A member
of Romance Writers of America and published since 2009, I write contemporary,
paranormal, erotic and historical romance, throwing a little mystery and
suspense in for good measure. Currently self-published and published with
Decadent Publishing, I enjoy nothing better than a story that contains a
little mystery and a lot of romance.
When not
dreaming up stories featuring heroes who aren’t intimidated by strong heroines, you can find me haunting antique and thrift stores for unique finds, or
planning a new flower garden. I live in the mid-west with my husband of many
years and am currently enjoying all of the period dramas on Netflix and
wondering where I can find a hat that makes me look as stylish as the 1930's Australian detective, Miss
Phryne Fisher.
As you might have guessed, bargains always delight my thrifty soul, and nine stories from some of today's hottest and best-selling authors for .99, is quite a steal. These stories run the gamut of heat levels, so there's something for everyone!
My contribution is a contemporary erotic romance novella, HEAD OVER HEELS.
***AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER NOW!***
SUMMER NIGHTS OF DELIGHT
Head Over Heels
While wearing a pair of vintage red stilettos, Bella Jacienski literally
falls into sexy CEO, Rhys Vincent’s arms. Is the legend attached to the shoes
true? Have they led her to her heart’s desire—a passionate, lust-crazed lover
who wants only her?
If Rhys can manage to get through an IRS audit, pacify an irate donor, and
referee a huge misunderstanding between married friends, he might actually have
more time to explore his desire for the curvy shopkeeper keeping him awake
nights.
Their instant attraction is hot and sweet, and the stolen moments they share
only add fuel to a fire that threatens to burn out of control. Is a legendary
pair of stilettos responsible for leading Bella to a
head-over-heels-happily-ever-after passion with Rhys? He doesn’t care. Lust at
first sight has never been so much fun!
Excerpt:
He placed his
hands flat on the counter and leaned across. “I’ll be honest with you. It’s
been a long time since I’ve wanted anyone as much as I want you. I just don’t
want to be ‘revenge-sex guy’ or ‘rebound-guy’ or the guy who helps you figure
out that what you really want is your last lover.”
“I think
technically that would be rebound-guy,” she said because she was nervous and
she said stupid things when she couldn’t think straight. She’d never been the
focus of this much bottled-up intensity and as much as she wanted a passionate
fling with a lust-crazed lover this was new territory and she didn’t have a
map. But she could understand not wanting to be used.
“I apologize for
jumping to a conclusion that I had no business—” He shook his head. “What do
you need taken down?” She opened her mouth and he growled, “You are not getting
on that ladder again.”
“My Valentine
decorations,” she said, pointing to the hatboxes with reproduction Edwardian
Valentine cards glued to their fronts. They’re on the very top shelf, next to
the storeroom. “
He situated the
ladder and started climbing.
“I admire a man
who’s willing to battle cobwebs and lace doilies to make me happy,” she said,
watching him balance three full hatboxes and step back down. The muscles in his
legs and ass clenched and her mouth watered. She was going to be a giant puddle
before this was over. She hastily cleared the counter.
He set the boxes
down between them. “Anymore balancing acts I should know about?”
She shook her
head. “Not this week,” she said as he grabbed his coat and hat. She didn’t want
him to go but if he didn’t there was a real threat that she’d start
rationalizing a quickie, drag him into the storeroom and fuck his brains out
among the clutter and cast-off furniture. There was a fainting couch but the
upholstery was shot and the stuffing was marginal.
Oh damn. She’d
been without sex way too long.
He turned the
handle and the door popped open. “I know I locked this.”
She shrugged. “I
have to use the deadbolt if I want to lock it securely.”
He frowned.
“Were you afraid of being in here alone with me?”
“Not for the
reason you might think,” she said, smiling because the thought worried him
enough to ask. And he did look worried. “You’re almost too good to be true and
I don’t want to screw it up.” He shut the door, deliberately and she cringed.
“I open my mouth and—”
He crossed the
shop in quick, deliberate strides closing the distance between them.
“Open your
mouth, Bella,” he whispered, lowering his head. His soft command swept through
her and brushed away any doubt that this was what they both wanted.
Happy Reading!
Paris Brandon
