By: Jillian David Publisher: Crimson Romance
Genre: Western Paranormal Romance
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Her lips waited, just a few cruel inches away from his mouth ... was this some kind of evil torture? Would she have to wait, a millimeter from heaven, while she froze to death?
No thank you.
Never let it be said that Sara couldn’t take charge of an iffy situation when the chips were down. Or help knock some rust off a fellow.
She grabbed his sheepskin and leather jacket lapels, yanking him toward her as she stood on tiptoes. When their lips met, a zap of holy wow shot clear to her feet, then returned to settle in her pelvis, swirling in the most delightful way. The heat from his mouth flowed like warm liqueur through her body. After a moment, her calves protested the height difference, and she staggered back a step. Her hands remained clamped onto his jacket.
She licked her lips, her taste buds instantly craving more of his spicy male essence. A comparison between the taste of his lips and the rest of his body would be fine, too. “Yes, well. So there you go, no more rust. Like riding a bike,” she babbled. When he leaned down, his stubble brushed her cheek, sending ticklish, delicious sparks skimming over her skin. “I might need more practice.” His breath slid up her jaw and drifted over her ear. Rusty? Out of practice? She’d love to bear witness to his expertise when he regained proficiency. Kisses any better than these could kill a woman. Dead.
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Jillian David lives near the end of the Earth with her nut of a husband and two bossy cats. To escape the sometimes-stressful world of the rural physician, she writes while on call and in her free time. She enjoys taking realistic settings and adding a twist of “what if.” Running or hiking on local trails often promotes plot development.
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Website - http://www.jilliandavid.net
Twitter - @jilliandavid13