Showing posts with label Lisa Carlisle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lisa Carlisle. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

#NewRease Rock My Senses by Lisa Carlisle

Knights of Stone


Rock My Senses

Lisa Carlisle

Underground Encounters 6

 
Computer geek by day, by night Mike Harvey becomes outlandish guitarist Chee Keydood for rock band Velvet Cocks. Spotting two women kissing in a club, he thinks he’s in luck.
Allana Miles isn’t sure what came over her, but she sure as hell recognizes Chee and can’t believe he doesn’t remember her from their one-night stand. But she has no time to think about him—she’s too busy opening her own yoga studio to get involved in a relationship.
When they meet again at a New Year’s party, their attraction reignites, too hot to ignore. But they’ve got issues to overcome. Allana catches glimpses of the man behind the façade, but doesn’t think they can fit into each other’s lives even though the sex is great. Mike has always known he’s a bit different, but is shocked to discover his real nature. Will he be able to protect Allana from danger and convince her to take a chance on him?
A Romantica® paranormal erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
 

Excerpt

Peering behind an amp where the sound came from, I saw something that made me forget why I was back here. Two women were in a heated kiss. A tall auburn-haired one wearing a black vinyl dress with corset fastenings along her back had a petite blonde pressed against a wall. I slipped back against the wall to blend in with the shadows, mesmerized. Was there anything hotter than two women making out?
The taller one took the smaller woman’s wrists and pressed them higher against the wall. She moved her mouth down to kiss the blonde’s neck and slid her hand under her skirt.
Holy shit! She was touching her right in front of me. Forget the burlesque dancers, this was a much better private show.
Now I could see more of the blonde’s face, her eyes closed, mouth half-open, and an expression that spelled pure ecstasy. The tiny mewling sounds escaping her shot me to rock-hard status. I had to adjust my pants. Watching them was wrong, I knew it. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away even if I’d had a crowbar.
The blonde cried out, setting my senses on alert. Compelled to make sure she was all right, I peered closer. Her pained expression changed to a rapturous one, clearly enjoying whatever was happening. Maybe they liked it rough, with a little pain. Nothing wrong with that.
I didn’t hear anyone approach, but a massive, long-blond-haired guy in black swooped in front of the women. “Nike, stop,” he commanded.
The auburn-haired woman turned his way and hissed. It sounded more feline than female. “Leave us, Danton.” She bent down over the woman’s neck again.
“You can’t do this.” He pulled her away as if she were as light as a mic stand. “Where’s Michel?”
This woman had drops of blood smeared on her chin and on sharp white teeth, which I swear looked like fangs. Holy shit, fangs. I knew this club was full of freaks, but vampire play? Jeez.
“He’s not here,” she hissed.
“Let’s call him to come get you.” He clamped onto her wrist and she pouted, but didn’t fight him.
The guy scanned the area backstage and pointed at me. “You. Take her out of here.” He nodded to the blonde. Her eyes still appeared unfocused, dazed by lust.
“What?” I replied, stepping out from behind the amp. “I don’t even know her.”
“Get her out of here. It’s for her safety,” he said. With his free hand, he took the blonde by the wrist and nudged her in my direction.
The blonde’s eyes floated around, but then widened when she focused on my face. “You?” she said, astonished.
After a quick glance at her, the Viking dude said, “You will not remember any of what happened back here tonight.” His eyes fixated on mine, not blinking.
“What the hell, dude?”
He looked away and inhaled, closing his eyes and muttering something under his breath. Staring at me again, he said, “You will forget what happened back here tonight.”
“Whoa, are you trying to pull some kind of Jedi mind trick on me?” I raised my hands. “Not cool, man.”
The Viking guy continued to stare, but then tilted his head, appraising me. The woman began to squirm out of his grasp, flashing her bloody fangs our way as she reached for the blonde next to me.
“Get her out of here,” he repeated. “Now!”
The urgency in his voice and the prospect of being bitten by a madwoman who took a fascination with vampires to an extreme spurred me into action. Forgetting about the band with their luscious half-naked dancers, I grabbed the blonde’s hand. She was somewhat woozy and toddled on her spiky heels so I threw her over my shoulder to get us out of the club faster. Her scent washed over me, clean with undertones of coconut. It tugged at the back of my brain with familiarity.
Her wits must have begun to return as she pounded my lower back. “Put me down.”
“Easy, princess,” I said. “I’m trying to help you.”
“I don’t need your help! Put me down.”
Once we were outside in the brisk New England air, I set her on her feet. The salty tang of the ocean tickled my nostrils even though it was hundreds of yards away. A light dusting of snow had fallen and a few snowflakes fluttered through the air, but it wasn’t dense enough to stick and would probably be gone by morning.
“What the hell was that about in there? You’ve got blood dripping down your neck.”
She dabbed at her neck and stared at her fingers, now stained dark red. “What the—” A snowflake went straight for her finger and we both watched mesmerized as stark white met velvet red and was swallowed by it.
A few snowflakes fell onto her cheeks and her tiny nose and I felt an urge to brush them away, but they melted once they met the warmth of her flushed skin. She had delicate features and pretty blue eyes. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place how I knew her. Her blonde hair lay tousled on her shoulders, set off by the black of a dress that clung to her tight little body. My cock had settled down after the freaky incident inside, but twitched back to life again.
“Are you two into some weird-ass drugs and vampire role-play or something?” I asked.
My question distracted her from her blood-covered fingers. She still appeared dazed, but wobbled less. The fresh air and sight of blood must have jolted her back to reality. She reached into her purse and pulled out tissues to blot the blood.
“I’m not judging,” I clarified, in case I embarrassed her. “We all have our things.” When she didn’t answer me, I asked, “Where do you live?”
She focused on me with a dead-eyed stare. “Figures you don’t remember.”
 

Buy now

 


Thanks for sharing Lisa,
Tina


Thursday, October 30, 2014

Knights of Stone by Lisa Carlisle a #FallingIntoLove Read






Knights of Stone

Highland Gargoyles 1

Gargoyles, tree witches, and wolf shifters have divided the Isle of Stone after a great battle twenty-five years ago. When Kayla, a tree witch, hears about the unconventional rock concerts in the gargoyle’s territory, she sneaks from her coven and into their territory to see for herself. Night after night, she returns to see one in particular shift into human form and play guitar at these unconventional shows.

 

For several nights, Mason has kept watch for the pixie-like female. He plans to seduce her, thinking she’s a visitor from another island. When he discovers she’s one of the tree witches, he retreats, attempting to keep his distance. The temptation is strong, but forbidden.

 

Kayla and Mason attempt to meet in secret, but other elements on the isle command their attention. A magical cloak created by the three clans on the island is thinning, leading to repercussions for all the clans. Kayla and Mason are caught in the middle of it, and their actions may change the fate for all.

 

This novella was originally released as part of the USA Today bestselling Highland Shifters paranormal romance boxed set.

 

Excerpt

The crowd pushed Kayla closer to the stage as the last trails of fiery sunset faded. They knew what happened once darkness fell. She recovered her footing and focused again on the five life-sized stone gargoyles perched on pedestals on the perimeter of the stage. The space between them was set with instruments—guitars, a drum set, mic stands, and massive amplifiers, while a bonfire in a pit behind them cast the statues in a warm glow.

A stagehand with tartan draped over one shoulder climbed onto the stage and walked to the closest statue. He fastened the kilt over its shoulder and around its waist with a thick belt, covering the statue’s massive thighs. Kayla flushed, picturing why the coverings were necessary once the transformation began. The kilt had become a key detail in her fantasies about the guitarist, since it was the only clothing he wore. The stagehand continued dressing each statue with the same brilliant blue tartan worn by the gargoyle clan.

The last vestige of sunlight disappeared from the sky, and night draped the stage like a closing curtain. The statues loomed, dark silhouettes barely discernible by the crescent moon with the backdrop of the craggy cliffs and the rugged peaks of waves in the Atlantic Ocean behind them. The murmur of voices was replaced by silence. Waiting…

Five torches blazed on the stage all at once, lit by an unseen force. The audience erupted in cheers as the dancing lights from the flickering fire basked the statues. The flames lowered, casting the gargoyles in an eerie, almost reverent glow.

Movement. So slight, Kayla wondered if it was simply a play of light and shadows in her anticipation for the change. She fixed her gaze on the statue in front of her, the one she’d gravitated to each time she’d had sneaked out to see the show. Its massive gray form stood straight on two legs built for sturdiness. Its chest jutted out proudly. Gray wings with detailed feathers etched in the stone arched from a point below its shoulder blades. Eyes cast straight ahead on a face that appeared to be a mixture of canine and lion. Its right hand twitched, so slightly she would have missed it if she hadn’t stared so intently. Then a clawed foot inched forward.

Murmurs of astonishment burst from the crowd as the transformation began. Their cries of fervor grew louder as the monstrous statues transformed into taller, slimmer figures with the bronzed skin of warriors who battled under the midday sun. The tartan fabric fell over their thighs as they stood erect, covering their nudity.

Kayla barely blinked, mesmerized as always, as the statue before her stood to full height, taking on the form of a human male, but with beautiful raven wings. Hair just as black snaked rebelliously past his chin. The stony eyes flickered with animation, turning to a mossy green. His deep gaze seared the audience, seeming to burn anything in the path. When he found Kayla, he stopped. His expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his unblinking eyes made her swallow. She froze under the scrutiny as if hypnotized, unable to break eye contact. Her stomach lurched, heart pounded, and every muscle in her body tightened, fueled with blood now scorching through her veins. His penetrating appraisal affected her so. When his eyes took on a smoldering glint, her skin tingled and a red-hot awareness grew between her thighs.

He broke the stare and continued to assess the audience. She gasped, not realizing she had been holding her breath, and panted while she tried to breathe at a normal rate.

He turned on robust legs and strode to a guitar stand. She tore her eyes from him to note the other gargoyles. They, too, had shifted into the form of striking males. One had black hair draped further down his back, one had long blond hair, and two had reddish-brown hair—one wavy and shaggy, the other straight. They took their place at other instruments. She sought the guitarist again and caught the first sound of the pick striking the strings. On hearing the guitar projected through the amp, the crowd roared again, pressing Kayla forward.

The freak show was about to begin.

Spotlights flooded the musicians, powered by solar panels near a massive amplifier. The guitarist continued playing and the others joined in, playing a raucous crossover between hard rock and heavy metal. The one with long blond hair grabbed hold of the microphone and belted out a shattering cry that sounded like a call to battle. The crowd went pin drop silent to listen and then cheered in unison as the band played on. The front man sang piercing growls and low croons about the Knights in Stone, the protectors of the ancient forests, battling against the evil tree witches.

Kayla’s coven. 

 

 

Buy now:


 





About Lisa Carlisle:

Lisa Carlisle is a USA Today Bestselling author of romance and suspense. She loves stories with dark, brooding heroes and independent, caring heroines.  Her travels have provided her with inspiration for various settings in her novels, including deployments while she served in the Marines. She lived in Parris Island, the California desert, and Okinawa, Japan. She also backpacked alone through Europe, and lived in Paris, France, as an au pair before returning to the U.S. and buying a book store. She now lives and works in New England with her husband, two children, a cat, and many fish. 

Connect with Lisa:


Website: http://www.lisacarlislebooks.com 


Twitter: https://twitter.com/LisaCBooks - @lisacbooks



 Thanks for sharing your book with us,


Tina

Saturday, September 27, 2014

Lisa Carlisle - is #FallingIntoLove with Thirst



THIRST: An EIGHT Author Vampire Bundle of Edgy Vampires that THIRST for the one. Deliciously inhuman, paranormal sexiness!
ONLY ONE MONTH LEFT TO ORDER! GRAB IT BEFORE IT'S GONE FOREVER! *NO CLIFFHANGERS*
Are you THIRSTING for the unusual? Try thousand-year-old vampires, Latin and French vamps, vampire Earls, sexy Native American vampires and even berserker vampires! This bundle will slake your THIRST for otherworldly, hot and sexy, unique vampire stories.
EIGHT creative and original stories that prove, one little seductive bite doesn't hurt.
------
Vampire Berserker by Carl East: A vampire that needs to feed on other vampires in order to survive.
The Vampire and the Rose by Yvonne Anthony: Rose’s mother has often warned her to stay away from dark places—especially at night, but curious Rose will ignore the warnings, jumping headlong into danger with startling consequences.
Dark Velvet by Lisa Carlisle: Savannah is thrilled for her residency at an art colony where she meets the sculptor Antoine. She discovers his dark secret, putting her life in jeopardy.
Vampire Lords of Blacknall by Shirl Anders: Only a creature of the night can save her. Lady Beth never stays home in the evenings. She fears her evil stepbrother. Then a monster stalks her in the dark and she cannot tell beast from savior.
The Vixen Torn by J.E. & M. Keep: Anjasa has been through the worst parts of hell and come back from it wounded but stronger. A trained assassin and courtesan, she’s seen the worst in others… and herself.
When Comes the Night by Anita Dobs: Trying to leave a troubled past far behind, Stacy escapes to England, but gets more than she bargained for when she meets Rafe Hawkins, the mysterious C.E.O at the renowned Sirius Advertising Agency.
Ash: Before Dawn by Skye Eagleday: Ash drank deeply of the blood of his enemies at Custer’s Last Stand. Now the beautiful Native American Vampire hunts in the gay bars of Seattle, where he will face an ancient Vampire far more deadly than the troops at Little Big Horn. Will he and his new human lover be able to use his powers of seduction and warrior skills to survive until dawn?
Love Blind by Claudia D. Christian: 1978. Rio de Janeiro. Josephine made a desperate bargain with a vampire named Julio Alberto. Her life for another. Kept in a gilded cage, will she ever allow herself to truly love her charming captor?
Buy now for only 99 cents. Only available for one month until it's gone forever!

Lisa CarlisleDark heroes, spirited heroines, scorching stories
Sign up for new releases and specials at
lisacarlislebooks.com

Facebook - Twitter - Goodreads - Pinterest


Thanks for sharing,


Tina

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

#RockingSummerRomance by Lisa Carlisle - Better Than Cake


Better than Cake

Lisa Carlisle
After the worst fight of their relationship, the last place Stephanie wants to be is a wedding reception. She still can’t get over what happened. Could their five years of marriage be destroyed after a blast of heated words? Johnny suggested separating. Separating! Now with her marriage on the line, she has to put on a brave face and pretend love is grand.
Johnny doesn’t know why he’d freaked out the way he had and is left with one emotion. Regret. He doesn’t want to lose Stephanie. He must find her and make things right.
Stephanie enters the reception, fearing the end of her marriage. Johnny has something else in mind—a much more decadent proposal that will turn her friend’s wedding into an event they’ll never forget.

A short erotic romance for only  99 cents! Perfect for a beach or summer read.

Buy Now at:


Excerpt
Who gets ditched at a wedding? Stephanie paused and took a deep breath before walking into her friend’s reception. Something like this could only happen to her.
Ditched wasn’t a strong enough description. “Maybe we should try separating.” Johnny’s words echoed in her mind, lashing her psyche raw with repetition.
Separating! She closed her eyes. Unthinkable.
It’s okay. You can do this. Stick it out for a couple of hours and then you can deal with the mess.
How would she explain her husband’s sudden absence? He was at the ceremony, but wouldn’t be at the reception. What would be a reasonable explanation? They were spending the weekend here in Cape Cod so it would be tough to feign a work or family excuse.
Illness. Yes, something about seafood. That would be plausible at a seaside resort. Food poisoning. She had an excuse—but it didn’t make her feel any better about the situation.
Beyond the Sea wafted out from the ballroom, appropriate for this Cape Cod seaside resort. She glanced up at the imposing exterior of the multi-level hotel. Her hand trembled so she clutched her silver purse tighter. She raised her chin to steel herself and entered the hotel.

Stephanie scanned the place settings to find hers. Mr. and Mrs. John Silvio. Table nineteen. She dropped her purse to her side, but her fingers still clenched it. The last place she wanted to be after a killer argument with her husband was a wedding. She forced herself to enter the reception area, squeezing through all those decked in suits and evening gowns. Searching the table numbers for nineteen, she followed them to the back of the room. She guessed she’d be furthest from the head table, since she was neither family nor close friend, but an old college roommate of the bride. She made her way to the back of the room, braved a smile, and introduced herself to the couples already seated.
“Hi. I’m Stephanie.”
“Elaine,” a heavyset woman with puffy blond hair said. “You’re alone?”
Great. Just fantastic. Starting right with the topic she wanted to avoid. “Yes. My husband couldn’t make it tonight. Something he ate earlier,” she babbled. “Probably the shellfish.” She shrugged.
The others introduced themselves as she sat down and peppered her with questions about where they bought the seafood. A few shared their stories of food poisoning.
It was going to be a long night.
Once the attention was off her, she replayed the fight for what had to be the fortieth time since it happened. After a ripple of snide comments evolved into a tsunami of a fight, she stormed away from Johnny and ended up talking to herself like a crazy person as she pounded through the surf.
“Separating? Why does he take a small argument and blow it up into something like this? How could he do this to me at my friend’s wedding? What the fuck!”
A couple of miles later, she had calmed down. It wasn’t all his doing. She was the one who’d dragged them here when he had other plans. Her fury decreased as the sun sank lower in the sky, replaced by a cloak of sadness.
She didn’t want to split up.
Her eyes began to water. How the heck would she make it through the night without breaking down? Her marriage could be over. How long could she sport a brave face before it dropped?
“Excuse me,” she said and hurried into the ladies room. She barely made it through the door before her eyes pooled with tears.
She grabbed tissues and blotted them, fixing her smudged makeup the best she could.
“You can do this,” she told her reflection in the mirror.
As much as she dreaded being at a wedding while her own marriage hung in jeopardy, she had to put her feelings aside for the sake of Caryn. She’d only get married once.
Hopefully.

* * * * *

Johnny caught glimpses of the ocean from the cab and couldn’t help but brood on what he had said to Stephanie down the beach this afternoon. A cold black cloak had surrounded him since, fastened with shackles of regret. The same question echoed in his head ever since.
Why?
Why had he freaked out the way he had? Said the things he had? The day had started out great. They woke up at the bed and breakfast and had the morning free before the ceremony. They’d rented bikes on the Cape Cod Rail Trail and had ridden past sand dunes and shacks, cranberry bogs and duck-filled ponds, villages and pine forests, and even a couple of lighthouses. The scenery was one thing, his beautiful wife riding alongside him something else. He could barely keep his eyes off her lithe body and on the trail.
When they’d stopped to buy sandwiches from one of the beachside shacks and had a picnic lunch on the beach, things were still good. It wasn’t until after the seaside wedding ceremony this afternoon that he’d opened his mouth and all kinds of stupid fell out. And for what? Something trivial, not something to throw away a marriage over.
Their argument had stirred weeks before. He resented her for dragging him to a wedding when he’d already had plans for his monthly camping trip with his buddies, He had stormed about it for days, but downright exploded on the beach earlier. Telling her she was too controlling, she shouldn’t speak for him and make him cancel his plans to do something she wanted. How his outdoor trips were how he decompressed from work and if she didn’t get it by now, she didn’t get him. She’d countered, saying he used the same justification for his softball games, and sometimes he had to suck it up and act like an adult. Snide comments had escalated into verbal jabs. Past grievances were drudged up as their defenses rose. Accusations flew, growing uglier, and digging up past perceived injustices, until finally, he had suggested a trial separation.
He still wasn’t sure why he’d said it. A heat of the moment incident, blurting out something to end the fight with something he didn’t even mean.
Her shocked expression had turned to one of hurt as she blinked back tears. Then she’d lashed back at him. “If you’re so shallow and selfish that you consider a weekend away from your buddies such brutality, then yeah, maybe we should.”
When she had stormed away from him across the beach, he had turned away thinking to hell with her and pounded through the sand in the opposite direction. It wasn’t until he had turned back several minutes later to see she was gone that he realized he might have made the biggest mistake of his life.

About the Author

Lisa loves stories with dark, brooding, isolated characters and tough, independent, caring heroines. Her reading tastes very widely and she’ll read almost anything—especially mysteries, romance, and non-fiction on any new topic of interest.

She is thrilled to be a multi-published author writing since she’s wanted to write since the sixth grade. Her travels and many jobs have provided her with inspiration for novels, such as serving in the Marine Corps in Okinawa, Japan, backpacking alone around Europe, or working as a waitress in Paris. Her love of books inspired her to own a small independent book store for a couple of years.

Lisa lives in New England with her husband and their children. She spends her days writing for corporate clients and her evenings writing stories and novels.

Visit her website for more on books, trailers, playlists, and more:

Sign up for her newsletter to hear about new releases, specials, and freebies:

Lisa loves to connect with readers. You can find her on:



Thanks Lisa for sharing,

Tina

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Lisa Carlisle's Dark Velvet in #EggcerptExchange

 


I’m here to share an excerpt of my recent release, Dark Velvet.  This is the start of a new series of new adult erotic romances set on a remote New England island. Paranormal aspects, a medieval-styled castle, and a hot as hell hero.

Dark Velvet

Lisa Carlisle

Chateau Seductions series

darkvelvetGrad student Savannah Evans is thrilled to be accepted as a resident to a prestigious art colony. Where else would she be able to focus on her craft of writing poetry in a setting like that of the medieval-styled castle? The remote New England island is a respite from her hectic city life. When she meets her benefactor, a mysterious French sculptor, her expectations for carefree days writing near the ocean are distracted by unprofessional fantasies about her sponsor.
Antoine Chevalier built Les Beaux Arts on DeRoche Island to bring purpose back to an existence that has lost meaning. He’s wandered the earth for decades and finds solace in returning to art. When Savannah applies for a residency, something about her words touches him. After her arrival, a physical attraction grows between them, which he struggles against. She deserves more than someone of his kind.
Antoine proposes they become lovers during her stay. But the situation turns complicated when Savannah discovers his secret. She had suspicions about his identity, but finds the truth overwhelming. Consumed by her desire for Antoine and faced with a tough decision, she is blind to the danger that has arrived at DeRoche Island.
New adult / paranormal / erotic romance
Excerpt
Savannah’s fingers traced the cool marble of the god’s muscular back and then the definition in his arm as he drew an arrow to shoot. She pictured Antoine bent over the sculpture, brows furrowed in concentration, losing sense of time as he polished each portion to perfection.
“Do you like this?” A deep voice whispering in her ear startled her.
She jumped at the sound of his voice, bumping back into his hard chest, and he caught her upper arms to steady her. Only one man in the castle spoke in that smooth French accent—the sculptor himself.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Antoine.” She fumbled taking a half step forward, away from him. “I shouldn’t have touched it.”
“No, don’t apologize.” He let go of her arms, but his warm breath tickled her ear.
He took her hand, caressing her palm, which sent tingles up her arm. Her bottom lip quivered as he brought her fingers to rest again on the marble piece. She thanked the gods he remained behind her so he couldn’t witness her nervous reaction, and she bit her lip to halt the tremors. This was not the way for a young protégée to behave in front of her benefactor. He owned the castle, created the art colony here where she was attending on a poetry scholarship—she shouldn’t go gaga simply from his touch. Which was exactly what she was doing.
“It pleases me that you appreciate my work.” Leading her fingers down the figure’s chiseled chest, he leaned in closer and added, “I liked watching you admire it.”
His voice alone sent flames rippling through her. Every nerve in her being lit with awareness in reaction to him. In the months since they’d met, they’d never been alone in such proximity. Weeks of heated looks from afar had inflamed her desire so the slightest touch became intimate, strengthening her need for more.
Sounds of approaching voices indicated this evening’s performance in the chateau would soon begin. Several of the musicians in the art colony had collaborated on orchestral pieces they wanted to play in front of an audience for the first time. As fellow artists in residence, they sought the support of fellow residents.
Antoine kissed her hand like a suitor in a bygone era. “I hope you enjoy the concert, Savannah.”
Her lips parted, opening and closing like a fish while she thought of what to say. When she mustered up the courage to turn and face him, he had already left the room, filling her with both relief and disappointment. Unaware she’d been holding her breath, she exhaled deeply.

Several times over the course of the evening, Savannah caught Antoine’s dark eyes watching her. Her emotions roiled in confusion while the performers played Barber’s Adagio for Strings. The way he held her gaze without blinking made her squirm in the burgundy armchair. The rising tension and resolution from the violin and cello underscored her tumultuous emotions.
She smiled at him briefly and focused on the musicians, aware of how her heartbeat had escalated. When she glanced again at Antoine, he still watched her unabashed, as if unconcerned about what the others would think. He took a sip of Porto, nodded her way, and then returned his attention to the musicians. She sat up straighter and crossed her legs at the ankles, then uncrossed them, and crossed them again.
The attraction was becoming more difficult to ignore. In light of how he breached the physical distance by touching her so earlier, she feared she’d be unable to keep her desires hidden much longer. She’d developed an instant crush since she arrived at the castle three months before. How could she not be—he was a renowned sculptor with a devastating, dark appeal. What was she to him than just another young resident who would be gone in three months, replaced by another.
Was she reading more into the brief exchange than was warranted?
Adjusting in her seat, she pictured kissing his soft lips, tasting the sweet rich Porto on his tongue. A tingle grew in her nipples. She imagined him touching them, kissing them, as he peered at her with those seductive eyes. An ardent rush of desire flooded between her thighs.
It’s just a look. Only a casual glance my way. Even as she attempted to fool herself, she knew she was full of shit.
Buy links:
Amazon B&N
Kobo
Smashwords
Lisa CarlisleDark heroes, feisty heroines, scorching stories
Sign up for new releases and specials at
lisacarlislebooks.com/subscribe