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Claire Robertson is a journalist living a vanilla life. Except when
she’s alone at night where she wields her writer whip and stilettos inside her
erotic fantasies. Tragedy blindly strikes, forcing Claire to return to her
hometown and confront her past. And that past includes Dustin Murray, an old
flame she ran away from when things became complicated.
Her life comes apart and she sends her editor the “wrong” story by
mistake. One of her hot novels.
Amidst chaos, Claire has a choice: to return to her safe life back in
Seattle or risk adventure, ensuring her smoxy fantasies come to life. Dustin
has his own plans and isn’t about to let Claire go. Not when he proves he can
handle her life and ALL her bedroom fantasies.
When things heat up, Claire must decide which road to take in life and
Excerpt of an excerpt from the heroine’s Claire’s writing -
Maxwell…your attorney.” He turned away, but not before she caught his look of
displeasure. “God. Woman, do you even know what a mess you’ve got on your
hands? We need to talk. A real pressure cooker is about blow.”
Cynthia froze. This wasn’t part of her erotic fantasy. What
was he talking about? Should she just come out and admit she had no idea of
what was going on or get him to divulge what demanded damage control?
She pretended unconcerned boredom in an attempt to buy some
time to think. “Someone’s got his panties in a real twist.”
This wasn’t the first time she’d needed legal. But if he was
her new go-to man, she was tempted to screw more things up.
This was a conundrum. He was too damn good-looking. This
type of man didn’t appreciate a dumbbell. Did he know how hard she worked or
that sometimes contracts needed to be bent? “Explored” is what she liked to
call it. Wasn’t that why McGavock Publishing hired a boatload of first-year attorneys
anyway? Shoot, he was probably upset because his weekend golf game was about to
be rained out.
He paced in front of her desk while raking fingers through
his thick, dark hair. Cynthia noticed the way he flexed and moved his arms, his
muscles pumping and expanding. He stopped, spun around, and marched back to her
“Lewis, when you cross out clauses and write your own notes
into a publishing contract, we don’t have a legal leg to stand on in court when
an issue is disputed. The things you’ve included to get an author to sign
without consulting legal is tying us in knots. The next time you promise a
writer the moon, you better consult me first and NASA second. Not whatever pops
into that pretty little head of yours. You need my help with this lawsuit, and
I expect your cooperation. You might as well know now that’s going to mean
during office hours as well as evenings and weekends.”
His finger was pointed directly in front of her face. She
imagined sucking the tip until her sex-crazed brain finally grasped his
What? She was floored. Her stomach felt punched, the fist of
surprise still lodged in her ribcage. Her mind reeled. It wasn’t possible. She
was being threatened with a lawsuit for a couple of silly additions to a
contract, and now this man expected her to drop everything. Was he joking?
Slowly she inhaled.
“I’m innocent.” She stared back at him. “Sure, I’m not
beyond bending the rules, but a lawsuit? No, that’s not possible; it’s
impossible. You’ve got to help me.”
“We definitely need a sit-down. Not your usual brush-off and
expectation for legal to jump through a hoop. This one is serious.” His gaze
swept over her face and downward. The space between them crackled with static
energy. He was more than steamed. But he was ready to step in and help her. A
spasm of pleasure trilled in her veins. He was her knight in shining armor. She
wasn’t the enemy. Not his at least. With all that pent-up fury of his, it was a
shame to let it go to waste. He was handsome beyond belief…another time, over
cocktails or at a party, she’d not think twice about what her body wanted. His
dark eyes weren’t all anger…passion brewed there, pulling the cords to her
attraction, making her skin tingle. Oh, my. He wanted to school her good. But
maybe she could teach him a thing.
“Thor…Thornton, sit down.” She recouped her confidence. He
was in her dominion. The door was closed. Her assistant always knocked before
entering. The glass panels were mirrored. He was so near…all she had to do was
reach out to him.
She met his bad-boy stare with excitement screaming in her
“Please.” She was almost purring, beseeching him over the
rim of her eyeglasses.
“Fine, I’m all ears.” He pulled up a chair closer to her
She studied him. If the man ever smiled, he’d be drop-dead
gorgeous. She let the papers slip out of her fingers, and she pushed her
glasses up on top of her head. Cynthia rubbed her ankles together, and his eyes
fixed onto legs.
Ding, ding. Johnny, she had a winner.
She lifted her legs and stood, acting as if arranging her
papers was vital. She felt, rather than saw, that his gaze was upon her.
“Client-attorney privilege?” She rounded the desk, trailing
her fingers along the surface.
“Yes, whatever you share. Go on.”
“Where shall I begin?” She stopped and leaned back on her
desk, directly in front of him. Eighteen inches of space separated them.
“Haven’t you ever longed for something to the point of
breaking a few rules? Just once?”
I grew up in
Miami, Florida and spent summers with my father who taught college philosophy
courses. I’ve always been surrounded by books. My father gave me the Little
Prince not once, but several times growing up. I never thought I’d become a
writer. But I followed in his footsteps becoming a teacher and then a writer.
He passed away before I achieved any of these goals. I hope he knows how far
I’ve traveled along the road he also journeyed.