by Sahara Kelly
She had done it. She'd booked herself a room and a man.
Book Two—OPEN HOUSE
by
Sahara Kelly
Excerpt
Alone once more, Jeff strolled through the townhouse, enjoying the quiet ambience of empty rooms.
It was the 'model' home, the showplace, decorated to the most tasteful limits by a firm that now, thanks to his father, no longer worked for J and J Development Group.
He looked at the stuff scattered here and there; decorative pieces—a vase with one silk orchid, an odd plate, a grouping of glass fruit in an improbably blue bowl. The latter reflected the late afternoon sun as it thrust its way past the lighter blue draperies and onto the table behind the couch.
It was, he realized, about the only time he'd ever actually seen one of those tables in a living room rather than a furniture showroom. Nobody he knew had a couch with a table behind it. Most of 'em had a couch with a coffee table in front of it you could put your feet on while watching the game.
Perhaps his dad was right. This place was fine for meetings, possibly a sedate book club or two, and perhaps an elderly widow knitting peacefully in the fall by the gas fireplace.
He didn't really see kids scampering around, or newlyweds frantically hurrying out the door to their respective jobs. He didn't see dogs lying anywhere or cats curled up on that overstuffed white chair.
White? Sheesh. His mom's cat would have that covered in ginger fur before she could yell "don't you claw that cushion, Nixon."
He smiled at the thought as he walked back through the open space to the dining area and his blueprints. Such was his mother's radical support of the Democratic party, she'd named her obstreperous kitten Nixon so she could yell at him with complete political impunity.
The cat had to be pushing fifteen years old now. He was, in all likelihood, deaf as well. But he was much loved and Jeff couldn't see his fat feline butt waddling through a place so…so…fucking perfect.
That might be the problem. From garage and family space on the ground floor to the extra bedroom-slash-office on the third, everything was just freaking perfect.
It needed…humanizing.
Hmm. He considered the options as his gaze wandered around the kitchen.
It needed some mess.
At that moment, the alarm on the front door pinged. It was probably another set of interested buyers, or at least people who wanted a break from the late summer heat and humidity. They'd find it here, since Jeff's design incorporated the latest technology in cooling systems and he was damned proud of the efficiency ratings all the other ecologically smart energy choices were starting to produce.
However, buyer or cold-air hunter notwithstanding, it was certainly people he'd have to meet, greet and schmooze. None of which he particularly enjoyed. He cursed his top salesman for going on vacation and followed that up with a mumbled imprecation aimed at his father for guilting him into covering the gap.
He steeled himself to look welcoming at the table, knowing the newcomers would be prowling the first floor right about now and then would follow the oak staircase to the main living area where he'd say hello and begin the 'let me tell you about this wonderful place and why you should think about buying it' spiel. It was a routine process he'd repeated more than a few times that day.
But anything routine about this visitor flew out the window when she walked quietly up the stairs and paused at the top, looking around. One hand rested on the newel post and the other gripped a large leather folder she carried tucked beneath her arm.
When she finally saw Jeff her lips parted, and he swore he could hear her sharp gasp. That was a millisecond before he made one of his own.
"Gaby." The word escaped on a breath.
"Jeff?" She blinked at him.
Holy fucking crap. There she was. In the flesh. In the very luscious flesh. Gabriella Rossini.
The one that got away.
Book Three—FULL SERVICE
by
S.L. Carpenter
Excerpt
"I'm telling you, this food is the bomb."
Rachel sat with a puzzled, amazed look on her face. "I've never seen anyone eat tacos like that before."
Of course her mind was wondering if that thick tongue of his ate everything like that. If so she was a dead woman. But she'd at least go with a smile on her face.
"If it's worth eating, it's worth savoring every bite."
His wicked grin made her smile. "Oh really?"
"It's one of my weaknesses. Just being honest."
Rachel let out a deep sigh and crossed her legs. "I don't want to seem forward or some kind of slut, Tyler, but my reasons for asking you out were kinda selfish. I haven't had a good relationship in a long time and I'm really tired of waiting for Mr. Right to come along and find me. I'm looking for Mr. Right Now."
She paused wanting to see his reaction to what she was saying.
"Go on," he nodded.
"You seem like a nice guy. Working a steady job, and yeah, you're pretty damn hot." She felt herself blush and a flash of heat trickled through her body. "Those uniforms don't do you justice."
"Why thank you." He paused. "What are you looking for, Rachel?"
"Truthfully? I guess I'm tired of hearing about all those amazing encounters and all the unbelievable romantic stuff in books and movies. I thought I'd take control and be an aggressive woman. Just go grab me some beefcake and—well—fuck him and let it go. A one night stand."
"So I'm your beefcake? You're just gonna use me, screw me and kick me to the curb?"
"I don't know Tyler. This isn't really me. I'm not like that. Deep down, I'm a romantic but I just want to feel like those others sometimes."
"Well, I'm okay with it if it's what you want. I've never been used for sex like that before, but I'd be willing to take one for the team. It's a sacrifice, of course…"
Watch for FULL SERVICE—available December 2012
Until then, Happy Reading from S.L. Carpenter and Sahara Kelly
~~*~~
Table of Contents
So Into You
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
About the Authors
Other Titles by S.L. Carpenter and Sahara Kelly