Her Miracle Man

by Nikki Duncan

  “Thank you. I couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong with my relationship until you walked in here.”

  Jennalyn patted Michele’s shoulder with the tips of her fingers, not quite confident enough to complete the embrace. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t. Oddly, neither did he.”

  “That’s sad isn’t it?” Jennalyn chuckled. “You spend over a year with a man and it doesn’t hurt when he’s gone?”

  “It’s sad for him.” Michele stepped back. Her smile was brilliant, fun and friendly. “The same will never be said for a man like my brother.”

  “True.” Jennalyn smiled at Ryland who stood close behind Michele. “Your brother is impossible not to love.”

  “Really?” Heat and love radiated from Ryland’s eyes and speared deep into Jennalyn’s heart as he dared her with his question.

  She stepped to him, wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled up at him.

  “Sabrina connected me to the world. I lost that connection until you. You’ve shown me how much I was missing.”

  “JJ.”

  Everything around her faded as she looked into Ryland’s eyes. It didn’t matter that Michele had just broken off a long-term relationship. It didn’t matter that Ryland’s parents watched. Jennalyn only cared about the man standing in front of her with his hands resting on her hips. “How can I not love the man who helped me rediscover Christmas magic?”

  “You can’t.” He laughed as he swung her into his arms. “It was all part of my master plan.”

  About the Author

  Heart-stopping puppy chases, childhood melodrama and the aborted hangings of innocent toys are all in a day’s work for Nikki Duncan. This athletic equestrian turned reluctant homemaker turned daring author is drawn to the siren song of a fresh storyline.

  Nikki plots murder and mayhem over breakfast, scandalous exposés at lunch and the sensual turn of phrase after dinner. Nevertheless, it is the pleasurable excitement and anticipation of unraveling her character’s motivation that drives her to write long past the witching hour.

  Whether it’s romantic suspense or contemporary romance with a focus on the lovers, the only anxiety and apprehension haunting this author comes from pondering the mysterious outcome of her latest twist.

  Learn more about Nikki by visiting her website at www.NikkiDuncan.com. Nikki is also on Facebook and Twitter at /NDuncanWriter.

  Look for these titles by Nikki Duncan

  Now Available:

  Sensory Ops

  Sounds to Die By

  Scent of Persuasion

  Illicit Intuitions

  Tulle and Tulips

  Tangled in Tulle

  Twisted in Tulips

  Whispering Cove

  Wicked

  Burned

  Her Miracle Man

  Coming Soon:

  Sensory Ops

  A Killing Touch

  Fate has a way of rearranging everything…

  Twisted in Tulips

  © 2012 Nikki Duncan

  Tulle and Tulips, Book 2

  After months of just getting by on military disability pay, Jace Nichols is going for his dream job in Miami. Until he stops to rescue a woman under attack. Thanks to his deeply ingrained sense of duty, he misses his one-shot-only interview—for a woman who seems more grateful he saved her way-too-sexy shoes than her life.

  No one knows better than Misty Morgan that everyone is fighting some kind of battle. Hers is against her snobby family, who look down on her chosen profession as a wedding floral coordinator. Behind Jace’s surly exterior she senses wounds that run deeper than a missing arm.

  When Jace spots Misty fending off yet another fawning male. he’s not sure what makes his control snap. The fact that she insists on wearing her skirts too short, or the fact he can’t resist kissing her.

  Best to get it over with and give in to one crazy night that should get her out of his system. Instead he finds himself with more second chances than he can shake his steel hook at—if he can find room in his wounded heart for love.

  Warning: This title contains a jaded hero and an independent heroine who find that when push comes to push-back, an argument is the quickest route to steamy sex.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Twisted in Tulips:

  Jace nursed the beer he’d ordered for another hour and thirty-three minutes. Kyle had left quickly after realizing Jace wasn’t interested in conversation, but the talking armpit of Misty’s date continued to miss the clues of her disinterest.

  The longer they sat, the more she glanced in the mirror, occasionally meeting Jace’s gaze. The more she fiddled with the drink she wasn’t drinking and studied the grain of the wooden bar. The more she shifted away, millimeter by millimeter.

  Every shift flexed and released the fine muscles in her legs. The more Jace watched those long, lean legs the more clearly he saw her naked except for her stilettos with those legs wrapped around his waist. Her back, held erect in refined posture, would curve as she arched in orgasm.

  Her taste, peaches and margarita, lingered on his tongue.

  The training drilled into him after years of service kept him from shifting in his seat, but the erection pressing against his zipper increased the challenge. The bigger challenge was stopping himself from crossing the bar a second time.

  Misty shifted again. Her skirt slipped a little higher on her thigh.

  Jace’s dick twitched. He dropped a shaking hand to his crotch, flattened his palm on his cock and pressed.

  Across the bar, Misty flattened a hand on her thigh and rubbed her bare skin.

  Rather than ease any tension, the pressure of his hand, the imagined pressure of hers, amped up his arousal. His balls drew tight and without touching the woman haunting him, fully clothed and in a public place, he lingered on the precipice of release.

  Before shaming himself, he slid his hand to the middle of his thigh and dug his fingers in until his muscles bellowed with pain. His hunger inched back, not much, but enough for control to slip back to the forefront.

  Twenty-eight more minutes passed with him fighting for control when Armpit finally paid the tab and escorted Misty to the door. Not caring if he was obvious, Jace threw some bills on the table and followed.

  Whatever it was about the woman he’d rescued that called to him—he’d identify it later—he couldn’t let her walk away and risk never seeing her again. She interested him beyond the desire for sex.

  She spoke to him the same as she’d speak to anyone, as if she hadn’t been scared by his arm. Or didn’t care.

  Rather than taking a car, Armpit and Misty walked along the sidewalk, close but not intimately close. Satisfaction twitched the muscle between Jace’s nose and upper lip on the left side. She wouldn’t be inviting him over for a nightcap.

  After a few blocks, they turned down a side street and stopped shortly at the gate of a small courtyard shared by six town homes. The place was secured with a coded keypad on the gate. Beyond was an immaculately manicured lawn with lights hidden in the foliage that offered a well-lit security among the beauty of the garden.

  Fading into the shadows across the street, Jace watched as Misty hugged Armpit goodnight and keyed her code into the gate. He couldn’t see the numbers from his position, but her finger strokes were enough for him to figure it out.

  When Armpit had turned the corner at the end of the street and Misty had let herself into the corner home, Jace crossed the street and entered her gate code. Moving like he belonged there, he approached the door that stood between him and the woman of his desires. He rapped twice.

  “One minute.” Her muffled call came out husky and a little breathy through the wooden panel. When she opened the door her burgundy suit jacket hung open, a lace-edged camisole in the same color peeked out.

  His blood surged with heat.

  “What are you doing here? How’d you get through the gate? Did you follow me?”

  Driven by instinct, Jace stepped inside,
grabbed her hips and backed her to the entryway wall. His mouth descended to hers. His tongue plunged into her warmth.

  Misty’s hands gripped his shoulders. Her body arched against his. She mumbled against his lips. “The door’s still open.”

  Taking her response as acceptance, he stretched a booted foot behind him and nudged the door closed. No longer caring about her nakedness, at least not for the first time, Jace hitched her skirt to her waist. She released him long enough to take off her thong while he stripped off his boots and jeans and pulled a condom from his wallet.

  “You’re prepared.”

  “A military man always is.”

  “Because you have a woman in every port?”

  “Some do. I didn’t.” He eased her jacket off so she stood before him in only her satin and lace camisole and stilettos. From her pale brown eyes to her swollen lips, her fist-sized perky boobs with erect nipples, to the tips of her stilettos the woman was walking sex. And she was his for the night. “Now stop talking.”

  “Make me.”

  A love prescription so potent only the hottest doctor can fill it.

  Paging Dr. Hot

  © 2012 Sophia Knightly

  Miami TV reporter Francesca Lake is on a manhunt…or rather, a doctor hunt. Frankie wasn’t always a hypochondriac. Her motto used to be “Fear is not an option”, but everything changed with her mom’s near-fatal heart attack. Now a day doesn’t go by where she isn’t worried about something.

  After a harrowing incident in the hospital ER, she has a life-altering epiphany. She needs to find a marriage-minded doctor ASAP—one who will calm her fears so she can get on with her life.

  So begins a series of amorous escapades and startling revelations as she works her way through the list of eligibles: an outrageous Aussie sex therapist, a brilliant neurosurgeon (who’s wired the wrong way), and a handsome Cuban cardiologist.

  None of them compares to hunky Dr. Harrison Taylor…but there’s a problem. Much as Harrison’s rugged physique, forest-green eyes and warm smile make her senses wobbly, she needs a people doctor, not the vet for her miniature dachshund Romeo. Besides, Harrison’s propensity for crazy stunts would only make her worry more.

  Frankie is trying to be sensible, but her heart and her outspoken dog are conspiring against her…

  Warning: Contains juicy secrets and romantic misadventures between a loveable hypochondriac and three hot doctors. Side effects may include intense yearnings for a strong doctor, an adorable miniature dachshund, and an impromptu trip to sultry Miami.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Paging Dr. Hot:

  “Have you eaten yet?” he asks, interrupting my musings.

  “No, we were going to have a picnic on the boat, but something came up.” I make a face. “Anyway, I’ve lost my appetite.”

  “Come to my place. We’ll open a bottle of wine and have our own picnic,” he says, green eyes crinkling at the corners.

  “How can I resist such a nice invitation?” I smile at him and my mood lightens.

  As we ride up the elevator side by side, I’m thinking I’m glad I ran into Harrison.

  Harrison’s apartment is a lot more spacious than mine. The wide, unobstructed view of the bay is the first thing that catches my eye as I enter. The décor is typical single male style: wide screen panel TV, big circular tan leather couch and sports memorabilia.

  “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get us some snacks.” Harrison heads to the kitchen with Scout at his heels.

  I notice the collection of framed photographs of his travels on the wall, particularly of China. Yesterday in the park, he told me he had trekked across the Great Wall of China. I turn away when I see a picture of him grinning as he parasails, his athletic body dangling in mid-air.

  There are many things I like about Harrison, stuff he told me about himself that made me realize he’s someone I want to build a friendship with. He loves thick steaks medium rare with a good Pinot Noir…his favorite color is green…he loves children and animals and he abhors cruelty…he’s a Taurus…and he doesn’t have patience for people who “bullshit” and waste time being negative. Cool stuff like that, but I can’t wrap my head around the fact that he’s a daredevil who loves extreme sports.

  I perch on the edge of the leather couch and listen to him talking to Scout as he fills his bowl with dog food. I hear water run while he washes his hands. Sinking back against the plush leather, I close my eyes and try to erase tonight’s debacle as I listen to him putter around his kitchen.

  When Harrison enters the room, his brawny arms are balancing a thick wedge of cheddar cheese and a hunk of hard salami, a box of Triscuits, paper napkins and a bottle of Pinot Noir with two wine glasses.

  “Mmm, looks good,” I say. “I just got my appetite back.” And not only for food…Harrison looks delicious.

  He smiles. “Good.”

  I help him unload the stuff on his coffee table and wait while he sits beside me and opens the wine bottle.

  “I’m impressed that Scout hasn’t come up begging for treats. I should bring Romeo over to learn some manners.”

  “Anytime you like.” Harrison hands me a glass of wine.

  I take a sip and close my eyes, allowing the wine to swirl around my tongue and roll down my throat. “Ahhh, so good.” When I open my eyes, Harrison is watching me with an amused lift of his brows.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe later.” I look away and take a long sip of wine.

  Harrison puts a slice of cheddar on top of a Triscuit and hands it to me. I watch him devour a cracker with one bite of his strong teeth.

  “I like your place. It’s inviting.” I’m feeling more relaxed than I have all evening.

  He refills my glass. “Put your feet up and get comfy.”

  “Better not give me much more. I’m a lightweight.” Slipping off my sandals, I curl my feet underneath me and take another sip of wine.

  Harrison hands me another cracker.

  “You don’t have to feed me,” I protest, giggling. I glance at my near-empty second glass of wine. Slow down…it’s wine, not water. No wonder I’m giggling for no reason. I pop the Triscuit in my mouth. By now my senses are so heightened that I relish every crunchy, salty bite. I take another sip of wine and incline my head. When I peer up, my gaze locks with Harrison’s dark green eyes and the air sizzles between us.

  “Feeling better?” He takes the wine glass from my hand and places it on the table. Reaching over, his thumb whisks a crumb off the side of my mouth.

  “Yes.” My voice comes out breathless as he holds my gaze.

  “Good.” He smoothes my hair away from my face. Mesmerized, I watch the play of muscles underneath his tanned forearm. He keeps his touch light against my jaw, stroking it with the rough pad of his thumb and it’s all I can do not to purr like a kitten.

  A soft moan escapes my lips. Harrison’s touch is just what the doctor ordered, especially after Alex’s rejection.

  A rousing coil of desire unleashes in my lower belly as Harrison’s big hand glides along my neck leaving goose bumps in its trail, while his free arm draws me toward him. I nestle against his hard chest and inhale deeply, savoring his clean, male scent as I tilt my face up. Harrison’s mouth trails across my brow and my cheek, kissing my sensitized skin softly. His velvety lips close over my earlobe and I shiver as more goose bumps prickle my skin. I open my mouth and welcome the sweet plunder of his tongue and moan against the deliberate invasion as he tastes me with breathtaking thoroughness.

  “You taste delicious,” he murmurs. His broad hand cradles the back of my head, anchoring me to him for slow, deep kisses that make me mindless with wanting him. I am so hot for him, I squirm and try to get as close as I can. I hold his face and pull away long enough to kiss the rasp on his strong jaw. He resumes kissing me, exploring, tasting—deliciously probing until I can barely sit still. My heart careens
against my chest and I moan out loud, loving the way Harrison’s firm hand strokes my spine from my neck to my bottom, squeezing my curves while he makes love to my mouth.

  “That feels so good,” I croon into his mouth. A sweet, sharp ache of arousal builds inside me and my pulse goes wild. My skin is flushed as my whole body pulsates with desire. My mouth blossoms beneath his demanding one as he continues to kiss me with breathtaking thoroughness. His lips lower to the hollow in my throat where he gives me a soft lick and I feel a jolt straight to my feminine core. The satiny scrape of his tongue against my bare skin makes my sweet spot clench and pulse as waves of pleasure inundate me. Harrison nuzzles my neck and whispers husky endearments that make me dizzy and weak with longing. My nails dig into his hard shoulders and…

  Suddenly, I feel a sharp nudge against the back of my thigh. I turn to find Scout trying to crash our party. Panting, he pushes against the couch and plants his face on my lap, drooling up at us.

  “Down boy,” Harrison commands in a low voice, his face dark and fierce with desire.

  But it’s too late, the mood is broken and sanity returns as a sharp slap to my face. What am I doing here, encouraging Harrison, allowing his kisses to melt me into a helpless puddle of longing?

  With shaky hands, I smooth my hair and adjust my T-shirt. My lips are swollen and I am ravenous for more of Harrison’s sexy kisses, but I have to get out of here before I regret it.

  Harrison drags a hand through his hair, his body rigid and his jaw tight.

  I get up from the couch and grab my purse. “I’m sorry. I have to leave.” Scout starts barking as I run to the door and open it.

  Harrison follows me to the door. “Don’t go. Stay,” he coaxes in a gruff voice that sends prickly tingles coursing through me. My gaze connects with Harrison’s and the searing desire in his eyes nearly knocks me to my knees. But I fear if I stay, I’ll regret it.