“Thanks,” Zach muttered. Shit. How embarrassing. If any of his four younger sisters were here right now, they’d be in hysterics.
Cameron smiled into the camera for the last time today. “Thanks for watching. I’m Cameron Ondine, and I’ll see you next week on NFL Confidential.” She waited until the floor director gave her the signal that the camera was off and stood up to stretch. Today’s guest had been a twenty-five-year-old quarterback who’d just signed a five-year contract with Baltimore’s team for seventy-five million dollars. Fifty million of it was guaranteed. His agent hovered just off-camera, but not close enough to prevent the guy in question from asking Cameron to accompany him to his hotel suite and “hook up.”
Cameron wished she were surprised about such invitations, but they happened with depressing frequency. The network wanted her to play up what she had to offer—fresh-faced, wholesome beauty, a body she worked ninety minutes a day to maintain, and a personality that proved she wasn’t just another dumb blonde. She loved her job, but she didn’t love the fact that some of these guys thought sleeping with her was part of the deal her employers offered when she interviewed them.
An Excerpt from
DARING MISS DANVERS
The Wallflower Wedding Series
by Vivienne Lorret
Oliver Goswick, Viscount Rathburn, needs money, but only marriage to a proper miss will release his inheritance. There’s just one solution: a mock courtship with a trusted friend.
Miss Emma Danvers knows nothing good can come of Rathburn’s scheme. Still, entranced by the inexplicable hammering he causes in her heart, she agrees to play his betrothed despite her heart’s warning. It’s all fun and games . . . until someone falls in love!
“Shall we shake hands to seal our bargain?”
Not wanting to appear as if she lacked confidence, Emma thrust out her hand and straightened her shoulders.
Rathburn chuckled, the sound low enough and near enough that she could feel it vibrating in her ears more than she could hear it. His amused gaze teased her before it traveled down her neck, over the curve of her shoulder and down the length of her arm. He took her gloveless hand. His flesh was warm and callused in places that made it impossible to ignore the unapologetic maleness of him.
She should have known this couldn’t be a simple handshake, not with him. He wasn’t like anyone else. So, why should this be any different?
He looked down at their joined hands, turning hers this way and that, seeing the contrast no doubt. His was large and tanned, his nails clean but short, leaving the very tips of his fingers exposed. Hers was small and slender, her skin creamy, her nails delicately rounded as was proper. Yet, when she looked at her hand covered by his, she felt anything but proper.
She tried to pull away, but he kept it and moved a step closer.
“I know a better way,” he murmured and before she knew his intention, he tilted up her chin and bent his head.
His mouth brushed hers in a very brief kiss. So brief, in fact, she almost didn’t get a sense that it had occurred at all. Almost.
However, she did get an impression of his lips. They were warm and softer than they appeared, but that was not to say they were soft. No, they were the perfect combination of softness while remaining firm. In addition, the flavor he left behind was intriguing. Not sweet like liquor or salty like toothpowder, but something in between, something . . . spicy. Pleasantly herbaceous, like a combination of pepper and rosemary with a mysterious flavor underneath that reminded her . . . of the first sip of steaming chocolate on a chilly morning. The flavor of it warmed her through. She licked her lips to be certain, but made the mistake of looking up at him.
He was staring at her lips, his brow furrowed.
The fireflies vanished from his eyes as his dark pupils expanded. The fingers that were curled beneath her chin spread out and stole around to the base of her neck. He lowered his head again, but this time he did not simply brush his lips over hers. Instead, he tasted her, flicking his tongue over the same path hers had taken.
A small, foreign sound purred in her throat. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Kissing Rathburn was wrong on so many levels. They weren’t truly engaged. In fact, they were acquaintances only through her brother. They could barely stand each other. The door to the study was closed—highly improper. Her parents or one of the servants could walk in any minute. She should be pushing him away, not encouraging him by parting her lips and allowing his tongue entrance. She should not curl her hands over his shoulders, or discover that there was no padding in his coat. And she most definitely should not be on the verge of leaning into him—
There was a knock at the door. They split apart with a sudden jump, but the sound had come from the hall. Someone was at the front of the house.
She looked at Rathburn, watching the buttons of his waistcoat move up and down as he caught his breath. When he looked away from the door and back to her, she could see the dampness of their kiss on his lips. Her kiss.
He grinned and waggled his brows as if they were two criminals who’d made a lucky escape. “Not quite as buttoned-up as I thought.” He licked his lips, ignoring her look of disapproval. “Mmm . . . jasmine tea. And sweet, too. I would have thought you’d prefer a more sedate China black with lemon. Then again, I never would have thought such a proper miss would have such a lush, tempting mouth either.”
She pressed her lips together to blot away the remains of their kiss. “Have you no shame? It’s bad enough that it happened. Must you speak of it?”
He chuckled and stroked the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip as his gaze dipped, again, to her mouth. “You’re right, of course. This will have to be our secret. After all, what would happen if my grandmother discovered that beneath a façade of modesty and decorum lived a warm-blooded temptress with the taste of sweet jasmine on her lips?”
An Excerpt from
WOO’D IN HASTE
by Sabrina Darby
Miss Bianca Mansfield is ready for her debut. If only her older sister didn’t insist on marrying first. She’s doomed to wait to find love. Until she meets . . . him.
For Lucian Dorlingsley, Viscount Asquith, recently returned from an extended tour abroad, it is love at first sight. He’s determined to meet Bianca, even if it means masquerading as a tutor to her young half-brother.
A man’s life can change in an instant. Lucian Dorlingsley, Viscount Asquith, heir to the Earl of Finleigh, had heard this aphorism many times, but until that particular August morning, he had never experienced such a profound moment. Not once in his sheltered childhood at his familial estate. Or during the more arduous years at Harrow and Cambridge. Not even during the long continental tour from which he had just returned.
Yet here, in the sleepy town of Watersham, where he was stopping briefly with the Colburns on his way home, his life had been rocked down to its very essence.
“I’m in love, Reggie!” He paced the length of the veranda where they were enjoying an al fresco luncheon. The sky beyond was a cerulean blue and the weather, for once, that rare balance of very English sunshine (and he had now seen enough of the world to know that sunshine had different qualities in different places) tempered by a delicate breeze. In other words, the perfect day to fall in love.
His friend, the younger brother of the Duke of Orland, looked at him doubtfully, a cautious smirk on his lips.
“Who is she, then? A Parisian dancer from the Opera? An Italian nymph? What paragon did you meet on your travels who has you so bound up in a paroxysm of amorous emotion?”
Reggie saw the world as one large jest, and on most occasions that was one of his charms. In fact, his boisterous manner was what made him so easy to be around; often Luc could simply follow him about and be amused without having to put himself forward in any way. It was also, at this moment, the one thing Luc did not need. Not about a matter so serious.
“No, nothing so cliché as all that. I saw her here, in the village this morning. I stopped b
y the apothecary, and there she was.”
“And did you pledge your undying love to her?”
Luc shook his head, ignoring Reggie’s exaggerations and persistent humor in the face of confessional honesty. An honesty that he had with few others, including his sisters. But Reggie had been the foremost companion of his youth, his roommate at Harrow and later at Cambridge. At least for the one year that Reggie had attended before he decided the pretense at study was a waste of his time. He’d been gallivanting about London ever since. “I could hardly approach her.”
“I shall never understand how such a giant as yourself can be one of the most painfully shy men that I know. One would think a Grand Tour would cure you of that.”
Europe had cured him, in many ways. Out of the shadow of his gregarious father, away from the judgments of his usual society, he had been able to be more himself. But now he was back in England, and . . . this was not just any woman.
“Miss Mansfield, they called her,” said Luc. “Do you know her? Can she be mine?” Not that he had ever thought twice about marriage before this point. He was still young and most of his friends unattached. Yet the idea of such beauty being his . . . His own Botticelli. He looked expectantly at Reggie, but his friend’s usually round, smiling face looked aghast.
“What? Is she promised to someone already? Are you in love with her, Reggie? Or is Peter? Have I lost my heart to some untouchable?”
“Untouchable, perhaps,” Reggie choked out, taking a moment to twirl the long hair that fell over his forehead in sandy curls. “I didn’t realize Kate was back from Brighton. But listen, Luc, this one— Forget about her. She may have been a success in London these last two seasons, but everyone in these parts knows her for the brat that she is.”
Brat? Luc couldn’t reconcile that word with the image that still lingered in his mind. Honey blonde hair framing a rosy-cheeked countenance. Eyes as blue as today’s perfect sky. A paragon of quiet English beauty, in fact.
“She seemed quite well liked. She had a charming smile and manner. Brat seems like an unfair epithet.”
“Not for Kate, but oh! Perhaps it was Bianca. Your Venus, was she fair or dark?”
An Excerpt from
BAD GIRLS DON’T MARRY MARINES
by Codi Gary
When hard-edged Valerie Willis suddenly finds herself face-to-face with former flame Justin Silverton, she knows her tough image won’t be enough to protect her heart.
It’s been ten years since Justin kissed Val, but he’s never moved on. So when a twist of fate brings him the chance to finally win her over during a singles mixer, Justin’s all in. Because the bad girl who stole his heart is just too good to let go . . .
“So, why is your dad making you come down here and participate in a giant singles mixer?” Justin asked, stealing her attention away from the white slip of paper.
“He calls it good press. Guess he figures I need help finding a man,” she said, wishing she hadn’t answered him quite so candidly. “I don’t, though. Need help, I mean.”
Why are you stammering? Bending over the counter, she started filling in the blanks, hoping he couldn’t see the obvious blush warming her cheeks.
“If it makes you feel any better, I never thought you needed any help in that department,” he said, his voice dropping to a low whisper.
Val could feel the desk clerk’s eyes on her and muttered, “Stop it.”
“What? It’s a compliment.”
“You’re just messing around to get a rise out of me.”
“How is me being honest messing with you?”
“Because . . .” How did she not have a comeback to put him in his place? She always knew what to say. It was one of her strengths, but he had the ability to turn her into a stumbling, stuttering simpleton. “Because I said so.”
His chuckle was a deep rumble, and her insides squeezed in on themselves, making her cross her legs as a tingling started between them. Quickly, she handed the paper back to the desk clerk and turned to face Justin with what she hoped was a cold, hard stare.
“I don’t like to be made fun of.”
He seemed genuinely surprised as the desk clerk said, “Alright, Miss Willis, here is your room key and your itinerary bag. I hope you enjoy your stay in True Love and that you have a blast at the festival.”
Val took the bag and key from the woman, resisting the urge to make a face. “Thank you.”
Spinning away from Justin, she walked back out to her truck, only to hear him exit behind her.
“Hey!” His hand circled her arm gently, and he turned her toward him, but on the slick ground, she lost her balance. Falling against him, her face got buried in the puff of his jacket, and she wondered if the fates were trying to pull some weird Serendipity crap on her.
She tried to right herself, but he’d wrapped an arm around her waist and was using the other gloved hand to lift her chin, raising her gaze to meet his.
“I wasn’t making fun of you. I was being serious. You’re a beautiful woman. You just say the word and a dozen guys will line up to have you.”
Whether it was his tone or the expression on his face, she didn’t know, but her mouth suddenly seemed too dry. Words failed her, but then, who needed words when a pair of warm lips were suddenly covering hers?
As Justin kissed her, his tongue pushing past her lips, she could only hold on tight while her body turned to molten lava and the blood thundered in her ears.
Impatient honking and a loud voice yelling, “Hey, lovebirds, get a room,” broke through the drumbeat her heart was pounding out, and she whispered, “We shouldn’t do this.”
His lips touched hers lightly once more, and he whispered back, “You mean here or—”
The guy in the truck honked again and Val pulled away. “I mean, I’m not here for . . . for that.”
Justin crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s too bad.”
Again a blast of honking ensued, and Val shot the driver a nasty look and a worse gesture before turning away from Justin and reaching for her car door. Looking over her shoulder at him, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “About the guys lined up . . .”
“Yeah?”
“I take it you’re one of them?” She already knew the answer, but the small piece of her ego that had been smashed by Cole’s designer shoes needed to hear it aloud.
He stepped forward and helped her into the car, grinning. “What do you think?”
She didn’t answer before she closed the door and started her truck.
Why did you have to ask him that?
Because she was a glutton for torture and punishment.
An Excerpt from
VARIOUS STATES OF UNDRESS: CAROLINA
by Laura Simcox
What happens when the president’s daughter and her sexy Secret Service agent find themselves snowbound? A little cabin fever, some serious forbidden attraction, and Various States of Undress . . .
Alarm coursed through Jake’s blood the second his lips were on hers, but he ignored it. They’d already crossed the line, hadn’t they? Hell, they’d probably crossed the line the minute they’d walked into the cabin yesterday, if he was being honest with himself. Not that he wanted to be honest right now. He just wanted more. More softness. More of her lips, which were brushing gently against his—opening, inviting.
Her fresh scent enveloped him when she wrapped her arms tighter, and he groaned, splaying his fingers across her slender back. This was wrong. No matter how safe it seemed, it would come back to haunt him. He knew that. But as his lips angled across hers and his tongue slid into her sweet mouth, the heat he found inside was intoxicating. He sank into her, returning her kisses, drawing her closer. Getting lost in her arms.
Trailing kisses across her cheeks and down her slender neck, he threaded one hand through her hair and cupped the back of her head as he bent forward, capturing her mouth again.
She let out a soft moan, and her warm hands drifted to the side of his face. She ki
ssed him feverishly, and then her lips broke free and settled in the crook of his jaw. She whispered his name. “Jake. Jake, I want—”
“Carolina,” he answered in a rush of breath. His eyes closed, and he dragged his hand from her back to caress the side of her breast. Even though she wore a couple of layers, he could tell that one of those layers wasn’t a bra. His jaw tightened as he imagined her naked breasts. He wanted to taste them—and he could. Because she would let him.
Desire crashed through him, rushing straight down, making him swell in an instant. He opened his eyes and looked into hers, which were half-lidded with lust. Her head was still pillowed in his palm.
“Touch me,” she said. “Please.”
Instinctively, he shook his head. “I can’t.”
“You can.” She settled her fingers over his, pushing them around her breast.
“I can,” he admitted. He stared at her open mouth, aching to take it again. “But I won’t.”
She blinked. “We’ve already crossed the line, you know.”
“Not completely.” He let out a slow breath, lifted her back into a kneeling position, and let his hands slide away from her body.
“Far enough.”
It was nowhere near far enough, but Jake couldn’t think about that right now. Clearing his throat, he stood up and offered her a hand. She stared at it, not moving.
“Carolina . . .”
“Why can’t we just enjoy each other?” She tilted her chin and stared up at him.
He shoved his hand into his pocket and turned away to walk into the kitchen. Once he was behind a counter, he adjusted the front of his jeans and reached for the coffeepot. Annoyance began to seep in, killing his lust. Good. He needed the distraction of being irritated, because she knew the answer to her own question. He shouldn’t have to spell it out.
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