Wildest Dreams

by Blake, Toni

  Which was when he realized the big clear plastic bag she’d been carrying lay right next to him on the ground—she’d been so pissed at him that she’d walked off without it.

  And that gave him an idea.

  Since he didn’t think Jenny Tolliver could be trusted to keep his presence a secret . . . well, it might be wise to pay her a visit, remind her that he was deadly serious about the promise she’d made.

  And in the meantime, maybe he’d sleep worse than usual in that hot little house tonight, because he had brand new problems to worry about.

  Or . . . maybe he’d sleep better, because he’d be taking even hotter memories back inside with him.

  An Excerpt from

  SUGAR CREEK

  Rachel Farris returned to her childhood home with one mission in mind: get Mike Romo, the local police officer, out of her family’s apple orchard business and out of their lives. However, neither the hunky cop nor the sexy prodigal hometown girl can anticipate the electricity that heats things up whenever they’re together.

  Rachel sighed audibly. He was back to being his jerky self, that fast. “No, as a matter of fact, I’m not happy. I’m freaking miserable, actually.”

  “Well, it’s your own damn fault,” he complained.

  And that was it. She stared boldly up into those dark brown eyes of his, thoroughly disgusted. She’d had it with his rude behavior. She’d had it with . . . everything. “Look, I didn’t want to come here tonight. I did it as a favor for a friend. I don’t even want to be in this stupid town, but here I am, trying to help out my grandma. And now I’ve got you, giving me ridiculously expensive tickets and acting like I’m a terrible person every time I see you. Well, I’m not that terrible, Romo. So why don’t you just take your attitude and your blame and your self-righteousness and shove it up your—”

  “Stop!” he said then, reaching up, closing his hands tight on her upper arms. “Be quiet! Be quiet.”

  At first, she thought maybe he’d heard something outside and wanted to listen. But that’s when she realized he was staring at her lips. And that somewhere during her diatribe his eyes had drifted half shut, while his mouth now fell slightly open. He still had that light, stubbly beard going, and being right next to him like this, she could smell that musky scent again—in fact, it was permeating her senses. He stood so close, just a few inches away. How had she not noticed that until now?

  As she’d spoken, her adrenaline had risen, and peering up at him, she heard herself breathing—and he suddenly seemed to be breathing pretty heavily, too.

  “Maybe we should just do this, get it over with, get it out of our systems,” he said.

  She blinked up at him. “Do what?”

  And then he kissed her—hard.

  His mouth sank over hers with such power that she had to lean into him just to keep from collapsing.

  “Oh. That,” she breathed when the kiss ended.

  Then she instinctively kissed him again, pressing her hands to his chest. She was a little shocked—by his actions, by hers—but mostly just . . . pleasured.

  “Yeah. That,” he said, voice ragged with passion.

  After which their mouths came back together, kissing feverishly, and Rachel followed the urge to ease back against his sturdy body, now feeling his kiss . . . everywhere.

  An Excerpt from

  WHISPER FALLS

  After a failed big-city career, Tessa Sheridan has returned to Destiny to pick up the pieces. She certainly didn’t expect to fall for the biker next door! They say that former teen rebel Lucky Romo has a dark, secret past—that he’s trouble with a capital “T.” But when Lucky invites her into his world, she has a more than hard time ignoring the growing sparks between them.

  Holy crap.

  She’d been right. This was Lucky Romo! In the flesh! It was a miracle!

  Because his family hadn’t heard from him in so long they’d actually feared he was dead. Which was because—uh-oh, she just remembered—they’d also gotten word at some point that he’d joined an outlaw biker gang out west.

  Oh boy. Bikers were one thing—outlaw bikers were another. Did she have some vile and dangerous criminal helping her look for Amy’s cat? Should she just forget Mr. Knightley and run? Maybe the sense of danger that hung around her neighbor was what had kept her from giving him her name. And if she didn’t run, should she tell him she knew who he was?

  Before she could think further, the door on the white house opened and Lucky Romo came walking back out—carrying a small bowl of milk in one large hand. Huh.

  He said nothing as he rejoined her in the yard, so she cleverly remarked, “Milk.” Then cringed. Stop with the brilliant comments already! Lucky Romo lowered the dish to the grass halfway between Tessa and the woods, then stepped back beside her. And that’s when she realized what Mr. K. had wanted when he’d been meowing at her. Amy gave him a saucer of milk every night with dinner—and Tessa had forgotten. Stubborn, spoiled cat.

  “Is that him?” Lucky asked.

  Tessa’s heart rose to her throat when she followed his pointing finger toward the edge of the yard, where the forest met the lawn—Mr. Knightley crouched there in the taller grass, peering at the milk as if it were prey. “Uh-huh,” she whispered.

  Both of them stayed quiet as Knightley slowly, silently inched toward the milk, his movements implying he thought he was being very sneaky about the whole thing. Once he started lapping at it, Tessa gingerly moved in to kneel beside him. He didn’t flinch when she reached to stroke his fur, too caught up in the milk, and she sighed, “Thank God,” giving the spotted cat an affectionate squeeze. For the first time since Knightley’s escape, Tessa felt like she could breathe again. She hadn’t lost Amy’s cat. Life would go on.

  But then she remembered the weirder part: Lucky Romo, of all people in the world, had helped her find him. She still couldn’t fathom that this big, tough guy was him. He’d left town at eighteen, which was—she did the math—sixteen years ago now. But this had to be him. The whole motorcycle thing fit. As did the name on the back of his shirt. Sure, it could be somebody else’s business, but he looked so much like Mike with that thick, dark hair and olive complexion.

  So this was him. Lucky Romo. Home at last.

  But . . . if he wasn’t here to reconcile with his family, why was he in Destiny?

  The second Mr. Knightley reached the bottom of the shallow bowl, Tessa anchored one arm snugly around him and pushed to her feet. “Thanks,” she said. Although peering back up into that tough-guy face and those captivating eyes made her a little dizzy. She’d never known a guy with muscles like this. With long hair. With so many tattoos.

  “No problem.” He was still Mr. Unemotional, though, his voice flat and detached.

  “You saved my life,” she felt the need to add.

  He gave his head a pointed tilt. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  His words made her remember the whole outlaw rumor. Maybe an outlaw biker dude took that kind of statement a lot more literally than she did. And did this mean she should be scared? She’d been a little scared even before remembering that part.

  And yet . . . even as her muscles stayed tensed, she felt a response to him in other places, too. In her breasts. Between her thighs. Good Lord—what was that about? Or—wait. Maybe it was all just nerves, her whole body getting into the act because he was so freaking intimidating. Hopefully. She couldn’t tell.

  So she dropped her gaze briefly and bit her lip, her heart still pounding too hard, before forcing her eyes back to his one last time. “Well, I better get him into the house before he tries to make another break for it.”

  Mr. Unresponsive didn’t reply, so with cat in hand, she turned to go.

  That’s when he said, “See ya later . . . hot stuff.”

  The last words halted Tessa in place. What had he just called her? Looking over her sho
ulder, she raised her gaze back to his—to find another tiny hint of amusement there as he said, “Your shirt.”

  Glancing down, Tessa wanted to die. She’d completely forgotten she wore a snug white tank with the words Hot Stuff written in script across it, actually half of a pajama set Rachel had given her for her birthday; the matching pants had little smiling hot peppers all over them. But the worst part was—she wasn’t wearing a bra, a fact that was scandalously apparent. She even caught a hint of color through the thin cotton. Dear God in heaven.

  An Excerpt from

  HOLLY LANE

  A weekend in a cabin near Destiny seems like the perfect Christmas gift to Sue Ann Simpkins—until her ex’s best friend, Adam Becker, shows up at the door, claiming the cabin is his! But when a sudden snowstorm strands them together in very close quarters, Adam soon realizes that what he really wants for Christmas is a second chance at love. Now all he has to do is convince Sue Ann . . .

  “What, um, are we doing?” she whispered in the still air.

  “I don’t know,” he whispered back, sounding earnest and yet . . . maybe a little needful.

  And then she lifted her gaze to his and their eyes met and she had the feeling she was looking at him like she wanted him to kiss her.

  And she must have been right about that, too, because that was when he leaned slowly, tentatively forward and brushed his lips ever-so-gently across hers. She let out a little gasp as the pleasure it delivered cascaded through her deprived body. Oh boy. Oh wow. Oh Lord.

  When their eyes met again, she noticed how blue his sparkled in the firelight and that her chest now heaved a little. And she said, dumbly, “I have a plate in my hand.” Because it seemed like it was going to be hard to kiss him that way.

  But he never acted like it was dumb at all—instead he just rushed to take the plate and set it on the coffee table with his—and then he took her back into his arms, pulled her close enough that there was no mistaking the hard bulge in his pants, and lowered his mouth to hers in the most powerful kiss she’d ever received.

  Whoa.

  She wasn’t usually thankful for blizzards, but suddenly, all she could think was—let it snow!

  IF THAT LAST kiss had been filled with power, the ones that followed were stunningly . . . smooth, controlled, and skilled. Wow. Adam definitely knew how to kiss a woman. As his hands skimmed her curves—one roaming her back, the other drifting seductively up her side toward her breast—it all left her breathless, the pleasures at once simple yet profound. The lack of urgency in his kisses combined with the confident way he delivered them gave the impression that he wasn’t racing toward some better end—but that he was completely and wholly satisfied by the moment, that he was enjoying the passion passing between them just as much as she was.

  She found herself shocked by how easy it was to stand there and kiss him, how her body seemed to take over, instantly comfortable moving against his. Since that’s what was happening now, very naturally—her breasts shifted sensually against his chest, her fingers twined in his thick, mussed hair. His hands had eased onto her ass now, which, of course, meant that in front she was grinding against him where he was hard and thick—and wow, talk about being breathless.

  This should be more awkward. But instead, it was just . . . pleasure, plain and simple.

  An Excerpt from

  WILLOW SPRINGS

  Amy Bright is desperately shy when it comes to her own love life, despite her matchmaking business—and helpless when it comes to firefighter Logan Whitaker, with whom she’s head-over-heels in love. One smoking-hot kiss could change everything for them . . . but will it ruin a one-of-a-kind friendship, or show Logan and Amy that they’ve already found everything they need, right here in Destiny?

  Finally, after a long moment, she said something so honest to Tessa that it was the first time she’d ever realized how true it was. “I used to think that. But I’m just not sure I believe it anymore. I’m not sure I’m meant to have that kind of happiness.”

  Tessa’s face fell as she instantly knelt next to Amy’s chair. “Of course you are, Ames. Everyone is. I went through a long drought myself if you recall, and felt pretty undateable. But then Lucky came along and all that changed in the blink of an eye.” Then she shook her head, obviously befuddled by Amy’s attitude. “What on earth brought this on?”

  Amy tried to swallow back all the emotion that rushed through her in response to the question even as she heard herself admit, “Something happened.”

  “Something happened?” Tessa asked.

  “With Logan,” Amy told her.

  Tessa’s eyebrows shot up as she moved smoothly into the overstuffed chair across from Amy’s and leaned forward, her gaze wide. “Start talking.”

  So Amy took a deep breath, and then she talked. She told Tessa the whole story of how Logan had kissed her but then afterward acted like she had the plague or something. Only Tessa didn’t seem to hear the part about the plague. Instead, she seemed . . . unaccountably overjoyed. “Oh my God, this is so great! I mean, could it be any greater?”

  Now it was Amy who blinked her astonishment. “Um, yes. Yes, it could be.”

  “Because you and Logan know each other so well! You’ve already got all of that behind you! You know each other’s families and backgrounds, you know who the other is deep inside, you know the kind of life each other has lived and wants to live in the future. I mean, Lucky and I had problems with some of that stuff—and it counts for a lot. All you and Logan have to do is get past the awkward friends-to-lovers transition and then you’ll have it made.”

  Amy just stared at her friend, feeling like they’d done a role reversal. It was usually Amy who saw everyone’s relationships through rose-colored glasses, refusing to acknowledge the difficult parts. But now she was viewing things from the other side. “Except for one fairly important thing,” she told Tessa. “He doesn’t want to go from friends to lovers. Because he doesn’t see me as a lover—only as a friend.”

  “But he didn’t kiss you like a friend, right?”

  “No.” He’d kissed her like . . . like she’d always dreamed of being kissed. “But he also said he must have thought I was someone else. I think he sees me as . . . more of a sister.”

  At this, however, Tessa just made a face. “I think he said that just to cover up because it caught him off guard. And I’m sure you’re exaggerating the part about him acting like you had the plague.” Then she gave her head an inquisitive tilt. “But before we go any further, let’s back up a minute and answer the most important question here. How do you feel about him?”

  Amy expelled a sigh and let everything she’d thought and felt since that kiss play back through her head. Reliving it quickly made her heart beat too hard and her palms sweaty. Her skin got hotter, too, and she soon noticed that, at the moment, it wasn’t particularly easy to breathe. And she still suffered that same mix of happy-sad-confused that had been making her feel a little crazy ever since the kiss. And she realized that even though she knew he didn’t want her, would surely never want her, and that this whole thing was very likely going to ruin their lifelong friendship, she still felt weirdly happy and giddy inside when she pictured his handsome face in her mind.

  And then, then, she had no choice but to face the truth, the truth which she suddenly understood had probably been festering inside her for a while now but she’d just been too in denial to admit to herself. It seemed useless to keep on denying it now, though, so she finally said to Tessa, “I think I’m in love with him.”

  An Excerpt from

  HALF MOON HILL

  Duke Dawson isn’t looking for love, but when Anna Romo comes wandering through his woods and into his cabin, she completely rocks his world. Running from a troubled past, Anna is building a new life in Destiny. When she first meets Duke, she’s terrified— but something about him calls to her very soul. Can she convince a man w
ho’s turned his back on life to take the biggest leap of faith of all and fall in love?

  “Sure you know what you’re doing with those things, Daisy?” he asked doubtfully, dark eyebrows knitting.

  Rather than reply to the question, though, she simply warned him, “I’d be careful calling me that while I have scissors in my hand.”

  He just gave her a look and she didn’t respond further. She couldn’t help taking a little perverse thrill in still not putting his mind at ease about her skills. It seemed like a bit of payback for all the times she’d felt off-balance since meeting him in her woods nearly a week ago.

  “So . . . what was with all the old music yesterday?”

  She combed a section of his hair, pulling it neatly away from his head until she caught it between the fingers of her other hand and began to snip, cutting away a large chunk and letting it fall to the floor. “Albums and an old record player I found in the attic.”

  “Yeah?” was all he said, but his tone made her think he might actually find it interesting, the same way she did.

  So she went on. “They belonged to a girl named Cathy who lived here in the fifties. Actually, I think she may have lived here all her life. The attic is filled with her stuff, and I’ve started going through it. Just out of curiosity.”

  This time his only reply was “Hmm,” but again she thought he was more intrigued than bored. And it made him feel more . . . human to her or something. Unless she was just imagining it.

  Don’t read too much into this guy’s personality. You still don’t know him very well. Yes, he saved your butt yesterday—but that doesn’t mean he’s a saint. So don’t go trying to make him into something he’s not.

  Stay wary.

  It just seemed like good advice to give herself right now.

  When things went silent, she said, “Can I ask you a question?”