by Candi Wall
Jensen looped an arm around Lawson’s shoulder, “She likes the brooders, Uncle Lawson. You know, one o’ those fix-’em-up types of women.”
“That’s not true.” Abby laughed.
Both young men gave her a knowing smile.
Lawson walked over and kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful.” He fingered the white lace at her arm with a grimace. “You know what they say about wedding cake, right?”
Oh, she was going to regret asking. “No, Lawson. What do they say?”
“It’s an instant recipe for killing a woman’s sex drive.”
He ducked out of the room before she could swat him. Damn Elliot boys.
The second time her door opened, Marla Elliot, her mother-in-law in just under ten minutes, walked in wearing a floral peach gown. Her gray-white hair was piled high, and it was the first time Abby could recall seeing her wear make-up. “How you holding up, honey?”
“Scared, happy, hoping I don’t puke while I’m walking down the aisle.”
Marla stepped up next to her at the mirror and adjusted her veil. “You’ll be fine.” Tears shimmered in her blue eyes. “Elliot boys are difficult to love sometimes. They’re stubborn and opinionated and brash, but worth it. So very worth it.”
Abby nodded. She wouldn’t change a moment of her life since the moment she set eyes on Brack Elliot. “At least they don’t hide it. I know what I’m getting into.”
“You tell me if that’s still true in a couple years.” Marla chuckled. “Here, I have something for you.”
She placed a small box in Abby’s hand. It was old, the white velvet yellowed around the tattered edges.
“What’s this?”
“A tradition. It’s been worn by every Elliot bride for a hundred years. Maybe more.” Marla hugged her close. “Thank you for bringing happiness into Brack’s and Jonathon’s lives.”
“They are everything to me,” she admitted. “I’ll try every day to make them happy.”
“I know that.” She sniffled and pressed a warm hand to Abby’s cheek. “I’m sorry your mother couldn’t be here.”
Abby’s heart ached. No matter what illness claimed her mother, she wished she could have shared this day with her too. She’d come to visit twice in the last six months…each visit resulting in the same time-tested way. Abby sighed. “Thank you. Maybe someday…”
For now, they didn’t even know where she’d gone. Abby knew someday she’d appear again, and she and Brack had a plan. The justice system had put strict limits on her mother’s freedom. If it came to that—to keep her safe and healthy—they would make the call. It might work, it might not, but she was tired of running. No matter what her mother chose, Abby wouldn’t ever run again. She had too many reasons to stay.
Merrit Elliot cleared his throat at the door. “We’re ready to get this show on the road, ladies.”
Abby turned and smiled at Brack’s father. “Don’t you look handsome.”
He tugged at his stiff white collar. “All trussed up like a dinner goose. Let’s get this done so I can change. It ain’t the weddin’, it’s the life after that matters.”
Marla looped an arm through his and scolded him as they exited the room.
Abby opened the box. Inside was a small ivory broach the size of a half-dollar. The silver encasement shone with a brilliant sparkle and held an oval of ivory carved into a relief of a single white lily. Tall leaves wrapped around the lily like a shroud, creating an open heart around the flower. It was a beautiful piece, and she attached it to the bodice of her dress with pride.
She was an Elliot bride.
Taking a deep breath, Abby walked from the room. The wedding party waited in the hall. Rand stood at the end of the hall talking to Lawson and Jonathon. His smile had changed in the last months. He’d given his blessing to her and Brack, but a lingering sadness lived in his gaze. She didn’t think it had anything to do with her, but she cared enough to wish it away. He deserved happiness. He mouthed “beautiful”, and she felt her eyes fill with tears again. She was never going to make it through this day without bawling.
When Jonathon followed Rand’s gaze, he smiled and hurried over.
“You look like you want to run away,” he signed.
A short laugh broke free and Abby relaxed. “No, not at all. I’m just not much for all this center-of-attention stuff.”
He nodded and offered her his arm as the wedding party started their march. He’d asked to walk her down the aisle when she’d mentioned not having a father, and she couldn’t be happier. There was no one else she’d want at her side.
The soft strains of Here Comes the Bride started, and she squeezed his arm. “Ready?”
He grinned, a simple grin that was all Elliot, all Brack, and every ounce of tension dissipated. She loved these men more than she ever thought possible. As they rounded the corner and her gaze found Brack, she knew without a doubt where she belonged.
His smile drew her forward, his love for her bright in his eyes. It wrapped around her heart until it felt like it would burst.
No matter what happened, she was home to stay.
About the Author
Candi Wall is probably the only person whose real name is more epic than any pseudonym she could have come up with—even as an author! She writes because the voices in her head have to come out somehow. Animal rescue-ess, mother of four and soccer mom by day, she spends her free time writing—often on napkins at kids’ games because she never knows when a juicy story will reveal its delicious self. She once wrote a sex scene at a wrestling meet. Shhhhhh!
You can find her on Musetracks, Twitter, Facebook, www.CandiWallBooks.com, and via e-Mail.
Look for these titles by Candi Wall
Now Available:
Primitive Nights
Two different worlds…one distinct love.
Primitive Nights
© 2013 Candi Wall
As a member of Endurance International, Myla Jordan seeks to stop the illegal logging, diseases and displacement that threaten primitive South American tribes. While posing undercover as an engineer for one of the biggest industrial culprits—InterCorp—her helicopter crashes, stranding her in the Peruvian jungle. Captured and dragged before a tribal leader, she’s shocked by his light skin, green eyes, perfect English—and her body’s instant reaction to his touch.
The woman wearing an InterCorp insignia—yet protesting her innocence—is a direct threat to Damon Hanson’s people, yet he can’t bring himself to let her be killed. Raised in the tribe, taught the ways of the outsiders by his English mother, he knows of only one way to protect the foolish woman. Toss her over his shoulder, declare she is his…and somehow resist the temptation she presents.
Their powerful attraction gradually—sometimes painfully—overcomes suspicion. Yet even as their love grows as fast and wild as the rainforest, it may not be enough to overcome the common enemy that seeks to destroy them all.
Warning: With a modern-day Tarzan, who’s as wild and sexy as they come, being a captive has never been so…captivating.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Primitive Nights:
A soft gasp broke through his thoughts, and he turned to find Myla staring at him. Her gaze moved over him. He saw no fear. Merely curiosity. The way her eyes traveled his body was arousing, and when she licked her lips, his sex swelled. When her gaze rested on his arousal, her cheeks flamed and she looked away. It was an odd reaction. He was unused to a woman who denied her feelings.
She swallowed hard, her eyes rounded. Now he saw fear radiating from the blue depths. “W-what are you doing?”
The way she jolted when he moved spoke of her thoughts. He wrapped a ceremonial cloth around his waist to ease her worry. “You need not be concerned. I will not force myself on you. I must prepare.”
The soft rustle of her movements filled the hut as she sat up stiffly. “Prepare? For what?”
He walked to the cot and helped her to her feet. She did not resist his touch. “The man
who harmed you is my brother. He has challenged me.”
Her brows furrowed. “Challenged? To a fight?”
The need to touch her hair flexed his fingers, and he slipped them through a curl on her shoulder. “Yes.”
Her hand closed over his, her eyes wide. “No.” She sank to the cot, shaking her head. “You can’t. Please, he didn’t hurt me. I swear.”
“It does not matter. He challenged me. You were merely a reason more feasible than others.”
Tears brimmed her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “I didn’t wish to cause problems. Why can’t you let me go? Then this will all end.”
Damon dropped to his knees and lifted her chin so she looked at him. “You will need to leave if Tinjtol kills me.”
She gasped. “Kill you? You’ll kill each other over this?”
“Yes. And if I lose, Tinjtol will kill you.”
Her hand fluttered through the air. “I don’t want this to happen. Can’t you talk to him? Explain to him that I will leave. That there is no need for violence.”
He wished it were that simple. Maybe in her world, but not in his. He dropped his hand away from her face, troubled by the sensations that lingered from her soft skin. “My brother uses your appearance to do what has been his intent for some time now. You are nothing more than a path to me and his wish to end my time as bajluk.”
“Badgelook? That means leader?” She waited for him to nod before continuing. “And he wants to take your place?”
The sad set of her face tugged at his heart. Did she truly mean it when she said she wanted to help? Her distress certainly seemed genuine. “Yes, he chooses a different path for eliminating the white men’s presence on our lands.” He stood and paced away. “There are rival tribes who have been forced over our borders by your people’s invasion. This causes discord and fights. Tinjtol has tried for several years to convince our elders to stand up and fight together.”
She shook her head. “Violence solves nothing. The more you and the other tribes fight, the greater the chances that InterCorp’s ingression will become easier. Doesn’t he realize his way will make your numbers weaker?”
Damon’s heart pounded in his chest. Exactly. Her views matched the very sentiments he wished the elders to understand. Not only did he find her intriguing as an outsider, her understanding of his tribe’s plight was astounding.
If he survived the fire circle, he would bring her before the council elders. He only hoped hearing this view from someone outside their world might help convince them the time had come to change ancient ways. Fighting a losing battle was no longer feasible. The time had come for conformity, to a certain extent. “Tinjtol holds to the old ways. While I wish our existence could remain as it is, my mother taught me that life is uncertain and progress will not and cannot be stopped.”
“She’s right.” Myla stood and walked over to his collections. She ran a hand through the numerous stones before picking up a cracked geode. The purple crystals sparkled even in the limited light. “This rock is a perfect example. It may have taken thousands of years to form into this brilliance on the inside and yet time, coupled with the progression of better tools, broke it.”
Damon moved closer to cover her hand with his. “There is little I or anyone else can do. What has happened to it can only be stalled, so that it does not break more.”
She didn’t move away when he pressed closer and he inhaled her scent, letting it fill him. Her smile came sad. “You’re right that nothing can restore it, but now that it has been fractured, the same progress that destroyed it can protect it.” Her words were a mere whisper, and he followed the path of her tongue over her full bottom lip.
He ran his thumb across the crystals until he touched the smooth skin of her wrist. Her pulse beat in a frantic cadence. “It is hard to decide who will protect and who will continue to destroy.”
“You can trust me.”
Could he? For a moment he warred with her words. He wanted to believe her, and yet… His tribe depended on him. “I cannot.”
She shook her head. “Then there is no hope. Others will come. These people will destroy everything you hold dear.”
Confusion ripped through his mind. She spoke the truth. But with so much at stake, trust held a heavy price. He wanted to understand her, to know why she fought for a people to which she had no connection.
Questions that could not be ignored. As impossible to disregard as the desire she awoke within him. Or the anger.
Yanking her close, he crushed her to his chest. He needed to taste her, feel her body against his. She kept her hand between them, holding her shirt closed, and the simple barrier frustrated him. He wanted to feel her skin against his own. For now he would settle for what she would give.
He crushed his mouth to hers, inhaling her gasp. It could have been pleasure or shock that stilted her breaths, but he pressed on until she opened.
Certain she would pull away if he gave her any opportunity, he delved into her mouth, lingering with easy sweeps until she met his thrusts. Her response, the way she curved closer, pressing her body into his, drove him mad. He wanted her. Wanted to bury himself inside her, wanted to taste every inch of her body. And even through his desire-fogged brain, he knew the truth.
She was not his, nor would she ever be.
Sometimes falling in love is the easy part…
Trust in Me
© 2013 Dee Tenorio
A Rancho del Cielo Romance
Locke Jackman is single, childless…and he has a bad case of empty nest syndrome. For years, as he fought tooth and nail to keep his brothers and sisters together after his parents died, his entire life was focused on his responsibilities.
Now his siblings have all moved on with their lives, and there’s no one around to distract him from his overpowering attraction to his sister’s best friend. Their mutual desire is stunning…but then again, so are the secrets keeping them apart.
Susie Packard’s nightmarish marriage taught her what happens when she gives in to her weakness for powerful men. Too bad the big, stoic frowner across the street—the one who sets her bells jangling just by breathing—has her in his sights.
Try as she might to keep her emotional distance, Locke is determinedly knocking down all her walls. But as much as she wants to be the woman he needs, she knows better than most— passion may have its rewards, but every secret has its price.
Warning: This book contains a hot, modern-day Viking seducing his way to the heart of his woman, a stubborn lingerie designer with a world of secrets and a very deep bathtub… Enjoy!
Enjoy the following excerpt for Trust in Me:
“Fine.” He set his forearms on the table, leaning toward her, hoping like hell he didn’t screw this up. The thought of walking out the door and never being let back in scared the shit out of him, leaving his gut in knots. Be gentle… “I want to hold you, all night long. I want to feel you stretched out next to me, breathing against my neck. I want to smell your hair and whatever that flowery shit is you put in it and dream about holding you all night long. I need some goddamn peace, Susie, and I want it with you.”
She blinked, swallowing so hard he heard it. Practically felt it. Maybe he would have if his heart wasn’t beating so rough his temples ached.
“I-I don’t think there was a question in there.”
“If I ask, you’ll say no just to prove you can.”
Her lids fluttered closed.
“It’s just us, baby. We can be honest when it’s just us. I need you tonight. And I think you need me. It doesn’t have to be more than that.”
A lick to her lips. Her brows came together again while she seemed to argue with herself. “People will talk.”
“When has that ever stopped me from anything?”
She seemed to weigh that, finally opening her eyes. “We can’t have sex, I mean it.”
“I can live with that.” For now.
She studied him, her lips twitching at the corners. “I’m gonna
regret this, aren’t I?”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“I know,” she muttered, shaking her head. “That’s what worries me.” She stood, reaching her slim hand out and slipping her fingers over his. She tugged and just like that, he could breathe again. “One night, Jackman. Just sleep.”
“Just sleep.”
She didn’t miss his lack of agreement to the other stipulation, but thankfully, she didn’t make a fuss about it. Just sighed and pulled him toward her bedroom.
The short trip wasn’t easy on his nerves. A million questions ran through his mind. Would she allow him under the blankets with her? Would they sleep skin to skin? Could he keep his hands off her all night long, as he’d promised? Would she forget herself and let her own hands wander over him? If she did, did that mean all bets were off?
He wasn’t the only one second-guessing himself, he decided, when Susie stared at her wrought-iron girl bed like it was a dragon come to eat her. She let go of him and brought her hand up to worry her fingers over the charm on her necklace. “I’m insane to be doing this.”
“It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”
She turned to pierce him with a displeased look.
Well, it wasn’t.
“That was different. We were carried away. This time, we’re just walking in. It’s…it’s…”
“Lacking romance?”
She snorted on her laughter. She actually snorted. Then kept right on laughing.
“What? I can be romantic.” That night in the cabin was damn romantic. Fire burning, a soft bed, beers and pretzels… He frowned. Maybe that last bit hadn’t been the stuff women dream about, but sitting across from her on the cabin’s rug while she clutched the sheet over her chest, watching her throat move as she swallowed from the long-neck? It was damn romantic to him.
Susie’s hand fell on his chest, soothing over his heart. He liked it, until she used the other to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Don’t hurt yourself thinking about it. Just trust me, romance isn’t something I think you’re able to do on purpose.”