“Of course I do. I love you, Helena. I’m not going to change my mind about that.”
She inhaled a shaky breath. “I didn’t believe in gut feelings after my father died. It was my way to protect myself from getting hurt. I was afraid to feel…too deeply. And then the earthquake hit, and you showed me what I was missing.”
His eyes darkened with emotion.
“I’m still afraid, but it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”
“It’s not as bad as you thought it would be,” he repeated, squinting into the distance. “That’s quite a romantic declaration.”
She surged ahead before she could bungle things further. “You were right about me, too. I was closed off and out of touch. It’s not easy for me to share my feelings. But I’m trying, because I love you.”
He straightened in his chair. “You what?”
“I love you,” she said, swallowing hard.
“You love me.”
“Yes.”
He just stared at her in shock.
“Say something.”
“I don’t know what to say. I had all of these sneaky plans to win you over. I was going to invite you on a nice vacation and butter you up.”
Tears of joy filled her eyes. This sharing-feelings thing was kind of liberating. She should do it more often. “We can go on a vacation.”
His lips curved into a smile. “Yeah?”
“What else did you have planned?”
“Asking you to move in with me at the end of the summer.”
They were already sleeping together every night. Shacking up with him wasn’t that much of a stretch. “I’ll think about it.”
“Really?”
She nodded.
“Maybe I should just pop the question while you’re in an agreeable mood.”
Laughing, she glanced around the restaurant. It had romantic lighting. “I thought you might have brought me here to do that.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“You thought I’d propose in public, at a place like this?”
“You wouldn’t?”
“Hell no. I’d take you somewhere classy, like Olive Garden.”
She laughed again, shaking her head.
“Would you have said yes?”
“I don’t know.”
He scrubbed a hand down his face, stunned.
“What?”
“I can’t believe this. You said you loved me, and you’ll think about moving in with me, and you might even marry me someday. Am I dreaming?”
“You’re not dreaming.”
“Pinch me.”
She got up from her chair and went to his side of the table. Sitting down on his lap, she twined her arms around his neck and brushed her lips over his. “How’s that?”
“I didn’t feel it.”
She kissed him again, deeper this time.
“You’re getting there,” he murmured.
“I’m not going any further. Buddha is watching.”
“Buddha doesn’t mind.”
“I do.”
“I love you, Helena. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
She wanted that, too. So she said yes, and he took her home, away from prying eyes to make her the happiest elephant keeper in San Diego.
The End
Author’s Note
I hope you enjoyed Wild. If you have time, please consider writing a brief online review. Reviews help new readers find me. Feel free to visit my website, sign up for my newsletter and like me on Facebook!
These are the other books in my Aftershock series:
Aftershock (Aftershock#1)
A female paramedic and a former Marine get trapped with a group of survivors.
Freefall (Aftershock #2)
A rugged rock climber teams up with a female park ranger to solve a murder.
Badlands (Aftershock #3)
A bodyguard with a tortured past falls for his client.
Passion & Peril (novella)
Snowed in with a sexy stranger.
Island Peril (novella)
Stranded with a handsome adventure guide.
Backwoods (Aftershock #4)
A family camping trip gone terribly wrong!
Like erotic romance? Pick up the first book in my new Dirty Eleven MC series:
Riding Dirty
You might also enjoy these books:
Stranded with Her Ex
RITA-nominated reunion romance set at the shark-infested Farallon Islands.
Tempted by his Target
Steamy action-adventure in rural Mexico with a lady fugitive and a US Marshal.
Risky Christmas (novella)
A single mom in hiding finds love with the sexy surfer next door.
Excerpt from
Wild for Him
Here’s a sneak peek of my upcoming contemporary romance novella, “Wild for Him” (Nov 2014). This is Mitch and Gwen’s story. I couldn’t leave them hanging!
Thanks for reading!
WILD FOR HIM
Mitch Stone is a man with a plan. Drive to San Diego, rescue his lady from the earthquake rubble and salvage their long-distance relationship. But instead of playing hero, he gets stuck volunteering at an evacuation center with his girlfriend’s quirky best friend.
Gwen Tagaloa is a woman on the edge. She’s a tattoo artist do-gooder who would never cross the line with her best friend’s man. Especially not an iceberg of a man like Mitch Stone. She appreciates his help and she doesn’t even notice his rock-hard muscles. Much.
After Mitch gets his heart broken, Gwen discovers that love—like an earthquake—can strike when you least expect it.
CHAPTER ONE
GWEN TAGALOA HAD the rudest awakening of her life.
She was shoved out of bed, thrown across the floor and doused by a full cup of water from her nightstand.
What the hell?
Before she could draw breath, she was pelted by multiple objects. Her alarm clock, cell phone and a heavy wooden tiki statue came crashing down on her head.
She cried out in shock, holding a hand to her wet hair. The room continued to spin and shudder, rocking her bed against the wall like a supernatural phenomenon. She couldn’t make sense of what was happening. There was no one else here. She hadn’t gotten lucky last night. She hadn’t even gotten drunk.
The bookshelf careened toward her and she snapped out of her stupor. She scrambled to get away, but her legs were tangled in the blankets and the floor was still bouncing. Paperbacks rained down on her, followed by the empty shelves.
Earthquake.
It was the Big One. She’d been born in San Diego and she’d never felt anything like this. The area was known for small tremors, which usually didn’t scare her. She knew she was supposed to stand in a doorway or crawl under a desk, but she couldn’t move.
Gripping the edges of the bookshelf for dear life, she squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the end to come.
Then, as soon as it began, it was over.
Not the world. Just the quake.
The ground stopped moving and the rattling went quiet. Multiple car alarms blared in the distance. Her neighbor’s dog was going nuts, barking up a storm. Gwen pushed aside the bookshelf and disentangled herself from the blankets. Standing, she left the bedroom and ventured into the hallway. Picture frames had fallen from the walls. She skirted around the glass in her bare feet.
The kitchen was a disaster area. Her coffeemaker, set to automatic, had toppled over, smashing against the tile and spilling fresh brew across the floor. Ignoring the mess, she hurried to the front door and went outside.
“Oh my God,” she said, clapping a hand over her mouth. The middle of the street was buckled and raised. Vehicles wouldn’t be able to get through her neighborhood. She glanced around in horror, stunned by the damage. She lived on the lower floor of a two-story condo. The upper floor was for sale, and empty. Although the building looked stable, some roof tiles had fallen and
the stucco was cracked.
Her neighbor walked out in his robe, his dog on a straining leash. He was about sixty and newly retired. His hair was sticking up all over the place. Gwen couldn’t remember his name. Walter, maybe.
“Everything okay?” Gwen asked him.
“I think so,” he said, gaping at her.
It dawned on her that she wasn’t dressed. She was wearing a tank top and panties, no bra. Her hair was wet. The tattoos on both arms added to her disreputable appearance. She was inked up from shoulder to elbow and then some. Although she didn’t care what her neighbors thought, she usually drew the line at parading around in her underpants.
Before she could hurry back inside, the earth starting rumbling again.
Aftershock.
Gwen hit the deck. She got down on her belly and covered her head as the ground undulated beneath her. This quake was almost as strong as the first, and it seemed to go on forever. More glass shattered and objects fell from the sky. Roof tiles crashed on the sidewalk right next to her. She got body-slammed against the lawn, her elbows and knees smarting on the slippery grass.
When the quaking ceased, she rolled over and sat up. Jesus. Now she was grass-stained, tattooed and indecent. But she was alive, and unharmed. She was lucky. She lived in a quiet area a few miles from downtown San Diego. The shantytowns of Tijuana were just across the border. Many people could be trapped and suffering.
Or dead.
Gwen’s parents lived in Hawaii, and her brother played football in Seattle. They were all probably safe. Unless there was a tsunami.
She scrambled to her feet, her pulse pounding. Her neighbor had fallen on the sidewalk, but his wife had come out to help him. He was still ogling Gwen’s bare legs, so he must be okay. Gwen went back inside and searched for her phone in the twisted pile of blankets on the floor. When she found it, she only had one bar.
“Shit,” she said under her breath.
Instead of trying to make a call, she sent texts to brother and her mom to let them know she was okay. Then she pulled on a pair of jeans and stuck the phone in her back pocket, glancing around the room. It looked ransacked, as if she’d been robbed. She didn’t have a landline. Her flatscreen was busted, so she couldn’t turn on the news. A quick flick of the light switch indicated there was no electricity.
Now what?
The internet.
She grabbed the laptop from her messenger bag and booted it up. Although the device didn’t appear damaged, her connection wasn’t working.
Damn.
She gave up on communication and finished getting dressed. After tying back her long black hair, she put on her sturdiest shoes, a pair of vintage combat boots, and grabbed a checkered flannel shirt to cover her arms.
People were injured, maybe dying—and she could help. She’d majored in Health and spent two years in the Peace Corps.
Now she owned a tattoo parlor called Native Ink. Working as a tattoo artist had given her even more medical experience. She had gloves and bandages in her messenger bag. Grabbing it, she headed out into the fray.
Want to read more? Click here. Wild for Him will be released on November 17, 2014.
Excerpt from
BACKWOODS (Aftershock #4)
The more you trust, the more you risk…When plans for a wilderness retreat with her teenage daughter Brooke go awry, Abby Hammond reluctantly pairs up with Brooke’s stepbrother and his dad, Nathan Strom, for the weeklong trek. The only thing Abby has in common with the bad-boy former pro athlete is that their exes cheated with each other. That…and a visceral attraction that’s growing more complicated with every step through the picturesque woods.
Nathan’s wild-card reputation lost him his career and his family. After years of regret, he’s ready to fight for what truly matters—and that includes Abby’s hard-won trust. When Brooke goes missing, Nathan knows he’s her best and only hope of rescue. But the deeper into the rugged mountains they go, the more dangerous the territory will prove—for their safety and for their hearts.
In the following scene, Nathan and Abby get down and dirty in the hot springs after a close call with the bad guys.
EVEN IF ABBY had felt completely safe, giving herself to Nathan would be risky. He wasn’t the type of man she could manage. She couldn’t keep him on a friend shelf or hold him at a distance. If she opened this door, she’d be ceding control. Letting him in. She hadn’t allowed any of the men since Ray to touch anything but her body.
Nathan would take more.
That was part of his appeal, if she was being honest with herself. She needed human contact and an emotional response. Just this once. The hurt that might come later didn’t matter. Right now, she had to feel pleasure.
She didn’t care how foolish her decision was. They were alive. Their children were alive. He wanted her, judging by the erection straining his boxer shorts. He’d become aroused just by looking at her. That was a powerful draw.
She studied him from beneath lowered lashes as she came forward. The moonlight was muted by mist, giving the night a grainy, grayish cast. Steam from the tub rose up in foggy wisps and a fine sheen coated his skin, like sweat. His jaw was taut, his eyes half-lidded. He wiped his face again, his biceps flexing.
Her gaze trailed down his lightly furred chest and hard stomach. His upper thighs were heavy with muscle, a shade paler than his hair-dusted calves. The contrast struck her as absurdly sexy. She imagined pressing her lips to him, dragging down the waistband of his boxer shorts to take him in her mouth.
As she stood before him, her pulse racing, his eyes skimmed her breasts and the wet fabric between her legs. Her flesh tingled at his perusal, her nipples tightening. Although her invitation had to be obvious, his fists stayed clenched at his sides. He seemed reluctant to stare at her body, let alone touch it. Maybe he was worried about taking advantage of her precarious mental state.
She turned around, presenting him with her disheveled hair. “Can you help me?” she asked over her shoulder. She’d tried to comb her fingers through the tangled strands, but they were full of leaves.
He didn’t respond right away. She could feel heat coming off him in waves. Her white panties were so transparent she might as well have been naked. She indulged in a vivid fantasy of him tearing the lace and bending her over the tub.
Instead of doing what they both wanted, he removed the debris from her hair. When he tugged on a stubborn knot, she swayed towards him. Her bottom brushed his crotch. Making a strangled sound, he locked his arm around her waist and urged her down on his lap. He was rock-hard, throbbing against her.
Abby’s pulse raced with excitement as he swept her hair aside and placed his mouth on the tender skin at the nape of her neck. Kissing her there, he moved his hands to the front of her body. One cupped her breast. The other slid between her legs.
God. Three seconds in and he was already on third base.
“I want you,” he panted against her neck. His fingertips rubbed the soaked fabric at the apex of her thighs, wrenching a groan from her lips. She was swollen and sensitive, already aching for him.
“I can tell,” she said, her voice hoarse. Once again, she thought of him stripping off her panties and taking her from behind. That was another intimacy she hadn’t shared since Ray. Catching him with Lydia that way had soured her to the position.
“We shouldn’t…”
Abby knew all of the reasons they shouldn’t, and she didn’t want to hear them. Turning in his arms, she removed her wet tank top, exposing her breasts. He was a man, and therefore susceptible. When he saw her naked flesh, his eyes darkened and his mouth went slack. Resistance was futile.
She twined her arms around his neck. Her breasts plumped against the hard wall of his chest, making her shiver. She flattened her palm on his cheek and brought her lips close to his. They were both shaking with need. His erection nudged her belly. Her fingertips pressed into his shadowed jaw. Their ragged breaths mingled. When their mouths met, it was like a flash of lig
htning. She’d never felt anything so raw and sexually charged. Once he decided to go for it, he really went for it. His kiss wasn’t gentle. He was hungry and demanding, taking full possession of her mouth. His tongue plunged in and out, delving deep.
He groped her bottom with big hands. She squirmed against him, kissing him back with enthusiasm. Desperate to get him inside her. His fingertips slipped beneath the waistband of her panties and between her cheeks, touching a base no other man had ever been on with her. She went still, bracing her palms on his chest.
He stopped kissing her. His hand froze.
Her lips tingled with sensation and a heavy beat pulsed between her legs. She wasn’t pushing him away or saying no. She was so turned on, she wouldn’t deny him anything. Her body was his for the taking.
Instead of continuing into uncharted territories, he removed his hand from her panties and peeled the wet fabric down her hips. When she was completely nude, he stared at her for several seconds. Then he molded his hand to the back of her neck and brought her forward, kissing her mouth again and again.
Abby lost track of everything after that. Drunk with desire, she focused on him. His mouth, his hands, his hair-roughened skin. Nothing existed except this pool and this moment. She was pliant in his arms. He cupped her breasts, squeezing her stiff nipples. They were sensitive, but she preferred more pressure, even pinching when she was near climax. He had no trouble finding the perfect balance. His hand slid between her legs again, strumming her cleft with his fingertips. By the time he set her on the side of the tub and pushed her thighs apart, she was melting for him.
He kissed his way down her quivering belly. Normally she was shy about oral sex, more comfortable giving than receiving with a new partner. With Nathan, she seemed to have no inhibitions. She vibrated at his touch, taut as a bowstring.
When his mouth closed over her clitoris, sucking gently, she groaned. It was so good, she wanted it to last and last. She lay back against the cool rock and gripped the side of the tub, watching him work. Rain drizzled down on her like a caress, collecting in beads on her skin. He flicked his tongue over her clit and circled it lazily, in no particular rush. The orgasm built to a spectacular crescendo. She clutched his hair and cried out, bucking against his mouth as waves of pleasure washed over her.
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