[BookStrand Contemporary Romance, HEA]
Neal Sinclair meets David Bankston in a college town bar. He’s tall, dark, and handsome, and wears a Stetson like nobody’s business.
When they dance, inner passion heats up while inhibitions melt away. Neal quickly discovers David’s not a Southerner at all. He’s a Boston architect, in Tuscaloosa for only one night. The next morning, they struggle to walk away from something that caught them both by surprise.
Time doesn’t diminish the ache they feel in each other’s absence. Unable to stay apart, David arranges to take Neal to watch her beloved Crimson Tide play in a football bowl game. Reunited, they’re determined to make it work. When separated, they perfect the art of open communication. They each know that true love is a long shot.
But distance isn’t the only thing standing in their way. Unbeknownst to her, Neal’s overprotective father is, too. With so much conspiring against them, can a natural disaster turn the odds in their favor?
Note: This book contains adult language used as profanity.
A BookStrand Mainstream Romance
David and Neal walked into the Grand Bohemian Hotel lobby and went straight to the club, still in full swing celebration mode even though the clock had already struck midnight. They managed to find two spots at the end of the bar, and huddled close together to talk over the music. It had been a cold night, and after spending so much time outside, they were both chilled to the bone. The bartender approached them to take their order.
David looked to her to see what she wanted.
“You order for me,” she suggested and turned her attention to the crowd for a moment of people watching while he rattled off a request. She removed her jacket and draped it over the back of the stool and rubbed her arms vigorously.
By the time she turned back, the bartender was putting two shot glasses down, filled with amber liquid. On a saucer were orange slices and a mound of reddish brown powder. A small spoon rested on the edge of the plate.
“What’s this?” she asked curiously.
“Do you do tequila shots?”
“Never have before.”
“Then you’re in for a treat. This is a slightly different recipe from the traditional salt and lime. I think you’ll like it.”
“How do you do it?” She looked at the three separate ingredients and wondered if there was a method to the madness.
“I’ll show you how I’m going to do it. May I have your hand, please?”
He held his palm out and she placed her hand in it. He turned it over, so the underside was exposed, and then he kissed it open mouthed. Neal watched him run his tongue over her skin, making it glisten with saliva. Then he sprinkled a generous amount of cinnamon over the slick spot. He picked up the whiskey and held it in one hand then dipped his mouth to suck her wrist. She felt him lick softly over her skin, and the fire started to burn inside her. He sat up and raised an eyebrow at her as he quickly consumed the liquid and then he sucked on the wedge to drain the juice out of the citrusy pulp.
“Damn, that’s hot.” She could already feel the rush of moisture to her sexual center, and crossed her legs.
David’s expression was lustful as the rush of alcohol began to take effect. “Your turn.”
He reached for her wrist, but she quickly jerked it back from him.
“No way, Cowboy,” she admonished him. “I’m doing it like you showed me.”
She reached out for his hand. When he extended it to her, she pushed up his sweater, then unbuttoned his shirt sleeve and rolled it up to get it out of the way. She kissed his wrist just below his thumb, and then took her own slow, sweet time to suck it until it was thoroughly wet before applying the aromatic spice. Neal licked the cinnamon, threw back the tequila, and bit the orange wedge that he held out to her. As soon as she swallowed, he covered her mouth with his and plundered it with his tongue.
The room began to spin, but she wasn’t sure if it was the eighty-proof liquor or the intoxicating spell he wove over her just by his presence.
She held on to him and he whispered, “Let’s go upstairs, Neal.”
He tipped the bartender generously, and she clung to him as they headed toward the elevator.
Once inside the room, she joked, “Despite that firewater you convinced me to drink, I still feel a chill. I think I’ll take a hot bath.”
“All right. But kiss me first.”
He pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers. As he deepened the kiss, he ran his hand down her back and over the curve of her hips. When he settled it at the underside of her bottom, he pressed her against his body. She draped her arms over his shoulders and began to play with his hair as she welcomed the invasion of his searching tongue.
Unwilling to be without his company for more time than absolutely necessary, she moved her hands to his chest and began to unbutton his sweater. When it was off, she started on the shirt and pulled her mouth from his.
“Come keep me company.” She invited him to share the bath with her.