What kind of hero makes you melt?
Do you like the quiet, sensitive type, like the hero in Soft Sounds of Pleasure, Colton De Marco?
(excerpt)
Colton stood frozen just inside Lila's garage, his eyes riveted on her gesture. It was like she'd stepped out of his head. She was dressed the same. Even her hair was the same, flowing out the back of a baseball cap, the same jail-break tendrils cuddling her face. The only difference he could see was that this time, when she raised the shirttail to her face, the two items making his cock hard were the adorable dimples just above her ass.
He wanted to swirl his tongue around those little dips.
He wanted to hold her till she cried her last tear.
He wanted to make her laugh.
He wanted her.
He gripped the potted orchid in his hand and adjusted his damn jeans. His movement finally caught her attention, because she dropped the shirt and glanced over her shoulder.
He smiled as she stepped to the radio and reached to turn the volume down. "Is that for me?" she asked.
Having Lila smile back at him was like basking in sunshine after a cold rain. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. "My way of saying thanks. Well, this and lunch, because if you're not busy, I'm going to insist."
Or perhaps you're more drawn to Colton's older and more dominant brother, Daniel, the hero in my upcoming release, Wildly Inappropriate? (unedited excerpt)
"Last year Brian sent six skinny bleached blondes in bikinis. They were supposed to wash our trucks, I guess, but ended up washing each other." Some emotion flashed in his eyes. She thought it might've been scorn. "One of 'em wrote Brian's offer in shoe polish on my windshield." His expression became stern. "Getting those six back into that van was like herding wet cats. Two female customers who had their vehicles up on lifts and couldn't leave haven't been back to the shop since. Now, he's sent you. Why am I finding it so hard to throw you out?"
Cynda had no idea how to respond. The stinging handprints on her butt were warning enough not to think out loud.
"So, I hope like hell Brian picked your outfit and not you. It won't matter, really, because if you want to go through with this, I'll be choosing your clothes." He shoved his fingers through his hair, whirling away to begin pacing back and forth. "What's your name?"
The soft feeling his comment about her hair had induced evaporated with his insult, but she answered his question. "Cynda Avery."
He continued talking, his long legs eating up the distance between the back door and the table where she sat. His pacing made her think he was the one on a chain, but that made no sense. "I'm not going to put my cock in you, Cynda, but if you'll allow me the privilege, I want to make you come. Look at this as an exercise in trust. And to see if we're compatible, before we discuss anything else."
This white boy is nuts. Cute as hell, but crazier than a bedbug. She laughed harshly, so off-balance by his odd assortment of declarations she forgot she wasn't supposed to speak. "Yeah? And what's in that for you?"
"I'm a man who likes to take control, Cynda, but I don't object to proving I deserve to be in control of a woman's body."
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