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Archive for August, 2013

fdde2-55327_girl-writing_lgHis Betrayal Her Lies

She moved to her dresser, opened the bottle, and rubbed the lotion all over her body, paying special attention to his two favorite places to nibble-her neck and legs. The butterscotch skin, brown eyes, and petite body that were reflected in the mirror as she massaged her legs made her feel extra sexy. She stood and did a little sensual dance as she opened her underwear drawer, selected a striking red lace thong, and slipped it up her legs.

Some teeny devil must have been sitting on her shoulder urging her on. “Yeah, this thong is all the clothes you’re going to need.” She pulled her four-inch red pumps out the closet and slid them on her feet. “Sorry, babies,” she told her aching feet, “but I gotta look good tonight.”

She snatched her wallet out of her purse off the nightstand and her Blackberry off the bed as she walked to the living room closet. Wrapping up in the long, black, fox fur coat would protect her from the chilly November weather.

http://www.bookswelove.net/deAmor.php
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CV7GJ00

Please stop back next week for a few lines from Connie Vines.

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Winter Firefdde2-55327_girl-writing_lg
“Get back!” he shouted. “The ice won’t hold you!”

She whirled around in alarm.

And in that split second, he saw her eyes. Those startled doe’s eyes. Zara Grey!

In the next instant, a crack—like a musket shot—echoed through the ravine. She reeled as the ice heaved up beneath her amid an angry surge of black water. And then, her face frozen in a look of surprise, her mouth open in a semblance of a silent scream, she disappeared through the widening breach.

His gaze fixed on the roiling chasm, Ethan hurled himself down the slope. She surfaced—flailing arms and legs, and gasping desperately for air—churning up the black water into an icy froth. She grasped at the splinters of ice.
“Keep your head up!”

Racing along the bank, he ripped off his deerskin jacket and hurled it, along with his rifle and belt into the snow. If she went under again, she’d be trapped. Already the current had taken her, sweeping her like a bobbing cork toward the opposite bank where the ice was thicker.winterfire200x300

“Keep your head up!”

But the frenzied movement of her arms had slowed. She gasped at the water along with the air. She could barely keep herself afloat. As if she had made a conscious choice to surrender herself to a stronger power, he saw the spirit drain out of her. An eerie calm settled over her eyes as her gaze met his, then she slipped under again without a struggle.

Without stopping to think, Ethan tore off his shirt and moccasins, and dove through the opening.

Buy from Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Winter-Fire-ebook/dp/B004BA5GMM
Visit Kathy’s website: http://www.kfischer-brown.com

Stop back next week for A Few Lines from… Angel de’ Amor

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fdde2-55327_girl-writing_lgBride of the Baja

After a long ride Alitha was untied, pulled down from the horse and carried to a hut, where she was pushed inside and left alone in the darkness. She lay huddled on the ground for a moment listening to the sounds around her-the pounding of the surf, the drunken shouts of the men, the neighing of horses, the barking of dogs.

Coming Soon! Find this title and Jane’s other books at: http://bookswelove.net/janetoombs.php

Please stop back next week for a few lines from Kathy Fischer-Brown.

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fdde2-55327_girl-writing_lgShattered Dreams

Without a glance at the waiting patient, she strode to the counter. The aroma strengthened. Hadn’t been her imagination. She turned her head and stared at the man wearing the green cotton examining gown. She gripped the edge of the counter. Blood rushed from her head. 

“You’re dead.” The words slashed the silence. This couldn’t be happening.

“Hardly.”

The voice sounded like the one from her dreams. She opened her mouth to ask where he’d been and what he’d been doing for the past twelve years. She sucked in a shallow breath. Asking that question would only stir the emotions she had frozen.
 

“Don’t bail on me. Sit down.” 

Her fingers had no feeling. Waves of darkness dimmed her vision. The edge of the counter disappeared. Her knees buckled. Blackness engulfed her.Walters-ShatteredDreams200x300
 
* * *
 
“Manon!” Rafe Marshall leaped from the examining table in time to catch her before she hit the floor. He cradled her against his chest. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispered. Why did she think he was dead? He knew news of his accident had been kept quiet because the police believed he’d been deliberately forced off the road. Who had told her? Had the informant been the driver of the dark car his rescuer had seen speeding from the scene?
 
Find Shattered Dreams here.
 
Janet can be found daily at http://wwweclecticwriter.blogspot.com/
 
 
Stay tuned. Next week Just a Few Lines features Jane Toombs

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fdde2-55327_girl-writing_lgFinding Freedom

CELESTE HARTE GLARED at the twenty-nine candles on her birthday cake. She’d squandered her last fourteen birthday wishes asking for a fairy tale romance, and her life still read like an instruction manual. The frog she’d hoped would turn into a prince-God rest his soul-had been a cheating toad. Leaning her hands on her glass-topped kitchen table, she puffed out her cheeks and blew. I wish I’d meet a man who would turn my life into a sizzling romance novel.

“Easy.” Marianne Joest raised an auburn brow as she swiped cream frosting from her blouse with a manicured nail. Closing her eyes, she sucked her fingertip. “Mm. Next best thing to an orgasm.”clip_image002[2]

“My life is half over, I haven’t made love in I-can’t-remember-when, and you talk about orgasm?”

“Half over?” Marianne snorted. “And I thought Susan was the drama queen.” She cut two slices of cake and handed Celeste one. 

Celeste shook her head. “It’s loaded with fat.”

“Dammit, Cee. This is carrot cake, a vegetable with frosting. You’re thin enough no matter what Harry said, and twenty-nine isn’t the beginning of menopause.”

http://bettyjowrites.com

http://bookswelove.net/bettyjoschuler.php

Stop back next Friday for a few lines from Janet Lane Walters.

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