I have a new release today! Here’s an excerpt from Three Little Words – available everywhere now!
It’s never too late to make the best impulsive decision of your life.
Jo Masters isn’t the party girl she used to be, but now that she’s a woman without obligations, she’s ready to recapture a little of her misspent youth. Her niece’s wedding, with its open bar and dark dance floor, proves to be the perfect opportunity to let loose.
Gregory Stark is just trying to make it through his son’s wedding day… and make some time with the gorgeous brunette on the bride’s side of the aisle. His kid’s wedding probably isn’t the best occasion to put the moves on the sexy woman, who introduces herself only as ‘Josie’, but his best friend is closing in on her too and he has to act fast. With a couple of tequila shots under his belt, Greg propositions Josie — and neither wants to refuse.
“God, no.” The response was automatic. She hated champagne. Pure desperation forced her to resort to the glass poured for the toasts because the dinner wine was long gone. Now he was offering her more. The sparkling wine seemed an apt choice for him. He looked like Cary Grant, what with the wings of silver in his dark hair, the crinkly brown eyes sparkling with mischief, and the tuxedo. Maybe he was offering her champagne because Cary Grant would offer her champagne. Cary would call her “darling.” Would Gregory Stark call her “darling?”
Something tugged at her fingers. She stared in rapt fascination as he removed the forgotten flute from her hand and placed it on the bar. “Oh. No. No more champagne.” She managed a weak twitch of her lips. “Thank you.”
A proprietary hand landed in the small of her back. Jo surrendered to the gentle pressure, closing her eyes and imagining the pads of his fingers to be electrodes. Sparks sizzled along her spine. He spread his fingers wide as he drew alongside her at the bar. Arousal swept through her like a hot flash. Unlike those endless minutes of core meltdown, this heat wasn’t something to be endured. His touch was a treat to be savored. She opened her eyes and found him staring at her, his lips parted and his eyes shining bright.
“What’ll it be, then?”
“Tequila. Three shots.”
The answer popped out before her brain engaged. It was a ghost from her past. A remnant of the reckless youth she’d left buried under a pile of soul-crushing responsibility.
“Whoa. Three?” He craned his neck and scanned the room. “Maybe I should get one of the younger guys back.”
Once upon a time, three was her magic number. The key to managing everything life had thrown at her. Good and bad. The magic of three stopped being effective not long after she’d turned thirty–a bitter disappointment she’d never managed to reconcile with herself. Turns out, fate had her number in another way.
Well, screw fate. She’d played the good girl long enough. Emboldened by the wine and the heat of his hand scorching her back, she looked him square in the eye. “I have no use for boys, thankyouverymuch. Don’t worry. It’s okay if you can’t keep up. I won’t think less of you.”
He laughed. Not a chuckle or a chortle, but a deep, rumbling, full-throated guffaw that wrapped itself around her and drew her closer still. Or maybe he pulled her in with his hand. Either way, she was within sniffing distance, so she took a hit. Pure man. No flowery cologne masked the warm and musky mix of soap, shaving cream, and some kind of whiskey. Thank God.
“Set ’em up,” he told the bartender.