Thanksgiving’s just around the corner.
RRP Bestseller Louisiana Hot Sauce
Mainstream Romance: Contemporary, Multicultural
Cover Artist: Missy Lyons
Editor: Jeffrey Curry
Word Count: 101,210
Release Date: March 18, 2010
November Special: Now 10% off @ Red Rose Publishing Code - RedRose10
Thanksgiving’s just around the corner. Will Mesha’s rejection carve the
right out of Jack’s chest?
Find out! Take the thrill ride on the rollercoaster of love.
It’s a yummy read!
Reclusive Mesha Rayburn's safe haven disintegrated when athletic Jack Connolly raced into her life. He was like an uninvited guest to her pity party. Yet, his brashness stoked her dormant emotions and injected spunk into her veins with every bated word. And—calling the cinnamon-skinned Black woman "biggety" didn't help matters.
Mechanic Jack Connolly thought the trip down South to patch up and retrieve the bullet-ridden helicopter would be a pain. He never imagined the rhetoric becoming reality. But, thanks to Mesha's panicked outcry, it had. The pain radiating in his palm bothered him less than the one in his rear. Bold and beautiful, he had to know why she hid out in the boonies. As her transient tenant, he intended to find out at the risk of feeling the sting of her Louisiana Hot Sauce temper.
Scene: Jack discovers a disturbing sight that results in such a volcanic eruption, the noise forces Mesha awake to investigate out of fear for his safety. They collide at the front door as he rams it inward.
Her next step should have brought her nearer to grasping the paper. Instead, she endured an uncomfortable twinge and her ankle gave out.
“OW!” Mesha’s hard bottom-landing—after her unexpected visit to the floor—had her writhing in pain, hands strangling the injured area.
Her soulful moan rocketed Jack to her side, dropping him on all fours. “Let me see,” he soothed, slinging the paper near the door prior to moving her fingers away with a gentle force when she refused to cooperate.
“It’s okay.” She brushed at his hands, wanting to blow where they left his trademark on her skin. There were blatant differences in his touch as her brain warred to separate his from Boone’s. “It’s just an old dancing injury acting up.”
“Sit still, Mesha!” Jack was past polite persuasion.
The hardwood cooled her rear-end as she relaxed back on her arms that angled behind for support, content to let him satisfy his overt display of concern. He probed the tender spot. She flinched. Jack manipulated the foot. Mesha jerked.
He caressed the calf of that leg and applied his brand of medicine—a smoldering touch of his lips to her sore ankle—rising to let his eyes do the talking.
He did for her what she did for Mya. He kissed her boo-boo.
The tide turned and the lava rolled.
First-aid was the objective at the onset. Jack sought to help. To soothe. To offer relief in some way. Why did she have to be so doggone attractive so early in the morning? Legs—smooth, brown, shapely. Body—striking, womanly, voluptuous. He devoured her with his eyes, wallowing in the uncertainty sparking there. She inhaled, a breathy declaration shocking the tomblike silence and confessing knowledge of the renewed awareness flaring between them.
Eyes fastened on his havoc-rendering lips, she swallowed and allowed his trek to continue up her leg where he lingered on the remnants of dark splotches on her skin. He kissed each smudge in his endeavor to erase the ordeal from her memory. Mesha experienced a thrill like no other felt in ages, vacillating between need and want. No self-respecting woman would permit herself to become putty for molding at someone else’s hands. The need to protect that image stayed with her even while her hands developed a will of their own, stroking the hairs on his bent head. Then, there was the other side of the coin. She wanted—badly—what he made readily accessible to her.
Knees nailing the floor, Jack inched a little higher, displacing the hem of the tee that already inched around her thighs. He thought the worst when Mesha grabbed his cheeks in her soft palms. He expected a harsh reprimand as he tentatively looked up at her. That’s not at all what he saw in her mesmerizing eyes. Any miscalculation of her signals doomed the blossoming rapport. That’s why he methodically adjusted his body to take the brunt of her weight as he reclined beside her.
Louisiana Hot Sauce
Sweet, spicy romance—a heartbeat away!
www.mickiesherwood.com/blog This week - Mickie’s Fried Turkey with a Twist
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