Bunny Hop into the arms of Duncan McAlister

Welcome to the Bunny Hop Blog Tour! Find and collect all the Bunny Hop 'egg' words in each blog and at the end of the blog send an email to dawne.prochilo@yahoo.com with ALL the words for your chance to be in a drawing for fabulous and erotic romance ebooks plus a special grand prize of an autographed copy of Tormented Soul along with a beaded bookmark.

I'd like to introduce you to Duncan (Phillips) McAlister. A super hunk you'll meet in Tormented Soul and learn more about him in the not-yet-released Fortunate Soul.



Duncan Phillips never knew his father and was raised by his mom until she died of cancer when he was a teen. Not having anywhere to go, he lived on the streets of London working for a bicycle courier service. Wanting a better life than what he had living with drugged out punks, he made the decision to work towards purchasing a motorcycle so he could advance in the courier business, finish school and possibly have a "normal" life.

Unfortunately,time wasn’t on his side and he when needed to purchase his future fast,Duncan turned back to the streets and sold his body to make money to buy the bike he needed. Out of desperation he trusted the wrong woman who used him for her own sick amusement, leaving behind both physical and emotional scars.


Due to a fortunate turn of events, Duncan had his dream motorcycle, family he never knew about found him, became a member of the McAlister clan, and graduated from a New York university.

Yet, a darkness remains. Knowing how to use his body to seduce women, he vowed to never let a woman control him. He avoids relationships of any kind with the exception of his two biking best friends Chet Keller and Maxine "Max" Duval.

Women can’t resist his sexual aura and Duncan is puzzled why only Max seems oblivious to his proactive charms.




He's over six feet tall, lean but solid. A few scars across his body from past... uh....sexual encounters simply add to his seductive nature.

















Duncan's blond hair is worn long and his green eyes can melt the clothes off any woman.

Duncan is now a wealthy, educated young man who drips of sensuality and is very much in control of his life. He knows egg-actly what he wants.

However, the current love of his life is his motorcycle (or not).

Free E-book Sample of Tormented Soul.

Purchase Tormented Soul, the book Duncan makes his first appearance.

Now hop, bump, grind, rub...do whatever you have to do to meet the rest of our scrumptious men



Visit the other Naughty Authors


Savannah Kougar

Dawne Prochilo

Madelyn Ford

Gem Sivad

Elise Hepner

Chloe Waits

Becca Simone

Jeanne St James

A writer pal of mine has a new release today. Check it out. Trust me... this is hawt!

‘Cheyenne’ is every man’s fantasy—over the phone. Playing the popular fantasy mate, Cynthia Stewart seduces callers nightly, despite swearing off men in real life. Cynthia’s heart and libido are simply on the shelf. Separated and struggling to reclaim her career, all this talk about fantasies has little effect on her.
Until Cynthia meets a man who wants to know hers. All of them. Opening up her private thoughts is a big step for Cynthia. Yet she can’t resist the man who describes himself like the perfect tall, dark, handsome stranger. And his calls slowly push her personal and sexual boundaries open. But Cynthia starts to wonders if this is someone she can truly trust. Because she has been giving him the blue print to seduce her for real...

EXCERPT

Getting into character Cynthia answered breathily, “Hello, this is Cheyenne.”

“Cheyenne,” the voice drew out the word as though savoring the sound. “That is such a pretty name.” The deep masculine tones were authoritative. “But, I would rather know your real name. I am sure it’s even better.”

This man wasn’t a fool. Unlike most men, he knew she gave him a stage name. Rather than denying the truth, she said smoothly, “How about you call me Cheyenne?”

“My name is Mark, Cheyenne. I am six-foot-two, well-built. Dark eyes and dark hair. Living and working in the downtown core.”

This call was really shaping up to be different. Usually they only wanted to hear about her looks. He actually wanted to participate, to be let in on the fun.

“Sounds yummy. I am a strawberry blonde with very long hair. Blue eyes, five-foot-five, curvy and tanned.” And I wear a bunny tail, too. She smirked to herself.

He chuckled. “That sounds like a playboy spread. I have a little more sophisticated taste. What would I have to do to get a real description?”

Her heart started to race. She got a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Yup, there wasn’t much of a bounce to this plain bunny.

“Okay, maybe you’ll give me a different description when you get to know me better. I would like us to know each other very well.”

In spite of herself Cynthia felt intrigued. She purred, “I would like to learn all about you Mark, like what turns you on.”

“Cheyenne, I would really love you to tell me what turns you on. I don’t want to hear just what you think I want to hear from you. This isn’t about what I want.”

Knocked out of her canned responses, Cynthia was speechless. Maybe someone should pay this guy to talk on the phone.

“Do you like to be made love to slowly, or fast, and urgent? Do you dream of someone who knows your desires? The true ones. Tell me.” She heard the soft seductive command in his voice. “Cheyenne, have you ever had a man that knew your wants intimately? That knew your true fantasies?”

Cynthia couldn’t block out the flood of erotic images that went through her head.

“No.”

The acknowledgement came out almost as a whisper before she could stop herself.

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Tempting Tuesday - Lonely Soul excerpt 2

TEMPTING TUESDAY


Michael and his two closest friends went to lunch together
every Tuesday and Wednesday when they worked together in the
Graphic Arts building. The three had met during the internship
phase of their careers. At the time, Tommy and Matt had been
surprised to discover their new friend was the future owner of
McAlister Enterprises. The young men spent a lot of time together
womanizing when they weren’t biking, bungee jumping, skydiving,
and any extreme sport they could find or just relaxing at his cabin.
Michael valued his friends because they saw him for who he really
was, just a simple guy who liked to have fun, then hang out in a log
cabin on a lake.

“I’m so hungry my stomach is going to start digesting itself,”
Tommy complained as he opened the menu.

Tommy Harris was the shortest of the three in stature, but
he had the personality to match his reddish-blonde curls. His wild
hair, tattooed leg and style of dress he chose when he wasn’t
working, gave him the look of a professional skateboarder instead of
a graphic artist.

“I think I’m going to get the brontosaurus burger,” Matt
joked as he tossed the menu aside without looking at it. “With lots
of grease.”

Matt Keller was from northern Minnesota and fell victim to
Michael’s teasing because of his slight accent. He was a tall man
with dark brown hair and always looked as if he just climbed out of
bed, which many times was just the case. Being somewhat vain, he
only wore his glasses for reading and not many even knew he had
them. His way with the ladies was sometimes ruthless because he
could drop the clothes off any woman with his obnoxious charm.

“If you get a burger, you might have to warsh your face,”
Michael imitated one of the many words his friend pronounced
differently.

Matt flipped him the finger.

After they placed their orders they chatted quietly about a
project at work until Michael heard a familiar laugh coming from
behind the curtain that separated the booths. His friends obviously
recognized it also and looked at him in silence.

It was his girlfriend, Colleen Chandler and a friend. With a
wicked grin, he held up a finger to his lips and they listened to the
conversation.

“How can you be so sure he’s going to ask you to marry
him?” The friend asked.

“I found a ring box in his coat pocket last night,” Colleen’s
voice carried.

“I can’t believe it. You went through his coat?”

“Well, yeah.”

“What about John Lawrence?”

Michael listened intensely as their food was delivered.
Tommy and Matt sat mute, eavesdropping as well. He knew there
was something wrong with his relationship with Colleen and now he
was getting an earful. This was going to be better than dinner
theater, he thought.

“I’ve been playing with both of them long enough to see
which has more to offer. Oh, he’ll cry in his brandy for a bit, then
move on.”

“So you’d choose Michael over John. Doesn’t the Lawrence
family have more money?”

“They have old money. I’m not sure how much control John
actually has.” Colleen paused. “Besides, Michael has the better
package.”

Tommy spit his drink out; Matt stuffed his napkin in his
mouth to suffocate his laugh. Michael tried to hold back a smile as
he playfully smacked them.

“He’s that good?”

“The best,” Colleen purred. “Any time, anywhere, any way.
Hmm. He knows exactly how I like it.”

Matt and Tommy rolled their eyes, pretended to fan
themselves and slid in their chairs almost going under the table.
Michael covered his face with his hands, embarrassed at both his
friends’ behavior and the subject matter.

“I have a lot to change in that man; he’s a gem but a bit
rough around the edges.” Colleen spoke matter of factly.

“Oh, kind of like the pool boy with a big bank account.”

“Exactly. I think with a little persuasion, I could make a
social star of him. The newspapers already love him with his model
looks and large bank account.” Colleen paused. “Oh, look at the
time, we better get going.”

The three men immersed themselves into their meals and
acted oblivious to the women who stepped near the table. Tommy
stuffed a large piece of food into his mouth. Matt lifted his drink to
his lips. Mike simply hoped the ladies wouldn’t notice the three of
them at all, but they did.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the three musketeers out on a lunch
date.” Colleen stood with one hand on her hip and flipped her hair
with her other. “Do you want me to have the waitress bring extra
napkins over for your pets, Michael?”

“Hello, Colleen. Aren’t you lovely today?” Matt said in a
sultry voice. “Did you have a make over or did you just wake up
ugly?”

Colleen gave him a sneer before turning her attention to
Michael.

“How long have you been here?” She asked.

“Long enough.”

“Are we still on for tonight?”

“How about lobster?” He looked up at her with a smile.

“Sure. I’ll see you later.”

She bent and kissed him on the cheek. As she walked away,
Matt and Tommy pretended to be gagging. Michael waited
patiently until their theatrics were done. He tried to hold back a grin.

“You’re still going out with her right after you heard her
admit she’s sleeping with another guy?” Tommy didn’t hide his
surprise.

“Wait a minute, he’s up to something,” Matt hit him with his
elbow. “Lobster, eh?”

“Yep,” Michael grinned, “at Ralph’s Lobster Shack.”

“Great! The best dumpy lobster kitchen in town.” Tommy
wiped his hands with a napkin, “What time do you want us there?”

His friends erupted into laughter. Within moments he had
formulated a plan to break up with Colleen. It was going to be too
easy.

“So Matt,” Michael decided to change the subject. “I tried
calling you last night and got your answering service. What were
you up to?”

“Nothing much.” He munched on his burger. “Just grudge
fucked my ex-girlfriend’s best friend.”

“What?” Tommy yelled. “I thought you were mad at both of
them.”

“Yeah, I was.”

“Are you going to see her again?” Michael tried not to laugh.

“No, are you kidding? But I feel much better,” he spoke
calmly. “I suggest you try it sometime, Mikey. Hey, are you going to eat that pickle?”


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Excerpt Monday - Painted Soul

Once a month, a bunch of authors get together and post excerpts from published books, contracted work or works in progress, and link to each other. You don’t have to be published to participate–just a writer with an excerpt you’d like to share. For more info on how to participate, head over to the Excerpt Monday site! or click on the banner above.


Excerpt from Painted Soul

Puzzola with his usual cool exterior was outside leaning against the wall when the brothers exited Elizabeth’s gallery. The flash of lightening and rumble of thunder reflected the storms churning inside him. He was balancing on a thin line. The plan was in motion.

“I’m trusting you with my sister, friend,” Michael said, meeting Puzzola with a cold stare as lightening flashed again in the distance.

Erick palmed a key to the dark figure, “Oh, she’s mad at us!” Then he leaned closer to whisper, “Good luck.”

Puzzola nodded to his friends before slipping inside. The plan called for elevating Elizabeth’s emotions to the same level she had experienced that memorable night while dancing in The Place. Tonight they would finish what they started, both releasing years of pent up emotion. The lightning lit up the empty gallery showing him the stairs, but he could not miss the mind-blowing music full of hard driving guitar riffs and unbelievable energy. From personal experience, he knew Elizabeth was on an escapist trip. Drugs or alcohol could never take a person close to the trip an artist takes while working intensely on a piece. Pausing at the top stair, he tried to slow down his breathing.

Slowly, he peered into the studio like a peeping Tom, but wasn’t prepared for the sight. With her hair flowing freely over her shoulders Elizabeth danced in the candlelight holding a paintbrush and wearing only a thin camisole and thong panties. She raised her arms over her head in a graceful gesture swaying her hips to the sexual groove blasting from the speakers. Her smell filled his nostrils, his hunger for her intensifying as he struggled for control.

Elizabeth was definitely caught up in the mood of the candles, music and emotion. When she finally turned and saw him standing in the doorway, she stopped dancing, still holding her paintbrush. Puzzola met her gaze, smiled as he shrugged his shoulders and boldly stepped into the room. Sexual tension in the air was thicker than the paint on the pallet.

“Hello, my lady,” his voice thick and sensual.

She stood breathless, still in shock. Here he was, in her studio. “How did you get in here?”

“Someone thought I might need this,” he placed a key on a table. “I wanted to thank you personally for coming to my opening. But I’m sorry if you found some of my work disturbing.”

“You were there.”

“Yes. I enjoy listening to my work being analyzed,” he moved effortlessly around the room sending her sultry glances. “It’s a fun little game I play with my critics.”

“I’m sure Painted Soul will get you committed.”

“Committed to whom?”

He was the most delicious man she had ever seen. Taller than she remembered and more masculine than the clean cut punk with two-tone hair she met so long ago. Yet he still held a mysterious power over her. In his black clothing, he moved like a panther. She shivered thinking of the image in “Painted Soul.”

“Nice work,” he complimented as he looked at the painting. His eyes momentarily narrowed then flashed back to Elizabeth.

Puzzola held out a hand to her, she saw the scar across his palm and the gold band on his thumb. Her heart pounding, she touched it. Upon her hand, she wore a thumb ring she purchased shortly after meeting him. Puzzola rubbed his thumb against hers with a slow stroking motion. Cat-like he moved until they touched palm to palm and stood chest to chest, staring into each other’s eyes. Elizabeth’s heart pounded to the beat of the provocative music. Emotions and memories filled her mind. She wanted him more than ever.

“Do you want me to be here, Elizabeth?” Puzzola asked in a husky voice.

In a daring move, she touched his check remembering the two black painted stripes long gone, then traced his jaw line with her fingertips. Her throat felt dry, as she caressed the face that haunted her dreams. She couldn’t believe he was real, but she could feel his heat. Elizabeth saw the raw hunger in his eyes reflecting what she felt.

“Yes,” she answered with little more than a whisper, “very much.”

Like the lightening outside, Puzzola quickly moved her into his arms and pressed hard against her. His carefully planned night was unraveling, he was losing composure. His emotions were taking control. He had to devour his ravishing tormentor and make the pain inside his soul subside. She would be his, tonight.

“I have made time stop for us tonight. You will not get away from me this time,” he whispered in her ear. He felt her melt into his arms as his body gyrated against hers in time with the music. “Welcome to our fantasy. Open your mind let your wishes come true. I am here, Elizabeth, flesh and blood to set you free. I will be whatever you want me to be. I am all your dreams and your worst nightmare in one. Release me only when you are ready to begin your reverie.”

Elizabeth pressed against him, tilted her head back with closed eyes as a small moan escaped from her lips. Her body begged to be touched, to feel the burn. She needed him to wipe away those lost years without him. He cupped her face with his fiery hands, forcing her eyes to open. His eyes burned into her then they rolled back when she ran her hands across his torso and along his sides, feeling the sculpted muscles beneath the silk fabric of his shirt. She could hear his struggled breathing and feel his rapid heartbeat. Pleased with her affect on him, she continued her movements.

His eyes opened as he caressed her throat with his fingers and brought his hand down her chest across her breast. Elizabeth thought her heart would leap out of her chest when his hand stroked her body as if inspecting, then finally resting on the small of her back. His other hand slid behind her head. A soft purr escaped from her as he tangled his fingers in her hair. Elizabeth closed her eyes, breathing hard, tipped her head back desirous for a kiss.

Pulling her close Puzzola nuzzled her check, “You have haunted my dreams. I can not believe I am finally holding my specter. I have wanted you so long.”

His mouth came down on hers in desperate need. Heat churned inside her as she answered back with the same desperation. Flames of passion and desire spread to inferno.

“Dream lover,” she touched his check and he turned his face to place a kiss in her palm, “take me where I want to be.”

Hearing the repeated promise of long ago, Puzzola smiled, “Oh, my lady.”

Lightening flashed, thunder rolled and rain began to pound on the roof. The music, the candles, Puzzola lost all control as the need to be released from the burning desire peaked. In a swift movement he pulled the camisole off Elizabeth’s body, exposing soft round breasts to the glowing candlelight. He picked her up with his hands under her, pushed her back against a wall and covered her neck with fervent kisses. She gasped and arched against him as he sucked a sensitive nipple into his mouth. Puzzola groaned as she ran her fingers through his hair. He took her mouth in a deep, possessive kiss as he pulled off her panties. The kiss stopped when they both were breathless. Looking into her eyes, he was lost.

“You are so beautiful, my lady,” he murmured, “I want to taste your sweetness.”

“Puzzola,” Elizabeth whimpered as she placed a hand on his face.

“I am here,” he said as he trailed kisses down her neck.

He buried his face into the softness of her chest, his tongue flicked at her nipples and traveled down across her flat belly. He dropped to one knee, cupped her butt and moved her legs over his shoulders.

Elizabeth didn’t pay any notice to the cold wall on her back. The fire within her blazed. Bracing her back on the wall she twisted her fingers in his silky black hair. She was floating in air consumed by the emotions and sensations she was feeling. His touch pushed her higher, she thought she was on her way to heaven. His fingers probed her as his tongue tickled the silken folds, she cried out his name in sheer pleasure.

Not stopping his kisses, he gently moved her legs down and rose while she tugged at the stays of his pants. Elizabeth was amused when she found there was nothing between this man and his leather pants as she reached to release his throbbing manhood. His pulsating erection felt like velvet in her hands. Puzzola’s tremble and muffled groan told her of his struggle.

He leaned forward with both hands on the wall as she touched him. With the next clap of thunder he reached under her butt and roughly lifted Elizabeth and braced her against the wall. He had to become one with her. Elizabeth cried out in pleasurable surprise as he thrust inside her. Puzzola paused for a moment to allow her to become accustomed to him, but when he felt her muscles milking him, he couldn’t hold back any longer. With vicious ferocity he pushed Elizabeth to cry out in ecstasy before he exploded inside her.

Still inside her, holding her tightly he slid to his knees. The burning need did not decrease, his pulse continued to race.

He let out a shaken laugh, “Erick said you would bring me to my knees.”

“I’m not through with you yet,” Elizabeth felt a surge of newfound energy. Standing, she tugged hard at Puzzola’s shirt, buttons flying in all directions while nibbling on his ear.

She couldn’t help but stare at him once he had shed the rest of his clothing. His sculpted body called to her touch. The Painted Soul towered over her, his chest wet with sweat, all muscles tense and hard from their last workout. His black hair fell over his forehead and into his eyes. He flashed a lusty smile at her.

Elizabeth remembered the night they met and the way he smiled when she was caught staring at him. This time she kissed the lips beckoning to her, showing him her flaming passion. Her tongue stroked his, her teeth tugged at his lower lip. Feeling daring and wanting more, she became more adventurous.

“Let’s make a fantasy real,” she taunted as she kicked a large roll of canvas into unraveling across the studio floor. Elizabeth took Puzzola by the hand and led him to the center. His eyes glimmered with recognition of her plan.

“I hope you’re planning to use acrylic paint on this canvas,” his eyes never leaving her body while his smile only grew larger.

“Certainly,” Elizabeth presented him with a basket full of brightly colored tubes of acrylic paint.

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Excerpt Monday - Painted Soul

Once a month, a bunch of authors get together and post excerpts from published books, contracted work or works in progress, and link to each other. You=2 0don’t have to be published to participate–just an writer with an excerpt you’d like to share. For more info on how to participate, head over to the Excerpt Monday site! or click on the banner above.



Blurb:
Painted Soul is the first book of the Soul Series. A story that takes the reader on a wonderful ride in an artist’s life, through the streets of London, and into the shadows of the underground.

Elizabeth McAlister was only eighteen when she met the art student, Puzzola in a London nightclub and gave him her heart. Ten years later, they meet again when a summer of intense passion and dark secrets begins.
As Elizabeth falls deeper in love with Puzzola, she tries to rescue him from tortured memories he refuses to discuss. Eventually, his double life and erotic past are exposed in a local newspaper just as he is involved in a life-threatening accident.

Painted Soul
Chapter 3

Mrs. Somerby was enjoying lunch with her handsome son, Andrew, in a London cafe. He always admired his mother and how she tried to keep peace between him and his father. With every visit, she’d try to get him to return to Sussex. But he wouldn’t go home until his father accepted him for the man he really was.
“I think you pay your barber too much,” his mother touched his hair, “he never seems to cut anything off.”

“I like it this way,” Andrew frowned and pulled his head away. “Please stop, we’re in public.”

"Oh, I wish you would come home,” she begged.

"Mother, I can’t. The bank keeps me quite busy.”

“I will talk to your father again. I will make him understand how much I miss you.”

“Talking to father won’t change anything.”

“Andrew, I know you weren’t to blame for what happened to your grandparents. It was an accident.”

“Father doesn’t see things as clearly as you do, mother. I can’t believe he’s carried this grudge all these years. They loved me in a way Father never could, and I loved them back. I needed him when they died, but he turned his back on me and placed the blame on my shoulders,” Andrew lamented. “Mother, I was too young to handle such rejection. When Father said I couldn’t paint and took away the funds they left me for art school, it was the final straw. Painting was my deepest connection to my grandparents.”

He sighed, “There is more to our problem than the day of the accident. He just uses that as an excuse. My whole life, Father never praised me for anything I did. I could never manage to be the perfect son for him. I’m a failure. What happened in Italy was only more proof for him, and he wasn’t afraid to let me know that. Now my heart is stone. I go through the motions daily, the dutiful son running his father’s bank. He doesn’t even care about the work I do here. He just keeps me around because he wouldn’t be able to explain to his friends why he sent me away. He doesn’t give a damn about me, and I don’t want to be anywhere near him.”

“Oh, my dear, you are not a failure,” his mother bowed her head. “You know your father is aware of all the fine work you’ve done at the bank.”

“But when I stayed in Italy and didn’t give up school, I lived a life style that could disgrace our family, if anyone ever found out. He won’t let go of that.”

“That’s in the past, leave it alone. You’re living a good life now. You’re a good son.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are. I was just hoping, perhaps you’d come home for a visit. Maybe if you would just talk to each other…”

“The last time Father spoke to me outside of the bank was when he brought me back from Italy. He told me to pull myself together, and forget about what happened. If I do as I’m told, everything would be all right,” he shook his head. “Mother, I was sick when I came back, you knew that! Then I was thrust into the management position at the bank, clueless. It’s amazing I didn’t ruin everything right then."

"The funny thing about this is, while I was gone, he told everyone I was studying business abroad. Oh, I learned business all right, just not the kind you use in a bank! I went from one prison to another.” He grimaced and took a drink, “no matter, time has gone by, but the wounds won’t heal.”

She fumbled nervously with her napkin obviously trying to think of something to say to change his dark mood, “Adeline McAlister’s daughter has moved into Hampton House. She is such a beautiful and charming girl, and I truly enjoy visiting with her.”

“I see what you are up to dear Mother.” Andrew shook his finger at his mother, “Matchmaking won’t work with me.”

"Besides being beautiful, she is a very talented artist, too!” His mother’s face lit up with the turn of the conversation. “She reminds me of her mother, so passionate with everything she does. Why, you should see the beautiful gardens at Hampton House. She steps right in and takes charge, and all the while her staff adores her. Why, you could use a good, stable woman in your life. The way her two brothers cherish her, I don’t think she...Andrew, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Andrew?”

“Elizabeth? Michael and Erick’s sister?” he croaked.

“Yes, dear, you know them so well, I’m surprised you don’t know their sister,” his mother shot him a puzzled look. “Anyhow, I think you should at least be friendly and call upon her. Maybe introduce her to some of your friends. It’s high time you start thinking about love.”

“Love? You are such a romantic, Mother. What happened in Italy took away my ability to love.”

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right woman yet.”

“You think so!” Andrew threw his head back and laughed.

She went on talking about some garden party she was thinking of throwing, but Andrew wasn’t listening. Elizabeth McAlister was the one who haunted his dreams and inspired his art. She was here in England. Why hadn’t Erick mentioned anything? He ran his fingers through his hair, remembering her touch. He still burned for her. His memory served him too well. They were young then, what was she like now as a woman? Could she teach him to love?

Andrew managed to sit through the rest of his meal, than bade his mother good-bye. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts as he walked along the streets of Mayfair. He unlocked the door to the closed gallery, went up the stairs to his studio and checked for messages on his answering machine.

“Hi! This is Reva ringing. Just want to let you know there is a hot, new artist coming from the States. Her name is Elizabeth McAlister. You should check her out. Bye.”

He picked up the phone and quickly dialed Erick’s number. He was full of questions, but a recorded answer was all he received. He had the phone number to Hampton House, but he dared not call it. He slammed the phone down and nervously paced the floor.

The ghost from his dreams was here. He could almost feel the way her body was pressed against his as they shared one last kiss. Andrew remembered the way her hair smelled as he whispered the promise, “Yes, we will meet again.” He remembered how the look on her face expressed what he was feeling inside. He knew the time had come. Her overprotective brothers were allowing fate to step in and let them meet again.

How far were they willing to let things go before friendships would be jeopardized? Under what circumstances would they meet? Would she see him as the artist, the man of his heart? Or would she meet Andrew, the dutiful son, and the stuffy banker? Should he share his dark secret with her? Would his two worlds meet and become one, or would they crash and burn, destroying everyone involved?

“I need to stop thinking!”

He ripped off his tie and his dress shirt, sending buttons flying. To hell with afternoon meetings, his presence wasn’t necessary today. With his pulse racing, he grabbed a paintbrush and pallet. He would put his emotions on the canvas, and then sort them out later. He hoped.



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Note: I have not personally screened these excerpts. Please heed the ratings and be aware that the links may contain material that is not typical of my site.

Guest blogging at Killer Fiction

I'm super excited that I'm guest blogging at Killer Fiction today. *Squee!* I'm honored to be there with such an amazing group for the day. My post is "How to be a Sensual Diva". I talk about how to add sensuality into your characters and your life. Get a notepad ready. LOL

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Review for Lonely Soul

Yeah!!!
Lonely Soul, the third book of the Soul Series, recieved a 4 Smack reveiw from Mistress Bella Reviews. Check it out! Thank you!