by Mina Snowe
HEAVEN INSIDE YOU
Erotic Romance
by
Mina Snowe
Copyright © 2011-2012 Mina Snowe.
All Rights Reserved Worldwide.
Kindle Edition
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Book cover design by Ramona Lockwood, romancenovelcenter.com
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. This book cannot be resold as a used file, and that purchase and download is a one-time final use of this product.
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ABOUT THIS BOOK
Olivia Marsden has enjoyed a fulfilling job with a top NYC publishing company, until the sacrifice of talent for the "bottom line" starts to take a toll on her. All she has to look forward to is the daily grind and a lonely evening at home with takeout—until one day, three weeks before her self-centered sister Fiona’s big wedding, she receives a strange phone call from the subject of her darkest, most secret fantasies...
Cole Evans is a high powered corporate lawyer with way too much on his plate. Six months prior to his brother’s tying the knot, he spots the full-figured Olivia Marsden at the engagement party, and from then on, his mind is trained on one thing—possessing the lush temptress who haunts his dreams at night and stokes the flames of his deepest desires.
All it would take is a good plan, an unusual proposal, and a touch of trickery to pull off this game of sizzling seduction…
And in this game, there could be only one winner...their fierce passion for each other.
Praise for this book:
“Be prepared for some graphic language, hot sex scenes and the need for ice water. This was very well written and gracefully fluid.”—Romance Junkies, Blue Ribbon Recommended Read
“To say that the scenes were super-hot and erotic might be an understatement. If you are looking for a quick hot love story then [this] is just the one for you.”—Joyfully Reviewed
“Together Cole and Olivia were scorching hot. … The ending was perfect. … This is an author that I am sure is going to make people sit up and take notice.”—Long and Short Reviews
“The scenes sizzled. This was a great book…”—Fallen Angels Reviews
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title
Dedication
Author Note
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Epilogue
Dedication
To women of all shapes and sizes, everywhere.
Author Note
This book is a slightly revised version of a previously published book under a different pseudonym and publisher—then titled “Mile High to Heaven”.
Any other versions of this book, under this or the old title, are illegal and offered for sale without the author’s consent. Please do not purchase them. Your cooperation and support are appreciated.
Prologue
“No, no, no! No way in hell, girl! And that thing you call a tiara has to go. I’m supposed to look like a princess at my wedding, not the Queen of the carnival floats!” Olivia Marsden’s sister, Fiona, snapped in her native Southern twang. It always sounded more pronounced when she was upset.
Olivia sighed—a loud, pained sigh.
The stylist’s face turned an unflattering blotchy purple, and her naturally bulging eyes looked like they were about to pop out any second.
“And show me those other styles you mentioned last week, will you? I don’t have all damn day. Get a move on, honey!”
The poor girl’s demeanor graduated from scared to terrified. Her hands shook as she removed the zillions of pins from Fiona’s silky dark blonde hair.
Fiona huffed and set her pretty red lips in a pout.
Olivia thought it was time to make an intervention. She knew that look, and she was in no mood to face one of her sister’s legendary tantrums.
“Just be patient, Fi. You’ve only been here a little over an hour. I’m sure Lee will come up with something spectacular. Mrs. Montgomery did tell you she’s the best hair stylist they have at the moment.” Fiona tsked. “And she was accommodating enough to come to your home, after all,” Olivia finished, undeterred.
She shot Lee an apologetic glance, while Fiona flicked a perfectly manicured hand in a gesture of dignified irritation.
“About time. I’m not paying her boss all this money so she can send over girls who can’t make me look better than a cheap ass whore!”
Olivia bit her tongue and failed to comment that Fiona wasn’t paying any money at all. Chad—her ever generous fiancé—was financing the whole wedding, from the magnificent Spanish villa he’d rented for the ceremony and reception to the tiny flowers in the bridesmaids’ hair to the exclusive honeymoon in the Seychelles. He catered to all her whims. Perhaps he’d seen a glimpse of her temper and figured he’d rather be abducted by aliens and submit to extreme torture than be the recipient of her sharp tongued diatribes.
This little scene somewhat reminded Olivia of what her best friend Lisa had said a few months back after she—with genuine, albeit completely misguided, intentions—offered to change her baby Annabelle’s diaper, which of course resulted in the obvious dramatic effects: “It’s pretty hard to believe that such vile odors could come out of something so dainty and adorable, isn’t it?”
Ditto.
Fiona was usually cool and composed, but when she had her moments…well, nobody wanted to be around her when she did have those moments. Which was probably why people were always trying to make her happy, to give her all she asked for and present it to her on a silver platter. Better to be safe than sorry. Fiona was a spoiled brat with a flair for drama. Annabelle, with all her baby drama, couldn’t hold a candle to her.
“I do love the dress, of course. That was after they had resolved the annoying issue with the beading. I had told them I would only consider Swarovski crystals and couldn’t believe they had the nerve to show me that tawdry combination with the little seed pearls and the ruffle on the sleeve. I had specifically told them to use Spanish lace and crystals. I—”
“Well, that’s all been fixed, so there’s no need to dwell on it any longer.”
“Liv, I tell you. Thank GOD you’re not the one getting married. There were moments I thought I was positively going to have a nervous breakdown! Sometimes I wish I could do away with men altogether, even my dearest Chad. You’re so lucky you don’t have that problem, you’ll never know.”
Olivia flinched inwardly. Fiona was like that. And she wouldn’t even be aware how much her hurtful words stung. In the mirror, she caught the image of Lee blushing furiously while she continued working with Fiona’s hair.
“You’ve always been the pretty one, Fi. I suppose you just have to live with it,” she rasped, certain that Fiona wouldn’t catch the sarcasm in her voice.
“Don’t I know it, dear.”
Fiona looked up at the mirror and gave a small startled sound at s
eeing Lee’s latest creation.
“Well now, that’s more like it.”
Olivia gave silent thanks.
“You look beautiful, Fi. Nobody will be able to take their eyes off you.”
Fiona nodded in agreement but made no comment. She was used to the constant attention and took it for granted. She’d be the star of the show—that was how it always was and how it always would be. Her wedding was no different. She’d sparkle even more, naturally.
“So…your bridesmaid’s dress seems to be all done, too, Liv. That shade of green’s quite flattering on you. I’m happy that the cut makes you look a little slimmer. It wouldn’t do if it didn’t, you know. Not at my wedding. I’ll let you go and pack now. And lay off the chocolate cake, will you? What time is your flight to New York?”
“In four hours,” Olivia replied with a resigned tone, summoning the gods of eternal patience.
“Okay then. I shall see you right before the wedding in four weeks. Don’t be late. You must help me with the dress and dealing with those fools at the catering company. I pray they won’t misplace the foie gras this time. I’ll never forget Margerie Heimann’s expression when she found out. And at her daughter’s coming out dinner party, no less! How embarrassing!”
Fiona was too engrossed in her own reflection in the mirror to notice her sister rolling her eyes.
“Sure, sis. I’ll be seeing you soon.”
Olivia hugged her briefly, threw a bright smile at Lee, drew an inner sigh of relief and went on her merry way.
Chapter One
Four weeks later…
The moment she saw him walking towards her, eating up the floor in languid but confident strides, would be etched in her memory forever. A raw, powerful body, pure sexuality barely contained in a civilized veneer. He was tall. Very, very tall. Huge. A hunk of a man standing give or take six feet five inches tall, graced with long, muscular limbs, broad shoulders and wide chest, not so much as an ounce of fat. She’d imagined that guy in her daydreams but to date hadn’t laid eyes on the real prototype. Gorgeous. She felt like a dwarf standing next to him, and, at five foot nine, she was no midget.
She was hopelessly entranced. The ruggedly handsome face was set with a swarthy complexion and deep, dark as night, mesmeric eyes that settled on her with focused interest. His gaze never wavered, as if she were the only woman standing in the middle of JFK with eyes as round as saucers and an odd expression of near disbelief. His lips curled in a half-smile. Perhaps he was a mind reader too, as well as a sorcerer.
She loved that smile. That smile was for her alone. Her insides were tied in a knot so tight, a seasoned sailor would be proud.
Her lips and throat went completely dry, and she lost the ability to blink. As he came closer, she noticed that his windswept hair was the color of a starless night, cut quite close to his head and curling slightly at the ends. Those expressive eyes, she could now see, were really pools of a dark stormy blue with flecks of gray.
She found it hard to tear her gaze away from his face, but she finally did. The rest of him was a sight to behold. Strong, muscular thighs and lean hips were snugly encased in a pair of well-worn jeans. A simple black t-shirt and tan suede jacket covered his massive chest and biceps, and his forearms and hands were so beautifully formed and veined that she had no difficulty imagining him on a fantasy battlefield, playing the role of a Viking warrior from days of old.
He turned around, slightly distracted, after hearing someone call out behind him. That tight muscular butt…sweet heaven!!! In total disbelief, she pinched herself. Ouch!
Is this man flying with me?
Her throat went suddenly dry.
“So we finally meet, Olivia,” he spoke, in a deep tone that roused all manner of carnal pleasures. He widened his smile while his eyes twinkled in…was it a hint of mischief? Dark stubble had started to show beneath his skin—surely not day old. This man was all testosterone; nothing about him spelled “ordinary.” Yet his expression, surprisingly, was open, even hinting at an underlying tenderness.
She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting since she had first spoken to him on the phone three weeks earlier. In the days that followed that initial conversation, she hadn’t been able to prevent herself from dreaming about that sexy deep voice coaxing her, beckoning her, compelling her to submit to a gut-wrenching passion. She’d lie in a sensual haze until the wee hours of the morning, so wet and hot she’d barely get any sleep if she didn’t give herself release at least once, sometimes twice.
Perhaps age was driving her to insanity. Or nymphomania. Either way, she was doomed. She had just turned thirty-two, and despite what people always told her about the benefits of maturity, it didn’t appear that life was getting any easier or any less lonely. Oh, she had done well for herself, all right. Proud of her achievements, she never regretted her decisions and always tried to take her disappointments and hurts with a pinch of salt. She loved to make people laugh and make the best out of every situation. She had never been greedy, but now she wanted more—more of whatever she seemed to be missing, whatever had her waking up every morning with a most peculiar sense of loss.
Cole being constantly on her mind, dominating her every thought of the last few days, had driven home the fact that she was tired of being on her own. She wanted to come home to someone who would tease her, tickle her, cuddle her, ask her about her day at work, cherish her, coax her into laughter and finally, make passionate love to her. A man who appreciated her independence and zest for life, as well as her choice of career, which often demanded long hours at the office.
She had her own private space with a door, a secretary, and a window overlooking East 53 Street. On the door hung a sign: Olivia Marsden, Managing Editor.
As a child, she had always been drawn to books, and by the age of twelve she had read most of the classics. Books made her happy. By the time she was old enough to think about making a living, she knew that the only road she’d consider taking involved doing something in the literary field. During her years in college, she took up several internships with literary agents, and after graduation, she finally found her niche at the office of one of New York City’s most respected publishing houses. That had been her time to shine, and it worked. She succeeded in charming them with her wit and nose for talent, and they’d decided to take a chance on her. From then on, it had been a slow but steady climb uphill. Her hard work and dedication had finally paid off when she was placed at the helm of the Erotic Romance department following Helen Sedgewick’s premature retirement two years earlier.
She loved her job. Her job was her life. In fact, she had nothing but her job. Although she didn’t necessarily love the company she was with. Recently, it appeared that talent was made to take the back seat more and more when it came to making business decisions. She was quite weary of having to “crunch the numbers,” and her instinct sometimes wasn’t enough to convince the powers that be to go with a particular hunch, that the money would come if only they would believe in her vision. All they wanted to know was whether a book would sell, and they were increasingly hesitant to take risks in the process. They kept telling her she had to stick to the “formula” and let go of everything else. Yeah, right.
The same sense of dissatisfaction was hitting her in her personal life. She did go on dates every now and then, but the whole dating-bar-social scene was too complicated for her liking. She’d always been a straightforward kind of gal with simple tastes. All she wanted after a long day at work was a good long soak in her bathtub and hearty Italian takeout or sushi, followed by—in absence of the real deal—a much needed close encounter with her vibrator. The way she saw it, it was preferable to play with a plastic object than a man with a plastic heart. She just didn’t want to waste time dating guys who had the feelings of a grape.
Deep down, she knew what she really wanted. As a good old-fashioned Southern girl, she craved a loving marriage, a home filled with the laughter of an adoring husband and the innocent voices
of children. She wanted to find the passion she read so much about in all those steamy books. Despite her age and life as a modern, independent woman, she still believed in fairy tales.
However, she wasn’t about to fall for just any guy. It was hard to meet someone who saw life the way she did and found meaning in all the little things. Most of the men she was exposed to were deeply involved in the corporate rat race and wouldn’t have time for a meaningful relationship, much less a family. She wanted more. Much more. A confident, strong man with a heart of gold, who would sweep her away and make her his willing love slave. He’d be forceful and tender, lovingly dominant. He’d want her every day with an unrivalled need and most of all, he’d love her forever.
He’d also love her full, thick, hourglass body.
Although her friends kept telling her how pretty and wonderfully “voluptuous” she was—God bless them and their kind hearts—she recognized the truth for what it was. She knew she couldn’t change her size sixteen frame, her naturally unruly hair, hips she wouldn’t fit in low-rise jeans and breasts she could barely squeeze in her 38Ds. She’d be delusional if she imagined herself as anybody’s type.
Of course, she wasn’t overly bothered with the situation. It was a case of take it or leave it. Far be it for her to apologize for being more of an Amazon than a Barbie doll. Olivia was a champion for honesty and had no love for games. Men—at least the ones she had known—seemed to be turned on by petite, delicate, flirtatious women like her sister Fiona, and she couldn’t change reality. Why, the Ideal Woman was all over TV, posing in front of the camera, showing off her skinny ribs in a thong bikini!
