Runaway Groom

by Virginia Nelson

  Heat flooded Abigail’s cheeks.

  “Nothing lovelier than a blushing bride.” Mrs. Watkin tittered, leaving.

  “Ready?” asked Carnie.

  Abigail nodded.

  Moving to the entrance way, she watched Carnie disappear around the corner. No one gave her away this time. She was a woman grown. If she was getting married, it was because she decided it, not because someone else had to give her away.

  For a moment, she held her breath. Memories of that first wedding day swamped her.

  Memories of a lifetime ago. Of climbing trees, fishing, sitting in tree houses with her best friend and making up stories about someday.

  Today is someday.

  She followed Carnie and Gracie to the center of the aisle and met his eyes.

  Braxton waited, looking debonair and uncomfortable all at once, in his tux. Heading down the aisle to him, she felt like she was walking on a cloud of air.

  All of it led up to today.

  Braxton and she would have bad days, she knew, but it didn’t matter because if you love someone, you stick around for the shitty days and the good ones.

  He took her hand and looked down at her. His eyes, crinkled a bit at the corners now, smiled down at her, and she returned the look.

  “The hell with waiting.”

  Shoving back the veil, he tilted her head back and took her lips. The feel of his mouth did what it had done since the very first time. Her head spun, her heart sped and her soul sang.

  Breaking the kiss, he again met her gaze. “We’ve waited a lifetime for this. Figured I shouldn’t have to wait for the minister to tell me I can kiss you. That okay with you?”

  Tugging him back down for another delicious taste, she whispered back, “No more waiting. From now on, we’re living.”

  Things might not work out perfectly. Probably they would have their fair share of bad days mixed in with the good.

  But together, the good was so much better. Abigail was willing to risk it.

  Without hesitation, she answered when her time came. “I do.”

  About the Author

  Virginia Nelson spends her days chasing three very active kids around. When she is not doing this, or plotting taking over the world, she likes to write, play in the mud, drive far too fast and scream at inanimate objects. She can often be found listening to music that is far too loud and typing her next fantastic tale of blood, sex and random acts of ineptitude. Romance, in Ms. Nelson’s opinion, is not about riding off into the sunset on the back of a horse with the knight in shining armor— it is about riding the dragon. If the knight can keep up… well, that is love. She loves hearing from her readers and can be contacted at www.virg-nelson.com or on a variety of social networks.

  What happens on the road can follow you all the way home.

  Since You’ve Been Gone

  © 2013 Elle Kennedy

  Welcome to Paradise, Book 4

  Austin Bishop is going home to face some difficult truths, but that doesn’t mean he can’t take the long way home. So rather than hop on a plane, he accepts a photography assignment that requires a cross-country drive.

  The road can be a lonely place, though, and when he spots a cute redhead leaning against a broken-down car, he stops to offer the stranded damsel a ride.

  Mari Smith has lost her job and her apartment, she’s moving back in with her parents, and now it looks like she’s without a car, too. When a sexy, dark-haired stranger stops to help, she’s utterly grateful. And utterly tempted to explore their sizzling chemistry.

  The fresh-faced Mari is so sweet, so smoking hot, so easy to be with, Austin finds himself spilling a shocking secret he’s been holding onto for the past year. But passion doesn’t fix everything. And Austin realizes he has some personal demons to vanquish before he and Mari can hope for a chance at forever.

  Warning: This book features a hero who knows exactly what he wants between the sheets and a redhead who isn’t scared to give it to him!

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Since You’ve Been Gone:

  Austin spent way too much time in the shower, delaying his return to the bedroom for as long as he possibly could. The past few days had been pure torture, yet somehow he’d managed to keep his hands off the quirky redhead who made his entire body burn. The separate room arrangement had been a blessing—every night he’d been able to retreat to his room and jack off in the shower using all the Mari images he stockpiled during the day.

  Like the way her hair shone in the sunlight. And how her full breasts filled those skimpy tank tops she liked to wear. How her sensual lips curved impishly whenever she teased him.

  So far, the self-gratification sessions had succeeded in easing his discomfort.

  But tonight they would be sharing a room.

  And a bed.

  God help him.

  He tipped his head and let the shower spray soak his face, but the water had grown lukewarm, a signal that he really ought to quit stalling. It didn’t help that Mari had been acting strange all evening, far more subdued than he was used to. Normally she chattered on endlessly, always armed with a sassy remark or silly joke, but she’d been quiet during the visit to Virgil and the dinner that followed.

  Sighing, Austin shut off the water and stepped out of the tiny shower stall. He reached for a towel, but it was difficult to secure it around his waist what with the massive erection trying to poke through the terrycloth. The memory of Mari in those flimsy pink panties and sports bra flew into his head and sent a jolt of heat straight down to his cock.

  Jesus. The woman had the curviest, sexiest body he’d ever seen. His hands had itched to touch all that smooth white skin, to glide over the curve of her hips, to cup her firm ass. And her breasts…his mouth turned to sawdust just thinking about those perky breasts.

  Maybe asking her to travel with him had been a mistake. How the hell was he supposed to keep his hands off her now that he’d seen her half naked?

  Austin stifled a groan of frustration and forced himself to be mature about this. So they were sharing a bed tonight. Big deal. He’d draw an imaginary line down the center of the mattress and pretend that he was sleeping alone. He was twenty-five years old—surely he could sleep with a woman without sleeping with the woman.

  He quickly dried off and yanked on the clean pair of boxer-briefs he’d brought into the bathroom with him, then took a breath and left the bathroom.

  “That was the longest shower I’ve ever seen anyone take,” Mari announced. “Are you secretly a girl or something?”

  She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, wearing a pair of blue cotton shorts and a white tank top that didn’t hide the braless state of her breasts—or the puckered nipples straining against the thin fabric.

  “I was shaving my legs,” he cracked, doing his best to keep his gaze far, far away from her mouthwatering chest.

  In fact, he avoided looking at her altogether. She looked too damn cute in her PJ’s, with her wavy hair loose around her shoulders and her skin pink from the shower she’d taken before him.

  “Anyhoo,” she went on, “your super long shower actually gave me the opportunity to do some thinking, and I’ve made a decision.”

  “Okay.” He drifted to the television set and grabbed the remote control, still averting his eyes. “What about?”

  “I think we should sleep together.”

  The remote promptly fell out of his hand and clattered to the linoleum floor.

  Austin couldn’t help but turn to gape at her. And God help him, but her declaration had made his cock go harder than granite, an erection that was hard to miss beneath his boxers.

  Sure enough, Mari’s blue eyes instantly homed in on the undeniable proof of his interest.

  “Huh. I thought it would take a lot more convincing,” she mused.

  Breathing through his nose, Austin tried to banish the desire sizzling through his blood. “What do you mean, we should sleep together?”

  She shrugged. “
Like I said, I thought about it, and I don’t think a short-term fling would be a terrible idea. I mean, as long as we agree that it’s temporary and promise to stay friends afterwards, I think it could work.”

  His head started to spin. Goddamn women—why were their thought processes so frickin’ nuts? One day she wasn’t into casual affairs, the next she was saying she wanted to get busy.

  “What changed your mind?” he had to ask, though his voice came out raspier than he intended for it to be.

  Mari shot him a pointed look, her blue eyes sweeping up and down his body. “Look at you,” she grumbled. “I probably could have controlled myself if you weren’t flaunting that hot bod every other second.”

  He choked out a laugh. “Hey, I’ve been fully clothed since we met, except for today at the pond and right now. You’re the one parading around in the tightest tops known to man. And those short-shorts! Jesus Christ, woman.”

  Her pretty face lit up in delight. “You’ve been checking me out too?”

  “Duh.” He rolled his eyes. “If you want to talk self-control, I think I deserve a damn medal.”

  Mari hopped off the bed and approached him with purposeful strides. “Okay, then we’re still attracted to each other. That bodes well for our fling.”

  His pulse sped up the closer she came. “Who says I’m agreeing to it?” he challenged.

  Smirking, she glanced at his crotch. “I think your agreement is implied.”

  She had him there. Truth was, he didn’t know why he was arguing. Not touching this woman had been pure torture, and now she was giving him the green light to strip her naked and have his way with her? It was a frickin’ no-brainer.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “You sure about this?”

  She didn’t even blink. “Yep.”

  “Thank God.”

  Without another word, he yanked her toward him, captured her chin with one hand and bent down to kiss her.

  He never saw love coming…until it crashed into him.

  Slammed

  © 2013 Kelly Jamieson

  San Amaro Singles, Book 3

  Brooke Lowry has a mission: fly to Tahiti, pluck PR nightmare Dylan Schell out of whatever party he’s in, bring him home and clean up his image.

  It was her idea for Jackson Cole clothing company to sponsor the pro surfer. But the chances of saving this deal—and her career—look pretty slim when she finds the sexy party boy “shooting the curl” with two beach bunnies.

  Dylan is finally getting back on track, and the next big event would put him over the top…if it wasn’t being held in San Amaro, where he’d be forced to watch his best friends Matt and Corey tie the knot and move on without him.

  He’ll do anything to keep that from happening, including taking shameless advantage of a tropical cyclone—three days cut off from civilization—to distract the lovely Brooke into his bed.

  Despite her moment or three of weakness, Brooke won’t be deterred. And suddenly Dylan finds himself facing a lot of things—his hometown, his past, and something he didn’t see coming. Love.

  Warning: Check it, dude, this book contains a bad boy surfer who gets slammed by fierce waves but gets back up, a buttoned-up woman who learns to chillax, and some righteous shreddin’ the gnarl.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Slammed:

  Brooke hurried outside, retracing her steps through the grounds, past the pool, across the beach and down the wooden dock where the bungalows were. Sixteen…seventeen…eighteen. Yes.

  She approached the small structure. The door was closed but unlocked. She gave a rap on it then stepped inside. “Hello!” she called. “Dylan? Dylan Schell?”

  She shoved her sunglasses up on top of her head. Even so, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimmer light inside the bungalow. She blinked a few times, looking around. Her eyes fell on the big four-poster bed and spotted a dark head there, a stark contrast against white pillows. His eyes appeared closed. He was in bed? At this time of the afternoon?

  “Yeah, baby, suck me, just like that…” Dylan’s hoarse words reached her ears, but before she could turn and get the hell out of there, his eyes flickered open and met hers. The bedcovers started moving and Brooke’s gaze moved over the shapes beneath the duvet. Oh dear God…

  A head emerged from beneath the bedcovers, a woman with long blonde hair, kissing her way up Dylan’s chest, and then another woman emerged, this one with long dark hair.

  Heat swept up from Brooke’s chest into her face, scorching her cheeks.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” Dylan drawled, his white smile flashing in the dim room. “Have you come to join us?”

  Pretty, but way overdressed. Dylan smiled across the dim bungalow at the woman standing in his door. Her pulled-back dark hair revealed a perfect oval face with big dark eyes and a small mouth. That mouth was now parted in surprise, her eyes going wide enough for her eyeballs to pop out and roll across the floor.

  Hell. She apparently wasn’t there to make the threesome a foursome.

  “Oh God,” she said. Then she straightened her shoulders and pressed those pretty lips together. “No, I’m not here to join you.” Her gaze flickered to Suri and Lexi. “I’m here on business. And you need to get out of bed and get dressed.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. Who the hell was this? Jesus. This day was going from bad to worse. First Matt called and got him riled up by asking him to be best man at his wedding, the last wedding in the world he wanted to be at, then he’d been so rattled he’d actually had a hard time getting it up with two hot chicks.

  “I don’t think so, sweetheart,” he said, pulling Suri and Lexi back down. “We’re a little busy, if you hadn’t noticed.”

  “I noticed,” she snapped. “And you’ll have to finish your little ménage à trois later…like maybe in a year and a half when your contract with Jackson Cole expires.”

  “Huh?” Jackson Cole?

  “I’m Brooke Lowry, Assistant Manager, Marketing and PR,” she told him. “And we have important business to discuss. If you want to keep your lucrative contract with Jackson Cole.”

  Annoyance and a quick shiver of fear ran through him. “We can talk later,” he told Brooke Lowry, Assistant Manager, Marketing and PR. Suri went to slide out of bed, and he caught her wrist. “Hey babe, don’t go.”

  “I think we’d better,” Suri said, slanting him an apologetic glance. He watched in dismay as both girls walked over to the dresser where they’d left their bikinis. Apparently being naked in front of a stranger didn’t bother them one bit, and they donned their suits and retrieved sunglasses, flip flops and their big beach bags. Then Brooke stepped aside as they exited the bungalow with cheery waves.

  “Catch you later, Dylan,” Lexi called.

  Well, he didn’t give a shit about being naked in front of a stranger either, and this uptight Marketing and PR manager needed to loosen up a little. He threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, then stood. Brooke’s eyes dropped briefly to his junk, went wide again and even in the dim bungalow he could see the pink flush that tinted her cheeks.

  She half-turned away and folded her arms across her chest. “Put some clothes on. Please.”

  “Meh.” He sauntered over to the bar in the corner and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. He had no problem being naked. “I’m good. Would you like one?” He held up the cold bottle.

  She glanced over at him, then did that little straighten of her slender shoulders again and turned to face him, although keeping her eyes on his face. “No thanks.”

  He leaned casually against the bar and guzzled down half the bottle of icy cold brew. Damn, that was good. “So what’s up, buttercup?” he said, lifting one eyebrow.

  Her mouth tightened. “I really think this conversation is one you want to have with your clothes on.”

  Alarm bells went off in his head. “What conversation is that, sweetheart?”

  “Please don’t call me sweetheart. This is business. Fine, if yo
u want to do this here and now, let’s do it.” She drew in a breath and looked up at the ceiling briefly. “Head office sent me to talk to you about your recent conduct.”

  “My conduct?” His insides contracted.

  “Yes. Your exploits have made it into the news, which has gotten back to the executives at Jackson Cole. They are not pleased, to put it mildly.”

  He kept his face neutral. He hoped. “What ‘exploits’ would those be?” he asked, his voice bland.

  “Things like group sex in the middle of the afternoon.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her again and lifted the bottle. “Hey. We were in the privacy of my bungalow and you came barging in. What I do on my own time in my own bedroom is my business.”

  Her cheeks pinkened again and those dark eyes flashed sparks. He wanted to grin. Yet somehow he knew this wasn’t going to be funny.

  “Other things then,” she conceded. “The drunken partying. The orgies that people do know about. The dope-smoking and nudity on the beach. We’ve managed to smooth things over with the media on some of the other things you’ve done, not the least of which was being arrested for that Quantas Flight having to turn back to Sydney.”

  His back teeth ground together a little at the mention of that. Yeah, that hadn’t been one of his more epic moments, even he had to admit. It had all just been in fun, a little flirting with the flight attendants, and yeah, he’d had a few beers, but Jesus, they’d totally overreacted by turning the plane around. It wasn’t as if he was dangerous, for God’s sake.

  Suddenly being naked didn’t feel quite so comfortable, and he set down the beer on the bar and reached for the board shorts draped over the nearby chair. He stepped into them and quickly tied them loose and low on his hips.

  Brooke’s gaze dropped briefly once more, tracking over his abs and the shorts, then jerked back up to his face. “For God’s sake, take those off,” she snapped.