by Violet Duke
Hot-shot director Davis Milo knows the first rule of directing: never fall for your leading lady. Captivated by Jill’s raw talent, he fights his feelings, but watching Jill on-stage with another man is more than his jealous streak can take. Keeping things professional isn’t an option. He wants all of her.
Soon the ingénue and her director are staying late in the empty theatre, their private rehearsals spiraling into new, forbidden territory. Caught up between fiction and reality, Jill struggles to find the truth in all their staged kisses. But how can she be sure that what she feels is real, and not a part of the play? And when two people spend their lives pretending, what happens after the final curtain falls?
EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT
He glances down at the black pumps. “Nice shoes.”
As I follow his eyes, I realize my hand is on his shirt, my fingers fisted around the cloth, clutching it. I should let go. But I don’t. Because I can’t help but notice he has that clean and freshly showered smell that makes any woman want to lean in and lick a guy’s neck.
Close her eyes. Inhale, and trail a tongue all the way to his earlobe, enjoying the sound of a low groan.
“Nice shirt,” I say softly, running my index finger across one smooth button. Then I look up to find him staring down at me. His dark blue eyes aren’t cold anymore. They’re not keeping me at bay. Instead, they’re heated, searching mine.
It’s hypnotic the way he looks at me. Completely hypnotic, as the room goes quiet, the air between us charged.
I press my teeth against my lips, and I think, but I’m not entirely sure, because thought has vanished, that I nod briefly, almost as if I’m giving him permission. Then he bends towards me, and my breath catches. Before I even process rationally what’s happening, his lips are on mine, and my pulse is racing. It’s a barely there kiss, just him brushing his soft lips against mine, but I want more. So I pull him closer and deepen the kiss. He groans, and then suddenly his hands are in my hair, and he’s twining his fingers through my long, blond strands, and tugging me close. I thought I was leading this kiss, but I’m not anymore, because he’s claiming me, tracing his tongue across my top lip, then nipping at the bottom lip, then kissing me so deeply and with so much heat that I shudder. That only makes him kiss me harder, and everything else falls away because this is a kiss I can feel in every single cell in my body. Deep, and fevered and possessive.
It makes me want things I’m not supposed to have.
It makes me want him.
My heart pounds wildly as he presses closer, so dangerously near to me that I’m longing for him to slam me against his body. Touch me all over. His lips own me, his hands want to know me, and I swear I might combust from this kind of electric contact.
He breaks the kiss and I’m honestly not sure where I am anymore. Or who I am. I look at him, at Davis, but everything is so hazy right now, that I don’t know what to say. I don’t think he does either, because he doesn’t speak for a moment. He exhales deeply, collecting himself. As if he doesn’t know how the kiss transpired either.
“I’m sorry,” he says, then steps back, pushing his hand roughly through his hair. He looks away from me, staring at some distant point on the wall. “That was a mistake,” he says quietly.
My mouth is open in shock. A mistake? That was a kiss that begged to become so much more.
But I manage to hide my embarrassment at having kissed my first Broadway director by doing what he hired me to do. Act. “Yes. A mistake,” I say confidently.
“It won’t happen again,” he adds, now turning his gaze back to me, his eyes cold once more. Stripped of all that longing from seconds ago.
“Of course not. Thank you for the script. I’ll see you when rehearsal starts.”
“Yes.” He returns to his desk and I grab my coat, my head cloudy even as my heart beats fast, my body still racing, still wanting.
Wanting more.
[END OF EXCERPT]
--EXCLUSIVE SNEAK PEEK–
RUSH (Phoenix Rising)
by
USA TODAY Bestselling Author JOAN SWAN
Coming August 27, 2013
BOOK DESCRIPTION
"Gutsy, jawdropping style!" Larissa Ione
"Joan Swan writes riveting twists and turns like no one else!" New York Times bestselling author Stephanie Tyler
Jessica Fury, Washington lobbyist, has money, connections, and her own firm. But five years ago she had something better: happiness. Her firefighter husband, Quaid, was handsome, courageous, and crazy about her. Then one day he walked into a chemical inferno and never walked out. Jessica has been through hell to get back on her feet. And then a rumor surfaces that could bring a miracle or shatter her world again.
Q has been a prisoner forever. He's honed his mind and body into weapons. He's developed abilities no one else understands. But he's still at the mercy of a cabal of ruthless men, who blank his memory, test him like a lab rat, and tell him lies. Although his past has been erased and his future looks grim, instinct tells him he has a woman to live for. What his mind can't remember, his body can't forget. . .
The heat is on.
EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT
Jessica focused on the man's eyes once more, and the breath left her lungs in a quiet swoosh. How many times had she dreamed of looking into her husband's eyes again? Millions. It had to have been millions.
This isn’t reality.You’re not really here. This man’s eyes look like Quaid’s because you want them to look like Quaid’s.
And she did. God help her, she did. She so badly wanted these eyes to be Quaid’s she would have sold her soul to the Devil. Which was exactly why she’d told Teague and Keira she couldn’t do this.
“Shit . . .” Her voice shook as her logical mind tried to make sense of what she saw even if her heart was ready to leap at the one-in-a-billion chance.
Then he smiled. Or tried to around the cuts. His lips curved and his deep brown eyes glinted beneath those heavy lashes . . . and . . . Jesus, Mary and Joseph . . . that was her Quaid in those grinning eyes.
“Haven’t . . .” He licked dry lips. “Seen you in so long.” His voice was rusty, not altogether different, but not familiar either.
He rolled toward her, and the chain above his head clanked. She lunged to grab the metal and keep it quiet. The move pressed her body against his and an instant, deep hit of tingling awareness penetrated everywhere they touched. His free arm curved around her hips as he made a sultry hum that sent fireworks through her body. He turned and pulled her into him until her breasts were snug against his chest. He kept his head tilted back, his eyes on her face with an expression of awe and pleasure and affection. But he was obviously a little gone, because he showed no fear, as if her presence didn’t pose a threat to them both.
“You have to be quiet.” Her breaths came quickly—because of the fear, she told herself, not the way her body lit up being pressed against him.
“I miss seeing you.” His hot gaze slid down her throat, lower to her chest and rested on her breasts. She knew that look. The hungry one. The one that make her skin tighten and her nipples harden. Like now. “Why were you gone so long?”
Confusion. Desperation. Suggestion. That’s what this was about. Because if this was truly Quaid, those comments didn’t make sense.
“Look at me.” She lifted his chin. When those brown eyes were on hers again, she quickly just pushed out the words before she couldn’t. “Who am I?”
His smile grew wider. His lids grew heavier. The man was half drugged out of his mind. This was a ridiculous effort. Then his arm tightened around her, drawing her close. “Woman of my dreams.”
She frowned. This was crazy. She was starting to believe she’d gone crazy. Or she was about to. Those eyes had to be a fantasy. A trick of the mind. Something she saw because she so desperately wanted Quaid. Or because she so desperately didn’t want this to be just another dream where she would wake up to the stone-cold reality that her husband was in the grave and she’d ne
ver touch him again.
“Who’s with you?”
His whisper brought her gaze up from full lips surrounded by several days of stubble to find his eyes filled with a liquid heat that made her body ache in ways she’d forgotten.
“No one.” Which reminded her of what a mess she was in. “It’s just me.”
“Then . . .” His smile faded. His gaze darted past her, scanned the room, and came back. “Why are you here?”
What kind of question was that? And why the hell was she here? And where the fuck was here? Her mind wobbled on a razor-thin tightrope wire.
“To find you,” she only half-lied. “I came for you.”
“You came . . . for me?”
The astonishment in his voice, the surprise in his eyes, made her feel ten shades of guilty for having refused Keira and Teague. “Yes.”
“I’ve waited so long to hear you say that.”
The sexy timbre of his voice was still caressing her when he lifted his face and pressed his lips to hers. Jessica pulled back, an instinctive move made out of confusion. But his hand slid up her spine and cupped her head. And his lips moved over hers, firm and warm and oh, just . . . so . . . right.
His lids fell closed, and those long lashes lay just millimeters from her own. Her brain clouded. Her body softened. A fresh undercurrent of power flowed between them, sending adrenaline to her heart and energy to every cell in her body.
His kisses lengthened, deepened, until his lips caressed and suckled hers as if he were exploring them for the first time. And like waking from a deep, refreshing sleep, everything inside her lifted, stretched and filled. Each press, pull or slide of his mouth erased a shadow from her past.
A sound floated from her throat, one of pain and loss, disbelief and hope. She tried to remember if Quaid had ever kissed her so perfectly when the slow sweep of his tongue along her bottom lip stole her breath. Then he tilted his head, opened his mouth on a groan and fully tasted her.
And she knew.
This was her husband. This was Quaid.
Jessica whimpered, tightened her arms around his neck and kissed him hard and deep while a tidal wave of emotion flooded her chest. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t let go, couldn’t open her eyes for fear he’d evaporate into the mist of a fading dream. Nor was she able to conceive what she’d done to him by believing he’d been dead all these years. Guilt and pain and fear prowled like starved beasts waiting to attack, but she had to do whatever it took to remain strong long enough to get Quaid out of here. Then she could feel all she had to feel. Deal with all she had to deal with. Then she could spend the rest of her life making it up to him.
When she broke for air, Quaid’s dark eyes burned with lust beneath heavy lids. His lips were wet, his mouth open and ready for more. He breathed hard, his muscles straining as he pulled against the restraint to bring her closer. “I knew you’d taste amazing.”
“Don’t talk.” She pressed her fingers against his lips. His words were messing with her head, and she needed to stay focused. “You’re not making sense right now. It’s the drugs. I just want to get you out of here and then we can talk, straighten everything out.” All those emotions crashed in another heavy wave. She took his face in both hands and pressed her forehead to his. “Then we can be together forever. I won’t ever leave you again.”
He grinned—all straight, white teeth and uneven crescents curving deep on either side of his mouth. Her Quaid. She’d never forget his grin as long as she lived. Her heart blossomed, so big, so beautiful, she was sure her ribs would crack.
“I knew it would be like this with us,” he whispered before taking her mouth again with vital, life-affirming passion.
She was completely lost in Quaid when he turned his head sharply, breaking the kiss.
“What the fuck are you doing awake?” Another man’s voice came from the direction of the door.
The man lifted his foot and kicked out. A tingling rush zipped through Jessica’s whole body as his boot passed through her. She gripped Quaid tighter, trying to protect him, but the boot hit his chest, dead center, as if she weren’t even there. He jerked hard and flew back against the wall.
“Quaid!” She reached for him. The coin that had opened this door or hole or whatever it was that had enabled her to reach him, flew from her hand, hit the wall and rolled across the floor.
[END OF EXCERPT]
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Violet Duke is the pen name of Nina Nakayama, lovingly chosen in honor of her two wacky children. A former professor of English Education at the University of Hawai‘i, Nina is ecstatic to now be on the other side of the page writing wickedly fun contemporary romance novels. Besides writing and feeding her book-a-day reading addiction, she can often be found tackling reno projects with her power tools and trying pretty much anything without reading the directions first, or cooking ‘special edition’ dishes that laugh in the face of recipes. Nina lives in Hawai‘i with her two cute kids and similarly adorable husband.
Visit me at:
http://www.violetduke.com
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The One She Never Thought She Could Keep…
The One She Never Hoped She Could Have…
A Decision She Never Dreamed She’d Have to Make.
Read the Entire Collection
The • Nice • Girl n. 1. female of the species who never does anything or anyone bad: Hands-off, she’s a nice girl. 2. the woman that men take home to meet mom: Find my son a ‘nice girl to love.’ SEE ALSO: a good girl; girl scout; Abby Bartlett
This is the complete Nice Girl to Love series collection, which contains: Resisting the Bad Boy (Book One), Falling for the Good Guy (Book Two), and Choosing the Right Man (Book Three).
THE ONE SHE NEVER THOUGHT SHE COULD KEEP...
Abby Bartlett is the quintessential nice girl. Between teaching, volunteering, completing her PhD, and helping her best friend raise his daughter, Abby never gets the chance to be anything but nice. That is, until the all-wrong-for-her man she's only ever known from afar starts daring her to simply take that chance for herself. His sage advice? Try something wild and fast. Preferably him.
An unbridled, hotshot attorney with a not-so-little black book, Connor Sullivan has earned himself quite the bad boy reputation. But in his defense, he's a very conscientious one. He knows far too well that sometimes in life, love isn't enough...or worse, not even a factor at all. To avoid that misery--and repel the drama--Connor has a firm ‘nothing over a month’ rule. Who knew a nice girl would be the one to make him want to break all his rules?
THE ONE SHE NEVER HOPED SHE COULD HAVE...
Abby is well aware that everyone thinks she’s in love with her best friend Brian. He is, after all, the type of man a nice girl should be with—the polar opposite of the bad boy—the kind of guy who didn’t let his wife’s decade-long illness stop him from showering her with a lifetime of love every second until her dying day. But everyone’s wrong; she couldn’t possibly be in love with him. Because she’s never once allowed herself that option.
It’s taken a while but Brian has finally come to terms with surviving the woman he spent half his life loving, a third of it losing. Truth is though, he wouldn’t have ‘survived’ any of it really had it not been for Abby—sweet, incredible Abby—the woman he’s never once had to picture his life without, never realized he couldn’t truly live without. Until now. Now that he’s finally able to love her the way she deserves, the way he knows she wants to be loved…by his brother. Who’s giving him exactly one chance to speak now or forever hold his peace.
A DECISION SHE NEVER DREAMED SHE’D HAVE TO MAKE...
And now it’s up to Abby to decide between the bad boy wanting to start a life with her and the good guy fighting for the life they’ve already built.
Print Length: 491 pages (Based on paperback edition, available August 2013)
VIOLET DUKE is the pen name of Nina Nakayama, lovingly chosen in honor of her two adorably wacky kids. Nina blames her lifelong addiction to reading on the public library she all but lived in as a kid. Now decades later, she's still a bonafide book junkie with a book-a-day habit she can't kick and nightly reading-by-flashlight binges. You could say that reading was her gateway obsession, with writing being its natural progression. And she couldn't be happier for it. She gets to scramble after a bunch of untamed story characters in her head for a living, without the fear of men in white coats and butterfly nets coming after her—not for those reasons anyway.
Like the heroines in her novels, Nina has had her fair share of ups and downs in life...along with a quirky happily-ever-after she couldn't have written better herself. Her dream house on O‘ahu is one that some crazy builder let her draw up the plans for via an old bargain bin architecture software readable only on WinXP or older. And the hero of her romantic tale is a guy who, after getting her number from her former student, tricked her into nightly marathon phone calls while she’d been trying to focus on her doctoral dissertation. She ended up falling in love with the sneaky man within weeks—before ever meeting him in person—and marrying him a few months later. Now, whenever folks ask what inspired (possessed) her to one day put a pin in her career as an English Ed professor to pursue her dreams of becoming a romance author, she smiles and points an accusatory thumb at him.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright © 2013 Violet Duke
