S.L. Carpenter and Sahara Kelly
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Being a bodyguard for a rich widow is a pretty good gig for
Mel Kent, a guy who can certainly guard just about anyone’s body. However, he
probably doesn’t lust after them the way he lusts for Rose Jackson. She’s
young, bright and everything he wants - but can’t have. After all, she’s in
charge of a multi-million dollar corporation and he’s just the hired help.
Rose is more than a little aware of the hunk of masculine perfection guarding
her body. She’s indulged in a few fantasies herself, time permitting. Now that
she has chance to take a night off, she decides to scratch that itch the
professional way - at an exclusive resort where pleasure is the only goal. It’s
expensive, but ...
Excerpt-
Rose strolled to the
buffet that lined one wall and gazed at the mass of scented candles, then let
her fingers drift over the tasteful selection of high-end glossy magazines, her
thoughts still on Mel.
He’s good at his job.
He spoke little, was as
unobtrusive as a shadow, and yet…lately she’d noticed something in his eyes
when they met hers.
He looks at me like he’s interested. Like he wants to take my clothes off and check me for bugs. And I think
I’d let him. Which is entirely the fault of being celibate for too long.
Maybe she was imagining
it. He’d been by her side, protecting her ever since her husband had been
felled by an aneurism and left her in sole control of Jackson Enterprises. Now
that she fit the description of incredibly rich widow, she supposed she needed
a bodyguard. She had taken over the reins of the business, developed new
campaigns and worked hard on new leads over the past eighteen months. She’d
proved herself worthy of the CEO position she’d inherited - but at one hell of
a cost.
To accomplish her goals,
she’d sacrificed herself in a variety of ways…no social life, no parties, no
adventurous foreign vacations…not even a shopping trip down Fifth Avenue more
than once every six months or so. Sometimes she’d had to remind herself to
shower. It had been all work, all the time. Deaf to the entreaties of her
friends, she’d hunkered down in her office, and only now could she come up for
air, breathe, and take a few hours for herself. The work was still there, but
she had it running the way she wanted at last, with people she could rely on
taking some of the burden from her shoulders.
Of course, the change in
her situation and her new accessibility brought about its own share of
problems.
Not a day passed without
a friend approaching her bearing a suggestion. Often it was for a blind date,
or occasionally it was the phone number of some businessman they knew who wanted
to take her to dinner. Which was all well and good, but not anything Rose was
particularly interested in. Even though the last couple of years had been spent
in near-hermitlike isolation, she wasn’t a fool and had a well-developed streak
of practicality.
She knew she couldn’t
trust anyone to go out with her as Rose and not Ms. Jackson, rich widow. Doubtless
those men existed. But she’d rather be safe than sorry. A woman in her position
only gave her trust to those who absolutely earned it. Or to those whose
discretion she’d purchased.
Which had brought her
here, to this up-market and discreet hideaway. A place where she was going to
rediscover a side of herself she’d buried and damn near forgotten about.
A place where she
intended to let a man take her body and pleasure it, use his skills to bring
her joy, excitement and - she hoped - at least one eye-rolling, scream
inducing, stress releasing, toe-curling orgasm.
Maybe even two.
Buy from:
OPEN HOUSE
Sahara Kelly
Filling in for a
vacationing salesman isn’t Jeff McAdams’ idea of weekend fun. But he’s
the architect of the development, so sitting in a model home and
attempting to sell visitors on the ideas he’s incorporated into his
designs - it’s something he doesn’t really mind doing.
It gets a bit
more challenging when his partner (and father) announces they’ve hired a
new design team. Jeff takes it in stride, since he knows when it comes
to the fancy stuff, he’s no expert. Give him a ruler, a set of
blueprints and an idea. Leave the soaps and toss pillows to someone
else.
That someone else arrives late that afternoon. And when she
walks upstairs she takes Jeff’s breath away. It’s Gabriella Rossini, the
one girl he could never forget. Within seconds the heat between them
flares and Jeff and Gaby soon realize that sometimes embers can simmer
for years without dying.
And when rekindled, the ensuing flame could
be hot enough to singe their eyebrows. Hmm. Something’s burning in this
Open House - and it's not the optional gas fireplace…
AND COMING IN LATE SEPTEMBER
