Now available.Blurb:
Bree Conner thinks she’s volunteered to be a cocktail waitress at a benefit party for the homeless, donating her tips to the shelter—until the end of the night when she gets auctioned off to the highest bidder to a man who has been making eyes at her all evening. That man happens to be the partner of another man she’d had an extremely unforgettable sexual encounter with a few months earlier…and had been avoiding all evening.
Oh, what a tangled tinseled web we weave…
With 24 hours to do her buyer’s bidding, she finds herself draped in tinsel and bound to a humongous antique bed, waiting her Christmas Eve fate, only to find that she’s been bought as a gift to the man she’d had the unforgettable encounter with. Her buyer orders them to “get each other out of their systems” so they can either go on with life, or not. Thing is, while blindfolded and securely bound, she’s pretty sure she feels two sets of hands on her body, instead of one…
Both women turned. Bree gasped at the sight of the man standing immediately behind them, leaning into the bar. The color of his sparkling eyes rivaled the most clear blue turquoise she’d ever seen. His chiseled features forced her to catch a breath. It was difficult to immediately discern whether he was Anglo or Native…probably bi-racial. His complexion was much darker than hers; his semi-short, light brown hair, deliciously unkempt.
What a beautiful man.
And there was something slightly familiar about him.
Looking anywhere but straight into his face, Bree acted non-chalant. “You’re right. That price was a steal.”
“We know.”
The man pushed away from the bar and held out a hand to Bree. “Carson
“The hired help.”
Ginger poked her elbow in her side, and Bree jumped. She took Carson
“Yeah. Like the cheese.”
The right corner of his mouth stayed in smile-mode.
“And she’s Ginger, like the cookie.”
The bartender set the last of her drinks on her tray. Squeezing between Carson and Ginger, she smiled back and said, “And I have drinks to deliver. Nice to meet you.”
Her fumbling fingers grasped the tray and in that second, she realized she was trembling. Not since she’d broken up with Sam a couple of months ago, had she realized how much she missed being close to a man.
She loved men.
Men.
Plural.
And that was the trouble. The men she dated always seemed to want some sort of commitment. It was difficult for her to settle. And sooner or later, bored and unsatisfied, she strayed…
Confused, unsure why he seemed so familiar, she shook her head. “Um, earlier tonight? No.”
Cocking his head to one side, he narrowed his gaze and studied her. “No. Prior to tonight. I never forget a face.” He wriggled his fingers, as if he was itching to touch her. “Or a profile.” Then he did just that, touched her. Reaching out, he grazed a soft, fingertip stroke across her cheekbone and then traced the outline of her jaw, as if he were rendering a line drawing of her face. An unexpected shiver crannied through her and sped toward her center. His touch had instantly aroused her and it came from out of nowhere. “I’m an artist,” he continued, “and I never forget a contour…”
Bree huffed out a quick breath, trying to quell the short pants that wanted to escape her mouth. “I’m not sure, Carson
Someone bumped into her from behind, pushing her closer into him. He steadied her against his chest—which did absolutely nothing to quell her arousal, but served to completely stimulate it. She inhaled, deep, and took in the sharp spice of his aftershave, and nearly melted.
Her face was in his neck. “I should deliver those drinks,” she whispered.
Steadying her in front of him, Carson
She hesitated, and did a slow turn, as Carson
And the cheeks of her ass.
The action sent her sex into a decadent pucker of desire.