Excerpt!
“Unzip my dress.” She knew her voice was husky with invitation.
After a short delay of an eternity, she felt his shaking hands near the top of her spine. He inched the zipper down to where it ended just above the curve of her backside. Lowering her arms to her sides, she shrugged the straps of the dress from her shoulders and heard his sharp intake of breath when it dropped to the floor. He placed his hands on her bare shoulders before running them down her arms. She leaned back into him, overwhelmed by the heat emanating from his body. It matched the fire burning in hers.
“Shannon,” he said, his voice a whisper.
His hands slipped around her, and he tightened his hold. Naked from the waist up, his shirt, the finest silk, felt smooth and cool on her skin, titillating and tantalizing. Leaning back she rested her head on his chest. Her flesh tingled with desire and acute sensitivity to every part of their touching bodies.
“Dare I hope you share my ardor?” he said, placing hot kisses on her neck and shoulders.
She twisted in his embrace to face him. Her hands traced a path up his chest. For so long, she’d yearned to touch him like this, to feel his muscles move under her fingertips. Nimbly unknotting his tie, she tugged it off with a swift motion, then swung it up and wrapped it around his neck.
“Dare what you will,” she breathed, using her makeshift lasso to pull his head down to hers.
In the moonlight, she saw his smile as he pulled her to him, claiming her lips with his. Passion, built up for so long, flowed through her in waves of pulsing want. This was Azariah, her Azariah, holding her while she drowned in a sea of desire. She returned his kiss with equal ardor, her tongue darting into his mouth. A lusty growl reverberated deep in his throat, enticing a seductive moan from her in answer.
In her mind, caution whispered, but her body would have what it coveted, and responded without thought. The taste of his kiss, the caress of his hands, and the sound of his heartbeat demanded her surrender, and silenced rational thought. The spark was ignited; she was ready to burn.
Author bio:
Rowena Tisdale was born and raised in Michigan, sort of all over the state. As an adult, she moved south to Texas, and after living there for a bit, headed east, eventually returning home to her beloved "Mitten State." She now resides nearby her favorite city, Detroit, with her son and a pair of feline companions.
A reader of romance from an early age, she remains an avid fan of the genre. Over the years, she began to wonder why the feisty heroines she's always loved haven't aged with her. Her stories are about older women, because she knows romance is not solely the purview of youth. Whether a single mother in her 30s, a crone who makes goddesses smile, or a spoiled socialite in her 40s, Rowena writes female characters who have the beauty and confidence of experience. She writes across genres, romance, chick-lit, and women's fiction, but all her novels are love stories.
She thinks he’s crazy, he thinks she’s a witch.
Of course, they fall in love.
Shannon Kellogg is a spoiled heiress. She’s shallow and self-centered, but after her third divorce, she vows to become a better person. Practicing kindness and empathy is her prescription for self-improvement.
As if on cue, a young man with a strange accent, dressed as a colonial cosplayer appears in her yard during a thunderstorm. He’s lost and confused, and something about him tugs at her heart. She sees an opportunity on her path to change, and decides to help him.
It turns out to be more of a challenge than she anticipated. Azariah Scott was unwillingly tossed through time and the only way to help him is to send him back to 1750. She doesn’t know how to honor her commitment to him; despite his belief she’s a witch, she doesn’t believe in magic.
As they work together to find a gateway to the past, love blossoms, and Shannon comes to regret her promise.
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Author bio:
Rowena Tisdale was born and raised in Michigan, sort of all over the state. As an adult, she moved south to Texas, and after living there for a bit, headed east, eventually returning home to her beloved "Mitten State." She now resides nearby her favorite city, Detroit, with her son and a pair of feline companions.
A reader of romance from an early age, she remains an avid fan of the genre. Over the years, she began to wonder why the feisty heroines she's always loved haven't aged with her. Her stories are about older women, because she knows romance is not solely the purview of youth. Whether a single mother in her 30s, a crone who makes goddesses smile, or a spoiled socialite in her 40s, Rowena writes female characters who have the beauty and confidence of experience. She writes across genres, romance, chick-lit, and women's fiction, but all her novels are love stories.
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