Blurb ~
Nash is trying to make a name for himself in the art world…
But when he meets a realtor to buy a gallery, he is stunned
to find Chloe sitting at the table with the man. He has never stopped thinking
about her since she disappeared from his life without a trace. Is it too late
to win back her love?
Chloe has finally found a way to leave her past behind her…
But her heart leaps out of her chest when she sees Nash. How
can he be here? Now…after all this time? On the surface, she pulls herself back
together. But underneath she feels she is about to shatter. After remaking
herself, how can she deal with being faced with Nash and the life she knew
before?
If this chance meeting doesn’t rip Chloe and Nash apart, he will.
Little do they know, someone has been lurking in the shadows,
manipulating them all along. If he has his way, the two will never be reunited.
Even if he has to take one of them out to ensure it.
Excerpt ~
Outside, I
paid a valet attendant to let me park my truck near the front, so I could see
her come out. Minutes later, the pair strolled through the door, Jack seeming
miffed and Chloe obviously trying to reassure him. As I watched, she reached up
on her tiptoes and pulled his head down to whisper in his ear. He laughed and
slid his arms around her, letting his hands move down to grab her ass, tightly
housed, I saw now, in a short black skirt. My eyes wandered, as his hands had,
over her firm rear and the seeming endlessness of her legs, lengthened even
more by the racy black heels she wore. They cut a pretty picture—Chloe, light
and sensual, Jack, tall, broad-chested, with dark blond, well-groomed hair and
a glowing smile. My hands gripped the steering wheel, observing until the valet
maneuvered a sleek, red Ferrari into the spot in front of the hotel where the
awning and red carpet ended. Jack reached to open the door for her. She folded
her long legs into the vehicle, laughing, head tilted flirtatiously as her eyes
danced over the high-priced realtor.
An unfamiliar
tightening in my chest grabbed me, and I fought to swallow the fire which
seemed to be rising within me, choking me with its intensity. I automatically
steered my beat-up, blue pickup truck onto the street behind the red Ferrari,
following it through the thick knots of traffic in the downtown theatre
district. I could see through the rear window she was sitting nearly on top of
him.
Don’t those things have stick shifts, for God’s sake?
Links ~
Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01AHIS2TK?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660
Author Bio ~
MJ is a lunch lady in the heart of Central Illinois. My gosh!
Can you get more folksy than that? She met her husband at the University of
Missouri-Columbia and now she has a nineteen-year-old (how did that happen?)
and seventeen year old triplets! She loves to read, karaoke (where she can
pretend she is a rock star) and spends WAY too much time on Facebook. She grew
up in St. Louis and still has family there.
Cover ~
Character ~
Chloe Carmichael
Favorite place to visit- no question, our treehouse! Nash’s
and mine. Well, it’s not exactly
ours, unless you count squatter’s rights. We sort of…appropriated it.
Significant other- none. Significant or not.
Worst fear or nightmare- someone touching the real me.
Favorite food- it’s gotta be za. Pizza, that is. And chocolate. Or maybe chocolate coated pizza. Now that’s an idea!
Wealthy, poor, or somewhere in between?- money actually doesn’t mean much to me. All I need is enough to pay my bills and occasionally get a new outfit. Even when I do get a new outfit, you can bet it’s an affordable one and not some designer piece.
Significant other- none. Significant or not.
Worst fear or nightmare- someone touching the real me.
Favorite food- it’s gotta be za. Pizza, that is. And chocolate. Or maybe chocolate coated pizza. Now that’s an idea!
Wealthy, poor, or somewhere in between?- money actually doesn’t mean much to me. All I need is enough to pay my bills and occasionally get a new outfit. Even when I do get a new outfit, you can bet it’s an affordable one and not some designer piece.
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