A Red Hot Valentine's Day
304
A Red Hot Valentine's Day
304Paperback
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Overview
One fateful weekend at a country estate, a beautiful, well-bred widow is caught between a rock and a very hard place when she must choose between two deliciously irresistible lovers...in Lacy Danes's seductive tale of courtship à la mode, Torn Desires.
Long-distance lovers Edie and Ty are counting the hours until their scorching Valentine's Day reunion, each titillating the other with steamy letters describing their erotic journeys. And getting there is definitely half the fun in Megan Hart's wickedly wild Get There.
Eternal damnation has its perks—especially for a voluptuous succubus who is about to receive a very special, very hot Valentine's Day "gift" from her demon lover...in Jackie Kessler's ode to paranormal passion, Hell Is Where the Heart Is.
London's most irresistible rake has one week to prevent the woman he loves from marrying another. And he plans to do so by adeptly employing his most well-practiced arts—seduction...sensation...and erotic love—in Jess Michaels's sumptuous feast of juicy Regency romance, By Valentine's Day.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780061689390 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | HarperCollins |
| Publication date: | 01/06/2009 |
| Series: | Avon Red |
| Pages: | 304 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.30(w) x 7.90(h) x 0.90(d) |
About the Author
Megan Hart is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of more than thirty novels, novellas and short stories. Her work has been published in almost every genre, including contemporary women’s fiction, historical romance, paranormal and erotica. Learn more at www.meganhart.com.
Read an Excerpt
A Red Hot Valentine's Day
Chapter One
"Do you have to go?"
Sophia rolled over on her side and stared as Quinton pushed from her and sat up. "Yes I do, Sophia. We talked about this. I need to go. My son is expecting me to help him with his toy boat."
His son was his excuse this time. . . .
Stop Sophia! His son is important. You know that. She pushed up onto her hands. The covers slid down to pool about her stomach as her dark brown hair spilled in a mass of unruly curls. She hated her hair, but at this moment it provided a much needed veil against Quinton's eyes. She stared as Quinton pulled up his breeches and slid the button through the holes at the waist. He was beautifully built; stocky with a broad chest and large powerful thighs. He certainly did not spend his days idly. Her brow pinched tight. What did he do all day?
"Don't give me that look, Sophia! You know how much I hate that look."
She tore her gaze away from him but she couldn't keep it away. Her gaze snapped back as he pulled his cotton shirt over his head, hiding his hairy chest from view. She so loved to play with the tiny curls as her head lay on his shoulder and she listened to him breathe. She loved those moments . . . skin to skin.
He tucked his shirttail into his waistband.
He did need to go. She simply hated that they never did anything besides this.
"Pardon my behavior, Quinton. I simply wish you didn't always rush off right after bedding me. It makes me feel . . . well like futter is all you came here for." Tears welled up in her eyes and her heart pinched.
"Not true, Sophia. I enjoy your company. You are my lady. I simply need to headhome; Gretchen will only entertain Jake for so long before she needs to head home to her family. You know that."
A deep sigh pushed passed Sophia's lips. Dash it all, Sophia, stop being so childish. She settled back on the mattress and watched as he buttoned up the top buttons of his shirt. He has family obligations and I do not. He needs to go and you know that.
"I will see you tomorrow, my lady. You know one day you will be precisely that."
Her lips curved into a smile. Indeed, yes, she wanted to be his lady. The lady of Elm Place. It had been almost a year since he started pursuing her and almost two since his wife's death. Surely he wished for a mother for Jake sooner rather than later.
Unease flipped her stomach. Things between them always seemed a bit off . . . not quite true between them.
He walked toward her and bowed his head, "Until tomorrow, my lady. Shall we picnic on Crest Hill?"
"Oh yes! That would be delightful." Maybe she was wrong. They did spend time doing things out of the bed. They simply seemed so far removed.
Quinton pulled on his tall black boots and buttoned his waistcoat. He grabbed his deep gray greatcoat off her chair by the door and draped the garment over his forearm, smiling down at her. "You are beautiful Sophia. I am still in awe that you have cast your favors on me."
He leaned in and kissed her hard on the lips. She relaxed into the harsh pressure and little waves of light flashed to her eyes. Her toes curled and she grabbed hold of the loose fabric on his arms.
"Mmmm."
His lips pulled away and his hands grasped hers on either side. He pulled her fingers from the cloth of his shirt. "Enough, Sophia. I shall never leave if you do not let go."
He stared down at her and attempted to frown, but his lips kept twitching up.
"Ha! Would not leaving be so horrid, Quinton?"
He turned away from her and walked toward the door "We have discussed this before, Sophia. I will see you tomorrow." His boots sounded on the wood floor of her small cottage. The door opened and then he was gone.
She lay and stared at the cracks in the plaster ceiling. A small part of her didn't really believe Quinton was interested in her for his lady. Why would he be?
She had made the mistake of allowing him to bed her. She grinned. A wonderful mistake.
Her hands trailed down her stomach to the swollen lips of her cunny. His cock fit in her so wonderfully. Her fingers wandered farther down her slit to the bed linens and the large wet spot she lay in. That spot was one of the best sensations she ever experienced. A mistake all the same.
George had taken her innocence on their wedding night, but they never reached the kind of bliss she had with Quinton. She barely knew George before he went off to fight for king and country.
She squeezed her eyes shut. What did he look like? His short blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, and his tall lean figure came to mind.
She sighed. She wished she could remember him better. She was thankful she had this home because of him. She had no dowry and could not have survived longer living with so many siblings underfoot. He had rescued her and gave her this life.
She rolled onto her side and sat up. Well she certainly could not spend the rest of the day in bed. There were things to do in this life she had, and the sun and dirt were calling to her.
Alistair sat across from Anne in her overdone plush carriage. He shook his head and stared out the window. How in damnation had she talked him into coming with her to the country, to the estate of a gentleman whom he didn't know?
He inhaled long and deep through his nose, hoping to settle the unease in his stomach.
A Red Hot Valentine's Day. Copyright © by Jess Michaels. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.