Friday, January 29, 2016

Fast. Hard. Deep. Gett'n Frisky #Romance #Books


It's my favorite time of the week--Frisky Friday--and we're turning up the heat with this fabulous excerpt from the incredibly sexy contemporary romance, In Between (currently on sale for .99), book one of the two part Dancing Barefoot series. 


Adult Content Excerpt...



Jacques led them around the corner before pulling her into a doorway of a random building, pressing her back against the bricks, and leaning against her. "Can I kiss you or do I need to wait for a more appro—"

She kissed him—hard—and silenced his words. Gentlemen were overrated. Senses overrun with wine, jetlag, and him, she fisted her hands in the material of his shirt to remain standing as her legs trembled with desire. 

He slipped his hand behind her neck and deepened the kiss with his tongue while his other hand moved behind her waist to hold her as close as they could be without getting naked. 

Her panties melted to her skin. She wanted to fuck him then and now. It didn't feel like they'd met only hours ago. Kissing him, holding him, being with him felt like the most natural thing in the world. 

"I've been wanting to do that since you looked up from my lap," he muttered against her lips. 

She laughed and opened her eyes. "Not my best moment." 

"You got my attention." He smiled before kissing her again. 

He tasted like wine and all things deliciously tempting. She teased her tongue against his, her hands moving over his shoulders with appreciation. She'd seen the muscles hidden beneath his shirt and wanted to sink her teeth into his skin. 

When he muttered in French before sliding his mouth along her neck, she smiled against his hair. She didn't need to speak his language to know they were communicating perfectly. 

"We are dangerously exposed," she said when a group of laughing strangers passed them on the street. 

He looked up, smiled, and framed her face with the palm of her hand. "I like living dangerously. What about you? What do you like?"

"I like this." She dropped the back of her head back against the brick and observed him through narrowed eyes. Hands still on his shoulders, she smoothed them down the front of his chest and grinned. "I like you."

He winked, sighed, and stepped back from her. "I don't know what I'm going to do about you, Jessica Moriarty. I sense trouble ahead." 

"I think you know exactly what to do with me, Jacques Sinclair." Feeling like a bird freed from its cage and soaring toward the sky, she grabbed his hand and yanked him back against her. "One more kiss before dinner." 

"You are the most dangerous kind of woman." He paused a fraction above her lips and looked her in the eye. "And I am the most dangerous type of man." 

"Are you? Why do you say that?" 

"Because I have nothing to offer and nothing to lose."

Heartbeat shook her eardrums. He was like no one she'd ever met before, mysterious and foreign with confidence oozing from his pores. 

"Neither do I. Not a care in the world," she lied. 

"This will be fun." 

"Oh, I have no doubt." 

He laughed again before pulling her back to the sidewalk and resuming their walk toward an unknown restaurant. "Tell me, Jessica Moriarty, why are you in Florence?"

It was obvious that he liked saying her full name, as if allowing the words to slide off of his tongue gave him pleasure. Or amused him. She couldn't tell. Ever since crashing into him, he'd been impossible to define. 

She wanted to know all of his secrets, his history, his dreams. Astounded by the idea of being so rattled by a stranger, she ripped her gaze from his face to focus on the street ahead of them. Night had fallen. People roamed about, street musicians played for money, lights illuminated arches, and she felt like her feet weren't touching the ground. 

"I am here to paint. I'm an...artist." Again she stumbled over the word. "I want to absorb everything about Florence from the art to the culture to the architecture. I'd like to go to Milan and Rome, too. I want to see it all, do it all, paint it all." 

"You are a traveler?" 

"First time out of the States," she admitted with a tinge of embarrassment. Hadn't Ava said they'd lived all over the world?

He moved his hand to the small of her back and guided her down a hallway toward a hidden away entrance to a restaurant off the beaten the path. "They make the best tortellini here. It's where the locals go, away from the tourists."

She laughed at the idea that, for now anyway, she fit the label of local. It felt good to squeeze into the crowded space toward two chairs vacant at a communal table. Well-lit, full of people who greeted Jacques as if he were their lost son, it was the opposite of romantic yet it felt intimate none-the-less.

Without asking what she wanted, he ordered for them in flawless Italian, grabbed a bottle of wine from the waiter, and squeezed next to her along the wall. He introduced her all around, again saying her full name with flair as if the sound of it gave him a rush. 

She knew without questioning that this would become their place, that they would be here together amidst these people again and again. Laughing from the simplicity of it all, she gladly accepted the too full glass of wine he'd poured for her. 

"I love it here." Her gaze settled on an elderly couple nestled at the far end of the table, their hands clasped between them and eyes full of affection for one another. 

"I had a feeling you would." He twisted to rest his back against the wall and leaned in for a kiss. "I ordered us both tortellini. It is really all they make here, which is why it is the best." 

She laughed against his mouth. "I love tortellini."

He kissed her, their laughter catching between their joined lips. 

They ate in much the same way. Taking a bite, drinking some wine, kissing in between, touching beneath the table, laughing with each other about everything from her plans to paint to his relationship with his sister.  

They couldn't stop touching each other. All the way to their apartment building they'd take turns pulling each other into alleys or doorways for stolen kisses that promised so much more. 

Jacques lifted her off her feet and carried her up the narrow stairway, his lips creating havoc on her neck. 

"Careful. You wouldn't want to slip and fall," she teased against his ear. "A fall like that could kill a man."

"Dangerous." He lifted his head and smiled. "What am I going to do with you, Jessica Moriarty?"

In front of her apartment, she slid down his body until her feet were firmly on the floor. His hands were already on her ass beneath the hem of the dress. 

"I'm sure you know exactly what to do with me." She turned long enough to unlock the door, enjoying the way his hands moved beneath her dress and over her skin. 

Not only was she confident that he knew exactly what to do with her, she had a few things of her own that she wanted to do to him. All of them involved nudity and inhibition. 

He kissed the side of her neck, his hands already unsnapping her bra and sliding over her breasts while she locked the door behind them. Dress pushed up to just beneath her shoulders, she took the initiative and ripped it over her head. He moaned his approval while his fingers toyed with her nipples. 

Nothing in life had prepared her for this complete surrender. She hadn't known she was capable of it. She pressed her hands against the back of the door and let him touch her as he pleased. Pushing her hair aside, he kissed the back of her neck before running his tongue toward her ear. One hand on her breast, the other moved over her abdomen and slipped beneath her panties. 

Smiling, she turned within the circle of his arms and unbuttoned his shirt. This wasn't going to be a one-sided affair. She craved the feel of his skin as much as he wanted to touch hers. Tossing it over his shoulders, she pressed her mouth to the center of his chest and indulged in the salty sensation beneath her tongue. 

He walked backward until falling on top of the discarded clothes on her bed. "You didn't get a chance to settle in yet."

"Oh, I'm settled." She reached for the zipper on his jeans. "This is how I settle into a new place, just shove it all onto the floor."

He raised an eyebrow, a laugh on his lips as he did as instructed. 

Her hand cupped his erection beneath his jeans before bending over to kiss his abdomen. The promise of his hardness drove her mad. 

His hands wrapped themselves in her hair as she yanked his jeans past his hips. Her mouth closed over the tip of his penis that was hard and throbbing against her lips. 

He had the body of a Roman God; the fact that he was Belgian meant nothing. Being in Italy, she preferred the Roman idea as she licked his length with deep appreciation for what it was about to do to her. 

"Jacques," she whispered against his abdomen, needing him inside her. Fast. Hard. Deep. 

Hands still in her hair, he pulled her up until their mouths fused with passion. In one move, he rolled her onto her back and slipped his hand between her thighs. 

Their gaze connected through the darkness as his finger moved inside her. He dipped his head to suck on her breast. His fingers moved in and out with a slow rhythm that drove her to the brink. Glancing up, he reached for his discarded jeans for a condom. 

"You came prepared," she whispered against his chin.

"I'm an optimist." He smiled in the dark while ripping open the package. 

No more words. He rocked into her with a force that pushed her deep into the mattress. She sank her teeth into his shoulder, grabbed his ass, and spread her legs wide. Harder and deeper he thrust into her, his hands propped over her head until he shouted with orgasm. 

She arched her back, body shuddering with ecstasy, eyes squeezing shut with the force of pleasure. 

He collapsed against her, face buried into the top of her head, and chest heaving with rapid breaths. 

She had no more strength, doubted her ability to move. From somewhere deep down in her soul, from the tip of her toes upward, a laugh rolled up and out until she quaked with joy. 

He propped himself up on his elbows, smoothed the hair from her face, and smiled. "Is the laughing a good thing?" 

"It's the best thing." She leaned up and kissed him, eyes wide open. "I want more wine, then more of you." 

"I can deliver both of those things." He winked before slipping himself from her, taking a minute to kiss each breast before pushing away from the bed and walking toward the kitchen counter. 

Lights from the street illuminated the room just enough for a beautiful view of his naked body. Hair a complete mess from her hands and muscles highlighted by streetlights and shadow, Jacques Sinclair was definitely gorgeous. Now if only she could think of way to keep him naked most of the time so she could indulge in the view as much as possible. 

Hugging her knees to her chest amidst the discarded clothes on the bare mattress, she grinned when he sat next to her and handed her the open bottle. 

"What are you smiling about?" He kissed her knee. 

"Ways to keep you naked."

"Maybe we should have a nudity policy whenever we are in your apartment." 

Her iPhone's ring broke through the silence of the room from where she'd dropped it beside the door. Laughter faded while she debated answering. She knew who it was and knew the right thing to do; she simply didn't want to do it.

Jacques looked toward the ringing. "Is that your boyfriend from the States? Are we having an illicit affair?" 

She looked at him then, wine bottle propped between them, and shook her head 'no.' Heart heavier than it had been moments ago, she touched his face with her fingertips. For the next four months this was home and nothing else mattered.  

"I picked the right apartment," she whispered.

He moved the wine bottle to the floor before pulling her onto his lap. "Have I sufficiently welcomed you to the neighborhood?" 

"I think I need more welcoming." 

He pushed her hair away from her face, eyes seeing more than she'd intended him to see in the moonlight, and kissed her with an intensity that set her heart on fire and drowned out the incessant ringing of the phone. 

The need to break free of the ties that bound her pushed her toward recklessness. She welcomed the rush. Senses on hypersensitive, she savored the freedom of being exactly who she wanted to be in this moment. The wine, the moonlight, the breeze from the window, the taste of him on her tongue, and the feel of his skin against hers obliterated everything else. 

From the back cover...
In between responsibilities and dreams...


Jessica Moriarty has always played by the rules, but for once in her life, she's doing exactly as she pleases. In between graduate school and 'real life', she's in Florence, Italy, indulging her love of art and abandoning inhibitions.

Meeting Jacques Sinclair rocks her off center. Whereas rules and living up to expectations have dictated her life, he is the opposite. A rebel. A photographer. A man who lives for the moment. He sweeps her up into a riveting romance that makes her question all she's ever believed to be true.

The drum of old commitments echo through her heart as time ticks away. Will the crush of 'real life' undermine the love she's found in between...?

**This is book one of the two part Dancing Barefoot series and does contain a cliffhanger. As book one, it is priced at only .99 as an intro to the series.**

Buy it now on 


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