Today Linda is not whining about the weather. I'll take up the slack on that: a whingggeparty because they shut down the schools again. Bleh.
I keep trying to load Winfree's cover and blogger is thumbing its cybernose at me. You should just go look at the Sammy's link below, okay? AND COMMENT HERE, when you can, even though Blogger's not sure it wants you to. Don't let it win the fight and leave a comment. Beat Blogger; Win books.
Southern Heat: Sizzling Snippets from Memories of Us by Linda Winfree
Wow, it’s hot—100 degrees in the shade here. It’s heating up over at Samhain Publishing, too, with the release of Hearts of the South book five, Memories of Us. Here are a few hot snapshots from Linda Winfree’s latest release, due out today.
1) Celia at a sex-toy party? He lifted the bottle of oil. Vanilla-almond, self-warming personal lubricant. His gaze fell on the boxed dildo, images popping off in his head.
Celia, naked and spread-eagled on gold sheets, her silvery blonde hair spilling over pillows edged with heavy cord. Her lips open on a moan, skin glistening with oil, the scents of vanilla and almond heavy in the air.
2) She stared at him for a long heartbeat before lifting her chin once more, fitting her mouth to his. Sensation exploded in him, awareness of the warm suppleness of her lips, the fine bones of her hands beneath his, the incredible heat of her form along his. She kissed him, a soft brush of lips, followed by a firmer caress. He held her hands tighter and kissed her back, teasing the line of her mouth, coaxing her to open to him.
3) He dropped the papers on her desk, his gaze straying to her face. With her features relaxed in sleep, she looked younger, more vulnerable. He followed the line of her mouth, remembering the lush fullness moving beneath his, opening to him. Ah, damn it, how could one kiss ruin everything? How the hell was he supposed to work with her now? Every time he looked at her, memories of the feel, the smell of her, would plague him.
She stirred with a murmuring sigh, dark lashes lifting to reveal a dreamy expression. They fluttered down again, a smile lifting the corners of her luscious mouth. She stretched, camisole pulled taut over her breasts. He tightened his hands into fists, palms itching to fit to those curves.
4) His hands itched to grasp her shoulders, rub down her arms. “I’d also hate to miss the opportunity to discover who you really are.”
She stared at him, cynicism washing her eyes. “I see you found a way to pretty it up. Admit it. You want me in your bed.”
“I’d be insane not to.” Probably insane for pursuing this, but doubly insane not to explore the possibilities vibrating between them. “Admit you want to be there.”
5) He lowered his head and kissed her again, slow nips along her lips rather than the all-out ravaging they’d shared before. Surging closer, she explored his shoulders and arms, loving the play of muscle beneath her fingers.
His hands eased up and down her back, circled her waist, smoothed up her ribcage to the edge of her bikini top. His lips held hers, clung, let go. He smiled, stroking his thumbs along the line of her ribs.
Satisfaction cascaded through her. Tonight, he’d be hers. Fantasies and images kicked off in her mind—her head tossing on golden pillows, her body arching into his as he thrust into her.