Although nothing had changed his core values, experience had re-shaped him, redefined who he was and what he wanted out of life.
Sam Bradley w/a McKenna Sinclair
Once I was more relaxed, I found my mind drifting back to the handsome man with the chocolate colored curls more and more throughout the day. I’d wanted him so badly this morning.
I didn’t want to anger the grief-stricken constable who was bemoaning the senseless way Sarah had died, alone and exposed to the cool autumn evening.
This remarkable, feisty woman moved him like no other, and he wanted her. But he’d promised himself he wouldn’t go there, wouldn’t go to sex as the default when things got awkward or complicated.
Damn, he wanted to punch something. No, not something. He wanted to punch out Spaulding.
I wanted to talk forever or maybe crawl through the phone to my favorite spot on his lap. But right now, just knowing I’d been given another chance, nothing else mattered.
Follow Me (work-in-progress)
“What’s the matter?” Jill’s heart jumped into her throat. She had to get a grip if she wanted to others to believe she was okay, trustworthy, normal.
Pops spoke in French—the language of Rafe’s momma—and that meant no more questions unless you wanted to see the buckle end of his belt.
“What do you want? Why did you pull me over?” His body stiffened like a package of frozen chocolate chip cookie dough.
Even now, the vision of her in that tub had the power to make him want to laugh and groan at the same time.