SHOPPING FOR AN HEIR by Julia Kent is available now! You do not want to miss getting your hands on Gerald and Suzanne's second chance romance today. Plus - SHOPPING FOR A BILLIONAIRE'S WIFE is on sale for .99c for a limited time! Find out more below, and enter to win a Kindle Fire!
About SHOPPING FOR AN HEIR
The former Navy Seal is a chauffeur by day, artist by night, so when hotter-than-ever ex-fiancée Suzanne Dayton interrupts his nude model sculpting class to serve him with inheritance paperwork from a man he’s never heard of, he assumes it’s a joke.
Turns out the joke’s on him. There’s just one catch. A big one.
And it might be Suzanne — in more ways than he ever dreamed.
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A flash of movement under a streetlight in
the distance, at the nearest light, caught Gerald’s eye.
Suzanne.
Sprinting, he left Declan befuddled,
calling out his name, until the light changed and he watched as Suzanne marched
forward with that confident walk of hers, shoulders squared as if she were
still in morning formation and wore a uniform, wiping her mouth with a tissue
and muttering to herself. He knew how the curve of her spine felt under his
palms when she stood like that, the supple feel of the paradox between soft
skin and hard bone a delightful feast for his fingers.
“Wait!” he called out, unsure and unbidden,
moving on pure instinct. He needed to touch her. Would die without making that
single, simple connection. Not just in an intimate sense. The need was more
than that.
Suzanne got to the curb and stopped. She
did not turn around, her body poised, waiting.
Panting with the burst of exertion, his
brain firing on all cylinders, he caught up to her and slowed down at the last
steps, moving to her, pulled by a force that drew him in. His front settled
against her back, his tight cotton t-shirt brushing against the thin linen
jacket she wore, the friction erotic and full, sensual.
As his palms touched her elbows, her arms
at her side, he inhaled with precision, measuring her.
She did not move.
“Suzanne,” he murmured, chin close to a
stray hair that curled out from her updo, resting against the fine, creamy line
of her neck. With longer hair, the sharp, jutting bones of her jaw stood out,
giving her the look of a Viking princess. In heels, she was exactly his height,
setting him off-kilter. He wasn’t a short man. In fatigues she was always four
to five inches shorter. In service dress, her shoes gave her a two-inch lift.
He liked being equal. Liked it a lot.
“Please,” she whispered, the word spiraling
off into the dark night, as if the street lights beyond them were pulling her
voice to them.
Taking her reaction as something other than
rejection, he left his hands where they were, closing the inch gap between
them. She was cool and regal, his hot, thick chest pressing into her back.
“Please what?” he asked, knowing this could
go either way, but not caring, because right now— as each second ticked by— he
had more internal calm than he’d had in ten years.
Even as desire burned bright inside him.
“Please don’t.” He froze.
“Don’t what?” Tempted to step back, he held
strong. Her please carried a weight
to it, a meaning he needed to discern before acting. All impulse and no
analysis would end this in a flash. Time was his friend. Patience.
Hesitation.
He had to go against instinct.
“Don’t start something you don’t intend to
finish.”
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About Julia
Kent
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent
writes romantic comedy with an edge, and new adult books that push contemporary
boundaries. From billionaires to BBWs to rock stars, Julia finds a sensual,
goofy joy in every book she writes, but unlike Trevor from Random Acts of Crazy, she has never kissed a chicken.
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