Ivy Westlake, thought to be a demure young lady, comes alive at her friend’s hacienda in Mexico when she discovers the Flamenco. Her wild side is unleashed in the sensuality of music and dancing. She will not allow her father to force her into a marriage of convenience back East, so she runs away with the dance troupe.
Jake Agee, cowboy, horse trader, loner, has carefully built a life with no commitments. That life explodes in his face when Ivy dances. He doesn’t know she’s run away until he spots her performing in a small California town. He battles his desire to have this woman against his well-honed sense of independence.
Jake and Ivy perform their own style of pas de deux throughout southern California until their passions ignite in a desert cave in the middle of a thunder storm. Jake fights his growing love as Ivy fights her craving for their erotic pursuits. Jake’s long lost brother suddenly and mysteriously surfaces. Will this appearance tear Jake and Ivy apart? Will it destroy their love?
R- RATED EXCERPT
The drawers dropped.
He groaned. Her dancer's body, one long graceful line from head to toe, reminded him of a painting he'd seen in San Francisco. He'd been wandering along Market Street near the Palace Hotel and caught a glimpse of a beautiful naked woman through a window. When he went to investigate, to his embarrassment he discovered he'd entered an art gallery. A painting—a woman rising from a pond surrounded by thick woods. Now he stared stupidly at the very image of the woman in the painting, at the real life woman's pale translucent flawless skin. He had the living breathing Ivy here before him, not unobtainably flat on a canvas.
His palms itched to cover her full white breasts. His body flamed hot wanting the feel of her dark rosy nipples rubbing against his bare chest. And in his mouth. His clenched jaw ached. He growled deeply in his throat at the insistent throbbing of his cock, at the thickening inside his pants. Ravenous to touch her, her breasts, her belly, the dark triangle below it, he swallowed, suddenly nervous.
He lifted a hand to her hair, slipping his fingers through it, fluffing the damp strands out to spill down her back and over her shoulders to teasingly cover her breasts. The woman in the painting, her hair was like this. He'd stood so long in front of the painting that the gallery proprietor had to cough to get his attention. At the time he believed he'd never see a woman's hair like that in the painting. But he was wrong. It was here, within his reach, rich and thick and wildly curling around her breasts, her nipples peeping through. Fingering the length of the waves drifting over her neck and shoulders, his hands shaking slightly, he reached the round cushions of her breasts. His breath caught in his throat as he brushed the backs of his knuckles down the center of her body.
His eyes widened to take it all in, his mouth watering to taste her. His lips softened, his breath rasped. He heard her sharp indrawn gasp and a moan echoed so deeply inside her he could feel its vibration on his fingers. Glancing up, he saw she was watching with fascination as his fingers skimmed around her breasts finally reaching their tips.
She looked up at him then, her lips parted in anticipation, her eyes swimming with desire.
"Mm," she sighed shakily, pursing her lips, her body quivering, her eyes glazed and dreamy as he drew the backs of his fingers over her.
His only reality was his hands on her body, on her hot skin. Curving his palms around her, he caressed her breasts, her neck and shoulders. He'd never made love like this, had no plan of seduction. Yes, he'd had sex before but never with the feeling that this time would be momentous. He wanted it to be good for her. If he was going to take her innocence, he didn't want her to regret it.
He leaned in, their lips meeting, soft at first, just a gentle brush.
"God, Jake." She groaned into his mouth.
Their lips parted momentarily, then his kiss turned savage, his tongue plunging into her slippery mouth and intertwining with hers, filling her until he felt breathless and weak. Her fingers clutched the back of his shirt, nails digging into the skin beneath. The sharp sting kindled a spark in him. His hands raked through her damp hair, cupping her head in his palms, holding her as he moved over her lips, taking control of her mouth.
He caressed her shoulders and neck with his thumbs, nibbling at her brow and eyelids, nuzzling her ear and, with repressed ferocity, he bit her earlobe.
"Jake," she murmured repeatedly. She pulled frantically at the front of his shirt, clumsily unbuttoning it. "I want to feel your bare skin," she demanded, her voice lying low and husky. As the shirt fell open, her hands grazed across his chest followed by the hot softness of her breasts. Crying out at the contact, she kissed his shoulder. Her lips moved down, following her fingers as they skimmed over the light hair covering his chest, following the trail directly to his belly button.
He stopped her hand from going lower. Stupid son of a bitch.
Buy Link for Jake and Ivy:
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Stay tuned for Wooing the Librarian, Pres MacKay's story out on October 20, 2014
The Long Road to You, Nick's story — Coming Soon
Sensual fantasies were locked in my mind for years until a friend said, "Why don't you write them down?" Why not, indeed? One spiral notebook, a pen and the unleashing of my imagination later, and here I am with more than a dozen books published.
The craft of writing erotic romance has become my passion and my niche in life. I love every part of the creative process — developing characters, designing the plot, even drawing the layout of physical spaces from my stories. My careers have been varied — third grade school teacher, bookkeeper, secretary — none of which gave me a bit of inspiration. But now I'm lucky enough to write romance full time — the best job in the universe!
Lost and Found
His Hers & His
Soldier, Come Home
A Promise at Dawn
Jake and Ivy
Wooing the Librarian
Home to Stay (coming soon)
The Long Road to You (coming soon)
I'll Be Your Last
Jane Leopold Quinn
My Romance: Love With a Scorching Sensuality