Welcome my Guest Blogger Jorja Lovett!
She has a sexy new western romance out at Evernight!
After another doomed relationship, Laurie Sommers cocoons herself in the 'living ghost town' of Coyote Creek. But the arrival of Smith Masterson, her unrequited teenage love, torpedoes her cozy spinsterhood, setting her ablaze with a burning desire she believed long gone. A Texas Ranger through and through, there's no room for a relationship in Smith's life - not at eighteen and certainly not now, when he's investigating a robbery and the subsequent shooting of the Captain. Persuading Laurie to fake a relationship to keep his cover is the easy part; the hard part is restraining himself around her.
Author Bio - Jorja Lovett
In an all-female household, Jorja grew up surrounded by books and the idea of finding true love. She began writing her own stories at the tender age of fifteen but never actually finished a manuscript until last year when she joined her crit group, UCW. It's important to her that romances have a sexy hero, a quirky heroine and have that all important happy ending.
You can find Jorja on Twitter: @jorjalovett
“Did you know Smithy's packing heat?” David jerked his head in the direction of her love interest, presumably in an attempt to divert her attention from his flirting.
Laurie's eyes were bright as Smith opened his jacket to accommodate her, indulging in a leisurely perusal of his built bod.
Only when she had wandered over the muscular landscape of his thighs, did she get the joke. Slung low from his hip was a black holster complete with replica pistol.
“Apparently I can't be trusted with the real thing.” Amusement danced in those chocolate irises, whether at her noticeable fascination with the heat between his legs or the pretend gun, she wasn't certain.
“These guys are trained, professional in what they do. They can't have every Tom, Dick or Harry running about shooting all and sundry.” Laurie respected Buster's rules and expected Smith to do so.
“And which am I?” He let the coat fall closed, and she realized she was still staring at his nether regions. It was as well they hadn't put him in a pair of leather chaps or she would never have torn her eyes away.
“Tom?” He stepped closer.
“Harry?” Another step.
She licked her scarlet lips, the shadow of his Stetson falling over her cleavage. Yep, he knew what she had been staring at.
“Places, everyone!” Camille rapped the bar to garner attention.
“Where do we go?” Smith's arm curled around her cinched waist.
“The fight scene usually starts over a card game, so we need to blend into the background. There's a perfect view from the balcony if you want to see what's going on.”
Laurie tried to focus on playing her part and not the possessive hold of the handsome gunslinger at her side. Taking up position at the top of the staircase, they had a clear view of proceedings. Visitors crowded around to watch the drama unfolding between Wes and Buster, the dapper conman and the gnarly cowhand. Smith leaned over the balcony rail as the gamblers set up the card school below.
“How much?” he said without turning around.
“Excuse me?” She had a feeling she knew where he was going with this, but he didn't sound as though he was joking.
“How much for an hour in there?” He indicated the bedrooms with a nod of his head.
“Oh no, us saloon girls are here for company only. We talk, we dance, we get you to buy drinks, but we don't do that, sir.” If he was letting loose and getting into character then she was happy to play her part.
“No? The men of the old west respect that?”
“They do unless they want to enrage the barkeep.” She could imagine Wes's reaction to her being propositioned on his premises.
“I think I'll take my chances.” Laurie let out a squeal when he lifted her off her feet. Throwing her over his shoulder, legs and petticoats flying, he bundled her into the room.
“Sir, I think the establishment down the road would be more suitable to your needs,” she said, half-heartedly fending off the advances of the dashing stranger.
“I've got everything I need right here, darlin'.” His mouth ravaged hers, and the hard, passionate kisses were every bit as much of a turn on as the soft, lingering ones she had gotten used to. Hoisting her by the rump, he pulled her close until his hardness pressed into her belly. His lips and tongue pursued heedlessly, leaving her stunned by the sudden turnaround in the chase.
Minimum effort was required to free her from the restrictive corset. A quick tug poured her breasts into his greedy hands, and his insatiable tongue relocated to attend her rosy tips. “You're beautiful.”
She wasn't sure what the catalyst had been to change his mind, but she wasn't about to question his sudden horniness. Her skin was on fire with every lick; it cooled with the breath of his reverent words. The contrasting sensations had her spinning, the earth moving beneath her.
Lifting her onto the dresser, he pushed the cracked porcelain jug and basin to one side. He pulled her to the edge and wrenched her thighs apart. A deft hand snaked along her silk-clad leg and paused at the frilly red garter.
“What's this?” He stepped back for a closer inspection, and whistled. “I think we'll leave that there for the time being.”
“Why, is it turning you on?”
He grabbed her hand and rubbed it along his crotch, the rigid expanse answering her question. “What do you think?”
Had Smith finally decided to give in to wild abandon? She certainly hoped so.
As if reading her mind, he ripped her panties off in one, swift movement. She reached for him and stroked his hard bulge begging for release. This time he made no attempt to stop her.
His silver belt buckle wasn't so co-operative, and she struggled to open it. “Do you really need to wear this darn thing? It doesn't make it easy for a girl to get in there, you know.”
With practiced movements, he released the catch and whipped it out of his waistband. “Better?”
The green light had her popping the buttons of his fly open, his firm length nudging her. The slight contact through the cotton of his boxer briefs caused him to gasp. Desperate to see all of him, she pulled him free, his long, thick cock springing proudly from a mass of black curls. Slick in preparation, she anticipated its courtship.
The distant sound of shouting and tables being overturned briefly stalled her. Smith's cock jerked, impatient for tending. In compliance, she encircled him with her hand, grasping firmly. He planted his hands on the dresser and braced himself.
With the building friction along his shaft, he moaned and thrust. She cupped his sac, massaging until his tip glistened with the promise of what was to come.
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