Love at First Sight and Crappy Proposals.
I’ve always loved romance stories where the hero and heroine fall in love at first sight, and have the most romantic proposals. Even before I met my husband I loved those stories. Then I met my husband and while it wasn’t love at first sight it was most definitely like at first sight.
We were a blind date. We met on Sunday for our blind which thank goodness was a group date, and went out by ourselves three nights later, and then again the next night. That night we knew we were it for it each other, and we were going to get married.
Fast forward two and half months and the church was booked, the wedding dress bought, the wedding invitations ordered and we still weren’t engaged.
Yes you read that right, we still weren’t engaged. In case I haven’t blown your mind enough already the wedding was in six weeks. It had become a running joke amongst our friends and family that he was going to get down on one knee just before the wedding and propose.
Valentine’s Day came and DH took me to one of the most romantic restaurants. I was positive that he was going to FINALLY propose. All throughout dinner I kept waiting. Here we were in an intimate setting with a roaring fire and everything a guy could want to make a proposal. And NOTHING. We left the restaurant and I was so disappointed. The temperature had dropped considerably and I was freezing so I practically ran to the car. Just as I got to my door he calls me to the front of the car and I hear a package rip open. I go to him, my teeth are chattering and he tells me, I’m not getting down on my knee but will you marry me. I mumbled yes, he shoved a ring on my finger then I bolted for the car door.
*Hey wait a minute I have to interject here…when I dropped her off at home that night her room was covered in rose petals and she had two dozen long stem red roses.*
So you made up for the crappy proposal by giving my sister money to do that..can I have my post back now?
Thank you…now where was I? Oh yeah…
It has been fourteen years this month since that horrible proposal, and while the proposal sucked it has made for a great story in our family.
Because my proposal sucked rocks, when it came time to write the proposal in Second Chance at Forever I decided I wanted to write the proposal I always dreamed of receiving, and then I told DH my heroine was getting my proposal. He laughed and then asked, but more importantly is she getting the marriage you got.
I thought about that and the story of Ryan and Morgan and I thought yes, yes they will have the marriage I have. It isn’t perfect, we fight, we make up, but most of all throughout all of it we love. And that is what is at the heart of this story. Ryan and Morgan meet, fall in love, and then are separated. There are hurt feelings and anger, but underneath it all is love. As they work through everything the one thing they can’t deny is that they still love each other.
I want to thank Lissa for having me on today.
Second Chance at Forever available in Digital Only February 1st 2013
When Morgan Sanderson left her grandparent’s anniversary party, she had no idea how much the previous week would impact her life. Four years later she’s living a content life, teaching literature and being the best mom she can be, even if she knows something is missing. That thing being the one person she can’t forgive and yet can’t get over.
The week Ryan Cartwright spent with Morgan was the best week of his life until tragedy struck, one that changed his life completely. Four years later he discovers he’s has three year old twins with Morgan the one woman he’s never been able to forget and let go. Can he forgive her from keeping the knowledge of his son’s from him.
As they uncover the truth behind their separation, they discover the love they’ve always felt for each other is still there, but can they ever trust each other again.
Morgan relaxed in the hammock her grandfather had hung for her mom back when she was a teenager, far from the week-long house party celebrating her grandparents’ sixtieth wedding anniversary, reading one of her favorite books, Pride and Prejudice.
There was just something about Mr. Darcy that made her want to be Elizabeth. Completely engrossed in the book, she didn’t notice she was no longer alone.
She heard a twig snap and lifted her head, looking around for the noise. Her breath caught in her lungs. Her heart raced.
A modern-day Mr. Darcy had just walked out of her book.
He was gorgeous.
Tall, he stood at least six-foot-four, as he looked to be as tall as her brother, Case. His skin was golden brown from spending lots of time outside in the sun. His hair was light brown with streaks of blond, more from the sun than from any salon. It was his face, however, that captured her — all angles and planes, a strong jaw, and high cheekbones hinting at an Aristocratic ancestry. And then his eyes, so brown and piercing, they made her think he could look into her soul. He wore shorts and a tee shirt, showing a physique that said he took care of his body. The tee shirt pulled across his chest and was tight around the biceps, enhancing the well-toned muscles.
He stopped next to the hammock and looked down at her, like he was examining something under a microscope. She’d long since grown used to the way men looked at her and her sister, Brynn.
At five-foot-ten they were taller than most of the woman in the family. According to her grandpa, her eyes were the color of the purple-grey heather flower in Ireland. She also had no real chest to speak of. The running joke in the family had always been, she wanted a hope chest in the hope she would get a chest. As she’d played basketball all throughout high school and during her undergrad years, she wasn’t too upset about the lack of chest, it would have just gotten in the way of her jump shot. She arched an eyebrow at him as he continued to stare at her without saying anything.
“I believe the party is back toward the house, not out here.” Morgan’s voice was deliberately icy. She had thought, by isolating herself outside and away from the main part of the party, she could avoid socializing.
Mr. Darcy flashed a smile, one she was certain he’d used to get women to do what he wanted. He sat down on the log by her hammock, ignoring the frost in her voice. “Yes, it is and that’s why I am here. Why are you out here by yourself and not at the party?”
She ignored the smile or at least pretended to, “Because I don’t have to be. As long as I’m occasionally seen, I can do what I want.”
As he extended his hand the corners of his lips lifted, revealing dimples she hadn’t seen before. “Ryan Cartwright.”
She took his hand and felt the sizzle all the way to her bones. “Morgan Churchill.” The way her body was reacting to him was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.
“What are you reading?” He asked.
She held up her book. “Pride and Prejudice, hmm.” He then eyed the pile of books sitting on a stump by him. She watched silently as he read the titles, Sense and Sensibility, Emma, North and South, Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, Little Women. He raised an eyebrow. All of them were full of sticky notes and tabs, marking important places in them. “That is some reading you’re doing there.”
“Yes, it is some reading, so if you don’t mind I have to finish reading these books and complete my dissertation on the influence of nineteenth century heroes in modern literature by the end of the week.” Morgan went back to her book, giving him the illusion she’d just tuned him out, when in fact she was only too aware of him. He had an aura about him that made a woman dream of very naughty nights in his bed, one that screamed he knew all the secrets to a woman’s pleasure.
She had two passions, three if you counted her family — basketball and literature. Having achieved all of her basketball goals, she was now hard at work on her literature goal — to be a professor of literature.
She didn’t have time to be distracted by a real life Mr. Darcy.
He sat there a bit stunned at the way she had dismissed him. She was certain it was a first for him. After several minutes he stood and wandered away. She went back to her reading, breathing in a deep sigh of relief.
The next day, every time she looked up from her books, there he was staring at her, as though he was trying to figure her out. Considering how large her grandparents’ property was, this was no small feat. A part of her was a bit disconcerted by it, and another part of her was secretly thrilled. She’d managed to snag the attention of the sexiest man she’d ever met by ignoring him. Maybe all those lectures from her sister and cousins on how to snag a guy that she’d ignored, had sunk in.
Giveaway: I’m giving away a copy of Second Chance at Forever in either pdf, mobi or nook. Just leave a comment using the Rafflecopter.
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Bio: Heather Lire has been telling stories for as long as she has been talking, at least according to her mother. After years spent in academia Heather was encouraged to share the stories she was writing and sending to her sister with the rest of the world.
When she isn’t writing – which is never – she can be found attending whatever sport her sons are playing at that time, accompanying her husband on his photo shoots and playing online.
For more information on Heather and what she’s currently working on please visit her website www.heatherlire.com
Second Chance at Forever is her debut novel.
Places to Find her around the internet:
Hi there. I’m Roz, and you’ve never heard of me before, but that’s cool – hopefully that’ll change…some…day. I just recently self-published my first novel which is part of a series. Blood Memory: Book 1 (because honestly I couldn’t think of a better title) is a paranormal action/romance written book with a little humor mixed into it.
It’s based off of characters originally created on a role-playing message board I helped create – www.sanguineaffliction.com. It’s a tale of supernatural beings: werewolves and vampires, and I swear I didn’t just hop on the bandwagon because of all the sparkles and stuff in the main stream right now. The main character, Simon Huntington, was created back in 2004 and the others just keep cropping up.
Blood Memory: Book 1 is a story about intrigue, murder, and the lie within the truth. A ‘blood memory’ is a werewolf ability passed from gifter to giftee. This particular memory involves Simon Huntington and his partner Ellis Duban and they’re the center of a dark betrayal against the werewolf family packs: the Jamesons and Hammerthynns. Coincidentally, no one can remember the memory itself, only that they want to tear off Simon’s face whenever they see him. Inconvenient, to say the least.
Then there’s Vivienne Sena, the sole survivor of a massacre brought upon by the man she would eventually call father. A blood retribution against her family, Vigo Hammerthynn’s Pipers wiped out the Sena pack and left her an orphan, sparing her life for an unknown reason. Vigo raised Vivienne outside the pack, but as an adult, recognized certain abilities that made her indispensable to the Alpha Pipers – the group of werewolves who are bred as Alpha protectors, and related to the Jameson and Hammerthynn packs.
Together, Vivienne and Simon travel the globe to search out the real truth of the Blood Memory that no one can remember, but all Hammerthynns and Jamesons would die for. Led by Vigo’s only son, Viv’s adopted brother, and the Greater Pack’s Beta, Iov Hammerthynn enlists his cousin, and Viv’s secret lover, Commander Brian ‘Brig’ Jameson to kill Simon and bring back Vivienne to an almost certain death.
No one questions the blood memory. Period.
I’ve been writing about these characters on SA.com for years now – from their explosive beginnings and adding more and more characters and plot twists as time progressed. I love these people and there’s more of me in all of them than I’d care to admit.
Book 2: Awake will be coming out in the Spring, but Book 1 is available on amazon in both print and kindle format. Thanks for taking the time to read all this and you can find me at the following.
Website/blog | Facebook Author Page | Goodreads | Twitter
Married for 20 years with two crazy kiddos, Roz lives in Colorado Springs, Colorado with her USAF husband.
Leave a comment for a chance to win a signed print copy of Blood Memory. Make sure you use the Rafflecopter form.
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Hello friends of romance! I’m so excited to be here!
My debut novel, For the Love of a God, is released April 23! You can find it at Liquid Silver Books
If you love a sexy paranormal, full of love-starved Greek gods, then this is for you! My story was inspired by a trip to the local museum where I fell in love with a statue of one of the Greek gods. It was so beautiful, so manly, and I couldn’t help wondering what might happen if Greek gods were real.
I live near Toronto, Canada and am passionate about mythology (although I’m also partial to vamps!) I just love it when the geeky, awkward girl gets the hot guy, and I’ve made it my mission to see this happen in my books as much as possible. Please check out my blog
Conservator Maia Douglas is an expert on ancient Greece and its mythology. She would never tell anyone at the museum where she works, but she’s always had a secret crush on the mythical Eryx, Greek god of love. There is nothing she loves more than to tend to her favorite statue of him, and her nighttime dreams are filled with luscious images of Eryx making love to her.
One day, the peace at Maia’s beloved museum is shattered when a new director arrives. A man who looks exactly like her image of Eryx. As Maia watches, he manages to upset her ordered museum world, at the same time he inflames her with unwanted desire.
Maia does not know that her new boss is actually the god Eryx, disguised as a mortal so he may work in antiquities. Although he is the god of love, he has forsaken his sexual nature because of a curse that has killed any woman he’s dared to love. Though he fights it, Eryx is drawn to Maia with a force he’s never experienced in a thousand years. But can he convince her of his true identity? And can he protect her from a vengeful goddess who seeks her destruction?
Toronto, Present Day
Maia Douglas woke with a start. She looked around, disoriented. Then she remembered. She’d only put her head down on her desk for a minute. Her brown eyes bleary, she peered toward the clock on her office wall. Seven o’clock. “Dammit. Naps at work. Bad idea.”
It may have been after hours and the last tourist may have already been long gone, but she knew she was playing a dangerous game. One of these nights, she’d sleep right through and wouldn’t get her work done.
It was her fault for insisting on working late. She could work during the day like a normal person, but she loved the tranquility of the museum at night. Besides, she hadn’t been sleeping well lately anyway. Might as well work through the night.
She rubbed her eyes and gathered her wits. She took a sip of her cold coffee and stared at the wet spot on her blotter where she’d dribbled a little. “Ugh. Real dainty, Douglas.”
She pushed away from her desk. As foggy as she was, she knew it was the perfect time to do her preliminary inspection. She hated doing her work when people were milling about anyway. She gathered up her collapsible stool, a notebook, and her Holly Hobby satchel, the one containing her pencils and various tools of the trade. Thus armed, she stumbled out of her office.
Maia looked around the conservation office. All the other conservators were already gone for the day. No surprise there. She was the only one who kept such ungodly hours.
Taking the stairs up to the fifth floor, she made her way to the new Gallery of Greece. This part of the museum wasn’t open to the public yet, and the entrance was still shrouded by opaque drop cloths. She knew it wouldn’t open officially until it passed muster with the new director.
His Lordship was due any minute, and everyone at the Toronto Museum was nervous. There was a reason for it. Eric Lord’s reputation preceded him. He was from a family of museum experts, although she’d never met him in her travels. She’d read articles by his grandfather–—another Eric Lord–—when she was a student, and had been impressed with his keen insight into the ways of ancient Greece. But the current Eric Lord was known the world over for his slash-and-burn style of museum administration. She’d heard he was a downsizer, a ruthless one. Why, last year he’d eliminated a whole department at one museum in New York for their so-called inefficiencies.
Maia sniffed. “Well, Eric Lord’s not the only museum royalty around here. And no one knows this place like I do.”
Maia’s father, Dr. Jim Douglas, was the famed archaeologist whose work formed the basis of the Toronto Museum’s Greek collection. Maia had basically grown up within its walls. So if Eric Lord was planning a cull in Toronto, he’d be a fool to get rid of her.
Pushing aside the cloths at the entrance, she entered the Gallery of Greece. One of the cleaners was just finishing up in the gallery. She made sure to sashay around the trail from his wet mop. “Hey, Wally. How’s business?”
The older man looked up. “Miss Douglas, what are you still doing here? It’s Saturday night! How come a pretty girl like you doesn’t have a date?”
“Tonight, I have a date with Poseidon’s testicles.”
Wally pulled a face.
“They’re about to fall off,” she explained. “The statue, I mean. Poor guy has some nasty cracks on him. I’ve got to fix him up for the big opening.”
Wally just waved her away with a smile. “I’ll leave the fun stuff to you conservators. I’ll stick to my mopping.”
Maia made her way through the empty gallery, wondering why every word out of her mouth always seemed so awkward. But as she pulled out her collapsible stool and placed it in front of Poseidon and his cracked gonads, she didn’t worry. Staff at the museum had long ago ceased their speculation about Maia’s quirks. After all, she was Jim Douglas’s daughter. She was excellent at her job, which rendered her many quirks negligible.
She knew the collection of Greek antiquities so intimately they could have been siblings to her. Quiet, somber siblings. Certainly there was nothing she valued more. She was an expert conservator, specializing in marble sculpture. After she’d completed her studies, the Toronto Museum administrators had been falling over themselves to offer Maia the job. Sure, there had been enticing job offers from as far away as the Hermitage and the British Museum. But she knew she’d never leave her beloved museum. It was her second home.
It was her life.
Before she began her inspection of Poseidon, she walked over to one of the other sculptures. It was the statue of Eryx, the Greek god of love. She stood before him and sighed, letting her appreciative eyes rake over his nude body. Absorbing the warmth he created in her. Feeding off his beauty.
This was her ritual and had been ever since she was a little girl. Ever since her father discovered the perfect statue in a long-hidden cove in Greece.
She remembered her dad’s excitement after the find. He’d led her through the museum after hours. She could still hear the sound of her Mary Janes clicking on the marble floors. The museum had been shrouded in darkness, but Maia didn’t mind. Even at five years old, she already knew every square inch of the place.
“Come, sweet pea,” Dr. Douglas had said as he walked with her. “I have something new to show you.”
Green lollipop in mouth, she’d scrambled after him. She’d always loved these night-time walks. As a curator, her dad often brought her to the museum at night when the tourists had all gone home. He showed her all the ancient gold jewelry and terracotta pieces and told her wonderful stories full of myth and magic. To the little girl, being with her father was the greatest adventure on earth.
Especially since mother had left them.
“Is it a big statue, Daddy?”
“Life-sized. And in amazing condition. It’s as if he was just waiting in the cave, hoping to be found.” He motioned toward the entrance of the Greek gallery. “And he’s right through there.”
Little Maia had spotted him right away. The sculpture was the new centerpiece of the gallery and had been given a prominent spot. Her jaw had dropped open and her lollipop had tumbled to the floor. Jim had grinned and picked it up, glad his little girl shared his passion.
She’d stared up at the statue of the man. He was so handsome. The way the sculptor had angled his head made it feel as if he were gently smiling down at her. Maia had smiled back, immediately smitten.
Jim walked up to her and placed a hand on her back. He spoke in hushed tones. “He is the god Eryx, son of Aphrodite. He was in love with the mortal priestess of his temple. And she was…?”
“Chloe, silly. I know that,” she’d replied. After countless bedtime stories, she knew all the myths.
“Good girl,” he’d smiled. “And do you remember the story of Eryx and Chloe?”
“The bad goddess Nemesis killed Chloe because she was jealous.”
“He was sad. Forever.” She’d rubbed her little tummy. “Daddy, I’m hungry.”
He’d laughed. “Of course you are. It’s late, sweet pea. Let’s get you some dinner. We’ll come back and see Eryx again.”
Maia’s face had fallen. As much as her belly was rumbling, she didn’t want to go. She liked the statue of the beautiful, smiling god. Even though, all of a sudden, he looked a little sad.
What happened next, Maia had never told her father. Never told anyone.
As she had followed her dad out of the gallery, she’d turned to look at Eryx one more time. Because she was five, and because it had seemed like a fun idea, she’d poked out her green-stained tongue and wagged it at him.
The statue had winked at her.
Now, as an adult, she knew the wink was probably just the overactive imagination of a precocious, little girl. Perhaps the fleeting shadow of one of the pigeons haunting the window ledges of the museum. But it had felt so real at the time. And now, every time she came to work in the gallery, she made a pit stop before the statue of Eryx.
Just in case…
“You’re such a spazz,” she told herself as she pulled her long brown hair into a messy ponytail on top of her head, affixing it with two crisscrossed pencils. “Get to work.”
She turned and seated herself before Poseidon and let out a sigh. With a gentle hand, she cupped the water god’s balls and inspected the extent of the cracks. She’d have to fill them in a little, as well as beginning a general cleaning of the statue. He was starting to show his age.
Soon, between conducting her inspection and making notes, she was lost in her work, oblivious to everything else around her. Once again, she gingerly touched Poseidon’s testes.
“How about inspecting mine?”
Maia jumped when the deep voice whispered in her ear. She snapped her head around, almost wrenching off the statue’s balls in the process. “Who’s there?”
There was no one. Beyond the entrance, Wally was still mopping, but had headphones on now and was mopping to the music on his iPod. He hadn’t heard her cry. The gallery was empty, peopled only by the many statues.
And right in front of her stood the statue of the god Eryx, still bearing the same grin as when she first saw him years ago. The grin which now appeared decidedly randy from her perspective.
“You,” she breathed, feeling her heartbeat regulate after her scare. “If any of you old rocks could find a way to talk, I should have guessed it would be you.” Dismissing the voice as a symptom of overwork and stress over the incoming director, Maia turned back to Poseidon.
Even with her back to Eryx, she felt a warm sensation along her spine. As if she was being watched.
Doing her best to ignore it, Maia continued her work.
Within minutes, she knew it wasn’t working. Her back was burning.
She should have expected it. She felt the same way each time she was in the presence of the Eryx statue. It wasn’t just her love of antiquities making her heart palpitate each time she saw him. Ever since she’d thought he’d winked at her all those years ago, she’d developed a ridiculous crush on the gorgeous statue. In a way, she thought of him as her own.
Of course, he’d always been her favorite of all the Greek gods. She loved the stories about him and couldn’t help falling a little in love with him from an early age.
The statue merely enforced the feeling. She loved the perfection of it. The way his curls fell about his strong face. The clean lines of his muscled abdomen and legs. Even the enticing length of his marble erection, as if the sculptor had wanted him captured in a state of eternal arousal.
He was the sexiest goddamn statue she’d ever seen. Michelangelo’s David was an effeminate pansy by comparison.
She shook her head. It was pathetic, how she mooned over him.
She could never tell anyone Eryx was one of the reasons she’d chosen to remain with the Toronto Museum, rather than working for another. Since the first time her father showed her the sculpture, she’d felt oddly connected to it. It had been her inspiration as she planned her education and career. She looked forward to seeing him every day, even took extra shifts whenever she could. Just to keep an eye on him and make sure no other conservators got their mitts on him.
Let administration think she was just a devoted worker. She’d keep her strange infatuation a secret.
Frowning, she turned back to face Eryx. He looked so proud on his pedestal, so vibrant. As if he might simply walk off it. His shoulders were squared, and his face angled down toward the viewer. Although he was made of white marble, Maia had no trouble picturing what he might look like in color. Somehow, she just knew those thick curls would be honey blond. Those flashing eyes would be green and his nude body would be tanned. His generous penis could fill her, stretch her … a velvety pillar of lustful strength.
“Oh, man, I need to get out more.” She ran a hand over her hot forehead. “This place is playing tricks on my mind.”
She heard a deep, manly laugh.
Automatically, her eyes shot back to Eryx’s statue. Why was it the laugh seemed to come from his direction?
“Okay, I’ve had enough. I’m outta here.” She folded up her stool and walked right up to Eryx. “You don’t fool me, buster. I know you winked at me all those years ago. Now you’re talking to me? Maybe I am losing my mind, but if you have something you need to say to me, just get off your perch and say it. Stop messing with me.”
Then, feeling foolish for admonishing a piece of marble, she turned on her heel, and left.
For the Love of a God, available April 23 through Liquid Silver Books
Hi Lissa! Thank you so much for having me on your blog today. When you asked me about how it felt to finish See Me, my debut release from Loose Id, I had to sit back for a second and really think about that question. One feeling kept coming to the forefront when I contemplated that final day of writing. Confusion. Yep, I was confused as hell. I’d written three full-length novels prior to See Me, of which I’d never submitted, but had a notion that this book was going to be the one I’d let others read. I had made my note cards, written in my spiral notebooks about the important points I wanted to hit on, and dove into the character’s psyche with sheer bravery. So– I typed the last paragraph. The last sentence. Finally, the last word. Now what? Sure, I was going to let my best friend read the book. Yeah, maybe even some of the gals at work. But submission? Um, I guess so. I can give it a try. I sent my three little chapters and synopsis, never expecting to hear back from one of my all-time favorite publishers. And the days went on. I felt lonely without Sean to tell me I was safe and Abigail to give me the courage to face each day. I’d relied on their voices over the previous two months. It was quiet. Too quiet. I was confused. I’d let them have their happily ever after. Where was the narrator to go? What was my place? Then a tiny voice whispered in my ear. Her name was Marah. She asked if she could finish telling her story. Ella, her best friend, had given her the courage to ask me. I clicked on the Desert Seduction file in my documents folder and opened myself up to Marah once again. Her story is currently being formatted for submission to Loose Id. If that wasn’t enough to keep me confused, Lily whispered to me three days ago. Her story is also up in my que getting its polish to go at the same time. It’s funny how a writer, at least for this one, feels whenever a book is completed. I always feel a bit left behind, lonely, confused. The emersion in the work is so saturating that I forget what is going on outside my little hole in the world. When I do finally emerge, like a turtle from her shell, it’s frightening and bewildering. Thank goodness there’s always another voice ready to tell me its story. 🙂
I’m running a contest for anyone who wants to chat today. Leave a comment to receive a free copy of See Me and an Amazon gift card!
Abigail Swanson’s spirit has been battered, a body left for dead to recover to find fear and loneliness. Due to an abusive relationship, she is unable to feel the one thing she longs to have again. She builds a lucrative business specializing in the commodity she can’t afford to experience. Passion.
Sean Drennan traded his fists for a portfolio, but the cost was too great. Now, considered damaged goods, he’s unable to find employment. Desperate to gather some quick cash, he reluctantly agrees to take a job in the field guaranteed to make him sell his soul.
So what does a successful pornography entrepreneur do when her clients are demanding a tattooed hunk and her performers don’t fit the bill? She puts all her trust in an ex-con who has nothing to lose. Can he save her business and her heart at the same time or will his fighting ways leave him cold and lonely yet again?
For one voluptuous, scared woman it’s love at all costs. For one man it’s a new experience he’s more than willing to fight his way into. But can Sean and Abigail survive the dangerous ride?
See Me can be purchased at:
Loose Id | Amazon | All Romance eBooks | Barnes & Noble
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