Monday, June 4, 2012

Late Monday Moan ~ Right Where I Need to Be

I'm late getting this week's Monday Moan up because well, I went to sleep last night after practically running all weekend long. Don't get me wrong, I had fun. I'll be posting about my weekend in a day or two (check on Wednesday), but right now is about the Moan! Right Where I Need to Be
The Wild Rose Press
Contemp, novel, m/f
Available here!

Logan Malone needs an acting job and fast. With his string of broken hearts, his professional life lies in shambles. To resurrect his career, he must audition for a television role which could be the job of a lifetime.

Cass Jensen needs an actor for her made for TV movie. The previous actor dropped out, leaving her stranded. Her savior shows up looking sinfully sexy and totally right for the part, but what part is she auditioning him for - her movie or her bed?

Temporarily forgetting her visitor, she opened the door to the ice-blue guest room. “What the…” Her jaw dropped. There in all his naked glory, totally at ease and unaware, stood Logan Malone. He grabbed her fuchsia towel and wrapped it around his toned buns. Her mouth watered. She willed her heart to stop thudding so loud.

He turned slowly, giving her a tantalizing view of his sculpted back and legs. “Hi.”

Cass snapped her jaw shut. How did the man pull off casual in such a heavy situation? She spouted the first thing that popped into her head. “You always parade around in pink towels?” Oh crap. That sounded stupid.

He dipped his head. A wicked smile curled the corner of his mouth. Cass tried not to fan herself. Did the heat kick on? “I prefer blue or green, but I make do with what’s available.” He winked. “Enjoying the view?”

She nodded and licked her lips. Enjoying? Try having one of the most exciting daydreams of her life. “Well, then Mr. Pink. I’ll let you get dressed. I hate interruptions.” She turned to leave.


She froze. The sound of rustling came from the room. “My manly blue towels are in the wash.” Forcing her feet to move, she stepped down the hallway and took a deep breath. At least she had a centerfold image to fantasize about later. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, there stood Logan in nothing but unsnapped blue jeans. The hunter green elastic of his boxers showed above the open zipper. A sprinkling of crisp hair led down into the V of his faded denim. Desperately reigning in her desire to marvel at his body, she redirected her attention to his face. “What do you want?”

Logan licked his lips. His eyes burned with flecks of amber and sage. She couldn’t look away from his intensity. Her cheeks flushed. He said only one word. “You.”

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