***Warning:
this book contains graphic language, sex, and mature situations. Not
intended for young adult readers.***
Author: Tara West
Series: Something More (#1)
Genre: Adult Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Shifting Sands Publishing
Release Date: July 19 2013
Blurb/Synopsis:
He told me to say when, but I can’t.
Not with Andrés. It’s so hard to say anything when he’s trailing
feather soft kisses down my neck, or when his touch sends hot
currents of lust rippling across my skin.
Then there’s the way he smiles and
offers soft words of encouragement when I’m creating art, almost
like he believes I have talent.
He’s not like any guy I’ve ever
met. Not like my ex-fiancée. Not like my father. He’s got me
thinking that maybe we can have something more. More than just lust,
degradation, and abuse.
And now I’m scared, because that
means I’ll have to trust him with more than just my body, but with
my heart, too.
Christina Duval
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Scene from chapter four...
“So how old are you today, mija?”
He asks as he takes a swig from his bottle.
A blush creeps into my
cheeks. I’ve heard Spanish speakers use “mija” as a term of
endearment. I regain my composure long enough to answer.
“Twenty-one.”
His eyes widen. “Wow.
Special night. How come you’re sitting here with me?”
I laugh. Sexy and funny.
Jackson would have never made such a joke. He always pretends I
should be flattered he picked me out of his throng of money-grubbing
admirers.
“I just broke it off with
my fiancé,” I say, while trying to shake off dark memories of fart
breath, sex and puking. I am so ready to move past Jackson. So ready.
I realize the only reason I’ve clung to this failing relationship
so long is because of my mother. But too bad. I take a long drink of
beer, before swiping my hand across my lips. It’s my life. Time to
live it how I want. Or so I keep telling myself. I only hope my
resolve will still be strong tomorrow after the beer buzz has worn
off.
Andrés is looking at me. I
read the uncertainty in his gaze as he holds himself ramrod straight.
“Why’d you break up?”
“He treats me like shit,”
I say. Then I avert my gaze, realizing I’ve said too much. I don’t
want Andrés knowing I allowed a guy to treat me like a door mat. If
he thinks I’m strong, maybe he’ll know better than to treat me
like shit, too. Maybe he won’t be like other guys. “I don’t
want to talk about him,” I say as I look at Andrés. I tilt my chin
and do my best to put on a brave face.
Andrés takes a step back,
smiles, and holds out his hand. “You want to dance?”
I can’t help but smile.
“Yes, but I’ve had a few drinks and I’m a bit wobbly.” I
point down at my heels, which have become the bane of my existence. I
make a mental note to throw them in a dumpster as soon as I get my
hands on a decent pair of shoes.
“It’s a slow song,”
he says and nods toward the dance floor.
I follow his gaze, to the
couples clutching each other tightly while slowly moving to the
rhythm. I hadn’t noticed the music changed. It’s an old song by
Rascal Flats, something sappy that always makes me want to pull my
hair out by the roots. Maybe it’s because it’s hard to identify
with a song that talks about romance and forever, but I think I can
enjoy this song with Andrés.
I tentatively give him my
hand, and he pulls me to the floor. He wraps his arms around me as if
holding me is second nature. I let out a slow breath as I force my
stupid nerves to calm down. I’ve always hated being short. With
these heels, I’m barely five foot six, but as I lean into his hard
chest, pressing my head against his shoulder, I think we fit
perfectly together.
Another slow song, by
Carrie Underwood, follows. I wind my arms around Andrés’s waist,
relishing the feel of him.
He leans down, his breath a
hot whisper in my ear. “Christina, I’m usually not this open, but
when I met you at that gas station, I thought you were the prettiest
girl I’d ever seen.”
My heart soars as my brain
seizes on that thought. Okay, he obviously likes me. Awesome!
“I’m not usually this
open, either, but…” I pause as I bite my lip, silently cursing
myself for being so stupid. I’m about to say too much. I’m about
to make Andrés think I’m a total slut. And I’m not. In fact,
Jackson is the only guy I’ve ever been with. Well, the only guy
I’ve ever offered myself to willingly.
“But what?” he asks me.
I close my eyes and try to
channel the Christina from earlier this evening. The Christina who
speaks up for herself and tells people exactly how she feels. Even
though what I want right now is very, very bad, that voice inside me
is telling me to take it. I open my eyes and I can see the lust in
his dark gaze reflecting back at me. I know he’s feeling exactly
how I feel. I steel my resolve and summon the courage to speak. “I
want to go home with you.”
A former Texas high school teacher, I
enjoyed coaching the writing team and even the hectic deadlines that
came with running the school publications. After taking a break to
raise my baby girl, I now work from home as a cover artist.
In my spare time, I loves to read,
exercise and spend time with family and friends. I contribute the
cover art for my Whispers Series and have designed covers for over
500 other books.
Please visit me at
http://www.tarawestauthor.wordpress.com/
or www.tarawest.com where you can
check out my Whispers series and sample my artwork.
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