A HIGHLANDER’S PASSION – On sale April 7, 2015
About the book –
Two of the wildest hearts in Scotland fight for their destiny in this searing-hot romance, sure to be devoured by fans of Jennifer Ashley’s Shifters Unbound series and Shelly Laurenston’s Pride Stories.
As a bear-shifter in a pack roaming the Scottish countryside, Bryce Matheson embodies brute force and untamed abandon. As a widower, he’s running scared. When Bryce attempted to open his scarred heart to another, she grew tired of waiting for him to state his intentions, and the unearthly beauty spurned him for someone who wasn’t worthy. But now that fate has conspired to set Kenzie Denune free once again, Bryce vows to finally win her love.
Kenzie is a witch who summons her powers to protect those too weak to care for themselves. After surviving an abusive husband, she swears off men—even men like Bryce, whose iron muscles make her knees weak, and who’s piercing eyes fill her with longing. Her life’s purpose is to help others. However, dark forces have different plans for her gifts. To save herself, Kenzie must team up with the shifter who has always stirred her soul—and trust in a passion powerful enough to set her blood aflame.
His eyes twinkled with humor in that damnable way they had. Although Bryce kept talking, his hands slowly roamed over her body, eliciting sensations she had no business enjoying. “Ye study plants, luv. Ye ken how rare the wild cherry tree is in the Highlands. I’d like Effie to enjoy its blossoms in May.” He kissed her beneath her ear and a shudder pirouetted through her body. “Would give me great pleasure to see her enjoy the chaste beauty of its dainty white blossoms.” He shifted to kiss beneath her other ear, his closely cropped beard causing more shivers to dance along her skin. “I’m thinking Hamish and I will plant a sea of bluebells and shy primroses around the trunk to charm the American.”
Much as she hated to admit it, the man’s weight on her and the flexing of his muscles fetched some verra sweet and sexy memories. Dinna be weak, Kenzie. Show him he means nothing to ye.
She slapped her palms against his sweaty chest to push him off. “If yer thinking of charming me with kisses and sweet talking, yer wasting yer breath. Now let me up. I need to check me bike. See if I can ride it the rest of the way.” Her fingers eased across the inked designs on his warm skin. When did he get these tattoos on his pecs? Dinna look at his chest. His face. Look at his face, Kenzie, for God’s sake!
His hands covered her breasts and one of his disarming sexy smiles spread, showcasing snowy white teeth, the front two overlapping halfway down, adding a boyish allure to an otherwise perfect face. Why did he have to be the one to make her yearn, the one she dreamed of in the night, and fanaticized over during the day? Why him?
“Get off me, ye worthless excuse for a man.” His erection poked her abdomen and angered her all the more. How dare he? “Are ye naked beneath yer kilt?”
His dimples winked when he flashed a sexy-as-hell smile. “Ye ken I am. Ye, above all, ken how I dress and undress, me bonnie blue-eyed and brown-eyed woman.” He bit her lower lip, sucked on it fer a few intense seconds, and sighed before he rolled over. “Get up, then. I’ll see ye get to the American’s house. Me truck is up ahead.”
Mad as a hornet, she stood and brushed leaves and grass off her clothes before she marched up the hill to her bike. “No thanks. I’d sooner ride with the devil hisself as to get in a vehicle with the likes of ye, Bryce Matheson.” Ye and that massive hard-on ye just had pressed to me.
“Kenzie Denune, the mere sight of ye still sets me heart to tripping. As soon as yer through mourning Duncan, I mean to woo ye.”
Nothing the clod might have said could have angered her more. When she’d handed him her heart fourteen months ago, he’d backed away, claiming his deep love for his deceased wife kept him from caring the way he should. He’d tried softening the blow by telling her she deserved more. As if she were a bampot who would fall fer such foolish nonsense. Now that she was in mourning herself, he was chomping at the bit fer her to forge ahead with her life. Well, she was moving on and her journey didna include him as a traveling partner.
“Dinna hold yer breath waiting. A man only gets one chance with me and ye threw yers away.”
“Surely a good-hearted woman such as ye can see when a man is sorry fer the terrible mistake he’s made and grant him another go.”
About the author –
Vonnie Davis, who studied English at Penn State, likens herself to a croissant: crusty, wrinkled, flaky—and best served with strong coffee. After a career as a technical writer, she’s spending her retirement playing fairy godmother to her characters, giving them their happily-ever-afters. Six fantastic, talented kids call her “Grandma” and brighten her world in so many ways. She lives in Southern Virginia with her husband, author Calvin Davis.
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