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Blurb:
Five years ago, Brook’s tarot reading and dream premonition predicted his lover’s death so he left to protect her. On the morning of his cousin’s wedding, Delia and Brook meet again. Will their reunion bring love or danger?
Genre/theme: Contemporary, BBW
Copyright © Francesca Hawley, 2015
Excerpt:
Delia Heath took a deep breath as she walked toward the home
of the Linden clan from a large, roped-off parking area. If this joining
ceremony was for anyone but Mary Linden, she would have found a way out. But
Mary was one of her dearest friends in spite of the fact that she worked for
Brook, Delia’s ex.
Guests laughed and chattered as they made their way around
the house to the grounds in back where the ceremony would be held. She wanted
to mingle with them, but unfortunately she couldn’t because she was part of the
joining party. After smoothing her skirt carefully, she steeled herself for the
inevitable and braced herself to face him. Brook
Linden. The love of her life. The man who’d walked away over a tarot
reading and a premonition. She frowned. They could have faced any challenge
together, but he’d unilaterally decided she needed protecting so he’d left.
Damn macho idiot.
The door opened as she reached up to knock. Speak of the
devil and he appears. Why did he still have to be so gorgeous? He stood a couple
inches over six feet tall, with well-muscled broad shoulders. He wore navy
pants and a sky blue open-necked shirt. She could see a hint of his chest hair
which she’d always loved running her fingers through. She forced her gaze back
to his face so she wouldn’t stare at his narrow hips and hard abs. There were a
few more lines on his tanned face, but his masculine beauty was still there.
His full lips curved and his green eyes with impossibly long lashes, framed by
straight black brows warmed as he took her in.
Even now, after five years, she still felt her body react to
him. Her nipples beaded painfully and her pussy clamped on a thick cock that
wasn’t there. She raised one of her brows, waiting for him to say something.
Anything.
“Delia? Lord and Lady, is it really you?”
“Brook, who’s there?”
Mary’s call distracted him long enough that he stepped back
and Delia slipped into the house, ignoring him. She walked over to Mary and
enveloped her in a hug.
“I’m so glad you made it. I was worried I’d have to find
another bridesmaid.”
Delia grinned at the tiny, dark haired dynamo. “And suffer
your wrath? Never.”
“It’s so good to see you. Did you have a good trip? Couldn’t
you have come sooner?”
“I was working on a commission that was due yesterday.”
She smiled, not bothering to say she had no intention of
arriving any earlier than she had to. Nor did she intend to stay any longer
than she had to either. The less time she spend in close quarters with Brook
Linden the happier she’d be. Her feelings for him still stirred beneath the
surface and she didn’t want to get brushed off again. It would hurt too much if
he didn’t want her.
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