Excerpt:
I never was one for dreams.
Nightmares, yes, but never any of the good stuff dreams are made of. I didn’t
fly or soar or relive sweet memories of my parents. I didn’t dream of knights
in shining armor or fairy tale endings. I only got the heart-stopping, panic-inducing,
sweat-slicked visions of being hunted, chased, mauled, beaten and left for
dead. So when I dreamed I was on the hot sands of Miami Beach, drunk with
sunscreen fumes, the sun a leaden weight on my stomach, I knew something was
up. I shifted, wondering how long I’d been lying out frying myself, when I
heard a moan. Then a large, warm hand cupped my breast.
My eyes flew open.
Sexy day-old stubble covering
a chiseled jaw surrounded the fullest lips I’d ever seen. Long, dark lashes
rested on high cheekbones and before I could think what the hell, Buck’s ice-blue eyes opened and met mine. In the
next instant, he raised himself up on one arm, pushed my knees apart with his
leg and settled between my thighs. Unmistakable rigid heat pressed against the
nothing barrier of my panties and his boxers.
He dropped his eyes and
growled low in his throat.
My back arched and my eyes
fluttered shut as his thumb glanced across my nipple.
“Not a good idea.” My pathetic
attempt at a protest through flared nostrils and a clenched jaw sounded more
like a plea any porn star would be proud of.
“Layna,” Buck breathed,
leaving open-mouth kisses along my neck and collarbone.
Forcing myself not to reach
for him, my fingers curled into the sheets. “Buck.” I tried to issue his name
in warning, but I sounded breathless.
His lips, his teeth, found my
ear.
“Aaaahhhh.” Jeez, that wasn’t
playing fair. He felt so good that in about two seconds I wouldn’t have any
self-control left. “Stop,” I begged, squeezing my eyes shut.
Instantly, he stilled.
Okay, think, think, think.
Use your head, use your head. Oh my God, his musky, sexy scent, his body heat,
his legs against mine, nothing felt better. But I had to stop him. I wasn’t
doing this. I couldn’t. Inhaling, stealing my resolve, I opened my eyes.
Piercing, haunted eyes were
staring down at me with so much need that I knew. I knew I was seeing the real
Blaze Johnson. Not the warrior, but the man.
I touched his cheek. “Are you
okay?”
Chest heaving, he said
nothing.
My fingers skimmed across
features that had been hardened by responsibility. He looked weary and
vulnerable and stoic and I wanted him more than I wanted my next breath. “Talk
to me.”
“I made you a promise.” Anger
tainted the deep quiet of his voice.
He’d made me a lot of
promises in the past twelve hours, all of them impossible. My hands wrapped
around his neck. “I know.” But I wasn’t sure I cared. I pulled myself up to his
lips and kissed the corner of his mouth.
Elbows straight, muscles
tense, Buck didn’t move.
My fingers curled in his
hair, my tongue swept across his ear, and I feathered kisses along his jaw.
The muscles in his neck
strained.
I pulled at his bottom lip
with my teeth.
His body came crashing down
on mine, his forearms went to either side of my head and he caged me in. His
lips parted with a fierce groan and he took control like he owned me.
Buck’s kiss wasn’t a kiss—it
was a possession I felt to my very soul. Every breath in his presence was one
more step away from who I was before I met him. And when his hips surged
forward for one torturous tease of all he had to offer, my lips tore away from
his with a desperate cry of need. I didn’t want to stop this. Not anymore.
Raising his head, trapping me
in the intensity of his stare, he rocked forward again.
And fear splintered through
me.
This was what we would be
like together. My desire, his need, my desperation, his promises, I felt every
inch of it and I felt my heart—slipping away into his arms. Arms that would be
gone in a matter of days. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t give him the last
thing I had to give. There would be no coming back. “I can’t do this,” I said
frantically.
“Do what?” Buck ran his nose
across my cheek and kissed below my ear.
“Casual sex.” It was easier
than explaining I had nothing to give.
He met my eyes. “I don’t want
casual sex.”
Book & Author Details:
Impossible
Promise by Sybil Bartel
(Impossible Promise #1)
Published by: Carina Press (HQN)
Publication date: March 23rd 2015
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
(Impossible Promise #1)
Published by: Carina Press (HQN)
Publication date: March 23rd 2015
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Synopsis:
Three years ago, Layna Blair listened in horror over
a telephone line as her parents were murdered. When the killer said she was
next, Layna panicked and made a deadly deal—his secret in exchange for her
life. She’s paid the price every day since, becoming a prisoner in plain sight.
Marine Sergeant Blaze Johnson offers Layna a way
out—her freedom, his rules, no questions asked—and she takes it, despite
knowing what her keepers do to people who get too close. She doesn’t know Blaze
is fighting his own demons or that beneath his warrior façade is a man on the
verge of breaking.
Embarking on a wild revenge mission with Blaze and
his smooth-talking best friend, Talon, is not what Layna signed on for. But
attempting to run when Blaze has made no secret he intends to make her his is a
reckless mistake. With the killer closing in, it’s up to Blaze to save them
all—and to Layna to realize that she’s risked the one thing she can’t afford to
lose.
Book one of two / 93,000 words
Heat level: Steamy; not for under 17, it has open
door sex scenes.
Facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1590597631161137/
Purchase:
AUTHOR BIO:
I
grew up in Northern California with my head in a book and my feet in the sand.
I dreamt of becoming a painter but the heady scent of libraries with their
shelves full of books drew me into the world of storytelling. I love the
New Adult genre, but any story about a love so desperately wrong and impossibly
beautiful makes me swoon.
I now live in Southern Florida and while I don’t get to read as much as I like, I still bury my toes in the sand. If I’m not writing or fighting to contain the banana plantation in my backyard, you can find me spending time with my handsomely tattooed husband, my brilliantly practical son and a mischievous miniature boxer…
But Seriously?
Here are ten things you probably
really want to know about me.
I
grew up a faculty brat. I can swear like a sailor. I love men in uniform. I
hate being told what to do. I can do your taxes (but don’t ask). The Bird
Market in Hong Kong freaks me out. My favorite word is desperate…or dirty,
or both—I can’t decide. I have a thing for muscle cars. But never rely on me
for driving directions, ever. And I have a new book boyfriend every
week—don’t tell my husband.
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