STOP DRAGON MY HEART AROUND

 

An Excerpt From: ROMANCING THE RECLUSE

Copyright © MICHELLE M. PILLOW, 2006.

All Rights Reserved

Along one of the stone ledges a man rested on his back, his leg draped over the side. His dark-brown, chin-length hair was pushed back from his face. Samantha felt her breath catch. He had great features—strong, chiseled, rugged. She glanced around the area, almost expecting to see a camera crew. The man could easily have been a model. A partial growth of facial hair darkened his chin, framing the most incredible lips she’d ever seen on a man. A feeling of peace washed over her as she watched him, as if this was what her legs had led her to see—this man, at this moment, at this special place.

He was well dressed in black slacks and a tight crimson shirt, but not pretentiously so. She let her eyes roam over his tight form, lingering on the outline of his muscular thigh and delectably sculpted hip. Samantha took a deep breath, feeling a tingle in her stomach that soon sprouted into full on arousal. Her nipples became hard, sensitive peaks, reminding her that it had been awhile since she’d been laid.

Who are you?

Eyeing his firm chest, she paused in her perusal. He didn’t appear to be breathing. Maybe it was the fact that she’d just left the CPR class, but she stared at his chest for a moment to make sure he was all right. A knot formed in her stomach, replacing the sudden wash of desire that had come over her. His chest wasn’t moving.

Samantha glanced around. There were only a few people on the platform and no one stopped to help the poor man. She looked, but didn’t see any police officers that she could call for help. Almost panicked, she hurried forward. Shaking, she reached for his chest, letting her fingers hover over where his heart was without touching him. The platform, was quiet—suddenly too quiet. Everyone had disappeared and she was alone with him. She had little time to wonder where everyone had gone as she lightly touched his arm.

“Sir?”

He didn’t move.

“Ah, sir?” She pushed harder. At her shove, his arm fell to the side, lifeless. “Oh, gawd! You’re not breathing, are you?”

He’s not going to answer you, Samantha.

Samantha licked her lips, whimpering as she laid her hand on his chest. Her fingers shook as warmth seeped into her hand and she felt a faint heartbeat. His temperature was high for someone out in the cold weather without a sweater. That was something. It appeared like he hadn’t been unconscious long.

“Okay, sir, just relax. I can do this,” she said, knowing the man probably couldn’t hear her, but feeling the need to reassure him nonetheless.

Oh gawd, Samantha, are you crazy?! Are you really going to do this? Didn’t the book say to use a protective shield between mouths?

Well, her conscience argued, he doesn’t look like the type of guy to have a weird disease.

That’s stupid! You can’t tell that by just looking at a person.

Shut up and save him already!

Fine.

Fine!

“Great, now I’m arguing with myself. I really am insane.”

Despite the stupidity of it, she couldn’t let the man die. Not when it was within her power to try and save him. Besides, things like AIDS couldn’t be passed through saliva. Then, looking at his still face, so handsome and strong, all thoughts of self preservation fled her. A desperate need to save his life washed over her and she couldn’t resist it.

Samantha took a deep breath, pinched the stranger’s nostrils shut and delicately pressed her lips to his to blow air into his lungs. Shaking, she pulled back. She’d forgotten to pull down his chin. Opening his mouth wide, she tried again.

Don’t die on me, sir. This day has already been bad enough.

His lips were warm, almost too warm as she breathed air into his lungs. She felt his chest rise beneath her hand. A soft, low moan sounded as she blew a second time. Samantha froze. She didn’t make that noise.

The man’s eyes popped open. They were a magnificent, soulful dark brown tinged with threads of gold. The color matched his gorgeous hair. Her mouth was pressed tightly against him, open and poised to give him a breath, and her hand was still on his whisker-stubbled jaw.

Samantha gasped, feeling as if she breathed in his warmth and life. He moaned a second time. The strange sensation of it curled within her and she tried to pull back, but the feel of a hand sliding over her hip just as his tongue reached forward to swipe between her lips stopped her. His palm flexed against her as he curled his fingers along her waist beneath her sweater. Heat shot through her from his light touch and she was too stunned to move.

 

 

 

An Excerpt From: TIPPING THE SCALES

Copyright © MANDY M. ROTH, 2006.

All Rights Reserved

The second Gennie disappeared someone slid their arms around Keren’s waist. Her gut reaction was to rip the unwanted added appendages off both herself and the person. Holding back, she took a deep breath in. She fought the urge to vomit as the man’s smell assailed her.

“Mmm, you must be a model,” he said. “A woman as tall as you with an ass like that can’t be anything but.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Keren’s breath caught in her throat as the man slid his hands over her hips. Nothing about him excited her. His hot breath was laced with the smell of liquor and the liberties he was taking weren’t acceptable. Twisting around, she glared at the man. His hair was slicked back from his pale face with so much gel that she wasn’t sure if it was sandy blond or just caked full of stuff. It looked as though it would provide ample protection from head injury in the event of a bike or in-line skating accident. It had to be hard enough to bounce anything off of. If he didn’t stop touching her, she’d see if his helmet hair would reflect her foot.

He gave her a lecherous smile. She narrowed her gaze, doing her best not to strike out at him and knock it away. It was hard. “I’d really rather not dance right now. Thanks though.”

“Tu as un beau nez.” His horrible pronunciation of the French language only added to his creep factor rating. His choice of phrases enhanced that tenfold. The man was a lounge lizard extraordinaire and was on her last nerve. Never a good place to be.

Deciding that she’d placated him enough, Keren smiled, still resisting the urge to ram her fist down his throat. If he dared to leer at her like that again, she wouldn’t hold anything back. “Does that normally work for you?”

“What?” he asked, caressing her arm with the back of his hand and making her feel as if something was crawling on her. She shuddered. His touch sickened her. Often demons had that effect on her. Keren wasn’t sensing any present but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Every now and then, a demon would slip past her natural, inborn alarm system.

“Does what work?” he asked.

“Telling a woman she has a beautiful nose with a piss poor accent.”

His mouth opened but nothing came out. Thinking she’d bested him, Keren turned her back to him to head to a table. He seized hold of her ass, digging his fingers into her cheek hard enough to leave a bruise. All too late, she realized that he was certainly no ordinary human male.