If You Can

Savi watched him with an odd sense of satisfaction as he tossed the shirt to the floor, then toed his way out of his socks and shoes. His belt and shorts were next, and when he stood in front of her in nothing but his boxers, still straining with the erection that had started back at the hotel room door, he paused. “Those too,” Savi said with a shrug. He shook his head, and dropped the boxers. He was… incredible. Harrison Cole was covered all over in that rich, honey brown tone, tall and solidly built, with mouthwateringly chiseled arms. His chest was mostly...

Deep, chest rending sobs pulled Renata from the fitful sleep she’d finally found, hours after the commotion downstairs. She was so emotionally scattered that she raised her hands to her own face at first, to make sure the mournful sound wasn’t coming from her. Next, she reached for Taylor, who’d fallen asleep amidst pained, traumatized sniffles in Renata’s arms. She was quiet now, and sleeping still, but the slivers of moonlight across her face from the parted blinds showed that slumber hadn’t necessarily given way to peace. Her normally unworried, innocent face was lined with tension, and her lips were moving...

{Sample contains spoilers for book one in the series, Catch Me If You Can}   “He’s Taylor’s father.” For a lingering moment, those words hung in the air, garnering no response. Hot tears pooled in Renata’s eyes as she swallowed the urge to let them fall. It wasn’t a good time for tears. She wished Quentin would do something. Yell, scream, curse her out… anything had to be better than the look of cold disgust twisted into his handsome face. He was perfectly still. So still, in fact, that Renata wondered for a second if he was even breathing, but then he finally exhaled, and...

From book 2/3 of the "If You Can" series, Release Me If You Can. He was up the stairs, bypassing the bathroom to grab a change of clothes before he doubled back for a shower when the door swung open, and the object of his thoughts stepped out. Quentin tried to avoid her, but they ended up colliding anyway, and horror filled his chest when she yelped and reached for her injured shoulder, while trying to keep her towel pressed to her body. “Ouchhh, shit,” she groaned, closing her eyes as she sucked in a calming breath. “Oh my God.” “Dammit.  I think...

What the hell am I doing here? I look so stupid right now, Naomi thought, as her second knock went unanswered. Unwilling to knock again, she wiped errant tears from her eyes and turned away from the door. What would her life had been like if it weren't for that night? Maybe instead of being in someone else's hallway after midnight, she would be in her own bed, cuddled close to a husband, with two kids tucked between them. Maybe she could have a normal life, free of looking over her shoulder, free of fear. Maybe one of her “baby ballerinas”...

[ unedited, subject to change. enjoy :) ] Relax. Relax. Relax. Naomi silently repeated those words like a mantra until her head, heart, and lungs caught up with each other and obliged that command. This wasn’t the time to freak out. Her freedom depended on not freaking out, so she ignored the throbbing pain in her ankle and went back to work. As Naomi stepped onto a busier street, lined with the seated patrons of numerous cafes, she mentally thumbed through her list of suitable contingency plans. She needed to get back to her hotel, where she wouldn’t have to worry about standing...

(this excerpt has not been edited for grammar/spelling, but HAS been edited to remove spoilers. Enjoy!) It was the sound of music, pumping from the classroom where Naomi hosted her classes that brought Marcus to the front of the gym. Curious, he stepped into the area meant for parents to watch their kids during performances, and what he saw in front of him froze him to his spot. Naomi was obviously mid-routine, and soaked in enough sweat that Marcus suspected she’d been repeating it since she left the office. In black leggings, a black sports bra, and black ballet shoes, Naomi was...