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Jackie and the Beanstalk
Genre: Fantasy/Fairy Tale Erotic Romance
ISBN#: 9781419916526
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BLURB
Once upon a time in a strange land called Ohio, there grew a beanstalk. Not believing her eyes, or the fact her elderly dad is climbing the behemoth, Jackie, still in jammies, follows. Only to find a giant…holding her dad as if he were a squeaky toy.
Enter stage right — the wanted criminal. Tarn the Bloody is all that is earthy, pagan, uninhibited. He is called thief and murderer, but is so much more than that. And Jackie has a body he can't keep his hands off. To have Jackie, to love her, he'll brave any peril. To help Jackie rescue her father, Tarnn will have to confront a giant spider, gargoyles and the most powerful witch his land has ever seen.
Enter stage left — the prince. Calanah is so decadent, so hot, Jackie has to resist the urge to stop, drop and roll. He is masculine beauty, the essence of seduction, and he wants her, fuzzy slippers and all!
In a kingdom where magic rules and mythical creatures roam, not everything is as it seems. The price of love will be a soul living forever in Darkness.
EXCERPT
“I didn’t mean to hit you so hard.”
His smile was a slow curve of amusement. “Yes you did.”
“Yeah…I did.”
They shared a long, searching stare. A rush of awareness stole her breath as it had in the tree when he sat so close and rubbed her leg. There was something compelling in the way he made such rough hands touch so softly.
The stare continued while birds sang, treetops swayed and her heart pounded. His eyes seemed to delve inside her and see hidden things, how she loved late night storms, lumpy oatmeal, driving too fast and at that moment, more than anything, how she ached to kiss him.
His voice came rough and quiet, falling an octave so she felt each word stroke the backs of her knees. “I woke worried about you. Our forests are dangerous, especially for underworlders. Do you have another stone at the ready?”
“Do I need one?”
He set down his bow and leaned close. Thin braids and silky brown hair slid forward to brush the flushed skin of her throat. “I’m going to kiss you now. I can’t seem to stop myself. I leave the chore to you.”
A smooth stone dropped into her open palm and callused fingertips caressed her wrist as he brought his lips close, no more than a sigh away. Anticipation carried their shallow breaths. Jackie’s eyes began to flutter close. Before her lashes touched her cheeks, his lips pressed to hers in a kiss as soft and quiet as a secret.
Zero numbered the times Jackie had kissed a man with facial hair. She’d always assumed it would be like kissing a gerbil. Ballian’s mustache and beard felt incredibly supple, tickly soft. They heightened sensation. She’d never had a kiss less gerbil-like.
The kiss ended as gently as it began.
When she opened her eyes, he leaned back slightly, blue gaze hotter, a little unfocused. “You have dirt on your chin and nose,” he whispered. “Leaves and twigs are in your hair and you are absolutely the loveliest creature I’ve ever touched.”
He looked at her as if she were light after years of dark.
Ballian trailed fingers unsteady as her pulse down her cheek and across her jaw to cup her chin. With his thumb he opened her mouth. Then his head dipped and the instant his tongue touched hers, the stone fell to the ground, she clutched his hair and thunder rumbled in his throat.
He shifted until his upper body pressed against her breasts, braless under thin white cotton. The hard heat of his chest felt like a stone wall warmed by the sun.
Jackie’s hands flexed in his long hair as he tilted his head, sinking into her, deepening the kiss so she felt the full wet caress of his tongue. The strokes moved with languor, fondling the underside of her tongue, lapping in that warmer depth, and curling to skim the roof of her mouth.
Ballian smelled of air and sun and new earth where green things grew, as if he were part of the untamed forest around her.
His hand lifted, spanning the sensitive clearing behind her ear to the base of her throat. Jackie felt the soft pressure of his palm, the warmth of each individual finger, and within herself a swirly effervescence as if her insides had been scooped into a blender, pulsed on high, and poured back into her skin.
Close, very close, a hawk keened.
She forced open heavy eyelids. Bow in hand, he’d already rolled off her into a crouch.
“Who’s—”
He touched her mouth and shook his head, brows lowered, plaits dancing.
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