Angel Nicholas spent her childhood writing angst-ridden poetry and hiding behind romance novels. Now the mother of four children and one beautiful grandchild, fiction is still her refuge. Excessive caffeine fuels her typing. The splendors of Idaho inspire her muse. When she's not torturing her characters, Angel can be found in the nearest coffee shop or shoe store.
Death is preferable to what awaits in her forgotten past…
Coffee is the only thing standing between Grace Debry and a straight-jacket since she gave up swearing in honor of her foster mom. A rash of break-ins make her wonder if caffeine is enough. Especially when the notes left behind make it personal. Her brand-spanking new life is more nightmare than dream-come-true.
All Matthew Duncan has wanted since hiring Grace is to have her in his passenger seat, his arms, and his bed. As they grow closer, the feisty brunette proves to be a handful—one Matt is happy to hold. He’s determined to give her the happily ever after she stopped believing in years ago. Unfortunately for Grace, it will take more than Matt’s considerable resolve to keep her safe.
Three’s a crowd—not that he cares. Every move she makes, every breath she takes … he’s watching. Waiting to reclaim what he lost.
Angel Nicholas pens another wildly passionate romantic suspense with Dying for Love.
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His hand on the small of her back, he escorted her out of the restaurant. He leaned a fraction closer, dropped his chin and inhaled. She smelled like heaven. A sweet musky scent that was pure woman. She turned and smiled, her hair brushing across the back of his hand like strands of silk.
“Thank you for dinner. And for the ride.” Her gaze went to his Harley. A woman after his own heart, lusting after power and a rumbling engine. He could get into that.
Handing her the spare helmet, he threw a leg over and settled on the low seat. He pulled on his helmet and started the bike, then held out his hand to help her on. He turned to make sure she got on safely. Grace grinned like a kid in a candy store, her eyes glinting behind the visor.
She climbed on like an old pro, hands clutching his sides while she settled. Her legs came to rest alongside his, her arms wrapped around him, and he revved the motor. The bike vibrated between his legs, and he could have sworn Grace moaned. Her arms tightened around him.
She did things to him he wouldn’t have thought possible. He’d perfected self-control. Or so he’d thought, until she came into his life.
Matt eased away from the curb, Grace clinging to him like a second skin. About as close to heaven as a guy could get. He rumbled to a stop at a red light and glanced back.
Grace raised her head and met his eyes. Cheeks pink, lids half-closed and moist lips parted, she was the picture of a woman on the verge of an orgasm. He bit back a groan. What he wouldn’t give to tip her over the edge.
He lifted his visor and Grace followed suit.
“How about a ride before I drop you at your place?”
She nodded, eyes sparkling. He revved the engine again. She bit her lip and her eyelids slid down. Holy crap. A visual slammed into his brain of Grace’s sweet pussy pressed against the vibrating seat. Of course, she was naked.
Her hips shifted, her heat pressing against him. Her eyes opened, bright with arousal. Watching her was the biggest turn-on he’d ever experienced. Two more seconds of this and he’d be useless. He winked, slammed his visor shut and faced the intersection.
The light changed and he rumbled forward, slow and easy, muscles tight. Damn, he needed to get a grip. So what if the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen was hot, bothered, and wrapped around him like a well-worn leather jacket. He was a grown man, not some horny teenager.
The vibration of the powerful engine beneath him increased as he accelerated. He could have sworn Grace whimpered as she pressed closer, rubbing against him like a cat. Unable to resist, he revved the motor again. Her head dropped against his back. Her sweet, drawn-out moan reached him over the low rumble of the bike. The painful erection wearing the imprint of his zipper throbbed in time with his pulse.
Had what he thought just happened, happened?
Angel's Website: http://angelnicholas.com/