Thrill Seeker (Sinful in Seattle)

“You’re welcome.” He wound a strand around his finger, pulling lightly. “I bet you want that shower.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sure this is my cue to leave.”

In lieu of an answer, she reached for the gaping open vee of her nightgown. Despite its lack of style, she’d kept it for nights she wanted comfort. Nights she spent alone, or in bed with a man who eventually grew to view her as not much more provocative than the furniture. Pete had certainly never looked at her like this, his stare following her fingers as i

f he couldn’t wait to see what she revealed.

“I’d really rather you stay,” she murmured.

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Drawn Deep

Afternoon Delight Book 2

Do younger men turn your crank?

Drawn Deep

His cherry is hers for the taking, any way she likes it...

Kim O’Halloran is on a break from dating younger men. Then her erotic art class instructor puts a sexy, intriguing male model in front of her sketch pad and whoa, nelly, does she really have to give up cougaring now?

Nah. No reason to be hasty.

Better—or worse—yet, she discovers the man she wants to sketch with her fingers is also a virgin. And he’s asking her to corrupt him a time or two hundred.

Mechanic and secret millionaire Michael Montgomery may only be in his mid-twenties, but he knows who he wants. Kim’s self-confident and funny and she’s exactly the right woman to make him take his needs…ahem…in hand. All of them.

Screw the lousy timing. Boundaries are obviously meant to be overcome—in the bed, on the couch or against the car. Kim doesn’t mind teaching him, in vivid detail, how to please a woman, but Michael intends to teach his commitment-phobic lover a few things about love.

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Read on for an excerpt…

Chapter 1

“Artists, sharpen your pencils.”

Kim O’Halloran smothered a smile as she doodled along the spiral spine of her sketchbook. Sounded like her teacher had been watching a few too many NASCAR races, because he loved to start every class the same way.

Her pencil had been sharpened plenty, but this class wasn’t doing it for her. She’d been sure a class called Mastering the Art of the Erotic Technique would be exciting. Wrong-o. She’d taken it partly to fill a few hours on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights, and partly to ogle some hot, potentially young, male licorice without fear of pesky repercussions.

Namely, messy breakups, uncomfortable run-ins at work and disturbing encounters in her driveway when her ex stopped by to make sure she was “healing okay”.

She’d healed and had the scar tissue to prove it. After this many relationships going bust, only a sadist would willingly do something that would cause them pain. Her choice had been to develop a Teflon shell or be perennially doomed to disappointment.

Or she could take up drawing sexy nudes for entertainment. Assuming any ever showed up.

So far? Nada.

Oh, they’d had naked people to sketch, all right, like the rotund man with the rug on his chest. And back. And shoulders. Then there had been the orange-haired woman with abnormally large breasts. Despite the noteworthiness of her cleavage, Kim hadn’t learned much there except how to properly shade an areola.