The Legacy of Buchanan’s Crossing
Contemporary Romance with strong paranormal element. Hot, but not erotic. WEBSITE OWNER WARNING … EXCERPT BELOW WITH ADULT CONTENT.
Warding the Crossing has always been Cayden Sinclair’s destiny. With her beloved Gran growing weaker, it’s time the little witch took her place. Juggling substantial curves for her frame and an inconvenient inability to control her power has always been a serious challenge. But not until discovering her fated Keeper is the extremely hot, tragically clean-cut insomniac who’s ignored her for months, does she truly fear failing her legacy.
Now that he’s finally on the road to the top with an offer from a big developer, Clint MacAllen can’t allow his struggling construction company to be threatened by a vicious nightmare, or his inexplicable attraction to a goth clerk working the graveyard shift at HandiMart—no matter how potent they are.
J. Milton Developments has its own agenda for Buchanan’s Crossing, and they’ll spill blood to get it.
A short excerpt:
Catching up with her was easy. Not bending down to kiss her would have been tough. Not pulling her into his arms, impossible. He wondered later what had pushed him past the point of no return—whether it had been her taste, her scent, or the passion of her temper.She tried to push him away. He pulled her closer, pressed his mouth to her moist lips with greater demand until they parted. The kiss, sweet and hot, burned through him. He loosened his grip on her shoulders, held her head with one hand, massaged the ass that had been tormenting him since he’d first laid eyes on it with his other. Her hands slipped around his back, sliding over his new T-shirt, then lower, tugging, pulling, rubbing, driving him beyond crazy. They must have taken a breath in there somewhere, but he couldn’t remember when.He wasn’t aware they’d moved until his knuckles brushed against something solid and cold. He blinked, recognizing the rear panel of his truck in spite of the darkness. The parking lot light must have burned out while they were busy. The thought slipped away as he glided his fingers across the silky skin of her shoulders. He oh-so-lightly trailed them lower until they made contact with the lace trim of the corset. He slipped his fingertips beneath it while his lips left hers to taste the spicy skin below her ear, then her throat. A groan escaped from deep in his chest.“Whoa, big fella.”Her voice was too low to be convincing, and the heat of the whisper in his ear had the opposite effect of the words’ intent. He nuzzled his lips in the top of her cleavage and inhaled. A new scent mixed with the fresh green rain he found so irresistible and soothing. And soothing wasn’t the word for it. The raw edge of it bypassed his brain altogether, shooting straight to his aching—“Clint, please. We’re standing in a parking lot.”Her voice was still low, but it meant business. He withdrew reluctantly as the actual words sank in and the truth of them registered, more or less.Right. Standing. Outside. He could fix that. Would have to, if he interpreted her tone correctly.