Hi Guys! I have to admit, a little bit of me wants to cry. I’ve been having so much trouble with this site and been talking to technical support from my hosting company so much it’s just … overwhelming. In a bad way. So … bear with me. This is especially why posts are going up at all sorts of odd (and late) times, and the site is or isn’t blocked, and it’s just … well not literally, but figuratively ruining my life. It in fact took me all day to even be able to access my own damn site.
Sorry. And that’s a horrible introduction to Shiloh Walker’s excerpt, but I’m hoping she’ll forgive me. (And that she’ll get it.) Anyway, Shiloh Walker is of course an author, and I like her as an author and as person. And for people-hating me, that’s saying something, right? 😉 So here is Shiloh with an excerpt of The Virgin’s Night Out.
Sloane Redding is the shy one, the timid one. The morning of her wedding, she’s dumped by the man she’d thought she’d spend the rest of her life with. Humiliated, she turns tail and runs, leaving Nowhere, Alabama for a job in the city. Sloane sets out to remake herself. She succeeds…on the outside. On the inside? Different story. She still the shy Redding. Still quiet, still more interested in standing on the standlines. But all of that is about to change.
The night before her brother’s wedding, she strolls in the lone bar in Nowhere wearing wicked red and she’s got one goal in mind: to show her ex-fiance just what he lost.
The night before his best friend’s wedding, D.B. “Boone” Cassidy walks into the lone bar in Nowhere, Alabama with one goal in mind. Get wasted. Former military, he’s spent the past few years as a security specialist and all around troubleshooter. It should have been easy to spot the trouble that night…a sexy woman in wicked red. It should have been easy. Yeah, right.
One thing leads to another and his plans to get wasted turn into a night with the sexy woman in red . Boone gets the shock of his life the next day when he shows up at his friend’s wedding to find out he’d just spent the night wrapped around his best friend’s little sister…and that isn’t the only surprise.
Warning screamed through his brain.
Boone needed to break this off—now—and get the hell out of dodge. Lock himself in his room, maybe in the shower and turn the water on—screw a cold shower. He’d skip straight to ice. If he was smart, that was what he’d do.
He told himself he’d do just that.
But her mouth…
It was soft. Soft and hesitant, brushing against his so quick and light, it could have been the touch of a butterfly wing. If she’d left it right there, maybe, just maybe, he could have finished this torturously slow parody of dance, gotten away from the soft elegance of her body and ended the night with a cold shower.
Except she did it again and the kiss was a little firmer this time.
He was in trouble.
Without even realizing it, he’d maneuvered them to the far edge of the dance floor and if there was any privacy in the place at all, it was here. The doors opened onto a deck and just as she would have kissed him a second time, he pulled away.
He registered the dazed look in her eyes even as he caught her hand. She had started to turn away but when he pulled her through the doors out onto the deck, she followed.
The part of his brain that was still sane wanted to yell at her. She’d just followed a man she didn’t know outside, just followed a man she didn’t know into the darkness where only a few other couples were lingering, and they were doing the same thing he was getting ready to do—take advantage of the dim light and the solitude.
But the part of his brain that was dying for a real taste of her was in control and he led her to the farthest, darkest corner and tugged her back up against him. A startled breath escaped her—he caught it with his mouth and then, because it had been driving him crazy, he tugged at her upper lip with his teeth. She had a top heavy mouth, the upper lip just slightly fuller than the lower one and he should have known he’d end up kissing her at least once tonight.
Her mouth parted under his and he pulled her tighter against him, not even bothering to keep up with the pretense of dancing anymore. He had the presence of mind to guide her hands up to his neck, to keep them from the gun he’d tucked into a custom holster tucked under his left arm, hidden by the flannel he wore half buttoned over a white shirt. He’d guided her hands the same way when they danced, but if this kept up…
Fuck it. He took advantage of her parted lips and stole inside, the taste of her hitting his system with explosive force.
Groaning, he backed her up against the fence surrounding the deck. He kept his left arm secure around waist, forcing her to keep her right arm where it was, around his neck while her other hand fisted in the front of his flannel shirt.
It wasn’t enough—Boone wanted to feel her hands on him, skin to skin. Would her hands be as soft and smooth as she was everywhere else? He was dying to find out.
And because he all but seeing himself stripping his shirt open, guiding her hand down to his chest…lower, he broke the kiss off.
Sloane’s head was spinning.
Her skin felt hot, tight and so sensitive, even the light brush of air of her bare skin and shoulders seemed erotic.
When he lifted his head, she didn’t know whether she wanted drag him back to her or shove him away and take off running. What she did was press her head to his chest and suck in much needed air.
“We need to stop,” he said, his voice starting as a rumble deep down in his chest.
She went to nod.
But the feel of his fingers playing along the length of her spine distracted her and she just shuddered instead.
“I’m already tempted to drag you to the hotel as it is.”
The gruff tone of his voice had her shivering—and his words made her knees week.
Calm, rational Sloane Redding knew the right thing to do was exactly what he’d suggested. Stop. She didn’t do this—dance with strangers, kiss them in dark, shadowy corners or make out with them where almost anybody could see.
Smoothing a hand down his chest, she felt the muscles of his stomach bunch under her hand.
His hand went to her hip, gripping tight. “Sugar, we need to…”
She turned her head into his neck and pressed a kiss there.
He swore and tangled a fist in her hair, dragging her head back as he kissed her, hard and fast, shoving one knee between her thighs. It forced her already short skirt up into indecent territory and she didn’t care. Sensation blistered through her at the feel of his denim-clad thigh rubbing against her bare ones and then, the hand on her hip dragged her closer, closer—her silky panties dragged against her.
Every muscle inside her tightened and she clutched at him, near desperation fueling her.
“Fuck.” It was a harsh growl against her lips and then she was standing on wobbling legs and he was two feet away from her.
He held out a hand. “This is insane. I’m at the hotel across the street. Do you want to leave?”
The words were delivered in a calm, level voice, as though he was asking her the time of day, or if she knew if it would rain tomorrow. And his eyes were glittering, harsh flags of color riding on his cheekbones.
Calm, rational Sloane was shouting up at her. Say no! Say no! Go inside. Right now!
She put her hand in his and told calm, rational Sloane to go to hell.