Cast The Cards - Release Day
Blitz
By Shyla Colt
Romantic Suspense
Date to be Published:
8/2/2013
Savannah escaped a kidnapping but her best
friend Clark—the man she secretly loved—didn’t. Guilt-ridden and changed after
the event, she gives up her dream of teaching and earns a position in the F.B.I
as a profiler. When she’s targeted by the very same kidnappers wishing to
finish the job, she is armed with her skills, backed by her first love’s twin
brother, and forced to revisit her demons when Clark’s ghost
appears.
After his twin’s murder, Officer Carey
Carr loses more than his brother. Savannah avoids him for a decade. Her
return—and her steaming-hot body—stir brand new feelings in Carey. But Clark’s
reappearance has Carey battling to control his primal desires around the woman
his twin loved.
As Savannah and Carey, with Clark’s help,
embark on a cruel game of cat and mouse with the kidnappers, the twins come to
an understanding that involves Savannah and more pleasure than the three of
them have ever dreamed.
EXCERPT
Savannah pressed the cold glass of iced tea to her
neck. It was a sweltering summer, and her parents’ air conditioner was on the
fritz. Which chased her over to Carey’s while they worked on their case after
hours. I wonder if Clark has something to do with that. The case had
become an all-consuming driving force for both of
them.
Frustrated by their inability to move forward
they’d opted to take a break.
“When are your parents going to get the air fixed…
not that I mind.” His gaze raked over her. “I like the view.”
“Flirt. I just spent the drive over here sweating
like a pig. I doubt I’m much to look at.”
“Don’t underestimate your appeal.” The gravelly
quality of his voice touched her in places long unattended. Clearing her
throat, she attempted to refocus her attention on anything other than the sexy
man who sat across from her in a white tank top and a pair of sweats. No matter
how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep her gaze from his
tats.
“Okay, I have to ask. What do the tattoos mean?”
“Aaah. The million dollar question.”
“Is it a secret?” Intrigued, she sat up
straight.
“No, just personal.” Red appeared in his cheeks.
“It’s a memorial.”
“That makes perfect sense. Why are you
embarrassed?” She arched an eyebrow.
“It’s for the three of us… I sort of felt like we
died with Clark.” He placed his hand on his arm. “The rose
in the Rosary represents you.”
“I’m on your arm?” she whispered. Touched, she covered her
mouth.
“I couldn’t do the piece without you. It didn’t
feel right. When I first started work on this I knew I wanted us all on a
rosary, connected despite everything that went down.”
“Carey.” Unable to find the right words, she shook
her head.
“See, this is why I didn’t want to talk about it.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“What have you been telling people all this time?”
“That it’s a memorial tat for my twin brother. They don’t ask
for more detail after that.”
“Am I the only one who knows?”
“Yeah.” His jaw was tensed. He refused to meet her
gaze. Setting her drink on the table, she walked over to him and sank
onto the arm of his chair. She traced the rosary that faded into the background
of the brightly-colored, old school sailor designs that surrounded it. There
were red stars, a red and blue swallow, and a set of dice.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He tilted his head up. Their gazes
locked.
“Want to hear something funny?”
“Sure.” He nodded, his voice equally
soft.
Stepping back, she pulled up the hem of her tank
top and lowered the top of her cutoff shorts. A delicate brown branch
with three blossoms, black, red, and pink, graced the curve of her hip.
“For us?”
She
nodded. A slow smile erased the pinched, austere expression he’d held moments
earlier. He extended a finger and traced over the pattern. She sucked
in a breath. A searing heat spread through her body. Her pulse kicked
into overdrive and her muscles tensed. His finger crept lower, brushing the top
of her shorts. Holding her breath in anticipation of more, she watched him
through half closed lids.
“Savannah?” Raspy and uncertain, his question asked
for permission.
“Y-yes.” The words were out before she could over
think them. His head dipped and his tongue shot out and caressed the path his
digit had traced.
“Oh.” Her nipples hardened and her pussy grew moist.
Years of neglect combined together to overthrow her objections. Desire exploded
inside her like a bomb, superseding her common sense. Latching her fingers onto
his shoulder she allowed her head to fall back, enjoying the feel of his mouth.
He nipped her skin, moving across her waist. The stubble on his chin tickled
where it grazed her delicate skin. He paused at her belly button and dipped his
tongue inside. Her stomach muscles quivered, and her toes curled in her
flip-flops. He pulled back, blowing on her wet
skin.
“Carey.”The wobbly words made him look up.
“Do you want me to stop,
Vannah?”
“N-no.”
Holding her stare, he brought his hand up and
cupped her pussy. She gasped.
“Still okay?”
Unable to speak, she nodded. He began a massage.
“Oooh.” In need of relief from the pounding rhythm of need
emitting from her core she spread her legs to allow him more room to play.
“That’s it, baby, open up for me.” Her
legs trembled. The rough material pressed into her cleft. She rocked her hips
against him. Needy mewls slipped from her mouth.
“It feels so good,” she moaned.
“Are you going to come for me, Vannah?”
“Y-yes.”
“Mmm. I can feel the heat from your pussy through
your shorts. Are you going to let me taste you after I make you come?”
The erotic image of his head between her legs sent
her hurtling up the precipice she’d climbed to at the speed of light.
The sound of a zipper being pulled down brought her
back to the present. He parted the miniscule piece of fabric and worked it down
her hip, stopping to kiss the new patch of skin revealed to his hungry gaze.
Shyla
Colt
Author
Bio
Told once 'You have to be an author, then you're
craziness becomes eccentrics', Shyla Colt has always been in love with the
written word and possessed a desire to write. Named after Super Girl in the
comics, she often mistakes her mortality for super hero status. So, she holds
many hats, Mother, Marine Wife, and writer are her top three. Writing allows
her to explore new venues, face her demons, and touch others. A huge
practitioner of paying it forward, and putting in what you want to get out, she
hopes to inspire, enlighten, move, and entertain you with her work. Mixing
humor, drama, and strong women, often with a paranormal element, she continues to
soldier ahead in the writing field. One of her favorite things is talking to
fans. If you'd like to learn more or just drop a line, please check her out at
www.shylacolt.com.
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