I . . . hit him . . . elsewhere.” “Where?” “In his . . .In his inguine.” “Oh, dear God.” It was unclear whether Ralston’s words were meant as prayer or blasphemy. What was clear was that the woman was a gladiator. “He called me a pie!” she announced, defensively. There was a pause. “Wait. That’s not right.” “A tart?” “Yes! That’s it!” She registered her brother’s fists and looked to Simon. “I see that it is not a compliment.” “No. It is not.
Sarah MacLeanShe did not want to be that woman - the one of whom they spoke. She had never planned to be that woman. Somehow, it had happened, however...somehow, she had lost her way and, without realizing it, she had chosen this staid, boring life instead of a different, more adventurous one.
Sarah MacLeanYou are my siren,” he said, running his hands along her thighs and down her calves, feeling the shape of her even as the silk of her gown kept them both from what they wanted. “My temptress . . . my sorceress . . . I cannot resist you, no matter how I try. You threaten to send me over the edge.
Sarah MacLean