Series: Blank Canvas #3
Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca on August 1, 2017
Genres: Contemporary Romance
Amazon | Audio | B&N | Goodreads
He is Her Salvation
Abby Merkley has been a member of the Church of the Apocalyptic Faith since she was a child, and there's no way out―except death. She will fight the odds to survive, but there's no one in the world she can trust, nowhere she can run that the cult can't find her...until her handsome, brooding neighbor takes her into the safety of his arms.
Luc Stanek craves a quiet life. But he doesn't hesitate when a desperate woman lands, bloodied and branded on his doorstep. Soon he finds himself drawn into her chaotic world, caught in the center of an apocalyptic war...and determined to save the fierce beauty no matter the cost.
Who Says Rompers Can’t Stomp?
I’ve always been one of those people who is constitutionally incapable of choosing just one of anything. Which is why there’s no way I can go into this without putting a little Stomp in my Romp. The fact is, life is a balance, right? The beauty of it is that a heroine can steam up the bedroom and still take down an opponent, as needed.
Case in point: All three of the heroines in my Blank Canvas Series have to fight—for their own survival or for the lives of others—and all three of them kick some bad guy ass.
But since I’m not here to talk about knockouts, I’ll leave you with a romp of an excerpt from IN HIS HANDS, book three in the Blank Canvas series.
This was Luc’s problem. This uncontrollable yearning to feel things—things he’d gotten away with avoiding these past couple of years. He didn’t just want to touch and feel a woman’s body—he wanted to throw her over his shoulder and ransack her. Not just experience her, but consume. He’d held on until tonight, but then he’d gotten his mouth on her, and he was gone.
There were women who wanted this sexual voraciousness, he knew, but not Abby. He would never do that to Abby. He’d rather shut himself down, tie himself up…disappear.
But then she sat back, eyes glittering in the dark,
and asked for more. What do we do next? A siren’s song
“What do you want to do?” he asked. “What do you
“How do I… I don’t know.”
He swallowed, taking her in where she sat astride him—those breasts that were soft and warm and heavy, her skin even lighter than he’d imagined, her nipples sharpened by desire. Her smell was different from any other woman he’d been intimate with—pure in its humanity. She was sweet musk, unadorned—unadulterated by the chemical stink of perfume.
Face crinkling, she asked, “If we were normal—and I know we’re not,” she added with a smile, “what would you do?”
He half shrugged and swallowed. “I’d touch you, probably. Find out what you like.”
“Do that, then.”
“I like this.” He worked his hand out from under her and ran it over the underside of one breast. It was plump and pale and so soft. From there, he let his hand slide away from her breast, ran his knuckles down to the slight swell of her belly, around to one lush, freckled hip, and then did a slow, rasping drag up her arm, over her shoulder, and to her neck.
Christ, this neck had haunted him—so slender and sweet, untouched by the sun. He shifted her down so their crotches lined up, with just the blanket separating them. From there, he sat up a bit, bringing their torsos close and letting him breathe her in.
The little sounds that she made spoke of undeniable pleasure, arousal, and surprise. When he caught her eye, she shook her head and looked away.
He wished, in that moment, that he was a different sort of man. One who knew the right words, could spout a line or two of poetry.
“Qu’est-ce qu’il y a, chérie? What is it?”
His hand cradled her throat as she swallowed. “I didn’t know.”
“What I was missing.”
“This is good? When I touch you?”
“Better than good.”
Adriana Anders Bundle!