I hope my readers in the states are looking forward to a long weekend! It’s overcast here in Albuquerque, which I love, and I’m sipping some iced coffee with toffee nut at Michael Thomas Coffee Roasters. It’s the first Friday of the month, and I’m very tempted to head over for Fractal Fridays at the New Mexico Museum of Natural History as featured in Veteran Hearts. Do you think I’d meet someone like Kyle?
For something short with several sex scenes, please read Veteran Hearts:
To her surprise, he turned off the truck and killed the lights. Maybe he was coming in after all. He turned sideways to look at her and said, “I’d love to come in, but that might be too fast for me. I know in the book we read they hit the bed after the first hello, but even after two months of knowing you, it’s hard for me to get closer.”
He had his hand on the console between them, and she placed hers on top. “You could just come in for dinner. I swear I won’t molest you.”
His gaze softened though it was hard to see in the shadows. “Maybe I’ll just walk you up to the door, old fashioned like.”
“I’d like that.”
She withdrew her hand, sorry he wouldn’t be staying but still feeling like they’d taken a big step in their relationship. When she stepped out of the truck, he was already out and around, ready to take her hand as she stepped down. Her soul thrilled when he laced his fingers between hers after he closed the door.
She opened the tall wooden gate and smiled at the gurgling of the fountain in the corner of her patio. She’d have to turn it off soon before the first freeze, but she was glad it was on tonight.
“Nice courtyard,” he said as he entered.
She shut the gate, cutting off the view of the rest of the neighborhood. She’d forgotten to turn the porch light on when she left, which allowed the moonlight to cast a romantic glow.
When they arrived at the door, she turned and faced him, not knowing if he wanted to stay and talk or if he’d leave right away. She had a wrought-iron bench over to the side by the fountain and a table with two chairs on the other side. It’d be more comfortable inside.
She realized he was staring at her with a mix of affection and regret on his face. It made her want to stand on her toes to kiss him, but she was sure she’d scare him away if she tried that.
Much to her astonishment, he slipped his hand beneath the hair on the back of her neck, leaned down and brushed his lips against hers.
Goosebumps erupted all over her body. She’d imagined the first kiss so many times that she couldn’t believe it was better than all her scenarios.
He pulled back just enough to speak. “I’m sorry I’m so crazy. I really like you, and it scares the shit out of me—not the liking part but the possibility of losing you in the future. I lost a lot of friends at war.”
It was weird to feel relief at his statement, but at least now she knew what was wrong. Before it’d been a vague generalization of being a veteran. Now she knew something of the cause.
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Amazon: $1.99 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B017Y6RG3Q
Barnes and Noble: $1.99 http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/veteran-hearts-evelyn-aster/1122952967?ean=2940152466577
Or if you’d like a full novel with an involved plot and several sex scenes, please read Thankful Hearts:
She broke the silence and asked, “Did you miss home while you were away, or did you try not to think about it?”
He looked at her profile as she stared out at the city. It was probably an innocent question to her, but it brought up all of his theories and fears about PTSD that he hadn’t talked to anyone about. He wasn’t planning on talking about it ever, but his words betrayed him.
“I thought about home every damn day. I wanted to keep in mind what I was fighting for to distance myself from the violence I was a part of. Soldiers come home and blow up when they hear people complaining at the mall about a dress that doesn’t fit or the fucking barista misspelling their name on a cup of coffee, but that’s why we’re fighting. So someone’s misspelled name is the worst part of their fucking day. I didn’t want to come home and be mad about it.”
Her breath hitched, and in one smooth move, she placed her hand behind his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. At first he stood still, unable to register what was happening. But her lips warmed his and brought movement to his body. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her right up against his chest. Their lips parted, and she slipped her tongue inside his mouth. He loved her assertiveness—he didn’t have to guess what she wanted. But then he tensed. She might discover his gun.
He broke off the kiss and said, “That wasn’t a line. It’s really how I feel.”
She smiled and said, “I know. Was I overly appreciative of your philosophy?” She drew her hands off his neck and tried to step back, but he held her fast.
“No, I just don’t want you to think I’m full of shit.” His face burned when he spoke. He didn’t know why it was so important what she thought of him. He hadn’t been considering her as a girlfriend; at least he didn’t think he had.
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