The last thing Caibre MacFearann wants is to return to Scotland let alone be forced to stay there. Then he gets the irresistible chance to visit the woman who would forever hold his heart. Still knowing they can never wed, he travels across Scotland in a blizzard just to spend a few moments with Aisla MacKai.
Losing Caibre MacFearann’s love hurt so much that Aisla MacKai wants nothing to do with him when a blizzard brings the man to her doorstep. Kindness and human charity require that she give him shelter, no matter how great the damage he’d done to her heart
The past keeps Caibre and Aisla apart. Only love and forgiveness can give them a future together.
This suspenseful sequel to “One More Last Dance” follows Peck Finch’s search for his mother after leaving home at the age of nine, and the struggles of his friend Gabe, who is simultaneously facing a second-degree murder charge. Set within the rich and storied culture of Louisiana, this tale of self-discovery explores important questions about the meaning of love, friendship, family and more.
“Mamma’s Moon” has received early praise for its layered storytelling with BlueInk Reviews calling Antil’s newest work “a lovely story about the strong bonds of friendship that often supplant family ties.”
About the Author
JEROME MARK ANTIL writes in several genres. He has been called a “greatest generation’s Mark Twain,” a “write what you know Ernest Hemingway,” and “a sensitive Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.” It’s been said his work reads like a Norman Rockwell painting. Among his writing accomplishments, several titles in his The Pompey Hollow Book Club historical fiction series about growing up in the shadows of WWII have been honored. An ‘Authors and Writers’ Book of the Year Award and ‘Writer of the Year’ at Syracuse University for The Pompey Hollow Book Club novel; Hemingway, Three Angels, and Me, won SILVER in the UK as second-best novel.
After his step-father
nearly ruins both his family name and business, Damien Fiorenza becomes
suspicious of everyone—except for his long-time partner, Ethan Lord. He doesn’t
trust people in authority, much less the woman who weasels her way into his
walled-up heart alongside his lover of fifteen years.
Ethan dislikes his
empathic abilities, especially since they allow him to feel his mother’s
indifference towards him, her only son. Damien, however, has always made Ethan
feel needed. Appreciated and protected. But, he can’t voice what Ethan is
desperate to hear. Falling for their new secretary is unexpected, but she
encourages and supports him in ways Damien won’t.
father chose his secret family over her and her mother. Ever since, she’s striven
to be the best she can be, unable to stomach being second best. Although an
office romance is taboo, she can’t deny the passionate chemistry among the
three of them and finds herself drawn to both her bosses.
Problems from their
pasts threaten to block the HEA they’re heading toward. Will Shaylia be able to
accept herself as less than perfect, and will Damien lower his defenses? Ethan
holds the key to their healing, but can he overcome his own demons before it's
Lynn Burke is a full
time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A
country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts
when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
all-new STANDALONE from New York Times bestselling author Julia Kent
It all started with the wrong Help Wanted ad. Of course it
professional fluffer. It’s NOT what you think. I stage homes for a living. Real
estate agents love me, and my work stands on its own merits.
Get your mind out of the gutter. Go ahead. Laugh. I’ll wait.
That’s the problem. My career has used the term “fluffer” for decades. I didn’t
even know there was a more… lascivious definition of the term.
was too late.
for a “professional fluffer” on Craigslist seemed like divine intervention. My
last unemployment check was in the bank. I was desperate. Rent was due. The ad
said cash paid at the end of the day.
homes means showing your best angle. The same principle applies in making a
certain kind of movie. Turns out a “fluffer” doesn’t arrange decorative pillows
on a couch.
arrange other soft, round-ish objects.
isn’t hard. Er, I mean, it is — it’s about being hard. Or, well… helping other
people to be hard.
that’s the other problem. A man. No, not one of the stars on the movie set.
Will Lotham – my high school crush. The owner of the house where we’re filming.
Illegally. In a vacation rental.
time the cops show up, what I thought was just a great house staging gig turned
into a nightmare involving pictures of me with an undressed naked star, Will
rescuing me from an arrest, and a humiliating lesson in my own naivete.
turned out to be so much harder than I expected. But you know what’s easier
than I ever imagined?
“Because you have this thing you do when you get nervous. You
did it in high school and you're doing it now.”
“You start cracking your knuckles. One by one.”
mid-crack on his ring finger. His bare ring finger.
looks down. A slow smile pulls at his lips. “You’re right. I do.” Our eyes
meet. “How did you know?”
“I sat behind you in nearly every honors class, Will. I’ve
watched you answer countless questions from teachers. And every time you didn’t
know the answer, you cracked your knuckles. One”–I crack my index finger–“by”–I
crack my middle finger–“one.” My ring finger won’t snap.
“You spent a lot of time paying attention to me, Mallory.”
“I sat behind you. It’s not like I could stare at your ass
all day. I had to have something else to look at.”
“You stared at my ass?”
“It was two feet in front of me! Four classes a day!” I start
to sweat. The memory of him in football uniform pants. Oh, sweet ice cream
fairy, deliver me from evil.
“You okay? You look,” he says, stepping closer, “a little
“Hot, even.” The rise and fall of his chest pauses after
those words, as if he's holding his breath, too.
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling
Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to
BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every
contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after
dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire). She
lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the
toilet seat is never, ever, down
past is a dangerous place in this fast-paced time travel novel...
Spears is a skeptical producer for a TV investigative news team. So when her
grandmother claims a Cherokee Indian woman is living on a neighboring farm, she
dismisses it as early Alzheimer's. Because, obviously, there is no farm nearby.
Not in the present anyway. But when she follows Nana's lead, Kathryn is
transported back in time to the year 1840 where she finds a young Cherokee
woman left behind when her family marched west on the Trail of Tears.
Water is ensnared in a perilous struggle to keep her ancestral lands against a
violent white man who claims the farm, and then claims her as well. Desperate
to help her new friend, Kathryn becomes entangled in a battle between good and
evil with much higher stakes than she imagines.
of these young women falls in love with a man from her own time, but there are
threats, both seen and unseen, that could cost them their lives.
Read an Excerpt
you Forest Water?” I whispered.
nodded, a hint of surprise in her expression.
that your husband?” I said.
answer was a tired sigh.
you visited by a white-haired woman a few minutes ago?”
warned Old Grandmother to stay away. You must also.”
laid the baby on the blanket, got to her feet and pushed a narrow door open at
the back of the hut where I’d first entered. She slipped outside, returning
with a fig in her hand.
must eat this and travel through the doorway,” she said, placing it in my hand.
have so many questions.”
locked eyes with me as though trying to look into my soul. Having apparently
come to a decision, she squatted beside the blanket, folding it back to reveal
a layer of pine straw. Scraping the pine straw aside exposed the lid of a large
metal box. She lifted the heavy lid and pulled out a leather pouch. From the
pouch, she withdrew a book, opened it and ripped a handful of blank pages from
the back. She stuffed the loose pages back inside the pouch, returned it to the
box, closed the lid and covered it with the pine straw and blanket. Then she
handed me the book.
must go,” she whispered, eyes blazing.
gestured for me to put the fig in my mouth as she tugged the shawl from my
reluctantly placed the fruit between my teeth and passed through the small
overwhelmed me as the buzzing in my ears returned, momentarily blocking out all
other sound. I found myself standing in the clearing, the fig half-chewed in my
mouth. I whirled around to discover the hut no longer existed. My muscles felt
as though I’d run a marathon. Not willing to trust my wobbly legs, I remained
motionless, dazed by what had just happened.
were two possibilities – the figs contained some kind of psychedelic substance,
causing me to have the same hallucination Nana had, possibly by virtue of power
of suggestion. Or I had traveled back in time. Which was so freaky that my skin
tingled. In my business, skepticism was ingrained. I wasn’t easily taken in by
a ruse. What I thought had happened could not possibly be the truth.
looked all around the clearing for the young woman who called herself Forest
Water. Then, to be sure the shack didn’t still exist, I walked back and forth
over the spot where it had been. There was nothing there.
I remembered the book. It was solid in my hands, the brown leather smooth to
the touch. The book was real. The place was real. And as much as the rational
part of my brain rebelled against the idea, I knew I had somehow visited the
impatient to know the story of the mysterious dark-haired beauty, I made my way
to a large rock on the riverbank. I untied the strap holding the book closed
and opened it with care. So many words, perhaps written with a fountain pen or
a quill, the letters sometimes puddled with excess ink, sometimes as thin as a
strand of hair. The ink was black, the paper a cream color and rough to the
touch. But the words were not in English. I had no idea what language or
alphabet I was looking at. Some of the letters were familiar, but many looked
like Arabic or Greek.
flipping the pages, I discovered the entire book was written in this foreign
language. Completely inaccessible to me. I had to talk with Nana.
worked for many years as a radio reporter and news anchor, with a couple of
brief forays into TV news along the way.Her experience as a journalist shows up in some of her novels.She also dabbled in acting in college and
community theater. She uses those experiences in some of her books as well.
novels are fast-paced stories featuring young women facing serious challenges
set against the backdrop of some thorny issues. She writes time travel, magical
realism, historical fiction and climate fiction - all with a dollop of romance.
up, she was a middle child and lived in Japan and Okinawa where her Army dad
was stationed.She graduated from the
University of North Carolina at Pembroke with a degree in Journalism and
Will a trip to Sandy Ridge change the friends’ lives for the better or worse?
Without Reservation - MMF Romance:
Art studio vandalized and her mother in a fresh grave, Meg Winters heads off on vacation with her two best friends. She hopes for peace from her grief and the return of her muse. She doesn’t expect to run into the two men she idolizes, Trevor and Jack, the secretive wonders of the art world whose work she’s long admired. She certainly doesn’t expect them to be sex-on-legs gorgeous and determined to fulfill her number one sexual fantasy. They not only awaken her slumbering body, but also her creativity and the life she used to wield with her brushes.
However, Meg carries a secret of her own which holds her back from surrendering herself fully to their desires. Will Trevor and Jack be able to overcome her reservations, or will the truth of her past ruin their chance for love?
Without Hesitation - MF Romance:
Dumped like a bag of misshapen clay four months before her wedding, grade-school art teacher Mindy Hughson has no intention of opening her heart to anyone ever again. Hookups and one-night-stands fill the ache of abandonment—but still leave her wanting.
Attempting to find peace from the shattered pieces of her past, Mindy returns to Sandy Ridge where she's drawn to the cabin’s owner, Gage Hart. A carefree fling with a ripped hunk of fuck-a-licious beefsteak is just what she needs to fill the emptiness she feels inside. But Gage's sexy smirk, lone dimple, and deep stare demand more than just the press of her body against his. He wants her love. With his mere presence threatening her resolve to keep things simple, will the pain of her past force her to flee? Or will Mindy dare to open her heart to Gage without hesitation?
Without Condition - MF Romance:
Nothing but Kayla’s fingers and not-so-trusty vibrator have given her an orgasm in almost a year, and the one man she’s hell-bent on breaking her losing streak hides behind his badge. Detective “Hottie Pants” Ford thwarts her every attempt at seduction, and even though vandalisms, a trashed apartment, and physical assault keeps throwing them together, he refuses to attempt a relationship ever again.
She sees past his facade into the man hiding his pain behind unbreakable rules and inflexible conditions, but even after the fiery chemistry between them ignites, she struggles to prove to him she is nothing like the woman who jaded him for life.
Heartbroken, Kayla decides on a vacation to help her peace of mind—and ends up at Sandy Ridge. With danger hot on her heels, can the man she turns to first recognize Kayla for who she is? Will he give her the chance she needs to let him know she wants him without condition, before it’s too late?
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
Seth Callahan relocates one of his business offices to a pretty Louisiana town.
He’s lonely and discovers an emptiness inside him he just can’t fill … that is
until he starts his house parties,
where he fills the hollow with sultry encounters.
years later, his house parties
attract lonely people looking for sensual comfort from far and wide.
Pyne arrives in town seeking solace after a bad relationship, and her neighbors
take her to one of Seth’s parties.
notices her right away. He approaches her, but Rosanna backs away from Seth’s
falls into fantasizing in a most erotic way about the lovely Rosanna until one
night she makes a move on him.
is looking for someone to love her. Is there any chance it might be Seth?
from erotic romance, Leave me Breathless
The outside of Magnolias had been
painted a cool, ethereal blue in the seventies, many years before Seth Callahan
bought the mansion. The house took its name from the abundance of beautiful
flowering trees that grew along one side of the estate, and no one could
remember the place ever being called anything else. As the sun set, the blue
became tinged with a multitude of almost transparent pinks that shimmered in
the hot summer air. That’s when the silver-white fairy lights would appear
twinkling in the grounds of Magnolias, and soft strains of music drifted on the
Seth had fallen in love with the
mansion and surrounding estate as soon as he saw it. The whole place evoked
fantasies in Seth’s lonely heart, and filled it with hope of erotic nights.
Seth’s somber moods lifted there, and it wasn’t long before he found a way to
share this sexy atmosphere with the beautiful and curious people in town.
* * *
Seth watched from his seat on the
balcony as the stream of people arrived at the house party. He’d divided his massive
French Colonial style house into public and private, much like his life. Seth
had built two reputations since arriving from New York four years earlier, one
as a high-achieving businessman, and the other as the host of an elite sex club
that operated under the guise of house parties. Seth liked to sit on the
wraparound balcony of Magnolias, his Louisiana home, with a glass of iced tea,
and check out the people who’d come to sample swinging, swapping, and the
sensual dance of flirting that led to sex if they chose.
He swished the remains of the pale
golden liquid around. It had warmed in the humid air, and Seth placed the tall
glass on the table. Enticing laughter reached him. He stood to lean over the
balcony rail and look more closely at his guests.
That’s when he saw her, the pale-green
silk of her dress blown against her body in a revealing caress by the evening
breeze. The thin fabric outlined her nipples and flat stomach. It clung to her
as if in love with the perfection of her figure. Seth’s gaze followed the flow
of her long dark hair as tendrils lifted and swept her breasts. He sighed with
pleasure. The sight of her made his cock stir. She’s lovely, sexy body. Wonder
who she is? Maybe Pearl knows. Who’s that she’s with?
He scrutinized her two male companions
as they bent their heads to listen to whatever she said—Beau and Simon Duchamp.What’s
she doing with them? Seth knew them from a business deal, not that he or
they would acknowledge that in the club, should they run into one another. No
one knew each other once they’d floated in through the decorative front door on
a cloud of sexual need and anticipation. This code underpinned the club’s
success and popularity.
The beautiful woman disappeared from
view under the balcony overhang. Seth experienced a sense of loss in the pit of
his stomach. He adjusted his collar and tie, grabbed his pale linen jacket, and
strode along the balcony to the back steps, which led to the garden. He liked
to walk into the party through the front door of the house the same as everyone
else. Seth stalked along the tiled garden path, slipping on his jacket so that
he arrived at the entrance looking unruffled as usual, at least on the outside.
Tonight flutters plagued his stomach. His heart beat faster. Seth wanted
another glimpse of the lovely woman in the green silk dress as if his life
depended on it.
He cruised through the rooms, his gaze
raking over the groups of people, and his thoughts tumbled. It’s been a long time since just the sight
of a woman had such an effect on me. It’s exhilarating. Out of habit, he
took a glass of mint julip from a silver tray as the server hovered close and
smiled an acknowledgement. The glass chilled his palm with its generous scoop
of crushed ice. He stopped his searching, seduced by the frosty glass, and
tasted the drink. The aroma of bourbon and spearmint hit him before the taste,
and then he swallowed the refreshing mouthful.
He saw something green with his
peripheral vision and headed there. It wasn’t the gorgeous dress adorning his
quarry, but a shirttail whisked up as the woman wearing the item swung her hips
in time to the drum rhythm of the low music
A heavy sigh escaped him at this
letdown, and then from behind came a familiar voice.
“Good evening. It’s beautiful out.
Would you like to walk with me in the garden?”
Seth spun elegantly around. Of course,
he knew Lilian, had fucked her a couple of times, in fact, but that wouldn’t be
mentioned tonight. He looked her up and down appreciatively. Her short black
dress barely came halfway down her thighs. The low neckline revealed two soft
mounds, pushed up no doubt by a sexy, black lace bra, if Seth remembered correctly. He smiled kindly. He wanted to find
the lovely woman in the green dress, but Lilian deserved courtesy.
“That’s a very tempting offer,
unfortunately I have plans. Perhaps another night?”
The disappointment that flooded Lilian’s
eyes both flattered and worried him. He wouldn’t make a habit of fucking her,
ever. There’d be no chance of a permanent link up. She was attractive, a great
fuck, but that was it for Seth.
He loved women, though. He adored the
softness of their skin and hair. He loved the curve of their hips and the tease
of full lips. He liked to listen to the way they sighed and make them smile to
see the laughter in their eyes. He reveled in the scent of their arousal, because
Seth always gave a lady so much care they’d be wet through and about to beg by
the time he fucked them. Seth never knowingly hurt a woman, and so he decided
in that moment that he wouldn’t dally with Lilian again. It would be cruel to
string her along. He wanted love, but he wanted it to hit him and knock him
flat, to carry him away with its intensity, and consume him so that euphoria
erased his loneliness.
Lilian inclined her head slightly in a
polite way and moved off.
Seth took his cell phone from his
inside jacket pocket. He called Pearl, his housekeeper, the term affectionately
given to the woman who managed his house on a daily basis, and the sex club administration. She usually checked people out.
Seth didn’t want any troublemakers. He wanted genuine, discrete people at the
house parties, those who found life a little heavy in the sultry Louisiana town
and needed light relief.
“Pearl, I saw Beau and Simon Duchamp
with a young woman earlier. Do you know who she is?” Seth kept his voice low,
and he turned to an arrangement of heavy-headed flowers, taking a petal between
a finger and thumb as he spoke. He hadn’t meant to crush the petal, but it
creased under his touch, releasing a powerful, sweet scent.
“If she’s wearing a green dress that’s
their new neighbor Rosanna Pyne. I checked her application and met her. She’s
new in town from Montana—single and recently opened that store on the main
street, Wedding Delight. Maybe you’ve noticed it. She’s already designing a
dress for Peyton Davis.”
Seth couldn’t help the grin that spread
across his face. Although it was Pearl’s job to know stuff, she always knew so much.
“Thank you. I can always count on you.
I’m hoping to run into her tonight.”
He detected caution in Pearl’s tone.
“She’s in a private alcove with them. The drapes are closed.”
Seth experienced such an intense surge
of disappointment he winced and pulled the petal from the flower head as his
fingers clenched. He ended the call to Pearl with a gruff, “Okay,” and slipped
his cell into the back pocket of his suit pants.
The perfume from the flowers that a few
seconds ago had been so enjoyable suddenly overwhelmed him with sticky
sweetness. He dropped the petal on the table next to his discarded drink and
walked swiftly through the room to the patio. She’s new in town, and already in a private booth with the curtain
closed … fucking hell, and with two
men … two men. A frown creased
between his eyes as he realized how inexplicably upset the news had made him. What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve only
glimpsed this woman.
The warmth of the evening hit him as he
charged to the end of the patio and stood by the trellis of purple Clematis,
trying to calm himself and identify exactly why his reaction was so strong. He
dragged off the jacket that he liked to wear in the chilly air-con of the
house. The tailored linen usually added to his elegance, but now he dropped it
to the tiled floor, uncaring.
There were no monitored rooms in the
sex club part of his house where the parties were held. A mezzanine floor lined
with private booths, which Pearl called “alcoves”, that were large enough to
accommodate a chaise longue, low table, and a couple of chairs, had proven
adequate for anyone who wanted to engage in sex during the evening.
Seth had the mezzanine built in the
huge ballroom of the house when he’d first formed the idea of the club. A
camera was trained on the row of booths, the images streamed to a closed
circuit TV, and Pearl, from her office, might see the occasional spate of
comings and goings if she happened to look, but it wasn’t surveillance. It was
there for assurance and decorum. Half the patrons took their conquest home with
them—wives, husbands, and lovers, swapped by mutual agreement.
After the first two years, Seth liked
to refer to his club evenings as house parties, now four years on he always did,
and in fact, so did most people. As the host, he provided drinks and music. Though
discouraged, if a financial donation came in via Pearl as administrator, he
used it to make the house parties more opulent and welcoming. Seth was wealthy.
He already gave considerable sums to charities, and so he thought putting the
donation back into his partygoers’ comfort was reasonable.
Someone opened another French window
close by to wander hand in hand outside, and a burst of music from the party
broke his introspection as Seth stared into the growing darkness, remembering
Rosanna’s peaked nipples beneath her soft green dress.
The idea of finding the booth and
taking Rosanna from Beau and Simon Duchamp ate at him until he turned and
strode back into the house. He slowed his pace to mount the stairs for the
mezzanine floor, and then he stalked along it, glancing at the booths with
closed drapes, and hoping there’d be some way of discovering which one Rosanna
inhabited without invading other peoples’ privacy.
When no way became apparent, he
returned to a downstairs room and snatched up a glass of bourbon to sip as he
tried to analyze his actions. Maybe I’m
Then he saw her. She stood alone at the
far end of the room gazing out of the huge window.
Seth’s spirit leapt. He watched her for
a few moments, tracing the shape of her body with a hungry gaze. Then he left
his drink on a nearby table and approached her.
His heart hammered.
She turned to him when he drew close.
He drank in the sight of her. Her eyes were
almost the same color as her dress, lined with black kohl, her lips perfect for
kissing, with a full bottom lip, and her nipples were clearly visible, peaking
through the bodice of her dress in the cooled air of the room.
Seth’s usual composure drained away,
but a smile hovered at the corners of his mouth.
“Hi, Seth Callahan, can I get you
anything?” My cock in your cunt—my tongue
on your clit—my fingers teasing at your ass—my lips on yours?
She hesitated and then smiled her
answer. “If I tell you what I’d really like, do you promise to get it for me?”
Her husky voice added to her rampant sexual aura.
Seth was enchanted. “I will certainly
try. What is it?”
She leaned a little toward him as if
she was about to reveal something outrageous.
Seth enjoyed her proximity. He leaned to
listen to a whisper.
Surprised, and then amused, Seth
grinned. “That’s easy. Come with me.” He held out his hand.
She slipped her hand into his.
Her skin was like satin—cool, smooth,
and so sensual—and Seth fought down the urge to drag her against his body and
kiss her hard. He led her to the downstairs kitchen where the drinks and snacks
were prepared. A huge table in the middle held rows of glasses and bottles. One
of the servers poured a pink cocktail into frosty rimmed glasses.
Seth nodded a greeting at his
questioning look. “My lady wants hot chocolate. I know where everything is.
I’ll make it. You go ahead with what you’re doing.” His voice held authority
and he let go of Rosanna’s hand to open a wide cupboard. He knew where
everything was because he checked the supplies with Pearl once a week so that
she could buy more if needed. There was coffee and tea, cocoa, and a special
blend of hot chocolate that was actually for use in a cocktail. Seth swiftly
made the beverage. He brought out one of the white china cups with its little
matching saucer and poured the hot chocolate. He’d been silent as he prepared
the drink, but as he held it out to her, he embarked on charming her.
“Here it is. I haven’t seen you here
before. Tell me your name.” He knew it but needed to hide the fact he’d
practically stalked her. He moved close and as she took the cup and saucer, he steadied
it with his free hand over hers. “Take care, it’s hot.” And so are you…
“Thank you, and it’s Rosanna—my name.”
Her voice fell to a whisper.
Seth hoped that was because his touch
had the same effect on her as hers had on him. He reluctantly moved his hand
from her smooth knuckles.
“You’re beautiful, Rosanna. Are you
here with anyone?” He saw an expression of pain pass fleetingly in her eyes. It
piqued his interest further.
“No. Well, not a husband or lover, if
that’s what you mean. My friends brought me.”
Seth took a deep breath. She’d been
with them in a curtained booth. “Friends?”
“Yes, they showed me around before they
went off to capture some ladies for dubious purposes.”
Seth raised his eyebrows for a second,
surprised she’d use the word “dubious.”
“You do know what this place is?”
Rosanna gave a tiny nod. “Yes, of
course. I only meant they intended charming the pants off—off someone.” She
hesitated with a tentative smile.
Seth gazed into her eyes. “Did you come
here so that someone would charm the pants off you?”
Rosanna’s green eyes darkened as her
pupils reacted to his question. “Are you offering?”