Now I don't want to do any false advertising. There's only
the possibility of one man being without clothes—Marshall. Refer
to number one to see why that's just a good thing.
Bio:
Sofia
Harper started writing contemporary romance a long, long time ago.
When Sofia's not spending time with imaginary people in her head,
she's corrupting two little trouble makers. Currently she lives in
California where the wine is good. She also going full-throttle on
the ride called publishing. These two thoughts are not related.
You can check me out here:
Website:
http://sofiaharper.com
Blog:
sofiaharper.blogspot.com/
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/sofiaharp
Blurb:
Stranded in paradise with no way to get home, Leah Smith needs a
miracle, and fast. Instead, she gets Marshall Jackson, surely the
sexiest man alive. Too bad he's got an emotional wall around
himself--and her only hope of getting off the island...
Marshall has a strict no damsels in distress policy, but there's
something about Leah that makes him want to break his own rules. He
agrees to let her work in his bar until she earns enough to get home.
But the more time they spend together, the harder it is to deny the
scorching attraction between them. Soon hot island nights provide
balm to their wounded souls, but will these two flawed exiles make
peace with the past in time to claim the future they deserve
together--or will paradise be lost?
Excerpt:
A smile spread across his face, and the power of the sudden
mischievous quality made her blink. “Okay.” He straightened,
leaving behind a musky, masculine scent. “If you won’t talk about
yourself, put in on the poker game.”
That kind of smile could talk a woman into just about anything.
Her blood sang with attraction, and it made her head
swim. Down,
girl.“No.”
Marshall shook his head. “I’m not letting you off that easy. I
risked my life to save yours. You owe me.”
“Didn’t ask you to,” she said.
His jaw clenched. “Some things you shouldn’t have to ask for.”
A bitter laugh spilled from her lips. “Just like there are some
things you don’t. Like bossy men with a hero complex who work in
dives.”
His eyes narrowed, and she bit her lip. His gaze dropped to her
mouth. She held her breath.
“True,” he said. “Now fess up. How did you end up on the
side of the road getting robbed? ”
What would it hurt? He wasn’t likely to tell anyone—not when
he seemed to be hiding here himself. What man would opt to live in a
place that looked like this? Someone running, that’s who.
And what
the hell? If she wasn’t going to
gamble or finish the entire contents of the glass in front of her,
she might as well live a little and do something daring, like open
up.She put an elbow on the counter, placing her chin in her palm.
“Where should I start? I’ve never confessed to a bartender
before.”
“Start where you think your story starts.”
Her life really started the day she’d made a blood pact with her
cousin Janet to never settle for mediocre and to never lose her sense
of adventure. Also, whoever lost their virginity first had to retell
the story in painstaking detail.
Leah settled on, “I was born in a one-room shack.”
He scoffed at the lie. “Fast-forward just a little bit. I’m
more curious how someone like you ended up in my bar.”
“Dive,” she corrected. “It’s a dive.”
“I would be insulted if I didn’t agree.” He tilted his chin
up, gesturing to the other side of the room, where a cluster of
tables sat together. “I have regulars, and I have people who end up
lost.”
He mused for
a moment. “Or troublemakers.”
Buy Links:
Amazon
Barnes
and Noble
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