Sunday, November 3, 2013

Compromising Miss Tisdale, Historical Romance Coming November 6th.

Coming this Wednesday from Soul Mate Publishing, Available on Amazon.
Who was this man?
His hair was slick and dark, the way rain-soaked pavement looked at night, and thick pieces clung damply to his brow. She allowed her gaze to drop down to his breeches, which were soaked through and clinging to the long muscles of his thighs and ...
Ambrosia abruptly shifted her eyes back up, her face hot with embarrassment. She felt a bit as if she might swoon, but the vision of being found in a most improper heap on the floor, in the company of the opposite sex, was enough to keep her upright.
His smile widened, revealing rows of straight, white pearls for teeth. “You must be hiding from someone? That’s the only reason ladies seek cover in libraries alone during parties. Is it a scorned lover? Jilted fiancĂ©?” He chuckled lightly. The deep, resonating sound did strange things to her stomach.
Censorious friend? Meddling mother? “Something of the sort,” she stammered. Suddenly it was as if all sense of the English language deserted her. And since when had she started to stammer?
He took a step toward her, still slow and deliberate with his movements. “You seem nervous. Perhaps you would feel a bit more comfortable if we properly introduced ourselves.”
She simply shook her head, doubting her ability to form a sensible word.
He raised a cocky eyebrow. “After seeing me in such a state, I think it’s only civilized that we exchange introductions. After all, you already know quite a bit about me and I know practically nothing about you.”
The argument seemed almost rational when he put it like that. And Ambrosia whole heartedly agreed with his deduction. In the past few moments, she had learned quite a lot about him, actually. She knew he was handsome as the devil, sculpted like a Greek god, and clearly unaffected by the gross impropriety of their current situation.
She swallowed, taking time to find her voice. “I think it is best if we don’t talk.”
He was close enough now that she could distinguish more of the details in his face. His features were so angular; staring at him was truly a study in geometry. With high cheekbones, a strong chin, and an even stronger squared jaw, it was hard to look away. But it was his eyes that demanded her attention. Framed with thick black lashes, his were a unique shade of hazela virtual kaleidoscope of color, with gold flecks playing about them.
And every bit as devilish as his smile.
“I’m glad to hear you feel that way. I couldn’t agree more,” he replied in a husky voice. He was close now, so close she could smell the rain on him. He looked down from heavy eyelids to meet her gaze. Then he bent his head and crushed his lips against hers.
About the Author:
Jessica Jefferson makes her home in northern Indiana, or as she likes to think of it—almost Chicago.  She is heavily inspired by the classic sweeping, historical romance novels, but aims to take those key emotional elements and inject a fresh blend of quick dialogue and comedy.  Visit her at for more of her random romance musings.  Be sure to like Jess at and follow her on Twitter https//
Fall in love with romance again . . .




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