No, I didn't win the lottery - I received my cover for Scandinavian Scandal!
BLURB: Sven Larsson, international movie star, is out to repair his scandalous reputation. The last thing he needs is for an enticing bundle of curves to fall into his arms, making his libido sit up and growl Come to Papa. However, the instant sexual chemistry between them is hard to ignore…
Sylvia, young widowed mum of three, knows Sven is everything she doesn’t need in a man. Can she risk giving in to temptation and enjoy the no strings sex on offer?
With the paparazzi breathing down their necks and both of them scarred emotionally by their past demons, will they manage to heal each other...
Like the sound of that? I sure hope so :-)If you do, come and like my Facebook Page for a chance to win a copy of Scandinavian Scandal and my other November release Lure of the Blood.
Here is a little excerpt from Scandinavian Scandal due for release on November 21st with Noble Romance
Lost in thought, Sven flipped the bacon expertly, his smile widening at the thought of waking his little firecracker up with a kiss. Maybe it was just his self-enforced celibacy that had made last night incredible. Yeah, that had to be it. It was just sex. Okay, it was the best sex he ever could remember having, but it didn't mean a thing, other than he hadn't had it in far too long. He would just have to make the most of the weekend, so that neither party was left with any regrets, and she would be out of his system. And if she wasn't, well he would just have to convince her that being his fuck buddy every time he was in town would be good thing. Who are you kidding man? She is never going to go for that sort of arrangement.
But if he laid his cards on the table, so she knew this wasn't forever, then maybe, just maybe they could enjoy a relationship of sorts anyway.
The feminine gasp behind him made him spin round, his body reacting instantly to the sight of his firecracker standing in front of him, tugging at the hem of his shirt self-consciously, a slow blush spreading across her skin at his blatant appraisal of her. She had to be naked under that shirt, her suit case was still unpacked on the deck where George had placed it last night, and his hands had made short work of her underwear. He would have to buy her some more—now there was a thought.
"God morgon, älskling."
He chuckled to himself at the way her eyes strayed downwards to where he knew he was tenting his apron before she hurriedly brought them back up to his face and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear in another self-conscious gesture. And fuck him if he didn't find her natural shyness the sexiest thing ever. She clearly had no idea how hot she looked standing there with her hair still mussed from his fingers, her soft skin marked by his stubble, the scent of sex and arousal wafting across the room to him in the breeze. Jeez man, think of something else, after last night she won't be up to a quick roll yet. Or a nice, leisurely wake up fuck, for that matter. No, he would have to pamper her a bit first.
"You beat me to it. I was going to wake you up with breakfast in bed. I figured you'd be hungry after last night."
As if on cue, the rumble of her stomach made them both laugh, and some of the tension left her shoulders.
"I take that as a yes, baby. Now come here."
Turning the hob off with one hand, he drew her into him. Barefoot, she barely reached his shoulder, and, silencing her soft gasp with his kiss, he lifted her on the worktop, his protective instinct kicking in at the slight wince she tried to hide.
"A little, yes. I can't think why."
"Sorry. I guess I was a bit demanding last night."
Her breathy, "No shit, Sherlock," made him smile ruefully, whilst pulling her closer into his chest, relieved at the way she leant into him.
"I thought you were going to feed me. Least thing you could do in the circumstances."
His smile turned into a full blown belly laugh at the expression on her face at his next murmured words. "Trust me, lady, breakfast is only the start," and he popped a slice of bacon into her rounded mouth, sealing the deal with a kiss.
It was much later—after he had run her a bath in the Jacuzzi, his whole body tense after hearing her feminine sighs of bliss as he lowered her carefully into the fragrant bubbles—that the truth hit him. He had forced himself to walk away and into an ice cold shower, willing his erection to go down. One weekend was never going to be enough. In the short time he had known her, she had gotten under his skin, and he was fucked if he knew what to do about it.
COPYRIGHT Doris O'Connor 2011