You can get it on Amazon or the Decadent Publishing website.
To celebrate, I have 2 things to share with you. First, on the Get Lost in a Story Blog I'm sharing pictures of how I'm celebrating this release. (Hopefully it's the 1st of many!)
2nd, I'm giving you a second excerpt from the book!
She slipped into the study, the room between hers and Malcolm’s, and flipped on the lights. It would be a few more hours before the house would come to life with Mary and the girls preparing breakfast for the eager tourists who had no cares in the world. None of them had been attacked. None of them had been close to dying.
A shiver raced along her spine. Heather walked straight to the wet bar, grabbed a glass and the bottle of Glenmorangie whisky. The neck of the bottle clinked against the rim of her glass as she poured. Without putting the cap on the bottle, she took her first swig. The liquid burned as it traveled through her system, but she welcomed it. It meant she was alive.
"Can you not sleep?" Malcolm spoke softly.
"No, too many thoughts." Heather whirled around with the glass in her hand. He stood in the doorway with gray sweatpants on and no shirt.
Her mouth went dry. She’d imagined him to be fit, and after the fight with Sutherland, she expected as such, but the contours of his abs stirred to life every sexual need within her.
Good God, he was beautiful. Her fingers itched to trace the muscles of his chest, to see if they were as hard as she imagined. An ache sprang to attention behind her breasts, between her thighs.
He wandered casually toward her. "Sutherland?"
Sláinte," and took a sip.
"Among other things." Like how to keep her hands to herself. Another sip.
"Are you sure this will help?" He tapped his finger on her glass.
"It can’t hurt." Another sip. Her eyes remained fixed on him, on the chest inches from her, on the overnight stubble covering his chin.
She closed her eyes and gulped down the last of the harsh liquid.
Glass clinked against glass.
When she opened her eyes again, Malcolm held the bottle. The liquid swished as he poured himself a drink and then refilled her glass. Once he returned the bottle to its place on the bar, he clinked their glasses, said, "
"I’m sorry, Malcolm."
"For doubting you in Edinburgh, for that comment about payment. It was like the first test of my faith in you, and I failed. For that, I’m sorry."
"I’ve already forgotten it." He cupped her cheek and brushed the pad of his thumb along her skin for a few seconds.
Not nearly enough.
"I’m confused, Malcolm. For a man who claims to want nothing to do with me, you’ve made it a point to spend a lot of time with me."
"It’s not that I want nothing to do with you. It’s that I have nothing to offer you."
She grabbed both their glasses and set them on the bar. She caressed his cheek. His stubble prickled her skin and stirred her hot desire. She might not know everything, but at this moment, in this room, she knew she wanted this man. "Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?"