A Love Story by Tiffany Carmouche- ©2012
…I brought the
orders to the bar, knowing that Brad would torment me about the song Dylan was
singing for me.
“Can I have
eight Buds, two martinis, a glass of white zin, and three shots of Jose
Cuervo?”
“I think that’s
a little excessive, even for you. Look at you, you’re blushing.”
“Shut up,
Bradley.”
“He wrote you a
song. Is that what it takes? I think maybe I will take guitar lessons.”
“Shut up,
Bradley.”
Dylan was still
singing. I was still blushing. I tried to ignore Brad and turned back to the
stage. The song was almost over, and I wanted to savor every moment of it. No
one had ever done anything like this for me before.
“And we wonder why he always gets the girl.
You know every girl in this place hates you right about now. It’s bad enough he
likes you, but he’s singing a song for you.”
“Shut up,
Bradley! Just give me the drinks.” I proceeded over to the customers with a
full tray, all my attention savoring Dylan’s every word. He was staring into my
eyes, and I was gazing into his. I didn’t even notice the tiny step down into
the lower level. My foot twisted and drinks flew through the air as I fell to
the ground. So graceful. Shit. I was
covered in tequila and martinis. I scanned the room, completely humiliated,
praying nobody had seen me, but realizing on a slow night like tonight,
everyone had.
Dylan stopped
playing for a second, but when he realized I was all right, he winked at me
with a grin. One of the customers sitting at a nearby table helped me up.
“You okay,
miss?”
“Just incredibly
mortified.” I picked at my wet clothing, trying to unstick my shirt from my
body. He scrambled to help me pick the glasses up off the floor.
“Thank you so
much.”
“You sure you
are okay?”
“I’m fine, thank
you.” I snuck back to the bar. Now not only was I bright red, but completely
self-conscious.
“That was
classic. You fell with such grace,” Brad picked at me.
“Shut up,
Bradley. Oh my god, that was so embarrassing.”
“Are you
kidding? It made my night.”
“You are such a
jerk. Give me some new drinks, please.”
“You sure you
can handle them with pretty boy on the stage?”
“Bradley, shut
up! Can I get off after this? It’s slow and I’m all sticky.”
“It’s almost
closing. You can handle thirty more minutes. There are only three of you.
Besides, if I let you go home before he gets off stage, Dylan will kill me. He
is bigger than I am, so that wouldn’t be good.” He tried to lighten my mood.
“Please? I feel
so gross.”
“You are cute
wet. Now give those customers their drinks. And you are cut off.” He smiled. He
knew I hadn’t had anything to drink.
As I made my way across the floor, hoping no
one would notice me, I glanced to the stage.
Dylan winked at
me again, mouthing, “You okay?”
I just nodded,
even though I was probably damaged for life. I just wanted to go home. Let
me hide for the next . . . eternity. Why wouldn’t Brad let me leave? It was
only thirty minutes. Emily could handle the pitiful crowd.
“Thank you all.
We will see you Tuesday night.” Oh, shit.
They were getting off the stage. I dashed over to the bar.
“Brad, I gotta
go. Can you call me a cab?” Cabs didn’t fill the parking lot on Sunday nights
the way they did on other weekend nights.
Right then I
felt Dylan’s muscular arms wrap themselves around me as his warm body pressed
against mine, trapping me at the bar. He moved my sticky hair away from my neck
and his tongue gently savored it. “Mmm, you taste like Tequila. I couldn’t wait
to get off stage and taste you. You looked so delicious.”
“That was so
embarrassing.” I turned in his arms, facing him.
“I’m just glad you
are all right. You fell with grace, I have to say.” Dylan smiled—such a lie. My
legs and arms had gone hurling through the air with all of the alcohol.
“Yeah, right.” I
lowered my head, totally horrified.
“You are so
adorable when you blush.” He lifted my chin. “You really do taste good. I can’t
wait to get you out of this place and get you home. We’ll have to get you out
of those sticky clothes.”
I playfully
smacked him. “You’re so bad.”
I searched for a
way to say goodnight, but I couldn’t with him so close. I didn’t want to break
free of his arms. I wished I could stay there forever. They felt so safe.
“I can’t go home
with you, Dylan. I’m sorry.”
“Yes, you can. I
promise not to bite.” He kissed my neck.
I pulled away
from him a little bit. “I’m not ready to do anything. If you don’t want to go
out tomorrow I understand.”
He
pressed his finger over my mouth. “Shh, I just want to be with you. If you’re
not ready, then I will wait.” ~Sneak
Peek into The Impostor, A Love Story by Tiffany Carmouche ©2012
Sneak Peek into a scene of Becoming Invisible, the third book in The Alaskan Heart Saga. By Tiffany Carmouché ©2013
Dylan
The light peeking through the curtain of the tiny cabin squeezed through the cracks of Dylan’s eyes. Morning. He tried to roll over onto his side and realized his hand was caught. He yawned, trying to dislodge it and became conscious that both hands were trapped.
What the hell! His hands, they were tied to the bed. He glanced down. His naked body was fuckin’ tied to the bed! Nicole. Nicole was gone. Shit. What the hell happened?
He struggled to break free of the binding, but it tightened as he wrestled with it, cutting off the circulation in his hands. Where the hell is she? Steve captured her. Oh my god! He has her! How the hell did he sleep through it?
Dylan scanned the room for signs of blood, signs of a struggle. She was gone. Steve captured Nicole! He yanked, tugging at the binding. His wallet? His wallet rested open on the dresser in front of him. What the fuck is going on? His eyes drifted to the floor. His clothes were gone. All of them. There was no sign Nicole had even been there. Was he drugged? Why didn’t he wake up?
He thrust his body to the side, trying to break the binding again, throwing his shoulder out of its socket. Ahh. Pain shot through him. He gritted his teeth. He had to find Nicole. He had to save Nicole! Despite the pain, he tried again, propelling his body over. Ouch. He eased back, trying to force his shoulder back into its socket with his body weight.
He must have been drugged. What time is it? He looked over at the digital clock, Six am. What time did we go to sleep?
Dammit! The stabbing pain in his shoulder intensified with every movement. Snap. His face contorted as the shoulder finally jammed back in place.
A shadow passed by the window. Too big to be Nicole. The figure hovered by the door, taunting him. He’s back. He tugged. He pulled. I have got to get up.
The person fidgeted with the doorknob. Someone was trying to come in. He heaved his arm forward again and fractured the wood on the bed frame. He jerked his arm forward again. He had to break free. He had to break free. © 2013 Becoming Invisible
Sneak
Peek into a scene of Beciming Invisible, the third book in The Alaskan
Heart Saga. By Tiffany carmouche ©2013
Nicole
I
couldn’t help it. I stared at him in partial disbelief. What did he see in me?
What did this beautiful Roman God see in me? My hand brushed against his and
his fingers played with mine, lacing our hands together, as he ran his thumb
over skin.
He
gazed down at me. Butterflies danced inside me, but it made no sense. I had
made love to him only hours before, but still his touch, his gentle, non-sexual
touch, excited me and a chill prickled my spine.
“Where
is everyone?” Dylan glanced at his cell. “I can’t wait to tell them the news.”
He bubbled with enthusiasm. God, he was so adorable. The light cast a shadow on his muscular
physique, still apparent in his tight shirt even though his jacket hid much of
it. He truly looked like he belonged in an art museum. Only the work of a
master could have chiseled every line so perfectly. His sculpted cheek bones
revealed his smile as his powerful torso pulled me near.
He
towered over me, so strong and intimidating, but so full of playfulness. .. ©2013 Becoming Invisible
Sneak Peek into a scene of Beciming Invisible, the third book in The Alaskan Heart Saga.
By Tiffany carmouche ©2013
Bradley
He
fidgeted, looking around the kitchen. He had to look natural. How could he
pretend that he wasn’t sitting around all morning holding his breath, waiting
for that door to open and her to emerge?
“Good
morning.” She entered the kitchen. She stretched. The oversized t-shirt he let
her borrow lifted, revealing a little more of her thigh.
He
needed to stay focused. She was Dylan’s girl. She was Dylan’s girl. “So you
decided to rise from the dead?”
“Maybe.
I’m not sure I’m completely alive yet, but nothing a cup of coffee can’t cure.”
She jumped up on the counter, letting her legs dangle off of it.
He
walked over to the coffee pot and poured her a cup, shoveling sugar in it and
adding just enough milk to make it a rich caramel color. He walked over to the
front of her. Her hair was tossed around and her face was bare of make-up. So
fresh. So kissable. He handed her the cup.
Her
hands cradled it. “Mmm, so warm.” She brought the cup to her face, breathing in
the scent and then took a sip. “Oh my God, Bradley, this is perfect.”
“Yeah,
I have to make it extra strong so you can still taste the coffee with all that
stuff you smother it with. So when I drink it black, I almost have a heart
attack.”
“Come
here.” She clutched his shirt, pulling him closer. “Close your eyes.” He felt
the cup touch his lips and she lifted it so the warm sweetness filled his mouth.
It was good. Oh my God, it was delicious. Sinful like. He opened his
eyes.
“Perfection,
right?” She raised her eyebrows.
He
brought his hands up and covered hers, bringing the cup back to his lips to get
another sip. “This is good.” He stole the cup from her hands.
“Hey,
that’s my coffee.”
“Not
anymore.” He stepped back with the mug in his hand.
“Get
your own.” She jumped off the counter. She wasn’t wearing a bra, so her breasts
bounced as she hit the floor. What the hell was she trying to do to him?
He
took another sip. “Oh my God, this is like heaven.”
“Bradley,
it’s mine.” She rushed over to him and he lifted the cup out of her reach. She
raised her arm and tried to grab it, but she couldn’t. She jumped up, trying to
steal the cup. “You are so mean!” Her
body slightly rubbed against his as she fought him for the coffee. His heart
began to beat faster. She smelled so good. He laughed at her failed
attempts.
Then
all of a sudden, she rushed to the sink and picked up a glass, filling it with
water. Before he knew what was going on, she threw it in his face. “Holy shit!”
He stumbled back, stunned.
“This
is war.” She grabbed the black hose connected to the counter and turned the
cold water on full blast.
“Nikki,
what the hell are you doing?” he pleaded as she squirted him. “That’s
freezing!” He put his hand out blocking the spray of water, and put the coffee
cup on the counter.
She
dropped the hose and ran for the cup. Picking it up, she rushed into the living
room, tracking the water through the house.
“You’re
crazy.” He shut off the water and ran after her.
“Don’t
mess with my coffee.” She grinned, savoring her sip, as she stood protected on
the other side of the couch. He lunged left and she lunged right, and as he
rushed around the couch, she climbed over the top and ran to a chair in the
dining room, jumping up on it.
“Now
who’s too short?” She lifted the cup out of his reach. Most of the coffee had
spilled out, but it was the principle of the thing.
“You
forget - I’m stronger than you.” He picked her up by her legs. They were
covered in goose bumps. She grabbed onto his hair, laughing hysterically as he
carried her back into the kitchen.
“Stop.
I’m sorry. You can have it.”
“It’s
too late now. You’re in for it.” He set her down in the kitchen next to the
sink and pinned her against the cabinet. Grabbing the hose, he turned the water
on full blast and held the hose directly over her head.
“That’s
freezing! Oh my God, Bradley. Ahh. Oh
my God. That is cold!” She reached for the hose but it was too high. She
squirmed to get unpinned, but he had trapped her. She reached over and shut off
the water. As he reached to turn it on, she grabbed at the hose, they wrestled,
and he slipped and fell onto the wet floor. She placed her bare foot on his
chest, lifting her arms like a heavy weight champion. He tried not to look at
the wet t- shirt clinging to her body or the beautiful thigh that pinned him
down. She pulled out the hose gun and aimed it at him. “Do you give up?”
“I
do. You win. You crazy woman. You win!”
“Don’t
mess with my coffee.” She reached down to help him up.
He
had a good mind to pull her down in the puddles and roll over on top of her.
God he wanted her. Feisty woman!
As
he stood, he looked around the kitchen. “Look what you’ve done.”
“Me?
You were the one who stole my coffee. That’s the last time I’m sharing with
you.”
„Fericirea mea eşti tu are avantajul că vine după o poveste emoţionantă, pe care o completează, şi că are un epilog ingenios, ce surprinde un instantaneu din viaţa lui Travis şi a lui Abby în viitor." -- Reading, Eating & Dreaming
Jani has been married for a long time to a special man, and her two children and their partners are the sunshine in her life. She is a voracious reader and would spend her last dollar on a book - always fascinated that for the mere price of a book, she can escape her world for a while and see through someone else's eyes.
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Will she be saved or will she be hunted?
Description:
Best Selling Author Tiffany Carmouché has been given the title, The Queen of The Cliffhanger and Best Unknown Author You Need to Discover. When Tiffany Carmouché is not writing suspenseful romance novels, you can find her sculpting, traveling, teaching, singing, dancing, escaping in music or enjoying her family.
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Description:
Tellulah Darling
