In the meantime I have a book releasing October 30. You may have read, you may not. It's the first interracial romance I ever penned. Mistletoe Mambo.
Blurb: Only one man dances to the music of Madeline’s heart.
She was aware of the crowd parting to accommodate their slow foxtrot, but she kept her focus on Max. Her knees wobbled so badly, if she ignored the intensity of his gaze she might stumble. He held her closer than necessary. Each glide of his hips brought his erection against her thigh. Surprised, she held her breath. Was it possible the attraction wasn’t one-sided, after all?
As if sensing her thoughts, he winged a brow. When his hand drifted lower on her hip, her heart thudded harder. Maybe he was flirting with her and merely used their dance as an excuse to hold her. Or perhaps this was wishful thinking on her part. Dancing wasn’t unusual at the Christmas party, but somehow dancing with him, knowing how she felt made the experience more exhilarating. Each brush of his pelvis sent an answering tremor through her body. She wanted more than three or four minutes in his arms. For a brief second, she rested her head on his shoulder. He tapped her right arm and she rotated into a spin. She completed two turns before he clasped her hand and drew her against the heat of his body once again.
She became lost in the depths of his eyes, glimpsing a longing she never noticed before as they circled the dance floor. The strength of his arm clasped her waist. The sure grip of his hand tightened on hers and the smooth texture of his trousers met her skin when he dipped her over his leg. Every nerve ending crackled at the sensual slide of his hard, powerful thigh beneath her bare back. He pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat and she forgot to breathe.
He stood her upright and glided them around the well-worn linoleum. Amazement must have shown on her face because he smirked. She followed his lead, too unsettled to do anything else. Did his little kiss mean he was interested, or was that just part of the dance? One more twirl around the floor, and then his steps slowed. Swaying in time to the music, he held her in his arms.
All too soon the song ended and they were forced to bow when thunderous applause cascaded through the room. Madeline pressed her hands to her cheeks while she struggled to catch her breath. She cast a sidelong glance at Max, his hand resting in the small of her back.
“I love dancing with you,” he whispered, leading her to the edge of the dance floor. “The scent of your perfume, the slide of your skin against mine, and when I lift you in my arms all I can think about is the way you would taste.” He squeezed her bottom.
Until next time, Indulge Your Inner Romantic