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Congratulations to Cathy Brockman, winner of Flynn's Kiss for commenting on the Book Boyfriend Blog Hop.
Blurb
Severely scarred during a disastrous mission, ex special
forces Flynn Swann is home after three years of avoidance. By his own admission,
he’s no good with women and the last thing he expects or wants is the attention
of a curvy little brunette, who’s just passing through.
With apparently no fear or revulsion of his scarred face,
the boisterous woman bounds into his life and destroys all hope of a quiet
visit. It is obvious to literally everyone that she wants him—all of him.
Worse still, despite her atrocious taste in fashion and
Stetsons, she appears to have won the hearts of the entire town.
Scientist Liberty Sophia Glennon is on a mission to find
a man before she has to return to the loneliness of the New Zealand outback
where she has already spent eighteen lonely months doing research.
A ticking hormone bomb, Liberty feels time is running
away with her. Outwardly she is a bouncing ball of over-confidence, but inside
she is still a frightened little girl with horrific memories of her childhood
and a desperate need to be liked.
Completely unfazed by his external scars, her seduction
of Flynn is not so difficult, but follow-through proves painful as Liberty
realizes Flynn’s wounds run further than just skin deep.
With apparently nothing in common but their passionate
attraction, how will these two damaged souls deal with each other’s fear of
rejection?
Excerpt
He was pretty sure
the sun was affecting his brain as he took a few swift gulps of water and
readjusted himself as the thought of Liberty made him harden and swell, making
him pretty uncomfortable in the armchair of a saddle.
Sunlight burned
the back of his retinas, so after four hours of riding, he could have sworn
blind he was hallucinating when those scorched-out eyes focused on a spot of
bright, glowing white almost on the horizon. A little beacon.
He strained his
vision in the vain hope he might be wrong, but as he approached, he knew
fucking well it was the bouncy brunette with another goddamn awful excuse for a
hat perched upon her head. Some ignorant bastard had taken a perfectly good
Stetson and colored it up white. Stark white.
Fuck.
The yellow one
with the dead bird wrapped around it had been an obscenity and had been quickly
squashed. It wasn’t deliberate, and he still had the pretty little feathers in
the breast pocket of his shirt for some reason beyond his own comprehension.
But this hat was even worse.
He scanned her
campsite as he advanced on her. She seemed to have managed to unsaddle the
horse and unload the pack pony and was seated on a deep pink blanket on the
ground, leaning comfortably with her back up against the saddle.
Fuck.
Flynn’s Kiss Buy
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Saxon
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