Title:
Say When
Author: Tara West
Series: Something More (#1)
Genre: Adult Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Shifting Sands Publishing
Release Date: July 19 2013
He told me to say when, but I can’t. Not with Andrés. It’s
so hard to say anything when he’s trailing feather soft kisses down my neck, or
when his touch sends hot currents of lust rippling across my skin.
Then there’s the way he smiles and offers soft words of
encouragement when I’m creating art, almost like he believes I have talent.
He’s not like any guy I’ve ever met. Not like my ex-fiancée.
Not like my father. He’s got me thinking that maybe we can have something more.
More than just lust, degradation, and abuse.
And now I’m scared, because that means I’ll have to trust
him with more than just my body, but with my heart, too.
Christina Duval
***Warning: this book contains
graphic language, sex, and mature situations. Not intended for young adult
readers.***
A
former Texas high school teacher, I enjoyed coaching the writing team and even
the hectic deadlines that came with running the school publications. After
taking a break to raise my baby girl, I now work from home as a cover artist.
In my spare time, I loves to read, exercise and spend time
with family and friends. I contribute the cover art for my Whispers Series and
have designed covers for over 500 other books.
Please visit me at http://www.tarawestauthor.wordpress.com/
or www.tarawest.com where you can check out
my Whispers series and sample my artwork.
Scene from chapter four...
“So how old are you today, mija?” He asks as he takes a swig
from his bottle.
A blush
creeps into my cheeks. I’ve heard Spanish speakers use “mija” as a term of
endearment. I regain my composure long enough to answer. “Twenty-one.”
His eyes
widen. “Wow. Special night. How come you’re sitting here with me?”
I laugh.
Sexy and funny. Jackson would have never made such a joke. He always pretends I
should be flattered he picked me out of his throng of money-grubbing admirers.
“I just
broke it off with my fiancé,” I say, while trying to shake off dark memories of
fart breath, sex and puking. I am so ready to move past Jackson. So ready. I
realize the only reason I’ve clung to this failing relationship so long is
because of my mother. But too bad. I
take a long drink of beer, before swiping my hand across my lips. It’s my life.
Time to live it how I want. Or so I keep telling myself. I only hope my resolve
will still be strong tomorrow after the beer buzz has worn off.
Andrés is
looking at me. I read the uncertainty in his gaze as he holds himself ramrod
straight. “Why’d you break up?”
“He treats
me like shit,” I say. Then I avert my gaze, realizing I’ve said too much. I
don’t want Andrés knowing I allowed a guy to treat me like a door mat. If he
thinks I’m strong, maybe he’ll know better than to treat me like shit, too.
Maybe he won’t be like other guys. “I don’t want to talk about him,” I say as I
look at Andrés. I tilt my chin and do my best to put on a brave face.
Andrés
takes a step back, smiles, and holds out his hand. “You want to dance?”
I can’t
help but smile. “Yes, but I’ve had a few drinks and I’m a bit wobbly.” I point
down at my heels, which have become the bane of my existence. I make a mental
note to throw them in a dumpster as soon as I get my hands on a decent pair of
shoes.
“It’s a slow song,” he says and nods toward
the dance floor.
I follow
his gaze, to the couples clutching each other tightly while slowly moving to
the rhythm. I hadn’t noticed the music changed.
It’s an old song by Rascal Flats, something sappy that always makes me
want to pull my hair out by the roots. Maybe it’s because it’s hard to identify
with a song that talks about romance and forever, but I think I can enjoy this
song with Andrés.
I
tentatively give him my hand, and he pulls me to the floor. He wraps his arms
around me as if holding me is second nature. I let out a slow breath as I force
my stupid nerves to calm down. I’ve always hated being short. With these heels,
I’m barely five foot six, but as I lean into his hard chest, pressing my head
against his shoulder, I think we fit perfectly together.
Another
slow song, by Carrie Underwood, follows. I wind my arms around Andrés’s waist,
relishing the feel of him.
He leans
down, his breath a hot whisper in my ear. “Christina, I’m usually not this
open, but when I met you at that gas station, I thought you were the prettiest
girl I’d ever seen.”
My heart
soars as my brain seizes on that thought. Okay, he obviously likes me. Awesome!
“I’m not
usually this open, either, but…” I pause as I bite my lip, silently cursing
myself for being so stupid. I’m about to say too much. I’m about to make Andrés
think I’m a total slut. And I’m not. In fact, Jackson is the only guy I’ve ever
been with. Well, the only guy I’ve ever offered myself to willingly.
“But
what?” he asks me.
I close my
eyes and try to channel the Christina from earlier this evening. The Christina
who speaks up for herself and tells people exactly how she feels. Even though
what I want right now is very, very bad, that voice inside me is telling me to
take it. I open my eyes and I can see the lust in his dark gaze reflecting back
at me. I know he’s feeling exactly how I feel. I steel my resolve and summon the
courage to speak. “I want to go home with you.”
Thank you, Mary Lynn!
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