Molly Ann
Wishlade – Trying Too Hard
Release date: 29th January 2014
Publisher: Carina UK
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance
Blurb
What’s the French word for lust…?
Hired as an intern at a coveted talent agency, blonde bubbly Catrin Owens knew she could be brilliant at the job. The code of conduct is crystal clear – business is business, pleasure is pleasure…and the two should never, ever meet! No problem for Catrin - she’s hardworking, and determined to excel. Until, that is, she meets the 6 ft-something wall of lean muscle that is her boss’ top client…
Scarred, and brimming with forbidden sex appeal, the French rugby star Henri Chevallier crashes through the walls of Catrin’s neatly-ordered life – and throws her polished professionalism aside like a scrap of sheer French lingerie!
The sex is fierce, exhilarating…life-changing – and almost all the more exciting as she knows she’s risking the career she dreamed of. Catrin knows she should step away. The problem? Henri is a temptation she can’t seem to resist…
Hired as an intern at a coveted talent agency, blonde bubbly Catrin Owens knew she could be brilliant at the job. The code of conduct is crystal clear – business is business, pleasure is pleasure…and the two should never, ever meet! No problem for Catrin - she’s hardworking, and determined to excel. Until, that is, she meets the 6 ft-something wall of lean muscle that is her boss’ top client…
Scarred, and brimming with forbidden sex appeal, the French rugby star Henri Chevallier crashes through the walls of Catrin’s neatly-ordered life – and throws her polished professionalism aside like a scrap of sheer French lingerie!
The sex is fierce, exhilarating…life-changing – and almost all the more exciting as she knows she’s risking the career she dreamed of. Catrin knows she should step away. The problem? Henri is a temptation she can’t seem to resist…
Excerpt
“There you are!”
The voice was
like silk against Catrin’s skin and a flicker of lust darted like a hot tongue
between her legs. The poky, clinical office kitchen suddenly seemed too warm,
its aroma of burnt toast overpowering. The air conditioning hummed in vain as
Catrin’s body was flooded with heat.
The new
arrival took hold of her shoulders in large, powerful hands and pushed her
towards the counter so that her stomach pressed against the hard melamine edge.
Her heart picked up its pace. The fine hairs on the back of her neck pricked
up.
“Catrin,” he
whispered into her right ear, causing a blonde tendril of hair that had freed
itself from her chignon to flutter.
“Yes?” she
whispered, her nipples tightening in anticipation.
“I missed you
this morning.” He nibbled her earlobe. She shivered as he ran his fingers
slowly down her sides.
“Henri.” She
leaned into his warmth, felt the strength of his stomach muscles against her
back, his heat searing through her thin blouse. “I had to get back to my
apartment. You know...feed the cat.”
“What cat?” he
said, trickling slow kisses down her neck then sliding his hands under her arms
to cup her breasts.
She sighed as
his exquisite touch fired her passion and her breathing quickened. She slid
around in his arms then pressed a trembling hand upon his broad chest.
“Please,
Henri…”
“What is it, chérie?” He tipped her chin upwards with
a fingertip and his cologne washed over her. She savoured the fresh green woody
tones. At their edge she could make out something else, something even more
delicious: his musky masculine scent. It made her want to open his shirt and
press her face against his belly to breathe him in.
“I can’t keep
going like this,” she smiled, trying to regain her composure but desire pulsed
through her core like a lusty demon possession.
“Like what,
Catrin?”
He reached out
and stroked the back of his free hand over her black satin skirt and she
groaned, moving towards him even though a voice at the back of her mind
reprimanded her. He laughed softly at her body’s betrayal and turned his hand
around, pressing it against the apex of her thighs and cupping the ready flesh
beneath.
She slumped
against the counter, her eyes half-closed. Her legs turned to jelly as he
lifted her skirt to her thighs.
Here I go again!
Her common
sense drifted away like cobwebs on the wind and her body revealed her true
emotions with every breath she took.
“Oh, t’es la plus belle femme du monde!”
he gasped.
“Sorry?”
“Pardon, chérie!” he laughed. “I said
that you are the most beautiful woman in the world.”
“Oh,” she
smiled, “Thank you.” She loved it when Henri spoke his own language but wished
that she could understand him better. A GCSE in French hadn’t equipped her for
communicating with a French lover.
She relaxed
and closed her eyes again as he ran his hands over her thighs.
“And this is
what I love about you!”
Her eyes shot
open.
Love?
He pushed her
skirt right up to her hips then fingered the tops of her hold-ups and she
realised what he meant. This Frenchman loved a woman’s body with all the
trimmings, which was lucky as she liked pretty underwear. It was just more fun
to have someone to appreciate it.
Mere moments
ago she’d been spooning two sugars into her coffee cup, desperately in need of
a caffeine fix after yet another long night of French loving with the handsome
rugby player.
She was
exhausted. Exhilarated. Still horny.
It was hard to
believe that it was only two nights ago, on a rather cold, drizzly July evening
that she’d accompanied her boss – the renowned celebrity agent Liam H. Clarkson
– to an annual dinner. It had been the sixth anniversary of the establishment
of Clarkson and Gwillam Celebrity Agency. It now had five branches across
Europe, with the possibility of further growth, so spirits were at an all-time
high.
And it had
been there, deep in the cavernous candlelit corridors and ante-chambers of
Cardiff Castle, polished, manicured and poured into her best lbd, that Catrin
had met Henri.
And since
then, her feet hadn’t touched the ground!
Molly’s links:
Trying Too Hard buy links:
Thanks so much for having me over! ;)
ReplyDelete