Bites Of Books - Hustled To The Altar

When I completed and submitted my thirtieth book, I decided to celebrate by offering a taste from each one. This book, however, is available in its entirety through Instafreebie when you join my mailing list. Read on for a sample.

Hustled To The Altar was the first book I finished that earned enough recognition I thought I might actually have a shot at a publishing career. It finaled in several contests, including the Golden Heart, and even earned me an agent.

Alas, one thing and another happened and all of that fizzled, but I always believed in this story so I eventually self-published it. It stands alone in my repertoire as a very shoe-shine-shuffle caper with a fast-paced plot where all the action takes place in one day. 
As such, the chapter headings are times of day. This is what happens at 1:45 p.m. Note: Renny is engaged to Jacob, for many wrong reasons, and Con is her ex. 
~ * ~
Her reasons for resisting him became foggy and, besides, he had surprised her. Con was fun and exciting and wickedly charming when he wanted to be, but he used humor to keep people at a distance. He said things like “You’re beautiful,” and “I want you,” never “I need you.” He had come close just now. He had told her he valued their relationship, had implied he would have come after her. It seduced her as thoroughly as the feel of his pulse in his neck hammering against her palm, compelling her to keep him close and hold onto the moment.
When he moved to find her lips, she intended to resist, but he didn’t come at her like he had something to prove. He slid his fingers into her hair like he was gathering up something precious and he paused—waiting to see if she would reject him, she realized. When she didn’t say anything, he didn’t laugh, didn’t narrow his eyes with triumph. He let his eyes half close and tilted his head as he parted his lips over hers.
His lips were warm, damp, oh so nice to rub her own against. He waited until the fit was sweet and perfect, increased the pressure, and gently invaded.
She let him in. She opened her mouth and absorbed his taste and stroked his tongue with hers because she had missed this. Before Con, she hadn’t considered herself a particularly sensuous person, but he was so tactile, constantly touching and stroking and nuzzling, so that when they finally did make love, it was often a combustible end to a full day of foreplay. She discovered deprivation had the same effect on her. Kissing him after months of abstinence made her greedy for the whole package. She slid her arms around his neck and sank into the pleasure they gave each other.
The kiss changed from sweet to passionate, from tentative to fully involved. He braced her back against the window and became more the man she knew, intensely focused and uninhibited. Sweeping his hands down her body, he bunched the hem of her dress up to her waist, exposing her thighs to cool air and anyone at street level who cared to look up.
“People can see—”
With a soft grunt, he lifted her so she was at his eye level and guided her legs around his waist, turned, and took a dozen steps away from the window before sinking to his knees. She felt the carpet beneath her and the weight of him settling between her legs, and pulled his head down to kiss and kiss and kiss him.
This was so like Con. Not a bed, not even a sofa. The floor, the windowsill, the edge of a bathtub. And it had been so long, too long, since they’d been like this. Hot and breathless and God, he excited her. Her hands roamed over his shoulders, into the neckline of his shirt, seeking the hot, hair-roughened skin she adored. When she didn’t find enough of it, she yanked at the tail of his shirt, but their bodies trapped it. She wiggled her fingers.
He let out a shocked laugh and lifted. “No tickling.”
She pressed her smiling lips against his. “Don’t stop kissing me.”
“Quit talking.”
“You’re stopping.”
He laughed and chased her moving lips, both of them grinning and kissing with wet noises.
“I’ve missed this,” she said, not able to admit it was him she had missed. She clasped his head and kissed him all over his face, pushing her fingers into his hair and forcing him to lift his head and expose his neck. She tasted his skin and made him shudder and felt drunk.
“I can’t touch enough of you.” Braced on one elbow, he pushed the rest of her skirt out of the way and dragged his shirt free so the bare skin of his waist met the inside of her bent leg. Instinctively, she lifted her hips, pressing herself against the shape of his erection, rolling her hips so they both groaned.
She skimmed her hands over his chest, up his sides, raking her nails gently and feeling him go taut.
With a growling noise, he scraped his teeth against the upper slopes of her breasts, biting lightly and licking and kissing the valley between them. “I’ve wanted to do this all day.”
“Touch me here.” She guided his hand from the back of her knee to the crease of her hip.
“Oh, Ren, it’s going to be hard and fast.” He slid his fingertips beneath the elastic of her underpants and curled his hand into a fist as he prepared to tear them off. “I haven’t been with anyone else. Are you still on the pill? Open your eyes and tell me it’s okay.”
“Me either. I am. It’s ok—” She opened her eyes and saw the jamb of the broken bedroom door above them. She frowned, starting to realize this was wrong, wrong, wrong.
There was a funny clicking sound and Con froze, too. His expression went grim and his hand flattened on her stomach.
As her muddled brain clued in that she was hearing the outer door opening, she pushed at Con’s chest.
He stayed where he was, between her legs, pinning her to the floor with his immovable shape so she could only raise her head. She did, looking over Con’s shoulder to see Jacob standing at their feet.
“Renny?” he asked warily.
Con hitched himself onto his elbow and looked up at Jacob. “I guess you’re wondering how we’re making out.”
~ * ~
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