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Soul Satisfying Reads
Never Too Late for Love
Never Too Late for Love
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"Who says romance belongs only to the young and restless? Never Too Late For Love is a fine romance between 47-year old Tiffany Eastman and 55-year old Jason Cates. It is also the story of healing of a remarkably strong and fine woman.
Tiffany has left behind a lousy marriage and an alcohol addiction problem to start life anew in St Louis.
With such high hopes for the future, Tiffany is going to her own woman at last. And as a bonus, she is going to be boarding up with hunky Dr Jason Cates, heart surgeon, who is the father of her roommate/surrogate daughter back in Atlanta.
Unfortunately, Jason is still reluctant to let go of the memories of his wife Diana. Hmm. But no fear, Tiffany will fix that. Never Too Late For Love is the story of just that. No murder, no screaming fits, just a nice, slow and easy romance. And it works, although many things could go wrong." ~ Mrs. Giggles
~Excerpt~
He looked at her, and she knew what he was thinking. She knew he wanted her just as much she wanted him. A spell hung between them, the primal attraction between a man and a woman. Was it the pheromones hanging in the air? The scent of a mate.
They reached the porch, but Jason hesitated at the door as if he were loath to go inside. She didn’t want to break the spell between them either. They looked at each other, and he pulled her to him. He bent his head and touched her lips gently. A gasp caught in her throat.
He deepened the kiss, and his hunger ignited hers.
They both reached for the door simultaneously and stumbled through the house. They fell on the first cushioned surface they came across, the couch in front of the fireplace. He was on top of her. The weight of his body pressed her into the soft cushions of the couch. He trailed tiny kisses across her jawline, then returned to devour her mouth.
She arched against him, feeling his hardness pressed against her lower abdomen. Seemingly of their own volition, her legs parted, bringing her feminine softness against him. A purely masculine growl sounded deep in his throat. Slow, deep grind.
He raised, and she reached for him, needing, wanting, to feel all of him, but he was unbuttoning her blouse and exposing her lacy bra, white against her chocolate skin.
Tiffany has left behind a lousy marriage and an alcohol addiction problem to start life anew in St Louis.
With such high hopes for the future, Tiffany is going to her own woman at last. And as a bonus, she is going to be boarding up with hunky Dr Jason Cates, heart surgeon, who is the father of her roommate/surrogate daughter back in Atlanta.
Unfortunately, Jason is still reluctant to let go of the memories of his wife Diana. Hmm. But no fear, Tiffany will fix that. Never Too Late For Love is the story of just that. No murder, no screaming fits, just a nice, slow and easy romance. And it works, although many things could go wrong." ~ Mrs. Giggles
~Excerpt~
He looked at her, and she knew what he was thinking. She knew he wanted her just as much she wanted him. A spell hung between them, the primal attraction between a man and a woman. Was it the pheromones hanging in the air? The scent of a mate.
They reached the porch, but Jason hesitated at the door as if he were loath to go inside. She didn’t want to break the spell between them either. They looked at each other, and he pulled her to him. He bent his head and touched her lips gently. A gasp caught in her throat.
He deepened the kiss, and his hunger ignited hers.
They both reached for the door simultaneously and stumbled through the house. They fell on the first cushioned surface they came across, the couch in front of the fireplace. He was on top of her. The weight of his body pressed her into the soft cushions of the couch. He trailed tiny kisses across her jawline, then returned to devour her mouth.
She arched against him, feeling his hardness pressed against her lower abdomen. Seemingly of their own volition, her legs parted, bringing her feminine softness against him. A purely masculine growl sounded deep in his throat. Slow, deep grind.
He raised, and she reached for him, needing, wanting, to feel all of him, but he was unbuttoning her blouse and exposing her lacy bra, white against her chocolate skin.
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