so-called “inked god” she dumped on TV.
her. I’ve tried to move on.
her family is opening a new restaurant next to my tattoo parlor.
I’d offer my congratulations and go my own way.
I’d let her be . . . but I’m not.
Rose may claim I’m nothing more than a friend, but that slight hitch in her
breath whenever I get too close says that America’s sweetheart is nothing
but a liar.
takes is one scorching kiss, and I vow in her ear: “You’re going to beg, Savannah. Beg me to touch
you, beg me to give you more, and if you’re real good, maybe I’ll do it all
over again before you have to beg for that too.”
Savannah Rose? She’s no one’s sweetheart but mine.
romances, though she may or may not have a few historical romances hiding
in the cobwebs of her computer.
and the sassy women who sweep them off their feet, Maria is a historian who
specializes in medieval England and 19th century New Orleans. What do the
two eras have in common, you ask? Not much, except for disease, scandalous
activities and crime–Maria’s favorite topics.
better half, where she can generally be found hiking with her two dogs, Zeus
and Athena, kayaking in Louisiana’s inter-coastal waterways, or curled up on
the couch with a good book.