Monday, January 8, 2018

Love on the Run Can Be Fun #RomanticSuspense #MustRead

Every week in 2018, we will be indulging in steamy love scenes to pump up our positive mindset! Who says Mondays need to be dreary? Not me! Make sure to subscribe to the blog so you don't miss out! 

Molten Monday features Kiss Me Slowly, 
romantic suspense by Amber Lea Easton

Trapped in a set-up that could have him in jail or dead by Monday, Jonathan Alexander trusts no one in his inner circle. It’s Saturday. His only hope is Grace Dupont, the best forensic accountant in Miami. But there’s a glitch with that idea. She’s also his ex-girlfriend who'd rather watch him drown than throw him a life vest. Going to her feels desperate…because he is.

Grace enjoys seeing Jonathan squirm. On your knees boy, she thinks as he pitches for her help. Always a sucker for the dark-haired-blue-eyed boys, she risks her precariously balanced life of secrets to help him. Helping him slaps a target on her back–she’s the key to proving his innocence and that’s a bad, bad thing.

Tangled up in a whirlwind of conspiracy, murder, million dollar money trails and diamond smuggling, Jonathan and Grace flee to the sea to stall for time to prove his innocence. Romance sizzles beneath Florida Keys’ sunshine. Both scoff at happy endings. Both doubt justice. Both know each kiss could be their last.

Sexy excerpt: Adult Content

“You are such a smart-ass.” He grabbed her arm. “Do you even see how you diverted the conversation from you and Alejandro? What’s wrong, Grace? Can’t claim your own tainted wings?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Do not walk out that door.” He yanked her against him.

“Let me go.”

Before he knew what had happened, she had twisted free and held both of his hands behind his back with his face pressed against the kitchen wall.

“I should have kept right on sailing last night, dropped you off here to wait for Jerry and been on my way. I’d be in the Virgin Islands by now.” Hot breath licked his neck.

“Why didn’t you?” He twisted free and faced her.

Hair stuck to her mouth. Eyes flashed with anger. Chest heaved with rage.

“Because I don’t give up.” Her fists pelted his chest. “I’m not giving up on you.”

“You’re not giving up on me?” He grabbed her face between his hands and dropped his forehead against hers. “I thought you were sailing off into the sunset, leaving me behind?”

“Bluffing.” Fists stopped their assault.

His rage cooled to a simmer. Repressed energy snapped through his veins.

“I think we lost our cool,” he said.

An answering grin tilted her mouth. “You think?”

“Just for a minute.” He slid his hands into her hair and tangled his fingers there.

“Can you do something for me, Jon?”

He opened his eyes. He wanted to be inside this woman, to have her wrapped around him, to forget his life, to erase the fear of what might happen tomorrow. He wanted her. Now. Here. Any way he could have her. All ways possible.

“Kiss me.” She licked her lips. “Slowly.”

“Slowly?” He pressed her against the wall, one hand moving beneath the tank top. “You ask a lot.”

“I am a demanding woman.” She kissed his neck, hands dipping beneath the waistband of his shorts.

He liked demanding. Smiling, he stood back long enough to pull the shirt over her head. Beautiful. Both hands cupped her breasts, thumbs caressed her nipples.

“Let’s get naked.” She grinned, wet hair veiling half of her face.

He pulled off his shirt while she unsnapped his shorts. Her hand moved over his erection with the ease she had shown sailing her ship. Possessive. Confident. The thought turned him on even more.

He fisted his hands in her hair and pressed her against the wall. Eyes open to one another, they kissed. Slowly. It took all of his self-control to rein in the urge to ravage her. They savored one another’s mouths. He pulled away when she tried to deepen the kiss. If she wanted slow, he would give her slow. He would torture her with slowness.

His mouth sucked her lower lip, pulling, teasing. Tongues danced together in a slow waltz. He released her hair to travel over the length of her. Breasts filled his hands. His erection pressed against her flat abdomen.

She rose up, arms around him, and moaned into his mouth. “My room. Upstairs.”

“Here. Now.”

“I want to make the most of you, sailor boy. We need a bed. A big one.”

Well, he couldn’t argue with that idea.

Without breaking contact, they moved toward the stairs. Lips clung together. Eyes watched each other, lids half open. Every inch of him throbbed with the need to be inside of her, to make her beg for release.

She stumbled but he caught her.

“Why the hell do you still have pants on?” he asked. He lowered her back against the steps and pulled the pants over her legs.

Propped on her elbows against the stairs, she smiled when he licked the inside of her thigh. “I’m sorry I said slowly.”

“Too late,” he whispered against the silkiness of her abdomen. He kissed her navel while his hand pushed her panties down.

He slipped his fingers inside of her as he rose up to claim her mouth again. He wanted to come. He hadn’t even been inside her yet and he wanted to come. Squeezing his eyes closed, he broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers.

“I need you inside me. Now. Forget the damn bed.” Her thighs wrapped around him.

“Next time,” he agreed.

He plunged inside of her and rocked away the anxiety. She clung to him, lips against his neck, nails biting into his shoulder, thighs holding him inside. He braced himself against the stairs with his hands over her head. He couldn’t get deep enough, wanted to be as far into her as he could possibly be, wanted her to know she had been possessed by him, wanted her to feel him inside her for days.

She called out his name against his neck. Her body quaked beneath him. Her hands were in his hair, holding him close. Mouths found one another and savored, lingered… And he came with a ferocity that sent the world spinning.

Available in all eBook formats and paperback

Amber Lea Easton is a multi-published author of romantic thrillers, contemporary romance, women's fiction, and nonfiction. In addition, Easton also writes under two pen names--Dakota Skye (erotic paranormal romance thrillers) and Cassidy Springfield (new adult). She also works as a professional editor and creativity coach, creates a line of inspirational journals, travels as often as possible, and advocates for suicide awareness. To find out more about her books, please visit

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