Stranded
Stranded
Burned, Felix Sinclair has all but vowed never to get seriously involved with another woman as long as he lives. After a long day's work, Felix is looking forward to getting back to his luxury apartment in the city. When he detours onto a road less traveled in order to shave off some travel time, the last thing he expects is to wind up stranded in a roadside ditch in the middle of a downpour-or to fall into the arms of a beautiful woman.
Recently divorced, jobless, friendless and utterly alone, Poppy Montgomery is struggling to convince herself that single life is what she wants-needs. Then a handsome stranger staggers into her life and sparks fly. Riding out the storm together, their instant connection seems like the perfect opportunity to explore a night of passion, but will one night be enough to satisfy their craving for one another?
Novella (Approx. 20,700 words)
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Reviews
"This is one book that will get you hot under the collar to make sure you get a piece of action yourself afterwards." ~ Angie, Amazon reviewer
"It was spot-on with these characters, and I was lusting right along with Poppy and felt all of the pulse-racing anticipation that she did as she just came undone by this gorgeous temptation!!" ~Swimom, Amazon reviewer
"I loved the characters, the way they met, the progression of the story, the build-up to the romance.... virtually everything about this novella..." ~Gigi, Nightstand Novels
"This was the perfect read to snuggle up with on cold night in bed. This is a short story but only in length. Stranded holds its own and locks you into the story immediately." ~Sara, The Risque Redhead Reads
"...anyone who likes Harlequin romances would like this novella." ~Pati, Amazon reviewer
"It was spot-on with these characters, and I was lusting right along with Poppy and felt all of the pulse-racing anticipation that she did as she just came undone by this gorgeous temptation!!" ~Swimom, Amazon reviewer
"I loved the characters, the way they met, the progression of the story, the build-up to the romance.... virtually everything about this novella..." ~Gigi, Nightstand Novels
"This was the perfect read to snuggle up with on cold night in bed. This is a short story but only in length. Stranded holds its own and locks you into the story immediately." ~Sara, The Risque Redhead Reads
"...anyone who likes Harlequin romances would like this novella." ~Pati, Amazon reviewer
****
Excerpt
The ear-piercing shriek of the teapot prompted Poppy to pull her nose out of the new romance novel she’d picked up at the drugstore earlier that morning. Tossing the throw from her lap, she rose, placing the book on the arm of the sofa. For a moment, she got caught up in staring at the delectable male figure that graced the cover. It had been a long while since she last felt the embrace of a man, tasted firm lips or danced her tongue along the ridges of a muscled abdomen.
Unfortunately, after the hell she had gone through with Jimmy before, during, and after the divorce, if she ever laid her eyes on another man, it would be too soon. He had put her through the wringer, both emotionally and financially. The little turd had left her for his barely legal girlfriend and socked her with the lawyer’s fees and a slew of back taxes and credit card debt that she would be lucky to pay off before she hit retirement. So once a settlement had been reached—the judge decreed that the assets be split down the middle—Poppy hocked everything in the house that she could, sold the house at below market value, and turned over the title to the minivan, then started looking for a new place.
She bought the Victorian fixer upper on a whim. It was located a good mile outside the heart of the city, on a solid stretch of land, and without a single neighbor in sight. It meant that she had to commute for everything she did, but it also put her solidly outside the reach of temptation. Who would want to travel for a date? And more importantly, once she was finished running back and forth from work and running errands, she would be too tired to take up an offer anyway.
It was perfect.
However, she soon found out that it could get quite lonely in the country, alone and with no one to talk to. She didn’t often make phone calls, and internet service in the area was crap, so she couldn’t email anyone either. In an effort to break up the silence, she purchased herself a companion in the form of Bo, a giant Doberman with a heart of gold. He was a rescue dog, his past that of abuse. A jagged scar running from the corner of his left eye down to his lip made him appear ferocious, but beneath it all, he was a sweetheart. They had become quick friends and when he wasn’t keeping watch on the front porch, as he was right now, he was always at her side. With Bo around, she didn’t need a man. He was a great companion, always appreciative, didn’t talk back, and he liked to snuggle. What more could a divorcee ask for?
The whistling was at a fever pitch now, and Poppy sighed. Giving one last fleeting look at the muscle bound lothario, she strode into the kitchen. Steam was shooting toward the ceiling as she removed the pot from the burner and twisted the dial on the stove to snuff out the flame. Pulling her mug with the little blue flowers closer, she began pouring the hot water, then dipped the teabag inside, swirling it with a spoon until the water turned a rich reddish brown.
As she slipped back into her seat, warming her fingers against the warm mug, she took another look at her book. If only men were made as sturdy and delicious as the ones in her novels, she thought longingly. It was like a sales pitch that promised one thing, then delivered another. She had yet to encounter a nearly seven foot man, trimmed in bulging muscle, ruggedly handsome and looking for the one woman he could settle down with so he could complete his life’s mission: to be completely loyal and content with his lot in life.
They just didn’t exist as far as she was concerned.
Still, a girl could dream. Finding the dog-eared page she used to mark her spot, she picked up where she left off.
Malcolm strode into the cottage, the swift breeze tearing at his kilt. “Get over here, wench,” he demanded huskily, his sweat glistened chest rising and falling heavily.
Effie panted at the sight he created, light from the open doorway casting his face in shadow, the edges of his hair all aflame, making him appear as some sort of avenging angel. Heat suffusing her, her every cell gone aquiver, Effie bolted into his open arms and reveled in the sensation of his lips crushing down on hers. Moaning--
A crash of thunder made Poppy nearly jump out of her skin. Placing a hand over her racing heart, she tried to calm her breathing. Letting out an exaggerated breath, she focused her attention back on the story.
Moaning, Effie threw her head back as Malcolm licked his way down her neck, stopping to suck and nibble on the tender flesh. Thrusting her fingers into his hair, she mirrored--
Bo’s harsh bark served as yet another shock to her system. He must have positioned himself right outside the window, she thought with some annoyance. Twisting around, she parted the curtains behind the couch just in time to see the bolt of lightning streak across the sky, bringing with it a moment of daylight. Blinking rapidly, Poppy peered onto the porch, seeing Bo standing at attention at the head of the stairs.
“What are you so wound up about?” she wondered aloud. Bo was never one to be skittish. In fact, he seemed to love thunderstorms almost as much as she did, but now he seemed alert and agitated, if the hair standing up on his back was any indication.
Another roll of thunder and a bolt of lightning cracking across the sky later, and Poppy thought she glimpsed something in the distance. On her knees now, her nose pressed against the glass, her hands cupping her face, she peered into the pervading darkness.
Oh yes, there was definitely something moving out there.
She watched as the inky blob pushed past the gate at the end of the walkway and lurched toward the house. Bo was in a tizzy now, his bark growing harsher and faster, a warning to whatever it was to go away.
As the figure grew nearer, she began to make out more detail. For instance, the blob was now tall and lean, had hair and wore dark clothing. The figure was hunched in on itself and Poppy knew from the slight chill inside that it must be downright freezing outside. The fact that it was raining made the person’s situation that much worse.
Cursing to herself, she leaped backward off the couch, untangled her ankles from the blanket, and rushed to the door. With little thought to what she was wearing, or not wearing, as the case may be, she whipped open the door in time to see Bo bound off the porch and charge the newcomer.
Unfortunately, after the hell she had gone through with Jimmy before, during, and after the divorce, if she ever laid her eyes on another man, it would be too soon. He had put her through the wringer, both emotionally and financially. The little turd had left her for his barely legal girlfriend and socked her with the lawyer’s fees and a slew of back taxes and credit card debt that she would be lucky to pay off before she hit retirement. So once a settlement had been reached—the judge decreed that the assets be split down the middle—Poppy hocked everything in the house that she could, sold the house at below market value, and turned over the title to the minivan, then started looking for a new place.
She bought the Victorian fixer upper on a whim. It was located a good mile outside the heart of the city, on a solid stretch of land, and without a single neighbor in sight. It meant that she had to commute for everything she did, but it also put her solidly outside the reach of temptation. Who would want to travel for a date? And more importantly, once she was finished running back and forth from work and running errands, she would be too tired to take up an offer anyway.
It was perfect.
However, she soon found out that it could get quite lonely in the country, alone and with no one to talk to. She didn’t often make phone calls, and internet service in the area was crap, so she couldn’t email anyone either. In an effort to break up the silence, she purchased herself a companion in the form of Bo, a giant Doberman with a heart of gold. He was a rescue dog, his past that of abuse. A jagged scar running from the corner of his left eye down to his lip made him appear ferocious, but beneath it all, he was a sweetheart. They had become quick friends and when he wasn’t keeping watch on the front porch, as he was right now, he was always at her side. With Bo around, she didn’t need a man. He was a great companion, always appreciative, didn’t talk back, and he liked to snuggle. What more could a divorcee ask for?
The whistling was at a fever pitch now, and Poppy sighed. Giving one last fleeting look at the muscle bound lothario, she strode into the kitchen. Steam was shooting toward the ceiling as she removed the pot from the burner and twisted the dial on the stove to snuff out the flame. Pulling her mug with the little blue flowers closer, she began pouring the hot water, then dipped the teabag inside, swirling it with a spoon until the water turned a rich reddish brown.
As she slipped back into her seat, warming her fingers against the warm mug, she took another look at her book. If only men were made as sturdy and delicious as the ones in her novels, she thought longingly. It was like a sales pitch that promised one thing, then delivered another. She had yet to encounter a nearly seven foot man, trimmed in bulging muscle, ruggedly handsome and looking for the one woman he could settle down with so he could complete his life’s mission: to be completely loyal and content with his lot in life.
They just didn’t exist as far as she was concerned.
Still, a girl could dream. Finding the dog-eared page she used to mark her spot, she picked up where she left off.
Malcolm strode into the cottage, the swift breeze tearing at his kilt. “Get over here, wench,” he demanded huskily, his sweat glistened chest rising and falling heavily.
Effie panted at the sight he created, light from the open doorway casting his face in shadow, the edges of his hair all aflame, making him appear as some sort of avenging angel. Heat suffusing her, her every cell gone aquiver, Effie bolted into his open arms and reveled in the sensation of his lips crushing down on hers. Moaning--
A crash of thunder made Poppy nearly jump out of her skin. Placing a hand over her racing heart, she tried to calm her breathing. Letting out an exaggerated breath, she focused her attention back on the story.
Moaning, Effie threw her head back as Malcolm licked his way down her neck, stopping to suck and nibble on the tender flesh. Thrusting her fingers into his hair, she mirrored--
Bo’s harsh bark served as yet another shock to her system. He must have positioned himself right outside the window, she thought with some annoyance. Twisting around, she parted the curtains behind the couch just in time to see the bolt of lightning streak across the sky, bringing with it a moment of daylight. Blinking rapidly, Poppy peered onto the porch, seeing Bo standing at attention at the head of the stairs.
“What are you so wound up about?” she wondered aloud. Bo was never one to be skittish. In fact, he seemed to love thunderstorms almost as much as she did, but now he seemed alert and agitated, if the hair standing up on his back was any indication.
Another roll of thunder and a bolt of lightning cracking across the sky later, and Poppy thought she glimpsed something in the distance. On her knees now, her nose pressed against the glass, her hands cupping her face, she peered into the pervading darkness.
Oh yes, there was definitely something moving out there.
She watched as the inky blob pushed past the gate at the end of the walkway and lurched toward the house. Bo was in a tizzy now, his bark growing harsher and faster, a warning to whatever it was to go away.
As the figure grew nearer, she began to make out more detail. For instance, the blob was now tall and lean, had hair and wore dark clothing. The figure was hunched in on itself and Poppy knew from the slight chill inside that it must be downright freezing outside. The fact that it was raining made the person’s situation that much worse.
Cursing to herself, she leaped backward off the couch, untangled her ankles from the blanket, and rushed to the door. With little thought to what she was wearing, or not wearing, as the case may be, she whipped open the door in time to see Bo bound off the porch and charge the newcomer.
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