I live in Canada, and contrary to what some people believe, we don't live in igloos, don't all say "eh" and "aboot" and we don't all spend all year on the ski slopes J. I grew up in a city, so the only skiing I ever did was when I was about ten and I saved my allowance to buy a pair of those little plastic skis that were about a foot long and strapped on my feet over my clunky winter boots. I spent hours skiing down the "hill" at the back of our house, which was little more than a graded slope. Still, it was high enough for me, considering I have a phobia about heights. Now, I'm all grown up and I live in ski country, but to be honest, I prefer aprés-ski (drinking hot cider in the chalet in front of a roaring fire) to freezing my behind off.
Winterlude, my short contemporary romance, is set in a ski resort in Vermont. Not on the ski slopes, but inside, where it's toasty warm. Nicole has been protected her whole life. Now, she's looking for some action, and sets her sights on Dylan, the one man whose career depends on resisting her.
What the hell ...?
No way! There was no way the gorgeous blonde with the shapely legs and tempting behind could be his boss's daughter. That sure as hell wasn't the same face as the one in the photo on Aubrey's desk. Granted, the photo had been taken at Nicole's high school graduation, but she couldn't have changed that much. Could she?
What were the odds there would be two Nicole St. Clair's in the same place at the same time? A million to one, at least. But that was the only explanation, because the woman who was practically offering him sex a few minutes ago couldn't possibly be the woman he'd promised to take care of, to bring back to Atlanta safe and sound. Untouched.
God couldn't be that cruel.
What had happened to the little mouse he'd seen eight years ago cowering in the corner of the St. Clair mansion library? He remembered trying to be strike up a conversation with the girl, hoping that by befriending the daughter, he would impress his new boss into giving him a promotion.
The girl had practically fainted. Her face had flamed, then she'd grabbed a handful of chocolates and buried her head even deeper into the book on her lap. Someone had spoken to him then, and he'd immediately forgotten her.
Could that girl really have grown into the goddess climbing the stairs? Fairy tales, metaphors - they all jumbled in his mind. The ugly duckling turning into the swan, the butterfly emerging from its cocoon. It looked like that was exactly what had happened. The child had become a woman, the woman Dylan wanted in his bed. The woman he couldn't have.
As if she knew he was watching, she turned and smiled, lifting her hand in a tiny wave before she disappeared from view.
God was indeed that cruel, it seemed. Here was a woman who made his insides boil with nothing more than a look and a few words, a woman who'd made it perfectly clear she was interested in more than sharing a meal, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
Nicole was expecting sex. He'd played the game enough to recognize the signs. And the signals she was sending out were strong enough for a blind man to see.
Damn! What was he going to do now?
Winterlude is available on Amazon
Visit me on my website http://www.margeryscott.com
Follow me on Facebook and Twitter