Sunday, April 5, 2015

When Your Ex Returns as a #Ghost...Yeah, THAT. #EroticRomance

Think you have problems with your ex? Well, what if he returned as a ghost? Sierra is having a hard enough time moving on with her life, but she never thought she'd be caught up in a love triangle with the ghost of her murdered finance. 
Featuring a sexy excerpt from Blurred Lines...

"You're so beautiful," Shane's voice echoed through her memory. "I'm the luckiest man in the world to be loved by you."
She squeezed her eyes closed and indulged in remembering him holding her, kissing her, making her believe in fairy tales and love stories.
"I'm here. See me." The voice startled her from indulging. Clear. Deep.

Dropping the corkscrew, she swiveled around and glanced across the room. No one. Only the empty kitchen with its clean marble countertops and gleaming pans met her vision.
"I really am losing my mind," she muttered as she skipped the glass and drank straight from the bottle.
Endless days of work on the set of a hit television series took its toll. The stress of having to mesh with a partner had given her anxiety attacks, not that she'd ever admit that to anyone. In show business, writers were only as good as the ratings of the most recent show. Fickle. Not exactly the safe life in academia she'd once envisioned for herself.
She dropped her iPhone into the stereo after making sure to put it on 'do not disturb', scrolled down to her favorite playlist, and kicked off her shoes. Music filled the room, drowning out any imagined ghost voices. Settling onto the sofa with the bottle nuzzled against her chest, she watched flames snap and crackle.
She could see Shane without closing her eyes. Often she'd imagine seeing him in a crowd, his tall silhouette a head above the others on the street. Sometimes she would see him at their favorite restaurant sitting at the bar while she picked up her take-out after another late night at the office. She'd always do a double take only to find him gone, a figment of her imagination.
Dreams were the most vivid. She would wake up and swear she'd been touched, her skin tingling where she had imagined his fingers to be.
"I miss you so much," she whispered, allowing the tears to fall. She suppressed them most of the time by staying busy and immersed in her career. But now—in this place that had once been their hideaway—emotions bubbled to the surface despite the pills designed to keep them buried. "Without you I'm just a stressed out work-a-holic. No one's ever going to love me like you did."
"You're wrong, Sierra."
She took another swig from the bottle, in a way resenting that she still heard his voice in her head. People nagged at her to snap out of it, let him go, move on; but how was that possible when she saw him in her dreams and heard him in her head?  The therapist told her that it was okay to talk to the deceased, that she could still have conversations if that made her feel better. Of course, she'd neglected to tell the doctor that often she heard a response.
Just my imagination.
"I'm here." Shane's voice.
"If only..."
A surge of energy rushed through her like an electrical shock. She closed her eyes and sighed.
A caress against her lips. She opened her eyes and saw Shane leaning over her. Despite being a lawyer who could wear a suit like an Armani model, he'd had the surfer dude look down to a tee. She grinned at the lock of blond hair falling across his tanned forehead.
"Always too handsome for your own good," she whispered to the image. "I miss you so much."
"I've never left you," he said.
She covered her eyes with her hand and shook her head. "You did, they took you from me, too young, never should have happened..."
"I'm here, Sierra. See me." He touched her hand. She felt it. Heavy. Warm.
Impossible. Too much work and too little sleep had pushed her over the edge, add pills and wine to the mix and everything felt unreal.
"I'm losing everything, you know. I can't function. The show has dropped in ratings despite some damn DEA expert slash pain in my ass who was supposed to save us from going in the ditch. I can't write anymore. Period. I can't do anything anymore, not like I used to, not without you. Now I'm going crazy."
"You're not here."
"I'm here, I've never left you. Look at me. It's taking all I've got to do this."
One finger at a time, she lifted her hand from her eyes. She swallowed disbelief despite the warm energy rippling through her body.
Shane leaned over her, contagious grin in place, body heavy on top of hers. She reached up, simultaneously scared and fascinated. When her fingers touched his hair, she froze.
"I don't believe in ghosts," she whispered.
"I've noticed. Do you know how hard I've been trying to connect with you?"
Frozen with fear yet driven by curiosity, she forced a whisper from her lips, "Why here? Why now?"
"You're so sad, I don't want you to be sad anymore."
Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes despite his words. "How can I not be sad? You were my world."
"That's not true." He kissed her, the touch like a breeze over her lips. "You had it goin' on when I met you, don't you remember? You ignored me because I looked like an uptight lawyer in my suit. You were at that restaurant with all of your artist friends and I couldn't stop staring. You avoided going out with me for a full month, always too busy working. Don't you remember? You never needed me. You wanted me. There's a difference."
She shook her head, unwilling to remember. Hanging onto sorrow had protected her from living without him. She didn't want to remember life pre-Shane...and she didn't want to think about life post-Shane. Limbo felt like a safer place to hide from reality.
Now she had conjured him up from memory; that had to be the only explanation. She'd taken talking to the void a step further.
"You're not real." She touched her fingers to his face even as she said the words.
"Want me to prove it to you?"
She shook her head 'no,' even as her thumb moved along his chin. The energy rippling beneath her fingertips zapped like electrical shocks, rather than a solid form. Maybe she had lost her mind, which was the only explanation she could believe.
"I see you everywhere," she whispered. 
"I am everywhere." His smile made her heart ache with longing.
She slid her fingers over his lips with fascination and relaxed against the sofa cushions. Eyes narrowed, she stared at the image above her. She wanted to believe, but her imagination had gotten her into trouble in the past.
"You're not here," she said. "I just want you to be so badly I'm seeing things."
"You ask a lot."
She closed her eyes and shuddered with the need pulsating through her body. Her hand moved beneath her sweater, fingers tracing over her abdomen before sliding over her bra. Where her hands drifted, ripples of energy followed, creating a trail of sensation over her skin. Desire warmed her blood.
"I miss being loved," she whispered.
"I love you." Shane's voice against her ear. "Let me touch you."
"I wish you could." She ached for him, for the love they had shared, for the laughter, and the partnership.
With a sigh, she set the wine bottle onto the floor and pulled her sweater off. Another shudder went through her body, ripple after ripple of intensity. Closing her eyes to submit to fantasy, she moved her hands over the swell of her breasts.
She felt his lips against her neck, breath against her skin. Shane's blond head bent over her, the familiar scent of his shampoo overwhelming her senses, his voice whispering about how much he loved her.
She missed making love, holding a man against her, tasting him on her tongue, feeling him move between her thighs.
"Believe in this, Sierra. I'm really here," the whispered command made her squirm against the seat and reach for the zipper of her jeans.
But the zipper slid down without her fingers touching it. Her eyes snapped open.
"Is this really happening?" She choked out the words from a throat swollen with fear while her heartbeat raced with hope. 
"Do you want it to be?" He loomed over her, a solid form, yes, but one zapping with an electrical current. "You see me."
"I see you."
He kissed her; energy sizzled between their mouths as he shoved her jeans down her legs. Where he touched, her skin reacted with an intensity born from loneliness and need. She ached for him.
He slipped the bra from her shoulders, kissed the swell of her breasts, and pinched her nipples. His breath moved across her skin.
She didn't care if this was a dream or if she'd finally slipped into insanity. She twisted beneath him, sensation overwhelming logic. Her hands moved along his back while she shut her eyes, worried that if she opened them the fantasy would end.
Where his body touched, pulsations surged over and into her skin like a million needle pinpricks. She wanted more, needed all of him filling her.
She kicked the jeans free and spread her legs wide. Her hands moved between her thighs, fingers sliding into her wet folds. Not enough, she reached for the wine bottle and slid its neck inside herself. She craved being filled up by a man again, but she'd use whatever necessary to come close to the satisfaction that always eluded her. She slid the neck of the bottle in and out, uncaring about the wine sloshing under her ass and over the leather cushions. She needed release.
Partially terrified yet immensely turned on, she watched Shane's ghostly fingers create indentations in her flesh where he touched. If this was some stress-induced-wine-assisted dream, she hoped she never woke up.
Shane pulled the wine bottle away and sent it crashing to the floor. Bending his head, he sucked between her legs, lapping up the spilled wine on her skin. Tasting. Licking. His hands cupped her ass, pushing her tighter against his face.
Pleasure flooded every molecule of her body. She moved her hands to her breasts while he sucked on her clit. Shockwaves crackled through her nervous system.
"How can this be happening?" she asked.
"You ask too many questions, sometimes you just need to trust that there aren't any answers." He flicked his tongue over her nipple as he propped himself over her and pressed his hips against hers.
"I want you inside me."

He complied, his mass thrusting inside her...more than that...through her.
A burst of energy so intense she feared losing consciousness shattered through her body and burst out of the top of her head. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move. Wave after wave of sensations tore through her. When they subsided, she opened her eyes and gasped for air.
 Shane hadn't disappeared. He leaned heavily against her and smiled.
"You're a ghost. I don't believe in ghosts." She reached for his face, amazed she could feel him. "I thought you were a dream."
"I come to you in your don't believe." He covered a breast with his hand and squeezed. "I need you to believe, Sierra."
"I do." She wrapped her arms around him and held on tight. "I can't believe I can feel you. How is this happening?"
"I love you so much. I couldn't leave you." His breath moved against the side of her face.
Her heart swelled with the idea that he'd been there through the all night crying jags, the tantrums at the office, the lonely walks on the beach, and the tangents in her journal where she'd talked about disappearing.
"I'm losing it all, Shane. I want to give up. Every day has been a struggle since you died. I just...can't."
"Yes, you can. You're my superstar."
"You were always my biggest fan, my only fan." She smiled with sadness and squeezed her eyes closed to prevent the tears from falling.
"You're not alone."
But when she opened her eyes, she was. She glanced down at her naked body stretched along the sofa before looking at the empty bottle on the floor next to her.
With a sigh, she rubbed trembling hands over her face. Over the last eighteen months, she'd gone through all the grief stages, but no one had told her that the hallucinations would feel so real. Maybe no one talked about it. Perhaps everyone kept that part secret for fear of spending the rest of their lives in a straight jacket.
She sat up, body still tingling from whatever had just happened, and looked at the mess she'd created.
"Symbolic of my life," she muttered before pulling on her sweater and reaching for her jeans. She needed a major clean up...and she wasn't referring only to the spilled wine on the leather sofa.
* * *
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Only the good die young. When Shane Weston is murdered before prosecuting a key member of the Mexican drug cartel, he can't accept the idea that all of the plans he had had for his life will never come true. More than that, he can't let go of the love he has for his fiancée.

Love never dies. Sierra Daniels is crushed after Shane's death. Head writer on a successful television series, she can't get back into the groove of life. All enthusiasm for work is gone. Ready to quit everything, she travels to her cabin in Lake Tahoe in hopes of escaping everyone's expectations and disappearing for a while.

The lines between right and wrong often blur. Alexander Blaine has risked his future on a career change from DEA agent to lead consultant and writer on hit television series. Sierra's grief has shadowed everyone around her, including him, and jeopardizes both of their careers. Unwilling to accept defeat, he follows her to Lake Tahoe determined to break through the barrier enveloping her and make her see that life is still worth living.

Letting go is like a death. Sierra never thought she would be caught in a love triangle between her writing partner, Alex, and the love of her life, Shane—especially because her ex-fiancé is now a ghost. Tormented with both guilt for moving on with someone else and a desire to be free of the past, she's into the gray area of right, wrong, life, death, ghosts, dreams—the part of life where all the lines are blurred.
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