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Making Love. The Words Whispered Through Gabe Griffin’s Brain. Letter to Reader Title Page About the Author Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Epilogue Copyright
Making Love. The Words Whispered Through Gabe Griffin’s Brain.
He could honestly say he’d never done that with a woman. Sex, yes. But love? He wasn’t capable of loving someone, so the matter was insignificant. He cast another look at Calli Thornton, and she reached across to brush crumbs from his shirt. Her every gesture was giving and caring.
And he was lying to her.
A heaviness swelled in his chest, and Gabe had to look away. One thought kept coming back to him, making him ache for Calli in a way he’d never thought possible.
Will she forgive me when she learns the truth?
For the first time in years, Gabe allowed himself to hope for the impossible.
Dear Reader,
Where do you read Silhouette Desire? Sitting in your favorite chair? How about standing in line at the market or swinging in the sunporch hammock? Or do you hold out the entire day, waiting for all your distractions to dissolve around you, only to open a Desire novel once you’re in a relaxing bath or resting against your softest pillow...? Wherever you indulge in Silhouette Desire, we know you do so with anticipation, and that’s why we bring you the absolute best in romance fiction.
This month, look forward to talented Jennifer Greene’s A Baby in His In-Box, where a sexy tutor gives March’s MAN OF THE MONTH private lessons on sudden fatherhood. And in the second adorable tale of Elizabeth Bevarly’s BLAME IT ON BOB series, Beauty and the Brain, a lady discovers she’s still starry-eyed over her secret high school crush Next, Susan Crosby takes readers on The Great Wife Search in Bride Candidate #9.
And don’t miss a single kiss delivered by these delectable men: a roguish rancher in Amy J. Fetzer’s The Unlikely Bodyguard, the strong, silent corporate hunk in the latest book in the RIGHT BRIDE, WRONG GROOM series, Switched at the Altar, by Metsy Hingle; and Eileen Wilks’s mouthwatering honorable Texas hero in Just a Little Bit Pregnant.
So, no matter where you read, I know what you’ll be reading—all six of March’s irresistible Silhouette Desire love stories!
Regards,
Melissa Senate
Senior Editor
Silhouette Desire
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service U S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269 Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Ene, Ont L2A 5X3
The Unlikely Bodyguard
Amy J. Fetzer
AMY J. FETZER
was born in New England and raised all over the world. Married nineteen years to a United States Marine and the mother of two sons, Amy covets the moments when she can curl up with a cup of cappuccino and a good book.
To
Chef Sara E. Baker, for all those delicious details about dangerous men and Darrell L. Mitchell who has hero material written all over him, even if he doesn’t believe it.
One
Gallina Carryon, New Mexico
Every head in the joint turned when she stepped inside.
She hesitated, surveying the dim roadhouse, the neon glare of bar lights illuminating her from behind, leaving her face cast in shadows. Women spared her a glance. Men strained for a better look. Angel set his glass aside and stared. She walked slowly to the bar, the click of her heels marking the sultry shift of hips wrapped in a tight, black leather skirt. She had muscular legs up the kazoo and when she propped her elbows on the bar, her short leather jacket creaked.
From the description he bad. he’d expected her to look like a schoolgirl. Not a centerfold. Black leather, tight and shaping her figure, told Angel and every man around exactly what was beneath. But even that body didn’t compare to her face. A classic, pure beauty, he thought, like Snow White.
Hell. He’d had stranger fantasies.
She ordered a shot of tequila in a voice like rustling silk.
A mirror, dirty and cloudy from nicotine, ran the length of the wall and in it he watched her slide folded bills across the beer-splattered wood to the bartender. She picked up the shot and tossed it back. The glass came away from her mouth slowly, her tongue sliding across her lips. Abruptly, she turned the empty jigger rim down on the bar and ordered another. While the bartender poured, she took a step back, her hands braced as she stretched a bit. Several men lining the wood rail leaned back to inspect the shapely curve of her bottom and the black stockings seaming her incredible legs.
She didn’t belong here. She stood out against the dingy bar like a baby in a wrestling ring. What did she hope to accomplish in The Rusty Nail?
Ike Granson, a petty thief and dealer, moved close to her, his voice too low to carry as he slid onto the stool beside hers. She tucked jaw-length black hair behind one ear, cocked her head to look at him and smiled God, what a smile, Angel thought, and let his gaze discreetly follow her as she joined the man on the dance floor. The haze of smoke hovered around them like a filthy curtain. Ike bent, his oily hair spilling over his face as he whispered in her ear, his hand groping her spine like a lazy masseur. She stiffened and stopped, then she reared back and made a fist. Great.