Her Perfect Lips by Lisa Fox
Determined, capable, and primed to rock her first big marketing
conference, Stacy Saunders is not about let to anything get in the way of her
ambition. It's been a long time since she's been in New Orleans, but she has no
use for beads or Bourbon Street. She built a strict itinerary for this trip –
one that certainly didn't include running into the gorgeous Tennyson Landry
again.
A chance reunion between the former lovers brings old feelings to the
surface and the possibility of rekindling old flames. Their second time around
could be the best time of all – if they can bridge the gap even wider than the
thousand miles between them…
An Excerpt
From: HER
PERFECT LIPS
Copyright ©
LISA FOX, 2014
All Rights
Reserved, Harper Impulse, a Division of HarperCollins Publishers
Bourbon Street was just as she remembered—loud music
and neon lights, frat boys in muscle shirts and girls in crop tops, the stench
of beer and pine-scented antiseptic cleaner, the sidewalks littered with
garbage and puke. Their little entourage stumbled into the first club they found,
which had “Play That Funky Music” blaring from the speakers. Stacy shook her
head. Some things truly never changed. Bars on Bourbon Street would play that
song until some ultimate, catastrophic apocalypse finally managed to wipe the
city out for good.
The barker at the door proudly announced that the
club was now offering their world famous three-for-one happy hour. The vodka
tonic Stacy ordered was served in a plastic cup the size of which was rarely
seen outside of a 7-Eleven. It contained more alcohol than any human should
probably ever consume in a single serving, and she was glad to see that in
addition to the bad music, the drinking culture had not changed either.
She headed toward the back of the club, outside into
the little courtyard area where the music was somewhat blunted and she was less
likely to have a drink spilled over her. The others followed, people in the
group talking amongst themselves and goggling at the drunken antics on the
dance floor. Peter had fallen back to walk alongside Melanie, and they ambled
slowly, their heads close together, taking softly. Stacy sighed. So much for
the whole reason to participate in this journey. Not that she could blame him.
Melanie was gorgeous. Still, the rejection stung. Not that it would’ve worked
anyway. The distance between them would have eventually become a hassle.
She sipped her cocktail, watching the dance floor
light up red, then blue, then green as the strobe light pulsed over the
dancers. Once again, she had a choice and none of her options were all too appealing.
She could go back to the hotel and try to find a new group of people to talk
with, she could go to bed, or she could stay right where she was and basically
drink alone.
“Let’s go someplace quieter,” Peter shouted over the
music and everybody agreed.
She followed them back out onto Bourbon Street,
seriously considering her next move. Should
I stay or should I go now? She let the chorus play out in her head and in
that one millisecond pause, a drunken man wearing only jeans shorts and plastic
beads lunged at her from the crowd. She sidestepped around him and almost
collided with a woman exiting Pat O'Briens. The woman squealed and Stacy veered
off the sidewalk into the street. A group of tourists swept her away, forcing
her backward along with them. She fought against the wave of bodies, but it was
a losing battle. And then, out of nowhere, a hand grabbed her arm, a lifeline
in the storm.
The tourists continued on their journey, but Stacy
was held in place, firmly anchored by that strong grip. The hold on her arm was
a little too familiar for a stranger and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to thank
or berate her rescuer. She turned, and her breath caught when she recognized
her savior. “Hello, Ten.”
“Hey, Stacy.”
He grinned and every single part of her tingled. He
was as attractive as she remembered—tall and strong, with rich, chocolate-brown
hair, and a twinkle of mischief in his startling green eyes. The years had
changed him only slightly, taking away the softness of youth and adding hard
ridges and planes to his handsome face. His hair was a little too long, and he
had a two-day beard, but the scruffiness didn’t take away from his almost
poetic good looks. And though she would never admit it out loud, just the way
his thighs filled out his well-worn blue jeans sent a thread of wicked heat trickling
down her spine. Ten was the stuff of all kinds of naughty fantasies, and a few
of her favorite ones instantly flashed through her mind.
BUY
LINKS:
Amazon: http://goo.gl/tEUlUn
Amazon UK: http://goo.gl/qw69Ma
B&N: http://goo.gl/K9Fd46
About
Lisa:
World-renowned
neurosurgeon, jet fighter pilot, secret member of American royalty, seducer of
legions of beautiful, outrageously sexy angels and demons and vampires and
werewolves and the occasional pirate, Lisa Fox has done it all…in her own mind.
In reality, she can generally be found at her desk with a cup of coffee close
at hand. Or maybe a martini. It really depends on the day.
Lisa Fox is a multi-published author of
contemporary, erotic, and paranormal romance novellas. Feedback, comments,
opinions, words of wisdom, chocolate cake and the addresses of super hot men
are always appreciated and encouraged. Please feel free to contact Lisa any
time.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LisaFoxRomance
Twitter: @LisaFoxRomance
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