Title:
Series: Seeking Serenity series, Book #1.5
Author:
Publication Date:
Expat Irish rugby player Declan Fraser only wanted to play the sport he loves. He didn’t want to be stuck in this middle-of-nowhere town at this all too quaint university. He didn’t want his team captain to be an entitled jackass who switched Declan's position on the squad just to make himself look good. And he sure as hell didn’t want to fall in love with graduate student Autumn McShane.
Autumn is stubborn, but gorgeous; she bristles at any hint of dependency on anyone or anything, but she’s also a survivor. She’s everything Declan didn’t know he wanted. When Autumn finds herself in the middle of a challenging bet with her ex-boyfriend - who just happens to be the arrogant team captain that Declan hates he feels honor bound to help her out. But he didn’t expect to fall for her in the process.
“Behind the Pitch” reveals the most twisted and erotic thoughts in Declan’s head as he navigates through his on again/off again, frustrating and deeply erotic relationship with Autumn McShane.
And lordy, does he have a filthy mind.
Eden Butler is an Amazon best-selling editor and writer of New Adult Romance and SciFi and Fantasy novels and the nine-times great-granddaughter of an honest-to-God English pirate. This could explain her affinity for rule breaking and rum. Her debut novel, a New Adult, Contemporary (no cliffie) Romance, "Chasing Serenity" launched October 2013.
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“I’m not going to ask you to do anything you don’t want, love.” I didn’t know why
my voice thickened, became a whisper I knew sounded like wanting, desperation.
“But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop touching you. Not if you don’t stop me.”
There were very few freckles on her neck. Four, perhaps five, that dotted near the
cleft of her throat. But as my fingers worked open the buttons on her blouse, the
collection of spots grew, until I saw the most beautiful sweep of freckles across her
collarbone, down into the full, buggering hell, blessedly full cleavage. I had to
physically restrain myself from attacking her tits, or ripping apart the lacy bra she
wore.
Then, I couldn’t control myself. I had to taste her; her smooth skin, the brilliant
cushion of her chest, I had to kiss every freckle I saw. One, two, ten, twenty; my
mouth ran over each one, loving the delicious taste of her flesh, the sweet,
intoxicating flavor of her body.
When I thought I could not possibly kiss another space of beautiful skin without
exploding, I moved back to helping her discard her shirt, then lowered the straps of
that lacy bra, and was met with even more freckles. “I knew you had freckles
everywhere,” I said, enjoying the sweet sound of her laughter.
We looked at each other, confirmation, approval, as I worked the clasp at the front
of her bra and my heart stopped beating for a second. This was it, what I’d been
desperate for, what I’d fecking dreamed about for ages. And then, she was free, the
most beautiful tits I’d ever seen spilling out, displayed for my examination.
I. Was. Dead.
My fingers smoothed over her perfect, pink nipples, already hard, standing at
attention for me. I knew I sounded like a wanker, the way I groaned, the way my
voice vibrated in my throat. But I couldn’t help myself. Not one bit. Those tits were a
temple and I was a lowly worshiper. I closed my eyes at the feel of them, at the
hardened points sliding against my palms and felt myself grow so hard I thought I
would explode just from touching her.
Her skin was like satin, without the slightest flaw and I opened my eyes to watch her
face as I touched her, loved the way her eyes rolled up, loved how her soft mewing
sounds mimicked my own.
I took my communion at her altar, her chest rising to meet me, her nipples melting
against my tongue. I craved this skin, the sweet sounds she made as I lapped her
pink nipple between my lips, my teeth, sucking harder as the sound of her moans
amplified.
my voice thickened, became a whisper I knew sounded like wanting, desperation.
“But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop touching you. Not if you don’t stop me.”
There were very few freckles on her neck. Four, perhaps five, that dotted near the
cleft of her throat. But as my fingers worked open the buttons on her blouse, the
collection of spots grew, until I saw the most beautiful sweep of freckles across her
collarbone, down into the full, buggering hell, blessedly full cleavage. I had to
physically restrain myself from attacking her tits, or ripping apart the lacy bra she
wore.
Then, I couldn’t control myself. I had to taste her; her smooth skin, the brilliant
cushion of her chest, I had to kiss every freckle I saw. One, two, ten, twenty; my
mouth ran over each one, loving the delicious taste of her flesh, the sweet,
intoxicating flavor of her body.
When I thought I could not possibly kiss another space of beautiful skin without
exploding, I moved back to helping her discard her shirt, then lowered the straps of
that lacy bra, and was met with even more freckles. “I knew you had freckles
everywhere,” I said, enjoying the sweet sound of her laughter.
We looked at each other, confirmation, approval, as I worked the clasp at the front
of her bra and my heart stopped beating for a second. This was it, what I’d been
desperate for, what I’d fecking dreamed about for ages. And then, she was free, the
most beautiful tits I’d ever seen spilling out, displayed for my examination.
I. Was. Dead.
My fingers smoothed over her perfect, pink nipples, already hard, standing at
attention for me. I knew I sounded like a wanker, the way I groaned, the way my
voice vibrated in my throat. But I couldn’t help myself. Not one bit. Those tits were a
temple and I was a lowly worshiper. I closed my eyes at the feel of them, at the
hardened points sliding against my palms and felt myself grow so hard I thought I
would explode just from touching her.
Her skin was like satin, without the slightest flaw and I opened my eyes to watch her
face as I touched her, loved the way her eyes rolled up, loved how her soft mewing
sounds mimicked my own.
I took my communion at her altar, her chest rising to meet me, her nipples melting
against my tongue. I craved this skin, the sweet sounds she made as I lapped her
pink nipple between my lips, my teeth, sucking harder as the sound of her moans
amplified.
Eden Butler is an Amazon best-selling editor and writer of New Adult Romance and SciFi and Fantasy novels and the nine-times great-granddaughter of an honest-to-God English pirate. This could explain her affinity for rule breaking and rum. Her debut novel, a New Adult, Contemporary (no cliffie) Romance, "Chasing Serenity" launched October 2013.
When she's not writing or wondering about her possibly Jack Sparrowesque ancestor, Eden edits, reads and spends way too much time watching rugby, Doctor Who and New Orleans Saints football.
Contact Author Here
Eden is offering up (3) eBook set copies of Chasing Serenity & Behind the Pitch or
(1) signed copy of Chasing Serenity up for grabs. Giveaway is international and
ends at 11:59 PM CST 02/17/2014.
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