In Book 3, Angela is confused and frustrated by Antonio's distance. It's obvious he wants her - just as much as she wants him. When he backs off yet again, she discovers the truth about her feelings - a truth that will shape her destiny from this point forward. But for Antonio, business is business. And this trip is no exception. Meetings and gambling, politicians and thugs take up too much of his free time. While it's obvious he has feelings for Angela, something is holding him back. How long can he struggle against his own feelings? And what will it take for Angela to discover the way into his heart? This steamy novella is book 3 in the ongoing serial that concludes with book 5. It contains adult material suited for 18+ year olds.
EXCERPT- The Hunt for Snow by S.E. Babin
I was making noise like a drunken elephant. I cringed as my boots squeaked through the mud and other unmentionables, but I didn’t slow my pace any. Thunderous footsteps echoed behind me as Max taunted me.
“Snow White, I’m going to geeet yooouuuu. Come here, you sexy little thing.”
I let out a crack of laughter and shot him the finger. But I kept running. Once I reached the entrance, I shimmied up the rocks, but a vise-like grip grabbed my ankle and pulled me down. We crashed into the sewer, me on top of Max and both of us cursing up a “Max! Gross!” I struggled to get out his grip without having to stab him. I was going to have to take a decon bath and get a tetanus shot after all this was done.
He laughed maniacally, but didn’t let his grip up. “Keep the wiggling up, lass, and I’ll take you in this sewer.”
“Ugh.” As much as I wanted him, I didn’t think sewer monkey love would ever be worth I stopped wriggling, and stared at him, those beautiful green eyes looking back at me deep with emotions. I gave him a brilliant smile, straightened my neck, and head-butted him in the nose with my forehead as hard as I could.
His shout of pain made me feel a tad guilty for being such a dirty fighter, literally, but I’d given him what he wanted in order to keep him safe—a giant black eye that he could take back to Naomi. His grip relinquished as he continued to groan, and I scrambled off him and out of the dungeon. As I stood above the entrance looking down,
Max had one hand over his bloody nose, his eyes swelling and tearing up with both amusement and pain. He shook his head at me as a blood-filled smile quirked his lips.
“Crazy bitch,” he murmured.
I gave him a wave and left him lying there. His pained laughter followed me out.
Like most romance writers, Ami LeCoeur is a romantic at heart, but in her heart it's the classic Romanticism of the late 18th and early 19th centuries. She is also a painter, glass artist, and award winning poet, as well as a writer. When she isn't traveling, she lives on California's Redwood Coast with her husband and two kitties. She loves her wonderful ocean view, and when the fog comes in - as it always does - she's either curled up with a good book, or busy writing.