Would you like to enjoy a good book and help support Hurricane Katrina relief efforts at the same time?
Charlene Teglia has made her steamy romantic comedy, Catalyst available in four downloadable ebook formats for only $2!. All proceeds are going to help the victims of Hurricane Katrina. (PayPal only)
Where do you go to get it? Read for Relief!
Book Summary: If Veronica Jonesâ€™ prince is coming, heâ€™s lost her address. Resigned to the single life, she buys a house and settles down with her man-hating cat. But single doesnâ€™t have to mean celibate, especially with her sexy new neighbor on the scene. Determined to get a life that includes an affair to remember, she had no idea what she was getting intoâ€¦
Copyright Charlene Teglia 2005 All Rights Reserved
“You’re wearing that perfume again.” The hoarse accusation breathed against the column of her throat was nearly a groan.
“Mmm-hmm,” she agreed. “Those medieval alchemists knew their chemistry.”
“Chemistry.” He nibbled at her earlobe. “That explains it.”
“Yep.” Veronica sighed blissfully as he continued to nuzzle her neck. “Love potions are for amateurs. This is the real thing, a chemical catalyst.”
“Catalyst. A substance that increases the rate of a chemical reaction, or an agent of change.” She recited the definition in a breathless voice.
A muffled laugh was buried in her hair. “I don’t think we need it.”
“Well, I don’t know.” Veronica pretended to ponder the point. “From time to time we do seem to come close to reaching a certain critical heat. But in the spirit of academic inquiry, I thought a little added fuel to the fire might produce interesting results.”
“Yes.” Then, “Yesâ€¦”
Somewhere along the way, Veronica realized she’d lost the upper hand on that round. If she’d ever really had it. While she was busy teasing him, he’d teased her body until it completely shut down what was passing for her brain these days.
When they came up for air again, she was forced to agree that they didn’t need any assistance.
Nature was doing just fine unaided.
In fact, they might be glad to have that kitchen fire extinguisher.
She cuddled happily against Scott, loving the way he rocked from side to side with her, giving comfort and reassurance while giving them both time to float back to earth together.
Finally, he loosened his hold on her and set her away with reluctant hands.
“Come on, woman. If we keep this up, you won’t get any dinner, and weâ€™ll both get cranky if we miss a meal.”
“Dinner?” Veronica blinked at him in feigned forgetfulness.
“Dinner.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “A catalyst is only as good as the two starting elements. And I think your element is in need of some slower burning fuel.”
“Oh. Dinner it is, then. Speaking of which, what is it?”
Now that he’d mentioned, she was hungry.
Scott gave her his best snooty waiter expression. “Tonight, madam, we have the finest garden fresh vegetables with savory beef cube kabobs marinated in a tangy orange sauce, accompanied by green salad and the house red wine.”
Veronica digested that description. “So, we’re barbecuing?”
“We’re barbecuing,” he agreed.
They strolled to the patio, arms wrapped around each other as if to make up for the separation of a night and a day.
She smugly concluded that she wasn’t alone in feeling strangely bereft when they were apart.
In fact, she seemed to feel as if they belonged together always. And it was Scott’s doing, she felt sure. He’d somehow built on the initial attraction between them to form an invisible bond of increasing strength. In very real ways, she felt tied to him, and more so every day.
She wasn’t sure she liked it.
Her own body no longer felt like it belonged to her. Instead, it followed his lead and answered to his every passionate demand, responded to his every caress.
Now that she considered it, Veronica realized that grand passions were historically and traditionally rather uncomfortable affairs with unfortunate side effects. If she’d expected storybook perfection, she’d obviously forgotten such stories as Samson and Delilah, Tristan and Isolde, Anthony and Cleopatra.
The horrible thought occurred that Gordon just might have had a valid point or two. It was one thing to read about desert islands from the safety of a comfortable chair. It was something altogether different to get sunburned and sandy, however.
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