8 Brand-New Romance Authors - Avril Tremayne Mills & Boon e-Book Collections

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eyes. She couldn’t help the smile that formed on her face, nor could she deny that she had indeed tried to jump his bones that night.

      But come on, she’d thought she had been within the safety and anonymity of a dream!

      He kissed the top of her head as he reined in his laughter and continued. “You threw me for a loop that night, and I was terrified. I was scared of the emotions I was feeling. I have never felt anything like that before.”

      She felt giddy, like a little schoolgirl with her first crush, only better. “You haven’t?”

      “No. This is all new to me. Maybe that’s why it took me so long to figure it out.”

      “Show me how you feel again.” She grabbed the back of his neck and brought his face down to meet her own.

      He didn’t hesitate for a moment, showing her exactly how he felt about her with a kiss that, if she’d been wearing socks, would have knocked them clean off. He kissed her as though he couldn’t get enough of her, and she felt the same thing. She never wanted this to end.

      They stood there in the hallway, completely unaware of their surroundings. She placed her hand on the side of his face, needing the confirmation that he was real and not another dream playing tricks on her.

      “I love you, Micah, and I don’t ever want to let you go. You’re the first woman I’ve ever said that to, you know. I want you to be the first woman I bring home to meet my family, too.”

      She actually felt herself blushing. She hadn’t seen them in years, but she still knew his family well. “I’ve already met your family, you goof.”

      “I know, but still. I want them to see you as the woman I love, not just the girl I was friends with. Still sounds strange to my own ears, but I don’t think I could grow tired of telling you. I love you, Micah.”

      “I love you, too, Josh.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him again.

      Who would have guessed this would ever come about? She’d never thought the day would come that she would be in the middle of the hallway in her apartment building, kissing Josh Taylor with abandon. My, my, how life had a way of taking you by surprise. And all it took was letting go of the past and allowing herself to embrace the here and now.

      She really had missed out on a lot during that time, but she was not going to let it get her down. No, she was only going to focus on making the most of today. And at the moment, that involved relishing the divine rush caused by the touch of Josh’s hands. His skillful lips felt like heaven and his arms held her tight, as if they never wanted to let her go.

      His hands came up to frame her face. And as he kissed her softly this time, she felt his fingertips graze her neck and slip beneath the collar of her jacket. He pushed it off her shoulders as he broke away from her lips and kissed a path down the sensitive part of her neck. He turned her in his arms so that she was facing away from him but still nestled within his grasp. His lips continued their divine assault down the delicate slope of her shoulders. She let her head fall back against him as he pushed the strap of her dress aside.

      “I just have one more question.”

      “Hmm...”

      He placed a kiss over the tiny heart tattoo that graced her left shoulder.

      “Is this...?”

      “Yes.” She knew what he wanted to know before he even voiced it. “I went to get it done and as I sat there and waited for my turn, I realized what I really wanted was your heart. And this is how you always sign your text messages to me.”

      She turned in his arms, needing to see the face she loved so dearly. “When did you see it?”

      “I noticed it during the snowstorm.” He kissed her again, then spoke the words against the side of her mouth. “I wanted it to be me.”

      * * * * *

      Read on for an extract from ONLY THE BRAVE TRY BALLET by Stefanie London

      ONE

      What do a ballerina and a football player have in common? It was the question Jasmine Bell pondered as she watched the footballer in front of her struggling to master a plié. Discounting a need for flexible hamstrings...they have nothing in common. Absolutely nothing. Yet here they were.

      She stood in the middle of the studio, wearing her usual uniform of a black leotard, tights and ballet shoes. These items were like a second skin to a dancer, but tonight she couldn’t have felt more exposed than if she were standing there butt-naked. She folded her arms tight across her chest.

      ‘Let’s take it from the top. Keep those shoulders down,’ she said, forcing a calming breath. She loosened her shoulders, rounded her arms into first position and turned her feet out to match. ‘Prepare...left hand on the barre and plié—one, two, three, four...’

      The man in front of her smirked as he followed her instructions with a lazy swagger. Everything about Grant Farley got under her skin, from the cocky grin on his face to the way his thick blond brows rose at her when she spoke. He was a man designed to destroy a woman’s concentration.

      Keeping her distance, she watched his movements and provided assistance verbally. Usually she helped her students by guiding them with her hands, but there was something about him that made her mind scream Look but don’t touch. Maybe it was because he moved with a self-assurance that she envied, or maybe it was because after her six months of celibacy he looked good enough to eat.

      Much to her chagrin he was a quick learner, and rapidly gained ground despite his insistence on goofing around.

      ‘You’re doing well,’ Jasmine said as they paused between repetitions. She was determined to be the consummate professional, even if it was harder to pull off than the pas de deux from Don Quixote, Act Three. ‘I can see improvements already and it’s only your first lesson.’

      ‘It’s not exactly difficult,’ he responded, his blue eyes meeting hers and sending a chill down her spine. His tone dismissed her praise. ‘I’m bending up and down on the spot. A two-year-old could master that.’

      Jasmine bristled. Only a beef-head Aussie Rules footballer would fail to see the importance of the step she’d taught him.

      She pursed her lips. ‘That’s an over-simplification, don’t you think?’

      ‘Not really.’ He crossed his arms and leant back against the barre, appraising her. ‘You can give it a fancy French name if you want, but it’s just bending your knees.’

      ‘Well, I never thought a career could be made out of chasing a little red ball.’ She tilted her chin up at him. ‘But there you go.’

      ‘Our balls aren’t little,’ he drawled, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

      Her cheeks flamed. She ignored the innuendo and started the music, preparing herself to repeat the exercise facing him.

      ‘Once more from the top.’

      As the music started he followed her lead, bending with his feet in first position. The teacher in her couldn’t ignore the fault of his technique, as he bent his hips moved out of alignment and his feet rolled inwards. She instinctively reached out to correct the error but retracted her hand when her brain kicked into gear.

      ‘I don’t bite.’

      His wolfish grin seemed at odds with the promise of safety, but Jasmine wasn’t going to let some arrogant joker mess with her head. She was the teacher; she was the one in charge here.

      ‘You need to keep your hips steady.’ She stepped forwards and placed a hand on each hip. His muscles were tight and flame-hot beneath her palms. He bent down into plié once more and she guided him, ignoring the frisson of electricity that shot through her.

      ‘Make sure your core is pulled in. It will increase balance and stop you rocking forwards.’

      ‘Like

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