zoloft pills

“Fun, quick and steamy.”

Available at Amazon

After eight years of self-imposed exile, shy bombshell Cara O’Shea returns to her hometown to create her art in peace. Big city living has left her craving the quiet only a small town can offer. Bitter over the wreckage of her father’s infidelity, she risks town gossip, and her heart, when she enlists the town’s football hero to help renovate her studio and mend a decade-old rift.

A career-ending injury and a failed marriage leave Michael “Finn” Finnegan questioning his worth and avoiding anything smacking of permanence. A playboy lifestyle soothes his battered ego, but lately the pretense has lost its appeal. However, one look at Cara, with her expressive green eyes and bunny-of-the-month body, and he’s hell-bent on proving his worth with the shy artist–and himself.

As old truths are revealed, will Cara and Finn overcome the mistakes of the past, trust their hearts at last, and take a chance on love?

“You smell great.”

She gritted her teeth. “Back off, Finnegan.”

Her attempt to put some distance between them, by pushing at his shoulder, gained no results. He held her tight.

“Lighten up, O’Shea. It was a compliment. I like your hair down.” He tilted his head to peer into her eyes as he rumbled his absurd comment. “The way you wore it last night.”

Mere inches separated her face from his and her lips tightened in annoyance. Did he actually expect her to respond to that? Stick to the plan, Cara. Ignore him. She stared blankly over his shoulder.

“All those wild curls beg a man to sink his fingers in to see if they’re as soft as they appear.”

Her mouth twitched with the need to respond. Okay, maybe someone who’d spent his life being slammed to the ground by three-hundred pound behemoths wasn’t capable of reading the subtleties of body language. He probably had his brain scrambled so often he needed verbal cues to understand not all women appreciated his brand of juvenile machismo.

“You know, Finnegan,” she spoke nonchalantly, staring straight ahead as though he didn’t bother her at all. “There are medications that can help lessen the mental complications of brain damage from repeated concussions. Someone in the front office of the NFL should be able to give you the name of a doctor who can prescribe them.”

He chuckled, and she made the mistake of shifting her eyes back to his. They twinkled with mirth above a bright, white smile. The riotous fluttering in her belly brought a slight rush of nausea. Dismayed to discover those damn butterflies weren’t dead after all, she looked away. Was brain damage contagious?