Time for a little peek inside Dante’s Angel.
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Excerpt:
Dante had thought she would object to his touch, but though she remarked about having his arm through hers, she did nothing to change it. For a long time now, they had strolled easily through the old olive grove arm in arm, in peaceful silence, enjoying each other’s company.
At least, he was enjoying hers, and if she wasn’t happy, she would have said something, surely. Where her arm touched his, he felt a warmth and a tingle which threatened to overwhelm him. Between that and her scent, he could have died and gone to heaven. But with the thoughts he had going through his head, he was probably headed a different direction. He would need to go to confession again before the wedding for sure.
They had turned and were heading back toward the manor when she sighed and let her head lean onto his shoulder. As he tried to figure out this latest twist in their acquaintance, she took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it go.
The evening breeze had picked up after they made their turn and it was beginning to be chilly outside. Moist, warm earth met chilled evening air and gave up part of its warmth as mist rising from the ground. Among the silvery trees, this only increased the sense of magic in the air. As he was now downwind, it also brought her scent to him more strongly, like he needed anything else to deal with.
Pressed tightly against him, he wondered if she felt chilled by the night air. She wore a long skirt, but the blouse was thin summer cotton, with short, off-the-shoulder sleeves. Thinking about those shoulders made him want to leave love bites across them and then further up the luscious column of her neck. Her shiver brought him back to the present.
He still had on his jacket from dinner, so he gently opened the front of it and drew it around her shoulders—bare as they were—so that his arm was around her. Thinking she would object, he was surprised when she snuggled in and put her arm around his waist.
God, help me, he prayed. I’m only human.
Before they left the grove, he stopped and looked down into eyes which held questions.
“In case you decide you’d rather not be seen with me, we can separate here,” he said.
“I suppose we would draw attention, wouldn’t we?” she answered, but with a sparkle of mischief in her eyes.
“But before we go our own ways,” he began before pulling her closer and forking his fingers up through her hair, “I would like to settle the question.”
“What question?” she asked.
Leaning closer, his hand in her hair suggested she turn her face up toward his. With his lips nearly touching hers, he waited for her permission, which she gave him by pressing up on her toes to close the distance.
Yes, her lips were as delicious as he’d hoped, like ripe cherries and sweet wine. His kiss lingered, wishing it would never end. Her taste combined with her scent made his head whirl. And he was not prepared for her lips to part and for the tip of her tongue to invite him in.
Finally parting, they gazed at each other in astonishment. “Dio! What are we going to do?” Angela asked, searching his face.
“I don’t know, but I have to have you.”
“Yes. And I need you. I’ve never felt this way before.”
Their next kiss was passionate, with her back against one of the ancient trees, her arms around him, and all those curves yielding to his body.
“Angela, I must go and compose myself before I meet any of the others.”
“I may need a walk to recuperate from our walk.”
“I won’t join you. Things could go much further than either of us needs right now.”
“Probably so. Buona notte, il mio amore,” she said quietly.
“Sogni d’oro, mio angelo,” he answered. Sweet dreams indeed. His were going to be something, but he doubted sweet would come into it anywhere along the line. And she had called him “my love.”
I’m excited about 
Set in an alternate timeline of the American Northwest, Master of the Fleet combines paranormal abilities with romance.
