Her
Perfect Lips by Lisa Fox
Determined, capable, and primed to rock her first big marketing
conference, Stacy Saunders is not about let to anything get in the way of her
ambition. It's been a long time since she's been in New Orleans, but she has no
use for beads or Bourbon Street. She built a strict itinerary for this trip –
one that certainly didn't include running into the gorgeous Tennyson Landry
again.
A chance reunion between the former lovers brings old feelings to the
surface and the possibility of rekindling old flames. Their second time around
could be the best time of all – if they can bridge the gap even wider than the
thousand miles between them…
An Excerpt
From: HER
PERFECT LIPS
Copyright ©
LISA FOX, 2014
All Rights
Reserved, Harper Impulse, a Division of HarperCollins Publishers
Bourbon
Street was just as she remembered—loud music and neon lights, frat boys in muscle
shirts and girls in crop tops, the stench of beer and pine-scented antiseptic
cleaner, the sidewalks littered with garbage and puke. Their little entourage
stumbled into the first club they found, which had “Play That Funky Music”
blaring from the speakers. Stacy shook her head. Some things truly never
changed. Bars on Bourbon Street would play that song until some ultimate, catastrophic
apocalypse finally managed to wipe the city out for good.
The
barker at the door proudly announced that the club was now offering their world
famous three-for-one happy hour. The vodka tonic Stacy ordered was served in a
plastic cup the size of which was rarely seen outside of a 7-Eleven. It
contained more alcohol than any human should probably ever consume in a single
serving, and she was glad to see that in addition to the bad music, the
drinking culture had not changed either.
She
headed toward the back of the club, outside into the little courtyard area
where the music was somewhat blunted and she was less likely to have a drink
spilled over her. The others followed, people in the group talking amongst
themselves and goggling at the drunken antics on the dance floor. Peter had
fallen back to walk alongside Melanie, and they ambled slowly, their heads
close together, taking softly. Stacy sighed. So much for the whole reason to
participate in this journey. Not that she could blame him. Melanie was
gorgeous. Still, the rejection stung. Not that it would’ve worked anyway. The distance
between them would have eventually become a hassle.
She
sipped her cocktail, watching the dance floor light up red, then blue, then green
as the strobe light pulsed over the dancers. Once again, she had a choice and
none of her options were all too appealing. She could go back to the hotel and
try to find a new group of people to talk with, she could go to bed, or she
could stay right where she was and basically drink alone.
“Let’s
go someplace quieter,” Peter shouted over the music and everybody agreed.
She
followed them back out onto Bourbon Street, seriously considering her next
move. Should I stay or should I go now?
She let the chorus play out in her head and in that one millisecond pause, a drunken
man wearing only jeans shorts and plastic beads lunged at her from the crowd.
She sidestepped around him and almost collided with a woman exiting Pat
O'Briens. The woman squealed and Stacy veered off the sidewalk into the street.
A group of tourists swept her away, forcing her backward along with them. She
fought against the wave of bodies, but it was a losing battle. And then, out of
nowhere, a hand grabbed her arm, a lifeline in the storm.
The
tourists continued on their journey, but Stacy was held in place, firmly
anchored by that strong grip. The hold on her arm was a little too familiar for
a stranger and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to thank or berate her rescuer.
She turned, and her breath caught when she recognized her savior. “Hello, Ten.”
“Hey,
Stacy.”
He
grinned and every single part of her tingled. He was as attractive as she
remembered—tall and strong, with rich, chocolate-brown hair, and a twinkle of
mischief in his startling green eyes. The years had changed him only slightly,
taking away the softness of youth and adding hard ridges and planes to his
handsome face. His hair was a little too long, and he had a two-day beard, but
the scruffiness didn’t take away from his almost poetic good looks. And though
she would never admit it out loud, just the way his thighs filled out his
well-worn blue jeans sent a thread of wicked heat trickling down her spine. Ten
was the stuff of all kinds of naughty fantasies, and a few of her favorite ones
instantly flashed through her mind.
BUY LINKS:
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Amazon: http://goo.gl/tEUlUn
Amazon UK: http://goo.gl/qw69Ma
B&N: http://goo.gl/K9Fd46
Amazon: http://goo.gl/tEUlUn
Amazon UK: http://goo.gl/qw69Ma
B&N: http://goo.gl/K9Fd46
World-renowned
neurosurgeon, jet fighter pilot, secret member of American royalty, seducer of
legions of beautiful, outrageously sexy angels and demons and vampires and
werewolves and the occasional pirate, Lisa Fox has done it all…in her own mind.
In reality, she can generally be found at her desk with a cup of coffee close
at hand. Or maybe a martini. It really depends on the day.
Lisa Fox is a multi-published author of contemporary,
erotic, and paranormal romance novellas. Feedback, comments, opinions, words of
wisdom, chocolate cake and the addresses of super hot men are always
appreciated and encouraged. Please feel free to contact Lisa any time.
Twitter:
@LisaFoxRomance
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