Spark - Excerpt

“Thank God I didn’t drop the towel. I would have literally died from embarrassment,” I mutter, shaking my head. We stand in such close proximity in the narrow hallway, barely clothed and dripping wet. Aidan’s tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip, my eyes unable to move from his luscious, now wet, lips. Fuck. I step back towards my bedroom, trying to make my getaway.

Aidan raises an eyebrow, and leans up against the doorway to the bathroom. “Yeah, that would have been somethin’ else,” he says in a gravelly voice.

My eyes skim over his firm, muscular torso.

Gulp.

Ryan Gosling, eat your heart out.

“There are spare towels in the cupboard if you want to dry off. I … I need to get dressed.”

“No worries, I’ll sort it.”

“Night, Aidan,” I mutter.

“Yeah, night,” he says softly. I struggle to pull my gaze away from the longing in those dreamy eyes. Fuck, that look is doing wicked things to me. I revel in the moment briefly and then remember … yet again, that I have a boyfriend, he has a girlfriend, and I smile politely, and march into my room. I let out the loudest of sighs as my back thuds against the back of the door.

What the fuck just happened?

Did I run over a black cat? Did I royally fuck someone over in a past life? The tall, dark, handsome stranger in the very next room, has upset the basic rhythm of my heart, and has me craving things I shouldn’t … not with him. This is cruel. So very cruel.

Against All Odds - PROLOGUE

I’m so cold. It’s the kind of cold that seeps into my bones and makes me feel as though I’m going to die. My body trembles from the drugs and sheer terror coursing through my veins.

Why is this happening to me?

What did I do to deserve this?

Please, God! I can’t handle it.

I open my mouth to scream, to cry, to do something, but nothing comes out. I’m aware of doctors and nurses surrounding me. They’ve placed Kayla on my chest. She’s still warm from being pulled from my body, but she's not moving.

She’s lying there . . . lifeless.

I’m in a state of disbelief as tears slide down my face. My world shatters when I look at my precious baby girl. She's everything I’ve always wanted, always dreamed of.

Slowly, I run my fingers over her delicate lips; they’re so soft and small. An instant reminder of Cooper’s lips. He doesn’t have full and luscious lips like mine but small ones that almost disappear when he smiles. As I run the tips of my fingers across her puffy cheeks and closed eyes, I try to memorize every last detail of her dainty face. She’s so beautiful it takes my breath away. Her hair reminds me of caramel; it’s light brown and silky to the touch. It looks like mine did when I was a baby. Her face is peaceful, and for a single moment, I’m so thankful she’s not in pain.

Looking at my little girl is a moment I’ve always dreamed of. I love her instantly, and I want to hold her forever. To breathe her into me. To never let her go. The realization that I’ll never hold my precious baby again sinks in, and I feel my stomach clench as pain rips through me. I’ll never get to see her smile, laugh, roll over, or take her first steps. I’ll miss it all.

How do I move past this?

Can I move past this?

As grief consumes me, my sobs become brutal. I feel as though I’m dying. Like my heart is burning up and turning to ash. I’ll never ever be whole again.

I pick her up and cradle her against my body, wanting to feel her skin against mine. She feels warm—soft and smooth, like velvet. As I curl my arms around her, my tears drip onto her perfect head. I feel an overwhelming urge to fix this, to bring her back. I don’t want to lose my sweet baby. Everything in my body, my soul is screaming to bring her back.

Desperately looking up at Cooper’s green eyes, I will him to fix this, to make it better and help me. Help her. He’s always been my rock, my glue, the person who makes everything better. But all I see in his eyes is sadness, desperation, and helplessness that I know is killing him as much as it is me. He rubs his big, shaking hand gently over her tiny head. He looks as though he’s being tortured. Sobs rip through his body as he wraps his arms around me and our precious bundle while climbing into bed with us. I feel myself collapse against his chest as we sob over our loss.

There’s nothing we can do.

This is the end of a shattered dream.

Our spirits are slowly dying, and I’m not sure we’ll ever be able to heal.

All rights reserved. Against All Odds © 2014 Copyright, Angie McKeon.

When a series of events force them together over New Year’s weekend, Jonathan’s feelings and ethics will come into question, while Jada comes to terms with the fact that she is falling for the man that will be responsible for attempting to put her behind bars… Little do they know, they're both about to fall into a whirlwind so deep, it will send both their lives spiraling out of control.

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Love, Lies & the D.A. - Excerpt

We finish lunch and watch a movie and some football, complete with popcorn and soda. When the sun starts its descent, we head to the hot tub. I am a little nervous. I hope I don’t gawk at him again. I slip into a little white bikini, wrap myself in a robe, and head out.

When I get onto the terrace, I try to ignore the fact that ass-hugging Ralph Lauren trunks cling to every inch of his well-endowed front… and back. He steps into the tub, and after I tear my robe away, he stretches out his hand and helps me in. I have no idea what I was thinking when I agreed to this. I can’t get hot and sexy images of us having passionate sex in the tub out of my head.

Since Richard and I broke up, my body has craved sexual pleasure in a way it hasn’t before, but this is flipping torture. Sure, I’ve pleasured myself a few times, but there is no substitute for a man who you’re physically attracted to who you know knows all the right things to do to you in bed. Sitting opposite to him, I close my eyes, sit back, and relax. I hope that I don’t give him a clue that while I lie here, I am practically salivating at the mouth and lusting for his sexual pleasure.

I am just starting to calm down and relax when he raises one of my feet and massages, working his thumbs from around my ankle to the arch of my foot and then my toes. My God, I swear this could be considered foreplay, because what he is doing to me right now causes all sorts of tension to develop between my thighs, along with the tingling sensation that runs down my lower back.

My goodness. Is he purposely trying to seduce me, or is he completely unaware of what his actions are doing to my body?

Oh, don’t be naïve, Jada. Of course he knows what he’s doing. He’s made his feelings for you abundantly clear.

He moves to my other foot, and as he works, a soft moan spurts out of my lips. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this sexually aroused. I try to remember the last time I was with Richard, and nothing comes to mind. Jonathan snaps me back to the present when his hands move from my feet and he works his way up my calf.

Oh God, that feels good.

I feel like I’m losing control. I want him to make love to me. I open my eyes, and I’m startled when I find him staring straight at me. He hooks his arms under my thighs and pulls me towards him. The look in his eyes are filled with pure desire. I’m straddling him, and I can feel his erection in the center of my crevasse; just a few thin strips of fabric are between us.

He folds me in his arms and draws me close to him. My heart explodes between our bodies, and my hardened nipples are against his chest. I lean my forehead against his, and finally our lips touch. He gently braces my head with his palm, and I wrap my arms around his neck. He kisses me again, but this time I part my lips, allowing his tongue to slip into my mouth. I open my mouth wider, letting him deepen our kiss, allowing our tongues to tease and explore each other. My hands roam over his neck, shoulders, and chest.

His hands glide over my shoulders and down to my back. He draws me closer towards him. Kissing my neck, his hands caress my back, and his fingers inch closer to the ties of my swimsuit.

Suddenly, I remember that he may very well be the man to ensure that I am sent off to prison.

I pull away. My breathing is heavy—so is his. My forehead is still against his. He kisses me on my cheek then my neck.

“Why’d you have to be the bloody District Attorney?” I whisper.

“And why’d you have to be a suspect?” he responds.