SEASON OF SECOND CHANCES
By: Brighton Walsh
Publication Date: December 5, 2013
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When a storm strands Claire Hanlin in Chicago on Christmas Eve, the last person she expects to come to her rescue is Logan Dawes, the man she almost married two years ago. The chemistry between them is dangerously potent, but with nowhere else to go, Claire accepts Logan’s offer to stay with him for the night.
Back in the home they shared, surrounded by reminders of Logan and his young daughter, Claire begins to realize how much she misses the family she almost had. After a few cups of Christmas cheer, she falls right back into her ex’s arms—even though she knows it means setting herself up for heartbreak all over again.
The magic of the season has thrown him together with the woman he’s never stopped loving, and Logan’s not about to pass up this gift. He’s not the workaholic he was two years ago—his family comes first. Now all he has to do is prove it to Claire, before the snow stops and she flies out of his life for good.
Read An Excerpt
His tree was the most pitiful thing she’d ever seen. It was artificial and about two feet tall and as gangly as a pre-teen growing into their limbs. Hours later, after he’d dug through storage to find the Christmas decorations Sophie had made him purchase last year, they were in full decorating mode.
“This is the ugliest tree I’ve ever seen.”
The sound of his laugh, loud and carefree, still warmed her insides. It never failed to bring a smile to her face. “Hey, don’t hate on the tree. It can’t help how it was made.”
“Seriously, putting these ornaments on it isn’t going to do anything. It’s like putting lipstick on a pig.”
It wasn’t really that bad, but she needed to deflect before she did something ill-advised. Once again, memories had taken her captive. All she could think about was their first Christmas together after he’d asked her to move in with him. They’d picked out a real tree because that was the kind she’d always had growing up. Logan didn’t care one way or another, so he went along with whatever she wanted. After finding one and hauling it to his place, they’d decorated it with twinkling lights and brand new ornaments, and it had been the most perfect tree she’d ever seen because she shared it with the man she loved.
She shivered as she recalled what he’d leaned in to whisper in her ear after the last ornament had been hung. How sad was it that three years later she recalled every detail, down to the brush of his fingers against the back of her neck as he’d pushed her hair aside, then the soft cadence of his voice as he’d whispered that he wanted to fuck her right then, right there, under the lights of the tree.
The sudden illumination of the lights brought her back to the present. When she lifted her eyes to his, he was staring intently at her, and she knew he was recalling the same thing. And though she knew she should, she couldn’t look away. His pale eyes were always so entrancing, but combined with the hungry way he was looking at her, she was a goner.
“If you’re serious about backing off, you need to stop looking at me like that.”
She swallowed, attempting to impart some moisture in her too-dry mouth. “Like what?”
He stepped toward her until he was mere inches away. Her nose came to his chest, and she wanted to press her face to it and inhale deeply. She wanted to slide her arms around his waist and hold him to her, and then she wanted to let him take her right there on the floor under the lights like they had that night so many years ago.
His finger pressed lightly under her chin, tipping her face to his. He slipped his hands around to cup her face, his thumbs sliding on her jaw. Without conscious thought, she reached up and gripped his forearms, closing her eyes. His lips fluttered barely-there kisses along her cheekbones, her eyelids, her forehead. His hands slipped down to her neck and his lips took a path to her ear. When he spoke, his voice was like liquid sex, and she wanted to drown in it.
“Like you want me to bend you over the couch and fuck you right here.”
ABOUT BRIGHTON
Brighton Walsh is a storyteller at heart. Whether through words or pictures, she’s been weaving tales for as long as she can remember. After decades of cultivating her writing, she finally decided to give life to the voices in her head and set forth to write her first novella. Love is her first love, and writing about it is a dream come true. When she’s not overwhelmed by the incessant chatter in her mind, you can generally find her with her nose buried in a steamy book or partaking in some retail therapy. The setting of her life story takes place in the Midwest, characters including her very own real life hero she found in her supportive and swoony husband, and her two energetic kids who (fortunately) know nothing about the naughty things she puts down on paper.
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