At the Heart of the Stone
Roxanne D. Howard
Genre: Contemporary Romance,
Paranormal Romance,
Contemporary Fantasy
Publisher: Loose Id
Date of Publication: February 16, 2016
ISBN: 9781682520451
ASIN: B01BUQLMCM
Number of pages: 323
Word Count: 118,000
Cover Artist: Dar Albert
Book Description:
Dreams are the perfect shelter for our fantasies, safe havens to step inside without changing our daily lives. For Lark Braithwaite, all that is about to change. During the last six months, Lark has dreamt of a mysterious Irish lover who knows what she wants and gives her exactly what she needs. In her waking life in busy London, things aren’t as ideal, as her long-term relationship with Charles, her controlling fiancé, has hit a dry spell.
When Lark is called home to Oregon for her father’s funeral right in the middle of a high-stakes corporate merger, she heads back to face the demons from her past. What she doesn’t expect is to meet her dream lover in the flesh. Niall O’Hagan steps straight out of her fantasies and right into her life, and the powerful connection they share rocks her foundation. Although she's dealing with the bitterness of being betrayed by Charles and his jealousy, Niall soon stirs Lark’s awareness of the superficiality of her existence and reawakens not only her sexuality, but her soul.
Excerpt:
The blindfold
was tied on and made of soft black material that caressed her skin. Though she
knew it was light out, the mask bathed her in darkness. Still, she was aware of
his touch, his heated, pulling kisses that moved away from her lips and trailed
down her jaw to her throat, over her collarbone, toward her breasts.
A tug pulled her
hoodie up a little, and he slowly zipped it open, yanking the front of her
T-shirt down, her bra right along with it. She couldn’t see anything, but knew
it was him. Her dream lover.
She expected him
to latch on to her nipple, but he didn’t. He caressed it instead, flicking his
fingernail along the sensitive bud, marking a trail of pebbling, tantalizing
kisses around the entire circumference of her right breast. He laved the
sensitive underside with his warm tongue, making her whimper, while his hand
came up to fondle her left breast.
Lark was aware
they were both lying on the porch swing, but he distracted her by seizing her
nipple with his teeth.
She groaned. He
chuckled, the vibrations reverberating through her whole body. She clutched him
tighter. Lark wanted to pull off the blindfold, but he had her pinned down. He
continued his ministrations, kissing his way over her bared, flat stomach,
across her hip bone, and closer to his ultimate goal. She covered his hand at
her hip with hers and grasped it. She was a sweaty mess from her run, but it
seemed like he was taking in everything about her.
“Wait,” she
said. “I-I can’t see you. I want to. Take this off.”
“I’m here,” he
assured her, crawling back up over her body.
Knuckles brushed
softly down her cheek, and she could feel his gaze on her. “You’re so
beautiful,” he murmured.
Lark gave up
fighting her blindness and self-lamentations as his lips pressed against her
own. “Mmm, yes,” she moaned between kisses. “Kiss me, God, yes. I don’t want to
feel anything anymore but you.” There was something about the darkness that
emboldened her. She felt his chest and encountered the lapels of a jacket of
some sort. She yanked him all the way down, moaning and sucking his lower lip
between her teeth.
In an instant,
the full weight of his body came down upon her, and his kisses changed from
having been demanding and passionate to the complete polar opposite.
It was as if he
was timid and reluctant, yet the more she gave to him--putting her arm around
his neck and releasing the fury of her frustrations out on him--the more he
began to respond. Tentative at first, with a hint of reluctance he’d never
shown before. What was this? A cool breeze blew past her face, and a sense of
déjà vu of the night before overtook her.
*
* * *
If the kiss had
stayed careful and guarded, she might have continued to question it. But the
blindfold disappeared, and she realized she’d fallen asleep. Her eyes flew
open, and he was there. Oh my God. He was there! Heated eyes watched her.
Rakish dark hair fell over his forehead as he breathed hard, and the morning
sun lit up the world behind him. She took a deep, shuddering breath to speak,
but his hands moved to cup her face. He held still and closed his eyes as his
lips took her mouth. Right then and there, it was very clear that this was
real. That was the weight of a real man on top of her, clothed, and smelling
citrusy and clean. What in the hell is happening here?
How did he get
here? He was only her dream lover.
Or was he?
Confused beyond
all comprehension, Lark didn’t have any time to contemplate what was really
going on. His lips delivered a breath-stealing, soul-shattering kiss, and then
they were all over each other. This, ah, this she knew. Lark hooked her ankle
over his and put a hand on his shoulder, trying to rid him of his jacket and
draw him closer. She clenched her hand in his hair as he devoured her mouth. He
tasted the same as her dream lover, and she put her tongue in his mouth to
savor more of that tangy sweetness.
They were both
making noises they never had in her dreams, little breathy gasps and blasts of
air as their mouths met and separated as they sought new angles and depths to
their passion.
He made a
disgruntled sound as he tried to get more comfortable in the cradle of her hips
over the hindrance of clothes, and she realized she really wasn’t dreaming
anymore. He nibbled on her lower lip as she opened her mouth to tell him to
stop, but then she was carried away in the undercurrent of his large, warm
hands, which were caressing the skin of her stomach beneath her hoodie and
T-shirt. She continued to accept his kisses but pawed down her still zipped-up
sweat jacket. Okay, so she was still clothed. He was rock hard against her, and
he ground his hips into her, a disbelieving grunt escaping his lips. Lark
rolled her eyes back, shivering at the jolt that went through her.
“Wh-- Mmm. Whoa.
Stop!” She finally managed to say against his mouth. She furrowed her eyebrows
and scrutinized him as he breathed in and out, bracing himself on the weight of
his hands above her, his bright green eyes bearing into hers. His face was the
face of her dreams--the sensual, bowed lips and cleft chin, the built body, and
the thick hair. His hair... She blinked. It was cut at the nape and styled for
a day at work. She glanced down at what he was wearing.
“Um, why are you
wearing a suit and tie this time?” she asked, squinting against the sunlight.
Please, God, let this be a dream. He moved his head, putting her in shade.
“This time?” He
lifted an eyebrow, perplexed. “You’ll have to forgive me, lass, but I’ve no
idea what the devil you’re talking about.” He maneuvered himself off her and
sat upright at the end of the swing.
She tucked her
feet against her and sat up, unable to do anything more than blink at him in
utter disbelief.
“I was coming up
to knock on the door when I saw you lying here, and given how you were tossing
and the noises you were making, it looked like maybe you were having some sort
of a seizure.”
He seemed
contrite, and he turned his head as he licked his lips, full and abused from
her kisses. Something close to mortification bloomed inside her.
“Erm,
you...begged me to kiss you, and then you yanked me down. One thing led to
another and, well, that was pretty much the way of it. I am only human, though
I know that’s no excuse.” He swallowed and stared at her, his Adam’s apple
moving in his throat. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have gone down when you pulled
me, but it was strange--like you knew me or something.”
Lark leaned
forward and rubbed her eyes. This couldn’t be real. She was hallucinating. She
had to be. When she opened her eyes she’d see a man in his fifties with a receding
hairline, glasses, and a beer gut. She reopened her eyes, and there he was: The
full package. In the flesh. There was an air of intelligence in the way his
eyes scrutinized her. She sat up and planted her feet on the porch, then put a
hand to her head. The vertigo from earlier returned. “No, I’m sorry. I was
dreaming...”
“Excuse me for
saying so, but it must’ve been one hell of a dream.”
Lark nodded and
tried not to black out as a wave of dizziness came over her.
“You look like
you’re dehydrated. Hold on.”
The lilt of his
familiar Irish accent soothed her like warm milk. He stood and walked over to a
black laptop case propped near the front door that had several thick manila
folders sticking out of its open center, one of which she could see said
BRAITHWAITE in large, capital letters on an index label. He crouched down and
unzipped the front pocket, extracting an unopened plastic water bottle.
“Here,” he said,
unscrewing it and holding it out to her.
“Thanks.” She
accepted the bottle and took a long sip of the cool water. It almost instantly
revived her. She wiped a little water off the corner of her mouth with the top
of her knuckle as he watched her. She offered it back to him, but he shook his
head and reclaimed his seat next to her.
“Keep it.
Drink.”
“Thank you.” She
closed her eyes and took several large gulps, the cool liquid a balm to her
throat.
“My name’s Niall
O’Hagan.”
His voice was
deep and pleasant. It sounded different, lighter than the sultry bedroom voice
she was used to from her dreams.
“I’m the
Braithwaites’ attorney.”
Lark paused in
midsip and lowered the bottle in her hands. “You--no.” She laughed, glancing at
him.
His mouth lifted
at the corners, as if it were dawning on him he was the butt of a joke he
wasn’t aware of. “I...what?”
Oh, the irony of
dreaming about her father’s lawyer this whole time. Oh my God. She started
giggling. This was it; she was officially losing it. She got up and walked over
to the top step of the porch, put a hand over her face, and plunked herself
down. “I am so messed up.”
A sudden,
unwanted flash of Gemma saying “darlin’” to Charles yesterday surfaced, and
tears stung her eyes. She went silent and willed them not to fall. It was no
use.
After a moment,
Niall sat down on the step beside her. “I’d offer you a drink, but I quit ten
years ago.”
Lark laughed,
despite the tears. “An Irish attorney who doesn’t like Guinness is like an
Englishman who doesn’t like fish and chips or something.”
“I know;
shameful,” he said with mock contrition. “Don’t hold it against me. I’m doing
the world a favor. Trust me. I was a horrible drunk. Seriously, though, are you
okay, miss?”
Lark scoffed and
gesticulated with her hands to the sky. “It’s Lark. And what a loaded question
of the day.” She couldn’t look at him, not after what happened. She clenched
the edge of the step on either side of her and stared out at the trees.
“Well,
considering we’ve already gone to second base, we might as well be open with
each other. Forgive me if I’m candid, but it seems you were having an alleged,
eh, intense dream, and you woke up and believed I was him. Is that right?”
Horror dawned on
her at what she’d done, and her jaw dropped. “No!” Yes. She glanced at him, and
his knowing expression said he knew that was exactly what happened.
“I see,” he
said, his tone careful but persistent. “Then why did you kiss me like that?”
“I-I don’t have
to answer that.” She lifted her chin with defiance.
He scooted
closer to her. “No, you don’t. But I wish you would.”
She scratched
her head in frustration and jumped up, moving toward the door.
“I’m sorry to
embarrass you,” he said, and she paused with her hand halfway to the doorbell.
“I’m decent. I would never-- I never meant to take advantage of you at all,
please know that. When you kissed me like that, so familiar, I...”
It occurred to
her Niall was being a lot more of a gentleman about the whole thing than most
men would be, given how horrid the situation was. And she, meanwhile, was being
a total bitch. And the poor guy had no clue as to why.
He met her in
two quick strides, and his proximity alarmed her. They’d never both been
standing in any of her dreams. He was at least a few inches over six feet, well
built with wide shoulders and a lithe, muscular frame to complement the height.
He assessed her
as well, and his eyes widened with realization. “Wait. Lark? Rick’s daughter?
But you’re so little,” he said, surprised. “From the pictures, I assumed you’d
be, erm-
“Fatter?” she
asked, glad she was at least back on sure ground. She could always toss jokes
around about her heavy days. “It’s okay. You can go ahead and say it. I’ve lost
a lot of weight.”
Niall put a hand
to the back of his neck. His eyebrows rose. “I think ‘a lot’ is an
understatement. Good on you! My mam struggled with her weight too; I know from
growing up with her how hard it is to lose it. Well, you look amazing. Wow.”
He rolled his
eyes at himself and glanced away. The bizarreness of seeing him act misplaced
and common, and not at all like a sex panther, was messing with her.
“I’m sorry.” He
laughed. “I sound like an idiot. Listen, I hope you don’t think I’m some
leering wanker. This is...awkward.”
“You can say
that again,” she murmured with a small smile, wondering what he would say if
she told him she’d been having erotic dreams of him every night for the last
six months. It was bad enough she’d just made out with the guy.
She held out her
hand but didn’t make eye contact. “So listen, how about we forget it ever
happened, okay? I’m Lark Braithwaite. I flew in a couple of days ago from
London.”
He took her hand
and closed his long fingers over hers. “Niall O’Hagan. Pleasure.” He stepped a
little closer. “And I’m all for a clean slate, but forgetting’s not on my
agenda, lass. I’m taking that one to the grave. Hands down the best snog I’ve
ever had in my life. Client’s daughter or no, you can’t take it back.”
About the Author:
Roxanne D. Howard is an author with Loose Id. She has two titles published and one series coming out over the holidays. She is a U.S. Army veteran, and has a bachelor's degree in Psychology and English. She loves to read poetry, classical literature, and Stephen King. She is also an avid Star Wars fan, musical theater nut, and loves everything related to marine biology. She resides in the mid-western United States, and is the proud mother of two beautiful girls, several pets, and loves to spend time with her husband and children when she's not writing. Roxanne loves to hear from her readers, and she can be contacted at author@roxannedhoward.com.
To find out more, please visit her website at www.roxannedhoward.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/RoxanneDHoward
Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29245889-at-the-heart-of-the-stonea Rafflecopter giveaway
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