It's time for Mid Week Tease where my author friends and I post a little something from a WIP, flash fiction piece or from some of our published work for you, the readers. A huge THANKS to fellow author Sandra Bunino for creating this weekly event!
The Good Sister: Part One.
This book, which was the recipient of the JERR Gold Star Award, is currently in the audio production stage and will be coming to audiobook this summer!
Reid Addison feared nothing, except how the mousey little blonde daughter of his housekeeper made him feel. Even though Trinity Winslow wasn’t his type, there was something intriguing about her.
Lord Ashton Archer lived a fairy tale life with property all over the world, was heir to a ducal dynasty, and had women fawning all over him. Anything a man could want, he obtained by the snap of his fingers.
By a twist of fate the three of them find their way into the same illicit world of the infamous Madam Jacqueline Claudette Rousseau. But will they find what each of them truly desires? Or will they always long for the forbidden?
Coming soon to Audible, Amazon and iTunes
Written by: London Saint James
Listening time: 10 hrs and 1 mn
Narrated by: Kitty Barclay
From the Good Sister: Part One
My breath came hard.
And my chest heaved with the effort as I ran around the house to the back entrance. I stopped at the door, took in a deep gulp of air, brushed some damp curls from my face, and turned the shiny knob. With careful precision I opened the door, making sure to be quiet, and stepped inside. Quickly, I scanned the hall. I didn’t see anyone. I’d beat him home. Closing the door behind me, I snuck down the back hallway. I had to be careful. Reid could never know I watched him. I backed up slowly, controlled my breath, and hid within the shadowed corner of the downstairs hall. He always stopped in the kitchen before making his way upstairs so he would walk right past me.
For the past two years I had observed him. Dreamed of him. Longed to touch him. But today was different. Reid would leave soon. I’d burn his image into my mind, and fuse it with the desire I felt, the love I felt, the need for him that I knew would go unattained. Even within my fantasy, deep down inside, I always knew the truth. All I ever had was my wanting of him, yet I wished for the impossible. To be the kind of woman to turn his head. I wanted to be the woman who would make him burn.
Footfalls echoed off the tiles of the kitchen floor, followed by the recognizable suctioned groan of the refrigerator door opening then closing. Next, came the sound of him lobbing something into the trash.
“Score!” he yelled.
I held my breath. He’s coming closer. As I figured, he walked right past me, his black hair tousled and wet with sweat. He’d been jogging. Something he did every day. I envied Reid’s freedom, his strength. I admired his sense of adventure, his boldness, and as always I admired his body.
Hungrily, I scrutinized him as he scaled the impressive staircase. He took two steps at a time until he reached the top of the stairs where he slowed. In a fluid forward motion he ripped off his dark blue Adidas T-shirt from over his head. My breath hitched.
Light sparkled out in the color of a kaleidoscope from the stained-glass window on the landing of the second floor. As he passed, the colors shimmered over the curve and cut of his muscular back. Brilliant, bright, illuminated, these facets of colors fell across the side of his face. Blue-green hues danced off the sweat glistening on his forehead, and framed Reid’s features like artwork.
I momentarily closed my eyes. I knew the lines of his face, having memorized them. The sharp slash of his cheekbones. That perfectly straight line of his nose. The square strength to his jaw. The jet of his Adam’s apple. And those tempting lips. Lips I wanted to feel upon my body, on my mouth, caressing my secret places. I shuddered with thought of those lips.
I opened my eyes, reminiscent of waking. He shrugged up his shoulders. Muscles, too numerous to count, flared with the movement. I stood in the shadow, completely taken in by him. He bowed his head to wipe the sweat from his face into the crook of his arm before he combed his hand through the moist strands of his hair. One piece, coal-black, fell over his right brow, teasing me. I wanted to scold myself for being teased. I should not be doing this, watching him, but I found it impossible to look away.
Desire flashed, wound into a tight coil within my stomach. He stood still for a moment, and twisted his T-shirt into a ball. With a quick flip of his wrist, he whipped it out in front of him before lashing the garment over his glistening bare shoulder. After that, he moved from view.
Was he mad, tense, anxious? He’s usually so calm, so controlled, so devastatingly smooth. Curious, I waited. Listened. In silence, I crept up the stairs on the balls of my feet. My hand rode the handrail. Polished rich mahogany slid beneath my palm until coming to the landing at the top. I stopped. Worried my lip with my teeth. Heard nothing except for the quickened beat of my own heart.
I made my way down the hall. The door to his room remained open. I paused before peeking around the oak encased doorjamb. I didn’t see him; however, I heard the sounds of the shower. A thousand thoughts skipped through my mind. I could be caught. But my need to see him outweighed all the conflict.
Don’t do it, Trinity.
You can find The Good Sister: Part One here:
Barnes & Noble
For more Mid Week Tease: