Spotlight: Wicked Dance by Olivia Booth

wicked-dance-tour-graphic.jpg
wicked-dance.jpg

She never imagined her heart could ever dance again…
 
Former dance student Sara Hart had aspired to grace the stage on Broadway, but a reckless decision forced her to renounce that dream. Years later, while struggling with an ungratifying job and an even more unsatisfying love life, she literally stumbles upon a dangerously sexy stranger who sends her heart—and her body—into hyperdrive. His touch makes her feel alive again and sparks a desire to rebuild her dance career. But Sara is still haunted by the demons of her past. One dark lie could cost her everything.
 
He’d stopped believing in love …
 
Real estate mogul Tom Wright caters to the rich and famous. He lives the life of the perfect bachelor—partying hard and dating the most beautiful women in Manhattan. But he has one golden rule–no commitments. Ever. Then he meets sexy Sara Hart, and something about her makes him want to throw the damn rule book out the window. Every time she’s near, the blood in his veins pulses with a raging fire he can’t contain. But Tom’s shadowed history is resurfacing, unearthing ghosts he’d rather remain buried.
 
Will this wicked dance be their last?

Excerpt

The things he did to me without even touching me made my head spin. That he basked in torturing me with such subtleties only made me crave him more. If he could fire me up with a simple look, I could only imagine what having his hands all over me could do.

The jacket was too big for my frame, but I was deliciously warm, and when I realized I was bathed in his scent, I wrapped it tighter around me.

“Better?” he asked, holding back a trembling smirk pulling at the corners of his lips, trying to mask the satisfaction bouncing in his eyes.

He wasn’t very good at it.

I shot him a steely gaze. “Much, thank you,” I replied coolly, trying to squelch his overheated ego.

He reached across and ran his knuckles over my cheek. “Anything for my damsel.”

Christ. Really?

I’d just managed to cool myself down and he went in for a knuckles-over-the-cheek move? What could I do? His touch emitted a calming warmth. I stared at him, trying to figure him out. Hot/cold, hot/cold. Could he make up his mind? He dropped his hand and reached inside his pocket for a piece of paper and pen.

Back to cold.

“You need to leave your name, number, and keys in the drop box.” He scribbled down my name then hovered the pen-point over the paper, waiting for me to drop him my digits.

“You know, if all you wanted was my number, you could have asked me back in New York. You didn’t have to construct this whole rescued-princess tale.”

He swung his head toward me, his eyes unblinking. “Now you tell me.”

Both of us tried to stifle a laugh, but we failed miserably. I gave him my number and after he left to drop the paper and keys in the drop box, he popped back inside.

“So, thanks for all your help. How much do I owe you for the tow?”

He tilted his head to the side, his forehead lined with offence. “Please, you owe me nothing. This is the least I can do for kidnapping you this evening.”

“Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Maybe.” He chuckled. “It’s getting late, and I should bring you home before your mom grounds you and I can’t see you again.”

“You want to see me again?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

A wolfish grin stretched across his lips. “If you’re a good girl.”

I sat in my seat unable to come up with a retort. My mind swirled. Did he mean good as in good, or good as in bad, in which case being bad was good? But how bad is bad for it to be good before it really becomes bad, in which case being bad wouldn’t be any good?

A few minutes later, we were across the George Washington Bridge. We drove the rest of the way with bluesy tunes crooning in the background. As we approached my apartment, a sense of loneliness enveloped me.

I don’t want to leave him.

“You are home, Sara. Safe and sound, like I promised.” He turned to face me then ran a hand through his silky hair. The lights from the street lamps sparkled in his eyes. His olive skin was flawless and flushed, his lips soft and beckoning. Then he smiled, causing my heart to squeeze in my chest. He looked mythical. I was so drawn to him, the feeling teetered on being painful.

Fearful of losing myself in him, I looked away and dropped my chin to my chest. With a sigh, I peered up at my building through the car window, whispering to myself, “Yep, I guess I am home.” Then I turned toward him, hoping the charm had been broken. “What now?” I asked.

Eyes aflame with bewitchment, he mystified me, and I realized I wasn’t sure if the spell could ever be broken. Tom inched closer, his gaze continuing to arrow deep into me for another brief moment before narrowing slowly over my lips. In a sultry bedroom voice, he uttered, “It was lovely meeting you, Sara. You made an adventure of what would have been an otherwise uneventful evening.”

Whatever it was, purposeful or not, his voice did insane things to my feminine parts.

I swallowed hard. “Likewise,” I whispered as we both inched closer to one another, eyes focused on the other’s mouth. The knock of my heart hammering against the walls of my chest muted every other sound around me. His large hand reached for my jaw, where he carefully outlined my chin with his thumb before brushing its pad over my bottom lip. My breath caught at the tingling sensation. He licked his lips as he watched my reaction to his touch.

As his chest rose with one heavy inhale, his hand lacing through my hair, palming the back of my head and bringing me closer to his lips, I turned away, cutting the tether holding us together, shattering the tension, obliterating the kiss I had longed for all night.

Buy on Amazon | Barnes and Noble

About the Author

olivia-boothe.jpg

Author of deep and sexy contemporary romance, Olivia Boothe enjoys crafting novels about complex characters and compelling storylines. Her romances encompass a blend of heartfelt emotion and steamy passion.
 
Coffee addict and red wine lover, when she’s not busy conjuring up a new story, Olivia likes to binge read across genres. You’ll typically find her with one book on her e-reader, a second on her phone, and a print book in her oversized handbag.
 
Olivia resides in Northern New Jersey with her husband, their three boys, and a miniature dachshund.
 
Connect: Website | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter