About the Book
Iris Clayton is supposed to be on a tropical island, soaking up the sun and a few dozen mojitos. Instead, she’s snowbound in Chicago overnight, holding out hope the morning flight isn’t cancelled. Good thing there’s a hot cowboy to keep her company. And it doesn’t hurt that Mr. Tall, Calm, and Sun-Streaked can make her tremble with one sultry look from under his well-worn hat.
Montana rancher Nash Wallace sucks at ice skating, has no clue what a selfie is, and may be a tad averse to breaking and entering, but being with Iris makes him want to bend a few rules. Or, hell, throw them out the window altogether. She’s fun, spontaneously crazy, and can rock a Muppet fur coat like no one’s business. He’s falling hard and fast, but wanting to spend his life with someone after one night is insane.
Except, nothing has ever felt so right, and neither of them wants the night to end…
He snagged a table near the floor and leaned toward a waitress to yell an order in her ear before lowering himself into a chair. He stretched his long, lean legs out in front of him, crossed his ankles, and put his toothpick in his mouth. She wasn’t sure what his deal was with that thing, but damn if he didn’t look freaking sexy chewing on it, his thumbs hooked in his jeans while he watched her. Not something she thought would be sexy but… Wow.
Maybe it was something about the way his tongue swirled around it, moving it back and forth in his mouth. Or the way his eyes, shadowed by his hat, followed her every move. Being watched like that, with that heat smoldering from his gaze, sent a streak of desire through her so strong goose bumps broke out on her arms. Her breathing sped up, her pulse pounded. He wasn’t even touching her, yet he had her wanting him—bad. That was talent.
Well, if he wanted to watch her moves, she’d better give him something worthwhile to see. She moved a little closer to him, so no one would have any doubt who she was dancing for, and she let her body take over. Her hips swayed. Her hands caressed her own body, running from her waist down to her thighs and back up before she let her arms swing.
She ran her hands through her hair, letting them trail down her neck and across her collarbone. Nash sat forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. She swiveled her hips, turning in a slow circle, but she kept her eyes locked with his for as long as she could, whipping her head back around to capture his gaze again as she turned.
A small smile played at his lips, and she answered it. This time, when her hands trailed up her sides, she let her shirt ride with them, revealing what she hoped was a tantalizing peek of the abs she killed herself to maintain. His jaw clenched, snapping the toothpick in half. Oh yeah. Every damn crunch had been worth it. She pulled the shirt up a tiny bit higher. He bit his bottom lip, and the muscles deep within her clenched. Holy shit, she might come right here on the dance floor.
She trailed her hand over her bare stomach, her mouth parting at the sensation. Nash threw the destroyed toothpick on the table and stood up. A slow smile spread across her lips.
About the Author
Kira Archer resides in Pennsylvania with her husband, two kiddos, and far too many animals in the house. She tends to laugh at inappropriate moments, break all the rules she gives her kids (but only when they aren't looking), and would rather be reading a book than doing almost anything else. She has odd, eclectic tastes in just about everything and often lets her imagination run away with her. She loves her romances a little playful, a lot sexy, and always with a happily ever after.