Spotlight & Giveaway: Colliding Hearts by L.M. Connolly

Today, HJ is pleased to share with you L.M. Connolly’s new release: Colliding Hearts

When hearts collide, can love survive?

 
After teacher and artist Rita Morley arrives in Houston from England for her art exhibition she’s so jet-lagged, she dives into a limo. Out climbs the man of her dreams – developer Daniel McCord. He’s also, as her best friend’s brother, off limits, until he makes it clear that he shares the attraction that has always burned between them. They both agree to a vacation fling – one week of sexual bliss. Only Daniel asks her to stay longer, and things turn serious until Rita learns he plans to demolish the building holding her art exhibition. Suddenly the lovers find themselves on opposite sides of the fight.
 
For Daniel McCord, work has always come first over friends and family and fun until he meets Rita. The sexy and sassy English painter makes his night burn with passion and his days full of stolen moments and joy. He can’t imagine his life without her, but he’s not convinced he can build a life with her. They have different goals and values. Then Daniel’s world is rocked when he discovers he has two brothers he’s never met. He needs Rita in a way he could never have anticipated.
 
If he can’t convince her to stay, Daniel will lose Rita for good.

Enjoy an exclusive excerpt from Colliding Hearts:

Rita shivered, and not from pain or shock. Daniel’s low voice promised more than nursing, although she didn’t know what the hell she was doing thinking about that when she felt like crap. If she relaxed, the reality of her situation would drive her insane. But when she looked at him she could forget that. He was her only hope.
The phrase “tall, dark, and handsome” could have been invented for this man. When she’d seen his pictures, she hadn’t seen the potent charm and the sheer power of his presence. Add a pair of startling, bright blue eyes and he was her idea of physical perfection. The Texan drawl didn’t hurt, either. It wasn’t broad enough to be incomprehensible but sexy and different to what she was used to.
The wrinkled and stained suit flapped open to reveal a famous label stitched to the inside. His physical presence was so much more than she’d expected, and it wasn’t just because of her weakened state. She felt fine, a bit banged up, but not dizzy, just a headache from the bump on her head. So it wasn’t that; she wasn’t delusional. This man was dynamite.
“We’ll leave you now,” the doctor said. “Call us if you even suspect anything’s wrong.”
The nursing staff left. Daniel and Rita didn’t have their own room, or anything fancy like that, but the noise in the emergency department outside made this little cubicle a relatively quiet oasis in the middle of a cacophony.
“Don’t tell Kelly about this.” She lifted her hand, indicating her head and their surroundings. “She needs to rest. Stress is the last thing she needs and I’m not badly hurt.”
He touched a finger to her lips, immediately removing it when she quieted. “I came to the same conclusion. I just told her I met you and we were doing well. Not how we met and where we are.”
She nodded, ignoring the fresh shot of pain when she did so. “I don’t want to bother her when she’s ill. I’ll tell her when she gets back, when I’m fine.” She bit her lip. “Except my phone was in the car. It’s probably been left behind.”
He drew it from his pocket. “I have it. With your permission I’ll take care of it for now. Do you have an international plan?”
“No.” She shook her head, but stopped abruptly. “It’s cheaper to stop at a phone shop and get a local monthly SIM. I was planning to do that after I’d been to the gallery.”
“I can loan you a company phone. We always have a few lying around.”
“Can I pay you for it?” She hated being beholden to anyone.
“No.”
That sounded final. But she’d pay him back somehow, maybe take him and his sister out to dinner when Kelly got back. But she kept her resolve to herself. “I have jet lag and I’m not up to being cheerful. I feel fine, just tired and bruised and sore. Did they say I could have painkillers?”
“Only mild ones. The doctor left a pack for you. Would you like some now?”
While the other voices sounded harsh and painful to her ears, his was mellow as treacle. Molasses, since she was Stateside now. “Yes, please.”
Daniel scooped an arm behind her and raised her gently, grabbing pillows to prop behind her back. This close, she scented him, remnants of his aftershave mingling with pure masculinity. The aroma appealed to something deep inside her and she had the urge to curl into him and just let him look after her. Stupid thoughts, that was all. Instead of meeting with him briefly and then going to see Kelly, he was stuck with her for now. “I have a room at the Marydew Hotel.”
“You can forget that. You’re coming home with me.”
She jerked away and instantly her head thumped and the distinctive smell of hospital antiseptic swamped her, turning her stomach. “No.” She managed to smile her thanks when he gave her a glass of water.
After she gulped down the pills he laid her gently back on the pillows.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. Just her luck to be rescued by a rich, handsome guy when she was looking and feeling so bad.
“Shut up,” he said, amusement shading his tones. “I’m here, it’s no problem.”
He didn’t like apologies, then. But she owed him so much. “Thank you, thank you. But I can’t stay here.”
Had she said that? Her head was spinning and she probably had jet lag too. Or sheer exhaustion. She’d been awake for sixteen hours straight, and none of it had been particularly pleasurable.
If she stayed in this hospital any longer she’d make a real idiot of herself. The night her parents had died, she’d begun this phobia. When the police had brought the news and taken her to the hospital, the smell, the lights, the medics had combined in her mind, and after two sleepless days and nights it had imprinted itself, merged into one great horror. Since she was in good health, it had never been much of a problem before. She’d managed to visit Kelly, before her friend went back home, and congratulated herself for getting through the doors. But when she was ill herself, her terror returned. She’d hurt her wrist at work once and needed an X-Ray, and even in the time it took the terror had grabbed hold of her. Lying down was the worst, it made her feel helpless, but at least they’d raised the bed head for her.
She should go to her motel. It was one thing to stay with her old friend, and pay her way. Quite another to be helpless, and stay with Kelly’s wealthy brother in what was probably a damned mansion. He wouldn’t let her pay for a thing, and she hated that.
“I’ll be fine at the Marydew.”
He gave her a reassuring smile. He made her feel better just with that smile, which curled gently in a part of her anatomy that should stay at rest, since every other part of her was shaken up.
“I thought we’d had that discussion. Kelly should be back tomorrow or the day after, so it’s only for a night or two. Sit still for a while. I’ll get you more pillows and when you feel ready we’ll get out of here.”
“Now, I want to go now.” Panic tightened her throat.
She wasn’t far away from going into a complete meltdown, and she hated those. With a passion. People stared, and she looked so stupid, and lost control of herself. The fear made her phobia worse, and so it went, cycling into complete loss of control.
He glanced at her and must have thought something because he plucked his phone from his pocket. “Okay.” He dialed out, booked a taxi. “They’ll call up,” he told her.
“Now?” She was getting desperate now.
In five minutes, he’d found a wheelchair, and signed her out. He wheeled her down to the exit himself.
My, my, money definitely talked in this place. “Thanks,” she mumbled when they reached the lobby. She sucked in a desperately needed lungful of air.
She could think properly again. “I’ll go to my hotel. I’ll be fine, I promise.”
“Listen.” He moved around the chair and took her hand. Tingles shot up her arm, but not the kind that made her wonder if the medics had missed a spot. These were pleasurable, a point of connection. “That place, the Marydew Hotel? It’s infested with bugs and roaches, I guarantee. The door won’t be safe. There are some decent but basic two-stars around here, but that’s not one of them.”
“Oh. I had to book it in a hurry.” Now she felt stupid.
He sighed. “Can you drop some of your independence? Just a little? I’m taking you home because Kelly isn’t here, so you can’t go to her place. You also need to be observed. That was the doctor’s condition. So if you don’t want me to do it, I’ll hire somebody.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. You are not going to that bug-infested shithole. Your only option is my place or a decent hotel—which I pay for.” He grinned. “Don’t worry, I have plenty of room.”
She didn’t know how she felt about that. Sure, she shouldn’t want to get so close to this man, but he was so firm, so strong she just wanted to lean on him. Only for a few hours, that was all, until her headache went and she felt better. And by then Kelly should be home. “Your place,” she said, giving in. But she’d find a way of paying him back.
“Good.”
He didn’t move back, but left her hand tucked into his. She wouldn’t make a fuss because she liked it there.
He watched her, lips pursed tightly. “You remember the accident?”
She nodded, then wished she hadn’t when her head throbbed anew. “I was late, and I couldn’t find my way around. I only had a paper map because the charger wasn’t working, and my phone was nearly dead. Besides, using the map app would have cost me a fortune. I glanced down.” She recalled it then, remembering. “I looked up and there was your car, too close. I slammed on the brakes, but they felt soft. Was it my fault?” Of course it was.
He frowned, and creases bracketed his mouth. “You were in a car you didn’t know. The airbag didn’t deploy when it should have and you were tired, in an unfamiliar place. You didn’t know the city and you were driving in conditions you weren’t used to. It could’ve happened to anyone.”
She gave him a wondering stare. “Shouldn’t you be angry? You were in something shiny and expensive.”
When he laughed, God help her, she loved it, wanted to move closer to him again. Not that she did, of course, but she had to fight the impulse. “My driver is dealing with the practicalities. He’ll look into the incident.”
“Your driver?” she echoed faintly.
He gave her a self-deprecating grin. “Yes. I have a driver. I need the time to work. I used to enjoy driving.”
She wished she could help him drive again, because his voice had turned wistful. “You should do it. Aren’t you the boss?”
His mouth quirked in a one-sided smile. “Yes.”
“So take time off and drive.”
“If I did that I wouldn’t stay the boss for long.” His expression sharpened. If she’d got him to consider the possibility, then she might have helped him a bit. She’d sunk so much into his debt she didn’t know where to begin to pay him back. “I have a dozen projects going.” Stopping abruptly, he changed the subject. “That car you were in was a wreck. If it fails safety tests, then we can prove it wasn’t your fault.” He sounded like something in a movie, not a real-life person. That slow drawl should be banned as too sexy to live.
“It was, I was tired, it stands to reason…” She stopped when he touched a finger to her lips. That was the second time.
An urge hit her to suck it in, taste it, watch his heavenly blue eyes darken to navy. How could she feel that way when she was so ill? Maybe relief that she was alive? “I did complain to the hire company when I went to pick it up, but they said it was the only one available. I could pay more or wait two hours for another.” She paused. “I can’t recall the impact. When I try I feel sick.”
“It’s not a requirement,” he said softly. “My driver saw it, so did I and at least six passersby. Don’t try to think. The memory will come back or it won’t, but that car was a wreck.”
“I’m only here for a week!” No time for any of that but the prosecution could follow her home and she needed her driving license to get to work every day.
A frown creased his tanned brow. “Pity.”
Why? She daren’t ask, not knowing if he’d give the answer she wanted. Okay, so she’d crashed her hire car and missed her appointment—shit, that was it.
She turned to him with a swift jerk of her body, groaning in pain. But she wouldn’t let him comfort her. She couldn’t forget this. Couldn’t. “The gallery will think I’m not coming. Then Wednesday—the day after tomorrow—I have to go for my opening night—oh God, oh God, I’ll be woozy and weird and they’ll think I’m nuts.”
Panic made her breath short and she stopped to collect air.
He merely smiled. She wished he wouldn’t do that, it made parts of her tingle that absolutely had no right. Not now. Not with the man whose car she’d just all but destroyed.
“I’ll call the car people and tear them a new one. Stop worrying.”
She didn’t want to move ever again. Not an inch. “I’ll be fine. Thank you. You weren’t serious, were you? About staying with me tonight?”
He shrugged. “I can’t let you stay alone. Doctor’s orders. You heard her.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ve had a minor concussion before.” She grinned, recalling the incident. “Hit on the head by a hockey ball. My mum kept an eye on me, but I was fine.” And horribly sick. The last thing she wanted was for him to witness that.
He overwhelmed her with his kindness. How on earth could she ever repay him? She said so, only to receive, “It’s fine.” He gave her a quizzical look. “When Kelly was at her worst, just after the chemo started, I made her stay at my place. A little concussion isn’t going to phase me after that.”
She’d seen that, too. And she knew what he meant. Thank God her friend was past that.
“I want a shower, or a bath.”
“They said you mustn’t get the wound wet, but if we’re careful, we can manage it.”
“We?” Her voice rose. “You’re kidding, right?” She tugged a strand of her hair, careful to avoid the sorest part, although it all prickled, felt on edge. “This will stink if I don’t get it clean.”
“So you’ll need somebody to help you. There’s glass in there, too. I can play nurse.”
The roguish look he gave her nearly did her in. How could she manage to keep him at a distance?
Stupid woman. This was obviously a nurturer. As soon as she recovered, he’d leave. Just as well. So stay here or let him help her get out of this place that made her backbone go completely cold with terror. She could ditch him once he’d seen her settled.
“But—”
He squeezed her hand. “Stop worrying. We’ll cope. How do you feel?” He had a sinful smile but she had a strong suspicion he was humoring her. She should find her e-reader, which fortunately, she’d packed in her handbag with her charger. That would help to keep her awake. Oh, yes, and she needed to get her phone and other shit charged up.
Anxiety twisted her insides when she recalled what she could have lost. “Do you happen to know what happened to my luggage?” She hated asking him, but she really needed his help. “Do I call the hire company or the police? Will they have confiscated it?”
“My driver sneaked your stuff into my car. Okay, wrong, but at least we can make sure you get it back sooner. Otherwise they might have hauled it away with the wreck.”
Relief made her slump, then her headache forced her to straighten. It felt better when she was sitting upright, or lying down. Not with her head forward. It made her cut throb, too. She’d have to do something clever with her hair on opening night. Her mind skittered in all directions, as if making up for lost time.
“Thank you.” When she lifted her hand, he took it. Far too easy and surely that little shot of pleasure she felt when he did it was wrong.
“I called Luther Mosse at the gallery,” he said.
“What did he say?”
“Sorry to hear about the accident and see you Wednesday night. They said they’d take some photos of the display and send them to your email address.”
Relief like she’d never known before swamped her, made her weak. She’d been terrified that if she didn’t show up, Luther Mosse might cancel. Although small, the gallery had a stellar reputation. People traveled especially to see the exhibitions there, and Mosse was famous for breaking new artists. He could make or break her.
Daniel had made this all so simple, smoothed her way. Left to herself she’d probably be a weeping husk by now. She rarely cried but if ever a situation deserved it, this was it.
“I’m coming with you on Wednesday night.”
He’d kind of asked himself, but she couldn’t object, because she needed somebody. “You’ll ride shotgun on me?”
He grinned, warmth infusing his gaze. “That’s a strange expression for a nice English girl to know.”
“Hardly a girl.” She bit her lip. He knew how old she was, because she was the same age as his sister. “Since The Magnificent Seven is on TV every Christmas, most people know what it means.”
He chuckled. Was there anything he did that wasn’t sexy? It was just her. In her current confused, in pain, vulnerable state a knight-errant would appear that way. No, she wouldn’t kid herself. Gorgeous, sexy, and used to looking after people. Her unreasonably strong reaction would mean nothing to him. It would pass after she’d had a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow night.
Everything swept in on her—the newness of everything, being cared for by strangers in an unfamiliar situation, the way everything seemed so different to what she was used to. She just wanted to lie down somewhere and rest.
At last the pills were working, taking the edge off the pain currently slicing her head open. How could everything go so wrong so quickly? And then so right again?
He took her hand, his warmth infusing her with strength. “One more thing. I told them we were together, so that I could get you out. If they knew we only met in person today, they might not let you go. It just eases things a bit.”
The doctor came down to them with the release papers just as the taxi arrived.
She let Daniel help her out of the chair and hold her until the inevitable dizziness subsided. She caught the doctor’s questioning stare. “How long have you known each other?” She must have noticed the clumsiness, and her initial recoil. Rita wasn’t used to being held by handsome men.
“A while,” he said.
He glanced at her, warmth in his gaze, but she had no idea what he meant to do until he swooped down to kiss her.
It started as a mere brush of his lips, but speedily morphed into something else. At the electrifying touch of his mouth, she gasped and he took advantage, but only to touch her lips with his tongue, a mere flick, before he finished the kiss and withdrew to smile down at her. “We met last year in London,” he said, “And this is her first visit to Texas.”
How did he tease that response out of her when she looked like crap and felt even worse?
Grabbing his hat from its temporary perch on the back of the chair, he settled it on his head. A business suit and cowboy hat did it for her. And the boots he was wearing. So Texan. So sexy.
He touched her shoulder, a reassuring nudge of his hand. Still numb from the kiss, although understanding why he did it, she glanced up at him, then at the doctor, whose expression had changed completely, from cynicism to warmth. And, yes, that hat looked great on him.
He helped her out of the building, leaning to exchange a word with her. As if normal for them, he gave her intimate touches, fleeting grazes of her shoulder, her hand. Even though it was for show, he made her feel cherished and wanted. She wasn’t used to that.
She didn’t feel as well as she’d assured him when she’d been trying to get him to drop her at her hotel. She had sore eyes, a headache nearer to a migraine, a sick feeling, and a weak sensation of not quite being there, of floating. Hateful.
The hospital doors opened automatically and she breathed out a huge sigh, delighted to get out of the soulless cubicle and the building that stank of illness and death.
He helped her into the taxi with the air of a man handling porcelain, joining her after he’d ensured she was comfortable.
The city passed the window like a movie on the plane. It looked about as real. This exotic place, Houston, a city she’d anticipated exploring was so different to anything she’d known before. Not like Paris, or Rome, or the Venice Lido or anywhere else she’d visited. Even Minorca. The people here spoke English but they didn’t feel the same, talk the same. Even ordinary words meant different things. Was it usual for such hospitality to be so generously offered? She had no idea, no firm ground under her feet. But she guessed not. Daniel had taken charge, and made everything so much easier for her.
The tall buildings were flat, square, some beautiful, all looked new. They gleamed in the light of the sun, now heading toward the horizon.
“Pardon me?”
“Oh, sorry, did I speak out loud? I was thinking the sun is the same. Have you ever visited Europe?” Still nervous from their kiss, she wanted to restore the atmosphere to something less fraught. Even though he seemed to take it in stride. His smile easy, he leaned against the seat, his arm stretched behind her head.
He gave a short laugh. “Yes. I know what you mean, it is different, isn’t it? It’s the other way for me. This is normal.”
The taxi took a couple of side streets. Less picturesque, dirtier, but still respectable. Just.
Leaning forward, he spoke to the driver. “Can you stop here a minute?”
“You sure?” the driver asked. “This ain’t a good area.”
“Yes. We won’t be getting out.” Daniel fixed his gaze on the view. “This is the place you booked, Rita. If you want to stay here, I’m coming in with you, but I wouldn’t advise it.”
They’d stopped outside a building that she kind of recognized, although its resemblance to the picture on the website was almost coincidental.
A dirty board outside proclaimed it as the Marydew Hotel, although from the layout it was definitely a motel. Shabby in the extreme, the windows and doors rimmed with black mold and a flashing neon light working to prevent sleep, it wasn’t the kind of place Rita would willingly stay. No wonder it was cheap.
Reluctantly, she admitted he was right. “Okay, you win. But I booked it in a hurry. I didn’t want you to pay for a hotel room for me.”
He gazed at her curiously, his lips firmed, a slight frown between his brows. “Drive on,” he said, without taking his attention from her.
The taxi drove out of the city and up a tree-lined avenue. Clapboard houses ranged on either side. The moon cast a silvery glow over the scene. “This is beautiful,” she murmured.
“Yes, it is.”
They turned off the main road and stopped. Daniel gave the driver a plastic card, which he scanned and passed back. A barrier lifted, and they drove on, as Daniel nodded to a man sitting in a cubicle. “It’s a gated community,” Daniel remarked.
“I’ve never been in one of those before.”
“I own this one.”
He said it so quietly she nearly missed his words. They passed some houses set back from the road in their own grounds, each house different. “You own the houses?”
“I own the land, but we leased the houses after we built them.”
She watched the houses pass, wondering what living in a place like this would be like. She lived in a shared flat in a suburb of London. Few people could afford a place of their own these days, but she was saving to afford a deposit on a place further out of town. She was nearly there, too.
When she turned her head she saw he was looking at her, not at the scenery.
They passed a house that had the appearance of a fairy castle, turret, and all. Pink, like a birthday cake. “For a minute I thought we were stopping there.” She shot him a roguish grin. “Would you live in a pink house?”
He shuddered. “Nope.”
The single word made her laugh, because of the disgust he managed to inject into it. “Not manly enough?”
“Not nearly enough. But it’s somebody’s dream house.”
The taxi took a drive, and stopped outside a yellow house. A pale, soft yellow, with white-painted windows and doors. “Oh, you have a verandah!”
She let him help her out of the car. When she fumbled for her bag, he’d already paid the driver. She couldn’t even do that for him.
This place even had a rocking chair outside. “Do you have a swing?”
“Yes.”
“A pool?”
“Out back.”
She caught her breath. “I was teasing.”
“I’m not.”
The taxi drove off, leaving her alone with him. Awkwardly, she ran the strap of her handbag through her hands. Gently, he reached for it and took it off her, their hands barely touching. Even that was electric. “Come on. Let’s go in. Larry has a key; he should have left your luggage inside.”
He let her enter first, but reached past her to flick on a light as she went in.
The first thing she saw was cherries, the red cherries on her black case. The sight greeted her like a touch of home. But the rest—that was something else. “Wow.”
They’d stepped into a wood-floored hallway, but it didn’t have doors. Instead it led directly to a huge room divided into several areas. Big, squashy sofas set around an Oriental carpet stood in front of floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a view of a pool with water so blue it rivaled the sky at midday. Or his eyes. Blue curtains framed the window and an arch beyond led to a dining area. The great room took up the whole of one side of the house, and doors led off it on the left. Stairs at the end led up to the next story. The house looked like a single-story from the outside, but obviously it was not.
In these pristine surroundings, she felt even more out of place. She was a mess. A sticky, bloody mess, but now she had the means to at least put most of herself to rights. “You’re very tidy.”
What a stupid thing to say, but compared to the flat she shared, it was a spacious paradise. Rita loved her life and her friends, but she had to admit her life outside the sixth form college she taught in was a bit chaotic.
The haphazard furniture, a mixture of what was there when they moved in and bits and pieces they’d acquired from auctions and junk shops couldn’t contrast more with the carefully casual arrangement of top-quality contemporary pieces in muted shades with the occasional pop of color.
The whole of her flat and probably part of the garden, too, would fit into this living space, and six of them lived there.
“I’m not usually here long enough to do anything else. I work long hours,” he confessed. “I have housekeeping come in twice a week. They take care of the basic housework and the people who fill the refrigerator have keys. The pool boy comes every other Thursday and a gardener comes over once a week.”
“Wow, all for you?” She could have bitten out her tongue, not intending her words to sound so sarcastic.
He only laughed. “All for me.” He took her along the side of the great room, matching his step to her still shaky ones and then waited for her to ascend the stairs before him. A low hallway ranged over the front of the house, small windows giving the view over the road and the house opposite. Tranquil and timeless. Beautiful.
To her fascination she saw why the house looked single-story. “The land is lower here than at the front.”
“Clever landscaping.”
He flung open a door opposite the view. “This is the biggest guest bedroom. The bathroom is through that door, the closet there.” He indicated a couple of white-painted doors.
This room had a cherrywood sleigh bed, the end bent over in a gracious curve. This house was elegant, beautiful. She loved it, but she knew what it needed. Someone to live in it and love it. She’d adore a place like this, but she’d want to put her personal stamp on it, enhance the décor with some of her paintings and a few quirky pieces.
A solid wooden floor unified the house, but this room had soft carpet laid over most of it in a gray-blue color. Very restful. One wall was almost all glass, and the view was amazing.
At the bottom of the extensive garden, a creek flowed. To one side she caught sight of the edge of the pool. She couldn’t imagine anything lovelier.
“I can.” He’d come up to stand beside her.
What? She turned her head, careful to do it slowly. His soft gaze was fixed on her. Recalling her last thoughts, she realised she must have said them aloud again. She had to stop doing that.
He didn’t threaten her space, like other men she’d known. He kept his distance, and his smile was friendly rather than desirous. She trusted him more than men she’d known for years.
That bump on the head must have really got her bad.
Before she could say anything, he left the room, striding quickly downstairs. He returned with her large case.
The case made little noise when he wheeled it in. He propped it against the wall and glanced around before pulling up a Sheraton-style chair and lifting the case to lay across it. “Will it be okay here?”
But she wasn’t watching the chair. She’d watched him lift what she knew was a twenty-three-kilogram bag and lay it down as if it weighed nothing. A lot of strength lurked beneath that suit.
He turned and smiled, his eyes warm. “I’ll bring up your other case and leave you to get settled,” he said. “You don’t have to do anything except rest.”
“I want to get clean,” she said, almost moaning in her desire to strip and wash.
“Okay, take off your clothes down to your underwear, or a swimsuit if you have one. Then let me know.”
“What?”
“You can’t bathe alone tonight. It’s too dangerous. You could pass out. But you could just wash, if you wanted, and bathe tomorrow.”
She longed to get clean, to wash the dirt of the long journey and the hospital off her body. So if she had to do it with him around, then so be it.
“Okay.”
He smiled. She smiled back. Then he left.

Excerpt. ©L.M. Connolly. Posted by arrangement with the publisher. All rights reserved.
 
 

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Meet the Author:

I write. That’s what I do. And I love a happy ending, especially a well-deserved one.
I started writing in the historical romance genre, and I still love writing stories about those characters.

I write contemporary romance, too, about people you might know, or know of. Stories of passionate men and women who care for each other, set in places I’ve visited, like Houston, Florence, Rome and London.

But I branched out into paranormal romance and discovered a new world of Talents-shape-shifters (ever wonder where all those dragons went? They never left!), vampires, Sorcerers (a race of people with very special gifts) and others, as well as humans, who are not underestimated in my stories.

I’ve won awards and competitions, and topped the odd best-selling list, but that’s not why I write. I do it because I’ve always done it, though my career as a market analyst and then as a stay at home mum. I love to write.

I also make and fill doll’s houses, so I suppose I’m all about the worlds of the imagination, and trying to make them real. I live in the UK, but I try to get over to the US when I can, to visit friends and to attend conventions. If I could choose a city to live in, it would probably be Manchester or Paris. I know, strange choices! Or Florence. Or New York. Or all four!
 
Buy Links:

https://amzn.to/2FcXu51
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/colliding-hearts-l-m-connolly/1132833805?ean=2940161521847
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