Thursday, April 9, 2015

Cover Reveal: Loving Dallas by Caisey Quinn





Every dream comes with a price…
Dallas
********
Sacrifice.
I’m familiar with it.
I've had to leave behind everyone I cared about—my sister, my best friend, my band, and my high school sweetheart—in order to chase my dream of making it in Nashville.
But when Robyn Breeland walks back into my life, it’s as if the universe has decided to give me a second chance. I’m just not sure it’s one I’m willing to take.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Robyn
********
Heartbreak.
I practically majored in it.
Dallas Lark was the first boy I ever loved and the one who'd shattered my heart into pieces. But I’ve moved on. Working in promotions at Midnight Bay Bourbon, I’m too busy to sit around moping over my ex. But when my company decides to sponsor his tour, I’ll have to face him whether I’m ready to or not. Dallas is determined to drive me to distraction, and my body begs me to let him.
Trouble is, my heart can’t tell the difference between a second chance and making the same mistake twice.


EXCERPT
“You taste like maple syrup. I’m never going to be able to look at pancakes the same way again.” 

Dallas’s tongue tangles with mine and I can’t get enough. We’re spiraling quickly out of control. I need to breathe before I pass out.
“Dallas,” I mumble against his mouth. “We shouldn’t do this. Not here.”
The driver can hear us, could glance in the rearview and get an eyeful.
“It’s a ten-minute drive to the hotel. I’m probably going to spontaneously combust before then.” I laugh against his lips. “You’re a big boy. I think you can handle it.”
I slide off his lap, leaving my legs draped over it, though, and lean my head on his shoulder.
“I can’t wait to show you just how big of a boy I am, and how well I can handle it.”
“Behave yourself,” I whisper in the darkness.
“Can’t,” is all he says, sliding his warm fingers beneath my skirt and between my thighs.

“Dallas.” I squirm as he dips beneath my panties.
“I haven’t forgotten, baby,” he murmurs against my hair. “I remember exactly how tight and hot and wet you are. I remember each and every place you like me to touch you. I am a dying man waiting to hear those sweet whimpers you make when I slide inside you.”

I whimper right then, because damn. He feels so good, smells so good, tastes so good. He’s familiar but at the same time, new, differ- ent from what I remember. Rougher around the edges, broader, and behaving more boldly than he ever has with me.
The boy version from my memories was sweet, polite, and some- what distant. The grown-up version of Dallas Walker Lark is all hard edges, and intensity—sin wrapped in sugar sprinkled with lust. And I want to savor every single bite. 


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