Alone with Navarre, Marissa studied the man who’d become a part of her life in such an abrupt and magical way.

He lay on his back, unmoving, yet still loomed so vibrant and large in the small room that he made her feel as if he were in a battle stance with his sword raised to strike a blow against the darkness she had known all of her life.

His hair, black and thick, hung to his shoulders and gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the window. It reminded her of the wolf’s sleek coat. His features weren’t what she would call beautiful. His strong brow, hooked nose, and square jaw were too sharply angled and almost predatory for beauty. But they were majestic and…dangerous, she thought, finally settling on two words that fit him well.

The thick-chained, golden bronze amulet he wore hung in the center of a sculpted chest, sprinkled with dark, silky hair. She knew the feel of it, the warmth of him. She tingled from her head to her toes, remembering yesterday, he cheek and palms against the supple heat of his firm body. Drawing a deep breath, she squeezed her hands together to keep them still.

Now that you have read the description let’s have a little fun with my fictional heroes. The lucky ladies who have read the stories might have a bit of an advantage because they have a good idea what my heroes look like…everywhere. For those who haven’t read the stories, don’t worry, just imagine what the rest of my hero looks like.

Here’s the challenge. You’ve just inherited your long lost relative’s business in Hollywood. This book is being made into a movie. Below are the actors you have to choose from to be the hero of this story. Which one would you choose and why?
Bon appetit!

The post Navarre as described by Marissa Vasquez appeared first on USA Today Bestselling Author Jennifer St. Giles.

The dynamic alphaness of the man matched Jared’s, except that this man was rougher. The only thing that softened his warrior-sharp features was the black silk of his long hair and the luxuriance of his water-spiked lashes. Dark-coffee eyes flashed with irritation and confusion above a nose that, though perfectly straight, seemed so bent with badass attitude, you’d swear it had to have been broken in a fight or two. His full mouth and the knock-‘em-dead cleft in his chin were set too grim to ever be sensual, but that didn’t stop the stomach-clenching tough of feeling his lips on her.

Now that you have read the description let’s have a little fun with my fictional heroes. The lucky ladies who have read the stories might have a bit of an advantage because they have a good idea what my heroes look like…everywhere. For those who haven’t read the stories, don’t worry, just imagine what the rest of my hero looks like.

Here’s the challenge. You’ve just inherited your long lost relative’s business in Hollywood. This book is being made into a movie. Below are the actors you have to choose from to be the hero of this story. Which one would you choose and why?

Bon appetit!

The post Aragon as described by Annette Batista appeared first on USA Today Bestselling Author Jennifer St. Giles.

Lightning briefly illuminated the strong curve of his stubble-rough jaw, devilish smile, and raven’s wing hair whipping in the wind. Damn, the man had no right to look so sexy in the middle of hell. He stripped off his black leather jacket, pushed her umbrella aside, and leaned in close.

“You bait a nice hook, sugar.”

“You. You Peeping Tom!” Her search for something sophisticated and deadly to say fizzled as ridiculous.

“Careful. You’re giving me ideas for a new profession.”

She didn’t have a chance to reply before his leather jacket descended over her head and his strong arm encircled her.

“Tell me how sorry I am later, sugar.” He plucked the inverted umbrella from her, popped it back right, and held it before them as he propelled them toward the back door of the yacht club, not the least daunted by the storm’s fury. But then, Nan didn’t think much got past Jackson’s thick wall. She gritted her teeth, irritated. Both the timing of Jackson’s appearance and the man were too welcome for her peace of mind.

She tingled from the heat of his arm about her, the feel of his lean, hard body next to her, and the tangy scent of musk and leather enveloping her.

“Here we go.” He hustled her into a lit hallway.

Anxious to rid herself of his scent, she slid off his coat. Cool air assaulted, making her too aware of the heat from his body behind her, touching her, like he’d said on the phone.

Can’t you feel me? I’m right up against you. Feel the heat? My hands on you… my mouth.

She shivered. The creamy watered silk walls, crown molding, and plush carpet contrasted sharply with her soggy, bedraggled state and she turned to face him, feeling like a swamp rat. He’d moved closer and her chest landed smack up against his hot, very male one.

“Where are we?” Drawing back, she teetered, dropping his coat.

“Backstage of the ballroom and just where we need to be.” He grinned and settled his hands on her hips. When he spoke, his deep voice rumbled right to her core and set off a series of delicious quakes. “It’s been a while, sugar. A long while. You hung up too soon last week. We didn’t get to the good part.”

Nan tried to stop the quakes of desire from spreading by clenching her stomach muscles. It didn’t help. Jackson let his shoulders rest on the door behind him and drew her between his jeans-clad, booted legs. She didn’t have to look to know how his jeans fit or how his leather boots gleamed. Not a thing about his dark Irish looks and southern bad boy manners had changed.

“Yes, a long while,” she whispered past the lump in her throat. A droplet of water ran down her cheek, dripped onto her breastbone, and slithered between her breasts. Jackson’s gaze followed its path, heated, then lingered. Nan looked down. Her halter-top gown lay plastered to her body like skin, the wet silk clearly defining the rise of her breasts and nipples. Something about her dress, besides the wet, was off, but the hot missiles firing at her erogenous zones scrambled her brain cells and she couldn’t figure it out.

She slammed her eyes shut. Surely, this had to be another one of her fantasies. Any minute she would wake up and find herself alone, writing in her secret black book.

“Way too long,” he growled, sliding his hands from her hips to cup the fullness of her bottom. Nan opened her eyes to the pure sexual intensity in his. Nope, not a fantasy. He was as potent, and as real as it got. He wanted her and she wanted him. Not a problem.

The problem was what came after the bedroom. She wasn’t about to get involved with a man going nowhere. He lived his life by whim; she lived hers by a plan. She had goals; she was going somewhere in life and he wasn’t budging from the comfortable hole he’d dug.

Any second he would kiss her. Desire sizzled up her spine and overrode rational thought. One more kiss wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Now that you have read the description let’s have a little fun with my fictional heroes. The lucky ladies who have read the stories might have a bit of an advantage because they have a good idea what my heroes look like…everywhere. For those who haven’t read the stories, don’t worry, just imagine what the rest of my hero looks like.

Here’s the challenge. You’ve just inherited your long lost relative’s business in Hollywood. This book is being made into a movie. Below are the actors you have to choose from to be the hero of this story. Which one would you choose and why?
Bon appetit!

The post Jackson Weldon as described by Nan Miller appeared first on USA Today Bestselling Author Jennifer St. Giles.

The sound of heavy booted feet striding closer preceded a deep polished voice. “Is there a problem, Dobbs?”

The tone and verve of the unknown man’s voice vibrated in the air and ruffled my already quaking insides. The sensation intensified when a towering man appeared at the door behind the butler.

I almost stepped back. The man appeared as tall and broad as the massive doorway itself. His dark hair gleamed in the sunlight like the rich, deep hues of the polished wood behind him. A distinctive brow and Roman nose topped a freshly shaven jaw that could conquer an empire with its determination. He was dressed in dark trousers and a white shirt. His hair lay damp upon his brow as if he’d just bathed and he smelled pleasantly of sandalwood. I breathed in, luxuriating in the scent before I could stop myself. The aroma proved most distracting.

Dobbs cleared his throat with a self-righteous flair. “I was just telling the woman that you were looking for a male tutor for Masters Robert and Justin, Sir. Not a governess.”

Blinking, I attempted to refocus my thoughts. I lifted my gaze. The man had to be Benedict Trevelyan; his gaze, black as a moonless night in its darkest hours, probed mine. This time I had to crane my neck back, an unusual movement for me. I could easily cast him as one of the winged demons carved on the door behind him. His eyes were so dark a woman would never be able to see through to his soul, and I pitied the maiden he would chase. No mercy lurked in his measuring gaze.

Now that you have read the description let’s have a little fun with my fictional heroes. The lucky ladies who have read the stories might have a bit of an advantage because they have a good idea what my heroes look like…everywhere. For those who haven’t read the stories, don’t worry, just imagine what the rest of my hero looks like.

Here’s the challenge. You’ve just inherited your long lost relative’s business in Hollywood. This book is being made into a movie. Below are the actors you have to choose from to be the hero of this story. Which one would you choose and why?

Bon appetit!

The post Benedict Trevelyan as described by Ann Lovell appeared first on USA Today Bestselling Author Jennifer St. Giles.