It was stupid of her to expect that he’d hold back from something he thought he had to do. He wouldn’t be Sam if he did. Nine months ago, she’d driven into Twilight and he’d pulled her over for a traffic warning. She’d never forget it. He’d stepped from his flashing squad car and sauntered her way, oozing power and sex appeal as his honed muscles stretched the seams of his uniform. Her breath came to a screeching halt and her pulse went from sixty to two hundred in one point five seconds. He reached the side of her car, all tall, dark, and foreboding, looking like a god next to her little Mini. He tipped his hat in a show of respect that zinged her insides, but it was the deep rumbling voice saying “Ma’am” that surged a sensual heat through her erogenous zones. He’d swept her away right then and there. She could still feel the tingle to this day.

It had been quite a shock to be so turned on by a total stranger, especially with her daughter sitting in the seat next to her. But that hadn’t been nearly as shocking as seeing his eyes. He’d lowered his mirrored Ray-Bans to pin her with blue eyes so remote and cold that she literally shivered from the frost.

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 Sam Sheridan as described by Emerald Linton appeared first on USA Today Bestselling Author Jennifer St. Giles.

I paused to take in the sweet smell of jasmine mingled with the mouthwatering aroma of Mama Lousia’s creamy red beans, andouille, and fresh bread. Mama Louisa’s cooking could warm the soul of a devil.

“Half light, half shade, She stood, a sight to make an old man young.”

“Mon Dieu!” Startled, I spun around to see who had spoken. A tall man stood beneath the shadows of a twisted live oak just behind me. The deep voice was unfamiliar, cultured, and sensual. I backed away several steps, chastising myself for being so lost in my thoughts that I’d been unaware of his presence.

He stepped into the fading light. Forgive me for frightening you. But those words were made for you.”

“Monsieur, the evening shadows have misled you. There is no comparison between me and Lord Tennyson’s extraordinary verse,” I replied, drawing back another step, this time from his dark appeal. His hair cut a rakish line across his brow, with a few errant strands that beckoned for order. I clenched my hand and moved my gaze on, absorbing the sensual curve of his mouth, the determined angle of his jaw, and the raw power in the breadth of his shoulders. He held up his hands as if to show me he was unarmed, and I thought that were he a footpad, he’d need no weapon. His voice could lure gold from the fist of a miser.”

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 Stephen Trevelyan as described by Juliet Boucheron appeared first on USA Today Bestselling Author Jennifer St. Giles.

Quietly she slipped the chain on and cracked the door open. She was in no mood to be polite. “I’m sorry. I’m not interested in anything you might be selling. There is a no solicitation ordinance in this neighborhood, so I suggest you leave before I call the police.”

“Lauren Collins?” The man faced her and arched an amused brow over his sharply intent green gaze.

Rough didn’t even begin to describe the man’s hard edge, or reveal the almost frightening freshness of the reddened scar on his right temple. His physique and square jaw cut a determined line as did his buzzed black hair and stiff bearing. Military, she thought, immediately reminded of her brother’s demeanor. Her breath caught with hope and trepidation that he was a friend of Jason’s with news.

“I’m Lauren,” she whispered.

“I realize this is a difficult time, but I need to speak with you about your deceased husband, Bill Collins. My name is Jack Hunter. I’m stationed at Fort Bragg.” He slipped a business card into the door crack.

Their fingers touched when she took the card and she practically jerked away from the heat that shot up her arm and flushed her face. The man narrowed his gaze at her, intensifying the green of his eyes. His look was almost suspicious.

She blinked and directed her focus to his card. Sergeant First Class meant the man had about twenty years of experience under his belt. Though he wore jeans and a black polo shirt that hugged well-honed muscle and not an official uniform, his boots were the kind a military man preferred.

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?

The post Jack Hunter as described by Lauren Collins appeared first on USA Today Bestselling Author Jennifer St. Giles.