Saturday, January 24, 2015

It only took me two years

It only took me two years...yeah, sorry about that, but a long last Tristan's book has arrived, A Dash of Desire.



He wants to tame her…
After losing his wife to her wild ways at a young age, Tristan moved on to follow a higher calling. He finds comfort in helping others and has no intention of inviting drama back into his life. That is, until temptation blows into town.
She wants to corrupt him…
Riley is a foul-mouthed, bad-tempered, and bitter soul. Down on her luck and on the run from another terrible decision, the last thing she needs is a soul-saving hottie pushing his way into her life.
But will they end up destroying each other?
Taming Riley becomes an obsession for Tristan. With his reputation on the line and Riley’s heart on the table, can Tristan find a way to keep both? It only takes a dash of desire to ignite a flame when this savior and sinner collide. But this is one inferno that could end up destroying them both.



Copyright © 2014 Charity Parkerson

Excerpt: All Rights Reserved

His cologne hit her first. Heaven and chocolate.
“Could you use a hand?”
The voice…southern whiskey. Hers refused to work as the full impact of him came into view. Soft blond hair and light blue eyes gave the impression of an angel. Seriously. Riley was certain they sang. On the other hand, the devil chuckled, because his body was made for sin. Six feet of sinewy muscle, reminding her of a runner. Wide shoulders unafraid of hard labor. God. Damn. Obviously mistaking her silence for fear, he stopped a few feet short of her and held the umbrella out for her to take. At this point, it was useless, but Riley still accepted.
“I’m Tristan.” Oh, it so wasn’t right that his name was freaking sexy too, and she looked like a drowned rat at the moment.
She held her hand out. “Riley Henderson,” she said, finally managing to find her voice. Dropping his gaze, Tristan didn’t accept. His eyes darted away. Taking note of the black gunk covering her palm, Riley swiped it down the front of her shirt almost groaning aloud when the black streak appeared in its wake. The dumbass move reminded her of an important fact. Her shirt was white. It was soaked. The headlights on his truck weren’t the only things shining.




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