Title: Beautiful Storm
Author: Megan Isaacs
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: December 7, 2015
SynopsisHe was my salvation. Interviewing the notorious owner of ‘Ignition’ should have been simple. When asked to go home with him, I should’ve said ‘no.’ But Noah Hamilton’s tattooed, hard body and rugged features were impossible to resist. I wanted him to touch me. And I longed to be loved again. I craved the escape and was desperate to know him. Much like his lifestyle, our heated affair took off at warp speed, proving to be stronger than either of us anticipated. Trapped between my past and future, there was only one decision to make. So I ran…
She was my downfall. From the moment Lizzie Ryder stepped into my shop, I wanted her. Had to have her. A reserved journalist with a body of sin and mesmerising eyes was all it took for me to fall. Hard. The night she let me touch her, taste her, I knew I was done for. I never deserved her, but needed to make her mine. She found the heart I never knew I had, brought it to life, and then crushed it to dust. And just like her storm-filled eyes, I drowned in the flood of her desertion. Reaching my breaking point, I struggled to forget the only woman I ever foolishly fell for and dove headfirst into my dark past, barely surviving her.
And now she’s back.
What happens when our weaknesses become our strengths? Do we reveal and fight…or keep our secrets and run? And can we withstand the devastation left after the Beautiful Storm? Due to sexual content, possible triggers, and excessive bad language reader discretion is advised. 18+
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ExcerptI grab my drink and make my way around to the other side of the dance floor. The fight to get there becomes worth it when I find Lizzie still where I spotted her. She’s leant on the railing, which surrounds the dance floor, and her face is turned away from me.
Most people would think she’s watching the dancing, but her chin’s tilted slightly upwards. I follow what I think is her line of sight to find nothing but darkness. Shame I can’t observe her from the front, but I’d guess she’s wearing a thousand-yard stare.
I move in close to her, resting my forearms on the railing, which brings me down to her level. No movement comes from her. She has no idea anyone is next to her at all. Not wanting to scare her, I nudge her with my thigh. Startled, she stands up straighter and turns at the same time, almost losing her footing. Instinctively, I reach out to save her. She stands still, her chest heaving, and slowly lifts her head. The heat in my body increases with every millisecond it takes her to reach my face.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” For a second, the strobe lights graze her face, revealing a pink tinge to her cheeks.
“It’s okay…I’m sorry about earlier.” Her gaze won’t meet mine so I let her wrists go, even though my fingers itch at the loss of contact.
I’m sick of the woman spending more time looking at the floor than at me. I want, no, I need her to look at me. Crooking I crook my forefinger under her chin, and I raise it up so she has no choice. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. We danced. I wanted to kiss you. You didn’t want it.” I let her chin go and shrug my shoulders like I’m not bothered by it, when, if I’m honest, it fucking meant something to me. “No big deal.”
“No. You’re wrong.” Her voice is timid, and hard to hear above the music.
“What do you mean?”
Her gaze flicks south again, and I’ve had about enough. I’m envious of the fucking floor. The thought registers and then I dismiss it.
She seems to bolster herself like she did in our interview. Her shoulders square back, her chest rises with a deep inhale, and then she raises her eyes and her gaze meets mine.
She looks me square in the eye. “I wanted it.” No hesitation. No looking at the floor this time. I’m fucked.
I edge in closer to her, not wanting her to run away again. But I need my mouth on hers, or I’m going to explode.
Her body grazes against mine and my arms instinctively wrap around her, pulling her against me. I know she can feel me when her hips tilt and press in harder. The constant noise from the club fades away, no longer the focus of my attention. I hear nothing but her and her stuttered breaths.
“Now?” I’m asking again. It may be the worst thing I’ve ever done, but I need confirmation from her this is what she wants.
Her eyelids flutter shut and when she opens them, there’s an electric storm in her eyes. Still, I wait, desperate for an answer but unwilling to push for one. I get what I’ve been waiting for. She nods her head , all the while keeping eye contact with me.
I lower my head and she pushes up onto her tiptoes, her mouth hovering over mine. Our breaths are rapid. One hand releases her waist and instead cradles her nape. Unable to wait any longer, I dip down the last inch. I give a gentle tug on her bottom lip and feel her smile against me. She nips mine back and her tongue runs the seam of my lips, they part for her, and swollen lips cover my own.
Terrified of consuming her, I let her take the lead. Our lips join, her tongue flicks into my mouth, dancing with mine in hesitant lashes. The sweet taste of mint mixed with rum dances across my taste buds and I groan into her mouth. Her hands fist into my shirt, demanding more. My heart pounds fierce in my chest and I’m lost in the sensation, in her. Her fingers grasp onto my hair and I lose control, pulling her back a few feet into a dark spot and up against the wall. Lips bruise, teeth clash, and one hand digs into her hips, rocking her against my cock. The other runs the length of her side, grazing my thumb across the soft swell of her tit.
Her leg hitches around my thigh, the motion lifting her dress, revealing more flesh. It’s like a magnet for my hand, as it lets her hip go and wanders down onto the newly exposed skin. All the while, our lips and tongues are entwined. I can’t get enough. I need more. Much more.
Not yet. Not here.
I pull away, utterly breathless, and rest my forehead against hers. Our breaths pant in unison. “Come home with me?”
About The Author
Megan Isaacs lives happily in the UK with her husband and son. If you asked her about herself she would say she's completely crackers. Always the introvert with an extrovert exterior. A complete mash up of improbabilities. She loves her family, but that goes without saying. She loves reading and tea. Lots and lots of tea. She used to be pretty good shot with a shotgun, but hasn't shot since she was five months pregnant when she beat her husband for the one and only time. Hanging up her barrels seemed like a good idea after that.