Seven Dirty Words by Charlotte Howard (@shy_tiger) #erotica #romance
Paige Holmes hides herself in a masculine world in a desperate attempt to remain safe.
Just as she is ready to face her fears and her past, she finds herself torn between Matt Jackson and Vance Ellery: handsome, rich, and safe – or handsome, rich, and dangerous?
Which will she choose?
The one who appears to be the most perfect, or the one who makes her use all Seven Dirty Words?
Tirgearr Publishing: http://tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Howard_Charlotte/seven-dirty-words.htm
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1ExJtUx
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1dy702q
I died for a short while the first time we met. There was no fluttering in my chest, no somersault of my stomach, no burning in my loins; my heart literally stopped. He was tall, at least six foot four, and dressed in a pair of worn indigo jeans that perfectly matched his intense stare. A silk black shirt covered what I imagined to be a ripple of hard muscle, and opened at the top showing a dusting of tight dark curls. His thick neck led towards a razor-sharp, square jaw line, a straight nose that had clearly never seen the ill-effects of rough play, and deep hooded eyes. His hair had been styled with a slight wave. I was sure it was dark brown, but it could have easily been black, and had shots of silver-grey streaking through it.
My face was lined up with his toes, or more precisely, his pristinely polished black patent Chukka boots. Palms down in the thick mud beneath me, I pushed up and sneaked a glance at the man in front of me. He looked none-too-pleased to see his clothes spattered with flecks of dirt from where I had landed and splashed him.
A couple of hours later, I woke to the sound of male voices chatting and laughing in the room below mine. I stood carefully, straining to hear the topic of conversation. I caught the words “money”, “sport” and “pavilion,” and knew instantly that TDS was in my childhood home.
Suddenly, I yearned to see him again. But, glancing in the full-length mirror by the door that led to my en suite bathroom, I saw that I was in no fit state to be speaking to handsome older men.
Dishevelled was an understatement. My hair resembled a bird’s nest, my eyes had purple rings underneath them, and the stench of sweat and sickness leaked from my pores.
I dragged myself to the bathroom, switching on the shower and letting the water run until it was almost scalding. My body trembled with a cold that only I felt. A hot shower was desperately needed. Before long, clouds of steam billowed over the top of the glass doors, informing me that it was time to cleanse away the illness that stuck to me like goosegrass.
British author, Charlotte Howard, was born in Oman and spent much of the first part of her life flitting between Oman, Scotland, and England. Now settled in Somerset, Charlotte lives with her husband, two children, and growing menagerie of pets.
Her career as a writer began at an early age, with a poem being featured in an anthology for the East Midlands. Since then Charlotte has written many short stories and poems, and finally wrote her first full-length piece of fiction in 2010.
During what little spare time she has, Charlotte enjoys reading and writing (of course), spending time with her family, and watching action movies whilst eating curry and drinking tea.
Charlotte is an active member of Yeovil Creative Writers Group.