Four years ago, Lauren Dane invited a group of authors to host regular snippets on their blog and link to each other. She set up a database and files collecting each other’s information, suggested topics and themes for each week’s posts. We’ve seen members come and go, and some have come back again. It’s been a great way to support each other, and to gain some exposure to potential new fans. But it’s taken a lot of work to maintain, time that could be better spent on writing. A few weeks ago, Lauren made a tough decision but one that was due. I’m sad to announce that Snippet Saturday is coming to an end and today’s posts will be the last shared as part of this group.
I’d like to extend a huge thank you to Lauren and all the other authors who have supported Snippet Saturday and brought new readers to my little blog. I’d also like to thank the readers who regularly check in each Saturday morning. To them, don’t worry, I will still post excerpts, they just won’t be part of the Snippet Saturday group.
For my last Snippet Saturday post, I’m going to share a brand new snippet from my upcoming November release Slow Ride Home.
Copyright © 2013 Leah Braemel
His breath caught in his throat watching her climb off the ATV, her jeans hugging her very fine ass. Her white sleeveless V-neck tee clung to her curves like a second skin, outlining the lace of her bra until it looked like it was part of the cotton pattern. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail, just like she’d worn it back in high school—the sun shone off it, striking gold highlights off the auburn like a halo. While the work boots were practical, he mourned the loss of her fuck-me heels.
“Down boy,” he sternly reminded his libido.
The grizzled old cook reached for a basket fastened to the back. “Hey, boss man. I noticed you missed lunch.” He bobbed his head toward his passenger. “And Ms. O’Keefe here was lookin’ for you, so I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone and bring her out to see you.”
“Thanks.” Ben grabbed the basket while trying—unsuccessfully—not to ogle Allie. “Hey, Butch, Take Cody here back to the main yard, will you? And if you see Dale on the way, have him head up here with a tool kit?”
“Sure thing, boss.”
She waited until Ben had split up the lunch packets with the other hand before she spoke. “I hope you don’t mind me tagging along.”
“As long as you don’t mind me eating while we talk.” He lowered himself to the ground in the shadow and rested his back against the massive wheel.
Her perfume wafted over him as she lowered herself to the patch of grass beside him. Her earrings sparkled in the sunlight, drawing attention to spot where the shell of her ear met the curve of her neck, a place he used to love to nuzzle. Not just because it meant they’d be body-to-body but because it made her giggle, a sound he loved.
Resenting the years they’d lost, he distracted himself by unwrapping the sandwiches. “Looks like there are a couple of ham and cheese, and—you’re in luck, a toasted peanut butter and jelly. They still your favorite?”
He shoved the PB&J toward her unasked then froze when he noticed her blinking rapidly as if she were about to cry. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s just…you remembered I like PB&Js.” She focused on the sandwich instead of him. She unwrapped the sandwich like it contained a gold nugget. Or a gold ring. “Just like you did with all the other food you brought over.”
“It’s just a sandwich.” He took a big bite of his ham and cheese, her comment that she’d realized it was him not Butch who had selected what foods he’d brought over fueling a smug satisfaction deep in his belly.
“Not once in the five years we were married did Lewis remember that I liked peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” She picked up the toasted sandwich and sank her teeth into it.
Ben found himself entranced by the way her lips closed around the bread, the way her tongue darted out to clean off the peanut butter clinging to her lips. Obviously this Lewis was a moron. Or blind.
“Oh my God,” she groaned, “it’s just the right side of gooey. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had one like this?”
“Ages, I’m guessing.” There was no logical reason for him to feel so pleased. It’s not like he’d personally made the sandwich. Or even thought to ask Butch to make her one. But there was no denying how his chest swelled up in pride at her reaction.
She inhaled softly, her full lips forming a soft O, when Ben wiped the corner of her mouth with his thumb.
Shoot. He hadn’t meant to touch her. It had been more instinct. Something he would have done when they were dating. Except you’re not dating her, dumbass.
*HARLEQUIN COVER ART: Cover Art Copyright© 2013 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited permission to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Books S.A. Cover Art used by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises Limited. All rights reserved. © and ™ are trademarks owned by Harlequin Enterprises Limited or its affiliated companies, used under license.
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