That’s Entertainment: Book One
Former tabloid TV reporter Samantha Jamison derailed actor Evan Gallagher’s life with a segment on her show. Five years later, she’s switched professions to be behind the camera, and Evan is now the one turning her life inside out when they end up working on the same movie. Not recognizing Samantha, he’s pursuing her; she’s convinced it could never work. Or could it? Through steamy kisses at auditions, filming in remote locations, red carpet disasters, and Hollywood parties with lecherous casting agents, Samantha, Evan, and their “supporting cast” discover that sometimes all you need is a second chance.
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Excerpt from Take Two (longer samples are available at Amazon, Smashwords and Kobo):
Evan draped the jacket over a bench in the front hall. “In case you get chilly later,” he said, and she shivered just from the tone in his voice. He might as well have said, “In case you get naked later.”
He gestured around him at the three wide arched entryways leading off the tiled foyer. “To the left is the master suite, to the right, the kitchen and stairs that go down to a big family room and my office. Down the hall straight ahead are Oliver’s room, a bathroom and a guest bedroom. The living room and dining room are at the end.” Evan put the tips of his fingers lightly against the small of her back, just as he had that day in the gallery, guiding her forward.
Samantha took a step, then remembered it wasn’t supposed to go this far. She was supposed thank him for the invitation, then give him the speech she’d been rehearsing all afternoon. She started to say, “Actually, I wanted to…” but her words drifted off as he slipped around in front of her, cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers. He didn’t go any farther than that, just held her face, the tips of his fingers brushing the delicate skin of her earlobes, and kept his lips there, letting her feel them, taste them, crave more of them.
He pulled back, his warm hands on her, and those intense hazel eyes observing every nuance. His thumbs moved across the tops of her cheekbones and his hands seemed to be the only thing holding her up right now. Otherwise, she’d slide into a puddle at his feet. Those lovely, bare feet.
He leaned close and when he spoke, his breath whispered against her face. “I should apologize, but I wanted to do that all day. I had to get it out of the way so I could have a conversation without wondering what it’d be like to kiss you again.”
She stared up at him, dazed. When he leaned close again, she mentally shook herself. “So, did it help?”
He stopped, his head tilted. “What?”
“Kissing me. Did it help to get it out of the way?”
He reached up and brushed a thumb across the arch of her eyebrow. “No,” he said simply, then slid his fingers along the side of her face and down her arm, where he took hold of her hand and led her forward…