Wednesday, March 25, 2020

Down to Fall by Jodi Watters

Title: Down to Fall
Series: Love Happens #5
Author: Jodi Watters
Genre: Steamy Contemporary Romance

Release Date: March 20, 2020


A lust
story. Only meant to be temporary.
A love
story. Always meant to be permanent.
A hate
story. Never meant to be.
is all three.

It started
in an elevator in California. Our lust story.
You know,
the kind you know going in is a bad idea, but... the nagging desire and all. A
few drinks in the hotel bar across from our workplace. A few nights in a luxury
suite twenty floors above. What could it hurt?
fun would be had by all, and I’d walk away a well-satisfied woman. Ready to
continue my life of brokenhearted loneliness.    

It started
on a ridge in Afghanistan. Our love story.
You know,
the kind you felt in your soul at first sight, but... the tragic circumstances
and all. Intentionally casual conversation over Irish whiskey. Intentionally
casual sex over the course of two weeks. How could I refuse?
bonds would be built, and I’d confess my darkest sin. Beg for forgiveness five
years overdue and clean my conscience along with it.

It started
with the cold hard truth. Our hate story.
You know,
the kind that could end a surprisingly beautiful beginning.

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Ten minutes after he agreed, Nicole found herself standing
inside a deluxe suite at the Hyatt, their tryst beginning in the lap of luxury.
It would end here too, but only after she’d had her fill of
him and/or thirteen days had passed, whichever came first. Based on the way
that gray t-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, and if there were
tattoos and tan lines under it, she’d run out of time before she ran out of
Backing her up against the hotel room door, Grady leaned in
but didn’t touch her, only locking the deadbolt and flipping the security bar,
the sound loud in the hushed darkness of the room.
“You sure about this?” His masculinity surrounded her, warm
and wicked. His height dwarfed her, tall and tantalizing.  
“Yes,” she whispered. “Are you?”
“No,” he choked out, his voice gravelly. “No, I’m not sure.
But there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
They’d never been this close before, but if she’d known his
strength was so powerful, his scent so heady, his size so commanding, she’d
have cornered him weeks ago. Probably humped his camo-panted leg like a dog in
Well, he’d better be ready. She was about to be unleashed.
Which was to say, he’d be on the receiving end of her largely limited—and
significantly rusty—sexual repertoire.
Comparing herself to the animalistic dynamo that was a
female canine in heat was her ego talking. Oh, she could get the job done, no
doubt about it, but Grady might not be so impressed he’d hire her again, if you
caught her drift.
Thirteen days might turn into a one-and-done situation.
But luckily, she’d made that quick drugstore run during her
lunch break yesterday, so she was fully prepared. Condoms, a Lady Bic razor and
shaving gel, and a king-sized Kit Kat bar completed her purchase. The condoms
were a necessity—safety first, ’cause that’s how ole Nicole rolled. The razor
because, between the two of them, he should be the only one with stubble. The
chocolate was simply because she hadn’t had sex in a longer timespan than your
average bad-credit car loan, and that fact would make any girl self-medicate.
Thankfully she’d had the foresight to buy a half dozen candy
bars and wasn’t ashamed to admit she’d powered one down just prior to stalking
him via the elevator tonight.  
Chocolate might give her cellulite, but it also gave her
courage. Courage she desperately needed, because right about now, she was
feeling like a born-again virgin.
Unsure. Unsteady. And unprepared for the sight he was about
to bestow upon her.
Bare, muscled skin.
Their suite was several stories high, the only glow in the
room from the small lamp on the nightstand and that of a thousand twinkling
lights from the surrounding downtown buildings. The panoramic floor to ceiling
windows offered an amazing view, day or night, and though the drapes were drawn
open to the outside world, they were cocooned inside by the soft radiance of a
single bulb.
The only people on earth.
Moving deeper into the room, his eyes barely left hers as he
tugged his t-shirt off, lazily dropping it to the floor.
My god.
There were tattoos. Plural. And in nearly the exact location
of her fantasies.
The letter F was inked over his left pec
muscle, a single initial monogrammed in an Old English decorative script. F for
Foster. Underneath that same glorious pec muscle was a short verse, in a
cleaner, simpler font, that wrapped horizontally around his torso toward his
It was too dark in the room for her to read the words, but
that task was now on the tippy top of her To-Do list.
What she could read was the larger quote tattooed along the
right side of his collar bone. De oppresso liber. To
liberate the oppressed. The motto of the United States Army Special Forces.
Don’t ask her how she knew that. It wasn’t a fun tale to
“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”
Swallowing, she regained the use of language. “That I wanna
lick your tattoos.”
A smartass grin graced his beautifully sculpted mouth.
“Damn. Should’ve tattooed my dick.”
The button on his pants popped, the slide of his zipper
letting loose a hoard of butterflies in her stomach when he opened the placket.
Dark shadows hid his best asset, his intention only to relieve the pressure,
not release the beast. 
He needn’t worry. She wanted to lick that too.

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Author Bio

My love for
steamy romance began when I was in junior high. A friend and I noticed a
dumpster of discarded paperbacks behind our local dime store. Covers missing
and each book split down the spine, I scanned the pages for any love or lust
words—and curse words, too. From that point on, I scoured the public library
and the paperback racks at every store, reading anything labeled romance. I said
a tearfully grateful goodbye to Judy Bloom, and Jackie Collins began ruling my

I live with
my high school sweetheart husband in the desert Southwest. Awesome in the
winter, not so much in the summer.

My life
long goals are to think before I speak, smile more and swear less, and actually
weigh what my driver's license states I do. 

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