Jeanette Murray

“His smile was slow to spread over his face. As it grew, something warm slid through her belly, warming her from the inside like a pumpkin spice latte on a cool fall night.
Red alert. That’s a ten-forty-two. Charming jock in progress, proceed with caution.
He took her hand in his, shook it once, then let go. Very proper, very simple. And it would have stayed that way had she not looked him in the eye and seen it.
Hunger, as clear as if he were a starving man looking at a T-bone.
And that was the T-bone’s cue to make for the hills.”

Jeanette Murray, The Game of Love
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The Game of Love The Game of Love by Jeanette Murray
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