FREE to Download from Amazon on June 5th & 6th.
He’s smooth. He’s attractive. He’s enticing.
She’s vulnerable. She’s weak. She’s Loving Nate.
Loving Nate is Leah’s story of falling in love with Mr. Perfect. Leah falls fast and hard, losing all sense of reasoning. Love can do that to a gal, especially when the guy is as smooth as Nathan Moore. Loving Nate is about Leah’s journey of falling in love, when she should have been standing in love.
I’ve decided to provide two very different endings to this novella. Have you ever made a decision and wondered whether or not it was the right choice? Or perhaps you made the right choice because you knew that the alternative would’ve been disastrous? This is my gift to readers. Regardless of Leah’s final choice, I wanted readers to be able to reflect on the possibilities.
From what I gather, the prize is unfairly hidden beneath a sunlit blue shirt. My mouth drops open. I inhale a natural aphrodisiac, an aroma of freshly picked mint. Seriously, who can resist? If I wasn’t curious before, oh I am right about now.
My mother always advised that when I meet a man, I should look at three places—his head, his feet and his teeth. A knot forms in my neck, as I slant to the side, making note of polished brown leather loafers. Next, I trace his slender outline upwards. His stature goes on for days. At his sides hang long, and I mean loooong mahogany fingers. These are not meant to be deal breakers as I consider Mom’s warning; but—but they are clearly the hands of a robust owner.
Oh my! I cup my lips as a moan escapes.
“Excuse me? Are you okay?” The effigy comes alive, commandeering my full attention to not only his words, but also his very existence.
Briefcase in one hand, he targets my shoulder with the other.
I instantly sacrifice all strength born from the feminist movement. It’s the kind of reaction you only read about. Shamefully, my knees buckle. You would think that I’ve never stood still in five-inch heels, or strut like Naomi Campbell for that matter.
I’m forced to put an end to my inner ramblings and coax my eyes to the face behind the words. I nearly faint. What the heck happened to my confidence, my self-assurance, even my pride?
What makes matters worse? He sees this all. His brows furrow with worry, though his full lips curl up as if he’s flattered all the same.
“I’m sorry. Please, please forgive me,” I extend, before rushing off towards the elevator. Problem is, I don’t know where it is. So I’m walking in circles amongst a slew of workers who are too caught up in their morning flow. After turning several times, I pause to see Mr. Perfect grinning in my face. My chin is lifted several inches to accommodate his above average height. I’m only about 5’2” – 5’7” in a proper pair of heels, which I happen to be wearing. But this man still towers over me.
“You know, you really should slow down.” He’s teasing now. His voice is too jovial, yet deep—not too deep—but it has the type of depth you’d adore first thing in the morning. It’s the sound that any woman would love to hear utter “good morning, beautiful”, morning breath and all.
I am so shameless.
Curious? Download your copy today from Amazon! It’s FREE on June 5th & 6th.