No author writes alone. It takes interaction with other writers, readers, critique partners, and friends to keep you going. Without each and every one of you, I would have given up long ago. Thank you.
Caramia Kensington glanced around the lush hotel room and let out a sigh that was one part satisfaction and two parts jealousy. Satisfaction in a job well done. Jealousy that the only thing she’d get out of it was a paycheck.
She’d created a seduction scene fit for a king, a sheik, or, in this case, the heir to a banking fortune. The room glowed with the flickering light of a hundred small candles, pulsed with the low background of sensual music, heavy on the bass as requested, enticed with the heady aroma of ylang-ylang and rose. As Cara checked last minute details to ensure everything was perfect, she wished once again that she could be on the receiving end of such decadent attention. Then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and laughed.