Saturday, February 16, 2013

Mikalo's Flame by Syndra K. Shaw Cover Reveal



Book Blurb:
Ronan Grace and her Greek god in grey wool Mikalo Delis. Still happy, still in love, and now living together in New York.

Despite it all.
Despite the lingering secrets of Mikalo's past and his complicated life. Despite Ronan's own doubts and worries, the strength of her love for him both shocking and frightening. Despite the jealousy and spite threatening her once successful career. And despite the unexpected emergence of a drunk, drug-addled viciously vindictive blast from Mikalo's past.

Will Ronan and Mikalo stumble under the weight of all these challenges and doubts and confusion as they move toward creating a life together? Or will they fight, giving their love what it needs to survive.
Despite it all.



Excerpt One:
 At least we made it into the house this time.
While leaving the restaurant, Mikalo had given me "the look".
But instead of his customary boyish smirk, the teasing grin hinting at his growing need for me, this time his eyes were already hooded with lust.
And after all but dashing out of the cab and running down the block to skirt quickly up the stairs, jam the key in the lock and slip inside, the door barely closing behind us, he was on me.
His hands pulling off my coat, his fingers tugging the scarf from my neck, mine ripping his free over his head, wrestling with the buttons of his coat and then the belt buckle around his pants.
He slammed me against the wall, his palms rummaging past my shirt to lie flat against my breasts as we kissed.  Deeply.
I broke free, pulling the fabric over my head, Mikalo dropping to his knees to slip off my shoes and wrestle my pants down my thighs and past my calves, his face quickly pressing close to my warmth.
My fingers in his hair, I ground my hips into him.
He moaned, the vibration of this helpless, desperate sound resonating against the delicate layer of silk.
I pulled him to his feet again, sliding his jeans down, the denim languishing 'round his knees as he kicked his shoes free, my fist immediately wrapping around him.
His tongue in my mouth, he groaned.
I smiled as I bent low, playfully ducking under his arms and, slipping from his grasp, starting up the stairs.
He laughed as he hopped, trapped by the denim, freeing first one leg and then the other before throwing the jeans to the side and taking the stairs two at a time to easily catch me.
And pinning me beneath him, he had smiled, the edge of the stairs cutting into my shoulders, my back, my legs, my calves.
"Is that what you would like, Ronan?" he asked.  "To go free?"
I squirmed, pushing myself against him as his lips met my neck.
He had called me Ronan.  Not "my Grace".
Yeah, this was going to be quite a night.
 



Connect with Syndra K. Shaw

Purchase Links for Mikalo's Grace
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