About The Book:
Title: Love Me Later
Series: The Second Chance Series #1
Author: Libby Rice
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 14, 2014
Scarlet Leore enjoys a glittering existence amongst society’s elite. Ethan Blake is a prizefighter knocking his way through school, counting on his winnings to bankroll the dreams that won’t fit in a boxing ring. When the two meet, neither can deny the instant attraction that wells between the hulking fighter and the heiress who is miles and millions out of his league. But a vicious attack leaves Scarlet physically and emotionally battered, and for Ethan, her allure crumbles along with the rest of his life after she accuses him of wielding the knife.Years later, Scarlet has abandoned the high life for that of a hard-working lawyer, while Ethan has clawed his way to the pinnacle of a business empire. Drawn into his world of high-stakes tech mergers, they dance to a tune of revenge, desire, and finally, redemption. But their world won’t tolerate an attorney falling for her client. They’ll need more than lust and forgiveness. They must bridge the chasm of a tormented past to understand who they are today. Only then can they forge a future in the face of the resurging enemy who once tore them apart.
Excerpt:
Ethan’s hand slipped to Scarlet’s neck, and she inched away. Sober again, her face had lost its dreamy tranquility. “Here’s the interesting thing, Ethan. I don’t owe you or anyone else a play-by-play of my checkbook balance. Contrary to what you obviously believe, I don’t owe you anything.”
He let a slow smile spread across his face. “A pity, that.” A rush of pride at her defensive posturing swirled into the potent desire he’d stopped denying.
Mute, she blinked at him, chewing almost violently at her lower lip until he brought his fingertips to her mouth. “Don’t.” His emotions yo-yoed. One minute, he welcomed her worry. The next, he couldn’t bear to witness it.
Jerking away from his seeking fingers, she burst out, “No.” Her eyes widened in shock before she added, “I’m not for you.”
“Really?” he asked silkily. “Then who are you for?”
He didn’t think she’d answer. But after a second, a reply too raw to be fabricated slipped out. “Maybe no one.”
Her honesty stripped his defenses. “I disagree. You’re too…” Beautiful, alive, real. “You can have anyone.”
“Except Ethan Blake.”
“Especially Ethan Blake.” Or at least parts of him.
She turned away without another word, her petite form huddling under her lap blanket, curling into the seat toward the window. The posture showcased her slender neck and a few pale tendrils that had escaped her updo to curl invitingly against her flesh.
Grinding his teeth in frustration, he fought to kick-start lungs that refused to function properly. The tension inside him grew to an excruciating pitch until his breathing tripped, and he barely resisted the urge to drag her to him.
Then his willpower gave him a big “fuck you.” He shoved his laptop beneath the seat, stowed his tray table, and reached for her. “Scarlet, let me—”
“Leave it.” The words were harsh, signifying an end to his inquisition, whether he liked it or not. “I told you—”
“Hush.” He dragged a hand from the nape of her neck, down her spine, and up again. “Shh.” He kept stroking, occasionally switching to knead the tension from her slim neck and shoulders until he felt her relax into the seat. Anticipation leapt in his chest when she accepted his touch. Leaning in, he placed a lush, closed-mouth kiss against her nape, her delicious floral scent coiling in the back of his brain.
Purposefully avoiding anything threatening or overtly sexual—for now—Ethan used his hands and mouth to first relax and then to gradually arouse, saying nothing for long minutes as he continued the gentle massage. Finally, her body went lax in his arms, and he traced the shell of her delicate ear with his tongue, marveling at his first taste of her skin.
It was like he remembered. One feel, and he would do anything, forgive anything, for another.
“Can I touch you?” He prayed for a yes, doubting his ability to tame the need that steamrolled in through his fingertips.
“You are touching me,” she answered, her voice husky but uncertain as she flattened her hands over the window shade. The motion caused her to rock back into his arms as though she were unsure as to why she responded to him the way she did, but was really interested in finding out.
He arched into her, silently pleading for her to take more from him. “Scarlet? Can I make you feel good?” Use my body to pleasure yours?
He let a slow smile spread across his face. “A pity, that.” A rush of pride at her defensive posturing swirled into the potent desire he’d stopped denying.
Mute, she blinked at him, chewing almost violently at her lower lip until he brought his fingertips to her mouth. “Don’t.” His emotions yo-yoed. One minute, he welcomed her worry. The next, he couldn’t bear to witness it.
Jerking away from his seeking fingers, she burst out, “No.” Her eyes widened in shock before she added, “I’m not for you.”
“Really?” he asked silkily. “Then who are you for?”
He didn’t think she’d answer. But after a second, a reply too raw to be fabricated slipped out. “Maybe no one.”
Her honesty stripped his defenses. “I disagree. You’re too…” Beautiful, alive, real. “You can have anyone.”
“Except Ethan Blake.”
“Especially Ethan Blake.” Or at least parts of him.
She turned away without another word, her petite form huddling under her lap blanket, curling into the seat toward the window. The posture showcased her slender neck and a few pale tendrils that had escaped her updo to curl invitingly against her flesh.
Grinding his teeth in frustration, he fought to kick-start lungs that refused to function properly. The tension inside him grew to an excruciating pitch until his breathing tripped, and he barely resisted the urge to drag her to him.
Then his willpower gave him a big “fuck you.” He shoved his laptop beneath the seat, stowed his tray table, and reached for her. “Scarlet, let me—”
“Leave it.” The words were harsh, signifying an end to his inquisition, whether he liked it or not. “I told you—”
“Hush.” He dragged a hand from the nape of her neck, down her spine, and up again. “Shh.” He kept stroking, occasionally switching to knead the tension from her slim neck and shoulders until he felt her relax into the seat. Anticipation leapt in his chest when she accepted his touch. Leaning in, he placed a lush, closed-mouth kiss against her nape, her delicious floral scent coiling in the back of his brain.
Purposefully avoiding anything threatening or overtly sexual—for now—Ethan used his hands and mouth to first relax and then to gradually arouse, saying nothing for long minutes as he continued the gentle massage. Finally, her body went lax in his arms, and he traced the shell of her delicate ear with his tongue, marveling at his first taste of her skin.
It was like he remembered. One feel, and he would do anything, forgive anything, for another.
“Can I touch you?” He prayed for a yes, doubting his ability to tame the need that steamrolled in through his fingertips.
“You are touching me,” she answered, her voice husky but uncertain as she flattened her hands over the window shade. The motion caused her to rock back into his arms as though she were unsure as to why she responded to him the way she did, but was really interested in finding out.
He arched into her, silently pleading for her to take more from him. “Scarlet? Can I make you feel good?” Use my body to pleasure yours?
About The Author:
Before becoming a writer, Libby was first a mechanical engineer in the data acquisition industry (voltmeter anyone?). Preferring writing to technical design, Libby headed to law school and eventually practiced patent law for several enterprising years (patent application covering a voltmeter anyone?). Finally realizing that technology just wasn’t her bag, she traded the voltmeters for alpha heroes and the women who love them.Today, Libby writes contemporary romances from the foot of the Rocky Mountains, where she lives with her husband, a bona fide rocket scientist (he stuck with the voltmeters!). When not writing, Libby loves good food, even better wine, and traveling the world in search of the next great story.
Libby loves hearing from readers! Join the fun at www.libbyrice.com, where you can sign up for Libby’s new-release e-newsletter, or on Facebook, Twitter, and/or Instagram.
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