The Marriage Agenda by Sarah Ballance
Contemporary Romance
Date Published: August 18, 2014
There's a scandal brewing in Washington...
Knox Hamilton wants his father’s recently vacated Senate seat, but the only way his conservative constituents are going to vote for Knox is if he loses his playboy reputation. Which means Knox needs a wife. There’s only one woman with whom he's willing to share his life, but after the way he broke things off with her, will she give him another chance?
Chloe Lochlan's job is on the line. If she doesn't grab a big headline, she'll be ousted from her gig at the major newspaper where she works as a reporter. Knox's offer of marriage chills her to the bone. He already crushed her heart once and she has no intention of letting it happen again. But being with him gives her the kind of access to top tier social events rarely granted to media, access that could land her the story of a lifetime. When the truth she uncovers threatens to destroy the man she still loves, will she bury the story...or his career?
Excerpt
His touch left a trail of gooseflesh over her thighs, her shivers contrasting wildly with the heat nestled against the front of his slacks. A string of profanity grazed his lips where they crept against her skin. More.
He dragged her closer, but the dress bunched around her waist and created a surprisingly formidable barrier for something so damned soft. He tugged and shoved the fabric to no avail, then finally gave up and slipped a finger beneath her panties.
Though he didn’t enter her, the barometric pressure lowered with the force of her gasp. She caught her breath enough to utter a very unladylike oath, and he had every intention of following through on that particular demand.
He withdrew to his knees, gaining an edge of control with the distance. With a laziness that belied the charge of his heart through his chest, he explored her outermost contours with soft, intimate strokes. Little sounds of contentment spilled from her lips, a breathy staccato of demands for more. Clearly, he wasn’t the only victim of this crippling desire.
She was wet and unbelievably hot, and he was an ass. When this was over and the sun pasted a morning-after glare on what they’d done, she’d want to fall in love and charge head over heels for a happily-ever-after that wasn’t on the agenda. Not his anyway. But sex…dammit.
He bit back a groan that had nothing to do with the erection that had probably by now reshaped his zipper. He didn’t have any condoms.
“What’s wrong?” Her breathless words were punctuated by the trace of her nails down his abdomen. Her dress, at this point, was little more than a belt. She hadn’t worn a bra, but she hadn’t needed one. Her breasts—perfect handfuls, each of them—were fully bared and begging for his attention. Her soft, sleek hips gripped him, framing the silken vee of her drenched underwear. He stroked her there, watching desire churn in the oceanic depths of her eyes.
“No condoms,” he muttered, fully sheathed in some sort of Chloe trance. Whatever element she possessed belonged on the krypton block of the periodic table. She vexed him, and he’d have been smart to remember that before he’d gotten close enough for all of his blood to rush south and point her way—simple instructions for a senseless man.
No condoms.
For some reasons, his words incited a riot of blush over her face. She raised a white-tipped nail to her lips. “I…uh…in my bag. You…help yourself.”
Well, hell. Good for her, but she hadn’t planned on spending her evening in his arms. Which meant Chloe was prepared for, well, someone other than him. A man she didn’t know, per her own admission. The news stung but didn’t change the fact she lay there wet and trembling and offering Knox the latex key to her kingdom.
He’d cope.
About the Author
Sarah and her husband of what he calls “many long, long years” live on the mid-Atlantic coast with their six young children, all of whom are perfectly adorable when they’re asleep. She never dreamed of becoming an author, but as a homeschooling mom she often jokes she writes fiction because if she wants anyone to listen to her, she has to make them up. (As it turns out, her characters aren’t much better than the kids.) When not buried under piles of laundry, she may be found adrift in the Atlantic (preferably on a boat) or in search of that ever-elusive perfect writing spot where not even the kids can find her. To learn more about her work in contemporary, historical, and supernatural romance and romantic suspense, please stalk accordingly.
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