The
Perfect Shoot (Hot Model Mine 1) by Lea Bronsen
Who hasn’t been
infatuated with a sexy poster boy – actor, pop star, or football hero – even
though he was unobtainable? The heroine in my Hot Model Mine series is a
thriving author and hard-working mother nearing her forties. Tough,
independent, and having long ago lost faith in love, she dismisses her crush on
the cover model of her book to protect herself. What then can she do when that gorgeous
young man surprisingly falls for her, too?
I hope you enjoy this tale
of ‘impossible’ love, dead-honest and written with my heart.
BLURB:
When Andrea Johnson, writing as
author Cindy Vega, signed up for a Meet & Greet with the cover
model of her latest book, she didn’t expect sparks to fly. Yushka
is dangerously good-looking and too young for her. But their
connection is instantaneous, and during a photo shoot with the two, the
photographer picks up on their growing attraction. Seeing the potential
for the cover photo of the century, he decides to push their
comfort limits...
EXCERPT:
An assistant calls Yushka’s name.
Bare-chested, the Asian hunk appears from a group of models, strolls to the
spotlights, and waits in front of the camera with the confident stance of a
professional.
The whole place quiets as if in awe.
He’s unbelievably beautiful with his tanned, bulging muscles and
washboard-abs-to-die-for. When photographer Lemaître asks him to undo his hair,
a black waterfall lands on his shoulders and down his back. A few muffled
feminine squeals fill the silence.
One by one, authors whose books he
appears on get a few pictures taken with him in flattering positions, wrapping
their arms around his back or swallowed up in his embrace, beaming like
schoolgirls at their first prom.
Jealousy rips through me so
violently I can barely breathe, but my time is up soon, and I hate that even
more. I’m non-photogenic, and seeing pictures of myself makes me sick. I’ve
chosen a sexy, black top and matching short skirt for the occasion, but looking
my best doesn’t help. My stomach ties in a knot.
“Cindy Vega,” an assistant calls.
Fuck, that’s me. I’m dead.
“Go,” Laurie says, giving me a small
push.
All muscles tense, I leave my safe
corner and join Yushka. He greets me with a placid face, but from the warmth in
his pupils, I get a feeling he’s glad to see me. Side by side, narrowing our
eyes from the piercing light, we face Lemaître and wait for orders.
Damn. Being so near Yushka’s naked
torso is unbearable, as is the heat from the lamps shining on us. Sweat beads
roll down the sides of my chest, between my breasts. He endures, too. A thin
film of sweat coats his golden skin, making it glow, but he doesn’t seem
bothered.
Lemaître clears his throat. “Bon. Stand a little closer. Cindy, this
is for Eden Luna Publishing’s website. Officially, we want authors happily
meeting their cover models, but off the record, we want sensual, we want heat.
Readers will get off seeing your pictures like they do reading your books.”
Stiff as a rod, I nod agreement. I’d
half expected this. Problem is, I hate being in the spotlight with so many
people watching, and I hate the notion of having my photo all over the
internet.
“Sooo,” he continues, “I will ask
you to just stand like this, facing me, and smile. That is all. Yushka knows
what he has to do.”
“Okay.”
Turning to my side, Yushka puts a
hot hand on my stomach and the other on the small of my back. Though light, his
touches destabilize me, as does the warm, musky scent sneaking to my nostrils.
“Closer,” Lemaître orders. “Bodily
contact.”
Shit, I’m fucked.
The stud radiates heat as he
approaches, sweaty chest sticking to my arm, heart beating against my skin. His
crotch barely brushes my hip, but each pore in my body becomes acutely aware of
him, on high alert. As last night’s intense arousal replays in all of me, my
inner thighs clench with renewed want.
Whispers and low chuckles sound from
both sides of the vast lobby. I try to forget the hundred eyes following my
every move, but can’t help being distracted, bathed in full light and painfully
self-conscious.
“That is better.” Like a shooting
gun, Lemaître’s camera clicks and the flash blinds me repetitively. “Now, give
him a smile, Cindy. You know the kind I want.”
My throat so dry I can’t speak, I
turn to Yushka.
He’s very near, inches from my face,
black pupils gleaming with mischief. Sweat pearls on his face, making him look
sexier than ever. Long, black hairs glue to his forehead and cheeks. He smells
of soap, his close shave making him look baby-faced.
Seemingly at ease, the heaving of
his chest regular, he stares into my eyes. I can’t believe his confidence.
Modelling is his profession, but how does he stay so fucking calm?
“You wanna give me a smile?” he
whispers, warm breaths brushing my chin. Behind me, his large hand sneaks lower
and palms my butt cheek. With that and his other fingers splaying on my
stomach, he pulls me to him, making me feel the entire length and…hardness…of
his cock on my hip.
I suck in a breath.
His lips curl up in a self-satisfied
grin. “Hm, Andrea? You wanna give me
a smile?”
Oh my fucking God. I can’t help but
obey while my insides go up in flames.
Flashing his teeth, he kneads my ass
with a strong hand and pushes his full erection against me. He knows what he’s
doing, the devil. He knows slowly rubbing me with his cock turns my pussy to
burning liquid.
Somewhere, a feminine gasp breaks
the silence, followed by contained laughter.
“Très
bien, we have a smile,” Lemaître says, camera clicking, flash shooting.
“Thank you, Cindy, that will be enough. Next!”
Still grinning and holding my look,
Yushka slowly backs off, leaving chillier air between us.
I’m frozen. In shock, lust, need.
“Come on, move it!” Lemaître calls.
“We don’t have all day.”
No shit.
BUY LINKS:
ABOUT LEA
BRONSEN:
I like my reads fast, hot, and edgy,
and strive to give my own stories the same intensity. After venturing into
dirty inner-city crime drama with my debut novel Wild Hearted, I divide my
writing time between psychological thriller, erotic contemporary romance, and
dripping erotica.
Thank you so much for hosting me on your blog, Elodie!
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