This Christmas, forbidden passion is sparking a fire… and MAKING HER MELT.
1. The Trail of Lights is a real annual event in Austin's Zilker Park. More than a million lights can be seen along the mile-long trail.
2. Despite being a very dog-friendly city, Ethan's dog Oreo would not be allowed into the Trail of Lights. Luckily his world is totally fictional so Oreo gets free admission
3. MAKING HER MELT begins in Austin, where both Lia and Ethan live. But then *cough cough* heated and awkward things happen which result in Ethan spending Christmas in his uncle's vacant cabin. Which happens to be... in Dearling, Texas!
4. Yes! MAKING HER MELT is set in the same world as CHANCE OF RAIN, for those of you who've read my Carina Press contemporary romance. Natalie makes an appearance, as does Joe the Sheriff. As you might expect, there's pie... sexy, metaphorical pie.
5. When Shari Slade beta read this story for me, she said it had the most realistic threesome she'd ever read. I'll let you find out what that means
Too early to sleep, but too late to go anywhere. Especially in this weather. Ethan stretched out in bed, the sheets cool and rough. This time was the in-between, the hazy middle ground when his defenses lowered enough to admit what he wanted—or who he wanted.
“Pathetic,” he muttered.
Better to admit the truth, if only to himself. Then maybe he’d finally pick himself up, move to his hometown, and somehow manage to forget her.
Even though years overseas hadn’t made him forget. He was pretty sure leaving town wouldn’t make him forget his best friend’s girlfriend either. But at least he wouldn’t have to watch them, happy together, smiling, laughing, kissing, while his gut clenched in a tight knot of jealousy and shame.
At least he’d be in the countryside, able to breathe again.
Able to breathe without the constant erection he had around her. It was getting harder to hide it. He’d jerk off before seeing her, but that only seemed to make it worse. Because every time he stroked himself, every time he came, gasping, her face flashed through his mind. Then he’d see her in real life, and his body would charge up, ready to make fantasy a reality.
And—oh great—now he was hard again. Alone. In bed.
There was only one thing to do about that, but he wasn’t going to think about Lia this time. It wasn’t respectful to her, wasn’t respectful to his best friend. Fuck, it wasn’t even respectful to himself. He could jerk without thinking of her, couldn’t he? God, he hoped so.
Porn, that was the answer.
He flipped on his phone until he found a site full of beautiful, naked women. Nameless. Faceless. Not Lia’s name. Not her face. Just breasts and hips, just bare skin he could imagine against his. He scrolled down the page—and then stopped. This woman had dark skin—a little darker than Lia’s but it still made him think of her. Lia’s breasts would be smaller, but he could look and imagine. He could touch himself and pretend it was Lia’s hand instead…
No. Stop thinking about her.
He forced himself to keep scrolling until he had a different woman, one with pale skin and fine red hair. She looked at the camera with a sultry expression, a wanting expression, unlike Lia in every way, because damn sure he’d never seen her look at him that way. That expression was for Chris. This… this was for Ethan—a glossy picture of a stranger, cold and emotionless, and his own hand, pulling too hard and too fast, making it hurt. It was all he deserved, and he made himself face the reality of it, the coolness of the sheets against his skin—not a warm body. The emptiness of this room, of his apartment.
The loneliness of it.
And it worked, somehow. Because he was that hard up, that hungry, and his balls drew up tight. Hot pressure raced down his spine, two seconds from coming, on the razor’s edge, something like pain in his cock, fist tightening. His phone bzzzed in his hand, making him flinch, holding him in that sharp moment, almost coming but not yet, and then the image on his screen flipped from the nameless woman to a woman he knew very well.
Lia. He groaned, helpless and pained.
Her eyes were sparkling, because he’d made some stupid joke, and her smile had been so bright he ached with it, and he’d snapped the picture right in that moment and set it on his phone so that whenever she called—
Oh God, she was calling. And he was coming, unable to wait a second a longer, especially when he was looking at the woman he really wanted, the only woman he wanted. His cock pulsed and spurted and spilled hot come down his hand like lava. The air sucked out of the room like it did every time she smiled or talked to him or motherfucking called him while he was masturbating, and he was panting, eyes closed, trying to calm down already. And most of all, trying to pretend like she hadn’t just made him climax when he pressed the Answer button.
“Hey.”
“Pathetic,” he muttered.
Better to admit the truth, if only to himself. Then maybe he’d finally pick himself up, move to his hometown, and somehow manage to forget her.
Even though years overseas hadn’t made him forget. He was pretty sure leaving town wouldn’t make him forget his best friend’s girlfriend either. But at least he wouldn’t have to watch them, happy together, smiling, laughing, kissing, while his gut clenched in a tight knot of jealousy and shame.
At least he’d be in the countryside, able to breathe again.
Able to breathe without the constant erection he had around her. It was getting harder to hide it. He’d jerk off before seeing her, but that only seemed to make it worse. Because every time he stroked himself, every time he came, gasping, her face flashed through his mind. Then he’d see her in real life, and his body would charge up, ready to make fantasy a reality.
And—oh great—now he was hard again. Alone. In bed.
There was only one thing to do about that, but he wasn’t going to think about Lia this time. It wasn’t respectful to her, wasn’t respectful to his best friend. Fuck, it wasn’t even respectful to himself. He could jerk without thinking of her, couldn’t he? God, he hoped so.
Porn, that was the answer.
He flipped on his phone until he found a site full of beautiful, naked women. Nameless. Faceless. Not Lia’s name. Not her face. Just breasts and hips, just bare skin he could imagine against his. He scrolled down the page—and then stopped. This woman had dark skin—a little darker than Lia’s but it still made him think of her. Lia’s breasts would be smaller, but he could look and imagine. He could touch himself and pretend it was Lia’s hand instead…
No. Stop thinking about her.
He forced himself to keep scrolling until he had a different woman, one with pale skin and fine red hair. She looked at the camera with a sultry expression, a wanting expression, unlike Lia in every way, because damn sure he’d never seen her look at him that way. That expression was for Chris. This… this was for Ethan—a glossy picture of a stranger, cold and emotionless, and his own hand, pulling too hard and too fast, making it hurt. It was all he deserved, and he made himself face the reality of it, the coolness of the sheets against his skin—not a warm body. The emptiness of this room, of his apartment.
The loneliness of it.
And it worked, somehow. Because he was that hard up, that hungry, and his balls drew up tight. Hot pressure raced down his spine, two seconds from coming, on the razor’s edge, something like pain in his cock, fist tightening. His phone bzzzed in his hand, making him flinch, holding him in that sharp moment, almost coming but not yet, and then the image on his screen flipped from the nameless woman to a woman he knew very well.
Lia. He groaned, helpless and pained.
Her eyes were sparkling, because he’d made some stupid joke, and her smile had been so bright he ached with it, and he’d snapped the picture right in that moment and set it on his phone so that whenever she called—
Oh God, she was calling. And he was coming, unable to wait a second a longer, especially when he was looking at the woman he really wanted, the only woman he wanted. His cock pulsed and spurted and spilled hot come down his hand like lava. The air sucked out of the room like it did every time she smiled or talked to him or motherfucking called him while he was masturbating, and he was panting, eyes closed, trying to calm down already. And most of all, trying to pretend like she hadn’t just made him climax when he pressed the Answer button.
“Hey.”
Amber Lin writes edgy romance with damaged hearts, redemptive love, and a steamy ever after. Her debut novel, Giving It Up, received The Romance Review’s Top Pick, Night Owl Top Pick, and 5 Blue Ribbons from Romance Junkies. RT Book Reviews gave it 4.5 stars, calling it “truly extraordinary.” Since then, she has gone on to write erotic, contemporary, and historical romances.
To stay up to date with upcoming releases, sign up for her newsletter: http://authoramberlin.com/newsletter
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looks interesting
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