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Special Feature – Cora Blu knows how to make you MOAN!

by on August 1, 2013

Hey Peeps,

It’s been a minute and I’m sorry about that.  But I am back and I brought Cora with me. 🙂

I have known Cora Blu for a little over a year and watched this author put out some amazing stories. I was especially taken with her Midnight Moaning Collection. *Whispers* I fell in love with Judge.  Yeah, me and fictional characters. Come on it’s not like y’all don’t know I have an obsession with books. Its quite natural to also fall for certain characters. My favorite in the first and second book happens to be a dog. But that’s all I’m saying. I am anxiously waiting for Book Three and rooting for the hero and heroine big time. So if you haven’t, take a minute and check her collection out. I posted the pretties, brief excerpt and link below. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.

Until Later , Kass




Excerpt ~

“Where am I?”
“My bedroom.” Pushing away from the door, thick carpet masked his steps as he moved closer to the bed.
This time she did leap from the bed to the first open door she found…and threw up.
Large hands stroked over her hair, Kenya shifted against a hard body cradled against her shoulder, and a cool towel pressed to her forehead. “Relax, you’re burning up. Are you taking anything for your illness?”
The room whirled as she fought to free herself, banging her knees against the carpeted floor scrambling to her feet. The wild motion kicked the edge of the t-shirt high around her thighs and
she fought to keep it down, but the heat from the floor vent blew across her panties and the heat tickled her making her squirm in his arms, making him grin. His arms locked under her breasts, scrunching the t-shirt higher exposing her thighs. Her bare legs dangling like a rag doll over the floor.
“Okay, we’re not gonna do that again,” he warned, a measure of annoyance in his graveled tone. “I won’t hurt you…stop fighting before you throw up again.”
Queasy, from the mere mention of the word, she stopped squirming. Although grateful he’d sat down, she stayed cautious perched on his lap on the bed.
“Who are you?” She licked her lips. The sour taste in her mouth hit her nose. Her stomach muscles clutched. “What did you give me?”
He frowned driving those beautiful brows down.
“Whatever you ate, or medicine you took, didn’t agree with you,” he told her. Kenya kept her attention on him as he eased her from his lap down to the bed. His closeness intensified the delicious scent rising from his chest. As he pushed away to stand, she caught a glimpse of his chest between the open buttons of the dress shirt…reddish-brown hair. She tucked the t-shirt around her hips averting her eyes from his body and sat up straight. His rich accented voice brought her head up. “I’m Jonathan, Kenya,” he said, backing toward the door.
Kenya’s mouth fell slack at his admission. “How do you know my name?”
Jonathan stood relaxed in the doorway running a hand through thick rusty bronze hair then set his attention on her face and smiled. “You called me.”

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Excerpt ~

Kenya stepped from the elevator, ushering her rep through to the lobby of the bank, grateful she’d be the last for the week. All month, her new position, and full schedule, kept Jonathan Blakemore from filling her every waking thought. Moreover, she enjoyed meeting new people in the financial industry.
Their heels rapped in unison across the marble tiled floor. The metal turnstile clicked behind her hip pushing through the hooked separators to the front desk. At the marble reception counter, the security guard, Ralph, slid the clipboard over to her rep while holding out a hand for her temporary visitors pass. The woman initialed the log. Ralph tossed the sticker in the trash beneath the desk.
Through the two story glass wall, Kenya watched the woman pass through the rotating doors out to the parking lot. Luxury cars filled her view as she waited to see the woman’s charcoal wool trench disappear into her black Mercedes. Kenya found herself on tiptoe, searching the lot for Jonathan’s vehicle. Fiddling with her black pearl necklace she had to laugh. Jonathan drove a Bentley. That was like looking for a red dress in a room filled with white suits. You didn’t have to look, it would just be there. Get a grip. There is no more Jonathan, not for her at least.
They had broken up courtesy of Brian Blakemore, but still…she missed Jonathan, found herself absently picking out men with red hair everywhere she went lately. Went…that’s funny; she went to work and came home. Where would she find men? Heck, outside of Randall, her neighbor, and her father, there were no men in her life…oh yeah, the doorman on her building. He’d tease her about dating the United Nations until she’d set him straight on dipping in her personal business. Outward perceptions aren’t always correct and being friends with a man doesn’t mean you’re sleeping with him. Randall’s a friend. She hovered, with her arms folded under her breast to ward off the cold air, beside the emergency doors. Wind whipped the light dusting of snow on the ground under the awning of the building’s wide portico.
The deliveryman opened the doors, spewing the cold air in over her feet. She bounced from foot to foot, dodging the cold air dancing around her feet.
A second delivery truck pulled up in front of the building. Sucking in a breath, at the sight of the Edible Arrangements bright red color, her mouth watered. The small truck angled to the curb. Smiling, she shoved her hip against the metal bar, holding the door open as the deliveryman crossed into the building and headed for the security desk.
Wheeling around, a second aroma assaulted her, wafting in from the restaurants down the street in the next Industrial park. She could eat her swipe badge the way her stomach growled.
Wow, she needed to eat.
Nodding to the guard behind the large marble desk, she pulled her swipe card and slipped around the turnstile before she made a fool of herself by peaking under the baskets wrapping’s. Smoothing down her gray pinstripe dress, she angled her lunch card from her pocket and stalked to the cafeteria.
“Kenya, hold up.” Stepping back into the hallway and turning on her tall heels, she waited as Julia stepped off the elevator. Julia’s long hair pulled into a severe bun at the nape of her neck gave her an Audrey Hepburn appeal, if Audrey had a Latino heritage. Her hair always appeared freshly done without a single strand out of place.
“I’m going to lunch.” Fiddling with her pearls, she couldn’t get the sweet aroma of the gift basket off her mind. “Somebody got a basket of fruit delivered. Now I’m starving.”
“Yeah, I’ve chewed all the gum I care to. Air on the stomach is so unprofessional,” Julia said, rubbing her flat abdomen. “Please let them be serving chicken noodle soup today and not that scary chili they keep recycling this week.”
Kenya couldn’t argue about the chili. It showed up more than junk mail in her mailbox. She said, “Oh, chicken noodle sounds perfect.” Tossing her head back, indicating the front lobby, she laughed. “The basket of fruit is driving me crazy.”
Julia twisted her mouth in a wry smirk. “I have yet to receive one of those.”

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