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Tuesday, July 16, 2013



by Rebecca J. Clark 
Contemporary Romance 
Publisher: Self/Indie 
Release Date: December 12, 2012 
Heat Level: Steamy 
Length: 323 pages 

Available at: 
Amazon | B&N 

Haunted by a tragic accident 20 years ago, John Everest knows he doesn't deserve a family of his own, so he spends his days building the most successful fitness franchise in Seattle...and his nights alone. But that all changes when Samantha Rossi storms back into his life.

Happily single, Samantha feels there are only two types of men in this world: those who are good for nothing and those who are good for one thing. Now she needs that one thing desperately, because she wants a baby. John, a man from her past, is the perfect donor. He doesn't want children. He doesn't want a wife. He just wants her body. She can deal with that.

John agrees to Samantha's no-strings-attached proposal, never expecting to fall for the fiery beauty he'd wronged so many years ago. It'll take more than a shameless proposal to overcome their tragic past, but with a little luck and forgiveness, anything is possible. 

Warning: This title is intended for readers over the age of 18 as it contains adult sexual situations and/or adult language, and may be considered offensive to some readers.


The door opened and Sam Rossi stepped onto the plush beige carpet. He took one look at her and said, “Good God.”

He knew it was rude, but he had to stare, needed to let his eyes drink in every bit of her, starting with the black stilettos. His gaze traveled up her shapely legs. The skirt of her dress was just long enough to be considered legal, he was sure. And the dress itself — whew! Blood jetted into strategic parts of his anatomy. It was a shimmer of clinging silver following her every curve. The sleeves were long and fitted and the neckline scooped low enough to tempt him without revealing too much. Her glorious mane of hair swirled over her shoulders in a sexy jumble of dark waves.

“Good God,” he said again.

She laughed and stepped further into the room. “Is that all you can say?” A velvety black coat was draped over one arm and her hands clutched a sequined purse.

He shook his head and stood, circling the desk to stand of front of her. With those high heels, the top of her head just about reached his eyes. He’d only have to bend his neck a little to kiss her. Don’t think that! “What are you doing here?” Checking the time again, he said, “I thought we were meeting at Cavenaugh Coffee.”

“I got into downtown early and took the chance you’d be working late.” She glanced around. “Nice office.”

“Uh, thanks.” At a loss for words and coherent thoughts, he motioned to the burgundy leather couch against the wall opposite his desk. “Have a seat. I just need to, ah, finish something real quick, then we can go.”

Her hips swayed as she went, and his gaze followed the hypnotic movement. She deposited her coat and purse on the sofa’s wide arm, then sank onto the plump cushions. Leaning back, she crossed her legs, one shoe dangling off her toe, the skirt of her dress damned close to revealing heaven. God.

He didn’t know what had prompted this change of attitude in her, and with any woman other than her, he wouldn’t question his good fortune. But the small part of his brain not yet on hormonal overdrive warned him to watch his step. This was Sammy Jo he was drooling over. Sammy Jo. If she knew who he was, she’d claw out his eyes with those long, red nails. He couldn’t forget that.

Sitting at the computer, he saved his work and closed out of the software program. The comfortable creaking of leather sent his gaze back in Sam’s direction. She had risen from the couch and smoothed her skirt over her hips.

Smiling, she came around the desk. “Are these your kids?” She reached over his shoulder for a framed photograph on the shelf. The side of her breast came tantalizingly close to grazing his jaw.

Searching for his equilibrium, he glanced at the picture. “Uh, no. Those are my brother’s kids. Tori and Harlan.”

“Cute.” She replaced the frame on the shelf beside a miniature dumbbell he used as a bookend. “Do you have kids?” She headed back toward the couch.

“Uh, no. No, I don’t.”

“Mm. Married two times, yet no children.” She sent him a questioning glance over her shoulder.

How did she know about—? Ah, yes. The Extravaganza. His face heated. His marital history wasn’t something he was proud of. At all. “We didn’t want— I mean, I didn’t want— Not every marriage produces children.” Christ almighty, his speaking abilities with this woman ranked right along with his four-year-old nephew’s. He needed to change the focus from himself. “What about you? Any kids?” Of course he already knew the answer to the question from the P.I.’s report.

She reached behind the couch to open the blinds. Her dress came dangerously close to revealing heaven again, but somehow it remained in place. “No. Do all these windows look out on the club?”

“Yes. It lets me keep an eye on things.”

She peered out the window overlooking the Olympic-quality weight room. “Do you like kids?”

“Other people’s kids.”

“You don’t want any of your own?”

“No.” Wait a minute. John narrowed his eyes. He’d been around women before who were on the prowl for a husband. He hadn’t pegged Sam Rossi as the marriage-minded type, but this conversation sure sounded suspect. Was that her agenda? God, he hoped not. “Okay, Samantha. Why all the questions? What gives?”

Her sudden laughter surprised him as she turned away from the window. “Relax, big guy,” she said, coming over to perch on the edge of his desk, giving him a nice view of her thigh. “I’m not looking to be the third Mrs. John Everest, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

He breathed an inward sigh of relief. “Marriage and kids aren’t in the cards for you?”

She stood and put her hands on her hips. “Do I look like the marrying kind?”

Most definitely not, he mused, raising his eyebrows. No, Samantha Rossi wasn’t the wifely type. She was more the type he’d like to—


I've wanted to be a romance writer since reading my first Harlequin Romance when I was 11. I even remember the title—Wild Goose, by Mary Wibberley. Before that, I wanted to be Nancy Drew.

I love writing and reading romance because I'm a sucker for a happy ending. I love the feeling I get when finishing a great book--just for that moment, everything is right in the world. I hope to make my readers feel the same way.

On a personal note, I’ve been married 24 years (to the same guy), have two teenagers, a German shepherd who spends his days chasing our two cats (who, I'm pretty sure, are plotting to kill the dog), a gecko, two rats who come when they're called (seriously), and too many dust bunnies to count.

When I'm not busy writing or doing wife and mom stuff, I’m a personal fitness trainer and group exercise instructor at an awesome gym in a little town in the Pacific NW. I teach Pilates, Zumba, Turbokick and yoga. All that exercise supports my Cheetos habit... 

Connect with Rebecca J. Clark

Prize is 15 eBook copies (1 each to 15 winners) of "Shameless" from Rebecca J. Clark. Contest is barrage-wide, open internationally and ends July 21. Must be 18 years of age or older to enter.



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