Page 1 of Sinful Temptation

Loving him can never be a sin…

Scion of a powerful family, Antonios Davies has come home to take his rightful place as head of his family’s respected New York auction house. But the former soldier is haunted by memories of war…and the woman who has consumed his dreams for months.

Talia Adams fell in love with Tony in the poignant letters they exchanged while he was overseas. But the beautiful painter has wounds of her own. She isn’t prepared for the seductive stranger who shows up on her doorstep…or the passion that sweeps them past the point of no return. Are they ready to let go of the past for the most passionate future imaginable?

Ducking his head, he pressed his cheek

to hers and whispered in her ear.

“Tell me, baby.”

“It’s been a tough year.”

Against her temple, she felt the prickle of his brow as it contracted, and she could understand his confusion. Maybe he thought she was referring to her broken relationship with Paul, which was a natural conclusion. The wrong one, but still natural. Tony had only ever known about the tip of her iceberg of secrets.

She couldn’t bear the thought of telling him about the rest.

“I understand,” he murmured. “I know about tough years.”

“I’m strong. I can handle almost anything.”

“I know you can.”

“The one thing I can’t handle,” she said, raising her head so she could look him in the eye, even though she was about one second from bawling like a baby, “is having you and then losing you.”

A glimmer of something—relief? Hope?—flashed across his face. “You’re not going to lose me.”

That did it. The first tear fell, splashing down her face. “It’s inevitable.”

His brow furrowed into a vague frown, but he chose not to pursue it now, which was, she knew, a temporary reprieve at best.

Instead, he lowered his head and, taking all the time in the world, covered her mouth with his.

Dear Reader,

Stateside again after his escape from captivity in Afghanistan, Tony Davies does his best to embrace civilian life, which isn’t easy. The war haunts him, and there are things he cannot forget. Like the woman who wrote to him while he was overseas, her poignant letters and the passion he’d begun to feel for her. He’d even nursed the secret hope that they had a future together—until her communication suddenly stopped, leaving him with only unanswered questions and a terrible silence.

Painter Talia Adams is also haunted by her past, and the last thing she expects is to find Tony Davies alive and on her doorstep, demanding explanations she doesn’t want to give.

What will she do?

She’d better come to terms with her demons, and fast, because she’s about to run headlong into one unavoidable truth: Tony didn’t survive all those terrible months as a POW only to return home and lose the woman he’s come to love.…

Happy reading!



Two years ago

August 16

Dear Antonios—

I’m so glad we had the chance to meet at my studio before you went overseas! You do remember me, right? I know it’s been a little while. I was the one with the winning smile and all the silver bracelets that you so kindly made fun of.

Ringing a bell? Yes? No? You were there to pick up your nephew Nikolas from my art class in the West Village.

Anyway, I have a confession to make: this whole idea of communicating without email is overwhelming me. I understand that while you’re stationed in Afghanistan you’ll be in some areas where the internet is unavailable, but, really, it seems very rude of the locals not to provide the best possible accommodations for you. Has anyone explained to them the need for additional towers and the like? Maybe if you point out how important it is…?

In the meantime, I’ve found an answer to this dilemma. After much research, I’ve discovered that there is another way to pass along written ideas. It’s called writing a letter, and it involves pen and paper. No, really! But it’s not a perfect solution. For one thing, have you seen my handwriting? For another, who will spell-check? My speling and proofreeding arnt what they shood ought to be pritty bad.

Clearly, this whole exercise is fraught with peril, and not for the faint of heart, but I do think I’m up to the challenge.