Publication date: October 12th, 2020
Cover Design: Karen Hulseman, Feed Your Dreams Designs
Cover Photographer: Wander Aguiar
Cover Model: Alex (Zink Models)
Synopsis:
A woman drowning in sorrow. Invisible.
The man that sees it all. Sees her.
The only thing that gets Charlotte Prescott through the day is the haunting eyes and magnetic voice that uplifts her in the subway station every evening.
All Montgomery Logan wants to do is ease the pain of the woman he feels a strange, protective draw to. He serenades her from afar, knowing their worlds will never intersect.
Until the day they do.
And everything changes.
Will their differences make them stronger or tear them apart?
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Praise for Heart Strings
"Music to soothe the soul... A connection that was felt by both, A smile that set MY heart tinging. <3" -- Chele, Goodreads
"I definitely would like to see made into full length stories because they were so engaged from Sydney Logan, Melanie Moreland, and Jo Richardson." -- Shannon, Goodreads
Excerpt
We didn't touch in the elevator. We stood on opposite sides as if we knew, once we touched, we wouldn't be able to stop. My breathing had picked up, and as the ancient elevator rose to the fourth floor, it became harder to fill my lungs. I lifted my eyes, meeting Logan's intense, passionate stare, the black of his pupils almost eclipsing the rich golden-brown I was used to seeing. He looked dangerous and sexy. I heard my gasp, and my breathing accelerated more, becoming short bursts of air.
Gripping the handrail as if he was holding himself back, Logan pushed his torso forward but still didn't touch me. "Breathe, Lottie. I promise I'll ease the ache soon. But I need you alone and the door locked."
I could only nod.
"Do you have your keys?"
"Yes." I managed to get out.
"Good." He exhaled hard. "I'm not going to be gentle. I'm not that kind of lover."
My breathing shuddered, and my body reacted to his words. My pussy clenched, aching like it never had before. I pressed my thighs together, needing relief.
Had I ever wanted anyone as much as I wanted this man?
The elevator door opened, and I went ahead of Logan. I could feel him behind me, hear his breathing. At my door, I fumbled, my shaking hand unable to insert the key into the lock. Logan edged closer, his large hand closing over mine.
"Let me."
Wordlessly, I allowed him to pull me back, his hard body crowding me against the door. The key turned, and Logan's arm wrapped around my waist, holding me close.
His hot breath drifted across my skin, his lips on my ear. "Last chance to change your mind. Once we go inside and shut the door, you're mine."
"I already am," I whispered, knowing deep inside it was true. I had been his since the night he had first sung to me.
He cursed low in his throat, picking me up and stepping into my condo as if I weighed nothing. Using his foot, he hooked the door fast, and it shut with a loud thud, the lock clicked into place. I heard my keys land somewhere on the floor, and he spun me in his arms, crashing his mouth to mine. He didn't hold back, his tongue plunged inside, licking and sucking. His long, talented fingers yanked on the buttons of my coat, pushing it off my shoulders, and jerked my scarf away from my throat, his mouth latching on to the tender skin and pulling it between his teeth. I fumbled with his zipper, shoving at his cold leather jacket. I wanted it off. When the coat hit the floor with a satisfying thud, it wasn't enough. I wanted his sweater gone. I needed to feel him. Gripping the bottom of his sweater, I tugged, cursing in frustration when he stepped back with a smirk.
"Tell me what you want, Lottie."
"You." I licked my lips. "I want you naked."
He laughed, the sound low and sexy in his chest. It was the laugh of a male satisfied with what he had just heard. It went along with the pleased smirk on his face.
"You want my sweater off?"
"Yes."
Reaching over his head, he tugged on the material, and slowly, his torso was revealed. Long, taut, with muscles in all the right places, he was gorgeous. His arms and abs were toned and hard. A musical score in black ink was etched into his skin, the start and finish curled around his biceps. I knew without seeing it was embedded across his back, waiting to be discovered, and I wanted to trace it with my tongue as he sang it for me. He trailed his hands down his chest, flicking at the nipple ring that glinted in the dim light from the small lamp I had left on. I wanted to take his nipple ring in my mouth and tug on it. Hear him groan my name. He stopped at the waistband of his jeans, slowly arching an eyebrow.
I knew I had spoken my thoughts out loud, but I didn't care. I wanted him to know what I was feeling. How much I wanted him.
"You'll get exactly what you want after I get what I want. Which, right now, is you naked."
I whimpered and, without a thought, tore my sweater over my head. It wasn't sexy and slow the way he removed his. It was desperate and fast. Needy. Exactly the way I was feeling.
He smirked, popping the button on his jeans and cupped his heavy erection in his hand. His boots were kicked off with a fast jerk of his feet, and he closed the small distance between us. Crouching down, he tugged off my boots, running his hands up my legs, over my thighs, and lingering on my ass. He straightened, pressing his nose to my skin, his lips trailing wet kisses up my body. His mouth covered my nipple through the lace of my bra, sucking on it, biting down, and teasing the hard nub. He spread his hand wide on my back, bending me slightly to repeat the action on my other nipple, then flicked the clasp open. My nipples were tight, hard peaks, wet from his mouth, aching for more. My clit throbbed with the need for his touch, my skin aching for more of his hands on it.
"So beautiful."
"Please, Logan."
In seconds, I was naked, lifted into his arms, with my legs wrapped around his waist and my back pressed against the wall. He plunged his tongue into my mouth, hard and twisting. He cupped my ass and slid his fingers between my legs, dragging them through the slickness. He circled my clit, pressing on the nub, and thrust two fingers inside. I cried out in pleasure at the sudden invasion, the sound muffled in his mouth. He began pumping his fingers and tongue in tandem, fucking my mouth and pussy at the same time. He strummed my clit, pressing, teasing, taking me to the edge and pulling away, ramping up my need, then leaving me aching for more, only to start all over again. I clawed at his back, yanked on his hair, desperate for him. I rubbed my aching breasts against the coarseness of his chest, the nipple ring cold and unyielding on my skin. I wanted to feel the bite of his metal on me. He ground his erection into me, the roughness of the denim an exquisite torture.
His movements picked up, becoming harder. Faster. Possessive and deeper. He played my body as if he knew it. As if he owned it. Every touch was sure, every strum of his fingers, perfect. Then he slid a finger into my ass, and I exploded. My body locked down, and I screamed, every nerve on fire. Waves of ecstasy crashed over me, and I rode his fingers until my body sagged in exhaustion.
He released my mouth, and I dropped my head to his shoulder with a quiet moan.
He moved, carrying me down the hall and tenderly laying me out on my bed. He leaned over, switching on the lamp, staring at me.
"That..." I whispered. "That was..."
He grinned and tossed some condoms onto the nightstand, then pushed his jeans and boxers over his hips, letting them fall to the floor. His erection sprang free, jutting out, thick and heavy, the head glossy and dripping with precome.
"The beginning," he promised. "Only the beginning."
About the Author:
NYT/WSJ/USAT international bestselling author Melanie Moreland, lives a happy and content life in a quiet area of Ontario with her beloved husband of thirty-plus years and their rescue cat, Amber. Nothing means more to her than her friends and family, and she cherishes every moment spent with them.
While seriously addicted to coffee, and highly challenged with all things computer-related and technical, she relishes baking, cooking, and trying new recipes for people to sample. She loves to throw dinner parties, and also enjoys traveling, here and abroad, but finds coming home is always the best part of any trip.
Melanie loves stories, especially paired with a good wine, and enjoys skydiving (free falling over a fleck of dust) extreme snowboarding (falling down stairs) and piloting her own helicopter (tripping over her own feet.) She's learned happily ever afters, even bumpy ones, are all in how you tell the story.
Melanie is represented by Flavia Viotti at Bookcase Literary Agency. For any questions regarding subsidiary or translation rights please contact her at flavia@bookcaseagency.com
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