Feature and Giveaway: Spin by Bella Love

Jane MacInnee doesn't get spun up much. Only three times in her life, and two of those involved Finn Dante, the youngest of the dangerous Dante boys who roamed the backwoods town where her family reigned supreme at the top of their swampy social pile.

But eleven years ago she broke free and started an event planner business. Now she's aimed at the stratosphere with her newest, richest client. Nothing's going to stop her from succeeding.

All she has to do is what she's best at: fake it till she makes it. Relentless determination, white-knuckled control and a perky smile. No one wants anything else from her.

Except Finn.

When their paths cross again, eleven years after their river-side, body-firing kiss, Jane is about to lose the white-knuckled control that's got her so far from the backwoods she's spent her life running from.

Finn knows he doesn't need to chase her down. He just needs to show her what she's made of. Unwind her, slow and hot. And never let up, not even when she begs him.

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…all I was aware of was Finn. His hard body leaning back against the truck, his short hair tousled by a breeze, his palms shoved down into his pockets, his forearms roped with lean muscle.

He seemed completely comfortable with the silence spreading out between us.

I was not.

I remembered this about him. He'd stand in the middle of the chaos of a town event like the heart of a cyclone. All around, men and boys would be whooping and hollering, shooting off their mouths and occasionally their guns. The women would be talking and scolding, children would be screaming and shouting, music would be playing, and Finn would stand in the center of all the chaos, of it and yet somehow beyond it all.

Me, I plunged right into the thick of all that noise and energy. I thrived on it. I aimed for noise and energy and movement and endless distraction.

Silence might be a problem.

“I don't even know what I'm doing here,” I said, looking at the house.

He kept looking at the house too. “Really?”

My face flushed. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be able to detect it from the general summer swelter making everything else sweaty and flushed.

“You sure about that?” he asked, his voice low.

We turned our heads and looked at each other.

“Looking for trouble?” I suggested my own motives somewhat weakly.

He smiled.

“I don't do that very much,” I told him.

He rolled his hip against the truck, turning to me. “Janey, you've been looking for trouble since the day you were born.”

I opened my mouth to say that was not quite what I meant, and anyhow, it was ridiculous, then I shut it again. He'd taken his sunglasses off, and I could see his eyes. A definite point of vulnerability for me, Finn's blue eyes. Hard to lie when I was peering into them.

So instead, I snorted. “Me? What about you?”

He searched mine, then he said, “It's not hard to find trouble if you're looking, Janey.”

“No, I guess not.” We were quiet for a minute. “Are you looking, Finn?”

He rested his elbow on the roof of the truck. “Yeah. I like your trouble.”

“Oh.” Heat spread down my body like a river starting up.

“And you like mine.”

“I don't know what makes you say that,” I said primly.

He laughed. “You kissed me, Janey.”

“I lost my mind.”

“Twice.”

“So I lost it twice,” I said weakly.

He dropped his arm and tugged a loose strand of my hair between two fingers and lit me up. “Lose it again,” he said, low and rough.

I was helpless against that voice.

So I went up on my toes and touched my lips to his, just like always. And just like always, he hit me like lightning—electric, straight through the center of me.

“All gone,” I whispered.

His arm clamped around my back. “My turn,” he said, and put his hot mouth on mine.

Finally. I felt like cheering. Eleven years. How long could someone wait?

Wait, what? I'd been waiting?

I didn't have time to focus on that, because his kiss was taking all my attention. It was nothing like what I'd expected. I thought he'd devour me, eat me alive. I wanted him to devour me. But he was…tasting me.

Soft, tiny fire kisses, lighting me up like there were embers deep in my belly. Touch, brush, touch, brush, he kissed from one side of my mouth to the other, a tiny stroke of his tongue here and there, like he was painting my lips.

“Oh,” I whispered, shocked and trembling at the gentleness, and he slipped his tongue inside my mouth.

I'm a New York published romance author branching out into self-publishing as Bella Love. I stole the name from great-grandmothers on both sides of the family, so as not to play favorites on who gets the dirty mind attributed to their genetic line.

I write super sexy, fun, contemporary romances about confident, alpha heroes who aren't afraid of equally strong women. I never know if I should call some of them 'erotic romance' or not, because everyone has different expectations for that. So why don't we call them "almost-erotic" or maybe "damn straight they're hot" and be done with it?

I'm also a proud member of Rock*It Reads, a collection of New York published authors who are committed to bringing the same high standards of quality to our self-published romances. We've got New York Times and USA Today bestsellers among us, and some of the hottest romances out there, so be sure to stop by!

Places to find Bella:

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