Series: Passion Series, Book One
Whiskey Creek Press Torrid: EBook
July, 2008 ISBN 978-1-60313-375-3
Novel, 70,000 words
Cover by Kendra Egert
Center Director Harry Gage hires Melissa Hopkins to have sex on camera. When smoldering lust and desire ignite into burning passion, is it love or just sex?
Heat Rating Explicit Sex: M/F, F/F; Ménage: F/F/M, multiple partners, anal sex, toys, voyeurism.
Have you ever loved someone who didn’t love you in return?… The things you treasure most are the ones you have to work the hardest for, something Harry and Melissa learn along the way. ~ Angi
Deb’s Book Reviews Four Moons: Smoldering Passion is Sensuality at its best! The Chemistry between all the character is phenomenal. Adriana Kraft taps into unrelenting passion and lets it flow upon the pages. ~ Deb
Work for a sex institute? Anything for her art! With her graduate stipend running out, budding artist Melissa Hopkins applies for a job where her aunt used to work – at a New York center that studies sexuality and creates educational sex videos.
Sworn off women after a disastrous relationship, Center Director Harry Gage ignores the danger signals and hires the striking young woman who reminds him of his former lover. Her air of innocence will captivate center viewers, so he’s sure she’ll be a hit on camera. What he’s not prepared for is how she pierces his heart.
When the sparks ignite, is it love or just sex – and what must each of them risk to find out?
“So,” Melissa said, quietly, feeling her cheeks warm. “Am I your type, Harry?”
Harry smiled and got to his feet. He reached out his hand for her. “Stand up, woman, and let me show you.”
She stood and he gathered her in his arms. His strong hands cupped her rump, her breasts crushed against his chest, and their lips met in a mid-air tango. She smiled against his. Yes, she must be his type. He sure was her type.
Holding hands, he guided her to the tall window overlooking the park. Rain continued to pelt the window, but it was refreshing to lean against Harry’s frame and imagine the park before them.
He nibbled on her ear and laved at her neck. She craned her neck, basking in the feel of his tongue. She experienced a sudden pang of guilt for getting him to talk about Aunt Phoebe without sharing her own story. Maybe she should’ve simply blurted it out. His tongue scraped across the roof of her mouth. She no longer had a pressing need to talk about her aunt. “Mmm,” she moaned, “that’s lovely. I love rainy Monet mornings like this.”
“Me, too. Particularly when I can share them with you.” He snickered. “Though I would’ve expected you to prefer bright sunshiny days with pristine blue skies.”
“I like those, too. But don’t forget I’m an artist. I have many moods. I also enjoy the first snowfall, and certainly spring flowers.”
“I bet you like to jump in leaf piles, too.”
“How did you know?” she said, squeezing his butt.
“A lucky guess.”
His nose rubbed back and forth across her neck. His busy hands slipped inside her robe to cup a breast each. She took a long breath as he played with her nipples. “So cozy,” she murmured, lowering her eyelids.
Her eyes popped open when she realized he was tugging at the sash of her robe. “Harry,” she scolded, “we’re standing in front of a floor to ceiling window. Someone may see us.”
“Nonsense,” he whispered into her ear. “Can you see anything through the raindrops?”
She shook her head and did nothing to stop his fingers already playing at her mound.
“Besides,” Harry continued, “you know New Yorkers. They never look up.”