Gone From Me Synopsis:
Their life was a fairy tale—until it all came tumbling down.
Hearts of the South, Book 10
Georgia Bureau of Investigation agent Amy Bennett isn’t sure when her own Prince Charming went AWOL from their marriage, but she’s certain of one thing. She wants him back. She and Rob had it all: law-enforcement careers they loved and each other. Yet somehow he’s wound up sleeping on the couch and emotionally beyond her reach.
Rob is trying to put the pieces back together, but battling his own demons while starting over in a small-town sheriff’s department is pushing him—and his marriage—to the breaking point.
His very first missing person’s case threatens to end anything but happily ever after for the families involved. Then a young man goes missing too, and the pressure has Rob reaching for the nearest lifeline. The one that’s dangling by the barest of threads—his wife.
And though Amy’s grip is strong, her love may not be enough to keep Rob from slipping away.
Contains a husband who’s holding too much in, and a wife who’ll do anything to get him to let go, even meet him halfway on their last piece of common ground—in bed. Also: cop bonding between cops who talk like cops.
“Stop worrying. All it does it steal today’s joy.” She removed the remote from his grip, turned off the television and dropped the remote on the coffee table. With an arm hooked around his neck, she settled sideways on his lap. “You are doing everything you can.”
He looped both arms about her waist. “Yeah, well, it’s not enough.”
“Quit.” She leaned in to punctuate her words with tiny kisses along his jaw. “Worrying.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His quiet chuckle stirred her hair. She relaxed into him and rubbed her palm across his shoulder, down to his pectoral. A slight turn of his head and their lips met, clung. She sighed into his open mouth and skimmed her nails along his nape. He shuddered under the light touch and sought her mouth again.
The lazy kiss went on, the two of them relearning the feel and taste of one another. She’d forgotten how a soft nip to his lower lip wrung a growl from him and how the slow thrusting of his tongue between her lips made her hot all over, made her want to straddle him and take him deep inside her.
His hand traveled from her waist to her hip, fingers digging into her flesh as need mounted between them. Beneath her other hip, he was hard and heavy, even through the denim of their jeans. She shaped the muscles of his chest, palm skimming a taut male nipple under soft cotton. She loved touching him, loved the tight planes of his body, the indentations of muscle, the warm roughness of his skin. How had she forgotten that too?
Mouth still fused to his, she scrambled to straddle his thighs. She cupped her hands around his head, needing this sweetly carnal kiss to go on forever. His hands bracketed her hips, and he pulled her closer, belly to belly, chest to chest.
This was how he had kissed her at the beginning, back when they’d been college kids, when they’d sought privacy in his pickup on a red dirt road. This was how he had kissed her the first night of their honeymoon, in a gorgeous room at a little B&B in Savannah, his hands running up her thighs under her ridiculously filmy nightgown, and before it was all over, she’d been screaming his name.
She moaned, helpless under the memories and this kiss and the exquisite hurt of his hands holding her so tight.
This was how he kissed her when she was sure he wanted her.
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Linda Winfree Bio:
How does an English teacher end up plotting murders? She uses her experiences as a cop’s wife to become a writer of romantic suspense! Linda Winfree lives in a quintessential small Georgia town with her husband and grand-dog Poe. By day, she teaches English/Language Arts and is an all-round education nerd; by night she pens sultry books full of murder and mayhem.
To learn more about Linda and her books, visit www.lindawinfreewrites.com, follow her on Twitter @lwinfreewrites, or connect with her on Facebook at http://facebook.com/lindawinfreewrites. You can also contact Linda via email at firstname.lastname@example.org.