GIVEAWAY: Sinful Rewards by Cynthia Sax

Author Bio

Cynthia Sax’s stories have been featured in Star Magazine and on Real Time With Bill Maher. She lives in a world where demons aren’t all bad, angels aren’t all good, and magic happens every single day. Although her heroes may not always say, “I love you,” they will do anything for the women they love. They live passionately. They fight fiercely. They love the same women forever.

Cynthia has loved the same wonderful man forever. Her supportive hubby offers himself up to the joys and pains of research. He receives a daily briefing on what every character is doing. You can also learn what Cynthia Sax’s characters are doing by visiting her website at www.CynthiaSax.com or emailing her directly at Cynthia@CynthiaSax.com.

She loves writing fated to mate romances because this is her personal experience with love. She fell in love with my dear wonderful hubby at first sight and 20 years later, they’re still very much in love. This is what she wishes for her characters and  for her readers.

Excerpt

I allow my gaze to travel up the stranger’s body, over his thighs, groin, stomach, chest. A thick scar slashes through his right nipple and four letters are tattooed over his left pec – USMC – United States Marine Corps. He’s a military man, trained to protect, to kill. This should dampen my unseemly fascination with him.

I want him even more.

A larger tattoo stretches over his collarbone, the design depicting a sun framed by a pair of wings, the ink black and gray and achingly beautiful. The feathers are finely detailed, the softness appearing out of place on such a hard body.

The stranger’s spine is straight, his shoulders squared and his arms raised. A third tattoo encircles one huge bicep, the barbed wire in black ink serving as a warning. Danger. Do not enter. A wise woman would heed this sign.

I should heed this sign. I should look away. I can’t, my gaze drawn to him. The man’s chin is square, brown stubble shadowing his golden skin. His nose is flattened, his nostrils are flared, his—

I step backward, my heart pounding. No, my luck can’t be that bad. I look into the telescope once more. It is that bad. Military­ style binoculars cover the man’s eyes. These lenses are pointed directly at me.

He’s watching me. I move away from the window, retreating into the shadows. He saw me looking at him. He knows. Heat rushes over me, making the world spin. This stranger knows I’m a pervert. He knows I’m not the good girl I’ve allowed others to believe. If he tells Cyndi, Mr. Wynters, anyone…

I hold my breath, count to five, and release it, repeating the action until the fog surrounding me dissipates and my rational thought returns. He won’t tell anyone and if he does, who will believe him? He’s standing on his balcony naked. This fact alone disqualifies him as a credible source.

Not that gossip ever originates from credible sources. I twist my lips, disgusted with myself for making this error. This is why I shouldn’t take risks. I take one look through the telescope and I get caught. My mom has one wild night with a bad boy and she conceives me.

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