The number 7 is the seeker, the thinker, the searcher of Truth. 7 doesn’t take anything a face value, but is always trying to understand the underlying, hidden truths. The 7 knows that nothing is exactly as it seems and that reality is often hidden behind illusions.
One afternoon. Two stubborn people. Five months into a just-sex relationship. Twenty-eight days until he leaves for London for good.
One challenge. Two hours. Three words that cannot be spoken.
And, if he wins, she comes seven times…
Seven is a (standalone) erotic novella of 30,000 words.
Barnes & Noble: http://goo.gl/KHgJGJ
All Romance eBooks: http://goo.gl/DTKhuv
About Claire Kent:
Claire has been writing romance novels since she was twelve years old. She has a PhD in British literature and, when she’s not writing, she teaches English at the university level.
She also writes contemporary romance under the penname Noelle Adams. You can find her at http://clairekent.com.
She wished Owen would stop smiling at the blonde. Surely he knew how deadly his smile was. Humility had never been one of his character qualities. He should know it wasn’t fair of him to be flashing that smile around to hapless females and then expect them to go back to their days as if he hadn’t left them as puddles of goo in his wake.
When Owen turned back toward her, with three books that the blonde had been “assisting” him to find, Amy quickly grabbed the first book she could lay her hand on and pretended to be reading it, so he wouldn’t know she’d been spying on him and feeling irrationally jealous.
A few seconds later, an arm slid around her waist and a very male body pressed into her from behind. He’d placed his stack of books on an empty space on the shelf beside her. “Good book?”
Shit, no man in the world had the right to make two simple words sound so achingly sexy.
“It’s okay,” she said, making herself scan the page quickly so she had some clue what the book was about. Leave it to Owen to ask her the content of her improvised prop. “It’s a little too much fantasy for my taste.”
“A hot billionaire sweeps in and rescues a sweet, selfless virgin from her life of mediocrity?” His hand was resting on her belly, and his mouth was right at her ear.
Despite the fact that they’d had quite good sex the night before, Amy’s body suddenly started to hum with interest. “No. He’s a hot SEAL.” She’d figured that out from the title, so she was able to give at least a little authenticity to her pseudo-reading. “The fantasy material is his magic penis.”
“Really?” Owen took the book out of her hand and peered down at the page she’d had it opened to. “What does it do?”
She smothered helpless giggles as she realized he thought she was being literal. “The penis forks into ten heads so he can pleasure ten women at once. Hot SEALs sometimes need to do that, you know.” She was quite pleased with her attempt to keep a straight face.
His eyes widened dramatically. “What?” He was flipping back pages now, obviously trying to find the ten-women-magic-penis-orgy scene.
She burst into laughter and grabbed the book out of his hands. “That would be a man’s fantasy. This book is a woman’s fantasy. So it’s not that kind of magic penis.”
“Oh.” He looked rather disappointed, but he was still smiling her favorite smile—the private, almost intimate one, like she was the only important person in the world. But he’d given her that smile from the very beginning, so she reminded herself it wasn’t promising her anything other than a good time. “So what does it do?”
“It evidently makes her come about seven times in one fuck.” Amy flipped back to the right page to verify. “Yep, that’s seven. In like an hour or something. Definitely, too much fantasy for my taste.”
He was frowning now as he picked up his books and put the fantasy paperback on top of the pile, evidently thinking she wanted to buy it. “It’s not impossible.”
“Seven orgasms? In an hour or two? And not from oral or anything. It’s all from regular intercourse. I’d say it’s highly unlikely.”
“I didn’t say it was a common occurrence, but certainly within the realm of possibility.”
She snorted, exaggerating her disdain because the blonde was smiling at Owen from the cash register as they approached. “Right. Not any realm of possibility I’m familiar with. I’m lucky to come even once.” She did lower her voice so the blonde couldn’t hear what she’d said.
Owen’s eyes narrowed as he handed the blonde his card to pay for the books. “Is there a particular complaint you’d like to lodge?”
“Don’t get touchy. I’m not complaining. Just saying some things are realistic and some things are fantasy. And that…” She nodded toward the book, which Owen had paid for with his collection of history and biography titles. “That is fantasy.”
I am delighted to have Claire with me this week. To celebrate her new release, I will offer a Hot Spanish Nights coffee mug to a randomly drawn commenter. This mug is HAWT with the lovely cover from the erotic novella. Bianca
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