Welcome to the blog tour for FIRST LIGHT, the third book in the adult contemporary romance series, Haven Island, by Isabel Jolie. See below for information on the book and series, buy links, an exclusive excerpt, and details on her giveaway.
About the Book
Title: FIRST LIGHT
Series: Haven Island Series #3
Author: Isabel Jolie
Publisher: Noctivity, Inc.
Release Date: September 28, 2021
Genre: Adult Contemporary Romance
Links: Goodreads | Amazon | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU | Amazon DE | Amazon IT | Amazon FR | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play
He could be my savior…or my downfall…
I was living a lie. No one knew who I really was. Letting someone in could’ve been devastating for my family. For the most part, isolation wasn’t a hardship. It’s not like I was looking for love or any kind of serious relationship.
But then I met Logan. I tried to keep my distance. He wouldn’t let me. Logan is gentle, kind, and loving. Everything I never knew I needed in my life. He’s also a cop—exactly the kind of man who’d never understand my truth.
So, while he shared his deepest, darkest secrets, I kept mine hidden. Too bad I couldn’t keep my heart locked away, too. Because now, I’m falling for a man who can never be mine. Not truly, anyway. How can I ask him to be my future when I can’t even let him help me survive my present?
First Light, book three in the Haven Island series, is a lightly angsty, sometimes suspenseful, small town, military contemporary romance featuring a grumpy protective, over hero and the heroine who steals his heart. All of the books in the series are standalone contemporary romance novels and can be read in any order.
“Do you have any idea how crazy this dress has been driving me? The hem bounces when you walk, and shows off these long, lean thighs.”
I shifted my leg, opening to give him greater access. The rough pads of his fingers were warm against my bare skin, and goosebumps spread like wildfire across my arms.
“Are you cold?”
“No,” I breathed. I toyed with his soft hair on the back of his neck then tugged, guiding him back to my lips.
“Would you… Can we… Take this to the bedroom?”
“But what about—” A hungry, deep kiss silenced me. “The kitchen?” I asked, breathless, when he pulled back.
“Screw the kitchen.”
“Are you sure?” My brain fogged. His thigh pressed hard between my legs, lighting a desire. But out of the corner of my eye, the dirty stack of plates nagged.
“Yeah?” I brushed my fingers through the coarse strands of his trimmed beard, and he leaned into my touch.
“You’re looking at those dishes, aren’t you?”
My hips flexed against his legs, and I closed my eyes, reveling in the sensations firing off in my core.
“Now I’m not.”
His rough beard scratched the delicate skin along my throat as he flicked over my sensitized nipple. Through the cloth, his touch teased, and my body yearned for more.
His forehead pressed to mine. “Two minutes.”
He lifted me and placed me against the wall. Cold air encapsulated around my front in place of his warmth, and I stood, watching him, stunned as he moved at lightning speed. The chilly wall pressed against my back, and I alternated between crossing my arms and dropping my hands to my side.
Moments ago, I’d been ready to jump him, to beg him, to drop all inhibitions. But the desperate desire to ease a long-buried need cooled, and my brain kicked in. Shouldn’t we take this slower? If we do this, will I be using him? I’m not about to get into a serious relationship. And he’s so straightforward. He’s a good guy. He seemed to want more. If he wanted more, he deserved more.
Dishes clanged together. One singular swipe on the counters with a kitchen towel left the white gleaming. He closed the dishwasher with a dull snap.
“Clean.” He announced as he stalked toward me. I halfway expected, or maybe hoped, he’d finish what we started and take me up against the wall. Hard, fast, and possessive. But he’d calmed down, too. He lifted my hand and pressed my knuckles to his lips. “Care to sit down? We can talk.”
“Talk?” An uncontrollable smile spread.
“It’s… we’re both each other’s rebounds, right?”
“Yes.” I rationalized if you considered the shift from my life as it was, to the current state, as a divorcee, then I wasn’t lying… he would be a twisted sort of rebound.
“This whole dating thing. To tell you the truth, I had no desire. Until you. I think I’ve been numb. Desensitized.”
“You had a tough divorce?” The bow of his shoulders relayed an underlying pain as answer to my question.
“Is there any other kind?” Gentle, sensitive brown eyes searched mine.
“No, I suppose not.” Apprehension he would see through me, see my lies, took hold. I dropped my gaze.
“I know they say a rebound relationship shouldn’t…evolve. But to me, you don’t feel like a rebound fling.”
My fingers slid through his. A crushing weight rested on my chest. I followed him over to his sofa. He sat down first, and he tugged my hand, pulling me down beside him.
“You’re not a fling to me either. But…”
“Sshhh. That’s okay.” Laughter from outside filtered through the walls, along with the high-pitched jingle of a bike bell. His arm wrapped around my shoulders, and he tilted my chin up. “I don’t want to rush this. We can take it as slow as you want. But I like kissing you. A lot.
Do you mind if I kiss you?”
My fingers skimmed his dark, thick hair at the nape of his neck, and he closed his eyes reverently. I pulled him down in answer. I tasted the faint hint of the cedar plank salmon, the chardonnay, and mint. His hands roamed over my dress, and I tugged on his shirt, pulling it out to grant access to the bare skin beneath. He groaned, and we shifted. Side by side on the sofa, his thigh pressed between my legs, and I ground against it. The tension and desire from earlier flamed back, but with a more controlled heat. He lifted my dress higher and higher, exposing me to just below my breasts. The soft touch of the rough pads of his fingers elicited an uncontrolled moan.
“Is this okay?” he asked in a low, barely audible, husky tone.
In answer, I brushed my fingers across his crotch and stroked the curve of his erection through his slacks. He groaned.
“How slow do you want to take this?”
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About the Author
Isabel Jolie, or Izzy to her friends, is an Amazon bestselling indie author with an unquenchable thirst for a good, sexy love story. Izzy’s heart pumps faster for stories with strong heroines, down-to-earth realism, and an unexpected twist.
When she’s not writing or reading, she can often be found with a glass of wine in hand relaxing with her husband, daughters, and good friends lakeside.
Izzy fills her Instagram feed with funnies, inspirational “brain candy”, and anything that meshes with her mood of the day. #mood.
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