Tuesday, July 18, 2017

What I Wasn't Looking For

I_m just a guy here for a short break on his way home from business. A guy who was lucky to get invited to this shindig so he could dance with you. That_s all (2)

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Ever heard that if you really want something, stop looking, and it will find you?

thickpaperbackfront_604x964 (2)Austin: For as long as I can remember, my dad has wanted to find his biological father. I’ve been searching for three long years, but now I’ve reached the end of the line. It’s time to call it quits, admit defeat and go home . . . and then I met her.

Mary: Times have been hard at Simoneaux Bayou since the hurricane came in and swallowed things up. But the community’s beginning to rebuild, and I’ve started to think maybe we’ll find a little bit of normal again soon. Tourists are coming back to Louisiana. Things have been so busy, I can barely stop to catch my breath . . . and then I met him.
The spark of our chance encounter ignites a passion that might burn into the kind of love neither of us knew we were looking for...

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Teaser

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mary pass us and move towards her chair. Her cheeks were flushed from the dance she and the other ladies had just finished. There was a little glistening along her brow and she grabbed a napkin to wipe it away. The music segued from a fast, heavy beat into a slow romantic tune.

I stood immediately and headed in her direction, even though Pas Bon was talking to me again. I captured her green eyes in an intense gaze as I approached, then put out my hand to her. She took it, sliding her fingers against my palm, then clutching me as I pulled her to her feet.

She fit in my arms perfectly and I wrapped one arm around her waist to hug her as close as possible. She tightened her fingers around my hand as we began to sashay to the music then leaned fully into me and placed her chin on my shoulder. I’d never had a woman dance with me quite like this before. She seemed to give everything over to my direction, moving effortlessly as one with me. I swallowed, then took a deep breath that let me inhale the sweet, honey scent of her hair.

“Do you all do this often?” I asked, my voice a little gravelly.

Her head rubbed up against mine as she nodded, “Usually on Sunday nights actually. Most of the tourists from the week before are gone so…”

I snorted a little chuckle, “I’m crashing the party, then.”

I felt the vibration of her own laughter, “Well, you’re different.”

Pausing my steps, I shifted so that my mouth was just beside her ear, “Why am I different?”

I was sure the tremor I felt that time was from a shiver running down her spine. Her fingers dug into me and as close as we’d been, she managed to inch even snugger in my arms, “You tell me, Austin. Why are you different?”

“I’m not. I’m just a guy here for a short break on his way home from business. A guy who was lucky enough to get invited to this shindig so he could dance with you. That’s all.”

She leaned back so she could wink at me, “You are lucky, aren’t you?”



About the Author

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When Olivia Hardin began having strange movie-like dreams in her teens, she had no choice but to begin putting them to paper. Before long the writing bug had her and she knew she wanted to be a published author. Several rejections plus a little bit of life later, and she was temporarily “cured” of the urge to write. That is until she met a group of talented and fabulous writers who gave her the direction and encouragement she needed to get lost in the words again.

Olivia’s attended three different universities over the years and toyed with majors in Computer Technology, English, History, and Geology. Then one day she heard the term road scholar and she knew that was what she wanted to be. Now she “studies” anything and everything just for the joy of learning. She's also an insatiable crafter who only completes about 1 out of 5 projects, a jogger who hates to run, and she’s sometimes accused of being artistic.

A native Texas girl, Olivia lives in the beautiful Lone Star state with her husband, Danny and their puppy, Bonnie.

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