Some of you may be familiar with my novel, When Will I See You Again, which came out in January, a m/m paranormal romance/mystery. Well, I'm proud to say that I've been working on the sequel for a little while now - and for anyone who likes that idea, y'all can thank Shorty Chelle, who suggested I write a story for Miller. Honestly, it hadn't occurred to me to write any more, but I am thoroughly enjoying it, let me tell you!
So here's just a little bit of When Will I Be Loved. As you remember, Miller is Alexx's friend, the receptionist at the Chronicle, and was helpful to both Alexx and Raoul in the first book. In this scene, Miller is at Charisma with Alexx and Raoul, and they're on the dance floor together, while he's tapping his foot and looking around for a potential partner. Enjoy! Then go visit the other members of the blog hop, who are listed at the end of my post.
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Miller’s neck stood up. Not in a terrifying way, but an electric one. As if something magnetic had just made a connection with him. Or was it someone? What the hell?
Miller forced himself to take a breath, unaware until he did that he’d stopped breathing.
Quit being ridiculous. Wine going to your head already?
But he’d only had the one glass. And he hadn’t even finished that. He wasn’t such a lightweight, when it came to holding his alcohol, and he knew it.
He told himself it was just his imagination. But just to be safe, he began a slow cautious turn, looking around him, without appearing to be searching for anything—or anyone.
And there he was.
Standing a heartbeat away from Miller was one of the sexiest men he’d ever seen in his life. A man every bit as sexy as Raoul Marchand, although not in the same feral way as the werewolf.
This man was light where Raoul was dark. His hair was a honey blonde which stood out by virtue of being obviously natural, in a place where most blondes were either created by the sun or came from a bottle. He stood a little taller than Miller, exuding a presence that went beyond the merely physical, possessed of the bearing and mien of a veritable god.
But it was his eyes that drew Miller in and held him spellbound. Blue and green, like staring into tropical waves, flecked with bits of pure molten gold. And the way he was staring at Miller was sending the most delicious shivers traveling up and down his spine.
The man took a step toward Miller, his hand outstretched. Before Miller quite realized what had happened, he’d placed his own hand inside of the other man’s, and he found himself being drawn onto the dance floor.
And now for the others!