Date of publication: December 19, 2013
She found him on a snowy night. He sparked her desires and inflamed her dreams.
Independent and feisty, Shea Madison has a tussle on her hands. Living in and loving her quiet little corner of Montana, she’s fiercely determined to fight a real estate developer trying to turn her quaint little mountain town into a touristy ski resort. So, when an outsider shows up to study the effects on the area, she instantly attempts to sway his impression… even if it means a little harmless flirting with the enticing visitor.
Rhys Weland’s charade has one purpose—to bring the locals around to the idea of the resort, primarily the ringleader, Ms. Shea Madison. Embroiled in his deception, he’s stunned by the feelings she draws from deep inside him. Her integrity and sincerity quickly have him second-guessing his twisted morals. Her spirit arouses his soul. Her sensuality steals his breath.
In the dark of the night, in the warmth of the fire, the passion smoldering between them combusts. But just when it all seems to make sense, one small stubborn mistake shreds the fragile bond between them. Will an impetuous act reignite their flame, or will their love vanish like sparks in the air?
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Each blog on this tour has a teaser pic. In each one of those teaser pics there is a letter that is different. There are four pictures in total that spell a four letter word. Figure out that word and type in the answer in the Giveaway/Rafflecopter. To get a tour schedule for the day go to https://www.facebook.com/subclubbers each day for the blog tour stops. The Prize? A signed Paperback from Sibylla Matilde herself.
Having never read a book by this author before, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect going into this. One thing is for damn sure, Sibylla Matilde can write one hell of a scorching sex scene. Wow. I was pleasantly surprised to enjoy this story as much as I did. While there was sex galore, it still managed to have an engaging plot that kept me interested through the whole book. Nothing better than walking into a book with zero expectations and discovering a new author to love. Plus this marks my 300th review, so it holds a special spot for me :))
Rhys Weland is a playboy, but his womanizing does serve a purpose. Working for a multi-million dollar development firm, Rhys soon finds that while he may be a talented architect, his good looks and charisma can charm the resistance and the pants of those in the way of his boss’s projects. He doesn’t really have a problem with his way of life and work, until his boss throws his latest assignment his way: Shea Madison.
Shea is the loudest voice against the firm’s plans of a resort in her small town. Rhys is used to his smile charming even the toughest females, but he gets more than he bargained for with Shea.
Shea was a feisty and foul mouthed heroine that you just can’t help but like. She puts up a good fight against Rhys, but little by little his charm begins to chip at her walls. The fiery hot attraction between them becomes harder and harder to resist.
Rhys goes from charming to a dirty talking sex beast in no time flat. And you certainly won’t be hearing this girl complaining. I do love me my sexy dirty talkers. Though I have to admit, his penchant for overusing the word “sweetheart” did drive me a little crazy.
I loved watching the attraction between them form to lust, to scorching hot sex that eventually gave way to feelings. The story was well paced and the sex scenes, while plenty, never took away from the story.
The epilogue was the perfect icing on the cake.
A solid 4 star read. If you enjoy sexy dirty talking heroes, feisty heroines, and an engaging plot filled with super hot sex, then you definitely need to read this book.
Bonus! Alternate POV
The Fire (Rhys POV)
A crackle from the fireplace pulled Rhys from a deep sleep, and he immediately had the feeling that something was missing. All around him he could smell her… smell them. But his arms were empty.
He opened his eyes to see Shea sitting on the hearth staring seriously into the flames. The deep russet tones of her hair haloed by the golden light. She had a blanket tucked up under her arms, and the warmth of the blaze glowed on her flawless skin.
Fuck…
She was beautiful.
She was amazing.
And she was going to hate his guts.
He leaned up slightly, bracing himself on his elbow. The sounds of his movement drew her attention, and she slowly turned her head towards him. Her teeth caught her lower lip as she gave him a troubled look. For a moment, they just were motionless, unspeaking. After all the strength she had exuded, all the bravado she had displayed, she suddenly looked fragile. She looked vulnerable.
A fierce protectiveness arose in him. But what did he want to protect her from? Himself? After all, really, he was her biggest threat. A tight twist self-reproach ripped through his chest, and gut felt heavy, like he had swallowed a stone.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. This regret was unfathomable. Unsettling.
And a little voice in the back of his mind kept whispering, Tell her…
Rhys wrapped the blanket around his hips and stood, walking over to her at the hearth. His heart pounded apprehensively. But, he knew he had to do this. He wasn’t sure why, but he had to come clean.
It was surreal, this need to confess. Never had there been the slightest inclination in the past. Not once had his conscience weighed heavily on his heart. He sat behind her on the hearth, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair, breathing deeply to take her sweet scent into his lungs. Eyes closed, he could see her coming apart beneath him. He could feel her tremble and shake, hear her soft cries as she blissfully shattered around him. As he poured himself into her with a mind-numbing release.
Tell her…
“We really need to talk,” he began.
Shea whispered back quickly. “I don’t want to.”
“Shea,” Rhys murmured against her neck, “something happened here tonight. This makes things complicated. You have no idea how complicated.” Really… God, she was going to hate him.
“No,” she continued to stare ahead, not looking at him, but resting her head more firmly on his shoulder. “This is just… this. Tonight. It’s not forever. It’s not life-altering. You’re not staying.”
Rhys frowned down at her. “Shea—”
“No, Rhys,” she turned slightly to face him. “Tonight was beautiful, but I’m a realist. I know this isn’t happily ever after. I don’t believe in fairy tales. Tomorrow, we just go back to… whatever. In a few days, you leave. It’s done. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Whatever? What the fuck? The gnawing ache inside him grew. The torment of wanting her to know the truth, but not wanting her to hate him. The desire for her to be strong and not be hurt by him, yet wanting to know that this had meant something to her… because these emotions swirling through him were bewildering. “Shea, sweetheart, there’s something more going on here.”
“But there’s not.” Her voice was soft, yet flat. Quiet. Her expression was serene and cool. “There can’t be. You know that. You’re not staying here. You’re here to do your report, and then you’ll be gone.”
That fucking report. The lie that would ruin her town. Rhys ducked his gaze.
Yeah, about that report.
“But that’s—” he murmured.
Shea’s fingers pressed against his lips, hushing his argument. “Rhys, all I want is right now. I want to sit here with you in the firelight. I want you to kiss me and to hold me.” She lowered her voice and whispered, “I want you to fuck me.”
Oh fuck.
What the fuck was wrong with him? This was tearing him to pieces. Damn, he wanted her. He’d have to be dead not to. But, while this all felt so right, everything suddenly felt so incredibly wrong. His part in all this was shit. She had let him inside her, she had trusted him and made him come so fucking hard.
But she would have never touched him had she known the truth.
He shook his head. “Shea—” he uttered through the heavy weight in his chest.
Abruptly, Shea turned and rose up before him, tossing her blanket to the floor. The warm firelight made her bare skin glow, threw shadows across her naked body. The desire became painful as he felt her hands tangle into his hair. Her vulnerability disappeared, and she was suddenly all powerful before him, eradicating the guilt and the regret and replacing them with passion and need.
“Fuck me, Rhys,” she whispered, and her lips crashed down on his. She wrapped her arms around him as her tongue darted into his mouth, sweeping across his.
His hands lifted to her hips. The slightest fragment of his mind still screamed. Tell her. But with her soft, smooth skin beneath his hands, with her warmth and her fevered kiss, she quieted the last shred of his conscience. Her hands sifted through his hair and came forward to cup his jaw, scraping her nails across the unshaven angles, and he surrendered himself to her exquisite touch with a shuddering moan.
Shea lifted her head. “Please, Rhys,” he heard her softly moan. “I ache. I burn. Don’t talk. Please… just taste me.”
Her hands sifted back through his hair, pulling lightly to guide his lips to her delicious breasts. He ravenously sucked and nipped, feeling a tremulous shiver run through her at his touch. Shea cried out as he drew deeply, massaging one breast with a rough, callused hand as he devoured the other, then switched. She was so soft, so sweet. Her skin was heavenly in his mouth. Her moans made him throb painfully with a need to lose himself again inside her.
Suddenly, she pulled away. He began to reach for her, but she slipped down to her knees before him and tugged at the blanket he had wrapped around his hips. For a second, she stared at his length, and his heart stopped as she licked her lips and smiled up at him with a heated gaze. She lowered her head and her tongue darted out to sweep along the head of his cock. Her breath caressed him before she licked again, her lips closing over the tip and suckling firmly.
Rhys was pretty sure he had found Elysium.
He watched her as her tongue started at the base and laved up his length, her hand bracing him firmly. Again, her soft, hot lips closed over him and took him to the back of her throat.
“Oh fuck, Shea…” Rhys groaned.
Fuck. Seriously, fuck.
Heaven.
“Your mouth…” he could barely form words. “Your hot little tongue. Oh fucking hell. That’s… Oh…”
She ran her tongue along him again, exploring the smooth, hard shaft with precision, intensely savoring the taste of him… of herself on him. She slipped her hand across her breast and down her stomach to her own sex as she drew him deep down her throat again. He watched her fingers delve into her wet depths and her moan vibrated against the head of his dick, causing him to nearly detonate right then and there.
“Oh, yeah, sweetheart… play with your pussy,” Rhys whispered.
“Do you like that?” Her breath was hot as she whispered against him, over him, around him. “Do you like when I touch myself there?”
“Jesus… fuck… fucking hot.”
Her eyes burned into his as she looked up at him. Of their own accord, his hips began to move slightly and he began to fuck her mouth as she brought herself towards blissful release. Suddenly, she was shaking, licking, moaning against him. Rhys lifted her slightly, pulling her away from his aching dick. He roughly guided her back onto the blanket and knelt before her, pulling her towards him as he spread her legs wide, displaying her glistening pussy in the firelight. A second of hesitation as his fingers swept through her slick wetness. His other hand wrapped around his cock and he tugged slightly before he aligned himself with her and pushed in to the hilt with a rushed force.
Her deep inner muscles were still contracting from her orgasm, and they tightened around him. As he pushed into her, she drew him deeper. She gripped to keep him as he withdrew.
The friction was awesome.
“Oh, you feel so good, sweetheart. So hot and wet. So tight.” Rhys reached for one of her ankles, pulling it up to his shoulder, and she compressed around him even tighter. “Fuuuuuuuck, yeah… clamp down on me,” he breathed out with short labored gasps. Their wet skin slapped together, and she began to tremble and convulse beneath him. He watched her as she came apart again, crying out and sobbing incoherently. Seeing her so free, seeing her expression soften and her eyes flicker open to look deeply into his. A fierce shudder ripped through him and he groaned. “Shea… I can’t hold it…”
For a moment, Rhys felt like his heart stopped beating, as though he was dying from the intense rush of pleasure that surged forth from him. He collapsed on top of her, still buried deep inside, still feeling the contractions of her beautiful pussy tightening around him.
He never wanted to move.
Ever.
He would have sold his soul at that moment to stay right there, a part of her, forever. Shea attempted to draw a breath, and the struggle roused him enough that he lifted up above her a little, putting his weight on his elbow.
He looked down at her, at her dark lashes fanning across her cheeks. The rise and fall of her soft breasts as she relaxed, bathed in the dancing light of the fire. She was practically listless… spent.
She was heaven personified.
Little by little, the poisonous guilt crept back into his heart.
She barely responded as Rhys lifted her and the blanket and carried her back over to the couch. He tucked her along the back, pulling the soft blanket over her. Moving quickly, he placed another piece of wood on the fire and stoked the blaze a bit before he joined her, pulling her close and tugging the blanket over the top of them.
He had to tell her.
He breathed a heavy sigh and pressed his lips against her forehead. His arms tightened around her and nuzzled his face into her hair.
Tell her…
“Shea, we really should talk about this…”
“No,” she breathed sleepily against his chest. Sated and fulfilled. “It will just ruin it. Sleep… we really need to sleep,” she yawned heavily and closed her eyes as she curled into his embrace. His fingertips traced the softness of her skin, along her shoulder and down her back.
“Shea…” he murmured again.
Shea didn’t respond. She was out cold, sleeping soundly against his twisted, tortured heart.
“Fuck, Shea,” he whispered against her hair. “What am I going to do about you?”
About the Author
Sibylla Matilde grew up in the mountain valleys of Southwest Montana exploring the dusty Old West gold country on the back of a horse. She attended a two-room schoolhouse beginning in 1st grade & had the same teacher until she changed schools after 7th. Beginning at about age 12, Sibylla discovered historical romance, feeding off of work of Jude Deveraux & Lisa Kleypas. She loves a book that can make the reader run the gamut of emotions, from the sweet glow of new love to gut-wrenching heartache. She is a true romantic & always has stories floating around in her head, living in a fantasyland until she writes them down to free them.
Music is her emotional trigger. Growing up with a Wagnarian-loving mother, Sibylla was raised to treasure music that digs deep into the psyche, drawing out elation, sorrow, grief, desire. The soundtrack to her life includes many genres spanning centuries. She looooooooves Thirty Seconds to Mars (rather obsessively, actually… but, really, how can you NOT be crazy about this guy!? Jared Leto. Shhh. ) & pimps them out to all her friends through Spotify. She also delights in Met Opera HD broadcasts at her local movie theater & hopes (listening Met?) to someday see Diana Damrau reprise her role as Mozart’s Queen of the Night in Die Zauberflöte.
Sibylla lives with her husband and hero who saved her from her own calamitous, young-adult self. He makes her laugh daily, even when things are tough. He’s proved to her that love really can heal a shattered soul. In 18 years, they have never had a fight, although argue regularly with their two teenage kids who have, unfortunately, inherited their father’s quick wit (unfortunate as it is a quick wit that Sibylla, herself, definitely does not possess – there is a reason she is a writer & not a stand-up comedian). They live a quiet life with their two weird little rescued Chiweenies. Wait… teenagers & little yap-dogs? OK, maybe not so quiet.
Wes knows the brazen Rubi isn’t his type. But after spending time with her, he discovers she’s everything he’s ever wanted in a woman. To win her wild rebel heart, he’ll have to prove he sees behind her smokescreen to all the goodness she tries to hide. Then it’s just a matter of crushing her fears, shattering her barriers, and convincing her that loving him is everything she’s been missing in her life, too. 
In real life? The meet-cute isn’t the least bit cute. It’s more like a meet-awkward. Sometimes even a meet-shoot-me-now.”
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Hear this now. I will always come for you.
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You do not talk about The Mansion. 
takes the cake. No pun intended…well maybe a little.
5 Burning Stars
Love is like a series of improbable, lonely notes landing together in meaningful chaos. Where every channel carries a rhythm that conveys an expression of emotion. It doesn’t feel flat or fake or hollow. It’s not exaggerated with overtones. The complexity might feel organized, but the creation is never controlled.”
