Last Chance (The Chances Trilogy Book 3) by Martha O’Sullivan released in June in the Contemporary romance genre.
Star-crossed lovers Lindsay Foster and Brian Rembrandt get another chance at love amid the brilliant blue waters of Lake Tahoe. In Chance Encounter, Delaney Richards and Mike Savoy’s quest for love takes them from Tahoe’s tranquil shores to the capricious streets of San Francisco. And in Last Chance, even the bone-chilling temperatures of the snowcapped Sierras are match for the newfound desire between friends-turned-lovers Moira Brody and Paul Webster. It’s finally their turn to find true love…
Moira Brody knows Paul Webster better than he knows himself. But neither one of them know that he is as desperately in love with her as she is with him. Still, she isn’t going to wait around forever, especially on Valentine’s Day. When Paul learns that the hard way, he has no choice but to take matters into his own hands. He can’t lose her. Or let the past dictate the future.
So Paul and Moira will have to do something they’ve never done before—go on a real date. A first date that turns into a passionate night, something for which Moira has waited a long time. These friends-turned-lovers will have to look at each other with fresh eyes and brave hearts. But not everybody is on their side. And Paul will have to choose between following his head and listening to his heart. Or risk losing Moira forever.
Universal link: https://books2read.com/marthaosullivanlastchance
She looked mesmerizing in the amber light. Her emerald green eyes were soulful and clung to his as if unwittingly attached. Her full lips were naked now and Paul told himself it was from eating. The coal-black tendrils had doubled, the errant strands falling in sexy waves around her fair face. Also from natural causes, he told himself. “Hey. Can I come in?”
“Of course,” she invited, ushering him in.
Stepping inside, Paul rapid-fired, “I’m glad you’re home. I wanted to—”
“Where else would I be at eleven o’clock at night?” she cut him off.
“I don’t know.” His mind was suddenly a mare’s nest and his palms were beginning to sweat. “I wasn’t sure what your plans were for the rest of the evening.”
“I’ve been home for almost an hour,” she informed him evenly.
“Alone?” His eyes scanned the living room.
“It was just dinner, Paul,” Moira patronized.
On Valentine’s Day, he silently added. “About that, I came by to apologize.” He wondered if she sensed the audible relief in his voice. “I shouldn’t have assumed we’d see each other tonight. And I certainly shouldn’t have assumed you’d be,” he bit off the word, “available.” He looked away then, into the kitchen, and saw what she’d been doing. Arranging flowers.
She must have acquired clairvoyant powers in those few seconds, because her tone
softened and she said, “I had to bring them home. They’re too beautiful to waste.”
With four long strides he advanced into the kitchen and glanced around. “Where are the roses?”
She followed him. “At the office.”
“They’re not too beautiful to waste?” he asked in a thick voice, turning to face her.
“No, they are.” Her breath hitched. “They’re just not from you.”
Her eyes were filling behind their dark lashes and she was biting her bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears. Paul couldn’t have stopped himself from going to her if he’d wanted to. “Moira, what are we doing?” he implored, gripping her forearms. “What have I done? Have I lost you?”
She shook her head from side to side and the tears began to fall, leaving sooty tracks on her cheeks. Tipping his head back in silent gratitude, Paul gathered her in his arms. She instantly moved into his body, sniffling through sawed-off breaths.
“Tell me nothing happened. Tell me there’s nothing between you and him,” he prayed out loud after a long moment.
She answered by burrowing her head into his shoulder and wreathing his middle. She smelled like a subtle version of earlier, infused with wine and garlic. Hope replaced the trepidation in his stomach and he heard himself say, “I had to force myself not to go back there. I’ve been driving around for hours, going crazy.”
She angled out of his grasp just enough to make eye contact. Suddenly she was the girl he used to know again, not the woman tying his insides into knots. Or maybe the perfect
combination of both. Her eyes began to shine and a satisfied smile curved her lips. “You have?”
“Yeah. Like outside my mind crazy.” He laid his lips on hers and tasted the salt from her tears. She melted into the kiss, then the next. He wondered if she could sense him growing
behind the zipper. Or the spool of want unwinding into a thousand frazzled threads in his gut. Gasping for air, he released her mouth and cupped her face in his hands. “You make me crazy, Moira Brody. Absolutely crazy.”
Meet the author
Martha O’Sullivan has loved reading romance novels for as long as she can remember. Writing her own books is the realization of a lifelong dream. She is a graduate of Illinois State University where she wrote for the school newspaper and was a member of Zeta Tau Alpha. She is also a former Acquisitions Editor at MacMillan Computer Publishing. Martha writes contemporary romances with male/female couples and happy endings. Her current work in progress is Christmas in Tahoe. A native Chicagoan, she lives her own happy ending in Florida with her husband and two daughters. Please visit marthaosullivan.com for buy links, excerpts and more.
My love affair with California began at the tender age of fifteen and continues today, more than three decades later. So it should come as no surprise that the book of my heart, which somehow turned into a trilogy, is set there.
Maybe it was the indescribable thrill of a Midwestern girl seeing the ocean for the first time. Or the unapologetically bronzed coeds with movie-star teeth playing volleyball in the sand. Perhaps the towering palm trees swaying against the impossibly blue sky. But that was in Southern Cal; my ChancesTrilogy takes place in Lake Tahoe and San Francisco, hundreds of miles north.
I was an only child of the 1970s, growing up in a place where a short, precious summer turned into a long, cold winter seemingly overnight. In high school, I often opted for the city bus because it stopped in front of the library. Just a branch, but they had loads of paperback books. And I always found myself drawn to the wire rack of slightly musty and lovingly tattered romance novels. The books took me to places all over the world where effortlessly beautiful, strong-minded heroines were swept off their feet by magnetic, irresistible heroes. I preferred the books to the afternoon soap operas because I could use my imagination to mold the characters to my liking. And if I found the ending disappointing, I would simply finish the story in my head with a more suitable outcome.
Writing such ideas down, however, took another thirty-plus years. In the interim, I went to college and met my own hero. And he took me to San Francisco on our honeymoon. And, as cliché as it sounds, that’s where I left my heart. Well, part of it anyway. Because eight years later I went to Lake Tahoe for the first time. And my love affair with California moved farther north.
I hope my Chances Trilogy will take you there. And you’ll leave a little piece of your heart behind too.