Does a nomad know the meaning of forever?
Excerpt:
“Gemma?” His whisper rasped with need. “I can’t go on ignoring you. I can’t pretend that this isn’t happening.” The words wove a hypnotic thread around her, pulling her closer and closer.
The end of the dock was deserted. Even under the tinkling of the rigging, she heard the rapid beating of her heart, felt the intense heat of his skin, smelled the faint, lingering scent of his cologne. The silver glints in his eyes reminded her of the sparkles of sun on a summer sea, and she couldn’t look away, couldn’t close her eyes as his mouth settled on hers. He deepened the kiss, urging her lips open. He tasted of salt and sun. Beneath that, indefinable and addictively intoxicating, was a unique musky warmth, a taste she wanted with every cell in her body. Nobody had ever made her vibrate with need like this.
His powerful, sailor’s hands buried themselves in her hair, cupping her head. The contrast of iron control and fire ravaged her.
She explored his mouth swallowing his groan, a sound of deep agony or inexpressible pleasure.
At last, he lifted his head, and his fingers slid forward to stroke her swollen, moist lips. “I have to have you, Gemma. I can ignore the gossip. I can accept that we can never touch each other at work, but I cannot walk away from this. It’s too good.”
Breathless, unable to form a single coherent thought, Gemma stared at him. The whole dock dipped and swayed as if she’d touched land after a month at sea. Little spurts of sensation fizzed in her blood, each one exploding like a firecracker. Nick’s seductive heat tempted her to throw herself on the pyre. At that moment she believed she could brave any consequences.

Summer Wine

He was hot and charming. She fell for him hard and fast. They were on the way from Australia to the US to meet the mother-in-law from Hell, the jobs they had lined up didn't pay well, and her engagement ring was cheap, flashy bling, because that was all they could afford. What did it matter? They had each other, and poor but honest is the stuff of fairytales. Then Sam admitted he wasn't poor, which meant he hadn't been honest either. Things suddenly looked a whole lot grimmer. A different fairytale all together. The ring Claire thought was fake was real, and the man she thought was real was... well she'd just have to find out.

Excerpt:

The lights in the cabin dimmed and she reclined her seat into the sleeping position, turned sideways, and tucked her left hand under her head. She attempted to switch her thoughts off to get some rest. Her engagement ring dug into her cheek. She sat up to remove it and slip it into her bag while she slept. She paused in the act of twisting it off. Her eyes widened. Claire nudged Sam, stretched out in the seat beside her. "This is a diamond, isn't it? A real diamond." Her voice squeaked. Sam opened sleepy eyes. "Of course it's real. I wouldn't buy you a fake for your engagement ring." She looked at the ring in horror. "Oh my god! I can't wear this. Take it back. Take it away. Put it somewhere safe. That thing must be worth a fortune. What if I lost it? What if the stone fell out? What if I damaged it?" His brows lifted. "It's the same ring it was yesterday or ten days ago. You weren't worried about it then." She puffed out a breath. "Ten days ago I thought it was a cubic zirconia or something. Just as pretty, but its worth was in what it means. But this is a real diamond. It must be worth -- I don't know -- I don't have any idea how much diamonds are worth. I don't know things like that, never expected to. I can't take this kind of responsibility. I can't carry that much money around on my hand." Sam folded her hand into a fist. "Keep it where it's been since I put it on your finger." He shook his head. "I can't believe you thought it was a fake. God, Claire that would be tacky." Claire realized the conversation was about to slide into emotionally murky waters. How could one explain to one's husband that his wife no longer wanted her engagement ring because the stone was real, not fake?