It’s been almost a year since I have written anything on here. I wonder if I should pick up where I left off. Life is not so good; and yet, it’s perfect in the sense that I have a granddaughter now who lives with me, along with her mother (my daughter). My mental health has gone to shit – my physical health isn’t too terrific either. I will think about blogging again. Maybe someone will care.
In this bridge book to the Archangels Creed series, you will be able to meet and get an up close and personal feel to Zool and Kcearn as they work on their quest. Great read, and free today!! Go get your copy!!
Azure Boone has put all three of her books in this series into one complete set – this is my favorite series of her books. I would highly recommend getting it – it is an amazing read, with each book having multiple 5 star ratings on Amazon and Goodreads. The story of Sarah and Micah is compelling and uplifting, as they battle their way thru darkness to finally find the good. Azure is a skilled story teller, and that is captured here in the best of ways.
This series by Azure Boone is probably my favorite. I can’t WAIT until book 4 comes out!!!
Micah was enamored. Sarah was as beautiful as he’d expect she’d be in normal clothes. White casual shorts that went to her knees, modest of course, and a lavender silk top with a frilly collar, no cleavage. Her auburn hair was down and tucked behind her ears. It was just past her shoulders, as he’d guessed. She always wore it up at the hospital and he’d hoped, maybe even prayed, that she’d wear it down for him. She had on little makeup, just enough to accentuate her natural beauty and it was all he could do to not sit and stare at her. She was putting on a superb act all for him, despite her clearly being nervous. For him, she could surpass any fear, any inhibition. And that was a total turn on in every possible way.
After dinner, she led him to “the office” which turned out to be her back patio on the third floor, scented candles—cedar and sandalwood, he was sure—a plastic table with a bowl of pinecones and two chairs. White. “I was thinking this would be much less traditional, more comfy?” She stared at him closely for the verdict, fully preparing to meet his preference.
“This is nice.”
“Great. Have a seat my dear sir.”
They sat and she smiled at him like she was just thrilled to have him over, like he were some celebrity all while wondering what approach she needed to take. He recognized that she’d moved their personal space to a three foot distance suddenly. Nice.
“So,” she began, “How do you like the apartments?”
Ice breaker. “I like it well enough.”
“You have a bottom floor, lucky you.”
“Nooo, I’d prefer a third floor like you. I like being on top.”
“Ohhh okay.” She bit her lip and looked down.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” Though yes, he did.
“Meet any neighbors?”
Sex was definitely not a topic she was going near in any shape or form. Yet. “Yes, I met the woman right next to me.”
“Oh? Tell me about her.”
“There’s not much to tell yet. She’s nice. Helped me organize a few things.” Micah looked at her, wanting to smile at how well she didn’t hide her troubled expression. “Is that…a bad thing?”
“Oh! No, not at all. Just be careful, okay? The world is full of…danger.”
He looked down, smiling. “Yes.”
“Did you catch her name? I mean I may know her. Been here…quite a while.” She laughed a little, still not hiding her disapproval very well.
“I probably shouldn’t have opened myself up to strangers so soon.”
“Absolutely not. You did well, don’t be ridiculous.”
“Her name was…I’m bad with names. I think Tammy.”
“Ah. Hm. Can’t say I know a Tammy. So you got settled in okay? When do I get a tour?”
He shrugged. “Never maybe.”
“Okay, that’s fine.”
He was amazed to hear it hurt her feelings. That he let a perfect stranger over and not her. “I was joking. You can come over whenever you want. Maybe call first so I can at least pretend I’m not a slob.”
She smiled knowing he was as OCD as they came, but he noticed it lacked the bubbly warmth. Would she ever fully recover from the other woman announcement? He also wondered why exactly that bothered her so much. He was almost sorry he’d told her but at the same time, desperate to know every reason for this reaction. Possessive he hoped. Fixated even better.
She angled her head, a question on her beautiful face. “You know, somebody forgot to enter your date of birth into the files and I’m trying to recall how old you are exactly.”
He studied her a bit, wondering. “I’m thirty-two. And you are?” He shook his head. “Sorry, I suppose that’s not my business.”
Her face scrunched with cute indifference, “No, it’s fine, it’s just age, not a huge deal.” And yet she bit her lip and wagged her foot rapidly. “I’m thirty-five.”
His cock twitched at this discovery. Another vulnerability. She could never have too many with him. She clearly saw herself as beyond the dating age. A true blue spinster woman. A comical concept with her rare beauty.
“You don’t look thirty-five.”
She laughed a bit louder than normal. “Well…thank you. You certainly don’t look your age either. You mentioned once you had a brother, I believe.”
“Yes.” She knew he didn’t want to talk about it. But the therapist in her insisted.
“Is he older than you? Younger?”
“He’s younger. And dead.”
Brief silence and then a silky, “I’m sorry.”
His cock jerked again. It did that a lot with her. The depth of emotion he heard in those words was erotic for him, fascinating even. “It’s been a very long time. He died when he was four.”
She was silent but he knew she wanted details. She’d have to work harder for those.
“You have siblings?” he asked.
She cleared her throat a little. “I have four. I’m the youngest.”
“Wow. That’s a lot. I was an only child after my brother.” He hoped she got the hint that he’d like an information exchange. Patience was definitely one of her virtues. But then it was one of his as well.
“How about I tell you a little about myself?”
Micah smiled at the unexpected treasure. He turned in his chair and scooted to the table, mostly to hide his hard on. “I would love that.” Utterly true. She had taken his information exchange bait, and was being honorable by going first. He already knew what he’d tell her when it came time to sharing.
“Well, I had a normal life, maybe even boring by some standards. My mom was a regular Betty Crocker…too bad it didn’t rub off on me. My dad was a philosopher and doctor. He loved William James.” She smiled fondly.
“I see who you took after.” He felt like a young boy at an amusement park for the first time.
“Yes.” She bit her lip, still grinning while delving into her beautiful shoe box of innocent memories. “I loved playing in my dad’s office. The smell of books was just…wow, I still love the smell.”
“So do I.”
She bit her lip again, flashing a look his way. His arousal had colored the words and she’d caught it. So perceptive. He wondered why she looked at him though. To see him in that emotion?
“My mom was forever chasing after me to be girly and I hated it. We were three boys and two girls, and apparently my sister just before me stole all the girly genetics from my mom and she had none left to give me.”
Micah laughed out right at that. “You seem to have grown into your girlie, I think.”
The surprise on her face, or adamant disbelief, crimped her forehead. “I’m so not girlie.”
He chuckled and lowered his head a bit. “Okay. You’re not girlie.”
“I’m not! I’m not into fancy clothes or make up, or jewelry. I even hate shopping!” She seemed desperate to prove her delusion.
“Well, if that is your definition of girlie, then you’re right. You’re not girlie. I thought you meant something else.”
She seemed to relax a little. “I mean I know I look like a girl,” she muttered, fishing for him to elaborate.
“You’re free to believe what you want about yourself,” he said.
“Fine, tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“What is your definition of girlie.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “I said you grew into your girlie. And I meant you became a beautiful woman.”
Her reaction was one for the books. He’d never seen her look so shocked. “Please doc, you’re far too intelligent and perceptive to not be aware that you’re beautiful.”
“You’re right,” she conceded too casually. “It is rather thick of me to not be aware of my beauty. I can’t tell you how often I’ve been called the blind professor. And with all the guys knocking down my door, how could I miss it? And me being single, well, that sort of just slaps me in the face with it, just amazing that I’ve managed to miss your delusion.”
Micah had to laugh. “So, because I think you’re beautiful, I’m delusional?” He loved being able to say I think you’re beautiful to her face and yet not.
“Oh, stop, enough. And I guess you know how gorgeous you are.”
Micah shifted in his seat readjusting his hard on. Was she playing? Did she really think that?
“I assure you, in a matter of days, you will have every woman knocking at your door,”
she knocked on the table for emphasis. “I, on the other hand, have been living here for seven years and have had zero men, aside from maintenance, knock on my door.”
He was shocked and thrilled. “It’s not my fault they’re blind.”
She became animated in her frustration. “Oh hell, forget it, I’m glad you’re blind to whatever it is they apparently see or don’t see.”
“As in, for your sake, I could care less if you think I’m beautiful or hideous, that is hardly the point of our relationship.”
“Ah. Yes, you’re right.”
“Would you like some coffee? I’d like a cup, I’ll bring you some.”
Micah watched her hurry off, unable to contain his grin. He’d never seen her so flustered. What he’d give to feel what was going through her head in that moment.
I absolutely love this book. I just finished it the other day. She does have a way with words!! LOL!!!!
I smiled nervously back then watched him move with causal ease toward the kitchen. Never saw such a white man before. Not around here. I stared at the deep dimples on his lower back near his waist band. Heat pooled in my stomach and I real-ized I should follow him. Halfway there, I stopped. “You mind if I take my shoes off? Kinda sounds like I’m calling possums or somethin’.”
Before I could regret the stupid comment, his deep laughter strummed through me.
“You call possums?” He shot a glance at me with that sexy half grin.
Heat flooded my face. “Nah, not really.” I slid off my sneakers and scooted them to the side with a foot then entered the shoebox-sized kitchen, shaped like a U.
“I mean, no, of course not.” I waved a hand, coming to stand at the island for two in the center.
“It would totally be okay with me.” He set two red mugs on the island’s butcher block top and hit me with those eyes.
“Totally?” I managed to tease back. “Where you from anyway? You’re obviously not from around these parts.”
“Eh,” he shrugged, “here and there.”
I tore my eyes from his broad glowing chest and ran into his direct gaze. I quick-ly looked around the small kitchen. “Can’t believe what you’ve done to this place. Re-ally nice.”
He turned to the sink and my eyes swerved back to his body. I watched the beautiful phenomena of rippling muscles in his arms and back as he got the pot ready for fresh coffee. I forced my attention to the pot. “I love those aluminum drip pots.” I managed to keep my voice between high and low but I couldn’t manage keeping my eyes off his body.
He glanced over his shoulder and my cheeks burned at being caught gawking. Again.
Good grief. I scratched my cheek and stared at the copper pots hanging above the tiny island. “You got yourself some nice cookware there.” I nodded at them. “Do they actually work?”
He set the pot on the stove, turned on a low flame then headed toward me with that smile that could possibly mean he thought I was a fantastic idiot. But at least a fun one. My body gradually tensed as he drew closer, already resisting that gravitational pull he had about him. Lord, standing there like he didn’t affect me one bit was like holding up a mountain.
“I should get a shirt on.”
I choked out a gasp, horrified. Horrified that it was quite obvious to him how much he affected me. “Oh, pffft, not at all, you’re fine,” I said, making it clear that it was utterly unnecessary.
He grinned. “Well thank you.”
“I meant, I’m fine, as in, not bothered, it doesn’t bother me, I see men all the time like that around here, everybody goes around in the summer time without shirts.” I capped the lie with an overly exuberant laugh.
I met his teasing gaze and half grin. “You know what I mean.” My voice dropped to its usual low tenor, aka my strong voice.
“I’m Johnny.” He reached a hand out to me.
I tore my eyes from his and stared at his hand. I was suddenly very concerned over what touching this man would do to me. “Jewel.” I placed my hand in his.
My heart raced as he lifted it and pressed my knuckles to his soft, full lips. “Per-fect name.”
His hot breath and lips on my fingers went straight to all those womanly places that I’d barred every man from. I gripped his fingers, needing something to hold on to.
He eyed me with wonder.
I forced a disconnection, trying to appear unburned by his touch. But I failed miserably as I pulled back my hand with a series of embarrassing jerky hesitations. My lord, I’d said more without words than I could or wanted to explain, and yet felt the need to.
“Johnny, huh?” It came on a squeaky whisper.
“Yeah.” He lowered his head, and I glanced at him, trying to read his mind. He looked troubled, but about what and why, lord I wanted to know.
“Do you have a middle name, Jewel?”
He spot-lighted me with liquid sapphire and my mouth opened without speech. “Uh, well, yeah, everybody has a middle name.” I stroked my ponytail several times and tried to smile. “Pearl is mine. Jewel Pearl Harbor.” I gave a light laugh. “Momma and daddy never lacked a sense of humor.” I realized I cared way too much about what he thought about my stupid name. Of course his face would grow so darn serious again. And mysterious. “It’s uh, a family joke.” I took a deep breath, feeling the need to level this playing field. “What about you? What’s your middle name?”
He turned from the island and answered me with his delicious backside. “No middle name. Just Johnny Blue.”
I averted my gaze as he turned with the coffee pot, barely managing to not get caught lusting. I watched the coppery liquid pour into the red ceramic. “Johnny Blue? Well I think that’s a very nice name. Is that why your favorite color is blue?”
He only gave a soft smile, keeping his attention on the cups. “How do you know that?”
I tossed a glance at the art studio. “Well it’s pretty obvious in those pictures over there, I think. I love them—the colors I mean. And the pictures too, of course.”
He assaulted me with one of those electrical smiles while I’d bumbled out the words, turning up the voltage as each word passed my lips. Whether he liked what I said, or thought I was hilarious, I wasn’t sure, but more inclined to believe the worst.
He slowly slid my cup of coffee to me then went to the counter behind him and returned with a tray. I smiled at the two white glass canisters with tiny green dragons painted on them. Adorable. He set them on the island between us. “Cream and sugar?”
“I uh- yeah, why not.” I pulled the tray carefully toward me.
“Are you trying to quit?” His soft tone held humor.
I glanced from him to the canisters, picking up the tiny silver spoon that went with it. “Nah, I just…” I removed the lid to the sugar and scooped two in my cup, try-ing to think. “I normally drink it black, but, with dishes like this, I can’t resist.” I cleared my throat and picked up the creamer then promptly over-flowed my cup with it. “Oh lordy,” I whispered.
I looked around for a cloth and Johnny tossed me a napkin. I wiped it up, feeling like this whole thing was a long and painful audition that I was ruining. I gave a light laugh, bringing the mug of coffee to my lips. “I’ve always been a goofball.” And to prove my point, I dribbled coffee down my chin.
Johnny was just a watchin’ the whole damn show and tossed me another napkin.
I forced out more light laughter. “Might as well give me the whole stack, I’m likely to need it.”
He slid the wrought iron napkin holder closer and I shot a glance at him. “Just as you’re likely to not get many visitors like me, I’m likely to burn the place down.” Like-ly, likely, don’t you know any other words? I dabbed coffee off my chin and white t-shirt, then wiped the counter for extra measure all the while feeling the burn of those blue orbs on me.
“It ain’t nice to stare at the company, Johnny B.” I took another sip of coffee, be-ing extra careful while avoiding his gaze.
“You’re nice to stare at.”
The compliment undid the little composure I pretended to have and coffee sloshed out of my cup when I set it down too fast. “Might as well dump the whole cup on the counter and get it over with,” I mumbled, grabbing another napkin and shaking my head.
“Can I paint you?”
“Ohhhh my lord,” I breathed, fanning my face a little. “Paint me? Like with paint?” For some reason I thought he meant on my body, then it dawned on me he meant paint a picture of me. “Oh, I—I’ve never done anything like that.”
I looked at him, surprised.
“Well, I mean…” he looked down. “I haven’t’ in a very long time.”
That pressed my puzzle button. “Well why start now?”
His brows drew together briefly. “Yeah, you’re probably right, stupid idea.”
I immediately regretted my words. “Well, I mean, I wouldn’t call it stupid, I just ain’t never had nobody want to paint me, it’s kinda… I don’t know, embarrassing, I guess.” I stirred the little spoon in my cup loudly.
“Embarrassing?” Like he’d thought it was something else and had never considered that.
“Well yeah, I’m not used to people…you know…” I tapped the spoon rapidly on the edge of my cup then returned it to the tray, “staring at me.”
I lifted my cup and took a sip in the fat silence.
I was pretty sure that was relief I heard in that velvety voice of his. The idea that he might have his own inhibitions made me want to encourage him. “I ain’t never had nobody ask to paint me. But… if I was to be painted, I think you’d be a… I mean, you’re very nice and… it’s just a picture for crying out loud.” I laughed a little. “I’d love it if you painted me, why not. Only if you still want to, though.”
I worked up the nerve to look at him after several seconds of silence. Made no sense that I suddenly wanted to beg him to. But I did. Cause it felt like he’d offered me a ride and I’d turned it down, not realizing he was offering a ride to the moon.
He suddenly walked toward me and as the distance closed between us, my heart sped up. He stood at my left shoulder and all I could do was keep my palms firmly on the counter, waiting, holding my breath, wondering what on earth he might say or do.
My body tingled when he slid a finger along my face. Then spoke words that went further into my bones than words had a right to go. “I do want to paint you. You’re different.”
There was a raw need in his voice that lit a flame in me. A flame I had no idea how to control, didn’t want to. I couldn’t turn to him cause I could feel it. The insane urge to consume his lips right where he stood. Lord. How did this happen?
“Can I start tomorrow?” His voice was so damn calm! It was unfair.
My heart hammered my chest. Start? How long did it take? I nodded, only able to glance toward him, surely not at him. What must he be thinking? What a prude to be so undone over something so silly. It’s not like I was stripping naked.
My stomach jolted as naked bodies flashed in my mind, making lava leak from that volcano in my center. “I’d… I’d really like that.” And there it was, years of unmet need right there in my quiet answer. But all regret was erased when he whispered that thank you, next to my ear. I’d never heard such emotions mixed in a tone. Joy—mystery—passion—it was enough to make me swoon.
I suddenly knew right then and there. I would let that man paint me however he wanted or needed. Clothed, nude, standing on my head, it didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered was answering that need I’d heard in “I do want to paint you.” Because really, to my ears, it sounded like, I do need to paint you.
I followed his beautiful form as he went to the sink, turned, and placed both palms on the counter behind him. “What time would you like to come?”
I tucked hair behind my ear wondering why the word come suddenly took on an erotic meaning. “I get off work after supper time—eight o-clock. If you don’t mind workin’ evenin’s then…that works for me.”
He stirred his coffee then put his spoon in the sink next to him. “I love painting in the evening.”
I swallowed as every letter in his soft words slid through me and tickled places that had never been touched. Not like that.
“So it’s a date.” He gave me a sexy half smile before sipping his coffee, all while masturbating my soul with those clear blue eyes.
I focused on sipping my own coffee, wanting to vomit with excitement. “Yes, it sure is.”
I admit, I was skeptical at first – here is an author who is writing 188 short stories – maybe just “shorts” with 188 words in each. I was intrigued by the “catch”, and I got the book. How he managed to do what he did is almost mind-boggling, but I shan’t give anything away, other than to say READ THIS – you will be glad you did. It is truly amazing!!
Love me some Azure Boone books!! This one is free today – I have read it and it is hot!!
For your enjoyment
Cover song. So beautiful. Say something. The lyrics…..