| Excerpt: Sarah smoothed her straight blonde hair as she examined her reflection. Her hair was pulled back into a loose knot at the base of her head that left tendrils of dark gold falling in a disorderly frame about her face. She brushed the strands back out of her eyes and smiled. She could almost feel Mark’s hands cupping her cheeks as he gazed into her eyes. He’d smile that sweet smile of his and tenderly tuck the errant strands behind an ear. By the time he kissed her she’d have already begun to tremble. He almost seemed to enjoy when her hair fell into her face, as if he were secretly pleased to be able to offer such a tender and loving gesture. Tonight she wanted to give him what he seemed to enjoy. He had something special to talk to her about, or so he’d said two nights before when he’d left her at her door. He hadn’t come into her small townhouse as he had so many evenings before over the past three weeks they’d been dating. Somehow it didn’t seem that it could possibly have been only three weeks. No, it seemed more as if Mark had been in her life forever. The days when she couldn’t pick up her ringing cell phone and hear his voice, when she didn’t look up from her book in the quiet of her living room to see him, feel him holding her against his side as he watched the evening news or listened to the music that played softly in the back ground seemed a lifetime away. Somehow it didn’t seem that it could possibly have been only three weeks. No, it seemed more as if Mark had been in her life forever. The days when she couldn’t pick up her ringing cell phone and hear his voice, when she didn’t look up from her book in the quiet of her living room to see him, feel him holding her against his side as he watched the evening news or listened to the music that played softly in the back ground seemed a lifetime away. She smoothed down the dark emerald dress she wore. The halter bodice was not one she’d normally have selected, but her sister had been with her the day they saw it and had insisted she try it on. Once she had felt the soft fabric against her skin and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror it had been a sale. This was something else about Mark. Since he’d entered her life she heard the negative voices in her head less and less |
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often. The green of the soft silk pulled the green from her green-grey eyes making them seem
more than just the murky shade of in between that had always disappointed her when she looked
in the mirror. Her Nordic heritage should have given her sunny blonde hair and bright blue eyes,
instead she described her hair as “dirty blonde” and her eyes as “washed out, foggy green.”
A smile lit her face. No one had ever corrected her until Mark. She’d groaned at her appearance
and repeated her litany of complaints at the end of their first week together as she hurriedly pulled
her hair back into a tail while quickly glancing in the mirror on the visor of her car. Sitting in the
passenger’s seat, Mark had frowned seriously. “Is that what that mirror shows you?”
Sarah had arched a surprised brow at him and dryly observed that that was what all mirrors
showed her. Mark had snorted angrily, put his hands on her shoulders turned her to face him and
informed her she needed her eyes checked. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known,
Sarah-mine.” It had been the first time he’d spoken the endearment to her and it had touched her
so deeply she felt the tears burn the backs of her eyes. He’d pulled the clip from her hair and
tangled his fingers in it. “Your hair is like golden honey and your eyes, oh my sweet, your eyes are
like the greenest sea at sunrise before the harsh sun burns away the mist.” He’d kissed her then.
Kissed her as they sat in the driveway of her parents’ home. When she opened her eyes she’d
seen first his dark brown gaze burning into her, then her sister standing on the front porch with
wide eyes and an odd smile. She’d only been supposed to drop something off, but it had ended
up much different, it had ended with Mark meeting her family and charming them even more than
he had charmed her. Which was saying something.
Now the green dress seemed to help her see what Mark said he saw in her. At least she could
concede her eyes were passably pretty. And the empire waist was certainly forgiving of what her
mother, even now at twenty-eight, insisted on calling baby fat, what she called proof of her
addiction to all forms of chocolate and what Mark insisted on referring to as her “lush and
tantalizing curves.” The man was mad. No doubt about it, he was mad. Only it seemed that mostly
he was mad about her. She didn’t understand it, but she’d spent many a night lately, lying in the
warmth of his arms, thanking God for it.
The doorbell rang right on time, or rather it rang fifteen minutes early which Sarah had learned
constituted on time for Mark. She’d once asked him if he was ever late anywhere. He’d flashed her
that devastating smile of his and admitted that yes, he was occasionally late. “But never for you,
love. If I’m late some other male might come along and steal you away from me.” He’d lifted her
hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles. “And that would be my undoing. I’ve survived a great
deal in this world, but never could I survive losing you.” The lines should have seemed cheesy
and rehearsed, but they flowed from him with such conviction and sincerity that he either
deserved an Academy Award or he really meant the lyrical things he said.
Sarah hurried to the front door and pulled it open. He turned as she did and her breath caught in
her throat. Seeing him, especially if they’d been apart for a bit as they had been the last two days,
always had this effect on her. Hell, he stole her breath so often it was a wonder she hadn’t died of
asphyxiation.
And tonight was certainly no exception. He stood there on her stoop, his dark brown hair combed
back from his face and curling slightly at his collar. The sable eyes swept over her body and
returned to meet hers with a hunger that made the heat pool in the pit of her stomach. “Sarah,” he
whispered softly. He needn’t say anything else. The soft baritone of his voice was deepened even
further by the same something that made his sudden intake of breath audible to her.
And the sight of him robbed her of her ability to even do so much as utter his name. He was
dressed in a black Armani suit. She knew nothing of fashion. She was a scholar, a
biblioanthropologist, who knew more about the binding of ancient texts than designers. Such a
useful profession her mother often remarked just before she asked how things were going for
Sarah working at the local book store. No she didn’t understand fashion or glitz, but she’d seen
the labels in his jackets enough to know he turned to the designer almost exclusively for formal
and semi-formal wear. His tie hung untied around his neck giving him an rakish air and the jacket
contrasted sharply with the crisp white shirt, open enough at the neck to reveal the tanned skin
that beckoned her fingertips now even more so than when she lay with her head on his shoulder
and her palm pressed to his bare chest.
A flush filled her face and she felt the heat grow in her cheeks. She’d never been one to move
quickly, but with Mark everything had moved at supersonic speed. By this point in a relationship,
the few she’d had, she would still be hesitating about sleeping with the man and would feel guilty
for allowing him to reach second base.
She watched the smile sweep over those full lips and reveal the dimples that turned the perfect
face into that of naughty boy. There was only one word for him when he smiled. Cute. Yes he was
sexy, yes he was virile and masculine. But when those brown eyes shone over the sweet dimpled
cheeks, her heart wanted to hold him tight and make sure nothing ever removed that smile. He
was definitely adorable.
“For you,” he almost whispered and Sarah noted for the first time the flowers in his right hand.
She smiled broadly and stepped back from the door.
“Thank you,” she turned to him after shutting the door and reached for the flowers. They were
lovely. The bouquet was not exactly what the rule books said a man should bring on a date. He’d
brought her those on Valentine’s Day. As she’d arranged them they’d talked about flowers. He told
her about the Victorian traditions of flower language, that each flower had a meaning that could be
deciphered by an attentive admirer. It seemed not only the flower and the color that were
important, but even how the bloom was displayed held importance. He’d apologized for not
asking before, and inquired as to her favorites telling her a lot could be deciphered about a person
based on their favorite flowers. Mark regularly amazed her with the tidbits of information he knew.
History, culture, languages, so many things about him put him so far out of her league.
This cluster of calla lilies, chrysanthemums and gladiolas, all in a purest white, showed without a
doubt that he listened to her when she talked and that he cared about doing things that pleased
her. Her flushing deepened, and pleasing her was something he was very good at. She’d never
known a man who seemed so…er… devoted to pleasing a woman.
Holding the bouquet to her chest to hide the increase in her breathing from his penetrating gaze,
Sarah walked to the kitchen to retrieve a vase. She filled it with water and arranged the flowers
without a word. She could feel his presence in the room, but he too chose not to speak. When the
last bloom was in place she turned to find him leaned back against the small café table that sat in
the bay window. He was watching her and for the first time since she’d known him his gaze
seemed almost guarded, as if he didn’t want her to see what he was thinking.
Wanting to wipe away the look that almost frightened her, she boldly crossed to him and wrapped
her arms around his chest, laying her cheek on his shoulder. He was tall, at least three inches over
six feet she guessed since her own average height tucked her up under his chin. As he did now,
his arms enfolding her, he often lowered that chin to rest on the top of her head. The embrace was
one that made her feel completely encompassed by him, as if he held all of her cocooned in his
protection and warmth. “I did say thank you, didn’t I? They’re beautiful,” she whispered against
his throat.
“Yes, Sarah-mine, you said thank you,” his voice rumbled over her ears and down her nerve
endings causing her to shiver slightly. He pulled her tighter and laid his cheek against her hair.
“Should we be going?” she asked softly, feeling the heat of his body warming her. She turned her
face slightly and pressed her lips to his throat and felt the vibration as he murmured against her
skin.
“No, we have time,” he placed one finger beneath her chin and guided her to look up at him. His
smile made her heart race, accompanied as it was by the dark look in his eyes. She loved that
look. Something in her thrilled each time she saw this tell-tale sign of hunger in his face. A hunger
for her.
more than just the murky shade of in between that had always disappointed her when she looked
in the mirror. Her Nordic heritage should have given her sunny blonde hair and bright blue eyes,
instead she described her hair as “dirty blonde” and her eyes as “washed out, foggy green.”
A smile lit her face. No one had ever corrected her until Mark. She’d groaned at her appearance
and repeated her litany of complaints at the end of their first week together as she hurriedly pulled
her hair back into a tail while quickly glancing in the mirror on the visor of her car. Sitting in the
passenger’s seat, Mark had frowned seriously. “Is that what that mirror shows you?”
Sarah had arched a surprised brow at him and dryly observed that that was what all mirrors
showed her. Mark had snorted angrily, put his hands on her shoulders turned her to face him and
informed her she needed her eyes checked. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known,
Sarah-mine.” It had been the first time he’d spoken the endearment to her and it had touched her
so deeply she felt the tears burn the backs of her eyes. He’d pulled the clip from her hair and
tangled his fingers in it. “Your hair is like golden honey and your eyes, oh my sweet, your eyes are
like the greenest sea at sunrise before the harsh sun burns away the mist.” He’d kissed her then.
Kissed her as they sat in the driveway of her parents’ home. When she opened her eyes she’d
seen first his dark brown gaze burning into her, then her sister standing on the front porch with
wide eyes and an odd smile. She’d only been supposed to drop something off, but it had ended
up much different, it had ended with Mark meeting her family and charming them even more than
he had charmed her. Which was saying something.
Now the green dress seemed to help her see what Mark said he saw in her. At least she could
concede her eyes were passably pretty. And the empire waist was certainly forgiving of what her
mother, even now at twenty-eight, insisted on calling baby fat, what she called proof of her
addiction to all forms of chocolate and what Mark insisted on referring to as her “lush and
tantalizing curves.” The man was mad. No doubt about it, he was mad. Only it seemed that mostly
he was mad about her. She didn’t understand it, but she’d spent many a night lately, lying in the
warmth of his arms, thanking God for it.
The doorbell rang right on time, or rather it rang fifteen minutes early which Sarah had learned
constituted on time for Mark. She’d once asked him if he was ever late anywhere. He’d flashed her
that devastating smile of his and admitted that yes, he was occasionally late. “But never for you,
love. If I’m late some other male might come along and steal you away from me.” He’d lifted her
hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles. “And that would be my undoing. I’ve survived a great
deal in this world, but never could I survive losing you.” The lines should have seemed cheesy
and rehearsed, but they flowed from him with such conviction and sincerity that he either
deserved an Academy Award or he really meant the lyrical things he said.
Sarah hurried to the front door and pulled it open. He turned as she did and her breath caught in
her throat. Seeing him, especially if they’d been apart for a bit as they had been the last two days,
always had this effect on her. Hell, he stole her breath so often it was a wonder she hadn’t died of
asphyxiation.
And tonight was certainly no exception. He stood there on her stoop, his dark brown hair combed
back from his face and curling slightly at his collar. The sable eyes swept over her body and
returned to meet hers with a hunger that made the heat pool in the pit of her stomach. “Sarah,” he
whispered softly. He needn’t say anything else. The soft baritone of his voice was deepened even
further by the same something that made his sudden intake of breath audible to her.
And the sight of him robbed her of her ability to even do so much as utter his name. He was
dressed in a black Armani suit. She knew nothing of fashion. She was a scholar, a
biblioanthropologist, who knew more about the binding of ancient texts than designers. Such a
useful profession her mother often remarked just before she asked how things were going for
Sarah working at the local book store. No she didn’t understand fashion or glitz, but she’d seen
the labels in his jackets enough to know he turned to the designer almost exclusively for formal
and semi-formal wear. His tie hung untied around his neck giving him an rakish air and the jacket
contrasted sharply with the crisp white shirt, open enough at the neck to reveal the tanned skin
that beckoned her fingertips now even more so than when she lay with her head on his shoulder
and her palm pressed to his bare chest.
A flush filled her face and she felt the heat grow in her cheeks. She’d never been one to move
quickly, but with Mark everything had moved at supersonic speed. By this point in a relationship,
the few she’d had, she would still be hesitating about sleeping with the man and would feel guilty
for allowing him to reach second base.
She watched the smile sweep over those full lips and reveal the dimples that turned the perfect
face into that of naughty boy. There was only one word for him when he smiled. Cute. Yes he was
sexy, yes he was virile and masculine. But when those brown eyes shone over the sweet dimpled
cheeks, her heart wanted to hold him tight and make sure nothing ever removed that smile. He
was definitely adorable.
“For you,” he almost whispered and Sarah noted for the first time the flowers in his right hand.
She smiled broadly and stepped back from the door.
“Thank you,” she turned to him after shutting the door and reached for the flowers. They were
lovely. The bouquet was not exactly what the rule books said a man should bring on a date. He’d
brought her those on Valentine’s Day. As she’d arranged them they’d talked about flowers. He told
her about the Victorian traditions of flower language, that each flower had a meaning that could be
deciphered by an attentive admirer. It seemed not only the flower and the color that were
important, but even how the bloom was displayed held importance. He’d apologized for not
asking before, and inquired as to her favorites telling her a lot could be deciphered about a person
based on their favorite flowers. Mark regularly amazed her with the tidbits of information he knew.
History, culture, languages, so many things about him put him so far out of her league.
This cluster of calla lilies, chrysanthemums and gladiolas, all in a purest white, showed without a
doubt that he listened to her when she talked and that he cared about doing things that pleased
her. Her flushing deepened, and pleasing her was something he was very good at. She’d never
known a man who seemed so…er… devoted to pleasing a woman.
Holding the bouquet to her chest to hide the increase in her breathing from his penetrating gaze,
Sarah walked to the kitchen to retrieve a vase. She filled it with water and arranged the flowers
without a word. She could feel his presence in the room, but he too chose not to speak. When the
last bloom was in place she turned to find him leaned back against the small café table that sat in
the bay window. He was watching her and for the first time since she’d known him his gaze
seemed almost guarded, as if he didn’t want her to see what he was thinking.
Wanting to wipe away the look that almost frightened her, she boldly crossed to him and wrapped
her arms around his chest, laying her cheek on his shoulder. He was tall, at least three inches over
six feet she guessed since her own average height tucked her up under his chin. As he did now,
his arms enfolding her, he often lowered that chin to rest on the top of her head. The embrace was
one that made her feel completely encompassed by him, as if he held all of her cocooned in his
protection and warmth. “I did say thank you, didn’t I? They’re beautiful,” she whispered against
his throat.
“Yes, Sarah-mine, you said thank you,” his voice rumbled over her ears and down her nerve
endings causing her to shiver slightly. He pulled her tighter and laid his cheek against her hair.
“Should we be going?” she asked softly, feeling the heat of his body warming her. She turned her
face slightly and pressed her lips to his throat and felt the vibration as he murmured against her
skin.
“No, we have time,” he placed one finger beneath her chin and guided her to look up at him. His
smile made her heart race, accompanied as it was by the dark look in his eyes. She loved that
look. Something in her thrilled each time she saw this tell-tale sign of hunger in his face. A hunger
for her.
Praise for Mating Stone:
"...the men in this book are to die for...
Elyssa Edwards has done a great job with
Mating Stone. She has written a unique
shapeshifter story that any paranormal fan
will enjoy."
-Ashley, Fallen Angel Reviews
"Elyssa Edwards offers a erotic tale of
fantasy. Mating Stone is a very dark story.
Her approach to shapeshifters is unique."
-ReviewYourBook.com
"Mark Ursine and Sarah are well rounded
and enjoyable characters and you do find
yourself rooting for their seemingly
impossible relationship.
-Simply Romance Reviews
"Mating Stone... is a wonderful story with
humor and sensual love play. Elyssa
Edwards displays a very creative talent in
this surprise saga. Mark is every woman’s
dream man, caring, gorgeous and
considerate ...This is a remarkable read
that I enjoyed."
-Literary Nymph Reviews Only
"...the men in this book are to die for...
Elyssa Edwards has done a great job with
Mating Stone. She has written a unique
shapeshifter story that any paranormal fan
will enjoy."
-Ashley, Fallen Angel Reviews
"Elyssa Edwards offers a erotic tale of
fantasy. Mating Stone is a very dark story.
Her approach to shapeshifters is unique."
-ReviewYourBook.com
"Mark Ursine and Sarah are well rounded
and enjoyable characters and you do find
yourself rooting for their seemingly
impossible relationship.
-Simply Romance Reviews
"Mating Stone... is a wonderful story with
humor and sensual love play. Elyssa
Edwards displays a very creative talent in
this surprise saga. Mark is every woman’s
dream man, caring, gorgeous and
considerate ...This is a remarkable read
that I enjoyed."
-Literary Nymph Reviews Only
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