Moment of Silence Synopsis:
When charming, sexy Quinn Fitzpatrick begins work at the shelter, Jason falls hard and fast. Quinn is tall, blond, funny—damn near perfect. Only if Quinn’s gay, even he doesn't seem to know it. If he does, he's not telling anyone. And he's about one ceremony away from becoming a Catholic priest.
Long hours of work turn to long nights of talking and laughter, and Jason dares to hope this time he's falling for the right guy. But Quinn's got a past to deal with and major decisions to make about his future. When Quinn leaves for a silent retreat, Jason knows the silence may change everything.
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EXCERPT
When
a slower song came on, I took that as my cue to get out of the makeshift
dance-floor zone. “I’m gonna go check the drink situation.”
I
made my way toward the kitchen, still unable to see Quinn anywhere. How many people did we invite to this thing?
The
pitchers on the counter were nearly empty, so I opened the fridge to get out
some more mixers.
“Need
a hand?” Quinn’s voice was right behind me, close enough that I could feel his
breath against my neck.
I
couldn’t keep the grin off my face. “Sure. You any good with a blender?”
“I’m
Irish. Priest and bartender have always been my top two career choices.”
I
laughed. He sure seemed to be in a good mood. I wondered how much of that was
because of all the flirting Muriel had done. Everyone liked to be flirted with.
I didn’t care. I was just glad he was finally talking to me instead. How
pathetic was that? An apartment full of people, a hot guy wanting to dance with
me, and the highlight of my evening was playing happy hostess mixing drinks in
the kitchen with someone who probably had more romantic interest in the toaster
than he did in me. Didn’t keep me from grinning like an idiot at everything
Quinn said. Or from inhaling his freaky-good scent when he leaned past me to
grab a bag of limes. Nutmeg? Oranges? Whatever the fuck it was that he smelled
like once again drew me in, wrapping me in its mystique. I wanted to breathe it
in forever. Study it. Analyze it. Shit, I’d have tried to write a song about it
if given half the chance.
You’re losing it.
Correction.
Past tense. I’d lost it the day I met Quinn.
Karen Stivali Bio:
Karen Stivali is a prolific writer, compulsive baker and chocoholic with a penchant for books, movies, and fictional British men. She's also the multiple award-winning author of contemporary and erotic romances. She writes novels about love...like real life, only hotter.Links:
Website
Goodreads
E-mail: karenstivali@gmail.com/
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