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“Ann Cory enthralls, delights, and
overwhelms
with sensuality that is scorching.”
TwoLips Reviews
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Booklist
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Also available in ebook
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The Best of Torrid Teasers Vol. 1
Whiskey Creek
Press Torrid
Electronic ISBN: 10 digit -
1-59374-867-1
Print ISBN: 10 digit - 1-59374-866-3
Genre: Torrid Romance
Format: e-Book &Trade Paperback
Collection of
erotic romance stories from ten authors, including Ann
Cory’s story, Snowbound
Snowbound by Ann Cory
Erotic romance writer Emily is sent to a secluded cabin
and into the arms of shy, yet rugged, Heath. |
Reviews
~~ Coming Soon
~~
Excerpt
Emily tightened
her bootlaces, ignoring the numbness setting into her fingers. It
didn’t seem to matter which direction she walked, she was hopelessly
lost. Looking behind her, the once present footprints were already
gone, quickly covered over by a layer of fresh snow. The clothing
she’d worn hadn’t done a thing for her in staying warm and she
wouldn’t be surprised if she froze to death. She bit her lip and
braved the storm, hoping eventually she’d find some decent shelter.
As she clambered through the snow, her negative internal dialogue
kicked in and reminded her how stupid she had been to think roughing
it in a cabin for two weeks in winter would be the perfect way to
finish her novel. Her publisher had talked her into taking a
vacation for a change of scenery and to clear her mind. With a
deadline approaching, she needed complete concentration to deliver
the next novel in the series. Reluctantly, Emily gave in and packed
her bags.
Her stomach gurgled for the umpteenth time and she desperately
wished for a French vanilla cappuccino, or anything to warm her
insides.
Now thanks to her inexperience and nonexistent sense of direction,
she was lost in the middle of a snowstorm, cold and hungry.
A distinct smell traveled along with a powerful gust of wind that
nearly toppled her over. It was the scent of wood, herbs, and if she
wasn’t mistaken, lamb. She followed the sumptuous aroma until she
came to cabin, the first one she’d seen, complete with rows of logs
all cut the same length. If this was a mirage, it was a damn fine
one.
Her legs were ready to give out, but she made her way to the door,
the powdery snow crunching loudly beneath her highly impractical
boots. Forcing her hand into a fist, she pounded against the
battered wood and hoped someone was home.
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