By Phillipa.Ashley On May 24 2012, 12:51 am
Finally, after the coldest spring on record in the UK, we have some sun and warmth. Maybe that means I can pack away my winter outfits and get out the shorts. If the heat lasts, it's come just in time for the Jubilee holiday next weekend, which celebrates HM The Queen's 60th anniversary on the throne of the UK.
Do you think the weather and Her Majesty knew that my hot romance, Fever Cure, was out in print during Jubilee week?
Set in London, Fever Cure is about the love affair between two wary but very passionate people. Keira and Tom embark on a steamy relationship after Keira drops her knickers in front of Tom at a wedding (in the nicest possible way.) Trying to resist each other is impossible, their connection is so hot!
Neither expects their sizzling fling to go anywhere because Tom is only in London for a short time before he heads off to the jungles of Papua New Guinea to carry on his work as a doctor. It's clear to Keira that he's hiding some painful scars, physically and emotionally. After a bad experience with her ex, she's running scared of any relationship, especially not one with a damaged, intense guy like Tom – even if he is the hottest man on the planet, a doctor and the son of an earl.
But staying out of love is also impossible and as the cover line says: The road to heartbreak is paved with honorable intentions…
Here's an excerpt:
Copyright © 2011 Phillipa Ashley
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication
“Is this what you’re looking for?”
Keira Grayson heard the man’s voice and knew what it meant without having to look. Even though she was crouched down, rooting among the fallen leaves by the notice board, she knew what he had in his hand. Not the pants, she pleaded silently, please let it not be the pants.
“They are yours, then?”
That voice again. It was two parts James Bond to one part Royal Shakespeare Company, and she just knew that this was going to be excruciating. Wincing as her thighs protested, she began to push herself to her feet. Goose bumps dimpled her arms as the wind whipped across the church steps. Her fingers were numb, and only her face felt warm and glowing.
“Forgive me for the intrusion, but do you need any help getting up?”
“I’m fine. Thanks. Really.”
Keira turned like a snail, trying to put off the moment she had to face the owner of that voice as long as possible. It was just what she didn’t need when she was late for the Wedding of the Century. Then again, it was a tiny humiliation compared to the way the year had turned out so far. What was losing your knickers in front of a handsome stranger compared to all that? She stuck on a smile, but her heart still pounded as she saw the stranger who’d picked up her thong from the church steps. Why couldn’t he be some harmless old gentleman with weak eyesight? Why did he have to be tall and dark and totally gorgeous?
He also had very dark blue eyes, a lovely natural tan (most likely from wintering in the Caribbean, like you do when you have a cut-glass accent like that) and an interesting nose. It would have been a boringly straight nose, but it had definitely seen some action at some point. Keira had seen similar noses before, but she doubted if Mr. Scarily Handsome’s had been damaged in a gang fight or “a bit of bovver down the boozer”, as her next-door neighbour liked to put it.
She doubted if Mr. Scarily Handsome had ever been in the boozer in his life. He looked made for sipping a single malt in some tweedy pub or propping up his college bar with a pint of real ale. It didn’t stop him from being hot, though, and right now he was gazing down at her with a look that flirted between amusement and politeness.
“If you aren’t sure,” he went on, “perhaps it would be best if I kept hold of it? We wouldn’t want the bride to find it here on the steps, would we?”
Keira was torn between curtseying and melting in a pool of drool. She went for the middle ground as usual: polite and friendly. Even her mum would have been proud of her. “No, er… We wouldn’t, and it does, um, appear to be mine. It was in my handbag, you see, it’s so small, the bag, that is, and there’s hardly any room for a mobile, and I was looking for my lipstick and…”
“…it just fell out?” he said, like a teacher who’d found her up to no good behind the bike sheds. Not that Victoria Lane Primary had bike sheds since a disaffected ex-pupil had set fire to them. Not that many of the kids had bikes. Whatever, thought Keira. Mr. Scarily Handsome hadn’t been near Victoria Lane; she’d have bet her gas bill on that.
He managed a small smile, his eyes doing that sexy crinkly thing at the corners. Keira’s stomach did a sexy crinkly thing too, which annoyed her immensely.
“Ah.” As he held out his finger, the thong wiggled tantalizingly and her cheeks heated up again.
“Thanks,” she said, holding out her hand to take her knickers off the cheeky sod.
Her heart skipped a long, slow beat, and it was all she could do not to stare. It was his hands. Up close, she could see the myriad of tiny scars dusting his fingers and knuckles, like the sprinkles on a child’s cupcake. She dragged her gaze upward to his eyes. Dark blue, they were, like the indigo at the end of the rainbow, and right now they were looking puzzled. She felt a blush of shame flame her cheeks, and she smiled reassuringly.
“Is there anything wrong?”
She shook her head and gave him an even bigger smile. He must think she was a grinning idiot, but it didn’t matter. He was probably self-conscious enough without her making it worse, and besides, everyone had scars. It’s just that hers were buried deep inside.