One Night Only ($13.95, 220 pages, ISBN: 978-1-60381-276-4) is a contemporary romance by Ellen March about a young woman who takes refuge from a stalker on a Welsh stud farm whose heartbreaker owner wants nothing to do with her.
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“Ellen March did a wonderful job in telling this story with humour and witty comebacks. But she also shows the results of stalking, attempted rape, and panic attacks. This is a story about misleading perceptions and the results and how it affects a person.” Read more….
–Helen Williams for Fresh Fiction
Ellen March’s erotic romances pit gutsy heroines against stubborn alpha males and include a large dose of quirky British humor.
Madison has scores of male admirers, but she only wants one man: Rafe. And Rafe wishes she were dead. After all, she was driving the car in an accident that almost killed his sister Fiona. Rafe believes that Maddy is a self-centered, irresponsible, mouthy slut who has sex with every man she meets, and he is horrified when Fiona tells him she’s coming to stay at his stud ranch. Little does he know that she was chased away from the commune she recently called home by a stalker. With only an unloving, devil-may-care mother for family, Maddy has been forced from childhood to live by her wits. Now she has one goal: to convince Rafe, her secret crush, to make love to her. She doesn’t hold out much hope of success, considering the black cloud that has hung over her life, not to mention Rafe’s obvious contempt for her.
One night only. That’s all she asks.
Says Ellen, “We’ve all known women like Maddy, who never get a break, so much so that they don’t even bother complaining about their lives. Maddy is outwardly loud and snarky, but underneath all the bluster she’s a sweetheart. She asks little for herself and would do anything possible to protect her loved ones, animal or human. As a writer, I love being able to breathe life into a hard-luck case like Maddy and then give her the ending she deserves at long last.”
Ellen March and her husband live on top of a mountain in Wales, which is ideal in the summer but not so much in the winter months or when it rains. She has three grown children, one suicidal cat—it really does have nine lives—and three Alaskan Malamutes. One of her hobbies is showing and working them. Ellen’s first love, however, is reading and writing. Since childhood, she has devoured every romance and fantasy she can get her hands on and enjoys acting out her own fantasies in print. Her body of work includes erotic romance, psychological thrillers, and supernatural fantasies. Fanny Press has published four of her erotic romances and will be publishing more in 2015 and beyond. Click here to find Ellen online.
Keep reading for an excerpt:
Madison admired the large, L-shaped bathroom. It was tastefully decorated in shades of dark russet and palest green. She wondered if Rafe had designed it, but her money was on Fiona. The shower was snuggled at the end, hidden from sight. Unhooking Raymond, she left him to sniff around the strange room.
Flicking the switch, she stripped off, leaving her clothes in a pile on the floor. Madison stepped inside, luxuriating in the hot spray, the feel of the hot water spilling over her upturned face. She examined the various shower gels, massaging the suds into her glistening body. Her fingers slid across the scars that covered her stomach. The slight dent of the one that had almost killed her.
Cautiously, she let the water cascade over her head, gently washing it. Flicking the tap off, she pulled the doors open. Madison stepped out onto the cool tiled floor, and in a leisurely fashion, wiped her body dry. Wrapping her long hair up into the towel, she twisted it around her head in the shape of a turban.
“Will you be quiet?” Madison wondered why she bothered. He never listened, anyway.
She padded naked around the corner then stopped. She stared in horror at the sight of Rafe standing at the door.
For what seemed an eternity she stood poised, wondering if she’d conjured him up. She closed her eyes briefly then opened them again.
He was still there. He hadn’t moved. His gaze, hot and smouldering, burnt over her.
Finally she galvanised her legs into action and ran back around the corner, yelling, “Get out of here!” She was embarrassed that he’d caught her naked. Worse, he’d seen her scars. Shit. She wouldn’t have a hope in hell of getting him into bed now. “And don’t let the dog out!” she added, suddenly remembering Raymond.
Rafe looked at the dog, and grasping the handle, backed slowly out of the bathroom. His mind was full of her luscious body, how she’d looked. He’d drunk his fill, knowing now why he wanted her so much. He could feel himself hardening at the thought of sinking between her legs into her depths, hot and wet.
Then he frowned, wondering how she’d come by those scars across the base of her stomach.
He made a mental note to ask Fiona, although he wasn’t sure yet how he was going to explain how he’d seen them.