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Tempted Paperback – June 26, 2012


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Product Details

  • Paperback: 400 pages
  • Publisher: Harlequin MIRA (June 26, 2012)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 0778315223
  • ISBN-13: 978-0778315223
  • Product Dimensions: 8.2 x 5.3 x 1.2 inches
  • Shipping Weight: 11.2 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
  • Average Customer Review: 3.9 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (155 customer reviews)
  • Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #575,978 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

Editorial Reviews

About the Author

Megan Hart is the award-winning and multi-published author of more than thirty novels, novellas and short stories. Her work has been published in almost every genre, including contemporary women\u2019s fiction, historical romance, romantic suspense and erotica. Megan lives in the deep, dark woods of Pennsylvania with her husband and children, and is currently working on her next novel for MIRA Books. You can contact Megan through her website at www.MeganHart.com.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.


Light and shadow painted him. On little cat feet, like the fog, I crept toward the bed. Tug-tugging, I slid the covers off to reveal his body.

I liked to watch him sleep, despite the way it sometimes made me want to pinch myself to prove I wasn't dreaming. That this was my husband, my house, my life. Our perfect life. That there were good things to be had in the world, and I had them.

James stirred without waking. I crept closer to stand over him. The sight of him, all long, muscled limbs and smooth, sun-burnished skin, curled my fingers in anticipation of touching him. I held off, not wanting to wake him. I wanted to watch him for a while.

Awake, James was rarely still. Only dreaming did he loosen, soften, melt. If it was harder to believe he belonged to me when he was sleeping, it was also easier to remember how much I loved him.

Oh, I played a good game of confidence. I wore the ring and answered to the name Mrs.James Kinney. I even had the driver's license and credit cards to prove I had the right to the name. Most of the time, our marriage was so matter-of-fact I couldn't have disbelieved it if I'd wanted to, not when it came time to do the laundry and buy groceries, or clean the toilets, when I packed his lunches or folded his socks before putting them away. Then our marriage was solid and substantial. Granite. But sometimes, like when I watched him sleeping, the rock turned out to be limestone, easily dissolved by the slow-dripping water of my doubts.

Sunshine filtered through the tree outside our window and dappled him in all the spots I wanted to kiss. The twin dark circles of his nipples, the ridges of his ribs made sharper as he flung a hand over his head, the soft patch of hair furring his belly and meshing with the thatch between his legs. Everything about him was long and lean. Hidden strength. James looked thin, sometimes even breakable, but underneath he was all muscle. He had large, callus-fingered hands, used to working but perfectly suited for playing, too.

I was more interested in the playing as I bent over him to blow a puff of breath across his lips. Fast as sin, he grabbed me. He could pin both my wrists with one hand, and he did, pulling me onto the bed and rolling on top of me. James settled between my thighs, the only thing between us the thin fabric of my summer-weight nightgown. He was already getting hard.

"What were you doing?"

"Watching you sleep."

James pushed my hands above my head, stretching me.

It hurt a little, but then that's what makes the pleasure so much sweeter. His free hand inched up the hem of my nightgown and found my bare thigh.

His fingertips grazed the curls between my legs as he spoke. "Why were you watching me sleep?"

"Because I like to," I told him just before his questing fingers made me inhale sharply.

"Do I want to know why you like to watch me sleep?" His grin tipped the corners of his mouth. Smug. His fingertip settled against me, but he didn't move it yet.

"Anne?"

I laughed. "No. Probably not."

"I didn't think so."

He lowered his mouth to mine but didn't kiss me. I craned my neck, seeking to meet his lips, but James kept them a breath apart. His finger began the slow circling he knew well would drive me crazy. I felt heat and hardness on my hip, but with my hands still held fast in his grip, I could only wiggle in protest.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you."

"Kiss me."

James had eyes of summer-sky blue, ringed with deep navy. The contrast could be startling. The dark fringe ofhis lashes swept down as his eyes narrowed. He licked his lips.

"Where?"

"Everywhere…." My reply trailed off into a sigh and then a startled gasp when he stroked me again.

"Here?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

I wouldn't, not at first, though I knew sooner or later he'd have me doing what he wanted. He always did. It helped that I usually wanted what he wanted me to want. We were well matched in that way.

James bit down into the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder. "Say it."

Instead, I writhed under his touch. His finger dipped inside me, then out, swirling gently when I wanted him to press harder. Teasing me.

"Anne," James said seriously. "Tell me you want me to lick your cunt."

I used to hate that word until I learned its power. It's what men call women who have bested them. It's what women call each other when we want to wound. Bitch has become something of a badge of pride, but cunt still sounds dirty and harsh, and it always will.

Unless we take it back.

I said what he wanted me to say. My voice was hoarse but not weak. I looked into my husband's eyes, gone dark with lust. "I want you to put your face between my legs and make me come."

For one moment, he didn't move. Against my hip, his heat and hardness shifted and grew. I saw the pulse beat in his throat. Then he blinked slowly, and the smug smile spread across his mouth. "I love it when you say that."

"I love it when you do it," I murmured.

Then there was no more talking, because he moved down my body and lifted my nightgown to put his mouth exactly where I told him I wanted it. He licked me for a long time, until I shuddered and cried out, and then he slid up again to fill me and fucked me until we both came with shouts that sounded like prayers.

The telephone's jangling interrupted the postcoital laziness to which we'd succumbed. The Sunday edition of the Sandusky Register, spread out on the bed, crinkled and rustled as James leaned over me to grab the phone from its cradle. I took the chance to lick his skin as he did, sneaking a nibble that made him jump and laugh as he answered.

"This better be good," he said into the phone.

A pause. I gave him a curious look over the lifestyles section. He was grinning.

"You son of a bitch!" James settled back against the headboard, his naked knees pulled up. "What are you doing? Where the hell are you?"

I tried catching his eye but the conversation had immersed him. James is an intense butterfly, flitting from focus to focus and giving each his undivided attention. It's flattering when it's you. Not so charming when it isn't.

"You lucky son of a bitch." James sounded almost envious, and my curiosity was piqued even more. Generally, James was the object of admiration among his peers, the one with the newest toys. "I thought you were in Singapore."

I knew, then, who had disrupted our Sunday afternoon lassitude. It had to be Alex Kennedy. I looked back to my paper, listening while James talked. There wasn't anything particularly interesting in the newspaper. I didn't really care about the latest summer fashion or what cars were trendy this year. I cared even less about burglaries and politics, however, so I scanned the columns of text and discovered I'd been ahead of my time in painting my bedroom pale melon the year before. Apparently it was the season's hot new color.

Listening to only one side of a conversation is like putting together a puzzle without looking at the picture on the box. I listened to James talking to his best friend from junior high school with only the barest comprehension and frame of reference to help me assemble the pieces. I knew my husband as well and intimately as any one person can know another, but I didn't know Alex at all.

"Yeah, yeah. Of course you did. You always do."

The keen admiration was back, along with an eagerness new to me. I glanced at James. His face was alight with glee and something else. Something almost poignant. Despite having what could be a somewhat narrow focus on his own priorities, James was unafraid to be happy for someone else's fortune. He was, however, rarely impressed. Or intimidated. Now he looked a bit of both, and I forgot about the vapidity of pale melon altogether to listen to him speak.

"Ah, get out, man, you'd rule the fucking world if you wanted."

I blinked. The sincere, almost puppyish tone was as new to me as the look on his face. This was startling. A bit disturbing. It was the way a boy speaks to a woman he's convinced he loves, even though he knows she'll never give him a second look.

"Yeah, same here." Laughter, low and somewhat secret, crept out of him. Not his usual guffaw. "Fucking-A man, that's great. I'm glad to hear it."

Another pause while he listened. I watched him rub the curving white scar just above his heart, his fingers tracing the line of it, over and over, absently. I'd seen him do that before, rubbing that scar like a talisman when he was tired or upset or excited. Sometimes it was brief, a passing touch like he was flicking a crumb from his shirt. Other times, like this, the stroke-stroke of his fingers took on an almost hypnotic pace. I could be mesmerized watching James run his fingers along that scar, which sometimes looks like a half-moon, or a bite, or a frown or a rainbow.

James's brow creased. "No. Really? What were they thinking? That sucks, Alex. Really fucking sucks. Fuck, man, I'm sorry."

From elation to sorrow in half a second. This too was unusual from my husband, who might move easily from focus to focus but always managed to maintain his emotional stability. His syntax had changed during his conversation, reverting a little. I'm no prude about bad language, but he was saying fuck an awful lot.

In the next instant his face brightened. He sat up, bent knees going straight. The sunshine of his smile burst from behind the storm clouds of a moment before.

"Yeah? Right on! Fucking-A! You got it, man! That's fan-fucking-tastic!"

At this...

More About the Author

I was born and then I lived a while and I did some stuff. Then I did some things and whatnot. Now, I mostly write books. You can find out more about me at my website, www.meganhart.com, my blog: www.readinbed.net, follow me on Twitter at www.twitter.com/megan_hart or friend me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/megan.hart.

Customer Reviews

I felt as if I developed relationships with each character!!!
Taylor
I think a lot of people don't like this book because of the ending and it wasn't that I didn't like the ending it was just the ending was to real life for me.
isitfiveo'clockyet
This book has lots of hot sex and romance in it....Must read.
Debra

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

86 of 90 people found the following review helpful By Cherise Everhard VINE VOICE on April 3, 2008
Format: Paperback
Anne and James have what by all definitions is a good marriage. James and Alex have been best friends since boyhood. But Alex and Anne have never met due to a falling out that the men had in college and the fact that Alex has live overseas all these years. Anne is not familiar with all the elements that make up James and Alex's friendship and it's a mystery she has never cared to explore. Then Alex phones and James invites him to stay for the summer.

Alex takes Anne's breath away with his looks and wins her over with his personality. What starts as an easy friendship between Anne and Alex, turns into an innocent flirtation, then more. Then one night the three of them decide to take their relationship to the next level and give into the sexual tension that has been filling the air. The three of them take each other to bed, one night then turns into one summer.

A normally monogamous couple, Anne and James choose to give into their desires for a summer of sex. They choose to let fantasy become reality. But what is supposed to be a summer of mindless passion, no strings attached, gets complicated as emotions and hearts become involved and feelings change.

I liked Anne, James and Alex, I liked them separately and I liked the three of them together. I like Anne and James. I liked Anne and Alex. But I hated James and Alex. When it was just the two of them they reverted to adolescent behavior I couldn't stand. They were two different people together and though they enjoyed each other's company it was easy to see no one else would. I guess that's the whole point; how we are different things to different people, multifaceted creatures. The other point would be the fact that there is no such thing as 'no strings attached.
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67 of 73 people found the following review helpful By Scott Sherman VINE VOICE on May 8, 2008
Format: Paperback Verified Purchase
Early in Tempted, while making love with her husband, the heroine, Anne, marvels how he touches her in just the right way. Of course, he has it easy. "...I usually wanted what he wanted me to want," she explains.

The degree to which this is true - how much Anne is willing to buy into her husband's choices for her - forms the main conflict in this involving and steamy romantic novel.

Anne's capacity to accept her husband's desires, as well as her own, are tested when he introduces her to his long-missing boyhood friend, Alex. From the first time she hears her husband, James, on the phone with Alex, Anne is suspicious of their relationship. There's an intimacy there, an undercurrent of shared secrets, a flirtatiousness, maybe a submissiveness....she can't put her finger on it, but something isn't right.

When Anne finally meets the mysterious Alex, her curiosity and concern are quickly intermingled with attraction and desire. Alex is one fine man: charming, handsome and, as the Aussies say, dead-sexy. .

Soon, it becomes clear that James wants Alex involved with their marriage in a manner that would surely get them on the Jerry Springer Show, should they decide to take their arrangement public. But why? What happened between Alex and James all those years ago?

Moreover, what does Anne want now? A chance to be serviced by two eager lovers? Alex all to herself? Her life with James back to the way it was? Or something else?

(And don't the two names - Alex and Anne - sound as if they belong together? Or is the assonance merely reflective of James's desire to replace Alex with the next-best thing? Hmmmmm....)

As a gay man, I was concerned about Tempted.
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32 of 37 people found the following review helpful By Tracy Vest VINE VOICE on December 26, 2007
Format: Paperback Verified Purchase
Anne has always felt like she has be the perfect sister, daughter, and wife. With a sexy and attentive husband and a beautiful house on the lake, she should be happy, but something is off. A phone call from her husband's best friend Alex brings him into their home and lives, and Anne is worried about her growing attraction to the man that her husband's family hates, and who had a falling out with her husband that they won't discuss (and only patched up a decade later when she extended the olive branch and invited Alex to their wedding). Alex could not be more different than her husband James, but as she spends more time with Alex, feelings she's not ready to deal with emerge, and she's drawn to understanding the tumultuous past these men share. When the two become a threesome, their lives will be inexplicably altered forever, as they test the boundaries of their marriage.

Hart once again pushes the envelope; as always with a Hart novel, the reader gets an intriguing plot with the steam. With her portrayal of the tortured Anne, Hart perfectly captures the spirit of a woman who's not sure she belives in a happily ever after and not sure if she wants to have a family due to the turmoil she grew up around. She has to contend with a lot including an alcoholic father, a mother who doesn't know how to follow through, three sisters with their own myriad of problems, and an interfering mother-in-law. She provides each with a distinct personality and voice, and has the reader on a roller coaster ride to see where Anne's indecision will take her. It's a well written erotic novel with a plot (eroplotica), but I was a little disappointed with the ending. My favorite novel by Hart is still "Broken," which turned her into an automatic buy for me! She simply cannot write quickly enough!
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