Ancient History

Antiquities expert Molly Rourke’s life changed five years ago when she met and quickly married Dr. Scott Sheridan, professor of American history. It was then she discovered her uncanny ability to know the history of a building simply by entering it. She descended from a long line of mystics, who’d come into their own talents the moment they’d found utter fulfillment—usually coinciding with meeting Mr. Right. Scott fell hook, line, and sinker for Molly, and he didn’t waste time reeling her in. Yet when she began sprouting facts she inexplicably knew about historical Virginia homes, he realized he had no choice but to leave her, if he expected to keep his family’s long-buried secrets. If she passed through the doors of Honey Hill, his childhood home, she’d know the entire, gruesome tale of his past, and would surely leave him as a result. Using the discovery of an allegedly historical diary as an excuse, he floated out of her life as quickly as he’d entered it. Now, when faced with the chance to refurbish the second and third floors of Monticello, Scott treks to Parker’s Landing, Illinois, to request Molly’s help. If anyone can determine Thomas Jefferson’s mysterious intentions for the dome room, Molly can with her sixth sense. But in their quest to win the opportunity of a lifetime, will her eerie ability uncover secrets at Honey Hill? Scott’s academic rival and former lover, Professor Wilkinson of the University of Virginia, is hell bent on making sure ghosts of the past interfere with their task at hand...but Molly has fate on her side—as well as a family with a talent for the unexplained. Molly and Scott may find themselves closer than they imagined possible. Then again, they may succumb to fears the ghosts have instilled in each of them...   PURCHASE Ancient History HERE: http://www.amberquill.com/AmberHeat/AncientHistory.html ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

ANCIENT HISTORY By   Penny Dawn     …He reached for her, gently pulling her by the arm, struggling to make—and keep—eye contact. “I leave these doors open for a reason, Nathaniel Scott Sheridan, the Fourth”— He pinned her wrists to the doors and drew in a nose full of lilac. —“and I like them open. This is my—” He kissed her words away, imprisoning her against the ornately carved wood. “Yeah, well, I like them closed,” he said against her lips. She gasped into his mouth—“You son of a…”—kissing him in return. One long leg wrapped around him, pulling him closer still, pressing her pelvis to his hardening sex. Damn, she felt good. And he needed to feel more. He released her wrists and trailed his hand along the leg enfolding him. With gentle pressure, he eased it higher and higher, resting her ankle on his shoulder. He could feel all of her now. The breasts that filled not more than his palms. The nipples he’d once drizzled in hot fudge. The flat stomach he’d taken great pleasure in navigating with his tongue. The opening between her thighs and the hidden button he knew how to push until her eyes welled with tears of pleasure. His hands wandered, feeling every inch of her body, only the thin material of a dancer’s garment standing in his way. He caressed his way to the back of the leotard and pulled her a fraction of an inch off the door, his fingers sauntering up her strong back. Did she still purr like a kitten with the slightest caress up her spine? A throaty sigh against his lips confirmed his musings. Some things—like her last name—had changed over the past five years. But he suspected those primal sounds would remain with her always. He drew a line along the scoop neck of the leotard with a sudden urge to rip it from her body and feel her naked flesh, to give her the orgasm he’d been dreaming of since he’d left her standing at those intriguing blue windows so many years ago. Her muscled rear tensed beneath his squeezing fingers, making him even more aware of her strength, her definition, and the fact she wasn’t wearing panties. Oh, Lord. Such a beautiful woman. And he had her up against the door, legs in a vertical split and her body encapsulated with his hands like bookends. “Molly.” Her eyes flickered open, steam exuding from her split-second stare, before falling closed again with his next kiss. The thin garment did little to hide her every curve, but revealing as it was, it stood like a fortress between them, his hands no match for its guard. “I can’t find an opening anywhere in this damn thing.”