Waiting on Wednesday: One Classic Latin Lover, Please by Marcia Lynn McClure

Hosted by Breaking the Spine

So excited for this upcoming Marcia Lynn McClure holiday release One Classic Latin Lover, Please.

Book Excerpt:

“Now apparently your brother has a bridal shower gift for you, Tierney,” Tierney’s mother said, snapping her attention back to the festivities at hand.

Tierney smiled as she saw Aubrey and Tiffany pushing a very large box toward her. The box was on a roller platform and was wrapped in red shiny paper and embellished with wide, black velvet ribbon and a large black velvet bow. The box looked to be about seven feet tall and four feet wide, and Tierney giggled again, wondering what Alec could have sent her.

“There’s a card with it,” Tiffany said, offering a red envelope to Tierney.

“Read it out loud,” Aubrey suggested.

Tierney’s smile broadened as she read the front of the card aloud. “A special day demands a special gift…a gift sent with loving intent. Therefore, for you on your special day, I present to you…” Tierney paused long enough to open the card and then read, “One Classic Latin Lover with a very special message. I love you, baby sister. Alec.”

As fast as she could, Tierney tore the wrapping paper on the front of the tall package to reveal a plastic handle attached to the box with the words, Pull this, written nearby.

Pulling on the handle, however, Tierney gasped as the front of the box broke away to reveal Alec’s gift—one classic Latin lover!

There inside the large box stood a man—not a cardboard cutout man but a real man. And, oh, what a man it was! Tierney’s mouth hung agape as she studied the man standing in the box. He was literally tall, dark, and incredibly, incredibly handsome! Dressed in a high-end white shirt, black tuxedo, and black bow tie, the man owned black, loosely swept back, Antonio Banderas hair that gave him both the short-cropped look of a refined gentleman and yet the “just raked my fingers through my hair” appearance of a man who could seduce a woman with simply a smile. His short, dark whisker growth was perfectly manicured—a goatee and mustache, with a not-too-thin and not-too thick beard line that followed his perfect square jaw from his goateed chin to his side burns. His eyes were dark and smoldering—the perfect complement to his Latin complexion. His cheekbones were set high, and his nose was as straight a nose as Tierney had ever seen. Broad shoulders, long legs—the man was gorgeous!

“Hello, Tierney O’Brien,” the man said, stepping from the box to stand right in front of her. His voice was low and smooth like crème brûlée and sent goose bumps popping up all over Tierney’s arms.

He was so close to her, so close she could smell the faint scent of him—of some masculine shower gel or cologne—and it was overwhelming to Tierney’s senses. She began to take a step back, but the man reached out, taking hold of her arm, pulling her close to him and into ballroom dance position.

“I hear you tango,” he said.

Tierney nodded and managed to whisper, “A little.”

The man smiled, his perfect lips perfectly accenting his perfectly white teeth. “Well, then,” he said, and from somewhere the music began.



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