The I WANT MORRISON series will have four books total. Three novels will explore the love stories of the Morrison siblings: Jack, Chelsea, and Hayden. The fourth novel will be a spin-off novella about their close friends Grace and Meno.
Book 1 "Don't Let Him Go" is available now. Book 2 "Lost on the Road to Love" will be released March 14. Read an excerpt from each below.
“Why are your hands calloused?” I asked.
“I use them a lot,” he explained. “I do projects at the apartment complex, help out some buddies working to renovate other buildings, stuff like that.”
“Some women find a man that works with his hands to be sexy,” he said, rubbing his thumb along the inside of my wrist.
“And some women find a man in a suit sexy,” I retorted.
“Hmm. I bet I can guess which one you are, Candie.”
“Why do you call me Candie?”
“I like it. It suits you. And I like that I’m the only one who calls you that.”
He stopped on the path and cocked his head at me. “I’m not?”
“No. My dad calls me that. When you first did it, I thought maybe you knew him.”
“Hmm. Maybe I should stop then.”
For reasons I would probably never comprehend, I didn’t want him to. “Why?”
Suddenly, Jack pulled me into his arms and moved us both off the trail until my back was up against a giant tree. My head spun as I looked up at him, my breath shallow, my eyes wide.
“I don’t want you to think about your dad when you’re with me,” he said, lowering his head.
I put my hands on either side of his face. He was freshly shaven today, and his skin was deliciously smooth. “I don’t,” I told him.
“What about Charles?” I probed.
Her eyes snapped back to mine, and she grinned. “I admit I had a fling with Charles last year when I was in town on a shoot. But not this time. We just went out and had a drink. He has a girlfriend now. Besides, I wasn’t as interested this time.”
I suddenly felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Chelsea hadn’t actually been with anyone this entire time.
“Hmmm,” I mumbled, relaxing myself further. “Why not?”
“I don’t know.”
“What changed from last year that made you no longer interested?”
“Why the third degree about this?” She leaned toward me, and I leaned toward her. We sat on her bed, half-drunk, our faces maybe four or five inches from each other. I could feel how close she was to me.
“I’m curious,” I said softly, my gaze dancing between her eyes and her plump lips.
“He doesn’t do it for me anymore,” she said, her voice sounding low and hoarse.
“No?” I reached up and pulled the glasses off her face. I folded the arms in and set them beside me on the table without ever taking my eyes off her.
“No.” She was practically whispering now. “My tastes have changed.”