When movie-queen Lennox Cordova threatens to expose the past, superstar Heston Demming's life spirals into a whirlwind of danger, deceit—and murder? Will old secrets be unearthed and lives destroyed? Will unseen forces guide the destiny of the Demming family's entertainment dynasty?
Come join Heston, Poppy, and their children as they seek passion, artistic fulfillment, and spiritual awakening along the sunny shores of wealthy, glitzy, tropical Florida—Naples, South Beach, and the Florida Keys.
In this sequel to A CHANCE TO SAY YES, you'll discover romance, revenge—and redemption? And a rock-music legend to die for...
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Excerpt from A Wild Dream of Love by Tina Murray, PH. D., copyright, 2012;
page 22
Wild in an otherworldly trance, shaman Kipp danced in the zone. Dressed in tight black jeans and sleeveless leather vest, the tall, sinewy singer’s overt sensuality and craggy face held his worshippers spellbound. Rippling across the bicep of his right arm was his famous tattoo—planets revolving in a solar system surrounded by stars. Singing, he was a wormhole to the throbbing universe.
The anthem came to an abrupt halt, fizzling out in a sparkling light-show flurry. In the train-crash crescendo, Kipp thrust his pelvis repeatedly at the cheering crowd, until their annihilation was accomplished and the cacophony ceased. Drained and spent, he dropped limply to his knees and bowed humbly to the crowd. He hated that song now. He was glad to be done with it. Breathing slowly in and out, he felt an ominous current moving through the crowd. Lulled by lust, the rapt onlookers threatened to erupt in thunderous, random excess.
He knew what they wanted. Dripping sweat, he was too exhausted to resist. He stared out at the yearning throng. Why should they be satisfied just to ogle his wiggling ass? If they tore him limb from limb tonight, he would let them. He wanted them to.
Let’s get this over with.
Springing to his feet, he bowed again, this time deeply, from the waist, and rising in a flourish, bounded cavalierly across the stage, microphone in hand. A ripple of anticipation buoyed the crowd. They knew. As the final encore, he was about to sing his signature song. Don’t Die Wondering. What they didn’t know was that tonight would be the last time he would ever sing this or any other song.
Readying his instrument, he drew deep breaths, his hand pressed to his sleek, gently rounded abdomen. Sober, but fatigued and titillated, he ran his gaze across the volatile crowd swarming before him in the packed concert hall. Aroused, he willed his lean, muscular body to relax, but failed. Fans screamed as he pretended to unzip his black leather pants and massage his member.
“You need to calm down,” he teased into the microphone. He leered seductively at the restless audience. Lecherous shouts rang out. One last time, he felt his power surge...
LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK
Excerpt from A Wild Dream of Love by Tina Murray, PH. D., copyright, 2012;
page 22
Wild in an otherworldly trance, shaman Kipp danced in the zone. Dressed in tight black jeans and sleeveless leather vest, the tall, sinewy singer’s overt sensuality and craggy face held his worshippers spellbound. Rippling across the bicep of his right arm was his famous tattoo—planets revolving in a solar system surrounded by stars. Singing, he was a wormhole to the throbbing universe.
The anthem came to an abrupt halt, fizzling out in a sparkling light-show flurry. In the train-crash crescendo, Kipp thrust his pelvis repeatedly at the cheering crowd, until their annihilation was accomplished and the cacophony ceased. Drained and spent, he dropped limply to his knees and bowed humbly to the crowd. He hated that song now. He was glad to be done with it. Breathing slowly in and out, he felt an ominous current moving through the crowd. Lulled by lust, the rapt onlookers threatened to erupt in thunderous, random excess.
He knew what they wanted. Dripping sweat, he was too exhausted to resist. He stared out at the yearning throng. Why should they be satisfied just to ogle his wiggling ass? If they tore him limb from limb tonight, he would let them. He wanted them to.
Let’s get this over with.
Springing to his feet, he bowed again, this time deeply, from the waist, and rising in a flourish, bounded cavalierly across the stage, microphone in hand. A ripple of anticipation buoyed the crowd. They knew. As the final encore, he was about to sing his signature song. Don’t Die Wondering. What they didn’t know was that tonight would be the last time he would ever sing this or any other song.
Readying his instrument, he drew deep breaths, his hand pressed to his sleek, gently rounded abdomen. Sober, but fatigued and titillated, he ran his gaze across the volatile crowd swarming before him in the packed concert hall. Aroused, he willed his lean, muscular body to relax, but failed. Fans screamed as he pretended to unzip his black leather pants and massage his member.
“You need to calm down,” he teased into the microphone. He leered seductively at the restless audience. Lecherous shouts rang out. One last time, he felt his power surge...
LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK
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