Sierra Christenson

I flicked my gaze up toward her, and she grinned down at me. She tipped the wine glass back and downed the entire contents in two gulps. Was she trying to get trashed?
Genevieve’s hand on the back of the chair slipped, her eyes widening as she began to fall.
I hadn’t moved that fast in ages.
I swooped in and wrapped my arm around her waist to hold her up. In doing so, though, the robe twisted in my grasp and opened further, Genevieve’s bralette the only thing standing in my way of seeing her beautiful body.
It took every ounce of willpower to drag my eyes back up to her face where she watched me carefully. There was a drunken sheen to her eyes, but her face was a beet red. It was more than the alcohol. I knew this because she averted her gaze and pressed her trembling lips together. She was embarrassed. It was fucking adorable.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed out.
“Maybe you’ve had enough for tonight.”
Genevieve nodded softly, still refusing to look at me.
“Maybe I’ll go to bed.”
Genevieve Blake was a well-known, almost famous, erotic romance author. She enjoyed meeting her fans and writing stories that made even her blush. What she hadn't planned on, though, was for a stalker to come out from the shadows and threaten her life. When the police can't do anything, she turns to Grim Security to protect her against the deranged lunatic. But who's going to protect her heart, and her body, from the intensity of Raphael Bard?