<— Jeannine Colette’s latest (A Really Bad Idea) is GOING LIVE AT MIDNIGHT!!! Steamy and super-romantic and we have an exclusive excerpt so you can “taste-test” it. 😉
The author says:
A Really Bad Idea is a friends-to-lovers, secret-baby romance, but it’s also a medical drama!
While Meadow and her best friend, handsome cardiothoracic surgeon, Dr. Christian Gallagher, are secretly trying to have a baby, Meadow’s mother gets sick and Christian is the man who can save her. At the heart of this book is the essence of family, and the way that love is woven into our souls.
Here is a scene from the book that is romantic and steamy, the perfect climax at a point where don’t know what will happen to these friends, and the ones they love.
Exclusive Excerpt of A Really Bad Idea
I stay until Dad kicks me out at eleven. He says he has enough to worry about; he doesn’t need to add my sleeping in a wooden chair to the list. I relent and go home, hailing a cab.
Salvatore is at the door when I get to my building.
“How is your mother?” he asks as I walk in.
“Stable but good.” I reach inside my bag and take out a box of Good & Plenty.
He accepts it with a grin. “Going through a crazy time as you are, and you still think of an old man. Thank you for this.”
“You’re welcome. How’s Carol?”
“Good. Everyone is good. We’re keeping your mother in our prayers. Dr. Gallagher said he’s performing the surgery. You’re lucky to be friends with a renowned surgeon.”
I peculiarly look at him. “When did you talk to Christian?”
Salvatore hit the call button. “When he arrived tonight. He said he has your spare key. I assumed that was okay.” His face twists into a grimace as he realizes he might not have been allowed to do that.
I don’t let him fret one second. “That’s perfect. Thank you, Sal.”
The elevator doors open, and I step inside, wondering why Christian is at my apartment when he’s supposed to be studying for my mother’s surgery.
When I get to my floor, I walk to my door with trepidation, hoping he doesn’t have terrible news and wants to tell me in person. The plethora of things he could say run through my mind so fast that I chase them away just as quick. No reason to worry about things that might be said when I’ll know in a moment.
I open the front door and look inside. The dining room light is on. Christian is sitting at the head of the table with books opened, a legal pad in front of him, and a laptop screen illuminated with a video of a heart surgery playing.
He hits the space bar to stop the video and rises from the table when he sees me.
I drop my bag on the counter and walk over to him. He’s still wearing his slacks, but his button-down and tie are on the chair, leaving him in a white undershirt. His hair is loose and wavy from his hands running through it. With the haphazard way he’s dressed and undressed, he looks disarming.
“What are you doing?” I ask with my attention fixed on the table where he’s been working.
“Looking at your mom’s angiogram to make sure I have the best pathway to her valve. I hope it’s okay I’m here.”
There’s a mug of coffee on the table and a half-eaten carton of grapes next to his files, which are laid out in neat piles on the table. “Looks like you’ve found your new study spot.”
He laughs at the absurdity. “Yeah. I didn’t know if you were staying at the hospital all night, but I figured I’d work here in case you came back and needed me.”
He runs a hand along the back of his head and bashfully looks up at me. I smash my lips together and try to hide my smile.
My shoulders rise with the rush of endearment I feel toward this man. “You knew I needed you.”
Those reserved eyes turn hopeful. “Was I right?”
“You’re the only person I want to be with right now.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, Christian has his arms around me, cocooning me in. His hand grips the back of my hair, holding it tight, as I bury myself into his chest and find comfort in the warmth of his embrace. Gripping the back of his shirt, I pull him in until it feels like we are one.
I never want to let go.
Outside my window, the park is pitch-black. The streetlamps from the pathways shine, creating a swivel pattern. It looks like shooting stars coasting through the darkness. I make a silent wish on nonexistent stars.
“I went home, and it didn’t feel right,” he breathes into the top of my head. “I had no idea if I was making the right decision, coming here, but I’m glad I did.”
I look up into his magnetic eyes as they glaze over. “How did I get so lucky to have a best friend like you?”
His chest puffs out, the heat of his body radiating into mine. His mouth parts to speak, but he doesn’t say a word. His pupils dilate, and his hands firmly lay against the silk of my blouse. There’s an intensity in his stare. It’s severe and powerful, and it makes me nod my head ever so slightly, letting him know I’m feeling it, too.
He lowers his hands to the hem of my shirt and lifts it up over my shoulders.
I raise the white cotton tee off his chest and lace my fingers in the splattering of hair, feeling the pounding of his heart pumping against my palms. His fingers rise to my neck and gently press, and my pulse throbs against his skin.
His tongue skims his bottom lip just before he leans down and kisses me.
This kiss is different from all the kisses we’ve shared before. It’s not in desperation or even expectation. It’s not done in urgency or playfulness.
This kiss is sensual.
It’s full of longing and desire.
It’s a kiss of two people whose hearts are beating together as one, in sync, their rhythm never to be changed again.
Our hands move with the delicate touch of a dance. I sway mine low to undress him; his glide down the sides of my hips as he leaves me bare.
We make our way to the sofa where I guide him down and straddle him, making no attempt to move this forward.
His eyes, looking up into mine, are soulful and searching. His hands grip my head, delicate yet possessive. With an enchanting gaze, he looks like he has so many things to say, yet he says nothing at all.
I give him my words in silence.
Are we just friends? I ask him with the way my hand caresses his face.
He answers by leaning his head into my palm, breathing ever so softly despite his parted lips and longing pants. I try to inhale his words, but they’re so loud that I can’t understand them.
With a kiss to his cheek, I tell him I love his compassion.
With a kiss to his eyes, I tell him I love his ability to see the good.
With a kiss to his hand, I tell him I love his ability to heal.
With a kiss to his mouth, I tell him I love everything about him.
All the words I’m too afraid to say scream from my soul as I raise my hips and fall onto him.
He inhales sharply, and his arms grip me, holding me, pulling me in. He kisses me with every slow grind of my body against his.
Our foreheads fall against each other.
We inhale the pleasure.
We exhale the pain.
We make love with our eyes open.
We make love with our bodies tight.
We make love, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do anything but make love to this man for the rest of my life.