Today we have the blog tour for J. Saman’s Catching Sin! We are so excited about this fantastic release—check it out and be sure to grab your copy today!
Title: Catching Sin
Author: J. Saman
Genre: Contemporary Romance, New Adult, Suspense
About Catching Sin:
Maddox must be willing to risk his life if he wants to save mine.
I was under the devil’s thumb with no end in sight.
A play thing. A toy. A treasure easily forgotten.
Until Maddox Sinclair stepped into my club and made me promises even my tattered heart couldn’t refuse.
Sexy, arrogant, strong and brave, he fears no one and fights for everyone.
I should know better than to trust him. Half the time we want to rip each other’s clothes off. The other half we’re at each other’s necks.
But my devil isn’t easily thwarted.
He started this game with a master plan–one that makes me his ultimate pawn.
Deals have been made. Lives are at stake.
And when he finally comes for me, there is no escape…
Grab your copy today!
“I like your place,” he muses appreciatively. “It’s cozy. Lived in.”
“Are those euphemisms for small and worn?” I jest.
“No. I mean it. I really like it. It’s not what I expected.”
I laugh a little at that. “And what did you expect?” Retrieving a glass from my cabinet, I turn on the tap and fill it up, but I can’t resist the pull for long and I turn back to face him.
“I don’t know,” he chuckles, rubbing his strong, lightly stubbled jaw. “Less books, maybe. Have you read all of these?” His gaze flickers to mine before returning to my living room, studying my ‘end tables.’ They’re stacks of hardcover books with a square piece of wood resting on top. He’s also eyeing my overflowing bookcase.
“Yes. Every year, the library gives away books they no longer need, and the Salvation Army does the same with books they’ve had for more than a year and can’t sell.”
“Wow,” he murmurs under his breath. “Some of these are textbooks.” He’s going through my bookshelf, his finger running along each spine. Thankfully, he’s not in my room or searching under my bed, because that’s where I keep my trashy, smut-filled romance books.
He eyes the pictures adorning my walls, things I put up ages ago when I had hope of experiencing them one day. Now, they just feel silly and exposing under his scrutiny. I can’t watch him catalogue my life any further.
Hoisting myself up onto my kitchen counter, I sit, staring out the window as the sun fully begins to set. The sunset in the desert is exquisite. Fairy pink and burnt orange and golden yellow. I hear him as he abandons my pictures and heads my way, my pulse climbing with each step he takes.
I don’t turn away from the sunset as he reaches me, his hips pressing into my knees as I sit on the counter before him. Lifting my water glass, he takes a small sip, setting it back down like we’ve known each other for ages. It’s so intimate. Intentionally done, I’d bet. I feel his heat pressing against mine. His cologne infiltrates my space. His fingers brush my collarbone, sweeping my hair back over my shoulders. A shudder rolls through me at his touch and I love it. I want to sink into it further. His touch. My reaction. The way this feels.
“Beautiful,” he whispers.
“Yes. It is.”
“I was talking about you.”
My head whips in his direction and he’s right there, inches from my face. My breath hitches, my lips part on a silent gasp.
“I don’t want lines.”
“I’m not giving you any. I swear, I’m not putting anything on. I asked you to dinner because you fascinate me in the best possible way. I want to get to know you. Simple as that.”
There is nothing simple about getting to know me.
“But . . .” I trail off, unsure how to do this with him, or what to say.
“I already told you, it’s not about him. I don’t care about him.”
I think those might be the sexiest words anyone has ever said to me. His blue eyes sparkle with his soft, gentle smile. Frozen in place, I watch as he leans in. I can’t let him kiss me, and yet I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.
His mouth meets the base of my neck, the same place his fingers just grazed. My eyes close as his wet lips taste my sensitive skin. I’m trembling, and I know he can feel it as he works his way up my neck, kissing my thrumming pulse.
I can’t. It’s too much. But I do. I suck in a rush of much-needed air and then gulp down another breath, greedy to taste more of him on my tongue. “Maddox,” I manage, my voice husky and not my own. “I . . . we—”
“Do you want me to stop?”
I nod my head but reply with, “No.”
About the Author
J. Saman loves all types of novels, but finds herself always going back to writing/reading romances. She’s addicted to Diet Coke and sour candy, and swears way too much. She’s an admitted lover of picking at old wounds, second chance romances, love triangles and the perfect amount of angst . She writes smart, strong women and sexy alpha (slightly nerdy) men who have a softer side.