Thursday 8 December 2016


All He Wants for Christmas 
by Elle Wright
An Edge of Scandal Novella
Forever Yours | Grand Central Publishing

Married by Christmas . . .

Morgan Smith is more than ready to settle down with the love of his life. He fought hard for Syd, and just thinking about calling her "Mrs. Smith" . . . man, he'd happily elope right now. But his bride wants a Christmas wedding, and he's not going to disappoint her. Nothing will stop him from meeting her at the end of that aisle-until one night changes everything.

Sydney Williams' world could not be more perfect: an amazing man, a beautiful daughter, and soon the wedding of her dreams. But a heart-stopping message in the middle of the night quickly turns her blue skies stormy. Now Morgan's in danger and the only Christmas miracle Syd wants is to hear his voice again . . .

A sexy Christmas novella in Elle Wright's Edge of Scandal series.

Other books in the Edge of Scandal series:
The Forbidden Man
His All Night
Her Kind of Man


Sydney gasped, then let out a tiny squeal. If she’d been standing, she would have probably done a little dance. “You’re so going to get it when you get here. You know I hate surprises. But I’ll be ready.”
“I’ll be there,” he said. “And, Sydney?”
Sydney swooned at his low tone. “Yes,” she whispered.
“I hope you don’t have anything planned for the morning, because I plan to have you preoccupied for hours. Love you.”
Before she could respond, she heard the click that signaled he’d hung up. She rubbed her hand over her hair. Brynn had spit up on her hair. As her fingers traveled down her cheek, she felt the crusted baby food that her daughter had coughed onto her face. If Morgan saw her like that, story time might be over.
Bolting into action, Syd kicked at the mass of covers on her bed. In her haste to get out of the bed, her foot got stuck in the thin sheet and she toppled over on the floor, hitting her elbow on the corner of the nightstand. Instead of swearing at the pain and the table, she suffered in silence for fear of waking the baby up.
She rubbed her arm and hobbled toward the bathroom. Ouch, that’s going to bruise.
After the quickest shower of her life, she emerged from the steaming enclosure and wrapped herself in a towel. At the mirror, she ran a comb through her curls and brushed her teeth.
Glancing at the clock in the bathroom, she saw that eight minutes had passed. He said naked. But she considered donning the skimpy piece of nothing she’d purchased at the store the other day. It would drive him crazy, and that’s exactly what she wanted.
She practically sprinted into the bedroom but stopped in her tracks upon seeing Morgan leaning against the dresser, arms folded across his chest. “Morgan,” she breathed.
His mouth turned up in a devilish grin as his gaze traveled from her face to her neck to her chest and down the length of her body. It was almost like he was touching her, fanning his fingers across her skin the way his hungry eyes took her in.
Sydney took a minute to check him out. He’d let his beard grow out a little, and the five o’clock shadow sent a surge of heat right to her core. He wore a pair of navy blue slacks and a dress shirt. The top button was open and the sleeves of his shirt were folded up to his elbows, giving her a glimpse of his muscular arms. The tattoo on his left arm peeked out from under the silk fabric. He looked damn good.
Her mouth fell open and she swallowed, gripping her towel. “You’re here,” she murmured, her voice strained.
With his eyes fixed on her mouth, he said, “You’re not naked.”
She let her towel fall to the floor with no hesitation. “I am now.” Slowly, she sauntered toward him, feeling brazen and a little crazy with need. She’d missed him, and seeing him standing before her made her want to grab him and hold on to him for eternity.
No words were necessary. Everything they needed to say, they said with their eyes, with the magnetic pull that seemed to take over whenever they were near each other. He brushed a finger down her cheek and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, jerking her to him. She gasped as he crushed her body against his, reveling in the feel of his hard chest against her soft breasts. He leaned down, rubbing his nose against her cheek, then lightly biting her jaw. Morgan trailed a line of kisses to her ear, pulling the lobe between his teeth.
“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he groaned, his breath hot in her ear.
“I can’t believe you still have on clothes,” she retorted, bringing her fingers up to his collar.

Born and raised in Southeast Michigan near Ann Arbor, Elle learned the importance of reading from her mother. It was also her mother who, later on in her life, gave Elle her first romance novel: Indigo by Beverly Jenkins. From that moment on, Elle became a fan of Ms. Jenkins for life and a lover of all things romance. An old journal she wrote back in college became her first book (which she still wants to publish one day).

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