Kiss Me In Paris
When the city of love brings two lost souls together, only their darkest secrets can tear them apart.
Winter Deveaux tried love once. It didn’t end well. Unable to open herself up to another heartbreak, she hides in her romance novels as she struggles to break out as a real author. She thinks Paris holds the answer to a new start, but when her nightmare follows her across the world, she’s forced to face the darkness living like cancer inside her soul. If she doesn’t, she might miss her chance to become the kind of writer she’s always wanted to be. But more than that, she’ll miss out on the greatest love she’s ever known.
Cade Savage is heir to the largest ranching family in Texas. Part cowboy, part architect, Cade has his feet forever in two worlds. When he receives an acceptance letter from the school of his dreams, he must decide between family and destiny. But ghosts from his past still haunt him, and circumstances beyond his control may decide his fate.
When Winter and Cade meet, everything they believe about life, love and what it means to be happy is put to the test.
Will the magic of Paris pull these two lost souls together? Or will their darkest secrets tear them apart?
Genre: New Adult Contemporary Romance
Full length novel: 87, 000 words
Kiss Me in Paris is a standalone novel in the Kiss Me Series. Travel the world with the Deveaux sisters as they find love, and trouble, in all the right places.
Add it on Goodreads at: http://bit.ly/XPBKCZ
Luggage backs up, causing one bag to fall off the machine. Angry travelers glare at me, as if I’ve made it my mission in life to make them late. Only one person doesn’t make me feel like a total jerk. He looks like a cowboy with his wide-brimmed brown leather hat, pointy boots and belt buckle. I suck in a breath when we make eye contact, his blue eyes two shades darker than mine. This is the kind of man writers dedicate romance novels to. Broad chested with ropes of muscles under his shirt, strength earned from real work not a gym, skin sun-kissed and glowing. He smiles at me and my knees go weak.
Feeling the heat rush to my face, I nod my head in my most regal fashion and turn away as the scrawny 20-something guy working behind the x-ray machine asks me to follow him so he can inspect my bag.
He steps to the side and opens my red carry-on, shuffling through my iPad, a change of clothes and other staples I was told to always carry with me in case my luggage was ever lost. There are perks to being one of the youngest in a family of world travelers.
My jaw drops when he pulls out a gallon sized plastic baggie and dumps the contents—items I’ve never seen before in my life—onto the counter. Holding up a pair of red G-String panties with a matching bra, if that slip of silk can be called a bra, and a handful of—oh my God—condoms?
He smirks at me and reads aloud the note that’s in the baggie. “Winter, Have some fun this summer. Here’s a starter sex kit to help you out. All my love, your favorite cousin, Daring.”
I want to die.
I want the floor to open up and swallow me, or lightning to strike me dead.
I want them to arrest me, just so I can get away from the dozens of eyes taking in my humiliation.
I fight the urge to tell them I have a bomb, or maybe that I am the bomb. Or to tell them I’m a drug mule. Anything to divert attention from the most embarrassing moment of my entire life.
And then I remember the hot cowboy.
Who’s standing behind me.
Who heard and saw everything.
My cheeks, I can already feel, are a flaming red. I probably look like my head is about to explode. I wish it would, so I won’t have to live in this moment any longer.
An older woman, probably the supervisor, grabs the note and the panties from the jerk staring at me. “I think you’ve sufficiently searched this bag.” She nods sympathetically at me and shoves Daring’s gift back under my clothes, zipping my suitcase shut. “Sorry for the inconvenience, ma’am. You can take your belongings and head to your gate now.”
From Chapter 4: Cade
Kiss Me in Paris by Kimberly Kinrade & Dmytry Karpov
Paris—the city of artists and dreamers. Being here is the fulfillment of a lifelong dream. So why do I still feel so out of place?
I don’t belong in Texas, running my dad’s business. And if I don’t belong in the city, pursuing my career, then where do I belong? Where will I ever find the peace that’s been missing from my life for so long?
My dad’s voice echoes in my mind. “What’s bothering you, kid?” He always asked me that when I was young, and I never had an answer for him.
I still don’t.
The suitcase sits nearly empty on my bed, save for one last item. I pull out the envelope, weathered by years and tears but forever unopened. The familiar scrawl across the front, just the one word, Goodbye. I run my thumb along the seal, wondering, not for the first time, what words he could have written that would make a difference, that would make the ache of his loss easier to bear.
But I don’t open it. I’ll never open it. Instead I slip it into my pillow as memories of the past flood me.
“What’s bothering you, kid?” Dad’s voice whispers through me again. At least this time I have an answer, a way to act on the anger crashing through me.
I can’t go back and right the wrong done so long ago, but I can right a recent wrong, and dag nab it, will it feel good.
Pulling on my boots, hat on head, I lock up my room and seek the object of my righteous rage.
I pause, staring at the door to Winter’s room as if I could see through it. She and her roommate went out; I heard them leave. Her pale face and eyes the color of a frozen lake, haunt me. Eyes filled with tears when that asshole stepped on her small hand, so delicate. I held it as it turned blue, swelling in pain.
Pulling myself from her door, I hunt the hallway looking for Rodney. I don’t know what their history is, and I don’t care. No one deserves to be treated that way. I’ve seen guys like him before, known them all my life, and I’ve never backed down from putting jerks like him in their place.
I’m not about to start today.
It’s not because of the girl, I’m sure of that. She’s beautiful, sure. And funny, in an offhanded way. But that’s irrelevant. I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do.
I spot him just outside of our dorms, leaning against a tree. Or rather, pinning a girl against a tree as he does what I can only assume is his version of flirting.
The girl in question doesn’t appear to enjoy his attentions, if the bored droop to her face is any indication.
Rodney’s not a small guy, probably played football back home, but I’ve got several inches and a lot more hard muscle on my side.
I pull him from the girl, who looks wide-eyed at me before scampering off, and grab the front of his shirt, glaring down at him. “I don’t know why you like tormenting girls. I don’t even want to know. But you’ll leave Winter alone. Got it?”
My face is inches from his, close enough that I can smell the alcohol on his breath.
He laughs, spraying me with his saliva. “You think she doesn’t like having me around? Guess you don’t know what a slut she is.”
Growling, I slam him against the tree.
He groans, but offers another cocky grin. “If you want my advice, stay away. She’ll spread her legs easily enough, but you’ll regret ever sticking—“
I’m done listening.
I knee him in the groin. His mouth opens, a high-pitched yelp escaping as he collapses on the ground. “This is me politely telling you to back the hell off Winter and leave her alone.”
About Kimberly Kinrade and Dmytry Karpov
Dmytry and Kimberly are the husband and wife writing team behind the KISS ME Series, Eye of Newt, Sunrise and Nightfall, Wanderlust, and The Fallen Series.
Kimberly is the award-winning, bestselling author of the New Adult paranormal romance series The Seduced Saga, the YA paranormal thriller/romance The Forbidden Trilogy, and children’s fantasy series The Three Lost Kids.
Dmytry writes fantasy—be it urban, dark or epic—is a musical composer, pianist, and designs books covers (exclusively for his wife’s and their co-authored books).
They live with three little girls who think they’re ninja princesses with super powers and who are also showing a propensity for telling tall tales and using the written word to weave stories of wonder and magic.
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