Excerpt and Giveaway: Mikalo's Grace by Syndra K. Shaw

We here at the Revolving Bookcase as pleased to be part of author Syndra K Shaw's blog tour to celebrate the upcoming release of her debut romance novel, Mikalo's Grace. I just got my hands on a copy and so far love it! Syndra has been generous enough to be giving away an ecopy to one lucky commenter - all you have to do is leave a comment at the end of this post, the winner will be announced Saturday, December 22nd. Good luck and enjoy the excerpt below :)

Mikalo's Grace
Syndra K Shaw
December 21, 2012

Link to book listing on Goodreads

blurb:

Burying her wounded heart in a successful career, Ronan Grace had all but given up on romance.  Then, over coffee, she glances up to discover a Greek god in grey wool.  Mikalo Delis.  Young, handsome, charming, hot.  And rich.  Very rich.

Over passionate kisses and blistering sex, they battle the past.  Struggling to forget, learning to forgive, eager for the future.  Together.

But when Mikalo considers returning to Greece, his soul yearning for the sun and sand and blue skies of home, Ronan wonders if their new love will be strong enough to endure.  And how much will she give up to be with the man who awakened her heart, taught her to trust, and showed her true love?

Excerpt: 

"You're very handsome," I said.

"Yes?"

"Yes!  You could be a model."

"No," he said, "I do not think so."

"I think you could," I answered.

"Me?  You would like to see me model?"

"Why not?"

He stopped, striking a silly pose, his hand cupping his chin, his face suddenly serious and pensive.

"Like this?" he asked.

And then he moved, quickly choosing another position, his face held open in a goofy grin, his eyes wide, as he pointed at something in the air, like those old Sears catalogue poses.

"Or this?"

I laughed.

"Yes, yes, yes," I finally said.  "I love it.  

"You could model underwear," I then said, the words rushing out before I could stop them.  I held my breath, hoping he didn't hear me.

"Ah, no, that would not work."

"Oh, I was just --"

"It does not work, underwear."

"It doesn't work.  What doesn't work?"

He shook his head.

"The underwear.  For me, it's no good."

He continued,

"It does not cover what it should cover."

"I see," I said, clearing my throat.

"Perhaps you need to wear boxers and not briefs," I then suggested.

"The tight ones?  No, no, no, no, no," he said, shaking his head, "that would kill me."

"Oh, so you're talking about boxers -- " I began.

"The loose ones -- " he interrupted.

"Yes --"

"Like old man swim trunks," he said.

"Yes, boxers."

"Yes," he replied, nodding.

"You wear boxers."

"No.  I tried.  But it was a joke.  I, how you say, I was lower than the boxers, than the bottom of the boxers, the material, and it was not a comfort."

Jesus Christ.

"The boxers did not do their job," he was saying, "so I had them fired."

"So, no underwear," I finally said, my voice quavering.

He nodded.

"No.  I am happy.  And below, I am happy.  And it is easier, yes?  To get undressed.  You just open the zip and they fall and there.  It is done  Easy."

We walked a few moments in silence.

"Still, you could model," I managed to say, my mouth watering as my mind wandered, the warmth, the wetness, below growing, the thump-thump-thump quiet, insistent, hungry ...

I needed to focus.

He spoke.

"You have no husband."

Ah, back to reality.

I shook my head.

"And no boyfriend."

Another shake of the head.

"Then you have lonely nights."

I walked, his arm around me, the dark expanse of Central Park across the street.  And then I nodded.  Shrugged.

He was right.

"Why no husband?" he suddenly asked.

It was my turn to raise my hand, stopping the conversation midstream.  The quiet gesture a definite end to a road I had no wish to walk right now.

He grew silent.

And then,

"I have lonely nights, too," he whispered.

Another shrug.

"But not now," I said, my hand reaching up to squeeze his.  "Right now we have this.  Right now, this moment, we have this walk, this night, you and your arm around me."

He glanced at me, a small smile on his lips.

"And it is good?" he asked.

"It's good.  Very good."

He stopped, turning to me, watching me, the light from the nearby streetlight shimmering in his dark eyes, the thick, black brows low.

And then he touched me, his large finger surprisingly gentle and soft as he stroked my cheek, his fingertip rising to my temple and then down past my ear, pausing as it rose, his hand cupping my chin, lifting my face to his.

He held me like this, his eyes on mine, his hand holding my chin, my heart in my throat.

And then he spoke, his voice soft and low.

"You are too beautiful for lonely nights, my Grace."

Don't forget to leave a comment below to enter for a chance to win an ecopy of the book!