Title: ANYTHING BUT LOVE
Author: DALIA DUPRIS
Genre: CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE
Book Blurb:
Known as the anything but love girl, Morgan Hart has two passions, travelling and having fun. After reassuring her French lover, Marcel, that their relationship will resume unchanged when she returns, she’s ready to begin her Cape Town adventure, only to find that her friend Amber is a no-show at the airport, and Morgan’s stuck with having to travel solo, that is, until she falls into the lap of widowed single father, Dakar Ngosi, whose good looks and charm have her questioning her resolve to living life unattached and carefree.
Dr. Ngosi is beyond annoyed when a seemingly inebriated Morgan slumps down beside him in the airport lounge where he’s waiting with his sister for their flight. When his sister volunteers him to show the lovely American the sites of their country, his irritation grows, but he soon discovers that Morgan is as enticing as she is beautiful, and he must decide if he’ll stick to his vow to never love again or pursue the American woman whose captured his heart.
Excerpt:
Something in my chest aches as I look over my shoulder, eyes slowly lingering on Dakar's peaceful expression before I inhale deeply and turn back to the door. My palms are sweating and my legs are wobbly as I twist the doorknob and let myself out of the room as quietly as possible.
Somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind, a single word—coward—emerges, but I shove it back out of my consciousness as I pause in the hall, uncertain if I should go left or right. I rule out option one. The elevator's loud shudder and clanking sounds would wake up the whole floor, including Dakar. Besides, the elevator stops in the lobby which increases the possibility of me being seen. It's better if I use the emergency exit at the other end of the hall.
With shaky hands, I grasp the handrail as sweat trickles down my back. Disoriented and dizzy, I stop after taking only a few steps. Coward. There it is again. Irritated by the accusatory word, I sit down on the cold metal stairs. My head falls into my hands and I stay bent over, feeling overwhelmed and confused. What happened last night with Dakar has my head spinning. Why did he have to be so good at making love? He had to make sure it was the best sex I had ever experienced. He was insistent and I couldn't resist his persistence in making certain that I enjoyed every single tortuously delicious minute of our time.
He wasn't satisfied until I yelled out his name, raked my fingernails across his back, pounded the mattress, and practically begged for mercy. He made me feel more than I ever had… and that was the problem. His unselfishness was beyond the ordinary, but it was his gentleness that was so unsettling.
Closing my eyes, I relive the way those large hands became tender as he brushed damp curls off my forehead, wiped my brow, and tucked me under his shoulder. He kept asking if I was okay, what I liked, what I wanted more of when, all along, my body made those answers perfectly clear. Damn him times three—why couldn't he be selfish like the other guys I’ve been with who weren’t so conscientious about pleasing me as much as themselves. Oh no, that wouldn't do. Not for the doctor with the magic hands. And everything else.
Sighing, I grab the handrail and push myself up from the stairs. This is what I get for not following my instincts. I should have never come here. What would it have taken—two minutes? Maybe three, tops—to have canceled? I should have used my head not my desire as a guide. If I had, I wouldn't feel so disjointed now. I've made a big mistake by sleeping with Dakar. I'm the ABL, Anything-But-Love woman, and anyone who knows me understands that I enjoy an entanglement-free lifestyle. I like sex, not love, and I can tell that Dakar doesn't get that, which is exactly why I had to get out of that room before he tried some sentimental stuff with me. No way. I'm not having it.
My throat aches in a way that could signal the start of tears. Nope. Don't have time for that either. Mushy emotions are such a bother.
I step down the last stair and push open the emergency exit door, relieved to be outside where I can breathe again. At least the coast is clear and I avoided having to speak to anyone this morning. I'm not up to it.
Glancing up at the smoky sky, I make my way around the side of the building toward the parking lot. Stunned, I gasp and place a hand on my throat before stopping in my tracks. Dakar, looking not-fully awake, jeans hanging low on his hips and a white t-shirt emphasizing the definition of his abs, leans against the passenger side door of my car, his arms folded as his dark eyes stab me with a look I've not seen on him before: red-hot fury.
"Dakar." Embarrassment causes heat to rise from the pit of my stomach and my face to flush with guilt. My steps are slow and hesitant as I place a trembling hand on his shoulder. "I didn't want to wake you." This is true, but, of course, there is more. The emotion that propelled me forward was linked to an overwhelming sense of needing to escape while I still could, to not allow myself to be seduced again by his searing passion or his gentle touch. And, now, here he is, waiting for me, angry and, judging by the look in his eyes, wounded.
"I wouldn't have minded." His voice is hard and confusion clouds his face. "You're sneaking out." A muscle in his jaw twitches and I see now that the look is hurt more than confusion and anger. "No goodbye?"
“Dakar.” Shrugging, I bite my lip. What is he expecting me to say or do? He’ll be leaving soon, anyway. “I left you a note.”
“Is that what you call those few words you jotted down?” He drops his arms, waiting for more of an explanation, but I don’t have one.
"I have a busy schedule today, and then I received an important text message." Something about him makes me want to run as fast as I can in the opposite direction, while another part of me wants to be held in his embrace and relive the incredible comfort that I’ve found in his arms.
No. I must remind myself, that isn't what I want. It's not me and never will be. I need my independence.
Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):
What’s your favorite thing about autumn:
The color of the fall leaves and the cool breeze.
What inspired you to write this story:
I think a lot of women can relate to not being sure if they will ever find true love and happiness, but they are eventually willing to try.
Giveaway –
One lucky reader will win a $75 Amazon gift card
Open internationally.
Runs September 1 – 30
Drawing will be held on October 2.
Author Biography:
Dalia Dupris has been a book lover as long as she can remember. She has won two EMMA awards and is a Romance Writers of America Spectrum Grant recipient. Dalia’s BA in English Literature and masters degree in social work, in addition to years of experience as a licensed therapist, contribute to her creation of relatable and complex multi-cultural characters. In her spare time, she enjoys bike riding along the California coast with her husband, and hiking with her daughter. She loves hearing from her readers. Their words of encouragement inspire her to keep creating memorable characters. Subscribe to her website for a chance to win free prizes every month. To learn more about Dalia and her books check out www.daliadupris.com and https://linktr.ee/DaliasBooks
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