Me Tarzan, You Jane by Camelia Miron Skiba Moving on doesn’t always have to mean goodbye. Widowed makeup artist Jane Sullivan is more comfortable keeping her husband's memory alive than dating a pool full of sharks. Ella, her 4 year-old daughter, is her whole world. When Jane meets Lucas Oliver, famous cover model, it’s hate at first sight. His playboy persona rubs her the wrong way. Accustomed to every woman fawning over him, Lucas is drawn to the shy, uncompromising single mom and completely melts at the sight of Ella. He is determined to convince Jane that sometimes a second chance can mend a broken heart.
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Praise: Fun book. When it first started out, I was afraid it was going to be shallow (lots of references to hot guys, etc) but it turned out to be a thoughtful story with likable characters. I look forward to reading more from this author. ~ Author Karey White Great story! Loved Jane's strength, and learning the layers of "Tarzan." This is a great story about moving on after a tragedy and learning to trust again! ~ Author Sherry Gammon I adored this book. The characters were so alive for me that I was actually sad when the book ended. I wanted more. Maybe the author will be kind enough to write about each of the male models mentioned here ... If your looking for a heartfelt story this is the book for you. ~Solmarie
It’s the first time ever my power nap turns into hours of blissful sleep, Ella warm next to me. I’m starving but that’s not why I wake up but rather a scratch-knock at the window. For a second I’m convinced it’s only a dream. Another knock and Lucas’ voice wakes me completely. Lifting the drapes I see him outside my window.
“The door. Open the door.” His voice sounds muffled.
By the time I unlock the door I’m wide-awake, my heart drumming in my ears. I must’ve slept in a wrong position. A sharp pain shoots down my neck and into my right shoulder.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you don’t have a key.”
Lucas stomps the snow off his shoes on the outdoor rug, walks by me and closes the door. Two wrinkles line between his black eyebrows and, by the red ears and nose I assume he’s been outside for quite a while.
“We are on a closed-in estate with security cameras at the gates. Who did you think would come, Peter Pan?”
I think of thousand reasons why normal people keep their doors locked, but it’d only aggravate him. I settle for, “No, just afraid Ella might wander away. She does that at times.”
I follow him into the living room where the fire is dead, except for glowing cinders that he pokes at. With a few logs and crumpled newspapers he revives the fire. The antique clock on the mantel shows 1:20 A.M.
I hide a yawn, but can’t hide my stomach’s rumble. Loud and lengthy.
Lucas glances at me with tired eyes. “Hungry?”
I nod and, rubbing my neck, I walk to the kitchen. The table is still a mess with the cereal, the dirty bowls, and dried milk Ella spilled in the chair. I feel guilty for messing up the place, a state of the art kitchen with espresso brown wood cabinetry, white Carrara marble countertops, and stainless steel appliances. I clean before I allow myself to sit down and eat.
My mouth waters as I prepare myself a sandwich with Swiss cheese, pickles and a dash of pepper on a sourdough baguette. Lucas returns from the pantry with a bottle of red wine and grimaces. He’s dressed in a white skintight long sleeve shirt and jeans.
“You’re not pregnant, are you?”
I almost spit my food, but forcing myself not to, I cough.
He pats my back. “Have you tried smaller bites?”
I’m finally able to talk. “What kind of question is that?”
He uncorks the wine. “About being pregnant or smaller bites?”
Author Camelia Miron Skiba I WRITE. I LIVE. I LOVE. I DREAM. I WRITE. I’m a dreamer I’m a sinner I love my books I conjure hooks And heroes with good looks Romance is my guilty pleasure Taking me to places with new decor Come join me if you dare I promise not to bore If you like to read my stories Pray my husband continues snorin’ For he’s the one who keeps me up at night When I give my heroes wings and flight.
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