Have you had a chance to pick up a copy of #1 International Bestseller, ALLURE? Here's peek at the oh-so-hot SIX, who has readers FANNING themselves in DELIGHT! <3 (Please share!)

Six. His nickname had always puzzled me. How did someone end up with a name like that? He had six tattoos apparently, but denied that as the reason. I couldn’t see anything else that had to do with sixes. Did he like six shooters? Did it take six shots to get him wasted? Had he slept with six girls in one night?
That one made me pause. I didn’t like how it made me feel—jealous. He certainly looked like a guy who’d be capable of sleeping with six girls in a night, though. The few times I’d been in proximity to him made me want to melt.
I wanted to be brave enough to just ask him about his name, but he hadn’t seemed too willing to talk about it, earlier. Truth be told, he was more than a bit intimidating. He had thick wavy, dark brown hair, shorter around the edges, but longer on the top, leaving it sort of casually messy—as if someone had recently run their fingers through it. I could imagine sinking my fingers into its silky depths and losing them—if I could even stretch far enough to reach his hair. He was tall, somewhere in the neighborhood of six foot three, I’d guess, six-four, perhaps, if you added in the biker boots he was currently wearing. Compared to my five foot six, he seemed like a giant. I always felt tall, until I saw him. He made me feel tiny.
Of course, part of that, too, was probably due to his large frame being covered in vast muscles. I wondered how many hours he spent in the gym to look like that. He was the textbook image of “rippling with muscle,” but with just the right amount—not too overdone, but not necessarily what one would consider lean muscle, either. He was tough looking, built like a stack of bricks. I had no doubt that he could hold his own in any fight that might arise.
Then there was his face, his square jaw and chiseled features, high cheekbones, straight nose, full lips—all were perfection—giving him a slightly exotic look, but it was his eyes that held me captive.
They were ice blue—like those on a wolf or an Alaskan Husky—so light as to almost be colorless, but edged by a dark ring. When he’d stared at me earlier, in the front of the store, I felt like he could see right through me—like I was caught in the gaze of a predator, or something. It was both a little thrilling and terrifying, but I liked it.


© Lacey Weatherford Books/ Moonstruck Media, LLC.