Dangerous Flirtation is vintage Liz Fielding. One of my earlier books, I've given it a light brush up and a fabulous new cover and it's yours to download free from 28 December to 1 January.
Here's the blurb -
Rose has her life all mapped out. A job she loves, a thoughtful, reliable fiancé. Everything is just perfect until a stranger with laughing blue eyes and a roguish grin bursts into her life and turns her life upside down with a birthday kiss. Jack Drayton offers romance, excitement and passion – and he challenges her to accept. Dare she?
And an excerpt
Reluctantly she lowered her window. ‘Why are you still here?’ she demanded. ‘Didn’t Anthony pay you enough to move on?’ It was hateful, but she couldn’t help herself.
‘There isn’t enough money in the world for that, Rosie.’ He smiled, apparently relishing the memory. ‘I told him he’d better put it back in his piggy bank and save up until he can afford to buy you a ring.’
She stifled a groan. Behind them someone hooted politely. Jack ignored the hint and leaned on the roof of the car, staring down at her. ‘Where’s he taking you for your birthday treat? A burger bar?’
‘A concert and then dinner at Michel’s,’ she said, a little smugly.
He let out an ironic whistle. ‘Just as well I wouldn’t take his cash. Which concert? The Jay Livingstone Trio is playing at the jazz club, or perhaps that isn’t quite his cup of tea?’
She stifled a groan. She had wanted to go. It wasn’t often these days that such a group could be tempted into Melchester, but Anthony loathed jazz and she hadn’t even dared suggest it. ‘It’s not my jazz club,’ she retorted, disappointment lending a sharpness to her voice. ‘If you must know, we’re going to the Guildhall, The Shostakovich Cello Concerto.’
‘Wouldn’t you rather come and listen to Jay?’ he asked.
‘You have tickets?’ she asked, surprised. They had not been cheap.
‘No need. Jay’s an old friend.’ He bent down beside her window, examining her face under the lamplight. ‘What do you say?’
Her heartbeat began to accelerate again. ‘I...’ She tore her eyes away from his. ‘No. Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘I wasn’t being ridiculous, Rosie. You’d much rather come with me. Admit it.’
‘I’ll admit nothing of the kind.’ She put the car into gear and glared at him. Laughing, he stood up.
‘Better run along, then. You mustn’t be late. I’ll see you later, cheer your soul with a little blues.’ He glanced at the instrument case in his hand.
She stared, horrified. ‘You wouldn’t?’
His eyes gleamed wickedly in the subdued light. ‘I think you know that I would.’
‘Haven’t you caused enough trouble for one day?’ she demanded.
His eyes teased her. ‘Rosie, my darling,’ he drawled. ‘I haven’t even begun.’ And with that he stepped back, leaving her free to drive away, but she couldn’t. Not before he told her why he was tormenting her.
‘What do you want from me?’ she demanded.
‘Use your imagination,’ he said, roughly.
She gasped then. She wasn’t going to use her imagination. It was a dangerous thing, the imagination. It conjured up strong hands and warm kisses to torment her.
‘What do you want?’ she demanded again. He didn’t elaborate, refusing to make it easy for her, but it was there in the raw challenge in his eyes and she felt as if a trap were closing around her.
The knowledge that she had sprung it herself offered precious little comfort. She only knew that if she stayed another moment she would lose everything she wanted. Peace, contentment, security. Precious things. All Jack Drayton could offer was momentary passion, a transitory, crazy sort of excitement that would destroy her peace of mind and when it was over, leave nothing but the misery and humiliation her mother had suffered when her father had walked out on them both.
She was going to marry Anthony and she didn’t know what she was doing even talking to this man.
The person behind had clearly had enough and an impatient horn galvanised her into action. She eased off the handbrake and stepped on the accelerator. The car shot forward and abruptly stalled. She grabbed at the ignition key, but the car wouldn’t start and the irritation from behind had suddenly become a chorus of people eager to get home. ‘Idiot!’ she said, furious with herself. Why on earth had she even spoken to the man? She was going to be late and Anthony hated to be kept waiting. There were tears pricking at her eyelids when the door opened beside her.
He took one look at her face and swore volubly, then put an ice cold hand on hers, stopping the desperate churning of the engine. ‘Move over, Rosie. You’re in no fit state to drive,’ he said, very gently.
‘And whose fault is that?’ she demanded, angrily.
‘That’s open to debate. You didn’t have to stop.’ He threw the saxophone onto the back seat and waited and conscious of the queue of cars behind her, she moved over. He pushed the driving seat back as far as it would go and climbed behind the wheel. The car, infuriatingly, started at the first touch. Everything would start at his touch, she thought, hopelessly. Even her. Especially her.
Here are some links, but it's available in English at Amazon worldwide; download it with my warmest wishes and tell all your friends!