Inspired by characters such as Captain Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter, black and white films, and vintage burlesque, Donovan seeks to capture the forbidden and erotic side of a decade rich with vibrant hues. He has an affinity for the 1940s, parboiled detectives, murder mysteries, and sexy, sultry dames. Erotic moments can be triggered by a brush of the fingers, a heated glance, or a daring confession. Donovan seeks to capture these scenes and paint them with words. Romance varies but should never be limited, especially when the characters speak in authoritative tones.
1946, New York City I missed her. Five years in the army and I wanted her more than I had before I left. When she sent for me, I should have said no. Maybe I’m still a dumb kid with a soft spot for dames in a jam. Lily knew it. When her dancer sister went missing from the Burlesque joint on 52nd, she banked on me coming to her rescue. But the past caught up and pulled us both under. I keep asking myself—is she worth dying for? Buy your copy now! Kindle Nook Smashwords
A glance over my shoulder allowed me to catch her movement as she slipped on the shimmering blue silk evening gown. It hugged every inch of her body, accentuating every asset she possessed. Goddamn it. Smart and sexy. I'd never met a woman who drew me in as she did. I looked away before she caught me watching, pinched my eyes closed and took a few breaths to calm my pulse and my raging erection. "How do I look?" she asked. I turned around. She pulled the pin from her hair and let the mahogany curls drape across her shoulders. My perusal began at her feet and slowly traveled upward. By the time I met her eyes, I was aflame. I wanted to touch every single inch of her, exploring with my fingers and mouth. She tilted her chin up and smiled like she could read my mind. "Blue's always been a good color on you." I brushed invisible lint off my sleeves in an attempt to redirect the fire burning hot between us. "When do we go on stage?" She winced at my brusque tone but quickly masked what looked like disappointment. Without hesitating, she crossed to the vanity and sat down to fix her lipstick. A knock at the door, then a shout through the wood. "Five minutes." "Thank you, five," she replied absently before glancing at me in the mirror. "That answer your question." "Yeah." I picked up the mask. "Put it on." She dabbed the red onto her lips. "Why?" "It's better if they don't know who you are." She set the lipstick down and turned to face me. "I'm beginning to wonder if you're playing games with me here, Lily." She stood and took the mask from my hand. Stepping close, Lily reached up to fasten it around my head. "If they know I brought you here, I'll be out on my ass faster than you can say strip." I caught her by the wrists. "Why me then?" She met my stare and held it, her lips quirking. "Because, you're the only I can trust to can find Ginger." "I don't think that's the only reason." I leaned closer, my lips hovering over hers. "I need you, Jack." "Never thought I'd hear you say those words." The double meaning didn't escape my notice. My gaze dropped to her mouth. "You're lucky you're wearing that shit on your lips right now and that we have to be on stage in a few minutes." "Why's that?" she asked, her eyes glinting in challenge and amusement. "You and I have unfinished business." I released her wrists and backed away. "Remember that." Lily would break me, one way or another. She snatched the hat from the couch and set it atop my head. "Just try to keep up." She led us out the door, and I hoped she wasn't leading us both to slaughter. The sway of her silk-clad hips drove me to distraction. I was supposed to be finding a missing girl, not falling into the same goddamn pit I'd dug my way out of five years ago. Taking a deep breath, I followed Lily.