Long and Short Reviews welcomes Isabelle Ronin who is celebrating today’s release of Spitfire in Love. Enter the Rafflecopter at the end of the post for a chance to win one of three Bundle Packs of Chasing Red and Always Red.

From the International Phenomenon with over 200 Million Reads on Wattpad

She’s never at a loss for words.
He’s determined to have the last one.

KARA
There he was with his piercing blue eyes and Lucifer black hair.
He was leaning against the wall, a lollipop in his mouth, hot as hell and twice as dangerous.

Kara Hawthorne never backs down, especially when it comes to protecting her family.

CAM
She looked so soft, harmless, like a pretty kitten, but she was as safe as a ticking time bomb.
My sweet, sweet Spitfire.

Cameron St. Laurent isn’t intimidated by the feisty woman at his doorstep. And when she asks him for the impossible, Cameron knows just how to sweeten the deal…

The two combustible personalities are faced with unavoidable off-the-charts chemistry. But when Cam’s dark past shows up, he’ll have to slay his demons and lay himself on the line to win Kara, body and soul.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Kara

Cameron’s blue eyes were even deeper, somehow more intense, in the muted glow of the light. They were patient as he followed Dylan to the front door—no, not patient. They were waiting. Anticipating what was to come.

I heard my brother’s footsteps and Cameron’s, then the click of the lock.

The echo it made in the room was as loud and heavy with meaning as a declaration of war.

Then those eyes, with those deep-blue irises, shifted to mine.

Conquer me, they challenged, before I conquer you.

It was bait.

And I wanted to bite.

I curled my hands into fists and instinctively stepped back, stopping when the back of my knees hit the couch.

The effect he had on me was undeniable, and I didn’t care for it. I didn’t like the way I felt defenseless around him, how he could strip away my reasoning just by looking at me.

As if he heard my thoughts, his lips, slowly and deliberately, formed into a smile.

I got you, his smile said, exactly where I want you.

Strength and controlled power showed in every movement of his body as I watched him cross the room toward me. His body was big and sleek, like a stealthy cat roaming the jungle, patient and hungry.

My eyes took in the long lines of his arms, the ripple of muscles, the veins that stood out like cords, his thick wrist. Every part disciplined, tight, and masculine.

He stopped in front of me.

“Kara.” He whispered my name. His voice was deep and rich, and my name sounded and felt so carnal coming from his lips. “Tell me why you’re here.”

I tried to answer. God knows I tried, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. It felt so easy, so sinful, like a soft, silky feather stroking my skin, to give in. Let someone else take control for once. No, not just someone. It had to be him. I closed my eyes in defense. I was losing, and surprisingly, I didn’t seem to mind. Was this what it felt like to want? To need?

The air was thick with tension, and I felt it shift before his fingers stroked the inside of my wrist. Once, twice. Then it was gone.

My lips opened a fraction, letting out a sharp breath. An expulsion, a way my body dealt with the surging desire in the aftermath of his touch.

Or maybe, maybe, it was a silent demand for more.

“Open your eyes,” he said softly.

I kept them closed.

“Kara.” His voice was soft as velvet, coaxing. “Look at me.”

But what would happen if I did?

This was something I’d never felt or experienced before. I’d never been this close to anyone nor had I wanted to be.
I was teetering between two worlds—the one where I would stay the same if I stepped away from him now, and the other one where the world I knew would end and change to something unfamiliar.

Which one would I choose?

I always put others before me. Responsibilities, commitments, family. When was the last time I did something just for the hell of it?

I opened my eyes. And stared right into the blue of his.

He was ruthlessly beautiful. The straight, dark brows, the deep-set eyes, the long, straight nose, the full lips. And all that beauty framed by soft, black hair.

I had thought he looked like a dark archangel when I first laid eyes on him. I still did.

He was as deep and dark as a cave, and I was standing right at his entrance. Should I go in or leave?

I made up my mind.

His lips parted in surprise as the my finger slowly traced his collarbone, marveling at the warmth of his skin, at the smoothness of it. I thought I’d be satisfied just by feeling it, but I wanted to do more.

His muscles tensed as I moved my fingers to the long line of his neck, rubbing the stubble on his jaw, tickling myself.

I smiled but didn’t say anything. I usually had a lot to say, but I wasn’t myself right now. I was different when I was with him. I felt more beautiful, more aware of myself as a woman.

The pulse at the base of his throat jumped as I focused on his lips and continued my exploration there. They were full, pink, with a prominent Cupid’s bow.

Suddenly, he opened his mouth and caught my finger between his lips, between his teeth, then with his tongue. And sucked.

I gasped, my eyes snapping to his as I snatched my finger away, feeling like my whole body was on fire.

There was so much emotion raging inside me. My skin prickled. I felt hot, itchy, needy. I wanted…more. Just more.
“You’re driving me fucking crazy,” he whispered. His voice was husky, more than a hint of frustration in it.

Where every move before had been disciplined, he now radiated restless energy. It felt like having a big, edgy cat in a small cage.

His eyes grew heavy, hungry. “I’m waiting for you to run away,” he said quietly.

When I didn’t reply, his arms fell dejectedly to his sides.

“I don’t want you to.”

I bit my lip at his confession. He made me feel wanted. That I shouldn’t deny myself what I wanted. Even just for this moment.

The way he looked at me felt like heat gliding across my skin. Hot, palpable, alluring.

He looked so good, so unapologetically male.

“Kara.”

I looked up at him. He held his hand out to me, palm up.

“Come here,” he said huskily.

As if in a trance, I placed my hand in his. His hand was wide, with long, tapered fingers, and rough, with calluses and scrapes. A working man’s hand. A capable, strong, gorgeous man.

My eyes shifted to his. There was a delicious hot curl in my stomach at the approval and hunger I saw in his eyes.
He kissed my palm and placed it on his chest. His hands banded on my hips, his fingers pressing intimately, possessively, as he sprawled on the couch, pulling me to him and settling me on his lap.

I gasped as our bodies made contact, as I straddled him. He was wide, and God, so big that my legs stretched to accommodate him.

Up close, he was even more beautiful. Almost unreal. His features were perfect, his skin creamy and smooth.

His hands slipped under my sweater, fingers stroking the skin on my lower back. I shivered at the delicious rough texture of them.

When his lips touched my ear, I jumped. He let out a deep, low laugh.

Butterflies whirled in my stomach at the sound. Even his laugh was sexy.

“Can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured.

He dragged his lips from my ear to my jaw, inhaling long and deep. My hands gripped his arms, waiting, wanting him to keep going, wanting to feel what was going to happen next.

His hands left my back, gliding up my arms, gently securing both sides of my neck. His thumbs stroked the hollow of my throat. My head fell back as I savored his touch. Back and forth and back and forth on my pulse that had gone mad.
He leaned forward until his lips were almost touching the side of my mouth. Almost.

“Kara,” he whispered. “Won’t you kiss me?”

Excerpted from Spitfire In Love by Isabelle Ronin. © 2019 by Isabelle Ronin. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.

About the Author: Isabelle Ronin is the author of Wattpad reader phenomenon CHASING RED. Her books have over 200 million reads online. ​

When she’s not writing, Isabelle can be found hanging out in bookstores, cafes, and whenever possible, the beach. Isabelle lives in Manitoba, Canada.

Buy the book at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iBooks, Indiebound, or BAM.

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Long and Short Reviews welcomes Isabelle Ronin who has stopped by to share an excerpt from Chasing Red, the first book in her duology, which recently released. Leave a comment for a chance to win a print copy of the book (US/Canada only please).

THEY SAID SHE WAS GOING TO BE MY RUIN…
THEN LET HER RUIN ME.

He had everything—wealth, adoration, a brilliant future. Until one chance encounter changed everything. The moment Caleb Lockhart spotted the mysterious woman in her siren red dress, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. For the first time in his life, he wanted something. Something he knew he could never have. The unforgettable stranger he dubs RED.

Chasing Red Duology:
Chasing Red (Book 1) – available now
Always Red (Book 2) – available November 7

Enjoy an Excerpt

It was late when I arrived at Caleb’s apartment. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. I might not have gotten a job offer, but I’d gotten my résumé into as many hands as possible. It had been a very productive day.

Opening the fridge, I wondered how fast I could make Caleb’s dinner so I could slip into my bedroom before he returned home—but the fridge was as empty as my bank account.

I groaned in defeat when I heard the front door open. But when I heard heavy footsteps coming from the living room, I reached for my pocketknife in case it wasn’t Caleb. I’d already made one mistake, but still—better safe than sorry.

“Red?”

I let out a sigh of relief when I heard Caleb’s voice. He was sprawled on the couch, remote control in hand as he turned on the TV. His black leather shoes and dinner jacket decorated the floor. Discarding his clothes there seemed to be a habit.

I stood behind him, admiring the way the bronze in his hair glinted in the light.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked, propping his feet on the coffee table.

“I just got back. I’ll make you something now if you want.”

He looked over his shoulder at me. If my heart tripped—which it totally didn’t—it was a normal and healthy reaction to seeing a gorgeous face. It didn’t mean anything.

“Are you trying to butt out of our bargain already?” he asked, turning back to the TV.

Insulted, I put my hands on my hips, glaring at him. “Unless you want orange juice soup with Pop-Tart croutons, you need to go to the store. We don’t have any groceries.”

He rested his head on the couch headrest and arched up and over so that he was looking at me upside down. “You’re giving me a neck injury. Why don’t you come around so we can talk like normal human beings?”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

He sighed. In a smooth move, he straightened, turned, then climbed to sit on top of the couch. He playfully studied me. “I’m bored,” he stated.

I raised my eyebrows. Did he expect me to entertain him? “And?”

“You owe me dinner.”

“I told you—”

A grin stretched across his face as he loosened his red tie. “You can pay me another way.”

My jaw fell open.

He laughed. “Why is your mind always in the gutter?”

I blinked once. Twice. My mind was always in the gutter?

He pushed off the couch, put his shoes back on, grabbed his keys and helmet from the coffee table, and walked past me. I thought he was going to leave when I felt his hand circle around my wrist, dragging me out the door with him.

“Oh for God’s sake, where are you taking me?”

God, he was tall. For every step he took, I had to take two to keep up.

He pressed the elevator button. “For a ride.”

“A ride?”

He started laughing as he pulled me inside the elevator, pressed the Down button, and watched the door close. “I’ve never met a girl who twisted my words as much as you do. You have a filthy mind, Red. Filthy.”

“What the… A filthy mind!” I sputtered.

When the elevator door opened, he dragged me into the basement parking garage.

“A ride.” He clucked his tongue. “On my bike.”

I pulled my wrist from his hold, rubbing my hand against my jeans. His skin was hot and made me feel strange things.

He stopped and glanced back at me. “Problem?”

“It’s Sunday night. Don’t you have class tomorrow?”

“So?” He shrugged a shoulder. “I’m in college, not high school. I can skip class if I want.”

“Of course you can. You’re rich. You don’t have to work for anything.”

His eyes darkened, and he shoved his hands in his pockets, giving me a long look. “Do you like to be judged for being poor? You think having money saves me from pain?”

Chastised, I fell silent. When I opened my mouth to apologize, he cut me off. “You coming or not?”

I nodded, feeling guilty, and followed behind.

When he stopped in front of a sleek black machine, I stared at him in disbelief. It looked like it ate kids for breakfast.

“Ever ride a bike before?” he asked, tossing his black helmet from hand to hand like a basketball.

I took a step back. “I’m not riding that monster.”

His laugh was low and sexy. He grabbed my wrist again and pulled me close—closer than was necessary.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, his thumb stroking my palm in lazy circles. “I have a feeling you’re going to like it.”

My breath hitched, and he chuckled when I pulled away.

“N-no. I’d like to keep my limbs intact, thank you very much.”

His eyes danced at me playfully. “Yeah? Where’s the fun in that? Rule number one,” he said, gently placing the helmet on my head, “safety first.” He fastened the straps tightly under my chin.

“Rule number two,” he continued, flipping the visor down. I felt slightly claustrophobic so I flipped it back up. “When I’m making a turn, lean your body toward the turn. Never the opposite way. Got it?”

“Sure.”

He smiled down at me, staring for a moment. I wanted to bottle the color of his vibrant green eyes. Realizing I was staring, I shook the thought from my mind and snapped, “What?”

He shrugged, then swung his long leg to straddle his bike. “Hop on.”

When I didn’t, he turned his head, eyebrows raised and eyes glinting with challenge. At that moment, he looked like a gorgeous devil who’d take my soul to hell—and enjoy every minute of it. “You scared?”

My skin prickled with irritation. It would take more than a pretty boy on a big-ass motorcycle to scare me. I’d prove him wrong. I huffed and climbed on the bike, grabbing the sides of my seat.

“Where’s your helmet?” I demanded.

“Only have one,” he replied. He was so close—close enough for me to catch his masculine scent. “Nobody rides this bike but me. You’re the first passenger.”

He turned the engine on, revving it a few times. The bike vibrated angrily.

“Forgot to tell you the last rule,” he said conversationally, looking over his shoulder. I could hear the mischief in his tone.

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

He grinned. “Hold on to me. Really, really tight.”

“No, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.”

I cried out as the bike zoomed forward, and my arms automatically went around him. I could feel his shoulders and hard stomach shaking with laughter.

He so did that on purpose! Fine, he won this round.

I vowed the next one would be mine, as we exited the garage with a roar.

I didn’t like the bike. It was noisy and dangerous. But as we streaked down the road, and the wind whipped cool and damp on my skin, I felt…

Freedom.

About the Author: My name is Isabelle and I’m a lover of belly laughs and snorts and I eat fries and tofu a lot and I’m in love with kind, compassionate people and you can usually find me in bookstores, coffee shops, karaoke parties or at the beach when it’s not frozen solid and I’m Filipino Canadian.