The End of Camelot

ISBN Digital: 9781628308433
ISBN Print: 9781628308426
Page Count: 428
Word Count: 111520
Rating: Sensual

November 22, 1963: The assassination of a president devastates America. But a phone call brings even more tragic news to Vikki Ward—her TV reporter husband was found dead in his Dallas hotel room that morning.

Finding his notes, Vikki realizes her husband was embroiled in the plot to kill JFK—but his mission was to prevent it. When the Dallas police rule his death accidental, Vikki vows to find out who was behind the murders of JFK and her husband. With the help of her father and godfather, she sets out to uncover the truth.

Aldobrandi Po, the bodyguard hired to protect Vikki, falls in love with her almost as soon as he sets eyes on her. But he's engaged to be married, and she’s still mourning her husband. Can they ever hope to find happiness in the wake of all this tragedy?


Like those classical portraits, his eyes followed her across the room as she plucked a honey ball from the top of the pile and halted with it halfway to her mouth. She didn’t want to eat it in front of him. She didn’t want him to see her smacking her lips and licking her fingers and grabbing for another one, which was all the fun of eating these things—but not in front of a servant, especially him.

“You want one?” she offered, though she knew she shouldn’t. It was a breach of protocol, but who paid attention to protocol around here? Certainly not Rosie. His staff was like his extended family, and they all called him Goombah in the most affectionate way.

“Sure.” But what he did next unnerved her. He opened his mouth, waiting for her to pop in the one she was holding.

Dare I engage in such an intimate act? I hardly know this guy! But it was New Year’s Eve, they were alone, and he was harmless. So far. So she took the necessary two paces over to him and placed the honey ball between his custom-made choppers.

He closed his eyes, and she watched him savoring the sweetness. She didn’t dare say another word as she ran her index finger over a glob of cream on the cannoli plate, raised it to her lips and licked. “Mmmm,” she voiced, wishing she hadn’t.

Their eyes met and locked. Faster than lightning, they came together like magnets. Their lips met, sweet and sticky and hot. She didn’t want him to stop, but her inner voice screamed how wrong it was—It’s forbidden!—echoing the nuns in Saint Gustina’s. She shooed it away like an annoying fly. Leave me alone. I’m not a kid anymore. Her arms circled his neck, and his hands slid down to the curve of her back. Dare she move in closer, pelvis to pelvis, an unthinkable act three seconds ago? Her body was betraying her, betraying Jack, taking on a will of its own as she crushed herself to him. The kiss intensified. She tasted cannoli, and her fogged mind told her he’d been sampling them all day. She breathed in his cologne, so foreign it repelled her, so new it aroused her even further. Her tiara slipped off her head. She caught it just as he pulled away.

He held her at arm’s length as in a tango. “Oh, cara mia,” he growled—and if he said another word in Italian, she knew she’d explode. A passion long dormant stirred inside her.

She pulled her glasses off; they were so steamed up she couldn’t see through them. “Stop,” was the only word she could say, and that didn’t carry much conviction. It sounded more like an invitation, which he accepted. His lips found hers once more, and they drank each other in, two starved, deprived primates discovering something beyond delight—raw need.

It ended too soon for her. “If that’s the appetizer, I’d like to see the main dish.” She didn’t know what made her blurt that out,

Copyright © 2018 The Wild Rose Press, Inc.