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Reviews:
"Moira is a fortune teller in a carnival who has managed to pick up a truly unwelcome stalker. She decides she must leave the carnival and all of her friends but she really has no place to go. Dukker has watched Moira since the day she touched the crystal ball in which he was imprisoned and he’s wanted her ever since. Now how to claim her??? Every Breath You Take by Isabella Jordan is a short yummy read that’s sure to please." - Pam L., A Romance Review
"Every Breath You Take was an intriguing story. It was apparent that Moira had a deep love for her carnival friends. She would rather leave the only home she knew, than expose them to the darkness of the man stalking her. Dukker was a very intriguing character – just enough was revealed to flesh him out, but there was plenty that was left up to your imagination. Dukker certainly knows how to satisfy a lady, and Moira reveals in his expertise. There are some interesting twists and turns in this short story. I thought that Dukker’s imprisonment and subsequent breakout were very clever touches. I loved the handling of the stalker problem. The only problem I had was that it was too short. I loved my time with Moira and Dukker and would have relished spending more time with them." - 4 stars, Michelle Naumann, JERR
"Isabella Jordan’s Every Breath You Take is a fascinating story of the instant connection between a couple. Moira and Dukker are connected through their dreams and then emotionally and physically in real life. Ms. Jordan tells an interesting but short tale that will keep your attention from the first word. Both Moira and Dukker have their own baggage and find that they are stronger together than they are apart. While Ms. Jordan tells a wonderful story its short length will have the reader wanting more." - Tewanda, Fallen Angel Reviews
"Wow, this is one steamy short story. The dream sequence was expertly written. Moira and Dukker are intriguing characters. The premise of the story is interesting and the ending gave me a nice little laugh." - Melissa, Enchanted Ramblings
Excerpt:
Dukker watched her dash back and forth across the room, gathering her clothes and other little belongings. Her skirt was a fluid motion of red and black on the other side of the glass, her full breasts straining the white peasant blouse she wore. Her long silky hair was the color of old gold coins and it fanned around her as she spun around, walked back and forth. He much preferred her natural hair to the dark wig she wore when she worked. He wanted nothing more than to sink his hands in that hair, to fill them with those breasts.
There was no way he was letting Moira go. She didn't know it yet, but she was his. His. And she'd better be ready because when he found a way out of his glass prison, he planned to let her know she was his over and over and over.
And Moira was the key to his escape from the crystal ball, he just knew it. When old Wen's sister had finally died six months ago, he'd rejoiced. It had been bliss to be free of her evil thoughts and hands after fifty-seven years of imprisonment. Even if they'd thrown the crystal ball and him along with it into the dumpster with the rest of her belongings, it would have been worth it to be free of the cruel woman who'd once been his lover.
But that fat Lydia had done him a favor and given him to Moira instead. Beautiful Moira who had no idea of the crystal ball's magic. Even if she did, she couldn't wield it. And she sure as hell couldn't control him. She didn't even know he existed.
But he knew her.
Each touch of her small white hands on the glass had been heaven and hell, he could feel each one as if she were caressing his skin. And each time she touched the crystal ball her thoughts and desires were revealed to him. Dukker enjoyed her pride in a good night of fortune-telling and reveled in the way she could handle anyone who dared called her a fraud. That was most amusing because in truth she was exactly that. Any insight she had about the people who visited her tent, he gave to her and from his glass prison he was extremely limited in his ability to help her. He could only see them through her eyes and he had to rely on her senses. But most people were pathetically easy to read, the pattern of their boring little lives he'd seen thousands of times.
Dukker knew the long lonely nights she spent in her tent, dreaming of love and a lover who was both dominant and tender. In her first few weeks with the carnival she'd covered the crystal ball with a scarf, shrouding his world in darkness for most of the day. But after a while she decided the crystal ball no longer made her nervous and she stopped covering it. Either way he despised the long hours of the night because he wanted to know what she was thinking. What did she dream about?
From the thick pillow where the crystal ball rested every night, he had a clear view of her bed. Dukker ached every night with each glimpse of white flesh revealed to him as she moved about in her sleep. How he longed to feel the smooth white skin of her thighs, of her breasts.
His one desire when he managed to escape the crystal ball was to claim Moira as his own, to take her again and again until she understood that she belonged to him. Dukker thought of nothing more than the vision of Moira spread beneath him, her body open to all of his senses. He wanted to touch and taste every part of her and once he was done with that, had her helpless and wanting beneath him, he'd bury his cock inside her and claim her as she'd never been claimed before.
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