Mari Carr's Blog, page 46

Quote of the Day

For January, I thought I’d share quotes to commemorate another new year! Go 2014!

For last year’s words belong to last year’s language

And next year’s words await another voice.

And to make an end is to make a beginning.

- T.S. Eliot

Feel like taking a peek

…at another series? I’m home today on a snow day! Woot! Woot! If only it weren’t so cold. 5 below down by my barn (lol–pardon the Our Town quote).

Today, I thought it might be fun to look at an oldie…a very oldie. Erotic Research was my very first published book. I’m thinking about it because the heroine, like myself, is snowed in. Erotic Research is part of the Black & White Collection. Now these books aren’t what you’d consider a traditional series. I mean the characters and stories aren’t connected in anyway (except in Happy Hour and Slam Dunk). Instead, they are held together by a theme–Wicked Fantasies. Each story delves into a different fantasy. Erotic Research explores role playing. Tequila Truth and Happy Hour are menages. Power Play included BDSM as well sex with a stranger (and may be one of my all-time favorite books–I really loved writing that one!).

But…it all started with Erotic Research.

Chapter One

“Me and my big mouth,” Julia muttered as she dragged in the third load of wood to stack beside the fireplace. The snow hadn’t stopped falling since she’d arrived and, while the cabin was certainly toasty, she didn’t relish the thought of being buried alive by snowdrifts for the entire winter. Sure, she was used to being alone, but at least at home in New York City, she had the option of personal contact if she desired it. When the walls of her tiny apartment started to close in on her, she could always hit the market or Starbucks to see other human beings.

Coming to Ross Phillips’s rustic escape, this extraordinarily luxurious cabin nestled high in the mountains of West Virginia, to start a new novel—especially at the beginning of January—had not been one of her more brilliant plans. Actually, it was Ross’s fault— this reckless venture to the wilderness. He’d goaded her into it like he did most things.

“You’re in a rut,” Ross had told her. “What you need is a change. A major change.”

Unwilling to confess to her totally hot, though thoroughly arrogant, editor that he was right, she let him convince her to escape the city in the dead of winter with relatively little fuss. The fact was she had been battling boredom with her chosen path in life, although truth be told, when he made the suggestion for change, she thought he’d merely meant she should take a vacation.

Historical romance novelist by trade, she’d spent the last ten years of her life buried in her small apartment with her beloved cat, Duke, writing about damsels in distress, hunky lords and knights, and glorious adventures. In other words, she’d been living inside her head, creating worlds and men who could never exist in this lifetime.

Two months ago, Duke had gone on to that kitty castle in the sky and Julia’s world had fallen apart. Depression set in as she realized her best, and now only, friend was her editor—simply because a cat had died.

She hadn’t had a date in nearly three years—which was the last time Ross attempted to set her up. Ten minutes into the evening, Julia knew the blind date would end like all the others. The man would never meet the standards she’d set in her mind for the ideal man. Feigning a migraine, she escaped the disastrous dinner before dessert only to be raked over the coals by Ross the next morning for not giving the man a fair chance.

Even now, she could recall his frustration and anger toward her. She could hear his voice like it was yesterday.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he had yelled into the phone. “Alex Saunders is a great guy. According to him, you didn’t give him the time of day.”

“I’m sure he is a perfectly nice man,” Julia had answered, feeling guilty for not putting forth more effort. She knew Ross was worried about her spending so much time alone; however she couldn’t help but be surprised he thought she would be attracted to Alex. “He’s just not my type.”

“Oh hell, not that again. Jules, we’ve talked about this. It’s 2005, not 1815,” Ross said, exasperation thick in his voice.

“I know what year it is, Ross.”

“Do you?” Ross asked. “Do you really?”

“We’ve had this conversation before.”

“That’s right, we have. And could it be because you insist on turning yourself into an old maid? Christ, Jules, you’re nearly thirty years old. It’s time to get out there. Live a little.”

“I am perfectly happy with my life the way it is and I am not nearly thirty. I’m only twenty-seven. I like my freedom and I don’t need a man. Why can’t you trust me when I say that?”

“Because it’s not normal, Jules. Living in self-imposed seclusion is not normal. When’s the last time you got laid?” Ross asked.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business. You’re my editor, Ross, not my pimp!”

“Jesus, Jules,” Ross began.

“And my name is Julia. You know I hate that nickname.”

“Jules,” Ross said calmly, ignoring her request as usual, “honey, you can’t stay locked up in that apartment writing romance novels twenty-four seven. It’s not healthy.”

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“I would think you’d be delighted I’m working so hard. My last four books topped the best-seller list and I’ve won the True Heart award twice.”

“Don’t insult me, kiddo. I would hope after all the years we’ve known each other, you would know I consider you a friend, not a client. And as your friend, I’d prefer it if you wrote less and lived more.”

Julia’s heart softened as she recalled his words to her that day. Ross was a good friend to her. For the past decade, he’d been her main connection to the outside world, which is why she had foolishly agreed to his idea of a change. Rather than suggesting a relaxing cruise, however, his idea of a major change was actually a new genre.

Erotic romance. According to Ross, the market for these hot books was booming. He’d given her a box full of titles, encouraging her to read them and see what she thought.

For the past month, she’d been immersed in capture, bondage, BDSM and ménage-a- trois stories. She learned about domination, submission and the toys—my God, she didn’t know such things existed. Butt plugs, whips, paddles, vibrators, nipple clamps. She didn’t have a clue about any of these things and now Ross wanted her to write about them. While she had to admit she was intrigued, she also knew no amount of imagination was going to get her out of this mess. Ross had insisted she write erotica and, while still in a sensual haze from her readings and depressed over Duke’s death, she’d foolishly agreed to try.

Granted, she was technically not a virgin, but she couldn’t help but wonder if there was a statute of limitations on virginity. How long could you consider yourself experienced without actually having sex? She’d had sex with two, almost three men in her life—her high school beau, her college sweetheart and a nearly disastrous one-night stand. While her high school and college boyfriends had both been very sweet men, the bed play had certainly been nothing to write home about—mainly innocent exploration and vanilla sex.

Her lack of experience seemed to be in direct contrast to Ross’s wealth of practice and skill. For all the dates she seemed to lack, Ross Phillips more than made up the difference for both of them. Like Baskin-Robbins, he had a flavor of the month and it was always unique, different and exotic. A steady parade of gorgeous women seemed to make their way through his bedroom—so many in fact, Julia teasingly nicknamed him “Hef”, likening him to Hugh Hefner and his Playboy Bunnies.

The sad truth was she hadn’t had sex in nearly a decade, except for that near miss almost five years ago which had been an unmitigated disaster and the main reason she’d sworn off men and sex forever. She still couldn’t think of that night without blushing regret. She’d gone to a Christmas party at the home of one of her publishers and gotten a little inebriated. Actually, she’d gotten a lot inebriated. She hated social events and was terrible at small talk. She was supposed to hang out with Ross, but…

Ross had shown up with Bridget, his buxom blonde on-again, off-again girlfriend, or—as Julia liked to refer to her—slutfriend. The woman looked as if she’d come from the catwalks of Paris, in a shimmering silver dress cut so low in the back Julia was sure one quick turn and her entire rear end would be exposed. She was dripping with brilliant blue sapphires hanging from her ears, neck and both wrists, no doubt an early Christmas gift from Ross.

Julia rolled her eyes as the saying “a fool and his money are soon parted” drifted through her mind. The woman was a barracuda. Once she sank her teeth into a man, she didn’t let go until she’d devoured him and his bank account whole. Julia had tried numerous times to convince Ross that Bridget was shallow and money hungry, but he simply teased her about being jealous and continued his unsavory association with the bitch. All Julia could figure was Bridget must be one hell of a lay because two minutes of listening to her imperious demands would make any sane person run for the hills.

Unfortunately, tonight Julia had been counting on having Ross to hang out with, to ease the awkwardness of being there alone, but apparently Bridget, who supposedly wasn’t going to be able to attend because of a photo shoot in L.A., must have managed to swing a late flight back to the city.

Much to her relief, Scott Jenkins, one of the company’s new accountants, struck up a conversation and Julia, glad to not have Ross see her standing alone looking like a wallflower, was happy to participate. She and Scott spent the night ensconced on one of the couches in the living room laughing and talking and drinking. For once, she felt desirable, even pretty.

Not that she thought she was ugly. The fact was Julia considered herself to be extremely ordinary. Medium height, medium weight, brown hair, brown eyes—boring, boring, boring. She was nothing like the steady stream of supermodels constantly hanging off Ross’s arm. Not that she was jealous, like he thought. Well, not too jealous anyway.

From the way Ross kept looking across the room at her, it was obvious he was as surprised as she was that someone was taking an interest in her. Feeling slightly annoyed by that, and more than a little tipsy, Julia continued to giggle and flirt, pleased to be able to rub Scott’s interest in Ross’s smug face. Maybe now he would finally see her as a real woman, not the little-sister type, whom he constantly felt compelled to take care of and lecture to about her shyness, wasted youth and lack of social life.

Shaking herself for her somewhat-continuing obsession with her editor, Julia tried to focus on the man in front of her. While Scott was attractive, she didn’t feel overwhelmed by his appearance as she did with Ross. Ross Phillips was a natural athlete, who towered over her by at least six inches. It was his chiseled face that served as the model for nearly all of her romantic heroes, although she would never tell the cocky bastard that. He already had an overinflated opinion of himself and she considered it her calling in life to be the one woman to help him keep his feet firmly planted on the ground by not gushing over his every word and smoldering look. Not, of course, that he ever directed any smoldering looks toward her.

Glancing across the room, she studied him. He wore his jet black hair longer than he had when they’d first met, and she liked it. In fact, it was this new rugged look of his that had inspired her to write her first pirate novel, which was turning out to be her best-selling book to date. Shaking herself, Julia stifled a groan at allowing her imagination to continue to dream such an impossible dream. Ross Phillips was her publisher and her best friend. That was it. They had a standing Thursday pizza night because in the world of powerful, wealthy, handsome men like Ross, she was not weekend-date material.

Several hours and glasses of champagne later, Julia found herself in Scott’s arms as he finally worked up the courage to kiss her. She knew she should be embarrassed by this public display of affection, but her head was fuzzy from the alcohol. His kisses were very nice, soft and warm and she was actually anxious for them to continue. It had been ages since someone had kissed her. Scott must have sensed her acquiescence because he helped her stand, and led her up the stairs to one of the house’s beautifully appointed bedrooms.

The rest of the night seemed hazy and slightly unreal as Scott lay across the big four- poster bed with her. She’d missed making out and Scott was certainly reawakening parts of her that had lain dormant for far too long. His lips traveled along her cheek and down the side of her neck. Alarmed, Julia was slightly embarassed to discover her blouse was unbuttoned. It seemed somewhere along the line Scott had grown a few extra hands and she struggled to keep up with them. He was touching her everywhere and yet, when she closed her eyes, it was Ross she saw touching her, kissing her, making her feel so hot. A light breeze touched her thighs as she felt her skirt slowly being lifted and she opened her drowsy eyes, somewhat surprised to find Scott—not Ross—shirtless and digging through his wallet.

“I have a condom in here somewhere,” he said. His words hit her like cold water in the face. Guilt suffused her. She’d been fantasizing about Ross the whole time Scott was touching her. He was a very nice man, but she was not the type to succumb to one-night stands. He deserved her whole attention and desire. Unfortunately, she could provide neither.

Reaching down, she attempted to adjust her skirt. “Uh, Scott,” she began, “I think maybe we should slow down.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Scott crooned, “we’ve got all night. I’m gonna love you good and slow.”

His corny line disgusted her. As did her uncharacteristic actions—she didn’t have sex with strangers at parties. Attempting to rise, she continued, “No, I don’t think you understand. I want to go back downstairs.”

“What? Why?” Scott asked, his voice aghast.

“Please, don’t get me wrong. I think you are a very nice man, but I don’t think we know each other well enough to sleep together.”

Scott laughed coldly. “Everybody at the office said you were an uptight bitch, an ice queen. Guess they were right. Well, sweetheart, fact is you should know better than to go to a bedroom with a stranger. Maybe I should teach you a lesson about what happens to a little girl who acts like a cock tease.”

“Excuse me?” Julia’s voice shook with anger. “Get away from me,” she demanded, trying to shake off his viselike grip on her arm.

“No.” Scott’s voice was infuriatingly calm. “But please feel free to struggle. I like a girl with spirit.”

“You—you,” she stammered, unable for once in her life to come up with the perfect word, the perfect line.

Scott merely laughed as he pushed her back on the bed, straddling her kicking legs. For the first time since she entered the bedroom, Julia felt the cold, clammy hands of fear seize her. Scott’s strength was far superior to hers. He’d seemed like such an affable guy, easygoing and kind. God—what a fool she was.

“I said let me go,” she repeated, beating on Scott’s chest, pushing as hard as possible. Scott continued to laugh until she managed to land one hard slap across his face.

“You little whore,” he snarled, returning her slap with an even harder one across her cheek. Bright lights flashed before her eyes as Julia suddenly understood what it meant to see stars. The sound of fabric tearing roused her from the lingering pain and she fought even harder.

“Stop! No,” she yelled. Surely Ross or someone from the party would hear her if she screamed, and come to investigate. How embarassing. However, her stomach roiled at the thought of this man touching her in any intimate way. Mortified or not, she needed help.

Before she could make a sound, a familiar, beloved voice came from the doorway. “I believe the lady said no.”

Julia had never heard Ross’s voice sound so quiet or menacing. Scott immediately jumped off her and the bed, turning to face his boss.

“I think you misunderstand, Mr. Phillips,” Scott began. “We were just playing. She likes it rough, pretends to struggle, you know how it is.”

“Is that true, Julia?” Ross asked, looking at her for the first time since entering the room. She felt herself blushing as she attempted to cover herself with the remains of her shredded blouse, pulling down her skirt at the same time. Both acts were futile—her hands had chosen that exact moment to begin shaking uncontrollably.

“Good God, no, Ross,” she gasped. “He’s a pig.”

No sooner had the words passed her lips before Ross crossed the room and punched Scott harder than Julia ever imagined a man could. Scott’s eyes rolled up into his head as he fell like a sack of potatoes.

“K.O.,” she whispered, spellbound by Scott’s still form on the floor.

Ross stepped over the unconscious accountant before kneeling at Julia’s feet.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice so kind and full of concern that Julia felt the dam give way as she fell into his embrace, the shock of the moment evaporating, replaced by delayed terror.

“Oh God,” she sobbed as Ross rocked her gently in his arms, whispering soothing words. Her tears flowed, her teeth chattered and her shaking seemed to go on forever. After several long minutes, she struggled to catch her breath before speaking.

“How did you know I was in trouble?” she whispered.

“I’d heard some unsavory rumors about Jenkins around the office. I’ve been keeping an eye on the two of you all night. Unfortunately, I was detained for a few minutes and when I got back, you and Jenkins had vanished. Did he force you here?” he asked softly.

His face was flushed and his own hands were not steady as he reached for the bedquilt and tightened it around her shoulders, studying her face intently.

At her embarrassed blush, she sensed the anger in him begin to rise again as he noticed the red hand print across her left cheek. Taking her chin in his fingers, he turned her face to look at it more closely. The menace she felt building in him seemed almost tangible as he glanced back down at Scott, still prostrate on the floor.

Before he could inflict further pain on the asshole accountant, she muttered, “No, he didn’t force me. I—I mean, he— God, I came here on my own.” Dear Lord. She’d almost willingly let Scott have sex with her.

“I’m taking you home,” Ross said stiffly as he rose and began setting her clothing to rights. Shame suffused her body—Ross was obviously disgusted by her and her actions.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“What?” Ross knelt beside her again, pulling her blouse closed and securing it as much as possible, despite the fact several buttons were missing. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

Julia’s humiliation came back tenfold as Ross efficiently re-dressed her, gently holding her ankles as he slipped her heels back on her feet. Feeling like a child, she added, “I’m an idiot. I thought he was a nice guy. You must think I’m the biggest fool in the world.”

“Oh, Jules, of course I don’t think you’re a fool. I think you’re a sweet, trusting woman who had a little too much to drink. Perhaps you were a bit naïve, but you’ve never been a fool. The fool was me for leaving you unprotected. I knew what kind of man Jenkins was. I should have yanked you away from him the second I saw the two of you talking. I just didn’t think he’d try anything at a work function.”

Julia looked at Ross and trembled at the anger she saw lurking in his eyes.

“Ross—”

“Hush, no more words. You look wiped out, Brown Eyes. I’m taking you home.” Julia smiled at this new endearment before realizing she truly was exhausted. Her eyes began to drift closed before another thought opened them again.

“What about Bridget?”

“She’s a big girl. She can find her own way home.”

“She’ll be pissed off,” Julia muttered, again fighting back sleep.

“That seems to be one of her two permanent states,” Ross answered, gently lifting her into his arms and carrying her across the room as if she weighed no more than a mere babe.

“What’s the other state?” she asked groggily.

“Horny. Go to sleep, Jules. I’ll take care of everything.”

Throwing the last load of firewood on the pile, Julia dropped into the comfy chair in front of the roaring fire, the heat from the flames not the only thing causing her face to flush. She tried not to think of that night, but every now and then it came creeping back to her. She never saw Scott again, although she’d heard through the grapevine Ross had transferred him to God knew where. Asking Ross was a definite impossibility, as they seemed to have reached a tacit agreement never to speak of that night again and she, for one, was glad to avoid the topic. Discussing the biggest act of stupidity of her life with the man of her dreams was something she would never voluntarily do.

All she remembered after falling asleep in his arms that night was waking up the next morning alone in her bed, then managing to avoid him for almost a week before he stopped by with pizza and beer for their standing Thursday-night dinner. He carried in a large pepperoni and mushroom, cracked open a cold one and started talking about his week as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at the Christmas party. Relieved by the reprieve, Julia followed his lead and avoided the subject.

Staring into the flames, she felt herself slipping back into the same melancholy that had taken over in the past few months. Her life was in the gutter and she had no one to blame but herself. Her parents had been killed in a car crash her junior year in college. Blinded by the loss, she’d cut herself off from everyone close to her. She’d moved out of the apartment she shared with two friends, broken off her relationship with her boyfriend and buried herself in her schoolwork. After graduation, she’d rented a small apartment with the little bit of money left to her by her parents, adopted Duke from an animal shelter and poured herself into her writing. By escaping into her romance novels she was able to exist in an exciting world with dashing men who loved their women no matter what. And in the process, she was able to avoid feeling anything real. If you never truly loved, she reasoned, you never truly lost. Love in a fantasy world was safe and painless. None of her characters ever disappointed her by dying or leaving her.

Unfortunately, she was halfway through writing the third book when she realized her money had run out. Unwilling to leave her emotionless sanctuary, she mailed out her first manuscript to twenty different publishers. Nineteen rejections immediately returned. Then her phone rang. Ross Phillips, a young editor with a struggling publishing company he was launching with a friend, invited her in for a meeting. He saw something special in her writing and thought she had what it took to make it big. The rest, as they said, was history. Her books were an immediate success and they helped to skyrocket Ross’s small company into a major contender in the publishing world. Ross was now the chief editor and controlling partner in the firm.

Shaking her head, she chastised herself for falling into the same black despair that had continued to hound her since Duke died. “I’m here to write,” she said aloud, desperate to hear a voice in the quiet of the cabin. At least when Duke had been around she’d never felt crazy for talking to herself. She could justify it by claiming she was talking to the cat.

A loud knock at the door had her jumping up. Suddenly feeling very isolated and unprotected, she scanned the room for some sort of weapon. Spying a big log in her pile of firewood, she grabbed it, cowering in the corner. The pounding on the door continued, louder this time, and Julia’s heart began to race. Who the hell would be on top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere on a day like this? It was a virtual whiteout outside.

“Jules, open the damn door. I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

Ross? She sighed in relief, rushing to unlock the door, and there in the doorway stood her very tall, very wet editor.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, aware her tone was distinctly unfriendly, but he had scared her half to death.

Eyes narrowed, Ross entered the cabin, his arms laden with packages, a large duffel bag thrown over one shoulder, a backpack over the other. “I tried to call, but the phone lines are down,” he answered gruffly.

“My cell?” she asked sarcastically.

“No service up here,” he replied with equal irritation.

“Is something wrong?” She couldn’t imagine what could be so bad it would compel Ross to leave the comfort of his penthouse apartment in New York City to drive for nine hours to the mountains.

“Blizzard.” He unloaded his bags on the kitchen counter. “Headed this way. I was worried you’d be snowed in without enough food.”

Secretly pleased at his incredibly sweet gesture, Julia smiled and helped him unload the soggy paper bags. “You’ve brought enough food for an army.” She gaped at all the meat, vegetables, fruit and snacks he carried in. “I hope you don’t think I need all this to survive. Hey, I didn’t hear a car. How did you get here?”

“By the grace of God and my four-wheel drive. I almost made it all the way to the cabin. The snow is already pretty deep. I got stuck about a mile down the road. Had to walk the rest of the way. Looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a while.” Pulling off his drenched coat, he hung it on the peg by the door.

“My God,” she exclaimed, glancing out the frosted window, “it’s freezing out there and the visibility must be zero. You’re lucky to have made it at all. What the hell were you thinking? You could have been killed.” She put her hands on her hips, suddenly aware of the very real danger he’d just escaped.

“What was I thinking?”

“Yes. Good Lord, Ross, of all the idiotic things to do. What if you’d crashed the car? What if you’d gotten lost in the snow while looking for the cabin? You could have frozen to death.”

Ross shook his head. Clearly, of all the receptions he’d imagined, this nagging scold was not one he’d considered. “I guess, like the idiotic fool I am, I thought you’d be glad to see me. That you’d offer me a warm drink and some supper. I thought you’d be happy not to be stuck up here in this godforsaken cabin alone in a blizzard!”

Biting her lip, she said softly, “Well, I am. Happy, that is. I was feeling rather trapped—and alone.”

As quickly as his anger came, it left him. Smiling, he admitted, “It was a damn stupid thing to do. Unfortunately that fact didn’t occur to me until I was about halfway up the mountain and I realized it was too late to turn around.”

“Let’s get you out of those wet clothes,” she said, suddenly very pleased to have him with her. “I’ll put some water on for tea.”

“Don’t bother with the tea. I brought a bottle of Southern Comfort.” His hands shaking, he attempted, with little success, to tackle the buttons on his soggy flannel shirt. “We are in the South, after all.”

“I’m not sure West Virginia classifies as the South. It’s really sort of the middle. Here, let me.” Pulling his trembling hands away, she quickly unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it off. His skin was like ice to the touch. “You’ll be lucky if you don’t catch pneumonia or frostbite,” she said, unable to resist one more scold. “Come stand by the fire.” Taking his icy hands in hers, she rubbed them lightly. “I’ll get a blanket for you. Stay here and try to get warm.”

Crossing the room, she retrieved a fleece blanket from the foot of the bed as Ross struggled with the button fly on his damp jeans.

“I’ll do that,” she said, concerned for his health. His hands were still trembling and looked blood red and chapped. No doubt he’d lied about how long he’d really been roaming around in the snow and wind.

“Jules,” he started to object, but she was already working the buttons free, concern distracting her from exactly what she was offering to do. When she had the last button unclasped, she grabbed the waistband and started to pull the clinging denim off his legs. The task was harder than she would have thought, but sheer determination and worry kept her going. She struggled for several minutes, working the material down his muscular legs, stopping only to pull off his boots and socks, before finally peeling the jeans completely off.

“There,” she exclaimed, looking up into Ross’s suddenly pained face. Her mouth went dry as she realized that during her exertions she’d knelt in front of him and was now eye level with his barely clad cock straining through the material of his silk boxer shorts. This part of him certainly gave new meaning to the term “frozen stiff”.

“I—” she stumbled, unwilling to take her eyes off his very large appendage. She was sure she’d never seen anything quite so big and her curiosity outweighed her embarrassment.

“My God,” she whispered, awestruck as the monstrous cock seemed to grow even larger before her eyes. Without a thought, she reached up and nearly touched it before a growl above her and a strong hand on her wrist stopped her.

“Brown Eyes,” Ross said, his deep voice flowing over her like honey, “if you don’t move away from that this minute, I’ll keep you kneeling there the rest of the night.”

Gasping, Julia rose quickly, painfully aware she was not as averse to his threat as she should be. She’d never sucked on a man’s cock before, had never even wanted to until she’d read those damned erotic novels Ross had given her. Now all she could think about was trying to give him a blowjob. Lord, she was losing her mind.

“I’ll get you something to eat,” she muttered, escaping to the far side of the cabin.

Erotic Research is available at Samhain, Amazon,  Barnes and Noble, Sony, and All Romance Ebooks.

Start the new year…

…with a series. I’m sort of at a loss for what to do with myself this January. In the past few years, I’ve always had a January release to promote. Sadly…my new releases for 2014 don’t hit until February. Which leaves me with a wee bit of time on my hands…heehee…

I thought I’d spend the first month of 2014 trying to tempt you. I have quite a few complete series out. I know there are lots of folks out there who don’t like to start a series until all the books are available. Believe me, I feel your pain. Spent lots of excruciating months of my life waiting for the NEXT book…be it Harry Potter or Outlander or countless other series. I’m not the most patient of people, so when folks ask me…are all the books out in this series? I get where they’re coming from.

So…in January, I’m sharing the first chapter of the first book in every COMPLETED series I’ve written and I thought I’d start with one of my all-time favorites–the Wild Irish series. There are 8 books in all and they each feature a different sibling in the Collins family, who live and work in the family’s Irish pub in Baltimore, Maryland.

Come Monday is the first.

Monday’s Child

Monday’s child is fair of face,

Tuesday’s child is full of grace,

Wednesday’s child is full of woe,

Thursday’s child has far to go,

Friday’s child is loving and giving,

Saturday’s child works hard for a living,

But the child who is born on the Sabbath day,

Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.

~Traditional nursery rhyme

Chapter One

Keira Collins stared at the paper in her hands and bit back the growl of frustration that bubbled beneath the surface. She’d received another C-plus. Professor Wallace had finished handing out the graded work and was beginning his lesson on the importance of dialogue in fictional writing.

Screw him and his damn quotation marks.

She’d only taken this creative writing class on the advice of her advisor, who claimed she needed another English credit to fulfill the college’s stupid general education requirements. So far she’d taken two years’ worth of what she called “High School, the Sequel”, all without setting foot in a single class in her major program. She wanted a degree in business technology, not to be the next freaking Nora Roberts.

The worst part of this class was, she knew her papers were perfect. English had always been one of her best classes in high school. She knew how to write a complete sentence—unlike Roy Decker. She glanced at the nineteen-year-old frat boy next to her to try to see what grade he’d gotten. She’d been paired up with Roy as critique partners the first week of class back in January. All that basically meant was she practically rewrote every word of his papers while he stared at hers and said, “This is real good.”

Roy caught her gaze and flashed his paper toward her with an enormous grin, another C-minus, which apparently delighted the slack-ass boy to no end.

Great. They’d both gotten C’s…again.

Her temper rose and she shot daggers at the back of her professor’s head as he wrote the proper way to punctuate dialogue within a sentence on the white board. She’d tried—really tried—to use the man’s asinine comments to improve with each paper, but it was clear she was beating her head against a brick wall—a six-foot-two-inch brick wall with light brown hair and soulful, deep brown eyes.

Crap, why did her teacher have to be so hot? He made her think completely inappropriate thoughts and she’d be damned if she became a cliché—the college coed who falls in love with her professor.

She’d refused to question Professor Wallace personally about her papers because the idea of being anywhere alone with him intimidated the hell out of her. When he looked at her, she felt as if he saw way more than just the surface and she was uncomfortable under his all-knowing gaze. Usually she kept her eyes averted as she took notes from the man’s lectures lest she unwittingly reveal her less-than-scholarly interest in him.

But now it was mid-April, just two weeks from the end of the semester, and she’d finally hit her limit on all these damn C’s. He was younger than most of her college professors—somewhere in his mid-thirties, she guessed, which should make him more approachable, not less. At twenty-seven, she was just old enough to feel completely out of place on campus as she watched the barely-out-of-their-teens student body discussing last weekend’s wild parties. She should be old enough, mature enough to face Professor Wallace without babbling like a child. But there was something about the man. She didn’t have trouble telling anyone what she thought and she considered herself a fairly independent, outspoken woman…with everyone except him.

He turned back toward the class and caught her eye. In the past, she would have scrambled to avoid that intense look. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and held his gaze. He stumbled momentarily over his words and she felt a small, petty smile curve the side of her lips.

She’d shaken Mr. Unshakable. Caused Mr. Perfect to lose his implacable cool.

He recovered quickly, finishing his thought, but his eyes refused to move from hers and she felt the moment stretching into a battle of wills. For several minutes, he continued to speak as if she were the only person in the room while she merely stared, not bothering to write down a word of his lecture. She’d pay for that stubbornness later, but right now the only thing that mattered was winning this war.

“Um, Professor Wallace.” Roy’s hand went up, forcing both of them to break their concentration.

“Yes, Mr. Decker.”

“It’s time for class to be over.”

Professor Wallace grinned and Keira sucked in a deep breath at the sight. For a moment her confidence, her determination wavered and she considered avoiding the coming confrontation once again.

“So it is. I want you to bring rough drafts of a five-page short story to class next time. There must be a lengthy dialogue included in the story. Class dismissed. Miss Collins,” Professor Wallace added as she rose. “Please follow me to my office. I’d like to speak to you about your paper.”

Shit. Double shit.

She’d gone too far apparently, tempted the bear from his den and he had taken the decision to discuss her grade out of her hands.

She stiffened her spine and watched the other students file out as she gathered her things. Once the room was empty, the professor gestured for her to precede him down the hall. She knew where his office was, having stood outside the closed door on more than one occasion debating whether or not to knock and question his grading practices. She’d never managed to work up the nerve. She was starting to think she wouldn’t have held on to it tonight either.

They approached his office door and he unlocked it, again motioning for her to lead the way. As she entered the room, she heard the door close behind them.

She turned and glanced at the closed door. He followed her gaze.

“I want to ensure that we aren’t disturbed.” His words, though spoken lightly, sent a shiver of fear through her. His voice was deep, sensuous, and she found her thoughts drifting to places best left unexplored.

“How old are you, Miss Collins?” he asked.

She was taken aback by his unexpected question. “I’m twenty-seven. Why?”

“You’re considerably older than the other students in the class.” His reply was succinct, but far from an answer.

She didn’t think it was any mystery that she was older than most of her classmates.

“I don’t consider seven, eight years such a vast gap.”

He grinned at her and again she felt overwhelmed by the power of his close proximity. Every time the man got within five feet of her, her body shifted into overdrive. Her nipples were erect, her breathing stilted, her stomach tied in knots.

“I agree. It isn’t,” he assured her, and she realized at that moment he wasn’t completely unaffected by their nearness either. He seemed slightly nervous as well. “You don’t live on campus, do you?”

As he spoke, his eyes covertly traveled down her body and she was struck by the fact that his wayward glance didn’t bother her, as it did when patrons of the restaurant where she worked did the same. His look seemed to be more appraising, almost clinical, while with other men the look couldn’t be called anything more than a leer, an unsavory study of her body. She’d long ago accepted that men found her pretty. With waist-length, wavy black hair, porcelain skin and ice blue eyes, she’d fought off more than her share of unwanted attention. Of course, it helped that she had four enormous, overprotective brothers at her back.

“No, I don’t live on campus,” she replied. She still lived at home with her father and siblings, still worked as a waitress at the family business, still did everything the same as she had when she was a teenager. She sighed as she considered his question and how dull her life truly was.

Her mother had passed away midway through her senior year and the raising of her six younger brothers and sisters had fallen to her. Not that her father had ever charged her with that duty. As the oldest, she’d simply assumed the role because, well, there hadn’t been anyone else and because she loved her family almost to the exclusion of everything else. She wondered sometimes if she’d almost lost her own identity in that love.

She glanced at the clock that hung on his wall. Five fifteen. She only had forty-five minutes to weave her way out of this unusual conversation and bust ass across town to be at work by six.

“You have some concerns about your grade, I believe.” His astute comment, on the heels of his strange questions, left her reeling.

“Um, yes,” she began, struggling to speak her mind under his intense gaze.

What would he look like without any clothes on?

That inappropriate question sent a flush of heat to her face and she watched his gaze narrow, his lips twitch slightly. He couldn’t know what she was thinking. Could he?

“I don’t understand why you keep giving me C’s.”

“I don’t give grades, Miss Collins. My students earn them.”

She rolled her eyes at the old teacher line and was surprised when her reaction provoked a light laugh from the man.

“I used to hate it when my teachers used that answer on me as well,” he admitted.

“My papers are grammatically correct. I include paragraphs, proper punctuation and I know the spelling is flawless.”

“And this, to you, indicates A work?” he asked.

“Yes.” She looked up at him, wondering how they’d gotten so close. She could have sworn when they’d begun this conversation, he’d been halfway across the room. Had she moved? Had he?

“I’ve given you suggestions on every paper.”

She scoffed. “The same suggestion on every paper and it doesn’t make any sense. You say my writing lacks emotion. I’ve tried to address that, but you still say the same thing, every time. And you gave Roy Decker the same damn grade. His paper sucked.”

“Miss Collins, this course is over in two weeks. Why are you only now questioning your grades? That comment?”

Frustration and weariness won out in her fight to maintain her anger. She still had an eight-hour shift to work. “I guess I thought I could figure it out on my own, but I can’t. Fact is, I don’t understand what you want from me.”

He paused and for a moment she thought her question had taken him unaware, or somehow lowered his guard. “I want quite a lot from you actually.”

She glanced at his face and was struck by the strange notion that his answer meant far more than schoolwork.

He must have recognized her confused look as he clarified, “I know what my students are capable of and I grade their work on an individual basis, on what I know they’re able to produce. I’m sorry, but I won’t discuss Roy’s grade with you.”

His laugh lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled as the beginning of his gorgeous grin peeked out again. She closed her eyes to block out the mouthwatering sight. She was fighting some serious arousal issues right now.

“I have high expectations of you because I know you are capable of writing something truly wonderful. There is more to writing than simply dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s.”

“I understand that. I just don’t know how to do what you’re asking.”

“Bring your papers—all of them—tomorrow. My first office hour starts at nine. Can you be here by then?”

She nodded. “Why?”

“We’ll compromise. I’m going to show you what I mean about adding emotion to your writing and you’re going to revise every paper, and then I’ll re-grade them.”

“We’ve written quite a few things,” she said, trying not to have a nervous breakdown. Finals were approaching and the thought of rewriting nearly a dozen assignments made her want to cry. However, the idea of doing so much work paled in comparison to the thought of spending even more time alone with Professor Wallace.

“It may take us several meetings to get through all of them, Miss Collins.”

“Keira,” she said without thinking.

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Keira.”

He nodded. “Keira.”

Electricity shot through her body at the sound of her name spoken in his deep, sensual voice. For a moment, she envisioned herself tied spread-eagle to his bed as he whispered her name again.

Tied to his bed? What the hell kind of image was that? She blushed again as he took one step closer. She swallowed heavily when his gaze landed on her lips. Her tongue darted out to moisten them before she considered what her action might insinuate.

Was she inviting this? Him? To kiss her?

She struggled to breathe as they stood spellbound, motionless for one long moment.

He recovered first, clearing his throat and stepping away. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning then.”

She nodded, relieved—and oddly disappointed—to be granted so quick a reprieve. She turned toward the exit, ready to beat a hasty retreat.

“Oh and Keira,” he said as she reached to open the door. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Don’t be late.” His words were spoken lightly, but she sensed a darker, more thrilling underlying meaning. The words or I’ll punish you hovered unspoken between them.

She held his gaze, nodded once and left.

* * * * *

“You’re late,” Tristan called out from behind the bar.

“So fire me,” she yelled back, glad there were at least some perks to working in the family business. She and her siblings could give each other hell for anything and everything at work, but all of them would still be employed in the morning.

“I was starting to worry about you, Kiki,” her father said as he bustled out of the kitchen with a loaded tray in his hands. He gave her a quick buss on the cheek as he passed and she struggled not to roll her eyes at the pet nickname. She’d broken her siblings of using the annoying name years ago through sheer brute force and now they only used it in the midst of an argument because they knew how much the silly name irritated her.

“I’m sorry, Pop. Traffic was terrible. What are you doing carrying that heavy tray?” The doctor had issued a serious warning to her father regarding his high blood pressure in his last checkup and, as a result, she was determined to see him working less and resting more. The only reason she’d gotten him to the doctor at all was because he’d had a couple of dizzy spells. It had scared her to death so she’d sicced Teagan, her younger sister on him. Pop couldn’t resist Teagan’s puppy dog eyes or sweet, baby girl pleading.

To make matters worse, his high cholesterol was giving his off-the-charts blood pressure a run for its money, so the doctor had prescribed medication and a vacation. Unfortunately, telling Patrick Collins to relax was sort of like trying to convince the Pope to convert to Scientology.

“It’s not heavy.”

She fought back a groan of frustration. Damn man would work himself into an early grave. That thought, as always, scared the hell out of her and she dashed toward the stairs that led to their home above the restaurant. “Let me go throw on my uniform and I’ll take over.”

“Take your time. I’ve got things in hand here. The real dinner rush is only just starting,” Pop answered, placing food in front of a couple of regulars before coming over to her with the empty tray in his hands.

“You’re not supposed to be doing any lifting. Hell, you aren’t supposed to be working at all. I thought we agreed that you’d take a couple of weeks off.”

“Now don’t you go lecturing me, Kiki. I’m older and wiser than you. That doctor is a flake, trying to get me to spend my hard-earned money on a bunch of useless pills.” This argument was tedious in its redundancy. Patrick Collins was king of the conspiracy theorists, sure everyone from lawyers to doctors to pharmacists were secret government agents dead-set on taking his money.

He tapped his chest as he spoke and Keira sighed. “Who knows what this body can do? Me, that’s who. This ticker has plenty more mileage on it.”

Keira gave in, only because she was anxious to continue the fight in her uniform so at least she could be waiting on the tables and cutting down on some of her father’s workload.

“Fine, Pop. You win for now. Let me go change and I’ll help you.”

As she climbed the stairs to the family’s living quarters, she ran into Sean, her youngest brother, at the door. She loved all her siblings dearly but if forced to decide, she had to admit to a special fondness for the eighteen-year-old Sean. Perhaps it was because he felt more like her own child, rather than just a brother. While she’d merely taken on the mother role figuratively in her other siblings’ lives, she truly had raised Sean, who had only been nine when their mother died.

“Where are you going?” she asked as he put on his coat. “It’s a school night.” Even as she asked the question, she internally winced. She just couldn’t seem to kick the mother hen habit where he was concerned.

“Big history project due tomorrow. I’m going to Chad’s house to work on it.”

“Oh, okay. Well listen, don’t be too late. Did you eat something?”

“Chad’s mom’s having lasagna. She invited me to eat with them.”

“Sorry about dinner,” she said, guilt pummeling her. Prior to her decision to attend college, she’d always made sure there was at least something on the table for dinner. Her mother had ensured the family gathered for dinner upstairs, away from the hubbub of the restaurant, and for years Keira had managed to maintain that tradition. In many ways, she felt as though she was letting her family down through her decision to continue her education.

Sean grinned and gave her a quick hug. “Are you kidding me? Chad’s mom makes the world’s greatest lasagna. She makes it from scratch.”

She laughed. “What? You mean people actually eat lasagna that doesn’t come in a box marked Stouffer’s? You’re kidding me.”

“Riley would flip out to hear you even mention frozen lasagna.”

Keira nodded. “Yeah well, that’s clearly why she took over the cooking duties as soon as she was old enough.” Riley was destined to become the greatest chef in Baltimore. Despite being only twenty-one, she was setting the city on its ear with her delicious recipes. Since she’d assumed the role as chef in the restaurant, business had nearly doubled as folks came from far and near to eat her traditional Irish dishes.

“I gotta go or I’ll be late. See you later, Keira.”

“Bye, Sean. Be careful.” He rolled his eyes at her warning. It was the same warning she gave him every time he left the house. They were the identical words her mother had always said to her and she was determined Sean would have the same life he would have had if their mother hadn’t been taken from him when he was so young.

She changed quickly and returned to the restaurant just in time for the dinner rush. She was so busy she didn’t have time to worry about the prospect of returning to Professor Wallace’s office until she fell into bed that night. It was well after two a.m. and she knew she should be too tired to think, but her mind kept lingering on a dangerous, delicious fantasy.

In her thoughts, she’d overslept and was running late…

She rushed into Professor Wallace’s office shortly after nine with an apology hovering on her lips.

“Shut the door, Miss Collins,” he said before she could speak. “And lock it.”

She obeyed, wondering at his too-calm disposition.

“Come here.”

Again she complied and a tiny part of her marveled at his ability to make her follow his commands. She wasn’t the type of person to take orders easily from anyone. She’d spent far too much of her life in charge, the responsibility of caring for her family weighing heavily on her shoulders.

“You’re late,” he said.

Again she started to apologize, but he placed a firm finger against her lips, halting all sound.

“I warned you.”

She nodded.

“Turn around and bend over the desk. Lift your skirt in the back.”

She shivered at his request before her fantasy broke briefly.

Why am I wearing a skirt? I never wear them.

Shrugging off the wayward thought, she bent over his big desk, her mind only slightly aware of the fact the surface had been cleared.

His hand lightly brushed the back of her thigh as he helped her raise her skirt to her waist. She whimpered softly at the impact of his touch.

“Shh,” he soothed. “This is for your own good.” As he spoke, he brought his hand down against her buttocks. Over and over he spanked her as she trembled against the wooden desk. Her body revolted against her mind, the ingrained part of her that said this was wrong, as she lurched back, aching for more of his blows. His hand fell without restraint, without ceasing, and before she could make sense of what was happening, she came. Loudly.

“Ahh!” Keira bolted upright in bed and glanced around, afraid she’d woken her sisters with her cry. Riley and Teagan didn’t stir, a fact for which she was grateful. They’d think she’d had a nightmare and there was no way she could explain that fantasy to them.

She silently gasped for breath, her body trembling, demanding the climax she’d dangled in front of it then ruthlessly denied. A trickle of sweat ran down her cheek. She wiped it away, wrapping her arms around her bent knees, trying to regain some semblance of control.

She’d never fantasized about such things before entering Professor Wallace’s class. In the four short months she’d been his student, her mind had wandered to so many dark, forbidden places she wondered if the man had somehow hypnotized her. She’d never experienced such intense, powerful fantasies. She took a deep, calming breath and lay down again.

Figured. Her first real taste of hardcore, passionate need and it was directed at a man who was completely unattainable. He was her teacher, for God’s sake. She glanced at the clock. In six hours she would be alone with him—and heaven help her, because she was sure she’d never be able to hide her desires from his too-knowledgeable gaze.

He was too perceptive, too attentive.

Too everything.

Come Monday is available at Ellora’s Cave, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, All Romance Ebooks, and Sony.

And I want to wish everyone the happiest of New Years. Here’s hoping 2014 is your best year yet!

Dare to Love

My friend, Carly Phillips, released a new book a couple of weeks ago and I wanted to give her a big shout-out. I love me some Carly!

New York Times Bestselling Author Carly Phillips turns up the heat in her newest sexy contemporary romance series, and introduces you to the Dare family… siblings shaped by a father’s secrets and betrayal.

Since finding out his father had another family on the side, Ian Dare swore to be the upstanding, responsible man his cheating parent had never been. When it comes to his relatives, he gives his all but in relationships he offers the bare minimum. But one glimpse of sensual Riley Taylor arouses his dominant and protective instincts and Ian is entranced. He will do anything to possess her … and does. But any future with Riley must include him extending an olive branch to the half-brother who is a constant reminder of the pain he’d rather forget.

Independent and always in control, Riley Taylor makes no apologies for choosing men carefully. Relationships have never been a priority and she believes herself hardened to domineering men – until she meets charismatic Ian Dare. He manages to turn a simple kiss into an all out assault on her senses and when he takes control in the bedroom, she’s stunned to discover she likes it. As their affair heats up, they soon realize they complete each other in ways neither imagined. But Riley’s past is closer than she cares to remember, and her struggles with Ian’s dominance might just cost her everything.

Sparks fly when Ian spots Riley at his father’s birthday party… on the arm of another man.

 Excerpt:

Once a year, the Dare siblings gathered at the Club Meridian Ballroom in South Florida to celebrate the birthday of the father many of them despised.  Ian Dare raised his glass filled with Glenlivet and took a sip, letting the slow burn of fine scotch work its way down his throat and into his system.  He’d need another before he fully relaxed.

“Hi, big brother.”  His sister Olivia strode up to him and nudged him with her elbow.

“Watch the drink,” he said, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders for an affectionate hug.  “Hi, Olivia.”

She returned the gesture with a quick kiss on his cheek.  “It’s nice of you to be here.”

He shrugged.  “I’m here for Avery and for you.  Although why you two forgave him—”

“Uh-uh.  Not here.”  She wagged a finger in front of his face.  “If I have to put on a dress, we’re going to act civilized.”

Ian stepped back and took in his twenty-four-year-old sister for the first time.  Wearing a gold gown, her dark hair up in a chic twist, it was hard to believe she was the same bane of his existence who’d chased after him and his friends until they relented and let her play ball with them.

“You look gorgeous,” he said to her.

She grinned.  “You have to say that.”

“I don’t.  And I mean it.  I’ll have to beat men off with sticks when they see you.”  The thought darkened his mood.

“You do and I’ll have your housekeeper short-sheet your bed!  Again, there should be perks to getting dressed like this, and getting laid should be one of them.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” he muttered and took another sip of his drink.

“You not only promised to come tonight, you swore you’d behave.”

Ian scowled.  “Good behavior ought to be optional considering the way he flaunts his assets,” he said with a nod toward where Robert Dare held court.

Around him sat his second wife of nine years, Savannah Dare, and their daughter, Sienna, along with their nearest and dearest country club friends.  Missing were their other two sons, but they’d show up soon.

Olivia placed a hand on his shoulder.  “He loves her, you know.  And Mom’s made her peace.”

“Mom had no choice once she found out about her.”

Robert Dare had met the much younger Savannah Sheppard and, to hear him tell it, fallen instantly in love.  She was now the mother of his four other children, the oldest of whom was twenty-five.  Ian had just turned thirty.  Anyone could do the math and come up with two families at the same time.  The man was beyond fertile, that was for damned sure.

At the reminder, Ian finished his drink and placed the tumbler on a passing server’s tray.  “I showed my face.  I’m out of here.”  He started for the exit.

“Ian, hold on,” his sister said, frustration in her tone.

“What? Do you want me to wait until they sing ‘Happy Birthday’? No thanks.  I’m leaving.”

Before they could continue the discussion, their half brother Alex strode through the double entrance with a spectacular-looking woman holding tightly to his arm, and Ian’s plans changed.

Because of her.

 

Some people had presence; others merely wished they possessed that magic something.  In her bold, red dress and fuck-me heels, she owned the room.  And he wanted to own her.  Petite and curvy, with long, chocolate-brown hair that fell down her back in wild curls, she was the antithesis of every too-thin female he’d dated and kept at arm’s length.  But she was with his half brother, which meant he had to steer clear.

“I thought you were leaving,” Olivia said from beside him.

“I am.”  He should.  If he could tear his gaze away from her.

“If you wait for Tyler and Scott, you might just relax enough to have fun,” she said of their brothers.  “Come on, please?” Olivia used the pleading tone he never could resist.

“Yeah, please, Ian? Come on,” his sister Avery said, joining them, looking equally mature in a silver gown that showed way too much cleavage.  At twenty-two, she was similar in coloring and looks to Olivia, and he wasn’t any more ready to think of her as a grown-up—never mind letting other men ogle her—than he was with her sister.

Ian set his jaw, amazed these two hadn’t been the death of him yet.

“So what am I begging him to do?” Avery asked Olivia.

Olivia grinned.  “I want him to stay and hang out for a while.  Having fun is probably out of the question, but I’m trying to persuade him to let loose.”

“Brat,” he muttered, unable to hold back a smile at Olivia’s persistence.

He stole another glance at his lady in red.  He could no more leave than he could approach her, he thought, frustrated because he was a man of action, and right now, he could do nothing but watch her.

“Well?” Olivia asked.

He forced his gaze to his sister and smiled.  “Because you two asked so nicely, I’ll stay.”  But his attention remained on the woman now dancing and laughing with his half brother.

Buy Links:

Kindle - http://amzn.to/1jeAU7a
Nook - http://bit.ly/19Bvu1J
paperback - http://amzn.to/HTEpUS
All other - www.carlyphillips.com

Christmas Curveball

Shari Mikels is stopping by today to help spread a bit of holiday cheer AND a great new story. Christmas Curveball is part of an anthology, For My Own, that released at Carina earlier this month. If you’re looking for a wonderful holiday read, you can’t go wrong with this story! And if you’d like to get to know Shari better, check out her Facebook page.

When newly-single Rachel Tanner finds out that pro pitcher Kevin Ganlin has come home to recover from an injury, her heart skips a beat. She’s loved him from afar since her preteen years, never bold enough to let him know.

Kevin is less than thrilled when Rachel shows up at his doorstep. She’s his best friend’s little sister and officially off limits. Besides, he’s staring early retirement in the face, a one-man pity-party with no interest in anything more serious than quick flings on the road. Until an icy mishap lands Rachel cozied up on his sofa, irresistible in his practice sweats.

A little game of Truth or Truth reveals much more than Rachel had ever dared to hope and leads to a midnight make-out session that leaves them both panting. But can she trust that he’s truly changed his ways? This Christmas, Kevin will do whatever it takes to make Rachel understand she’s the only one for him.

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Rachel Tanner pulled up in front of her parents’ house, the lights from their Christmas tree in the living room window giving off an ethereal glow through the pouring rain.

Her school kids had been wired all week long, the excitement of Christmas vacation too much for them to handle sitting still in class, listening to her lessons. She was as mentally drained from trying to keep their attentions focused as they had been trying to talk about nothing but the presents they might be getting.

She got out of her car and made the mad dash to the protection of the porch. It wrapped around to both sides of the house from the front. As she opened the door, she was greeted with the smells of her mom’s cooking. Even though they got together as a family most Friday nights, Rachel hoped she never took her mom’s meals for granted. During her marriage, Rachel had missed the sense of home the food gave her, and after her separation and subsequent divorce, those meals had brought her comfort. They still did. Fresh bread was the overwhelming aroma tonight, with a hint of cookies that must’ve been baked earlier in the day.

She hung her wet coat and hat on the hooks by the door, and slid her wet shoes off, pushing them under the shoe bench located on the same wall as the hooks.

A noise from the living room had her turning around, and she saw her brother working on something. Perfect. Just the man she wanted to see.

“Why didn’t you send me a text or something to let me know Kevin was back in town?” It hurt that her brother hadn’t told her this little tidbit. So what if he didn’t know her every spare thought was devoted to Kevin? He still should’ve told her.

“What? Shhh. Keep your voice down.” He was practically hissing the words at her. “And what are you talking about?” His body went rigid, defensive. Weird.

“Why should I keep my voice down?”

“What makes you think Kevin’s back in town?” His voice was barely above a whisper now.

“Are we playing Questions Only?”

“Could you answer my question first?”

Rachel let out a huff of frustration. “Fine. On the way here, I stopped to get my windshield wipers replaced. While I was waiting, I saw a brand-new pickup truck pull out of the gas station next to Gary’s Garage. No one else has a BASEBALL license plate. By the time it registered it was Kevin’s license plate on a new vehicle, he was already long gone.”

Tim swore under his breath.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Kevin doesn’t want anyone to know he’s back in town yet—not even his family. And if Mom finds out he’s home, his mom will find out soon after.”

“Not even his family? That makes no sense.” If there was one thing she knew about Kevin Ganlin, it was that he loved his parents more than anyone else in the world. “His mom’s going to want to see him. Why wouldn’t he want his parents knowing? And for that matter, if he doesn’t want anyone knowing, why would he tell you?” And not me?

Tim sighed. “I’m going to be helping him out with his recovery, so I needed to know. It’s not for very long. He just needs to work through some things and wasn’t ready to bother them yet.”

“What on earth could you possibly do to help him with an arm injury? Unless that’s a euphemism for being his usual wingman.”

“We haven’t gone out together in ages, and it’s been even longer than that since I’ve been his wingman.”

“Right. Because he wasn’t fishing for girls last winter.”

Tim opened his mouth to respond, then shut it again, looking like he was really pondering something. After a few moments, “Actually, we did stuff together while he was home, but we didn’t go out like that. I don’t think we’ve been out cruising for girls since you moved back to Winston.”

Now Rachel was confused. Kevin Ganlin was the very definition of womanizer. Being a major league baseball pitcher meant he had groupies at every game ready to sleep with him. She’d seen them at the entrance to the team tunnel, holding signs or wearing shirts offering to do whatever the players wanted.

Which meant only one thing—her brother’s memory was going now that he was in his mid-thirties. Sad.

“That still doesn’t explain why he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s back home. Especially since he had to miss Thanksgiving because of the physical therapy.”

“He needs a chance to work through some things and he can’t do that with everyone giving him their opinions on what he should or shouldn’t do.”

“Should or shouldn’t do about what?”

“I’ve already said too much. Stop asking questions that I can’t give you the answers to.”

“But you haven’t told me anything except to confirm that he’s back in town.”

“Good. Now don’t go saying anything to Mom because she’ll go straight to Marian.”

“How is it you’re supposed to help him with his recovery?”

“Not saying a word.”

“Why?”

“I promised.”

“Oh.”

“So please, I’m begging you, don’t mention this to Mom. Like I said, she’ll be on the phone to Kevin’s mom in a heartbeat.”

Rachel didn’t know what was going on, but she could keep her mouth shut until she could find out. Especially with Tim begging her. He never did that unless it was extremely important. “My lips are sealed.”

“Thanks, kiddo.”

“I’m not a kiddo.”

“You’re shorter and younger than anyone else around here.”

“Fine.” She turned to walk away, but stopped. “Hey, can you at least tell me why he’s driving a truck now? What happened to his car?”

At first she thought her brother wasn’t going to answer her, he took so long thinking about his response.

“A truck better suits his needs now.”

Oh good. Another puzzle piece. “Whatever.”

“Rach, let this go. You’ll understand soon enough.” He studied her. “I see that look. This isn’t a mystery for you to solve.”

Stupid face, giving her thoughts away yet again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m serious. Let him figure stuff out in peace, without you bugging him.”

“Bugging him? You make it sound like I’m a teenager.” She stopped herself in time from adding on who has a crush on a guy. What she felt for Kevin went so far beyond crush, it wasn’t even funny. Crush was the stage she was at during her preteen and early teen years. In love except for the womanizing part of him stage had been going on for more than a decade.

“That look on your face says you’re ready to stir up trouble.”

Close, but he didn’t need to know that. “Once again, I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. “I’m going to check out what all Mom’s made that smells so good.”

She took off for the kitchen, and as she rounded the corner, she heard, “Brat.”

 

 

The drive to Kevin’s mountain house wasn’t the prettiest Rachel had ever seen, not with all the trees bare, except for the evergreens, of course. The peacefulness, though, was incredible. There hadn’t been much traffic since she’d turned off the highway to follow one of the only roads available to get to Brown Mountain.

Her GPS beeped at her and told her to turn left. The driveway appeared, but if the navigation system hadn’t told her there was a driveway there, she would’ve missed it. His mailbox was on the opposite side of the road, and that’s where she’d been looking.

A mixture of loblolly pines and hardwoods made walls lining Kevin’s gravel driveway. The sprawling branches of majestic old oaks, their dead brown leaves hanging tight to the branches, intertwined their limbs above the driveway, creating a tunnel and blocking out what little light could be seen on the cold, dismally rainy day.

The driveway had gravel missing from some spots, which created pot holes for rain to gather and form mud puddles that splashed Rachel’s car body every time she hit one. The unevenness reminded her of an amusement park ride as the riders have no idea which way to lean their bodies while trying to ride out the jerkiness.

Even though he still had his townhouse in Winston, if he was spending any kind of time at a mountain house this winter, she could see why he needed a truck to get around.

The trees disappeared and in front of her was what looked like an open meadow, laid out before a beautiful one-and-a-half-story house. The meadow masqueraded as a front yard, and there were small green plants lining a small raised path from the front steps to the driveway. Lining the length of the front porch were even more plants, tucked against the trellis that dropped from the base of the porch to the ground. Unless Kevin had been in town a lot longer than she realized, he must’ve hired someone to work on the landscaping.

The driveway came up on the left side of the house, and a two-car garage sat before her. The front porch wound around the right side of the house and disappeared from sight. The left side ended at the garage, which jutted toward her.

The house used a mixture of stone and rustic wood to make its walls, with the wood making up the outlines of the house frame. Four windows on the top floor faced the front, while the right side of the first floor was lined with windows. Two chimneys rose above the roof line, one on the left of the house and the other on the right.

It was beautiful.

She parked her car in front of the garage and started up the path toward the front steps. As she got closer to the porch, the gravel nearest the porch had been replaced with stone pavers, which she couldn’t see when she was in her car. It looked like progress on placing the pavers had been halted due to the weather, as there was a gap of a few feet between where the gravel stopped and the pavers began.

The design in the stone path was intricate and some of the plants were more mature than she’d realized. Was he going to use this as a mountain retreat for himself? Rent it out during baseball season? Whatever he decided to do with it, the outside—both landscape and house exterior—worked well together to form the perfect getaway.

After hopping over the gap, she noticed the front porch was even wider than she’d originally thought, and a double swing hung at the left corner of the house, placed diagonally to view everything from the driveway across the length of the meadow. The swing was tucked back just enough that the garage wall provided protection from strong winds. So cool.

The door swung open in front of her and she jumped.

“What are you doing here?” The words were practically growled at her, but the man behind the words was just as good-looking as he’d ever been.

Dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt hanging open over a henley tee, Kevin stretched his left arm along the door frame he leaned against. The man was sex on a stick. Of course, too many women knew he was sex on a stick and had gotten to experience—yeah, that was part of the problem. She pushed any jealous thoughts she may or may not be having aside.

“Wow. I think I need to tell your mom she’s got her work cut out for her with your manners. You seem to have forgotten all of her lessons.”

“Why are you here?” This time the words came out through gritted teeth and she hid the smile that threatened to give her away. She loved getting him all riled up.

“And a fine howdy do to you too. I just got here. I can’t possibly be on your nerves already.” Of course she could, but she wasn’t going to admit that to anyone but herself.

“Did Tim tell you I was here?”

“No. The dumbass kept your secret like a good best friend.”

“Then how’d you find out—”

“There’s only one vehicle in the state that has the license plate BASEBALL. The fact that it’s on a truck now instead of a car confused me for just a few seconds. You outed yourself.”

“I knew I should’ve gone a different route.”

“Please. You couldn’t possibly have known I was at Gary’s getting new windshield wipers.”

“What were you doing out there?”

“I work in Boyle’s Chapel now.”

“You’re not still teaching?”

“I am, but I got a first-grade position at their elementary school.”

“That’s great. Glad that worked out for you.” Uh-oh, was he actually going to drop the annoyed act?

“Yeah, I’m pretty happy.” She tilted her head to the side. “See how easy it is to be nice?”

“Hmph.”

“Why are you home and why don’t you want your family to know?”

“You haven’t answered my original questions, why should I answer yours?”

“You mean the rude ‘Why are you here?’ question?” She crossed her arms and gave him the look she gave her school kids when she was fed up with their mess.

Kevin groaned and dropped his head and arm. Haha, the look seemed to work on men as well as students. Or at least this man. Good to know.

“I need some time to work through some things.”

“So I heard. Now I’d like the non-baloney answer.”

“Why do you care?”

He had her there. She couldn’t exactly admit to being obsessed with him for too long, to being in love with him long before he became the Kevin Ganlin.

“You’re Tim’s friend. I followed the news about your injury—” he winced, “—and your mom really missed you at Thanksgiving.” That had him turning away from her.

“Let it go, Rach. Please.”

He sounded defeated. That wasn’t her Kevin. Not that he was ever her Kevin, but the Kevin she knew had never been defeated, at least not personally.

Seeing him like this pushed every protective instinct she had to the forefront. He was hurting, which in her world meant she had to do something.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“Just what I said. Get in your car and go back home.”

No way, no how. He wasn’t acting like himself, and she wasn’t going to let him get away with his behavior.

“I just drove an hour getting here. I’m not going to turn right back around and go back home. Forget it. Why are you being so rude? Is it just me in particular, or are you hiding here because you’ve lost all knowledge about how to act in a civilized manner?”

“You never did answer my question. How did you find this place?”

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On the 1st Day

Happy Holidays!!!
Today I would like to personally thank all of you for a wonderful 2013. Best wishes for a wonderful holiday and the happiest of New Years!

The daily winners were:

12th day – Jana (won a copy of Elemental Pleasure)

11th day – Rita Luken (won a copy of No Recourse)

10th day – Fedora (won a copy of Mad about Meg)

9th day – Sarah (won a copy of Mad about Meg…already owned the Compass Girls books!)

8th day – JoAnna B. (won copies of all three Scoundrels Short Stories)

7th day – Barbara (won a copy of Misplaced Lessons)

6th day – Bobbie B. (won a copy of Full Moon)

5th day – Janie Jones (won a copy of Status Update)

4th day – Tammy Kay

3rd day – Lisa G.

2nd day – Jessica Hale

The Rafflecopter contest runs through midnight tonight, so you still have time to hop in. I will announce the Grand Prize winner tomorrow.

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On the 2nd Day

The winner of yesterday’s drawing was Lisa G.

And now…how about another look inside a book that will be released in 2014?

This is from The Back-Up Plan, Second Chances, book 4.

Sneak Peek:

“What are you wearing?”

Kristen glanced up, her brow creased. He’d clearly interrupted her when she was deep in thought. She’d been working hard preparing for a medical malpractice suit. He almost felt guilty for distracting her. Almost.

“What?”

He crossed the room to her, walking around her desk. She pushed her chair back and swiveled to face him.

“What are you wearing?”

She looked down, perplexed. “A skirt?”

He rubbed his forehead as too many sleepless nights caught up with him all at once. She was driving him crazy these days. Wearing her hair down, smiling, singing, laughing at all his dirty jokes. Lately he’d gotten in the habit of calling her every night before he went to bed just because he wanted to hear her voice one more time before he closed his eyes.

Then sleep would elude him as he saw her face and heard her chastising him for drinking too much or not eating a healthy dinner or chasing the wrong kind of women. God. All she had to do was take that tone with him and his cock was rock hard for an hour afterwards. He’d jacked off so many times in the past few weeks he was getting callouses on his palm.

He gritted his teeth, then forced himself to say, “Under the skirt?”

She narrowed her eyes in her typical grow up way and his dick twitched. Shit. Here we go again.

“Seriously? You came in here to ask me that? Go home, J. Or better yet, call Monica. For some insane reason, she’s really into you. Maybe she can take your mind off this unhealthy obsession you have with my stockings.”

“So you are wearing stockings.”

“That’s all you heard me say, isn’t it?”

He shrugged, perfectly aware he was standing over her, looking and acting like king of the Neanderthals. He didn’t care. She was poking the bear. Every freaking day.

Then he caught a whiff of flowers. “When did you start wearing perfume?”

She shook her head, apparently unbothered by his odd change of subject. “When I was fifteen. Are you feeling okay? You’ve been walking around here for weeks like a tiger with a thorn in his paw. What’s going on?”

He wished to God he knew. Because maybe if he did, he wouldn’t do what he was about to do next. Unfortunately, intelligent Jason had abandoned ship when Kristen walked into work this morning in her short skirt and stockings. The only person still in residence was the idiot.

He bent down, caging Kristen in her chair, and kissed her. Put his lips against hers and pressed close.

She struggled for only a minute. He barely registered her hands on his shoulders, shoving against him. Then her fingers stopped pushing and started gripping.

Jason released his white-knuckle clench on the arms of her chair once he realized she was kissing him back. Their lips parted at the same time, their tongues meeting halfway as he grasped her face in his palms, stroking her soft skin.

She made a quiet whimper when he knelt between her legs, but she didn’t hesitate to part her thighs, to make room for him between. Neither of them came up for air, as if breaking the union of their lips would somehow crush the magic. Instead, they dove headfirst into the kiss, allowing it to go on and on.

Kristen’s hands loosened from his shirt, moving along his shoulders, then back to his tie. She released the knot and tugged the silk from the collar. When she started to tackle the buttons of his shirt, Jason gave up whatever semblance of control had remained.

He lowered his hands to her legs, caressing her thighs before gathering enough courage to dive beneath her skirt. His fingers had only traveled a few inches before he found the clasps of her garter.

Kristen gasped, a strong burst of air that almost pushed their lips apart. They recovered quickly, however, and resumed kissing, tasting. Jason relished every soft cry, every delicate sound of pure bliss she made.

He’d kissed hundreds of women in his life, but none of them compared to this. They didn’t even come close.

Jason deepened the kiss when his fingers found the bare skin above her stockings. Kristen spread her legs wider and he moved closer, but her tugging his shirt open distracted him. When had she unfastened the buttons? She stroked his chest, toyed with the light smattering of hair there, pressed her thumbs against his small brown nipples. There wasn’t an ounce of shyness in her exploration. Nothing, but sure, assertive hands. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Kristen was a powerhouse in the courtroom, confident, strong. It was apparent those attributes carried over to the physical realm as well.

His erection thickened even more, causing an almost lightheaded effect. The edges of his vision went fuzzy. What the hell was he doing? This was Kris.

His Kris.

The Back-Up Plan is available for preorder at Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Samhain.

You have only two more days to enter the Grand prize drawing! 

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On the 3rd Day

Yesterday’s winner is Tammy Kay. Don’t forget to comment today for your chance to win!

I thought it might be fun to spend the next couple of days looking ahead to what’s coming in 2014. Summer Fling, the third book in the Compass Girls series, releases February 18.

How about a sneak peek?

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve been feeling edgy lately. Restless. I mean, look around, Liam. Is this all there is to life? Every single day is déjà vu and not in a good way. It’s like I’m trapped in the horror movie that is my life, forced to endure the same stupid things over and over and over again.”

Liam frowned. “So what are you saying? You want to leave Compton Pass?”

“No.” Jade closed her eyes wearily. “This is my home. I don’t want to leave. My whole family is here and with Vivi’s memory getting worse…” Her words fell away as her shoulders slumped. She was in a funk. Usually life didn’t get her down, but for the past few months, she’d struggled to shirk off her constant state of unhappiness. The worst part was she didn’t really know what was bothering her. She was suffering from what Vivi called a case of the blues. And she had it bad.

Liam reached out to touch her arm. “Maybe you’re just bothered about your grandmother’s illness. Alzheimer’s can take its toll and you’ve been watching Vicky’s decline for a couple of years now.”

She shrugged. “I am worried about Vivi, but I don’t think that’s what’s wrong with me. Not really.”

“Then what?”

“I’m stuck in a rut. I work at the ranch. I tend bar here. I hang out with my cousins and you. I eat the same breakfast every day. The same damn lunch. I break up the same ridiculous redneck fights week after week. I’m coming out of my skin. It makes me want to do something crazy, wild, impulsive.”

“What else is new?”

She shot him a dirty look that he ignored.

“Fine, kiddo. Be impulsive.”

She released a quick snort. “Easier said than done. I’m Jade Compton, the sheriff’s daughter, one of the Compass Girls. Sometimes it feels like I have a thousand eyes on me—all watching out, ready to protect me the second I step one tiny toe over the line into anything that could be potentially dangerous. I’m living my life swaddled in freaking Bubble Wrap.”

Liam laughed. “I don’t know about that. It seems to me you’ve managed to do some damage. Weren’t you the girl who got pulled over by her father for going a hundred and twenty on her motorcycle?”

“Yes. And I caught holy hell for it too. Uncle Silas is still reading me the riot act for that, and it happened nearly six months ago.”

Liam leaned against Bruce’s car. Her boss always parked in the alley. “I bet he is. That is one man I’d never wanna piss off.”

Jade blew out a long breath and tugged at her T-shirt. “It doesn’t help that it’s a gazillion degrees this summer. I’m tired of being hot. It’s like I’m living in a pool of my own sweat with my clothes sticking to my skin every time I step outside.”

“Attractive image. Thanks for sharing.”

She grinned. Liam always knew how to talk her out of her anger. No matter how mad or annoyed she might be, Liam managed to calm her down. “Okay. You win. I’m finished bitching.”

“So what’s your plan for getting out of your depression?”

She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll just have to come up with something spontaneous and reckless. Maybe I’ll jump my motorcycle over Beyer’s Creek. I can sell tickets and put on a flashy pantsuit. I can even come up with a cool stunt-girl name like Jumpin’ Jade.”

“Selling tickets hardly makes it an impulsive act.”

She could tell he wasn’t taking her seriously and her pride kicked in, his whateverattitude rubbing her the wrong way. “Then maybe I should do something even more stupid.”

“And what would that be?” His casual tone tweaked her temper and made her long to wipe the smug smile off his face. As always, she acted without thinking.

“This.” She gripped his shirt in her hands and tugged him close, kissing him roughly. She felt him stiffen with surprise, the response appeasing her enough that she released him with a superior laugh. Served him right for dragging her out of the bar and then not believing her when she threatened to do something insane. He was her friend. The least he could do was play along when she was in a mood.

His eyes narrowed, pleasing her even more. Liam was a hard person to shock, so it felt good to shake the cocky man up.

“Oh my God, you should see your face right now, Liam.”

Her laughter died when Liam grasped her cheeks in his large palms and pulled her forward.

“Apparently you need a lesson in recklessness, Jade.”

“Wha—” She didn’t have a chance to ask what the hell he was doing before Liam placed his lips on hers and kissed her. Shock held her still for a full minute as Liam took charge of her mouth. His grip was firm, directing her face this way and that as he pressed her lips apart and started exploring her mouth with his tongue.

Part of her was compelled to shove him away. She’d only meant the kiss as a joke. This was Liam, for God’s sake. For eight years, he’d been her best friend. They didn’t kiss.

But damn if he didn’t know his way around a mouth. Jade lifted her hands to his shoulders. Her initial intention had been to push back, but once her fingers found the firm muscles on his upper arms, she decided to indulge in a little exploration of her own.

Liam twisted them until she was pressed against Bruce’s car, his body leaning into hers. One of his hands left her face, caressing its way along her neck, briefly touching her breast before latching on to her waist. He used his grip to tug her lower body even closer to his.

She didn’t turn him on. Did she?

Available for preorder from Amazon, Samhain and Barnes and Noble.

As I look ahead to the type of stories I’ll write next year, I thought I’d use today’s question to help me determine genres. SO…what are the romantic elements you like to read most (for example–BDSM, menage, younger heroines, older heroines, etc.). One commenter will receive winner’s choice of any ebook in the Compass series (Brothers or Girls).

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On the 4th Day

Yesterday’s winner is Janie Jones. Don’t forget to comment today for your chance to win!

At the end of the summer, I was invited to participate in an exciting anthology with some pretty incredible authors. The end result was Midnight Ink and it released in November. Together, eight erotic romance writers created original novellas involving a tattoo shop in New Orleans. Participating authors included Eden Bradley, RG Alexander, Carrie Ann Ryan, Sidney Bristol, Robin Rotham, Jayne Rylon, PG Forte and myself. I’m not going to lie–for two months my inbox EXPLODED with emails as we plotted, planned and shared pieces of what we were writing. This is one funny group. I’ve never laughed so much while writing a book and it was a fantastic experience! I was so honored that they’d included me!

Today, I thought I’d share a snippet from my story, Blank Canvas. It’s book one in the Big Easy series I’ve started writing. I’m currently working my way through the second book now. The series revolves around a rather unusual family from New Orleans, the Lewis clan. My plan is to release book two in February.

Excerpt:

Today’s question is a fun one. The Midnight Ink stories revolve around a tattoo shop. If you wanted to get a tattoo, what would you get and where would you put it? The winner will win a copy of my story, Blank Canvas.

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On the 5th Day

Yesterday’s winner is Bobbie B. Don’t forget to comment today for your chance to win!

In Oct. the third book in the Second Chances series, Status Update, released. As I’ve mentioned, these stories stem from my attempt to write happy endings for all of my real life friends. It seems like the past few years several of them have found themselves at crossroads in their lives. I’m telling their stories (and the endings I wish for them) through these books.

How about a peek at Status Update?

Excerpt:

The ride back to her townhouse was made in silence as Laura filled every second with one panic attack after another. She hadn’t anticipated the evening going this way. Sure, Bryan had told her he wanted to fuck the hell out of her, but she’d dismissed those words, decided they were said in the heat of the moment.

Bryan had a wicked sense of humor. Laura had thought perhaps they were just indulging in some innocent flirting and dirty sexual innuendos.

Yeah, right. Had she honestly thought they’d have a nice dinner, talk, maybe go dancing, and then she’d offer him a bit more of that red-hot kissing he’d introduced her to without sex entering the equation?

Regardless of their unquestionable, off-the-charts attraction, things were moving too fast. She couldn’t quite wrap her head around what was about to happen.

Bryan pulled into the parking lot adjacent to her building and turned off the car. “Laura—” he started. His tone said it all.

She’d given away her nervousness. He was going to back out and let her off the hook.

Was that what she wanted?

She looked at Bryan’s handsome, concerned face.

Fuck that.

She was sick of the wise, old, never-take-a-chance woman she’d become.

New year. New Laura.

She reached across the console, leaning forward, while reaching for his shirt. She grabbed a handful of the cotton and used it to pull him toward her. Bryan met her halfway, their lips connecting in a kiss that triggered an arousal she hadn’t experienced in years. There was something so completely magical about Bryan’s kisses. Over the years, Laura had forgotten the intensity, the excitement that could be wrapped up in that initial touch of lips.

Bryan cupped her face, holding her as if she were not only the most precious woman on earth, but the hottest one as well. His fingers drifted along her cheek before he ran them through her hair. His grip tightened as if he were afraid she would change her mind and escape.

She wasn’t going anywhere without him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against her lips.

Her hands rested on his shoulders, but she wanted more. Wanted to feel him—skin to skin. She ran her fingers over his jaw, loving the roughness that betrayed he hadn’t shaved since this morning.

Though it was winter outside, the temperature in the car had to be pushing a thousand degrees.

They remained there, locked together, neither willing to be the first to break the connection.

Finally, Laura pulled away, resting her forehead against his. “I haven’t had sex in a really long time,” she admitted.

“Neither have I.”

“I’m counting in years, Bryan.”

He grinned. “Oh. Then I revise my previous statement. I haven’t had sex in a while.”

She laughed, then decided she didn’t want to start something that she potentially couldn’t finish. “Should we also revisit that comment you made in the restaurant?”

He tilted his head, confused. “Care to narrow it down for me?”

“The control thing.”

Bryan leaned closer and placed a quick, hard kiss on her lips. “That’s not going to be a problem for us.”

She studied his face, trying to decide if his answer was enough. Hell, she didn’t have a clue what he meant.

Bryan didn’t give her a chance to ask for clarification. “Trust me, Laura.”

Trust was a leap of faith, but it didn’t matter. Laura was one of those people who saw the best in someone until they proved her wrong. Bryan had done nothing to betray her trust, so…he had it.

“You wanna come in?”

“For coffee?” he asked.

She leaned back and slapped him on the upper arm. “No, not for coffee. What the hell have we just been talking about?”

Bryan laughed. “I was kidding, Laura. I’d love to come in.”

“Good.”

They walked to her townhouse, bundled together against the brisk, winter wind. After spending nearly thirty minutes in the sauna-like conditions in his car, the cold air went through her like a knife. She struggled to put her key in the door, her hands suddenly shaking.

She wanted to blame the frosty air, but she feared reality was setting in with a vengeance. She had invited a man into her apartment with the intention of sleeping with him. What the hell was she thinking? Dressed Laura looked a hell of a lot better than naked Laura.

Bryan placed his hand on hers, helping her guide the key into the slot. “Slow and easy, hotshot.”

The nickname gave her a much-needed boost of confidence. She was forty-three years old. If she wanted to fuck a man on the first date, it was her call to make.

They walked inside together. Bryan closed the door, then looked at her.

She pointed to the deadbolt. “Lock it.”

For today’s question, I thought we’d look back and talk a little about regrets. What’s one thing you wish you’d done when you were younger? Or if you had it to do all over again, what would you do? One commenter will win a copy of Status Update. And don’t forget to enter for the grand prize drawing–there’s still time!

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