Mari Carr's Blog, page 94

Eppies Finalist!

I learned a couple weeks ago that my Carina story, Do Over, is a finalist in the Eppies! It is a finalist in the novella category. Winners will be announced at EPICon March 8-12. By the way, I want to go to this conference! It's on a cruise ship departing from Florida and sailing to the Bahamas! Really? Um…yes please. This sounds so amazing. Wish I didn't have a damn day job.

If you're wondering what Do Over is all about, I thought I'd post the blurb and an excerpt.

Sometimes once is not enough…

After twenty-five years of marriage, Faith Wainwright wonders what she'll do next. Her kids have moved out and sometimes she feels so distant from her husband, Troy.

Right before their anniversary, Troy gives Faith an unexpected gift: a journey through their hometown to reenact all their "firsts". Their first date. Their first kiss. And especially the first time they made love—only better.

Each stop on their tour becomes an opportunity for Faith and Troy to rediscover how explosive their passion could be. Now Faith knows exactly what she's going to do—Troy, over and over again….

Excerpt:

When the parking lot was almost completely clear, he turned to her. "Happy anniversary, Faith."

Her brows lowered. "Our wedding anniversary isn't until next Tuesday."

He shrugged. "It's close enough. I wanted to celebrate it with you here."

"At the high school?"

He chuckled. "No, here. In Carlylse. Home."

She smiled at his words. "This place hasn't been home in nearly thirteen years."

"It'll always be home. Too much of our lives happened here for it to be anything else."

She nodded, knowing he was right. Then, he picked up the present and she blushed. "I feel terrible. I didn't get you anything yet."

Truth be told, she hadn't planned on buying him much more than a card. After twenty-five years of marriage, a simple card exchange and dinner out had sort of become their standard routine. There wasn't too much that either of them really wanted and with two kids in college, spending money on anything frivolous seemed like too much of a waste.

"You give me plenty, Faith," he said, tapping her nose playfully, and she had to take a quick breath to fight back the tears at his unexpected, sweet comment. She loved her husband and she knew for a fact that he loved her, but neither of them spoke in flowery phrases. Every night of their lives together, they'd kissed good-night and said the words, "love you," but after awhile, the meaning behind the words was lost in the rote pattern.

Looking down, she carefully opened the beautifully wrapped package. Pulling off the lid and digging into the tissue paper, she was surprised to find a photo album. She started to open the cover, but Troy's hand covered hers.

"You can only look at the first page," he said.

She looked up, the question in her eyes, but he didn't give her time to voice it.

"This is only the first stop in our celebration. One page for each place. I'll tell you when you can turn the page."

She looked at him for several moments, trying to assimilate this man and this incredibly romantic gesture with the easygoing guy who'd been leaving wet towels on her bathroom floor year after year.

Opening the photo album to the first page, she saw a picture of her and Troy the night of their senior prom. They hadn't come to the dance together, but they'd certainly left the gym hand in hand. His original date had come down with the flu, canceling the morning of. She'd come with Travis Scottsdale, her first semi-serious boyfriend and asshole of the century. Ten minutes after arriving at the dance, he told her he wanted to break up with her, leaving her sitting alone while he proceeded to make out in the corner with Amber Cooper.

"Oh my gosh. Look at us. We're so young."

"And sweaty," Troy joked. "We danced our asses off that night."

"It didn't help that the AC in the gym didn't work." Faith grinned at the memory.

"Must've been at least a hundred degrees in there."

Faith looked back at the photograph. "Where did you get this picture? I've never seen it."

"It was in the pocket of that letter jacket. I can't remember exactly where I got it. I think Judy Hayes gave it to me a couple weeks after the dance. I'm pretty sure I was supposed to pass it along to you."

"And obviously you forgot." Forgetting little things was a special talent of Troy's. She always had to remind him it was garbage day or to stop on the way home from work to pick up the dry cleaning.

Troy shrugged. "I was a teenage boy falling in love for the first time. Believe me, I was not about to give up that picture. I looked at it all the time."

This time, she couldn't hold back the tears his kind words provoked.

"Troy," she whispered.

He bent forward. "Kiss me," he murmured. Their lips touched. They'd kissed a million and twelve times in their lives, but this kiss, gentle and sweet and innocent, reminded her of their first. It was in this parking lot after the dance and she could still remember the excitement she felt when Troy Wainwright offered her a ride home. They'd gotten into his car and before he started the engine, he'd turned to her and said the exact same words.

Kiss me.

The request and the action had taken her breath away that night and she was feeling the same lightheadedness now as she had then. As soon as the memory entered her mind, she pulled away with a gasp and looked around. If she wasn't mistaken, this was very nearly the same parking spot.

"Our first kiss."

He grinned, pleased she'd remembered. "Yep. Right here. In front of the school." He turned on the radio and slid in a CD. Pushing Play, he pointed back down to the photo album as the sounds of Fleetwood Mac drifted through the speakers.

For the first time, her gaze traveled from the picture on the left page to a letter protected under the plastic film on the right page. It was written to her in Troy's handwriting.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Read it."

Faith,

You and I have known each other nearly our entire lives, traveling the same path through elementary, middle and high school. While we were acquaintances through those early years, I feel like I never really knew you, never saw you until the night of our senior prom.

            Betsy Jordan coming down with the flu was probably the best thing that ever happened to me, even though I didn't realize it at the time. I remember how pissed off I was after her mother called and said she couldn't go to the dance with me. I almost stayed home that night, but my mom insisted I put the rented tux to use. You know my mom— waste not, want not.

            I came late and by the time I got there, that dickhead, Travis had left you sitting all alone. I knew you all had been dating, so I was surprised when I saw him with Amber. I can still remember the look on your face as you watched him dancing with that other girl. You were so pale and yet, so strong. I could see how hard you were fighting not to cry, to hold on to your dignity. It was like a light went on inside me. I'd passed you in the hallways for years and never really looked at you, but that night, you were the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen and I wondered why in the hell I'd never noticed it before.

            I was nervous as shit when I walked over to you and asked to sit down. You smiled at me and I felt like somebody had punched me in the gut. Talk about an instant attraction. We talked and laughed and after awhile, we started dancing. The last song of the night was "Landslide" and I took you in my arms and we slow danced while Stevie Nicks sang. After the dance, you said I could drive you home and we had our first kiss in the parking lot. I fell in love with you that night even though I was too stupid at the time to know it. When I dropped you off at your house, I asked if I could call you again and you said yes. I smiled the whole way home, thinking about you.

            Even after all this time, I only have to think about you and I smile.

Love, Troy

  Do Over is available at Carina, Amazon, Sony, Barnes and Noble, and All Romance Ebooks.

Quote of the Day

And the line from Steel Magnolias that starts the waterworks EVERY time I watch that movie.

"I find it amusing. Men are supposed to be made out of steel or something. I just sat there. I just held Shelby's hand. There was no noise, no tremble, just peace. Oh, God. I realize as a woman how lucky I am. I was there when that wonderful creature drifted into my life and I was there when she drifted out. It was the most precious moment of my life." – M'Lynn

Six Sentence Sunday

My good friend, Jambrea Jo Jones, introduced me to this nifty thing called Six Sentence Sunday. Typically my Saturday Snippets include excerpts from already published stories. I thought it might be fun to start playing along on the Six Sentence Sundays, but instead of pubbed work, I'm going to share bits from my works in progress.

This weekend, I've been working on Wild Irish Christmas…so…I give you my six sentences.

"Holy mother of sweet divine Jerusalem," Patrick Collins exclaimed.

Riley laughed at him. "Oh come on, Pop, it'll be fun. Where's your Christmas spirit?"

Patrick shook his head. "Riley Collins Young, I cannot imagine what possessed you to come up with this harebrained scheme, but I'm fairly certain the spirit of the holidays had nothing to do with it."

Want more Six Sentence Sunday? Click here!

Saturday Snippet

This week's theme is "gift." I thought I'd share a wee snippet from my latest release, Slam Dunk.

Snippet

"Here," he said, grabbing a brightly wrapped box from beneath the tree and handing it to her.

"You really shouldn't have done this," she repeated, feeling guilty about not having anything to offer him in return.

"Hush. It's nothing. Open it."

She untied the ribbon, then ripped into the wrapping paper. She took the lid off the box and pulled back the tissue paper. Inside were two framed pictures. One was of her and Trey on the sidelines, surrounded by the team during a time-out. She glanced at Trey, wondering where he'd gotten it.

He responded to her unasked question. "I asked Jamie to snap a couple shots during that game. He took it from the stands. I thought it was a good picture of you."

She smiled, tears springing to her eyes. The photograph reflected the joy in her face as she was in the midst of doing something she loved with Trey by her side. "It's perfect."

Looking back into the box, she uncovered the other picture and laughed. It was a shot of the Cougar Club at happy hour. She recalled Grace asking the waitress to snap the shot a week ago when they'd all gone out to celebrate the basketball team's big win against Harper's Ridge. She and Trey stood in the middle, with their arms around each other's shoulders. They were flanked by Cheryl, Lucas, Grace, and Jamie—all six of them grinning widely. It had been a great night.

She looked at the gift, knowing it was one of the nicest she'd ever received. "I love them."

Trey shrugged, obviously pleased by how much she liked his present. "I thought you might like some pictures for your house. Start your collection over since you lost your childhood photos in that fire."

She struggled to swallow over the lump in her throat. He was helping her create new memories to replace the ones she'd lost. It was a beautiful gesture. "Thank you," she whispered.

Slam Dunk is available at Samhain, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Sony, Kobo and All Romance Ebooks.

And now…these fabulous authors will be "gifting" you with more snippets.

Anne Rainey

McKenna Jeffries

Myla Jackson

Taige Crenshaw

Selena Blake

Vivian Arend

Alison Kent

HelenKay Dimon

Lauren Dane

Lacey Savage

Shiloh Walker

All of You

Wow–this is a late one and I owe my critique partner, Rhian Cahill, a bit apology. I love to pimp her books because I LOVE her writing. Unfortunately, this release hit in the midst of my crazy crunch time as I tried to promote the release of two books, hit the deadline on Western Ties, and pack for Romanticon. How's that for a bunch of bad excuses? Fact remains Rhian had a release and I missed it!!!

All of You is available now at Noble Publishing and like all of Rhian's books, this is one you DO NOT want to miss. If you don't believe me…just check out who is #1 on that bestseller list.

Claire Jones never dreamed the fantasies she'd been having about the young guy next door would ever become reality, but after a push from her best friend and one encounter involving dirty laundry, she's getting more reality than one woman should be allowed. But with reality comes emotion, and Claire finds herself falling deeper and deeper under Ryan's spell.

Ryan Doherty wants in Claire's pants, but he soon discovers hot sex isn't all he's after. She makes him happy in a way nothing and no one else ever has, and if he has to use their amazing chemistry to stay in her life, he will. Because having more of Claire isn't an option. It's the only choice.

Can Ryan and Claire bridge the age gap to find the love of a lifetime, or will what others think destroy the best thing either of them has ever found?

Excerpt:

 Chapter One

Claire Jones stared at her best friend of almost forty years and wondered when Jane had lost her mind. Then again maybe it was Claire who'd lost hers. Either that or her hearing had gone in the last two minutes. Surely she wasn't that old. She'd be forty-two next birthday. At what age does the body start to break down?

Her fork hovered between mouth and plate, the bite of lobster forgotten. Jane had not said what Claire's mind tried to convince her she'd heard. No, it had to be whatever had possessed Claire of late—the thing that had her fantasizing about her very sexy, very young, next-door neighbor.

Claire smiled. "For a second there, Jane, I thought you said I should fuck Ryan." She popped the fork into her mouth and savored the delicate flavor combination of lobster, butter, and garlic as it exploded across her tongue.

Jane chewed the piece of steak she'd just put in her mouth and reached for her glass of wine. She swallowed and took a sip of the deep red liquid. Her wine coated tongue slid out to wet her lips before she spoke. "I did."

The lobster caught in the back of Claire's throat, choking her briefly. Her fork clattered to the plate, and she reached for her water in the hope it would ease the food down. She coughed and spluttered before the cool liquid moved the lump blocking her airway and brought soothing relief.

"What?" she croaked.

"You should fuck him." Jane's gaze was steady. "I've seen the way he eats you up with his eyes. He's hot for you, and before you deny it, I know you've been having all sorts of interesting fantasies about him. You told me so yourself."

The smug look on Jane's face made Claire want to take back every word of that old conversation. She'd confided more than one of the steamy daydreams she'd been having in which Ryan played a starring role. Luckily, she hadn't divulged the incredibly hot wet dreams she'd woken with every night for the last month. Her fantasizing had definitely become more frequent—more intense—in recent weeks.

"Jesus, Jane. What the hell are you thinking? I'm old enough to be his mother." Claire tried to keep her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze darting across to the nearest table. The thought of anyone overhearing the conversation terrified her.

"Only if you'd had him really young."

"It doesn't change the fact I'm old enough to be his mother."

"But you're not."

"Christ. There's at least fifteen years between us. I even look old enough to be his mother," Claire protested.

"No you don't," Jane's words were taking on the tone she got whenever someone was pissing her off.

"But I could be!" Claire's voice came out a high-pitched squeak. She quickly glanced at the nearby tables. The whole discussion was wrong. Jane should have been able to see that. How cruel was it to dangle something in front of her that was so out of her reach?

"Again, you're not. And I think you're protesting too much." Jane's hand slid across the table and landed on Claire's. "You don't look a day over thirty, and one of the hottest guys I've ever seen outside of a magazine drools all over you whenever you're close. I'm not telling you to marry him. I'm telling you to take what both of you clearly want. Fuck each other into oblivion for the sheer pleasure of it."

Jane pulled her hand back and picked up her wine. Claire waited for her to say something else. Tried to think of another reason why it was a bad idea to think about fucking Ryan, never mind actually doing it. But her mind was going the way her body had the minute she'd met Ryan Doherty—straight to the hell of lusting after a man she could never have.

"Are the proofs in for tomorrow's meeting?" Jane asked.

The change of topic had Claire stumbling. "Um . . . yes. I got them first thing this morning."

"Did they turn out as well as we thought they would?"

"Better. Branded may be expensive, but they're worth every penny we pay them for our advertising."

"Good. I'm not in the mood to fight with Mr. Nichols about it again."

Claire laughed. "Yeah, it took us long enough to convince him to try our idea for the winter range."

Jane shuddered. "You weren't the one that offered to get down on your knees and beg!"

Laughing harder, Claire tried to speak but gave up when she couldn't get rid of the image of her best friend on her knees in front of stodgy old Nichols.

Jane grinned. "Yeah, not someone I wanna get on my knees for."

Claire relaxed as they ate the rest of their lunch—the subject of fucking Ryan was dropped. But after they left the restaurant for the office restlessness began to plague Claire, hanging on all afternoon and making time drag.

Her mind kept going back to what Jane had suggested, ". . . take what both of you clearly want. Fuck each other into oblivion . . ."

By the time five o'clock rolled around, Claire was more than ready to escape and head home to the peace and quiet her townhouse offered. She longed for a hot bath, a glass of wine, and good book. Preferably all at the same time.

Traffic was a bitch. A sixty-minute drive quickly turned into ninety minutes in hell. Claire cursed and muttered under her breath the whole way. Even lowered the window and swore at the driver of a truck after he almost became her new hood ornament.

Frazzled, hot, and sticky she was ready for a whole bottle of wine when she finally approached her drive at little less than top speed. Too distracted by her own annoyance, Claire didn't notice the man standing in the parking lot until she nearly ran him over. Cursing a blue streak any sailor worth his salt would envy, she slammed on the brakes, threw the car into park, and flung her door open.

"Are you fucking crazy!" she screamed as she launched from the vehicle. "I could have run you dow—"

The air left her lungs and her words caught in her throat. The glistening flesh of a god-like, bare male chest numbed her mind and turned her body into a quivering vessel of need.

Ryan.



God the man is to die for. Claire would have had to be dead not to notice. Even dead I'd notice him. She tried to swallow over the lump of harsh words in her throat.

"Evening, Claire, bad day at the office?"

Ryan's smirk should have been irritating. Instead, it did funny things to her belly, stirred and warmed it like soup in a saucepan. She licked her lips, swallowed again, and finally dragged a few words from the depths of lust-induced stupidity. "Drive home."

Jeez, could I be anymore lame? The man probably thought she was an idiot. Hell, she acted like a dumb schoolgirl every time he was around, so who could blame him if he did?

"Ah, yes. I heard there was a bad accident on the highway earlier. They said traffic would be screwed for hours."

His gaze dropped to where her blouse sat snug across her breasts, the material raising and lowering with every labored breath. Her nipples strained beneath her bra. The look in his eyes one of hunger—desire. Could Jane be right about him? The thought sent shockwaves of heat bursting out from the breasts he hadn't stopped staring at. Her pulse quickened, her breath turned short—choppy. Her clit ached, and Claire squeezed her thighs together to ease the throb.

Ryan's nostrils flared, and his gaze came back to meet hers. The heat and lust swirling in the green orbs delivered another burst of heat to her body. Claire shivered. Goose bumps sprang up all over her skin and moisture filled her panties. God, if he could do that with a look what could he do with a touch? Sparks of gold ignited in his eyes, and Claire wondered why she'd never noticed those flecks of light before. Had she ever allowed herself to look that close?

No. She'd kept contact with Ryan to a minimum. Usually because she found it hard to string a sentence together with the way he had her body exploding to life whenever he got close. Oh, who was she kidding? Just thinking about him sent her nerve endings into a frenzied bunch of sex-craving knots. Claire closed her eyes and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. Big mistake.

The scent of hot, sweaty male filled her nose and lungs. Her body went from mild arousal to fever pitch in a nanosecond. The smell of a hardworking man had always turned Claire on, but coming from Ryan it tweaked her senses on a whole new level. Her pussy throbbed and turned slick, her breasts swelled and grew heavy, her nipples rasped against the cotton bra she wore. Her eyes popped open wide, and without permission her torso leaned closer to what tantalized her.

A cool breeze ruffled the hems of her skirt and blouse, drifting beneath the material to flow over heated skin. Her clit burned with want, and Claire knew she could climax with minimal effort. Hell, she was so close it would take no more than a brush of his hand or lips to set her off.

Shit. She had to get away.

Without a word she spun on her heels and dove back into her car. Slamming the door, she put the car in gear and shot into her parking spot. In one move she switched the engine off and grabbed her handbag. After jumping from her seat, she shut the door with her hip and strode across the asphalt. Aiming her keys over her shoulder, she activated the door locks and alarm.

"Gotta go. Can't stop," she called out as she made a dash for the front of her townhouse . . . safety.

It took longer than she liked to fumble her way inside and close the door behind her. Slumping against the cool timber, Claire let her head fall back with a thunk and stared at the ceiling in her foyer. She shuddered. She'd just made a complete fool of herself, and even if she'd been remotely contemplating doing as Jane had suggested and what her body screamed for, she'd probably just managed to ruin any hope she may have had at succeeding.

* * * * *

Ryan reached down and adjusted his cock. The second Claire had bounded out of her car all flushed with anger and the stress of sitting in traffic too long, he'd had a hard-on and nowhere for it to go. The damn thing hurt from being bent in half, but Ryan refused to move it like some randy little schoolboy in front of Claire. It didn't matter that she made him feel like one, he flat-out would not stoop to behaving like one.

It didn't help to see her looking like she'd just rolled out of bed. Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink. Strands of silky brown hair flying every which way, like someone had run their fingers through it. Ryan could picture his hands wrapped around her head, imagine his fingers tangled in those soft tresses. He'd hold her still while he took his time devouring her mouth with his. Their tongues would clash, each seeking the dark recesses and hidden warmth to be found in the mating of their mouths . . . He adjusted himself again.

The woman had him tied in knots. She hardly gave him the time of day, but all she had to do was breathe in his direction and his dick was raring to go, his body pounding with a need that consumed his every thought. It had taken weeks for him to build up the nerve to say hello to her. But after he'd spoken those first words, Ryan started to go out of his way to run into her. He'd even hung around near his front door with keys in hand so he could pretend to be going out as she came in from work.

Damn.

He was acting like a randy schoolboy.

It had to stop. His body couldn't take much more torture. Today was the first time in ages that she'd actually looked at him. Normally she ducked her head and made a hasty retreat whenever she saw him coming. The only time he managed more than a two-word conversation was when her friend Jane was with her. Ryan had taken advantage of those times, using Jane's presence to gain some insight into Claire. Not that any of those brief conversations had revealed much. And still he found himself enthralled by her. The simplest things set him on fire—the curve of her chin, the subtle sway of her hips, the fan of dark eyelashes over hazels eyes—everything about Claire enticed him.

He'd never had such an instant reaction to a woman—a pounding, driving need to shove her against the nearest flat surface and fuck her senseless. Shit, he didn't even need a surface—he'd take her standing up. He'd touch and taste, lick and nibble, devour every inch of her before starting all over again. It would take him forever to get his fill of her. The first time would be fast and furious, but once the raw edge of desire was sated Ryan would slow things down, savor her lush body.

His cock throbbed, grew harder and he widened his stance to ease the ache. The running shorts he wore gave him little room to expand . . . and they also gave anyone walking by a clear view of what was going on in his mind. Shit. He was standing in the parking lot with a hard-on, staring after a woman who'd clearly slammed the door on him. Was it any wonder she wouldn't give him the time of day?

Ryan shook his head to pull himself together. In a few strides he made it across the parking lot to his door. The one right next to Claire's. He ignored the pain that lanced through his cock when he bent down to retrieve his key from the special pocket in his running shoe. Straightening, he breathed deeply and caught a lung full of her alluring scent. It hovered in the air like a vapor trail, made him want to follow, though he wouldn't.

Not yet.

Soon he'd make his move. He just had to get himself together and make a plan. There was no way in hell he was letting her get away. The chemistry couldn't be one-sided, and after the way she'd eyed his chest when her tirade had stuttered to a halt, Ryan was convinced it wasn't. It just required the right moment, the right place, and the right actions, and he'd bet his big screen TV on their attraction turning explosive.

First, he needed a shower, and maybe he could give himself a little relief before he ventured over to Claire's with some excuse to spend time with her. Ryan shouldered the front door open and stepped inside. He took in the mess he'd left behind when he'd come in from work. His mud-caked boots sat by the door, a flannel shirt splattered in the same mud hung over the railing for the stairs, and a pile of jeans, socks, and T-shirt lay in a dirty heap at the bottom of the first step.

Sighing, Ryan reached down and scooped up his work gear, snagging the shirt as he passed on his way to the laundry. He only hoped the damn washer worked. The last load he'd done had come out as dirty as it had gone in, and he'd ended up taking it to his brother's and running the clothes through Brett's machine. If his washer was on the fritz, he could make it through the rest of the week, but come the weekend he'd need to do something about it.

Then again, I might have just found the perfect excuse to head next door and see Claire.



Ryan turned around and walked back to where he started, dumping the pile by the door. Oh yeah, a shower, a little light relief from the arousal gnawing on his insides, a change of clothes, and he'd head next door to get some washing done. He grinned, toed off his running shoes, and took the stairs two at a time on his way to the bathroom. He stripped out of his shorts and tossed them over the railing to the foyer below before entering the bathroom.

Soft music echoed off the tile surface, and Ryan spun around looking for the source. It took him a minute, but the second Ryan worked out where the music was coming from he groaned. Claire. Jesus. She was in her bathroom. He knew what that meant. Torture. Absolute complete torture.

The faint sounds of splashing water could be heard through the thin common wall that separated their homes, it mixed with whatever music she'd put on. Some sort of classical crap that he wasn't into but Claire seemed to love playing whenever she took a bath. And he should know—she took a lot of them.

He imagined her lying back in the porcelain tub, stretched out with scented water and frothy bubbles swirling around her lush curves. Her breasts would play peek-a-boo, bobbing beneath the white foam before peeking out to tease him. She'd grab a sponge, lather it with soap, and glide the slick cloth over her shoulder, down her arm. In a slow, even stroke, she'd bring it back up her smooth skin and across her collarbone. Neck arched, she'd drag the sponge up her throat, leaving a trail of bubbles that would drip south, down into the line of foam hiding her generous breasts from view.

"Fuck!"

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut and tried the clamp down on the lust roaring through him. His cock lengthened, engorged with blood boiling with white-hot arousal. Giving in, he wrapped a hand around his shaft and stroked from root to tip in a punishing grip. Pre-come beaded in the slit on the bulbous head, and his balls pulled up tightly into his body. Fire burned in the pit of his stomach, urgent need raced up his spine, and his knees went weak when he thought he heard a moan from next door.

He leaned back against the cool tile wall and pumped his hand in fast, firm motions that had him on the brink of coming in seconds. Ryan imagined Claire's fingers were milking his flesh, bringing him pleasure and relief from the raging desire he'd lived with for months. Her creamy skin would contrast with his darker coloring, her feminine curves balancing his masculine angles, and her softness would cushion his hardness. With a groan, he worked his erection harder. Flesh slapped together, the sound echoed around the room and drove his arousal higher.

His sac drew up into his groin and his balls tingled as they prepared to blast a load of come through his dick. Ryan reached down with his other hand and squeezed the two ultrasensitive orbs tucked in close to his body. Fire burst free, licking along his cock and shooting up his spine. White arcs of liquid shot from him with what felt like the speed and force of a bullet. The wall at his back was the only thing stopping him from toppling over. His knees wobbled, and he lowered to the floor before he fell on his ass. Cold tile met hot skin and his testicles recoiled, pain darting up into his belly.

The sting of cold did more to diminish his hard-on than his orgasm had. He was still hard and in need of relief. Relief he wouldn't find alone in his bathroom wanking off to the mental image of the woman he wanted above all others. Ryan let his head drop back on the wall and closed his eyes. His breathing was still labored, and he was covered in sweat and come. The room smelled like a brothel late on a Friday night. Not that he'd know what one smelled like.

Okay, so there was one time way back when he was a randy schoolboy but he'd matured since then. Not that his body's behavior around Claire was any indication of that, but she was an anomaly. Ryan didn't understand his reactions to her, and he certainly couldn't explain them. He did, however, know exactly what to do with them. He'd grab that shower and some clean clothes, go next door holding his bundle of dirty laundry, and beg to use her washer.

If he combed his house from top to bottom he could probably come up with two loads of washing. That had to be good for a couple hours hanging out at her place. He could get to know Claire better. Spend some time talking, finding out what she liked and disliked. What her favorite food is, her favorite color, what type of movies she watched. He might even suggest they catch one together sometime.

With a plan in mind, Ryan pushed off the floor. His legs still felt like jelly, but he stayed upright long enough to get clean and head to his room for clothes. His cock still stood at attention, raring to go and eager to get there. Going commando as he usually did at home was out, or he'd be advertising his state of arousal, and she'd never let him in the door. Briefs, sweats, and a shirt that fell to below groin level hid his hard-on well enough to get him in her door.

Now he just had to collect two loads of washing and think of a good opening line. By the end of the night he'd know whether there was any hope of getting in Claire's pants. Grinning, he pulled the sheet from his bed to add to the wash. If his plan worked he might get a taste of her by the end of the week. If he was really lucky he might score an entrée this evening. Hell, he could get lucky enough to sample the full meal.

* * * * *

Claire pulled the sash on her robe tighter as she made her way downstairs to refill her wine glass. The long soak in a scented bubble bath and two glasses of wine had done wonders for her frazzled nerves. Her muscles were relaxed, and she was planning on a light dinner before crawling into bed to finish her book. There was ironing to do, but it could wait until tomorrow. Tonight was about pampering herself. Something she did very rarely these days.

Humming along to the Bond album still playing upstairs, Claire entered the kitchen and headed straight for the fridge and the open wine bottle. She didn't often drink, and certainly not on a weekday, but today had proven just a little too much. After months of lusting over the young hunk next door, she hadn't been prepared for her best friend to call her on it. And now that Jane had put the suggestion in her mind, Claire couldn't stop thinking about Ryan or the fantasies he provoked.

She unscrewed the bottle cap, thanking whomever it was that decided screw caps were better than corks. A whole bottle would be too much, and the cap meant she could indulge in a couple of glasses and save the rest for later. Not that there'd be much left at the rate she was drinking.

Until her friend suggested she fuck Ryan, Claire hadn't seriously thought about it. Sure she'd had some fantasies and wet dreams with him in the starring role, but she'd never contemplated going after him. Now it was as if her brain was on a continuous loop, replaying the same thoughts—her and Ryan in every way possible.' But she didn't have a clue where to start to make those fantasies a reality. The idea of touching him—being touched by him—sent a shiver down her spine as her mind began to weave possible scenarios for seduction.

The doorbell rang, interrupting her daydreams. She finished topping off her drink and recapped the bottle, placing it on the counter as she made her way out of the kitchen and down the hall to the front door. Leaning forward, she peeked through the peephole to see who had come calling. The last person she expected to see was Ryan, but there he stood with an armload of what looked like dirty clothes. What the hell was he doing on her doorstep with washing?

She slipped the safety chain free, turned the deadbolt, and opened the door. A cool summer breeze blew through the opening and under the light material of her robe, lifting it and giving Ryan a good view of naked thighs before she could push the silk back down again. Shit! She had forgotten she was naked underneath. His gaze dropped to where her hand groped with the edges of the fabric. The wind had separated the two sides, and she was struggling to cover herself with one hand.

There was no mistaking the look of desire in his eyes. Claire's body tightened in response. Arousal, already on a low burn, turned up a few degrees. Her flesh swelled and moistened, grew heavy with want. Damn. Her body's reactions to him had gone up ten-fold.

Straightening what little covering she had on, she ushered him inside before anyone walking past saw her state of undress. She waited for him to speak, but he just continued to stare at her with hungry eyes, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. It did nothing to help her control her wayward hormones.

Needing to break the silence, Claire licked her lips and tried to talk. The croak that came out was pitiful. She took a quick sip of wine and tried again.

"W-what can I do for you, Ryan?" Better, but not by much.

His gaze traveled up her body, a slow tour stopping at all the highlights along the way. Claire shivered as if he'd caressed her with his fingertips. The gold flecks in his eyes sparkled with desire, and she swallowed over the sudden lump in her throat.

"I, um . . . that is, my washer's broken, and I wondered if I could use yours." He shrugged his shoulders, raising the bundle in his arms as if it wasn't obvious what he held. With a sheepish look he said, "I brought my own detergent."

Claire couldn't help the giggle that slipped out of her mouth. She'd never pictured Ryan as anything but naked and sexy as hell. The very idea he did mundane things like laundry and was well versed in the chore enough to bring his own detergent struck her as funny.

"Sorry, didn't mean to laugh at you." She stepped around him. "No problem, it's back here."

Leading the way, Claire realized she probably could have sent him on his own. His townhouse was the reverse layout of hers, so he'd know where to find the laundry. She stopped in the kitchen and pulled out a stool at the breakfast bar.

"It's all yours. I'm not using it tonight." Perched on the seat, Claire watched his very fine ass walk past her and into the room off the kitchen.

"Thanks." Ryan looked over his shoulder and caught her perving on him.

In that moment, Claire decided to make her interest clear. Instead of looking away in embarrassment she held her gaze steady on his. She raised her glass in a toast and took a sip. The grin he flashed her had her toes curling, her stomach clenching, and her pussy throbbing. God, the man was lethal. She downed the rest of her wine in one gulp, but it didn't douse the fire raging inside her.

She had to lean over to see him as he loaded his clothes into the washer. Thank god for front loaders. Getting to see that gorgeous butt beneath those stretched tight shorts was heavenly.

Claire's imagination ran wild; she could see her hands smoothing all over those tight cheeks and diving between them to cup his balls. The warmth in her belly grew hotter, and she almost toppled off the stool when he turned in her direction.

Ryan was quick on his feet, up and over to her before she blinked. He steadied the stool and waited for her to get her balance. As he let go, his arm brushed her erect nipple. The slippery material of her negligee dragged across the engorged tip, sending darts of electricity shooting out and causing the bud to pucker tighter. Claire sucked in a breath, the action thrusting her chest closer to him.

Sitting on the stool put her eye-level with his throat. The bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed tantalized her. What would he taste like if I licked him there? Her body swayed forward, and her tongue slipped out to run over her bottom lip.

Ryan groaned, and Claire's world tilted.

His lips slammed onto hers. There were no gentle, getting to know you sweeps of his tongue. He thrust into her mouth, meeting no resistance as she gladly opened for him. Urgent need filled her. She wanted him. Their mouths devoured one another. Each taking and giving in a kiss so out of control Claire lost her breath. Tongues dueled, teeth scraped and bit. Desperate for more, she wove her fingers into his short hair and pulled him closer.

Ryan tore his mouth from hers and trailed hot kisses down her chin, along her jaw and up to the sensitive spot below her ear. Claire tilted her head to give him better access; the sensations he sent flying through her body had her mind spinning and her arousal soaring. With lips, teeth, and tongue he tortured her flesh and dragged little moans and whimpers from her throat. He nipped her earlobe, and she arched her back as liquid fire shot down her spine and into her pussy.

Moisture flowed from the plump folds of her sex, and her muscles clenched, aching to be filled. His hands were everywhere, moving across her robe, shifting the silk along sensitive skin and nerve endings, tantalizing her with pleasures to come. One hand cupped a breast, squeezed gently before weighing the mound in his palm. Skilled fingers plucked at her nipple, drawing it tighter. Claire pushed farther into his hold. His arm came around her back, bracing her, pulling her close, and trapping his hand between their heated bodies.

A yearning, raw and fevered, roared through Claire like a flash fire, consuming her—overwhelming her. The moans and whimpers she made were foreign to her ears, and she could only describe them as animalistic. She clawed at the back of Ryan's head, pushed him lower, and arched higher to offer him the breast longing for the attention of his mouth.

"More." Her voice, weak from desire, lacked strength. The demand came out as more of a plea.

Ryan's mouth fell on hers again. Hunger and need filled her every fiber. If she didn't get relief soon she'd die or burn up. His tongue brushed hers, as though it fought to take all she had and more. He pinched the nipple still in his fingers as he sucked on her tongue. Electrical pulses fired through her, dragged her closer to the edge of madness. Tearing her lips from his, she threw her head back and moaned.

Wet heat surrounded her other aching breast. Hard suction pulled it into the recesses of Ryan's mouth, and Claire bucked against him. He continued to play with her breasts, kept her shooting toward the peak with a swiftness she'd never known. Her eyes drifted closed, and she lost herself in a world of sensation. Nothing mattered but the bliss just out of reach. She wanted it now. She never wanted it to end.

"More. Please. Oh, God. More."

Her panted pleas filled the air, flowed around them. Ryan's hand left her breast. Claire whimpered in protest, but the whimper cut short when he smoothed his palm down her silk covered stomach and between her legs. The fabric of her robe separated, and she parted her thighs, offered him what his probing fingers sought. Her clit throbbed, and when his fingers brushed the tender nub she jerked. Her pussy clenched, moisture seeping out to spread over the already slick folds of her sex. His hand dipped lower, separating her outer lips and searching for entrance.

Claire ground her pelvis into his hand. The heel of his palm pushed on her clit and shot darts of pleasure into her womb, but his questing fingers were not enough penetration to get her over the peak and off the edge. Her orgasm was so close. She needed to come. Needed it more than her next breath. More than her last. Tilting her hips, Claire wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled them tighter together. Ryan's hard length pressed into the crease where her thigh met her groin, and the thought of having that cock inside her pussy made her thrust forward.

He was large. Thick and long, and she wanted to ride that thing as much as she wanted the orgasm fast approaching. Claire buried her face in the side of his neck, breathed in the clean scent of man and soap. She licked at his skin with the flat of her tongue, nibbled on the spot below his ear with her teeth. He did something with his hand—turned it and pushed down. Two fingers shoved deep inside her, a third rimmed her anus, and his palm pressed harder on her clit.

Claire's world exploded. She thrashed and bucked against him as her orgasm slammed into her. Stars flashed before her eyes, and her breath froze in her lungs. From head to toe she burned. Tingled. Feelings so overwhelming they drove a scream from her throat. The sensations went on and on. Ryan continued to work at her pussy, pushing her higher than she thought possible. The finger rimming her anus breached the muscle, just the tip sank inside, and Claire was blindsided by a second orgasm more devastating than the first.

She clung to him—her only lifeline to a world rapidly disappearing into the bliss of completion. Her mind spun and fought for control despite muscles gone lax with pleasure. She wanted to slip from the stool, from Ryan's firm embrace, to the floor below. His hand remained between her legs, and his other gripped her waist where he held her close. Claire had no idea when his mouth had left her breast, but it now did wicked things to the side of her neck.

Warm air fanned out over her skin, leaving trails of prickly heat behind. A shiver skipped down her spine, and she bowed against him, wanting more of the delight to be found in this man's hold.

Stimulated to the point of pain, Claire's body eagerly sought more. He bit the lobe of her ear, a gentle nip that sent fire racing through her veins again. Her arousal soared—seeking gratification like it hadn't been satisfied moments before. Pleasure and yearning collided in a maelstrom of fiery desire.

Claire tunneled her fingers into Ryan's hair, gripped his head, and pulled him closer. She ground her hips into his, the hand still buried inside her touching off sparks of craving deep within. More. She needed so much more. She wanted him to bury his cock in her pussy until she didn't know where he ended and she began. She wanted him to pound that hard flesh into her body like his life depended on it.

The urgency of her lust shocked her. No man had ever given her so much pleasure and made her want more. Ryan erased her memories of every other lover with his power over her body. He played it with a master's knowledge, and just when she thought he couldn't take anything else he pulled her past all previous boundaries—delivered her to paradise. Claire wanted it again. And more. God yes. So much more.

With frantic hands, she began to pull at his shirt, needing to feel his bare skin beneath her fingers. He pulled back and a sound of protest fell from her lips, but he didn't go far. Ryan grabbed the hem of his tee, whipped it off, and then threw it aside. Gleaming bronze flesh with a sprinkling of hair filled her vision. Sculpted pecs, washboard abs, and those lovely V-dents Claire had a thing for graced his hips. Her tongue licked out, ready to taste the spoils standing before her.

Ryan groaned and her gaze came up to meet his. Hunger blazed in his eyes—eyes gone black with just a ring of green around his dilated pupils. She stared at him, struck by his desire for her. He was so gorgeous, so young. He could have any woman he wanted, and he wanted her. Claire decided to take advantage of the opportunity while she could. She'd let Ryan have her for as long as he wanted, but right now she wanted a little piece of him.

Okay, maybe a big piece of him. Claire smiled and reached forward to run her hands over his mouth-watering chest. Ryan snared her wrists in his hands, kept them from touching him.

"Not yet. There's something I want to do first."

Ryan lowered her arms to her sides. He let them go to grab handfuls of her robe near her breasts. His fingertips brushed the sensitive globes, and Claire sucked in a breath. Air whooshed from her lungs when he yanked the fabric aside, pulling the delicate material off her shoulders in one quick move.

"God, you're gorgeous. Better than I imagined."

As he spoke, his fingers trailed lightly over the slope of her right breast, dipping into the cleavage before tracing the curve of her left breast. With a slowness that set her heart pumping, he circled beneath the weighty mound to travel the same path below—under the left, dip between the two, and around the right to reach where he'd started. Lazy, easy strokes that had goose bumps breaking out all over her body and shivers of delight rippling through her.

Moaning, Claire leaned into his touch. Disappointment surged through her when he took his hand away. She looked down to see his nimble fingers dispense with the knot in the sash; flinging the strip of silk away, he opened her robe completely and bared the rest of her body. No longer draped over her shoulders, the fabric pooled on the stool around her hips. Ryan took his time as he surveyed all he'd exposed. Claire squirmed under his close scrutiny—struggled to keep from covering herself with her hands.

"Don't." He reached out and touched her clenched fists with his fingers. "Don't think you need to hide. You're beautiful. Every inch of you."

Bringing her gaze up to meet his, she saw the strength of conviction in his eyes. Whether she thought herself worthy of him or not, he had already made his decision. And that was all that mattered. He liked what he saw. Claire took a deep breath and sat up straighter, thrusting out her chest and putting her body on display for Ryan to enjoy.

A smile teased his lips, and he leaned forward to brush his mouth over hers. She expected him to take the kiss deep, but instead he gripped her waist and lifted her from the stool. He turned and placed her on the breakfast bar. Her body tensed as hot flesh met cold granite. Chills shook her, and her nipples puckered. Before she could speak, he shoved her knees wide and stepped between her spread thighs. His cloth-covered cock brushed her clit, and Claire's hips surged forward to increase the pressure.

"Oh, yeah." He ground against her. "We'll get to that, but first I wanna do this."

He palmed her thighs, pushed them wider, and dropped to his knees in front of her. Hot air blew over her clit a second before Ryan's tongue lapped at the tender bud. Claire's pussy convulsed, and she put her hands out to find balance as her body jolted with another shot of pure fire. His talented tongue licked her from top to bottom, nothing forgotten in the assault he waged as he devoured her.

Limp with molten desire, she leaned back on the bench, dropped to her elbows and watched through hooded eyes as Ryan ate at her like a starving man. The sight of his dark head bobbing between her legs was enough stimulation to send her toward another release, but add it to the sensation of his moist tongue and lips eating flesh with abandon, and Claire would skyrocket to the peak and over in minutes. His tongue went places no man had ever been. His lips nipping at flesh dewy with want of him.

When he brought his fingers into play her body arched as if she'd been zapped with a jolt of electricity. He lapped at her clit and drove two digits deep into her clenching pussy. He coated his fingers in her moisture and spread it over her anus. Pleasure bombarded her, and any protests Claire might have made died in her mouth as he sank one finger deep within her back passage. Nerve endings never before stimulated went off like firecrackers, muscles clamped, and when Ryan sucked hard on her clit and again pushed two fingers into her vagina she exploded like an atomic bomb.

A scream ripped from her throat; her body arched and her head fell back as every muscle seized. White lightning shot through every part of her, shattering her senses with scorching heat. Ryan worked her body with mouth and fingers, never letting up the pace as he drove her wild—took her further than she'd ever been. Twinges from newly activated nerves sent electric pulses from her ass to her womb and cream gushed from her pussy, lubricating his fingers as he worked them in and out of her clenching body.

Fevered need filled her. Consumed her—mind, body, and soul—as she soared in the most devastating orgasm of her life. Tears leaked from her eyes. One final wave of ecstasy crashed over her. Finally spent, Claire slumped to the bench beneath her in a quivering heap. She couldn't move, couldn't think past the numbness fogging her mind.

Quote of the Day

"Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion." – Truvy, Steel Magnolias

Saturday Snippet

For Author's Choice this week, I thought I'd feature a snippet from my latest release, Slam Dunk. This book is part of the Black & White Collection. Books in this series don't need to be read in order as they are all unconnected, standalone stories. However, Slam Dunk is the sequel to Happy Hour, but apart from the same characters, once again, the story stands by itself.

Snippet:

When Derek leaned down and tried to kiss Ellie, Trey felt the cable snap. For the first time in his life, jealousy snaked through his body and he started toward the dance floor. He pulled up short when he saw Ellie break away from Derek, whispering something in his friend's ear. Derek headed back to the table, while Ellie took off in the direction of the ladies' room.

He debated which direction to go and then he followed her. She'd just entered the small restroom when he pushed the door open, walking in after her.

"What the hell—" she started.

He cut off the rest of her complaint with his lips. He turned and pushed her back against the door as he claimed her mouth. He'd wanted this for too long. Pure instinct drove his actions as he allowed his brain to shut down. He was tired of thinking and analyzing and worrying about how to proceed with Ellie.

Raising his hand, he flipped the lock. It wasn't until he'd secured them inside that he realized she wasn't fighting him. She'd raised her arms, wrapping her hands around his neck. She was kissing him back. Seriously kissing him. Her fingers caressed the back of his neck and Trey moved closer, wanting more. Needing more.

If he hadn't been so into her sweet kisses, he'd have been grinning his ass off. For several moments, he let himself fall into the pleasure of simply holding her. He licked her lower lip before pushing his tongue inside to taste the slight tang of the tequila and lime. She returned the touch.

"Ellie," he whispered, but she stopped him from saying more, pulling him tighter, keeping his lips pressed to hers.

Finally, they parted, staring at each other and breathing heavily.

"I don't like you dancing with Lisa," she said.

Her words tweaked something inside him. She wouldn't go out with him, but he wasn't allowed to dance with anyone else? For a second, his brain failed to process the fact he didn't want to dance with Lisa. "Tough shit. I don't want you kissing Derek."

She narrowed her eyes. "I can kiss anyone I want. I don't belong to you."

"Like hell," he growled, kissing her once more.

Ellie's fingers gripped the front of his shirt tightly as she roughly pulled him closer. He knew what was driving his hungry motions. It was jealousy, pure and simple. It appeared Ellie shared the sentiment. She raised her leg and wrapped it around his waist. He took the cue. Gripping her ass, he lifted her so that she could raise both legs. The position pushed her skirt higher and made it easy for him to press his denim-covered cock against her pussy.

Trey reconsidered his previous assumption. It wasn't jealousy driving this moment. It was desire.

He pushed against her as they kissed, the temperature in the small room rising until Trey decided it wasn't enough.

"Put your legs down," he said as he sucked on her lower lip. She followed his command and he lifted her skirt. Shoving her damp panties to one side, he thrust a finger into her dripping cunt.

Ellie jerked at the strong touch before her head fell back against the door.

Her hips met each reentry of his finger. He gritted his teeth and struggled not to come in his pants. She was hot and wet and her inner muscles clenched against his finger.

And she was tight. Holy fuck. He felt lightheaded as he realized just how good she'd feel gloved around his cock.

"God," she cried out when he added another finger to the dance. Her fingers dug into his arms as she rode his thrusts. She was a firecracker poised to detonate.

He leaned down and kissed her once more. He wanted to taste her screams as she came. He wasn't disappointed. After a few more thrusts, he rubbed her clit with his thumb and she exploded. He continued to kiss her as he gentled his motions, relishing her slight tremors as she came down from her climax.

The scent of her arousal surrounded them. Trey pulled his fingers from her quivering pussy and lifted them to his lips. She watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he licked her juices from his digits.

She moistened her lips and he couldn't resist stealing one more heated kiss. He could already see the wheels in her brain whirling. It wouldn't be long before her common sense returned and she pushed him away.

He gave her a quick, hot kiss that promised there were more to be had. If only she would ask.

Slam Dunk is available at Samhain, Amazon, and Barnes and Noble.

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Hitting the road!

Today I am hitting the road, pointing the hood of my car toward Akron, Ohio and the Romanticon conference. I'll be rooming with co-writing partner, Jayne Rylon and partying it up with my favorite cover artist, Valerie Tibbs, as well as my beloved critique partner, Rhian Cahill. If you haven't had a chance to check this conference out, I invite you to do so here. It's an annual event and truly a highlight of my year. This will be my third year attending. I laugh, dance, drink (a bit–shhh) and connect with writing friends and dear, dear readers. It's a wonderful experience. If you've ever considered attending a conference, I'd highly recommend this one.

AND…if you live near the Akron area, there is a free, open-to-the-public booksigning on Sunday, Oct. 2 from 12-4. I'll be there, but even better than that…THE CAVEMEN will be in attendance. Yummy!

Slam Dunk

Slam Dunk releases TODAY!
Black & White Collection, Book 6

Who says you can only score on the court?

When Ellie "Hottie" Hunter lands a job teaching science in the same high school as Trey Donovan, he knows the basketball gods are smiling on him. He's in need of an assistant coach and Ellie fits the bill perfectly. In fact, if Trey plays his cards right, Ellie may be his perfect match off the court as well as on.

Ellie's coming out of a bad relationship that not only broke her heart, but cost her the job she loved. Turning over a new leaf, she approaches her fresh start with a positive attitude and new rule—no more workplace romances. Unfortunately, her undeniable sexual attraction to Trey weakens that resolve. Maybe she could fudge the rule…just a little. Casual sex doesn't count, right?

Right?

Warning: Lots of red-hot, half-dressed court presses complete with sex toys, food, bubble baths, strip poker and, oh yeah, balls.

Read Excerpt.

Slam Dunk is available at Samhain and Amazon.

Overnight Contest!

This is a quick contest to celebrate the release of Slam Dunk tomorrow at Samhain. Slam Dunk is part of the Black & White Collection and the sequel to Happy Hour. You can preorder it now at Samhain, Amazon, and Barnes and Noble.

I am hosting a chat at the Samhain cafe in 30 minutes where I'll share excerpts from Slam Dunk and Happy Hour. I'll also be around to chat about all the books in the series! Have any burning questions to ask me? Want some inside scoops or sneak peeks? If so, come on over. I'll be around from 8 EST until 9, though I can hang out longer if the party's hopping!

For this contest, simply take a peek at each of the Black & White covers and tell me which one is your favorite. I'm always interested in hearing what draws readers to a cover. Winner will be announced at 5 EST on Tuesday, Sept. 27. Prize is a signed copy of Learning Curves (the print antho of Erotic Research and Tequila Truth).