Lexxie Couper's Blog, page 16

Wednesday Weigh-In – Week Nine

So what happened to the other weeks between three (my last Weigh-In Wednesday post) and today’s? The best explanation can be found here. The good news is, despite becoming a social hermit, I did not falter in my weight loss goals. The even better news? I’m the lightest I’ve been for three years!

Brendon the Brutal (aka Brendon the Benevolent, Brendon the Balanced and Brendon the Biceps) has kept me on task. His guidance and positive energy is amazing and I just want to take a quick moment here to say thank you to him and everyone else at WellFit. If you’re a Novocastrian and you feel like you really need a kick up the butt to get healthy I can’t recommend them enough. Seriously.

Now, onto the highlight of my journey so far. It’s a simple one, but when it happened I have never been happier.

Last night my husband looked up at me from his laptop, ran his gaze over me from head to toe and back to head again and said, “You’re looking good, woman.”

To understand why this made me feel so unbelievably happy and proud of me, you need to understand my husband doesn’t do open declarations of approval or admiration. In fact, compliments aren’t common in our house at all. A simple statement like, “You’re looking good, woman” roughly translates to “Wow, wife, you are looking damn sexy and fine”. To give you even more insight into my husband’s compliment, picture me in a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. That’s it. Not sexy underwear, just jeans and a T-shirt. No makeup, no recently brushed hair. Me, jeans, a plain T-shirt and hair that hadn’t seen a brush for over ten hours.

Now do you get an idea what it was like to hear “You’re looking good, woman”?

Nine weeks of determination, dedication, commitment and, lets face it, chocolate sacrifice came down to that one simple statement. And my heart burst with joy.

Week Nine Details

Weight – 77.2kg (remember, my starting weight was 86.7kgs on the 7th January)

Nickname for Brendon – Brendon the Banisher

Thing I’m craving the most – Iced Vo-Vo biscuits

Mood – Jubilent

 

Tuesday’s Teasing Snippet – Dark Destiny

It’s almost here, the rebirth of the award-winning erotic paranormal romance once called Death, the Vamp and his Brother. Dark Destiny (Book 1 of the Principatus series) is available March 19 so today I’m going to whet your appetite for some wickedly sinful apocalyptic romance by introducing three of the main players of Dark Destiny. It’s a bit of a naughty one, just in case you need a warning.

Enjoy.

***

Christ, she felt amazing. Even as Patrick’s mind struggled to process the unreal shit currently tormenting it, his body reveled in the firm but lush softness of the woman pressed against it. Whoever Fred was, whatever Fred was, she felt like sin.

And as a result, he felt on fire.

He stared at her, stared into eyes the color of blue ice. Without the concealing sunglasses, her eyes were almost hypnotic, framed by thick black lashes and a face almost impishly beautiful. She was undeniably, incredibly sensual in a mysterious, exotic way and his cock grew stiffer. It liked what it saw—and felt—a lot.

His erection nudged her belly and a soft moan slipped from between her lips. She licked them, flicking the tip of her tongue over the soft, full swell of her bottom one before catching it with white, even teeth. He watched, enrapt. A surge of heat flooded his balls at the simple seductive action and his cock twitched again, growing longer and harder. It pushed against the firm flatness of her stomach, insistent. Eager.

Jesus, Patrick. What’s wrong with you?

The woman’s eyelids fluttered closed for a second, another moan—softer and longer—sounding in her throat before those arresting eyes of hers returned to his again, holding his stare as she pushed her hips forward.

Her smooth thighs slid against his, the curve of her sex rubbing the root of his shaft. The thick ebony curtain of her hair tumbled over her bare shoulders as she lifted her chin a little, almost daring him to…what? He sucked in a sharp breath, tasting her subtle musk on the air.

An insane urge to crush her mouth with his surged through Patrick and he frowned. “Who are you?”

“I told you.” Her voice was a husky murmur. “Call me Fred.”

Her breath fanned his lips in a whisper of warm air. Her eyes challenged him from behind a few tousled strands of her hair. He could feel her heart beating against his chest. Could feel the hard points of her nipples rubbing against his flesh. She shifted under his weight, her crotch aligning with his in perfect symmetry. His cock—the most honest and truthful organ of a man’s body—jerked. Engorged with blood and undeniable desire. Thicker and harder than ever before.

Something deep and long repressed ignited within his core. Something hungry and powerful. Closing his fingers tighter around Fred’s wrists, he growled.

And she captured the wild sound with her mouth.

Her tongue plunged past his lips and he met it with his own, lashing and battling the wonderful invasion. She tasted of secret spices and cool allure. He should be pushing her away. He should be calling the cops or the men in white jackets, but there wasn’t a force strong enough in the world capable of tearing his lips from hers at that very moment in time. He thrust deeper into her mouth, wanting to explore its delicious sweetness.

Pressing his body harder to hers, he raked his hands down her arms, scoring a line along the subtle dip of her waist, over the curve of her hips and back up to her ribcage. The full swell of her breasts were compressed against his chest and he brushed the backs of his fingers along their sides, drinking in her moan as he continued to kiss her. She shifted beneath him, maneuvering in his hold until he felt the dampness of her arousal stroke the base of his throbbing cock. His head spun and his blood turned hot. She wanted him. As much as he wanted her.

Refusing to break the kiss or contact with her lower body, he captured her breasts with his hands. Their heavy weight spilled over his squeezing fingers, sending a ribbon of liquid power into his groin. Jesus, none of this made any sense. In fact, he was probably still dreaming, but what a dream. If his mind really was unhinged, he was more than happy to go along for the ride. As long as this woman—Fred—was in the passenger’s seat, his to hold and kiss, he’d spend the rest of eternity in a padded cell.

A low, raw growl in the back of Fred’s throat sent another surge of lust straight to his cock. She writhed against him, fighting his hands on her breasts even as she wrapped one long leg around his hip. Immediately, the soft heady musk of her desire filled his breath and his pulse quickened. Bloody hell, this was insane.

She rolled her hips, sliding her spread sex up his rigid cock, painting its length with her cream. Hot, wet pleasure crashed through him. He jerked his mouth from hers, staring hard into her pale blue eyes.

“Anytime, Patrick Watkins.”

The ambiguous invitation slipped from her lips. He didn’t need to ask what she meant. The heat in her body, the scent of her desire told him.

Dragging his hands from her breasts, he grabbed her hips, yanking her arse from the wall and sinking his fingers into her butt cheeks. Without preamble, he hauled her from the floor and spun about, throwing her onto his bed before she could utter a sound of resistance.

She slammed against the mattress, ink-black hair fanning around her head like a dark halo. He stood at the foot of his bed for a moment and gazed at her. Pale, flawless skin, firm, toned muscles, full, high breasts, small dark nipples, soft black pubic hair shaped in a shallow crescent. The familiar silhouette held his attention and his heartbeat quickened, his cock growing painful with fresh blood at the sight.

Crescent? Like a scythe?

“Do you like it?”

Her question raised his head and he met her stare. “Yes.”

Without breaking eye contact, he placed his right knee on the bed between her legs. His cock felt like a rod of steel, so erect the edge of its distended head bumped his abdomen with every move he made. He shifted his weight onto his bent knee, smoothing his palms up the bed until they were beside Fred’s waist, leaning slightly over her body as he raised his left foot from the floor.

She watched him with ice-blue eyes. Unreadable eyes. Her breath came short and shallow through parted lips. He slid the outside of his left knee along her inner calf, a slow, deliberate journey toward the junction of her thighs and its mesmerizing crescent, inching her legs further apart as he did so. A soft, almost inaudible whimper sounded in Fred’s throat and her eyes fluttered closed.

Jesus, she is gorgeous.

The thought whipped through Patrick’s head…a split second before she opened her eyes and gave him a smoldering look. “No offense, Patrick Watkins, but this is taking too long.”

With inhuman speed, she jackknifed her body. Her long firm legs locked around his thighs, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. Before he could react, he was on his back, pressed flat to the mattress, Fred straddling his hips. “I really want you to fuck me,” she stated, lowering her body closer to his as she threaded her fingers through his and held his hands locked beside his head. “Right now.”

Patrick stared up at her…and the door slammed open, the sudden crack of wood splintering against drywall like an explosive shot.

Ven stepped into the room, his light green stare locked on the bed. “What the hell’s going—” He froze, and Patrick saw recognition flood his face. “You!”

In the space of a heartbeat, he transformed. From a good-looking, slightly pale man, to a terrifying, malevolent creature. He lunged straight for Fred, knocking her off Patrick in one blurring leap, his hands locking around her throat, fangs extended, eyes burning baleful yellow.

***

You can buy Dark Destiny from Samhain, Amazon, Barnes and Noble and lots of other ebook resellers.

Monday’s Movie Trailer – Much Ado About Nothing

Click here to view the embedded video.

What is there NOT to love about this: Joss Whedon, William Shakespeare and Agent Phil Coulson. Yes, this IS the prefect movie. I can not wait!!

Hey, Remember Me?

So I dropped off the face of the planet there for a while, didn’t I? Sorry about that. Two things happened:

One. I was getting my butt kicked by a deadline and a book. The book, or more to the point, the heroine wasn’t playing nice with me. The heroine (Pepper) refused to come out of the shadows. I couldn’t get a grip on her and as a consequence, I was getting further and further behind in my deadline. It was due last Friday to my Samhain editor but I’ve only JUST finished it now. Argh! It’s kind of ironic Pepper didn’t want me to know her. She’s chronically shy, you see. I’ve never written a heroine like her and it was a real struggle. But once I coaxed her out of her shell the words started to flow and flow and flow. Just wish it hadn’t taken so damn long

Two. I suffer from depression. Unfortunately, when it hits me, I withdraw from the world. Pretend I don’t exist. When it hits me while I’m struggling with a book I become a social-network hermit. This time, it really hit me hard at the wrong moment–when I was trying to understand a character. When I get like this I think the world hates me. I see negative things in every email, Twitter comment and facebook update. It sucks and I fight it whenever it crashed down on me. I think most creative people have to deal with some kind of instability. The good thing is, I am surrounded by wonderful supporting people and I could never come out the other end of these bouts without them. They know who they are and how much I love them. On an up note, I’ve walked out of the shadows again and am feeling much better. I think the Australian Romance Readers Convention in Brisbane last weekend was helped. To be with so many other authors and readers was wonderful. And as always, the support and love of my husband was my rock to cling to. Love you, Sexy Man.

So there’s my reasons. I hope you all understand.

I’m back on track again and shall be returning to my normal blog schedule starting tomorrow. Oh, and Weigh-In Wednesday will be returning this coming Wednesday (funny that, ‘eh ). Those that have been following my weight loss efforts will be really surprised. I know I am

To leave you for now, here’s a piccie of Colin Firth (Yes, this means Colin Firth Fridays are back. Seriously, what was I thinking taking it away?)

Wanna Protest? Do It This Way…

Lesson Time! Misplaced Lessons OUT NOW!

Two releases in a row. Can you believe it? Today, the third book in the Foreign Affairs series releases. I’m so excited about this book. For starters, it was the third book the most awesome Mari Carr and I worked on together, and secondly it placed an Australian heroine in the US. Am I allowed to say, I wanted to be Amy often?

Mari Carr has said of Amy, “Amy, the heroine, made me smile. I’m not sure I’ve enjoyed writing a heroine quite this much since Riley in Saturday Night Special.”

Misplaced Lessons will be available from Amazon and Barnes and Noble any day now, but if you can’t wait (and really, how could you?? *grin*) you can buy it at Ellora’s Cave now. Just click HERE

If you’re just hopping into the global adventures, Misplaced Princess and Misplaced Cowboy are available now. Buy links can be found here.

Misplaced Lessons

Foreign Affairs, Book Three

A forced-sex fantasy is one thing—waking to find a scruffy man binding you to a bed is quite another. Amy fights him, until she realizes her friend must have set up the sexy scenario. They’ve swapped lives, with Harper flying to Australia and lending her Chicago home to Amy. While she’s surprised Harper would go to such lengths to help her fulfill a fantasy, Amy figures…why not?

After days of nonstop travel, Andrew arrives at the home he shares with his sister, Harper, with sleep on his mind—until he finds a naked intruder in his bed. Subduing the beauty, he assumes she’s the blind date his pal had tried to set him up with. But would Mike actually sneak the woman into Andrew’s house? Seems so. And he’s not one to turn down such a gift.

By the time each has learned the other’s identity, Amy and Andrew have shared the most intense sexual experience of their lives. And they certainly don’t want to stop now.

Inside Scoop: This sexy life-swapping tale includes BDSM with a side of ménage.

A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Excerpt:

“I’m not going to hurt you.” His words sounded ridiculous even to himself. He’d gagged her and was now straddling her naked body, holding her legs to the mattress with his own after tying her to the bed. Regardless of who she was or why she was there, she’d be insane not to be afraid of his intentions.

She twisted her head, trying to dislodge the shirt from her mouth.

“If I take it out, do you promise not to scream?”

She blinked rapidly then nodded her assent.

He pulled the material away, ready to replace it if she broke her vow.

“Untie me.”

“No.” Andrew reached up to touch his tender cheek, his fingers finding the raised welts she’d put there with her long nails. “Who are you?”

Her breathing was labored, coming in hard pants after their fight. Even so, her gaze hardened and he knew she wouldn’t talk.

Something inside him cracked. He’d been traveling for days, stealing only a couple hours sleep here and there. This woman had broken into his house. She had some nerve acting like he was the villain. By God, he’d make her talk.

“I’ll give you one more chance to answer my question. Tell me who you are or you won’t like the consequences.”

She stilled beneath him, her intelligent gaze sizing him up. He should climb off the bed and call the cops. If he was in his right mind, that’s exactly what he’d do. Having her arrested would certainly be the kinder response. As it was, he wasn’t in the mood to be merciful.

Instead of answering, she threw his question back at him. “Who are you?”

“None of your business. Give me your name. Now.”

She bit her lip nervously. “I’m Amy.”

Amy? Mike’s Amy?

Andrew leaned back on his haunches, his mind whirling. Had Mike set this up? Past experience had obviously convinced his friend he’d never consent to a blind date. But would Mike actually go so far as to throw this woman into his bed?

Andrew knew the answer. It was more than possible. It was actually quite probable. Mike had the extra key to the house. He knew Harper was away and Andrew was back in town.

Andrew recalled a lifetime of little surprises his best friend had tossed his way. The high-class call girl who’d shown up at his door on his twenty-fifth birthday. The so-called conference that had really turned out to be an impromptu weekend trip to Vegas, complete with nonstop gambling and a private show with five of the hottest strippers Andrew had ever seen. Or this past year when Mike had managed to score tickets to the Super Bowl, but told Andrew they were headed to Indianapolis for his cousin’s bachelor party. He’d let Andrew bitch for three hours in the car about missing the big game, only letting him in on the surprise when they’d reached the entrance to the stadium.

Mike was the master of the unexpected, so it wasn’t farfetched that his friend would go to this extreme in a hookup. It would also explain his friend’s easy capitulation when he refused to go on a date with the woman earlier. Mike didn’t push the issue because he knew Amy was already here.

He grinned as his annoyance lifted. Amy was beautiful and feisty, with a hot accent. Australian, if he wasn’t mistaken, though he’d need to hear her say more before he could be sure. His best friend knew he was a sucker for a girl with an accent. For the second time in one night, it looked like Mike was going to be able to say, “I told you so.”

And since Mike had gone to so much trouble, far be it from Andrew to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Misplaced Lessons is available at Ellora’s Cave, Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

AVAILABLE NOW – Muscle for Hire

I knew Aslin Rhodes was going to get his own book halfway through writing Love’s Rhythm. He was such a dominating presense, a quiet British super-sodier-cum-bodyguard. How could I NOT write his own book. What took me by surprise was the suspense element of his story. And the fiesty, take-no-prisoners heroine who presented herself in Rowan Hemsworth.

I love this book and I hope you all do as well.

Here’s a snippet to whet your appetites

***

Warm approval rolled through Aslin. It threaded through the base physical attraction he felt for Rowan. There was so much more to this woman than just a gorgeous body and sexy strength. She was protective, stubborn and not afraid to face any challenge to those she loved.

The realization was unsettling. It made the heavy pressure in his groin all the more exquisite and painful. Mindless fucking wasn’t mindless when the woman he was fucking stirred him on an emotional level as well. And Christ, did Rowan Hemsworth stir him on an emotional level.

His blood roared in his ears. The adrenaline still lingering in his veins from his earlier mechanical-bull ride surged through him again, this time fed by an excitement far more potent.

He could fall for Rowan Hemsworth if he let himself. Hard. Fast.

The thought made his mouth dry. He’d had numerous lovers in his time, but nothing serious. Protecting Nick—and then Lauren and Josh—had been his priority. He met his sexual desires when needed and went back to work. But that work, that life, was almost in his past. What did that mean for everything else in his life?

“So tell me, super soldier—” Rowan’s stare held his, a shadow deep in her eyes Aslin longed to understand, “—what exactly are you hoping to achieve working on Dead Evenwith my brother?”

To get to know you better.

The words, the confession, almost slipped from him. They were there, right on his tongue. They made his heart thump harder and his stomach coil. Instead, he leant forward, drew his gaze level with Rowan’s and said, “To make him the most believable super soldier Hollywood has ever seen.”

“Oh well, in that case—” she chinked her glass against his, a smile playing with her lips, “—here’s to super soldiers on and off screen.”

She downed her scotch in a single mouthful and then ran the tip of her tongue along her top lip. Aslin stared at the small pink tip of flesh, hypnotized. He wondered what it would feel like sliding against his. Would she taste of scotch if he kissed her now? Or would her mouth be sweet and warm?

Would he lose himself in the kiss? Would she moan into his mouth and wrap her arms around his back?

Would she press her hips to his?

Would she—

***

So yeah, that’s where I’m leaving it. I’m a tease, I know. Sorry 

You can buy Muscle for Hire at Samhain, Amazon, Barnes and Noble and all good ebook resellers NOW!!! Yay!!

Muscle for Hire is the second book in the Heart of Fame series (The first book was Love’s Rhythm). Guarded Desires, book three, comes out in July and Steady Beat, the fourth book hits the world later in the year. Then there’s another four next year.

Look What’s About To Begin Soon…

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Weigh-In Wednesday – Week Three

Temptation. I had it twice last week. Friday night (the night of the hottest day in Australian history) The Husband and I went out for dinner with our best friends. This was the first time I’d eaten out since starting my transformation on the 7th. How did I go?

Brilliantly. I choose my meal wisely (Thai beed salad, no bread), had only one drink (a gin and tonic) and shared dessert with The Husband (chocolate ricotta tart). Never once did I feel deprived.

Sunday came with a different temptation. The Husband’s family had their regulary January Birthday Celebration (all the men in my husband’s family were born in January) and this year, the menu was pizza. Dominoes pizza, to be exact. I love pizza. Love it. But I knew if I had one slice of pizza I’d fall off the wagon. So I didn’t. On the way to my mother-in-law’s place, I made a pit stop at Subways and bought myself a roast beef and salad 6″. I enjoyed every bite of that sub. Every bite. And once again, I did not feel deprived.

To say I was proud of myself is an understatement. I’ve rediscovered my will-power. Yay!

And guess what? Come stepping on the scales, I got a lovely surprise. I’d lost over a kilo and a half. Double yay!!

Now, if only I could stop whimpering when my personal trainer makes me do inverse ab curls. *sigh*

Week Three Details

Weight – 84.8kg

Nickname for Brendon – Brendon the Brilliant

Thing I’m craving the most – Chocolate

Mood – Determined

 

When My Brain Plays Mean With Me…

So last night, around 10:30pm, I decided to do some work. I opened my laptop and clicked on Word. Steady Beat, my current WIP was open and I scrolled to the end. Only to discover the last thing I’d written wasn’t there. In fact, about a thousand words were missing.

I thought, shit, maybe I wrote those words on the desktop. I got up and walked downstairs to my office, my heart thumping fast. Opened Word. Opened Steady Beat . Scrolled to the bottom on the file.

It’s only 1500 words long instead of the 3000 words on my laptop. Shit. Where are my missing words??

Head back upstairs to the living room, my laptop and my curious husband. I tell him what’s happened. By this stage, it’s close to 10:45pm. I look for the correct file, thinking I must have opened the wrong one, or that I’d saved it as a different title without thinking.

Nothing.

Still can’t find the words I’d written.

I start to panic. My throat gets tight.

I tell my husband I can’t find the words, struggling to keep the panic out of my voice. I fail.

He asks me to let him see my laptop. (For those that’s don’t know, my husband is an IT Guru. There’s little he can’t do on a computer). He spends the next hour and a half trying to find the missing words. He can’t find them. I know I’ve written them, so where are they? He makes the grave error of telling me to “just write them again”.  In a moment of blind rage, I tell him what I think of that idea and he discovers exactly what it’s like to be married to a creative person who has lost something they poured their soul into. I pour my soul into every word I write and his suggestion to “just write them again” is NOT want I need to hear right now. I need my IT Guru husband to say “Oh here they are.”

He doesn’t say that. What he says is, “I don’t know where they are. I’ll run a program to undelete everything you’ve deleted on your laptop this last week. It’s going to take a while.”

It’s past midnight. twenty-five minutes past midnight to be exact. On a Sunday night. On a rational level, I understand I’m not the most popular wife in the room at that moment in time. On a creative level, I don’t give a rat’s bum. I need my words back. WHERE ARE MY WORDS???

At 12:50am, my husband tells me the program is running and it’ll take an hour or more. He suggests we go to bed and try and sleep.

Feeling sick, confused and depressed, I clean my teeth and climb into bed.

My head hits my pillow.

And then I have a thought. A wholly unsettling thought.

I scramble out of bed, ignoring my husband who repeatedly asks what’s wrong. I hurry down the hallway into the living room where my handbag is sitting on the armchair facing the TV. I pick it up and withdraw the notepad I keep in there, the one I write in when words come and I’m no where near my laptop or computer.

I open the notebook.

And there are the words. The words I’d written on Wednesday while waiting for my daughters to finish a school-holiday dance camp. The words I had yet to transcribe into my laptop.

There are there, waiting for me.



Suffice to say, I apologised to my husband when I walked back into our bedroom.

All he could do was laugh. God, I love him.