Tiffany Patterson's Blog, page 2

Did Somebody Say Holiday Novellas??

I hope you did because you’re about to get not one but two holiday novellas from me. First up: A Holiday Temptation.

Remember Mark O’Brien? Executive Assistant to the one and only Aaron Townsend, as well as Connor O’Brien’s younger brother? Yes? Good, because he’s finally getting his own story. Here’s a snippet from A Holiday Temptation

***SNEAK PEEK. UNEDITED. SUBJECT TO CHANGE***

The strumming of my heartbeat was so loud during the first hour of the meeting, I barely heard any of what was said. Throughout our working lunch, the sandwiches and salad tasted like cardboard, as I remained keenly aware of the negative energy flowing my way from the man to my right.

            Mark O’Brien.

            No longer a sixteen-year-old boy. A fully grown man. In a wheelchair.

            My heart squeezes so tightly that it feels as if I may blackout for a moment. I tightly grip onto the sides of my chair and will myself to breathe. It takes a few minutes, but the tightness releases slightly, and I’m able to refocus on the meeting at hand. More like the end of the meeting.

            We’ve been at Townsend Industries for over four hours, and finally, we’re wrapping things up to head out for the day.

            I don’t dare to look over at Mark, who I’d felt shooting me daggers throughout the meeting. Instead, I rise from my seat, thank Aaron Townsend for having us, and start for the door behind Jase.

            “Jackie, I need to speak with Aaron in his office. Now would be a great time for you and Mark to talk and figure out a schedule for you all to get together over the next few weeks.”

            My eyes balloon, but Jase doesn’t notice as he spins on his heels and follows Aaron out the door. My eyes circle the room and come to land on the exact person I’d been hoping to avoid. Mark doesn’t make a secret of mean mugging me this time. I venture to guess it’s because, save for two members of the staff, cleaning up the room, we’re the only people left here.

            I shift my weight from one high heel to the other, feeling more uneasy than I remember feeling in a very long time. Even as I sat at the funeral of one of my best friends, Deirdre, three years ago, after she died from an overdose, I didn’t feel this uncomfortable. Probably because at Dierdre’s funeral, I’d been numb and more concerned with making sure her younger sister, Desiree, my other best friend, was okay.

            However, now, as I stand in this spacious board room with only Mark and myself, the closer he gets, the more and more the walls seem to close in on me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He demands in a low but vicious tone of voice.

I force myself to push the air out of my lungs and to open my mouth. “M-Mark, I—”  

“Why are you here?”

I swing my gaze from one side of the room to the other, somewhat hoping that someone else will answer for me. When no one does, I manage to get my brain working again.

Lifting my chin, I stare at him and answer, “I’m working.”

His jaw clenches, and I have to fight not to break eye contact.

“For Cypress? All of a sudden?” The accusation in his voice is palpable.

I nod, nonetheless. “I moved back to Williamsport a month ago.” I bite my tongue just in time to keep the words after my father died from slipping out.

“Go back to wherever the hell you were before.” 

I flinch at the harshness in his tone. The deep line on his forehead speaks of his rage.

But I can’t go back. My mother needs me here. Even if she doesn’t know it.

“No. And you and I need to find some way to work together. I-I’m sorry about the past and—”  

“Don’t you dare speak to me of the past,” he growls, effectively cutting me off. “You don’t ever get to mention shit about the past to me.”

The pain of his words cuts through my belly, but somehow I manage to keep myself upright.

“Fine. But, we still have a job to do.”

“I’m not working with you.” He shakes his head fervently, his lips pinching. However, as he pivots his chair to move around me, I take the bold move of stepping in front of him. His scowl grows angrier, something a moment ago, I didn’t think was possible.

“Move.”

“I will. Once we work out a schedule to get this project done.”

He opens his mouth, and before words come out, I already know it’s going to be another refutation of our working together.

Interrupting, I insist. “We have to, Mark.” I quickly glance over my shoulder, making sure that we’re still the only ones in the room. “Look, this is uncomfortable for both of us. I get it. Yet, we’re adults. Professionals. And we have a lot to get done in the next seven and a half weeks. Your boss doesn’t seem like the type to fool around. He put you in charge of this assignment. I’m assuming that means he trusts you to get it done.”

I pause, allowing time for my words to sink in. The line in Mark’s forehead eases, just a pinch, but enough that I can see common sense is overtaking his anger.

He runs a hand across his forehead, rubbing the tension out as he stares down into his lap.

I take this time to let my gaze settle on him for the first time since I entered this boardroom. It makes no sense for me to notice how absolutely gorgeous he still is. The same as he was when we were teenagers. Back then, he had the height advantage at six-foot-one at sixteen. Now, he doesn’t need the height to still be as eye-catching with his dirty blond hair thanks to his Irish roots, chiseled jaw, and light hazel eyes.

Back in high school, those eyes always appeared to be smiling with the smallest amount of mischief tucked away inside their depths. Right now, though, there’s nothing hidden about the ways his eyes reveal how much he despises the fact that we’ve been thrown together on this project.

“You’re right. Aaron trusts me, and this job is important to me. We’ll work together. Via phone and email only. I don’t want to see your face.”

His response leaves me stunned long enough that he’s able to maneuver his chair around my body and out of the door before I can even respond.

“Ready to go?” Jase questions, having returned from his meeting with Aaron.

Silently, I nod and follow Jase out of the boardroom. Suzette reappears, just as cheery as she was before, and walks us down the long hallway toward the exit. Peering over, I see Mark at the lobby’s main entranceway, staring into his computer screen as he speaks into a headset.

Resisting the urge to stare at his profile for too long, I turn to Suzette, giving her a pasted on smile as she continues talking about how excited she is for the holiday season.

A part of me wishes I was as excited as Suzette is for the holidays. But between a grieving mother, an overbearing father who’s still controlling me from his grave, and a work project that’s put me in direct course with the man I meant to avoid, it doesn’t look like there’s anything to look forward to this holiday season.

Are You Ready for Angelo Genovese?

I hope the answer to that question is a resounding YES! Because Angelo’s book will be dropping soon. To prove it, I’ve got a little preview for you. Meet Angelo and Kierra

***UNEDITED. SUBJECT TO CHANGE***

My sister’s joyous laughter floated to my ears from afar, above the crashing of the ocean waves. I let out a sigh as I ran my hands up and down my bare arms. I should’ve been happy for her. I tried being happy for her. Yet, staring at the dark sky, and seemingly black waters, broken up by the reflection of the moon, I again felt the deep loneliness that’d been my constant companion as of late.

            I rolled my eyes at my dramatics and shook the feeling off. “This is Sierra’s day,” I mumbled to myself. No matter how nontraditional Sierra’s new union may be and trust me, it was unconventional I needed to be happy for her. I fought to suppress my doubts on whether her being married to two men—twins, was best for her, and to celebrate her joy.

            Goosebumps began to form along my arms, and a chill raced through me. It must’ve been the cooler night air. Although we were on an island located in the South Pacific somewhere, and the temperature hovered around eighty degrees, even with the sundown. I turned ready to rejoin the crowd in celebration, and my breath hitched at the pair of olive green eyes staring back at me.

My entire body shook. Angelo’s firm attention held me captive. I attempted to look away, to break the connection with his gaze, but my eyes refused to look elsewhere. He was my twin sister’s new cousin-in-law.

As I inhaled, my eyes began moving again, but not away from him, over the length of his body. My gaze gently perused over his, admittedly, gorgeous face. And those green, hypnotizing eyes, full bottom lip, the dark slashing eyes brows that matched the color of the jet black hair on his head. His hair was short, stopping at his ears, with the top a little longer. He’d cut it recently. According to Sierra, it was once long enough to wear in a ponytail or fall around his shoulders.

Not that I asked, of course. My sister decided to volunteer that information. Why I opted to tuck that piece of data away to remember was anyone’s guess. Luckily, I stopped my gaze from trailing down the full length of his slender body. Angelo wasn’t broad, like my sister’s husbands. He had more of a runner’s build, and he kept it in immaculate condition. I’d caught sight of him the day before in a pair of swimming trunks, while he worked out on the beach.

He had the perfect golden coloring, all over, from days spent in the Mediterranean sun. Or from being born with it in his blood.

I cleared my throat and finally looked away.

“You looked lonely,” he finally said.

My toes curled into the sand. The sandals, I’d changed into after the ceremony, were in my hand.

“I’m not,” I retorted before shifting to head back over to the crowd where it was safe, where I was safe from him.

Angelo had other plans, as he moved to stand in my way. “Bored, perhaps?”

Though he spoke perfect English, I noted the whisper of an accent, particularly as he clipped the endings off of certain words. One word came to mind upon hearing it.

Sexy.

Again, I didn’t give that thought much credence. I’d often found accents sexy—no big deal.

“Excuse me.”

He smirked. “What do you need excuses for?”

“I mean, you’re in my way.”

“Am I?”

“Are you what?”

“In your way? Or are you just being stubborn?”

“Excuse you?” I placed my hand on my hip.

He tilted his head to the side, and though it was dark, I could make out a particular shifting in that cocky gaze of his.

“You’ve avoided me the entire week we’ve been on this island.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know you to be avoiding you. Besides, I’m here for my sister. Being her maid of honor required my full attention.”

A deep, inviting chuckle broke free from his lips.

More goosebumps, accompanied by the hair on my arms standing.

“We both know that to be a lie. Miei cugini give your sister all the attention she needs. And more.”

I wasn’t quite sure of the words, but I assumed he was referring to his cousins. I let my eyes drift over into the distance. From where I stood, I spotted Sierra dancing with one of her husbands again. His back was to be, so I couldn’t tell which one it was, but I knew Angelo’s statement to be true. The last thing Sierra would ever want for is attention.

I envied that.

I turned my head forward and sharply inhaled when I found that Angelo had moved close enough to reach out and touch me. Literally. He reached out with his right hand and let his fingers gently trail down the length of my arm. A simple whisper of a touch, yet my nipples responded as if he had the key to start my sexual engine.

I stepped back. Don’t touch me, was on the tip of my tongue. But my mouth failed me. I couldn’t produce the words.

“Defiant,” he said frowning.

I wanted to laugh. That is the absolute last word most people would use to describe me. Compliant? Yes. Defiant? No way.

“I need to get back to the wedding.” My voice was significantly weaker than at the start of this conversation.

Angelo glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to me. “Or you can spend the night with me.”

 I should’ve slapped him for even suggesting it. Who the hell did he think I was? Just because my sister married into his criminal enterprise of a family didn’t mean that I was looking for some kind of a cheap thrill.

Those thoughts ran through my mind to throw at him, but then he moved, taking my hand into his, pulling me into his body. None too gently, either. His other hand made its way to my hip, squeezing. Again, his hold was firm, not soft in any way.

His lips barreled down over mine. His tongue was so warm and tantalizing that I had no choice but to separate my lips. I yearned to feel him inside of me, in any way I could get it. That was the moment I realized that my deepest fears had come true.

I would give myself to this man.

For You – Coming Soon

For You is the first book in my Townsends of Texas series and it’s coming soon! Below, I’ve provided a snippet of the first encounter between Micah Townsend and Jodi Taylor. I can’t wait for you all to meet them. Enjoy.

I gritted my teeth but nodded. Oliver Wilson was an entitled piece of work, like most of my clients were. I worked with high-end business owners, CEOs, and government officials who were used to having others kiss their assess. Though I didn’t play that game, it was still a pain in the ass to be around them at times.  

“Yeah, I—” I began to tell Oliver how I’d have my team proceed, but a noise from up the hall captured my attention. My door was open, so I could distinctly hear sounds coming from my office’s lobby. One of them was a female’s voice, but it wasn’t Leona. This voice was unfamiliar to me, yet I instantly needed to see the face of the person it was attached to. The need was as compelling as the need to take my next breath.

“Oliver, I’m going to have to get back to you.” Without more explanation than that, I disconnected the call and quickly exited my office. Behind me, I heard Hound following, but I didn’t pause to allow him to catch up.

The voice grew louder, the closer I got to the lobby. Oddly, the closer I drew to the sound of the woman, the quicker my heart pulsed.

“That was extremely unprofessional and rude. Especially, since I wasn’t allowed to explain what my case entailed. To be told …”

I halted as soon as my gaze landed on the woman who was standing over Leona’s desk. She was irate. And beautiful. I allowed my eyes to linger on her honey-toned face, and her oddly colored, brownish eyes as they narrowed on Leona. She stood about five-foot-eight inches, but I couldn’t tell if that was her actual height or if she was wearing heels. She was petite up top, but when I cast my eyes down the length of her body, I caught the flare of her hips. They were outlined by the denim jeans she had on.

Lifting my gaze, I peered at her perfectly plump lips moving a mile a minute. I couldn’t fully comprehend the words coming out of said lips because I was too fucking distracted by the image they made.

An inch above those lips, I caught sight of the gold septum piercing. It intrigued me. But what captivated my full attention and drew me even closer was catching sight of this woman’s completely bald, perfectly shaped head. Maybe not completely bare, but very close to it. She had less than a quarter-inch of hair on her head. She wore it that way on purpose.

I didn’t know too many women with the confidence to pull off such a look. And pull it off she did. Very well.  

I couldn’t not watch her. Even as she continued to ream out Leona, I found myself so utterly intrigued that I remained at a loss for something to say for an unacceptable amount of time. I rarely found myself at a loss for words. Shit, I may not always utter them, but I had the words for any situation.

It wasn’t until my gaze dropped to stare at the black T-shirt she wore with the words ‘Woman Up’ emblazoned across the front, that I stepped forward.

Coming even with Leona’s desk, I folded my arms across my chest, staring down at the woman before me and questioned, “What the hell are you screaming at my office manager about?”

Her eyes widened as she glared up at me, and that was when I noticed her eyes weren’t brown. They were a dark hazel that only appeared brown from a distance.

Interesting.

“You,” she pushed free through her teeth.

I lifted my eyebrows, both thrilled to have her attention on me and curious as to what the hell I’d done to piss her off. Not that I wouldn’t have done whatever it was again. I likely would if it meant she would be here in this same position, staring at me like this.

“You’re the one who said my case wasn’t worth it. How dare you?” she lambasted, pointing her finger in my direction. “How dare you say my grandfather isn’t worth the trouble of taking my case. The least you could’ve done is pointed me in a different direction. But to say he isn’t worth it?” Her voice level rose with every sentence.

Completely unaware of what she was referring to, I peered down at Leona with a questioning expression.

“Ms. Taylor was the woman on the line not too long ago who called in about her grandfather and the missing teen girl.”

I continued to stare at Leona, still not understanding how the hell two and two equaled four.

“Ms. Taylor heard you say she’s not worth the trouble, and she believed you were referring to her case.”

I nodded and directed my attention to the angry woman before me. Looking her directly in the eye, I said, “So, Ms. Taylor, you mistakenly presumed that I was referring to your case, more specifically, your grandfather, when I said it wasn’t worth it.”

Her lips pressed together, and for a heartbeat, she looked contrite, as if just realizing she’d fucked up. However, this woman was not going to let a small mix-up on her part get in the way of making her point.

“That is what you said. That it wasn’t worth it, correct?”

“I did, except I wasn’t referring to you or your suspected case at all.”

She nodded slightly and pushed out a breath. “Well, then, I’m sorry.” Her eyes darted to Leona. “Please excuse my rudeness.”

Leona made a noise at the back of her throat. “Not a problem, but as I told you when you first walked in, we don’t take cases such as yours.”  

“Come to my office,” I insisted. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Leona glance up at me from her chair. I kept my rapt attention on the woman, almost as if I didn’t have the option of looking away.

Her perfectly arched eyebrows lifted, and she narrowed her eyes for a moment. Our gazes locked, and something warm and smooth moved through my entire body. More revitalizing than my first sip of coffee in the morning. Better than the adrenaline rush I got after completing a grueling run in the hills around my home.

She was the first one to break eye contact, letting her gaze fall to my side. “He doesn’t have a leash?”

Reluctantly, I averted my gaze from hers and looked down at my side to notice Hound sitting on his hind legs, staring up at the woman, his interest piqued. I’d venture to say he watched her in much the same way I did.

“He doesn’t bite.”

“If he has teeth, he bites,” she quickly retorted, warily eyeing Hound.

Unwittingly, I spread my lips into a smirk. “He won’t bite anything unless I tell him to.”

She eyed me curiously again.

Turning, I started for my office. “Follow me, Ms. Taylor.”

Remember Me – Coming Monday April 6th. (Website Exclusive)

The Genovese Family is back! Remember Me will focus on twins Lorenzo and Matteo, along with the rest of the Genovese family to find out how they all fared after the yacht explosion the night of Belle and Christian’s wedding. There will be NO cliffhangers (I promise). **This book will be available ONLY on TiffanyPattersonWrites.com, NOT on Amazon**

Lorenzo 

Even as she lies in a coma in the hospital bed, I’m drawn to her. Can’t keep my eyes off of her for too long. While my twin refuses to admit it, he can’t either. Unfortunately, when she finally wakes up it’s with no memory of who she is or how she ended up on the yacht the night of my cousin’s wedding. My instinct directs me to believe that frightened, lost look in her eyes. But can I risk the lives of my family members? 

Matteo

My twin is foolish. He believes in love and all that nonsense, just like our father. He too, was a smart man but ended up dying of a broken heart when he lost the woman he loved most in this world. I have to keep Lorenzo from making the same mistake. It’s what I’ve been trying to do our entire lives, especially now that we’re caught up in this war between two powerful families. We’re fighting for our lives and for the lives of everyone we love. I’ve prepared for this my entire life. The only problem is, I too, can’t stop thinking about the woman from the hospital. The one who’s first name is the only thing we know about her, but somehow she ended up on our family’s yacht, injured. 

Sierra

Their voices are what pulled me out of my slumber. I awakened only to learn that I have no memory of who I am or how I came to be in the hospital. The only thing I know is that I’m scared and alone, until I see the faces of the voices that kept me company while I slept. Their golden eyes are mesmerizing, the danger that ripples off of them is appealing, but it’s the way we’re drawn to each other like moths to a flame that I can’t get enough of. I may not know who I am or where I came from but I know that Matteo and Lorenzo are my destiny. 

How I Successfully Work From Home

Hello All,

I hope everyone is doing well especially considering what’s happening in the world right now. Given that many more people are going to be working from home for the foreseeable future, I thought I’d share some tips on how I’ve successfully worked from home for the past almost three years. These are just guidelines/tips that work for me. Feel free to take or leave what you like. I hope this helps some of you who are forced to find a new normal in this current climate. Here goes …

Tip #1:

ROUTINES, ROUTINES, ROUTINES!

I cannot stress the importance of finding and developing a daily routine that works for you. For some, working from home can seem like a vacation or a “day off.” It’s not. Work still needs to get done. My routine consists of me getting up at the same time every day (Monday through Friday), eating breakfast at the same time every day, starting work at the same time, Lunch, etc. Just as you would if you were going to an office each day, you show up to your home office (I’ll get to that next) at the same time each day, begin working at the same time, and end at the same time. Do not try to sneak in an extra hour or two of sleep and just say you’ll push work back another hour at the end of the day. When I’ve done that, I’ve found myself less motivated to get that additional hour in at the end of the day. Routines are important to helping me strategize the time I have to work with on any given day.

Tip #2:

WORKSPACE

Have a dedicated work space that is used only for work purposes. Obviously, if you’re new to working from home, you may not have an office or the room to set up an entire office to work. However, can you clear off space of your dining room table to set up your laptop to complete work? Can you transform your bedroom vanity area into a work space? I have a work desk where my laptop sits that also holds things like my planner, thesaurus, dictionary, and other items I frequently reach for while writing. Now, I won’t lie, there are days when I’m not feeling well, that I’ll grab my laptop and write while in bed. Those days, however, are far and few in between, because I am just less productive when writing from bed. I’d rather be lounging or sleeping if I’m in bed, so I keep it to a minimum. Make sure, you find a comfortable yet appropriate work space that will allow you to be productive during the time you’ve designated to get work done.

Tip #3:

CREATE A TO DO LIST/HAVE A GOAL FOR EACH DAY

As an author, most days my goal is simple: to hit my word count for that day. On certain days of the week, I have different word count goals than on other days. But each morning one of the first things I do when I sit down at my desk is to take out my planner, look at my current work in progress (WIP), and write how many words should be in my WIP by the time I’m finished for that day. For me, having a tangible thing like a word count to hit by the end of the day allows me to see the actual progress I’ve made. Also, at the end of each working day, I’ll write down in my planner what I want to achieve for the next day. So, if I want to write 7,000 words I’ll write that down. Send emails to a few people? I’ll write that on the list of to-dos for the following day. Need to do some research for an upcoming project or find images for a book cover? All of that will be written in my planner, so that when I look at it the next morning, I know what I need to do that day.

Tip #4

TAKE BREAKS!

This one is important– just as important as the three I mentioned above. We are not machines. We are people with real brains and bodies that actually benefit when we get up from the desk and stretch out our muscles, move around a bit, drink some water, etc. There have been many time when I’ve come to a place in my WIP where I don’t know what to write next. Often, when that happens, I’ll get up from my desk, walk around my living room a bit, stretch, maybe even do a few dishes that are in the sink, and once I come back to my laptop, I’ve got an idea on where to go next with the story. Don’t get lost in thinking you absolutely have to fill each minute of the day with being productive. If you need to, go outside for a 15 minute walk, pause to play with your kids (if they’re home from school), do a short yoga video, just something to get your body moving and your mind off of work for at least a few minutes.

Tip #5

EAT!

This kind of goes along with the notion of taking breaks. Feeding yourself is important. I will often realize that one of the reasons I’m having trouble concentrating on the scene I’m trying to write or the emails I need to send, or whatever, is because I’m hungry. My body needs sustenance. It’s not a mistake that once I’ve eaten, my focus increases ten fold. With that being said, I start my day with a breakfast and halfway during the work day, I pause work to eat lunch. Also, I don’t write while eating. My lunches are typically no longer than 20 to 30 minutes, but during that time I not only fill up on nutrition, my mind has had a chance to relax and concentrate on something else, which makes it better able to focus once I get back to writing.

Tip #6

LEAVE WORK AT WORK.

Remember that designated working space that you’ve set up? Leave ALL your work right there. I promise you it will be there the next day when you get back to your desk/office/dining room table, etc. This is why having a dedicated work space is so important, once you move from that area, it allows you to mentally remind yourself that, you’re “leaving work” for the day. As an author who LOVES her career, I sometimes found it hard to separate working from just being at home. However, once I learned to set goals for the day and then be able to walk away once I hit those objectives, I found I was much more relaxed and ready to go the next day when it was time to start working again. Also, I rarely write/work on weekends. That is my time to spend with friends, family, get outdoors or just watch mindless TV. Whatever I enjoy. With that, I find myself excited on Sunday afternoons and evenings to be able to wake up the following day (Monday) and dive back into my writing. Even when you love and are passionate about your career, it’s important to find work-life balance.

Okay, those are my six tips on how to productively and successfully work from home. I hope you find them helpful, and again, I wish you all peace of mind, health, and well-being during this time.

No Coincidence – Coming Soon

Hello All,

You should know by now that when I’ve been silent, it’s because I’ve been working. My next release, No Coincidence, will feature two people you’ve met already, Connor (first appeared in Meant to Be) and Resha (first appeared in For Keeps). These two have been so fun to write. They’ve been bickering in my head for over a year now, so getting their story on paper has been a huge release. Anyway, here’s a sneak peek of what’s to come. I don’t have a release date just yet but they’re coming VERY soon! Enjoy!

****UNEDITED. SUBJECT TO CHANGE*****

Connor

Well this turned out to be an interesting turn of
events. I thought as I watched her ass sway from one side to the other in the
dark denim jeans she was wearing. I didn’t even bother hiding my ogling of her
backside. I’d barely spoken a full sentence to her since I’d arrived but it was
time to change that.

“Save a slice of
cake for me, will ya’,” I told Josh without even looking before moving in the
same direction as that ass.

“Don’t tell me …”
he mumbled.

“Then I won’t,” I
retorted before exiting his presence.

I’d been to
Josh’s house before so I didn’t need any directions on how to find the
bathroom, assuming, of course that’s where Resha went. I was right on the money
when after only walking halfway down the long hall, I see none other than Resha
exiting the bathroom door.

“Imagine running
into you here, Pilar,” my words
somehow came out on a growl.

Stunned, those
dark, coffee eyes of hers widened and the full heart-shaped lips pinched before
she spoke.

“Or is it Resha?”
I questioned while folding my arms over my wide chest. I couldn’t stop myself
from looking over her. Her skin held the deep cinnamon color that I remembered
from our night together, however her oval face was bracketed by dark brown
curls that were blonde at the tips. That night, her hair had been styled in a
short, jet black bob that hadn’t even touched her shoulders. Naturally, I let
my eyes dip lower to the leopard print sweater that silhouetted her ample
breasts and stopped at the small waist. The jeans looked as if they were
clinging for dear life as the hugged those bountiful thighs of hers.

“It’s both
actually,” she finally answered with her chin lifted as if she’d one upped me
somehow.

I approached,
stepping closer, lifting an eyebrow, daring her to elaborate.

“My middle name
is Pilar. My first name is Resha.”

I dropped my arms
and nodded understanding. She hadn’t lied that night, not completely, when
she’d told me her name was Pilar.

“And what are you
doing here, Resha.” Nope, I didn’t miss the way the vein in her neck doubled in
speed at my mentioning her name for the first time.

She took a step
backwards only to be met by the closed door she’d just exited.

“Destiny is my
cousin, not that it’s any of your
business.”

“If it wasn’t my
business you wouldn’t have answered me.”

Her eyes narrowed
and I instantly recalled it was the same look she’d given me that night after
I’d told her I was going to fuck her to sleep. Defiance. And I felt my body
react to it the same way in which I was reacting that moment. Sheer
determination.

“And what are you doing here, Connor?” She folded her
arms over her breasts.

My eyes dipped
before returning to meet her gaze again. “A good friend of mine invited me to
his kid’s birthday party.” I added a one-sided shoulder shrug.

“You don’t seem
like the type to make it a habit of attending kid’s parties. Or have many
friends.”

I stepped even
closer, crowding her space. “I’m pretty certain that was supposed to be some
sort of insult on your part, but I don’t insult easily. How long you been
celibate?”

She gasped and it
pulled a chuckle from my lips. I had to keep going.

“Was that vow of
celibacy taken before or after I fucked you to sleep in my hotel room?”

Another gasp. Her
eyes were so large they looked as if they were ready to pop out of her head.

“What the–” she
stopped and didn’t say anything further before using one hand to push at my
shoulder, as she made her way around me and charged down the hallway.

Again, I watched
the sway of her ass in those jeans. And try as she might to come across as
genuinely offended, I spotted the quickening of her pulse and the way her
bottom lip quivered ever so slightly.

“Resha Pilar …” I
murmured, wondering what her last name was. Of course, I had my ways of finding
out. I made a mental note to do just that as soon as I had the time.

Bella

Hello,

I’ve been silent recently because I’ve been working on my next release, which is coming VERY soon. If you’ve read Locked Doors (and you definitely should have. If not, click here.) then you’re familiar with Emilio’s younger brother, Christian and his interesting family background. Bella, will give more insight into who Christian is, how he even came to be, and most importantly, the woman he’s been in love with from afar for a long time. And just to whet your palettes a little, here’s a sneak peek from the couple. Enjoy!

****UNEDITED. SUBJECT TO CHANGE****

The first night …

Belle

“Oh my goodness!
I can’t believe it’s almost four in the morning,” I whisper as we make our way
down the hallway to my dorm room.

It’s been hours
since I got into the back of Christian’s town car, leaving my father’s soiree
and thoughts of animal cruelty by the aquarium far behind.

Anywhere you want, Bella.  

My heartbeat
kicked up a notch but I silently urged it to slow down. I wouldn’t tell him
again that my name was Belle and not Bella.
I’m pretty sure I’d made it clear, which only meant one thing. He was
deliberately calling me beautiful all night. I only knew a few words in Italian
and that was one of them.

“Is this the
latest you’ve been out?” He questions low next to my ear, his arm wrapped
around my waist.

I shiver at the
feeling of his warm breath on my neck before nodding because words escape me
right now.

His chuckle is
deep but not mocking. He’s not laughing at me, I don’t think.

“Bene.”

“That means good,
right?”

“Si.”

I dip my head and
smile because he’s been inserting Italian into our conversations throughout the
night. First, by calling me bella. Then when we made our way to the all-night
movie drive-in, that I was certain he’d scoff at when I told him I’d want to
attend, he would repeat some of the lines in Italian. Translating the famous here’s looking at you, kid in his native
tongue for me, from my all-time favorite film, Casablanca.

And that was
before he took me to an exclusive, genuine Italian restaurant, almost an hour outside
of the city. I was stunned to find out the restaurant was open all night. But I
think that was a lie. It was open for Christian
all night, not regular patrons. He’d ordered in Italian, teaching me how to
say my meal in the language it was meant to be said in.

“This is your
room,” he says as we stop in front of room 348.

It doesn’t occur
to me to ask how he knows this is my dorm room since I hadn’t said it, and I’m
pretty sure he’s never been here before. Least of all, with me. 

I turn to
Christian, a heaviness settling over my chest at the realization that our
evening has come to an end. I start to feel a little like what Cinderella
must’ve felt at the stroke of midnight, but I don’t know why. Something tells me
that whatever this night was, it is the last of it.

Christian’s eyes
are cast downward but when he peers up to look directly at me, they are dark.
Darker than I’ve ever seen them before.

“You will do well
in veterinary school, Bella.”

I want to thank
him but his words feel like too much of a goodbye and that absolutely shatters
my heart.

“Maybe we can go
to the movies again, sometime?” I question, holding out for a little bit of
hope.

His lips pinch
just before he shakes his head. “I will be leaving school soon. Finishing my
courses from afar. I must return to Palermo for some time.”

And just before
the heaviness overtakes the entirety of my body, crippling me, Christian’s lips
find mine.

There is no
hesitation on my part. This has been what my body has been craving ever since
he first wrapped his arm around me, preventing me from falling outside of the
aquarium.

What does
surprise me is the sound that comes from the back of my throat as his lips
moves over mine, his tongue invades my mouth and his hand moves to cup my
backside. My brain becomes too unfocused and thought no longer rules my
actions. Just feeling. Which is how the hold on my purse in my right hand
slackens, dropping it to the floor, so that same hand is now free to move
upwards until it reaches Christian’s hair. I sigh into his mouth because his
hair is softer than I’d ever imagined. His lips possess me in a way that I
never believed was even possible. And his hand on the back of my body,
squeezing, is causing little pulses between my legs. I don’t know how much
longer I’ll be able to stand on my own two feet.

And just when I
feel like my legs are going to give out, Christian releases me from the kiss.

I stumble
backwards, thankfully, saved by the door behind me, holding me upwards. I’m too
dizzy to manage on my own.

Christian doesn’t
say anything as he stares down at me. Instead he stoops low, picking up my
purse and handing it to me.

Slowly, I watch
as my hand reaches out, taking my clutch even though my fingers are trembling.

“Ti sto
guardando, ragazzo,” he says, tipping my chin and stepping back, giving me
space I’m sure I need but certain I don’t want.

Here’s looking at you, kid.

My eyes begin to
water and Christian wordlessly turns his back to me, heading back down the
hallway, disappearing around the corner without a backwards glance.

Jacob’s Song Now Available

Available on Amazon. Click here.

I’m broken.
I’m well aware of this singular fact of my life. Even as I stitch up patients, correcting their perceived imperfections, I know that there is no cosmetic surgery that will fix what’s broken inside of me. Which is why I don’t let anyone get too close. I learned early on, most people can’t be trusted. The ones who were entrusted with protecting you can do the most harm.

So I deal with life the only way I learned how. I fight. On the days when work gets to me, or the memories from my past become too much, I head to the Underground. A place where even a plastic surgeon such as myself, can let my guard down and give in to my base emotions. It works, for the most part.

But then in walks Grace.

She is the very embodiment of her name. A new nurse on the surgical unit. All bets are off. The sparks that fly between us don’t end once we exit the operating room. For the first time, I’m challenged to give in to the feelings I never believed myself capable, and all that comes with it, or push her away to save her from an ugly past I worked long and hard to forget.

Jacob’s Song Excerpt

Hello,

Remember the mysterious surgeon from Joshua Townsend’s underground fighting group? Well, his story has been in the works for some time and it’s coming SOON! Below is the cover for Jacob’s Song, along with a brief excerpt of what’s to come. Please enjoy this sneak peek into Jacob aka “Doc’s” book.

****Unedited. Subject to Change*****

Jacob

            “You hit like a fucking pussy!” I
derided the guy opposite me as we both circled one another inside the sixteen
by sixteen foot ring. Our fists were tightly coiled, and save for the cloth
wraps, around our knuckles and fingers there was little protection from the
blows we rained on one another. That was the appeal, for me, at least.

            “You’re fucking crazy, Doc!” Brick
yelled in response.

            The sardonic smile I’d already been
wearing, grew in size.

            “I know,” I growled before quickly
spinning and sweeping Brick’s leg. A round of cheers from the onlookers could
be heard behind me but I paid them no mind. I didn’t give a shit about the
people watching this fight between Brick and I. All I cared about was the pain.

            The pain of being hit so hard that
it took my breath away.

            Or the pain of landing the perfect
punch against an opponent’s bone, so that the sensation bounced back and moved
through my knuckles and up my arm, reaching my chest.

            It was only once I began feeling
that pain that the memories of the day began to fall away. It was only then
that I was truly able to relax, a little, at least.

            The physical pain was better than
the memories.

            Today, the memory that I couldn’t
shake loose had been what happened in the OR. I’d been performing a simple
breast lift on a patient. A second year resident joined me as part of his
training. My first instinct had been to kick him out of the wash room  when he entered with that stupid fucking,
cocky ass grin on his face. But I opted to let him stay. After all, Memorial is
one of the best teaching hospitals in the state. And despite going against my
first instincts, I let the resident assist in a delicate process during the
procedure. The dumb fucker ended up nicking one of the patient’s arteries.

            Thus, a surgery that should’ve been rather
simple and uncomplicated nearly turned deadly. All because I let a fucking
resident join in. That was my fuck up. And that is what brought me to the
Underground.

            “Aw fuck!” Brick grunted when a fist
of mine landed in his ribs.

            “Feeling a little fleshy, Brick.
Been eating good, huh?” I continued to taunt. It was a lie, however. Brick was
just as solid as his Underground name indicated. The man was built like a
goddamn brick wall. And whereas most guys with his size and build were rather
slow, that wasn’t the case with Brick. He’d obviously been working on his
agility. Which was why in the next second I found myself flat on my back,
flailing as his large six-foot-six nearly two-hundred-and-fifty-pound frame
came down on top of me.

            Thankfully, I’d been expecting one
of his infamous takedowns and hurriedly countered his move with one of my own.
I managed to wiggle out of his hold and get my legs to wrap around his upper
body. I could feel him struggling to get free from the inevitable but it was
too late. My legs were soon wrapped tightly around his neck, squeezing the air
from his body.

            He pounded with one fist against my leg
but the pain from his punches only invigorated me more. I knew I’d be covered
in bruises tomorrow from this fight but the deep satisfaction I got from the
pain was almost intoxicating.

            “Let him up!” I heard Buddy yell
from the side of the ring.

            That’s what forced me to release
Brick. When I did, I heard the gagging and coughing sounds as he fought inhale
normally again.

            “Shit!” Brick cursed once he finally
got back on his feet. “Anyone ever tell you, you fight like that fucker Luke
whatever the hell his name is, from the NFA?” Brick sputtered in between
breaths just after he tapped knuckles to signal the end of the fight.

            “I don’t watch the NFA. I don’t know
who the fuck that is,” I gruffly answered, quickly dismissing his comment and
turning to head out of the ring.

            “You look like him a little, too,”
Brick yelled behind me.

            I paused and turned back to him,
narrowing my eyes at him. I swore I caught something glinting in his eyes. As
if he wanted to say more but chose not to.

            I spun on my heels and headed for
the changing room. I moved through the throng of guys clamoring to pat my back
after a fight or angling to convince Buddy to let them in the ring for a fight
of their own.

            I didn’t stay to find out who was
entering the ring next. I’d gotten what I’d came here for. Relief.

            That was all I ever sought most
nights in this place that to the outside world looked like an abandoned
building. But to the men who gathered here two to three nights out of the week,
we knew it was more. It was a place where most of us chose to let our demons
out so we wouldn’t unleash them on the rest of the world.

            “Good fight, Reynolds,” I heard from
behind me as I redressed in the pair of dark jeans and t-shirt, I’d worn to the
Underground that night.

            I stood up to my full six-foot-two
height, which still caused me to be about three inches shorter than the man
standing opposite me.

            “Connor,” I nodded but didn’t bother
to reply to his initial comment. He never called me by my Underground name
which was Doc, for obvious reasons. Most of the men down here were
professionals with our own careers or businesses. But like I said, everyone
needed some sort of outlet to release the bullshit of the day.

            “You get what you needed?”

            I nodded while also throwing the strap
of my gym bag over my shoulder. “I always do,” I answered as I moved past
Connor and through the door of the changing room to take me out into the main
area again. I could feel Connor’s eyes on my back but he didn’t say anything
else. As the co-organizer of this underground fighting ring, he was sort of the
Godfather of the guys down here, I supposed. But not mine. I didn’t need a
fucking father figure or anyone else to oversee me.

            I exited the main door and hopped
into my dark colored Range Rover to make the twenty minute drive back to my
condo. However, once I arrived and pulled into my parking spot in the closed in
garage, I wasn’t ready to head upstairs just yet.

            I still had the energy from the
fight coursing through my veins and that did not make for a good night’s sleep.
Thus, instead of heading toward the elevator to the twelfth floor of my
building, I headed for the stairs that led to the open sidewalk. I continued to
walk aimlessly for a while. I ended up approximately ten blocks from where I
started, on a street that was lined with bars and a few restaurants that
converted to lounges this late in the evening.

            Most of the doors of the nightclubs
and bars were open, seeking to lure people inside. The giggles and cheers of
the patrons inside each of the bars turned my fucking stomach. I didn’t like
being in large groups of people. Hell, I didn’t like most people in general. So,
I opted to keep walking, with no intentions of stopping inside any of the
clubs. There was a bar at the end of this street that was usually pretty quiet.
Every time I’d been inside there had only been a handful of other patrons. I
wondered how they stayed open, but the beers were cold and that’s all I needed.

            Just as I was passing one of the
newer lounges on the street, my feet stopped moving. All on their own. I found
myself, turning to look inside the lounge. Of course, the lights were low,
making it difficult to fully see inside but the sound coming from the center
stage is what pulled me closer.

            Before I could tell what was
happening, I entered the lounge as if I was being pulled in. The smooth, soft
sound of the voice coming from the front of the room held the entire audience
captive. She wasn’t belting out the song but the way her vocal cords wrapped
around every single note, as if they were her own little playthings to dance
over, held all of our rapt attention. And I hadn’t even seen her face yet. Once
I did, it was as if I’d been punched in the gut.

            “Grace,” I whispered, saying her
name for the first time.

            She was no longer dressed in those
electric blue scrubs all the nurses wore. This Grace was dressed in a skintight,
black mini dress that stopped inches above her knee. The dress was sleeveless
and the lights on the stage perfectly reflected off the tawny brown skin of
hers. Those hickory eyes were enhanced by the dark eyeshadow she wore, and her
heart shaped lips were lined in a blood red color. This wasn’t Nurse Young on
stage.

            This was a woman singing on stage,
begging her lover not to judge her. Her voice was cooing in a way that wasn’t a
turnoff, which I didn’t understand how that was even possible. She swayed her
perfect hips in time with the music, slowly and hauntingly. The heels on her
feet gave an additional four inches to her five-foot-six height. I took every
inch of her body in. From the top of her head, noting the bouncy curls that
hung around her shoulders, to the smooth tops of her perfectly formed
shoulders, over her collarbones, down to her perfectly sized breasts that were
adequately outlined by the tight dress. The way her small waist gave way to her
hips reminded me of the images patients would often bring to my office asking
if I could make them look like this model or that one.

            This woman had a body my patients
paid thousands of dollars for. And I would bet dollars to donuts she hadn’t
spent any time on a surgeon’s table to earn it.

            Somehow, I found myself much closer
to the stage than I’d anticipated. Luckily, I was able to get ahold of myself
within seconds of her finishing the song. I backed away from the stage, not
wanting to take my eyes off of her until the very last moment. She didn’t see
me due to the fact that she was busy bowing and receiving hugs from some of the
band members on the stage. I took that opportunity to slip out the same door
that’d allowed me entrance.

            I shook my head as I turned and
reversed my steps to carry myself back to my home. I don’t know how long it
took to get back because I was too busy replaying every second of Grace’s
performance in my head. Whenever I came to the end, it was almost like I’d hit
the rewind button and replayed the tape all over again. I did that over and
over until I made it home, making it inside.

            I pressed my back against the door,
closing my eyes and again she was there, crooning her fucking heart out. She’d
kept me hypnotized so much so that the surgery from earlier, the Underground,
and everything else fell away. But she’d held my attention from the first
moment I laid eyes on her. It was the way she looked at me. She didn’t show
signs of fear that other women had. Even women who I’d dated in the past, had
tried to get me to open up to them, I refused because I could see the fear in
their eyes. They’d never say as much, but I saw it. The storm clouds I often
found staring me back in the mirror in my eyes, the emotions that sent me to
the Underground to fight, my off-putting demeanor, struck fear in them.

But not Grace.

            I found myself smirking as I
remembered the stubborn way, she lifted her chin at me in defiance. How she
mouthed back when I put her on the spot in the OR. She wasn’t afraid of me and
that pulled me to her just as much as her siren voice had pulled me to the
stage in that lounge.

            “Fucking pull it together,” I
growled at myself starting to feel pissed off. I’d taken a walk to work out the
energy from fighting only to return with a different type of energy moving
through me.

Locked Doors Coming Soon – Excerpt

Good morning,

If you’ve read Emanuel’s Heat by now you’ve been introduced to some members of the Genovese Family. Locked Doors, will be the first book in this series about this special family. And this will be my FIRST website exclusive series. Locked Doors will be coming VERY soon. As usual, I will be sending out the first chapter of the book the day before it releases via my newsletter. To sign up, click here. For now, here is a short excerpt from the book. Enjoy!

****Unedited. Subject to Change****

Emilio

“We have a
problem.” It’s Matteo. He is the one who has been sent to inform me of whatever
the issue at hand is.

Slowly, I pivot
my attention from the stage to my left, glaring at Matteo. “What kind of a
problem?”

“A witness
problem.”

I grit my teeth.
The stress that had just begun to seep out of my body returns in full force.

“I can handle it—”

My hand slices
through the air. “If you could’ve handled it you wouldn’t be here right now.” I
cut my eyes away from Matteo and return my gaze to the stage, pausing for a
moment. A half a minute later, I am up on my feet, following Matteo to where
this problem is now located.

He makes his way
down the long hall I just walked up not more than fifteen minutes prior,
passing through the first set of double doors, and holding the second set open
for me to walk through. Across the room I peer over at his twin brother,
Lorenzo, holding the exit door open.

Without a word I
pick up my stride, meeting Lorenzo before stepping outside into the night air.
There are two town cars parked in this back alleyway. Doing a quick appraisal
of the situation, I see my normal driver. I move toward the back of the first
town car and can see clearly thanks to the lights of the vehicles.

It’s her.

The woman from
the coffee shop.

Leo is holding
her from behind, his large hand covering her mouth. Her eyes are filled with
terror.

“So this is the
problem?”

“We don’t know
how she got in here. I could snap her neck right now,” Leo says in Italian.

I move closer,
glowering down at the woman.

“Move your hand,”
I order in my mother tongue.

His hand lowers.

The woman looks
around before licking her lips. My eyes follow the motion of her pink tongue as
it moves across her bottom lip.

“Pl-please, I-I
didn’t see anything. I won’t tell anyone. I-I’m supposed to b-be leaving
Palermo tomorrow,” she pleads.

Something in me
stirs. I hate begging and yet I want to hear more of her voice.

I let my eyes
graze the entirety of her body from head to toe before returning to her face.
The long, black dress doesn’t obscure the fullness of her frame. She’s tall in
the heels she’s wearing—only falling two inches shorter than my six-foot-three
height. Her skin is a tawny brown color, and the nervous way she keeps biting
her lip with fear still in her hazel eyes, pulls at something deep inside my
gut.

“D-Do you speak
English?” she questions. “I c-couldn’t even communicate with the p-police. I
w-won’t tell.”

She has just
sealed her fate and she doesn’t even realize it. Americans. They talk too
much.

“What is your
name?” I question in English.

Her eyelids rise
and she shakes her head.

“What. Is. Your. Name?”
I demand more forcefully.

“L-Lydia.”

The tremble in
her voice calls to me. I run my hand over the stubble along my lower jaw.

“Lydia,” I
repeat, savoring every syllable of her name.

I nod, and without
another word look over her shoulder to Leo. “Gag her and place her in the
backseat. We’re going to the compound.”

Removing a handkerchief from his pocket, Leo stuffs it into her mouth. She squirms and tries to scream but it is useless. I turn and head to the second town car while Leo, the woman, and Lorenzo pile into the first one. Matteo gets in on the reverse side, and a minute later we are pulling off, out of the alley, away from the theater, for the fifteen minute drive back to the compound.

Coming Soon!