Tory Richards's Blog, page 62
September 19, 2016
My Lord Ghost by Meredith Bond
Today, we are excited to announce the release of My Lord Ghost, book two of The Grace Sisters Trilogy. Sweet, warm and alluring, My Lord Ghost is the new romantic novel by award winning author Meredith Bond that promises to captivate your heart.Buy now! My Lord Ghost is available on sale at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo and Smashwords. Also, read on and find out how you can join My Lord Ghost Giveaway Contest and WIN!
About My Lord GhostSeries: The Grace Sisters Trilogy, Book 2Genre: Historical Romance, Regency RomanceShe only wanted to save his soul. He needed to save her life.Laia Grace wasn’t raised in society and besides, meeting men was so much fun! But when the naive Regency miss introduces herself to the wrong person, her father decides that it’s time she grew up. If only he knew that the house he was sending her to had a ghost in residence.Marcus is haunting his own home, living in the secret passages and priest holes while he tries to deal with the horrific events that led to his brother’s death. But when an angel shows up and coaxes him into telling her his story, he discovers a reason to live.Will he be willing to risk both his own life and his heart to save her?Grab your copy today! Available at: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | SmashwordsGiveawayJoin My Lord Ghost giveaway contest!
Get a chance to win A Dandy in Disguise eBook by Meredith Bond (Book One of the Grace Sisters Trilogy) and a $25 Amazon Gift Card!
Click here to join the Rafflecopter Giveaway contest!Other Books by Meredith BondBe sure not to miss Book One of The Grace Sisters Trilogy by Meredith Bond.
A Dandy in DisguiseThe Grace Sisters Trilogy, Book 1If you gamble with your future, you’re bound to lose. Rose doesn’t realize this when she puts her money down. She’s new to society, and mistakenly thinks everyone is who they claim.Fungy doesn’t know who he is anymore, but Rose makes him want to be the best he can be. But is he the best man for her? A turn of the cards might have the answer.Available now: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Smashwords | iTunes | Kobo | Google Play | All Romance eBooksAbout Meredith Bond
Meredith Bond's books straddle that beautiful line between historical romance and fantasy. An award-winning author, she writes fun traditional Regency romances, medieval Arthurian romances, and Regency romances with a touch of magic. Known for her characters “who slip readily into one’s heart”, Meredith’s paranormal romances include her Storm series set in during the English Regency, her post-Arthurian fantasy series, The Children of Avalon, and a series of traditional Regencies—without magic—called The Merry Men Quartet. Her newest series, The Grace Sisters, is a spin-off from The Merry Men Quartet. She has also written two non-fiction books: Chapter One: A Fast, Fun Way to Write Fiction and Self-Publishing: Easy as ABC.Want to know more? Come visit Meredith at her website, http://www.meredithbond.com/ or chat with her on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/meredithbondauthor/) or Twitter (@merrybond). If you’d like to be one of the first to know of Meredith’s new releases and get a free short story every month, join her email list here http://meredithbond.com/blog/newsletter-sign-up/Visit the Official Meredith Bond Website: http://www.meredithbond.comConnect with Meredith Bond on Social Media: Facebook, Twitter, Google+, Pinterest, LinkedIn, Goodreads, Tumblr- - - - -In partnership with
September 17, 2016
Last of my print books!
Interested in having a signed copy of one of my print books? I found five books left and I'm raffling them off. Details on the Extras tab.
September 16, 2016
Am I Wrong?
Someone, please tell me! I recently had a procedure in a facility where you go for a day. Insurance was supposed to cover so much for the facility and the doctor and I was to cover the co-pay, which I did before they took me into the back. When I left there I thought it was a done deal, but then soon began getting bills for this and that that wasn't covered by insurance. Maybe I'm wrong but in the old days didn't you pay one bill and everyone got paid from that? Now it seems everyone who even touches you sends their own separate bill.
September 15, 2016
In the Best Interest of the Child by Felicia Denise
I have an author friend who has a new book coming out this month and I could kick myself for missing her cover reveal! As you can see it's absolutely beautiful. Below is everything you need to know and I hope it peeks your interest enough into checking out her debut novel.
In the Best Interest of the ChildAuthor: Felicia Denise Cover: Jenn Cunningham Genre: Women's Fiction/PsychologicalRelease Date: September 17, 2016
Blurb -
Ten-year-old Olivia Chandler has a school she loves, good friends, a nice home, a talented mom, and a successful father she adores. Tragedy rips all of this away from her, and plunges Olivia into the foster care system, where for eight years she is neglected, humiliated, abused, and nearly raped.
Fate smiles on Olivia shortly before she ages out of the system, allowing her the means to attend college and law school.
Years later, Olivia is a successful child advocate attorney, giving a voice to children who are so easily ignored by those claiming to act in their best interest. She has little time for personal relationships, and her lifelong fear of abandonment reminds her never to get too close to anyone.
The successful attorney stumbles though when she’s assigned a case by the court that too closely mirrors her own haunted childhood. Olivia never gives her minor clients less than her all, and the only way she can help her eleven year old client is to face down and acknowledge her demons. This same case also brings a man into her life who sees her for who she truly is, and will not allow Olivia to push him away.
Meet the Author
An avid reader from a very early age, Felicia would re-write the stories she read, making the women a little bit tougher. Not to outdo the men, but raised by parents who taught their six daughters to always stand up for themselves, and to always “be a lady”, Felicia has very little patience with ‘crybabies’ – female or male. Introduced to creative writing in grade school, Felicia amused herself by creating stories, poems, and song lyrics…that she never showed to anyone.
Now embracing the concept of sharing, Felicia’s first published novel, In The Best Interest of the Child” debuts in September 2016.
Felicia left the harsh winters of Michigan and now resides in Arizona with her husband of more than thirty years, who’s always trying to read over her shoulder. Their three adult children are scattered around Arizona. She is looking forward to having grandchildren, but feels she may win the lottery first…or get struck by lightning. Though she enjoys a good rain storm, Felicia no longer goes outside when it rains. She’s not taking any chances.
Social Links
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorfeliciadenise
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MsFelicia
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/15130350-felicia-denise
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/fle_d/
Google +: https://plus.google.com/u/0/110467680823101573705/posts…
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/fdreevers
Excerpt
Olivia wasn’t sure how long she had been standing in the doorway to her office, lost in memories from so long ago. Willis Benson had been true to his word and kept her father’s estate intact. Because of Willis, she had this home…the home her daddy had built for his family. Willis’ dogged efforts had also made Olivia a wealthy woman. She still had issues with spending money on herself, and usually found a way to discreetly spend it on others in need.
She turned and glanced at the closed door across the hall. She walked over and touched the cool cherry wood. Her father’s office. While Livvie had made a concerted effort to redecorate the entire house after she graduated from law school, Ben’s office remained untouched. Everything was nearly exactly the way he left it the morning before the accident.
Livvie only entered the room once or twice a year to dust or…during a thunderstorm. Terrified of storms as a child, Ben first tried to console Livvie with the explanation that thunder was just the angels bowling, but his baby girl was entirely too sharp for that. Talk soon turned to cumulonimbus clouds, gusty winds, heavy rain and sometimes hail. Whether she was calmed by science, or simply just being with him, Livvie never figured out. But now, all these years later, she could feel his presence closest when she curled up in his favorite chair and watched the rain dance across the window.
She lovingly ran her hand over the headrest of the chair. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and was sure she could still smell hints of his aftershave, woodsy and pine with just a hint of citrus.
Daddy.
Livvie sat down in the chair and covered her face with her hands. Why couldn’t she just be normal? She had a life Ben would approve of. Well, she had a profession he would approve of since she followed in his footsteps. But she didn’t have a life. She didn’t have friends over for gourmet dinners and game night. She rarely visited anyone’s home when invited, always begging off because of a work overload. Once or twice a month…at Margo’s pleadings, Olivia would stop into Overruled, the local watering hole frequented by the courthouse crowd. She would have her usual one glass of Sweet Red, while fending off advances, propositions and quick feel ups by an assortment of tipsy attorneys, judges and clerks. She never took offense, nor did she take any of them seriously…which of course, Margo said was her problem.
“Olivia, if you don’t even open up your mind to the possibilities, how will you ever make a connection or find The One?”
“Oh Margo, please! We’re talking about Happy Hour with the same circle of people we work with. I fail to see how someone I want to run over with my car at 10:30 in the morning can become the one I want to spend the rest of my life with at 6:30 in the evening.”
“That’s because at 6:30 in the evening, alcohol is involved. Um…wait. With some of these guys, alcohol is involved at 10:30 in the morning too!”
Olivia allowed herself to smile remembering one of countless conversations with her dauntless assistant.
She glanced around the room and her eyes fell on the cherry oak book case next to the desk. Moving before she realized it, Olivia was out of the chair and heading for the book case. She knelt before it and open the doors below the shelves. Olivia pulled the large black photo album out and ran her fingers over it, almost reverently. Sitting down on the floor, she slowly opened the front cover. The first photo was of her parents on their wedding day. ‘Benjamin Foster Chandler and Sarina Lenora Baker, united in marriage, November 3, 1966.’ They looked so happy. Her father seemed to radiate male pride, his arm curled around the waist of his new, beautiful wife. Olivia had seen this photo hundreds of times over the years, but for the first time, she really looked at her mother. Her joy was obvious, but there was a look in Sarina’s eyes that Olivia had never noticed before. Frowning, she tried to define it and could only come up with…relief. Resting her chin on her hand, Olivia’s mind raced as she wondered why her mother would be relieved on her wedding day. Maybe nervous jitters, all the pre-wedding preparations and endless to-do lists. That had to be it.
Turning more pages in the album, Olivia saw photo after photo of her parents celebrating each wedding anniversary, always smiling…always hopeful. She knew what was coming after the ninth wedding anniversary photo. Olivia broke into a wide grin while she stared at the page. ‘Olivia Louise Chandler, born June 22, 1976, 3:14 AM, 6 pounds, 0 ounces, 22 inches long, Parents – Benjamin F. Chandler & Sarina B. Chandler.’ Even as a newborn, the features she received from each of her parents stood out. She had her mother’s light brown eyes with flecks of gold and dark brown with her dad’s thick, bushy eyebrows. Her high ‘chipmunk’ cheekbones screamed Sarina Chandler just as her thick full lips said Benjamin Chandler. Olivia wondered what they saw when they looked at her. Had they seen themselves? Had they seen the future? Were they looking forward to school dances, graduations and grandchildren? Slamming the album shut, Olivia returned it to the shelf and quickly stood. She had been cheated. Her parents had been cheated. Her daddy always told her that life was not fair…he told her a lot of things. It was as though he knew he wouldn’t be there for her.
Giving herself a mental shake, Olivia walked to the office door, but turned to glance around the office. I wish I knew what I’m supposed to do. Raising her eyes heavenward, she smiled. “Sure could use a bit of your wisdom now, daddy.”
Pulling the door closed, she padded across the hall to her office and settled in for a long evening of work.
In the Best Interest of the ChildAuthor: Felicia Denise Cover: Jenn Cunningham Genre: Women's Fiction/PsychologicalRelease Date: September 17, 2016
Blurb -
Ten-year-old Olivia Chandler has a school she loves, good friends, a nice home, a talented mom, and a successful father she adores. Tragedy rips all of this away from her, and plunges Olivia into the foster care system, where for eight years she is neglected, humiliated, abused, and nearly raped.
Fate smiles on Olivia shortly before she ages out of the system, allowing her the means to attend college and law school.
Years later, Olivia is a successful child advocate attorney, giving a voice to children who are so easily ignored by those claiming to act in their best interest. She has little time for personal relationships, and her lifelong fear of abandonment reminds her never to get too close to anyone.
The successful attorney stumbles though when she’s assigned a case by the court that too closely mirrors her own haunted childhood. Olivia never gives her minor clients less than her all, and the only way she can help her eleven year old client is to face down and acknowledge her demons. This same case also brings a man into her life who sees her for who she truly is, and will not allow Olivia to push him away.
Meet the Author
An avid reader from a very early age, Felicia would re-write the stories she read, making the women a little bit tougher. Not to outdo the men, but raised by parents who taught their six daughters to always stand up for themselves, and to always “be a lady”, Felicia has very little patience with ‘crybabies’ – female or male. Introduced to creative writing in grade school, Felicia amused herself by creating stories, poems, and song lyrics…that she never showed to anyone.
Now embracing the concept of sharing, Felicia’s first published novel, In The Best Interest of the Child” debuts in September 2016.
Felicia left the harsh winters of Michigan and now resides in Arizona with her husband of more than thirty years, who’s always trying to read over her shoulder. Their three adult children are scattered around Arizona. She is looking forward to having grandchildren, but feels she may win the lottery first…or get struck by lightning. Though she enjoys a good rain storm, Felicia no longer goes outside when it rains. She’s not taking any chances.
Social Links
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorfeliciadenise
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MsFelicia
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/15130350-felicia-denise
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/fle_d/
Google +: https://plus.google.com/u/0/110467680823101573705/posts…
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/fdreevers
Excerpt
Olivia wasn’t sure how long she had been standing in the doorway to her office, lost in memories from so long ago. Willis Benson had been true to his word and kept her father’s estate intact. Because of Willis, she had this home…the home her daddy had built for his family. Willis’ dogged efforts had also made Olivia a wealthy woman. She still had issues with spending money on herself, and usually found a way to discreetly spend it on others in need.
She turned and glanced at the closed door across the hall. She walked over and touched the cool cherry wood. Her father’s office. While Livvie had made a concerted effort to redecorate the entire house after she graduated from law school, Ben’s office remained untouched. Everything was nearly exactly the way he left it the morning before the accident.
Livvie only entered the room once or twice a year to dust or…during a thunderstorm. Terrified of storms as a child, Ben first tried to console Livvie with the explanation that thunder was just the angels bowling, but his baby girl was entirely too sharp for that. Talk soon turned to cumulonimbus clouds, gusty winds, heavy rain and sometimes hail. Whether she was calmed by science, or simply just being with him, Livvie never figured out. But now, all these years later, she could feel his presence closest when she curled up in his favorite chair and watched the rain dance across the window.
She lovingly ran her hand over the headrest of the chair. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and was sure she could still smell hints of his aftershave, woodsy and pine with just a hint of citrus.
Daddy.
Livvie sat down in the chair and covered her face with her hands. Why couldn’t she just be normal? She had a life Ben would approve of. Well, she had a profession he would approve of since she followed in his footsteps. But she didn’t have a life. She didn’t have friends over for gourmet dinners and game night. She rarely visited anyone’s home when invited, always begging off because of a work overload. Once or twice a month…at Margo’s pleadings, Olivia would stop into Overruled, the local watering hole frequented by the courthouse crowd. She would have her usual one glass of Sweet Red, while fending off advances, propositions and quick feel ups by an assortment of tipsy attorneys, judges and clerks. She never took offense, nor did she take any of them seriously…which of course, Margo said was her problem.
“Olivia, if you don’t even open up your mind to the possibilities, how will you ever make a connection or find The One?”
“Oh Margo, please! We’re talking about Happy Hour with the same circle of people we work with. I fail to see how someone I want to run over with my car at 10:30 in the morning can become the one I want to spend the rest of my life with at 6:30 in the evening.”
“That’s because at 6:30 in the evening, alcohol is involved. Um…wait. With some of these guys, alcohol is involved at 10:30 in the morning too!”
Olivia allowed herself to smile remembering one of countless conversations with her dauntless assistant.
She glanced around the room and her eyes fell on the cherry oak book case next to the desk. Moving before she realized it, Olivia was out of the chair and heading for the book case. She knelt before it and open the doors below the shelves. Olivia pulled the large black photo album out and ran her fingers over it, almost reverently. Sitting down on the floor, she slowly opened the front cover. The first photo was of her parents on their wedding day. ‘Benjamin Foster Chandler and Sarina Lenora Baker, united in marriage, November 3, 1966.’ They looked so happy. Her father seemed to radiate male pride, his arm curled around the waist of his new, beautiful wife. Olivia had seen this photo hundreds of times over the years, but for the first time, she really looked at her mother. Her joy was obvious, but there was a look in Sarina’s eyes that Olivia had never noticed before. Frowning, she tried to define it and could only come up with…relief. Resting her chin on her hand, Olivia’s mind raced as she wondered why her mother would be relieved on her wedding day. Maybe nervous jitters, all the pre-wedding preparations and endless to-do lists. That had to be it.
Turning more pages in the album, Olivia saw photo after photo of her parents celebrating each wedding anniversary, always smiling…always hopeful. She knew what was coming after the ninth wedding anniversary photo. Olivia broke into a wide grin while she stared at the page. ‘Olivia Louise Chandler, born June 22, 1976, 3:14 AM, 6 pounds, 0 ounces, 22 inches long, Parents – Benjamin F. Chandler & Sarina B. Chandler.’ Even as a newborn, the features she received from each of her parents stood out. She had her mother’s light brown eyes with flecks of gold and dark brown with her dad’s thick, bushy eyebrows. Her high ‘chipmunk’ cheekbones screamed Sarina Chandler just as her thick full lips said Benjamin Chandler. Olivia wondered what they saw when they looked at her. Had they seen themselves? Had they seen the future? Were they looking forward to school dances, graduations and grandchildren? Slamming the album shut, Olivia returned it to the shelf and quickly stood. She had been cheated. Her parents had been cheated. Her daddy always told her that life was not fair…he told her a lot of things. It was as though he knew he wouldn’t be there for her.
Giving herself a mental shake, Olivia walked to the office door, but turned to glance around the office. I wish I knew what I’m supposed to do. Raising her eyes heavenward, she smiled. “Sure could use a bit of your wisdom now, daddy.”
Pulling the door closed, she padded across the hall to her office and settled in for a long evening of work.
Material Witness by Lisa Mondello
Special 99 Cents Promotion!MATERIAL WITNESS, the thrilling, action-packed romantic suspense novel from New York Times Bestselling Author Lisa Mondello, is now on sale for 99 cents only (Regular price: $4.99)! Acclaimed by Kirkus Reviews as the one of the Best Indie Books of 2012, Material Witness will keep you on the edge of your seats from cover to cover.Hurry, grab your copy today. This offer is available until September 18 only.Available at:
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play
About Material WitnessSeries: Heroes of Providence, Book 1Genre: Romantic Suspense Who does she trust when the horror of one of her crime novels turns into a deadly reality?Bestselling crime novelist, Cassie Alvarez, aka Cassie Lang, had murder on her mind when she walked into Rory's Bar under dressed and under cover to research her latest crime novel. Researching the cool, blue-eyed and dashingly handsome man at the end of the bar stirred her senses more than she wanted to admit. But was this man of leather armor all he appeared to be? Playing White Knight to an innocent wasn't how Detective Jake Santos planned to spend his time under cover. But there was no way "CJ" was what she claimed to be and that nagging tightness in Jake's chest told him he'd better take her home to safety and leave it at that. Then the barroom exploded with gunfire, leaving a trail of dead that includes a notorious Providence organized crime boss and an undercover FBI agent. When Cassie’s name is leaked to the media as the only witness to the grisly murders, Cassie insists she only trusts Jake to protect her. The FBI wants their star witness happy and will do anything to make sure Cassie testifies. But someone wants vigilante justice and it is clear to Jake that the shooter isn’t the only person who wants Cassie dead. Not knowing who to trust, he vows to protect Cassie at all cost despite the fact that guarding the beautiful novelist is a serious distraction.- - - - -
“Mondello's latest, a pulse-pounding, pitch-perfect addition to the romantic-suspense genre...the nimble tone that shifts from breezy to thrilling and back again with masterful precision. … Terrific escapist entertainment, as good as anything in Janet Evanovich's oeuvre.”- Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
- - - - -Buy now for 99 cents only (Regular price: $4.99)! Offer ends September 18!Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google PlayOther Books by Lisa MondelloAlso, don't miss the next book in the Heroes of Providence series by Lisa Mondello.
SAFE HAVENHeroes of Providence, Book 2Learning her ex hired a hitman to kill her terrified Daria Carlisle. But Detective Kevin Gordon's request that she flee the only home she'd ever known was insane. She wasn't leaving. Kevin has no choice but to protect her. But can Kevin spend 24/7 sleeping on her doorstep just to keep her alive without risking his heart to love?Buy now at Amazon.com.About Lisa MondelloNew York Times and USA TODAY Bestselling Author, Lisa Mondello, has held many jobs in her life but being a published author is the last job she'll ever have. She's not retiring! She blames the creation of the personal computer for her leap into writing novels. Otherwise, she'd still be penning stories with paper and pen. Her book The Knight and Maggie's Baby is a New York Times Bestseller. Her popular series includes TEXAS HEARTS, DAKOTA HEARTS, Fate with a Helping Hand and the new SUMMER HOUSE series. Writing as LA Mondello, her romantic suspense, MATERIAL WITNESS, book 1 of her Heroes of Providence series made the USA TODAY Bestsellers List and was named one of Kirkus Reviews Best Books of 2012. You can find more information about Lisa Mondello at http://lisamondello.blogspot.com and sign up for her newsletter to receive new release information at http://eepurl.com/xhxO5. Visit the Official Lisa Mondello Website: http://www.lisamondello.comConnect with Lisa Mondello on Social Media: Facebook, Twitter- - - - -In partnership with
September 13, 2016
End Of Summer Bash at The Romance Studio's
Go
here
to read hot excerpts, find new authors, all while having a chance to win some fabulous giveaways! Including the grand prize of a $100 Amazon GC!!!
Newsletter Subscribers
Don't forget to enter the monthly rafflecopter. All you have to do is locate it and enter. A winner will be chosen on the 14th and announced in my newsletter on the 15th.
September 12, 2016
September 10, 2016
It's hard to believe that tomorrow will mark ...
It's hard to believe that tomorrow will mark 15 years since the towers fell. I have a picture of me on the Staten Island ferry with the towers in the background. Too many lives lost and destroyed because of hate.Some of you know that I was on a plane the morning of the attack. We were in Kansas and about to take off when the announcement came that one of the towers had collapsed. The plane turned around and everyone had to get off. Never made our destination but we were alive and glued to the airport TVs watching the news like the rest of the world, in shock, disbelief and sadness. Didn't even have a cell phone but a nice man let me borrow his. My daughter was the first one I called because I had to hear her voice, and I'm sure she was feeling the same way, knowing that Earl and I were on a plane.
Fifteen years, and it still hurts so much.
September 8, 2016
The Tutor by KD Grace
Pre-Order Blitz and Giveaway for THE TUTOR
By K D Grace
Mini Blog: Inspired by a Can of Pears
Inspiration comes in the strangest forms. The Tutor was actually inspired by a can of pears in heavy syrup – thanks to my friend and fabulous writer, Kay Jaybee. At a workshop she was teaching for Smut Manchester last year, Kay handed me a writing prompt on slip of paper. I still remember the smug little smile on her face You guessed it. My prompt was a can of pears in heavy syrup, which my character was to pick up in a grocery story just before being called to the storeroom of said store over the loudspeaker for some unknown reason. From pears in heavy syrup to an outrageously sexy haphephobic sculptor, and the woman he longs to touch but can’t – it might seem like quite a stretch, but inspiration is like that, isn’t it?
Giveaway: To promote pre-orders for The Tutor, I’m giving away a $30/£20 Amazon gift voucher. Enter via the Rafflecopter for a chance to win! Pre-order your copy of The Tutor for a chance to make the author VERY happy. J
Pre-order Links:
Totally Bound Publishing: https://www.totallybound.com/book/the-tutor
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2bV5Wak
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2bBEwX9
Excerpt Art and Sex:
She nabbed a cookie and came to stand behind him while he drew, but when his efforts on the curve of her cheek slowed and then stopped, she stepped back. “I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?” she managed around a mouthful of cookie.
He shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s just that, well as lovely as you looked, in that dress tonight, stunning actually, it wasn’t the real you. It was all show for the event and for this nebulous Alexander Valentine you were expecting to meet.” He waved the piece of charcoal in the air dismissively. “Black tie affairs are no less masked ball just because you can see peoples’ faces.”
“True,” she said, plopping down in the chair. “My feet may never forgive me for those damn shoes.”
“You’re real now.” He chuckled softly and looked down at the charcoal gripped delicately in his fingers. “Everyone’s a bit more real in the darkest hours of the night. And a lot more vulnerable.” He shuddered.
“Nightmares, you mean?”
He nodded, but then made a dismissive grunt. “I don’t sleep much.”
“Dreams about what happened at the gallery?” She asked, slumping in the chair so that her feet hung over one arm and her shoulder rested low on the other.
“Oh no,” He offered a flirty smile that surprised her. “If I’d been dreaming about that, the dreams would have been far from nightmares.”
She felt his words like a caress, and a tingle ran down her body as though her skin were bathed in the expensive Champagne from the gallery’s party. “Then I’m sorry that you weren’t dreaming about the gallery.”
“Me too,” he said, and then he flipped the sketchpad to a blank page. “Is it all right if I sketch you? Like you are now, I mean.”
She nodded to the collection of female nudes tacked to a corkboard along one wall. “As long as I don’t have to take my clothes off.”
This time his smile was positively wicked. “If you take off your clothes, woman, I won’t be able to concentrate on sketching at all, and I’m not really in the mood to discuss my self abuse problems right at the moment.”
She laughed and shook her hair back over her shoulders. “Self abuse, oh pa-lease.” She shifted again to get more comfortable and the hoodie slipped down off her shoulder leaving her neck and clavicle exposed along with the swell of one braless breast.
“Leave it,” he said, when she started to zip the offending garment a little higher. “I want to sketch your erogenous zones.” And fuck if it didn’t feel like he had just touched her there along the nape of her neck and traced a calloused finger over the her collar bone and down onto the top of her breast.” He chuckled knowingly at the trail of raising goose flesh along the path she had just imagined his hand following. “Did you feel that? My sketching you there?”
“You have eyes,” came her breathless reply. Then she caught a little breath and shivered. “Jesus, how do you do that?”
“There’s a connection between what I see and what I sketch. It’s a brain thing. That’s why people who are paralyzed from the neck down can still draw even without the use of their hands. But I think there’s a much bigger connection than simply exceptional hand-eye coordination. I think it’s the ability to translate into physical form what we perceive and how it affects us. I’ve read your books, Kelly. You do the same thing, only your vision is all internal, but it’s no less magic when you elicit the feeling you want in your reader.”
She shivered again and her nipples hardened. “I’ve never made a reader feel this.”
“Oh, I imagine you have,” he said. The look on his face was something beyond concentration, something very much like Kelly had seen in the eyes of lovers in good romantic films when they made love.
“It’s a substitute for touch,” she managed in a breathless gasp.
“Of course it’s a substitute for touch,” he said. “It’s the connection to the flesh that I’m no longer capable of having in the real world. It’s tactile voyeurism. It’s everything I can’t experience, but dream about.” He huffed out a little breath. “When I’m not having nightmares, that is.”
“Jesus, That’s … that’s uncanny.” She was suddenly struggling not to squirm in the chair. “Do you do this with all your models?”
“God no! Of course not. I don’t know them. They don’t know me. I … ” He stopped sketching for a second and looked around the room as though searching for the right words, and Kelly felt the disconnect as surely as if he’d been caressing her breast and then stopped. “I have no intimacy with them. When I sketch models for a given commission for which I have a deadline, I sketch them … I don’t know … once removed. It’s not personal. It’s a job. They do theirs, and I do mine, and it’s as if we’re all working with a barrier between us. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t feel that with you?” He began to sketch again and she leaned back and closed her eyes as the Champagne bubble feeling returned in force. She might have moaned. Just a little. And he might have done the same in return.
“You know what you said about self-abuse,” she finally managed, struggling to breathe.
He only grunted in reply, his hand moving at speed over the sketchpad, which he didn’t look at. His eyes remained locked on her.
“Well, what happened at the apartment when we were together …”
“There’s a connection, Kelly. That’s all I know. I know you aren’t the kind to take advantage. I knew that from what Dillon’s nephew said. You gave me the first true intimacy I’ve had since the accident. Does that sound like taking advantage to you?” He laid the charcoal down on the easel and began to stroke the sketch with his ring finger, blending and shading and she practically came out of the chair, the response of his touch was so strong. Her nearness to orgasm was startling and a little bit frightening.
“Are you fucking feeling this?” she gasped. “How can this be? How can I feel what you’re doing on that sketchpad?”
“Of course I’m feeling it. How could I look at you, at your response and not?”
“Jesus, Lex. Jesus!” His eyes were on her but his finger still stroked the paper on the easel. “If you don’t stop.”
“Do you want me to stop?” His voice cracked with the last word. From where she sat, she couldn’t tell if he had a hard-on, and though his voice was as tight and breathless as her own, he clearly wasn’t touching himself. One hand gripped the edge of the sketch pad and the other made strokes and circles on the paper, blending, shading, evening out the tone. She knew that, of course she knew that, so why the hell did it feel like what he was doing to a simple charcoal drawing, he was doing to her body?
“Of course I don’t want you to stop,” she hissed, shifting against the phantom sensation of what she imagined his fingers were doing to the sketch of her. “Oh … Oh God! I definitely don’t want you to stop!”
The room dissolved in the sound of heavy breathing and moans and grunts --some hers, some his, all blended together. In the beginning, she might have been posing on the chair, but the situation had devolved to the point that she could not have held still if her life depended on it, and there was no other word for what she was now doing in the chair but writhing.
From behind the easel, Lex stood and gave the stool a hard shove, knocking it over with loud kathunk on the floor that resulted in a hissed curse. He mantled the sketch of her like a hawk over its prey. When she could focus through the growing fog of arousal, she saw that he once again sketched with the charcoal, his hand moving with a motion not unlike how she would want him to stroke her right now, with her so close. How she had fantasized about him stroking her since that night in the apartment, even though she tried not to. And she couldn’t keep from wondering if he were stroking the drawing there, right where she needed it. His other hand still rendered and smoothed and shaded and moved across her body, until the only thought she could hold in her head was the thought of his hands drawing her, drawing her, drawing her ever closer until she could stand it no longer, and then she arched her back. With a startled cry, she dragged a breath into her lungs as though it were her last. She tumbled out of the chair hitting the floor hard with her ass, bruising an elbow and thumping her head on the stone tiles as she convulsed and shivered, and the world dissolved into pinpoints of light behind her tightly clenched eyes.
She heard the deep-chested groan followed by a hard thump from behind the easel and, when she opened her eyes again, he was on his knees beneath it, one hand cupped to the front of his shorts, the other braced against the floor as though he feared gravity would disappear and it would toss him into the void. His eyes were wide, darkened with lust and with, quite likely, the same look of shock mirrored in her own. His bare chest heaved and shuddered over and over again. Kelly couldn’t stop watching him, couldn’t take her eyes of the quiver of muscle, the sheen of perspiration, the clench of charcoal dusted fists, and for an instant, she wished like hell that shecould draw him.
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