Sandra Bunino's Blog, page 22

Second Chance Layover (Part 4) #FreeRead #HolidaySerial

I hope you’re enjoying our story so far! If you’re just joining us, check out Parts 1, 2 & 3 first. 

Today we’re in Cal’s head as he realizes his childhood friend’s sister is all grown up…

Cal ~

It was Charli, but she hadn’t recognized me, not at first anyway. Had it been that long?

Wow! She had really changed, for the better, not that she was a woofer when we were kids, but a kid sister was mostly how I remembered her. She wasn’t a kid anymore. Had I not glimpsed her face first and recognized the way she leaned as she walked, like the job of dragging the world forward was her job alone, I never would have guessed. I would have noticed though.

Charli had definitely shed the little bit of baby fat I remembered. She had grown up. And out. And in. And out again. Like God had started with a roly-poly ball of clay before sculpting her into a masterpiece. My eyes traced the pleasing hourglass shape of her figure as I walked toward where she stood staring.

The hair was the same—caramel blonde and plenty of it—but gone were the braids from the days when she tried to sneak into Duncan’s and my Boys Only club. Gone was the color-coordinated scrunchy she wore to corral it in high school. In those days, whenever I got too close, she either skittered away—too cool for the likes of her older brother’s best friend—or she skewered me with a barb. Cal, Erkel called. He wants his high waters back. Do you wake up stupid or does it slowly overpower you as the day progresses?

I smiled at the memory flashes she evoked. Smiling prevented my tongue from hanging out. Duncan would fuck me over good if he caught me even licking my lips in Charli’s direction. If I had a three-way with his other two sisters, I doubted he’d bat an eyelash. Charli, however, always brought out his defcon level ten over-protectiveness.

Damn. Better stop staring at her breasts!

“I thought that was you!” I said. To my relief, she finally smiled and pulled me into a hug. Her breasts disappeared from sight, but I could feel them, and much worse, every warm, lithe inch of the body pressed against mine. Her hair tickled my cheek. Get a grip, man! She’s off limits even in your head.

“Oh my God, Cal. What a small world seeing you here, of all places. Are you headed home to L.A.?”

“Home yes, but in the other direction—to New York…eventually.” I released a loud sigh. “The weather’s keeping me here at O’Hare a bit longer than I’d like though. Are you heading back home too?”

She shook her head, her blonde hair skimmed her shoulders and shimmered in the light. “I’m heading to Aspen. The whole Tierney clan will be there if I can get myself out of O’Hare first.” A husky laugh chased her statement curling her mouth at its edges and crinkling the corners of her eyes.

“Oh yeah! The famous Tierney family Christmas ski vacation. Duncan took me one year. God, you are a sight for sore eyes. I was so bored, you wouldn’t believe how bored … well, never mind.” I bit back the words. No way would I mention Meet-And-Go or Chartier. I thumbed over my shoulder at the coffee shop. “You got time to sit and chat?”

The coffee shop. Uh-oh. What would I do if Chartier showed up? She probably wouldn’t, and I hadn’t told her what I looked like. I owed her a quick text at least. I’d tell her my flight got moved up or something. No harm, no foul and no bad karma to chase me into the skies.

Charli opened her mouth, shut it again and paused, a shadow passing over face. “Yes. I have plenty of time to chat, but if you don’t mind, I need to use the ladies room first.”

“Sure. I’ll get the drinks ordered. What should I order for you? My treat.”

A hint of color flushed her cheeks. “You don’t have to do that—”

“I know, but I want to. What can I get you? Something hot or something cold?” I winked at her. Why the hell did I wink at her? No flirting!

She licked her lips and said, “Nonfat latte then.”

I nodded. “One nonfat latte coming up. I’ll grab us a table if I can. Otherwise I’ll wait outside the door and we’ll find a couple of seats elsewhere.”

“Okay, be right back.” She spun and wove her way through the crowd toward the ladies room, no trace of a lean in her posture. The sway of her hips and the flashes of red on the soles of her high-heeled boots mesmerized me until she disappeared inside.

When my stupor wore off, I removed my cell phone and took my place at the end of the line. I tapped out a text to my mysterious Meet-And-Go assignation, making sure to invoke no embarrassing auto-correct gaffes:

“Can’t make it after all. Got an earlier flight. Sorry. BroadwayBoundJD.”

I hoped I didn’t come off too abrupt, but we didn’t know each other. I didn’t owe her anything more than a courtesy text. I had no sooner hit send, when an incoming text chimed.

“Apologies but my plans changed, and I have to cancel. Safe travels to you. Chartier.”

I chuckled under my breath, deleted her message and slipped my phone back in my pocket. Sorry Chartier. Charli trumped a stranger any day, week or year.

****

Visit me tomorrow to find out what Charli thinks about bumping into Cal! Be sure to leave a comment, too. I’ll draw one name at the end of the week to receive a $25 gift card!

Second Chance Layover (Part 3) #FreeRead #HolidaySerial

Welcome to Part 3 of Second Chance Layover, the holiday blog serial I cowrote with Lila Shaw! Be sure to comment each day for a chance to win a gift certificate at the end of the week. Have you ever tried one of those online match services? Cal and Charli are about to find out how they work.

Read on…

Cal ~

With the press of a keystroke, I alerted the other bored and lonely travelers of O’Hare that BBJD was in the building. My location within the airport, I left blank. No point making myself a bluelight special before vetting out the clientele. Clingy, needy women were not my thing; neither was a quick, anonymous fuck in an airport. God knew I’d never been that desperate to get off.

Instantly, a list of screen names popped up—Anonymous, BabsAtLarge, Chartier, DaveS, FlyMeBaby, LonelyInIL, Sam, Sheila, WetNWild, and on and on. At least twenty screen names, ranging from the provocative to the mundane, filled my smart phone’s window. I scrolled through them and clicked on Chartier who had classified herself as a 25-35 female. Best to stick with my own age range, I supposed. She also claimed to be from the same part of the country as myself. We would have at least one thing to talk about…if I contacted her.

Maybe later.

A familiar antsiness took over and propelled me to my feet.

I walked the full length of my terminal. Twice. The adjoining terminal received an equally thorough tour until bored, I returned to my assigned gate. The faces hadn’t changed much during my absence.

My smart phone alerted me to a message. Meet-And-Go.com filled the sender window, “Someone wants to meet you” occupied the subject line. I clicked open the notification expecting my someone to be WetNWild or LonelyInIL Instead Chartier pleasantly surprised me by making contact. The link provided took me back to the website and into my inbox.

Hi. I’m here in O’Hare and my flight is delayed. Isn’t everyone’s? Never done this before so am not familiar with any Meet-And-Go.com etiquette. Saw your listing and noticed we’re both from the same part of NY. Message back if you want to chat over coffee.

Hmm. Was it karma that the one other person whose link I clicked was the one who happened to contact me? I was due some good karma for a change.

I switched over to my tablet. If we corresponded more in writing, a larger keyboard would work much better.

Hi Chartier. Spotted your listing and also noticed the NY connection. Coffee sounds fine. I’m in terminal D. I saw a shop nearby but can meet you wherever is convenient for you

I clicked send and kicked back in my seat. One coffee wouldn’t hurt. I could drink it quickly if I needed to make a quick escape. I hadn’t mentioned the length of my layover or my destination. Easy escape excuse fodder. She might not even contact me back, might have only been dipping a toe.

***

Charli ~

I shifted to lean on my left butt cheek while waiting for BroadwayBoundJD’s response. Great, pins and needles attacked my foot. I needed to get up soon before both feet fell asleep. A beep sounded from my laptop and message alert blinked on the screen. I smiled, excited my stranger had replied so fast. I scanned his message and tapped out a response to seal the deal. This was kind of fun in a weird way.

Hi Broadway, I’m in D too and I need a change of scenery. I passed a coffee shop around Gate 10 so I’ll meet you there. I’m dragging a carryon the color of Pepto. Doubt if you’ll miss me.

Stretching my legs I tapped my high-heeled boot on the floor to wake up my extremity. I considered changing into the shearling lined Uggs tucked away in my carryon, but remembered Tiffany’s last report on the shoes men love and hate. According to Tiff, Uggs made the hate list along with Crocks as the unsexiest shoes ever. What’d they like? Pointy-heeled stilettos, of course. I stood and re-tested my sleepy foot. I pulled my phone from the inside pocket of my purse and poked the redial button. Henry picked up after the first ring.

“Hey. I have a hookup on Meet-And-Go dot com. His profile name is BroadwayBoundJD, so, on the off chance I end up in an airport dumpster, he’s your prime suspect.”

A chuckle erupted in my ear. “BroadwayBound doesn’t sound too sinister to me. What’s he going to do? Dance and sing you to death?”

I rolled my eyes. “Do you hear me laughing?”

“Go enjoy yourself, but more important, get me a good story.”

I slid my phone back into the pocket and stored my laptop in the carryon. After shaking out the last of the pins and needles from my semi-asleep foot, I flipped up the handle of my carryon and headed toward Gate 10.

People do this all the time, I told myself as the flashing neon coffee sign came into view. I took a deep breath and scanned the small space. A guy sitting by himself should have been easy to spot, however with all the stranded travelers, what if the shop was full of them? Why didn’t I get a description of this dude? I blew a frustrated breath upward, sending a stray lock of hair fluttering off my forehead.

My mother’s disappointed expression entered my head. I guessed I considered her to be the voice of reason. Who else did I have? As crazy as it seemed, I was the sanest one of my friends. Hussies filled the entertainment news industry. Most of my social circle wouldn’t think twice about a random hook up. In fact, after my story ran, a few would probably hop a cab to JFK for a quickie.

I must’ve looked like a royal loser as I stood near the entrance while people whizzed past me, focused on their own agendas. Everyone was so time-driven at airports. This was a stupid idea. I turned and started back to my gate. I couldn’t pull off this kind of story. I should have left the fancy stuff to Tiffany and stuck with back office research and copyediting.

“Charli?”

I swung around, and my long hair hit me in the cheek. A man waved as he headed toward me. I was a bit nearsighted but refused to wear my glasses for anything but driving. I cocked my head squinting. Something familiar about his voice and gait struck me as he strode my way. I knew him, but from where? I focused on his features and searched his eyes for clues.

“Charli Tierney, I thought that was you.”

As though my body recognized him before my brain registered his identity, heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks. “Cal?”

***

So, what do you think so far? Leave a comment to enter a drawing for a $25 gift certificate.

Come back tomorrow for more Charli and Cal! If you like our little story, please share with your friends!

 

 

Second Chance Layover (Part 2) #FreeRead #HolidaySerial

Welcome to Second Chance Layover: A FREE Holiday Blog Serial I co-wrote with my fabulous friend, Lila Shaw. We kicked off Second Chance Layover on Friday with an introduction to our heroine, Charli Tierney. If you were still in a turkey stupor, braved the Black Friday sales, or were bombarded with holiday guests and didn’t have chance to read part one, no worries! Click here to get caught up….I’ll check out Cyber Monday sales while I wait for you….

Okay, ready for today’s installment? Meet our hero, Cal Wheaton…

Cal~

Chicago O’Hare … it looked the same yet different from the last time I passed through. The bookstore had changed and so too had the fast food restaurants. The latest trendy franchises able to afford the exorbitant airport rental rates turned over with alarming frequency.

New faces were the same in their harried expressions as they moved from point A to point B, towing screaming kids on leashes or pushing them in strollers. Old-timers ambled arm and arm as if enjoying the sights and scenery of the Boardwalk at sunset. No doubt they had arrived at least two hours before their scheduled departure time from the cozy suburbs of Chicago. Crisp businessmen and women deftly side-stepped and dodged all of them with an efficiency borne from too many hours in airports.

I scanned my gate area. More people had arrived and filled in the seats near me. My laptop whirred in silent labor warming my thighs. Time to give the old girl a rest.

Attention. This is a flight announcement for Eastaway flight 4500 leaving gate A-56. Our airplane has just taken off from New York. Estimated time of arrival is three hours. Please check the monitor for future announcements as we may have a gate change due to weather.

Three hours? My groan formed a chorus with others’ seated near me. I checked my watch. Three o’clock. Assuming the plane arrived at six, and allowing another half hour to clear out the arriving passengers and their messes, I’d be in my assigned seat by six-thirty. If we needed de-icing or O’Hare takeoffs were backed up, I might spend another hour inching toward the head of the runway. Wheels up at seven thirty and a three-hour flight to LaGuardia would put me in at ten thirty. Half hour to get my bag and catch a cab. Another half hour to Will’s house. During the day, I’d allow at least an hour. The half hour savings provided little consolation for the three-hour delay.

I rubbed a hand over my brow pondering my options. I had a long time to mull over my choices. A distraction from my thoughts would be welcome. Maybe a book or magazine and a coffee. Perhaps a movie? I had time for an entire movie on a rented DVD player.

I could also erase my memories over a drink or two or three. No. That wouldn’t work. I had tried it already. The only thing alcohol overdosing did was make me stupid, and then sick. Stupid could strand me at the airport even longer. With my back already sore from the L.A. to Chicago leg, my muscles twitching from inactivity, I dismissed imbibing altogether.

I scanned the area, drinking in the faces of my fellow travelers. An elderly man sat across from me chatting on his cell phone in a voice stripped of all discretion. Two seats over, a teen slumped down in his seat, ear buds firmly in place and his eyes shut. At least I think they were shut. Hard to tell with a canopy of bangs covering most of his face. The only sign of life from the boy was the rhythmic jiggling of a leg. If I cocked an ear in his direction, the faint rumbling bass of his music wormed its way into my brain. Next to him, a bottle blonde, middle-aged woman, probably the boy’s mother, flipped the pages of a celebrity gossip magazine. Her nails flashed by with each turn of the page—zebra print with red tips. Good God. As if the magazine weren’t bad enough.

An old unwelcome wave of anxiety washed over me. I hated those magazines—predatory, vicious, and unforgiving. No. I wouldn’t think about her. My brain had grooves worn from too many “what if” and “if only” musings. Those types of thoughts did no good, and it was past time to let them go. I would let them go, and making a new home far away from the festering malaise was step one.

A white card near my foot caught my eye. I’d seen them around, stuck in the nooks and crannies of the airport vying for the nanosecond attention spans of bypassers.

Meet-And-Go.com…the great place and way for busy travelers to meet.

I rolled my eyes and flipped over the card. Say goodbye to airport boredom!

Well, there was that.

A smart code on the corner tempted me to scan it with my phone, to bring up the website…just for shits and giggles. No big whoop. Curiosity. I doubted I would find many women other than barflies, cougars and hookers…mostly hookers. The men were probably the same pervs skulking about the restrooms. No, thank you. I only played on one team and had never been interested in sampling the other.

My phone chimed as it scanned the code and pulled up the website. No harm in setting up an anonymous account just to see how many people participated.

A few keystrokes and BroadwayBoundJD in O’Hare was born. Let the ladies figure that handle out. The smarter ones might guess my occupation as an entertainment lawyer heading for New York City. The larger truth was I had deserted Hollywood for New York’s publishing community, film rights specifically. The much more personal truth was I was fleeing ghosts. I’d never believed in hauntings before. I believed in them now, the ones whose faint sobbing gasps in the still moments between sleeping and waking filled me with crushing guilt. The ones with sad, weary faces who pointed accusing fingers.

I shook off my melancholy. I’d entertained those self-destructive thoughts long enough. They had far overstayed their welcome, and my therapist had warned that dwelling on them did me no good. Like I couldn’t have figured that out on my own versus paying $240 an hour to be given common sense platitudes.

SECOND CHANCE LAYOVER takes off now! #FreeRead Holiday Serial

Happy Thanksgiving! Turkey leftovers are in the fridge and the MIL is back home… So, let’s get this party started, baby! That’s right! The FREE Holiday Blog Serial I cowrote with author and awesome lady, Lila Shaw, starts now!

Our story opens in Charli Tierney’s point of view as she’s stuck at Chicago’s O’Hare Airporten route to her family’s holiday ski vacation.  Please enjoy Part 1 of SECOND CHANCE LAYOVER and join us each weekday until Christmas Eve for a new daily installment.

I’d love for you to visit my blog everyday, however you can also follow our story on a weekly basis every Wednesday on Smashwords and Barnes & Noble beginning December 4th!

 Okay, SECOND CHANCE LAYOVER takes off now! Get ready…it’s going to be a sexy ride!

 Charli ~

An army of disgruntled passengers had settled in for a long wait in the gate’s packed waiting area. Without an empty seat in sight, I wrinkled my nose at bodies sitting and even lying on the worn carpeting. Didn’t they know about all the germs embedded in the carpet fibers? Gross.

At an unoccupied pillar, I converted my hot pink hard-sided carryon into makeshift chair. I fished my iPad out of my purse and refreshed the airline website.

Delayed.

The word blinked in red on my screen. Over the hum of activity, I heard a newscast from one of the overhead television monitors. A severe snowstorm had left its immobilizing effect from Canada and into the Midwest. I blew a long breath through pursed lips, imagining my mother’s rant: Abby and Erin arrived before the storm, because they had nonstop flights. Sure, because Abby and Erin married into money and didn’t work, not to mention worry about spending extra on nonstop flights. I scrimped to afford my midtown apartment, the exorbitant rent worth every penny.

I rubbed my left temple, laid my phone on my thigh, and scrolled to “Mommie Dearest” in my contacts. The reference always made me laugh, especially since it bugged my mother so much. Eileen Tierney’s parenting style was nothing like Joan Crawford’s, however she bore an uncanny resemblance to Faye Dunaway. Abby and Erin inherited her classic good looks and natural grace. The ‘perfect gene’ skipped me, the middle sister. I favored my father’s side of the family—good Irish potato growing stock with wide hips and the ability to drink most men under the table.

Phone to my ear, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Hey Mom. I’m stuck at O’Hare on a layover…yes, the storm…I know…I had to work. Listen, I need to cut this short because I’m trying to save my phone battery. I’ll call when I know what time I’m due in. Love you.” I rapidly tapped the ‘End’ button. Did I imagine the ringing in my ears? I’d bet a million dollars my sisters and father were getting an earful of Eileen’s shrill voice. Duncan would be taking his sweet time in arriving as usual. I was always late; but my brother was always later, even though he never seemed to get reamed like I did. I guessed because he was my parents’ only hope of carrying on the Tierney name, not that enough Irish Tierneys didn’t already walk the Earth.

I snapped open my suitcase and pulled out my laptop from a padded interior pocket before making a second call. After powering up, I switched back to my phone and scrolled to “Master of My Universe” in my contacts. With a chuckle, I hit the ‘Send’ button.

Henry picked up on the first ring. “I thought you were on vacation?”

I snorted. “Vacation is planting my ass in the sand with an umbrella drink. I’m going to the Tierney family ski condo, also known as hell. Let’s just say I’m on an anti-vacation.”

“Okay then, I thought you were on your anti-vacation.” His voice was flat, but I’d bet the store his mouth wore a hint of a smile.

“I’m stuck in another type of hell: O’Hare Airport. But good news, I have my laptop. Give me an assignment.”

Papers shuffled in the background, probably the ‘fluff piece’ pile on the corner of his desk. “Ah, I got something here. I was going to give it to Tiffany, but it’s perfect for your situation. There’s this website called Meet-And-Go dot com where you can meet random strangers at the same place such as airports, bars, museums, parks, whatever. Go on and see if you can hook up with someone at the airport.”

My eyes widened. “Hook up with someone at the airport? What? Are you pimping me out now, Henry?” I grinned picturing old Henry turning a deep shade of red.

“Not ‘hook up’ as in ‘hook up’. Go find a friend, Charli, then write about it. I’ll run the story as a human-interest piece. We need some fluff pieces next week. There’s always a lull between Christmas and New Years.”

“When am I going to get something with real meat?” I had paid my dues in research and editing. I was ready, but convincing everyone else was the challenge.

“Let’s see what you do with this, and we’ll talk after the New Year. Merry Christmas, Charli.” Click.

I typed the website into the address bar and hit ‘Enter.’ The shining point of this assignment? Stealing from Tiffany, the Queen of Fluff. She would have loved the assignment, loved yet another chance to flaunt her stuff.

I opened an account on Meet-And-Go.com and added enough personal information to give me access to the next screen. The long list of members’ claiming to be at O’Hare and looking to meet others amazed me. So many people on the site. Interesting.

The challenge lay in finding the one least likely to be a serial killer. Oh yes, players abounded on Meet-And-Go, pictures and all. Pass. I hated when people tried too hard. I scrolled down and scanned the list. Someone’s hometown of Upstate New York caught my eye, and I clicked on the profile for BroadwayBoundJD. Kind of skimpy. I guessed he shared my hesitancy about sharing personal information with strangers. I clicked on the message option and typed.

****

So…what do you think so far? Leave a comment below to be entered to win a little something-something at the end of next week!

Add SECOND CHANCE LAYOVER to your Goodreads shelf!

Next installment: Monday, December 2nd

The Train Ride #FreeRead #MondayBlogs

I’m so excited about this week’s kick-off of Second Chance Layover, the holiday blog serial I co-wrote with the fabulous friend and author, Lila Shaw. To get you into the serial mood, I’m re-running The Train Ride, my 2012 holiday blog serial, in its entirety for anyone who missed it. I hope you enjoy the sexy ride…

Alexis Winters rolled her eyes. Yet another polyester bearded Santa Claus gawked at her bare legs. The strap of her what-the-hell-was-I-thinking high heeled pumps dug into her ankle as she snaked through the crowds toward Grand Central Station. Slipping the phone from her purse’s outside pocket, she glanced at the time. 7:34. Damn. She had eleven minutes to catch her train or she’d be stuck in the city for another hour. A soggy chill, that only a New York City December evening could produce, found its way to her toes. It wasn’t comfortable but she sure as hell didn’t regret shimmying out of her pantyhose in the ladies room before leaving the office. The cold air swirling around her calves felt like heaven compared to the past ten hours spent in a stagnant office.

Kicking up her pace to power-walk mode, Alexis pushed through the revolving doors into the station and headed toward Track 17. She took a split second to appreciate the vaulted ceilings and massive windows of one of the city’s treasures. Climbing the platform’s stairs two at a time, she slipped into the closest train car with just a minute to spare. A deep breath filled her lungs as Alexis glanced around the crowded car. She was used to the regular crowd of business people on the New Haven bound route, but there was a different buzz on the train that day. It was Christmas time, which meant throngs of suburbanites flooded the city for their annual shopping and Rockefeller Center tree viewing day. She rolled her eyes at the couples and families tittering happily as she passed rows of passenger filled seats.

Scarcely an empty seat could be found in the first few train cars. The thought of listening to kids shrieking Christmas carols for the next hour made her skin crawl anyway. It wasn’t as though she hated Christmas. She only hated the pre-holiday frenzy. If she saw one more candy cane, reindeer or tacky Santa she was sure she’d lose it. The sugary-sweet-make-your-teeth-hurt part of Christmas bugged her. It was one big nuisance and unless you were ten or had a ten year-old kid, what was the point? Really. A smile teased at her lips as she remembered the events from her past few Christmas holidays.

Alexis scanned the rows and rows of occupied seats. Her feet ached as she continued from car to car through the seemingly never ending train. Hope of having a peaceful ride home dwindled with every steel door that slammed in back of her. She lowered her hopes to just finding a seat within a five foot non-screaming kid radius. Pushing onward, she figured there were just a few more cars until the end of the train. Despite her frayed nerves, the gentle rocking eased her into a sleepy haze and she was determined to find a seat in the last car. A loud clang of the handle echoed before she pulled on the heavy door.

Then…pure silence.

Her ears perked. Surely, the car wasn’t empty. She stepped into the compartment and looked around. An attendant looked up from his reading.

“This is the quiet car, Miss,” he whispered.

The quiet car? She’d never ventured far enough into the train to find the quiet car. Glancing around the compartment, she spotted only an older couple in the third row. She was about to collapse into a seat a few rows from the pair when a single overhead light switched on. Her gaze was drawn to the back of the car and directly into a set of dark eyes staring right back at her.

****

Glancing over the top of the seat in front of him, his eyes washed over the beautiful woman entering the cabin. Long hair partially covered one eye and swept over her shoulder like black silk. The tails of her corporate style blouse hung loose and the first few buttons below her neck were undone revealing the hint of something lacey underneath. She stopped to brush the hair from her face and scan the cabin. It took her all of three seconds to lock onto his stare.

The racing train matched the uptick of his heartbeat as she walked up the aisle, her eyes never wavered from his. She continued her slow procession to the back of the train until she stood directly next to his row.

“Is that seat taken?” she asked,  nodding her head once to the unoccupied seat to his right.

“I don’t believe it is,” he said after clearing his throat.

He detected a slight smile from her full lips as she hoisted the leather briefcase that hung from her arm up and slid it into the overhead compartment. A wave of heat hit his cheek and he stole an appreciative glance at the strip of warm skin peeking between the top of her skirt’s waistband and the bottom of her untucked blouse as she stretched to adjust her stowed case.

A deep inhale was rewarded by the heady combination of lavender mixed with cinnamon.

“May I?” she whispered.

The breathy request pulled at the muscles in his stomach. He carefully folded the newspaper in his hand and tucked it into the seat in front of him. His gaze blazed a trail up her body as he stood. She squared her shoulders but remained within an intimate distance while he stepped around her body to allow her access into the row. He extended his hand as an invitation to the seat next to his. “My pleasure, Miss…”

She smiled and slid past him, gently brushing her fingertips on his jacket sleeve as she moved into the row. “Dahlia,” she said while settling herself into the middle seat. Her eyes sparkled through a thick veil of eyelashes as she glanced up. “And your name, sir?”

“Tristan.”

The hint of pine, musk and pure man tickled her nose as she drank in the sight of his well-defined body wrapped handsomely in a dark suit. His red power tie was like the cherry on top of a decadent and sinful ice cream sundae. She pegged him for a financial market tycoon, or perhaps a commercial real estate broker, or maybe even a movie producer. The only thing she knew for sure was it would be a train ride he’d never forget.

Tristan stood in the aisle and methodically unbuttoned his jacket. With a whisper of silk sliding across cotton broadcloth, he shrugged it off his shoulders and draped it over the seat on the other side of the aisle. Alexis took the opportunity to admire the way his shirt hugged the muscular planes of his strong shoulders. Her glance flicked to the perfect eye level view where the soft fabric of his suit pants molded perfectly around his backside. Yes, he was a fine specimen of man. She couldn’t help a sideways glance to the spot right below his belt when he turned to take his seat.

“Mmmm,” she hummed quietly.

The clacking of the train on the tracks drowned her appreciative groan. Or so she thought. Was that a chuckle she heard from him as he sat down? Alexis pulled the January issue of Cosmopolitan out of her purse and thumbed through it until she found the article she’d dog-eared after retrieving it from the mailbox a few days before…

Take the Silent Sex Challenge—See Who Moans First

She reclined her chair the inch or so it had allowed, and slipped off her pumps. Tristan glanced at the magazine she tilted in his direction and offered her a smile before loosening his tie. Bending down, he retrieved the newspaper from the pocket of the seat in front of him. She followed his gaze as it rested on her painted toenails. Satisfied with the apparent invisible hold developed, she wiggled her toes, thus breaking his stare. Clearing his throat, he unfolded the newspaper and subtly shifted in his seat.

****

Tristan’s semi-aroused state heightened as he caught a glimpse at the magazine article’s title. Nothing turned him on more than a woman who wasn’t afraid of going after what she wanted. Miss Dahlia was definitely in search of a little adventure. But like every hunt, much of the satisfaction laid in the journey. He glanced at her profile and observed her absentmindedly twirling a lock of black hair around her index finger and releasing it back to its pin straight form. Sinking her manicured nails into the silky strands, she grazed the collar of her blouse and reached into the valley between her breasts to retrieve a gold charm. Pulling the pendent from its cozy home, she freed yet another pearly button. His breath caught as he fixated on a lacy bra showcasing soft, curving flesh. The rocking of the train only increased the hard pulse of his arousal against his suit pants. Turning the page of his newspaper, he attempted to read an article about the abysmal state of the stock market.

She crossed her legs and the cherry red toenails of her right foot bobbed up and down with the train’s rhythm, closing in on his pant leg. Stretching his legs to adjust his aching desire, he shuffled his foot closer to allow easy access. Her toes repeatedly teased at the cuff of his pants, riding the fabric up his shin and letting it fall.  A groan escaped through clenched teeth and he gripped the newspaper in both hands. Shifting position, her foot grazed his calf, tracing a path to his knee then back down to his ankle. The magazine slipped off her lap as she unbuttoned the last two pearls and slipped the silky blouse open. He blew out a shallow breath when her fingers brushed over her lacy bra and trailed a path to her skirt covered thighs.

His shirt and tie suddenly became three sizes too tight as his chest strained against the restrictive fabric. Tossing the newspaper on the empty seat on the other side of the aisle, he reached up to turn off the overhead reading light when she caught his arm.

“Don’t. Not just yet,” she purred.

Loosening her grasp, she slipped her hand down his sleeved arm to her lap. Uncrossing her legs, her fingers curled around her skirt’s hem and hitched the fabric up her thighs, revealing smooth alabaster skin and a hint of hot pink panties. Free from of the confines of her skirt, she parted her legs and reached for his arm. Flexing his free hand into a tight fist, he fought off the desire to pull her onto his lap. He’d be patient. The last thing he wanted was to ruin the moment. If her intentions were to tease or put on a show, he’d remain a captive audience. But if Dahlia wanted more, he was sure as hell a willing and able participant. The message was delivered loud and clear when she guided his fingertips up and down the delicate skin just below the juncture between her legs. She released his hand as if she dared his next move. Tentatively he continued caressing the inside of her thigh. He searched her eyes while each stroke elicited a shiver from her body.  A slight flick of her eyebrows gave him the invitation he’d hoped for.

Tristan slipped his palm under her leg and lifted her knee to his mouth. Laying a flutter of kisses over her thigh, he continued his journey up satin smooth legs. She shifted, leaned her back against the window and sighed as his tongue drew circles on the inside of her thigh. Higher and higher he kissed and nibbled his way up pebbled skin, taking turns laving each leg until the moist heat of her sex blanketed his face. He guided her left leg between his body and the back of his seat and grasped the backs of her thighs with both hands. With a single tug, she lay flat on the seat, her knees on either side of him. Wrapping the band of her pink thong around his thumbs, he yanked them off in one fluid motion, giving him a glimpse of the prize he would soon possess. She inched up on her elbows and licked her lips. Wondering what those glistening red lips would feel like wrapped around his manhood, he swallowed hard and averted his eyes. Her mouth was indeed tantalizing, but equal in comparison to the glistening folds in front of him. His gaze met hers once more.

“What are you waiting for, Tristan?”

Alexis’s sensitized skin buzzed under his hand as she wiggled in anticipation of the talents of the sexy stranger. She’d never been an exhibitionist, but this sex-in-a-suit man pushed all of the right buttons causing her self-consciousness to fly out the window of the racing train.

“Patience, Dahlia.”

He held her thighs and blew a light breath over her folds, eliciting a quick tremble that made her whimper for more. Silently, she thanked the gods above for the perfect timing of her monthly Brazilian wax appointment as he parted her with his mouth and dipped into her channel. The swirl of his tongue sent waves of heat through her core. Alexis opened her legs further until her knees pressed against the seat back of the row in front of them. Clamping down on her thighs,  he lifted her slightly off the cushion and continued to intimately acquaint himself with her slick heat. She closed her eyes, threw her head back and moaned deep as the tip of his tongue circled just outside her bundle of nerves.

“Open. I want to see your eyes as you come undone.”

She inched up on her elbows and gazed intently at his mouth. Licking his lips, he remained still just above the apex of her legs.

“Oh God, please don’t stop,” she said in a throaty, desperate voice she didn’t recognize. He pulled at a primal need in her that wouldn’t be satiated until she had him. All of him. If even for a few stolen moments of time. She could’ve enjoyed the talented tease of his tongue all evening, however time was at the essence as the train raced to her final destination where she would resume her life as Alexis Winters. But before her fantasy could continue she must wait for-

Whoosh. Slam.

The sound of footsteps and a hushed deep voice traveled through the dark cabin. The attendant was making his rounds to collect passenger fare tickets. Her eyes remained on Tristan as a smile formed on his face. Was he expecting her to jump and hastily pull her skirt down from around her waist? He certainly couldn’t expect her to remain spread eagle in all her glory for the ticket guy to see. Slow but steady footsteps continued toward them. Since the train car was empty except for the older couple at the front, she knew the attendant would not stop again until he was at their row.

Tristan pulled away and sat up in his seat. He jerked his head to the side, signaling her to do the same. Damn! How dare he stop. She brought her fingers to her lips and deliberately licked her index and middle finger then ran her wet fingers down her body to the juncture of her thighs. The single touch set off a deep moan from the back of her throat that even surprised her. She moaned again, slightly louder than the last as her fingers slid along her slit to right below her most sensitive spot. The footsteps halted for a moment and a very deliberate cough came from a few feet away. Tristan raised his eyebrows as a silent challenge, one she’d gladly accepted. Alexis had no intention of backing down. Her fingers slowly circled her clit once. Twice. Three times. A powerful orgasm was building in her core and she couldn’t stop it any more than she would be able to stop the very train they rode. She bit her lip to stifle yet another throaty moan. The sound of footsteps resumed and Tristan’s gaze flicked to the front of the train car.

“Shit,” he mumbled while grabbing his jacket from the seat across the aisle and threw it on her lap. “Cover up,” he growled under his breath just before the attendant reached their seats.

Alexis sat up and wrapped the opened sides of her blouse around her while crossing her arms.

“Tickets, please,” the attendant announced. His glance bounced from Tristan to Alexis and finally to the jacket on her lap. Alexis reached down and pulled her ticket from the outside pocket of her purse and handed it to Tristan who fished his out of his pocket. The attendant took the tickets and glanced back at Alexis.

“Everything alright, ma’am?”

Heat rose in Alexis’ cheeks. “Yes, everything’s fine,” she said quietly.

The attendant nodded his head and turned toward the front of the cabin. Alexis noticed his glance back to her lap followed by a smile before he left. They sat in silence and listened to the attendant’s footsteps and the heavy door opening then closing with a clang.

Tristan clicked the overhead light off and their immediate surroundings went dark with the exception of the passing glow of exterior track lights and the light of the moon. Warm hands captured her waist, hoisted her body easily onto his lap and cupped her face in his hands. Closing her eyes, she focused on the touch of his fingertips trailing two paths slowly down her neck and chest before coming to a rest under her bra. His thumbs brushed across her pebbled buds while Alexis shimmied the blouse from her shoulders. As it fell to the ground she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra.

****

“You’re an intriguing woman, Dahlia,” he said huskily. His mouth just a whisper from hers.

His aching bulge strained against her weight as the gentle rhythm of the train melded her body into his. He enjoyed the shiver which ran through her body when his fingers curled around her bra straps and dragged the wisp of fabric from her arms. Sucking in a ragged breath, he admired her creamy breasts as they skimmed tantalizingly against his chest.

“Take your hair down,” he commanded.

She pulled the elastic band holding her hair in the ponytail and shook her head so that her silky tresses swung freely over her shoulders.

“Like what you see?” she asked and looked at him through a veil of eyelashes.

Control slipped through his fingertips with each of rotation of Dahlia’s sweet warmth upon the evidence of his arousal straining against the zipper of his trousers. Encircling his hands around her ribcage, his thumbs lingered under her breasts before lightly swiping each taut pebble. Shifting her weight on his lap he relieved the pressure on his rigid shaft, while admiring her creamy breasts glowing in the moonlight. His gaze returned to her eyes before whisking each tight bud with his tongue.

Dahlia moaned softly as he took her into his mouth. Her breath came faster. “There’s not much time,” she said, reaching for his belt buckle.

Tristan grabbed her wrists and guided her hands to his shoulders. Brushing a lock of hair from her face, he tucked it behind her ear. His fingers slid down her cheek and along her jawbone before holding her chin between his thumb and index finger, surveying her face in the flickering light. She was damn beautiful and looked surprising vulnerable. His gaze traveled from her partially closed eyes framed with long lashes to her luscious mouth. Her parted lips seemed to await his next move. He obliged by lightly brushing his lips against hers. The vibration of her sigh into his mouth made his firm flesh stand at attention. He growled as her tongue swiped at his lower lip. Warm breath blanketed his cheek and neck while she grabbed the knot in his tie. She pulled the silk from his collar and unbuttoned his shirt while he made quick work of his belt buckle and pants.

Pulling her skirt above her hips he pressed the heal of his palm against her mound and hooked a finger over her clit. She swiveled her hips and heightened the friction. As she rode his hand, she dipped her own inside his loosened pants, stroking his thick hardness.

“Baby, if keep that up I’ll break my cardinal rule of ladies first.”  A few more strokes from her skilled hand would’ve had him coming in no time. He palmed her hips and guided her slick entrance over the head of his hard male heat.

Bucking his hips upward, he entered her hot channel. They moaned in unison as their lips touched and breath intermingled. He rocked her hips and guided her movements as he thrust deep and hard. Breathlessly she pulled him close.

“Don’t move, let me do the work,” she whispered into his ear.

“My pleasure,” he said huskily.

Loosening the grasp he had on her hips, he acquiesced and allowed her to take the lead.

****

Alexis shifted her hips back so that her sensitive clit glided along his rigid cock. At first she took him in slow fluid strides up and down the hardness of his sex. He groaned as she teased him by lifting her body so just the tip of his head remained inside then dropped down on his smooth cock burying him deep within her core. She rode him in short and shallow strokes to ensure his cock caressed that perfect spot. Even though she told him not to move, his hands explored and found the exact place to drive her to the brink of climax. It was all she needed to set off a wave of delirium. Her inner walls tightened around his thickness as her orgasm developed from deep within her belly. There was no stopping the exquisite heat that consumed her body. She called out, not caring who heard. All that matter was enjoying what was possibly the best climax of her life.

“Let it go, baby,” he whispered,  stroking her hair.

His cock pulsed as she contracted upon him, milking him until there was nothing left. She collapsed onto him, resting her cheek on his chest, the comforting sound of his heartbeat and rapid breath matched the soft click of the wheels below. They remained melded to each other until an unwelcome sound jarred her back to reality.

“Next stop. New Haven!” Blared from the speaker.

“This is me.” Shifting her body from his lap, she slipped her blouse on and hastily secured the buttons and found her shoes and purse before attempting to slip by him.

“Hold on.” He grabbed her wrist and stood while haphazardly zipping his fly. “Don’t run off so fast. I need to see you again,” he said and cupped her face in his hands.

She searched his eyes and pulled his hands from her cheeks. “It’s impossible. I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her gaze dropped to his luscious lips. Pressing his warm mouth against hers one last time, a spark ran through her body as his growing thickness nudged at her belly. Breaking their kiss, she pushed away thoughts of running her fingers through his hair and falling back into the dark row of seats. They were both ready for more but it was time to say good-bye to Dahlia and resume her life as Alexis Winters.

He nodded, pulled her the briefcase from the overhead compartment and handed it to her. Their hands grazed before she turned to leave.

“Hey,” he called as she walked to the front of the compartment.

She stopped, turned and smiled at his rumpled appearance. His belt dangled from his pants and one of his shirt tales hung loose. Hair jutted out in every direction but his smile would remain seared in her memory forever.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Tristan.” Turning on her heels, she continued walking until she reached the cabin door. When she turned back around to get one last look, he was gone.

Alexis stepped onto the platform at New Haven’s Union Station. Her wobbly legs were a pleasant reminder of the sexiest train ride she’d ever taken. Stopping at the station cafe, she bought a stale cup of coffee and found a nearby bench to rest and collect her thoughts. Inhaling a deep breath, she released the captured air slowly through her lips while watching the passengers hurry past her. Everyone was always in such a hurry this time of year. Holidays were meant for taking the time to enjoy the little things in life, not for stress and aggravation. The holidays were the perfect time to do something outside of your comfort zone. Something special. Something like her the tryst with Tristan in the dark row of seats of the quiet car. She smiled, the holidays are about doing what she had just done.

After downing the remainder of her coffee, she threw the cup in a nearby garbage can as she walked toward the station exit. Pushing open the door, the cold air whipped around her sensitized skin causing every nerve ending in her body to stand on end. Her time with Tristan left her wanting more.

She needed more.

Scanning the parking lot, she spotted the glowing brake lights of the familiar white pickup truck with the name Winters’ Construction written on the side of the driver’s door. She trudged through the slush to the passenger side and opened the back door. Placing her briefcase and purse on the backseat, she spotted a pair of coveralls in a heap on the seat. Slamming the back door, she stepped to the front and pulled the handle. Her gaze rested on a pair of hot pink panties and bra hanging from the rearview mirror. She yanked open the heavy door and climbed inside.

“Hey there, beautiful,” said a deep voice.

Alexis leaned over and planted a kiss on the driver’s stubbled cheek.

“Thanks for wearing the suit, Kev. I know how much you hate ties. It was a nice touch.”

He shifted the truck into reverse and casually draped his hand on the headrest of the passenger seat. Before stepping on the gas pedal, his fingers grazed her cheek. “I sacrificed because I know how much it turns you on.”

“How’d you know?” She smiled, admiring his strong biceps and shoulders as he backed the truck out of the parking spot. His muscles were not made from gym workouts, but from years of using his body to build and renovate many of the houses in their sleepy seaside town.

He chuckled and jerked his head toward the backseat. “That magazine of yours. Don’t you know I read it cover to cover each month before you even get your hands on it? How’d you think I learned my mad lovemaking skills?”

“Mad lovemaking skills, huh?” she snorted.

He waggled his eyebrows.

“Okay, I’ll give you that. But Tristan? You almost had me rolling on the ground with that name. Where’d you come up with it?”

“You got me.” He shot her a sly smile. “In between Cosmo issues, I’ve become a fan of erotic romance novels. Tristan was the dude’s name from the last one I read.”

“You? Romance novels?” she asked and giggled. “Next thing I know you’ll want to join my book club. I’ve never pegged my handsome contractor husband as a romance book reader.”

“Only for you, baby. Which reminds me—“ He reached behind his seat and pulled out a wrapped single rose. “—Unfortunately, there wasn’t a dahlia to be found at the train station. You couldn’t name yourself Rose, could you?”

She took the long stemmed red rose from his hand. “Dahlia’s more adventurous, don’t you think?”

“Ever since I married you, it’s been one adventure after another. First, you scared the crap out of me by having your cop friend arrest me so that we could get down and dirty in a jail cell and now this,” he said with a chuckle.

“I didn’t hear you complaining at the time.” She giggled.

“You’ll never hear a complaint from me, Alexis Winters. So, what’s it going to be next Christmas?”

“I say we join the mile high club.”

“You’re reading my mind,” he said, lifting the back of her palm to his lips.

Copyright © 2012 Sandra Bunino. All Rights Reserved.

Are you in the holiday spirit yet?

Good, because there’s more, lots more! Second Chance Layover kicks off Thursday evening (or Friday morning, depending on where you are)! Lila Shaw and I will run an installment every weekday until Christmas Eve. Be sure to catch it each day because we’ll run a fun little contest too!

Get ready…it’s going to be a sexy ride!

xoxo

~S

First there was Thelma and Louise…

Two years ago I took a step into the murky waters of social media in search of information about publishing. I’d written a steamy romance story and had no idea what to do next. I lurked and even stalked a few writers (weird how stalking is encouraged on SM) and discovered a weekly writing challenge meme, the now defunct Six Sentence Sunday. So, what the heck, I started a blog and began posting my work. I knew I would make contacts and hopefully even receive some guidance. What I never thought I’d find were friends.

But friends are what I found in this close circle. Some have disappeared into social media oblivion (funny how that happens), some I keep in touch with occasionally, and some have remained close to me. I even had the opportunity to meet a few during my travels which has been an awesome experience. One person in particular, the wonderful Lila Shaw, and I clicked from the beginning. Our mutual book boyfriend love for Jamie Fraser of Outlander, our similar careers and our almost-published status kept us DMing each other on a daily basis. Even though she’s on the opposite side of the country, the time difference works for us. I’m a night owl and she’s up before the crack of dawn. We laugh because if I lived there and she lived here we probably would never cross social media paths as we’d never be awake at the same time!

I had the opportunity to meet Lila for the first time at last year’s RWA Conference and she was just as genuine and lovely in person as she is online. We’d always talked about collaborating on a project together so I was thrilled when she agreed to co-author a blog serial with me this year. Those who have been following my blog for a while may remember my 2012 blog serial, The Train Ride. I posted it weekly for the five weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Well, guess what? This year’s serial will post each weekday from November 28th through December 24th! That’s seventeen installments and you won’t want to miss a single day. Trust me!

Anyway, I’d like to thank Lila for working on this project with me. We had a ton of laughs including figuring out how to Skype (I had to solicit my 15 YO’s help each time which was met with an eye roll each time), designing the graphics (thank goodness for Lila’s photoshop abilities), and getting into the heads of our H/h, Cal and Charli. The co-writing process was incredible. I looked forward to the twists and turns she added and I continued. Our styles meshed well and it got to a point where I couldn’t tell where I ended and she started.

I hope you’ll join us for each installment of Second Chance Layover. Get ready…it’s going to be a sexy ride.

The serial will run on both our blogs, so be sure to follow Lila’s blog as well. While you’re there, check out her books too! She’s pretty awesome.

 

Mid Week Tease: Fighting the Fear #NaNoWriMo #MWTease

It’s teasing time again. I’m joined by a few of my #NaNoWriMo warriors so be sure to hop over to see what they’re working on too. It’s been a crazy month but I’m happy to say, I’m on target to hit 50K by Nov. 30th. If I can, it’ll be my first #NaNoWriMo win.

In this unedited scene, Hunter brings Michelle to his gym to teach her self defense.

Hunter took a few steps to her, closing the gap and sucking the air from her. His scent, a mixture of city air and soap, filled her head. He leaned over and his breath played with the stray hair around her hear. “I think you have a lot in you. There’s a fire waiting to be released. Don’t be afraid of it. Let it go.”

She shook her head. “I’m tired of being afraid,” she whispered.

Hunter stepped back. “Then don’t be. Do something about it.”

She furrowed her brows. “You think hitting inanimate objects is doing something about it?”

“Yeah. I do. Like I said, I know something about this. Now give it a try. But really try this time. Put the energy you use in your painting into your punches. Think of the thing you fear the most and push it through your fists. Like this.” Hunter squared his body to the bag next to hers and punched with his right fist as the chains holding the bag creaked from the impact. She watched as his muscles flexed through the punch.

“Let’s see it Michelle. Tune everything else out like you do when you paint. It’s just you, your fear and that bag. Pretend you’re pushing it out of your body and into the bag.”

Michelle took a deep breath pulling the raw stench of the gym into her lungs. It may work, she’d tried everything else. What the hell. Swallowing hard, she leveled her body to the bag and closed her eyes. The darkness summonsed the visions that came to her so easily in the dark. The breath laced with vodka and beer blew into her face. Sweaty hands pawed at her, pushing her against the wall. She wanted to fight back. She should’ve fought back. You wanted it Michelle. “No. No. I didn’t,” she mouthed and shook her head. Pulling back her elbow, her muscles strained and her body tightened. “No,” she said firmly and threw her first punch. The visions stayed with her pulling her in, caging her to its grime. Taking a deep breath, she threw the next punch and then another. Her legs sprang into the punch as she used the strength of her body to push through the darkness and pain. The chain rattled above and she opened her eyes.

“Good now pick a spot on the bag and concentrate on it.”

She found a spot where the threads puckered, showing a hint of the white padding of the casing. His drunken face flashed into her head. “No. I didn’t want this,” she muttered and pummeled that spot, alternating her fists. Her shoulders and upper arms burned as she continued. She beat it away. Light replaced dark and her mind stopped its endless race to escape. She was in control. For the first time in years, she had control.

 

Here’s my vision of Hunter and Michelle:

Be sure to click over to these fabulous authors who are anxious to tease you too!

Authors! Would you like to join next week’s tease? Sign up here!

Cool! The Satin Rose Experience series is up for a Readers’ Choice Award!

My wonderful publisher is hosting their First Annual Readers’ Choice Awards and my Satin Rose Experience series received two nominations – Best Series and Mia’s Submission as Best Book in the BDSM category. Two anthologies my stories are in, HIS and Vanilla-Free Christmas, also made it! Wow! What an unexpected surprise!

Click on over to see all of the fabulous books in over 30 categories. I’m in some amazing company, including Lila Shaw, Jenika Snow, Doris O’Connor, Jessica Jayne, Carlene Love Flores and more of my favorites!

Vote here! Poll closes November 30th.

    

 

 

Mid Week Tease: Fighting Demons #NaNoWriMo #MWTease

It’s teasing time again. I’m spending the week in sunny Arizona on business but have been hard at work on my #NaNoWriMo project and staying very close to target.

In this unedited scene, Hunter finds Michelle alone at the gym fighting her demons with a punching bag. Her reaction brings back memories from Hunter’s past.

“Michelle. Stop.” He grabbed her wrists.

“No! I should’ve. Why didn’t I. I should’ve fought. Back.” Her chest rose and fell as sobs wracked her body. Her arms trying to free themselves from his grip.

“Shh. Shh. Breathe, it’s okay.”

She closed her eyes and continued to fight him.

“Open your eyes, honey. You can do it.”

Open your eyes, honey. You can do it. Visions of the night that brought his world to a screeching stop rushed to his head. He stared at the blood on her knuckles and the image of Isabel’s blood rushing from her head, soaking his own t-shirt he used to try so desparately to stop it.

No. Not now. He began to shake. Dropping to his knees, he wrapped Michelle into his arms and rocked her onto his lap.

“You’ll be okay. You have to be okay.”

Isabel’s broken body flashed through his mind. Her limbs were tangled up like a rag doll going the wrong way.. He refused to look, keeping his eyes focused on her face.  He gathered her up and rocked her broken body. ‘Open your eyes, honey. You can do it,’ he remembered saying over and over again.

He tilted his head to study Michelle. She was nothing like Isabel up until the accident, Isabel was strong, happy and confident. She was going to take over the world, he’d always say. The woman in his arms was lost and broken. Someone or something took a piece of her soul.

Her eyes flicked open to meet his. “Hunter?”

“Don’t worry I have you.” He brushed away the sweat soaked strands of hair covering her eyes. Her smile brought him back to the present. Closing the space between them, he lightly brushed his lips over hers. The salty taste of sweat mixed with tears exploded on his lips. He needed more. Cradling her head in the crook of his arm, he pulled her close and coaxed her mouth with his tongue. Her hands, still wrapped in boxing tape, snaked around his neck and her fingertips raked through his hair. She parted her lips accepting his tongue, a soft moan filled his mouth. He pulled away and cupped her chin into his palm and swiping the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I wanted you to.”

Here’s my vision of Hunter and Michelle:

Be sure to click over to these fabulous authors who are anxious to tease you too!

Authors! Would you like to join next week’s tease? Sign up here!

HOT NEW RELEASE: River Reckoning by Jenny Lyn @JennyLynwrites

Today’s HOT NEW RELEASE is from Jenny Lyn and oh, boy this looks really good! It’s next on my TBR list. Read on for a steamy excerpt of River Reckoning…

BOOK SUMMARY ~ RIVER RECKONING (TROUBLE IN TRESPASS):

Bond Mason’s roots run deep in the backwoods hamlet of Trespass, Florida. Nestled against the banks of the Suwannee River, the only home she’s ever known holds bittersweet memories of a family long gone. Except one of her ghosts isn’t dead and possessive ex-lover James Kyle wants her back.

U.S. Deputy Marshal Nathan Gates sights are set on capturing fugitive Robert Kyle. Wanted for the cold-blooded murder of a DEA agent, Robert is suspected of being hidden away with his moonshine-brewing, marijuana-growing family of fellow lawbreakers, one of which is his brother, James.

Nathan expected high temperatures when he arrived in Trespass. What he hadn’t counted on is his searing attraction to southern beauty Bond Mason. She winds him around her finger like a tendril of Spanish moss, but his lawman’s intuition tells him she’s hiding secrets too. When he finally convinces her to talk, he’s not prepared for the dark truths she reveals about her hometown.

The Suwannee is deep, but Trespass’s sins run much deeper. For once, Nathan might be in over his head.

Book Cover:

Excerpt (Rated R):

Bond rolled to her knees, still smiling, as she untied the sash to her robe. She let it fall open but didn’t shrug it off her shoulders. It parted in slow motion a few inches then stopped, revealing a swath of golden skin down the center of her body, the inviting valley between her breasts and the small patch of dark trimmed curls at the apex of her toned thighs. Nathan stood motionless, taking her in as he tried to decide what he wanted to set his mouth to first.

“Nathan.” Her fingers nervously toyed with the robe’s sash. He gradually raised his gaze to hers, tearing it away from the temptation of her body. “I have a small confession to make.”

His interest was piqued. “I’m listening.”

Color flooded her cheeks. He put one knee on the mattress and kissed her jaw reassuringly. She braced her hands on his biceps, the heat of a sigh warming his ear. “Last night when you were kind of … bossy … I liked it … a lot.”

He grinned. That was some admission. His single-minded cock wholeheartedly approved. It was so hard it threatened to bust through the teeth of his zipper. “You like me telling you what to do, huh?”

She nodded. Her fingers caught the hem of his t-shirt, stripping it over his head. “I like it when you talk.”

“Last night you said I talked too much.”

“I can’t be held accountable for the things I say during incredible sex. I want you to talk.”

Incredible sex. No argument there, it had been. Tonight was going to top that.

The robe slipped off one shoulder exposing her right breast, an enticement impossible to resist. Nathan ducked his head and made a lazy circle around her nipple with the tip of his tongue. It tightened to a stiff peak. He felt her fingers slide through his hair, heard the tiny moan she made in her throat. “Dirty?” he asked against her skin.

“Anything. I want to listen, not think. I like your voice, but if you were saying naughty things it would be even better.”

He chuckled as he eased off the bed. Bond sat back on her heels, resting her hands on her thighs expectantly. “Take your hair down.”

She released the clip, allowing the dark mass to tumble free. When she shook her head, damp curls slid over her shoulders. Nathan reached out and wound a long lock around his fingers, tugging gently. “You’re stunning.” More color flooded her cheeks and neck. Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth. “Come closer.”

Rising to her knees, she scooted to the edge of the bed, pressing her chest to his. Nathan caught the lapels of her robe in his fists and pulled it down her arms, trapping them at her sides. He buried his face in her neck, trailing kisses across the tender, fragrant skin. Her scent made him drunk with desire, crazy with need. Never had he been so affected by a woman as he was by Bond. She was like some illicit drug, and he’d become a hopeless addict with one sample.

 

Author Bio:

I started reading when I was four, thanks to a babysitter who found out the only way to get me to sit still was to put a book in my hand. By the time I entered kindergarten, I’d blown through just about every Little Golden Book ever printed. Ten years later, much to my mother’s dismay, I found her stash of paperback romance novels. She tried to divert me back to something more chaste by buying me Harlequins, but I still snuck copies of her Kathleen Woodiwiss’s and Johanna Lindsey’s when she wasn’t looking. Shanna, The Flame and the Flower, and Fires of Winter will always hold special places in my heart because they introduced me to roguish heroes, headstrong heroines, and the trouble they could get into together.

I live in a swampy little corner of north-central Florida with my family, both the two-legged and four-legged variety. I love to read, run hot and cold in regards to cooking, and I never miss an episode of Justified, Longmire, or Dexter. I guess I like justice in all its various forms.

 

Purchase Links:

Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/Jenny-Lyn/e/B0078O9RAA/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1

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