By Elizabeth Shore
Many years ago I had a single title historical published called Season of Splendor that includes a love scene in which the hero and heroine have hot, dirty, sweaty sex down in the basement where the hero is shoveling coal. I loved the imagery of that scene as I played it out in my mind. The raging fire in the giant stove. The relentless heat. Bodies coated in sweat. Here’s what I wrote:
He tossed aside the shovel and walked steadily toward her. Neither of them said a word....
Published on November 10, 2015 22:00