Friday, February 27, 2009

Insatiable Part 8

That was the word that sprang to Tyler’s mind.
She was not the ice princess she pretended to be. He watched her struggling to control the fire within her. No matter what she said, she’d been hot for him. The only thing he didn’t get was why it had taken him so long to realize he was hot for her.
“We have to talk about those investments,” she said.
He tried to concentrate on work, but all he wanted to do was touch her. Especially her hair. He had such a weakness for her hair, such a fascination with it. He loved touching her hair. And now he knew what her body felt like, he wanted to touch the rest of her.
She was a peach. His eyes wandered over her as she talked to him. Her skin was soft like the fuzz of a peach. She tasted sweet, even smelled like a peach. She was sweet and juicy. Her breasts reminded him of peaches. He loved peaches.
His mind wandered from sex to food. He thought about a warm peach clafouti with luscious whipped cream, which led to the idea of licking whipped cream off Chloe’s body. Okay, sex and food were two of his favorite things.
He thought about eating Chloe. Oh man, now his boner was huge. He shifted in his chair.
“You’re a million miles away.”
“No, I’m not.” Sweet and juicy...
“Pay attention,” she said. “Joe e-mailed me possible dates for the Epicure Magazine article. Which do you prefer...the twenty-third, twenty-fifth or twenty-sixth?”
She sighed. “They’re going to do a photo shoot here at the restaurant. Morning would be better, right?”
“You do want to do it, don’t you?”
He smiled. “Oh yeah. I want to do it.”
The magazine article!”
“Oh. Yeah, sure.”
Her lips tightened. He wanted to kiss them and coax them into luscious softness. Her mouth was amazing. When she’d sat on his lap the other day and kissed him, he’d felt like he wanted to consume her, just eat her up.
“Joe is negotiating with them about final approval of the photos and article. I’ll tell him to go for the twenty-third.” She typed into her computer as they spoke.
“So what happened with Oprah?” she asked, as if suddenly remembering.
“She liked the food.” His eyes still moved over her, recalling how round and pretty her breasts were.
“That’s it?” “She mentioned having me on a show sometime. She said...” now he grinned, “...her people will call my people.”
“Tyler, that’s awesome!”
He shrugged. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“You don’t sound too thrilled.”
He lifted a shoulder again. “I’m distracted.”
She blew out a long breath, signaling her aggravation with him. “Okay, we’re done here.”
He didn’t move. He had to feel her hair. He reached out and stroked the length of it down her back. It was something he’d done hundreds of times, but he’d never felt her flinch at his touch. Something stabbed his heart at her reaction. Shit.
“It’s okay, Chloe,” he said soothingly. He stood up behind her chair and clasped her hair in a ponytail as he usually did, stroking the silky length, then running his fingers through it. What could she say? He did this all the time.
“I’ve got stuff to do in the office,” he said finally. He had to get away from her before his hands wandered further.
“How’s your hand?”
He shrugged. “It’s fine. Just another scar.” He held his hands in front of her, scarred from cuts and burns and calloused from constant use.
He didn’t want to leave her but he had so much to do: inventory, lists, calls to purveyors, ordering. He sighed and dropped a kiss to the top of her silky head.
“See you later,” he said.
He was greeted by a huge crashing noise as he walked downstairs. He hurried into the kitchen to see Alejandro standing staring in horror at a case of wine at his feet, liquid spreading on the floor beneath it.
“I dropped it.” He looked up at Tyler, aghast.
“Shit.” Tyler bent and opened the case to see what the damage was. Every goddamn bottle was broken. “Shit!” It took every ounce of restraint he had to keep himself from bellowing or even firing Alejandro on the spot. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Clean it up. This isn’t from Abby Creek, is it?”
Alejandro shook his head.
“Okay,” Tyler said tightly, “we can replace it. I’ll go call.”
When he called the wine supplier they told him they couldn’t get him another case until tomorrow. Damn. He’d have to go check the wine cellar and see what they had for tonight. The last thing they needed was guests wanting to order specific wines they didn’t have.
In the wine cellar he did a quick check and sure enough, they were low on almost every kind of Chardonnay. Tension coiled and tightened inside him as he returned to his office and called back his wine supplier.
“What can you get me today?” They had a short discussion and Tyler ended up with wine, but not what he really wanted.
He leaned his elbows on his desk and rubbed his head, an ache starting at the base of his skull. His conversation with Chloe hadn’t gone the way he wanted and now all this wasn’t helping.
He glanced at his watch. Better get back to the kitchen. A few moments later he was looking for basil in the walk-in.
“Where’s the basil?” he shouted.
Carlos appeared. “The delivery came this morning. It should be in there.” He started looking, too.
“Did you see it?” Tyler asked. “This morning?”
“Uh...I don’t remember.”
“No fucking basil! How the fuck am I supposed to make goddamnn pistou without basil?”
Carlos looked alarmed. “Don’t freak out, Chef,” he said, following Tyler back to the kitchen. “We’ll get some.”
“Damn right!” Tyler slammed saucepans onto the flattop with violent clangs.
“What’s going on?” Ryan appeared in the kitchen, having heard the noise.
“No basil,” Tyler growled.
“I’m on it.” Ryan disappeared.
“Jesus Christ,” Tyler muttered.
He was still mumbling when Chloe wandered in looking for something to eat. He was immediately aware of her, his body on high alert.
“What are you cursing about?” she asked with a faint smile.
“Somehow the delivery was missing basil. How can I make pistou without fucking basil?” “Calm down, Tyler. Has someone gone to get some? Do you want me to go?”
“Jason has gone,” Ryan interjected, on his way back to his office. “It’s being handled.”
“Okay, so it’s all good, Tyler.” She set her small hand on his shoulder and gave him a brief rub, and he felt tension ease out of him. “What can I eat?”
“There’s soup. Wild rice and mushroom.” He took a deep breath, chopped shallots and readied his mise while Chloe found a bowl and ladled soup from the big stockpot simmering.
Tyler watched her hungrily. Her beautiful serenity in the midst of the crazy, noisy kitchen drew his eyes to her, calmed him. Damn, he’d almost chopped his thumb. Focus man.
Ryan came back. “I tore a strip off Manuel,” he told Tyler. “He doesn't know what happened to the basil. I told him find out, and there’d better be basil here tomorrow or we’d fire his ass.”
Tyler nodded shortly, starting to butcher some pork loins. He knew he could count on Ryan to deal with the purveyor.
Chloe stood and carried her dishes to the dishwasher, and his eyes flickered to her.
“You’re tense, man,” Ryan said. “Anything I can do?” “No,” Tyler said shortly, his eyes following Chloe as she walked out, and he felt unreasonably annoyed. He concentrated on his work until they were well into the first turn and it was momentarily quieter.
He left the kitchen, knowing there was a little time before tables started turning and orders started coming in again. He took the stairs to Chloe’s office two at a time.
She looked like she was just getting ready to leave.
“Going home already?”
She turned to him, her lovely face expressionless. “Already? It’s nearly eight o’clock.”
“I just thought maybe when I’m done we could have a glass of wine together.”
She looked back at him and blinked. “Why?”
Now he was surprised. “Why? Uh...”
“Tyler...don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Do not even think you can get me into bed,” she said. “I know that’s all you ever think about, but go find one of your model-slash-actress girlfriends for that. I’m going home.”
She grabbed her purse.
“Got a date tonight?” he asked.
She paused, lifted her chin. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”
“Whatshisname...I mean, Michael?”
“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

What I'm Reading Wednesday

Finished "Only Pleasure" by Lora Leigh. Another very hot story.

Started "My Man Michael" by Lori Foster. Her heroine is from the 23rd century. I'm not usually into time travel stories but I love Lori Foster and I'm intrigued about what's going to happen. Will keep reading.

Also just started "The Lifestyle" by Terry Gould. This book is about “what it means to be part of a fast-growing subculture of consenting, mainstream adults who are changing the rules of sexual behaviour for pair-bonded humans.” Okay, married swingers. Research only, folks.

And - I'm not going to name the title or author of the book I read over the weekend because I am TOTALLY FREAKED OUT! I started reading this book, and there were so many similarities between it and a book I wrote about four months ago I could not believe it! There is no way this author knew anything about my story and no way I could have known anything about hers, so it's kind of freaky. As I got further into the book the similarities lessened. Her main conflict was completely different than mine, and the characters are different, too, so in the end the stories are not the same. But wow! Here I think I'm coming up with something new and fresh and different and someone else has the very same idea. But as one fellow writer pointed out, every story will be told in a different way, with a different voice, so no two stories will ever be exactly the same.

Fellow writers, has that ever happened to you?

Friday, February 20, 2009

Contest winner!

Here's the winner of a free copy of DREAM GIRL from last week's contest - Maggie J!!

Maggie please send me an email at and I'll get your prize off to you!

Thanks to all who left comments last week....and here's Insatiable Part 7... ↓

Insatiable Part 7

Chloe gasped. The gleam in Tyler’s eyes sent a shiver of excitement and fear running through her. She tightened her hands on the arms of her chair as he advanced towards her.
He stopped in front of her, legs spread, arms crossed across his chest. Baggy cargo pants hung low on his lean hips and a snug olive green t-shirt stretched across his wide chest and revealed his thick biceps.
He smiled at her, damn his gorgeous smile, then bent forward and brushed a kiss across her startled mouth. Her lips parted involuntarily and her eyes widened.
“Tyler no...” she protested, scooting her chair back from him.
“Come on Chloe,” he coaxed. “Let’s finish what you started.”
Chloe’s heartbeat kicked up a notch.
“No, no,” she said frantically. “I didn’t mean to start anything! I was just proving a point.”
He followed her backward movements until her chair hit the wall. He put his hands over hers on the armrests, trapping her there with his big body.
Dark eyes hot and glittering, he leaned closer.
“Okay, you proved your point. I didn’t really have a broken heart. See...” he grinned and patted his chest. “I’m fine. You were right.” His voice deepened and his smile turned sexy. “Come on, Chloe.”
She shook her head nervously, licking her lips.
He leaned closer yet and she could see every long eyelash around his eyes, the whiskers shadowing his lean cheeks. His citrusy, spicy scent made her dizzy.
“You proved something else, Chloe,” he said softly, his breath warm on her mouth.
“You proved you want me.” He brushed his mouth over hers again.
Oh Lord, she was melting. Again. Helplessly, foolishly melting into a puddle of lust.
She wriggled her hands out from under his, his left hand still bandaged, and pushed on his big chest. He was like a cliff, hard and immovable.
“I do not. It was just an act to get you to realize you were okay.”
He shook his head and his lips drifted across her cheek, nuzzled her ear under her long hair. She closed her eyes briefly against the onslaught of sensations. Sparks and shivers ran down her body from his lips to her womb. Helplessly, her nipples tightened and she felt herself go wet. No! Her body was betraying her. Again.
“Sweetheart, that was no act.”
“Yes! Yes, it was!” She turned her head to the side to avoid his seeking mouth. He slid his mouth down the side of her neck and his tongue came out to lick her gently. “You taste so sweet.”
Oh God. More shivers increased the aching low in her belly. Her body trembled and she fought to control it. She pushed again on his hard chest to no avail.
“Chloe,” he murmured. “You can’t fake that. You were so wet you creamed all over my jeans.”
Her heart literally stopped.
She couldn’t get air into her lungs and her mind went completely blank. She could not think of two words to string together to refute him. Mortification scorched her cheeks.
“You were hot for me,” he continued, continuing to nibble and taste her. “Admit it, Chloe.”
His ego and arrogance finally gave her strength to push harder and she slid out of the chair and under his arms, jumped to her feet and wrapped her arms around herself.
“Your ego is beyond belief, Tyler,” she said, trying to sound cool, knowing her voice still trembled.
He straightened up and looked at her. Oh, he was so, so beautiful.
She held up a hand. “Stop! We cannot do this. Have you lost your mind?”
His eyes shadowed slightly.
“Maybe I did have a...physical reaction...” she stumbled on the words. “But I was only doing that for one reason. One! Seriously, Tyler!”
She pushed her hair off her face with hands that still shook.
His eyes narrowed.
“Did you go out with whatshisname that night?” he asked tightly, out of the blue.
She stared, then nodded. “His name is Michael, for the hundredth time. We went to a party one of his clients was having at the Biltmore.”
“Did you sleep with him that night?”
Once again she was dumfounded. “That is none of your business,” she said with as much frigid disdain as she could muster.
He scowled.
“Apologize for that, Tyler.”
They stared at each other, the air in the room hot and charged with electricity.
“You can fire me if you want,” she added, tossing her hair and straightening her back.
He still stared at her, then shook his head slowly. “I don’t want to fire you, Chloe.”
She held his gaze with difficulty, resisting the urge to throw herself into his arms and take everything he offered.
“I’m sorry,” he finally growled, rubbing a hand over his face, then through his hair. It stuck up appealingly in all different directions, glossy and black.
“Let’s just get things straight here.” She took a deep breath. “We do not have a personal relationship. I apologize for what I did, too. It was a totally unacceptable way to deal with a problem. It won’t happen again. It meant nothing.”
He was watching her as she talked, his eyes shadowed, almost hurt...she shook her head.
“We need to work together, so let’s just pretend that never happened,” she said firmly.
“I don’t think I can.”

Insatiable Part 8

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

What I'm Reading Wednesday

Well I’m going to start something new on my blog – every Wednesday I’ll post what I’m reading. This kind of happened because I had to redesign my website, which is a good news/bad news kind of story. The good news is I have so many books out (or coming out) that I didn’t have room for them all on one page of my cheap...uh, I mean fiscally prudent website. So I had to lose the page where I talk about what I’m reading, which was hard to keep updated anyway.

Because I’m always reading something. I don’t plan to do a review of every book I read, but I’ll tell you what I just read, or am reading, and make some comments.

Just to get caught up – my most recent reads are:
Love Walked In – by Marisa de los Santos
Belong to Me – by Marisa de los Santos
The Four Man Plan by Cindy Lu
Tribute – by Nora Roberts

Reading now: Only Pleasure by Lora Leigh.

So…Marisa de los Santos. Her writing is beautiful. Her story is seamless. Since I’ve been writing I’m able to predict story lines with finger-snapping regularity. Not this time. In Belong to Me, she totally smacked me in the side of the head. When I went back, the clues were all there…but so subtle and seamless I didn’t see them. I LOVE that. I ADMIRE that. So much that I am now paralyzed by inferiority. There is no possible way I can ever write anything so good, so why bother even trying? (Which is why I don’t play golf. There’s no way I’ll ever hit that ball 150 yards straight, so why bother even trying? Oops. I hear my mother’s voice about my piano playing – no wait, that’s my voice, talking to my daughter about her piano playing – “ practice makes perfect”. Aaaaagh. )

Tribute – it’s Nora. She tells a great story. I loved it. I loved the house. I loved the hero – so untraditional – the woman is the one who wields tools and builds houses, the man can’t even pick up a tool without hurting someone. He’s a geek but he’s still strong and masculine- love it.

Only Pleasure – Lora! What’s with the headhopping???? Maybe I never noticed this before. But I still love you.

My TBR pile – okay these days with digital books it’s not so much a pile, although I do have several Harlequin Blaze books waiting to be read, thanks to editorial assistant Laura Barth at Harlequin, who rewarded me for a good deed with free books! Thanks Laura!

I’ve been downloading free Valentine’s reads from Harlequin and Samhain and the Romance Divas. The only one I’ve actually read so far is OWNED by Nara Malone at the Romance Divas . Okay, I confess, it’s because she’s my critique partner. This story is amazing. I couldn’t even critique it because it’s way beyond my level. (Another incident of being paralyzed by inferiority.) She has been experimenting with flash fiction and put together this creative, innovative, evocative story that will blow your mind. Check it out!

Friday, February 13, 2009

Release day! Having a contest...

Today my book Dream Girl comes out with The Wild Rose Press! To celebrate, I'm giving away a free PDF copy - anyone who comments on INSATIABLE Part 6 this week is entered to win. I'll draw the winner Thursday evening February 19.


“This amber ale just won the silver medal at the Great American Beer Festival,” Zach Montgomery told Tyler. Zach was the brew master at Surf Coast Brewery just down the coast in Rocky Harbor. He’d been making quite a name for himself, winning awards like crazy with his quality beers. “It’s excellent with steaks, chicken, pasta...”
Tyler studied the glass of ale he’d just tasted – beautiful amber color, and a rich caramel malt flavor. “I want to serve this beer in the restaurant. You can talk to my restaurant manager, Ryan. He handles business details. And I’d like to try some of your other products, too.”
Zach grinned. “Great. Thanks.”
Tyler caught the interest from his female restaurant staff as they watched him talk to Zach. Since Zach had walked into Insatiable, they’d been hanging around making a pretense of folding napkins and setting tables. The big blonde guy had a surfer-dude air about him and a quick, charming grin. Tyler shook his head and called to Lola.
“Can you go find Ryan, Lola?”
She disappeared with a last look at Zach. A few moments later Ryan joined them. Immaculately dressed as usual in elegant pants, a crisp shirt and silky tie, he was as meticulous and detail-oriented about his appearance as he was about managing the restaurant, and Tyler appreciated that.
“I’ll let you two talk business,” Tyler said. “I have to check things out in the kitchen and then make some calls. When are you heading back to Rocky Harbor?”
Zach shrugged.
“Let’s have lunch after,” Tyler suggested. “You can tell more about your brewery.”
“Sounds great.”
Tension coiled in Tyler, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he walked to the kitchen, thinking about everything he had to do. This was where he wanted to be – in his kitchen, At the stove, he dipped a spoon into a pot of simmering sauce. “Damn, that’s good.” He nodded his approval.
Tyler watched Jon chop vegetables with precise speedy moves, his knife thunking on the cutting board. Jon had been a line cook for a few years and was developing into a fine chef, but sometimes Tyler worried that he wasn’t enough of a perfectionist. He really tried hard, though. A good worker in the kitchen was nothing to complain about.
“Make those leeks a little finer.”
“They’re good, Chef.”
“They’re not perfect. They have to be perfect.”
Jon nodded and kept slicing.
Carlos called from across the kitchen.
Tyler strode over to him. “What’s up?”
Carlos had worked as Tyler’s sous-chef for years. Although they shared the same intense passion for food, neither took it too seriously. It had to be fun for them. They had the same flowing, economical moves that allowed them to work together in a tight kitchen, moving as if they were doing a graceful, choreographed dance. And Carlos was capable of running the show during the frequent times Tyler was away “Check out these tomatoes.”
Tyler picked up a tomato in each hand, hefted their weight, squeezed gently, then sniffed, eyes closed with sensuous pleasure.
“Where’d we get these?” he asked. “Manuel?”
Carlos nodded. “They’re the best I’ve seen this summer.”
“Perfect. Let’s get some more. I’ll do a tarte – tomatoes and goat cheese and some of those awesome Sevallanos from Santa Ynez Olives. Yeah.”
That started him thinking about a pasta special for the day and he strode to his office. He threw himself down into the chair behind his desk and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen, started thinking, scribbling ideas, creating. He loved thinking about food and creating new combinations, loved intense tastes and combining them in ways so that you could taste them together and separately at the same time. Pine nuts and dried currants...saffron... They had lots of fennel left. Add some anchovies and onion, some of those tomatoes...that would be awesome.
After the conference call with two staffers from the Food Network to plan his upcoming appearance on a television special, he spoke to his agent. As usual, Joe had a few things on the go. Tyler’s cookbook had been released a few months earlier, resulting in a flurry of publicity appearances all over the country. He was still inundated with requests for book signings, cooking demos and more TV appearances.
“Leno wants you on his show,” Joe said.
Jesus. Should he be happy? Or overwhelmed? Hell, it was getting to be a lot. Sometimes lately he was away so much it felt like it wasn’t even his restaurant any more. That familiar pressure built inside his chest.
“Okay.” He pushed aside his weariness and reservations. What was happening to him? He used to love doing TV. He’d never had a problem with attention - only if he wasn’t getting any. Centre of attention, life of the party, the star...that was him. And yet that feeling of being squeezed, out of control, kept mounting in him.
Life had become so damn complicated lately. He’d always managed to deal with stress by having sex. Lots of sex. But after what had happened with Chloe, sex was only making things more complicated. Dammit.
“And Epicure Magazine wants to do an article about you. They want you on the cover. I’m trying to set something up later this month.”
“They’ll come to you,” Joe said. “I’ll work with Chloe to find a good time.”
“Okay. She knows my schedule.”
And speaking of Chloe, he had to go face her. He hadn’t seen her since that little stunt at his place Saturday afternoon.
He bounded up the stairs to her office and she turned to face him as he strode in. As usual, she was all serene composure, her long blonde hair hanging in a silky curtain down her back. But the flicker in her pretty blue eyes told him she felt...something.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked immediately.
He stared at her.
“Hell, no,” he said. “I want to thank you.”
Her eyes widened fractionally.
“You did what you had to, to get me here. Thank Christ. Oprah was here and I was acting like an ass.”
“I shouldn’t have done that,” she murmured.
He shrugged and grinned, moved closer to her. “But it was so much fun. The only problem was - you stopped too soon.”

Insatiable Part 7

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Bad Sex in Writing Awards!

I blogged about this last year, and it’s that time again! The Bad Sex in Writing awards! Since I write a lot about sex, I’m interested in these awards. And I’m especially horrified by the winners.

In 2008, two prizes were awarded. The 16th annual Bad Sex in Fiction Award went to Rachel Johnson, for a passage from her book Shire Hell, while a Lifetime Achievement Award went to John Updike, whose The Widows of Eastwick garnered him a fourth consecutive nomination. John Updike was one of the winners I wrote about last year- year - check out last year's winner. I have to say I’m disappointed in the 2008 winners. They’re not actually as disturbing as last year's.

Here are some excerpts from the 2008 winners:

Shire Hell, by Rachel Johnson (Penguin Books).

Almost screaming after five agonizingly pleasurable minutes, I make a grab, to put him, now angrily slapping against both our bellies, inside, but he holds both my arms down, and puts his tongue to my core, like a cat lapping up a dish of cream so as not to miss a single drop. I find myself gripping his ears and tugging at the locks curling over them, beside myself, and a strange animal noise escapes from me as the mounting, Wagnerian crescendo overtakes me. I really do hope at this point that all the Spodders are, as requested, attending the meeting about slug clearance or whatever it is.

Okay, cat lapping at cream is major cliché. And yeah, I always think about slugs while having sex.

The Widows of Eastwick, by John Updike (Hamish Hamilton).
She said nothing then, her lovely mouth otherwise engaged, until he came, all over her face. She had gagged, and moved him outside her lips, rubbing his spurting glans across her cheeks and chin. He had wanted to cry out, sitting up as if jolted by electricity as the spurts, the deep throbs rooted in his asshole, continued, but he didn't know what name to call her. 'Mrs Rougement' was the name he had always known her by. God, she was antique, but here they were. Her face gleamed with his jism in the spotty light of the motel room, there on the far end of East Beach, within sound of the sea. The rhythmic relentless shushing returned to their ears. She laid her head on the pillow and seemed to want to be kissed. Well, why not? It was his jism. Having got rid of it, there was an aftermath of sorrow in which he needed to be alone; but there was no getting rid of her. 'Call me Sukie,' she said, having read his mind. 'I sucked your cock.'
'You sure did. Thanks. Wow.'

This is so romantic - gagging, a woman who is antique, the jism gleaming in the spotty light. Ah.

Brida, by Paulo Coelho (Harper Collins).
Okay, you know what? I couldn’t even make much fun of this one. I’ve read way worse.

To Love, Honour and Betray, by Kathy Lette (Bantam Press).
This line is particularly memorable:
Sebastian's erect member was so big I mistook it for some sort of monument in the centre of a town. I almost started directing traffic around it.

Okay that's a metaphor that's really strained.

So I was thinking of posting an excerpt of my own to compare to these winners and you know what? Every excerpt I pulled out of context suddenly didn’t seem quite so…impressive. Which goes to show you, even though these excerpts seem really, really bad, in context they might be…not so bad. .

Friday, February 6, 2009

Insatiable Part 5


Tyler threw open the bathroom door then slammed it shut behind him. He turned on the shower and stepped into it fully clothed, the cold water a shocking jolt to his overheated body. He flattened both palms on the tiled wall and leaned there, arm muscles rigid. The icy water ran over his back, drenching his clothing, turning it to a frigid weight on his body. He sucked in deep breaths through gritted teeth.
He could not believe what had just happened. He loved flirting with Chloe and touching her, but he didn’t think about her that way. She had a boyfriend, for Chrissake, and he needed her too much to scare her away with sexual advances. Although she’d instigated it.
He slammed a palm against the wall and closed his eyes. Jesus, he should fire her ass for doing that. After a few more deep breaths, though, he knew he couldn’t.
As his scattered thoughts came together, jelling in the brisk downpour, he contemplated her little act. She’d said it was an act - but how could she have faked that kind of reaction? She’d been hot, desperate – wet. You couldn’t fake that. And there was no denying his own red hot reaction. He groaned again.
Shivers quaked his body. He reached over and cranked the tap off, stripped off his wet clothes and left them lying in the shower, then strode naked from the bathroom to his bedroom. If Chloe saw him – oh well.
He dragged on a pair of black pants and a white T-shirt and returned to the living room, every muscle tense, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. Chloe handed him a cup of coffee. Oh yeah. Coffee. He took it from her without a word and gulped it. Strong and black, just how he liked it. She knew how he liked it. Jesus. He drank again, the coffee scalding his tongue.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m so furious I’d like to turn you over my lap and spank your ass.”
“Promises, promises.”
A jolt of heat speared through him at her words and he stared at her.
“Okay, let’s go,” she said, picking up her purse. “I’ll drive.”
When they arrived at the restaurant, she pulled up out front and stopped. “Aren’t you coming in?”
She shook her head. “I have a date tonight.” What! Hot fury spiked inside him again. He gripped the door handle so tightly his fingers hurt. She was all primed and hot, thanks to him, and she was going out with someone else? Probably whatshisname...Michael. Unbelievable! ”Relax, Tyler.” She put a hand on his upper arm. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He slammed out of the car and stalked into the restaurant.

* * *

When Michael picked her up that evening, Chloe still felt edgy and hot. Her pelvic area still had a full achiness and her inner muscles clenched every time she thought back to sitting on Tyler’s lap.
This would be the night. She and Michael were going to have sex. It would take that edge off and let her get back to her normal serene self.
One of Michael’s clients hosted the elegant cocktail party at the Biltmore. Whenever Chloe mentioned to other guests what she did for a living, people wanted to hear about Tyler.
“He is so sexy!” one woman gushed. “Those eyes are incredible! I saw him on TV the other night.”
Chloe smiled, feeling Michael tense beside her. When the couple moved off, Chloe sipped her drink and looked at Michael, his lips pressed together, brows drawn down.
She sighed. “What is it, Michael?”
He gave his head a slight shake and his forehead smoothed. “Nothing at all,” he said. “Let’s go talk to Jim and Barbara. I need to set up a golf game with him.”
She let him lead her through the crowd, smiling and greeting people. As he chatted with Jim she excused herself to find the ladies’ room. On her way back, she paused in the hallway outside the party and slipped her cell phone out of her bag.
“Good evening, Insatiable,” Lola purred. “Hi, it’s Chloe.” She paused. “Is everything okay there?”
“Everything is great!” Lola gave a big sigh. “Tyler is here and he’s on fire tonight!”
“Did Oprah show up?” “Yes! It’s so exciting! She’s here now. She wanted to meet him and he came out and talked to her, and he’s cooking for her right now. You know him; it’s got to be perfect.”
Chloe sighed and her tense muscles relaxed. “Okay, good. Just wanted to make sure he was there and doing okay.”
“You did it again,” Lola said. “What would we do without you, Chloe?”
Chloe smiled just as Michael appeared in the hall. He frowned at seeing her on the phone.
“Gotta go,” she said to Lola. “Bye.”
“Who were you talking to?”
“Lola. At the restaurant.” She snapped the tiny phone closed and tucked it in her bag. “Just making sure everything is okay there.”
“Christ, Chloe, can’t you leave that place for an hour?” She gazed at him, not really surprised at his sharp tone.
“Is it a problem if I check in at work?”
“You’re always checking in. You practically live there. And when you’re not there, you can’t stop talking about”
It was Tyler. She’d always sensed it.
“You sound...jealous.”
“Oh for God’s sake! I am not jealous,” he snapped. “Sometimes I would like your undivided attention. I want you, Chloe. Why are you holding back on me?”
She stared at him. She’d known this was coming.
“I’d like to go home now,” she said quietly.
He didn’t move.
“Chloe...I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pressure you. Let’s go back to your place and talk.”
She nodded and he went to get her wrap. She’d planned to sleep with Michael tonight. But that was before what had happened that afternoon with Tyler.
At her place, she let Michael follow her in, her stomach tight, her mind a whirl of crazy thoughts. She hated having all these...feelings. Feelings just got you in trouble.
She dropped her wrap and bag on the small table in the entrance of her small house. Then she turned to Michael, stepped closer to him and wound her arms around his neck. She pulled his head down to hers for a kiss, pressing her body against his long, lean length.
His arms went around her, his mouth opened on hers, hot and demanding, and he kissed her back.
She wanted to respond. She wanted to feel the same thrilling excitement she’d experienced that afternoon on Tyler’s lap. She wanted to burn up, melt down...but it wasn’t happening.
She felt nothing.
After a moment, Michael lifted his head. He looked at her. “What’s wrong, Chloe? Are you really mad at me?”
She shook her head and stepped back, out of his arms.
“I’m sorry, Michael. This isn’t going to work.”
“Okay, you’re not ready. I’ll wait. I’m patient.”
She shook her head again, slowly. “It’s never going to work. I’m sorry.”
He stared at her, his face tight. “You know he’ll never want you.”
“It’s not like that!”
But he turned and slammed out of her front door.
Lord, what had she done? She’d only wanted to show Tyler what an ass he was and get him back to his restaurant to avoid a disaster. Now everything was turned upside down. Her calm and organized life was a storm of emotion and the turbulence inside her terrified her.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Velentine's Day Contest

My Samhain editor is having a Valentine’s Contest at her blog Editor Tera’s blog .

Here’s how it works. Every day a new author will post an excerpt of their story, you write how you think the scene should play out (up to two hundred and fifty words). A winner will be chosen from each of the entries that day, and a grand prize winner will be drawn on the 14th.
Here are the participating authors and the books they will be posting from.

February 3, 2009 = Danielle Devon, Divinity in Chains
February 4, 2009 = T.A. Chase, Out of Bounds
February 5, 2009 = Rita Oberlies, The Catcher and the Lie
February 6, 2009 = Kimberly Nee, Eden’s Pass
February 7, 2009 = Dawn Brown, Living Lies
February 8, 2009 = Lexi Adair, Rockstar
February 9, 2009 = Avery Beck, Sexy by Design
February 10, 2009 = Angelle Trieste, Devil Falls
February 11, 2009 = Lissa Matthews, Pink Buttercream Frosting
February 12, 2009 = Denise Belinda McDonald, Second Chances
February 13, 2009 = Kelly Jamieson, Friends with Benefits

It’s going to be a lot of fun, so be sure to check it out!!

Monday, February 2, 2009

Party on the river!

Yesterday I attended The Longest Soul Rhythm Hip Hop Pied Pier Skate Dance Party Parade in the World, which was held on the longest skating rink in the world. It was awesome! DJ's cranked out tunes as the parade, led by two police officers on ATVs followed by a Zamboni and a few tractors and lots of skaters, traveled the 9.34 kilometer stretch of skating rink on the river. It runs right by our home so we joined in near the end. We skated along with them for about one kilometer, and at the end of the trail they had a big fire going (yes on the river!) hot chocolate and cookies.
Yes it's been #&$% cold here this winter, but here is one of the good things about it!