To find out more about these books, click on the links above--Werewolves and Stand-Alones. Read excerpts, reviews, and more!
This month's topic is about deleting scenes-- Do you ever delete scenes? When and why do you delete them? And what do you do with them? Do you save them? Or just toss them? When I was first published, I viewed every word I wrote as a child of mine. The idea that an editor wanted me to change words, or, (heavens!) omit words, let alone a scene, made me think that person had no idea what they were doing! Then I had a few editors suggest changes that actually improved the flow of my stories. That made me remember back to when I'd write articles for a newsletter put out by the local chapter of a Moms-at-home group that I belonged to--I got quite a few essays published in it. But the editor, who was a mom-at-home like me, but who had been an actual editor for a publisher in her past life, or as we called it, BC (before children) told me I was a good writer in need of a good editor. I thought she had to be mistaken. But was it possible she was right? I've had editors suggest that I omit scenes. If I can see why, and agree it would be a positive change, I've done it. More usually, I rewrite the scene, to make it fit the story arc better. But I wouldn't save the scene, unless it involved a supporting character, who I feel might be the heroine or hero of the next book in a series. There was one time, however, that I argued with the editor and refused to leave out a chapter-long scene. In Recipe For Love, the second Reyes Romance, the main romance in this book is about Patti, the owner of the small cafe called Patti's Place seen here, and J.T., the biker on the cover. Seems her bestie, Tegan, the heroine in the first book, Never Too Old For the Game of Love, is now pregnant and getting married to her man. But Patti is not only the maid-of-honor, she's the caterer. She hires J.T. to help her cook. He really heats up her kitchen! But Tegan met Alejandro Reyes through her friend Juanita Reyes, who is married to his brother Edgar. Once Tegan has her baby, Juanita and Edgar visit her in the hospital. I based their reaction to holding a new baby on something I actually experienced. So I had to give Juanita and Edgar their own chapter called Comfort Food. Edgar seduces Juanita in their car, begging her to have another baby, to add to their family--because that's how seeing a newborn affects both of them. Since they weren't the focus of the story, the editor argued that chapter needed to be left out. But I told her Juanita and Edgar felt they weren't asking for much--their romance didn't need to be told in an entire book--they were content to be supporting characters. But since all they wanted was a chapter, I felt I owed it to them. I refused to drop it. The chapter is still in the book. And I got to feel silly trying to explain to someone how I have to listen to the voices in my head--lest they stop talking and I won't be able to write anymore! Here's an excerpt from that chapter-- It was dark by the time Juanita and Edgar left the hospital. They had just gotten into the car when Edgar burst into gales of laughter. He laughed until there were tears in his eyes and said, in gasping breaths, things like,“Did you see his face? He’s acting like no one ever had a baby before! When he said he had no idea it was so hard to have a baby, I thought I was gonna have to leave the room so I didn’t laugh right in his face!” Juanita let him laugh, then she patted his shoulder. “Let it go, Edgar. It’s not really that funny.” She eyed him thoughtfully. “I’m just glad you kept a straight face while he raved on and on about how wonderful his son is.” Edgar turned to look at her. “After all of these years, after all of the abuse he has heaped on me, saying things like: Don’t you two have any other hobbies? and calling us breeders, I’m not supposed to be able to enjoy seeing him acting like such an idiot?” Juanita shook her head. “He’s not acting like an idiot. He’s in love…with his first son and with his wife. Leave him alone and let him enjoy it.” Edgar started the car, turned the heat on, then started to drive. “You mean, you forgive him for all of these years while we were having babies and he never thought it was any big deal? That never bothered you?” Juanita nodded. “Yes, I forgive him.” She shook her head. “He didn’t know what he was missing, or how empty his life was. He was the one missing out on one of the best experiences of life. How could I get upset with his snarky comments when he didn’t know any better?” Edgar chuckled. “Well, he knows better now. Did you see the look on his face when he got to change his first diaper? You’d have thought he was being given the most precious gift in the world instead of a diaper full of baby poop. Honestly, he looks like a love-sick puppy dog. And not anything like my always-in-control oldest brother. I guess he may be the oldest, but he’s always been a slow learner about what’s really important in life, huh?” Juanita nodded. “I’m just glad he finally found someone to love, someone who loves him back. They belong together, and now they have a baby to keep them tied together. I’m happy for all of them.” Edgar pulled into the driveway in front of his brother’s empty house and Juanita turned to him questioningly. He turned off the car unhooked his seatbelt and hers, then pulled her roughly over to him for a long kiss, involving dueling tongues and groping hands. His urgency surprised her. He moved his mouth over her ear and whispered into it. “Let’s make another baby, cariña. I want you more than ever, my love…mi querida.” Juanita smiled at her impetuous husband, who was in the process of trying to undo the buttons on her shirt. “Here? In the car? Now? Are you crazy?” Edgar nodded. “Crazy for you, mi bonita ‘Nita. The only woman I have ever loved.” Juanita touched his hand. “Edgar, my love, we agreed, no more babies. Seven was the last, you said.” “No,” he said softly, while he continued to undo her clothing, “That was what you said. I only went along with it to keep you happy.” His tongue traced a path from her mouth to her ear, then down her neck to the breasts he had freed from their bra and now held in his hands; he licked, then sucked at each one in turn, and smiled up at the soft sighs Juanita was making as she still tried to hold out against him. “Uno mas…one more baby, ‘Nita. Then I promise, I’ll get myself fixed.” She shook her head, looking dazed. “You said that the last time, then you didn’t.” He smiled at her, kissing her eyelids. “I had my fingers crossed that time. Seven is such an odd number, my love. Let’s make it an even eight; then we’ll stop, I promise.” ************************* How do other authors feel about this subject? Find out by hopping along! Anne Stenhouse http://annestenhousenovelist.wordpress.com Dr. Bob Rich https://wp.me/p3Xihq-2n4 Skye Taylor http://www.skye-writer.com/blogging_by_the_sea Connie Vines http://mizging.blogspot.com/ Marci Baun http://www.marcibaun.com/blog/ Victoria Chatham http://www.victoriachatham.com Beverley Bateman http://beverleybateman.blogspot.ca/ Helena Fairfax http://www.helenafairfax.com/blog Rhobin L Courtright http://www.rhobincourtright.com
My previous post announces that for the month of July, I'm participating in the Smashwords summer/winter sale. Secret Lover is free for this month only! The sequel, Undercover Lovers, is 99 cents for July.
Do you like spy stories, but hate that the only females are eye-candy, or rewards for the hero? And right after he beds them, they get killed? Me too! So I wrote a couple of books about female agents--find out more here-- www.smashwords.com/books/byseries/48271 The first book is Secret Lover. Sheena has been an agent for many years. She knows the rules--never use your real name, never see a lover more than once, and never, ever develop feelings. It's far too dangerous and can get you both killed. Excerpt set-up--She sees a sexy man in a bar in Berlin while she's relaxing in-between assignments. She's vaguely aware that he's an action movie star. He's also part Native American, so he's tall, dark-skinned, with long, silky black hair. And he's watching her too. She begins her seduction that ends with her bringing him upstairs to a "company" apartment. She tells him she's his until she has to report for work again in a few days. He's so hard he can't think straight, so he agrees to her rules. He let out a low groan as she led him into the bedroom, and he took in the king-sized bed with the mirrors all around it. "Then if we only have a few days, we'd better get going right now!" He threw his jacket on the floor, then sat on the bed. Pulling her close, he nibbled at her lips, while she stood in front of him and quivered. His hands started at her thighs, then massaged their way up to the top of the zipper for her dress. He pulled the zipper down, then slowly slid the dress off of her shoulders, down her body, to reveal the matching lace bra, garters and thong that she wore underneath it. "Wait." He was panting, leaning his head against her breasts, trying to concentrate enough to make coherent words come out. "Birth control. I have condoms with me. Do we need them?" Pleased at his thoughtfulness, she smiled, looking him in the eye when he gazed up at her. "No, we don't. I'm on the pill, and it's a special, proto-type thing, that also has disease-fighting properties. All of my recent STD tests were negative, so as long as you are okay with that, it’s enough for me." "Good!" He groaned as he lay back on the bed, pulling her on top of him again, while he fumbled at the clasp for her bra. When he had it undone, she sat up, straddling him as he pulled her bra off. She ground herself on his erection, ignoring the almost painful feeling of the zipper cutting into her, as she pulled off his shirt, then leaned over to lick and suck at his nipples. His hands were busy on her body, then he pushed her over, to hold her hands over her head, as he bent his head down to allow his tongue to explore each breast. "I get the feeling you are used to being in control, Lenora," he said in a low voice. "But so am I. So what do we do? Who's in charge now?" He was making her moan and squirm, his mouth fastened on one nipple. He alternately licked, suckled, and bit at her nipple, while twisting the other one gently, then with more force, varying the pressure on both. He had let go of her hands to concentrate on her breasts. She got busy with those hands. She slid them into his pants, and kneaded his butt cheeks. So hard, so firm, and so strong! Then she pulled her hands out and pushed at him, to get him to lift his hips enough for her to work at the zipper that had been digging into her. Once she had it undone, she slid his pants down and was finally able to grasp his swollen cock. The size of it increased her feeling of anticipation, while the time and attention he was giving to foreplay promised a sensitive and attentive lover--something she had not had in a very long time. He hesitated now, looking deeply into her eyes. "Last one naked has to be on the bottom?" With a smile she pushed him off of her, and quickly tore off her thong, leaving the garter belt and nylons still on. His pants tossed off into the corner, he reached for her again, the look in his eyes almost feral as he crawled towards her, then positioned himself between her legs, and began to rub himself against her. Feeling her slick and ready for him, he firmly grabbed both of her hips, and steadily pushed his way into her hot core. She came almost immediately. * * * * Her quick response seemed to surprise him, the spasms of her inner muscles causing him to almost lose his tenuous control over his own instincts. He pulled back and pounded himself into her over and over, drawing himself almost all of the way out then slamming back into her. Each time he filled her again, he felt her quiver into another orgasm. He grunted with his efforts, dug his fingers into her butt cheeks, and gritted his teeth, to try to regain control over himself, but the battle was already lost. He threw his head back and howled, as his orgasm made him spasm repeatedly inside of her, the hot come forcing itself higher and higher into her. Yet still he shook and trembled, in tune with her multiple orgasms. * * * * She rode his orgasm, spiraling into yet more and more for herself, screaming out her pleasure. Finally he collapsed onto her, and she lay almost unconscious. She was aware that she could barely breathe, but was not able to complain about it, since she was still having smaller orgasm-spasms that made her whimper and clench herself around his still-formidable, semi-erect manhood. *********** What's better than a sale? How about FREE? Yes, that's right, the first of my female spy novels is free during the month of July at Smashwords! You can download in any format you desire. And leaving a review there is a nice way to say "thanks" to the author! Blurb: Sheena has been a secret agent for many years. She's always enjoyed the freedom of being sent all over the world, helping to keep others safe. But when she has a liaison in Berlin with Cory, a famous actor of Native American descent, she's horrified to realize she's fallen in love with him. In her business, having feelings is dangerous. Falling in love can be deadly! And the sequel is on sale for half-price, so for only .99 you can read both of these books! What are you waiting for? What do you see on this cover? A woman who is torn between two hot men? Yup. But also a woman whose body and psyche have been scarred by what she endured at the hands of a serial killer of female agents. When a close friend of hers was his latest victim, Ameena volunteered to bring him down by using herself as bait. But in the spy business, things don't always go as planned--help might be coming, but will it get there in time? Blurb: Ameena has never been able to forget what she endured on her last assignment before she left the agency. The only female agent to live through what The Executioner did to his victims, she still bears the scars, both physical and psychological. When he escapes from his prison cell, her former handler brings two agents with him, telling her that one or the other will be her shadow, until her torturer is caught again. Having kept herself too busy for romance, she is caught off-guard by the sudden insertion into her life of two hot, sexy men, one who actively pursues her, and one whom she finds more attractive for his shyness. Does she choose between them, or enjoy them both? Will she live long enough to make a choice? And once she does, will she get a HEA? When the man she chooses is captured while on his last assignment, she needs to recruit a team to rescue him. But she needs one more team member--the man she rejected. There's only one offer she can make to him, that might convince him--only one thing he wants from her. Set-up for excerpt--Malcolm is in both books. He's Ameena's handler from her spy days. He surprises her with a call, saying he has to meet with her. She insists he meet her at work, because she's the choreographer for a music video that's already late. He walks in with two other man, and they see her dancing on stage, demonstrating the moves for the song. She calls for a break and motions for the men to follow her. All three men followed her into the office and watched as she carefully shut the door behind them. She turned to see that, as usual, Malcolm had turned a chair backwards and was sitting on it, leaning on the back of the chair. One man leaned against the wall behind Malcolm, and the other man perched on the edge of one of the desks. Ameena walked over to the other desk and leaned against it as she spoke. "So, what's going on, Malcolm? It's not that I'm not happy to see you, but I'm wondering what's the reason for this visit. It's not a social call, is it? If it was, you wouldn't have brought muscle with you." Malcolm nodded gravely. "It's good to see you also, Ameena, but you're right. We have a situation, and you need to be informed. You need to meet the boys now, because one or the other is going to be your shadow for the near future. Until this whole thing plays out." He waved toward the tall, Hispanic-looking man behind him. "This is Tomás Escobedo. Don't let the earring, the punk blond streak in his hair, or the fatuous look of boredom fool you. Nothing escapes him. He's very good at what he does." Ameena nodded at the man, managing a tight grin in response to his seductive smile. "That was some dancing you were doing out there." He spoke in a low drawl, with just a hint of an accent of some kind. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were a Latina, based on your dancing. I'd love to see more of your moves." Ameena's smile widened just a little bit. "I'm sure you would. And I can tell what your assignments usually involve already. Don't waste your time, honey. It takes one to know one. We're two of a kind." He deliberately let her see him looking her up and down, smiling at what he saw. She shook her head and turned back to Malcolm. He waved towards the other man, who was leaning against the desk. He had been staring at her while she wasn't looking at him, and blushed at being caught. Her eyebrows rose, as she realized he had been studying her. "And that's Adam DeLaine. Details are his specialty, planning is his game." He smiled almost shyly at her, and nodded. Ameena appraised him more closely. She nodded at him, as if she liked what she saw. She turned back to Malcolm, to speak impatiently. "Okay, fine. You've brought a couple of new boys around. But why? Why do I need shadows? What's going on?" Malcolm got up to stand in front of her and spoke quietly. "I'm sorry, Ameena, but there's no easy way to tell you this. The Executioner has escaped. And I'm afraid that he's going to come after you." Her face twisted in disbelief, and she exploded. "What? How the hell could that happen? He was in maximum-security, doing life! They were supposed to put him into a deep, dark hole in a cage, and lock it, then eat the key for breakfast! You told me it was guaranteed that he'd never see the light of day again!" Malcolm nodded and reached out to take her shaking hands. "I don't know how he did it, me love. No one does. They found a dead guard in his cell, and he was gone. That's all I know. And we have to assume he's going to want to finish what he started with you, because you are the only one who ever lived through his--um--hospitality. You testified against him and put him away. And you, more than anyone else, know he's a vindictive son-of-a-bitch." She shook off Malcolm's hands and walked over to stand facing away from him, her hands on her own upper arms, as if she was hugging herself. Suddenly she whirled on Malcolm, her anger palpable. "You promised me he'd never get out! I wanted you to kill him, but you said he'd never get out! Now what? Do I run and hide? There's no place I could go that he won't find me. Do I spend the rest of my life holding my breath, waiting for him to decide it's time?" The dark-haired man cleared his throat. "That's why I suggested that we lay a trap for him." She whirled on him, sparks of anger shooting from her eyes. "And I'm the bait! I'll never know when he's going to appear. But I'm just supposed to--what? Live my life as if nothing's different? How? Do you have any idea what that twisted fuck is capable of doing?" She suddenly ripped off her flowing short-sleeved jacket and turned around, wearing only her camisole. The sudden intakes of breath from behind her came from the two men who hadn't seen her scars before. Malcolm approached her and held her jacket up for her to slip it back on, gently rubbing her shoulders and her arms. "That's why we're never going to leave you alone. You will have one of them with you at all times." "What's that going to accomplish? He'll never make a move if he sees any of you! He knows how the agency operates! He'll just head underground and wait as long as it takes for me to get complacent. He knows that eventually the agency will pull you all off of me. Then what?" "That's what I said." Adam spoke quietly. She turned to him and nodded, taking deep breaths. She reached into her jeans pocket and got out her container of cigarettes and lit one, leaning back against the desk again. "So talk to me, plan-man. What do you think I should do?" He cleared his throat before he continued. "Don't you mean, what should we, meaning all of us, do?" He inclined his head at Tomás, and nodded at Malcolm. "We both volunteered for this assignment. Malcolm was having trouble getting the official okay to proceed. Seems the H'ups think that he'll stay far away from you, knowing that you'll be waiting for him. They see no need to pay for anyone to provide you anything more than official police protection." Ameena snorted and rolled her eyes. Tomás spoke. "When Malcolm told us about you--about what that sick bastard did to you, and how you risked everything to put him away, he told us that he needed a couple of agents to volunteer to shadow you for a while. We will be the kind of protection that he won't be expecting." He winked at her. "And after watching your dancing earlier, I now know that there's no place I'd rather be than right behind you--enjoying the view."
Today I read about what I hope is a giant step forward for LGTBQ folks in the USA. Carl Nassib, Defensive End for the Las Vegas Raiders came out as gay on Monday. This shouldn't be a big deal--but for two reasons it is.
1-Colin Kaepernick. 6 seasons with the San Francisco 49ers, and he was dropped from the NFL, where he did what he does best, for standing up for his principals. Even years later, when he signed an endorsement deal with Nike, he's still controversial to many. Yet Black Lives Matter is a slogan we need to start living every day. I'm not Black, but I have Black friends. What affects them involves me too. Don't tell me all lives matter. When Black lives matter, THEN all lives will matter. 2--Many of today's young people don't understand what the big fuss is about LGBTQ acceptance. To them it's no big deal. I've subbed in high school classes where the teacher leaves a note telling me that a certain student prefers to go by THIS name, not the one on the seating chart. It's tough enough being a teenager, let alone a teenager today, with social media a huge threat to even a confident adult's peace of mind. But to find that you're not comfortable in your own body? Or that you're attracted to people of your own sex? Then to be rejected by your family and friends, with no safe refuge in sight? Facts are that 5-10% of LGBTQ teens attempt suicide--which is 1.5-3% higher than the rate for hetero-teens. Suicide is on my mind because I have a wake to go to, for a dear friend's son. In the past 6 years, this is the third young man who I watched grow up, who has taken the ultimate exit from their depression and pain. And to my knowledge none of them were LGBTQ. This is a tragedy that affects us all. We are failing our young people, if they can't see any way forward. So to honor Carl Nassib's choice to go public, inviting the inevitable backlash he'll surely face, and to help every young LGBTQ person who feels they have no one to depend on, and no where to turn to, I will give $3.00 for each comment left on this blog, to The Trevor Project. www.thetrevorproject.org/ I can't forget to mention that I'm on a friend's blog for her June celebration of LGBTQ romance. I don't write LGBTQ romance per se, but I do occasionally have gay characters who insist on being a part of my stories. As always, I obey my muse. See my post at: Beyond Romance, the website owned by Lisabet Sarai--who writes romances involving all permutations of people together--sometimes at the same time! LOL. And please check out the other posts in this month's Charity Blog Hop. They're all for good causes--and there's no cost to you. Remember, we're all in this life together--no one gets to choose how they're born--only how they act toward others. A little empathy goes a long way!
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Author Maggie Blackbird is featuring erotic romance writers and their books during the month of June. Today she put my excerpt live--and I'm offering one free download to a random reader who leaves a comment, including their email. Head on over and read a hot excerpt from what I think is my steamiest book! https://maggieblackbird.com/2021/06/18/fiona-mcgier-only-one-man-will-do/ I'm also on the cover of the MFRW June issue of their monthly magazine! There are a couple of excerpts from my books. Check it out! https://joom.ag/V4TI And while we're on the subject of steamy reads, here's a re-posting of what kind of heroines and heroes I prefer to write--and to read. I call it: Alpha you, alpha me, alpha who? Okay, so we all know what makes an alpha male hero in a romance novel, right? He's the take-charge kind of guy who has spent years honing his skills at--whatever--and has had no time for, or interest in love. Oh he makes time for sex, because an alpha male is hard all of the time. And huge--really huge. But once he falls in love with the heroine, with her magic pussy, all of that huge hardness is used just to pleasure her--when he's not rescuing her from--whatever--so that she will see once and for all just how much he loves her. From that point on they will stop their verbal sparring because it was after all, just them both covering up how interested they really were in each other. And he will give up all other women, though they will continue to throw themselves at him, because his undeniable huge, hot, hardness attracts them like moths to a flame. But he forevermore will bring it on home to the little woman because he's now a tamed alpha-male. Ri-ight. Even if you accept the above as a perfect description of a hero, what part do you want to play in that fantasy? Personally I've never been the little woman kind of gal. I mean I'm short, and I do want my man to be faithful, and in return so am I. But waiting around to be rescued, or doing stupid things to endanger myself so I need rescuing, just isn't my style. Me, I like to imagine myself as the alpha female heroine. I'm the woman who is busy pursuing my own career, taking and discarding lovers as the mood strikes me. And of course, all men find me hot because I'm so damn irresistible and I emit pheromones that drive them insane with the promise of the unimaginable pleasure to be had by having sex with me! If there are evil-doers to be fought, I kick bad-guy butt with gusto and almost always I come out on top. When I don't, the hero is there as my back-up and he lets me know in no uncertain terms that I now owe him. And we will both enjoy the payback. So who do I want to be my hero? An alpha male, with whom I will continually butt heads? Maybe. This might work, as long as he's an alpha in a different kind of career choice, or he's becoming tired of being in charge all of the time. But how about a beta male? The nurturing, dependable sort who's always got my back, but who is more than willing to let me be on top, as long as the goal of mutually-explosive pleasure is achieved? In my opinion, beta males don't have to be weak or ugly. They can be any combination of strength, good looks and sex appeal. They are as varied as alpha males--only less bossy. The main attribute of any hero I write is he doesn't want to tame an alpha female--he just wants to enjoy her. Alpha or beta, he will soon learn that the pleasure he can share with an alpha female is well worth him learning to take turns being on top. And she won't be dependent on him, so he will have to always be seeking new ways to please her, so she doesn't lose interest and wander off. In return she will bring him to new heights of ecstasy beyond anything he ever dreamed of before. An alpha female is not a good girl. But she is very good at what she does! How about you? Do you like to read about alpha females?
Today let's give some love to my first series, The Reyes Family Romances. Analysis of Love is book 5 of the 6 that are published, to date.
Set up for excerpt: Catalina Reyes is a journalist. The paper's editor has ordered her to seduce, then ruin the reputation of the analyst responsible for his son's changing his career from running his father's publishing empire, to teaching English in an inner-city school in Chicago. He's told her if she doesn't, he'll fire her and ensure she never gets hired again in Chicago. Reluctantly she agrees--but when she meets the analyst, she perks up, because he's drop-dead gorgeous. He also has no idea he is, because he's blind. She's always relied on her striking good looks to seduce men--how can she seduce this one? He's already told her that they need to refrain from anything personal because she's a patient of his. This is her second appointment, posing as a person with suicidal ideation. “Well, Dr. Evan, it’s all very well and good for you to say that I have to spill my guts to you, and make myself vulnerable and all... but one of the first things I need to share with you is that unless I am related to them, I don’t trust any man that I haven’t had sex with.” He swallowed hard, and leaned back in his chair, the color rising in his face. She watched fascinated, as a flush started in his hair and worked its way down to color his entire face. She wondered briefly if that happened when he was having sex also, and decided that she was going to have to pay close attention, to see if it did. He cleared his throat again, and reached for the glass of water, to take a sip and buy himself time. “I told you, Catalina… that is not possible. I could have my medical license censured, or even revoked, if word were to get around that an incident like that happened in my office during business hours.” She looked at him archly. “Then should I come back after your secretary has gone home? Then it won’t be business hours anymore, and no one will ever need to find out. After all, you said that what happens in the office stays in the office. I don’t plan to tell anyone.” She made a quick silent prayer to the saint of liars and fools, and asked that she be forgiven for telling such a bold-faced lie. The flush had not completely left his face, as he looked directly back at her. “No, Catalina. That’s the way you always manipulate men. That’s not going to work with me. You have come to me for help, and I intend to help you. You are just going to have to learn to trust me without having sex with me.” After a moment’s hesitation, she answered slowly, “Well, that’s going to be hard for me, just like it will be for you...” She stared at his hands tightly folded in his lap, as she continued, “And here’s me, since it’s such a hot day, not wearing any panties under my skirt.” He now blanched, and a vein pulsed visibly on the side of his neck, as he swallowed hard. His hands clenched reflexively in his lap, and she watched, even more fascinated now, as he fought against his own instincts and tried to maintain a professional demeanor. “I... I don’t know what to say to that...” he began. Then he jerked his head up to listen, as she got up from her chair and walked the short distance over to stand directly in front of him. “What are you doing now?” he asked her in a strangled voice, as she grasped the arms of his chair, leaned over, and lightly brushed his lips with hers. “Seeing how you taste,” she replied. She turned her head slightly, and kissed him again, with more force. His lips turned traitor on him the second time, and responded of their own free will. Catalina opened her mouth and brushed at his lips with her tongue, and he obediently opened his mouth also; their tongues briefly dueled, delicately and tentatively. Catalina exhaled breathily as she stood up in front of him, and watched him try to regain his composure. “Ms. Reyes, I have to ask you to stop trying to seduce me. This is against everything I stand for and believe in. You need help, and I want to help you. But I will have to insist that you leave immediately if you...” He stopped, cocked his head, and asked, “What are you doing now?” She smiled and answered softly, “Undoing the hooks on my corset.” Sweat was now dripping down his face from his hair, and he had a death grip on the arms of his chair. “Why?” She leaned forward and pulled both of his hands up, and placed each one on a breast. He gasped, yelling, “No!” as he jerked his hands back like she was on fire. She smiled, because she felt like she was. She grasped his hands again and pulled them back up. “You said that other men must have a tough time concentrating on what I say, because they can see how sexy I am. The only way you can see is with your hands. I want you to see what I am like, Dr. Evan. You said you have to know everything about me, if you are going to be able to help me...” She knew that she was treading on dangerous ground here, using his own words against him, but Dr. Evan Thompson was facing a formidable opponent. And right now, she held the winning hand... or rather, his hands were on the winnings. His face had a dreamy, aroused look on it, as he reluctantly allowed himself to fondle her breasts. For a long moment, the only sound was the quickened breathing that they were both doing. When he spoke again, his voice was thick and syrupy with desire and need. “You are even more beautiful than I imagined. You have perfect breasts, with tiny hard nipples that respond to my every touch...” She moaned as he tweaked both of her nipples, sending currents through her body, causing her to writhe with anticipation. He smiled, and she took that as an invitation to lower her head again to reclaim his now-eager lips. She moved herself forward, so that she straddled his legs as he sat in the chair. She rubbed herself against the enormous bulge in his pants while she caressed his shoulders, then moved her hands forward to unbutton his shirt. He made a token resistance but still kept his hands on her breasts, and she kissed her way down his neck, to begin licking at his chest; this allowed her to lower her hands to his pants, and begin to open them. This galvanized him into action. He tried to push her hands away. “No! I can’t do this with you! It’s not right!” She already had his pants open. She grasped him and pulled his engorged member out where she could see it, and drew in her breath with a hiss. “Oh God, Dr. Evan, you are everything that I like... hard and thick... the kind of man I look for... the kind that’s so hard to find... so good and hard.” He opened his mouth to respond, and she lifted her left breast and rubbed the nipple against his lips. With a strangled cry, he took it into his mouth, and she knew he was almost done fighting her. She lifted her skirt to begin to rub herself against him, and knowing that their nether regions were hidden under her skirt, made her feel extra-wicked. Evan suckled and licked at her nipple, while he used one hand to fondle the other breast. He reached down under her skirt with his other hand, to rub himself against her wetness. Now he was the one to hiss. “Catalina... we can’t do this... oh God, you are so wet! We have to stop this... please, Catalina... Cat... please...” She drew in a breath as she lowered herself slightly onto him, and she felt herself stretch open, to make room for him. In a breathy voice, she said, “That’s right, Dr. Evan, only the men closest to me get to call me Cat.” He gasped. “The only way for me to be any closer to you, is to be inside of you...” He felt her lips smile against his, as she said, “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” She sat down hard on him, taking him completely into her body until she was sitting flush on his lap. He groaned, as she began to move her hips, back and forth, sideways, and in circles. Along the way, she began to squeak and moan, as orgasms took her by surprise, and she rode them all as she rode the man she had conquered. And then his control broke completely and he grabbed her hips, holding her so tightly that she was to have the marks from the imprint of his fingers on her skin for weeks. He thrust into her so deeply that she screamed out her pleasure, and still he moved her roughly, back and forth, until she was incoherent, lost in a state of continuous climaxes. With a final roar, torn from his soul, he pulled her close one final time and exploded into her, not just once, but again and again. He finally collapsed, exhausted and spent. She fell forward onto him, to lie limply across his chest, held up only by her arms draped around his shoulders. The only sound was their ragged breathing, until gradually they began to breathe separately again, as consciousness returned to them both. Catalina licked at his chest and pushed his shirt off of his shoulders, to lick her way up to his neck, then to his chin and face. She spoke against his lips. “Wow! I’ve never felt anything like that before! You are magnificent!” There was a brief flash of a proud smile, then his brow furrowed, and he struggled to regain control over himself again. “Oh lord, what have I done?” he moaned. She smiled at him while she was kissing his lips gently, so he would feel her happiness... * * * Now fully dressed, she continued briskly, “So, I’ll see you next Tuesday, at three. And then the real therapy can begin, okay?” He made an unintelligible strangled reply of some sort. She went out of the door, saying cheerfully, “Bye Dr. Evan. Have a nice weekend.” The door closed behind her with its characteristic click. Evan sank back into his chair to begin the brooding that was going to continue for the next four days, as his various body parts argued with his brain, about whether or not he should ever allow her to be in the same room with him again. * * * * * Buy link: https://books2read.com/u/3LgZYM I've got some exciting promotions set up for June! I'm participating in the TBR Pile Contemporary Romance Week, which runs through Wednesday, June 9. There are 2 posts per day, one in the morning, and one in the afternoon. I'm offering a few copies of For the Love of His Life, the first book in my Minnesota Romances series. I've also got an excerpt from it posting at 2pm on Monday, June 7.
Each time you leave a comment on any post, you're entered to win what is offered WITH that post, as well as being entered into the drawing for the big prizes, like an e-reader. I'll be there both as an author, and as a reader. Last time they did a special week, for Paranormal Romance, I won a few books, leading me to discover some new favorite authors. (yes, I do mean you, James Cox! Also Cardeno C.--both of whom primarily write M/M romance--but they're both masters of their craft!) What else? I'm on the cover as the featured author for the June issue of the Marketing for Romance Writers magazine! Come and read all about me and a couple of my books. https://viewer.joomag.com/marketing-for-romance-writers-magazine-june-2021-volume-4-issue-6/0635485001622487577?short& On Tuesday, June 8th, check back here for my post that's part of the Steam Blog-hop, where we all post steamy excerpts, and the reader wins! Heat up your day with some steam! Read my post, then check out the others as well. On Wednesday, June 16th, I'll do my usual monthly posting on the Sweet'n'SexyDivas site--see bar on right for link. Then on Friday June 18th, I'm guest blogger on Maggie Blackbird's site, during her June is Erotic Romance Month promotion. I'll be posting a sexy excerpt from Only One Man Will Do, book 2 in my Minnesota Romances--which I wrote trying to see just how much sex I could put into one book, and still have interesting characters and an engrossing plot. Note: link not live until Friday, June 18th. maggieblackbird.com/2021/06/18/fiona-mcgier-only-one-man-will-do/ This month's prompt is: Does writing change the author? Do you think your writing has changed you in any significant way? First off, I'm a perfectionist. I never believe I'm doing enough unless I'm constantly busy. So when I'm doing something like relaxing with the husband watching TV, I'm crocheting afghans to give to other people. When I decide to bake a dessert, I figure since the oven's already on, I can also make cookies, banana muffins, and maybe a loaf of bread also. When I want to give gifts to my children, I wonder what I can make for them--because I don't have enough to do already! Right now I'm doing a long-term sub job for a Foods teacher in a local high school, because she had a baby. I've got her classes through the end of the school year--I go in for a couple of hours before school, and stay for another couple of hours after school. Plus I'm making an afghan for her baby. And I promised to bring her a sour cherry pie. And I'm making and freezing a dinner tomorrow, so the other Foods teacher can deliver some meals to the new parents. So I have NO time to write, let alone promote--or even keep up with my emails until mid-June. What does all of this have to do with the topic? I've always had stories in my head. And as an English major in college, the joke was that each of us felt we had THE great American novel inside of ourselves, and that we'd publish it someday to great acclaim, thus proving wrong all of the nay-sayers (yes, I'm thinking of my late father) who were disappointed in me when I got an English degree instead of something more useful. So having gotten, to date, 17 books published is a really big deal to me. But I'm always thinking of the next book. Right now I have 4 books in various stages of done-ness, waiting in my laptop for me to have the time to write them. Then submit them. And I'm trying to keep up with promotions--for instance, there's a great Contemporary Week coming up June 3-9 on the TBR Pile site--that's who I review for. And I'll be a part of that promotion not only as a writer, giving some free books away, but also as a reader, because they offer LOTS of free books, so the more you leave comments, the more books you might get. Win-win for all! Interested authors: http://thetbrpile.weebly.com/contemporary-romance-week How has writing changed me? I'm always thinking that I'm not doing enough to leave a contribution to the world, in gratefulness for my having time to enjoy living on the planet. I've raised four kids to be productive citizens, and I'm proud of them. But as for my working experience, the longest I've ever been at any job is as a sub in high schools, and I've been doing this for the past 18 years. Not really much to leave behind there, unless you consider the kids whose lives I've touched, talking with them, getting to know them, and hopefully inspiring them to believe in themselves. But my writing gives me something to point to with pride--to say, "I did that." It's something that not everyone can do, and that I think I do pretty well. Don't ask me about my paltry royalties. Being a prolific writer does not translate into earning lots of money. But I'm proud of what I've written, and I enjoy rereading my own books. So I guess what being a writer has done for me is give me a feeling that I'm not wasting my time here. And also, when I write the end for any book, that group of characters stops talking my head, insisting I write their stories. Of course, another group starts talking soon after that--but for a short time, I have a respite from the voices in my head. Then I get busy writing again, and enjoy the flow of words. Because I've always enjoyed writing. Doesn't everyone? To find out what other authors think, check out their blogs: Skye Taylor http://www.skye-writer.com/blogging_by_the_sea Anne Stenhouse http://annestenhousenovelist.wordpress.com Marci Baun http://www.marcibaun.com/blog/ Diane Bator http://dbator.blogspot.ca/ Connie Vines http://mizging.blogspot.com/ Dr. Bob Rich https://wp.me/p3Xihq-2jz Judith Copek http://lynx-sis.blogspot.com/ Helena Fairfax http://www.helenafairfax.com/blog Beverley Bateman http://beverleybateman.blogspot.ca/ Rhobin L Courtright http://www.rhobincourtright.com First about moms. My mom loved to read romance novels--the steamier, the better! So she'd trade brown paper grocery bags full of them with her sisters. They'd go from house to house. When she thought I was old enough, she let me start dipping into the bag. I was hooked on romance from an early age! Flash forward many years, and my dad passed away as Mom was diagnosed with dementia. I had to take over her life, sell her house, and find her a safe place to live--all the while working multiple jobs. I really needed a happy ending. So I started writing the stories bouncing around in my head. Finding a publisher was hard, but I finally got my first book published. I was an author! Mom had lost the ability to read by then--and didn't really realize the book she held in her hands was written by me. So I didn't get to celebrate with her, or to thank her. Once Mom was gone, the only way I came to terms with my grief was to talk to my tattoo-artist friend. He listened to me then said he'd draw something up for me. Once he put it onto my leg, I felt at peace. Happy Mother's Day to all moms out there! Mine taught me how to read, starting me on my life-long romance with words. Thanks so much, Mom! Wait, what does this have to do with socks? Notice that I'm not wearing socks in this picture. In fact, I prefer sandals and flip-flops so much that I rarely wear socks and shoes except for when there's snow on the ground. And when I go to Jazzercise classes. Yesterday, May 8th, was No Socks Day. But if you don't wear socks with your shoes, your feet get smelly! So I never wear shoes without socks. I'm so glad that a fashion editor in the WSJ recently said that no-show socks are passé. I hope that means that the shoes-without-socks-look is also passé . Socks wick away the sweat and help your shoes last longer. Today I'd like to have a moment of silence for May 9th being Lost Sock Memorial Day. Isn't it the truth that once you finally toss that one sock because the mate is lost, then you'll find the other sock soon after that? Don't you just hate that? Better to be like me and wear sandals--never with socks--and not risk the loss! |
Contemporary Erotic Romance
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