Reading report
Multiple reads this week
Creating Unforgettable Characters by Linda Seger
Five stars – An excellent craft book. One I wish I’d read earlier. It is intended for those interested in writing scripts. I’m not. But good characterization is at the heart of all storytelling whatever the medium.
Tall, tanned and Texan by Kimberly Raye
Three stars – Ms.Raye has that Southern charm thing going in her voice, which appeals to the Yankee in me. The story itself fails to rise significantly over the average Blaze. For a fast, mildly sexy romp it’s a fine choice.
Eva Luna by Isabel Allende
Four stars – The story makes me wish I read Spanish. The prose intrigues, charms, wanders and surprises. There are stories within stories since the protagonist is a storyteller.
Deadly Affair by Sheila Baker
Three and half stars – but don’t worry it’ll be five stars by the time it’s available in print. The story is the sort of erotica I’m always looking for and not finding. Strongly drawn characters real enough to move in next door grappling with compelling problems and complicated sexuality.
Posted by Evanne Lorraine @
5:36 pm |
Writing Life
Editing obsession continues. The obsessive writer at work – editing to strengthen. How many passes before the words are right? No idea. I do know that I’ve fallen into the endless edit loop before. Stuck in a rut that never becomes a road.
Warning: For anyone offended by graphic sex stop reading right now.
Making love with Bella was wrong. She deserved love, marriage and babies. He couldn’t be the man to give her those things. Desire pulsed through him tightening every muscle and settling with cruel weight in his groin.
“You’re waiting for Mr. Right and the ring and all that?”
She shook her head. “No.” Her voice huskier, almost croaky. “I’m never marrying.”
“Why the hell not?”
The words erupted from his mouth. He hadn’t planned any of this and he was a man who planned everything. His control eroded by her presence. He should leave. He was kidding himself. His escape route narrowed out of existence the moment he crossed her threshold.
“I’m a Williams.”
She said it as if she’d given him a complete explanation.
“So?” An impossibly soft shoulder shrugged. “We don’t marry.”
She changed the subject with her eyes. They moved between his face and his groin. Every glance a lick thickening his cock and thinning his control.
She toyed. Tracing the rim of his belly button with wary fascination.
Insane discipline gripped him. He captured her hand and held it against his chest.
The Levi’s fly stretched taut, every buttons riding at an extreme angle. He hoped to hell they held. His heart hammered as if he’d been running sprints.
“If Williams women don’t marry, how to you keep the line going?”
Bella barricaded her nudity behind a fluffy pillow.
“The usual way.” Bella tilted her chin up a notch.
“The usual way involves a man.” Derrick focused determinedly on her eyes.
“Briefly.”
Not flattering, but true enough.
“Come here.” He held out his arm. She scooted closer clinging to the pillow. Not trusting him with her body.
“You make me crazy.”
“Truly?” Her brows arched.
“Yeah.”
She licked her lips pouting. He punished her with a tongue-lashing.
Her touch feathered down his torso. Muscles bunched into knots under the softest of caressed. She lingered at his belly button. A new erogenous zone pulsed to life.
He unbuttoned his jeans with trembling fingers. Shucked them.
Lowered himself slowly, he covered her body with his. Carefully he kept his weight off her. Gently he nudged her thighs apart. Settled.
She sighed and he swallowed the sound capturing her breath. Her essence.
Though slick from her earlier climax, she was tight. He pushed the head of his cock into her slippery heated core. Her inner muscles, surprisingly strong and silky, clamped around him. He thrust into her. Stilled.
She froze beneath him.
He clenched his teeth preparing to withdraw.
Bella bucked her hips, angling for more contact or trying to unseat him?
God help him, every moment brought him closer to climax.
“Do you want me to stop?” He wasn’t sure he could.
“It doesn’t feel good.” Her voice was small.
He felt like an animal. He was an animal. The animal’s balls tightened.
She bucked.
Animal sounds roared from his throat. He lost control thrusting. Once. Twice. Heart pounding, muscles knotting, cock spurting.
He levered his torso off her enough to see her averted face. Tear tracks stained her cheek.
He pushed from her severing their intimate connection. Bella curled into a ball. He ignored his wants stroking her back.
She shuddered. “I thought I’d like it.”
Her disappointment was humbling.
Derrick knew a dozens ways to pleasure a woman. What had he done? Thrust into her like a rutting bull.
What happened to his control? Cracked with first kiss. Shattered with an irresistible urge to taste her. The shards scattered with his honor. Everything he believed blown away in few minutes of unimagined-impossible-to-deny desire.
Posted by Evanne Lorraine @
7:40 pm |
Sample Saturday continued
Warning: For anyone offended by sex stop reading right now.
Making love with Bella was wrong. She deserved love, marriage and babies. He couldn’t be the man to give her those things. Desire pulsed through him tightening every muscle and settling with cruel weight in his groin.
“You’re waiting for Mr. Right and the ring and all that?”
She shook her head. “No.” Her voice huskier, almost croaky. “I’m never marrying.”
“Why the hell not?”
The words erupted from his mouth. He hadn’t planned any of this and he was a man who planned everything.
“I’m a Williams.”
She said it as if she’d given him a complete explanation.
“So?”
An impossibly soft shoulder shrugged. “We don’t marry.”
Her eyes moved between his face and his groin. Every glance a lick thickening his cock and thinning his control.
She toyed. Tracing the rim of his belly button with wary fascination.
A moment of insane discipline gripped him. He captured her hand and held it against his chest.
The button fly of his Levis was taut. He hoped to hell they held.
After his heart settled back to the three hundred meter dash mark, he re-opened the discussion. “If Williams women don’t marry, how to you keep the line going?”
Bella scooted up the bed barricading her nudity behind a fluffy pillow. Derrick contented himself with the obstructed view as he waited for an explanation that made sense.
“The usual way.” Bella informed him tilting her chin up a notch.
“The usual way involves a man.” Derrick focused determinedly on her eyes.
“Briefly.”
Not flattering, but true enough.
“Come here.” He held out his arm. Amazingly, she abandoned her pillow trusting him with her body.
“You’re driving me crazy.”
“Truly?” Doubt creased between her brows.
“Swear to God.”
“It’s not just the boobs?”
“They’re first rate. He admitted – pretending to think it over. “Nope, not it’s not just the boobs. It’s the bottom too and the legs.”
Her lips pouted and he punished them with his mouth giving her a tongue-lashing she’d learn to respect. And crave with any luck.
He unbuttoned his jeans. Shucked them. .
Lowered himself slowly, he covered her body with his. Carefully he kept most of his weight off her. Gently he nudged her thighs apart. Settled.
Though slick from her earlier climax, she was tight. He pushed the head of his cock into her slippery heated core. Her inner muscles, surprisingly strong and silky, clamped around him. He thrust into her. Stilled.
She froze beneath him.
“Don’t move.” He warned through clenched teeth.
Bella bucked her hips, angling for more contact or trying to unseat him?
God help him, every moment brought him closer to climax. .
“Do you want me to stop?” He wasn’t sure he could.
“It doesn’t feel good.” Her voice was small – apologetic.
He felt like an animal. He was an animal. The animal’s balls tightened.
She bucked.
Animal sounds roared from his throat. He lost control thrusting. Once. Twice. Heart pounding, muscles knotting, cock spurting.
He levered his torso off her enough to see her averted face. Tear tracks stained the cheek he could see.
He pushed from her severing their intimate connection. Bella curled into a ball. He ignored his wants stroking her back.
She shuddered. “I thought I’d like it.”
Her disappointment was humbling. Derrick knew a dozens ways to pleasure a woman. What had he done? Thrust into her like a rutting bull.
What happened to his code of conduct? Cracked with first kiss. Shattered with an irresistible urge to taste her. The shards scattered with his honor. Everything he believed blown away in few minutes of unimagined-impossible-to-deny desire.
Posted by Evanne Lorraine @
8:43 pm |
Sample Saturday on time
The class I’m taking this month via Kiss of Death, Deep Editing, taught by Margie Lawson, MS is fantastic. The material is all about empowering your writing.
For those wanting to know more about Margie and her light bulb shining classes http://www.margielawson.com/Home.htm
Genre writing is a snowflake problem. Flakes can only be this color, this shape, this size and yet no two are alike and each is wonderful and delightful to the snowflake fan.
In romance writing certain scenes, the first meeting, the first kiss, the first sex are fraught with peril. Reader expectations run high. These scenes are the good parts your reader eagerly anticipates. Disappoint her and your book hits the wall. How can any writer make scenes written a million times before fresh?
Every romance is a love story. Each love story is as individual as its couple. Therein lies the secret of empowering those all important hallmark scenes.
Warning: For anyone offended by sex stop reading right now. Today we’re going to tackle the love scene. It’s not about body parts. It is about intimacy. It is about emotion. It is about vulnerability.
What makes your scene unique? Your characters and detail. Forget every love scene you’ve read. Your couple is alone. They’re attracted or they’re in love. They’re shy or adventurous. They’re experienced or innocent. They’re making love because that is what needs to happen to advance your story.
Unedited
He couldn’t do it. It was against his personal code. This was a woman who was made for marriage and babies and the gift of her virginity belonged to the man who was married her, a very lucky man. He wanted her so much; he could’ve howled with frustration.
“You’re waiting for Mr. Right and the ring and all that?”
She shook her head again. “No.” Her voice was huskier, almost croaky. “I’m never getting married.”
“The hell you’re not.” The words erupted from his mouth of their own volition. He hadn’t planned this and he was a man who planned everything. She was too lovely, he’d have to steel his heart against her or he’d wind up being a fool for her but he couldn’t let her go, he had to have her. She’d been made for him.
Quickly he freed himself from his jeans. Though she was still slick from her climax, she was still so tight he had to push the head of his shaft into her, he felt her inner muscles, surprisingly strong, tight and silky clamp around him. He couldn’t hold back for another second. He thrust into her; he felt her maidenhead tear as he buried himself inside her and held himself perfectly still.
She froze beneath him instantly tense with pain; tightly clenched around him. It hurt so much. She tried to get away but she was pinned underneath him.
“Don’t move.” He growled. He was furious at himself, what had happened to his control? He should have stopped the moment he felt that fragile barrier, but the animal he knew lived inside him was thrilled to be the first. She was trying to push him off, and he knew he should release her but he didn’t think he could and if she didn’t stop squirming he was going to climax inside her. “I said don’t move.”
“It hurts.” Pain and betrayal straining her voice.
Oh lord she had known kissing this man was a mistake. At least he wouldn’t call her a tease. She felt stretched beyond bearing, she tried to find an easier position but he was in her and on her and she had no choice but to lie there and wait for it to end.
He pulled back slightly but when he moved, her feminine passage caressed him. He rocked into her as she eased slightly. He rocked in a fraction more and she clamped down on him again. His body screamed for release and he pushed deeper, if she would just relax a little. How could he make her understand, when the last strand of his control had snapped? She shifted trying to ease the pain and he lost control and thrust into her, this time so deeply he nudged the mouth of her womb as he exploded.
For a few minutes, he was beyond awareness, as reality seeped in he forced himself up on his elbows. She laid perfectly still, her face turned away from the soft light, her eyes were closed but a glistening tear trailed down her cheek. She was hurt. He’d have a hell of time talking her into this again if he didn’t give her some kindness to offset the pain.
He pulled himself from her completely she curled into a ball and he knew he was in for an uphill battle if he wanted to be with her again. And he wanted to be with her again. Even though he’d just had her, he felt himself grow heavy with a desire that was as strong as if it had never been sated. He ignored his own wants and stroked her back.
She turned a tear-streaked face toward him. “I thought I’d like it.” Her disappointment was obvious and humbling. Derrick knew a dozens ways to pleasure a woman and what had he just done? Thrust into her like a horny teenager. Where was his finesse? It had disappeared about the same time he’d unbuttoned her top and awoken an irresistible urge to taste her followed by an impossible-to-deny-need to bury himself inside her.
Edited
Derrick knew making love with her was wrong. Bella deserved love, marriage and babies. Desire pulsed through him tightening every muscle and settling with cruel weight in his groin.
“You’re waiting for Mr. Right and the ring and all that?”
She shook her head. “No.” Her voice huskier, almost croaky. “I’m never marrying.”
“Why the hell not?”
The words erupted from his mouth. He hadn’t planned any of this and he was a man who planned everything.
“I’m a Williams.”
She said it like that was a complete explanation.
“Not good enough.”
An impossibly soft shoulder shrugged. Her eyes moved between his face and his groin. Every glance a lick thickening his cock and thinning his control.
She toyed. Touching him with wary fascination.
He unbuttoned his jeans. Shucked them.
Lowered slowly covering her body with his. Nudged her thighs apart. Settled.
Though slick from her climax, she was tight. He pushed the head of his cock into her. Her inner muscles, surprisingly strong and silky, clamped around him. He couldn’t wait. He thrust into her. Stilled.
She froze beneath him. Struggled. He pinned her.
“Don’t move.” He warned through clenched teeth.
Bella bucked her hips trying to unseat him. God help him, every moment brought him closer to climax. .
“I said don’t move.”
“It hurts.” Her voice was small – apologetic.
He felt like an animal. He was an animal. The animal’s balls tightened.
She wriggled.
Animal sounds roared from his throat.
He lost control thrusting. Once. Twice. Heart pounding, muscles knotting, cock spurting.
He levered his torso off her enough to see her averted face. Tear tracks stained the cheek he could see.
He pushed off her severing their intimate connection. Bella curled into a ball. He ignored his wants stroking her back.
She shuddered. “I thought I’d like it.”
Her disappointment was humbling. Derrick knew a dozens ways to pleasure a woman. What had he done? Thrust into her like a rutting bull.
Where was his code of conduct? Cracked with first kiss. Shattered with an irresistible urge to taste her. The shards scattered with his honor. Everything he believed blown away in few minutes of unimagined-impossible-to-deny desire.
What’s still missing? Lots. This is less than a scene – a snippet like the kiss sample. An illustration of editing a work in progress. .
Posted by Evanne Lorraine @
9:10 pm |
Market trends
I believe that knowing how to coax a little bliss back into your work is far more valuable in the long run than craft tips, industry info or a even the secret handshake. I believe that the strong survive, but the joyous thrive.
A Quote from Roxanne St. Claire read the rest of the discussion on Diana Peterfreund’s blog go here http://dianapeterfreund.blogspot.com/
Just in case, you’re still interested in industry information – what better source than publisher’s own blogs?
The Avon Editors Blog daily at http://www.avonromanceblog.blogspot.com/
Harlequin VP of Development, Isabel Swift blogs sporadically at http://community.eharlequin.com/webx?14@889.4rcnaYyLUrY.1@.4a837fef
Be sure to read Eye On The Donut – Sheila Baker the world’s best CP contributed.
An anonynmous editor blogs here http://www.evileditor.blogspot.com/
There’s more editors and agents too, oh my!
Posted by Evanne Lorraine @
8:28 pm |
Book buzz
This week’s buzz report may be mislabeled. The only book that caught my eye is already a bestseller. The Thirteenth Tale, by Diane Setterfield. I’ve been in a vaguely impatient literary kind of mood lately. I find myself irritated by repetition faster than usual, disgruntled by plot holes and disillusioned with type cast characters straight from central casting. Perhaps my new obsession with writing craft and the Deep Editing class I’m taking have temporarily ruined me for trashy books.
Posted by Evanne Lorraine @
8:50 pm |
Teaching to learn – Original plots
Story Essentials – Continued
Recapping as we work our way down the romance editor’s wish list, so far we have:
An opening hook
An appealing, human heroine
A hero to fall in love with. He must be human, appealing and honorable
This weeks essential – an original story line.
An original plot has caused me more angst than the rest of the requirements put together. There are no original plots. Even a fresh twist on the well-trodden ground of boy-meets-girl is hard to come by.
Read the lines the stories filling the category display shelves are the opposite of fresh. You pick up a Blaze, a Presents, an Intrigue, a Superromance you know what you’re getting. They are romances. You know what flavor the story comes in. Blaze is spicy, Presents Rich, Intrigue thrilling, Superromance heartwarming. The writer’s voices vary, the romance plots have variations, that’s it.
That’s the way the editors and all the other readers like it.
As a reader I understand. There’s nothing worse than picking up a nice cozy mystery author, finding she’s gone edgy, and hip. Harlequin editors are smart enough to prevent any jarring of their readers sensibilities.
Hence, the cogent advice – read the line. Don’t get distracted by the different title, different names, read the core story that’s what the reader requires.
Core stories from our already pile:
Avon Single title medieval – Heroine’s evil relatives force her into dishonorable acts, which harm the hero. He avenges his damaged honor by subjecting her to the same cruelties she imposed on him. A secondary character reveals the heroine’s noble motives and he forgives her, acknowledges his love and punishes her malevolent stepbrother.
Silhouette Intimate Moments – Recovering alcoholic heroine needs a hero to facilitate making amends to the daughter, who’s in ex-husband’s custody. Stiff-necked hero learns not to judge others failings as he grants heroine’s wish to reconnect with her child. Overcoming their personal demons, they fall in love.
Harlequin Intrigue – Grieving father, burned by psychic who failed to help locate his missing daughter gets a case of missing child. Psychic teacher has visions of missing child. The grieving father cop and psychic teacher work together to find missing child, losing the fight to keep from falling in love during their quest.
Harlequin Intrigue – Guilty hero forced to work with widow, he’s attracted to in order to foil fiendish plot to commit acts of mayhem. Conflicted widow of traitor battled menacing abusive villain women while fight attraction to hero. The duo foiled the evil machinations of the fiend and fell in love.
Harlequin Blaze – Efficient stalker terrorizes woman, who reaches out to hero for help. Underground warrior, hero comes to her rescue. Complications arise as does the sexual tension until their lives, their libidos and their hearts are on the line. Since this is part of continuity the bad guys are only held at bay, not eradicated.
Avon Single Title Contemporary – Disgruntled undercover cop suspects quirky antique dealer of involvement in art heist. When antique dealer assaults the cop she agrees to pretend to be his girlfriend to aid his investigation as part of her plea bargain to avoid prosecution. Enforced propinquity works its magic and love happens.
Posted by Evanne Lorraine @
2:58 am |
Reading report – Faking It
Reading, for me, is right up there with breathing, eating, sleeping – absolutely essential life sustaining stuff. I not only read, I sample, browse, re-read, study and dissect . And I’m a moody reader.
Last week I’d earned a comfort read. For those of you not familiar with my brand of comfort – a definition.
A comfort read is not steamy sex. A comfort read is not heart thumping suspense. A comfort read is not profound. It is soothing, amusing, distracting and has enough meat to be sustaining.
Perusing the TBR shelves, I selected a vintage Jennifer Crusie, Faking It. Now there’s a problem with reading Jennifer Crusie, as it happens she wrote one of my favorite books, Anyone But You. I know it’s unfair of me, but every time I scan the first page of Crusie I’m hoping for the quirky, true and perfect love story.
Faking It started out fine. Crusie’s voice charmed, soothed and yes, comforted. There’s even a dog, Steve. He’s nervous and needy (obviously no Fred) but I can work with that. Jennifer Crusie has a wonderful talent. Her characterizations are fresh, vivid, engaging. Her craft is honed and sparkly. Her plots – no forget it. I’m pretty sure there are voodoo ceremonies involved in uneven attempts to unearth her stories structure.
Expectations are tricky. Reading an enchanting book puts an author on the must read list. Reading a disappointing book by a revered author shakes the faith.
For those compelled to form their own opinions –
Posted by Evanne Lorraine @
6:30 pm |
Writing Life
The most important thing to do if you want to be a writer is to write. Sounds obvious, but it’s not easy cramming a career into a full life. Most writers have a day job. If you think stay at home mothers don’t work then you’ve never been there, done that.
I planned to write fiction as my second career. I’d study craft and write, study craft and read; well you can see the pattern. Eventually, as the first of my efforts were published, to great acclaim, I’d be ready to quit my day job.
You know about life, right? It’s what happens while you’re busy making plans. I have a new day and night job. Did I quit writing? Nope. But it’s slowed me down.
Other factors slow down productivity too. I’m much more critical of all writing, especially mine. I kind of miss the days when I banged happily away at the keyboard every morning before leaving for work. So what if every fifth word was and? I was having fun.
There are writers who, from their accounts of their daily schedule, whistle while they work. Marketable prose flying from their fingertips. I don’t read them.
The writers I read work damn hard crafting easy reading.
Posted by Evanne Lorraine @
10:53 pm |
Sample Saturday delayed
Back in August I signed up for a fall class Deep Editing over at the Kiss of Death on line chapter. I had a vague recollection the class started in September. Last Thursday I emailed the coordinator and asked real nice about the promised link thinking the class might be starting sometime soon. The efficient registration coordinator emailed me a link to the virtual classroom. The class began September first. Behind already. Jumped in and got to work on my monster editing assignment.
Today’s sample is from the same story. A new and, I hope, improved version. BTW whenever I edit I wind up adding a lot of words, not necessarily a bad thing, but it may become a problem.
Man is the head of the woman. Only man is the image and glory of God.
Bella folded and unfolded the already worn note, until she caught herself and forced her fingers still. She’d hastily palmed the cheap white paper note she’d spied in her bridesmaid bouquet. The biblical words echoed in her head. It was the second such note she’d found in a week. The first one, left on her windshield Monday while she was working at the shop. She chided herself for getting jumpy over a quote from Corinthians.
The notes qualified as strange – but threatening? She tried to dismiss them as nothing more than a bazaar form of proselytizing. She was turning into a nervous old maid – silly enough to be spooked by printed words. Sticks, stones, and all that jazz. She managed an inward laugh at herself for being such a coward.
She sucked in her stomach tightening the muscles the way Nana had taught her for better posture. She refocused on the wedding ceremony.
Reverend Tom’s red hair clashed horribly with the burgundy robe he wore over his cassock, but his voice was strong, as if given extra power by the beauty of the words he intoned.
“The union of husband and wife in heart, body, and mind is intended by God for their mutual joy; for the help and comfort given one another in prosperity and adversity; and, when it is God’s will, for the procreation of children and their nurture in the knowledge and love of the Lord. Therefore marriage is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, deliberately, and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by God . . .”
Moments later, Rod turned to Merci lifting the sheer veil to reveal her shining eyes and trembling lips.
Every man and woman in the congregation sat at attention. Rod took Merci’s hand and began pledging his heartfelt vows. He.spoke only to her.
“My honor, my heart, my body, my soul is yours . . .”
Chills skittered along Bella’s arms. Merci’s face was so radiant all of Bella’s worries vanished. She didn’t want to ruin the professional makeup Merci insisted on. She blinked fast to keep tears from spilling. As the-maid-of-honor, it was her job to keep it together. She was not spoiling this moment for her best friend.
Her gaze stayed riveted on the newlyweds as Rod lifted Merci’s veil. He leaned closer in slow motion, pressing Merci’s mouth with his. From where she stood the kiss felt respectful and loving and certain.
Bella sighed. Their wedding was made all the more beautiful because of the emotional roller coaster ride Merci and Rod survived on their journey to true love.
Merci’s perfect white satin dress, the pristine church and, of course, the pleasing groom pledging his eternal love were all wonderful and exactly as Merci deserved. Bella blinked back more tears, brimming with poignant feelings she didn’t want to examine.
Trying to regain her composure, she scanned the church for a distraction. Her gaze homed in on Derrick Jamison. He was an easy target. Taller than everyone present, he naturally drew her eye. But he was more than tall. He embodied the lure of the forbidden with way more than his rightful share of masculine appeal.
His gaze locked with hers. His smoldered with sexual energy. A traitorous corner of her heart wished she were the kind of woman, who would enchant him. She wasn’t. She looked away from those dark eyes.
She was a realist. She was far too sensible to do anything as crazy as flirting with a known player. A man like him would have a mile long trail of discarded women.
Bella stared at her flowers to avoid looking at Derrick. He wasn’t strictly handsome. Attractive, in kind of hard-edged way, he oozed wicked masculine appeal. He was compelling, if a woman went in for tall dark and dangerous. She didn’t, shouldn’t anyway – not if she the sense to come in out of the rain.
She dared another glance. His gaze met hers. His eyes seemed to issue a challenge. His gaze seared every nerve from her head clear down to her toes. She tensed. She knew his kind, predators. She didn’t blame him for the blatant invitation. She looked right for the part he was casting. She’d inherited her mother’s striking coloring and voluptuous figure. Normally she dressed carefully to counteract the false impression of sensuality. Tonight, she was on display in the bride’s fashion choice.
The dress Merci chose for Bella was pure simplicity. A little nothing slip of peach silk that clung to every curve with a soft draping neckline that gave a man hope. If seduction were the goal, it would’ve been the perfect dress to wear. Underneath it all, the barely there bra and matching thong made her ample shape appear better than reality.
All too easily, Bella pictured Derrick undoing her lingerie, his big hands sure and skillful, knowing just where to touch to give pleasure. Heat streaked up from her breasts singeing her cheeks. Perspiration dampened her neck.
The man had said nothing more to her than “How do you do” and “Pleased to meet you” and even then, he had sounded completely bored. Here she was creating a whole seduction fantasy around a hot look. All right, a couple of hot looks. But they meant nothing. For all she knew he was near sighted.
He deserved to star in some woman’s fantasy, maybe even hers. The ease with which she imagined him naked rocked everything she’d believed about herself. A new worry, that she’d inherited more than from her mother than coloring, flared to life. She might share her mother’s fatal weakness for men. Fresh licks of fire turned up the heat on her breasts, neck, face.
Derrick watched Bella’s blush deepen and raised a brow in silent speculation. What was she thinking? Could she read his mind? Not likely. If she knew his thoughts she’d be running as fast as those long legs could carry her.
He was famous for his unreadable face. He was confident none of the erotic images playing in his mind reflected on his features. A moment of doubt prickled, maybe something had leaked. He’d never had this strong a reaction to a woman. He brought his cool analytical intellect to bear on the Bella problem.
She was pretty, in a doll like way with gold curls escaping from a topknot. Her eyes were an unusual golden brown, whisky eyes. Nice skin, creamy, a great foil for her pretty blush. A killer body, too round to be in style. Lush breasts and curvy hips were exactly they way he liked. Scent was a powerful aphrodisiac and there was no denying she smelled good – a clean fragrance with a hint of something floral. All and all a very nice package.
None of her attributes explained the strength of his response. He’d dated some spectacularly beautiful women. Not one of them had the same impact as this round little peach. Instinctively, he knew there was more in play than her appearance. She had an electric undercurrent. A whispered promise of molten pleasure only she embodied. He’d felt it when they’d shook hands and a disproportionate power surge hit nearly sending sent him to his knees.
He felt it now, a primal urge to paw the ground, beat his chest and roar his desire. At the same time everything thing he knew about staying in control was threatened by every breath she took. To become involved with her would be professional and personal suicide.
Posted by Evanne Lorraine @
8:34 pm |
A lonely woman finds passion with a dominant much younger lover, forcing a choice between love and loyalty 
The Enyo Chronicles includes both Dalia's Choice and Joon's Tempation. 
Three different stories, three dangerous men, and three women who deserve them 
One dangerous warrior woman plus two rogue demon males equals a love to threaten an empire. 
Getting paid to watch Eduardo is Desiree’s dream assignment, but when he reaches out to her, crossing the line, everything changes.
Deep in her secret heart, she lusts for a sexy pirate who’d be her master and commander in the bedroom. But, this man may be too dangerous
One woman, two men, three wounded hearts--though already mated their love is still forbidden.
A reluctant reporter and a lone wolf undercover cop work to catch an extortionist, finding love requires the most dangerous risk of all. 
Street-smart cop plays princess to catch deadly terrorists. Now,the only man she trusts is the one she can't resist.
Along with the arrival of Sam’s nemesis comes Karina, the one woman who can heal his wounded soul. What he doesn’t know may kill him. Because, the love of his life is his worst nightmare--his enemy’s daughter. 