Tuesday, January 20th, 2015
Years of wisdom have taught Randal that it’s not the destination but the journey that makes everything worthwhile. When the tentative friendship between silver fox Randal and young Tessa bursts into lust, it ignites a passionate affair that leaves them both trembling. There’s nothing more fulfilling than a beautiful woman in the arms of a man who can appreciate everything she has to offer.
As Randal embarks on a second career and Tessa is preparing for her chosen field, Randal’s daughter flounders in a sea of depression. When Randal’s love for his daughter is pitted against his love for Tessa, can there be a winner?
In the water, Randal didn’t act like an invalid. Those piercing blue eyes sparkled and his body was ripped, better any guy Tessa had dated. The man was damn sexy, and in the week she’d known him, she’d grown to like him—maybe too much. Way too much. Aside from a few thin, pink scar lines over his knees, no one would have believed he was living in a wheel chair.
He trapped her against the side of the pool and held her prisoner between his arms.
She turned and faced him. Now she stared into those beautiful blue orbs and caught the grin that crinkled the skin at the outer edges of his eyes. “You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“And you have a beautiful body.”
She inhaled as he drew himself nearer. His breath flowed over her face. She closed her eyes and she prayed he’d kiss her.
A finger touched her jaw, and she opened her eyes. He was inches from her with a warm smile on his face. Heaving in a deep breath, she hoped to cool the sensation building in her, but she couldn’t stop it. She tried to imagine his lips on hers. His finger traced her entire face, including her lips. She parted her mouth and touched her tongue to his roaming finger.
“Damn woman. You’re giving me an erection.”
She cast her gaze toward his trunks but she couldn’t stop the grin that was pulling on the edges of her lips.
His finger went down her neck and followed the edge of her bikini top. Her chest rose with his touch. Heat flowed through her, settling between her legs. She had never been one to have casual sex, but she was not a virgin. Right now, she wanted fulfillment. She tried to tell herself that older men weren’t usually capable of sexual intercourse, but somehow she figured this man was quite capable. His fingers splayed over her breast. And a moan escaped from someplace deep in her throat. She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist and pull him closer to her.
She pushed past him and headed for the stairs. She had to get a grip on her feelings because inside she felt as though she was about to shatter into a million pieces.
He followed her. “Tessa, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I meant no harm.”
She turned and touched her fingers to his lips. “We’re adults.”
“Don’t leave. I won’t do it again. But seeing you has awakened something inside of me.”
“Yeah. I know that feeling.” She walked up the stairs and found a towel before turning back to him. “Do you need help getting out?”
“No, not yet. I need to swim some more. I try to swim every morning that I don’t have therapy. You just aren’t here. So to answer your question, yes, I can get in and out by myself.”
She settled onto a chase lounge and watched him in the water. He was as graceful as a dolphin as he swam lap after lap. She couldn’t help but admire his body. Even his legs had beautiful muscle definition. Inside, she still quaked. There was something about him—something dangerously sexy, and she felt it to her toes.
After another twenty minutes or so, he pulled himself out of the water and onto his wheelchair. Silver hair was plastered to his chest, legs, and arms. The navy blue trunks left little to the imagination.
“You can stand?”
“Of course. But I’m not supposed to be on my feet. Actually, it hurts like hell, which is why my daughter hired you. I tried to do too much too soon, then wound up falling and doing more damage. That set me back a few months, as I had to have another round of surgery. His hands gripped the outer wheels of his chair, and he headed toward the house.
He shot her a wicked grin. “Not unless you want to help me get naked.”
She cocked her head as what he said sank in. “Oh. I’m a broke student, but I’m not a whore.”
He rolled to where she was sitting and grabbed her foot. “I didn’t think you were.”
His fingers caressed the bottom of her feet, and she attempted to stifle another moan. “I’m not a toy.”
“As I said, I didn’t think you were.”
His hands made their way further up her legs, massaging each little inch of flesh. Slow and gentle, it felt wonderful. He inched higher, and she put her hand down to stop him. He captured her hand in his and began to tenderly knead each finger, then her palm.
“You’re tense. You need to relax.”
She swallowed and closed her eyes. Her very fiber was being torn apart. Part of her told her to stop him, and the other part greedily wallowed in his sexual attention. The self-indulgent part was winning. Heat swirled through her system and caused her nipples to bead. Then she felt his lips on her palm. She squirmed when her labia twitched. His lips made their way up her arm to her neck. Tiny kisses, little nips, and an occasional swirl of his tongue graced her skin.
Never before had she had a man touch her in such a way. She moaned as he nibbled on her earlobe. She knew she was horny, and he was pushing all the right buttons to ramp her desire.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Ali Baran is a vacation addict and a collector of bathing suits. She’s an end-user software programmer by day and on the prowl for Mr. Wonderful after hours. Since she hasn’t found him, she decided to create him.
Author Link: https://alibaranauthor.wordpress.com/.
Buy Links: AMAZON BARNES & NOBLE
Thursday, January 15th, 2015
Welcome Lena Bourne and her fabulous new release.
Not Looking For Love: Episode 1
Blurb: Sometimes, what you want is not really what you need.
Gail is only twenty-two years old and her mom is dying. Not just dying, she will be dead in a few days, if the doctors are to be trusted, and Gail is certain she herself won’t survive that. After a run in with Scott, the hot gardener from next door, Gail begins to see him as the perfect distraction from her unbearable life. It’s not love Gail wants. She just wants to feel good with someone who makes her forget, if only for a little while, and Scott fits that description perfectly.
Scott just got back into town and he’s still trying to get his life back together. He already has more problems and regrets than he can ever hope to live with, and the last thing he needs is to get tangled up with a rich girl who is clearly a little unsettled, if not downright insane. But the fact that Gail is very attractive and keeps throwing herself at him makes it impossible to keep sending her away. Which he should, for Gail’s sake more than his own.
Lena Bourne is a young writer, but she has seen her fair share of the world, of love and loss, and all that happens in between. Now she’s here telling the stories you might otherwise have missed, which are made up, of course, but could very well be real and true. Not Looking For Love is her first serial, a steamy New Adult romance, which will be released in five installments over the next few months.
Lena Bourne – Edgy Romance Writer
Not Looking For Love: Episode 1
Chapter 1 Excerpt:
I crawl through the hole in the fence that separates my garden from Kate’s. It’s a tight fit, now that I’m no longer five years old. Chairs and towels, empty glasses and discarded clothes are still strewn across the lawn, but, thankfully, no one is around. Likely, the cold dawn chased the last of the party away. I glance up at the house to make sure no one is watching. All the windows are dark. A light reflects in the first floor windows, and I drop into a crouch reflexively, but it’s just a passing car.
I find my dress near the pool where I took it off to take a dip. Right before Brandon tossed me in. I just left it lying there when I ran home. Everyone must think I’m completely mental now. I hope Brandon does too. Why won’t he just take a hint? Brandon is Kate’s brother, and since she’s like a sister to me, he’s like a brother to me. I can’t be dating my brother. Besides he’s the love ‘em and leave ‘em type, and all he can give me is a broken heart. Like he did with his last five girlfriends. As if my heart could take any more breaking.
I look around, tossing things aside, not caring where they land, hoping to find the bracelet. It’s not anywhere. The sun’s not up yet, but birds are chirping something awful all around me, and the sky is more white than grey now. Dawn is my favorite time of day. I love watching the colors of the sky change from inky black to grey to lilac blue and finally yellow, the new day being born, bringing new hope. Today, I just wish the sun would come up.
If the bracelet is not in the grass, it might be in the pool. The thought of going back in the water makes me shiver, but my desperation to get the bracelet back right away is stronger.
I ease myself off the side of the pool in roughly the spot where I went in before, feet first, trying not to make any sound that could wake Kate’s family. It’s like slow torture to do it that way, and my whole body cramps up, but the last thing I need is to cause a panic. I could just go back home and come back once the sun is up, but I can’t. I need that bracelet, or else I won’t sleep.
The cold water grips my body like a vice and I take shallow breaths until the worst of the pain passes. The lights in the pool are off already, they’re connected to the porch lights, and someone thoughtfully turned them all off after the party ended. Too thoughtfully. I could really use those lights right now.
After a final deep breath, I submerge my head, fighting the overwhelming urge to gasp as the cold water goes straight to my brain, which is what it feels like. I can almost see the steam coming off, but at least my heart is no longer pounding. I let myself float on the surface, scanning the floor of the pool. Lucky really, that Kate’s pool is saltwater. I can float, eliminating the need to tread water to keep myself on the surface.
Shadows play upon the mosaic floor of the pool, all blues, whites, yellows, and pinks. I turn slightly to adjust my angle of view. No silver gleams against the tiles anywhere. I only come up for air once my lungs start burning and dip my face back in immediately. Grey is giving way to white in the sky now, so the visibility should soon improve. I’m enjoying the silence, the serenity of floating in the water, with my long hair plastered down my ears, blocking out the chirping birds.
The eerie silence is almost like diving, only without the crushing weight of the water pressing against me. But I can’t see my bracelet anywhere, and no doubt the servants will be out cleaning up soon. I adjust my angle again and am just about to come up for more air when something grabs my waist and flips me over in the water.
I scream and flail, gulp water instead of air, with visions of a shark attacking vivid in my mind. Beating and kicking, I paddle hard to get out of the water, my hair obscuring my vision.
Whatever grabbed me is no longer touching me, but I kick back to the side of the pool frantically anyway, still coughing, still seeing nothing. My knuckles collide with the wall of the pool, but I ignore the pain, scraping my knees as I struggle out of the water. My arms are shaking so badly I can’t lift myself up to get out of the pool
“Calm the fuck down!” a man yells behind me. “You’ll hurt yourself. It’s alright.”
He places his hands on my hips and lifts me from the water.
I’m panting now, but at least I’m not swallowing water anymore. I brush my hair from my eyes and stand up, though my legs are shaking so hard I’ll probably just topple back down even if I succeed.
The guy is still in the water, eyeing me like I’m insane. “Are you alright?”
I nod as I finally manage to stand.
He hoists himself from the water in one fluid motion. His white t-shirt is plastered against his chest, and his grey pants hug his legs tightly. He’s all muscle, from his biceps, to his shoulders, chest, and stomach that ripples in a neat six-pack. And not those chiseled for-show muscles that otherwise thin guys have. He’s bulky, twice as wide as any guy I know. Even his legs. No wonder he had no problem tossing me out of the pool.
“Are you alright?” he asks again, standing right in front of me now.
I quickly look up into his face, hoping he didn’t notice me checking him out before. He can’t be much older than me, I see now. His short blond hair looks black near his scalp, but stands up in light colored spikes all over his head. His eyes are either blue or grey—the kind of eyes that change color according to the light. And deep. I could stare at his eyes all day long just to see what I could see.
Giveaway: Win one of two copies of Not Looking for Love by Lena Bourne
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Sunday, January 11th, 2015
Title: Naughty Little
Author: Nina Crespo
Release Date: January 5, 2015
Genre: A sexy category
romance novella from Entangled’s Brazen imprint
There’s nothing personal stylist Tabitha Drake loves more than pissing off uptight military contractor Andrew Bode. Unfortunately, the infuriating—and incredibly sexy—stylist is Drew’s ticket to a major account. The only way to get what he wants is to agree to Tab’s terms: a style makeover. However, Drew has a few terms of his own, most of which involve her naked in his bed. But neither of them are prepared for what happens when their lust-fueled hostility turns into something altogether unexpected…
Tab yanked the sleeves of her extra-large sweatshirt and trudged downstairs. Coffee and Fruit Loops. The only sensible things in the midst of a week living in insanity. She’d expected her deal with Drew would place her in uncomfortable territory, but she hadn’t anticipated it dropping her into the hot zone. Not even Bode-Wynn’s golden connections had been able find a hotel not taken over by the convention or spring break. She should have waited until Drew’s assistant had confirmed everything before canceling her reservations.
Morning sun glared off highly polished marble and steel in Drew’s kitchen. Not staying in a hotel should have rated as an enjoyable experience, but his stick-up-the-butt tendencies stretched way beyond impossible. Like yesterday when she’d taken a towel from the linen closet to dry her hair, causing the weekly housekeeper to freak out. At first, she’d thought the woman inhaled too much pine cleaner until she’d explained. Only blue towels, not green ones, belonged in the upstairs guest room. Why? Because Drew wanted order.
The list didn’t end there. No dishes left in the sink. Pillows properly spaced on the couch. The thermostat set at precisely frigid-ass cold. Throw in his other quirks about no TVs in the bedroom and the evils of junk food, and she existed in the equivalent of Siberia. Alone. He left early. Came home late. When he was there, he kept to himself and barely spoke. The beautifully decorated house felt unlived in and unloved. More than ever she needed the homey touches she used to make long trips bearable. Her Cinderella blanket, Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt, and comfort food. Two more weeks and then she would head for Virginia and a hotel room. She couldn’t wait.
Tab opened the top cabinet. Beans, brown rice, organic peanut butter. Where was it? She searched through other cabinets, top and bottom. Sadist! He wouldn’t.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Keeping her back turned from him, she gripped marble. “Where are my Fruit Loops?”
Spoon, bowl, those words matched. Joking didn’t fit anywhere in the scenario. She’d endured his house rules, but messing with her cereal went too far.
“No. I’m not.” She whirled around to face him, and her breath hitched.
Drops of water slid into the divide of his pecs, traveled over the ridges of his abdomen, melted into the soft, downy looking hairs leading like a silken arrow into his short, square-cut swim trunks.
“I want my treat.” Prickles surged into her scalp. “I mean cereal. It was here yesterday.” Damn, she sounded mental.
He took the towel from his shoulder and wrapped it around his waist. “I put it where it belonged.”
“And where’s that exactly?”
He walked in and opened the cabinet near her head. His closeness tempted her to touch, stroke, follow the drops of water with her tongue to the bulge under his towel. She should look away, but only a blind nun could stare and not lose every scrap of sense.
Nina Crespo lives in Florida where she indulges in her favorite passions — the beach, a good glass of wine, date night with her own real-life hero and dancing.
Her lifelong addiction to romance began in her teens while on a “borrowing spree” in her older sister’s bedroom where she discovered her first romance novel.
Curiosity about people and places, including what’s beyond the stars, fuels her writer’s imagination. This wellspring of inspiration allows Nina to create sensual contemporary stories and steamy paranormal tales, which she hopes will feed your own addiction for love, romance, and happily ever after.
Prize: $20 Amazon Gift Card
Saturday, January 10th, 2015
Five years ago, Tristan Kendall left home and the woman he loved to prove himself on the sport bike racing circuit. With his career briefly on hold, he’s come to realize everything – and everyone – he ever wanted was right at home all along. Now he’s determined to win back her heart no matter the cost.
But Victoria Lane’s been through more than Tristan knows since he broke her heart. No longer the girl he once knew, she has a life to live, and a heart to give, but only to someone who’s planning to stick around. And she’s sure that isn’t him. Can he convince her that she’s the only victory lane he wants to be in?
BUY LINK: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00PZ5JRNG
Tristan Kendall wove his blue Yamaha R1 motorcycle in and out of traffic on I-270 in Maryland at over 140 mph. His sport bike was a marvel of engineering that allowed a rider to aggressively mate with it like two lovers in spoon position. Speeding up as he neared his hometown, he glanced in the rearview mirror. The cop behind him had grown smaller and smaller with each mile, but Tristan knew that if he didn’t get off the highway soon, police reinforcements would arrive. They’d never catch him, but one picture of his license plate and he’d get more than just a speeding ticket. Assuming he didn’t wreck and end up dead.
When he pulled off onto the winding back roads and slowed down, the cop didn’t see him exit. Familiar sights caused memories of home to return. He hadn’t been back in five years and more houses had sprung up. The plague of suburbia seemed to crowd in a bit more on the rural town of Comus, creeping up from D.C. to the south. One day there’d surely be a skyscraper in his backyard, but for now rolling farmlands dotted the landscape. Despite his familiarity with the roads, he rode them cautiously, his green eyes alert for patches of dirt or leftover road salt from winter storms. They could send him skidding off the pavement.
As if to prove his point, he came around a curve to find that another sport bike and its rider weren’t wrapped around each other anymore. The bike was upside down against a sapling. The rider stood with hands on hips, staring at the flipped-over Suzuki Hayabusa that no one would be taking for a spin anytime soon by the look of the chain, which had disengaged from the rear sprocket to drape near the ground. The clutch lever on the left handlebar hung loose as if snapped, paint had scratched off, and small dents had damaged the body work. Tristan quickly dismounted, running into the tall grass beside the rider.
“Hey, are you all right?” he asked.
The rider turned and Tristan stopped short, his gaze riveted on the rider’s brown eyes, which reminded him of melted chocolate, long lashes framing them. A spark of anger gleamed within. Her posture was defiant. His pulse raced faster now than in the last hour. Even with her helmet still on, the visor up, her face radiated beauty, though he couldn’t see more than those eyes and cheekbones, making him desperately curious to see more. Full breasts strained at the form-fitting leather suit of red and white. Her zipper was down enough to reveal magnificent cleavage pushed up like two mountains of fleshy delights that Sugarloaf Mountain behind them could not compete with; not all of Mother Earth’s mounds were created equal.
“I’m fine,” said the woman, hardly sparing him a fiery glance.
“Are you sure? Maybe you should get checked out.”
“I’m standing, aren’t I?”
He nodded, wondering if her bravado was covering for her being shaken up. By the look of the scene, she’d likely tumbled through the grass and that was all. They silently gazed at the Hayabusa together. “That was a nice bike.”
“Was being the operative word.”
He shrugged. “I’ve seen worse. It can be fixed.”
“Yeah,” she said, not sounding convinced.
He cringed. “Ouch. That could’ve been a lot worse. Fatal, even. Whatever move you pulled to avoid colliding was worth it.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him, her face softening. “Thanks,” she said, noting the blonde hair peeking out from the back of his helmet. He hadn’t lifted the mirror visor, which hid his face. All she could see under the helmet were a sexy neck, Adam’s apple, and stubble, besides broad shoulders on a lean frame. He wore faded blue jeans, black boots, and a blue t-shirt under a white-and-blue summer riding jacket. “You always leave your visor down?”
“Sorry. No. It broke this morning. If I get it up, I won’t be able to get it back down, and catching a bug in the face sucks.”
“You have trouble getting it up?”
He hadn’t expected the joke and laughed, exaggerating the motion of looking her up and down. “Not at the moment.” Thinking she seemed amused, he added, “Well, you’re gonna need a ride. Can I take you somewhere? Like my place?”
The look in her eyes wavered between mirth and annoyance. “Does that line work on anyone?”
“You’d be surprised,” he said. Sensing that maybe his repartee hadn’t gone over well, he added, “Sorry. Not a great time for jokes. I was just trying to lighten things up. I know a fall can scare the crap of you.”
She nodded. “Crash much? Maybe I should get a ride from someone else.”
“You might be out here a while if you want to wait. You got a phone to call someone?”
Shaking her head, she said, “Didn’t bring it.”
“Mine died earlier. Forgot to charge it at my last stop. I can run by Clarksburg Motorsports and tell them to come get you. It’s about fifteen minutes away. They’ll need to come anyway to get the bike unless you want someone else to haul it.”
She turned to him and sighed, seeming resigned. “No. I know the place. That’s where I bought it. And they service it. I don’t feel like standing here for the time they’ll take to get here. Let’s go.” She headed toward his bike and he followed through the tall grass. He lowered the rear foot pegs and got on the front seat.
He had a knack for making suggestive remarks that were technically innocent, so he said, as if unaware of the double-entendre, “I don’t usually let a woman ride my crotch rocket so soon after meeting.”
“I find that hard to believe,” she said, smiling wryly. She stepped on a peg, grabbed his shoulder, and easily lifted herself behind him, sitting down gracefully. She squeezed her legs against his, her crotch against his ass. “Take me to the strip mall in Comus. I work there.”
“Okay.” Over one shoulder, he advised, “Try to find something hard to hold onto.”
“I’m afraid to ask what you had in mind.” She put her visor back down and wrapped both arms around him from behind.
“You’re gonna want to grip harder than that,” he said, starting the engine, which came to life with a loud growl due to the aftermarket exhaust system he’d installed. When she didn’t hold tighter, he smirked and took off with a small wheelie that caused her to yelp in surprise and squeeze hard with both arms and legs, her head pressed against his back. He let the wheel down softly and noticed she didn’t lighten her grip as he continued more safely, the heat of her warming him through his back, legs, and ass.
He was no stranger to women mounting his crotch rocket, whether that was his bike or not. Those who rode one were willing to ride the other. The lone exception had been Victoria, his high school sweetheart. Her father had been killed in a motorcycle accident, making her deathly afraid of them and for Tristan once they’d fallen in love. His high-speed shenanigans had caused no end of fights. When she found out he wanted to be a pro rider, she’d freaked. He’d certainly never gotten her onto the bike, which had bothered him. If you can’t share one love of your life with the other love of your life, something’s amiss. For him, it had taken some of the steam out of their bond and ultimately made it easier for him to leave town, even though he understood her fears. He hadn’t seen her in the five years since or learned what became of her except that she’d left town, too, but he was hoping to find out something about that now that he was back, however briefly. Maybe he’d even go looking for her.
The girl currently on his bike—and he only now realized he hadn’t gotten her name—distracted him from the thought when she unzipped his jacket some and slid one hand inside. Tristan’s pulse raced, his hand inadvertently pulling on the throttle so the bike revved like his heart. Her hand caressed his chest a few times, giving him a squeeze before dropping to his belly, running over his six-pack abs slowly, as if counting the ripples under the shirt. He struggled to keep his mind on the road and half-wondered if this is how she’d crashed. Had she been riding with some other guy and made him leave the road, his body nowhere in sight among the wreckage?
The thought brought him to his senses, but not for long. Her other hand slipped down to his inner thigh, close to his growing erection, and she playfully squeezed his ass with her legs, making him wish he was facing the other way and buck naked. This woman would be the death of them both, but if he got her back to her place and got her to mount his other rocket, the sex just might be worth the risk of bodily harm now. He’d give her a lift-off worthy of a Space Shuttle launch and all the media coverage that came with.
By the time they pulled into the only strip mall in Comus, where four businesses lay in a row, with parking out front, his visor had begun to fog up. His passenger pointed at a shop that said “Pilates” above it, and he smiled to himself as they parked before it, hoping she was an instructor. Flexibility in a woman was a good thing.
Looking for an excuse to get inside, he asked, “Can I use your bathroom?”
“Sure,” she said, turning toward the door and pulling her helmet off with her back to him. A tumble of silken brown hair fell out over her leather-covered back. She unlocked the door and went in without looking at him. He followed, fumbling with his helmet strap, finally getting the whole thing off just as she turned to face him. He barely saw her face before she slapped him.
“You bastard!” she screamed. “Get out!”
The color drained from Tristan’s face before anger brought it back in a flash. Then he got a good look at her and his mouth fell open.
Welcome Randi Everhart!
Randi Everheart is an avid author of romance, due in no small part to being a diehard romantic. After all, Randi once wrote a song for the object of a crush and penned a fifty page love letter for another! The same spirit now flows into these stories – hopefully to win your heart!
Randi has a Bachelors of Music in classical guitar but has always been more of a rocker, having released several albums under another name. Tendonitis in both arms ended career plans in music, leading to a new career as a software developer. Today Randi co-owns a software consulting firm and lives in the Maryland suburbs north of D.C., is married, and loves spending time with son Ryan when not writing, playing guitar or golf, or writing smut.
Thursday, January 8th, 2015
Fraudulent car accidents is a multi-million dollar racket, involving unscrupulous medical providers, personal injury attorneys, and the cooperating passengers involved in the accidents and who also receive a portion of the illegal proceeds. Such is the fate of newly engaged, Nathan and Shari, whose joy is tempered by the dark cloud of mounting debt. A chance encounter with a stranger in whom Shari confides her troubles, proves fortuitous: he tells her of a get-rich-quick scheme that will put her and her fiance on easy street. Seduced by the chance to move from hard times to good times in no time, she finds herself acting as a stuffed passenger the victim in a staged auto accident. Shari gets her payday, but getting out and breaking free of the insurance fraud underworld will take nothing short of a miracle. A modern day cautionary tale that uncovers how the innocent get lured into the scheme of cappers and hammers.
As the blare of the clock radio on the night table jolted her awake, Shari Barnes rubbed her eyes, blew her long brown hair out of her face, and snuggled into Nathan Townsend’s chest. She curled her body around his middle and took a deep whiff of his salty, masculine neck.
But she couldn’t ignore the voice on the radio.
“Monday morning traffic,” she sighed.
Nathan matched the sigh and put his arms around her. “At least you don’t have to drive over the hill.”
“Yeah, I would just die if I had to drive into Beverly Hills every day to work in a beautiful office.”
Shari giggled and disappeared under their thick blue comforter for a few more moments of sleepy-headed bliss. She felt Nathan stretch up, and a moment later the radio shut off. Then he slid down next to her in the single bed they shared in their Studio City apartment, a few blocks north of Ventura Boulevard. The constant drone and rumble of another L.A. morning came clearly through the open window: cars honking, rock music blaring, the frantic scurrying sounds of the film shoot a few blocks away. Shari ran her bare feet up the inside of Nathan’s thigh.
He jumped. “Shit, your feet are cold.” He pushed her legs off of him.
“What time is it?” she murmured between kisses.
“Um, seven.” He nuzzled her neck and she felt him becoming erect against her.
“No time for that!” She threw off the covers. “Gotta be at work on time for once; gotta get my asp out of bed.”
“There’s a snake in the bed?” Nathan grabbed her with both hands and gave her belly gentle nips.
“Yeah, of the one-eyed variety.”
Shari leaped to the floor and padded naked into the bathroom. She turned the hot water in the shower to high and stepped in, filling the small bathroom with steam.
She had just poured a green drop of shampoo into her palm and was running her hands together when the flimsy yellow and white shower curtain flew back and Nathan grinned in at her. She smiled back, surprised by neither his arrival nor the partial hard-on that preceded him.
“Mind if we join you?” he asked.
“There’s enough shampoo for everybody,” Shari said as she rubbed her hands across her scalp.
He stepped into the stall, pulled the curtain closed and began to lather her hair for her. She put her hands on his back, feeling the taut muscles and the water streaming there, but did not reach down between them. It took him about five seconds to realize it and hold her away.
“Don’t lie; I can always tell when you have something on your mind.”
“You know me better than I know me,” she said.
“You know it.” He pushed her wet hair over her shoulders. “Come on, give.”
“I was thinking maybe I should get a second job.”
“You’re worrying about money again?”
“Well, I have to shoot my student thesis film this year or I won’t graduate. But where am I going to get the money I need?”
“How much do you need?”
“At least five figures.”
Meet the AUTHOR:
Lindy S. Hudis is a graduate of New York University, where she studied drama at Tisch School of the Arts. She is the author of several titles, including her romance suspense novel, Weekends, her “Hollywood” story City of Toys, and her crime novel, Crashers. She is also the author of an erotic short story series, “The S&M Club” and “The Mile High Club”. Her short film “The Lesson” was screened at the Seattle Underground Film Festival and Cine-Nights in 2000. She is also an actress, having appeared in the television daytime drama “Sunset Beach”. She and her husband, Hollywood stuntman Stephen Hudis, have formed their own production company called Impact Motion Pictures, and have several projects and screenplays in development. She lives in California with her husband and two children.