Besides the debut of The Men of Hilton Hall serial, the novellas You Give Good Love and RUSH will be released early this month (I’m working hard on making it this Wednesday, Feb 5th).
There’s also the side bar blog post of The Tools of Seduction, where I list the scenes from some of my books that have the leads coming together in various romantic ways.
First though, here’s a brief excerpt from You Give Good Love, where the Russian/African American heroine Marina Roth gets her first glimpse of Eric Decker:
Excerpt from You Give Good Love:
Okay, okay. My daughter says nobody cares about their meeting. She wanted me to post something a bit more erotic:
“I’d worship every part of you,” his said, while his thumb circled her nipple with a maddening, airy touch. Worst of all, he stopped just when she could feel herself clinch. “But I can respect that we just met, and you don’t know me-”
Damn it. She wanted him to stuff his mouth with her breasts. She wanted his face buried in her crotch. “Oh will you just shut up.” She fisted his collar, pulling his face to hers. Now this was a man who knew how to kiss. Her hands moved to span his chest so she could touch every muscle, from his six pack abs to those hard as rock pectorals. She could swear he groaned once his lips left hers. Sugar, we’re going down. ‘Cause his perfect orb of a head was descending right where it could do the most good. And the most damage.
Here’s the “meeting” excerpt:
With their bout moving fast and furious, she managed to nick him in the cheek with a counterpunch. In response he gave her a wicked smile. At least he was smart enough not be a braggart. There was no macho posing, no beckoning with his fingers for her to bring it. That kind of posturing was only done in the movies. In a real fight, the cooler head and skill set usually triumphed. But the operative word was “usually” because they were both at a disadvantage with the amount of people boxing them in.
Busy dancing out of the way as he attacked, she couldn’t help wondering what the hell they fighting for. On a hunch, Marina gave him the universal sign for stop. With her arm outstretched she held up her palm. Her other hand snaked around to her backside and the waistband of her pants, where she pulled out a 9mm. With both of her arms raised above her head she gave him an choice. And a way out. Contemplating her offer, his satiny black as night brows lowered, almost blocking out large upturned eyes that were just as dark. Then he backed just far enough out of reach to give her reason to hope.
Since the action was on pause, she made a mental note of who she was up against.
White shirt stained with blood, skinny black tuxedo pants that hugged every inch of his extra long thighs and legs. High cheekbones, dark brown skin so smooth she’d kill to have a complexion that flawless. His face was slick with sweat from fighting, but it only made the contours of his exquisite cheekbones and strong, lantern jaw more prominent. With a shirt molded to his chest like a second skin, each time he took a heaving breath the outline of his muscles expanded and retracted. His face looked familiar, but with her mind whirling there was no way to place where she’d seen him before.
Just when she thought they’d reached an agreement the little shit she was guarding rolled down the limo window, screaming at her from behind. “Kick his ass! That’s what I’m paying you for!”
Dropping her arms but never taking her eyes of her fine as hell opponent, she shouted, “I’ll kick your little ass if you don’t shut the fuck up!”
Everyone had a nervous laugh at that, with some of Leighton’s fans muttering in agreement that he needed to stay out of it. Unfortunately, Diesel had finally come to. Letting out a mighty yell, he barreled into the guard’s ribcage. Finally. It finally dawned on him to use his extra-heavy frame to wrestle and not to try doing hand to hand combat with this guy. As females and a few men screamed, Diesel threw Shericka’s guard to the ground. Once Diesel had him pinned, he made another mistake. When he rose to draw back a wobbly fist, quicker than you could say WTF? The guy had enough room and adrenalin to deliver a very nasty head butt. The crack from their skulls colliding made the entire crowd groan in sympathy, and Diesel was out like a light once again as the guard rolled him off his chest. The victor got up, but very gingerly, his narrowed eyes scanning the onlookers until he met hers again.
His expression said it all. He thought she’d set him up. And now there’d be hell to pay.
End of Excerpts