Posts Tagged ‘My Sexy Saturday’
It’s Saturday, and you know what that means: Time for another sizzling trip down desire lane with the My Sexy Saturday blog hop.
The rules are simple:
Post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words. The choice is yours. It can be from a WIP or something you already have published. Your post should be live by 9 am US Pacific Time on Saturday. Put those lucky 7s to work for you!
Today, I’m sharing something a little different. This excerpt is from TROUBLE IN PARADISE, the WIP I’m having trouble finishing at the moment. It’s not the sexiest moment in my manuscript, but it cracks me up every time — and I feel the need to laugh this week.
Bethany and Cody, the heroine and hero in said WIP, might be giving me fits, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love them both.
You might remember Beth and Cody as the best friends from BLIND DATE BRIDE — the ones that got more wedding-night action than the bride and groom.
TROUBLE IN PARADISE picks up nine months after BRIDE leaves off. Bethany, worried Cody might be losing interest, wants him to apply for another Romance TV show, “Invitation to Sin.” Cody is firmly anti-reality-TV after seeing what his buddy went through, but agrees to apply because he figures they won’t get picked for the show — no way will Romance TV lightning strike their circle twice.
Except it does, and soon Beth and Cody find themselves on Bora Bora with a TV production crew and a pack of other contestants, fighting to not only win the grand prize but hold together their previously solid relationship.
In this scene, Beth and Cody have gathered with the other contestants at Romance TV HQ for a meet-and-greet reception.
***
Cody munched on pineapple and mango chunks and sipped the punch. He hoped there wasn’t any alcohol in it, because it tasted vaguely pina colada-ish. Then again, he didn’t have to drive, so what was he worried about? He took another gulp. Beside him, Bethany sipped her drink, too. Suddenly, she spit it back into her cup and started coughing.
He put his drink down. “You okay, sweetheart?”
Clearly not okay, she shook her head. Her face was redder than the cherry on top of the chocolate and whipped cream cookie he’d picked up for her. When she stopped coughing, she whispered, “Did you get a good look at the ice cubes?”
“No.”
“Why don’t you do that?”
Puzzled, he picked up his glass again and studied the ice — cubes shaped like penises and breasts. Come to think of it, that cherry-topped cookie looked like a boob, too.
He looked back at the table of refreshments, seeing it for the first time for the work of “art” it was undoubtedly intended to be. Things were arranged to resemble … well, hell. The spread looked just like a woman’s spread legs, with the cookies in the center, spilling sweetness into the vast, empty middle.
“Trouble in Paradise,” coming in Fall 2014.
It’s my favorite time of the week again: Time to share an excerpt for the My Sexy Saturday blog hop.
The rules, in case you’ve forgotten:
Post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words. The choice is yours. It can be from a WIP or something you already have published. Your post should be live by 9 am US Pacific Time on Saturday. Put those lucky 7s to work for you!
This week, I’m giving you seven paragraphs from the beginning of OVEREXPOSED, the third book in my Women of Willow’s Grove collection. This time, Mike James, the object of Erin’s lust at the start of OPERATION SNAG MIKE BRAD (Book 1), finally gets the happy ending he doesn’t believe he deserves.
Before he gets there, though, he has to go through a whole lot more torture and self-flagellation.
I’ve always liked Mike. He’s pure figment of my imagination — but that’s not to say my imagination wasn’t sparked by a coworker. The guy was Greek-god-gorgeous, like Mike. Flirty and funny, too (also like Mike). Anything Mike does (or did … or didn’t do) is all on me, though.
In this scene, heroine Breanne Garvey (photographer for the Willow’s Grove Journal-Times), is at the tiny town’s male strip joint for her roommate’s bachelorette bash. She doesn’t yet know that Mike, her coworker at the paper, moonlights there.
How much you want to bet she’s about to find out? 😉
***
This “Masked Avenger” reminded her of Mike: Tall, blond and — behind his black Lone Ranger-type mask — chock-full of cuteness potential. The man had well-defined thighs, and when he turned around to shake his rear end in her face, she could see that it, too, was in perfect shape. And every inch of exposed skin was a nice, even golden color — the color of smooth clover honey.
Just like Mike’s tan.
Suddenly the idea of flirting with this guy didn’t seem nearly as far-fetched. She was only a virgin, not dead — and having Mike James dance for her was full of potential. Intriguing possibilities blossomed in her fertile brain … ideas a good girl would never act on.
No harm in looking, her inner rebel assured her.
For once, she listened. After all, it was likely the only chance she’d ever have to see Mike in the flesh. If he hadn’t picked up on the “let’s date” vibes she’d been sending him for the last year and a half, she doubted he ever would — although she’d never understand how a guy who loved women could be so darned oblivious to her hints.
Pretending it was her colleague in front of her, she dropped her hands so she could enjoy the view. She even went so far as to accept the bill Cassie waved under her nose. Why not have some fun? Cassie was right: She wasn’t getting any younger.
But where do I put it?
Welcome back to another My Sexy Saturday. I’ve really been having fun with this blog hop, and I hope you are, too.
The rules are simple:
Post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words. The choice is yours. It can be from a WIP or something you already have published. Your post should be live by 9 am US Pacific Time on Saturday. Put those lucky 7s to work for you!
Last Saturday, I shared a deleted scene from “Diva in the Dugout,” the book I just sold to Turquoise Morning Press. I signed the contract last Thursday. It’s my first sale. I was — and still am — very excited.
But this week, I’m going back to my holiday novella, “Home for the Holidays.” Here, Cher and Derrick just arrived at an Italian restaurant for dinner. This is the evening of the day they met up again at the accident scene.
I normally go the seven paragraph route, but this week I picked just seven sentences. I think they’re good ones. I hope you agree.
***
When they were seated at DeLuca’s, Cher dove into the basket of garlic bread with the enthusiasm Derrick usually saved for more carnal pursuits. Come to think of it, her moan of pleasure as she licked the butter from her fingers reminded him of a woman enjoying herself in bed. When her eyes rolled back in her head and she moaned again, Derrick squirmed in his chair.
He tried cooling himself off with a sip of water. “You really love that bread, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” She savored another bite before leaning across the table to whisper, “Sometimes, I dream about it.”
“Home for the Holidays,” coming to e-bookstores near you in November 2013.
To celebrate the sale of DIVA IN THE DUGOUT to Turquoise Morning Press, I’m digging deep for this week’s My Sexy Saturday blog hop.
The rules are simple:
Post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words. The choice is yours. It can be from a WIP or something you already have published. Your post should be live by 9 am US Pacific Time on Saturday. Put those lucky 7s to work for you!
Like I said, I’m going way, way back in my archives for this septuplet — back to DIVA’s roots. That’s right: These seven paragraphs kicked off the now-deleted first chapter of the story.
After my readers/CP insisted the chapter was really a prologue (it happened five years before the main story) and painted neither hero nor heroine likable enough, I dutifully chopped the scene that I loved. I still love that scene, which has some fantastic lines … but I know how to accept criticism. After a little — okay, a lot — of whining, I deleted the whole darn thing — and blogged about it.
I may have cut the scene from the MS, but I saved it with the hope that one day I could release it as an online extra — a “wanna see how it all began?” teaser. (File name: HowItAllBegan.doc.) That day hasn’t come — yet. But I can offer a tantalizing glimpse of what almost was.
The setup (directly from my query letter):
Melinda Cline was a rash, almost 20-year-old motormouth when her high-school sweetheart dumped her weeks before their wedding. She took solace in the arms of the first hottie she had the pleasure to meet, a sexy-as-sin ballplayer whose name she insisted she didn’t want to know.
Mel meets Dave Reynolds, shortstop for the semipro Arizona Condors, at her favorite watering hole, which she snuck into with a fake ID. These seven paragraphs were the original first seven.
* * *
When Melinda’s now-ex-fiance admonished her to grow up, she doubted playing tonsil hockey with a man old enough to be her father was what he’d had in mind.
The thought jarred Mel just enough to make her end the kiss. Through lowered lashes, she regarded the man whose lap she currently warmed. Saying he was her father’s age wasn’t fair. Old enough to be her slightly older brother, maybe. But definitely not her father.
She took stock of his lithe torso. Defined biceps. Warm, easy smile. Nope. No signs of middle age marring the perfection that was —
What was his name? Dan? Drew? Del? Dave? Why couldn’t she remember?
Who was she trying to kid? She didn’t want to remember. His name didn’t matter — not one whit. It was far more important that he was here, all too willing to distract her from the spectacle in the corner.
Her ex of just two weeks had the gall to be at her favorite bar, canoodling with a blonde who looked — well, old enough to be his mother. No wonder Bud told her to “grow up” if that was his type.
She cast a mutinous glance toward Bud’s corner. He wanted someone older than 19? She’d show him just how grown up she could be.
* * *
Hmm. Reading that now, I can see my readers’ point: Mel isn’t terribly likable here. Dave fares no better as the scene goes on. Perhaps I need to rethink releasing the deleted scene, one-liners or no.
Diva in the Dugout, coming soon from Turquoise Morning Press.
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