Posts Tagged ‘My Sexy Saturday’
Can you feel the excitement? I sure can.
My debut romance, DIVA IN THE DUGOUT, will be up for sale at Turquoise Morning Press this week. To celebrate, this week’s My Sexy Saturday seven are from that story. (Yes, this time I’m using a snippet from the actual book, not something I cut.)
This moment comes at the end of a long, emotionally charged day, the day Dave and his daughter meet for the first time, under mamma Melinda’s watchful—and slightly green—eye. Mel’s having trouble reconciling how enamored Tara is with all things “Daddy,” in part because she, too, is still attracted to the man.
When Tara demands that Dave be the one to put her to bed and read her a bedtime story, Mel can’t resist peeking in. Touched by the sight of father and daughter together at last, her emotions are churning when she sits down on the couch with Dave.
***
When he reached out to brush her hair off her face, Mel reared back. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Dave’s grin flickered on in full force, and something else melted inside her. “Renewing our acquaintance.”
There had to be something wrong with that idea, but Mel suddenly couldn’t think what. She leaned into him, her lips parted, already begging for a kiss.
His lips settled over hers and his tongue swept into her mouth. Her senses swirled with the touch of his tongue until she barely noticed he was repositioning her onto his lap.
Mel’s body remembered. Her nipples puckered and her panties grew damp in response to the erection nudging through two layers of denim. Dave deepened the kiss. His hands settled on her hips, bringing the most intimate part of her more firmly in contact with him.
Caught up in old memories and new sensations, she didn’t object when he eased her back against the arm of the couch and started fumbling with the button on her shorts. She wasn’t thinking of Tara, just upstairs, or the fact that Luanne would arrive any minute.
She wanted—no, needed—this. Sex. With Muscles. She hadn’t had intimate relations with anyone since…since a disastrous reunion attempt with Bud when Tara was nine months old.
DIVA IN THE DUGOUT, out this week!
It’s Saturday! That means it’s time for My Sexy Saturday. *Cue happy dance.*
The rules:
Post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words ONLY. 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!
Since I just turned BEAUTY AND THE BALLPLAYER in to my my editor, it’s uppermost in my thoughts. This week’s sexy seven are part of a scene between Meg and Matt. They’ve just paused for a kiss in a Flagstaff park.
***
A whistle split the air, breaking the spell Matt had cast over her with his kiss. She looked in the direction from which it had come and saw a teenage boy grinning at them. He flashed them a thumbs-up.
Meg felt her cheeks get warm. “I think you have a fan.”
“Are you kidding? He’s probably staring at you. I’m just a guy. You’re the babe.”
There he went again, handing out unnecessary compliments. She rolled her eyes. “And you’re the baseball player. I bet he recognizes you.”
Matt shook his head and motioned at the kid, who edged closer to them, eyebrows lifted in an unspoken question. Matt asked, “Do you know who I am?”
When the teen shook his head and ambled off, Matt grinned. “Told you he was admiring you.”
“Or he was admiring your technique,” she shot back.
Beauty and the Ballplayer, coming in March 2014 from Turquoise Morning Press.
Thank goodness for My Sexy Saturday. Without its weekly posts, this blog would get none of my attention at all.
Does it matter that I’m waist-deep in the first draft of my third Love and Baseball story? It’s still untitled for now, but I’m falling for Anne Marie Becker‘s suggestion, SLIDING INTO HOME. It works on more than one level:
- The hero, Greg, who’s always done all he can to distance himself from his famous father, has to make peace with dear ol’ dad. He must find his way home—both figuratively and literally.
- And then there’s the obvious baseball analogy involving Greg and his heroine, Jenn. Will he score with her? (Would he be the hero of a sexy romance if he didn’t?)
What do you think? Do I have a winner with SLIDING INTO HOME?
I just got word from Turquoise Morning Press that they’ve slated my next two stories, BEAUTY AND THE BALLPLAYER and the untitled masterpiece I’m currently writing madly, for March 2014 and April 2014, respectively. That’s just in time for a new baseball season …
But for now, I want to focus on my October release, DIVA IN THE DUGOUT*. For this week’s sexy seven, I’m returning to that deleted opening scene. After Dave and Mel had their fun, here’s how the morning after plays out.
***
She tiptoed around the room, gathering up her clothes. She found her skirt on the bathroom doorknob and her shirt on the floor beside the bed. Her bra dangled from the corner of the mirror. Her panties —
Where were her panties? She didn’t see them anywhere. They weren’t on the floor, or the chair or even the bathroom door. Wait — there they were, tangled in the sheet at Muscles’ feet. It looked like they were wrapped around his big toe.
Well, hell. She’d never get them back without disturbing his slumber.
Stifling a sigh, Mel slipped into the rest of her clothes and made her way to the door. Sans panties, she’d have to watch every step of the long walk home.
As she quietly closed the door behind her, she made a mental note to herself: Next time you’re having anonymous sex with a hot stranger, be more careful where you throw your clothes.
Or wear pants.
This time, Mel didn’t scoff at her conscience. Pants sounded like an excellent idea. If she ever wanted to have revenge sex with another hot, nameless stranger, she’d do it in denim.
DIVA IN THE DUGOUT, coming in October 2013 from Turquoise Morning Press.
*Scene not included in book.
Er … don’t get the wrong idea. There’s only one Wild Boy, actually.
I just couldn’t resist the chance to misappropriate another ’80s song title for a blog post. (Like The Escape Club, I’m living in the ’80s— just not headed for the ’90s. We’re smack-dab in the middle of 2013. Yikes. How did that happen?)
It’s Saturday again, and I’m sure you haven’t stopped by my blog to listen to me wax nostalgic for ’80s music. You’re here to check out this week’s My Sexy Saturday offering, right?
The rules, for those of you playing for the first time:
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!
A while back, I treated you to seven paragraphs of deleted material from DIVA IN THE DUGOUT. With DIVA coming out in less than a month*, I thought I’d give you another seven deleted paragraphs, this time from Dave’s point of view—hence the Wild Boy in the title.
Five years ago, when he and Mel first met, Dave was as wild as they come. Now, his challenge is to shed that bad boy image once and for all and step into the toughest role of his life: Fatherhood.
Keep in mind, this is from the first chapter that I decided was really a prologue before ruthlessly slashing it from the finished manuscript. (A hero and heroine both behaving badly made neither look sympathetic.)
***
Arizona Condors shortstop Dave Reynolds cocked his head as he considered the perky blonde’s question. He was always up for a little off-the-field action.
“What do you have?”
Her smile widened as she brushed her breasts against his chest again. God, she was beautiful. The short, spiky haircut emphasized her green eyes and full, pouty lips — classic beauty queen looks some women would kill for. “You mean I’m not enough?”
When she seemed ready to pull away, Dave held her fast. Hard nipples contrasted with soft, full tits. The concierge at his team’s hotel had said the locals were friendly, but this woman’s greeting went beyond friendly. She’d plopped into his lap and kissed him “hello.” Now she wanted to party.
The party in his pants was already in full swing, due in large part to her enthusiasm. Not that he was surprised. Women loved athletes, and he took full advantage of the Condors’ road trips to get his share of tail. It wasn’t usually quite this easy, though. Apparently everything — including desire — was bigger in Texas.
“You never answered my question.” The blonde watched him expectantly.
He noted the freckles dusting her nose. Despite her objection to being called young, she couldn’t be much more than 18 years old. But at 24, it wasn’t like he was over the hill. And if this barely legal Texas babe wanted to party, who was he to say no?
Dave swallowed again. “I think you’ll be more than enough.”
DIVA IN THE DUGOUT, coming from Turquoise Morning Press the week of Oct. 15. (*Scene not included.)
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