tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73796633832705298612024-02-19T07:51:17.996-08:00Claire MatthewsWelcome to the blog of romance writer Claire MatthewsUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger32125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-49481200582297687592013-02-14T08:42:00.002-08:002013-02-14T08:42:25.000-08:00Preview--Millie Fisher Gets A Life"Millie Fisher Gets A Life" is the third title in the Lucy Wagner series. Book Three shifts the focus back to Will and Lucy, and recounts their adventures as newlyweds and first-time parents. Here's a blurb and a preview--hope you enjoy!
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<i>Six-month old Millie Fisher's getting the hang of life on the run--her Mommy's busy with her new job, and Daddy's busy with the pretty lady who talks about work and makes Mommy frown. Then there's Grandma (who also makes Mommy frown), Auntie Jen (who makes Mommy laugh), and Mr. Ramirez (who makes Mommy pull out her wallet every time he comes to fix another accident around the house). It's almost too much for a baby to keep up with, but Millie's determined to grab some attention for herself--even if it's in the most dramatic of ways.</i>
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CHAPTER ONE
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I close the car door and feel the shame engulf me, as it always does the moment I drop Millie off at daycare and drive towards campus. It’s relief—relief from the responsibility, the worry, the exhaustion. Relief to be alone--just me, and my thoughts, and the tinny drone of the car stereo in the background.
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It only lasts a moment—no longer than it takes to hit the entrance ramp to the freeway—and is quickly replaced with a sweet longing to see her smile, squeeze her chubby feet, run my finger over her velvety cheek. But it still crushes me with guilt, my fleeting delight at being released from motherly duties, if only for a few hours every Tuesday and Thursday morning.
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I’ve arranged a part-time teaching schedule at Houston Lutheran College, which was no small feat, considering I was only hired six months ago. But I worked out a twelve-month modified workload before accepting the position, and the department chair, Evelyn King, has been nothing but supportive.
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My cell phone rings as I circle the parking lot in front of the general academic building.
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“Hey, <i>hey</i>, hey,” says my husband Will through the Bluetooth speakers in the dashboard. He’s become obsessed with “What’s Happenin’” on Nick at Night.
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“Hey, White Rerun.”
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“How was the monkey drop?” Will always calls to ask how Millie and I handled the daycare drop-off. I’ll admit that the first few weeks were full of tears and anxiety, but now I can’t help but wonder if he calls just to make sure I haven’t forgotten her in the back seat.
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“Smooth as silk. What’s on your agenda for today? Are you and Dwayne gonna hang out at Rog’s house after school?”
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“Nah, we thought we’d go to the Regal Beagle and pick up chicks.”
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“That’s ‘Three’s Company,’ you dork.”
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“Not anymore. I’m staging a crossover show in my head. It’ll either be called ‘What’s Company?’ or ‘Three’s Happenin’.”
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“Well, it sounds promising, honey. Which will it have, the Ropers, or Mr. Furley?”
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“The Ropers, of course. I’m not a fan of the Furley ascot.”
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“So few are,” I tut sympathetically.
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“Don’t be cheeky. Remember I’ve got that meeting with the new post-doc at four, so why don’t I pick up some burgers on the way home?”
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“Just a chicken sandwich for me. Last time I had a burger, Millie was up all night.” I spot a parking space and swerve in jerkily, ignoring the death glare I receive from the driver of an oncoming Subaru Forester.
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“It was the onions, not the burger,” Will says wearily. We’ve had this discussion more times than I care to count, but he’s crazy if he thinks I’m giving up my onions for the sake of breastfeeding.
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“Whatever. I’m gonna be late for class—I’ll see you tonight.”
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“I love you, Mama.” He says this to make me gag, and as always, he succeeds.
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“I love you too, freak-boy,” I say before handing up and dragging my slightly saggy mommy-ass into the office.
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***
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Millie and I are home by two o’clock, and after I feed her and get her down for her afternoon nap, I grab a box of Mint Milanos from the pantry and plop myself on the couch with my cell phone. As I scan my contact list for my best friend Jen’s number, I’m startled by an incoming call. And it’s far from a pleasant surprise.
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“Hi Linda,” I answer, my voice dripping with fake enthusiasm. Will’s mother has always been nice, if a bit distant, but since Millie was born, she’s taken every opportunity to let me know how lacking I am in the mothering department.
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“Lucy, hello! How’s my baby?” I’m never sure if she’s talking about the real baby or Will, but to keep from being creeped out, I assume she’s asking after Millie.
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“Gorgeous, brilliant…loud,” I laugh, hoping she’ll join in.
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“Sweetheart, I told you, you’ve got to swaddle her if you want her to sleep through the night.”
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“She’s only four months old, Linda—I’m not sure she’s ready to sleep through the night without a feeding.”
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“Nonsense! Tracey and Will both slept through the night at eight weeks.”
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I stick my tongue out at the phone, then put her on speaker so I can stuff a cookie in my mouth.
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“Listen,” Linda continues, undeterred by my silence. “I picked up a few outfits at the mall and thought I’d drop them over this evening. I haven’t squeezed those cheeks in over a week, I think I’m having withdrawals.” Once again, I’m praying that she’s talking about Millie here.
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“Sure, sounds great.” No, it doesn’t. “Will probably won’t be home until seven, and I usually put Millie down by eight, so--”
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“I’ll just come early, say around five?” I guess I grunt in assent, because she continues on. “Wonderful, see you then. Did you need me to bring some of that hypoallergenic laundry detergent? Millie’s skin seemed a bit dry last time I saw her.”
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“No, Linda, she’s fine. We’re use the baby detergent that the pediatrician recommended, and it seems to be working out. Thank you, though.” I add as an afterthought.
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“Well, honey, you just let me know if you need anything. I can’t imagine trying to work when my little ones were infants. I don’t think I would’ve had the time to care for them properly.”
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<i>Aaand,</i> she goes for the kill. Wow, it took less than two minutes this time--a personal best for Linda Fisher, folks!
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“Times have changed,” I say wearily. She tisks a bit in response, and I hoover another cookie. I hear Millie begin to wail. It’s going to be a long evening.
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***
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By the time I get the baby settled and check the mail, I’ve forgotten about calling Jen, so I’m happy to see her name flash on my caller id as I settle on the floor for a little tummy time with Millie.
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“You awake?” She asks by way of greeting. She knows how sleep-deprived I am, and always makes sure I’m fully conscious before she begins a conversation.
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“Yep. Millie and I are waiting for Mother Fisher to get here with her broom and barbed comments.”
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“Oooh, have you been feeding the kid pixie sticks again? I told you mother-in-laws frown on that crap.”
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“Yes. And I’ve been torturing her with non-hypoallergenic laundry detergent. I’m sure Linda’s alerting the authorities as we speak.” I try to keep the resentment out of my voice, but I’m the first to admit that I’m doing a sucky job at it.
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“Get Will to put that bitch in her place,” commands Jen. I love Jen to death, but she’s not exactly one to mince words.
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“Yeah, because he’s just dying to get in the middle of a pissing match between his wife and his mother.”
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“His <i>smother.</i>”
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“Whatever. How did Dax’s birthday surprise turn out?” Jen’s boyfriend’s birthday was last Friday, and her plan was to meet him at the door of their apartment dressed as a Kardashian (I can’t remember which one). I’m still not sure why, since Jen is prettier than any of the Kardashians, but I think she was just using it as an excuse to meet him at the door dressed as a skank.
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“Oh, not so great at first. He thought I was Morticia from ‘The Addams Family’. But then I just went with it, and told him he had to be Gomez, and…let’s just say it worked out well in the end.”
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“It’s so retro kinky,” I giggle, trying to imagine Dax kissing a trail up Jen’s arm while murmuring to her in French.
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“So let’s swim tomorrow morning,” Jen says, quick to change the subject. As brash and in-your-face as Jenny can be, she’s always been surprisingly close-mouthed about the intimacies of her relationship with Dax.
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“Can’t. Millie has Gymboree.”
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“What the hell is Gymboree?”
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“Some kind of infant exercise class,” I mutter reluctantly, because I know what’s coming next.
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“Are you serious? She’s four months old! Her exercise consists of crying and farting.”
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“I know, I know, but Linda bought her all these sessions, and I’d feel like crap if I didn’t take her.” Jen’s silence speaks volumes. I forge ahead, determined to put a positive spin on things. “Plus,
I get to meet other moms, so it’s not all bad.”
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“Yeah, the kind of moms who sign their infants up for exercise class. Jesus, what will they think of next—baby massage? Baby yoga?” I’m not going to be the one to tell Jen that both of these already exist.
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“Go swim without me, and then meet us for coffee at the Campus Grounds at ten.”
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“Won’t Millie need time to stretch and shower first?”
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“Shut up. I’ll see you then.” We both hang up, having dropped the goodbyes from our telephone conversations years ago. As I turn to the baby, she gives me a wet, toothless grin. She’s clearly proud of herself for rolling over from tummy to back, and I don’t have the heart to roll her back over again.
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“Mills, do me a favor and be extra adorable for Grandma when she gets here,” I beg pathetically. Millie gives me a slobbery grin, managing to drool enough for three St. Bernards. I sigh and head off to get her a fresh dress—I’m sure Linda will find some way to blame the kid’s overactive salivary glands on me.
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Want more? Release date is tentatively set for April 22nd!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-77822048015888226432012-08-09T13:12:00.000-07:002012-08-09T13:12:40.394-07:00Ready For Another Preview?Here's the next 1k words of "Jen Morales Gets a Clue"--if you want more, you can find it on Amazon starting September 18th! :)
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I suddenly notice the dark circles under her eyes. Since Lucy usually enters the room farting rainbows, I can tell immediately that something’s up.
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“What’s wrong? You look like shit.” She does, but I still feel horrible when she plops down on the tiny sofa in the corner and begins to sob. Even I can’t stand the sight of Lucy crying—it’s like watching Hitler kick puppies in the rain.
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“What? Tell me, you’re freaking me out,” I wail.
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“I’m freaking <i>me</i> out!”
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“How? Why?” Ugh, I really don’t do tears, but I can’t kick her out of her own office, so I move to sit beside her on the lumpy couch.
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“I’m pregnant,” she whispers. I’m not sure why, as we are the only ones in the room, but I follow her lead.
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“You’re what?” I whisper back, although my whisper sounds more like one of the asides in a junior college production of Macbeth.
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“Knocked up. Bun in the oven. In the family way--”
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“Yeah, yeah, I get it. That was more of a rhetorical question.” I place my hand tentatively on her shoulder, which is still heaving with sobs. When that doesn’t seem to stop her, I pat her back a few times, like I’m trying to persuade a particularly annoying child to move along.
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“This was so not supposed to happen,” Lucy moans. “Not yet. Will and I aren’t even married--”
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“But you’re engaged…or, you know, engaged to be engaged,” I interject.
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“Yes, but we haven’t bought a house, and I haven’t found a job, and God, his mother’s going to be furious, and my Dad, jeez…”
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“Whoa, whoa…slow down, Sassypants. Let’s look at this logically, okay?” Lucy nods, still cradling her face in her palms. “First things first—do you know who the father is?”
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Her snort of laughter makes tears, and possibly a bit of snot, fly from between her fingers. I reach for the tissue box on the credenza and toss it on her lap. She takes one and begins smearing mascara all over her face. I decide not to mention it. It’s so rare that I have the opportunity to look better than Lucy.
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“Okay, let’s just assume it’s Will’s, at least for the time being. What does he have to say for himself?”
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“I haven’t told him yet,” Lucy mumbles into her chest.
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“Figures. Why bother him with the tiny detail of your knocked-up-ness?” For the life of me, sometimes I just don’t get Lucy—I’d go after Dax with a baseball bat the second I found out he got me pregnant.
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“Jen, I just found out for sure, like, an hour ago. I’ll tell him as soon as I can.”
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We sit silently for a few long seconds, until the sound of boots advancing down the hall paralyzes us. Shit, is that Will? What’s he doing here so early?
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“Gooood morning, ladies.” Will scoots through the door with his usual lazy smile, but stops short when he sees Lucy’s obvious distress. “Hey, hey…what’s wrong here?” He kneels in front of her, a concerned look on his face, and I stand quickly—this is my cue to leave, so Luce can give Will a little refresher course on the birds and the bees.
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“I’ll leave you guys to it,” I murmur quickly, grabbing my bag and a cup of yogurt from the fridge. “Have a nice talk.” I can feel Lucy’s eyes stabbing me in the back as I scoot quickly out the door and down the corridor to the much smaller, much messier office that I share with Kevin Ho. Kevin’s okay, I guess, but he’s in a constant state of eating (or preparing to eat) fried rice, which he carries with him everywhere in a yellowed, filmy Tupperware dish.
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“Hello, Jennifer,” he says from behind his immaculate desk, where he’s grading perfectly stacked papers, his bowl of rice sitting at the ready. He calls me Jennifer because it’s the name listed on our office door. That’s the level of intimacy in our relationship, and I’m good with it.
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“What’s shakin’, Ho?” This greeting is purely for my amusement, since it’s the way I greet Lucy ninety percent of the time. The look he gives me could curdle milk, but if I spent my life worrying about what the Kevin Ho’s of the world thought of me, I’d end up in a fetal position on the floor.
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“You’ve had three students in here looking for you this morning. Your office hours started thirty minutes ago.”
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“Sorry,” I sigh, even though I’m not. “I had some personal business to attend to.”
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“It’s your students who deserve the apology,” he replies tersely.
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“Yeah, well, I’ll get right on that,” I grouse. It’s not like my students want anything more than to grade-grub. Luckily for both of us, it’s time for Kevin to go to class.
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Will, Lucy and I teach political science at Southeastern State University, in Houston, Texas. Will’s the bigwig in the crowd, with his tenure-track job and his covered parking space. Lucy just completed her PhD and is searching for a full-time teaching position. I’m still working on my dissertation, hence my office-share with Kevin the crank. If I were a bigger bitch than I already am, I might take pleasure in the fact that Lucy’s percolating ankle-biter has the potential to move me up at least one rung on the employment ladder.
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But I don’t think like that.
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When I’m finally alone, I spread out my grading, dig a red pen out of the second drawer of Kevin’s desk, and open the first of the several hundred ungraded research papers littering my desk. In the first page alone, there are no less than twenty grammatical errors, and a reference to Thomas Jefferson as “Tom”. I toss my (okay, Kevin’s) pen on the desk and pick up the phone to call my mom.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-90721559021492913442012-07-08T19:51:00.000-07:002012-07-08T19:53:53.497-07:00Check out the first 1k words of my new chick-lit novel, "Jen Morales Gets a Clue"I’m still half-asleep, dreaming about eating chicken tacos in the library, when Dax storms into the bedroom, looking for toenail clippers. I know this because he’s demanding “where the fuck are the toenail clippers?” as he pulls out every drawer in my antique dressing table. I pretend to sleep through his mini-tantrum, but I’m not fooling anybody.
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“Jen.” I pull my pillow over my head. “Jen! Have you seen them? They were in the kitchen drawer last week. Did you move them?”
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God, I’m actually going to have this conversation. I throw the pillow off my head and glare at him through sleep-encrusted eyes. “Yes, I saw them. Yes, I moved them. You don’t keep toenail clippers in the kitchen, you foul, filthy man.”
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“So where did you put them?”
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“From now on, we’ll be keeping them in the bathroom drawer. You know, like the rich people do.”
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Completely ignoring the sarcasm in my voice, he retrieves the clippers and plops himself on the edge of the bed, snipping away as slivers of toenail fly across the floor. Some even land in the bed. Lucky me.
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I roll over onto my stomach, hoping to recapture the bliss of tacos in the nonfiction stacks, but my irritation has rendered me fully conscious. Shit.
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“I’m out of here,” Dax announces. He reaches over to slap my ass, like I’m the heifer he’s just entered at the county fair, and I flinch under the sheets. “Do you want to meet me after work at The Duck?”
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“Umm, did you forget that my mom and sister are coming in tonight? We’re meeting them at Papasitos? Does any of this ring a bell?”
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“Oh, shit. Yeah. Okay. Do you think they’ll mind if Ollie tags along? I told him he could stay over tonight—they’re replacing the carpet in his apartment.”
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Ollie is Dax’s younger brother. He’s a sweet kid, but not someone I want my family to interact with—he’s one spliff away from permanent brain damage, and he manages to make Dax look ambitious, if such a thing is even possible.
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“Dax…” I whine. I don’t whine very often, but I really don’t want to spend an evening with my mom and Jeff Spicoli. Seriously, the kid walks around in haze of smoke and Hot Fries crumbs.
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Dax sighs heavily, but I know I’ll get my way. “Okay, I’ll see if he can stay with Jim. What time is dinner again?”
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“Seven. Meet us at the restaurant, and don’t be late.”
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“Yes, dear,” he says in his most nasal, hen-pecked voice. He leans over and kisses my neck, right behind the earlobe, the exact spot that makes my toes wiggle reflexively. “I’m sorry I woke you, go back to sleep,” he whispers. I give him a begrudging hum as he plants a few more hot kisses on my bare shoulder. “I love you.”
<p>
I hum again in response. I never give the ILY back to Dax. I know it makes me sound like a bitch, and maybe I am, but I have my reasons. First, I’m not sure if I love Dax. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been in love with anyone. And second, the ILY bomb has been the beginning of the end of every relationship I’ve ever attempted. When men hear it, they start to go all crass and lazy. And believe me, if Dax goes any more crass and lazy than he already is, he might lose his status as a homo sapien.
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Once he’s gone, I stretch loudly and peruse my surroundings. Toenail clippings litter the floor and bed, and all the drawers in my beloved dressing table remain pulled out at funky angles. The toenail clippers have been tossed on Dax’s nightstand, right next to an empty condom wrapper and an almost empty bottle of Dos Equis.
I slide out of bed and begin to tidy the mess.
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He loves me.
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But where has that gotten us?
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***
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I get to work at ten-thirty, only to find that Lucy isn’t in yet. I dig in my purple plastic messenger bag and use my stolen key to open her office door. Lucy still thinks she lost it when she dropped her purse off the balcony at Will’s apartment last summer. Dumping my bag on her lumpy side chair, I help myself to Frosted Flakes, soaking them liberally with the skim milk I find in her mini-fridge.
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It probably sounds like I take advantage of Lucy, because, you know, I do. But here’s my thinking: cosmically, Lucy needs a bit of dissonance in her life. I mean, she’s gorgeous, smart, almost annoyingly sweet, and in love with her adoring boyfriend Will, who resides on a separate but equally irritating level of perfection. Not that I don’t love them—they are my very best friends. But they can sometimes be a bit too <i>too</i>, you know? So, if, for instance, I steal food from Lucy’s mini-fridge, or Post-it Note the rear windshield of Will’s Jeep, I’m actually doing them a favor. They need more adversity in their lives. Plus it makes me laugh.
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I’m using a tube of L’ancome <i>Definicils</i> that I found in the lap drawer of Lucy’s desk when she stumbles in, dropping her laptop bag on the credenza under the window. “You know, if I had some funky eye infection, you’d get it from using that mascara.”
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“Do you?” I ask, still swiping at my lashes, then blinking tentatively into my compact mirror.
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“No. But I could,” she pouts.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-18834655426567403192012-06-25T07:36:00.001-07:002012-06-25T07:36:15.273-07:00We Have Winners!Congrats to Sherry, Jessica, Margaret, Jonita, Kat and BRN2SHOP9--the winners of my "100 a Day Giveaway"! Ebooks should arrive by tomorrow! :)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-5533614214907825902012-06-21T21:15:00.001-07:002012-06-21T21:15:17.745-07:00100 a Day Means it's Time for a GiveawayWow, I haven't blogged in a long time--sorry about that!
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But tonight's post is a happy one. I am a total statistics, umm, <i>prostitute</i>, so I track my Amazon sales nightly. I was thrilled to see that I'm averaging over 100 sales a day, due to wonderful readers like yourselves!
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I "sellebration" of this new milestone (see what I did there?), I'm giving away two copies of Lucy Wagner Gets In Shape, two copies of Oh, Baby, and two copies of my new novella, The Way You Look Tonight, to six lucky readers. Just leave a comment below, and six winners will be selected randomly on Sunday night (6/24) at 8 pm CST.
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Good luck!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-63945031515421820362012-02-09T18:25:00.000-08:002012-02-09T18:25:22.208-08:00Five Random Thoughts--Thursday night edition1. My dog is licking my foot as I type. I find this indescribably disgusting, yet I don't stop her. <br />
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2. My 11-year-old has taken to blurting out the following statement in a kind of Tourettes-type bark: "We don't want Medda-care, we want Bedda-care!" I'm afraid she learned this when channel surfing the Fox News lineup. I weep for us all.<br />
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3. This afternoon, someone introduced me to the Toddlers in Tiaras girl who drinks Mt. Dew laced with Red Bull before pageants. You can't unsee that.<br />
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4. My 7-year-old asked that question that all 7-year-old girls eventually ask: "Mom, what's a period?" I mean, you know it's coming, but you're never really prepared, are you?<br />
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5. Read the following analogy in a book today, and cracked up: "The Lotto is a tax on people who are bad at math." Soooo true.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-86417831427562076402011-11-04T19:21:00.000-07:002011-11-09T08:39:13.782-08:00Check out my newest Chick-Lit short, "Oh, Baby"!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfGibcvZpTB6cAAk-HomDrLHtZJkI4OZHP8DWx-CxH2p-JjOlYsRFy9ZaBm_F_ydcquoAFVJU7som_tKEb7LnO9FdZlLU2CcXiYKJTuvsn1P7F_Cb6M3OnW0ZaBZBwtE7dKi-MA0bNDY/s1600/cvr4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfGibcvZpTB6cAAk-HomDrLHtZJkI4OZHP8DWx-CxH2p-JjOlYsRFy9ZaBm_F_ydcquoAFVJU7som_tKEb7LnO9FdZlLU2CcXiYKJTuvsn1P7F_Cb6M3OnW0ZaBZBwtE7dKi-MA0bNDY/s320/cvr4.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Blurb:<br />
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Lainey Walker has a loving family, a bright future as a lawyer, and biological clock that's ticking like a time bomb. Medical issues make it necessary for her to get pregnant now, but without a husband or boyfriend on the horizon, she's on the hunt for a donor. Will the gorgeous partner in her new law firm fit the bill, or will she find that her perfect baby daddy has been under her nose all along? <br />
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Purchase for only $.99! <br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Oh-Baby-ebook/dp/B0063AGFBO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1320459504&sr=8-1"><br />
Oh, Baby!</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-61107697728050614012011-10-05T16:03:00.000-07:002011-10-05T16:03:56.845-07:00New Kindles--Hells Yeah!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NFTerpIDwBkJYgvqA1L8uXIRHgKjKIBDha44XSG6Ie-0-pQbggKa3mMvZOIPndKR4MQd0Q5yIluYbmMqxVODqS-3igmlBR2Atxs0s4fVYoNHkhkZ98H8nAtAdppwWsk49ip25P2tbX8/s1600/kt-slate-02-lg-_v166940136_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="309" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NFTerpIDwBkJYgvqA1L8uXIRHgKjKIBDha44XSG6Ie-0-pQbggKa3mMvZOIPndKR4MQd0Q5yIluYbmMqxVODqS-3igmlBR2Atxs0s4fVYoNHkhkZ98H8nAtAdppwWsk49ip25P2tbX8/s320/kt-slate-02-lg-_v166940136_.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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Amazon Unveils New $79 E-Ink Kindle, $99 Kindle Touch<br />
Chris Velazco<br />
posted on September 28th, 2011<br />
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Looks like the Kindle Fire wasn’t all Amazon had planned for us. Amazon has revealed a new line of E-Ink Kindles that looks to bolster their “traditional” eReader lineup. The three new models have taken the stage: the $79 Kindle, the $99 Kindle Touch, and the $149 Kindle Touch 3G.<br />
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The new super small, non-touch Kindle was announced to appeal to Amazon’s legion of eReading purists. It’s small enough to fit in a pack pocket, and will cost users a scant $79 — customers can order today, and Amazon says it will ship today too. While it retains physical buttons, Amazon’s traditional Kindle keyboard is gone. In order to drive the price that low, the new Kindle also comes packed with Amazon’s Special Offers and their Amazon Local deals service.<br />
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The Kindle Touch features an IR touch system that’s similar to the one seen in the most recent Nook, and squeezes it into a body that’s both smaller and lighter than the current model. By going touchscreen, the Kindle Touch does away with the classic Kindle design and instead goes for a very unassuming form factor. The Kindle Touch also sports a new feature called X-Ray, which provides “more than just definitions.” It seeks to give users context by providing Wikipedia info without having to switch into a browser.<br />
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Amazon is going aggressive with the pricing here: the Kindle Touch will go for $99 — a super-enticing price point by any stretch, but one that’s probably going to ensure these things fly off the shelves come the holidays.<br />
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The Kindle Touch will also come in a global-friendly 3G model which will run $149 — not a bad price considering users get a free lifetime of data in 100 countries. Both units are available for pre-order today, but units will ship starting shipping on November 21.<br />
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Amazon’s eReader lineup has gotten a tremendous shot in the arm with everything that’s happened today. While the Fire seems primed to take on both Apple’s iPad and BN’s Nook Color line, the new E-Ink Kindles aim to keep the old-school Kindle fans loyal to the brand. <br />
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<a href="http://techcrunch.com/2011/09/28/amazon-unveils-new-79-kindle-99-e-ink-kindle-touch/">Source</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-35777807396261757982011-09-25T18:07:00.000-07:002011-09-25T18:07:17.925-07:00Celebrate Evernight's AnniversaryHop around and win some freebies! Leave a comment, and you will be eligible to win a free copy of "Intimate Friends"! Good Luck!<br />
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<script src="http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=108213" type="text/javascript" ></script>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-1771239836157883722011-09-06T20:36:00.000-07:002011-09-06T20:36:51.988-07:00Great Review of Intimate Friends from Whipped Cream Reviews<a href="http://whippedcream2.blogspot.com/2011/09/intimate-friends-by-claire-matthews.html"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRgzza9ZvS8hYJ4KamrwHUCvLdFXC639nmLKMMvM9u4Q1WzGq6dTMYU1KQM44Mhw3iFheQdoKTy6jPI9byuH7NnxfPOyrdKOq-6aoqHe1w2fhrIBxWgKAPnOY925vEE4YzDZ69zEKDYM8/s1600/reviewed_by_WC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRgzza9ZvS8hYJ4KamrwHUCvLdFXC639nmLKMMvM9u4Q1WzGq6dTMYU1KQM44Mhw3iFheQdoKTy6jPI9byuH7NnxfPOyrdKOq-6aoqHe1w2fhrIBxWgKAPnOY925vEE4YzDZ69zEKDYM8/s320/reviewed_by_WC.jpg" /></a></div></a><br />
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4.5 cherries! <br />
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"Intimate Friends is a story of friends who are secretly crushing on each other but lack the assertiveness to approach the other. When one of them finds that assertiveness, the fireworks begin.<br />
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Emma is a serious minded schoolteacher who dreams of studying Chaucer in England. She’s crushing on Noah whose “dorky good looks charm her.” Well, right there the story wins my love because I like non-standard situations. I also like when an author writes a good beta hero. Noah is definitely that! He’s sensitive and bookish but strong when he needs to be. In addition to being a beta-best-friend type, he’s also sort of an absent-minded professor type, in the most charming way possible.<br />
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But love for these two is blossoming just as Emily is poised to make a change of life decision that she has been dreaming of forever and their love seems doomed. Still they cannot resist consummating their fierce desires for each other. The sex was hot and just what one would expect from an erotic romance. There was plenty of emotion and angst as the story progresses. Lots of creative vanilla naughtiness between them.<br />
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There are no external baddies who make trouble for the couple. All their conflict comes from their conflicting desires. This is wonderful character driven romance. Ms. Matthews does a great job of showing their developing love and how they come to solve their differences and find their way to a happy ending.<br />
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For anyone who ever had a secret crush on their math teacher, for anyone who ever wondered what happens when nerdy but attractive two schoolteachers get together, Ms. Matthews delivers the scoop. For those who like their sweet and sexy mixed together in just the right measure, don’t miss this one."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-78881266221270872892011-09-04T10:49:00.000-07:002011-09-04T10:51:02.837-07:00Sunday Snog--9/4/11<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tyb2kqKohoVQRc-9AKS81Evxs36bVyhsEHRO8GWbvbxexAPRfjPswK0fp68qNV3FlUAKm9yYwOC81A5k5RfiY-GUP3IjIXKaOBNTXoquWqNKcigj-z2E6swucsQVy7_sgXDrj5-cvMk/s1600/sundaysnog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="55" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tyb2kqKohoVQRc-9AKS81Evxs36bVyhsEHRO8GWbvbxexAPRfjPswK0fp68qNV3FlUAKm9yYwOC81A5k5RfiY-GUP3IjIXKaOBNTXoquWqNKcigj-z2E6swucsQVy7_sgXDrj5-cvMk/s320/sundaysnog.png" /></a></div><br />
Today's snog comes, once again, from my current WIP:<br />
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“Wait, Lainey--are you crying?” <br />
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“Oh, God…I am, aren’t I? I’m sorry, I’m just…” She trailed off, bowing her head in confusion.<br />
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“Shhh…” He cradled her against his chest and kissed her hair, and she’d never felt anything sweeter. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” <br />
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She slipped her arms around him and snuggled against his chest. She couldn’t get close enough to him. “Beck...” Her voice was low, ragged. She hardly recognized it. Finally, she pulled back and looked into his wide eyes. “What are we doing? I don’t even know how I feel about you. I don’t even know how you feel about me.”<br />
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“Yes, you do.” His gaze held hers. “Yes, you do.” <br />
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Her stomach executed a perfect flip, and she returned her mouth to his, kissing him with more and more heat, her head tilting to find the perfect angle, as she reached under the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it up high under his arms. God, his skin was so hot, almost like he had a fever. She broke their kiss and reached to touch her lips to his collarbone, then down, until she reached his nipple and teased it gently with her teeth. He let out a stuttering breath and slid his hands down her hips, grabbing her ass and crushing himself against her heat. Zings of pleasure shot down her spine, and she slid to his other nipple greedily, her hands grasping big wads of his shirt, almost ripping it in her fervid state.<br />
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For more great Sunday Snogs, go to <a href="http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk/sunday-snog/sunday-snog-silver-screen-dream/">Victoria Blisse's Website</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-24062381332527219302011-08-28T09:22:00.000-07:002011-09-04T10:44:52.107-07:00Sunday Snog-8/28/11<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tyb2kqKohoVQRc-9AKS81Evxs36bVyhsEHRO8GWbvbxexAPRfjPswK0fp68qNV3FlUAKm9yYwOC81A5k5RfiY-GUP3IjIXKaOBNTXoquWqNKcigj-z2E6swucsQVy7_sgXDrj5-cvMk/s1600/sundaysnog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="55" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tyb2kqKohoVQRc-9AKS81Evxs36bVyhsEHRO8GWbvbxexAPRfjPswK0fp68qNV3FlUAKm9yYwOC81A5k5RfiY-GUP3IjIXKaOBNTXoquWqNKcigj-z2E6swucsQVy7_sgXDrj5-cvMk/s320/sundaysnog.png" /></a></div><br />
Today's Sunday Snog comes from my current WIP:<br />
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And now they weren't kids anymore, and he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her so badly, he couldn't tear his eyes from her mouth. Perhaps his thoughts were loud enough to hear, because she bent forward and placed her lips on his cheek.<br />
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“Get some sleep, then.” She began to pull back, then hesitated, like she'd changed her mind. She leaned back in and placed her lips on the edge of his mouth, just as he'd done that night at Beach Bums. Oh, God. She smelled like apricots, from her shampoo or hand lotion or something, and without even thinking, he turned his head, no more than an inch, and their lips were joined. They both froze with the shock of it, until Beck tilted his head slightly, and their mouths were joined even more perfectly, if such a thing was possible. He boldly ran the tip of his tongue against the seam of her lips, and they parted to allow him entry. <br />
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Jesus. He'd never tasted anything so wonderful. The soft-firm pressure of her mouth on his shot hot waves through his belly. Her tongue was wet and smooth and perfect, and he wanted to suck it in his mouth and bite it. Hard. The thought made his cock twitch with longing, and he was suddenly grateful that Henry was still tucked beside him on the couch, a fifty-pound shield between Lainey and the growing evidence of his lustful fantasies.<br />
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Lainey pulled away, and they stared at each other with wide, wild eyes. Whoa.<br />
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“Beck.” Her voice was low, throaty...it made him even harder.<br />
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“Yeah?”<br />
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She shook her head, as if trying to clear it, then gave him a shy smile. “Good night.”<br />
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“Good night, sweetheart.” He meant it as a joke, like before, when they were pretending to be a couple. But his voice betrayed him—it didn't sound like a joke at all.<br />
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“Am I your sweetheart?”<br />
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Holy shit. <i>Holy shit</i>. “Of course you are.”<br />
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For more great Sunday Snogs, head on over to <a href="http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk/blog/sunday-snog-sweet-surrender/">http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk/blog/sunday-snog-sweet-surrender/</a><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-44590005039105959822011-08-26T11:01:00.001-07:002011-08-26T11:01:52.696-07:00Review of Intimate Friends by Smexy Books!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfX333TwhOwBe9LbKHJgpy8uAn6gRbCHd5HeNbyLQwdIMunKnTZyVaYltOeh4SvEmkspyU8K_bnpqxHSMt5hyphenhyphenCbVLk3LhcDhsGHJS0303plSf2k2hjCKQ4fnqANN-XV0fVuwYJJ7BpF2k/s1600/SmexyButton150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfX333TwhOwBe9LbKHJgpy8uAn6gRbCHd5HeNbyLQwdIMunKnTZyVaYltOeh4SvEmkspyU8K_bnpqxHSMt5hyphenhyphenCbVLk3LhcDhsGHJS0303plSf2k2hjCKQ4fnqANN-XV0fVuwYJJ7BpF2k/s320/SmexyButton150.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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Last week, I read a review of Intimate Friends by Claire Matthews at Fiction Vixen. I read the words – friends to lovers and that the hero is a beta math professor and decided I had to read this novella – I love nerdy heroes. My mini review:<br />
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A friends to lovers story, that is really cute. Both Noah and Emma are quite shy and quiet. Noah is recently divorced and Emma has just come out of a long term relationship. Both teachers, they spend a lot of time together at the same school – and both pretty much have eyes for the other.<br />
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I think this book could have been much cuter if it had been longer. The conflict rests with the fact that Emma has an opportunity to go study in England. Once they tumble into bed (where Noah isn’t quite as shy – Rawr) Emma is then unsure if she should go. I just think it needed more pages for this uncertainty to be explored.<br />
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Otherwise, this is a cute, quick book (47 pages). I will definitely check out this author again. (Goodreads, Amazon)<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-22223338450628603192011-08-23T10:55:00.000-07:002011-08-23T10:55:50.588-07:00My Awesome New Cover from Rebel Ink Press<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBPVuGyPw51ApXBJYLAMewYfz9LtZqm8zfkfUVuN4_JjF1Ivz1FYL5PA_PhdwGZLoFaf5JmBWpJCTs7z4BMlD3u6TvZbImm0pNPIhM2B9QWY7HfBpVi67FnHYkxE58nu_d5tAVc37HKhM/s1600/SureThing3%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBPVuGyPw51ApXBJYLAMewYfz9LtZqm8zfkfUVuN4_JjF1Ivz1FYL5PA_PhdwGZLoFaf5JmBWpJCTs7z4BMlD3u6TvZbImm0pNPIhM2B9QWY7HfBpVi67FnHYkxE58nu_d5tAVc37HKhM/s320/SureThing3%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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For "The Sure Thing", release date 12/7/11. Isn't it purdy?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-36190329814293391712011-08-23T10:31:00.000-07:002011-08-23T10:31:33.850-07:00Review of Intimate Friends at Smitten With Reading!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQixd28Jfq-N77j7T1nHHlTIvvyeNm8X2fMUxq3Q7iMhjfvnDL3spgUIWQdtCoWTBEEs_mBLFT7IDYgQmthyk0SVmm9kaTUxrRYxFifG7WkIg-lMVscSqtmd1OrlLZ-F_2Mn6_BQAS5WQ/s1600/SmittenButton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQixd28Jfq-N77j7T1nHHlTIvvyeNm8X2fMUxq3Q7iMhjfvnDL3spgUIWQdtCoWTBEEs_mBLFT7IDYgQmthyk0SVmm9kaTUxrRYxFifG7WkIg-lMVscSqtmd1OrlLZ-F_2Mn6_BQAS5WQ/s320/SmittenButton.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Review:<br />
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It's no secret that this is my favorite trope...friends to lovers. This is another good one!<br />
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After running into her ex-boyfriend with his new fiance, Emma has spent the afternoon drowning her sorrows forgetting her evening plans with Noah. When he arrives, she is drunk, sad, and needing validation. Noah has been in love with Emma forever so when she puts the moves on him, he doesn't have the willpower to turn her away. This one night of passion turns into a powerful affair with incredible sex...the friendship was already there in this relationship, and adding in the incredible sex, just makes everything perfect...except for Emma is about to leave for a 2 year course in England.<br />
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Noah was incredible in this book. He always knew exactly what Emma needed when she needed it. When she was feeling awkward, he didn't allow her to wallow in that. Sweet, sexy, funny....really a perfect guy. He knows what he wants with Emma...he's been there mentally for a long time, and now that he has her where he wants her, he is not going to let her go without a fight.<br />
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Emma, on the other hand, is not quite there. She is not used to thinking about her buddy Noah as anything other than a friend. The transition is not a smooth one and she has been planning this move for a year now...one month of passion is not enough time to alter her entire life plan.<br />
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This is a sweet little read. It doesn't take much time....maybe an hour or two. It's great for a night when you simply need a happy feel-good romance.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-547282678917149812011-08-16T13:11:00.000-07:002011-08-16T13:11:39.040-07:00New Review of Intimate Friends at Fiction Vixen!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkGY-AJbpzfltxqwgI72K_rno2-81rTccaAmlXN4gRf7hSgSgvF_i6AgFRninhvo_kTbcyFq5EJwYQx6oYHlQ22t3b9UBPsxlFyW1Ed6YCpI-8RAacfKwm240jQfEoR5Sr7kD3HElrOXM/s1600/FVButton150.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="160" width="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkGY-AJbpzfltxqwgI72K_rno2-81rTccaAmlXN4gRf7hSgSgvF_i6AgFRninhvo_kTbcyFq5EJwYQx6oYHlQ22t3b9UBPsxlFyW1Ed6YCpI-8RAacfKwm240jQfEoR5Sr7kD3HElrOXM/s320/FVButton150.gif" /></a></div><br />
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<i>A- review, which I am THRILLED with!</i><br />
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The perfect way to describe this friends-to-lovers novella is short and sweet. The fact that I enjoyed it and am giving it a high rating is saying something, because normally romance novellas don’t do it for me. With romances, I need substantial character and relationship development, and just by default, it’s very difficult – if not impossible – to deliver that with a short book form like a novella. Claire Matthews’ Intimate Friends proved to be an exception, and an absolutely lovely one at that. One of the things I loved was that from the beginning, Emma and Noah’s friendship feels authentic; you really do get the sense that you’re looking in on two people who know each other very well and care about one another.<br />
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Emma and Noah are best friends and teach at the same high school in Austin, Texas. Emma is a friendly girl-next-door type heroine and a lover of English literature; Noah is a sweet beta hero and math teacher, who in many ways appears to be your stereotypical nerd – though that does not extend to the bedroom *wink* *wink*. Both of them ended serious relationships about a year ago and neither has since reentered the dating world. What has happened in the meanwhile is that Noah’s feelings towards Emma have coalesced and grown into full-blown romantic love (see sigh-worthy quote below). He is afraid of jeopardizing their friendship and that Emma does not return his feelings, so despite his love for her, he has so far remained silent on the matter. Until … well, read the book to find out!<br />
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The story is so short that writing too much of a summary will make reading it seem repetitive, so I’ll stop there. It’s very enjoyable watching Noah and Emma’s relationship move beyond friendship. One of the things that is a definite plus about novellas is the lack of room to throw in tons of obstacles, Big Misunderstandings, or Things Left Unsaid, and luckily Matthews didn’t even try. The obstacle they do have to overcome is a realistic one that fits with the story and characters. Even when they’re facing it, they’re still open about their feelings for one another – there’s no pretending or covering up or deflecting for their own sake or their partner’s. A hero and heroine acting maturely about their relationship: what a nice change!<br />
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Intimate Friends is short – only 47 pages – and as with most novellas, I was left wanting more. However, the fact that I wished it was longer (not shorter), yet greatly enjoyed it despite its (lack of) length, is noteworthy. There are interesting and engaging main characters, sweet scenes, funny dialogue, and some nice sizzling chemistry: what’s not to like?<br />
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Favorite Quote:<br />
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"It was so stupid, and random, but at that second, with the morning sun hitting her auburn hair, and her huge brown eyes fixed on him, the lock flew off the “do-not-allow-yourself-to-even-think-about-it” portion of his brain, and every feeling he ever had for her—feelings he never even realized he had for her—flooded over him like a tidal wave. Love, tenderness, desire—it hit him so hard he had to excuse himself, go to the men’s room, rest his forehead against the cool metal of the bathroom stall, breathing heavily, wondering what the hell had just happened. It left him exhausted and spent, as if he’d just run a hundred miles.<br />
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And almost a year later, he was still exhausted, spent, frustrated … and madly in love."<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-59863278042285106432011-08-14T15:44:00.000-07:002011-08-14T15:44:07.013-07:00Sunday Snog-8/14/11<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmLlD-Pc8FOji4Z_fJkLLjX_Ffl2LpoXmfO9XIbFpA3WZA4alWg58__SsGT85HQpCo40hLB7bGBMidBrxT09a6eGfg_6Ge88wgRfpfsGHCzEIWtwKQGUPflXmabJnRs6OZ9ANay382PUs/s1600/sundaysnog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="55" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmLlD-Pc8FOji4Z_fJkLLjX_Ffl2LpoXmfO9XIbFpA3WZA4alWg58__SsGT85HQpCo40hLB7bGBMidBrxT09a6eGfg_6Ge88wgRfpfsGHCzEIWtwKQGUPflXmabJnRs6OZ9ANay382PUs/s320/sundaysnog.png" /></a></div><br />
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Today's Sunday Snog comes from my (currently untitled) WIP:<br />
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“God, she's coming, she's coming,” Cam whispered savagely. “Put your arm around her.”<br />
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“Wait, what? Now?” Beck was nervous.<br />
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“Yes, now!” Cam looked desperate. Beck slung his arm over Lainey's shoulder.<br />
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“Now kiss her!”<br />
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“Whoa, ho,” said Lainey, leaning back an inch.<br />
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“Do it!”<br />
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Before she could blink, Beck leaned over and captured her mouth with his. His lips were soft and warm, and tasted like cherries. He cupped the back of her head in his palm. She kept her lips tightly closed, and resisted the urge to pull away. This was Beck. She'd caught him and Cam going through her underwear drawer when they were in junior high. She'd sat in the back seat with him when he was ten years old and broke his arm falling off the roof of their garage. She remembered how he stretched out with his head in her lap while her mom drove them to the hospital. He'd tried so hard not to cry, and she'd pushed his sweaty bangs back from his forehead and told him that everything would be alright. There was no way she could do this. <br />
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But he continued, kissing each corner of her mouth, then moving in, until her lips softened without her permission, and blended with his into a sweet caress. <br />
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Check out all the other great Sunday Snogs at http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk/Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-74724797796724178942011-08-07T10:03:00.000-07:002011-08-07T10:03:58.126-07:00Sunday Snog-8/7/11<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3jXrJEWjq5Rw8UPFagsIBjyWQ8SZK1l0hLN6AHueG9vG_ebORTSef7M1iY2dsgp8F9JgB_1zN1uP3J7zH__RS0gqnVlYbGkhyklUfSrh4AhJ4a5Nb_ChNRMaZeYgUTAEQNuzcGa_OA_M/s1600/sundaysnog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="55" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3jXrJEWjq5Rw8UPFagsIBjyWQ8SZK1l0hLN6AHueG9vG_ebORTSef7M1iY2dsgp8F9JgB_1zN1uP3J7zH__RS0gqnVlYbGkhyklUfSrh4AhJ4a5Nb_ChNRMaZeYgUTAEQNuzcGa_OA_M/s320/sundaysnog.png" /></a></div><br />
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<br />
From "Making Summer Last," coming October 8th from Secret Cravings Publishing:<br />
<br />
They were on the roof of his apartment building, star-gazing, drinking wine. He was sitting cross-legged on the plaid blanket they'd dragged out of his closet, and her head rested in his lap. They sat in companionable silence for a long moment, until he spoke softly, tracing the lines of her forehead with his fingertip.<br />
<br />
“You look beautiful in the moonlight, My-My-My Mia.” She grinned at his stuttering endearment.<br />
<br />
“Muted light is good to me. You should see me in total darkness, I look like Angelina Jolie,” she joked, suddenly embarrassed by his intense gaze. He continued to study her face, his eyes wide and solemn. “Stop looking at me like that.”<br />
<br />
“Like what?” <br />
<br />
“I don't know, just...so serious.” She let her voice boom low at the end. “What are you thinking?”<br />
<br />
“Umm...that it'd be cool if I could just sit up here with you forever. I mean, interspersed with eating and sleeping in a real bed and going to Mets games. And sex, of course.”<br />
<br />
“Of course,” she echoed, in a well, duh voice.<br />
<br />
They were silent for a while, both contemplating his wish, and the deeper meaning of what lay unspoken between them. The words remained unspoken, because they violated the rules of their summer tryst, but when Jonah leaned down and pulled her to him, and kissed her, over and over, soft, slow, deep kisses, she began to wonder how she would go back to Tulsa...how she would get up every morning without him...without Gus. Who would call her his-his-his-Mia back home? The Starbucks guy?<br />
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For more Sunday Snogs, head on over to <a href="http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk/">http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk/</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-46560432820946233862011-07-31T08:38:00.000-07:002011-07-31T08:49:12.514-07:00Sunday Snog<a href="http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk/sunday-snog/"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7bY4z7Bi0BldY7_UokjBDDRG603hMBX7-lZfC08Ml0K9VkRZJe20bi68dX0uXDgMCVw7ynEIQQfINeK9HpxUY5K9DKGrlN6fvpLJdYNwhwBDqrxmitM6r24Y8Zk1iis04-yLp5Q4gpew/s1600/sundaysnog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="55" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7bY4z7Bi0BldY7_UokjBDDRG603hMBX7-lZfC08Ml0K9VkRZJe20bi68dX0uXDgMCVw7ynEIQQfINeK9HpxUY5K9DKGrlN6fvpLJdYNwhwBDqrxmitM6r24Y8Zk1iis04-yLp5Q4gpew/s320/sundaysnog.png" /></a></div></a><br />
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<br />
For today's Sunday Snog, I'm including an excerpt from "Intimate Friends", on sale now at Evernight Publishing:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ9dLSMEUZXfqDqIwSkGAHmnXCbW_hfQdMpeOEB45Vhfjzn8I6wRg2WnuufDIX6a-uuA5PtvvVFx5ZBklkwOTx48ai7JmY08LCCFxdd8Wv6JC5ctUnRiEPbn1Kas80gtkZsEoj433hd_o/s1600/if+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ9dLSMEUZXfqDqIwSkGAHmnXCbW_hfQdMpeOEB45Vhfjzn8I6wRg2WnuufDIX6a-uuA5PtvvVFx5ZBklkwOTx48ai7JmY08LCCFxdd8Wv6JC5ctUnRiEPbn1Kas80gtkZsEoj433hd_o/s320/if+cover.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
“I'm sorry,” she mumbled.<br />
<br />
“For what?”<br />
<br />
“I don't know.” She didn't know.<br />
<br />
“Emma,” he moved closer, and she felt her heart begin to<br />
flutter, from nerves, from embarrassment, from the memory of what<br />
they'd done the night before. He reached to brush her hair behind her<br />
ear. The touch of his fingers against her cheek sparked the memory of<br />
those same fingers, teasing her nipples, grazing down her ribcage,<br />
slipping between her legs, then reaching up to paint her mouth with<br />
her own slick wetness. Holy crap. She needed to go to class.<br />
<br />
“Noah, I've got to go. So do you. We're late.”<br />
<br />
He nodded slowly. “Okay.” He squeezed her shoulder gently,<br />
then leaned forward until his lips were almost touching her ear. “But<br />
for what it's worth...I'm not sorry.” And then he turned his head and<br />
kissed her. It was a dirty trick, right in the middle of the break room,<br />
where anyone could walk in. But she couldn't help kissing him back,<br />
smelling his scent, familiar as always, but now somehow new--it<br />
made her shiver. But when she finally leaned into him, to steady<br />
herself, to let him steady her, he wrapped his hands around her upper<br />
arms and moved her back, just an inch. He placed one final,<br />
close-mouthed kiss on her primed lips. “Have a nice class, Emma.”<br />
Then he turned and walked away. <br />
<br />
She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. Then opened and closed it again. Giving up, she crossed her arms, rubbing the skin that Noah had just touched. And she was ten minutes late for class.<br />
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Be sure to check out all the Sunday Snogs at:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk/sunday-snog/">http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk/sunday-snog/</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-62335565160086028602011-07-19T21:30:00.000-07:002011-07-19T21:30:06.320-07:00Excerpt--"High School Reunion"Coming soon from Breathless Press:<br />
<br />
 “You go first,” Derek said, rolling his head towards her face. They were laying on her bed, fully dressed. Ava lounged with her shoulders on a pillow, while Derek's body made a T across the mattress, his head resting on her stomach.<br />
 “Okay...let's see...when did I first realize it was over with Brian...” She let out a slow breath. “I guess when he called me into his office one afternoon and told me he wanted me to go to Miami for a business trip on my birthday. When I reminded him we had plans that evening, he gave me this impatient, constipated look and said 'Ava, you have a birthday every year. What's the big deal?'” <br />
 “He really said that?” Derek laughed.<br />
 “Yes, he was so romantic. For Valentine's Day one year he bought me a blender. He told me I should start drinking protein shakes, because my abs were getting flabby.”<br />
 “Wow.” <br />
 “Yeah.”<br />
 “I can't believe you let him get away.”<br />
 “I know, right?” She reached down to play with the unruly curls framing his forehead. “Your turn.”<br />
 “Oh, mine's easy. That would be the night I walked in on her and her personal trainer, doing naked lunges under the sheets.”<br />
 “She cheated on you?” Ava's voice was incredulous. “God, Derek, I'm so sorry. That must have been horrible!”<br />
 “Well, it was and it wasn't. I mean, neither of us was happy. In a way it just made things easier. We could blame the whole divorce on her cheating, instead of admitting to ourselves that we never should have gotten married in the first place.”<br />
 “I bet your parents were upset,” Ava said in a tight voice.<br />
 “Yeah, they loved Beth. They kept begging me to give her another chance. Can you imagine? Like, sure, she betrayed me, but if I divorced her, where would we ever find a fourth for tennis?”<br />
 They were silent for a moment, until Ava spoke quietly. “I just can't believe she cheated on you.”<br />
 “Well, who else would she cheat on, the UPS guy?”<br />
 “No, I mean...well, you know what I mean. You're perfect. I just don't get it.”<br />
 “I'm not perfect, Ava.” <br />
 “You are, you're just too perfectly humble to admit it. Your gorgeous, and smart, and rich...”<br />
 “I'm not rich, my parents are rich.” He lifted his head from her stomach and sat up.<br />
 “Oh, that is so something rich people say!”<br />
 “Ava, don't make me out to be perfect,” he said. “Perfect people don't get to make mistakes, or be in a bad mood, or forget to put the toilet seat down.”<br />
 “You leave the toilet seat up?”<br />
 “It's happened. I'm not proud of it.”<br />
 “Then I take it all back. You're weak and flawed.”<br />
 “I am,” he murmured, bending over her, pulling up her blouse and placing his lips on the smooth skin below her belly button. <br />
 “What are you doing?” she asked, cupping the back of his head with her palm.<br />
 “Kissing your flabby abs.”Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-5762919698818663112011-07-11T22:42:00.000-07:002011-07-11T22:42:01.145-07:00Squee--I love new coversHere's the cover from my upcoming release with Secret Cravings Publishing, "Making Summer Last." It's part of their Weekend Getaway Series, and is scheduled for release on October 8th.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-gY7BEsp83ZVBXiDwrb53Z1bEK2oyfW65WEI8JA9fultpboqwVz18GtjI-8gBWFEQ7FOMbEVp6tfv6ifvqUx3oSKmYW1MVy3MSRPvjQQ4N5sAuxOXMc4FlM3VDPSuHRGpYKM5apCod-8/s1600/Making+Summer+Last+Cover-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-gY7BEsp83ZVBXiDwrb53Z1bEK2oyfW65WEI8JA9fultpboqwVz18GtjI-8gBWFEQ7FOMbEVp6tfv6ifvqUx3oSKmYW1MVy3MSRPvjQQ4N5sAuxOXMc4FlM3VDPSuHRGpYKM5apCod-8/s320/Making+Summer+Last+Cover-2.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-13197515604379428672011-07-11T05:29:00.000-07:002011-07-11T05:29:00.741-07:00Six Sentence...Monday?Sorry, I couldn't get on blogger yesterday, so here is my tardy installment of Six Sentence Sunday. Also, since it's late, I'm going more than six sentences. So sue me, I've never been good with rules.<br />
<br />
From my latest WIP, An Unexpected Love:<br />
<br />
“God, Lexi, you feel so good. I've never felt like this.” He leaned down to kiss my nipple through the silk of my bra. He teased it with his teeth. How did he know how much I loved that?<br />
<br />
“Meh...it was passable.” I leaned my head back against the file cabinet and grinned.<br />
<br />
“Better than with that asshole Brogan,” he growled.<br />
<br />
“He was mediocre. With you it was passable.”<br />
<br />
“Bullshit. You never came so hard. You know it. Admit it.” Dan was <i>teasing</i> me. I giggled, and believe me, I am not a girl who giggles.<br />
<br />
“Dan, I scratched a highway map on your back. You might need a tetanus shot. It was indescribably good.” He gave me a look that was full of male ego, and I laughed, and kissed his forehead. <br />
<br />
“Tell me again,” he demanded.<br />
<br />
“It was great sex!” I yelled, feigning exasperation.<br />
<br />
“No, not that.”<br />
<br />
“Then what?”<br />
<br />
“You know what.”<br />
<br />
“Oh Dan,” I sighed, cupping his face in my hands. “I love you more than you'll ever know.”Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-37906997514493458482011-07-09T16:40:00.000-07:002011-07-09T16:40:38.961-07:00We have a Winner!The winner of Evernight Publishing's blog hop giveaway at my site is Barbara Hightower! Thanks for following, Barbara! You've won a pdf copy of my upcoming release, "Intimate Friends".<br />
<br />
I'll be in contact soon with your download--thanks to everyone for participating!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-90302263957704985192011-07-07T23:23:00.000-07:002011-07-07T23:23:18.160-07:00Happy Birthday, Total-E-Bound!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBLJd-xIuR67zdDeriIXwM9AexsYD2bmaEf1OQ1GJCTaHAzTNudX5Ua9wcDH3MGlSuCfXRm4CYTr3kOTI-pGrKZgXoaENzI6ndhYL5oL4LNI-8ErmPaiiI8gfxAzCx36G7XdbQTUORP9U/s1600/birthday-2011a_200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBLJd-xIuR67zdDeriIXwM9AexsYD2bmaEf1OQ1GJCTaHAzTNudX5Ua9wcDH3MGlSuCfXRm4CYTr3kOTI-pGrKZgXoaENzI6ndhYL5oL4LNI-8ErmPaiiI8gfxAzCx36G7XdbQTUORP9U/s320/birthday-2011a_200.jpg" /></a></div><br />
It's Total-e-Bound's birthday, and they are celebrating by giving readers 25% off purchases on July 8th! You know you wanna go over there and buy a copy of <a href="http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1245">Turn To You</a>. So just go ahead. I'll wait.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379663383270529861.post-443287745984709432011-07-07T15:43:00.000-07:002011-07-07T15:49:20.168-07:00From my current, untitled WIP  “Sorry,” I said. “My grandmother taught me to cook. She was a bit of a germaphobe. 'Wash your hands, you'll get a stomachache,' she'd say. That and 'Don't eat bananas after five o-clock.' Oh, and 'If your lips itch, it means you want to be kissed.'”<br />
 Dan stopped drying his hands on the dishtowel. “How do your lips feel?” He was right behind me. I turned around, expecting to see a teasing gleam in his eyes, but they weren't teasing. At all.<br />
 “They might be a little itchy,” I whispered. He was so close. He smelled really, really good. I followed the nervous dip of his Adams apple, then reached up and pressed my lips to his cheek.<br />
 “Lexi,” he breathed. <br />
 “Kiss me.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. That wasn't what I meant.<br />
 “Dan...”<br />
 He opened his mouth to speak, but words didn't come.<br />
 “What?” I prompted. <br />
 “If I kiss you, I'll never stop.” I took a stuttering breath as he traced the curve of my jaw with his finger. His eyes were so dark—they went right through me. I reached for his hand and placed it on my cheek. <br />
 That touch, or something in my eyes, must have released whatever was left of his reticence, because suddenly I was in his arms, his embrace tight, his lips hot and demanding on mine. Our mouths opened at the same time, as if by agreement, and we wrestled each other with our tongues. His had a sharp, frantic taste, and it made me gasp with pleasure.<br />
 His lips still on mine, he began to drag me from the kitchen. I reached blindly for the stove, twisting off the burner under the saucepan so I didn't torch the place. <br />
 “Hmph,” he grunted against my mouth, congratulating me on my display of fire safety. We made it to the couch, and I shoved his shirt up, high on his chest. My hands explored the contours of his body, caressing the sexy spattering of dark curls, tiny <i>c</i>'s traveling down his stomach. He was trim and hard, his shoulders broad, hips narrow, as if he spent his days doing gymnastics instead of writing market analyses. He growled low in his throat as I scraped my nails across his ribcage.<br />
 As I moved closer to his waistband, he diverted me, pushing me down and kissing my cheeks and throat. Then he laced my fingers between his and plucked soft, wet kisses from my lips. There was no more crazed heat between us, just a slow, steady burn. And although part of me wanted to sit up and climb him like a tree, the other, softer part never wanted this sweet embrace to end. We kissed for so long I lost track of time, and soon all that existed was Dan, enveloping me with his warm, gentle mouth. At some point I must have started to cry, because he finally stopped and caught a tear on the side of my face with his thumb.<br />
 “Don't cry.”<br />
 “I'm not. Am I?” And then I let out a choked sob, answering my own question.<br />
 “I'm sorry,” he said as he sat up. “I shouldn't have started this.”Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0