'My Writing Process' Blog Tour - sex and smiles!

Today I’m taking part in the ‘My Writing Process’ blog tour. Thank you to my lovely fellow HarperImpulse author, Nikki Moore, for inviting me to join in. You can find her post from last Monday here - http://nikkimooreauthor.wordpress.com/blog-posts/ Please do pop over and check it out.

So here is a bit about my own writing process….
1) What am I working on?
I’m currently doing final edits on my next story for HarperImpulse, which is due out on 27th February. It’s called ‘Love Is A Four Letter Word’.

Take one rich girl who has a thing for the bad boys.
Take one tough guy who thinks possession is nine-tenths of the misery law.
Mix generously with a land dispute and a whole lotta lust…. And what have you got?
Sometimes being bad can be just too good to miss.

Now, I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be showing you this yet, but here is a sneaky preview of my very hot cover!

I must say, I liked the cover HarperImpulse designed for me for 'Summer of Surrender' but they've gone one better this time, I love it!

So, back to the story.... It’s an erotic romance, featuring a very sexy bad boy and his motorbike (interested yet?), some hot sex (in very naughty and imaginative positions and places!), a bohemian artist, and a girl who just can’t resist the bad boys – because a good one might expect her to commit and settle down…. But sometimes love can just creep up on you and catche you unawares.

2) How does my work differ from others of its genre?
Although I write erotic romance, with lots of hot sex, I like to bring out the sensual side, genuine feeling and passion between the main characters. I want readers to smile, cry and get hot and bothered! I do have a soft spot for alpha heroes, but they usually have a sense of humour, and the banter between the characters, and the growing relationship between them is as important as the heat in the sack. I also hope that although a lot of romance tropes are used all the time, I do put my own unique twist on the ones I use.

I also love writing contemporary romance, and the next story I’m working on combines all of this – a true bonkbuster based in the English countryside, look out for it!

3) Why do I write what I do?
I write the type of stories that I love to read. About real life characters I can believe in, but with that element of escapism. My favourite films, and books, are true love stories, but have a humorous edge to them that leaves a warm and fuzzy feeling. I really hope that my stories leave that feel good feeling behind as well.

4) How does my writing process work?
Something I read or see usually triggers off a ‘what if?’ and from that I get a gorgeous hero, or sparky heroine, and a very vague plot which includes a start and an end and not much about what happens in the middle! This is followed usually by a first chapter that I have to write before I do any planning at all. I then need a title – I can’t get any further until I have that, plus character names that I love.

With most of my books, I’ve then plotted out the main turning points and the black moment, so I’ve got the four quarters of the book. I then plot out the first quarter in more detail chapter by chapter to make sure I have character development, believable conflicts etc. After I’ve written this I then plot out the next quarter.

But, just to throw a spanner in the works, my latest book isn’t following this route at all! As it is a bonkbuster, with lots of characters, most of my work has been around really getting under the skin of the characters. I need to really know them, and what is going to happen to each of them during the course of the story. How they interact, and how their actions have an impact on everyone else is key. So this one is definitely character driven!
I do have a title (of course), a beginning (which is based on true events), and know the end!


So, that's a brief look at my writing process, which is constantly changing!

Next Monday, 24th check out the posts from these wonderful authors;

Amanda Jane Ward, who you can find <here>

Or visit her website at http://amandajward.weebly.com/ to find out more about her and her books!

Aurelia B Rowl- find her post next week <here>

Aurelia B. Rowl lives on the edge of the Peak District in the UK with her very understanding husband, their two fantastic children, and their mad rescue mutt who doesn’t mind being used as a sounding post and source of inspiration. She regularly wows them all with her curious, hastily thrown together meals when she gets too caught up with her latest writing project… or five!… and she has developed the fine art of ignoring the housework.

Aurelia B. Rowl writes Young Adult/New Adult crossover fiction and contemporary romance. To find out more about Aurelia, or check out which project she’s working on right now, you can visit her website: www.aureliabrowl.com

And on 3^rd March Christy McKellen – her post is <here>

B.K. (Before Kids) Christy worked as a Video and Radio Producer in London and Nottingham. After a decade of dealing with nappies, tantrums and endless questions from toddlers, she has come out the other side and moved into the wonderful world of literature. She now spends her time writing flirty, sexy romance with a kick (her dream job!). Her website address is: www.christymckellen.com

Happy New Year!

Just a quick post.... I hope you had a wonderful Christmas, I did, and I'm ever optimistic that 2014 will be a great year for all of us.

© Vedmochka |
Dreamstime Stock Photos &Stock Free Images

I haven't made any New Year resolutions as such, but I have done some thinking and decided that for me this year is all about trying to achieve the right balance. I've posted more over on my Susie Medwell blog and I'd love to hear what you think! (More about the hamster over there!)

Thank you to everyone for making 2013 such a fun, busy year. I've signed new contracts, made new friends and I can't say thank you enough to everyone who has bought, read and reviewed my books. Have a great 2014 - whatever you are planning.

Zara x

Doris O'Connor on different genres, and wearing different hats!

So, what's the big deal about genre? 

I'm curious to see your answers on this. Really, I am. You see, as a reader my tastes vary, and what I read depends as much on my mood of the day, as it does on which one of my favourite authors has a new release, or which new author has caught my eye.

I have a favourite genre of course. That would be BDSM, either contemporary or paranormal, but I will read literally anything, as long as it is Romance, and it has a good story. If you don’t hook me within the first few pages, chapters, I will not continue reading. My time is precious, and I will not waste it on a book that I don't enjoy. Now, to be fair, this doesn’t happen too often. I'm a fairly discerning judge of the blurb/excerpt, and I will not buy a book that doesn't appeal to me in some way.

You won't find me naming and shaming books I didn't like either. That's not my style, and, after all it's all personal choice. Someone else will no doubt love a book I hate. That's just the way the cookie crumbles, to knick one of my favourite movie lines.

*grins*

Does it matter to me, if the author switches from contemporary to paranormal or sci-fi? From m/f to m/f/m, m/m, or even f/f? Nope it doesn't—not one little bit. Love is love and a good story is a good story in my opinion, and usually you can judge by the cover, blurb, category, genre, etc. what sort of a book you are going to get.

Why then do so many authors adopt different pen names for different genres? I can fully understand a different pen name if you're writing YA, or children's books and Erotic Romance, for instance. You don't want your innocent young readers to stumble upon something that you have written with your adult hat on. Though, one could argue, in this day and age they are bound to find you anyway, but that's another issue.

But if you're writing erotic anyway, do you need a different pen name for each genre?

I ask, because I write both, contemporary and paranormal, and I write across several sub genres in that. I do not have a pen name. I couldn't cope with the different hats. I have enough to do trying to juggle all the usual plates of mother, wife, writer, friend, reader to name but a few.

I can barely keep the names of my kids straight in my head, let alone add another name for myself and the whole creating a different persona, online presence that goes with that. I admire those that can and do. I know several writers who juggle several different personas and kudos to them. I could never do it.

You see, I have a very unpredictable muse, and she has been known to change her mind halfway through a story as to whether this one is contemp or para. I've gotten used to her ADHD tendencies now. They used to do my head in when I first started writing.

Personally, I think it keeps my writing fresh. I would bore myself if I didn't push into new directions and jiggled things up a bit and for the most part my readers seem to like it—I think—hope.

*looks worried*

Feel free to correct me if not. I promise to only cry quietly into my coffee cup.

*smiles*

Seriously though, I would love your thoughts on this. Opinions between authors seem to be divided. I sometimes wonder whether I'm the only one not writing under a pen name, for instance. I know I'm not. I can think of a few off the top of my head, but we do seem to be in the minority.

It's probably one of those things that there is no right or wrong answer to. Each author will have to do what they deem right for them, their personal circumstances, and their readership.

I seem to be doing okay with my approach so far…

This month sees two new releases from me.

The Billionaire's Unwanted Virgin released May 3^rd and is a contemporary erotic romance.

Blurb: 

Lay back and think of England, she could do this. It was only sex, after all. Auctioning off her virginity was the easy part—going through with it not so easy.  When Alice realizes who has acquired her, keeping her emotions out of the deal seems an impossible task.

Self-made billionaire Lakota, Lance Kemnay has no time for women, let alone one, who would sell her virginity to the highest bidder. Ever practical, however, he sees in Alice a solution to his immediate need for a wife. The emotions she stirs in him are just lust, and lust can be dealt with. As they connect emotionally and physically, his resolve to keep his heart aloof is tested beyond limits.

Can he trust his tender feelings, or has he been taken for a fool by the one woman he thought he could trust?

(For a hot excerpt click here.)

Buy links:

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/the-billionaires-unwanted-virgin-by-doris-oconnor/

http://www.bookstrand.com/the-billionaires-unwanted-virgin-mf

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thebillionaire039sunwantedvirgin-1189225-147.html

http://www.amazon.com/The-Billionaires-Unwanted-Virgin-ebook/dp/B00CMTKDSG

May 31st will see the release of Under Orders. This is a paranormal Romance On The Go Story (short stories designed to be read when you're in a hurry and still need your romance fix)

Blurb: 

Who ever heard of being ordered to wear vibrating panties to a business meeting? The visiting CEO may be sex-on-legs-gorgeous, but Anna knows a sexual harassment case when she sees it. No one is going to order her to entertain Jonathan Symmonds—no one but her own body it seems.

Jonathan proves a hard man to resist. When he reveals his secret identity, this daughter of a slayer ought to be running for the hills not play submissive to his dark side.

Will passion and a shared past be enough to keep them together, or is their bond doomed to end at the stake?

      

****

Like I said, unpredictable muse. This story started as a flash on my blog and kept niggling until I expanded on it. In fact, it started off as a contemporary and then my hero announced he was in fact a vampire—a living, breathing, evolved vampire.

Yeah, that got my attention too, especially as the heroine is the daughter of a slayer. Delicious conflict, right there.

I leave you with a little excerpt from Under Orders. Don't forget to let me know what you think about authors writing in different genres. I'm giving away a copy of either book to one lucky commenter, winner's choice. I'll pick the winner on May 31^st.

Excerpt:

Clearly it had been way too long since Anna had last gotten laid if her body could respond to a complete stranger in this fashion of reckless abandonment.

He turned his attention back to the room, and Anna released the breath she’d been holding. Brian glared at her, and that uneasy feeling in her stomach returned. She squared her shoulders and stared him down, before Jonathan’s hand on her thigh pulled her attention back to him.

“I would like to thank Anna for her diligent attention to detail in drawing up these reports.” He shifted his hand higher during those few words, until he reached the top of her stocking. Digging one finger underneath he caressed the soft skin of her inner thigh, and Anna forced herself not to squirm and give the game away. “She has been most thorough, and the results will show once and for all who is responsible for this current … mishap.”

He smiled briefly, and looked toward Brian. The older man shrank in his seat. His Adam’s apple bobbed wildly as though he could barely hold onto his saliva. Beads of sweat broke out on his ruddy complexion, and Anna was half expecting the pencil he clutched to splinter under the strain of his white knuckled grip.

“I also feel the need to make it clear that Anna acted under direct orders from myself and her immediate superior.” He nodded toward Anna’s boss, and Leonard Peterson shifted to stand behind Brian, his expression as grave as she’d ever seen it.

“No one here should have any reason to hold the findings of this report against Anna.” Again he paused, and his penetrating gaze swept around the room until he seemed satisfied that he had everyone’s undivided attention. At the same time he shifted his hand higher up the inside of her thigh, until his knuckles brushed against the damp fabric covering her slit. Anna bit her lip to stop herself from moaning. The feather light touch seared her core, and her internal muscles clenched in need. The fabric grew wetter, and he was bound to notice. She risked a peek at his profile, and the slight elevation to his bottom lip told her that he knew exactly how turned on she was.

He took a deep breath and brushed his forefinger against her clit, pressing down just enough to make the little nubbin tingle in anticipation. That smirk of his deepened, when she couldn’t help her involuntary jump in response.

“Likewise no one in this room has anything to fear from these findings, unless they have not been acting in the company’s best interests. If you have indeed been mishandling funds then now would be a prudent time to own up to this fact.”

Again he paused, and Anna held her breath. He looked every inch the ruthless and dangerous business man he was reported to be. His harsh features had drawn tight, his high cheek bones accentuated under the artificial lighting that filled the room, despite the blaring sun outside the windows overlooking London’s skyline. He held himself perfectly still, the muscles bulging in tension under the light summer suit he wore. Only his finger moved in slow, measured circles, designed to drive Anna to the brink of insanity. She grasped hold of her armrests again, and coughed to hide her moan as that finger slipped under the elastic of her underwear and teased her entrance.

“I-I—” Brian shot out of his chair and looked as though he would have made a run for it, had Leonard not grabbed him by the suit lapels and pinned him against the wall. The door burst open, and two burly security guards took over and dragged Brian from the room. Anna was barely aware of the ensuing commotion, because Jonathan chose that moment to thrust two fingers knuckle deep inside her channel. Her pussy walls tightened around the digits, and Anna shut her eyes against the rising sensation deep within. There was something so deliciously naughty about the CEO finger-fucking her under the table.

The barely functioning rational side of her brain urged her to scream, to do something. He was taking liberties with her body that he had no right to take, but the other horny as hell part of her told that side to shut the fuck up, even as Jonathan added his thumb to her clit, pushing her closer and closer to release.

“Leonard, get Anna a glass of water. She is looking a little flushed.”

Her eyes flew open at the amused words, and she knew her cheeks must be as red as the roses in the vase across the room, when her boss stepped close enough to her to see exactly what was happening under the table. Jonathan did not release her. If anything he stepped up his assault, curling his fingers in such a way that he massaged her sweet spot deep inside.

Leonard cleared his throat repeatedly, and the water splashed over the side of the glass he was pouring for Anna, masking the wet sounds of Jonathan’s fingers thrusting in and out of her sopping cunt. She would leave a visible stain on her skirt and chair at this rate, but Anna could no more stop herself from climbing towards bliss than she could stop breathing. She dug her fingers into the arms of her chair and bit her lip so hard she drew blood, as her orgasm hit her with the full force of a speeding train. Irrespective of where she was, or perhaps because of it, waves of pleasure crashed over her, as her body shook in delicious aftershocks. Jonathan did not withdraw his fingers until the last of her shudders stopped, and when she opened her eyes it was to find the room empty, bar the three of them.

****

Author Bio:

Glutton for punishment would be a good description for Doris... at least that's what she hears on an almost daily basis when people find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to toddler and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children, pets, dust bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic goddess she is not.

There is always something better to do after all, like working on the latest manuscript and trying not to scare the locals even more than usual by talking out loud to the voices in her head. Her characters tend to be pretty insistent to get their stories told, and you will find Doris burning the midnight oil on a regular basis. Only time to get any peace and quiet and besides, sleep is for wimps.

She likes to spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.

STALKING LINKS:                                                                                  

Website Blog Twitter Facebook Pinterest Evernight Publishing

Amazon All Romance E-Books BookStrand Barnes&Noble

****

Many thanks to Zara, for letting me ramble on today J

Winners!! And the 'Look' Challenge!

Well Christmas is certainly on its way! We've had our first frosts, my Christmas story is available on Amazon - and I've got winners to announce from my recent blog tour for 'Riding High'.

So, first things first... a massive thanks to Doris O'Connor for hosting me on her blog http://thetardisscribbles.blogspot.co.uk/ and the winner of a copy of 'Riding High' is Rhonda D.

And big thanks to Kath too at http://www.bookreviewsandmorebykathy.com/ and the winner of a copy of 'Forfeit' or 'Freefalling' is Laurie G.

I got tagged by Jane Linfoot recently to take part in the Look challenge... so I've got a snippet from 'Good Enough to Share' for you containing look/looked/looking... and I am tagging Allie A Burrow, Christy McKellen and Tea Cooper - go for it girls!!

My snippet... (warning, this is a cheeky one!)

And, as I watch he closes his eyes, throws his head back, his perfect lips parting as they always do in that moment of suspense just before he comes. And I can’t stop myself looking down, and all I can see is his cock, his slender, long cock in a firm male hand, a hand that is pumping him with steady assured strokes. A hand that isn’t his. A hand that just over twelve months ago shattered my complacent little world into a zillion sharp splinters, and made me open up my mind and my heart….

Would you share?

Fancy something hot for Christmas? I'd certainly find it very hard to say no to the guy on the cover of my new release 'Good Enough to Share', but would I share him?! Hmm, let me think....

Anyway, here's a bit about the book and an excerpt. It's been released on Amazon (links below), but the sample won't be available until early next week, so I thought I'd share with you here!

GOOD ENOUGH TO SHARE (Good Enough, Book 1 – Christmas)

An erotic contemporary romance, including menage, F/M/F, M/F/M and sex outdoors.

One Christmas, four friends – but will they still be together by New Year?

Divorce wasn’t part of the plan for Holly, but then again nor was spending the festive period with two sexy men and Santa’s little helper! With a disastrous marriage behind her, and three good friends who are willing to share, moving on could be fun – if only she can accept that sometimes her heart is wiser than her head.

Dane doesn’t do commitment, which suits Holly just fine. But when things heat up between the four friends, he’s forced to face up to his past. Will realising he’s good enough mean he no longer wants to share…?

Laid back Charlie knows that if his best friend becomes his lover he could end up losing big time. But can he resist? And when the girl he once loved comes back, who will he decide to spend the New Year with?

…And Sophie just wants to have fun. She’s got the answers to everyone's problems, except her own …. is she the one who needs good friends most of all?

Will a caring, sharing, lust and love filled Christmas lead to the happy ever after they all desire?

WARNING - Christmas may never seem the same again!

AVAILABLE FROM - Amazon(UK), Amazon (US) 

EXCERPT

Prologue

Shit happens–isn’t that what you told me Sophie? Some things that you are certain should be a part of your life never materialize. And things you never thought in a million years you’d do just pop up, and before you know it you’ve nodded your head and gone off down a road you never knew existed. Last year was shit and sugar, the sweetest time I never thought I’d have, topped and tailed with stuff I’d just rather forget, and it scares me. Why? Because whatever happens this year can’t match up, can it?

So before you know it twelve months has whizzed by and it’s the start of another bright, new, shiny year full of promise, but the one thing I do know is life just isn’t ever going to be quite the same again.

How the hell am I going to write in this diary every damned day? Nibbling the end of the pen isn’t exactly helping on the inspiration front at all. But diaries aren’t really for boring everyday stuff are they? They’re for revelations, witty repartee, for clever insights and ‘Confucius say’ type declarations of wisdom. Not to record the price of fish and whether I’ve opted for the sensible shoes or killer heels.

It was a typical Sophie thing to give it me as a parting present. She’d pressed it into my hands on New Year’s Eve, just as we’d clambered into bed in a slightly tipsy way, and she’d made me promise, before I’d even unwrapped the damn thing, that I would follow the request inside. And now it is New Year’s Day, and she’s gone–and like the good girl I am, I’m trying to keep my promise.

Bugger. Maybe every day is pushing it, maybe I should just fill up the whole of January right now with one rambling metaphorical outpouring from my jumbled up mind.

So here comes January, my darling Sophie, and it’s got me wondering already. Somehow everything that has happened over the last twelve months to us all wasn’t a surprise to you, was it? It was as though you knew exactly where we were heading. Did you plan it all? It makes me feel slightly less sad about how things have worked out, slightly less sad about you going - if that was what you had in your mind all along. But I’m still going to miss you like hell, even if you can be a bit of a pain in the ass at times.

Yeah Sophie could be a pain. Pushy, opinionated, so full of bubble and life that at times I just wanted to sit on her, shut her up, make her stop and listen. Make her just stop. But she couldn’t, never had. Not until now. Not until she’d finally given herself permission to find some ‘me time’.

I thought I knew you so well Sophie, but now I realize that you managed to shut me right out with your jokes, your hugs and your giving. Yeah, you did a good job of making sure you didn’t let any of us reach that hurt little part of you deep inside. But I still love you, Soph. This year has taught me so much about myself and I think it’s done something for you too. At least I hope so. I hope that you find what you’re looking for out there, and that you’ll come back and tell us it was all worthwhile.

Anyhow, this is my diary and I’ll do my best to do what you wanted me to and fill the bloody thing in. To write it all down so that this time next year we can swap and it’ll be like we never missed a day. My diary, to you and to Charlie, from both of us. Because without Dane there probably won’t be much to tell.

Holly x

I put a strong line straight across under my name, a mix of frustration and hurt that leaves a jagged scar on the page and then I smudge away the splash that isn’t allowed to be a tear from the edge of the page and turned to stare out of the window.

It looks cold outside, icy fresh like it’s supposed to be at this time of the year but seldom is. I rest my elbows on the uneven windowsill and my breath mists up the glass inviting me to trace a pattern, so I do.

I trace our initials on the cold pane like some overgrown kid. H, D and then the C, the C for Charlie that curled around the others, holding them together, and then I add the S. The letter that links and tangles our lives until you can’t tell where one begins and the other ends. The letters start to fade, condensation dripping, bleeding them together and I press my forehead over them, close my eyes to block out the frosted trees, the ice-edged leaves, to invite in the people who make up my life.

It surprises me, but the image pricking at the back of my eyelids isn’t Charlie, it isn’t Dane, it is James. Blond-haired, blue-eyed James, standing there as clear as day, all neat and tidy. The most perfect man in the world, the man I’d stood next to in the church of dreams, the man who had slipped that band of precious gold onto my finger. A promise. Forever, until death do us part.

And, as I watch he closes his eyes, throws his head back, his perfect lips parting as they always do in that moment of suspense just before he comes. And I can’t stop myself looking down, and all I can see is his cock, his slender, long cock in a firm male hand, a hand that is pumping him with steady assured strokes. A hand that isn’t his. A hand that just over twelve months ago shattered my complacent little world into a zillion sharp splinters, and made me open up my mind and my heart….



Chapter One

“Stuff Australia, who needs surf and sand when you’ve got me? We are going to make this the best Christmas ever. We’re going to share everything.”

“Everything?” I raise an eyebrow and Sophie gives a dirty laugh.

“Everything.” Charlie grins in a way that turns him from geek to mischief-maker, his dirty blond hair making him look like some wayward angel. “We’re going to have a really laid-back, do what we want kind of Christmas. Deal?” He tops up my glass with white wine before I have a chance to object. “What about you, Soph, are you going to join the debauchery?”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’ll have another glass of wine, yes.” She held out her glass for a top up. “Christmas Day I think I’ll be stuffing the turkey for my little sis.”

“You can count me in, Charlie.” I planted a kiss on his day old stubble. “But without the debauchery.” There were a lot of worse ways to spend Christmas, like on my own. My folks had made their plan for the festive season while I was still happily delusional about married life, and so I hadn’t been part of them. Instead I’d dropped them off at the airport in the early hours and driven back home, with the knackered heater in the car blowing out cold air, wondering just what kind of Christmas this was going to be.

And Charlie? Well, Charlie always skated round the issue of his family and, from what Sophie had told me, I gathered he did Christmas with friends or not at all. He’d never really explained why, just twittered on about freedom of choice and ideals and some other meaningless crap which wasn’t him at all. But for once he’d been a closed shop. No comment.

I could have gate-crashed my parents trip to the Australian sunshine, but I didn’t want to. Too many questions and too many sympathetic looks, a drunken geek fest with Charlie sounded a far better idea.

We’d met at University and clicked instantly; you know how you can like someone before they even open their mouth? It was that. He was clever, he was a bit of a hunk, he was funny and he was laid-back almost to the point of horizontal. Charlie was one of those people who just made life taste good.

When we graduated I moved down South to take up my dream job and we drifted apart slightly, and then the drift became more of a rift when I met my dream man. James.

Charlie visited once or twice but it had been awkward, he and James had been chalk and cheese, they just hadn’t liked each other at all. And when he’d come to the wedding it felt like he was saying goodbye, a brief awkward standoff. Then the guy I called my best friend had gone off to shag the chief bridesmaid, muttering something about never trusting a man who looked like he spent more time in the bathroom than you did, and in a blink of an eye he’d become my ex-best friend.

I forgave him. I put it down to jealousy at first, but I’d been so high up in the clouds that I must have been suffering from oxygen shortage, or some kind of hormonal disorder that affected my brain. And it wasn’t until those cotton wool clouds got blown abruptly right out of the sky that I discovered he was right. And being the friend he was, he just picked me up and dusted me off without once actually saying it. And he forgave me. And it had just seemed logical that when I decided I needed a new life, a new job, everything, it was up here, in Cheshire, with Charlie and Sophie.

“Don’t let the wine get warm, Holly berry, drink to it.”

“Well, it’s a deal as long as the pair of you don’t make me wear anything as ridiculous as this ever again.” I was more holly leaf than holly berry right now and it was all Sophie’s fault. Sophie, the girl who could charm the birds right out of the trees.

I flipped up the hem of my green tunic and she laughed. A full bodied, warm your soul type of laugh that made every red-blooded male in the bar turn and glance our way.

How on earth I’d let her persuade me to dress up as one of Santa’s little helpers I do not know. Even the words ‘good cause’ don’t usually sway it with me if it involves dressing up and looking an idiot, though in this case undressing was a better description.

Charlie gave the bottom an experimental tug of his own, his fingers fluttering briefly against my barely covered buttocks and I gave him the thump he deserved. I suppose it could have been worse, I could have been a reindeer.

When I’d first met him he’d come across as fairly reserved, and then he’d introduced me to his old mate Sophie and I saw a whole new side of him. Sophie was an indestructible force of nature, but a nice one. It made it far, far harder to say no to anything she suggested. Which I was discovering was dangerous.

“If you’re going to start thumping me, I’m off.”

“You were going anyway.”

“I was. Don’t wait up, I could be late.”

“As in tomorrow morning?” Since I’d taken up Charlie’s offer of a room we’d settled into the comfortable routine of an old married couple. Well, hopefully not the old bit, but very routine. Takeaway pizzas, old films, comfortable pajamas and a goodnight kiss before we went our separate ways to bed. Some nights I’d be out with Sophie, sometimes the three of us would hit the town, and sometimes, just sometimes, Charlie would do a disappearing act.

He grinned and drained his glass. I’d never seen him with a girlfriend, or a boyfriend come to that, his stay-out-late vice just seemed to be the occasional poker game. Unless he just wasn’t telling.

“Later.” He ruffled my hair, blew a kiss at Soph and managed to flip up my tunic again all in one easy movement, and headed for the door before I could retaliate.

I’d never really looked at Charlie before, you know, properly looked - because he was more like a geeky big brother. The annoying idiot who always stole the game controller from you, the guy who laughed at your high heels and told you the tart look was hot this season. The guy who was always there to cuddle up to and offer wise words when you’d had a shit day. But for some reason I was looking now, well staring, at his trim bum that his expensive chinos were hugging like a second skin. And I felt tempted, very tempted.

“Can he surf?”

“What?” Sophie gave me her ‘you’ve grown two heads’ look. Shit I’d done that speaking out loud thing when it was supposed to be in my head.

“I was just wondering. He just looks like he should be on a surf board in the sun somewhere.”

“Oh yeah, sure. The sun kissed beaches of Anglesey.” Sophie did sarcasm well, very well.

“They don’t get breakers there do they? I was thinking more sun-drenched Australia.”

“Is there something in your wine that I’ve missed out on?” She was right, it was a bit random, but I have this thing with people where I tend to imagine what they really should be doing, and I’d just had this startling image of Charlie with his hair slightly longer, and his body slightly more toned. He’d make a good surfer dude.

“Anyway, forget Charlie, I’ve just spotted something much better.”

The evil glint in her eye, and the instant switch-on of her sultry smile should have warned me, but being one drink up and a bit slow on the uptake I swung round to follow the line of her sight. And really wished I had kept my head turned and my nose buried in my wine glass.

“You two out on the pull then?” You know how some deep male voices have that perfect resonance to vibrate right down to the bottom of your stomach and beyond? Yeah, that. I was blushing from the inside out and I had completely and utterly forgotten about Charlie, with or without a surfboard.

Christ, why was it that every time Dane Stephens popped up I was dressed in something that either said ‘shag me, I’m a complete tart’ or ‘I’m a complete saddo’? Or in this case a mixture of both. The fact that Sophie and I were propping up the bar, both with a goblet of wine in hand each didn’t help with the image much either.

“We’ve been working.” I tried to keep my face straight and stop my nipples making a break for freedom as the gorgeous guy who seemed to feature in every one of my current run of dirty dreams rested his hand on my shoulder and sent a warm thrill straight between my thighs. Along with a very strong urge to grab hold of him and give him the type of kiss that would leave a lasting impression. Gee, life would be so much easier if that kind of full frontal attack was one of my special skills. It wasn’t. Best mates with a bit of flirting thrown in as a side order was a better description of my capabilities.

I’d been having dirty dreams about Dane for as long as I can remember. Well, probably since the first time all six foot something of him had swaggered into this bar and given me the type of smile that gave me an almost, emphasis on almost here, uncontrollable urge to strip every last inch of his clothing off in slow motion. But I hadn’t, because nice girls don’t, do they?

“Been out hammering shoes on?” I tweaked a bit of straw out of his thick dark hair and resisted the urge to tangle my fingers in deeper, just in case I’d missed a bit. And then rub a hand over that broad, strong chest just for good measure. He was buff underneath that shirt, I just knew it. Well, I did actually. I’d seen him strip to the waist the odd time at the tail end of the summer when we’d actually seen a bit of that golden orb in the sky they call the sun, and he’d built up a sweat manhandling horses. And along with every other girl on the yard I’d gone weak-kneed and tried not to stare as I’d watched his muscles ripple and a trickle of sweat bead its way down his back. A bead of sweat that needed licking off.

I’d had a thing about cowboys, well, since I was fifteen when my boy friend, as in two separate words, had dragged me along to watch a western in the local cinema. His idea had been to get his tongue down my throat, but he’d faded into insignificance when the hero of the piece had got off his horse. This had been no normal cowboy, he’d been naked down to the low slung jeans that barely scraped his hips and when he’d slipped one hand under the waistband, just as he tugged the girl in for a kiss the rush of dampness to my knickers had shocked me. And left me squirming, and meant that the boy friend got an end of show, tongue twisting snog that shocked me more than as it did him.

And as I grew up I realized men like that just didn’t exist. I just never met a man who’d had the same effect on me, not even the man I’d married had done that. Until Dane had walked in four long months ago and been the nearest thing to a cowboy that the English counties had to offer. He’d probably never had a Stetson on his head, or a rifle in his hand, but I bet he’d look good on a horse and even if he didn’t, in my mind it just didn’t matter. Dane was just hot, and made me hot, and wet.

His jeans were slung just the same, so I just knew I’d be able to see his hip bones if I unbuttoned that thick cotton shirt. And boy did I want to, and I was just itching to slip my own hand tight in there. I just needed an excuse and September through December had left me too tongue-tied to find one. Even if my horse seemed to be throwing a shoe on a weekly basis and he’d been out an embarrassing number of times.

“Yeah, lots of thrown shoes, darling, you know ‘tis the season.” He winked and my mouth watered. Literally. Much more and I’d be drooling, a drooling elf who would have thought? Bugger, I really did need a plan or I’d be spending another Christmas morning just wishing I’d asked Santa for the type of toy box that had long life batteries and lube in it. But was quiet enough not to disturb Charlie. “Hi Dane, boy. We—” Sophie was practically licking her lips, he had that effect on every female old enough to have hormones, as she drew herself up to her full five-foot one and a half inches and put a hand on his arm “—have been doing our good Samaritan bit.” She knew him? I didn’t know which bit made the feeling of empty spread in my stomach, the fact that she knew him, or she knew him. Because from the way she was grinning in a slightly flirty, slightly too cosy way meant she definitely knew him. Every bit of him.

 ***

Hope you enjoyed it!

Zara x