Now Presenting:
*** SPECIAL FEATURE - July 2014 ***
About the Book
Coerced into partaking in a tryst, Julia soon found her agreement to be a severe miscalculation. Locked now in a battle of will and lascivious demands with the handsome Adonis himself, the simplicity of lust quickly spiraled into rivalry, as both drudged further in their quest to outwit, outlast and outmaneuver the other.
Excerpt 1
Michael watched as her vehicle shouldered the curve of the long drive to a stop, eyeing this from the shelter of his garage, he smiled rigidly to himself. Long fingers worked determinedly through a collection of drawers, hardly seeing the nifty apparatuses clearly clogging his progress. He blindly brushed the hard metal of each tool, shuffling their placement. Michael set each piece noisily back in a sham. With numb defiance to his hunt, he slammed open another drawer, again unable to settle on that which he did not seek. His whole reason for being there was a well strategized farce. Only needing to look her over for a spell, the garage put both discretion and aloofness comfortably in his hand——if only for a minute.
Discreetly, Michael eyed the long, slender legs as they slowly alighted to the ground. Leisurely unfolding her body from the car, she looked as delectable as any banquet he’d ever had. Glancing over at him then, she smiled, and his response again was not what it should have been. Waving back, Michael returned the greeting as spontaneously controlled as he could. Turning back to the drawers, he selected the largest plier that he had, inspecting its worth. He dropped it for one smaller with a longer nose, and there again he repeated the auditing process.
His body was disturbingly tense. Too tense for him to shake with a simple shrug, and although he had no need for the tools he sought. The scavenging kept him from pouncing the minute she drew within reach. This whole thing was like an unnatural geyser that showed no means of rest, not having experienced anything of the sort before. He felt almost ready to crawl from his own skin.
“Welcome back!” Michael called softly as she neared, looking much like a cat out for an afternoon sunning. His leisured steps brought him through the open mouth of the garage.
“Thank you. Thanks for having me.”
Now there’s a thought. Michael smirked in silence, and it quickly became work to drag his thoughts away from a sudden vision of her undressed. “Anytime,” He growled softly, answering her statement as well as his errant thoughts.
Julia’s steps stalled almost three feet from his person, smiling politely at her host, her eyes swept the lawn in one encompassing wave. “I can’t believe how nice the day turned out.” She murmured in a single breath, taking her first stab at small-talk with a Dunhill. The surrounding grounds were evocative of an island, guarded by a large mass of the willow-like giants. It stood serenely obscured by itself. “I was beginning to wonder if winter was here to stay.”
“I guess then, the cold is not your cup of tea?”
“I’m a summer baby, through and through.” She avowed proudly, gifting then a smile that was more than the usual polite sheen. “I’ll take the heat over the cold any day.”
“I can see you being a summer girl.” He rumbled with a slow nod.
“Why is that? And if you say it’s because of my sunny disposition, you and I will be at war.”
“No.” Michael countered coolly, his eyes moving steady to her face. Broad shoulders rose slowly and then rested before giving further reply. “You just do.” He expounded in a husky tone. His hazel eyes locking with hers, and the silence that followed grew intimate in its unfurling.
“Is...Is Phillip in?” Julia stuttered softly, dragging her attention away from his grasp. She again gazed out at the lawn.
“He’s in the house.” Michael answered in a rumbly hum, drawing a potent conclusion there and then. He announced his decision in his head, as if needing to confirm it with himself. I’m going after her. He established with a silent shrug. Work and everything else be damned!
“Oh.” Mouthing this, instead of giving actual speech, the single word fell like the mimicking of a rock. Skimming the shallow surface of a pond, it immediately fell stagnant behind the initial splash. Tentatively, Julia swiveled from the intensity in his gaze, turning towards the front entrance of the house. She but took the first step before he stalled her progress with his speech.
“Why don’t we go through here?” Michael interjected with a quiet sigh, motioning towards the mouth of the garage. He stepped wordlessly from her path. Feeling suddenly unfettered by his pledge, he ignored the stuttering silence that had since pressed itself close. Her perfume drifted calculatingly along the narrow chambers of his nostrils as she passed. It floated about him as a mocking reminder of his favorite flowering scent, and on her. The fragrance was not only sweet, it was alluring. Wafting from her person, it moved like a hypnotic breeze over the guarded walls of his senses. Intriguing and beguiling every region of his mind and body, it goaded his immeasurable yearns into wanting more. But already, her eager feet neared the threshold in their rush for escape.
Excerpt 2
Michael watched as her vehicle shouldered the curve of the long drive to a stop, eyeing this from the shelter of his garage, he smiled rigidly to himself. Long fingers worked determinedly through a collection of drawers, hardly seeing the nifty apparatuses clearly clogging his progress. He blindly brushed the hard metal of each tool, shuffling their placement. Michael set each piece noisily back in a sham. With numb defiance to his hunt, he slammed open another drawer, again unable to settle on that which he did not seek. His whole reason for being there was a well strategized farce. Only needing to look her over for a spell, the garage put both discretion and aloofness comfortably in his hand——if only for a minute.
Discreetly, Michael eyed the long, slender legs as they slowly alighted to the ground. Leisurely unfolding her body from the car, she looked as delectable as any banquet he’d ever had. Glancing over at him then, she smiled, and his response again was not what it should have been. Waving back, Michael returned the greeting as spontaneously controlled as he could. Turning back to the drawers, he selected the largest plier that he had, inspecting its worth. He dropped it for one smaller with a longer nose, and there again he repeated the auditing process.
His body was disturbingly tense. Too tense for him to shake with a simple shrug, and although he had no need for the tools he sought. The scavenging kept him from pouncing the minute she drew within reach. This whole thing was like an unnatural geyser that showed no means of rest, not having experienced anything of the sort before. He felt almost ready to crawl from his own skin.
“Welcome back!” Michael called softly as she neared, looking much like a cat out for an afternoon sunning. His leisured steps brought him through the open mouth of the garage.
“Thank you. Thanks for having me.”
Now there’s a thought. Michael smirked in silence, and it quickly became work to drag his thoughts away from a sudden vision of her undressed. “Anytime,” He growled softly, answering her statement as well as his errant thoughts.
Julia’s steps stalled almost three feet from his person, smiling politely at her host, her eyes swept the lawn in one encompassing wave. “I can’t believe how nice the day turned out.” She murmured in a single breath, taking her first stab at small-talk with a Dunhill. The surrounding grounds were evocative of an island, guarded by a large mass of the willow-like giants. It stood serenely obscured by itself. “I was beginning to wonder if winter was here to stay.”
“I guess then, the cold is not your cup of tea?”
“I’m a summer baby, through and through.” She avowed proudly, gifting then a smile that was more than the usual polite sheen. “I’ll take the heat over the cold any day.”
“I can see you being a summer girl.” He rumbled with a slow nod.
“Why is that? And if you say it’s because of my sunny disposition, you and I will be at war.”
“No.” Michael countered coolly, his eyes moving steady to her face. Broad shoulders rose slowly and then rested before giving further reply. “You just do.” He expounded in a husky tone. His hazel eyes locking with hers, and the silence that followed grew intimate in its unfurling.
“Is...Is Phillip in?” Julia stuttered softly, dragging her attention away from his grasp. She again gazed out at the lawn.
“He’s in the house.” Michael answered in a rumbly hum, drawing a potent conclusion there and then. He announced his decision in his head, as if needing to confirm it with himself. I’m going after her. He established with a silent shrug. Work and everything else be damned!
“Oh.” Mouthing this, instead of giving actual speech, the single word fell like the mimicking of a rock. Skimming the shallow surface of a pond, it immediately fell stagnant behind the initial splash. Tentatively, Julia swiveled from the intensity in his gaze, turning towards the front entrance of the house. She but took the first step before he stalled her progress with his speech.
“Why don’t we go through here?” Michael interjected with a quiet sigh, motioning towards the mouth of the garage. He stepped wordlessly from her path. Feeling suddenly unfettered by his pledge, he ignored the stuttering silence that had since pressed itself close. Her perfume drifted calculatingly along the narrow chambers of his nostrils as she passed. It floated about him as a mocking reminder of his favorite flowering scent, and on her. The fragrance was not only sweet, it was alluring. Wafting from her person, it moved like a hypnotic breeze over the guarded walls of his senses. Intriguing and beguiling every region of his mind and body, it goaded his immeasurable yearns into wanting more. But already, her eager feet neared the threshold in their rush for escape.
Excerpt 2
The silence between them grew abundantly rich, as did the pleasant intoxicant that it lent. Wrapping itself around them with a flavor that grew increasingly fervent, the sensation was strangely electrifying to the soul, and with it, she could find no effort nor urge or reason to move from the heat of his gaze. She, instead, remained quelled. Warmed by the intensity of what he gave over in his scrutiny of her. Skillfully, he stroked tinder along her spine, stoking its sparks until the spasms felt were not only isolated in her chest. This makes no sense, she reasoned, having such reaction to a mere look. How can that be? Nonetheless, the substance that it gave was undeniably sweet.
Michael drank in the arc of her features with reverence. Absorbing every morsel that he could, as the urge to taste her soared fiercer than it ever had before, finding her exceedingly appetizing, though it was not only his eyes that she fed so enticingly well.
“May I ask you a favor?” she whispered at last, and the quiet question startled the taut stricture of the room, dispelling the shock like a shrug. The room took a calming breath.
“Yes, of course.” Michael hummed, forcing his eyes from the object of his want. He recaptured the pooling of her dark eyes. The dark orbs waited his ascension as intently as he awaited her request. Though she gave none in reply, instead, she took an advancing step. Pausing nervously, she visually swallowed before adding a subsequent step to her plod, and as if the gesture granted her the strength she needed. Her progress soon took her within reach of his hand.
“Could you put your hands in your pocket, please?” she asked.
“What?”
“Put your hands in your pockets, please.” She repeated blandly, her voice now strained in her throat, forcing her directive to spill in a soft, croaky tone. Slowly digging his hands into the copious depths, Michael guardedly complied, his confusion now evident in the curious gaze that he dropped to her face. Ignoring the silent inquest, Julia waded close. Averse in her plotting, she flouted clarification of what bore no sound reason in her head. “Do you promise not to move?” she asked in a low voice, and watched as a slow nod came as the means of his assurance, thus prompting her to take the final step.
Tentatively, she stopped just short of touching her breasts to his chest. Willing the action as an assertion of self, something she needed to do to retake control, for in her mind that’s all that was needed to rescind his hold. All the strange emotions her body now expelled were all due to his relentless attack. They could hardly be considered real or carried any substance to their bite, and therefore needed to be dealt with, with the swiftest of haste. Evidently, she was not as immune to his charm as she once thought. But that, too, would also have an end, as she intended to stunt the problem in its tracks. Be the instigator and watched the madness die.
Michael stood with his hands confiscated in the ample depth of his pockets. Having responded to her request like a dutiful slave, his interest was aptly piqued. Steadily, her scent moved around him like a curtain, walling him off pleasantly from everything but her. The heat of her body boldly stroked him wherever it rest, as did the soft zephyr of her breath, and it felt no different had she fanned her fingers over the skin of his chest. A touch of mint minced the spicy air between them, and until then, he could not remember ever wanting a mint more.
Indomitably, Michael’s fist tightened into a hard ball, fixedly making his pockets their temporary tomb, now grateful for the insight she had in securing his promise. For had she not procured such pledge, he would be nulling a fraction of space with them locked at her back.
Julia’s heart thumped in her chest like a wild equine treading up a rancorous hill, and it showed no sign of steadying its pace. This was not the consequence she predicted when she initiated the attack. Was her body really responding to him or was this something else? There were urges being stroked conscious that could not be. Feelings that were making itself known that should not. Steeping, they seethed to a familiar hanker that fund no outlet but one. How could this have happened? When? She was so careful in retaining her focus. Staying divorced of the man regardless of who or what he was. Griping the censure in the stadium of her head, she welcomed the thick, shelter of darkness as she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she drank in his scent.
His smell was like a virus not yet known to her body, affecting it in ways that was utterly foreign to her. It commanded her will. Hailing her body soundly from the chasm that it dwelled, and in answer, she fought the urge to drop her head to the cradle of his waiting chest. Or beg to endure the comfort of his arms and just rest. Did she want this? Did she want him to kiss her? She groaned, her copious thoughts soaring to no end, twisting, they turned inside her head like an excavation gone awry. It was hard to discern reality or what just madness was. Everything flew by so quickly, she was well beyond the rocky edge of confusion.
God, he wanted to delve! For the provocation was no less maddening than being a hungry peasant in a patisserie. Having no means in which to partake of the food, you’re left to savor the distinctive flavor of both sight and smell. Stilling the rantings in his head, a low grunt sailed from Michael’s throat in reply, and in the silence that followed. The urge to eat grew increasingly strong. Not one part of their bodies decisively touched, she was fastidious in her certainty of that. But the stance was no less erotic had foreplay been a mutual undertaking between them. And he could not help that his mind swallowed the bait on that thought, dragging his torment further than a sensible man would allow.
Much like the start of a dance, her body swayed towards him in a dozy show, though she quickly stilled the predisposing of her action. Lifting her face from its hover near the bed of his chest, her eyes walked slowly up the broad width, yet the brown gaze came no farther than his mouth. A long, torturous minute passed before she gave a tame nod, dropping her gaze, she slowly retreated from the inferno she so adeptly created.
“Thank you.” She mouthed then.
And with that, the moment was gone. Lasting only minutes in full, he could still feel her presence where she once stood, though the place had gone precipitously cold with her hasty retreat. Their stance had been like a sapid seduction, and he had never been so beautifully seduced with so little contact before. He indubitably wanted more. Decisively, Michael hands slid from the crypt that once held them in wait, easing coercively behind her back, they pulled her close in a leisured tow, signaling his go. It was now his turn to start a new game, his time for seducing, and his approach on how to get the job done.
“Do I get a turn?” Michael whispered hoarsely, his face already pressed close, each word brought a caressing to her cheek. The firm muscles of his chest swept the swells of her breasts as he eased her closer yet, stopping just short of steaming her to his flesh. He conceded the magic that the contact brought with a rakish smile. She made no effort to resist the directive of his hands, neither did she look surprised by the new turn of event. Her eyes looked, instead, like a magical pool, and in every way he longed to dive in and go for an extensive swim.
Michael drank in the arc of her features with reverence. Absorbing every morsel that he could, as the urge to taste her soared fiercer than it ever had before, finding her exceedingly appetizing, though it was not only his eyes that she fed so enticingly well.
“May I ask you a favor?” she whispered at last, and the quiet question startled the taut stricture of the room, dispelling the shock like a shrug. The room took a calming breath.
“Yes, of course.” Michael hummed, forcing his eyes from the object of his want. He recaptured the pooling of her dark eyes. The dark orbs waited his ascension as intently as he awaited her request. Though she gave none in reply, instead, she took an advancing step. Pausing nervously, she visually swallowed before adding a subsequent step to her plod, and as if the gesture granted her the strength she needed. Her progress soon took her within reach of his hand.
“Could you put your hands in your pocket, please?” she asked.
“What?”
“Put your hands in your pockets, please.” She repeated blandly, her voice now strained in her throat, forcing her directive to spill in a soft, croaky tone. Slowly digging his hands into the copious depths, Michael guardedly complied, his confusion now evident in the curious gaze that he dropped to her face. Ignoring the silent inquest, Julia waded close. Averse in her plotting, she flouted clarification of what bore no sound reason in her head. “Do you promise not to move?” she asked in a low voice, and watched as a slow nod came as the means of his assurance, thus prompting her to take the final step.
Tentatively, she stopped just short of touching her breasts to his chest. Willing the action as an assertion of self, something she needed to do to retake control, for in her mind that’s all that was needed to rescind his hold. All the strange emotions her body now expelled were all due to his relentless attack. They could hardly be considered real or carried any substance to their bite, and therefore needed to be dealt with, with the swiftest of haste. Evidently, she was not as immune to his charm as she once thought. But that, too, would also have an end, as she intended to stunt the problem in its tracks. Be the instigator and watched the madness die.
Michael stood with his hands confiscated in the ample depth of his pockets. Having responded to her request like a dutiful slave, his interest was aptly piqued. Steadily, her scent moved around him like a curtain, walling him off pleasantly from everything but her. The heat of her body boldly stroked him wherever it rest, as did the soft zephyr of her breath, and it felt no different had she fanned her fingers over the skin of his chest. A touch of mint minced the spicy air between them, and until then, he could not remember ever wanting a mint more.
Indomitably, Michael’s fist tightened into a hard ball, fixedly making his pockets their temporary tomb, now grateful for the insight she had in securing his promise. For had she not procured such pledge, he would be nulling a fraction of space with them locked at her back.
Julia’s heart thumped in her chest like a wild equine treading up a rancorous hill, and it showed no sign of steadying its pace. This was not the consequence she predicted when she initiated the attack. Was her body really responding to him or was this something else? There were urges being stroked conscious that could not be. Feelings that were making itself known that should not. Steeping, they seethed to a familiar hanker that fund no outlet but one. How could this have happened? When? She was so careful in retaining her focus. Staying divorced of the man regardless of who or what he was. Griping the censure in the stadium of her head, she welcomed the thick, shelter of darkness as she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she drank in his scent.
His smell was like a virus not yet known to her body, affecting it in ways that was utterly foreign to her. It commanded her will. Hailing her body soundly from the chasm that it dwelled, and in answer, she fought the urge to drop her head to the cradle of his waiting chest. Or beg to endure the comfort of his arms and just rest. Did she want this? Did she want him to kiss her? She groaned, her copious thoughts soaring to no end, twisting, they turned inside her head like an excavation gone awry. It was hard to discern reality or what just madness was. Everything flew by so quickly, she was well beyond the rocky edge of confusion.
God, he wanted to delve! For the provocation was no less maddening than being a hungry peasant in a patisserie. Having no means in which to partake of the food, you’re left to savor the distinctive flavor of both sight and smell. Stilling the rantings in his head, a low grunt sailed from Michael’s throat in reply, and in the silence that followed. The urge to eat grew increasingly strong. Not one part of their bodies decisively touched, she was fastidious in her certainty of that. But the stance was no less erotic had foreplay been a mutual undertaking between them. And he could not help that his mind swallowed the bait on that thought, dragging his torment further than a sensible man would allow.
Much like the start of a dance, her body swayed towards him in a dozy show, though she quickly stilled the predisposing of her action. Lifting her face from its hover near the bed of his chest, her eyes walked slowly up the broad width, yet the brown gaze came no farther than his mouth. A long, torturous minute passed before she gave a tame nod, dropping her gaze, she slowly retreated from the inferno she so adeptly created.
“Thank you.” She mouthed then.
And with that, the moment was gone. Lasting only minutes in full, he could still feel her presence where she once stood, though the place had gone precipitously cold with her hasty retreat. Their stance had been like a sapid seduction, and he had never been so beautifully seduced with so little contact before. He indubitably wanted more. Decisively, Michael hands slid from the crypt that once held them in wait, easing coercively behind her back, they pulled her close in a leisured tow, signaling his go. It was now his turn to start a new game, his time for seducing, and his approach on how to get the job done.
“Do I get a turn?” Michael whispered hoarsely, his face already pressed close, each word brought a caressing to her cheek. The firm muscles of his chest swept the swells of her breasts as he eased her closer yet, stopping just short of steaming her to his flesh. He conceded the magic that the contact brought with a rakish smile. She made no effort to resist the directive of his hands, neither did she look surprised by the new turn of event. Her eyes looked, instead, like a magical pool, and in every way he longed to dive in and go for an extensive swim.
About the Author
A ravenous reader with equal passion for travel and the plotting of anything new, my love of words seemed, at times, a blotch on the very core of my DNA, and has been the recurrent source of many jests from my children—the title nerd has been established more than once. Yet the sound, meaning and inference, cannot be more beautiful than those in the notes of a newly toned word, or in the coupling of such to lay forth a vision. With as little as a single word we can open the world to those around us, garner a smile or lay bare intrigue. Yes, such morpheme can wrought a symphony when showcased at its best, doth those cords strum you as it does me? Then smile, as I am with you. Salacious and sweet, it wrung further forward as your key.
As you can see, I’m clearly odd in my thinking, odd in my views and downright peculiar in my descriptive and the structure in which I write. Among my many faults, a fact I’m sure you’ve already surmised, emotions are my perpetual weakness. I’m wooed by it, seduced and persuaded by it, touched and enthralled by the various colliery of it all. Whatever the scenario or the plot that charged through my thoughts, the emotional furor in each turn scramble just as eagerly through, be it harsh or be it sweet, the significance is still the same. It’s the medicine I search for when I read, it’s the way I interact with my children and, in many aspect, the way I live my life.
Giveaway
1 Paperback Copy for US Residents
1 Digital Copy for International Readers
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