Thursday, December 01, 2011

After All These Years

Has it really been many months since I last posted here? Time flies when you're writing up a storm! I have been busy with plenty of work, all of which will be coming to a website, ebook or print book near you very soon.

Speaking of print books, they are finally here! A Week in the Snow and The Green Room have been released in paperback. Though I really do love the ease of ebooks, there is something about holding a print book in my hands that never gets old. It's nice to see my words have found the best of both worlds!

Over the next few weeks, I will put up naughty experts from both. In the meantime, you can get your copies here.

If you're looking for a sexy snack of a story rather than the full-length sexiness, After All These Years fits the bill. It's my latest ebook release. Here's the blurb:

When Marilyn first meets William at the train station on a cold December day, she thinks he’s crazy. Soon she realises that he’s not crazy—just quirky—and she is stunned that he recognises her as the wife of Bobby Overmire, a Marine who was killed in the Beirut bombings in 1983. As time passes, Marilyn becomes much more interested in William than in the husband she lost over two decades ago. But William is harbouring a secret—a secret that could destroy Marilyn’s world all over again.
And here's a preview:

“What did Bobby tell you about me?” I asked.

William smiled and settled more comfortably on the couch. Tonight he wore a short-sleeved dress shirt and jeans, much more casual wear than I had seen him in before. When he shifted on the couch, the shirt showed a small glimpse of a very bad scar on his left arm, just below the line of the cotton.

“Bobby told me everything,” he said with a playful, ominous tone.

I laughed dutifully, then asked him the question again. This time he thought for a while before answering.

“He told me you like flowers. Yellow. You always wore yellow sundresses. You wore your hair up in a bun until he got home, then you took it down because he liked to see it that way. You burnt pizza every time, no matter how often you made it. You liked long bubble baths. You listened to him even when he thought you weren’t. You took care of your mother when she was sick.”

The words rolled from his lips so easily that I knew he had thought about those things for many years.

He stared into his champagne glass. “You sang along with the radio. You washed your hair with his beer. That drove him nuts. You had this pretty little nightgown that you always wore when you were feeling frisky.” William blushed, but didn’t look up.

I stared at him, not knowing what to say. William shifted again on the couch and for the first time I realised I could feel the heat of his body. The mere inches separating his arm from mine no longer seemed like a chasm.


“You kissed him like he was the only man on Earth.”

In New York, the crowd was going wild. The gaudy crystal ball was flashing. As I watched, it started to drop. New York revellers were counting down the numbers with increasing frenzy.

William set his champagne glass on the table and turned to me. At the same time, I closed the distance by reaching out and lightly brushing his arm with the back of my hand. Though his left hand didn’t move, his right one did. He reached up and touched my hair, ran his fingertips through it, and moved closer. When I thought he would kiss me, he buried his nose in my hair and took a deep breath. He held very still as the numbers counted down and the crowd on the television screen got louder.

“Happy New Year, Marilyn,” he whispered into my ear.

He kissed me just as Dick Clark announced that the New Year had officially arrived in New York. William kissed me shyly, not touching anywhere but my lips. He nibbled with slow kisses at first, delving deeper with every one until his tongue touched mine.

It was like a match to dry tinder. I kissed him back, suddenly ravenous for what he tasted like, and he responded in kind. He kicked away the blankets and pushed me back against the corner of the couch until there was nowhere I could go and nothing I could do but kiss him right back. I was kissing him with every pent-up year of sexual frustration I had in me.

My loyal readers might recognize this couple -- they were introduced to you several years ago (again, time flies!). I hope you will take the journey down memory lane with them!

More soon (seriously!),

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