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Happy Masturbation Month! In Praise of the One-Handed Read

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I’m a bit like a kid at Christmas when May rolls around. Why’s that, you ask. It’s National Masturbation month, that’s Sex toy incentiveMG00625-20140322-1049

why! I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see something as healthy, life-affirming, and down-right fun as masturbation get a little much-needed positive press. So I decided that, as National Masturbation month draws to a close (not that the fun is ending, just the month) that I’d write a few words in praise of the much-maligned one-handed read.

I’ve always felt that just because a writer strives to give the reader a well-rounded literary experience with a story that’s gripping (no pun intended), pacey, thought-provoking and satisfying on some level; just because a writer tries to offer the reader a well-written, stonking good story doesn’t mean that  stonking good story can’t involve a little one-handed pleasure mixed in. Why the hell shouldn’t it?

Doesn’t it seem strange and more than a little sad that some of the world’s best, most celebrated writers find themselves on the not-so-coveted short-list for the Bad Sex Awards? Is there some misguided, unwritten rule that states a story is only ‘worthy’ if it doesn’t make the reader squirm deliciously in her seat, if it doesn’t makes her need to engage one hand in areas far south of the novel in her grip? And where the hell did we get the idea that just that one act, in fact the most crucial act of the human condition, sex, should not be treated with the same weight, or the same tongue-in cheek irreverence or the same heart pounding delight or wonder or horror as any other part of the human condition?

If a writer gets the sex right, I mean gets it really right, then what other response should there be but for our bodies to books_xl_4571699tingle and our hands to stray?

Which leads me to another reason why a one-handed read should be praised and sought after by readers and writers alike. A well-written one-handed read engages the reader on a physical level that no other type of read can. A one-handed read takes the reader a level deeper than the voyeuristic experience that reading tends to be. A one-handed read allows and demands reader participation in solidarity with the characters, and, indeed, with the writer. The story suddenly becomes interactive in a literal sense. And even more than that, the story suddenly becomes a sexy ménage between the reader, the characters and the writer.

Okay, maybe it’s that feeling of exposure; maybe it’s that fear of being caught in the act, so to speak, that frightens writers away from making the sex hot and squirmy. But it’s a lesson straight from the pages of creative writing 101 that the place we most fear, the place we feel the most vulnerable is the place where the most powerful writing happens. Embrace the wank!

Those of us who love to read love a story we can be pulled into. I love a good adrenalin rush, a good heart stopper, a good brain teaser, a good tear jerker, a good happy ending, so why wouldn’t I like a good wank all in the spirit of a sexy story? Why do we think that good writing is negated if our stories make people want to go rub one out?

I’ve been involved in the world of erotica for enough years now to have seen the quality of writing go through the roof, enough years to have been gripped by heart-stopping, tear jerking, brain-teasing stories that STILL have fabulous, seamlessly-written, deliciously sensual one-handed scenes. Why can’t a good book be both a page turner and a one-handed read? We now connect with story on so many more levels than ever before. We read eBooks, we listen to audio books, we curl up with a good old fashion trade paper-back and a glass of wine. But really, was there ever a time when reading a good book wasn’t intended to be a sensual experience, wasn’t meant to make us FEEL things in our body that we wouldn’t otherwise feel, wasn’t meant to scratch an itch that nothing else could quite scratch? So why, oh why, should we exclude that best of, most intimate of — that even better than a nice glass of wine sensual experience of the one-handed read?

Oh no doubt there’ll always be a need for sexy snippets just long enough and hot enough to get the rocks off, and I like
those just fine too. But why should one-handed reads be reserved for just such works? Why shouldn’t the sex scenes in any type of novel or story be well-written enough, steamy enough, raunchy enough to send one hand straying? It seems to me that if a sex scene is well written, then we should at least feel something down in the genital direction. I’m not saying that everything written about sex should be a turn-on, but I am saying it should affect us in some way because sex affects us. It affects us powerfully, uncomfortably, sometimes disturbingly, and it often affects us the most because we don’t want it to and we don’t understand why it does, nor do we understand its power over us. But it most definitely DOES have power over us. It’s supposed to have, so to try to write sex that excludes and banishes the one-handed read seems absurd.america-artist-art-paintings-prints-note-cards-by-howard-chandler-christy-nude-women-reading-approximate-original-size-18x16

Without getting all mystical and goose-pimply and bringing on the sex magic; doing my best to keep it real and genuine, I have to ask; when is there a time that a writer doesn’t want a reader to feel her work, to experience her story as so much more than words on a page? Why should our sexual responses not be fully included in the experience of story? So I’ll say it again: let’s hear it for the one-handed read!

Happy Masturbation Month! I wish you all gripping, touching, deliciously squirmy reading. And writing!

(Parts of this post excerpted from my ERWA post May 2013)

Sommer Marsden talks about Her New Release, HAUNTED: A Labor of Love

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Ferris Wheel

It’s my pleasure to welcome a fabulous storyteller and one of my very favourite people, Sommer Marsden, to my place today to celebrate the release of her latest novel, Haunted, which is truly a labour of love.

*****

This was not an easy blog to write. Which is why I made poor KD wait for it. For that, I apologize.

It mainly comes from the fact that I love my new book Haunted. I love it because it contains characters that are damaged but resilient. I love that it is all about the healing hope of love and perseverance. I love that it contains a story line that practically wrote itself. And I love it because it was the last book I wrote while my husband Jim was still alive.

In fact, I finished it about a week before he passed. The entirety of the book was written in the midst of 24/7 caregiving. Bad sleep hours. Bad days. Hard days. Difficult and sad times. But like the characters, I decided to cling to what saved me when I was in a bad way—for me that’s writing.

So, I wrote. I wrote the entire book in our bedroom at his bedside. I wrote while he slept or was too zoned out on morphine to have a conversation. I paused writing when he’d say, “What ya writing, baby?” to tell him. I paused when he needed me.

Considering all that could be considered bad memories, in a way, I adore this book. The male lead Maddox, like all my wonderful male characters, is rooted in my husband’s personality, his ways, his kindness, his understanding and his love. For that reason alone it would be worth loving. But another reason I cherish Haunted is that when I see the book I feel his energy. His devotion. His support. I remember that without Jim I never would have fulfilled my goal to become a full-time writer. He put his faith in me, took the main ‘bread-winner’ role for a time, and gave me the shot to write for a living.

And I flourished.

So yeah, it’s a ghost story. It has scary bits, and loving bits, and sexy bits, and healing bits. But above all that, it’s the last book written while the love of my life was still with me. It’s dedicated to him (as all my books are) and it makes me remember those last few precious days with him. So, I guess you could say that Haunted haunts me but in a lovely way. A way that allows me to remember how incredibly lucky I was to have that man in my life for nineteen years. And that makes it precious to me.

For those of you who’ve read it and reviewed it, thank you! And to those of you who are considering it, thank you, also. I’m very proud of this book, and the man who made it so that I could write books, which is all I’ve ever wanted to do. <3

XOXO

Sommer

 

Ferris Wheel

 

Two people lost and alone in life searching for answers…

Maddox visits abandoned sites to take photographs and figure out his future. He haunts the places that are monuments to the way he feels inside. Stark, empty, raw. And Olyvia searches for answers to her own painful loss by hunting ghosts. Trying to comfort herself by seeking proof of an afterlife.

One haunted amusement park with a dark history…

Maddox and Olyvia recognize kindred souls in one another. But a chance to fully explore their connection is a luxury they may not have. There’s a ghost stalking Screamland hell-bent on revenge. And it’s targeting them. 

 

Excerpt:

“Wait,” he said. It killed Maddox to draw away from her. Her thighs were wrapped around his waist, her body hot against his. But he had to. “Right back.”

He moved across the room and found his bag. In the inside zippered pocket were condoms. He grabbed one and moved back to her, his socks whispering across the dirty floor. It had grown chillier in the room, but he didn’t care. Not a lick.

She leaned on one elbow watching him—her face a little less sad, her smile a little less haunted. “Always prepared, I see.”

“My dad wouldn’t let me join the boy scouts,” he said. “But I read the handbook.” He returned to her, pressing himself back against her and kissing her whiskey-tainted lips.

“Wouldn’t let you?”

“Nope. Said I quit things too often.”

She shook her head. “Stupid,” she said. “I think kids should be allowed to explore and decide.”

He pushed her red-red bangs off her face and kissed her forehead. “Brilliant plan.” Maddox ground his cock against her, feeling the bite of the thick seam of her jeans. He imagined her, hot and wet and flushed beneath. His cock ached with the thought of her. With the idea of being with someone. Especially, this oddball, forthright, sensitive woman.

He’d never have given her a second glance in a bar. The whole dark clothes, bright hair, sad look…and she probably wouldn’t have even given him a first glance. On the outside they didn’t work. Not at all. On the inside, it was like finding a kindred spirit. A shadow the exact  same shape, darkness and density as himself.

She pushed his shoulders back, raised herself up slightly, and tugged her tee over her head. Beneath it, she wore a plain white bra with just a hint of lace along the tops of the cups, and he thought it was possibly the sexiest undergarment he’d ever seen. Simply because it was on her.

He worked the front clasp, and when it parted, he pushed back the cups revealing small, pert breasts with pale pink nipples. He stared at her for a moment, mesmerized by the small caramel colored freckles that dotted her chest. When he saw her take a shuddery breath, he shook his head and sighed. “You’re gorgeous, you know?”

Before she could answer, he sucked one of Olyvia’s nipples into his mouth. He swirled his tongue, feeling the soft skin pebble. He sucked and sucked again, and when she started to tremble he gently used his teeth. Her body arched up to meet his, her fingers tangled in his hair.

 

Buy Haunted Here:

Excessica

Amazon US

Amazon UK

All Romance Ebooks 

 

About Sommer:

Sommer Marsden has been called “…one of the top storytellers in the erotica genre” (Violet Blue), “Unapologetic” (Alison Tyler) and “…the whirling dervish of erotica” (Craig J. Sorensen).

Her erotic novels include Restricted Release, Restless Spirit, Learning to Drown, and Boys Next Door. Sommer currently writes erotica and erotic romance for Xcite Books, HarperCollins Mischief, Excessica, Pretty Things Press and Resplendence Publishing. The wine-swigging, dachshund-owning, wannabe-runner lives in a little house in a little town near Baltimore, Maryland. Her fiction runs the gamut from bondage to zombies to humor.

Sommer’s short works can be found in well over a hundred and twenty-five(and counting) erotic anthologies. Her short stories have also been included numerous adult and romance magazines–both in print and online.

Visit Sommer at Unapologetic Fiction by visiting http://sommermarsden.blogspot.com or find her on social media.

 

 

Heroes Old and New: Looking For Charlotte by Jennifer Young (@jynovelist)

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tourbutton_lookingforcharlotteLooking For Charlotte is, at heart, a romantic novel in that it’s a novel about love. But that comes with qualifications, because it isn’t just about romantic love, or about sexual love. It’s about all sorts of love — sex and romance come into it, but so does the love of a mother for her children, of one human being for another when they’re strangers to one another.

But although it may trip out of one genre and into another when the time is right, Looking For Charlotte has the things that all romantic novels have — a hero and a heroine. In fact, reader, aren’t you lucky, because you have not one but two of each, a lead and a support.

It’s the heroes I’m talking about today. Let me introduce our main man first up. He isn’t your typical hero. His name is Philip. He’s in his fifties, a solicitor with the driest sense of humour, handsome (in a mid-fifties kind of way). He loves our heroine, Flora — but there’s a problem and that’s his wife. And the problem is that although he loves Flora he loves his wife, too, and his wife has been dead for twenty years.

Enter our supporting hero, the appropriately-named Archie Fortune. Archie is also a solicitor, though a couple of decades younger than Philip and without the emotional baggage. He’s much more of a conventional hero but he has problems of his own, because he falls in love with our supporting heroine, Suzanne and she is the one with the baggage. More specifically, Suzanne’s recent past involves a dead husband and the daughter he murdered before his suicide — so how can she ever love again?

So there are two love stories going on here; Flora and Philip, Suzanne and Archie. There’s an old love story (if I may call it that) and a young love story. Because young people aren’t the only ones to fall in love and (as someone once said) not all heroes wear capes.

I wonder sometimes if there’s a risk involved in writing love stories that are a little out of the ordinary; but I don’t regret it in the least. Most of my romantic plots are about first love, or at least first real love; but in Looking For Charlotte all but one of the main protagonists have long and/or never-to-be-forgotten stories behind them.

Can Philip put his saintly, beloved, dead wife, Joanne, behind him or will she come between him and Flora, whose obsessive search for little lost Charlotte frustrates and unnerves him? And is Archie, unencumbered by the traumas of any serious relationship that’s failed, sufficiently sensitive to overcome Suzanne’s suspicions and teach her to trust again?

Two heroes, then, one traditional (“Well, there was no question that she’d picked the handsome one”), one less so (“He hadn’t always been old-fashioned. Time moved on and some people stayed behind. Sometimes it suited them”). They both face a challenge. Will they both succeed?

 

Excerpt

‘I was married in June.  It’s supposed to be lucky, June. We had the full works. Marquee, ceilidh band, the lot.’ Over the years she’d tried to forget about it, but suddenly it surged up in her mind — dappled sunshine, rose-petal confetti, flower girls, laughter. Lucky horseshoes.

‘Jo and I married in a church on Loch Lomondside. Reception in a local hotel. We even had the view down to the water, just like this. It had snowed the day before. And there was a moon. Gorgeous. ’

She could see that he was just as reluctant to recall the details. Their weddings had been a long time ago. ‘How we must both have changed.’

‘Change happens to everyone in the end. It’s just that it comes to some of us sooner than others.’

‘Yes. Think of poor Suzanne Beauchamp.’

The silence persisted. They moved along the terrace a little way, isolating themselves from the clustered smokers, breath and cigarette-smoke mingling to make a fog of the night air.

‘Actually,’ said Philip, after a moment, ‘I wanted to talk to you about that.’

‘About what?’

‘Suzanne Beauchamp. Though I know this isn’t the time or the place. But you mentioned it.’

‘Go on.’ Of course it was the right time, the right place. It was because of the drink and because of the memories and because it showed he cared.

‘You aren’t going to find that girl.’

‘I might. Charlotte.’ She has a name. She narrowed her lips, her eyes, not in a scowl but in determination.

‘Flora, she’s dead. She could be buried anywhere. You’re chasing some ridiculous shadow for reasons of your own. You’re letting it take over your life.’

‘I’m not.’

‘You are. I never see you. You’re always out. You’re always tired. It’s making you unhappy.’

‘It isn’t.’ No, it isn’t that.

‘And at the end of the day you won’t find her.’

‘She has to be somewhere.’

‘She does, but you don’t know where. And you won’t find out. How can you? We don’t even know if the clues on his letter were right. He could just have dumped her in a loch somewhere and made up the rest.’

‘He might. Or he might not.’ Flora stared out at the nearest thing to stare at, a few straggly shrub branches, iced and still. If you want to see me you could come with me when I look. He would laugh if she said that, or worse, shrug his shoulders and look away.

‘I think you should drop it before you make a fool of yourself.’ Then, after the silence he said, ‘Sorry. Wrong time, wrong place.’

 

Looking For Charlotte by Jennifer YoungBlurb

Divorced and lonely, Flora Wilson is distraught when she hears news of the death of little Charlotte Anderson. Charlotte’s father killed her and then himself, and although he left a letter with clues to her grave, his two-year-old daughter still hasn’t been found. Convinced that she failed her own children, now grown up and seldom at home, Flora embarks on a quest to find Charlotte’s body to give the child’s mother closure, believing that by doing so she can somehow atone for her own failings.

As she hunts in winter through the remote moors of the Scottish Highlands, her obsession comes to challenge the very fabric of her life — her job, her friendship with her colleague Philip Metcalfe, and her relationships with her three children.

Tirgearr Publishing: http://tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Young_Jennifer/looking-for-charlotte.htm

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1D7pNY6

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1JmAwBR

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/526032?ref=cw1985

 

Author bio

I live in Edinburgh and I write romance and contemporary women’s fiction. I’ve been writing all my life and my first book was published in February 2014, though I’ve had short stories published before then. The thing that runs through all my writing is an interest in the world around me. I love travel and geography and the locations of my stories is always important to me. And of course I love reading — anything and everything.

Links

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jenniferyoungauthor

Twitter: @JYnovelist

Website: http://www.jenniferyoungauthor.com/

 

GIVEAWAY!

Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/jennifer-young-2/

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The Mount Gossip Rita Holly Style

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With The Mount Box Set now available for your reading enjoyment, I thought it would be a good time to share with
you an interview I had last winter with Rita Holly, whom I met in London to pick her brain about the latest gossip from Vegas with Elsa Crane and Nick Chase. I like to revisit my interviews and days out with my characters from time to time. I find it’s like time spent with good friends, and it’s always my chance to get to know them better. I never know what I’ll find about them. I hope you enjoy!
*****

Mount 3 book bundle - CopyI seldom come into London by car, but when someone else is doing the driving, in a shiny black limo sent by Rita Holly to bring me from Surrey for our interview at The Mount in style, I take time to enjoy the view along the Thames as we head in along the A3. When we arrive, I’m surprised to be met by Alex deliciously sweaty and glistening after an early morning dance lesson. He leads me back to one of the private dining rooms. The rest of the place is deserted at this our.  I find Rita waiting for me. She has ordered tea and fresh scones, which smell heavenly as she greets me with a hug and pours the tea.

Once the tea is poured and the scones are buttered, I take time to enjoy a delicious mouthful, and then I can’t hold back my curiosity any longer.

KD: Rita, thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to give me the skinny on Mount Vegas. I have it on good authority that you know what Elsa Crane and her crew – especially Nick Chase — are up to. BTW, you look a little tired, are you alright?

RH: I’m fine, KD. I was just up in the wee hours Skyping with Elsa Crane. Quite a time difference between London and Vegas, you know? Elsa is taking Mount Vegas on a path that’s totally new in the history of The Mount, and it’s exciting to watch (offers a wicked little laugh) no pun intended.

KD: You mean the voyeurism thing? I noticed that the Mount Vegas business card says Where there’s always a room with a view.

RH: (Adds a big spoonful of clotted cream and some raspberry jam to her scone, and makes an orgasmic moan at her first bite) I know, I know, cream tea is not a breakfast treat, but really, who can resist? Anyway, yeah, Mount Vegas. With all those big windows in high rise hotels crammed together along the Strip, who wouldn’t want to have a little look-see at what the neighbours in the room across the street are getting up to. And how cool would it be if those neighbours are naked and writhing out your hottest fantasy, KD.

KD: With you watching through a scope?’

RH: Exactly!(She shoves the clotted cream in my direction and I indulge too. She’s such a bad influence.) Elsa and her team just take advantage of the situation. Any fantasy you want, you can view. It’s not like a porn film. It’s like you just happened to catch the couple across the way inviting the hotel maid into the action, or a couple of women sneaking into the pool after dark for a little touchy feely – whatever your fantasy, Elsa and her team can make it happen.

KD: Wow! Sounds really hot! But it also sounds complicated. How does Elsa manage it?

Holly cover FINAL9781907761270_FCRH: Her team’s very competent and sexy as hell. They go into hotel rooms, casinos, limos, whatever the client wants to watch. If clients want a dungeon scene, they can have it, if they want a pool scene, they can have it. Elsa even had a couple of her team go at it in the disappearing closet of a famous magician.

No matter what the fantasy, they can make it happen, and the result is always a satisfied customer. Plus, I think the team actually enjoy what they do. They get to have lots of sex in lots of kinky places, and most of them find it really hot being watched by strangers.

(Rita refills my teacup and I watch as Alex coaches Rita’s friend Kate in a very close tango that could very easily devolve into something a whole lot naughtier. I return my attention to Rita when she offers me the milk, along with a conspiratorial smile.)

I’ll let you in on a little secret; Elsa’s working on a fantasy for one of her regular customers – it’s one of those billionaire and virgin fantasies. She says she gets a lot of those since Fifty Shades of Grey. Anyway, she’s asked Edward and me to play the lead roles. We can’t wait! It’s a trip to Vegas and a chance to unleash our inner exhibitionists. Plus it’ll give me a chance to pump Elsa about what’s going on between her and her newest team member.

KD: I’d heard rumours that Elsa and her team had taken on a new member, though it sounds like not everyone’s convinced he can do the job.

RH: I have to admit, KD, (She waves her teaspoon at me) I’m really intrigues by what’s happening. Nick Chase is a limo driver, well he owns a limo service, actually. Elsa tells me, he picked up her girl, Tanya Povic at a bar. Apparently he’s the last person you’d ever expect to pick up a chick at a bar, but he’d had a really bad day. He had no idea that sex with Tanya would put her in breach of her contract, and he felt so bad about Tanya losing her job and the loss of the bonus she’d have had if she’d finished the last two months of her contract, that he volunteered to finish it for her.

KD: Seriously? Why would he do that? Does he have any idea what he’s getting himself into? (The dance floor erupts in Fulfilling the Contracta wave of giggles, but Rita has my full attention with this little bit of gossip)

RH: I doubt it, and frankly I’m surprised Elsa’s allowing him to fill in for Tanya. He’s a really nice guy. He’s definitely not a one-night stander. A bit conservative, if you know what I mean.

KD: Doesn’t sound like playing an exhibitionist in front of the scopes of Mount Vegas clients is the job for him then. What was Elsa thinking hiring him? What was Nick thinking? Do you suppose he’s fallen for Tanya?

RH: I think it’s actually Elsa he’s got the hots for. It surprises me that she can’t see that, but then again, a little romance would do the woman good. She can be a real hard ass.

KD: Do you think Nick Chase can do the job and fulfill the contract for Tanya?

RH: I don’t know, but I have every intention of finding out. Pagan – he’s Elsa’s resident nerd – he can hook me up electronically for virtual ringside seats of Nick Chase’s debut, and I plan to take full advantage. I really want a look at the man’s assets, if you know what I mean. (We have a laugh and pile more clotted cream and jam on fresh scones)

KD: Do you think you could get Pagan to hook me up to so I could watch? I’m dying to see Nick Chase in action.

RH: No worries! I’ll talk to him. I’ll have him to connect your readers too so they can have a peek.

KD: Thanks, Rita. That’d be great! Do you think he’ll be performing with Elsa?

RH: Oh I think there’ll be quite a performance with him and Elsa. Though I doubt if it’ll be for the eyes of the clients. (Looks down at her watch and inhales the rest of her tea) Goodness look at the time. I’ve gotta run. Edward and I are meeting Leo out at the Zoo. He has a new Pet he wants us to meet. But stay and finish your tea. Alex says he has time if you want to work in a dance lesson, than the driver will take you back home.

To Rome with LustKD: (We both stand and she gives me another hug) Thanks for breakfast, Rita. And thanks for giving us the skinny on Nick and Elsa over at Mount Vegas.

See more of Rita Holly in books one and two and three of The Mount series – The Initiation of Ms Holly and Fulfilling the Contract and To Rome with Lust

The Mount Series is not available in its entirety as a Box Set. Triple the excitement, triple the fun!

 

Excerpts from Rita Holly’s interview first appeared on Erzabet Bishop’s blog 17 February 2014.

Sexy Just Got Rich Now Available in Print!

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BBBillionaires

 

If you’re like me, you love your kindle, love your eReader, in fact you’re practically joined at the hip with it. As I get ready to make my yearly visit to my sister in the States, I’m making sure my eReader is well-stocked with luscious reading — including a copy of Sexy Just Got Rich. But I’d be the first to admit, like most people I still LOVE the feel, the smell, the sight of a real book. All us Brit Babes do, and with that in mind, we’re very happy to offer our latest anthology, Sexy Just Got Rich, in print for the real book lover in all of us.

 

Sexy Just Got Rich Blurb:

Billionaires have it all but that doesn’t mean they don’t have to work hard to get what their hearts desire. In this brand
new anthology of erotic BDSM stories the Brit Babes offer heroes and heroines who aren’t shy about taking what they want. From farmyards to luxury penthouses, wealth is all about sating needs, connecting souls and taking pleasure to new highs. Whether you’re looking for a coffee break read or something longer to curl up in bed with, you’ll find something to suit your needs in Sexy Just Got Rich.

Buy your Print Version of Sexy Just Got Rich Here:sexyjustgotrich cover

Amazon UK

Amazon US

Get a Copy of Sexy Just Got Rich for your eReader:

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
All Romance eBooks
Barnes & Noble
iBooks UK
iBooks US
Kobo
Smashwords

Here’s a little teaser from my story, Buying the Farm. Enjoy!

Buying the Farm Blurb: 

Cassie Fielding is at her wits end trying to save the family farm from bankruptcy after her father’s illness. But when
Cassie returns from university, she finds that, in spite of their financial situation, her father has hired the mysterious, Simon Dennis to help run the place. As Cassie and the new hired hand experience an unprecedented heat wave of lust, Cassie comes to suspects that her father and Simon may be in cahoots with their own plan to save the farm, and the whole scheme depends on her.

Excerpt:

She dreamed of the hired hand that night. In her dreams, she met him in the woods below the barn. He was naked and wild like some animal that belonged there in the shadow of the oaks and hickory trees, and he had taken her without a word, on her hands and knees in the leaf litter, while she forced her bottom up and opened her legs enough for him to see that she was ready, that her need matched his own. He took her, hard and fierce, forcing the breath from her lungs, biting and kneading and growling. And she had growled back. Her nails had scored his ass in an effort to get him still deeper and the sound they’d made when they came together had startled the birds from their roosting places and raised the hackles of the night prowling beasts. And then he had lifted her into his arms, carried her into the cabin and laid her down on his bed. To her total surprise, that’s where she woke. Blinking, and wiping sleep from her eyes, she found herself still dressed, but tucked up nicely in the cabin, in the bed of the new hired hand, who was nowhere be to be found, but his bed and his room had that delicious smell of a virile male at his prime.

*****

 

Cassie had hurried out the door and made a run for the house, too embarrassed to linger lest the man return. Of course her father was out doing the morning chores. She’d had a quick shower and returned to the ham and eggs breakfast Joanie shoved at her. Joanie was a family friend who had been helping out when she could since Merrill Fielding’s heart attack. ‘Your dad knows you’re here. Simon told him he found you asleep under the oak trees. He figured you’d planned to overnight in the cabin, not realizing it was occupied. He tucked you into his bed and slept in the barn.’

Well that explained a lot, Cassie thought, then she fought back a blush that felt like it would roast her cheeks off. That also meant that the man had known she was there. Christ! Had he known she’d watched him? Known what she was doing? ‘Simon?’ she asked, shoveling in her breakfast with her head down so Joanie couldn’t see the blush.

‘Simon Dennis. That’s his name.’ Joanie scrubbed at the window above the sink as though it had offended her somehow. ‘From Chicago, I hear. Had some high finance job there. Don’t know why he gave it up to play farmer, but from what I hear,’ she turned back to Cassie to impart the latest, ‘he definitely doesn’t need the money.’ She inspected her reflection in the glass.

‘Advert10302697_501578709969443_5836215139193579296_nNice that someone can afford to play farmer,’ Cassie growled.

‘Apparently he told your father he’d work for room and board. Course your father’d never allow that. He insisted on paying. Still, I think the two of them are up to something.’ Joanie finished the window, then grabbed up Cassie’s empty plate and refill her iced tea glass in one exquisite example of the multi-tasking the woman was so good at. ‘He’s a looker, I’ll say that for him, and polite. I don’t think he’s ever done farm work before. Had some serious blisters his first week or so, but Merrill says he’s a fast learner and seems to have quite a good understanding of a working farm in spite of being a city boy.’

Suddenly Cassie’s insides turned to ice. What if he was thinking of buying Fielding Farm? Christ, farms all over the Midwest were being bought up by big corporations. The independent farmer was going the way of the Dodo bird. Well if he was thinking about buying them out, she’d have a thing or two to say about that. It was her farm, her home. And she wasn’t about to deed it over to some bored moneybags to whom it was just another business deal.

lily-harlemJoanie had left her with instructions on reheating the chicken potpie that she’d put in the refrigerator and Cassie was just about to head into the garden when the kitchen door blew open and her father practically dragged her from the chair into a bear hug. ‘Cassie-girl! You snuck in on me last night. What a great surprise to wake up and find my girl back home! I missed you darlin’’ He hugged her again.

She noticed immediately he felt much stronger than he had before. ‘I missed you too, Daddy.’ He looked better too, she thought. Hopefully he was well on the mend, but all the worrying about paying the bills certainly couldn’t be helping much.

She smiled and nodded out the window to the bedraggled veg patch. ‘I noticed you’ve got a bumper crop of weeds this year. I was just about to head out and see if I could harvest some of them for you.’

kay jaybee subclubJust then Simon Dennis stepped through the door, and damn if he didn’t look even better in sunlight than he did in moonlight. He was dressed in a well-sweated tee shirt and faded jeans, which he filled out nicely, and his smile was positively edible.

‘Not just yet, Cassie.’ Her dad nodded Simon in. ‘I suspect Joanie’s already told you all about Simon here. Knowing her, she probably knows more about him than he knows about himself, but this is the man in the flesh, who I understand was kind enough to give you his bed last night.’ If her blush mirrored Simon’s then her father surely had to suspect that it wasn’t as straight forward as that.

Simon’s eyes were dark green, she noticed, and his hair was almost, but not quite black. There was a smattering of freckles across his nose from hours spent in the intense sun, though from the looks of the rest of him, his complexion was just that shade of olive that tanned deliciously rather than burned.

kd grace subclubSimon offered her a well-calloused hand. The firmness of his grip made her think of how good it must have felt wrapped around his cock last night, which in turn made her wonder how the hell she’d ended up in his bed. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she croaked, trying not to blush, trying not to think about places on her own body where his hand would feel good. Christ! She SO didn’t need to think about that with her dad standing right there between them.

Her father shifted nervously from foot to foot, and she suddenly realized that maybe her father did know, maybe her father was about to fire Simon. Oh God, she hoped not, because it was all her fault, staying to watch the man instead of leaving him to his private moment. But then again, they couldn’t afford Simon anyway, could they? Worse yet, what if her father had decided to sell out to Simon? ‘Cassie.’ Her father’s voice got her attention. ‘Sit lexie baysubclubdown, sweetie. And Simon,’ he nodded to the other side of the kitchen table, then he sat down nervously at the head of the table as though he were afraid the chair might bite him in the ass.

‘Daddy? What’s going on?’ Her voice sounded small as her mind raced at all the possibilities – most of them not good news.

Her father squirmed in his chair and tugged at the collar of his shirt. ‘Well, Cassie, I know how worried you’ve been about the financial situation at Fielding Farm, and hell, I’m an old man. I could live wherever as long as there was a roof over my head, but this is your home, your inheritance and I know that it matters to you that it’s been in the family for so long. So I’ve been racking my brain and racking my brain, and then I met Simon.’ He offered lucy felthouse Subclubthe man a quick jerk of a smile, then turned his nervous attention back to Cassie and cleared his throat. ‘Well, as I said, I’m sure Joanie has told you that our Simon here is a financial wizard.’ Simon didn’t smile at the compliment. If anything he seemed unhappy about it. ‘And we … Simon and I … put our heads together and came up with a plan guaranteed to save the farm.’

‘Really?’ Cassie scooted forward in her chair, giving both man a quick glance. ‘What exactly did you have in mind?’ Her gaze settled on Simon, who seemed icy calm and the expression on his face, the sudden squaring of his shoulders made him look like he belonged in a conference room in front of a board of directors, in spite of his jeans and t-shirt.

tabitha rayne subclubFirst he glanced at her father and then turned his lovely green eyes on her. ‘A deal,’ he said. She could smell that same deep earth and ozone scent beneath the scent of a grassy field. It was the same scent she’d smelled in the cabin, in his bed.

‘A deal?’

Her father cleared his throat and tugged at his shirt again.

‘What sort of deal?’

As Simon Dennis leaned over the table, the farmhand was completely transformed into the CEO. ‘It’s a pretty simple deal really, Cassie. You marry me and save Fielding Farm.’

victoria blisse Subclub
The air in the room suddenly felt thick and congealed. The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall and the roar of blood in her ears. Both men held her gaze while she made several fish gasps.

It was a damn good thing she was sitting, or she was sure her knees would have given beneath her. But she took her time answering him, not because she was playing the game. Hell, she didn’t even know there was a game until this minute. No, she took her time answering him because she had to wait until she could be sure she could breathe without suffocating, be sure she could speak without her voice trembling. ‘Is this an ultimatum?’ She managed.

Natalie Dae Subclub‘No. It’s just the best way to protect your interests and save the farm,’ he replied.

God the man was smooth. She gulped tea and found her voice again. ‘OK, I’m just mercenary enough to do that, but what’s in it for you? This isn’t Chicago. Under the best of circumstances Fielding Farm isn’t worth even one of your lower end business deals. And this isn’t even close to the best of circumstances.’

His jaw tightened until she was afraid he’d break teeth, and his lips thinned to a tight line. The muscles along his neck twitched. ‘I like it here.’

Before either of them could say anything else, her father cleared his throat with a sound like someone starting a lawn mower then shoved back his chair. ‘I’m going to let the two of you have space to talk, and then, Cassie, if you need to yell and scream at me, I’ll be down in my workshop.’

She didn’t try to stop him as he left. Her father, she knew she could handle. He was stubborn, but he was also a reasonable man. In truth, she really was mercenary enough to take Simon up on his offer, but she leaned over the table, once again calm, and said. ‘It’s pretty obvious what’s in this for me, Simon, but I need to know what’s in it for you? I SJWIT_1need to know that you’ve not got ulterior motives. Hell, you don’t even know me.’

‘As I said, I like it here. You have what I want, what I’ve always wanted. And,’ a blush worked its way up his tanned throat onto his cheeks. ‘I need a wife.’

She blinked. ‘You need a wife. Well, I’m sure a man like you can have your pick of nice trophy wives and debutants. Why me?’

‘My father’s already got several willing trophy wives and debutants picked out for me, and I don’t want any of them.’

‘So you’re marrying me to get your father off your ass.’

‘I’m marrying you so I can stay on your farm.’ He shrugged and offered her half a smile. ‘And to get my father off my ass.’

She studied him over the table. ‘What else do I need to know?’

He took a deep breath. ‘I’m the oldest and only son. My father wants me to take over the reins of Dennis Consolidated. I could do it, but I hate it, and frankly I’m not the best person for the job. I marry you, become a farmer. Dennis Consolidated gets the best possible CEO to lead them into the future, and dad gets over it. Happy ending.’

‘You’re really willing to marry someone you don’t even know to achieve that end?’

‘Oh I’m willing,’ he said, offering her a smile that was flat out scary. ‘Besides. I know you better than you think. Your father adores you, and I’ve been paying enough attention to know that he has good reason.’

She reached for her tea glass and finished it in one long gulp,’ spilling a good bit of it down the front of her shirt, and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘And will that be a marriage in name only or will it be a real marriage.’

He laughed out loud and his green eyes sparked bright emerald. ‘After last night, I hardly think the two of us could keep it platonic, Cassie.’

‘Just making sure.’ The butterflies danced low in her belly, and her nipples offered him a full salute in her slightly damp shirt. ‘And what about a pre-nup?’

‘I don’t need a pre-nup. Hell you can have whatever you want of mine. I don’t give a damn.’

This time it was her turn to laugh. ‘I was talking about me. I want a guarantee that if it doesn’t work out, if we’re not compatible, you won’t try to take Fielding Farm away from me.’

The look on his face was something between stunned and hurt, neither of which she really expected. For a long Keep Calm10350544_501578259969488_8488128928937746351_nmoment he said nothing, then, his gaze darkened, he reached across the table and squeezed her hand. ‘You have a lawyer draw it up and I’ll sign it. But I promise you, Cassie, I would never take Fielding Farm from you and your father.’

Strangely, she believed him. For a long moment, they sat in the silence of the kitchen, her heart hammering as though it would jump from her chest. He showed no signs of impatience, no signs of stress. He only sat holding her in his dark green gaze.

At last she found her voice. ‘All right. I’ll marry you. But if we’re gonna do it, we need to do it now and get it over with. I don’t have time for all the hoopla and planning for pulling off some swank wedding during the busy season.’

Simon offered her a quirk of a smile. ‘Your father told me you were a hopeless romantic.’