Tag Archives: Xcite books

Tamsin Flowers’ The Christmas Tattoo – Awash with the Seasonal Feel-Good Factor

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The Christmas TattooThere’s something about Christmas that gets to me. For 11 months of the year, I’m probably the least sentimental person you’ll meet and then, for the month of December, I transform into something soggy, sniveling and over-sentimental. Sit me down in front of Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye singing ‘We’ll follow the old man’ in White Christmas and I’m gone. James Stewart in It’s A Wonderful Life – pass the tissues! Show me a John Lewis Christmas ad and I’m welling up. It doesn’t take much.

So around Christmas, I like to read something with the feel-good factor. This is the time of year for happy endings – the snow falls in White Christmas; George Bailey is reunited with his family in It’s A Wonderful Life and the bear wakes up for Christmas Day in the commercial. Oops – just thinking about it is enough to make my eyes tear up. And I want the same from a book if I’m reading it December.

Anyway, when I decided to write a Christmas erotic romance, I wanted to capture some of that feel-good emotion that makes Christmas what it is. Of course, it’s not all plain sailing and my two main characters have plenty of obstacles standing in the way of true love – a curmudgeon of a father, an ex boyfriend who reappears, a pregnant business partner, jealousy, tears and fights. But I don’t think it’s too much of spoiler to give away that The Christmas Tattoo has a happy ending.

After all, I couldn’t do otherwise at this time of year, could I?

Tamsin

xxx

 

The Christmas Tattoo – blurb

When sexy red-head Bradie Clements comes home from Washington to nurse a broken heart and build bridges with her estranged father, she’s certainly not on the lookout for romance. After catching her boyfriend Kris in bed with her best friend and boss, all she wants to do is run and hide. But a chance encounter with local tattoo artist Colton Bassett leads to an unexpected appointment with his needle. Even though it’s cold outside, the temperature rises to boiling point as the two discover an irresistible attraction. But then Kris arrives on the scene to claim her back in time for his family Christmas and Bradie starts to remember what she saw in him. Tormented by jealousy and suspicion over Colton’s pregnant business partner, Bradie starts to wonder if her new romance is over before it’s begun…

 

Buy links

Available at Amazon.com, Amazon UK, Kobo, and Xcite Books.

 

Excerpt

Colt Bassett’s legs turned to water as he bent in low enough for his lips to brush against Bradie’s.  He’d kissed those lips once before, briefly, and he’d never forgotten how they’d tasted.  He’d dreamt of kissing them again a million times and now, when he thought the flame he’d been carrying for her for over a decade had at last gone out, she’d walked back into his life. Right into his studio, asking for a tattoo.  Her eyes asking for a kiss.

His lips brushed hers, tentative at first.  He’d made mistakes with her before but he knew he was reading the signals right this time; a decade of experience had taught him what to look for.  Her pupils were dilated, her lips parted and a little moist.  Her breathing uneven.  He put a hand along her jaw to hold her still as his mouth moved over hers and he sensed the subtle arching of her back and tilting of her head to give him better access.

Her kiss tasted immediately familiar, her lips as soft and yielding as he remembered.  He swallowed and wondered whether he dared plunge his tongue into her mouth.  The thought of it sent a spasm of lust up through his cock, had his heart pounding against his chest and his balls throbbing in his shorts.  He knew he was reaching the point of no return; either draw back or take things forward.  He tried to read Bradie’s expression but her eyes were shut.  When her hand snaked up around the back of his neck, he recognized an invitation to continue, so he slowly traced the line of her lips with the tip of his tongue.

She rewarded him with a soft mewl from deep within her throat; she wanted this as much as he did.  Her mouth opened and then her tongue pressed against his, pushing into his mouth and intensifying his need to take things further.  She tasted of sweet coffee and he pushed back against her to find his way into her mouth; their tongues slipping past each other to explore at leisure.  Her back arched more and he gripped the back of her neck to pull her in against him.  Soft breasts touched his chest as her jacket fell open; he could feel her nipples pebbling hard through the thin fabric of her blouse.  He raised his other hand and brought it up to the side of her breast…

A bell rang.  A door slammed.

Fuck!  Someone had come into the shop.

“Colt?  Are you back there?”

Shit, Saskia! 

 

Tamsin FlowersTamsin Flowers

Tamsin Flowers loves to write light-hearted erotica, often with a twist in the tail/tale and a sense of fun.  In the words of one reviewer, ‘Ms Flowers has a way of describing sexual tension that forces itself upon your own body.’ Her stories have appeared in a wide variety of anthologies and she is now graduating to novellas, for publishers including Cleis Press, Xcite Books, Secret Cravings and Totally Bound. This year, she entered NaNoWriMo, with the intention of penning her magnum opus in the very near future.  In the meantime, like most erotica writers, she finds herself working on at least ten stories at once: while she figures out whose leg belongs in which story, you can find out more about her at Tamsin’s Superotica or Tamsin Flowers.

The Extraordinary Within the Ordinary

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Many thanks to the lovely KD Grace for having me over today to discuss sex out of the ordinary.

Demelza Hart 2Where’s the most unexpected place you’ve ever done it? On a train? Aeroplane bathroom? Broom cupboard at work? All popular fantasies.

What is it about sex in mundane, everyday places that turns us on so much? After all, in reality, negotiating the coming together of body parts amongst cramped spaces, wash basins, mops and general daily detritus is a pretty tricky business. It’s certainly not done for the glamour of the location.

No, it’s the overwhelming need which compels us to do it in these places, the engulfing passion which overrides all else: sense, practicality and safety. These places may be entirely ordinary, but if you introduce the extraordinary into them – sex – the danger element makes the excitement of it so much more thrilling. Not only do you risk mistaking a broom handle for something else entirely, you also risk discovery. The exhibitionist in you lurks, daring you on.

Allow me to introduce Tara.

Demelza Hart 3Tara seeks the extraordinary within the ordinary, and in The Suit she’s met someone who can deliver. The Suit – nameless and effortlessly gorgeous – takes the mundane and, by introducing sex, turns it into something entirely irresistible.

Tara developed her taste for this – and for him – on that icon of routine and predictability, the London Underground. We first met her in my short ‘Come Underground’ (in Xcite’s Watching Me, Watching You and Your Ultimate Fantasy anthologies). On that occasion, she spent a trip on the Central Line ably entertained by five anonymous men, one of whom is The Suit. They weren’t supposed to see each other again.

But they do.

In Spontaneous (Book One of the Suited to You trilogy), we meet Tara as she contacts The Suit again. They continue where they left off.

In this extract, The Suit has arranged to meet Tara, telling her he’s going to ‘take her shopping’. With visions of Bond Street in mind, the supermarket where his chauffeur actually drops her isn’t quite what she’d envisaged, but The Suit always delivers.

-xOx-

I paced dejectedly along to the bright lights of the supermarket and strode morosely through the gaping doors. The glare from the store hurt my eyes and the beeping of the checkouts immediately grated on me. This had better bloody be good. I scanned the entrance for signs of The Suit, but could see nothing. Instinctively, I picked up a basket and made my way into the store. It was nearly empty. A few late-night shoppers were stocking up, Demelza Hartbut the aisles were largely deserted save for a few shelf stackers. I glanced around the magazines and cards. No sign. I made my way through homeware and clothing. Nothing. Was he even here?

 I threw a tube of toothpaste into the basket. I’d nearly run out; I may as well make the most of my time here. Then I turned into the broad expanse of the fruit and vegetable aisles. There he stood, still in his suit, studying an apple carefully before replacing it on the pile. I walked over.

‘Out of milk, are you?’ I’d intended to sound tetchy and succeeded. He turned as coolly as ever, his eyes quickly taking in my clothes and appearance.

‘Hello.’ He looked back to the apples. ‘Granny Smith or Pink Lady?’

‘Definitely Pink Lady.’

He took a few, put them in his basket, and moved on. I followed.

‘Why are we here?’

‘It’s an interesting environment.’

‘Is it?’ I wasn’t convinced.

‘I like the mundanity of it. I like the idea of the extraordinary concealed within the ordinary.’

‘And where is the extraordinary? I don’t see it.’

He didn’t answer. His Duchamp tie hung down when he bent over to look at things. I wanted to grab it, tug him round, and have him.

‘So what happens now? Are you going to fuck me with a cucumber?’

He at last deigned to look at me, his mouth rising into a slight smile. ‘Would you like that?’

I shrugged. ‘Maybe. But only if they’re Class One organic cucumbers.’

He glanced above him at a CCTV camera. ‘We’re too visible here. It might be tricky.’

‘I wasn’t serious!’ I added.

‘Why not?’

-xOx-

The cucumbers remain where they are, but The Suit, Tara and another (more than) willing participant go on to take plentiful advantage of the BOGOF deals. Like The Suit says, it’s always worth seeking the extraordinary within the ordinary.

Come and say hello to Demelza on Facebook, Twitter or at her blog. She’d love to get to know you.

Spontaneous (Book One in the Suited to You trilogy) is available now, as is Watching Me, Watching You and Your Ultimate Fantasy (containing ‘Come Underground’).

Buy Spontaneous Here:

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

 

L.C. Wilkinson’s Hot New Novel, All of Me, is A Part of Her

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The Story Behind The Story

It’s a question a lot of authors get asked: How did you come to write the story; what was your inspiration? For me, the interesting thing is that whatever the inspiration, once the story has been set in motion it more often than not takes on a life of its own and the finished narrative can be quite different to the original idea. The roots are there, if you dig deep enough, but the tree itself has a different canopy to one first imagined. Here’s my attempt to unearth the seeds of All of Me.

In the late 1990s, when I worked as an actress, I did a tour of Italy. While it wasn’t the high point of my acting career (though career makes it sound grander than it actually was) it was a fantastic and magical experience. Later, when children came along and I’d moved into writing words for a living rather than saying them on stage, friends and colleagues often said I should write about my time in Italy. It would make a great story, they said. I wasn’t convinced. Location has always been important in my work – it affects tone, pace, rhythm, language – but in itself it doesn’t a story make. But showbiz people are interesting; they tend towards the dramatic (unsurprisingly), so whilst I didn’t water this narrative seed, I didn’t dig it up either, to continue the metaphor.

I wrote other stuff: short stories, flash fiction, novels. Alongside fiction, raising my boys and a part-time job in education, I work as an editor, freelance and for Cornerstones Literary Consultancy. Last year, I edited some MSs described as erotic romance and thought that I’d like to have a go at writing in the genre myself. A female character, an actress – one who would go on to become Flick Burrows – had been rattling around my imagination for some time. She was successful – a soap opera star – and driven. An unconventional beauty from a difficult, disadvantaged childhood, she owed her success to hard work and determination. And she was no ingénue.

Because of my background, I understand how tough it can be for actresses facing 40 and I started wondering how challenging it might be if a younger, much younger, man was interested in Flick. On the one hand, the industry is telling her she’s past it; her leading lady days are numbered and there’s a wilderness period before one is old enough to play the ‘hag’; on the other hand, a young man – a rich, clever, sexy man – is telling her she is hot, fascinating and utterly irresistible. Putting my leading lady in a glass house, via her career, would exacerbate the sense of fading desirability that many women feel approaching middle age. The sense that they need to carve out a new role for themselves. It was at this point the Italian backdrop appeared on the stage that was becoming All of Me. In another country – Flick is a Londoner – she is free to reinvent herself, behave atypically and the glamour, beauty, and let’s face it, sheer sexiness of Italy was perfect.

All of MeThe theatrical tour provides the structure of the novel; the different locations and theatres marking the progression of the tour and of Flick and Orlando’s relationship. And because of my own life experience I needed to do little research on the world of the theatre and many areas of Italy, though I had to do some, of course, because of the passage of time. The real life tour did begin in Milan, before moving south to Sicily and working its way up the boot of Italy before finishing in Sardinia. However, because fiction is life without the dull bits (the quote is attributed to legendary film maker Alfred Hitchcock [replacing fiction with drama], or Clive James depending on where you look) the tour in All of Me visits many more glamorous locations than I did – Venice, Verona, Florence, for example – and takes place principally in the summertime (as opposed to the grimmer winter months). And the characters and their dilemmas are far removed from my own.

Flick’s dark past was inspired by so many people’s stories. Sadly, we hear similar tales almost every day on the news and in the papers. Similarly Orlando’s, though perhaps to a lesser degree than Flick’s. And once I knew Flick’s desires and demons, and I’d set the stage, the story near enough wrote itself. The origins date back 15 years, but All of Me was written quickly; at least by my standards. It took 11 weeks. Other works have taken two years. It is perhaps unfashionable to say this, but it is the truth. I had such fun writing Flick and Orlando’s story that for a while I thought it couldn’t be any good. I only hope that readers enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Excerpt for All of Me:

 Mr Hot led me through to a brightly lit room, the light scorching my eyes after near darkness. He pulled up a wooden stool and gestured for me to sit. I did as I was instructed. Row upon row of bottles of oil, condiments, herbs and spices lined shelves that covered an entire wall. It was a store cupboard, and the strip lighting was harsh; every fine line, blemish and open pore would be visible. Inwardly, I cursed my lack of foundation once more. I felt exposed, stripped right down, and vulnerable. I shielded my eyes, allowing my hand to drop low enough to conceal most of my face.

‘Better here, fewer people. Can I get you a drink? Cup of tea?’ he said.

‘Something stronger might be better.’ I attempted to cover my embarrassment with humour. He did not laugh, or even smile. ‘Water would be great. Wouldn’t do to be seen drunk. Imagine what they’d make of that,’ I added quickly.

Through a gap in my fingers I watched him push open swing doors with considerable force and sashay out, revealing the bustle of a hectic lunchtime kitchen; he barked out an instruction in a language I couldn’t quite place. Italian probably, possibly Spanish. This was no ordinary waiter in more ways than one. He returned moments later.

Despite his blistering good looks, or maybe because of them, I wanted to get the hell out of there; I gulped down the water. ‘Thank you. Can you show me the other way out now please?’

‘It’s not too soon?’

‘I have to be somewhere.’

At the exit, he paused and looked into my eyes, the hazel fading to black as his pupils dilated. He ran his tongue over those sensual lips. I couldn’t breathe and for a moment I thought I might pass out. The attraction I’d felt was mutual; he was devouring me with his gaze; his desire was palpable. Had it been a movie, or an episode of the cheap drama I’d been in, we’d have thrown ourselves at each other, kissed passionately, before being interrupted by an angry chef brandishing a meat knife. I coughed; it broke the spell.

He leant forward to grab the door handle, the bouquet of his aftershave mingling with a distinct, very masculine aroma. I was soooo tempted, but this was real life, and my personal life was enough of a mess. He opened the door, leant forward to look up and down the street before turning back to me and nodding that it was clear. Neither of us knew what to say. I had no idea if he knew, understood, or even cared why the press were hounding me, and I wasn’t inclined to explain.

I held out my hand. ‘Thank you. You saved my life.’

He took my hand, but rather than shaking it, as I had intended, he lifted it to his mouth and kissed the back. A charge raced up my arm, exploding in my mouth and groin. ‘It was nothing. Anyone would have done the same.’

‘Thanks anyway,’ I gasped. I had to get out of there, and quick. My internal red light was flashing: danger, danger, danger.

I stepped into the street and, unsure which direction to take, turned right and walked; the skin on my hand still thrumming from the touch of his lips. I wanted to look back, and tried desperately to resist the urge. After a few metres, I gave up and turned my head. There was no sign of him.

Blurb: Actress Flick Burrow’s career is in the doldrums. Dumped by long-term boyfriend at the altar and nudging forty she escapes to Italy touring with a theatrical company.

Orlando Locatelli is a successful businessman. He’s rich, clever and drop-dead gorgeous.

When the two meet, the attraction is instant. But Orlando is 15 years Flick’s junior; he’s the controlling director’s son; his stepmother is possessive and destructive. He’s trouble and he’s determined to have her.

Sparks fly when a tour romance turns into something altogether more dangerous, threatening to reveal pasts, and desires, both lovers are keen to bury.

All of Me is published by Xcite in paperback and e-book formats.

You can buy All of Me here:

Amazon.co.uk

Ebook

Print

Amazon.com

eBook

Print

Xcite Books

eBook

Print

Laura L C Wlikinsonone eyeAbout L.C.:

L.C. grew up in north Wales and now she lives by the sea in Brighton with three fellas (her ginger sons and her husband) and a cat called Sheila. After many years working as a journalist, copywriter and editor of hagsharlotsheroines.com, she writes fiction and works part-time as an editor for Cornerstones Literary Consultancy. All of Me is her first romance for Xcite. She hopes that it is the first of many.

To find out more about L. C. visit her site – www.lcwilkinson.com – for news and freebies. Or follow her on Twitter: @ScorpioScribble You’ll also find her GoodReads, and she loves to hear from readers and other writers so do get in touch.

The Adventures of Ms Holly Continue

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Holly cover FINAL9781907761270_FCIt’s the end of an era in a lot of ways. My firstborn, The Initiation of Ms Holly, has had a wild couple of years in her young life. She’s found her way into the national newspapers, she’s made it onto national television and radio, she’s made it to number one on the Amazon UK paid erotica chart and on the free chart, and she’s in her third printing with Xcite books. Holly has even made her way into public libraries all across the UK!

Holly has done the Coast to Coast walk across England with Raymond and me in a zip lock bag. (We couldn’t find any waterproofs in her size). She’s been to Las Vegas where she was read from at the famous Flamingo hotel. She’s been on the bookshelves in WH Smith stores in airports, train stations and along the motorways. That girl is well travelled! And after such a wild couple of years, a girl just needs a make-over

That’s right, The Initiation of Ms Holly has had a make-over. In fact, Holly has had TWO makeovers.

I loved Holly’s original cover from the very first time I saw it, and I was a bit reluctant when Xcite’s MD, Hazel Cushion told me that Holly was getting a new cover, but I have to admit, I’m not disappointed with the end result.  But Holly never does things by half. Holly gets two new covers. She gets the lovely new one that Xcite Books is giving her here in the UK, and next February, she’ll be getting the fabulous new cover that Sourcebooks is giving her for her new US distribution debut. I’ve already seen that one, but I can’t share it just yet. But let me just say that Holly will look fabulous on both sides of the Pond! It’s like having two sexy new party frocks at once!

theinitiationsofmsholly_front_jpegBut there’s more news for Holly. After a long time on her own, Holly is about to have  a sequel  in The Mount Series, which will be coming out early next year. Remember my exciting outing in Las Vegas this past March? Research, dawlings, research! And I can only say that the Mount Las Vegas is every bit as filthy and full of intrigue as the Mount in London.  I can’t WAIT to start writing!

In the meantime, just to share the celebration – new frock and all,  here’s a little teasing excerpt for you.

Blurb:

Journalist, Rita Holly, never dreamed sex with the mysterious Edward in the dark of a malfunctioning train would lead to a blindfolded, champagne-drenched tango, a spanking by a butch waitress, and an offer of initiation into the exclusive mysteries of The Mount. Desperate to save her threatened job, she agrees, scheming secretly to write an inside exposé on the club that will make her career. But as she delves deeper into the intrigue of The Mount and the lives of its members, she soon discovers that her heart may have other plans.

Excerpt:

She had only just tasted the champagne when a warm body scooted into the booth next to her. She recognize Edward’s scent a split second before his hand cupped her cheek and his mouth covered hers, familiar territory, she thought, as her tongue became reacquainted with his.

‘I hope you don’t mind the blindfold,’ Edward said when he came up for air. He slid warm fingers under the spaghetti straps and caressing her left shoulder. ‘Being in the dark was so much fun last time.’

She ran a hand over his cheek, raking a thumb lightly over a fluttering eyelid. ‘What about you? You’re not wearing a blindfold. That’s hardly fair.’

He chuckled, and she felt his warm breath against her earlobe. ‘I never said I play fair. I was right though. You are exquisite, but I wouldn’t have imagined your hair to be chestnut’ He caressed her tresses, pushing a strand back behind her shoulders to fondle her nape. ‘For some reason I was certain that cascade of silk would be strawberry blonde.’ He ran his other hand up the outside of her thigh, toying with the exposed edge of her garter belt, making her squirm. ‘Guess in some cases, there’s just no substitute for the sense of sight.’

‘But I want to see you too. I want to know what you look like.’

‘You will in good time. That is if you want to play my little game. Of course you could take off the blindfold. I can’t stop you, but admit it, it’s fun not knowing. A bit of an adventure, an initiation almost.’

‘An initiation?’

‘Yeah, you know, at the beginning, when a man and a woman are just getting to know each other, it’s like an initiation, don’t you think?’

‘I never thought of it like that, kind of like a hazing?’

He chuckled. ‘Can be. Could be, if you want it to be.’ He nipped her earlobe, ‘Or maybe like an induction into some secret cult with secret rituals of wild, kinky sex.’

‘Mmm. Sounds good. Where do I sign up?’

Another chuckle. ‘All you have to do is keep the blindfold on until I say you can take it off. Let your other senses do the work.’ His finger slipped beneath the suspender to stroke her thigh, making concentration next to impossible.

‘I’ve always wanted to be a member of a secret sex cult.’ Breathing was becoming more of an effort as his touch became more insistent. ‘Okay then. I’m in. Have your way with me.’

There was a long moment of silence, and for a split second Rita wondered if she had said something wrong, if she been too forward, too quick with her answer. But just when she was about to back track, he leaned in and kissed her softly on the mouth. She could almost hear his heart beating in his words when at last he spoke. ‘Then welcome to your new playground.’ His hand slipped underneath the spaghetti straps to cup her breast and stroke her engorged areola. ‘Expensive dress?’

‘What?’ Intimidation knotted her stomach. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Not really.’ She could hear him filling the champagne flute. ‘I’ll buy you a new one.’ He lifted the glass to her lips. Just as the taste hit her tongue he pulled it away and she felt a cold wet splash over her left breast. She stifled a yelp, but not before his lips clamped down tight on her drenched nipple, and the friction of tongue and teeth on wet silk caused delicious shock waves down her belly all the way to her cunt.

‘You know,’ he said between sucklings, ‘at the command of Louis 15th, the original champagne glass was said to have been shaped like the breasts of his mistress, Madame Pompadour. I can understand why. Once you’ve suckled champagne from a beautiful breast champagne alone, no matter how expensive, isn’t nearly as nice.’

Another cold splash across both breasts and down her cleavage. She gasped and held him to her as he shoved down the spaghetti straps and freed her into his hungry mouth. ‘What if people are watching?’ she whispered.

‘Don’t worry.  I know the owner.’

Another drizzle of fizz, but this time over her belly, dripping down icily against her mound. She squirmed and ground her hips against the seat.

‘Open your legs for me,’ he whispered. ‘There’s one cup even more perfect than Louis’s design.’

*****

And since what happens in Vegas isn’t about to stay in Vegas this time, here’s an eeentsy-weentsy peek at Holly’s sequel.

Fulfilling the Contract:

NICK CHASE’s first-ever blind date ends in disaster, leaving his date in breach of a very strange contract that costs her a huge completion bonus. Feeling guildy for his part in her loss, bleeding-heart Nick gets more than he bargained for when he negotiates to fulfill the contract for her and secure her bonus.

Tough and mysterious ELSA CRANE runs Mount Vegas, which offers voyeuristic pleasures for a price. Nick’s job, with Elsa and her staff, is to give clients something worth seeing. As Nick and Elsa’s relationship sizzles and ignites in ways neither expected things get positively dangerous in this sequel to The Initiation of Ms Holly.

Coming Soon!

Buy The Initiation of Ms Holly here:

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Amazon UK
Amazon US
Barnes & Noble
Waterstone’s
The Book Depository
Powell’s
Xcite Books
Lovehoney

eBook

Amazon UK
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks
Waterstone’s
Xcite Books
Barnes & Noble
Kobobooks.com

New Release: A French Affair by Lucy Felthouse

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A French AffairSydney Tyler is renting a barn conversion in Northern France, planning to spend the fortnight getting some words down on her novel. Unfortunately, construction work in the other half of the building puts an end to her peace and quiet. Genuinely upset that the builders are going to disturb her, the property’s handsome English owner, Harry Bay, offers to make it up to her. He’s a little flirtatious, and after spotting his wedding ring, Sydney keeps him at arm’s length. Sexy as he is, she has no intention of getting involved with a married man. But when Sydney learns the truth about Harry, will their mutual attraction spur them on to work through their emotional baggage and make this more than just a French affair?

Available from: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/a-french-affair/

*****

Excerpt:

Sydney Tyler jumped so hard that her fingers slammed down onto the laptop’s keyboard and she typed a bunch of gobbledegook.

Kashfkjsdhlfknsdlfvn sdlkch awoeduioh ahdwklc

Gasping, she clutched at her chest as her heart thumped rapidly and painfully. “What the fucking hell was that?” she said to the empty room.

Pushing her chair back from the desk, she stepped over to the window. Peering out into the brilliant sunshine, she saw something on the lawn that she had absolutely not been expecting. Workmen.

She groaned. So much for her peaceful writer’s retreat. She’d planned to get a good chunk of her novel down in the fortnight she was away, and now it looked as though her peace was going to be monumentally shattered by banging, drilling and God knows what else.

Sighing, she gave the windowsill a pathetic thump in her frustration. She might have been pissed off, but she was no vandal. And besides, she didn’t want those noisy buggers in her part of the building fixing things—having them next door was bad enough.

Sydney really could not believe her shitty luck. When she’d booked the cottage in the French village of Monthiers over the phone a couple of months ago, she’d dealt with a fellow Brit called Harry Bay, who she’d suspected was the owner. On arrival, though, a timid French woman had met her and let her into the luxurious barn conversion before handing over the keys and explaining a little bit about the local area. Apparently, in the mornings, someone came along the village streets, selling fresh bread and pastries.

There wasn’t much else to tell, it seemed, as the village had nothing except a church—almost opposite her accommodation—and a tavern. It was also lacking—she’d quickly discovered—a mobile signal. Not even a single bar illuminated her screen. Her phone was now no more than a watch, alarm clock and calendar. If there was an emergency, she was screwed. But on a much lighter note, it was one less distraction. She could just get on with what she was here to do, blissfully undisturbed.

The arrival of workmen was incredibly irritating. Her temporary landlord hadn’t mentioned there’d be anyone working next door. If he had, she wouldn’t have booked the place—the quiet and idyllic location were the whole reason for choosing this property, this area. Even though there was no way he could have known she was there to work, common courtesy would dictate that he told her. Perhaps he was just interested in taking her money and didn’t give a damn about whether she had a satisfactory stay or not. There was nothing to be done about it now, unfortunately. She’d paid for the fortnight, and she was buggered if she was going to cut and run, pissing that money down the drain. She’d just have to find a way around the disturbance, and console herself that she could leave a snarky write up on a review site when she got home.

Finding out the builders’ working hours would be a good start—she could attempt to write around them then. Or perhaps she could make use of the headphones she’d stuffed into her case, without ever thinking they’d get used. Some loud rock music would drown out the din from next door and hopefully allow her to work. It was worth a try. She hoped they were only doing a small job that would only take a couple of days, but deep down she knew they weren’t. They were renovating the whole place so it was as beautiful as the half she was in.

She was just about to go in search of the aforementioned headphones when one of the men pottering around on the lush back garden stepped away from the others. Standing in a shaft of sunlight, he pulled his arms high above his head and stretched, dragging up his t-shirt to reveal a lean stomach with a fine line of dark hair leading enticingly into the waistband of his jeans.

Oh yum, she thought, perhaps having builders next door wouldn’t be so bad after all. Especially if they all looked like him. She continued to watch as the man dropped his arms to his sides and watched the others. His dark hair was overlong and stuck out at crazy angles, as though he’d been running his fingers through it. She couldn’t see the colour of his eyes from this distance, but she could make out enough detail of his features to see that he was handsome. Gorgeous, actually. Close up he could be much less attractive, but from her upstairs window, the view was pretty fine.

Just then, he glanced across at her side of the long barn, which was divided into two holiday cottages. He caught sight of her standing there, and his face dropped. He looked back at the builders, then returned his gaze to her again. Pointing at the group of noisy men, he slapped his forehead with his other hand. Finally, he pointed at his chest, then up at her. He was indicating he wanted to come in. She paused, then nodded. Common sense told her she shouldn’t be letting a strange man into her temporary home, but then, there were several large, bulky men milling around, so if they were a dodgy sort, she and the locked door would have no chance against them, especially with no means of calling for assistance. She could scream, of course, but she doubted anyone would come. The walls of the building were extremely thick—though sadly, no match for banging and drilling—the nearest house was a little way down the road, and by day, the village was all but deserted. There was only one business that she knew of—the tavern—so the other inhabitants would have to go elsewhere to work. To nearby Chateau-Thierry, perhaps, or even further afield.

She’d just have to hope that the handsome man—probably the head honcho of their group—was also a decent one. Presumably they were a reputable company, as they’d been hired by the British owners, who were usually more wary of cowboy builders, and given the horror stories and dedicated TV programmes back home, it was understandable.

Before she got even halfway down the stairs, a knock came at the door. Okay, so he was polite enough to knock, that was good. She moved a little faster, careful not to trip in her flip flops and go hurtling downwards. Once she was safely on the ground floor, she twisted the key in the door and opened it.

*****

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over seventy publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include Best Bondage Erotica 2012 and 2013, and Best Women’s Erotica 2013. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9