Teaser!! The Wild Side, coming your way sooner than you thought.

Okay, I've had a brief change of plans for this project.  Bear with me here, as the decision is based on my vision for this story, and how I think it would best be presented.  

I'm turning my beloved Alasdair into a novella series, with 2-3 installments, published within 3-4 weeks of each other.  There are some wicked twists in this story, and I really think that the short breaks between each serve it best.  

The good news?  The first installment should be ready to publish in just a few weeks(May 21st), and I'm sooo excited to see what you think!  In fact, I plan to add a questionnaire at the end to see where you think the story is going:)  

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THE WILD SIDE ARE YOU READY TO TAKE A WALK? Alasdair Masters is in a rut.  He just hit forty, has been nearly celibate for the past year, and his life has turned into a daily sequence of lonely patterns that revolve around avoiding human contact.   His tidy life is turned on its head when a hot young blonde at the gym that’s been pseudo-stalking him decides to rock his world.  A very young blonde.  Way, way too young for him.  The problem is, he can’t seem to tell her no, and she just keeps coming back for more. It doesn’t help that he’s ninety percent sure she’s a criminal, and still, he can’t seem to turn her down.  What is a dull introvert to do when a chaotic cyclone that oozes sexuality comes twisting into his life?     At first, he thinks she’ll give him a heart attack, but after his twenty-year marriage ended a year ago, he’s been a little lost, and when she comes crashing into his life, he realizes that he’s never felt more alive. Is a walk on the wild side just what he needs to get his life on track or a disaster in the making?  Is it possible for someone that much younger to be just what he needs, or is she a fortune hunter, as everyone keeps telling him?  Is it his hormones telling him that the mysterious younger woman is the one, or could it be more?       I set my two perfectly folded gym towels down on a chair by the treadmill and got on the machine.   I always brought two.  I wasn’t even sure why.  I was a creature of habit.  Once I started a pattern, I tended to stick to it, rain or shine.   Kind of like my marriage.  Of course, that hadn’t lasted forever, but that hadn’t exactly been my choice. I punched in my settings and began my warm-up.  I had already done twenty minutes of stretching at home.  My three-hour daily workout was very precise.  I had a family history chock-full of heart disease, and so I aggressively fought to stay healthy.  I was intelligent enough to know that I’d brought the whole thing to an extreme, but honestly, what else was I supposed to do with my free time?  I was busy enough with work, but my work involved a lot of sitting down and tapping away at a computer, and I felt I had to counter all of that physical inactivity, somehow.   I’d just had my dreaded fortieth birthday, and I felt like I was in as good of shape as I’d ever been.  My waistline wasn’t growing, thanks to my three hours a day in the gym and an impeccable diet, and my muscles were well toned and good sized.  I had no idea what age I actually looked, but I figured the liberal salt and pepper at my temples brought it at least close to forty.  I didn’t really give it much thought, as I stayed largely to myself, and any time I was on camera, I went out of my way to avoid seeing it.   The gym was busy, as it usually was, so my time there was literally the most social I was in an average day, and I usually got away with a nod and a good morning to the receptionist on the way in.   That was it.  The only verbal interaction in my day.   Sometimes I had to talk on the phone for work, and once, maybe twice a year, I did a few television or radio interviews.   And that was it.   The scary part was it was effortless for me.  It had started with an ugly divorce just over one year ago, and slowly shaped its way into this.  A sad, old man that could have easily embraced a life as a complete recluse.   I did still go out of my way to work out at an upscale gym, instead of just building one in my house.  I had the room.  I certainly had the money.  I figured it was only a matter of time before I resorted to that, too.   The strange part of it was, I wasn’t worried about it because I was lonely.  I was worried because I wasn’t.  I did miss being with a woman in the literal sexual sense, but that was about it.  I’d considered the idea of hiring a prostitute briefly, but even that seemed like an ordeal.  I detested breaking the law.  It was so very chaotic.   A familiar figure moved onto the machine next to me, and I met smiling light green eyes in the mirror, nodded once briefly, then looked back down.     She was a shapely little blonde woman that had started sharing my gym hours nine days ago.   Girl, I corrected myself.  She was a girl, way too young for me to even sneak a long glance at, though I was only human, and she was wearing next to nothing, so I’d caught many, many glances.   She probably thought I was dad material, I told myself, as she started to jog on the machine, her full, perky breasts bouncing with every smooth step.   She really needed to go shopping for a more supportive sports bra, I thought to myself, my eyes catching on her, then darting away, then glancing again within a few bounces.   She wore only a hot pink sports bra and the tiniest skintight white lycra shorts I’d ever seen in my life.  Her abs were toned, waist tiny, her skin smooth in a way that happened only in the very young.    Way, way too young for you, I reminded myself, my furtive gaze catching on her lithe hips as she jogged her sexy little heart out.   My eyes moved up to her face, and I flushed to find her watching me watching her.  I looked down and kept on jogging.   There’d been no censure in her eyes, and so I found mine wandering back to her face.   She was beautiful.  Not a scrap of makeup on, her white-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and still she could’ve stopped traffic.  A real bombshell.  None of it was artificial either, just plain old good genetics at work.   She was friendly, too.  I wasn’t sure why, but she usually took the machine next to mine, if it was empty, though there were lots to choose from.  She always had a smile for me, too.   Maybe I reminded her of her dad.  Or fuck, her grandpa.   It didn’t bear thinking about it.   I’d never been with a younger woman, let alone one that much younger.  Hell, she’d probably give me a heart attack.  I shook off the thought.  A flawless little thing like that wouldn’t give me a second glance, and I told myself that was a good thing.   For all I knew, she could have been jailbait.  Needless to say, for a man that’d never even had a speeding ticket, just the idea of that was too scandalous to linger on.   Still, my eyes were drawn, time and again, to her perfect figure jogging hard on that treadmill.  Her legs were incredible, long and slender, bare from the top of her thigh to her ankles, and so toned and tan.   I made myself look away and not look back.   I hit the one-hour mark on the machine when I saw her slow and stop out of the corner of my eye.  This had become a pattern, too.  I did exactly one hour of cardio, before I hit the free weights.  She seemed to be working a similar routine, and every day I saw her, it became even more in sync with mine.   I almost jumped in surprise when she approached me directly, standing on the very front of my machine, to get my attention.   My eyes traveled slowly up, trying not to linger on the way her breasts rose out of her sports bra’s neckline as she leaned into my machine.  She was spilling out of the thing. She beamed at me.   I swallowed hard, catching the side bar and swinging first one leg, and then the other, onto the footrests on the sides, coming to a stop.   I popped out an ear bud, raising my brows in what I hoped was a look of polite interest.   “Hi,” she said.   “Hey,” I panted back, shutting the treadmill down.  May as well quit, since I’d reached my goal.   She handed me my towel, and I took it, immediately wiping my brow.  This was a new development and a strange one, to be sure.   She held up the second towel, my OCD towel, if you will.  “I saw that you have two.  I forgot mine.  You mind if I borrow it?”   I shook my head.  “Go for it.  Glad I could help.”   She smiled again.  Her teeth were gorgeous, straight and white against her tan skin.  “What’s your name?” she asked me.   I was caught off guard, and so it took me a few extra beats to answer awkwardly.  “Alasdair.”   She raised her brows, looking intrigued.  “Nice name.  It has a lot of character.  Do you shorten it at all, or should I call you that, Alasdair?”   Hearing her say my name made me feel indecent.  Just beastly.  I briefly considered cutting my workout short.  “Sometimes my friends call me Dair.”   “Dair.  I like that too.  And are you daring, Dair?”   “Not particularly,” I said quickly, my heart pounding.  I couldn’t quite believe that she was hitting on me, but if she was, I needed to put a quick stop to it.   Way too young, I told myself firmly.   I moved to the weights, and she followed like we were old friends.  I started doing curls, eyes glued to her as she grabbed some smaller weights and started doing dead lifts with a hammer curl. The sight of that had me slack-jawed.  The move consisted of her bending down at the waist, her legs straight, and touching the ground, then lifting back, her ponytail bouncing, back arched, her incredible ass sticking out, and bringing her arms into a curl.   She faced away from me when she did it, giving me a perfect view.  Her shorts were so thin, her skin so supple, that it was more perfectly designed to turn me on than a porno.  And I’d watched plenty of porn.  The girl was set on giving me a heart attack today.   She kept doing it for the longest time, sending me a look over her shoulder as she straightened on the last rep.  She smiled that sweet little smile at me.  “Well, aren’t you gonna ask me?”   I had no idea what she was talking about, but my mind went very dirty with it.   Could you do that one more time, but pull your shorts down for this one, so I can fuck your brains out?  I was pretty positive that wasn’t what she meant. Can I give you a ride home?  Or maybe a hard ride on my cock?  Nope, those two were out, too.  Or how about, Want to grab a coffee after this?  That one was better, but I held my tongue.   “Excuse me?” I asked instead.  The safest bet of all.   “My name.  I know yours now.  Don’t you want to know mine?”   I smiled politely, sincerely hoping that my raging hard-on wasn’t too obvious.  I was wearing athletic pants and a long sweatshirt, so I was probably safe.  “Yes, of course.  Nice to meet you…” “Iris.” My brows shot up.  You didn’t see many girls her age named Iris.  “Iris?”   Her eyes twinkled at me.  She gave very good eye contact.  Intense, but good.  “Don’t you like it?”   “Y-yes,” I stammered out.  “It’s a beautiful name.”   “It’s always easy to pick out flowers for me.  My favorite flower is the same as my name.”   “I’ll make a note of it.”  What the fuck did you say that for? I asked myself.  Of course, I wouldn’t be getting her flowers.  Totally inappropriate.   She looked pleased as punch.  “You do that.”   She bent down, her back arched like a pinup girl, and picked up her borrowed towel.  She moved closer, dabbing at her cleavage with it.   I swallowed hard, my cock throbbing in time to my accelerated heart rate.   “Upper body today, huh?” she asked.   I was watching her perky tits as she said it, so I blinked like an idiot.  Her nipples were hard.  I could see them through that flimsy as hell bra.  “Hmm?”  The towel moved down to her stomach.  She didn’t look to be sweating much, but she patted herself down like she was.   I was in a full on sweat.  I designed it that way.  It made for a better workout, but just then I wanted to strip down.   Strip down and pin a naked Iris to the floor.   “You’re working your upper body today.  You alternate, right?” “Oh yeah.” “It’s an intense workout you’ve got going.  You training for something in particular?”   I shook my head.  “Just trying to stay fit.  What about you?  You clock in three hours, too, right?”   She shrugged.  “That’s a new thing, though I do enjoy a good workout.  Just trying to keep things nice and tight.”   That made my brain short-circuit.  “Things are looking very tight.”  A perfect fit for my cock, my perverted mind added.   She came a little closer, almost into my personal space.  “Thank you.  That’s a big compliment, coming from a gym regular like you.”   I couldn’t take anymore.  I turned, put the weights back on the bar, and went into a round of grueling pushups.   When I rose again, she was a few feet away doing French press reps, her chest thrust forward.   I turned quickly away, and tried not to so much as glance at her.   She kept her distance until I was on the last quarter hour of my routine, making my rounds on the machines.   “I bet you have some super special after workout drink you down after these sessions,” she told me as she approached my machine, her tone playful.   She got right up in my personal space, her breasts just inches from my face.   I looked up at her eyes, mine almost pleading.  She had to quit teasing me, whether or not she knew that’s what she was doing.   I grunted.   “Admit it.  You do, don’t you?”   My mouth twisted wryly.  She even had a good personality.  She was a sweet little thing.  She didn’t need to be.  She could have gotten by on sheer good looks alone.  “I have a little something I make.”   “It’s a drink, isn’t it?  I’d bet good cash you make it with a Vitamix, and it has kale in it.”   I coughed out a laugh.  “You aren’t wrong.  I’m pretty predictable, huh?”   She winked at me.  Fucking winked.  It was adorable, and I needed to get away from her.  “You’re a mystery to me.  I’m just throwing out guesses, trying to figure you out.” “Now why would you do that?  I have to tell you, I’m about as boring as they come.”   She shook her head, her eyes soft.  “Not at all.  You seem fascinating to me, Dair.”   I wasn’t sure why, but that seemed to be my breaking point.   I politely excused myself and hit the showers.  I was the only one in there, and I did give half a thought to rubbing a quick one off, but I refrained.  I’d be home soon enough.   I emerged from the showers, clad in a fresh white T-shirt and black athletic shorts, to find Iris still hanging near the weights, still in her workout gear, dabbing at her glistening breasts with my towel. Well, I guess she’ll be keeping that, I thought, giving it one last longing look before I turned on my heel and headed out.   I nearly let the door swing shut on her before I realized that she’d followed me, still in her workout gear, duffle bag in tow.  I held the door wide for her, a little worried at her beaming smile.   “You shower at home?” I asked, then wanted to take it back.  I did not need a visual of her showering.   “Yeah, usually.  Here.”  She draped the used towel over my shoulder.   My mind went really filthy with the things I’d be doing with it later.   “Thanks for that.  You just headed home now?”   I nodded, looking over at the parking lot, back at the gym, anywhere but at the too young girl that was too much trouble for my peace of mind.   “Have a good one,” I murmured, and walked away.   “Wait,” she called out from behind me when I was halfway through the parking lot.   I stopped.  She was just a few feet behind.  Either she was following me, or she was walking somewhere.  My pearl white model S Tesla was the only car parked this far back.   I turned to her, and she was smiling at me, of course.   “Do you mind giving me a ride?” I took a few deep, steadying breaths, wondering what to do.   Of course, I needed to give her a ride.  If the poor girl needed to walk somewhere, she could hardly do it dressed like that.  She’d be abducted, for sure.   I wasn’t positive that I wouldn’t abduct her myself.   “Sure, honey.  Where you need to go?”   She pointed at my car, her eyes widening.  “Is that your ride?  It’s brilliant.  Wow.  A Tesla.  Just beautiful.” I smiled, impressed that she knew what it was and waved her on.   I loved my car, and I got a real kick out of her excited reaction to it.  She was good at making me smile.   “I’ve never been in one of these before.”   “I just got this one about eight months ago.”   “Do you like it?” “Yes.  I’m happy with it.”   “Whoa.  You got the seven seater?  You have any kids?” I laughed.  “No.  I have no excuse, other than that the salesman was very good at selling me features.”   We were inside and belted before I looked at her again.  I could smell her in the small space.  She smelled so good that it was playing havoc with my peace of mind.  Like vanilla, maybe a touch of lemon, and some hint of what could only be her hot little body after a good workout.   I was shamefully happy that she hadn’t showered after the workout.  I had a very clear visual of me licking every bit of that salty sweet sweat off her, and since that wouldn’t be happening, I at least had a smell to obsess over in place of that.   She reclined her seat until she was lying down flat.  Her mouthwatering breasts pointed straight up in that position.  “That is so cool.  What is that called?  The glass ceiling?” “An all glass panoramic roof.  Like I said, the salesman was very good at selling me features, even ones I didn’t need.” I started the car, waiting for her to tell me where to go.  When we just sat there for a few minutes, I asked, “So, where can I drop you?”   She brought her seat back up.  “Aren’t you going to invite me back to your place?  I want to see your house.  And I’d like to try whatever concoction you make yourself drink after your workout.”   I smiled and shook my head.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Iris.  You are much too young to be inviting yourself to some man’s house.  Especially an old guy like me.”   “How old are you?” she asked, sounding only vaguely curious about that.   “Forty.  Old.  How old are you?”   “Twenty-four, Alasdair.  Old enough for any damn thing.”   I gave her a gimlet-eyed look, sure she was messing with me.  “I don’t believe you.  Prove it.  Show me your ID.” She giggled like I’d just said the funniest thing, but she did bend forward to fish around in her bag, retrieving a small pink wallet.  “What?  You think I’m jailbait?”   “Something like that.”   She handed me a Nevada driver’s license.  I studied it, did some quick math, then studied it some more.  It was real, as far as I could tell, and it did place her at twenty-four.  I could hardly believe it.   “I’m still way too old for you.”   “Your cock doesn’t agree.”  Her tone was so innocent that it took me a moment to process what she’d said.   I flushed bright red.  “My cock doesn’t know what’s good for it.”   “But I do.”  Her voice was whisper soft and breathy.   I put the car in reverse.  “You sure about this?”   

THE WILD SIDE

ARE YOU READY TO TAKE A WALK?

Alasdair Masters is in a rut.  He just hit forty, has been nearly celibate for the past year, and his life has turned into a daily sequence of lonely patterns that revolve around avoiding human contact.  

His tidy life is turned on its head when a hot young blonde at the gym that’s been pseudo-stalking him decides to rock his world.  A very young blonde.  Way, way too young for him.  The problem is, he can’t seem to tell her no, and she just keeps coming back for more.

It doesn’t help that he’s ninety percent sure she’s a criminal, and still, he can’t seem to turn her down.  What is a dull introvert to do when a chaotic cyclone that oozes sexuality comes twisting into his life?    

At first, he thinks she’ll give him a heart attack, but after his twenty-year marriage ended a year ago, he’s been a little lost, and when she comes crashing into his life, he realizes that he’s never felt more alive.

Is a walk on the wild side just what he needs to get his life on track or a disaster in the making?  Is it possible for someone that much younger to be just what he needs, or is she a fortune hunter, as everyone keeps telling him?  Is it his hormones telling him that the mysterious younger woman is the one, or could it be more?  

 

 

I set my two perfectly folded gym towels down on a chair by the treadmill and got on the machine.  

I always brought two.  I wasn’t even sure why.  I was a creature of habit.  Once I started a pattern, I tended to stick to it, rain or shine.  

Kind of like my marriage.  Of course, that hadn’t lasted forever, but that hadn’t exactly been my choice.

I punched in my settings and began my warm-up.  I had already done twenty minutes of stretching at home.  My three-hour daily workout was very precise.  I had a family history chock-full of heart disease, and so I aggressively fought to stay healthy.  I was intelligent enough to know that I’d brought the whole thing to an extreme, but honestly, what else was I supposed to do with my free time?  I was busy enough with work, but my work involved a lot of sitting down and tapping away at a computer, and I felt I had to counter all of that physical inactivity, somehow.  

I’d just had my dreaded fortieth birthday, and I felt like I was in as good of shape as I’d ever been.  My waistline wasn’t growing, thanks to my three hours a day in the gym and an impeccable diet, and my muscles were well toned and good sized.  I had no idea what age I actually looked, but I figured the liberal salt and pepper at my temples brought it at least close to forty.  I didn’t really give it much thought, as I stayed largely to myself, and any time I was on camera, I went out of my way to avoid seeing it.  

The gym was busy, as it usually was, so my time there was literally the most social I was in an average day, and I usually got away with a nod and a good morning to the receptionist on the way in.  

That was it.  The only verbal interaction in my day.  

Sometimes I had to talk on the phone for work, and once, maybe twice a year, I did a few television or radio interviews.  

And that was it.  

The scary part was it was effortless for me.  It had started with an ugly divorce just over one year ago, and slowly shaped its way into this.  A sad, old man that could have easily embraced a life as a complete recluse.  

I did still go out of my way to work out at an upscale gym, instead of just building one in my house.  I had the room.  I certainly had the money.  I figured it was only a matter of time before I resorted to that, too.  

The strange part of it was, I wasn’t worried about it because I was lonely.  I was worried because I wasn’t.  I did miss being with a woman in the literal sexual sense, but that was about it.  I’d considered the idea of hiring a prostitute briefly, but even that seemed like an ordeal.  I detested breaking the law.  It was so very chaotic.  

A familiar figure moved onto the machine next to me, and I met smiling light green eyes in the mirror, nodded once briefly, then looked back down.    

She was a shapely little blonde woman that had started sharing my gym hours nine days ago.  

Girl, I corrected myself.  She was a girl, way too young for me to even sneak a long glance at, though I was only human, and she was wearing next to nothing, so I’d caught many, many glances.  

She probably thought I was dad material, I told myself, as she started to jog on the machine, her full, perky breasts bouncing with every smooth step.  

She really needed to go shopping for a more supportive sports bra, I thought to myself, my eyes catching on her, then darting away, then glancing again within a few bounces.  

She wore only a hot pink sports bra and the tiniest skintight white lycra shorts I’d ever seen in my life.  Her abs were toned, waist tiny, her skin smooth in a way that happened only in the very young.   

Way, way too young for you, I reminded myself, my furtive gaze catching on her lithe hips as she jogged her sexy little heart out.  

My eyes moved up to her face, and I flushed to find her watching me watching her.  I looked down and kept on jogging.  

There’d been no censure in her eyes, and so I found mine wandering back to her face.  

She was beautiful.  Not a scrap of makeup on, her white-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and still she could’ve stopped traffic.  A real bombshell.  None of it was artificial either, just plain old good genetics at work.  

She was friendly, too.  I wasn’t sure why, but she usually took the machine next to mine, if it was empty, though there were lots to choose from.  She always had a smile for me, too.  

Maybe I reminded her of her dad.  Or fuck, her grandpa.  

It didn’t bear thinking about it.  

I’d never been with a younger woman, let alone one that much younger.  Hell, she’d probably give me a heart attack.  I shook off the thought.  A flawless little thing like that wouldn’t give me a second glance, and I told myself that was a good thing.  

For all I knew, she could have been jailbait.  Needless to say, for a man that’d never even had a speeding ticket, just the idea of that was too scandalous to linger on.  

Still, my eyes were drawn, time and again, to her perfect figure jogging hard on that treadmill.  Her legs were incredible, long and slender, bare from the top of her thigh to her ankles, and so toned and tan.  

I made myself look away and not look back.  

I hit the one-hour mark on the machine when I saw her slow and stop out of the corner of my eye.  This had become a pattern, too.  I did exactly one hour of cardio, before I hit the free weights.  She seemed to be working a similar routine, and every day I saw her, it became even more in sync with mine.  

I almost jumped in surprise when she approached me directly, standing on the very front of my machine, to get my attention.  

My eyes traveled slowly up, trying not to linger on the way her breasts rose out of her sports bra’s neckline as she leaned into my machine.  She was spilling out of the thing.

She beamed at me.  

I swallowed hard, catching the side bar and swinging first one leg, and then the other, onto the footrests on the sides, coming to a stop.  

I popped out an ear bud, raising my brows in what I hoped was a look of polite interest.  

“Hi,” she said.  

“Hey,” I panted back, shutting the treadmill down.  May as well quit, since I’d reached my goal.  

She handed me my towel, and I took it, immediately wiping my brow.  This was a new development and a strange one, to be sure.  

She held up the second towel, my OCD towel, if you will.  “I saw that you have two.  I forgot mine.  You mind if I borrow it?”  

I shook my head.  “Go for it.  Glad I could help.”  

She smiled again.  Her teeth were gorgeous, straight and white against her tan skin.  “What’s your name?” she asked me.  

I was caught off guard, and so it took me a few extra beats to answer awkwardly.  “Alasdair.”  

She raised her brows, looking intrigued.  “Nice name.  It has a lot of character.  Do you shorten it at all, or should I call you that, Alasdair?”  

Hearing her say my name made me feel indecent.  Just beastly.  I briefly considered cutting my workout short.  “Sometimes my friends call me Dair.”  

“Dair.  I like that too.  And are you daring, Dair?”  

“Not particularly,” I said quickly, my heart pounding.  I couldn’t quite believe that she was hitting on me, but if she was, I needed to put a quick stop to it.  

Way too young, I told myself firmly.  

I moved to the weights, and she followed like we were old friends.  I started doing curls, eyes glued to her as she grabbed some smaller weights and started doing dead lifts with a hammer curl.

The sight of that had me slack-jawed.  The move consisted of her bending down at the waist, her legs straight, and touching the ground, then lifting back, her ponytail bouncing, back arched, her incredible ass sticking out, and bringing her arms into a curl.  

She faced away from me when she did it, giving me a perfect view.  Her shorts were so thin, her skin so supple, that it was more perfectly designed to turn me on than a porno.  And I’d watched plenty of porn.  The girl was set on giving me a heart attack today.  

She kept doing it for the longest time, sending me a look over her shoulder as she straightened on the last rep.  She smiled that sweet little smile at me.  “Well, aren’t you gonna ask me?”  

I had no idea what she was talking about, but my mind went very dirty with it.  

Could you do that one more time, but pull your shorts down for this one, so I can fuck your brains out?  I was pretty positive that wasn’t what she meant.

Can I give you a ride home?  Or maybe a hard ride on my cock?  Nope, those two were out, too. 

Or how about, Want to grab a coffee after this?  That one was better, but I held my tongue.  

“Excuse me?” I asked instead.  The safest bet of all.  

“My name.  I know yours now.  Don’t you want to know mine?”  

I smiled politely, sincerely hoping that my raging hard-on wasn’t too obvious.  I was wearing athletic pants and a long sweatshirt, so I was probably safe.  “Yes, of course.  Nice to meet you…”

“Iris.”

My brows shot up.  You didn’t see many girls her age named Iris.  “Iris?”  

Her eyes twinkled at me.  She gave very good eye contact.  Intense, but good.  “Don’t you like it?”  

“Y-yes,” I stammered out.  “It’s a beautiful name.”  

“It’s always easy to pick out flowers for me.  My favorite flower is the same as my name.”  

“I’ll make a note of it.”  What the fuck did you say that for? I asked myself.  Of course, I wouldn’t be getting her flowers.  Totally inappropriate.  

She looked pleased as punch.  “You do that.”  

She bent down, her back arched like a pinup girl, and picked up her borrowed towel.  She moved closer, dabbing at her cleavage with it.  

I swallowed hard, my cock throbbing in time to my accelerated heart rate.  

“Upper body today, huh?” she asked.  

I was watching her perky tits as she said it, so I blinked like an idiot.  Her nipples were hard.  I could see them through that flimsy as hell bra.  “Hmm?” 

The towel moved down to her stomach.  She didn’t look to be sweating much, but she patted herself down like she was.  

I was in a full on sweat.  I designed it that way.  It made for a better workout, but just then I wanted to strip down.  

Strip down and pin a naked Iris to the floor.  

“You’re working your upper body today.  You alternate, right?”

“Oh yeah.”

“It’s an intense workout you’ve got going.  You training for something in particular?”  

I shook my head.  “Just trying to stay fit.  What about you?  You clock in three hours, too, right?”  

She shrugged.  “That’s a new thing, though I do enjoy a good workout.  Just trying to keep things nice and tight.”  

That made my brain short-circuit.  “Things are looking very tight.”  A perfect fit for my cock, my perverted mind added.  

She came a little closer, almost into my personal space.  “Thank you.  That’s a big compliment, coming from a gym regular like you.”  

I couldn’t take anymore.  I turned, put the weights back on the bar, and went into a round of grueling pushups.  

When I rose again, she was a few feet away doing French press reps, her chest thrust forward.  

I turned quickly away, and tried not to so much as glance at her.  

She kept her distance until I was on the last quarter hour of my routine, making my rounds on the machines.  

“I bet you have some super special after workout drink you down after these sessions,” she told me as she approached my machine, her tone playful.  

She got right up in my personal space, her breasts just inches from my face.  

I looked up at her eyes, mine almost pleading.  She had to quit teasing me, whether or not she knew that’s what she was doing.  

I grunted.  

“Admit it.  You do, don’t you?”  

My mouth twisted wryly.  She even had a good personality.  She was a sweet little thing.  She didn’t need to be.  She could have gotten by on sheer good looks alone.  “I have a little something I make.”  

“It’s a drink, isn’t it?  I’d bet good cash you make it with a Vitamix, and it has kale in it.”  

I coughed out a laugh.  “You aren’t wrong.  I’m pretty predictable, huh?”  

She winked at me.  Fucking winked.  It was adorable, and I needed to get away from her.  “You’re a mystery to me.  I’m just throwing out guesses, trying to figure you out.”

“Now why would you do that?  I have to tell you, I’m about as boring as they come.”  

She shook her head, her eyes soft.  “Not at all.  You seem fascinating to me, Dair.”  

I wasn’t sure why, but that seemed to be my breaking point.  

I politely excused myself and hit the showers.  I was the only one in there, and I did give half a thought to rubbing a quick one off, but I refrained.  I’d be home soon enough.  

I emerged from the showers, clad in a fresh white T-shirt and black athletic shorts, to find Iris still hanging near the weights, still in her workout gear, dabbing at her glistening breasts with my towel.

Well, I guess she’ll be keeping that, I thought, giving it one last longing look before I turned on my heel and headed out.  

I nearly let the door swing shut on her before I realized that she’d followed me, still in her workout gear, duffle bag in tow.  I held the door wide for her, a little worried at her beaming smile.  

“You shower at home?” I asked, then wanted to take it back.  I did not need a visual of her showering.  

“Yeah, usually.  Here.”  She draped the used towel over my shoulder.  

My mind went really filthy with the things I’d be doing with it later.  

“Thanks for that.  You just headed home now?”  

I nodded, looking over at the parking lot, back at the gym, anywhere but at the too young girl that was too much trouble for my peace of mind.  

“Have a good one,” I murmured, and walked away.  

“Wait,” she called out from behind me when I was halfway through the parking lot.  

I stopped.  She was just a few feet behind.  Either she was following me, or she was walking somewhere.  My pearl white model S Tesla was the only car parked this far back.  

I turned to her, and she was smiling at me, of course.  

“Do you mind giving me a ride?”

I took a few deep, steadying breaths, wondering what to do.  

Of course, I needed to give her a ride.  If the poor girl needed to walk somewhere, she could hardly do it dressed like that.  She’d be abducted, for sure.  

I wasn’t positive that I wouldn’t abduct her myself.  

“Sure, honey.  Where you need to go?”  

She pointed at my car, her eyes widening.  “Is that your ride?  It’s brilliant.  Wow.  A Tesla.  Just beautiful.”

I smiled, impressed that she knew what it was and waved her on.  

I loved my car, and I got a real kick out of her excited reaction to it.  She was good at making me smile.  

“I’ve never been in one of these before.”  

“I just got this one about eight months ago.”  

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.  I’m happy with it.”  

“Whoa.  You got the seven seater?  You have any kids?”

I laughed.  “No.  I have no excuse, other than that the salesman was very good at selling me features.”  

We were inside and belted before I looked at her again.  I could smell her in the small space.  She smelled so good that it was playing havoc with my peace of mind.  Like vanilla, maybe a touch of lemon, and some hint of what could only be her hot little body after a good workout.  

I was shamefully happy that she hadn’t showered after the workout.  I had a very clear visual of me licking every bit of that salty sweet sweat off her, and since that wouldn’t be happening, I at least had a smell to obsess over in place of that.  

She reclined her seat until she was lying down flat.  Her mouthwatering breasts pointed straight up in that position.  “That is so cool.  What is that called?  The glass ceiling?”

“An all glass panoramic roof.  Like I said, the salesman was very good at selling me features, even ones I didn’t need.”

I started the car, waiting for her to tell me where to go.  When we just sat there for a few minutes, I asked, “So, where can I drop you?”  

She brought her seat back up.  “Aren’t you going to invite me back to your place?  I want to see your house.  And I’d like to try whatever concoction you make yourself drink after your workout.”  

I smiled and shook my head.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Iris.  You are much too young to be inviting yourself to some man’s house.  Especially an old guy like me.”  

“How old are you?” she asked, sounding only vaguely curious about that.  

“Forty.  Old.  How old are you?”  

“Twenty-four, Alasdair.  Old enough for any damn thing.”  

I gave her a gimlet-eyed look, sure she was messing with me.  “I don’t believe you.  Prove it.  Show me your ID.”

She giggled like I’d just said the funniest thing, but she did bend forward to fish around in her bag, retrieving a small pink wallet.  “What?  You think I’m jailbait?”  

“Something like that.”  

She handed me a Nevada driver’s license.  I studied it, did some quick math, then studied it some more.  It was real, as far as I could tell, and it did place her at twenty-four.  I could hardly believe it.  

“I’m still way too old for you.”  

“Your cock doesn’t agree.”  Her tone was so innocent that it took me a moment to process what she’d said.  

I flushed bright red.  “My cock doesn’t know what’s good for it.”  

“But I do.”  Her voice was whisper soft and breathy.  

I put the car in reverse.  “You sure about this?” 

 

15K Likes giveaway! Have you entered?

I've been off Facebook for a while, due to circumstances, but thanks to you all, the Likes page has managed to make it to 15k likes!  Wow! THANK YOU!  And to more fully express my thanks, I'm giving away a PATENT LEATHER COACH BAG STUFFED WITH A KINDLE READER! :) (International)

 

Mr. Beautiful Cover Reveal! In case you missed it.

I do not have a release date for this book.  I do, however, have a cover, and a teaser:)


photo copy 40.jpg



Mr. Beautiful will be a male POV continuation of the UITA series.  The bulk of the novel will take place after the events in Grounded.  However, there will also be many, many bonus male POV scenes from the first three books.    


A TEASER FROM MR. BEAUTIFUL

COMING 2014

WARNING:  THIS TEASER CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE UP IN THE AIR SERIES


JAMES


I couldn’t sleep after the shooting.  

Bianca slept like a baby, like she never had before, like every worry she’d ever had had disappeared with the death of her father.  

But not me.  I was more restless than ever.  A miracle had saved her, not me, and I felt helpless because of it.  

It was not a feeling that fit me well.  

In fact, it made my skin crawl in discomfort.  In anger.  

It had been months since the attack.  She and Stephan were healed physically, and it seemed emotionally, but I felt the wounds as though they were fresh.  What had almost happened haunted me.  I was a man that needed control, and I’d been shown, in the starkest way possible, that I had none.  

I sat scant feet away from our bed, watching Bianca sleep.  She was nude, with not so much as a sheet covering her.  I’d seen to that.  I watched her lithe form shift on the bed, one long leg hitching up to give me a glimpse of the pink between her legs.  

I felt like a fucking stalker.  

In fact, I was one, watching her for hours on end, night after night.    

I tensed when I realized she’d roused.  It disturbed her that I couldn’t sleep, when she deserved peace more than anyone.  

She sat up, and I watched her heavy breasts swaying with the movement.  “James.”  Her voice was the softest utterance.

“Love,” I answered, feeling the dark mood that had overtaken me lift in an instant.  Just having her eyes on me could do that.  

She crawled across the bed toward me.  She’d always had an uncanny ability to do exactly the thing that would drive me the most wild, and she’d only gotten better at that over time.  She didn’t hide her body from me as she moved.  In fact, she posed for me, even the exposure of her body an act of submission.  As though reading my thoughts, as though even those were a command, she paused on the edge of the bed, parting her legs to let me look my fill before she rose, approaching my chair.  

I stood to meet her, my body drawn tight, my cock throbbing as though I hadn’t come, buried inside of her, just hours before.  

I was a statue as she leaned up to my ear, my brows drawing together in a question.  Her lips touched my ear as she spoke.  

“Hurt me,” she whispered raggedly.  

My eyes shut tight, my jaw went slack, and a shudder wracked my entire body.  

I’d avoided all of the rough stuff since she’d been injured, but God had I missed it.

“We don’t have to, Bianca.  It’s not necess-”

She gripped my hair, pulling my face down to her injured cheek.  She dug her jaw into me so hard that I knew it must have been hurting her badly.  It was healed now, but I knew it was still sore.

“I need it,” she rasped into my ear.  “I’ll never stop needing it.  Please.”

I pulled back, and my hands trembled as I cupped her face in my hands, my eyes searching hers desperately for what I wanted to see.  Need.  Yes.  She needed this as much as I did.  Perhaps more so.  

“Get on the bed,” I told her thickly.  

IN CASE YOU MISSED IT! LOVELY TRIGGER IS LIVE!!

LOVELY TRIGGER (TRISTAN & DANIKA #3) IS NOW LIVE ON AMAZON, B&N, AND KOBO, and iTunes!

WARNING: THIS SERIES SHOULD BE READ IN ORDER.  Here is the series order:)

BAD THINGS (TRISTAN & DANIKA #1)

ROCK BOTTOM (TRISTAN & DANIKA #2)

LOVELY TRIGGER (TRISTAN & DANIKA #3)


BOOK THREE:  TRISTAN & DANIKA

THE IMPACT

Tristan hit rock bottom, and no one felt the impact harder than Danika.  She was forced to see, in the most brutal of ways, that love does not conquer all.  Bruised, bloody, and broken she had to walk away.    

THE AFTERMATH

Picking up the pieces of your life after a tragedy is a daunting prospect, and that’s considering you still own all of the pieces.  But what if you don’t?  What if someone else owns those pieces, and those pieces are a part of your soul?

You dig deep and work with what you’ve got.  

That’s what Danika told herself and believed, every single day, for years.  

Tristan and Danika’s love had failed every test that life had thrown at them.  She couldn’t forget that, not for one second.  And if those tests had been overly harsh, well, she wasn’t one to wallow in self-pity.  The failure was the thing she had to focus on.  The failure was the lesson.  She had no intention of working so hard to make  it out of hell without learning that lesson well.      

THE REUNION

Over six years after the night that changed everything, Danika finds herself forced to spend the weekend constantly in Tristan’s company, as they attend the wedding of two of their dearest friends.  It’s been long enough that she feels they can be friendly again without it destroying her peace of mind, but just a small amount of time in his presence has her remembering something she had forced herself to forget:  There’d been a reason she’d gone through hell with this man, for this man, some true good to precede the bad.    

She shocks herself by quickly giving in to a hunger that she never imagined could still consume her.  

Even the best intentioned denial has a breaking point.   

THE HARSH REALITY

After everything that’s happened, the rise and the fall, the pain and the aftermath, can these two navigate the waters of acute regret, survive the trials of coming face to face with all that they have lost, and find the strength to try again?  

This book is intended for readers 18 and up.


https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/lovely-trigger/id838554699?mt=11


Bad Things is on SALE!

Attention all Tristan and Danika fans!  Please share!!!

To celebrate the upcoming release of the conclusion to Tristan & Danika's story, Bad Things, the first book in the series, will be on sale for $2.99 for a limited time.  If you have any friends that haven't read the series, or have been waiting for all three books to come out to start it, now is the perfect time, as Lovely Trigger will go live in just one week!  Spread the word! <3

Here is the series order:

Bad Things(Tristan & Danika #1) Available now!




Rock Bottom (Tristan & Danika #2) Available now!

 

 

 

 

 

Lovely Trigger (Tristan & Danika #3) Coming March 11th!

Just a quick note on perspective. And, well, Cancer. The C-word. Yeah, I said it.

Just a quick note on perspective.  And, well, Cancer.  The C-word.  Yeah, I said it.  Not the hilarious one that I use to describe my closest girlfriends and worst enemies, no, this is the not so fun C-word.    

 

Okay.  This is not an easy  subject for me, but here it goes.  Several months ago, I found a lump in my collarbone.  It wasn’t that big, or really that alarming, but I noticed it.  Here is the part where I have to tell you(because it’s true, and he deserves some props here)that my wonderful husband actually made me a doctor's appointment himself, in fact tried to force me to go, and was distraught when I flat out refused.  

I canceled that appointment and said NO (yes all in caps).  Why?  Because I was busy.  I was working on a book that I have to say I was obsessed with, and by the way that I love, and we were in the middle of traveling to some really amazing places to meet even more amazing readers.  

And also, it should be noted, I put it off because I honestly believed it was nothing.  I am thirty-four years old, and go to great lengths to stay healthy.  I am best friends with my elliptical, and I drink shitty liquid kale concoctions on a daily basis.  I’m not telling you this to gross you out, but to illustrate that I am in no way at risk for cancer.  Not at all.  I won the lottery here.

But back to the point.  Months later, I still had the lump, but it was slightly bigger, and sore to the touch.  The soreness, I don’t even know why, alarmed me more than the lump, and I finally had it checked out.  

So long story short, I went to the doctor after my last book came out, and was diagnosed with a rare malignant sarkoma.  The chances of getting the type of cancer I had are literally 1 in 1,000,000, and the chances within that million are 2-5% of it being malignant.  I should be headed to Vegas folks(in fact Me and Mr. Lilley did head to Vegas for a few days after I was diagnosed, to cheer me up) because I beat all the odds, and that little lump was both.

My response(after hugging my kids really really hard for a very long time) was to handle this aggressively but quietly.  Very quietly.  I don’t know why, but when I heard that I had the bad C-word, I wanted to tell as few people as possible.  And I did.  It never occurred to me to share the information far and wide.  I very quietly took care of it.  Scared shitless, I went through tests, and surgery, telling only a select few about the entire mess.  Portions of Lovely Trigger were literally written in waiting rooms in hospitals.  

The good, no, great news is that the surgery was a success, and after they cut out the growth and the tissue around it, my margins came back clean.  This means no chemo, no radiation.  In fact, unless it comes back, I am basically in the clear( Cue big huge party)  I feel unutterably lucky for that.  This was one massive wake up call, to be sure.    

But anyway, let’s skip back to my point.  I was talking to one of the few people I’d told, about my radio silence on the matter, and she presented this to me: “Why would you keep it a secret?  There’s an opportunity here, to help get the word out about early detection.”  

Needless to say, that made me feel like an ass.

And that’s why I’m writing this.  Early detection is everything.  It’s allowed me to keep my hair, and possibly my life.  No matter how healthy you think you are, if there is anything that’s worrying you about your body, some change that you can’t explain, go to a doctor.  If you have a question, at all, no matter how busy you are, just have it checked out.  Please.  There is nothing more important in life than your health.  

Much love,

<3 <3 <3 R.K.

Update for Grounded in Audio!

Okay!  Some audio updates:  

Grounded has been in production for what seems like forever! (trust me, it's driving me crazy too:)  but I've contacted the narrator, and she estimates that the audiobook will be finished by March 5th, and on sale soon after.

As for the Tristan & Danika trilogy, I've chosen narrators, and Bad Things will be completed on March 17th, with the 2nd and 3rd book following closely behind, as they will be produced back to back.  

Also, I've found the narrator for Breathing Fire, and that one should be completed in about a month, so lots of goodies coming your way soon:)

xoxo R.K. xoxo 

Mr. Beautiful Book Four: Up in the Air

Yes, this is happening!  Mr. Beautiful will be a male point-of-view novel for the Up in the Air series that tells the story of James, and Stephan, and their unwavering love of a woman that would make the two men family.   I do not have a release date for this book, but it will be releasing sometime in 2014, after I have completed the Bad Things trilogy.  Here's a little tiny taste:)

 

AN EXCERPT FROM MR. BEAUTIFUL

COMING 2014

WARNING:  THIS TEASER CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE UP IN THE AIR SERIES

JAMES

I couldn’t sleep after the shooting.  

Bianca slept like a baby, like she never had before, like every worry she’d ever had had disappeared with the death of her father.  

But not me.  I was more restless than ever.  A miracle had saved her, not me, and I felt helpless because of it.  That was not a feeling that fit me well.  In fact, it made my skin crawl in discomfort.  In anger.  

It had been months since the attack.  She and Stephan were healed physically, and it seemed, emotionally, but I felt the wounds as though they were fresh.  What had almost happened haunted me.  I was a man that needed control, and I’d been shown, in the starkest way possible, that I had none.  

I sat scant feet away from our bed, watching Bianca sleep.  She was nude, with not so much as a sheet covering her.  I’d seen to that.  I watched her lithe form shift on the bed, one long leg hitching up to give me a glimpse of the pink between her legs.  

I felt like a fucking stalker.  Truth be told, I was one, watching her for hours on end, night after night.    

I tensed when I realized she’d roused.  It upset her that I couldn’t sleep, when she deserved peace more than anyone.  

She sat up, and I watched her heavy breasts swaying with the movement.  “James.”  Her voice was the softest utterance.

“Love,” I answered, feeling the dark mood that had overtaken me lift in an instant.  Just having her eyes on me could do that.  

She crawled across the bed toward me.  She’d always had an uncanny ability to do exactly the thing that would drive me the most wild, and she’d only gotten better at that over time.  She didn’t hide her body from me as she moved.  In fact, she posed for me, even the exposure of her body an act of submission.  As though reading my thoughts, as though even those were a command, she paused on the edge of the bed, parting her legs to let me look my fill before she rose, approaching my chair.  

I stood to meet her, my body drawn tight, my cock throbbing as though I hadn’t come, buried inside of her, just hours before.  

I was a statue as she leaned up to my ear, my brows drawing together in a question.  Her lips touched my ear as she spoke.  

“Hurt me,” she whispered raggedly.  

My eyes shut tight, my jaw went slack, and a shudder wracked my entire body.  This woman destroyed my self-control.  

I’d avoided all of the rough stuff since she’d been injured, but God had I missed it.

“We don’t have to, Bianca.  It’s not necess-“

She gripped my hair, pulling my face down to her injured cheek.  She dug her jaw into me so hard that I knew it must be hurting her badly. 

“I need it,” she rasped into my ear.  “I’ll never stop needing it.  Please.”

I pulled back, and my hands trembled as I cupped her face in my hands, my eyes searching hers desperately for what I wanted to see.  Need.  Yes.  She needed this as much as I did.  Perhaps more so.  

“Get on the bed,” I told her thickly.  

 

March 11th will be the release date for Lovely Trigger!

So I know it's taken me awhile, but I finally have a release date for Lovely Trigger.  I will have the conclusion to Tristan and Danika's hot mess of a love story to you on March 11th!  I am not doing a pre-order for this one, but I will likely have one for Mr. Beautiful around the time that Lovely Trigger is published.  

This trilogy has been an emotional journey for me, and not the easiest one to write, but book 3 is by far my favorite in the series.  I hope you're as happy as I am with the way things turn out for these two.  I simply can't wait for you all to read it:)  

On a side note, I'd like to apologize that I've fallen very far behind on my correspondence both in emails, and on Facebook.  I've been experiencing some sudden and time consuming health issues that I don't intend to let slow me down any more than they already have.  If I have not responded to anything you've written to me, please know that I deeply and sincerely appreciate all of the attention and kind words, and I will get to you just as soon as I can.  Thanks so much,

R.K. <3

COVER REVEAL FOR CROSSING FIRE!

Okay, so there's good news and bad news.  The bad news is I still don't have a release date for Crossing Fire (Heretic Daughters:  Book Two)  The good news?  I do have a cover and a little teaser for you!  Here it is:)

JILLIAN

It had always been clear to me that we had different songs playing in our heads.  My music was usually more of a death metal battle march that involved a lot of blood being spilt.  Dom’s…oh Dom’s music was something that a romantic Irish poet would listen to, whatever the fuck that might be.  He was a warrior, but I’d always known he had a poet’s soul.  There could be no denying that it was one of the things I loved most about him.  Still, it had always made everything hard.  It was so hard to be the other half of someone’s perfect love story when you were as imperfect as me.  I’d always known I’d fuck it all up.  It had only been a matter of time.

DOM 

It had always been as clear as day to me that it was fate that brought us together.  Our love was written in the stars as clearly as ink on paper, but I knew she couldn’t read it.  She was no star gazer.  And certainly no dream chaser.  Her feet were planted too firmly on the ground. 

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ROCK BOTTOM IS LIVE!!!

Here it is!  Rock Bottom is LIVE on Amazon!  

ROCK BOTTOM

BOOK TWO:  TRISTAN & DANIKA

 

Their love had the power of a runaway freight train, and the potential to be just as destructive.

The tempestuous sequel to Bad Things picks up where the first book left off.  Reeling from a profound loss, Tristan and Danika struggle to pick up the pieces and build a life together, but the hard habits of a lifetime are not so easy to escape.  

Rock Bottom takes us on a dual point of view journey through addiction and desire, through love and agony, and answers the question we’ve been asking since these characters were introduced in Grounded: “What happened between Tristan and Danika?”

 

DANIKA

Even love couldn’t cushion a fall like ours.  My love for Tristan was so big that I felt consumed by it, and even so, it was not enough to overpower our combined demons.

I struggled.  I yelled and screamed.  I scratched and kicked.  

I fought like hell, but even the most determined fighters have to stop before they break.  

No one could say I didn’t fight for him.  

“I love you,” I spoke softly into his ear.  

He gripped me harder.  “I can’t ever lose you, Danika.  I’m not sure I’d survive it.”  

“You’ve got me.  And I’m not going anywhere.  Not ever.”  

I meant the words when I said them, but life had other plans for us.

I’d have given my life for that fight.  In fact, I very nearly did.  

 

TRISTAN

She was the one.  

If I’d ever had a doubt, I didn’t now.  She was the one I’d be thinking about, longing for, until I took my last breath.  If I lost her tomorrow, I’d pine for her like a lovesick fool.  

This was the kind of love that only hit you once in your life. 

 

This book is intended for readers 18 and up.

 

Mr. Lilley and the things I am thankful for.

For my husband.    

My home does not exist as a location on a map.  It hasn’t for fifteen years now.  It exists in a person.  Yes, it is you.  You are my home, my partner in crime, my biggest supporter, and my loudest cheerleader. 

I am a caffeine addicted, sleep deprived, neurotic and obsessed writer with a sassy attitude who eats sarcasm for breakfast, and you love me anyways.   

I see the future because of you.  Yes, you are responsible for making me clairvoyant.  You can add that to the list of your many talents.  I see us together fifty years from now, holding hands and laughing our asses off at the world.  You make a joke out of everything, and it is my perfect balance.  I could easily be the person that takes life too seriously, but you wouldn’t put up with that shit for one millisecond.  I think, of all of the things I adore about you, I love that, and need it, the most.  You make me laugh, not just every day, but many times every day.  You make me a better person, and for that, I am blogging to the world and embarrassing the hell out of you.

Oh, did you think I was done after that?  Not a chance.  I still have many more things to thank you for.

Thank you for being an involved, present, and devoted father to our two beautiful sons.  There is nothing I value more in life than that devotion, that strength of character that you prove to me every day.  You’ve restored my faith in what a man can be for his family.  I never even knew what a real father was supposed to be, until you showed it to me with our beautiful boys.  

Thank you for never letting the M-word (MATH) within six feet of me.  Thank you for still quoting Arrested Development to me (and getting the joke when I quote it to you) years after the show went off the air.  Thank you for the thousand inside jokes that only we will likely ever understand.  

Thank you for making sure I don’t starve to death when I’m on a deadline.  Thank you for being a damn fine table helper.  Seriously, the best.  Thank you for being the person who’s opinion I value the most, and not being a dick about it.  

Thank you for being as nerdy as me.  It makes it so much more fun.  

I’m a romance writer, but you are by far the romantic.  There is nothing a woman needs more from her husband than to be adored.  I thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving me all of the adoration I will ever need.  I can write with authority about romance because you have taught me the very meaning of the word.  

Still not done.  

Thank you for putting up with all of my healthy cooking, and acting like you enjoy it.  Thank you for pushing me, even when I push back.  Thank you for sharing my need to see the world.  All of it.  Twice.  Thank you for dressing in theme with me and the boys every single Halloween, and partying at Mickey’s Halloween Party until they kick us out, every time.  

Thank you for giving me joy, and helping me to raise our sons in a house where they get to see us experiencing joy wholeheartedly and often.    

Thank you for being willing to just call somebody when something needs fixed, instead of trying to do it yourself.  Thank you for loving video games more than football (it is much easier for me to get into)  Thank you for letting me force you to watch weird anime that I think is hilarious, and letting me drag you to strange places just because I think it's funny.  

Thank you for being willing to ask for directions, because I would just wander around lost for days before I would do it.  Thank you for letting me pick all of the paint colors, and sleeping on a too soft bed with me because it helps my back.  Thank you for carrying all of the bags, and opening doors when I’m not too fast and beat you to it.   

Thank you for being ridiculously talented at carving pumpkins.  I swear this is a sign that we are soul mates.  Thank you for always sharing a meal when we eat out because you know how much I hate to waste food.  

Thank you for thinking it’s funny when I threaten to kill you in your sleep.  I’m almost always joking, I promise.  

Thank you for making sure we never, ever run out of coffee.  Smart man.  Thank you for getting me flowers every time you go to Costco.  They’re beautiful and never too expensive, which suits my frugal soul perfectly.  

Thank you for taking care of the new puppies.  Watching you play with those little white balls of fluff is just about the cutest thing I've ever seen.

And last but not least: Thank you for taking so much of the weight I bear in life on your broad, strong shoulders.  I couldn’t do any of it without you.  

Thank you.

Cover and Title reveal for Book Three!!!

I've sent Rock Bottom off to the editor, and am officially sinking my teeth into the third and final book of Tristan & Danika's trilogy.  To celebrate the upcoming release(Rock Bottom due out November 27th), I wanted to reveal the title and cover for book three, which you can expect in early 2014.  Drum roll...

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Just a few hours left to enter this giveaway for a $100 Amazon gift card!

The Facebook page has reached 11k likes, and as a thank you I am having a giveaway for a $100 Amazon gift card!  Oh yeah, and here is a HOT teaser from Rock Bottom (Tristan & Danika #2) due out in November(exact date tba)

<3 <3 <3

 

 

TRISTAN

I was shrugging into a dark blue T-shirt when I froze mid-motion, not quite believing my eyes.  

“There is no fucking way you are wearing that,” I told her, sitting down on the edge of my bed to watch her, equal parts pissed off and turned on at the sight of her.  

She was wearing tiny black cheer shorts that didn’t belong outside of a bedroom, and a black half-shirt that read ‘Fuck No’.  It left all of the skin bare from two inches below her naval to the top of her ribs, just covering her breasts.  She wasn’t even wearing a bra.  

My jaw went slack, my eyes glued to the sight. 

She didn’t have huge breasts, but they were a handful, and they were fucking perfect, soft and pliant in my hands, and when real tits went braless, there was no mistaking it. 

“Fucking no way in hell.”  

“I can’t wear a bra after the tattoo, and the half-shirt makes it so I won’t have to take off my top for the cameras.  Frankie told me exactly what to wear, and I’m wearing it, so wipe that Neanderthal look off your face.”  As she spoke she twisted her hair into a bun on top of her head, the shirt riding up, bearing the undersides of her breasts.

“Are you fucking serious?”

She rolled her eyes, completely blowing me off as she slipped into flip-flops.  

“It’s important for me to be comfortable and properly prepared, Frankie says.  If you can’t behave yourself, you are staying home.”  

“Are you fucking serious?” I repeated.  “I took a week off just for this, and you’ve had to postpone it for weeks, just so I could go with you.”  

“So behave yourself if you actually want to come.”  

I clenched my jaw to keep from arguing, counting to ten, my eyes glued to the front of her shirt.  

“Fuck No?” I asked her.

“Frankie says it’s a great way to let the censors keep you modest.  If my nipples are hard, they won’t pick it up, because they’ll already be blurring the word fuck.  She loaned me the shirt.”  

No shit, I thought.  It was clearly a Frankie creation.  

She moved to stand in front of me, hands on her sexy little hips.  I reached up, palming her breasts with both hands.  I closed my eyes, not quite managing to stifle a groan.  

“We’re already late, Tristan, and the camera crew is on a tight schedule.”

My eyes snapped open to glare at her.  I lifted her shirt that minuscule degree it took to bare her tits, cursing loudly and fluently as I leaned forward, framing her breasts in my hands and sucking one hard nipple into my mouth.    

“I’m going to pin you to that table when she’s done with you and fuck your brains out.”

She gasped, and one of my hands snaked down, sliding into the waistband of her shorts to finger her.  I yanked it out with a curse, using the leg of her shorts instead to ram my finger into her hard.  

“If I can get at your pussy this easy, that’s a good sign that your shorts are too tiny.”  

Her hips twitched, moving on my finger, and I went back to sucking on her nipple and working her on my finger.  

I waited until she was close and pulled away, extricating my finger slowly, teasingly.  “We’re late, boo.  Remember?  Tight schedule.”  

She glared at me, backing away.  

I grinned at her and winked.  

I could barely keep my eyes on the road as we drove to Frankie’s tattoo parlor, glancing over at her every time she shifted on her seat. 

She was jittery with excitement, and every movement, every twitch of her body was distracting in that barely there excuse of an outfit.  

I fondled her with one hand until she moaned, trying to push my hand away.  

“Quit teasing me,” she complained.  “I don’t want to be turned on right now.  It’s going to be hours before we can do anything about it.”

“Well, tough shit,” I told her, sending her a sidelong smile.  “You know what that outfit is?  It’s a tease.  You’re only getting what you’re dishing out right now.”  

She lifted her shirt, and my hand was suddenly kneading at her bare skin. 

Fuck

I glanced over.  

She was folding the band of her shorts down, making them even tinier, and pulling the waistband open wide.  She grabbed my hand and slid it down her body, cupping my hand over her sex, shifting until she could force one of my big fingers inside of her.  

I yanked my hand away, and refused to look at her for the rest of the drive.  As always, she’d won the teasing contest.  She was the uncontested champ.  

I should have known better than to go there.

I put my arm around her like the overprotective boyfriend I was as we walked through the casino, glaring at every asshole that stopped to stare at her.  

“Fucking pinning you to that table as soon as she’s done.  Going to fuck until we’re both fucking raw,” I muttered under my breath, making her giggle.  I wasn’t even close to joking.  

She tried to hug Frankie when she we got to the shop, but I got in between them, giving Frankie a pointed look.  “You talked her into wearing this, but you sure as hell aren’t feeling her up while she does it.”  

Frankie just laughed.  

Danika punched me in the shoulder.  

I stood back, arms folded across my chest as the TV producer did a brief interview for the show about her tattoo.  She blushed and giggled and told a little story about how she’d always loved cherry blossoms.  

She was adorable, and I was counting the seconds until I could fuck her brains out again.  

They did a lot of closeups of the spot on her back where the ink was going.  Frankie held up a square of paper that was about three by five inches, illustrating exactly where and how she planned to place her precise sketch of a cherry blossom branch, left of her spine, the top ending right where her shoulder blade started.  It was beautiful, as I’d known it would be.  Frankie’s work was always excellent.

I stood at Danika’s head, holding both of her hands for hours while Frankie worked, wanting to punch each member of the camera crew nearly every second of those hours.  

The work was slow and fascinating.  Watching Frankie work was always a treat, but watching Danika’s lovely back becoming even more exquisite with an intricate piece of art was an experience.  

And of course it turned me on.  

Danika took the pain well.  I’d crouch down to check her expression, and only occasionally were her eyes squeezed tight with pain.  Mostly, they were clear, and excited about seeing the results.  

I took down her hair, and stroked it, and even bent down to kiss her face when Frankie took the needle off for brief breaks while she switched ink, or wiped the area.  

The final result was well worth the wait, and the pain.  Dark branches were painstakingly detailed, and ended in pretty blossoms that went from myriad shades of pale pink, to magenta, to a bright red.

It was a feminine tattoo, perfect in every detail, just like its owner.  She squealed in delight when she finally got a good look at it.  

    “Give her some privacy while she gets dressed,” I snapped at the crew when Frankie was finally done.  

Frankie shooed them out, following behind.  She gave me a rueful smile before she shut the door behind her.  “I’ll blast some rock so you can have some privacy.  I’d recommend you lock up after me.”  

I locked the door, moving back to the table.  Danika was already on her stomach, lying down, so all I had to do was twist her until she was sideways, her hips at the edge of the table, her feet not quite touching the ground.  

“Get up on your elbows,” I told her, tugging off her shorts.  

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” she said breathlessly, raising up just enough to give me access to her chest.    

“No one can say I didn’t give you fair warning.”  

“Frankie knows exactly what we’re doing in here.”  

No shit, I thought.  “Nah,” I said.  “You just needed a minute to straighten your clothes.”  

“I don’t have that many clothes.”  

“That’s the problem, now, isn’t it?”  I slid my hands up her ribs, palming her bare breasts under that joke of a shirt.  

I rammed into her, not stopping until my hips slammed hard against her.  

She screamed, gripping the other edge of the cushioned table.  

“Well, now she definitely knows what we’re doing,” I rasped, pulling out slowly.  I let go of her breasts, leaning back to watch my cock slide out of her slick entrance, cursing as her sheath gripped me tight, the curses turning into praise as I lunged back inside of her, hitting the end of her so hard it jarred us both, and she screamed again.  

I bent back over her, speaking into her ear.  “Did I hurt you, sweetheart?”  

“No.  More, Tristan, more.  Fast.  Please, please.”  

I closed my eyes, the sound of her soft voice begging me about all I could take.  

I was true to my word.  I pinned her to that tattoo table and fucked her brains out.  

I came so hard, my legs just about gave out, and I was shouting nearly as loud as she was screaming.  

“You like that angle, huh?”  

She mumbled something in the affirmative, laying her cheek on the table, looking like she was about to drift off.  

I cleaned us both up with paper towels from the bathroom that adjoined the room, slipping her shorts back on her.  

I had to pick her up and set her on the table to get her upright, and even then she leaned forward against me, her head on my shoulder.  I copped a feel, completely powerless to keep my hands off her bra-free tits.  

“Just remember, if you ever decide to wear something like this again, this is what will happen.  You won’t be able to get anything done, because I won’t be able to stop touching you for more than seconds at a time.”  

“I need a nap,” she said, sounding half asleep already.  

“I need inside of you again,” I said into her ear, already trying to work her shorts back over her hips.  

Copping a feel had backfired in a hurry.  My brainless cock had taken it to heart.  

I fucked her sitting up that time, leaning her back on her hands so I could watch her round breasts bounce with every jarring thrust, her shirt pulled up to her neck.  

Frankie knocked loudly on the door for that round, telling us to hurry up. 

I shouted loudly back for her to fuck off.

I pounded into Danika, growling, cursing, praising, all the while completely mesmerized by her naked chest.  Something about having just the tops of her shoulders covered, and the rest of her bare, was turning me into a sex-crazed maniac.  

Come to think of it, everything about her turned me into a sex-crazed maniac.

She moaned almost lazily as she came that time, squeezing me like a vise for torturous, drawn out moments.  

I shouted and came, laid her back on her elbows, spread her legs wider, bringing her heels up to the table, and hard again, I pushed inside of her.  

Again.  

She was so slick, so full of me, and I groaned and cursed and rutted mindlessly in her until my legs wouldn’t hold me for another second.  

I leaned forward on my elbows as I twitched and spurted inside of her, my face in her neck, and wondered if anyone would notice if we passed out on Frankie’s table for a few hours.   

“You better clean up after yourselves, you nymphomaniac horndogs!” Frankie was shouting on the other side of the door.  

Who knew how long she’d been shouting?  Not me.  

“I put clorox wipes by the door, lovebirds!”  she shouted, maybe five minutes later.  

I blinked, wondered if I’d been sleeping, and then studied Danika, trying to figure out if she was sleeping.  She was still managing to prop herself up on her elbows high enough not to lay directly on her fresh tattoo.  

“I hope she doesn’t think we’re going to use those to clean ourselves,” I muttered, trying to find the strength to stand up straight.  

“I think those are for her table that we desecrated,” Danika murmured, eyes still closed. 

“And the floor!  And the wall!  And everything else you touched in there!”  Frankie shouted.  

“How about you work on getting thicker walls in here, Miss nosypants?” Danika shouted back without missing a beat, her face still looking relaxed enough to be asleep.  

I couldn’t help it.  I laughed.  Even nearly unconscious, she could manage to dish out sass.

 

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In case you missed it. COVER REVEAL AND PROLOGUE FOR ROCK BOTTOM!

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I'm excited to share with you the COVER and Prologue for Rock Bottom (Tristan & Danika #2)  This will be the second installment in a three book series, and will release sometime in November.  I will have the synopsis and a more exact date for you in the coming weeks:)  Please sign up for the site's newsletter to get all of my book updates, including the upcoming release date for Rock Bottom, and notifications for all of my future book releases.(The sign up form is located on the homepage)

What else can I say?  I'm am in love with these two characters, their flaws, their strengths.  As I've said from the beginning, they are a train wreck, but still worth the journey.  I feel like the best stories, the ones that stay with you, are the messy ones.  They break your heart and mend it back together.  

One thing I can answer with certainty is that yes, this installment will be answering the big 'what happened to Danika?' question.  I've seen some pretty hilarious, awesome, totally out there, and even somewhat close guesses as to what it could be, but you'll just have to read the book to get all of the dirty details:)         

WARNING:  THIS TEASER CONTAINS SPOILERS IF YOU HAVE NOT YET READ BAD THINGS  

ROCK BOTTOM (TRISTAN & DANIKA #2)

PROLOGUE

DANIKA

I took a deep breath, my face buried in the most divine chest in the world.  I’d been awake for a while, but I didn’t even think about getting up.  I wasn’t sure If I was more wrapped around Tristan, or he me.  We’d gone to sleep clutching each other, and from what I could tell, neither of us had moved an inch.  

My leg was thrown over his hip, my arm around his side, a fistful of his T-shirt gripped in my hand like I was holding on for dear life.  I was lying on my other arm, enough weight on it that it’d gone numb, and still, I didn’t even think about moving.  

His arm was thrown over my shoulders, one leg pushed high between mine.  I could feel my own T-shirt riding up to my ribs, his hand gripping a handful of it at my back.  We’d been mirroring each other, clinging for dear life, even in sleep.  

I felt him stir, and I lifted my head to look up at him.  

His beautiful golden eyes were blinking, still blank from sleep.  I witnessed his transformation from sweet oblivion and into dawning horror as he remembered.  

I thought that might have been the worst thing about losing someone, that moment between asleep and awake, when you had to remember and accept the loss again, relive that moment when your life changed, and you lost something dear.   It had been just over a month since his brother’s funeral, and he was still reliving that horrible moment of realization every morning. 

Two days after the funeral, Tristan’s mother had asked him to leave her home and not come back.  As wrong as it was, it was clear she was placing all of the blame for Jared’s death at Tristan’s door.  I thought he’d taken the falling out well, considering all he’d been through, and I’d been confident that she’d change her mind after she made it out of her own grief, but so far she was holding firm in her pique.  It was a struggle for me not to get mad at her.  But I told myself, over and over, that she was just hurting bad, and that much pain could spill outward.  She loved Tristan, and so she would get over this.

Tristan had taken her rejection well, all things considered, but he needed me now more than ever, and I was determined to get him through this.  

He’d spent the past month basically glued to my side.  He still had his apartment, but he’d slept over at Bev’s house every single night since we’d left his mother’s.  He didn’t want to be alone for even a second, and I understood.  Solitude was perhaps a necessary component when dealing with grief, but I could not deny this man anything.

We didn’t go out, spending our days playing with the boys, and our nights watching re-runs  of Jerry’s all time favorite show, Arrested Development, over and over again, until we could quote the episodes to each other.  We’d make love, fall asleep, then make love again.  It was a time of comfort and distraction, of love and avoidance.  

To this day, I thought back on those days as the most bittersweet of escapes.  

His eyes shut tightly, and his lips sought out mine, seeking comfort through touch.  I gave it to him.  I was ready and willing to give him absolutely everything.

His fingers let loose their grip on my shirt, skimming up along my back, peeling it off me in a few smooth, swift motions.  His shirt received the same treatment from my impatient hands.  I rubbed my chest to his, as we made direct contact, skin on skin.  

He dragged off my panties while I dragged off his boxer-briefs, kissing every part of his body that I could reach, sucking his nipple hard into my mouth until he gasped and tugged me away, his hands in my hair.  

He slid his hands down to my hips, gripping tight.  He rolled onto his back, and pulled me up to straddle him.  “Ride me,” he told me gruffly, using those big hands to tug me into place over his erection.

I arched my back, using one hand to balance on his chest while the other guided him to my entrance.  I rubbed him there, letting him feel how ready I was, and just loving the feel of his tip playing over me.  

His hips bucked underneath me, pushing him in far enough to make me gasp.  “Now,” he growled, “I can’t wait.”  

I pushed down while he surged up, seating me to the hilt.  

My eyes closed, my head falling back as sensation overtook me.  

I stayed still, just enjoying that perfect contact, until his impatient hands tugged at my hips, urging me to move.  I circled at first, a teasing motion that had him gripping my ass and moaning.  

I bit my lip and worked into a rhythm, rocking back and forth, back and forth.  

He brought one hand up, kneading at my breast, his other sliding up my thigh, going unerringly to my clit, rubbing in a circle that brought me to the threshold of release deliciously, leisurely.  

Those magic hands never missed their mark.  

“Please,” I cried, quickening my pace.  

He worked me faster, and I froze and shook like I had a fever, letting the waves of rapture take me.  I felt him jerking inside of me as I came back down from that addictive high, his face arrested in his own gratifying release.  I loved to watch him come, and I held as still as I could, impaled on him, until his eyes opened, and he blinked up at me.  

I folded down to lay against him, burying my face in the side of his neck, breathing him in.  

He always smelled divine.  Like home.  

“I love you,” he rasped out.  He said it all the time.  He didn’t hold it back, now that he’d admitted it, but it still gave me butterflies, every single time.  

“I love you,” I spoke softly into his ear.  

He gripped me harder.  “I can’t ever lose you, Danika.  I’m not sure I’d survive it.”  

“You’ve got me.  And I’m not going anywhere.  Not ever.”  

I meant the words when I said them, but life had other plans for us.

I was, by nature, a fighter, and no one could say I didn’t fight for us.   

I’d have given my life for that fight.   

 In fact, I very nearly did.  

 

 

AUDIOBOOK GIVEAWAY!

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To celebrate the release of In Flight in Audiobook format, I'm doing a giveaway!  One winner will receive an Audible copy of the In Flight audiobook.(And if you already own the audiobook for In Flight, or you want to buy a copy before this giveaway ends, I will gift the winner the Audible book of their choice:)  Share, share share! <3

Audible from a desktop.  Search for In Flight from a mobile device.