Happy Friday the 13th. If you're feeling a little naughty, ready to live a little on the edge, then I have the book for you. In this case, you CAN tell a lot by the cover.
I wrote MASTERS FOR HIRE off of a random question from the bestie. You know the kind, one of those rhetorical queries you ponder to test your character without really risking your reputation in the process. They did this once in the holy circle of THE BREAKFAST CLUB, where Andrew was asked if he'd go to school naked if he was properly compensated.
Sex and money. It always comes down to those two things.
When my bestie asked if I would ever consider hiring a male escort, I gave it legitimate thought. So much so I had to write an entire book about it.
If I were single and I had money and opportunity, would I contemplate ordering a lover for hire?
Honestly, the idea had a certain appeal. Imagine getting exactly what you wanted with no strings attached. You don't have to worry about rejections or complications. Just a hot guy and a few hours of anything goes, no judgment.
I found websites where men were offered up like the newest fashion top. Hunky men who would offer their companionship in exchange for a few Benjamins.
You weren't paying for the sex, not technically. You simply paid them for their time. What happened in that time frame was up to the two consenting adults involved in the transaction.
I found an old Showtime series that went into lascivious detail what those transactions often looked like. Sex was very much on the table, no matter the legal loopholes. I don't recall one interaction that didn't end naked. Many of these shows undermined the idea I was forming in MY head, which was a lover you could pay to be what you wanted and who you wanted, and you would get everything you wanted out of the deal.
Instead their version of the story was a little seedier and more pornographic. The "reality" of it left me feeling like I needed to take a shower.
And it's not like I have anything against sex work. But it was clear that the men who were fulfilling the needs of these women still considered it work to fulfill their desires. I found that quite the turnoff. In fact, it defeated the whole purpose.
I wanted to hire one of these men just to pick their brains about the job they did, but my husband nixed it.
So, instead, I created the world I wanted with the kind of man I thought might be worth hundreds of dollars an hour. He's Irish, of course. An alpha, certainly. Mysterious. Handsome. Romantic. Passionate. Talented. Intense.
All the boxes I'd certainly want checked if I were the gal footing the bill.
Best of all, he knows how to make his customer feel like her money was well spent. Her complete satisfaction is his number one desire.
Truthfully, my MASTERS trilogy goes so much further than any of my other books. I was recently asked what my "naughtiest" books were and MASTERS wins, hands down. Book three even has a MFM threesome starring two of my naughtiest boys. I go there because I can. Because this kind of story gave me room to explore the darker recesses of human desire.
Set securely in my GROUPIEVERSE, these characters keep popping up to play around in other novels, most recently in THE DUKE TAKES A BRIDE, where Devlin even contributes to a royal wedding. And Caz Bixby, my sexiest scoundrel, is making waves with duchesses as he eyeballs princesses in need of his unique set of skills.
If you're up for the challenge, come play in the MASTERS sandbox. You may get a little dirty, but you won't have have to break the bank for it. For today only, book 1 - MASTERS FOR HIRE - is completely free.
As you may (or may not) know, I turned the Big 5-0 back in November. I decided to make Year 50 full of fabulousness that honors all the years that contributed to me being me, filling my year with lots of my favorite things. One of my favorite ways I've done this so far - just on a geeky, OCD I Love My Lists kind of way - was creating YouTube Playlists.
It started with my Birthday Playlist, which I created to play in the background of my intimate family birthday party. It's no question that music has played greatly into my life (and still does,) so I got this wild hair that I would create a playlist that plays one song from each year of my life. I researched all the Billboard lists from 1969 on, picking a song that I either loved, or was reflective of the era, (preferably both) to take the fam and me on a musical odyssey Through the Years (and that was what I named the playlist.)
Turns out it was such a hit, not just for me but for my fam as well, who got some insight into my taste and the music I loved, as well as introduced to the 70s and 80s culture, that I decided to keep going. Once I got to the current year, I started over again with one more song from each year (which was a little harder the second time around, I won't lie.) This kind of forced me to be a little more creative, which I love. I'm working next on a Through the Year - Favorite Videos list, which I'm not going to be as religious about with only one song per year, because it's video and some years between 69-78 don't have them and some years I didn't really have video favorites, while some years I can't really choose between a handful of great ones I can't bear to leave off the list.
All of this put a bug in my ear to do a TTY list for all of you, featuring all the music that has driven my writing. I wanted to start this in February, since I always like to do heavy promotional stuff in February. Over the next month I'll be sharing this list daily (hopefully, cuz, y'know - life,) and over the month I'll be doing free books and all kinds of goodies, like Amazon giftcards etc that will be directly related to the information provided on this list.
Basically, there will be a test. But I'll make it totally worth it. ;)
ANYHOO.. we'll get this started right where it started: at the beginning... in the 1960s.
One of the earlier influences, literally, came for one of my earliest books. I always had a love/hate relationship with Country Western music due to its prevalence in my childhood. My parents LOVED Country/Western music (which, you should understand, looked a LOT different than today's Country.) It was twangy and COUN.TRY, and I (mostly) rejected it as my parents' music.
From a very early age I preferred things with a more rock feel, so much so that initially I didn't like the song The Devil Went Down to Georgia, because I felt like it was reinforcing this idea that rock music was inherently evil. I rejected that as a nine-year-old. I reject it now. But there were some songs that got through my Rock Snob filter, and one of them was from Patsy Cline.
Technically I think the reason it got through was that it was written by Willie Nelson, and he's just cool no matter what type of music you like. But this song is the epitome of unrequited love. It's a theme I have explored at length in my books, so I leaned on it heavily to create a mood for UNDER TEXAS SKIES.
I initially came up for the concept for UTS in the 1990s, which was when I started to write it. As a lifelong reader of romance, I explored all the tropes I had come to love as I pieced together my story. There was the angst of not knowing if the person you loved loved you back (because I'm a freaking scholar in such things.) I made their relationship contentious because I personally dig the fight for power between two strong characters. I grew up loving the rogue-vs-the-stubborn-good-girl and wanted to bring that to life in this story, complete with a marriage of convenience AND surprise baby. I threw it all against the wall because I really wanted to write a romance honoring all those books I grew up loving.
I finished writing it as the 20th century wound to a close, and tweaked it later for publication. It's a one-off in that it resolves in the first book, but I did bring a character from this book into the Groupieverse. Not so ironically, it was the one who sang Patsy Cline's iconic tune at the ill-advised wedding:
Imagine dancing close with a sexy someone that you can only love for a moment, where forever isn't guaranteed. That's what this song meant to me and to my protagonist, Jessica, and that's what I wanted to bring into the scene.
Enter Patsy Cline/Willie Nelson.
We also had to reach into the 1960s for the next little ditty. I say we because honest to God, it wasn't me doing the reaching:
Here's the thing about writing, at least for me. It comes with a LOT of discovery in the process. I can outline every sentence and every letter, but eventually - particularly if I've done my job right - those characters will take shape and live and breathe and often tell me their secrets in beautiful and surprising ways.
For those who don't know the story of this book, it all started because my bestie asked me the moral hypothetical question: Would you ever hire a male escort?
I think I may have balked initially, but it was brief. Instantly I started to think about it. Can you imagine hiring a person to do everything you want them to do and having them ACTUALLY do it? Any scenario you want to play, any service you want performed - you could have it all, no questions asked, no strings required, IF the price was right.
That's got a certain level of appeal, rather than tossing the dice on regular guys who quite often don't understand what you need and don't care enough to find out. My past is littered with disappointing encounters because in our culture quite a few guys are conditioned to believe that their pleasure is paramount. In my lifetime, we've watched sexual culture change from women begrudgingly performing wifely duties to women both liking, pursuing and owning their own sexual satisfaction.
Women are no longer giving in to their spouse because men like it more than us and if we don't want them to stray, we have to keep them happy. We've come to the place where we can love it every bit as much and pursue it every bit as freely.
Unfortunately this still comes with some cultural backlash in many circles. Sadly the concept of slut is still alive and well. So, when the bestie asked me this question it became something I really wanted to explore from the female perspective. I didn't want a whole Pretty Woman thing, where the "lady of the night" was trying to find true love. I wanted a story where a wealthy woman wanted to get hers and was surprised by love along the way.
Instead, I was the one who was surprised by Devlin Masters, the male escort who wedged his way into my protagonist Coralie's life and made all her dreams, seemingly, come true.
When I started, I didn't know much about Devlin beyond the fact he was Irish (as in, born in Ireland and has the Irish brogue) and he had a complicated history that brought him to his unconventional profession. I knew going into it that he would be behind the eight ball a little bit, with the scars to show for it. But I had NO idea the details that would flesh him out into an interesting 3D human until they just happened to be in a hotel suite complete with a piano and the guy sat down on the bench and expertly played this for Coralie's best friend, Lucy:
My honest-to-God reaction was, "Oh, you're a pianist! Look at you!"
Honestly, Devlin had plenty of surprises up his sleeve that included LOTS of music (including classical!) You'll be seeing his influence in the coming month, including one of the coolest writing song moments of my entire life - but we'll get to that story later. Stay tuned. (It WILL be on the test.)
The last song from the 1960s is from the I was born, 1969, and technically kicks off our Through the Years - Writing Edition. You can't be a sixties baby girl from Texas and not be influenced in some way by rock goddess Janis Joplin. And I totally was inspired by her and her famous diddy, which absolutely brings out the frustrated wannabe singer in me:
Normally I write about sexy rocker boys. It's a preference and I'm quite shameless about it. But this song helped me create a SOUTHERN ROCKER CHICK in Lacy Abernathy, who was born with rock and roll in her soul.
We meet Lacy initially in SOUTHERN ROCKER BOY, where she is the tough as nails rocker bitch that our protagonist Jonah finds himself drawn to. This country boy finds himself on a big music stage in Austin with this reluctant star, who doesn't want people to tell her what to sing or what to wear... she just wants to perform because singing is life to her. He was never supposed to be part of the plan, and doesn't take it too well when she finds her professional life tied with his.
Because I was exploring the concept of "Three Sides to Every Story: His Side, Her Side and the Cold Hard Truth," we don't find out what has made her so hard around the edges until Book 2, which some folks might skip because they think it's the same story in SRB but from her perspective. (It isn't, at least... not until the last third of the book.)
To be quite honest with you, SRC is one of my favorites of all of my books.
I mean, they're all my favorites to a certain degree, but when I read SRC I feel like I'm reading all the books I grew up loving, kind of a mix between Danielle Steel and VC Andrews, both of whom I read like a maniac as a YA. Their influences are strongly felt in SRC. It honestly breaks my heart more people haven't read it or lightly skip over it, because I love Lacy and going on her journey with her was one of my favorite writing experiences.
Which is kind of true of so many of the books we're going to talk about in the coming month. Those books where I have definitive soundtracks are my most unsung.
Welcome to February, folks. I'm about to start singing. Follow along and check out my official Facebook page for upcoming details how to earn a $100 Amazon Gift Card.
Late twenties. Old enough to know better, young enough to not care.
What stands out most about him?
He's built for your pleasure, a chameleon who can change to fit your every need.
Nice guy or douche?
That is the question, isn't it?
Favorite moment with him?
Okay. So. This story came about after my bestie and I were talking like besties do. He asked me if I would ever pay a guy to have sex. I was raised in the conservative South, around the first few notches in the heart of the Bible Belt. Paying for something as salacious as sex is strictly forbidden... and as such, deliciously taboo.
So I gave it some thought. If I had the means and desire, *would* I pay for sex? Could I pay for something that would ultimately mean nothing, except scratching some itch?
The more I thought about it, the more I could see why someone would. Instead of dating scores of men to keep yourself occupied, you could order what you wanted, when you wanted. When you needed. I'm sure I'm not the only woman who has pulled that slot machine handle and ended with duds more times than you care to admit. Maybe they're an ass. Maybe they're a basket case. Maybe they can't find he clitoris with two hands, a road map and a flashlight. Imagine just calling a number and a hot man shows up on your doorstep, ready to meet your every command. No muss. No fuss. No strings. He knows what to do and do it *well.*
Whether you call him once or a hundred times, there are no weirdo emotional commitments, just good ol' fashioned, red-blooded passion at your beck and call whenever you wanted it.
That sounded like a fun little playground for someone like me. I'm an Alpha Female. I like to be in control. I prefer the chase if I'm in charge of it, that way I know exactly what I'm going to get and what I can tolerate. If someone pursued me it'd freak me the fuck out, essentially turning the predator into prey. And I don't do "prey."
But with a Bad Boy for hire, he has certain rules to follow. MY rules. We can go right to the brink of danger and dangle our tippy toes over the line without any real risk.
I find that sexy. Having a man who knows what I need and is focused solely on giving it to me, SEXY.
Devlin Masters. Sexy. It's his job to be. And he's damned good at it.
Devlin shadowed me as I walked Gus and Lucy to the door. I stood waving after them long after they disappeared down the pathway and into the darkness beyond. Devlin finally reached around me to close the front door with one hand, which ultimately pinned me between the solid, hard wood of the door and the solid, hard wall of his chest. He leaned forward, towering above me, so close that I could feel the heat from his incredible body. His gaze swept over me, as if peeling away every inch of my clothes with nothing more than a look, before it finally settled on my face.
My eyes met his. This was where it got complicated, I knew. We could spend the rest of our night ‘talking’, but I hadn’t paid to talk. I could have had that with Oliver without paying one thin dime. I had wanted something more than that, and had for a long, long time. I knew it, and I suspected that Devlin knew it, too. He was, after all, a professional.
So what now? Did I take a green light for granted here, or what? Did I simply ask for sex? Or did wait for him to make a move? Did we talk about it, or just go at it like a couple of people might on a “real” date? The clock was ticking and I had absolutely no idea what to do next.
He answered my silent questions with a slow, confident smirk as he locked the door behind us with a resounding click. He leaned forward, his mouth so near to my skin I could feel his breath against me. My knees nearly gave way when he said, “Alone at last.”
I nodded, gulped hard and licked my lips. He chuckled a bit before he turned back to the living room, tugging my hand in his so that I would follow. “You should get us some glasses, Coralie,” he murmured as he reached for the bottle of champagne to uncork it.
I nodded dutifully and scurried around the corner to the kitchen, returning with a couple of cobalt blue champagne flutes. He shrugged out of his jacket as I perched on the sofa to pour us our wine. It was a wonder I didn’t spill it everywhere. I couldn’t wrench my gaze away from his body if I tried. Those broad shoulders… that solid chest…the promise of that bulge in those slim-fitting pants…and for the next couple of hours or so it was all mine, bought and paid for.
My pulse raced as he sat next to me, so close that I became intoxicated on the spicy, woodsy scent of his cologne. I was sure he could see my hand tremble when I handed him his glass.
Those sultry eyes rendered me mute as he stared at me. Finally he raised his glass. “To old friends and new beginnings,” he said in a voice so soft, it felt like an actual caress.
I nodded as I clinked our glasses together. I couldn’t tear my eyes from his supple mouth as he drank. Again, I drained another glass. I reached for the bottle, but Devlin leaned forward to grab my hand. “You’re not going to need that,” he murmured in a low voice that sent a shock wave to my core.
“I’m—I’m not?” I stammered.
He shook his head. My head was floating as high as a cloud as he took the glass from my hand and set it on the coffee table in front of me. He eased back against the couch, capturing my face with his hand. His thumb brushed rhythmically over my cheek as he stared down into my face. “I think I know what you want, Coralie. I definitely know what you need. The question is… do you trust me to give it to you?”
My eyes widened as I stared up at him. Slowly I nodded. I stared at his mouth as it descended towards mine, closing over my lips finally in a soft, sensual kiss.
What do you love about him?
He's powerful, which I find hot as hell. He can take what he wants without stealing it like a thief, because he knows how to make it something you want more than you've ever wanted anything. He'll command. You'll gladly acquiesce because he can mold himself into any fantasy. And he can assess that need in an instant, paying attention to all the details.
What do you hate about him?
He's secretive. He's jealous. His dark side is fairly dark and more often than not, his demons drive him. That's the thing about power. There is always price to be paid.
If you went on a date, where would you go?
Anywhere I fucking wanted.
Who inspired him?
Oddly enough, I inspired him. He's a Scorpio male, which fascinates me as a Scorpio female. I've never dated one or been intimate with one, mostly because - like I said above - relinquishing that kind of control to another person would be terrifying. So instead I gave him all of my qualities, good and bad, to have that experience within the safe confines of a book.
“Seriously, Lucy? Do you really want to risk your life this close to your perfect day by ingesting a poisonous bug?” I asked, making a face.
Devlin chuckled. “Scorpions aren’t poisonous, they’re venomous. They have to sting you to do real damage, and these bad boys aren’t stinging anyone anymore,” he said as he motioned for two shots.
I shuddered anyway. “Yeah, no thanks.”
“No stomach to try a delicacy?” he teased.
“Not even a little bit,” I assured him. Yet strangely, knowing he was willing to do so only made him more exciting to me.
Clearly I had gone over to the dark side.
“And how do you know so much about scorpions, mister?” Lucy asked him.
He shrugged. “Let’s just say the subject has always fascinated me. People are so scared of them, but really, they’re mostly misunderstood. Plus, I’m a Scorpio,” he added, which suddenly explained why he had a sexy tribal scorpion tattoo trailing across his lower abdomen, heading towards exciting places south of his waistband.
Lucy, who had already gone through her astrology phase, chuckled. “That explains so much. It also gives me an idea.”
“Should I be scared?” he asked her as the bartender placed two scorpion shots in front of them.
“Always,” she grinned. They toasted with their drinks. I had to give Lucy credit. She didn’t even hesitate as she threw back that shot, swallowing the scorpion whole with nothing more than a cough or two to choke it down.
Devlin, on the other hand, drained the shot but kept the scorpion between his teeth, laying it out on his impressive tongue before he chewed it like it was a mouthful of caviar. Our gaze never wavered and that smirk never faltered. He kept me close to him though I squirmed and shook my head when he reached for a kiss.
“Eww, no!” I giggled as I turned away.
“Come on,” he encouraged with that damnable smirk. “A dangerous kiss for a dangerous girl.”
“You’re dangerous,” I corrected.
Those eyes entrapped me once more. “And that’s what you love most about me.”
Who might play him in a movie?
I've crushed hard on James McAvoy since I saw Penelope years ago. My crush took a pretty big hit with the movie Split, which shifted my crush status to "it's complicated" - (not unlike Colin Farrell after Fright Night.) Suffice it to say, if you need someone with intensity that can fit into whatever role he needs to play... he is now an indisputable choice.
Do you have a special song that reminds you of him?
Devlin is full of surprises. It stands to reason. You buy a guy to fit your fantasy, you kind of lose him in the character. But Devlin is so, so, so much more than that. He let me know fairly early on he was a classical pianist, which surprised me as much as it surprised everyone else...
Lucy plopped herself down in front of the baby grand in her magnificent suite, and proceeded to pound out the most off-key rendition of chopsticks I had ever heard. It made all of us groan, but she didn’t care. Finally Devlin edged me off of his lap.
“I’m sorry, Lucy. I can’t let you do that to that beautiful instrument.” He waved her away before he took his place on the bench.
“You know how to play?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.
“I’ve tickled a few ivories,” he assured as he sent me a naughty little wink. He then cracked his knuckles, tossed back his hair placed his hands over the keys.
I don’t know what any of us were expecting him to play, but I am fairly certain none of us expected him to launch into a classical piece, Pachelbel’s Canon in D. The more surprising part was how well he played it. He started slow, to create the atmosphere, allowing the music to lift us all on this swell of emotion he created with each note. This was more than a rehearsed piece of music. This was a song from his soul. And it was simply beautiful.
Lucy, Gus and I stared between ourselves in stunned disbelief. Of all the things I expected to learn this week, finding out Devlin Masters was some kind of piano virtuoso was nowhere on the list. It shamed me instantly. I had begun to see him as one-dimensional because that was the nature of his business—but that was not the whole of the man. Not by a long shot.
I studied him as he played, as if watching someone else entirely. He held the proper posture, his back strong and straight, striking a commanding silhouette in front of the grand piano. His dark hair tickled his neck near the collar of his shirt as he subtly tossed his head in an unconscious response to the music. Those incredible eyes closed, losing himself in the piece as his strong fingers confidently struck every key. It was clear with the emotional depth he demonstrated in this impromptu performance that he was more deeply faceted than I had previously thought.
I had to wonder what other things he had to show me.
We were speechless when he was done. It took a full second or two for us to applaud, after which he said, “I really should get around to taking lessons someday.”
Inadvertently this opened my musical inspiration up big time throughout the series, introducing me to classical pieces I had never heard before. This one is probably my favorite, from a scene in MASTERS FOREVER.
But the song that stands out the most is the one that I struggled to find. After I found out Devlin could play, it became a no-brainer that he'd play a song for CC. But what would he play? I needed it to be affirming but not overly committal. He couldn't pledge his love for her by this early scene in their relationship, but I wanted him to express wonder at all she was. And if it featured piano, all the better. After some extensive research, I came up with...
This song inspires a couple of scenes in the book, the second of which reduced me to tears. Imagine someone saying that to you and really meaning it - especially if you've never really had anyone say that to you before. I literally sobbed, thinking this would be the romantic ideal. It touched my heart.
Here's where it gets interesting... a few months after I wrote this, my husband came home from work one day *insisting* that I needed to hear this song he heard on the radio, saying it reminded him of me in every way.
I'll let you guess which song it was while I go get some tissue...
Any "Easter Eggs" planted with this book boyfriend?
We've already covered several of the bases. He's a Scorpio, check. That song, check. That everything figures so prominently in Vegas, where I got married, check. One of the bigger issues I dealt with was the ridiculous nature of clothes sizing for "plus-size" women, and the whole nature of "plus-size" in general. I used some of my own experiences when it comes to shopping for clothes as a basis behind the argument, including some of the (smaller) sizes I've worn in my life, only to be corrected in reviews that this book couldn't have been written by a woman because these sizes would have made her HUUUUUUUUUGE.
Such is the chance you take planting such personal Easter Eggs I suppose...
Where can we find him?
We start our journey with Devlin in MASTERS FOR HIRE, which on sale today for only $0.99. That's the fairy tale romance version. It doesn't get down and dirty until book two, MASTERS FOR LIFE, which is where the fantasy falls apart. Finally, in perhaps my most erotic book ever written under my real name, everything explodes in MASTERS FOREVER. But the story doesn't end there. Thanks to Graham Baxter, Devlin earns his own place in the Groupie Universe, so they cameo in other stories, such as FULL-FIGURED FLOOZIES.
And it all starts with a bargain of $0.99 - which is a significant discount off of Devlin's hourly rate.
I may be biased, but I think he's worth every penny...
Because there's only one way to handle a demagogue...
We get by with a little help from our friends.
Get MASTERS FOR LIFE, the second book in my Masters series FOR FREE today only, and MASTERS FOREVER, the exciting conclusion, at a discount price. That means you can read the whole series for less than $5! (But buy quickly, Book 3 will go back up to regular price by the end of today.)
Enjoy getting to know one of my favorite characters of all time. He'll be around a while.
**Fair warning**
If you need a warning to read a book, this series is *definitely* not the one for you.
It's probably become crystal clear over the last two weeks that I write a variety of book boyfriends. Anything you want, I've probably written it - aside from maybe a true Dom in terms of the D/s lifestyle. That's not really my cuppa tea. What gets me off isn't so much a kink itself as much as it is the complications that inherently pop up whenever you give your heart or body away to another person. That's why the emotional connection is my main focus, rather than how Tab A inserts into Slot B. Or C. Or F. Or G. (Think about it...)
I write nice guys and I write douche bags. I have stable, one-women men and gallivanting, unapologetic manwhores. I have dominant men ready to take command, and easy-going men who provide unconditional love, support and encouragement. There's room for all, and I find all equally compelling for different reasons.
Since it's Walking Dead Day, I'll put it like this: If I can fall in love with both Rick AND Glenn, why limit myself to either? When in doubt, choose both! (Sometimes even at the same time... but I'm ahead of myself. You're just going to have to check out Book Boyfriend #13.)
Some are rich, some are poor. Some are best friends that fit just like a missing piece of a puzzle. Others are frustrating thorns in our side as we try to mold them into something worthy of a HEA. The best thing about my job is that I get to fall in love over and over again and it never gets old or stale, because I have virtually any guy I can dream of at the tips of my fingers.
It. Is. Awesome.
Well, last year I decided I was ready for a professional.
Devlin Masters is a male escort. A gigolo, if you prefer.
So when my best friend asked the rhetorical question of if I would ever pay for sex, my brain started spinning on all the complications and benefits that could entail. What if you could get whatever fantasy you wanted, no strings attached, provided by a super hot guy whose only focus in life is making you feel good? You didn't have to worry about rejection, or spend half the date dissecting whether or not he REALLY wants you, afraid to be yourself, afraid to drive him away, when all you want to do is jump his bones.
You go into the date with full permission that you can, in whatever way you want. It's literally his job to provide that to you.
How delicious.
So I created Devlin Masters. Like his name may hint, he's a commanding kind of guy. He's also a pretty big mystery from the start. That's what happens when a man has taken it upon himself to be a clean slate for every client. He can do anything, be anyone. Being honest about himself would actually prove counterproductive to the fantasy. Instead he becomes an expert in reading what his clients want or need and bringing it to life. A guy like this needs repeat business, after all. When you're charging $400 an hour, four hours is better than two, and a weekend is better than a date.
The only way to build his empire is to learn how to adapt himself, like a chameleon, to whoever is writing the check. After three years, he's pretty darned good at it.
“So tell me about this party.”
“It’s a fundraising benefit,” I started. “We’re raising money for children affected by neurological disorders, to help their families pay for the cost of care, and provide therapy and support. Friends of the family are hosting at my family home in Bel Air.”
“Sounds wonderful,” he said. “I assume it’s black tie.”
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“Do you have a dress already?”
I blinked in confusion. It seemed such an odd question. “I… well… I’m torn between two,” I finally admitted. And it was true. I really was. As much as I liked the one that Lucy found for me, I didn’t know if I could show up at the party in a dress that didn’t come from Cabot’s. It was a big deal.
“I can make that choice a little easier for you. What’s your size?”
I nearly choked on my saliva. Was this an insidious way to figure out what kind of heavy lifting he’d have to do on the date? “Depends on the store,” I finally replied.
“What are your measurements, then?” he persisted. It immediately set off warning bells. All this time I had pretended that his desire for me was a given, simply because he was getting paid to bring my fantasy to life. It never occurred to me that he would actually have to pretend to be interested. That took a little wind out of my sails.
I cleared my throat, suddenly very self-conscious. “It’s, um, 46/34/44,” I finally managed, feeling, for the first time in my life, embarrassed to answer the question.
That he hesitated didn’t help matters at all. “So, size 14, then?”
I cleared my throat again. “Like I said, it depends on the store and the designer. Thanks to…,” I swallowed hard, “thanks to my bust size, it can fluctuate between a 14 and a 16, possibly an 18 if they even keep the size in stock.”
I hadn't meant for it to sound as bitter as it did. Fortunately Devlin didn't miss a beat. “Did you have a particular color scheme in mind? Did you want classic or modern?”
“Whatever makes me look beautiful,” I answered in a near squeak. I almost—almost—wanted to add, “If such a magic dress exists,” but I stopped myself. Why I felt I had to throw myself on the grenade of his rejection was a mystery to me, as if making fun of myself first would make it hurt less if he did it. I hadn’t pulled such a juvenile stunt since I was in high school, when I tried to be the quirky, funny sidekick to Lucy’s pretty Queen Bee.
And why was I trying to impress him anyway? He was the one who needed the job.
He chuckled then, which took me by surprise, as if he could read my thoughts. “All women are beautiful if you just know where to look.”
It was out of my mouth before I could stop it. “That has to make your job a little easier.”
“Indeed,” he replied. “I tell you what. Send me photos of yourself in the outfits you’ve already purchased.”
“Why?”
“Because I have a few ideas how to make you feel beautiful.”
I couldn’t help but notice he said ‘feel’ instead of ‘look.’ There was probably a very good reason for that. “You don’t even know what I look like,” I pointed out.
“Hence the photos,” he replied, humor lacing his tone.
“You know, I’m not even really convinced that I can go through with this,” I started. He was quick to cut me off.
“Of course you can. Now send me your photos, Coralie.”
As you can see, Coralie Cabot, or CC as she's called, is another Rubenesque heroine. It didn't start out that way. Though I tend to write plus-size heroines, that's not ALL I want to write about. Sure their conflicts hit me right where I live, and I feel a certain responsibility to make sure their voices are heard, but - like my men - I like to shake things up every now and then. This is true of whatever size they are, as well. Whereas Shannon, from LOVE PLUS ONE was insecure about her looks, Andy from GROUPIE didn't give a rat's ass, and she was 4 sizes bigger. I like to write about individuals, and more often than not they reveal themselves to me as I write, often changing the very things I planned with such care.
This was CC.
Initially I was going to make her thin because I didn't want to have size play into it. This was a book about sexual fulfillment and empowerment. I didn't want to write a book that could EVER be mistaken as some overweight sad sack was so desperate for a man that she needed to pay one in order to get laid. We get enough of that bullshit in our culture. I'll be damned I'm going to further propagate it.
The more I got to know her, though, the more I realized that the real issue wasn't that she was fat or thin. She was unfulfilled because she wasn't inherently valued. Her whole life she had been painted into a corner, stuffed into an ill-fitting box because that made other people more comfortable.
The best way to convey this WAS to make her heavier, because there's no place that message is so strongly reinforced as in the media.
The Cabot family runs one of the biggest department stores in the country, leaders in haute couture. Being overweight presents a whole slew of complications when it comes to fashion, most notably when it comes to sizing. There's been a lot of focus these past several years about making more inclusive to a plus-size clientele, by using plus-size models and making sexier, hip clothing to fit those who wore sizes other than small, medium and large.
This made me question why there's even a separation there into such ambiguously named groups at all. If the average size woman is a size 14/16, then why are those numbers pushed as a "plus-size"? If that's the average, isn't that the medium? Why treat being those sizes in particular as if it's an anomaly? If anything, there's size average, petite and large. But to segregate those groups out like that is stupid anyway because what one store sizes at small, medium, large or plus is not universal among all stores in the first place.
Worse, sizes aren't universal. What fits in one store might not fit in another, thanks to the differences in design and production. If you're "plus-size," this problem compounds exponentially.
Once I put CC in fashion, there was no going back from making her a larger woman. The bigger sociopolitical comment here is that it's STUPID to value women based on their size because there's no universal standard there, not really. It's a system rigged to make us all feel bad about ourselves. When you feel bad about yourself, you accept treatment you don't deserve because you've been conned into believing that you do. It's a way to diminish us and we give them permission to do it by agreeing. There's something wrong with me. It's my own fault I feel bad. If someone's a dick to me, then *I* need to change so everyone around me will play nice.
Nothing hurt me worse than seeing reviews come in for this book by those who further disparaged the character for her size. If I remember right, one questioned if I was a woman at all, or even did my research, to make her the size I did. Apparently to this particular reviewer this was HA-YOOOGE and unrealistic, particularly that 46"-size chest. (Which is around her boobs by the way, not just her ribcage. As a size-22/24, MY undercarriage is 44" around, so thanks, I guess, for that all too important reminder that I'm gigantic. I just can't hear that enough.)
It does, however, prove my point. As you can see above, CC's measurements were ample and unbalanced. I made her top-heavy for a reason, to show how sizing is a bullshit standard to judge women, because there IS NO STANDARD in how our many different bodies are shaped. This is why sizing guides change from store to store. Consider Salma Hayek, whose measurements are 39-24-36. According to this chart, her hips put her at a size 4, her waist a size 0 and her bust a size 10. At Lane Bryant, her bust would put her in a size 14. Her official size of record? A 4. Because sure... THAT makes sense.
This is the size dysmorphia we all indulge in every time we delegate a woman's value down to a collection of measurements. Really, if you don't count her boobs, which were made to be bigger on purpose, just to further prove we women don't come in cookie-cutter proportions, CC's still on the small end of plus. So please think twice before you berate a character for being HUGE just because of a scary number. If you do research, you'll find most size-14s, with all those scary measurements (particularly in the 40"-range) don't look all that different from everyone else, and certainly not the kind of HUGE that would make someone highlight it for a review as unrealistic.
For the record I see CC as more the model in the middle, Elly Mayday, whose measurements are 37.5-29-43.5. CC is a bit thicker around the middle and has an disproportionate bust, but you kind of see how it fills in to be a little thicker than most the women we see in the media, but not some kind of ginormous freak who wouldn't exist outside of a side show. Let's be a little more generous to our fellow women, so we don't inadvertently make them feel lesser than because they're different. Their life experience/perspective has value, too. The great thing about a book is we can try on someone else's skin and share that perspective. It should teach us all empathy, but sadly that is not often the case, particularly when it comes to how women are viewed in media.
Christina Hendricks, one of the few actresses allowed to be an unapologetic size-14, comes in at 42-30-39.
I personally don't think there's anything undesirable about her.
This is the story that CC informed me we'd tell. In real life terms, CC is fairly "normal" - if there is such a thing. A little heavier, sure; she definitely doesn't fit into many of the clothes her store sells. And it's because of that, father AND her boyfriend - the people who should love her most - expect her to change to fit in.
By the time the story opens, this isn't going so well... hence her need to find someone who can listen to her and meet her needs specifically. Because she's not some desperate sad sack, she decides to take control of it by using her wealth to order exactly what she wants... just like a cheesecake.
“How long have you been an escort?”
Another grin. “Long enough to know better than to answer that question. So you lived with your best friend. What was your social life like beyond that? Did you date?”
It was my turn to chuckle. “I maintained a 4.25 GPA. There was no time to date. Besides, Lucy was always better at that kind of thing than me.”
“And why’s that?”
I shrugged again. “I just had other priorities.” He let a beat pass, so I found myself expounding. “I guess I was kind of like the den mother. I wanted to keep the place clean. I wanted to maintain the bills. I was the one picking up empty bottles and dried vomit, while Lucy was the belle of the ball.”
“Were you bitter about that?”
“God, no,” I said at once. “Some of us are meant to be Queen. The others merely resign themselves to serve. I guess because I had been thrust into the nurturer-caregiver role as a teenager that it was just more natural to me to take care of things, maintain them… keep them running as smoothly as possible. That’s my comfort zone, I think.”
“Comfort zones are pretty restrictive,” he commented. “Didn’t you ever want to just break free and do your own thing, your way?”
I met his gaze directly. “Why do you think I called you?”
His smile broadened. “Good answer.”
Needless to say, I had no illusions going into this how much sex would play into this courtship. This is not an all-ages romance, not by a long shot. My biggest fan, Steven's grandmother, has begged and begged me for new books, but there's NO WAY I can introduce her to this series. This is about fulfillment, starting with her very basic need for intimacy. This is the kind of relationship created to start - and stay - in bed. But a weird thing happens when you get your needs met by someone whose sole focus is to make you feel like a queen...
You can't get enough, and pretty soon "just sex" isn't enough.
After their first date, she calls him again to accompany her in Vegas for a week while her best friend elopes. Devlin has a pretty good idea by this point what our fair CC wants to get out of the week. She wants a fairy tale so much she's willing to pay $25,000 for it. And Devlin is prepared to earn every single penny twice.
His mouth landed on mine for a deep, urgent kiss, as if he didn’t give one damn if anyone else saw. I felt his body respond, and my knees wobbled as I swooned against him.
When the elevator bell dinged, I practically threw him inside. It had been a great night, but it was definitely time to get our special party started.
Devlin must have felt the same way, because we were alone in the car, he pushed me up against the wall, his hand between my legs in an instant. “Devlin!” I protested with an embarrassed giggle as I looked around for security cameras.
“Anytime, anywhere,” he reminded. He then proceeded to make me come hard by floors 3, 15 and 27. I could barely walk by the time the doors finally opened and we walked the remaining distance to our private room. I gazed up at him with dazed eyes as he fit the key in the lock. It made me feel far drunker than I had felt all night despite the river of alcohol I’d consumed. Indeed, it might have been the champagne catching up to me. But it was probably the multiple orgasms. Either way, the night was off to a promising start.
After he opened the door, he turned to me with that heart-stopping look in his eyes. He pulled me to him, taking my breath away before he planted yet another scorching kiss on my mouth. “Are you ready, Coralie?” he murmured against my lips, tugging and toying with them between his teeth.
“For what?” I asked breathlessly, though the question was moot. I would have done just about anything at that point. I needed him so bad it hurt to breathe.
“The best fucking week of your life,” he answered before he swept me into his arms kicked the door shut behind us.
So... yeah. There's a lot of sex in this book. Of all the books I've written, this series most qualifies me for erotic romance. The sex scenes are shameless, getting more graphic than I normally describe in my books. There is language. There are sex scenes that push the boundaries of acceptability. In fact, the way I approach sex at all in this book is unconventional, particularly the idea of fidelity. If you're the kind of person who considers it "cheating" if, after the couple meets, there is sex with other people, I wouldn't think a book about professional escorts and sex for hire probably would be your cup of tea anyway.. If it is, I'll be frank. There weren't a whole lot of boundaries I wasn't willing to push with this one, particularly the cheating stuff, and the sometimes gray areas how sex with others is defined. I made Devlin a Scorpio, because that's sort of the Holy Grail of Zodiac lovers. Though I've never actually been with one myself, I AM one, so I used that mindset accordingly.
We stayed downtown most of the evening, eating $0.99 shrimp cocktails, listening to live music and trying our luck in several of the casinos, including one that still accepted and dispensed coins. Lucy was beside herself.
Now that the stress of the wedding belonged solely to someone else, she was able to let loose and have some fun. She wanted to sample a little bit of everything along Fremont Street. I hopped off her bandwagon when she decided to order a shot of alcohol with an actual scorpion in it.
“Seriously, Lucy? Do you really want to risk your life this close to your perfect day by ingesting a poisonous bug?” I asked, making a face.
Devlin chuckled. “Scorpions aren’t poisonous, they’re venomous. They have to sting you to do real damage, and these bad boys aren’t stinging anyone anymore,” he said as he motioned for two shots.
I shuddered anyway. “Yeah, no thanks.”
“No stomach to try a delicacy?” he teased.
“Not even a little bit,” I assured him. Yet strangely, knowing he was willing to do so only made him more exciting to me.
Clearly I had gone over to the dark side.
“And how do you know so much about scorpions, mister?” Lucy asked him.
He shrugged. “Let’s just say the subject has always fascinated me. People are so scared of them, but really, they’re mostly misunderstood. Plus, I’m a Scorpio,” he added, which suddenly explained why he had a sexy tribal scorpion tattoo trailing across his lower abdomen, heading towards exciting places south of his waistband.
Lucy, who had already gone through her astrology phase, chuckled. “That explains so much. It also gives me an idea.”
“Should I be scared?” he asked her as the bartender placed two scorpion shots in front of them.
“Always,” she grinned. They toasted with their drinks. I had to give Lucy credit. She didn’t even hesitate as she threw back that shot, swallowing the scorpion whole with nothing more than a cough or two to choke it down.
Devlin, on the other hand, drained the shot but kept the scorpion between his teeth, laying it out on his impressive tongue before he chewed it like it was a mouthful of caviar. Our gaze never wavered and that smirk never faltered. He kept me close to him though I squirmed and shook my head when he reached for a kiss.
“Eww, no!” I giggled as I turned away.
“Come on,” he encouraged with that damnable smirk. “A dangerous kiss for a dangerous girl.”
“You’re dangerous,” I corrected.
Those eyes entrapped me once more. “And that’s what you love most about me.”
Here's the thing about Scorpios. They're as aggravating as they are compelling. Devlin has a code he absolutely tries to live by. It just doesn't look like anyone else's the more we peel the layers back.
In fact, there's much about this man that is an enigma, where he continually surprises CC with more than she could have ever imagined when she ordered a hot guy/masterful lover off the Internet.
Lucy plopped herself down in front of the baby grand in her magnificent suite, and proceeded to pound out the most off-key rendition of chopsticks I had ever heard. It made all of us groan, but she didn’t care. Finally Devlin edged me off of his lap.
“I’m sorry, Lucy. I can’t let you do that to that beautiful instrument.” He waved her away before he took his place on the bench.
“You know how to play?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.
“I’ve tickled a few ivories,” he assured as he sent me a naughty little wink. He then cracked his knuckles, tossed back his hair placed his hands over the keys.
I don’t know what any of us were expecting him to play, but I am fairly certain none of us expected him to launch into a classical piece, Pachelbel’s Canon in D. The more surprising part was how well he played it. He started slow, to create the atmosphere, allowing the music to lift us all on this swell of emotion he created with each note. This was more than a rehearsed piece of music. This was a song from his soul. And it was simply beautiful.
Lucy, Gus and I stared between ourselves in stunned disbelief. Of all the things I expected to learn this week, finding out Devlin Masters was some kind of piano virtuoso was nowhere on the list. It shamed me instantly. I had begun to see him as one-dimensional because that was the nature of his business—but that was not the whole of the man. Not by a long shot.
I studied him as he played, as if watching someone else entirely. He held the proper posture, his back strong and straight, striking a commanding silhouette in front of the grand piano. His dark hair tickled his neck near the collar of his shirt as he subtly tossed his head in an unconscious response to the music. Those incredible eyes closed, losing himself in the piece as his strong fingers confidently struck every key. It was clear with the emotional depth he demonstrated in this impromptu performance that he was more deeply faceted than I had previously thought.
I had to wonder what other things he had to show me.
We were speechless when he was done. It took a full second or two for us to applaud, after which he said, “I really should get around to taking lessons someday.”
With Devlin, you never know what to expect next. I expected him to be down and dirty between the sheets, but I swooned just as hard as she did when I found out he could play the piano.
“So what other songs do you play?”
Another shrug. “This, that and the other. Everything really.” He started to slowly play a popular Beatles tune that was fitting for the occasion. When he began singing “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” Gus and I joined Lucy at the piano so we could all sing along. It was a rousing little number that made Lucy clap her hands with joy. “Now you have to sing one for CC!” she announced before she plopped me down on the bench beside him.
He studied me for a moment, pursing his lips as he contemplated what song to sing. Finally his fingers landed lightly on the keys. I recognized the Bruno Mars song immediately as this gorgeous guy proceeded to sing to me how amazing and perfect I was, just the way I was. That he sang it well only ensured I’d never forget being serenaded like this for the rest of my life. I knew that he probably learned that song as a tool of his trade, to make all the ladies weak in the knees when he sang, so they’d feel even more wanted and desired.
That he sang about my eyes and not my boobs was a nice touch. “Always choose the one who notices your eyes,” Lucy had told me, which was good advice for a regular date, but didn’t really apply to a paid one.
It was still nice to hear, though, especially when he sang it right to me. When he punctuated the song with a slow, tantalizing kiss, I almost believed him.
I can't even HEAR that song anymore with crying because of the love story Devlin Masters delivered right to my door. That my husband dedicated it to me a little bit after I wrote it, not knowing the connection because I hadn't told him yet, only makes it that much better.
Some things are just meant to be.
And that is Devlin and CC, even though it's not your typical boy-meets-girl romance. He came into her life to show her something very special about herself. I know a little bit about how the world around you treats you like you don't count, because you're not what they think you should be. I know a bit about working twice as hard to be amazing in every other way, to make up for these "alleged" flaws. And I know a little bit about how it feels to finally have someone tell you, "Hey, I see you. And you're amazing." I know how hard it is to believe them, because you've been conned into thinking that there's something wrong with you and nobody would ever love that part of you that you've been conditioned to hate or find inferior.
By the second time I use that song in the book, I totally believed he meant every single word - so much so I had to stop writing so I could SOB like a NEWBORN BABE.
This is the romance that awaits you with Devlin Masters. In book one, MASTERS FOR HIRE, you get the full fantasy. The saga itself takes some interesting twists and turns, which we'll get to in our next blog, but when it comes to Book 1, it was all about the romance and the wish fulfillment for happily ever after against the odds.
We'll deal with Real Life when our couple gets back to Los Angeles, and a friend of his - who knows Devlin much better than CC does - comes along to jack everything up, including any idea of a HEA between our two blissful lovers.
For now, though... we'll swoon hard and long over Devlin, the truest manwhore I've ever written, since he actually got paid to sleep with a bunch of women.
But somehow... I forgave him.
For just ninety-nine pennies, you can find out if you will too. MASTERS FOR HIRE is on sale RIGHT NOW for a limited time online. The $0.99 price is live at Amazon and iTunes, and coming soon to B&N.
While I didn't have a casting choice for Devlin, I did have a prototype, thanks to one of my idols, Glenn Frey. In the mid-80s, he released an album called The All-Nighter. The title song is about a lover who knows exactly what women need and want, and to find this man would be a heady addiction. It may have taken me nearly 30 years to write him, but suffice it to say, Devlin has been percolating for a VERY long time.
(I plan to write a blog devoted to Glenn, and how devastated I was over his passing, but I'm still piecing my heart together over that one. All I can say is the Grammys better do him right. If they don't, by God I will.)
Many of you are already familiar with the origin of my new Masters Saga, the story about a young woman and the escort she hires to fulfill every last naughty desire. This unconventional romance, a sort of "Pretty Woman" in reverse, started simply with a thought-provoking question from my bestie, which is also a little how my story MY IMMORTAL came to life, but we'll talk about that in a sec.
First, I need to tell you about Devlin Masters and Caz Bixby.
Many of you have already met Devlin. He's that sexy lil morsel who gets paid $400 an hour to fulfill the lascivious fantasies of those women who have the means to pay him. He was a LOT of fun to write... a blank slate if you will. Like Coralie, I could mold him into anything I wanted him to be.
Well, in the first book anyway. As it so happens, that rascal had a personality all his own, and he was determined to tell ME who he was, starting with the moment he sat down to play the piano. That's when I realized there was a lot more depth, and potential, to this gun for hire.
See, the thing is... I wrote Masters as sort of a... protest if you will. My bestie asked me if I would ever hire an escort, sort of a hypothetical question to test my boundaries about sex. The more I thought about it, the more value I saw in hiring a guy for sex.
Crazy, right? Absolutely scandalous. But I'm being completely sincere.
I found it both titillating and empowering to write a story where a man is committed to the idea of feminine pleasure, since, unfortunately, in our culture such things are usually prohibited. If a woman exhibits any kind of sexual liberation, like a man, she is regarded as a slut, one whose value diminishes the more liberties she takes.
I have a problem with this, so much so that I live my life in such a way that it is almost absolutely impossible to slut-shame me. I'm quite open about how I feel about sex. I mean, obviously, right? That's how I make my living. I seek to empower women to embrace their own sexuality without shame.
To say that I have a problem with how our society treats women and sex is putting it mildly. I could (and kind of have) written a book on most of the topics that I want to challenge, such as the whole "virgin/purity = value," myth, the "physical perfection = beauty = happiness" myth. In MASTERS, I go after female fulfillment in almost all its forms, using sex as the driving force mostly because that is where we are most discouraged from being empowered and fulfilled.
I'm not writing sex just to write sex. I never do. Ever. There's a point. There's a reason. And the reason in MASTERS is one of empowerment, even when it would seem that my character is powerless. Sometimes you have to learn how much you will bend to know where all those boundaries are. These are important to learn, which is why sexual exploration is such a vital part of the human experience - for both sexes.
Yet sadly, particularly in heterosexual sex, that exploration is often discouraged if you're female.
The statistics say only 40% of women in reach orgasm as the result of casual, heterosexual hookups, as compared to the 75% or higher that men and lesbian women average. I talked a bit about it on Facebook yesterday, where I posted a link about the sexual myths that we need to stop teaching our young girls, chief among them is that when it comes to sex, women are here solely for the pleasure of men. Our pleasure is an afterthought, because we don't care about it as much.
Needless to say, the Masters saga turned into a tale of sexual awakening that dares to defy convention AND permission. And there are just no men on this planet more suited to teach this lesson than Devlin Masters and Caz Bixby.
You haven't met Caz yet, he's in Book Two, MASTERS FOR LIFE, available NOW.
This is not your traditional GV triangle. In fact, I really didn't know what Caz had up his sleeve when he sauntered onto the scene in Book Two. He's arrogant. He's an unapologetic douche bag. He's openly opportunistic. He doesn't promise wine and roses, just dirty sex and lots of it. In the beginning, it isn't even sexual desire that puts Coralie on his radar. Theirs is a painfully honest relationship from the jump.
Well, as painfully honest as one can be when one is an unapologetic, cocky, opportunistic douche bag.
As Coralie peels back the layers on Devlin, Caz is right there to cast doubt on every romantic dream that Dev tries to make come true for her. He's the one who puts a time limit on her happiness, predicting that everything she wants will fall apart before the book's end.
Whether he's right or whether he's wrong... you'll either have to read the book or have someone who did spoil it for you. I shan't.
What I can tell you is that the book was a painful turn for me in many ways, kind of forcing me out of my own comfort zone regarding sex, relationships, fidelity and true intimacy.
Suffice it to say, MASTERS FOR HIRE was the fairy tale. MASTERS FOR LIFE is much more brutally honest and realistic. As realistic as I get anyway. It is one of my angstiest books by a MILE.
This angst is necessary to get you to Book Three, MASTERS FOREVER, which has now been released for pre-order. There's a reason for this, which you will discover when you hit the last page of MASTERS FOR LIFE, ready to throttle me with how it ends. Honestly I have never been more nervous for a book series to publish - and I'm not just talking about Book Two. The entire thing could either propel me forward or drop me on my ass. My stakes are every bit as high as Coralie's herself.
Again, that's your only warning.
"The author has written a very powerful and angst-filled book that I honestly have never seen from her. This feels like new territory for her and I couldn't be happier. There are so many layers and so much at stake for our heroine, I'm beyond cautious as to how it will all conclude." - Amazon review from MJLovestoRead
Indeed, it is all brand new territory. I take the liberties given to me by the Erotic Romance genre all the way to the end, mostly because I really didn't have any choice. Devlin in particular kept me twisted into knots the entire duration of writing this story. Many people who don't write don't understand how these characters often take on a life of their own. They do and say stuff to surprise you on a regular basis, even when you know - ultimately - where they're going. All the little details, and a few big ones, often don't make themselves known until you've breathed a little life into them, allowing them to whisper their words into your ear and tickle your brain with all the possibilities of what could be.
Well, Devlin was indeed Devlish the whole way through. And then Caz showed up, and I was knocked about like a pinball, as dizzy and confused as Coralie herself. They tested what I believe about sex and gratification and feminine empowerment all the while trying to take it away at every turn. Yes... it's that kind of story. Coralie has to fight for that very thing she wanted from page one of Book One: to live life on her terms.
Dev and Caz test how far she's willing to go to get it, which is further than I personally have ever gone with my heroines ... EVER.
Why am I telling you this? Well, because I feel I can. We've gone through a lot together, from the angsty, Kindle-breaking GROUPIE saga, to the bittersweet and emotional FULLERTON FAMILY SAGA. I feel like you'll understand where I'm coming from. Or, you'll need to, the minute you finish Book Two. Through it all, we peel back the colorful, blinding layers of Oz that Dev painted in Book One, to realize that things aren't quite as they appeared to be. You're going to need a friend for this, someone who understands the pain and disappointment you're going to feel.
Basically you're going to need a hug. Every bit as much as I do.
Where these guys came from, I don't even know. But what they had to teach me was eye-opening.
I had made love with several men before him, but none had ever been able to make me come. They inserted Tab A into Slot B and if that was enough to get me there, great. If not, well that’s just how it worked for women. They accepted it. I accepted it.
Not Devlin. I came every single time we had sex. Every. Single. Time. Not just once or twice or randomly like a fluke. It wasn’t some mystery. It was biology. No one would ever think to touch every place on a man’s body but his penis and expect him to “get there.” Devlin knew just where to touch, just how to touch, and what the true objective for partnered sexual contact truly meant. The job simply wasn’t done until I reached the finish line, too.
He taught me to reach it. Expect it. Demand it. Just like a man. And now that I knew that was possible, I knew I’d never go back to settling again.
*****
Not to be outdone, here's some plain talk from Caz.
*****
“You know, you’re not half bad when you behave like a human being. Why do you have to be such a jerk, Caz?”
He huffed and puffed with exertion. “I have a reputation to maintain,” he replied with that shit-eating grin I loathed.
“Being an asshole work that well for you?”
He replaced the weights and sat up to look at me. “Look around you, CC. You tell me.” He grabbed my water bottle from my hand and unscrewed the cap, then guzzled it while his eyes studied my face. He handed it back to me with a grin, as if he knew what kind of intimate liberties he had just taken.
I shook my head. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Nope,” he announced cheerfully. “Why should I? The way I figure it, we’re all hedonists deep down. We all constantly think about the stuff we’re not supposed to, those things you’d never admit in polite company. But we all have those moments when we pass a stranger on the street and instantly wonder what it would be like to fuck them. We all have those moments where we talk to someone, and suddenly we fixate on their lips, imaging what it would look like on our bodies, or taste like against our mouth. We’ve all had that moment when we wanted to just have fun without consequences, like fucking a stranger you don’t even know, in every raunchy way you could imagine. So why not just do it? Take no prisoners. Make no apologies.”
I didn’t say anything, so he went on. “Sure there are people who, when they think these thoughts, feel like they’re some kind of weirdo. An oddball. A deviant. And a few are. But most of us are just normal human beings, hardwired to enjoy sex for pleasure. We’re supposed to want it. We’re supposed to love it. The problems only arise when we’re told we shouldn’t want it, or that we shouldn’t have it. That there’s something wrong with us if we love it the way that we do. It’s everywhere all the time, yet our society wants to pretend like it doesn’t exist. That it’s improper, or obscene. It’s all bullshit, CC. All this perceived purity? I’ve seen the truth every time someone paid me to fuck them. And the things they want to do,” he crowed with a chuckle. “We’re not pure at all. We just lump lust behind other, more obscene sins like wrath, gluttony, envy or greed, simply because that helps us sleep at night. Like we can forget we’re all animals deep down, happiest when we’re allowed to roar. Look at what happened to you. You can’t honestly tell me that you were happier when you were following all those bogus rules of propriety.”
I didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. “No.”
“There you go. If there’s anything I teach you in these next few months, I hope it’s that. Because that means so much more than how much you weigh or how you look. Some of the best lays of my life have been ugly women who just knew how to take what they wanted.”
I scowled at him. “Way to ruin a moment, Caz. Why do you have to be such a pig?”
He shrugged. “Just being honest, pussycat. But I can see how you might not be used to that.”
*****
So... yeah. That's Caz. Like I said, he's a cocky, unapologetic jerk. It was truly weird having him in my head for months on end. It only helped somewhat that I could use this sexy guy as the inspiration...
But I added equal parts Brian Kinney from Queer as Folks... so - you get what you get.
Are you scared yet?
You should be.
We're going down the rabbit hole with Coralie. There's a lot of symbolism in play to subtly (and not so subtly) wedge Coralie out of that restrictive "Good Girl" archetype where she doesn't belong. NONE of us do, not really, not in the way society has defined it at least. If you're reading naughty books about sex, you've likely been, at the very least, teased about it.
And if I accomplish nothing more than this idea we can be both good and feminine without being confined to being a Good Girl (as in Good Girls Don't) with this series, then that will be a huge win for me, and well worth the time I spent with two of the most frustrating male characters my muse has ever introduced me to.
Frustrating, because I couldn't stay away from them... following wherever they led, even dark places unknown.
I hope at the end of it all, you can regard them as the teachers that they were to me, even when they had a lot to learn themselves.
That's what Book Three is for...
Until then, it's time to embrace a little darkness.
If you're in the mood for something even darker, nay, scary this Halloween weekend, MY IMMORTAL is available for FREE through the 31st. How do you find love when you're a reincarnated vampire?
Hey, you know how it's SO ANNOYING to wait a year or better for your series to complete? You find characters you just love, and juicy story that just won't leave you alone, and you have to *wait*? It sucks. And it seems all our best series tend to keep us dangling on the line, making us wait for them.
Ahem.
Believe me I share your pain. It's hard for me to wait, too, which is why I write obsessively for hours at a time to watch my stories unfold. I'm the book's first reader, and I *can't wait* to see how it all comes together. Never has this been truer than with the Masters Saga.
Confession: I couldn't let go of Devlin.
Actually that's not true. Devlin wouldn't let go of me. It was like he was made of magic.
#DefinitelyMagic
That little stinker whispered into my ear day and night, urging - demanding - me to write his story, and I was all too eager to tell it.
Basically I had no choice in the matter. He took me well in hand.
N' I liked it. O_o
Truth be told, I kinda fell in love with him.
If you feel likewise, and are suffering a book hangover and Devlin withdrawals, I have GREAT NEWS...
DISCLAIMER: This book is part of a series. Spoilers might be contained in the description. For new readers, start your journey with Devlin and Coralie in MASTERS FOR HIRE, now available everywhere!
They were two completely different people from two completely different worlds. Within two weeks they were married, for better or worse.
Their whirlwind romance did nothing to prepare Coralie Masters for what awaited the happy couple back home. Reality crushes the fairytale existence Devlin had created for her in Las Vegas. Ultimately his powerful seductive hold over her cannot protect her from new, powerful forces outside of their marriage that work nonstop to tear them asunder.
There is much more to fear than her family learning the truth of how and why they met, because there’s much more to Dev’s story that she could ever know. The mystery surrounding Devlin Masters quickly undermines their love story.
One thing becomes crystal clear. They may be married, but she doesn’t really know this sexy, alluring stranger at all.
They love each other. They want each other. They can’t stay away from each other.
But will it be enough?
The Groupie Saga titillated you. The Fullerton Family Saga broke your heart. We were only getting started. Book Two of the Masters Saga, MASTERS FOR LIFE, turns up all the Ginger Voight angst, drama and sex like never before.
**Author not responsible for broken Kindles.**
Intended for readers 18+ for graphic sexual content.
As you can see, it's about to get complicated! Dev was easy to love in Book One. He said all the right things and usually did all the right things. But as we return to "real life," Coralie realizes - as do we all - that Dev really was a blank slate in Book One, a chameleon who fit himself neatly into Coralie's fantasies. The truth? Devlin Masters harbors a lot of secrets. Worse, he doesn't appear especially eager to share them. He wants Coralie to trust him, even though he can't bring himself to share with her the dark details of his past.
How does he plan to make her trust him, then? Well, they don't call him a master for nothing. He uses his considerably skill as a lover - and his unbreakable seductive hold on her - to keep her blisscombobulated.
Here's a little taste...
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
I paused by the side of the bed. “It looks like you think you’re going to tie me to this bed.”
“I don’t think I’m going to tie you to the bed, Coralie,” he said. He turned to face me. “I know I am.”
My stomach dropped. “I don’t think so.”
He rounded the bed to approach me. “Why not? That’s what my good girl has always wanted, isn’t it? A walk on the wild side with an alpha male, who would take her in hand and make her submit.” He stood right in front of me. I could smell the booze on his breath. “A bad boy who would take all her choices away, so she doesn’t bear any responsibility for all her naughtiest desires. You need the baddest of the bad for a job like that, darlin.’ Someone a little…,” he trailed off as he leaned even closer, “unpredictable.”
I shivered in spite of myself. His fingers chased the goose bumps down my arm. “We didn’t cover everything in Vegas, did we? We left a few stones unturned. Let’s turn them over. You know nothing would turn you on more than to be tied to this bed, at my mercy.”
Again I shivered. “Devlin.”
“For the rest of the night, until I tell you otherwise, you will call me sir,” he instructed as his eyes met mine. It was a potent look that welcomed no argument.
“Devlin,” I tried again, this time a little sharper. He responded by stepping closer.
“I said,” he repeated slowly, taking my chin in his hand, “you will call me sir.”
My eyes widened as his mouth descended on mine. Despite the light bondage and submission he was suggesting, the kiss was positively gentle. He teased my mouth apart with his lips, probing my mouth just lightly enough to make me melt against him. And he knew what kind of power he had over me the minute I kissed him back.
I was a junkie. And he was my fix.
He wound his hand in my hair and pulled my head back so he could explore my neck. “That’s my girl.”
***********
As you can see, Devlin was pushing me out of my comfort zone. He does that a lot during this series, alternately making making me swoon and breaking my heart. You will love to hate me for what happens next, and this book in particularly will make you curse me. Vanni and the Groupie Saga will seem like a walk in the park in comparison. If you're a fan of my brand of hyper-reality, particularly the way I deliver it, where you love to hate me for the angsty complicated messes I allow my characters to get into, THIS is SO the series for you.
If you think you're up for it... dare to fall in love with the Master...
Devlin shadowed me as I walked Gus and Lucy to the door. I stood waving after them long after they disappeared down the pathway and into the darkness beyond. Devlin finally reached around me to close the front door with one hand, which ultimately pinned me between the solid, hard wood of the door and the solid, hard wall of his chest. He towered above me, so close that I could feel the heat from his incredible body. His gaze swept over me, as if peeling away every inch of my clothes with nothing more than a look, before it finally settled on my face.
My eyes met his. This was where it got complicated, I knew. We could spend the rest of our night ‘talking’, but I hadn’t paid to talk. I could have had that with Oliver without paying one thin dime. I had wanted something more than that, and had for a long, long time. I knew it, and I suspected that Devlin knew it, too. He was, after all, a professional.
So what now? Did I take a green light for granted here, or what? Did I simply ask for sex? Or did wait for him to make a move? Did we talk about it, or just go at it like a couple of people might on a “real” date? The clock was ticking and I had absolutely no idea what to do next.
He answered my silent questions with a slow, confident smirk as he locked the door behind us with a resounding click. He leaned forward, his mouth so
near to my skin I could feel his breath against me. My knees nearly gave way when he said, “Alone at last.”
I nodded, gulped hard and licked my lips. He chuckled a bit before he turned back to the living room, tugging my hand in his so that I would follow.
“You should get us some glasses, Coralie,” he murmured as he reached for the bottle of champagne to uncork it.
I nodded dutifully and scurried around the corner to the kitchen, returning with a couple of cobalt blue champagne flutes. He shrugged out of his jacket as I perched on the sofa to pour us our wine. It was a wonder I didn’t spill it everywhere. I couldn’t wrench my gaze away from his body if I tried.
Those broad shoulders… that solid chest…the promise of that bulge in those slim-fitting pants…and for the next couple of hours or so it was all mine, bought and paid for.
My pulse raced as he sat next to me, so close that I became intoxicated on the spicy, woodsy scent of his cologne. I was sure he could see my hand tremble when I handed him his glass.
Those sultry eyes rendered me mute as he stared at me. Finally he raised his glass. “To old friends and new beginnings,” he said in a voice so soft, it felt like an actual caress.
I nodded as I clinked our glasses together. I couldn’t tear my eyes from his supple mouth as he drank. Again, I drained another glass. I reached for the bottle, but Devlin leaned forward to grab my hand. “You’re not going to need that,” he murmured in a low voice that sent a shock wave to my core.
“I’m–I’m not?” I stammered.
He shook his head. My head was floating as high as a cloud as he took the glass from my hand and set it on the coffee table in front of me. He eased back against the couch, capturing my face with his hand. His thumb brushed rhythmically over my cheek as he stared down into my face. “I think I know what you want, Coralie. I definitely know what you need. The question is… do you trust me to give it to you?”
My eyes widened as I stared up at him. Slowly I nodded. I stared at his mouth as it descended towards mine, closing over my lips finally in a soft, sensual kiss. My insides went up just like kindling as his broad tongue parted my lips and darted inside. He tasted like champagne. It only made me feel drunker.
And I blame the alcohol for the wanton way I threw my arms around his neck and kissed this enticing stranger back. I mean, I was only human for crying out loud. This man looked like he just stepped off the cover of a magazine, and here he was kissing me. He was kissing me. Me! His lips on mine, his hands on my body, his tongue penetrating my mouth with all the passion I’d only read about in romance novels. His fingers tangled in my hair as he deeply explored my mouth with that skilled tongue, and I felt my whole body come to life as a response.
I wanted more, and I was in the very unique position to take it, no questions asked.
He held me close, with one broad hand sliding up my side to cup the full curve of my breast. I gasped into his mouth as he thumbed my nipple through the fabric. He pulled away to stare down into my face. “You spent all your life taking care of everyone else, but no one has taken care of you, have they?”
I couldn’t even speak. I just shook my head.
“I’m going to change that,” he promised as he reached for another kiss. “I’m going to change everything.”
