Mevember Giveaways, Day 16

 We're into the home stretch now. Welcome to another Texas offering, my steamy Rich Bitch title THE UNDISCIPLINED BRIDE.

As you can probably tell, I enjoy turning traditional tropes on their ears. I honestly get bored with the same ol' same ol'. What interests me is the road less traveled or the dark side of the moon. So, I got excited about a story where the millionaire was the bratty, entitled heroine and the hero was a working class alpha who was about the only one who could put her in her place. 

I do this because power interests me, particularly when it comes to sex and romance. There's a certain amount of power that we yield and bring into the relationships we build, just by what kinds of boxes we can check off. Socially speaking, men still wield more power in relationships than women. To give them all the money too just doesn't feel as balanced to me.

I like my millionaire tropes, don't get me wrong. I've made the bulk of my money writing them. It's a fun fantasy and I get off on it regularly. But every now and then I get the itch to play around with tradition and turn it upside down just to try something new. I wanted to turn up the heat under my characters just to see what they would do.

In one corner of the ring is a pampered princess who thinks the world owes her something. She's entitled. She calls all the shots. And she's utterly miserable, hence why she tries to make others around her as miserable as she is. She sports an engagement ring on her finger, but it's not because of some undying love. It's more a business arrangement. She'll marry the man she's supposed to, live in the suburb she's supposed to, drive the car, wear the clothes, raise the kids she's supposed to. It's a never-ending cycle of upper classism protecting itself, even when there's no happiness to be had.

In the other corner is a working-class chef who has to fight uphill his whole life to make all his dreams come true. He understands there's more to life than money, but he has no choice but to play the game if he wants to take care of the family he loves. For some, their very survival depends on how well they can flip the script. And he had quite a few hurdles to overcome in order to do that. Minority, check. Lack of resources, check. But despite his circumstances, he's a bonafide alpha who has a strong will, every bit as strong as the princess.

Sparks fly from the moment they meet. Like me, Peyton Prescott is instantly intrigued by this unusual development. She's not used to being told no, particularly by the people she pays to do what she wants to have done. Since she's been conditioned she can have anything she ever wants, she sets her sights on seducing sexy Mateo Bravo, one last fling before she leaves her single life behind.

But Mateo is not so easily persuaded. Instead, he decides to make her jump through hoops for the first time in her life, hoops that people like her have always expected him to jump through himself. For him, making her beg is the challenge.

I volley the power back and forth between the two. When they meet in the middle, it's sexy as hell. Two words: elevator scene.

But I will say that this book has one of my favorite B-plots, mostly because it did go down a road I had never traveled... and I totally didn't see it coming. These characters told me who they were and what story I needed to tell and I just went along for the ride. It was sweet and romantic and one of my favorite moments where my characters rose from the pages like Venus, with very little help from me.

Seriously, it's like magic when that happens.

Now you see why I don't mind traveling that road less traveled. You just never know what you're gonna find.

Come along for the ride and explore the dark side of the moon with me. Get your copy of THE UNDISCIPLINED BRIDE today.

 

Valentine #3 - Mateo Bravo

What is the name of today's Valentine?

Mateo Bravo.

How old is he when we meet him?

Mid-to-late 20s.

What stands out most about him?

He has a very commanding presence considering his modest station in life. I had to meet those meager circumstances with a much stronger personality, and he definitely rose to every challenge.

Nice guy or douche?

He comes off as a douche, but it's really just a big chip on his shoulder. That's probably true of a lot of men, come to think about it.

Favorite moment with him?

When he puts Peyton in her place. She is a BIOTCH when we first start this story. And she's god-awful to him, proudly demonstrating every single hateful bigoted characteristic that Mateo has grown to despise from the rich and entitled over the years. She's used to running the show and thinks the world around her is there to do her bidding. When he realizes that she wants him, he takes *great* pleasure showing her that she can't snap her fingers and he'll come running. I think this is where I fell in love with him, actually.

“From the unused feel of your kitchen, I guess we’ll start with the basics. This,” he held up the pan, “is a pan. It is commonly used to heat food.”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “There’s no need to patronize me, Mr. Bravo.”

He grinned. “I like the sound of that coming from your lips, Miss Prescott.” He put the pan on the counter and walked over to where she stood. He grabbed her hands in his, turning them over to inspect their softness. “You’ve never even washed a dish, have you, Princess?”

Her eyebrow arched defiantly. “That’s what I pay other people to do.”

His dark eyes glittered as he stared down at her. She felt like she hit a nerve, but he was decidedly pokerfaced. “Better watch out,” he said in the same good humor. “You leave enough chores to the hired hand, and your husband may run off with a maid who isn’t too good to get her hands dirty.”

She snatched her hands back, which made Mateo smirk even more. He turned back to the sink, filling the pan with water. He placed it on the stove, turning the heat up to medium. He then leaned against the counter and crossed one foot over the other to watch her. Long moments passed without his saying a word. He just inspected her from where he stood. His eyes traveled over her face, down her exposed décolletage, and down toward her endless legs, shown off by the short hem of her skirt.

The longer he didn’t say anything, the antsier she got. She ended up crossing her arms across her chest, which she had originally bared for his benefit. To have him so brazenly inspect the goods without crossing the four feet between them made her feel cheap somehow. And she didn’t like it.

So she turned the tables on him and inspected his form as well. Every inch of clothing he wore clung to his body, which even in a relaxed state showed off the impressive cut of his muscular form. His thighs were powerful and strong, and his chest strained against the thin cotton fabric of his T-shirt. The bulge in his pants hinted at a promise not yet fulfilled, and the longer they stood there in that awkward silence made her fidget even more. Neither one seemed willing to be the first to close the gap between them and act on the undeniable chemistry that crackled in the air.

It was yet another battle of wills.

She could easily imagine walking over to him, or he to her, and stepping into that strong circle of his arms. He would lift her up on the counter and step easily between her legs, which would close behind him until her ankles locked. He’d dive into her neck, nuzzling against the graceful slope, nibbling at her lightly scented skin as her fingers crawled down his back and up again under his shirt.

She could practically feel his solid muscles under her fingers, which curled in a tight attempt not to rush over to where he stood and climb him like a jungle gym.

His eyes were dark and from the hint of a smirk he wore, she knew that he was following her thoughts exactly. The longer they stood there, the more they indulged this erotic game of chicken. Neither was ready to yield the power to the other by making the first move.

Instead they stood four feet apart the entire ten minutes it took the water to boil. When he moved to turn off the burner, she actually took a breath in relief. He moved the pan onto another, cool burner, then he crossed over to where she stood. “Lesson one: how to boil water,” he said with a slight grin. Softly he added, “You just have to leave things alone until they get hot enough.”

She gulped. Just as she was about to respond, assuming that the seduction part of their evening had commenced, Mateo turned for the door. “Tomorrow night we’ll talk about something more advanced. Like melting butter.”

She was flabbergasted as she chased him to her front door. “Are you kidding me? An entire lesson on how to boil water?”

He shrugged as he tossed, “Like I said, we have to start with the basics,” over his shoulder. He didn’t stop until he got to the door, which is where Peyton finally cornered him.

“If you think I’m paying $1500 for a couple of ten minute lessons, you’re crazy.”

Another damnable shrug. “You agreed to two lessons per week at that rate. Nothing was ever said about their duration.” He paused as he looked down at her. “But you’re right. We haven’t taken care of everything.”

He shut the door and then turned to face her. As he advanced toward her, she unconsciously took steps backward until he had her pressed up against the wall. His head dipped toward hers until their mouths were a breath apart. She felt the hard lines of his body pressing into hers as he held back his kiss in sweet torture. Finally she gasped, “What do you want?”

He bent even closer until their lips nearly met. “The check,” he said with that evil grin.

With an angry snarl she pushed him away. “Fuck you,” she said again, and again he replied, “Maybe someday. But not today.”

What do you love about him?

He's a deeply layered guy. He'd be easy to dismiss on the face of it, and a lot of people would. I wanted a "regular" guy to get a shot at romance, so I turned the tables and made HER the rich one. But how he was able to stand on equal footing to her every step of the way, despite the labels that could have kept them separate, indicates a powerful confidence and strength that money simply can't buy.

What do you hate about him?

He's a deeply layered guy. For all he does, he shows very little. His true intentions haven't always been pure. His hatred is understandable, but it helps nothing if he perpetuates it.

If you went on a date, where would you go?

He's a cook, so I imagine a HELL of a home-cooked meal. But a glass elevator would be okay too. (Chapter 11. Woof.)

Who inspired him?

He was born in my imagination. The whole story took me by surprise, particularly the subplot.

Who might play him in a movie?

Do you have a special song that reminds you of him?

It'd have to be something sexy. Because, damn.



Any "Easter Eggs" planted with this book boyfriend?

The elevator scene was inspired by real life events. That is all I am at liberty to say.

Where can we find him?

You get to meet him in THE UNDISCIPLINED BRIDE, but my Bravo caterers show up in a TON of books, including FULL-FIGURED FLOOZIES.

Stay tuned for a hot new Valentine tomorrow.

Swoon-a-Palooza Book Boyfriend #2 - Mateo Bravo

Fun fact about me, I never like to follow the pack when it comes to crafting stories. I'm never going to write a book simply because a fad is hot, and I will turn old tropes upside down just to keep things interesting. I like variety, if you couldn't tell by my near 30 titles. I'm all about the story and what makes that one particular story interesting. I'll write about vampires and billionaires if it strikes my fancy, but I'm not out to write "the next Twilight" or "the next Fifty Shades of Grey." Those stories already exist, so I have no interest to write a carbon copy. I do this out of respect both to the writers who wrote those books, as well as to the readers who came to love those stories. I'd rather give you something new than some watered down substitute. That's why I like to tweak expectations.

I'd rather blaze a trail than follow the leader, which motivates almost all of my stories. Basically I've taken Toni Morrison's writing advice to heart. (“If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.”) That's why I was writing about big girls getting love way before it was cool. I want to - need to - do something different.

You can't fling a dead cat in any direction in the romance section of a bookstore and not hit a book about a hot millionaire alpha and the young, clueless ingenue he decides to mold into his perfect mate. I've been reading that kind of story since I was eleven years old. And don't even get me started on Disney. Over and over and over and over again. Been there, done that. I've even written my fair share of books about it. Basically... I needed something new. That's why I decided to write a book where the millionaire alpha was the *woman* rather than the guy.

Let's face it. Money is power. Whoever has the most of it can dominate the relationship, and I personally like to see a little variety in this fantasy. I blame this on my being an alpha female myself. Yes, power is sexy. And yes, it would take a very powerful alpha indeed to dominate me, and I'm sure if I ever found him he would be hot as hell. But that's not really what trips the trigger. The battle to take control and retain it is sexiest of all, and I prefer sex to be a dance, rather than a march. I want to see my couples battle it out endlessly, twisting and turning and flipping the script so that all the lines are deliciously blurred.

I'll give you an example. One of the hottest scenes I've ever seen in a movie was in the 1984 romantic suspense movie THIEF OF HEARTS. If you haven't seen it, a notorious cat burglar robs an affluent San Francisco couple. The wife (Mickey) had become dissatisfied in the marriage, thanks to a neglectful work-a-holic husband, and had taken to her diary to record all her lascivious fantasies. The cat burglar, Scott, played by the smoking hot 80s hunk Steven Bauer, discovers these diaries and - because he finds the wife smoking hot as well - decides to bring all her fantasies to life. He arranges what seems to be a serendipitous meeting, and they begin a work relationship from there. (She's an interior designer, and wouldn't you know it? He happens to need his loft redecorated. How convenient.)



After having been robbed, Mickey is feeling a little vulnerable. When she finds his gun, Scott decides to take her to the shooting range so she can reclaim a little bit of her power. He teaches her to shoot, which is intimate in and of itself. He's behind her, his hands on her body, commanding her in her ear. Meanwhile she's shooting this pistol that she could turn on him at ANY moment. He has given her complete control of the situation, but that doesn't stop him from letting his hands wander liberally over her body. She's in control, but she's not. He's not in control, but he is.

SO FREAKING HOT.

I was probably 15 years old when I first saw this movie and it lodged into my head as pretty much the sexiest thing ever. I try to recapture this in my own stories on the regular, simply because nothing is hotter to me than that battle for power. That give and take. The yin and yang of submission and dominance. Hence why I don't do traditional B&D stories, nor would I. It can pepper the gumbo, but I need there to be a balance of power in order for there to be true seduction.

Nowhere do I do this better than in THE UNDISCIPLINED BRIDE. Peyton Prescott is a spoiled little brat, who expects everything to go her way. She's used to throwing her weight around, courtesy of her daddy's big bank account. This socialite gets everything she wants whenever she wants it, and pretty much thinks life is supposed to work out that way for her.

Trouble is... she really doesn't know what she wants. When you can have anything, anything loses its appeal. The only thing that really has any appeal at all is the thing she can't have. Enter Mateo Bravo, a cocky working-class caterer, who has a serious axe to grind when it comes to the upper classes. When he sees that she wants him despite everything that should keep her away (his piddly bank account, her rich fiance,) he decides to teach this rich bitch a lesson the only way he knows how: between the sheets.

Of course, that's the way I wanted it to go. Mateo had other ideas. I intended this book to be an erotic romance with lots of sex, but Mateo was in the driver's seat from the beginning. He not only made Peyton wait, he made me wait.

Again... HOT AS HELL.

But of course this is one of my books, so I got to wrangle a story out of there. (I am THE Alpha, after all.) He learns a thing or two himself, mostly courtesy of his sister, Naomi, who gets an unexpected love affair of her own. (Seriously... it surprised even me.)

I set this story in Houston, since I'm a Texas girl and I wanted to play around in my own back yard for a bit. As I dove into Texas high society, and the good ol' boy network that entails, I figured out a lot about Peyton I wasn't expecting to learn. Honestly I couldn't stand her at first. I knew I wanted to make her a bridezilla from hell - mostly because I find that dynamic interesting and I wanted to get to the bottom of it. What I learned instead is that Peyton was a lot more dimensional than I ever expected her to be. Wearing her skin and getting into her head, I started to see the world through her eyes and I understood why she did the things she did - even if I didn't always agree with it.

I went into the story empathetic mostly to Mateo, who had worked his butt off to try and make a catering business work with his sister. They faced a lot of obstacles making their dream come true, mostly because of the color of their skin. His anger was my anger. He didn't want to sell out or to play nice to the people who wanted to railroad him just because they could. He wanted to take some control, which is a perfectly natural response when you're virtually powerless.

Peyton's interest gave him an 'in.' When you're a man with an agenda, you take it.

This is one of my stand-alone novels, which means you get the story resolved in one book. Though, with the appearance of Graham Baxter in Chapter Eleven, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if you see these folks again in the future.

If I could cast the movie, William Levy gets my vote as Mateo.

I'd also cast Blake Lively as Peyton, Sandra Vergara as Naomi and Elisha Cuthbert as Lissette. I've done everything to make this a movie short of writing a screenplay, but the year is still young.

Here's a snippet.

****

“From the unused feel of your kitchen, I guess we’ll start with the basics. This,” he held up the pan, “is a pan. It is commonly used to heat food.”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “There’s no need to patronize me, Mr. Bravo.”

He grinned. “I like the sound of that coming from your lips, Miss Prescott.” He put the pan on the counter and walked over to where she stood. He grabbed her hands in his, turning them over to inspect their softness. “You’ve never even washed a dish, have you, Princess?”

Her eyebrow arched defiantly. “That’s what I pay other people to do.”

His dark eyes glittered as he stared down at her. She felt like she hit a nerve, but he was decidedly pokerfaced. “Better watch out,” he said in the same good humor. “You leave enough chores to the hired hand, and your husband may run off with a maid who isn’t too good to get her hands dirty.”

She snatched her hands back, which made Mateo smirk even more. He turned back to the sink, filling the pan with water. He placed it on the stove, turning the heat up to medium. He then leaned against the counter and crossed one foot over the other to watch her. Long moments passed without his saying a word. He just inspected her from where he stood. His eyes traveled over her face, down her exposed décolletage, and down toward her endless legs, shown off by the short hem of her skirt.

The longer he didn’t say anything, the antsier she got. She ended up crossing her arms across her chest, which she had originally bared for his benefit. To have him so brazenly inspect the goods without crossing the four feet between them made her feel cheap somehow. And she didn’t like it.

So she turned the tables on him and inspected his form as well. Every inch of clothing he wore clung to his body, which even in a relaxed state showed off the impressive cut of his muscular form. His thighs were powerful and strong, and his chest strained against the thin cotton fabric of his T-shirt. The bulge in his pants hinted at a promise not yet fulfilled, and the longer they stood there in that awkward silence made her fidget even more. It was as if both of them were fantasizing about taking that next step, without either of them lifting even a finger to close the gap between them and act on the undeniable chemistry that crackled in the air.

She could easily imagine walking over to him, or he to her, and stepping into that strong circle of his arms. He would lift her up on the counter and step easily between her legs, which would close behind him until her ankles locked. He’d dive into her neck, nuzzling against the graceful slope, nibbling at her lightly scented skin as her fingers crawled down his back and up again under his shirt.

She could practically feel his solid muscles under her fingers, which curled in a tight attempt not to rush over to where he stood and climb him like a jungle gym.

His eyes were dark and from the hint of a smirk he wore, she knew that he was following her thoughts exactly. The longer they stood there, the more they indulged this erotic game of chicken. Neither was ready to yield the power to the other by making the first move.

Instead they stood four feet apart the entire ten minutes it took the water to boil. When he moved to turn off the burner, she actually took a breath in relief. He moved the pan onto another, cool burner, then he crossed over to where she stood. “Lesson one: how to boil water,” he said with a slight grin. Softly he added, “You just have to leave things alone until they get hot enough.”

She gulped. Just as she was about to respond, assuming that the seduction part of their evening had commenced, Mateo turned for the door. “Tomorrow night we’ll talk about something more advanced. Like melting butter.”

She was flabbergasted as she chased him to her front door. “Are you kidding me? An entire lesson on how to boil water?”

He shrugged as he tossed, “Like I said, we have to start with the basics,” over his shoulder. He didn’t stop until he got to the door, which is where Peyton finally cornered him.

“If you think I’m paying $1500 for a couple of ten minute lessons, you’re crazy.”

Another damnable shrug. “You agreed to two lessons per week at that rate. Nothing was ever said about their duration.” He paused as he looked down at her. “But you’re right. We haven’t taken care of everything.”

He shut the door and then turned to face her. As he advanced toward her, she unconsciously took steps backward until he had her pressed up against the wall. His head dipped toward hers until their mouths were a breath apart. She felt the hard lines of his body pressing into hers as he held back his kiss in sweet torture. Finally she gasped, “What do you want?”

He bent even closer until their lips nearly met. “The check,” he said with that evil grin.

With an angry snarl she pushed him away. “Fuck you,” she said again, and again he replied, “Maybe someday. But not today.”

The door closed silently behind him as he departed, leaving Peyton speechless and frustrated as she scrambled with what to do next.

****

A song from the playlist...



And for today only, you can get THE UNDISCIPLINED BRIDE free! It's rated 4.3 stars out of 5.0 on Amazon, and it's one of my many books free to read through Kindle Unlimited. So if you want to read something a little different, if you have an open mind, Mateo awaits. Enjoy the dance. ;)

"The Undisciplined Bride" - Re-release and Friday Free Read

Like I said in my April Newsletter, I am currently revising some previous work for an exclusive run on Amazon to offer you bigger savings and more opportunities to sample the work. Today, a newly expanded THE UNDISCIPLINED BRIDE goes on sale for a Friday Free Read.

I gotta say, this story took me by surprise in a number of ways. My goal was to write a story about two very powerful leads who volleyed control and domination back and forth in their game of seduction. I didn't want to go the traditional route with a hero who was a billionaire, so I made Mateo Bravo a working class cook. I didn't want a typical ingenue of a female, so I made Peyton Prescott the billionaire who was also a raging bitch who bowed down to nobody.

Both of these characters are unexpected powerhouses. In my mind, this made any subsequent submission even hotter.

As always is the case, my characters took me by surprise and gave me oh so much more than I was asking of them.

Mateo turned out about how I envisioned him, which was sexy as hell. This is a man who knows he's a man, and bows to no one. The way he dominates the woman who is literally his boss was one of the hotter dynamics that I have written. (The Boiling Water scene, in particular, is a favorite. And the Elevator scene... I just can't even TALK about it.)

Instead the women of THE UNDISCIPLINED BRIDE were the ones who had a thing or two to teach me.

I knew I was going to make Peyton a nasty little thing. She is a bridezilla on the warpath to make everyone pay if her desires are not executed exactly the way she thinks they should be. She's rich and entitled and has no qualms whatsoever going after anything she wants. Unlike my other books, Peyton is not a plus-sized heroine. I don't make too much issue of it because honestly, it wasn't that critical to the story. She had a host of flaws to challenge the traditional idea of feminine beauty, the biggest of which is that she thinks she is better than anyone else, including almost each and every man outside of her Daddy. This is no wilting flower or demure southern belle. She is, on many occasions, a capital-C-You-Next-Tuesday.

In writing her, however, I learned a lot about The Bitch Complex. I love to figure out what makes people tick, and motivates them to act the way that they do. Being a writer especially, we are tasked to introduce (and answer) a number of questions to keep our readers turning the page. The Peyton in my head could have easily been one-dimensional. She was spoiled and entitled, a true princess in her own mind.

But why? Therein lies the story.

As I pealed back layer after layer, I began to discover an interesting human being under all the nastiness. In fact, as each chapter passed I began to respect her in ways I didn't expect to. She was powerful and strong in the only way she had ever been allowed to be, and those qualities made her a pleasure (and inspiration) to write. She just needed the right environment in which to grow. Thanks to Mateo and me, she got one. Her evolution throughout the story was one I was proud to witness.

Another character who took me by surprise right from the start was Peyton's childhood friend, Lissette Goodreau. I had NO idea what her story would be when I sat down to write. She jumped headlong off the outline and demanded a love story of her own. She got one, though it is unconventional.

Because of Lissette, THE UNDISCIPLINED BRIDE isn't just a romance novel. It's also a social commentary about love and identity and how we each get to define our Happily Ever After for ourselves... or at least SHOULD. I take on some sociopolitical topics that can be controversial for some readers. If you want pure escapism, this may not be the book for you. In fact, none of my books may be the ones for you. I don't write a story unless I have something significant to say, and I'll pull any trigger required in order to say it.

In at least three books, that was done literally. (And I still have my biker series to go, which should really scare the crap out of anyone who has walked any of these other ledges with me.)

For me, THE UNDISCIPLINED BRIDE challenges the idea of happiness. How do we define it for ourselves? And what happens when it looks NOTHING like what thought it would? How far would you go to be happy? And how much would you allow society around you to limit your own personal journey?

And all this came out of deciding to give a snotty bridezilla what for and take her down a notch or two. This is how my brain works.

(And I wouldn't change a thing.)

For those who have read THE UNDISCIPLINED BRIDE before, the story hasn't been significantly changed aside from an expanded ending. I tied in the connection between the Prescotts in Houston and the Fullertons in California. (If you've read ENRAPTURED, then you know that Prescott Petroleum, the company Peyton's family runs, was tied directly into the scandal involving Troy DeHavilland and the horse ranch down in Mexico. Those references are now a lot easier to spot in the newly revised version, and Jace Riga even makes a surprise appearance.

That's right. I'm continuing to build that big universe where my books and stories are connected. I get SUCH a kick out of that, I can't even tell you. It is my hope to Stephen King most of my romances at least, just so I can spend time with my favorite characters again and again.

If you haven't yet read THE UNDISCIPLINED BRIDE, pick it up today for free. Keep an eye out for other promotions over the next 90 days, before I release it wide again for Barnes and Noble and iTunes.

To get you in the mood...

Introducing Mateo Bravo

Mateo Bravo was raised to be a man of unquestionable integrity. His mother was widowed shortly after his birth, forcing her to raise both Mateo and his sister, Naomi, with nothing more than her indefatigable will. She had one goal: to get her children to adulthood, and to their own amazing futures, without taking one handout from anyone. She worked every job, never missing one day, to pinch and save every penny to give them a future much brighter than she herself had working as domestic help for Houston's super wealthy.

It was a lesson Mateo never forgot.

Another lesson he learned was that his station in life, much poorer than the people his mother served, robbed him of his worth and identity to the privileged upper-class. His resentment grew the more he realized that he was a nameless, faceless minority that could be traded and sold within that upper crust society. When it cost him the thing that meant most to him, his family, he was out for revenge.

When pampered princess, Peyton Prescott, landed on his radar, he had a few plans in store for the preening debutante who thought the world owed her something. He embarked on the rather titillating journey teaching her a few important lessons he thought she needed to learn. He wasn't going to be happy until he was in the driver's seat, and she was going to fight him every step of the way.

The longer it takes to tame this entitled vixen, the more Mateo is attracted to her core strength and uncompromising ability to go after what she wants.

Before long, this powerful alpha male must decide whether or not he can submit to his own desires. But things are more difficult than they seem, for the top spot on Mateo's priority list is already taken by another girl.

Excerpt from The Undisciplined Bride

She wore an evil smile as she shopped for the special attire she had planned for the evening. Instead of dressing up for the occasion, she, too, wore a band T-shirt that was thread-bare and skin tight, a cute little gem she found at a flea market on the way back from her father’s office. She didn’t bother with a bra, nor did she worry about underwear underneath her jeans. There was barely any breathing room between the denim and her body as it was.

She could imagine his peeling her clothes from her like someone might peel a banana, and it made her giggle as she spritzed herself with her favorite perfume. She tossed her hair for that just-out-of-bed look on the way to answer his knock at precisely eight o’clock.

His eyes drifted over her new clothes, barely concealing his amusement. “Am I early? I’d hate to miss the evening gown competition.”

She shrugged. “I figured I’d follow your lead,” she said as she indicated his casual clothes. “You are my teacher, after all.” He laughed as he knelt to retrieve a couple of cloth bags full of groceries. “It’s a good thing you’re dressed comfortably,” he said as he led the way to the kitchen. “Since we’ll be doing a little bit more than boiling water tonight.”

“Good,” she said as she followed. “I doubt sincerely I can wow anyone with my ability to make tea.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Princess. All you learned was how to boil a pot of water. Tea is a few steps beyond you at this point.” He hoisted the bags onto her marble countertop and proceeded to unload the contents.

“I love how you think I’m so helpless in the kitchen. I can make a cup of tea.”

He turned to her slightly. “Prove it.”

“What?”

His eyes met hers. “Make me a cup of tea, Peyton.”

It was such a softly spoken demand for something completely mundane, but it shot electricity down to her toes. “Fine,” she said as she reached under the counter for her teapot. She filled it with water and put it on the stove, before retrieving a canister full of tea bags and a mug.

Through her peripheral vision, she noticed Mateo lean against the counter to watch her work, which made her feel terribly self-conscious. She busied herself pulling out the sugar and fresh mint, praying she wouldn’t drop anything like a klutz in front of him. For long minutes the torture went on as he studied her every movement. Finally her hands trembled as she poured the boiling water into the cup. As the tea was steeping, she turned to him. “So how did I do, Teach?”

He grinned as he crossed the kitchen to stand in front of her. He put a hand on either side of her, resting on the marble counter. “I won’t know until I have a taste,” he said softly as his eyes traveled over her slightly parted lips. “But your form was good,” he added, glancing down over her taunt chest. “Definitely a lot of… raw potential to work with.”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “As good as Lissette?” she wanted to know.

“Apples and oranges,” he answered softly, and coyly, with a tug at the corner of his mouth.

“I guess you really do have a preference for rich blondes,” she said as she crossed her arms in front of her.

“Blondes in general,” he admitted gleefully. “They don’t have to be rich.” He touched a curly tendril of her hair. “They don’t even have to be a natural blonde.”

She slapped his hand out of her hair, which made him chuckle. “No offense, Princess. Thanks to your little peep show the other night, I know you’re true.”

She flushed beet red as she turned back to the cup on her counter. She felt the heat from his body as he leaned against her, his mouth against her neck. Neither of his hands had moved from their spot on either side of her, but he stood close enough to press her into the counter. She nearly groaned in spite of herself as she realized that hard contour pressing into her ass was the evidence of his desire. When he spoke, she practically came right out of her skin. “Don’t rush it, Princess,” he cautioned as his warm breath tumbled over her skin. “It’s always better when you wait.”

She spun around to throw herself right into those arms, to take the very affection he was withholding, but he moved away in the same fluid motion. She was strung tight like a string on a violin, waiting to fulfill all the sexy promises this dark stranger kept making with his tempting body. “Is that what this is all about then?” she asked.

He had his back to her, facing instead the mountain of groceries he had brought. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, and even though she couldn’t see it she knew damn well he was grinning. “I thought you hired me to teach you to cook.”

She walked over to where he stood, placing her hands on either side of the counter, exactly like he had done. She pressed her chest into his rigid back and whispered against his spicy smelling neck, “Is that all you want to teach me, Mateo?”

She grinned wide when she realized he was no longer focused on the groceries. His eyes had fluttered closed, and she could sense he was doing his level best to control his breathing. She stood on her tiptoes, rubbing herself against him as she whispered against his ear. “What else do you have to offer an unsatisfied girl like me?”

Her hands slipped around his waist, dipping lower to cup that growing bulge in his jeans. Deftly he took one of her wrists in his hand and spun it behind her back as he turned to face her fully. If she didn’t know better, he looked almost angry. “I told you, Miss Prescott, I don’t play with another boy’s toys.”

She couldn’t think. He had her arm bent behind her back, forcing her soft curves against his rigid, unyielding body. His mouth was a kiss away, but he was reluctant to take what she offered with a nervous lick of her lips. She was, however, rewarded by the shudder that passed through him.

“What do you want from me?” he asked softly.

“What do you want from me?” she countered.

He bent closer, the heat of his open mouth warming her lips. Finally he answered, “Your check,” with a smile that indicated he had once again gained control of his senses.

She spun out of his arms. “You egotistical son of a bitch.”

He grinned as he reached for the cup of tea she made. He licked his lips as he devoured her with his eyes. “Wow,” he finally said.

Even as mad as she was, she beamed under his praise. Until he ruined it with, “There’s hope for you yet, Princess.”

She stomped off toward the bedroom, half-hoping he’d follow her. Instead he made her once again come to him, only this time she plopped down a check for $50,000 onto the countertop. “There,” she said. “That pays for your ‘instruction’ for the next nine months, until I get married. Which, for your information, is the only time I will belong to any man.”

He leaned back against the counter. “Are you serious?”

“I’m always serious,” she informed him.

He held up the check. “And just what are you expecting for this sum of money?”

“You tell me,” she said, using his own pat answer against him. “You are the teacher. What exactly do you think I can learn in nine months?”

He walked over to where she stood. “You can learn to cook,” he told her pointedly. “Nothing else is for sale. Including me.” He started to exit the kitchen so she added, “You can say no, of course. But then I might call your work ethic into question, and, by extension… your sister’s. If you leave, I may have to rethink my using her for my wedding. And that paycheck looks a lot like this one, does it not?”

He turned back to face her from the doorway. “You honestly think you can control all us little people with your money, don’t you?”

“No,” she answered flatly. “You could say no. Go back to boring ol’ Lissette and her connections.” She advanced where he stood. “But good luck forgetting about me,” she promised with a smile.

“Now who’s sure of herself, Princess?”

“I’m sure you want to fuck me,” she answered directly, rewarded by how his eyes darkened from her boldness.

He leaned close. “I’d do more than fuck you,” he promised. “I’d ruin you for any other weak-kneed little rich boy you could bend to your will. And you know it, don’t you? You know I’d do more than just sleep with you, Peyton. I’d make you mine.”

She snaked her hand around his neck. “Then do it, damn you.” She pulled him down for a kiss but he was too strong. He lifted her up easily into his arms and slammed her against the wall behind her.

“Maybe someday,” he promised. “But not today.”

He released her and she slid down the wall, chasing after him the minute her feet hit the floor. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” she screamed at his departing back. “You aren’t even done with your cooking lesson!”

He swiveled back to her at the door, swinging on her so quickly she took two steps back out of instinct. “Tonight’s lesson wasn’t about cooking, Princess,” he said with that cockeyed grin.

Her eyes widened. “What are you talking about? What exactly were you teaching me?”

He grabbed her by her waist, pulling her up into his arms. When his mouth landed on hers, she couldn’t breathe. It was hot and tasted of mint as his tongue darted between her lips. It was an angry kiss that demanded her full submission. She wilted into his arms as she allowed him to deepen the kiss, but it was over almost as soon as it had begun.

His eyes were dark and stormy as he released her. “I’m teaching you what you need to learn,” he said. “See you next Tuesday.”

With that, he was gone. *** "The Undisciplined Bride" releases October 1, 2013.

Introducing Lissette and Naomi

Whereas Peyton embraced the luxurious life of privilege she had born into, her childhood friend, and future sister-in-law, Lissette Goodreau, had always felt out of place. This low-maintenance daughter of Southern money worked her way through college, where she found many like-minded friends who accepted her modest lifestyle and her more liberal viewpoints... all of which were polar opposites of her conservative family.

When she meets the Bravos, she has found kindred spirits who are equally invested in making the world a better place, one random act of kindness at a time. As she becomes better and better friends with the struggling siblings, she realizes just how high their financial stakes are. Worse, neither sibling partner of Bravo Catering will accept her charity.

Instead they accept her kindnesses in other ways, particularly with all their work at a progressive church that seeks to feed the hunger, clothe the poor and be sanctuary for the downtrodden.

The more they accept her for being who she is, the more she is able to grow and blossom into the independent young woman she has always wanted to be... despite the tiny box that had been crafted for her by her status of wealth and privilege. This empowers her to consider breaking free - to be honest with who she is no matter what the cost.

Better still, she finally finds the person who can give her this love and acceptance in ways she never before dreamed possible. She has fallen in love at last... and is willing to risk all her money to marry the her newfound soul mate.

Naomi Bravo is one-half of the hottest new catering company in big demand for Houston's elite. Trained in New York City and completely self-made, she clings to the core values her long-struggling single mother taught her: If you can work enough for it, you can make any dream come true. Naomi wasn't sure that all of her dreams could come true, but she knew she had to do what she could to make life easier for others, particularly those she loved the most. After returning to Houston to hold her beloved family together, she works her way from selling muffins out of her car to catering large events for Houston's most powerful families. She has one real objective: she wants to lift her family out of economic dire straits, no matter what she has to do to make that happen. Her secrets run deep, especially concerning her new friend, Lissette, who has unexpectedly taken her under her wing.

The three become an unlikely trio, and a family of choice, though many complications threaten to tear them all apart.

Excerpt from The Undisciplined Bride

Lissette Goodreau had learned from childhood that she could have her own life as long as she always made sure to carve out some Peyton time. An afternoon spent with the proper amount of doting and duty could free up an entire week, so she made that sacrifice that Friday afternoon, when it became clear that Peyton was going to hound her to death if she didn’t. She sat in the passenger side of Peyton’s convertible, driven from shop to shop, dragged from dressing room to dressing room, while listening to the ire of Peyton’s life: that she couldn’t have exactly what she wanted the minute before she decided she wanted it.

By the time they got to Shop #3, Lissette was ready for the real thing to be poured into her champagne flute, not just some sparkling cider. A dozen crumpled dresses later, they headed for lunch to refuel. Lissette ordered a dirty martini before they were seated.

After a week spent with children whose fondest wishes included living long enough to see their next birthday, Peyton’s manufactured drama was even more grating than usual. The dresses were inferior, the shop girls weren’t fawning enough, and the clock was ticking on her chance to find The Dress before her doll maker could make an exact creation of Peyton for her big day. It was a tradition her parents started way back on her first birthday. After that, every significant event was marked with a personalized doll to add to her collection. There was a First Day of School Peyton, a Sweet Sixteen Peyton, a Homecoming Queen Peyton, and a College Graduate Peyton. There was no way in this world or any other that Peyton would allow herself to marry without a Bridal Peyton. That deadline was even more pressing than any alterations that could be done between now and October. The usual logic was to have an eight-month window so there would be time for at least three fittings between choosing The Dress and The Big Day. Mr. Holzmann’s window was a teeny bit narrower than that. He preferred a full year to prepare the doll, but he’d settle for eight months. He could probably do it within six, but he made it clear to Peyton he’d never deliver a doll that wasn’t truly ready. The closest they ever cut it was Homecoming Queen Peyton, which they ordered and she posed for long before her name was even up for a vote to win. That was a six-month doll, and it was her least favorite.

It was her epic meltdown that made her German doll maker from New Braunfels swear he’d never deliver another rush job. If she wanted a doll, she had to give him the time he demanded to get it right.

This was her truest deadline, and all she could talk about as she plowed through her salad.

Well, almost all. She stealthy slid Mateo Bravo into the conversation, as she was dying to know exactly what was going on with her mousy best friend and the hottest, most annoying man she’d ever met.

“So catch me up to date with your children’s… hospital… thing,” Peyton said between bites. Her blue eyes locked onto Lissette, cornering her like a wobbly-kneed gazelle.

Lissette swallowed the olive she had been chewing on from her second dirty martini. Peyton never asked her about her fundraising. She really never even asked her about her life. Instead Lissette was a verbal trampoline. Peyton would talk about herself, and Lissette would volley it back to her with the appropriate level of worship to keep Peyton happy.

“What’s there to know?” Lissette shrugged. “Big gala in about three weeks, hopefully we’re going to raise enough to finish that new wing at the hospital. That’s another three hundred rooms and a brand new surgical center with all the latest technology.”

Peyton tried not to roll her eyes. “That’s a lot riding on it. Surprised you are trusting that new caterer for such a big event.” Lissette narrowed her eyes as she glanced up at Peyton’s face. “You’re trusting your wedding to them.”

Peyton waved a hand dismissively. “That was Daddy. He fell in love with the food after they catered the last dinner party. Personally I think it was mediocre at best, but hey. One less thing to worry about for the wedding.”

Lissette sat back in her chair. Never had Peyton Prescott relented on any small detail of a big event in which she was the star. Why was she bullshitting her now? “A lot of Mother’s friends were singing their praises.”

“Is that how you found them?” Peyton wanted to know.

It was such an innocently delivered question, but somehow Lissette understood that she finally had something that the Great Peyton Prescott wanted. And, for the first time in her life, she felt less than accommodating. “Why do you ask?”

“You have to admit how weird it is. Some no-name, struggling caterers land in our laps and start wowing all our elite set of friends. God knows they certainly don’t know how to act among us, if that idiot in a monkey suit is any indication.” A smile broke apart Lissette’s face. So that was it. Mateo Bravo had dared to mock her highness, and she was strung up in knots trying to figure out why anyone would be above trying to impress her. It was a game, and Lissette was up to bat. “You have me to blame for that, I guess,” she said, trying her best not to chuckle.

“You? What do you mean?”

“I found Naomi and Mateo when I was out church shopping. They were hosting a soup kitchen and I was really impressed with the quality of the food they were serving people who couldn’t even afford to pay them.”

Peyton didn’t know which part of the story to attack first. “Wait. What? Church shopping?”

With a finger, Lissette ordered another martini. She turned back to Peyton. “Yes. Church shopping.”

“But we’ve always gone to the same church. We were practically born there. Pastor Hannigan is like our grandfather.”

Lissette smirked. “Trust me. He favors some ‘grandchildren’ more than others.”

Peyton didn’t know what to think. Their families were steeped in tradition, from the schools they chose to the churches they attended. Everything had been passed down from one generation to the other, and there had never been any reason at all to change anything. The church especially was where they were forgiven for being so wealthy in a world that had so little. They could build houses for the poor, feed the hungry with their massive food pantry, even sponsor certain inner city school children in private learning institutions, all by dropping a check in the collection plate every Sunday. They, and their equally privileged friends, found comfort in their united effort to make the world a better place, while driving away from their weekly duty in their $40,000-dollar cars to the multi-million dollar mansions they called home.

It was a comfortable place for Peyton, but it had been suffocating Lissette for years. She didn’t realize how much of a mismatch it was until she moved to Austin to go to school. There she had dabbled in different religions and philosophies, trying to find the one that would fill her spiritual holes.

The closest she had come was the Church of the Works, which she attended more than five months before. There everyone was welcomed, no matter the color of their skin or their social status. All one needed was the willingness to do the work set out in Christ’s ministry in the Bible. They were to feed the hungry, clothe and shelter the poor, heal the brokenhearted, visit the jails and let those who felt like they had no place in the world find sanctuary. There was no laundry list of rules to follow except one: to love one’s fellow man as one loved him or herself.

She jumped right in to roll up her sleeves and help serve the congregation after their Sunday service, which was where she met Naomi Bravo for the first time. The Spanish beauty had a wide smile for each and every person who appeared before her with an empty plate, which she filled to overflowing with the most amazing food that Lissette had ever tasted.

But what had won her over, ultimately, was when Naomi would refuse any money for her services. She’d give it all back to Reverend Mitchell, who used her generous contribution to fund those projects that meant so much to the church. When they found out about the Children’s Hospital drive, Reverend Mitchell and Naomi were the first ones to offer their services, for free, to raise money to help her.

She’d found another home in Church of the Works, and new friends in Naomi and her brother, Mateo. Sunday became a date she couldn’t break. Each and every weekend she could be found helping them prepare the food they’d give away for free, just because people were in such desperate need. Soon, Lissette looked forward to the laborious weekend more than any other time in the week. She’d written her fair share of checks in the past for every charity that had marched itself in front of her. But never had she felt as productive as when she was covered with flour and all kinds of sauce, laughing with Naomi as they prepared pans full of food late into each and every Saturday night.

They drank wine, they shared stories from their vastly different backgrounds. They formed a friendship that made her paper doll propping for Peyton even more intolerable, but Naomi insisted that Peyton needed her, and she couldn’t just give up when it got too hard.

Those conversations led to others, when Naomi had taken her into her confidence about the financial hurdles her family faced. They were on the verge of losing everything, including the one thing that money couldn’t replace. Lissette held onto Naomi as she cried on her shoulder, holding onto every belief that goodness was the reward in and of itself. She was the most remarkable person Lissette had ever known. And she had something that Naomi needed desperately: connections. After that, Lissette repaid each and every kindness by pimping them out to her stupidly rich family and friends to ensure Bravo Catering could get the recognition and the business they so richly deserved.

But Peyton wouldn’t appreciate this story, since it didn’t involve her, so Lissette had never shared it. Now Peyton was staring at her like she had grown a third head just because she didn’t want to live the life someone else had crafted for her generations before. It reminded Lissette once again that their world didn’t allow for coloring outside the lines. They had to marry a certain type of spouse, they had to live in a certain type of neighborhood, and they had to attend the same churches and clubs as all of their equally wealthy friends.

It was a very exclusive club so many fought to get into, and Lissette had subtly been trying to break out of it for years. “Well, I guess this answers why you’re unavailable on Sundays,” Peyton said as she pushed her plate away. It was a $20 salad, and she barely ate half. It’d end up in the trash where someone who had absolutely nothing could get ticketed for picking it out to have something, anything, to eat.

“Yes,” Lissette affirmed. “That’s why God invented six other days to get things done.”

Peyton rolled her eyes. “Well, I’d like to see the church that produces the likes of Mateo Bravo. That’s the cockiest son of a bitch I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.”

Lissette once again suppressed her laughter, especially when Peyton probed further.

“You looked pretty cozy the other day. Don’t tell me you’re slumming with someone like that.”

Lissette shrugged. “He is quite handsome,” she baited.

“Please,” Peyton snorted. “Bargain basement at best. You’re selling yourself short if that’s what you’re willing to settle for, Lissette. Honestly.”

“Oh come on,” Lissette grinned. “Don’t tell me you’re not the teensiest bit curious. All that raw sexual appeal… and that body. I mean, my God.”

“Yawn,” Peyton said as she looked away. “Leland is ten times the man Mateo Bravo is.”

“It’s a good think you think so,” Lissette agreed. “Considering you’re marrying him.”

“You’re next down the aisle,” Peyton changed the subject easily. “Just do us all a favor and aim a little higher than a caterer, please.”

Lissette’s eyes sparkled. It was easy to see that ship had already sailed, and it pissed Peyton off even more. “Caterers can be a lot of fun,” she informed her friend with a knowing wink. “They keep it plenty hot in the kitchen.”

“Check!” Peyton demanded as she glanced around for the waiter.

*** "The Undisciplined Bride" releases October 1, 2013.

Introducing Peyton Prescott

Peyton Prescott is a young woman who knows what she wants. Bred to be one of Houston's upper-class debutantes from one of Houston's powerful, wealthy families, she has become accustomed to getting her way - and she doesn't care who knows it. She accepts the position of royalty within the 1% like the true queen-in-training she happens to be, and that jumps into overdrive the minute she decides to marry.

Peyton is no dummy. When it comes to Southern wealth and power, men definitely have the edge. And she's tired of being effectively shut out of all the excitement, disregarded as a bubble-headed socialite whose main career is to look pretty, marry well and breed. She's fiercely ambitious, and forever beating against the rails of her gilded cage. To be mistress of her own destiny, she must be mistress of her own home. She zeroes in on her childhood sweetheart to secure her status as a powerful Mrs., rather than an invisible Miss. That her groom hails from a family even more powerful and wealthy is no coincidence. Love has precious little to do with her choice. She's more concerned how well she can control her future hubby, and with Leland Goodreau, III, she's confident that she has a secure grip on her diamond-studded leash.

Peyton has honed her many wiles through the years, taking lessons from the culture around her that the power women have comes either from charm or complete bitchiness. Peyton took the bitch route, treating everyone around her the same way: it was up to them to keep her satisfied.

Unfortunately for her AND everyone around her, no one managed to make that happen.

The older she got, the nastier she got about it. And no one was willing to stand up to her and all her bridezilla ways until one fortuitous meeting nine months before she was expected to walk down the aisle and say, "I do."

Excerpt from "The Undisciplined Bride"

She joined her mother and Lissette in the kitchen, where they stood in a circle completed by Marlena Goodreau, Lissette’s and Leland’s mother. None of these females dared to enter the male lair; they stayed to themselves and talked about the gardening, their charity functions and which of their country club friends was screwing the pool boy this week. Business talk would have driven them bananas, a language in which they were never versed.

Not me, thought Peyton as she perched onto the barstool next to the island in the kitchen.

“Penny tells me that you haven’t yet found a dress,” Marlena said as she turned to Peyton. “I remember searching for my dress. What an adventure that was. I ended up going back to my mother’s trunk and pulling out her dress, allowing the tailor to make it a bit more fetching for my big day.” She turned to Lissette. “That’s going to be your dress one day, my dear.” Lissette smiled. “One less thing to worry about.”

Marlena nodded and patted her hand. She knew that whenever Lissette decided to marry, there wouldn’t be such the fuss that Peyton was making.

But that was just Peyton. She’d liked things her way from the crib, and didn’t really care who knew it. Marlena was thankful yet again she’d been blessed with low-maintenance children. She really didn’t think her nerves could stand raising a child like Peyton. Dealing with her on a part-time basis was stressful enough.

“Daddy said Orrin was here,” Peyton said as she turned to her mother. “Checking out the new caterers.” Penelope nodded. “He was, but he had to go help them when their van broke down.”

Peyton arched an eyebrow. “It broke down?” Penelope merely shrugged. “I thought Rose gave these people a sparkling recommendation.”

“Mrs. McGuire,” her mother gently corrected. She’d been trying to train her daughter in the ways of poise and demure ladylike behavior since she brought her home from the hospital. Her work still wasn’t done. “And it’s a mechanical failure. It doesn’t have to reflect on the quality of the food.”

“But our guests are arriving and the food isn’t here. Not very professional, if you want my opinion.” To punctuate her displeasure, the French doors clattered open and Orrin Ely swept through with flourish and grace, topped with endless good humor. “Call off the dogs. We’re here.”

Peyton straightened as she took note of the beautiful, young Hispanic woman who followed Orrin, holding a large pan in her hands. Orrin guided her to Penelope. “Penelope Prescott, this is Naomi Bravo.”

Penelope offered a limp hand for a shake as she glanced over the young woman in modest clothes. Her white, button-down shirt was tucked neatly into clean and pressed jeans, which led down her impossibly long legs to brown espadrille sandals. “How do you do?” “Much better now,” Naomi answered with a brilliant smile as she tossed errant dark curls back over her shoulder, tied up tight in the ponytail she wore. “I must apologize for the delay. My brother didn’t see a board stuck in the middle of the road and we hit it dead on. We ended up having to change a flat.”

“You’re here now,” Penelope offered, but though the comment was gracious, her tone was anything but. “Our guests are arriving, so I expect that you’ll be able to make up lost time.”

Naomi’s smile never faltered. “Of course, Mrs. Prescott.”

“Where is this ‘brother’?” Peyton asked as she slid off of the barstool. “I should think anyone with a pair of eyes could have noticed a board in the middle of the road.”

“Peyton,” her mother cautioned, but Orrin interrupted. “He’s outside cleaning up a bit. Dirty work, changing a tire.”

“Well, he’s not coming in here until he is cleaned up,” Peyton declared as she marched toward the French doors. If one of her duties throughout her married life as Mrs. Leland Goodreau III was to corral the help and keep her house running smoothly, there was no greater time to hone this particular skill on novice caterers who couldn’t even get to their event on time.

Her heels clicked loudly against the brick terrace leading out to the sculpted gardens. The white van sat parked in the back driveway, the back doors hanging open as someone leaned inside. Any haughty reprimand she might have delivered stuck right in her throat as the man straightened up and came fully into view.

Like Naomi, this man was of Spanish descent. His jet black hair was cropped short around his neck, with one lazy shaft hanging over his chiseled face. Clad only in a tight-fitting pair of jeans, it was easy to see that his clean, cut body was just as perfect as his face. The sight of his bare, bronzed six-pack shocked Peyton into uncharacteristic silence as her approach noticeably slowed. There was a raw magnetism to his being half-naked just a few feet away from where she stood, especially when his dark brown eyes locked with hers.

Insanely full lashes outlined his eyes, making it appear as though he wore mascara and eyeliner. He offered her a whiter than white smirk as he watched her advance. “Here to offer a hand?”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “I think not,” she said. “I wanted to take a look at the man who couldn’t even spot something in the road to avoid a flat. I do believe you’re the first I’ve ever heard of doing so.”

He shrugged as he took his sweet time sliding a white shirt onto his powerful shoulders. “First time for everything,” he offered in good humor, well aware that she couldn’t tear her eyes from his powerful fingers and they slid down his body.

She wrenched her gaze away to glance into the van. “Is this the food that is supposed to be so wonderful?” she wanted to know. He laughed. “You tell me,” he said as he reached in and grabbed three large metal pans at once. “After all, you’re the one footing the bill.”

“My family is paying you, they are the ones to impress,” she corrected. “I’m Peyton Prescott,” she announced, and waited for him to provide his name in return.

“Mateo Bravo,” he offered in kind, with the same cheeky smile.

She gave him her notoriously arched eyebrow. “Mateo Bravo?” she repeated. “Are you some sort of superhero or something?”

He laughed. It was a full, throaty, deep laugh that tripped over her senses in the cool night air. He closed the gap between them until he towered over her, reaching an arm around her body to grab a box from the van, to balance on top of his already oversized load. Their eyes met and locked as he was mere inches away from her shocked face. His deep voice warmed her senses as he said softly, “You tell me.”

Once again she was struck mute as she staggered back a bit, allowing him to hoist several pans into those powerful arms. The woodsy scent of his freshly washed body filled her nostrils as he brushed past where she stood on the pavement, his powerful bicep brushing against her chest lightly in the process, making her gasp. He took three steps before he turned back to her. “Feel free to grab a couple of pans while you’re standing there.” With that same damnable smirk he turned back and walked into her house.

She glanced from him to the back of the van, where pans were stacked high and deep. With a defiant flip of her hair, she turned from the van and followed him into the house empty-handed, albeit a little shakier than before. *** "The Undisciplined Bride" releases October 1, 2013.

Series vs. stand-alone novels

Most people who know me got to know me thanks to the popular Groupie series. That book was never intended to be a series at all, but the characters decided there was a lot more story to tell and one book just wasn't going to cut it.



That spun off to my highly rated Fierce series, which I knew from the first outline was going to be told in three books.



I'm also planning a new trilogy featuring a triangle with two powerful, rich brothers for release in 2014. How I plan to do that should get people talking, but that's a blog for another time. Suffice it to say, series are a great way to spread one's wings and explore so many different subplots and recurring and supporting characters. In fact, the first novel I ever wrote had enough story outlined to be told in three books. I love having the room to gallop. It's one of the reasons I always leave the book on a hopeful note that the story could continue, though generally speaking I've resolved that book's plot and the story is complete. If there's enough fan interest, however, any book could become a series. And I really like the idea of that.

Granted, many people have a love-to-hate-it attitude when it comes to series. Most of the time this is because you have to wait so long for resolution to the story, in particular the Happily Ever After (or HEA.) It has a lot more power when it does come after it took two, three or even five books to get there, but as long as there is a series in play, the HEA is generally the carrot on the stick for you to keep reading and keep buying books.

When I realized that Groupie was going to spawn additional books, and in effect end on a rather unapologetic cliffhanger, I started researching how well series romance is received, since most of what I published beforehand were stand-alone novels with the room to grow if there was ever a demand. Even though I got the occasional request to tell a story beyond the one book, I figured many were not too pro on the idea of a series because of the postponed HEA. However, as far as best-sellers go, series were the ones topping the charts. A casual glance at the current NYT Best Seller list shows Unlocked by Maya Cross at #10, which is the third book in that particular trilogy.

Bringing up the rear at #20 is E.L. James and Fifty Shades of Grey. Twilight, Harry Potter, and more best-selling romances than I can shake a stick at finally convinced me to give the series a try.

Remarkably, and unexpectedly, Groupie offered me moderate success. I broke into the Amazon best-selling lists after the release of the second book in 2012. Despite the fact I released the first book in 2011, in fact nearly two years ago, it continues to be my biggest seller, surpassing even new releases. The first book, Groupie, has sold at least ten times that of my top-selling stand-alone romances.

I'm as surprised as you are, frankly. I thought for sure I'd go down in flames by breaking up the story into three books and throwing my characters in the blender of my twisted psyche and hitting "Frappe." That so many people love these characters is mind-boggling. That so many people want more and more of these characters, even more mind-boggling still. That is one of the perks of writing the Fierce trilogy, because I get to hang out with Vanni and Andy beyond their happily ever after... when they're actually, y'know, happy.

They don't have be dragged through the muck. It's not their story anymore. They can actually make smart choices and we can love them fully and truly.

It's awesome.

It's awesome to write happy, lighter stuff, especially after spending the last 5 books I've written in gut-twisting angst. To put that in perspective, that's nearly a half a million words that turned my emotions upside down way before I hit the "publish" button. I still have about 70k to go before I put this second trilogy to bed, and I just needed a break.

I needed a story that stood alone. I could have written an erotic horror, which I went to Connecticut to research earlier this year. I could have written a couple of screenplay ideas that were either heartwarming or comedic (or both.)

I decided instead that I needed a fun novel, a sexy novel... one that didn't take itself too seriously, one that wasn't out to make a social statement or change the world (like I hope Fierce will do.) I wanted a sexy alpha male and a bitchy, unlikable heroine he could put into her place. And I wanted, most of all, to be done with it. No cliffhangers, no waiting to see how it all shakes loose in book #3. One and done, folks. This is it. Whether we hit a HEA or a HFN or nothing at all, this is the story in its entirety, as authentic as I can write it.

The Undisciplined Bride is the titillating tale of power-swapping seduction with ambiguous morality. A frustrated socialite bridezilla named Peyton meets a working-class chef named Mateo, and sparks instantly fly. These two people aren't interested in falling in love, but they can't WAIT to fall into bed. Their antagonism toward each other fuels this fire. While I'm not one to write a true BDSM novel, I definitely get off on the dual domination that comes from two powerful titans out to best the other throughout the chase. Neither are nervous virgins who lack any self-esteem. These are two hot-blooded people who hunger for each other in the truest, rawest way possible. Who will win? It's anyone's game.

Here's an excerpt:

***

Each minute ticked audibly by and no one, from her parents to her best friend to her fucking fiancé, came to see what was wrong. It made Peyton even angrier and more petulant as each passing moment stole a little more thunder from her hissy fit. With a scowl, she plopped down onto a stone bench and preened to listen in to the riotous laughter coming from her parents’ formal dining room.

They were all having the time of their lives… without her.

She hopped up and began to pace again, only this time all she could see were those dark eyes that twinkled whenever they danced brazenly over her like a piece of meat. Electricity surged through her as she thought about how innocently he brushed against her when they stood beside his food van. And this thought led to the memory of how he looked in a tight pair of jeans and no shirt… like a bronze Adonis that looked more at home among the statues in her mother’s gardens than the wait staff in the kitchen.

After another involuntary shudder, she cornered another server. “Do you have a cigarette?”

“I do,” a deep, masculine voice said from behind. She whirled around to find Mateo leaning against the open door frame in his tuxedo like some leading man from a move from the golden age. She watched his hand reach deep into his pants pocket to withdraw a pack. His fingers were long and strong as he withdrew a cigarette for her, offering it just a few paces away from where she stood, making her cross the final steps between them.

She snatched it from his hand and he had the nerve to chuckle. “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

“You don’t strike me as the kind of person who smokes,” he shrugged. His eyes fell on her mouth as she put the cigarette between her lips.

For a split second all the humor was gone. Instead Peyton saw something else there… something she could control. She saw his hunger. With a slow smile she met his eyes and said, “I guess I have an oral fixation.” To her delight his eyes darkened. “Have a light?”

He withdrew a lighter and this time he closed the scant inches between them to light her cigarette. He watched her suck in a breath as his eyes locked on her mouth. “So what did you think of the food?” he asked softly. "You left in such a hurry," he added with a teasing smile.

She shrugged. “I don’t see what the big deal is, personally,” she offered evilly. The food had been exceptional, but there was no way in hell she’d let him know that.

He chuckled again, the warm sound of his rich, deep laugh tumbled across her senses. “Guess we’ll have to do better next time.”

Her perfectly tweezed eyebrow arched. “What makes you think there will be a next time?”

It was his turn to shrug. “Just a hunch,” he said. His eyelids drooped lazily as he inspected her. “You don’t seem like a woman who will give up on anything until she’s completely satisfied.”

Her chin jutted out. “You’ve got that right, at least.”

His eyes traveled over her face, then down across the exposed skin of her chest and arms. “Damn shame you have gone unfulfilled for such a long time already,” he said softly.

She gulped. “What is that supposed to mean?”

His voice was quiet but powerful. There was a cadence to his speech, as though he was striking every word with a hammer. The softer the words, the harder the hit. “You tell me. When is the last time someone fully met every aching need?” He wanted to know as he stepped closer. “I’ll bet never. And that’s why you’re so pissed off, isn’t it, Princess? You can have everything you want… yet, you never have.”

She shuddered despite herself. “You have a lot of nerve talking to me like that. Don’t you know I could have you fired?”

He stepped even closer, until their bodies were a breath apart. “But you won’t.”

She glared at him. “You’re a cocky son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

Before she realized what was happening his arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her to his rigid body. “You tell me.”

Her brain scrambled as he manhandled her. His grip was strong and true, and if she struggled she would feel every inch of his hard body contained in that fine tuxedo. “Let me go,” she gritted between clenched teeth.

His face was next to hers, his mouth mere inches from her ear. “Is that what you want, princess?” His hand slipped down from her waist over the graceful curve of her ass.

It was inappropriate as hell, and no one – absolutely no one – had ever treated her in such a disrespectful manner. Instead of the anger she would normally feel, for one insane moment she was tempted to reach the remaining inch between them and crash her mouth against his, to taste the raw hunger of this stranger’s kiss once and for all.

Her eyes widened as she pushed against that rigid chest, rippling with muscles she had never experienced so close before. “Fuck you,” she breathed as she stumbled away. She nearly lost her footing and it was Mateo who prevented her from landing face first on the hard concrete.

“Maybe someday,” he said with that same damnable smirk. “But not today.”

With that he left her alone on the terrace as he disappeared back into the kitchen. She nearly snarled with rage as she tossed the cigarette off onto darkness.

***

Needless to say, I'm having a LOT of fun writing their story, especially since in my head, Mateo looks like this:

And you know I never make you wait for long. So save the date, because we're serving this stand-alone on October 1st. #lickyourlips #Mateoiscoming