Swoon-a-Palooza Book Boyfriend #7 - Alex Fullerton (And a $0.99 sale! Limited time only!)

Yesterday we talked about Drew Fullerton, today we get to talk about his brother, Alex. Alex is by most definitions the yin to Drew's yang. Whereas Drew is a dominant alpha male, Alex prefers to keep things more low-key. Whereas Drew moves everyone around on his own personal chess board, Alex appeals to reason and logic - often using his sardonic snarky behavior to irk people into doing what he thinks is right.

Honestly that's what motivates Alex most of all. Despite coming from a long line of ruthless corporate raiders, Alex is a misplaced hippie who is more at home on a horse than he is in a boardroom. His love for the youngest and most vulnerable of the Fullerton clan makes him a fierce protector, though he has no illusions that he's any kind of savior. He understands his position in the family as "the black sheep" and plays the part accordingly.

That was why Rachel had no use for Alex from the first moment they met, even though he made it clear that she was the one with something to prove.

“Well, well, well,” I heard a male voice drawl from just beyond the fence. I turned to see what might have been Drew Fullerton’s scruffier, more uncouth twin. He was just as tall as Drew, with the same dark hair and light eyes and sculpted features. This man, however, sported longer hair and a close beard, topping off his rogue ensemble with a flannel work shirt, faded jeans and dusty, worn cowboy boots.

“Uncle Alex!” Jonathan exclaimed as he shot up off of the chaise lounge. He ran to the gate and around the yard until Alex Fullerton hoisted him up in one powerful arm.

“How you doin,’ kiddo?” Alex asked with a wide smile. He tugged at the orange belt. “You’re not a black belt yet? What’s wrong with you?”

Jonathan laughed at Alex’s teasing tone. “It takes time, Uncle Alex.”

“For everyone else,” Alex dismissed. “But for Jonathan Fullerton? I think not. You are made of too much awesome.”

“Lemme show you some new moves!” Jonathan offered as he hopped down.

“Now, buddy,” Alex chastised gently. “Don’t forget your manners. Why don’t you introduce me to your new friend?”

Jonathan walked closer to the fence where I sat. “This is Rachel Dennehy. She’s my new teacher.”

I stood and approached the iron fence. “We’re still working on that part,” I corrected. “I’m in the interview process, you could say.”

Alex’s hands landed on either of Jonathan’s shoulders. “Hope Master Jonathan here went easy on you,” he offered with an easy smile that never quite made it up to those steely eyes, which gave me the same critical once-over his nephew had.

“Hey, are those Cleo’s homemade chocolate chip cookies?” he asked. Jonathan nodded, so Alex patted him on the back. “Feel like fetching your old uncle a plate?” Another vigorous nod before Jonathan raced off into the house to accommodate a man he clearly idolized.

Knowing what little I knew of their family history, I found it a tad ironic.

Alex leaned over the fence. “So my brother finally did it,” he commented as his eyes swept over me.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Brought in a ringer,” he clarified. “What better weapon to prevent his ex-wife from getting full custody than putting a matronly female influence right in the house?”

Matronly? Was that a nice way of calling me fat? I stood straighter. “I’m just here to teach,” I informed him stiffly.

“Good,” he said as he glanced down at me with narrowed eyes. “Because if you’re looking to cash in, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

My eyebrow arched. “Excuse me?”

“It’s not like we haven’t seen this before,” he offered offhand. “Single billionaire, big, empty Beverly Hills mansion and a lonely kid who desperately needs a mom. Easy pickings for a smart gold-digger.” My fur started to rise but he went on, undaunted. “Hell, we even saw it when he was a married billionaire. One of the main reasons he’s single now.” He looked me over again, another liberal sweep of my fuller curves that grated against my last nerve. “I will give him credit, though. He’s definitely casting against type this time around. Natural hair color, no breast augmentation and no designer clothes. You really do look like a school teacher.”

My eyes narrowed. “That’s because that is what I am. I don’t appreciate any insinuation otherwise.”

He held up a hand. “No offense intended,” he said. “And if I misjudged you, I apologize. I’m more than willing to be wrong.”

“Really?” I challenged as I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

“Yeah,” he said as he glanced toward Jonathan, who approached with a plate full of cookies. “For his sake. You really want to do him a favor? Go back home. Let his mother have a fighting chance to raise him way the hell away from this poisonous family.”

Needless to say, it wasn't the best first impression. Even worse, Alex inserts himself wherever he can to needle this outsider. His objective is simple. Get his young nephew as far away from Drew as possible, before he loses him forever to the curse of their family. If he has to hurt a few feelings to achieve that, then he's perfectly okay with that. He quickly shoots to the list of Rachel's least favorite people. Like everyone else, she believes Alex can't hold a candle to his older, more successful brother, Drew.

I found Alex in the living room, standing in front of the family portrait. He seemed lost in the image, so much so I had to clear my throat to get his attention. “Mr. Fullerton,” I said as I stepped into the room.

He turned around to face me. “Rachel,” he greeted. “Can’t say I’m surprised you came back, but after everything Jonathan told us about you, I can honestly say I’m disappointed.”

“Is that why you summoned me? To chastise me for accepting a job in my chosen profession?”

His brow furrowed. “This isn’t some teaching job and you know it. You can’t be that naïve, no matter where you’re from.”

I bit back a sigh. “So I take it I’ve graduated from gold-digging tramp to ignorant hick, is that it?”

He sent a snarky smirk in my direction. “Who says you can’t be all four? You look like a multi-tasker to me.”

My fur started to rise. “Is there a point to this little meeting?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest as I stared at him.

“Since you are now living full-time with my nephew, his mother and I want to make sure that you are both qualified to teach him and emotionally equipped to handle the changes that are going to happen in the near future.”

My eyebrow arched. “And who exactly is fit to judge me for either?”

“Is there anyone who is better to decide this than a child’s mother? Clearly she would want to meet with you, to see if your motives truly are sincere.”

“If I wasn’t, I doubt very much Drew would have hired me,” I said. This made Alex chuckle.

“Seems you’ve gotten a little chummier than the last time we spoke,” he pointed out. “First name basis and all that. What exactly is your title again?”

I smiled sweetly. “Take it up with my boss,” I directed before I spun to leave.

Only this time he was on my heels before I could make it to the stairs. “What’s the matter, Rachel?” he asked as he spun me back around with one hand. “Afraid you’ll open your mouth and a bone will fall out? There are no skeletons in your closet this family doesn’t already possess. You can be honest with me.”

“I can be,” I agreed. “I just don’t want to be. Frankly, it’s none of your business what I do or don’t do. You’re not Jonathan’s father.”

“I also don’t have a $28-million dollar mansion in Beverly Hills,” he returned.

“You really think that’s what this is about, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “Not the first time. Doubt it will be the last.”

Rachel trusts him even less when he changes tactics.

“Having fun?”

And just like that, my good mood ground to a halt just like my swinging did. I dragged my feet in the sand until I came to a complete stop, then I turned to Alex Fullerton, who stood nearby. “I was,” I said pointedly.

He didn’t take the hint. Instead he walked to the swing next to me and sat down. “I guess I win the bet,” he said as he started to swing.

My teeth ground together as my jaw clenched. “What bet is that?” I finally asked as I resumed my swinging as well.

“I knew you’d take over the visitations. Elise said that you would never be so presumptuous. But she doesn’t know you like I do.”

I kicked harder as I swung higher. “Funny. Considering you don’t know me at all,” I said.

We passed each other as our swings crossed, his going up as I was coming back down again. “I knew you’d be here,” he smirked.

“I’m here because Jonathan asked me to be,” I clarified. “These meetings upset him. But I assume you already know that since you know everything.”

It came out much snarkier than I had intended. He chuckled in response. “At least we agree on one thing,” he said as he swung even higher.

“Is there a point to your pestering me? Or are you just bored?”

“I don’t get bored,” he said as he passed me again. I slowed my own swing considerably at his surprising revelation, which so closely mirrored my own thoughts on boredom. I couldn’t help but wonder exactly how much Jonathan had told him about me. Had he unintentionally armed this man with things he could use against me? Before I could ask, Alex went on. “I saw you swinging. You looked like you were having fun. So I joined you. Simple as that.”

“Simple, huh?” I questioned. “This has nothing whatsoever to do with your isolating me away from everyone so that you can further your case to let Elise have more access to Jonathan?”

This caused Alex to laugh harder. “Sounds like my brother already got into your head, Miss Dennehy. It’s not as nefarious as you make it sound. I just wanted to swing next to a pretty girl. No harm in that, is there?”

I made a face as I stopped the swing. He really had gone too far. “Good day, Mr. Fullerton,” I said as I rose from the swing and pointed myself back to the pier.

Unfortunately he jogged to catch up to me. “Was it something I said?” he tried to smirk in good humor.

I spun on him. “I know what you think of me, Mr. Fullerton. And that’s fine. Think whatever you want. Whatever helps you sleep at night, I don’t care. But don’t you dare try to butter me up like I’m some airheaded wallflower at the mercy of your insincere flattery.”

He held up both hands. “Cool your jets, sister. I wasn’t trying to butter you up. I was just paying you a compliment. It’s customary to say ‘thank you,’ not bite a guy’s head off.”

As you can see, he doesn't have a whole lot in common with Drew. He does, however, have a lot in common with Rachel. The shocking revelations unravel in book one, proving exactly how much. Rachel finds herself batted around between the two very different, very powerful brothers, and has to muster all her emotional fortitude to handle it.

Like I said yesterday, these two brothers were born from my experience living with a man with bipolar disorder. Like Rachel, there were days I didn't know who I would be dealing with from moment to moment. I know a little bit about loving and hating the same person all at the same time. In the FFS, I split them up into brothers and let my heroine try to figure it out from there.

For that reason alone, Alex is near and dear to me. His good qualities are indeed good and noble. His bad qualities, well... those were a part of the deal too. I love him every bit as much as I love Drew, and sometimes hate him every bit as much as I sometimes hate Drew. They equally hurt her, and by default equally hurt me. Yet, like Rachel, I could see what they *could* be, and that's why I hung in there. As their creator, I split their personalities right down the middle. My task was to have them meet more in the middle by the time the series was done, letting the lines blur accordingly.

Boy, did they, especially as Rachel gets to know the painful backstory that both Drew and Alex share. We had a LOT to wade through, hence the three books.

Like Drew, Alex has been such a part of my life for so long, I can't really "cast" him with anyone. He looks a lot like Drew, but unlike Drew, he doesn't care about fancy clothes and cars. He wears his hair long. He sports a beard. He has no interest in being contained to some stuffy office. Instead, he fights for right outside the boardroom. His money and his last name mostly embarrass him. Still, he's got the innate swagger of a true Fullerton.

If y'all have suggestions, I'm all ears.

The song for Alex is actually my song for Brandon, the son that I lost just before I wrote this story. It's a song about loss, which Alex knows a lot about. Honestly this connects Alex and Rachel more than anything else.



Since they are such kindred spirits, Rachel is the only one, aside from Jonathan maybe, who sees what Alex could be. He knows it, but doesn't know what to do with it. Just like she did with Drew, she rocks Alex to the core, shaking his entire foundation. Better still... she gets through to him.

“Ho, ho, ho!” Alex greeted jovially. We turned to see him in full costume as Santa Claus, complete with a full bag slung over his shoulder. “Merry Christmas, y’all,” he added as he glanced at me.

“What are you doing?” Drew hissed.

“Spreading joy and cheer,” Alex answered with a wide smile. Nothing made him happier than putting his brother off his game. “Tis the season and all that.”

“You look ridiculous,” Drew muttered. “Why must you take every family function and make a mockery of it?”

“How can you expect anything else when you insist on parading around our mockery of a family?” Alex challenged. “Unless, of course, your miracle worker has fixed that, too.”

Drew put his arm around me to pull me close. “I don’t think that is any of your business, Alex.”

“Of course not,” Alex sneered. “I’m just a Fullerton, after all.”

“Alex, please,” I said under my breath. “Don’t make a scene.”

He laughed. “I’m a big fat guy in red velvet. Santa doesn’t exactly play it small, sweets.” He put the bag on the ground. “But I come bearing gifts.” He withdrew a stocking for Drew, which happened to be full of charcoal. “Bad luck again, old man,” he said with a shrug. “Guess you’ll have to get all your goodies from your good pal, De Havilland. He owes you after your generous donations to his campaign and Entrepreneurs for American Liberty, don’t you think?”

“That is none of your concern,” Drew hissed through clenched teeth.

“Of course not,” Alex repeated. He dug around in the bag and brought out a gift-wrapped box. “And for the good teacher,” he said as he handed me the gift. His eyes were hard on me as I opened the flat box and withdrew the one-way ticket back to Texas. “It’s the gift that keeps on giving. You get your freedom, and Elise gets her son back. It’s a win-win.”

Drew was livid as he tore the ticket in half. “I want you out of my house, Alex.”

Alex laughed as he hoisted the bag back over his shoulder. “No can do, brah,” he said. “You can’t kick Santa out of your house on Christmas. It’s the one time the trespasser is more welcome than the thief,” he added as he glared at me. He spun on his heel and went into the ballroom, hollering, “ho-ho-ho” like he was a part of the venue entertainment.

Drew stalked to his study and slammed the door shut. I honestly didn’t know which brother to chase after. I decided to curtail as much damage as possible by tracking down Alex, who was bestowing gifts to his favorite nephew near one of the majestic trees in the ballroom. Jonathan had no clue how much of a problem his uncle’s presence caused for his dad. All he knew was that all the people he loved were in the same place. I let them interact for a few minutes before I gently interrupted and pulled Alex out of the ballroom.

Since the common areas downstairs were open as a holiday showcase, I had to pull him into my office so that we could speak privately. “You’ve made your point,” I said after I closed the door. “Can’t that be enough for once?”

Alex laughed. “You are something else. Not only are you Jonathan’s governess, but you’re a party planner, hostess and now… bouncer. You take multi-tasking to the next level, princess.”

“Look, I know you don’t like me…,” I started, but he was quick to interrupt.

“Who says I don’t like you?”

“You do. Every chance you get.”

He walked to where I stood at the door. “If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t care what happened to you,” he pointed out as his eyes swept across my face. “You may not see it now, but I am trying to save you.”

“From what?” I challenged.

His eyes slid down to my mouth. “From us.”

I backed up a step, but he pulled me back. “Elise… Nina… my mother… Fullerton men always destroy the women that they love. You think you can save us, but you can’t. You’re just prolonging the inevitable. Especially where Jonathan is concerned. You want to give us a gift? Leave. Let this house of ruin fall to decay like it should have done years ago.”

“I know you’re bitter,” I said softly, and he chuckled in response as he pulled away. “I don’t need the dirty details. I know it’s bad… poisonous… between the two of you. But you are still a family. You just need one person to give a damn. To fight.”

“And you think you’re that person, is that it?”

“I think you’re that person,” I told him as I squared my chin. “You’ve got a good heart, Alex. I’ve seen it. With Max, with Jonathan, with complete strangers at the mission. And I know you got that from your mom.” He looked away. “She did everything she could to save her boys by binding you both together. All this fighting and bitterness, it can’t be what she wanted for the both of you. Nothing is worth the hatred. Not the money, not the women, not the kids. It just takes one of you to decide to be the bigger man. You want to prove to me how sincere you are? Let it be you.”

He turned to stare at me for a long moment. Clearly he was dissecting what I had said, looking for something, anything, to use against me. I no longer cared what he thought about me. It was time to end the bitter feud between these two brothers once and for all.

I turned to leave, but his words stopped me.

“Don’t you have a gift for good ol’ Saint Nick?” he asked softly.

I turned back to face him. “What did you have in mind?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sprig of mistletoe as he approached. He stopped a breath apart and held it above his head. His eyes dared me to defy his request. Maybe it was a test. I had come to expect that from him. Instead I stepped closer, braced myself on his arm and stood on my tiptoes to plant a soft, lingering kiss on his stubbly cheek. “Merry Christmas, Alex,” I said as I pulled away.

His eyes engulfed me. “Merry Christmas, Rachel,” he murmured. He hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and slipped through the door. I followed him down the hall, but instead of going into the ballroom, he walked right out the front door.

Suffice it to say, it's up to Rachel to save BOTH of them.

Will she? Won't she? Buy THE FULLERTON FAMILY SAGA to find out. I've dropped the price of ENTANGLED, the second book of the series (and the book we really get to know Alex,) to $0.99 for a limited time only. This brings your total cost for all three books to $3.50. Not a bad price to fall in love with two very different brothers, and possibly get your heart ripped out in the process. Seriously I re-read the series last night and...



If you love angst, and you love passion, and you love complications and drama and *feeling* something when you read a story, this may be the story for you.

Swoon-a-Palooza Book Boyfriend #6 - Drew Fullerton

Undeniably my most successful series has been my Fullerton Family Saga. It really isn't even a contest. Even two years after its release, I sell more of these books than anything else I've written - the GROUPIE saga included. This series touched a nerve with so many readers, even though it was probably one of the riskiest story lines I had ever crafted. The accepted wisdom among writers is that you should always write in a way that scares you, and I try my best to live up to that mantra. The further I got into this story, the more it had me nervous as hell. With each click of "publish," I was sure I was going to lose everyone with how each book ended. Given the first and second books were so well received, publishing that third book, not knowing how these readers who had invested so much time in these characters would react to the way it all ended, was one of the scariest fucking things I'd ever done. And it's true, I lost some readers just like I feared I might. In fact, I think it'd be safe to say that ENRAPTURED, the third book in this series, probably garnered more 1-star reviews than any of my other books, from readers who simply hated the way I ended it. I shattered their hearts with this story, and Drew Fullerton was a huge reason why.

He's also the of the biggest reasons why there are enough people who loved the story to keep the average rating well above 4 stars, which came as a pretty big surprise to me. Many a reader clicked 5-stars through their tears, which I didn't expect. Many were cursing me all the way, which I kinda did.

"Why?! That same question has been on repeat in my head over and over and over since I finished this book. Why?! Ginger, WHY?! I waited a full day after finishing the book before even attempting to write up this review and I'm still not sure how I'm gonna get through it without completely losing my $**t. I should have know, I did know, that there was a real good chance this book was going to destroy me-between the blurbs leading up to this final installment and that terrifying little sneak peak at the end of Entangled....I wasn't wrong to be worried, typing this up days later (now months later) and I'm still in an emotional tailspin. If I could hunt down Ms. Ginger Voight I would hug her, beat her with my pitchfork, then cry on her shoulder. I can't remember the last time a book has affected me like this, so I guess no matter how I feel about how it all went down at the end, there is no denying Ginger Voight is an amazing author for bringing such strong emotions out of me through her pen alone." - 5- Heartsick, Broken and Pi$$ed off -Stars*****, Jenn Green August 21, 2014

And I feel your pain. Really I do. This book devastated me too. Part of me wants desperately to apologize, even though I know that this was how the story was always meant to be.

Some backstory, for those who don't know. I originally wrote the book the FFS was based on in 1995. This was the year my youngest son died when he was only nine days old, so there wasn't a whole lot of rest that year. We're talking endless sleepless nights where I needed something to keep my mind preoccupied. I needed to focus on those things I could control. Like always, I took to the page. I immersed myself in the highest highs, and the lowest lows, to make sense out of a world that suddenly didn't make any sense at all. I worked day and night to finish. It took only a few months, and... truth be told... it wasn't very good.

I actually have a copy of that first book somewhere around here, written out in longhand.

I wrote this story based on the genre tropes I had been introduced to when I was a kid. The very first romance novel I remember reading was a Harlequin. It was pretty old when I got it (easily early 70s, and I didn't read it until 1980,) and it was exotic in that the book was both published in and centered around England. A young ingenue moved in with a handsome, rich single dad, to work as a nanny for his child where the question of "will they/won't they" wasn't answered until the very end, which kept me turning the pages furiously to see them act upon this undeniable attraction.

Somehow that stuck when I'd craft this tale some fifteen years later.

By then, though, I wouldn't have known how to be an ingenue if I tried. I was pretty broken and beaten by that point, so the heroine I wrote ended up wearing my scars. In those early days my heroine was still breathtakingly beautiful though. When I was writing books in the 1990s, I thought that was just how it was supposed to be done. I made her everything I wasn't physically, even though I really didn't have any experience what it is like to live in that kind of woman's skin. The book ended up being very long, much longer than what you might find in your typical Harlequin romance novel. This meant it felt muddled and unfocused, with me going way too far on things that didn't really matter while stopping just short of tearing the wounds off of all the things that did. I knew when I finished it that I had a lot of work in front of me to turn it into the story it deserved to be.

Not to mention I broke some pretty big rules, so I knew that I would have to shelve that project because there wasn't any way it was going to get past any kind of gatekeeper in the shape it was in.

Back then you had to worry about those things.

I didn't resurrect the story until 2013. I had always planned to rewrite and release it, and by then I had the beyond brilliant idea to change my heroine into a size-12 and allow it to guide my story accordingly. This made it way more interesting to me, especially when I also decided spread the story out into three books, since this particular plot worked best broken off into manageable chunks that were made that much stronger by how focused I could be.

Since I was an indie, I didn't let the so-called "rules" deter me from writing the story I knew I needed to write. This was way more a saga than a traditional romance story, and truthfully, these are the kinds of books I like to write best. Don't get me wrong. I love a good romance like anyone else. But I also don't mind getting down and dirty, talking about life and love and pain and death and loss and fear and all the other ingredients that spice up our lives outside of the bedroom. If you're going into the book to see a woman hook up with a billionaire, this book will probably frustrate you. Most of the connection my heroine, Rachel, initially has with any Fullerton male is with the billionaire's son she has come to tutor exclusively. Theirs is a tender, healing relationship, where she swoops in to save this poor kid from getting lost in the drama that surrounds his life, and he saves her from a painful cocoon that has left her isolated and afraid to give her heart away.

We get around to the romance because I mean come on. This is Drew Fullerton. He is a commanding, take-charge alpha, one who didn't get to become CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company by shyly letting opportunities pass him by. He was a man who took what he wanted and felt very entitled to do so, thanks to his privileged breeding alone. He was born to be the king of his world and planned to do whatever it took to keep it that way.

But this story is so much bigger than a romance between a billionaire single father and his nanny. The reason I call it the Fullerton Family Saga is because that is exactly what it is - a family saga. I go after everything in this story. I deal with divorce and death, pregnancy, marriage, infidelity, betrayal, parenthood, brotherhood, murder, power, corruption... you name it, it's in there. It's about our modern life, but turned up to 11. (Why? Because life GOES to 11.)

So what can I tell you about Drew Fullerton?

Well, he's ridiculously rich, obviously. He lives in a $28-million-dollar home in Beverly Hills, with a fleet of exotic cars he can change right along with his mood.

“You certainly don’t mind making a statement,” I muttered as he peeled away to scream down the street to the very next stoplight.

“We weren’t created to live small,” he responded with a confident smirk.

He's also ridiculously handsome, obviously. Because he demands excellence in every area of his life, his physical health is in as good of shape as his bank account. By the time he is 30, he has created a world around him that he can control with nothing more than the crook of his finger, much like his formidable father before him, who trained him well on how to be one of the privileged elite.

To put it bluntly, he's a sophisticated, self-involved smooth-talking asshole.

He's a very powerful man because he was raised to be powerful at any cost, which might explain his failed marriage. Well, that and the many rumors that this magnate had a roving eye for the ladies, one that only got worse after his beautiful ballerina wife gained a ton of weight when she was pregnant with their son. Despite any allegations of his infidelity, he somehow retained custody of their son when they finally split. He ran one of the biggest companies in the world, amassing a fortune and making or breaking the lives of all the little people that might get in the way. He's not used to being denied or having his plans circumvented, making sure anyone who might dare to do so - including the mother of his child - would be punished accordingly.

Enter Rachel Dennehy, a strong Texas woman with even stronger principles and a low tolerance for bullshit. And Drew's life is filled to the brim with bullshit, thanks to a bitter divorce and even more contentious rivalry with his only surviving relative. His brother Alex has defected to "the other side" in a vain attempt to save vulnerable Jonathan from the curse of the Fullerton family. His main purpose in life? Being such a big thorn in Drew's side that he can't ignore him.

As you can see, it's complicated from the start. I needed a strong heroine who could, despite their different economic classes, stand toe-to-toe with Drew Fullerton to demand - and get - the respect she deserved.

“I think you misunderstood exactly what kind of educator I was seeking for my son. He is going to be a titan in business, following four generations of Fullertons before him. He needs to be prepared. You’ll forgive me if I don’t think measuring ingredients and shopping at the market qualify as the higher education for which I’m paying very good money.”

I placed the fork on the plate, my appetite totally obliterated under his heavy disdain. “You wanted me to teach your son, and I have done that. More importantly, I’ve reached him. He knows he can trust me, especially after I shielded him from that family debacle yesterday. This morning I gave Jonathan four different tests. In math, he was tested on fractions and word problems. The skills he learned with a quick trip to the store helped him score in the 99th percentile testing at near seventh-grade levels. He earned similar marks on his science paper, where he was tested on how certain elements react to each other, something he learned hands-on with a simple cooking lesson. For his history essay, he researched and wrote a thousand-word document on the Greystone Mansion and Park where we walked and explored which—if I’m not mistaken—qualifies under your physical fitness requirement as well. Finally I tested him on the book he’s been reading for pleasure, with a questionnaire that helped him think critically about the material he was reading simply for the joy of it, giving him several key vocabulary words to note as he read along. Though it isn’t a classic, it is a book that has been in my own curriculum for years, and I’m confident at least one student who reads it will go on and get an Ivy League education.”

His jaw clenched as he realized what I had done. I had taken Jonathan from a stale, unchallenging classroom environment with endless tests and bookwork, all of which had been crippling his curious and playful nature. By putting him in an entirely foreign setting, he learned how to do the things Drew wanted him to do, right down to the budgeting skills at the market, but in new ways that would naturally keep him more engaged than the boring ol’ status quo. All these experiences had been an adventure for him. And Jonathan had never even realized what I had done until I had quizzed him on it that very morning.

My hazel eyes glittered just as hard as Drew’s icy blue ones. “You may question my methods, Mr. Fullerton, but my results are indisputable. Considering I did all this in two days, even playing keep-away with your ex-wife and your pain-in-the-ass brother, I’d say I’ve done a hell of a lot more than the previous instructors you have hired to do this job.”

Normally I wouldn’t have cursed at an employer. But his elitist attitude really pissed me off. Did he really believe his son was too good to wash a dish or cook a meal, as if these mundane tasks held no value for such powerful, wealthy people? And if that was true, how did he regard anyone who had the misfortune of being born average? Did he think we were all beneath him, simply because we had no one to treat us like gods? The Texan was coming out, and he was either going to prove he could deal with that or he was going to send me home anyway. I had nothing to lose. In fact, the only one who had anything at all at stake was Jonathan.

“Now, if you don’t approve of my more unconventional methods, then you can gas up the jet and send me home tonight. But I’m willing to bet that you won’t find anyone else who can reach Jonathan the way that I have. I have a connection with him. That was what you wanted. That is what you got.” I grabbed a glass of ice water and gulped it down. “Do with that what you will.”

Before he could reply, Jonathan raced back into the room, wearing a new jade green kimono and holding the entire box set of his favorite Anime program. “Thanks, Dad!” he said as he rushed to hug his father. “Let’s watch it together,” he pleaded hopefully.

I used that opportunity to slide my chair back and rise from the table. “I think I’ll retire for the evening. Let you two catch up.”

Jonathan was crestfallen. “No, Rachel,” he said with a plaintive whine in his voice. “Please don’t go. You haven’t even had any pudding.”

“Pudding?” Drew echoed.

Jonathan nodded. “She made homemade Southern banana pudding.”

I shook my head. “You enjoy it. I’m stuffed,” I lied easily. “The dinner was excellent, Jonathan. You did a great job.” I turned to Drew. “It was very nice meeting you, Mr. Fullerton. I trust you’ll think about what I said and let me know if there has been any change in plans.”

Jonathan was panicked as he looked between his father and me. “Change of plans? You’re not leaving, are you, Rachel?”

“No decisions have been made,” Drew filled in before I could speak. “Why don’t you go get us some pudding, Jonathan? That sounds delicious.”

Jonathan nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Drew rose to his feet and walked around the table to face me. “Obviously I’m not used to being spoken to in such a way in my own home,” he said, his voice hard but quiet. “But obviously I offended you. I apologize.” He offered his hand.

It was a gesture of civility, but his eyes were still lethal as they stared down at me. My hand shook as I placed it in his. His fingers closed around mine powerfully as he pulled me closer. I gasped as I stopped short mere inches from that massive chest. I hadn’t been this close to a man in many years, especially a man as intimidating as Drew Fullerton. I was certain that he could feel the tremble in my grasp when my eyes shot to his. His face broke apart in a victorious smile. “Start over?” he asked softly. “Rachel?”

She wasn't going to put up with his mess, and she let it him know it in short order. But he was sure to wrestle the power back the minute he could... in whatever way he could. And he could simply because he's Drew Fullerton, and he plays to win.

The boys approached the traveling rings course, where they could swing from ring to ring and work out their upper bodies. Drew hoisted Jonathan up to grab the first ring, and then encouraged him (and spotted him) along the course as far as he could make it, which was about six rings. Jonathan hopped down, rubbing his arms with happy grimace. “Dad, can you believe it? I can do six now!” he said, beaming with pride.

“Way to go!” Drew praised with a congratulatory fist bump. “My challenge is seven, then.”

“Five!” Jonathan giggled.

Drew turned to me. “Looks like you are my impartial observer. How many do you think I should do?”

I held up my hands. “Don’t get me involved. This is a testosterone thing.”

He laughed as he peeled his shirt from his body, which he tossed to me for safe keeping. I nearly choked on my tongue as my eyes scanned across his perfectly chiseled torso. His skin had a satiny glow under the blazing sun overhead, and a light smattering of dark hair covered his chest, tapering all the way down to a thin line pointing straight towards his shorts like nature’s arrow. I was speechless as he walked to a more advanced ring course. We followed silently behind.

His muscles rippled under his skin as he jumped to grab that first ring. His arms were rock solid as he swung from the first ring toward the second. He maneuvered his body with such mastery along the course that bystanders gathered to watch. He paused only briefly from ring five to ring six, glancing down to his son with a teasing smile. “Should I go for it?” he asked.

Jonathan’s head bobbed up and down. “Go for it, Dad!”

Drew swung easily all the way to the end of the course, where he used two rings to do a flip and hold before he dismounted. When he landed on both feet in the sand, his audience of fans clapped, even though I was willing to wager not one of them knew who he was. He gave them a salute before he trotted over to where we stood. He grabbed the shirt I had forgotten I was holding to wipe the glistening sweat from his face and chest.

Though I never considered myself one of those girls who would go bug-eyed over a hot physique, I found myself unable to speak.

He wore that same affable grin. “Your turn.”

I shook my head but Jonathan bounced next to me. “Yes! Rachel, do it!”

“Do I look like a gymnast to you people?” I asked as they pulled me back to the wussier course.

Drew took me by the hand and guided me under that first ring. “You can do this. Summon your superpower,” he added with a wink.

I glanced at the ring and shook my head. “This is more your thing,” I said, but Drew was undaunted. He stepped closer, and I had to physically stop myself from taking a step back.

“I’ll help you,” he said softly as he wrapped those strong hands around my waist. “Jump,” he commanded softly.

I jumped, and he effortlessly lifted me higher to reach the ring. “Swing backward, use your momentum to get to the next ring,” he instructed, his hands still around my waist as he guided me to swing to the next ring. I missed it twice before I grabbed it in my hand, but I couldn’t muster the transition to the third ring.

“You got it, Rachel,” he said.

I tried to swing and let go, but ended up slipping right out of the ring and toppling headlong into the sand, taking one of the most powerful men in the world along with me. We landed together in a thud, his body covering my own.

For a moment, I was completely discombobulated. His eyes drifted to my open mouth as I gasped.

Jonathan was on his knees beside us in a flash. “Are you OK?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Drew’s mouth as those knowing eyes scanned my face. “She’s perfect. Aren’t you, Rachel?”

Granted it is not uncommon for me to break down my Asshole Heroes, rather gleefully in fact, to turn them into something even remotely resembling a Prince Charming worthy of the heroines and happily ever afters we all want for them. With some stories, this is more of a struggle than others. With Drew, we battled daily. Just when he would do something terrible, where I was absolutely sure no one could forgive him, he'd take control back away from me. He was Drew Fullerton, g*ddammit, and he was going to have his way one way or the other.

“Tell me, Rachel,” he continued as he fit my body against his hardening contours, “do you long to be held? To be kissed?” He bent toward me and whispered, “To be taken?”

My brain scrambled as he lifted me up to crush his mouth on mine. It was every dream realized, though I was blissfully conscious. I groaned under him as he parted my lips and dominated my mouth. Every alarm in my head sounded, but my treacherous body ignored each and every one as it strained for him with a hunger so strong I felt powerless to control it.

His fingers wound in my hair as he stole the very breath from my lungs with each kiss. His mouth dragged to my neck, his breath hot in his ear. “Tell me you want me, Rachel.”

I shuddered against him. “Drew.”

“Tell me,” he begged in a hoarse whisper as his hands slid down the arch of my back and over the curve of my hip.

My hands braced on his chest, but instead of pushing myself away, my palms delighted in how solid he felt. This was no dream. It was real. He was real. This was actually happening. It sent a jolt through my entire body. “I don’t want you,” I eked out in a pitiful whisper.

“Liar,” he growled as he picked me up into his arms and carried me around to the bed.

So... yeah. Suffice it to say, I couldn't say no to Drew either.

Drew is such a strong presence to me that I can't even cast him, even if I wanted to. I have never found anyone anywhere who matches the guy I have pictured in my head. I have yet to find the man who is that intoxicating mix of male beauty and sheer strength, one with a strong chin and sculpted cheekbones, or those bright eyes framed with jet black lashes that only make those icy blue depths appear bottomless. And they need to be intense. He needs to be intense, with such a powerful aura that alone will take your breath away. All the physical stuff is just gravy. But even then, their hair isn't black enough. Their eyes aren't blue enough. They don't have his same physical build, which I can only describe by referring to Bruce Willis in his David Addison Days. Tall but not too tall. Broad but not too big. Strong enough to take control of an embrace, but slight enough that you don't disappear entirely. The kind of guy that whether he's wearing a suit or nothing at all, you kinda want to climb just like a rock wall.



(That's one of the songs from the playlist, by the way. And quite appropriately, I think.)

Ian Somerhalder comes the closest, but even he looks almost too boyish for the picture I have in my head.

He left a lasting impression on my readers and reviewers, too. From Bookworm Betties:

If you take a chance on Drew, I can only tell you that he will break your heart. Repeatedly. Despite his being a gazillionaire Hottie McBody, he's a real fixer upper. He was born out of the ashes of my own life. I met my first husband when I was 17 and he was 27. For the next seven years, I walked through the fires of bipolar hell without even knowing what it was. He struggled with two parts of himself, the good one, the one who would walk my mother to her car in the snow so she wouldn't slip, and the "Shadow," the one who would push his weight around even (sometimes especially if) if it terrified around him. It was his way or the highway, and God help anyone who might challenge him.

Drew was born from this dominant side and brings with him all the complications that entails. He needs the love of a good, strong woman to save him from the curse of his family name. Whether she does or doesn't, I won't say. This is strictly a spoiler-free zone, simply because these books have a stronger emotional impact if things are revealed in the timeline of the books.

I will only say that if you're the kind of person who needs a warning to read a book, these are *not* the books for you. In fact, you might want to skip my catalog altogether.

Discover Drew Fullerton in ENTICED, which is free across all platforms.

Swoon-a-Palooza Book Boyfriend #5 - Jonah Riley

For today's blog, I'm featuring a tall glass of Southern Comfort by the name of Jonah Riley.

Confession: I don't like to do people on the covers of my books. I would go so far as to say I have a bias against it when I myself am browsing for books to read. Personally I find it intrusive. When I read a book, part of the experience is conjuring up what these people and places look like. Every single book is different in that way, just based on the perspective of whoever is reading it. That's the beauty of imagination, and I never want to interfere that egregiously with the process.

And even if I did like it, the worst part of it is that I can never, ever find anyone who matches the person I, as the creator, see in my head. There are times that I'll use actors as physical prototypes, mentally casting them so I can watch them act out the scenes for me and bring them to life. And so finding someone to use on a cover is always a bit of a let down, particularly when most of my heroines are NOT the women typically photographed in heated embraces. Unless I have thousands of dollars to spend on specific models, which, sadly, I don't, then I usually have to rely on stock photos and my own skills as an intermediate graphic artist. (Trivia time: I design all my own covers.) Finding larger women, particularly white women, in these photos, being all fierce and sexy, is a bit of a challenge.

Finding men is even trickier, because I am picky when it comes to what makes a man "hot." Despite what many men think about the "desperate" nature of a fat girl, I'm not that easily impressed. If ten good-looking men walked into a room, odds are maybe one of them would make me look twice. They have to have a certain... something, and it usually goes way beyond what someone looks like on the outside. I've gone through thousands of photos and maybe saved a tenth of them, if that. Some I haven't used because other folks have used them first, but inevitably they cross over because that's the way it goes with stock photos, and you have to tread carefully.

That being said, I write in a genre that many times puts people on the cover. So I have begrudgingly dipped my toe in that pool a time or two. (The original Groupie and Fierce series did not have people on the cover, the new ones do.) Because of this, I typically try to find the people FIRST now, for promotional material if nothing else, and then build the story around them. It just saves time.

With my SOUTHERN ROCKER TRILOGY, I found Lacy first. In fact, I found her looking for someone else and just saved her so that I could write about her some day. The picture was that provocative to me.

The minute I saw her, I saw a rock star in the making, one with toughness and edge. I've never written that kind of heroine before and I was ready to jump in. I ended up creating Jonah before I ever found a model that fit what I wanted to do with this character. All I knew is that he had tawny eyes, because that sounded really sexy to me. I began my search high and low, and finally I happened upon this little hottie...

It's because of him Jonah eventually grows a beard. The reason he didn't have it in the first place? I didn't have the photo yet. (Which is why the model on book one has his back turned.)

Jonah is a sexy southern boy from the great state of Texas. I know a bit about those kind of men considering I was born and raised there. I had an idea of what would make him the kind of man I always wanted to meet. He had manners, of course. He loved his family. He was smooth, like fine aged whiskey. He knew how to two-step and could fill out a pair of skin-tight Wranglers like nobody's business. He could ride a horse as easily as strum a guitar, and all he ever wanted was to make an honest living to take care of the people he loved.

He loved women and women loved him, but he had a code. He wasn't going to lead anyone on and he wasn't ever going to say "I love you" unless he had met The One. Such a declaration was a promise he knew he couldn't break. This ladies' man wasn't a heart-breaker if he could help it.

He would need to be strong, because a really strong woman needs a really strong man. And Lacy is full of piss and vinegar. She has no use for men. She is single-minded in her pursuit of a lifelong dream - to be a singer.

Jonah decides if that's one way he can get closer to her, he'd be a singer too.

Just like that, my Southern Rockers were born.

Because of their personalities, I decided to write this trilogy a little differently. I wrote my first book from a male POV in SOUTHERN ROCKER BOY, where you get to know Jonah first. You get inside his head. You know what he's thinking, but Lacy remains a frustrating mystery. In SOUTHERN ROCKER CHICK, it's all Lacy's POV, where you learn why she does the things she does. Both of these books end at the same moment in time, which is where SOUTHERN ROCKER SHOWDOWN picks up. This book, written in third person, encompasses ALL of the people you've met in the first two books, so if you haven't read both books, you might be a little lost. Not a lot, but maybe a smidge.

Sadly, more people have read SOUTHERN ROCKER BOY than SOUTHERN ROCKER CHICK. I think that is because people are afraid of reading the same story twice. I can guarantee you that isn't the case here. Whereas Jonah's story picks up right around the time these two meet, Lacy's story starts years before, way back when she was a twelve-year-old girl. SOUTHERN ROCKER CHICK covers ten years, and is more the kind of book I read growing up. It wasn't just about one couple as much as it was about one person's life. In her story, Jonah is a mystery, someone she has to figure out if she can trust after a lifetime of being let down by any man who claimed to love her.

Because of this critical backstory, Jonah doesn't come in until about the last third, which is where the two stories overlap. Scenes and dialogue are repeated, but with a shift of perspective. This was an interesting exercise in what is said versus what is heard/understood. Much of our human interaction involves those things we DON'T say, and many times we can get things wrong when we don't openly communicate. The Lacy you meet in Jonah's story is vastly different than the Lacy you meet in her story, simply because you're in her head, not his. Likewise, the Jonah you meet in Lacy's story is a bit more mysterious than the guy in SOUTHERN ROCKER BOY. They don't know the true motivations behind a stranger's smile, so they have to fill it in with their particular history. Essentially, though, it is only half the story, shaded and guided by each individual's unique perspective.

With this trilogy, I wanted to explore what that old saying meant about three sides to every story; his side, her side and the cold hard truth.

Unfortunately most people have skipped her side altogether, which makes me sad for her. I would have never written this saga without her motivating me to do so, and her story was so much fun to write because it covered so much ground I never really get to cover, like being in the brain of an adolescent girl, or young lady on the brink of womanhood. Critical events in those vulnerable times can (and did) change everything.

Oh, and did I mention that Vanni will show up in that backstory, which coincided on the timeline as the same time he happened to be visiting Austin in Groupie? He actually is a pretty big catalyst in Lacy's life, and not necessarily in a good way.

But I mean I get it. Jonah is compelling. He was fun to write, although it was odd being inside the man's head for a change. He's one of my "Good Guys" though, so it was a pretty safe place to roam. The Douche Bags are always more fun to peel back layer by layer. With my Good Guys, I can dive in the deep end. I know they won't disappoint.

I love Jonah for a variety of reasons. He's the kind of man I wanted to raise my sons to be, and pretty much did. He's got the code of honor of my son Tim, and the easy laid back nature of my son Jeremiah. He's out to have a good time but he's not out to use people or hurt people. He actually values women, starting with his own mother and sister. You want to talk about swoon-worthy, check out this scene with his sister, who suffers from Cystic Fibrosis.

Again, we heard Leah coughing. “I’ve got it,” I said before lumbering down the darkened hallway to my sister’s sunny yellow room. It had been painted to replicate the outside world she had loved so much. Since she had been sick so much in her childhood, she wasn’t able to enjoy the outdoors as much as she wanted. So Daddy brought a little bit of sunshine indoors for her, hoping it would boost her spirits and keep her well. I rushed to her side as she hacked and sputtered. “I’m here,” I said softly and her bloodshot eyes met mine. She couldn’t say a word, but conveyed her gratitude with the squeeze of my hand.

“Sing to me,” she croaked, and of course I complied. How could I not? Her eyes were as clear as a blue summer day, and her long brown hair tangled in two pigtails, resting on her sweaty nightgown stained with sputum. She was like a stained glass window, scratched and cracked, but beautiful and priceless. Wordlessly I reached under her bed and fetched my guitar. It was the most logical place to keep it, considering I never sang or played anywhere else.

Leah was my audience of one.

I picked one of her favorites. Somewhere Over the Rainbow had been a sentimental favorite for my little sister from the first time she watched The Wizard of Oz. She was three when she first became enchanted with wizards and cowardly lions and flying monkeys, and I had sung that song to her every week since.

She leaned against her propped pillows as I sang softly. I knew she wanted to join in so badly, but she could barely breathe, much less whisper. She mouthed the words as I lent her my voice. After the last note faded, her hand touched mine.

“Love you,” her voice strangled to say before trailing off. Instead she made a heart with her hands, resting it on her heaving chest as she gave me a brave smile. The littlest Riley, the strongest fighter of us all.

That's the kind of man Jonah is. Just like Graham Baxter who came before him (and who shows up in his story too, by the way,) Jonah is a bit of a white knight. Not so surprisingly, this is how he first meets our lovely heroine, right when she needs someone the most.

I headed out to my truck by ten-thirty. Before I could turn the key, I spotted someone across the parking lot kicking and screaming at a POS special with its hood up.

That someone was wearing ripped blue jeans and a hoodie.

I started the truck and drove slowly over to her section of the darkened, mostly abandoned parking lot. Most of the crowd, including those who were giving her the most grief, were all inside getting their buzz on, listening to the next act.

I rolled down my window as I got to her. “Having trouble?”

She whirled around to glare at me. When she saw my face she rolled her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said as she turned around to the stalled vehicle.

I stopped the truck and slid out. “You may be fine but your car is on its last leg.” I glanced down at the engine, which looked to be about a hundred years old. “Let me give you a ride.”

She glanced me over with disdain. “Yeah, no thanks.”

“Fine, then how about a jump?”

“How about get lost?” she snapped. “Go play Boy Scout somewhere else.”

She was clearly pissed, but I would have been too after what happened after her gig. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help,” she spat.

“Look, I know it’s been a rough night…,” I started but she whirled around, a tiny, fiery bundle of fury.

“Do you understand English? Get lost!”

My blood started to boil. “Fine! Stay here all night. See if I care.” I turned toward the truck, but before I got to the driver’s side I stopped myself. She wasn’t angry with me, I tried to remind myself. I couldn’t very well leave her there, not with all the aggressive drunks who had tried to get at her in the club. They wouldn’t stop at no, and that was no kind of guy to run into in a dark parking lot. I took a deep breath before I turned back and walked over to the car.

Her eyes widened as I approached. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m helping you,” I told her before I circled her waist with my hands and lifted her away from her car so I could figure out what was wrong with it. “Too bad you’re too damned stubborn to see that.”

“Fuck you!” she spat, hissing at me like an angry cat.

I ignored her as I fiddled with the engine. I sidestepped her to climb inside and turn the key. Nothing. I got out, rounding to the front of the car to test the connections. Despite the ancient car, the battery was new. I retrieved my tools from my truck and within a minute her car fired to life. She stood staring at me, stupefied.

“Connection was loose,” I told her as I put my tools back in the box. “Shouldn’t give you any more trouble.”

I put the tool box back in the bed of the truck before I hopped in the cab and gunned my own engine. She walked, reluctantly, to my window. “Thank you,” she managed.

I looked her in those big doe eyes, which were a lot more contrite than angry. “You’re welcome.”

“I’d offer you money, but…,” she trailed off, looking embarrassed.

I held her gaze for just a minute longer before I said, “Don’t worry about it. Finding out you are a woman and not just a feral cat was payment enough.”

I left her sputtering behind me as I squealed out of the parking lot.

Needless to say there's a LOT of heat between these two. They're both struggling to keep control and you know what I already told you about power being sexy. It's a struggle from the beginning with these two, and it gets pretty intense...

Lacy doesn't make it easy for him, but Jonah's no quitter. He'll fight all the way to the bitter end, for love, for family and for the honor of being a true southern gentleman.

As for who I would cast, I have no idea. It was hard enough to find the photo.

But here's their song... let your imagination fill in the rest.



For a limited time only, I have put the SOUTHERN ROCKER TRILOGY in the Kindle Unlimited program, so that means you get to read all three for free. For today only, SOUTHERN ROCKER GIRL is free for EVERYONE, so get your copy and give it a read. It's definitely not some rehash of another book. Hopefully you'll come to love Lacy as much as I did when I fell for her photo.

Swoon-a-Palooza Book Boyfriend #4- Graham Baxter

I have to say that I have been looking forward to today. It would be fair to say that all my book boyfriends have some qualities of my husband, Steven, in them. It started with Jake Dalton (we'll get to him in a few,) where I inserted Steven's humor and no-nonsense attitude, which helped balance Shannon, who led more with her heart and not her brain.

But Graham embodies Steven's inner white knight in a way that all my younger guys (Jace and Jonah for instance,) will eventually work their way up to mastering. Why else do you think he keeps showing up book after book, essentially showing them the way? To be blunt, Graham is who ALL my book boyfriends should aspire to be. He's stable, mostly. (Angst makes fools of us all.) He knows how to make a woman feel like she's the most important thing in the world, which definitely filled the void left by certain manwhores who chased after "strange" to feed their ego. *COUGH*Vanni*COUGH*.



Graham was a rock, one that Andy knew she could count on. More than that, he had the stability and the resources to make her dreams come true, which, of course, was all he wanted to do because he cared about her happiness more than his own. (Mostly.)

My best friend often asked me as he read the book, "Does Graham have a gay brother??" (And when I told him last night that this was who I was blogging today, I was met with an enthusiastic "TEAM GRAHAM!")

But it was Steven himself that made someone initially intended to be a minor character into the man he ultimately became.

Truthfully, Graham wasn't part of the original outline to Groupie, which I had always intended to be a standalone book. I wanted to put my couple through the paces and give them their happily ever after, just like a good little romance writer is supposed to do. At first, I indulged the rock-n-roll fantasy quite selfishly. I had waited a good long while (32 years) to scratch this particular itch, and I wrote Vanni so tempting to me personally that I just wanted to have a little fun with him for a while.

I was also working some shit through in Groupie, so of course Vanni came with a lot of built-in complications that I needed to navigate on paper, even if I couldn't make the people around me at the time act the way I wanted them to act. You know... honestly and forthright, kind of what they had built themselves up to be. Instead I felt used, deluded and rejected for not being (insert anything I really wasn't here) enough. This was a point in my life that I felt like I was being misled, led on and generally neglected and tossed aside no matter what I did personally to help other people and be there for them, so I was tearing through the bullshit in the only way I knew how - through a story.

When Andy and Vanni get to Vegas in Book One, Andy was standing there all alone at an after-party, looking incredible but feeling invisible thanks to the girl(s) on Vanni's arm as he lived the great rock star life. Since I knew a lot about that personally, and how much it SUCKED, I decided to give her a little ego boost via a handsome stranger, who would look at Andy and see that she was enough. He'd find her attractive. He'd act on that. He'd treat her like all of us girls want to be treated; like she was special.

Graham starting tickling my ear in the following passage:

The V.I.P. spots were reserved in the balcony, which meant I couldn’t get a front-row seat. I sat with the other executives and high rollers, but Jasper, Athena and Lourdes were all M.I.A. Instead I chatted with one of the other band’s managers and the champagne flowed while the four acts performed.

So later, whenever Andy showed up at the after-party, it was only natural to expound on this person a little more. When I first introduced him into the scene, he didn't even have a name. He was just "some manager" for another band performing at the music festival. He was supposed to take her for a spin around the dance floor and that was it. Yeah, I presumed that it would stoke Vanni's jealousy a bit, to see his best girl (and he knew damned well she WAS his best girl, even if he didn't know what to do with her half the time,) being romanced by another.

I quietly exited the balcony area after they left the stage, heading back downstairs to the club that hosted the huge after-party celebrating the first night of the concert series. At first I didn’t see any of the guys, and I felt a little awkward standing there by myself looking like a lost rabbit.

“I hate these things,” I heard a male voice say from behind. I turned to see the manager I sat next to during the first couple of acts. His name was Graham something-or-another, and he had flown in from L.A. to support the opening act.

We had only shared insignificant small talk during the concert, but he was a familiar face at least. “Me too,” I said. “Someone needs to tell famous people not everything is cause for celebration.”

He laughed and then looked down at the empty glass in my hand. “Can I get you another?”

“Sure,” I said, and followed him over to the bar.

He ordered my drink and then turned to me. “Andrea, right?”

“Andy,” I corrected. “And you’re Graham…?”

“Baxter,” he supplied in good humor, then handed me my drink. “So do you work at a firm in Los Angeles?”

I shook my head. “I’m actually just a writer from Nashville, doing a favor for a friend.”

He laughed. “I guess that’s not so bad then. You can come out here, have fun, then go back to the real world on Monday.”

I smiled. “That’s the idea.”

“In that case,” he said as he put his glass on the bar, “Allow me to contribute slightly to the debauchery. Dance with me.”

I started to shake my head but out of the corner of my eye I saw Vanni walk into the room with Lourdes on his arm. I swallowed down the handful of rocks that had mysteriously appeared in my throat, smiled at Graham and said, “Sure.”

He walked me to the center of the floor, and of course the minute we get out there one of DIB’s more suggestive tunes played overhead. Graham rested his arm around my waist and casually pulled me close. “They’re really good,” he said near my ear, referring to the band. “It kills me Jasper Carrington got to them first.”

“Timing is everything,” I remarked as I tried not to look at Vanni, where he stood now with Lourdes at the bar.

“If they ever want a change in management, give them my number,” he said.

I chuckled. “I will.”

He looked down at me with a devilish grin. “And you can have it too. You know, in case things get too boring in Nashville.”

I laughed. He had to be at least forty-five years old, with short, dark hair and a touch of silver at the temples. But he had the warmest brown eyes I had ever seen and a nice smile. There were worse ways to spend an evening in Las Vegas than flirting with a harmless stranger.

I glanced back over at the bar only to spy Vanni and Lourdes dancing close in the corner. This caused me to grip Graham’s shoulders a little tighter, which he seemed to take as a green light to pull me even closer.

The beat of the song was sensual and intense, like a quickening heartbeat. “Say my name,” Vanni crooned from every speaker overhead. “I’ve got what you’ve been waiting for.” I closed my eyes and allowed Graham to swing me around the floor with some fancier footwork. I followed where he guided, surprised my feet even knew what to do to keep up. It didn’t take long for me to realize some other dancers had moved out of our way to watch us dance. Some of the other guys in the band had come into the club and set up a table in the back with Jasper, who had now arrived. Felix watched me curiously as my dance partner led me into a sexier move in time to the beat. As the song ended Graham dipped me backward with a playful grin and I giggled in spite of myself.

We walked back to the bar. “Not bad for a guy who hates these things.”

“Necessary evil,” he informed. “Besides, my wife insisted we take dance lessons for our wedding.”

I glanced down at his hand. I hadn’t noticed a ring. “You’re married?”

“Occasionally,” he responded in good humor. “It’s an expensive hobby, I’m afraid.”

He perched on the barstool next to mine. “How about you, Andy? Anyone special waiting for you in Nashville?”

I nodded. “His name is Simon.” Graham’s grin faltered just a tad. So I went on. “He’s extremely jealous. And a cover hog. And can unravel a roll of toilet paper in ten seconds flat.”

His eyebrow rose, then together we said, “He’s a cat.” He laughed and then leaned closer to me. “So it wouldn’t be extremely inappropriate then if I gave you my phone number?”

“I suppose not,” I said with a slight blush. “After all that’s information I need if the band ever decides to make a change in management, right?”

He glanced over to where Jasper sat with the band, along with Vanni and Lourdes. Then he looked back with a serious expression. “It may be in poor taste and completely self-serving for me to say so, but I hope that they do. Jasper knows how to make people but he also knows how to break them, too. It can be a toxic environment. He’s going to offer the sun and the moon but God help the person who crosses him. And sometimes that just means standing up for yourself or your principles.”

I looked back at their table. Graham’s warning echoed what Vanni had said back in Brooklyn. His life was not his own, and he felt powerless to change it. Graham dug a card out of his coat pocket, pausing only briefly to write something on the back.

He slipped the card across the bar toward me. I reached for it and he placed his hand on mine. “That warning goes for you too,” he added. “In case you need it.”

His eyes were kind and sincere. Almost fatherly. “Thanks,” I said.

He motioned for the check. “And on that note, I think it’s time I return to the normal, quiet world of my hotel room.” He took my hand in his and brought it to his lips. “But thank you for a lovely dance, Andy from Nashville.”

He graciously paid for both of our tabs, and my eyes lingered after him as he departed. He stopped only momentarily at DIB’s table to say congratulations to the band and to Jasper, who didn’t seem all that pleased to see him. I used the distraction to look down at the business card. My eyes widened when I caught the name of his company. This wasn’t some mid-tier manager. This was Graham Baxter of Baxter Mega-Worldwide Media Corporation… the only record label in the country that could stand toe to toe with Jasper Carrington.

More curious I flipped the card over. The message he had written: Room #1225.

Slowly Graham revealed himself to me in that scene, including the way he went for what he wanted. I was just a hair ahead of Andy the whole way as I got to know this new, intriguing gentlemen. He was sophisticated, he was charming, he was commanding. He was everything a successful man should be. Little did either of us know he was a puzzle piece that was about to slide into place, tying up so many strings that were just lying about unresolved. I've learned to trust my storytelling instincts over the years. Nothing is ever "nothing," including his leaving her a card with his hotel room number. And just like that, Graham landed in my universe and has refused to let go.

I received some criticism about Graham, in that a record producer with that kind of money and clout could *never* want a size-16 girl, much less battle an mega-hot rocker for her affection. The (size-16) lady who wrote the review said it just wasn't "realistic."

I think Ashley Graham might disagree...

If you think two men wouldn't fight over that, you don't know that many quality men, because only an asshole would discount a quality woman based on her size alone. While I realize that our culture is populated way more with those types of guys, and they are pretty damned vocal about that kind of thing, that doesn't mean there aren't PLENTY of men out there who not only accept bigger women, they kind of really have a passion for them.

True story: I met Steven online, through an AOL chat room. In 1999, the Internet was place you could meet new folks, and I had been testing the waters for a while. At first I, like this particular critic, thought that guys wouldn't give me a chance if they knew how much I weighed. So I did what a lot of people tend to do... I edited that information out.

Oh, who am I kidding? I lied.

And yes, there were PLENTY of men who fell hard for the person I was pretending to be. If you put my personality in Scarlett Johansson's body, guys find the combination quite attractive. Many of the guys that clamored for me the most were generally already married, and were no Ryan Reynolds themselves. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) Because I actually wanted to meet folks men for real, I decided I could lie no longer. I'd just be me, and that would have to be enough. The minute I put BBW (big beautiful woman) on my profile, I got SLAMMMMMMMMMMMED with more attention than I knew what to do with. That was surprising enough. That it was by young, single, good-looking men was the real jaw-dropper. Poets. Actors. Professionals. They were all eager to get to know me. The REAL me. It was quite the revelation. Granted some of the younger ones had fetishes (to be dominated by a larger woman,) but I also managed to find some hotties just for the casual good time I was looking for, men who liked me not only because of what I thought and said, but how I looked, too. They thought I was sexy and I was WAY bigger than a size 16.

The night I met Steven, we ended up talking on the computer for a few hours, and on the phone an hour or so more. When I confessed to him I was a BBW, just to make sure he wasn't going to bail like some men did, he didn't even know what that meant. I told him, "It stands for big beautiful woman." He said, "Oh, I don't care about that." And he legitimately didn't. I sent him my photo and we met within a week. On our first date, he not only bought me a rose from the flower lady at the restaurant, he made out with me right there in the booth in front of everyone. His passion for me was clear right from the start, because he wasn't afraid to show it. (That, too, was a revelation.)

Seventeen years later and he's still around, often fighting to stay when everything should drive him away. I think he's sticking around. He does everything in his power to make me feel happy and beautiful and loved. If that's not a quality man, I sure don't know what is.

Many years later, when we went to the Charmageddon viewing party, Steven charmed every single woman at our table by buying them roses, making them laugh and generally making them feel attractive and valuable. Whether they were big or small, he didn't care. He wanted them to feel beautiful, because he thinks every single woman SHOULD feel that way. MEANWHILE a former Pick-up Artist wannabe sat in the corner and talked to nobody. One guess who was the guy getting laid that night.

So tell me again why I should bend over backwards to attract those kinds of guys, because I sure don't see the benefit in it.

This idea that all men - and certainly the most desirable men - won't like you if you're fat is such a tired, played crock of shit, I deliberately make my book boyfriends smoking hot to show doubting Thomases (and Thomasinas) that this IS realistic. It happens in the real world all the time. People buy what you tell them. Whether you think you're fat and ugly or sexy as hell and rule like a queen, they'll agree. That was the entire POINT of Groupie, and why I wrote Andy the way that I did.

Why couldn't a successful record mogul AND a rock star love Andy? She was a smart, strong, independent lady who could give as good as she got. She was funny, she was kind, she was a devoted friend and a talented go-getter who knew how to make things happen. She didn't need a man to make her dreams come true. She was fully capable of doing that for herself. She was a sensual creature who didn't need outside attention to own her own sexuality, to see past all the superficial boys who might discard her for her size to find the men who might value her for ALL of who she is, not just something as arbitrary and as superficial as her dress size. Do you really, *really*, think that two intelligent, sensual, successful men wouldn't find this single lady attractive at the same time and want to battle it out to see who might be the best man? Just because of her size, which happens to be about the average of most women? Are you freaking kidding me?? What a sad, limited world view. So glad it isn't mine. I don't entertain the fantasy that I have to be someone ELSE to live a fabulous life full of the love I desire. I write the books I want to read, that tell me that I can be loved for who I am. That IS my reality. And I'm damned proud to offer that viewpoint into the world.

It became crystal clear to me, particularly after Andy's trip to L.A., that my new "triangle" presented a pretty significant challenge to my original HEA. Let's face it. Where Vanni was a boy chasing after the attention of others just to patch up his ego, Graham was a successful executive who could offer Andy the entire world, including the love and stability she deserved. I knew it. My best friend Jeff knew it. And Steven knew it, too. By the time I got to the cruise, he told me in no uncertain terms that if Andy chose Vanni, he couldn't buy that ending. It wasn't believable and he just didn't understand it. "She's too smart to do something that dumb." He said it felt cheated, like I was patching it up just to end the story. Graham was simply the better choice, and it would have been emotionally unsatisfying for him to see her just forgive and forget all that Vanni had done. Graham was free to love her and made sure to stay that way. Unlike Vanni, who filled his arms and bed on the regular, Graham was prepared to offer himself as a one-woman-man to her... provided she could let go of Vanni.

Of course she couldn't, because I mean hello? It's Vanni. She tried, God bless her. I always chuckle when people say that she let him get away with stuff and always took him back, when she spent most of her time trying to stay away from him. (This is why there are three books, people.) In those times that she couldn't, because her future was so deeply entwined with his because of her friends and the work she wanted to do, he was like a hit of heroin for her. (Who of us hasn't had one of THOSE guys in our past?)

There was a reason this was her song for Vanni...



On paper, it just made sense that she'd choose Graham. She grew up without a father, and he provided a strong, loving influence that she knew she could trust. Honestly it's the best kind of triangle, because she couldn't help but love BOTH these very different men for very different reasons. Talk about being torn. Even *I* am torn, to this day.

Vanni just had to learn how to embody more of Graham in order to deserve her, and that wasn't going to happen in one book.

Because of that... and because Graham deserved (demanded) to have his story told as well, I kept going. And wouldn't you know it? He shows up in almost every other book I can think of, just because I myself can't let him go.

Sure he had a little stumble off his pedestal in ROCK STAR, but who can blame him? He was going through some stuff. This powerful man got tested in a pretty big way. He was understandably a little selfish and entitled. But Graham is as perfect a book boyfriend as I can imagine, which is why I'm so glad I'm married to his prototype. That a stubborn redhead was introduced into Graham's life to whip him into shape was no accident.

As for who I would cast, I'm torn between two. I wrote it leaning heavily towards RDJ, but the Cloonster would make an *amazing* Graham. Swoon-a-palooza, indeed. Maybe I'll have to give my bestie Graham's gay brother after all... (and he might be closer than you think...)

So that's Graham. Get to know him in GROUPIE, which is free to read across all platforms. His story continues through ROCK STAR and MOGUL, and he plays a pretty significant role in FIERCE, UNSTOPPABLE and EPIC, and returns in my SOUTHERN ROCKER trilogy. He pops up in books outside the GROUPIE universe, in THE UNDISCIPLINED BRIDE, ENTANGLED and even the MASTERS saga (in MASTERS FOR LIFE and MASTERS FOREVER.)

Not bad for a nameless character who showed up to dance with a lonely lady. He wedged his way into my world and made it impossible not to love him. And I'm never letting him go. Never, ever, ever.

Swoon-a-Palooza Book Boyfriend #3 - Nicholas Sterling

Okay, so another fun fact about me, I grew up on a steady diet of Danielle Steel and Stephen King, with a heaping helping of V.C. Andrews on the side. This probably explains A LOT. I like my love stories mired in angst, walking the line of what's accepted and what's not. I don't mind genre bending, so it's not uncommon to see me blend a couple of different elements, like love and death.

This brings us to MY IMMORTAL.

MY IMMORTAL I have classified as a paranormal romance, but it works as a Gothic love story or a tale of horror. I decided to write about vampires, but not so much to write about falling in love with one. The whole premise came to me while talking to my best friend late one night, when one of us remarked that we must have been vampires in our past lives, since we have always been constant night owls since we were kids.

A reincarnated vampire... with a delightful idea FULL of possibilities. That got the ol' brain working. How exactly WOULD a vampire be reincarnated? And to what point and purpose would a cursed soul get another chance to human? By dawn, I had the entire story in my head, ready to go.

I wrote it first as a screenplay, so it is no coincidence if it reads like a movie. I adapted it to book form for my first Nanowrimo, which I live-blogged on Myspace. (That should date it for ya.) The story has changed a lot since I gave birth to it in 2004, but the core story remains as poignant to me as ever.

I wrote it the year after my first husband died, so needless to say I was processing through a lot of stuff. Like most Gothic tales, it reads like a tragedy, but that's kind of the most beautiful thing about it. Not so surprisingly, it was inspired heavily by this song...



...which had become my song for Dan from the moment I first saw the video. Needless to say that the story itself is quite gray, in that there's a lot of murky emotion to wade through. Life and death. Sex and pain. Destiny and cursed reality. Motherhood. Childhood. Loss. Chasing down and confronting more emotional demons than I can count. And love. Powerful, overwhelming love. A love so strong it can penetrate the very fabric of time - and death - itself. A love so powerful that it makes all the other stuff worth it.

This isn't an easy read. It's a bloody and broken read. It was me at my weakest, trying to be strong. I have a lot in common with Adele.

Coming up with Nicholas wasn't that difficult to do. He had to be so compelling and so appealing that I myself couldn't say no to him, even as I contemplated the unthinkable - that my lead hero was a cold, bloodsucking killer. Vampires scare the shit out of me, more than any other lore, mostly because they compel you to your own death. You walk to it willingly because they are so seductive. These themes keep me twisted as a Scorpio. So I did what a lot of young writers tend to do. I cast someone in his place.

Of course this eight years before Barnabas Collins. I was also a few years off when I mentally cast Jim Carrey in my movie about the devil, two years before he got to play God. I suppose this means my instincts are good, even if my timing sucks.

Speaking of sucky timing, the character of Thaddeus Dragomir was HEAVILY inspired by David Bowie's Jareth from Labyrinth. In my dreams, he definitely would have played the part.



Hey, I dream big. That's what I do. This was also the first project I rewrote to include a part for Hal Sparks, which was kind of fitting. His debut album with his band Zero 1 ended up providing a lot of music for my mental soundtrack, adding to so many songs I can't even hear anymore without thinking of this story and the key scenes that they inspired. Like Nicholas's songs for Adele...





Adele's songs for herself...





(That last one hurts, too. The Grim Reaper is a fucker.)

And then there are Adele's songs for Nicholas.





And yes, I realize that song was used for another vampire love story, but trust me. The lyrics fit my story to a tee.

Like I said... I'm ahead of my time.

Still, Hal wins the prize with not one but four songs that fill in the quiet parts of my story. It's really kind of eerie. Sweetheart that he is, he gave me permission to use one of these songs for the official book trailer:



I actually had to upgrade his casting from Vincent, who I added just for Hal, to Michael. It's a priest, but it's not like he hasn't played the part before.

But thanks to this gorgeous, gorgeous song, Hal is as integral to this project as anything else.



So what can I tell you about Nicholas other than that? Not much. He is a man of many secrets, with the revelations unveiled slowly in the book. It's complicated, like life is complicated. Like love is complicated, and death, and goodbye...

All I can say is that he made it worth it, every bit as much as Dan made love worth it to me. And he is the reason I fearlessly told this story, and am proud to call it my own. His short life became the reason that I decided to go for broke and live the life of my dreams, one I had only dreamed about with him. And since then, I've made that dream come true in ways we never could have imagined when we were living out of our car so many years ago.

So check out MY IMMORTAL. It's free to read through Kindle Unlimited, but it is also available free for everyone on Amazon today only. I can only hope it means as much to you that it does to me.

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. ;)