My debut romance, DIVA IN THE DUGOUT, will be up for sale at Turquoise Morning Press this week. To celebrate, this week’s My Sexy Saturday seven are from that story. (Yes, this time I’m using a snippet from the actual book, not something I cut.)
This moment comes at the end of a long, emotionally charged day, the day Dave and his daughter meet for the first time, under mamma Melinda’s watchful—and slightly green—eye. Mel’s having trouble reconciling how enamored Tara is with all things “Daddy,” in part because she, too, is still attracted to the man.
When Tara demands that Dave be the one to put her to bed and read her a bedtime story, Mel can’t resist peeking in. Touched by the sight of father and daughter together at last, her emotions are churning when she sits down on the couch with Dave.
Dave’s grin flickered on in full force, and something else melted inside her. “Renewing our acquaintance.”
There had to be something wrong with that idea, but Mel suddenly couldn’t think what. She leaned into him, her lips parted, already begging for a kiss.
His lips settled over hers and his tongue swept into her mouth. Her senses swirled with the touch of his tongue until she barely noticed he was repositioning her onto his lap.
Mel’s body remembered. Her nipples puckered and her panties grew damp in response to the erection nudging through two layers of denim. Dave deepened the kiss. His hands settled on her hips, bringing the most intimate part of her more firmly in contact with him.
Caught up in old memories and new sensations, she didn’t object when he eased her back against the arm of the couch and started fumbling with the button on her shorts. She wasn’t thinking of Tara, just upstairs, or the fact that Luanne would arrive any minute.
She wanted—no, needed—this. Sex. With Muscles. She hadn’t had intimate relations with anyone since…since a disastrous reunion attempt with Bud when Tara was nine months old.
DIVA IN THE DUGOUT, out this week!
My debut novel, DIVA IN THE DUGOUT, which comes out in less than a week, has its cover.
Isn’t it a beauty? No, wait. That’s book two, BEAUTY AND THE BALLPLAYER, which is coming out next March. (Sorry. Couldn’t resist.)
I love it! The stadium and baseball glove in the background … the models … MY name on the cover …
Of course, now that my boss pointed out Dave’s resemblance to Van Wilder, I have a hard time NOT seeing it. And that’s a shame because Greg, the hero of Untitled Book 3, is actually the one I visualized as Ryan Reynolds’ kid brother.
DIVA’s on TMP’s Coming Soon page now.
It’s Saturday! That means it’s time for My Sexy Saturday. *Cue happy dance.*
Post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words ONLY. The choice is yours. It can be from a WIP or something you already have published. Your post should be live by 9 am US Pacific Time on Saturday. Put those lucky 7s to work for you!
Since I just turned BEAUTY AND THE BALLPLAYER in to my my editor, it’s uppermost in my thoughts. This week’s sexy seven are part of a scene between Meg and Matt. They’ve just paused for a kiss in a Flagstaff park.
A whistle split the air, breaking the spell Matt had cast over her with his kiss. She looked in the direction from which it had come and saw a teenage boy grinning at them. He flashed them a thumbs-up.
Meg felt her cheeks get warm. “I think you have a fan.”
“Are you kidding? He’s probably staring at you. I’m just a guy. You’re the babe.”
There he went again, handing out unnecessary compliments. She rolled her eyes. “And you’re the baseball player. I bet he recognizes you.”
Matt shook his head and motioned at the kid, who edged closer to them, eyebrows lifted in an unspoken question. Matt asked, “Do you know who I am?”
When the teen shook his head and ambled off, Matt grinned. “Told you he was admiring you.”
“Or he was admiring your technique,” she shot back.
Beauty and the Ballplayer, coming in March 2014 from Turquoise Morning Press.
It was a Q-and-A, and one question in particular caught my eye:
Do you believe in “writer’s block”? If so, how do you avoid it?
“Other people say it happens, and I don’t feel that I have the right to disbelieve them. It doesn’t happen to me. What I get is the urge to procrastinate or do something other than writing. Or I feel disgusted with my current output and want to just stop.
“The key is to write through that and know you’ll delete the bad bits later.”
I think he nailed it. When I get writer’s block, it’s less inability to write anything at all and more desire to do anything but write. That’s when baking cookies or cleaning out the pantry (or pinning a slew of recipes I’ll probably never have time to make) starts to sound mighty appealing.
So next time that urge hits, I’ll have to try writing through it.
I can always delete anything unsalvageable.