It’s been a hectic 2015 and I can’t believe we’re almost at the halfway point of the year.
My EDJ (Evil Day Job—though I love what I do) is in finance, and from December through April (really mid-May), finding time to breathe is an impossibility. The IRS and deadlines rule. When I have a spare moment, I’m scurrying to finish Prymal Hunger, and my rewrites of Manacled, Notorious, and Carnal ASAP.
The wonderfully talented and oh-so-fabulous Fiona Jade designed the new Manacled cover and here it is along with the blurb:
Rolan Paxton, The Scorpion’s celebrated wide receiver, dominated the football world for ten years. Fame, fortune fell into his lap. He rode the rainbow collecting Super Bowl wins, and women. A decade later, disillusioned and unable to pinpoint exactly what’s missing, he runs into Sarita Khan, the nose-in-a-book classmate whose virginity he claimed on prom night, a memory he’s relished for ten years.
Sarita never thought she’d see Rolan again. The NFL drafted him two days after Prom, two days after he took her virginity. What were the odds of her son’s father chartering the luxury yacht she’s crewing for a decade later? And that he’d still make her burn like he did ten years ago?
Sarita wants Rolan, but she wants her independence. Rolan’s a control freak bent on domination. Determined to master Sarita, Rolan slaps on the manacles — and turns this trip to Monaco into a pleasure cruise.
Fabulous cover, huh? Fiona used a line during the cover design that I loved—she said, “Digital Plastic Surgery is my specialty.”
OMG, the world we live in, today. 🙂
Here’s an excerpt from Manacled:
Rolan’s heart faltered, and he paused halfway into the bathroom. Oxygen evaporated. All at once enchanted, he gazed at the picture-perfect image before him.
Siren locks piled on top of her head, wispy damp curls sticking to her cheeks, Sarita slept, head pillowed on a white cushion, one knee peeking out of thick foam. A stray moonbeam, burning through a skylight, lit her face, dusting her bronzed skin with an iridescent shimmer.
Something clutched at his chest, warring with the inferno of lust threatening to blindside his planned romantic seduction. Shedding clothes in a flurry of movements, he tried all the tricks he used on the football field that had earned him the nickname “Ice Paxton.” Deep breaths, tensing and relaxing a specific muscle for a count of ten, he hooked his shirt off, and minimal control had been restored.
He needed to be inside her now.
When he opened his eyes, Sarita knelt in the bathtub, one hand on the rim, those caramel eyes widening as she took in his jutting arousal, clenched fists, and compressed lips. “Is something wrong?”
A shake of the head proved all he could manage.
She scrambled out of the tub, lifting one leg onto the marble, baring foam dripping across pink folds. The sight of sunset pubic hair damp and darkened to a mahogany shade elicited a groan.
“Jesus.” Rolan lost it. He stalked forward, scooped her into his arms, buried his face in her neck, and whispered, “I’m sorry, Sarita honey.”
He laid her on the soft, white sheepskin rug adjacent to the tub, and the moon caressed her lovingly through the skylight, bathing her in a faerie luminosity. Nudging her thighs apart with his knees, he settled there at her core, poised for entry, holding, holding.
“Kiss me, Rolan, I love your wickedly talented tongue—.”
His lips silenced her words, the firestorm they started raging through his blood, cutting off rational thought. Primordial male took over and he swarmed into her mouth, tongue thrusting, tangling with hers, hands gripping those slender hips.
She purred that low throaty growl.
And his bare edge of control shattered.
Hope that gave you a marvelous start to your Monday!
FYI, Manacled will be released this summer.