My Sexy Saturday: Dirty Little Secret
Welcome to my very first My Sexy Saturday. MSS is a weekly blog hop where authors post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words from one of their books based on a theme, which this week is "Bump N Sexy!" That's right. We're talking hot 'n' heavy sex where you just can't wait!
Dirty Little Secret begins with just such an encounter. Alex and Cailin meet on the dance floor -- and what happens next is oh so sexy...
* * *
Turning for a last look at the crowded dance floor, she followed him down the long hall, berating herself for the stupidity of the move but unable—or unwilling—to say no. Something deep down in her soul, some gut feeling she thought she’d lost when her marriage fell to pieces, trusted this man. Maybe it was the way he seemed to read her mind, to know what she needed before she did. The way he anticipated every move, as if even a breath didn’t escape his notice. She’d never felt like the center of a man’s entire concentration. She wanted more, wanted to bask in the intensity of Alex’s attention.
And the occasional employee passing them assured her they weren’t completely alone. If she screamed, someone would hear. Wouldn’t they?
A wide, heavy door marked, appropriately enough, OFFICE waited at the end of the passageway. Alex knocked, and a dark-haired man with classic playboy looks opened the door. The surprise on his face eased more of her worry. So this wasn’t a regular occurrence; thank God, even if she did want to sink through the floor in embarrassment.
“Damien, could I—”
“No problem.” The man didn’t ask for an explanation, and his cheeky grin said he didn’t need any. “Just lock up when you leave.” He nodded politely at Cailin before turning to walk back the way they’d come.
Alex gave a rueful snort and dragged her inside. The minute the door clicked shut, he had her backed against its unforgiving surface. “I’m sorry,” he whispered roughly. “I need—”
Cailin kissed him before he could finish.
* * *
Dirty Little Secret (and it's sequel, Naughty Little Christmas) is on sale 25% off, this month only, at All Romance ebooks, so be sure and grab your copy soon to find out all the dirty little secrets Cailin and Alex must overcome. You can read more about the books in the Secrets To Hide series here.
And be sure to check out the other My Sexy Saturday blogs here, with lots of other great snippets of "Bump N Sexy" scenes. Enjoy!
~ Ella
A Little Secret
The weekend before last I was given the privilege of teaching a small workshop at my local Romance Writers of America chapter's annual retreat. I wanted something new and a bit different from other workshop topics I'd heard often, since the writers' circuit tends to focus on certain areas (craft, business) and not on others. Say, for instance, the personal and private fears of an author. So of course that's what I chose to talk about. (I like to torture myself that way, ya know. ;) ) http://gamemoir.files.wordpress.com/2013/09/doctor-wait-what.gif
Wait, pause for the smirk. *smirk* Okay, let's get serious again.
What personal and private fears did I talk about? Fear of failure and perfectionism. I'll let you in on a little secret: I'm a perfectionist. I know, I was shocked too, but it's true! I really am a perfectionist, a hard-core one, in fact. And that drive for perfection led to some very real fears when I decided to pursue publishing, the biggest of all being, What if I fail? Now that I'm published, that fear of failure has morphed, not gone away. What if my next book isn't as good as my last? What if my publisher doesn't want any more books? What if my book doesn't perform as well as expected?
What if, what if, what if? It can become like a rat race in your head, literally driving you crazy. That's what happened to me. The "crazy" became so bad I couldn't write. All I could hear were those questions spinning through my head, unending, paralyzing, blocking out the voices of my characters and my love of writing. A problem like that doesn't just go away -- it takes time and kindness to yourself and patience and, sometimes, help from outside sources. But it can be made better. You can learn to deal with it, walk through it. It doesn't have to kill your love of writing or anything else you love to do well.
The number one thing I learned as I suffered through this tough time was this: Failure is not inevitable, but if it does happen, it's not the end of the world. (Again, shocking, I know! :) ) But I learned something else too: Failure can be just the beginning of some very satisfying things. Sometimes we have to slug through the struggles to get where we want to be.
There is a Chinese proverb that goes like this: "Failure is not falling down but refusing to get up." Don't refuse to get back up. Failure happens, but it's not always a bad thing. We don't have to be perfect; we just have to keep trying. That's what I'm striving for this year, to keep trying, keep getting better, keep moving forward. Whether that leads to failure or not, I firmly believe that it's the trying that makes us a success.
~ Ella
Funny Friday: A Peek Inside the Writer's Brain
I'm heading out for a writing retreat this weekend with my Music City Romance Writers buddies, and I am SO looking forward to it. A weekend to refill my creative well, enjoy the company of people who actually understand what I'm talking about (I know because their eyes don't glaze over!), and write, write, write! In honor of my excitement (!), here are some writing-related memes for your Funny Friday enjoyment. Yes, this is the way we think, lol! So the next time you meet your favorite author, just know that this is really how their brain works. :) Have a great weekend!
~ Ella
And if you ever wanted to know what it's like to not be able to write? This.
Presidents Day
Yes, today is Presidents Day here in the US. And yes, that means Hubby is home from work today. And yes, that means he's distracting me terribly, which is why there isn't a "real" post up today. ;) Not unless you want me to wax on about how distracting hubbies can be, but then he'd only interrupt and distract me some more and I'd never finish, so... You get the idea! I hope you and yours have a great Monday!
~ Ella
Games, Games, Games!
After a long week, my family decided to visit some friends Saturday night for a bit of board game fun. We don't play often -- it's one of those things that we have to convince ourselves to do, but once we get a game out and begin, we really enjoy. (Go figure.) Saturday, though, we found ourselves playing one of our very favorite board games: Settlers of Catan.
We played this game for the first time last year, never having heard of it before. Apparently the game is well-known for intricacies and adaptability, but we just think it's fun. :) The premise is basically the settling of a fictional land called Catan. Players earn various resources and use those resources to build and explore and establish an empire in a new land. Players barter with each other and scheme their way to riches until one of them earns enough points to be the winner.
Why is this so much fun? Honestly, I don't know. :) I am not a good schemer, but I think for me it's the "making order out of chaos" aspect of the game that's appealing. My kids love the bartering and manipulating their resources to make new things. We also have the Seafarers edition (an expansion of the original Settlers), which allows players to create shipping empires and discover new opportunities and even gold mines on convenient Catan islands. I've even heard of the game described as a sort of pioneer version of "Monopoly," and I think there are aspects of that too. The player with the most "money" (resources) wins. But there's just something primitively satisfying about making something out of nothing -- oh, and beating your opponents! That's satisfying too. :)
So, what's your favorite board game? Do you and your family have a favorite pastime that helps relieve the stress of a busy/difficult week? Let me know what it is -- I'm always looking for fun new things to try!
Have a great week! :)
~ Ella
What I'm Reading: Kresley Cole's MacRieve
Wow! That's all I can say. I first read Kresley Cole years ago when A Hunger Like No Other, the first in the Immortals After Dark series, came to bookstores. I loved it, but I could never get into the whole "race" thing that took over the next few books. I could see how an Olympic quest would be interesting, but for me, I just couldn't get into it.
Fast-forward to this past year when I saw Cole at RWA Nationals in Atlanta. She won her 2013 Rita Award and was inducted into the RWA Hall of Fame. I admit I paid special attention because Unbroken, my paranormal romance, was nominated for the Golden Heart. I remember looking up at her on the stage after I'd lost in my category, wondering if I'd ever even publish, much less be nominated for a Rita.
Though Unbroken is still on hold, I have published--and, I'm happy to say, I've read a new Kresley Cole book. :) And it has me blown away and shown me what I have to strive for. The book is MacRieve, about a damaged werewolf and his innocent half-Lorean mate. It is truly awesome. Knowing I was uncertain about the series, I picked up MacRieve reluctantly, but I couldn't resist the cover (isn't he yummy?!?!). And what was between the covers was far more pulse-pounding than the guy staring out at me from the front of the book! Here's the description from Cole's website:
A BEAST IN TORMENT
Uilleam MacRieve believed he’d laid to rest the ghosts of his boyhood. But when a brutal torture revives those ancient agonies and destroys his Lykae instinct, the proud Scot craves the oblivion of death. Until he finds her—a young human so full of spirit and courage that she pulls him ba ck from the brink.
A BEAUTY IN CHAINS
Seized for the auction block, Chloe Todd is forced to enter a terrifying new world of monsters and lore as a bound slave. When offered up to creatures of the dark, she fears she won’t last the night. Until she’s claimed by him—a wicked immortal with heartbreaking eyes, whose touch sets her blood on fire.
A FULL MOON ON THE RISE
With enemies circling, MacRieve spirits Chloe away to the isolated Highland keep of his youth. But once he takes her to his bed, his sensual mate becomes something more than human, evoking his savage past and testing his sanity. On the cusp of the full moon, can he conquer his worst nightmare to save Chloe . . . from himself?
You know me, I like dark and gritty and emotional. MacRieve was certainly a roller coaster ride in that respect. The characters felt and felt deeply. What woman wouldn't want to heal MacRieve's wounded soul? The things he has endured were horrific, but you can't heal what you don't know, and Chloe can't break down the walls her mate has put up between them. Cole has a talent for throwing together characters who are diametrically opposed, in the most believable ways, and then letting their differences wreak havoc on them. I thought MacRieve was as wounded as he could get at the beginning, but oh no, the worst was yet to come. His story touched my heart and made me cry. And though I typically focus more on the male character, Chloe tore at my heart too. I even enjoyed the soccer talk (Chloe's a pro soccer player), though I pretty much hate sports. :)
So, run, don't walk to pick up MacRieve. There's even an audio excerpt on Cole's site. This book has certainly turned my eye back toward this series. I guess now I'll have to see how long it will take me to read the other books. ;)
~ Ella
Funny Friday: Animal Crackers
This video had me cracking up from the beginning. Be sure your sound is on! [youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ssXJtzFOjA?rel=0&w=420&h=315]
~ Ella
Inspiration: "If I Lose Myself" by OneRepublic
I've been working like a mad thing on revisions for the first Southern Nights book, Teach Me. Sometimes, when a book has been a part of you for as long as this one has me, you lose the inspiration that originally had you revved about the project. Since I wrote the original manuscript in 2010...yeah, it's been a while, and making sure the story felt as fresh and alive as it did the first time I opened a Word file and began to type was very important to me.
And then came Christmas, and the gift that keeps on giving: music. Every book I write has a playlist; it's part of my writing process, and also a quick way for me to dive back into a book when I've had to put it on the backburner to meet deadlines on other projects (you can see a couple of my playlists for books here and here). Teach Me, being the first book I ever wrote, didn't have a playlist -- I was too new to know what my process was then -- so keeping it fresh has been a struggle. For Christmas, though, I received OneRepublic's new album, Native, and found the inspiration for Jess's story.
"If I Lose Myself" is a song about looking out a window. Sounds simple, right? (Don't most songs? :) ) But it's not. It's also about life and deciding who and what is important, about risking and refusing to give up. Have a listen:
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGx0rApSk6w?rel=0&w=560&h=315]
See what I mean? In case you didn't catch them, have a look at the lyrics:
I stared up at the sun,
Thought of all of the people, places and things I’ve loved.
I stared up just to see
With all of the faces, you were the one next to me.
You can feel the light start to tremble, Washing what you know out to sea. You can see your life out of the window tonight.
If I lose myself tonight, It’ll be by your side. I lose myself tonight... (oh) yeah, yeah, yeah.
If I lose myself tonight, It’ll be you and I. Lose myself tonight...
I woke up with the sun, Thought of all of the people, places and things I’ve loved. I woke up just to see With all of the faces, you were the one next to me.
You can feel the light start to tremble, Washing what you know out to sea. You can see your life out of the window tonight.
If I lose myself tonight, It’ll be by your side. I lose myself tonight... (oh) yeah, yeah, yeah.
If I lose myself tonight, It’ll be you and I. Lose myself tonight... Whoooooooooo
Take us down and we keep trying, Forty thousand feet, keep flying. Take us down and we keep trying, Forty thousand feet, keep flying. Take us down and we keep trying, Forty thousand feet, keep flying. Take us down and we keep trying, Forty thousand feet, keep flying.
(Lose myself) If I lose myself tonight...
There are a lot of other great songs on the album, but this one in particular spoke to me. (And yes, for those of you who are familiar with my books, this will be the theme song for Teach Me, just like Dirty Little Secret and Naughty Little Christmas have their theme songs. :) ) Do you have a song that inspires you, a "theme song," so to speak? What is it, and what does it make you think about?
Funny Friday: Back to Normal
So thankfully things are back to normal here at Chez Sheridan. And to start our weekend off on a lighter note than we began it, I give you Smart Bitches' 10 Things I Hate About Sex (Scenes). VERY funny, especially for us romance writers. :) Hop on over and take a look!
Justified
I don't blog to solve the world's ills. I'm not usually too serious, too heavy -- unlike my actual books. No, the point is just to throw some thoughts out there so my readers and fellow authors can get to know me just a little bit, and for me to feel a little connections with you, my audience, on a regular basis. I'm afraid, as one of my favorite heroes would say, today is not that day.
There are a lot of ways I could approach this, but I think a straightforward story is the simplest. This week, I attended a women-only martial arts class. During this class the female instructor's husband, a man who has multiple upper-level ranks (as does she), began to disrupt class and badger my instructor because she was telling us to execute a move in a way he disagreed with. As the confrontation escalated, the women in the room got quiet, struggled to continue as if nothing was wrong, and even began to visibly shake. My instructor huddled against the wall, silent, making herself as small as possible, probably in an effort to soothe her husband.
And then there was me.
I was shaking too. I was watching my instructor and seeing not her but my mother, huddled in on herself, silent, hoping my father would stop his ranting and raving. I kept engaging with my instructor, confirming and affirming what she wanted and trying to continue doing it. But when her husband refused to stop, I did what I'd done so many times as a child and young adult. I stepped in and (politely in this instance) told this man, who had instructed me in other classes and been what I considered a family friend, to stop. And watched with heart-pounding anxiety as he blew up, just like my dad always did.
Thankfully this man kept it verbal -- and kept his hands, for that reason alone -- but still, that was no excuse. He lost control. Why? Because he couldn't force a bunch of women to acknowledge that he was right. That is the only reason he verbally attacked his wife and me. He intimidated the other students. He finally stormed out after threatening me for standing up for his wife. And his excuse, when my husband questioned him, was that he was a particular degree of belt (in another system of study) and had so many years of experience, and I should've bowed to that and respected him as superior (my words, not his, though that's the gist). He told my husband, essentially, that his actions were justified by his authority.
Right.
Now, my whole point here isn't to blast this situation into the blogosphere. Notice I haven't use any names and don't intend to, even down to the art I study. That's not what I'm going for. What I'm trying to say is, this man felt justified in his actions because of his "authority" over a bunch of women, including his life's mate, a woman he should be cherishing and treating with love and honor. Make no mistake; this would never have happened in a room containing even one man besides himself. I know because I've seem him rein in irritation when my husband was present. He is capable of pulling himself back. On this day, however, since "no one" was there to act as a stop on him, he felt justified. He was acting on, essentially, righteous indignation at the flouting of his authority. He was taking "appropriate action."
Then and now, I call bullshit. So did my husband.
I have many issues with feminism that I won't get into today. But one thing that feminism has done right is free women from the requirement to submit to a man's authority "just because." Even in the late '80s and early '90s, as a woman in the South, any man in a position of authority over me -- pastor, government official, teacher, boss, husband -- expected to be obeyed whether they were right or wrong. And not only that, but the rest of society, including women, reinforced that belief. When told that my father was verbally and/or physically abusive, it was "He's just disciplining you" or "I don't see any bruises, so how could it be abuse?" When a boss pulled me into his office to castigate me over alleged lack of "the right attitude" at work (for which he couldn't even produce examples), my female supervisors sat there stone-faced and told me to take it. When a male friend told me I shouldn't be teaching kindergarten-aged boys because they were male and I was female and the Bible said I shouldn't have authority over men, barely anyone blinked. This was the reality of female life not too long ago; in some places it is still the reality today. Not for me.
You see, I am not required to give you respect. You may demand it based on the fact of your title, your age, your experience, or even that your body has a penis attached to it, but I do not have to give it. I do not live in Japan or China, and therefore the fact that you have more stripes on your karate belt does not mean I have to treat you like God. Respect is earned, not demanded. And if you demand it and try to lord it over me like this man did? I have one response for you: Go f**k yourself.
Let me be very clear: Verbal or physical abuse is NEVER justified. You want respect? Earn it. No one is required to give it to you. My children are a prime example of this for me, given the background I came from. My husband and I deal with them with integrity, love, and consistency, and that is how we cultivate their respect and obedience. When we get upset at our house and lose our sh*t (never physically and never demeaning each other; I'm just talking about normal family conflict here), do you know how we fix that with each other? Not by demanding submission from the rest of the family. We fix it with humility. We say we are sorry (yes, even my husband and I, the parents). We ask for forgiveness. We are open and honest and deal with each other honorably -- and earn trust by never crossing certain boundaries, no matter how hot our emotions run.
I teach my children to act honorably and defend the weak, and I do it by example. That hasn't always been easy for me. I began studying martial arts because I was afraid. For the first six months of classes I could not bring myself to block a punch coming right at my face. (Actually I still sometimes can't.) Why? Because I'd programmed myself from the time I was little to be still. Defending myself only made the punishment worse (of course, I never trained my tongue that well). It took a long time to break that programming, to become strong, and it's still not easy. I do it anyway. I train for it. BUT I also train to gain control, so that I never use what I know to force others to my will. To justify my own actions. Any authority I have, any respect I am given, must be earned. That's what is right. Always. Anything else is just plain wrong.
One last thing. If you are in a situation where you are being subjected to verbal or physical abuse, you need to get out. Don't justify staying. Protect yourself. Protect your children, if you have any. Do it now, today. Don't buy into the myth that this behavior is justified. It's never was and never will be.
~ Ella
*Top photo courtesy of 迷花不事君 (http://cc.nphoto.net/view/2008/10424.shtml) [CC-BY-SA-2.5-cn (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5/cn/deed.en)], via Wikimedia Commons
Friday Funny: Always Wear Underwear...
Okay, I could not resist posting this! I saw it on Facebook and spent ten minutes ROLLING, I was laughing so hard. So, for your enjoyment, I give you, "Always Wear Underwear":
Uncertainty...
...Or a Look at What's Coming in 2014
It's the beginning of a new year. Every January I make a list of goals for the next year, personal and professional. This past year has been filled with a lot of ups and downs, some pretty low lows (not winning the Golden Heart for Unbroken), and some high highs (visiting Ireland, publishing not one but two books this year!). With all of that swirling in my mind, I found one thing rising to the top as I face this new year:
Uncertainty.
Career planning is a big deal in the publishing world. It's also almost completely subjective, because you don't know when or if a book will be accepted. This coming year, I hope to finish book three in my Secrets To Hide series, Ian and Cassie's book. But before that, I have a novella with Brad in mind. I have a story swirling in my head for Hank (from Naughty), but it would take me in a little bit of a different direction than I was expecting. I'm also working on a series I plan to self-publish later this year, Southern Nights, a trilogy that's a bit more on the suspense side than Secrets.
It sounds like I have everything planned out, right? Like I know what I'm doing? Um, no. :) I'm taking a stab in the dark here. I'm hoping these are the right decisions to make, feel like these are the right decisions, but then, who knows? What if it's not? What if I should be focusing on the Archai? My heart yearns to see those books moving forward, but when? How? And how do I balance all of this with my family and work and a schedule that looks like my clock threw up on it?
Mark Danielewski said, "Maturity, one discovers, has everything to do with the acceptance of 'not knowing.'" Maybe that's the philosophical rewrite of "You do what you have to do." I don't know. All I do know is that I have to take one step forward, one at a time, until I get "somewhere." Most paths aren't straight. They twist and turn and fold back on themselves, on us. How do we know we're on the right path? How do we decide which fork to take? Or is the journey more important than where we end up?
I'm not sure I know. But when I look back on 2013 and see how life has changed, it gives me hope that 2014 will be even better, lows and highs included.
*Photos by Ian Meikle and Laenulfian.
Funny Friday: Calvin and the New Year
My son and I love Calvin and Hobbes. In fact, he received the Complete Calvin and Hobbes Collection (that weighs about 50 pounds!) for Christmas. So I thought I'd ring in the New Year with a little bit of my favorite much-too-mature little kid. :)
Zombies, Plagues, and Head Shots...Oh My!
Hello, my name is Ella and I'm a romance junkie. But that's not a romance picture over there on the left, is it? That's because recently I've been so focused on my own writing that reading romance has stressed me out more than it has helped me relax. One day, totally fed up with reading my old "keeper" romances for the billionth time, I pulled out my Kindle and did something I really don't like doing: I went shopping.
And brought home zombies.
Really, I'm not kidding. I am a huge fan of World War Z (the book AND the movie), and so I started looking at zombie books. And ran across Jonathan Maberry's Dead of Night. I was hooked immediately. Being a romance writer, I wasn't sure I would like the commitment-phobic heroine, but hey, there were zombies, so I read it anyway -- and actually came to like her. :)
At the end of Dead of Night, there was a short introduction to Maberry's Joe Ledger series. The series begins with "Countdown," a short-story introduction. I immediately loved Joe Ledger's "voice." He is a hero both strong and fallible, horrified at what he has to do but doing it without flinching. He is human and, at times it seems, a superhero. I could identify with his pursuit of martial arts to gain control of his life after a tragedy nearly destroyed him as a teen. I could follow his thinking and relate to the fact that he didn't always "get" the science (which thankfully is explained in fairly simple terms!). He is gritty and raw and broken and heartbreakingly deadly (and makes more head shots than I think is probably realistic, lol). This was no romance, but I loved it!
The series begins with zombies, but it doesn't stop there. Plagues, secret societies, conspiracies out the wazoo. It's a smorgasbord of evil with Joe in the middle. And Joe deals with it all the best way he can, which is not to say he brushes all the death and dismemberment off. The man has a therapist on speed dial, for goodness sake! And for good reason. :)
Sometimes, we need a change. We need to step out of our comfort zone and broaden our horizons and feed our creativity with something different. I'm glad I did. And I'm glad there are six books in this series, because I'm hooked. For Christmas vacation I went through the first three, so thankfully there are still some Joe Ledger adventures to fill my downtime in the coming weeks.
What do you read outside of the romance genre? Anything else "float your boat"? I know a lot of writers who read YA novels for fun. Or maybe, like me, you enjoy dark and gritty. Which is it? For now, I'm off to spend my last night on vacation with Joe... ;)
~ Ella
Kisses and Prizes...and Kisses!
Hop on over to Angel Payne's blog for this year's New Year's Kisses Party for an excerpt from Naughty Little Christmas (Damien and Harley's first kiss!) and a chance to win a ton of prizes. Damien's excerpt is live today, but the contest lasts through January 2nd. Enjoy!
There are also excerpts over on What's on the Bookshelf and Harlie's Books (look at that, another "Harley"!) today with a chance to win a $25 gift card and a copy of Dirty Little Secrets. Be sure and check those out as well!
~ Ella
It's Monday and...
There's supposed to be a new post here; I know. I, however, am laid up in bed with a vicious cold. How 'bout you? Enjoying your holiday? I hope so! But for now, I'm headed back to bed, hopefully with a book in hand, maybe staying awake long enough to read it. :) Or maybe not. Nighty night!
Release Day! Naughty Little Christmas Is Here -- And We're Having a Dance Par-tay!
Woot! It's a release day par-tay! :) Naughty Little Christmas is live at Loose Id! And just to prove it, here is the link: Naughty at LI!
*UPDATE: We're live on Amazon and All Romance eBooks! Woot!
Keep in mind, ALL ebook formats are available at LI. All you have to do is download the format appropriate for your ereader (or your computer, and they even tell you which format you need on their FAQs page), hook your ereader to your computer, and drag and drop the file to your ereader. Easy peasy! Even I can do it, and that's saying something. ;)
I will update as new formats become available, but I'm not sure how the holidays will affect load time, so even that pesky Nook file that won't be available for WEEKS can be had right away at LI's website. Run right over and get your copy of Damien and Harley for Christmas! You won't regret it!
And now that the practical "stuff" is taken care of...let's PAR-TAY!!! Here's the blurb for the most awesome Christmas story this year. Woot!
Harley Fisher's life changed forever when her twin sister gave birth to a baby one month before she died. This Christmas, Harley wants her adopted daughter to have the very best gift possible: her real father. Determined to discover if Damien Adams is worthy of being a part of the baby's life, Harley forces her way into a job as the manager-in-training for his new nightclub, Thrice. Damien is blunt, challenging, and sexy as all get-out. Desiring him is wrong, but when he touches her, it's oh so right.
Damien needs a manager for Thrice so he can return to overseeing all three of his clubs. Harley's too young, too hip, too damn tempting--and perfect for the job. Wanting her violates every rule he's laid out for his life, but even the strongest convictions can falter under the mistletoe.
Harley's keeping one hell of a secret. When Damien finds out, will Harley and his daughter be the best Christmas gift he's ever received, or will her secrets leave them with nothing more lasting than a naughty little Christmas this year?
I am so excited about this release! Let me tell you, Damien and Harley are hot enough together to singe the pages.We get a glimpse of old friends, and a glimpse of new ones that just might appear *hint, hint* in future books. :)
As you know if you've meandered over to the Extras Page for Dirty Little Secret, I have a theme song for every book. Today, in honor of Naughty's release and the Christmas holidays, I have TWO theme songs to share! The Christmas theme song for Naughty is mentioned in the very first page. That's right, it's George Michael's "Last Christmas." I know, I know, there are much more "sophisticated" versions nowadays, but for me, that song will always be perfect in George's voice. So here it is for your viewing enjoyment: "Last Christmas." (Dig that '80s hairstyle, dude! :) )
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E8gmARGvPlI&w=560&h=315]
But wait, that's not all! Naughty had two theme songs. This song, while also an oldie, encompassed everything these characters seemed to struggle through. I had it on repeat so much my kids begged me to stop playing it! So, without further ado, "All I Want" by Toad the Wet Sprocket:
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AVYYpNaSs2Y&w=420&h=315]
Want some more? How about Damien's song for Harley? Damien might start off skeptical that Harley has what it takes to be successful at managing Thrice, but by the end of the book, he realizes exactly how much they have in common -- and how perfect she is for him. Here's his message for his Wonder Girl: "Hey, Soul Sister" by Train.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kVpv8-5XWOI&w=560&h=315]
Harley is not afraid to butt heads with Damien, ever. And they do butt heads, often and hard. What song reminds me most of these two and their explosive reaction to each other? That one's easy! "One More Night" by Maroon 5.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwK7ggA3-bU&w=560&h=315]
Okay, last one, I promise! There are some smokin' hot sex scenes in this book, I'm tellin' ya. One occurs...ahem...outside, atop Damien's low-slung sports car, the one Harley describes as "the equivalent of fuck-me shoes, except for men: all I can give you exactly what you want, all night long." ;) So what song inspired that scene? Why, the same one that inspired the smokin' hot dance scenes, of course; "Hands All Over" by Maroon 5:
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HQEZ-RiW7X0&w=560&h=315]
All right, all right! I know that's enough. Can you tell I love music for my books? By next week I'll have the extras page for Naughty complete and you can see the entire playlist I listened to for the book. For now, though, how about an excerpt? Okay, here you go!
*
“You’re who?”
Harley came very close to laughing, though she wasn’t sure if it was actual amusement or just plain nerves. George Michael’s voice crooned “Last Christmas” in her head. “Tell me, baby, do you recognize me?” It’s definitely been a year. Guess the answer’s no.
She managed to hold back the laughter. Barely. Nerves wouldn’t get the better of her any more than Damien Adams would. She refused to allow it. Squaring her shoulders, she ignored the fact that she felt like an idiot with her hand dangling out in front of her, waiting to shake, while she faced down the man who had taken the Atlanta bar scene by storm less than a year ago. In person he was more like a blizzard, slamming into her senses, whiting out everything, including her courage. She’d always been good at faking it, though.
Ignoring his obvious impatience, she tried again. “Harley Fisher.”
The jerk stared back silently, full lips pressed tight together, a dark brow cocked up in question.
Okay, she knew she’d interrupted him, but seriously… She raised her own brow, getting a little impatient herself and trying hard to control it. “We spoke on the phone. About the general manager’s position,” she reminded him carefully.
Damien looked at her still-extended hand; then, with casual deliberation, he crossed his arms over his wide, muscular chest. The silk of his shirt stretched to a fit that resembled plastic wrap. Pulling her gaze from the deep V of the open neck, she dropped her hand and refused to be intimidated. She needed this job, and she intended to have it.
A spark of recognition lit those river-brown eyes, and Harley swallowed hard against the heavy, dry lump in her throat until he said, “Right. You’re the one I thought was a guy.”
She caught her grimace before it could get out. Yes, her name was unusual. She was often mistaken for a man until someone saw her in person, after which they simply thought she was an airhead. Or a slut. Her youth and rocker-chick persona often worked against her in the “real” world, but it never took people—men—long to learn differently. Hopefully Mr. Slick here would be quick on the uptake.
From the look of it, she had a better chance of Santa coming down her nonexistent chimney.
Raising her voice slightly to be heard over the remixed Christmas song blaring from the speakers, she said, “Yes, that Harley.” Try a smile, she told herself. “We—”
An impatient shake of his head cut off her words. “I believe I told you we were looking for someone more”—his gaze slid slowly down her body and back up—“more.”
More what, for God’s sake? More ready to jump into bed with him? A strong urge to put her leather jacket back on, as if she were still out in the Atlanta winter cold, bit into her. And pissed her off. Maybe she’d made a mistake in coming here. Damien obviously wasn’t the man she’d thought he would be, the man she needed.
No, give it a chance. This is too important to be making rash decisions. He can afford to; you can’t.
She dug her fingernails deep into her palms and wished her soon-to-be boss wasn’t quite such an ass.
Or quite so sexy. Looking at him heated her body in a way that had nothing to do with the anger she was feeling. The reaction shook her. Of course, Sonny’d always had good taste in men.
Which was definitely not why Harley was here.
Pain tingling in her palms from the digging of her nails, she forced herself to hold his stare. “Mr. Adams, simply because I’m young—and female—doesn’t mean I’m not the right person for the job. If you could just take a look over my résumé one more time—”
“I’ve seen what I needed to see, Ms. Fisher,” he said, voice dropping to little more than a growl. “I own three very successful clubs in three cities hundreds of miles apart. Traveling between them means leaving someone else in charge, someone with the experience and expertise to work independently, wisely, and efficiently. It means I must trust that person implicitly with my livelihood and that of my employees. Being Thrice’s general manager requires more than a familiarity with the bar.” That insulting look returned to his eyes, implying various ways she might’ve gained such knowledge that had nothing to do with her brains.
Oh, he so did not go there.
“So what you’re saying is, a woman in her midtwenties, a former musician, covered in tattoos but looking reasonably attractive is by definition a lush? Or are you insinuating that I’m a whore?”
Damien stared, eyes wide with shock, as if he couldn’t believe the words that had left her mouth. Then a boyish grin transformed him from put-out businessman to dangerously naughty hunk, and the urge to let go of her anger sank its teeth deep. No way. She was not forgetting he was rude, egotistical, asinine, a dickhead…
He laughed before she could let a real hissy fit loose. The sound echoed, rich and full, blending and countering the music filling the room. It deflated the ball of emotion choking her, drew her in, made her want to mix her laugh with his. She held her breath, unable to decide if his reaction was a good or bad thing.
“Forgive me,” Damien said. A wheeze interrupted the last word, and he had to pause to get his mirth under control. “You’re right. That was uncalled for.” Like an old-world aristocrat, he bowed from the waist. His shirt draped away from his chest, giving her a glimpse of smooth, tan skin all the way to his navel. “My apologies.”
Did he plan to kiss her hand next? The man had throwing people off down to an art. And why didn’t he look ridiculous with his shirt unbuttoned down to a lick-worthy six-pack? Reminding herself of her purpose, she said warily, “Accepted. I think.”
His grin said if that was the best he could get, he’d take it. “Ms. Fisher, I appreciate your candor—and that you are willing to forgive my rudeness. But—”
She barely refrained from rolling her eyes. There always has to be a but.
“—the fact remains that a certain level of experience is necessary for this position. I’m sorry.”
He turned to leave, and panic took over, pushing her to close the distance between them. Instinctively her hand shot out, and then she was gripping the heavy muscle of his biceps. Desperation firmed her hold when the shock of physical contact shot up her arm like a lightning bolt. He felt hot. Masculine. This close, he smelled of spice and alcohol, and she found herself breathing heavier just to take in more.
Don’t be a damn fool, Harley! Get your act together.
“Ms. Fisher—”
Before he could blast her for detaining him, Harley firmed both her courage and her voice. “Thrice has been open how long, Mr. Adams?” When he refused to answer, she did it for him. “Six months. I’ve been involved in the Atlanta music scene for fifteen years, the last seven of which I spent not only as a musician but as an event organizer and PR rep for my band and several others.”
That got him to face her fully. “You are either older than you look, or that’s a big stretch of the truth.”
She let a smirk sneak onto her lips. “And you are more unfamiliar with your new market than I would have given you credit for. My mother rotated out of every club in town, dragging me along with her from the time I was ten so she could sing her heart out. At fifteen I became involved with the indie music scene, and three years later formed and managed my own band, Aftershock.”
At the name, Damien’s brows shot up. So much for actually reading my résumé. Anyone with even a basic knowledge of indie music had heard of Aftershock; they were one of the foremost bands in the business, not just because they were damn good musicians, but because Harley had as good of instincts in management as she did with a bass guitar. If her private life hadn’t blown all to hell, she would still be with them.
“I see.”
She could tell he didn’t like admitting he was wrong, but at least the playboy charm was darkening into something more serious, more thoughtful, without the annoyed edge he’d shown at first. Time to close the deal. “You know the national scene, no doubt about it. You know what needs to be done to make things happen in LA or Colorado. You gained that know-how through study, experience, and local help.” She fought to keep the quaver of desperation out of her words. “I can give you that here, Mr. Adams, and with far more depth and speed and with lower cost than anyone else you could hire. I know Atlanta. I know the people here. I know the nightlife and the music and the contacts to make it all happen.” She pulled in a heavy lungful of air to ease her aching chest. “I am the person for this job.”
When the last word left her lips, she knew every ounce of her passion and determination went with it. Her lungs deflated like a balloon with a slow leak, refusing to refill as she waited for his verdict. Thinking of everything that was at stake, she willed him to listen, to see all that she could offer.
“You’re not gonna give an inch, are you?” he finally asked.
Harley narrowed her eyes. “No, and you wouldn’t want me to. It’s exactly what you need.”
Damien’s gaze dropped to the hand still clutching his arm. Harley slowly released him, the burn of embarrassment firing her cheeks. When his mouth, that sinfully full mouth, opened to speak, she braced herself for rejection.
“Okay.”
Wh-what? The single word hit like a brick wall she’d never seen coming. “Okay?” she parroted.
“Okay, let’s talk.” Glancing down, he surveyed the thick black watch encircling his wrist. “I have a couple of things to settle first, but if you’re willing to hang around, I’ll take the time to speak with you.”
Clenching the muscles in her thighs to keep herself from slumping to the floor in relief, she forced calm into her voice. “Yes. Absolutely.”
Damien stared down at her for a long moment, something dark and unreadable in his eyes. Knowing she had to get used to him watching her, judging her, she let him look. Whether he found what he was looking for or not, she didn’t know. He turned to a passing employee, asked the man to escort her to a table in the bar, and nodded before making his way down a nearby hall.
She couldn’t resist a final glance in his direction as she was led across the room. Step one down. They were on their way.
* * * *
He needed to stop looking at her. Every few minutes his gaze strayed toward the corner table in the bar where Harley Fisher sat, sipping a drink with red and silver sprinkles rimming the glass, chatting with every employee who passed. The Christmas lights illuminating the area glinted in her eyes, and he couldn’t keep his fucking gaze off her. Which was bad, because he didn’t do employees—ever. And he wanted to do her, no doubt about it.
Pretending to listen to Brad give him a rundown of the night’s tally, he took in the picture she made. She fit, which was what had made him wary at first. Too young, too hip. From the top of her candy-red-and-cream-striped hair to the toes of her knee-high stiletto boots, she looked like one of his customers—the ones he occasionally slept with—not a manager. She had slipped her tight leather jacket onto the chair back, revealing a silky silver tank that showcased a full-sleeve tattoo along one slender, toned arm. Those muscles came from holding a guitar, he now knew. A musician. Wasn’t that just further reason to be panting after the woman? It was a wonder he hadn’t been forced to roll his tongue back into his mouth like the cartoon characters he remembered from childhood.
“Boss?”
Brad’s voice pulled him back to business, and Damien turned, removing Harley from his line of sight. Tonight’s private Christmas party for Keane Industry’s Atlanta office had been well attended, the bar busy all night. Brad needed his attention, as did a million additional things, both here and at his other two clubs. He needed a general manager for Thrice. Once, his club in LA, and Twice, the Denver nightclub, were both hugely successful, but he wasn’t the kind of owner who could open a place and then leave it in someone else’s hands entirely. He stayed in constant contact with both managers, flying out frequently to each location, this month in particular. The series of charity events planned for the holidays would benefit hundreds of families in the three cities where he ran clubs, but they added more strain to his already overfull schedule.
He and Brad were finishing up the details for tomorrow’s order when Ryan strolled over to lean against the bar.
“Sounds good, Brad,” Damien told the bartender. “Finalize those numbers and have Malik get that order in ASAP tomorrow morning.”
Brad immediately pulled out his phone to shoot the day supervisor a reminder, which was one reason the man had become such a trusted employee so quick. He got things done and done fast. Damien needed all the help he could get. Fifty e-mails waited on his phone for his attention, and that didn’t include the things Ryan, as his assistant, handled on his own, or the things Ryan couldn’t handle when he and Brad took over Thrice while Damien was away. Both men worked hard, but neither had the know-how or experience to run the club without constant input from Damien, not yet. The need for a seasoned day-to-day manager here at Thrice neared desperation level at this point. No one he’d interviewed had felt right for such an important position, though. No one had even come close, not until Harley.
“Remind him about contacting that wholesaler while you’re at it,” Ryan put in. “See what the guy has to offer us.”
Brad nodded, fingers flying, then hit a final button and looked up. “Anything else?”
“No, you’re good,” Damien told him, meaning it.
“Does that mean I get an extra-special Christmas bonus this year?” the bartender asked with a grin.
“I don’t know. Ryan?”
Brad groaned. “You did not put Wonder Boy in charge of our bonuses, did you?”
“I’ll remember that,” Ryan warned.
Brad laughed as he headed toward the other end of the bar, which spanned the length of the club area, to finish supervising the night’s cleanup.
Ryan leaned a little closer, brows up almost to his hairline, and smiled slyly. “So, who’s the girl?”
In the four years Ryan had worked for him, Damien had come to love his young assistant like a little brother, so he didn’t resist the urge to smack the little pissant upside the back of his head.
“Hey, man, don’t mess with the hair!” Ryan smoothed the ruffled strands at his nape, but his smile widened despite the whine in his voice.
“Keep your tongue on a leash,” Damien warned, his words lacking heat. Without his consent, his gaze traveled toward Harley, watching as one of the waiters approached her table to offer a refill. Harley shook her head; then something the man said made her laugh. A twinge of pain shot through his jaw as Damien ground his teeth together. “That,” he told Ryan, “is Harley Fisher.”
Ryan shot to attention at his side. “The Harley Fisher? From Aftershock? Hot damn!” His tongue practically hung out as he stared across the room, and Damien started to wonder if he was going to have to wipe up drool. “I didn’t recognize her offstage. Is this my Christmas gift? Say yes. Please?” The last word definitely approached a whine.
Ryan was much closer to the indie scene than Damien, obviously, but it wasn’t as if Damien had no clue who the woman was. Aftershock was one of those bands that even adamant anti-indie listeners knew and enjoyed. He kept up with their music, if not all the band members’ names. What he did know was the venues they played—good ones, events that took finesse to get, especially for a band without the solid backing of a major record company. If Harley acted as their manager, she knew what the hell she was doing. So why leave that behind to work for him?
Ryan’s gushing made the pain in Damien’s jaw worse. “Down, boy. She’s applied for the general manager’s position.”
“No kidding?” A thoughtful look crossed Ryan’s boyish face. “I’d heard she was on hiatus. Maybe it was more serious than the rumor mill let on.”
Something to think about. She certainly seemed the best choice overall, given her background. And if he was honest, the main thing holding him back at this point was the attraction he felt for her. He liked her spunk. He liked that she didn’t take his shit without calling him on it. Damn it, he liked her, wanted her, and therein lay the problem. She was trouble waiting to happen. With a capital T.
A soft, feminine hand on his arm interrupted his thoughts. “Damien? Is everything all right?”
Mia. Another problem squeezing herself onto his overflowing plate. When he said he didn’t do employees, he meant it, but Mia refused to get the picture.
He straightened. “Fine, Mia,” he said, shifting as subtly as possible away from the petite waitress. Petite but strong, barracuda strong. She, like Harley, was young, maybe twenty-three. She’d been waitressing at Thrice for three months, and if things didn’t change soon, he would be forced to let her go. Being ambushed every time he came in the door of his own club was unacceptable—and unavoidable. She’d made it so.
“Would you like me to gather the staff for the meeting?” she asked, swaying her shoulders side to side in an incongruously little-girl move that emphasized her generous breasts in the low-cut shirt she wore. Damien knew better than to look down. They were nice breasts—he’d noticed; he was a breast man, after all—but a single glance and he’d end up with a permanent attachment to his hip that would take a crowbar to remove.
Keeping his eyes firmly locked with her exotic, almond-shaped ones, he said, “Valentine will let you know when we’re ready.” He glanced over to see his waitstaff supervisor at the far end of the room, pointing two waiters in the direction of a section that had not been taken care of yet. He nodded in Valentine’s direction. “Don’t you have cleanup to get through?”
Mia’s full lips pouted prettily. “I just wanted to help, Damien. I’m sorry.”
Instead of rolling his eyes, he nudged his chin toward the opposite end of the room. “Finish up, please.”
“That is a mess waiting to happen,” Ryan murmured, barely waiting until Mia stepped out of earshot.
“I agree.” He jammed both fists against the bar, arms rigid, and rolled his shoulders to release the tension that had settled there. “One you can take care of while I’m away.”
“Thanks,” Ryan mocked. “I get to cover your ass while you gallivant all over the country, and handle the horny waitress.”
Damien smirked at the disdain dripping from Ryan’s last word. “It’s a dirty job, but at least I don’t have to do it.” Especially not at Christmas. Damien hated letting anyone go, but the young woman had been warned strongly and repeatedly. Knowing what had to be done didn’t mean it depressed him less.
Damien motioned for Brad and Valentine to gather their crews for the “family meeting,” the staff meeting held nightly to go over issues from the shift or things that needed to be addressed for upcoming ones. By the time they finished, Harley had been waiting more than an hour for his attention, but she didn’t act impatient. She’d watched him handle the staff, those green eyes alight with interest. Now those same eyes narrowed on him as he walked toward her table, leaving Brad and Ryan to lock up.
Damien felt the pull of that look, right down to his groin. And that hair. Jesus. Her hair reminded him of those Life Savers strawberries-and-cream lollipops he used to love as a kid, a swirled mix of sharp tang and sweet, creamy goodness. It made him wonder where else on Harley he could taste creamy goodness. When his dick filled at the thought, he groaned. He needed her as a manager, not a good lay. He could get sex anytime; someone to fill the empty slot in his business was far harder to come by.
Harley was it, but neither he nor his cock were jumping for joy over the decision.
*
All right, guys, that's it for today! Enjoy the party? Then be sure and hop over to Loose Id and pick up your copy of Naughty Little Christmas today. Merry Christmas!