Swap — If You Can't Handle the Heat — Sin Bin
Showing posts with label first chapter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label first chapter. Show all posts

Friday, 24 April 2020

#FlashbackFriday Enjoy the First Chapter of - Hard and Fast - #FreeRead #EroticRomance #YoungermanOlderWoman

Hi Everyone. I hope this post finds you safe and well. 

I have another free read for you, in my meager attempt to provide some distraction during this difficult time. Hard and Fast is available to download as a freebie. I'm posting the first chapter below and just a tease from the second to whet your appetite. I hope you enjoy it.


I have several books on special and free to download, check out the deets HERE!

Take extra good care, my friends. 💜








Younger Man / Older Woman, Erotic Romance

About the Book:

She’s looking for a forever kind of thing, not just some meaningless fling.

Josslynn Rossdale has dedicated the last ten years of her life making her sister’s dreams come true, and happily so. But now that Pasha is on the cusp of taking the fashion world by storm, Joss realises she needs some time apart from Pash to find her own direction. Temporarily breaking away from the fast-paced modelling industry, Joss returns to their hometown and decides that opening her own agency is the way to go.

An overly hot and humid summer season has kept repairman Billy Maas more than busy. But when he attends a routine service call, he doesn’t expect the most beautiful woman in the universe to answer the door, let alone allow him to service more than just her air-con unit.

But Joss isn’t looking for a simple fling. After seeing how happy her sister, Pasha, is with her new husband, Lot, she wants some of that. Billy is fun and exciting, but their lives and interests are very different. So when Joss begins to have real feelings for the adorable Billy, she sees no alternative but to distance herself from the younger party boy—leaving the bewildered and lovelorn repairman with a crisis he can’t fix.


Hard and Fast

Chapter One

Josslynn Rossdale stood in line at the bank. Another scorching day with the humidity so high that one perspired just standing still. Most of the other customers appeared to be melting, each with that fine layer of sheen and flushed complexion. In a lightweight cotton blouse, beige short shorts and sandals, Joss attempted to beat the heat.

“Next,” the first vacant teller drawled.


Joss stepped forward.


“Hey, Joss, how are you?” She’d been in the savings and loan so often lately that the employees knew her by name.  


“Good, Tracey, and you?” 


“It’s so much better in here now that they’ve got the air conditioning back up and running.” 


Joss noted the serviceman in the standard blue work shirt, placing his tools back into his box. “Mmm, should suggest him for my building. AC’s on the fritz at my apartment too. I put in a call to the building manager but I’m still waiting.” 


The repairman was tall, with short dark hair and nice broad shoulders. Snug, navy work pants showcased his well-toned glutes. As if he knew that he was being scrutinized he turned and zeroed right in on Joss. He had the most piercing blue eyes. Too cute, and too young. He couldn’t be more than twenty-five, she guessed. Somewhat used to a certain amount of healthy male attention herself, she smiled, totally aware that he was checking her out too. He grinned in return and the action brought out a charming dimple in his left cheek. He sported a fine layer of stubble as if he hadn’t had time to shave that morning. Joss liked it. It gave him a rugged appearance. Yes, he was a very attractive guy. 


“What can I help you with, Joss?” Tracey snagged Joss’ attention back. “He’s really freakin’ hawt, right?” Tracey said under her breath, just as the young workman set down his toolbox on the counter-top next to her work-space. 


“Actually, I was hoping to catch Tom,” Joss answered. “I’m not sure if he’s in, but he said he’d leave some paperwork for me at the customer service wicket. But your man Tech Co here is using it to store his tools at the moment.” Joss read the company name off the guy’s shirt. 


“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just need a signature and then I can get out of the way.” He said this to Tracey but kept his gaze trained on Joss, grinning, the corner of his mouth curling adorably.  


“I’ll get the manager. I’m not taking responsibility for anything,” Tracey scoffed, leaving her post. 


“Hi,” Tall, Dark and Handsome said simply. He had a pleasant, deep baritone voice. 


“Hi,” she responded. 


“It’s another hot one, huh?” 


“Sweltering,” Joss agreed. 


He peered directly into her eyes. She liked it but it was also a little disarming. 


“I hear it’s supposed to be this way all weekend,” he added.


“That’s what I hear.”


His lips were nicely shaped, the bottom one nice and full. 


“I guess I shouldn’t complain. It keeps me busy.” 


“I imagine.”  


On even closer examination, under that dark and grainy stubble was a slight cleft. Joss was a sucker for a man with a dent in his chin.  


“Here we go. The manager is on the way,” Tracey said to the repairman. “And, Joss, here’s the portfolio Tom put together for you to go over.”


“Thanks, Tracey. I’ll probably see you again in the next week then.” 


“Yep, see ya then. Next!” 


Joss glanced back at TD&H. “Have a good day then,” she said lamely.


“Yeah, you too.” He nodded as the manager joined him. 


Joss began to walk out when one of the other financial managers stopped her to make sure she’d been waited on. She assured him that she had, thanked him kindly then continued to the exit, arriving as the rugged repairman did. It just so happened his hands were full— toolbox in one and a ladder in the other. Joss held the first door open for him.


“Well, thank you,” he said with a wide smile. He had excellent teeth too. 


Joss rushed ahead and opened the second door.


“Thanks again.” He squinted up at the sky. “Whoa, it is hot out here. Being in there, in the cool, makes you forget for a while.” 


“I know. It’s nasty, isn’t it?” Joss let the door swing closed and she turned in the direction of her car. 


“Take care,” he said then continued on his way. 

For shits, Joss peeked over her shoulder, and to her delight, he was doing the same thing. How sad had her life become that she was now thrilled by such a little thing?

* * * *

Fuck, that woman is gorgeous, Billy thought as he tossed his gear into the service van. He found himself straining to see over the seats to catch a glimpse of what she was driving. He’d keep an eye out for her in future. Everyone else in town reminded him of sweat soaked marathon runners. But not her, she looked like the heat didn’t even affect her—fresh faced and radiant. 


The strawberry blonde, shoulder-length hair was what had caught his eye first. Expecting blue eyes, he’d been pleasantly surprised when she’d returned his level stare and he’d discovered they were dark—smoky and warm. The minute she’d held his gaze, his cock had flexed. He was pretty sure she’d been checking him out too. But then again, the bank tellers had been doing it all morning. Billy knew he was a pretty good-looking guy. He did all right with the ladies. But this one was a little older than the chicks he was usually interested in. Maybe thirty, he approximated. That coupled with the fact that she was drop dead stunning, a guy might find striking up a conversation with her intimidating. But he thought he’d held his own. 

After slamming the rear doors, he hopped into his service truck, as a bronze-colored Lexus drove slowly past. With a big wave, Billy added an even larger grin to the lovely woman driving by. She nodded in acknowledgment and gave a vague wave in return. No doubt she was thinking he was an overeager idiot. But damn, what he’d give to run into her again. Or spend a few minutes of real conversation so that she’d know he wasn’t a complete loser. He could practically imagine his buddies’ faces if he showed up at some party or backyard barbecue with her on his arm. His friends would go nuts. 

Billy tried to get his mind focused on work. Calling into dispatch, he then jotted down the address of the next work-order as it was read off to him. He then went back to the grind, but all afternoon his mind kept drifting back to the bank. This time his thoughts fixated on those gorgeous legs that went on forever—they’d wrap nicely around his waist.  

Quitting time and an ice cold beer couldn’t come soon enough.

* * * *

Joss and three of her girlfriends sat around their regular table in one of her favorite restaurants. They’d been meeting for lunch every Friday since Joss had moved home. It had been a weekly thing for them back in the day. The only difference was Joss’ twin sister Pasha was missing from their little custom. With their orders placed and drinks served, they started to catch up. 


“So, how are things going with the financing, Joss? Any word from my brother yet?” Lara asked.

“I picked up another proposal this afternoon, but I haven’t had a chance to read it through yet.” Actually she’d tossed it aside in disgust when she’d noticed that Tom had labeled the document with Pasha’s name. These documents would have to be reworked, because this guy couldn’t seem to get his shit together or put his obsession with Pash aside long enough to do his job. Another delay just put Joss’ plans that much further behind.  

“Did he leave his card inside with all of his numbers on it?” Bryn teased.  

“Proposal, you say? If Tom made it up you can bet it has nothing to do with finances. Has he found his balls and asked you out yet?” Leave it to Della to get to the heart of the matter. 

“Oh, don’t be so hard on Tom,” Lara defended her sibling. “He’s had a crush on Joss and Pash since high school. Just them moving away to launch Pasha’s modeling career broke his heart.” 

“Tom’s interest was in Pasha. Not me. And now that she’s off the market, he is free to move on to someone else. Preferably a woman who doesn’t look anything like Pash. That’s what he needs, a fresh start.” 

“How was Hawaii, Joss?” Bryn asked.
   
“Beautiful,” she sighed, thinking of her sister and her new husband. “It was perfect. The ceremony, the setting, the couple. Lot and Pasha are so in love with each other it’s ridiculous.” 

“You sound a little jealous there, Joss,” Della commented, watching her. 

“Not so much jealous, but envious. Seeing them together kind of made me want it too. Not Lot, he’s a bit on the arrogant side for my taste, but that type of relationship. I want someone to be that crazy over me.” 

“Well, Tom’s all over that,” Della said, only loud enough for Joss to hear. “At least the crazy part.” Della lifted her glass to Joss then took a long sip.  

“Arrogant? Well, then Lot must be the perfect match for Pasha!” Lara sniped under her breath, but the nasty crack was loud enough for the entire table to hear.  

Joss chose to ignore it. 

“I think for Pash, though, it helps having him around to calm the withdrawals of us being apart. She’s not as sad that we’re not living together anymore. But I’m still kind of lost without her. I miss her so much sometimes it hurts. But seeing her so happy makes me feel less guilty about leaving.” 

“Well, you sacrificed a good decade to get her where she is, I don’t think it’s selfish of you to want a life of your own, separate,” Della commiserated.  

“It wasn’t really sacrifice—I enjoyed it. I was good at it. And it kept us together for a lot longer than either one of us had thought we’d be. But I need more.” 

“I think we should set both Tom and Joss up with somebody new, but definitely not each other,” Bryn, always the mediator, suggested smoothly. “They don’t suit at all. Don’t you, Lara? I mean, Joss isn’t Pash. They are not the same person. Not interchangeable.”  

“I know that,” Lara snapped. 

Joss, Della and Bryn all turned to stare at her.  

Joss picked up a glass of white wine and surveyed the restaurant, bored of the conversation already and sick to death of the Tom subject. She didn’t want to have to get rude about it either. Joss hoped he never found his jewels. That way, she wouldn’t be forced to turn him down. But she did have the old reliable excuse—I wouldn’t feel right about it while we’re working together—at the ready if she ever needed a quick way out. But she was convinced he was dragging his feet where business was concerned, to keep Joss coming around, because he wanted to see Pash. Besides, she didn’t want to hurt Lara’s feelings. They’d almost quit being friends back in secondary school because Pasha had finally let Tom have it. Though Pash and Lara still didn’t speak.  

A bunch of guys had started to collect at the bar, all of them wearing the same colored shirt as the incomparable Tech-Co, from the bank. For the ‘nth time Joss wished she’d caught his name. He was someone she could see herself spending time with, even if he was a little younger.

Just then, one of the wait-staff placed another glass of wine in front Joss.  

“I didn’t order—” she began. 

“The gentleman at the bar sends his regards.” 

Joss grinned and glanced around the table at all her girlfriends, then as one, they turned to see who’d sent the drink. Joss started at one end of the bar and scanned the blue work shirts once again, but this time the repairman that she’d been hoping to see was there. He had his mug of beer raised in salute accompanied by a devastating grin on his ruggedly handsome face.  

“Oh my God!” Joss breathed, grinning back like an idiot. Excitement built in her stomach, the likes of which she hadn’t known in a very long while.

“Who the fuck is that hot piece of man and where have you been hiding him, Josslynn?” Della asked.  

“I don’t know his name, I ran into him at the bank. We had one of those conversations that was completely benign but it was like we connected and said a whole lot more with our eyes.” 

“By the way that the two of you are devouring each other right now, I’d say you just had your second conversation.” Bryn giggled. 

“How old would you say he is?”  

“Hmm, I’d put him about twenty-five,” Della replied. 

“That’s what I thought too.” Joss was disappointed. He was a bit young for her. She and Pasha had recently celebrated her thirty-second birthday. 

“Go over there!” Della suggested, grinning from ear to ear. 

“No,” Joss said. But she really did want to. “All his work buddies are there.”
 
“Yes! Go. You’ll have every one of those men wishing they were him. He’ll be a freakin’ God to them. Go.” 

Joss took another sip of the wine that she’d been working on then stood, picking up the full glass that had just been delivered. 

While trying to tune out the snickering and rude comments that her girlfriends were making, Joss toned down a runway walk and sexily made her way over to the handsome man at the bar. He watched her every step. Ignoring all the other men seated on either side, Joss concentrated only on him.

“Well, hey there, Tech-Co,” Joss said, taking hold of his lapel, near the company logo. She gave it a little jiggle then let go.  

His pals chuckled at her nickname for him. He’d undone the top four or so buttons, baring an expanse of his bronzed chest. The damn shirt had been concealing some major muscle mass under it. Joss also detected a tattoo but couldn’t make out what it was.  

“We meet again.” 

“Of all the bars…” He grinned. 

“You had to walk into mine,” she finished. 

“No, baby, you’re in mine.” 

“Oh no, Tech-Co, my girlfriends and I have been haunting this particular club for at least a decade.” There, that would give him a little heads up to her age.  

“I’ve never seen you here before, and I guarantee I would have remembered you.” 

She’d have remembered him too. “I just moved back to town recently and we’ve resumed our weekly meetings.” 

“Ahh. Lucky me.” 

“And why would that be?” 

“All you lovely ladies have classed up the joint.” 

“Well, I’d better get back. Thanks for the drink.” 

“Any time.” 

Joss started to walk back when he called, “Hey, beautiful, what’s your name?” 

“We’ll save that for next time, Tech-Co.”

Joss made sure to give them the best display of a sexy walkway rear view that she could muster. It must have worked—she got some cat calls and whistles. Pash, her supermodel sister, would be proud.  


Bryn and Della were all smiles when Joss sat back down, but Lara didn’t seem too pleased.  

“Stop teasing every man you meet, Joss. And he’s way too young for you.” 

“Wow, you’re on a roll today, aren’t you!” Joss countered angrily, finally sick of her viciousness. 

“I’m no longer hungry. I’m gonna go.” 

“Lara…” Joss said. 

“Oh, Lara, you’re such a downer,” Della said. 

“Lara, it’s all in fun,” Bryn added. 

“It’s not amusing for the people that she and her sister string along. Add that poor kid to the list, right behind my brother.” 

“Tell us how you really feel,” Della called after her. 

The remaining three ladies watched their friend walk out. 

“I have never once encouraged Tom,” Joss said.  

“We know.” Della sighed, picking up her drink. “I don’t think Tom needs any.” 

“And now that he’s in charge of my loan application…”  

“Have you considered going somewhere else?” 

“That’s what Pasha suggested too. But our parents have always done business there, I automatically went there first, you know. And the wheels are already turning. If I go somewhere else, I have to start from the beginning again. And that puts me that much further behind again. Sooner or later, I am going to need to make some money.” 

“So, that’s where you met that guy over there?” Bryn asked, smiling, thankfully changing the subject. 

Joss observed the man in question. Not surprisingly, he was watching her too. 

“Why don’t you have a fling with him?” Della’s eyes lit as she made the suggestion. 

“A fling? What are you trying to push me into, you old married lady?” 

“Something I can live vicariously through, of course.” 

Joss rolled her eyes and her gaze again strayed to the bar. 

“You are really digging him, aren’t you?” Della teased. 


There was definitely something about him.


Chapter Two 

Joss woke up early the next morning, too sticky and hot to remain in bed and called the superintendent about the air conditioning. She’d been trying to get it to work since she’d returned and now that she needed it, it wouldn’t even turn on.  


This apartment had been hers and Pasha’s for years. They’d kept it even while they’d been stationed in LA, so they’d have a place to stay when they were in town—or a place to come back to if things hadn’t worked out. 

On the way to the kitchen, Joss paused to open Pasha’s bedroom door. It was bright and beautiful just like Pash. Joss took a deep breath. It even smelled like Pash. 

After taking a cool shower, she put on a thin tank top and a pair of sleep shorts as she puttered around, unpacking from the trip to Hawaii and her sister’s wedding that she’d been neglecting. 

There was a knock at the door. She expected it to be the super. Her building was a secured one, so folks couldn’t come and go without being buzzed in. But when she opened the door, it was most certainly not the manager. Instead she met the amazing blue eyes of the man that had occupied her thoughts all night long. 

His handsomely rugged features showed surprise as well. The corner of his mouth turned up boyishly. His gaze skimmed over her scant clothing, heating her up again. In a smooth, smug gesture he leaned against the doorjamb.  

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Joss commented, amused.  

“Did you call for a service, ma’am…?” 

Joss snorted at his choice of words and he turned five shades of red then began to back track and trip all over his tongue to correct himself.  

“I meant a service man, ma’am. Er…aw, fer fuck! Oh, shit, again, I’m sorry.” 

Finally he just hung his head. Joss waited until he peered up at her through his lashes. He was too cute. 

“Did my friends put you up to this? You’re not like a male stripper or something on the side, are you?”

“No. I’m here to repair your AC unit. Your super let me up. I had no idea who lived here.” 

Joss shook her head at the impossibility of it all while she stepped back to let him in. “This way,” she said, very aware of him at her back. Visions of him doing the most delicious things to her body invaded her mind...

Can you guess what happens next? 



Download your copy free at:
Coming to Amazon Soon!





Thursday, 10 January 2019

Sesto and Syn are back in the re-release of - If You Can't Handle the Heat #erotic #contemporary #romance



If You Can’t Handle the Heat
by
H K Carlton

Release Date: December 28, 2018


Welcome to the relaunch of If You Can't Handle the Heat, and my first foray into self-publishing. I'm so excited to once again share this story with my readers. With some added content, it has been re-edited and re-formatted for re-release, along with a cover re-vamp designed by the incredible Emmy from Studioenp



An unlikely couple is brought together as celebrity judges on a new reality-based cooking show.

Sesto Théodore, is an arrogant yet well respected American-Italian chef, with several five-star restaurants.

Once bitten, twice shy, Syn Fully, is a jaded author of erotica, rocketing her way up all the best sellers lists.

From the moment Syn and Sesto meet, their personalities clash, yet behind the scenes sparks fly. Getting together would be a recipe for disaster, but hot sex with no-strings couldn’t hurt. At least not until real feelings get involved.

But just when Syn considers opening her damaged heart to the cocky chef, video of rather personal content is leaked online. Sesto immediately jumps to conclusions and accuses Syn of the privacy breach.

Can the arrogant chef forgive and forget, or will his pride leave him out in the cold?

Somebody’s about to get burned…

Possible Triggers: Please note one scene contains borderline bdsm and dubious consent/forcible confinement. Also in this story intimate video is obtained without the knowledge or consent of the participants involved, and later distributed online

Author’s Note: This erotic story has been previously published with the title, If You Can’t Stand the Heat. Though there is a little bit of added content, the story remains relatively the same. It has been re-edited and re-formatted for re-release, and has a sizzling new cover thanks to Studioenp


* * * Purchase your copy HERE * * *


Chapter One

Sesto Théodore walked confidently through the atrium lobby of the swanky New York hotel, one of three celebrity judges, about to shoot a pilot episode for the newest reality show competition.

Protégés, was a lame imitation of the cooking channel’s popular Hacked, as far as Sesto was concerned. But if the network was willing to pay him an exorbitant amount of money to insult young chefs and kill their dreams, who was he to argue?

Sesto had paid his dues and slugged his way through culinary school the hard way, without having to pimp out his talents for twenty-five grand on some pathetic TV show. Instead, he’d methodically achieved everything he’d set out to do in his career, including owning his own restaurants, all of which boasted five-star ratings. He was handsome, rich—a rock-star in the culinary world. Women quite literally got on their knees for a man who could cook. “And they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach!” Sesto chuckled to himself as he pulled open the door to the convention center.

Flicking an imaginary piece of lint off the shoulder of his designer suit coat, Sesto glanced at the judge’s table where the other two celebs were supposed to be seated by now. He’d been fashionably late on purpose, intending to make them wait on him. But, foiled again, besides the camera crew, the contestants, and the harassed-looking producer, Sesto was the only judge present.

* * * *

Surreptitiously, Syn Fully, slipped unnoticed onto the Protégés set. With the help of some large artificial potted ferns as cover, she observed the scene before her. As a writer, she was an avid people watcher. But for today she was intent on getting the lay of the land, and a good look at the people she would be working with.

This whole proposal—or conspiracy, Syn hadn’t decided which yet—had been an underhanded collaboration between her assistant and her agent. Starring in a reality show wasn’t something Syn would have elected to do on her own. But between her two colleagues, they’d convinced her the exposure would be good for her career, and garner a bit of free publicity, not to mention, her fans would eat it up, so to speak.

The entire kitchen area impressed her. It appeared quite professional. One worry quashed. This was only a pilot episode, and she knew certain aspects would get streamlined if the network decided to pick up the show. But she didn’t want to be involved in a second rate production. Preferring to hide behind her pen, up until now, Syn hadn’t done any television. Other than a few guest spots on talk-radio where she’d shared some steamy excerpts from her latest release, and a couple of photo shoots for jacket covers, she maintained a low profile. Syn even kept conventions, book signings, and special appearances to a bare minimum.

A small commotion to her left brought Syn out of her musings, and she finally caught sight of the man that the Protégés show had been adapted for.

Sesto Théodore, strode across the conference room, exuding self-confidence. Syn had done a little research on the man before she’d agreed to work with him. She and her personal assistant, Sam, had watched some of the chef’s interviews. And Syn had reached out to several mutual friends who had worked with him in the past. By all accounts and reputation, he was an arrogant asshole and difficult to work with. But in addition, he was an expert in his field, renowned and respected as a chef and restaurateur. A perfectionist, he demanded the same from everyone around him. Syn could respect that.

One thing she hadn’t bargained for though, was how deliciously handsome he was in person. He not only conveyed self-assurance, but with his size he also radiated power, and possessed an animal magnetism that was undeniable. With a critical eye, Syn gave him a full body-scan, the kind of subjective once-over she often used when selecting a suitable cover model for one of her book jackets. Unquestionably, Sesto Théodore could fill out a suit quite like no other.

Syn caught herself biting on the tip of her index finger. Sam, often teased her about the bad habit. Apparently, it was something she did while she was writing, mainly when she was plotting out a particularly steamy sex scene. It would seem Chef Théodore’s good looks had just become author fodder for another time. Suddenly, sitting next to him for the next week or so didn’t seem like such a chore.

Syn watched on with interest as Sesto approached the unsuspecting crew.

“Where is Ms. Fully?” The producer ranted.

“Her PA assures me she’s on the way, Mr. Parks,” said one of the production assistants.

“And the Russian hockey player?” Parks demanded.

“He just entered the lobby.”

“Good. And the over-inflated chef? What’s his name? Theodore? Where’s he?”

Syn chewed her lip, stifling a good chuckle, when the producer butchered the gourmet chef’s surname.

“Um, uhhh,” one of the production assistants stuttered, as he gestured over the producer’s shoulder, to the over-inflated chef in question.

Sesto stared down at his well-groomed fingernails and drawled, “It’s pronounced Tee-a-door. And if you ever refer to me in such a manner again, I will walk. And you’d best remember I’m the only credible judge you’ve got here. What do a hockey player and a trashy romance novelist know about food?”

That was her cue. Syn stepped out from behind the greenery.

“We both eat, Mr. Théodore,” she said, in what she hoped was a haughty tone.

* * * *

Sesto scrutinized the owner of the sultry voice. An exotic brunette stared up at him, challengingly. She wore a red come-fuck-me dress that dipped almost to her navel. Her lovely breasts spilled appealingly out the sides of the form-fitting halter. Sesto clenched his hands into fists, fighting the urge to reach out and caress some creamy side-boob. What on earth did women do before double-sided tape?

“I believe owning taste buds is qualification enough,” she continued insolently, snapping him out of his reverie.

Reluctantly, Sesto pried his gaze from her magnificent pale tits, long enough to look at her face.

She lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow. In that one exchange, he was certain she knew precisely where his dirty little mind had been. But that was her fault. A woman couldn’t possibly slip into a dress like that and then expect scintillating conversation.

“Sesto, may I call you Sesto?” Parks, the producer interrupted. Then not waiting for a response, he said, “This is your fellow judge, Ms. Syn Fully.”

Sesto snorted in disdain. In part, because he found the pen-name quite comical, and secondly, he couldn’t believe a grown woman would go around calling herself such a ridiculous pseudonym. In the beginning of his career, he’d considered changing his name because people botched the pronunciation all the time. But he discarded the idea, he was proud of his American-Italian background. Besides he enjoyed correcting people. And even if they mangled his name, they always remembered it.

“Seriously, you couldn’t come up with a better alias as far as romance novelists go?” Sesto mocked.

“Laugh if you will Mr. Théodore, but no one ever forgets my name,” she replied, as if she’d just read his thought. Although she’d pronounced it wrong, too, coming from her full beautiful lips, he found he didn’t mind. She’d said Tay-a-door with a bit of an accent, giving it an almost French nuance. Nevertheless, he’d still correct her just to be an ass.

“Yeah, after they quit busting a gut,” he returned. “I’m sure mommy and daddy Fully are incredibly proud of the titillating mommy-porn you push down despondent women’s throats. And I can assure you, it’s not your name they’re remembering.” Blatantly, he dropped his gaze to her ample bosom. “And it’s Tee-a-door,” he said slowly as if she were not overly bright.

Simultaneously, Syn rolled her shapely shoulder, while trailing her tongue over the line of her full bottom lip. Sesto’s cock jerked as he followed the mesmerizing gesture closely.

The woman was carefully made up. Her green eyes were dramatically shadowed with sweeping black lashes and darkly lined to give her a catlike gaze. Yet her lips were totally bare, devoid of any color save the richness of natural pigment. He liked that. One would expect flashy red lipstick to go along with the crimson French-tip fingernails and the cherry fuck-me dress.

“And just for the record, I’m not a romance novelist, Chef Tay-a-door.” This time she said his last name slowly, as if he was the unintelligent one, and there was no doubt she’d deliberately mispronounced it. “I write erotica, pure sex. Screw romance.”

With that strident pronouncement she turned away, giving him an excellent view of her bare back.

Damn, I wish she’d worn that dress backwards. His gaze was drawn to the curve of her slim waist. Fortunately, his hands were still in fists. Though it didn’t stop him from wanting to skim his fingers up her spine. Would she shiver at my touch or slap my damn smug face?

“Ahh, I see,” Sesto retorted. “So Syn actually stands for cynical, not sinful.”

She barely afforded him a glance over her shoulder, instead, Ms. Fully greeted the newly arrived hockey player—standing on the tips of her stilettos she placed a kiss on his cheek. Sesto wondered why she hadn’t given him a nice little peck.

“It’s been a long time, Kiska,” the toothless athlete said in stilted English, then he placed a kiss to each of her cheeks.

Kiska. If memory served him correctly, the endearment meant kitten.

“It’s been years, Maksim,” Syn gushed.

Sesto detected a smile in the author’s voice and perhaps even some genuine affection for the big Russian. Not at all the chilly tone she’d reserved for him.

“Yes, at least three. You were still with Dmitri, when I was traded. I was sorry to hear it ended. But not too sorry.” He smiled at her as if he’d like to take her home.

Like a simpering idiot, the set’s little gopher-boy hovered at the statuesque brunette’s elbow. “Here’s some water for you, Ms. Fully.”

Turning, she smiled down at the kid. “Thank you…Chase, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Call me Syn. I only insist the clientele call me ma’am,” she said with a wink, giving the impression she not only wrote stories about kink but she also lived them.

“Yes, ma’am,” the kid stuttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. Sesto resisted the urge to do the same.

What is it about this woman? Yes, she was lovely and she had a bangin’ body, but he’d been with beautiful women before. Nonetheless, it would seem the athlete, the key grip, and the chef, all had hard-ons for the erotica writer.

Was that it? Men assumed because she wrote about it, she could dish it out? No harm in finding out.

The producer along with the director approached and began to explain what was expected. It was shaping up to be a long day of waiting around while the contestants cooked.

“I’m Ken, the director. So if you’ll take your seats, we’ll have the host introduce you on camera, we’ll present the competitors and then while they cook, you can have some down time or you’re free to watch them prepare what you’ll be sampling. There will be four rounds, an appetizer, a soup, a main, and a dessert. You will eliminate a contestant after every round. When there are only two contestants left, we have a surprise for them, when our own Chef Théodore will prepare a meal. Each competitor will be given the unenviable task of duplicating his dish by taste alone, as they will be sequestered while he cooks. The one closest to Chef’s recipe will be our winner and the final decision will be his, given that the victor will also gain a position in Chef’s most recent restaurant. Any questions?”

“Good,” Ken said when all three judges shook their heads. He then pulled out the middle chair at the evaluation table. “Syn.”

While she elegantly took a seat, Ken leaned in and whispered something in her ear. She grinned and stared down at the tabletop, giving no hint anything untoward had just been mumbled into her ear. Most likely she was used to men talking dirty to her.

Sesto sat next to her.

“Have you been properly introduced to Maksim, Chef Tay-a-door?” The huskiness in Syn’s voice went straight to his groin.

“No, and there’s no need. The host is about to do so,” Sesto responded in short.

Syn turned to the hockey puck with legs, and whispered to him. Maks threw his blond head back and roared at whatever she’d said. Then the two of them focused on him. It was nice that they were having a laugh at his expense.

“Something you’d like to share with the class, Ms. Fully?” Sesto asked, coldly.

“Mmm, I usually don’t like to share with strangers. At least not until I’ve known them more than ten minutes. But if you insist.”

She tapped her pointy little tongue repeatedly on the center of her upper lip before answering. Sesto was fascinated by the action, and almost forgot the question.

“I said that you looked like you could use a good blow job. Release some of that obvious tension,” Syn said straight faced.

Sesto’s cock swelled not only at her words, but also that crazy thing she’d done with her tongue. Fuck! How was he to maintain a cool demeanor when he felt like she’d just licked his dick?

“Save your crass vocabulary for your adoring yet easily stimulated fans, Ms. Fully, it won’t work on me.”

The corner of her mouth quirked and her eyes narrowed. “Oh, really,” she breathed as if she damn well knew the painful state she had him in. “I almost wish to verify your quick denial for myself, Chef Tay-a-dor.” He watched her plump lips as she enunciated his name.

Fisting his hands, so that he wouldn’t be tempted to grab one of hers and place it in his crotch, and prove she was absolutely correct in her assumption—instead he addressed the director. “Can we get on with this?”

“Places everyone,” Ken called.

The host appeared wearing a cheap suit. He looked more like a used car salesman.

“That’s not going to work.” Sesto pointed. “Get him a decent suit. And if he opens his mouth and sounds like a cheesy game show host, I’m walking. I will not be associated with the circus this production is shaping up to be.”

Patience gone, Sesto stood and tucked his hands in his trouser pockets. “Washed up athletes, half-dressed trashy novelists, and a garish emcee,” he mumbled. “I was looking for some class and sophistication not a spectacle. Don’t forget whose name is on that marquee.” He waved in the direction of the sign above the temporary kitchen.

“Yes, sir, Chef,” Ken said in a rush. “We’ll take care of it.”

Sesto had half a mind to call his agent. This was bullshit. What the hell had he gotten him into? He’d be a laughingstock among the other television chefs.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he remembered lambasting other top culinary experts when they’d first done shows similar to Protégés. Why was he doing this? He certainly didn’t need the money. But his agent thought it might help the public’s perception of him. He thought his public image was just fine.





Friday, 13 April 2018

Guest Post - Afraid To Reveal - by Charlotte Leaf [Afraid To series #1] #99cents #RomanticSuspense

Please Welcome Charlotte Leaf  




Thank you so much H K for the opportunity to introduce myself to your readers. The first thing my friends and family will tell you about me is that I'm a voracious reader, consuming everything from political biographies to psychological thrillers. However, I must confess a weakness for romantic suspense novels, both reading and writing them. Give me the latest release by Sandra Brown or Melinda Leigh and I'm a happy soul.

In writing my own romantic suspense novel, I tried to create a heroine who was smart, yet not in possession of all the facts. A woman who was strong, yet vulnerable and who was open to falling in love but not dependent on a man for anything. One of my pet peeves in books are heroines who are TSTL, i.e. Too Stupid To Live. A woman who can't think for herself or doesn't know enough to stay out of danger until the hero comes along to rescue her. I wanted the heroine of my story to be someone who had the confidence and resilience to solve her own problems without having to rely on the hero. But this risks turning the hero of the story into an afterthought and his romance with the heroine into an extraneous subplot instead of being a central part of the story.

In Afraid To Reveal, I addressed this by creating a hero in Andrew Fabreci whose strengths and weaknesses complement that of my heroine, Jill Beckwith. In the story, Jill's bright future gets derailed when she wakes up in jail the night before her college graduation and is subsequently arrested and charged with a DUI. The murder of one of her college classmates leads Jill to realize there are links to her own arrest and she's compelled to seek the truth behind the circumstances behind her arrest. While Jill can do this on her own, Andrew provides integral support and insight during her investigation. In turn, Andrew has challenges from his own complicated past that Jill helps him to overcome. Jill and Andrew both have their flaws, but they find strength in their deepening relationship, even though they face danger from a desperate killer.

In my next book, Afraid To Tell, Elise Cahill is a bright law clerk for a federal judge who aspires to clerk for a Supreme Court Justice. But her chances of landing the coveted position are compromised when the man with whom she has a one night stand, Ethan Soames, is accused of murdering his ex-wife. Ethan needs Elise's assistance to clear his name but Elise is reluctant to get involved for fear of jeopardizing her potential Supreme Court clerkship. When another murder occurs, Elise finds she's now the one under suspicion and needs Ethan's help. Like with Jill and Andrew, I tried to create in Elise and Ethan a couple who need help from and can provide help to each other. I think this is the balance in creating heroines (and heroes too!) who aren't TSTL but are willing to accept help in dangerous situations while also falling in love.

What are some characteristics of some of your favorite heroines? I'd love to hear your thoughts. You can reach me at charlotteleafauthor@gmail.com or on Facebook at Charlotte Leaf. You can check out my upcoming releases at charlotteleaf.com and be sure to sign up for my newsletter while you're there!



On the verge of graduating from college as a top scholar and a recipient of a prestigious fellowship, Jill Beckwith's life is derailed the night before graduation when she wakes up in a jail cell. With no memories of what happened or how she got there, Jill's stunned when she learns she is to be arrested for a DUI. In an instant, all of her years of diligent study and hard work as well as her hopes for future are dashed.

Months later, just as Jill is on the path to regaining her footing, her newfound stability is threatened when she realizes that the recent murder of a college classmate may have links to her own troubles. While the connections between the two incidents seem tenuous, Jill is desperate to find any explanation for how her life inexplicably unraveled. She's aided in her discovery for the truth by Andrew Fabreci, a man to whom she's attracted and has a complicated past of his own. Just as their relationship begins to deepen, another murder occurs and Jill and Andrew realize their future is threatened by a killer who intends for Jill to be the next target.


Afraid To Reveal is a 60,000+ word romantic suspense novel


  

The First Chapter

Jill Beckwith didn’t know which was worse, the insistent painful pounding between her temples or the horrible, rancid taste lingering in her mouth.
Ugh, I must be coming down with the flu, she thought. Except that with the flu, she usually felt achy all over her body. For now, the pain was localized in her head, an unsteady an unwelcome drumbeat to consciousness.
As gross as she felt, Jill decided to give in to the urge to roll over and try to catch a few more minutes of sleep. However, two things stopped her. First, a violent roiling in her stomach let her know she needed to find the nearest toilet, not the other side of the bed. Second, she was not in her bed. In fact, she wasn’t in her room or even in her apartment.
The sudden awareness caused Jill to jerk upright, a move she instantly regretted because the sudden motion made her headache and nausea even worse. She placed her hands palm down on either side of her and tried to gather her bearings, Jill noticed the metal bars for the first time.
What the hell? That’s when she noticed, too, that her bed was actually a cot attached to a seeming block wall. And that the room she was in was actually a windowless self-contained cramped space, six feet by eight feet if she had to guess.
This is a cell, Jill thought, I’m in jail.
Her first instinct was to deny the possibility. There was no way she could be in jail. Graduation ceremonies were due to kick off tomorrow and she was scheduled to give an address as one of her class’s top scholars. And in a few short weeks, she would be in she would be at the London School of Economics studying as part of the prestigious Cronin Fellowship she’d won. There was no way she was in jail right now. There had to be some mistake, some terrible mix-up. Jill even pitched yourself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming but the flash of pain told her this situation was all too real.
Okay, so how did I get here? Jill desperately tried to recall something, anything that would explain how she wine wound up behind bars. Her last memories were of going to the Blue Dolphin to celebrate college graduation. The popular off campus bar wasn’t her usual scene but her ex-boyfriend, Owen, insisted that taking part in the Blue Dolphin shindig was a rite of passage no graduating senior could ignore.
Despite her initial hesitation, Jill gave in, something she remembered regretting shortly after arriving at the bar. Owen thought her accepting his invitation meant she wanted to get back together. After she repeated her belief they should just be friends, Owen stormed off, disappearing into the horde of people crowded in the bar.
Had she gone after him? Jill didn’t know because that’s where her memories ended. But a spat with Owen wouldn’t have landed her in jail. She tried to force her brain into providing an explanation but she kept drawing a blank.
“So Snow White finally decided to rejoin the land of the living?”
The nasally, sarcasm inflicted voice interrupted Jill’s thoughts. “Huh? Snow White?”
A female officer in a white and navy uniform shot Jill a look of barely concealed disdain. “Is it Snow White the one who was dead to the world until the prince came along and work with woke her up? Or is that Sleeping Beauty? Well, no matter, you’re awake now so we can process and book you.”
“Process and book me for what? Why am I here?”
The officer rolled her eyes and said with exaggerated patience, “We found you in your car passed out on the side of a service road a few miles from here with the keys still in the ignition. You were brought here to sleep it off but that doesn’t mean you won’t be charged.”
“Charged?” Jill’s heart began to pop in a rapid rhythm that almost matched the pounding in her head. “Charged with what? I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“Driving under the influence, young lady. You’re lucky you didn’t hurt yourself or worse, someone else. Your student ID was among your belongings. I’m guessing you were celebrating graduation and let things get out of hand.”
The officer shook her head and her eyes briefly softened was something that looked like pity. “I have to say you’re not off to the best start in the real world, but it could’ve been much worse. As soon as we get you booked and processed, you can call someone to come bail you out.”
The officer unlocked the door and slid the bars back but Jill remained seated on the cot, dumbfounded by what she’d just been told. DUI? Passed out on the side of the road? Bail?
“Um, wait… There must be some mistake. I would never drink and drive. There’s too much at stake for me to take such a risk.”
The officer rolled her eyes again and gestured with her fingers for Jill to stand up. “Save it for your lawyer and the judge, honey. Now, come on and let’s get you booked, I don’t have all day.”
            Jill stood and went with the officer, still confused by accusations but knowing she needed to follow orders for the time being. This has to be a mistake, she told herself. I’ll get booked and then get bailed out and set everything right. Too much is riding on my future for me to have an arrest record. This is all a mistake that will be fixed shortly.