Thanks for having me today Delilah.
We do crazy things as authors, and we get our inspiration for our stories from just about anywhere. I am working on my 5th book in the SEAL Brotherhood series, called Cruisin’ For A SEAL. It’s the first time I’ve taken a long, extended vacation to write a book, and wrote nearly 1/3 of it onboard a cruise ship traveling from Italy to Brazil. This is where my story takes place.
First, I had never been to any of the ports we stopped at: Marakesh, Casablanca, Tenerife, Cape Verde, Sao Paolo, Rio, Santos. The crossing took us over the Equator, taking us from Winter in the Northern Hemisphere, to Summer in the Southern Hemisphere. There was a ritual in crossing this line we fully participated in. Salsa and flour and egg in the hair, jump into the salt water pool. A memorable experience.
My story follows the same itinerary: several members of SEAL Team 3 are on a vacation together with their wives and girlfriends, when terrorists take over the ship. Of course they save the day, and nearly everyone on board. Being the only Americans on this particular cruise, I met people from all over the world, and got a good cross-section of peoples and cultures to use in the story. I wrote late at night, early in the AM. Anywhere and everywhere. I wrote when I couldn’t sleep.
My hero and heroine meet before the cruise sets sail, in Savona, Italy. They spend a night together and expect they will never see each other again, which of course doesn’t happen.
Here’s the excerpt from Cruisin’ For A SEAL:
She was a pretty brunette with skinny legs, wearing high heeled camo boots, which is what got his attention originally. Waiting on a street corner, he thought perhaps she was a working girl. Marc decided to sit, have a cappuccino and watch the passers by.
She was joined by an older woman who could have been her mother. The two took a table next to him and the Italian flowed all over his body like a gentle rain.
The coffee was delivered to him and he nodded without speaking, not wanting the ladies to identify him as American. Not that it would make any difference, of course, because he had no intention of talking to them.
The heart-shaped design in the foam floating on the top of his cappuccino put a fishhook to his heart. He stared down at it with a wince, but welcomed the creamy taste. The shot of caffeine gave him the jolt he was seeking.
His eyes drifted from the cluster of pigeons trying to dodge scooters and pedestrians to the table next door. The younger woman was slipping off her
black raincoat, revealing an ample chest delicately restrained in a stretchy black dress that came down low in a dangerous V. She held her water glass with long delicate fingers and short red nails. A colorful charm bracelet encircled her small wrist.
He followed the glass she was holding until it mated with her full red lips. Her large brown eyes darted in his direction, then she repositioned them on the face of her companion across the table. But then she smiled. He knew that smile was intended for him as such as he understood his dick was interested for the first time in three months.
The Italian was luxurious. No other way to describe it. An Italian love ballad was playing somewhere down the arched tunnel between the piazza and the homes of the locals above. He didn’t know the words, but loved the feeling it imparted to him. He understood some of the words, like Amore. He’d not have tolerated this sappy show or sensual drifting until tonight, but he was fantasizing the lady was rubbing the glass against her bottom lip for him, sucking the ice cube she held in her left hand as she flipped it inside and out of her lips, wrapping it in her pink tongue.
She smiled at her companion, and he wanted to lick the dimple that dared to show itself on the left of her cheek. He knew she’d taste good. He knew just a drop of her juices on his tongue would send him places he’d missed. His little brain had the pompoms and the little cheering section. Was already nekked with the young lady with the big tits and the beautiful full red lips. His fingers had found how her silky inner thighs quivered under his touch.
What are you doing?
She was a pleasant fantasy, and if he was completely honest and felt she would understand him, he’d thank her. But he was a dog. He was a dog about ready to embark on a cruise out of port with some of his best buds. He’d never come back here to Savona, and would never see her again.
I will reward a free audio book to one person who leaves a comment, chosen at random. Here’s your question: If you were going to go on a cruise with your favorite author, where would you go, and what story would you want to read/write?
Enjoy the sample audio clip from this book, which is on Preorder until March 1st.