I’m definitely getting coal in my stocking this year. Yeah, it’s true. I try so hard to be good. I really do! But I have a demon sitting on one shoulder and she’s so much more fun than the angel on my other shoulder. What’s that? You don’t believe me? (Apparently you’ve never read one of my books!)
For you doubters, here’s a laundry list of my sins:
- I torture my characters. Yeah, I really do. It’s part of my job. And to make things even worse, I enjoy it! LOL
- I write dirty books. Yup, my characters are nice people but they’re always doing dirty (yummy) things. I don’t know how that happens. I really don’t.
- When I’m in thrall to one of my stories, I sometimes go weeks without cleaning my house. I usually give in about the time fist-sized fur tumbleweeds skim across my floors when I walk through. (That doesn’t take as long as you might think, since I have 13 dogs!)
- I corrupt others. I not only write dirty books, I entice others to read them. (cue evil grin and waggling eyebrows). In fact, I work really hard at enticing others into debauchery with me. You should try it, it’s fun and burns calories!
- I’m totally, completely unrepentant. I’ll do it all over again next year. In fact I might double down on it. Because it’s how I roll. #:0)
Yeah, there’s a lump of coal in my future. Probably lots of them. But I look at it this way, diamonds come from carbon (as does coal). My lump isn’t really coal at all. It’s just a 10 karat diamond in its nascent form. Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!
Merry Christmas everybody!
He just wants her to take life a little more seriously. She’s decided he could have a point. Especially now that somebody wants her dead.
Dolfe Honeybun broke up with Blaise Runa because her party girl ways were driving him to distraction. Unfortunately, out of sight does NOT mean out of mind. And when his favorite party girl sees something she shouldn’t and finds herself being chased by a cold blooded killer… reason shuts down and Dolfe’s heart takes over. If only he can get to her in time!
* * *
I like big butts and I cannot lie…
Dolfe’s head jerked off the pillow, groggy from an unusually deep sleep. His heart pounded as he reached over and shut off the phone. Cursing Blaise. The ringtone had been her idea. She’d told him, grinning, that it would remind him of her every time it rang. Dolfe silently berated himself for not changing it to something mature and soothing.
She’d been right. The tone did remind him of her…of the lush firmness of her perfect backside…the velvet feel of her skin…the sensual tang of her delicious scent.
God knew he didn’t need any more reminders of Blaise. Her essence was infused in every fabric in his home. Her presence saturated every cell of his existence. A battered paperback behind the sofa cushions…a bottle of siren red nail polish shoved to the back of his medicine cabinet.
She was everywhere.
Dolfe had thought breaking up with her would be enough to exorcise her from his life.
What an idiot he’d been.
He opened his eyes and squinted at the clock. Three flippin’ AM. He groaned, flopping back to the pillow and closed his eyes, determined to ignore whoever the asswipe was who thought it was a good idea to call him in the middle of the night.
For a brief, enticing moment he thought he might be able to do it. Go back to sleep. His muscles softened…his thoughts clouded… He took a deep breath, expelling it softly…
I like big butts and I cannot lie…
Dolfe growled his frustration and grabbed the cell, stabbing at the button to answer it. “This better be fucking good.”
Silence met his growled, less than friendly greeting. No. That wasn’t completely right. If he listened carefully he could hear breathing, soft and staccato. “Who’s there?”
A tiny squeak. Panic swirled through Dolfe. “Blaise? Is that you? I’m sorry, honey. You woke me up. What’s wrong?” He didn’t know how he knew it was her. He just did, in that instinctive, age-old way of lovers who’d been, even for a short time, totally in tune with each other.
“He killed her.”
The simple statement, thick with tears, ripped through whatever grogginess Dolfe might still be feeling and tore him from the bed. He was reaching for his jeans even as he spoke again. “Who killed who, honey. Tell me you’re all right. Let’s start with that. I need to know right now that you’re okay.”
She pulled air into her lungs in a shaky breath. “I’m okay. But…” Another squeak, “He saw me, Dolfe. He’s coming after me.”
Dolfe scrubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Okay, honey, listen to me. Get someplace public. A busy restaurant or something. Sit down at a table facing the door and wait for me. Watch for me. I can be there in minutes. Just tell me where you are.”
A soft sob, the sound of the phone dropping, crashing against something.
Dolfe’s guts heaved into his throat. “Blaise!”
USA Today Bestselling Author Sam Cheever writes romantic paranormal/fantasy and mystery/suspense, creating stories that celebrate the joy of love in all its forms. Known for writing great characters, snappy dialogue, and unique and exhilarating stories, Sam is the award-winning author of 50+ books and has been writing for over a decade under several noms de plume.
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