What Goes On Behind Closed Doors?
By Donna Alward
A big huge Thank You to Delilah for hosting me today! Itâs kind of a special day. I have a print release from Samhain Publishing that hits shelves today and anytime a book releases itâs a reason to celebrate, I think!
SOLD TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER evolved from a simple idea: what if a wife bought her husband off a bachelor auction block? The first question of course is…why is a married man in a bachelor auction? Turns out the answer that came back to me was that the marriage wasnât exactly a functioning relationship. In fact, the moment the heroine sees him on the stage is the first time sheâs clapped eyes on him since right after their wedding. Over a decade earlier.
Most of my published works are written for Harlequin Romance, and as such the bedroom door is closed. Sometimes stuff happens behind those closed doors, and sometimes not. Iâm okay with that—the emotional journey is always first and foremost after all! But every now and again I like to write a little hotter. Sometimes I write those âclosed doorâ scenes just for me. They donât make it into the book, but I know whatâs happened. And knowing the details, I know exactly what the consequences—emotional and otherwise—will be for the characters.
I have more latitude with my Samhain books, and I really enjoyed letting loose with this story. Dev is pretty darn sexy, and Ella would rather forget just how spectacular the fireworks are between them. But of course, she canât! And I let the door stay wide open for those scenes. It was pretty fun, actually, and I ended up being quite happy with the results. One reader reviewed the book and commented that, âA reader would expect this book to be ‘hot’ and it really is. What I didnât expect was for the âhotâ scenes to be so well integrated into the plot that the story would not have moved forward without them. How, when, where, and why the hero and heroine make love is woven seamlessly into the plot.â
Iâve got an excerpt for you—more of a teaser of whatâs to come, really. Itâs the first night Ella and Dev have seen each other since she left him, and theyâve toasted their troubles with a good amount of bourbon…

He tried to turn her and steer her to the bedroom. Good Lord, she was going to have a head on her in the morning. He hadnât meant for her to get this tipsy. Of course, she was a little bit of a thing. Compact, a bundle of energy and passion. Her breast grazed his hand and he gritted his teeth. If she hated him now, sheâd really despise him in the morning if they slept together. Almost as much as heâd hate himself. He was in control. It was time she knew that. If she thought sheâd get what she came for easily, she had another thing coming.
Heâd take what he wanted first.
âDev?â
âYeah?â
âYouâre so tall. You know that, right?â
He smiled. She could make it so hard to hate her, especially when she used that soft, slightly plaintive tone like she had to have it or sheâd just die. âYeah, rumor has it.â
âNo, I mean really tall. Tall like women like their men to be tall. So that we have to tip our head back and look way up.â She sighed, her sex-kitten eyelids drifting half-shut. âSexy tall.â
âShut up, Ell.â A muscle ticked in his jaw and in another strategic location. If she kept looking at him that way he was going to find it very difficult to put her in bed and walk away. But heâd be damned if heâd give in to her tonight. No matter what it cost him.
They took two steps.
âDev?â
He sighed.
âYes, Ell?â
She gripped his other arm so she was facing him, looking up at him with her dark eyes and lips red and slightly puffy, ripe to be kissed. He swallowed, hard. God, how heâd loved her.
She did it then, standing up on her tiptoes, melding her mouth to his, the flavor of the bourbon seducing them tongue-to-tongue. His mouth opened in an instinctive reaction to feeling hers on it. He lifted one hand and cupped her head, sending the prim twist askew, hairpins dropping to the floor. Her breasts were firm against his chest and she let go briefly to tug at the hem of his T-shirt.
âTake this off,â she murmured, pulling the hem up over his abs. âNot in front of the bar. Not for Katie McGrew.â She said the other womanâs name with just enough venom for Dev to enjoy the surprising fact she was jealous. âTake it off for me.â
For her. The words fired him up and he reached behind his head, grabbing at the collar and pulling it over in one swift movement. This much. Heâd allow this much. Heâd let her get a good hard reminder of what sheâd thrown away. But no more. They didnât dare go any further.
Her fingers trailed down over his skin, the sensitive skin of his ribs, down his shoulder and to his elbow. âMmm.â
He slid his hand over her blouse, allowing himself one gratifying handful as he kissed her fully. Despite the Jim Beam or the years that had passed, her taste was as familiar to him as the smell of sweetgrass. Ella. His Ella. He kept his mouth fused to hers as he blindly undid the buttons of her blouse, filling his hands with her breasts once the fabric fell away. Her hand slid around to cup his bottom through his jeans.
A murmur sounded deep in her throat and he knew he had to stop, reminded himself that sex right now would only make things worse. He couldnât afford to spend Saturday dealing with post-coital fallout. Sheâd blame him forâŚwhat? There would be something, he was sure, and it would be all his fault and none of hers. No, tonight heâd leave her wanting more. He was the one with the self-control here. Heâd get her to damn near ache for him, the way heâd ached for her for months after sheâd abandoned him. And then maybe heâd sign her precious papers. After his lawyerâd looked at them. His terms, he reminded himself. She owed him that.
It took all his resolve, but he backed away, leaving her standing stunned and utterly beautiful.
âGo to bed, Ella.â He pushed her towards the single bedroom. âIf you donât, youâll hate yourself in the morning far worse than you hate me right now.â
She turned and stared up at him with dazed, hurt eyes. He couldnât bear for her to argue, so he walked out into the cool September air, letting the screen door slap behind him.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Thanks for sharing today with me! You can catch up with me at my site, or on twitter—@DonnaAlward.