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M. S. Spencer: The Pit and the Passion
Sunday, April 15th, 2018

The Pit and the Passion: Murder at the Ghost Hotel is my new mystery romance, set in Sarasota on the Gulf Coast of Florida. As John Ringling saw when he first arrived at the turn of the 20th century, it is a paradise.

“A beam of red light shot through her window. Sunset already? She got up, fixed herself a drink, and took it to the balcony. She watched as the sun sank into the gulf, long, needle-like pincers of light stretching out as though it wanted to hook the horizon and hang on for dear life. Like Kilroy, whatever was pulling it from below won the battle and the sun dipped, leaving its signature green spot as a token of affection for the world.”

This is what it’s like to live on the Gulf Coast of Florida. By day the sky is the deep blue of Paul Newman’s eyes; at close of day it’s flooded with a full palette of reds, oranges, pinks and purples. I have a lot of pictures of my granddaughter—I have even more pictures of sunsets in Sarasota!

Here’s the story of The Pit & the Passion:

At midnight, in the darkness of a deserted hotel, comes a scream and a splash. Eighty-five years later, workmen uncover a skeleton in an old elevator shaft. Who is it, and how did it get there? To find out, Charity Snow, ace reporter for the Longboat Key Planet, teams up with Rancor Bass, best-selling author. A college ring they find at the dig site may prove to be their best clue.

Although his arrogance nearly exceeds his talent, Charity soon discovers a warm heart beating under Rancor’s handsome exterior. While dealing with a drop-dead gorgeous editor who may or may not be a villain, a publisher with a dark secret, and an irascible forensic specialist, Charity and Rancor unearth an unexpected link to the most famous circus family in the world.

The Pit and the Passion: Murder at the Ghost Hotel
The Wild Rose Press, January 22, 2018 (Crimson Rose)
Mystery, Humorous/Romantic Comedy
Rating: PG13
418 p.; 97370 words

Excerpt (PG): The Man on the Beach

The Milky Way spread a swath of cream overhead. One small cloud trundled across the sky. Behind it peeped a gibbous moon. The beach was wide here, sweeping south in a twelve-mile-long arc but ending only a few yards north of her at a severely eroded cliff.

Not a soul stirred on the sand, except for a couple of willets picking their way along the edge of the water. She turned and headed toward the cliff.

Someone had left a beach chair out. She sat and watched the waves, listening to the chittering of the sandpipers and the putt-putt of a trawler far out. She assumed the rustle behind her was a ghost crab and kept quiet, hoping to catch a glimpse of it. She loved the way they would stop, half in and half out of their holes, their eyestalks waving. They’re so sure they’re invisible.

Charity?”

She jumped straight up, knocking the chair backward.

“What th—?” Her heart pounding, she turned. At that moment, the cloud shrouded the moon, and in the sudden darkness she could only make out a form.

“Who…who’s there?”

“It’s me. Rancor. Rancor Bass.”

She held out a hand and encountered a broad chest, lightly furred. She pulled it back quickly. “Are you…are you…”

He snickered. “Naked? As a matter of fact, yes.”

She backed up. A splash told her that her brand-new sandals were likely ruined. She vaulted out of the water and landed between two bare arms.

“Easy there, Charity. I hardly know you.”

“Stop it, Mr. Bass. And let me go. If I were you I’d drop that conceited tone. I wouldn’t be caught dead in your arms.”

His voice came low, laughter licking at its edges. “You don’t feel dead to me. In fact”—she tensed at the touch of a finger on the inside of her elbow—“you feel very much alive. And quite…fresh. Call me Rancor.”

“Rancor Bass, you leave me alone.” She tried to walk around the shadow, but an arm snaked out and caught her. She opened her mouth to scream and found two lips smothering hers. She stood quite still, fear and…something else…oh my God, desire?…taking over her senses.

He let her go. “Couldn’t resist. Wanted to see if those defensive walls could be breached.” He sat down in the chair. The moon came out from behind the cloud and cast a pale glow on his hair. “You’re a tough cookie, Charity.”

She wanted to deny it, to tell him how vulnerable she could be, but knew that would be very stupid. She wanted to kiss him again but knew that would be even more stupid. So she settled for a grunt and walked away.

He didn’t follow, and as she reached the dunes, she felt an unexpected twinge of disappointment. Could this man be the one? Nah. Still, preoccupied by this novel notion, she decided to skip the police station and go straight home. As she turned into her condominium parking lot, the obvious question finally occurred to her. What the hell is Rancor Bass doing naked on the beach in the middle of the night?

Buy Links:
Wild Rose Press:
https://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/all-titles/5533-the-pit-and-the-passion-murder-at-the-ghost-hotel.html
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Pit-Passion-Murder-Ghost-Hotel-ebook/dp/B078JY8RLY
ITunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-pit-and-the-passion-murder-at-the-ghost-hotel/id1332026896?mt=11
Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-pit-and-the-passion-m-s-spencer/1127750685?ean=2940158925351
KOBO: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-pit-and-the-passion-murder-at-the-ghost-hotel
Google: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/M_S_Spencer_The_Pit_and_the_Passion_Murder_at_the?id=F-tGDwAAQBAJ

About the Author

Although M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five of the seven continents, the last thirty years were spent mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, policy wonk, non-profit director, and parent. After many years in academia, she worked for the U.S. Senate, the U.S. Department of the Interior, in several library systems, both public and academic, and at the Torpedo Factory Art Center.

Ms. Spencer has published eleven romantic suspense novels, and has two more in utero. She has two fabulous grown children and an incredible granddaughter. She divides her time between the Gulf Coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

Find her events and news at RomanceBooks4Us:
http://www.romancebooks4us.com/M.S._Spencer.html

and Moonlight and Mystery:
http://www.moonlightandmystery.com/

Contacts:
Blog:
http://msspencertalespinner.blogspot.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/msspencerromance
Twitter: www.twitter.com/msspencerauthor
Google +: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+MSSpencerauthor
GoodReads: http://www.goodreads.com/msspencer
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/msspencerauthor/
Linked in: www.linkedin.com/in/msspencerauthor

Miguelina Perez: The Vicar’s Deadly Sin
Sunday, September 10th, 2017

I remember being in my early teens and hearing voices in my head. Good thing these voices were stories. Stories I told my little sister to put her to sleep. And they were stories of heroines in trouble and the heroes who came to their rescue with the much required happily ever after endings.

In my high school’s library, I discovered Victoria Holt and Phyllis Whitney. They were my introduction to romance and mystery and from there on I was hooked.

As I got older the voices quieted down. Then one day they started up again. All types of adventures. Still I ignored them for I did not know what they meant.

Then in my thirties I discovered Nora Roberts and Jane Austen. Love the regency period. Voices came back. After meeting with several authors, I realized the voices were stories waiting to be told.

I loved the retelling of Jane Austen’s stories so I decided to create my own, especially when I could hear Lady Jane Bartholomew and Miss Margaret Renard wanting their stories told. This brought about The Vicar’s Deadly Sin.

The Vicar’s Deadly Sin

A Touch of Romance…A Touch of Regency…A Touch of Murder…

Lady Jane Bartholomew and Miss Margaret Renard have been friends since the age of twelve. Together they share their dreams, hopes and a love for reading. However, it is their wild imagination and a penchant for solving mysteries that will test their abilities when the Vicar of Dover is found murdered.

The young ladies are joined by two gentlemen, also eager to find the murderers and prove to the ladies that detecting is a man’s job, though the gentlemen find their beauty, wit, and pride more troublesome than solving a murder.

Get your copy here!

About the Author

Ms. Miguelina Perez is a writer and jewelry artist. She earned her Bachelor of Arts degree in English from the University of the District of Columbia. As a jewelry artist one of her lariats was showcased in the San Antonio Express-News. She has won several awards including a critical Writing award for an essay on the gender roles of Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn and Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women.

It was during her high school years at the school’s library that she first encountered her first romance mystery writer – Ms. Victoria Holt and then Ms. Phyllis J. Whitney.  Her love of romance novels stems from those discoveries, especially the Romance mystery genre.

Several of her poems have been published in anthologies, and she was named “Poet of Year in 1995”. She finished her first book, The Vicar’s Deadly Sin – a Regency romance mystery, the first of a seven-part serial based on the Seven Deadly Sins.

Currently, she is in editing mode with “Angel’s Lust” from her Seven Deadly Sins series and working on “A Hero of Her Own” a contemporary romance thriller, about a serial killer terrorizing New York.

Ms. Perez is a member of the Romance Writers of America and two of its chapters:Washington Romance Writers and Maryland Romance Writers . As newsletter editor for WRW, she contributes articles about writing and author interviews.

Originally from Brooklyn, NY, Ms. Perez resides in Gaithersburg, Maryland and can be reached at: miguelinaperez@miguelinaperezauthor.com. You can also follow Ms. Perez via twitter at: @MPerezAuthor.

Janet Lane-Walters: Murder and Mint Tea (Giveaway)
Thursday, August 3rd, 2017

UPDATE: The winner is Jackie Wisherd!

* * * * *

The birth of a series. Years ago, I was selling short stories frequently. Now this was in 1968 when my first short story was published. I wrote a story called “And So We Walk On Eggshells.” I sent it out to an editor who had bought several of my other stories. The mss came back with this comment, “This sounds like the synopsis of a novel.” I put the story in the file cabinet and forgot about it. The short story market went bust with many magazines closing or changing direction.

So I moved on to novels. The learning process took several years and many rejections of the same book. In 1972 the first novel sold. There were so many publishers in existence that this book had sixteen rejections before the acceptance. I was at that time writing what I knew, medical romances. I was a nurse.

Then I found that manuscript for that sounded like a synopsis. I had thrown out a lot of false starts during my striving to become a novelist. The short story and the comments by the editor were in a box in the cellar. I began the quest to turn this into a book called Murder and Mint Tea. I didn’t intend this to be a series but the book in the initial printing sold well and even ended up as a book on tape. Things happened and publishers closed down. This was at the dawn of electronic books when books were sold to be read on the computer. But another idea for my heroine to step into the limelight.

I wrote a second, third, fourth and fifth “cozy mysteries” with my take on the genre. Now it’s several publishers later and the books are live again. They’ve been updated from their earlier versions. Station wagons are gone. Cell phones are in, though my heroine isn’t used to using one but she’s learning. A sixth book is on the horizon. My new publisher has designed a series of covers that show my heroine’s “familiar” Robespierre, a Maine Coon cat.

He was once a living cat found by my sons in the wire hub of my silver car with red racing stripes. The vet said he was perhaps four weeks old. We fed him with a baby bottle and he grew to twenty-five pounds at his greatest weight.

The books, all but the first one have new titles except Murder and Mint Tea. They are Murder and Poisoned Tea, Murder and Tainted Tea, Murder and Bitter Tea, Murder and Herbal tea. I’m currently working on Murder and Sweet Tea. They’re all published by Books We Love LTD, my Canadian publisher.

Next year, I’ll be blogging about all the changes I’ve seen in 50 years of being a published author.  You can find me at  https://wwweclecticwriter.blogspot.com/ My books are available from Kindle, Nook, Kobo, Smashwords and other venues.

Giveaway

I would like to give away a print copy of Murder and Mint Tea. It will be a random drawing from those who comment of this post.

June Shaw: A Fatal Romance (Contest)
Wednesday, May 10th, 2017

UPDATE: The winner is…Toni Whitmire!

* * * * *

I like to read books that make me smile and those about family. I’ve written mysteries and romance and, in this new series, chose to combine them. I realized it would be fun to have two main characters and make them identical twins. One would dread sex because of her sole previous marriage. The other would love sex and have three exes who still want her and shower her with finery. But she’s still trying to find that elusive soul mate. Who just happens to be the man who will take her sister’s breath away and make her feel things she’d thought impossible.

My oldest daughter is a wonderful special ed teacher who loves her challenged students; so do I. That’s why I made the sister who didn’t want romance again have a handicap: she’s dyslexic, which causes her problems. She also has a neurosis that she’s struggling to overcome.

Because I adore older people, I gave the sisters a sweet, spry mother who lives in a retirement home in bayou country, where they and I happily reside. Mom’s cadre of buddies love to give her twin daughters advice about romance. Things they hear from other (or make up to pass the time) might help or hinder trouble the twins when murder comes around and aims at one of them.

Who can they believe? Who can they trust? Is love real—or is the man who seems perfect a killer?

I hope you enjoy their story!

Amazon | Nook

I stood in a rear pew as a petite woman in red stepped into the church carrying an urn and stumbled. She fell forward. Her urn bounced. Its top popped open, and ashes flew. A man’s remains were escaping.

“Oh no!” people cried.

“Jingle bells,” I hummed and tried to control my disorder but could not. Words from the song spewed from my mouth.

“Not now,” my twin Eve said at my ear while ashes sprinkled around us like falling gray snow. She pointed to my jacket’s sleeve and open pocket. “Uh-oh. Parts of him fell in there.”

I saw a few drops like dust on the sleeve and jerked my pocket wider open. Powdery bits lay across the tissue I’d blotted my beige lipstick with right before coming inside St. Gertrude’s. “I think that’s tissue residue,” I said, wanting to convince myself. I grabbed the pocket to turn it inside out.

“Don’t dump that.” Eve shoved on my pocket. “It might be his leg. Or bits of his private parts.”

“Here Comes Santa Claus,” I sang.

She slapped a hand over my mouth. “Hush, Sunny.”

The dead man’s wife shoved up from her stomach to her knees, head spinning toward me like whiplash.

CONTEST

What’s your favorite Cajun food or food from the South? (Mine is boiled crayfish. You’d better get out of my way if there’s only one of them left.)  One winner will be chosen at random and receive your choice of Delilah’s e-books. Get your stomachs thinking!

Lynn Cahoon: Ski Trip, anyone?
Friday, March 3rd, 2017

As a newly divorced woman, I wanted to do something just for me. So that winter, I rented cross country skis and drove the thirty minutes to Bogus Basin, a small ski resort near my home town. I felt reckless. I worried about my car breaking down on the snowy two lane road. I worried about falling and hurting myself. Who would take care of my son? How would I pay my bills without the income I brought in from my second job waitressing? Why was I even spending my only free Saturday morning doing this stupid thing?

Then I pulled the car over in the cross-country parking lot and stepped out into another world. The air felt cold and clear on my face. I bought my day pass, strapped on my skis, and headed down the trail. All of a sudden, my worries disappeared and all I could think of was the routine of my workout. Left, right, left, right. The pace was slow, but steady and as I wound my way around the mountain, I realized that my new life could be like this exercise. One step at a time. Sometimes, I got to slide down a small hill taking advantage of the ease, then I had to climb another one to repeat the process.

I realized my skiing was a metaphor for life. Sometimes it’s easy, maybe goes a little too fast, and sometimes you have to work for what you get. I loved those mornings when I was able to get away from the day to day of my busy life and experience some joy.

So when I was writing the second book in the Cat Latimer series, I wanted a way for Cat’s retreat guests to learn more about each other as well as find the zen I had found that morning on the ski hill. Of course, fiction never quite turns out the same as the reality it mirrors, so the guests found more comfort and relaxation in the ski lodge bar instead of on the slopes. And that’s a whole ‘nother story.

Have you ever tried something new, just for you?

Fatality by Firelight

 

Cat Latimer’s Colorado bed-and-breakfast plays host to writers from all over. But murder is distinctly unwelcome . . .

To kick off a winter writing retreat, Cat and her handyman boyfriend, Seth, escort the aspiring authors to a nearby ski resort, hoping some fresh cold air will wake up their creative muses. But instead of hitting the slopes, they hit the bar—and before long, a tipsy romance novelist named Christina is keeping herself warm with a local ski bum who might have neglected to tell her about his upcoming wedding.

Next thing Cat knows, her uncle, the town sheriff, informs her that the young man’s been found dead in a hot tub—and Christina shows up crying and covered in blood. Now, between a murder mystery, the theft of a rare Hemingway edition, and the arrival of a black-clad stranger in snowy Aspen Hills, Cat’s afraid everything’s going downhill . . .

Purchase Links

Excerpt

The world outside still clung to the previous night, the shadows not quite releasing their hold to the breaking light over the mountain ridge outside Aspen Hills, Colorado. With the first rays of morning, the fresh snow glistened and covered the lawn all around 700 Warm Springs.

Cat Latimer, owner of the Warm Springs Writer’s Retreat, housed in the old Victorian, sat at the kitchen table drinking a mix of hot chocolate and coffee. With a dab of freshly whipped cream, Cat thought Shauna’s winter concoction was just about the most perfect drink ever invented. Her friend, Shauna Mary Clodah, had taken over the role of cook, planner, and manager for the writing retreats. Shauna was a petite, pretty, Irish redhead that cooked like an angel. The small group sitting around the table was drinking the “virgin” version of her mixture. Later, the retreat guests would have the option of adding a shot of Bailey’s Irish Cream or Kahlúa to their cups, an invitation to the muse.

Right now, her guests were tucked in their beds, sleeping. Which was where she wanted to be instead of sitting here in the kitchen. But then she took in the smell of coffee and chocolate mixed together and she sighed in delight.

“I can’t believe you’re taking the group up the mountain. I thought this was supposed to be about writing. They aren’t going to get many words written by spending the day skiing.” Uncle Pete had become a regular at the breakfast table, both when the retreat was in session and when it was just Cat and Shauna milling around the empty house. Her uncle was Aspen Hills’ police chief and Cat’s closest relative.

“It’s part of the Colorado experience.” Cat explained, thinking about her own manuscript sitting on her computer waiting for her to make time to write. The phrase making time to write was a joke. She either wrote or didn’t, and today her word-count chart would show a big fat zero, unless she had the mental energy when they returned from skiing. During the first retreat, she’d managed to get a few pages written—before one of her guests wound up dead in his room. This retreat she’d promised herself that she’d focus on her own work, even when they had guests. Shauna was in charge of the day-to-day activities when the retreat was in session. Cat’s job was to be the resident writer and set a good example as a professional writer. A job that sometimes was harder than other days, especially if she got drawn into a Facebook rotating loop of cute kittens or the occasional photos of hot guys—or worse, one simple question that grew into a research project on the entire history of the Salem Witch trials.

Today was about building relationships and having experiences. Writers needed both.

About the Author

Lynn Cahoon is the author of the NYT and USA Today best-selling Tourist Trap cozy mystery series. Guidebook to Murder, book 1 of the series won the Reader’s Crown for Mystery Fiction in 2015. She’s also pens the recently released, Cat Latimer series. A STORY TO KILL, book 1, came out in mass market paperback September 2016.She lives in a small town like the ones she loves to write about with her husband and two fur babies. Sign up for her newsletter at www.lynncahoon.com

Social Media links:

  • Goodreads – http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5857424.Lynn_Cahoon
  • Twitter – https://twitter.com/LynnCahoon
  • Facebook -https://www.facebook.com/LynnCahoonAuthor
  • website – http://lynncahoon.com/
  • Amazon author page – http://www.amazon.com/Lynn-Cahoon/e/B0082PWOAO/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1
Stephanie Queen: Fun & Games
Monday, September 5th, 2016

smBeachHeat FBTeaser- NEW RELEASE

For Serious Readers: Let’s play a game…

Who Am I?

My hair’s a mess and I’m still in my robe at 4:30 in the afternoon. I have dark circles under my eyes and around my arm pits. I’m surrounded by a guilty mountain of discarded candy wrappers and a pill-inducing Mount Everest pile of … books.

smbooksThat’s right.

I’m a book-aholic.

Lest you think my affliction is limited to the luscious inky smell of the print version of the seductive species, you would be wrong.

I have two kindles, an iPad, an iPad mini and a Nook reader. I’m seriously considering buying a KOBO reader, but I would need to stop reading long enough to get my credit card, type in all that delivery information an order the thing.

That’s right.

It’s a serious affliction.

And I love it.

Books are like my air. I breathe to read—wait—no—that’s not right. I live to read and I read to breathe. No. That’s not right either…

Whatever.

You get the picture. It’s in a book.

That’s right.

I’m seriously crazy—about books.

The thing is—no one takes it seriously. I hide it.

If someone’s comes over, I’ll dress. Comb my hair. Hide my book in my blouse.

If I go out, I read on my phone. Pretend I’m texting. I wear a hat and a long coat with deep book-filled pockets. It gets hot in the summer, but whatever. I keep my secret.

No one knows I chain read.

That’s right.

I’m a chain-book-reader.

My basement is filled with old books and I built an addition to the garage out back to store more. I’m running out of GBs on my hard drive and I’ve taken to the cloud where I have a commercial storage package.

If Amazon had a VIP high roller club, I’d be a platinum member.

That’s right.

Amazon knows my name.

Who are you?

That’s right.

I want to know what book you’re reading.

Beachcomber Heat

smCover BeachcomberHeat NOVEL Book 4

This summer’s heat wave on Martha’s Vineyard is breaking records–and so is the crime wave. A rash of jewel thefts creates a demand for more security than the police can handle.
Shana insists that Beachcomber Investigations take a case to protect the Gable’s jewels because she’s desperate for the big fee from their rich client.
Dane will do almost anything to keep her happy–and to keep her with him on the island.
Almost anything.
But the case turns dangerous when a dead body turns up and they find their ruthless old enemies are behind the thefts. Dane has to decide how far he’ll go to catch the thieves–and how far he’ll go to keep his partnership with Shana.

Get your copy here!

About the Author

smSQ Closeup at NEAuthorExpo

Stephanie Queen loves to play games—don’t take her seriously. Unless you want to read her books. She writes the romantic detective series BEACHCOMBER INVESTIGATIONS. The stories include some humor—no kidding—and lots of sizzle and suspense. You can find out all about her and her books at StephanieQueen.com.

Cathy Perkins: Create Some Mayhem
Sunday, September 4th, 2016

Thanks for letting me visit with you, Delilah!  I write both dark, twisty mysteries and lighter, amateur sleuth stories. A shorter story with some heat sounded like a fun addition to the lineup. Alex Montoya is a secondary character in So About the Money, the first in the Holly Price/So About…series. Alex may have been a bit volatile in So About the Money. He simply needed the right woman to help him become the adult he’s capable of being. A bit of nagging from his character led me to write his story—MALBEC MAYHEM.

With all the fabulous wineries located in eastern Washington, choosing a rising star vintner to challenge him seemed a natural fit. Alex and Sofia understand the importance of family—including the joys and challenges associated with running a family business. They simply have to figure out a way to make their hot-blooded nature work for them.

cpFramed MM 250x375

Mix a Spanish chef with an Italian winemaker and create some mayhem—MALBEC MAYHEM.

Successful restaurateur Alex Montoya’s charmed life has hit a snag. His trusted business partner turned out to be not exactly trustworthy, and Alex could be facing jail time over some of his partner’s shady financial deals. As if that weren’t bad enough, creditors are calling in loans he didn’t know he had and he’s desperate to prove his innocence before all his businesses are repossessed.

After a career-building stint in Napa Valley, Sofia Pincelli has returned home to eastern Washington to take over the family’s winery. Running the family business, however, means dealing with her ailing father’s constant micro-management—and his disapproval of Alex. Her father’s condemnation of Alex’s rumored involvement in his business partner’s schemes runs so deep, it threatens Alex and Sofia’s blossoming romance…along with the Pincelli family’s signature red wine. Sofia needs Alex’s crop of Malbec grapes to show her father she has what it takes to make award-winning wine—and save the reputation and finances of the Pincelli winery.

When the Malbec grapes go missing, Alex and Sofia must join forces to find the fruit before it spoils—or risk destroying both of their businesses and their hearts.

Get your copy here!

EXCERPT

In this scene, the bank has threatened to call Alex’s restaurant loan. He’s reeling from that news when Sofia demands to know, Where are the Malbec grapes?

The argument ends with a twist:

Alex stalked to a file cabinet, jerked open the top drawer and grabbed a scrap of black lace. He threw the panties at her. “You might want these ‘delivered’ too. You left them here the other night.”

“Oh for God’s sake, be serious.” Sofia rolled her eyes and thrust her fingers into her hair.

“Why?” He tried to ignore the way her upraised arms pushed her chest forward. “You’re the one who wanted a ‘fun’ relationship.”

“I’m talking about business. Business is serious.”

“What? You like the sex, but not me?” The file cabinet drawer slammed with a satisfying whack. “What is it with you women?”

“It isn’t ‘us women’. It seems to me, it’s you. You have a problem with intelligent women.”

“Bullshit. I prefer intelligent women.”

For a long moment, she studied him. Then she plucked the panties off the floor and stepped toward him. A smile hovered around the corners of her mouth.

“What?” He narrowed his eyes, glaring, more to keep her on-guard than to warn her off. Usually he liked not knowing what she’d pull next, but she loved a challenge—and to win—as much as he did.

She also liked make-up sex as much as he did.

“Nice shirt.” She trailed a finger inside his collar and paused at the first button. “You should wear this color more often. It sets off those gorgeous brown eyes of yours.”

She worked open the button. “Your olive skin…”

Desire rippled down his spine. “Thanks.” He eyed the open door behind them. Not that he cared who walked in.

She leaned closer. Her full breasts brushed his chest. Warm breath tickled his ear and sent a message straight to his groin. A cool scrap of fabric slid into his palm and her fingers closed his around the silk. “You might want to keep these.”

“Oh?” He managed to keep his tone merely interested while heat flamed through his body. If she kept this up, he could sweep all the papers off his desk. Or there were the chairs. The floor. Up against the wall…

“You keep up that crappy attitude though.”

His brain recalibrated. Problem, problem…

Soft lips brushed a series of kisses against his jaw. “And it’ll be a while before you see a new pair.”

That zinger delivered, she pivoted on her heel, and strolled out.

About the Author

cpPerkins casual headshotCathy Perkins started writing when recurring characters and dialogue populated her day job commuting daydreams. Fortunately, that first novel lives under the bed, but she was hooked on the joy of creating stories. When not writing, she can be found doing battle with the beavers over the pond height or setting off on another travel adventure. Born and raised in South Carolina, she now lives in Washington with her husband, children, several dogs and the resident deer herd.

You can also visit her online at the following places

Amazon – Malbec Mayhem at Amazon
Goodreads –  https://www.goodreads.com/Cathy_Perkins
Twitter – https://twitter.com/cperkinswrites
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/AuthorCathyPerkins
website – http://cperkinswrites.com
Amazon author page – http://www.amazon.com/Cathy-Perkins



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