Hi Destiny!
Thank you for having me over to visit today. One of the things I enjoy hearing and reading from other authors is how their stories evolved. Was it a particular event they saw, a comment they heard, a dream they had or something else that brought their story to fruition.
Some of you know I used to be a police dispatcher and one of the things that is reinforced in that job is that there are two sides to every story – and sometimes more. Just because you have been told something doesn’t make it true. And that goes for no matter how many times you have heard it. My premise for Devil’s Details came from the concept that just because someone said something is true, doesn’t mean it really is. Now I’m not going to say what particular statement or theory I and a lot of other people grew up with led to Devil’s Details and Luke’s story – it would give away too much of the plot. Suffice to say, there are indeed two sides to every story and sometimes it takes generations, even centuries, for the other side—or the truth—to come out.
So to be entered into a contest for a copy of Devil’s Details, leave a comment about something you discovered there was another side to the story. One of my kitties, Mel, loves to pick contest winners so at the end of the day tomorrow I’ll write out the commenters’ names (he doesn’t have an opposable thumb so writing is not his thing) and he will pick the winner.
Devil’s Details
“I have arrived! Oh yeah, I have totally arrived!” Courtney Miller sang to herself. “This is it, it, itttttttttttttttttttt!”
The contract from publisher Bubbly Bordeaux for her first book in hand, her dreams of being a multi-published author were finally coming true.
Oh sure, for now she had to keep working her day job at Card, Jayson & King. That however was a non-issue because the firm provided a wealth of juicy stories to keep her in writer heaven for years to come. With its political connections and never ending high end insurance defense and fraud cases, just about every day gave her a new story line.
And that was only considering her co-workers. Add in the clients and their tales of how they would never commit the crimes alluded to in some of the cases or lobbying screw-ups, she was looking at books into the next millennium. She’d debated a book about the firm’s latest crime solving excitement with the arrest of a top lobbyist accused of bribing the Supreme Court on behalf of a well-known government official and decided she’d take a wait and see approach on that one. Still, it had everything—sex, money, multiple crimes against the state, enough to make it a series.
Courtney smiled to herself. Oh yes, after Rainy Day Lover was released, her job would keep her in story lines for years to come. And she definitely had the time to write since her company worked ten hour days four days a week. While not the norm, it did allow the firm to be open seven days a week, including holidays. That’s what the clients wanted so that’s what they got.
Now, on the first of her three days off this weekend and committed to her goal, here she sat in her local coffee shop, quadruple non-fat latte in hand, ready to download that first set of edits.
As she waited for her laptop to boot up she glanced around the quaint shop. Even though it was part of one of the big chains the local shop catered to the old-fashioned atmosphere of their city in its design. Booths with high-backed, plushly cushioned seats afforded a semblance of privacy. The tables were sturdy, dark wood, their grain left on the rough side but no risk of splinters. Faux candles lit each table in rustic looking hurricane holders.
Not wanting any one to know about her attempt to write a book, she’d written it in the quiet privacy of her apartment. Now that she was a real author, after all she did have a contract from a fairly well known publisher, it was time to be out there like the big names and writing in public.
A stirring movement near the register caught her attention. From over the top of her computer she spotted a gaggle of women, young, middle aged and even a grandmother, whispering about someone or something. When the crowd parted she got quite the eyeful.
And what an eyeful he was.
About six foot five inches of dark brown haired, blue eyed hunk stood at the register, scanning the room. His chest easily out-distanced those on the male cover models that graced her favorite romance novels. Even Morgan Knight, the model now appearing on the Love Cups books had nothing on this hunk-o-licious guy.
This guy—well—there wasn’t a one who had anything on him. The boy was a major panty splat and lip smacker all rolled into one. Damn, wouldn’t she like to take him home and engage in some major skin to skin research for her next book.
And oh my god, was he staring at her?
Of course he was. She was staring at him. Her gaze probably bore so deep into him he felt under fire. No wonder he looked back at her.
And not just looking back. Oh no, he looked like he intended to eat her for dinner.
Actually, make that breakfast, lunch, dinner and a creamy dessert to boot. Oh he was hot and then some and the look on his face let her know he was looking for a main dish.
Suits me just fine.
He took a step in her direction.
Oh no. He’s just heading for an empty booth or seat or something like that in this direction. Couldn’t possibly be me.
She crossed her legs and the newly born writer part of her mind said she needed to remember the feelings surging through her special girl parts so she could capture those sensations in her next book.
And wouldn’t he make a great hero?
There’s no time like the present. She brought up a clean page and began to type when only a moment later a shadow passed over her screen.
“Would you mind if I sat here?”
Courtney looked up into the most amazing shade of blue-green eyes she’d ever seen. They were an interesting mix of turquoise and azure blue and the honey brown of his hair, long and thick, caressed his oh so broad shoulders, stopping below the blades. His t-shirt in pretty much the same shade as his eyes caressed his chest in a way Courtney wouldn’t mind spreading herself against him.
Unable to help herself she glanced at his waist, taking note of the button down fly on his snug fitting jeans. Her pussy clenched. My oh my.
“What?” She’s licked her lower lip before realizing she was about to mentally devour this man who only wanted to…what did he say?
“A seat. All the others are taken. Do you mind if I sit here? I promise not to bother you.”
Bother her? She was already well beyond hot and bothered. Well, not exactly bothered but he had her hot and all he’d done was walk into the coffee shop and say maybe ten words to her. She’d roast in hell for the lascivious thoughts she was having about this poor man who probably had women undressing him, at least in their minds, on a regular basis.
And what was she thinking? She was a legal secretary. A professional! They defended people who’d been arrested. Misguided bozos who behaved in some of the naughty ways she’d like to be doing with this gorgeous male specimen. For starters, chaining him to a wall in her bedroom with just enough room to move into the next sexual position.
Oh yeah, he was definitely material for her next book, which wasn’t going to be anything near the sweet romance Bubbling Bordeaux contracted with her. Oh no, that one was going to be a major erotica where the guy looked exactly like Mr. Tall-dark-and-Delicious and the heroine looked like her. Well why not star in her own romance novel? It wasn’t like some of those luscious things would happen in real life. So why not in—
“Sorry.” His voice made her tingle from her ears right down to that sweet damp spot…
“Didn’t mean to take you away from your…”
“Oh sorry, no. Please. Feel free to tie me up…I mean, you aren’t tying…that is, please sit.” If she turned half as red as the flames in her face felt, Mr. Come-into-my pants and stay awhile probably thought she was either a total idiot, hadn’t had any in awhile, or he’d just met up with his worst nightmare.
“And here I thought if there was any woman who would want to tie me up, it would be you.” His voice was pure honey and sent delicious tremors down her spine and into that suddenly needy sweet spot between her legs.
Mr. Hunk-o-licious asked again, “Are you sure I’m not bothering you? I just want to sit and enjoy my coffee and all the other seats are taken. I promise not to disturb you.”
Oh man, his voice was definitely the stuff of dreams—wet and wild dreams. The kind where a girl needed her battery buddy when she woke up alone type dreams. “Please, disturb away, I mean. Why don’t I just shut up?”
“Because what you have to say sounds so delightful.”
“Delightful? I just made a royal ass of myself.”
He shook his head, his long auburn hair flowing around his shoulders like liquid chocolate.
Man did she want to run her fingers through it, take a hold and bring his lips in for a kiss…what on earth was she thinking? Courtney Miller, legal secretary extraordinaire, did not have thoughts like this. She shrugged, maybe Desiree Desire, her alter ego and soon to be hot erotic romance writer did. That would make sense.
Of course, that made total sense! These were her alter ego’s thoughts. Some of the authors in the local romance writing group talked about that. How their alter egos, their pen names, could take on lives of their own. So there was good girl Courtney who worked for Card, Jayson & King and then there was naughty Des who engaged is some amazing sex with hunky guys who just wanted to drink their coffee.
“No, you aren’t making an ass of yourself. I think more like I disturbed you from whatever you’re working on. For that I apologize. I didn’t think before I approached you. Well, I did think,” he purred, “from your friendly smile while I was at the register that you wouldn’t mind if I joined you. Just to drink my coffee and for you to continue with whatever you were doing.”
“Wow, a guy who knows how to fill in a pair of jeans and say just the right thing and I so didn’t say anything about how you fill in your jeans.” She put her head in her hand and wished there was a way she could slide under the table and after a quick stop between Mr. Amazing Jeans’ legs for a snack—oh gees, she didn’t just think that either.
“If it makes you feel better, I’ll not only pretend I didn’t hear you say that as well as pretend I didn’t think you fill out your sweater just as nicely.”
Anyone in their right mind would have taken offense, or tried to, or thought about it. The way he said it though, it sounded like the greatest compliment a man could give a women.
“Water under the bridge. Please, have a seat and enjoy your coffee before it gets cold. They’ll give you a refill, in case you’re new in here, I mean. I mean that if you’re new in town and you haven’t been in here before you wouldn’t know that they’ll give you a refill. Not that they only do it when you’re new.”
“That’s good to know.” In one fluid motion he slid into the seat and took a long swallow of his coffee.
Courtney swallowed the same moment he did. For someone who didn’t believe in love at first sight, she was falling awful fast for this guy.
Okay, lust at first sight.
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1 comment:
What a great excerpt, Regan! Love how you tied your police dispatch experience in with your book. As a mom, I'd have to say kid arguments are where I have to pause and remind myself there are two sides to every story. The screaming child isn't always the victim. LOL!
Great post, Regan and Destiny. :)
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