My family will tell you I have none, and at times I’m sure
they’re right. I like to have things defined for me, with limits and a
timetable. I even (gasp!) read the last chapter of a book first to make sure I’ll
be satisfied with the ending. Yup, I’m too impatient to read the whole book
first.
We all wait for things in
our live. We wait for our children to grow up and turn (hopefully) into adults.
We wait for progress at work. We wait for our goals to be reached. Certainly
writing can try one’s patience, as the author waits for release, waits for
reviews, waits to see if anyone will for heaven’s sake by the damn book.
Writing erotic romance demands
a lot of patience, something I’ve had to learn. Why? Because you can’t rush
good sex. That’s just a fact. To be satisfying and rewarding there must be
exquisite and tempting foreplay, long and slow arousal, and even the final
culmination of the act should not be rushed. So when I weave the scenes of
really good sex I have to force myself to take it slow and not hurry past
something really good.
When I wrote Quarterback Sneak I gave my hero a lot
more patience than I ever had. He has been in love with his next door neighbor
for three years but all she wants is friendship. He watches her hook up with
one loser after another, dismayed by her poor choices in men and the lack of
opportunity to let her know how he feels. But Valentine’s Day is coming, she
needs a hot sexy guy to get her through it, especially at the big corporate party,
and he finally sees his opportunity.
He puts together a game
plan, just as he does on the football field, only here he’s the only play
caller. I tell you, Max has a lot more patience than I ever did as he puts his
plan in motion and…Well, see for yourself.
Here’s a little taste for
you, the kickoff of The Big Plan.
Oh, and one more word. Patience pays off. Quarterback Sneak just hit the best seller list at All Romance eBooks.
“Knock
knock.”
Kurt
lounged in her doorway, jacketless, sleeves rolled up, a big grin on his face.
Butterflies danced a jitterbug in her stomach as she remembered the last time
they’d been naked together.
“Rumor
has it you’re the new queen of chocolates.” He chuckled.
She
saved her document and turned to face him. “And they are delicious.”
“I’m
sorry I didn’t think of sending them myself.” His gaze raked over her as if his
eyes were undressing her. “New outfit? I like it. Very sexy.”
Oh, my God. Men are so predictable. Max
called it. How interesting what a flirty outfit and a mysterious admirer could
do to a situation. If she’d shown up in her usual slacks and sweater, without
the secret admirer, would he even have known she came to work?
“Thanks.”
She gestured at the box. “Have some candy, why don’t you?”
“Won’t
your ‘secret admirer’ object to you giving them to another guy?” He used his
fingers to gesture air quotes.
“Why?”
She deliberately plucked a chocolate from where it nestled in the box and
popped it into her mouth. “Is there some reason he should be jealous?”
Kurt
unkinked himself from the doorjamb and ambled over to her desk. “There might
be. Who is this guy, anyway? How come no one has ever met him? And where was he
when you and I were doing the horizontal tango?”
“He
was there all the time,” a
deep voice boomed from behind him.
Kurt’s
head whipped around.
Max
appeared behind Kurt, a fake smile plastered on his face although a touch of
anger flashed in his eyes. “Stacy and I had a little misunderstanding. No
biggie. It’s all patched up now. Anyway, she won’t be doing the tango with
anyone else anymore. Her dance card is filled.”
Deedee
stood in the doorway, eyes wide, face flushed with excitement. “Sorry, Stacy.
He said you were expecting him and just breezed on past me.”
“No
problem. He’s right. Go on back to your desk.”
Deedee was
a statue in the doorway, eying Max like he was a piece of candy in that box.
“Go
on, Deedee,” Stacy repeated.
Kurt
narrowed his eyes. “Wait, you’re Max Sullivan, right?”
Max
put on his professional smile—the one he used when local news interviewed him
after a triumph on the field.
“Yes.
And you would be?”
“Kurt
Macallister.” He reached out a hand. “I never miss a Warriors game. ESPN is
still replaying that video of the Hail Mary pass you threw in the game against
the Patriots.”
“Yeah,
my fifteen minutes of fame,” he joked.
Stacy
watched the two men in her tiny office space and smiled to herself. She could
almost hear Kurt’s brain burning as he tried to figure out what she was doing
with Max Sullivan. Max, on the other hand, behaved pleasant but aloof and
looked as if he wished Kurt would get out of there already.
Winking
at Stacy, he walked around the other man, lifted her from her chair, and pulled
her in tight to his chest. Then, without further warning, he brought his lips down
on hers in a kiss that curled her toes and sent moisture flooding her panties.
His body was hard against hers. All of
him was hard including his rock-hard penis imprinting itself on her flesh
through her flirty little skirt.
If he
gave a performance, it was a damn good one. So good her wits scattered like
leaves in a breeze.
“Well.”
Vaguely, Stacy heard someone clearing his throat. “Apparently this isn’t a good
time to chat with you.”
She
opened her eyes and glanced over Max’s shoulder. Kurt still stood in front of
her desk, hands in his pockets, irritation and maybe jealousy lining his face.
Max
lifted his mouth from hers. “Yeah, that’s right. Stacy’s leaving for lunch and
won’t be back for a while.” He turned his face to Stacy, still holding her
close to him. “You ready, sugar?”
Stacy’s
mind spun. She barely heard whatever comeback Kurt made, too busy staring at
Max through lust-clouded eyes. Lordy, the man was gorgeous. Clad in black
slacks and a black V-neck sweater, with a smidgen of sexy chest hair peeking
over the ribbing, his outfit practically matched his hair, and the blue in his
eyes appeared deeper than ever. He topped it all with an elegant camel colored
sport jacket and a smile that came straight from the devil himself.
“Get
your purse, Stacy,” he told her. “Time to go.”
“Um,”
was all she could manage.
Max
took a step back, his sensuous mouth crooked up in a smile. Sensuous mouth?
When had she put those two words and Max together?
“Stacy?
You ready, sweetheart?” His warm voice wrapped itself around her like an erotic
blanket.
“Uh,
yes. Let me get my purse.”
Pulling
her scrambled brains together, she managed to retrieve her bag from her desk
drawer without dropping it.
“She
may be late getting back,” he told a dumbfounded Deedee as they sailed into the
hallway.
I don't know that this really shows us his patience, Desiree - he seems pretty eager to me! But it's hot, anyway.
ReplyDeleteAnd congratulations on making the ARE best seller list! Whooee!
Seconding the congrats on the ARe bestseller list! :)
ReplyDeleteAlso, for many years, whenever I picked up a book, the first thing I did was read the last few paragraphs. Not only did it give me a sense of whether I liked the writing (better than reading the first few, often) but I enjoyed building towards them, picking up the clues along the way, knowing where the story led. I broke myself of the habit because it made me feel guilty, but now I'm sort of wishing I hadn't. What made me think there's a wrong way to read a book?
"Scrambled brains," clever phrase. Thanks for posting, Desiree.
ReplyDelete