Welcome to my stop on the Rites of Spring Blog Hop!
I'm soooooooo done with winter! Yeah, I know. Surprising sentiment from the author of FROST and BLIZZARD. But really, look at the painting below (no, it was not painted by the hot and sexy Maxwell Raines, the sex-demon artist hero of FROST) and tell me you're not ready for springtime fun in the sun.
|Nicolai Roerich design of stage backdrop for Stravinsky’s“Le Sacre du Printemp"|
I thought we'd do our Rites of Spring first with Jack and Mandy, hero and heroine of BLIZZARD, my short and sexy story for Decadent Publishing's The Edge erotica line. They've had any number of hot firsts in their time, the sizzling snowstorm road tryst being just one of those. (They like the road.)
Mandy: [sighs] But you know, I've got some really fond memories of that rest stop parking lot. Yeah, fond. That's a nice safe PG word.
Jack: Mandy's kind of a risk-taker. Drives me nuts. Also makes me hot as hell.
Mandy: Look who's talking, FEMA man.
Jack: You say that like I'm an old fuddy-duddy.
Mandy: Baby, I say that because you see so much death and destruction all the time. I like to, um, shake you up and entertain you when you're not on the job.
Jack: Never a dull moment.
Mandy: Yeah, well, it's not like it's me in a harness, dangling from a helicopter to pluck flood survivors off the roof of a building. When that's not even part of your job. But I love how you're always...ready. And always...prepared.
Jack: Like the first time on that golf course?
Mandy: Oh, yeah. Just like that. [Blushes.] Now that was an awesomesauce first.
Jack: You, me, sneaking onto the course, naked on the fresh-mown grass. Spring in the air.A couple of cold ones. Cars whizzing by outside the country club gates. Hearing us, maybe. Not quite able to see us.
Mandy: Gah. I'm hot all over just thinking about that.
Jack: Yeah, I know. I love our road trysts. And love how you squirm in your seat whenever we pass a rest stop or a golf course now. [Winks.] Time to hit the road baby. Think this is where we make our exit.
Want more of Jack and Mandy? Catch them in BLIZZARD.
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Mandy Malone ditches her pharmaceutical convention and the married male colleagues hitting on her to hurry home to her waiting family. But she doesn’t bank on the blizzard that forces her off the road and into a deserted rest stop. When she meets another road refugee, their attraction is immediate and molten hot. Suddenly, getting stranded doesn’t seem like such bad luck after all.
Although totally unprepared for Mandy’s unvarnished proposition, Jack is intrigued by the erotic offer of a promising night of no-questions-asked sex. But when he notices the wedding band on Mandy’s finger, will he forego the lure of a torrid clandestine affair, or give in to the fantasy of blazing hot sex on a wintry night?
She rooted around in her handbag again, on the off chance she’d missed something useful to her current situation.
“Is this what you’re looking for, lady?”
Mandy glanced up, startled by the deep, rumbling baritone that echoed loudly in the fairly quiet building. And even more startled by the tall, gorgeous hunk of manhood bundled into a down parka standing next to her table.
I could totally jump him. Right here. Right now.
From nowhere, steamy erotic images of what she wanted to do with the man leaped unbidden into her head. She’d never felt such instant attraction to anyone, such a frantic desire. Maybe it was a reaction to her frightening experience on the Thruway. Or maybe something else created the overpowering chemistry.
Besides being the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on, he held out a battery-operated pocket charger. A sigh escaped her as he stared down at her.
“It’s not the only thing I’m looking for.” Her voice, husky and sultry, and laden with blatant sexual innuendo, shocked her. Where had those words come from? Nearly alone with him in the deserted rest stop…and still she felt…safe.
“Yeah?” The man removed his parka, revealing a plaid flannel shirt, the triangle of a white, cold-weather T-shirt peeping from the open neckline. When he raised his arms, thick bands of muscle rippled across his chest, beneath the layers of fabric. He riveted her with brilliant azure eyes, bluer than a lake under the summer’s sun. His hair, which curled a bit boyishly at his temples, resembled a wet beach, light, dirty brown, with shimmering bronze threads straggling through the locks. But this was no boy. No, indeed.
God. Gorgeous did not even begin to cover it. The longer he looked at her, the hotter she became. So hot she suddenly felt she’d do anything, dare anything with this man.
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