Tag Archives: interracial

NEW RELEASE – Silver Bells and Straps by Nevea Lane


Silver Bells and Straps by Nevea Lane CLICK TO BUY!

Yes, I did it. My first light BDSM tale.   I fear I haven’t been completely honest with you all.  I like kink. I’m not sure if that was a confession or just a ‘just so you know’ announcement.   Shara Azod LLC knows a little something about kink.  I’m pleased to throw my name into their marvelous Whipped Dreams line.    For those of you who know the imprints works, you know that Whipped Dreams center around BDSM or D/s story lines.   I took it one step further.  This time, the heroine is the Domme.

Below is the blurb and a spicy little excerpt to get you wondering.  Click the link, buy the tale, and warm up your holiday season with a bit a sugar, spice and and a whole lot of kink.

BLURB

Athena Divan had it good; her own company, a premium New York apartment and a secret.   Gerard Bourdain was much the same; his own company, a premium New York apartment, a restless spirit and a secret.  These two had butted heads in the board room, but they were about to find they had a lot more in common when their secrets collide at the Black Tie bondage club.

The only thing is, Athena was Mistress Minerva. She knew who he was, but Gerard was in the dark about her secret identity.   Would she take the opportunity to have a bit of revenge at Gerard’s expense?  Of course.  Yet, could she keep herself in check and not step over the line and jeopardize her identity?
*EXCERPT*

As he stood on the other side of the door, he took a deep breath. This
mistress was supposed to be the best, as the owner kept telling him. A second generation dominatrix. He’d never heard of such a thing. Pushing the heavy
door open, he stepped into the room.
His stomach immediately tightened when his eyes focused on the woman
perched on the throne. She looked like a deity, her shoulders back and her long
legs crossed in a striking pose. Her mouth was pursed, and her burgundy
lipstick looked like a fine wine staining her lips. The black masquerade mask
did little to hide her features. Her high cheekbones stood out in the dim
lighting, but her eyes were the most striking almond color he’d ever seen.
He swallowed hard. She raised her arm and, in a regal movement, turned
her palm upward and curled her fingers forward, beckoning him to her. He
dropped his head and took slow steps toward her. He stopped a mere foot away
from his appointed mistress. For the first time, he was intimidated by a woman.
His mother didn’t intimidate him, and she threw her weight around better than
any man he’d met.
“Well, well, well,” his mistress said in a husky, breathless tone. She
uncrossed her legs and stood. Her heels didn’t make a sound as she walked
toward him across the carpeted floor.
Without pausing, she began to walk around him, looking him up and
down. He didn’t dare move his head to follow her movements, knowing that
would bring him punishment. The leather of her glove felt cool as she laid the
palm of her hand against the small of his back. The simple touch made his cock
stir.
“Mmmm. There is nothing I like more than fresh meat.” She smacked his
ass with an echoing slap that stung his flesh even through the leather pants.
Her palm cupped his ass in a soothing motion, and she began to rub his
stinging cheek as if to soothe the sting. The smell of her hung in the air, and it
was all he could think about as he tried to force himself to breathe in through
his nose and out through his mouth.
“What is your name, slave?”

*End Excerpt* 

Well there you have it, what do you think?

 

So Amusing – Midnight Muse by R.W. Shannon (A Review)


Going on a trip to Greece never seemed so appealing until now!  In Midnight Muse, R.W. Shannon gets you wrapped up in a tale of how a terrible first meeting can turn into something more.

Grace Bower was on a working vacation to the beautiful Greece isle of Rhodes.  She rented a cottage from whom she thought would be a short and balding man.  The man who opened the door was a one-eighty from what she assumed.

No, the man who opened the door was a six-foot three, blue-eyed mix of Greek and Italian.  Can you say delicious?  (If you can’t I sure can). Oh, you didn’t say it yet? Get this, his name is Evander Vicenti.  Now, can you say double delicious?  With a name like that, how could this man be anything but FinE with a capital F and E.   Yep, F’in’E… he’s hot and can speak four languages.  I so want one of these!

After getting off on the wrong foot, these two must battle past their differences to even be in the same room with each other.

R.W. spins such a delightful tale.  The  little nuances that are so real life with such things like: Grace says ”So what’s my ringtone” and a scene about talking on the phone while going to the bathroom, you have to read this book for a good laugh, a nice sigh and not to mention hot and heavy making love sessions that will leave your glasses steamed. And well, I almost teared up a little and I’m not telling why but a hint: it was a photo (I’m a sap).

Get this book, seriously, go now…why are you still here? Click the book below to go and get it.  Off you go!

Midnight Muse by R.W. Shannon

How Do you Talk to an Angel? – A Book Review of Hell’s Angels by R.W. Shannon


How can a demon fall in love with an angel?  Better yet, how can an angel fall in love with a demon?   Talk about an against all odds type of love, right?!  Somehow the talented R.W. takes us on that journey…  It makes us ask, what would you do for love?   I don’t want to give away too much of the book, but let me say this… R.W. can make a fight scene into the sexiest most erotic scenes.  Imagine yourself battling against the man you love, engaged in a hot and heavy sword fight, and the next thing you know you are kissing him?

Yes , that right there ladies and gentlemen are the things that naughty fantasies are made of.  Go pick up a copy and raise a little hell in your life.

Click on the book to purchase.

New eBook Available – Black Licorice Forever by Nevea Lane




All New Flavors!!!
Black Licorice Forever

Black Licorice Forever by Nevea Lane

Black Licorice Forever by Nevea Lane
Vanessa  Delray knew her herbs.  She knew what to do with them, how to work them and how to get the best out of them.  So when a tall dark brooding yet handsome man walks into her herbary, she knew he wanted something particular.  He certainly wasn’t like her usual patrons who thought they were witches and warlocks.  So what could he possibly need?
Gabriel Salvi wasn’t a witch or warlock: just immortal. Cursed because of his father’s transgressions, Gabriel was forced to live a life without love or anyone to call his own.  His last hope of breaking the curse was an ancient aphrodisiac using the pungent licorice root.  Living in a secluded cabin, Gabriel stumbled across Del Ray’s Herbal Haven and it’s owner, Vanessa Delray.

Gabriel wanted the licorice root to finally find his love. Little does he know Vanessa may be the only little bit of black licorice that he needs.
Gabriel wanted the licorice root to finally find his love.   Little does he know, Vanessa may be the only little bit of black licorice that he needs.
 


My Work, Private Dancer – Packaged Pretty and Ready to Go


Time for a treat, just for you all who have supported me, goaded me, cheered me on, or even laughed at me…

I have packaged/PDF’d my free read ”Private Dancer” into a nice little package for you.   Now you can read at your leisure, no more flipping between pages and all  that mess…

So where can you find it?   It is available for download here (Did I mention it was FREE?)——>

http://stores.lulu.com/nevealane

Sometimes I Wonder…


You know, sometimes I wonder at what started me with writing.  I realize that it could be sheer boredom that makes me position my fingers over the keys to type out a manuscript.  It could be because I have all these funny characters running through my head that are like, homeless. *smile* These characters come barreling into my life and demand that I give them attention.

So I wonder, if I didn’t write, would I be considered crazy because I have characters talking to me in my head.  If I didn’t write, I wouldn’t have a place to put all the sassiness that I have into one person.   I believe that my characters have the ability to say the things that I ‘should’ have said in response to some remark or another.  

I also wonder what people think about my characters.  I know that sometimes being an author of romance, especially erotic interracial romance, it can be a thankless job.  I know that sometimes we can always forget that hey, there are people out there reading your words and your thoughts and they have an opinion too.   Which is why I am glad that the internet has progressed the way that it has.  I am glad that there are now Author Groups where you can sit and gab about your favorite authors and even maybe chat it up with the author if you choose.  I am glad there is a Twitter to follow your favorite authors even if they only tweet a *sigh* every six months.  (They are human beings and they do have a life, and do not merely exist to satisfy our word-cravings, even though we wish they did). 

I also sometimes try to figure out if I weren’t writing, what would I be doing with all my free time?  I would be watching t.v. shows and thinking that I could write a better plot line.  So even if I wasn’t writing, I would be thinking about writing. 

There are other times when I sit down to write, and the plot doesn’t hit me.   I have about sixteen WIP’s on my flash drive where I didn’t get further than a conversation.  The conversation is good, and I refuse to let it die, but what do I do with one good dialog?   So there they sit.

Sometimes the hardest thing to do as a writer is to let the book evolve on its own.  I’m so thankful to eBooks because it allows me the freedom to write something that is either 3,ooo words or 9,000 words and not feel as though I didn’t tell all of the character’s story.  I love the flexibility that being e-pubed allows. 

I’m thankful that we live in a day in age where books, news, gossip and music are so easily accessible.  If it weren’t for eBooks, I would have never discovered the world of multi-cultural/interracial story weavers.  

So those are my musings…which normally come after I have submitted a manuscript.  I bet you are wondering what the next book is…stay tuned and find out… :)

Free Read Quickie – Behind the Masks (Rated M for Mature)


Ok, ok, I know, I know… I have been gone for a good minute and that is not a good thing…I have so many ideas going on in my head that I have been unable to keep up with everything.   So, just to keep all of you thinking about me, and wondering what my crazy mind will come up with next, I give to you, Behind the Masks, a quickie…

 

 

Behind the Masks

BING! Citygirl6: What’s up? How was your Halloween party last night?

            Presskitten:  Girl, you don’t want to know what happened. You might not want to be my                                        friend.

I looked at the instant messenger on my laptop.  Nicole had been my friend for fifteen years, and even this was too raunchy of a tale for me to tell her.   I groaned at the thought of having to tell her what I did.  I don’t feel bad for what I did, but she won’t understand.   I know she wanted the details and the dish.  But I had been biting my nails for the past hour trying to avoid her.  How do I tell her I did the one thing that I swore I would never do?  I should probably tell you what is going on, so you aren’t in the dark.  Just don’t judge me.

It started with a simple online chat conversation.  When I wasn’t trying to become the ‘world’s greatest journalist’, I spend my weekends at home, buying shoes online and occasionally chatting to a person or two.  Around six months ago, I begin chatting with this guy named  scenic eyes.  The name either implied that he enjoyed looking at life, or that he was attached to someone but his eyes put more moves on a passing chick than a dance crew.  Alas, curiosity got the better of me, and I began to chat with the man.  From the first message, the font was a hunter green color whereas everyone else’s was black, he had me intrigued.  He was speaking about people watching and how you can tell different types of sexual appetites from watching people.  I was right about the wandering eye, but maybe her wasn’t a pervert, at least the way he explained himself he didn’t seem like one.   I had to ask him what he did for a living and he was a photographer.  He was right up my alley.  I being a journalist, and had met many photographers, but none were as eloquent as he was.   I started a conversation with scenic eyes and it had been a rollercoaster ever since. 

The big red PING on my laptop sounded, snapping me out of my memory.   

            Citygirl6: What happened Ty?

            Presskitten: Nothing, it was a good party… I ended up seeing the online dude I was telling                          you about.

I admit, I was one of those pessimists.  Online dating meant stalkers, nasty looking old men and cheaters. I wasn’t that hard up.  At least, I didn’t think I was that hard up.  I quickly realized that I had a lot to learn. While I am at it, I can also admit that I did not start this for a date.  I needed to get laid.  It had been three years and some months, and I realized that I was not saving it for anything special. I had been so focused on becoming a journalist for a new magazine, that I totally forgot that I needed a life, maybe a boyfriend or at least a penis in a glass case, you know, “break in case of emergency?” I had nothing, well besides a vibrating friend I like to call ‘Dick’. 

            Citygirl6: He was at the party?

            Presskitten: yeah, I invited him.

            Citygirl6: YOU DID WHAT? WHY?

            Presskitten:  it had been six months of chatting girl.  It was time to see what was up.

I was sitting at the Halloween party, please, spare me the groans of corniness. I waited patiently to see who my masked man was.  I was dressed as Catwoman.  Although I could not pass for Halle Berry, I was too tall, I must say, I was working the suit.  They were some pieces of my flesh that were showing, my neckline and the small of my back. They were baby oiled and looked kissable.  I was ready to meet the one person that took all of my inner sexual thoughts with a grain of salt. 

            Citygirl6: Well did he look good?

            Presskitten: Cute, he was real cute.

I was not about to tell her he was fine.  I love my friend, but she can be a fiend when it comes to good-looking men.  Knowing that she has a thing for white guys, I was better off leaving the remark at cute.   I did not have a preference for dating, men are like Baskin Robins, full of 31 flavors,, but I must admit, I had never dated, or had sex with a white man before.  All I know was that he was going to be Zorro and the Zorro with the wicked green eyes.  His words, not mine.  

I stood in the corner, and for the first time in my 29 years, felt lucky to stand five foot ten. I was standing taller than that in the four-inch stilettos I managed to walk in.  I loved the heels because they added a sway to my walking that isn’t there in my typical tennis shoes I wear to work.   It helped to scour the room looking for my masked date.  

I can say that I dressed for the kill because this man-made me want him.  I knew I wanted him before I went to the party.  I had hoped that he wasn’t ugly.  I was worked up and, yes, alright, horny.

What I couldn’t explain to my friend, was that this guy had my attention.  He had caught my attention from the first moment he entered the chat room.  Scenic_eyes was a name that you just couldn’t forget.  After we chatted in the public chat room for a while, he asked me for my email address so we could continue our conversation.  I figured why not, email addresses are a dime a dozen, I could get a new one if he turned out to be a stalker. I gave it to him and he emailed me first with the subject line saying, “Three Wishes”.    In his email, he described himself first and then asked me the three things I want out of life.  What would be my three wishes?   I had responded to him honestly, telling him that my crush on the photographer at my job had gotten out of control, and that is when I realized that I needed to get out of the office more.   So my three wishes were distraction, inhibition and vacation.  

He had responded and said that he could give me all three of my wishes through email.  He wooed me and wowed me with his bedtime stories.  First, he emailed me and explained how he would tuck me in at night.  And there was no sex in the email at all.  That was a shock.   It was about making sure that I was comfortable.  When all I could email back was wow, he came back with Wish 1 for distraction granted.   Our conversations continued and I had to say that he managed to grant all of my wishes.  Which was why I invited him to the party in the first place. 

We had exchanged emails for months, and Halloween had been the perfect time to finally hook up.  I was not looking for a date, I told him that up front, I was just severely missing male companionship.  We had exchanged emails, a few racy bedtime stories, and instant messaged each other a few times.  But no pictures.  We did not want the off chance of spotting each other on the street and making the situation awkward.   

I had taken the day off just to get ready for the event, and I can admit, it was more nerves that anything.  I have never been a pursuer, and I surely don’t consider myself to be a seductress, but my mystery man had made me feel comfortable from the start.   As I stood there, I felt myself get warm thinking about some of the last few emails we shared.  He told me that the need to see me was unbearable at this point.  I told him that I would be going to a Halloween party given by a co-worker.   It would be in a sports bar, so it should be pretty inconspicuous, if he just so happened to drop by.    

So I sat, waiting for him to show up and watching the door like a maniac stalker when I felt a leather glove brush against my exposed lower back.  What the hell?  I turned around and there he was, my Zorro, with the most amazing green eyes.   They were the color of wet emeralds, and they were watching me in amusement.   I smiled a half smile and he winked at me.   My Zorro put his gloved index finger to his lips and walked to the front door.  

            Citygirl6: So what happened?

            Presskitten: Everything.

            Citygirl6: What do you mean everything?  What is everything?

            Presskitten: How much time  do you got and you may need some tissue and perhaps your buzzing boyfriend later…

            Citygirl6: No Way!

            Presskitten:  Just listen to the rest of the story…

In pursuit, I was not prepared for the blast of October air that hit me.   Neither were my nipples.  They hardened tightly against the patent leather costume and almost made me groan out loud.  Yet, I had no time to be uncomfortable.  My mystery man was around the corner in the alley.

Yeah, yeah, I know what you are thinking, Ewwww… right?  Don’t knock it until you try it! All bitchiness aside, I grew up in this neighborhood, I was in Minnesota, and there was no trouble, I could take care of myself. 

But I soon saw him standing at the far end of the alley, near a pile of crates and a dumpster.  As I walked toward him casually, there was a motorcycle parked against the brick wall.  As I walked up to him, I knew that this Zorro was all mine tonight.

“What, no white horse?” I said when I finally stood face to face with him.  

He chuckled and gave me the same smile he gave when we were inside.  It was funny, in email, he was so forward and so direct.  Yet, he had not said one word since meeting in person.

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards him.  His gaze was enchanting.  Yes, it does sound so melodramatic, but in my shoes, if you saw the way his eyes were colliding with the crude alley lamp and the hungry glare in his eyes, you would faint too. 

He stared at my eyes for the longest moment, each second seemed like pure torture.   Who was this man and how could he have this affect on me?  He hand on my waist, he pushed himself closer to me.  He smelled so good.  I was intoxicated from his scent.  It was rich, clean, a mix of soap and after-shave.  I inhaled his scent and let his fingers trace figure eights over my body.  Yes, yes.  All of this, in an alley.

            Citygirl6: Tell me you didn’t?  please tell me you did not let him maul you in the alley?

            Presskitten:  I wasn’t mauled.  I liked it and I wanted to. Remember, my wish was for                                            no inhibition.

That was exactly what I remembered when his hand went into the waistline of the suit.  I could feel his fingers swift with the zipper and soon the flat of my tummy was exposed to the night air.  I sucked in air through my teeth and waited.  Then he finally spoke.

            “No inhibitions.” His voice was deep, husky and delicious.  It was like listening to Miles Davis on his horn.   It was melodious and teasing.  And it put me in a trance. 

I watched silently as his fingers worked into my pants and around the string bikini I was wearing.  There was nothing more arousing than watching someone work for pleasing me.  I was aroused watching his long fingers work, but I almost buckled when his flesh touched my small triangle of pubic hair.  Oh, there was no turning back at this point.  I needed this.

His fingers were warm despite the cold air.  They touched and molded me into silly putty and I gasped for air when he reached my pulsating nether lips. 

            Citygirl6: He fingered you in the alley?

            Presskitten: It was more like three fingers, but it felt good.

            Citygirl6:  In the alley?

            Presskitten: Yes, in the alley, three fingers up my twat.

            Citygirl6: You got some nerve.

            Presskitten:  Do you want to hear the rest of the story?

Zorro took his sweet time entering my wet channel.  He teased and toyed with my opening, letting his middle finger rest on my clit while his other two fingers worked my opening.  I was wet and ready for more.   As he worked, I saw my breaths suspended in the cold night air.  I groaned and arched and that is when his fingers slipped into my hole.  My insides started to throb around his thick digits.  As he pushed and pulled, he pressed his fingertips upwards to my g-spot. I was going to cum fast and hard. 

I grabbed onto his silk black shirt and pulled him close.  I closed my eyes and hide my face in his neck.  Zorro speeded up his pace and before I knew it, I was spiraling off the precipice into euphoric oblivion. As the waves of the orgasm subsided, I noticed a small brown mole under Zorro’s chin.  I know I had seen that mole somewhere before.

I released my hold on Zorro’s shirt and waited for my breathing to return to normal.  Zorro removed his fingers from me and licked them.  It was quite erotic to watch him savor my flavor as they say. As he smiled this half quirk of a smile, I knew that I knew him.

            Citygirl6: Of course you knew him, you had been talking to him for months.

            Presskitten:  That is not what I am talking about.  I know him before the online madness.

            Citygirl6:  Get out of here!?

            Presskitten: Yes, it was…

            “Sean!  What are you doing here? I mean I know what you are doing, but…”

Yes, it is was Sean, the photographer that I had been crushing on for a year.  There he was, standing there, looking kind of sheepish behind his mask, but his green eyes were flickering with raw emotions.  Why had I never noticed that his eyes were that green before?  Oh that is right, he was constantly wearing glasses at the office.

            “I am sorry Tyra, I thought you wouldn’t go for me if you knew who I was.”

            “Come on!  I have been wanting you for a year.  But, why didn’t you come clean when I told you I had a crush on a photographer that I worked with?”

            “I liked the games and the stories. I didn’t want to lose that when you found out who I was.”

            “Would you like to continue the game?”  

            Citygirl6: Oh my! Ty, what are you going to do now?

            Presskitten: Cook him brunch, we are famished.

Chased Through Montana eBook Available Now…


Chased Through Montana Available Now

Yummy...

 

This is my newest work, and I am so happy with this cover art.  I am glad to say that Chase Daniels needs a book all of his own…  so tasty…

https://beautifultroublepublishing.com/xcart/Chased-Through-Montana-EBOOK.html

Here is an excerpt:

Detective Layla Owens, after shooting a perp during a drug raid, was placed on mandatory administrative leave, with an “extended vacation” according to her old-fashioned captain and lieutenant. An “extended vacation” to think about her position and all the “things” she could do to make the problem “disappear.” Apparently catching the bad guy and shooting a drug dealer meant you had a problem—if you were a female cop. Disgusted by the captain’s obvious lust for her body, Layla took the leave and hightailed it to Montana. But once there, Layla didn’t expect to run in to someone far more dangerous to her body than criminals or the Maryland PD: Chase Daniels.

Chase Daniels had been around long enough to know that good women don’t just fall in your lap. Women desired him, and he didn’t have to run after any woman—except the day Layla Owens showed up at Stone Ridge. From the moment Chase saw her, all bets were off, and he couldn’t wait to let this detective to frisk him! Why didn’t she drool over him or at least try to get his attention? Chase isn’t used to being the one doing the chasing, but he will pursue the elusive but captivating Layla all up and through Montana just to make her his.


**EXCERPT**

 

“Ranger!” I yelled, coming around the corner at full speed. I skidded to a halt, the tips of my running shoes turning green in the lush grass. Ranger, the damned traitor, was lapping the face of someone. The dog’s tail was wagging like he’d just found his best friend. Then, the someone spoke.

“Okay, okay lil’ buddy. Since I just fed my girls, I guess I can feed you too. Where’s your papa?” The man’s melodious voice flicked a switch in my body. His tone was a deep and rich vibrato with a hint of a Southern drawl. Yes, his voice was like whisky, and I was already drunk. I bit my lower lip to get myself into check, or to stop the moan that rose to my throat. Five years of celibacy and this man had me wanting to throw my panties at him, and he was only talking to the dog. He could have a face only a mother could love, but his voice alone made me want to pant and drool. Damn.

I cleared my throat and walked over to the man as I watched him scratch Ranger behind his ears. His hair was a darker black than Ranger’s coat. His back was broad, straining against the plain gray t-shirt he wore. His blue jeans looked well worn, and he was wearing them well. As I checked out his jean-clad bottom, I crossed my arms in front of me.

“Ranger has a mama, not a papa,” I said slowly. The man didn’t jump at all; he wasn’t surprised by my voice, as if he expected me to be there. Then, he slowly rose from his hunched position. I think I now know what that little boy Jack must have felt when he was watching the beanstalk grow. Holy Mother was this man large and in charge. I thought he was broad? No, he was a barn. I could see just how muscled his thighs were. He made a proud, tall six-foot woman like me feel like a pocket toy. He had to be at least six foot seven. I must have been drooling, because I felt a gnat fly in my mouth. I smacked my mouth shut and tried to pry my eyes from his chest to his face.

Big mistake. The cerulean glare pinned me to the spot. This man was dangerous. I don’t know who he was, but my cop instinct was telling me to be careful. I had to get back in control. I wasn’t in high school anymore; I was thirty-four, damn it which meant no drooling over guys, barns…whatever the hell old blue eyes here was, I shouldn’t be drooling!

He didn’t have on a hat, or a Stetson like many of the men I’d seen passing by, but he touched his two fingers to his head and nodded just the same, and then he smiled. He had the nerve to have perfect white teeth against that tanned skin of his.

Please God, don’t let him work here!

He walked toward me with an extended hand, a sure smile on his face. Taking my hand in his much larger one, he gave it a firm shake.

“Well hello, Mama.” His voice was more dangerous than the criminals I locked up back home. Whatever it was this man was made of, they needed to bottle it and sell it to us lesser mortals. The combination of his warm hands and even warmer voice had me weak in the knees.

I was here for a vacation, not to get caught up in sinful pleasures with whatever his name was. I tried pulling my hand from his grasp, but he just held tighter. I just stared at our hands entwined his tan skin against my chocolate hue; it was definitely a huge turn-on. Damn, I had only been around this guy for two seconds, and I’d thought about sex for most of it. I am in deep shit.

“It’s not Mama, it’s Detective Layla Owens. Nice to meet you,” I said, giving another tug and getting my hands returned to me. I had to put my hands back in my jean pockets or I was going to be rubbing his chest like he was a magic lamp and I was trying to get a genie to pop out. Yeah, his pants’ genie. Ranger didn’t seem to be ready to make a move as he stood by the man as if I were the stranger.

His inky eyebrows knit together as he folded his arm in front of his chest. His smile disappeared.
“Is one of our boys in trouble? I told Grant that a couple of these newbies would be a handful, but I don’t think I’ve heard Sherriff Jim talk about a beautiful chocolate truffle working for him.” His voice dipped to a whisper as he looked me up and down. This man knew how to play the game; every move he made seemed deliberate and attuned to my need. Or maybe it was my need that was attuned to his movement?

I shook my head and widened my stance, as if he were just another perp I was questioning. I held up my hand in order to stop whatever he was going to say next.

“I am not on duty; I am on vacation, from out east.” There came that smile again.

He walked closer still until he was looking down at me with those mysterious pools of blue.
“So then it’s Layla Owens, and we can drop the ‘detective’? Unless, of course, you would like to frisk me…”

 

 

Conclusion – Private Dancer – Chapter 12


This is it… the conclusion.   I know the writing could use some work, but like I said, I wrote this story a long long time ago, and have merely tweaked some things here and there.  I couldn’t let the character’s go, but I couldn’t let the story die altogether now could I?

Here it is… the conclusion to Private Dancer:  http://wp.me/PRJAl-3l

Severing Ties, Forming New Bonds…Private Dancer – Ch. 11


Severing Ties, Forming New Bonds…Private Dancer – Ch. 11 http://wp.me/PRJAl-3g