A Free Unedited Read – Reckless


This has been a labor of love for the last few months.   It is finished in its entirety on the site.    One big factor that is different about this piece, there is no sex.  That is right, NO SEX.   It is a romantic suspenseful ride, but the characters had their own stories to tell, and quite frankly, it is meant to be an emotional tale, not a horny one.    There is plenty of that around here, poke around in the other free reads and you will find that plenty and abound.   However, if you are looking for that same amount of tension and heat that you have come to learn from my characters, then please enjoy this read from the bottom of my heart.    Enjoy being Reckless ….

 

Reckless -One Busy Morning – Chapter One

 

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Burning Down Montana – Chapter 7


Birds were chirping wildly outside of her window at the first strike of light. She lay in her bed listening to the sounds of the birds. Her phone was buzzing next to her. She picked it up and smiled as she read the text from her brother.

These are birds, right? I’m pretty sure these are what birds sound like.

She almost laughed at loud at that. Having grown up in the bright lights of Las Vegas, the only birds they had heard on the regular was the iron variety, planes, the sounds of cars, drunk college students had woke them up in the morning.

Yes brother dear, these are indeed birds. Coffee?

She typed back and waited. Today she would tackle why Felix was missing in action. Something in her gut was telling her something was definitely wrong, Felix has never gone missing before.

Ten minutes, meet you downstairs. Brighton has something to show me.

That was odd. When did Brighton and her brother exchange numbers? It was when she heard Brighton’s accent and Vinny’s deep timbre, that she realized he must have gone directly to his door. A part of her was ticked that he would take Vinny with him rather than herself, but as she moved to take a quick shower and felt the aches from the accident and the lingering scar, perhaps it was best that he took Vinny, she was supposed to be recovering.

Read the rest of Chapter 7 here ….Chapter 7 > Burning Down Montana

Burning Down Montana – Chapter 3


Brighton put his hands in his pocket and began whistling on his way out of the hospital.   For the first time he’d felt like he’d found more of a purpose for his life than tactical maneuvers and killing.  He felt exhilaration at riding in the ambulance, and he hadn’t felt that in years.   While he was only thirty-seven, he’d felt like he was quickly falling into a mid-life crisis.  The explosion and the ill-tempered Vesta St. James made him think less of himself and helping someone else.

He couldn’t help but smile at her sailor tongue.  Hell, he knew some in the Royal Navy who couldn’t swear as well.  She’d managed to use every American swear word he was familiar with in a single sentence.   She wasn’t a weakling, and yet, Brighton felt her vulnerability when he’d carried her to the stretcher.  Vesta was a mysterious mix of sexy, sassy and innocent.  Her barbed tongue didn’t fool him for a moment.  He was going to make sure that while she was here, she would know he was right there with her.

He needed to make a call to his twin brother, Bradford, although he already knew what he was going to say.  It wasn’t a twin ‘sense’ Bradford was just predictably pessimistic.  As the phone rang, he prepared himself for his sibling’s tirade.

“You’re joking? No one goes back to school at thirty-seven.”  Bradford’s tone sounded bored as usual.

“It isn’t school.  I’m going to take a firefighter’s course and then an emergency responder course.  I need to be doing something.”

“We are doing something.  Chase helped us find the jobs at the ranch.”

“That isn’t helping people.”

“What do you call it when some kid falls off a horse? That’s helping.”  Brighton could hear the disgust in Bradford’s voice.  Even in their days at Scaitcliffe, school was never Bradord’s ‘thing’ as the Americans put it.

“Bradford, I’m going to do this.   I’m done wandering all over.  At some point, you have to stop wandering and find home.”

“Home is in England, lest you’ve forgotten, but neither one of us can go back there, now can we?”

“Not unless you want to be responsible and claim your title as the Earl of Feversham and sit pretty on Parliament.”

“Not for a million pounds dear brother. Do you plan on going back so your arranged marriage can take place?”

“Not for all the tea in England.”

Continue here>>>>>Burning Down Montana – Chapter Three

Burning Down Montana – Chapter Two


ALL RIGHTS RESERVED – COPYRIGHT

Vesta could smell.   She could smell the bleach,  the aerosol of linen and the stench of awful hospital food.  Hospitals, plainly, sucked, and she hated them.  She immediately wanted out.  In her mind, she could feel herself turning to move, as if she could walk away from the smell and the hospital.   Her body, however, didn’t respond quite the way she had imagined.  Her arms and legs hit metal.  Well son of a bitch.

“Are you trying to go somewhere pet?”  Ah, she could hear too, and she could hear a man with an English accent calling a her a fucking pet? She tried to turn toward the direction of the voice only to have searing pain tear through her left side.   She couldn’t scream,  but the pain was enough to spring tears to her eyes and she felt the salty water run down hehr cheeks.

“Ahh pet, don’t cry.    Don’t move either, its going to hurt.”   She could hear the voice had gotten closer,  and she was in no condition to protest as she felt large,  warm fingers swipe away the tears from her cheeks.  There was an odd comfort in his touch,  he must have been a doctor, no one had ever touched her and made her feel safe.   She opened her eyes, not that it did her any good as she couldn’t see past the thin layer of guaze.  The blinding flourescnet lights overhead made the doctor look like a very big blur.

“Oh my, damnit Vesta!”   at the sound of her brother’s voice, she wanted to turn and smile, but she held back, remembering what the last attempt to move did to her.

“Doc, what happened?”

“I’m not the doctor.”….

Continue reading at the link below…

https://nevealane.wordpress.com/burning-down-montana-chapter-one/burning-down-montana-chapter-two/

 

 

Burning Down Montana (A Free Read – Continuing the Trilogy)


If you have not read Marked in Montana or Chased Through Montana, they are up for free under my username on Wattpad.
The reason I posted these works for free now is because after 7 years, a short story is a short story. There is no reason for you to pay or have to go to pirate sites to gain these little gems. As a writer I am more concerned with giving you my words now rather than how much I am going to get paid for it. So here are the links, but they are stand alones and do not need to be read in order to comprehend the new work coming up.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/88225116-marked-in-montana-bwwm-short-erotica-complete

https://www.wattpad.com/story/109803486-chased-through-montana-a-bwwm-erotic-romance

Now, this work will be unedited, so I don’t want to hear go get an editor! I am doing this for the joy of writing, not the joy of figuring out the oxford comma. So…. without much further ado…

Chapter One – Burning Down Montana (https://nevealane.wordpress.com/burning-down-montana-chapter-one/)

Excerpt –

The stage was set for the concert. A grand finale of fireworks was expected for the end of the county celebration. Vesta checked to make sure all of the wires were attached to the appropriate charges. When the popular band asked for a major pyrotechnic display for a grand finale at a Montana music festival, she’d been the one to land the job. Being a pyrotechnician, it was difficult to come by jobs, being a female pyrotechnic coordinator; it was ten times more difficult to land jobs because she had breasts. Whoever said the glass ceiling was being shattered everywhere by women never had a job involving blowing things up.

As she hopped down from the large outdoor platform, a spark coming from the end of the catwalk caught her attention. Quirking her eyebrow and pulling her braided hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, she walked toward the sparking blue light. She knew she’d cut off all power to the main battery, and this blue spark meant trouble. There could be no mistakes as there would be thousands of people at this festival tonight.

Picking up her walkie-talkie, Vesta checked in with her foreman, her second in command, Felix.

“Felix, did you cut the power for the main catwalk?”

“Course, why?” his response crackling through the speaker.

“ I got a spark at the end of walkway. Going to check it out.”

 

Interviewing the Italian (Chapters Four and Five)


Chapter Four

 

He never did answer that question about the gun or the Doberman. His pink lips shifted into something akin to a smile but with a dangerous edge to it.  Augostino Romani was a hard man to figure out.  Instead of answering, he stood up and offered me his hand.  I looked at his hand and then back up to his gaze. I was still sitting. Why wasn’t he answering me?  When someone avoids you like that, you don’t just blindly go with them, regardless of how handsome he was.

He took a deep breath and I could see his chest expand, stretching the material of his plum colored shirt. Does he ever wear anything that made him less appealing? I noticed he had forgone the tie today and his top button was undone.  I could not take my gaze off the furtive showing of his neck.  It was hypnotic watching him do something as simple as swallowing.  He cleared his throat and my eyes snapped to his.  His hand still outstretched, his fingers curled to a ‘come to me’ gesture.

“I’m going to take you on a tour of my offices. Everything you’ll need to know will become clear eventually.” His tone dropped to a dangerous vibrato that exuded confidence and mystery.  Swallowing and taking a fortifying breath, I nodded. . I was rarely intimidated by anything, especially not a man, but deep down I felt like August was more than just a mere man. He was a danger to my view of the world. He was powerful, true, but he didn’t try to bully me, although he could,  from the predatory way he walked, I knew August was rarely told no or denied, but there was something about him that was definitely hidden, a secret.  Most people aren’t arrogant for the fuck’s sake of being an ass.   August was no different, unfortunately for him,   I had a serious case of curiosity when it came to him.

I took his hand and allowed him to lead me out of his office.  He tucked my arm safely inside his and I felt like we were walking more like a couple than boss and employee.  As we passed his secretary’s desk, she tried to mask the look of shock on her face. I knew what she was looking at. I would be shocked to if I saw my boss linked arm and arm with one of his employees.   He didn’t seem to notice, or he  just didn’t care because he told her to cancel any appointments for today and hold all his calls, except any from Adriano.  She swallowed and her eyes narrowed as her gaze settled on me. Returning her same icy stare, I wondered if she knew just how green and jealous she looked. I have seen her type before I thought as I looked at her from head to toe, she was the unassuming secretary, but it was a strategic plan. I could tell that the simple ponytail that held her auburn curls took time to perfect. Her ‘minimal’ make up was actually a lot of make-up used to look natural. Her simple black pencil skirt had a slit up the front thigh and her top was a size too small.  Yes, I knew her type and she worried too much. I was not about to cross that line of boss and employee. She can have that role. It wasn’t in the cards for me. I didn’t let my eyes waiver from hers as August signed some papers she handed to him.  What did I have to be ashamed of? Finally, the game grew tiresome and she averted her gaze to August.  He had been staring at her as well.  I am pretty sure he did not miss the visual show down between me and “Sally Secretary.”  I knew he didn’t as he took his hand and covered my fingers that were resting in the crook of his elbow.  His heated touch shattered the icy moment between the secretary and me.  His hands were soft yet slightly calloused. Apparently he wasn’t always privileged; there was some point where he must have worked, either for fun or for a living. He kept getting more and more interesting.  August propelled me out of the door and took me on a tour of his offices. There was the accounting, human resources and so many names I couldn’t remember.  Yet, the people changed but the response to August was always the same. He was respected and feared at the same time. Was he really a tyrant to work for, or was it that he never really interacted with his employees?

As we approached a huge set of metal double doors, August finally let go of my arm. I honestly didn’t even notice that he had kept me that close during the two hour tour of his business.  He turned to look at me with a very serious stare. His eyes were a cool blue, as if he was trying to see through me.

He put his hands in his black tailored slacks and studied me for a moment. I returned his gaze evenly, even though a part of me wanted to yell ‘what?’

“This is the lab. This is where all of the new projects are housed.  Before we walk through that door, I need to know that I have total loyalty to me and that you will not even think to speak about what you have seen.”  It wasn’t phrased as a question, and I didn’t take it as one. A part of me prickled and got defensive. He did a background check on me for heaven’s sake!  As hard as it was, I pushed the defensive feeling down and attempted to sound civil. After all, this was his idea.  I latched my hands behind my back and bit my tongue so none of my my angry retorts came out of my mouth.

“Mr. Romani, please don’t show me anything if you feel as though I can’t be trusted, I won’t take it personal. I can tell you that I don’t leak, I don’t spy, and I definitely don’t steal. You, having researched me as well, should know this.” Damn, that still sounded bitchy.  I knew it when he raised that one damned eyebrow at me again. I really knew it when I saw a line in his squared jaw tick. Taking a deep breath I tried to recover my wayward bitchiness. I purposely dropped my tone to a husky breathlessness that I hoped took all edge off what I was trying to say. “What I am trying to say is that, no, I won’t say anything, but you don’t have to take my word for it. The tour can stop here if you like.”

I ventured to look into his eyes again as his hands came out of his pocket. They were clinched in tight fists.  He was still appeared agitated, because his cool blue eyes had turned into that threatening navy color again.  He walked extremely close to me and his nose was almost touching mine. I had to lift my chin just to make eye contact. I could feel the heated air coming from his flared nostrils and settling around my face. Should I apologize?

“My employees call me August. No one calls me Mr. Romani. No one.”  He said through gritted teeth. Abruptly, he turned and walked to a mirrored black surface next to the doors and pressed his hands against it. A cyan light scanned both of his large hands and the double doors slid open with a faint swoosh.

He stood to the side and with both hands motioned for me to walk through the doors. I hurried through them as if I was being chased. If I was honest to myself, I just didn’t want to be alone with the man. He was intoxicating one minute and had me scared senseless the next. All because I called him by his last name he got in my face?  That was the second time he got testy when I mentioned it. I had a feeling this was going to be a real interesting assignment.

I followed him around as he showed me various projects he was working on. I asked him questions about his timeline for launch, his other ideas and as he talked, my own excitement started building inside of me. By the time the tour of the lab had finished, I almost found myself regretting being a mere journalist instead of an engineer. His work seemed so fresh and it was hard not to get caught up in the rush of problem solving.  Walking around the lab seemed to put him at ease as well because he was no longer growling. As we rode in the elevator back to his office, I glanced at my watch. It was past six o’clock in the evening? How could I have not noticed how late it was and we missed lunch? As if on cue, my stomach let out a low growl. I sent a sidelong glance in August’s direction and I could tell he heard it. He couldn’t keep the smirk off his face if he wanted to. As embarrassing as it was, I needed to satisfy my stomach.  I knew I had some sort of pasta at my apartment.

As we walked into his office, I picked up my shoulder bag and just began talking.

“Ok, so I will meet you back here tomorrow August?”  His head bobbed up from the papers he was gathering into briefcase. His narrowed gaze halted me. What did I say now?

“What part of 24/7 didn’t you understand Yvonne?” His said, sounding even more dangerous than he did at the lab entrance.

“I’m a writer, I thought it was a figure of speech.” I know he wasn’t thinking what I prayed he wasn’t thinking!

“I don’t use ‘figures of speech’. I say exactly what I mean. When I said 24/7 I meant just that.” His tone was low, but the way he snapped his briefcase closed and took my shoulder bag from me.  Taking a firm hold on my elbow, he marched me over to his bookcase.  Pressing an unseen button, unseen because I was still in shock, I saw the bookcase slide back to reveal a private elevator. Who was he, Batman?  I was speechless as he escorted me into the elevator I stayed speechless.  He expected me really to be around him all day and night?  Apparently. He led me to a sleek black sports car. I shook off the shock long enough to notice we were in a private garage.   There were two other cars, a white formal looking Lexus and another black pick-up with alloy wheels. There was also a motorcycle. This man was constantly shocking me. Most people with his wealth would have at least had a driver.

I cleared my throat as I watched him put our bags in the back of his trunk. He shrugged off his suit coat and laid it in the trunk over our bags. August closed the trunk quickly and opened my side of the door. I slid in, almost afraid to say a word.  After he slid in the car and turned on the ignition, only then, did he explain his rude behavior.  He took a deep breath and for a moment, I thought he would apologize.

“I am a loner, and I am not used to having to explain my actions to anyone.  When I said 24/7 I thought you understood. I mean where I go, you go, always, home, work, play, you are there.” He rushed out, as he rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. Does this man have a gentle side? Hell, does he even know how to apologize? My stomach chose to pick that moment to make its emptiness known.  I was too hungry to even come up with a hot tempered reply that would satisfy me.  “Let us get you fed huh?” his tone softening, almost sounding as if he was concerned.  Yet, a part of me felt agitated and worried. Scolding myself for not thinking this through, and realizing that I really don’t know who August is, I started to fidget in the low bucket seats.   This probably wasn’t the best ‘impulsive’ thing that I have done. I haven’t even told Lena yet.   I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and began to type a quick email to Lena, vaguely explaining what was going on.  I caught him throwing me sidelong glances. I wasn’t offering up any more information.

“What are you doing?” I realized that he could have whispered as quiet as it was in the speeding sports car.  Yet, August doesn’t whisper, he either growls or stares.  There is no such thing as whispering with him. As I contemplated an answer, I saw his forearms tense waiting for my response. His veins began to bulge from the skin, and I quickly swallowed. Damn him.

“Sending out a text so everyone knows I’ve been kidnapped.”  Chew on that you controlling prick.The son of a bitch laughed at me. I am not speaking of a small chuckle. No, Augostino Romani let out a belly laugh that induced tears in his eyes.  He cast me a look quickly and averted his gaze back to the road.

“No one would believe you bellisima. I do remember some magazines have called me a playboy.” He accent became thicker the further we sped from his office. It was a melodic sound, not the over inflected Italian accents from the movies, but natural, soothing, like waves of the ocean lapping a sandy beach. I sucked in a huge breath. I have lost it. I am getting lost in his voice. I needed a mental shake. As I looked down at my phone, I see Lena’s text message in capital letters. It simply said “WHAT?”  If I knew Lena, which I do, I know she was pacing up and down trying to figure out how in the world I went from an interview to a personal journalist.  I typed back “Don’t worry, I’m fine. It was the sneakers.”

She typed back a smile face and something that I would say resembled devil horns. “Details required. Be safe.”  I fought back a smile as I slid the phone into my purse.  At least now I could rest easy, knowing that someone knew that this ‘playboy’ was commandeering my time.

He cleared his throat. I didn’t think he was the type of man used to being ignored or not commanding all the attention.  I turned and watched him drive for a moment.  His movements were sure and confident. I looked around and could tell we were outside of DC’s city limits because there were actually lawns in front of the houses we passed.

“Ok, playboy,” I could hear his growl as I let the nickname slip “I was just letting someone know that I was safe.  I wouldn’t want anyone to worry.  Now, can we get back to interviewing?”

“Si.” He gave a small nod of the head and I was back in the driver’s seat. It was the only place that I was comfortable.

“So where are you taking me?” I said.

“To my home in Maryland. It is close enough to commute, but for enough away for my privacy sake.”

“Ok. Any girlfriend’s that might find me riding in a sleek tricked out sports car with you a little objectionable?”

“The last girlfriend I had was Lucy. We dated for a while, but we broke it off about a month ago.” He still said that with a tight lip and there was a hint of a snarl.  Unfortunately I had read the gossip pages on him and Lucy, and I knew they had reportedly been engaged.

“Were you two really engaged?”  I bit my lip. Why did I always seem to stick my foot in my mouth around him?

“Yes.” Ouch, no wonder he was touchy.  One thing I’d learned that day, is that I have a habit of saying the wrong thing.   Although most journalists do.  I could tell by the way the fine hairs on my arms began to stand up, he was eyeing me with an icy glare. I had spent most of that day not talking to him, just sitting back and observing the way that he conducted himself. He was all about business, but whether he kept his tone professional or not, he said a lot more with his body language.  I could tell when there were too many questions about simple tasks when his jaw began to tick. I could tell that he was deep in thought when his eyebrows almost came together. At that moment, well, I know that I personally had ticked him off enough times to know he was angry when his voice dropped to a whisper.  I took a moment to stare out the window and noticed we were pulling up in front of a large estate, no, massive estate. As we roll in through the privacy gates, I noticed that everything was secure. I took note of several cameras positioned around the fences, it appeared to be someone on the roof and if I was not mistaken, there were several bodyguards at the door.  I think I may have been kidnapped by Bruce Wayne.

 

Chapter Five

“You won’t need a Doberman, I have ten of them.” August chuckled and I was slacked jawed.  He finally managed to answer the question and I was too speechless to give a damn. August preceded me out of the car and came to open my door. He offered his hand to me to help me out.  I took in my surroundings while one of the large men came towards August and launched into an update. August still had my hand nestled in the crook of his arm.  I tried to tune out what the guard was saying but when I heard my apartment’s address being mentioned; I whipped my head at August.

“They will drive back to your apartment tonight and pick up some clothes and things that you think you will need. Do you have a key to give them?” August said, his tone calm, as if this was an everyday occurrence.  Who knows, for him, perhaps it was. I fumbled around with my key in my purse. I snatched the clipboard from the waiting guard, and pulled the pen from behind my ear.  I wrote down instructions of what should be touched and what shouldn’t be touched.  It was still awkward, but with August smiling at me in approval, it was worth the risk.  If he was going to play his role, I was going to play mine.  My thoughts quickly turned to what type of questions I would ask, starting with his childhood and how did his brother become a detective.

Turnabout is fair play in my book and since he started to control various aspects of my life, I was going to get to know various aspects of his, intimately.   As the guard finished his report, he beckoned for two other guards to come to him. He handed them my scrawled list and my keys.  As I looked at the four men, I realized one thing. August was taller than all of them. What was the point of having security when you are taller and broader than the ones supposedly protecting you?  While I was working that thought over in my mind, I felt I was being led to the inside of the house.  When we walked into the foyer, I was so glad that he still had my arm. I would have fainted. The ceilings were high and lit with crystal chandeliers, and what looked like a rendition of the Creation of Adam from the Sistine Chapel. This was too much. He wanted me to live here? I was going to get lost within thirty minutes.

“August?” I said, stopping in the middle of the floor. I needed a moment.

“Overwhelmed?” He said, his voice for once sounding human, husky, not like some caged wounded animal.

“You can say that.  Ok, it has been a long day, and perhaps I can have an expedition tomorrow, but I think I am going on overload. I need dinner.”

“I am sorry, I keep forgetting most people eat dinner well before midnight. Your rooms are down that hall. Beatrice will show you the way.” All of a sudden, a housekeeper clad in a gray uniform materialized. Is that what he means by beck and call; to appear when mentioned like magic? “Beatrice, good evening. Please show Ms. Mason her rooms and then lead her to the dining room. I think a light supper would be good.” Turning to me, he nodded his head and said, “I have a few phone calls to make. I will see you in the dining room.” With a turn, he was gone. His Armani shoes didn’t make a sound as he walked on the tile floor. Beatrice led me down a long hall and to a huge room. She reminded me of a pear with a wig. She was round and her tight curls bounced as she bounced down the hall. Even Beatrice made some noise in her sensible sneakers. They squeaked on the polished marble floor.

“Right this way Ms. Mason.” I couldn’t manage to close my mouth. There was a large four poster bed, made of oak or maybe walnut. I didn’t honestly know, all I could describe was that it was majestic. The fluffy comforter was stripped royal blue and gold.  I couldn’t resist but to fling myself onto it. The bed was soft and squishy. How I could really get a good night sleep in here? My stomach let another rumble. Right, food, and then sleep. I couldn’t help but to take another sweeping view of the room. It seemed as though the room was comprised of oak from ceiling to floor. Something about the room reminded me of August. The desk settled in the corner was an exact replica of the one in his office at Romani Enterprises.  I put down my purse. There wasn’t much I could do until my bags arrived. I noticed that Beatrice was still standing there. I looked at her and just smiled.

“Might as well get this show on the road,” I said as I kicked off my heels. I took my hair up into a hair binder I keep around my wrist, probably out of habit, and walked out. I counted the doors and made sure I knew how to get back. We walked into a large formal dining room with a huge wood table that looked like it could sit at least twenty people.  I saw August speaking rapidly into a phone in a flurry of Italian, pacing back and forth at the head of the table.  The chairs were plush and I walked as close to the pacing August as I dared. A butler, for heaven’s sake, a butler materializes and pulls out the cream and gold high backed chair. I couldn’t believe this. Security guards, butlers, maids, I was definitely not in Kansas anymore. As I sat and the butler disappeared like smoke, I focused on August’s conversation.

“Adriano…” August sighed into the receiver. “Sì farò attenzione.” My Italian was rusty, but I knew he said he would be careful. What did August need to be careful about? All of my senses screamed at me to be on alert. I could only understand certain phrases, but I couldn’t begin to untangle them as I began to officially become a nervous wreck. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I sat down, letting my analytical mind take over. If he did all that research on me, he would know that I would know some Italian and French. So he would not be speaking it to hide something from me. At least I didn’t think so.  As I waited for the conversation to end, I tried to assimilate some facts about how I went from being a simple reporter to a personal journalist that may or may not be in danger. I looked around. There were several security cameras in the dining room and who knows how many throughout the rest of the house. Engineers shouldn’t be this paranoid, or maybe August is that paranoid.  I was trying not to overreact. I took deep breaths and stared at him as he sat down, finishing the phone call with a decisive press of the end button. Was he smiling at me?  I looked down at the plate of cheese, bread and grapes.  That is right, Italians eat in courses. It was going to be a long night. There was a white wine bottle at my elbow that all my instincts were telling me not to drink, not yet. Not until I found out what was really going on, then I might need the whole bottle. He took his seat next to me, and picked up one of the small wedges of white cheese. He held it in between his thumb and forefinger, giving the cheese a good squeeze, and then, opening his pink full lips slightly, placing the wedge in his mouth. As he chewed thoughtfully I wondered if he was trying to turn me on purposely or was I just that easily turned on. It had been a long time since, well since anything.  Trying to clamp down on my raging hormones, I looked back at my plate. Taking one deep breath, I didn’t bother by looking up at him as I spoke.

“Ok, I am not going to overreact, and I am not going to pitch a fit. But are you going to tell me what that was all about, or do I need to pry?”

“That was Adriano.” He said and that was all his said. He picked up a grape and popped it into his mouth. He was the most infuriating man I had ever met.

“I know who it was,” As my top lip curled in frustration, I realized I was not going to get information from him if I seemed disturbed.   I smiled sweetly at him, and batted my lashes.  “August, look, you want me to be your personal journalist, but you keep me in the dark about a lot of things and you aren’t all that trusting. Tell me again why you want me to be under you all the time?”  I clamped my mouth shut. It didn’t take an engineer or a genius to figure out how that sounded. I risked looking at him from underneath my lashes, and as I figured, that damn eyebrow was raised again.  This time, not out of anger. He seemed amused. I looked at him fully as I finally got over my temporary embarrassment.

“That sounded really sexy…” His eyes were sparkling with laughter, my hand went for the fork.

“Don’t play with me or my time. What the hell is going on?” I said, pointing the fork at him. I had enough of games, and I was cranky from being hungry.

“If anyone else pointed a fork at me,” he drawled, his voice dipping even lower, if that was possible, and the eyebrow inched just a little higher, “you would be outside by now. But since you are my guest…” He trailed off, eyeing me, wearing me down with his infiltrating gaze.  As I put the fork down, my eyes never left his.  He picked up another piece of cheese and nodded towards my plate.  Ok I was hungry, he knew it, and my stomach knew it. Yet, my brain also knew he was stalling. Yet, what would he be stalling for? Mulling over these new developments, I finally put a wedge of the cheese in my mouth.  The smoky flavor of the cheddar burst on my tongue and I temporarily lost the will to give a damn about Augustino Romani. Why had cheese never tasted so good?  Following the cheese with a few grapes and a few apple slices, my stomach finally stopped protesting As I finished chewing a piece of Italian bread, another course of some steaming fish was laid in front of me.  Typically I was a roast beef on wheat sort of girl, and, if I wanted to get fancy, maybe some store bought soup, but this was magnificent.  August still hadn’t spoken, and kept silent as he worked off the cork to the white wine. He poured my glass half full and did the same to his in languid movements, as if each second was precious.   He set my glass down carefully and swirled the transparent cold liquid around in his glass. As we ate some of the fish, I realized he still hadn’t said one word.   Again the differences in our world showed themselves.  I was used to rowdy conversation, from either my siblings or my co-workers, and not eating in silence.  I sipped a bit of the wine, wishing it was a nice cold beer.  I pushed the plate away and  folded my hands in my lap and glanced at his face.  August was not staring at his food but his blue eyes were trained on me with an intense look.  Staring back, I studied his face. .  His jaw wasn’t ticking and for once, he seemed unsure of himself. The fire normally behind the cobalt eyes was gone, and he looked almost, normal.  For only a mere moment, I felt sorry for him. All of this luxury, and he lived in it alone. He was regarding me with a curious expression on his face, and as an interviewer, I have seen it before. It is that look of wanting to say something but can’t. That expression to me screams band-aid, and it is always best to pull it off swiftly. “Spill it.” I said, tilting my head to the side. “You are very direct. I like that about you. My plan is to catch the leak and I need your help.” I swore he was giving me puppy dog eyes.  What in the world had I gotten myself into, he wasn’t James Bond, and I wasn’t trying to be Halle Berry.  He pouted a bit but then smiled.    He smile was as stunning as his eyes.    I cleared my throat and met his gaze.

“Don’t do the pouting thing; I got a mother who can do it far better than you. Can I know what the plan is, or are you planning on keeping that to yourself?”

“Let’s finish eating first and I will tell you.”  I folded my arms. Who in the hell did he think he was, besides Augostino Romani sexy as hell software engineer? I don’t take orders from anyone except my mother, and I was on vacation from her for a few months.  August began to dig into his fish again and looked at me with a cold glare.  He pointed his fork at my plate and said it again. “Eat.”  He was finishing his meal with gusto and I took one more bite of the fish.  Licking my lips, I grabbed another piece of bread and tore a corner off and popped it into my mouth.   My eyes never faltered from his face as he chewed and swallowed more wine.  I waited until his butler arrived and cleared our dishes.  “Ok, I ate, now talk Augostino.”  I said as I watched the butler disappear behind the swinging doors.

“I would have thought eating would have made you less thorny.” He sighed as he took another sip of his wine, but his eyes were scrutinizing me from behind the rim of the glass. I could see he was in bait and catch mode again. I rolled my eyes.

“Nothing can make me less thorny, especially in all of this” I said as I waved a hand through the air, pointing at the security cameras. “I am a journalist. Everything that you have said so far makes my radar go haywire and I have a million and one questions to ask you.” I got up out of the chair and began to pace, my stocking feet not making a sound on the plush long hair carpet. Who has carpet in their dining room? The fact that I was agitated at him having carpet in a dining room made me realize that I was the one acting like a pouty child.   The thought that I was not behaving like myself pissed me off even more.  I’d always told myself that I wouldn’t let anything change who I was professionally or personally, but August seemed to seep under my skin like nothing else. . I didn’t realize that I had stopped pacing as was staring at the floor until I heard August behind me.

“Fair enough.” He said, slowly, hints of the wine drifted to my noise as I felt the moist air from his lips dance along my neck. I whirled around to face him. Damn he moved like a panther!  “I have a leak as you have heard. I think I know who this leak is.  I need you not to pose as my biographer but as now my mistress.”  I gasped. Oh, I was going to need that drink.  I walked around him and reached for the wine glass and drained it.  My mouth couldn’t keep up with all the things I was thinking.  As I set the glass down, a simple question formed in my brain and the absurdity of what he was proposing made me angry.   No one was going to believe we were a couple and I’d be a laughing stock in the journalism industry.

“How is pretending to be your new arm candy going to help you?” I shouted,  only lowering my voice after I heard the echo of it bouncing back at me. “And didn’t you just break up with someone? And who in the world is going to believe that?” I realized that I just bombarded him with several questions in one sentence and stopped abruptly.  I tend to ask questions when I am nervous, and man, dropping the word ‘mistress’ into an after dinner conversation would have made anyone nervous.

“You have a nose for sniffing things out, you are quite the observer, I’ve noticed that much. As a biographer, there will be certain functions that you cannot get into. Parties, conventions and so on. But, as my lover you can go where I go. Same thing with being my biographer, there are places that you as my biographer can go where my lover cannot.”  He was behind me again, his hands on my shoulders, kneading and massaging my tensed frame.   My body started to unwind under his warm fingers, as his thumbs circled on my neck.

“Are you telling me I am in a win-win situation?” I said trying to not sound as breathless as his massage was making me feel.    Did he really just calm me down with a touch?

“Yes, you are in a win-win situation. And no, you are not risking your life. I will be there to protect you, always. You will still get your story, I will catch the leak, and we will all be happy.”  His mouth was close to my ear, and his whispered toned made me shiver a bit.

“And how long do you think that it will take to catch the leak?”  I swallowed and cleared my throat.  His fingers traced the lines of my collar bone and I felt my heart beating rapidly in my chest.

“Do you have a problem with posing as my mistress for a while? It may take a month it may take longer. Until then, your will be my live-in lover.”  His voice was soft as he rolled the ‘r’ in lover.    Again, his lips were extremely close to my skin, and I felt myself shiver.  I could feel the tip of his nose hovering dangerously close to my neck.  I groaned and tried to put some space between us by stepping out of his embrace.

I do wish he would stop using that lover word. That implies way too much.  Every time he says lover, I get the vision of  him and me entwined in sheets.  I mean I am a female, and how could I not think of sex when this man exuded nothing but raw sensuality. Besides, being celibate for the last five years hadn’t helped much either.

“I don’t know about this. I mean, I know how the press can be. They will start asking me questions, expecting me to know answers to certain things,” I was not about to say they will expect us to kiss and so on.

“All of which I am sure you will be able to answer in time.  Our first outing is tomorrow. There is a charity gala at the Italian embassy. There is a dress for you to wear already in your closet.  Get plenty of sleep because I will need you alert.” August placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me to look at him.   Placing his warm fingers under my chin and lifting it, I allowed myself to regard him as just a man and not the man I’d placed on a pedestal.  He was attractive, but there was more to him and I wanted to get to know what else lied beneath the surface.

He bent down and he was staring at me deep into my eyes. There was a spark of desire there that I am sure I did not imagine.  Oh my god, he wanted me to play his mistress, but I am not sure exactly how much of his look was just role play.

“You will be safe with me. I will be there with you, by your side.” August said in a hushed whisper, and he gave me a small kiss on the forehead. With the kiss and a nod to me, he was gone.  As the flesh of my forehead tingled with a warm sensation of where his lips had been, I thought about his words.  My body may not come to harm being with him, but my libido may not be so safe.

New Release! Midnight and Mayhem by Nevea Lane


CLICK TO BUY! Midnight and Mayhem by Nevea Lane

I’ve got a new release for you all and it is longer than most stories I’ve written.   I’ve always wanted to create a vampire.  I didn’t think I had enough knowledge to create a believable one.  Let’s face it, I was a pre-teen when Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles hit bookstores and Ms. Rice created such angst and believable characters, I was convinced that she’d captured what a vampire should be. I’ve been hooked on the blood suckers ever since.  I read every book in that series, some of them twice.   A part of me hid away the desire to create a vampire universe because I thought it would be too time consuming. The thought nagged at me for years.  Finally, on a whim, a hunch and a really good bottle of red wine, I tied myself to the computer and created this.  Book One in my Midnight series, Midnight and Mayhem.   Continue reading for an excerpt.

Blurb

Etienne Le’Maistre was dedicated to hunting rogue vampires and anything that threatened his status as the vampire leader of his coven. Everything he did was part of his vow as a warrior and a leader. When he heard the terrifying screams of a child in the night, he acted from a new perspective, that of protector. Saving the life of a human mother and child from a vampire attack was just a part of his duty—or so he thought.

Thirty years later, that child was a grown China Kincaid. Since that fateful night, she’d focused all of her energy on one thing: revenge. She knew vampires were real and she was going to kill them all, or die trying. When her hunting led her back to Etienne, the vampire who’d saved her all those years ago, China realized there was another world out there she didn’t know. Would she be able to survive in Etienne’s world of midnight and mayhem?

***EXCERPT***

“Miss Kincaid, please understand you are going to start a lot of trouble, and I can assure you there are less understanding people out there than I. You could get hurt.”

“People, you aren’t people! You are dead things playing alive and you…”
Before Etienne could stop himself, he rounded the desk and had China in his arms. He looked down at her shocked face, her pink mouth slightly agape, yet her eyes half-lidded, as if she was drunk. There was nothing he could do against the strong pull to kiss her. Before he could find the willpower not to kiss her, his hand had entwined in her ponytail and he tugged her hair back just a bit. His lips danced lightly over hers, kissing, prodding. The pleasure of her mouth on his forced him to keep his top lip curled over his incisors, even as they began to descend. He didn’t want to nip her. However, there was nothing he could do to shield her from the hard line of his painfully aroused cock pressing into her stomach.

Breaking the kiss with a hiss, Etienne backed away from China and made sure she saw his gaze. He knew what he looked like caught in lust: his eyes would be glowing, and his skin would be flushed. His pronounced canines would be gleaming by now, fully descended and ready for a drink.

“Did that feel so dead to you, Miss Kincaid?” Her hand flew to her lips in horror. He told himself that he kissed her to make her see the danger she was in, but he just couldn’t bring himself to believe that lie.

THE NEXT BIG THING – Blog Hop


BLOG HOP-The Next Big Thing

Okay, I was tagged for the BLOG HOP- The Next Big Thing

Thank you to Kimmie Thomas from http://shereallysaidit.wordpress.com.  Now, I’ve blogged and ranted, but I’ve never hopped, so this should really be fun.

The rules for the Blog Hop are as follows:

*****Give credit to the person/blog that tagged you

*****Post the rules for the blog hop

*****Answer these ten questions about the current WIP (Work in Progress) on your blog

*****Tag five other writers/bloggers and add their links so we can hop over and meet them.

Ten Interview Questions for the Nest Big Thing:

What is the working title of your book?

I’ve been real busy.  First there was Falling Leaves in Autumn which is out now.

 

Right now, I’ve submitted one story for a new series I am working on, Midnight and Mayhem.  It is my first foray into paranormal with a sexy vampire.  It is is the editing stage now.

Next on my list is a Christmas Domination tale that will be placed with a very special publishing house (Shara Azod, some of you may know her) I’m working on the plot line now, although I might need to  post some thoughts on my blog to get some feedback.  This one is going to be way way different and outside the box, so stay tuned for that.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

Like any fiction writer, I think a bit of our stories always involve real life scenarios.  Some of us write true to life scenarios and take only a bit of creative license.

What genre does your book fall under?

Romantica? Romance with a little Erotica? Erotic?  I can’t be pigeonholed but you can bet your bottom dollar it will be hot.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

I would love to see Eric Bana play Clark Pinot in Falling Leaves in Autumn..  He is so Clark  and I think I was watching him in an Adam Sandler movie when I came up with the character of Clark.

What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

Never judge a book by its cover.

Will your book be self published or represented by an agency?

I use several publishers but my absolutely favorites are Beautiful Trouble Publishing, Mocha Memoirs Press and Shara Azod Presents.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

That depends on what manuscript I am working on.  I can write one in a week or take several months to draw it out.  For example, my free read, Private Dancer took me a year to write.  So I guess I should say that all depends.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

I think my books are more like movies.  Since I practice safe short writing I try to start with a bang and end with a bang.   So if I were to label my writing style it is like Crash or  Mobsters. 🙂

Who or What inspired you to write this book?

Falling Leaves in Autumn was inspired by life events.  I tried so hard to keep my husband a ‘late night snack’ he just kept getting into my heart and mind and eventually became my husband.

What else about your book might piqué the reader’s interest?


It is written in first person, but the characters do come alive.  I know that is the biggest issue with some who write in first person is getting to know the other characters.

The writers I’m tagging are:

http://sherrodstory.wordpress.com

http://valloryv.wordpress.com

http://roslynhardyholcomb.com/

http://musetracks.wordpress.com

http://liviaellis.com

Tag!

Well That was fun…  I hope everyone can participate.

 

Quick Post Poem – The War (Against the Paper)


The War (Against the Paper)

 

I believe that  white page is staring at me. 

Sitting there, blank and mockingly.

I try to crumple it up, and walk away.

I am still staring at it, by the end of the day.

Writing is seduction of a word, to make it do what you want,

To describe the perfect character, tall, fat or gaunt.

Does the paper know the thought process it takes,

To stain it up with ink, the panic it creates?

I can’t help it though, writing is in my veins,

It is a war against the paper, every day, sun, sleet or rain. 

 

(c) 2012 Nevea Lane

Why Are Free BWWM books Hard to Find


writing
All of this work isn't free

Why Are Free BWWM Books Hard To Find (or How the Internet told on You)…

I love technology.  I’ve been given the title Techy by a select few and here is an example why I love technology, the internet and the right to free speech.   I was checking my WordPress analytic for the search terms people have used to stumble across my blog.  (Savvy, I know, right?)   This one came across my radar today: why are free BWWM books hard to find?   Obviously this was typed in a browser search engine and someone wanted to know why.  I’ll be happy to step up to the plate and answer that question with some bias but with stark honesty.

It depends if you are looking for GOOD free BW/WM books.  Of course the emphasis being on GOOD.  Now, you can go on to Smashwords, Literotica and various other places to find BW/WM stories.  They are all over and you have to ask yourself the question: is it good?  If you want just a ‘story’ there are plenty and they aren’t hard to find.   If you want GOOD, well let me break it down for you why it won’t be free.

We know we are a niche group, and for those of us that band together, we know just how small or large this niche can be while writing.   We know that we are a quiet genre that doesn’t get much exposure except for among ourselves, and what we represent, we want to represent it well.    Let’s say you are getting dressed for the prom, are you going to put on your holed up jeans, a mustard stained t-shirt and flip-flops?   No, you are going to present your best side because it is important to you.   I will only speak for myself, but being ‘good’ in the world of authors these days is hard work.  You have to know your own worth, you have to know your story’s worth and you have to be willing to grind out that manuscript, sit down and write as the muse strikes, not to mention work your job that has nothing to do with writing.  You have to hone your skill, learn vocabulary, research your topic, ferret out facts, learn your characters, get their habits straight, and come up with a story that will compel readers to go beyond page 1.   Not only do you have to know what you are talking about, you also have to make time to write.  I’m  a short story author, and if I could have a nickel every time I heard a story was too short, well, I wouldn’t have to work so much overtime some days to cover my bills.   So not only do we have to make time to write, we have to pour out our character’s heart, our heart and our story into something that won’t get slandered as ‘too short’.  Try writing 9,000 words that string together beautifully and you will see it ain’t a pretty picture or process.  Now, do you expect a free work to be error free and without some grammatical mistakes? No, so we use proofers and beta-readers.  They don’t work for free either.

So after our hard work. our toiling, back-spacing and rewriting until we find a better word for ‘said’, why would we throw it up for free?  We all go to work every day, but wouldn’t one get mad if they asked you to work for free?  I love my job, but seriously, free?    Some of us, myself included, have written plenty of free stories.  We felt like we owed something to our fans, we felt like we needed to ‘give back’.  Guess how we were repaid: plagiarism.  Plagiarism and having our free work lampooned for various reasons.  A free work,  shared out of love for the genre and knowing there isn’t much out there to get your hands on, gets plagiarized,   and some other is making money off of what you put out there in love.   That would be one reason that some of us don’t post free reads anymore.  We find our work repackaged and our name replaced with someone who didn’t write not once sentence in it.   Can you believe that?

Good BW/WM is so hard to come by, true.  It is hard to come by, and it is harder  to please the readers of BW/WM or any other interracial combination you can think because we are picky.  We want a GOOD read.   If you want a GOOD steak, do you really expect someone to be on the street corner giving away 16 oz porterhouse steaks for free?  No you go to a steak house and you pay for what you want.  The same thing with books.    You pay for what you want.

As much as I would love to live a life of leisure and spend the day writing, I can’t.  I’ve got obligations, a mate, a job, a car to pay for… none of which are free.  We’ve been nice, we’ve tried the ‘free’ route and got screwed.

So to the searcher out there looking for free bwwm, there are plenty, but if you want quality, ante up and just buy what you crave.