A Hot Man and a Quickie ~ Too Bad It Wasn't His C*ck

The hot man: 

Nice view isn't it? You're welcome. <grin>

Places to stalk romance cover model John Quinlan:

http://irishjohnquinlan.blogspot.com/

http://www.johnquinlan.org/

http://twitter.com/johnjquinlan

The quickie: (excerpt from CC #2, untitled)

His wife had perfect lips. They’d never looked better than they did at this moment, rounded into a perfect oval as she climaxed. Her swaying breasts were perfect as well, their motion reflecting the rhythm of the hard cock pistoning into her.

Too bad it wasn't his cock, but those were his lips, his breasts, and for that matter, his nose. J.J. Winters leaned against the opened door frame, waiting for Mallory to notice him. Shouldn't be long now. Her young stud was starting to grunt and groan and he’d lost his smooth stroke.

J.J. tried to care. He figured he should feel a lot of things he no longer felt, and not just about his wayward wife. The gleaming brass headboard called up a long-buried memory of his older brother’s sports trophies, the ones his mother displayed on her mantelpiece, pointing them out to any visitor unfortunate enough to darken the door of her south Boston home.

He was a long way from Boston. A long way from the pimple-faced, painfully shy bookworm his mother mostly ignored. He no longer had acne and he’d lost the frail physique that had kept him on the sidelines while his brother lettered in three sports.

His brother was a pipe fitter and lived about four blocks from their mother, while J.J. was a plastic surgeon with a surgical suite adjacent to Emory University Hospital. Apparently, his accomplishments weren't enough for Mallory. 

*~*~*~*~*

News:
Not only will Breaking Glass be available tomorrow on Amazon, but I finally have the rights to the De Marco series back, so here's a peek at the new covers.

Thanks for dropping in. Have a great week!  

A Hot Man and a Quickie ~ 'Baseball' Means 'No'?

The hot man:

While I do enjoy a good game of football, I'd love to persuade gorgeous romance cover model John Quinlan to pick up a baseball bat for his next shoot. Perhaps that's because I have baseball on the brain right now. Come on, Opening Day! 

Places to stalk John:

http://irishjohnquinlan.blogspot.com/

http://www.johnquinlan.org/

http://twitter.com/johnjquinlan

Baseball  made an appearance in my excerpt today,too:

The quickie: (excerpt from Forceful Negotiations, Carmine Club V.1)

What's that? Oh, yeah, I did change this cover again.  (blush) This is the final version, pinkie swear. 

Jane merely smiled and pressed her palms to her knees, locking her elbows. “You understand this is role play, Cameron?”

“I understand no means no.” The frost in his tone should have painted her office walls whiter than that damn ballroom. He stared over her shoulder, refusing to look at the woman, though he felt her scrutiny. Instead, he looked at the neat row of her diplomas, framed in black. The wall behind them was painted dark beige or light brown. He couldn't decide what to call the color. He did know what to call the obscenity written on the paper she wouldn't take from him. Rape. How many times had he promised a jury no woman had ever asked to be raped?

“In this case, ‘baseball’ means ‘no’.” Jane’s statement sounded so ludicrous, he turned to look at her. “That’s her safe word, the word that causes all activity to cease immediately, no matter what may be happening. She wants this, Cameron. It’s her fantasy.” Jane leaned forward so abruptly her glasses slipped down her nose. She laid her hand on his knee. “Cam, you went into that ballroom. You picked her. You touched her, maybe even intimately. A connection was formed. Despite the titillating idea of illicit sex, what happens here is quite different. These women bare themselves so they can get some sexual healing.”

Looking away from her beseeching eyes, Cam narrowed his gaze on the row of diplomas again. “Then she needs a shrink.”

“No, what she needs is for you to get in touch with that man you've muted, the less civilized one lurking inside.” 

Her voice. Dear God, Aphrodite’s voice came from the throat of this plain woman. It was like audible sex. He didn't want to listen, but her words seemed to penetrate his brain.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Speaking of baseball, starting April 1, I'll be writing a novel in

 weekly installments, right here on my blog. Guarding the Line 

is a paranormal baseball romance. How's that for genre-

bending? You can read the premise here. 

Thanks for dropping in! See you next week, when hopefully, I'll

 be announcing the release of Breaking Glass.

A Hot Man and a Quickie ~ How Do You Ask For A Menage, Anyway?

The hot man:

Enjoy the weekly peek at romance cover model John Quinlan.  Something about that unbuttoned white dress shirt just does it for me. How about you?

http://irishjohnquinlan.blogspot.com/

http://www.johnquinlan.org/

http://twitter.com/johnjquinlan

The Quickie:

...is from the Carmine Club prequel, Breaking Glass, which now has a cover and is off to the editor. 

"I don't know what else to say, but I've gotta get Jill back. I've thought about this all night. I'm not insecure about much, but Jillian's my world." Dylan swiped at his face again and raked his nails along his jaw. “If she needs this…. Will you help me give Jill her fantasy?”

“My turn?” Went sat up and unlaced his fingers. Dylan nodded, a difficult feat because his heart was wedged in his throat. Dropping his hands to the edge of his desk, Went drummed his index fingers momentarily. "This won’t come as any big shock to you, but the idea of saying ‘I love you’ to a woman scares the ever-lovin’ hell outta me. I don’t have time to make partner and cure my fear of intimacy. But that night at the festival, when I walked up on you with Jill and she said ‘I want him too’, it hit me how perfect that could be." Swiping at a speck of dust Dylan couldn't see, he added, "You've known me since we were twelve, dude. I'm the last man on Earth you'd need to worry about taking your woman. But…."

Dylan only stared across the desk. Was Went saying ‘yes’, or leading up to ‘hell, no’? His heart stuttered. The rest of his plans hinged on his friend’s agreement. Finding another man was out of the question. Teague had been right. Went was the only man he’d trust. Jill wouldn't believe words, not after last night, but if he could prove—

"But goddammit, I'm sick of serial fucking. It just seemed like… like she wanted it… the three of us… that might be an outside-the-box solution." Shifting in his seat, Went looked about as miserable as Dylan had felt until sometime around sunrise, when he stepped outside to stretch his legs and realized he could fix everything. All he had to do was break something first—tradition. "That’s why I kissed her. But if it wasn't something you were into…. That’s what I shouldn't have to tell you. I’d never lay a hand on her without y—"

Dylan held up a hand. He’d known that all along. During the dark, silent days last August, when Jill asked for a spot to put up a studio just before they split up, he showed her several of his properties, but quoted a monthly price for the building next door at less than half the mortgage payment, to see if the pair hooked up. Joe was right; Jill and Went hadn't so much as gotten donuts and coffee together. He’d have heard about it if they had. "I'm sure I love her. I'm sure she wants the two of us at once. I don’t think I'll get her back any other way." Dylan lowered his eyes to the carpet and dragged his nails along the worn seams of his work jeans. "I couldn't say this to anyone but you. We've been friends since the sixth grade, but hell, all I could think was, what if she likes your equipment better than mine?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

 I'll be posting a weekly chapter of a new story every week, starting April 1. Read the blurb for Guarding the Line here. 

Thanks for dropping in. Have a great week! 

A Hot Man and a Quickie ~ Golf Isn't the Game Played at Carmine Club

It's been a busy week for me. Edits came back for Forceful Negotiations, I'm putting the finishing touches on Always Kiss Me Last, and in my spare time I worked on a blog makeover and designed a new logo. 

Speaking of graphics, I have no idea how many covers I've made for this series, but the image on the left-hand side is the final cover art. Yes, I know what you're thinking, "Another 'final' one, Eden?" but it's a woman's prerogative to change her mind and this time, I'm seriously done.

The Hot Man:

I'm almost certain I'll be using this shot of model John Quinlan for the cover of the third Carmine Club story. You may stalk John at the following locations:

http://irishjohnquinlan.blogspot.com/

http://www.johnquinlan.org/

http://twitter.com/johnjquinlan

The Quickie:  (excerpt from Carmine Club No. 01, Forceful Negotiations)

Why do women want men who aren’t capable of love?

Never again, Cam vowed, staring at the litter of makeup pots and pencils, old photos of people he didn’t know, half-filled perfume bottles, and romance novels. No more women who can’t acknowledge their own worth. The next time he met a woman who needed saving he was gonna leave to slay her own dragons and run like hell in the opposite direction. Squatting, he picked up a pot of something pink, turning it in his fingers. Compliments, flowers, helping her polish her resume to look for a better job, all the time spent trying to boost Anna’s self-confidence was like the makeup. The effect came off the next time she showered.

Tossing bits of Anna into a garbage bag, Cam knew the echo in his heart meant little. They’d been done for over a year. His thoughts veered to the coming weekend. His boss had extended an invitation to join his club. A southern gentleman and native of Savannah, Scott always couched his orders as invitations. Dreading endless weekend rounds of golf, Cam had been delighted to learn the place wasn’t the country club he’d expected. He turned Scott’s explanation over in his mind.

Carmine Club caters to the sexual fantasies of women, Cameron. The ultimate high any man can achieve is gratifyin’ a woman sexual desires, whatever they may be. Knowing you can satisfy any woman, anytime, anywhere, no matter what she needs, is a power trip unlike any other. It’s not that hard for us to get off, but women… ah, they’re marvelously complex little things. I believe any man who knows he can do that will exhibit that confidence in his day-to-day tasks. This club provides the ideal place for learning what makes women tick. And if you can understand women, you can understand any damn thing. Gentlemen elected to join this exclusive fraternity are honor-bound to make the ladies’ fantasies come true, without judgment.

Despite his vow, a sexual suit of armor sounded intriguing. Cam’s footsteps echoed in the empty apartment, their sound muted when he stepped into the carpeted hall. Yanking open the discrete door at the end of the corridor, he dropped her things down the garbage chute, letting what remained of his feelings for her follow. Tugging up his sweater sleeve, he ripped off the cotton ball taped to the inside of his elbow and tossed it, too.

A fraternity of men honor-bound to make any sexual fantasy come true. Carmine Club sounded a helluva lot better than any golf club.

Thanks for dropping by. Have a great week!