Combustible Couples

Chemistry. I love it when the byplay between two people becomes combustible. One of my favorite things to read and write is banter. Sexy, playful, sharp-edged dialogue snares me every time. I had the best time writing the first draft of my April 2016 release, FLIP THIS LOVE (Coastal Heat #2), for this very reason.

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I took one cocky, brash real estate magnate from the wrong side of the tracks and match him up with a down and out steel magnolia and the sparks flew. Here’s a hint of the chemical reaction that takes place when you mix a dose of Laney Tarrington with a splash of Harley Cade:

“That’s it. Suck, sugar.”

The husky timbre of Harley’s voice sent shivers down Laney’s spine. One warm hand slid from her shoulder to her back. The tips of his fingers dug into the valley of her spine. He could nearly span her waist. Her nipples puckered when he slipped his hand into her hair. Oh, how she wished she’d worn it up. She loved the feel of him skin on skin and almost wept with relief when he wrapped his big, broad palm around her nape. Heat seeped into the taut muscles of her neck. A thin stream of hot moisture escaped the corner of her mouth and trickled down her chin.

“Oh, yeah. Suck harder.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d said those words to her. God help her, she knew it wouldn’t be the last. She was weak. A quivering mass of happy, hurt, and oh-please-touch-me-again. But she needed to toughen up. She had to be on her guard. The man was as insidious as the kudzu that crept into her mother’s flower garden.

Laney pulled the spent crawfish shell from her mouth and dropped it onto the butcher paper in front of her. Fingers tangled in her hair and tugged lightly, a tiny lightning bolt of white-hot desire streaked straight through her. She looked up in time to see Harley flash old Mrs. Hillbury a dimpling smile and commandeer the folding chair beside hers.

“Evenin’, Delaney.”

Scrambling to assemble her thoughts, Laney turned away from Harley’s choir-boy-gone-bad grin and searched the crowd. She sure could use a swallow of the cold beers her friend Brooke had gone to fetch for them, but her trusty pal was nowhere to be seen. Of course. Laney was on her own. She ought to be used to it by now. She should be a professional when it came to rebuffing this man’s advances. She only needed to tap into the sass. No better way to keep a man dancing on the string than to let him think he had half a chance. But only half.

The first time Harley Cade asked her out, Laney Tarrington laughed in his face. Then she locked herself in the ladies’ room and did a happy dance. The second time, she mocked him mercilessly. To his face. Perverse thing he was, Harley seemed to enjoy her abuse. So much so, she lay awake into the wee small hours plotting ways to entice him.

The third time he asked her out, Harley gave up any pretense of acting like a gentleman. He leaned in close, and right there, in the middle of the Saints Preserve Us fundraiser for their alma mater, St. Patrick’s Academy, in a voice barely above a whisper, he told her all the things he wanted to do to her. With her. For her.

In graphic detail. In language most Southern men would never consider using with a lady.

She almost cracked. How the hell was any red-blooded American woman supposed to resist him? Didn’t hurt that the man was built like some kind of old-time mafia muscle and sported a pair of dimples deep enough to bury a body.

But she had resisted.

She resisted the fourth, fifth, and sixth times, too. The seventh time got her. Lucky number seven. Oh, God, had it been lucky. She took him back to the tiny apartment she kept in her parents’ carriage house and let him have his wicked way with her. Unyielding as she might have been at first, Laney had to admit the man lived up to the hype.

And then the son of a bitch up and left town the next day.

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Hee! I might not have been a big fan of science class in school, but Harley and Laney have the kind of chemistry that I love. Who are some of your favorite combustible couples? Comment below and I’ll gift you with a digital copy of the first book in my Coastal Heat series, GOING DEEP!

Starting Down the Road to Publication

Paintings of historical heroes are never quite as sexy as they are in the books.

I’ll be honest, my road to publication has been relatively short and bump-free…and as such pretty uninteresting. But where it began might be a little different to most, and is certainly pretty funny, so I thought I’d share that for … Continue reading