The official publication date for DOUBLE DARE is October 3rd, but it’s already shipping from several online sources so I guess it has happened - Double Dare is out! My first erotic romance novel! I couldn't be happier. Here's the blurb and an excerpt:
This is the daring debut of a cutting-edge voice in contemporary erotic fiction. Her short stories have seduced readers in more than 30 international anthologies. This, her first novel, is twice as hot. She is Abby Douglas, an investment advisor who has enticed many men. No commitments, no regrets, no games. Then she meets a dangerously sexy stranger in the elevator of her office building - and suddenly she's submitting to the kind of raw fantasies no respectable businesswoman should ever consider. He is club owner Zac Bordino, stunned to find such a receptive partner between floors. But Abby's also the brains behind his company's investments, and she doesn't even know it. Now Zac isn't sure what to tell Abby first - his growing feelings for her, or their secret connection. Either way, from London to Paris, it's business and pleasure for the both of them.
Excerpt:
Outside, the evening was still warm, balmy, the sky darkening into a drape of dense, blue-black velvet. Zac led her to a taxi rank a few minutes walk away, but she barely noticed the time or the distance. She was aware most of all of his presence, his arm around her shoulders and the promise of passion in his eyes.
He gave the driver an address then turned to her, quickly leaning into her for a deep, lingering kiss. Her body trembled beneath his hands, desire an urgent need that unsettled her every fiber. Drawing back, he stared at her, his face in shadow, his mood inscrutable.
“Is it far?”
“No. Not in this traffic.”
She chuckled, low. It was so true of London, a city that lived and breathed with the movement of people as sure as the turn of the tides. Behind him the city lights blurred into one another. A streak of orange, green, blue light, it was too bright, too peopled. She wanted more darkness, the gloom of intimacy — a private arena in which to discover him. Stroking the soft, black leather of his jeans, she felt the firm outline of his thigh beneath. She wanted to see him naked. Through his shirt, his chest was leanly muscled, strong. She breathed his scent, a musky fragrance that said: "I am passion."
He slid his hand against the curve of her abdomen, otherwise as still as a bird of prey watching its target. The lights flickered on his face, revealing the intensity in his expression. With one arm around her back and his hand stroking her stomach, she was captured, but not unwillingly. She barely broke from the spell when they reached their destination.
His apartment was one of several in a beautiful converted mansion-house on the river near Kew. The opposite side of London to where she lived, it was closer to the river and overlooked it. When he led her inside and flicked lights on, she was startled to find it decorated in rich dense colors, starkly juxtaposed to one another, emphasizing the sparse furnishings of the place.
“It’s a bit bare,” he explained. “I’ve just started, it’s an ongoing project...as and when I have time.”
The fact that his home wasn’t properly furnished yet made her smile. So like a man. The reception room held only two sets of bookshelves and a striking dining table and chairs. Stacks of newspapers and books teetered up against the bookshelves, which were empty. It was a true bachelor pad.
“Such lovely rooms,” she murmured. Space was such a premium in London, this felt luxurious. She was surprised. She hadn’t thought about what to expect, but for an arts entrepreneur it kind of fitted the bill. He’d add to it as the business established itself, she supposed.
“It’s a Mackintosh design, isn’t it?” She nodded at the tall, thrusting line of the chairs, the dramatic oval of the head rests.
“Yes, Mackintosh,” he replied. “Do you like it?” His voice was so deep and resonant; every word touched her inside.
“Oh yes, I love his work. The Arts and Crafts movement is fascinating.” She felt her gaze drawn back up to him. He was still the most attractive thing in the room. Her eyes rose across his face and each bone carved itself into her memory.
He nodded and smiled at her.
“Are you a collector?”
“No.” He smiled. “But I know what I like when I see it...and then I do my best to have it.” His eyes swept over her, confirming the inference of his words as he moved closer.
“Oh?” she responded. The tension between them hummed in her ears, speeding along her veins. She felt as if they were moving in a slow dance, inexorably closer and closer.
His fingers stroked her cheek, sliding higher and into her hair. He was brooding, passionate. “You’re an objet d’arte, and I intend to have you.”
Her heart thudded violently. She hooked one finger over his belt. “I’m glad to hear it.”
He lowered his head and brushed his mouth over hers, slowly, subtly, making her lips tremble.
She was wired. Anticipation had built beyond anything she’d experienced before; he was throwing coal on a fire already pumping out way too much heat.
“This time,” he murmured, moving his mouth to her ear, “I want to savor you. I want to take my time with you, enjoy you.” His lips smiled the gentle smile of a classical statue, the secret held in their line.
She had to fight for her breath. The atmosphere between them was charged. A tremor ran through her body, a tremor of expectation and arousal. The flame of desire was reflected in his eyes. Turning her around in his arms, one arm locked across her torso, the other hand on her opposite hip. He held her tight against him, making her remember how it had been the night before, how he’d bent her over and made her watch.
She moved her hips inside his, her eyes closing as she absorbed his total contact. His grip tightened. Lowering his head, he kissed her neck, her shoulder.
“Do you own a bed?” she murmured.
He chuckled, his breath warm against her skin. “Oh, yes.” He moved, freeing her and then resting his arm around her shoulders, drawing her alongside him as he led her from the room.
She had to make a concentrated effort to walk slowly. Her panties were damp between her thighs, her pulse racing, her nipples chaffing against the fabric of her dress.
He led her down the hallway and through a doorway. The bedroom was lit by a tall elegant lamp and housed a large bed with a wrought iron headboard formed into a frenzy of art nouveau swirls. The surface was covered in a black velvet comforter, like a void that invited her to disappear into it.
She turned to him and saw the dark energy simmering in his eyes. “It’s beautiful.”
He gestured at the bed, one corner of his mouth lifted. “It will be, with you on it.”
And with you over me. He looked so good; she could barely wait to have him inside her. Stepping out of her shoes she walked over to the bed, sat down then laid back, her arms moving across the surface.
He shook his head as he looked down at her. “The bed fades into significance. The real beauty is here.” Leaning over her, he stirred the satin across her abdomen, lightly moving it with his fingertips, watching her face.
“It’s a Roland Mouret dress,” she murmured, barely able to speak as darts of sensation shot out from the material moving under his fingers.
He smiled, gazing into the black pool of satin. “Very admirable, but I suspect the beauty that I am referring to lies beneath the dress.”
She sank back into the bed covers, inviting him closer with a pleading glance. “I hope I don’t disappoint.”
Slowly, he began to push the material up from around her legs, exposing her body, caressing her skin with the waves of satin before caressing it with his eyes and then his hands. As his fingers passed over her, from shin to thigh, hipbone to breast, they seemed to draw the breath from her body. She swallowed, reminded herself to breathe. When the material gathered on her breasts she slipped it over her head and then lay back again, her hands moving restlessly in the abandoned pool of black satin above her head.
Staring down at her naked body on the bed, it was as if he had touched her, the heat in his expression was extreme. “You look like a beautiful sacrifice waiting to be offered, waiting to be tasted.”
Her sex clenched, over and again. “Please don’t make me wait any longer,” she begged.
And now you don't have to :-) DOUBLE DARE is available from Amazon, Amazon UK , WHSmiths UK and Barnes and Noble online.
