Yes, you read that right. Another new release. This one is short, a story I wanted to tell. It’s emotional, very sexual, and all one scene. There’s depth and angst and the need to grow up.
There was a line in a movie, The Expendables. The first one. Jason Statham has a scene with a girl he’d been seeing. She was with another man and there are things said, powerful emotions, especially from him that tugged at me. He makes a comment in another scene “I was worth it”. That grabbed my gut and the wheels started spinning.
A man you adore, you love, you crave with every beat of your heart, leaves for who knows how long, for who knows where, doing who knows what… Is he worth waiting for? Is he worth it? That’s what Wait For Me is about.
Sometimes that’s all it takes. One line. One word. One look. And my fingers and mind are off to the races, so to speak…
But will readers like it? I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. Do I care? Yes, I do, but at the same time, I have no expectations. The story is what it is. And I have tried to practice what I preach in the realm of reading. I want to enjoy the books I’m reading, but I’m also trying not to see too much, not to expect more than what the book is. I find that takes a whole lot of pressure off and does allow for more enjoyment. Of course, that’s not to say that there aren’t books I approach with this attitude that don’t disappointment and in the end leave me thinking “WTF was that?” but for the most part, it works.
When I wrote Wait For Me, that’s what I had in my head too. No expectations beyond the story I needed and wanted to tell. I kept fiddling with it. I kept adding to and taking away from. I kept trying to see something different, but in the end, it is what it is and I think that’s likely the healthy approach to it, to all books. It is what it is. In hindsight, they can always be better. They can always be something more. They can always morph and change and even become something completely different than we as authors intended them to be when we first started out… However, the trick is to let go and move on. Write the book we intend to write and let the readers have it. If they love it, great. If they don’t, that’s great too. We’ve moved on. We’ve learned. And we hope they’ll like the next one. (the blog WarriorWriters helped me see this)
Occasionally, there’s a hit. Occasionally, there’s one that we hit out of the ballpark without ever imagining that we could. Those are special. Rare. And make all the ones that were hit and miss inbetween, worth it.
Melody Ashford has been in love with Vinny since she was sixteen. He told her to wait, come back to him when she was legal. Two years later she crawled into his bed and never wanted to crawl out. They spent one blissful summer together, before he left for boot camp and a life in the military.
Vinny comes back to their little South Carolina town as often as he can, then leaves again for parts unknown. The heartache when he departs takes its toll and Melody passes the time with work, friends, and casual companionship from men she’s known all her life.
If Vin were a better man he’d set her free. But it would kill him to let go of the one thing more precious than life…
Their love is volatile, and full of passion. No one has ever touched Melody the way Vinny does, but he’s never said the words, never asked the question that would ensure no one else ever had the right. He’s got secrets and missions he can’t share, and she’s got dreams of a life with him in her bed every night. Can they put both aside and simply love one another until the time is right, or is his request too little too late?
What about you? What kind of expectations do you have going into reading or writing a book? Do you have any expectations at all?
Nothing like a new little feature, huh? Temptation Tuesday, tempting you with snippets, the not-safe-for-work kind of snippets, the not for minor eyes snippets from WIPs I’m working on…
“For the best is not a good enough answer,” she insisted.
If she had the willpower, she’d walk away from Vin and head back to town, but she didn’t. She was willing to fight for him, for them, for herself and for what she wanted most. To be with Vin. That was all she ever wanted, from the first glimpse of him years ago, she’d only wanted him. If there was kismet or soul mates or Prince Charmings, he was hers. He wasn’t perfect and he sure as hell wasn’t easy, but he held her heart and she knew she’d never get it back.
“What do you want me to say, Mel?” It was one of the few times she’d ever heard a plea in his voice. And he used his nickname for her which touched her even more. He stood across the room from her, daring her to leave, daring her to stay. She stared him down, refusing to give an inch even though her insides were quaking. He knew why she was there and why she couldn’t leave. “You really want an answer to your questions? Fine.” His voice rose, louder with each subsequent word. He pushed away from the bench and stalked toward her. Black denim rode low on his hips and a gray sleeveless shirt hung loose on his upper body. Unlaced combat boots clomped on the sawdust-covered wood-plank floor beneath his feet, and as he got closer, she could smell grease, dirt, grass, and faint traces of metal. The chain he wore around his neck, his dog tags… He was never without them. He had to keep his hair cut military short and the heated look in his eyes kept her rooted to the spot.
“Uh, Vin, I…” What the hell was she going to say? She had his attention, just as she’d wanted when she burst in on him, and she couldn’t back down now or he’d know her for a coward. He scared her and tripped her up but he also turned her on like nobody’s business and melted her heart. She’d been half in love with him since they were kids in school. She’d started missing him the day he’d enlisted in the Army and she’d cried for days after he left for boot camp.
From then on, each time he came home and each time he left, she was a broken mess. This time wouldn’t be any different, but when she’d heard he was home, she couldn’t stay away. When it came to him, self-preservation wasn’t part of her vocabulary.
“No.” The one word was curt, and somehow even shorter than the two letters that made it up. She wasn’t sure what the no was in reference to, but she closed her lips tight. He was a formidable man, and though he never physically hurt her, never would cause her harm, he damn sure excited her.
He stopped in front of her. Up close, she could see he had fresh scars that hadn’t been there the last time he’d been home. His nose had been broken again, too. Ugly scratches and scrapes slashed the side of his neck along with a few jagged cuts leading to his collarbone. She’d even go so far as to bet her next paycheck that he had a new bullet wound or two as well.
“Vinny,” she whispered helplessly. She didn’t know what else to say or do. He was silent as he loomed over her, gazing down with unblinking eyes. She reached out with a trembling hand, and with that lightning-quick reflex she had reluctantly admired earlier, he had her arm in a vise grip and her body slung over his shoulder. “Vin,” she protested, albeit weakly. “Put me down.”
He kicked the workshop door closed and walked with unhurried, measured strides back to the workbench. “Nope.”
“This is ridiculous,” she said into his back. “You can’t just go hauling women around like this.” Though honestly, she got a secret thrill when he manhandled her. It made her feel protected, cared for. Most women she knew would probably think it barbaric, and maybe it was, but it was one of his traits she loved most. She liked his He-Man strength and way of overpowering others. He was a physical man, strong and unbending. It was what had drawn her to him all those years ago and part of what kept her panting after him now.
“I don’t haul women around like this. I haul you around like this.” He set her down on the workbench, but not before he gave her ass a hard, stinging swat. “There’s a difference. And don’t think I don’t know how much you like it.”
“Because it’s me and you,” he answered with finality, and bracketed her between his arms. “I can smell your pretty pussy when you’re over my shoulder, too. Did you know that? I know it gets you all kinds of hot when I do shit like that.”
Well, that shut her up. Figures he would know. “You’re crude.” It wasn’t much of a retort but it was all she had. The quirk of his lips told her it was on the weak side as well. She started to cross her arms over her chest but he stayed the motion. Most women would likely be embarrassed if a man said that to them, but she knew better than to try and play that trick. She liked it too much and he wouldn’t believe her if she tried to deny it.
“You like me crude. Now, do you want me to answer your questions about my comings and goings, or do you want me to let you go? I won’t hold you against your will, but I won’t let you run if what you really want is to stay.”
“Answer,” she whispered. And then…he started unbuttoning her shirt. Soft sleeveless denim and tiny white buttons slipped through his dirt-crusted fingers. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Vin. You don’t need to undress me.”
“You want answers, you abide by my rules.”
“But how can I do that if I don’t know the rules?”
He lifted his gaze and raised his brow. “Really? You don’t know the rules? After all the years we’ve known each other? All the years we’ve been screwing, fucking, and loving? That’s the card you’re gonna play?”
Fortunately or unfortunately, she did know the rules. She knew all the rules. She’d come to him, after all. She knew exactly what would happen the moment they so much as breathed the same air. That didn’t mean she couldn’t try being a little dumb in the hopes that her heart didn’t get broken again. “Stop teasing me,” she said with a conviction she didn’t feel.
“Not teasing, but I believe I’ll need to remind you.” He looked down and traced the edges of her bra with his fingers. They stood out against her lightly tanned skin, and his touch left a trail of heat in its path. “So pretty,” he softly admired. “I’ve always loved how you look in lace and cotton, baby. It’s real and gentle and feminine. It’s fucking sexy in a way satin and silk never could be. You’re a sweet country girl and it fits you. I absolutely love it. But,” he shook his head sadly, “it has to go.”
Without sparing it a second thought, Vin had a pair of wicked-looking clippers in his hand and snipped through the underwire and fabric. He lifted the cups away, caught her breasts in his hands and his thumbs went immediately to her nipples. In an instant, her clit twitched and her hips bucked as she orgasmed.
“Primed and ready. Damn, girl. Still just a flick of a finger can get you off.”
“You,” she breathed, heavy and hard. She hadn’t even known she was ready. Willing, yes. But not ready. She should have known though. All it took was one small, well-placed touch from him and she was wet, aching, and orgasmic.
Mel nodded and licked at her lips with a tongue suddenly dry. “Always you, goddammit.”
Vin smiled. “Seems to be your favorite word today.” He leaned in for a kiss that Mel met eagerly. God, she’d missed his kiss, the taste of his lips and the swipe of his tongue. She’d happily drink from him but when she joined in, aching for a deeper kiss, he moved on from her lips, down across her jaw. Her throat was next where he stopped to suck at the skin in the hollow at the base. His thumbs still rasped across her nipples, but when his mouth replaced one of them, she bucked again.
Orgasms in such close proximity to one another usually weren’t her forte, but with Vin, anything was possible where her body was concerned. He could command and control her reactions with little more than a look or the slightest touch. She might as well say yes now and get it over with. Anything he might do to her, want or need from her, she would give.
Only thing was, he already knew that.
Wait For Me is a short story and will be available at the end of May.
I’ll be working on several WIPs this week. Trying to finish two and working on something new, so sorta new.
I don’t have contracts on books that aren’t written so I tend to work on more than one, trying to get ahead a little bit and ease the time I’ll have to wait for word back from editors. I do have my own deadlines, but I have a very hard time kicking my own ass into keeping them.
And as discussed before, music plays a huge part in my writing and one of the ways I’m able to switch between WIPs like I am, is largely because of the music I listen to for each one and the mood the different genres can put me in.
The books for this week are Slide Down On Me, The Cupcake Cowboy (y’all will be getting more information on him soon), and Wait For Me… Music selections for the really sexed up stories I write are easier sometimes. Hard rockin’, sexed up music is what I go for… There’s also a lot of 80’s glam mixed in with those.
To get me in the mood for writing on The Cupcake Cowboy, I listen to some Kip Moore, first thing…
Slide Down On Me requires a different sound… I know many people don’t like Nickelback but they have incredibly suggestive and not at all subtle lyrics that really work for some of the feelings I’m trying to evoke between my characters…
Wait For Me is coming soon to an e-tailer near your mouse/phone/tablet/e-reader. I, along with the editor, are trying to work out some of the kinks in the storyline. But it has a deeply emotional feel to it and it required something a little different as well, and something darker…
It’s hard for me to embrace some of the newer music though I constantly scour for the feelings I’m looking for, the lyrics I can relate to or that a character I would write could relate to. But I’m always on the look-out… I’m always listening for something that captures me.
What is your go to music for sex? For pain? For happiness?