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1224Newsletter for March, 2013
- Lynne ConnollyMar 1, 2013
So far, so very interesting!
March has crested the horizon, leaving February, and with any luck the snow, behind. It’s really cold over here, but I’m keeping busy planning my trip to the US in April. I’m so looking forward to it! As well as the fun of the RT Convention, I’m visiting Washington, DC and friends in Texas, including the totes amaze Kathryn Falk, who owns RT.
Can’t wait, but in the meantime, I’m getting busy with books. I’ve had another release, ‘Brutally Beautiful,’ the story I was asked to write! When I wrote ‘Stripped Bare,’ I introduced a character called Mick O’Donnell, a brutal gang lord from Liverpool. I never thought anyone but me would be interested in the shaved bald, muscle-shirt and bling-wearing Mick, but boy, was I wrong! So when I decided to write his story, encouraged by the letters I was getting and my editor, I had a problem. How do I make Mick, who runs girls and drugs into Liverpool, into a romance hero?
Simple; make him a poetry professor. So how does a man go from being a ruthless gang leader into a poetry professor? When the East Europeans muscle in on his territory, Mick knows more than his business is in danger, so he liquidates his assets, changes his name and moves to New York, where he hopes they won’t find him.
Of course he finds the love of his life and trouble waiting for him, but only when he’s close to achieving his goal—to become a legitimate US citizen.
There’s only one more book to write in the Symbiotics series, and as usual at the end of a series, I’m sad. I don’t like saying goodbye to characters, but I also don’t like to drag a series on and on when it seems to have come to an end. Some series, like Dept 57, are planned to continue, so that the Department is a world rather than an end in itself. Some are more finite, like Pure Wildfire or Nightstar, but others have possibilities I’ve only just begun to explore.
I’ve also released a backlist book on Amazon. “Laura,” a Regency romance. I loved writing this book, and I’ve gained a lovely review on Amazon. I’ve learned from my self-published friends that to do really well on Amazon I need reviews. I’ve never really bothered asking for them before, but I’d really like to see “Laura” and the other self-published books do really well. So if you’ve read a book and you like it, and you’re in the mood, a review on Amazon would be much appreciated! Do you read self-published books? Do you enjoy them?
I’m glad I don’t have to go completely indie, as some of my brave friends have done. Making the decisions on a number of selected titles is really exciting, and it gives me a chance to spread my wings and try something a bit different, but I’m not sure I’d like to do it all the time.
Nick Taylor, poetry lecturer, used to be Mick O’Donnell, British gang leader. In search of a new life he’s come to New York, and five years later, he’s nearly there. Once he has his citizenship, he can start again. He’s kept clear of trouble, under the radar except for his visits to burlesque club Bared, and it’s there he meets his nemesis. Beautiful, classy, irresistible. Trouble.
Gen has a dead-end job checking citizenship applications but when her boss asks her to check Nick’s credentials she finds herself doing a lot more than that. The burlesque club is just the start. Nick is unlike any professor she’s ever met. They can’t keep their hands off each other, for one thing, even in the university library. Much less in the all-glass room in his apartment. With the rest of New York watching. Maybe. Nick teases her with the total exposure she secretly craves, while always keeping her safe.
But although Nick has left his past behind, he needs to draw on all his resources when Gen finds herself in deep unexpected and deadly trouble. He has to reach out to people he wanted to leave behind. It may end his attempt at a clean start, but if he doesn’t risk all he’s worked for, and perhaps expose himself to the deadly menace still hunting him down after five years, the woman he's grown to love and everything he wants to share with her will die.
eBook ISBN · 978-1-61118-960-5
Publisher ·Loose-Id Publishing
Genre · Contemporary Erotic Romance
Length · Novel
Excitement simmered low in Gen’s body until the moment when she got the door open. The door clicked behind Nick with an inevitability that sounded like a beginning to her. Or an ending. Both in one, perhaps. The short journey had cooled her down, but that just meant from steaming to boiling. She crossed the room, sure-footed in the dark, and clicked on the low light by the bed. The blinding overhead light didn’t seem right in the circumstances.
He barely looked at her place. Studio apartment they called it, which meant one room and a bathroom. All she could afford, but she’d made it as comfortable as she could. She’d opened the futon bed before she went out, in preparation for—what?
“Nice,” he said.
“I didn’t want to share,” she answered, dumping her purse on the nearest surface, the low table by the bed. “This was the alternative.”
“I didn’t mean the apartment.” He took three strides, bringing him to stand directly in front of her.
She swallowed. “I’d offer you coffee or something stronger.”
“Later.” He reached for her.
She lifted her head as her breasts hit the solid wall of his chest, and he bent his head to join their mouths in a kiss. She’d expected devouring, hungry—the way she felt. He touched his lips to hers as he had before, but this time didn’t move away. His mouth commanded hers, and she let him support her, feeling feminine and fragile in a way she rarely experienced. She was five eight, and had done some basic self-defense training, so her muscles weren’t exactly soft and feminine, but whatever she had in muscle power, he had and plenty more.
As he deepened the kiss, slowly exploring her lips before inserting the tip of his tongue just inside her mouth, she recognized leashed power, carefully measured strength. As if he was fully in control of everything he did. He melted her, so she wanted to give him everything and then some.
Oh, fuck, how she wanted him.
He moved his hands, drawing her closer, pressing her breasts against him in an intimate collision of male and female. At the same time, he took advantage of her opened mouth and tasted her fully. He slid his tongue deeper, turning his head to meld their mouths more securely together, taking her from a different angle. Gen recognized a master when she was lucky enough to meet one. This man was a sensei of kissing.
His big hands easily spanned her upper back, and he slid them down to her waist, curving around her hips before returning to graze the sides of her breasts at each side. He took his time, making her feel cherished, caressing her as if he wanted to give her pleasure rather than taking it all for himself. One-night stands could be so selfish, each participant in it for what he or she could get, but this felt more sensitive, more…personal.
He traced the line of her backbone with one finger, then cradled the back of her neck, pushing his fingers into her hair, mussing the carefully tousled style she’d blow-dried it into earlier tonight. So long ago.
His kiss made her forget time, details, anything except his mouth on hers, her hands in his hair, the silky strands sliding between her fingers. She’d closed her eyes at some point, but she opened them when he finished the kiss and drew away—just enough to stare down into her face—and watch as he slid down the zipper on the back of her dress.
“Skin,” he murmured, his voice lower than it had been earlier, with a gravelly rasp that only made him sexier. “I need skin.”
She brought her hands to push up between their bodies so she could get at the buttons of his shirt, not caring that he still wore his jacket. Warm from his body, the quilted silk lining luxurious to her sensitized touch, she wondered if he’d leave it on and take everything else off. He’d look so fucking sexy, he’d melt her where she stood. Or lay.
He watched as she undid the shirt and pushed the fabric aside, allowing access to his chest, sculpted with flat planes of muscle. She purred as she spread her hands wide, encompassing as much of the glorious expanse as she could. Forget everything except this, her instincts told her, and she was only too happy to obey. This man was gorgeous, made of power. The way he was looking at her—as if he’d burn up in her gaze—made her feel special, something that happened too rarely. She tended to melt in a crowd, disappear into the background. Whatever the opposite of charismatic was, she had it. This man had noticed her from the start and made her aware that he was watching her.
He dipped in for another kiss and then drew away reluctantly, their lips clinging until the last second. His smile had more than a hint of wickedness now. “You,” he said, “are wholly gorgeous. May I see the rest of you?”
She stripped out of the remainder of her clothes with more haste than grace, but that was all right because he was doing it too. Only he finished before she did, even though he threw his pants and underwear over a nearby chair instead of dumping them on the floor as she had. He gave a light whistle, the sound sharp and true. “I was right.” He reached for her, settling his hands on her upper arms, and she went. She pressed her body against his and felt his heat against her, his cock hard against her belly, already damp with the evidence of his desire. Such a beautiful size for a cock too. Unable to resist, she reached between their bodies to grasp him. So good, hard underneath the silky softness of his skin. She touched her thumb to his dampness and drew her hand up to her lips, tasting his essence. Salty and masculine. He watched her, his eyes avidly greedy, his mouth partly open. “Oh, you are a wicked one, aren’t you?”
He lifted one hand away, and she saw he’d palmed a condom, presumably from his pants pocket. Seeing it sent relief surging through her, because she had some, but they were probably out of date. Although desperate enough to trust that they were okay, she was nevertheless glad to see he had something better.
He slowly examined her with eyes and hands and mouth. He bent to take a nipple into his mouth, sucked hard, then soothed it with his tongue, flicking it over the tight nub. He didn’t forget the other either, teasing it with one hand, pulling and tweaking before he moved down lower. All she could do was tunnel her hands into his hair and hold on.
He kissed her skin as if worshipping it, lingering at her navel until she wanted to scream, although whether with passion or frustration she wasn’t sure. Liquid heat collected at the top of her thighs, and he knocked her legs apart with a tap of one hand, a demand she obeyed without question.
After sliding his hand up from her ankle, he finally grazed her pussy, and she sighed in relief. He moved his other hand to her waist, holding her up while he examined her. “Pretty,” he said. “Very pretty.”
Gen bit her lip. She hadn’t shaved recently, just kept the area neat and her bikini line clean. She’d have liked to show him something more exotic, since she’d bet he had experience of that, but he seemed to like what he saw. He parted the outer lips with finger and thumb, and she knew he was looking. That knowledge sent her higher, faster. “Good?”
“Oh yes. Really good.”
That purring English accent did her in, and she pressed against his skull, trying to force him to taste her, something she wouldn’t have dreamed of doing with another partner. Gen was a responder rather than an initiator, a residue of shyness remaining, even though she’d lost her virginity a long time ago. Truth was, sex hadn’t played a very important part in her life. Getting off from time to time had worked for her. Not now. Now if she didn’t come, she’d die for sure. He made her feel that way.
He flicked out his tongue and tasted her. Not enough. Had she thought that or said it? Said it, it seemed, because he glanced up at her face. “Demanding woman, aren't you?”
“Yes. Anything. But—“
“The best treats are the ones you have to wait for.” He tasted her again, a longer lick. “Didn’t your mother tell you?”
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Lynne Connolly, author of sophisticated and sensual romance