Last year, at my first RWA conference, by total chance I met this wonderful lady named Lauren. It was totally by accident: we started talking about the merits of self- and traditional-publishing (me self, she traditional) and just…clicked. Come to find out, she was the same Lauren Hawkeye who would be in the Avon FLING anthology with me, and whose roommates I’d sat down with, also out of the blue, and discussed self-publishing.😀 To say it was a small world was an understatement. Since then however, she’s become one of my closest friends (despite the California/Canada divide) and my mentor in all things publishing. So when she asked me to be part of an anthology/boxed set she was putting together, it was a total no-brainer.
And now, a snippet from Ms. Hawkeye’s “Three Little Words”:
“But… really, what do you want?” She tilted her head to the side as she studied me. There was a bit of a spark in her eyes, one that hadn’t been there the night before.
Selfishly, I wondered if I was the one who had put it there, or if it was Mal.
“I want something sweet.” I smirked at her, my stare fastened on her lips. She would be sweet too—sweet everywhere—and I was dying to taste her.
Rolling her eyes at my cheesy line, she reached into the glass display case in front of her and extracted a chocolate chip cookie. Wrapping it in a napkin, she slid it across the counter to me.
“There you go. Something sweet.” This time she smirked right back, and I felt something pull tight in my gut.
I liked the way she didn’t fall for my shit. I liked her.
“Well, that’s a start.” Picking up the cookie, I broke off a small piece. It must have just come out of the oven, because it was still warm.
I took a bite then, as I swallowed, held the remainder up to Adele’s lips.
“My mama always said I needed to share.” I stopped just before the cookie brushed against her lips, the warm chocolate melting over my fingers. “Try it.”
Indecision flickered in the depths of those gorgeous eyes of hers, and then, like she’d had to steel herself to do it, she parted her lips and accepted the bite.
I kept my hand where it was as she swallowed, the slight brushes of her mouth against the tips of my fingers like a million tiny kisses, right on my cock.
I wanted to wrap my fingers in her hair, to pull her to her knees until that became a reality. Better yet, I’d like to fall to my knees, to smear warm chocolate over the lips of her sex, then take my time licking it off.
When her tongue darted from her lips and passed over the length of my thumb, my breath hitched in with surprise, and my cock thickened. Looking down at her, I was certain she could see all of the dirty things I wanted to do to her, reflected in my eyes.
I hoped she could.
“And what was that for?” I was surprised to find that my voice had gone low and husky. I was Dorian Marshall. I’d sung in front of countless people, had been kissed and licked and stroked by a lot of girls.
Nothing had ever felt as erotic as that little lick from Adele’s tongue.
“You had some chocolate there.” That twinkle was back in her eyes, and her lips curled in a shy but definitely mischievous smile. “It’s my job to make sure the shop stays clean.”
I growled; I couldn’t help it.
This girl was far beyond gorgeous, far past hot or enticing.
She was bloody dangerous.