Final teaser for Afternoon Delight

Setup: Tim and Sarah have a running challenge…and Tim’s finally won one.

He walked to his apartment in the same erotic haze, the spring sunshine a tangible weight on his skin. The city’s air still smelled fresh, not yet tainted with summer’s heat of exhaust, rubber, asphalt, garbage, and eight million people. He inhaled. Warm buns from the bakery on the corner. The trees, stressed as they were by not enough light and polluted air, were bursting from bud to leaf. He could smell that, too. Not even the cabbage and onions simmering on his downstairs neighbor’s stove could eradicate the promise of sunshine and life.

He carried around plenty, the weight of responsibility for his patients the heaviest burden, the weight of training Casey additional and necessary. He was happy to carry it; passing on knowledge was a critical part of the job. But just like good stress was still stress, any responsibility he shouldered added weight. But the sunshine, like Sarah, somehow lightened the burden.

“Get a grip, Cannon,” he muttered. “Next you’ll be composing poetry to the birds.”

His phone buzzed. He pulled it from his cargo pants pocket and looked at it.

I’ll be there by four.

Finally, the end was in sight. He wanted her to know what to expect, so he sent her a quick response, just to set the mood. Be ready to pay up.

I hope you enjoyed this last teaser…the whole book is on sale tomorrow! 🙂

Afternoon Delight teaser: All Dialogue

“You are an absolutely rotten loser.”

“I am not. I just don’t concede defeat,” he said, and kissed her again.

“You’re touching me.”

“I’m kissing you. You didn’t say I couldn’t kiss you.”

“Your skin is touching my skin.”

He kissed her heated cheek, then her ear. “Darlin’, if we were skin to skin right now, you wouldn’t be arguing semantics with me.”

Happy Thursday, everyone… 🙂

Hump day Afternoon Delight teaser

Another excerpt from Afternoon Delight, out Tuesday, 9/16/2014 from Berkley Intermix!

She shooed him back to the table, waited until he sat down, then set the plate in front of him. “Individual chocolate lava cakes,” she announced.

The flavors in the first mouthful spread over his tongue, hot and cool and sweet and tart all at once, just hot enough to make him respect it. The dish rewarded his attention with a sensory explosion unlike any in his previous experience. It smelled like heaven, tasted like a dream, looked like something out of a magazine. He could hear it calling his name.

Without thinking it through, he reached out and scooped a bit of chocolate, cream, and raspberry juice onto his fingertip, then extended it to her. She smiled, leaned forward, and licked it off one cat stroke at a time. He stopped breathing.

“You were holding back with the beater,” he said when she’d finished.

“I don’t mix sex and cooking,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ll do neither well, when both should be done to the absolute best of my ability.” She took another mouthful of the dessert. “And savored,” she said when she’d swallowed.


“Never. Much of what I make doesn’t respond well to my being distracted. Also, it’s really unhygienic for the kitchen, and the list of foodstuffs that shouldn’t be introduced to a woman’s private parts is actually quite long.”

He burst out laughing.

“You can’t tell me you don’t see all kinds of weird stuff.”

“The ER sees more vegetables in awkward places than I do, but every so often we get dispatched to cut someone out of a pair of handcuffs.”

“Always try the key first,” she said, then scraped the last bit of torte off her plate and ate it.


She cocked her head and looked at him. “Still want to stick around?”

A little more Afternoon Delight

When a competitive foodie and an ultra-competitive paramedic get together, winning is everything….

He set his wine on the counter and crossed the kitchen. “I have the ultimate respect for you after what you did on Wednesday,” he said, purposefully pitching his voice low and rough, waiting for her response. He knew so little about what turned her on, but that did, his honest reaction to the memory of what she’d done to him. He was a little aroused and a little embarrassed and a whole lot desperate to do it again.

She’d done all the heavy lifting last time, so it was a relief to brace his forearms on the stove’s hood and explore the curve of her ear, using only his lips until she shuddered and her eyelids drooped. He gently traced the inner whorl with his tongue, then nipped less gently at her lobe, noting that her hand, automatically stirring something thick and yellow, halted entirely at the use of his teeth. She liked the edge, but then again, he already knew that.

“You’re playing dirty,” she said.

“This surprises you?” he murmured into her hair. “I thought you were sharper than that.”

“I’m not surprised,” she said. Her hand hovered dangerously close to the hot pot, so he slid his fingers along her forearm and guided it to the counter. “I’m letting you know I see what you’re doing.”

Wild  curls tickled his cheek as he smiled. “What am I doing?”

“You’re looking down my shirt, for one.”

He outright laughed. “I am. I didn’t see anything last time.”

“You certainly did,” she said.

“All right, I didn’t see enough.”

“And you’re trying to seduce me out of taking a forfeit.”

“Right again,” he said. He unfastened the knitted belt of her sweater and opened the fabric. It was warm to the touch, perhaps from the heat of the stove, but more likely from the heat of her body, radiating like the scent of the sauce and whatever grain was slowly bubbling at the back of the stove.

“Hmm,” she said as he rested his hands on her rib cage, just below her breasts. “What will you give me in exchange for releasing you from our agreement?”


Here’s a little something to spice up your afternoon….

That was easy.

Six feet and at least three inches of tall, brooding blond man leaned against the counter of the Citibank and invited her over. For sex.

Sarah remembered her last long, coherent conversation with Aunt Joan, near the end of her two-year battle with ovarian cancer. It’s not long now. Promise me, promise me when I’m gone, you’ll go back to the way you were. You’ve given up so much of your life to take care of me. It’s not the kind of challenge a twenty-five-year-old woman should take on. Do something just for you.

Moving from San Francisco to New York was the first step. Opening the food truck with Trish was the second. The next thing she’d like to do, just for herself, had just invited her over for an afternoon delight.

Enjoy the rest of your day, and stay tuned for more teasers from AFTERNOON DELIGHT, out Sept 16…

Excerpt Tuesday – BREATH ON EMBERS

BREATH ON EMBERS releases next Monday, December 3, 2012. In the following scene, Thea and Ronan have just finished checking out the Macy’s Christmas windows and are walking over to Saks 5th Avenue when they get distracted by a lingerie shop window…

A flash of red in a dimly lit window caught Thea’s eye; her steps slowed and by default, Ronan slowed with her. The mannequin wore a red silk robe stitched with intricate patterns that covered her from her chin to her wrists and ankles. Toggle fasteners held the robe closed to mid-thigh, where her white hand held the skirt open, revealing rich brown velvet inside.

“Oh, that’s gorgeous,” Thea breathed.

She pulled on the door handle but the lock held. The word Idylle was etched in ornate script on the lower right-hand corner of the window, next to a silver door adorned only with a placard listing a phone number. Ronan pulled out his phone and keyed in the number. It rang twice, then a woman answered.

“Idylle,” she said, giving the word a French lilt.

“Are you open?” Ronan asked.

“Yes,” she said. A second later the buzzer sounded on the door. Ronan opened it for Thea and followed her up the stairs to the second floor.

The interior of the shop was warm, dim and quiet. It expanded to fill the length of the row building, with polished hardwood floors and walls painted a metallic silver. Mannequins modeled more elaborate ensembles. One wore a red silk bustier and a pair of tight jeans; the next figure wore the same bustier but with a matching silk thong. A sheer green nightgown trimmed in paler green velvet draped another. Columns of wooden cubes rose behind tables displaying folded items, and more cubes along the walls held women’s undergarments. A trunk by the counter held neatly folded robes like the one displayed in the street window. At the back of the space, three six-panel doors lined the end of the long room. A brass hook on the doors held an oval sign turned to Unoccupied, so Ronan assumed those were the dressing rooms. The woman behind the counter gave them a welcoming smile then went back to her work.

Words weren’t necessary. The shop spoke for itself.

Beside him Thea pushed back her fur-trimmed hood, exposing her blond, tumbled hair. Her cheeks were pink from the cold air, her full lips slightly parted with amused fascination. “This city never fails to surprise me,” she said.

“You never know what’s behind a door. Let’s do some shopping,” he murmured in her ear.

Amusement danced in her slate-gray eyes. “Are you trying to tell me my basic black panties ruined the Santa’s helper outfit?”

“Oh yeah,” he said as he tugged off his hat. “It was horrible. Couldn’t you tell by the way I crawled all over you then lost it like a teenager?”

One corner of her mouth lifted. “I was a little uncomfortable flitting around the Upper East Side in that outfit and a thong. Anyway, you weren’t supposed to see them. You were supposed to take the blow job and send me off into the night.”

He wasn’t going to apologize for wanting more from Thea than anonymous physical release. “I’m difficult like that.”

“Yes, you are,” she replied. Some of the teasing had gone out of the banter, and to cover the new tone humming in the air she looked around the shop. “What do you like?”

“You want me to pick it out?”

“A place like this isn’t for me,” she said archly. “I’d never buy underwear here unless I was doing it for you. It’s meant to be worn for five minutes, then removed.”

“With my teeth,” he said. She actually giggled at that. He lifted his hand to her jawline, then brushed his thumb over her lips. Blood rushed to the surface of her skin, and her tongue flicked out to touch his skin. “Pick out something you think I’d like,” he said.

Read another excerpt and preorder from the retailer of your choice here!