Then the calm slipped in, soothing him like the faint brush of wings or the puff of a gentle breeze after a violent storm.
In my holiday novella, Naughty or Nice, Olivia has just finished work on Christmas Eve at the mall, and with aching feet and no real plans, her holiday could really use some cheer. As always at Christmas, Santa comes through . . .
“Uuuugh…” Olivia said with a groan as they walked through the mall to the main doors. “I can’t wait to get out of these shoes.”
Jill stretched her back. “You sure you’re not coming over?”
Olivia smiled. “I’m sure.”
“Well, if you change your mind, we’re home tonight. Tomorrow we split between his parents and mine, though.”
“Thanks, but really – I’m good.” Olivia yawned, staggering a bit on her stiletto heels.
“Ho Ho Ho, ladies!” Santa’s voice rang out from the tacky foamcore gingerbread house set up in the center of the mall. Jill waved back.
“Hey Santa! Whassup?”
“Still taking requests,” he called out. “What are you wishing for?”
“Alcohol!” Jill called back. “And a foot rub for my friend, here!”
Santa looked over at Olivia. His beard obscured his face, but she could tell he was smiling.
“Is that so?” he said.
“Yeah, but give her the kind of rub that starts at the feet and works its way up!” Jill suggested, waggling her eyebrows. “Somebody needs to unwrap her under a Christmas tree, if you know what I mean.” Continue reading
In this scene from Someday In Dublin, Michael takes a late-night phone call . . .
Michael was dreaming he was wearing a large, heated hat. So large, in fact that in order to fit through the doorway, he had an emergency beacon that activated, so that everyone could clear out of the way.
He tried to step through, but the hat got stuck, pressing down on his head with punishing force as the noise of the beacon increased, bleating louder and louder until he opened his eyes and realized it as the middle of the night.
It was the middle of the night, his phone was ringing, and there was a cat on his head.
There was a cat on his head, and she wasn’t going to budge.
“Get off, you sodding feline,” he grumbled, pushing her off the pillow. He got a kick to the side of the face for that, and uttered a curse word as he fought his way out of the covers. He finally succeeded in putting his feet to the floor and stumbled over to his pants, still wadded up near the dresser. He pulled his phone from the pocket just as it stopped ringing.
He swiped the screen angrily, pulling up the missed call.
Amy. Amy had called him. Continue reading
She pulled back. “Is that really the line you use? ‘We only have right now!'” she mocked. “‘Who knows what tomorrow will bring!‘”
She gave him a push and laughed as she held her free hand to her heart in a dramatic fashion. “‘We must seize this moment!‘” She sank down onto the bed, still laughing. “How many dewy-eyed women has that line scored for you, Mr. Ego? Bravo!” She clapped.
His hand slid up her arm, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in its wake, his fingers traveling slow up her shoulder and neck until they softly stroked her jawline. “I know you’re apprehensive, and I understand that.”
His voice was hypnotizing, seducing her while his thumb moved up to stroke her lower lip. “But we both know how incredible we’re going to be together,” he murmured. “You can feel it, just like I do. We don’t know how this will all end up, but we know we have right now, and we have this.” Continue reading
“I know,” she said. “But it’s still hard sometimes. Being alone.”
“It is,” he agreed. “So isn’t it grand that we’re sitting here alone together?”
She was beauty incarnate, and he knew why she loved storms. There was a wildness in them – a freedom of being thrown where the waves take you – that called to her.
From: Eight Nights At Sea