My Sexy Saturday: DIVA’s big moment

by with No Comment Dave & MelindaExcerpts

LynnSexySaturday_buttonCan you feel the excitement? I sure can.

My debut romance, DIVA IN THE DUGOUT, will be up for sale at Turquoise Morning Press this week. To celebrate, this week’s My Sexy Saturday seven are from that story. (Yes, this time I’m using a snippet from the actual book, not something I cut.)

This moment comes at the end of a long, emotionally charged day, the day Dave and his daughter meet for the first time, under mamma Melinda’s watchful—and slightly green—eye. Mel’s having trouble reconciling how enamored Tara is with all things “Daddy,” in part because she, too, is still attracted to the man.

When Tara demands that Dave be the one to put her to bed and read her a bedtime story, Mel can’t resist peeking in. Touched by the sight of father and daughter together at last, her emotions are churning when she sits down on the couch with Dave.

***

Diva-Dugout-AHittle-LGWhen he reached out to brush her hair off her face, Mel reared back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Dave’s grin flickered on in full force, and something else melted inside her. “Renewing our acquaintance.”

There had to be something wrong with that idea, but Mel suddenly couldn’t think what. She leaned into him, her lips parted, already begging for a kiss.

His lips settled over hers and his tongue swept into her mouth. Her senses swirled with the touch of his tongue until she barely noticed he was repositioning her onto his lap.

Mel’s body remembered. Her nipples puckered and her panties grew damp in response to the erection nudging through two layers of denim. Dave deepened the kiss. His hands settled on her hips, bringing the most intimate part of her more firmly in contact with him.

Caught up in old memories and new sensations, she didn’t object when he eased her back against the arm of the couch and started fumbling with the button on her shorts. She wasn’t thinking of Tara, just upstairs, or the fact that Luanne would arrive any minute.

She wanted—no, needed—this. Sex. With Muscles. She hadn’t had intimate relations with anyone since…since a disastrous reunion attempt with Bud when Tara was nine months old.

DIVA IN THE DUGOUT, out this week!

Big day for DIVA

by with No Comment Dave & MelindaMusings

My debut novel, DIVA IN THE DUGOUT, which comes out in less than a week, has its cover.

Diva-Dugout-AHittle-LG

Isn’t it a beauty? No, wait. That’s book two, BEAUTY AND THE BALLPLAYER, which is coming out next March. (Sorry. Couldn’t resist.)

I love it! The stadium and baseball glove in the background … the models … MY name on the cover …

Of course, now that my boss pointed out Dave’s resemblance to Van Wilder, I have a hard time NOT seeing it. And that’s a shame because Greg, the hero of Untitled Book 3, is actually the one I visualized as Ryan Reynolds’ kid brother.

DIVA’s on TMP’s Coming Soon page now.

Screen Shot 2013-10-09 at 12.59.13 AMI can’t believe I have less than a week to go! Time sure does fly …

My Sexy Saturday: Meg & Matt

by with One Comment ExcerptsMeg & Matt

It’s Saturday! That means it’s time for My Sexy Saturday. *Cue happy dance.*

The rules:

Post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words ONLY. The choice is yours. It can be from a WIP or something you already have published. Your post should be live by 9 am US Pacific Time on Saturday. Put those lucky 7s to work for you!

Since I just turned BEAUTY AND THE BALLPLAYER in to my my editor, it’s uppermost in my thoughts. This week’s sexy seven are part of a scene between Meg and Matt. They’ve just paused for a kiss in a Flagstaff park.

***

A whistle split the air, breaking the spell Matt had cast over her with his kiss. She looked in the direction from which it had come and saw a teenage boy grinning at them. He flashed them a thumbs-up.

Meg felt her cheeks get warm. “I think you have a fan.”

“Are you kidding? He’s probably staring at you. I’m just a guy. You’re the babe.”

There he went again, handing out unnecessary compliments. She rolled her eyes. “And you’re the baseball player. I bet he recognizes you.”

Matt shook his head and motioned at the kid, who edged closer to them, eyebrows lifted in an unspoken question. Matt asked, “Do you know who I am?”

When the teen shook his head and ambled off, Matt grinned. “Told you he was admiring you.”

“Or he was admiring your technique,” she shot back.

Beauty and the Ballplayer, coming in March 2014 from Turquoise Morning Press.

LynnSexySaturday_button

My SexySaturday: Wild Boys

by with 2 Comments Dave & MelindaExcerpts

Er … don’t get the wrong idea. There’s only one Wild Boy, actually.

I just couldn’t resist the chance to misappropriate another ’80s song title for a blog post. (Like The Escape Club, I’m  living in the ’80s— just not headed for the ’90s. We’re smack-dab in the middle of 2013. Yikes. How did that happen?)

LynnSexySaturday_buttonIt’s Saturday again, and I’m sure you haven’t stopped by my blog to listen to me wax nostalgic for ’80s music. You’re here to check out this week’s My Sexy Saturday offering, right?

The rules, for those of you playing for the first time:

Post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words. The choice is yours. It can be from a WIP or something you already have published. Your post should be live by 9 am US Pacific Time on Saturday. Put those lucky 7s to work for you!

A while back, I treated you to seven paragraphs of deleted material from DIVA IN THE DUGOUT. With DIVA coming out in less than a month*, I thought I’d give you another seven deleted paragraphs, this time from Dave’s point of view—hence the Wild Boy in the title.

Five years ago, when he and Mel first met, Dave was as wild as they come. Now, his challenge is to shed that bad boy image once and for all and step into the toughest role of his life: Fatherhood.

Keep in mind, this is from the first chapter that I decided was really a prologue before ruthlessly slashing it from the finished manuscript. (A hero and heroine both behaving badly made neither look sympathetic.)

***

Arizona Condors shortstop Dave Reynolds cocked his head as he considered the perky blonde’s question. He was always up for a little off-the-field action.

“What do you have?”

Her smile widened as she brushed her breasts against his chest again. God, she was beautiful. The short, spiky haircut emphasized her green eyes and full, pouty lips — classic beauty queen looks some women would kill for. “You mean I’m not enough?”

When she seemed ready to pull away, Dave held her fast. Hard nipples contrasted with soft, full tits. The concierge at his team’s hotel had said the locals were friendly, but this woman’s greeting went beyond friendly. She’d plopped into his lap and kissed him “hello.” Now she wanted to party.

The party in his pants was already in full swing, due in large part to her enthusiasm. Not that he was surprised. Women loved athletes, and he took full advantage of the Condors’ road trips to get his share of tail.  It wasn’t usually quite this easy, though. Apparently everything — including desire — was bigger in Texas.

“You never answered my question.” The blonde watched him expectantly.

He noted the freckles dusting her nose. Despite her objection to being called young, she couldn’t be much more than 18 years old. But at 24, it wasn’t like he was over the hill. And if this barely legal Texas babe wanted to party, who was he to say no?

Dave swallowed again. “I think you’ll be more than enough.”

DIVA IN THE DUGOUT, coming from Turquoise Morning Press the week of Oct. 15. (*Scene not included.)

LynnSexySaturday_button

My Sexy Saturday: Putting the ‘stud’ in social studies

by with 5 Comments ExcerptsOSNB

LynnSexySaturday_buttonYes, I went there. Again. If you forgave me the first time, you can do it again, right?

It’s time for another My Sexy Saturday blog hop. For those of you playing along for the first time, here are the rules:

Post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words. The choice is yours. It can be from a WIP or something you already have published. Your post should be live by 9 am US Pacific Time on Saturday. Put those lucky 7s to work for you!

This week, I promised a hot scene between Erin and Brad. They’re the heroine and hero of the first manuscript I completed, the one that wouldn’t recognize itself if it bumped into its first draft in a dark alley — or in a brightly lit corridor, for that matter.

Erin is an education reporter for the Willow’s Grove Journal-Times; Brad is a social studies teacher at the school she’s investigating (with sportswriter/male stripper Mike James) for giving athletes inflated grades. Erin prides herself on not being superstitious — she goes so far as to go out of her way to walk under ladders. But she wonders if she’s jinxed herself to be perpetually unlucky in love.

In this scene, toward the end of the book, Brad has just learned about Erin’s investigation and asks to see her notes — a request she denies, citing freedom of the press.

Sometimes, there’s nothing hotter than a good argument …

***

“I’m familiar with freedom of the press.” Brad’s hand waved impatiently. “I teach government, remember?”

Erin spoke through clenched teeth. Why did he insist on being so obtuse? “Then you should understand why I can’t share my findings. I shouldn’t be discussing the story with you at all before it goes to press.”

He buried his face in his hands. Seconds ticked by, and when he looked up, all traces of warmth in his eyes had vanished. “Just tell me one thing: Are you sleeping with anyone else to get access to their grade book, or just me?”

The question hit her like a punch to the stomach, flattening her hard-won self esteem with one blow. As her surroundings dimmed, all the breath whooshed from her body. “You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack. You’ve obviously been cozying up to me so you can snoop through my stuff.”

No. He didn’t — couldn’t — mean it. She refused to believe he could even consider such a thing.

But the look in his eyes told her he clearly did. She ran her tongue over her lips as she gathered what was left of her self-respect, pulling it close as if it could keep her heart from splintering. “If that’s how you feel, maybe you should go.”

Unlucky 13? Not so much

by with One Comment Dave & MelindaMusings

Friday13I’ve never liked the number 13.

And I’m not alone. According to Wikipedia, the Stress Management Center and Phobia Institute in Asheville, N.C., estimates that 17 to 21 million Americans are affected by a fear of this day, making it the most feared day and date in history.

“Some people are so paralyzed by fear that they avoid their normal routines in doing business, taking flights or even getting out of bed.”

I’m not THAT bad. But I am superstitious enough to avoid the number 13 whenever possible. At work, our computer system used to create a new version of a page every time you hit “save.” I’d keep close watch on that number, and when it hit “13,” I’d hurry up and do something else — even something as small as add a space to something — and save again. I was secretly convinced my computer would freeze up if I tried to work in the 13th version.

Same thing with photos. When I adjust them in Photoshop, I never set the brightness/contrast level at 13, for fear it’ll crash my computer. (Our system is old and slow, and has gone down for less.)

I secretly do a happy dance when a high-rise building doesn’t have a 13th floor. (I hate elevators enough without having to stare at a “13” button during the ride — unless they’re glass elevators. Strangely enough, those I handle much more easily. Maybe it’s because they feel airier?)

With my aversion to the number 13, you can imagine how thrilled I was when the calendar turned the page to 2013. I feared I was in for an entire year of terrible luck.

Now that nearly nine months of 2013 are in the can, I might have to change my tune.

Why? ’13 is turning out to be my lucky year — at least on the publishing front.

 

I made this Instaframe photo to commemorate the day I signed my first publishing contract.
I made this Instaframe photo to commemorate the day I signed my first publishing contract.

I’ve sold not one but three manuscripts, and will make my Turquoise Morning Press debut with DIVA IN THE DUGOUT the week of Oct. 15.

Sounds like triskaidekaphobia will have to join the dislike/distrust of black cats in my book of superstitions debunked. The photo above is of my baby, Destiny, who crosses my path all the time and hasn’t brought me any bad luck. (In fact, she was the inspiration for both Bree and Mike’s cats in OVEREXPOSED.) Don’t ask my why she looks stoned in that picture. I snapped it just last night, and she had no access to catnip.

For more about superstitions, check out today’s post at the Ruby Slippered Sisterhood.

And come back tomorrow for a My Sexy Saturday post featuring my most superstitious heroine, Erin Mannering, and her hero, Brad Kingston, who — please forgive me — puts the “stud” in social studies.

My Sexy Saturday — Meg & Matt

by with 4 Comments ExcerptsMeg & Matt

LynnSexySaturday_buttonGood morning, everyone. It’s Saturday, and you know what that means: Time to kick back with another round of My Sexy Saturday reads.

The rules:

Post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words. The choice is yours. It can be from a WIP or something you already have published. Your post should be live by 9 am US Pacific Time on Saturday. Put those lucky 7s to work for you!

To celebrate the sale of my 2011 Golden Heart-finaling manuscript, BEAUTY AND THE BALLPLAYER, to Turquoise Morning Press, here’s an excerpt.

In this scene, the book’s opener, Meg has just realized she’s pregnant and almost lost her job. She and her still-employed co-workers have hit the local watering hole to celebrate the fact that they still have jobs. But she’s feeling weak and needs to sit — and finds herself battling a sexy stranger for the only open table in the bar.

***

As Meg slid into the seat he’d so ungraciously offered, she ordered her unruly hormones to simmer down. A man was the last thing she needed tonight — or maybe ever again. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to stare?”

“Sorry.” The word was an apology, but he didn’t look the least bit contrite. “I can’t help staring at beautiful women. It’s my biggest character flaw.”

Beautiful? After the day she’d had — confirming she was pregnant, fighting off morning sickness … all day long … and dealing with a fresh round of layoffs at the foundering ad agency she worked for — even a blind man would know she looked like hell.

Despite her bad mood and his too-obvious pickup line, Meg found herself smiling at the guy. After all, it took guts to tell such a blatant lie — and it’d be nice to talk to a brave man for a change. Her ex, who’d run off to Vegas last month to try his hand at the professional poker circuit, had certainly been lacking in that department. Besides, with her friends otherwise occupied, she had nothing to do but make conversation.

After enduring his appraisal, she had no qualms about completing one of her own. She slid her gaze from the tuft of thick, chestnut hair poking through the back of his burgundy-and-white cap downward, over his golden-brown eyes, straight nose and smiling mouth. She took in his toned arms, broad chest, tree-trunk thighs and — oh my.

Perhaps he had good reason for his arrogance. Meg jerked her eyes back to his face. After they’d mentally stripped each other, it didn’t feel right to not know the man’s name. She extended her hand. “I’m Meg.”

He eyed her outstretched hand, his lips lifting again. She grinned back as she rescinded her offer. He was right: They already knew each other too well for a mere handshake.

Beauty and the Ballplayer, coming in 2014 from Turquoise Morning Press.

Screen Shot 2013-09-06 at 8.21.17 AM

Sold … again!

by with One Comment Meg & Matt

In case you missed the good news on Facebook, I signed another contract today. And this time, it was a multi-book contract.

That’s right: I sold not one but two more books in my baseball series, tentatively titled “All’s Fair in Love & Baseball,” to Turquoise Morning Press.

Screen Shot 2013-09-06 at 8.21.17 AM

They sent me an email earlier in the week about wanting to offer me a contract for BEAUTY AND THE BALLPLAYER, my 2011 Golden Heart finalist. And when I responded “Absolutely, positively yes, I accept,” I also mentioned that I’d begun writing Book 3 in the series. I said it was still in the early stages, and as-yet untitled, but gave a quick rundown of the premise …

It’s the first baseman’s story — spoiled second-generation ballplayer trying to outrun his father’s long shadow. The heroine is his lawyer, whom he thinks is the exotic dancer he got busted for trying to defend. (The dancer’s her twin sister, though.)

— From my email

… And they loved the premise enough to pick it up sight unseen.

Gulp.

That’s both marvelous and frightening, since I’ve only got a few thousand words down right now. But I have a week-plus of vacation starting next Thursday, and I intend to get at least the bones of the story down while I’m off.

It’s probably a good thing I didn’t mention Book 4, since it’s not more than mere glimmer in my eye: I see an injured pitcher falling for his physical therapist … I have no idea how he got injured, though, and no clear idea of the heroine.

Soon, there’ll be three books of mine running free in the published world. Plus my indie-pubbed holiday novella … I’d better get back to work!

LynnSexySaturday_button

My Sexy Saturday: Blind Date Bride

by with 2 Comments Blind Date BrideExcerpts

LynnSexySaturday_buttonYou know what day it is, right? Saturday! That means it’s time for another entry in the My Sexy Saturday blog hop.

The rules are simple:

Post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words. The choice is yours. It can be from a WIP or something you already have published. Your post should be live by 9 am US Pacific Time on Saturday. Put those lucky 7s to work for you!

Blind Date Bride coverThis week, I thought I’d give you another peek at Kari and Damien from “Blind Date Bride.” I’m breaking the rules by serving up a couple of extra paragraphs — but since some of my lines are one or two words long, I think y’all can roll with it.

Kari and Damien, strangers who were married after becoming the lucky winners of a blind date wedding, have just agreed to allow cameras to film them for a “Newlyweds” type of show over the course of their network-mandated 90-day “cohabitation period.”

Kari agreed because the network offered them extra cash, but only hours later — when it’s time for bed — does she realize what the decision means for their sleeping arrangements. Her new roommate is now also a bedmate. With the camera crews around 24/7, they’d actually have to sleep in the same room — so she can no longer bank on coasting through the next 88 days or so by avoiding her unwanted husband.

***

Kari plumped her newly acquired pillow, stretched out on her back and stared up at the ceiling. The ceiling fan whirred lazily, making only a few slow circles before Kari was convinced that no one would be spending the night on Damien’s floor. The hardwood floor wasn’t just rock-hard; it was also freezing cold. Kari didn’t know how that was possible when it was in the low 80s outside, but if she didn’t climb into Damien’s bed soon, her boxer-clad butt was going to end up with a severe case of frostbite.

Her gaze flitted from the ceiling to the bed, where Damien still sat, watching her intently.

“Stop looking at me like that!” she snapped.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re on a diet and I’m a hot fudge sundae!”

Damien rolled his eyes. “You think you’re that irresistible, huh?”

“Well —” Kari began. More concerned with her own response to the look he was giving her, she hadn’t thought about how conceited the complaint would make her sound.

“Because I have news for you, sweetheart. I can resist — no problem.”

Kari stood up and sat on the edge of Damien’s bed opposite him, but not before scowling at him. “You don’t have to be such a jerk about it.”

He glowered right back. “Why shouldn’t I be? You’re basically saying you don’t trust me to keep my hands to myself, right?”

“Uh —”

“Because I’ve never had to force my attentions on an unwilling woman before, and I don’t intend to start anytime soon. So until you decide you want my hands on you, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Blind Date Bride” coming to e-bookstores everywhere in Spring 2014.

My Sexy Saturday: Meet Mike James (again)

by with 2 Comments Bree & MikeExcerpts

LynnSexySaturday_buttonIt’s Saturday again — and this week, I don’t feel like I’ve been dragged through a tar pit and then forced to go to prom without changing. My head is only mildly stuffy, not filled with snot, and I’m ready to rejoin the land of the living.

That means I’m back for the My Sexy Saturday blog hop. The rules are simple:

Post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words. The choice is yours. It can be from a WIP or something you already have published. Your post should be live by 9 am US Pacific Time on Saturday. Put those lucky 7s to work for you!

This week, I’m bringing you another booty-licious scene with my favorite hero, Mike James.

Aww, who am I kidding? I love all my heroes. That said, I’ll always have a big, squishy soft spot in my heart for Mike. He’s the first guy character I created, although it was quickly apparent he would NOT be Erin’s hero. Not Mike. He wasn’t right for Erin, no matter how much she wanted him to be. Persisted in thinking of her like the kid sister he never had. I realized he needed his own story, the happy ending he didn’t believe he deserved.

And I proceeded to write him one. In OVEREXPOSED, faux bad-boy Mike gets his happily-ever-after, with the ultimate good girl — a 24-year-old virgin.

In this scene, he’s about to relieve her of that condition. They’re at a bar, across the street from the no-tell motel room they’re being forced to share by a snowstorm. They’ve both had a bit too much to drink, and Bree is putting the moves on him (for what she believes at the time to be an excellent reason). Mike is trying desperately to resist her.

***

If I’m lucky, I’ll get drunk enough to pass out before I can do something we’ll both regret.

But as the minutes ticked by, and Breanne responded to every evasion by trying even harder, it became increasingly clear to Mike that resisting her advances wouldn’t be easy. She obviously wanted him — and had for quite a while, if the hints she’d been dropping were to be believed. He desperately hoped her comments weren’t the ravings of a drunken lunatic, because he wanted her, too. He sure as hell didn’t deserve her, but he wanted her just the same. And if she felt the same way, there was nothing to stop them from fulfilling their mutual desire.

Nothing except your innate sense of decency.

And there it was: the elephant squatting on the barroom table. If he did take up with Bree now, he’d become the bad-boy playboy he was pretending to be to hold her, and every decent woman like her, at bay.

He’d never be able to live with himself then. Hell, he barely tolerated himself now.

Time to end this flirtation before it spiraled even farther out of control. Surely she’d balk if he flat-out propositioned her.

“It’s late, Red,” he said, scraping his knuckles over her denim-clad thigh. He stroked her thigh, getting dangerously close to the part of her that he ached to fill. “What do you say we get out of here and find something better to do with our time?”

Instead of pulling away, she practically purred and arched into his hand. “What’d you have in mind?”