I have SUCH a treat today! The wonderful Jan Colley - Silhouette Desire author has agreed to come play - we're shelf buddies in New Zealand this month for the first time which is FUN! So please, read her news and her excerpt, give us your answer to her question and be in to win! She'll be loitering to answer any questions you may have too so don't be shy!!!
Hello! Thanks, Nat, for inviting me to link arms and join in the fun as we appear on the bookshelves together for the first time, two Christchurch girls together. We should have gotten huge red stickers printed – CHRISTCHURCH AUTHOR – or maybe we should do the rounds of the bookstores with a big marker pen…
It always seems such a long wait from the time the books hit the shelves in the US to finally coming out downunder. And I’m having trouble typing the title now, since I’ve become used to the US spelling of Billionaire’s Favorite Fantasy. I’m pleased to report that it appeared on the Waldenbooks booksellers list, albeit in the bottom half, but it did languish there for three weeks, which is always good.
I have had some good reviews (and one bad – sad face) and some nice comments re the cover, which is my favourite cover of all my books.
Except for the hero’s too-dark hair, it was near perfect, right down to the rustic cabin and firelight, his black tee and jeans and especially the white coat. And yes, the long white fur coat was definitely an integral part of his fantasy…
And that brings me to my question: What’s your favourite fantasy? It should involve a man/lover as opposed to a weekend in Melbourne with a couple of close girlfriends and unlimited credit. (Some decorum, please. Remember, this is a family blog!) Does it involve a special place, resort or hotel? A Clooney or Pitt lookalike? Dancing in the moonlight, looking beautiful at a glittering ball, or walking hand in hand along a perfect white-sand beach? The most interesting answer will win a copy of Billionaire’s Favourite Fantasy. (And a copy of Pleasured by the Secret Millionaire from Nat!)
I’ll kick off by saying I have always had a fascination for meeting someone for the first time in a public place, usually crowded, and being almost immobilized by the meeting of eyes, while life goes busily on around you. (Naturally, I would be 6 feet tall with jet black hair with emerald green eyes and a figure like Wonder Woman…)I actually have a friend that this has happened to twice! The first time, she married him but alas, there was no happy ending…ay ay ay, it must feel incredible to be so deeply and immediately affected by a complete stranger, so that you end up doing something completely out of character – like Madeline did in my story…
So tell me your fantasy set-up(minus the gory details) and win a book!
And here is a taste:
Excerpt: Billionaire’s Favourite Fantasy.
Now she stood at the door of the cabin, trying not to think about movies she’d seen where the prostitute arrives at a hotel room and knocks on the door. Madeline took a deep breath, opened the door and walked in.
Like last time, colored candles in little glasses sat winking on many surfaces. A cheery fire crackled in the grate and the heavy velvet drapes were drawn. Fresh flowers on a table scented the air, and music played softly on the stereo.
Madeline set her overnight bag down softly on the floor. No sign of Lewis. Was he already in bed? Perhaps drawing a bath?
Turning, she locked the door then started for the bedroom, just as he appeared at the door.
Madeline stopped, barely breathing. Lewis stopped too and leaned against the doorjamb, looking as relaxed as she was tense. His eyes washed over her slowly, glinting in the dim candlelight. His hair was slightly damp and swept up over his forehead. The slight cleft in his square chin was accentuated by being clean-shaven, the first time she’d seen him completely clean-shaven. Like their last night together, he wore jeans and a black t-shirt, and no shoes or socks.
He gave a small smile. “My first fantasy fulfilled,” he murmured, “You came.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“You’re no coward.” He pushed away from the wall. “Can I take your coat?”
She turned toward the fire, unbuttoning the long camel-colored woolen coat, and handed it to him.
Madeline nodded, thinking the bubbles could hold hands with the squillions of bubbles of nerves in her system right now.
Lewis put her coat away and poured two heavy flutes from a bottle in an ice bucket by the table, and came to stand beside her in front of the fire. He held out his glass and touched it gently to hers. “Did you bring a fantasy?”
The pitch of the crystal reverberated through her chest.
Madeline took her time glancing around the room. “It’s all here.”
Her breath hitched when he reached for her free hand and laced their fingers together. She remembered the little things he did that first night to make her feel liked, respected, a little calmer. Like now, as he kissed the tips of her fingers.
“Would you care to eat in the restaurant tonight?”
She shook her head. They could do room service if necessary, like last time. Now that she’d made the decision, she didn’t want to waste a minute on other people, and staying in lessened the chances of anyone she knew seeing them.
Lewis squeezed her hand. “Nervous?”
She inclined her head. “Maybe a little.”
“More than last time?”
Madeline nodded again. Now he was her boss and she would have to see him again, maybe on a regular basis. He could make or break her career with one word or sly insinuation. But as she searched his eyes, soaked up the reassurance she saw there, her world became aligned on an axis of peace. It was right to be here.
“What’s your fantasy?” she asked breathlessly.
His eyes slid to her lips and he bent his head and closed the distance between them. “I have a few,” he whispered, and brushed her mouth with his. “But they all start the same way.”
His tongue traced the seam of her lips, coaxing her to open for him and she closed her eyes. Other than his mouth and his hand holding hers, he didn’t touch her. All her focus centered on the silky slide of his lips, the practiced stroke of his tongue, his breath melting into her mouth. So different from the greedy assault in the elevator. All feeling, patient, a leisurely entrée to entice and prepare her for more substantial fare.
A minute later, without thinking, she stretched out her hand to set her glass down somewhere, anywhere, so that she could touch him. Lewis pulled back, took her glass and put both of them on the mantel.
Madeline pressed both hands flat on to his chest but he circled her wrists and held them away.
“You can’t touch,” he whispered and bent his head toward her again.
“But I want to…” She gazed hungrily at the tight t-shirt that molded to smooth muscle, his biceps bulging with tight smooth skin. She wanted to touch very much, to feel all that tanned smooth skin under her fingers.
Lewis smiled lazily. “My first fantasy involves me sitting over there,” he jutted his chin toward a chair placed well back in the shadows, “and you right here, taking your clothes off, one piece at a time.
Madeline laughed shakily. “Really? That’s it? A peep show?”
His teeth flashed in the dimly-lit room. “Oh, that’s just the start of it.”
He waited while she assimilated that, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Madeline captured the tip of his thumb in her mouth, swirling her tongue over it before releasing it, and watched his eyes darken with desire. “Will you be giving instructions?”
“Most definitely,” he said, the hoarse tone of his voice turning her knees to water. Then he walked away to his chair and when he sat, she couldn’t make out his features at all, only his knuckles resting on his knees.
Nervous laughter bubbled dangerously close to the surface. Could she do this, be the woman he thought she was? If Madeline had been told a week ago that she would meet a sexy stranger while on holiday and spend the night making love to him, she might just believe it. But if anyone said she would knowingly go to a secluded cabin with the express purpose of having sex with her boss, and end up doing a striptease for his gratification, she would have laughed until she cried.
She took a long draught of champagne, pleased about the blow-out on the lingerie. The music he’d chosen was slow and seductive and although she didn’t recognize the group, she liked the sound and stood for a minute, learning the beat. Think of it as a test, she counseled, but her hand still trembled as she put down her glass. Then she turned to her faceless stranger, put a hand to her blouse and pushed the first tiny mother of pearl button through the hole.”