Every author has a back list, right? Well, once you’ve got more than one story out you do. And what does every back list have in common?
It needs more lovin’.
So we’re having a hoppity-hop to share the love with our back lists. I’m posting an excerpt from my novel, Delilah’s Passion and hosting a giveaway of an eBook copy.
And, um, just a warning, but the excerpt has some language that may not be safe for all readers. Let’s call it PG13+…
“Whatever,” Caitlyn dismissed her argument. “You’re going to end
up telling me and we both know it. You may as well just give up now
and tell me.”
“Tell you what?” Delilah teased. “You want to hear about how he
pulled my hair? Or how his fingers were digging into my hip, or how
I thought he was going to push me up against the garage door and just
fuck me right there in the front yard?”
“Yeah,” Caitlyn nodded. “That’s exactly what I want to hear. Now
what else?” She rubbed her palms together like the consummate bad
guy in a cheesy movie.
“Now I think that’s everything. I’ve told you every last detail.”
“Oh, come on,” Caitlyn Rolled her eyes. “Where were his hands?
Did you touch his butt? How much of him was pressed against you?”
“I told you, his hands were on my hips, no, I didn’t touch his butt,
and all of him was pressed against me.” Delilah fired off her answers.
“I want better than that, Delilah, and you know it.” Caitlyn wagged
her finger at her friend.
“What do you want from me?” Delilah asked rhetorically. “Do you
want to hear about how he’s such a good kisser I thought I was going
to pass out? Or how about the way I forgot to breathe as soon as his
fingers touched my skin? How about the fact that when he ground his
hips against me I could tell exactly how into the kiss he was?”
“Oh, lordy, he’s hung, isn’t he?” Caitlyn squealed.
“I am so not telling you that,” Delilah crossed her arms in front of
her chest and turned her head to the side. “But yeah, he is.”
“Gah! You are such a lucky bitch!”
“Why does Aiden being hung make me lucky?”
“Because,” Caitlyn snorted as though it were obvious. “You are so
getting on that cock.”
“Cripes, keep it down! And don’t call it a cock!”
“What do you want me to call it? Man meat? Love stick? Steely
column of man flesh? Oh, I know! His Big Johnson! Hmmm, how
about wiener? Wang? Dong? Woody?”
“No! God, did you stop maturing emotionally in tenth grade?”
Delilah laughed. “Call it his dick for Pete’s sake.”
“How is dick any different that cock?”
“I don’t know, it just is,” Delilah rationalized.
To read more, comment below and you could win a copy. Can’t wait? Click here to buy your own copy on Amazon.
Check out the other lovely authors hopping with me!