Amber Lea Easton – Behind Closed Doors

Let @MtnMoxieGirl Amber Lea Easton Transport You into A World of #Romantic Adventure with #Proximity

Welcome to Behind Closed Doors and Friday Fantasy Free For All. Today I have a special treat for you. My friend, editor extraordinaire and fellow author Amber Lea Easton has asked me to share in the celebration of her new release Proximity (Wanderlust II). The Wanderlust series started with Anonymity. Amber wrote it for fun—for herself and for readers. We loved it so much, we wanted more of the same. While some of the characters may make cameos in the other books in the series, each one stands alone and can be read out of order if you choose. Each one transports you on a brand new adventure with another couple as the battle the elements, natural disasters and the lust they feel for each other. It’s a MUST read series you don’t want to miss!

Proximity

Book Two of the Wanderlust Series

Genre: Contemporary romance adventure

Author: Amber Lea Easton

Heat Level: Steamy

Blurb:

Love sometimes hides in plain sight.

Savannah is one of the boys—fun loving, adventurous, a general contractor, and dive master extraordinaire. There isn’t much she takes seriously about herself, or at least that’s the impression she likes to give off. Women often misjudge her based on her looks so she’s gravitated toward a group of men who accept her ‘as is’—her Scuba diving club.

Bill has known Savannah’s wild side for years and has been comfortable playing the role of best friend. As part of the Dallas Divers, he’s shared many adventures with the group from diving the Blue Hole in Belize to exploring the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. When the team heads out to Costa Rica for a series of cave dives, he knows something is off but can’t justify his nerves.

Catastrophe happens shortly after their immersion in the cave. With the entrance blocked from an earthquake and separated from the rest of their team, Savannah and Bill are forced to find another way out while battling aftershocks, rising tides, and an undeniable attraction that they’ve ignored for too long. The question becomes, what’s more dangerous…the earthquake or love?

**The Wanderlust Series consists of stand-alone adventure romance novels. Occasionally, characters from previous novels may make a cameo, but each story truly does stand on its own merits.

Excerpt:

She’d had a bad feeling about this trip before agreeing to go and should have gone with her gut. Instead, here she sat thousands of miles from home with friends who normally elevated her mood rather than sunk it.

She had just opened the door to her private balcony facing the canopy of the jungle when a hammering of knocks fell against the front door. Sighing, she ignored them, needing time to regroup.

Focus on the dive. That’s why you’re here. Look at that monkey staring at you. She squinted at the howler monkey perched in an adjacent tree. Gee, I hope he doesn’t throw shit at me.

“You didn’t lock the door. That’s probably not safe.” Bill stood behind her.

“You’re certainly brining the drama on this trip.” She sipped her Mai Tai and waited while he adjusted his long frame into the chair next to hers. “Emily told me that Lexi had an issue with our lunches and talks. I know you said that you didn’t care what people said—and you know I don’t—but it must be eating you up to leave the group. I’ll quit, if that’s what this is. You stay with them. Pretty soon the other guys will have similar issues with me, I’m sure. You’re all too damn polite to say anything.”

“Savannah—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Don’t be a martyr.”

She twisted in her chair to look him in the face. “We’ve been through snake bites, hurricanes, wicked currents, and years of shared secrets. Do. Not. Lie. To. Me.”

He gritted his jaw but didn’t look away. “Fine. I won’t. Yes, I’m leaving the group because of you.”

Well, damn, that hurts.

She felt like he’d slapped her. She’d been holding out hope that her insecurities were getting the best of her. She ripped her gaze from his and stared into her drink, absently poking the pineapple stalk into the alcohol before taking a big bite from it.

“I can’t do this anymore. It’s killing me,” he said.

“What is?” She couldn’t look at him. Sudden tears had blurred her vision.

“Choosing and never being chosen in return.”

“What are you choosing? We’re not playing a game of pick-up basketball. That’s what you sound like—a child who isn’t being picked for the right team.” She rubbed a stray tear with the back of her hand. “What does that mean—choosing and not being chosen?”

“Nothing, Savannah. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Now you’re patronizing me.” Goddamn it, he was pushing her buttons like never before.

“I’d watch that monkey if I were you…he’s eyeballing your drink.”

“I can handle the monkey.” She slid him a gaze that she hoped melted him in place.

“You’re overreacting to my announcement.”

“Announcement? Stewart was right when he said you’re treating us like your employees. What happened between my house and here? What aren’t you telling me? Be straight, don’t give me some bullshit story you’ve obviously made up on the fly. What is killing you? Your word…killing. Me? How? We’re—”

“Stop it, Savannah. You’re making everything worse.” He stood and squeezed her shoulder. “Come back out with the guys. They’re all pissed at me for driving you away. Let’s hit restart on this adventure of ours and have a good night.”

She’d rally because that’s what she did—what she was known for, rallying and never breaking. Even after her fiancé had killed himself, she’d gone on with life and succeeded. She rallied. But right now she didn’t want to laugh this off and be one of the guys. She wanted to drink her Mai Tai, order room service, and spend the rest of her night staring at the jungle surrounding them. Alone.

“Go do that then. I’m not coming.”

“Savannah…this isn’t about hurting you. You and I—”

“—Are such good buddies that you can’t confide in me?” She met his gaze then, eyes devoid of tears, a skill she’d mastered over the years. “We talk every night. I thought we told each other everything, and here you have this resentment toward me—”

“—I don’t resent you at all, couldn’t, that’s not—”

“Then tell me the truth because I know you’re lying.”

He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and stared at her as if weighing the pros and cons of confession.

“So it’s true? You’re still lying?” She stood then and poked him in the chest with the remainder of the pineapple stalk. “We are dive partners! I trust you with my life and you trust me with yours every damn time we go down. What could you possibly want to hide from me?”

“If I tell you, I’ll lose you.” He clenched his jaw but didn’t break eye contact. “That’s what you do, Savannah. Yes, we know each other really well, which means I know what I can and can’t tell you.”

“What do you mean that’s what I do? Do what? You showed up at my house with Chinese take-out, all smiles and wanting to make plans to go to Denver for Alyssa and Luke’s wedding—then wham you’re suddenly moving to California.” She gestured wide with her hands, more confused than she’d ever been about anything in her life. “Did you get bit by some Costa Rican bug and it’s causing you to lose your fucking mind?”

Without hesitating, he grabbed the back of her head and ground his mouth against hers until they stumbled back against the chair and onto the railing of the balcony. The ferocity of his kiss weakened her knees and shocked her to the core.

She clenched at his shoulders for balance, conscious of leaning precariously against a bamboo railing thirty feet above the ground. Every inch of her trembled at the unexpected passion rolling from his lips and against hers.

But she liked the way he felt against her, enjoyed the way his fists pulled as he wrapped them tightly into her hair, liked the way he ground his mouth against hers until she kissed him back, thrilled at being thrown off balance and needing to cling to his strong shoulders to remain upright.

When she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss, he moaned his appreciation. The sound electrified her blood with a million tiny pinpricks of awareness that pulsated beneath her skin.

As suddenly as he’d kissed her, he let her go.

She sagged against the railing, hands searching for something to hold onto as she watched him walk away. Anger replaced desire in the blink of an eye.

She strode after him and caught him as he was stepping out the front door. “What the hell was that?”

He looked at her, his slow grin adding fuel to the fire burning in her gut. “If I need to tell you, then I guess I didn’t do it right.”

“Bill, I swear to God you’ve lost all sense,” she whispered.

“Maybe it’s the opposite.”

She frowned. “I don’t know what that means.”

“There’s the problem. Right there.” He grabbed her by the shoulders, kicked the door closed and ground his mouth against hers again. Reckless desire communicated itself through the ferocity of his kiss.

She pressed against him, overcome with need and confusion. She matched his passion with her own, no longer thinking about what was right or wrong. Every inch of her skin quivered with awareness.

They fell against the wall, tripped over a low table, and collapsed against the floor in a tangle of limbs. Body heat ignited from the inside out, making the short dress she wore feel constricting even as it rode up her thighs. She writhed against him, peeled his shirt up his back and sunk her fingernails into his skin.

He moved his mouth from hers and trailed kisses down her neck. The weight of him pressing her against the wooden floor combined with the heat of their bodies and the feel of his mouth on her skin while surrounded by wild sounds of the jungle overloaded her senses.

“Savannah, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he muttered against her shoulder.

His voice snapped her back to reality. She dropped her head back against the wood and closed her eyes. The pleasure of the moment conflicting with common sense.

“We can’t do this,” she said with a catch in her voice. “You’re Bill.”

“Glad you know who I am.” He rose up on the palm of his hands and stared into her eyes. “Why not? You’re the only woman I’ve ever thought of as a soul mate—look at how we are together. Friends, confidantes…why not lovers? Why not have it all?”

“Stop it. Soul mate? Where is this coming from?” She wiggled from beneath him and straightened her dress. Breaths came like tortured streaks of air ripping through up her throat. “This is because of your fight with Lexi, isn’t it? She said something about me, about us, and it has you all stirred up. I am not going to risk our friendship for a good fuck.”

“You want me as badly as I want you.” He jumped to his feet.

She couldn’t look at him with his hair a mess from her hands, handsome face dark with desire, and shirt half-up his hard chest without thinking of how good it had felt to have his body on top of hers. Her mind raced for an excuse that wouldn’t damage their relationship.

She needed his friendship more than she needed a lover.

“You’re Bill.”

“We’ve got that covered! Why the hell do you keep saying that? What does my name signify to you? Is it that I’m your lap dog and nothing more? Have I been segregated into some weird place in your life where I am permanently in the friend-zone?”

Words failed her. She faced him and shrugged. The hurt in his eyes stabbed her in her heart.

“Bill, wait,” she said when he opened the door again. She grabbed his arm, not knowing what to say but terrified that a crack had formed in their relationship that would never heal. “I need to understand.”

“If I need to spell it out to you at this point, then maybe I’ve been wrong about us for a very long time.” He met her gaze. “That’s why I need to go. You confuse me. I want a life with a wife and kids and big family barbecues and all of that and I’m starting to think this…friendship we have…is standing in the way of the rest of my life. It’s you, always you in my head when I’m with anyone else.”

“You’re my best friend,” she whispered, fear making her voice quake. “That’s always been enough.”

“That’s what I thought, too.”

“Then what changed? We’re Savannah and Bill, we have fun, we’re each other’s go-to person…Why complicate it? Why can’t you have a wife and kids and everything you want with me as your best friend?”

“Is that what you want? Really?” He leaned close enough where the gold flecks in his hazel eyes were only an eyelash away. “Do you want to watch me marry someone else one day? Because I can honestly stand here and say that the idea of you being some other man’s bride tears my heart out.”

She cringed at the idea of being anyone’s bride. “Why are you doing this? Now? Here? Before a dangerous dive?”

“It came up, that’s all.”

“Like hell it did. You’re my partner and now you threw this—”

“Let it go, Savannah. Pretend I never came to your room.” He twisted free of her grip and walked onto the suspended bridge.

Talk about a serious mind fuck.

Deciding to let him have his nervous breakdown on his own, she slammed the door closed and stomped toward the bed. Her dive buddies were her safe haven from the nutty men in the world—or at least they had been before Bill decided to go bonkers. She fell back onto the bed and blinked at the thatched ceiling. Absently, she touched her lips that still throbbed from his kiss.

Okay, so maybe she’d fantasized about him now and then. Perhaps she’d been guilty of comparing other men to Bill and finding them lacking. But crossing that line had never been an option for her. Couldn’t be.

Mae West had once said that a man’s kiss was his signature.

Savannah grinned against her fingertips. Now she knew what Ms. West had meant by that and had to agree. Damn, no man’s kiss had ever curled her toes and boiled her blood like that.

Too bad it could never happen again.

Purchase Links:

Barnes and Noble: http://goo.gl/x4qmGC

Amazon: http://myBook.to/Proximity

All Romance: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-proximity-1795070-153.html

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/539624

About the Author:

Amber Lea Easton is a multi-published author of both nonfiction and fiction. Smart is sexy, according to Easton, which is why she writes strong female heroines who encounter their fair share of challenges but ultimately persevere. In addition to being an author, Easton is also an editor, speaker, and mother of two exceptional young adults. Find out more about her books by visiting http://www.amberleaeaston.com

#OhMy! Monday: #NewRelease & Interview with Author Amber Lea Easton @MtnMoxieGirl

Welcome to Behind Closed Doors! I’m thrilled to announce the upcoming release from one of my friends and fellow authors, Amber Lea Easton. On May 22nd, the long awaited full length novel Dancing Barefoot will be available for purchase. This one is the followup to the free read she’s had on her blog for the last several weeks. You won’t want to miss this one! Make sure you get yours the moment it’s released.

Blurb

Jessica Moriarty appears to have it all—a successful career as an architect, a loyal group of friends, a gorgeous apartment, and an on-again-off-again affair with Boston’s most eligible bachelor. Behind this “perfect life” façade, Jessica hides the loss she feels over giving up her dream career as an artist, copes with a destructive relationship with her alcoholic mother, and struggles with heartbreak over a lost love.

Jacques Sinclair only needs his cameras, a backpack, and a good pair of walking shoes. A world-renowned photographer, he is a man without boundaries. Despite fame and fortune, he still yearns for the woman who shattered his heart when she vanished from his life five years ago.

A chance meeting brings Jacques and Jessica back together. Reunions aren’t always planned or welcomed, but chemistry has a way of revealing what is denied. Ensnared in a web of sabotage and conspiracy—carefully constructed by people who want to control their lives—Jacques and Jessica struggle to trust each other, break free from the status quo, reclaim their love, and build a life of extraordinary possibility.

Interview with the Author

Q: Where did you get the inspiration for the title?

A: While writing this story, I listened to a lot of U2. One of their songs is called ‘Dancing Barefoot’ where they sing of spinning ceaselessly and losing gravity. “Oh God I fell for you” is one of the lyrics. It truly struck a chord within me—no pun intended. In fact, I’ve included the lyrics to the original Patti Smith song on the dedication page of the novel.

Q: What are the lyrics to ‘Dancing Barefoot’? Could you share so we get a sense of what inspired you?

A: You betcha! Here are the original lyrics sung by Patti Smith, later redone by U2.

Dancing Barefoot Song Lyrics (Patti Smith)

She is benediction

She is addicted to thee

She is the root connection

She is connecting with he

Here I go and I don’t know why

I flow so ceaselessly

Could it be he’s taking over me

I’m dancing barefoot

Headin’ for a spin

Some strange music draws me in

It makes me come up like some heroine

She is sublimation

She is the essence of thee

She is concentrating on

He who is chosen by she

Here I go when I don’t know why

I spin so ceaselessly

Could it be he’s taking over me

I’m dancing barefoot

Headin’ for a spin

Some strange music drags me in

Makes me come up like some heroine

She is recreation

She intoxicated by thee

She has the slow sensation that

He is levitating with she

Here I go when I don’t know why

I spin so ceaselessly

‘Til I lose my sense of gravity

I’m dancing barefoot

Heading for a spin

Some strange music draws me in

Makes me come up like some heroine

Oh God I fell for you

Songwriters: Kral, Ivan / Smith, Patti

Q: Why did you feel compelled to write this story?

A: The characters’ struggle with learning to live according to their own truth rather than being bound by others’ expectations resonates with me on a core level. As human beings, it is easy to be caught up in someone else’s life agenda and forget that we are here with our own purpose. There were times in my life when I became consumed with putting other people’s expectations above my own and that is no way to live.

Q: What would you like people to take away from this story?

A: We’re all unique and the status quo doesn’t always serve us well. It’s important to find what makes your heart sing and pursue it even if it’s scary as hell for you to take that leap.

Q: As an author, what is your main goal when connecting with a reader?

A: Entertainment. Despite the nature of some of my stories, such as human trafficking in Reckless Endangerment or breaking free of co-dependency/expectation in Dancing Barefoot, my goal is to entertain the reader. When someone tells me they write ‘literary fiction’, I roll my eyes at the pretentiousness of thinking that entertainment genres like romance or suspense are somehow ‘less than.’ I want to entertain, to take the reader into someone else’s world for awhile, and to make them smile when they turn that last page. The greatest compliment I receive from a reader is when they tell me that they didn’t want the book to end. That’s when I know I’ve done my job well.

Excerpt from Dancing Barefoot

He stalked toward her until her back collided with her easel. His hands gripped the top of the canvas, arms pinned her where she stood. “I haven’t wanted to remember you in a very long time.”

“I suppose not.”

“But I have.”

“Me, too.”

“Are you happy?”

“What do you mean?” She folded her arms across her chest.

“Did you make the right choice? Leaving me? Leaving our life together? Tell me you’re happy and I’ll walk out of your life forever.”

“What does it matter? I can’t undo it.”

“Why is it a difficult question for you to answer? Why can’t you tell me that you have no regrets? I want to hear it.”

“Of course I have regrets, but so what? What good does that do us?”

“That’s why I came here tonight, to see…”

“See what? I’ve done what I said I would do.” Pride forced her head high. “I’m up for associate partner at my firm. I’m a good—no, great—architect. We both succeeded without each other. Good for us.”

“You’re lying. You’re not happy.” His hand framed the side of her face, forcing her to look at him. “I see it in your face. It’s like you’ve died. You’re living in the past, which tells me you’re not that thrilled with the present.”

“When did you get so mean?” Too tired to fight, tears blurred her eyes. “Get out. Enough insults for one night. Just go.”

“Why are you still wearing my ring?” His voice was low and powerful in the small room.

“Why do you?”

“My ring.” Dark blond hair covered his left eye when he bent forward, only a breath away from her face. “Why are you wearing it? Does it mean anything to you or do you simply think it’s pretty?”

“Please go.” She flattened her hands against his chest, but wished she hadn’t. The feel of his hard body beneath her hands liquefied her bones.

He slammed his hand against the canvas, knocking it to the floor behind her. “You just left. One day we’re living together, talking about creating a future, and then you walked away without ever looking back.”

“I look back in my own way. Often, too often, I need to grow up like you said.” Her lungs deflated like air from a balloon. Breathing ceased. I needed to come back here to—”

“To be safe? To do the right thing?” He had her backed against the easel. “I thought you would at least stay in touch with me, the man you supposedly loved, the man you said you wanted to marry, the man you said you needed…but you disappeared.”

“You had my address. I didn’t disappear.”

“You let me go without a word. Until today, I hadn’t heard from you in years, yet here you are wearing my ring.”

“I said I was sorry.” Every inch of her quaked with restrained emotion. “Leave now. Go. Good luck with your exhibit, the workshop, with your life, all of it. Just get the hell out of my house.”

“Do you know why I brought your address with me? Do you?”

“You wanted to tell me off, right? That’s why you came here, to hurt me.”

“I wanted to show you how much I don’t care.”

“Doesn’t that show me how much you really do care?” She lifted her chin, determined not to cry.

A fraction of an inch separated their bodies. She dragged her gaze over the opened buttons of his shirt, over his neck, over his lips until resting on the deep green of his eyes. Damn, the man rocked the word ‘sexy’.

Boldness replaced caution.

Standing on tiptoes, she smoothed her hands along the front of his chest. Touching him again was like coming home from a long, exhausting journey.

He shook his head once as if trying to clear his mind. Only once. He stared at her lips. His hands curled around her forearms, but he didn’t push her away.

“Kiss me,” she whispered against his mouth.

“No,” he whispered as his hands slid up her arms before cupping the back of head.

“I dare you.”

“Never.”

“I know you want to.”

“I don’t.”

“Now who’s the liar?” she asked, her teeth tugging at his lower lip.

Their mouths met in a kiss that melted her skin like candle wax, turning them into one being, one entity consumed by desire. To hell with restraint and regret. She needed this, needed him, here and now.

Passion overrode all other thought or senses. Her hands stroked his back, kneading and searching. Every sense was alive with his touch, with his kiss. The need for him was an ache that burned deep. Hot. Necessary. Urgent. Primal

God, she had missed this, missed him.

He ripped her tank top in two and tossed the material aside. His hands squeezed her breasts while his mouth devoured hers.

She yanked his shirt free from his jeans and shoved it high on his chest, needing his skin against hers more than she’d ever needed anything in life. Clothes fell away, bread crushed beneath their bodies, wine spilled from an overturned bottle at their feet.

They fell against the easel, knocking the canvas and paint in every direction. A tangle of limbs, they made eye contact for a moment, chests heaving, breathing labored.

“This is wrong,” he muttered against her skin.

“Right. Always right with us.” She sank her fingernails into his shoulders.

“What the lady wants, the lady gets,” he said, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

His hands worked at pushing her yoga pants over her hips while his mouth claimed her breast.

She looped her toes in the waistband of his underwear and yanked them over his thighs. Her hands sought his erection while her back arched with every stroke of his hands and every lick of his tongue.

He ground himself inside her with the intensity of repressed rage. Her legs wrapped around his hips, holding him as close as possible as he plunged deep inside her.

Sex had never been tame with him, but this was animalistic. This was raw. Teeth sank into skin. Nails scraped against each other’s bodies. They rolled together, locked as one being. Streaks of yellow and red paint lined their faces, stuck in their hair, no one cared.

Waves of pleasure rolled through her veins like a tsunami until all strength left her body. She laughed, breathless, as her mouth sought his again in a kiss filled with satisfaction and surprise.

“Is this what you meant by a do-over?” He shoved his hands through her hair, palms framing her face, and stared into her eyes. His chest rose and fell against hers.

“Not exactly, but it’ll do,” she whispered, still out of breath, heartbeat slamming like a caged bird’s wings inside her chest.

His mouth sucked on her lower lip, tongue teased hers. “I don’t know what to do with you, Jessica Moriarty.”

“You’ve always known exactly what to do with me, Jacques Sinclair.” She repeated the words they’d always said to one another. She dipped her finger into the wet yellow paint on the canvas beneath his head before smearing it across his chin and over his mouth.

He grabbed her hand, linked his fingers with hers and stared into her eyes. Laughter faded. “This shouldn’t have happened. I lost control, I always lose control around you.”

He rolled away and stared at the ceiling. Then he stood and pulled a piece of cheese from where it had stuck to his shoulder. Without looking at her, he dressed.

Rattled from the sex and his reaction, she stumbled to standing, grabbed the blanket from the sofa and wrapped it around herself. Man, she was on a roll today with fucking up her life.

He walked down the stairs without saying a word.

She returned to the kitchen to find him still waiting. She’d hoped he’d gone.

Back against the wall, he finished buttoning his shirt. He hadn’t bothered to wipe the streaks of paint from his face and hair; then again, neither had she. When he lifted his gaze to hers, he looked agonized.

“I didn’t intend on that. I should go,” he said.

“Stay. Don’t go. Maybe we should talk or something.”

She wanted to scream, stomp her foot like a child, fall to her knees …anything to make him stay.

“There is someone else, Jess. Life moved on without you.” His quiet words sliced her heart into a million pieces. “I came here for answers, to understand. I didn’t intend to rip your clothes off. I only wanted to understand why you left me. That’s all.”

“And now you understand?”

“No.” He shook his head, a slight grin curving his lips. “But I accept that I will never understand.”

She rubbed the palm of her hand over her face. Of course he had someone else. She had discarded him like a used napkin.

“You’re serious with this woman? What you said about the different women all the time was just to hurt me, right?”

“Yes to both questions.”

A chasm ripped through the room, creating a space larger than the ocean that had once separated them. She felt the loss of him again, more powerful, more poignant than before.

“I wish it wasn’t like this between us…”

“I’m still the same man you left in Italy. The reasons you left haven’t changed. I’m a gypsy at heart, never in one place longer than six months or so.” He looked at the matching ring on his finger and blew out a long breath.

“Please leave. Your girlfriend must be wondering what the hell you’re doing.” She hugged her arms across her chest and tapped her foot against the floor. “Please leave, Jacques.”

“Am I wrong? Are you happy? Tell me I’m wrong about you. Tell me that you love being an architect. Tell me that you honestly don’t regret leaving me.” With every word, his face mirrored the agony she felt. “Tell me that you have no regrets, that you are happy with your life as it is now.”

“My life is damn near perfect.” She forced a smile. “Partnership is in sight, remember? Corner office here I come. I have everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s a fucking love fest.”

“It is time I let this go then.” With a quick movement, he pulled the ring from his finger and laid it on the back of the red chair.

She stared at the ring against the faded fabric. “Please don’t leave it. Like you said, it’s yours.”

“Keep it, throw it away, it no longer matters to me. Be well, bella.” Door open, he hesitated at the threshold and looked around the room before meeting her gaze again.

The word hung in the air as they stared at one another, the language of Italy dancing in her memory and tugging at her heart.

“Caro…” she whispered.

Without another look back, he closed the door behind him.

She listened to the fall of his footsteps on the stairs, the outside door opening and closing, and folded his ring into her palm. She pressed the closed fist against lips still swollen from his kiss. Silent tears streaked her face.

“What have I done?” Back against the door, she slid to the floor. The question she asked had no answer. Even she didn’t know if she meant the past or the present; conflicting emotions meshed together in her brain like the various paint streaks staining her skin.

Author Bio:

Amber Lea Easton is a multi-published fiction and nonfiction author. Smart is sexy, according to Easton, which is why she writes about strong female characters who have their flaws and challenges but ultimately persevere. She currently has six contemporary romance and romantic suspense novels out in the world: Kiss Me Slowly, Riptide, Reckless Endangerment, Anonymity, In Between, and Dancing Barefoot. Her memoir, Free Fall, is dedicated to suicide prevention, awareness, and helping others navigate the dark journey of grief.

In addition, Easton works as an editor, freelance journalist, and professional speaker. She speaks on subjects ranging from writing to widowhood. Some of her videos on romance writing have appeared on the international Writers & Authors television network. Current radio appearances are linked via her author website, http://www.amberleaeaston.com.

Easton currently lives with her two teenagers in the Colorado Rocky Mountains where she gives thanks daily for the gorgeous view outside her window. She finds inspiration from traveling, the people she meets, nature and life’s twists and turns. At the end of the day, as long as she’s writing, she considers herself simply to be “a lucky lady liv’n the dream.”

Easton also publishes under the name Dakota Skye who has one paranormal erotic romance, Blurred Lines, currently available and another, Deadly Decadence, due out in the fall of 2014

UPDATE!!! We have buy links for Dancing Barefoot

Amazon: myBook.to/DB

All Romance eBooks: http://goo.gl/Hd8eTg

Smashwords: http://goo.gl/g56oj0

Behind Closed Doors With @MtnMoxieGirl Amber Lea Easton’s Reckless Endangerment #romance #suspense #ASMSG

Welcome to Behind Closed Doors! Today is Throwback Thursday and I have a very special treat for you all today. My friend, fellow Siren author and fabulous editor of the Muses anthology is here today to talk about her romantic suspense novel Reckless Endangerment. Technically this one was released in April 2013 so it is a “throwback.” I thought it would be fun to dip back into catalog for today’s post. I’ll just let her take the reigns. Sit back and enjoy!

~Tammy

Behind Closed Doors…I love the name of this blog. What really goes on behind closed doors? Do we really know someone from their appearance and social persona, even if we regularly associate with them? Image is just that, a snapshot of who we are.

In my novel, Reckless Endangerment, Hope Shane appears to the world—and even to those closest to her—to be a badass reporter who needs no one and has more ambition in her little finger than most do in their entire bodies. But she’s more than that. She’s a woman who wants to fight for her marriage, who mourns the loss of too many friends she’s seen killed in a warzone, and who wishes people could see beyond the public persona.

Can you relate to that? Have you ever felt like you were living up to a standard that was exhausting to maintain? Maybe you’re not perfect, but guess what? No one really is. It’s easy to judge by appearances but it’s rarely accurate.

Michael Cedars is decorated war hero who has an image in his mind of who he is supposed to be in life, but all of that is erased when war wounds leave him partially paralyzed. The difference between his new reality and his expectations of himself as a man push him toward the edge. The very image he’d projected to the world no longer serves him and he doesn’t like his options. Yet everyone in his life is tugging at him to do this, be that, look ahead…and all he wants to do is give up.

Everyone struggles. People all have their challenges, but life moves forward sometimes at a faster pace than we can handle. So we plaster on the smile, live up to the image we choose to project, while we figure out exactly who we are and what we’re going to do about it. Fight, surrender, adapt, or mourn? Often it’s all of the above all done behind closed doors.

Blurb of Reckless Endangerment:

Heroes come in many forms–soldiers who fall and rise and ordinary people doing extraordinary things. Sometimes heroes fall and take the ones they love down with them. Colonel Michael Cedars and reporter Hope Shane fell in love in a war zone, but then the world blew up, and splintered their lives in two.

Michael Cedars returns home from Afghanistan wounded and unsure where he fits in this ‘new normal’ of civilian life. Unsure if he’ll walk again, he questions his abilities as a man, husband, and father. Accustomed to giving orders, he’s thrown into a world where he doesn’t know the rules anymore and no one is respecting the officer in the room.

Hope isn’t one who gives up easily—not on her marriage and not on the innocent victims of a human trafficking ring she’s investigating. As the danger of her story intensifies, she struggles with her own post-traumatic stress disorder and a husband who resists her love.

Danger intensifies as Hope searches for truth and justice. Everyone she loves is at risk. Will her reckless pursuit of the human trafficking ring jeopardize their lives?

Michael knows she needs him, but doubts his ability to be the hero she still believes him to be. Is he still the man she married or has he become a liability that could get her killed?

Excerpt:

“You’re a selfish bastard.” She shoved her hands through her hair and counted silently to twenty. “Say what you want, I don’t care because I’d rather fight with you than mourn you. I’d rather you hate me than feel nothing.”

“I do hate you.”

Blowing a strand of hair from her face, she grabbed the ouzo bottle, opened it and slammed cabinet doors looking for a glass.

“I know you’re lying,” she said.

“Get the hell out of here,” he yelled.

“Where are your goddamn glasses?” she asked between clenched teeth.

“How would I know? I’ve been here less than six hours.”

“Who needs a glass, right?” She took a long swig of the liquor. The alcohol burned her throat but felt damn good. She took another swig before meeting his gaze.

“Is that how you’re dealing with your guilt? Drinking it away?” he asked.

She held the bottle out toward him. “Want a taste?”

He looked at her through narrowed eyes, muscle working overtime in his jaw.

“C’mon, babe, look at it this way…maybe a taste will kill you,” she said.

For the first time since entering the room, a flicker of humor shot through his eyes. With a shrug, he grabbed the bottle and drank without breaking eye contact.

“I’m still alive,” he said.

“Sorry to disappoint you…again.” Needing to touch him, she reached for the scar that zigzagged across his forehead.

He flinched away from her touch.

“You need to leave. You don’t owe me anything,” he said without looking at her face.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth and studied his bent head before answering. “This isn’t about owing you anything.”

He met her gaze then, annoyance flashing in the brown depths. But there was something else there, too…pain so intense she took a step back.

“What is wrong with you?” he asked. “Just because I’m in this chair doesn’t mean that you can bully me.”

“Am I bullying you?” She grinned at the idea of bullying him. He’d always been the badass Marine with more arrogance than necessary. Her independence clashed with his attitude more often than not, but that had been a good thing. Maybe—just maybe—he’d missed it. “I brought you fast food and alcohol. We even had a fight. I think you like that I’m here. I’m livening things up. You looked pretty bored when I walked in.”

He grabbed her hand before she could snag another fry. He squeezed her fingers so hard she thought her bones would snap. “Look at me. I’m not the man you married. I’m not even a Marine anymore. Look at me.”

She only saw the man she loved who stared back with desperation in his eyes. She saw his hair thicker and longer than she’d ever seen it before and liked it. She saw his teeth sink into his lower lip and wanted them sinking into her skin. She only saw Michael.

“You’re still the sexiest man on the planet,” she said.

“You’re delusional.” He dropped her hand as if the mere touch of her skin sickened him.

“Maybe I am.”

“What are you getting out of this?”

“A headache.”

“I can’t. I’m changed. We’ll never be able to be like we were.” He looked at his legs. “Not like how you remember me anyway. I’m different now.”

“So am I. We’re all different.”

“It’s more than that and you know it. You and me…sex…there will be…expectations.”

“I see, so I should pretend you don’t exist because you feel awkward about sex? You must not think much of me, Colonel.” She bit out his rank between clenched teeth.

“When I see you that’s what I want, are you satisfied now? Right now I would like to throw you up against that counter, rip those jeans from you and fuck you. I remember how we were together. That’s what I want. I can’t do that. Do you hear me? I can’t have what I want and seeing you is torture for me. I can’t have you.”

Silence quaked in the room.

She put both of her hands on his knees, conscious that he couldn’t feel her touch. “You keep talking about what you’ve lost, but you haven’t lost me. Don’t you see that? You may not be a Marine anymore and you may not be able to walk anymore, but you have me. I love you. I need you. Can’t that be enough? And you have your son. What about him? He needs you, too. You haven’t lost him.”

“I wish you hadn’t come here.”

“Too bad, I’m here. Deal with it.” She moved onto his lap and moved her hands over his shoulders. “What’s the problem?”

“Stop this,” he whispered.

“You want me to kiss you. You want to kiss me back.” She could see it in his eyes, the need, the desire, the question. “Is that what you want, Michael?”

“What would that prove?”

“Does it have to prove something? Can’t a kiss be a kiss?”

“No.”

“Typical man.” She leaned within a fraction of his lips. “Don’t you remember high school? Don’t you remember when a kiss meant everything?”

In a sudden move, he grabbed the back of her head and ground his lips against hers. She knew the intensity was meant to shock her so she matched it with her own. She sat on his lap and plunged her tongue into the recesses of his mouth until he moaned. His free hand squeezed her breast through the thin material of her blouse but, instead of hurting, it ignited her blood.

The Michael she knew still lived inside this man. She felt him in the warmth of his mouth, the strength of his hands on her body, the restrained power of his touch.

She couldn’t stop touching him, hands moved through his hair, over his face, along his shoulders. Alive. Here. She fought back a Hallelujah.

Buy Links:

Amazon: http://getBook.at/REALEaston

Barnes and Noble: http://bit.ly/Z4F3qj

All Romance Ebooks: http://goo.gl/d7RRSt

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/14lTKrb

Contact information:

http://www.amberleaeaston.com,

http://www.facebook.com/AuthorAmberLeaEaston

and Twitter http://www.twitter.com/MtnMoxieGirl

Author Bio:

Amber Lea Easton is a multi-published author of both nonfiction and fiction. She spent years working in journalism and advertising with a brief detour into the financial sector. She has three published romantic suspense novels—”Kiss Me Slowly”, “Riptide”, and “Reckless Endangerment”—and a contemporary romance novella, “Anonymity.” Her memoir about surviving the suicide of loved one, “Free Fall”, published in September 2013.

Easton is also an editor and professional speaker. Links to radio interviews can be located on her website, http://amberleaeaston.com, and her videos about romance writing have been showcased internationally on the Writers and Authors television network.

Easton currently lives with her two teenagers in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. She gives thanks daily for the view outside her window and healthy children. As long as she’s writing, she considers herself to be simply “a lucky lady liv’n the dream.”

#Reblog: Get Your Fingers Out of Your Ears and Listen Up! from @mtnmoxiegirl

The following is a portion of a blog that needs to go VIRAL. Much too often Indie and self published authors get accused of publishing poorly edited books. Either they didn’t bother to get an editor or thought their best friend from middle school could handle the job since they got all A’s in English back then. Well, news flash! That sort of thinking won’t cut it in this business. If you want to be taken seriously, you have to invest in yourself and in your work. Finding an experienced editor in your genre is a MUST. If you end up with one you clash with, then maybe you need to search for another. You need one who will be tough, but fair and help you put your best work out there. I did a blog post about it on Writer’s Words of Wisdom a few weeks ago. Click HERE to read that.

Today’s reblog is from Amber Lea Easton’s Kisses, Caresses and Whispers in the Night. Read it and take the advice to heart. Bad or self editing will earn you a horrible reputation as a writer. Great editing will teach you so much more than you ever thought you knew about your book, writing in general and yourself. What have you got to lose besides sales of your books?

~Tammy

Get Your Fingers Out of Your Ears and Listen Up!

In addition to being an author, I’m also an editor. I’ve heard it all or so it seems. Lately, I’ve been involved with some aspiring authors, though, who are astounding me with their inability to accept feedback of any kind. During the past few weeks, I’ve heard comments like “grammar doesn’t apply to fiction writing”…”I never listen to feedback, it’s my story and I’ll do with it as I please”…”that’s just your opinion” (yes, it is, but it’s based on a successful track record and years of experience)…”no one can tell me how to write”…”I’m self-published so am an expert in publishing”…”feedback is for the insecure.”
Nah-nah-nah-nah! It’s like dealing with pouting toddlers!

Well, I can’t listen anymore. I started out as a journalist too many years ago to admit. I had editors who would scream–literally scream with their faces turning red and veins bursting at their necks–and I knew I had to take it because I was paying my dues. At the television station I worked for, our news editor kicked a trash can across the room at least once a day. Did any of us dare utter any of the phrases above? Hell, no! Guess what? I learned along the way. I didn’t know it all.

For more of this blog click HERE

@mtnmoxiegirl Reveals the Cover of Her Memoir #FreeFall

Welcome back, peeps! I’m excited to have one of my dear friends and fellow author Amber Lea Easton here today to reveal the cover of her soon to be released memoir Free Fall. Here’s the blurb of this labor of love.

One moment is all it takes to change a life forever. In one instant—in my husband’s final act—he stripped away my identity as wife, stay at home mom, and best friend. In one moment our world crumbled from beneath our feet. He’d been the center of our universe, but then he was gone. Everything I ever believed to be true unraveled before my eyes.

Free Fall is our journey of piecing our lives back together again—overcoming children’s anxiety as we traversed the brutal grief and trauma process, learning to say the words “widow” and “single mom” without cringing, surviving the fall out with friends and family who simply couldn’t understand our journey, triumphing over the stigma of “suicide”, forgiving my husband, and finding peace after chaos.

Grief is a dark journey, one often tainted with judgment and false perceptions. Add the word ‘suicide’ to the mix and more complications arise, both internally and externally. This memoir is intended for anyone who may be facing their own tragedy and feeling alone, hopeless, confused, scared, and misunderstood. This story is for other widows, widowers, survivors of suicide, family members or friends of one who mourns, or anyone who needs encouragement that there is another side to grief. There is. We’re there now. We’re looking back and holding our hands out to you saying, “hang in there, you’re not alone, and you’ll get here, too.”

Can you imagine having to try to go on living without your rock, your soul mate? It’s absolutely my worst nightmare and my dear friend has had to live it. Not only has she had to get through each day missing the love of her life, she’s had to do it and still stay strong for her kids. Being both mother and father to them and keep up with the demands of her writing career has had to be a humongous challenge. I don’t know how she’s made it through…but I’m grateful she has. Without her I don’t think I’d have made it to the point where I’m at in my writing career. She’s been my cheerleader, confidant and a shoulder to cry on when things just didn’t seem to go right no matter what I did with my writing. So when she let me know she was ready to reveal the cover of her memoir, I jumped at the chance to feature it on all of my blogs. I want to show her that I admire her ‘moxie” and know all of you will too.

So without further adieu…

About the Author

Amber Lea Easton is a multi-published cross genre author of romantic suspense, action adventure, mystery thrillers. Her current releases cross all boundaries and appeal to a wide audience. If you love a clever plot, action that will leave you breathless, riveting characters and sexy love scenes, her books will appeal to you. “Smart is sexy,” Easton says, which is why she focuses on smart heroines who always have a lot to lose yet find the courage to face their fears to overcome adversity. She’s an avid reader of all genres or “whatever turns her on in the moment”.

Easton grew up in Hartford, South Dakota, where she spent her time daydreaming of big adventures over the horizon under a giant blue South Dakota sky. Now living in Colorado, she’s an avid traveler who incorporates her real life travels into her novels as much as possible (minus the illegal activities her characters become immersed in–she swears). To her, setting is another character in the novel and often serves as an inspiration. Love is her motivation for all things–whether it be writing, traveling, playing with her dogs or hanging with her two teenagers–if it’s not done with love, then what’s the point?

Where to Find Amber

Website

Amazon

Smashwords

Barnes and Noble

Bookstrand

Twitter

Facebook

Lies, Betrayal, Heartbreak, Oh MY!

I’ve never been too fond of Mondays until I started up Oh My! Mondays to showcase steamy hot excerpts from some fantastic authors. This week I’m thrilled to welcome back to Behind Closed Doors, my friend and fellow Siren author, Amber Lea Easton. Today she’s sharing an excerpt that will melt your panties off and leave you begging for more. Would you risk it all for a chance to get your happily ever after or are you the type who is afraid to take any chances at all? Let’s see what Amber has to say about taking risks…

Riptide cover — Available now from Bookstrand

Risk: a word that terrifies some people. Artists take risks when they put their heart on display for the world to judge. Policemen, firefighters, and military take risks when they rush in when we’re rushing out.
We human beings take risks all the time whether we’re conscious of it or not–when we decide to call the guy back, make eye contact with that hottie we’ve been daydreaming about for weeks, quit our jobs for something better, leave a relationship that’s comfortable for the unknown, buy that dress that’s more seductive than our “usual style” or reinvent ourselves so we can live the life we’ve always dreamed. All of those are risks that may not be life-threatening, but can certainly feel like it.
In Riptide, my hero and heroine have learned the hard way that people lie, that betrayal is too easy for some, but they risk being hurt again when they open their hearts to one another.
That’s what love is about…trusting one other person with your raw and open heart, letting go of the fear of rejection for that adrenaline rush, breaking down the walls that protect you, and risking it all for your chance at happily ever after. It’s not easy ..but, as they saying goes, nothing worthwhile ever is.

Blurb from Riptide

One violent night shatters Lauren Biltmore’s life. As an anchorwoman, she’s accustomed to reporting the news rather than being the lead story. She escapes the spotlight by fleeing to her brother’s home in the Cayman Islands. Haunted by nightmares, all she wants is a distraction from reality.

Distraction arrives via sexy screenwriter Noah Reynolds. His take-me-to-bed looks mask a past ripe with scandal. He knows he should stay away from Lauren, especially when the worst night of her life unlocks his writer’s block and while he’s dealing with a stalker of his own, but ethics are his weakness.

Attraction sizzles beneath Caribbean sunshine. As their relationship grows, Noah’s stalker intensifies her torment. Lauren wonders if her paranoia is justified or a carryover from her past. What’s real? What’s imagined?

Tentative trust is tested as their love is swept up against a riptide of deceit, murder, and revenge.

Adult Excerpt

“Hey, sexy lady.” He sat behind her, pulled her between his legs and rested his chin on her shoulder. “What do you think of my boat now?”

She sipped her wine before tilting her head to look at him. “There’s more to it than meets the eye, kind of like the captain.”

“Captain, huh?” He moved her hair and kissed the back of her neck. “I don’t suppose I could get you to call me sir for a few hours?”

“Oh, I see what your game is.” She laughed and leaned her head back to allow him easier access to her neck. “Whatever you say, sir. Your boat, your rules.”

“Good answer.” His mouth toyed with her earlobe. “I like having you all to myself. Seems like we’re always interrupted at the house.”

She twisted her head to look him in the eye. “Are you thinking about the house?”

“Not right now.” He brushed her hair from her face. Damn, she was beautiful.

He kissed her neck. She tasted like salt air and citrus. He unzipped her dress and smoothed his hands over her bare back. When his fingers slipped over her ribs, he heard her sharp intake of breath. Smiling against her neck, he moved his hands over her breasts. Squeezed. His mouth toyed with her ear. He liked the way her breasts filled his hands perfectly, as if they were made for him.

He kissed the line of her jaw as his hands slid over her flat abdomen. He felt the scar and traced it with his thumbs before sliding his hands back over her breasts.

Her hand gripped the back of his head as she ground her lips against his. Her mouth was wet and urgent beneath his, her tongue insistent.

He pulled the dress from her shoulders before pushing her down. Dragging his mouth from hers, he raised up enough to look down at her bare torso. Stunned by the intensity of emotion that flooded through him, he buried his face between her breasts and pinned her wrists against her sides.

Wine spilled. Both the bottle and glasses rolled toward the edge.

His mouth made love to first one breast and then the other. He savored every inch of her skin. She squirmed beneath him, but he refused to release her wrists. She needed to surrender, to enjoy being worshipped.

“Noah, please,” she said, her squirming making him insane with desire. “I need you inside me. Please. You’re torturing me.”

He slid down, his teeth pulled at the silky material of her panties. He released her wrists and moved his hands over her naked torso as his teeth worked her panties lower over her hips.

“Damn it, Noah. You’re killing me.”

He smiled against her hipbone. “Relax. We’re gonna get there.”

He pulled her panties and her dress from her legs and tossed them aside without looking away from her body. He ran his hands up her long legs, kissed the inside of her knees, licked the inside of her thighs, tasted the center of her, felt her body contract around his fingers as he slid them inside her. Wet and hot, she tasted sweet and intoxicating.

Her body arched beneath his mouth. Her hands were in his hair. She moaned his name over and over.

He kissed a trail over her abdomen, lingered again on her breasts, moved to her neck before merging his mouth with hers. She pulled his shirt off of his shoulders while he fumbled with the zipper of his shorts with one hand. Muttering something against his mouth, she pushed hard until he rolled onto his back, taking her with him.

She bent over him, hair trailing across his face as she kissed his neck and chest. Her hands pulled his shorts low, reached for his penis before her tongue licked the tip. He rolled his head back and gasped for air.

“Condom in my pocket,” he said between gritted teeth.

She knelt over him, hair blowing across her face as she rummaged in the pocket of his shorts for the condom.

“Give it here.” Propped on an elbow, he grabbed the package and ripped it open. Damn, he needed to be inside this woman with an urgency he hadn’t felt in years—if ever. The need pulsated through his veins and reverberated in his ears.

And then she was on him, rocking, hair blowing across her face, hands pressing against his chest, breasts moving with her rhythm, body silhouetted by stars in a night sky. She looked like a sea goddess having her way with him. He grabbed her waist and ground his hips against hers. She leaned over and kissed him with an urgency that shook him like an earthquake.

He rolled her back over and thrust into her again and again, needing to go deep. They were a tangle of limbs as their bodies merged in a desperate dance. Mouths found one another. Breath caught between them. When he climaxed, he let out a shout. She laughed—breathless—her nails scratching down his back.

“I can’t get enough of you.” Her breath brushed against the sweat of his neck.

“I know what you mean.” He muttered against the top of her head. “Damn, I want to do that again.” He kissed her forehead. “And again.” He kissed her lips and lingered. “And again.”

“Stay inside me. Don’t move.” She fisted her hands in his hair and looked him in the eye. “I think my dress blew overboard.”

He laughed, enjoying the feel of her legs still wrapped around him. “Do you care?”

“Not even a little bit.” She kissed him, eyes wide open.

He held her head close and looked into her eyes. Despite everything—her history, the note on his door, the mess he was in, her pain from the past and uncertainty about the future—she was brave enough to be here with him naked on the bow of his boat surrounded by deep water and darkness.

“I was right that day at The Lazy Turtle when I said you were dangerous,” he said against her lips. “You’re the most dangerous woman I’ve ever met.”

Didn’t I tell you? Melted your panties off didn’t it? (fanning self) Want a bit more of Riptide? Check out the video trailer. Buckle up! This will knock you off your feet!

Amber Lea Easton is a multi-published fiction and nonfiction author. For twenty years, she’s worked in the fields of journalism and advertising with a brief detour into the financial industry. Although she holds a BA in Communications & Journalism, she is a perpetual student of life who enjoys taking post-graduate courses on a wide variety of subjects when time allows. Smart is sexy, according to Easton, which is why she writes about strong female characters who have their flaws and challenges, but who ultimately persevere.
Easton currently lives with her two teenagers in the Colorado Rocky Mountains where she gives thanks daily for the gorgeous view outside her window. She finds inspiration from traveling, the people she meets, nature and life’s twists and turns. At the end of the day, as long as she’s writing, she considers herself to be simply “a lucky lady liv’n the dream.”

Where to find Amber and Riptide

Siren Bookstrand

Amber’s Website

Facebook

Guest spot on The House of Taboo

Thank you for sharing with us today, Amber! For those of you who want another look at Riptide, head over to my sister blog Sassy Vixen Publishing on August 9th when she shares the first thirteen sentences of the book. And yeah…they are SMOKIN’! See ya there! ~Tammy

I’m visiting another blog today!

Hello all!

My friend and fellow author, Amber Lea Easton was kind enough to let me take over her blog today. I shared what it was like to pour my heart and soul out into my writing. Come on over and leave a comment. Let me know what you think of the poem I put up in the post. If you like that one, check out the whole collection in Follow Me: Poetry from the Heart and Soul.

Here’s the link to Amber’s Blog: http://amberleaeaston.blogspot.com/2012/01/was-it-all-dream-guest-author-post-by.html

I’m Guest Blogging Today

Join me over on Amber Lea Easton’s blog Kisses, Caresses and Whispers in the Dark. I share an interview with one of my favorite characters in For the Love of Quinn, Anthony Mancouso. As Steve’s best friend and former right hand man, he knows all of the Vegas tycoon’s secrets including some about Quinn. He will make appearances in all of the books in my Now and Forever series and even have a book of his own to tell his story.

Come on over to Amber’s blog and leave a comment. I will be giving away a framed copy of another one of my poems The Thunder and the Rain.

Happy Cyber Monday!

Interview with Kiss Me Slowly characters Jon and Grace

Author Amber Lea Easton sits down with her characters in Kiss Me Slowly to find out what brought them together and how they had to work through some old baggage in order to work together. Let’s check in with them now…

Setting: Sidewalk cafe in South Beach, Miami, Florida. Humidity is heavy in the air. Mojitos are flowing faster than the bartender can make them. Snowbirds are descending on Florida for the holiday season and flocking on the beach at our backs. The scent of grilled hamburgers mixes with the smell of suntan lotion and sea air.

Me: Today I’m talking to Jonathan Alexander III and Grace Dupont, hero and heroine of Kiss Me Slowly.

Jonathan: Well, I’m not sure I’m anyone’s hero.

Me: Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jon. You did some pretty heroic things in Kiss Me Slowly.

Jonathan: A week on the run makes a man who is essentially non-heroic do heroic things. That doesn’t necessarily make him a hero.

Grace: Ignore him. He’s using his “aw, shucks, ma’am charm” on you. He saved my life more than once. He’s a hero.

Jonathan: It was you that saved me, Grace.

Me: Well, let’s just say you’re both heroes and leave it at that. My call.

(Jon and Grace shift uncomfortably in their chairs.)

Me: I’m glad you two could make it. I know you’re not allowed to tell me much about where you’ve been or how long you’re staying in town, but it’s good of you take a few minutes to meet with me.

Grace: No problem. It’s nice being back on South Beach without anyone trying to kill us.

Jonathan: It’s nice being anywhere without someone trying to kill us. Refreshing.

Me: Jon, at what point did you realize that you needed to go to Grace for help? It must have been hard facing an ex-girlfriend after so many years…especially considering the break-up wasn’t exactly friendly.

Jonathan: Well…I knew I was being followed by Panama Hat Man, the company accountants had already discovered the embezzlement set-up leading to my office, and I didn’t trust anyone around me. I knew Grace and her brother Jerry were the best forensics in Miami–

Grace: The entire East Coast, actually…maybe the best in the country.

Jonathan: Egos…I swear the Duponts have the biggest egos…

Grace: Well, at least we’re honest about it instead of playing the “aw, shucks, ma’am” routine.

Jonathan: You want to do this right now? Really? Argue about egos? And are you really calling the Duponts “honest”? (Smiling, he winks at her before taking a long drink of his mojito.) Anyway, like I was saying…I didn’t trust anyone around me anymore. My only choice…my only hope…was going to Grace and hoping she could use her giant ego and brilliance to save my ass.

Grace: I like how you did that there…her giant ego and brilliance…an insult and a compliment all in one. Sweet, baby. Classy. (She orders another mojito from the waitress.)

Me: Grace, were you ever tempted to let him take the fall? I know your past must have been hard to overcome at first. I mean, here’s the man who broke your heart, who walked away without ever looking back, who suddenly shows up needing your genius to save him. Did it ever cross your mind to simply tell him no?

iStock_000017412475Small — Kiss Me Slowly Book Trailor

Grace: (long silence as she pokes the ice in her empty glass with a straw) I may have toyed with the idea at first, but once the heart loves someone, despite the circumstances of the ending, it never really stops loving that person. I had to do whatever I could do to help. We didn’t have time for hesitation.

Me: No, you didn’t have much time at all, did you?

(Jonathan and Grace look at each other, smiles hinting at secrets and heartache.)

Grace: No, we couldn’t hesitate.

Jonathan: Time was up. All we could do was…well, all we could do was what we did. Run. Stall. Try to stay one step ahead.

Grace: Try to stay alive.

An excerpt of Kiss Me Slowly

“You have blood on your dress.” He fingered the strap in question that had slipped off her shoulder. “You should probably take it off.”

“Careful. We can’t go there.” Sand clung to her neck and stuck to the tangles in her hair. The light from the bedside lamp shadowed her face.

“I meant change out of it, not…well, maybe I meant take it off. But then we’d be crossing lines that you don’t want to cross.” He let his fingers trail down her arm. “That would be wrong. Terribly wrong.”

“You are nothing but trouble.”

“You always liked trouble.” He rested his right palm against the bed, supporting his weight on his healthy arm.

“Listen carefully to me.” She pressed her finger against his lips. “I’m high on adrenaline, we’re alone, no witnesses, no regrets. One kiss won’t hurt anyone.”

“No witnesses, no regrets…” Heat flooded his veins. “Adrenaline…”

“If I don’t do this now, I’ll hate myself in the morning.”

“You mean you’ll regret it when they lock me up in the morning and throw away the key because you didn’t kiss me one last time?”

“Exactly.” She straddled his lap.

“You weren’t supposed to agree.” He smiled despite the circumstances.

“Shut up, sailor boy. Kiss me.”

She kissed him as if savoring the taste. Her hair fell forward, locking them in a caramel-colored veil of intimacy. Eyes open, they stared at each other as their lips moved against each other’s.

His hands slid up her long thighs, over her panties and pressed against the smoothness of her back. Every stroke of her lips against his awakened pure need in his veins. He no longer cared about what was right or wrong. All he wanted was her mouth on his, his hands on her body and her skin against his.

With a quick yank, she pulled her dress over her head. Breasts bared, she pressed him down on the bed and laughed against his mouth. “This is crossing all kinds of boundaries and breaking every rule I can think of.”

“Just like the old days.” He smiled against her lips. His hands moved over her bared breasts. The pain in his shoulder failed to slow him down. He didn’t know who groaned or if they both did, but the sensation of her flesh filling his palms trumped common sense.

Her bare foot slid over his leg, hands curled into his hair, and body flattened against his. All the anger, the terror and confusion poured from him as he deepened the kiss with an urgency that bordered on desperation. The silky warmth of her mouth erased his pain. Kissing her felt like coming home from an exhausting, lonely journey.

“A kiss…that’s all I wanted,” she muttered against his chin. A shiver quaked through her body when she sighed.

“I want more.”

“Impossible. We can’t.”

“We can do whatever the hell we want, Grace.” Despite the burning pain in his left shoulder, he maneuvered so that his body covered hers. He wanted more than a kiss. He wanted more heat.