Tuesday, June 30, 2009
That's the best part about writing. You can take your fantasies and bring them to life. Yvan walking across the sand toward you; his skin hot from the sun, his amazing body on display for your eyes to devour, and his eyes alight with desire while a wicked grin teases his lips. Oh, yeah, I'm there. . .
He enlarges very nicely, too.
Hmm, let me see now. . . . Where were we? Oh, yes. . . I remember. . . .
The first thing Laura noticed was the spicy scent of his cologne carried toward her on the breeze. Nothing overpowering; just enough to capture her attention--which was wandering anyway. The pages of her novel swam before her eyes. Even with sunglasses and a visor, the book was almost too bright to look at. Glancing up, she gazed out over the ocean, the outlines of sun worshipers silhouetted against the waves to remind her where she was.
As if she needed reminding. The signs posted all up and down the beach had warned her. "Nude bathing permitted. Adults only."
Having seen that, she should have turned right around and gone back to her hotel room to hide. As it was, she knew she was overdressed, though, generally speaking, a string bikini shouldn't have made anyone feel that way. The nude bodies she'd seen scattered about made her feel out of place, which was unfortunate, because it had taken every bit of her courage just to wear the bikini.
"Go to the islands," everyone had said. "You'll forget all about him." Yeah, right. Like anything--or anyone--could make her forget Alan.
The cad. There was no other word fit to describe a man who would have two girlfriends trying to plan a surprise birthday party for him at the same time. It was just luck that they'd each tried to book the same restaurant for the party. What a joke!
Laura hadn't been smiling at the time, but the look on his face when they'd confronted him together was priceless. Not quite worth the pain, but still. . . .
"Would you like something from the bar, Miss? A pina colada, perhaps?"
His voice was softly accented, evoking all sorts of exotic imagery in her mind, and his intoxicating scent was stronger now; suntan oil combined with hot, male body and a light cologne. Closing her eyes, the mental image of a tall, dark island boy took shape.
"Miss?" he repeated.
Reality struck home and the image vanished. "Do you have any idea how many calories there are in a pina colada?" she asked with a short laugh.
"Ah, but you are on vacation," he said wisely. "You should be having fun and not worrying about calories."
"Well, what happens on this island might stay on the island," she said wearily, "but the pounds I pack on will certainly follow me all the way home." Sighing deeply, she added, "But I might as well splurge a little. After all, you only live once."
She turned as she said this and gasped in astonishment as her eyes swept up a tan, muscular, torso to a handsome face adorned with a tangle of unruly blond hair. Lowering her eyes didn't help at all because his luscious cock and balls were right there in front of her face, so close she could smell them. In fact, if his thatch of pubic hair hadn't been trimmed, it would have been tickling her nose.
He chuckled wickedly. "Unless you would prefer something less. . . fattening."
Laura bit her lip and looked up. His laughing eyes met hers and she couldn't help but smile back at him. "Something tells me that would be a very bad idea."
His cock twitched as he shrugged. "One pina colada then," he said with a trace of disappointment. Reaching out a hand, he brushed her cheek lightly with his knuckle before turning away.
Laura lay back in her chaise feeling a heat in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the sun. Apparently the waiters here were more than willing to provide "other" services along with the usual drinks and munchies--but she wasn't in the market for that. She was here to relax and forget. She attempted to go back to her book, but movement to her left caught her eye. She looked over in that direction and did a double take, blinking hard. There were two men fucking (there was no other way to put it) on a blanket not ten feet from where she sat.
Clapping a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, her eyes frantically searched the beach for a cop. Surely that was illegal! However, looking further, she saw another couple (heterosexual this time) engaged in a similar activity, which led her to believe that sexual intercourse was at least tolerated, if not condoned. Why on earth hadn't she noticed it earlier? "Because you've had your head down and your nose in a book ever since you saw the sign, that's why," she muttered aloud.
The two men had their backs to her. About all she could see of the one underneath were the back of his thighs, his balls, and taut penis, while the one on top had the most squeezable, muscular buns she'd ever seen. He was a hunk, too, with dark curls kissing the nape of his neck. Laura gazed in fascination as his scrotum swung back and forth, his testicles hitting his partner behind the nuts with each thrust. A rush of sexual excitement flooded her pelvis and her nipples tingled with anticipation. She had no idea that watching two men getting it on could be quite so. . . stimulating.
She was openly gaping at them when a frothy glass suddenly dropped into her line of sight, effectively blocking her view.
"Here's your drink," her waiter said.
Laura gasped and sputtered as she fumbled for her bag. "H-how much to I owe you?"
"Nothing," he replied. "I was buying you a drink, not selling you one."
Her eyes widened. This bronzed sex god was buying drinks for her? It was as though every fantasy she'd ever had had suddenly sprung to life. "You mean you don't work at the bar?"
"No, I don't," he replied as he handed her the glass. With a nod toward the men she'd been watching, he added, "Looks like they're having a good time, doesn't it?"
Laura took a sip of her drink for something to do and found it difficult to swallow. "I--yes, I guess so."
"I prefer women myself," he continued. "Dark-haired, exotic beauties--" he paused for a moment as he pulled up another chaise, "--like you."
Laura took a big gulp of the sweet, icy concoction. "Ohhh, that was a mistake," she moaned as the brain freeze hit her. "I should have asked for it on the rocks instead of frozen."
"I'll remember that," he promised. Stretching out on his chaise, he leaned back with his hands behind his head, looking more like a centerfold than ever.
This can't be real, she thought, but couldn't help noticing that his dick was a little longer and thicker now--or was it just her imagination running wild?
"My name is Yvan," he added. "And I want to learn everything there is to know about you."
"That shouldn't take long," Laura said dryly. "There isn't much to tell." It might have been his standard pick-up line, but her eyes were not deceiving her: he was definitely getting hard, and the longer she looked, the more it seemed to swell.
"I doubt that," he said, shifting his hips so that his penis lay stretched out on his stomach. It was almost long enough to reach his navel, and still growing. "Why don't you start with why you are here in this beautiful, romantic place all alone?"
"How do you know I'm alone?" she asked. "I might just be by myself for the day, or--" She broke off there, realizing that lying to him was pointless. He was smiling at her as though he'd expected her to say that very thing--a smile that was quickly turning her to mush. . . .
To be continued on Thursday. . . .
Monday, June 29, 2009
If I'm still around, that is. I see sadness and hatred and misfortune all around me and I can't help thinking just how lucky I am. I have a husband and two sons that I adore, reasonably good health, a good job, and good friends. Getting some books published is just icing on the cake.
But that icing tastes pretty good, and so does the eye candy--whether you actually get to sink your teeth into it or not. Life, and the hunks, are ours to enjoy. So let's continue to make the most of them!
How do you like these buns, Ana?
Sunday, June 28, 2009
I went to Ryan Boyd and found another great pic of Justin. He's adorable!
Stop right here if you don't think you can take this. . . .
I mean it! BE WARNED!!!!!
OMG, Leslie! What did you do?????
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Since we couldn't see Justin's buns yesterdat, here's one for Ana's expert inspection. I found this one at Ryan Boyd Models, as Donna suggested. Looks like a site someone (this means you, Sharon!) might want to subscribe to.
Still waiting for Mikey to design your Hunkybuns Seal of Approval, Ana. We may be waiting for a very long time...
I'm working this weekend, so you all have fun without me. *sob!*
Friday, June 26, 2009
This one isn't quite so controversial--he's just, plain cute, which, if you haven't figured it out by now, is one of my preferences. His name is Justin Seitz, and though he may not have a weasel of record length, he has other fine qualities to recommend him. Great body, charming smile, the kind of fluffy hair my fingers would love to get lost in, and, yes, a yummydoodle that looks, well . . . yummy!
I did use a picture of him once before, but you couldn't see his face very well in that one, which is unfortunate because he's actually quite adorable--and a bit of a tease!
I received the copyedited manuscript for Fugitive yesterday, and, fortunately, they didn't do much to it. They used a different copyeditor this time, and her style is slightly different from that of the previous editor, who had a very light touch--either that, or he was too distracted by the story line to notice my mistakes. There were only a few minor details to sort out, so I was able to get through it last night without screaming, which was a first! I'll go through it a few more times, but though I'll be working on it for the next several days, you can all rest assured that there will always be hunks posted here for you to drool over at your leisure.
To those of you who are new to the blog, there are plenty of things in the archives to keep you busy, as Cecile discovered Wednesday night! We're all about having fun here at CBEB, so go for it!
In other news, I was contacted yesterday by someone at RWA about being interviewed by a Swedish journalist at the RWA conference in July. They wanted to interview a writer with a medical background, so my name came up. I said okay, but I'm still wondering why that medical background is important. I mean, God knows I don't write about doctors! Either way, it should be interesting. I'll keep you posted on the details.
Well, I'm off to read through Fugitive again . . . and again . . . and again. . . .
Oh, be sure to click on the pictures of Justin, ladies. He's even better when he's, you know. . . ENLARGED???
PS: Hey, Kendra! Think we can find a guy like this to do body shots with while we're in DC?????
Nah, prob'ly not. . . .
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Let me see now. . . . *taps chin*
Where did I put it. . . ?
Ah-ha! Here it is!
This is that recipe that I made a while back and couldn't taste.
However, I can taste it now, and, trust me, it's VERY good!
1/2 cup flour
1/2 tsp black pepper
1/2 tsp paprika
2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, butterflied, pounded until thin and cut into bite-sized pieces
2-3 Tbsp Olive oil
1/4 cup butter, divided
1 clove garlic, minced
1 cup white wine
1/2 cup chicken broth
juice of one lemon, strained
2 Tbsp capers
2 tsp parsley flakes
Noodles or pasta of choice, cooked as directed
Prepare chicken as above. Mix flour, pepper, and paprika in a bowl with a tight-fitting lid. Add chicken pieces and shake until coated. Heat oil in skillet over medium high heat, add garlic and saute until lightly browned. Remove garlic, add 2 Tbsp butter and then add chicken and cook until browned on all sides.
Remove chicken and add the wine to the skillet. Cook about 5 minutes until reduced by half, then add remaining ingredients, including 2 Tbsp butter. Return chicken to skillet and cook over medium heat until the sauce thickens.
Add cooked pasta or noodles to the skillet just before serving and toss to coat. Makes 2-3 servings.
The hunk is optional.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Even before our discussion on Tuesday (not to mention Kendra's blog post!) I'd already come to the conclusion that what makes Benji such a favorite among you ladies of the blog is not his body (though it is certainly to die for!) nor is it his kissable lips, or even his obviously large yummydoodle (or are we calling it a weasel now? I forget...), but his fascinating eyes. Smoldering hazel with clearly defined brows in an intriguing shape, they promise all manner of sensual delights. I also believe there is something about that two-toned iris that draws your attention; the dark edge with the lighter middle leaves the pupil more clearly defined and makes it very obvious that he is looking right at you. Coupled with that thatch of unruly dark hair, (and the rest of him!) the combination is quite compelling.
Unfortunately, it's difficult to convey those characteristics in a novel. You can describe them all you like, but it's the way they make you feel when you're looking at them that makes the difference. Therefore, instead of focusing on the actual size, shape, and color, a writer must emphasize the way our heroine reacts when she gazes into those portals to his heroic soul. Is she frightened, mesmerized, comforted, or sexually stimulated? And when the villain locks eyes with our hero, does he think twice before carrying on with his dastardly plans? I don't know about you, but that steely-eyed glare would certainly make me back down--no matter what I was up to! It's also rather predatory. His expression says he's found a target, but whether it is for love or destruction remains to be seen.
The best part about eyes is that they can change to reflect mood. Look at this one and you'll see the difference. Same guy, same pool, same float, similar pose, but the expression is completely different. Those eyes promise fun, warmth, and sensual delights beyond your wildest dreams.
Now, which would you rather have? A hero who glares at everyone, or who saves that forbidding look for when it's truly appropriate, ie, when he's facing down the bad guy? For me, it's no contest. I don't want a man who scares me. I want eyes that smile and say, "Come on over here, sweetheart. I won't bite. . . unless, of course, you want me to."
PS: Here are two more terrific examples.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
. . . and the hunks you will find if you go in search of them! I believe I saw more naked men yesterday than I've ever seen before in my life, and I've been in nursing since 1973! Of course, I've never seen ANYTHING like these guys in the hospital!
This sample is only the tip of the iceberg. I believe I've found where Sharon has been hiding. . . and subsequently been inspired to write one of the hotter scenes of my writing career. But you'll have to wait until Hero is published to read it!
I'm guest blogging today on Moonlight to Twilight! Come on over!
Monday, June 22, 2009
I'm trying to gear up for the time when I go to Washington DC for the RWA national conference, where I'll be meeting a lot of my fellow authors, as well as my editor at Sourcebooks, and possibly other editors and agents and publishers. This is something I've rarely done in my life--at least, not all by my lonesome--and I'm both anxious and nervous. I've taken a lot of risks, both with my writing and with this blog. What will they say to me? Will they care what I've done? More importantly, will I care what they think? I don't know, but I do know that I've had fun with it, and with all of you ladies who read my books and visit the blog.
I went into this venture with the idea of doing something fun for a living, rather than dealing with the pitfalls of nursing and seeing people at their very worst, but, occasionally, you see some people at their best: dealing with the illnesses that life has thrown at them with grace and good humor.
I had the privilege of caring for a young man for the past few days who, though his condition is terminal, can still laugh and tell us "Don't touch my nuts" when we were finding peanuts in his bed. Actually, I'd already touched his other nuts, which I pointed out to him, but we all got a good laugh out of it, anyway. Afterward, my friend Suzie made the comment that he didn't know who he was dealing with.
I've met many patients and healthcare workers who have enriched my life, and I know that there are those in the publishing business who have affected me, as well. I've never met any of them face to face, just as I've never met some of the men who have inspired me, but I still feel that I can count them as friends. Either way, I'm looking forward to it.
It is now 11:01 PM. If I write any more, it will be total gibberish. Good night, and may God bless you all--including the hunks.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Leo was on Fotalia, but the rest of them were right there on Dreamstime! Trust me, hunting for them was fun, especially since you could really zoom in on the photos and find others of the same model. The one for Fugitive I'm not really sure about because you can't see much of his face--it was more that it was a similar pose than anything--but I think the others are pretty obvious. I went mostly by the shape of their mouths, and with Rogue I went for the neck and cleft chin, but that jawline on Lynx was the clincher! Obviously, they've all been altered in some way. *sigh* Too bad none of them really have long, curly hair. . .
After yesterday's revelation from Donna, I just had to work on this one, myself.
There you go, Benji. You now have your book cover with your head chopped off!
LOL! Email his grandmother again, Donna. I want him to see this!
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
I was going to post a recipe today, but though I made it yesterday, took a picture of it, and ate it, I have no idea what it tasted like since this nasty cold has now robbed me of my sense of smell. The only thing about it that I could taste was the tang of the lemon juice, so until I actually taste it, I'm going to hold off posting it. Bud and Mike thought it was great, so they have no problem with me making it again. It looked really good, too. *sigh*
So, instead of a recipe, here's a little something for all you soccer moms out there in blogger land. I have a feeling that David Beckham plays a role in many a soccer mom's fantasy, and I know how you all love Benji! These come to you courtesy of Donna.
Also, here is a picture of my hollyhocks, Donna. As you can see, they're a little bland. The funny thing is, the original plant had red flowers! It's been reseeding for several years now, and the new ones have lost their color.
I've got something REALLY COOL to show you all tomorrow. Don't miss it!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
I always find it amazing just how much things grow during the week I'm away on vacation. These hostas were giving me no clues that they would be in bloom when I came home, and the plants in my garden grew about a foot.
The barn swallows were still building this nest when we left--at least, it seems that way--but now, the eggs have hatched and we hear a chorus of chirps whenever anyone goes out on the porch.
I went to a wedding on Saturday and saw several people that I hadn't seen in many years, and was amazed by how much they'd aged. I've done the same thing myself, of course, but I see that in the mirror every day and the change has been gradual. I still don't like it, but at least I've had time to get used to the idea.
Sometimes that rapid change is a good thing: helpless babies become engaging toddlers in a very short time, and gawky teens turn into handsome young men almost overnight, but other times, it's rather sad. Once vibrant young faces become careworn and lined, and that spring you remember in their step (and your own) seems to have gone missing.
I planted some of the bamboos I bought in Myrtle Beach in a pot on my deck and I took this picture for future reference. I've heard that it can grow so fast you can almost watch it happening. It hasn't yet, but we have photographic evidence that it isn't very big. I'll be on hand to watch it growing, but you won't see it until later on. Should be interesting.
Monday, June 15, 2009
BTW, Sorry the picture is so small, but Tom has long blond hair, (usually in a braid) and Blond Muddy Guy was the only good example I could find! Ooo, Sharon! Here's a Hunk Hunting Mission for you: Find a larger version of this photo, or others like him. I'd be ever so grateful, and I know you'd enjoy yourself enormously!
But what if I hadn't been so tired the night before? What if, as he'd suggested, he'd joined in with Zack, licking me in the face? What if . . . ? . . . . I stood it for as long as I could, but when I put my hands up to fend off Zack, I found that there were two of them, for, taking his cue from the dog, Tom had pounced on me as well and had begun licking me on the cheek. I didn't know which one to push away first. After a couple of tries, I found that I couldn't budge Tom, and Zack, who was never one to take a hint, came right back for more as soon as I gave him a shove. It was becoming apparent that I was going to have to either scream or hurt one of them to get them to stop. Actually, I had discovered long ago that just not laughing anymore was deterrent enough for Zack, but Tom had gone from licking to kissing and wasn't taking the hint. Not only that, but, being much bigger, he had crowded the dog away from me, as well. So much for being a patient fellow. . . .
I wondered how long ago his wife had left him. I found it hard to believe that he could have been that hard up for women, for though he wasn't what you'd call soap-opera star handsome, he had a definite appeal—an animal magnetism that I'd felt the moment I met him. He was the sort of guy who, if I'd been at all susceptible, would have had me racking my brain for excuses to get this close to him. As it was, though, I was racking my brain for ways to get him off of me, the obvious choice being a knee in the groin, a technique which, while I was in an excellent position to use the time, seemed a bit harsh under the circumstances. In the end, I opted for a verbal reprimand, only to have my mouth covered by his as soon as I opened it. His kiss on my lips was no more intrusive than the ones he had scattered across my face—in fact, it was rather sweet: not erotic or demanding at all—but it did silence me, which was undoubtedly his intention.
I hadn't been kissed by anyone but Daniel in such a long time that I was somewhat stunned by it as a result. Not that Tom was doing anything out of the ordinary by any means, but having a man who was a virtual stranger kiss me in such a way was so shockingly intimate that my body responded to it with a jolt. Now, instead of trying to push him away, I found myself twisting my fingers into his hair and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until our tongues met and his entire body was pressed down upon mine. I could feel his erection hard against my stomach; urgent need replacing the sweet embrace with astonishing swiftness. As his tongue delved deeply into my mouth, somewhere in the back of my mind, the voice of reason was shouting at me to call a halt to this madness, but my body wasn't listening since it was responding to something else entirely. On a cognitive level I knew that if I didn't stop encouraging him, it was fairly obvious that he was going to take me right there on my front porch—and I didn't even know his last name! No doubt Stella could enlighten me if I were to ask her, but by then it would be too late. . . .
Not letting go of my lips, he delved beneath my shoulders and proceeded to drag me away from the steps and deeper into the shadow of the house which lay across the porch. I heard Zack's whine and the click of his toenails on the wooden floor as he moved away from us to take up sentry duty at the top of the stairs. He needn't have bothered, however, for there was no evidence of any other people nearby, and the only thing I could hear was the relentless pounding of the surf on the beach below us.
Slipping his hands beneath my shirt, my attention was recalled to what he was doing to me, and made me wish that I'd had on more in the way of clothing. A tank top and shorts and a pair of panties was all I was wearing—not even a bra or shoes! He pushed my shirt up to my neck before pausing to pull off his own, and eased himself down on me, burying his face between my breasts. I could feel the soft coolness of the ocean breeze on my bare skin contrasting sharply with the heated roughness of his face against my nipples, along with the teasing tickle of his hair as it flowed across my chest and arms as he moved over me.
Capturing a nipple between his lips, he sucked it gently, sliding his tongue across it, making me gasp with surprise. He was touching me in intimate places that hadn't been touched in quite some time and I couldn't understand why I was actually letting him do it. I'd barely met him—what made him think he could do this to me? Was it something Stella said? Was it the way I'd looked at him that afternoon? All I had to do was say no, but I couldn't get the word to even begin to form in my mind, let alone utter it. His kisses moved lower, down across my ribs, leaving a trail of moisture from his mouth, his hands pushing what was left of my clothing down over my hips, clearing a path for him.
I kept telling myself that I should protest, at least make some gesture to stop him, but the sensations he was evoking were overwhelming. I hadn't felt anything for so long, the sheer novelty of it made me want him to continue doing whatever he wanted. It didn't seem to matter what he did, for every touch was nearly orgasmic in intensity when compared to what I'd been able to feel lately. Either that, or he was simply very, very good. . . .
He teased me with his lips and tongue for what seemed like hours; tasting me, tempting me and making me crave his touch more and more with each passing moment. If he'd stopped then, I think I would have gone into complete withdrawal; he was that addictive. Then he began spiraling in toward the apex of my thighs, intensifying my anticipation to such a degree that when his tongue finally slid across my clitoris, my orgasm struck me with all the electrifying force of a lightning bolt.
Gasping for air, I reached out—needing to hold onto something—anything—but especially him. My hands found only empty air as he moved away from me. When I heard his belt buckle hit the porch and realized what he was doing, and I looked up to see the dark outline of him, silhouetted against the stars as he positioned himself over me.
“Let me in,” he whispered, and I could hear—even in a whisper—the deep, throaty quality that lust had added to his voice. Just the sound of it intensified my need for him; I couldn't have resisted him if my life depended on it. Opening myself to him, I felt his thick, hard heat melt into me, filling up the void that was clamoring for him. I heard a sharp hiss as he sucked a breath in between his teeth, which was followed a moment later by a deep, shuddering sigh as he began to move with nearly agonizing slowness at first, but gradually ramping up to a rhythm that deprived me of all rational thought. Daniel and I had made love a thousand times, but it had never been like this. . . .
Tom stroked the inside of me, reaching and stimulating places that I'll swear had never been touched before. I heard moans of sheer ecstasy and realized they were coming from my own throat. I couldn't remember ever having done that in the past, yet here I was, moaning like a porn star. . . .
“Squeeze me,” he whispered, leaning down to lick my earlobe.
What? Squeeze him? Where? I was so drunk with the intoxicating quality of him that I wasn't thinking clearly. Then it occurred to me that there was only one part of him that I was in any position to squeeze, and apparently I got it right because a soft, “Yes-s-s-s,” hissed through his teeth as he rocked harder against me.
Completely helpless against the onslaught of sensations that were bombarding me, I let go, surrendering my grip on everything but him. No lightning bolt this time, but a sudden burst of energy, like smoldering tinder which abruptly explodes into flame and continues to burn as long as there is fuel and oxygen enough to support it. The fire within me set off a chain reaction in him, culminating in a series of thrusts that would have put splinters in my back had the porch not been so smooth and weathered. Zack heard the deep-throated groan that went with the final thrust and scrambled to his feet, growling.
“It's okay, Zack!” I gasped. “Go back to sleep. It's okay!”
Zack settled back down as Tom sighed against my hair, muttering, “That was more than just okay, if you ask me. Damn!” He collapsed on me with another sigh and I felt a gush of fluid drain out from where we were joined together.
“That's not what I meant, and you know it, Mr. Patient Fellow!” I grumbled. “If that's what you call being patient, I'd sure as hell hate to see you in a hurry!”
Chuckling softly, he said, “Well, for someone who claimed she wasn't ready, you made a pretty good show of—”
“They didn't buy anything but candy!” Stella complained, popping her head back in the door, interrupting my thoughts. “How are you coming with that?”
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Oh, and some buns for Ana, which should satisfy everyone's craving. . .
Except mine, which is for, um, balls. . . . so, these two are for me. ;-)
Oh, and Sharon wanted me to post this video.
And, to celebrate Flag Day, this guy looks like he's hoisting a flag. . . sort of. Either that, or he's Robin Hood storming the castle without his tights!
Ya'll have a real nice Flag Day, now, ya hear?