My guest today is the wonderful Jennifer LaRose. Isn't this book cover featuring Jimmy Thomas amazing? This entire book is something special. Here's a little taste.
Riding the Waves by Jennifer LaRose
Annalee Parschen is devastated when she discovers her soon-to-be ex-fiancé has been having a secret BDSM tryst with her best friend. Crushed, she wonders how anyone could find a sexual thrill in punishment or submission. Then she’s reunited with Brent Delaney, a former coworker who still ignites her flame. Though they’ve never had sex, she’s taken him home in her fantasies countless times. Turns out he’s been wanting to take her home, too. And he has a thing or two to teach her about finding pleasure in submission.
Brent is now a private sea fighter who guards his employer’s ships from piracy in the China Sea. He returns to the States after a daring ocean rescue. He’s thrilled to be reunited with Annalee, even more so when he gets to introduce her to his dominant side. Unfortunately the murderous pirate he put behind bars has escaped, and he’s seeking revenge—against Brent, and anyone he loves.
All brawn with brains. Jesus, who could ask for more? Had he married Marie, or Marci, or Mary, or whatever her name was?
“Reality to Annalee.” Wow, thoughts of him still had the capability of pulling her in far and fast. She took a deep breath, grabbed the shopping bag, climbed out of the SUV and entered the house, fanning her face. Damn, her heart pounded.
And so did her pussy. Tiny, thumping sensations pulsated against her panties as if her clit had a miniature heartbeat of its own.
What on earth was wrong with her? Was she so sexually deprived something as simple as a voice turned her on? Geez, she needed to stop thinking about Brent and focus on the man she planned to marry. The man she had every intention of seducing the minute he walked through the door. Jared had better get home on time.
Warm air, fragrant with the scent of watermelon, embraced her when she stepped into the kitchen. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply.
Morton, her eight-year-old Persian cat rubbed his furry body against her ankles, startling her. But she welcomed the distraction. It put her thoughts into perspective. She opened her eyes and bent down to pet him between the ears. “Hi. How’s my little guy? Did you miss Mommy?”
He meowed, made a complete circle around her leg before sticking his pink nose in the air, snubbing her. “You little fart.” She laughed as he sauntered toward the family room. Stuck-up Morton liked attention on his terms only. A quick hello usually kept him content for the remainder of the evening.
After kicking off her shoes, she laid the shopping bag on the counter beside a decorative bowl of artificial vegetables, removed two baked potatoes wrapped in foil from the refrigerator and placed them in the oven. Brent Delaney? Unbelievable.
Yes, it was unbelievable how she reacted to him after all these years—like a sex-starved hussy. If she didn’t rid him from her thoughts, she’d be marching down the hallway for a tumble with her vibrator and there wouldn’t be any dinner tonight. She’d worked hard this morning prepping the meal and baking a cake, too. She wanted everything perfect. Hopefully she wouldn’t over-broil the steaks. They’d been marinating in a garlic herb sauce all day, but she was infamous for ruining a good cut of meat.
While the potatoes baked, she filled the bathtub with hot water and strawberry bubble bath. Anything fruity sat high on Jared’s list of preferences. Tonight she’d bring out the ammo. If Plan A, the costume, failed, she’d resort to Plan B. Wow, she had no Plan B. She’d conjure up something quick if the need arose.
She stripped off her clothes and inched into the steamy, hot tub. Heavens, it felt good. The bubbles disintegrated with a soft fizzing sound. She lay back with a long, content sigh, enjoying the therapeutic heat, but her gaze kept roaming to the shower head. The urge to detach it from the hook grew heavy. If she yanked it down now and used it, she’d likely be so relaxed she’d fall asleep before Jared arrived. Well, maybe one little spray to bring her to the verge of orgasm wouldn’t hurt. It would enhance her mood, and she’d crawl all over him until he couldn’t say no. It’s not like she wanted to change the sprinkle adjustment to pulse or anything. Just one measly shot of the water and she’d be good to go.
Oh God. Before jumping up and yanking the damn thing down, she bathed quickly and climbed out of the tub. After grabbing a stiff towel from the cabinet, she patted her lower half dry, being careful not to touch her overly sensitive crotch. Any contact to that area right now would send her flying back into the shower, and no doubt she’d change it to the pulse setting and hit the faucets full blast.
After patting the water off her arms, she doused herself with a strawberry-scented body spray. The vapors caused her to sneeze not once, but three times consecutively. When it completely evaporated on her skin and faded to a soft, sweet scent, she dressed in the harem costume and pulled on a long, furry robe to stay warm.
Because Jared was a prompt, never-a-minute-late man, she removed the robe at exactly 7:25, dimmed the lights and sat down at the table, crossing her legs. The flames from three tapered candles danced enticingly, and she’d topped off the décor with two glasses of white wine.
Those candles…long and lean and durable and bendable when warm…she’d completely lost her frigging mind.
The kitchen glowed with romance and passion. She loved her home. The black and multiple shades of orange she chose for the walls and floor gave it a warm, cozy feeling. It wasn’t too big or too tiny of a house, but was perfect for a small family.
Tonight, they would put an end to the boring, almost nonexistent lovemaking routine they’d fallen into. She’d dance the tango naked if she had to, or pole dance with the family room floor lamp. Aha, Plan B.
Seven forty-five slipped by, and then eight o’clock without any trace of Jared. Had the weather delayed him too?
Why hadn’t he called?
She stood abruptly, pulling on the robe, then dug the cell phone out of her purse and punched in his number. After three rings, her call transferred to voicemail. “Where are you, Jared? Call me.”
Now she worried. She began pacing the family room, stopping to glance outside through the picture window. The wind wasn’t blowing nearly as badly, but a heavy wall of snow continued to fall.
Rather than trudge back and forth in a never-ending path, she turned on the television, sat down on the couch, picked up her cell phone and called him again, only to encounter the same recording.
Where the hell could he be?
Time ticked by in long, agonizing, nail-biting minutes.
The thought of calling the highway patrol and local hospitals crossed her mind, but if something happened, someone surely would’ve contacted her by now.
She picked up her cell and called him once more. It didn’t ring and connected directly to voicemail. Apparently he’d shut off his phone. Why would he do that? To avoid talking to her?
What the hell?
From the moment she’d owned a cell phone, her dad impressed upon her to never turn it off, and to make sure she carried it wherever she went. That way she could be tracked if she’d gotten lost. Ever since, if not in her purse, she had it in a pocket or stuffed in a sock.
Too bad he hadn’t preached that theory to Jared. Were her attempts to fix their relationship like applying a Band-Aid to a gaping wound?
Riding The Waves is available today from Ellora's Cave!