Friday, December 23, 2016

New Holiday Release! (#RussianBlue #99cents #SeniorSex)

Gray Christmas cover

Just in time for Christmas—just barely in time!—I’ve got a brand new holiday erotic romance for you.

Gray Christmas doesn’t feature your typical gorgeous young heroine and handsome, muscular hero. The protagonists of this tale are both over sixty. But that doesn’t stop them from getting up to some serious holiday mischief.

Here’s the blurb:

Widowed author Emma Granger has reconciled herself to spending Christmas Eve in snowy Boston, with a nice bottle of Pinot Grigio and her cat Vronsky. Her daughters have their own lives on the West Coast. Emma knows she can’t expect them to visit every holiday.

A loud crash from the apartment above her overturns her plans for a quiet evening at home. When she investigates, she meets Nick North, an energetic iconoclast with a gray ponytail, a silver earring and bright blue eyes that kindle feelings she’d thought were gone forever. Nick is her own age, maybe older, but his lean body and impish grin affect her as if she were a horny teenager.

Although Emma makes her living writing spicy romance, sex with a stranger seems ludicrous when you’re an arthritic grandmother in your sixties. Still, the attraction she feels for her charismatic upstairs neighbor appears to be reciprocated. A Christmas fling might be just what Emma needs to brighten her holiday.

And of course, I’ve got an excerpt:

With as much speed as I could manage, I negotiated the winding staircase and knocked on the red-painted door.

Hello? Is everything okay?”

Humph—um—yeah.” A man’s voice, muffled, possibly in pain. “Yeah, I think so. Come on in. It’s open.”

The brass knob turned easily. I opened the door to a scene of chaos.

The living room had the same layout as my own, and like mine, was lined with bookshelves. Where I had my worn but treasured Persian carpets, the wooden floor here was bare. Across the planks, its base near the front window and its top-most needles almost brushing my sneakers, stretched a fir tree so tall and bushy I couldn’t imagine how it had gotten there.

A tinsel garland looped around the top, then trailed off over the furniture. A few ornaments still clung to the branches, but most had been scattered to the far corners of the room. Fortunately they appeared to be wood or clay rather than the fragile glass confections I recalled from my childhood.

The scent of balsam hung in the air. Evergreen needles littered the floor. A coffee cup, apparently knocked off a table by the falling tree, lay in a brown puddle near the fireplace.

Made quite a mess, haven’t I?” A chuckle came from the far side of the room, an area hidden by the massive tree. “I should know better, at my age.” A male figure rose from behind the curtain of green, shaking his head and rubbing his elbow. “Banged myself up a bit, too. I always tend overdo things.” He flashed me an apologetic smile. “Sorry to disturb you with all the noise.”

That’s okay,” I replied automatically. “I wasn’t disturbed.” But I was disturbed, profoundly so, as I surveyed my upstairs neighbor. He had to be at least my age, but he exuded a kind of vitality rare even in men decades younger. His lean, wiry body seemed ready to leap into action. He’d pulled his gray-streaked hair into a low ponytail. The style gave him the look of an artist or maybe a revolutionary. His silver earring, Che Guevara tee shirt and faded jeans heightened that impression.

Webs of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and his mouth suggested he smiled often. Certainly he was smiling now, as he righted the metal step-ladder he’d been using to decorate the tree and used that to maneuver his way over the wall of bristling green that separated us.

I’m Nick.” He offered his hand. I just stood there, speechless—me, the wordsmith who always had something to say—transfixed by the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. Sensations I’d almost forgotten flooded my body. My cheeks burned. My nipples knotted under my sweater. A sweet pressure throbbed in my pelvis. My sensible cotton panties might even be damp, inside my sweat pants.

* * * *

Get your copy of this sweet and sexy Christmas romance, before Santa figures out that you’re being naughty!

Buy Links

8000 words, 25 pages, 99 cents

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