Sunday, December 2, 2018

Sizzling Sunday: Gray Christmas - #holidayromance #giveaway #SizzlingSunday

Gray Christmas banner

Happy Sunday! Now that we’re officially in December, it’s time for some holiday fun.

Today I have a sizzling bit from my holiday erotic romance Gray Christmas. Just leave me a comment, and you could win a copy!

And a call out to Mary Smith! You won my giveaway last week, but I don’t have your email address. Please get in touch, or leave a comment here.


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.


I see we share the same tastes in reading.”

The sudden shift in topic startled me enough that I looked up. “What?”

He’d extracted a paperback from the shelf just behind him. He held it up for me to see. Of course I recognized the cover, a tastefully shadowed nude in a blindfold. “One of my favorite authors.”

You like erotic romance?”

In general, no. But I think I’ve read everything Emmanuelle de la Grange has written.”

I returned my wine glass the tray and stared at my guest. Who was this guy and why was he torturing me? “You’re joking, right?”

Not at all. I really love her style, not to mention her filthy imagination. She’s simultaneously arousing and literate. Not many authors can manage that.”

He set the book down on the table beside him. I picked it up and flipped through it. The Passion of Priscilla. One of my earlier works, but still one of my best sellers.

Okay, so what’s your favorite de la Grange title, then?” Mentally I reviewed the rather short list of my acquaintances who knew how I supported myself. Could one of them have put my upstairs neighbor up to this? Or even planted him in the apartment above, as a Christmas jest?

Nick stretched out his legs and sat back in his chair, his arms crossed behind his head. Vronsky hopped off, arched his back, then curled up on the window seat.

It’s really difficult to say. Maybe Satin Submission? Or Doing It the Hard Way?” He leaned toward me, resting his hands on his thighs. His weathered face was earnest and open. “Which one do you like best?”

A storm of emotion raged inside me—pride, anger, curiosity, and of course desire, so familiar and so rare. Rising from my seat, I walked to the window, where I stood for what seemed like a long time, petting Vronsky and watching the snow swirl in the street lights.

I can’t choose,” I said finally. “Any more than I’d choose one of my children over the other. Since I am Emanuelle de la Grange.”

Utter silence greeted my announcement. Even the cat stopped purring. I swear I could hear the hiss of the snow hurtling toward the pavement outside.

Then there was the rustle of fabric, the creak of leather upholstery, muffled footsteps as he crossed the carpet. Torn between throwing myself at him and running away, I remained frozen there, my back turned, my heart like a drum in my ears.

Powerful fingers grasped my shoulders from behind. Warm breath teased my ear lobe. “No wonder,” Nick murmured, his voice a caress as much as his touch. “No wonder you seem so familiar.” He smoothed his hands down my arms, then circled my waist, pulling me backward against his body. “No wonder I want you so much.” The solid bulk of his erection pressed against my spine made it clear he wasn’t lying. “I’ve so spent many nights with you, Emmanuelle. I know your secret dreams.”

Nick—no, please… oh!” An involuntary gasp interrupted my objections as he slid his hands up under my loose top to cup my breasts. His palms were soft but his fingertips were calloused, deliciously rough against my nipples. “You—we’re strangers—we can’t just…”

His symmetrical pinch sent lightning racing through me. “Why can’t we? We’re certainly old enough!” He released my breasts long enough to turn me around, so that I faced him. A half-smile played on his lips, while his incredible eyes shone like stars. “You’re as aroused as I am. Why should we refuse this gift?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to say. In any case, he removed the possibility by fastening his mouth to mine, sweeping me into a deep, wet kiss.

He kissed with the same vibrant energy that animated everything he did. His tongue was demanding and playful by turns. As he teased my lips open, I tasted the fruity wine we’d imbibed, edged with hint of peppermint that must have been toothpaste. The sharp, wild scent of evergreen clung to his skin. His strong arms drew me closer, until my swollen nipples rubbed against his chest. I went weak with the sensations, melting in the heat of his desire, and my own.

Amazed at my own audacity, I returned the kiss, letting my own tongue wander and explore. My entire body tingled. I felt tipsy, an almost forgotten joy bubbling up inside me. His need beat against me like a tropical sun, relentless and inescapable. I had no choice but to surrender to that awesome power.

He broke our mouth-to-mouth connection just long enough to tug my sweater over my head and toss it into a corner. A tiny voice protested against the exposure, out in the open where anyone could see through the second floor window. I ignored the voice, drowning my reservations in the flood of pleasure rippling through me.

His hands roamed over my flesh, stroking my back, squeezing my butt, feathering the tips of his fingers along the sensitive sides of my breasts. Still kissing me, he eased me to the floor. The plush rug was soft beneath my back. Nick straddled me, a huge grin on his amiable face. The sweet pressure of his ass rested on my pubis, amplifying my need. He captured my breasts again, massaging them with deft fingers while deliberately avoiding my throbbing nipples. I wanted to scream, to beg for his touch, there, and between my legs, too.

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Don't forget to leave a comment. Please include your email so I can find you if you win!


Debby said...

Sounds like a great story, perfect for a cold winter night.
debby236 at gmail dot com

Sherry said...

I really like the cover and think this sounds like a very good read.
sstrode at scrtc dot com

Anonymous said...

As a *mature* reader, I enjoy reading older couples. Especially those that acknowledge that we aren't all dried up after 60!

paganlady0505 at gmail dot com

JeanMP said...

Sounds like a really good story. Nice change to read about older characters in a book.
skpetal at hotmail dot com

orelukjp0 said...

Grey Christmas sounds like a real good story. I love when authors write about an author. Thank you for sharing the great blurb.

orelukjp0 at gmail dot com

bn100 said...

cute cover
bn100candg at hotmail dot com

Angela Saver said...

Sounds like a great Christmas read!

Lisabet Sarai said...

Thanks to everyone who commented.

Congratulations to Angela, who is my winner.

If you didn't win, don't worry. I have another giveaway set to go for this Sunday...

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