Monday, December 3, 2012

In the Hot Box with Brock Logan

Hi All. I had the opportunity to interview one of my newest characters, Brockridge Logan, from Winter’s Thaw coming Dec. 7 from Evernight Publishing. He asked me to meet him at his place of employment, the U.S. Marshal office. I’m not a big fan of government building. I can’t bring my cell phone inside and these places are so poorly lit I’m literally blind for the first five minutes after I enter. The security guard got a little snippy with me, until I showed him my cane. 
Anyway I’m having a little trouble locating Deputy Logan at the moment. *peers around the large waiting area* An official seal is on the aged tiled floor and metal detectors cover the entrances. As I stand trying to collect my bearing and give my eyes time to adjust two men approach.
“W. Lynn Chantale?” One says. He stands in the only available light, so I can’t see his face.
“Uh, yeah.”
“You got identification.”
I reach in my pocket for my license and both move a hand to their hip. “Relax, you asked for ID and I’m trying to comply.” Once my identity has been verified yet again, the goon squad escorts me to a windowless room. Before I can blink they have me handcuffed to a chair.
“Really? I usually get names and dinner before the relationship goes to kink.” Great. Just great. This is what I get for creating big bad government characters. I lift my arm, setting the chains to rattling. “Seriously is this necessary?”
“They stay on until I determine if you’re a threat.”
Wait. I know that voice. The two men exit the room. The door snapping shut has a ring of finality to it. Clothing rustles and a man...well muscled man emerges from the shadows. I’m such a sucker for a man in a suit and his is tailored to accentuate all his assets.
“A threat. Pu-leeze,” I scoff. “Half the time I run into the walls in my own hallway. Who have I allegedly threatened, Brock?”
“Michaela Winters.”
I sit back in my chair, the cold metal resting against the back of my hand. “Is this because you were dangling over a balcony?”
He crosses his arms. I try not to sigh in appreciation when the fabric moves with him.
I arch a brow. “So you’re mad?”
“These are very serious allegations, W. Lynn.”
I shrug. “That’s fine, but the longer you keep me here, the longer you dangle over a balcony, or get shot at, or maybe never find Michaela.” I lean forward and look him in the eye. “Remember how long it took to get you two together the first time?”
He nods, a speculative gleam in his honey-brown eyes.
“I can delete that whole scene or better yet not write the ending at all.”
He grabs the chair across from me, flips it around and sits folding his arms on the metal back. “If that’s the case, then I’ll just keep you here, until you see things my way.” A long pregnant silence fills the room. 
Each tick of the clock on the wall is audible. Faint voices drift through the door as footsteps shuffle past. Sweat trickles between my shoulder blades. Did I mention it was hot in here too? I resist squirming in my chair beneath his scrutiny. I will not be bullied.
The chair squeaks as he stands. The metal legs scrape against the cement floor as he returns it to its correct position. “Perhaps some time alone will help sway you.” He crosses the room.
“Could I at least get a bottle of water while I wait?” I holler as he exits and the door closes. I glance at the shackles on my wrists. I really need to stop writing characters with handcuffs.

The holidays can be murder. Someone is out to kill Michaela Winters, but she has more important things to worry about, arguing with her husband and when to tell him he’s going to be a father come to mind.
Brockridge Logan realizes the mistake he’s made and he’s willing to make amends. His solution is to whisk her away to their cabin up north where he can seduce and keep her safe.
When an ice storm closes the roads and traps them in the middle of nowhere for the duration of the holidays. A marriage will be mended, but will it be too late with a killer on the loose.

“Are you sure we’re stuck here?” This was not the way she envisioned spending her two weeks away from court. Her last case had been grueling and she’d only won on a technicality, but knowing she had time to recharge before she went back to defending the sometimes guilty and unjustly accused innocent eased the sting of the almost loss. Having to spend the next several days with Brock Logan...well she’d rather be in contempt of court.
Warmth enveloped her back. She stiffened. When had he moved? The crisp scent of his soap and masculinity teased her senses. She bit her lip against the moan of pleasure. One of the things she always liked about him was he didn’t wear cologne just the natural musk God gifted him.
Now he’d trapped her between the heat of his hard body and a cold window, her scooped-neck tee insufficient barrier to both. She closed her eyes as he shifted and his arm circled her waist. Desire simmered in her veins and dampened her panties.
“You heard the officer. The roads are closed,” he murmured near her ear.
His breath tickled the delicate shell, sending shivers of want to her nipples. They puckered painfully beneath her shirt. She tried to move closer to the window, only he held her more firmly against his unyielding frame.
“That doesn’t mean you should invade my personal space.”
He chuckled. The low sound wrapped around her like warm fudge. She wanted nothing more than to hear him laugh in the confines of a bedroom while they were both naked and sweaty. She tamped down on the thought, but his solid physique at her back and the bulge wedged against her buttocks conjured all sorts of naughty images.
His lips feathered over the exposed skin just below her ear. Need ignited and blazed a fiery path from tit to clit. She locked her knees to keep the ache in check. As if sensing her state, he cupped her breast and his thumb circled the taut nipple through her shirt.
She couldn’t stop the moan of pleasure from easing between her lips.
“I plan on doing a lot of that while we’re here,’ he whispered.
With great effort, she wrenched from his arms and stared at his reflection in the glass. Was she so easy that a few caresses and some kisses could muddle her brain? This man ruined a case for the greater good, nearly destroyed her career, not to mention wedged a nice little chink in their relationship. Michaela couldn’t let her traitorous body dictate to her heart, no matter how wanton he made her feel.
She drifted her gaze over him. He was rugged, all sharp edges and rough planes. Sandpaper would only refine and hone his persona. He needed someone soft yet strong enough to withstand his arrogance. Why she ever thought she could maintain a relationship with the man and remain unscathed spoke more to her belief in love and romance rather than the logic of them as a couple. What a fool she was.
Still, the man was absolutely gorgeous. Average height, but she loved to run her fingers over his taut, chiseled muscles.  This time her pulse leapt in response. No use in thinking like that. There was no way she was going to let him get that close again, at least not for a long while. She scanned the room. Logs for the fire were piled next to the hearth, the kitchen was well stocked and when they arrived, Logan hadn’t brought anything into the cabin other than their bags. That meant...

And if you're still in the mood, join me on various hops this week and next. Join me here for a chance to win a giftbag of goodies.
Until next time, Indulge Your Inner Romantic.

No comments: