Mistletoe Mambo Release Day and Contest

It's Release Day and I'm giving away a candy arrangement, courtesy of my lovely sister.
Mistletoe Mambo has been released as a stand-alone short for a very reasonable price. 99 cents. I know you've got 99 cents. :-)

Blurb: Only one man dances to the music of Madeline’s heart.

She was aware of the crowd parting to accommodate their slow foxtrot, but she kept her focus on Max. Her knees wobbled so badly, if she ignored the intensity of his gaze she might stumble. He held her closer than necessary. Each glide of his hips brought his erection against her thigh. Surprised, she held her breath. Was it possible the attraction wasn’t one-sided, after all?  

As if sensing her thoughts, he winged a brow. When his hand drifted lower on her hip, her heart thudded harder. Maybe he was flirting with her and merely used their dance as an excuse to hold her. Or perhaps this was wishful thinking on her part. Dancing wasn’t unusual at the Christmas party, but somehow dancing with him, knowing how she felt made the experience more exhilarating. Each brush of his pelvis sent an answering tremor through her body. She wanted more than three or four minutes in his arms. For a brief second, she rested her head on his shoulder. He tapped her right arm and she rotated into a spin. She completed two turns before he clasped her hand and drew her against the heat of his body once again.

She became lost in the depths of his eyes, glimpsing a longing she never noticed before as they circled the dance floor. The strength of his arm clasped her waist. The sure grip of his hand tightened on hers and the smooth texture of his trousers met her skin when he dipped her over his leg. Every nerve ending crackled at the sensual slide of his hard, powerful thigh beneath her bare back. He pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat and she forgot to breathe.

He stood her upright and glided them around the well-worn linoleum. Amazement must have shown on her face because he smirked. She followed his lead, too unsettled to do anything else. Did his little kiss mean he was interested, or was that just part of the dance? One more twirl around the floor, and then his steps slowed. Swaying in time to the music, he held her in his arms.

All too soon the song ended and they were forced to bow when thunderous applause cascaded through the room. Madeline pressed her hands to her cheeks while she struggled to catch her breath. She cast a sidelong glance at Max, his hand resting in the small of her back.

“I love dancing with you,” he whispered, leading her to the edge of the dance floor. “The scent of your perfume, the slide of your skin against mine, and when I lift you in my arms all I can think about is the way you would taste.” He squeezed her bottom.

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   ************************************************CONTEST ALERT****************************************************

I'm giving away this. Leave a comment for your chance to win. I'll draw the winner on November 7
Until next time, Indulge Your Inner Romantic.

Christmas in July-The Santa Drag

The Santa Drag (tag line)

“Things aren't always what they seem, and this shopping mall Santa has a secret that only the love of her life can reveal.”

The Santa Drag

by Liv Rancourt

Then there was the year I played Santa. I’m an actress, remember, and since the economy was lousy, I was broke. I was between gigs, tired of pulling lattes and ready to audition for anything. The ad first appeared online in early September. For a couple weeks, I ignored it, sponging off my savings and looking for something more, well, gender-appropriate. Then I did the math and realized that I needed a paying gig or I’d be on the street by December. I called in a favor and borrowed a tricked out Santa costume…..

…. On a particularly busy Saturday, I was tired and thinking more about a double shot of espresso than I was about the pile of kids who wanted to sit in my lap. The weak winter sun was making its circle over the atrium where the Christmas tree was set up and my roommate Shauna was buzzing by every so often to giggle at me from the sidelines. Shauna had gone through college with me and now she taught English to high school students. It gave her the best dinner time stories of any of my friends. Teenagers will say anything. She was trying to get all of her Christmas shopping done in one day, which was a good trick for someone with as many fertile brothers and sisters as she had.

“Come sit up on Santa’s lap,” Maya said, interrupting my brief mental vacation. We were in the Christmas Village, which was a collection of six pseudo-Tyrolean houses done at one- quarter scale, surrounding an oversized golden throne, with phony snow covering the mall’s tile floor and even phonier presents scattered around the throne. 

“No,” said a little girl with a stubborn crease between her brows. She was dressed in Seattle’s version of Christmas formal, a stiff red cotton velvet dress, likely made from organic fabric dyed with beets and rose hips. On her feet were two-toned leather MaryJanes that probably cost sixty-five dollars. At least the green corkscrew ribbons tied around her blond pigtails looked like they belonged on a child. I made myself as approachable as possible, getting down to her level and producing a big smile. 

“Come on, Thula,” her mother said, tapping one French manicured nail on her cell phone. “Go sit up there with Santa so we can take your picture.”  She sounded as if this was just one more thing to knock off the list.

“It’s okay, sweetie.” Maya put on her encouraging smile.  Maya was a tiny thing, barely bigger than most of the kids we saw, with long dark hair, a tiny gold hoop pierced through one nostril and bugged-out eyes that looked like they’d been molded out of chocolate. She was as non-threatening as an adult could possibly be. The kid stared at her and bit down on her bottom lip. At least she wasn’t crying. Yet.

I sat back down on my fancy Christmas throne and held out a hand. Sometimes less is more when you’re dealing with preschoolers. “You want to come tell Santa what to bring you for Christmas?” I asked, keeping my voice pitched down somewhere under my sternum. It helped that I had one of those raspy lady voices that earned me a permanent spot in the tenor section whenever I sang in choir. 

“No.”

This went on for several minutes. The kid went from biting her bottom lip to letting it pooch out and tremble. Never a good sign. Finally, after a ton of coaxing, she was more-or-less close to me, squatted down on the other side of one of the big pretend presents that ringed my throne. That was good enough for her mom, and Maya snapped a picture. 

When she was done, the little girl glared at me from behind the big glossy red ribbon that topped the present. “Bring me a baby brother,” she bellowed and took off running out of the Christmas village. 

Mom gave me a meaner glare than the kid had. Hey, she shouldn’t have been mad at me. I hadn’t made any promises. The kid ran full tilt through the crowds of shoppers, then stopped in the middle of an open space and started to cry. Her sobs echoed around the smoky glass dome that covered us and we could hear her carrying on until she and her mom got swallowed up by the Ross store at the end of the north hallway. The whole place fell into a bit of a hush when she was gone, as if we were all exhaling in relief. This close to Christmas, none of us needed a crying child to ratchet up the stress level. 

A young mother was next in line. She came into the Christmas Village and positioned a slightly damp baby on my lap, moving as if something hurt. The baby was so young that Mom still looked a little pregnant under her loose denim-blue shirt. Or maybe she was already pregnant with number two. I’m not so good with the principles of baby production. Well, I understand the basic concepts, but haven’t had that many opportunities to put them into practice. 

The brief quiet was interrupted by a yodeling squeal that I recognized. I stared into the crowd until I caught Maya looking at me funny. I stuck a smile on that was as close to my normal jolly-Santa shtick as I could get, and she settled back down behind her camera. The reason for my roommate Shauna’s squeal had me completely rattled. In the two or three beats I’d looked out from behind my wire-rimmed glasses as Mack-the-girl, I’d seen Shauna giving someone a big hug. A really handsome someone. Joe McBride. Joseph Timothy McBride. The actor. The real-life, got a soap opera gig and several commercials and you saw him in Scream 2 actor. The only guy I ever really loved.

Find Liv Rancourt here

Christmas in July-Christmas Spirit

Still trying to beat the heat? It's Christmas in July here at Decadent Decisions. Chef has a Buche de Noel on the buffet table and he tried to make a fruitcake, but we had words over that. *indistinct mumbling from kitchen, stalks to door* I don't care if it is soaked in Tyrell's super secret aged rum. Nobody wants that gawdawful mess of dried fruit!
*pats stray hair into place*
Sorry about that, Chef is still a little…*squints at a tray containing slices of fruit dotted cake* Excuse me a moment. *grabs tray from server* I need to handle something in the kitchen real quick. In the meantime enjoy an excerpt from Christmas Spirit by Liberty Blake.

Tagline:

Cross a Christmas phobic male with a caterer with Christmas bells on...can she ignite the Christmas spirit in him?
Excerpt:

What the hell had just happened? One minute he was in heaven tasting the sweet nectar of the gods. The next the little vixen was running down the subway stairs. Harry pulled his wits together and gave chase. The turnstile wouldn’t budge. He was about to jump it when a voice said, “I wouldn’t if I was you. It’s a serious crime to steal from the Commonwealth. Buy a pass if you want to ride the train.”

Harry turned to find a T officer standing directly behind him. The man pointed a nightstick toward a row of machines. “You can get one over there in the Charlie machines.”

Card in hand, he was back at the turnstile in time to see the train Elle had jumped on pulling away from the station.

Damn. He didn’t know her last name.
Liberty Blake's Whereabouts!
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Mother's Day Man Candy and a New Release

First I want to give a big shout out and HUGE thanks to Marissa over at Sizzling PR for doing my banner. I absolutely love it. And the pink rose petals in the background. Perfect! Did I mention they're pink. :-)

Chef and Tyrell are spending the day with their moms, Sorry ladies, I know how much you enjoy having the men pat homage to you, but they're worked hard and well it's Mother's Day. No worries the guys made sure I'd be taken care of in the absence. Oh look, he's even wrapped in a pretty red bow.

There's more…What kinda tattoo is that.

And they even gave me flowers.

Mother's Day Man Candy, my gift to you.

I've done a couple of posts this month on Moms. They are such wonderful, interesting creatures. Love them of hate them, we wouldn't be here without them. :-) So just in time for Mother's Day, I'm celebrating the release of The Pick-Up Wife, my newest short story from Whispers Publishing. This story will also appear in the print anthology, Restored, a little later this year. How cool is that?

Blurb:

Leo Shepard has few regrets, but leaving his wife Symmone to pursue his career was a catastrophic mistake. Now that he’s achieved his every dream and is about to make partner at Greene and Banks Architects, he lacks one thing, a wife. But Leo doesn’t want just any wife, he wants the woman he left behind.

From the moment she laid eyes on Leo, Symmone knew she would have her happily ever after. The last thing she expected was a divorce and a broken heart. Devastated by the end of her marriage, she has no choice but to quit school and pick up the pieces of her life. 

Working two jobs to support herself and her children, Symmone has little room in her life for romance and even less for her pulsating attraction to her ex-husband. When Leo strolls into the cafe where she works, bent on reconciliation, the chemistry between them is more powerful than ever. Yet she won't give in to his soft words and expensive gifts. More than just her heart is at stake, her children are, as well.

Excerpt:

Her footsteps slowed as she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the windowpane. She paused long enough to straighten her dark ponytail. With a huff of disgust she dropped her hand from her ebony tresses and shook her head. She couldn’t believe she was primping for her ex. Primping!

She set the glass on the table with a thump. He looked up with a tentative smile, and she was lost. She opened her mouth to speak and not a single word came out. God, he was even more handsome than the last time she’d seen him. Gone was the youthful softness of his face. Now he had a man’s face, a jaw that spoke of strength and maturity. His brown eyes, while bright and intelligent, seemed to hold a tinge of sadness, but what drew her attention most was his mouth. How many hours had she fantasized about the taste and shape of his mouth, about the firm press of his lips against hers or the butterfly kisses he used to flutter over her skin.

His smile widened. “You’re speechless.”

The warm rasp of his rich baritone danced over her, opening wounds she thought long since healed and igniting a desire she’d hoped long dead. He couldn’t come in here, to her place of employment, and upset everything she’d ever worked for with just two words.

Everything came back in an aching, throbbing fireball, and she clenched her hands at her sides.

“What do you want?” She didn’t bother to hide the annoyance or anger in her voice.

He blinked, and his smile drooped a bit, but he managed to maintain it. “I came to see you.”

“You haven’t given a damn about me in ten years. What’s so special about now? Are you dying? Or have you come to assuage some misplaced sense of guilt? Either way, the café has very good takeout I believe you would enjoy.”

He chuckled, and it produced an ache in areas she didn’t want to acknowledge. “I suppose I deserve that, but you’re wrong, Symmone. I’ve never stopped thinking about you.” His quiet admission stayed her irritation. “And I was wrong to do what I did.”

Find The Pick-Up Wife at your favorite eretailer.

Whispers

ARe

Until next time Indulge Your Inner Romantic