Thursday, September 19, 2013

Heather Rainier





I live in South Central Texas, writing the type of novel I love to read: more erotic and edgy than the mainstream, with plenty of sweet romance mixed in. I write erotic romances exclusively for Siren Publishing, under their Everlasting imprint. My love of romantic fiction began as a teenager when my mom gave me copies of Kathleen Woodiwiss's "The Flame and the Flower" and Bertrice Small's "Skye O'Malley." To this day I'm pretty sure that was her idea of the "birds and the bees" talk.
My husband and I met in a scenario very much like the ones I've written about. He was the alpha hero who stepped in when this "damsel in distress" needed rescuing from a nefarious pervert. It's no wonder I went on to write erotic romance when I had him to inspire me. My favorite type of hero is the gentle, lovable giant but readers will discover a variety of heroes and alphas in my novels, from nearly perfect to very flawed. I hope readers relate to my heroines, and the challenges and dilemmas they face head-on.

LUCY’S REVENGE
DIVINE CREEK RANCH COLLECTION, BOOK 15

Lucy Carter is striving to succeed as a self-employed licensed massage therapist and to bolster her flagging self-confidence. The ménage of her fantasies, featuring her best friends, seems to be on the back burner.
Single dad Patrick Owen has been refined in the fires of betrayal. Now he knows exactly what he wants—Lucy Carter—and he’s ready to claim her along his best friend.
Beekeeper Beck O’Malley’s heart has been shattered, and he withdraws from the world until Lucy heals his heart. He’s held the spirited woman at arm's length, until he can no longer fight his attraction to her. Unfortunately, Beck and Lucy clash nearly as often as they kiss, and his possessiveness sets her on edge even as she falls deeper in love with him.
When Lucy is drawn into a life-threatening crisis, all of their differences and struggles are brought into perspective. But by then will it be too late?


Tucked into the western edge of the rugged Texas Hill Country, Divine is located at the junction of Heather Rainier's romantic imagination and her wildest fantasies. Like many small towns, the citizens of Divine look after each other, gossip about the rule-breakers, and are in each other's business.
Divine has been developing an inner circle of characters involved in polyamorous love relationships,whose main goal is to stay out of the limelight, while staying true to each other and themselves. Judgment and moral outcry make this hard at times, but the lovers do their best to make it worth the effort.
How does a woman inspire two or more men to love her so much that they are willing to share her? Come to Divine, Texas and explore with Heather Rainier why it's possible for one woman to have a heart big enough to love more than one man…

Meet the Cast!



Name: Lucy Carter
DOB: 1981
Height: 5’10”
Eye Color: Blue
Occupation: Licensed Massage Therapist

Bio: I’m originally from Temple, Texas. I moved to Divine just last year after visiting my brother, Seth, who also lives here with his wife, Jayne and son, Toby. I work at Madeleine’s Day Spa but I have dreams of having my own massage therapy business and being my own boss. I spend my free time with Patrick Owen and his best friend, Beck O’Malley. Patrick has a very active four year old son whom I adore. It’s kind of a complicated relationship. If I could fulfill one fantasy, it would be to have a committed ménage relationship with Patrick and Beck. Patrick is my rock. It feels good to be understood by him. Beck…well, let’s just say Beck knows how to push my buttons, but there’s just something about him that keeps pulling at me. Most of the time he’s setting me off, when he’s not making me fantasize about kissing him…or doing other naughty things to him.

Favorites
Food:  Mexican food
Color: Red!
Movie: Blazing Saddles
Band: Nickelback and I also love Shinedown
Song: “Figured You Out” I love anything that has a strong, grinding beat.
Quote: “It’s Better to be Pissed Off than Pissed On”
TV Show: Duck dynasty, especially when Beck watches with me. He gives good foot rubs while we sit on the couch together.
Holiday: Valentine’s Day and Christmas. I love getting presents!
Sport: PBR! Bull riders. ‘Nuff said?

Lightning Round
Pepsi or Coke: Coffee or Iced Coffee
Boxers or Briefs: On guys, those sexy snug knit boxers. On me, G-strings
Angelina Jolie or Jennifer Aniston: How did Patrick and Beck answer this question? Huh? Time for a switch-up. Chris Hemsworth or Brad Pitt? Both, baby, because this is Divine. *wink*
Die Hard or Terminator: Die Hard! And my favorite movie quote: “Yippee-Ki-Yay, motherfucker!”
Ford or Chevy: Ford
Steak or Chicken: Tenderloin Steak. Really rare.
Star Wars or Star Trek: Star Trek: Next Generation
Beer or Wine: wine…sangria

In Depth
What is your most cherished possession?
It’s not a possession, but I’d have to say my relationship with Patrick and Beck, however you want to define it. It’s not perfect but it’s precious to me.

How do you feel about being the center of attention?
Being the center of attention makes me feel awkward and clumsy, unless I am dancing. If I’m dancing, watch out.

What makes you blush?
Two things: Compliments, and thinking about what I want to do to Patrick and Beck if I ever get them nekkid.

How do you feel, generally, about the opposite sex?
Dumbfounded at times.

What is your worst habit?
Turtle Cheesecake!

Do you have any irrational fears or phobias?
Fire

How do you think your exes would describe you?
Inadequate. He was fucking wrong, too.

How deeply does your job / social role define you as a person?
I’m in a caregiving profession, so I would say that what I do defines me to my core. I can’t stand to see people not feeling good.

What would you never do, no matter the price?
Marry for money.


STORY EXCERPT

“What do I owe you for the massage?”
Lucy smiled up at him and gently rubbed his shoulder. The muscles felt loose and warm under her touch, and the pain and tenderness were all but gone. “Nothing, Beck. It was my gift to you.”
“That was over an hour of your time, Lucy. I owe you for that.”
“Okay. You owe me a date, and this,” she murmured as she hypnotized him with her wolf-blue eyes, tilted her chin up, and pressed her lips to his. He was surprised for a millisecond but then desire burst to life inside him as she slid her palms up his biceps and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her breasts were plush, pressed against his chest, and he groaned when she leaned her voluptuous body against his from knees to nose and moaned softly.
He slid his hands from her waist up her back and tangled them in her long black hair. Her lips were even softer than he’d imagined as she tilted her head and allowed him to deepen the kiss, stroking his tongue with hers as she opened for him. His cock, which had finally given him a respite was back to its previously erect state and she very subtly rubbed her pelvis against his, letting him know she was aware of it.
Usually pretty circumspect with the outward emotions, Beck was struck by how much he wanted to beat his chest and throw her over his shoulder. She unleashed something in him and instead of it being disturbing, it felt freeing. He wanted to crush her to him as the wave of emotional tension shimmered and then burst inside him and he was hard pressed to restrain himself from laying another passionate kiss on her.
“Wow.” Motion caught his attention through the glass-fronted entrance. “Uh-oh.”
“What?” she murmured as she rested her forehead against his chest and sounded like she was composing herself or catching her breath.
“We had an audience.”
Her head popped up and she turned to check the back of the shop then looked out the door. “Oh, crap. Of all the people.”
The dark-haired woman stood on the sidewalk, hands on hips, gawking in at them. She pursed her lips into a haughty twist and shook an accusing finger at them. He couldn’t hear her muffled words through the glass but could make out what she was saying. “Shame on you!” She turned up her nose and continued on her way.
Lucy growled. “If it wasn’t for the fact that I’m a newly self-employed and have several of her friends as customers, I’d flip her the bird and see if she can read my lips when I tell her to fuck off.”
“She looks vaguely familiar. Who is she?”
“Tabitha Lester.”
“That name sounds familiar.”
“She worked for Clay Cook and nearly got Lily killed a couple of years ago. She led Lily’s ex right to her. Psychotic bastard. I wasn’t here when that happened but I heard all about it from the girls. What’s crazy is that some people paint Tabitha as some kind of paragon of virtue, when the truth is she’s a hateful, bitter woman. Jealous of anyone who finds happiness, especially if it doesn’t line up with her rigid set of beliefs. She got a job as the secretary at one of the churches in Divine after Clay fired her for her part in endangering Lily.”
“I remember her now. She was working there when I came in to see Clay one day. Sort of snooty. Well that’s good she no longer works at Clay’s, I guess.”
“Yeah, except that now she kind of runs the local gossip mill through her other job. She’s in lots of people’s business. I guess that’s what you do when you have no life, but I can’t afford to piss her or her friends off.”
“Well, we just won’t give her further reason to gossip,” Beck murmured as he brushed his lips against her forehead and she giggled and shuddered as his beard tickled her nose. “Sorry. I need to shave this mess off.”
“It’s okay,” Lucy whispered. “I’ve wanted that kiss for a long time, Beck O’Malley.”

ADULT EXCERPT

“I’ve wanted to do this so much, Luce. I’ve needed you.”
She raked her fingernails through his hair, gently scraping his scalp until shivers raced up and down his back and then she palmed the sides of his head and looked at him. She was tall for a woman, so in that position straddling his lap, she was actually looking down at him. Her beautiful face was framed by thick waves of long hair the color of midnight.
The heat glowing in her eyes gave her a powerful, almost regal air, and she smiled at him and rubbed her thumb across his lower lip as she spoke. “I want you. I want it all. I’ll never settle for less ever again. The way you look at me makes me feel beautiful. Desirable.” Something else flickered in her gaze and then was gone as her tone softened. “I’ve needed that.”
The thought flitted through Patrick’s mind that Lucy probably had demons of her own. Sharing his story had been cathartic and he planned to extend the same courtesy to her. For now, he’d settle for showing her how much he desired her.
He loved seeing the fire in her eyes because he knew self-confidence didn’t come easy for her. He didn’t know why, because she was one of the sexiest women he’d ever met. The memory of the hurt in her eyes the night he’d met her, when Beck had turned down her offer of a dance still stuck with him, and so did the guilt for not grabbing her himself. But he could make up for his inaction now.
He laid her down on the couch and settled his hips between hers, groaning as she rubbed her slippery pussy against his cock, and drawing a moan from her. His need to be inside her was fierce.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and cradled him against her as he tormented one of her nipples before switching to the other. The hardened points turned darker as he sucked at them. He lost track of time as she trembled beneath him, stroking the back of his head and his shoulders.
It made him feel powerful to evoke such a response in this woman who so often went out of her way to please others and make them feel good. She deserved all of his attention.
A shudder rushed through him as she slid her hand down his rib cage to between his legs and stroked and squeezed his balls until his eyes nearly crossed. He gritted his teeth and flickers of impending orgasm raced through him as her fingers traced through the crisp hairs surrounding his cock. How long had it been since he’d been tempted and teased like this?
Never.
“Woman, I’m not letting you go, regardless of what else happens. You’re mine.”
“Think so, huh?” she whispered in a voice laced with humor and then purred as she grasped his hardened dick. “You’re so hot and big. Is this for me?”
He flexed in her hand. “All yours, Luce.”
The need to be inside her was strong and he pulled back, unwilling to rush when he wanted to feast on her first. He stayed there for a moment just taking her in. Her pale flesh was luminescent against the burgundy upholstery of her couch in the dimly lit living room. Her hair was spread all around her and flowing over the edge of the couch in black waves that glimmered in the lamplight. He groaned at the sight of her completely bare pussy.
She gave him a playful grin and bit her lip, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. “You like?” Her blush told him this must be a new development and despite her smile she’d been unsure of what he’d think.
“Like is such a weak word, Luce. I’d love your pussy no matter whether you waxed it bare or left it alone. You’re beautiful. All of you,” he murmured as he laid his fingertips against her. “You’re hot and wet. Is this for me?”
She panted as she rubbed her pussy against his hand and nodded. She gripped the sofa armrest above her head and her breasts swayed with her movements. Like a magnet to steel, he came to her and pressed his lips against her abdomen, just below her navel. Her belly fluttered at the stimulation and he smiled when he felt her tremble. He wasn’t the only one affected by the moment. “I’m on the pill, Patrick.”
“I’m clean. I haven’t been with a woman since Elizabeth. I was tested right after…you know…to make sure. I’ll use a condom if you’d like.”
“No need. I believe you. Just go easy. It’s been a while.”
No other words could’ve affirmed his desire to take good care of her like those did. She’d always inspired his protective instincts. The last thing he wanted was to be too rough with her.
“Oh, Patrick,” she whispered as he kissed a trail to the side of her mound, at the top of her upper thigh. He rubbed his beard stubble against her inner thigh as he moved downward and kissed her smooth pussy.
She clenched at his shoulder and a needy sound came from her throat as he parted her lips and traced the tip of his tongue over her swollen inner lips. The scent of her juicy, sweet cunt was nearly enough to make him lunge at her and plunder her ripe flesh like a caveman, but he held back.
He slid his tongue over the other side and she arched her back and froze, panting his name. He dipped his tongue into her entrance, heard the catch in her throat at the same time her cunt clenched on his tongue and he knew she teetered on the edge.
He played out the moment, licking deeper with the next stroke, and heard her tiny sob as she whispered, “Yes.”



Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Julian




    
 Recently Julian has been driving me nuts.  Or, because I can’t say Julian has changed, maybe I’m driving myself nuts.
     That’s the great thing about him; he never changes. That’s Julian. Steady, polite, unchanging. He is polite to everyone, including me. Can you imagine how that feels? We’ve been together long enough and I know he loves me, but I still feel he is polite to me? Politeness is meant to be for outsiders, for strangers. I should be special, and I feel special when he opens a car door for me or holds my coat, except I know he would do exactly the same for any woman, even one he had never seen before.
     All this time, and we have never had an argument. Really. We never fight. He lets me know what he wants or how he feels and, if I disagree, he changes his ideas. He is just so reasonable it’s sickening. He says he doesn’t want to upset me, and that I have as many rights as he does, so he tries to think of something different. 
     No, I have just read what I wrote, and it not right. He doesn’t change his ideas, he just puts them on a back shelf. And he certainly does not do what I want just to please me. He is all about velvet compromise, but only up to a point. If we go to the movies, his choice is usually a complicated thriller. If I turn my nose up at that, it won’t worry him at all. He will let me choose instead, and that should be fine. Trouble is, I know if I choose an outrageous chick flick, or something about idiot vampires, he won’t enjoy it. He will sit beside me and I will know that he is simply being polite again. You have no idea how that can spoil a film! I end up compromising myself, and he will thank me by being especially considerate all evening, but I still have not seen the film that I wanted.
     Julian is intelligent and well read. I call him my encyclopaedia. If we are out with friends, he will usually be at the centre of some serious discussion about politics, science, history and people defer to him simply because he knows about stuff like that. He has strong ideas, but he never stuffs them down anyone’s throat. He is too damned polite.
     He has strong ideas about me, too. He knows how he likes me to dress and to look. I don’t have to wear the clothes he likes or keep my hair this length, but he showers me with compliments when I do, and rewards me. If I choose to wear something he dislikes, he lets me know gently (and politely) but does not mention it again. I cut my hair quite short once. I don’t know why; perhaps because other girls in the office had nice short hair or perhaps I was just feeling rebellious. When I got home I already felt nervous and believe I was even trembling when I asked him if he liked it. He sighed and said it would grow back. That was all. My hair was not mentioned again and I swear it grew back more slowly than any hair in the history of the world. I felt bad about it all the time, and I let him dress me in shorter skirts and more revealing tops than ever before. I looked like a tart and did not care. Anything to divert his attention from my hair.
     Julian likes looking at me. He is the only man I know who pays real attention to his wife’s appearance. He notices new earrings. He tells me what he thinks of my make-up, and he has a good eye for what works for my face. True, he is not at home to subtlety and I usually leave the house with more lipstick and shadow than Mother would approve, but I am noticed when I walk into a restaurant. As we sit at our table, he makes quiet comments about the other female diners. He is absolutely merciless if they have not dressed to please, and fans my ego by saying I am the only girl in the place who is not dressed like a frumpy librarian. 
     He likes watching me dress and undress. If we are going out, I am not allowed to put on my dress until the very last minute, so he can enjoy watching me trot around the house dressed in lingerie, stockings, heels, jewellery and make-up. If we are early - he cannot be late for an appointment or table reservation - he may even take me dressed just like that, in all my finery except clothes. Many times he has slipped into me as I rested on my elbows over my dressing table. We can watch each other in the mirror, and I am proud of how I look and how hungry he is for me.
     A silly thing has come up between us recently. He persuaded me to join him at an Art class. I have the artistic ability of a dormouse, but I went along, expecting to paint stylised flowers on table mats along with other women my age. The class was not like that. He signed us up for figure drawing, and we had to work hard. It was interesting, and I made some progress. I can now sketch a figure from life, although faces remain a problem. Julian had no trouble at all. Although he is an engineer at work, he quickly became the star artist in class. While the rest of us were struggling in pencil, the teacher soon had him working in charcoal and pastels, and his portfolio is impressive.
     The trouble came when he wanted to draw me, at home. Not homely portraits of wifey in the kitchen, but of me the beautiful courtesan, dressed to provoke and posed to demand attention. This portfolio contains the best work he has done so far, and it stays at home. There is absolutely no chance any of our fellow students are going to see it, or even suspect it exists.
     I really liked those portraits. It is a tremendous thrill to see myself through his eyes, to know that when he looks at me he imagines this wonderful, fantastic, sexual woman. When he completes a portrait and we sit with it on the easel and raise our glasses to it, I know I am only minutes away from another special session of love-making and the thought makes me melt.
     Then he spoilt it all by showing the secret portfolio to our teacher. We had invited him home for coffee, and when I came from the kitchen, there were my portraits spread over the coffee table. I felt stunned, abused, worthless. My naked body, no secrets left, something that should have belonged only to him but now on display to a stranger. It was all I could do act naturally and serve the coffee.
     Our teacher was effusive. He felt sure that the pictures deserved an exhibition. They would sell like hot cakes, and for hundreds of dollars. Even thousands for some of the bigger ones. He complimented me, of course, but mostly he praised Julian. This was real art, a privilege to see and even more of a privilege to own.
     Once he had gone, you can imagine I wasted no time in letting Julian know just how I felt. He was shocked, he did not understand.  “But you look wonderful,” he kept saying. “You heard what he said...” Then he apologised and was genuinely contrite. I remained furious and still felt violated next day, but what can you do? Life went on, but without the posing. For the moment, at least.
     And then one day, as we made love in our front room, he lifted me onto all fours. I liked that. I like it doggy-style, I like the animal feel of it and the way it feels inside. But instead of mounting me immediately, he began to stroke me, running his hands over my back and bottom. That felt good, and I did not resist when he pushed down on my shoulders until I was resting my head on my arms. My hair fell about my face and I could not see what he was doing.
     “You are beautiful like that,” he said, “Beautiful.” He was running his hands up and down my back. Along my sides, and the sides of my breasts. “Beautiful. I love the way your arse sticks up in the air. You are showing everything.” He bent to brush his lips across my pussy. “Everything. Like this, you are pure sex, nothing else. The woman that every man dreams of. I want to draw you like this.”
     Not a chance. He had spoiled the moment and I push him onto his back to sit on his cock. Any future pictures had better show a real, thinking woman or else. I think he understood, but we said nothing.
     So that is why I am here, in the house alone, waiting for Julian. I have put a towel over the coffee table to make it more comfortable, and dragged it around so my back is to the door. I am dressed the way he likes to see me, stockings, heels, jewellery and too much makeup. In a moment he will walk through the door and see me on the table, head down and my bum in the air, showing him everything. Just as he dreams of me. What will he think? I know, and I know what he will do to me.
     So what happened? Have I stopped being a thinking woman and become a sex object? Of course not. It may have taken a little confusion, but I have decided to be both at once. He loves me, he respects me, and I have taken his portfolio to a gallery. We are talking money and dates.
     His key is in the door. Unbelievably, I begin to tremble. I bury my face as I hear his steps behind me.



Jacqueline lives in Far North Queensland, on the shore of the Coral Sea. She keeps herself busy with her cats and garden, and by writing books - some of which are far too naughty for her own good. You can find out more about Jacqueline and her books at www.jacquelinegeorgewriter.com