Saturday, 30 October 2010
"Sit on your hands, Rosie"
I am glad to post about Lissa Matthews newest book, Cracklin Rosie. Her blog is http://lissamatthews.com/blog/ and she posts snippets of her books on there beforehand as well. She's one of my favourite authors, everytime I read her book I send her a message.
Her books are so intense, they have a lot of emotional depth as well as erotica. They also have a lyricism and the people are very real and not at all quaint. My favourite part of Lissa's newest, is Decker our hero not giving up. He absolutely claims our heroine, Rosie, she's pretty much his from the start and she's a real woman who needs a real man. I know people have a problem with that word, real. By real, I mean someone without frills and has dimensions that we're allowed to see. I've read books where the heroine has resistance to the hero but this one is better because it's real and it doesn't go into cariacture.
Lissa writing speaks for itself so I wil leave you with a blurb, two excerpts and a link. Happy Halloween for tomorrow!
A tool for every job. A belt for every occasion…
Blue Jeans and Hard Hats, Book 2
Food is Rosie’s life, and life is good. She loves it, makes it, serves it in her diner, writes about it in her blog, and she’s happy. At least until a storm puts a rather large tree limb through her roof, and a sex-in-a-tool-belt roofer on top of her cabin.
But that’s not where she wants him. No, she wants him behind her with a strip of leather in his hand. That’s what makes her edgy—vulnerability is not her style. Except the more prickly she gets with him, the more he turns on the charm.
Decker arrives in Blue Ridge, Georgia, with nothing on his mind but a job and some new scenery. His legendary patience is tested from the first moment he meets sharp-tongued Rosie. She’s got hips that sway, non-stop curves and a mouth that needs to be filled with things that are much sweeter than vinegar.
A few singe-worthy kisses, and Decker uncovers passions that will likely earn her every red stripe she’s begging for. And Rosie discovers Decker’s got a hunger burning deep inside to give her anything and everything she needs. Maybe even…forever.
Warning: Between the sheets of this book you’ll find a twist on a decadent southern dessert, sweet rose wine, picnic table sexiness, truck sex, a man who knows how to give a spanking and a woman who knows how to bend over a hot yummy lap.
Mmm. Mmm. Mmm!
I hope y’all enjoy this book. It’s a little longer than Sweet Caroline. It’s a little darker, as some have put it. There’s a little bit of power play going on, but as in all my books, it’s subtle. I like subtle.
Rosie is feisty. Decker is hot. They are firecrackers together."
"“You want me to get his order?”
Rosie glanced at Decker who was staring at her. Evidently, Caroline had picked up on Rosie wanting more than to live vicariously through her and Buck, too. She shifted her gaze back to Betsy, her partner at the counter this morning. “No, I’ll get to him. Eventually.”
Problem wasn’t her getting to him. Problem was him getting to her. And the longer he remained in Blue Ridge, the more he got to her. She’d just admitted to wanting him, just told him she couldn’t sleep because of him. She shouldn’t be admitting things like that. She knew deep down it wasn’t going to deter him, either. Hell no, it was only to make him more determined.
“You sure? I don’t mind. Thinkin’ I might like to get more than his order.”
Rosie would be irritated if it was anyone else, but Betsy was pushing sixty-five. She winked at the other waitress. “Go for it then, Bets. He might be into cougars.”
Betsy laughed. “You bad girl. That man is young enough to be my son. Sadly, I don’t think he comes in here to see me. I believe he’s only got eyes for you.”
Yes, Rosie knew that to be true. He did. And it sucked. He was still staring at her, too, smiling. She didn’t know his friend Buck all that well, but at the moment, she wanted to kill him for asking Decker to come and work on her house. Which in turn would lead to her wanting to kill Caroline because Rosie had no doubt the other woman had mentioned it to Buck. Yeah, mass murder all around.
“He’s a good one.”
Rosie snorted. “How do you know that?”
“I can just tell. You know, my Bert proposed to me three days after we met. The heart knows.”
“So your heart knows that the roofer is what? A good man?”
“Yes. But more importantly, your heart knows it, too.”
“Things don’t happen like that anymore, Bets.”
“Oh, girl, please. The heart is the same. The feelings are the same. The details may be different, but in the end the heart knows. He’s one of the good ones. He’s one of the few worthy ones. Now, are you gonna go get his order or…?
“I’m going. I’m going. You drive a hard bargain. You know that?”
“That’s my job. You’re the granddaughter I never had. Now scoot and stop giving that young man such a hard time.”
Rosie stuck her tongue out at the grandmother she never had and made her way to the other end of the counter. It just wasn’t as easy as Betsy made it sound. Rosie wished it were, but… She shook her head and glared at Decker. “You want the usual? To go?”
“Nope. I’m not in a hurry this morning.”
Of course not. “Well, we’re pretty busy, so how about I get it all bagged up for you anyway and you can give up your seat for another customer. That would be the gentlemanly thing to do.”
“You’re not being very hospitable, Rosie. Might have to talk to your manager.”
It’s not that she didn’t want him around. It’s that she wanted him around too much. It threw her off her game. She didn’t know how to handle a man’s interest like his. Hell, she didn’t know how to handle her own interest in him. She was thirty-seven years old and had never come across a man as potent as him—straight sun-streaked brown hair to his collar, black-rimmed glasses with skulls on the frames, dark chocolate eyes, and tattoos. He had tattoos up and down his back. She’d seen him once without his shirt and stared and drooled like a damn fool. He was gorgeous. At least to her. Most people in town gave him a wide berth until he smiled at them. Then they warmed up, shaking his hand, talking to him, making him feel welcome and at home in their little community. She didn’t want him feeling at home here. She wanted him to go home, back to wherever he came from.
And speaking of that damned smile of his. It was very disarming and melted every woman, even ones older than Betsy, into a puddle. He had eyes for only one woman though.
Why couldn’t he have been one of those overweight, beer-bellied, crack-showing blue-collar guys? It would have made life lately so much easier.
“I am the manager.”
Then there was the megawatt grin. His teeth were pearly white in his tan face, straight and beautiful. Could teeth be beautiful?
“Well, isn’t that fortunate for you? Not to mention, I never said I was anything close to a gentleman.”
He hadn’t, but she knew he was. He opened doors for little old ladies. He shook hands with little old men. He smiled, made small talk with people, and she knew he’d give his last dollar to anyone that might need it. He had that bad-boy look yes, but he was a gentleman through and through. It sucked. Why couldn’t he be a jerk? “Seriously, Decker, what can I get you? We are busy, and I just…I don’t like you.”
“So you were lying out at the truck?”
“No I wasn’t lying. I don’t lie.” At least not to anyone but herself. “I said I wanted you. I said nothing at all about liking you.”
“Ouch.” He placed a hand over his heart as though he really was wounded. “If I believed you that would sting. But, lucky for you, I don’t and my feelings are tougher than that. I can withstand the abuse. Especially now that I know the truth.”
Of course he could take it. She’d been dishing it out to him since he arrived at her cabin and he’d been smiling all the while. There was no way she’d be able to win with him. She was going to lose her heart and in the end, she was the one that would bear the wound. “What do you want from me?”
“For starters, how about dinner? A little kindness maybe? And some conversation.”
“That’s it?” She knew that wasn’t it. She didn’t want that to be it. She wanted there to be so much more.
“Well, I said for starters.”"
Available to buy at http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/cracklin-rosie
"She sat across from him, tense, nervous, fiddling with the menu, the napkin, the edge of the table. She checked the salt and pepper shakers, the half-full ketchup bottle and frowned. She looked around then immediately looked back down when she noticed people looking in their direction.
“Sit on your hands, Rosie.”
“What?” Her wide blue gaze snapped up to his face.
“Sit on your hands. Now.”
“Because you won’t calm down and relax. So, I’ll say it one more time before I come and do it for you. Sit on your hands. One under each cheek.”
Decker didn’t think she would do it but after a few minutes of her looking all around and her teeth worrying her bottom lip, she rocked on the seat as she slid one hand then the other under her bottom.
Her face was bright red, and she was staring a hole right through the middle of his chest. “Rosie, look at me.”
She was. Literal little brat. “Look at my face.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, she did as he asked. There was heat mixed with uncertainty mixed with that ever-present sliver of defiance. He was growing to love that part of her. It made her need for spankings and sexual teasing all the more fun, and watching her walls crumble and fall when she began pleading for the orgasms… Yeah, he was growing to love all those things about her.
“Tell me something you enjoy about owning the diner and don’t look away from my face.”
“The freedom of not working for anyone else.”
That was easy enough. “How so?”
“Well… When I was in culinary school, I had to work to pay rent and such and since I’d worked in the diner all my life, I worked in a restaurant. They were open twenty-four hours so my schedule was pretty flexible around school. I hated being at the whim of someone else though. Working here was different because I was practically running the place during high school, but working down in Atlanta, having someone to report to, having to follow their rules, and their schedules and not having any say about anything... I just hated it. I knew then I would want my own business. I didn’t know it was going to be the diner, but I knew I’d want to work for myself.”
“Why don’t you spank yourself?”
The question caught her completely off guard exactly as he’d intended. Those blue orbs widened again and she was speechless, her mouth opening and closing with nothing coming from between her lips. Betsy, their waitress, chose just that moment to bring their plates. The older woman was boisterous and kind and at the diner as much as Rosie was. She was always giving him an appraising eye, too, flirting with him. He liked it and flirted right back with her, even though she was old enough to be his grandmother. He wanted Rosie to see him as a guy, as a fun guy. He didn’t want her to see him as a threat to her world and if he could win Betsy over, well, maybe she’d put in a good, encouraging word for him.
The woman’s gaze shifted back and forth between Decker and Rosie, twinkling the whole time. She was full of mischief and if he didn’t know better, he’d say she knew his feelings and intentions with Rosie and was firmly in his corner. “Is there anything else I can get you two?”
“I’m set,” Decker beamed, looked down at his plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and fried okra. “Though more tea might be good. Oh and I’m gonna want dessert.”
“Sugar, you can have anything your little heart desires.”
“Don’t encourage him, Bets.”
“Oh hush, now. I don’t know why I shouldn’t. He’s perfectly harmless.”
“Harmless, my ass.”
Decker smirked at the glowering look Rosie gave both he and Betsy. “I think we’re good here for a bit, Betsy.”
“You just holler if that changes.”
She moved on to the other customers at other tables in their section, and Decker turned his attention back to his date. “Chicken and dumplings? I don’t think I’ve ever had that.”
“Nope. Mind if I snag a bite?”
“Can I move my hands from under my ass?”
“Yep. I’m proud of you by the way for keeping them there and for asking to remove them.”
“Yeah well…I’m going to wash them now.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“I just bet you will.”
She slid out of the booth and as she started to walk by, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Kiss me.”
“Yes, here. Kiss me.”
“I’m not letting you go until you do.” She looked around. The nervousness was back, and she was thrown off kilter. He both loved it and felt bad about it, but she needed to get over this hesitation about them being in public together. “Kiss me, Rosie.”
“Oh all right,” she sighed. She leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the lips.
“No. Not good enough.”
She sighed again and when he tugged on her arm, she leaned in again and kissed him for real this time. It was eerily similar to the kiss he’d given her here in the diner a few days before. There was no tongue, but there was heat and intent and he could live with that. “Good girl,” he whispered against her lips. “Go wash your hands. Dinner’s getting cold.”"