I’m fortunate to have the opportunity today to introduce you to one of my favorite Facebook friends and authors, Amelia James. She’s funny, smart, and an overall interesting person. She’s unapologetic in her quest to write “trashy” and she loves what she does.
I asked her why she chooses to write what she does, and here was her response:
“I enjoy writing MFM menage because I’m selfish. I spend all my time taking care of others. MFM is all about ME being the center of attention. ;)”
I love it! (And, quite frankly, I share her feelings!) Today she’s here to share her latest release, so let’s give her a warm “innerwildkat” welcome! You guys know the drill…don’t be shy. After you read, share your thoughts!
Dependable paralegal Claire O’Connor knows the man of her dreams is out there waiting for her, and she’s ready for him. Imagine her surprise—and delight—when she discovers not one but two men who lust for her. One adores her; the other challenges her. One makes sense; the other is a gamble.
Despite the family tragedy that shaped his past, JT Luck has only known professional success. His personal life, however, is a failure. He doesn’t want a relationship, and while his ‘let it ride’ attitude keeps most women at a distance, Claire is eager to roll with him.
But when she finds out Kurt Langston, the office’s resident computer geek, harbors a secret crush for her, she wonders if he’s the safer bet. Kurt doesn’t get close to people, and his feelings for Claire make no sense in his carefully ordered life. His unexpected bond with JT pushes him to take chances he never imagined.
Go all-in or go home? Either way, the heat could be more than they can handle.
Stiletto heels clicked on the floor as she got up, trembling a bit as she took the position he’d indicated. “Would you rather have me stand over there?” She nodded toward the revealing patio doors. Light from his neighbor’s house penetrated the backyard—someone could be watching even at this hour.
“No. This time you’ll strip just for me.” He raised the glass to his lips then changed his mind at the last second. “Take your pants off.”
Shivers coursed down her spine. Just for him—a private audience. She unsnapped her jeans and lowered the zipper, peeling them down her hips to her knees. The shoes had to go, so she stepped out of them and kicked her pants across the room. Goose bumps covered her legs.
Standing in the big open kitchen, exposed to him, but shielded from the world outside, rattled her. The idea of having a larger audience frightened her less than the prospect of taking her clothes off for his intense gaze alone. She shook her head.
“Good.” He swirled the untouched scotch again. “Lose the panties.”
With a tug and a wiggle, she dropped the cherry red satin to the floor, leaving her naked from the waist down. She’d expected to remove her sweater next, but the bastard exposed her most vulnerable flesh first.
He groaned and emptied half the glass in one swallow.
Then he picked up the bottle and refilled his drink past the point it had been before.
Claire sputtered. Half-naked, showing off the good parts and he reached for the bottle? “Are you fucking kidding me?” What does it take to light a fire under his ass?
JT grinned. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
As she prepared to unleash another curse, she realized he’d played her, and she’d tipped her hand. She smiled and slid her bare feet across the floor, parting her thighs and exposing her ace in the hole.
But instead of folding, he stared at the counter, oddly transfixed by the inanimate object. His calculating gaze slid up and down her legs, then back to the countertop. He’s measuring. Hot dew collected between her legs as she imagined him bending her over the solid quartz.
“Put the heels back on.”
She nearly fell on her bare ass as she tripped into her shoes.
“Now go to my bedroom.”
What? “But I thought—?”
“Don’t argue.” He picked up the glass and pointed with it toward the hallway. “Upstairs, last door on the right.”
No kitchen sex. Damn it. She could’ve maneuvered him in front of the window, but maybe his bedroom provided a better view. She turned and took two trembling steps.
Suddenly, glass clacked on polished stone and wood scraped tile as JT got to his feet.
He grabbed her arm and jerked her back, jamming his straining hard-on against her naked ass. His zipper screeched open as he grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her body against the unforgiving island.
She gasped and slapped her palms on the stone slab, thrusting back against him as his cock invaded her from behind. What the hell happened?
Claire groped for anything she could hold onto for leverage, and sent the now empty glass skittering across the counter. Her scalp burned as he yanked her upright. “Holy fuck! Make me come!”
About Amelia James:
I got hooked on trashy romance novels in junior high, but my mom took them away from me, But she couldn’t stop me from daydreaming. After I got married, I wrote some of my naughtier daydreams down and sent them to Playgirl magazine. Two of them got published. I kept daydreaming and writing stories until my dirty stories turned into trashy books.
I live in Colorado, but I’ll always be a loyal Wisconsin Cheesehead. When I’m not lusting after my next bad boy hero, I’m looking for inspiration in sci-fi and action movies, football players, morally ambiguous lawyers, muscle cars, and kick-butt chicks.
You can find me on Facebook, and on Twitter I’m known as Trashy Writer. I call myself a trashy writer because I want my readers to know that I enjoy mindless escapism as much as they do. I’m not out to win a Pulitzer Prize. (But I’m an award-winning finalist in erotica, USA Book News 2012.) I just want to help someone relax and get away from it all for a little while. I write romance, erotica and trash for fun and pleasure.
Trashy’s Treasures Blog: http://trashystreasures.com/
Good Reads: http://www.goodreads.com/trashywriter