Liquid friday with author Roz Lee

This week we are featuring  USA Today Best-selling Author of Contemporary Erotic Romance Roz Lee.

Her beverage of choice is wine.  Which one you say? …

Why don’t you find out yourself by joining Roz Lee and thirteen other authors for “A Day of Wine and Romance”, tomorrow Saturday April 30, 2016 at the Brook Hollow Winery, 594 NJ-94, Columbia, NJ 07832.  Admission is Free,  optional wine tasting $5.00

So grab a glass of your favorite wine in anticipation of this event, sit down and relax checking Roz Lee’s newest release:  The Backdoor Billionaire’s Bride

backdoor 2Blurb:

Ford Adams had led a charmed life, but if he doesn’t figure out how to make the equivalent of a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, and sell a boat-load of them, he and his mother might find themselves flipping burgers. Determined not to let that happen, he’ll need all the help he can get—especially from his sexy new business partner. If he can get her to take a chance on his crazy new idea, then maybe he can convince her to take a chance on him.

Becky Jean Parker’s life has been anything but what she’d imagined it would be, but she’d been content until a recent turn of events once again left her no choice. Unless she wants to wallow in bankruptcy for the rest of her life, she’ll have to go along with her new business partner’s insane plan and pray he knows what he’s talking about. The only thing crazier than Ford’s plan to sell sex toys is her attraction to him. Typical of her life, she’d had no choice but to fall for the one man she can’t have.

Click on the book links for more:

Amazon US Amazon UK –  Amazon AU –  Amazon CA –  iBooksKoboB&N

All Romance eBooks Smashwords

Interested in reading more, hold on here comes an excerpt, but before that let us drive home the concept of more wine and more authors below:

winetasting

Excerpt:

“The first-ever, lock-in-place butt plug!”

BACKDOOR_OP4Her insides turned to ice while, inexplicably, heat infused her skin. She didn’t need a mirror to know her face had turned tomato red. Her gaze automatically went to the printer dripping plastic droplets onto an ever-growing pile. Could the item really be…? She had no idea. She’d read about their use in a few steamy romance novels, but she had no firsthand knowledge of the devices.

“You can’t be serious.” Needing to steady her nerves before she went ballistic on her business partner, she reached for her wine, brought the cool glass to her lips, and drained it.

“I’m dead serious, Becks. It won’t take much to retool one of the machines to make them. We’ll keep packaging to a minimum—a plastic bag with a cardboard header. We’ll earmark the first five hundred as free samples, which you’ll send out, worldwide, to wholesale adult toy distributors. I tell you, this will work. People will buy this product.”

“Are you insane? First, this is Butte Plains. If we start making… those things”—she nodded toward the printer—“all our employees will quit. Second, I don’t know anything about the adult toy industry. I wouldn’t know where to start if—and that’s a very big if—I were to agree to your ridiculous plan and we could convince our people to produce the… things.”

“First,” he mimicked her not-quite-business-like shrieking voice, “our employees will make what we tell them to make if they want to keep their jobs. If they quit, then what is the unemployment rate in Butte Plains? Ten? Fifteen percent? We’ll replace them. Second, you’re a smart woman. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Internet. It shouldn’t take you more than a few hours to acquaint yourself with the major adult toy wholesalers.”

She barely heard what he said after he called her smart, but evidently, her subconscious had been listening. She caught up quickly. “Even if we could accomplish a miracle turnover, do people buy those things?”

“The adult toy industry is huge, Becks.”

“I wouldn’t know.” She forced her thoughts away from the cute pink vibrator she kept in her nightstand for those times when she needed release in order to remain sane. Ford might be right about sex selling, but she’d never in a million years let him in on how lonely she’d been since returning to Butte Plains. Some things a girl had to keep to herself.

“Trust me, sex sells.”

“Even if it does, what makes you think your… item will sell?”

“Mine locks in place. It’s a huge improvement over anything on the market today.” He got up and crossed to where the printer put the finishing touches on his creation. “There will be some assembly required before packaging. I’ve already contacted Scott about the locking mechanisms. He designed one a couple of years ago for a project that never went anywhere. He’s willing to let us use it for a few pennies royalty on each unit sold. He’s sending me a case of them by special messenger to try out. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Who’s Scott?”

“My best friend and business partner. He’s an incredible designer in his own right. Luckiest day of my life was the day we were assigned as roommates at MIT.”

“Oh.” Did Ronny know about Ford’s relationship with Scott? Maybe they had a three-way going on or something. Not my business.

Becky gathered the dirty dishes and put them in the sink. Leaning back against the counter, she gazed at her insane business partner’s back. He had one thing right—they needed to do something different, but did they have to dive ass first into the adult toy manufacturing business? Turning, she rinsed the dishes and put everything into the dishwasher. When she spun back around, Ford stood in front of the table, his new creation in his hand.

“It doesn’t look any different on the outside. The locking mechanism will be what separates it from the run-of-the-mill variety.” He flipped the item over, examining it from every angle.

“I just don’t see it working, Ford.”

“Have you ever used a butt plug?”

Heat rose to her cheeks. “No. I’ve never even seen one.”

“You through there?” He nodded toward the kitchen prep area.

“Yeah. Why?”

He set the plug on the counter. “Come on. It’s time for us to take a field trip.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, sinking into the soft leather seats of his luxury rental car.

“Don’t ask.”

“I don’t like this, Ford.” She reached for the door handle.

“Okay, okay.” Before she could bolt from the car, he cranked the engine and drove down the driveway. “There’s an adult store out on the Interstate. I saw it when I drove in from the airport.”

She knew the place—by sight only. “You can’t be serious.”

“I wish you’d quit saying that. I’m dead serious, Becks. I appreciate what you and my dad were trying to do, but the fact is we need to change course, and fast. We’re headed straight for the iceberg. If we hit it, we’re all going down. You, me, my mother, all our employees.”

He painted a grim picture, but, in truth, she’d seen the same one hanging on the wall. But there had to be another way.

“If you’ve got a better idea, this is the time to speak up.”

Damn him for being logical. “No. Sadly, I don’t have any idea at all, much less a better one.”

“Then give me the benefit of the doubt here, Becks.” He pulled into the blessedly empty parking lot and cut the engine. “There are thousands of these stores across the country. They’re springing up in malls and respectable neighborhoods, too. Many are women-owned businesses. You should like that.”

“Impressive.” Not.

“Come on. Let’s go inside.”

“No.”

“Come on, Becks. Consider this your first class in Marketing to the Adult Toy Industry 101.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “What if someone sees us? What will they think?”

“I hope you do see someone you know. It will help convince you normal people are buying this stuff. As for what they’ll think… well, I suspect they’d wish they could help you with whatever it is you’re buying tonight.”

“I’m not buying anything.”

“Just wait until you see what they have to offer. You might change your mind.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.” She reached for the door handle. “I’m going to go inside, but only so I can gather enough information to point out the errors in your plan.”

Ford placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her through the aisles toward the back of the store where a flashing neon sign said Anal Play.

“It’s okay to look around, Becks.”

“I don’t want to look around.”

“Sure you do. This is the kind of place you can’t not look around. It’s like an old-time carnival—filled with oddities you’re drawn to even though you know you shouldn’t be.”

Damn. Why did he have to be right all the time? She’d already spotted several things she wouldn’t mind taking a closer look at, but Hell would freeze over before she’d admit being curious. “Let’s just do what we came to do and get out of here.”

“Sure you don’t want to look around?”

“Positive.”

Meet the Author:

rozLeeUSA Today Bestselling Author, Roz Lee is a displaced Texan who lives in New Jersey with her husband of almost four decades, and Bud, an overly large rescue dog who demands regular romps in the woods no matter how busy his parents are.

The mom of two daughters, one a police officer and the other an economist married to a pilot, Roz collects Depression glass, and teacups with rose patterns. Her favorite food is Tex-Mex, and she’s never met a piece of chocolate she didn’t like.

When Roz isn’t writing, she’s reading, or traipsing around the country on one adventure or another. Warning—she brakes for antique stores!

 

You can follow Roz Lee via to Blog, Facebook,  Twitter, Pinrest, Google, or learn more on Amazon Author Page or Goodreads.

And just in case you are still wanting for more, we have another excerpt for you:

“Ford?” Becky knocked on his open office door then stepped inside. “Got a minute?”

He put down his pencil and rocked back in his chair. “Sure. What’s up?”

He’d been working on a new design the last few days, and seemed to have lost track of routine things—like shaving and combing his hair. He looks like he just climbed out of bed.

She had no business thinking about a sleep-tumbled Ford. They had a purely professional relationship that, due to the nature of the business, included him seeing her naked ass on one occasion—but it had been a one-time occurrence, and an emergency to boot. Nothing remotely similar would happen again. Becky wouldn’t be seeing his adorable disheveled countenance across the bed, so best to quit imagining it. Besides, as soon as they put Adams Manufacturing back on an even keel, Ford would start looking for a buyer for the share of the company he controlled. He’d been clear from the beginning about his desire to go back to his life in New York, and she couldn’t blame him. Butte Plains didn’t rate a dot on most maps. The nightlife here consisted of high school football games in the fall and catching lightning bugs in the summer. The pace of life was two steps behind slow and getting slower with each passing day.

She closed the door and approached his desk. “I have good news and bad news. Which would you like first?”

“Might as well start with the bad.” He sighed and held his hand out for the paper she extended to him. “Don’t make me read it, just tell me.”

“We’re running extremely low on raw materials. If we don’t pay some of our suppliers, we’re going to have to scale back our production of the Safeguard Backdoor Locking System.”

“Bottom line?”

She named a figure that made him whistle. He dropped the paper on his desk. “And the good news?”

“We need more raw materials.”

His brows knit as he stared up at her. “Isn’t that the same as the bad news?”

“No. It’s the opposite of the bad news.” She could barely keep the smile off her face, but she loved turning the tables on Ford. “See?” She handed him another sheet of paper. As he read, his face relaxed then his lips curved upward in a tentative smile.

“Tell me this isn’t a joke.”

“No joke. I just got off the phone with the head buyer. They want fifty-thousand units as soon as we can ship them. I promised ten thousand a week for the next five weeks with a promise to fill the order faster if we could manage it.”

A giant smile split his face. “You did it, Becky Jean. You really did it!” He jumped up, rounded the desk, and threw his arms around her, lifting her off the ground with a whoop they probably heard in Dallas. She laughed right along with him.

After printing out the purchase order the buyer had emailed to her, she’d danced around her office until she’d been able to control her expression. Seeing Ford this happy filled her with joy. She laughed and hung on as he spun her around until she became dizzy.

“This calls for a celebration.” He set her down then went back to his desk. Chest puffed out, he produced a bottle and two glasses from a lower drawer. “Tennessee’s finest,” he said, removing the top.

She laughed and accepted the tumbler with a splash of amber liquid.

Ford lifted his glass in the air. “Out with the old, in with the new,” he said. “And, to the latest incarnation of Adams Manufacturing.”

They tipped their glasses together until a crystal-clear clink rang out. Becky sipped at her drink while Ford finished his in one gulp, then refilled it and downed the second helping. They were a long way from being out of the woods, but this first order did warrant a celebration. She tipped the rest of her drink back. Coughing as the liquid burned its way down, she held her glass out for a refill.

“We did it, Becky Jean.” They’d done significant damage to the bottle of Tennessee’s finest. Ford had called Scott to let him know, then drank a toast to his best friend whose locking mechanism was the true success behind the new product. Never mind it had taken Ford’s genius to marry his design with a lock with no other practical application. Several drinks later, he’d waxed poetic about Becky’s marketing skills.

If anything reeked of donkey doo-doo, his statement did. She’d named the product, slapped a bunch of them into boxes, and shipped them off to adult toy suppliers then prayed they’d see what Ford saw—the chance to make a fortune.

She still didn’t believe more orders were imminent, but Ford thought differently, and for the time being, she chose to believe him. For the first time since the reading of Mr. Adams’s will, the doom of bankruptcy seemed less certain.

“To butt-plug wearers everywhere,” she said, lifting her glass.

“Here! Here!”

Liquid Friday with author Damon Suede

Today we will feature a new recipe from Damon Suede, author of homoerotic romance.

Here is a word from Damon:

Hey y’all! Thanks so much for coming to hang out today. The drink I named for today’s post is a dirty whiskey.

Now normally I don’t go for mixed drinks. My family always taught me you should be able to see the bottom of the glass before you drink anything, but dirty whiskeys are something special.

The first dirty whiskey I ever had was made for me by Heidi Cullinan at RT in Chicago several years back. It was Saturday night and it had been a crazy-great week and we were about to cut loose at the big Harlequin party. She mixed up about a half-gallon of dirty whiskeys and the next thing I knew I was dancing an acrobatic samba with a professional ballroom dancer in the middle of about 1500 people. I met so many great friends that night. And there are pictures from that party where I’m dropped back into a bridge with my head aimed at the floor.  

The moral is: if you can’t see the bottom of the glass, make sure your friends mixed it and the dance floor is big enough to hold all the people you want to meet. 🙂

Dirty Whiskey Recipe:

  • 1 Part Bailey’s Irish creamwhiskey
  • 1 Part Irish Whiskey

Mix in a mixing cup by shaking with ice, pour through a strainer… oh yeah,  then enjoy while we look at Damon Suede’s  latest book PENT UP.

 

A word about   PENT UP:

Ruben Oso moves to Manhattan to start his life over as a low-rent bodyguard and stumbles into a gig in a swanky Park Avenue penthouse. What begins as executive protection turns pentuppersonal working for a debonair zillionaire who makes Ruben question everything about himself.

Watching over financial hotshot Andy Bauer puts Ruben in an impossible position. He knows zero about shady trading and his cocky boss lives barricaded in a glass tower with wall-to-wall secrets and hot-and-cold running paranoia. Can the danger be real? Is Andy for real?

What’s a bulletcatcher to do? Ruben knows his emotions are out of control even as he races to untangle a high-priced conspiracy and his crazy feelings before somebody gets dead. If his suspicions are right, Andy will pay a price neither can afford and Ruben may discover there’s no way to guard a heart.

Lets read a little excerpt taken from Chapter 5:

Ruben laced his fingers together in his lap, conscious of Andy’s splayed legs bumping against his as the car curved through the dark trees.

How could it only have been a week? Joking and bickering like this, smiling and snapping at each other, they sounded like… something else.

I like this guy way too much.

Central Park watched them through the tinted glass.

“Suit looks great, Señor Oso.” Andy coughed. “Me parece increíblemente guapo.”

Whatever that meant, it sounded positive. Ruben blinked and turned, drunk on the attention. Greedy for it. “Yeah, okay. I don’t habla español.”

Andy checked out Ruben’s shoulder, the legs, the glossy loosened tie. “Means handsome.” It came out a whisper and Andy looked away out the windows.

Uh. “Thanks.” His heart thumped blindly in his chest. Any second it would stumble and knock something breakable over and smash it to pieces. “You got good taste, Bauer.” Too fast, too fast.

Andy closed his eyes. The rhythm of the car rocked his skull against the leather upholstery. “You ought to learn, one of these days.”

“To dress?”

“Spanish. Might come in handsome.” He snorted in slow motion and looked back. “Handy. That is.”

“Sure. Right after I finish medical school and my MBA, before I start my talk show on the space station.”

Andy smiled and sighed, square jaw clamped. “It’s not that hard. Beautiful language besides. Claro.”

Clearly. He’s teaching me.

The town car veered to the left and Ruben had to grip the door to keep from being shifted against his boss’s strong legs. They passed under some kind of bridge and then slowed to a stop. They inched along in the Park’s crosstown traffic.

He could imagine himself on Andy’s terrace staring down at Central Park. He looked out the window at the passing trees: nature boxed in so a few penthouses had something to look at.

Andy rolled his head to watch Ruben watching him.

Buddies. Yeah, right.

Andy pushed himself back, shifting his weight. His hand scraped Ruben’s and… remained on the seat, separated by a millimeter or two. The light hair on his wrist brush-brushed the wisps on Ruben’s, rocked by the car’s motion.

Ruben swallowed. He wanted to slide the hand away from the delicious feathery scrape, and at the same time wondered how long Andy would leave it there. He wondered what would happen if he closed his dark square paw over Andy’s, laced their fingers and squeezed. He could imagine the way their knuckles would intersect and the exact pressure of Andy’s smooth palm against his. That skin.

Occasionally the car jostled them as it navigated potholes and pedestrians, gently rocking their shoulders, but their two hands stayed nailed to the firm, soft leather, barely touching, but touching nonetheless. That warm strip of Andy’s hand made it hard to breathe.

Why didn’t Andy move his arm back? Then again, why wouldn’t he? As the car glided under the black trees, Ruben’s whole being, all his attention, tightened around the half-inch of faint contact between their skin. Ruben imagined he could feel Andy’s pulse, then realized he was hearing his own as it jarred his skull.

If the brushing contact wasn’t an accident, removing his hand first would send a clear message. Easier to leave it there in case.

In case of what?

In case he was a queer? In case his boss was another? In case they needed to go out together to spend another fifty thousand American dollars to buy nothing in particular in a room full of strangers? The money and the man had gotten all jumbled in his head.

Maybe that was it. Ruben had gotten sucked in by all the sloppy luxury and forgotten whose it was. He wasn’t gay, just broke, sober, and lonely. Even if Andy was some kind of closeted homo, he had no interest in playing house with some middle-aged macho he’d known for a few days and rescued from a couch. Ruben had clocked the predator in him. If Andy wanted a dude, he’d lease some Calvin Klein model with a trust fund and a degree in corporate espionage.

And still, and still…. The butterfly stroke of Andy’s wrist hairs dried his mouth and pricked his eyes, and Andy had no clue. I want him.

All too suddenly, the car sliced out of the trees across Fifth, headed east.

I’ll quit in the morning.

You can find all the purchase links by clicking here.

For more of Damon Suede’s books click here.

About the Author:

Damon Suede grew up out-n-proud deep in the anus of right-wing America, and escaped as soon as it was legal. He has lived all over: DamonSuede-crop200Houston, New York, London, Prague. Along the way, he’s earned his crust as a model, a messenger, a promoter, a programmer, a sculptor, a singer, a stripper, a bookkeeper, a bartender, a techie, a teacher, a director… but writing has ever been his bread and butter. He has been happily partnered for over a decade with the most loving, handsome, shrewd, hilarious, noble man to walk this planet.

Addictions: sweetness that isn’t sentimental, wit that isn’t bitter, strength that isn’t cruel. Allergies: professional victims, half-assery, clichés. Damon is a proud member of the Romance Writers of America and served as the 2013 president for the Rainbow Romance Writers, RWA’s LGBT romance chapter.

Though new to gay romance, Damon has been writing for print, stage, and screen for two decades, which is both more and less glamorous than you might imagine. He’s won some awards, but his blessings are more numerous: his amazing friends, his demented family, his beautiful husband, his loyal fans, and his silly, stern, seductive Muse who keeps whispering in his ear, year after year.

Monomania !

imageHello Readers,

I finished reading a book (review to follow) and went to switch it out for a crisp new one in my shelf, when low and behold (yes, people still talk like this) I discovered I was missing #Sunstone #Comic Number 3. Now, anyone with #OCD will understand the meticulous nature with which I put my things away, in order. OCD kicked right in and I actually began to feel the effects of a little stress.(coping mechanisms in place for anything more)

Control freaks such as myself like things the way they damn well put them! So I was not my happiest self and considered playing some Minecraft or approaching this problem like a detective (hey, Sherlock…) Guess what won?!

(Nostalgia boner when I hit the shelves with #AnneRice and #CeciliaTan #books I’ve read over and over again)

Anyway, I’m getting a little off topic- I #stressed and immediately began rummaging through everything, emptying three bookshelves, and then the adrenaline spike wore off and I was left trying to restore everything to its original state with a tired and still unfullfilled mind.  In the midst of this I did find an unread book that belonged to my hubby and, being the good natured sort I am, decided to put it in his bookcase for him. (Wifey bonus points brought me up to #level9000 here!) Guess what I found in the process… Yup, LOL- the hubby is guilty of reading my comics again. (Side note to hubby- sometimes I just love you so much!!! Teary eyed that you read it.)

After a good laugh and a little dusting my day resumes with a new book in hand and a tidier bedroom. Now, I can get back to writing a new short story.

 

Taking reading to an almost pathological level, LOL,

Eden Freed

 

 

Liquid Friday with the host Eden Freed

All right my dear friends, it looks like this is the time to feature myself.  Kind’ a  strange I did not do it before.  So here it goes:

 

My favorite drink is the Zombie:Zombiecocktail

Ingredients:

  • 1 part white rum
  • 1 part golden rum
  • 1 part dark rum
  • 1 part apricot brandy
  • 1 part pineapple juice
  • 1/2 part 151-proof rum
  • 1 part lime juice

Zombie cocktail 2Mix all except 151-proof rum in a shaker with ice.  Pour into a glass and add 151-proof rum.

Simple right?  Believe me you will be a Zombie after one or two of these babies.

 

While enjoying this cocktail, lets talk about Violet Blooms:

A young aspiring actress, majoring in Theater Arts in her last semester of school, must overcome mediocrity and learn to take direction in time to be discovered by a talent scout VioletBloomsActingThePart1during her final performance. Her new acting coach decides to teach her direction through a non-conventional method: introduction to BDSM. Will Violet have what it takes to learn the art of role playing or will she end up on the “casting couch?”
Here are a few excerpts from our book:

From Chapter 1:
“Frankly, you frustrate me Violet. I could teach you,” he said and I felt Chase hand grip my wrist and pull it towards him. Something in his face changed from excitement to concern and he let go of me and straightened out his shirt. He sat back in his seat and blew out through pursed lips before he said, “There are rules.”

From Chapter 2:
Without even hiking my jeans and underwear back up, I sat bare assed on the cool leather couch and awaited my punishment. My lower lip was trembling with nervous anticipation. I could feel my breaths coming in short gasps keeping time with Blythe’s quick footsteps as he returned

From Chapter 4:
I loved each sub for who they were, but I wasn’t in love with them. Detaching myself from IMG_5560my subs a little made me a better master. I was more objective and able to exact obedience from them. One look at Violet pushed all of my reservation aside. I wanted to possess her completely and utterly.

From Chapter 13:
Love isn’t easy. It takes courage. There are days when you just want to walk away and call it quits because you feel as raw inside as you do outside, but you don’t go because it would hurt even more,” she said and sighed. I felt the same way. Georgette looked at me for a moment and asked, “Did you want me to make a collar for her?”

 

To learn more about Eden just click here.

 

Liquid Friday with D.S.Wrights

Today the favorite from D.S. Wrights are not recipes but wonderful choice of fine wines.

Here is from D.S Wrights:

South Australian Cabernet Sauvignon, or Chilean Shiraz. Heavy, velvety red wines from the southern hemisphere are my favorite drinks.winecabernet

So lets have a seat with a glass these fine wines and check out more about our Featured author.

DSWrightshand3quote1

Circuit Heart:

circuit heart_Billionaire’s daughter Karissa Larke can buy everything her heart desires, but not what she needs. Having lost her brother in a failed kidnapping and her mother by suicide, Karissa turns to her only friend: Adrian, her father’s prototype personal security android.
As they start to explore their feelings for each other, both have forgotten an essential fact: Adrian belongs to the NAME corporation and their executives have decided to cash in on their property.

The Beast and Me:

Meg was abducted. For four days she had nothing to keep herself sane, until she promised DSWritestbamkdpsmallto be obedient. In return she received a diary, not knowing which terrors she would be writing down soon. Because Meg has been taken to this unknown place for one purpose only: to support her abductors in ‘socializing’ one of their subjects. Ten, as they call him, seems to be far more than a primitive beast, fighting battles of his very own. Meg soon realizes that she is the only one able to tame him. And that, apparently, is the sole reason she is more or less treated as a human being. As Ten’s humanity resurfaces Meg has to accept the truth that the real beasts aren’t behind bars. This is Meg’s diary. Will you read it?
This story inspired by Beauty and the Beast and is part one of a series. It is not a romance.

About the Author:

D. S. Wrights was born and raised mostly in Germany. She speaks three languages fluently: English, German and Dutch.  Her name is a pen name and she describes writing as her passion and calling.

Two short stories were published during high school, one as a school project and one in a regional newsletter. Later she worked at a publishing house where she earned insight into the work, process and production of publishing books.

In the last few years she has published several fan fictions to which the feedback was overwhelmingly positive.

The Beast And Me is her first published novel.

D.S. hasn’t always written stories like The Beast And Me and she is still writing stories from all kinds of genres that do not have horror aspects or are targeting adults only. Those stories are published with under a different name. So if you like her writing style but not really the genre, you might want to check out her other books, which soon will be published.

Her name actually is a play on words and language. D.S. is put together from the initials of her internet name and Wrights simply has the same sound as writes.

Before writing she prefers to bring herself in the right mood for the story, listening to specific songs, reading through what she has written before ans especially talk about the story with friends and fans. So feel free to write to her, using the contact link above.

You can follow her on Facebook and twitter . by clicking on the links.

 

Chapter 1.3

“Vasyli, we have eh, a little situation. Sergey was here with that girl. Adriana,” the large man began speaking into his phone as he walked back towards the mansion.

A series of gunshots sounded amidst terrified screams as the guests were searched and eliminated. The few party-goers that took off running from the front of the mansion were gunned down and dragged back inside. It was just a matter of time before someone came for Adriana’s body and discovered us. I had to get Joy out of here, fast. We were too far off the private road for the sound of shots to be heard by anyone not already at the party. My guts tightened as I shoved the gun in my pocket and tried to formulate a plan. Everything seemed reasonable until I got to the expanse of land between the house and the road. If they looked out the front door during our flight, we’d be nailed.

“Joy,” I whispered. “We’re going to duck behind the cars and move towards the last one. The valets left the keys in the vehicle. Hold on, where are the valets?” I asked, getting down on my stomach to look under the cars. The cloudy night sky hid the moon, but was still light enough to make out the figures on the ground by the red Alpha Romeo I passed on the way in. I remembered how they laughed as the cab pulled up and I got out, looking like a beggar among thieves. Ironic, isn’t it? The one year I decide to attend this happens.

She looked frail. Her limbs involuntarily shaking. It wasn’t from the cold, but she must have been going into shock. I righted myself enough to remove my jacket and place it over her arms. Joy’s skin was as soft as roe petals in my hands. “We’re heading towards the black Lexus. Stay down and move as silently as you can.”

“How do you know its bl-black?” she asked with her teeth chattering.

“I saw it when I entered. The guy was handing his keys to one of the valets and making a snippy remark that stopped them from laughing.” She gave me a confused look and I said, “I’ll explain later. We need to get out of here, now.”

Twice she stopped, hesitating nervously as we got closer to the car. The odd shot rang out inside the mansion and the noise shifted from people screaming to people shouting. We didn’t have much time. I made the unchivalrous gesture of giving her a little push on the posterior. “Don’t stop,” I whispered.

Her eyes were tearing. “They’re going to kill me.”

“No, I have you and I won’t let anyone hurt you. Keep going.” Joy lost it and started babbling, frantically. She went to scream and I put my mouth over hers. A kiss, nothing more, but it was enough to stop her. “Shh.”

Just before we reached the car a downpour started. Lightning flashed, lighting up the grounds. Joy saw the valets laying on the ground a few feet from the car and I wasn’t fast enough quieting her. She let out a yelp as I opened the passenger door and shoved her inside. Climbing over her, I reached the driver’s seat and started the engine and pulled out from the spot and down the driveway. The sound of gunshots behind me made me crouch down until I was clear. Joy was half sprawled, half curled up on herself between the floor and seat on the passenger’s side.

When we reached the main road, I sat up and looked. Shit! Grand theft auto. At least I didn’t take the Alpha Romeo, probably get the chair for that. A bright set of high-beams behind us told me we were not out of trouble. “Stop the car!” she screamed as I sped up and headed down Merritt Parkway. “They’re behind us! Go faster!”

Trying to keep my wits, I took a jug-handle off and onto route 104. I spun the car around, dousing the headlights in mud before I parked behind the Lakeside Diner, waiting to see if they would pass us. As the car continued on route 104, Joy found the gun in the coat pocket and pointed it directly at my face.

TBC next Week