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
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:
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:
“The first-ever, lock-in-place butt plug!”
Her 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.”
“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.
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.
“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.”
“Come on. Let’s go inside.”
“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?”
Meet the Author:
USA 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!
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.”
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.