Wednesday, 1 July 2015

MidWeekTease where Kenna learns to waddle

Hi everyone.

It's #MidWeekTease time



Having a fantastic chair swivel jiggle time...

The Rock Star's Wife is out tomorrow... So from 2nd July you'll be able to find it by clicking




~Rock Star Nico loved Kenna, and wanted to do everything for her. Swaddle her, coddle her and keep her safe.
The result? Kenna was stifled, so it was inevitable they'd clash.
That clash resulted in them splitting up. Until Kenna turned up at one of his concerts and Nico had the chance to explain himself.
Would she listen? If she did would she understand, accept he'd changed and give them a second chance?
All he could do was lay his heart on his sleeve and hope...
All Kenna had to do was listen to her heart, and his, and decide…
It sounded oh so easy, but was it?~


~~~~~~~~~


Here's your tease...


Even though in some strange way she enjoyed the gig, nevertheless, as the stage emptied, Kenna grabbed her things and stood up ready to make a swift getaway. Three hours and two encores were enough to make her desperate to go and nurse all those re-remembered hurts.
Sam grabbed her arm. "You cannot go yet. There's another encore, he always does three. Look, here he comes back now." She bounced up and down clapping and whistling, as Nico strode back on stage and fastened on his guitar. Short of creating a ruckus, Kenna was stuck.
Five minutes later she was shell shocked and wanted to go somewhere alone, and wonder. Sam was having none of it.
"That was awesome, just him all by himself, eh? I wonder who the Kenna he sang about was? And regrets and stuff. Pity you're Jenna, not Kenna."
 "Yeah. True enough. Ah well." Kenna blessed the fact her new friend had heard her name wrongly.
"You could pretend it was you, but then you'd have been a right divvy, to let him go."
Divvy? Kenna searched her brain. She almost asked Sam if she was calling her an idiot before she remembered Sam wasn't actually talking about her.
"Well it sounded like he thought he was the divvy," Kenna said as Sam tugged her out of the theatre and into a side street.
"Nah, never," Sam said loyally. "This way, come on."
In truth Kenna had been happy for Sam's support, and had been going to say thanks for a great evening and goodbye. Until Sam announced they were going to the stage door.
Kenna had protested. Said she had to go. Pleaded fatigue, beriberi and pure fright. Sam was having nothing of it.
'Ha'way we're going. Dinna talk shite."
When Kenna had held back she'd turned big, piteous eyes on her. "It's my only chance. Don would tell me the toon's more important." The Toon was the local football club. "Well sometimes it is, but not if I can get Hughes's autograph. Hey, he might sign my arm."
 After that, what else could Kenna do other than go along with it? At least Sam hadn't wondered if he'd sign her boobs. Kenna knew if that had been the request, he would have politely declined.
However saying okay and being pushed to the front of the crowd were two very different things.
"Ha'way, let me mate in." Sam had used her elbows to carve a track through the five deep crowd. "She's preggers," she announced for the third, or was it the fourth time, "and I divna want it to pop out on the pavement."
"Sam, this is so not a good idea," Kenna hissed. "I don't look pregnant."
Sam rolled her eyes and patted Kenna's tummy. "Bless her she's a good wee bairn to be. Shove your stomach out and groan that'll do." She hissed the last sentence and the look she shot Kenna would have felled lumberjacks at fifty paces.
Kenna did her best, but never having been pregnant her attempts at a waddle were met by Sam's rolling eyes.
"Ha'way, not very good. You look more like a constipated swan."
 Constipated swan? "Sorry, all new to me." Kenna apologized. "I've never been pregnant." If I had it would have been a miracle.
 Sam snickered. "Never mind, I have. Just follow me."
And heaven help her Kenna did.

~~~~~~~~~~~

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Happy Reading,

Love, R x

Wednesday, 24 June 2015

#MidWeekTease... Where Jules goes on a condom hunt...





As Taken Identity is now on general release, I just have to celebrate that fact with this week's #MidWeekTease




Jules gulped. Her self-imposed ‘No Gray’ was getting harder and harder to stick to, especially when she knew what she really wanted to stick to was him, not her principles. Whoever said principles make a cold bedfellow was spot on. She rather thought it was decision time. It was hard to believe she’d known Gray for less than forty-eight hours. However, she reasoned, if she added up the actual time they had spent together, it was a lot more than she had spent in total in some relationships. A spurious argument, but one she thought she would be using to convince herself they just had to get together and discover what was happening between them. Well, she knew what was happening with her. She fancied the pants off him, and really needed to see if A—it was reciprocated, and B—lived up to what she remembered.
“What are you thinking?”
“Sorry?” She saw Gray’s quizzical look and flushed. “Oh, not much. More wine?”
She stood, lifted the bottle out of the cooler and gestured in the direction of his empty 
water glass.
This was it then, crunch time. If he said yes and drank a glass, he couldn’t drive home.
If he said no—
His look was considered. Jules felt her muscles tense. It was all up to him now. Surely, 
he knew what she suggested. Even though she had been vocal in her no-sex edicts, the effect he was increasingly having on her—and it seemed her on him—somewhat negated that.
Jules had never really understood the phrase ‘a pregnant silence’, until she stood, bottle in hand, looking down at him, sitting relaxed in front of her. Her breasts at his eye level seemingly had no effect on his libido.
As if in slow motion, he shook his head. “No, thanks, no more wine.”
What? She couldn’t believe her ears. After all the doublespeak, the sexual innuendos, the awareness and, yes, his bloody, great hard-ons, he wasn’t going to take what was on offer? Bastard! Bloody, bloody...
“Sorry?”
“I said, I don’t want any more wine, but wouldn’t mind a glass of that rather good whisky you gave me yesterday.” His voice was patient, amused even. His smile showed her he knew exactly what she had asked and what he was agreeing to. “Just a drop though, a mere sniff and taste. I never play after alcohol.”
Help. Jules now felt nervous. What if he was disappointed? What if she was disappointed? This time it was really them, not two strangers who passed—or should that be connected—in the night. How awful if they found reality didn’t live up to that dream-time meeting? Even if he didn’t know it was the same woman.
Oh hell, life was so complicated sometimes.
Her thoughts whirred as she took his empty glass and exchanged it for a tumbler in which she poured the merest drop of malt. Shit, when did I last wax my legs? What state is my bikini line—and the rest—in? Did she have time to check? To do anything necessary? At least she had changed the sheets that morning. In hope, maybe, that despite all her protests to the contrary, something would happen.
Hell, did she have any condoms? She may be on the pill, but there was no chance of anything happening without that extra protection. Sensible women protected themselves from more than just pregnancy. Jules might be head over heels in lust, but she had enough common sense left to remember all the lectures given to them at school about STIs.
“Are you going to join me?”
What?”
He indicated his glass. “With a malt?”
“Oh, er, no, I think I’d better stick to water. I don’t like mixing my drinks.”
One sip and

in the mood I’m in, I’ll be flat on my back for all the wrong reasons.
“Wise girl.” He took a sip of his drink. “Would you like me to open another bottle?” He paused. “Of water?”
Oh, God, surely she hadn’t said about being on her back aloud, had she? However, it seemed not, as Gray was just looking at her with a query in his eyes, not amusement.
“It’s a screw, um, cap, but I’d love another glass. There’s a bottle in the fridge. I’ll be back in a sec.” Jules left the room hurriedly, without stopping to gauge his reaction to her helpless mutterings. She dashed to the loo and splashed cold water on her face before looking in the bathroom cabinet. Spare toothpaste, brush and razor. Headache tablets, no little foil wrapped parcels. Bugger. Where else? Duh, Jules, be logical. You are not likely to want condoms in here, no room to swing a cat, let alone...well, don’t go there yet. Be logical. En-suite, bedside table, hell, even kitchen drawer. Come on, woman, move, look and pray.
She did all three.
She was rewarded in the en-suite and bedroom. Whew, at least I don’t have to explain why I’m rummaging through the kitchen drawers like a maniac. I wonder if I have enough? How many was enough, anyway? She didn’t think they would use all she found, but a girl could live in hope, couldn’t she? She took a quick glance at her legs and bikini line. They would do, she decided, due to the circumstances. Time to get back downstairs before Gray thought she’d left the country. 











Catch all the other #MidWeekTease by clicking here

Happy Reading,

Love R x