#SampleSunday – a steamy extract from my satirical #romance ‘CROWNS’

Today is Sunday so it’s time for a snippet from one of my novels.  I choose CROWNS for today’s extract. crowns 3d paperback.png

Background:

‘CROWNS’ is a suspense romance novel and also a satirical comedy looking at our world of reality TV, media manipulation, news and fake news. 

Sophia our heroine, is a cop assigned as bodyguard to a heart-throb American boyband star, Charles, after she saves his life during an attempted kidnap in London. She’s old enough to be his mother, indeed her own teenage daughter has the hots for this media darling.  There is however a strong attraction between Sophia and Charles and a developing romantic liaison.

With ancient family heritage trailing back to France, Charles has unwittingly become a pawn in plans for a political coup in France, where controlling elites are trying to re-establish the French Monarchy.  They want to use him to further their own political aims. He’s filming a ‘fictional’ blockbuster mini-series, based on the story of his own ancestry, on location at a chateau in France.  Sophia’s daughter, Isabelle,  has been scooped up for her own protection and is also at the chateau. After a casting bungle, she’s ended up successfully standing in as the female love-interest character in the film.

Charles’ involvement has made him a target for opposition forces. His life is now in danger.  During the filming, a fatal incident alerts them that there has been  infiltration of the film crew by opposition forces, who, indeed, take control. The rebel chief has put them under guard to stop them from thwarting his dastardly plans in Paris where he plans to murder the French President and now Sophia must find a way of getting Charles to safety. She has engineered a ruse to get the guards to allow them some privacy in her bedroom…

EXTRACT FROM CROWNS

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The two soldiers came with them, one in front, one behind. At her door, one took up position outside, the other strode ahead of them into the room and commenced a search. This was a real stroke of luck. This was the guy who had shown her and Izzy to the room.

“Do you speak English?” she asked.

“A little.”

We met when we arrived. My daughter keeps talking about you.”

Pretty girl, yes,” he said with a shy smile.

She took off her shoes and put one foot on the bed. His gaze flashed to her panties as her dress rode up her thigh.

She will be back later today and I know she would like to see you again. Young people need to be alone together sometimes.”

Yes, yes,” he said.

Maybe Charles and I can have a moment together. I know Izzy would like me to give her some space later on.”

The soldier watched as her hand drifted up to the lace edge of her panties.

You’ll only be just outside, you’ll be able to hear anything that happens.”

You mean—madame, you mean I am here with her later?” said the young soldier.

I can see you’d like that. She has been asking me to get a message to you.”

From the corner of her eye she could see Charles frowning, almost on the point of interrupting.

I can finish three hours of the afternoon,” he said.

I’ll see if I can tell her. Maybe you can give the king and me a few minutes together. Then I would be very grateful,” she said, letting her finger tease inside the hem of her panties as his eyes followed her movements. “Very grateful.”

She could tell that the poor lad was bursting. He had positioned his machine gun to hide his arousal.

“OK,” he said. “Not tell, big problem, please understand.”

The guard stepped outside. As the door closed she tip-toed to the chair and silently wedged it under the door handle. She put her finger to her lips and motioned for Charles to sit on the bed.

Bounce,” she whispered, indicating she wanted him to make the bed creak. She let out an audible orgasmic cry as she stripped and scrabbled into the track suit and trainers.

They’re going to kill us. We’re getting out,” she whispered between simulated cries of sexual abandon.

“What?”

Fuck yeah, fuck me,” she screeched as she got to the window. A grappling iron clattered the balcony of the room above. A plain rope led down to a waiting yellow post office van. She motioned for Charles to come over as she opened the window. She got on the bed to take his place and continued.

Yes! Yes! Yes—fuck yeah aaaaahhhh.”

Charles seemed to be hesitating.

Fuck yeah—go for it now,” she screamed.

He seemed to get the message and took hold of the rope.

“Yeah, that’s it. I’m coming, I’m coming,” she called to him.

He was obviously strong and lowered himself to the ground. She gave one last burst of ecstasy.

Come in my pussy. Fuck. Fuck, do it inside me. Yes! Yes!”

She covered her retreat to the window with a continuous howl of lust. He took her waist as she reached the ground.

Just trust me,” she said.

They clambered into the back of the van on top of parcels and bags of letter. A Brit dressed in the uniform of a mailman of La Poste was at the wheel. He drove away calmly up the long tree-lined drive and turned left onto a road.

We’re heading for a little place called Crazannes. The chopper is in an old quarry. By the way, I’m not Postman Pat, I’m Sergeant Shawn Henning at your service,” he said.

“Are you coming with us?” asked Charles.

No, sir. I’ve got my men in the woods. We’re getting out overnight to the coast. There’s a submarine off Tremblade. We’ll move out once we get the all clear from Colonel Wolf. We’re not anxious for the French government to know we’ve been here. A local gendarme is giving us a lift in the company minibus.

That’ll be Hervé! We’ll have to make sure he gets acknowledged,” said Charles. “You’ll have to fill in quite a few gaps for me about today.”

Sophia leaned back against a sack of Super U hypermarket junk mail flyers. Where to start? Guns, kings, rebels, planes, helicopters, submarines whirled in her head. Then there was her daughter, her job, her flat and a world of politics and showbiz. And her stupid, longing, bloody heart. Ah well, the whole thing seemed more or less kamikaze anyway.

Charles put an arm around her.

There will be a space for us. I promise you,” he said.

******************

Read more from this story and get your copy of ‘CROWNS’ here: http://www.smarturl.it/webcrowns

 

#SampleSunday – a steamy excerpt from suspense romance novel ‘DYNASTY’

It’s time for a Sunday Snippet from one of my novels.  Today, I’ve selected a teaser passage  from my Passion Patrol novel, ‘DYNASTY’.

http://www.smarturl.it/webdynasty

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Background:

My sassy heroine, Shannon, reflects on her first few days in her new police job after meeting a few of the local residents, including the gorgeous local aristocrat, Spencer Earl of Bloxington.

EXTRACT FROM PASSION PATROL NOVEL ‘DYNASTY’

*********************
She had kept her powder dry and her tongue still. In the calm waters of the Fleetworth-Green harbor there were rocks. There was a drug dealer’s hideaway palace and an innocent lad with a record. She had no evidence but she didn’t need it. For now, she had a home to build. As yet the house was not a mess. It was simply bare. A few days ago she had been living in a police section house in Kennington. A room, a warm meal and a shower had been the three pillars of her life—depending on what you meant by life. Those few days ago it had been enough. Now she was salty and stiff from the bike ride. She ran a bath, hoping that the warmth would soothe the slight chill in her soul. She was a long way from her roots in every sense. Her role as a village cop gave her freedom but also imposed a type of solitary confinement. For sure South London was a gritty sweaty jungle, but it was home.
She relaxed in the warm water. Her initial pulse of anger at Jasmine de Montfort’s complaint soaked away. At the end of the day she held the power and she could choose when to do battle. Police preoccupations with petty offenses had always irritated her. She had no doubt that Jasmine was a conniving, spiteful little bitch. Spence-The-Welder could do far better than a sour cow like that. She lay back thinking of his big hands and strong forearms as he had pulled off his working gloves. She could feel the warmth of his body and feel his skin through his open overalls. His arms were around her as they kissed. The workshop and the odor of a male working body aroused her in a strange way. As a maturing teenager she had spent a lot of time in the garage under the arches where her father and other mechanics worked. They did physical, muscular, competent things, chatted her up, sharpened her street wit, and had awakened her to the power of her own sexuality.
At last she opened her eyes. She had almost imagined him to be there. A fulfilling pleasure flowed through her as she dozed a little. They were walking together through dappled sunlight under a canopy of trees. Peacocks strutted about displaying their prowess. There was no world beyond and no one could steal her dreams.
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Find out more and buy online: https://smarturl.it/webdynasty
#SampleSunday

Saturday Share – A weekly heads up for Bargain Books

FREE (1)Nine authors (including me!) have contributed to this collection of stories.  Currently available for FREE on this link:  https://books2read.com/SecretsandSus

PLEASE DOWNLOAD even if you already have my book ‘COMBAT’, which is my contribution to the boxset.  Your download will help me and the other authors to get visible on the sales outlet you choose.  You might just discover a new favorite author! 

A Big THANKS in anticipation 🙂 

 

 

Sunday Snippet – a steamy excerpt from suspense romance novel ‘COMBAT’ by Emma Calin

Welcome to the Sunday Snippet… a taster from one of my books to tease and entice you to try some more.

Combat new print and kindleThis week, it’s a section from my steamy romance between Anna and Freddie… Passion Patrol Series novel, ‘COMBAT’.

If you like what you read you can grab the ebook edition of this story for FREE right now.  It’s included in  ‘SECRETS AND SUSPENSE’ a collection of stories from great nine authors, (including 3 USA TODAY bestsellers!) available on ALL online bookstores, on this link:

https://books2read.com/SecretsandSus

EXTRACT FROM PASSION PATROL NOVEL, ‘COMBAT’

Background:

Anna La Salle is a plain-clothes London Met’ Police detective.  On a rainy evening during a transport strike, she ends up forced to share a cab with an enigmatic, attractive stranger.  He’s gorgeous but there’s something about him that intrigues her, something that doesn’t quite ring true. She wishes she could be just a civilian and flirt with this guy just for the fun of it. It’s tough for female cops to meet prospective boyfriends.  So, she lies about her occupation and says she works for her father’s boat building business. She knows enough about it after all. Tie a truth to a lie. What harm could it do? Just this one time… 

**********************

The cab pushed and swished on towards Buckingham Palace. She saw him studying the famous landmark, as if he were checking out the architecture. In profile his face looked even more male, handsome yet warm. The scar above his right eye constantly attracting her gaze. He was a brute of some kind but he could lie even with his eyes. Once again she found herself responding to him and wanting to touch that scar. In this new world of a few out of reality moments with a gorgeous stranger she could let go, becoming aware of the pulse of life in her breasts and a sense of warmth and longing deep in her stomach. She bit her lip as she consciously allowed these feelings to sweep over her. She took in his striped linen jacket, dark trousers and hand stitched leather shoes. His crisp white shirt accentuated the tanned olive tone of his skin. His shoulders were broad with hard muscular upper arms while his beautifully cut clothes proclaimed the body of an athlete or sportsman.

“So, you know what I do. Do you work in London?” she asked wondering if he would tell her the truth – since she had not!

“Oh, not at all. I am here to sign some papers that’s all.”

“Papers?” she questioned too quickly; aware she could be exposing her cover.

“Just a contract – you know, boring business stuff.”

He looked at her with a caress in his brown eyes. The cab was at Hyde Park Corner, just a short way from the Hilton. Her heart hammered. Soon he would step out into the night and never see her again. It had to be that way. You could dream but your story was your story. Better just accept and live it out any way you could.

“You have to sell boats tonight?”

“No… but–,”

“So, sell me one over a drink at my hotel!” he urged leaning forward, “Surely you want to close on a deal like this?”

She tried to pull herself together. This was fantasy trash with an impossible guy – but what was she afraid of? She could handle this smooth operator, maybe even rough him up a bit.

“But I – I don’t have any brochures with me –,”

“Then you can tell me – I’d rather look at you in any case!”

Anna gulped as the cab pulled up. This was pure snake oil and she had a juicy apple in her pocket. He looked at her with questioning eyes that ran between her and the opened door. She followed, feeling as if she had gone into free fall from a plane rather than stepping out of a taxi into the busy swirl of Park Lane. As he paid the cab driver, she composed herself. Okay, she was the daughter of Mike Leyton – owner of Leyton Marine – the makers of prestige motor yachts. Clients were always rich and often famous. The flagship Nereus 74 was renowned as fast, luxurious, beautifully sleek and exclusive. When she had last seen her father, the waiting list was at least 2 years. It was this glamorous world of racing car drivers, pop stars, sports icons, celebrity and privilege, on which she had turned her back, choosing instead the hard streets of Brixton as a cop and her own quest for respect and success.

The doorman stood aside and nodded respectfully. She caught a look of recognition in his eye as he watched them. Evidently he knew this guy. They walked to the bar. He was several inches taller than her and broad as a barn door. As she kept up with him she sensed his animal power but also his gracefulness. This was no businessman, or if he was, he was completely wasted. Around him was an air of subtle expensive cologne – but beneath that a hint of male – a slight chemical whisper that had carried on the winds and tides across time and evolution. This was a lone bull with no ring in his nose.

She ordered vodka, not something she would normally drink – but so what? None of this was real! She had stepped out of her life and soon she would have to retreat like the tide. He sipped a small beer. The glass looked ridiculous in his large hand. He smiled and gave her a look that she caught and followed like a slow waltz. As he held her eyes she swallowed – realizing that warm and deep within, she couldn’t stop her physical and emotional response. She sat cross-legged, shifting slightly in her seat, pressing her legs together more firmly knowing that her awareness and focus was sharpening and despite herself she was experiencing a delicious teasing pleasure – God she was simply letting herself go! She had boarded the roller coaster and it was clicking up the slope towards some kind of ride…

************************

To find out the rest of Anna and Freddie’s story, download ‘COMBAT’ in the FREE boxset ‘SECRETS & SUSPENSE’ on this link: https://books2read.com/SecretsandSus

FREE (1)

‘COMBAT’ is Also available as an audiobook and paperback from Amazon worldwide:

An American in London #booklaunch #KISKIK #Romance #power

Featured

As if I’d arranged it, the President of America was here in London to meet the Queen of England this week. It’s a job to imagine two different characters yet they seemed to hit it off pretty well. One of the things the British know is that his mother was British – a Scottish lassie from Stornaway on the Isle of Lewis. As I’ve watched the TV footage of the state visit I’ve seen so many things that appear in my new book “Power” where Congressman Jackson T. Paine comes to London and meets his own Scottish lassie, Olivia Johnston-Denny.

1559555031.pngOn any day there will be thousands of Americans in London. On any day there will be Americans working with the British in the corridors and offices of power in an around Whitehall and Parliament itself. As a “humble” congressman, Jackson doesn’t get the level of pomp and security that surrounds President Trump. All the same, he does get to ride in one of those black armored Cadillacs that you see in American presidential convoys all over the world.

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Emma Calin Enjoying The Power of  London

Power in itself is useless. Only when combined with influence does it transform into the murky and lethal business of politics. This is how the British royal family maintain their unique status. With no mud on their lips, they may whisper in any ear. The royals appear in many of my ‘Passion Patrol’ books, starting with the arrival of baby Prince George as a germinal event in Dynasty’. In ‘Crowns’, revolution in France against an out of touch elite government calls for the restitution of the monarchy. In Guilt’, religious terrorists plot to assassinate the royal family of England when they gather for the horse racing at Royal Ascot. If you’ve watched and enjoyed the visit of president Trump to Buckingham palace I just know you’d love these stories.

6 covers an logo

Anneli Power review 99c launchAnd now ‘Power’ is released. Congressman Jackson T. Paine is an Oklahoma farming boy tipped to run for president in 2024. He keeps it simple and has one political message:

‘Keep it Strong, Keep it Kind.’

It’s not a message everyone likes. When he collides with a flame haired girl from a castle on the Firth of Forth, the spark starts a fire. Action and passion unfold in a chase through the streets of London and Naples. If you’ve followed the series watch out for familiar faces like Anna La Salle, Shannon Aguerri, Kaitlyn Thorn, Randolph Quinn and the mysteriously ruthless Bastian Wolf.

Nothing seduces a man or woman like POWER.

Available to buy direct from me, or from all major online book retailer sites in ebook and paperback formats. 

Introductory ebook price of $4.99 $0.99.

Get the book and enjoy the POWER tonight!

Universal Book Link To All Retailers: http://www.smarturl.it/webpower

Enter my FREE online giveaways to win a paperback edition of ‘POWER’ and great limited edition book swag mugs.

PAPERBACK: https://kingsumo.com/g/qe8j6p/passion-patrol-power-launch-party-1
SWAG: https://kingsumo.com/g/f3gram/passion-patrol-power-launch-party-4

Book Launch - 6th June 2019 (1)

Join me on a #romance book tour with Silver Dagger Tours – daily chances to #win #prizes & #giveaways!

passion patrol bannerI’m delighted to have been accepted for a Silver Dagger Tour with my complete Passion Patrol Series.

Maia, the powerhouse behind this book blogger tour service is an absolute star and is so well organised.  Come along and meet her book blogger team over the next month as they discover my Passion Patrol titles.  There are chances to win exclusive swag and prizes by commenting and following these posts.

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive content and a giveaway!

https://www.silverdaggertours.com/sdsxx-tours/passion-patrol-series-book-tour-and-giveaway

…and here’s the list of dates and blogs for you to visit:

May 15

kickoff at Silver Dagger Book Tours

Viviana MacKade

May 16

Lock That Door

Midnight Book Reader

May 17

Craving Lovely Books

Scrupulous Dreams

May 18

Romance Novel Giveaways

May 19

nanasbookreviews

Rita’s reading room

May 20

Readeropolis

Tome Tender

May 21

Shannon Muir, Author – Infinite House of Books

3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, &, Sissy, Too!

May 22

Casey’s Corner

A Mama’s Corner of the World

May 23

2 chicks and a book

A Pinch of Bookdust

May 24

The Magic Of Wor(l)ds

Better Read Than Undead

May 25

Bedazzled By Books

May 26

Books a Plenty Book Reviews

May 27

Educated Book Freak

Luv Saving Money

May 28

Book Review Virginia Lee

Books all things paranormal and romance

May 29

Books, Authors, Blogs

From Head To Tale

May 30

Book Lovers 4Ever

Dragon’s Den

May 31

Always Love Me Some Books Blog

Reviews and Promos by Nyx

June 1

Book-Lover

June 2

Breanna Hayse Romance

June 3

Girl with Pen

Paranormal Palace of Pleasures

June 4

Inside the Insanity

Maiden of the Pages

June 5

Authors & Readers Book Corner

@jypsylynn

June 6

E-Romance News

Momma Says: To Read or Not to Read

June 7

Jazzy Book Reviews

Paranormal Romance Trance

June 8

Stormy Nights Reviewing & Bloggin’

June 9

T’s Stuff

June 10

Sapphyria’s Book Reviews

Sylv.net

June 11

eBook Addicts

Teatime and Books

June 12

Valerie Ullmer | Romance Author

The Book Dragon

June 13

The Bookshelf Fairy

Triquetra Reviews

June 14

Tracie’s World of Books

Yearwood La Novela

June 15

Twisted Book Ramblings

silver dagger logo

Getting randy with Randolph Quinn, another hot steamy tease – this time from ‘Wealth’. Adults only.

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A moment of passion, a ‘sexcerpt’ from Emma Calin’s steam suspense romance ‘Wealth’. This is the first time that Kaitlyn and Randolph make love.  They’re on board the Platinum Demeter – his super yacht, docked on the River Thames in London, just next to Tower Bridge.

The story so far….

Kaitlyn Thorn,  a traffic cop, arrests billionaire banker Randolph Quinn, after he crashes his brand new Maserati into a tree, chased by two figures on a motorbike. He surely seems to be the victim of a targeted attack, but his super-confident manner and cheeky banter arouse her suspicions. She’s left with no choice but to lock him up. This guy is too full of himself. Since that moment her life has been turned upside down. At his request, she’s been assigned to guard him 24/7 at a ‘safe house’. Just who is this guy to demand personal protection – and get it?  But their cover is blown and they just escape a petrol bomb at the new, supposedly secret address. The Albanian mafia is after him and someone on the inside has leaked their location. They’re on the run and now she doesn’t know who to trust.  She’s been ordered to stick with him – whatever happens. Apart from the trouble she’s having keeping him alive,  she’s finding herself increasingly attracted to this dashing wheeler-dealer.  They’re going to make their escape on his yacht – he’s going to pass her off as his latest companion.  She’s not had time to pack – and it’s too risky to return home, After a few hours with his unlimited bank card and a personal shopper in Harrods, she’s all set for whatever is to come…..

 

Chapter 8

She knew she looked good. The sapphire and diamond earrings sparkled in the light from the chandelier. The ring glinted on her finger. The dress was a perfect fit, the slash running just high enough up her thigh to provide an interested man with a glimpse of her lace trimmed panties. Was she allowing herself to be seduced by wealth, power, and sexual desire? Could her integrity be so easily put at risk? Too damned right it could and she knew it. She looked good, the champagne was a dream and Randolph Quinn was gorgeous. It was time to go through that door.

For a moment he didn’t speak. His hair was still wet and even darker, swept back with an aristocratic insouciance. He had changed into a white shirt accentuated by his tan. A Hermes belt held up his black Zanella handmade trousers. She held his eyes before executing her twirl.
“So, so lovely,” he said with an astonished simplicity. “I thought you’d scrub up well, but you didn’t need much on top of what you’ve got. But bloody hell, how am I gonna keep hold of a girl like you?”
“First you’ll have to get hold of me at all.”
He took a couple of strides and pulled her into his arms. His kiss was as if their lips had once before been molded in the history of a man and a woman. It was a finding of place, some place that you would always crave once you knew it existed. A helpless pulse buzzed in her groin. She let him hold her thrilling spot to the hard muscle of his thigh. She was hot and wet, feeling almost too close, far too close. He groaned a little as her belly pressed into his powerful erection. If he ran his hand now up her bare thigh she would come as they kissed with wet searching tongues. She was holding herself tight, feeling his hard cock pushing against her. She was just holding that pleasure, just too long, couldn’t hold back thinking of his cock jetting his juice into her as she came. She played a hard-core fantasy of him jerking off, helplessly pulsing out his sperm. He held her tight in support as she convulsed against him. My God, she’d just let go. She must be gushing as she growled out the last spasm of her ecstasy into his mouth and onto his softly kissing lips.
“That was so beautiful, such a compliment to a man to think someone so lovely would find pleasure in him.”
“I, I, I sort of wandered off into the long grass,” she said.
“I’ll have to fix up some sort of safari on a really big savannah,” he said with his warm smile. “We need to eat and think about our situation.”
She took a deep breath. Bloody hell, she’d just come kissing him. Maybe he hadn’t realized. Teasy aftershocks still flickered in her own little shaft. His hand ran down across her breasts to her waist. He led her to the door and out onto a swish dining deck with panoramic views and a glass-domed roof. The lights of the coast were sprinkled along a dark horizon.
“That’s Canvey Island and Southend. We’re at anchor in the Thames Estuary. Unless the bad guys have got warships or submarines we can relax here.”
She took in the view. They were at the top of the enormous ship.
“I used to sell burgers at my uncle’s fairground diner on Canvey Island,” she said.
He nodded and smiled, pulling her to him.
“We’re from the same pod, ain’t we? I love the old fairground stuff, the rides, the fried onions, the rifle range sideshows and the cuddly toys. I always dreamed a lovely girl would be on my arm one day and I’d win her the prize teddy. Pity we can’t go ashore.”
He spoke in his normal cheeky way but with an edge of sadness. She pushed her fingers back through his hair and looked up into his eyes.
“You could take a girl to a fair, surely.”
“If I could find the right girl and if my life could ever be normal.”
“Like not being a billionaire on the run from the Albanian Mafia. If you want to talk about your options, I’m your girl.”
He tweaked his eyebrow, but didn’t answer.
“One day we’ll have caviar and lobster thermidor, but tonight I’ve just ordered a couple of big rib eye steaks. Don’t tell me you don’t like fries.”
They took a window table while waiters brought them their meals. The steak was rich and soft. He poured generous glasses of red Chateauneuf du Pape. She took a slug of smooth heaven. Added to the champagne, the wine swept aside her reserve and focus.
“So, Randolph just bloody well tell me why you want me here?”
“I saw you and liked what I saw. I said to myself here’s a brave girl who’s out on her own in a cop car, turning up at whatever happens next. How many girls do you think are interested in billionaires?”
“Dunno, might be a few old slappers I suppose. Generally a sweet virgin like me wouldn’t be interested.”
“And that’s why I want you. Kaitlyn, you’re fucking gorgeous and you know it.”
“I want you to know I play Bingo with my mum, I get drunk and sing karaoke, and, and. And I’m starting to really care about you and I’m fucking terrified that you’re going to hurt me.”
She blew out her cheeks. She was a bit drunk and just saying what she thought. She had never been made to play girl games. He reached out and took both of her hands in his.
“Hurt you? You’re afraid of that?”
“Yeah. Simple. I get swept up in you and you soon see the real boring deal. You won’t want any commitment like all the bloody rotten bastards and users, and I’m there with my fake smile saying I understand. Look Randolph, it’s the wine talking, but shit I don’t care. I should never just open up like this, but I’m afraid of my own helplessness if I want a guy. I know it’s not hip or feminazi to tell you that but that’s how I am. Maybe that’s why I shoot guns, do karate, drive fast cars.”
His eyes were on her face, their kindness almost a caress.
“And why you have that tattoo of Ishtar on your arm maybe?”
She nodded. Had she ever truly thought about the reason?
“She represents female power, but a lot of that power is in the idea of giving love too. It says I’m someone, not a cop. It says I’m all sorts of stuff.”
He turned her arm to see the whole design. He leaned across the table and gently kissed the figure at the groin.
“I can’t say I’ll never hurt you. All I can say is that I won’t ever hurt you by turning away from you.”
“How the hell can you just say that about the future?”
“Because I’m the kind of guy who knows what he wants. If I hadn’t known the future how would I have known you’d want a steak? My powers are supernatural.”
“Your powers are barrow boy bullshit crook.”
“And your powers are burger-flipping karaoke girl.”
He shrugged and held her eyes.
“OK, we’re just two black and white biographies fallen from Facebook into each other’s arms. Face value’s the only sensible price if you don’t want to spend too much. Doesn’t mean we can’t dance, I guess.”
He made a sign and a guy started to play a piano in the far corner of the room. The tune was silky and familiar. She had to. She bloody well had to sing.

With a song in my heart
I behold your adorable face
Just a song at the start
But it soon is a hymn to your grace….

His eyes softened in a way she’d never seen a man react as she sang the song remembered from her father’s vinyl Ella Fitzgerald collection when she’d dreamed of being a real singer, not a girl’s night karaoke queen. She hung onto the notes, watching him grip his bottom lip in his teeth, almost as if he was fighting to hold back emotion.
She finished the song as the piano guy stood up to applaud. Randolph was simply laying his eyes on her face and watching her lips.
“So beautiful. You really can do it, can’t you? You could steal a heart from a man, roast it, carve it for his dinner, and he’d be begging for more.”
“That’s one hell of an image.”
“Worked as a butcher’s boy as a weekend job,” he said.
She smiled. She’d caught him by surprise and he’d changed the mood so as not to show his soul. Maybe, just maybe, he’d been hurt too.
The piano re-started. And there on the dark sea with the land of all their dangers held away for this one night they danced, often lips to lips, threatened only by the terror of love.

Chapter 9

It was 2 a.m. Too late to be in his bedroom, watching him undress, the shirt slipping from his broad, muscular shoulders. This guy had the build of a fighter. He hadn’t dragged her there, hadn’t made her sit on his bed to watch the show. God, he had already made her come in her panties with a kiss. Much more of this and she’d have to deal with her issues herself. He ran his hand over the hard flat muscle of his stomach, letting his fingers stray down under his belt where the first hint of his pubic hair teased up onto his tanned skin. His fingers were at the buckle. Kaitlyn, it’s only sex, it’s only pleasure, she told herself. He was watching her, letting her know that he knew where her eyes were fixed.
“It kind of gets personal in a minute,” he said with a slow smile.
She kicked off her shoes and lay back on the bed, propping herself up on the pillows, wantonly showing her panties.
“I did the cabaret, you do the striptease,” she answered, feeling the excited pulse of her lust in the depth of her belly.
He smiled back, flicking off the buckle and stepping out of his pants. Now he stood before her, his hard cock bursting from his white briefs. Her eyes shot to the slight darkening of the fabric where his man juice had already started to flow. She felt evil, wicked. She let her hand drift to her pouting hot groove. His eyes widened as his own hand slid to his cock. Her fantasy was of his semen pulsing into her hot tube. She closed her eyes, let the image take her. Oh God, he was pulling away her panties, his tongue was teasing and urging her on. She opened her eyes to see his head buried in her groin as the jolts of orgasm doubled her over onto him. For a second she subsided, allowed the tease to build without holding herself tight to bring it on. She looked down again. He was licking her, conscious of her climb to her summit, and jerking his own massive cock. His fingers eased inside her as his tongue drew her on and on. Her own hands went to her nipples sending the final sparks of release to her clitoris. She was letting go without abandon, animal sounds expressing the jungle of her woman soul and lust. His hot cock filled her as she was coming and then built her again to some higher peak from which she could only crash like a massive wave. She heard his deep voice urging her as his hard cock drove in to the limit of her flesh. Her own hand reached for her clitoris. She had to catch his wave as he groaned out his release into the heat of her flesh. She caught that same wave, calling out into the blur of desire and coming, coming, coming into the shallows of a tender kiss and the opening of eyes to see the gaze of love returned.

He didn’t move, didn’t turn away but kept his eyes steady on her face. His voice was slow and deep.
“At last I’ve made love with a woman.”
She smiled.
“You’ve made love to plenty of girls, Mr Quinn.”
“I said made love with,” he replied.
“I guess not too often on the first date. I imagine it’s no use saying I’m not that sort of girl if we assess the evidence.”
“It’s not our first date. You invited me back to your police cell, gave me a cup of tea without even a kiss and left me alone all night and I could have done with your company believe me.”
He lay on his back, pulling her to rest her head on his chest, his arm around her. She’d just forgotten everything she knew about men, about being a cop, about every kind of risk. In the warmth and the illusion of safety in his hold she didn’t care. She simply didn’t care.

For the rest of this story, download the complete book at http://www.smarturl.it/webwealth

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Come on without… come on within…

You ‘aint seen nothing like… An author interview with one of Emma’s most outrageous fictional heroes,  from ‘Wealth’… Mr Randolph Quinn.

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A vessel like Platinum Demeter,  on The Thames near Tower Bridge, London.

No matter how ever long I live in London, she will always excite me and I’ll always be a tourist. Although I write about many locations which I’ve seen with my eyes, with London I write first from the heart. In most places I hate winter but here in this northern capital, there’s a blue sky clarity and stoic face of regal stone that says – I’m exposed and stripped; this is the truth of me.

Christmas is piled up and put away behind us now. Around my home in Chelsea the famous London plane trees are bare like naked mannequins in the windows of Sloane Square boutiques, cool and poised for those spring fashion shows. Yes – this is her mood today as I step out into the street. Today I’m a woman on a mission and of course – that means a man.

There are brave enthusiasts who drive cars in London, but why miss all the fun of public transport? Today I’m heading for the Chelsea Harbour river bus stop. The Thames Clipper service speeds up and down the Thames from Putney out to the Emirates cable car crossing, where PC Helen Marx did that fateful drugs handover last summer. As always I’m ten minutes early and there’s no sign of the river bus as I look up towards Battersea Bridge and the iconic chimneys of the old power station. (Pink Floyd fans will know this image from their 1977 Animals album cover).

My mind flicks back to my teenage years. Today I’ve tarted myself up to meet a guy twenty years younger than me. I should know better but believe me, the old urge is still there. I stroll towards the pier. A menacing looking grey open power boat is blocking the landing pontoon. A couple of guys are at the controls. One of them sees me and jumps ashore. He moves with strength and power. He’s headed for me, balaclava type hood framing a handsome face. God I like watching men. I love that big handed kind of competent and confident strength thing. OK – I’m old fashioned but you were allowed to be like that when I was young.

“Emma – don’t you know me?”

I stare. I’m on the way to see a suave banker type. This guy is familiar but all in tight black like a frogman he’s just a broad mass of hard male. OK, there is an outline of something in the groin area. I don’t look – honest. He pulls off the headgear, longish dark brown hair falling free. He beams and reaches out both arms. I can’t help it – that little flutter that’s thrilled me (and led me into all kinds of drama), all my life sweeps up and settles…somewhere nice.

“Randolph – Randolph Quinn. What the hell?

“You told me you were coming so I though you’d like a ride.”

“How did you know where I was?”

“ You said you were coming on the river bus. The guys tracked your phone – come on this is me. You know who we are and what we can do.”

I smiled. For sure I knew what he could do and rather regretted I’d never had the chance to let him do anything to me. I take both his hands. His brown eyes are still full of mischief. I start with an obvious and very banal question.

“Are you still the world’s richest man?”

“Good question. As it happens Kaitlyn’s gone out shopping so maybe she’s made a hole. With a bit of luck I can pull back a few bucks before the City of London closes tonight.”

He leads me down the pier to the boat. I’d dressed for the river trip in black leggings, my Dr Marten rose embroidered boots, a thick woollen jumper and of course my fur hooded duffel coat. I know this sinister looking craft. It’s the M-46 Interceptor from the belly of the world’s biggest super yacht, the Platinum Demeter. Luckily the speed limit on the Thames through central London is 12 knots – that’s about 14 miles per hour. That’s fast enough on a cold day without shelter. I take a seat beside him while the other guy heads us out into the channel. Within minutes we’re passing under Lambeth Bridge and slipping past the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. Randolph is holding my hand, like I’m a girlfriend or something. Maybe a nervous mother. He called me to say he was in London, moored at Tower Bridge alongside HMS Belfast. He suggested lunch on board maybe running in to dinner with his partner Kaitlyn. The power boat slows as we pass the Tower of London on our left.  I see the elegant pure white Platinum Demeter ahead as the traffic passes to and fro across the world famous opening bridge. Our pilot eases the Interceptor into a water-filled hangar in the hull of the ship which is the size of a small ocean liner. Now this is wealth. He steps out and I take his arm. We pass through sliding glass doors into a warm atrium with elevator and pots of palm trees. In a corner a guy is playing a grand piano. The contrast with the cold wind and roar of the boat is astonishing. I feel like a farmer’s wife just stepped in from hand milking wild cattle on the hills. I need to blow my nose and probably reapply my whole face. We’d not really been able to converse during the journey.

“Randolph – I feel like …”

“I bet you don’t feel like you look,” he says, big smile, tousled hair from pulling off his balaclava.”

“You don’t know how I feel.”

“You look sexy fantastic and wild. You’re way too cool to admit to that.”

“Let’s form a committee around the wild. I think we can agree.”

“Hey – committees – that’s like group sex without the sex.”

“I’m writing about politics sex and power. Committee just popped out. I meant to say I need to adjust my presentation Randolph.”

He’d thrown the sex in to shock me. He doesn’t know me well enough. He knows I’m vain and attracted to him so he’s just being his normal persona of irritating arrogant multi billionaire sex god.

“Me too – Let’s head upstairs. Gin and tonic, wash and brush up. Perfect.”

His hand eases into my back. His touch makes me close my eyes. Does that happen to you girls? Makes me kind of feel I could just lie back and let him protect me. We stand in the elevator. He’s 6 feet three inches. I’m 5 feet four. He smiles. Down.

“Why don’t you ever look older Emma?”

“Cos you’re too vain to wear glasses.”

“Hey – you’re teasing me. Nothing worse than a woman who knows you.”

“Except a woman who doesn’t want to know you.”

“Yeah – lucky you came to save me from someone like that.”

“You can save yourself Randolph. First time we met you were giving a lovely girl a load of shit.”

“That was no girl – that was a mean cop on my case. That was something else.”

Suddenly his tone had changed. His mind had flicked to Kaitlyn, his lover and partner. He would joke and tease with me, but love was a serious business – even for the richest man in the world.

“How did it feel – to fall for a cop?”

“It felt good economics. She asked for nothing.”

I smile. Just for a moment I thought he was going to talk deeply about love. The elevator stops at his suite. Grand windows look out onto an open deck. The carpet is deep and luxurious beyond belief. This truly is the seduction of wealth. I want some answers before I give up and relax.

“Why her? Why a traffic cop who was giving you problems?”

“As soon as I saw her there was something. I wanted to keep my eyes on hers. It seemed natural and right. She locked me up but there were killers outside so I was cool about that. I was alone in a police cell. She was going off shift but she stayed on and made me a cup of tea. An act of kindness is an act of love, although not romantic love. All the same an act of love shows the heart.”

This was a strange man. Never had I come across a guy more serious and yet more flirtatious. I knew his father had been a petty crook, stabbed to death. I knew he’d come up hard in a dog-eat-dog environment in south London. To be frank, he’d said all he needed to say for now. He loved her at first and he loves her now. All I’d done is set them on a collision course. I needed to restore my status – or at least brush my hair.

“Did you say gin and tonic?”

Randolph went to a long unit stacked with bottles and glasses, all set behind rails in case of rough seas. It was a job to remember this was a globe-wandering vessel. It was like the Ritz.

“Sure tidy up. I’ll fix the drinks.”

I wander through to the marble bathroom and brush my hair in the back-lit mirror. I re-do my lips and check my look. Well, Randolph doesn’t think I ever look any older.

I go back to the salon and relax into the deep blue Mastrangelo velvet sofa. He smiles. His nautical dry suit is on the floor and he’s wearing pale ripped jeans and a grey Lonsdale work-out vest. His feet are bare, tanned and strong looking. He hands me a Square Mile English gin laced with Fever Tree tonic. It looks like a quadruple – it swallows like a shameful night of who gives a f**k lust. I feel pampered – and you know kind of squeezy in the thighs. He smiles again, lifts the intercom phone and seems to talk to the captain.

“William, I’ll tell them when to open Tower bridge, OK? There’s nothing more important to the City of London than Sackman-Platinum bank. No! We don’t wait in any lines because there’s no line we don’t own.”

“Some people would say you’re brash and arrogant,” I say as he slams down the receiver.

“Some of them would be right. I’m so happy you see through me to the sweet little boy inside.”

“Do I?”

“You’re here and giving me far too much beautiful soft blue eye contact if you don’t think I’m a sweet little boy. If you’re wrong and I’m like the sort of romantic hero you find irresistible you could have a problem. Not because of me – because of you.”

“You’re so bloody full of yourself Randolph.”

“Yeah – no one else fitted my clothes so I had to fill the gap. That Desmond Merrion stuff is too expensive to waste.”

The gin is working on my novelist’s similes. I’m looking at this incredibly wealthy sexy guy. He has charm, he has ruthless dominance over others. I get a sort of shudder – like a kind of shiver women get in those vampire books. No – Emma it’s not possible. He’s fixing me another gin. He leans in and kisses my cheeks.

“I was so rude. You’re more or less French and we didn’t kiss yet.”

I take a tiny sip and look shamelessly at those broad shoulders, those rock hard rowers’ triceps. Yeah, my blue eyes are following his deep brown eyes as they scan my sex, my breasts, my lips. My neck. Randolph Quinn is not normal OK. Fuck it Emma – you’re fifty blah blah. Get a grip.

“So you still work for Sackman-Platinum bank Randolph?” I say, taking a deep deep breath and forcing my eyes to his chest.

“Sure – the billions roll in. It’s a tough job but someone has to do it.”

“This bank – your bank, it has a certain reputation for …..”

“Money laundering and tax evasion.” He leans back in his chair and laughs towards the ceiling. Then his gaze snaps back to my sozzled eyes. “Emma, I love you but I can never square with you. You knew that the first day we met. I’m every bastard you can name but there is a longer game. A few people know the truth but you never will. You do not have the clearance. Things have moved on from you. That’s what happens in life.”

I’m fighting the gin and the groin twitches. I’m on top of the gin.

“OK, you run this bank. You have fabulous but mysterious wealth. Your lover is a straight regular cop? What the fuck Randolph? What does she know? You owe me that information since I hooked you two up.”

He’s leaning back in his chair. He’s looking at me, hands steepled under his chin, his thumbnail between his teeth. He speaks slowly.

“Kaitlyn knows everything and that’s all you’re ever going to know.”

His tone is deliberate and final. Maybe I believe him. Between you and me – I don’t. I absolutely fucking don’t. I decide to let sleeping dogs get pissed on gin. I ask him a muddled question from my erotic haze of a brain.

“What do you know about Ishtar?”

He smiles and nods with genuine personal warmth.

Ishtar“Ishtar is Kaitlyn. It’s the tattoo of a goddess on her arm. For years she’d felt that this Assyrian goddess defined her true soul and one day she had the courage to have her image tattooed on her arm.”

“Does it define her?”

“A couple of days later she met me so for sure that’s powerful juju.”

“You’re a big-headed man Randolph.”

“How else can a man compete with a goddess who is both war and peace, love sex and fertility and also both sexes? To round it off she has all knowing wisdom. OK – I’m still a winner over that stuff but it’s a tough fight every day.”

“I think you’re joking,” I say unable not to laugh at his little boy expression.

“Emma – don’t fret. I love Kaitlyn. She’s never asked me for anything other than honest love. She’s fought at my side, saved my life. That tattoo on her arm is there for her. It proclaimed herself to her. Nothing in this life can give you strength that’s not within but some ideas and some people reveal to you what is within you. No matter who you are there’s ten times more strength, determination and love within you than you ever thought. Kaitlyn found that inspiration in Ishtar. By having a monster tattoo on her arm she proclaimed that identity with an unstoppable voice. Then she had to follow.”

“You’re a psychologist Randolph.”

“You don’t get rich by not knowing what goes on in people’s heads Emma.”

“But it’s not all about being rich is it?”

No, of course not. Maybe I’ll sail south for the northern winter but hey, maybe I’ll go skiing for a few days. Maybe I’ll talk to the president of the USA about what I want on Chinese trade deals. Maybe I’ll tell your English prime minister what I want to do about this Brexit stuff. Nah – being rich doesn’t get you anywhere.”

I tossed back the rest of my gin. This man was right This man had unlimited wealth and power. This man had a wonderful honest woman in his life. For me I’d always have to know more. The jury is still out on sexy gorgeous Randolph Quinn. He loves to tease and tell me I’d feel differently about him if I knew what he knew. He knows he’s gorgeous and that wouldn’t be too easy for me to live with.

“If it were all about money you wouldn’t be wasting time chatting with a poor old woman like me,” I say, daring him with a raised eyebrow not to contradict me.

“Hey, Emma – we can fix the poor. Come down to the trading deck and I’ll fix you a Sackman Platinum loan of ten thousand pounds. Then I’ll look over your shoulder and you can place my trades in your name. You could have a million before lunch. We’re expecting a run on the Australian dollar but their central bank will step in to support the price. We’ll keep buying cheap as long as the dumb political suits are prepared to buy dear.”

I look at his face. He’s serious. He’s a smug bastard.

“With that sort of money I’d have no drive to get up and write books.”

“Hey Emma, you mean it’s all about money for you too? I always knew that deep down you’re just like me.”

I had to smile. Randolph Quinn always manages to have the last word.

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An author suffering for her art… the quest for authenticity takes a dive

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It’s time to check out another book in my steamy suspense romance series. The title is WEALTH. I’ll admit I had a ball with this. Our heroine Kaitlyn isn’t a greedy girl. She works shifts as a traffic cop, scrapes by for cash and still doesn’t really know who she is or what she wants. Then the storm hits her. The first wave is infinite sexual love with a fabulous man. The second wave is infinite money. The rest of the story is about enjoying both. Hey – I loved imagining and writing this story. I’ve not quite been the same since and it’s not because of money…..I’ll explain.

You guys know that I try to write about real places I’ve seen for myself. If it feels real to me I’m hoping that’s the way it comes off the page. I adore Paris, so I had to check out the little bistro in the Latin Quarter where a daring kidnap and shoot-out takes place.

Then the story heads for Italy. First up is the high fashion world of Milan and a hotbed of inter-mafia tensions. Just as I was wondering how to get there, my partner surprised me with a little trip. These days kids go through the routine of gap years and back-packing tours of the globe. Back then neither of us had the freedom or money to do that stuff. We went to work, paid the taxes and dreamed of a pensioner’s cruise – maybe. With a book to research why not join the back-pack trail and head off for Italy? The kids groaned and rolled eyes but what’s the use of parents if they don’t embarrass you? We set off by train to see Milan, Rome, Florence and Venice. What could possibly go wrong? What danger could there be in admiring the architecture of the fabulous rail station of Milan while waiting to catch the train to Rome?

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A DARING ADVENTURE ON THE ROOF OF MILAN CATHEDRAL – NO SLIP UPS HERE

There I was loaded with my unfamiliar heavy back-pack, wobbling along the uneven concrete forecourt. A pothole, probably left by Mussolini, seduced my foot and I crashed to the ground, trapped by my luggage. There was pain. I knew it was bad. My partner hauled me up and draped me on the hood of a taxi. We had a conference. Life is about choices: My partner made a sympathetic male patriarch type decision.

“I think you’ve broken your humerus. Generally they put you in a sling and tell you to smile through the pain. We’ve paid for an hotel and a very expensive Vatican tour tomorrow. We go on to Rome, buy a sling and maybe pray for divine intervention in St Peter’s. Then we see the sights. If you don’t cry and howl I’ll buy you an ice cream. Then we go to the hospital.”

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MEDECINE A LA MILANESE

And that is what we did. My arm was swollen and black. The X-Ray showed the break and the fragmentation of the ball joint. We bought a deluxe high fashion Italiano sling at a shop recommended by the hospital. My man bought me an ice cream. I smiled through the pain as we flew home without going on to Florence or Venice. The rest was one handed typing and physio. It took me at least six months to get back to anything like normal.

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SMILING THROUGH THE TEMPORARY SLING AT THE VATICAN

Far more importantly, I had seen the venues I wanted for Seduction of Wealth. At last I felt as if I had truly suffered for my art. Very soon I’m going to plan a story in Florence and Venice. I’ll be back.

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HMMM…. THUMBS UP? I GOT THE VENUES FOR MY SUSPENSE ROMANCE ‘WEALTH’!

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