While I may not be at the keyboard as often as I would like, I'm often thinking about stories that I'm working on or ones to add to my list. Recently I put the finishing touches on "Why 319?" my serial killer mystery. I've reached out to a new publisher with a query last week. Now it's hurry up and wait for a reaction.
Meanwhile, I was able to dust off a work in progress or WIP as some call it. I just cleared 150 pages on the next story in Jamie Richmond series. Along the way, I stumbled upon what I think is the perfect title: "Fleeing Beauty". The main story line is that Jamie's father, Peter, who died when she was young, left behind a storeroom filled with his sculptures. While the public and the art world is clamoring to see what's in the crates, Jamie takes this as an opportunity to learn more about her biological father. The title comes from one of the sculptures Peter had done, a life-size bronze of a beautiful woman, running away, tendrils of hair streaming behind her.
It wouldn't be a Jamie story without some conflicts and some passionate exchanges with Malone. So since the whole country is suffering from cold temperatures, below is a steamy excerpt that might help us all get through this winter. I hope you enjoy it.
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The rest of the morning and early afternoon flew by,
but I was pleased with the progress we’d made. Malone was scheduled for work at
three, so we grabbed some carryout pizza and headed for home. Maybe it was a
combination of things, but my nervous state was gone. Working with Malone must
have helped. Taking the first step to uncovering the past was probably part of
it. Malone ducked into the bathroom for a shower before work while I wrapped up
the leftover pizza. Reflecting on his actions earlier brought my own wicked
smile into play.
Shedding
my clothes, I stepped into the shower stall behind him. Malone was lathering up
his chest and arms when he realized I was there.
“I don’t
have much time, Jay.”
I pressed
my body against his back. “Nonsense. There’s always enough time.”
Taking the
soap from the rack, I worked up a thick lather in my hands. Before he could
stop me, I reached around and took him in both hands. My guess was right. He
was instantly hard. A groan escaped him.
“Jamie,
you’re incorrigible.”
“I just
want to make sure you’re relaxed before you go to work, Leon.” My hands were
pumping steadily now. I pressed my body tightly against his back. The hot water
sprayed from the shower head, beating down on me. I shook the water from my
face.
Malone’s
breath was rasping. He pressed both palms to the shower wall and held himself
still. My hands were moving faster. I ground my body against his, wiggling my
hips.
He tipped
his head back. Keeping his left hand braced on the wall, he reached his right
hand around and clutched my ass. My hands churned faster. Malone let out
another groan. I felt his body shudder as he peaked. My body trembled as my
hands slowed their work.
“I’ve
unleashed a monster,” Malone said turning to face me.
“Hey, that
was going to be my line.”
