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I'm most recently a writer.  In the six plus decades of my life, I've been a wife, mother, grandmother, Jill of all trades though mistress of but a few, and most of the time pretty content with my lot.  As a much younger person, I believed I was called to write, but life and living distracted me for most of those decades.  An unwilling transplant from the South,  twenty years ago I unintentionally landed in the geographical center of the US.  Writing came about in part due to the unwillingness, I expect.  When caring for family, gardening, and renovating a century-old house failed to provide sufficient creative outlets, I turned to the one thing I always intended to do.  Eight titles later, I'm grateful I found myself while Lost in the Plains!

Saturday, August 2, 2014

Katie Lost and Found--Preview #6

Memories--finding Katie sent Peter's mind straight back to the time they shared. Even after so many years, the memories are fresh and sweet.

He’d fallen hard and fast, to the point that breaking his own rules, not to mention those of his employer, seemed more than worth the risk. By the time they reached Paris, he was scheming to lure her to his room, where he prayed she’d let down her hair, literally—that braid was driving him crazy with its teasing curls—and join him in his fantasies. As fate would have it, they were housed in separate hotels. The only time they saw each other was on the tour bus taking them around the city. Still, he made his move, slipping her his room number on a note suggesting they spend their one free afternoon together. “I dream of being with you, Katie. Will you make my dreams come true?” 

 Peter winced at the memory of that note. Had he ever been so young? And had the woman he’d just encountered really been the object of his reckless obsession? Rising, he went to the window in hopes of catching sight of her again. In his memory of Katie, her body had been soft and inviting, full breasts and rounded hips. The curves were still there, although she was thinner, but there was a strength about her that felt unyielding in his arms. He found himself wanting to explore this woman much as he had the girl he’d first made love to in Paris.
Katie had indeed shown up at his door that day, his note tucked in the pocket of her shirt. The afternoon was dull and rainy. At the sight of her, hair glistening with raindrops, her clothes damp and clinging, he’d forgotten to play the smooth seducer. Sweeping her into his arms, he’d swung her in a tight circle within the little room.
“I was praying you’d come!”
In his exhilaration, he’d moved too fast. By the time the second button of her shirt was undone, so was Katie. Squirming out of his embrace, she’d shoved him hard, hissing “What are you doing? You invited me here to. . .to. . .what? Attack me?”
“No! Oh, no, liefje. I invited you here to love you!” Stepping back, hands raised in surrender, he was terrified of what might come next. While losing his job would be catastrophic, having Katie angry with him for the duration of the tour would be almost as bad.
But Katie seemed pacified. “Well, that’s different I guess.” Advancing on him, she’d given him another shove, sending him sprawling across the narrow bed. “But first we’re going to talk.”
Their talk began with the details of his sexual history. When she was satisfied that he had adequate experience, she made her own disclosures. She was not a virgin, she wanted him to know, but she’d only been with two boys who hadn’t convinced her sex was worth the trouble. She was counting on him to prove otherwise. Furthermore, she wanted him to explain exactly what he was going to do, so there wouldn’t be any surprises.
“You want me to describe what I’m going to do before I do it?” Ever so subtly, he started unbraiding her hair, pretending a calm he was far from feeling.
“That would be the best way, don’t you think?”
“I suppose. What if you want me to stop? Will you tell me, liefje?” He spread her loosened hair around her shoulders, running his fingers through the heavy waves.
The motion seemed to relax her. Resting her head on his shoulder, she sighed. “Of course. What does that mean, what you keep calling me?”
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he answered, “Sweetheart, liefje. And what will you be doing while I’m describing each step?” His hand moved to her shoulders, stroking slow circles down her back, confirming his suspicions that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“I don’t know. What should I be doing?” She raised her head, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire as they met his.
“Whatever you like.” Drawing her into his arms, he chuckled. “And I won’t need any warning, unless you’re planning to shove me again.”

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