Saturday, July 18, 2015

My Sexy Saturday: My Sexy Lady

This week’s theme is My Sexy Woman. Yes, this is our nod to the heroines. You all know what make them sexy and wonderful. Need we say more!

In honor of sending out Wild Hunt to Apex, I'm going a little off script. DJ Admire is probably my least sexy lady. But even she gets a shot at love.

Buy Link (and it's on sale for $3.99)

On the Nightside of Memphis, werewolves teach college, zombies load trucks and private investigator D. J. is hard at work, finding missing persons, solving cases and drinking herself into an early grave. Then Bran walks into her office, asking for her help in destroying the demon Oeilett, and everything changes.

Something about the battered, scarred combat mage ignites all the lusty feelings D. J. thought she had successfully drowned in rum. The mana he exudes weaves a web of desire over her, clouding thought and making the sultry summer even steamier.

Bran'’s body and face may be marked by his previous battles, but everything under the black leather kilt works perfectly, and D. J. learns there are more things in Memphis, the hellplanes and her own heart than she had ever imagined.

Your Seven Sexy Paragraphs:

I shed the vest and bandoliers and then sat on the bed to get out of the boots. Time to deal with the distraction.

I lay back on the lumpy, cheap bed and flipped my kilt up. There he stood, all awake and ready after the run-in with the lady detective. Even the sharp-tongued seer cop couldn’t intimidate him. She just reminded him even more of Admire. Our lady wanted us and I was pleased to see him paying tribute to her.

She weren’t a beauty, just plain looking. Plain was all right and she was plain as bread, the good solid kind my Ma made from oatmeal with ale-barm for leavening, the kind where a slice, toasted with a bit of jam, was just the thing on a cold day when the wind howled down from the hills and over the loch. Admire wanted me and that was plenty. I closed my eyes and thought about her.

I visualized her. The brown hair, caught into a short indifferent ponytail, the ragged cut as shaggy as an ungroomed Shetland, came easy. Her forehead, with its perpetual scowl line above her straight eyebrows, followed, and then her eyes, brown as that ale-barm with oddly long lashes that made them look softer than they were. Her frowning mouth, and all I wanted to do was kiss it until it smiled for me and quit snarling. That stubborn chin and straight pale neck. She saw as little sun as I did. I wondered how she would take having it kissed, or nibbled in that sweet spot just under the ear that makes some women squeal and yelp with delight.

Visualizing worked, almost too easily. There she was, plain as day, naked on that rumpled bed, sweating a little in the heat of her second-floor office.

Her eyes flew open and she stopped touching those pretty breasts of hers. Aye, they were perfect and I couldn’t wait to see them in person. Not huge and full, but a nice handful with deep-coral tips that were probably pink when she wasn’t playing with herself. “What the hell are you doing in my head, asshole?” she demanded.

“Thought we might cure some distraction together, lovely. You know how the magic works when it gets going between two of our sort.”

The Other Sexy People on the Hop: 

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