Welcome to another round of My Sexy Saturday, where authors offer seven words, sentences, or paragraphs from their work for your entertainment. Be sure to click on the graphic at the bottom of the page and visit the other participants.
Cassie’s hauled her dad’s prize horse from Chicago to Wyoming Downs to give her a win and hopefully return to Chicago with an altitude advantage – but she’s running into trouble, and that trouble is named Clint Travers. Here are today’s seven paragraphs, just after their second highly charged interaction.
Clint eased into his truck to head toward his motel. He would be eating alone again and then going over pedigrees or reading a novel. There were those connected with the track who partied hard every night. He wasn’t one of them. Apparently neither was the redhead.
What would she have done if he’d invited her to dinner? He pressed his lips together tightly. No doubt she would have given him a tongue lashing. Damn, she was a hard woman to get close to.
She had piqued his curiosity. It certainly was unusual to see a woman haul a horse halfway across the country to race. And a damn pretty woman at that. She had to have a lot of guts. He’d give her that.
He was looking forward to the big race. And he was looking forward to seeing how the big city tigress would handle victory or defeat.
He turned his truck toward Evanston. What would she do if he showed up at the café next to her motel around dinner time? It hadn’t been difficult to obtain that information from a secretary in the track office; they needed to know where folks stayed in town in case there was an emergency at the track.
He’d stay away from her, though he liked the way she blushed every time she got her dander up. Which seemed quite often.
Would she have as much fire in bed?
What happens when a fiercely loyal widowed half-Ute cowboy meets a fiery redhead with an Irish temper to match? Cassidy O’Hanlon – Cassie, to her friends – has set aside her Chicago career for six months to train racehorses for her dad after his stroke.
Furious the interloper has shipped in a ringer from the Chicago circuit to his Wyoming turf, Rancher/trainer Clint Travers sets out to put her in her place. Sparks fly immediately, but after their rocky start, the two quickly forge a passionate relationship, and he follows her to Chicago.
When it becomes clear someone is drugging Cassie’s horse, Clint sets out to solve the mystery, but storms off in a cloud of wounded pride when suspicions turn to him.
Can love trump pride?
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Amelia Jennings fights for a new life. All alone, after losing her brothers and father to the consequences of war, she evades an abusive relationship. She fears military men, dominant men, and especially men who like to fight for a living, just like her ex-boyfriend.
As she tries to adapt to her new life, she attempts to avoid her best friend’s brothers, who turn her on in a way she definitely isn’t used to. Mènage relationships are common, but these particular men scare her and remind her of the past she is trying to forget.
The Haas brothers, Murphy, Waylon, Brody, Ricky are tough, set in their ways, and now interested in their sister’s friend. Amelia is the only woman to get under their skin. She fights them tooth and nail, evades their every attempt at seduction, and makes them want things and feel things they never thought they would. They want her in their bed, and their claiming ownership. Standing in the way of happiness is her past, and one man who vows to get her back.
Amelia smiled then leaned back and closed her eyes. She started thinking about her new life here. The hospital was ten minutes from the condo and Regan said she spoke to Murphy about finding an apartment to rent near her new job. Of course Regan said she was fine with having Amelia stay with her for however long, but Amelia overheard Galen asking about sleeping over, and Regan denied him. Amelia didn’t want to stand in the way of her friend’s love life.
She crossed her legs and allowed the relaxing atmosphere to ease her mind.
She wasn’t too surprised that she thought of her brothers. Kyle and Edward. She really thought that she could have saved Kyle. But she learned that people have to have some bit of hope of desire to live, or else it was useless. Why couldn’t she have brothers like Regan did? As the thought hit her mind, she realized that she wouldn’t want them as brothers. She couldn’t even pretend to see them in that light or with that label. Seeing them as brothers was the farthest thing from her mind.
“How did you find one of the best spots on the ranch?”
Amelia jumped as she sat forward and looked behind her. The sudden sound of a man’s voice startled her.
“Oh God, Ricky, you scared me.”
She watched as Ricky walked around the bench and stared down at her. He kept one hand on his hip and holster. It was taking some getting used to, seeing so many people carrying firearms wherever they went. Back in New York, weapons were concealed, and usually carried by cops and thugs. Ricky was sporting a black gun, she had no clue what kind, because he looked so sexy.
“Didn’t mean to scare you, darling. You looked so lost in thought,” he said and she tried to look into his eyes, but the black Stetson he wore was low. It made him appear dangerous. She had the silly “butterflies in her stomach” sensation, and she wasn’t certain why.
“It’s so peaceful out here. You all must have loved growing up on the ranch,” she said as she pried her eyes off of the man and forced herself to look toward the two men getting down off the horses. Mad Dog.
She didn’t know who the other guy was. Her eyes zeroed in on Mad Dog and how his presence instantly magnified the atmosphere around them.
“It was the best way to grow up. Living off the land, working on the farm and in the fields. It’s very beautiful,” Ricky said as he held her gaze then lowered himself to the seat next to her.
She adjusted her position as his thick, hard thigh made contact with her bare one. Perhaps wearing pants would have been the better option today.
She looked up as Mad Dog and another young cowboy tipped their hats at her.
“Hi,” she replied.
“I’m Jonas. You must be Amelia, Regan’s friend.”
He reached his hand out and she accepted it as he held her gaze. This cowboy was much younger than Mad Dog and Ricky. His green eyes sparkled as he looked her thighs over.
“Nice to meet you, Jonas.”
“So what are you doing out here all alone?” Mad Dog asked and he sounded kind of pissed.
She looked over her shoulder toward the house, way in the distance and her belly tightened from his reprimanding tone.
“Regan just headed inside. I was enjoying the quietness.” Damn her shaky voice. Mad Dog Murphy was such a disciplinary man.
Mad Dog stared down at her. His dark blue eyes sparkled as his eyes roamed over her body. There was no denying it. Mad Dog and Ricky affected her. So she focused on Jonas.
“So, where are you staying? Has Regan given you a tour of town and some of the hot spots?” Jonas asked as he stood next to her. She decided to stand up, feeling the heat of Ricky’s thigh next to hers. As she stood, a light breeze collided against her skin, sending her long, black hair over her shoulders. Her skirt lifted slightly because of the flared bottom edge and she grabbed onto it to keep it in place. In doing so, she nearly lost her balance, her legs so shaky from having Mad Dog staring at her, watching her every move, and Ricky doing the same thing.
“Whoa,” Jonas said as he reached for her and steadied her by her waist.
“I’m okay. Thank you,” she said to Jonas who smiled down at her then released his hold and tipped his hat. “No problem, ma’am.”
“Jonas, want to take the horses back to the stable for us. We’ll call it a day. We should walk Amelia back up to the house,” Mad Dog stated firmly, surprising Jonas but also making Amelia jump from his commanding tone.
“It was nice meeting you Amelia. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
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…well, of course, in our erotic romance fiction, we make up lots of stuff.
But today I’m talking about those phrases you may have seen out there like sixty is the new forty, reverse the effects of aging, stay forever young, and the like. Pie in the sky? Nope, it’s true!
Of course we’re not going to actually stay young forever – but increasingly, there’s compelling evidence that certain healthy lifestyle habits do, in fact, reverse some of the effects of aging.
Earlier this week, NPR covered the most recent entry into this database. In a five year study authored by Dean Ornish, of heart-health fame, participants who engaged in a select group of healthy practices lengthened the telomeres on the ends of their chromosomes significantly, while the telomeres of the control group actually shortened.
It would take a lot of brain science to delve into a thorough understanding of telomeres and how they function, but here’s a short version: telomeres protect the dna within the chromosomes, and shorter telomeres are associated with shorter life span and an increase in many chronic diseases.
Prior to the present study, it’s not been known whether healthy living creates longer telomeres (and decreased susceptibility to disease), or whether people with longer telomeres simply have a healthier lifestyle, perhaps because they enjoy greater health. This exploratory study demonstrates in a small sample that the lifestyle differences can be causal.
So yes, sixty can be the new forty – or at least, in our sixties, we can still reverse some of the effects of aging through our habits. What habits? Ornish elaborated as follows:
A whole foods, low-fat, plant-based diet that’s also low in refined carbohydrate.
Walking for a half an hour a day.
Doing various stress management techniques, including yoga and meditation, for an hour a day.
Spending more time with their loved ones, including friends and family.
Apropos of all of the above, my husband and I went dancing last night. It’s part of what we love about being so close to Las Vegas, where great dance bands are easy to come by. We were fascinated by a highly energetic and broadly smiling elderly couple who hardly sat out a dance – fast or slow, western, rock and roll or hip-hop. I would have guessed their age to be early seventies, at most. A friend set us straight: both member of this couple are ninety years old. Not only that – where did they meet, after they’d each lost their spouse? They met at the gym, where they both still work out regularly.
That’s what I want to be when the time comes – ninety, vigorous, and happily dancing my feet off!