I wonder whether other erotic romance authors share their work with their dads. Do you?
I was 15 when my dad died (yes, that makes me 37). I've lived more than half my life without his physical presence. I know he is still around, though. I hear him in my head when I get angry and want to cuss a good one like he did. I see him in the way my feet turn out, like his did, when I walk . I feel him in my family room sitting with me when I toast a beer to him on Sunday while I watch our favorite team, the Chicago Bears (usually losing). And his memory is carried forward in my children who never met Grandpa Jack, but can talk about him as if they had.
I love you, Dad.
And I wish you were here to celebrate my writing with me. I know you'd enjoy my latest story, The Christmas Present, as long as you thought someone else had written it!
Excerpt from The Christmas Present
“Damn, their flight’s delayed.” Amanda turned away from the monitor in the baggage claim area to face her husband, Tom. “I can’t wait any more. These last seven months have been killing me.”
“Thanks a lot. I thought I was doing a good job helping you pass the time,” Tom said, loosening the knit scarf from around his neck and unzipping his parka.
Amanda grinned. “Oh baby, you have, but I’m going to explode if I don’t do something with this bundle of nerves curling through me.”
“I know how to take care of that.” Tom grabbed her by the hand and led her to the family bathroom next to the men’s and women’s restrooms.
“But we don’t have any kids,” she protested when Tom opened the door for her.
He shot her a look. “Are you really going to let that stop you?”
She shook her head and walked into the bathroom, hearing the lock click behind her. It wasn’t going to take much for her to reach an orgasm. Her panties had been damp all day in anticipation of being with Mark and Sabrina again, the sexy British couple they’d met while on vacation in the Canary Islands last May.
Tom reached around her, sliding his warm hand across her flat stomach and down the inside of her jeans. His fingers tickled her curls on the way to her clit. Her knees weakened as he trailed kisses down the side of her neck, and she leant back against him. “Oh yes,” she said as she unfastened the button on her jeans and pulled down the zipper.
When she started to push her pants over her hips, he growled softly in her ear. “Did I tell you to take off your pants?”
Feeling a new rush of wetness between her legs, Amanda shook her head.
“Please?” she asked.
“No. We’re not going to fill that hole of yours until our friends get here. I want you to really enjoy your Christmas present, and waiting is half the fun.”
She groaned and wiggled against his soft touch on her clit. “I thought you said you were going to help me.”
“I’ll let you have a little something to take the edge off.”
“Or keep me wanting more.”
“Exactly,” he said.
Best wishes for a happy holiday season with your family and loved ones!
Visit me at suzannegraham.blogspot.com