Well it’s official.  I have a new book.  I’ve been so busy with writing it I’ve been remiss in updating my blog.  All I can say is summers are wonderful for my output.  This story is a departure for me though, it’s contemporary and set right at the time of the London Olympics.  The heroine is American and the hero is British…and a bit racier than you have seen from me in the past.  And I will tell you that I have loved every moment of writing it.  So much so that there are two more books to follow this one in a three book series called The Blackstone Affair.  Below is a first teaser for you to enjoy:

August 2012

~~EXCERPT~~

“Very bad idea, Brynne.  Don’t risk it.  Let me give you a ride.”

I froze on the street.  I knew who was speaking to me without ever hearing his voice before.  I turned slowly to face the same eyes that had burned me back at the gallery.  “I don’t know you at all,” I told him.

He smiled at me, his lip turning up more on one side than the other of his goateed mouth.  He pointed to his car at the curb, a very sleek looking black Range Rover HSE.  The kind that only Brits with money can ever afford.  Not that he didn’t reek of money before, but he was way out of my league.

I swallowed hard in my throat.  Those eyes of his were blue, very clear and deep. “Yet you call me by name…and expect me to get in a car with you?  Are you crazy?”

He walked toward me and extended his hand.  “Ethan Blackstone.”

I stared at his hand, so finely elegant with the white cuff framing the grey sleeve of his designer jacket.  “How do you even know my name?”

“I just bought a work entitled Brynne’s Repose from the Andersen Gallery for a nice sum not fifteen minutes ago.   And I’m fairly sure I’m not mentally impaired.  Sounds more PC than ‘crazy’ don’t you think?”  He kept his hand out.

I met his hand and he took mine.  Oh did he ever.  Or maybe I’d lost my mind shaking hands with the stranger who’d just purchased a huge canvas of my naked body.  Ethan’s grip was firm.  And hot.  Had I imagined he pulled me a little closer toward him?  Or maybe I was the crazy one, because my feet hadn’t moved an inch.  Those blue eyes were closer to me than they were a moment ago though, and I could smell his cologne.  Something so gawd awfully delicious it was sinful to smell that good and be human.  “Brynne Bennett,” I said.

He let go of my hand.  “And now we know each other,” he said, pointing first at me and then to himself.  “Brynne, Ethan.”  He looked over at his Rover.  “Now will you let me take you home?”

I swallowed again.  “Why do you care so much?”

“Because I don’t want anything to happen to you?  Because those pretty shoes look lovely at the end of your legs but will be hell to walk in?  Because it’s dangerous for a woman alone at night?  Especially one as beautiful as you.”  His mouth turned up just slightly on the one side again.  “So many reasons, Miss Bennett.”