This post originally appeared on Sweet n Sexy Divas, a fun collective blog run by the fabulous Tina Donahue where you can meet lots of romance writers. Check it out Here.
Arrgh! You’d think the merry, merry month of May would be a time of mild temperatures, sunshine, and lots of outdoor pursuits, right? Not in the Pacific Northwest. Temps in the 50s, windy, wet. Ugh. Perhaps I should be grateful, since the depressing weather only makes me more eager for our upcoming move to Las Vegas. I look forward to basking like a lizard.
Meanwhile, I’m plugging away at a very foodie romance. Diego is a bar chef prepping to open his food truck. His specialty: pan-Latin American empanadas, fusion empanadas, even breakfast and dessert empanadas! Needless to say, I’ve been cooking up some empanadas.
On a recent podcast interview, I told the hosts I have a small-business fetish. My romance stories have centered around a bookshop, a gelato shop, a cafe, a vintage clothing shop and a bar. Now a food truck! I love the way a small business brings together employees and customers to form a chosen family, one of my favorite tropes. And since most of those small businesses involve tasty food, I get to write another favorite trope: flirting over food. What could be sexier?
But before I share a sexy food snippet, let me share a big ol’ romance promo I’m participating in this week:
April showers bring May books! No purchase necessary, just follow the instructions to connect with new authors you’re going to love, including best sellers and award winners. And by doing so, so you’re entered to win a Vera Bradley Sling Backpack or an ebook prize pack. A great way to celebrate spring and get ready for beach reads! Enter here.
And let me share a couple of great bookish podcasts!
I had a marvelous time chatting about books and the writing life with Amanda and Cheryl. Check it out here.
And chatting with author Jeny Heckman was an absolute hoot! Read, listen, or watch here.
Finally, here’s a steamy, foodie snippet from Through the Red Door: Book Nirvana 1. Sexy professor Nick takes bookshop owner Clara to his favorite wine bar.
The balmy night air lifted Clara’s hair as they strolled the three blocks to the wine bar, a long, narrow building with a high stamped-tin ceiling. Inside, students and faculty from the university crammed around tiny tables. She followed Nick through the crowd to a low stage set up with a keyboard, an upright bass, and a microphone.
“This is us.” He pulled out her chair. “Carmen saved us a table. We’re lucky tonight. She doesn’t perform very often.”
The waitress brought them a bottle of Malbec, very rich and complex, and a wooden board with crusty sliced bread, a crock of creamy cheese, and a fan of thinly-sliced salami and prosciutto. Clara swirled her glass and sniffed the wine’s intoxicating perfume while she checked out their fellow music lovers. She’d never been to this place, never even heard of it. I’ve gotta get out more often. So many pleasures to taste, and she’d been holed up in her bookshop, ignoring them.
She took another sip of her wine, then set the glass down, promising herself to be more cautious after last night’s overindulgence.
She and Nick made comfortable small talk about their favorite non-sexy books while they waited for the show to begin. “I love corny 1950s space operas,” he confessed. “And those classic British mysteries.”
She smeared another slice of bread with cheese spread, then topped it with a sliver of prosciutto. “I have to admit, I never get tired of Miss Marple. Have you tried Wilkie Collins?”
Before he could answer, the stage lights rose, and a fiftyish woman in a slinky velvet sheath sashayed up to microphone. Her dark hair was arranged in a loose knot, and a large tropical blossom flamed behind her ear. Her accompanists were clad in black, which made her stand out all the more in her ruby-red dress. She leaned into the mic and breathed a sultry “Boa noite,” then nodded at Nick before beginning.
Carmen’s singing was like her dress: velvety, liquid, sultry. Clara’s store of Portuguese words didn’t extend much beyond “Good evening,” but the song’s meaning was clear, an invitation to enjoy life’s pleasures, to live, to love. Her hips shifted smoothly from side to side as she sang, and her flashing dark eyes focused above their heads as if her lover stood watching at the back of the room. This was a mature woman who’d known heartache and joy and was ready for more.
The music stirred Clara, but more gently than Nick’s sexy books had. Her eyes closed, she rested her chin on her hands and swayed to the music. On her back, Nick’s fingertips traced lazy circles, leaving a trail of whispery sensation.
Carmen began a new song, a sultry bossa nova. Nick’s fingers drifted upward until they brushed the hairs at the base of Clara’s neck. He left his hand there, gently kneading, and she leaned into his touch, its warmth and firmness melting her muscles like butter, liquid, yielding, flowing.
Through the Red Door is available from your favorite online bookseller. Get your copy here.
