If you want a chance to win Lori Wilde’s Love at First Sight, the contest closes tonight at midnight. So don’t delay–leave a comment on Friday’s blog (and enter via the Rafflecopter widget–it’s easy, honest!) for your chance to win!
I’ll announce the winner tomorrow (Tuesday) morning… Good luck!
A lot of the fun in my favorite romances is the pursuit–one trying to convince the other to give them a chance, be it the hero or the heroine. (Or in the Toni Blake story I’m currently reading, trying to convince themselves.) One of my favorite scenes is where Sam is trying to convince Rosie to give him a chance…
Personal Protection
Copyright © 2009 by Leah Braemel
The next night Sam didn’t appear for their usual research session. Instead he bypassed their door and headed straight to his apartment. Andy gave her a shrug and trailed him while Scott ducked into their apartment. Ten minutes later Scott sat across from Rosie, burying himself in the files piled on the dining room table.
Dark circles ringed his eyes—evidence of the nightmares he denied having but they all heard every night. Not a surprise. After Sam’s cryptic comment, she’d read Scott’s file. He’d spent three months as a hostage of some obscure group in Colombia, escaping through hostile terrain with tales of brutality that had everyone worried about those left in the camp. When he’d been cleared medically, Troy and Sam had both tried to convince him to take some time off, he’d refused and so ended up on her team.
For the next hour, she and Scott slogged through more of the Hauberk client files, while Kris finished going through the Security Guard files.
She placed the last of her current pile on the table and rubbed the back of her neck against the ache that was forming. “I’m not finding anything. How about you?”
“Nothing concrete.” Kris picked up the list he’d made. “Got a few trainees who might be bitter because they washed out the Protection Agency program and ended up guarding buildings. And there are a couple who got fired who might qualify but from what I’ve seen of their write-ups they couldn’t find their dicks with a magnifying glass.”
“Guess that makes you a suspect, too,” Scott said with a grin. “I found a few possibles in the client files, but one’s left the country, one’s dead, and the other hired some hot shot firm out in California to guard them. So I can’t see they’re viable suspects.”
Before she could reply, Rosie’s Berry chirped with a familiar double tone announcing a text message had arrived. Sam.
Table 4 2 set in 1201
She shook her head and went back to the list of employees working for the Security Guard division. Five minutes later, her Berry chimed again.
Chicken Creole.
“Is there a problem?” Scott asked.
“No, it’s just Sam wants me to eat at his place tonight.”
Kris, who had buried himself in yet another folder, looked up with a hopeful expression on his face. “What’s he cooking?”
When she told him, he closed the file. “Hey, if you don’t want it, I’ll go. I’ve got dibs.”
“Be my guest—”
Before she could finish, Kris dashed to the front door and slammed it behind him.
A minute later, her Berry chimed again.
Not Kris. You. On the heels of that message came another. Clothing optional. 
Sheesh! That one didn’t even warrant a reply.in.
The front door opened and Andy stomped in, obviously grumpy as Kris trailed him. “Sam says to get your butt over there before the champagne goes flat.”
“Champagne, as if,” she muttered. “He doesn’t have any. All he has is Heineken.”
“Yeah, he does,” Scott said. “He asked me to pick up a couple bottles of Dom Perignon this afternoon.”
“Kris, why don’t you go into the kitchen and toss one of those frozen cannellonis Rosie bought into the oven. Scott…” Andy paused. “Shoot, just leave us alone, will you? I want to have a private word with Rosie.”
Some sort of unspoken communication passed between the two men. Scott nodded and headed to his bedroom as her Berry rang again.
Apple Crumble & French vanilla ice cream 4 dessert.
What had he done? Called her mother to find out her favorite dessert? And vanilla ice cream, how ironic. If ice cream was a metaphor for sex, vanilla certainly described her love life lately. She had a feeling Sam’s would be Rocky Road.
“When are you going to admit there’s something between you two?” Andy asked quietly.
“You know the rules say operatives can’t get romantically involved with their principals.”
“Oh, screw the rules.” He groaned as he flopped onto the couch. “Come on, Rosie, you gotta give the rest of us poor shlubs some hope.”
“I’m not willing to risk my job for a couple of nights of…” mindblowing sex, but she wasn’t about to say that, “…fun. Because at some point it’ll end and I’ll be out of a job.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Or you could end up Mrs. Rosie Watson, mother of 2.4 kids and part owner of Hauberk. You’re using the job as a shield, Rosie. Since when did you sprout a yellow stripe on your back?”
“It’s just…” She rubbed her face with her hands. Day by day, hour by hour, Sam had been chinking away at her armor until the barriers she’d thrown up were tissue-paper thin. “It’s just Sam’s so…Sam, you know?”
“Larger than life? I thought women liked that type.” He leaned back, sprawling his legs wide, his arms stretched along the back of the couch. “You’re not usually a coward, so what’s the problem?”
“He’s…he’s not like any other man I’ve ever dated before,” she said slowly. He makes me feel things with an intensity I’ve never felt before. He makes me want to do things with him, to him, for him I’ve never considered with another man.
Whenever she felt any of her other lovers gaining any modicum of control over her, her claws came out and they ended up running away with their tails between their legs. But for some reason she couldn’t fathom, all her need for control fled around Sam.
“Can’t say I know many people like him, so that makes sense.” He rubbed his thumbs across his eyes. “I have to be honest, Sam’s got his kinky side, but I don’t think he’d ever ask you to do something you weren’t willing to do. He’s not a big bad wolf who’s going to tear you apart. Besides I get the feeling you could wrap him around your little finger if you tried.”
What the hell did Sam’s got his kinky side mean? But before she could ask, he eyed her suspiciously. “You haven’t got some hang up about sex, have you?”
She plopped onto the couch beside him, her legs unable to support her. Her face felt like someone had just set a flamethrower to it. “No. It’s not about sex.”
No, sex with Sam Watson would be off the charts of the Incredible Scale. Look at the orgasm he’d given her with only his tongue and fingers. Her pussy started creaming just at the thought of his cock filling into her.
“The action, dialog, characters, and plot were all so well written that I found myself completely immersed.” ~ 5 stars & a “Creme de la Creme” pick! Slick, Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews
With her as dessert.
Trouble was, now she didn’t know if she’d simply become a challenge to be conquered. A rose to be pruned, enjoyed until the blossom faded, and then tossed aside and replaced with a new flower. She buried her face in her hands. “It’s not just dinner. It’s more than that.” It’s my whole life. My job. My home. My heart.
“You have a chance at love and you’re kicking it away like it’s an old tin can when the rest of us…” Andy trailed off. “Well, the some of us have it yanked from us, you know? And we’d give anything to grab it and hold onto it.”
She grabbed the only lifeline she could find. “I don’t know.”
Andy pushed himself to a stand. “Just think of it as your downtime. Pretend you went to bed early and let me look after things here. The place is secure—nothing’s going to happen. If someone wanted to take a pot shot at him, it’ll be somewhere public. Otherwise they’d have already gotten to him.”
“But it’s my—”
He pulled her to her feet and marched her to the door. “Go have dinner with Sam, Rosie. And if you two don’t hit it off, come back here.”
Her Berry beeped again. Trust me. Please.
It was the please that unraveled all her arguments, that had her walking down the hallway.
Just as she lifted her hand to knock, the door opened and Sam stood there, filling the doorway.
“About that accord…” she whispered.
Order it in Print
Don’t forget to visit the other Snippet Saturday participants:
Myla Jackson
Lauren Dane
Caris Roane
Eliza Gayle
Mandy M. Roth
McKenna Jeffries
http://shilohwalker.com/website
Taige Crenshaw
Delilah Devlin
HelenKay Dimon
Felicity Heaton
While RAGT is a chance for me to get to meet my readers, and meet new ones, and for me to play fangirl and get to meet my favorite authors (because, hey, I’m a reader too), it is also a chance for me to talk with other authors and catch up on what’s going on in the industry. It gives me a chance to compare our writing processes which makes me feel better knowing I’m not the only one who sometimes feels like “all I write is crap” and needs that little push in the right direction.
The authors I’ve met at RAGT are all super. They’re upbeat, they’re helpful, they’re supportive of everyone else, no matter whether they’re a big name author like previous attendees Jade Lee or Beth Kery or a newly published author with a smaller press…and they’re that way not only to readers but to other authors no matter where we are in our careers. (It’s one reason why I love the romance industry—I’ve been a member of a literary group and OMG such a different attitude.)
This year I had the good fortune to meet author Lori Wilde. I’d seen her around at last year’s RAGT – she’d sat at our breakfast table but she was at the far end away from me and I never got to actually talk to her. This year she sat right across from me and amongst other topics, naturally we talked about the writing process. I mentioned I had been struggling for a while with my writing. That I felt like I knew the basics enough to get published but there was something I was missing to take my writing to the next level. Lori said it’s normal to reach that point about every ten books. Which means I’m right on schedule.
During the book signing, she popped over to say she’d bought one of my books and had some suggestions of how to take that leap—could we get together later in the evening? Talk about jaw-dropping. Lori Wilde had bought one of my books? And read some of it? Cue fear mixed with excitement.
So after the Carina Press Pictionary game that night, I met with her once again in a quiet corner of the restaurant. We talked deep POV and themes and motifs for over an hour, maybe longer. Some of the things I’ve already been doing innately, but she’s shown me how to take those themes and points of view to the next level. She even gave me four pages of notes she’d written out so I could take them home and study them. She gave me that push I needed.
She was all that is gracious and I wanted to do one of those Wayne’s World “We’re not worthy” bows to her at the end. 
Now it’s up to me to put her advice into action and whip my manuscripts into shape.
So to thank her for taking the time out of her busy schedule to help a struggling and fledgling author, I’m going to give away a paperback copy of Love at First Sight, the first in Lori’s new contemporary western series with Avon.
In the first in a dazzling new series, Lori Wilde welcomes us to Cupid, Texas, where every wish for love comes true . . .
“When it hits, you just know . . .”
Natalie McCleary couldn’t believe her eyes—a lean-muscled, darkly tanned, nearly naked man stood in her path . . . and then it hit her: love. Everyone always told her it would hit like a thunderbolt, and she never believed them. But now she knew: practical, sensible Natalie was head over heels in love—with a stranger.
But ex-Navy SEAL Dade Vega wasn’t about to be a stranger for long. He’d ridden into Cupid on his motorcycle, vowing to keep a promise he’d made to a military buddy. But a single glimpse of Natalie—soaking wet and unexpectedly tempting—changed his life forever.
But how can he offer her his love, when he can’t even promise to stay in one place for longer than a week?
Leave a comment telling me if you’ve ever met someone who has taken the time out of their busy life to give you advice that’s helped you. Or some other way someone has paid it forward.
(You must leave a comment to be eligible, but you can also like Lori’s FB page, or mine, to earn extra entries. Contest closes Tuesday, June 18th at 12 AM — for those of you like me who have trouble figuring out when that is, in other words between Monday and Tuesday morning. I’ll announce the winner Tuesday morning.)
So much went on at this year’s RAGT, I don’t even know where to start. To which my brain chimes in “at the beginning, dumba$$.” Which means the 9 hour ride from just east of Toronto starting at 5:30 a.m. with fellow author Anara Bella and reviewer Mary G the day before the event started. We usually get together for lunches that last into the dinner hour, so you can imagine that we talked non-stop the whole way down.
Image credit: inbj / 123RF Stock Photo
Well, except for the 45 minutes we spent at the US border when a border guard decided Anara’s trading cards were cause for concern. For those who have never driven across the US-Canadian border, it’s like going through a toll booth initially. You take off your glasses, hand over your passports and answer questions about where you’re going, how long you plan to stay, and why you’re going. (Along with questions about if you’re bringing in any fruits or vegetables.)
The first guard didn’t seem to understand why anyone would want to go to a book conference to discuss books. Then he got Anara to pop her trunk and discovered her trading cards. Since they had a tag line on them, he figured she would be…I don’t know, selling them like baseball cards I guess. Which led to him flagging us for investigation. Which meant pulling up to another building where they had us empty our purses of everything, took away any electronics (I’m assuming they were worried we might use a cell phone to explode a bomb? Which given the environment these days, I totally understand and had no objections to.)
We faced more questions about what RAGT was and had to explain who Lori Foster was, and why we were going–they couldn’t seem to understand that we wouldn’t be setting up a booth. While we were answering the second guy’s questions, other agents were pulling our suitcases apart, and poking through the gift basket Anara and I had put together for the raffle that raised money for One Way Farm Children’s Home (the raffle donations raised $13,000 by the way.) So while we’re alternating between being grilled and waiting for them to make a decision, I’m sitting there wondering what we’ll do if they let Mary and I go through but turn Anara back, or vice versa.
The second customs agent–who was a Hotty McHot who could totally be a hero in a romance book, especially with the little bit of scruffy beard–disappeared for a while and then came back and displayed a sense of humor the first guard completely lacked. He told us he’d read the back of the copy of Northern Heat: Best Canadian Erotic Romance Stories and asked which of us was the millionaire. I wish! He also called in the first guard and questioned him about just why he’d flagged us. (I’m thinking he did it loud enough so we’d hear and understand that he thought the first guy was off-base too.) And then he let us go.
Phew! Unfortunately, they forgot to mention that in pulling out our suitcase, they’d scratched Anara’s new car. Ah well. Fodder to use in a book somewhere.
Things got WAY better after that. We arrived at the Marriott and they put us in rooms reasonably close together, and as usual we headed down to the restaurant. The first year we went, we were so hungry when we arrived we agreed to meet up at the restaurant after we’d dumped our bags in our room. Mary had been hoping to run into Cheryl Brooks but hadn’t arranged where or when. While we were sitting in the restaurant, there was a woman sitting beside us, eating all alone, and Mary realized it was Cheryl. We pulled her over to our table, and that’s become a tradition every year – that’s how we met Vicky Dreiling last year. Our table of four generally ends up sprawling into a table of twelve or more. And the numbers swell and ebb as people leave to go to their appointments and then are replaced as new friends arrive. It’s turned into a great way to meet people.
The same thing happens at the main events in the ball room too. That’s how I ended up meeting Desiree Holt and Virginia Nelson this year. (Jade Lee, Beth Kery, Marie Force in previous years.) I love how RAGT lets the authors mingle with the readers–and since I’m a reader as well as an author, I appreciated having the opportunity to table hop and meet my fave authors like Lorelei James too.
But mainly it’s all about meeting the readers. Last year I sat with Joni whom I knew from FB, and she introduced me to Margie who is now on my street team, and Margie introduced me to the Book Obsessed Chicks, and so on and so on. It’s kind of like that old “and they told two friends, and they told two friends” commercial. So this year wherever I walked, I heard my name being called out by old friends. It made me feel like a rockstar.
RAGT started a day earlier than normal this year–with a dance and some games, including one that challenged participants to match authors up with pictures of their pets. I was surprised to see a photo of Seamus and Turtle up on the board. (If anyone attending got a photo of the boards, can you email me or contact me on FB–I’d love to have a copy.)
Friday morning, I took the members of my Street Team who were there out to breakfast, along with a couple of other new friends – Sarah (whom we hope to convert to being a Braemel Brigade member), and Sharon (whom you may know as Slick Reads from Guilty Pleasures) From left to right it’s Lori M, Margie M.H., Slick Reads, Sarah, me, and Lisa B.
Friday afternoon was the digital book signing. Which is one I’ll never forget–hey, any time someone comes up with one of my books they’ve brought from home and asks me to sign it is unforgettable. I have to admit, I suck at coming up with those witty lines above my signature. No different from when I’m signing birthday or get well cards. I hope none of my fans are disappointed at what I wrote, or shocked (I got risque on a few RAGT first-time attendees books 
) Saturday’s signing was just as fun–and challenging coming up with those witty one-line dedications.
For the first time, I had some buttons made up — for my Brigade members to wear, but also Hauberk Protection buttons, and one for almost all my heroes. I was pleasantly surprised to discover people snatching them up and it became a private game to spy them on other people’s lanyards. The Hauberk buttons were the most popular, followed closely by the I ♥ Sam buttons. Though I ran out of I ♥ Chad buttons first (mainly because I’d had twice the number of Sam buttons made up since he’s the most popular of all my heroes.)
Saturday night’s Carina Press Pictionary game was a hoot as always–I’m going to see if I can get some of the photos Mary took of the hints that were drawn to see if you can guess the word(s). As I did last year, by the time the game ended, my already-hoarse voice was strained to the limit, but I had a grin a mile-wide from the fun we’d had. And many of the other sponsors had fun games too — like the “cup” game Author Island had in the ballroom Saturday night.
RAGT gives me such an opportunity to meet so many people–I named some yesterday, but I wanted to acknowledge more today: authors like Jayne Rylon, Lissa Matthews, Robyn Bachar, Drea Becraft, Maddie Barone, Macy Beckett, Dee Carney, Alannah Lynne, Janice Maynard, Jeffe (pronounced Jeffey, but please, no Y) Kennedy, Linda McMaken, Hildie McQueen, Monica Burns, Jodie Redford, Keri Stevens (who injured herself on the treadmill and declared ‘exercise kills’), Tatum Throne (really Tatum, submit to Carina! Rhonda meant it when she gave you her card), Beth Williamson, and for a moment Wendi Zwaduk (sorry I didn’t get to spend more time talking with you, Wendi). And also Kendra Egert (the cover artist who designed Private Deceptions’ cover), Diana Neartrour, Amelia Durbin, Jodi Anderson, Valerie Cozart, Alannah Lynne, Kim Rocha of Book Obsessed Chicks, Kim Killion of Hot Damn Designs and the Killion Group, not to mention all the Samhain and Carina folks. I know I’ve forgotten others, and I apologize if I’ve left you off the list.
I also met dozens of readers — you are what made the event for me, whether you stopped by and said hi at the signings or sat with me at the dinner tables and threatened to take my cowboy hat.
There is one very special lady I finally got to chat with this year–she joined us for breakfast last year, but since I was at the far end I never managed to actually talk to her. Boy I wish I had had the chance because she is something special. She is one of the reasons I will always remember this year’s RAGT and rate it the best…but that’s for tomorrow’s post.
Note: I apologize if there are any typos but I am writing this one-handed. Turtle has been a little clingy since I returned and has claimed my right arm/hand as his bed. He looks so cute I don’t want to disturb him.