I have Flame Arden in my crib today and she's going to share a little about herself and Sweet Talk us. Oooh, sounds yummy. So let's get started and remember to give some love at the end. Take it away Flame. Sweet-Talk Me. Please.
I grew up in the deep South where honey
opens doors. Everyone sweet-talks, even total strangers. It's expected of them.
My California-raised granddaughter once relocated
to Augusta, Georgia. The first time she entered the local Walmart the greeter asked,
"You want a buggy, honey?" and,
unaccustomed to such familiarity, she almost walked out again. Within weeks, she
was calling everybody honey, too.
Collins Thesaurus of the English
Language - Complete and Unabridged 2nd
Edition. 2002 ©Harper Collins Publishers 1995, 2002 lists persuade, coax,
beguile, flatter, tempt, mislead, maneuver, seduce, entice, dupe, cajole, chat
up, wheedle, palaver, inveigle, soft-soap and blandish under sweet-talk.
Wow! No wonder a woman has second
thoughts when endearments flow off a man's tongue like water flows over a waterfall.
Without question, a single woman likes
to be flattered, chatted up, and sometimes even seduced. Just listen to the cacophony
of disparate voices raised in a singles bar.
The question is: How soon should your
characters' small talk turn to sweet-talk if you want the conversation to lead
to pillow-talk?
There are expected steps to take in a
seduction, like touching and holding the heroine's hand while respectfully murmuring
sweet nothings. He should complement the
heroine, make her laugh, and then capitalize on that intimate connection.
Nick St. Clair, the hero of Christmas Eve, released today by
Evernight Publishing, grew up in Texas, but sweet-talk does not come easy to
this wealthy Las Vegas businessman until he meets Eve Adohr. Something about
the innocent-looking woman he thinks is a call girl makes Nick want to care for
and protect her, feelings he's never before experienced, and calling her
sweetheart seems the most natural thing in the world. Small talk soon becomes
sweet-nothings whispered on the dance floor, then moves from sweet-talk to
pillow-talk behind closed doors, a natural progression Eve accepts to ease her
loneliness on Christmas Eve. Nick is smooth. Nick is suave, every woman's
fantasy and a true romantic to boot.
Here's
a blurb:
In
a blinding snowstorm on Christmas Eve,
the jaded owner of a posh Las Vegas casino mistakes the stranded real estate
agent at his door for the classy call girl he's expecting to heat up his
holiday.
Passions
ignite. Eve has learned men believe bedding her the most direct route to her
wealth. Nick's female companions always want the keys to his Ferrari and to his
safe deposit box, never to his heart, so he distrusts the entire lot and
expects to simply walk away unscathed when his brief time with Eve ends.
Neither
expects to give marriage a try, but hearts have a way of going where cautious
souls refuse, and after screwing their heads off for six days and nights Nick
and Eve discover without love their former lives were little more than empty
shells.
Finally.
Nick St. Clair took one last look around. Everything seemed in order. Don't let your irritation at your hired
date's tardiness show. She might have a reasonable excuse for being late.
Straightening the lapels of his hip-length
robe, he crossed to the door. Beneath the robe, black silk pajama pants
provided minimal warmth but kept him decent.
"I'm sorry to disturb you," the
statuesque woman on his porch said with a bright smile, "but I've done
something really stupid and wondered if you—"
"Don't just stand there." Nick
opened the door wider, anxious to see what his credit card had purchased this
time. "Come in."
"Thanks." After a slight
hesitation, the woman stepped gracefully inside. Ice crystals clung to the fine
wool scarf wrapped loosely around her neck, and to her stylish boots. She was
all bundled up in a long coat, but Nick's mind's eye had no difficulty
sketching what he hoped was hidden underneath.
The lady wore far too many clothes.
"I'm afraid my boots are wet." She
glanced first at him. His welcoming smile seemed to stun her. She stared at her
boots. "Where would you like me to stand?"
"By the fire." Nick indicated the
hearth. "You look frozen." Although in need of a woman, he had no
desire to bed an icicle. He wasn't that desperate.
Yet.
She crossed the room at a slow pace, her
fluid movements an aphrodisiac to him, although each tentative step left behind
a patch of melting ice. Sex-deprived man that he was, his living room suddenly
felt too warm. Things were looking up.
"I've been busy on the computer,"
he said, surprised by the sudden gruffness of his usually smooth voice. He
joined her before the fire. "I hadn't noticed it had begun to snow."
A soft-looking, hooded leather coat covered
her to her ankles. What lay beneath all those layers?
To his surprise, the unknown whetted his
appetite. "Here, let me help you out of that coat."
"No."
No?
Her response drew Nick up short.
"That won't be necessary," she
said, her sexy eyes wide. "I'll just keep it on, since I'm hoping we'll be
going right back out."
Out?
Was this some sort of sex game played to excite him?
"Problem is..." She paused, smiling
up at him, even daring to bat her eyes.
Unusual eyes, those. Emeralds, flecked with
gold, and about all Nick could see of his date at the moment. He found the
situation so damned erotic he began to sweat.
"... my car slid in the ditch next
door," she added, drawing his thoughts from what treasures her long coat
might hide. "I wouldn't bother you, but this mountain seems to be out of
my cell phone's service area and I wondered if I might use your phone to call
for a tow."
The dimple nestled in the satiny
cheek nearest Nick flirted with him as she spoke. Intriguing. Might as well play along. "Sure."
Flame Arden talks like a
well-bred Southern lady. Nothing could be further from the truth. She claims to
write sex scenes with squirm factor. You be the judge as she opens the boudoir
door to one-man, one-woman relationships and gives you a glimpse inside. A
happy and lasting marriage has prepared Flame to write sizzling love scenes,
and she doesn't disappoint.
Flame hangs out here:
You can download Christmas Eve here:
Or from your favorite eBook store
Cynthia Arsuaga
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