The Pit and the Passion

She held her gaze steady, mainly so she could delve deep, deep into those chocolate eyes. Together with his sharp, angular nose and intense, almost predatory, expression, he reminded her of a peregrine falcon on the hunt.

The Pit & the Passion

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Welcome to the Cuddle Up to a Romance Blog Hop. No Snoring Please!

Let’s cuddle up with my new romance from Secret Cravings, Lapses of Memory. Here’s the story:

Lapses of Memory, my May 10 release, is a story within a story, in which Sydney Bellek relates the story of her life to her daughter Olivia.  Every few years from the age of five Sydney meets her true love Elian Davies, but while he remembers her, she doesn’t recognize him. Only after surviving wars, revolutions, and years of separation does she realize they are meant to be, but this time it is Elian who has lost his memory of her. While Olivia chronicles the ups and downs of her parents’ romance she must also deal with her own dilemma, choosing between the rich and dashing Rémy de Beaumec, who wants to take her around the world, and the strong, silent, American-to-the-core, Benjamin Knox, who wants to make her happy. 

EXCERPT (PG): The Lady Doesn’t Remember
Several beers later they wobbled out to the lobby holding hands. Sydney had learned enough to know this Elian was a complex person and really, really cute. When they reached her room he backed her against the door. She could feel his penis throbbing through his jeans and took a minute to revel in the desire the friction ignited before pushing him away. He set his arms on either side of her, and regarded her with serious eyes. “You still don’t remember me, do you?”
She shook her head. She didn’t really want to recognize him. Placing him in some other context could only be deflating. She liked him now, a tall, thin, russet-haired man with a pulsing member and inviting mouth, currently blowing a tidal wave of pheromones in her direction.
He continued to stand there, making none of the moves she wished he’d make. Finally she took a step toward him and held out her lips. Leaning in, he took them with his. The link pulled the rest of their bodies together. Arms went around waist and neck, bellies ground against each other, thighs intertwined. Sydney fell into a long, dark, winding tunnel that squeezed her, taking her breath away. She no longer felt corporeal, but more like a soft piece of quivering tissue, the bones dissolving, reduced finally to a pool of liquid heat.
He broke away, panting. “Now do you remember me?”
Her arms empty, she tried blinking to drag herself back to the present. Elian swam into view. His azure eyes shot signals, signals that she couldn’t decipher. What does he want of me? Why can’t we live for the moment? Just be in the here and now? For an instant she thought of lying, but somehow she knew he would see through it, that it would only push him farther away. “I’m sorry.”
He lifted his arms, and dropped them in frustration. He gazed at her, pleading. She couldn’t help him. Bits of him seemed familiar—as though those features belonged to someone else she’d known a long time ago. Other bits, like his deep, gruff voice and his air of insolence, were strange and new. A fleeting sense of abandonment passed through her. Whoever he reminded her of had left her once before. She didn’t want that loneliness again. She turned from him and put the key in the door. He caught her arm. “We’ll meet again, Sydney.”
She tried to match the hope in his voice. “Perhaps we will.” She ran inside and threw herself on the bed. After a good cry and a call for room service, she paced the room, trying to get a grip on her emotions. Something deep in Elian’s eyes drew her. She didn’t recognize his face, but she felt a linkage, a bond with him. An affinity shared, but long ago. She understood him, knew him. A face rose before her, but all jumbled as though she looked at it through a kaleidoscope. Eyes, chin, nose, cheeks, all split up into triangles and rhomboids, making the face as inscrutable as a Picasso painting. She gave up.
Halfway through the chicken cordon bleu she stopped, fork stalled two inches from her mouth. Why does he care whether I recognize him? What is this rapport I sense? Is there some deep, dark secret I should know? Oh my God, is he my long lost brother?
Could he be? Read the book to find out! I’d be happy to give a pdf copy of Lapses to a reader with a most interesting flight story. Please be sure to leave your email address in the comment. Here's the main link to the blog hop:


Manda Ward said...

I don't have one I'm afraid. The last time I flew, I was with my baby son and toddler daughter. They found the flight uncomfortable. Still the holiday to Portugal more than made up for it!

morgan said...

I was late for a flight once. A bold gentleman friend called the airport implying a very important person was on their way and the flight had to be held, which they did. Apparently, I was a senator's daughter.

A few evil stares were sent my way as I made my way back to my seat.

M. S. Spencer said...

Love the story Morgan! M. S.

Tamara Hoffa said...

I flew to Germany when I was 16, was supposed to have a leason meet me at the airport in Frankfort to escort me to my fight to Stuttgart. The plane was late, no one met me, I had to literally run through the airport to make my connecting flight. I never even got my passport stamped, I boarded the flight and they pulled up the stairs. I made it but my luggage didn't!

M. S. Spencer said...

When these things happen I just tell myself it'll make a great story some day! Flight attendants call s,one like you a "runner". M. S.

Melissa Keir said...

My most interesting flight story was when we had to deboard the plane because the nose was damaged from a bird. I couldn't imagine how that bird could do such damage but I was glad not to fly that plane!

Lindsay said...

The ending could be interesting

Jillian said...

sounds awesomely awesome!!

Flight story: there was one return from Europe where my son was convinced the two guys in the back row were up to something nefarious. They kept looking at their watches and pacing back there where the stewards keep the food and the restrooms were. He finally decided they weren't going to make the plane go down when he spied one of them reading a luxury boat magazine because if the dude was wanting a boat like that, he wanted to live.

Catherine Lee said...

I have been fortunate not to have too many interesting flight stories. I did travel to China several years ago. While there, I picked up some honey from a local store. I'm a big fan of honey and have at least 20 varieties from different areas of the US. I use it in my daily tea. WELL, it was quite a negotiation to buy it in China because honey is also used there for cosmetic purposes and with the language barrier it was a challenge to make sure that I was getting honey for eating rather than using on my skin. SO, when I got it back to the states, I was sick to see that several government agencies had obviously opened and done who knows what to my honey--customs, the TSA, and the Department of Agriculture! They were nice enough to wrap warning tape around it--that it had been opened and inspected. The jars looked like crime scene evidence! I never did dare eat it after that. Obviously, my honey had a more interesting flight experience than I.
catherinelee100 at gmail dot com

M. S. Spencer said...

Funny story honey! I'll share one; I was on an Air France flight from Paris to London and we took off but kept circling Paris. Finally we landed back at Orly, and the captain announced that they'd discovered a door OPEN ("oops, what do you mean, oops???). They dont' call it Air France for nothing...

bn100 said...

forced to stay the night at an airport with barely anyone there because the airline made me miss my connecting flight by a few minutes for a so-called weather delay

bn100candg at hotmail dot com