Sam's Sunday Snippet

In the mood for a fast, fun Halloween read? A Honeybun in Hell might be just the thing! 

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"...The story itself has a little bit of everything; mystery and intrigue, action and adventure, sexual chemistry and sweet romance, not to mention a kick-butt spooky location. Once again Sam Cheever's witty tone and quirky characters give readers a quick and lively caper. This is one that I will read and enjoy over and over again." ~ Got Romance Reviews

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The cat yowled its dismay as Bella turned around and started climbing toward the third floor. When she reached the third floor landing she stopped, gasping in horror. Condensation rose from the handle of the door leading into the hallway.

It was covered in frost.

Bella closed her eyes and swore. Pulling the sleeve of her sweater over her hand she reached to grab the handle, expecting a spark when she touched the frosty metal. Spirits always left behind electrical energy. People like Bella were sensitive to it.

The handle sparked and Bella jerked but held on, turning it quickly and entering the hall.

The hallway was cold and darker than usual. Her foot crunched on broken glass as she stepped through the door. She realized the light fixture above the door was broken. A soft, spitting sound made her jump. The wires from the fixture were exposed and arcing, like the fixture had been ripped right off the ceiling.

Fammy yowled on the other side of the door and Bella opened it, grabbing her up before she could cut her paws on the glass. The rotund feline complained loudly and tried to squirm away. Bella set her down a few feet away from the glass. “Stay away from this glass or you’re gonna have sore paws, cranky kitty.”

Fammy yowled snottily and stalked down the hallway, her tail snapping with irritation. Bella’s vision improved enough to allow her to see dim shapes in the pitch black space. She followed Fammy’s whipping tail toward the end of the hall, where the shadows deepened to pure black and the air was meat locker cold.

Fammy stopped suddenly and hissed, her tail going rigid and her fur standing up on end. Bella’s skin prickled and she broke out all over in a cold sweat.

No! Stop him, please!

The disembodied voice slammed through Bella’s head and she gasped, pitching sideways and hitting the wall hard. She caught herself and managed to stay upright, leaning heavily against the wall.

Down by her feet, Fammy expanded to twice her normal size, her fur standing on end with alarm. Winding frantically against Bella’s calves, the rotund feline hissed and spit in warning against whatever stalked them. Bella tried to focus enough to see what lurked in the shadows, but she couldn’t shake the cold, mind numbing fog that had slammed over her. A frigid breeze, thick with a sickly sweet smell, whipped past her, and icy fingers trailed across her skin. Bella snatched her arm away and screamed. The ground shifted beneath her feet and her knees buckled, her eyes rolling back in her head.

Fammy had gone quiet. The lack of sound ominous.

Bella fought the unconsciousness that pulled at her. She was vaguely aware of a deep, concerned voice and a pair of strong arms wrapping her up in blessed heat. That was the last thing her mind registered as the jagged edges of her consciousness spliced her mind. Shutting out the physical world, and casting her harshly into her nightmares.

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Sam's Sunday Snippet

He wants to be alone to think about his life…and ends up saving hers!

Depressed by injuries that have sidelined his career and pretty sure he’ll never find love, Heathcliffe goes to his cousin Peyton's Dude Ranch in Southern Indiana for some "alone" time. His plan is to contemplate the direction his life is taking and figure out how to get back on track.

But he didn’t count on Nita Harley, the ranch's newly hired activity director. Nita's an attractive, young widow who's trying to make sense of her life too, but her problems are much more urgent and dangerous than Heathcliffe's. Someone is killing everyone Nita connects with and, as their feelings for each other grow, she's pretty sure Heathcliffe will be next.

~~*~~

In Heathcliffe’s dream, a brisk wind slammed a shutter against the wall and made the dying fire sputter in the fireplace. Buried in the dream, he sat up and looked at the window, seeing nothing but a dense fall of white beyond the streaked glass.

The room was cold, so cold, and he was so tired. He turned to look at Nita and she was just lying there, her eyes open and unfocused, her small face so pale that her freckles were vibrant spots across her nose and cheeks. Her pretty lips were colorless. His gaze slipped downward and fixed on the sheet draping her chest.

There was no telltale rise and fall. Nita was dead. He accepted the knowledge with a cold clarity that terrified him. On some level, even immersed in the dream, he knew he should be screaming. But he was strangely numb.

Something else bothered him, though. His mind struggled to grasp it, but it continued to dance just beyond his grasp. Heathcliffe started to lie back down, started to close his eyes.

He was so tired. So t…

Slam!

Yanked from sleep, Heathcliffe surged upright. His nose twitched. What was that smell? Like rotten eggs.

It was quiet outside. So quiet he could hear a soft hissing noise coming from the kitchen.

It took him a moment to figure out what the sound was. His heart beat against his ribs as he leapt from the bed, “Nita! Nita, get up, fast. We need to get out of here!”

She murmured and tossed her head but continued to sleep. The fire! Heathcliffe threw the cold fireplace a quick look as he scooped her up and started running toward the door.

The floor between the kitchen and the door was covered in dark spots. Here and there a chunk of snow still sat unmelted.

He hesitated only briefly in front of the door.

The fire was out but the pilot light was lit. The gas that saturated the air apparently hadn’t reached it yet. When it did it would ignite and blow in the space of time it took to gasp. Opening the outside door would change the air pressure, sucking that gas saturated air into the living area, and it would be all over. But if he didn’t open the door the gas drenched air would eventually find that flame, sooner rather than later, and blow.

He had no choice. He had to move fast.

He threw the bolt, wrenched the door open, and plowed through the snow just as the world exploded behind them. The explosion rocked the ground beneath his feet and sent them flying on a burst of superheated air. 

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Sam's Sunday Snippet

The gang flips a 200-year-old manor house in the beautiful, rolling hills of Brown County, Indiana. Unfortunately the house is the site of a questionable death and is rumored to be haunted. Adam and Dirk get caught up in the story of the young couple who were torn apart by family, local events, and something sinister that still seems to be stalking the house. It might not be a ghost, but whatever it is, it has the potential to be deadly.

~~*~~

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

Adam tossed and turned on the cot, his sleep haunted by visions of dead animals, nooses, and blazing fire.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

A cold nose nudged his arm and Adam grumbled, pulling his arm back from the edge of the cot and draping it over his stomach.

He started to doze, his dreams rising up to disturb him again. A hoarse scream pierced Adam’s half-sleep and he sat up with a gasp. Walter was across the room, digging at the closed door and whining.

Adam surged off the cot, got tangled in the sheet wrapped around his legs, and fell to his knees on the floor. A crash split the silence. Walter barked, frantically biting at the wood.

Adam realized the noises were coming from down the hall and, with a jolt of horror, understood that it had to be Dirk. He threw open his door and started running. Dirk’s door was locked, the handle refusing to turn in Adam’s hand. He screamed Dirk’s name as he pounded and Walter lunged at the door.

A horrible, wet, choking noise sounded behind the door and Adam lost all semblance of reason. He shoved Walter out of the way and stepped back, kicking the door beside the knob as hard as he could.

Pain sheared up his leg. He ignored it, kicking the door a second time. The choking sounds had grown more frantic by the time his third kick crashed the door back on its hinges. And his worst nightmare was realized.

Dirk hung from the iron fixture at the center of the ceiling, twisting and frantically clawing at the rope noose digging into his throat. As he spun, fighting death with every second, the fixture started to loosen from the plaster.

Unfortunately, it didn’t appear that it would fall in time to save Dirk. Adam ran over and grabbed at Dirk’s thrashing legs. In full out panic mode, Dirk couldn’t stop himself from flailing. His legs kicked in violent arcs, slamming against Adam over and over before Adam managed to get his arms wrapped around them.

Gritting his teeth, Adam lifted Dirk as best he could, managing only a couple inches. It was enough to allow Dirk to pull some air into his lungs. He gasped in a breath and cried out at the pain caused by the effort. 

“Breathe, baby,” Adam urged. “Just breathe. You’re gonna be fine.” Even as he tried to calm his lover, Adam looked around for a way to hoist Dirk up enough so he could remove the noose.

There was a chair across the room, lying on its side against the wall as if it had been thrown or kicked there. Adam had the sudden, horrifying thought that Dirk had done this to himself. He couldn’t reach the chair unless he let go of Dirk again and there was no way he was doing that.

Dirk’s legs started to slip through Adam’s arms and he panicked. His arms and shoulders were already straining from trying to keep him elevated in the clumsy hold. He glanced at Dirk. Can you get your legs over my shoulders?”

Dirk pulled on the rope with bloody fingers and managed to lift himself a little but he was weak from his struggles and grew quickly frustrated when his fingers slipped.

“Never mind, here…” Adam stretched out a leg and hooked his toe over the cot, dragging it closer. Dirk started to struggle again and Adam realized he was pulling on Dirk’s legs. He quickly readjusted to take the slack off the rope and reached out with his leg again. With much grunting and straining, Adam finally managed to hook his foot around the frame and tug the cot closer. The cot scraped over the floor until it was close enough for Adam to step up with one foot.

With his leg bent and supported by the cot, he settled Dirk’s feet onto his bent thigh. Dirk was able to shove upward onto his toes and give himself another couple inches of slack. He gasped, his bleeding fingers slipping over the rope as he tried to pull it past his chin and scrape it over his head. Finally he was free and he looped his fingers through the noose so he could lower himself to the floor. Adam held onto Dirk as he slid downward, supporting him as he dropped.

As Dirk’s feet touched the floor his legs collapsed beneath him. Adam caught him, grabbing him into a hug that nearly finished the job the rope had started. He finally loosened his grip when Dirk gasped in pain. Kissing Dirk’s face Adam thought his heart might pound right out of his chest. Dirk clutched him hard, his chest heaving.

“Who did this to you, Dirk?”

Dirk scraped a shaky hand over his face but didn’t respond. He was vibrating with adrenalin and his gaze was blank. He appeared to be shocky with fear.

“It’s okay, babe, we’ll talk about it later. Let’s get you to the hospital. We need to have that throat checked out. If it swells up you might not be able to breathe.”

Dirk sighed but let Adam help him to his feet and out the door. 

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Sam's Sunday Snippets

If you're a Honeybun fan, this is where it all started. If you haven't "tasted" your first Honeybun yet, this is a good place to start. #:0) A fun, fast paced romantic suspense, A Honeybun and Coffee is Alastair and Angie's story. The snippet below is not part of any excerpts I've ever published for this book. It's brand new! Enjoy.

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RT Magazine gave A Honeybun and Coffee 4 Stars!
"...the adrenaline shot of the Honeybun brothers will definitely catch the attention of every romance reader out there. The first in the Honeybun Hunks series is a goodie. You will want one of these Honeybuns with your morning coffee!"

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The house was tiny, white, and non-descript in every way.  The yard was bare to the point of tacky, with patchy green grass that stood up in tufts here and there like somebody had forgotten to mow for a few weeks…or years.

Alastair easily found the key under a ratty old doormat that said, “Go away, I have a gun.”

“Subtle.”  Angie said.

Dust bunnies attacked them as they entered the front door and then danced around their feet in the breeze from outside.  Angie sneezed.  “Well, I guess I know what we’ll be doing first.”  She said with a wry smile.

“It’s not really like the movies is it? Where the house is clean and fully stocked and filled with competent looking guys with big guns?”

Angie grimaced, “Who nearly always get killed almost immediately because somehow the bad guys infiltrate the police department and find out where the good guys are holed up?”

Alastair nodded, “There is that.  So…what? You’re thinking since the house is dirty and unkempt and there are no guys with big guns we should be safe?”

“That’s what I’m thinkin’ yeah.”

They shared a smile. Walking through the tiny house they quickly got acclimated. There were only four rooms, five if you counted the tiny bathroom. Two bedrooms, a living room with a small, black and white TV, and a very small kitchen tucked into the very back of the house. The kitchen window had bars over it and the back door was solid metal, no window. “Stainless steel, very contemporary, with a warm patina of high security lock up about it.” Angie murmured.

Alastair, deciding humor was the best way to deal with the depressing little house, nodded and cocked his head, placing his hand on his chin as if considering decorating possibilities. “Yes, generally we see the stainless steel on the appliances rather than the exterior door, but I’m kind of partial to the puke green of the appliances myself and wouldn’t change them for anything.”

Angie cocked her head to mimic him and said, “Puke is not quite right, I think this shade is more snot or booger. With a tinge of Malaria mucus thrown in.”

Alastair laughed and walked over to the phone on the wall.  “Holy shit! It has a dial.”

Angie was busy opening cupboards and didn’t look at him. “Well I would hope it’s working! It wouldn’t do us much good otherwise.”

“No, I mean it has an actual dial on the front of it.” He picked up the receiver, puke green to match the appliances, and put it to his ear. “Shit! A dial but no dial tone. Perfect.”

Alastair hung up the phone and turned toward the front door. “I’d better lock up and set the alarm, just in case.”

Angie leaned against the scarred kitchen counter. Tears filled her eyes as a sudden feeling of homesickness swamped her. She hadn’t spoken to her sister for days and she’d had to abandon her coffee shoppe, which had been her life up until a few days earlier when the nightmare started. And now she had to stay in the grungy little pit of a house for days with nothing to do. She heard Alistair returning and quickly turned toward the refrigerator, swiping at her wet cheeks guiltily.

“We’re all locked up.” He came up behind her and looked over her shoulder as she peered into the refrigerator, more for a way to hide her red eyes than with any interest in its contents.

“Score!” Alastair reached past her and grabbed two bottles of beer. “We have beer, and I have a cell phone. We can call for pizza. The day is looking up.” When she just nodded, not trusting herself to speak, he stood silently behind her for a moment. She prayed he’d move away so she could get herself pulled together before turning around. 

But instead he moved closer. 

When he suddenly slid his arms around her waist Angie stiffened at the unexpected contact. However, she quickly realized that, although the contact was unexpected, it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. In fact it felt pretty damn good. She leaned back and allowed him to cradle her for a moment, hot tears rolling down her cheeks.

Alastair leaned his head against the top of hers and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel bad. It wasn’t his fault either. He’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. “I’m okay, I just get hit with these feelings every once in a while. I’ve been working through them.”

He nuzzled at her neck, just below her ear. “You’re pretty amazing you know that?”

And here she’d been feeling pretty stupid and weak. She shook her head again, afraid to speak for fear she’d break down into tears.

His lips gently worked the sensitive flesh of her neck, leaving behind warmth and a sense of loss when they moved on. The tears stopped as her body kicked into a new emotion and she found herself holding her breath, afraid that he’d stop. She closed her eyes and let herself relax completely against him, sighing. 

His lips worked their way up to her ear and she shivered as the warmth of his breath made a wisp of hair flutter against her cheek. Somewhere low on her body she started to clench and warm. Her mind let go of the fear and grabbed hold of the new, more welcome sensations of lust. Which was why when he whispered into her ear, his voice husky with emotion, she jumped and her eyes flew open.

“Just pepperoni or extra deep meat lover’s?”

Angie laughed and Alastair nipped gently at her ear lobe before letting go of her to step away.

She tried to ignore the way her body mourned the loss of him as he punched a single number into his cell phone.

“You have it on speed dial?”

He shrugged, “Hey, come on, I’m a single guy.  Where do you think those clichés come from?”

Angie laughed again and shook her head.  Suddenly the next few days seemed filled with possibility rather than just boredom and fear.  “Thin crust, green pepper and onion.”

He made a face, “Bleurg!  That’s a girl pizza.”

She shrugged and grinned at him.

Shaking his head he murmured, “I’ll order two pizzas then, a real one and one without testosterone.”

Angie continued to grin, “Salad too.”

Alastair looked as if somebody had stepped on his privates. But he ordered salad along with the two pizzas. 

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Sam's Sunday Snippets

"This book was wonderful. Just enough spice with a LOT of fun mixed in. Maybe one day the heroine WILL learn what STAY means. You will have to read it to understand..." Reader Review

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Blaise used the light of the fire to find a door and went outside. Emerging from the building into the same alley where the sexy private detective had jumped, she squinted into the darkness, listening for any sound that would give her a clue where he’d gone.

She started down the alley, her eyes shifting left and right on a constant, terrified rotation. She opened her mouth and tried calling him in a husky whisper. “Here cranky sexy man…here cranky, cranky.”

Nothing.

Blaise tried again, louder this time. “Yoo hoo, hunky man with a gun…come out, come out wherever you are.”

She didn’t hear him come up behind her. Didn’t know he was there until a strong arm snaked around her waist and pulled her backward. She squeaked in alarm as he snugged her up against a long, hard body that smelled of mint and clean male animal.

“You think I’m hunky?”

His voice rumbled against her back, sending ripples of need spiraling through her belly and lower, to the area between her thighs that throbbed for him.

She realized she should panic, he was holding her tight, showing no signs of letting her go, and she knew nothing about him. Nothing except the fact that he made her body go all melty with need when he touched her. Fear didn’t have a chance against all the other feelings. It was easily swamped by a tsunami of lust and, amazingly, an irresistible feeling of safety when he was near. 

The woman felt incredible in his arms. Her softly rounded butt curved against his hopeful shaft and made his mind cloud with lust. Her waist was tiny, her large breasts brushing the top of his arm where it encircled her. Against his better judgment, his lips found the warm skin of her neck and forged a soft trail downward, where the skimpy dress left much of her soft, ebony skin for him to explore.

She shivered as his tongue slid out to taste the spot where her pulse beat against his lips, sending her sweet, warm scent into the air to draw him in.

Her head dropped backward to lean against his chest, allowing him full access to her throat, and she made a little mewling sound as he spread one hand across her belly, rubbing it in gentle spirals.

The other hand lifted to cup an enormous breast, feeling the hard peak of a nipple under his palm.

She turned suddenly in his arms and captured his lips, pressing her delectable curves into his body as she wrapped her long arms around his neck. Her lips were so incredibly soft and her breath was sweet with the remnants of Champagne and the underlying taste of woman.

Her lips opened and her tongue slid out to tangle with his, making Dolfe groan with need and press his fingers into her sweetly rounded butt. He held her against his groin so he could grind his hard shaft against her belly.

He knew they were reacting from an overdose of adrenaline. Channeling fear into sexual heat was a common phenomenon, understandable under the circumstances, but that didn’t make the feelings any less real.

Something crashed down the alley and he jumped away from her, dragging her behind his body with one hand and lifting his Glock with the other. 

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Sam's Sunday Snippet

Honeybun at a Dude Ranch - Book 6 of my fun Honeybun Hunks series, is here! 


He wants to be alone to think about his life…and ends up saving hers!

Depressed by injuries that have sidelined his career and pretty sure he’ll never find love, Heathcliffe goes to his cousin Peyton's Dude Ranch in Southern Indiana for some "alone" time. His plan is to contemplate the direction his life is taking and figure out how to get back on track.

But he didn’t count on Nita Harley, the ranch's newly hired activity director. Nita's an attractive, young widow who's trying to make sense of her life too, but her problems are much more urgent and dangerous than Heathcliffe's. Someone is killing everyone Nita connects with and, as their feelings for each other grow, she's pretty sure Heathcliffe will be next.

~~*~~

The snow started to fall harder, faster, in supersized flakes. It was beautiful. Bouncing along in front of him, Nita pulled her thigh length sweater closer and inhaled deeply. “It’s a gorgeous night. Great night for a naked ride, eh?”

Heathcliffe tripped and fell forward, barely keeping himself upright by grabbing hold of a thick tree branch intruding on the narrow pathway. Snow dumped on his head when he shook the branch. “Huh? What?”

Muted by the falling snow, Nita’s hearty laugh didn’t lose any of its power. It throbbed against Heathcliffe’s senses, sending a jolt of interest thrumming through his system.

He shook his head. “Are you gonna keep tweaking me, firecracker? ‘Cause I have seven brothers you know. Payback’s worse than a bitch in our house…she’s bitch’s terrorist cousin.”

Nita started running. “Bring it, Honeybun. I’m not afraid of you or your seven brothers.”

He caught up to her as she was unlocking the door to his cabin. Her fingers were so cold she couldn’t get the key to turn in the lock. “Here, give me that. Why didn’t you put on some clothes before we left?”

She huddled in her sweater and waggled her eyebrows at him until he laughed. “You’re incorrigible.” Heathcliffe pushed the door open and tried to usher her inside.

She resisted. “My muffins, remember? I need to get back.”

“You shouldn’t be out here alone in the dark. I’ll walk you back.”

“Then I’ll have to walk you back here, and then you’ll have to walk me back there. Then I’ll…”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Just…” Heathcliffe reached to swipe a snowflake off her nose. “Be careful, okay?”

Another snowflake landed on her lush bottom lip and her tongue came out, sweeping it away. “You’re thinking, what? A mad omelet maker might sneak up on me and whisk me into senselessness. Or wait, a crazy sous chef might decide I’d be better with drawn butter…”

Heathcliffe lowered his head and did the only thing he could think of to stop her from talking. He touched his lips to hers.

Big mistake.

Earth shattering, world changing, catastrophic mistake. 

As soon as their lips touched, Heathcliffe’s mind shut down and his body exploded with sensation. Before he realized what he was doing, he’d pulled her into his arms and was wrapped around her so tightly she had no chance of escaping unless he wanted to let her go.

Though she shivered in his arms, the heat they created together was more than enough to melt the snow around them. Her lips were as soft as he’d imagined. Her sweet breath fluttered against his face in heated puffs. Heathcliffe inhaled her exquisite essence and it made him light headed. And when she twined her tiny hands in his shirt and pulled him more deeply into the kiss, Heathcliffe knew he was lost. He didn’t have the strength to break the kiss, didn’t want to. He wanted more of the tiny little spitfire in his arms. Right at that moment, in fact, he wanted all of her—needed—everything she had to offer him. 

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Sam's Sunday Snippet

What do you get when you Match a Strong Honeybun Female with a Dark, Incredibly Sexy Middle Eastern Hero?  Honeybun Sheik!

Night Owl Reviews Top Pick! "I love this book from the role reversal of Calia taking on the active role of bodyguard and protecting Abdel and that Abdel did not fit the stereotype of a narrow minded Arab. He's gorgeous, funny and appreciates both a joke and a woman who knows her own mind. I shall be checking out other books by this author. This one is an adventurous romp and a charmingly sexy romance." 

 ~~*~~

 

Abdel Ezzat brushed a hand over his visor to clear it of snow. He could have sworn he saw a woman fly by between the evergreens. He stopped his snowmobile and turned it off. The high pitched whine of another engine filled the silence he’d expected. 

He climbed off his sled and removed his helmet, settling it on the seat. As he made his way toward the sound of the idling sled, he noticed that the light snow he’d started his ride in had turned to near blizzard conditions.

If he didn’t get back to his chalet soon, there was a good chance he’d be stuck out there. He’d probably freeze to death. 

He briefly considered turning back, taking his sled home. It was probably just some fool, like him, who’d thought that a ride in the snow would allow him to hide from the reality of his life for a while. But something about the sound of that engine bothered him. So, against his better judgment, he stepped through the thick copse of evergreen trees.

She was lying face down in the snow. Not moving. Her head and face were covered by a fur trimmed hood, but it was easy to see that it was a woman. The soft curves were evident in a slim fitting white snow suit and her feet were warmly encased in fur boots. 

Pulling off one of his gloves, Abdel reached down and found the side of her neck beneath the ski jacket. Despite the bitter temperatures, her skin was warm and oh so soft under his fingertips. 

Her pulse was strong. He reached down and pulled off a soft boot and scratched the bottom of her foot. The leg twitched. 

No apparent paralysis. He thought it was safe to move her. Looking toward the sky, he realized she would die if he didn’t. So he decided to take the chance. 

He stood up and walked over to her sled, shutting it off. Silence settled over the night like a chilly blanket. The thick, heavy snowflakes drifted silently around them, nearly obscuring the woman within only moments of her accident. 

Abdel walked back and turned her over . Short, curly, reddish-black hair framed a creamy, brown face with high cheekbones and a thick fringe of lashes that formed feathery arcs against her skin. A jolt of sensual awareness hit him as her lush, red lips and flawless skin were illuminated in the dappled light from his sled on the other side of the tree line. 

His damsel in distress was delicious. 

Abdel swore. Just what he needed.

He scooped her up and stood. His chalet wasn’t far. And he had people there who could help her. 

Abdel figured she’d be fine. 

The question was, with a beautiful woman in the house, would he?

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A Truly Villainous Interview!

No book is complete without a villain whom you love to hate. But there's no question that some villains are more hate-worthy than others. To prove that point I give you Deva Banks, from The Biggest Poser. #:0) 

Of all the villains I’ve written over the years, Deva Banks has a spot right at the top of my “Love to Hate” list. As described in the blurb for the book, she’s “the biggest b-eye-itch” you’ll ever meet. But she’s dang entertaining in the process. I hope you enjoy my interview with Deva. I know I sure did!

 ~~*~~

Intrepid news babe: Good morning Ms. Banks! I’m so glad you could join me this morning to talk about this year’s season of Lose it! I’ve been a fan of the show for years. It’s an amazing show.

Deva Banks: Let’s just be completely clear. The show’s a smoldering turd swirling in a giant toilet. I’m just here to explain to everybody that I can’t be held responsible for the stench wafting up from it. I’ve done my very best to try to save the season but I’m dealing with total morons. 

Intrepid news babe: Um, yeah, okay. So, first of all, tell me a little bit about your co-star, Jillie Maxwell, by all accounts a tough trainer but fair. America’s sweetheart, some would say.

Deva Banks: Some would be idiots. The woman’s too stupid to live. She pretends to be tough but she totally babies her contestants. Those big fat fatties are lucky to lose a single pound under her watch. She’s a total cluster f…

Intrepid news babe: Now, now, Ms. Banks. We can’t have that kind of language on the show (laughs nervously) We’ll have the FCC after us! 

Deva Banks: (Shrugs) Whatever. Bunch of pus…

Intrepid news babe: Alright! Let’s move on to Chef Brandt. He sure is a sexy drink of water. Did you find yourself falling under his influence during the season?

Deva Banks: (Snorts) He’s a good looking guy. I can’t deny that. And something about him makes my insides go all squishy… (darts a horrified look at the intrepid news babe) …erm, but he’s a fool. He thinks all the things that are happening on the set are accidents. I mean, the producer getting thrown out of a window? How do you make that into an accident? The greased climbing wall…the hole in the boats for the river race? Come on! He’s just a pretty face…a tall, sexy, really hot body without a brain. (shakes her head).

Intrepid news babe: Ms. Banks, do you want to talk about the rumor that you did some time for beating a guy up in a bar fight? You know, maybe give your side? Set the record straight?

Deva Banks: No. 

Intrepid news babe: Um… Okay... So how did the show treat you? Did you get the star treatment you…erm…deserve?

Deva Banks: (Glares at intrepid news babe) Asswipes…

Intrepid news babe: Hooboy, that one slid right past me. Sorry FCC. 

Deva Banks: They knew I was afraid of heights. I put it right in my dossier. But they put me on the fourth floor. The fourth floor! I couldn’t go near the windows or I would get dizzy and pass out. And the rooms were small and dingy. Everything was dingy. The place is a dump. I’m not sure I want to go back for another season. Even if they ask me. Which of course they will. Jillie Maxwell isn’t capable of running that show on her own. She’s a total waste of space. I don’t know why they bother anyway. Those big, fat, fatties aren’t ever gonna lose the weight. If they wanted to lose it they would have already. It’s not that hard, you just stop stuffing food into your fat, fat, fattie face. You don’t need a degree in physics to figure that one out. (slants a look at the intrepid news babe) Although, apparently you haven’t figured it out yet. 

Intrepid news babe: Alrighty then! That will do it for our interview. Thanks so much for stopping by today, Ms. Banks. (grinds teeth and smiles, eyes a little wild)

Deva Banks: Maybe if you laid off those donut holes they saturated the green room with. You know your backside looks just like a donut hole. You’ve probably got cellulite the size of my eyeballs on that puppy, am I right?

Intrepid news babe: Cut!! Cut, cut, cut, cut CUT! 

Deva Banks: Is that a porpoise on your belly or are you just glad to see m…

That’s a WRAP!!!

 ~~*~~

Book info and more...

BLURB: Personal trainer for the ever popular, Lose it! reality show, Jillie Maxwell is up for the most important award of her career. And she’s competing against the biggest b-eye-itch she’s ever met. Fortunately for her, she has the sexiest man alive in her corner. Problem is, each and every one of them has a dirty little secret that could tank a career. 

For the contestants, the race is on to lose the most weight and win everything. For the staff of the popular weight loss show, the clock is ticking to the culmination of their lies and the possibility of losing it all.

Will the Biggest Poser win? Or will the lies just grow and grow until they sink the whole show? Only one thing is certain. Whatever happens, it’s gonna be one hell of an entertaining ride!

The Biggest Poser is Live!

May the best liar win. Or die trying!

It's finally here! It seems like I've waited so long for this fun book to release and I'm really excited about it. I hope you all enjoy it even half as much as I did. Here's a blurb and excerpt for your reading pleasure. #:0)

~~*~~

Personal trainer for the ever popular, Lose it! reality show, Jillie Maxwell is up for the most important award of her career. And she’s competing against the biggest b-eye-itch she’s ever met. Fortunately for her, she has the sexiest man alive in her corner. Problem is, each and every one of them has a dirty little secret that could tank a career.

For the contestants, the race is on to lose the most weight and win everything. For the staff of the popular weight loss show, the clock is ticking to the culmination of their lies and the possibility of losing it all.

Will the Biggest Poser win? Or will the lies just grow and grow until they sink the whole show? Only one thing is certain. Whatever happens, it’s gonna be an entertaining ride!

~~*~~

“It's Béarnaise sauce.” 

A thick beef tenderloin steak sizzled on the countertop grill.

He examined the sauce over her shoulder and nodded his approval. “Looks wonderful. You’ve gotten it very smooth. Good work.” 

She grinned. “Here…” She scooped some into the spoon and blew on it, then dipped her finger into the sauce. “Taste it.” He happily took the sauce-laden finger into his mouth, sucking it greedily. He held the finger longer than strictly necessary and moaned. “Delicious. And the sauce is pretty good too.”

Her lips twitched and she shook her head. “I’m serious. Does it measure up to the expectations of a Chef from La Friandise?”

Brandt grabbed her hand and reinserted the finger into his mouth, sliding his tongue over its velvety surface. “Mmm, salty, sweet, with a rich undertone of sexy woman…I give it four stars.”

Her golden eyes sparkled as she cocked her head at him. “Only four?”

He shrugged, lifting her arm to lick along the inside, starting at her wrist and working his way up to the tender skin on the inside of her elbow. Jillie shivered and clenched her thighs as a wave of pure lust swamped her. He lifted his head and frowned. “There’s a delicate undertone there that escapes me. It meshes well with the lemony tang of the dish. But it needs something…”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“I think a dash of Brandt would finish it off nicely.” 

She laughed. “First the food, then the Brandt.”

He moved in closer, pinning her against the island. “But the Brandt will go bad if you don’t use it soon.”

Jillie pulled the pan off the flame and reached for the long tined fork sitting beside the grill. She speared the meat and settled it in the center of a small plate. “The Brandt is already bad…very bad…and he’ll just have to wait.” She poured sauce over the sizzling meat, allowing it to pool gently on either side, and then uncovered a skillet and scooped up seasoned, pan seared asparagus and onion, settling the incredible smelling concoction alongside the steak. 

Despite himself, Brandt’s mouth watered. “Okay, now you’ve got my attention.” 

~~*~~

BUY The Biggest Poser!

Sam's Snippet Sunday

I'm very excited about this fun spoof on The Biggest Loser reality show! I hope you enjoy this little taste and will check the book out on Thursday when it releases!

~~*~~

Personal trainer for the ever popular, Lose it! reality show, Jillie Maxwell is up for the most important award of her career. And she’s competing against the biggest b-eye-itch she’s ever met. Fortunately for her, she has the sexiest man alive in her corner. Problem is, each and every one of them has a dirty little secret that could tank a career.

For the contestants, the race is on to lose the most weight and win everything. For the staff of the popular weight loss show, the clock is ticking to the culmination of their lies and the possibility of losing it all.

Will the Biggest Poser win? Or will the lies just grow and grow until they sink the whole show? Only one thing is certain. Whatever happens, it’s gonna be an entertaining ride!

 ~~*~~

 “Those look delicious.”

Brandt glanced up, smiling. “They are. I’ve spent a lot of time working up recipes for desserts that taste fattening but aren’t. For most people giving up desserts is the hardest part of dieting. I’m trying to make it just a little bit easier.”

Jillie nodded, eyeing the palm-sized delicacies with frosting trickled over them. “It certainly is for me. I love sweets.”

Brandt dug a coin from the bottom of the last pastry and then stopped, a devilish look making his eyes shine. The muscle in his forearm flexed and the pastry split into two pieces in his big hand. “Oops. I broke it. I guess we might as well eat this one.”

Jillie’s gaze slipped upward, finding his. She captured her velvety bottom lip between even, white teeth, her eyes sparkling. “I shouldn’t.”

He nodded. “You really should. You’re gonna need all the energy you can muster to get through the next few months with the evil Deva.”

Jillie laughed, shaking her head. “She is a handful.”

“Attila the Hun was a handful. This woman’s a demon. She trails brimstone fumes in her wake.”

 Book page and more...

Sam's Sunday Snippet

A Honeybun In Hell - Paranormal Romantic Suspense

5 stars from Got Romance Reviews! "These Honeybun stories just keep getting hotter! With every new book in this series I love them more and more. The story itself has a little bit of everything; mystery and intrigue, action and adventure, sexual chemistry and sweet romance, not to mention a kick-butt spooky location. Once again Sam Cheever's witty tone and quirky characters give readers a quick and lively caper. This is one that I will read and enjoy over and over again." 

~~*~~

Edric watched Plaithe scurry off and then turned back to the cemetery. He smiled. It was absolutely perfect. Creepy…but perfect. He could make great use of it in his book. The cemetery appeared to be about a half acre square and was completely bounded by shoulder high, black, iron fencing with skulls serving as finials for its many posts. 

He entered the cemetery beneath an ivy covered archway and looked around. The grass under his sneakers was thick and well-tended and the faint smell of lemons wafted toward him from somewhere. He peered around looking for the source. 

That’s when he spotted her. 

She sat in the center of an ornate concrete bench, her feet stretched out in front of her and her hands resting on either side of her hips. She wore an oversized, cream colored sweater and jeans. Matching leather boots climbed her legs to mid calf and were scrunched softly over her jeans. Her hair fell past her shoulders and was a rich auburn color. It was carelessly bunched at the back of her head, captured in some kind of plastic clip, like she’d shoved it there just to get it out of her face. 

She sat perfectly still, as if she were focusing hard on something. Or listening carefully. 

Edric started toward her, feeling as if a line extended from her to him, reeling him inexorably in. 

She turned when he was only a few steps away, fixing gorgeous, dark green eyes on him. When she smiled, it was as if the dense cloud cover had parted and the sun shined only on them. “Well hello there.” In just those three words Edric could tell she was a Southern Indiana girl. But she’d put her own special brand on the distinctive accent. It was husky and warm, like honey drizzled over warm biscuits, and it made him want to keep her talking.

Book page and excerpt...