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© 2006, December
Quinn Reviews For TORRID TEASERS Volume 1 by December Quinn "A Fine Line had me sweating after a few pages. Francesca and Jack are the perfect couple… they just don’t know it until they are forced to spend sometime alone together. It helps that Jack snooped in Francesca’s luggage and discovered her secret - she is a submissive. I finished this story long before I was ready for it to end. I fell in love with both characters and the D/s scene that they shared had me squirming in my chair. This is hot steamy sex at its best. This is a definite keeper." Rating: 4/5 Stars "Ice House had me wishing that there had been some ice handy in my area. Goodness gracious this is one scorching hot story. I don’t think I have ever imagined having sex outside in freezing cold temperatures, but Ms. Quinn makes it seems like the hottest thing since erotic romance hit the market. This is a truly unique setup and very, very arousing. You are going to love this story." Rating: 4/5 Stars Oleta M Blaylock Sample Chapter For TORRID TEASERS Volume 1 by December Quinn A Fine Line “Shit!” Francesca Blackwell dropped her bulging suitcases back onto the floor with a thud. The expression on her beautiful face was so dejected and pitiful that Jack almost felt sorry for her. Almost. “Sorry, Blackwell,” he said, taking another sip from his steaming mug of coffee. “Looks like your vacation is cancelled this year.” “Really,” she replied. The heavy sarcasm in her voice was another reminder to Jack why he disliked her so much. For the two years they had worked together at Wellington’s School for Girls, she had been nothing but a Grade A bitch. It was as if she’d hated him from the minute she set eyes on him, and no matter how hard he had tried—and he had tried, at least those first couple of months—she still seemed to hate him. Fine with him. He didn’t need her friendship. He had long since gotten over his initial attraction to her...almost. Once he’d realized what a ball-breaking bitch she was, his interest had waned. He certainly didn’t need her company, especially now. Bad enough he was missing his own vacation this year. He’d volunteered to stay behind at the school over Winter Holiday, as Christmas Break was euphemistically referred to these days, because he had work to do and didn’t want to be interrupted. And now Miss Nose-in-the-air was snowed in with him, and was missing her precious trip. Which almost made him happy, except that he was stuck with her until either the snow melted, or the break ended. For a moment, he was tempted to run outside with a hair dryer, but knew it wouldn’t do him any good. There was five feet of snow on the ground. They would just have to stay out of each other’s way as much as possible.
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” she grumbled, as Joe took her hand and led her across the frozen lake. She brushed a strand of dark hair out of her eyes and wished she could find a winter hat that didn’t turn it into a ball of static. “This is not my idea of a fun anniversary.” “Ice fishing is the most fun thing you can do,” he replied cheerfully. Seeing her sardonic smile, he amended, “Well, it’s one of the most fun things you can do. Anyway, Bethie, I really appreciate you agreeing to come along.” Not like I had much choice, Beth thought with a smile. Today was their two year anniversary, and ever since the freeze three weeks ago, she’d known that Joe was itching to get his horrible little shack built and get out onto the lake. To catch fish. Joe didn’t even like fish. And neither did Beth, really. A lifetime of being forced to eat lutefisk and various other culinary monstrosities had left her with a distinct aversion to seafood. While she didn’t like fish, she did like Joe. In fact, she loved him, from the top of his sandy-brown hair and his open, friendly face to the bottom of his big man’s feet. He looked like a good man, a smart and kind one, and he was. He loved her, and if this would make him happy, then she would do it. He could pay her back by taking her out someplace nice. Someplace to really celebrate their anniversary. Maybe they could even get a hotel room, an expensive and luxurious one with a big Jacuzzi bathtub, and an even bigger bed. The idea made her smile. He was definitely going to owe her one after this. “Are you thinking of what you’re going to make me do for you in exchange for this?” Joe’s voice, teasing, broke her reverie. “Why, do I look like I am?” “Your eyes are twinkling,” he said. “But I suppose that could be the sheer excitement of ice fishing finally working its way into your bones.” “I can assure you, it isn’t,” she said. “The only thing working its way into my bones is the cold. Which of these shacks is yours?” “This one,” he said, and Beth stifled a grin at the immense pride in his voice. The shack, perched on the ice like a scruffy troll on a heath, was a mishmash of bits of plywood, quilt scraps, and heavy plastic. It was an architectural nightmare, but Joe looked at it like it was the Taj Mahal. “You built this all by yourself?” She managed to keep the laughter from her voice, and was rewarded by the brightness of his smile. “I did,” he said. “You know, my dad used to help me, but the last four or five years, I’ve built my own. I’ve made some improvements I think you’ll like. Come on in.” He pulled open the scrap of wood that acted as a door and ushered her inside. After the hard, bright white of the sun shining on the frozen lake, Beth’s eyes actually hurt as they tried to adjust to the semi gloom inside the shack. There were no windows, and the only light that entered was from tiny cracks in the makeshift walls. Dust floated and danced in the shafts of light, illuminating the barest bones of furnishings: a couple stools, some blankets, and two small ice chests, one of which had cans of beer in it. Joe’s fishing equipment stood in the corner next to a battery-powered CD player/radio. It was only moderately warmer inside than out. “I thought these places were heated somehow,” Beth said. “Heat could melt the ice,” Joe replied. “It warms up enough, once you’ve been inside for a while.” His gloved hand brushed the wayward lock of hair back out of her face. “With two of us in here, it’ll warm up even faster.” Beth felt her face color. The smell of his skin, his tender touch along her face sent a quiver of pure happiness through her body. This was the best time, when it was just Joe and her, alone somewhere. They could talk for hours, or sit in silence together, or…her nipples, already hardened from the cold, grew even harder. She could feel them under the heavy layers of clothing, the delicate skin of her areola puckering and nubbling at the thought of Joe’s hands, warm and slightly calloused, caressing them. The sensation was momentarily so intense, she almost forgot where she was, that they weren’t back in his little apartment, naked and warm under heavy blankets. Instead, they were here, in this little driftwood room, sitting on a thick slab of solid ice that in the summer was a picturesque lake. Even now, under the ice, there were still fish swimming, and water plants growing in the murky depths. They were totally isolated. It felt primitive, and that feeling was surprisingly sexy. “I thought you said you made improvements,” she said, surprised to hear her voice was a little husky, her throat already tight from desire. “I did,” he replied. “There’s more blankets, and I brought another stool.” “Goodness. I never knew interior decorating was one of your many talents.” “I’m modest about it,” he said, then added a little hesitantly, “You think I have many talents?” “Of course I do,” she said. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.” “You’re my girl, Bethie,” he said, motioning her to a stool. The smile on his face was worth any amount of boredom and cold. Beth counted herself lucky every day to have him in her life, to have found him before some other girl noticed how funny he was, how he was both gentle and manly at the same time. Not to mention that he was the best lover she’d ever had in her life. Smiling, she took the seat he indicated, ignoring the cold seeping through her jeans at the touch of the hard stool. Maybe there was some way to take Joe’s mind away from fishing today. |