Your first published book is like your first love for many reasons.
I think the main one is when you finally have your first book published, it's a
lot like your first love. You're not sure what you're doing. You're nervous
that you're going to screw up in some gigantic way and no one will love you
ever again. Once you make it through all the hard work, you find out you didn't
have anything to be scared of. The Michelangelo Blues was that book for me. I'm
sure some of that nervousness shows through in it, but in spite of that, the
book is something I will forever be proud of. Why? Because, it proved that I was
an author. You can't get a better feeling than that.
Blurb
Janis Stockwell knew she was complete when she made partner. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Instead it just opened a new door into the past. Namely having her portrait done by Michael Dumont, a high school crush she thought she’d left behind years ago. At one time he was everything she wanted in her life. Now he is everything she hates in a man.
When a man she put in jail five years ago blows into town, Janis finds herself a marked woman with Michael the only man she can turn to for help. With a vicious killer hot on their trail, Janis and Michael find themselves running headlong into danger and just maybe love.
A taste of the Blues
Then it hit
her. All she needed to do was just sleep with him and get over it. She was
simply using him as the focus for her frustration. Yes, she was frustrated! Six
years without a man tended to do strange things to a woman's equilibrium. To
make it even more pathetic, the last time hadn't exactly been all explosions
and rockets bursting in midair. In fact, she couldn't even remember a
firecracker going off anywhere in the room, so as far as she was concerned it
didn't happen. If she gave into her urges, they would go away. It was classic
psychology. Take the treat and the desire goes away.
Big talk while you're hiding in bed but
you'll never do it.
Janis knew she
couldn't seduce Michael. She wouldn't become one of 'those women'. She had too
much self-respect for herself to become a Desperate
Housewife. But if the opportunity presented itself, would she turn it down?
The thought fluttered through her mind, bringing forth a horde of images making
her go weak in the knees. Good thing she was still in bed or Michael would come
in to find her a quivering blob on the floor. Janis brushed away the thin sheen
of sweat miraculously appearing on her brow and sat up. God, she was returning
to her teenager years, with all the raging hormones to go with it.
Janis fumbled
with her watch. It was 1:52. She had been in her room for over two hours. Oh
yeah! She was acting so grown up.
She knew
Wallace was gone. He'd left shortly after she had torn both of them a new one
in the kitchen. So, at least he didn't know she had spent half the afternoon
brooding in her room. She was, at least, spared the shame of the silent tsk-tsk
under his breath.
Michael, on the
other hand, knew. She must have put the fear of God into him, because he hadn't
made a peep the entire time she'd barricaded herself up in here.
What if he left
with Wallace? No, he wouldn't leave her alone in the house with Bettis on the
loose. He was out there. Michael was just too afraid to show his face. She
couldn't blame him if he was. Janis had done a damn fine job of turning into
the Wicked Bitch of the South, and gone all Psycho on him.
Maybe he was in
the studio. She sincerely hoped so. She had to use the bathroom and didn't want
to run into him just yet. Janis crept up to the door and cracked it open enough
to see if there was any sign of him moving about. No sign of him. She opened
the door wider. The door to the studio sat closed. She heard his radio blaring
through the closed door. Good, he must be holed up in there, painting or
whatever he wanted to call it. It seemed safe enough to venture out of her
room. In spite of her thoughts of bravely facing her fears, Janis figured she
could handle doing it easier with an empty bladder and a few more minutes to
work up her courage.
Taking one last
look toward the studio, Janis shot from the door and made a beeline for the
bathroom. As quick as she could, Janis swung the bathroom door open, ducking in
just in time to see Michael stepping from the shower.
Her body
stopped working, as she drank in the sight of him. Luckily for her, he had his
head covered by a towel, which he was using to vigorously dry his head that
made his body dance in unspeakable perfection. Every muscle in his well-formed body
rippled from the jerky movements. Janis knew she could dart out leaving Michel
none the wiser. The plan, while good in theory, had no chance in hell of
working. To her ultimate shame, Janis' feet had become inconveniently frozen in
place.
For more of the Blues, all you have to do is stop by the Desert
Breeze Publishing Website for your chance to get some down home Southern charm
with a heaping dish of danger on the side.
