Living Inspired!

So, I’ve put out two novels Merger and Merger Undone, Saying Yes is on the chopping block with some agents and publishers, I’m writing Merger Complete as we speak, Prescription for Love (my NaNoWriMo book) is at 50% and wouldn’t you know…I woke up two days ago and had the beginning of an entire story in my head. I sat down and wrote a whopping 7000 words (part of it’s below). Some days I’m more inspired than others, but I work at this authoring business as hard as I have any job. Some days I think I work it harder because I can feel the success of holding the book in my hand or having someone tell me how much they enjoyed the story and can’t wait for the sequel.

I have to admit, that there are times when things flow so well I don’t want to stop. Then there are days when it seems like the words are a struggle to get out. Or, I think…well crap…that’s not working. And when that happens it feels like an “ouch” moment because more times than less it’s a re-write or god forbid, trashing whole paragraphs and chapters. I will tell you this. I have file for every book I’ve written that’s strictly for edits. I have found places were old material will work. I never just merely trash anything that I’ve written unless it’s just a few sentences. The words are too hard to create to just hit “delete” and move forward.

Today, I’m inspired that I have people that like my books, have positive things to say about my work and stay in touch with what I’m doing through all of my social media sites. What good is all this for if no one wants to read the work. Thanks for coming along on this journey.

For an Inspired Thursday treat. I’m going to give you an excerpt from the manuscript that flew out of me two days ago. I don’t really have a title, but saved it in my files as “Desired.” It probably won’t stick, but it’s all I had at the time. Enjoy!

DESIRED

By Heather M. Miles

It was the stupidest move yet, but I’d said no so many times before that I was growing tired of hearing myself utter the word. Over the course of months he’d worn me down. Now that I was in his arms I knew finally saying “yes” was going to be my greatest downfall. Just the way his warm hand skimmed my waist and settled on the small of my back. How instead of just holding my hand he wove his fingers through mine with the familiarity that was known to lovers, not acquaintances. The air, what little that hadn’t been siphoned from between us, was thick and heavy with unspoken words. Making me feel caged and wanted under the gaze of his auburn eyes. On further inspection, when I had the guts to look directly at him, they were laced with faint specks of gold and a hint of green. I’d heard that his eyes alone would have me melting like smooth, rich chocolate. And while I wasn’t pooling at his feet yet, my flesh was hot and my stomach was knotted so tight I was sure I wasn’t breathing.

He pulled me closer and I purposely pulled back. Not breaking the stride of our dance but reassuring myself that if I could just fight the closeness that this song would come to an end and I’d find the much needed distance between Stannis and myself. The broad, toothy smile that beamed over perfect white teeth almost caused me to shut my eyes. He was too pretty for a man. The thick waves of brown hair that sat just a little too long, made him look like the rebel I believed he was. His prominent cheek bones sat behind flawless skin and the dimples that dotted his cheeks when he smiled made you want to drive your tongue in them. He was a hot as they came and he knew it. He managed it skillfully to entice and mesmerize you like a snake charmer to a venomous cobra. The fact that he was rich and a well-known purebred in his business life, social life, and sex life, made it that much worse.

He giggled at me like my efforts to deny him the intimacy of being pressed against him were pointless. I’d finally been caught and now I’d submit to his will, even if it were only for the span of a five minute Sinatra song. He spun me effortlessly on the meticulously polished parquet floor. I was suddenly grateful that my mother had invested so much in dancing lessons. Even if I didn’t want Stannis, impressing him was a whole other matter.

“Oh, Hazy. I do adore your tenacity to deny me even the slightest inkling of attention,” he said leaning into my face. His breath smelled of mint and expensive, sweet bourbon. But, it was his cologne that wafted over me like a threatening tidal wave that would take me under. It was woody and masculine, but clean and all Stannis. I could feel the heat of his mouth graze my cheek as he made his way to my ear. “But your body is giving you away, gorgeous. The more you push away, the more I want to pull you in. It’s only a matter of time.”

The flood of his words matched the pool of wetness that seeped over the seam of my thong and goosebumps threaded every inch of exposed skin.

“You’re so cocky, Stannis. You can pull all you want. I’m sure it hurts your ego to know not every woman wants to be bedded by you.” I chided.

“Bedded?” he chuckled and playfully nipped my ear with his teeth, sending a shock of heat straight to my core. I felt the tingling nervousness of my lie grow in my belly. Why was this song not ending? Any longer and it would be more than my body that would give me away.

Sadly, the bridesmaid dress that was selected for me by my best friend left little to the imagination. Chiffon, in a beautiful wisteria lavender, cut into a high and low sweeping halter that caressed my lean neck but left my arms and back exposed. It was full-length and draped to the floor. Every one of Candice’s, bridesmaids wore the same color, but each of us in different styles. Theirs were a bit more conservative. Excluding one, Abby, whose dress was no more than a halter and cut up both sides revealing her tennis toned legs. But, she loved the attention of having men look at her and her fashion sense spoke volumes in her endeavors. High cut, low cut, sheer or barely there - modesty wasn’t her strong suit.

When I slipped on the Maid-of-Honor dress, my eyes were as wide as saucers for two reasons. One, there was no way in the world I could wear a bra without looking like a complete dipshit and two, I looked like an ethereal Roman goddess. The dress, not of my choosing, couldn’t have fit any better over my lean, toned frame and set my olive, sun-kissed skin aglow. It was stunning to say the very least, but revealing was an understatement. Just the brush of cold air was enough to highlight my modest breast and protruding nipples. My effort to cover them with some ridiculous pasties was less than effective when they fell off an hour into the reception. I didn’t know which would be worse, the full-beam of my budding breasts or having a less than adhesive nipple petal fall out on the floor. Or, worse yet, attach itself to some foreign body part like a decorative nicotine patch. Since I had never smoked, my best friend ripped the last of the adhesive from my areolas and set me free. She was all giggles when she reached into both sides of my arm slits and pulled them off with the enthusiasm of a persnickety mother who was always prodding and poking her child into meticulousness. I knew it well.

His fingers moved up the exposed stretch of my knotted spine and threaded around the nape of my neck. He fondled the three pearl buttons that held up the top of my dress. “You wouldn’t dare,” I said brushing my cheek against his just to screw with his head like he was screwing with mine.

“Wouldn’t I.” The first button was popped easily beneath his skilled fingers. I looked into his seductive eyes. “I don’t buy the lie Hazel. So, take it back.”

It was a dangerous game, but I wouldn’t be the first to fold. “Which lie was that?” I played dumb. Then to further toy with his ego, I drug my hand from his waist up to the hard plane of his rippling abdomen and settled my palm under his black silk and satin, Armani tuxedo coat. It hugged him with precision and was no doubt, expensive and custom tailored. The move up his body garnered me the slip of a moan. “That you’re cocky?” I said.

The second button was unclasped and he twisted his fingers around the fishtail braid of my blonde hair. Using it as leverage to tilt my head back and demand the truth my eyes couldn’t hide. I was done for but wouldn’t look away. “No, beautiful. The one about not wanting to be bedded by me.”

As if on cue, the song slowly faded out. But, as I tried to free myself from the blanket of lust that had seeped between us like thick honey, Stannis feathered his lips over mine. It was instinct to shut my eyes, but the gentle purr that filtered out of my mouth came from left field. Shit! Fuck! Damn!

“There’s my beautiful liar.” I could feel the curve of his smile as he called me out. “Make no mistake bedding you will be my greatest achievement.”

“It will be a cold day in hell,” I whispered as my eyes fluttered open and I pushed back from his chest. My words and refusal only fueled him further. He pulled me back into his sturdy arms, pressing his chest to mine and looked down into my fertile eyes.

“I’ve never been to hell, Hazel, but if it’s as hot as you are I’ll take my chances.” His lips crashed down over mine with fervor and unbridled desire. He was a virile man who’d been made to wait desperately for a woman who was out of reach but was now close at hand. I struggled to maintain the last of my fleeting resolve, but the “melting” I’d been warned about had already begun. His slick, warm tongue found mine and the smooth, passionate dance that ensued was powerful and claiming. His kiss was like making love, fucking and a triple orgasm all rolled into one. I was powerless not to be consumed by the one man I’d warned off at all cost. I knew given an inch, he’d take a mile and here I was giving him the whole stretch of road that led to my heart. Or, at the very least the throbbing apex between my thighs.

I eased my mouth from the rapture of his soft, luscious lips and with his hand still around my neck, his forehead met mine. His soulful eyes bathed me with yearning. “You’re mine. Fight all you want.”

Here's what I'm listening to - John Legend's TONIGHT