Why I Love Just Wright
I watched Just Wright for the gazillionth time this weekend. It’s one of my favorite RomComs, a feel good movie about a curvy physical therapist who falls in love with the hunky basketball player she’s helping to recover from a career-threatening injury.
Yes, it is a fantasy (why would a top basketball player listen to his jealous girlfriend and hire an unknown physical therapist?) but the characters, especially Leslie (played by Queen Latifah), spoke to me. I could relate to her. I felt her pain.
Leslie meets Scott, the hero before he’s injured (Scott is played by the yummy Common – who was very nice to me when I met him at the Consumer Electronics Show years ago). There’s immediate chemistry between them but she’s so accustomed to being the ‘friend’, the woman guys like but don’t lust after, she doesn’t take it seriously.
When Morgan (played by Paula Patton), her good looking, size nothing friend, goes after Scott and lands him, Leslie steps aside. She hasn’t known Scott for very long and she simply assumes she doesn’t have a chance with him.
Because that is what many of us curvy girls do. We assume that handsome, super fit, super nice guys want the more socially acceptable size nothing women (in the case of Scott and my Dear Wonderful Hubby, that isn’t true). And when we step aside, the men usually see this as a sign we’re not truly interested in them and they DO walk away.
Which is exactly what Scott does in this movie.
And Leslie merely shrugs her shoulders and moves on. I love that she isn’t the bitter perma-single curvy girl. She knows (what she believes is) her place in the world and she’s okay with that.
Leslie is also aware of her own worth. She knows she can get a man tomorrow. She is waiting for THE man, the man who will capture her heart.
And our girl has her own life to live. She has a house that she’s constantly fixing up, a job that she loves, and she’s a dedicated basketball fan. She doesn’t need Scott. She wants him. There’s a big difference between the two.
I thought the love triangle was handled well and semi-realistically. Scott made some frustrating choices but I understood why he made them. He maintained his nice guy status throughout those choices.
I loved how Leslie was devastated during the dark moment but she didn’t crumble. She went on with her life, focusing on her career. I cheered when she questioned the hero after he came to his senses. She doesn’t blindly forgive him.
There were some silly moments (her rolling in his bed) and some WTF moments (her job situation at the end of the movies – that is definitely a conflict) but, overall, I really enjoyed this movie…which is why I watched it for the gazillionth time (grins).
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
He wants one night. I want forever.
Hit it and quit it—that’s Smoke Sheridan’s relationship philosophy. The tall, dark, and dangerous club owner never spends more than one night with any woman. He seduces the broken-hearted, leaving them with smiles on their faces and a sexual confidence other men can’t resist.
I need his services.
My boyfriend of four years dumped me because I’m a lousy lay. Smoke can help me win him back, teach me how to make my man writhe in ecstasy. I’ll show him such bliss, he’ll bellow my name in the dark of the night, want me with an all-consuming desire.
This sounds like a great plan. Except I see the loneliness in Smoke’s eyes, feel the wistfulness in his touch, experience the wanting in his embrace. The player isn’t as shallow as he appears.
And I’ve never been good at letting go.
One And Done contains inappropriate humor, very bad pickup lines, a BBW heroine who doesn’t know what she’s doing and a player who thinks he does.
This is a standalone story.
Buy Now:
On Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-oneanddone-2040641-340.html
On Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-and-done-cynthia-sax/1123809444
On Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/one-and-done-1
Topics: Guest Post | Comments Off on Why I Love Just Wright
One And Done – Fifth Scene
One And Done is releasing on July 19th (it is available for pre-order now) and I’m sharing the first two chapters of this 300 page plus contemporary erotic romance.
Read the first scene here: http://tasteofcyn.com/2016/06/06/one-and-done-first-scene/
The taxi driver drops me off in front of a cube-shaped building. A spotlight illuminates the sign on its roof. Smoke. The name sounds familiar. This club must belong to one of Edward’s clients.
I study the structure. It’s situated on prime real estate. The property taxes must be hefty. The utilities bill would be high also.
The frosted windows are brightly lit, silhouettes of women appearing on the glass. There’s exactly one dancer per frame, perfectly placed.
That must be their job—to dance in windows. How were they chosen? Did they go to school for this?
I picture a stuffy tweed-garbed professor standing at the front of a classroom, droning on and on about the ideal speed to shake one’s ass and my lips twitch.
The training process, whatever it was, worked. The dancers are accomplishing their goal—to attract guests. A crowd circles the club. The line to get into the club stretches along the paved perimeter.
As I study the club goers, two scantily clad waifs wobble toward the biggest, broadest man I’ve ever seen. He’s imposing, as large as the door he’s guarding, his arms crossed, his feet braced apart.
I clasp my tin of cookies tighter, daunted by his size.
The girls either don’t have the sense to be intimidated or they don’t care. They giggle and smile, teetering on their high heels, one strong breeze away from falling over.
The doorman listens to their nonsense for a minute or two, his darkening expression hinting at his irritation. Just when I’m convinced he’ll deny them, sending their bony asses to the back of the line, he unclips the velvet rope, his bulging biceps straining the seams of his ill-fitting black blazer.
The doorman waves the girls into the building and refastens the velvet rope, acting as though he hasn’t seen the dozens of people standing in line along the sidewalk.
Groans rise from the club kids. And club kids is the right description. These infants are predominantly male and young, so damn young, their faces round and smooth, their bodies not yet filled out with muscle and time.
They smell of cheap cologne and desperation, as though not getting into this club tonight will result in a lifetime alone. I remember that feeling, only too well.
Thank God, I have Edward now. I no longer have to worry about hooking up, no longer have to sift through hundreds of would-be players to find one worthy man. I’ve already met the love of my life, the future father of my children.
Eager to see that wonderful man, I stride to the front of the line.
“Uh-oh Dave, your mom is here,” one of the club kids yells. His sneer makes him appear more cute than fierce.
I doubt he’s legal. He looks like he’s ten, not the required nineteen.
“Fuck you,” a pretty blond child cusses. The two jostle each other, jabbing stomachs with elbows.
I ignore them and their insults. Edward loves me the way I am. His opinion is all that matters.
“Good evening.” I smile at the doorman. His grumpy expression doesn’t change. “I’m meeting my boyfriend, Edward Langston. He’s already inside.” I step forward.
The doorman shifts to the left, blocking me. “The line is to your right, ma’am.”
I glance over my shoulder. I’m not waiting in line. That could take hours.
“I’ll call him.” I dig my phone out of my pocket. “He’ll come and get me.”
“If he leaves the building, I can’t allow him back inside.”
“What?” I stare at the doorman.
“Those are the rules, ma’am.” The big man shrugs. “No re-entry.”
“You don’t understand.” He mustn’t or he’d let me in. “Edward is here for business. He’s a lawyer.”
“I don’t care if he’s the Queen of England.” The doorman sounds as exasperated as I feel. “He won’t be allowed back into the club. Join the end of the line. We’re at capacity.”
I glance at the line. There are wrappers from Bob’s Burger Barn and disposable cups from trendy coffee shops scattered around the club kids’ feet. They’ve been waiting for a while.
I don’t have time for this. “I—”
“Join the end of the line, ma’am.” The doorman gestures in that direction.
“Moove along, lady,” Dave, the club kid, yells, setting off a wave of moos and increasingly ignorant comments.
The doorman is doing the world a favor, not allowing these creatures to breed.
I’m thankful once again that I have Edward, a man who appreciates me, who sees past my dress size. I don’t belong in this club.
As though the universe wishes to drive this realization home, a trio of bleary-eyed size-nothing blondes approach us. “Hi, Tyrice.” The head blonde waves at the bodyguard. “Is it bring-your-mom-to-work day?” The other girls giggle.
Was I ever that young?
Or thin?
Or stupid?
Tyrice the doorman and I are on the opposite sides of the skin tone spectrum. He’s as dark as I am pale. Either she’s assuming Tyrice is adopted or she’s as dumb as she appears.
The man grunts and lets the idiotic trio through the door. The kids waiting in line express their unhappiness. My gaze follows the girls’ scrawny frames.
Calling their outfits lingerie would be greatly overstating the amount of fabric used. Their skirts are so short I see the folds under their ass cheeks.
I’m wearing my long coat.
I’m the idiot. Of course, Tyrice won’t allow me into the club. He doesn’t think I’m suitably dressed. I shrug out of the coat and fold it over one arm.
“Put it back on,” one of the club kids yells.
“She’s blinded me.”
I disregard the rude comments, keeping my attention on Tyrice. The doorman’s gaze sweeps over me.
Is that a glint of approval I see in his eyes?
“Is this better?” I beam at him, trying to ignore the fact that I’m standing on a sidewalk in downtown Toronto wearing a babydoll, boy shorts and heels.
“That’s much better.” His voice deepens. “But I still can’t let you in, ma’am.”
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
He wants one night. I want forever.
Hit it and quit it—that’s Smoke Sheridan’s relationship philosophy. The tall, dark, and dangerous club owner never spends more than one night with any woman. He seduces the broken-hearted, leaving them with smiles on their faces and a sexual confidence other men can’t resist.
I need his services.
My boyfriend of four years dumped me because I’m a lousy lay. Smoke can help me win him back, teach me how to make my man writhe in ecstasy. I’ll show him such bliss, he’ll bellow my name in the dark of the night, want me with an all-consuming desire.
This sounds like a great plan. Except I see the loneliness in Smoke’s eyes, feel the wistfulness in his touch, experience the wanting in his embrace. The player isn’t as shallow as he appears.
And I’ve never been good at letting go.
One And Done contains inappropriate humor, very bad pickup lines, a BBW heroine who doesn’t know what she’s doing and a player who thinks he does.
This is a standalone story.
Buy Now:
On Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-oneanddone-2040641-340.html
On Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-and-done-cynthia-sax/1123809444
On Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/one-and-done-1
Topics: Coming Soon | Comments Off on One And Done – Fifth Scene
One And Done – Fourth Scene
One And Done is releasing on July 19th (it is available for pre-order now) and I’m sharing the first two chapters of this 300 page plus contemporary erotic romance.
Read the first scene here: http://tasteofcyn.com/2016/06/06/one-and-done-first-scene/
The next subway station—Osgoode—is mine. I exit, thankfully, alone. The flasher, my new friend, doesn’t follow me. I guess exposing himself along a street lined with law firms and a courthouse is too brazen even for him.
I stride to the building Edward works in, push my way though the glass revolving doors and enter the lobby. The space smells of bleach, the white tiled floor gleaming.
“Watch your step, Miss Jenelly.” Craig, the nighttime security guard, calls out from his post behind the reception desk. “The floor’s still wet.”
“I w—” I skid and flail my arms in the air, barely keeping upright. “I will.” I regain my footing and smile, feeling like an idiot. “Thank you.”
“You’re a hoot.” Craig laughs, his belly, encased in a tight gray uniform, jiggling. “I haven’t seen you in a while. I thought you were avoiding me.”
“Why would you think that?” I open the tin and offer him a cookie.
Craig peruses the selection and chooses the largest one. “Mr. Langston has been meeting you outside the office all this week.” He bites into the cookie, chews. “Usually you come in and say hello to me.”
I frown. “Edward has been working late all this week.” Hasn’t he? Doubt flickers inside me, which is ridiculous because Edward has never lied to me. “That’s why I’m here.” I close the cookie tin. “I want to surprise him.”
It’s Craig’s turn to frown. “But you saw him at dinner.”
“At dinner?” We haven’t eaten dinner together in months.
“Yeah.” The security guard’s forehead furrows. “I overheard Mr. Langston tell Mr. Barron, one of the partners, that he was meeting you for dinner at Paros. That’s a nice place.”
Paros is a nice place, the type of restaurant a lawyer wanting to impress clients would eat at. I relax. “He must have been meeting with a client.”
The lines on Craig’s face deepen. “He specifically said he was treating his woman to a romantic dinner for two.”
Many people walk through the law firm’s doors. Craig must have mixed up his conversations. I decide to be the bigger person, literally, and drop the issue. “Has Edward returned from that dinner?”
“Not yet.” The security guard pops the last piece of cookie into his mouth. “Are you certain he wasn’t meeting with you?”
Would I be here if he had met with me? “I’m certain.” I suppress my irritation. It’s not the security guard’s fault I’ve misplaced my boyfriend.
I’ve misplaced my boyfriend. This gives me an idea.
I dig my phone out of my pocket and select the tracker app. A year ago, after Edward lost his phone for the fifth time in five days, he gave me permission to trace its whereabouts.
The results are instant, an address appearing on the screen. His phone is currently at 240 Adelaide Street West, in the heart of the entertainment district. The last of my foolish fears fade. Some of Edward’s newest clients own bars and restaurants. He must be visiting the locations for work. Perhaps he’s doing research.
I could assist with this research. For the last nine years, I’ve worked for Powers Corporation, a Toronto real estate company. I’ll share my insights on real estate prices, utilities, property taxes, and other related expenses, prove to him once again that we make a great team, that I can help his career.
Then I’ll ditch the coat and show him I can please him in other ways. I smile. The sexual tension inside me will dissipate. He’ll fall even deeper in love with me, commit to me, to us, completely.
I glance down at my ringless left hand. This could prompt him to propose, to make our relationship even more permanent. We’ll be one step closer to having that big family I dream of, a love-filled buffer against an often tumultuous world.
“Craig?”
“Yes, Miss Jenelly?”
“Could you call me a cab?”
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
He wants one night. I want forever.
Hit it and quit it—that’s Smoke Sheridan’s relationship philosophy. The tall, dark, and dangerous club owner never spends more than one night with any woman. He seduces the broken-hearted, leaving them with smiles on their faces and a sexual confidence other men can’t resist.
I need his services.
My boyfriend of four years dumped me because I’m a lousy lay. Smoke can help me win him back, teach me how to make my man writhe in ecstasy. I’ll show him such bliss, he’ll bellow my name in the dark of the night, want me with an all-consuming desire.
This sounds like a great plan. Except I see the loneliness in Smoke’s eyes, feel the wistfulness in his touch, experience the wanting in his embrace. The player isn’t as shallow as he appears.
And I’ve never been good at letting go.
One And Done contains inappropriate humor, very bad pickup lines, a BBW heroine who doesn’t know what she’s doing and a player who thinks he does.
This is a standalone story.
Buy Now:
On Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-oneanddone-2040641-340.html
On Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-and-done-cynthia-sax/1123809444
On Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/one-and-done-1
Topics: Coming Soon | Comments Off on One And Done – Fourth Scene
One And Done – Third Scene
One And Done is releasing on July 19th (it is available for pre-order now) and I’m sharing the first two chapters of this 300 page plus contemporary erotic romance.
Read the first scene here: http://tasteofcyn.com/2016/06/06/one-and-done-first-scene/
It takes Azure an hour to fix my hair and another thirty minutes to push me out the door. I hold the coat closed with one hand as I walk along the hallway. Although it’s fully buttoned, I don’t trust the garment.
The elevator is empty.
There’s no security guard at the entrance of the building. That’s normal. The station positioned there is purely for show. I’ve never seen anyone sit in that chair.
I exit.
Woofer is waiting outside the doors.
It doesn’t matter when I leave or when I return. The kid is always lurking around the front doors, handing out the free daily papers. I feed him as often as I can and give him my spare change. It isn’t enough but I don’t know what else to do.
I’m achingly aware that, if it weren’t for family, for people who loved me, I could have been Woofer. I could have been homeless.
When I was seven years old, the biggest paper mill in Thunder Bay, my hometown, closed. My dad, along with thousands of other people, was laid off. He swallowed his pride and applied for every job available—minimum wage positions at fast-food restaurants, night shifts at telemarketing companies.
No one hired him.
Months passed. My dad’s car disappeared. Weeks later, the minivan vanished. A stranger picked up the TV. Another man took my dad’s tools.
My parents tried to hide their concern, making our precarious situation seem like an adventure, but I felt their fear, their stress. I saw the slump of my dad’s shoulders as he returned from another long day of job hunting.
My mom, after working an equally grueling double shift at her low-paying cashier position, would patiently rebuild his confidence, caring for him, her belief in her husband, my dad, unshakable.
Then, one day, we returned home to find the front door of our bungalow padlocked, a huge foreclosure notice plastered to the wood.
“We’ve lost everything.” The anguish in my mom’s voice shocked me. She was normally so strong, so calm. I’d never seen her break down.
Her reaction made the situation even more real. We were homeless, without a place to stay, to sleep, our clothes, my toys, books, trapped behind that locked door.
I shook, more scared than I’d ever been in my short life.
“We didn’t lose everything, love.” My dad hooked his right arm around my mom’s waist, drawing her to him. He rested his left hand on my shoulder. The warmth of his palm permeated my thin cotton shirt, soothing my terror. “We have each other.” He paused, forcing a smile, a bleakness in his eyes. “And we have family. We’ll always have a place to stay.”
He was right. When we showed up on Grandma Whyte’s doorstep, she took one look at my dad’s face, muttered something about proud fools, and ushered us into her four-bedroom home, telling us we could stay as long as we needed.
We’d have to earn our keep, she stressed as she mixed a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies, my dad’s favorite treat. He would be responsible for maintaining the yard, clearing the driveway of snow in the winter and for completing repairs around the house. My mom would be in charge of the cleaning and the laundry. I’d help Grandma Whyte with the baking.
My dad eventually found a job but we never moved out. We lived with my grandma until she died. She’d become my confidant, my best friend, and I howled for a week after the funeral.
Grandma Whyte left the house to my parents. I inherited her recipe box, the papers inside stained brown with the vanilla extract she made herself.
The recipe I used to make the chocolate chip cookies for Edward and for Woofer had been written on one of those papers, in her familiar scrawl.
“You just missed a Ferrari, Miss ‘Nella.” The car-crazy kid shakes with excitement. “A 488 GTB, red, mint-condition, 3.9-liter V8 engine, two turbochargers.”
“That sounds powerful.” Knowing nothing about cars, I try to look suitably impressed. “Don’t wait here all night for it to drive past again.” I muss the boy’s unruly mop of black hair. “Get to a shelter before they fill up.”
“Shelters are for old people,” he grumbles, bumping against me.
“Shelters are for all people.” I hand him a paper bag stuffed with two turkey sandwiches, heavy on the vegetable fixings, a bottle of orange juice, and the cookies. “What do I get for this?” Woofer doesn’t accept charity. He has his pride also.
“Since you got your paper already, I guess it’ll have to be a hug, but I don’t like it.”
He lies. He loves it. The kid is starved for touch.
“Then give it to me.” I open my arms. He squeezes me, thumping the bag against my back. I hug him to me. He allows this embrace for a couple of heartwarming moments before wriggling away from me.
“Did you make oatmeal raisin?” He looks in the bag.
“Chocolate chip.”
“You made these cookies for him.” Woofer scowls. When the kid first appeared at his post, about a year ago, he mouthed off to me, in typical teenager style. Being protective of me, Edward took offense. He threatened to call the cops and have the kid arrested. Woofer hasn’t forgiven him.
“I made the sandwiches especially for you.” I give him one more quick hug, which earns me a grimace and some under-the-breath cussing. “I don’t want to see lettuce and tomatoes on the sidewalk when I get back.”
I ignore his grumbles and walk toward the subway station.
There’s the usual collection of homeless people gathered around the entrance. Some of them are the same age as my dad was when he lost his job.
I say hi to them, addressing the men and women I know by name, and enter the underground.
The train arrives almost immediately. I select a seat near the door and I gaze around me. It’s a hot summer night. The air conditioning in the car is under strain, whirring loudly.
I’m the only person in the subway car wearing a coat. Many of the women are wearing short skirts and sleeveless shirts. A couple of the men are in shorts.
Why am I doing this?
Edward loves me, wants me, needs me. We haven’t seen each other during these past two weeks because his work has been crazy. I don’t have to dress like an actress in a very bad porno film to garner his attention. I’ve had it since the very first moment we met.
Edward and I had both been attending a fancy charity gala. I wasn’t supposed to be there. My billionaire boss had been called out of town at the last minute. There had been an emergency involving one of the company’s low-income housing projects.
Mr. Powers had sent me to the gala in his stead, entrusting me with the task of relaying his very generous donation to the hostess. Edward had been given a ticket by Mr. Barron, one of the partners at his firm.
I knew very few of the guests. Edward knew no one. Arianna, our hostess, introduced us. Edward looked dashing in a black tuxedo, the lights shining on his blond hair, his eyes the lightest shade of blue.
He took my hand, bent his head, and gallantly kissed my fingertips. My heart skipped a beat. It was so romantic. When Arianna flitted to her next guests, moving out of earshot, he declared I was the prettiest girl in the room.
And that was it. I was a goner, head over heels. No man had ever said those words to me. No one had ever looked at me as though I was the center of his universe.
These past two weeks, he’s been working hard, trying to get ahead for me, for us, for our future. I have to be understanding, appreciative.
Sweat drips down my spine, slips between my ass cheeks.
A trio of blue-jean-wearing, spike-haired tough guys move in front of me. They’re clad in T-shirts, their bared arms tanned and tattooed. The tallest one looks my way, his mouth moves and they all laugh.
I set the tin of cookies on my lap and run my palms over my borrowed coat, ensuring the buttons remain fastened, that there are no gaps in the material, revealing my clothing…or lack thereof underneath.
They can’t see anything. It’s sweltering and I’m overdressed, and they might suspect I’m up to something but they don’t know what that something is.
The subway car’s doors slide open at St. Andrew station. A gray-haired man wearing a long, tan, trench coat enters. He shuffles between the seats.
My shoulders lower. I’m not the only one overdressed.
The man sits on the seat across from me. His legs spread and his coat gaps open, revealing hairy bare legs. I blink. Under the trench coat, he’s sporting brown loafers, long white sport socks with red stripes around the cuffs.
Oh my God. That’s the uniform of flashers everywhere.
The man is naked under his coat.
Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.
I can’t control my eyeballs. My gaze lifts and meets his. The man nods at me and has the audacity to wink, as though we share a dirty secret.
My face heats. He thinks I’m a fellow flasher, that I plan to expose myself, to show my naked body to unsuspecting men and women.
I’m going to kill Azure.
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
He wants one night. I want forever.
Hit it and quit it—that’s Smoke Sheridan’s relationship philosophy. The tall, dark, and dangerous club owner never spends more than one night with any woman. He seduces the broken-hearted, leaving them with smiles on their faces and a sexual confidence other men can’t resist.
I need his services.
My boyfriend of four years dumped me because I’m a lousy lay. Smoke can help me win him back, teach me how to make my man writhe in ecstasy. I’ll show him such bliss, he’ll bellow my name in the dark of the night, want me with an all-consuming desire.
This sounds like a great plan. Except I see the loneliness in Smoke’s eyes, feel the wistfulness in his touch, experience the wanting in his embrace. The player isn’t as shallow as he appears.
And I’ve never been good at letting go.
One And Done contains inappropriate humor, very bad pickup lines, a BBW heroine who doesn’t know what she’s doing and a player who thinks he does.
This is a standalone story.
Buy Now:
On Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-oneanddone-2040641-340.html
On Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-and-done-cynthia-sax/1123809444
On Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/one-and-done-1
Topics: Coming Soon | Comments Off on One And Done – Third Scene
Fathers In Romance – One And Done
Tomorrow is Father’s Day in North America. There are many types of dads in Romanceland. Some have biological children. Some have adopted children. Some become dads in nontraditional ways.
In One And Done, Smoke chooses to become a father figure to Woofer, a street kid. Woofer, a teenager, is mouthy and moody, a kid others might find difficult to love.
Here’s a scene from One And Done
A little over two hours later, Nana Zaire has moved to a bench positioned in a sunny spot in the secluded backyard. “He won’t be easy to love.”
“No, he won’t be.” I’m not certain whether she’s referring to the man or to the boy leaning over the Lamborghini’s engine. It doesn’t matter. The same observation applies to both of them. “We’re taking it one minute at a time.”
“He needs to hear those words but they’re just words, aren’t they? You’re already talking about making dinner rolls for next week and cupcakes for Lucy’s birthday.”
She’s right. I can’t live purely in the present. “I’m trying.”
“He is too.” Nana Zaire nods at Smoke. “And he realizes he’s difficult. That’s why he brought you here.” She pats my hands. “You’ll need my help. You have my number.” She gave it to me after dinner. “You know where I live. You’re welcome here anytime.”
“Thank you.” I can’t imagine Edward’s mother ever making me this offer. “If you need any help, I’m here for you too.”
“I’m counting on that.” She turns her head, watches Smoke and Woofer fiddle with the sports car, their shoulders touching.
Woofer’s mouth constantly moves, as do his hands. Smoke deflects a waving wrench as it threatens to clunk against the immaculate paint job. The boy doesn’t notice this close call.
“I should talk to Woofer.” He’ll damage Smoke’s pretty car.
“No, you shouldn’t.” Nana Zaire stops me. “Smoke understands. Zanders, my husband, was a proud audiophile, a purist. He had a huge collection of LPs, premium vinyl, rare records that were difficult to find.”
“Smoke smashed it.” I don’t need to hear the entire story to know how it ends.
“If he told you that, he’s even more serious about you than I thought.” She studies me. “Smoke takes his pain out on inanimate objects. He doesn’t harm people.”
“I know.” He’d never hurt me, not physically. Smoke removes the wrench from Woofer’s hands and closes the hood. “The hurt has to go somewhere.”
“True.” Nana Zaire nods. “How does Woofer deal with it?”
“He works.” I consider my history with the boy more closely. “And he acts like he doesn’t care but he does, very much.”
“They all do.”
Smoke strides toward us, rubbing his hands on a rag. Woofer follows him, attempting to imitate his swagger. They’re so damn adorable.
I love them both.
“I’ll take you inside, Nana Zaire.” Smoke reaches down and lifts her to her feet, handling the elderly woman as though she’s a delicate piece of fine china. “Woofer, you have something to say to Miss Jenella.”
“Yes, sir.” He scowls behind Smoke’s back and crosses his thin arms, unhappiness radiating from him.
My lips twitch. I must be receiving an apology.
Judging by Woofer’s expression, it will be the most ungracious request for forgiveness anyone has ever received.
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
He wants one night. I want forever.
Hit it and quit it—that’s Smoke Sheridan’s relationship philosophy. The tall, dark, and dangerous club owner never spends more than one night with any woman. He seduces the broken-hearted, leaving them with smiles on their faces and a sexual confidence other men can’t resist.
I need his services.
My boyfriend of four years dumped me because I’m a lousy lay. Smoke can help me win him back, teach me how to make my man writhe in ecstasy. I’ll show him such bliss, he’ll bellow my name in the dark of the night, want me with an all-consuming desire.
This sounds like a great plan. Except I see the loneliness in Smoke’s eyes, feel the wistfulness in his touch, experience the wanting in his embrace. The player isn’t as shallow as he appears.
And I’ve never been good at letting go.
One And Done contains inappropriate humor, very bad pickup lines, a BBW heroine who doesn’t know what she’s doing and a player who thinks he does.
This is a standalone story.
Buy Now:
On Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-oneanddone-2040641-340.html
On Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-and-done-cynthia-sax/1123809444
On Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/one-and-done-1
Topics: Coming Soon | 1 Comment »
One And Done – Second Scene
One And Done is releasing on July 19th (it is available for pre-order now) and I’m sharing the first two chapters of this 300 page plus contemporary erotic romance.
Read the first scene here: http://tasteofcyn.com/2016/06/06/one-and-done-first-scene/
She picks up a piece of cookie and contemplates it for a moment. “I really thought you and Steady Eddy would last.”
God. Are we back to that again?
“We’re lasting.” I pack cookies into an empty candy tin, choosing the best-looking specimens. Three of the cookies have already been enclosed in plastic wrap and placed in the care package I’ve put together for Woofer, the street kid stationed downstairs. “Couples can’t spend every minute together. Life happens.”
“Breakups happen.”
“We’re not breaking up.” I love him. He loves me. “If anything, we’ll be stronger for this. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say.”
“Absence makes the heart go yonder, as they also say.” Azure smacks the cookie I’m reaching for, rendering it unacceptable for Edward’s consumption. “Love the one you’re with and all that.”
I quickly fill the tin. “You don’t understand.” Azure’s longest relationship lasted a whole five days.
“I understand that your lover-boy lawyer is a twice-a-week type of guy. He’s been that way since the day the two of you met. Now, after three years…”
“Four years.” I correct her, proud of this accomplishment.
“After four years,” Azure amends. “He has gone almost two weeks without getting any. Phone sex is good in a pinch but even Steady Eddy has to be wanting the real thing.”
We haven’t been having phone sex. We talk every day, exchanging multiple calls and messages, but our conversations have been short and businesslike. Edward has been busy at the firm, feeling the pressure to perform, to bring in the big deals and prove his worth.
And I’m the one in our relationship most likely to want the real thing. I’ve always had a greater need for sex. Twice a week isn’t enough for me.
It’s rare that couples are completely compatible in the bedroom. I read that on the internet. Someone often needs to take care of her or himself. I’d rather be that person and not put even more stress on Edward’s suit-clad shoulders.
“I’m seeing him tonight.” I place the lid on the tin. “I’m dropping by the firm, surprising him.” If I call, he’ll tell me he’s too busy to see me, that he has to concentrate on his cases. “I’ll give him the real thing.”
“Wearing that?” Azure surveys my outfit. I haven’t changed out of the black skirt suit I’d worn to my office. “You should ditch the corporate slave gear and show him your inner sex goddess. Then you might see him more often.”
“He’s at the office and I don’t have an inner sex goddess.” I love sex, but compared to my inhibitions-free friend, my experience has been limited. Edward is a missionary-position-every-time kind of man and the two boyfriends I’d had in university were as bungling as I was, coming after a couple awkward thrusts.
“You could wear a long coat.” Azure’s eyes gleam. “And nothing else.”
“No.”
“Yes.” She grasps my wrist and pulls me into my bedroom. “If you’re not brave enough to go nude under the coat—”
“I’m not.” Knowing my luck, a button would pop off the coat and everyone in Edward’s stuffy law firm would get an eyeful, embarrassing me, but even worse, humiliating the man I love.
“You could leave your underwear on.” Azure, having no boundaries, unbuttons my blazer and gazes at my plain white bra. “Or not.”
Dismay is written all over her expressive face.
“My bra is practical.” I snatch my blazer away from her and wrap my plus-sized body in fabric.
“It’s ugly.” My friend rummages through my drawers, tossing my clean clothes on the floor. “Here. Put this on.” She lobs a ball of black silk at me.
I smooth it out and gaze at it with trepidation. “This is lingerie. It isn’t meant to be worn outside the bedroom.”
“You’ll be wearing a coat over it.” Azure’s tone is dry. “Some young girl working in a hot, overcrowded sweatshop sacrificed her eyesight to craft that garment for you.” My friend continues to ravage my neatly organized dresser. “The least you can do is wear it.”
It won’t hurt me to try it on. I discard my ugly bra and the rest of my clothes and I slip the babydoll over my head. The hem of the skirt skims the bare skin above my knees and the triangle cups struggle to contain my large breasts.
“I look like a hooker.” If the fabric shifts an inch to the right or to the left, I’ll show nipple.
“Steady Eddy is a lawyer; he’s the white, middle-aged, male version of a hooker.” Azure grins at her own joke. “He’s going to lose his shit when he sees you.”
My jaw clenches. “Edward will lose his shit and not in a good way. He works at a conservative law firm. I won’t jeopardize his job to give our sex life a boost.”
I know how difficult it can be to find a replacement job. He could be out of work for months, years, losing his home, his car, everything.
Except me. He wouldn’t lose me. I’d stand by his side as my mom stood by my dad’s side. I love Edward and love means sticking with a person through the good times and the bad.
“Put these on.” Azure holds up a pair of silk boy shorts. “They’ll cover everything.” She snaps the tags, removing them, and hands the boy shorts to me.
They only cover half of my huge ass. “I’m not showing up at his office, dressed in lingerie, a coat and heels.”
“Find your center and breathe.” She presses on my chest. “Only Eddy will know what you’re wearing under your coat. This will be your little secret.”
The coat is long. I nibble on my bottom lip. It would conceal everything.
“Think of this as skipping a step in undressing,” she adds. “You’ll reach this state eventually. You’re simply doing it faster.”
Edward does like fast. We’d get to the sex quicker, allowing him to return to work sooner, saving his valuable billable time. He wouldn’t be upset with me for interrupting him. My visit wouldn’t cause him to lose his job.
There’s still an element of risk. “If this goes wrong—”
“It won’t.” Azure plugs the brand new, never-been-in-a-man’s-ass curling iron into a socket, preparing to fix my hair. “Trust the universe, ‘Nella. Let it guide you.”
“But—”
“It’s been almost two weeks.”
It has been almost two weeks. I miss Edward, want him, need him.
“Okay.” I sit in the chair positioned before her. “But if I end up in jail for indecent exposure, I expect you to bail me out.”
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
He wants one night. I want forever.
Hit it and quit it—that’s Smoke Sheridan’s relationship philosophy. The tall, dark, and dangerous club owner never spends more than one night with any woman. He seduces the broken-hearted, leaving them with smiles on their faces and a sexual confidence other men can’t resist.
I need his services.
My boyfriend of four years dumped me because I’m a lousy lay. Smoke can help me win him back, teach me how to make my man writhe in ecstasy. I’ll show him such bliss, he’ll bellow my name in the dark of the night, want me with an all-consuming desire.
This sounds like a great plan. Except I see the loneliness in Smoke’s eyes, feel the wistfulness in his touch, experience the wanting in his embrace. The player isn’t as shallow as he appears.
And I’ve never been good at letting go.
One And Done contains inappropriate humor, very bad pickup lines, a BBW heroine who doesn’t know what she’s doing and a player who thinks he does.
This is a standalone story.
Buy Now:
On Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-oneanddone-2040641-340.html
On Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-and-done-cynthia-sax/1123809444
On Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/one-and-done-1
Topics: Coming Soon | Comments Off on One And Done – Second Scene
One And Done – First Scene
As One And Done is releasing on July 19th (and is available for pre-order now), I thought I’d share the first two chapters of this 300 page plus contemporary erotic romance.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Azure, my roommate and best friend chants, her pitch rising, rising, rising. Her bedroom door is closed yet I hear every word, every pant, every moan. “Yes,” she screams.
I press my lips together, sucking back my envy, the taste of it acidic on my tongue. That’s the third time this evening she’s come.
I’m happy for my friend. I am. We’ve lived together since our first year of university, got jobs at the same company, have each other’s backs. Azure is my sister in every way except blood. She’s chosen family, the best kind, and her joy usually feeds mine.
Usually.
But not tonight. Listening to her find release over and over again reminds me of what I’ve been missing. It has been almost two weeks since I’ve seen Edward, my lawyer boyfriend, twelve days and twenty-two hours since I’ve had sex.
Sex with another person, that is. I pleasure myself in the shower every morning. That takes the edge off but is never enough to completely satisfy me.
I need a man’s hands on my body, more specifically, my boyfriend’s hands.
Which is why I’m baking cookies on a Thursday night.
I open the oven and a wave of chocolate-and-vanilla-infused air sweeps upward, heating my arms and face. This last tray of chocolate chip cookies is almost ready. The previous batches are cooling on the laminate-topped island separating the tiny kitchen from the equally tiny living room.
I’ll package these cookies up, bring them to Edward, and, once I’ve satisfied that hunger, I’ll appease his sexual appetites.
That’s the plan.
Azure’s bedroom door opens. “You boys entertain yourselves.” She closes the door. “I’m taking a break.”
My best friend dances toward me, her lush body swathed in a colorful robe made from hemp and natural dyes. A smile lights her makeup-free face. She’s been banged silly by her two men of the moment.
I grin at her. “Do you want me to make you a sandwich?”
“There’s no need for a sandwich.” She spins, almost losing her robe in the process. The soles of her bare feet smack against the hardwood floor. She smells like sex and marijuana. “We have chocolate chip cookies.”
“These cookies aren’t organic.” I didn’t expect her to emerge from her bedroom tonight. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s my cheat day.” Azure pulls a barstool out from under the kitchen island and plops her curvy ass on the vinyl. “I ate white bread at lunch.”
“No.” I gasp. My friend considers white flour to be the work of evil corporations hell-bent on destroying the world.
“That’s my truth.” She dips her head. “I’m not proud of it. There were leftover sandwiches in the fourth floor lunchroom and I was weak, so very weak.”
Since Azure is confessing, I decide to make one of my own. “I made these for Edward.” I remove the last sheet from the oven and turn it off. “He’s working late again tonight.”
“He’s working?” Azure’s lips twist. “Is that what he told you?”
“That’s his truth.” I set the sheet on a cooling rack. “He wouldn’t lie to me.”
“I didn’t say he was lying.” She grabs one of the ready-to-be-eaten cookies and breaks it into pieces.
I watch her, waiting. My friend has more to say. She always does.
“You haven’t seen Steady Eddy in…how long?” Azure tilts her head.
“It’ll be two weeks tomorrow.” I’ve missed him, desperately. “And you know he doesn’t like that nickname.”
She shrugs. “It suits him.”
My friend says this as though it’s a bad thing. It isn’t. Edward is forty-three, thirteen years older than I am. His steadiness and his maturity are two of the many things I love about him.
And I do love him. My boyfriend might not look like a movie star. His blond hair is thinning and some unkind people might call him scrawny.
But he eats whatever he wants, is able to devour a tin of my cookies and not gain weight. And his hair, the few strands he still has, is baby fine, soft to the touch.
He’s also kind and intelligent, his eyes are a beautiful shade of blue, a couple of hues lighter than mine, and he treats me like a princess. He doesn’t care that I’m two dress sizes larger than I was when we first met; that I’m an accountant, a career many people find boring; that I’m not trendy or fashionable. He loves me the way I am.
I share none of this with Azure. My best friend isn’t as lucky as I am. She doesn’t yet have a permanent guy. The two men in her bedroom are casual lays.
Azure claims that’s because she doesn’t believe in monogamy. I think it’s because she hasn’t found ‘the one.’
“It’s been almost two weeks, huh?” She arches one of her eyebrows.
“We’ve both been busy.” We’ve never gone this long without seeing each other. This frustrates me sexually but it doesn’t worry me. I know why we’ve been apart. “Edward is hustling for clients, trying to make partner. I had month-end.”
“Those are excuses.” Azure waves her right hand dismissively. “If he wanted to see you, he would.”
“He’s busy.” Securing our future, ensuring we never have to struggle for money like my parents did.
“No man is too busy for sex.” She destroys another cookie.
Her bedroom door opens before I think of a reply. Rohaan, one of her meditation buddies, struts out, wearing absolutely nothing. The man is short and round and hairy, his chest covered by a thick mat of fur, but he has a reason to be confident.
He’s packing. I’ve never seen a cock as long or as thick as the one he’s been blessed with. It’s semi-erect and bobs as he walks. It’s impossible to gaze away from it.
Azure turns her head and frowns at him. “What did I say about leaving Evan unsupervised?”
“Oh fuck.” Rohaan changes course without another word and strides back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
I blink, trying to purge images of his humongous cock from my brain. “Do I want to know why Evan can’t be left unsupervised?” I look at Azure.
“No.”
I wait. The expression on her face says she wants to tell me.
“Last time he was here, he stuck a curling iron up his ass.” She pauses. “While it was heated.”
“Ouch.” I wince. Then I think about this a little bit more. “Wait a minute.” Azure always allows her hair to dry naturally. “Do you own a curling iron?”
“No.”
“Did he stick my curling iron up his ass?”
“Don’t worry.” She avoids my gaze. “He replaced it.”
I open my mouth and then close it again. With Azure, it’s sometimes best not to know the details.
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
He wants one night. I want forever.
Hit it and quit it—that’s Smoke Sheridan’s relationship philosophy. The tall, dark, and dangerous club owner never spends more than one night with any woman. He seduces the broken-hearted, leaving them with smiles on their faces and a sexual confidence other men can’t resist.
I need his services.
My boyfriend of four years dumped me because I’m a lousy lay. Smoke can help me win him back, teach me how to make my man writhe in ecstasy. I’ll show him such bliss, he’ll bellow my name in the dark of the night, want me with an all-consuming desire.
This sounds like a great plan. Except I see the loneliness in Smoke’s eyes, feel the wistfulness in his touch, experience the wanting in his embrace. The player isn’t as shallow as he appears.
And I’ve never been good at letting go.
One And Done contains inappropriate humor, very bad pickup lines, a BBW heroine who doesn’t know what she’s doing and a player who thinks he does.
This is a standalone story.
Buy Now:
On Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-oneanddone-2040641-340.html
On Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-and-done-cynthia-sax/1123809444
On Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/one-and-done-1
Topics: Cover Reveal | 1 Comment »
One And Done Available For Pre-Order
One And Done is available for pre-order!
This is a standalone 300 page contemporary erotic romance featuring a curvy girl and a super slick player set in the same world as One Night With My Billionaire Master and The Good Assistant (in other words, set in Toronto – grins)
He wants one night. I want forever.
Hit it and quit it—that’s Smoke Sheridan’s relationship philosophy. The tall, dark, and dangerous club owner never spends more than one night with any woman. He seduces the broken-hearted, leaving them with smiles on their faces and a sexual confidence other men can’t resist.
I need his services.
My boyfriend of four years dumped me because I’m a lousy lay. Smoke can help me win him back, teach me how to make my man writhe in ecstasy. I’ll show him such bliss, he’ll bellow my name in the dark of the night, want me with an all-consuming desire.
This sounds like a great plan. Except I see the loneliness in Smoke’s eyes, feel the wistfulness in his touch, experience the wanting in his embrace. The player isn’t as shallow as he appears.
And I’ve never been good at letting go.
One And Done contains inappropriate humor, very bad pickup lines, a BBW heroine who doesn’t know what she’s doing and a player who thinks he does.
This is a standalone story.
Buy Now:
On Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-oneanddone-2040641-340.html
On Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-and-done-cynthia-sax/1123809444
On Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/one-and-done-1
Topics: Coming Soon | Comments Off on One And Done Available For Pre-Order
Fighting For My Billionaire Boss – Fourth Excerpt
I’m sharing the fourth scene from the first chapter of Fighting For My Billionaire Boss today.
I study him, his manscaped face, his colorful suit, his death grip on Gretchen’s purse. Oh shit. I spot the gleam of light off glass. No, not glass. A camera lens. There’s a circle cut out of the side of the bag. “Are you recording—”
“You bitch.” Gretchen slaps me across the face, her reaction catching me by surprise, her nails leaving a stinging trail on my cheek. “Were you fucking him the entire time we were dating?”
She hit me. She fuckin’ hit me. Anger rushes through me, hot and feral and intense. I battle the urge to strike back, to punch her lights out.
I’m not that girl anymore.
“One, I’m a lady.” My tone is as sweet and as calm as I can manage. “Not a… what you called me. I don’t use that type of language,” I inform her prissily. “Two—”
“Fuck you,” she screeches and slaps me again, scratching my other cheek.
I catch her wrist and she gasps, staring at me with wide eyes. “Don’t do that again.” I release her before I inflict more damage. “Or I will—”
The door to my boss’s office opens. Gretchen swings at me.
Distracted, I react on instinct, my arm shooting out. My right fist connects with her left eye. She staggers backward.
Rational thought flees. Adrenaline pumps through my veins. This fight is on.
“That’s for the pain you caused me.” I follow up with my left fist, popping her in her other eye. “And that’s for the pain you caused my boss.”
“Miss Henderson.” His voice originates behind me.
“You man-stealing tramp.” Gretchen blindly flies at me.
“You insane media slut.” I fling myself at her. Our bodies collide. She’s twice my size, a fuckin’ giant of a woman, and she doesn’t go down.
I climb her like a tree, straddle her waist with my legs, and beat on her. The actress makes a valiant attempt to block and to return my punches. She gets lucky a few times, smacking my chest twice and striking my chin once. But her technique is all over the place.
She doesn’t have my experience at brawling. I jab toward her face. She twists, seeking to avoid the punch. Fabric rips. Her perfect breasts escape her skintight dress.
One of the male idiots watching us cheers.
“That’s enough, Miss Henderson.” Brick’s tone is stern.
That isn’t enough. The knuckles of my right hand connect with the tip of Gretchen’s dainty nose. There’s a crunch. She howls. Blood pours down her face.
“You broke my nose.” Gretchen holds up her arms, attempting to protect her face.
She has to do this because I continue to whale on her. My brothers taught me that a fight isn’t over until my opponent is flat on his or her back.
The actress is still standing. I hit her again and again, throwing in some body slams, trying to take her down.
The bitch finally topples backward, taking me with her. My skirts, all of them, ride up to my waist. Cool air sweeps over my panty-clad ass. I punch her once, twice more for good measure, ensuring she doesn’t get back up.
“Easy, scrapper.” Brick straps his arms around my waist and peels me off her.
“I’m not a scrapper,” I yell, flailing my arms and legs. “I’m a fuckin’ lady.”
His body shakes. “Yes, we see that.”
“You might have drawn first blood but I always draw the last.” I ignore Brick and glare at my adversary. “Remember that, bitch.”
“Keep her away from me.” The actress’s nose continues to bleed. Her face is already starting to swell, her dress is shredded and her breasts hang out. She looks like a mess yet she’s still glorious, sexy in that horror-flick female type of way. “She’s out of control.”
“Says the woman who attacked me for no reason.” I wave my fists in the air, not willing to take any more shit from her. “You’re a complete psycho and should be locked up.”
Gretchen’s publicist doesn’t move, doesn’t attempt to help her. My coworkers stare at us with wide eyes and open mouths. Someone had the brains to call security but the security guard just stands there, gaping at us.
“Dave, please escort Gretchen and her publicist out of the building.” Brick takes command of the situation, assigning the crazy woman to the security guard’s care.
The man doesn’t appear happy to have that responsibility.
“Watch her hands,” I advise. “She scratches.”
Brick’s arms tighten around me. “Gretchen, my lawyer will talk to your lawyer.”
“She broke my nose,” the woman moans.
“You also broke a nail,” I holler back at her. “When you raked those talons of yours across my face.”
A man behind me sniggers.
“I’ll pay for a nose job,” Brick assures his ex. “It’s not like it’s your first.” He mumbles this last comment. “My meetings are canceled for the rest of the day.”
People hurry away from the entrance to his office, darting concerned glances at me. They’re all scared shitless of me. They’ve seen what I can do.
Brick saw this, too. He’ll never see me as feminine now.
“You’re coming with me, scrapper.” My boss hauls me toward his private space. “The rest of you, get back to work.”
“I’m a lady.” This protest is weaker.
“Of course, you are.” Brick turns me until I face him. The humor in his eyes fades when he sees the blood dripping down my cheeks. “Fuck. She messed you up.” He slings my body over his shoulder.
“I messed her up more.” I glance behind us. Gretchen remains knocked on her ass. Pride fills me. I definitely won this fight.
But, in doing that, I might have lost all hope of winning Brick’s love.
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
Love is worth the fight.
My boss, Brick Armitage, is one of the most eligible bachelors in the city. He’s handsome, young, and the billionaire CEO of an online company. Brick dates stunning supermodels and famous actresses, the most beautiful women on the planet.
I’m determined to be the next woman he kisses, touches, pleases. To land the man I love, I’ll become the delicate lady he seems to prefer. No cussing. No sprawling over the furniture. No punching the pretty out of Brick’s trash-talking ex.
But when I fail at this and the footage of my brawling goes viral, will I lose my sophisticated billionaire forever, or will he realize a scrapper is exactly who he needs?
Buy Now:
On Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Fighting-My-Billionaire-Boss-Infamous-ebook/dp/B01AS4ZA0C/
On Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Fighting-My-Billionaire-Boss-Infamous-ebook/dp/B01AS4ZA0C/
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-fightingformybillionaireboss-1968442-149.html
On B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/fighting-for-my-billionaire-boss-cynthia-sax/1123343805
On Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/fighting-for-my-billionaire-boss
Topics: Guest Post | Comments Off on Fighting For My Billionaire Boss – Fourth Excerpt
Fighting For My Billionaire Boss – Third Excerpt
I’m sharing the third scene from the first chapter of Fighting For My Billionaire Boss today.
“That won’t be necessary, Miss Henderson.” He tosses the last piece of scone into his mouth and chews. “I’ll find a date. Someone will want the exposure.”
“Someone does.” I’m that someone. I gaze at him, trying to drive that thought into his thick head.
“Hmmm…” He picks up his tablet, signaling the end of the tea party and our conversation.
Shit. I place the faux china on a side table for the cleaning staff to take care of. “Back to work, I go, your faithful assistant.” Destined to never be more than that.
He doesn’t look up. I slink toward the door, dejected.
“Miss Henderson?”
Joy bursts within me. He’s changed his mind, has decided to ask me.
“Yes?” I turn.
Brick continues to gaze at his screen. “Update your media training.”
“I take media training every six months.” And he never allows me to use it, forbidding me to speak to the press.
“Increase that to every three months.”
Fuck. I stomp out of the office. He’ll never ask me to be his date.
A vase of pink carnations is set on a corner of my desk. My top lip curls. Brick gives them to me every week, which would be sweet, except he gives his ladies of the week roses and orchids and other superbly feminine flowers.
I receive sturdy, long-lasting carnations. Because that’s how he sees me—sturdy, long-lasting, durable. I jut out my jaw, even more resolute to figure out the girl world, to become a woman he’d desire.
The morning creeps along. I reply to messages, monitor the flow of people in and out of Brick’s office, supply him with the information he needs for these meetings.
Gossip flies around the floor after that first meeting. Everyone speculates on how our boss got the scratches on his face. Chanelle’s comments are extra loud and directed my way.
I don’t rise to the bait, refusing to contribute to the talk, even though that’s exactly what Gretchen or Trinity or any of Brick’s exes would have done. My boss trusts me to remain silent, to keep our conversations confidential. I would never betray him.
At 11:15 a.m., Tammy at reception calls me, warning that Gretchen is on her way to see Brick, relaying that she’s in a foul mood.
The actress will be even more pissed off when she sees me. Brick has a meeting in his office until noon. She’ll have to wait to talk with him.
I message my boss, keeping him informed.
He won’t be disturbed if she does make a fuss. Requiring a space for his extremely confidential meetings and phone calls, my favorite CEO had his office soundproofed.
A ripple of excitement flows through the cubicles, announcing the actress’s arrival. She glides between the gray fabric-covered walls, each step placed directly in front of the other. I gaze at her, open with my admiration.
That walk is more difficult than it looks. I know. I’ve practiced for hours at home in front of the mirror and I still have too much bounce in my gait.
Gretchen is not only graceful. She’s damn beautiful, her hard, green eyes glittering with self-righteous fury. There isn’t a freckle or blemish on her tanned skin. Her golden-blonde hair fans her high cheekbones and defined chin. The bright-red lipstick on her full, pouty lips matches her skintight dress.
She’s womanly perfection. I can’t blame Brick for lusting after the actress. If I were a man, I’d fuck her.
Gretchen isn’t alone. Her publicist, a narrow-eyed weasel of a man, trails behind her. The woman rarely goes anywhere without him.
Today, he’s her designated bag holder, the actress’s camel-colored tote clutched in his spindly fingers.
I suppress my snide remarks and stand, feeling even more unfeminine than I usually do. “He’s in a meeting, Miss Gretchen.” The woman has no last name.
“I’m not here to see Brick Armitage.” She braces her feet apart, showing off her long, tanned legs. Her publicist scurries around her. Gretchen glances at him and then back at me. “I’m here to see you.”
She wants to see me. A warm glow of happiness fills my soul. “I—”
“I thought you were my friend.” Lines appear between her eyebrows.
I blink. She considers me to be her friend? We haven’t spoken more than a dozen sentences to each other.
“You know how I feel about him.” She waves her beautifully manicured hands at Brick’s office door. “You know I love him, have loved him desperately, crazily, since the first day I saw him.”
My forehead furrows. Is she referring to my boss? Because the first day she saw him wasn’t very long ago.
“He’s in my heart.” She slaps her chest with her right palm. “In my soul.” Gretchen glances at her publicist. He nods. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
A crowd gathers around us, everyone as captivated as I am by the passion in the actress’s voice. I never knew she cared so much for my boss.
This won’t stop me from wanting him but it is good information to have.
“That you betrayed me…” She gazes at me, accusations in her green eyes.
“I didn’t betray you.” I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“How can you say that?” she asks.
The publicist turns his entire body, facing me.
“Because I haven’t.” Hurting her would hurt Brick and I’d never do that.
The publicist swings his body back toward Gretchen. I frown. He’s acting even more strangely than she is.
“How can you look me in the eyes and continue to lie?” Gretchen splays her fingers across her magnificent breasts. “You know what you’ve done to me, to Brick, to the family we’ll now never have.”
The family they’ll now never have? They dated for little over a week.
The publicist is positioned toward me again.
What is he doing?
Read the next scene (available April 13th): http://tasteofcyn.com/2016/04/13/fighting-for-my-billionaire-boss-fourth-excerpt/
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
Love is worth the fight.
My boss, Brick Armitage, is one of the most eligible bachelors in the city. He’s handsome, young, and the billionaire CEO of an online company. Brick dates stunning supermodels and famous actresses, the most beautiful women on the planet.
I’m determined to be the next woman he kisses, touches, pleases. To land the man I love, I’ll become the delicate lady he seems to prefer. No cussing. No sprawling over the furniture. No punching the pretty out of Brick’s trash-talking ex.
But when I fail at this and the footage of my brawling goes viral, will I lose my sophisticated billionaire forever, or will he realize a scrapper is exactly who he needs?
Buy Now:
On Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Fighting-My-Billionaire-Boss-Infamous-ebook/dp/B01AS4ZA0C/
On Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Fighting-My-Billionaire-Boss-Infamous-ebook/dp/B01AS4ZA0C/
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-fightingformybillionaireboss-1968442-149.html
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