The first three books in The New York Artists Series:
Summer of Irreverence: The Rock Star - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01G46YMDO/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_ep_dp_0Zr5ybWVV7D1N
To Be or Not To Be: The Actors – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07919TXPP/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_ep_dp_.W7DAb49G5JBJ
The Risk of Happiness: The Punk Rocker - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07LCXM2MP/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_ep_dp_tx-fCbBWFKS7F
Excerpt:
“Come here.” He holds out his hand for me to walk ahead of him, and points down the nearly deserted, narrow side street.
I’m
wobbly as I walk ahead. I’m way too high to be stable thanks to my heeled boots
and my diet pills. I walk past the first three stores still busy with
late-night shoppers, and find a quiet spot behind the railing attached to a set
of basement stairs.
I
turn toward him as he steps forward, reaches behind me, and slam! He
smacks me on the ass. Hard.
“Huh!”
I step back, wedging myself closer to the building, grabbing the railing for
support. Lust and desire course through me as I rub my ass where his hand had
been only moments before. My jeans moisten as I stare up into his dark,
dangerous eyes.
“It’s
not a good idea to roll your eyes at me.”
“No?”
I lick my lips.
“No.”
“What
if I roll them again?” My low, breathy voice surprises me. I release the tiniest
sigh as he steps closer.
“Are
you testing me?” He backs me up against the building.
“Depends.”
“On?”
I
roll my eyes again…slowly.
He
moves so fast I barely have time to gasp as he grabs my right forearm and holds
on so tightly, I can’t break away. As if I would try. He pulls me off the wall
and closer to him until we’re nearly touching—chest to chest, hips to hips. He
towers over me and stares into my eyes.
“Do
it,” I whisper. “Again.”
He
holds my arm tighter, and my body grows tense in response. I close my eyes and
breathe deeply, leaning toward him. I can feel him raise his hand behind me.
“Look
at me.” His voice is deep.
I
open my eyes.
Slam!
He spanks me harder this time. I moan as my body jolts forward against his, but
I don’t move away. He leaves his hand on my ass, possessively cradling me,
rubbing away the pain through my jeans. I nearly explode from desire.
I
push closer and the bulge in his pants grows harder.
“Cray,”
I whisper.
I
move my chin upward, and he takes his hand from my ass, and brings it to rest
on my cheek. I nuzzle against it—tears aching in my eyes—as he exhales, loudly.
“Your
face was made to be sculpted.” He runs his fingers across my cheekbones and
into the hollows beneath them. He moves his hand to my hair that’s fallen
across my shoulder, and he weaves his fingers through it. He brushes my
collarbone as he does.
“It’s
like you were made to be ravaged but protected, all at once.” He holds my chin
and draws it upward, cupping me. He rubs my cheek with his thumb.
“Maybe
I was.” I place my hand on his forearm that bulges with sinews.
He
leans down, and I lift up onto my tiptoes. He tilts his head and his breath
rushes out parted lips, crashing into mine. He raises my chin higher…
…and
stops.
“Cray,”
I’m nearly panting. “Don’t stop. Kiss me.”
He
drops his hand and shakes his head. He moves away from me.
“We
should go back inside. Janet was talking about something—I really,” he exhales,
loudly, “I really didn’t pay any attention.”
I am a fan of Luna Bars, decaf coffee, yoga, Hemingway, and Bukowski—and the loves of my life are my husband and my two young girls.
For more about me and my books, and to find out what’s coming soon, please visit: www.CathrineGoldstein.com
1 comments:
Thank you so much for featuring, Where Birds Fly: The Sculptor on your beautiful blog!
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