Um…

There I am getting ready to share some POV (point of view) interest from some pages I’m working on. The conversion entails my new work being written from the male and female perspective.

Shoot me. If I couldn't exist as a woman, I’d so want to be a man, over you know, a three toed sloth or penguin or something. 😊

Anyway, there I am perusing my desktop for some of my image files.

*Leans in to whisper here*

I have a hot mess on my desktop because I stupidly think it’s easier to find my stuff there. It used to be easier when there were just a few images and docs to pick from. Now, however, it’s SO cluttered that I can’t find anything. Truly. It’s bad.

*Looks right at you*

But then I spy a doc file that is titled ‘The guy who has the dirt’.

Me: Blink, blink.

It sounds so interesting, doesn’t it? Keep in mind that I am the only one on this computer and I can’t remember having anything that fascinating, so yeah, I had to click.

Turns out? It’s a link to a man who does deliveries of actual dirt to my neck of the new woods where I currently live and need fresh dirt. Who knew?

But how sad is this? I am doing my own clickbait. That’s how bad my desktop is. I’m going to have to have my girlie-girl visit. She takes one look at my computer and all I hear is her gasp before she sits down for an hour to straighten it out.

But this post isn’t about me, my penchant to entertain myself, or keep my daughter

feeling superior over me either. This was about my new WIP The Dom Chronicles.

I thought I’d post the tone of the story. Normally I usually do a dual POV, but ninety percent of the time it’s in third person. This one is first person all the way, and I have to laugh. My hero is slightly older than the heroine, and I’ve discovered that in person when he’s speaking to her directly, he sounds his age, but not so much in his inner thoughts. For my heroine? It’s just the opposite. Weird, right?

You guys be the judge.

This is Penelope (Pan’s) POV

His look screamed you are so far out of your league, lady. Stick to gossip columnist. I suppose I deserved that, given the question, but what else was there to focus on besides the sexual aspect of things?

Shit.

I was starting to panic. Ninety percent of my questions were about his sexual appetite.

When his silence continued, I cleared my throat as I mentally scrambled to say something to interrupt the heaviness of the moment. It was brutal. “I…”

He raised a brow.

Fuck.

“Alright. Okay, I lied when I said I was published in Vanity Fair. I’m a freelance writer looking to sell this piece to get my card.”

“I see.”

That was all he had to say? Not a tsk, tsk, tsk, or an accusatory glare? Just an acceptance of fact that was like a bucket of ice thrown on my hot-off-the-press scam to comingle our goals. What was I thinking?

“I, ah, do have an in with Vanity Fair.” He stared harder and I caved. “It’s true. A junior editor said he’d look at it if I kept it in their format.”

Still he stared.

“That’s why I was thinking that we should lead with the sexual aspect and then ease off the gas there and delve into the finer details of intellectualizing the topic.”

“You should have said so earlier.”

I was so relieved. “I would have told you the truth, but I didn’t want to worry you.”

“I wasn’t worried. I would have told you that Vanity Fair is not where I see myself being exposed to the public.”

Crap. It was the only ‘in’ I had and even then, it was an acquaintance’s cousin. “I should go.”

(End of excerpt)

This it Gates’ POV

I gave a few punches to the pillow while I shifted my thoughts directly to the reason the woman was in my life in the first place. It was cut and dried really. I needed to be completely invested on branding certain aspects of my business, and she was going to help me to do just that with a demographic exposure I’d been unable to reach.

So simple and yet so—?

Damn.

Every one of the cutting-edge ideas I attempted to explore ended with thoughts of her leaning over my desk while I shoved a hand up her skirt to get a hold of her ass. I couldn’t help it. Those questions she’d listed on her clipboard were something else. Dirty. Raw. A guy’s dream in terms of a woman’s interest in wanting to do even ten percent of what she’d listed for discussion.

She actually wrote the phrase, ‘Do you prefer a woman who swallows?’

It was total guy speak, and…?

I loved it.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Did she?

She’d put it down on paper. That was the problem.

I laid flat on my back and stared at the ceiling. Did she know how much of herself she left on the page? Her likes? Sure, I knew that she was trying to frame questions so I’d open up, but Christ, her introductory sentences grabbed me by the balls and never let go.

She was intending to ask shit like,

‘I like a slow hand drag on my inner thigh, how do you...?’

‘I want a lazy kiss where tongues stroke each other with sexy circles, not stab hurriedly…?’

‘I love a good hair tug at the back of the head. When you do that to a woman who’s kneeling between your thighs do you...?’

These were just the few tamer penned conversation starters she’d listed. A series of casually structured offerings before she sharpened her pen to fine-tune her stabbing into my sexual deviant preferences without a blush. Right from her query about skin to skin bareback, down to sucking on finger and toes. What the fuck was the need to know on that last? It had me thinking though.

Deciding.

Wanting.

I shouldn’t have asked to see those notes. Scattered and random they may have been, but buried in the text was the heart of the woman who was starved for my kind of attention.

Hell.

(End of excerpt)

These guys are a lot of fun to write. She’s on the fast track trying to build a life and Gates is on the slow train enjoying the fruits of the journey he’s already sped through. Oh, he might still be building his career and company, but he’s got the wisdom of failures sprinkled with some great success to guide him.

Pan? She has ambition driving her decision making process. This opens up an exciting and careless energy that Gates hasn’t felt around him in years. It’s invigorating and dangerous for both of them. While he’s heavily tempted to tap into it, he must temper this reawakened rush of youth-fueled sexual energy with his greater experience. This is what is interesting to me.

In any relationship there is a newness that is in itself a love affair. Add to this the rekindling of a special you let slide into ordinary, and you have to my mind two levels of a learning curve on a roller coaster that is speeding so fast you’re breathless.

Not gonna lie. Gate’s probably could have handled all these intricacies if the old external conflict didn’t rear its ugly head. What a mean author I am to thread Gate’s current business dilemma into their newfound podcast success. The poor guy. Now he has to fight off his business problem on two fronts because someone has made things very personal. When it starts to effect their Podcasts their age difference is tested in a different, but refreshing way. While he's ready to pull back and wait out the negative publicity, Pan is diving in with both feet, leaking shocking and questionable facts about their relationship that he is more than eager to make true.

As always, thanks for stopping by,

Riley