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Dinner and a Show — Holiday Flash Fiction

11 Feb

Our plans for Valentine’s Day are simple. We will be spending a quiet evening at home.

I don’t want to make it sound too exciting. You seem so thrilled with your plans to get dressed up for dinner and take in this year’s obligatory date movie. I hate to steal your thunder, and yet I cannot share your enthusiasm.

While you’re covering that backless getup with a coat, I’ll be getting dressed up, too. He likes to help with my garters, his big hands clumsy on the stretchy straps but oh-so-nimble on the middle ground beneath that silken swatch. I have to help him with a necktie, even though we’re staying home. It’s not a working man’s noose tonight. It’s a leash. It’s a blindfold. Maybe later, it’ll be a ziptie.

Tonight, as you struggle with pronouncing the names of pricey wines or using the right fork, he’ll join me on the floor for a real lovers’ meal. In the candlelit darkness, we’ll feast with our fingers. We’ll gorge ourselves on everything hot and wet, sweet and sticky, soft and stiff, all we can eat, all we can stand. We’ll lick delectable juices served over salty skin and finish with bites of firm flesh.

You’ll be squinting into the dark in search of two adjacent seats, but we’re going to turn in early tonight. He’ll get the lights just right, and I’ll slide the mirror into position. We’ll take our places together on our intimate stage, a place where performers and audience are one and the same. He’ll shed his costume for me, and I’ll reveal myself to him. We’ll watch the slide of skin on skin, his hand caressing the contour of my hip, my nails making crescent moons just beneath his shoulder blade. His body will batter mine with strong, sure undulations, and I will demand more with words Hollywood doesn’t approve. Our private show would make you cross your legs tight and hope your date didn’t notice you blushing.

You’ll feel sorry for me on the 15th. You’ll spare me the details of your enchanted evening, not wanting to brag. I pity you a bit, too. We have quiet evenings at home all the time.

**I’m so excited to join the crew at Passionate Reads! You can also catch me on my own blog every Thursday, on Facebook, and on Twitter. In three weeks, Ellora’s Cave will release my first novel, Illicit Impulse, the story of a hot science geek, his best friend, her boy toy, an experimental drug, and lots of hot complications.

Summer holidays!

1 Jan

I know, I know, most of you are in the middle of winter and snowed in but down under we’re smack-bang in the middle of summer and for the first day of 2013 Mother Nature has put on a scorcher. Those with hangovers from last night aren’t coping so well but for the rest of us it’s one more glorious day to be out on the water.

Tribe Cahill are currently at our holiday van and making the most of our break. Of course I’m not. I’ve had edits, deadline and more edits to deal with but there’s something nice about doing those while soaking up the sun. Plus when I take a break I get to hangout with friends I only see this time of year. It’s a win-win even if I am wearing down my fingertips from typing so much. :)

To every I wish you a happy, healthy New Year.

And don’t forget to check out my New Year novella, New Year’s Kisses HERE!

NewYearsKissesApp

 

Rhian Cahill

www.rhiancahill.com

New release – New Year’s Kisses by Rhian Cahill

18 Dec

The second novella in my holiday series is now available.

NewYearsKissesApp

 

 

She didn’t plan to fall in love, but he’s not accepting anything less.

 

Emily has a five year plan, and romance isn’t on it. Unfortunately no one told Wade Johnson that.

 

Wade never thought he’d need to resort to blackmail to get a date. But if that’s what it’ll take to convince Emily Warner to join him, that’s what he’ll do – and make it a date neither of them will ever forget.

 

New Year’s is all about new beginnings and Emily and Wade are about to discover the best beginnings start at year’s end.

 

Excerpt-

COPYRIGHT © RHIAN CAHILL 2012

 

Emily Warner threw another skirt back into her closet and cursed Wade Johnson. The man had her questioning every decision she’d ever made right down to the clothes in her wardrobe. Indecision was not her thing. She was a take-charge-get-it-done kind of woman. Except when it came to Wade. Her shoulders drooped and her head fell forward as all the air left her chest. How had one man managed to shake her confidence with such profound effect? If only she hadn’t needed that favour. But she couldn’t put on a Christmas concert for the children without a Santa. Refusing his offer of help to avoid a date hadn’t seemed fair.

She’d met Wade months ago, their attraction mutual and obvious, but Em had a five year plan and nowhere was there mention of a man, least of all one who made her stomach drop and her mind wander through a white picket fence and down the garden path. With her plan firmly in place, she’d rejected every advance he made in the hope he’d give up and move on to greener, more amenable pastures. She should have known better. A man like Wade couldn’t be brushed aside so easily. He was like a dog after a bone and now that he’d finally sunk his teeth into her, she doubted either of them would come out unscathed.

Cursing the man and his rotten timing – and her treacherous libido – Em dove back into her closet with the determination to wear the first thing she put her hands on. Whatever she pulled out next would be it. No more waffling. The black dress she came out with was the sexiest piece of clothing she owned. Wasn’t that just typical of her current off-the-track life plan that it would be the outfit she’d grab?

“Dammit.” Emily tossed the dress across the end of her bed and stared at it, muttering. “Dammit, dammit, dammit.”

She didn’t have to wear it. Except she’d made a decision and she would stick to it. She’d be damned if Wade Johnson was going to make her second guess one more thing. Head high, she spun on her heel, and stomped to the bathroom. He’d arrive in less than an hour and she needed every second of that to pull herself together. Heaven forbid he see her flustered. The man would pounce on any weakness she showed and Emily Warner never showed anything but calm, cool certainty. Her shoulders drooped slightly. Until Wade.

Steam from her shower still hovered in the bathroom and she had to swipe a towel across the mirror to clear the fog. Emily studied the face in front of her, but only saw the same woman she’d seen every day for years. Nothing had changed outwardly, but internally… Inside something was different. Cracked. It didn’t matter how much she denied it or fought it, there was no way to hide from the impact Wade had on her. He made her think of things she’d put aside years ago. Made her remember what it was to yearn for something she didn’t have and thought she didn’t want. Not yet anyway. And now he had her questioning the plan.

With a sigh, Em pulled the towel from her head and picked up her comb. Her short hair was practical for work and the natural curl gave her a feminine look, but if she were being honest she’d have to admit the style was quite boyish. The robe she wore hung off her slender shoulders, emphasising the less than curvaceous body beneath. More proof she didn’t live up to the image of most men’s fantasies. With another sigh, she began to run the wide-toothed comb through her tangled curls. It didn’t take long to remove the knots and fluff the waves into place. Reaching for her make-up bag, she pulled out her meagre supply and set to work on her face. She may lack curves in the places men lusted after, but her face was her saving grace.

She’d been called classically beautiful. What that meant Em wasn’t sure, but her deep blue eyes and long lashes were often called bedroom eyes, and drew more than a few compliments. Her full red lips had been described as kissable by a number of guys she’d dated over the years. Personally she thought they were over-large and took up too much of her face. To counteract her large mouth, Emily emphasised her eyes and down-played her lips. The one place she didn’t worry about make-up was at work; she never knew when one of the children would plaster a paint covered hand on her cheek, so it was best to not have to worry about cosmetic repairs at all.

The old cuckoo clock that had been her grandmother’s whirred to life out in the living room. With a squeak of hinges and a time-worn voice, the little cuckoo sprang from his house and chirped seven times. She was down to thirty minutes before Wade arrived. He hadn’t told her where they were going or what they were doing but considering it was New Year’s Eve and he’d asked her to dress semi-formal Em expected to be attending a party or perhaps an upscale restaurant. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of spending hours with him. From the few conversations they’d engaged in over the last few months she knew he was intelligent and didn’t doubt he’d be a charming companion for the evening. It was how charming he’d prove to be that had her worried.

Slicking on a coat of lip gloss she rolled her lips together to spread the layer evenly. She bypassed her foundation and blush and opted for a single swipe of mascara on her lashes. The temperature hadn’t lowered a great deal and she’d learned not to risk melted make-up disasters long ago. Sydney’s summers were best dealt with naturally and today was no exception. If the weathermen were to be believed there’d be no relief from the heat in the next few days and her car’s climate control system had registered a stifling thirty-eight degrees when she’d arrived home at five o’clock.

Emily checked her reflection one more time. Happy with both her hair and face, she made her way back to the bedroom and the black dress awaiting her. She pulled a matching bra and panties set out of her top drawer while she eyed the slinky material draped over her quilt. The fabric shimmered in the low light and Em couldn’t help but wonder what Wade would think when he saw her. A smile tugged at her lips. She’d never be a traffic stopper with her overly slender body, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t look good. Knowing how to play up her best assets had served her well in the past.

Not that she was out to impress him.

She slipped the belt of her robe free and shrugged out of the satin negligee she’d spent far too much money on last birthday. It wasn’t often Em spoiled herself, the plan didn’t allow for it for a start, but she’d never been one to indulge in frivolous things. While she hadn’t needed a new robe Em had found it impossible to pass up and consoled her practical side by saying it was a birthday gift to herself after exceeding the first year’s goal in her five year plan.

Stepping into the lace underwear Em thought about how far she’d come. From high school drop-out to business owner in less years than it took most to get their degrees. Years spent with her nose buried in books earned her not only a high school certificate, but a degree in early childhood education and a business degree with a minor in accounting: all things necessary to make her childcare centre such a success that parents put their children’s name down on the waiting list before they were born. By most people’s standards she’d already made it. But Emily wasn’t quite done yet.

Two more years and she would have achieved her goal a whole year ahead of time. Then she’d be able to step back and enjoy the results of all her hard work. Until then she couldn’t afford to be distracted by a good looking man, no matter how he made her insides churn. She’d go on this date and make it perfectly clear that she wasn’t interested in anything more. Emily chewed her bottom lip as she bent forward to fit her breasts into the cups of her bra properly. The delicate lace hugged her size-A mounds, barely covering her nipples. She didn’t normally wear such a low-cut undergarment, but the dress’s scooped neckline made the risqué underwear a necessity. And Emily excelled at doing what was necessary.

Emily reached for her dress and lowered the zipper. Carefully, she lifted the fabric over her head and shimmied until the soft material floated down her body. The silky caress of cool cloth sent a shiver down her spine. Twisting, she managed to get the zip up to her shoulders before contorting herself like a pretzel to close it the rest of the way. With another small shimmy the dress rippled and slid into place. Satisfied with her outfit if not precisely comfortable, Em searched the cupboard for her black sandals then headed for the living room.

She checked her phone in the hope of finding a message from Wade telling her he had to cancel, but there was no little envelope icon on the screen. It was probably best if she just accepted she was going on a date with Wade Johnson no matter how much she’d fought against it. Resigned to the inevitable Emily sighed and sat on the couch to wait for him to arrive.

 

 

You can purchase New Year’s Kisses from -

 

Escape Publishing  ~  Amazon  ~  iBooks  ~  Kobo

 

Rhian Cahill

www.rhiancahill.com

Holiday season is fast approaching

20 Nov

OMG! When did it get to be late November?! Did the Grinch steal the first half of the year? Honestly, I’m sure it was only yesterday I was writing my 2011 Christmas shopping lists. :(

One thing I’ve always wanted to do as an author is write a Christmas story and this year I finally did it. But I couldn’t just do my normal thing, noooo, I had to step out of my box and write a contemporary romance NOT in the erotic sub genre. And then because I hadn’t stretched myself enough I turned on little novella into a series of three. The first, Christmas Wishes released last week, the second, New Year’s Kisses will be out December 1 and the third, Valentine’s Dates is scheduled for early next year. I have to admit I enjoyed writing all the stories and I’m told they’re all still high on heat but when my editor describes them as sweet I’m usually looking over my shoulder to see who she’s talking about. :lol:

I’m excited about the series even if I’m nervous as hell about how my readers will take them. So far the feedback on Christmas Wishes is good but I’m still chewing my nails and waiting for someone to ask why they aren’t doing it like rabbits. ;)

ChristmasWishesApp

This Christmas, Santa is granting wishes these two friends never knew they had.

Helping his best friend photograph a bunch of hyperactive kids is suddenly the least of Dean Hall’s problems when he sees the costume Talli wants him to wear. No guy in his right mind wants to be seen in a pair of tights.

Talli Jarmen isn’t above a little subterfuge when she’s desperate for help. But getting Dean’s assistance proves to be more than she bargained for when she sees him decked out in the naughtiest Christmas costume she’s ever laid eyes on. She’s never thought about Dean that way, but seeing him practically naked has her questioning their ‘friends only’ status. But wanting more is dangerous. Are they willing to risk all they have for what could be?

Excerpt:-

Chapter One

 

 

 The squeak of brakes and the blare of a horn told Dean he was out of time.

“Shit.”

Dean opened the top drawer of his dresser where empty space greeted him. The second drawer proved no better. Frowning, he spun around in search of his laundry bag.

“Shit.”

He’d forgotten to pick it up at the Laundromat yesterday.

The horn blasted again.

Dean tugged a clean pair of jeans from their hanger and stepped into them. In spite of the summer heat, shorts weren’t a good idea seeing how he’d be swinging in the breeze and the last thing he wanted was a wayward little kid’s hand finding its way up his pant leg. Hopefully the bulk of his time would be spent inside the daycare center where the air conditioning would be pumping out cool air. A longer horn blast sounded as his watch beeped.

“Shit!”

Dean grabbed a t-shirt and shoved his feet into runners as he rushed from the room. He picked up his wallet and keys as he passed the kitchen counter, but lost his grip on both when he flung open the front door. On the fly, he exited the house while his wallet and keys flew back inside a second before the door slammed shut.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” He spun around to stare at the locked door.

Behind him, Talli tooted her horn again. Dean looked skyward. This day was going from bad to worse. And for the first time in history, Tallitha Jarmen wasn’t running late.

 

Dean unlocked his fingers and let go of the oh-shit handle in Talli’s car. She wasn’t a good driver at the best of times, add in some heavy traffic due to the Christmas rush and a deadline that meant kids would be disappointed if she didn’t show up, and Talli was downright dangerous.

“Jesus. We’ll be lucky if we get there in one piece,” he mumbled under his breath.

“I heard that.” She swung the wheel to the left and he grabbed the handle again. “As much as you dig at my driving, I’ve never had an accident that was my fault you know.”

Dean snorted. “Might not have been by the law, but woman, you’re like an oil spill. Get just a little too close and the shit hits the fan.”

“Just for that you can walk home,” she huffed.

He laughed. “Now where have I heard that one before…?”

Talli looked away from the road long enough to poke her tongue out and give him heart failure.

“Watch the damn road, woman!”

“I’m watching, I’m watching.” He cringed as she zipped around a slow car without indicating. “Anybody would think I’d barely passed my driver’s test.”

“You did barely pass and if you hadn’t worn a low cut blouse and mini-skirt you wouldn’t have.”

Their birthdays were a week apart so they’d gone for their licenses together, just one of many milestones they’d shared over the years. When Talli turned up at his house in a black leather mini and white tie-front shirt he’d known right then regardless of her driving skills she’d be the one coming home with a license. He’d been right too. Dean had failed and had to re-sit the test the following week. The memory put a smile on his face and distracted him long enough for them to reach their destination without any more heart palpitations.

“We’re here.” Talli braked hard, sending them both jolting forward. “Now once we get inside, I’ll show you where to get changed.”

“Changed?”

“And then we’ll get down to taking the pictures.”

She was out of the car and heading for the trunk before he could get another word out. Changed? What did she mean by changed? Dean tried to recall the original conversation as he climbed out of the car, but for the life of him he didn’t remember anything about changing. He didn’t have any more time to dwell on it though; as soon as he reached the back of the car, Talli began shoving small boxes of equipment at him. Left with the choice of dropping them or holding on, he did the only thing he could and held on tight. With arms full, he followed Talli into the building.

And walked into utter chaos.

The noise level was deafening and there were kids running everywhere. Dean tensed, waiting for impact. He clamped his arms tighter around the boxes, the cardboard squashing a little under the pressure, but nothing happened. It was only after peering around his armload that he noticed the conveniently place pool fencing just inside the front door. Someone had obviously thought the kids needed a corral and, while that might not be politically correct, it certainly seemed true.

Glancing around, Dean could see only four adults in the room. They were outnumbered by at least twenty children ranging from crawlers to those racing full speed on tiny legs. He shuddered at the thought of going in, but knew he had no hope of escape now he was here. His knowledge of kids came from television and the occasional encounter at the supermarket. The next few hours would certainly prove to be an education. A harried looking woman rushed over, dodging kids as she made her way towards them.

“Oh, good. You’re here.” The woman leaned over the fence and took one of the boxes from Dean.

“Sorry we’re late.”

“No worries, Talli. This way. I’ll show you where to set up and where you can get changed.”

With enviable skill, the woman juggled the box, then took a couple of bags from Talli, and popped the child-proof lock on the gate. Talli nudged him through ahead of her. Smart woman. He was more than ready to bolt back to the car and lock himself inside. At that moment one of the kids lying on the floor let out a blood curdling scream, but as none of the adults rushed to his side Dean figured there wasn’t an imminent medical emergency. He’d taken another couple of steps when two boys raced past him, the first cutting in behind him to run full circle around him.

Dean dodged, stumbled, and the boxes in his arms teetered. It took no more than a second, but seemed like a lifetime. The top box slipped. He lunged forward with a grunt just as the woman in front turned around. Demonstrating an athletic ability to rival any Olympian, she scooped the top box from the pile and steadied the remaining ones with her shoulder.

“Sorry about that.” She turned to the boys playing tag around his legs. “Joshua Bowmen and Nathan Bicknell, take yourselves outside if you’re going to play tag.”

To Dean’s surprise, both boys took off across the room, hollering and hooting as they went out the open doors. He could see more kids outside and again fought the urge to flee. Talli nudged him from behind; there was no getting out of what he’d agreed to do.

“Keep going. It’ll be a rush to be ready before the parents get here as it is. Don’t need you dawdling.” She bumped him again. “C’mon, Dean, move it.”

With only one choice, he followed the woman in front. They crossed the room full of kids and moved into a larger one filled with rows and rows of seats. The area in front of the chairs was set up with a large Christmas tree and a throne that was obviously meant for Santa. A rock settled in Dean’s stomach and he turned his head to look at Talli.

“Tell me I am not dressing up as Santa,” he growled.

Her eyes rounded as her gaze darted to meet his. Talli shook her head. “No. You’re n-not Santa.”

Okay, that was good. So why did the look on her face make the rock sink deeper? They reached the front of the room and there was no more time to press for details.

“I thought you could set up over here behind the tree.” The woman put the bags and boxes down. “That way the little ones won’t get into any of your equipment and you’re close to it for when we do the Santa pictures. You can use my office and the storeroom to get changed.”

“Thanks, Em.” Talli moved passed him. “Speaking of Santa, did he arrive yet?”

“Yeah,” Em grumbled. “I cannot believe that man is going to hold me to my promise.”

Talli laughed. “C’mon, one date with Wade won’t kill you.”

“No, but it might kill him.” Em smiled. “I’m sure I’ll survive. You know where everything is, but yell if you need something.”

“I think I’ve got everything, but thanks. We’ll get set up.”

Dean placed his load of boxes on the floor behind the tree. A closer look at the branches showed the decorations were handmade and he smiled at the misshapen, brightly colored snowmen, reindeer, and Santas. On the very top was an oversized star made of tinfoil. Smiling, he turned to point them out to Talli, only she didn’t give him a chance.

“Here.” She shoved a plastic bag at him. “That’s a storeroom. You can get changed in there and I’ll use Em’s office.”

He took the bag, but before he could look inside Talli moved behind him and placed both hands on his back. She gave him a hard shove and he had to step forward or fall on his face. Pushing until she’d maneuvered him into the small room, Dean found himself shut in before he could spin around and protest. Resigned to the inevitable, he open the bag and pulled out the item on top. Dean sucked in a breath.

“No.” She hadn’t.

Dropping the red and green bundle on the floor, he reached into the bag for the next piece.

“Hell no.” She couldn’t have.

Dean tipped the bag up and stared as a pile of red, green, and white velvet and fur at his feet. What the hell was Talli thinking? There was no way he was putting that thing on. Especially seeing how there didn’t appear to be enough material to cover his extra large body. He used his foot to spread the costume out and almost choked when he got a good look at the pants, or more accurately – tights.

“Talli!”

Christmas Wishes is available from -

ESCAPE PUBLISHING   ~   AMAZON   ~   iBOOKS  ~  KOBO

RHIAN CAHILL

www.rhiancahill.com

Repeat after me…you’re never too old to–

4 Jul

OK, just to set the record straight, I’m not ancient by any stretch of the imagination. For one, I have too many kids to keep me active for that :) . For another…I think in my head I’m still somewhere in my early thirties and man, I plan to keep it that way!

Being an author is my second career. I’ve already had one very successful career, about as far away as you can get from writing, in the IT industry. I can look back on this now and how it developed with some objectivity, but really…I surpressed my creative side for my more practical side. You know, I did want to eat back then. On a regular basis :) . So I did a business degree in college and put everything else on the back burner. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed what I did. I was good at it. I achieved all the goals career-wise and financially I set myself, but…it didn’t light my soul on fire.

it wasn’t that long ago, but I didn’t start writing until I was forty *mumble, mumble* something. At first, it was just an exercise to keep my over-active brain occupied when I quit working to spend more time with my family. And what do you know? It didn’t take long for me to ‘remember’ that this is what I always wanted to do, this is what I’d wished for, hoped for, dreamed of doing in the darkest, most secret recesses of my mind. I sorta, kinda feel like I’ve started over. Emotionally. Spiritually. But hey, that’s OK because I’m finally doing something that really feeds me. My soul, that is :) .

On this American Independence Day I’ve been reflecting about where I’m at and where I’m going with being an author. It’s a pretty exciting place to be but I’ve learned a lesson, especially with friends facing terribly health issues this year. Life is too short. It’s never too late. It’s never over till it’s over. And you’re never too old to follow a dream, no matter how big or small.

Happy 4th of July to those who celebrate. May you spend happy times with family and friends, stuff yourself with delicious food, stay safe and think about living YOUR dream.

And just for fun…how would you finish this sentence…  You’re never to old to–?

Happy Memorial Day!

28 May

Just a quick reminder of TWO things…

  • Tomorrow, we have a fantastic Guest Blogger here at Passionate Reads! Don’t miss Cristal Ryder with a sneak peak of her latest release, “Elemental Heat.”
  • Today is Memorial Day.

Between BBQ’s, beaches and just hanging out, please take a moment to remember and honor ALL of those who have served  our country and especially those who have made the ultimate sacrifice. They are the reason we enjoy the freedom we take for granted all too often.

 

REMEMBER our service men and women worldwide– past, present and future.

These brave men and women ARE the reason for the Memorial Holiday.

We at Passioante Reads…salute YOU.

Happy Cinco De Mayo!

5 May

Today is Cinco de Mayo (Spanish for May 5th) and while for most people that means nachos, margaritas and salsa — both the delicious condiment and the style of dancing — I’d thought I’d share some actual Cinco de Mayo facts. Both so we know what we should be toasting and also because you never know what can spark a story.

-Though many people think it’s Mexico’s Independence Day, it’s actually the celebration of the Battle of Puebla (May 5, 1862) and a part of France’s campaign to invade Mexico to collect war debts….which could be monetary, or a little more important like an alchemy guide that would ultimately give France control of the world.

-It’s a perfect example of the little guy beating the odds. A group of approximately 4,500 untrained Mexican soldiers took on 8,000 well armed, highly trained group of French Soldiers…and won. Perhaps they had a secret weapon? Maybe a secret shifter alliance that helped them beat the French?

-It was the last time that a foreign power acted on American soil. Who just got an alternate history bunny where the French won…and then spread their kingdom further and further into the states?

But before you walk away thinking this is just me pushing plot bunnies at you, I offer these. Margarita popsicles (click picture for recipe).

Adios!

________________________________________________________

Sasha

Who hopes you have a safe and responsible Cinco de Mayo celebration. If you want to hear more of Sasha’s ramblings, visit her at http://www.sashadevlin.com or follow her on Twitter @SashaDevlin

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