From the Author...
Who hasn’t been
infatuated with a sexy poster boy – actor, pop star, or football hero – even
though he was unobtainable? The heroine in my Hot Model Mine series is a
thriving author and hard-working mother nearing her forties. Tough,
independent, and having long ago lost faith in love, she dismisses her crush on
the cover model of her book to protect herself. What then can she do when that gorgeous
young man surprisingly falls for her, too?
I hope you enjoy
this tale of ‘impossible’ love, dead-honest and written with my heart.
Blurb:
When Andrea Johnson,
writing as author Cindy Vega, signed up for a Meet & Greet with
the cover model of her latest book, she didn’t expect sparks to fly. Yushka
is dangerously good-looking and too young for her. But their
connection is instantaneous, and during a photo shoot with the two, the
photographer picks up on their growing attraction. Seeing the potential
for the cover photo of the century, he decides to push their
comfort limits...
Be Warned: public
exhibition
Excerpt:
An
assistant calls Yushka’s name. Bare-chested, the Asian hunk appears from a
group of models, strolls to the spotlights, and waits in front of the camera
with the confident stance of a professional.
The
whole place quiets as if in awe. He’s unbelievably beautiful with his tanned,
bulging muscles and washboard-abs-to-die-for. When photographer Lemaître asks
him to undo his hair, a black waterfall lands on his shoulders and down his
back. A few muffled feminine squeals fill the silence.
One
by one, authors whose books he appears on get a few pictures taken with him in
flattering positions, wrapping their arms around his back or swallowed up in
his embrace, beaming like schoolgirls at their first prom.
Jealousy
rips through me so violently I can barely breathe, but my time is up soon, and
I hate that even more. I’m non-photogenic, and seeing pictures of myself makes
me sick. I’ve chosen a sexy, black top and matching short skirt for the
occasion, but looking my best doesn’t help. My stomach ties in a knot.
“Cindy
Vega,” an assistant calls.
Fuck,
that’s me. I’m dead.
“Go,”
Laurie says, giving me a small push.
All
muscles tense, I leave my safe corner and join Yushka. He greets me with a
placid face, but from the warmth in his pupils, I get a feeling he’s glad to
see me. Side by side, narrowing our eyes from the piercing light, we face
Lemaître and wait for orders.
Damn.
Being so near Yushka’s naked torso is unbearable, as is the heat from the lamps
shining on us. Sweat beads roll down the sides of my chest, between my breasts.
He endures, too. A thin film of sweat coats his golden skin, making it glow,
but he doesn’t seem bothered.
Lemaître
clears his throat. “Bon. Stand a
little closer. Cindy, this is for Eden Luna Publishing’s website. Officially,
we want authors happily meeting their cover models, but off the record, we want
sensual, we want heat. Readers will get off seeing your pictures like they do
reading your books.”
Stiff
as a rod, I nod agreement. I’d half expected this. Problem is, I hate being in
the spotlight with so many people watching, and I hate the notion of having my
photo all over the internet.
“Sooo,”
he continues, “I will ask you to just stand like this, facing me, and smile.
That is all. Yushka knows what he has to do.”
“Okay.”
Turning
to my side, Yushka puts a hot hand on my stomach and the other on the small of
my back. Though light, his touches destabilize me, as does the warm, musky scent
sneaking to my nostrils.
“Closer,”
Lemaître orders. “Bodily contact.”
Shit,
I’m fucked.
The
stud radiates heat as he approaches, sweaty chest sticking to my arm, heart
beating against my skin. His crotch barely brushes my hip, but each pore in my
body becomes acutely aware of him, on high alert. As last night’s intense
arousal replays in all of me, my inner thighs clench with renewed want.
Whispers
and low chuckles sound from both sides of the vast lobby. I try to forget the
hundred eyes following my every move, but can’t help being distracted, bathed
in full light and painfully self-conscious.
“That
is better.” Like a shooting gun, Lemaître’s camera clicks and the flash blinds
me repetitively. “Now, give him a smile, Cindy. You know the kind I want.”
My
throat so dry I can’t speak, I turn to Yushka.
He’s
very near, inches from my face, black pupils gleaming with mischief. Sweat
pearls on his face, making him look sexier than ever. Long, black hairs glue to
his forehead and cheeks. He smells of soap, his close shave making him look
baby-faced.
Seemingly
at ease, the heaving of his chest regular, he stares into my eyes. I can’t
believe his confidence. Modelling is his profession, but how does he stay so
fucking calm?
“You
wanna give me a smile?” he whispers, warm breaths brushing my chin. Behind me,
his large hand sneaks lower and palms my butt cheek. With that and his other
fingers splaying on my stomach, he pulls me to him, making me feel the entire
length and…hardness…of his cock on my hip.
I
suck in a breath.
His
lips curl up in a self-satisfied grin. “Hm, Andrea?
You wanna give me a smile?”
Oh
my fucking God. I can’t help but obey while my insides go up in flames.
Flashing
his teeth, he kneads my ass with a strong hand and pushes his full erection
against me. He knows what he’s doing, the devil. He knows slowly rubbing me
with his cock turns my pussy to burning liquid.
Somewhere,
a feminine gasp breaks the silence, followed by contained laughter.
“Très bien, we have a smile,” Lemaître
says, camera clicking, flash shooting. “Thank you, Cindy, that will be enough.
Next!”
Still
grinning and holding my look, Yushka slowly backs off, leaving chillier air
between us.
I’m
frozen. In shock, lust, need.
“Come
on, move it!” Lemaître calls. “We don’t have all day.”
No
shit.
Buy Links:
Author Bio:
I like my reads fast, hot, and edgy,
and strive to give my own stories the same intensity. After venturing into
dirty inner-city crime drama with my debut novel Wild Hearted, I divide my
writing time between psychological thriller, erotic contemporary romance, and
dripping erotica.
Author Links:
