These last two blocks are strictly property of Con Erison. On the left side of the street was the powerhouse; home to three of the city’s largest and oldest boilers. The boilers ran three turbines. One of which was almost totally responsible for generating the electricity for the New York Stock Market.
On the right side of the street is a transformer yard. The rows upon rows of transformers stood twenty-five feet above the ground. There was a constant hum of high voltage coming from this area.
Directly under the transformers are three, five million gallon oil tanks. These tanks store number-six fuel oil. This is an especially thick grade of oil and it has an extremely high burning temperature. The heavy, dark oil emit an offensive odor. Entire block from Ave. C to Ave. D along Fourteenth St. Held this foul petrolatum emanation.
Peter thought about what Bill had said. He was right. Both Peter and Bill, along with about three or four other guys had been trying to repair a worn out section of boiler tube in “Old #3”, the station’s biggest boiler and all thirteen stories of it was worn to shit. The smell of #6 oil attacked Peter’s nose bringing him out of his thoughts and back to his walk.
Peter strode up to the two large metal rolling doors of the stations main loading zone. The first of the two gates was rolled up about five feet. This was a definite breech of security and somebody was certain to get some shit because of it.
Vinnie Tee and Zoy, the two guys in charge of the receiving area, were sitting just inside of the open gate. They sat close together, backs leaned against a sixteen inch steam line that ran the length of the wall.
“What’s shakin’ kid ?” Zoy asked as he raised his blue and white paper coffee cup, giving Peter some sort of salute.
Peter turned and went inside the building. He knew that if he were seen entering from this gate he would get sent upstairs for a reprimand. Peter took off his glove and gave Zoy a firm handshake.
“How the fuck are ya Zoy ? “ Peter said as Zoy offered a sip of his piping hot coffee. “No thanks man. “You know sitting on that cold pipe is no good for your asshole Vince.” Peter said as he turned toward Vinnie Tee and put his glove back on.
Vinnie took a sip of his steaming coffee,” Fuck you Parker, what about Zoy’s asshole.”
“Roy’s been down here in receiving sittin’ on his fat ass for twenty years now. Ain’t no way the cold could get up to his asshole.” Peter laughed as he ducked back out under the door.
He was followed by a foot long piece of three-inch pipe that went skidding by his feet. He heard Vinnie Tee laughing and Zoy grumbling as he continued to the front entrance.

(All names and persons herein are fictitious.)

The concept of time and losing time began to float into Peter’s head. He shook it off. Peter now had thirty-eight minutes to get from Union Square to the East River (FDR) Drive, which was eight avenues out. Along the way he had to stop and pick up breakfast, as well as food and drink to last him throughout the day.

He had the option of taking the L train, which would carry him six blocks in the direction that he wanted to travel, walking, or taking a bus. Without hesitation, Peter flew out of the now stopped train and ran up the up escalator to the street level.

The L train was out of the question- it only came once every half hour on the half hour and that would mean standing around for eight minutes waiting and God knows that that eight minutes would seem like an eternity.

Once out of the subterranean environment, Peter felt the cold again. The hairs in his nose tingled as he drew in his first deep breath of the cold air. He saw the M bus approaching out of the corner of his right eye, he also noticed there were no cars in front of it. Peter bolted out into the street.

The blare of an air horn and the screeching of tires hit his ears. He spun instantly around to see a New York Post delivery truck skidding to a stop a foot in what was now the space  in front of him.

He actually watched the truck come to a complete stop then thought about what Fiona had said about instinct. He froze, didn’t move a muscle. Was that natural? They say deer freeze in front of cars or maybe that was headlights? Without deciding Peter gave the driver of the truck the finger and shot across the street for the original target.

He had successfully crossed to the other side of Fourteenth Street and boarded the now stopped M bus. He swiped his metro card in the slot provided.

(This trip would be free. The city allowed mass transit riders the luxury of a free transfer to a bus from a train with-in the designated half hour time limit. This was an effort by the city to encourage more people to ride the city’s busses.)

Peter walked directly to the rear of the bus, inhaled the warm air saturated with the malodorous aroma of urine and funk. He sat in his usual bus expedition seat, direct center of the last row of seats right over the engine. This was the warmest seat on the bus and from this vantage point he could see all the activity on it.

Peter took the ride for five blocks and got off just before the bus made it’s mandatory turn onto avenue b. Peter got up and grabbed the pressure sensitive handles of the back doors, heard the mechanism engage, the pneumatic action kicked in and the doors opened releasing him back into the ever brightening morning.

Peter had to pick up his food, basically consisting of dairy products. Peter had to his great surprise, stopped eating meat. He didn’t like to call himself a vegetarian as Fiona did. She had not been eating red meat and now stopped all consumption of animal flesh.

One morning back in August, Peter was making his lunch before work. He was skillfully erecting a beautiful chicken salad sandwich.

“Fiona, do you want me to make you a sandwich?” Peter called out to her.

She was just getting done with her second morning mask. The first helped to remove all the skin that died while she slept. The second was supposed to hydrate and refresh.

All Peter knew was that Fiona’s skin always looked super. She had the world’s most beautiful complexion, Peter liked to think.

“What exactly is the “chef of the future” preparing this fine morning?” Fiona’s words hit Peter’s ears with a smile.

Man- I love this girl, Peter thought to himself. “ I’m making perfect chicken salad sandwiches.” Peter yelled over the now steaming espresso machine.

“I can’t. I have parrots today.” Was the response Peter received.

He turned off the coffee machine and took off his “kiss the chef” apron and went to find out what the hell that was supposed to mean.

As Peter crossed the length of the apartment the scent of flowers grew stronger. He reached the bathroom door and was sure he recognized the aroma. Peter pushed on the door.

“Its gardenia, don’t you just love it.”  Fiona had a new thing. Every day she was to smell like a different flower. Be a different flower, she said it was supposed to help her modeling, or posing or something.

Peter didn’t care, “What do you mean– you got parrots today?”

Fiona turned and gave Peter a wet kiss and answered, “well today at the clinic, I know that I’ve got to work with a couple of sick parrots and well, how do you think they would feel if they saw me eating a chicken salad sandwich?”

Peter was amazed! “So you don’t want the birds to see you eat– a bird.” He held onto the dramatic pause and then continued—“So let’s say, one day you have a tuna salad sandwich and a little girl comes in, in the afternoon with her sick goldfish and that little sick goldfish looks up at you through his little bowl and smells tuna on your breath! “

“Oh my god Peter, what am I doing  “ Fiona shrieked as she burst into tears.

She threw herself on Peter, wrapped her sweet, gardenia-smelling arms around him and sobbed. She cried and cried some more. Peter felt sorry for her– she was really sensitive.

From that day on Fiona would not consume the flesh of any animal, she went as far as not allowing it in her home.

Peter had discovered this one night when he showed up with chicken burritos and Fiona started crying and demanded that Peter take, “those disgusting things” outside.

Peter kind of just followed along and out of some sort of weird respect for that day in the bathroom, he too no longer eats meat.

Peter let the heavy glass door slowly swing back to place as he sauntered out into the brightening morning . Living on the east side of the city was definitely a benefit, Peter thought as he began noticing the beautiful sunrise; which he did every morning provided he wasn’t too hung over or if it was going to rain.

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“Me thinkith I shall taketh the sturdy iron horse this here fine morning.” Peter said this aloud while crossing the street with an Asian lady and her baby.
Peter took a glance at his watch before slipping on his cashmere lined leather gloves. 6:08, he had to pick up the pace if he were going to catch the #6 train to 14th street. He knew there was one at thirteen after. There was a really cute Spanish girl on that train; the last car from the back. Peter thought she might be Puerto Rican but he really didn’t have a clue. He’d seen her six times in the last three weeks. Peter loved synchronicity.

He never spoke to her, just sat close enough to catch a whiff of her. She always smelled like roses. Peter never knew himself to be partial to the smell of roses but on this girl it was wonderful. He saw the way she would look at him, always trying to appear as if she were just perusing the always nearly-empty train car.

At that time in the morning only the blue collar workers, the all niters, and the freaks rode the trains. The suits didn’t show up for another hour or so. As he would sit across from her he would devour her with his eyes, he was safe behind the cover of his ever-present sun glasses.

As he sat there thinking up sordid and sexual scenarios, becoming aroused by the rhythmic ride provided by the train, making sure his object of affection was none the wiser. He would sometimes catch himself thinking, “is this normal behavior? Do all men sit across from women and think-up sex stories. Does this happen to Fiona all day long? Was he a mental deviant?” Then poof. The bell would ring and the car would come to a stop.
Peter only took the train one stop to 14th from 23rd. All this mental and sexual energy was generated in less time than it took to drink a cup of coffee. Peter had actually noticed this one morning.

Peter had walked the two blocks in three minutes, he had two minutes to catch the 6:13 train. He turned in to the staircase of the train station on the north east corner of 23rd and Park, flew down the long narrow flight o’stairs, jumping over what appeared to be a family of bums, (but who knew if they were related), and stepped up to the turnstile.

Almost instinctually, (for Fiona had told Peter that, ‘that is what separates us from the lower animals, that we don’t follow our instincts’) he unzipped and reached into the left inside pocket of his heavy black leather and pulled out his card holder. He took off his right glove and proceeded to remove his metro card. Peter slid his car through the required slot and proceeded to slam his thigh against the steel arm of the turnstile. There was a loud bang and Peter now had a searing pain in his right quadriceps.

“What the fu@k!” Peter bellowed as he rubbed his leg and looked down into the small liquid crystal display “zero balance.” He couldn’t believe it; he had two minutes and now this.

Peter turned to see the token booth attendant watching him. He hurried out of the turnstile entrance, trotted over to the enclosure, and slapped down his trusty metro card as he pulled a wrinkled ten spot out of the front pocket of his worn five o’ones.

The token attendant gave him a broad smile and took his money. She was a rather round dark brown woman and wore her hair in braids made up of two shades of pink, or was in burgundy. Her red rouge shone off of her beautiful brown skin almost as brightly as her lipstick off of her big red lips. Peter liked that she had a gold tooth, maybe two, it was a quick smile.

The size of her breasts immediately aroused Peter; the way they swelled up over her too-tight bra and out over her much-too-tight transit employees shirt. He imagined how much tension the thread holding her button onto her shirt must be under, possibly creating a sound only dogs can hear.

Peter wanted another look at those teeth. “Why do they call this place a token booth when you come here to charge up your metro card?”

The round brown woman lit up at the sound of Peter’s deep voice. She slid his card back to him and gave him a great big grin. He was right– two gold teeth. “You have a nice day, you sweet ‘ting.” She said in a melodic island accent. He flashed her his own toothy grin; Peter had perfect white teeth and loved to show them off when ever he got the chance.

He read her name which was emblazoned on her shirt, took another look at her incredible melons, winced at the sight of the straining button and said in a deep even tone, “Now you try to stay warm in their Helen. Have a nice day.”

He heard the #6 train rumbling into the station. As he turned to go through the turnstile once again, he witnessed something he couldn’t believe. The [alleged] family of sleeping bums had obviously heard the train too, for they were now in one cumulative effort trying to pull two huge piles, of what to Peter appeared to be junk, through the arms of the turnstile. There were four, maybe five of them. The smell was awful.

Peter silently stood as the 6:13 pulled into the station. The bell rang the doors slid open, the bell signaled again and they shut. The train proceeded out of the station heading south, final destination some place in Queens, all the time carrying his rose-scented girl. From his vantage point Peter was not able to see the second to last car but he waited, there was nothing else to doing. The train picked up speed and the long line of cars made their way out of the station.

There she was. He knew it, he saw her whiz by. Sitting just where he knew she would, far side, second to last seat all the way in the back. That seat was a two-seater, one was usually guaranteed to sit alone in that seat at that time in the morning.

Don’t let the romance disappear because your pockets and wallet don’t run deep. Here’s five ways you can still have a wonderful time together without the hassle of long lines and spending a fortune. So, grab your honey and have your own little escape.

Five Romantic Ways to Spend Time With Your Love That Won’t Cost You a Bundle

1. Romanic movie marathon

My top ten picks:

1. Breakfast At Tiffany’s (1961)

2. Dirty Dancing (1987)

3. When Harry Met Sally (1989)

4. Pretty Woman (1990)

5. City of Angels (1998)

6. Sweet November (2001)

7. Kate and Leopold (2001)

8. Sweet Home Alabama (2002)

9. The Notebook (2004)

10. The Time Traveler’s Wife (2009)

2. Your Own Fondue! Prepare your very own chocolate covered fruit desert and feed each other deliciousness!

First, buy some of your favorite fruits. Choose from either or all fruits, like cherries, fresh strawberries, pineapple, blueberries or apples.

If you are your snuggle buddy aren’t fruit fanatics, or simply want to try something new, you can get walnuts, almonds, and pecans and dip away!

Next, get some dark, milk, and or white melting chocolate. If you are going to use the pineapple and apples, cut them up into edible slices. Place all your fruit pieces or nuts into a large bowl and start dipping into the chocolate delight! Whatever the fruit or nut may be, chocolate makes it much tastier!

3. Picnic for two. Have a picnic in the park or even in your backyard if you have a lawn with privacy. Leave all electronic devices at home, or if you must, leave them in the car. If you’re driving there, leave the car parked, and take a stroll through the park first. Then come back for your meal. This is your time together. There is nowhere to rush to so enjoy each moment together. If you’re feeling adventurous, bring along two bikes and you can both ride together. If you happen to live near New York City, take a walk through Central Park, where you can find your own cozy spot just for the two of you. Or, if you are up for the walk, cross over the Brooklyn Bridge. There are breathtaking view of New York and perfect spots of photos.

4. Sale Sale Sale! Look through the local paper for listings of garage sales, flea markets, farmer’s markets or even an arts and crafts show. You don’t have to buy anything, but just can spend the morning or afternoon looking at antiques and other peoples treasures. Who knows what you may find!

5. Touchy Feely Time. Massages these days can cost a fortune. Why pay the money, when you can have your own, free of charge at home-by yours truly? Take turns giving each other a massage, slowly, showing your partner you care about their needs. Both of you have had a hard week at work, and need the down time to rest and unwind. You can use lotion or oil, depending on what your partner prefers.

 Remember, being romantic doesn’t mean you have to spend your whole paycheck in one night. Take the time to talk to one another and understand what each of you needs and wants. Romance doesn’t have a price tag. Spending time together, making each other laugh, and listening to one another’s thoughts and feelings is as intimate as you can get. Go ahead, and enjoy!

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Peter swung around to the edge of the bed and put his bare feet on the wooden floor. “ What the fu@k! “ The floor was freezing. He wrapped himself in the sheet and blanket from the bed and walked toward the bathroom where he heard the shower running.

As Peter opened the door to the bathroom steam poured out around his wild bed-head hairdo.
“How’s my little macadamia nut this morning?” Peter tried to sound as awake and fresh as possible despite the fact that he actually had a slight headache and his mouth felt like it was coated with wallpaper glue.

He quickly gargled with the blue mouthwash, the generic brand, Fiona said it was just as good as the other one, at one third the price. At this point it could have been Aqua-Velva, his mouth tasted like shit.

Peter pulled open the shower curtain slightly and slipped inside behind Fiona. Shampoo in her hair and now rinsing it off, Peter entered at the perfect time. Just as Fiona finished her rinse and reached for the conditioner, Peter grabbed her from behind.

In a flash, Peter had Fiona’s elbow lodged in his solar plexus. The wind gone from his lungs, he squatted down and tried to regain his breath.

“Oh my god! Honey, I am so sorry, I didn’t know you were there.” She bent down and wiped Peter’s hair from his face.

He looked up at her and gave her a big goofy smile. “I guess those kickboxing classes are really helping.” He said as he stood. The air flowed freely again. “Maybe next time I’ll bang pots and pans together for a while before I get in the shower with you.” Peter rubbed his now sore spot.

“Awe, let me make it better for you sweetie.” Fiona began to kiss Peter’s strong solid chest.
His body was sculpted so well, she imagined him, her statue. Something only an artist could create, for all of god’s creatures had flaws.

“Hey, why was the window open? It’s fu@king freezing in the apartment.”

Fiona stopped kissing Peter long enough to give him an answer. “Well, last night you were complaining how I always keep the place so hot and I just figured…”

Peter got her meaning and gave her a sly knowing look then proceeded to guide Fiona’s head toward his now thick, pulsating member.

Peter got dressed in record time. He closed the window, after he got out of the shower. So the room was still really cold.

He had turned on the radio while making his morning espresso, his morning libation, and had heard that a cold front had blown in from Canada and it was going to be cold for the rest of the week.

“No shit, it’s late November; it’s probably going to be cold for the next three months. What a racket those weather guys got.” He thought and listened to the rest of the report. ‘The current temperature was now twenty-two degrees and it was supposed to get colder before it got warmer.”

Peter pulled his double-knit sweatshirt over the sweatshirt he was already wearing. Downed the remaining espresso, took a hit on a roach he had in his pocket from the night before. Slipped into his black steel-toed combat boots, threw on his black biker leather and zipped up tight.

He checked in on Fiona before he split. She was in the middle of masking or toning, or something when Peter stuck his head in. “Bundle up today Sweetie, it’s cold as a bitch out there.”

Fiona never understood Peter’s aggression about the cold, he grew up here. As for herself she loved the cold, never experiencing it as a child, she found it exhilarating, plus it helped to keep the pores tight.

“Okay honey.” She turned with a smile, still naked, standing in front of the full-length mirror in the steamy room. Peter got a big wet kiss and helped himself to a handful of backside before slipping back out. He wiped the sweet smelling cream left from Fiona’s kiss from his face. He checked, nope not cocoa butter.

He put on his black wool cap, pulled it down over his ears, slipped on his sleek black sunglasses, checked his reflection once, adjusted his hat, grabbed his backpack and left for work.

It was now five minutes to six. Peter had to be at check-in at seven. He worked at the fourteenth street generating station for Con Erickson; the city’s producer of electricity.

Although he only lived on the third floor, he waited the three or four minutes for the elevator. Peter enjoyed all the luxuries that came along with living in a luxury building. The sun deck on the roof, the doorman service, and especially the elevator. Most of Peter’s other girlfriends had lived in basements or in walk-ups.

Peter also enjoyed the synchronicity of the city. He would see the same people at the same time in the same place almost every day.

           Take a deep breath and prepare to immerse your mind and body to fall in love with the ferocious passion, devotion and powerful compassion two individuals can have for one another, in Lisa Marie Rice’s premier in her Protector series romance, Into The Crossfire. Rice tastefully weaves danger intertwined with a love so strong that it drives a former Navy SEAL, Sam Reston to take all his prior training and do everything in his power and beyond to save Nicole Pearce, the woman that sends his body, mind, and heart into shock.

            Reston, founder of Reston Security with the help of his two best friends, also known as his brothers, and also ex-Special Forces agents, is nothing less of extraordinary. Although at first glance, his demeanor may seem intimidating and his strong willed physique sends the wrong message to Pearce, a stunning woman, both physically and in her dedication to care for her ill father and keep afloat of her brand new company. Reston had a harsh childhood growing up, with two negligent mother’s and made a promise to himself to protect women and children from harm. Now, his life revolves around protecting battered women and children and keeping them safe from violent creatures, who are beneath what a genuine man is. While Reston is on an undercover job, he manages to avert his attention to the alluring beauty across the hall from him, and makes it his duty to make her his- no matter what the consequences.

          Although Reston has had his fair share of beautiful women, none of them even dare to compare to the breath taking gorgeous woman that walks past his office every morning. His desire for her is burning inside him and consumes his thoughts and his sexual yearning. Pearce, a well traveled and educated, intelligent and politely mannered woman sees nothing but a dingy, unshaven and in a desperate need for a head to toe grooming, huge bulk of a man. When Sam comes to her rescue after she leaves her office key at home, her payment to him comes in the form of a dinner that leads to a ground shaking and skin pulsating relationship.

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       Underneath all of Sam’s undercover grime, Nicole finds a handsome, honest and honorable man. They both plunge head first into the unknown that leaves them gasping for more of each other.

Excerpt:

           It was unthinkable that there be anything separating them. It was as if they both came to that conclusion together, at the very same instant. She reached up, swept his jacket off those broad shoulders. Her shaking fingers tugged at his tie and before it floated to the ground, she was at this shirt buttons, freeing the round bits of plastic from the eyeholes, pulling the tails out from his pants. She couldn’t take off his shirt because his hands were on her bottom, holding her up, so the shirt fell off his shoulders just enough for her to feel the curly chest hairs and hard muscles of his chest against her. It was maddening that she still had the barriers of her dress and bra between them. She ached to feel him, hard to soft. Absorb some of that strength and heat through her skin.

          Nicole, whose whole body is utterly rattled in the most profound way, tries desperately to comprehend what Sam means to her. Despite being preoccupied with tending to her father and building up her company, nothing can keep her away from Sam. The fierce bond Reston and Pearce share is beyond sexual intimacy and is tested in the final seconds he must protect her. Sam’s animal instinct hunger for Nicole may have been physical at first, but his whole world becomes blurred with only her in focus, when danger quietly slips into her business door, threatening her life and the innocent lives in New York. With the help of his brothers, Reston must step head on into the crossfire, to save the life of the woman his body and intellect aches for, her dying father, and New York.

Purchase your copy here.

Also, be on the look out for an exclusive interview with the author, Lisa Marie Rice! 

This was her fifth year in New York. She came to the great metropolis after spending eight years in Florida. Fionna went through the public school system, although there was no lack of money. Francesco was still making a good living as captain of the “Ecstasy” a ship with the Carnivale Cruise lines.

She continued to study at the University of Florida and she graduated with a degree in Veterinary Medicine. After graduation and after peeling herself away from her over opinionated and over protective mom, she came north to New York.

Since her arrival, in this the greatest city in the world, she has been working at the animal emergency room on the East River Drive and 34th street. She loves her work there. Helping life, keeping these poor animals alive and healthy. She always attributed her love for animals as a result of her growing up in such a beautiful place.

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Along with the job at the animal hospital, she’s taking night courses at N.Y.U. Med School for Veterinary Surgery. Two or three more years and she will be able to perform operations on the animals herself rather than just prepping them for surgery.
Fiona put down her ape’s anatomy book, slid out of the hammock, and went across the room to the refrigerator. As she opened the split doors, the light descended on her long, lean, permanently tanned body. Being a combination of Polynesian and Italian, she grew into an amazing vision of beauty. She had long black hair with a gentle bend, which from any given angle seemed to be cradling her strong face. Wonderful, warm brown almond-shaped eyes. Black, thick eyebrows with a perfect arch to help accentuate her moody eyes. A long roman nose, full red lips, and a petite cleft in her chin.
This was all placed perfectly on a facial structure that would turn heads. Her jawline was so precise and her cheekbones so high. She was a Sofia Lauren crossed with Tia Carrera. At least that is what a scout from Ford Models had told her.
That encounter took place about a year ago. Since then, at least after her first meeting at the exclusive modeling agency, she had been building herself an impressive portfolio.
Doing runway work and print advertisements seemed to be paying off. She has been able to pay all of her school loans, buy the mini-loft that she was graciously sharing with her boyfriend Peter [for about a year now], and she was banking a lot of money in hopes of opening her own veterinary surgery center, as soon as she could get the degree.
She reached into the cool compartment and pulled out a bottle of pineapple juice, lifted the container to her mouth and took a long refreshing drink. The light from the open refrigerator door enveloped her long, naked torso. Her small, firm, brown, breast seemed just buds as she leaned back and drank. Long sinewy arms stretched from her naked trunk like tender young branches reaching toward the sky.
Pineapple juice always seemed to do the trick for her whenever she was stressing out, whether it was school, work, family, or Peter. It brought her back, back to her home, her paradise in the sun.
The door to the apartment suddenly swung open. Peter tiptoed in as he noticed the refrigerator light on. He put down his jacket and walked directly to the thermostat on the wall.
“You always got this damn thing turned up so high, you’d think you were back in Hawaii.” He said as he turned to go into the bathroom.
He could hear bottles clanking in the fridge. Then the door slamming shut. “ Is someone in a pissy mood?” He said as toothpaste splattered on the mirror over the sink where he was currently brushing his teeth.

As he approached the small full-sized bed the two shared, he admired the turn of Fiona’s hip. The way it dove down deep to her waist when she lay on her side like that. Even through the cover of the sheet and the dim light shining in the large window on the opposite side of the room, Peter could not help take a moment and admire his girlfriend from behind.
“Are you going to get into bed or what?” Fiona shot without turning.
“Well, what is the what?” Peter asked.
“ What- what? What are you talking about?” Fiona finally asked, not knowing if she was in the mood for one of Peter’s usual word games right now.
Peter climbed into the bed behind her putting his arm over her side. He began to whisper into her ear,
“Well you said get into bed “or what” so I just want to know what the “or what” is.”
“ Oh man, you must be really stoned.” Fiona said then let out a sigh.
“Somebody’s been at the pineapple juice. What’s wrong sweetie? Why the long face?” Peter tried to sound sincere, although he knew Fiona hated that line.
Fiona’s last name, “Facialonga”, means “long face” in Italian. She hated that old line but at times like this Peter just couldn’t help himself. He loved it when Fiona got mad. Her face would clench, her body would get even tighter than it was normally and her eyes were even more piercing than usual.
Fiona made no response to his last remark. Peter could feel himself getting aroused. Besides the wonderful feeling of tension he had created, Fiona had an incredible scent and it drove Peter crazy. Fiona always smelled like cocoa butter. He didn’t even know if she used it. He never saw any in the apartment. He believed it was her smell, just coming out of her pores.
He ran his hand down the long line of her side. Following the deep drop of her waist, up over the full, sweet swing of her hip, down onto her thigh, and on his way around to the front. Suddenly, Fiona sprung like a tightly wound spring and spun over under his hand. He missed his target; he was now on her other thigh.
“Why do you insist on coming home so late every night ? You go out with that Max guy every night, get f@#*ed up on god knows what and then come home wanting me to be your love toy.” She stopped long enough to take a breath.
Peter almost started to answer when she started in on him again.
“You know that I have an early spinning class on Wednesdays, then there’s my work, the photo shoots I need my sleep for, I have exams coming up in school.” She stopped again.
“ Yeah, well-” was all Peter could manage before she continued.
“And if that’s not enough… You’ve got work in the morning. How do you expect to get up at five o’clock when you come strolling in here at such ungodly hours, and I know that you have random drug tests at work. Why do you insist on tempting fate?”
By this time Peter’s eyes had adjusted to the light. Fiona was raised up on one arm, beaming her dark eyes right into his soul,
Peter watched the silken sheet slowly slide down off of Fiona’s small strong shoulder. Her bare brown breasts now fully exposed, nude nipples fully erect. With each breath she took her lean, long torso became more taught. Like small steel bands the rippling muscles around her ribs tightened.
Peter had stopped listening a while ago. Fiona began to sense this. “Are you even listening to a word I’m saying!”
Peter saw her whole body tighten in a split second, so engrossed was he with the image in front of him, he was rendered deaf. Unable to hear the last question, Peter only could witness the result of it being left unanswered.
Fiona sprung from her leaning position landing squarely in the center of Peter’s chest. She grabbed his long black hair and started kissing him wildly.
She continued to kiss him as he watched her center slide down his rippling abdominal section leaving behind a shimmering path. She come to rest on his hips, using a swiveling motion, something Peter attributed to her being Hawaiian, she slid him inside.
Their eyes locked in the dim light, “ I’m a bad girl.” Fiona said as she continued to slowly gyrated her hips communicating to Peter all the ancient stories of the islands.
“Complain, complain, that’s all I do. How can you stand me?” She never changed the pace but with each slow turn of her well-rounded hip she tightened her grip on Peter.
Peter touched the face of his seductress, gave her a toothy grin, and put his strong muscular arms behind his head. He was settled in and was going to enjoy the ride.

By Letty Livingston, Relationship Expert and Advice Columnist

Why is it that we are so engaged in hot summer hookups in July’ I’ll fill you in; it is the combination of the rising mercury combined with our body chemistry that sets off this annual libidinous phenomenon. In the summer months we shed our heavy winter coats, exposing more of our skin to the sun and to others. We soak up the rays and our bodies give off a scent. Now, even though we use deodorants, antiperspirants, and perfumes and colognes, we all have our own distinct “aroma.”

It is this bouquet that sends signals to receptors in the proboscises of other people which make them either attracted or repelled to or from us, respectively. Undoubtedly, pheromones play a significant part in our mating rituals. One’s scent is what can be the element that makes a simple smile on the street turn into an impromptu romantic interlude. And yes, we have an exponentially greater chance of picking up someone’s scent in the hedonistic heat of a July day than we do in, let’s say, midwinter.

Of course, June is a warm month and August and September are both significantly hotter than July, but it seems that in July the temperature is spot on for our bodies to emit just the right amount of sweet sweat to attract others. The hotter months tend to make us a tad overly pungent and the cooler are just that, a bit too cool for the steamy stuff to chemically click.

With that in mind, keep yourself hydrated and wear your UV protection but keep the skin bared and your nose clear because chances are there may be an unsettling scent that will waft in your direction this month and you will be moved to be amorous. Be open to all aspects of summer luvin’ that come in July, for there is no greater tingle than one that is unexpected.

~LL~

help@letlettyhelp.com

Two tall palm trees stood in the far opposite corners of the room, their fronds gently grazing the 13-foot ceiling. A hammock hung in front of the apartments only window. It was actually a large sliding glass door, stretching from floor to ceiling.

It lead out onto a small, no correct that, a very small terrace. Neighbors used their outdoor spaces to store bicycles, ironing boards, ab rollers, things of that nature.

Fiona chose to use the meager space as a flower box. She loved the smell of the soil; the feel of it in her hands, caring for each tender young sprout or tiniest of seed as wonderfully as she treated the rest of God’s creatures. Not to mention all of the pretty flowers that seemed always in bloom no matter what season.

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Growing up on the island of Hawaii until the age of ten, Fiona had wonderful memories of a childhood filled with beautiful flowers, caring people, and sacred traditions. Everything seemed to be so much better back home.
Coming to the mainland soon after her tenth birthday, Fiona found herself in Miami, Florida. She lived there with her mother Rose, a beautiful native of Hawaii, and her father Francesco.
Francesco Facialonga, Fiona’s father, was the captain of “la Josipina [the Josephine]”. A ship in the fleet of “Sorrelle di Mare [Sisters of the Sea]” an Italian cruise line. Francesco received the Hawaiian route as his first assignment.
This was wonderful news for him. Francesco had never been outside of Rome, Italy. He always dreamed of going to far away places. Lush tropical paridisios filled his fantasies. Now his dreams were to come true on this his first time out of Rome and his first time to paradise.
His maiden voyage was wonderful, more than had ever hoped for. Francesco had met Rose Ho, a native Hawaiian girl. On that trip he vowed his love for the beautiful Rose, his Hawaiian rose. Soon after; he moved to Hawaii, married Rose, and Fiona was to follow.
Their the family seemed a happy one, alas all families have their problems.
Rose suffered from complications during her delivery with Fiona. She was not able to have any more children. Rose always said that she never felt this was a misfortune, although she was only seventeen when this happened.
Rose had met Francesco only a year earlier. She thought he was a wonderful man, so handsome in his uniform. So much different than all the natives she was raised around, so worldly, so European.
From the time she was a young girl, Rose’s grandparents kept her out of contact with the tourists as much as possible. They felt the visitors brought bad energy along with them and this was disrupting the harmony of Hawaii.

Rose was raised by her father. Her mother died while giving birth to her. Then at the age of ten her father left her at the grandparent’s home, never to return to pick her up.
Her father worked as a fisherman and diver. That day while diving for abalone, it is said he took one last deep breath and never came to the surface again.
Rose’s grandparents raised her from that day on. There was no court case or a signing over of custody. These were natives, people of tradition and they intended on keeping it that way.
They wanted Rose to have a long life of tradition and to marry a native like herself. For her to have plenty of little native babies to carry on their history and their customs.
All of their hopes had come to a halt on that fateful day when rose had met Francesco. Rose, all of sixteen years, storms into her grandmother’s kitchen proclaiming her undying love and devotion for some Italian boat captain.
Rose’s age was definitely an issue but not in the expected way. Traditionally by the age of sixteen a girl is given to a young man as his bride in exchange for some sort of dowry.
Whenever the subject would arise she had always just left the room no longer to discuss it. She was never aware that the whole time her grandfather had a plan to marry her off in the months soon to come.
Rose always resented the way her grandparents forced her into being so traditional. Her father had never made these ridiculous demands of her. Having to wear the costumes that the natives wore for the tourist every day in the hotels and there were never any tourists around to see her, just a bunch of natives hanging around speaking their native tongue. A language which she was presently being forced to learn. All of this and now she was expected to marry a native boy.
“I don’t even like native boys!” Rose cried as she stormed out of her grandmother’s kitchen for the last time.
That was it, no quarrels, no threats. Rose had made her choice. In two months time Rose and Francesco were married. Nine months later, almost to the day, Fiona was born.
On this day, either by curse or by nature, Rose would bear her first and only child, a beautiful little girl.
Should she feel lucky seeing how her mother had given her life for her when she was born? Rose’s dad always told her, ‘it was because mommy loved you so much that she died for you’
Maybe coming so close to death herself during the delivery and not dying could mean that she did not love her daughter enough.
Francesco went into shock, not only will his beautiful young bride not be able to have anymore children but she managed to give him a baby girl on her first and only opportunity.
What to do? What about the family name? He had always planned to bring his new family back home to Rome at some point. But now?
Rose was able to have one healthy, beautiful, baby and to that baby she would devote all of her love and attention, at least that was her initial plan.
She now had her own family. She would be well again soon and in the embrace of her new small clan. Rose soon began feeling the pressures of a young wife being left alone to care for her baby as her husband went off to earn the money.
Francesco drowned himself in his work, (pardon the pun). He was at sea more than twenty days a month, finding it more comforting spending time in other ports of call, with the other ship’s officers, doing who knows what to forget their cumulative shitty existences.
Rose knew something was wrong. One did not need experience in this field to be able to detect a problem. What could she do? She blamed herself, or possibly her family legacy of not being able to provide a male to your husband.
“Was that possibly why daddy never came back?” The thought had never occurred to her before now. Of course, her father never drowned, he left her to go remarry and have a real family. A family where the wife could give her husband many children, including a namesake.
She had never before realized the importance of being able to have a baby boy, never having a mother to tell her or siblings to help her become aware of this important fact.
Rose had no evidence to support this new scenario that she came up with but with no one to tell her she was possibly wrong, the idea became fact.
She slipped deeper and deeper into her depressed world, with no one to call. Her family respected her choice, now she had to respect it too. There was no family for her only her Fiona.
Fiona loved growing up on the island. She had a beautiful room in her parent’s house. She had lots of friends in school and she was just starting to like boys.
She never suspected her mother was in any pain. Her mother had been unhappy for so long now, that this was how Fiona knew her to be.
Upon arriving home from school one afternoon she learned the news that they, her and her parents, would be moving to the mainland.
“Why, why now?” She began to sulk.
Rose assured her that the mainland would be fun for the both of them, finally leaving the island.
“But I don’t want to leave the island!” Fiona shrieked then began to cry.
Rose explained to her still sobbing daughter that it was either that they all had to go or her father would have to go live on the mainland on his own.
“We have no choice, the cruise line changed his route after all of these years.” Rose finally let go. “And there is no way in hell I’m going to let your father move to the mainland by himself!”
Rose’s deep brown eyes filled to the brim with tears and before pouring down her smooth tanned cheeks, they sat and glistened on her bottom lids. Gaining power and emotional value for her awed daughter who now watched her mother prepare to cry in front of her for the very first time.
Fiona had believed she had heard her mother sobbing behind the closed door of her bedroom but this was something incredibly new and powerful. Her mother the woman of stone, was now about to cry.
Finally falling, rivers of free flowing fluid spilled from Rose’s eyes. This incredible sight made Fiona’s own eyes start to flow with the same liquid. The two embraced as never before. The powerful hug lasted as long as the tears flowed, which seemed like an eternity.
As the sobs subsided and their embrace turned into a touch then faded into space between them, the two looked at each other differently now.
Fiona could not believe it, her father was the cause of all this turmoil in her life. The man who she hardly ever saw, the man who was out to sea twenty or so days a month, the man who never showed her any affection or paid her any attention when he was around. Why should she have to leave for him? Why should they have to leave paradise?

But when a mysterious “secret admirer” sends Sam a beautiful bouquet with a death threat attached, Blade wastes no time in volunteering to be her bodyguard – prompting him to question why he is so concerned about this woman beyond her anatomy,  stirring him to address his true feelings for her, and inspiring him to make a sensual confession of his own…

This novel is the 16th book in the Madaris Family and Friends series and Jackson, who is described by Publisher’s Weekly as “prolific” hits the nail on the head in her quest to create a novel that is equal parts sexy and suspenseful.

Excerpt:

He didn’t mean to kiss her. In fact, he had decided after last night that he wouldn’t come within ten feet of her again. But there was something about Samari Di Meglio that got to him on a level no other woman could. She had done more than just get under his skin. She had gotten into other places in his body, as well. Places he didn’t want to think about now.

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Instead he wanted to concentrate on this-the taste of her, the feel of her tongue tangling with his. The sensations of having his mouth locked with hers were invoking within him-those were the things he wanted to focus on. Those were the things so clearly on his mind.

She was a hard nut to crack since she still refused to acknowledge or believe that no matter what she said, her body always told a different story. He’d known the moment she had wanted him, the moment her panties has begun getting wet. He didn’t have to touch them to know it had happened. Her body had emitted a sensuous scent, an aroused scent, one he had come to know and recognize. It was a scent that pushed him to want to take things to another level, such as taste her in the most intimate way. Get inside her body and this time stay there, without any damn interruptions, whether he was wearing a condom or not.

He heard the warning bells going off in his head. They were flashing like crazy, making all kinds of loud noise. But he would deal with all that later. Right now. the only thing he wanted to deal with was this. The tastiest woman he’d ever had the pleasure of devouring.

The soft knock on the door broke them apart. He pulled back reluctantly and breathed in deeply. Then a frown covered his face. Whoever was at that door had better have a good reason for interrupting them.