What do Sean Casey, Trace Adkins and I have in common with this 1Night Stand story which is on sale now?!
Well, it all goes to the process of how I write. I 'see' a character and I start writing about 'them.' I usually have NO idea what the women look like, but the men, well, no problem there. Now, granted my idea of a good lookin' dude might be completely different from someone else's. My mother once said about my being 'hooked' on some movie star, 'You have all your taste in your mouth.' Oh, well, to each his own and beauty IS in the eye of the beholder. (I'm sure some folks are just thankful that none of the characters in this story look like Russell Crowe - don't worry saving him for future endeavors!)
But, back to Sean Casey. I just think he's cute as a button in a older athletic-guy way. Helps that he's a strappin' 6'4" and, at one time, played a mean first base. I needed an unassuming, all-American type for my hero and he just fit the bill. (I will ignore his one flaw- he hasn't returned my Tweets!)
Trace Adkins, on the other hand - well, you can blame that on Deanna Wadsworth - she got me into this whole 1 Night Stand thing, to the tune of THREE stories! Yes, there will be more (granted the Gods of Submissions look kindly on us) because to find out what happens to her massive bear-of-a-character, pseudo-Trace-Adkins look-a-like from Bear It All you'll just have to read The One He Chose!
Then to find out what happens to my Sean Casey-esque character, well, who knows what Deanna will call her next 1NS story!
It's been a hoot working on this story. To be honest, I feel closer to them than I do/did with my characters in Respite. Don't know why that is, but maybe it's a 'writer thing.'
Anyway, The One He Chose has made people cry. I quote Valerie Mann (submissions editor), 'I read this and couldn't find one stinkin' Kleenex in the whole house and had to resort to toilet paper. You are scum for making me cry.' Best acceptance email ever!
The trailer has been well received as well. 'It gave me goosebumps,' one comment read.
I'm thrilled to find out what you think of it! There's an excerpt below.
“Grace.” The deep voice worked its way into her consciousness.
She sighed in her haziness and clutched the imaginary hand resting on her tummy. Whoever or whatever held her carried a familiar scent, one that elicited trust and caring.
Out on the porch, the mountain air had chilled. Despite the comfort of the presence around her, her body responded with a shiver.
A hand slipped into the lace triangle of her thong, caressing the area between navel and Nirvana.
Definitely not a dream.
She blinked, slowly coming to life. The frightened tone of her inquiry shocked even her “Who are you?”
“Relax.” His lips lovingly met her shoulder. “Ben sent me.”
He didn’t seem to have any malicious intent—well, at least not at the moment. And Madame Eve wouldn’t allow something hurtful to happen.
“What do you…?” The hand cupped her waxed-for-the-occasion pubic area. His callused digits followed a natural path. It’d been so long since someone had touched her in this manner, nearly two years. She didn’t blame Ben for the extended dry spell, only the disease which had dampened his interest and stamina.
“I want you to relax and let me make love to you. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
So, this is how this Madame Eve stuff works.
With little thought, she relented to her physical loneliness. She closed her eyes and shoved the lace below her hips. The stranger assisted until her legs were completely bare. “Yes, please.”
He was strong, agile, and wonderfully gentle.
A warm, sincere, somewhat familiar voice tickled her ear. “Grace.”
She leaned into him, wanting to sigh in happy relief and cry in terrible sadness. His arms about her, she slowly turned into his embrace. She closed her eyes, waiting for the initial kiss.
Then, it came, gentle yet deep and although he was a stranger, she felt a profound connection, a silent conversation. She raised her hand to touch his cheek in encouragement. Blinking in the darkness, desperately wanting to see her soon-to-be lover, her eyes finally focused and the world came to an abrupt halt.
Wendy is a displaced Cheesehead, proud to have been born and bred in Wisconsin. She was a migrant worker for years in the radio business, until she landed in Ohio and refused to leave. When she isn’t writing for pleasure and publication, she is a TV newsroom assignment manager – a great job for her as she gets to tell people where to go and what to do! She shares her clean, yet perpetually dusty, house with her chef husband and two spoiled rotten cats. (One of who takes great delight in harfing up a hairball on Wendy’s pillow at 3AM.) Decadent Publishing has been a godsend for her as she can finally stop talking to the people in her head and allow them to speak for themselves!
Find her on Facebook (Wendy Burke Author), Twitter @WendyBurke1994 or send her a nasty email: firstname.lastname@example.org