#MFRWsteam ~ Ball’s in Her Court Now (@KA_Raines)

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Welcome to MFRW’s monthly Steam Hop, a blog hop for steamy romance writers! Click the banner to the left or on the side bar to view the other blogs in the hop!

For my entry, I chose an excerpt from my debut novel, The Infiltrator. To set the scene, Derrick and Keira barely escaped a pack of blood-thirsty Ghosts with their lives. Wet, cold, hungry, and emotionally exhausted, it’s the perfect set-up…

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Keira sat up then—there was just room in the confines of the tent—and looked down as she watched him take a long, deep drag. As usual, she couldn’t read the look in his eyes because they were shielded by a fringe of dark hair, and there was something acutely masculine about the rugged set of his unshaven jaw. He had one arm casually bent behind his head, his bicep straining against the ripped cotton of his stained tee. “I’m going out on a limb here, Derrick,” she finally said. “I don’t have to go anywhere with you, but I am. I just wanna know what I’m walkin’ into.”

His eyes latched onto hers heatedly as he exhaled slowly through his nose, and the almost animalistic way he was looking at her had her clenching her thighs together, instinctively seeking friction as the familiar warmth pooled low in her belly.

“Yeah?” he said at last, his voice that now-familiar throaty growl that made her insides quiver. “Then what’re you still doin’ here? No one’s forcin’ ya. Can’t say I’d blame you for walkin’ away, since you don’t know me—not really, and you sure as shit wouldn’t be the first.” His free hand snaked out then, lightly landing on her hip, somehow timid yet bold all at once. His fingertips scorched her as his thumb just grazed the flesh beneath the hem of her shirt. She watched as his hooded gaze flickered downward, landing on her nipples that strained against the flimsy fabric, before trailing further down to the simple cotton panties she’d taken from a Dollar General north of Texarkana last week.

She forced her breathing into a steady rhythm, feeling, strangely, both annoyed and aroused—annoyed that he had the ability to arouse her with a simple look. No man should have the sort of power over her. “And no one forced you to come after me. I can take care of myself.”

His hand squeezed her hip ever-so-slightly, his gaze slowly dragging back up to meet her eyes once more as his exploring thumb slipped just beneath the waistband of her panties. “Yeah. No shit.” His eyes were dark with lust, and he didn’t seem embarrassed by the massive erection that his boxer-briefs did nothing to hide.

They continued to make eye contact in an unspoken challenge, the tension heavy in the air between them, and Keira knew that he was waiting to see what she would do next. The ball was in her court. If she wanted him, all she had to do was take him.

She was aware that she looked a mess, and she was sure she must smell even worse. Yet she felt emboldened when she shifted and leaned over him in the next instant, not allowing herself to put too much thought into what she was doing as she draped one thigh over his hips, rubbing her center lightly against him. She continued to hold his gaze as she took the mostly-forgotten cigarette from between his lips and brought it to her own, inhaling deeply. She hadn’t smoked since her college years, when she started dating Kevin and he’d deemed it unattractive, and so she savored the nicotine. Her eyes never left Derrick’s as she slowly exhaled the smoke and pressed the cigarette between his fingers.

She felt irrefutably empowered by his ragged breathing, and by the heat of his impressive length that strained insistently against her inner thigh when she dragged her leg back over his and settled at his side once more. She smiled thinly, knowing that she had regained her power. If she wanted to, she could fuck him stupid and slip off quietly next time he slept. She had been on her own for a while now, and she preferred it that way. She didn’t need other people, and she certainly didn’t need him.

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A virus has rendered humanity mostly extinct. Keira Starr is alone, staying alive by staying on the run, sleeping in empty gas stations and the trunks of cars long abandoned on the highway. The world is overrun by “Ghosts,” the mindless, bloodthirsty dead, but they are the least of her problems. She is being hunted by ragtag groups of ruthless men, independent contractors working for a mysterious human trafficking ring. When she is finally captured, she discovers that Derrick Caine, despite his gruff demeanor and appearance, may just have a different agenda altogether.

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#MFRWauthor ~ I Like Big Flaws (and I Cannot Lie)

MFRW blog prompt: “As a reader, what attracts you most to a character?”

From literature to film, I am most intrigued by male characters who are psychologically damaged – yet not beyond redemption. I like the outcast or scoundrel who might be concealing a softer side (Han Solo, anyone?). I like complicated antiheroes capable of redemption (How about Anne Rice’s Lestat?). These men come in many different packages. They might be handsome and charming in the conventional way. Or they may hide behind snark to conceal their insecurities (Severus Snape?). No matter the genre or medium – novel, film, or TV – I want to see men who are imperfect and flawed, their facades concealing more than meets the eye.

As for women, make them strong, assertive, and confident. I want to see (or read about) The Walking Dead‘s Michonne kicking ass and getting the hero – even if the ass-kicking itself is metaphorical rather than literal – or Katniss Everdeen with with her bow. This desire is why I wrote so many strong female characters into my debut novel, The Infiltrator – probably the only female-dominated zombie novel ever written – while I portrayed male characters as more prone to emoting than the women. I wanted it to bend gender stereotypes (as well as bend genres). Also, I simply enjoy writing about broken, fucked-up men.

My character preferences for damaged men and strong women can be seen in my current WIP as well, which is also a dystopian romance featuring two empaths whose mental battles are sexually charged. For this novel I chose to use several tropes including fated mates and enemies to lovers – and even a couple I might have made up (is fuck or die a thing?).

Excerpt from my as-yet-untitled WIP:

She closed her eyes. Centered the surging energy. Felt the pressure behind her eyes once more, imagined it flowing outward. She could almost see it. See where she needed to center it. She focused on his mind. Felt his resistance, as solid as a steel wall. All she needed was a crack, a small way in, then all she had to do was squeeze

She screamed at the effort, and for an instant—just an instant—she felt his barrier bow beneath her assault. With a heave, she pushed once more, felt the fissure form. And then she was in. Just as she concentrated the energy and began to squeeze, she was bombarded by images: A small boy with dark hair crouched in a corner. And a woman crying—

Jahnna was yanked up suddenly by her wrists. Her eyes snapped open as she was shoved violently out of his mind once more, the connection severed. He was angry, but he was also…she didn’t know what he was. She knew he could hurt her if he wanted to, but he was just staring at her, breathing heavily through his nose. Oddly, she thought he might kiss her. If he did, she would bite him—hard enough to make him bleed.

Thanks for stopping by! I’d love to hear from you! What are your thoughts? What kind of characters do you like to read about?

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#MFRWHooks – Derrick Gets Keira Wet (Excerpt)

When Derrick began to undress, Keira forgot to breathe. “What are you doin’?” she asked, laughing to cover up her sudden nervousness when his shirt fell next to his boots, and he reached for his belt buckle. She tried not to stare, truly, she did, but her hungry eyes drank in every scar that was revealed, every scattered tattoo, the coarse but sparse hairs on his chest that led a distinct trail down washboard abs.

Ordinarily, he was so painfully reserved that she was aghast that he was actually stripping in front of her. But, then, she’d witnessed his contradictory bold streak more than once.

“Goin’ for a swim,” he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and she was a supreme dumbass. “What? You said it feels amazin’.” He pushed his jeans down his narrow hips and stepped out of them, leaving him clad only in boxer shorts. His legs were lean and strong like the rest of him, and she couldn’t help but admire them.

“Yeah, but—Derrick!” She laughed when he ran at the dock’s edge, tucking his legs into the classic cannonball position as he jumped and disappeared beneath the surface with a mighty splash. She was still laughing as she wiped the water from her eyes. Sure, it felt nice on her feet, but she couldn’t imagine actually swimming in it.

Her eyes skimmed the surface of the water as she waited for him to resurface, but, as the seconds ticked by and he had yet to make an appearance, she began to get nervous. She stood, dropping her pack and bow at her feet, preparing to go in after him as panic began to set in, when a sudden pounding noise below her caught her attention. Looking at her feet, she saw him gazing up at her through the slats. “You comin’ in, or what?” he asked as he swam to the side of the dock, his hands catching the edges to anchor himself in place.

She shook her head. “Asshole. You scared me.” Even as she said the words, however, she was struck by how carefree he seemed in that moment.

“Never said I weren’t. Don’t mean you can’t come in, though.”

She chewed the inside of her lip. Fuck it. Before she could talk herself out of it, she quickly stripped off her jacket before pulling her shirt over her head and shimmying out of her jeans. She didn’t look at him as she undressed, but she could feel the heat of his gaze as he soaked her up. She supposed she couldn’t begrudge him that, since she hadn’t bothered looking away as he undressed; she felt thankful, at least, that she’d worn a bra today. “This is all a ploy to get me naked, isn’t it?”

“Woman, if I wanted ta git you naked… I wouldn’t need a ploy.”

She shook her head and bit her lip, ignoring the heat that bloomed in her cheeks and between her legs in tandem. Once naked save for her plain white panty-and-bra set, Keira ran at the edge of the dock much as Derrick had, but, instead of doing a cannonball like he had, she dived in, her hands sluicing through the water as a shocking blast of iciness encased her. Remembering his words about Ghosts possibly being trapped on the floor of the lake, she kept close to the surface, flipping and kicking toward the murky sunlight before her head broke through.

She was still gasping from the shock of it and shivering mightily as she treaded water, eyes flashing toward the dock. Swiping the water from her eyes, she didn’t immediately see him, but she was no longer worried. On the contrary, she felt the stirrings of excitement, the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she swam for the dock, pulling one arm in front of the other. In high school, she had been on the school’s swim team. Not exactly Olympics material, but she’d always considered herself a strong swimmer, and it had been so long that the chilly water felt invigorating as she propelled herself fluidly forward.

She gasped in shock when a hand suddenly clamped around her ankle, dragging her beneath the surface once more, but she knew it wasn’t a Ghost: The grip was too strong, deliberate, the palm too fleshy. Nevertheless, she screamed, trying not to swallow a mouthful of water as she was yanked backwards and crashed into a warm body. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she clung to him instinctively, trying to stifle her automatic surge of panic when her head broke the surface for the second time.

Derrick was laughing as she coughed and sputtered. “You asshole,” she gasped, one hand pounding weakly against his chest.

“Seems t’be the theme o’the day,” he murmured once he finally stopped chuckling. “Calm down, woman—I gotcha.”

“I wouldn’t need calming if you hadn’t tried to drown me,” she grumbled, spitting her hair out of her face as she gazed up at him. Only at that moment did she realize how close he was, that she was literally wrapped around him. Her legs were straddling his narrow hips, her breasts smashed against his chest, and she flushed to realize that he was staring at her mouth.

“Wasn’t tryna drown ya—just gitcha a lil’ wet.” A sudden surge of warmth bloomed low in her belly at his words, and at the same moment he flushed, as if realizing what he’d said—but neither moved to disengage. On the contrary, they froze in unison while Keira forgot to breathe; they might have sunk to the bottom of the lake if Derrick hadn’t had have the presence of mind to keep treading water for them both.

She stared up at him, noting the clear hesitation on his face and feeling certain that it must mirror her own. Deciding to take the leap—and not allowing herself to think about it—she tilted her head up in clear invitation, stopping just shy of his mouth. She nearly cried in relief when he tilted downward just enough bridge the gap, his lips just brushing hers, so lightly she might have imagined it had her nerve endings not been on fire.

She held still with considerable effort, letting him take the lead as she sensed that any sudden movement on her part might halt him in his tracks. So slowly she barely registered the movement, he applied gentle pressure, his lips sliding over hers experimentally as Keira hummed her encouragement. His hand slid up her back, threading into her hair while his other braced against the side of her cheek, as if holding her in place, while he continued his gentle explorations.

When he hesitantly licked the seam of her lips, barely a prod of his tongue, she parted them, allowing him inside. As his tongue brushed against hers, he groaned into her mouth, and she tightened her grip on him with her legs in response, her own hands trailing down his bare chest, delighting in the feel of his warm flesh, in stark contrast to the icy lake water.

The kiss might have gained momentum from there; the passion had threatened to erupt between them for days, yet this felt different, even as the kiss itself lost its chasteness and became ever bolder. Still, this was decidedly sweeter than anything that had passed between them before, and she could tell that Derrick was deliberately holding back, not allowing this to develop into anything frenzied even as she sucked his tongue between her lips, the gesture absurdly erotic. His facial hair scratched the delicate skin of her cheek, the contrast somehow only serving to heighten the sensuality of the moment.

He broke the kiss with a grunt, his forehead landing against hers. “Keira,” he breathed, his voice ragged as he caught his breath. His erection was hot and heavy against her belly through the thin cotton of his shorts, but she followed his lead, sliding her fingertips up his smooth, broad shoulders once more, down his biceps, and trailing over his forearms until their fingers were intertwined.

“Yeah?” She opened her eyes to peer up at him through her lashes. She wanted him—she’d given up trying to fight it—but she would go at his pace.

“Nothin’.” He pecked her lips—once, twice, three times.

“No—what?” she said with a laugh, their fingers still intertwined at their sides, pulling back slightly to get a better look at his face. Her legs were still loosely wrapped around his waist, and she made no move to disengage.

“It’s just…” He ducked his head, and she realized that he was blushing furiously. “That was nice.” If possible, his face turned an even brighter hue. “I know. I’m fuckin’ lame. Never shoulda opened my damn mouth.”

She smiled up at him broadly, heart swelling to the brim with a sudden, intense affection for the man. She pulled one of his hands up between their bodies and pressed her lips to their clasped knuckles. “It was, wasn’t it? And you’re not lame, Caine. Not even close.”

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A virus has rendered humanity mostly extinct. Keira Starr is alone, staying alive by staying on the run, sleeping in empty gas stations and the trunks of cars long abandoned on the highway. The world is overrun by “Ghosts,” the mindless, bloodthirsty dead, but they are the least of her problems. She is being hunted by ragtag groups of ruthless men, independent contractors working for a mysterious human trafficking ring. When she is finally captured, she discovers that Derrick Caine, despite his gruff demeanor and appearance, may just have a different agenda altogether.

M/F, erotic romance, dystopian, post-apocalyptic, sci-fi/fantasy

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