Welcome to my stop on the Caliente Blog Hop! I’d like to tell you it’s sweltering here, but that’s only true of my current work-in-progress, a steamy - really steamy - M/F/M book due to release later this year. Everything else? Brrrr.

Winter lingered so long here in the Mid-Atlantic (and everywhere else!) that I was starting to worry we’d skip Spring and head straight into the hot, hot months of Summer. Most years by the beginning of May, I’m fully immersed in iced coffee culture. Not so, this year. I’m still drinking my coffee hot-hot-hot.

I’m a coffee person. Yes, one of those people who buy whole beans to grind at home and who uses their spending money on fancy drinks in the afternoon. I’m a particular fan of the Starbucks caramel macchiato with its swirls of golden caramel on top and its puddle of creamy milk on the bottom (excellent hot or iced). When I’m getting coffee with my sister-in-law, who is an owner of a coffee shop in downtown Baltimore, she scowls at me and says, “That’s not a macchiato”.

And I ignore her. But I won’t ignore her anymore.

Today I stopped by a non-Starbucks coffee shop, saw “honey macchiato” as the special of the day (what about that doesn’t sound delicious, I ask you?!) and promptly placed my order. When the barista handed me a tiny little Dixie cup full of steaming espresso, I did a double-take and a silent WTF…and then I took it home to pour over ice and milk.

While sipping my iced honey latte macchiato, which is what the Starbucks caramel macchiato really is (thanks Google), I went searching for some coffee definitions.

In a nutshell: Macchiato (or café macchiato):

Espresso “marked” with milk.

Latte macchiato: Milk “marked” with espresso.

If only coffee shops and the fashion industry would get on board and standardize things… Lesson learned today: Never ever deviate from the Regular Coffee Shop. The time spent Googling and blogging about coffee disappointments could be better spent reading something like my steamy summer-set erotic romance HOT FOR PEPPER.

     Summer in Virginia burns as hot as Mitchell’s desire for sheltered Southern princess Pepper. Between official assignments, Capt. Scott has a private mission—claim the genteel redhead before another man discovers the spicy passion lying dormant beneath Pepper’s skittish exterior. Trust-fund baby Pepper is surrounded by men—her adoptive father, her stepbrothers, her casual romantic companion. All men who want her to fit the roles they envision. Only Mitch has ever asked her what she wants. She’s going to tell him…as soon as she can think past the scorching press of his body against hers and the overwhelming compulsion of her hunger for a man society says she shouldn’t crave.   Excerpt copyright 2011 Emily Ryan-Davis

Mitch leaned casually against the wall beside a closet door. The staircase swept up behind him. Remembering his words and the bare curve of her bottom under her skirt, Pepper drew a deep breath and walked toward him. Something about his nonchalant pose, the close fit of his black t-shirt, really did it for her. Damp heat blossomed between her thighs by the time she reached him.

“You have some free time?” Instead of reaching for her, he tapped the closet’s knob.

Pepper moistened her lips, tasted the remnants of the gloss she’d slicked on that morning. “I’m mostly in the way right now. Everybody knows what to do.”

He straightened away from the wall. “Will you spend some of it with me?”

Pulse quickening, she nodded. Mitch opened the closet door and stood aside, leaving her to enter first. As she stepped past him, the soap-scent of his skin gave way to the aroma of faded pine and dust. She spotted the glitter of last year's garland before Mitch came in behind her and closed the door. With the door sealed, the closet was blindingly dark.

His arms slid around her waist and he tugged her backward. “I need to know something.”

The serious edge to his voice creased her brow. Pepper placed her hands over his and traced the ridge of his knuckles. She forced herself to nod. “Tell me?”

“You tell me.” His heart thudded steadily between her shoulder blades. “Tell me the truth. Are you afraid of me?”

Oh. She didn’t want to answer that question. Pepper tucked her chin to her chest. “I don’t want to be.”

“But you are.”

She swallowed. Grown women didn’t avoid things like this. “The way you look at me makes me nervous. Your eyes sometimes make me feel like you hate me. Other times, they make me feel like you want to do things.”

“Hate is not an emotion I feel for you.” He loosened his hold and spread his fingers over her breast. “Things…yeah, I want to do things to you.”

She pressed her thighs together, nursing a heavy beat of want. “For how long?”

“How long have I wanted to or how long do I want to?”

“Both,” she whispered.

“For a long time.” He thumbed the top button of her blouse and kissed the upper curve of her ear. “Are you afraid of me right now?”

“No,” she said clearly. “Not for any reason.”

“Good. I’d never do anything to hurt you.” The hand at her stomach slid lower, guided her buttocks into the cup of his groin. He was already hard for her.

“I know,” she whispered, aware the only pain she’d suffered at his hands resulted from her own silence. His chest expanded behind her and relaxed on a sigh.

“You’re not wearing panties.”

“You told me not to.”

“Yeah, well. That was before I knew how much you deserve the candles-and-massage experience. Rose petals. Some damned restraint on my part.” His fingertips traced the line where her panties should have been. “Right now I’m having a hell of a time convincing myself to let you go.”

“So don’t. Touch me instead.” Pretty as his ideas were, she preferred the reality of him big and hard behind her. Blind in the dark, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist and guided his hand down the front of her skirt. “Will you put your fingers inside me again?”

Mitch groaned into her hair. “Your mouth should be illegal.”

She released him and tugged at her skirt, inching the hem to her hips. “Please. Will you?”

“Maybe. Depends.” He covered her mound and squeezed, delivering a jolt of unexpected pleasure. “If I put my fingers inside you, will you let me watch while you finger yourself later?”

“You want to watch me?” She blinked in the dark.

“Fuck yes. Watch you and stroke myself and come all over your sticky fingers when you’re done.”

Too heavy for her neck, her head lolled back against his shoulder. Mitch closed his teeth around a tendon in her throat and she shuddered in his arms. The same blunt language that shocked her less than twenty-four hours earlier thrilled her now.

“Okay,” she breathed raggedly. “Yes. I’ll let you watch. Just please touch me now.”

~*~

More? Yeah, I know you want more. HOT FOR PEPPER is available at Amazon, BN, Ellora’s Cave, AllRomanceEbooks, and more if you need it now. (I know you need it now…)

Or if you’re able to exercise a little patience, leave a comment telling me how you take your coffee and one random commenter will win a digital copy of Mitch & Pepper’s book.

Once you’ve thrown your name in for the HOT FOR PEPPER drawing, please take a moment to subscribe to my newsletter so you’ll know as soon as my next book is available. And before you head off to the next stop on the Caliente Blog Hop, remember to enter the grand prize drawing!




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