Happy Monday, folks! Today I have LeTeisha Newton on to talk about her new book One Hour Girl, coming on February 29, 2016. Take it away, LeTeisha!
What drove you to create One Hour Girl?
Because it was time. I think that One Hour Girl, for me, is a piece I created to speak to so many women out there that are victims of domestic or child abuse and how they survived it. It doesn’t have to be a public badge anyone wears, but it can fiddle with everyday life, the way you look at yourself, and how you deal with others. Celeste was a woman who used negative coping mechanisms to get through her past and it took an equally messed up man to help her. But he wasn’t all about making himself her source of happiness. He wanted her to love herself and see herself the same way he did, and that helped her heal. Isn’t that how life is? How love should be?
What is the Lost Series?
The point of the Lost Series was to create a series of stand-alone books that could be read completely separate, with no overlap, and no cliffhangers. They are tied by a common theme of lost souls, real people, finding love they way they have to. One Hour Girl is a gritty contemporary romance, and the flagship book. Scarred, Book 2, is more a dark romance with BDSM elements. Phenomenal, Book 2.5 is a MMA Fighter romance about an underdog fighter who has lost everything struggling to get to the top again, and the woman who is willing to help him get there. Each of the books, and the ensuing ones to come, wil satisfy different readers, and that’s what I was going for.
Totally get that. So how did you pick your hero and heroine?
I’m one of those authors that know my characters faces long before I write their stories. They are real to me. I know them, and I live them. Royce was drool worthy and I needed to give him an equally beautiful heroine. Because of the world they live in,their looks mattered quite a bit. Celeste moonlights as a high-dollar escort. Royce is L.A.’s most eligible bachelor. That contrasts with darker, rougher Ethan and River of Scarred, Book 2. They are equally scarred physically and mentally. Their look is much different. My characters look like their worlds.
So you already have the other books in the works?!
Oh yeah! Don’t want to leave my readers in a lurch LOL! One Hour Girl is out in February 2016, Scarred in May of 2016, and Phenomenal will be in a NOLA Boxed set with 8 other AMAZING authors, so we will keep that a bit under wraps, in August 2016!
He thinks I’m his forever girl, I saw it in his eyes. I wished I could have slapped the look off his face and hit him with the same jarring finality I’d learned I didn’t mean shit.
I’m not a forever sort of girl.
I’m not even his for the night.
He’ll be lucky if I’m his for the next hour if he doesn’t pay me for it.
And then Royce Mattherson stormed my defenses. Took all the poison inside of me and pushed it out through my pores. He tasted the taint on my skin and still decided to love me. He terrifies me. Exhilarates me. Frustrates me.
And he always gets what he wants.
I watched Celeste’s eyes widen and she tried to shift from under me, coming out of the daze as she looked over at the hustling waiter. I gripped her hips, pinning her beneath me.
“You aren’t going anywhere,” I assured her. “You seemed to have ruined my dinner, and I’m famished.”
I licked my lips, feeling desire and pride swell within me as her gaze tracked my movement and a warm flush appeared under her skin. I pressed my hips between her legs, hissing at the heat of her pussy against my cloth covered cock.
“I think I’ve found something to eat…right…here,” I told her, letting go of her hip to push my hand between us and cup her sex.
She moaned, head tossed back. I waited long enough for the waiter to run behind the counter and away before I claimed her mouth again. This was my place, my money, my rules. No one would disturb us, and I wanted to see how wild she could get. I wanted to control her.
I rubbed my fingers against her in a circular motion as I devoured her mouth. She gripped at my jacket, pushing it off my shoulders. It couldn’t fall to the floor because I wouldn’t stop caressing her, but it was out of her way enough that she went for my shirt next. Buttons popped as she ripped my shirt open and ran her nails down my chest.
My cock was hard and pulsing in my pants. I moved my hand from between us and ground against her. She cried out, rolling her hips against me. I liked that. I fucking loved how she gave into her passion. She didn’t fight it, she didn’t apologize for it. The way she responded to me made me feel like a god.
I sucked my way down the side of her neck, paying attention to any hitch of breath, and shift of her body. I noticed that her nails dug when I nipped over her pulse. She sucked in a breath when I traced her cleavage with my tongue. Her breath rushed out in a whoosh when I pulled the neck of her dress down far enough to suck her nipple into my mouth, bra and all.
I noted it all, and logged it to memory. She was mine. So what if it didn’t make sense? So what if I was fighting an uphill battle against a woman who didn’t believe in giving herself. We weren’t talking about love. We were talking about enjoying a spark with another person that we’d never feel again.
I could give her everything she needed, but the emotions. She just needed to learn that people like us? That’s all we needed. I let her nipple go long enough to pull her into my arms and force the dress up and over her head. I tossed the dress over my shoulder as I used my other hand to pop her bra. By the time she lay back on the table she only had her delicate black thong and heels on.
Her breasts were slightly rosy with desire. It was such a pretty color against her bronze flesh. I captured her slightly darker nipple in my mouth, grinding my hips against her. Her fingers tunneled through my hair as she held me to her. Rolling her nipple with my tongue just to hear her cry out again, I traced the inside of her thighs.
“So pretty. How good will you taste?” I asked her. I kissed my way down over her stomach, stopping long enough to dip my tongue in her navel. Her body shook under my hands. Or maybe it was my hands. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. The most important thing for me was to drink her down. To hear her scream my name.
I nuzzled her groin. It was bare, and the skin there was smooth. I nipped the sensitive flesh and then licked away the sting. Her skin was like spun honey, sticky and moist, and so fucking amazing. The crease on the inside of her thigh where it met her groin demanded attention and I followed the line down with my tongue.
I took a moment to sit back and grab my chair. I sat back down and looked at her pussy. My breath came out hard and raspy as I admired the tight lips and nub peeking out from its hood. Moisture leaked out of her, making her shine. All for me. I’d done that. Gripping the backs of her thighs, I pushed her legs up and out.
“Royce—” she started by I popped her ass to shut her up.
“You chose this, and it’s what I want. Has anyone, ever, just pleased you? Have you ever had someone who couldn’t think of their own pleasure because it was intrinsically combined with yours?”
She stared at me, so I popped her ass again.
“No,” she said finally. “Never.”
“You won’t be able to say that after tonight,” I promised her.
About LeTeisha Newton
Writing professionally since 2008, LeTeisha has spanned from Fantasy to Interracial Romance on her road to getting the jumping characters out of her head. Most days she’s pretty color blind, unless it’s a great shade of red (then she can’t ignore it). Other times she’s plotting her next twenty books and then remembering that the computer can’t read her thoughts and doesn’t type at lightning speed. Either way, she just can’t seem to get enough of quill to paper…or eh…keyboard strokes, apparently.
Today’s Sunday Shoutout goes to Erzabet Bishop and her smouldering new book Lipstick (Black Dress Chronicles 1), is now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine erotic romance. Take it away, Erzabet!
When living-challenged author Claire Presswood gets invited to go on a night out on the town with her two best friends, she isn’t prepared for the evening that awaits her. Hungry and overworked, she arrives at a masked party at an art museum in time to meet debonair artist Maxwell Douglas. One look from his luminous eyes and Claire knows this will be a night to remember.
“What would you like to see first?” Maxwell’s eyes resumed their fiery trail down my body.
“How about that spanking bench?” I smiled, letting him lead the way.
He led me to it and I leaned forward onto the padded seat, deliberately giving him a stellar view of my backside. Rachel was right about the dress. It was perfect.
“Is this right?” I feigned ignorance, waggling my ass in the air.
He moved behind me and as I arched my back in a provocative pose. He sucked in his breath. “Yes. I’d say that’s just about perfect.” He pressed his erection against my ass, grinding it against me.
I moaned deep in my throat, sure that this had to be some kind of dream. Moisture pooled in my slit and hunger clawing at my insides. A low keening growl escaped my lips and I froze.
He reached around and kissed me, his breath falling short as he took in the slight glow of my eyes.
“Exactly.” He opened my mouth, sliding his tongue against mine, urging me to respond.
I accepted the challenge, savoring his mouth. His scent was earthy and his essence made me want to devour him.
He broke the kiss and leaned back, his gaze meeting mine.
“God, my palm itches to spank you,” he breathed, reaching for an errant curl that had fallen across my face. “You are intoxicating.”
I took his hand and placed it on my breast, eager and more than ready. I turned in his arms and pushed my ass alongside the erection straining against his trousers. I imagined it inside me, pressing in even closer.
“I want you,” I breathed.
“Well then, there is just one little thing we need to remedy.” Maxwell’s voice was low as he ran his hand in a light trail down my spine.
“Really? What’s that?” I shivered as his hand traced lines down my body.
“The dress. It has to go.”
“Ummm.” I lifted my arm and his hand found the zipper. As he slowly moved it down, the dress loosened and he pulled it over my head. Clad in the thong, lacy-topped black thigh-highs, and shiny black stilettos, the chill of the room had fine goosebumps erupting all over my skin. My nipples pebbled with the delicious blend of cold and desire and maybe just a little fear. This man could do anything to me and who was to say the woman in his pictures upstairs was even alive?
The danger sped up my heart and made my juices flow.
Where To Buy
About Erzabet Bishop
Erzabet Bishop is an award winning author and she loves to write on the naughty side. She is a contributing author to a wide variety of anthologies including Tease to Please, Demons Imps and Incubi, Opposites, and Sci Spanks 2015. Erzabet has been a finalist in the GCLS awards for 2014 and 2015. She lives in Texas with her husband, furry children and can often be found lurking in local bookstores. She loves to bake, make naughty crochet projects and watch monster movies. When she isn’t writing, she loves to review music and books.