Innocent But Sexy
Can a book be sexy in an innocent way? In Protective Instincts my heroine was attacked by a man who tried to rape her. That doesn't bode well for a man who is attracted to her. How long must he wait before he does sexual things with her? He has to wonder how long it will take for her to want a man's touch.
She will wonder how long before she wants a man to touch her, loom over her, have sex with her. For some rape victims sex never becomes bearable. For some others it takes months, even years. Critique folks assured me my heroine would have the same reactions as a rape victim.
I write sexy, or so my critique partners and my editor say. I let my characters tell me how much they would allow. They started slowly. The attacker is still on the loose, so she can't feel safe or heal, even with therapy.
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Blurb for Protective Instincts...They met because he had premonitions and she was in peril. But you will never believe why they fell in love. Paranormal romance at its best.
After mourning the loss of her husband, Brit Roberts manages to pick up her life as a teacher for a rural Georgia High school. Things are fine until anonymous phone calls turn creepy and her life is endangered. It's not until Sam Samuels, shows up to check on her that she finds a little peace.
Sam Samuels isn't just the father of one of Ms. Robert's students, he's a man with premonitions so strong, they make him ill. So when he meets his son's teacher and pain kicks in, he knows something's awry but can't put his finger on it until he interrupts an attempt to rape and kill the teacher. Sam makes it his personal goal to protect her, only he didn't count on falling for her.
“Relax, Teach. Let me help you get rid of your tension. Old Sam's hands will work their magic,” Sam murmured in her ear, his hot breath causing her to shiver.
“Now, Sam, there’s no need. I'm fine, really,” Brit said as she shivered like a leaf trembling in a gentle breeze. Heat and cold attacked her body as his hands moved to her neck, using his thumbs to fill the hollow at the base of her skull.
Sam’s magic hands moved back to her shoulders before traveling down her arms and up again. The relaxed state she had reached kept her body immobile and vulnerable. His warm, strong hands moved from shoulders to collar bone. The calluses abraded sensuously.
Brit wanted to tell him to stop. The kids were only doors away and could come in. I'll make him stop in just a minute.
Her knees turned to water. Leaning her head against the wall of his chest she inhaled Sam’s familiar scent. He whispered endearments she could barely hear or understand for the breathiness of his voice.
Sam knew he should stop before he went too far, but her hot, soft skin felt too good beneath his fingers. The pressure he felt building in his crotch had begun to control his brain. He’d heard about men thinking with their dicks, but had not thought to be one. He put his arms around her and just held her close. A shred of sanity kept him from turning her in his arms where she would feel all of his arousal. She was responding to his gentle touch but she had almost been raped and he couldn’t rush her.
Sam buried his face in her hair. The faint scent of wild flowers enticed him. He moved to her shoulder and nipped through the fabric of her shirt. God, he wanted her! "I have to go," he whispered harshly. His throat ached. Something else ached more. "If I don't leave soon I might disgrace myself." He laughed ruefully. "I'll be back later, I promise."
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Mary Marvella has been a storyteller for as long as she can remember. She made up stories for the other children and created the details for their “play like” or “let’s pretend” games. Sometimes the details were so real they scared Mary.
Mary was born in Augusta, Georgia to two eighteen-year olds. She taught language arts for 15 years, perfect for her BA in English. Her M.Ed in Counseling served her well during her years as a school counselor and as a teacher later.
Now she tutors, teaches writers, and edits. Her inner English teacher loves the editing part. Mary helped her husband photograph hundreds of weddings. Her daughter doesn’t read Mary’s books. Something about TMI.
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