12 Days of Christmas with Vonnie Davis!!

For those of you who haven't been lucky enough to yet meet Vonnie, she is one of those people who never fails to make me smile. I am lucky beyond measure to count her among my peers, and am delighted to bring you her version of the 12 days of Christmas. OH! And for one lucky commentor, Vonnie will graciously award a copy of her latest, Storm's Interlude, so be sure to leave me your name and email below!  

AJ, my friend, thank you for having me as a guest today. I have to tell you, every time I stop by to see what one of your many guests has to say, I read the paragraph at the top of your blog. It’s very empowering—and I’m all for empowering women.

Because we have twelve days remaining until the big day when the packages we’ve carefully wrapped and hidden are torn into, I thought I would share with your readers my version of the “Twelve Days of Christmas.” Yes, AJ, I’m aware that traditionally the song begins on Christmas Day and continues. But those of you who know me know I do things my own way. It’s a bad habit I just can’t seem to break. So my version, boring though it may be, begins the twelve days before and not after.

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me

Twelve eggs a whisking,

Eleven balls a-bouncing,

 Ten oranges growing,

Nine…Nine…Mine…sorry, but I’m drooling,

Eight ounces wine for cooling,

Seven cookies stacking,

 Six tiny chest hairs,

 Five fans to cool me,

 Four candy canes,

Three naughty wishes,

Two kitties snuggling,

 And a partridge in a pear tree!

Never let it be said that I don’t know how to put you in the holiday mood. The heroine of my debut book, Storm’s Interlude, knows how to get Storm in the mood, too. Even when Rachel, a nurse, is unaware she’s doing it. I’d like to share part of a scene with you.

Show me where your headache hurts, Storm. I’ll see if I can help.”

He sat and then pointed to the areas of pain with his index finger. “Up the back of my neck into my head. Around my head. Behind my eyes.” He’d long since associated his heartburn to stress, now he was wondering if the headaches came from the same source, too.

She started massaging, using her trained thumbs at pressure points. “You get these often?”

“Yeah. Anytime I’m stuck in front of that computer for hours.” Or when I think about marrying Pilar. He blinked several times at that personal revelation. Why hadn’t he made that connection before?

“Maybe you need glasses.” She slowly worked her fingers up and down his neck and then across his shoulders, pressing in hard with her thumbs and gently rippling with her fingers. “You’ve got knots of tension back here. Big knots.”

She leaned over him and dug her elbow into his shoulder. He didn’t know which felt better: her massaging or her breasts pressed against his back. Scents of her perfume wafted in the air, luring and beguiling like a floral siren. Her breathing had quickened in his ear as she ministered to him. His had quickened in like manner. Every one of his senses homed in on Rachel. She was consuming him.

“My God,” he moaned.

“I know I’m being rough, but this is the best way to get these subscapulari muscles to relax. Your trapezes are so tight, too. Goodness.”

Her voice was deep and breathless with exertion, which only fueled his arousal. He closed his eyes. While her massaging and pounding of his muscles sent chills up and down his spine, the smell of her perfume, the sound of her voice, the feel of her breathing against his neck and his ear was inflaming his manhood to near madness. The warmth of her sensual touch was killing him. If he lived through this, he was heading for a cold shower. Hell, a dozen cold showers couldn’t undo the effect she was having on him.

“Tilt your head forward, Storm. I’ve never seen anyone so tense. Even your rhomboids are knotted.” She pressed against him more, rotating her elbow into his knotted muscles. “It’s almost as if the harder I massage, the tighter your knots get.”

No fake! His whole body was a mass of sexual knots. He glanced over his shoulder, taking in her determined expression, her teeth gritted as she pounded and elbowed his muscles into submission. She was clearly in nursing mode, clueless as to what she was doing to his libido.

“Rachel.”

She leaned forward and increased her pressure on his shoulder. “Can’t...talk...now,” she grunted.

“Rachel.”

“Maybe...maybe if I try from the front.” She hurried around the sofa. To his utter amazement, she crawled onto the sofa, straddling her knees on either side of his lap. “Lean down and put your head against my chest. Let me attack those knotted subs and traps from this angle.”

If she wasn’t the cutest thing, hell-bent on ridding him of his headache. If he leaned his head between her breasts, he’d be a goner. No male, unless he was six feet under and been there for twenty years, could take this.

“Rachel.”

“Come on, lean against me. Wish I had one of my wooden rollers to run over your muscles. Maybe I should go upstairs and get one.”

“Rachel.”

She finally stopped talking and peered into his eyes. He watched her slowly shift from nurse to woman. Saw her blink as awareness surfaced. Her blue eyes, wide with shock, shifted to his mouth. “I...ah...should...get off your lap.”

He placed his hands at her waist and shook his head. “No, you’re fine.” He slowly ran his hands up her back and sighed a kiss to her neck. She shuddered when his warm breath caressed her skin.

“This isn’t a good idea. I…I should move.”

“Stay...stay.” Storm’s hands sifted through her long hair. “Silk and curls. I’ve thought of running my hands through your beautiful hair.” She pulled back, her eyes searching his face, her lips parted. “I keep thinking of kissing you again.” His hands clenched in her hair and ever so slowly, he brought her face toward his. “Come here, mouse.”

His lips massaged hers, touching and sipping until a sigh escaped her lips. “You’ve been driving me crazy,” he groaned the words against her lips before he captured them, pouring all his desire and needs into the kiss.

She ran her hands up his chest, around his neck and into his hair. When she moaned, he pressed her closer. He’d meant only to kiss her one time, to taste her lips once more, but that objective was gone. Now he needed more, sought more and, by damn, would have more.

I’m giving away a free eCopy of Storm’s Interlude to one lucky commenter today!!! Everyone have a Merry Christmas season.

Buy Links are:

The Wild Rose Press – http://bit.ly/rcCIMa

Amazon -- http://amzn.to/pkkcLq

Whew! Thanks, Vonnie, for that most excellent post! I'm off now to get some Christmas cheer of my own! *eyebrow waggle*