Eleven Jim Caviezel's piping!!!!
Take it away Wendy Burke!!!
Did you know that the hero in my latest novel, NICK was based on Jim Caviezal??
Want to know why?
Oh, here is why...
So, I’ve been taking a look at all the hunks Deanna’s had on
her blog so far during this run, and a feel a bit inadequate. I wanted to use all the hunks I’d ‘lusted
over’ in the past (and in some cases still do!) but DW was insistent that I use
the model for my latest story
Wise Men Say. And that hunk would be – okay, go ahead and groan now – Jim Caviezel.
I’ve
been a fan of his well before he was John Reese in Person of Interest or Jesus in The
Passion of the Christ. My ‘perking up’
came about years ago in High Crimes and
Déjà vu – and I watched that one for
another reason – Denzel Washington. But, I digress…
Some would say there’s nothing overly ‘spectacular’ about
Jim, he’s got that plain, all-American kid-next-door look to him, and maybe that’s what’s
attractive to me. Regardless, he was the perfect model for the male character
in my latest release
Wise Men Say, from
Decadent Publishing.
Shortly after I send the story to the submissions editor, this picture showed up somewhere on
Facebook. It happens on occasion, someone goes picking through the photo folder
in my head – and boom there it is! To
top it off, he’s even dressed the part of the character!
And, I couldn’t appear on this blog without offering up some
free stuff! Just zip me an email: wendyburke1994@bex.net
by 12:01AM Dec. 26th and one person will win a copy of
Wise Men Say and a beautiful hand blown
glass Christmas ornament!
Good Luck – thanks for reading and Merry Christmas!
BLURB:
More than twenty years ago, Emmy Patterson kissed her fiancé
for the last time. Despite bad news from U.S. military services, to this day
she has reasons to hold on to hope he's alive and celebrates his life every
chance she gets.
Her family, however, thinks her partly crazed, unable to
grasp the reasoning behind her perpetual optimism.
Called on a business trip to promote her glass artwork, she
spends the winter holidays in Las Vegas.
Is this chance travel to the The Castillo in Vegas a coincidence, or
does the wise Madame Eve know ‘some things’ were meant to be?
EXCERPT:
Usually after so much time in the cold,
she’d be tired but instead she tossed and turned.
Office of the Pentagon.
Why did that have to come today?
“Dammit.” Getting out of bed, she went to
her closet. Dragging out a step stool, she reached for the box tucked in the
furthest corner of the shelving. She got a hand on the container, and with
reverence, she slipped it from its resting place. Careful, it’s almost all
you have left of him.
Cross-legged on her mattress, with the
linens and comforter bunched about her, she smoothed a small area and placed
the box there. She slipped off its lid. Inside sat a flat, vacuum-packed
plastic bag holding a near-ratty sweatshirt. The word Navy printed on
the front, faded and close to illegible, the article of clothing had seen many
washings.
But, yet, it hadn’t been washed
in twenty years.
Removing the shirt from the bag, she
placed it in her lap where she stroked the decade’s old piece of clothing.
Closing her eyes, she remembered Nick’s solid biceps filling out the jersey
fabric, his well-cut pectorals curving the front. Slipping a hand into the
pullover’s opening, she imagined his flat, muscled tummy meeting her touch and
her finger tracing a dark trek of cottony down.
She smiled, seeing his salacious grin in
return, while his hand grasped hers, willing it further into his boxers.
“Where are you, Nicky?”
Stretching out, she kept the sweatshirt
close to her face. It irritated her that she could barely discern his scent
considering she’d taken such care to retain it.
He filled her mind. Sure, she had photo upon
photo of him, of them together, but those images captured not the essence
of her Nick; his kindness, loyalty, dedication to her and to his country,
and of course, the physical memories. She cursed herself, reaching far back
into her memory, trying to extract the sound of his voice. Would I even
recognize it if I heard it?
She clutched the fleece closer, her free
hand caressing low on her belly. She fantasized his specter kisses on her neck.
Burying her face further into his clothing, she dug her hand under the
waistband of her flannel pajama pants.
Even after so many years away, the mere
thought of him aroused her; his beautiful, well-cut muscles flexing as he
undressed, honed from workouts no gym rat could ever tolerate. The taste of his
mouth, bright and pepperminty, his talented tongue, so insistent she swore he
had the ability to suck her clit inside out. She gasped into the blue material
as she slipped her finger deep between her folds, dreaming of him.
Holding back tears, she recalled the first
time Nick had touched her in such a manner. After they’d dated for about a
year, Nick got relocated from Virginia to California for SEAL training. Meeting
up in Las Vegas proved easy, a cheap flight for both of them—her from Milwaukee
and him from San Diego. In her mind, she leaned back into Nick’s broad chest as
hot tub bubbles tickled her bare skin. The sunset over the Vegas Strip had been
magnificent. After emptying a bottle of Moet to toast Nick’s new career
path, some extensive fooling around ensued. In her memory, he lifted her from
the tub, carrying her to bed. That moment, he kissed her in a way he’d never
done before—and with good reason, that night, with her permission, he he’d
taken her virginity.
She panted into the sweatshirt, her tissue
swelling around her drenched finger. “Oh!” An electric burning sensation forced
her finger from direct clitoral contact, but she forged through it, bringing
herself over the edge. She cried out, her arms legs and torso trembling through
her orgasm.
“I miss you, Nicky….”
She clutched the one remaining possession of her fiancé and
cried herself to sleep.
You can buy her books HERE and at all reputable ebook sites!
