Let Summer Solstice Heat Up Your Winter!

It’s the middle of winter and we just came off a two week cold snap of sub zero temperatures. So, naturally, I think of summer! Yes, the long, long days of the Alaskan summer are days of joy to look forward to when the winter sun sets by four in the afternoon and doesn’t clear the mountains before ten the next morning.

With those long, lovely days on my mind, I want to share with you an excerpt from my next release, Halo In Her Pocket, and erotic novella coming January 23 from Cobblestone Press. This is my first release with Cobblestone and I’m very excited about it. I hope you’ll be excited too! It's about one special evening when the summer sun is at its zenith.

Excerpt: Copyright 2008
“Dev! I found it!”

Oh, no. Not Ginger’s evil giggle—again. Devyn kept her face turned toward the racks of T-shirts lining the walls in the small shop. God only knew what Ginger had found this time.

“Look,” Ginger squealed next to her. “This is perfect!”

Devyn reluctantly turned to her friend now bouncing beside her and holding up a black T-shirt. Judging by the size, Ginger had also picked out a size small instead of the large Devyn would have preferred. “I am not going to wear anything with the word bitch or a picture of a cowboy on it,” she said yet again, hoping this time she sounded convincing enough.

Ginger had already come up with the predictable versions of Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy and You Call Me a Bitch Like That’s a Bad Thing.

“No, no, no. Look,” Ginger ordered and held the shirt up.

Devyn read the words and rolled her eyes. This was by far the worst. I Have the Pussy, So I Make the Rules. Maybe the cowboy shirt wasn’t so bad after all. “Ginger,” she said on a groan. “I will not wear that! Where are you finding these?”

“Not next to the angel and kitten shirts, that’s for sure.” Ginger rolled her own eyes and spun on her stiletto heel.

“Why can’t I just get a plain, white shirt?” Devyn waved at the folded shirts in the middle of the store. “Or even an Alaska one?” There were plenty of homegrown designs available. Some were even quite classy if you ignored those paying tribute to fish and fishing. Who knew you could find such variety in Anchorage? Then again, it was June, the very height of tourist season. “I like the Moose Springsteen one.”

“They’re boring, for one. Too touristy for another. Besides, the invitation says the most obnoxious or sexy tee will win a prize.”

“Right,” Devyn muttered. “Like I’d consider hanging out with a guy who wore one of these.” She glared at a shirt proudly proclaiming Sex Instructor, First Lesson Free. Or here was a classic, Women Cream at the Mention of My Name. Oh yeah.

Not!

With a snort, she turned back to the wall. Why, oh why, did I let Ginger talk me into this? Who did I piss off in the Great Cosmos this time?

Devyn’s eyes just wouldn’t focus as she stared at the wall lined with silkscreen printed cotton shirts. Too many choices. Maybe she should just get the one that said, If It Weren’t for Bad Luck, I’d Have No Luck at All. It would scream loser and have every guy at the party tripping over themselves to stay away from her. That would work. Just like her last two boyfriends.

“Okay, this is it, and I won’t let you talk me out of it.”

Ginger was back and holding up a white shirt, the large letters on the front proclaiming the message, Not Only Am I Perfect, I’m a Redhead Too!

“Fine.” It was at least truthful. She was a redhead, and she was a perfect mess. It would work.

“You could look a little happier.” Ginger tossed her thick ponytail of glossy brown hair back over her shoulder. Devyn was too used to the narrow-eyed glare to be affected by it.

“What did you find for yourself?” Devyn took the shirt and checked the size. “This is too small.”
“No, it isn’t. A large hangs on you like a potato sack. This will show off your most perfect features perfectly.” Ginger snatched the shirt from Devyn’s hand. “I’m buying, so you don’t have a say in the size.”

“Gin, this is ridiculous…” Devyn’s protest fell on deaf ears. Just like all her protests had for the past fifteen years. Inseparable since the age of twelve when they’d shared a desk at school, Devyn should have learned by now that once Ginger declared something was it, that was the end of the argument. Or rather, the end of Ginger listening.

“You’re a 32DD, not a 40D. You can wear the small. Yes, it will be snug, but that’s the whole point!”

“May I at least try it on to be sure it will even go over my head?” Fifteen years had also taught her just the right mixture of sarcasm to push Ginger’s buttons.

“Fine. I want to try on this one for me anyway.” Ginger brandished a hot pink shirt, grabbed Devyn’s arm, and dragged her toward the dressing rooms. “There’s only one open so we can share.”

Just like they always did. Devyn let Ginger push her into the cubicle at the back wall of the store. The louvered door slammed shut behind them, and Ginger threw the small barrel bolt.

“Did you see that guy on the other side of the rack from you?” Ginger whispered as she pulled her tank top over her head.

“No. What about him?” Devyn concentrated on swapping shirts. When she tugged the tight tee into place, she was glad she’d worn a flesh colored spandex bra today. The material of the shirt was so cheap she could almost see the dusky rose color of her nipples. At least the thin fabric of the bra lay flat and didn’t show too much beneath the shirt. The shirt molded to her like a second skin, showing the outline of her body from ribcage to waist, where it stopped just shy of the top of her jeans. A dressmaker could take her measurements and not have to adjust a bit.

“He was checking you out, that’s for sure. I tell ya, I wouldn’t kick him out of my bed for eating crackers.” Ginger turned and looked at her figure sideways in the mirror. “Gorgeous. Just the way we like ’em.”

Devyn looked in the mirror. Did Ginger mean the man or the curves emphasized by the tight shirts?

“Tequila makes your clothes fall off?” Devyn read the message on Ginger’s tee.

Ginger met Devyn’s raised eyebrow in the reflection and waggled hers with a naughty giggle. “Damn straight it does.”

“You’re hopeless.” Devyn tried to pull the shirt off. “And this is hopeless. Gin, I told you this was too tight. I’m going to need scissors to get this off!”

“Leave it on. They can cut the tag off. We’re headed straight to the party anyway.”

“You’re kidding, right? I can’t wear this out in public!” The shirt was so tight she felt naked in it. Throw a bucket of water on her and she might as well be naked. Didn’t take much imagination for her to make the leap; wouldn’t take a nanosecond for anyone else to connect with that thought as well.

“Yes. You. Can.” Ginger turned and grabbed her shoulders, nails digging in just enough to make Devyn wince. Yeah, Ginger had her attention. “You’re beautiful. You are not a cow. You are a curvaceous bundle of beauty, and we’re going to show those two asshole ex’s of yours what they tossed away.”

“No.” Icy blood burned through her veins. “No. Tell me Tony and Jack won’t be there tonight.” It felt as if every drop of fluid in Devyn’s body pooled in her churning stomach. Ginger’s grip kept her from crumpling to the floor. This wasn’t happening. It was too soon to face Jack in public, much less with Tony there too.

“Most likely. I’ve been assured this party is the hottest one in town tonight.”

Devyn shook her head but didn’t feel it. She wasn’t in her own body at the moment.

“Devyn Wynne, get a grip on yourself right this minute!”

Ginger’s sharp tone and sharper grip had the effect of a slap across the face. “You said nothing about them being there. I would have refused to go—”

Abruptly softening, Ginger pulled her into a hug. “I know. That’s why we made this stop on our way over there, and why I wanted you to wear the Bitch shirt. Still, this will do just fine because neither one of them could see perfection when they had it in their arms. Bastards.” Ginger released her and spat out the oft-repeated epitaph that described her opinion of the two men Devyn had wasted two years on. One year apiece. The breakup with Jack was the most recent and most painful to date.

“Come on. I know for certain there will be tons of hot men there tonight. You won’t even have to bump into the butt brothers.”

Butt brothers. Devyn’s laugh sounded more like a snort. That worked for her. Neither one of them had ever wanted to fuck her in the ass, but they’d done each other. She shook her head and gathered her purse and discarded shirt. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into these things.”

“Because you have the hottest bod in town.”

“Only because you made me wear jeans that won’t let me breathe and sandals that won’t let me walk like a normal person. Now I look like a slut.” Especially after their two hours spent in the spa right after lunch, which included new hair, new makeup, manicure and pedicure. This shirt was the last touch to the new Devyn. But, hey, it made Ginger happy. Devyn did feel a little better about how she looked.

“A classy slut.” Ginger kissed her on the cheek then pushed her out of the cubicle.

“Gin!” she protested, stumbling in the four-inch sandals Ginger had shoved onto her feet earlier.
She fell against something hard and warm. Strong arms wrapped around her, and a deep chuckle rumbled under her cheek. Devyn’s hands flew out to grasp thick biceps of iron in an effort to regain her balance.

“Whoa there! I got you.”

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry…” her voice trailed off as she looked up into deep brown eyes. Dark, melted chocolate eyes. Sinful, make-a-girl-roll-over-and-beg eyes. Eyes so deep they made her mouth water, her body liquefy, and her inner imp try to think of ways to make him take her over his knee and spank her.

Effortlessly, he lifted her just enough to set her straight on her feet, but he didn’t let go. The way her pulse started pounding it was a good thing. Already shaken by Ginger’s words, any blood remaining in Devyn’s head surely rushed to her pussy and made it throb with aching need. The reaction was so intense that it felt as though the hard seam of her jeans pressed tight between the petals of her labia. All she had to do was rock her hips forward to increase the pressure on her clit and she’d probably climax. Then again, she didn’t seem to be the only one, if the hard protuberance behind her rescuer’s zipper was any indication. The way it pressed against her abdomen was quite obvious.

Large hands grasped her waist as the devil’s eyes stared down at her.

“I’m… I’m awfully sorry…about…th-th-that,” Devyn stammered.

“Why? I’m not.” His deep voice was quiet, the rumble in his chest teasing her hardening nipples.
She was wrong about the location of her blood. All of it rushed to her face, making her feel dizzy for yet another reason, and it made her angry. She was not a blushing virgin, nor was she a dimwitted, ditzy female.

Before she could get worked up, that small, crooked smile of his blasted the rising wind of indignation from her sails.

Ginger left the dressing room and bumped Devyn’s shoulder, jostling her even further into the stranger’s arms. “Well now, this is what I call a fortuitous event.”

Her friend’s amused observation pulled Devyn from her stupor. She stepped back and dropped her gaze, taking in the rest of him before staring at the floor. A crisply-pressed, ivory cotton dress shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, was tucked into black jeans riding low on his hips. Not obscenely tight, they still molded to his lower body in a way that said they were old friends.

“I agree,” the stranger said smoothly. “May I have the pleasure of your name?”

Devyn looked up again. Sun-streaked hair in a variety of shades from warm honey to bleached blond curled over his ears and the collar of his shirt. Warm, just like his tan and burning eyes. High, sculpted cheekbones and a square jaw showing the glint of a golden, five-o’clock shadow. He looked clean and smelled even better with a hint of leathery fragrance clinging to his skin. And tall. Even with her extra four inches of height from the sandals, she still had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. Six-two? Three?

“My silent, yet adorable, friend here is Miss Devyn Wynne. I’m Ginger Gladstone.” Leave it to Ginger to ignore awkward situations and emphasize Devyn’s single state. “And you are?”

One of the warm hands moved from Devyn’s waist to shake Ginger’s hand. “Shane DeVilbiss.” His attention returned to Devyn a moment later. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Wynne.”

Like warmed honey, his voice flowed over her, causing her body temperature to shift once more, this time back to her core as his large hand returned to her waist and pulled her closer. Her fingers flexed as she realized she still gripped his muscular arms.

“Likewise,” she said, and recalled her polite smile. “Now that we’re acquainted, maybe you should release me.”

“I don’t know. I think this style of greeting works just fine.”

“Any friendlier and we’d be in bed.” She laughed weakly. Yeah, she could see him in bed, his dark eyes looking up from between the curtains of her long hair hanging down, her thighs straddling his hard body as he…

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Available January 23 from Cobblestone Press

Morgan Q. O'Reilly
Get Some Tonight
Webpage: http://morganqoreilly.com/
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More Morgan Books
From Lyrical Press http://www.lyricalpress.com
Frozen ~ Where Ice is Hot ~ In print and ebook
Chinook Wine and Sink Her ~ ebook

Cowboys Dream Too ~ Coming April 2009

Also available at Amazon/Kindle and Mobi Pocket