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About the author:
Clarissa Wild is an avid reader and writer of sexy stories about hot men and feisty women. Her other loves include her furry cat friend and learning about different cultures. In her free time she enjoys watching all sorts of movies, reading tons of books and cooking her favorite meals.
What inspired you to write your book?
I was inspired to write this book, because of another book I read that made me believe I could write erotic romances as well. I got the idea from a dream I had about a hot construction worker.
Here is a short sample from the book:
I sighed and stared at the partially built house across the road. Bulky men worked hard, constructing the house, brick by brick. Their veins protruded through their skins, as they moved the heavy machinery, steel beams and hoisted up materials. I was gawking their muscular bodies, one of them standing out in particular. The reason being, he held a manual upside down.
I sniggered, when one of the men walking passed him took the book from his hand, turned it around and gave it back to him. He frowned, closed it and threw it on a table close to him, before getting a bottle of water. I watched him put the bottle to his muggy lips. As he drank with his chin up, I looked at his buffed torso, the lines of his pectorals peeking through his thin hem. An intricate pattern was tattooed on his right upper arm. His thick jeans were smeared with mud, grease and concrete. Drops of water dripped down his chin and onto his hem, exposing bits of skin. Sweat dripped off his forehead, his well tanned skin glimmering in the hot, sweltering sun.
I gulped. He’s too hot.
He set it back down on the table again and turned to face me. Piercing, green eyes, hidden under thick, bristled brows, stared back at me. My eyes widened in shame, realizing I’d been gaping at him all this time.
I flushed, buried my head between my legs and prayed he didn’t notice. I didn’t dare move, afraid I’d look stupid.
After a few seconds of gathering my courage, I lifted my head again, only to see two rugged yellow boots standing in front of me. My eyes trailed a way, from his scruffy jeans, to his hulking torso, up to his face and the short dark brown hair on top.
I swallowed away the invisible lump in my throat. What a gorgeous man.
But I knew what I was looking at was someone I could never have, even if I wanted to.
“What are you doing here, babe?”
I cocked my head to the side. “Nothing.”
“Do you usually stare at guys like that?” he said.
I snorted and flicked my head to the sidewalk, looking at the people walking by. I pushed myself up from the ground and brushed away the dirt from my skinny jeans. Then I started to walk away from him, but he grabbed my arm.
Frowning, I turned around. “What?”
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice sounded like he was seriously concerned about my wellbeing.
“Yeah …” I choked on my own words. I wasn’t the type to break down in front of strangers, but I wasn’t far from it. This handsome guy was so close and yet so out of my reach. I wanted to have the freedom to decide who I wanted to be with, but looking at this man was only a sad reminder of the situation I was in. Having him touch me made my eyes burn.
I jerked my arm loose and ran across the street.
“Hey, wait a minute!” he shouted. I heard his footsteps behind me, but I kept running. My feet moved on their own, away from everything. Running was the only thing I could do. The rush of adrenaline made me feel alive and yet so desensitized.
However, I didn’t watch where I was going. My eyes weren’t focusing on the car coming from a corner, driving straight at me.
I squealed, but then the guy who ran after me grabbed me tight. He shoved me forward and we both fell down onto the hard concrete, just before the car hit us. It honked and shot past us. The guy was right on top of me.
I huffed, as our faces were inches away. His heavy, muscular body was right on top of mine, his ragged breath puffing in my open mouth. I gaped at his emerald eyes, the stubbly ridges of his chiseled jaw, his just-as-crooked-as-mine nose. He was beautiful and here for the taking.
“Excuse me, babe,” he said as he pushed himself off me and held out his hand.
“Thanks,” I said and let him help me up.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to bulldoze you there.”
“You saved me. No need to apologize,” I said and smiled gently.
He smirked and held out his hand again. “The name’s Finn Wood.”
“Grace Bennett,” I said, shaking his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Grace.”
We stared at each other, without saying anything. Just awkward smiles, with chuckles in between. Our hands, continuously shaking, were still entwined.