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About the author:
Sienna Crane is fascinated by the power of stories. She loves painting pictures with words that titillate and challenge, shock and delight. She hopes her vivid menage encounters stay with you even once the words have faded.
What inspired you to write your book?
I was noticing something trending on technology and got to thinking about rideshare apps like Lyft and Uber. How ubiquitous they are these days, how handy. Apps show up on my phone now and then and I forget what they even are sometimes. What if someone got an app that turned out to be so much more than just a ride? (And as for the carwash scene…I've always been fascinated by carwashes!)
Here is a short sample from the book:
Now, I might be young, and I might be relatively innocent, but I’m not usually the type of girl to get into a car with a stranger just because someone offers me candy.
But this guy was different.
He was wearing a suit, no tie, and the top two buttons of his shirt were open. His hair was dark and tousled. He had a bit of a 5 o’clock shadow, but he didn’t look sloppy. No, everything about him seemed stylish and expensive. He was a few years older than me, maybe mid-thirties. I’ve always had a thing for older guys. Men with self-assurance. Men who can take care of themselves.
I’m no gold-digger, and he clearly didn’t need to be paying for his companionship. It was his confidence, though, that really intrigued me. But it also set off my alarm bells. Because anyone ballsy to just stop a girl on the street would be way too much trouble for me. I began to veer away from the car, when he stopped me in my tracks.
I walked a few steps before I turned to face him. He rolled forward to catch up with me. I put my hands on my hips. “How do you know my name?”
He cocked his head toward a smartphone mounted on his dash. “Wheelz. I thought your profile pic might be Photoshopped, but I see it really does do you justice.”
“Oh….” I laughed nervously, flustered that I’d thought this guy was cruising me, just randomly trying to pick me up off the street. “I’m sorry, did I butt-dial you? I didn’t mean to call a Wheelz. My apartment’s just a few blocks away.”
His gaze flickered to my butt. Briefly. But noticeably. “No, I’m not here to give you a ride. I’m here to get one.” He smiled slowly. “From you.”
Was that an innuendo of some kind? It seemed like it might be, but if it was, I didn’t understand it. “Come closer,” he said.
“Momma always told me not to accept rides from strangers,” I told him playfully.
“Then, I’m Leo…and now we’re not strangers anymore.” He opened his door—the driver side door—and slid over to the passenger seat. “Hop in, Miss Page, and let’s go for a little spin.”