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About the author:
And did we mention the chocolate?
What inspired you to write your book?
I participated in a collective box set with 6 other authors called FLING. The theme being short summer romance stories. Well, the story got away from me, ad surpassed “short story/novella” ad and plunged into full length novel. It just became so much fun to explore the characters and their past and future relationships that I had to keep writing. Plus I love the setting of a posh and secretive elite summer art school. It was the perfect place for a steamy affair and a little paranormal interference.
Here is a short sample from the book:
Electric shocks zapped through me and I froze as our eyes tangled. There staring back at me through chocolaty bedroom eyes, was the only guy I’d ever had a one night stand with. Almost.
His eyes lingered on my face, as if he was memorizing every detail. Self-consciously, I swiped my tongue across my teeth in case there was leftover spinach from the veggie wraps stuck between them.
This was the Troy Bellisaro? We met when I took his art theory class at night school. It was over a year ago, but he was unforgettable. Everything from his heart-stopping smile and velvety voice, to his chiseled abs and arms to curl up and die for. In class he’d insisted we call him TB. Not once do I remember him using his full name. He was all business casual, suit jacket over jeans, dress shirt, no tie. But here, he was dressed in a black t-shirt that showed off a hint of his tattooed bicep, olive cargo shorts and Birkenstock’s. He walked that irresistible line between nice guy and bad boy. In a flash I was transported back in time, recalling every detail of our encounter. Taking his class. Staying after class. Leaving class to go to his place….
His sinfully sexy dark-chocolate gaze held mine as he extended his hand. “Hi. Troy, Bellisaro.”
Oh. My. God. He’s introducing himself… doesn’t he remember me? What the… “Uhm, hello.”
Maybe he does remember me.
“And you’re teaching the summer marionette class.”
It was really him. Even his voice still resonated in my bones. My face flushed with heat, my mouth dried up and my tongue felt swollen.
“It’s good to meet you,” he said.
This was bad.