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About the author:
Mandy Lee was born and raised in Leicester, in the UK, where she still lives with her extended family. Until December 2017, she was a secondary school teacher, but finally gave up the day job to devote all her time to writing. In her spare time, Mandy loves going for walks, playing with Lego with her grandson (she’s not that old, mind) and holidays in Southern Spain with friends.
Mandy has been writing for most of her life, trying out different genres. It wasn’t until she discovered erotic romance (a genre she loves reading) that she really found her home. She released You Don’t Know Me in 2015, True Colours in 2016, and Shut Your Eyes in 2017. For a time, Shut Your Eyes became the number one hot new release for erotic romance on Amazon.UK. Mandy is currently working on a new erotic romance trilogy about three brothers, each book to be a standalone in its own right.
What inspired you to write your book?
I'm a huge fan of erotic romance, and had read quite a few of them. I got the idea for You Don't Know Me out of the blue, and decided to give it a go!
Here is a short sample from the book:
Absent-mindedly, I pull a large blank notepad towards myself and begin to doodle. I start with the outline of a face and barely know who it belongs to. Out of nowhere, features begin to appear, and I’m hardly aware of them. Eyes, ears, nose, a mouth. I begin to shade, to add detail, including a mop of hair, and before long the doodle has developed into a full-blown sketch. I know who it is now, and I have no idea why I’m drawing him, but I’m determined to finish it off. I move on to the finer details, adding more definition to the lips, wondering idly what they’d feel like against my body. I shade the hair a little more, imagining that I’m running my fingers through his tumbling locks. I strengthen the jaw and shade the firm cheek bones. And finally, I return to the eyes. There’s something not quite right about them. They’re too vulnerable. I’ve got it all wrong.
‘That really is quite a remarkable likeness.’
A rich, velvety voice shakes me out of my dream world. Caught in the act, I slap my hand over the sketch and look back over my shoulder only to find him standing directly behind me. How did he do that? How did he get into the office without me hearing the door? And how long has he been standing there? I notice that he’s wearing an expensive black jacket and that his hands are thrust into his trouser pockets. My eyes travel up his chest, growing wider at what they see. Behind that crisp white shirt, there’s clearly a perfect six pack. I catch my breath and look up further, past the loosened black tie, pausing at his neck, noting that the top button is undone. I wonder momentarily what it would feel like to run my lips across that skin. Finally, I take a breath and raise my eyes to his face. He’s smiling at me with those steely blue eyes, only now they don’t seem to be steely at all. They’re softer somehow, and they’re twinkling. I watch as the eyes move from the picture and fix themselves on my own face. A spark of electricity kicks off in my stomach, flinging itself about my body like the Tazmanian Devil. Suddenly, I’m breathing far too quickly and my hands have begun to shake.
‘I … don’t know why …’
His lips curl up into a smile and my God, he has a lovely smile. I want to reach up and run my fingers across his lips but that really would be out of order.
‘You have a talent there, Miss Scotton.’
‘But …’ And anyway, why is he smiling? The man hates me.
‘But,’ he mimics me. ‘I wonder why you’ve chosen to sketch my face?’
He leans further forwards, reaches out and takes hold of my hand, repositioning it slightly to the left so that the sketch is on full view again. It’s only a second or two of physical contact, but all sorts of mess is kicking off in my body. I’m a quivering wreck.
‘It’s not …’ Oh shit, why am I even trying to claim that it’s someone else? It’s certainly his face. It’s exactly his face … apart from the eyes.
‘And you’ve done this from memory?’
‘But we’ve only just met.’
I shrug my shoulders and turn back to the sketch. He’s leaning in closer again. I can almost feel his breath on my neck. And now I’m picking up on his scent. I love it. I could drink it in. I want to turn back around and dig my head into his firm chest, but that would be completely unprofessional.
‘And you already know me so well,’ he says softly. ‘I must have made quite an impression on you.’
Yes, you did make quite an impression on me, and you know it, my brain screams out. In fact, you make quite an impression on all women, and you know that too. And this particular woman may currently want to dig her head into your chest, but you’re an arrogant twat, and she’s not about to forget that. While my brain complains, my mouth refuses to work. Somewhere along the line, something has been disconnected. I remain silent. Turning over the notepad and hoping to God that he’s moved away, I get up from my chair. But he hasn’t moved at all. As soon as I take a step to the side and turn around, I slam straight into him and catch my breath. My face is right up against that chest and good Lord, he smells even more divine up close. A hand clasps me on each shoulder and I’m held in place by his grip. I find myself gazing up into his eyes and for a moment or two, I’m lost.
‘Steady now,’ he whispers.