A Triptych of Suspense & Romance
Three women, three men, three spirits guarding
a dangerous river. Legend, history and romance intertwine in a triptych of suspense.
Thanks for having me at the Reader’s Nook, Dawn. I’d like to
talk about my romantic suspense, Tryptych, today.
Take lost masterpieces, brilliant inventors, and stolen
prototypes. Add the Three Sisters, Indian spirits who guard the Potomac River.
Stir in three sisters and their lovers. Result? Jealousy, sex, genius, larceny
and love. Who will end up with whom, and will the Three Sisters take another
life as the legend demands?
Triptych,
by M. S. Spencer
Ebook 67,300 words;
Print 213 pp.
Romantic
suspense/Adventure
M/F, 2 flames
Triptych is available
in both eBook and Print-on-Demand.
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/591713
AllRomanceEBooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.comproduct-triptych-1923917-149.html
Createspace: https://www.createspace.com/5846670
Miranda, Honor, and Sybil Cabot live in a Queen-Anne style
mansion overlooking the Potomac River. The mighty Potomac, the fourth largest
river on the east coast, runs 383 miles from Fairfax Stone, WV to Point
Lookout, MD where it flows into the Chesapeake Bay, the “Mother of Waters.”
When she has time, Miranda, the heroine, likes to take the
gravel path down the hill to the river. The stone on which she sits and dreams
of past love and future love, looms large in this story, but in this excerpt,
it is the path itself that serves as a love nest.
Excerpt (R): Sex on the
Stones
They sat down on the narrow gravel path, hip to
hip. His arm snaked around her shoulder. She let him. Together they gazed out
over the water toward the cliffs that rose opposite them on the District side.
Several modest bungalows perched on top. She had once explored the tiny cul-de-sac
there, where half a dozen families had lived for generations. The cheerful
little village of parents and grandparents and toddlers and dogs and cats stood
in marked contrast to this side of the river where only two houses—Dieter’s and
the Cabots’—sat on almost ten acres of woods. She woke from her daydream to
feel Luc nibbling her neck.
She turned her head and found his lips in the way.
The kiss started softly, then hardened and turned hungry. Luc whispered,
“Miranda, I want you. Now.” His hands wandered over her shoulders and down to
her breasts, breasts that still heaved from her run and her fright. He cupped
one, leaned down, unbuttoned her blouse with his teeth and kissed the soft
bulge just above the bra. She rose to meet him, pressing the nipple between his
lips. He held on, suckling, as he gently laid her down. She ignored the sharp
prick of a stone, took her other breast out of its nest and held it for him. He
shot a quick look at her from under the black brows and took her offering in his
mouth.
She lay, reveling in the tingling, pulling
sensation. Sparks
“Do you always wear such sexy underthings? I won’t
be able to think of anything but this bit of black lace whenever I see you.”
She giggled. Miranda! You’re too old to giggle.
And you should stop him now before…unnnngh. Too late. She bucked against
his tongue, and spread her legs wide and wantonly so he could reach the sweet
spot. “Faster, harder, oh Luc!” The climax came swift and hot. She held her body
off the ground, milking his tongue. “More, more,” came through gritted teeth.
The sucking stopped. “Luc! Don’t stop, don’t stop, please.” She was begging but
didn’t care. So close.
“No, dear Miranda. We come together.” His face
appeared before her. His lips were wet and she could smell her juices on him.
It sent her into paroxysms of desire. He deliberately held her shoulders down.
She writhed in heat, then froze. His penis had rammed into her. She was so wet
it slid all the way to the hilt. Slowly he pulled out. The walls of her vagina
felt his hard rod scrape the sides, driving her to fresh heights of ecstasy. He
entered her again, and slowly pulled out. Again and again. They fell into a
rhythm, she rising to meet his shaft and falling away, only to wait in
delirious anticipation of the next penetration. She felt her orgasm grow and
opened her eyes.
“Luc, I’m coming.”
“At last, dearest.” His rhythm increased to fever
pitch, in and out, urging, demanding that she meet him. Just as she arrived at
the point of release, he checked in midair and let out a great sigh. A flood of
warm liquid poured into her.
They lay side by side, staring up at the clouds.
Miranda refused to feel guilty. It just happened. Let it go. She peeked
at Luc’s face, the high cheekbones stretching the olive skin, his thick lashes
nearly touching the thick brows. One black lock fell artlessly over his
forehead. She felt a rush of something and hoped it wasn’t love. I don’t
want to fall in love with someone I’ll soon be visiting in the slammer. There’s
a name for women like that. “Luc? We mustn’t do this again.”
About the Author
Although she has lived or traveled in every continent except
Antarctica and Australia (bucket list), M. S. Spencer has spent the last thirty
years mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant,
speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director
and parent. She has two fabulous grown children, one fabulous grandchild, and
currently divides her time between the Gulf coast of Florida and a tiny village
in Maine.
Contacts
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Linked in: www.linkedin.com/in/msspencerauthor
AUTHOR
PAGES:
I Heart
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1 comment:
Thanks for having Miranda and Luc today at the Nook. I hope your readers enjoy the spicy excerpt. M. S.
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