Meet Finn Travis…

“Cuffed” is done and edited and now just needs to be Kindle formatted. Hooray! In the past few weeks I’ve dived head-first into a new novella, which I’m tentatively calling “Surfed”.

Finn Travis is a local surf celebrity and all-around-good guy. Laid back. Easy on the eyes. More likely to invite you into his hammock then put on a suit (unless it’s a wet suit).

Avery Dacosta is a local hotel developer–sarcastic, whip-smart, and trying desperately to build a hotel on the beach that Finn, and many other residents, love and wish to protect.

Finn Travis 2I wrote a good scene this morning so thought I’d share a little teaser. And enjoy my muse for Finn 😉 Happy #HumpDay

Something told me Avery didn’t just submit for anyone.

I crouched down again, like the other night, putting us on the same level.

“It wasn’t that stupid of an idea. You’re attracted to me.”

“I think you’re a dirty hippie who refuses to live in reality.”

I laughed. “And I think you’re a money-grubbing capitalist who only cares about the bottom line.” She looked a little hurt for a second, then shook it off.

“See? Stereotypes hurt, Avery.”

“I don’t just care about the bottom line, so you know. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t see Playa Vieja’s need for an economic boost.”

I looked at her warily. “What do you mean?”

“Finn,” she said, looking exasperated. “Tourism is the lifeblood of any coastal community. For all of it’s values, Playa Vieja is really struggling. I’m not lying when I tell people this will bring local jobs. That you all need these jobs.”

I felt my nostrils flare. “Don’t tell us what we need. You live in the city, you don’t know.”

She nodded her head at the stack of papers in the car. “Research tells me that, Finn. I don’t need to have lived there.”

“And the opinions and ideas of the residents don’t matter to you at all? Numbers can’t tell a complete story.”

“You think the residents of Playa Vieja want to keep living paycheck-to-paycheck? They’re not all Maverick winners.”

I stood up, swearing under my breath. “Why are you the most goddamn irritating woman alive?” I said, more harshly than I intended.

“Because I’m right and you know it.”

Jesus. “Good night, Avery.” I said, half-turning. But she reached out and grabbed my arm, stopping me.

“I meant what I said Finn. I’m tired, I’m overworked and the whole–” she made a kind of a spirit-finger gesture, then slammed her palms together.

“Is that us kissing? Is that your version of that?” I asked, half-laughing again. She made me feel so out-of-whack.

“Oh fuck you, yes. You know what I mean.” Her face was serious. Too serious. Which made me feel like she was lying when she said, “It cannot happen again. Everything is too important right now.”

I nodded, knowing she was right but still wanting to play with fire.

“You’re right,” I said, slowly. “So I’ll get back to my date. And you’ll go home and research. And later, after I’ve kissed her goodnight, and promised to call her later, I’m going to take a long, hot shower and I’m going to touch myself.”

I watched her breathing hitch. “I’m going to think of you, just like this, looking up at me with those beautiful eyes. Making you put that mouth of yours to work.”

“You won’t,” she murmured, but it lacked her usual heat.

“And I suggest you do the same, love. Because the only thing in this world right now that would be better than your mouth on my cock? Is my mouth, all over your perfect body.”

 

 

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