Thank you so much for inviting me onto your blog, to show you a little of Taken Identity.
Taken Identity was so much fun to write. Yes, I know, I say that all the time, but I enjoy writing, and love adding humour to my stories.
However I also like to try to do a bit if 'what if' in my stories.
This what if is…
What if someone turns up on your doorstep looking for someone one with the same name.
Okay, not too much of a coincidence I guess especially if you're John or Joan Smith. But with the same description, and same job?
Then it gets a wee bit worrying.
So what would you do?
The blurb says it all…
I was more than happy when my muse informed me that this story was set in my neck of the woods. It's one thing I try to do with everything I write. Set them somewhere I know and love.
Here's a wee tease…
Jules swiftly logged off her laptop and closed it down. Swivelling to pick up her bag from the floor caused her skirt to ride up her long legs, and her blouse to tighten around her breasts. She shovelled all her diaries into her bag and stood up. “I’m ready.”
“So am I,” he said.
Oh, yes, she could see that and realized just how ready he was. Just a pity he couldn’t show her. Although, she didn’t need to look far to discover for herself a rough idea—fitted trousers were not the best thing for hiding an erection, especially not one with the strength of his.
Jules found her eyes drifting downwards. She had to recheck. Being Jules, she just had to comment. “Wow, aren’t you just? Is all that for me?”
“Well, there’s no one else here who can arouse me like you seem to. Without trying.”
She cocked her head to one side. “Do not put thoughts into my head, Gray. Or I will try. Hard.”
Gray stared at her, surveyed her. His eyes were bright, and she shivered. As he looked at her breasts, she felt her nipples tighten beneath the thin material of her top and knew he could see this evidence as easily as she felt it.
“By all means, try,” he said cordially, in invitation. “But beware the consequences. Try as hard as you like. Make me hard. Christ, make me come, if you want. Because, I want. To come, hard, with you, in you, on you—your choice, Jules. How and when. But know this. You try anything, and I’ll try back, and succeed. I don’t give up my dominance unless I chose to. On this occasion I don’t think that’s at all likely.”
Judging by the look on his face, he was waiting for a smart comeback. For the life of her, she didn’t have one. There was nothing she could think of to say. Instead, she walked to the door. “Shall we?”
Gray pondered. “Oh, we shall Never fear. But for now, let’s head to your home.”
Jules choked on a splutter.
“Do you know, Jules, although this sexually charged repartee is enjoyable, the hard-on I have to suffer—and suffer is the word—bloody well is not. I hope you’re feeling as horny and frustrated as I am. I want nothing more than to strip you, hold you down and fuck the living daylights out of you. Then tan your arse until it’s as red as your hair. So now you know.” His voice was hoarse.
“Ah. Okay. Um. Oh, good. Thank you, I think.”
“Take it from me, once I sort this whole sodding mess out, find out about my is-she-or-isn’t-she wife—who I hasten to add is responsible for all the negatives in my life at the moment—I won’t let you from under me for a week.” He stopped, and she watched, fascinated as a wolfish grin spread over his face. “Except to put you over me, in me, around me…”
He shrugged. “Until that time comes, until I sort this unrepeatable bleep of a woman out, I guess I will be worshiping at the shrine of Pam and her five sisters. That is a journey I’ve rarely undertaken these last few years.”
Jules looked at him blankly before bursting out laughing. “Pam and her…? Oh my God, what an expression. I love it.”
Gray’s face was almost the colour of her hair. “Trust me when I say I don’t. Having to use her, I mean. Hell, it’s not something I’ve had the need or desire for since I was a scrubby schoolboy. Not until you came on the scene.”
Typical man, blame her for—well, Jules, she thought, actually, it is a compliment. What she was going to do about it, she wasn’t sure yet. Yes, she might fancy the pants off him, but there was way too much baggage being carried about to even contemplate what she was contemplating. Wasn’t there?
As he followed her to the door, holding it open to allow her to precede him, Jules felt his eyes fixed steadily on her rear.
“Stop ogling,” she snapped. Grief, had her moods ever been so mercurial before?
“Careful, pet.” His voice was level, but his determination rang out loud and clear. “You’ve had a lot of leeway, and if you want us to go back to being virtual strangers with no electricity and tension between us, now’s the time to say so. Otherwise, I’ll ogle if I so choose. It gives me something positive, something good to look at and think about. It is a perfect rear view and perfect front view, as well, if I’m honest.”
Shit, talk about embarrassment.
“Yes, sorry, Sir.” Where on earth had that come from?
“Not yet, pet, but soon, I hope.” He must have guessed she was self-conscious about her slip, because he changed the subject with aplomb.
“What about dinner? Shall we eat now, or can we call for something later?”
She laughed aloud at that. “Typical townie statement that, Gray. Who d’you think will deliver to us out in the sticks? There’s no conveniently situated take-away. However, if you’re happy with home cooking, there’s no problem.”
Gray stared at her, looking as if he could hardly believe his ears.
“Replay what you said. Home…cooking. Oh, yeah, sadly, I did mishear. You said cooking. Cooking. With a C.”
Huh? Oh, that was it. She was going to have to go to meditation or hypnosis or something to learn how to control this awful blush. The raised eyebrow, the quirk of his lips, his pointed look down his body to a very, “Hey, look, I’m here. Don’t forget me,” part of his anatomy, made her giggle. He was not such a stuffed shirt after all.
“Anyway,” he continued. “If you are sure you don’t mind, I’d love some home cooking. I eat just about everything.”
“Tripe and onions?”
“Er, almost anything, Jules. Don’t think that covers tripe.”
She was aware of how he held himself rigid, presumably to stop the involuntary shudder that had started, and she noticed his erection had completely subsided. Now she knew what she had to do if he became too aroused. Mention tripe.
If you want to find out more about me and my books…
Love R x