Lavada Dee, author of This Old House Series

Please welcome my very special guest author, Lavada Dee whose third book in her This Old House Series is now out.

Donna: How long have you been writing?

Lavada: I started writing relatively late. And, I’m still not sure if is a good thing or not. I have more time now, more life experiences, but will I ever be able to write all the stories I want to tell? Probably not though I don’t think I’d have time to write them all if I’d started in grade school. So how long has it been, hummmm, too long. No really, I started writing in 1993 so 17 years. Yikes, has it really been that long? But at first I sort of played with it. Writing, writing, writing, then going for a year or so without anything.

Donna: What kind of stories do you write?

Lavada: Currently I write in two genres, contemporary and romantic suspense and I have two books published in each. The first book This Old House: Love Comes Home has been equated to a Hallmark story. Even though the heat level is low it plays with sensuality. Elevator Pitch - They need each other and what they can offer each other seems ideal except these two people attract attention. They’re young, beautiful and no one in Ross’s home town is going to believe Katherine’s just the nanny. Solution…marriage. Rules… in name only.

For the second book, For Love or Money, I ramped up the sensuality as the plot lends itself to the increased heat level. Here’s an Elevator Pitch -- Wealthy hotel owner Alexander Colin King wants a child and heir. He is use to getting what he wants and he wants Megan for the mother of his baby.

You can read more about these books and the other two on my website at http://lavadadee.com

Donna: A lot of people tell me they’d love to write a book, but they just don’t have time. So when do you find time to write?

Lavada: When I started out the majority of my writing time was late at night like from 11:00 to 1:00 or 2:00. The house was quiet and there weren’t the interruptions. Now, I’m finding I do better if I write for the first few hours after I get up (and I don’t get up early). Then I’ll usually go back to it for an hour or so before I go to bed.

Donna: Sounds like a great solution. What are you working on now?

Lavada: I just finished book one of what I intend to be a 3 or 4 book series. The books are set in Western Montana and there are four unmarried, unattached brothers who enjoy bachelorhood until four women intrude. Domestic violence, both physical and emotional is a core plot for each of the women. In the first book Galynn is a victim of life threatening physical abuse and is running from a relationship when Cooper literally finds her on the side of the road.

Donna: Do you have an excerpt you can share with us?

Lavada: Here's one from Open House on Love:

The doorbell sounded its shrill bleep, and Aimee nearly fell off the sofa.

That does it! First thing tomorrow I’m having a chime put in. One with a gentle sound instead of this horrible alarm type one.

Aimee cautiously made her way to the front door. It didn’t offer much in the way of security, let alone privacy. When she bought the house, she loved the old-fashioned look of the full-panel glass door so much that she put a tiered, lace curtain on it instead of a blind. Now she wished she had a heavy solid door with a security peephole so she could see who stood outside without them seeing her.

Peering through the lacy pattern of the curtain, she couldn’t recognize the person standing there. The hall light blazed overhead, making her clearly visible, but her visitor stood far enough back and off to the side that the porch light left him in shadow. She didn’t think the person was a woman. Either way, it was suspicious that anyone would be at her door at this hour. Her heartbeat quickened, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn’t have any way of protecting herself after she opened the door, but reason told her if the person wanted in, a glass door wouldn’t stop them whether she opened it or not. She unlocked the door and, with trepidation, opened it a crack.

“You’re going to have to give me a little more room if you’re going to let me come in.”

Aimee let out an involuntary gasp, her hand going to her throat. Quin leaned against a porch post, not making any move to come closer as he waited for her to open the door for him. Silently, he watched her, his expression daring her to let him enter.

She hesitated. What was he doing here? Was this a turning point? A crossroad? If she opened the door would her whole world change?

But, if she didn’t open it, she knew without a doubt she would be closing the door on all her dreams. For seventeen years Quin had been a part of her life. Not physically, because she’d never seen him after the night of her high school graduation. But he had lived in her heart, a place bigger than life.

Aimee stood frozen. Gone was the boy of seventeen years ago. In his place a devastatingly beautiful man stood who was all male. She watched a cynical smile spread across his full, sensual lips. Longing and desire and uncertainty rattled her senses. Every inch of him whispered danger, but in her heart, she knew she would never be able to turn her back and walk away from him.

She swung the door wide. Light spilled over him as he stepped inside.

She drew in a breath. Quin’s presence filled the room, making it shrink in size. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his, and they both stood in the entry, not touching and yet drawing into each other. When she found herself in his arms, she wasn’t sure who had moved first.

Quin’s mouth dipped to hers and at once deepened the kiss. A jolt—like a charge of electricity—shot all the way through her. Aimee clung to him, realizing that if he let her go, her legs weren’t going to hold her up. He released her mouth to trail kisses down her throat, then came back to claim her mouth again, his tongue mingling with hers.

Aimee lost all sense of the world around her. Quin was the world, the stars, and the very breath of life. She let her hands familiarize her with the feel of his hair, face, and shoulders. He smelled the same as he had seventeen years ago, of fresh, clean air. Tonight it was more pronounced, carried in on the chill of the frigid night air of early spring. But Aimee wasn’t the least bit cold.

* * * *

Quin felt on fire. Before she’d opened that door he’d been about to turn into an icicle, but now? Now he couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted more. No—he needed more. He slipped his hands into the waistband of her pants and cupped her bottom, drawing her against his arousal. He half-expected her to pull away, but she shifted and got closer to him.

Groaning, he fought to get control. With the small part of his brain that still worked, he realized the lights above them illuminated quite a picture to anyone passing by.

That wasn’t what he wanted. Aimee was precious, and what was between them was only for the two of them. He couldn’t—and wouldn’t—do anything that would lessen the wealth of what they shared.

It felt like hell forcing himself to back away. “Honey, we have to get out of this light.”

She made a muffled noise into his shoulder, and he hugged her tightly to his chest. He looked up for the light switch and at the same time positioned himself to shield her from the door.

Spotting the switch, he reached over to turn off the light. “Hell, turning it off barely made a difference. You must have every light in the house on.”

The light he’d turned off took care of the inside entry, but one at the top of the stairs had them in a spotlight. Quin cursed a world that made people afraid of the dark, even when in their own homes.

Aimee’s lips nuzzled along his jaw, and he gave up. It was both too soon and way too late, but it didn’t matter. They were going to take this all the way and deal with the consequences later.

Quin's voice was whiskey rough. “Honey, if we don’t find a bed in the next few seconds, we aren’t gonna care.”

She backed up and looked into his eyes. He closed them, unwilling to let her see his vulnerability.

Taking his hand, she pressed her lips to his palm, then silently turned and led the way up the stairs.

Quin stopped at her bedroom door. Inside, the overhead light and both lamps were turned on. Without taking her gaze from his, Aimee moved around the room, turning them off. When she got to the small Tiffany-style nightlight glowing on the vanity, Quin shook his head. His voice came out low and husky. “Leave that one on. I want to be able to see you, and I want you to see me.”

Leaving the lamp on as he asked, Aimee returned to him. Quin reined in his desire enough to envelop her in a hug. Nothing else, just a hug. As he slowly rocked them back and forth, he searched for the words that had lived in his heart for seventeen years. “Why did you leave me, Aimee?” His voice whispered. “I loved you so much.”

She placed a finger against his lips, stopping him from saying more.

Donna: That’s a great excerpt! thank you for joining me today, Lavada. Readers, just as a reminder, you can read more about Lavada Dee’s stories at http://www.lavadadee.com