Dawn Atkins - Very Truly Sexy

Dancing was sexual, of course—a civilized mating ritual….

But Beth had never felt it as vividly as she did swaying in AJ’s arms, with the jazz heat of the band making her body throb. The sax groaned like sex cries, the drums pulsed in a get-some heartbeat. The congas came after her, demanding satisfaction now. She was surprised people just didn’t give up all pretense and go for it on the floor.

There was something so sexy about a man who could dance. It meant he was in touch with his body, with her body.

And the way AJ was moving now, promising all kinds of sensual delights, she could hardly wait to hit the sheets.

Dear Reader,

I don’t know about you, but I’m a mess of contradictions. On all those personality/style thingies, I am split down the middle. One minute I’m semioutrageous; the next I’m desperate to melt into the wallboard.

So I really can relate to Beth—the shy, repressed writer trying to be an out-there sex columnist. Then she meets a man who accidentally turns into two people himself—her lover and her boss.

These two truly need each other to be whole. AJ helps Beth blend her contradictions, and Beth shows AJ the warm guy behind the distant loner he thinks he is. She’s the bridge over the moat guarding his heart.

Needless to say, this was a powerful story to write. I hope their story touches your heart. I’d be thrilled to hear from you. Write me at dawn@dawnatkins.com or pop over to my Web site, www.dawnatkins.com.

My very best to you,

Dawn Atkins

P.S. AJ is perfectly pictured on the cover by Greg Miller, the winner of the Blaze Cover Model Contest. I am honored to have this gorgeous guy grace my book.

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Dear Reader,

Take a good long look at the man on our cover this month. Isn’t he fabulously sexy? His name is Greg Miller, and he’s the winner of our exciting Blaze Cover Model Contest. He and his wife won the grand prize of a romantic weekend at the Park Plaza hotel in New York City.

Last year we asked you, our readers, to tell us why your guy should be on the front cover of a Blaze novel. You responded with letters, poems, photos and e-mails about why the man in your life is a hero. And why he’s also hot, romantic and sexy…

We had so many great men to choose from, it was difficult. But in the end we judged that Greg was the perfect man to appear on the cover of Very Truly Sexy by Dawn Atkins. I think you’ll agree he fits the story well!

Thanks to everyone who entered our contest. And thanks for making Blaze such a hot series favorite!

Cheers!

Birgit Davis-Todd

Executive Editor

Blaze

To David, for loving the many faces of me

And to my best friend Gwen…you know why

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

“OKAY, SARA, DESCRIBE the first time you were intimate with Rick. In detail, please. No twitch is too tiny, no moan too minor.”

Beth Samuels adjusted her steno pad on her lap, clicked on the mini-recorder she used to back up her note-taking, then leaned back to listen, her stomach jumpy with tension. Her Chinese Crested hairless dog Spud, as relaxed as Beth was nervous, shifted his barrel body against her hip, cozying up for a snooze.

“Were intimate?” Sara teased. “You mean had sex, Beth. If you’re going to write about it, you’re going to have to say it.” Sara dipped an Oreo into the whipped cream garnish Beth had added to the circle of cookies for their snack-and-chat.

“I’m adjusting, okay? I said twitch and moan. What do you want?”

“More than that, sweetie.”

Beth clicked off the recorder, dismayed by the challenge she faced. She had to go from easy-breezy entertainment writer to nitty-gritty sex columnist practically overnight. Well, by the next magazine deadline anyway. She wasn’t that experienced at having sex, let alone writing about it. That was where her sexually accomplished friend Sara came in. If she would only cooperate.

“I’ll make it work, don’t worry,” Beth said firmly. She would not let her readers down. She cherished her “On the Town” column, where, as her alter ego, E.M. “Em” Samuels, she scoped out entertainment venues, analyzing every nuance with as fresh a wit and focus on detail as she could manage. The column was her window on the world and it made her feel valuable and very alive. The money mattered, too, but not as much as the joy of the work.

“So, about Rick and that first time,” she said, resituating herself, making Spud groan in his sleep. She snapped on the recorder again. “Was it on your first date? Why or why not? Did he suggest it, or you? Did you make out at length or did it just happen?”

“You mean, did clothes whip away, condoms appear and bodies magically meld?” Sara smiled. She’d told Beth more than once she was too dreamy about these things. “Sex doesn’t have to be pretty to be good.” She dipped an Oreo into the Grand Marnier frappé Beth had concocted as part of the evening’s refreshments, then gestured with it. “People jiggle and wobble.”

Beth lunged forward with a napkin to catch Sara’s flying drips.

“Zippers snag,” Sara continued. “Condoms fly across the bed. Bodies squeak and thrusts get off-tempo. But if you have the right attitude, everybody has a good time.” She pushed the soggy snack into her mouth with a triumphant finger.

The drip danger gone, Beth relaxed against the sofa. “I just don’t like the awkward parts.”

“What you didn’t like was sex with Blaine.”

“Our sex was okay.”

“Okay and sex should never be in the same sentence.”

Sara hadn’t made a secret of disliking Blaine, though an I-told-you-so had never crossed her lips. Sara was fiercely opinionated, but a loyal friend.

“You have to take a different approach, Bethie, if you’re going to make this work. Less lace, limos and gimlets and more ‘Ten Tips for Better Blow Jobs.’”

“I’m not writing for Cosmo,” she said, distress shooting through her. “It’s still Phoenix Rising magazine. I’m just going to spice up the entertainment reviews with a little sex.”

Though that wouldn’t be as easy as it sounded. Or as easy as her managing editor, Will Connell, thought it would be. Just take your notepad in for the post-date entertainment, he’d said to reassure her. What’s the problem?

The problem was that, for her, there was no post-date entertainment, though she wouldn’t share that fact with Will, who treated her like a treasured niece. She was as likely to take Sara with her to scope out new bars, restaurants and clubs, as to take a man. She hadn’t actually had a date since Blaine left, nearly a year ago. Maybe she was still recovering. Or maybe dating just seemed like too much trouble.