The hollow sound of a fog horn echoes through the gathering mist. It is midnight and but for the wash of waves against the shore, the waterfront is quiet.
“Are you sure this is the right yacht?” Lyn adjusts her British sailor outfit. “Looks more like a cruise liner than a yacht!”
Mary slaps on a white cap. Her dark red blazer with the cute emblem on the front stretches across her opulent chest. “The Resurrection! Yep! This is the one!”
Mary slaps on a white cap. Her dark red blazer with the cute emblem on the front stretches across her opulent chest. “The Resurrection! Yep! This is the one!”
Dressed in a white sailing outfit, Sharon’s bubble butt wiggles as she walks up the boarding plank. “Sarah said the party is on A deck, near the port side.”
Lights blaze from the waiting ship, lending an air of carnival to the scene.
Cuddles, Nibby and Hampy scurry behind.
“A rat on board,” a male voice calls out!
“No! No rat!” Sharon waves an airy arm at the captain. “They’re all our pets. Totally nondestructive.”
Mary cups her mouth and shouts loud enough for the whole ship to hear. “We’re looking for the party.”
The captain leans over the rail of the poop deck. “What party?”
Patsy pulls out her notebook and studies it. “I think it’s the rock band, Black Phoenix for their Resurrection Tour.”
“Black Phoenix !” Mary shouts again, the sheer volume causing her chest to jiggle. “For their Resurrection Tour.”
A giant wave causes the ship to buck and tilt. Sharon slips and falls, sliding along the deck on her bubble butt.
“Man overboard.” Patsy shrieks as she dives for Sharon ’s hand, catching her just before she goes over the side. The huge biceps flex!
Lyn stumbles over her own feet as she races to help. She wipes her face. “Whew! That was close.”
Oliver, dressed in a red blazer somewhat like Mary’s, helps Sharon to her feet, placing a light kiss on her hand.
They saunter around the ship, amazed by the size and grandeur. Rock music blares over the loudspeaker.
“The ship is sailing.” Sarah’s voice trills. “And the party is rocking!”
They feel the motion as the yacht sets out to sea. A door swings open and out comes Sarah in very revealing attire, black mesh stockings, leather bustier covered with silver studs and thigh high black boots.
The women gape in surprise. Suffice to say Lyn, Sharon, Mary and Patsy are overdressed and overwhelmed.
“You ladies need to get comfortable!” Sarah cracks a whip and waves them in to the ultra-riche interior.
Strobe lights flash. Dancers gyrate on the floor in skimpy outfits.
“Is this a rave party?” Sharon shouts over the din.
The hard rock music stops for just a moment as the women enter the huge room.
“Aye, my lovelies,” the lead singer calls out. “Grab a Fireball or a dark lager – we’ve got all kinds!”
Sarah laughs. “It’s 141 proof rum, Dekuyper, and Hot Damn 100 Proof Cinnamon Schnapps. I don’t think you’ll need more than one.”
A hulking male grabs Mary and whisks her away. Lyn is caught and whirled, spinning like flames in the center of the dance floor.
Oliver protects Sharon, leading her and Patsy to the buffet table laden with mounds of roast beef, buckets of fish and chips, Yorkshire Pudding, and layers upon layers of red velvet cake.
“It’s a hot night!” Sarah struts across the floor. “There’s a whole stack of leather bustiers and black fishnet stockings behind the left door.” She points. “Go get comfortable.”
“Get comfortable?” Sharon ’s eyes bug. “I couldn’t get my butt into one of those outfits.”
Mary whirls by. “Come on you two, the water’s great!”
“Yes,” Sarah’s voice comes over the loudspeaker. “The water’s great!”
Welcome to Sarah's Celebration of her book 'After Midnight'. Don't forget to leave a comment to be in the running for a download of her book.
AFTER MIDNIGHT
(HEAT LEVEL: Hot)
BLURB:
(HEAT LEVEL: Hot)
BLURB:
Thirteen years—that's how long Isabeau Montgomery has been living a lie. After an automobile accident took her mother's life, Izzy hid herself away, surviving the only way she knew how. Now she is happy in her carefully reconstructed life. That is until he walks through the door of her bar...
Black Phoenix singer/front man Noah Clark came to Long Island City with a goal—one that doesn't include an instant, electric attraction to the dark-haired beauty behind the bar. Coaxing her into his bed won't be easy, but he can't get her pale, haunted eyes nor her skill on the piano out of his head.
Can Noah help Isabeau overcome the past? Or will her need to protect her secret force her back into hiding and destroy their chance at happiness?
Black Phoenix singer/front man Noah Clark came to Long Island City with a goal—one that doesn't include an instant, electric attraction to the dark-haired beauty behind the bar. Coaxing her into his bed won't be easy, but he can't get her pale, haunted eyes nor her skill on the piano out of his head.
Can Noah help Isabeau overcome the past? Or will her need to protect her secret force her back into hiding and destroy their chance at happiness?
EXCERPT:
“It’s not supposed to be just about the finale. It’s about the journey. It’s all about touch, Isabeau. Soft caresses. Slow, deep, wet kisses. Why would you settle for anything else?” Her tongue darted out and wet her lips, and Noah wondered what she’d do if he leaned in right now and showed her what he meant.“Maybe you haven’t taken a good look at me?”
“I’m looking at you now.” He cupped her face with one hand, traced his thumb along the curve of her jaw. Her skin was warm and soft as silk beneath his.
“Noah.” His name crossed her lips, a husky rasp barely audible over the street noise. She reached up and wrapped her hand around his.
She had a mouth that begged to be kissed. A mouth meant for pleasure. How was it she didn’t realize her own appeal? He traced his thumb over the palm of her hand. Satisfaction welled inside him when she trembled. “You don’t have to settle, Isabeau.”
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As a young girl, Sarah Grimm always had a story to tell. At times they were funny, other times scary, but they were always happily-ever-after. Sarah lives in West Michigan with her husband, two sons and three miniature schnauzers
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Website: http://www.sarahgrimm.com