HOT: Coco Beardmore
NOT: Coco’s calamities
HOT: Mike West’s fantasies
NOT: Mike’s reality
That’s right, Coco Beardmore is sizzling hot and she’s landed in Mike West’s Lap. The problem is Coco’s middle name is chaos! Her driving skills are a real bang--into Mike’s horse trailer, and her sultry seduction will set the room on fire--the kitchen that is.
What’s worse is her Thoroughbreds ability to mimic their owner’s habit of screwing things up. It’s enough to drive a normally calm and collected Mike West to the very edge.
But Mike’s not the only one having problems with women. His father Eric has taken on more than he can chew, and he’s about to get spit out by two women: one that he’s in love with and one that thinks he’s in love with her.
Oh yeah, things are hot around Westwood Thoroughbred Farm… and someone’s about to get burned!
For the past twenty years Cindy has helped her husband raise, train, and race Thoroughbreds at their forty-five acre farm known as Fly-By-Night Stables near Pittsburgh.
During those years Cindy has paid close attention to the characters that hang-out at the back-side of the track. She found the situations and life style most intriguing. In 2005 she sat down at her computer and began a journey into writing about this life that few understand.
Cindy has recently retired from making her living as a professional choreographer. She owned and operated Cindy McDonald’s School of Dance since 1985. She studied at Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre School and with the Pittsburgh Dance Alloy at Carnegie Mellon University to name a few. She has choreographed many musicals and an opera for the Pittsburgh Savoyards.
To find out more about future books of the Unbridled Series, please visit Cindy’s website at: www.cindymcwriter.com
How to contact Cindy McDonald:
My website: www.cindymcwriter.com
I’m a goodreads author: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5264796.Cindy_McDonald
Yep, I’m on twitter. Here’s my handle: @cindymcdonald7
My books, DEADLY.COM and HOT COCO are available on amazon:
The following excerpt is taken from Chapter 5. Coco has invited Mike to her home for dinner after she had accidentally wrecked her Escalade into his horse trailer that afternoon...
While waiting on the steps of Coco’s brown stone townhouse, Mike hoped his evening would be worth the trashed trailer and rather acute case of heartburn that he was anticipating. He cocked his head when he heard what sounded like a large dog growling and barking from behind the lavishly, beveled
front door. He looked around at the meticulously landscaped townhouses with sporty Mercedes, Porsches, and BMW’s parked in the driveways before glancing over his shoulder at his pickup parked next to Coco’s wrecked SUV. When the door finally opened the Cocker Spaniel sprung out to circle his
legs while sniffing, barking, and snarling at him.
“Booger, behave.” Coco looked like forgiveness wrapped in a little black peel-me-off when she appeared in the doorway. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite. Come in, Mike.” She said like a spider coaxing a fly.
She guided him through the foyer into a living room decked-to- the-hilt with stylish, French provincial furnishings. Booger sniffed and nipped at Mike’s legs while following close behind.
Beautiful paintings hung on the walls in ornate frames. Mike knew exactly one thing about artists or artwork: Jackshit. But it was obvious, even to him, that these pieces had come from a gallery, rather than a retail store. The vibrant colors splashed across the canvas were thick, and sweeping, and perhaps
a little angry, that much he could appreciate—kinda.
A large, gilded mirror hung on the wall behind the sofa. Crystal framed photographs of Coco and her father filled the coffee tables. Classy.
“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.” She slipped through the doorway into the kitchen.
Mike buried his hands into the pockets of his Levis and studied an abstract work of art on the wall. What the hell is that supposed to be?
Booger’s growl thinned to a low grouse. His curly ears perked, and he stomped his paws against the white carpet.
“What’s the matter, boy?” Purring cautiously at the spunky spaniel, he patted Booger on the head, and then turned his attention to a photo of Stanley Beardmore, with his arms wrapped around Coco. Booger sprung at him, clamped his little body around Mike’s leg. Wagging his tiny tail, he humped and panted erotically.
Holy shit. Mike’s eyes widened. Shaking his leg frantically, he danced around the room while trying to free himself from the dog’s nirvanas grip. He braced against a table while kicking his leg, but Booger, enjoying the ride, hung on tight.
“Booger, that’s not nice.” Holding two full wine glasses, Coco trotted toward them. After hurriedly setting one of the glasses on the table, she slapped Booger on the top of his head, during which the wine in the glass splashed down Mike’s white shirt. Booger shrunk away from his leg with a yelp and scampered out of the room with his tail-tucked between his legs.
“Oh Mike, I’m sorry!”
Hoping that he wouldn’t only have to envision this butterfingered beauty naked tonight, he took a deep breath. He truly hoped that it would be an evening of pleasure worth the abyss of calamities that seemed to suck her in.
“Quick, take that shirt off, and I’ll soak it in seltzer water.” She fumbled with the buttons until she opened the shirt to reveal his muscled pecks and tight abs. Her fingers fluttered over his shoulders and down his strong arms when she slipped the shirt from his torso. Blushing, she averted her gaze to the red stain on his shirt. She wet her pink, full lips and looked into his eyes. Good God, he’s setting me on fire. Can I make it through dinner?
Smiling, she brushed a wisp of his dark hair away from his brow. “I’ll be right back.”
Listening to her trot up the stairs, he found his thoughts going to Ava’s cat. He hated that cat.
She was an evil little thing. He wasn’t exactly in love with Coco’s Cocker Spaniel. Go figure.
When he spied the glass on the table, he drank down the remaining wine to wet his dry mouth.
He heard her footsteps on the stairs, and she reappeared with a shirt draped over her arm. She held up the over-sized nightshirt, which she helped him slip into. Although it was over-sized for her, it was a quite taut for him.
Stepping back to take a look, she giggled.
He looked down and groaned. The shirt was brown with pink lettering that read: “Chocolate and men, the richer, the better.”
“Well, it’s better than nothing.” She felt how the shirt clung to his firm torso and outlined every detail of his pecs and abs. “Although, nothing would be fine, too.” Her hands traced his shoulders, down his arms, through his fingertips, and then lightly across the crotch of his jeans. “Come sit at the table,”
she whispered. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
Mike was feeling the heat, but he managed to ask, “What are we having?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I can hardly wait.”
She led him into a spacious, gourmet kitchen. The stainless steel appliances gleamed in the bright lights. The white cabinetry swooped around dark, granite counters.
Mike took a seat at the table, which was dressed in white, satin linens and delicate, fine china.
The light from the crystal chandelier glinted off the silverware. Booger scooted under the table to mope.
The kitchen was most impressive, but when he sat at the table with a fresh glass of wine, it wasn’t the cabinetry that he was admiring. Christ, she looks so damned tasty in that tight little rip-it-offme-now dress. He took a big gulp of wine and swallowed hard while trying to keep other hard things under wraps.
Coco carefully placed several pieces of meat into a skillet. It spit and sizzled in the hot oil. She cradled her wine glass in her fingers. “Your shirt should be ready for the dryer after dinner.”
“That’s fine.” He felt the squeeze of the dog latching around his shin again. Sonofabitch. He kicked. The dog yelped. He grinned.
Coco was attracted to this handsome man sitting at her table. She was more aroused by the fact that he didn’t cancel their dinner date after she had smashed his horse trailer. He’s definitely a gentleman cowboy. How sexy is that? Her lips curled at the thought. With a sultry gleam, in her sapphire eyes, she strode toward him.
More than the meat was sizzling.
Mike knew what that look meant. Oh, yeah, no imagination needed. The ballerina is about to do her little dance.
She leaned over him.
While she paused to take in his hazel eyes, he could feel her breath on his face.
“I wanted to cook something fancy,” she whispered, “because it makes me feel fancy,” Her lips
crashed against his. Her tongue searched his mouth.
He ran his fingers through her hair. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her back with passion.
The meat crackled in the skillet.
She ran her hands over his chest and down to his hips. Her fingers found the outline of his erection pressing against his jeans. She groped at his belt.
Kissing her neck, he slipped a sleeve of the dress off her shoulder and nipped at her shoulder.
Tasting her skin, he made his way hungrily down her chest.
Crunch! The force of a body wrapped around his leg broke through the lust. Booger humped and pushed, which made it impossible to ignore.
Damn it. Mike’s eyes popped open. He attempted to kick the dog, but he was fastened on tight and going at it strong.
Abruptly, he became aware that Booger’s love connection to his leg wasn’t the biggest problem at hand. Smoke billowed from the skillet. Flames leapt from the stove. Greasy fireballs ignited dish towels. The curtains were already ablaze.
Shoving Coco onto the table, Mike sprung to his feet.
Her face lit up with intense desire. “Oh Mike, you are naughty,” she gasped.
“Coco, where’s your fire extinguisher?”
“You wanna be a fireman?” Coco was giddy.
Booger was rapt.
Mike was exasperated. “No, your fire extinguisher, where is it?”
Flames shot across the counter top. The smoking skillet spit sparks and fire like a cannon.
He snatched the tablecloth from under Coco and ripped it off the table. China, glassware, silver, crashed and broke against the wall and on the floor. He beat the flames while dragging the horny, Cocker Spaniel, still humping his leg, across the room with him.
“Call the fire department.”
“Wha—” Coco stammered while trying to get a grasp on the situation.
“9-1-1,” Mike shrieked while thrashing the flames, kicking his leg, and cursing her calamity.
If you are as intrigued as I am, you now have a change to win a eBook copy of Hot Coco. Leave a message for Cindy and I will draw a winner on 10 August 2012.