Jami Alden
Like so many romance readers, my first romance novel was by Kathleen Woodiwiss - The Flame and the Flower, to be exact. I was thirteen. I spent the next month working my way through her entire back list. Shortly thereafter I discovered Judith McNaught, Johanna Lindsey, Karen Robards, Catherine Coulter, Shirlee Busbee among others, and devoured their lavish historical epics full of overbearing alpha males and the women who brought them to their knees. I was hooked. My high school teachers marveled at my ability to read romance novels under the desk and still score straight A's. I started to imagine myself, living in a cabin in the mountains somewhere, writing romance novels.
It took me quite awhile to pursue my dream. After graduating from Stanford with a degree in English Literature, I worked in a variety of soul sucking admin jobs before I began my career in marketing. It wasn't exactly my dream job, but at least my writing appeared on several web sites and in many software marketing brochures. Unfortunately I wasn't able to fit the phrase "and her loins melted like hot wax" into any of them.
During my stint as the world's surliest receptionist, I took my first stab at writing. The result was a very melodramatic western historical which reads like a bad Elizabeth Lowell rip off. Its currently languishing on my hard drive, forever stuck on page 330.
Then in fall 2001 I had an incredible stroke of luck and got laid off from my marketing job. I decided it was time to stop saying I wanted to be a writer and to actually give it a serious go. Fortunately my husband, a socially well adjusted alpha male, is a very generous patron of the arts.
Four years later, I sold my first book and I'm pretty much living the dream of getting paid to write romance. I don't live in a cabin in the mountains, but I do live in a rural-ish town near San Francisco (hey, we have deer and bunnies in our yard, along with the occasional coyote) with my husband, sons, and two dogs who patiently listen to my dialogue and help me work out plot points. When I'm not writing sexy romance, I enjoy running, reading, yoga and watching Food Network and bad reality TV.
“He smelled like sweat and sex and Sean, a potent combination that made her want to hold him here inside her and never let him go.”
“I wish I could tell you this was all just because I’m desperate and horny, making up for lost time after being locked up.” He slid his palm under the hem of her T-shirt, groaning at the feel of warm, smooth skin. “It would be so much easier if that was all this was.” He cupped a breast and flicked a nipple through the silk of her bra, loving the way it jumped to immediate attention against the pad of his thumb.“There hasn’t been anyone,” he said between kisses. “I haven’t wanted anyone. I’ve been walking around like I’m dead inside and then you show up.” He couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice, angry at his own lack of control. Like she needed anything more on him, but he couldn’t keep himself from spilling his guts. “All of a sudden all I can think about is how you smell, how you might taste.” He sucked her tongue into his mouth for emphasis. “How soft your skin would feel.” He whipped her shirt over her head and slid his hands down the smooth line of her back, down the curve of her waist and hip.”
“(Sean) “Sometimes the system fails. And sometimes you have to break the rules to get what you want.”
“Jesus, you’re beautiful,” he murmured and she felt the warmth of his breath on her face and yes, he was going to kiss her. His mouth came down on hers, hot and fierce. She parted her lips and licked into his mouth, loving the way he shuddered and groaned at the contact.Her response was fast, ferocious, startling in its intensity. One kiss and she was fired up, more turned on than she could ever remember being.”
“Like punch through the brick wall he’d built around himself and give in to the sudden, desperate urges to touch, to taste, to feel. Krista Fucking Slater. Of all the women in the world, why was she the only one who managed to remind him he was still alive in a way no one had been able to in three long years?”
“(Sean) "The therapist calls it cleithrophobia.”“That sounds like a fear of something else,” Krista snorted before she could stop herself. She bit her lip, as shame washed through her.Sean turned, his startled laughter sounding rusty as it erupted from his chest. “No, I’m definitely not scared of that.”
“She couldn’t deny him anything. She reached behind her and unhooked the bra, leaving breasts completely bare to his stroking hands.Her mouth sought his, licking, sucking, leaning into his touch as she tried to tell him without words how much she wanted him, needed him. How desperate she was for his touch, how she’d needed him, needed this, all along and hadn’t even realized it.”
“[Jack] “Don’t kid yourself for a f#cking second that I don’t feel anything for you.”Her lips parted in shock, but before she could get a word out, he covered them with his own. She made a high, startled sound in the back of her throat.Pleasure, red, blinding, exploded through him at the first taste. Sweet, spicy, better than all his fevered imaginings. Her lips soft and giving against him, her tongue delicious and moist as he sucked it into his mouth.”