When I sit down to write, I have a definite story in mind, from beginning to end. As a reader, I like books that feature characters I can get invested in, plots that are smart and unpredictable. As a writer, I find that I feel the same way. Which is why, although I’ve written a novella, I prefer to write longer stories that give me the opportunity to fully explore my characters and their lives.
Rannigan’s Redemption is an epic, three-novel erotic romance that spans nearly a decade in the lives of the main characters, Michael Rannigan and Maggie Flynn. Their relationship is complicated, and ultimately goes in a surprising direction. But along the way, we get to know who they are as people. We feel their emotions as we share their journey.
This snippet is from Resisting Risk, the first book of the trilogy.
“Let’s go,” Gwen said, when the band finished playing. Michael mentally rolled his eyes. She was being a pain tonight. Next time she was in town, he would probably have other plans. He’d thought to stop by Maggie’s table again to say goodbye but by then she was busy opening gifts so he’d just followed Gwen out the door. It occurred to him that it was odd that he’d even thought about speaking to her again. Probably too much bourbon, he thought, shaking his head.
They caught a cab back to the Upper East Side where he lived. “I want to go to Bemelmans,” Gwen said as the cab neared his neighborhood. Of course you do, he thought. All he wanted to do was go home and get laid.
“Drop us at the Carlyle, please,” he said to the driver. By the time he’d paid for the cab, Gwen was already inside the bar. When he caught up with her he realized why they’d had to stop here. A group of her friends was ensconced in a corner banquette. She’d wanted to show him off.
There is definitely no next time with Gwen, he thought to himself, but he plastered on his PR smile. “Hello, ladies,” he charmed, “apparently we’re late.” Gwen beamed as her friends gave her envious looks. He ordered a round for the table and chatted amiably with everyone for a while. During a lull in the conversation while the pianist played a song the table had requested, he leaned into Gwen. “Are you ready to go now?”
“Yes, we can go,” she said, running her hand up the inside of his leg and giving him a coy look.
They quickly said their goodbyes and left, walking the three blocks to his apartment building on 79th. As they rode the elevator to the 21st floor, Gwen kept her eyes on the numbers over the door, but she reached over to stroke the front of his pants where his erection was growing harder.
Michael unlocked the door to his apartment and let her in, stopping to drop his keys in the bowl on the foyer table. He took off his jacket and untied his tie. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked on his way to get his own. He paused to put the television on a sports channel.
“I’ll have champagne,” she said, with a trace of pout in her voice.
He rolled his eyes. “No champagne, can I get you some chardonnay instead?”
“I suppose,” she simpered. He grabbed a Heineken for himself.
When he returned to the living room she had kicked off her shoes and was relaxing on the tan oversized leather sectional that faced the television and the floor-to-ceiling wall of windows beyond, opening to his solarium on the terrace. The city lights twinkled like a sparkling carpet below them. This was why he, a happily single man, had bought a four-bedroom apartment. It had the best view in the entire building. He handed Gwen her wine and sank down beside her to sip his beer and watch tv, picking up the remote to turn up the volume.
“Oh, baby, are you sure you want to watch silly old sports?” she asked him. “I had something else in mind.” She moved to kneel in front of him and undid his belt and then his fly.
He smiled down at her. “Are they mutually exclusive?” he asked, grinning and arching his eyebrow. She winked up at him and pulled back the waistband of his boxer briefs, freeing his impressive erection. He groaned and rested his head against the back of the sofa with his eyes closed as she took him in her mouth. In spite of being a demanding princess, Gwen was great at giving head. She worked him with her tongue and slid her lips up and down his shaft, sucking like a Dyson.
He was considering trying to hold off coming, make it last longer, when he heard his phone blip, indicating an email. Glancing down beside him on the sofa, he saw that the message was from Maggie. Michael picked up the phone and keyed in his pass code. Gwen immediately stopped what she was doing.
“Oh, hell no, you are not answering a message in the middle of a blowjob!” she exclaimed.
“I’m just holding off, baby, we don’t want this over so fast,” he said. “I want to fuck you. Go to the bedroom and get ready. I’ll be right there.” He gave her a quick kiss, and she headed to the bedroom, slightly mollified.
Checking the time he saw that it was 2:16. Maggie sent him a message after two in the morning? He was definitely intrigued.
Dear Mr. Rannigan, I wanted to say thank you for the champagne you sent to my friends and me last night. It was completely unnecessary and extremely thoughtful. I’m excited about your job offer. I will definitely call your office tomorrow to set up an appointment. Again, thank you so much. I look forward to working with you. Sincerely, Maggie Flynn
A smile curled his lips as he reread the message. So formal and professional. Nothing at all to indicate what her eyes completely gave away. She probably assumed he’d read it in the morning. He wanted to respond now.
Dear Ms. Flynn, you are most welcome for the champagne. I felt badly that I crashed your birthday celebration with all your friends. Champagne seemed the least I could do. I am excited at the prospect of having a brilliant young legal mind working on our team. So please do call and schedule that appointment. And, if we’re to be working together, I’ll have to insist that we drop the formalities. We’ll be just Michael and Maggie. It will be simpler that way, don’t you think? And now that it’s actually tomorrow, I’ll wish you a very Happy Birthday. Go to sleep, Maggie. I’ll see you next week. Sincerely, just Michael
Pandora Spocks 