A Video You Can Dance To

Laura Breck

I love writing, but I also love creating video book trailers for my books. This is one of my favorites. I love the music, it makes me want to get up and dance. And the scenery isn't too bad, either! Jimmy Thomas is on my cover, and there's also another very sexy picture of him in the video. The photos of him with his ponytail are exactly what I pictured my hero, Sixto, to look like. Here's the video. Let me know what you think. Did you have to get up and dance? ;-)





Book Blurb: A Seduction as Overpowering as a Hurricane

When her twin sister dies, Bree Prentis moves from Seattle to Miami to inherit a shadowy business, an upscale house, and her sister’s sexy Cuban business partner and housemate, Sixto Doria. She adjusts to the vivid culture of Miami, but constantly bumping into Sixto is straining her hands-off vow. Bree is looking for a man to give her a happily ever after, and Sixto has sworn off relationships. He knows it’s wrong to want her, but she makes him forget why he's not right for her, makes him crave her natural honesty and wholesome beauty.

When he teaches her to dance the Salsa Cubana, then suggests she spend the night in his bed, Bree is shocked—and tempted. In the midst of a hurricane, Bree surrenders to her reckless desire and makes love with Sixto. Could Bree be the one Sixto's been waiting for? If she finds out he’s hiding a nasty truth from her—their company is a façade for a semi-legal business—she will shut it down, and Sixto will lose the income his family depends on. And more frightening for Sixto, he would lose Bree.

When she researches their company’s outrageous revenue, she sees a pattern of untruths leading back to Sixto. The word ‘love’ enters their relationship, and she prays his duplicity is all a misunderstanding, and his seduction is not merely a distraction to keep her from discovering the truth.

Excerpt:

She brought the phone back to the living room. Sixto stood at the stove, cooking again.

"Is it supper already?" She sat on a stool at the counter.

He shrugged. "I eat a lot.

"You're a big guy."

His shoulders started to shake. "Yesterday I was macho. Today I'm a big guy."

"Are you laughing at my lack of subtlety?" She did have a habit of blurting things out.

He turned and smiled. "You just can't help flirting, can you?"

"I…" Was she flirting? Evidently he thought she was.

Had he been flirting with her this morning? All his compliments about how she'd make a great girlfriend. Was she just too naïve to catch his meaning? He reached into the refrigerator and she stared at his fine butt. When he turned and caught her, he gave her a wink.

The gesture warmed her blood and flooded her brain with too many visuals of her in Sixto's arms—something that she just couldn't let happen.

Okay, they were both guilty of making flirty comments and it had to stop before things went too far. She wasn't interested in a physical relationship without a commitment, and he'd just admitted that he only tended bar for the "social benefits." Sexually, he was way out of her league.

It was time to tackle the issue head on. "Sixto, we've been dancing around it since yesterday, but…"

He looked over his shoulder at her. "What?"

"We both know our boundaries, right?"

He closed the fridge and went back to the stove.

She smelled onion, garlic, peppers, and some fantastic spices. Over the sound of her stomach complaining hungrily, she heard him mumble, "Yeah."

She waited, but he didn't say more. "I mean, we live in the same house and you and my sister were…" She searched furiously for the right word.

"Roommates." He turned toward her. "We were roommates. Nothing more." He stalked toward the counter where she sat.

Bree braced her hands on the counter, expecting some kind of disclosure. Sixto squatted down on the other side of the counter and opened the cabinet underneath. He wasn't going to say any more?

She stood on the barstool's foot rail and leaned across the counter, looking down at the top of his head as he rooted through the contents of the cabinet. "You never dated? Like boyfriend/girlfriend?"

He looked up at her. "I know the meaning of the term dating, thank you." He went back to rummaging. "And no, we didn't click that way."

Maybe she shouldn't ask what kind of clicking they did do. But she was perversely curious. "So, what kind—"

He pulled out a small kitchen tool—a mystery item to her—stood and slammed the cabinet door shut all in one motion.

Before she could pull herself off the counter, he leaned down close to her face and annunciated, "Just. Roommates." He stared into her eyes for a few provocative seconds before he turned and walked to the stove.

That look. He melted her inside with just his sexy brown eyes. She slithered back into her chair, flustered speechless, staring at his broad back.

~ ~ ~ ~

Hope you enjoyed the video!

Laura

~Smart Women ~Sexy Men ~Seductive Romance

LauraBreck.com

Dancing in a Hurricane is available in digital format at Amazon and in paperback at Createspace

New Release - Dancing in a Hurricane

I love it when a new book comes out. It gives me a chance to show off my beautiful cover art. This one features a very steamy picture of Jimmy Thomas. 

Book Blurb: A Seduction as Overpowering as a Hurricane

When her twin sister dies, Bree Prentis moves from Seattle to Miami to inherit a shadowy business, an upscale house, and her sister’s sexy Cuban business partner and housemate, Sixto Doria. She adjusts to the vivid culture of Miami, but constantly bumping into Sixto is straining her hands-off vow. Bree is looking for a man to give her a happily ever after, and Sixto has sworn off relationships. He knows it’s wrong to want her, but she makes him forget why he's not right for her, makes him crave her natural honesty and wholesome beauty.

When he teaches her to dance the Salsa Cubana, then suggests she spend the night in his bed, Bree is shocked—and tempted. In the midst of a hurricane, Bree surrenders to her reckless desire and makes love with Sixto. Could Bree be the one Sixto's been waiting for? If she finds out he’s hiding a nasty truth from her—their company is a façade for a semi-legal business—she will shut it down, and Sixto will lose the income his family depends on. And more frightening for Sixto, he would lose Bree.

When she researches their company’s outrageous revenue, she sees a pattern of untruths leading back to Sixto. The word ‘love’ enters their relationship, and she prays his duplicity is all a misunderstanding, and his seduction is not merely a distraction to keep her from discovering the truth.

~ ~ ~ ~

Picture it, Miami, Florida, a hot, seductive night. Bree and Marisa are at the nightclub where Sixto works as a bartender. Since she's met him, she's tried hard to keep her distance. He's sexy, tempting, and too much for her to handle.

Excerpt: James turned to Sixto. "Your roommate here doesn't think she can dance."

Sixto glanced at Bree. "Anyone can dance."

She couldn't read his mood, but he seemed closed in, somehow.

Marisa and Rico came back to the bar, breathless. She asked Bree, "Why aren't you out there?"

She made a face. "Too fast for a first-timer."

"No it's not." Marisa eased onto her stool. "Sixto, take her out there. Show her how to Salsa Cubana."

He reached down into the beer cooler and opened a fresh one for Rico. "Too busy."

"Busy?" James laughed. "It's dead in here, bro. Go on, I can handle it."

Bree caught Sixto shooting a meaningful look at Rico. Great, not only were Marisa and Rico conspiring, now Sixto and Rico had secrets, too. She shook her head. "I'd rather watch. Thanks anyway, Sixto."

Marisa scowled at her brother. "You leave James alone at the bar all the time to dance with the chicas."

Sixto sighed and stalked away.

Bree released her pent-up breath and took a sip of wine. That was uncomfortable.

Sixto appeared on her side of the bar, right in front of her, his hand out. "Dance?"

Bree considered saying no, but would that give everyone the idea that she was avoiding him? That there was something going on between them?

She set down her glass and put her hand in his. His big, warm hand. The tingling sensation started in her palm and raced up her arm, spiraling through her to end low in her belly.

He led her to the floor. He stood stiffly, put his hand on her waist, and took her other hand in his. The other couples pressed against each other and she waited, breathlessly, for the crush of his body to hers. It didn't come.

He danced slowly, their hips a foot apart. His face seemed pinched, his eyes unreadable. She followed his lead, he told her when to step a different way, or turn under his arm. She forced herself to forget that where he held her hand, her palm warmed at his touch. She tried to ignore where his palm pressed hot and firm against her hip through the thin fabric of her dress. Her hand on his muscular bicep felt every sexy flex of each tempting muscle in his arm. She made herself forget that, too.

In less than a minute, the song ended and she stepped away from him.

They dropped their arms, and Bree sucked in air. Without his touch on her skin, her heart slowed from its manic race, and the heat drained from her cheeks. The next song started. A slower, song with a tantalizing rhythm.

She looked at him, his face looked fierce, his eyes severe.

"One more?" he grumbled.

He wanted her to say no, wanted her to run from him and be her usual cautious, conservative self. Well, she'd had enough wine tonight that her backbone was right where it should be. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of saying no. She nodded and stepped closer to him.

A muscle in his jaw worked for a moment, as if he considered walking away. Taking her hand in his, he put his other palm on her waist. He taught her the steps. They were easier than the last dance and she didn't have to concentrate as hard. The song grew more intense, the primal beat stirred her soul, made her warm deep inside, made her feel sexy. She watched other women gyrating their hips and she let her body move to the rhythm, taking away her inhibitions.

"Goddamnit, Bree." His eyes burned with passion. "What the hell are you doing to me?" He stared into her eyes, put his hand on her lower back, and pulled her tight against him. Pausing for a moment, he groaned and began moving again, sensually, demanding her response.

She gasped, his hard body pressed along her soft one. Breasts, stomach, thighs. A mudslide of sexual awareness covered her, tingled in her nerve endings. He moved his hips the same way she was grinding and she felt every inch of his hardness against her stomach.

She told herself to move away, but it was too intoxicating for her body to ignore. He spun them to the middle of the floor, away from the prying eyes at the bar. His breath caressed her face, hot and fast. He stared down at her, her gaze collided with his.

"You shouldn't be in my arms." He tightened his hold on her. "Next time I ask you to dance," he said between clenched teeth, "say no."

~ ~ ~ ~

¡Muy Caliente! Hope you like the book!
Laura
LauraBreck.com
Dancing in a Hurricane is available at Amazon

Self Esteem shot itself in the foot today.

Self-Esteem is the feeling of well-being when thinking about yourself. It’s when you get kudos for your writing, or creating a masterpiece of some kind. It’s a low feeling when you think you are nothing until someone thinks you’re something and tells you so.

I’ve always had low self-esteem. That changed once my first book was accepted for publication. It was the biggest boost I’ve ever had in my life. It was a Readers Choice Best Seller for the first month and stayed in the top ten for many months after release. When the next two books were accepted, it was the Snoopy Dance of Joy on the ceiling for a few days. Someone actually enjoyed reading something I wrote. How wonderful!

Over the following years, I had small injections of esteem booster when each of my manuscripts were accepted for publication. I was feeling pretty good about myself.

Then the other shoe fell. I registered for college. Yep, at the age of fifty-three, I decided to take a few college classes. I didn’t have a job so I needed something to get me up in the morning. Why not college? I always wanted to go to college. My daughter is in college. So, I registered in the classes she’s taking. I’ve always said there is no such thing as wasted learning.

Church Finance and Bookkeeping isn’t bad. I’ve taken bookkeeping before, back in the dark ages. The class teaches how to handle the accounting for a non-profit organization. I could use a refresher course and can always use bookkeeping skills since I do have a business. This class had me nervous the first few days but I settled in to the work and now it’s a lot of fun trying to keep up with classmates that could be my children.

English Composition, on the other hand, is where the “self-esteem shot its self in the foot” comes in. Holy cow! I have seven published books and now I’ve found out that I don’t know how to write! Well, not according to the text book, anyway. I am now learning the mechanics of writing and the steps to writing a great narrative. I have kept up with the kids but I’m wondering how I was ever published. I guess I must have done something right.

Self-esteem is taking her lumps but I’ve convinced myself that I will be a better writer for taking the class. Of course, I’m sure my editors will appreciate me learning how to make their job easier, too.

Cole Jackson knew all about low self-esteem. After being orphaned by men who didn’t understand the love his white father had for his Pauite mother, Cole was an outcast from the inhabitants of the town. He got a boost when he received a simple smile and some attention from Shyanne Bennett.
_____________________________

A shadow grew on the kickboard, and drew Cole's attention from his meditation.

"What's up, Chief?" Dex grinned at Cole, displaying a row of perfect teeth. His platinum hair reflected the sunlight like a halo around his head. His cronies, three idiots that Dex couldn't take a breath without their applauding his success, surrounded him. Each held their hands solemnly behind their backs.

Cole ignored them, his gaze caught by that blonde girl, Shyanne Bennett, that he'd been watching for the last four months. It was the highlight of his trips to town. She sat across the street in a wagon with one of her friends while her father tended to some business or other. Shyanne made it easy to forget that there was a horse's arse standing beside him trying to make his day worse than it already started. He'd focus on the good, and ignore the bad. He'd become good at that throughout the years.

"I'm talking to you, In-jun."

Cole concentrated on Shyanne. Dex turned, followed his line of sight and laughed.

"You've got no chance with that one. She's way out of your reach."

Cole tossed the apple core into the street. His eyes remained on the girl. He wished the idiot would go away while he enjoyed the view. She was pretty when she laughed, her blonde hair bobbing around her shoulders and down her back in soft curls. He wondered what color her eyes were.

At that moment, she noticed him. She stopped talking, her gaze locked with his, and a smile curved her mouth. Cole would remember that smile for the rest of his life. It was one of the few moments in his life when he felt acceptance. No one could take memories away from him so he held on to the special ones like a miser held on to his gold.

Dex kicked the foreleg of Cole's horse. The wagon lurched as the horse cried out. Cole leapt to the ground, his boots accenting his landing with a plume of dust. He stood face to face with Dex.

Dex grinned. "Well, I finally got through to him. You can take your eyes off the girl. If anyone gets that one, it'll be me."
"We'll see," Cole challenged, his glare drilled into Dex's eyes. They stood equal in height but Dex had quite a few pounds over Cole.

"He can talk. I didn't think he spoke English." The cronies laughed. Dex's grin melted to a smug frown. "There's nothing to see."

Cole glanced past Dex at the girl. She stood on the raised sidewalk now, and watched the exchange along with a few other people. Cole could toss this fool to the ground but it would only get him reprimanded by Sheriff Olsen. That would either impress Shyanne or she'd never speak to him because of it. Dexter Heims wasn't worth the trouble.

"Right." Cole tried to step around Dex with the intent of loading the rest of his supplies. Dex grabbed a handful of Cole's jacket, and shoved his back against the buckboard.

"I didn't tell you to go yet." As the fool stepped back, his cronies fanned out beside him. Dex turned his back to Cole for a moment, taking something from one of the others.

"What ever." Cole hooked his thumbs in his back pockets, cocked his head in annoyance, eyes on the building across the side street. A few others had gathered behind the idiots. Great. Cole smirked as he waited.

Dex turned back to Cole. "You remember General Custer? That run in they had up in Montana territory?"

Cole glared at Dex. "Last year. What about it?"

"Did it look like this?" In a synchronized attack, all four of the boys pelted Cole with balls of mud. Cole didn't flinch as the globs thudded against the wagon and the stacked supplies, startling the horse, and splattering him. He didn't take his eyes from the grin on Dex's face.

Cole smirked. "If you had half a brain, you'd remember that the other blonde horse's ass lost that battle. The Indians won." Cole headed toward the supplies, undeterred by the show of stupidity. "But you're not long on brains, are you."

Dex puzzled for a moment. He glanced around and laughed, the others following his lead, as usual. Cole continued his task as Dex and his band moved off down the street. Cole worked, his head held high as he turned his back to the laughter. As he hefted another bag of seed, he chanced a glance into Shyanne's kind blue eyes as she strolled past him into the mercantile. At least she wasn't laughing. Another memory he could keep.
_______________________________________________

In celebration of Valentine’s Day, Shyanne’s Secret is on sale this month at Whiskey Creek Press. See how Cole handles his self-esteem issues and how I handled my writing ability.

Cheers!
Jena
http://jenagalifany.bravehost.com