When I started writing way back when…I wanted to be just like Danielle Steele. I had read something like 30 books of hers and felt I could write the story she hadn’t written yet – the story I wanted to read. Funny thing about that…I wrote the book, never did anything with it and then Danielle Steele came out with something so similar it scared me. It was like she read my mind. Now before you ask, no I don’t feel like she stole my idea. How could she? I was just some lonely housewife and mother looking for a way to express myself.
Fast forward many years later and I left Danielle behind. I began reading Chick Lit and Romantic Comedies. I found books I really loved. I decided I’d write Chick Lit. I wrote three books. They’re still sitting in a drawer. Turns out I don’t have a first person voice, even though I love writing in it.
I never dreamed of the day I’d get to write about sex. Seven or eight years ago I found a group of women who were doing reviews for eBooks. Most of them were erotic. I joined the group and a new love blossomed. Suddenly I needed to write these types of books. So I penned my first one. Mistletoe Studs. The book stayed in the drawer for almost two years, until I joined my local writers group. They gave me the one thing I lacked – courage to submit a story. I received a contract a few days after subbing it and it saw publication within weeks. I still hold that book dear after all these years.
I’ve been writing sex ever since and while I’m trying to write a straight contemporary I’m finding it harder to do now. I have to retrain my brain to write less sex. For me I know as long as a market exists I’ll always write sex. Not only is it fun – sex sells!
To celebrate my journey I’m giving away a copy of Sex on the Beach to one lucky commenter. I’ll announce the winner on Monday over on my blog: http://amberskyze.blogspot.com
Sex on the Beach
Allie only wanted two weeks of peace and quiet at her friend’s beach house to get her life in perspective. She wasn’t looking for sex, drugs and a kidnapping. But that’s what she gets when she encounters not one but two tasty men.
Tony, her gorgeous next-door neighbor, has a body any woman would want to explore, and Allie crave him licking, teasing and ravishing her body with those strong hands and kissable lips. Little does she know Tony’s on the trail of a drug dealer.
Then there’s Paul, who also wants a piece of Allie…if he can possibly tear her away from Tony.
An Excerpt From: SEX ON THE BEACH
Copyright © AMBER SKYZE, 2011
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
The wind blew wisps of Allie’s long blonde hair back toward the road she’d just traveled. She sped along the California coastline in her yellow convertible Spyder, enjoying the sunrise in the distance. The sun sparkled across the ocean, glimmering orange as it rose. The rays would threaten to scorch her skin later in the day. The weatherman had said the temperatures would reach well into the nineties again.
She pressed her flip-flopped foot harder on the gas pedal. Allie allowed the car to accelerate because she knew no one in their right mind would be on the road at this ungodly hour. Not everyone woke before the crack of dawn. While most were still sleeping soundly in their beds, the air conditioner cooling their skin, Allie was up grocery shopping.
It wasn’t unusual for her to be up and going at four in the morning. She loved those first few hours of the day when life was quiet. She could sip her coffee leisurely. The hustle and bustle came later when she left the house to fight the highway traffic on her way to her job as a marketing executive for a pharmaceutical company.
At least that was her life before she’d lost her job. She punched the steering wheel.
“Fuck,” she cursed to the open wind. While she missed the craziness of her old life she had to admit the last six months were the most stress-free she’d felt in years, right up until she returned to work.
The long hours and stress related to her job contributed in the onslaught of health issues she hadn’t known existed. After three consecutive months with a bout of what she thought was the flu Allie finally sought the advice of her doctor. He put her through numerous rounds of testing and came to the conclusion she suffered from acid reflux and Crohns disease. Both were brought on by stress, food choices and not taking care of her body.
Allie spent five agonizing days in the hospital while her doctor tried to get her disease under control. It was the worst experience in her life. There were times when she thought she’d die and sometimes she silently prayed she would. It was devastating and debilitating, but she swore she wouldn’t let it control her again.
Once Dr. Robinson managed to get the disease under control she looked pointedly at Allie.
“Look, your job is slowly killing you. Your body can’t handle the stress or long hours you’re demanding of it. You need to make some lifestyle changes or I’m just going to see you back here in a few months,” she’d said.
The reality of the doctor’s words was like a knife being twisted in her chest. She didn’t know how to not be on the go 24/7. That was the way she’d lived her life since turning sixteen.
Allie pressed even harder on the gas pedal.
She couldn’t get to the beach house fast enough. The idea of spending two weeks of quiet, soaking up the sun and sand appealed to her on so many levels. When her friend Pam told her she could use her beach house, Allie had immediately jumped on the offer.
The next few weeks would give her time to readjust to being unemployed and hopefully clear her mind. Eventually she’d have to decide what direction she wanted to take with her life. She had enough money saved to get her through six months of unemployment, but Allie didn’t want to totally deplete her savings. It was there as a safety net, nothing more.
Quitting had never been a word Allie thought she’d use, but her boss left her no other choice. She’d had a career as a marketing executive for almost five years before she’d up and resigned.
“Asshole!” She gripped the steering wheel, fighting back the tears stinging her eyes. She refused to cry. She wouldn’t give that shithead the satisfaction of beating her down. She wiped away the drop with the back of her hand.
“Screw you, Marty.”