Michelle's Massage: The Encounter Published

"Michelle's Massage: The Encounter," the first volume in my new series is now up and available for purchase!  It's listed at Amazon, Smashwords and AllRomanceEbooks.

I had a lot of fun writing this series, and this first book in particular.  I think it has some of the funniest writing that I've done lately, and I just really fell in love with the characters.  Michelle is a rubenesque, adorably neurotic woman coming off a breakup and having the worst week of her life.  Raul is a to-die-for Hispanic massage therapist who works out the kinks in Michelle's muscles . . . and works a little kink into their massage.  It was a lot of fun to watch these two characters bounce off of each other and begin to form a relationship.

I tried hard to make sure that each of the books in the series is enjoyable both as a standalone title and as parts of a cohesive whole.  It was an interesting, but enjoyable challenge.

I'm looking for reviews, so if you read it and like it, please write me a few words.  I appreciate it!  I'll include below an excerpt for anyone interested.

The promise of the massage on Saturday was the only thing getting Michelle through the week. Ever since she found Brett with that blonde hussy last month, it was all she could do to just get out of bed in the morning, and this week seemed to be actively conspiring to make things worse. On Monday, there was the jerk who ran into her car as it was parked on the street outside her house, busted out a headlight, and left without leaving a number. On Tuesday, she hadn’t met her sales quotas, and so they made her stay after work for an hour and a half doing cold calls until she hit them. On Wednesday, she got pulled over and ticketed about the busted headlight, despite her best efforts to look simultaneously sad and sexy for the policeman. On Thursday the car place told her it’d cost $300 for repairs and that they’d have to keep it over the weekend, which meant that she had to pay for a cab to work on Friday, where she had a surprise performance review where they’d threatened to put her on probation.

But Michelle had her massage scheduled, and she’d go and get to lie in the dark and close her eyes and feel the soothing touch of another person’s hands on her skin, and nothing—absolutely nothing—would be her responsibility.

So, despite everything, Michelle was smiling when she dragged herself out of bed Saturday morning and headed down to the massage parlor. She always went the same place and always had the same therapist. Amanda knew where she was tight and what sorts of strokes she liked. Also, Amanda had seen her naked before, so at least she didn’t have to worry about being judged.

Michelle pushed open the door and walked inside. The air was cool, and the room was darkened by slatted, wooden blinds. A small Zen fountain burbled in a corner, and relaxing flute music was playing. She sighed. Things were already looking up.

Michelle found her way to a soft, leather couch. She sank down into it and closed her eyes. It felt good to sit. And soon Amanda would call her name, and she’d follow her back to the massage room and have a little hour of heaven to counteract all of the hell she’d gone through this past week.

Her eyes closed, Michelle moved her neck slowly back and forth and shrugged her shoulders. Ouch. She was tighter than she’d thought. She needed this. She really, really needed this. She needed the kinks worked out of her shoulders, and she definitely needed that huge knot worked out of her neck so that she could stop feeling like she was looking at the world half sideways.

And also . . . it just sounded nice to be touched. Things had been lonely since the split with Brett. And although Michelle knew that what she really needed was a white-hot fuck, if she couldn’t have that, then at least some platonic, therapeutic, skin-on-skin contact sounded nice.

“Michelle Sorensen?”

A voice rang out, breaking Michelle out of her reverie. But it wasn’t Amanda’s voice. It was a man’s voice, deep and thick and with a trace of a luxurious accent.

Michelle snapped her eyes open. A muscular Hispanic man stood in front of her. He wore dark, tight-fitting scrubs that accented his wide shoulders and broad chest. His skin was a creamy brown, and his arms were large and strong. He had short black hair and a dazzling smile. And, Michelle couldn’t help but notice, he had a tremendous cock. It bulged out against his tight scrub pants, tight enough that she could see the way it hung against his leg, and she almost thought that she could make out the outline of its head.

Michelle blushed and looked up. Why on earth was she looking at his cock? She needed a lay more than she’d realized.

“I’m Michelle,” she said quickly. “But my appointment’s with Amanda.”

“Ah,” the man said. “Amanda is on her honeymoon. I’m filling in.” His voice. It was the sound that dark chocolate infused with chili peppers would make if it could speak. It made her heart race.

“I didn’t know Amanda was engaged,” Michelle responded, wondering if she was as flushed as she felt.

“She eloped,” the man said with a wide smile and a shrug. “I’m Raul.” He extended a hand for Michelle to shake. She took it. The skin was soft and smooth, but the muscles underneath felt strong. She could imagine those hands on her, kneading her muscles and trailing over her skin. No, Michelle. Focus, girl.

“Well, I do really like Amanda,” Michelle hedged. If she got onto the massage table with this man touching her, she’d never be able to sit still. Her nipples would poke through the sheet like drill bits, and she’d probably get wet enough that she’d leak on the table. “Do you know when she’ll be getting back?”

The man smiled. “Two, three months? They’re travelling the world now, backpacking in Europe, sleeping under the stars, sharing a sleeping bag. Very romantic.”

Michelle smiled weakly, finding herself imagining sharing a sleeping bag with Raul.

“You look tense,” said Raul in a voice like a samba. “I don’t think you can wait two months. Come on back. I’ll take care of you.”