Please welcome the talented Fran Lee!
Lia: Wonderful to have you, Fran! What is your favorite thing about being a romance writer?
: I would have to say that being a romance writer allows me the freedom to indulge not only my imagination, but my libido! LOL! What I would never dream of doing with a complete stranger, my heroines can indulge in with relish. Where my inhibitions would tell me “No, way, lady”, my heroines can step beyond the limitations of MY sensibilities and seek what they need and want. Where I would balk at baring my necessaries to the world, my heroines can wander through my books in minimal clothing (or none) and feel comfortable. I can write my deepest fantasies into a novel and not feel the least bit embarrassed…because it’s a book? Right? Besides…if the heroine goes a little bit crazy over a guy on first sight, I can assure the reader and the heroine that the hero will reciprocate in a most satisfying manner.
Lia: Love that answer! Living vicariously through our heroines is definitely a perk to writing romance, for sure. Is there anything special you do to get “in the mood” before writing a sex scene?
Fran: Absolutely not. I am in the mood all the time! 🙂 Seriously, I can find myself writing the hottest, steamiest scenes at the drop of a hat…or panties…whatever. Years ago, I would have to find a hidey hole somewhere with no distractions, because the nature of my writing was such that if my young kids got hold of a page or two, they would be shocked at what Mommy was writing. LOL! Now? Heck…my kids are fighting to read the stuff.
Lia: I can relate to having to hide the hot stuff from this kiddos. LOL! What is the hottest scene you ever wrote?
Fran: Hmmm…I’d say it’s a bit of a toss-up. The heat of a scene doesn’t necessarily come from the sex act itself, or the descriptive words employed in what the h/h are doing, but from the build up and the thoughts that flit in and out of their minds during the action. For instance, I have a scene where the heroine is trapped in the back room of the bookstore with the hero, who is big, and sexy and scary. This is just part of it….
He had entered the bookstore at the rear of a milling crowd and picked up a book from an open carton by the counter. He paid for his book, handing over twenty dollars to an older man who took his money and put the book into a bag without even glancing at him. He’d covertly watched from the shadows of a narrow aisle between tall bookshelves as that long line of women, all eager to meet their beloved author, patiently waited.
He’d watched the way she responded to her fans—that dimpled, sexy little grin, the flash of brilliant green eyes. With every laugh, his groin had tightened like it had a damn mind of its own. With every flick of her tongue over those lush lips, he had found his breath catching in his throat and his heart amping up. And as he watched, he’d found himself imagining how fucking good she would feel as he dragged off her prim clothes and rode her with slow, hot strokes, skin sliding over sweat-dampened skin.
He’d stood watching for well over an hour. Fantasizing. Aching. Wanting. What the fuck? Women just didn’t have this kind of effect on him. He’d never before seen a woman he’d felt such an instant, hot attraction to. He was like some horny kid chasing after his first piece of ass. Get a grip, man.
Unable to stand it any longer, he’d stepped out of the shadows and had butted into the line, smiling down at the startled woman behind him and asking her to just let him sneak in front for a moment. An odd glazed look had come over the woman’s face and she’d simply nodded jerkily as he thanked her and waited for the young woman ahead of him to finish.
But it was when she had taken the book and her slim fingers had tangled with his and she had flashed those gorgeous eyes up at him, that he’d felt as if he had been slugged in the gut with a fist. And then he’d spoken to her and he had seen the amazed, almost shocked look that came over her face, and he had wanted to drag her up out of that damn little chair and across that table to kiss her. To do one hell of a lot more than just kiss her. His groin was so fucking tight, he could barely think straight.
And now, as he held her captive less than an inch away and he stared down into those stunning, wet-dream-provoking eyes, with her lush curves soft against his hot, raging body, all he wanted was to drag her clothes off and make hot love to her on top of that dusty old desk in the back corner of the stockroom.
He tilted her face up to his and couldn’t stop himself. He leaned possessively into her slender body and bent to devour those lush, sensational lips as she weakly protested his accusations.
He had never tasted anything so fucking good in his life. He felt her sweetly tantalizing mouth open beneath his and he took instant advantage, deepening the kiss and drinking in the honeyed taste of her, his tongue sweeping hungrily into her mouth as his hands molded the delicious little body that was so carefully hidden under that high-necked, long-sleeved blouse and that trim wool skirt.
He heard her gasp of shock and then a whimper of enjoyment as he slanted his mouth across hers to get even closer. His tongue drove between her lips urgently and he inhaled her sexy-sweet scent, his cock suddenly harder than hell as their tongues tangled in an erotic dance that made him want to shed their clothes and get down to business. Heat surged through him, an intense, wanting heat that made him forget where he was and why he was there.
How the hell had this happened?
He was beginning to believe that she had dreamed him, because he sure as hell had dreamed her. But in his own fevered, heady dreams, she had been a nebulous wraith whose kiss and touch had brought him awake dragging in deep breaths of air and shaking from the surreality of making love to her. From sinking his cock hard and deep into a body made for sin. From the feel of a sweet, wet sheath cradling his flesh and milking him as he came so damn hard inside her. The delicious smell of her was straight out of his dreams. The taste of her mouth. The pounding of that heart against his chest. And all he wanted was to experience that dream again. And again.
He barely heard the muffled pounding at the door of the stockroom. It somehow made its way into his fevered brain. He realized that he wasn’t thinking clearly. He realized that he was on the very edge of doing something incredibly stupid here. He realized with a groan that he was certainly not supposed to be kissing this woman, who had basically stolen his life and displayed it for millions of horny, panting female readers. He had to stop what he was doing and drag her into court and get his share of the income from those books. Make her regret using his face and name without his permission. Make her sorry.
But for the life of him, he couldn’t take his hands or his mouth from her. He felt her slender, lushly curved body arching into his, her fingers dragging over his sensitive nipples where she had burrowed under his shirt to touch his naked skin. Her hands, sweetly wicked, moving over his quaking body to drive him mad for her as she too seemed totally lost in the moment. Lost in the scintillating, sexual heat that swept over them both in a tsunami of pure lust.
Sam was shocked that he was kissing her instead of strangling her but she was even more shocked at her own depraved, humiliating need to touch his body. To feel the rippling muscles under that silk suit jacket. She had frantically dragged his shirt out of the waistband of his slacks and had burrowed under the soft Egyptian cotton with trembling hands, seeking the hot, hard muscles of his ribs and chest and back, as she whimpered and allowed him complete freedom to plunder her mouth.
It didn’t occur to her to protest as she felt him drag her own blouse out of the waistband of her skirt to imitate her eager exploration. It was her dream all over again. And it was even better with a real, live man. And then common sense began to kick back in.
Whoa. She shouldn’t be kissing this man. She should be calling her lawyer and asking for legal advice. She should be covering her ass legally and professionally but all she could do was wrap herself around him, doing her damnedest to undress him in the stockroom of the mall bookstore!
Stupid. Stupid. STUPID!
But her body had taken over, leaving her fevered brain in the dust. He was so decadently delicious. He tasted of heat and mint and espresso with heavy cream. He tasted of melted chocolate and incredible man. Oh, the man had such a talented tongue. She shivered as she thought of it on other places on her trembling body. Running over her skin and dipping into—
The pounding on the door didn’t quite make it through to her as she wrapped one leg around his rock-hard thigh and pressed her throbbing center to the heavy ridge of muscle below his hip. Her right hand slid down into his slacks to follow the equally hard ridge of his straining cock. She heard the groan of pleasure that erupted from his throat. Heard the whimper of need that came from her own. Never in her entire life had she done anything remotely this outrageous. This completely wanton. His cock seemed to grow larger, harder, filling her hand as he dragged her hips against his leg and cupped her ass with both hands.
If Phyllis hadn’t managed to shove the door open against their combined weights a couple of inches to groan, “What the hell is going on in there, Sam? You have to get back out here. There’s going to be a riot if these women don’t get to see you and him!” she might have succeeded in forcing herself on the man right on the spot. Oh but he was so hard, heavenly and hot!
“Sam. Open this damn door!”
She managed to return from outer space and shove shakily away from him with a sharp gasp for breath, putting her foot back on solid ground as his hands slid off her butt and went instantly to adjust his mangled tie.
“Okay. Hold your horses. Just another minute,” she rasped, as they both recovered from their momentary meltdown and rapidly tucked and smoothed disarranged clothing like two kids caught playing doctor in the hayloft. Holy shit. She felt her face go bright red with mortification as she realized what the hell she had just been doing and she nervously chewed the corner of her lip as she smoothed her hair back with trembling fingers.
Dazed, David stared down into eyes that could so damn easily control his body and mind. He felt his fevered body still clamoring for her. Felt his cock still hot and hard with need as he cleared his throat and ran his hands around his belt, shoving his shirt back where it belonged as she imitated his actions with her own clothing.
What a fucking rush. Whatever the hell had just happened, it had happened to both of them.
It had been incredibly arousing to feel her pressing her hot pussy against him like a mindless nymphomaniac as his own body had virtually exploded with an unbelievable charge of white-hot lust that had nearly put him into orbit.
Who the hell drove the oversized truck that had just hit his libido smack on and plowed him ten feet under? He’d just given the damn woman grounds to take him to court for sexual harassment, for hell’s sake!
He was just getting his breathing back to normal as she said, “I have no idea on earth where that just came from. I am so sorry. I was out of line completely. I sincerely hope you don’t plan to include molestation in your lawsuit.” She looked pink and flustered and completely adorable as she blinked up at him with those wide, emerald eyes.
Fran: Nothing at all happened in this scene, but that doesn’t matter. It still leaves the reader with a build-up of what’s to come, and keeps the pages turning. LOL! In the meantime, the scene where they finally DO get it all together is hotter yet.
Lia: Oh yeah. I feel the build-up, baby. Whew! That was one hot scene, Fran. Thanks for being a Writer with Sizzle!
Fran: Thanks for having me over today, Lia! It’s been fun!
To find more of Fran Lee’s sizzling writing, visit her website: