Jaime Samms Makes Us Better! With a Copy for Someone.

Hi everyone-- It's my delight to welcome author Jaime Samms. Today, Jaime is bringing us her new release, Better, and one of you gets to win a copy. so be sure and leave a comment WITH your email. You'll be glad you did.  :  ) Here's Jaime

You hear, every so often, how writing is a solitary activity, and I suppose, when it comes down to putting the words on the page, the only person responsible for getting it done is the writer, alone, who’s fingers are on the keyboard (or the pen. I hear some writers still do that…). But anyone who thinks there is no secondary or tertiary input, even long before the story reaches an editor, well, they don’t know.

I can’t remember the last time I wrote a story I didn’t talk about to at least one other writer friend. We bounce ideas off one another all the time, If not another writer, maybe a partner or a non-writing friend gets to hear about the bumps and blocks along the way to every masterpiece. Those acknowledgements in the front of the books are not for nothing.

So what if a writer is extremely private and superstitious and thinks if they talk about a story before it’s done, they’ll scuttle it? Unless they live alone, never go out and stay off line, I’m pretty sure someone, somewhere, gets to listen to them talk about how thy need to sleep/eat/pee but this story just won’t unshackle them from their desk. If they don’t live alone, well…there’s a good chance someone else is feeding them and hauling them to bed once in a while.

No story happens in a vacuum. We need human contact and experience, we need to feel things and learn things, and we need to be in the world to know there are stories to write. Every once in a while, we come across someone, whether they be a life-long friend or someone who drifts into our lives and out again at just the right time, who make this whole gig possible. Those are the people to thank for the stories we writers manage to pound out. Without them, I promise, it wouldn’t happen.

Better is one of the stories that happened because a kind man with a lot of encouragement and insight drifted into my life at the right time. We’ve since drifted our separate ways, for the most part, but I know he’s out there, still writing and still encouraging other writers, and I appreciate him immensely for believing in me. Thanks, Paul.

 Blurb: After filing charges that put his abusive ex-Dom behind bars, Jesse Turbul relocates  across the country, hoping to escape his past—but, of course, it's never that easy. When Jesse meets third-year law student Aadon at the library where he works, their mutual attraction is instant and obvious.

 Despite the sparks, they just can't seem to make it work. Aadon is mired in guilt over his inability to help his older brother, damaged by events far too similar to to Jesse's past. Jesse is stuck in his own desperate wish to forget the painful shadow that continues to threaten him and any hope of a happy future. 

 The only way to move forward is for Jesse to acknowledge he's broken and for Aadon to accept he can't make him better. 

Excerpt: Jesse watched his date for a while, waiting for the blond head to lift. Only when Mike came to the table a few minutes later did Aadon look up. He glanced at Jesse, turned to Mike and placed his order, waited until Jesse had ordered and Mike had left before quietly excusing himself from the table.

Jesse waited a long time, much longer than it would take for Aadon to use the facilities, before following him.

The heavy restroom door swung open on silent hinges, and the peculiar smell of a bathroom trying too hard not to smell like a bathroom engulfed him. Jesse drew in a silent breath and stepped inside.

Aadon leaned on the counter by the sinks, his back to the mirror.

“I’m sorry.” Jesse tried to make the apology light, tried to see into Aadon’s shrouded eyes.

Finally, Aadon looked at him. “Why?”

“I got a little defensive.” He held up his hand, finger and thumb an inch apart, sheepish smile on his face.

Aadon stifled a groan. How could he be so fiery one minute, and this…adorable the next and not know how crazy it made him? He pushed himself off the sink and closed his hand around Jesse’s fingers, closing the space and kissing the fingertips. “Maybe that’s the point. As long as you feel you have to defend yourself around me, I have to be careful.” He closed his eyes, kept his lips pressed to his warm fingers.

God this was hard. He wasn’t doing Jesse any good, wanting him this bad, knowing he couldn’t—shouldn’t—and knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. He shouldn’t still even be with him. It was too much. He just wasn’t what Jesse needed.

Jesse felt the churning sensation in the pit of his stomach even before Aadon spoke again and yanked his hand free, mouth open, ready to fill the void before Aadon could speak. Before he could say what Jesse knew he was about to say. He was too slow.

Aadon took his face in both hands, tilting it up and looking into his eyes. “As long as I have to be that careful, this can’t work.”

“But—”

“Because I don’t want to be careful, Jesse,” Aadon went on, overriding his faint protest, passing a thumb over Jesse’s lips and backing him up against a stall.

“Then don’t.” The words warbled out past Jesse’s pulse fluttering in his throat. He swallowed hard. “Don’t be careful.” Aadon’s toned body pressed his against the cold metal. The rush of fear and excitement mingled, and he knew he’d lost the ability to tell which was which. He didn’t know if he cared.

“If I’m not, I could do more damage than Anthony ever did.” Aadon’s palm caressed his cheek, his fingers slid into Jesse’s hair, and he kissed; a light strike of his lips and tongue, there and gone too quickly to capture, but expertly bringing him back down to where he could almost breathe normally.

The rush faded, and Jesse wanted it back.

He gripped the front of Aadon’s shirt, preventing him from moving away. “You’re not anything like Anthony, and I’m not who I was then.” He never would have demanded Anthony answer his desire like this. Kissing Aadon firmly, not hard or angry, just without compromise, Jesse closed his eyes, willed the other man to understand. He needed this so desperately. Needed to know he was wanted, desired. Needed to know Aadon could look on him as a man and not a shattered thing.

A soft groan welled in Aadon’s throat and spilled out into Jesse’s kiss. It was so good. So sweet, and held so much conviction. It was, finally, too much to resist. He answered it, tongue stroke for tongue stroke, slowly

wresting control of the kiss from Jesse as he pinned him between his hard body and the cold metal of the bathroom stall. His big hands cupped Jesse’s head, his body an immovable weight against him, soaking in Jesse’s heat and desire, keeping him still and contained.

Jesse couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and his fingers tightened to fists in Aadon’s shirt. This was exactly the kind of mindless surrender he’d always craved. Exactly what Anthony had never once given him. Because Anthony had never asked for it the way Aadon was doing with his firm, gentle touches and his warm hands, possessive, but not hard or hurtful. Jesse let go of that last bit of control and felt his head impact the stall wall with a soft thud. His hands relaxed, his body heated and melted to conform with Aadon’s, and he opened that last little bit to feel Aadon’s tongue sweep in and possess him.

BuyLink: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2739&osCsid=to1sc0u2342r40ga7qpjhjlvs6

Don't forget to comment with your email for a chance to win this wonderful book! Thanks so much to Jaime for being my guest and thank you so much for coming by. Remember, i LOVE Blog followers! And Fire Balls releases Friday. Check my website under events for the whole schedule. http://www.taralain.com  :  )