Saturday, 29 July 2017

The Authors of Wanna Be Bad-Kate Richards

Wanna Be Bad is an anthology of  hot and sexy stories about forty-something women who find their first (or second) chance at love, after spending most of their adult life focused on other things. This weekend, I'm introducing you to the fabulous authors who have contributed to this collection.

Today, I'm featuring Kate Richards, author of Never Settle.

Workaholic Arabella Carmichael is achieving her career goal in a large corporation by giving up all her other dreams. Friends, family, and a love life—as well as company of her own. A surprise vacation designed to give her a break and make her even more productive on her return lands her on a an island with no Internet, so no way to work. Perhaps she can have one of those vacation flings she’s heard so much about. But why is that incredibly handsome guy leaving on the plane she arrived on?
Will Sanders spotted the gorgeous blonde when boarding the plane for the mainland. He cannot forget her and returns sooner than planned, only to find she’s about to hook up with a lawyer friend of his with a less than stellar reputation with women. Is he too late to catch her eye and get her to spend her vacation in his arms, or will she go ahead with her plans with Earl? He’s got to convince her he’s the right one for her before she throws herself back into a life of all work and no play. 
Vacation fling or start of a whole new life? Make the right choice, Arabella!


“Welcome to the Bahamas. May I see your passport?”
Okay. At least they’d established the country.
An hour later, she’d managed to get through Customs. Three minutes of flashing her passport and fifty-seven of chitchat from a woman with lots of time on her hands.
Finally, she stood outside the hut again, next to her new silver Tumi hard-sided luggage full of whatever Emily, her PA, thought she might want to take on the trip. She prayed either it was suitable or the resort had a good boutique. Despite working for her for over five years, the young woman still wore pleated skirts and button-down blouses that made her look like a Catholic schoolgirl. If they allowed them eyebrow piercings and blue hair. Still, her business degree and basic common sense made her an asset. But she’d never had the nerve to send her shopping…
According to the Customs lady, she had a half hour wait for a land taxi to take her to a water taxi to take her to the resort on the opposite side of the island. Before her car arrived, the pilot emerged from behind the building, deep in conversation with a tall man whose olive-skinned good looks made him a candidate for a magazine ad for high-end skin care products. Unlike Charlie’s ginger bristles, his neat black scruff clung to a chiseled jaw, making her fingers itch to touch it. His hair was combed, but a wisp of breeze lifted a lock and dropped it over his forehead, giving him a youthful jauntiness. Jeans, loafers, and a polo made up his ensemble. He walked with an easy, long-legged stride as if he hadn’t a care in the world. What must that be like?
Pausing before climbing the stairs to the plane, he turned and, one raven brow arched, held her gaze. Her breath caught. Don’t leave. But Charlie hollered something, and he nodded and, lifting a hand to her, boarded.
A moment later, they taxied off down the runway and then disappeared between puffy white clouds in the cerulean sky.
Sure, the one hot guy on the island left as she arrived. For one heady moment, she’d almost had the flash of an idea about a vacation romance. Or a fling. Sex filled a basic human need. One she’d been neglecting for quite some time.
Lucky she had work to keep her company. As always. She’d learned her lesson about romance long ago and didn’t often indulge in sex even for release. She had her eyes always on the prize. The presidency.
Dammit. I could have found an hour or two for him.
When she became president, nobody would be forced to take time off. For now, Arabella could settle into her room and work. Room service. Internet. Work. Comfort.
She removed her beige linen suit jacket, smoothed her skirt, and winced at her scraped-up shoes. The heat surging through her blood was related to the weather, and not the man who’d left. Getting all hot and bothered for someone she’d never see again held zero purpose.


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