Bio: Ashleigh Raine

Ashleigh Raine is a multi-published, award-winning writing team made up of lifelong friends, Jennifer and Lisa. Living in the Los Angeles area, they have both worked various jobs in the Entertainment industry including stagehand, script reader, feature film production assistant, precision driver, theatrical lighting designer, seat filler and background actor. These experiences are a wealth of inspiration for their Hollywood Heat series.

Their first novel, LOVER'S TALISMAN, won second place honors in the Reviewers International Organization (RIO) Award of Excellence for Best Debut Book 2003. Their second novel, FORSAKEN TALISMAN, was a RIO Recommended Read for August 2004. The Ashleigh Raine website (http://www.ashleighraine.com/) contains further information on these talented ladies and the Hollywood lives they've lived.


Driven to Distraction excerpt #1

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Driven to Distraction by Ashleigh Raine
2007 (c) Copyright Ashleigh Raine
Available now from Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

Left turn. Right turn. Twist and turn. Left turn. Left turn.

Blaina Triton cruised the streets of Encino, driving to her best friend Sam Clarey's place for an old-fashioned girls' night in—pizza, ice cream and gossip. Of course gossip was just a nice way of saying they were going to talk about men and sex.

The traffic light turned green and Blaina made a right onto Burbank Boulevard near Woodley Park. One of the only decent breaks from buildings at the south end of the Valley, it was wide enough to smash the pedal and go like a bat out of hell if there weren't any cars around.

A sliver of moon chased the sun as warm evening breeze poured through her open window, bringing with it two of her favorite smells, trees and car exhaust. Driving through Encino was the long way to Sam's house. The very long and much-preferred way. Just Blaina and her yellow '69 Camaro, the way life should be. Then her cell phone rang.

"Blaine? Please tell me you're not already on your way over?"

"Yeah, Sam, I'll be there in maybe twenty, thirty minutes, depending on traffic. You know me, I'm taking the scenic route over the hill. What's up?"

"You're gonna hate me," Sam said hesitantly.

"Oh right. Me hate you. You married the most gorgeous man in Hollywood and I don't hate you yet. What else could you possibly do that'd actually make me hate you?" Blaina rolled her eyes and laughed. "You canceling on me or something?"

"Well…yeah…" Sam drew out each word then spoke in a rush. "But it's for a really good reason. Connor's home. He rearranged his schedule so he could come home a day early and surprise me and—"

"And you'd rather fuck him than hang with me? Duh. I should hope so." Blaina snickered and shot a glance at the gaudy, neon pink bag on the passenger seat. "Now that Connor's back home, I guess you won't need the gift I bought you. Too bad, I'll just have to add it to my collection."

"Hey, now. You can't tell me you bought me a present and then say you're keeping it for yourself."

"Pshaw. It's not like you need it. You are getting laid tonight. I'm going home alone—with your present. A portable penis. Ten inches of glowing green, vibrating pleasure."

"Only ten inches? Connor's bigger than that."

"Shut up and stop bragging." Blaina chuckled, then saw something that gave her a better buzz than anything plastic ever could.

A dark purple 1970 Barracuda convertible parked on the side of the road, hood up, complete with hard-body owner leaning against the fender just in front of the driver side door. Muscular bronze arms crossed over a white T-shirted chest. Faded blue jeans that looked so well-worn they'd be soft to the touch, showcased his long legs, ending with black, work-booted feet, one crossed over the other. It was like the man had stepped out of her favorite car fantasy, instantly popping the clutch and throwing her libido into high gear.

She tried to tamp her excitement, telling herself that a smart woman would not jump a strange man on the side of the road. But there was no reason she couldn't offer help. And whatever happened afterward… "I think my night's gonna be great anyway. Go rock Connor's world. I'll catch ya later, Sam."

Sam laughed. "Okay. Thanks, Blaine. Be good." Sam's last words were barely heard as Blaina flipped her phone closed and tossed it onto the passenger seat next to the plastic bag from the sex shop. At a break in the center median, she hooked a U-turn. The Camaro's tires squeaked as she whipped the car around.

Come to mama, baby. Her nipples tightened in anticipation under her white cotton, ribbed tank top and she squirmed to give her cunt some breathing room in her painted-on, low-rise, dark green camouflage jeans. As she passed on the opposite side of the street, she stole glances at the fine hunk of manflesh, wanting to verify he was real and not a sexual mirage.

Wait a minute. Was he checking her out, too? His dark sun-glassed gaze followed her path as she U-turned again at the next intersection and pulled up behind the Barracuda.

When she stepped out of the car, his gaze locked on her. Even through the sunglasses, she felt his stare searing her body from head to toe—pausing at a few choice places in between—with each of her approaching steps. Or maybe it was the Southern California heat causing her body's temperature to rise.

Slowly, he peeled himself away from his car and turned his damn fine body toward her, looking relaxed and sexy as he looped one thumb in a pocket. Sweat trickled between her breasts, her temperature jumping another ten degrees. This close, the man was an even tastier roadside attraction. His blond hair was cut short, accentuating his strong cheekbones, a slightly crooked nose and chiseled jaw. One half of his mouth ticked upward in an interested grin as he gave her another slow once over, pausing at her braless chest.

Blaina cocked her head to the side and returned the favor, undressing him with her eyes. Holy moly, if reality was anything like the carnal picture her mind was presenting…

Somehow she managed to choke out through all the accumulating drool, "I've got tools. You need a hand?"

"A woman with tools, huh?" His grin shifted into a scowl as he smacked a fist against the roof. "Unless you've got a magic wand, a gallon of water and a roll of duct tape there probably isn't much you can do."

"I've got a gallon of water and a roll of duct tape. I left my magic wand at home, though. Sorry, I don't need it much. I drive a Chevy." She winked, then began walking back to her car, adding what she hoped was a mesmerizing, follow-me-back-to-my-car swing to her hips.

He chuckled. "Oh, I see how it is." The crunch of gravel beneath his boots as he followed had her ready to do cartwheels. Reel him in, Blaina. "You tease me with your tools and then put down my new ride before she's proven herself? Give me a weekend and I'll get this here pile of scrap metal to smoke your Chevy like it's tied to a tree."

"Oh, please. You gonna slide in a hotter camshaft and switch the gears in her rear-end just so you can have a shot at my machine? I dare ya." Blaina popped her trunk and grabbed a rag, a jug of water and slid a roll of tape over her wrist. She needed something to keep her hands busy. Her fingers itched to rip the clothing off Mr. Hardbody and explore all of his pieces. "I'd love to see your hotrod pull out ahead of me. But tell me this, what are you gonna do when I squeeze the juice and you find yourself working extra hard and heavy only to eat my dust?" She tossed a saucy grin back over her shoulder.

He leaned a hip against the edge of the trunk next to her and although they weren't touching, his arresting presence practically sucked the air from her lungs. The steamy twilight air resonated with his intense magnetism, drawing her to him like a moth to a flame…and oh how she wanted to burn. "I guess you'll have to wait and find out what it's really like to tangle with my big block Barracuda. Bring it on. I love a good…hot…race." His words slid down her neck like a heated caress, letting her know she wasn't the only one who wanted more than just a roadside attraction.

Blaina swallowed hard, suppressing a breathy pant. This man had revved her engine from zero to sixty in less time than it took to say, I want you. Can you please fuck me right here on the trunk of my car?

Visions of that fuck filled her mind, the full length of him driving hard into her, the feel of his breath ragged and hot against her skin. Her body tightened with unspent desire and she swallowed a moan. This was the fastest her body had ever shifted into overdrive.

Damn, girl, come to your senses. You've spent less than five minutes with this man and you want him to check your oil?

She stood up quickly, trying to clear the lingering sexual fantasies before her nipples drilled holes through her tank top. The jug of water she'd clenched so tightly hit the edge of the trunk and bounced out of her grip, landing inches from her feet.

"Whoa. You okay?" He lunged downward, but she'd already leaned over to retrieve the jug. She took that moment to push all thoughts of sex with him out of her mind, before she ended up dropping something much heavier and more painful on her foot. Calm…cool…collected…c'mon, Blaina…

But when she lifted her head, his lips were only inches from hers and that ragged breath she'd been fantasizing about only moments earlier washed over her face in a feverish caress.

"Yeah…I'm f-fine." You're incredibly fine, actually. I need to pour this water over myself to try to cool off at least a tiny little bit or I really will jump you on the trunk of my car, passing motorists be damned. "S-So, did you overheat?"

His tempting lips curled up in a suggestive smile.

"I-I mean, your car."

"Radiator hose." A car part had never sounded so sexy before. His voice had dropped, becoming a deep husky growl, more sex beast than mechanic.

His gaze stayed riveted on her for a second longer than necessary, before he turned and headed over to his engine compartment.

And talk about a fine rear view. Wow. Blaina followed, staring at his firm, tight ass while taking deep, calming breaths to decelerate her heart back to normal cruising speed.

She set down the jug of water—carefully this time—and laid the duct tape on the front fender.

"Big block engines… They get real hot, don't they?" She tilted her face toward him, and lowered her voice provocatively. "Ever let a woman caress your big hose?" Blaina gave him her naughtiest smile, but at his snorted reply, she erupted into laughter.

He shook his head. "Honestly, I never imagined a woman would want to caress a hose as big as the one I've got." His grin turned positively feral as he moved in behind her, so close the heat of his body cradled hers, and whispered into her ear. "Careful, it's very…hot." He drew out the last word and Blaina shivered at the sensual intensity in his tone.

Using the rag, she placed her fingers around the radiator hose and began stroking up its length. She'd only traveled three inches when he grasped her hand, trapping it between the heat of the hose and his skin. A current of electricity shot from where he touched her to every erogenous zone in her body. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought she'd gotten crossed up with a spark plug wire while the engine was at full throttle.

His hands were large and work-roughened, the kind that could rebuild a carburetor and undress a woman with equal care, and oh God how she wanted to experience him doing both.

"I'll take over from here," he rumbled, working the rag and her hand up the hose's length. His arm grazed hers, the coarse hairs causing goose bumps to rise on her flesh.

Blaina closed her eyes, letting him manipulate her hand and her senses. Fixing a car had never been this erotic before. If they were to fuck, would he show her how he liked to be stroked? It wasn't hard to imagine pumping his thick, hard cock, taking the large, round head into her mouth and working him until he came.

Oh hell, she almost came at that image. Her pussy flooded with moisture, her stomach clenching with deep-seated longing. It was everything she could do not to rub up against him, throw him down and shift his gears like he kept shifting hers.

Fuck it. If he hadn't figured out by now that she wanted him, she might as well make it more obvious. But as she leaned back to feel his rock-hard chest, he leaned in, giving her an added bonus of washboard abs pressed to her rib cage. Her ass grazed the large bulge in his pants, but it was enough to send sharp ripples of longing to her core. His entire body strung tight and a sharp breath hissed between his lips.

A gurgling sound called her attention back to the car. As if on cue, some water dribbled out of the break in the hose, sizzling as it hit the water pump. But neither one of them laughed. Heat seared her body from every direction. The car was hot, this man was hot, the ground was hot, her pussy was hot…everything was scorching hot.

Needing an escape before she completely lost control, threw him down and fucked him on the side of the road for all to see, Blaina slid her hand out from under his and stepped away. For a moment he watched her, his hand fisted at his side, his breathing as sharp as hers, before finally returning to his work.

She walked a few feet, trying to catch a breeze, something, anything to cool the raging fire burning through her. The asphalt ignored her plea, the heat of the day still rising off it.

He glanced back at her. "You rescue guys like this all the time?"

She shook her head.

"Well, I guess it's just my lucky day then. And to think I was pissed off about breaking down one lousy mile from home."

Damn she wanted him, more than she could remember wanting any other man. So what next? Was she supposed to climb back into her car and let Mr. Hardbody drive away? Buh-bye. It's been fun.

That would be a serious crime against humanity. Or at least against her dismally boring social calendar.

She moved to face him, just as he stood up. He gestured toward his car. "Can you start her up so I can fill the radiator?"

Blaina nodded, not sure that if she opened her mouth to reply, anything but "Please fuck me" would come out.

Before her wits left her for good and she ended up on her knees supplicating, she reached through his open window, turned the key and the engine chugged to life. Pulling back out of the car, she caught him watching her before he leaned over and began pouring the water in. He'd been checking out her ass. That was it. She was not spending this evening alone.

Decision made, she walked around the front of the car.

He looked up at her approach. "You got anywhere you need to be?"

"I'm following you home to make sure you get there okay."

He nodded. "Let's go."

Driven to Distraction excerpt #2 (a hint of naughtiness)

Driven to Distraction by Ashleigh Raine
2007 (c) Copyright Ashleigh Raine
Available now from Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

When the Barracuda brake lights dimly lit up and he turned into a driveway, Blaina stopped in front of the house, watching as he pulled into the garage.


He lived in one of the older houses in the neighborhood, a single story home painted beige with cream accents with matching fifties-style decorative rock facing. The lawn was simple and well-maintained. An extra garage had been tastefully added on, turning the standard two-car garage home into a car lover's dream—room for a workshop and four cars.


As if she wasn't already panting for the guy.


Blaina grabbed the gaudy pink sex shop bag off the passenger seat and pushed the ten-inch vibrator out of the way, revealing a box of multicolored condoms. Ripping the box open, she took in the rainbow of rubbers—red, blue, yellow, green, purple…


What was wrong with her? Why was she pondering colors? Blaina yanked out a condom and stuffed it into her back pocket.


She looked up to see Mr. Tall, Blond and Sexy walking her way, hands in his pockets, sunglasses no longer camouflaging his face. Her stomach flip-flopped at his approach, his long, confident strides, the way the denim clung to him in all the right places. Blindly, she reached back into the bag for more rubbers. One condom was _not_ going to be enough.


Cramming the handful of condoms into her back pocket, Blaina tossed the bag back onto the opposing seat, cringing as the ten-inch vibrating monstrosity thumped against the passenger door. Hopefully she hadn't broken the damn thing.


The man's shadow crossed the window, and Blaina forgot about the stupid vibrator as she climbed out of her car and stared into crystal blue heaven.


The man had the most gorgeous cerulean eyes she'd ever seen. Why the hell would he hide those beauties behind sunglasses…ever?


His grin widened, creating matching crinkles at the corners of those sexy eyes. How long had she been standing there ogling him, mesmerized by his gaze?


Shaking it off, she leaned against her closed door, trying to look casual and flirty and oh-so-ready for hours of naughtiness. "So, you got home okay. Guess my job's done."


"Well now, the least I can do is offer you a drink. For going out of your way and all."


She cocked her head to the side as though she were considering his offer. "Throw in a tour of your garage and it's a deal."


"Done." He winked and extended his arm to her, unintentionally revealing corded muscle bulging beneath tanned skin. "Come on."


Blaina was smitten, charmed and ready to go anywhere with him. She pushed away from her car and he settled a hand on her upper back, leading her into the garage. He barely touched her, more of a guiding hand than an erotic caress, but it was enough to send her senses reeling.


Then they walked into his garage, and the last bit of sense she had went flying out the window.


Welcome to paradise. Blaina's mouth fell open as she took in her surroundings.


Next to his Barracuda, a blue '63 Corvette split window coupe with freshly polished chrome twinkled in the twilight. At the far end sat a custom-painted teal with detailed orange and yellow flames '49 Ford Panel Truck, chopped, channeled and ready to roll. But if rolling wasn't fast enough, next to it was a sleek, black '97 Viper roadster. That baby didn't just look fast, it was fast.


This garage was incredible. A huge workshop took up most of the back wall. In the dim light, she vaguely made out a drill press, brake lathe and chop saw, but knew there had to be tons more. If this wasn't automotive foreplay, what was?


"Okay, what do you like? Diet or regular? Or maybe a beer?"


His deep, gravelly voice yanked her from her musings and she snapped her mouth shut, hoping he hadn't caught her drooling. Turning his way, she pasted on a smile, swallowing her tongue at her new view—jeans pulled tight over a flawless male ass as he bent over and studied the contents of his steel-plated fridge.


Blaina walked up behind him, lifting her hand and cupping the air around his butt. Oh yeah, sooooo nice…


When he tossed a raised-eyebrow glance her way, she jolted her hand back and said, "I like it all."


His eyebrow arched higher, laughter dancing in his eyes. "Really?"


"Oh yeah. I'm easy to please."


"Good to know." He handed her a soda and grabbed a bottle of beer for himself. A few pizza boxes crashed against the door as he closed it. "Obviously I wasn't planning on having company tonight or I would've been more prepared." Twisting off the bottle cap, he leaned against the workbench, his long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle, his gaze one hundred percent focused on her.


Blaina thought of the condoms filling her back pocket. Although that probably wasn't what he was talking about when he mentioned being prepared, it was a perfect opening to learn his relationship status. "Do you live alone?"


"Just me and my dog, Bo, out back."


Yes! Yes! Yes! But just to be sure she confirmed, "No wife, girlfriend, significant other or anyone else who'd be a teeny-tiny bit jealous that I'm lusting after your…cars?"


One side of his mouth tilted upward. "Nope. Cars are usually women repellent."


"I think you've been talking to the wrong women."


He chuckled. "I think you're probably right."


"Of course I am."


His grin didn't disappear as he lifted the beer bottle to his mouth. His head tipped back, throat moving as he swallowed. She wanted to brace him against the workbench and nibble on his neck, lick a line up to his mouth and then suck the extra moisture from his lips. His really sexy lips. Lips made for sin, sex and seduction.


Shockwaves of lust caused her engine to overheat and her driveline to shimmy with desire. And she'd thought that only happened in romance novels. But no, her legs were quaking and she squeezed her knees together to keep them from knocking. She skimmed her can of soda over the steamy, exposed flesh above her tank top, and swore she heard a sizzle. But the cool relief was short-lived. His eyes sparked electric blue fire as they followed the trail the condensation left on her skin, heating her right back up again.


He clunked the half-empty beer bottle onto the workbench next to his hip, and stood up straight, aligning their bodies. "You still interested in that tour?" His fingertips grazed her hips, burning a hole through the denim.


If they were naked, all Blaina'd have to do is wiggle and jump and she'd be shifting her way to paradise.


Why weren't they naked already?


"I'm ready when you are," she offered hopefully. If the large lump in his pants was anything to go by, he was just as ready as she was.


"How fast do you like to go?"


Her heart accelerated, setting new land speed records. "Why don't you take me for a test spin and find out?"


The words had barely passed her lips when he yanked her toward him and crashed his mouth over hers.


Oh Christ, the man was talented. His lips were warm and smooth as he teased hers, nibbling the sensitive flesh, then using his tongue to soothe the slight sting. Blaina didn't normally like beer, but the faint taste of it on him was an intoxicant, a flavor she'd happily drown in if given the opportunity.


Calloused hands skimmed up her bare arms, leaving a trail of pure arousal in his wake. His palms came to rest on her neck, his thumbs stroking her jaw line. But still he didn't deepen the kiss or rip off her clothes or any of the wonderful things that would get them closer to raw, unbridled sex.


Although maybe this going slow thing had its benefits. There was time for exploration, and this man had a body that demanded a fourteen-point inspection. But where to start. Did she want to polish his chrome? Dabble beneath his hood? Lengthen his driveshaft?


She placed her hands on his chest, beginning her journey by stroking him through the soft cotton, moaning her endorsement of every taut, hard, chiseled inch. Her fingertips skimmed lower, feeling the ridges in his abdomen. It was a roadmap to paradise.


Where had this man been her whole life? She sent up a quick prayer of thanks to the god of broken down vehicles for having this perfect specimen of a man's car stall when and where it did.


His lips separated from hers and she blinked up at him. Why was he stopping? Stopping was bad.


"Do you want to go inside?" he asked as his thumb made lovely, erotically charged sweeps across her cheek.


Okay, that was definitely not bad. That was very, very good. Except she didn't want to go inside.


She shook her head and he frowned. His hand fell from her face and Blaina realized she'd better explain really fast before he retreated completely. She tangled her fingers with his and smiled. "Why would I want to go inside? You and the cars are out here. The garage is perfect."