When Selena kindly invited me to her blog to talk about my latest release, Guitar Man, I began to look for ways to connect it to Valentine’s Day – something more than the obvious fact that it’s a romance! And I thought that, aside from his inconvenient possession by an evil spirit, my hero, Chris, would make a great Valentine’s Day partner – he’s fun, good-looking, sexy, would take you out for dinner, seduce you with romantic music and song…

I remembered my initial inspiration for Chris, a rather charming, blond, Irish busker I saw once in Italy, playing his guitar and singing outside a church. He had amazing blue eyes and a dazzling smile which he bestowed on all who caught his roving attention – including me. My story formed itself around him – or at least my idea of him which was pure imagination for I never even spoke to him!

I do know other musicians, though. In fact, I’ve lived with one for nearly twenty years, and inevitably bits of him crept into Chris too. I even dedicated the story to him - “my own Guitar Man” - who, apart from everything else, is the reason I can and do write. So here’s my day after Valentine’s Day toast.

To my real Guitar Man, a true, free spirit - musician, poet, photographer, computer geek, bon viveur and player of games – my friend and companion, the father of my children and the love of my life. My husband.
How’s that for romantic?

And here’s a little more romance, from Guitar Man, the book :-)
Ellie’s a powerful psychic who can’t seem to hold onto her man. When she’s dumped at the altar—again—she swears off men and takes her wounded heart to Scotland, where she promptly runs into the best-ever one-night stand from her past, sexy, adventurous busker Chris.

Chris is as hot—and as good in bed—as he was when they first met. But something’s different now, something that changes him into a terrifying threat all her psychic abilities can’t overcome. Now it’s up to Ellie—free Chris from the evil possessing him, and claim him as her own.
Adjusting to the dark, I was sure I could make out relief in his eyes. Certainly, they began to smile again, along with his lips. “In that case, do you want to go out?”
I frowned. “Go out where?”
“You can choose,” he said dryly and I understood. Although the blood rushed through my body and into my neck and face, somewhere, I wanted to laugh.

“You mean like a date?”
“Dating, stepping out, courting, whatever…wynching, they say in Glasgow.”

“Wynching?” I repeated with a mixture of fascination and distaste.

“Don’t dodge the question.”
“I’m not,” I protested, not quite truthfully, for I had no idea what to answer, what I wanted to answer. “I’m just struggling to believe you are asking me out on a date. Considering our past…” No point in ignoring it. We’d had one wild, naughty time, no doubt far wilder and naughtier than if we had ever planned to see each other again.

“Well considering our past, it seems an even better idea.” His hand came up, touched my hair, my cheek, so lightly that I shivered. “Ellie, you were the best fuck I ever had, but I never knew you. I’d like to.”

Gasping, I caught at his hand, pressing it to my cheek without meaning to. “Was I really?” I whispered.

Silent laughter shook his shoulders. “By a mile. Come on, let’s do it properly, drinks, theatre, dinner…I’ll call you.”

I said breathlessly, “All right.”

My whole body burned. I didn’t really know why. Lust, certainly, but something else I thought might be embarrassment.

Chris smiled. “Kiss me good night, then.”

I lifted my face mutely, lips already parted. Relief and anticipation flooded me as he took me loosely into his arms and bent his head. God, I remembered his kisses, I remembered them so well and this afternoon seemed to have rekindled my short but intense addiction to them. Oh yes, this afternoon had been sweet…
And the morning terrifying. For a moment I froze with the memory, with the vision of Chris as he had been then, violent, crude, uncaring. Here, in the dark, how could I tell the real Chris from whatever demon possessed him? What if we were wrong and it wasn’t tied to the house at all? Would I be lucky enough to escape it a second time?

His eyes seemed to glitter as they came nearer. In fresh panic, I realized I didn’t actually know Chris very much better than I knew “it”. And yet I wanted his kiss, I wanted it so badly I’d risk the demon.

My lips actually trembled and then his warm mouth covered them, brushing, stroking, sinking. That’s how I know. No one kisses like Chris.

I opened for him, touched my tongue to his, felt its long, sliding caress as it twisted around mine. My arms crept around his neck, drawing him closer, remembering the feel of him. It was a long, sweet kiss, full of promise and building passion. Against my stomach, I felt his delicious hardening. His mouth pressed harder too, grew more demanding. His tongue plunged deeper and I was lost. I would have lain in the back seat of the Mini with him. I would have got down and dirty in the gravel. God yes, there was something about Chris!

But just as I moaned and began to writhe against him, he broke the kiss. Though his breathing was uneven, his arms loosened again, holding me only lightly as he touched his forehead to mine.

“Oh Ellie,” he breathed. “It was worth waiting a year for a kiss like that.”
Enchanted, I gave him another, sliding my fingers up through his soft, short hair to pull him closer. His arms tightened around me once more, his hand swept down my back and over my bottom, caressing while drawing me against his crotch. He leaned back against the car door. The feel of his bone-hard cock pressing into me, drove me wilder and as if he sensed it, the hand on my buttock shifted down my thigh, lifting it up and over his hip and I could feel his cock nestling against my soaking pussy. I moaned as his roving hand found its way under my skirt and to my naked leg, caressing up my thigh and inside my panties.

Dragging his mouth free of mine, he groaned, “I have this insane urge to lay you over the bonnet and push my cock right in there…” I gasped as his finger slid through my folds and unerringly found its way inside me for the second time that day. “I don’t care if they’re watching from the window.”
I said shakily, “Then why don’t you?”