About Christine Warner
About Some Like It In Handcuffs
Sunny Kennedy, the only female in a family of blue blood male detectives, is determined to prove testosterone isn’t the only qualification required to solve a cold case. Handcuffed while undercover then taken to the precinct by an attractive detective, her domineering family demands she work with Detective Judson Blackwolf, or she’s off the case.
Judson Blackwolf thinks women in law enforcement should work behind the scenes. The prospect of working with his Captain’s sexy daughter doesn’t thrill him. He only agrees in hopes of solving the murder of his one time mentor’s daughter. Once the case is over, he’s moving to Montana to heal his wounds from the loss of his last partner.
Judson Blackwolf thinks women in law enforcement should work behind the scenes. The prospect of working with his Captain’s sexy daughter doesn’t thrill him. He only agrees in hopes of solving the murder of his one time mentor’s daughter. Once the case is over, he’s moving to Montana to heal his wounds from the loss of his last partner.
Excerpt
“This isn’t how I wanted it between us.” Judson grabbed the neckline of her sweater, dragging her body to meet his with a solid thump. Sunny licked her lips in answer to the question in his eyes. He lowered his head to move his mouth over hers.
Sunny closed her eyes, a small whimper escaping her lips. She didn’t want it like this either, but that wasn’t possible. Unable to resist her attraction she accepted it wasn’t an affair, or a long distance romance she craved, but for him to love her back. It was all or nothing for her. Her heart sank. She accepted this as their goodbye kiss.
With no thought to what was happening upstairs, Sunny rose up on her toes demanding more. Her lips pulsated against Judson’s. When his hand trembled against her cheek in a soft caress she lost touch with reality.
“Judson.” Sunny’s weakened body drifted farther into Judson’s as his fingers glided down her arms, pulling them to her sides where their fingers intertwined. He forced them behind her before his tongue thrust into her mouth.
Their bodies molded together, she heard her own heartbeat and his as well when he curved his fingers around her rear and squeezed.
That’s when the click of the handcuffs against her wrist connected her to the handle of the locked cupboard.
“What the he--…Judson?” She looked up at him, her knees shook, her body still inflamed with fever.
“Like I was saying, you wait here and I’ll go upstairs to check it out. Backup’s already been called, so you’re safe until your brothers arrive.” Judson winked before walking toward the steps to the third level. Once he reached them he turned toward her and smiled. “Gotcha,” he whispered with his notorious grin.
But life has a habit of taking over. School, friends, family, jobs marriage, children….and my time wasn’t really my time anymore. All my seconds, minutes and hours became divided into several compartments. And that dream of writing, the one at the back of my mind, stayed there for years. I kept telling myself ‘Someday I wanted—no, I would—write a book.’
Sunny closed her eyes, a small whimper escaping her lips. She didn’t want it like this either, but that wasn’t possible. Unable to resist her attraction she accepted it wasn’t an affair, or a long distance romance she craved, but for him to love her back. It was all or nothing for her. Her heart sank. She accepted this as their goodbye kiss.
With no thought to what was happening upstairs, Sunny rose up on her toes demanding more. Her lips pulsated against Judson’s. When his hand trembled against her cheek in a soft caress she lost touch with reality.
“Judson.” Sunny’s weakened body drifted farther into Judson’s as his fingers glided down her arms, pulling them to her sides where their fingers intertwined. He forced them behind her before his tongue thrust into her mouth.
Their bodies molded together, she heard her own heartbeat and his as well when he curved his fingers around her rear and squeezed.
That’s when the click of the handcuffs against her wrist connected her to the handle of the locked cupboard.
“What the he--…Judson?” She looked up at him, her knees shook, her body still inflamed with fever.
“Like I was saying, you wait here and I’ll go upstairs to check it out. Backup’s already been called, so you’re safe until your brothers arrive.” Judson winked before walking toward the steps to the third level. Once he reached them he turned toward her and smiled. “Gotcha,” he whispered with his notorious grin.
Guest Post (by the author)
The Most Asked Question
Do you know what the question I’m asked the most is? “Have you always wanted to be a writer?”
Sounds like a simple question to answer, but there is more
to the answer than yes or no.
Yes, I’ve always
loved writing. Loved creating characters
and stories in my head. From the time I
won an essay contest, then a young author’s award, I was hooked. I kept telling myself ‘Someday I wanted—no, I would—write a book.’
But life has a habit of taking over. School, friends, family, jobs marriage, children….and my time wasn’t really my time anymore. All my seconds, minutes and hours became divided into several compartments. And that dream of writing, the one at the back of my mind, stayed there for years. I kept telling myself ‘Someday I wanted—no, I would—write a book.’
More years passed and several conversations took place
between my sister and I…you know the one, where you play the should’ve,
could’ve, would’ve game. Again she heard
about my dream of writing, and again, I told myself and her ‘Someday I wanted—no, I would—write a book.’
Then about 4 years ago she must’ve grown tired of my mantra
‘Someday I wanted—no, I would—write a
book.’ She bought a few books about the
craft of writing, nudged me along on the phone and in person to make sure I was
writing and she became my biggest support.
The days I wanted to give up out of frustration and downright self-doubt
she encouraged me.
I spent a year writing Some Like it in Handcuffs. I like to think of this time of honing my ability
and finding my voice and style as my training.
Along the way I read books on craft, took classes online, joined writing
loops, entered contests, joined some critique groups, read agent blogs and met
some awesome people in the amazing writing community who helped me. I now had
my sister as well as a great group of author friends to offer support.
I look back and realize how naïve I was and smile. I know
now that an author is never done learning and growing and improving their
skills. It’s a never ending journey—one that I love.
Then one day, after Some Like it in Handcuffs was released
in March 2012, I was asked for the first time, “Have you always wanted to
write?”
And it hit me.
Yes, yes I did. But
you know what? It wasn’t my time to
write until now. The passion and desire
were there, but I truly feel that I needed to have more life experience behind
me so that I could write.
Writing involves emotions.
Love, hate, fear, sorrow, confusion, loss…and so many more. Life is all about experiencing all of these
and learning, piling one building block on top of another and putting all that
knowledge together. It’s the same with
writing a good story. All that you’ve experienced
and lived through is going to help make your stories stronger and real.
I’m not saying a teenager or a writer in their twenties
can’t write something compelling, I’m just saying that for me, it wasn’t my
time until now.
So to all you want to be writers out there who just haven’t
found the time, or life is to busy, or other things are holding you back. Never fear.
It’s just not your time, and if your passion to write is truly there
you’ll know when the time is right. J
And if ever in doubt, think back to me. I have now changed my mantra to ‘Someday is
here and I wrote a book.” And one of the
best parts is that I’m writing several more and loving it!
What’s something in your life that you kept putting off, but
always knew you wanted to do and now you have?
Thanks for having me on your blog Ruth :)
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