Welcome to the sixth installment of “You’ll Never Believe…”
For those that don’t know what these new featurettes will be about, here is the scoop! “You’ll Never Believe…” will feature the weirdest questions or encounters that authors have been asked/had. Might be about their books or random things, like meetings in a bathroom where someone asked what brand of toilet paper they normally use. Fun stuff and inside scoops that an author would not normally share.
*squeeeee* I love secrets!!!
Ready for Cat?
You’ll Never Believe… with Cat Porter
I was trying to write a moment of deep attraction between two characters in my work in progress and it wasn’t flowing. I was distracted and simply wasn’t “feeling it.”
It was my turn to be our neighborhood’s money manager for shared expenses, so I decided to take a break and go outside and pay the septic tank guy who had arrived earlier. I quickly brushed my hair, added a dash of lip balm, and slid on my sunglasses.
As well as being a very sweet person, the septic tank guy was hot. Over six feet tall with bronzed skin, trim and muscular body, and a boyish, but sexy smile. He grew up in the USA so we would chat in English about living in a foreign country whenever we saw each other.
That afternoon he was in no hurry to finish up his job. We chatted about this and that, both of us smiling and laughing behind the safety of our sunglasses, interrupting each other by mistake often enough. I waited as he packed up his truck. Wearing only his cut-off shirt and shorts in the heat of the summer sun, watching him finish up was not a chore.
I handed him the cash as he handed me the receipt. Our fingers grazed, the flesh of our hands brushing, and he said in a voice the perfect mixture of sincerity and flirtatiousness, “You need anything else from me?”
There was a split second of stunned silence on both our parts as we stared at each other, frozen for just a beat. In that single moment, an electrical current zinged up my arm at his slight touch, my breath caught in the back of my throat, my chest tightened, and my heart raced. And just like in the books, a rush of heat flared through me at the deep tone of his voice, at those slightly insinuating words. My lips parted.
I was utterly speechless.
In the next second, realization flickered over his face and we both laughed.
“Nope, that’s it, thanks. Have a good afternoon,” I said, my face hot as I strode off. Smiling ear to ear, I headed straight for my laptop and inhaling all those hot, swirling zings of feeling that were shooting through me in all the right places.
And wrote. Oh, how grateful I was that the universe gave me just what I needed in that moment, as a writer and a woman.
Excerpt from “Wolfsgate” © Cat Porter
His hands gripped her wrists and fastened them to the table once again. She blinked up at him, trying to focus on his face. “Don’t ever talk to me about separating again,” Brandon said, his voice steady, sharp, like a commanding army officer. “This is where I want to be. With you. Inside you.” He nestled his c**k deeper inside her. Her back arched against him, a cry escaping her lips, her body immobile under his firm grip. “This is all I know right now. And I like it.”
Her eyes widened, her breath burst in and out.
“Don’t ask me what I might want or what I might think I want,” he continued. “It’s very courteous of you really.” His voice was like acid in his own ear, sizzling with bone-melting clarity through the sensual fog. He dipped his face closer to hers and smelled the scent of lavender mixed with her sweat and the heady aroma of their desire rising from her throat. He inhaled that holy scent locking it in his memory.
“I do appreciate it, but my brain doesn’t function according to the niceties any longer. All I know is that right here and right now, it’s you and me and this damned house. We shall continue to live here together. We shall restore Wolfsgate, get me healthy, deal with my cousin and my uncle, and enjoy each other. Do you understand, Lady Graven?” His tongue flicked against her trembling lower lip. “Do you agree?”
She only nodded. Her neck slackened, and her head dropped back against the wood table once more. Brandon nipped the side of her face. He would hold off confronting her on her alleged virginity just yet. Frankly, he didn’t think he would be able to control his emotions if he heard the truth, whatever the hell it was. Bloody hell, he’d just taken her on the goddamn kitchen table. No, the virginity conversation could wait for now.
This felt too damned good at the moment.
Author: Cat Porter
Date of Publication: November 20th 2014
My resurrection, they call it.
They have no bloody idea.
Shipwrecked and lost, left for dead,
Abandoned by my own family.
Drugged and addicted.
My wife saved me, brought me home.
I didn’t even know I had a wife—can I trust her?
I know I want her.
We are two of a kind—the manipulated, the tossed off, the rejected.
Bitter disappointments, painful secrets, age-old jealousies are my new shipwreck,
and my wife my new opium.
Is satisfaction to be found in revenge or revenge in satisfaction?
One thing I do know, without each other we’re both doomed.
A sensual 18th century tale of deception, revenge, and the hunger for love and absolution.
Order the Book!
About Cat Porter
CAT PORTER was born and raised in New York City, but also spent a few years in Europe and Texas along the way. As an introverted, only child, she had very big, but very secret dreams for herself. She graduated from Vassar College, was a struggling actress, an art gallery girl, special events planner, freelance writer and had all sorts of other crazy jobs all hours of the day and night to help make her dreams come true. She has two children’s books traditionally published under her maiden name. She now lives in Athens, Greece with her husband and three children, and freaks out regularly and still daydreams way too much. She is addicted to the History Channel, her iPad, her husband’s homemade red wine, really dark chocolate, and her Nespresso coffee machine. Writing keeps her somewhat sane, extremely happy, and a productive member of society.