Today is the our blog stop for Tell Me A Fantasy by Tamara Lush.
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Tell Me A Fantasy
Synopsis
Samantha Citrouille’s anxiety won’t stop her from attending
London Fashion Week and collecting a lifetime industry award. After all, when
iconic designer Karl Lagerfield requests your presence at an exclusive party,
you have to jump on a plane. Even if you’re deathly afraid of flying.
While white-knuckling it on the turbulent flight from Florida,
Samantha's seated in business class next to a handsome stranger named Colin.
His low, smooth voice helps calm her nerves. But her panic reaches its peak
when the plane is forced to land in Iceland due to mechanical failure.
Distraught, she's horrified to discover that all hotels are booked due to a
summer solstice festival. As the world’s top designer of tropical resort
clothing, Samantha _ known as Sam C. to her legions of fans _ is used to luxury
at her Palm Beach estate, not sleeping on airport benches with only a pashmina
wrap for a blanket.
Her impossibly sexy seat-mate Colin kindly offers to share his
accommodations, because a business contact owns a sleek pied-à-terre in
Reykjavik. Samantha, emotionally wrung out, agrees for what she thinks is one
quick night.
A freak volcano eruption forces Samantha and Colin to stay in
the Icelandic capitol for a long weekend, and the two have nothing better to do
than share cocktails, bare their past sins in conversation, and indulge in each
other under the midnight sun.
But things become complicated after their idyllic fantasy
weekend together. Colin, a self-described modern-day rake, is sure he’s finally
found the woman of his dreams. But Samantha, who has her own fears and ghosts
of the past, isn’t so certain. She'd rather fly around the world, twice, than
have her heart broken again.
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Excerpt
I
toe-heeled my black ballet flats off and gingerly stepped onto the cold airport
floor. Tiptoeing, I avoided the spills, the spots, and the grime dotting the
linoleum.
Balancing
on the balls of my feet, trying not to focus on the germs and the smell of
God-knows-what body odor lingering in the air, I bent to pick up my shoes, then
took a few quick steps toward the security line.
Of all
the things I hated about flying, the TSA line was far from the worst. I
shivered as I unwrapped the black pashmina from my shoulders. Normally it would
be a pleasure to precisely fold such a luxurious piece of fabric, but I stuffed
it into a ball and into the container. My long hair crackled and levitated with
static electricity, and I twisted it into a messy bun at my nape.
“I’ll be
there around seven a.m.,” the man next to me brayed into his phone. My bin was
nearing the conveyor belt, and I tiptoed along, sliding the cubby next to my
hip onto the steel rollers.
“Ma’am,
your laptop. Get it outta there.”
What
about a please? Did the security guard have to address me so brusquely? It had
been years since I’d flown. Was this how people acted in airports now?
“Goodness,”
I whispered under my breath. I looked at the guy on the phone, then to the
conveyor belt helplessly. I needed another plastic tub, but the stack was
several feet away. The phone guy—a doughy, road-warrior type in a white oxford
and khaki pants— didn’t notice me at all and was of no help. Get off the stupid phone. A tall man
behind him paid attention to my plight, wrestled a bin from the stack, and
offered it in my direction.
“Thank
you.” I reached around the guy on the phone and took the bin.
I heaved
a sigh. I didn’t want to travel across the pond. Didn’t want to leave my Palm
Beach estate. But when Karl Lagerfeld summons you to London Fashion Week for a
lifetime achievement award, you say yes. Even if you’re deathly afraid of
flying.
I opened
my custom black Birkin bag and reached for my MacBook Air. The laptop went into
the empty bin, and I set the bag in a second bin. So many bins.
“You
know what I’m going to do to you when I get there?” The doughy guy next to me
chuckled lasciviously, and I heard the giggle of a woman through the phone. Why
couldn’t people stop yakking in public? God, I hated technology. I tried to use
it as little as possible and usually succeeded. That was the benefit of having
assistants. And being rich, I supposed.
I inhaled
in disapproval.
“I’m
going to eat your pussy.”
I gasped
and looked up with huge eyes, pressing a hand to my chest. My fingers squeezed
the pearls around my neck.
How vulgar. In the TSA line at the Miami
International Airport, no less. The man laughed into the phone. “Yeah, baby.
Wait for daddy.”
The oral
sex-lover didn’t notice my offense, but the tall man behind him did. We locked
eyes. His were blue, azure and beautiful. I grimaced in horror, and the
blue-eyed man grinned and then chuckled. Somehow, the terrible guy between us
didn’t notice the mocking or the disgust.
Enter Tamara’s Giveaway
Tamara Lush Bio
During the day, Tamara Lush writes news as a journalist with The Associated Press. At night, she writes fictional romance tales about complicated, sexy men and the women who love them.
Her first full-length novel, HOT SHADE, was published in September 2015 with Boroughs Publishing Group. INTO THE HEAT is her second full-length novel and it’s also with Boroughs.
TELL ME A STORY is Tamara’s first novella. It’s the first episode of The Story Series, a five-novella serial about a bookstore owner who reads erotica to a billionaire during a literary event in Florida.
When Tamara isn’t reporting, writing or reading, she’s doing yoga, cooking for her Italian husband or chasing her dogs on a beach on Florida's Gulf Coast. She loves connecting with people on social media.
Connect with Tamara
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