Tessa's Temptations

At what point does a lady of riper years have to stop wearing a two-piece? A high ponytail? A mini skirt? A smoky eye? These are all questions that pop up when you are a woman my age. In your 20’s you are heedless, reckless in your youth. By 30, you’ve matured a little and have perhaps strived to adopt a classier look—you’ve also invested heavily in sunscreen. By 40, you still have it—if you’re lucky— but have begun to detect your glow slippage, cracks in the surface etc. Some women panic. I have chosen not to. However, it has occurred to me that maybe it’s time to ditch the two-piece. Should I invest in some totally blah racer-back unitard? Perhaps a 1920’s bathing costume— a garbage bag? Nahhhhhhhhh. I’m going to carry on with the boobs and butt front and center program. You know why? Because it’s more fun. Besides, I have recently discovered everyone at the gym is just looking at their cell phones anyway. They wouldn’t notice if I swam nude in tube socks while wea

When an ice queen's frosty innards melt into a puddle exciting things can happen. Like...well...snuggling for one.  Only a handsome strong cowboy could cause such a liquid state and let me tell you snuggling wasn't all these two were up to, but you'll just have to content yourself with a little post coital excerpt from my new novel  The Demon Duchess Enjoy! It had sure been a doozy of an evening. The woman lying across him had displayed everything from murderous rage to wanton passion. He idly stroked her back as she slept. Who knew ice queens liked to snuggle. She seemed so trusting and soft right now. Had she snuggled with her precious Trevor like this? A sharp jealousy clenched at his chest. He pushed the unpleasant thoughts from his brain and concentrated instead on her feminine scent. I’ll slip off nestled in a field of fancy flowers… He roused just after dawn with a mouthful of fragrant hair and a silky ass pressed into his erection. He stifled a groan a

I beg to differ. I mean look at Margot Robbie. That is one hot librarian bun. I have illustrated just how sexy a bun can be in the prologue of my new novel The Demon Duchess (out now, excerpt below). The chignon (fancy name for bun) has always been one of my favorite hairstyles. I’m such a fan of the elegant coif that I have built an entire character around it. And I love her almost as much as I love her perfect low-riding knot. Ah, to wear a chignon—to have hair so silky and pale that it shines like platinum—to be an ice queen like my beloved Baroness, with slender proportions and a cool wit. And oh, her fascinating coil. My heroine may have a fascinating coil, but she is also a giant pain in the ass. No one knows this more than her horse trainer, Jack Johnson, who is trying to make love to her. If I had a man like Jack Johnson in my bed, I wouldn’t be so difficult, but then again I’m no baroness. Even though he had just agreed not to touch her, his hand went to her hair