Brodie Beaumont – “I’m not going to pretend to be somebody I’m not. I like who I am, and I don’t need you or anyone else judging me. I’m not going to lie; I like women, and I don’t mind that they use me. Besides, I’m never really sure just who is using whom. Sure, I have a past, but who doesn’t? And maybe that’s why I act the way I do. But that’s neither here nor there, because I really don’t care.”
Gabrielle Demeres – “I’d learned the hard way what type of guy Brodie Beaumont truly was. His crude seduction tactics earned him a slap to the face after he actually groped my breasts while attempting to kiss me. I can’t say I was looking forward to another encounter with Brodie Beaumont. As my eyes fell upon a large pair of men’s DC Court shoes facing right toward me, I reluctantly looked up to find the man himself in all his yummy glory standing three feet in front of me, frowning. Yeah, I know, I had slapped him and declined his not so eloquent offer, but the guy was still hot despite his lack of discretion in the romance department.”
Forced to spend time together, Gabrielle and Brodie face the unthinkable on what was supposed to be the most memorable day of her best friend’s and his brother’s life. Would they be capable of overcoming their aversion for one another while coping with their own troubled pasts? Or is their hostility just skating the fine line between love and hate?
I grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania, spending most of my time daydreaming or playing around in the mud. I grew out of the mud play, well, most of the time, a good soak in the mud is always fun. I still daydream often and sometimes my daydreams interrupt my daydreams. So, I write to remember them. If I didn't write, I think my mind would explode from an overload of fantasy and weirdness. To the annoyance of my friends and family, my characters sometimes become a part of my world. During my childhood, I would frequently get in trouble in school for daydreaming. Eventually, my vivid imagination paid off and I had the privilege of writing and co-directing my sixth-grade class play--a dreadful disaster, though not from my writing, of course. I'm pretty sure it was the acting.
I enjoy writing about characters living in small quaint towns and sometimes they tend to lean toward the unusual and edgy.
My paranormal playing field delves into a different milieu, abandoning vampires and werewolves, but not discounting them. Someday I might like to write a novel about vamps and those furry creatures. But for now I like the bizarre mixed with romance. A strong hero or heroine confronted with extraordinary forces of nature, powers and capabilities gets my blood running hot as does a steamy contemporary romantic suspense.
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Excerpt
The buzz coming from under my pillow pounded between my ears like thunder. I’d set my phone on vibrate, and it was determined to ruin a perfect slumbering morning. I stuck my hand under the cushion attempting to silence it, but only managed to knock the offending instrument onto the floor.
The girl beside me pulled herself into a cute little ball with her knees hugging her chest, and her adorable little behind shoved against my cock. She moaned something about it still being dark outside. No shit. I frowned, and rolling over reached for my phone, unfortunately catching a glimpse at the digital clock on the nightstand in the process. A glaring red four-fifty-nine assaulted my eyes with brilliance that even Einstein would have been shocked by. The brightness made it impossible to determine who in God’s name was sending me a text so early in the morning.
I let the phone slip from my fingers to the floor without bothering to read the message. There was nothing in this world so important at five o’ fucking clock in the morning that couldn’t wait. I rolled back toward the hottie. “Sorry, baby,” I whispered into her neck, and showered her with little kisses there, wishing I could remember her name. Casandra, Clarista, Carry? It was one of those C names or was it K? No matter. Normally, I was pretty good with names. I’d never once called a woman the wrong name, but this girl had such an uncommon, yet so close to common name I’d had trouble all night long, and had to resort to calling her baby or sweetheart. I hated using those terms of endearment because none of the girls I’d been hooking up with lately were someone I’d like to think of as endearing. “Go back to sleep,” I said, sort of more of an order to myself than to her.
When she scooted back against me, moving her hips the way she did, she all of a sudden seemed very endearing to me. I rocked with her, closing my eyes, shutting out the visions of the bedroom I was in with its dark purple wall and massive black and white picture of a nude couple embracing on the adjacent pale pink wall. Lacy, pale pink curtains hung in the window. Not my room. This was a commonality for me recently, waking up to find myself in unfamiliar, feminine surroundings, since privacy at home had become an issue. That explained the bright digital clock beside the bed—not something I would ever own.
Cassandra, Clarista, Castalia, or whatever the fuck her name was, let out a sexy moan before turning around and wrapping her hands around me. Stroking and squeezing oh so firmly just enough to make a guy not only forget where he was, but not care. God, it felt so good, but not as good as when her tongue slid over the tip right before taking me in her mouth.
I must admit, my breath hitched as the tip of my cock hit the back of her throat, and I caught the slight gagging sound she made. “Oh, baby. That feels so good.” Actually, this Cassandra or whatever, was a bit mediocre in this particular department, but I wasn’t about to complain. Any attempt at a blowjob was better than none at all in my book.
This was my life. I wasn’t complaining. Nope, not at all. Today was starting off much like any other day lately; lazy, with a little romping between the sheets. It got my blood running, and today I needed to be on my game. Today, or tonight rather, was my brother’s bachelor party, and I was hosting it.
Buzzzzzzzz.
My phone again. “Hey, baby. Give me a minute will ya?” I groaned, pulling myself out from the soft sucking and into the cold air. Shit. What was wrong with me? I leaned over the edge of the bed and picked up my phone. This time I read the message. Only it wasn’t a message. It was an alert I’d set on my phone as a reminder. Pick up Gabby from airport. My brother’s soon to be bride’s maid of honor—and a major pain in my side—was flying in this morning at six-twenty, and I’d been volunteered by Jackson to pick her up. Thanks a whole hell of a lot, Bro.
“Fuck.”
“What’s the matter, Brodie?” she asked, licking her lips and grabbing for me like she’d just had her favorite lollipop taken away.
“I gotta go.”
“What? Why?”
“Sorry, baby.” God, what was her name? “I promised to pick up a friend from the airport.” Friend was a huge stretch of the English vocabulary when it came to Gabby. Gabriella Demers was not my friend in any sense of the word. In fact, she hated me.
The last time I saw Gabby, which was about a year ago when she’d spent a few nights in my house while visiting with Lena, she’d told me to go bungee jumping from a bridge without the bungee cord. Ouch. All I’d done to deserve that nice suggestion was tried my damnedest to show the woman a good time. Of course, my idea of a good time and hers were completely different, which I found out the second my lips brushed gently against hers and my hand strategically covered her left breast. She’d shoved me away so fast my poor lips never got the chance to make even a hint of a memory of hers. Right before she told me to go jump off the bridge, she’d slapped me and said I wasn’t her type. It was when I insisted that I was that she got nasty about it. Pffft. I was every woman’s type. But hey, I copped a clue right away and backed off the minute she shoved me away, she didn’t need to make an imprint of her hand on my face. There was something disturbing about that chick.
I shook the memory away and grabbed the waist of the one I was with, pulling her back against me. “I wish I could stay, baby, but I did promise my brother.”
“Can we hook up again tonight?” she asked.
“Sorry, no can do. Got a bachelor party to host.” Glad for once I had a bona fide excuse at the tip of my tongue.
“Aw. What about tomorrow night? I’ll only be in town for another couple of days.” Relationships just the way I liked them. Short and noncommittal. “We could have a replay of last night, maybe even make a movie so I have something to remember you by.”
Make a movie? No way. I had a fine physique and all, and I may be promiscuous, very free with my organs, some might even say I’m a man slut, but I didn’t need my ass in a starring role plastered all over the internet. “Love to, except I have commitments this weekend.” Besides, I’d never spent the night with the same woman more than twice, and this one was barely worth the one I’d already spent.
I quickly pulled up my pants and shrugged into my shirt. I pulled on my boots and grabbed my phone, and as I headed for the door she purred out. “Call me?”
“Sure, baby.” I lied as I shut the door, and deleted her number from my phone. I never saved them, and I never answered my phone when the number came up without a name attached.
Susan's Other Titles
*The Beaumont Brothers*
Beautifully Used Book 2 Coming Soon
*Whisper Cape Series*
Susan Griscom writes paranormal and contemporary romance. She's hooked on sexy romances and is a huge fan of superheroes and bad boys confronted with extraordinary forces of nature, powers, and abilities beyond the norm mixed with steamy romance, of course. 
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