Hot Nights In St. Blaise - Roman Candles

Madison: Macy Beck is back with the latest installment of the Hot Nights in St. Blaise series. Welcome back, Macy.
Macy: Thank you! It’s great to be here.
Madison:Enough with the pleasantries. You promised me St. Blaise’s answer to George Clooney, now hand over the goods.
Macy: Oh, he’s good. At least, that’s what I hear. But while Mario Debrizzio may look like George Clooney, he’s far more domesticated. Because being charming, handsome, and successful isn’t enough for our Mario. He renovated one of those big Victorian homes on the square with just a little help from his friends. And he cooks. Oh Lord, the man cooks. *fans face* Is it warm in here?
Madison: Easy, Mace.
Macy: But I haven’t told you the best part.
Madison: What’s that?
Macy: The man was looking to settle down. Can you believe it? All that and he wants to get married. Of course, he picked Sophie Bernard, the one woman in St. Blaise with absolutely no desire to get hitched, so Mario has his work cut out for him.
Here’s the setup:
     Pediatrician Mario Debrizzio is a single woman’s dream come true. He’s successful and confident, owns a gorgeous old home that cries out for a family, and is as talented in the kitchen as he is in the bedroom.
     But when he loses his cool on the job, Dr. Debrizzio finds himself front and center with SBRMC’s chief headshrinker. Dr. Sophie Bernard is more than pleasant to look at, but the last thing he wants is to let the woman who has already messed with his head go poking around in there.
     No amount of distance can keep Dr. Sophie Bernard safe from the memory of the scorching kiss she and Mario shared at the SBRMC Christmas party. The man was hot as a firecracker and every bit as dangerous, and she was…married. Technically.
     Long after her divorce is finalized, Sophie fights attraction. But when Mario holds a flame to her fuse, her fear and frustration explodes into passion.
And here is a snapshot:
     Sophie lowered her fork, eyeing him speculatively as she reached for the generous glass of wine he’d poured but she hadn’t yet tasted. He’d envied the gossamer-thin goblet she cradled to her chest through the nickel tour he’d given her. Part of him wished the pricey pinot would leap from the bowl so he could suck each and every drop from her silky, figure-skimming top. The other part just wanted to get her naked as soon as humanly possible. He held her inquisitive stare and fought the urge to pounce.
     “How are you still single?” she asked at last.
     Not an unusual question. Right on cue, he whipped out the chuckle, a sheepish smile, and the standard response he kept on hand specifically for the occasion. “Hard to say. I’m a hell of a catch.”
     Fork forgotten and wine glass abandoned, she blew past his flip response without so much as a smirk. “You’re handsome, you cook, and you have this beautiful old house. You’re a doctor.” He had to laugh when she dismissed the import of his profession with a negligent wave of her hand. “A Pediatrician, no less,” she added with a smirk.
     Since she appeared to be warming to the subject, he buried his nose in his wine glass and muttered, “You’re right. I’d totally sleep with me.”
     “Hell, sleeping with you is a no-brainer.” She leaned back in her chair, narrowing her eyes as he raised his eyebrows. “I’m trying to detect the fatal flaw.”
     “Fatal flaw?”
     “There has to be some reason you’ve made it so far unattached.”
     “Can we go back to the no-brainer part?”
     “Not now. Later,” she answered with a sly smile.
     He nodded slowly, as if giving her theory serious consideration. But he wasn’t. All but one of his synapses stopped firing about thirty seconds back, and the only one left was intent on making her no-brainer a reality.
     “Come here.”
     Arched eyebrows jumped, but she didn’t. “Maybe it’s your bossy streak.”
     A smile quirked his lips but he quickly squelched the urge. He fixed her with what Shelli Ann Jones called his ‘inscrutable doctor stare’ and waited. When she didn’t make a move he added a simple, “Please.”
     He’d perfected the pitch of his entreaty in Theresa Ann Scaffio’s basement rec room the summer after he turned seventeen. Sophie sighed and placed her napkin by her plate, proving that his tactics hadn’t lost their oomph.
     Sophie fixed him with a no-nonsense stare as she pushed her chair back from the table. “I bet that works for you every time.”
     Her glare may have been accusatory, but she was moving in his direction, and that was all that counted as far as he was concerned. She drew to a halt beside his chair and he returned her wary gaze. “I’m a workaholic. A little OCD in some areas, but it doesn’t extend to most housekeeping,” he began.
     She blinked, cocking her head in a silent signal for him to continue the litany. In a matter of minutes they were going to be as intimate as two people could be, but while he had no trouble baring his body, he’d never felt so compelled to show someone his heart as he was with her.
Madison: Okay, sign me up. I want him too.
Macy: I’m afraid Sophie has him wrapped up tight, but yeah. I know what you mean.
Madison: Tell me, are all the men in St. Blaise as irresistible as the ones you’ve introduced us to so far?
Macy: All of these men and women are great people in their own ways, but to be honest, there are a few I wouldn’t have given much of a second thought until I saw them fall in love…
     Doesn’t matter whether you’re a man or a woman, black or white, short or tall, people in love just glow from the inside out. It sounds like a cliché, but I’m a photographer and I know lighting. Love makes you beautiful.
Madison:  Now you’re making me all misty.
Macy: You think this is misty, wait until next month. Alex Stephenson and Jenny Clyburn are a testament to the healing power of love. And hot monkey sex.
Madison: Hot monkey sex?
Macy: Pure speculation on my part, but I’ll volunteer to take ID photos at the DMV if I’m wrong. These people are having hot monkey sex, and lots of it.
Madison:  I look forward to next month’s story of healing and, ummm.... hot monkey sex.
Macy: I’ll be here!
Madison: And remember, Roman Candles by Maggie Wells is available in all ebook formats at the Turquoise Morning Press bookstore or your favorite online retailer. For more information on the Hot Nights in St. Blaise series, readers can visit Maggie Wells

1 comment:

  1. Have I told you how much I love this cover? *fans self* Again, such a fun interview! I can't wait for August, Maggie!