You guys! (I realize I’m almost always excited about this but… it’s exciting shit, okay?!) Today we have the darling Louisa Edwards guesting with us! Totally random because she’s so awesome. She’s even traveling, but has worked us in. And she’s hosting a giveaway. So, even if you have no idea who she is, I think you’re getting a clue of the yay, right?!

Quick intro – Louisa Edwards writes hot contemporary romances, with a culinary element. Her current book is part of the Rising Star Chef series, and it just came out this past Tuesday! Ms. Louisa is also the sweetest thing – so show her some love!

I’m writing this post from a hotel room in San Francisco, looking out a rain-spattered window toward the choppy, gray waters of the bay. For someone who lives in Austin, the damp chill of the fog outside makes me want to curl up under a blanket with a mug of hot chocolate and a steamy read!

In case spring hasn’t exactly sprung where you are, either, I’m going to share an exclusive (and very warming!) snippet from my newest release, Hot Under Pressure. This hot moment takes place right in the waters of San Francisco bay, on a clear, moonlit night when our hero returns to the sheltered cove where he first met the heroine more than a decade ago, and finds her swimming in her underwear. Naturally, he goes in after her. And then he…well. See for yourself!

_________

Skye stood there, trembling in the moonlight, the milky paleness of her naked curves glowing like a beacon against the darkness. The sodden scraps of her underwear concealed nothing, clinging to her lovingly. And her expression…

She was broken wide open, like an egg dropped on the floor.

Ferocious need swept through him—the need to touch her, to erase the memories from her eyes, the sadness from her trembling mouth, to take her, to re-stake his claim on her.

Even if it was for the last time.

Beck didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about anything.

Framing Skye’s soft cheeks between his palms, Beck brought his mouth down to hers.

It was like taking a deep breath of cool air after hours of working in the galley kitchen of a submarine, with no ventilation and no windows and no way out.

He just inhaled her, taking the freshness and sweetness of her into himself and savoring the sugar-lemon taste of her mouth. Skye opened for him on a gasp, her small hands coming up hesitantly to clutch at his waist, and Beck immediately seized the tactical advantage by thrusting his tongue between her pink lips.

She molded her body to his, the soft ripeness of her flesh a perfect contrast to his hard, tensed muscles. Beck swept his hands down the sides of her neck and over her shoulders, curling around to her back to press her even closer.

The chill of her skin was replaced by a warm flush. He thought he could actually feel the hot blood pumping through her veins, pushed through her by the rapid beating of her heart.

He ate at her mouth hungrily, and she met his attack with a ferocious need of her own. Her hands, no longer hesitant, gripped and pressed firmly. She seemed to be trying to touch as much of him as possible without breaking the kiss. Beck approved, and twisted his torso like a cat, trying to give her more skin to play with.

He needed to get closer to her.

They were still standing in knee-deep water, their feet sucked into the marshy Bay floor, making it difficult to maneuver.

Not that Beck was about to let that stop him.

Bending down, he got one arm behind Skye’s knees and plucked her out of the muck. Primal satisfaction filled him as he pulled her in against his chest.

At some point in the last ten years, though, Skye had forgotten everything he’d taught her about being swept off her feet. She gave a little yelp as the world tilted around her, and flailed hard enough that he almost dropped her before getting a firmer grip on her wet limbs.

“Put me down! You’ll throw your back out, Henry, I’m too heavy for this.”

“Chill,” he told her. “The issue is that you’re all slippery at the moment. Other than that?”
He hitched her up easily, until her mouth was in kissing distance again.
Stealing a quick one off her parted lips, he grinned down at her. “Other than that, you’re perfect.”

She melted faster than butter in a hot sauté pan. He could feel the exact moment when she forgot to be afraid of being dropped or worried about her weight as all the tension left her body.

He’d never understood what she was so worried about, anyway. No woman had ever felt better in his arms.

If that little taste of two hot chefs steaming up San Francisco Bay wasn’t enough for you, there’s a longer excerpt from the beginning of the book on my website here.

Or you can just go ahead and read the whole thing, which includes plenty of chef-on-chef action, an interracial bromance, mouthwatering recipes, a romantic subplot between a young rock star and an older French woman, and the most intensely emotional love story I’ve ever written.

Don’t believe me? Answer this question in the comments below for a chance to win a free signed copy of Hot Under Pressure:

What’s the most unusual place you’ve ever kissed someone? (And I’m not talking about the elbow, here. Give me a sexy/funny/exciting setting!)