Hi Everyone,
Today's special guest is the fantastic author, Lydia Michaels. Please leave her a comment.
Lydia
Michaels, award-winning author of contemporary, paranormal, and erotic romance
is switching things up!
You may
be familiar with her series about sexy Amish Vampyres—that’s right, AMISH—which
won The Top Bite Award in 2012 from Bitten by Paranormal Romance. You also may
know her New Castle series, a contemporary series, which takes each heroine to
the limit and proves how capable women truly are.
But
this May Lydia is switching things up a bit with her new novel, Breaking Perfect. Breaking Perfect is the first book by Ms. Michaels that comes with
a warning. Beware, readers, this one is HOT! Breaking Perfect releases May 9th
from Secret Cravings Publishing and you can get a sneak peek here!
Dr. and Mrs. Mason Davis appear to have the perfect life,
but looks can be deceiving. Liberty isn’t perfect, far from it, yet everyday
she strives to be the ideal wife. It was love at first sight for Mason, despite
all the challenges living with someone with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder might
face. And from the moment Liberty gave him her heart, he knew he was meant to
keep her safe. Mason accepts that Liberty is flawed, even when she does not. He
endeavors to keep life as orchestrated as possible for his wife, but when his
ex-lover, Sean, shows up unannounced, Mason loses a bit of his ever present
control and cracks begin to show in his perfect life.
Liberty’s just right, carefully ordered world begins to unravel
when she falls for the man who is in love with her husband. When what she wants
is the antithesis of perfect, she struggles with her desires, and fears she may
break. But breaking may be the only thing that can set Liberty free.
A beautifully told, psychological tale that redefines the
meaning of perfect and breaks all the rules of love.
WARNING: Breaking Perfect is a highly graphic erotic romance, which
contains content that may be not be suitable for all readers. This novel
examines the Dominant/submissive dynamic, explores areas touching on light
BDSM, and includes situations some readers may find offensive. This book is a
poly-amorous romance, which means it is a love story between three people
trying to find their happily ever after. There are intense sexual scenes, which
include MMF ménage, meaning the male characters may interact sexually with or
without the female heroine present.
EXCERPT:
Liberty couldn’t help but step back. The stranger standing
on her porch was enormous and no one she had ever seen before. He didn’t look
like a solicitor, but for some reason a curious, self-preserving instinct
awakened inside of her. She had the sense that this man could harm her, in more
than just a physical sense. A foreboding impression unnerved her. It somehow
signified the one thing she never dealt with well. Change. This man was more
than just a stranger passing by. The disquiet thrumming through her veins was
palpable.
Liberty held the door securely in a position so she could
shut it quickly if need be. “Can I help you?”
The man shifted awkwardly on enormous booted feet and
rooted his hands farther into his pockets. The sun had set and, like most Carolina
nights on the coast, the temperature had dropped significantly. He only wore a
threadbare white T and was likely cold. However, that threadbare T did nothing
to hide his enormous arms, corded with muscle and decorated with some sort of
tattoo peeking past the cuff.
“Mrs. Davis?”
Her searching eyes jerked from his thick arms to his face.
How did he know her name? “Yes.”
His gaze moved over her as if analyzing her as she’d been
analyzing him. Who the hell was this guy and how dare he look at her and make
her feel as if she somehow didn’t measure up to his expectations? She pressed
the door closed a little more and braced her bare foot behind it.
He cleared his throat. “I’m Sean O’Malley. Is your husband
home?”
Sean O’Malley? Sean O’Malley? Why did that name sound
familiar? “You called last night.”
“Yes, I’m the man that called.”
She didn’t want to admit Mason was out, let alone that he
wouldn’t return until morning. Not to this towering pile of muscle and tattooed
flesh, but she couldn’t lie and then fail to produce her husband. “He can’t
come to the door right now. Can I pass along a message?”
He frowned at her as if he knew she was lying. She stood a
little taller, daring him to challenge her. He most likely found her attempt to
intimidate him with her five foot stature next to his probably six and a half
foot build laughable. Something seemed to click in his mind and his expression
softened.
He held his hands out as if in peaceful surrender. “Uh, I
know you probably don’t know who I am, but I’m an old friend of Mase’s. We went
to Duke together.”
Her shoulders sagged a little in relief, but she wasn’t
wholly convinced this guy wasn’t out to do her family harm. As a doctor, anyone
could look up Mason’s records and see where he went to school.
“When? He’s never mentioned you.” She probably shouldn’t
have said that. It seemed to poke a sensitive nerve. If this was in fact her
husband’s friend, she’d just said something incredibly rude.
“Thirteen years ago. He lived at Brier House with me. We
were in the same fraternity. I played football there, but hurt my knee junior
year and my grades weren’t enough to keep me in. I ended up leaving when I was
twenty-one and finishing up at State back in Arizona.”
Libby supposed the slight lilt to his accent was what someone
from Arizona would sound like. She eyed him critically. He looked about Mase’s
age, maybe a few years younger. He definitely could have been an athlete. Even
under his loose fitting jeans she could detect heavily muscled thighs.
He smiled at her kindly, exposing a mouth full of perfectly
straight pearl white teeth. Wow, that must have been some popular fraternity.
His smile softened his hazel eyes and upgraded him from attractive to gorgeous.
A big hand ran through his dirty blonde hair causing it to stand on end and
distract Libby.
“Look, Mrs. Davis, I assure you, your husband and I were
friends, very good friends. I’ve been driving for days and I’m in need of a
hotel and a bed. Do you know when a better time to stop by might be? I hate to
be a pest, but I’m kind of just runnin’ on empty right now and didn’t want to
miss the opportunity to see how he was doing after all these years.”
She sighed. The sense of unease she first felt in his
presence faded slightly. His forbidding appearance was rendered merely
unfamiliar and therefore somewhat less alarming. Slowly acknowledging her total
fear may have been misplaced. He actually appeared to be quite genuine. “Okay,
Mr. O’Malley—”
“Sean.”
“Sean,” she amended. “I’ll be honest. Mason isn’t home
right now. Didn’t he return your call yesterday morning? I gave him your
message.”
“He never called.”
She pursed her lips. Yesterday had been a complete disaster
and that was probably why Mason neglected to tell her that this man was
actually his friend from college. She wanted to believe him, and if what he
said were true, Mason would expect her to be hospitable to his old friend. She
didn’t want to disappoint her husband. Her teeth pressed into her lower lip as
she considered her options.
“You say you’ve been driving a while?”
“Over fourteen hours. You see, my dad just passed away and
I took off right after the funeral. I really don’t have anywhere to be at the
moment and somehow wound up here. It only made sense to see if I could locate
Mase.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“It’s really okay, but thank you.”
“Um, can you…can you excuse me for just one minute? I just
need to check something. Just one minute please.” She held up her finger as she
stepped back. When he nodded she shut the door and quietly latched the chain.
She turned and ran into the kitchen, her bare feet smacking
quietly across the cool tile floor. Mason’s familiar words played through her
mind. When we are unsure what to do, we ask for help, and our problems
immediately feel smaller and easier to solve.
Picking the cordless phone up off the counter, she pressed
speed dial one as she walked into the formal living room and spied on their
visitor from behind the heavy satin drapes. Her finger ran through a slight
drift of gray dust marring the windowpanes and she made a mental note that
cleaning the windows once a week was not enough in the fall.
The phone rang and clicked over to voicemail. “Hello, you
have reached the voicemail of Dr. Mason Stevens. I’m unable to take your call
right now, but please leave a message and I will return your call as soon as
possible. If this is an emergency and you need to reach me, please contact
Faith Baptist Hospital, extension two-two-nine.”
When the phone beeped Libby said, “Babe, it’s me. Um,
there’s someone here for you and he says he’s an old friend from Duke. He seems
to know a lot about you and I don’t think he’s lying. His name’s Sean O’Malley.
He’s the man who called Friday night. Well, he’s kind of without a place to go.
He drove here all the way from Arizona or somewhere out west and needs a place
to stay. I don’t know what to do. He says his father just passed and I can’t
help but feel sorry for him. If he’s a
friend of yours I think, under the circumstances, you’d want me to welcome him
in our home.” She pressed her lips together and then mumbled, “God, I hope
that’s what you would want.” She sighed. “I’m going to let him in and offer him
something to eat. Please call me.”
When she returned to the door Sean was standing back and
gazing toward their soffits. He appeared to be admiring the exterior of their
home. It was really getting chilly out. She could have called the hospital, but
if Mason wasn’t answering the phone it was because he was likely with a patient
and that was more important than her needing approval. Maybe.
“Um, Sean?”
“Yes.”
He looked at her with those piercing hazel eyes and her
thoughts scattered like autumn leaves in the wake of a sudden gale. She shook
her head and tried to focus. “Um, Mase is going to call back any minute. Would
you like to come in? Could I fix you something to eat?”
He stilled for a moment as if considering if the offer was
a good idea or not. “Uh, sure. Thank you, Mrs. Davis.”
“You can call me Libby.”
“Libby?”
“Yeah, it’s short for Liberty, like the bell.”
He laughed. “Cute. Thank you, Libby.”
She stepped back and let him enter their home with one last
hope that she wasn’t making a mistake. As he stepped past her she looked up at
his hulking size and admitted that if she was, she was a dead woman.
****
Sean entered the home. An ominous chill crested his
shoulders as though he were crossing into a secret place he might never escape
from unscathed. So many insecurities came rushing to the surface. His father’s
taunting voice intruded on his calm. Stifling the unwanted memories, he focused
on the little woman in front of him.
Mase’s wife wasn’t beastly. As a matter of fact, she was
perhaps one of the most adorable females he ever laid eyes on.
She was a little thing and he had the unusual urge to
lecture her for inviting a strange man, twice her size, into her home when Mase
wasn’t around. What was she thinking? He agreed to come in only because he had
the sudden ridiculous fear that some other beggar might come knocking and feed
her a line of bullshit and trusting little Libby might end up inviting someone
truly dangerous into her home. Oddly, something about her tapped into his
protective instincts. This little girl needed someone to keep an eye on her.
The house entrance was ri-god-damn-diculous. He let out a
slow whistle that echoed all the way up to the thirty-foot ceilings. It was
homey, but also sort of like a museum. Nothing seemed out of place. Maybe the
missus just finished cleaning.
“The kitchen’s this way,” she announced and he followed.
She only came up to his midsection, not even reaching his
chest. Her feet were bare and her toes were painted pink. Girlie. She wore cute
frayed daisy dukes and a sweater that hung precariously low over her one arm.
Her bare shoulder hinted she had nothing underneath. Wild golden curls bounced
with each step she took. Kudos to Mase for at least finding a woman with a
bangin’ body. If he were going to switch teams, he clearly made out in the
draft.
Sean had the impression of lots of white and open space. He
was too busy sizing up his old friend’s wife to really take in the house. He
was sure it was what American dreams were made of if Mase’s knack to adhere to
pursuing a goal was still as sharp as it once was. If anything, his boy had an
incredible ability for sticking to his guns and keeping his word. He promised
one day he would have an easy life with a good partner and nice home. Sean had
no doubt he had walked into just that.
Libby stopped and Sean plowed right into her. Nice.
His hands reflexively grabbed her shoulders so he didn’t knock her down and
hoped he didn’t trample her little feet “I’m so sorry.”
She quickly extricated herself from his grip and turned to
face him. She took a step back and smiled, but he could tell he made her
incredibly uncomfortable. Nice move, bonehead.
“I wasn’t looking where we were going. I hope I didn’t step
on your feet.”
She looked down at her feet and back at him. Her hand held
a cordless phone he hadn’t noticed earlier and she tapped it against her thigh
nervously.
“Maybe I should just go,” he suggested. “Thank you for the
hospitality, but maybe it would be best if you just tell Mase I stopped by—”
“No!” she said sharply, as if the idea of him leaving was
more frightening than the idea of him staying. She softened. “I mean, no,
please stay. My husband would want you to stay. Let me make you something to
eat. Why don’t you have a seat at the counter?”
She seemed a bit jumpy, so he nodded and began to pull out
one of the three stools tucked under the marble countertop. This kitchen was
like something out of the rich and famous.
“Not that one!”
Sean froze. What just happened? He didn’t move, but looked
at her from the corner of his eye for clarification. She took a deep breath and,
in a more controlled voice, said, “Not that stool. That one is Mason’s. I think
you would be happier on the third stool.”
She smiled as if the third stool was the best stool in the
whole world and surely sitting there would bring him great rewards. Okaaaay.
He didn’t give a shit if he sat on the fucking floor at this point. He was so tired he could weep.
He sat and she began to pull items down from cabinets she
could barely reach. More than once he caught himself admiring the creamy slice
of her ass that peeked out past the hem of her shorts when she went up on her
tiptoes. A gentleman would offer to help, but something had him hesitating.
Plus, he liked watching her. Sean was a people person. He liked sitting back
and learning people not by what they claimed they were about, but by how they
actually acted.
She made fast work of making two turkey sandwiches for him.
He found it curious the way she made them, each of them one step at a time,
almost mechanically. Her lips silently counted: one, two, three, slices of
turkey then did the same for the next.
She placed one piece of Swiss on top of the meat and used a
knife to carefully cut off the two inches that hung over the edge. Doing the
same to the other, she then lined the discarded pieces beside the bread and
lined up two more slices of cheese. Her fingers squared them up and sliced the
two pieces of cheese so that when placed with the overhanging pieces they would
be exactly the same size as the slice below. He wondered why she didn’t just
cut one identical piece to the lower one, or better yet, just throw it all on
there.
As soon as the cheese spectacle was done she grabbed the
remaining scraps of cheese that apparently didn’t fit and moved to the sink.
She dropped them down the drain and turned the water on so hot steam began to
rise from the stainless basin. What a waste. He would’ve eaten those pieces. He
was about to tell her so, but was cut off from speaking when the roar of the
garbage disposal clicked on. He was going to say something when it clicked off,
but then she clicked it on again. And off. And on twice more. It was beginning
to sound like Morse code and he forgot what he wanted to say.
She moved back to the sandwiches and made an X with mustard
then placed a dot inside two of the triangular mustarded off sections and a
line in the other two. She did the exact same thing to the other slice of
bread.
He frowned at her. His mouth was hanging open in confusion
by the time she held slices of lettuce at eye level and carefully tore away
edges until they were as identical as they could get. Mason’s wife was
definitely a weird bird.
She smiled when she finally seemed satisfied with the green
leaves. The manicured roughage was strategically centered on the sandwich. The
scraps went into the disposal. The same Morse code was applied for what seemed
to be proper grinding.
She didn’t talk while she worked. She was so focused Sean
didn’t know how she could have managed a conversation. It was like she was in
another place and had forgotten he was watching her. The two sandwiches were
sliced diagonally and organized like a pinwheel on a plate. She poured a glass
of juice from the fridge for him and opened a drawer to retrieve a perfectly
folded white linen napkin.
He sat back thinking she would hand the plate to him, but
she turned and disappeared into some closet on the far wall. She returned with
a glass jar filled with pretzel sticks. After twisting off the metal lid and
retrieving four perfect pretzels and throwing away a broken one, she laid each
stick between each sandwich slice.
Out of a bowl organized so nicely he mistook it for a
decoration, she carefully selected an orange and placed it by the plate. She
went to the closet and came back with another orange to replace the one she
just removed. Her full lips silently counted out six oranges. Her tongue was a
deep shade of pink and Sean blinked that transient thought away. Using a large
kitchen knife she methodically cut the fruit into six even slices and placed
them in a small glass bowl so they resembled a star or a flower or some shit.
He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to go through all that trouble, but he
was sort of interested to see what she would do next. She stepped back and eyed
her creations and nodded, apparently satisfied.
He leaned back as Libby carried the plate, bowl, napkin,
and cup over to where he sat and adjusted each item until the napkin was
perfectly straight, the cup directly above it, the bowl exactly parallel from
the cup to the left of the plate, and the plate turned so that the straight
edges of the sandwiches formed a cross rather than an X.
“Bon appetit!”
He was sort of speechless. “Uh, thank you. It looks great.”
She beamed at him. Mase’s wife really had a beautiful face.
She was more cute than glamorous, bright blue eyes with soft blonde lashes,
pink full lips, and a pert little nose. She looked like an all American girl,
but also like no one he’d ever seen before. He took a bite and shut his eyes as
he groaned.
“This is delicious,” he said with a full mouth.
She nodded happily and began cleaning the counter where
she’d made his dinner. He ate in silence and continued to watch. The cleanup
was as much of a production as the preparation. She seemed to have a method for
everything, the way she swept up the crumbs, the way she disposed of things,
and washed the dishes. He winced when he noticed how red her hands were after
washing the cutting board under steaming hot water, but she didn’t seem to
notice. She also filled a spray bottle with piping hot water and used it to
clean the counter after she bleached it. The clinical scent of disinfectant was
so strong it permeated his nostrils and tainted the flavor of his lunch.
Afraid she’d burn her hands again, he offered to wash his
own dishes, but that had the effect of a record skidding to a stop in the
middle of a party. He realized immediately he’d overstepped and quickly
muttered that she never mind. What the fuck kind of girl did Mase marry? Was
this like some sort of Stepford shit?
Also keep an eye out for
Lydia Michaels’ upcoming debut with Penguin Publishing this fall, as she
introduces The Surrender Trilogy, selected as one of the hottest eBooks of
2013!
Buy Links:
Kobo:
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