Welcome, Lea Bronsen!

The Perfect Shoot (Hot Model Mine 1) by Lea Bronsen

 

Thank you so much for having me on your blog!

Who hasn’t been infatuated with a sexy poster boy – actor, pop star, or football hero – even though he was unobtainable? The heroine in my Hot Model Mine series is a thriving author and hard-working mother nearing her forties. Tough, independent, and having long ago lost faith in love, she dismisses her crush on the cover model of her book to protect herself. What then can she do when that gorgeous young man surprisingly falls for her, too?

I hope you enjoy this tale of ‘impossible’ love, dead-honest and written with my heart.

Editor's pickLea Bronsen cover

BLURB:

When Andrea Johnson, writing as author Cindy Vega, signed up for a Meet & Greet with the cover model of her latest book, she didn’t expect sparks to fly. Yushka is dangerously good-looking and too young for her. But their connection is instantaneous, and during a photo shoot with the two, the photographer picks up on their growing attraction. Seeing the potential for the cover photo of the century, he decides to push their comfort limits…

 

EXCERPT:

An assistant calls Yushka’s name. Bare-chested, the Asian hunk appears from a group of models, strolls to the spotlights, and waits in front of the camera with the confident stance of a professional.

The whole place quiets as if in awe. He’s unbelievably beautiful with his tanned, bulging muscles and washboard-abs-to-die-for. When photographer Lemaître asks him to undo his hair, a black waterfall lands on his shoulders and down his back. A few muffled feminine squeals fill the silence.

One by one, authors whose books he appears on get a few pictures taken with him in flattering positions, wrapping their arms around his back or swallowed up in his embrace, beaming like schoolgirls at their first prom.

Jealousy rips through me so violently I can barely breathe, but my time is up soon, and I hate that even more. I’m non-photogenic, and seeing pictures of myself makes me sick. I’ve chosen a sexy, black top and matching short skirt for the occasion, but looking my best doesn’t help. My stomach ties in a knot.

“Cindy Vega,” an assistant calls.

Fuck, that’s me. I’m dead.

“Go,” Laurie says, giving me a small push.

All muscles tense, I leave my safe corner and join Yushka. He greets me with a placid face, but from the warmth in his pupils, I get a feeling he’s glad to see me. Side by side, narrowing our eyes from the piercing light, we face Lemaître and wait for orders.

Damn. Being so near Yushka’s naked torso is unbearable, as is the heat from the lamps shining on us. Sweat beads roll down the sides of my chest, between my breasts. He endures, too. A thin film of sweat coats his golden skin, making it glow, but he doesn’t seem bothered.

Lemaître clears his throat. “Bon. Stand a little closer. Cindy, this is for Eden Luna Publishing’s website. Officially, we want authors happily meeting their cover models, but off the record, we want sensual, we want heat. Readers will get off seeing your pictures like they do reading your books.”

Stiff as a rod, I nod agreement. I’d half expected this. Problem is, I hate being in the spotlight with so many people watching, and I hate the notion of having my photo all over the internet.

“Sooo,” he continues, “I will ask you to just stand like this, facing me, and smile. That is all. Yushka knows what he has to do.”

“Okay.”

Turning to my side, Yushka puts a hot hand on my stomach and the other on the small of my back. Though light, his touches destabilize me, as does the warm, musky scent sneaking to my nostrils.

“Closer,” Lemaître orders. “Bodily contact.”

Shit, I’m fucked.

The stud radiates heat as he approaches, sweaty chest sticking to my arm, heart beating against my skin. His crotch barely brushes my hip, but each pore in my body becomes acutely aware of him, on high alert. As last night’s intense arousal replays in all of me, my inner thighs clench with renewed want.

Whispers and low chuckles sound from both sides of the vast lobby. I try to forget the hundred eyes following my every move, but can’t help being distracted, bathed in full light and painfully self-conscious.

“That is better.” Like a shooting gun, Lemaître’s camera clicks and the flash blinds me repetitively. “Now, give him a smile, Cindy. You know the kind I want.”

My throat so dry I can’t speak, I turn to Yushka.

He’s very near, inches from my face, black pupils gleaming with mischief. Sweat pearls on his face, making him look sexier than ever. Long, black hairs glue to his forehead and cheeks. He smells of soap, his close shave making him look baby-faced.

Seemingly at ease, the heaving of his chest regular, he stares into my eyes. I can’t believe his confidence. Modelling is his profession, but how does he stay so fucking calm?

“You wanna give me a smile?” he whispers, warm breaths brushing my chin. Behind me, his large hand sneaks lower and palms my butt cheek. With that and his other fingers splaying on my stomach, he pulls me to him, making me feel the entire length and…hardness…of his cock on my hip.

I suck in a breath.

His lips curl up in a self-satisfied grin. “Hm, Andrea? You wanna give me a smile?”

Oh my fucking God. I can’t help but obey while my insides go up in flames.

Flashing his teeth, he kneads my ass with a strong hand and pushes his full erection against me. He knows what he’s doing, the devil. He knows slowly rubbing me with his cock turns my pussy to burning liquid.

Somewhere, a feminine gasp breaks the silence, followed by contained laughter.

Très bien, we have a smile,” Lemaître says, camera clicking, flash shooting. “Thank you, Cindy, that will be enough. Next!”

Still grinning and holding my look, Yushka slowly backs off, leaving chillier air between us.

I’m frozen. In shock, lust, need.

“Come on, move it!” Lemaître calls. “We don’t have all day.”

No shit.

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BUY LINKS:

Evernight | Amazon.com | Amazon.uk | All Romance eBooks | Bookstrand

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ABOUT LEA BRONSEN:

I like my reads fast, hot, and edgy, and strive to give my own stories the same intensity. After venturing into dirty inner-city crime drama with my debut novel Wild Hearted, I divide my writing time between psychological thriller, erotic contemporary romance, and dripping erotica.

I love to hear from my readers! Send me a mail to leabronsen@yahoo.com or meet me on:

Website | Facebook profile | Facebook page | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon | Smashwords

 

Guest: Lea Bronsen

 

MY BIGGEST FAN by Lea Bronsen

My Biggest Fan

BLURB:

Shawn Torien is a handsome, arrogant bassist with the groove rock band Bloodless. At thirty four, he’s seen everything, been everywhere, and all is handed to him on a silver plate—groupies included. His rock star attitude is questioned when the record company’s young webmistress Samantha joins the band to cover their life on the road.

Since she has crushed on Shawn for years, he takes great pleasure in teasing her and pushing her away… until he learns about the woman beneath the surface.

EXCERPT:

 

 

 

The backstage room is filling with people. Band members, roadies, management, and special guests such as family, media, and a few pre-selected fans. The place buzzes with chatting and chuckling, and I stop in the door to assess. Don’t see any eye-catching hotness yet.

 

Sweat runs from my head, along my back, and down my abs. My soaked shirt glues to my skin, and I stink of hour-long transpiration. I need a shower, but there’s so much else I want to do first: get a drink, a smoke, and some pussy before the tour bus leaves. None of these are allowed on board. I’m electrical, high. I need to move, and my whole body thirsts to get higher.

 

Next to a merchandise booth in a corner stands a table with plates of sandwiches and cut fruit, a selection of mineral water bottles, and alcoholic drinks.

 

“Shawn! Shawn!” Strangers rush me with expectant smiles, probably wanting me to sign CD covers or something.

 

But I’ve made up my mind. Ignoring them, I stride to the table, grab a can of cold beer and down it in one take. The icy beverage rushes through my throat and refreshes me. The sweaty hairs on my arms rise as if chilly air blew on them. I open another, gulp down the beer, and grab a third.

 

“Hey, Shawn,” a female says behind me.

 

I hate being interrupted, but I’ve heard that voice before. Beer in hand, I spin around.

 

Oh, Samantha from the record company. I don’t know if that pleases or annoys me. She’s cute, though, with long brown tendrils at shoulder-length, and hazel eyes glowing with warm intelligence.

 

The alcohol makes me a little tipsy; I can’t resist the want to tease her. I give her the can with a grin and proceed to take off my soaked shirt, as if it’s the most natural thing. Damp body heat and the sharp smell of sweat emanate as I lift my arms in the air, struggling to remove the wet fabric, groaning.

 

Once done, I drop it to the floor and cross my arms, making my well-trained muscles protrude, and scrutinize her reaction. Offering a little male sexiness has worked on most females before.

 

Flabbergasted is the best word to describe her face. I flash my teeth as her gaze runs over my torso. She can’t possibly be aware of her nostrils’ tiny movements, revealing her inhalation of my scent.

 

I let a moment pass, then ask, pointing at the can in her hands, “You gonna have that beer?”

 

“Oh.” She straightens with a deep breath, regains composure, looks at the brand logo on the can, and shakes her head. “No, I don’t drink alcohol at work.”

 

I like her voice. It’s soft, comforting, reminds me of my mother’s. But when she hands me my drink, the wolf in me wants to play. I cover her hand and tug while taking a step closer, pulling her toward me. She wears a discreet perfume, the scent of prairie flowers, I think. Her cheeks blush as she lifts her chin to meet my eyes, and her pupils grow feverish. She’s holding her breath. With my other hand, I grab her round, firm butt and press her stomach against mine.

 

All sounds around us vanish; the talking, the laughter. I focus on the girl in my arms. She’s not really my type, but knowing her infatuation, she’ll be an easy fuck. That’s all I need before getting on the bus. Tomorrow, it’ll be someone else.

 

I glance at the KISS patches on her chest. Gene Simmons once declared we’re all in this business for sex, and whoever says he does it for the music is lying. Besides, the girls beg to be screwed senseless by celebrities, so they can brag to their friends. Shawn in Bloodless slept with me! Squee!

 

Maybe she thinks I’m going to kiss her, but I’m not. Call me crazy, but there’s a little romantic in me saving that for a special girlfriend—if such a thing is in the cards for a guy like me. Instead, I move my hands to her denim jacket and start unbuttoning it from the top.

 

“You seem to need a little help with that,” I joke.

 

Damn, we’re so close, and her feminine heat makes my blood boil. I picture bringing her to a dark corner behind the stage curtain and having her hands on my cock. I suggestively push my hardness against her warm thighs.

 

She frowns and takes a step back.

 

No? What is it? My beer breath? I withdraw as well. Too fucking bad.

 

Eyes shimmering, she opens her mouth, but I turn and grab a new can. I mean, who the hell do you think you are to turn me down like that?

 

I gulp the whole drink, release a solid burp, and take what must be the fifth can before leaving.

 

BUY LINKS: Evernight Publishing / Amazon (US) / Amazon (UK) / Bookstrand / All Romance E-Books

MORE ABOUT LEA BRONSEN

AUTHOR BIO:

Lea lives in Europe with her husband and three children. She’s a fan of intense reads, the same way she loves intense sports, music, and rides. She has written adventure, mystery, and action-packed stories from an early age. In addition to the erotic romance short story “My Biggest Fan”, she recently published the crime drama novel “Wild Hearted” and has the thriller sequel “Carnivora”, the erotica novella “Risky Fever”, and a mystery/romance collaboration novel coming soon.

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Email: leabronsen@yahoo.com