Sexy Food

I love to cook, so that's a quality I pass along to my characters. Believe it or not, it's normally not my heroine who cooks. It's the hero. Plain and simple, men who cook are sexy. They don't have to be chef worthy, only willing to whip up a meal to satisfy his heroine. The real hero goes a step above and beyond. He doesn't stop at preparation, he ventures on and feeds his lady, with his fingers. This can be as erotic to me as kissing and touching. One way a woman knows that a man cares? He orders a meal at a restaurant and shares it with her. Not only does he share it, he feeds her directly from his fork. Men who have never even stepped foot in the kitchen may feel intimidated. I imagine it's a lot like me staring at a car engine. I cringe. You may have to give your man a boost of motivation and encouragement. Mix up sexy with cooking, and throw in a dash of subtle hints. Here are some ideas...

Dress in only an apron and ask for his help in dinner preparation. Start him out with baby steps...like cutting a cucumber or dicing an onion, that way you can save your eye make up from running. Have you ever noticed that onions don't bother men as much as they do women?

How about inviting your man for a blind taste testing? Get naked. Place bite-sized amounts of food on different parts of your body. Blindfolded, and only using his mouth, he must sample each "part" and tell you what food it is. For added bonus, for each right answer he gets, that's five minutes more of your mouth on his...well, you get the hint.

How about a romp on the table? Most tables are the perfect height. Here's a suggestion: Once you do the dirty on the table, don't tell anyone your secret, otherwise you may never have dinner guests again.

Once he becomes cozy with food and the kitchen, let him know how sexy you think it'd be if he tried a hand at something easy. I have a perfect recipe that anyone can accomplish.This is a recipe straight out of my newest work, Sin With Cuffs.

Pasta Salad

Ingredients:

One small box of corkscrew pasta
One cucumber
Four green onions
A container of cherry tomatoes
A bottle of italian dressing

Cook pasta according to directions. In the meantime, rinse veggies in cold water. Cut cucumber into bite-sized pieces. Slice the onions (I always start with the green ends and only use a small amount of the white). Cut tomatoes in half. Put everything into a bowl. When the pasta is done cooking, rinse with cold water and drain completely. Add to bowl. Pour bottle of dressing over and stir. Chill in fridge. It gets tastier the longer it sits.

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Can a past love become their future?

The Thorntons’ mansion is full of timeless secrets waiting to be unraveled. When small-town journalist Ivy and ghost hunter Max are stuck in the forgotten, dilapidated house, they find more than just a haunting. Ivy finds herself dreaming of the former owners, Marcus Thornton and his lovely wife, Elizabeth. Their profound love was once the talk of the town, and the cause their mysterious, untimely deaths never found. When Ivy’s dreams begin to become reality, the mystery starts to unravel and sheds truth on more than just the past.

WARNING: Graphic language, naughty ghosts, a non-committal male, and a love that endures beyond time and death.

Publication Date: May 21, 2012  - Word Count: 85,000 – E-Pub Page Count: 234

Available at:  Amazon Kindle – B&N Nook - I-Tunes – ARe – Lyrical Store

Dreaming Ivy by Rhonda Lee Carver

Excerpt:

Copyright 2012, Rhonda Lee Carver

All rights reserved, Lyrical Press, Inc.

EIvy stepped into the corridor. She stopped and listened. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadow sweep across the wall. She turned as it disappeared. “Hello?” No answer. She stomped down the hall and burst into the room. “Hello–”

The room was empty.Ivy swallowed the taste of fright. A shiver raced across her skin. She had seen someone, or had she? She rubbed her eyes. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on her.

A loud crack in the floor behind her sent Ivy twisting. The sun from the window blinded her. She acted on impulse. She drew her fist back and punched–landing on something solid. The force behind her connection with skin and bone sent her off balance, flailing backward. A hand on her wrist pulled her hard against a steely frame.

She met a dark stare, just as she felt wobbling. The impact of her body had sent him a step back. He lost his balance. Together they fell. The air whooshed from his chest as Ivy landed on top of the stranger.

She closed her eyes and remained still. She wanted nothing more than for the floor to swallow her. Several long seconds floated by. Neither of them said a word. She finally opened her eyes.

Embarrassed and confused, Ivy laid her palms against his shoulders, pushing herself up. She looked directly into his not-so-pleased expression and gulped. Enchanting green eyes, prominent cheekbones, midnight hair…and a pissed-off set to his jaw. She’d made a mistake–a huge one. “Max Shepard.” It wasn’t a question.

He narrowed his eyes. “Ivy Kennedy, journalist and amateur boxer?”

The deep, rich tone of his voice did funny things to the pit of her stomach. His voice wasn’t the only toned part of him. Pressed together gave her an up close and personal testimonial of his physical assets. Broad chest, tight abs to long legs, she could feel tight muscles and a curious bulge. She scooted her hip around the swelling in his jeans. Heat and realization spread through her body.

One corner of his mouth lifted. “It’s my cell.” Could he see straight through her?

“Cell?”

He reached into his pocket and held up his phone. Ivy was certain her skin changed into the perfect color of mortification. She wondered just how bad this could get. Pasting a smile on her face, she said, “Nice to meet you.” The temperature rose between them into the triple digits. Their bodies seemed to melt together. He didn’t look like the pictures she’d seen on the internet. He looked more distinguished in person. “You’re older than I thought,” she blurted.

“Older?”

“Older, in a good way.” She licked her bottom lip and nervously pushed her hair behind her ear. “My mother said I have a bad habit of saying the most awkward things and rambling–” She swallowed. “–like I am now.” She moved slightly.

His zipper started to swell again. Was that another cell phone in his pocket, or… Before her mind could complete the thought, he wrapped his large hands around her waist and lifted her off him. He set her on her feet as he came to stand in front of her. “That’s better,” he said as he backed up. “Damn.” He kicked rug that must have been the reason behind their fall.

He stood there, silent. This was a complete disaster. She’d managed to give him a black eye to match the dark scowl on his face. She needed to start searching for a new job. Marshall would have her head for this.

WARNING: Light BDSM, kink, explicit sex.