Release of Bad Boy Blues

This weekend marks the release of my third erotica from Amber Quill: BAD BOY BLUES http://amberquill.com/AmberHeat/BadBoyBlues.html

The idea came to me a couple of years ago when I visited my sister in the tiny village where we both grew up. Between the lack of employment opportunities in the area and the belief that “far-off fields might be greener”, most of the kids I went to school with, myself included, scattered to the four corners of the earth and eventually we lost touch.

Losing touch doesn’t mean you forget a person. As year follows year, the memories dim and looks can change to the point where you probably wouldn’t recognize one another if you did meet again. But what about the village bad boy? The first boy you ever loved and the one you never forgot? The boy your mom said was bad to the bone and would never amount to anything? The boy who rescued your kitten from the pear tree when he found you crying your heart out, then broke your heart into a million pieces by blowing you off without a word when you went away to school?

Over the years, you’ve received little snippets of news from home, including how That Boy has gone from bad to worse to absolutely awful, and then how he and his good buddy finally went too far and have each been given four years in the federal penitentiary. Prison is supposed to straighten a person out, make them see the error of their ways, but village rumor has it prison didn’t work in this case. That Boy is still as bad as ever. He’s still drinking too much and still acting out by trying to outrun the cops in stolen cars.

But what if those rumors are all wrong? What if the village gossips are only seeing what they want to see? What if, somewhere inside That Boy, the kindness and compassion that prompted him to dry a little girl’s tears by rescuing her kitten from the tree is still alive and well?

Here’s a tiny excerpt. It’s ten years since Sharon Lee Parker last saw Billy Duval. She recognizes his voice, but is afraid to turn around and look at him—she’s afraid those rumors are all true:

Excerpt:
“Was the car stolen?”
Billy’s soft chuckle sent a trickle of awareness tiptoeing down Sharon’s back. “Now why would you think a nasty thing like that?”
She pushed the feeling away. “From what I was told, not only was the car stolen, you were drunk and driving like a crazy person. You also refused to stop when the cops gave chase.”
“Yeah, well…maybe my sister should check with me and get her stories straight first, before she starts spreading rumors. Fact is, I couldn’t stop. The brakes had gone, as well as the steering. And I didn’t steal the damn thing. I only borrowed it for an hour to check it out.”
“All sounds very convenient to me,” Sharon said, shifting from bitchy to patronizing, and managing to do so without dissolving into laughter.
“It was a wreck that belonged to a friend. He didn’t want it, so I was trying it out to see if I could fix it up for this kid I know. Freakin’ miracle I was even able to start the damn engine.”
The conversation was as familiar to Sharon as Billy’s voice. Her trying to nail him for some small transgression, and him trying to wiggle his way out of it. Convinced this was no dream, she leaned back against the trunk of one of the trees growing along the edge of the creek. “You trying to tell me you’ve reformed?”
“Not exactly.” He chuckled again. The low, sexy chuckle that had always succeeded in stirring her up in the past was again working its magic. “I still have the odd beer once in a while.”
As he moved in closer and she felt his lips, then his hands, brush against her bare shoulders, instinct told Sharon to run. Now, while she still had the chance. But Billy’s hands were warm and the movement of his fingertips hypnotic as his breath fanned across her bare back while he massaged both the years and her resistance away.
“Like Christmas and birthdays?” she murmured, her throat too tight with emotion to say the words any louder.
“Weddings ’n’ funerals, too. And hot days like today.” As he spoke, Billy let her go, reached down into the creek and pulled out two bottles of lager. “Want one? They’ve been here since last weekend, so they should be just about right.”
“Sounds good.” She hesitated, annoyed to feel what she recognized as a rush of plain, unadulterated jealousy. The creek was her and Billy’s special place. “What were you doing here last weekend? Making out? Or hanging out with the boys?”
Sharon knew there had to have been other women. Billy was a red-blooded male, and she’d been gone a long time. But please, dear God, not here!
“Neither. Just me having a quiet drink while I tried to catch a fish or two.”
As Billy flipped off the caps, Sharon finally found the courage to turn around and look at him, more than a little shocked by the changes she saw.
Gone were the tangle of curls and long, dark hair, the guileless smile and the lean, bony body of the rebellious boy whose favorite outfit had been a ragged, washed out T-shirt and ancient, totally disreputable jeans. The boy she’d fallen in love with the day he climbed up the pear tree in her grandma’s garden and rescued her kitten. The same boy who’d taken her on more adventures and gotten her into more trouble with her parents than she could ever have managed by herself.
Lord, how she’d loved Billy back then! He’d been the first person she thought about when she opened her eyes in the morning, and she’d always finished her prayers with “Please, God, please do whatever you can to keep Billy safe,” just before she went to sleep.
But the boy who’d lived in her memory all these years was no more. In his place was a fully grown man, wearing clean, freshly pressed blue jeans, scuffed cowboy boots, a white T-shirt, and a checkered, long-sleeve flannel shirt instead of a jacket. A man with a short, regulation haircut that showed a tiny sprinkling of silver, a body that spoke of hard work or rigorous workouts, maybe even both, and a serious expression on his handsome face. The only remnant of the boy she’d once known was the familiar touch of his hands and the same sexy twinkle in his deep blue eyes.
“Well?”
Sharon wasn’t sure if Billy wanted to know why she was staring at him, or why she hadn’t taken the beer he was offering.
“I…umm…” She took a deep breath, grabbed the beer and turned away. What had she expected? She hadn’t seen Billy in over ten years, and she hadn’t been back to Jacob’s Corners in almost five—not since her dad died and she’d come home for his funeral.