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Why Jace Chantiers is the sexiest man alive and how I got to spend New Year’s Eve with him . . . oh, yeah #NewYearsEve


Did you see that British tabloid?

Every female in London must have a copy pasted to her bedpost. I didn’t know who he was until I got on board the airbus after he blew me away with his offer to give me a free ticket home to San Francisco.

I never dreamed I’d be sitting in first class next to the sexiest man alive.Daily_Sneek_Jace_1200x1565

Me, Kacie Bennett.

Don’t get the wrong idea. He’s just trying to help me. Seems Megan, my youngest sister, threw a hissy fit when her jock boyfriend left her behind when he went off to college. But that was no reason for her to run  away from home to marry the first guy who asked her. A real creep, but that’s another story.

I want to talk about Jace Chantiers.

God, the man reeks masculinity from every pore. He’s built like a rock with shoulders so broad I swear the seams on his expensive suit are ready to rip apart. Handsome, rugged looks. He smells good, too. Spicy but with an undertone of citrus that makes me want to lean over and inhale him.

Not that I would. I’m a good girl. I run the family B&B: Bennett’s Bed & Breakfast, but the locals call it The 3 Bees. No hanky panky for me. Especially 30,000 feet up in the air. How I got here is a story in itself…

Gotta go. He’s making his play…rubbing his knee against mine. Giving me that look he’s famous for on the tabloid cover…taking off his suit jacket…damn, he’s opening his shirt. Oh, my God. His chest is muscular and bronze just like in the photo. He’s cupping my chin in his hand, his lips brushing mine…

Uh-oh, I think I’m about to find out why Jace Chantiers is the sexiest man alive…

========

Will Kacie be able to resist the sexiest man alive?

Could you?

Come Fly with Me  is the story about a bad boy billionaire who hooks up with a lonely good girl on New  Year’s Eve at 30,000 feet in the air where…

Anything can happen.

Cheers!

~Jina

Come Fly with Me — Amazon Kindle

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The Rogue from Rome on #NationalPastaDay

Rogue_Roma

The way to a rogue’s heart is through his…

Well, not exactly. At least for this handsome, dashing rogue from Rome.

Find out how a pretty signorina catches his eye on National Pasta Day!

Ciao!

~Jina

=================

(my poem as written on the graphic)

The ROGUE from ROME

There once was a rogue from Rome

Who wandered far from home

A pretty wife to find

To make pasta divine

Such was his desire

To light his fire

But the girl who caught his eye

Couldn’t cook or bake or fry

What she could do I don’t have to tell you

Needless to say They went out for pasta every day

And made passionate love all through the night

Our virile rogue al dente when out went the light…

================

Featured Image -- 2069

 

If you love Civil War romance and time travel and TWO hunky military heroes, check out my Kindle Scout winner:

LOVE ME FOREVER

She wore gray.
He wore blue.
But their love defied the boundaries of war.
And time.

LOVE ME FOREVER is now available from Kindle Press at Amazon.com

Ride, Baby, ride…my excellent Paris adventure for #MotorcycleRideDay

ride_baby_ride

His name was Romain and I was in Paris on a summer break from college when he nearly ran me over with his motorcycle. Okay, it was my fault since I was ogling this gorgeous hunk of masculinity in his ripped T-shirt and tight jeans and I got too close to the curb and stumbled into the street.

“Pardon, mademoiselle,” he said, knowing he wasn’t to blame, but taking it on the chin anyway.

Brooding dark eyes with unruly dark hair gave him an outlaw look. Sitting astride his big motorcycle, he glared at me, his strongly arched brows furrowed as if he were sizing me up. I felt naked under his penetrating gaze. And I liked it. I was sure the gods watching over lonely college co-eds in strange lands had sent him to me.

How could I resist when he offered me a ride?

We became a twosome that summer. Inseparable day and night. I have no doubt he drove the fastest, sleekest motorcycle in Paris. Speeding up and down the bustling Boulevard Saint-Germain and the Latin Quarter with me on the back. A long, crusty baguette in one hand, holding onto his muscular bod with the other.

My fingers seeking his hard chest through the holes in his ripped T-shirt.

Ah, yes, the moments memories are made of.

“Hold on tight, ma chérie,” he yelled into the wind scented with the lingering perfume of lost queens and courtesans. Even the smoky exhaust couldn’t mask it. “I’m going to put pedal to the metal, as you Americans say.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I snuggled up close to him. Damn, I loved the feeling I got hugging his body. The strong musky smell of his maleness hit my nostrils, reminding me of the sultry nights I’d spent in his arms in my tiny hotel room on the rue du Sommerard…our bodies twisted together in harmony, him whispering words of endearment in French, me wishing I’d paid more attention in French class.

M. Appel, my professor, would have raised an aristocratic eyebrow and tapped his pointer on the edge of my nose. “Bien, mademoiselle,” I could hear him say. “I told you someday you’d regret not studying your French idioms.”

So be the folly of my youth.

But Romain and I didn’t have trouble communicating between the sheets. I was tempted to tell that to M. Appel when the fall quarter started. In three weeks. Till then, Romain was all mine.

“Bon,” the sexy Frenchman said, shifting his weight on the leather seat of his motorcycle and pushing his butt into my groin, sending me to paradise. “Let me show you Paris like you’ve never seen her.”

Off we went.

We rode around Paris on his big, sexy motorcycle. Up the steep hills of Montmartre and past Sacré-Cœur, then the fancy boutiques on the rue de Rivoli before zooming under the bridges where the homeless of Paris sought refuge from the chaos above.

As they had for hundreds of years.

Every day, we stopped under the bridge and brought fresh baguettes to the people huddled there. Gathered around the burning flame in the old metal trashcan, eking out an existence. I had no idea Paris had so many les exclus, as they were called. It broke my heart. I saw them begging on church steps, at train stations, in the park with the carousel.

Romain told me his family was once homeless after his father died. His mother and three little sisters lived under the bridge when he was fifteen and they couldn’t find room in a shelter. He worked as a laborer till his hands bled so he could get them a tiny apartment. Over the years, he worked even harder to better himself, go to university and, now in his late twenties, he had his dream bike.

He rode it everywhere.

His muscular arms and big hands maneuvering his lean, mean machine through ancient narrow streets and back alleys. Me on the back. His strong torso crushing my breasts, his hips grinding against mine, his body heat so wonderfully intense, I melted into him. By the time I had to go home to the States, I’d ripped apart half a dozen of his T-shirts with my nails. Holding onto him. Wanting him.

And when we made love at night, he rode…mais non, that’s my little secret.

A summer in Paris I’ll never forget.

===================

Coming for Halloween: MY SPEED DATE WITH A VAMPIRE

meet Count di Romanzo, a vampire to die for

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Featured Image -- 2069If you love Civil War romance and time travel and TWO hunky military heroes, check out my Kindle Scout winner:

LOVE ME FOREVER

She wore gray.
He wore blue.
But their love defied the boundaries of war.
And time.

LOVE ME FOREVER is now available from Kindle Press at Amazon.com

Oh, yeah, this guy for #NoodleDay

A hunky guy and yummy pasta noodles…and of course, a little poem:
There once was a girl who noodled
No, I don’t mean she doodled
She made pasta every night
To keep her man in her sight

Lipstick Day! A sexy poem just for you . . . and the man in your life. Pucker up!

I love lipsticks!
I save them, have lots of tubes I don’t use anymore, but the colors are still intense and vibrant — and the tubes! I have one that’s very Art Deco. Most lipsticks now come in plastic tubes . . .
So for LIPSTICK DAY here’s a poem I wrote about lipsticks . . . and your man.
Jina

PS — In my WW 2 time travel story I just submitted, everybody wears red, red lipstick. What’s your favorite color?

 

A LIPSTICK Lover’s Poem

From pink to peach to jungle red
There’s little that hasn’t been said

About our favorite lipstick shade
That promises not to fade

But it’s not lipstick’s glam
Or its kickass hot damn

That seduces us to the lipstick counter
But the promise of a sexy encounter

With the hottie of our dreams
Who’s more than he seems

A man for all seasons
Who has his reasons

When he whispers, “I don’t mean to be rude…
“But I prefer you and your lipstick nude.”

 

You can find all my heroines and their lipsticks on my Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Jina-Bacarr/e/B001IU2P8G/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
—————-

Love_Me_Forever_500x798

LOVE ME FOREVER

She wore gray.
He wore blue.
But their love defied the boundaries of war.
And time.

LOVE ME FOREVER is a Kindle Scout selection and is available at Amazon.com on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited 

 

My Wild Elevator Ride: Or why I shouldn’t say I write sexy novels

Writers get lonely. We need to socialize, talk. Discover there is a world beyond our computers. So I came up with this fun character who is a writer and what happens when she goes out into the world and goes on a wild elevator ride…

I hope you enjoy my short story.

~Jina

========

My Wild Elevator Ride

I work in a cubicle surrounded by books, computers, and ideas.

I get lonely.

Very lonely. Hey, a girl can only fantasize so much about meeting a sexy guy who’ll knock her bunny slippers off. (I don’t wear shoes when I’m writing.)

So when I go out, which isn’t often when you’re trying to promote your work online and get through the quagmire of the first chapter in your next book, I get talkative.

Very talkative.

When my goddess gets her gab on, I can’t stop her. My therapist says it’s repressed speech syndrome ad finitum. Or something like that.

Anyway, I got in over my head when I walked into the elevator in my hotel. I was in town to speak at a writer’s group which always makes me a nervous wreck. I was going through my usual ritual to calm my nerves. A six-pack of diet soda and dark chocolate.

The only problem was, the soda was warm.

I like ice. Cold, numbing ice. Makes me forget I have to face a room of creative ladies who are probably way more talented than I am, but for some reason they think I’m cool. I just got lucky, I tell them, but yeah, I earned my stripes in this business. Writing, getting rejections for years, and working my butt off. I’m grateful to be where I am.

So what I didn’t need was a guy chatting me up about his hundred thousand dollar a year sales job and his black BMW. Nice enough, but I wasn’t looking for anything more than an ice machine that worked.

The one on my floor was broken.

Now I was stuck in an elevator with a sales guy who had obviously removed the wedding band from his left hand. His tan line blinked at me like a neon sign. Come on in, it seemed to say, the water’s fine.

I don’t swim with the sharks.

“You don’t want to drink alone,” he said, observing my ice bucket filled with chilled cubes.

“I have my laptop for company.” I smiled. “Besides, I have work to do.”

“Are you here with the software convention?” he asked warily.

“Well…” I wasn’t, but I decided to play along.

“No way…a pretty girl like you can’t be a techie.”

“Why not?” I shot back, perturbed. I hated guys who put down a girl’s ambition. “Can’t women use their brains to get ahead?”

“Not when they have natural attributes…” He eyed my chest. Mind you, I was wearing navy blue sweats and my pink bunny slippers with floppy ears. This guy was either desperate or he’d been on the road too long.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I said, “but I’m a writer.”

“You’re kidding?” He seemed genuinely surprised, which didn’t help my ego. “What do you write?”

Ooh...I couldn’t resist shooting him the punchline.

“I write sexy novels.”

“Well, you are full of surprises,” he said, edging closer to me. “We should get to know each other better.”

The air in the elevator suddenly got stuffier and I prayed my deodorant didn’t work so he’d get the message. So far, no one else had gotten on the elevator and I had two more stops before we got to my floor.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” I wiggled the ears on my rabbit slippers, hoping to shoot down this guy’s sex-o-meter. That should have stopped him right there.

It didn’t.

“How about a nightcap in my room? My bottle of bourbon and your—” He paused, wetting his lips. “Ice cubes.”

“You mean do research for my books?”

“Oh, yeah…”

“I bet,” I said.

I shouldn’t have opened my mouth, but sometimes we writers just ache to act like our heroines and throw back those snappy remarks. I tried to discourage him, but when he started breathing in my face, I knew I was in over my head. I did what any romance heroine would do.

I dumped the bucket of melting ice on his pinstripe suit.

“Hey, what the—” he called out and thank God, the elevator door opened. It wasn’t my floor, but I didn’t care. One more minute with Mr. BMW and I would have ended up served on a chilled platter.

Before he could brush the ice off his shoulders, out I ran. Down the long corridor and then I jammed down the stairway to the next floor to my room.

I never looked back.

I spent the rest of the night drinking warm soda and giggling as I wrote this guy into my story. I bet he won’t forget me either.

I imagine that was the last time he tried to pick up a girl in an elevator wearing pink bunny slippers.

==============

Featured Image -- 2069If you love Civil War romance and time travel and TWO hunky military heroes, check out my Kindle Scout winner:

LOVE ME FOREVER

She wore gray.
He wore blue.
But their love defied the boundaries of war.
And time.

LOVE ME FOREVER is now available from Kindle Press at Amazon.com

Come Fly with Me . . . First Class with a sexy billionaire on #WorldTheatreDay

I’ve always loved the theatre — esp. that moment when you hold your breath right before the curtain comes up.

The magic is about to begin . . .

I wanted to capture that magic with my story COME FLY WITH ME about a girl trying to get home and a billionaire so I recorded the opening scene with dialogue only. Like a play!!

I hope you enjoy it.

PS — Bonus below: more about this sexy billionaire from his POV.

==============

Jace Chantiers, the gorgeous hero in COME FLY WITH ME, is a sucker for a pretty woman, so when he overhears Kacie Bennett begging the airline ticket agent to get her a seat…any seat…on the last flight out of London on New Year’s Eve, he buys her a first class ticket home.

The woman was trouble. An itch up his backside he shouldn’t scratch, but he did. Strange, but Jace was enjoying himself more than he had in a long time. She stoked a fire in his belly that didn’t go straight to his dick but to his brain. She issued him a challenge he couldn’t ignore and it was killing him.

When he heard her talking earlier on her cell, her voice cracking as she tried to find out what happened to her sister, he’d pulled the ticket agent aside and used his influence to find out more about her. Her story got to him. Desperate to get home, credit card limit too low for anything but economy. Baby sister in trouble. What else could he do but buy her the last empty seat on the special midnight flight to San Francisco? In first class. Next to him. She wasn’t his type, but she sure had a saucy attitude and confidence that took a man off his edge. Made him practically beg her to accept the damn ticket.

Come_Fly_cover_Dec2015Jace had never done that for any woman. He’d always taken what he wanted. An old habit he couldn’t shake since he was growing up in a gritty beach town in SoCal and discovered no one would give a kid with no name a break. He never did get the smells of hot tar, dead jellyfish, and overripe trash out of his lungs and spent his life always one knockout punch away from the next fight.

Flying first class was one of the perks of getting out of that life. He preferred flying commercial over having his own jet. He liked watching people, seeing how they reacted to the world around them, not sitting by himself in a private plane. Alone.

Not bad for a punk who had nothing for wheels but a broken down skateboard when he was a teen. Now he was at the top of his game, a frequent flier and well-acquainted with the luxury of the airbus. So when this voluptuous babe with the golden-girl legs went on a verbal sparring match with him, it made him sit up and take notice. Women always wanted something from him.

Kacie didn’t.

He couldn’t let her go until he found out why.

=============

 

Come Fly With Me is available on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited

 ~Jina

 

Casting spells on #Halloween? Nah, I’d rather read my favorite romance novel


Happy Halloween!!
What’s your favorite type of romance?
If you like fairy tales and want to read about Zoey — not your ordinary Cinderella. She’s not young, beautiful, or blonde — check out Royal Bride.
Sweet Romance on Amazon Kindle.

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Happy Halloween!! — EROTIC ROMANCE:

NP_Halloween_title

I love Halloween and dressing up in a pretty costume. Especially a can-can outfit with a white petticoat and layers of ruffles and black stockings. Imagine if you could go to Paris and dance the can-can at the famous Moulin Rouge.

You can…with the help of a little black magic.

Meet Autumn Maguire in Naughty Paris She’s jilted at the altar and uses her pre-paid honeymoon tickets to go to Paris. She’s turned on when she sees a full-size painting of a sexy, lost Impressionist named Paul Borquet in a studio in the Marais District…

Here is an audio/video podcast of two short scenes from Naughty Paris where Autumn hears the laughter of the scandalous artist…and she’s transported back to 1889 Paris.

Find out what happened to Autumn Maguire in Naughty Paris.”

Happy Halloween!

Lipstick Day! A sexy poem . . .

I love lipsticks!
I save them, have lots of tubes I don’t use anymore, but the colors are still intense and vibrant — and the tubes! I have one that’s very Art Deco. Most lipsticks now come in plastic tubes . . .
So for LIPSTICK DAY here’s a poem I wrote about lipsticks . . . and your man.
Jina

PS — I’m writing a WW2 time travel story now where everybody wears red, red lipstick. What’s your favorite color?<

A LIPSTICK Lover’s Poem
From pink to peach to jungle red
There’s little that hasn’t been said
About our favorite lipstick shade
That promises not to fade
But it’s not lipstick’s glam
Or its kickass hot damn
That seduces us to the lipstick counter
But the promise of a sexy encounter
With the hottie of our dreams
Who’s more than he seems
A man for all seasons
Who has his reasons
When he whispers, “I don’t mean to be rude…
“But I prefer you and your lipstick nude.”
You can find all my heroines and their lipsticks on my Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Jina-Bacarr/e/B001IU2P8G/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
—————-

Love_Me_Forever_500x798

LOVE ME FOREVER

She wore gray.
He wore blue.
But their love defied the boundaries of war.
And time.

LOVE ME FOREVER is a Kindle Scout selection and is available at Amazon.com on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited 

 

My Wild Elevator Ride: A Short Story

Writers work in a cubicle surrounded by books, computers, and ideas.

We get lonely.

So when we go out (which isn’t often when you’re trying to promote your work online and get through the quagmire of the first chapter in your next book), we get talkative.

And since today is Talk in an Elevator Day, I’m reminded of the time I was in an elevator in a hotel and a guy was chatting me up about his hundred thousand dollar a year sales job and his black BMW. Nice enough, but I wasn’t looking for anything more than an ice machine that worked. The one on my floor was broken.

The convo went something like this.

“You don’t want to drink alone,” he said, observing my ice bucket filled with chilled cubes.

“I have my laptop for company.” I smiled. “Besides, I have work to do.”

“Are you here with the software convention?” he asked warily.

“Well…” I wasn’t, but I decided to play along.

“No way…a pretty girl like you can’t be a techie.”

“Why not?” I shot back. “Can’t women use their brains to get ahead?”

“Not when they have natural attributes…” He eyed my chest. Mind you, I was wearing navy blue sweats and pink bunny slippers with floppy ears. This guy was either desperate or he’d been on the road too long.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m a writer.”

“You’re kidding?” He seemed genuinely surprised, which didn’t help my ego. “What do you write?”

Ooh…I couldn’t resist shooting him the punch line.

“I write sexy novels.”

“Well, you are full of surprises,” he said, edging closer to me. “We should get to know each other better.”

The air in the elevator suddenly got stuffier and I prayed my deodorant didn’t work so he’d get the message. So far, no  one else had gotten on the elevator and I had two more stops before we got to my floor.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” I said, wiggling the ears on my rabbit slippers, hoping to shoot down this guy’s sex-o-meter. That should have stopped him right there.

It didn’t.

“How about a nightcap in my room? My bottle of bourbon and your–” He paused, wetting his lips. “Ice cubes.”

“You mean research?”

“Oh, yeah…”

“I bet,” I said.

I shouldn’t have opened my mouth, but sometimes we writers just ache to act like our heroines and throw back those snappy remarks. I tried to discourage him, but when he started breathing in my face, I knew I was in over my head. I did what any romance heroine would do.

I dumped the bucket of melting ice on his pinstripe suit.

“Hey, what the–” he called out and thank God, the elevator door opened. It wasn’t my floor, but I didn’t care. One more minute with Mr. BMW and I would have ended up served on a chilled platter. Before he could brush the ice off his shoulders, out I ran. Down the long corridor and then jammed down the stairway to the next floor to my room.

I never looked back.

I imagine that was the last time he tried to pick up a girl in an elevator wearing pink bunny slippers.

~Jina

Featured in the picture:

Titanic Rhapsody from Jina Bacarr on Vimeo.

My Titanic romance “Titanic Rhapsody” is available on:

US: Amazon Kindle and Amazon KU http://a.co/1wSE0rb

UK: Amazon Kindle and Amazon KU http://amzn.eu/75Lw9NS
Share this:

My Titanic romance “Titanic Rhapsody” is available on:

US: Amazon Kindle and Amazon KU http://a.co/1wSE0rb

UK: Amazon Kindle and Amazon KU http://amzn.eu/75Lw9NS

———–

Love_Me_Forever_500x798

LOVE ME FOREVER

She wore gray.
He wore blue.
But their love defied the boundaries of war.
And time.

LOVE ME FOREVER is a Kindle Scout selection and is available at Amazon.com on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited 

 

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