Shelli Stevens | You did WHAT for research?

Sometimes when I’m writing a book, I love to find a way to make it more authentic. Like when I recently wrote a rodeo romance, I hopped in my car and went on a road trip to find a rodeo. With my book GROUNDS FOR SEDUCTION, I think I went above and beyond for some of the research. My heroine opens an espresso shop, so I actually signed up, paid for, and attended a class on how to open your own espresso stand. It almost made me want to ditch the book and go into coffee! Not really, but it was super informative—plus the Seattle area is a little inundated with coffee. I also did another class, which I only signed up for because a friend asked me to go with her. It was a little shocking, maybe blush-inducing, but I did it. What was that class? Strippercize. That’s right. How to strip. Are you blushing yet? Because I did. But it was actually a lot of fun, and a great workout. A lot of it reminded me of belly dancing. And it ended up working perfectly in a scene for my book. Here’s an excerpt from GROUNDS FOR SEDUCTION.

EXCERPT

Obviously, Gabe was working, because he was dressed in his police uniform. Gun, badge, tight pants, and all. And, Lord, he looked good in it.

“Don’t you have some bad guys to chase or something?” she queried with false innocence. “Or if this is your break, shouldn’t you be at the local donut shop?”

“Out to draw blood this morning, aren’t we, Maddie?”

And he still insisted on calling her Maddie. She forced a smile. She might be trying to get him into bed, but that didn’t mean she had to forgive him for Sunday night.

“Can I get you anything?”

His eyes darkened, and she realized she’d said the same thing to him on Sunday. And look what it had led to.

“I want to apologize,” he admitted after a moment. “Again.”

“All right.” She gave a slight nod and then her smile widened. “Let me make you a mocha.”

There was a flicker of panic in his eyes and she reveled in it as she started to prepare the shot for his drink.

“I thought you had some other girl working with you,” he asked, an obvious attempt to sound casual. “Someone else who was making the drinks?”

“Oh, yeah.” She gestured out the door. “She’s on her lunch and just ran to get food. But you seemed to like mine on Sunday?”

She’d meant her statement to have a double meaning, and he must have noticed it.

“Well, I sure as hell liked your outfit better on Sunday.” His voice had dropped an octave as he took a step closer to the counter.

“Aprons are practical.” She added chocolate syrup and the grated chocolate to the drink. “I’m impressed. I thought I might have scared you off after what happened.”

“You kicked me out.”

“You deserved it.” She handed him the mocha. “I made it to go. I’m sure you have a route to be patrolling or something.”

He took the mocha with a tight smile and reached for his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.”

“Maddie—Madison,” he corrected. “I just wanted to make sure there weren’t any hard feelings about Sunday. I mean, I don’t want this to affect my relationship with you and your family.”

“Oh, it won’t.” She put on her most saccharine smile. “I have no problem with having you—my brother’s best friend—give me an orgasm. Even if you seem to. And I have no plans to tell my family about it, either. So, look at that, we’re fine.”

He seemed skeptical. “So all is forgiven and forgotten?”

“Yes and no. Yes, you’re forgiven.” Madison stepped out from behind the counter and took the few remaining steps that separated them. “And, no, nothing’s forgotten,” she whispered against his ear, pressing herself against him.

“Maddie.” He groaned.

“I see, or feel, that I missed out on quite a bit Sunday.” She stepped back and smiled. “You are nowhere near being forgotten.”