I have to admit that Salvadore has really surprised me! He’s a bit different than my other guys, I think, but not so much that I don’t just adore him, the same as the rest.
Sal’s possibly just a bit more damaged, IMO, and he needs someone very patient! The problem is, heat season isn’t exactly a time when any of my wolves have a lot of patience to spare. So … there’s some conflict there, of a most delicious kind, IMO. ;)
I’ve been having so much fun with Sal’s story. I really hope that excitement comes through in the book.
I’m not exactly sure when Salvadore’s Luck will be ready, but I’m still hoping for a late 2014 or early 2015 release. I don’t believe it’ll be out any later than early Feb. I can’t promise that, but I’m pretty confident. :)
I want to write all the stories. In my world, everyone deserves love and I want them to have it! I’d love to release faster so I can write all the stories I want to write, but … they come as they come and I have to abide by the demands of my muse!
I don’t think The King’s Gambit is going to be delayed much longer. It’s just that Geran’s a little more complicated than he led me to believe when I started this one and so the story’s been a bit different than I expected—and taken me a lot longer to write than I expected, even though it’s still not a really long story, not like the Wolves’ Heat books or the New Canton Republic books.
Also, I have another possible story in the works that’s been bugging me for the last few months, a contemporary “I’m gonna thwart my asshole granddad who thinks he can control my life by making me marry somebody so I can claim my inheritance but I’ll show that homophobic old bastard by marrying my gay best friend instead” story. :D Oops.
Here’s an excerpt of the beginning I sketched out a month or so ago. (It’s very rough!)
Copyright © 2014 by Odessa Lynne
Dayton Royce stared across the desk at the executor of his dead grandfather’s will while acid burned its way up his esophagus.
Through gritted teeth he finally said, “For how long?”
“One year and three days.”
Such an odd number. But his grandfather wouldn’t have liked the roundness of one year, nor the oddness of three hundred and sixty-five days, so one year and three days it was.
Son of a bitch. He clenched the arms of the chair just a little tighter, his fingers biting into the padded leather that covered half of the sleek wood.
“And I don’t get a penny until I do?”
“You do not.” Calvin L. Richardson sounded bored.
Dayton admitted that maybe he should have stopped repeatedly asking the same couple of questions about ten minutes ago.
Calvin Richardson raised the stack of papers and tapped the edge sharply against the top of his desk, effectively neatening the papers and signaling his intent to move the meeting along.
Dayton leaned forward in the chair, dropping one elbow to his knee for support. “And there’s no way I can get out of this if I want any of that money?”
Richardson’s sigh fluttered the edges of the paper in his hands. “Mr. Royce, your grandfather didn’t want you to have a way out and he used every legal tool at his disposal—which was considerable—to make sure you had to abide by the terms of his will before you could inherit the assets he left for you, including his significant fortune. If you want those assets, you’re going to have to marry someone and stay married for one year and three days, no exceptions.”
Dayton fisted his hand. “I hate that dead son of a bitch.”
Richardson’s expression didn’t waver. “I have an appointment scheduled, and I’m already going to be late. Have a good day, Mr. Royce. Come see me once you have a marriage certificate.”
Dayton ground his teeth together and pushed himself up out of the chair. He didn’t bother offering Richardson a handshake on his way out. Richardson didn’t seem to care.
* * *
“We could … uh, marry, you know.”
Dayton stared at Alex, wondering where the hell that suggestion had come from.
“Okay, never mind. Bad idea,” Alex said.
Dayton’s heart thudded in his chest and his mouth went dry.
“There’ll be questions,” he said, then had to stop and clear his throat before continuing. “A fucking deposition where I have to swear to tell the truth and then they’re going to ask about consummation.”
Alex’s blue eyes seemed to darken. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Dayton rubbed his hand on his thigh, trying to force away the twisty feeling in his stomach. “Whoever I pick, there’ll be sex, because I’m not losing this inheritance over a fuck.”
“I can’t believe—“
Dayton interrupted Alex. “You’d fuck anybody for sixty-three million in assets and cash, and you know it, so don’t act indignant that I’m willing.”
Alex grinned, but didn’t actually say anything. He didn’t have to.
Dayton smacked the outside of Alex’s thigh. He started to push to his feet.
“I’d fuck you.”
Dayton froze and then dropped back to the sofa, meeting Alex’s blue-eyed gaze with a strong sense of shock. “What?”
“You need to find someone you trust if you’re going to do this without getting stuck in a real marriage, right? Not even a prenup will save you if your bride finds out you’re using her to get your hands on your inheritance, or if it does, I’m sure it’s going to cost you going in. And how will you keep it a secret if she knows what’s really going on?” Alex snorted. “There’s not a girl you’ve dated that you can trust not to screw you over given half the opportunity because your taste in women is—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dayton interrupted. “But I’m not sure I’m ready to do gay sex just to—”
“Ah,” Alex said, a knowing look on his face.
“I’m not afraid of gay sex, goddammit.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I—” But Dayton stopped.
What the fuck was the problem? If he could trust anybody to not marry him for his money, it’d be Alex. He would trust Alex with his life. And when the time came, Alex would divorce him without a complaint once Dayton had met the terms of his grandfather’s will. They would still be best friends. Of course they would.
No complications.
Nothing but a couple of fucks between them so that he could pass a lie detector test—because if he married a man instead of a woman some dick was going to demand proof that he was entitled to that money. Very likely Calvin Richardson himself.
And God above, what better way to make his homophobic bastard of a grandfather roll over in his grave than to do exactly what he said and marry—but a man instead of a woman.
A fitting revenge.
Alex was staring at him with curious eyes. Alex’s patience was one of the things that made their friendship work so well, because Dayton didn’t have a patient bone in his body.
A couple of fucks. No big deal at all. How hard could it—
He coughed, the sudden flash of memory catching him off guard. He knew what Alex’s dick looked like, even though he’d never seen him hard. Alex wouldn’t have to be a grower to have a dick that put half the people Dayton knew to shame.
What the hell was he thinking about Alex’s dick for?
“If you’re not attracted to men, you’re not going to want to be the one doing the fucking,” Alex said matter-of-factly. “So we should just decide now that I’ll be the one in the lead.”
“Oh, hell no,” Dayton said. “I’ve seen your dick. I’m supposed to let you put that up my—”
“Sixty-three million,” Alex said.
“My ass is sacred ground!”
“Your ass is kind of cute.”
“You are an asshole. I don’t even know why I like you.”
“Because I put up with you.”
Dayton exhaled loudly and raked his hands through his hair. “You do.”
“You don’t have many real friends.”
“I don’t.”
“And I will never screw you—”
Dayton raised his eyebrows high.
“—over.” Alex laughed. “Now who’s being the dick?”
“Tony is going to shit a brick when he hears we’re getting married.”
Alex’s grin widened. “Yeah. That thought did cross my mind.”
I have no idea if that one’s going to work, but if it sounds like something you might like to read, let me know! I’ll be much more likely to get around to it if other people are interested. Then again, I kind of need to know what happens—and how big a dick Tony is—and I won’t find out if I don’t write the book. ;)
