Skip to content

Em Petrova shares A Mental Manicure with Luscious

by on April 18, 2013

As an author, I spend most of my time basking in my imagination. I float away from my cluttered office and four noisy kids to rolling plains and dusty barns with cowboys, into dark underworlds with supernatural beings, and even run into burning buildings with my firemen.


Also, as you can imagine, cleaning, cooking, and doing laundry for a big household means chipped, peeling, and short nails. I also bite them off when they get to a certain length, as I can’t possibly type with long nails. Recently, though, I’ve been oohing and awwwing over nail art. The trend for pretty nails is high, and I’m tired of having Cinderella’s hands. I may not have scrubbed a fireplace, but I look like it.


Trouble is, getting the time and extra funds to get a manicure sometimes seems like more of a fantasy than hooking up with one of my hunky men in Wranglers. I’ve been contemplating how to get that manicure—for real and in my mind. Because isn’t getting a manicure all about pampering yourself? Relaxing your mind and letting go of the stresses of life?


April and May are months where teachers try to pack as much work in as possible, and every activity under the sun takes place. Art shows, band concerts, baseball practices, dance recitals—all overload my mind. If ever there was a time to give my mind a manicure, this is it! Soak, clip, buff, polish.  Ahhhhhhh!


Stealing those quiet moments are as much of a mental manicure as I can get. So you’d better believe I’m listening to rich violin music after my kids go to bed, and when I let the dog out, I’m taking long minutes to gaze up at the deep, velvety sky filled with stars. Sometimes just drawing a lungful of spring-scented air transports and calms.


What do you do to unwind? Do you get the real manicure or do you take a moment to admire the small things in life, like I do? I’d love to hear from you. Also, please enjoy an excerpt from my latest ménage, HARD RIDIN’ (! Yeehaw!


Excerpt rated ADULT:


Jens Anderson hooked Laurel around the waist and tugged her close as the twangy two-step faded away. The low drawl of a slow song drifted from the speakers flanking the dance floor.



As Laurel came up against the wall of muscle that made up Jens’s body, a sigh escaped her.

He splayed a hand over her lower back and crushed her hips to his. The action sent a dark thrill through her belly, and lower, between her thighs.



Jens skimmed the crest of her buttocks with his fingers. “I love you in this skirt, Laurel. When are you gonna let me peel it off you?”



His baritone rumbled against her ear and raised every hair on her body. Was this the night she let the rough-and-tumble country boy make it past second base? Being stretched out beneath him, gaining and delivering pleasure, seemed the best way to spend a weekend.

Better than being alone, scouring seed catalogs for the best deals.

She fiddled with a strand of hair clinging to the perspiration on her temple. For two months, she’d been asking herself if he was the one—if she could let him past the barricade she’d erected around her heart.


When she didn’t answer him, Jens continued to twirl her around the dance floor, easily navigating between other swaying bodies. He was one hell of a dancer, and he was also used to her ignoring his advances. Countless times he’d asked her to spend the night with him, but even after two months of dating, she wasn’t ready.


It wasn’t because the man was lacking in any way. Oh no. At six foot tall, with shoulders made bulky from wrangling livestock and farm equipment, he was wanted by every girl in the small town of Reedy.

But that was just his body. His eyes were the true allure. Sapphire and twinkling with life, he’d hooked Laurel from the moment he’d pierced her with that gaze.

He nudged her away from him, twirled her and reeled her back in. Their hips bumped and his erection pressed against her aching flesh.


He gave a huff of laughter. “You caught me. I can’t help it. I’m wild about you, darlin’.”


For a moment, she lost herself in his bright gaze. His cowboy hat was tugged low over his brow, but the depths of his baby blues glittered with desire. Laurel’s nipples hardened, and the knot in her core tightened. Why was she dragging her heels with Jens? He was everything a woman could want—sexy, a hard worker, a great dancer, and he even grilled a mean steak.

The music pitched lower and the singer crooned love words. Jens looked deep into Laurel’s eyes. Cupping her face in one big palm, he leaned in slowly. His scent dizzied her—mint and a hint of the beer he’d drank, as well as cologne. Washed cotton shirt and leather boots.

One hundred percent man.

Laurel and Jens rocked back and forth, with him singing in a low voice that sent white-hot electricity through her heated limbs.

In that minute, the warm cocoon of his arms was the only place she wanted to be.

He dropped his full lips to hers and she couldn’t suppress a shudder of want. Jens squeezed her to him, drawing her onto tiptoe and somehow still undulating to the beat. He pressed on her lips with his tongue, and she opened to him.

Sensation was a punch to her system as he slipped his tongue over hers. The bodies around

them disappeared, the clank of beer bottles and the hum of voices vanished.


“What the—? Laurel?”


She jerked at the sound of that familiar voice—the only other voice to ever send her spinning out of control. Jens released her, and they turned as one to face the reason she continued to hold Jens at arm’s length—the reason she wasn’t ready to take their relationship to the next level.

Holden McAlister.

Thanks for stopping by and a huge thanks to Lynn for hosting me!


Em Petrova

~where words mean so much more~


From → Uncategorized

Leave a Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: