Hello! And thanks so much to Hailey for allowing me to drop by here today on my Mini Adventures tour. This is a super exciting week! In celebration of my new book, Personal Adventures, I’m making the rounds, talking about some of the adventures I’ve had. So far I’ve dished about learning to love adventure as a kid, stepping into the unknown as a teen and living in a foreign country. Yesterday I talked about my love of the road trip in college.
It’s been a few years since I was in college, and sometimes it seems as if my adventures I once loved so much, are fewer and farther in between. I try to make every day things exciting, like moving for example, but let’s face it, there’s nothing fun about moving except getting away from some nasty neighbors or poor management.
Recently, I moved apartments, and while I was moving and unboxing books, I sat down and flipped through this small book I was told to read in a youth sociology class in college. There was one chapter that stuck out to me then, and I found myself rereading it. The author describes getting his grandson out of bed, he’s old enough to walk around, and he’s never seen snow. The family has orchestrated this moment, they take their precious child and they open the side door and set him down in the fresh snow and turn on the lights. The point of the chapter was learning to see things with the wonder of a child for the first time.
As I read that chapter, sitting among my boxes and the disarray that is bound to happen when you move, I didn’t have an epiphany or any life altering thoughts. I merely shelved the book and kept going. What has stuck with me was the story, and looking for the possibility of an adventure.
I have a college friend that until recently lived near me and was usually up to try anything. Her and I made a mean team that way, because if there was something going on, say a street arts festival, or a really weird restaurant or a random play, I could call her up and we would go within minutes of suggesting it. We’ve discovered several restaurants so immersed in their ethnic culture that we were the only ones who spoke English. We wound up seeing one of the first movies to celebrate homosexuality in Middle Eastern countries. We were open to the little adventures around us.
Sometimes I wonder if that’s what makes me write. If that’s why I want to create stories, for the sense of adventure, but I’m not smart enough to tell you my deep, psychological reason for writing. I can just tell you that I’ve had some of the most fun on these little adventures. Day trips, a few hours, being open to the chance for something new makes all the difference in the world.
I’m going to give away a copy of my book, Personal Adventures, and a $5 gift card to the winner’s choice of either Barnes & Noble or Amazon. To enter, answer the following question. The contest will end in 48 hours, and the winner will be chosen at random.
Is there something you’ve been wanting to try lately, but haven’t made the time to yet?
It can never be said that Sidney Bristol has had a ‘normal’ life. She is a recovering roller derby queen, former missionary, and tattoo addict. She grew up in a motor-home on the US highways (with an occasional jaunt into Canada and Mexico), traveling the rodeo circuit with her parents. Sidney has lived abroad in both Russia and Thailand, working with children and teenagers. She now lives in Texas where she splits her time between a job she loves, writing, reading and belly dancing.
Carey’s had the hots for his best friend and outdoor adventures coworker Elise for two years, but the timing has never been right. Now they’re both single and Carey wants to entice her into an adventure that’s about just the two of them. In the bedroom, in the hot tub, under the beautiful Colorado sky…
Elise doesn’t buy into the idea of love, but lust she understands. Carey’s friendship is important, but a relationship doesn’t fit into Elise’s five-year plan. She isn’t looking to repeat her parents’ mistakes.
With secrets coming out from under every rock and desire unchecked, this adventure might make more than the water on their rafting trips rush
Elise gulped down a deep breath to steady her nerves and pushed away from the shed. Her stomach fluttered and her palms were moist. The cool evening air caressed her legs and whispered up her skirt, kissing bare flesh. Her nipples were tight, hard peaks. She had tried to find her one real bra with actual lace, but it had been a lost cause. If it wasn’t for her lack of breasts she could have borrowed one of her roommates’ bras like she’d “borrowed” the dress she wore. Her breasts weren’t much more than walnuts, but it was the idea of getting ready that had mattered at the time. She didn’t typically need to wear a bra and she never wore a dress, but she’d do both for Carey.
Ahead, light spilled from every window in the cabin. The tall pines stood sentinel around it. It was a beautiful home he’d had built not long after taking the job at Adventures. She’d been jealous of it in the beginning, but she spent a lot of time there, so she got to enjoy it almost as much as he did.
The house was a variation of the single-room cabins settlers used to build, very no-nonsense. A dividing wall separated his bedroom from the rest of the house, and the bathroom had an entrance into both spaces. The front and back porches made up three fourths of the square footage of the actual house, and more often than not was where they hung out. Again, he’d used local people to build it. In true bachelor style, it was furnished with comfort in mind, but that was how she liked things as well, so she had no complaint about the cabin or Carey. Except that she wanted what he had.
As she stepped around the truck, her stomach threatened to mutiny. Who was she kidding? She didn’t have any business being here.
Movement in the far right window rooted her to the spot. Had he seen her? If he hadn’t, maybe she could back out of the drive and leave. Peering at the window, she waited for any sign that she might have been seen.
Carey stepped into view, perfectly framed by the window, buck-ass naked. And what a nice ass it was. The round globes were as tan as his chest. Elise imagined him sunbathing naked on the rocks behind his house. Her mouth dried. Wide shoulders tapered to a stomach she knew was firm and flat. He was muscular from hours of hard work, not hanging out at a gym. The tattoo circling his right arm stood out as the only bit of color. She’d gone with him to get the tattoo and let him squeeze her hand. It was a simple black silhouette of the mountains, but it symbolized his love for the great outdoors.
He turned, giving her a profile shot. His head tipped forward and his hand grasped his cock. He didn’t jerk himself hard, but it was a strong touch, sliding up his stiff flesh.
Oh god. Elise’s heart knocked against her chest and her breath hitched. She wanted to do that. She wanted to feel his skin against her palm, caress him in a way that would make him groan.
Her knees wavered at the hedonistic thoughts. Swaying, she caught herself with a hand against the hood of his truck.
The headlights flashed and the horn began honking. Elise yelped and jumped back, her heart racing as the continuous sounds of the alarm echoed through the night. She looked from the truck to the window—
Carey was gone.