I’m sharing an extract today for Reading Between the Lines by Jo Merrett, but first here is a little bit about the book.
Sexy, sassy, saucy…
…and a little bit unsure.
Ballsy reporter, Kate Cleaver, doesn’t just sit back and wait for things to happen. She’s a modern woman with a voracious sexual appetite who takes life – and men – by the balls.
But, like most women, Kate’s not immune to the inevitable hurdles and heartbreak that threaten to derail her carefully lain plans.
The Record is a dozy, weekly rag. It holds little appeal for someone like Kate, with her sights set on the glamour of national journalism. But, before she leaves the council meetings and cat shows behind, there’s one particular exclusive she’s itching to get her hands on:
Chief Reporter, Aidan Tindall.
Reading Between the Lines is a rollercoaster of sexual freedom and angst-ridden rejection, self-doubt and reckless ambition, office flings and 2am gin soaked confessions.
Because what you want in life, isn’t always what you need…
Why are some men so cocky? He’s not really my type: Lightly tanned from spending every weekend (and evening, he tells me), over the last month on a surfboard, he’s also a little shorter than I’d normally go for. In my new heels his eyes are just level with the bridge of my nose, and judging by the knackered looking VW camper parked outside that he’s clarified belongs to him, money and prospects are not his prime concern. My mouth’s beginning to feel sticky. I really need that water. The biggest problem I have with Mark is his hair. It is the longest hair I have ever seen on a man with the exception of a heavy metal musician, and I’ve never met one in the flesh so that doesn’t really count. As a rule, I don’t do men with hair longer than mine. I prefer a short back and sides. Oooh, I’m feeling quite sick now. “I just need to get some…” Still pinioned against the kitchen cabinets because he won’t move that leg, I can just about twist round and, leaning backwards and sideways at the same time, reach the cold tap. The hem of my top rides up, exposing my bare waist and Mark brushes his fingers lightly over my skin. A tingle shivers through me. Nudging the tap on I fill my glass and down it in one. Oh, that feels better already. I steady myself against the kitchen worktop and look at Mark. He is really quite attractive, with a strong jaw, enhanced by a light smattering of very dark stubble, piercing blue-grey eyes and full, soft-looking lips that I am becoming more and more inclined to kiss.
The insistent thigh is now firmly wedging itself higher between my own, and God it’s strong. I can feel the definition of the muscles through the material, and that’s not all. Glancing downwards, the outline of a generous, nicely firming up erection is beginning to become quite visible and he thrusts his hips forcefully towards mine. Jesus! Is it getting hot in here or is it just me? Ooh, deep breath Kate, deep breath. It does seem to be a promising cock. Oh to hell with it. I can overlook the hair. I stop resisting and pull him in for a kiss. Letting Mark prise my lips apart with his probing tongue, I give into the sensation that coupled with the copious amounts of champagne I’ve drunk is giving me serious head spin. Oh he’s a good kisser. We’re still necking like a couple of teenagers as we fall out of a cab thirty minutes later. I fumble with the key in the front door, which is no easy feat as the bulb has gone in the porch light and none of us can be bothered to replace it.
Mark’s tongue is still swirling like caramel in my mouth, affecting my powers of control and inhibiting my concentration. I force him away for long enough to drag him up the two flights of stairs to my room. We fall through the doorway and on to the bed, kicking the door shut behind us.
FOLLOW THE TOUR