Passages from my self-published romance novels, available for immediate purchase

Purchase the following titles wherever fine paperbacks are sold.

The Mysteries of Love
Published: 1997, Harcoyrt/Brase, Inc.

"I find myself attracted to you," he said, approaching her slowly and loosening his tie.

She blushed, knowing full well that he only loosened his tie when he found himself attracted to women. She also knew that, when attracted, he tended to make a move.

"I find myself also wanting to make a move on you," he added, removing his glasses and regarding her intently. She squirmed and blushed some more under his intent regarding, and realized that, within moments, what with the tie-loosening, glasses-removing and intent regarding, that there would soon be romance between the two of them...

Love in the Dot-Com Bubble
Published: 1999, Crown-Dundee, Inc.

Jameson leaned back in his office chair and laced his fingers together. "All right, Miss Templeton, in your duty of secretary, I'll be needing you to take appointments for me. Is that a problem?"

"No, Mr. Jameson," Miss Templeton said, clenching a pen between her teeth and making obscene gestures with it. "I think we understand each other quite well."

"I do too, Miss Templeton. In fact, I'll go even further: I want to sandwich in some lovemaking with you between my ten o'clock meeting and my teleconference with Beijing at eleven."

Miss Templeton examined Mr. Jameson's appointment book carefully. "I think we have just enough time, sir. I can push the teleconference ahead, if you think that's going to be necessary for us to finish lovemaking in time."

"I like your confidence, Miss Templeton. Put the teleconference at five after eleven."

"Yes sir, Mr. Jameson."

"And now, if you've done your job and scheduled the time, I will make sweet love to you."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Jameson. You will."

When I Get Passionate (I Also Get Stupid)
Published: 2001, Park Lake, Inc.

George Edison walked into his swank Upper West Side apartment just after six p.m. He slung his jacket in a corner and turned on the television real loud. He made himself a bourbon and water, slamming ice cubes into the glass with maximum force and noise, and made sure to belch loudly several times before shouting, "Jessica! Where's my dinner?"

He heard nothing. Glancing about the apartment, he saw his wife's coat and purse lying on the sofa, next to a pair of man's shoes, a suit coat, pair of pants and silk underwear he didn't remember leaving there. Shrugging, he finished his drink and walked towards the bedroom.

The door was slightly ajar. He went to push it open, then paused.

"Is your husband home?" he heard a male voice asking. "I don't want him to catch us together, making love."

"No, lover," his wife's voice responded. "Don't worry. I locked the door hours ago, and he'll be at work until six."

"Then there's plenty of time for us to finish making love."

"Yes, lover. Plenty of time. For lovemaking."

George frowned again. Something seemed suspicious...