Time for some Night Music...

Buy Night Music HERE

By Margie Church 

One of the things I state in my bio is that I use unique situations in my books to create a fresh story. When I wrote Night Music, I thought about how bland Brielle's life was. She's a concert cellist and she's suffering from a breakup. Part of that is so clichéd, the other is downright boring. What could I do to do make her short story electric and edgy?

Two leather-wearing bikers, who play it both ways, seemed to be an interesting start. When Brielle realizes these guys aren't gay, she packs up her inhibitions like her cello at the end of the season. If only for one night, Brielle turns into the woman she has fantasized about being. Don't get me wrong, she doesn't do a personality switch the minute she lays eyes on Zeke and Tyler, but you sense she's been holding back a long, long time. She's never been in a situation such as this and she's going for it. She embraces her sexuality and the passion two men show toward her. Afterward, she's thanking her lucky stars that "what's his face" dumped her just before vacation.  At the end of Night Music, you sense that these three have a connection. I bet Brielle, Zeke and Tyler are going to vacation together in the future, too. Lucky woman.

Enjoy a short excerpt from Night Music, and buy the book at Decadent Publishing!

Brielle had stopped at the local market to get enough supplies for a few days. She had no intention of going to town unless there was a darn good reason. After her clothing and other belongings were unpacked, she opened a bottle of wine—one of several she’d bought—and contemplated the glorious evening sun.

The rumble of motorcycles disrupted her musings. She craned her neck to see who the offenders were.

Two men on leather-bedecked hogs cruised down the neighboring driveway. She watched from the seclusion of her covered porch as they got off and parked their bikes. Leather chaps covered their jeans. Boots and black leather vests made them look badass. She waited for them to remove their helmets and reveal more of their features.

She wasn’t disappointed.

One of the broad-shouldered men had flaxen hair. The second man ran his hands through his dark hair that reached his shoulders. Even from a distance, she could tell they were in good physical shape, and probably in their late twenties. A twinge of naughtiness plucked her libido. Her vacation was already looking up.

The bike-riding neighbors unpacked their saddlebags and carried their gear into their cabin. The door shut softly behind them and returned the peace and quiet they’d interrupted.

Brielle watched the sun dip lower, streaking the sky with brilliant red, orange, and yellow against the clear blue backdrop. The deep sounds of a motoryacht’s engines mixed with the haunting sounds from the loons.

Inspired, she refilled her wineglass, and then brought her cello to the three-season porch. She moved her bow across the taut strings, warming up, wondering what she should play. She sipped her wine while searching through her extensive music collection. Her hand rested on Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. Did she dare? Could she play with even half the passion Mei Ju had the other day?

Closing her eyes, Brielle focused on the sounds and sight of Mr. Ju on stage.

Will that ever be me?

She drew her bow back and forth on the strings to play the fiery interludes and soulful chords. Brielle imagined herself in front of the orchestra, the way Ju had been, and did her best to do justice to the piece he’d played so brilliantly.

As she played the last, low note, she noticed the two men standing on their porch, watching her. Heat flared in her cheeks, whether from the exertion of playing or the embarrassment of their witness, she didn’t know.

One man began clapping.

Not expecting that reaction, she chuckled.

“Play something else,” said the man with the long hair.

Thinking they were making fun of her, she closed her music and stood. “Funny guy.”

“No, really, play some more.”

She contemplated the request for a moment. “You’re not going to call the cops?”

The blond one laughed. “Oh, hell no. Come on. Play something hot and sexy.”

Bolstered by their enthusiasm, she wondered what she could play that might fit the bill. “Just a minute.” A number of titles ran through her mind and she dismissed them all. Ah, the perfect one. 

Learn more about Margie at her website: www.RomanceWithSASS.com