Friday, November 22, 2013

Meet the Author... Eva Lefoy!

Happy November all!

Well it was just about this time last year when I was finishing my sexy pastry chef story, Sweet Cravings, and submitting it for publication to Decadent Publishing. The story features a French-trained pastry chef extraordinaire, and a plus sized woman with a serious craving for raspberry cream puffs. Except there was one problem….

I’d never had a raspberry cream puff before!

When my writing group got wind of this fact, it was off to Nancy’s kitchen on a chilly November day to make a batch of yummy, powdered sugar coated, whipped cream-filled delights. Mmmm. I still drool just thinking about tasting them afterwards! So I guess you can say I can totally relate to my character Violet.

And what’s wrong with that? Absolutely nothing, I say!

Hope you enjoy the excerpt. *winks*


Here’s the blurb for Sweet Cravings:

Riding the waves of a sugar high, Violet Cunningham seduces the town’s newest pastry chef, slathering him with whipped cream in his secret kitchen. But all that is made of sugar melts, and her brazenness vanishes along with it, leaving her alone once again with her insecurities. Deciding to avoid temptation, she’s mortified when her boss sends her back to sexy chef Max’s kitchen to ask him to cater a company dinner.

After he turns the tables and seduces her, Max disappears the next morning. Violet blames herself but is it true or her old fears talking? When stray pastries show up at work, there’s only one man that could be responsible… and this time she refuses be distracted by creamy temptation. Well… maybe just a little…


Excerpt:

I ducked into the kitchen before the bored-looking maître d’ could accost me and found myself heating up at the sight of a stainless steel table. Sous-chefs in white hats and dishwashers with racks of clean plates bustled back and forth down the aisle in front of me, but I didn’t spot the pastry chef in their midst. I almost gave up and left before noticing the light was on in the “secret kitchen.” I gulped.
My knees went weak, and I stood frozen to the spot. Inside me, determination, embarrassment, and heady desire warred. I wanted so bad to turn and walk out, find another caterer, and be done with it. But I couldn’t. There’d be questions. Chuck would want to know why he wasn’t getting the best French-trained chef in town, and I’d be up shit creek without a paddle. What could I say? Sorry, I didn’t mean to have hot, sweaty sex with the guy—if I’d known you’d need him the next week, I would have waited? 
Remembering the hot sex had my traitorous feet moving forward, toward the door instead of away. Wrong direction, I told them. Shut up and go with it, my pussy ordered. I bit my lip, swallowed my pride, and knocked.
The door opened and the man himself appeared wearing a chef’s coat splattered with pretty light pink frosting and powdered sugar. One whiff of him convinced me he’d taste positively delicious. My stomach let out a loud rumble, and I put my hand over it to try and squelch the embarrassing sound. 
His mouth fell open when he caught sight of me. In fact, he seemed kind of stunned for a second. My fight-or-flight response kicked in. I swiveled on my heel, but he grabbed my elbow and tugged me inside his secret domain once more. “Mademoiselle,” he murmured low and rich as fudge pudding. “How nice to see you again. Please, come in.” 
I glanced at his face from under my lashes and found him smiling at me, looking as though he might actually be glad to see me again. Part of me stiffened, vibrating with nervous energy. The rest of me tingled in saucy anticipation. The promise of man and dessert made one once more for my licking pleasure had me close to giggling with happiness as the door snicked shut. As he twirled me in his arms and drew me close, the all-important notes clutched in my hand could have jumped a shuttle for Mars for all I cared. 
His mouth surged over mine, his lips warm, wet, and insistent, as though he needed to make up for lost time. I heartily seconded the sentiment, and the kiss turned from buttery hot and soft to spicy and decadent with a touch of dare.
I opened my mouth to let his tongue in, and we both moaned at the intrusion, his hips bucking against mine as he pressed my butt into the table. I clutched his shoulders, pulling him closer as my initial embarrassment waned. He tasted of sweet pastry, and I savored the flavor as I relaxed in his arms. God, the hungers the man awoke in me with just one kiss! 
I’d dressed “professionally” for the occasion—stockings, skirt, silk work blouse, light blazer, and heels—so it wasn’t a surprise to feel the heat of his hand brush along the smooth stocking covering my thigh. But I let out a yelp as his strong fingers ripped through the material and pushed the stocking aside, delving under the crotch of my panties, headed directly toward my wetness. 
“Spread for me,” he growled. 
My sex clenched but my tremulous legs parted, obeying his command to give him easy access. Long, thick fingers slid through my dampness until they were coated with my slick cream before plunging inside my wet core. I moaned into his kiss at the glorious pressure and he chuckled. His other arm held me close as his mouth continued to plunder mine, setting up a tantalizing rhythm with his tongue and his fingers that my body could not ignore. My head rolled back and my hips rocked into his thrusts. I emitted soft, mewling cries every time his cock ground against my clit. It felt so good I thought I’d died and gone to pink frosting heaven. “Oh, God. Please. Just a little more….”
He quickly upped his game, nibbling down the column of my neck and then moving his fingers up to my clit, circling it with my own slippery juices until I was on the brink of breaking apart and screaming my head off. Then he abruptly pulled his hand away. “Dinner.”
“W-what?” Every brain cell in my mind struggled to comprehend the concept of language. It seemed so foreign, so far away, so unnecessary. My hot button throbbed with frustration. I’d been so close…. 
“Dinner. Have dinner with me. I promise you won’t be disappointed.” 
I panted, trying to form words. No matter how I rocked my hips, he remained just out of reach from where I needed him most. My fingers dug into his back, silently demanding satisfaction. But he gave me none. 
“Say yes,” he commanded. “Or this ends here. Now.”
His demand seemed simple enough and since agreeing would get me everything I so badly wanted I said, “Yes.” 
See what else Violet and her sexy chef Max do in his secret kitchen, and if you have time, whip up a batch of cream puffs to eat while you read! (Recipe included in book).

Bon appétit!

Eva

Eva Lefoy writes and reads all kinds of romance, and is a certified Trekkie. She’s also terribly addicted to chocolate, tea, and hiking. One of these days, she’ll figure out the meaning of life, quit her job, and go travel the galaxy. Until then, she’s writing down all her dirty thoughts for the sake of future explorers.



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