The first of my Falcon Football books, SLOW AND STEADY RUSH, is on the (virtual) shelves! I'm so excited, and I'd thought it'd been fun to feature a few of the recipes I talk about and a snippet of the scene that features the food. In the coming months leading up to the release of CAUGHT UP IN THE TOUCH, Book 2, I'll even give you a couple of previews of the next book. Logan Wilde is a chef, after all. I have a newsletter signup at the right if you're interested in more information. Check back next Wednesday to see what's next...
RT book reviews
"...a marvelously funny, engaging, and memorable romance in a place where everyone knows your name."
This is labor intensive, but once you’ve had Ada’s version, you’ll never be satisfied with instant pudding. Ada and Darcy both recommend eating while still warm. Leftovers can be refrigerated. And if you even mention marshmallows or meringue, you will not be invited back for seconds! (A printable version is available HERE.)
1 cup sugar
½ cup all-purpose flour
½ tsp salt
2 cups milk
1 tsp vanilla
1 tbsp butter
4 egg yolks
1 box vanilla wafers
4-5 ripe bananas
1. Layer ½ box of wafers and ½ bananas (sliced) in bottom of 9X13 baking dish.
2. Combine sugar, flour, salt and mix well.
3. In saucepan, beat egg yolks well. Start over med-high heat.
4. Add dry mix and milk. Stir constantly.
5. When mix reaches pudding consistency (takes 10-15 minutes), remove from heat and add butter and vanilla.
6. Pour half on wafer/bananas. Layer with remaining wafers and sliced bananas. Pour remaining pudding on top.
His mouth descended. Even though he accepted that he should keep his hands off, his subconscious refused to abide by the logical commands. His tongue coasted along the length of her full, soft upper lip before he pulled it into his mouth. She tasted sweet, like the banana pudding behind her.
He deserved a slap, half-expected one, but instead she delved fingers into his hair and knocked his baseball cap to the floor. Her body melded with his without any encouragement from his hands, which were free to wander up and down her back.
Surrendering to the madness, he shoved the banana pudding to the side and lifted her to sit on the counter, their faces level. Her knees parted, and he stepped into the void. Her heels on his butt pulled him tight against her. God, she was little, but curved and soft and all woman. He pressed into the fullness of her breasts.
Her skirt rode high, an invitation for his hands to coast up bare, silky thighs. He accepted. They moved under her skirt to her hips. The callused tips of his fingers caught on the smooth, satiny fabric of her panties. Her tongue slipped into his mouth. An involuntary groan rose from his chest before he returned the favor, curling his tongue against hers. She pulled at his shoulders, her fingernails scratching through the cotton of his shirt.
He’d kissed her for a very simple reason. He wanted to. His anger and hurt had given him the excuse. It would have been better if she’d been outraged and slapped him away, shamed him out of this attraction. Instead, she turned into a wildcat in his arms. He wanted to shove her panties to the side and tame her.
Avery growled from the door. Could the dog sense Darcy was an imminent threat to Robbie’s sanity? He broke the kiss and heaved in slow, deep breaths. She blinked languorously, her pupils dilated, as if waking from a dream. Her lips were swollen and rosy, and color slashed her cheeks. He wanted her bad. A lurch of fear rocked his stomach, and he threw up walls to protect himself.
Robbie’s kiss stole all logical threads of thought, hurtling her into a territory where only sensations were processed. His soft hair under her fingers, the hard planes of his chest against her breasts, the rough denim abrading her inner thighs, his hands squeezing her hips. But, mostly, his lips and tongue as they worked her into an aroused frenzy.
His mouth drew away from hers, and she floated in the tumultuous aftermath. His face was cast of stone, any sort of gentleness she’d felt in his kiss not reflected in his frigid eyes or frowning mouth. He slid his hands down her legs to pry her ankles from around his hips.
He left her to teeter on the edge of the counter, legs spread wantonly. Forces of nature held true no matter the tipping of her world on its axis, and gravity pulled her to the floor, knees wobbly and hands shaking. After roving his gaze down her body and back to her face, he turned and moved toward the door.
His sudden pivot back made her inhale sharply. In two steps, he had her bracketed between his arms, both his hands on the counter. Their bodies were so close, his heat, his desire pulsed like a living thing, yet he didn’t press into her or touch her in any way.
“I want—” he whispered.
“Yes,” she said, ending on a hiss.
She wanted it too. Wanted him more than she’d ever wanted a man. She’d never felt this needy, this wild. Her legs rocked open, and she rose on her toes. She craved the touch of his hands. He could take her here or carry her to her room. It didn’t matter where he claimed her. It didn’t matter who saw them. They inhaled in synchronicity. She tilted her face to his . . .
“. . . my damn pudding.”
His tensed bicep brushed her sensitive breasts. He tucked the casserole dish under his arm like a football. Performing a militarily precise about-face, he stalked to the door. Avery cut off mid-growl, his head swiveling between them.
A potent combination of anger, lust, and humiliation jolted her body into action. His cap lay on the floor and she kicked it, launching it to the ceiling. Avery caught it on a jump and loped after Robbie. He stopped to retrieve it from his dog’s mouth and mashed it on his head. Avery received a stiff, but gentle pat. Man and dog disappeared around the corner of the house.
She stared out the screen door. A breeze rustled the roses climbing the trellis, the scent at odds with the bile climbing her throat. The spray and crunch of gravel under spinning wheels unstuck her. She picked up the nearest thing to her hand and hurled it at the screen. The overly ripe banana splattered on the floor, leaving a goopy, sweet-smelling mess.
Damn him to hell.