Now, it’s not due to be released until November but as I received the wonderful cover from the awesomely talented Alessia Brio the other day I thought it’d be nice to blog about the sequel to Getting Physical.
Getting intimate carries on from where Getting Physical left off. Here’s the blurb:
It’s been almost six months since Terri and John first met and fell in love at the gym and John wants to think of something special to mark their anniversary. Terri is convinced that John is secretly seeing one of the skinny gym girls and her paranoia pushes her away from him. She thinks that she is too fat to hold the attention of such a fit guy.
John must think of a way to convince Terri that he really loves her sexy, curvaceous body and that nobody could take her place or face losing her forever.
I hope you are all as excited as I am about this sequel. It will actually be part 2 of a trilogy of stories featuring John and Terri. They’re great characters and I love writing about them. Here’s a little snippet from Getting Physical so you can get to know them a little better too
I think it was those fine buttocks that provoked my unscheduled gym stop after work. I had my gear in the car from an earlier aborted session. On a whim, I turned left instead of right out of the company car park and headed to the gym.
I’d worked late that day, so it was quiet when I pulled into the gym’s car park. I guessed everyone else had somewhere to be on the evening of the day before Valentine’s Day. I’ve always been a receptacle half-full kind of girl, so I buried all the negatives associated to being single at that time of year and concentrated on the positives of the night’s work out. I would have the changing rooms all to myself, and I was almost guaranteed there would be hot water left in the shower by the time I was ready to leave.
I parked close to the gloomy, stale bread-coloured building, directly below a street light casting marmalade illumination all around. Typical of me to see nothing but food all around me when I was on my way to exercise.
It was strangely quiet in the parking lot. My heart was thumping a bit too quickly. I strode round to the boot, clicked it open, and grabbed my workout bag. Thumping the door back down, I heard the echo and then focused on the tap, tap of my sensible work heels on the tarmac.
I’d parked near the door, so I didn’t have far to walk. But just as I came towards the sliding doors, I felt a hand grab hold of my arm and throw me up against the wall. My breath left me with a groan of surprise. All I could feel was a large, hard body pressed up against me and a strong hand still squeezing at my arm. My face was confronted by a chest, my nostrils flared against the cotton as I panicked.
“Purse, lady. Where the hell is your fucking purse?”
“I…I…” I stammered. He pulled back from me, allowing me to get a large lungful of air. “HELP!” I screamed once, loudly, before his hand slapped over my mouth, and his other loosened its grip to prod, poke, and squeeze at my flesh.
“Fuck off!” At the sound of that familiar voice, the weight on top of me was gone. I heard the lolloping rhythm of someone running away as quick as their long legs would carry them. I collapsed to the pavement, gasping. My mind was filled with black cotton. My body shook. I was still panicking, the material blocking my breathing.
“Terri! Are you okay?”
I looked up and through bleary eyes; I saw him, and burst into tears.
* * * *
How was a man meant to deal with a crying woman? I hadn’t a clue.
“Hush now, hush. It’s okay.” I just said the first words that came to mind. Gently, I touched her right shoulder. She flinched, as if in pain.
“Sorry.” I gasped. “I just want to help you into the gym, and then I’ll get you a drink.”
She didn’t respond to my words. Her body shook, and her eyes were glazed with tears.
I was totally out of my depth. I’m not good with women, especially when they get allâ€”you knowâ€”emotional. I felt her hand on my thigh and realised she was attempting to stand up. I bent to help, and our heads smacked together with some force.
“I’m sorry!” I pulled her to her feet and placed my arm around her waist to steady her. She shook her head, either to indicate it didn’t matter or possibly to tell me that I was a total wanker and should piss off. I plumped for the first option and kept my arm where it was, then gently led her in through the widespread doors of the gym.
I got her to reception, where Frank found her a chair and ran off to get her a glass of water. She was shaking so violently that I looked round for something to wrap round her shoulders. I saw a fleece jacket hanging on the back wall, picked it up, and draped it over her shoulders. For the first time that evening, she acknowledged me with a smile, making my heart pound and my cheeks flush.
I grabbed a chair and sat next to her, my hand resting on her knee.
“How are you doing?” Frank asked passing her a plastic cup filled with water.
“I…I’m okay, now.” She smiled, shakily.
“Do you want me to phone the police?”
“No. No thanks.” She sighed. “He got nothing; I didn’t have my purse on me. He just shook me up, that’s all. I didn’t see him anyway. No point ringing them, they’d not… I’d only… no, thanks.”
The poor girl stuttered and burst into another flood of tears. Frank looked on, his middle aged face covered in the helplessness that I felt. He shrugged at me and I nodded, excusing him to go back to reception and do his job. I would take care of Terri, somehow.