Welcome to day 3 of ménage week and to author Samantha Ann King!
USA Today bestselling author Samantha Ann King was born and raised in Houston, Texas. After receiving her BBA in Finance from Texas A&M University and marrying her high school crush (notice she didn’t say sweetheart), Samantha relinquished her “native Texan” status and moved to Baton Rouge. She has called Albuquerque, New Mexico home since 1985. The mother of three has volunteered in the community as an advocate for children’s issues ranging from education to healthcare. In 2010, as her nest started to empty, she began writing erotic romance. Thanks to her win in Passionate Ink’s Stroke of Midnight Contest, Samantha signed her first publishing contract in 2011. Her first book was nominated for RT’s 2012 Reviewers’ Choice Award.
Do You Remember Your First Ménage? by Samantha Ann King
Do you remember your first ménage?
Mine was Colters’ Woman by Maya Banks. When I first saw the title I thought, “Do I really want to read a book so badly copyedited that they couldn’t get the grammar right in the title? It should read Coulter’s Woman or Colters’ Women. But Colters’ Woman?” Come on people, get your possessives straight.
Picture me drumming my fingers on my laptop as I wait for your snorts of laughter to die.
Got it out of your system? Great! Let’s move on.
I didn’t let that imagined lapse of copyediting deter me. I read the back cover blurb. “Ahhh, it all makes sense now.” Yes, Maya Banks’s Colters’ Woman was my introduction to ménage romance. Love it or hate it, you can’t deny its influence on erotic romance publishing. (BTW, I was in the love it camp.)
My second ménage, even though it wasn’t a romance, was Tempted by Megan Hart. It’s no secret that I’m a Megan Hart addict. Her blend of steamy sex scenes and gut-wrenching emotion is impossible to resist. Next was Lauren Dane’s Laid Bare. It was my first MMF. More importantly, it resonated with me because I had something in common with the heroine—the loss of a child and all the grief and self-blame that comes with it. Just one of the many things Dane does right!
There have been several ménages over the years that have stuck with me: Rough Raw and Ready by Lorelei James; No Holds Barred by Callie Croix; The Gift of Shayla by N.J. Walters; Tangled Past by Leah Braemel; and The Reluctant Dom (I swore I wouldn’t cry, but I did) by Tymber Dalton.
When it comes to writing ménage, I like the challenge of exploring the sexual and emotional dynamics of three people in love: the reality of societal reactions as well as communication within the triad; the fantasy of men who cater to a woman’s every desire (including in the kitchen!) and who maybe have a touch of the Dom in them; and of course, the happily-ever-after. I hope you’ll find all of that in Tempting Meredith.
So, what was your first ménage? Have you been initiated yet? Have I tempted you to try one?
Here’s a little more about Tempting Meredith:
Astrophysicist Meredith Burke’s professional life is perfect. Her personal life is another story. Years ago, a ménage with the man she loved and his roommate left her with a broken heart and a secret. She hasn’t trusted anyone since, but when she meets rugged hunting guide Charlie Connor she figures she doesn’t need to. He’s got “one night stand” written all over him.
After one night with Meredith, Charlie needs more. She’s intoxicating, and shockingly willing to give him total control of her body. When she agrees to spend an entire week with him at the lodge where he works, it’s more than he’d hoped for. But Blaine Bridges, Charlie’s best friend and boss, has his own secrets.
Blaine hasn’t seen Meredith since that disastrous encounter eight years ago, but he still has feelings for her. Now she’s dating his best friend, the man he wants for himself. When Meredith invites him to join in their naughty play, his pleasure is all-consuming. But will the secrets they all hold close destroy a beautiful beginning or bring these three lovers closer than they ever imagined?
In Meredith’s experience, once a man started to share his breadth of knowledge on a subject, only an act of God could stop him, and even that was iffy. So she listened to what’s-his-name’s informal physics lecture. Not string cosmology or misaligned stellar dynamics or dark matter, but Physics 101. Basic p=mv stuff. She reminded herself that he couldn’t know she played with atoms in her sleep. Literally. She got some of her most creative solutions in dreamland. Instead, she sipped her iced tea and tried to keep her gaze from straying to the windows overlooking the gun range.
That proved difficult, because the instructor for her basic firearms class was there. On the range. She mentally thanked Darrell Williams, her grad student, for recommending Charlie Connor. Not only was he an exceptional instructor, but he was cute. Auburn hair, blue eyes, a short-cropped beard and mustache. She’d never been into facial hair, not even those trendy three-day beards all the male celebrities wore, but Charlie had changed her mind. Very light freckles across the bridge of his nose. Those freckles were the cute part. Because the way he moved and held himself…mmm-mmm good. No, there was nothing cute about the way he moved. For the last two days she’d watched him move. Watched his hands as he unloaded, loaded and fired various rifles, shotguns and handguns. Imagined those hands loading and unloading her. Watched him pacing in front of the gun safety class and striding up and down the firing range, faded worn jeans hugging his narrow ass, his legs eating up the ground when he was in a hurry, which only happened when he spotted a safety problem on the range.
What’s-his-name touched her arm, and she jerked and stepped away, glaring at him. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him he was wasting his breath, but just then Darrell strolled up.
“Hey. How’s the lesson going?” her grad student asked. Darrell was the reason she’d chosen this particular gun club. He worked here on weekends.
Her physics lecturer spoke up. “I was just explaining the physicality of firearms.”
Darrell’s head swiveled back and forth between them. “Huh?” She’d never seen him so confused. Not even when she gifted him with an as-yet-unsolvable astrophysics problem.
What’s-his-name shook his head. “Kids these days. They’re too busy playing with their iStuff to pay attention in class.” He narrowed his eyes at Darrell. “Physics, boy. Science.”
“But she teaches physics. And physicality doesn’t have anything to do with—”
“A high school teacher?” the man asked Meredith. “Maybe I should write this down for you. Boys should learn this stuff.”
She glanced at the table where the gun case with her .22 rested, her protective eyewear and earmuffs on top, and struggled to contain her irritation. She’d enjoyed her first attempt at target shooting. She wanted to get back to it. Her bullets had been closing in on dead center when her arms had tired and she’d decided to take a break. And then what’s-his-name had ambushed her while she’d been sipping her iced tea.
A hand clamped on the man’s shoulder. “Are you schooling Dr. Burke?” Charlie asked.
“Darrell said she’s a teacher, not an M.D.”
“She’s an astrophysics professor,” Charlie said. “A Ph.D.”
“Ahh, not a real doctor.” He looked her up and down and narrowed his eyes. “You teach college? Where?”
“TIMT,” she answered, not bothering with the mouthful, Texas Institute of Math and Technology. Most people in the state were familiar with the university’s acronym.
“Must be part of some hiring quota,” he mumbled.
Her hands clenched, and the paper cup crumpled. Had he really just said that? She didn’t know how to respond, wasn’t sure she could speak even if she had the words.