A welcome departure from the perky young heroines in chick lit." - Goodreads Reviewer
"A hilarious read! Intomesee is true to the old-time raunchy spirit of San Francisco, neither predictable nor puritanical." - Amazon Reviewer
"We all play 'love you, hate you' games. Intomesee is a contemporary adaptation of the best 'hate at first sight' classics." - Goodreads Reviewer
"The author's distinct voice was witty and felt cultured." - Library Thing Reviewer
"Aimée is not your mother's strong female protagonist. She's real, flawed, colorful, and has a heart of gold." - Amazon Reviewer
"Matador is the most interesting 'love interest' I've read in years." - Amazon Reader
"I'll never look at my male or female doctors again without thinking about this book." - Goodreads Reviewer
"Absolutely enthralling... A fascinating insight into 'San Francisco' think." - Amazon Reviewer
"Loved, loved, loved the way this one ends." - Goodreads Reviewer
From the Author
The clock struck midnight, confetti sprinkled and balloons dropped all around them. "Bonne Année!" Aimée yelled. "Thanks for luring me out of my shell."
"Happy New Year, lovey!" Kasey yelled back. Please excuse me for a moment."
He climbed on the stage, joining Matador. The two seducers rejoiced on the times gone by as the band segued into a spirited version of the Scottish poem, Auld Lang Syne.
The speakers carried the tune to the edge of the dance floor where Aimée sulked. Poetry rarely roused her to tears, but the poignant words tugged at her heartstrings every New Year's Eve. "Should old acquaintances be forgotten, and never brought to mind," she mouthed, wiping a tear in her eye. She ignored the resounding beat of the music, instead mulled over the lyrics. Could she forget old acquaintances, the likes of Preston Evans? She couldn't discard the unwanted memories of her strange bedfellow. Images of his face between her thighs, his twirling tongue, his scraping mustache, surfaced in her mind,making her want to hurl. She'd transformed into a succubus and taken advantage of him.
She'd never welcome a stranger in her bed again. Kinky sex therapy made her lose her mind. She felt rejected, ashamed, and exposed, all because of that disastrous one-night stand. From now on, she'd refused to make love unless she actually loved a man. Or at least after he swore not to turn his back on her.
Kasey blew her a kiss from the stage and she gestured as if catching it with a hand. Lovey this, lovey that. He used the word love as if it were a disease. What would happen if he caught the love bug? Would his knees buckle? Maybe he secretly craved commitment, like most bachelors. He'd sent her mixed signals. Why did she suppress her feelings for him? Could she ever fall in love with him? Aimée shook her befuddled head. The elevated levels of hormones were reengineering her brain chemistry.
Kasey liked the type who worshiped the land he walked on. The gullible, the full bloom of youth and beauty. She was frustratingly noncommittal and sporadically gullible, yet he never complimented her looks.
Matador descended in the crowd. His drugged, desperate, and obsessive fans were mobbing him as he worked the room, groping his hands, and pleading him to pose for selfies. Completely self-possessed, his grin never once dimmed. That grin was dangerous. It could inflict pleasure or pain at will.
Aimée angled her head, imagining Matador naked, taking advantage of her. "What a glorious specimen of a man," she mumbled under her breath. She had to remind herself: no spontaneous hookups and no loose adventures in the bedroom. She could flirt as long as she refused all sexual advances. Feeling powerless to resist temptation, she sneakily slapped the firm ass of a waiter as he passed within striking range.