Who’s to say you can’t have a romantic Thanksgiving? Oh sure, you might be dealing with the in-laws and crazy family drama, dodging kids while taking in football and way too much food…

But it’s also time to reflect on what we’re THANKFUL for. If you have a partner, chances are that person is high on your list.

My recent contemporary romance features a former Special Ops military man turned surfing entrepreneur and a popular adult film actress. Finn’s thrilled to finally meet his silver-screen crush, and Monica’s found her excuse to leave the porn industry.

Here’s a few romantic Thanksgiving ideas my characters might have used, and so can you!

An Escape Surprise: If friends and family aren’t on the agenda, Finn and Monica could plan a romantic weekend getaway. Their ideas might include a cruise (I bet they’d find some awesome deals), discover a cozy mountain cabin, or book a hotel room with a spectacular view.

Wake Finn Up with a Smile: *Warning – this only works when he’s a morning person!* But even if he’s not, how could he turn down a cuddly lover who says, “I love you….gobble, gobble!”?

Friendly Tackle Football: If Thanksgiving blesses them with a crowd, they’ll grab a football and get down with a game. What’ll start off as pleasant rivalry between Moni and Finn can quickly escalate into a subtle tease of “tickle football”. An added benefit: they’ll either work up an appetite, or work it off.

Share a slice of pie: When the feast is over and they’re finally alone, why not share a piece of pumpkin pie? Finn can decide on the amount of whipped cream…and Monica will be sure they take turns feeding each other.

I had way too much fun writing MONICA BEGGS, a heroine with a vividly colorful past. I know I’ll have to revisit that type of story again.

And if I did, what are your thoughts on the type of partner he or she should be paired with? Have you ever read a story where one of the main characters worked in the porn industry?

About Sheri:

Always on the hunt for the uncommon things in life, award-winning author Sheri Fredricks thrives on creating adventures in her mythological kingdom series, contemporary stories, and soon-to-be-released western time-travels.

A former engineering secretary, she lives on California’s beautiful central coast. “I wanted to move away from a profession of inflexible right angles and create an unboxed world with no boundaries.” A voracious reader since her early years, Sheri found her brain crowded with stories of her own. “Ultimately,” she says, “my husband encouraged me to write them all down.”

Winner of the Paranormal Romance Guild Reviewer’s Choice Award, and a Finalist multiple times for InD’Tale eMagazine’s Reward Of Novel Excellence award (RONE), she has numerous five-star reviews everywhere eBooks are sold.

Sheri loves to spend time at home and connecting with readers. A computer hutch keeps her focused on creating stories, but the panoramic view of life on a ranch will call her outside to play in the sun.

About MONICA BEGGS

Monica Beggs is more than the hottest porn star out on DVD–she’s Finn Daniel’s next assignment.

Lights. Camera. Lube?

Famous porn star Monica Beggs wrapped up another grueling on-location movie shoot when the Colombian cartel attempted to kidnap her. Their guns are as real as the price on her pretty head.

Former Special Ops and present day surfer, Finn Daniels recognizes a lady in distress when he sees one—especially if it’s his adult film crush being hustled out the door. He’s no longer in the business of busting up the underworld, but that doesn’t deflect his moral compass.

In a fast-paced adventure– over land, sea, and air– playing it hot and heavy will only lead them straight into action!

Excerpt (from the villains point of view):

Cartagena, Colombia

Scree. Scrreee. Scrrr-clunk.

The piercing noise split the air, driving brain-ripping daggers into his sodden head. Enough of that shit. Don Santiago Manuelo grabbed his cell phone off the nightstand and squeezed the sides of the device. Located somewhere along the edge was the phone’s kill switch, but he couldn’t open his eyes to see where.

It hurt to lay on his side and the effort to flop onto his back left him breathless. He cursed low, hard, and guttural. There’d been a time when he sported six-pack abs. All he wore these days was a kegger.

Had the phone actually rang, or was that his hangover’s way of saying buenos dias? The taste in his mouth was foul, a combination of puke and last night’s greasy tamales.

With superhuman effort, he contrived to pry open one eye, then the other, and worked to make sense of his surroundings. Sitting up carefully, he managed to avoid another puke session.

“Puto infierno.” Fucking hell. It’d been a good party. A plethora of women, cocaine, and shots of Don Julio lasting long into the night.

The lavish surroundings blurred, then sharpened into focus. Relief slowed his racing heart as he recognized his own master suite.

But he wasn’t alone. There were two women with him in the California king bed.

Both were naked.

The sight of big tits—fake or real, he didn’t care—puffy nipples, and shaved puentas brought a smile to his parched lips. As the boss, he partied whenever he fucking wanted.

And fucked who he wanted as well.

Sí. It had been a good party.

Below his hips, his morning wood called for attention. He’d get the bitches to take care of that soon enough.

Por dios! The morning light made his headache worse.

Don Santiago Manuelo—that’s how he thought of himself and it’s what his men called him. Too bad it wasn’t the name his whore mother gave him forty-some years ago in the cardboard shantytown ghetto where he’d grown up. It was there in the streets, stinking of sewer and trash, where he’d learned to cheat, steal…and kill.

Early on he’d learned the rules of the game: Power came to those who were ruthless and strong. The ruthless got rich, the strong would win.

While wearing a suit accessorized by his professionally trimmed black mustache, he often passed as a lawyer or business executive. Not the cold-blooded killer wanted in most of the free world. Certainly not a powerful drug lord at the top of his game, one who held authority over life and death in this part of Colombia.

One of the women stretched, arched her back, and then rolled onto her side. They were beautiful. And boring. Sensual, yet they didn’t look different from any other women in this part of Colombia. These women held no value, no importance.

He could end their lives with a flick of his little finger.

But then, what would be the point? It’d be like destroying furniture or tossing out old clothes—or killing the arrogant pendejo who’d controlled the drug operations in the territory before him. Santiago’s takeover had been complete with the annihilation of the previous cartel leader, his wife, and their children. He’d even killed the man’s damn dogs for good measure.

Ruthless and strong.

The message he’d sent was important and made as clear as crystal meth: Don’t fuck with Don Santiago Manuelo.

The high notes of an electric guitar pealed in teeth-grating rhapsody. This time the cell phone was palmed and he was ready.

With a swipe of his finger, he killed the ring—the same way he ruled his rapidly growing kingdom. Since the onset of his reign, his crime organization had become more powerful, richer than any other cartel in Central America.

With his methods, Santiago ruled absolutely.

Not even the radar of U.S. law enforcement agencies could touch him.

Norte Americanos. They were a soft breed, only capable of creating drug addicts and pornography. As la diosa fortuna would have it, the U.S. produced both in large quantities. Lady Luck might be fickle, but she always smiled on him.

Naked women weren’t hard to find, especially when one lived in opulence such as he. The blonde stirred beside him, and Santiago ran a hand over her bleached disheveled tresses. When his palm reached the back of her head, he dug his fingers into her hair and fisted the over-processed locks. Ignoring her pitiful cries, he pulled her up and over, forcing her to kneel with her face at his dick and her ass in the air.

She’d suck him if she knew what was best for her.

Too fucking bad if he was balding, overweight, and had hit his mid-forties two months ago. It didn’t detract from the amount of pussy thrown his way.

In the mirror above his bed, he watched as the woman half his age moved her mouth up and down his growing cock, grunting when her warm fist tightened its hold. Fregado excelente. Her head bobbed in time to his hand pushing the back of her head. Faster, he quickened her movements.

Tension coiled inside his balls. The rush headier than his manufactured drugs. Santiago spread his legs wider and grabbed the hair of the drowsing brunette beside him, gritting his teeth when she moved to eagerly comply.

Life and death.

There had been no interesting women in his life for years. That is, until a few months ago when a long-term, faithful employee showed him an Americano movie with a woman so beautiful, eyes so alluring, he couldn’t get her out of his head. The image of her nude perfection filled his mind. Daily thoughts traveled a nonstop expressway between his brain and his erect verga. Desire haunted his nightly dreams until he could take no more and sought release.

Such as now.

The blonde puta traded places with the dark-haired girl, taking turns sucking his hard cock and licking his balls. Santiago let go of their hair and stroked his fingers down their smooth, velvety backs to loudly smack their upraised asses.

“Suck me harder, bitches. Show me how much you want it.”

Their efforts doubled, moaning deep in their throats. Ecstasy of flicking tongues and moist heat punched his balls higher into their sac. His hips lifted of their own accord, uncaring of whose mouth was on him, or where. The cracks of the women’s asses pointed back at him were too much temptation. Scent of pussy cloyed heavily in the still air. Shaved and wet, their honey glistened beneath his touch.

The brunette eyed him over her shoulder. Smiling, she spread her legs wider and arched her back, opening to show the pink heaven waiting inside.

He wasn’t interested in fucking either of them this morning. A quick blowjob, then he had business to attend. Still…their glossy pink vaginas, swollen and damp, drew his attention and he plunged three thick fingers of each hand inside them at the same time.

The brunette immediately bucked, soaking him to the knuckles. Her lips traveled downward to swallow him whole. Blondie rode his meager offering but wanted more. She was a hungry whore who pushed at the dark-headed girl to get her share of the prize.

Two sex slaves writhing over his cock. Life doesn’t get much better than this.

They both licked and sucked. Their tongues wrapped his length and sometimes kissed each other’s lips.

Imagining the talented woman, Monica Beggs, as the woman who shared his bed, his balls tightened. He grew impressively hard and thrust his fingers in and out of the women’s pussies.

“Monica, you are mine!”

Don Santiago Manuelo, the fat drug lord and king of the Colombian cartel, laid back his head and ejaculated, smiling as the mirror above showed two shapely women fighting over his spewing cum.

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Thanks for letting me stop by!

XO

Sheri