Free For the Holidays!

 

My Ugly Christmas Sweater story, Counting On Christmas (which is a sequel, of sorts, to Let Me Count the Ways) is currently available as a FREE READ. 

Mike's been a very good boy this year and Santa Claire has the perfect present picked out for him--one that's both naughty and nice! ​ 

***This story was originally released as part of the Nine Naughty Novelists' Ugly Christmas Sweater story collection *** ​ 

Click HERE to download.

This story is ONLY available during the Holidays--to make it a little special--and THIS YEAR, to make things even MORE special, I've decided to make Let Me Count the Ways available too.

She's thinking fling, he's thinking forever. 

 Sexy former film star Claire Calhoun is used to having her pick of studly young men. Now that she and Derek have called it quits, however, the actress-turned-entrepreneur is feeling vulnerable. After one mojito too many at a party one night, she decides it would be fun to try something new-in this case, Mike Sherman, her staid accountant and long-time fan. 

Claire has been Mike's fantasy since the first time he saw her bare it all for the camera. Now that she's in his bed he'll do whatever's necessary to keep her there. But he's not a stalker, right? He's just a devoted fan. 

Click HERE to download

And here's an excerpt from Let Me Count the Ways. Because I  love excerpts. 

Claire 

The gallery was crowded. The music was loud and not to my liking. And although some of the art on display was interesting enough, let’s face it; I wasn’t in the market for any more investments. I’d sunk almost everything I had into The Body Electric, which was still in its ‘hot new thing’ phase. Sure, business was good—for now. But who knew how long that would last? 

Still, the evening wasn’t a total loss. The drinks were complimentary and the bartender was to die for. I sipped my mojito and looked him over once again. 

He caught my look and smiled. “How is everything?” he asked, meaning my drink. 

“Just delicious,” I replied, making sure he knew I didn’t. 

Could I just say right here that I love men? For, oh, so many reasons. Just the sheer maleness of them. Even the sight of a five o’clock shadow on a rugged, square chin can turn me on. Can make my skin burn. Can make my fingers itch with the urge to touch and make me quiver as I imagine soft, sandpapery warmth in all my most sensitive places. Then there’s the strength in their hands, their fingers. The softness of their lips. The musk of their sweat. I swear those veins that stand out on their arms when they flex their muscles are enough, sometimes, to make me crazy. Not to mention the muscles themselves. 

The bartender had it all going on—including a killer smile and a soulful, sweet expression beneath a pair of jet black brows. He was an actor, of course. Just like everyone in this town. At least, everyone under twenty-five. That seems to be the cut-off. By twenty-six you know if you stand the ghost of a chance or are just marking time. If you’re still in the business at twenty-eight it’s because you’ve either tasted success or figured out that there’s nothing else you’re suited for. 

When I was twenty-five, I thought I was Money. I had it made. It didn’t last. I wonder, sometimes, if it wouldn’t have been better—for me—if it hadn’t ever happened at all. Sure, I wouldn’t have been famous, but maybe I’d have been happy instead. 

Some days it feels like I gave up a lot to get here. Others, it feels like I gave up too much. Still, even on those other days, fame does have its perks. Maybe especially on those days. I’m a name. I’m a face. And I could still recall how the game was played. 

“What’s your name, sweetie?” I asked, getting into the role. The bartender’s eyes lit up. 

“Javier,” he replied, with another deadly smile. 

I pushed my glass across the bar and returned his smile with one of my own; every bit as lethal. “Well, Javier, the ice in my drink has begun to melt. Why don’t you be a darling and see if you can’t find a way to freshen it up for me, okay?” 

His smile disappeared. “Right away, Miss Calhoun,” he said as he hustled away. 

“Claire,” I murmured watching him run. Have I mentioned he had a nice butt, too? “Call me Claire.” 

Would Javier sweetie really be quite so attentive if I was just a washed-up, not quite middle-aged, no-one-in-particular? Not bloody likely. But even tarnished stars still have some shine. No doubt he thought I could open doors for him. That I knew people who knew people who would give him a break. And maybe I did. Maybe I would. For a price. 

Cold? Possibly. But don’t expect me to shed any tears over yet another aspiring Adonis. This town is full of them. And, male or female, we all have to pay our dues. There’s only one real difference between Javier and me and it’s this: when I was in his shoes I was wearing heels. 

In less than a minute, he was back with a fresh new mojito. I smiled my thanks. “So, Claire, what are you doing after the party tonight?” he leaned in to ask, ambition gleaming brightly in those sweet brown eyes. No doubt he’d checked out the room while he was re-filling my drink. He’d obviously concluded that I was either the biggest name here or the easiest to hit on. Maybe both. The next move was mine. 

Before I had a chance to make it, however... “Red wine, please,” a man’s deep voice ordered sharply. 

Startled, Javier scrambled back to work. I turned to find Mike looming menacingly behind me. He looked quite resplendent tonight, if a little grim, dressed in charcoal pin-stripes paired with an olive silk shirt. 

“Nice suit,” I said, as I took it all in. “Fioravanti?” 

Mike snorted in amusement. “Don’t I wish. No. Dolce and Gabbana.” 

“Also nice.” I continued to study him, idly twirling the straw around in my glass. “You clean up good.” 

“Thank you,” Mike said, shooting another stern glance in Javier’s direction. The slight clenching of his jaw drew my attention higher, to the small, brownish gold stone shining in his left ear lobe. 

“Is this new?” I asked, reaching up to touch it, my fingers grazing his cheek as I did. Mike’s eyes widened into an astonished expression. His gaze flew to my face. 

“Oops.” I grinned. “Sorry. I guess my fingers are cold, huh?” 

Mike shook his head. “No. Not at all.” Red stained his cheekbones. His skin felt very warm against my fingers. 

“Liar.” Clucking my tongue, I withdrew my hand. My eyes, however, stayed locked with his and a familiar thrill ran through me. I love being desired. Who doesn’t? I love that flash of heat that flares in a man’s eyes when he wants you. I could see it in Mike’s eyes now and it made it hard to look away. 

“Your wine, sir,” Javier murmured from somewhere far away. We both ignored him. 

“You don’t wear that all the time, do you?” I asked. 

“Not very often. Just special occasions.” 

“Oh? So is this a special occasion?” 

Mike nodded gravely. “Yes. Most definitely.”

For more freebies, please be sure and check out my holiday free reads at:  https://www.pgforte.com/only-for-the-holidays

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Summer's not over yet...

Just in time for Labor Day! I've released Waiting For The Big One, the first book in my LA Love Lessons trilogy on Radish, the serial fiction platform.  If you like your fiction in bite-size pieces, this is the place for you!

It's been a lot of fun re-writing it to fit the serial model. What was weird, however, was creating a new cover WITHOUT ANY TEXT! I'm a writer. I want to use my words. lol But I have to admit, I think it did turn out pretty nicely. It looks like a movie poster, doesn't it? Although, again, WITHOUT A TITLE. Argggh!

In any case, I'm making this particular series available through Radish's "Freemium" pricing model, which means that if you don't mind waiting an additional week for each episode to "unlock", you can read the entire book for free. Of course, if you REALLY hate to wait--something my heroine, Gabby, would totally understand--you could just pick up the whole book right now at any of the usual vendors. But where's the fun in that? :)

Depending on how things go, I'm also looking to re-release Games We Play, Oberon, and possibly the Inked in OakTown series on Radish as well. And, as of right now, I'm planning to make those series exclusive to Radish. Tell me what you think in the comments below!

You can follow me on Radish for updates: https://radishfiction.com/users/pgforte  

I'm also hoping to revive my newsletter next month. We'll see how that goes. September is a big travel month. Again. If you want to subscribe the link can be found here:  http://www.pgforte.com/newsletter.htm

In the meantime, in case you haven't read Waiting For The Big One (or, if you have, but it's been awhile) here's an excerpt:

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It was one of those perfect mornings, the kind that only ever seems to happen on a Sunday. You know the ones I mean, don’t you? Just before noon, all lazy and warm.

The city of Los Angeles was steeped in sunshine, snuggled about as deep into the weekend as it could get. It seemed like everyone was laid back and happy, except for me and the dozens of other drivers who were trying to move west along Hollywood Blvd, headed toward Fairfax, going nowhere fast.

They’ll tell you Pisces is a patient sign, but you can’t really label the fish. We’re complex people. We combine the best and worst of all the other signs. And the truth is, I hate to wait.

So, there I was, stuck at yet another red light, when it hit me. It wasn’t just me who was waiting and it wasn’t just now. All of Los Angeles was in the same boat, all of us, all the time, waiting for the big one.

For most of us, that means our big break, our shot at seeing our name in a star on the Walk of Fame. It’s the role that’ll lift us out of obscurity. It’s the hit that’ll soar to the top of the charts. We’re all hopeful romantics--like Kathleen Turner, in Romancing the Stone. We’re always certain it’ll happen with the next deal we make, the next audition we go out on, the next person we meet.

Take me, for instance. Any day now, with just a little bit of luck, I could go from being plain old Gabby Browne, aspiring actress and dog walker, to Academy Award Winner, Gabriella Giacomo.

And if fame doesn’t get us, no doubt the earthquake will. That’s the other thing everybody’s waiting for, the big eight point, nine point, ten point shaker that scientists say is bound to occur. The one that’ll rock this town to its knees. Even hopeful romantics have to admit it seems inevitable. How could any place with this much surface glamour not be doomed?

But this morning, I was waiting for something a little more personal. I was waiting for The Big O: the elusive, G-spot, ultra orgasm, the kind I’d heard about, read about, yearned for, but had not yet experienced.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not as if I’d never had an orgasm or anything. But, to date, they’d all been the standard issue, plain vanilla kind. Nice, but nothing I couldn’t give myself any day of the week if I wanted. What I was hoping for was something more life-altering, soul-searing, rock-my-world passion. I knew it was out there, waiting for me. All I needed was the right guy to help me find it.

I knew he was out there, too. He was my Twin Flame, my Split Apart, my Tantric Soul mate; the man who would love me madly, passionately, loudly. All night long. They say good things come to those who wait, and I was certainly counting on that being true, but he was taking a long time to get here, and I was growing impatient.

Finally, the light turned green and I made it to where I was trying to get—The Body Electric—for my first workout of the week, and definitely my favorite.

Power Yoga with Derek Novello was never an easy class, but with Derek calling the shots, getting whipped into shape was almost a pleasure. I hurried up the walkway toward the two-story Hollywood Deco building, smiling in anticipation, enjoying the trickle of the fountain in the courtyard, the tinkle of the wind chimes in the topiary, the sweet scent of sandalwood.

“You’re late,” a voice growled the minute I set foot inside the deserted anteroom.

I froze for an instant, heart pounding in my chest, as I recognized Derek’s dark-chocolate voice. Then I turned, making one of those slow, graceful pivots I’d been practicing.

Derek has the kind of chiseled features the camera loves. Even now, with his thick, black brows drawn into a frown that had them almost meeting over the bridge of his classically perfect nose, his face was sensual, expressive, intense.

He was looking yummier than ever today, with his two-hundred-push-ups-every-morning-before-breakfast arms folded across a tight black tank, putting all those lovely muscles on an in-your-face display. The black workout pants he wore, on the other hand, were disappointingly loose, at least in front. But experience had taught me that when he turned around...ooh, baby. They’d likely mold to his glutes in a way that would make my own pants grow damp.

Was I in a rush for him to turn around? Uh-uh. ‘Cause he’s also got the fiercest brown eyes, the most delicious looking lips and, oh, I thought with a tinge of sadness, if only we weren’t friends.

“Traffic,” I explained, trying to rein in my runaway lust, trying to resist the urge to run my fingers through the dark waves of his short hair. I’d always made it a policy never to mix sex and friendship. It was something Derek knew full well, though he continued to tempt me. “You wouldn’t believe all the cars on the road today.”

“So? There’s always traffic, that’s no excuse. Besides, you only live twelve blocks away. You jog, you hike, you exercise—give me a break, Gabe. Are you really going to tell me you couldn’t walk that far? You could get here on time if you wanted to.”

I sighed, feeling even more regretful. The truth is he looks even sexier when he gets worked up, and since he’s a Scorpio, that happens a lot. “Don’t be silly, Derek. This is LA—no one walks here.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Go get dressed.”

Sexy or not, I hate it when anyone’s annoyed with me. It’s a Pisces thing. We want everyone to be happy. Luckily, I knew just how to make Derek’s day.

“I’m sorry, Sensei,” I murmured in my breathiest, most contrite sounding voice. I dropped my chin, laced my fingers together, and peeked up at him adoringly, like the blondest damned geisha you’ve ever seen. “Won’t you please forgive me? I promise it’ll never happen again.”

A muscle twitched at the corner of Derek’s mouth, showing me how hard he was trying not to smile. “It better not. You know the rules. Don’t expect me to make exceptions for you just because we’re friends.”

Well, that was ridiculous. Scorpios always make exceptions for their friends. That’s still the best way to tell when they’ve written you off. But as I bit my lip and took a step closer, I knew that wasn’t the case with us—yet. There was a hot, hungry look in Derek’s eyes, though he was still pretending to be indifferent to my act. ‘Course that all went to hell in an eye-popping, jaw-dropping hurry when I flashed him the twins.

“Damn,” he muttered, blinking appreciatively as I tugged my top back into place. I gave him a wink, then turned on my heel, and marched off toward the lockers.

“You still have a few minutes before class starts, Der,” I called over my shoulder. “You might want to use the time to rearrange that package of yours. It’s bulging.”

WAITING FOR THE BIG ONE is available at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo and NOW on Radish!  This title is also available as an audiobook through Audible