Friday, April 21, 2017

Book Tour "The Women Who Love Rome"

About the Book
Title: The Women Who Love Rome
Author: London Tracy
Genre: Contemporary Romance / Women’s Fiction
Rome is a rich, successful movie producer, accustomed to having his way; Thursday is sweet, naive, and eager to please. When the two ex-lovers cross paths, it’s love at first sight all over again.

After an explosive reunion, Thursday learns that Rome now shares his home with two ladyloves and has every intention of making her his newest conquest. Together, they embark on a daring, unorthodox living arrangement that pushes the boundaries of lust, love, and the forbidden.

Excerpt 1:

Team Nicki is what I like to call us girls when we work harmoniously together for a common cause: Dinner. Awaiting our pizza delivery, Storm prepares a dinner salad, while India and I savor a rich glass of Chardonnay at the kitchen table. India is convinced that Matt Damon is more handsome than Ben Affleck, but I assure her that it’s an argument that she will never win.
The doorbell rings, and I grab Rome’s American Express credit card from the counter and head for the front door. Standing on my tiptoes, I peek through the peephole and witness a man, wearing a baby blue ski mask, military jacket, khaki pants and a rifle wrapped around his shoulder. Since I have never seen him before in this neighborhood, I assume he must be lost and open the door. Perhaps, I might offer my assistance.
“Good evening, sir,” I say, “Are you lost?”
He eyes me from top to bottom. “No. I’m not.”
My eyes are drawn to the ski mask that covers his face. I don’t understand why he’s wearing it. It’s the middle of the summer.
“Surely, this is none of my business, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” I say, “but why are you wearing that ski mask? Are you cold?”
The mask-wearing man doesn’t speak right away. He’s thinking about it, then, “Why, yes, I am. That’s it. I’m cold.”
“That’s what I thought,” I say.
Enough with the small talk now. He has knocked on our door for a reason, and it’s about time I find out why. “How may I be of service to you?” I ask him.
“Are you here alone on this fine evening?” he asks me, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
“Tonight is rather a fine evening, isn’t it? And no, I am not here alone. My two good friends are here with me.”
“And there’s no one else?” he asks me.
“No one. Just us women.”
The mask-wearing man investigates his surroundings then takes in a wide view of the house. “Can you go get your friends for me?” he asks me.
“I want to see if they’re as pretty as you are.”
I smile, flattered to the 10th degree. “I can tell you know how to get what you want, don’t you?” I laugh, throwing my head back, still savoring his compliment. “Unfortunately though, we were about to sit down for dinner.”
“Really?” he asks. “What’s on the menu?”
“Pizza, just as soon as it gets here. In fact, when the doorbell rang, I thought you were the pizza delivery man.”
“Where did you order it from?” he asks me.
“That’s okay, but if you really want the best pizza in the state, try Diego’s.”
“Really, I’ll have to remember that.” I have no idea why this mask-wearing man has stopped at our doorstep, and most of all, why I’m still talking to him.
“Can you tell me again why you rang my doorbell?” I ask him.
“No reason. Are you sure I can’t take a gander at your friends before you sit down to eat?” he asks me. “I can assure you. I’m completely harmless. I promise not to rape or kill you or your friends.”
I laugh. “Well, as long as you promise.”
“And I do,” he says.
“Wait right here. I’ll be right back.”
I depart from the presence of the mask-wearing man and go and find Storm and India.
A minute later, I return with Storm and India at my side.
“Storm, India, this is the man I told you about.”
“Hello, India says, stretching out her hand to him. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Storm inspects him with a piercing eye. “Why are you carrying a rifle? I mean if I didn’t know any better, I might think that you were some sort of mass murderer.”
I shush Storm. “Storm, how can you say that to a complete stranger? He’s given you no reason to believe that he’s a killer.”
“It’s okay,” the mask-wearing man says. “She’s right. To some people I might appear armed and dangerous.”
“Well, not to me,” I say to him, giving him the I-kind-of-like-you look.
“Me either,” India says. “Anyway, nice man with the rifle, we were just about to sit down and eat.”
“Yeah, about that. Mind if I join you?” His voice is sweet and innocent.
“I guess it would be okay. You seem harmless enough,” I say. I look to Storm and India for their approval, and they both grant me the it’s-okay look.
We invite the mask-wearing man inside, and he unzips his military jacket. Standing in the foyer, we are all about to head towards the kitchen when the mask-wearing man says, “Since the pizza hasn’t arrived just yet, I thought I might take a look at the house, perhaps get a glimpse of where you ladies sleep at night.”
“Why?” I ask him as his request troubles me.
“I just want to see if where you sleep is as darling as all of you are.”
“Stop,” India says, blushing, smiling and lowering her head.
“No, you stop,” he says to India.
“You are just too kind,” I say to him.
“I guess it will be all right,” Storm stays.
We escort the mask-wearing man up the stairs and into the family sleeping room.
“Are you ladies sure you’re here alone?” he asks us. That’s the second time he has asked me that question, and I’m now starting to worry. However, I answer his question anyhow.
“Yes, it’s just us,” I say. “The way you keep asking me makes me think that you have something planned for us. I mean… you’re not going to try anything, are you?”
“No,” he says. “Do I look like someone who would try something?”
I study him for all of twenty seconds, taking in his ski mask, the military jacket and the rifle on his shoulder. “Not really.”
We all file into the family sleeping room, granting the mask-wearing man total access.
“Okay,” Storm says, stretching out her arms, highlighting our master bed. “This is where we sleep.”
“You like it,” India asks him.
“Nice,” he says.
The mask-wearing man steps towards the bed, studying it, then says, “I was just thinking. Why don’t you ladies climb up on the bed and show me what you look like when you sleep at night.”
Storm doesn’t even question his request. Instead, she slips out of her thong sandals, crawls up on the bed and lies on her back.
“Nice,” he says eying Storm like she’s a bowl of Easter candy, “Very nice.”
His eyes quickly roll over to India and me. “Now, you two,” he says, directing us towards the bed, “Climb up on the bed with your friend.”
I squint my eyes and scratch my head. This unusual request concerns me more than his request to see where we sleep. “You want all of us to climb up on the bed?” I ask him.
“That’s right,” he says, removing his rifle from his shoulder and setting it aside the bed.
I am about to crawl up on the bed when India asks, “Can’t we do this later? I’d much rather head downstairs and wait for our pizza.”
His eyes shift to India, intense. “No, we can’t do this later. We’ll eat when I say it’s time to eat.”
The mask-wearing man doesn’t seem as nice as he did when we first met, but I oblige his request. After all, he did promise not to rape or kill us.
India and I both ease our way up on the bed and stretch out next to Storm while he pivots around the bed. His eyes pour over us like he’s a tiger and we are his dinner. “You three… are the most… magnificent… women that I have ever laid eyes on.”
I blush. “That’s so nice of you to say.” I soak up the excitement of having a complete stranger come into our home and inflict on us God knows what. It just doesn’t get any scarier than that.
The mask-wearing man undresses. Off comes his combat boots, socks, and plaid shirt. “It’s a shame that you three are all here alone tonight.”
India, Storm and I all exchange one of those I-think-we-made-a-mistake-letting-this-ski-mask-wearing -man-into-our-home look.
Now that he has disrobed, he wears only a ski mask and Khaki pants. He inches his way onto the bed.
“Excuse me, mister,” I say to him, “but what exactly are you doing?”
“In case you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m no mister. I’m a kisser. That’s right. I kiss women.” He tickles Storm’s feet and she laughs.
I knew there was something fishy about that mask-wearing man, but I just didn’t want to admit it. Now it may be too late.
“I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming,” I say. “You seemed so nice.”
“Well, guess what? I’m not nice. It was all a trick from the moment I rang your doorbell.”
“I have never met a kisser before,” India says to him.
He squeezes himself between Storm and me, then combs his fingers through my hair, while staring at Storm. “So, who wants to go first?”
Storm doesn’t respond. India doesn’t respond, and I don’t respond.
“So, it’s like that, huh? You’re going to make me choose,” he says. “I can deal with that.”
Just as the mask-wearing man is about to straddle himself on top of India, his cell phone rings.
He plucks the phone from his pants and then snatches the ski mask from his face. “This is Rome.” Moments later, he rolls off the bed and finishes the call.
“Oh, fudge,” Storm says. “And just when it was just about to get interesting too.”
A minute later the mask-wearing man also known as Rome Nicki rejoins us, gathering his belongings from the floor.
“What do we do now?” I ask Rome as this game is not completely over for me.
“What do you want to do?” he asks me.
“You promised to… you know,” India says to him.
“I did not promise. It was only implied what I was to do to you.”
I rise to a sitting position. “So, how does it end?” I ask Rome.
Before Rome can answer, Storm crawls off the bed and slips into her sandals. “It just ended.”
“But why?”
“Because it’s all about the dance,” India says, “and nothing else.”
This is the first time that I have participated in the family’s role-playing stunt, and I like it. However, I wasn’t expecting the game to end right before the real action began, but apparently, according to India, it’s all about the dance and nothing else.

Author Bio

Avid journaler. Dog lover. People lover. Writer. Lover of children. I believe that there’s good and bad in all of us and that the people who like us choose to only focus on the good. I possess an insatiable curiosity about all things. I adore character driven movies and instrumental music that transports me to a place of nirvana. I believe that Leonardo DiCaprio is the most fascinating actor of all time. If I could write as well as he acts, I would be rich. What I love to do more than anything else is talk. The book that most reflects my personality is my novel, “The Women Who Love Rome,” which is available for free at Contact me at londontracy44@yahoo.

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