Not So Over Eli: A Midnight Ink/Kinky Christmas Carol Story

By Robin L. Rotham

Paramedic Bart Rigger finally has the life he wants rather than the one his father dictated, thanks to hot new fiancée Rhonda Giannetti. But a whirlwind trip to New Orleans puts it all at risk when he's forced to confront unresolved feelings for his first love, tattoo artist Elijah Bell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robin L. Rotham
• Release date: Feb 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311232076

Robin L. Rotham

When I complained of being bored the summer before 7th grade, my mother (who worked at a boookstore at the time) handed me a stripped copy of Victoria Holt's The Shivering Sands--and I was hooked. I became a voracious reader and an aspiring author, bringing home stacks of books from the library every single week. The next year, I did a school report on Ms. Holt and wrote to her asking for information. In reply, she sent me an autographed photo and a lovely two-page hand-written letter in which she encouraged me to follow my writing dreams. Sadly, both the photo and the letter were lost over many moves, but my writing dreams remained. At 14, I tried to write my first two romances. The first was about a federal agent masquerading as a bank robber, and a smart-mouthed customer who drove a custom baby blue Trans Am named Shark. The "robber" stole Shark as his getaway vehicle and the heroine, Nicki, dove in beside him. That was as far as I got--I could never see beyond their flying down the highway bickering as they were chased by bad guys. The second was a hot mess of an erotic Gothic paranormal involving an eighteen-year-old governess and the sixteen-year-old eldest son of the house, who made quite inappropriate advances toward her via astral projection while she slept. I wrote 100 pages front and back--IN PENCIL--before I hit that I HATE point in the story and shoved it under my bed. When I retrieved it two years later, the lead was so smeared I couldn't read it. The End. After that, I set my dream aside to address the more practical matters in life--matters like eating and putting a roof over my head. It took finding my own hero to reignite my passion for romance writing. More than 25 years after my last attempt, I bought a used laptop on eBay and wrote my first erotic romance. Mr Robin and I have been married for twenty-plus years; we live on a farm and have three wonderful offspring. I love to hear from readers, so don't be timid about dropping by my website or blog to say hi!

Book preview

Not So Over Eli

Robin L. Rotham

Not So Over Eli

Copyright 2013 Robin L. Rotham

Cover Art by Scott Carpenter

Formatted by IRONHORSE Formatting

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the publisher and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

About Robin L. Rotham

Excerpt: FrankenDom

Chapter One

You look too damn pretty to go poking holes in, ma cherie amour.

Bart’s throaty rumble against her neck made Rhonda shiver. Between her nerves, the fake fingernails, and the sight of a sexy man molesting her in the hotel mirror, she was having a hell of a time getting her delicate silver necklace fastened. What was she thinking when she asked for acrylic nails yesterday? She had to be back on shift in less than a week and there was no place for long nails in a fire station.

I love you too, honey, she said with a wry grin, but could you please lay off the Stevie Wonder while we’re in New Orleans? Someone might take offense at your accent and I’ll have a hard time defending you in these heels.

Bart slapped her ass and she jumped. Better watch out, little girl, or you’re not getting laid tonight.

She snorted. Like you’d punish yourself that way.

Finally closing the tiny clasp, she turned and twined her arms around his big, strong firefighter’s neck, smirking into his heavy-lidded blue eyes. In her four-inch heels, she was nearly as tall as Bart and all the fun parts lined up perfectly.

You know me too well, he murmured before he pressed his lips to hers. He kissed her as if this were their last time together, investigating her mouth with a little more urgency than usual and taking her breath away when he scraped her tongue between his teeth.

Very much afraid this might actually be their last time together, Rhonda let him get away with the delaying tactic, inhaling his sweet, heavy breaths and clutching at his neatly combed blond hair. When his hands slid down from her waist to the hem of her black leather skirt, she squirmed to help him tug it up over her hips. He cupped her bare ass cheeks with his big, hard palms, squeezing them roughly, grinding her hips against his, and she moaned as she flattened herself against him. Though they’d made love this morning, before their flight from Chicago, she could feel the hardness of his cock through his slacks and her panties, and she wanted him inside her. Now.

Bart, she whispered against his lips.

In reply, he backed up to the tall king-size bed, pulling her with him. Breaking away from her mouth, he sat on the cushy mattress and shoved her top up over her breasts so he could rub his face against her belly. When he licked a trail of sleek, wet heat around her navel, her breath hitched and she moaned again.

God, Bart!

You sure you want a piercing here, babe? he asked before drawing another circle just inside the rim with his tongue. It’s pretty sensitive, and a piercing’s a lot different than a tat.

I’m sure, she gasped.

Her tummy was really sensitive, especially around her navel, but she’d never liked it—no matter how often or how hard she worked out, she could never get rid of that soft, rounded look. Bart said it was sexy and feminine, but for a girl who’d always wanted flat, rock-hard abs like her brothers’, it was a source of endless discontent. She’d finally made up her mind that if she couldn’t have abs of granite, she might as well play up the feminine angle with jewelry. What better time and place to do it than the holidays in New Orleans?

And if the piercer she’d made an appointment with just happened to be her fiancé’s old flame and the only man he’d ever been attracted to…?

Well, then they’d find out if Bart really was as over Elijah Bell as he claimed.

Still tonguing her navel, he slipped his fingers between her thighs and under her black lace thong, skimming them gently over the already-slick swells of her outer lips.

Rhonda shifted anxiously, spreading her feet a little further as he continued to tantalize her with light brushes of his fingertips. Hurry up.

The tickly puff of air from Bart’s chuckle made her stomach muscles twitch.

So impatient, he chided, grinning up at her. You’re in the Big Easy, Ronnie. Relax and enjoy.

I’m trying, but you’re making it really hard.

It was Bart’s turn to snort. Baby, you made it hard before I even sat down here, so you can suffer a little, too, while I play with my favorite pussy.

She smiled. They’d only been in Louisiana a few hours and already Bart was starting to sound like a native. Hard to believe he’d spent less than two years here in college. He must really have an ear for accents.

Ogre that he was, he did make her suffer through long, breathless moments of suspense before he finally worked his fingertips in enough to graze her clit, which throbbed with every beat of her heart. Her legs trembled, and she locked her knees, grasping his shoulders to stay upright.

Swallowing hard, she whispered, Please.

Normally she wouldn’t cave this soon but she was already wound too tight to endure even a hint of edging.

I should leave you like this, little schemer, Bart growled, setting her clit on fire with a scrape of his fingernail.

No! she whimpered, leaning into him in desperate demand.

He nipped the upper edge of her navel, where she intended to get it