Kayla Perrin - Blurb - GIMME AN O!

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GIMME AN O!
January, 2005 An Avon Trade Release ISBN: 0-06-058709-1
Description: When star sex therapist Lecia Calhoun, a.k.a. Dr. Love, writes the definitive book on achieving women's most elusive subject, all of Los Angeles goes wild, especially the NFL's hottest quarterback, Anthony Beals--"T" to his closest friends. Thanks to some impromptu advice from the good doctor, his relationship is on the rocks and he wants Lecia to undo the damage. But while Lecia's great at helping others reach fulfillment, her own love life is one big zero--until she meets T. Despite her misgivings, the level-headed doctor is drawn to this fine-looking brother. T, too, finds himself off his game plan, thrown by Lecia's stunning beauty. Facing the toughest defense of his life, T will have to go deep to score big. And he's one quarterback who ALWAYS plays to win--on the field, and off . . .
Chapter One HOW TO DRIVE YOUR WOMAN CRAZY WITH PASSION! TEN SURE FIRE STEPS TO KEEP HER SATISFIED ALL NIGHT LONG. Lecia Calhoun cringed as she read the heading of the chapter that the radio host expected her to discuss-in full, juicy details, no doubt-during her scheduled interview. An interview that was to take place in-she glanced at her watch-eight minutes and counting. And not just with any radio host, but with Depraved Dave, arguably one of Los Angeles' most foul-mouthed, irreverent talk show hosts out there. Loud and obnoxious, he was the antithesis of the feminist, the kind of man's man who commanded attention in the worst possible way. A chauvinist pig who believed that women had been put on earth to serve men in general and him in particular. She wouldn't put it past him to roll off a woman and belch right after orgasm, or even to belch as he was coming. He was that kind of guy. A month ago at Spago Beverly Hills, she had seen him stuff a tip down the hostess's blouse-groping the startled woman for a good few seconds-and he had been there with his wife. She could only imagine how he would handle her now. Knowing this was going to be her worst nightmare, Lecia again glanced at the open book. The words How to drive your woman crazy with passion! danced on the page, mocking her. Oh, yeah-she could imagine the fun Depraved Dave would have at her expense. After all, she had written the words. A part of her had held out hope that Depraved Dave wouldn't earmark this chapter, because . . . Well, because one could entertain fantasies, couldn't they? Fantasies were a normal, healthy part of life. It was part of what she preached in this very book, which now felt like a cement block in her hands. In reality, she was hoping that the universe would spare her this with Depraved Dave, simply because she had already discussed this very chapter with ninety-nine point nine percent of the hosts and reporters who had talked to her. It was the very last chapter in the book, but the one most were interested in. The one that read like a tabloid sex column, a marked departure from the other chapters. The one that had been thrown in half as a joke, but her editor had loved it nonetheless. Given that Lecia had discussed this chapter so many times, she should know the answers inside out. But she had not yet discussed it with Depraved Dave, whose middle name was Shocking. He poked fun even at the holiest of topics. She had once listened to his show in open-mouthed horror as he had challenged nuns to "get laid" so they knew exactly what they had given up. Oh, God. How was she going to handle him? Slinking in the worn leather chair, Lecia lifted her face to Angela, the publicist who had accompanied her from her publishing house. Angela was a tall, pretty blonde, who could easily have been a model if she'd decided to pursue that career. She was smiling and chatting with Joe Balfour, the producer of Get Real With Dave. "Um, excuse me. Angela . . ." Angela glanced down at her. Lecia must have worn a petrified expression, because Angela's eyes narrowed with concern. "What's the matter? You need to use the bathroom?" "Not exactly." And thanks for saying that in front of Joe! "I, uh, need to speak with you for a moment." She paused. "Privately." Joe's eyes flitted between both women. "No problem. I need to get some water, anyway. I'll be back in a couple of minutes to bring you in for the show." Even though Lecia had heard the man speak already, Joe's voice was still a shock to her. A shock because it told a lie. Deep and husky, it said he was at least six feet of well-muscled man. In reality, he was five-foot-four-max-and if he had any rippling muscles, they were camouflaged by layers of fat. Yet Joe had an easy smile and a confident glint in his eyes that said he thought he was as sexy as the Denzel Washingtons and Brad Pitts of the world. Lecia forgot about Joe the moment he left the room. She was on her feet in a flash, holding her book open for Angela to see. "Chapter Thirteen," she said, aware that her voice was more high strung than usual. "Depraved Dave wants me to discuss Chapter Thirteen. You assured me we'd discuss something else!" "I tried," Angela said. "I told Joe you'd been interviewed about that chapter several times already, that I thought it'd be a more interesting slant to concentrate on another aspect of the book. Last I heard from him, he said Dave was interested more in you and your background. But what can I say?" She shrugged. "It's Dave's show. What he says goes." "I can't do this," Lecia protested. "Not this chapter. Not with Depraved Dave." Angela took a swig of her bottled water, but Lecia didn't miss the smirk before the plastic had hit her lips. "It'll be fine." "And when he chews me to pieces before his male chauvinist audience?" "He won't be able to chew you to pieces. Everything you say in the book is fact. Especially Chapter Thirteen. If you ask me, it's high time men get it." "Like that's gonna happen with his audience." "Lecia?" "Yeah?" "Calm down. Honestly, there's no need to panic. You know your stuff, and when you're through with Depraved Dave, he'll know it, too." "I'm not too sure about that." "Stop stressing about it. No one's gonna remember what you said, anyway. They'll tune in for one reason only-the topic. Sex sells. Men are as intrigued by the female orgasm as women are. Which is exactly why your book is hot." Lecia drew in a sharp breath, willing herself to relax. Angela was right about sex selling. Did it ever. Her sister had said the same thing when she'd first broached the topic of perhaps writing a book for women about sexuality and orgasm, considering so many of the women she'd met in her medical practice had trouble achieving one. Not only had Tyanna encouraged her to write the book, she had challenged her to do so. And not because of the money potential-anyone with a brain knew most writers didn't make squat-but because she knew that writing was what Lecia had always wanted to do. From the few fiction-writing courses Lecia had taken, she knew that the first rule of any good writing was to write what you knew. She knew the female anatomy. As an obstetrician-gynecologist, she knew it inside out. Somewhere along the line, she had veered off the fiction-writing path and toyed with the idea of nonfiction. After dealing with more clients than she could count who'd either never experienced orgasm, or had trouble experiencing orgasm, she had realized that women needed more than articles in magazines on the subject. But it was her sister's challenge that gave her that final push. She had decided to leave her work as a gynecologist to pursue a lifelong dream. The result had been in her first published title, The Big O-a lighthearted but factual look at women's orgasms and how to achieve them. She was proud of the book, even if her parents would blush when reading it. And with its surprising success, she would never be able to put herself in the category of the writer who didn't make decent money. She was loving every minute of her accomplishment, even the crazy interviews. Her only concern was that with the focus of the interviews being on the so-called cheesiest part of her book, people might forget that she was actually a medical professional. A doctor and not a hack. Chapter Thirteen screamed hack. Then again, maybe she was simply obsessing because Depraved Dave scared her to death. She wouldn't have agreed to the interview if Angela hadn't begged and pleaded with her to do it. Lecia frowned, then said to Angela, "Maybe you could suggest to Joe that we discuss the first chapter. Myths about the female anatomy." "Honestly, Lecia. It's not like you haven't done this before." "No, no. You're right." It was high time Lecia resigned herself to her fate. "And it's no big deal." Digging into her shoulder bag, Lecia withdrew her inhaler. Holding it like it was a lifeline, she shook it, exhaled, then inhaled as she pressed two spurts of the medicine into her mouth. "Oh, God. You're really not okay." "I'm fine," Lecia told her when she released her breath. "My asthma acts up a few times a day. This is simply one of those times." "You're sure?" "Yes, I'm sure." She ran her fingers through her short tresses. "How's my hair?" "This is radio." "Right," Lecia conceded. But she still didn't feel better. "What's the worst that could happen even if Depraved Dave chews you up, as you say? People love controversy, especially in this town. They'll buy the book for that reason alone. If men in production offices or on film sets are standing around the water cooler dissing your work, that's fabulous." Fabulous? "Um . . ." "The more they talk about you, the quicker you'll become a household name. And that translates into more sales." Lecia's lips twisted as she gave Angela's words thought. Maybe the energetic publicist was right. "I didn't think about it that way." "Listen, if I'd written this book, I'd be riding the sex wave until the orgasm died. And laughing all the way to the bank. Because the way sales are going, this is a multiple orgasm." Lecia managed a genuine smile at Angela's sexual puns. And they were right on the mark. The book was making her a pretty penny. "You're right, Angela. I'm forgetting the bigger picture." "Exactly. What's half an hour with Depraved Dave in the grand scheme of things?" Angela looked beyond Lecia. "Joe." Lecia whipped her head around. Joe stood with both hands shoved in the front pockets of his khaki pants. Perhaps to make his bulge look bigger? "Ready, Doctor Love?" "Ready as I'll ever be." "Let's head inside the studio and meet Dave Brooks." # "This is WXJY, All Talk Radio, and you're listening to Get Real With Dave. This is your host, Depraved Dave, and for the next two hours, I'm yours, baby. If you're listening to me for the first time, congratulations! You've finally crossed over to the other side, and no, you didn't have to die to do it. Now, you're probably wondering why they call me Depraved. I dunno. Maybe it's because I like to call it as I see it. I don't tiptoe around issues wearing kid gloves. Maybe that's not polite, but hey, at least I don't make polite talk with people I can't stand. So, if you've got a problem with me, you can exercise your constitutional rights and switch the dial. You know what-forget I said that. What you ought to do is expand your horizons. Listen to my show and maybe you'll learn something. "All right. On to today's show. Do I have a treat for you. You may have already heard of her, and if your woman's now getting off-and I'm not talking about off the telephone-you probably have this lady to thank." Lecia winced. "Who am I talking about?" Depraved Dave panted like he was in the throes of passion. "Why, I'm talking about Dr. Love. Author of the runaway success, The Big O. And I have to tell you, this woman is hot. She's like Halle Berry, only better. Dr. Love, it's a pleasure to have you in my studio today." Lecia steeled her shoulders and forced a smile. "It's a pleasure to be here." "Good. Now let's get to the nitty gritty. To the nuts and bolts, if you know what I mean. Because we have a lot to talk about. Your book." He held it up high, as though he were presenting an item to a courtroom. "The Big O," he all but shouted. "And no, I'm not talking about Cheerios, guys. I'm talking about orgasms. Female orgasms, to be exact. When I learned about this book, my first thought was, why isn't there a book like this for guys? But I know why. Because guys don't need help when it comes to orgasms. We know how to do it. We don't get all emotional and weepy and mentally shut down. We know how to have a good time." As Lecia watched Depraved Dave emote with his hands, spittle flying from his mouth as he spoke fervently into the mike, her stomach sank. He didn't seem at all interested in talking to her. He wanted to preach his own opinions. What am I doing here? "No offense, Doc," he said, finally facing her. "A certain ex-girlfriend of mine-who shall remain nameless-should have had a copy of this book when we were together." He laughed, his voice hoarse from years of nicotine abuse. "Okay, about your book. You tell women how to get themselves off?" It couldn't have sounded cruder. Which made her hate to have to admit, "Well, to a certain extent, yes." "I could talk about your credentials, but I don't want to bore anyone to tears. Besides, anyone who looks as good as you must know her stuff when it comes to orgasms. So let's get right to the book. I decided to skip all the crap at the beginning and go right for the juice. Chapter thirteen." He held the book open and read. "How to make your woman scream with passion. And before any of you guys out there think I want to discuss this because I need pointers, let's not get stupid. Because I make all my women scream. Even that certain ex-girlfriend of mine, who had issues up the wazoo. But there are some guys out there who don't know the first thing about pleasing their women, which is why I'm assuming you wrote this chapter." This was going to be bad. Very bad. Lecia hoped the thirty minutes wouldn't feel like thirty years. "Actually." She cleared her throat. "As you can see, that's the last chapter of the book. And the story behind my motivation for it is kind of funny. I received one of those 'enlarge your penis' emails-you know, that annoying spam everyone gets-and the subject said something like, 'Lecia, make your woman scream.' After I rolled my eyes and deleted the message, I thought, why not put something like this in the book? Not that exactly, but something as . . . I don't know. Shocking? The kind of thing that would get people talking. So I did. But while the chapter title is a bit outrageous, it's actually a serious-" "Right, right," Depraved Dave went on, cutting her off. "Let's get to the juice. The creamy center," he added in an exaggerated tone. "The stuff everyone in America has tuned in to hear about. Point one. Talk to her. Okay, Doc. What exactly do you mean by that? Role-playing? Pretending, for example, that your wife is a French tramp? Or a school girl who's begging to get laid?" The guy sounded like an advertisement for a porn network. Lecia wanted to smack him. "If role-playing works, yes," she began slowly, "but I was referring to romantic-" "Point two. Butter her up." Dave chuckled. "I love this one already. They've got body butter in all sorts of flavors. The wife says she loves the taste, not that I'm not sweet enough already." The image of anyone getting down and dirty with Depraved Dave was enough to make Lecia want to puke. He was tall, but that was all he had going for him. He had long, stringy blond hair, way too pale skin for a guy who lived in the Golden State, and a body undefined by any muscles but undoubtedly defined by a beer gut. That and coffee-stained teeth. In other words, he was the kind of guy who attracted women only because of his fame and his net worth. They certainly weren't attracted to him for his charm. "I guess this isn't a family show," Lecia joked, knowing full well that Dave's show was often X-rated. "Actually, what I meant was butter her up with words, not-" "Body butter's the way to go. But I guarantee you, no woman needs any of that extra crap when she's with me. With what I've got, women never complain about being satisfied." Women. She didn't put it past him to screw around on his wife. In fact, she was certain that he did. Why was the beautiful brunette still with this pig? Lecia said, "I'm sure you know, Dave, that size isn't everything. That's a male misconception." "You find me a woman who's happy with three inches." "Is that why your exes left you?" Lecia couldn't help asking, the syrupy smile on her face making a lie of her concerned tone. Sound effects of a jeering crowd filled the airwaves. "Hey, I may be a white guy, but I'm hung like a horse. Fourteen inches. And I don't mind proving it to you." "Men and their toys." Lecia tsked. "I didn't think we were talking about strap-ons." There was a moment of dead air as Depraved Dave stared at her in shock. Then he grinned and said, "I like you. Let's take some calls. The phone lines are lighting up like a Christmas display." Lecia felt victorious. She'd won the battle with Depraved Dave. It was yet to be seen if she would win the war.