All About the Options

by Stephanie Beck

My dad used to say the guy who bought a car with all the options was a sucker. The classics are called ‘classic’ for a reason and it’s because they are necessary, never go out of style and fulfill all basic needs.

My husband disagrees. He says the person who buys a car with all the options, but gets the sales guy to throw them in for a good price is the one who drives away with the wind in his hair from the open sun roof, his ass warm from the heated leather seats and a fake flashing light to keep away the morons who are tempted by the leather.

The whole idea of something being optional centers around that it’s just not necessary. When I read a recipe and it says ‘nuts optional’ I assume the recipe is just as good without it. In some cases I think the nut option is delicious, and others it’s highly overrated...my friend, f/f romance writer, Sullivan Hart would agree with that notion.

With endless color charts and silliness in some options, sometimes I wish them away. I don’t really need to have five thousand options for colors to paint my house. Yet...the freedom in choice is so addictive and strengthening. Options and the ability to make our own decisions is part of what makes us human and exciting.

What would life be without options? Would you like fries with that? I get some of my biggest self brownie points when I say, “No, I’ll take the fruit instead.” No choice between ‘decaf or regular’--we’d all just be grumpy or bouncing off the walls. And a world without ‘boxers or briefs’...I simply don’t want to be a part of a world without that particular option.

**When was the last time you splurged on an ‘option’? Did you add chocolate glaze to your Christmas cookies when they didn’t really need it? Did you buy that extra candle with your purchase of ten dollars or more?  Share your tale of decadence and be entered to win a Christmas prize pack including some of my favorite indulgences. 

Make sure to leave your email address!**

Panties Optional by Stephanie Beck

Blurb:

Maggie Chase has a wild night of passion planned with the help of Madame Evangeline’s dating service, 1NightStand. A single night with an incredible man, what more can a busy girl ask for?

Sam Peterson requests that Madame Evangeline help him find a woman who isn’t after him for his money. Maggie may just fit the bill, but with her list of fantasies in hand, she may be more than he bargained for.

Forever isn’t on either one of their minds, but maybe it doesn’t have to be.

Christmas Sneak Peek:

“Maggie Chase?”

“That’s me,” she said, adjusting her purse higher on her shoulder. The big tote didn’t quite match her outfit, but the sexy clutch she preferred wouldn’t have held a change of clothes and her toothbrush.

“Follow me, please. Madame Evangeline has arranged for your caller to meet you in the lounge.”

Lounge. Which meant they were going to the super-fancy part of the Castillo. She loved how decadent she felt within the expensive, gorgeous walls of the hotel. Rare art and beautiful fabrics surrounded her at every corner. As an interior decorator, she recognized them for the treasures they were. Could they have held back on the gold plating? Sure, but it suited the hotel and Vegas lifestyle.

As they meandered through the crowd, Maggie wondered why she wasn’t more nervous. One-night stands and paid escorts never entered her normal strategies for getting laid. Not that she expected the guy waiting for her to be some gigolo, but still, hooking up with a stranger to get string-free sex should have felt at least a little wrong. And maybe it did. Maybe that little bit of naughty provided the catalyst making her so hot.

Her escort stopped short, and Maggie nearly tripped. She grabbed the booth end before she fell on her ass and embarrassed herself, while forcing her heels to stop before she impaled the poor man. The stilettos were tall and wickedly sharp. They were plain wicked, but that didn’t mean she wanted to draw blood with them.

“Mr. Peterson, allow me to introduce Ms. Chase. If either of you have a need, wave from here. I’ll be watching.”

With those instructions, the liaison walked away. Despite the dim light, Maggie could see the man across from her. A stranger. A hot stranger wearing a gray shirt too nice to be called casual but far from fussy. He stood and offered a hand, showing a slim-to-the-point-of-scrawny frame, but when he leaned forward, his face, lean like the rest of him, made her breath catch.