Fragrance Free
By L.B. Dunbar
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Synopsis
Change your destiny.
As the third child
in the Carter family, I always felt a little on the outside of the Carter
charm. I worked hard and played harder, but I was getting tired of the same old
scene. I was more than Jess Carter’s little sister, I wanted to be me. Pam
Carter.
It was time for a change and I wanted to be set
free.
I knew it needed to
happen. After years of one night stands and too brief sexual encounters, an
accident brought Fate to me. To resist his charm was my penance for years of
misbehavior. The temptation to give in to my desire haunted me for almost two
years, until an uncontrollable situation started the twisted path to test my
resolve further.
What would it take
to claim my independence and be a new, improved woman?
I worked for Jacob
Vincent, horror novelist extraordinaire, as his personal assistant, but I was
adamant that the relationship remain professional. Jacob had dark demons and I
couldn’t bring him into the light…or could I? Life was springing forth for me;
changes were coming. I knew it was time to be set free from who I had been and
who I was to start fresh with who I wanted to be. I just didn’t know where to
start to change my destiny.
Return to Elk Rapids for the
third sensation in the Sensations Collection, Fragrance Free. A standalone
contemporary New Adult romance, this novel continues the stories of the Carter
and Scott families. Read Sound Advice (Sensations Collection 1) to meet Jess
Carter and Emily Post and find out how it all began over some good advice and a
broken radio, or Taste Test (Sensations Collection 2) to meet Ethan Scott and
Ella Vincentia where the challenge is delicious in more ways than one.
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Jacob Vincent and Pam Carter Interview
Jacob grunts at me.
I know he hates to talk about himself and I’m making him answer this interview
for The Horror Times, a periodical that highlights mystery, suspense, and all
things horrific in writing. As his personal assistant, I make it my mission to
keep him on track. It’s what he hired me for at first, but now, things are
different.
Jacob, sitting at
his desk: Why do I have to do this again? (He swivels back and forth in his
chair as I pace in front of the large desk, holding my ipad in one hand and
type with the other).
Pam: It’s good
publicity. Your novels are doing well and with the upcoming movie, people are
curious about you.
Jacob, letting his
head fall back: Fine, Lilac. Ask away.
I have to smile
when he calls me by my nickname. He gave it to me, and he uses it when he wants
something from me. I wasn’t ready to give him what he wanted at the moment. We
have work to do.
Pam: First
question, can you tell me who or what inspired you to write?
Jacob: Stephen
King.
Exasperated, I
sigh: Not your standard answer. Something more truthful. More you.
His dark hair falls
over his forehead and my hand twitches to brush it back. I can’t touch him yet,
or this interview won’t get done.
Jacob, blowing out
a breath: Fine. My father inspired me. Not that he was a positive force, or
supportive, but because he was a less than encouraging parent who ruled by the
fist. Monsters were a daily reality for me.
I stopped pacing.
He was more honest than I expected. I blinked at him before I asked another
question, but he was looking at the high ceiling of his study. We were back in
Michigan for this interview after a long weekend in New York visiting his
niece, Ella, and her boyfriend, Ethan Scott.
Pam: Anything or
anybody else inspire you?
Jacob leaned
forward, the chair stilled and he rested his elbows on his knees.
Softly, Jacob
replied: My brother. (His head was bent forward and I crossed around the desk
to stand near him. He still held a lot of guilt from what his brother had done
in the past and we’d talked about how it wasn’t his fault).
My tone warned him:
Jacob.
He looked up at me,
shaking his head: Don’t psycho-analyze me, Pam? (When he used my name in that
tone, I knew he was getting upset. He was moody, and some days I had to just
roll with it. Other days, I fought back.
Pam: I’m not
psycho-analyzing you. I’m just reminding you it’s not your fault.
He warned me again,
this time with my nickname: Lilac, please. I’m not one of your students. Just
ask the questions.
My life had changed
because of Jacob. One of those things was a return to school to become a high
school counselor. While Jacob loved that I was doing what I wanted, he didn’t
like it when I turned my new skills on him. Unfortunately, I believed if
someone had used those strategies when he was young, he might not hold all this
guilt inside. He also might not be the brilliant writer that he is, either.
Moving on. Pam:
Your characters are deep and labelled demented at times. How could you come up
with such evil?
Jacob, as he leans
back in his chair: Drugs. Alcohol. Evil family members. It wasn’t hard.
It was my turn to
sigh. Drugs and alcohol was how I met Jacob. He’d been in an accident and I was
the EMT to respond. It was one of many jobs I held. For some reason, he called
to me, figuratively, and I did something I’d never done before, I followed up
on a patient. That night began the two year relationship of my working for
Jacob. Now things were different.
Pam: Can’t tell
kids to take drugs and alcohol, Mr. Vincent. That wouldn’t be responsible.
Jacob reached for
me as I stood at the edge of his desk and pulled me towards him. I wobbled a
bit before I settled to stand between his knees. His hands were on the back of
my thighs.
Jacob: When have
you ever known me to be responsible? (He tried to use a sinister voice, but it
didn’t work. I laughed.)
Pam: Many times.
With Ella. With Jacob. With me. With us. (My voice quieted on the last words).
Jacob smiled
slowly: Us. (He kissed my stomach and then his hands traveled up to my hips. He
stood and lifted me to sit on the leather pad in the middle of his desk. He now
stood between my knees).
I continued my
interview, even though his hands were smoothing up and down my thighs. A
burning sensation trailed behind his touch and I was ready to give in, but not
yet.
Pam: It’s often
said you are a recluse. What do you have to say to that?
Jacob: I’m a
private man. (He leans forward and runs his nose under my jaw. Moaning softly,
he whispers.) You smell delicious.
My head tilts to
allow him better access and then I cough a little to remind him we need to
finish.
Pam: That doesn’t
exactly answer the question.
Jacob, pulling back
to look me in the eyes: If you want me to mention Ella and how I brought her
here to protect her, I’m not going to comment.
That wasn’t what I
intended, nor did I think the interviewer wanted that answer. Jacob would never
reveal publicly that he thought it best to hide his niece in my small home town
in order to help her heal from the horrors of her senior year. I adored Ella
and I wouldn’t want to share her situation either.
Interrupting my
thoughts, Jacob kissed the other side of my neck: Let’s talk about you.
I giggle as removes
the ipad from my hands, then rubs his hands around my neck and under my hair.
Pam: The interviews
not about me.
Jacob: Well, the
interview is about me, and you are a part of me now. (He kisses me tenderly
before making it more aggressive. We can go from zero to one-hundred in minutes
and I knew we had to stop or we’d be reenacting a scene from our past on this
desk again.)
Pushing Jacob back:
What about me, then?
Jacob: What made
you fall in love with me? (He was serious but his tone was playful.)
Pam: That won’t be
in the interview.
Jacob: Humor me.
Pam: I felt like
you were a lost soul. Despite being highly attracted to you…
Jacob interrupting:
Highly attracted?
Pam: Yes. (I squeak
as Jacob pulls me to the edge of the desk. He’s lined us up even though we
aren’t touching. Yet.) I felt like you had secrets deep inside.
Jacob: Deep inside?
(He narrows his eyes at me. It’s a trait often reserved for when he wants to
make something known he’s serious.)
I sighed: And then
when you took care of me. When I was sick. I learned that you were really sweet
despite the moodiness.
Jacob, pulling back
a bit as he nudged his hips forward: You think I’m moody?
Pam: You know I do.
(I laughed.)
Jacob: Let’s go
back to those other words. Highly. Deep. Inside. (He leans forward and he knows
he’s tempting me. I’m so attracted to Jacob it scares me, but he’s just as
drawn to me. He was constantly touching me before anything happened, and now
it’s endless.)
Pam: I’d rather
hear other words. Love, perhaps? (Jacob’s hands return to my hips and he kisses
me on the shoulder).
Jacob: I love you,
Lilac. Is that what you want to hear?
Pam: That will do,
Mr. Vincent.
Jacob: You know
it’s still kind-of hot that you call me that even though you don’t have to
anymore. Actually you never had to be so formal with me.
I did have to be
that formal, though. It was a way to protect myself. I had to keep our
relationship professional. Jacob was too much of a temptation for me in the
past and I was tired of being tempted and disappointed by men.
Jacob: When do I
get to call you Mrs. Vincent?
I sigh and turn my
head to look out the floor to ceiling glass window that holds the most glorious
view of Lake Michigan, but he uses his fingers to force me to look at him.
Jacob: Lilac?
Pam: Soon. We have
Jess and Emily’s wedding first.
His fingers
intertwine with mine and he glances down at my hand. He raises it to kiss my
knuckles, then set our hands back on my thigh.
Jacob: I’m a very
patient man.
I laugh hard: You
are not.
His caramel colored
eyes darken and his mouth crooks up on one side: I’ve been known to take my
time. (His eyes narrow to emphasize his point. He has learned to take things
slow, but he knows I wouldn’t complain if it’s fast either).
Jacob: I think it’s
time to end this interview?
Jacob had a way of
asking a question that was more a suggestion. He was kissing me again.
Still touching his
lips: Want me to set you free, huh?
Jacob: I want to
set you free. Free of these clothes.
He was a jokester
when things got too serious for him and the interview had been more serious
than he cared to share.
Pam: Alright, Mr.
Vincent. You’re free.
Jacob: Not yet.
(And I heard the clink of his belt unbuckle and the unzip of his jeans). I want
to set you free, too, Lilac. (His mouth was against mine again, his tone more
serious).
Pam: You already
do, Jacob. You already do.
Sound Advice (Book One)
Taste Test
(Book Two)
Touch Screen
(Book Four)
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Now: Amazon
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Rock Stars Book One)
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Lansing Lotte
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Meet the
Author
I’d like to say I
was always a writer. I’d also like to say that I wrote every day of my life
since a child. That I took the teaching advice I give my former students
because writing every day improves your writing. I’d like to say I have my
ten-thousand hours that makes me a proficient writer. But I can’t say any of
those things. I did dream of writing the “Great American Novel” until one day a
friend said: Why does it have to be great? Why can’t it just be good and tell a
story?
As a teenager, I
wrote your typical love-angst poetry that did occasionally win me an award and
honor me with addressing my senior high school class at our Baccalaureate Mass.
I didn't keep a journal because I was too afraid my mom would
find it in the mattress where I kept my copy of Judy Blume’s Forever that
I wasn't allowed to read as a twelve year old.
I can say that
books have been my life. I’m a reader. I loved to read the day I discovered
“The Three Bears” as a first grader, and ever since then, the written word has
been my friend. Books were an escape for me. An adventure to the unknown. A
love affair I’d never know. I could be lost for hours in a book.
So why writing now?
I had a story to tell. It haunted me from the moment I decided if I just wrote
it down it would go away. But it didn't. Three years after writing the
first draft, a sign (yes, I believe in them) told me to fix up that draft
and work the process to have it published. That’s what I did. But one story let
to another, and another, and another. Then a new idea came into my head and a
new story line was created.
I was accused
(that’s the correct word) of having an overactive imagination as a child, as if
that was a bad thing. I've also been accused of having the
personality of a Jack Russell terrier, full of energy, unable to relax,
and always one step ahead. What can I say other than I have stories to tell and
I think you’ll like them. If you don’t, that’s okay. We all have our book
boyfriends. We all have our favorites. Whatever you do, though, take time for
yourself and read a book.
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