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(Warner ~ September 2006)

Real Women Don't Wear Size 2

When the big 3-0 comes and goes, Clarise Robinson finds she isn't all that disheartened with the curves life has thrown her way. As a matter of fact, she's learned to work with those curves, literally. As head of the women's department at Eubanks Elegant Apparel, she's known for her style, her sass and her abundant curves. Yes, the female once deemed "cautious" by her college buddies has unquestionably left that wallflower image behind to grasp a new label: "confidently curvy."

But even though she's found her niche in the world, Clarise knows the truth. Deep down, she's still holding back, still playing it safe, particularly when it comes to her best friend, boss and darkest fantasy, Ethan Eubanks. And now, it's time to throw caution to the wind, to take off the gloves, and perhaps, everything else…

Q How did you select Tampa as the setting for Real Women Don't Wear Size 2?

A I've always loved Tampa. While I live in North Alabama, I visit Tampa often, have friends there, and am even a member of a Tampa Writers' Group, Tampa Area Romance Authors (TARA). The city is full of energy, full of life, and exactly the type of place that a curvy lady like my heroine could go to find her wild side, particularly during the Gasparilla Festival.

Q So…Gasparilla. What is it, and how did it factor into the Tampa selection for the setting?

A I was fortunate to have a book signing in Tampa in January, when the city was gearing up for the annual Gasparilla Pirate Festival. The history of the festival dates back to 1821, when the legendary pirate Jose Gasparilla stormed the city. Way too much to tell here, but you can check it all out at gasparillapiratefest.com. And of course, you can attend Gasparilla to get the full effect, like Clarise does in Real Women Don't Wear Size 2.

Q How would you describe Clarise Robinson?

A Clarise is a shapely lady who knows how to help other women flaunt their curves but hasn't tried it herself…yet. After her 30th birthday, she decides to change that and heads to Gasparilla, the perfect place for a woman who wants to have the fun-and the man-she deserves.

Q What kinds of things did you write for NASA? Where does this book fit in?

A At the time I graduated college, NASA was actively recruiting individuals with degree concentrations in Computer Science and English, my two fields of study. My position involved writing technical manuals utilized to obtain elevation data of the earth's terrain. I worked with cartographers, engineers and programmers on a daily basis and truly enjoyed the enormous learning curve involved with the position, as well as the endless amount of information. Writers love information; that position was a goldmine for plotting ideas. While I have written books that involve my NASA experience, Real Women Don't Wear Size 2 is a sassy, sexy contemporary.

Q Describe your typical writing day.

A I'm an early bird. I'm awake by 5:00. I finish my first cup of coffee by 5:15. By 5:30, I'm on cup 2 and halfway through emails. At 7:30, my teen boys head out for school and the sexy Cajun heads for the office (nothing like a sexy Cajun to get you in the right frame of mind for writing romance-I highly recommend every aspiring romance writer to marry a sexy Cajun. Trust me-it works). With an empty house, I write. No more email until the day's chapter is complete. I strive to write one chapter or one nice scene per day.

Q You've given away several really nice vacations on your www.kelleystjohn.com website. How did you come up with the idea?

A I write about places I enjoy visiting, places that others would also enjoy visiting, and I decided to let my readers experience the beauty of the locales I select for my novels.

After a futile pass down one side of the street, Ethan Eubanks crossed between two floats and headed down the other. By the time he neared the end of the block, he’d nearly given up hope of finding Clarise in the overactive and imaginative crowd. How many swords were utilized in a single Gasparilla parade anyway? How was he supposed to find one woman in this madness? And why hadn’t he seen even one of his employees, people who would undoubtedly be able to tell him where to find Clarise?

Screams of excitement pulsed through the air, beads soared from the top tiers of elaborate floats and women lifted their shirts all over the place. The latter would’ve normally caught his attention and held it, at least momentarily, but not today. Today, he was only looking for one woman’s display, and he’d rather it not be a public viewing, thank you very much. Ethan moved to the street corner and prepared to pass to the other side again when a man’s eager proclamation piqued his interest, as well as the interest of every other male within earshot.

“Have mercy! It’s coming off!” he bellowed.

Ethan turned toward the guy, a bearded swashbuckler, at least six-foot-five, who evidently could see the entire span of the crowd on the opposite side. With Ethan’s six-two, he didn’t have as abundant of an advantage, but he followed the man’s gaze to see where his attention had landed. The site made his stomach clench. How the hell would he stop her now?

A kaleidoscope, that was the way Gasparilla affected Clarise Robinson’s senses, like a kaleidoscope with swiftly changing colors and shapes and patterns, pirates and beads and masks, music and dancing and fun. She sucked on the straw of the monster-sized drink, but the potent red wonder was gone. “Dang,” she said, frowning at the cup.

The guy next to her, well, one of the guys next to her——there were several now——laughed. “Here, babe. Let me throw that away for ya.” He stretched a hand in the air to snag a glittery strand of emerald beads.

“I want some,” she said, eyeing the loop he draped around his neck. He had several now; Clarise had none. You’d think he’d offer to share. Another of her new best friends brought a beefy arm around her back and leaned close. His breath was hot and smelled like rotten fruit, or really strong alcohol. She attempted a baby step back.

“Honey, you show what you’ve got hidden under there, and I guarantee you’ll get your share of beads.”

Clarise looked down. Her top was still on? And after all that practicing at home? “Oh, right.” She moved her fingers, which were quite fumbly, to the top of her chest and waited for the next float to come. The front of it resembled a mermaid, her long, flowing blond hair trailing behind her to form the body of the structure, where crew members tossed beads to chest-baring women. As if signaling her approval of the action, the mermaid’s breasts also bulged forward, bare and bountiful, with big pink nipples that looked like rosebuds. Clarise decided she was practically the only woman here whose boobs hadn’t seen the light of day, or night, as the case may be, and it was high time for that to change. She held her breath as the front wheels of the trailer passed, then watched a good-looking man on the top tier give her a nod of encouragement.

“You want them, darling?” he asked, dangling the most beautiful beads she’d ever seen from his fingertips.

She nodded, and fought the way it made her head spin.

“Then show me.”

Clarise pulled down the front of her top and smiled.

Grinning like a thief, he immediately flung the beads her way. Whoops and hollers echoed in her ears...and a firm hand yanked the fabric up her chest. She dropped her newly acquired booty and lost sight of it amid all the shuffling feet on the street. Then she looked up and glared at the large palm pressed solidly against her chest.

“You made me drop my necklace.” The big hand against her heart looked vaguely familiar. She slid her gaze across the top of his wrist, up a muscled arm, past a beautifully corded neck, and directly into the face of——Ethan Eubanks.

No , her brain reasoned. It couldn’t be her friend, her boss, pressing one palm to her chest while the other pushed against the small of her back and purposefully guided her through the crowd. Could it? She shook her head to clear it, which was a monumental mistake, since it currently felt like a bowling ball on top of a golf tee, ready to roll right off.