Romancing The Wrong Twin by Clare London
Today my book Romancing the Wrong Twin is released at Dreamspinner Press. This is maybe the most fun I’ve had writing a book for years! The inspiration for this story of identity swap came from the romantic comedies I’ve watched and read over the years – and I hope the readers get that feeling too. Watch how brusque, no-nonsense Dominic is persuaded to date an outrageous supermodel for publicity purposes! Read how the supermodel persuades his shy identical twin Aidan to go on the date instead! And how Dominic and Aidan start to find their lives changing – for the better, of course – from each other’s company.
I’ve just returned from a weekend away with author friends, where I’ve been plotting a future book in the same Romancing… series. This is the first writing retreat I’ve shared with others and it’s been a lot of fun. Productive, too! I needed to progress this book but I was dragging my feet (or typing fingers). Sharing a table with four other authors, accompanied only by the sound of keyboards tapping, and with no internet access, proved to be inspiring. We didn’t run word-count contests, demand that everyone wrote strictly to the timetable, or ask anyone to read out their work – it was just a supportive, friendly, comfortable atmosphere where everyone was encouraged to write during quiet hours set aside between meals. Then we’d eat (and imbibe a few drinks *g*) and maybe bat about some plot points or character queries. We also managed to fit in a walk along the sea front, plenty of ice cream, and nearly got time to tell ghost stories when the lights failed on Sat night!
I certainly hope we do it again sometime LOL.
How tangled can a romantic web get?
When gruff mountaineer Dominic Hartington-George seeks sponsorship for his latest expedition, his London PA insists on a more media-friendly profile—like dating celebrity supermodel Zeb Z.
Zeb can’t make the date, so he asks his identical twin, Aidan, to stand in for just one evening. Aidan, a struggling playwright, shuns the limelight to the extent people don’t even know Zeb has a sibling, but he reluctantly agrees.
When the deception has to continue beyond the first date, Aidan fights to keep up the pretense. Dominic likes his sassy, intelligent companion, and Aidan starts falling for the forthright explorer. But how long can Aidan’s conscience cope as confusion abounds? Will coming clean as “the other twin” destroy the trust they’ve built?
“I know you didn’t want to do this,” Aidan murmured.
The music was louder than when they’d arrived. Maxima was more club than restaurant and someone had upped the volume, but Aidan had no problem hearing Dominic over the background music.
“Go on this date. Be with me.” Aidan felt the devil rise up in him. “You said it yourself: we’re not much of a match. I expect your usual partners are far more impressed with your credentials.”
“My… what the hell?” Dominic looked genuinely surprised. “I don’t know what you’re on about, but I don’t set out looking for someone to impress. I want someone who’s good company, a strong character. Who’ll give as good as he gets.”
Aidan couldn’t help the wash of pleasure he felt at the indirect compliment. “No. I meant… well, you probably date bears like yourself, usually.”
Shit. Aidan knew he’d slid onto thin ice, but his stupid tongue wouldn’t stop blabbing. “Sorry. I just meant tough guys like yourself. Big. Burly.” Could he sink any further into the pit he was digging?
But it seemed to have broken Dominic’s introspective mood. He started to laugh uproariously. “Burly? Does that mean you think I’m hairy too?”
H-G. No! Dominic! Aidan gulped. What was he meant to say to that after he’d been sitting there, peeking at the dark hairs curling over the neckline of Dominic’s shirt, wondering how far down the rest of it went? Whether Dominic’s legs were as deliciously furred, whether there’d be a decent treasure trail down to his groin that a man could tangle his fingers and nuzzle his nose into, to smell the sweet warmth of male skin….
Hairy skin. Strong arms. Warm, muscular thighs. Oh fuck.
The goose bumps ran over every inch of Aidan’s skin.
“I am hairy, can’t deny it. You like that idea?” Dominic’s voice was low and growly. He couldn’t have failed to notice Aidan’s sucked-in breath, the tensing of his stomach muscles. “Do you want to check out my hairy credentials?”
Aidan stared at him. Was that a joke? Was Dominic really attracted to him? Aidan had never found his build much of an advantage. Yes, he and Zeb were blessed with excellent bone structure, and in Zeb’s case the grace of a dancer, but out in the bars and clubs Aidan always seemed to blend into the background.
Ah, but he was meant to be Zeb now, wasn’t he?
“I think you’ve misjudged me, Zeb.” Dominic’s voice was very close to Aidan’s ear now. He’d placed his hand over Aidan’s, pressing Aidan’s palm onto Dominic’s thigh.
“I—what do you mean?”
“I wouldn’t have thought you were my type, I admit. But there’s a spark between us, isn’t there?”
Oh God, yes. But Aidan couldn’t admit that, could he? He gulped, wishing he’d eaten three pies, if only to soak up the effect of the champagne. The warm, heady excitement from his newfound courage wasn’t as robust as he’d thought.
Dominic smelled really good: a mix of vanilla aftershave, or maybe just soap, and a breath of tannin from the wine. Aidan couldn’t help it; his lips opened slightly and his tongue slipped out to moisten them.
“Dear Christ in heaven,” Dominic said on a ragged sigh. “You’re really gorgeous.” He sounded shocked. Aidan remembered him saying it when they met at Dominic’s house, but now there was an extra rumble underlying his voice. “Say my name again. I like it. Most people call me Dom.”
“Dom… Dominic.” Aidan heard the words but barely registered speaking them aloud. He was fixated on Dominic’s mouth, not his own.
Their lips touched.
Aidan gasped. It was the lightest of touches, but like the heaviest bolt from the blue. It was as if Dominic had breathed a flame into him through his mouth. His whole body shivered with excitement: a trickle of pure, heated delight on his skin compared to the sweaty air of the club. Dominic rested his hand lightly on Aidan’s shoulder, at the junction with his neck. He slid his fingers to the front of Aidan’s throat and stroked the hollow under his Adam’s apple.
It’s not enough! Aidan wanted Dominic to slide his hand down under the T-shirts—remind him why he was wearing so many, none of which actually fitted properly?—and touch his skin. Properly, firmly, with need.
With a soft moan of pleasure, Dominic leaned in to take the kiss deeper.
Aidan responded very, very willingly. He slid his outer arm around Dominic’s waist and pulled them closer together. Dominic lifted his other hand away from Aidan’s and rested it on Aidan’s knee. Their lower halves were hidden by the table, and Dominic’s knee pressed very tightly against Aidan’s. His large hand squeezed gently, and then slowly, teasingly slid up between Aidan’s thighs. He nudged harder, trying to push Aidan’s legs farther apart.
Aidan’s head was swimming from the kisses. Dominic’s mouth was still on his, his surprisingly soft beard rubbing along Aidan’s jawline, his breath quickening. When Aidan twisted to get even closer, he felt the heat from Dominic’s groin and Dominic’s solid erection against his hip. He wanted to climb onto his date’s lap, however ridiculous or rash that seemed. Instead he ran his free hand behind Dominic’s neck and leaned in, excited despite himself at making out in a semipublic club. Dominic had cupped Aidan’s cock and balls, trapped inside Zeb’s skintight jeans. Now Aidan was aroused too; the seam of the jeans was pressing against his flesh, causing a strange, awkward, intoxicating pain. He half closed his eyes, relaxing into the embrace, enjoying Dominic’s firm caresses under cover of the table. It had been a long time since Aidan did anything like this, a long time since he’d wanted to do it, in fact.
He wanted more, needed more. Ached for more—
And that was the exact moment a camera flash went off in his face.
Clare London took her pen name from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with her other day job as an accountant.
She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with award-winning novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic, and sexy characters.
Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter three stage and plenty of other projects in mind… she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home.
Clare loves to hear from readers, and you can contact her here:
Google+ : https://plus.google.com/u/0/+ClareLondon/posts