Tell Me a Story Featuring Cynthia B. Ainsworthe

Hello friends, it’s week five of the blog series “Tell Me a Story” and I hope you are enjoying it as much as I am. This week’s featured author is a sweet friend and a talented writer. Cynthia B. Ainsworthe ( the middle initial is important, there’s another author with her name). If you missed last week’s featured author please click HERE.

Cynthia B Ainsworthe has longed to become a writer. Life’s circumstances put her dream on hold for most of her life. She ventured to write her first novel, “Front Row Center”, which won the prestigious IPPY (Independent Publisher) Award. This novel is now being adapted to screen. A script is in development by her and known Hollywood screenwriter, producer, and director, Scott C Brown. Terri Garber, famous, stunning, and talented actress in the miniseries as Ashton Main, played opposite Patrick Swayze in North & South, and had a prime role in Dynasty, has praised Ms. Ainsworthe’s talent.

5 Stars! “Cynthia Ainsworthe’s writing is fun, sexy and exciting. She uses her creativity and femaleness and turns it into pure … intrigue. They are well-written reads. Once you start to read one, you won’t want to put it down, because you know you’re in for a juicy ride.” Terri Garber, renowned actress of screen and television.

Cynthia shares, with other authors, the Reader’s Favorite International Award for two short stories, “When Midnight Comes”, and “Characters”, which she contributed to the horror anthology “The Speed of Dark”, compiled by Clayton C Bye, published by Chase Enterprises Publishing. She garnered the Excellence in Writing Award from It Matters Radio for her short story “It Ain’t Fittin'”. Cynthia has been a guest on several talk radio shows. She has authored cookbooks and enjoys French and International recipes. As a retired cardiac RN turned author, Cynthia enjoys her retirement in Florida, caring for her husband and their poodle-children, as well as cooking, sewing and crafting.

Dangerous Reach Back cover

Amelia’s “no fear” approach puts her in deadly peril. Is the chance for a meaningful life worth devastating consequences?

Amelia Hollingsworth, a modern duchess in an arranged and loveless marriage, trades her salacious London lifestyle for the glamour of the Hollywood red carpet when she agrees to visit famed movie producer, Trenton Lowe. What starts as a carefree sojourn in Malibu turns ugly as evil intent weaves its invisible web and threatens her existence.

She lives by her own rules and soon finds others are calling the shots as her control disintegrates into one of helpless fear. Will her new Hollywood lover be her deliverance from torment or will he succumb and pay the ultimate price for their mutual devotion? Who will pay the price? Amelia? Trenton? Evil comes in all shapes and forms.

Dangerous Reach
Chapter One

“DON’T GO NEAR that hellcat, Trenton,” David Carson advised his American friend with a smooth English accent. “She’ll have you for dinner and will expect you to thank her for the privilege of being devoured.” His twinkling brown eyes let his American friend know he knew secrets of London’s who’s who. A chiseled jaw and striking features caused the female members of the crew to give this Londoner a second glance on more than one occasion.

Trenton Lowe’s mouth dried. He swallowed a couple of times. I hope she’s single. What a knock out! He fought the beginnings of his arousal as he scrutinized the shapely redhead flitting around the cocktail area filled with royal and prestigious wedding guests. A few young men circled around her like sharks closing in on their next meal.

Trenton didn’t know many of the guests and sized up this gathering as being similar to the insincere Hollywood parties his profession demanded he attend. The only difference was this English beauty sashaying about the room, playing the sublime hostess role to the hilt. Is she truly this audacious or overacting?
He nudged David’s elbow. “I have no idea why I’m invited. I have no connection to these people.”

“This April wedding fete is meant to impress. Word is, the infamous duchess orchestrated the entire event eclipsing much input from the bride’s mother.” His friend spoke in a low tone, careful not to be overheard. “You are here to meet the groom, Amelia’s cousin—Stuart Dumont-Bradford, ol’ chap. He’s written a novel or has nearly completed it and she most likely hopes that you will produce the blasted thing, making it the next blockbuster on the big screen.” David’s cynical chuckle erupted, running his hand through his medium brown hair. “The groom is a new marquess and viscount. He’s not properly royal.”

“How’s that?” British doubletalk drives me crazy.
“He doesn’t require to be addressed as a royal.” He took a hefty swallow of champagne from his glass. “Prefers to be addressed as ‘mister’, of all things—ruddy damn improper if you ask me—damn improper.”
“Who placed me on the guest list? Stuart?” Trenton sipped from the slender flute. He couldn’t pull his eyes from her image. It was as if she were a phantasm drawing him in.

“I had no idea.” He chewed on a shrimp canapé from the rounding waiter while sizing up the beauty with the massive head of hair. “Tell me more about the duchess. She free?”
“Only if you’re young.” He eyed his friend’s face. “Though you look youthful for your age, you don’t fit into that category and neither do I. She’s more than a challenge for any stout-hearted bloke.”

“I’ve never walked away from a challenge—too pigheaded for that.” Trenton continued to study her from across the room. “She married?”
“Oh yes, to the duke.” David seemed delighted in relating the gossip about her. “Alistair doesn’t care for her. He has … other interests.”
He licked his lips. A force made him want to taste her kiss, feel her warmth pressing against him. “If I had a wife like Amelia, I wouldn’t leave her alone. I’d have her in the bed, on the sofa, wherever I could find privacy.”
David stared at his friend. “Feeling a bit randy? She’s more than a handful—too much for me.”
“Sounds like my kind of woman.” Trenton gazed at her, contemplating his new quest.

“You haven’t been divorced that long. You’re ready to jump back into those same old brambles?” David laughed. “What are you, masochistic?” He elbowed his friend’s arm. “Try out the waters of beauties before settling on one—get your sea legs back.”
“It’s not my sea legs I’m concerned with.” He wet his lips again and ran his finger between his neck and shirt collar. “There’s a mystique about her.”
“Yes. She does have that—in spades.” David finished his drink in one swallow. “It’s well-known she pays for her young lovers.”
Amelia smiled beguilingly at one of the waiters. Trenton watched her slip a card from her purse onto the tray. The young man smiled and tucked it into his uniform jacket pocket.

She’s smooth. Doesn’t she realize that most in this room know what she’s up to? Doesn’t she care about negative gossip? “How about an introduction?” Trenton’s eyes remained fixed on her, Amelia’s every nuance burned into his memory.
“That’s easy.” David placed his empty glass on the waiter’s passing tray. “Follow me.”

The two men squeezed through the milling guests, making apologies as they approached her. David lightly tapped Amelia’s shoulder. She turned to him and flashed an electrifying smile at Trenton. Her eyes gave him a silent invitation. Or was that what he hoped the message was from her?
The English co-producer sported a broad smile. “Your Grace, may I introduce you to a dear American friend of mine?”
She smiled with an arched eyebrow, giving him an up and down appraisal. “By all means.”

He continued, “I’m pleased to introduce Mr. Trenton Lowe, Hollywood producer and a fine connoisseur of all things beautiful and creative, and—”
She spoke before David could complete the introduction. “Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Lowe. I’m Amelia Hollingsworth, the Duchess of Steffenfordshire, and a connoisseur of all things pleasurable and tasty. Please call me Amelia. I find titles such a bore, as well as those who have them, equally so. Of course there are exceptions—my cousin Stuart Dumont-Bradford, for one. He’s an extremely talented author.”

She’s certainly direct. “I’m very happy to meet you.” He knew her melodious voice would haunt him night and day. Her green eyes with blue borders gleamed with mischief and would be difficult to forget, the color of pine with patches of sunlight. Bedroom eyes. He could stare into them all night and well into dawn and beyond.

Amelia cleared her throat, breaking his intense thoughts. She flashed him a sassy smirk and cocked her head, obviously sensing what was in his mind.
She extended her hand. Trenton took it gently in his, not certain if he should leave a kiss on her glove. Her middle finger gently stroked his palm. He got her message—loud and clear. His mouth grew dry again causing him to swallow hard.

“So you make movies?” She stepped past the two men and gestured for them to follow her to the side of the room. “I find that utterly fascinating.”
“Your Grace, a few movies have my name attached to them.” The words scratched past his raspy throat. He took a glass of champagne from the waiter’s tray. Any minute she’ll serve me the pitch on a silver platter.
David left to socialize with the other wedding guests.

“No. He’s too polite for such an obvious overture.” David lifted his glass slightly in her direction. “That vivacious redheaded lovely over there—the one in the bright green dress—a spitfire and devil-may-care vixen—Amelia Hollingsworth, the Duchess of Steffenfordshire.” He chuckled, then smirked. “You’re in bloody good company. Mostly nobles and royals here, save for the bride and her relatives. Though, the bride’s stepfather is the renowned Larry Davis—Yank singer and composer extraordinaire. When you meet her, address her as ‘Your Grace’. If you yourself were royal, then you would call her ‘duchess’. I was invited for the same purpose—networking and PR to elevate the groom’s endeavors.”

“Please, call me Amelia. Remember, I already told you that. Titles and royal protocol are tiring and meant for stuffy snobs.” She edged closer. “I’ve never had a Hollywood producer before.” She sipped her drink and looked up at him beneath her long false eyelashes. “Are you tasty?”
Trenton coughed loudly and nearly choked on the effervescent liquid. He took a napkin to his mouth. “No one has evaluated me in those terms. You are very frank in a refreshing sort of way.” He glanced at her cleavage. She does have nice tits. She grinned while her eyes followed his, clearly enjoying him appraising her assets. “Back to your question. I haven’t had any complaints.”

Amelia inclined her head and raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t been evaluated by me. I have very high standards.”
Trenton stepped back to the point where he felt a chair against his legs. “You are assuming that I would want your critique.”
Amelia smiled and ran her tongue along the upper edge of her teeth. “You like the chase? A bit of a challenge induces or strengthens a rising?”
His brows arched. “A ‘rising’? I don’t understand.”
She chuckled and fingered his jacket lapel. “That’s British talk for an erection … I assume you still have them?”
Trenton’s face warmed. “Yes. But, that isn’t something I normally discuss, especially at a wedding reception.”
What will she do? Pitch Stuart’s novel through the back door? Trying to keep me off balance?

“I never go for soporific party talk.” She winked. “Too much time can be wasted with the superficiality of niceties, only to be left wanting when the meat is separated from the bone.” She touched her décolletage, drawing in his focus. “The bone is what counts. Don’t you agree, Trent?”
He cleared his throat. “It depends on which perspective. By the way … my name is Trenton.”

“To me,” her tongue slowly ran across her lips, “you are known as Trent. That is the name I’ve chosen.”
“You have, have you?” He glanced briefly around the room. “What if I don’t like being called Trent?”
“After one night with me, you would like any name I call you.” She sipped her champagne. “Yet, it doesn’t have to be at night. Mornings and afternoons are good, too.”

“Amelia, how can you be so blatant?” Is her husband near? “Aren’t you worried about gossip?” He shot a brief glance to the wedding guests and then back to her eyes, captivating eyes he couldn’t escape.
“I swim in gossip—especially if it’s about me.” She took her calling card from her purse and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket. Her fingers lingered on his chest. He enjoyed the warmth of her touch. It raised his core temperature a few degrees.

“I was told you’re married.” He took another swallow. “What makes you think I’m interested in a married woman?”
“If you weren’t, you would have left after the first introductions.” She moved a step closer. “Alistair has his diversions, too. We have an understanding. He doesn’t mind in the least.”
I can nearly feel her breasts against my chest. Her fragrance enveloped him—another detail that would haunt him. His pulse quickened even more.
A young man approached and whispered in her ear. Without a word she turned and flicked him off like an annoying mosquito.
“Am I keeping you from something, or someone?” I bet he’s one of her diversions.

“Oh, him?” She turned and watched the man walk away. “They’re a penny a dozen. Like Alistair, he understands. He’ll be replaced when I tire of him.” She returned her attention to Trenton, inclining her head in an enticing fashion. Her finger tapped his chest. “I might have found his replacement already.”

“I’m at the backside of thirty and don’t intend on being a plaything for a bored woman who has nothing better to do than to pay young men to entertain her.” She is totally off-the-wall and extremely spoiled.
“I never said I paid anyone!” The seductiveness in her face faded as her eyes pierced his, and she spoke with steely softness. “Before you listen to gossip, Mr. Lowe, you had better verify your sources. I don’t need to pay. Men clamor for my attention.”

I hit a hot button there. “I apologize. I was way out of line.”
“Quite right.” She pouted as her fingertip drifted to her cleavage.
Desire clouded Trenton’s eyes and drove his actions. “Maybe we could meet for a, a cup of tea?”

I can’t believe I’m asking her out. She’s a married woman, and a royal at that, not to mention a spoiled brat.
“After insulting me, you plan to make up for that verbal assault with tea?” A small smile curled the corners of her mouth.
“I’m in London for a while, working on a movie deal, I mean filming a movie.” Flustered, he rubbed his forehead. “Lunch? Maybe dinner would be better for you?”

“Your proposal is sounding better by leaps and bounds … almost as good as what it takes to rumple the sheets.” As she talked, he watched her breasts rise and fall with each deep breath. “I prefer dinner. My afternoons have been rather booked with one charity or another, not to mention the boys.”
Trenton pulled out his phone and checked his schedule. “Next Thursday is open. Where should I pick you up—at your place?”
“Where are you staying?” Amelia took a swallow of champagne, her eyes boring into his.

“The Corinthia. You know where it is?” That was dumb. Of course she knows where it is. She lives in London.
Her smile held a trace of a smirk. “I think I can find it.” She slowly stroked the stem of the flute. “Shall we say seven for Thursday next?”
“Seven it is. Unless you want to come sooner.” He leaned down, feeling a surge of confidence.
“‘Come sooner’?” She chuckled. “I like your choice of words. I had better come first, if you get my drift.” The tip of her tongue slipped between her lips.“You may be disappointed.” He moved closer and whispered, his head all but touching hers, “I have no intention of bedding you.”
“That’s your lack of intention—not mine.” Her fingers traced his jaw slowly. “The duchess always gets her target … and the target is always grateful for it.”
“I’m only taking you out to dinner as an apology—nothing more.” Why am I so attracted to her?
Amelia patted his chest. “Yes. That’s the premise to fit with social convention.”

“As I mentioned before,” How am I going to make her understand? “you are married. I’m not comfortable getting involved when a husband is in the picture.” Her lips are like raspberry jam dropped into a bowl of cream. I could watch her mouth move all day not to mention those tits. I wonder if they’re real and how they’d feel.
“You’ll have to do better than that.” Her free hand grazed his thigh.
Is she gonna grab my dick next? No one seems to notice her, or if they do, they don’t care.
“Seriously, maybe dinner was a bad idea.” I want her. Why? She’s forward and obvious.

“Ridiculous! We can have a nice friendly dinner.” Her seductive smile intrigued him and spawned lewd images of them together. “Besides, I might have only been playing with you. I love games of all sorts. If I merely suggest something, it doesn’t mean I’m serious.”
“I-I have never met anyone as free-spoken as you.” Her body is driving me insane. Damn! I want her!

“Yes. I’m a rare breed.” She looked about the room. “I must go and mingle. Time to check up on the bride and groom.” As she left, she called back to him, clearly not caring if guests overheard. “Thursday at seven. Don’t keep me waiting, nor wanting. Bring the condoms.”
Trenton nodded. He glanced at eavesdroppers and smiled, trying to hide his embarrassment. A few eyed him and smirked, obviously recognizing Amelia’s new target.

Her temper is as fiery as her hair—that makes me hot! Is she just one big tease wrapped in a gorgeous British package? Will I give in to her? Oh man, I want to. No woman has ever gotten the better of me, except for my bitch of an ex.

It’s getting a bit steamy……Are you ready to read the rest? Please click on the book cover and come back and let me know how much you loved the book (smile).

Connect with Cynthia at cynthiabainsworthe.com

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Next week’s featured author is Linda Deir.

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