Just For The Weekend by Susanne Matthews
I’ve got some pretty talented friends and some great new reads coming out soon. That might be my favorite thing about ever getting into writing – getting to know all these other fabulous writers.
Today I’m sharing Susanne Matthews’ new book: Just For The Weekend
Sometimes, you have to step out of the box.
Kindergarten teacher, Cleo James, needs a break. For the past three years, she’s put her life on hold to help her father deal with grief, but now she’s ready to move on. A weekend in Vegas at a sci-fi convention may be just the place to start. She’ll be costumed as an alien and no one will recognize her. What could go wrong? Things get complicated when she’s attracted to a conventioneer whom she believes is a gorgeous Chippendale dancer. Can Cleo set her strict moral code aside and enjoy what promises to be a once upon a time weekend?
Multimillionaire real estate developer, Sam Mason has sworn off serious relationships. In Vegas to visit family and friends, he’s talked into attending a sci-fi convention for the night. Dressed as an alien, he’s confident he can elude the usual gold diggers looking to star in the role of Mrs. Sam Mason. When he spots a beautiful woman dressed as a green-skinned slave girl, he’s captivated by her and changes his plans to leave Vegas in the morning. The more time he spends with her, the more he realizes she’s unlike any woman he’s known. Fantastic sex and too much alcohol find him married to his alien siren, but before he can tell her the truth about himself and see if they can make their marriage work, the bride vanishes. Finding her is going to be a challenge.
Excerpt from Just For The Weekend:
“Holy crap! You could have warned me.”
Mitch wore a long black wig, heavy brown makeup, and the facial ridges of a female Klingon warrior. Her body was shoved into a tight, black leather corset-styled top that accentuated her breasts and a long, leather skirt paired with heeled boots with silver toecaps. She had a knife of sorts shoved into her belt.
“Wow! You look fantastic. I could use one of the push-up bras from hell if I ever wanted to look sexy.”
“What are you talking about? You’re one of the sexiest woman I know, and you’re completely oblivious to it. Get your nose out of your father’s ancient history books and look at yourself in the light of the twenty-first century. I love you, girl, but sometimes you frustrate me.”
“Yeah, well, let’s agree to disagree on that. I don’t want to be noticed that way. There’s more to me than a set of boobs and long legs. I’m much happier out of the limelight. Now, are you going to tell me about your makeup?”
“It’s a mask. My friend Hailey works at Paramount and made it for me last year. It gets a little warm after a while, but it’s a lot easier than putting the makeup on each time.”
“I wish I had something like that. Where’s the rest of my costume? I’d better be wearing more than green body paint, blood red lipstick, and gold eye shadow.”
“It’s on your bed.”
Cleo stared at the scraps of fabric and jewelry on the spread.
“No way! There’s got to be more to it than that.”
The costume consisted of a burgundy silk bikini bra, a matching string bikini bottom with gold-colored sheer skirt panels front and rear, gold muscle bracelets shaped like snakes, and two-inch wide metallic fabric ankle shackles without the chain.
“You’ve got to be kidding. I’ll look like a semi-naked leprechaun. How does that fit into a sci-fi convention?”
“It happens to be one of the most popular women’s costumes. For the record, leprechauns wear green, and unless they’re some kind of mutants, they aren’t green. With my five-foot-four figure, the costume loses something, but on you, it’ll be awesome.” Mitch handed her a glass of wine. “Here, take a drink and relax. You showed just as much by the pool this afternoon.”
“Yeah, and whose idea was that? I don’t see why I couldn’t wear my black swimsuit this afternoon. You seem to forget about the moral turpitude clause in my contract. Lying around in the sun half-naked is pushing it. I certainly won’t be wearing that blue bikini to take the kiddies swimming at the local pool.”
“That clause is archaic, and you worry about it way too much—between your father’s ‘rules’ and the school board’s ‘thou shall not’s,’ you’re living in the past. Besides you needed a new swimsuit. Even my mother doesn’t wear a one-piece bathing suit like the one you had. I don’t even think my grandma would wear it. You chose the bikini—there was that gorgeous leopard one…”
“You mean the one cut down to my navel in front, and so high on the hips my ass hung out? No thanks. At least the bikini covered most of my boobs and butt.”
“Whatever.” Mitch rolled her eyes. “Let’s get you dressed. We need to be downstairs in twenty minutes.”
Mitch helped her put on what was surely the skimpiest alien costume in the universe. Cleo stood before the mirror staring at the creature looking back at her.
“I look like a mutant leprechaun belly dancer.” She took a sip of her wine. “It’s a damn good thing you didn’t show me this when you asked me to come. I’d have said no.”
“For the record, you’re not a mutant leprechaun; you’re an Orion slave girl. Men are powerless before you. Too bad that cutie from the bar last night can’t see you. You’re worth a dozen of the brunette he was with. Come here so I can spray the glitter on you.”
Two glasses of wine in quick succession were easing her embarrassment, but as she allowed Mitch to spray the liquid shimmer on her hair and body, she couldn’t resist one final complaint.
“Well, I’d rather wear what you’re wearing. If the air-conditioning is turned up as high as it was this morning, I’ll be an Orion slave icicle!”
“Seriously, Cleo, relax. Don’t be a prude. No one’s going to recognize you. I know you’re not used to showing so much skin, but you look fantastic, and the men will be drooling all around you. Every woman in the room is going to envy you. You’ll be the most sought-after slave girl here. ”
“God, I hope not. That’s the last thing I want. I feel like a chunk of meat on display for a starving man. You’re the extrovert, the one who wants to be the center of attraction. I’m not. I think that’s why we’re friends—because we’re so different.” Horror filled her eyes as she thought of something else. “Crap, I hope no one takes my picture. The last thing I need is to have someone see us on the Internet and recognize me. I’ll wear this tonight because it’s too late to find anything else, but we’re going costume shopping tomorrow. I’m sure we can find something a little less revealing.”
“Whatever you say, but I don’t think anyone’s going to recognize you.”
Cleo turned around and stood in front of the mirror. Her mouth dropped open in shock. Good grief. It’s even worse than I imagined. Thanks to the glitter, her skin reflected the light and looked alive, shimmering as she moved. Her hair shone the same way, and she looked alluring and mysterious. Her large, hazel eyes seemed more golden than ever. Mitch was right about one thing: she didn’t look like a kindergarten teacher from Gordon’s Grove. She looked like a sexy, alien siren. Just the look I want around a bunch of half-drunk Neanderthals. She remembered how decent guys had turned into absolute jerks at university costume parties.
“If it makes you feel better, you can stand behind the table replenishing the books as I sign them and handing out the bookmarks and the other swag the publisher provided. Come on, let’s go.”
Cleo followed her best friend out of the room. She shook her head. Why do I let myself get talked into these things?
Cleo followed Mitch into the convention hall packed with hundreds of people in various alien costumes, and allowed some of the excitement in the air to calm her fears. She recognized outfits from various sci-fi movies and television shows. There were several Orion slave girls in a variety of shapes, shades, and sizes, and Cleo saw the not-so-friendly glares she got from them—especially when one of their male friends stared admiringly at her. She nodded in return and chuckled when one girl gave the guy she was with a jab in the ribs.
She tried to keep up with Mitch, who barreled across the room as if she were in a speed-walking race. Barefoot as she was, conscious of the icky, sticky carpet, Cleo moved slowly to avoid stomping boots and heels. She’d almost made it to the promised land of booth security when a giant, in snake-like makeup and the dark gray leather and chain mail associated with the Cardassians, grabbed her arm. He spun her around quickly.
“Hey, let go of my …” Her angry words died on her lips.
“What have we here?” He eyed her hungrily. “Are you lost, my pretty little slave girl?”
Familiar chocolate eyes pierced hers, and she couldn’t think straight. His whiskey-smooth voice caressed her; his touch ignited a fire along her spine. Realizing what he’d said, she searched for an answer.
“Lost? No, I got separated from my Klingon friend. She’s over there.”
She pointed to the publishers’ autograph area where Mitch stood.
“Then allow me to escort you safely to her.”
Holding her close to him, he ushered her across the congested convention floor. He bowed to Mitch and gave the Cardassian salute.
“I believe she’s yours, but I’m entitled to a reward for coming to her assistance.”
He smiled wickedly before pulling Cleo into his arms and capturing her mouth with his.
Cleo held herself rigid, but the kiss poured liquid fire through her. Of their own volition, her arms wrapped around his neck both to hold her upright and to encourage the incredible sensations to continue. His mouth devoured hers as if she was his last meal. She’d been kissed before, but never like this. When he slowly pulled away, she was breathless. She read desire in his eyes.
“Later, my Orion beauty.” He turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.
“Who the hell is that?”
“I have no idea.” Cleo reached for Mitch’s blue-tinted Romulan ale and drained the glass.
Susanne Matthews was born and raised in Cornwall, Ontario, a city of 46,000 located on the Canada-US border, Susanne completed her university education in two parts; she received her Bachelor of Arts degree in English and History from Carleton University and her Bachelor of Education at Queen’s University in Kingston. She worked as an educator for more than thirty years. Susanne and her husband have three children and five grandchildren
Susanne is an avid reader and likes nothing better than curling up with a good book and a beer camping or sitting around the backyard on a hot summer day. Her reading tastes are varied as are her writing preferences, but no matter what sub-genre she chooses, all her books have Happily Ever After endings.
You can follow Susanne or buy her other books by checking out her website:
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Top Ten Things I Learned Writing Just for the Weekend:
You can never avoid research. No matter what genre you choose as a platform for your story, you have to be correct and knowledgeable. When I started writing Just For The Weekend, I knew next to nothing about Nevada and the area surrounding Las Vegas. I knew quite a bit about the various sci-fi characters, especially those related to Star Trek, and I knew Vegas was a casino resort that attracted people by the droves, but there were many other things I didn’t know. Some I managed to work into the story, others I’ve kept for future endeavors.
Here is a list of some of the interesting things I discovered. When you read the book, you’ll be able to see how I wove the research into the story. If you’ve been to Vegas or are from the area, they won’t surprise you, but if you haven’t been, let me entertain you.
- Rachel, Nevada, a town with a population of less than 100, didn’t have electric power until 1978. Most of the people who live there live in mobile homes on their very own patch of scrub desert.Rachel is best known for its UFO claims. It has one bar/inn that caters to tourists. Since 1989, people from around the world have come to Rachel along Highway 375, also known as the Extraterrestrial Highway with an unofficial speed limit of Warp 7, to look for lights in the sky they think are extraterrestrial.
- Flash floods don’t only happen in the desert. While Las Vegas’ minimal rainfall each year is only about four inches, those four inches come in the form of sudden, violent thunderstorms. The parched landscape surrounding the town and the ever increasing amounts of pavement in the city, cause dangerous flash flooding. The Clark County Regional Flood Control District sites the statistic explaining since 1960, 11 serious floods have occurred causing more than a million dollars damage each. In that same period, 31 lives have been lost in 21 separate flash flood events in the city of Las Vegas.
- Teachers in the United States are subject to a moral turpitude clause that is actually a federal statute that can prevent you from even being admitted to the country. Teachers can be reprimanded and even fired for doing perfectly legal and acceptable things if one person complains they found it immoral. A teacher got suspended for posting a holiday picture of herself touring a winery.
- Rape and aggravated assault take place at an alarming rate at sci-fi conventions, not only in Las Vegas but in other cities around the world. It seems that filling people in costumes full of alcohol brings out the worst in them. The same thing happens all too often at Mardi Gras and Halloween celebrations.
- The colors of the rock in the Grand Canyon vary according to the composition of the stone and the strata at which it’s found. The canyon is constantly being eroded still by the Colorado River which apparently started the process 17 million years ago.
- The Hualapai (WALL-uh-pie), the “People of the Tall Pines,” have always lived in an area stretching from Grand Canyon to the Bill Williams River in west-central Arizona and from the Black Mountains bordering the Colorado River to the San Francisco Peaks. The Skywalk is located on tribal lands. It consists of a horseshoe shaped steel frame with glass floor and sides that projects about 70 feet from the canyon rim. The deck of the Skywalk is built of four layers of Saint-Gobain Diamant low iron glass with DuPont SentryGlas interlayer, designed to withstand local seismic activity and high wind pressure. The glass railings, 5 feet 2 inches high, are made the same way but with fewer layers and bent to follow the walkway’s curvature.
- Oatman, Arizona is one of the many ghost towns in and around Las Vegas. The Oatman Hotel, built in 1902, located in the center of town is where Clark Gable and Carole Lombard spent their wedding night after being married in Kingman, Arizona on March 29, 1939. You can spend the night in that suite if you like, but watch out for Oatie the ghost who walks the halls of the hotel.
- The Hoover Dam is also known as the Boulder Dam and is 1244 feet long, 660 feet thick, and 726 feet high. It held back so much water at the time of its construction people claimed it deformed the earth’s crust and caused over 600 small earthquakes in the first ten years after it was built.
- Lake Mead is the largest artificial reservoir in the United States in maximum water capacity. It was created by the Hoover Dam. When at capacity, Lake Mead is 112 miles long has 759 miles of shoreline, is 532 feet deep, and can hold 28 million acre-feet of water. The lake hasn’t been full since 1983 due to increasing droughts.Since 2000, the lake has lost 4 trillion gallons of water, causing the famous bath tub ring to grow. Why is this happening? Because the Colorado River is drying up, meaning over 20 million people would be without water.
- More than 36 million people visit Las Vegas each year. The famous Las Vegas Strip is 4.2 miles long and home to more than 33 casino Hotels. The average stay is 3.7 days. Over 9 billion dollars of state tax revenue comes from gambling, which accounts for 43% of the state’s revenue. The city hosts over 3700 conventions annually. Other employers in Vegas include a number of high tech firms, colleges and universities in and around the city.
This entry was posted on April 23, 2014 by Virginia Brasch. It was filed under Uncategorized and was tagged with Author Interview, Book Research, Just for the Weekend, New Book, Susanne Matthews, Top Ten List, What I learned while writing.