"...A very interesting start...I was eager to see other fascinating aspects...Has sex in the fast track, never letting you lift your head while reading and your fingers are creeping towards regions best left alone. Misty’s sexy moves will leave you breathless with anticipation. Despite knowing each other for ages, Pete and Misty come closer...and the plot mainly focuses on Misty’s metamorphosis. Interesting bits are added in the form of Pete’s father, his brother and the deli. The way Ms. Blaise has answered all the questions that may have appeared in the reader’s mind is commendable...a fast-paced read worthy of a quiet afternoon."--Mahaira Fatima, Just Erotic Romance Reviews
"4 Cups!...Rife with subtle and explicit eroticisms making it a book to be read slowly so as not to miss anything! Misty, as the rich girl who has lost everything and is incredibly lonely, is so realistic I had tears in my eyes. Pete as the guy who cannot overcome his penchant for the bad girls--that is, until he sees Misty with the pill bottle--is very endearing. It was great reading about a guy who could admit, even if only deep inside himself, he was confused about women. The sex in this book is both hot and emotional, which for me is a must. Ms. Blaise has done it again, and I eagerly await her next book!"--Regina, Coffee Time Romance
"...A hot, fun read. I liked the voyeurism involved in the story--it was just enough to be sexy without being over the top. Pete was a great hero. He was sexy, sweet, caring, and adorably flustered at times...If you’re in the mood for a cute, hot, quick read with a touch of voyeurism, pick up Taking It Slow."--Cassie, Joyfully Reviewed
...Pete Fusconi. Now there was a man worth watching. She flipped off her lamp and sat the pill bottle on the end table before she picked up the binoculars in time to see him throw something across the terrace. He wore faded jeans and a soft-looking, blue v-neck sweater. His dark hair contrasted against the light color.
In the next second, he started to dance. What was wrong with him? He seemed a little spastic.
When he removed his sweater and stared in her direction, he startled her. People knew she watched them, but they weren’t usually this overt. With his shirt off, she concentrated her focus on his chest and adjusted the lens for a closer view. His chiseled pecs reminded her of the fireman calendar cover for May. The month with the most suicides, but where had she heard that? Had someone at John’s funeral mentioned it?
Pete Fusconi had come to John’s funeral. She remembered he’d worn a navy blue suit and had been a pallbearer. Her mother had arranged everything. It was funny how Pete always seemed to be on fringes of her life, but never quite in it. He’d also been in their wedding party. It seemed weird to ogle him like this, but she could swear he knew, and even wanted her to do it.
He really did have a wonderful chest and stomach. Not overly muscled, just solid lean curves. A smile tugged at Misty’s lips.
When was the last time she’d smiled? He took his sweater and put it behind him like he was towel-drying his backside. If he ran it between his legs… Misty smiled wider.
He tossed aside the shirt and continued his bizarre movements like he’d danced at her wedding when he’d had too much to drink. Both Pete and John had taken their drinking seriously. She remembered it well. Someone had told him to strip for her then, too…and he’d just now got around to it?
A giggle bubbled from her lips and her binoculars slipped. She pushed them back in place in her rush not to miss anything.
Pete reached for the zipper to his jeans and her breath hitched. Her heart rate increased. Wow.
She had no idea it could be so exhilarating to watch Pete. He took his time unzipping his jeans. Each second made her more nervous and anxious. A sensual curl of attraction reached her sex and she clenched with pleasure. Was he really doing this for her? If he’d only stop jerking like he was having a seizure, she could enjoy it more. Then he peeled both sides of his jeans aside.
Misty saw white underneath. When he continued to push his jeans down, she saw tight white briefs with a very significant bulge in the front. His jeans dropped below the wall running along the patio and she couldn’t see what he did with them.
In the next instant, he pitched forward and caught himself against the railing. He looked down like it worried him. Had he almost fallen to his death doing a striptease for her? Misty’s heart pounded harder.
He looked up at her and shrugged. She breathed a sigh of relief until he moonwalked backward and almost collided with the wall behind him. He moonwalked? Did people still do that? Misty laughed out loud and bumped the binoculars into the side of her nose.
With the wall stopping him, Pete did a crotch-grab as he danced. Could he get any cuter or sillier? He turned his chiseled buns toward her and wiggled them. When he hooked his thumbs into the sides of his briefs, she sucked air. This was getting really good.
He slowly lowered his briefs. May’s fireman had nothing on Pete. What an ass! He could be an ass model!
She wanted to touch. No—she wanted to do much more. If only he would stand still so she could get a really good look. It was hard to follow him with the glasses and Misty didn’t want to lose sight of him for a second.
When Pete ducked and dove sideways, she lost him. This dance just kept getting weirder.
She searched. Nothing. And then, she caught him in focus again. Thank you, God! When he turned around, Misty aimed the lens at his crotch.
His pale penis hung from the dark nest of hair, long and thick. If only he would stand still. It swung so much she couldn’t get a really good look. Occasionally, with his erratic movements, she’d catch a glimpse of his balls. Damn! It was definitely worth a long look!
And then he turned around again. Double damn. Even as nice as his shaking ass was…she wanted to see more of the front. Much more...