Naima Simone Naima Simone’s love of romance was first stirred by Johanna Lindsey and Linda Howard many years ago. Though her first attempt at writing a romance novel at age 11 never saw the light of day, her love of romance and writing has endured. Now, she spends her time creating stories of unique men and women who experience the dizzying heights of passion and the tender heat of love.
She is wife to Superman—or his non-Kryptonian, less bullet proof equivalent—and mother to the most awesome kids ever. They all live in perfect, domestically-challenged bliss in the southern United States.
Places to find Naima:
Chayot Grey’s Spaghetti Recipe
Chay’s Latch-Key Kid Spaghetti Recipe:
**Feeds 5 people (Mom, Gabe, Mal, Rafe, and Chay)
Ingredients for meatballs:
1 ¼ pound 80% lean ground beef
Just a little Worcshtershire sauce
Dash of soy sauce
Dab of mayonnaise
A little less than 1 cup of Italian bread crumbs
If you want to: a handful of grated parmesan cheese
Chopped garlic to personal taste
Dash of salt and pepper
A little olive oil
Mix all ingredients for meatballs up by hand. Form medium-sized meatballs. Warm olive oil in pan over medium heat, enough to get a T-sizzle going. Three at a time, quickly brown each meatball—don’t cook through and through. Just sear to keep the juices in. When finished, place them in a baking pan and shoot in oven at 425 degrees for 15 minutes.
Ingredients for the spaghetti sauce:
2 Family-size can of crushed tomatoes w/herbs (At least 2 26-oz cans)
2 small cans of tomato paste
At least 3 cloves of garlic
1 teaspoon of salt
A good pinch of sugar or a good tablespoon of honey
1 cup of Portobello mushrooms
2 sweet onions
2 green peppers
A little basil
2 tablespoons of extra-virgin olive oil
A little oregano
2 bay leaves
½ cup of favorite cheese (mozzarella, parmesan, sharp cheddar, etc.)
Chop up onions and green peppers. That’s a rough cut on the onions and peppers. Thinly slice mushrooms. Chop up basil. Chop up garlic. POW. At least three cloves to achieve the POW.
Add olive oil to a large pan over medium heat. Add vegetables, garlic, and basil and then sauté until they’re wilt and are lightly browned. Once done, drop into a large sauce pot. Add crushed tomatoes with herbs and one can of tomato paste, holding the other can in reserve. Add salt, oregano, bay leaves, and sugar/honey. Drop in a tablespoon of olive oil and cheese.
Then, add Secret Ingredient…
¼ cup of Jack Daniels smoked hickory barbeque sauce.
Cover pot. Simmer on a low heat for 1 hour, stirring occasionally. The last 10 minutes, remove meatballs from oven and place in the sauce.
While the sauce is cooking, boil water in a separate pot. Add a touch of salt and a little vegetable oil or olive oil to the water. When it comes to a boil, add spaghetti pasta and cook according to instructions on package. *Please don’t overcook*
If serving immediately, do not rinse pasta. Place spaghetti on dish and liberally cover with sauce and meatballs. Serve with favorite vino or chilled Yoo-hoo.
Six months after concert pianist Aslyn Jericho survives an attack at the hands of an obsessed fan, she is still trying to resume a normal life, despite the paralyzing fears that have stolen her ability to play and perform. Enter her gorgeous and mysterious neighbor with news that threatens to send her spiraling back into her nightmares. Her stalker has returned. And he wants Aslyn.
Months after security specialist Chayot Gray’s darkest secret was exposed to the world, he’s struggling to cope with the fallout. Shame and guilt threaten to consume him, and he longs for the anonymous, numb existence he’s known for two decades. Then he discovers a masked figure lurking outside his neighbor’s home. The pain-filled shadows darkening Aslyn’s eyes call to him, and her loveliness stirs a desire he didn’t know existed. Now Chay must conquer his inner-demons in order to save her from a madman determined to finish the job he started...
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After concert pianist, Aslyn Jericho, is almost kidnapped by her stalker, security specialist Chayot Grey hides her away in a safe house. There he cares for her, including preparing dinner—his spaghetti dish he’s cooked since he was a teen. Aaaand scene…
Aslyn grasped the bedroom doorknob and stopped. Twisted it. And stopped.
The delicious aromas that had crept into her room a half hour earlier had her stomach rumbling as if yelling. “Feed me!” Food waited down the hall.
If only she could leave her room.
Coward, a small, snide voice heckled.
So what she was cooped up in close quarters for God-knew-how-long with a man who razed every one of her guards and inhibitions to the ground? So what said man had a piano hauled to said close quarters just so she would have a modicum of familiarity in a strange space? So what the last time she’d been alone with said man he’d given her an orgasm that made TNT resemble a firecracker?Nope, no reason to huddle in the bedroom. No reason at all…
“Oh, for God’s sake,” she muttered and yanked open the door. Ordering herself to grow a pair, she strode through the airy condominium, tracking the scent heavy with Italian spices and garlic. She approached the kitchen entrance and skidded to a halt.
She’d witnessed Chay as the successful businessman. The knight in shining armor. The sensual lover. But this side of him—the domestic male—was one of her favorites. White cotton stretched across his wide shoulders and hugged tight muscles. Faded denim hung low on his hips, the frayed hem skimming bare feet. God, what the man did for a simple T-shirt and jeans should require ten Hail Mary’s and an Act of Contrition.
Funny how seeing him move around the kitchen reminded her of how he’d touched her the night before. Knowledgeable. Confident. Deliberate. She smothered a sigh. Everything he did reminded her of sex. He personified it. The subtle caress of his hair against his jaw. The play of muscle under his shirt. The sensual, almost predatory glide that masqueraded as a walk.
Yeah, Chay and sex?
“How’re you feeling?” He didn’t glance up from stirring the contents of a big pot on the stove.
She stepped into the kitchen, drawn by the mouthwatering scents and, well…him.
“Are you ready to eat?” Chay asked.
“Yes, I’m starving.” She picked up the napkins and silverware he’d set out on the counter and carried them into the dining room. “I didn’t know you could cook,” she called over her shoulder, placing the dining items on the table.
“Like I said before, son of a single mother who worked a full-time job. Sometimes a part-time one, too.” He entered the room, two plates heaped with pasta and red sauce in his hands. “Spaghetti and omelets. I kill spaghetti and omelets.”
“I kill pizza delivery,” she cracked, plopping down in a chair and picking up her fork. Inside she ached at the picture of a young Chay cooking for him and a mother who’d obviously been determined to make ends meet. Aslyn had grown up in a household with two loving and attentive parents who doted on their only child. They hadn’t been rich, but she’d never experienced lack, either. Both of her parents had worked, but her mother had always been home by four thirty, cooking, helping her with her homework, carting her to piano lessons. Her throat tightened as she twirled pasta around the tines. Most time the pain remained a dull, muted ache in her chest. But then there were moments like this when the sorrow from missing them reared up and sank its teeth into her heart.
“You don’t cook at all?” he asked. “Everybody has at least one dish they’re good at.”
She cleared her throat and slid a forkful of food into her mouth. And groaned. Spices and seasonings exploded across her taste buds, inciting them to do handstands and cartwheels on her tongue.
“Oh my God, this is wonderful.” She moaned again, lifting her gaze from her plate. And clashing with his.
Hunger she was 99.9% certain had nothing to do with spaghetti burned in his eyes. Her stomach knotted in response. Intense, hooded, his scrutiny stroked over her face before resettling on her mouth. She swallowed past her suddenly constricted throat.
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