The Story Of Lansing Lotte by L.B. Dunbar: Blog Tour and Giveaway

The Story Of Lansing Lotte by L.B. Dunbar: Blog Tour and GiveawayThe Story of Lansing Lotte by L.B. Dunbar
on April 28th, 2015
Genres: Contemporary, Romance
Pages: 383

I get it. I’ve heard the jokes. My name sounds like some medieval character who was a hero. Hell, my best friend’s named Arturo King. Ring any medieval bells? But this is my story and I’m no hero. I also get the jokes. Lancelot is a play on the words lance and lot, and a lance refers to a sword, which is a euphemism for dick. What does a man do with his dick? He fucks. A lot. So if my name is Lansing Lotte, I must be “fucking lot.” Get it? Fucking a lot? Which I’m not saying I don’t, that’s not the point. Another reference to something sexual. Get my point? Huh, I made a punny. But again this is my story, and I haven’t done anything funny. In fact, I’ve killed three women, and only one of them I loved. Yeah, that’s right? Not laughing now. It’s not funny. And I’m definitely no fucking hero.



Excerpt

tsoll tease 2

“Because I know you love her. It must hurt.”

“I…I don’t know that I’m capable of love, Lila. All I seem to do is destroy women, and myself.” She reached a shaky hand for me and pushed my longish bangs back from my forehead. It was surprisingly comforting.

“I don’t believe that,” she said. “I think you just have difficulty choosing someone safe.”

Her fingers continued through my hair and my muscles relaxed. It was soothing. It was motherly, which should have creeped me out, but didn’t. I don’t know what prompted me, but I laid my head down on her stomach. Her breathing was ragged, and I could hear her heart beat rapidly through the oxford shirt. She was holding her body still, but she continued to gently run her fingers through my hair. She was hesitant at first, almost as if she was petting me, but her fingers slipped into my longer locks and she massaged back and forth over my scalp.

I was relaxing into her stomach and my nose nuzzled against her. She was firm under there, and she had that sexy hip thing going on. She sucked in a breath when my nose drew a line back and forth across her belly. My mouth watered to get a taste of those hipbones just below her navel. She was dragging her fingers through my hair more intently, and I slid my face down her belly. She had a sweet fragrance about her, something flowery and something I wasn’t certain of at first. Instantly, I recognized that Lila smelled like sex.

My hand came up to remove the blanket from her legs and I heard her sigh. Her hand wrapped into my hair, tugging gently, and I took it as a sign to continue moving down her body. Her legs opened slightly and my nose dragged closer to my destination.

“You smell sexy, Lila.”

She sighed again and a choked sound followed. My eyes glanced up to discover hers were closed. Her head leaned back and her lips parted. I dragged my nose across her damp panties, inhaling her sweetness.

“You want me?” I breathed against her, knowing she was wet and ready for me under the cotton. I couldn’t believe it. Lila gave no hint that she was attracted me. She was well aware that I was continually turned on around her, but she gave me no indication that she could be attracted to me. Unless…

“We’re friends, right, Lila?” I said, a bit of curiosity in my voice.

She sighed again and I blew a breath onto her. Her arousal was heady, and I was intoxicated by her.

“We could be friends. Together. It would be a good distraction.” I kissed her over the cotton and I felt her sit upright. She looked drugged; her eyes glassy and confused.

“I can’t,” she said on a choke.

“What?” I softly groaned.

“I…I can’t do this with you.”

“Lila, I didn’t mean…”

She was pushing back into the corner of the couch, forcing me to sit upright. She grabbed the blanket off the floor to cover her, but then decided to stand.

“Lila, I…”

“I can’t compete with ghosts, Lansing.”

“Lila, it’s not like…”

“I know all about ghosts…and I can’t fight them whether dead…or alive,” Lila added, as she held the blanket before her legs like a shield and quickly turned to leave me stunned on the couch.

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About L.B. Dunbar

’d like to say I was always a writer. I’d also like to say that I wrote every day of my life since a child. That I took the teaching advice I give my former students because writing every day improves your writing. I’d like to say I have my ten-thousand hours that makes me a proficient writer. But I can’t say any of those things. I did dream of writing the “Great American Novel” until one day a friend said: Why does it have to be great? Why can’t it just be good and tell a story?

As a teenager, I wrote your typical love-angst poetry that did occasionally win me an award and honor me with addressing my senior high school class at our Baccalaureate Mass. I didn’t keep a journal because I was too afraid my mom would find it in the mattress where I kept my copy of Judy Blume’s Forever that I wasn’t allowed to read as a twelve year old.

I can say that books have been my life. I’m a reader. I loved to read the day I discovered “The Three Bears” as a first grader, and ever since then, the written word has been my friend. Books were an escape for me. An adventure to the unknown. A love affair I’d never know. I could be lost for hours in a book.

So why writing now? I had a story to tell. It haunted me from the moment I decided if I just wrote it down it would go away. But it didn’t. Three years after writing the first draft, a sign (yes, I believe in them) told me to fix up that draft and work the process to have it published. That’s what I did. But one story let to another, and another, and another. Then a new idea came into my head and a new storyline was created.

I was accused (that’s the correct word) of having an overactive imagination as a child, as if that was a bad thing. I’ve also been accused of having the personality of a Jack Russell terrier, full of energy, unable to relax, and always one step ahead. What can I say other than I have stories to tell and I think you’ll like them. If you don’t, that’s okay. We all have our book boyfriends. We all have our favorites. Whatever you do, though, take time for yourself and read a book.