This year team ROMP’s sexy scenes are taking on Team STOMP’s action scenes, and frankly, I don’t think this is a fair fight. Team ROMP wins, TKO in the first round. What to know why?


The end.

Come on! You’ve got to give team ROMP all the points for this one. In a sexy scene you get all the fabulous full-body contact of a fight scene, the sweating and gripping, the thrusting and pounding, but without the blood, bruising, and missing teeth. If you like blood, bruising, and missing teeth (or a vanquished bad guy), well, a big fight scene leads right into to a passionate sex scene. You have to work off all that adrenaline somehow, right? ☺

But really, readers in romance or paranormal genres can’t lose either way. Fighting is as intimate as sex, while sex is just another battle in the game of love.

Take a look below at a scene from my latest release, EVENING STORM, featuring a hot-tempered lingerie designer and a wolf of Wall Street. Fight scene or sex scene? Either way, it’s hot, hot, HOT! And if you agree that sexy-times trump fighting-times, vote for team ROMP. Thanks to Jennifer and Rachel for hosting this fabulous event!



Simone stopped in the center of the hallway and turned to face Ryan, refusing to begin this conversation backed into a wall. She opened her mouth, but he got in the first word.

“Jesus Christ,” he said. His gaze flickered over the details: her forehead, her cheekbones, her lips, her throat, lingering on the notch between her collarbone, the teal silk straining over her breasts, and her tightly compressed waist. He’d seen her in regular clothes, and he clearly knew the shape of her body well enough to tell that she had changed it. He’d spent enough time in Irresistible to know how.

“You look unreal,” he said almost inaudibly, his hand lifting to her waist.

The compliment caught her off guard, but not because she thought it was unusual. Ryan would praise women as a matter of course. No, what arrested her voice and her throat was the raw authenticity of the compliment. He didn’t say she looked pretty, or beautiful, or lovely. He said she looked unreal. She couldn’t breathe, and not just because of the corset. She couldn’t breathe because Ryan was telling her the truth.

“Why are you wearing that for him?”

“I’m not wearing it for him,” she snapped. “I’m wearing it for me. If you paid any attention at all to anything I’ve said about my work, you would know that. Go home and sober up.”

In one smooth movement he stepped into her, forcing her backward against the wall, then flattened his palms on either side of her head. “Don’t leave.”

“We both have to leave,” she snapped. “You probably have yet another woman waiting and I have—”

“Your former lover? Or current?”

“You are in no position to ask such a personal question,” she said flatly. She was having difficulty breathing, and not only from her tightly constricted waist. The elemental emotions flashing from Ryan—anger, possessiveness, sheer masculine desire—took up all the air in the restaurant, the block, and perhaps the city. “You know what you have to do to earn that, right?”

Tension twanged between them like a struck power line. His arm blocked her from leaving, although she could have easily ducked under it. She didn’t. Instead she stood and let his gaze slide over her like a searchlight. The teal brocade sleeves hugged her arms from shoulder to wrist, and the cowl neckline folded away from her throat, exposing her bare shoulders and, from Ryan’s angle, the tops of her breasts, supported by the corset’s cups. His breathing slowed, deepened, as he looked at her and quite deliberately put his hand on her waist.

“Jesus,” he whispered when he encountered the steel stays. “Simone.”

They were alone at the back of the corridor, sconces softly lighting the space in soft pools. They stood in the darkness between two of the pools. His head was bent, looking into her eyes, not down the front of her jacket, as his hand trailed around to the bottommost button and slipped it free.

“Show me,” he said. “Show me what you wore for him.”

“I wore it for me,” she repeated. “Not for him.”

His gaze searched hers for a long moment. “Even better,” he said finally. “Show me what makes you feel confident. Sexy.”

His hand followed hers as she unbuttoned the rest of the placket, sliding up from the bottom. The final button, set high on her collarbone under one of the cowl’s folds, felt like stepping into thin air.

She opened the button. He spread the drooping fabric, revealing a corset that matched the jacket, a brilliant shade of teal silk without any additional ornamentation that drew attention to her body, not to the corset itself.

“How did you get yourself into this?” he murmured.

“Lorrie laced me in before she left for the day.”

His hand slid to her back, fingers delicately touching the grommets, the lacing. When he encountered the recommended two-inch gap at the back of the corset, compressing her waist by two inches, he froze. “Jesus,” he breathed. “Let me see.”

She could feel heat radiating from his palm to the small of her back. “I’m not taking off my jacket and turning my back to you in Bouley’s corridor,” she said. If she sounded breathless, the corset was at fault, not the scent of Ryan’s skin, the heat staining his cheekbones, the heavy-lidded look in his eyes.

After a moment his hand followed the exaggerated curves of her hip, waist, and ribs to the swell of her breast above the cups, where his thumb came to rest.

“What’s your definition of irresistible? Too powerful to be resisted?” He laughed, but the sound was pained. “It worked. I want to give you everything you want.”

The image flashed in her mind, bright hot and searing, Ryan naked and on his knees in front of her. He would unbutton the jacket and spread the fabric to either side, ruck her skirt up to her hips, and put his mouth between her legs. He would lick and suck and please her until she told him to stop. The image made her breath come short, but she wasn’t thinking about her own sexual pleasure. She was thinking about Ryan, naked.

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Stomp vs Romp – Anne Calhoun Hits Hard with Team Romp

Evening Storm by Anne Calhoun

Series: Irresistible #4
Published by InterMix on August 18th 2015
Genres: Paranormal, Romance
Pages: 384

The national bestselling author of The List continues her sinfully addictive Irresistible series…

When it comes to the wolves of Wall Street, Ryan Hamilton is the leader of the pack. But his bravado is all bluff. The bank he works for is up to it’s assets in fraud and shady deals. And thanks to pressure from the NYPD and FBI, Ryan is working as both a trader and a whistleblower. His only respite from the tension is when he parades his latest arm candy at a fancy lingerie shop.

Simone Demarchelier owns Irresistible, crafting custom high-end lingerie. So she’s more than happy that Ryan is spending a fortune on his women. But she senses that behind the hotshot facade there is something more. Something tortured and sad. And when he flies her out to the Hamptons in the shadow of a summer thunderstorm in order to fix one of her designs, she instead finds herself stuck in the opulent home with a distraught Ryan.

Is Simone the one person who can mend Ryan’s heart and soul?


About the Author

About Anne Calhoun

After doing time at Fortune 500 companies on both coasts, Anne Calhoun traded business casual for yoga pants and started writing the stories that got her through a decade of tedious meetings. Her first release, Liberating Lacey, won the 2010 EPIC Award for best Contemporary Erotic Romance. Sarah Wendell of Kirkus Reviews and NBC Washington listed Liberating Lacey as a great choice to follow 50 Shades of Gray for readers new to erotica and erotic romance. 

Anne has been a poker-faced HR specialist, a cube-locked IT geek, and a run-off-her-heels administrative assistant. She holds a B.A. in English and History and an M.A. in American Studies. Visit for information on upcoming releases, and follow her on Twitter as @annecalhoun. Anne lives in the Midwest with her husband, son, and a rescue dog named Kate, where she is at work on her next novel.