CATEGORIES: Excerpt, Ruth Clampett
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In a life driven by passion, famed artist Maxfield Caswell lives in a world of brilliant color and drama, pushing his art and affairs to his emotional edge. He’s stunning, charismatic and celebrated in the art world, but are the trappings of fame also destroying him?

For years intelligent and bright-eyed Ava Jacobs has worked diligently toward a career in the art world. Ava is swept off her feet when she meets the passionate artist. She soon realizes, however, that he’s on a destructive path—one she doesn’t intend to join him on.

In the decadent world of patrons, art groupies, and predators, feisty and beautiful Ava knocks Max off his pedestal. A stunned Max sees something special in Ava and offers her an opportunity she can’t refuse. As their lives and passions collide, will he realize that she alone has the power to heal him? Can their hearts come together to create their own work of art?

EXCERPT: Work of Art: The Inspiration

Ruth Clampett

Book Series: 

From the author of Animate Me, comes a seductive and mysterious story about a young woman trying to leave a mark on the art scene, and a tortured but very talented artist—Work of Art: The Inspiration. And today, I have for you a wonderful excerpt which not only showcases this author’s fantastic writing style, but also the delicious sexual tension simply dripping from the pages of this book! Enjoy!

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“Have you thought about me since our last meeting?”

I blush as I finger the stem of my wine glass and give him a shy smile.

“Because, believe me, Ava, I’ve thought about you.” His smile is a mix of satisfaction and promise of what’s to come.

“Good thoughts?”

“Very good. The kind that keep me up at night.”

I feel my heart speed up when I note the fire in his eyes.

“What do you think? Remember what we talked about outside Chaya’s? Do you still want to hear about my dream?”

In my wine-soaked haze, I nod, smiling. I think I want to hear it.

There’s a long pause as he swirls the wine in his glass and takes a long sip. “So, picture my office.” He looks at my bottom lip as I bite it and takes a deep breath before looking into my eyes.

I nod.

“In my dream, it’s evening. I approach my office and the room is dimly lit. When I step inside, I see you sitting back on the leather couch, waiting.”


He nods. “For me.” He narrows his eyes as he drags his tongue across his lips. “Your legs are slightly parted, and you have a short skirt on which shows off your tantalizing legs, and I can’t wait to run my hands up and down the soft skin of your thighs. I sit across from you, and you spread your legs very slowly until they’re open for me.

I blink several times, trying to keep my mouth from falling open. It’s apparent this dream’s definitely not PG rated.

“You have no panties on and it takes every bit of restraint not to rush things. I imagine getting up, slowly stepping up to where you sit, then sinking to my knees and pushing your skirt up.”

Whoa. I shift in the booth, trying to relieve the lust pulsing through me. My face is on fire from his graphic description, and I can only imagine what’s coming next.

“As I approach you, you look at me with a sultry gaze and then tip your head back. Your nipples strain against your sheer blouse as you take several long slow breaths.”

“Oh, Jonathan,” I whisper, as an image of him sinking to his knees before me floods my imagination.

“So tell me, Ava, would you have let me pleasure you?”

I’m stunned, my heart pounding.

He looks so pleased when I nod.

“You and me on my couch for hours on end with the city lights before us, and everyone else gone. Think of the possibilities.”

A faint moan escapes my trembling lips.

“Shall I go on?”

I nod, while pressing my thighs together, desperately craving any form of friction.

And to my great shock, he takes my hand and places it on the front of his slacks. I feel his cock swelling under my fingers. I nervously look around the restaurant but the heavy tablecloth covers everything, and the way our booth’s situated, there’s no way anyone can see what we’re doing unless they perched under our table.

“Oh, yes. I like your hand on me,” he whispers, gasping as he thrusts his hips a little forward.

He’s fully erect now, and when I cup my fingers around him, his cock throbs in my grip.

He swallows hard and clears his throat. “Oh, the things I want to do to you, Ava.” He reaches under the table, places his hand on my bare knee and ever so slowly traces his fingertips up my inner thighs, edging up the skirt of my dress as his hand slides higher.

Ahh…your skin is so soft,” he says quietly. The tips of his fingers skim across the silk of my panties and I can’t help but shift my hips towards his touch. His features are remarkably calm, despite the building sexual tension. I press my fingers over the length of him again, teasing and taunting.

Oh my God! We’re in freaking Spago…his hand is between my legs and I’m grabbing his cock.

I down the rest of my Sauvignon in two gulps while he moves my hand slowly down his shaft. At this point, I’m feeling like a femme fatale. Waiters slide by and busboys remove extra plates from nearby tables while my hand grips his impressive erection.

“So, Ava.” He leans back further into the booth. “Are you pleased to know how much you excite me?”

“Yes,” I whisper, as with each stroke of his fingers, I fight the urge to spread my legs even further open.

Oh, Jesus, his cock is even harder now, and my thighs are quivering for the want of his body on top of mine…the need to feel him inside of me. I scan the dining room. Surely someone in this friggin’ restaurant knows what’s going on. People can’t be so distracted by their foie gras and New York steak that they don’t notice a man a mere zipper away from a hand job under the Spago tablecloth?

I look over and see the color rising across his cheeks, but otherwise he looks remarkably composed while his cock bucks and pulses in my grip. He finally presses his face into my hair and whispers hotly in my ear, “I desperately want to make love to you right now, Ava.”

The wait staff removes the dessert dishes and startles us out of our bubble. Despite my embarrassment, I try ridiculously to maintain enough composure to make up for Jonathan, who’s increasingly distracted.

I slowly let go of him and slide my hand back to my lap. He finally pulls his face away from my hair and reaches over for his water glass, downing half of it in several swallows. I feel his hand move off my thigh onto his, and hear the rustling under the table as he adjusts himself and takes a deep breath.

I’m sure Wolfgang would be pleased to know we found the evening so exciting, I think with wide eyes.

When I glance over, he looks completely happy and gives me a big sexy smile.

He runs his fingers lightly over my hand resting on the table and summons the waiter.

“Check, please.”

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