We recently discovered the incredible phenomenon of NASCAR-themed romance fiction, stories filled with passion and grease and beautiful people being driven swiftly to ecstasy and Victory Lane alike. What follows is a brief selection from one such tale.
From Force of Nature, by Kristina Cook:
When he returned, carrying a steaming platter of spaghetti with meat sauce, she was standing by the window, gazing out at the lake, wearing one of his button-down shirts. The French cuffs hung down past her wrists, the shirttails almost reached her knees.
"You look perfect," he said, unable to hide the awe in his voice. "So incredibly beautiful." With her pale, tousled hair falling around her shoulders, her long legs stretching out from the hem of his shirt, she looked as sexy as hell. And she was entirely his, he mentally added.
She turned to face him with a heart-stopping smile, pushing her hair back from her eyes. "Mmm, spaghetti. Okay, now I'm starved."
He set the tray down on the bedside table. "Before you can eat, you have to answer one question. Well, first you have to hear me out. Then answer one question. Deal?"
"You're quite the negotiator, aren't you? Okay, shoot." She leaned back against the window, the small of her back pressed to the sill as she stretched languorously. The hem of the shirt rose dangerously high, the view making his pulse leap.
He took a deep breath before he spoke, knowing he needed to get this right. "I'm in love with you, Shelly. I think I have been since that night in Daytona ..."
Be sure to tune in for the next steamy installment of Tailpipe — your smutty NASCAR romance story hour!