Monthly Archives: June 2014

Feeling the Heat

This isn’t a complaint about the weather. Not after that horrific winter we had in Michigan. I honestly don’t mind the heat, but what makes it unbearable is the humidity. This is probably the first time in about eight years where we haven’t had central air or an AC unit. Lemme tell ya, staying cool has been a challenge.

As a kid I’d have run through the sprinklers or mom and dad woulda hosed us kids down on a day like this. I even remember taking a bubble bath in one of those kiddie pools. Since I’m older now, and no one wants to see me running through the sprinklers in my bathing suit, I stay indoors under the fan with lots of cold water.

I’m still learning my new city so I have no idea where a pool is or anything like that. Maybe I should start a water fight with the kids.  That’s a great way to beat the heat. Oh and cold showers. Yes. Cold showers are the best when humidity is high.

How do you beat the heat?


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Hot Excerpt for a Hot Summer Day

It’s already 84 degrees in the shade at 10 am. I try not to complain because here in western NY we don’t get all that much hot weather. So…to go with the heat, how about a hot excerpt from one of my favorite (yes, don’t tell my other stories LOL) erotic romances, Silken Canvas.


She stared out at the skyline, the sun glinting off all the windows facing her. “The next session? More pearls?”
She was startled when his hand brushed her shoulder and pulled back on the single strand of pearls still hanging around her neck. “I have many more plans for you.” She froze as the beads tightened around her throat, keenly anticipating the heavy pressure. Then she felt the pull, heard a popping sound and the rope of beads broke apart.
Ashley whirled around and stared at the broken strand of beads in Brendan’s hand. She grabbed it and pulled it apart again. “Pop beads? These are pop beads?”
“Handy,” he said with a grin.
She laughed. “They look so real. I mean, I knew they weren’t real pearls, but I never would have guessed they were pop beads.”
“Time to drop the robe again.” He drew the fabric off her shoulders and she quickly untied the sash so he could strip it from her body.
“How many strands do you think it will take to cover your long, slender neck?” he asked. “Hold up your hair.” She raised her arms and lifted her hair high on her head. Would she ever get over the thrill of feeling exposed and vulnerable in this position?
Brendan ran a heated gaze over her before he wrapped a single strand of beads around her neck, pulling off several pearls at a time, until he closed it around her throat. It rested loosely against her collar bone. “Too loose. That won’t work,” he murmured. He shook his head and took off another bead or two before securing it again.
“That’s a little tight,” Ashley said. The pearls pressed against her throat, right below her larynx.
He cupped her cheek and caught her gaze. It took everything in her not to lean into him. “Does it hurt?” he asked.
“Not too much.”
“Then we’ll leave it for now. Let me know if it gets too painful.” He wrapped another strand tightly around her neck, riding above the first one. “I want to cover your throat from collar bone to jaw, stacking one strand of beads on top of another. They have to be tight enough to stay in place and not hang down on the one below it, understand?”
“Yeah, I get it.” She kept her hair off her neck and stood straight with her chin raised and tried not to think about the graze of his fingers along her jaw, across her throat. Or the brush of his jean-covered erection against her bottom. Or the promise of some delightful pain in this session.
The next row of beads pressed so tightly against her larynx that she could feel the pressure when she swallowed. Her expression must have changed because Brendan stopped with his hand on her throat. “Is it too much?”
“Not at all.” She swallowed again, then felt her face grow warm as memories overwhelmed her. “It’s not much different than the collars you used to put on me.” Or red ribbons. Or greedy snakes. “I…um…I always liked it when you put the collars on really tight.”
His eyes darkened. “I know.” He gently stroked her throat above the beads. “I’ve always known you liked a little pain with your pleasure. I was always happy to give it to you.”
They’d never really talked before about the way they’d often straddled the line between pain and pleasure. About her need for pain and his answering need to furnish it. It had just gradually become a part of their lives.
“I always liked the way you looked with a collar around your neck.” He ran the strand of pearls he was holding between his fingers. “Especially the ones with an ‘O’ ring in the front, so I could pull you to me when I wanted to do this.”
His lips brushed over hers before she had a chance to prepare for the onslaught of sensations, the burst of emotion. But almost before it started, the kiss was over. He stared at her, his jaw clenched. The strand of pearls in his hands broke.
“Sorry,” he said. It was a few more minutes before he finished collaring her. The multiple strands of beads forced her head high and she couldn’t comfortably lower her chin. “You can let your hair down now.” She dropped her arms and rolled her shoulders a couple times to stretch out the muscles.
Brendan took her hand and led her back over to the black velvet backdrop. “Stand here. I’m going to take some head shots.” He picked up his camera. “No talking now. I want a calm and content expression.” He lifted the camera, blocking his face. “I always loved the way you looked lying in our bed first thing in the morning, your hair spread out on the pillow, gazing at me with a small smile on your face. Yeah, like that.”
No fair to keep reminding her of those good times. She’d always loved the way he’d looked first thing in the morning too, propped up on his elbow, looking down on her with his own small smile.
Brendan took a few more pictures, then stopped and dropped the camera to his side. “That Stuart was a jerk. I can’t believe you hooked up with someone like him.” She opened her mouth to snap a quick retort, but he lifted his hand to stop her. “No talking.” He took another picture.
“I like the way your eyes are flashing now. There are a lot of people who’ll love that look—that flash of temper while you’re collared. They don’t want to dampen that spirit.” He approached her slowly. He was using that seductive tone of voice again and it was working. “How much more exciting to leash that strength, to harness that fire.” He took a few close-ups, his body so close she could hear him breathing. Didn’t he have a zoom on that camera?
As he took more pictures, his scent wound around her. She wanted to close her eyes and inhale him into her lungs, draw him into her pores. But she left her eyes open and saw when he slowly lowered the camera to his side and his gaze moved to her lips. She nervously darted her tongue out, wetting her lips. The memory of that hint of a kiss was fresh in her mind. The urge to lean into him was almost too much to resist.
Brendan gently cupped her face and ran his thumb softly along her bottom lip. He raised his gaze to meet hers and she shivered.
He stepped away. “Where’s your lipstick?”
She held back a sigh. She shouldn’t be disappointed he didn’t kiss her. Shouldn’t expect him to. Shouldn’t want him to. “In the pocket of the robe.”
He nodded. “Stay there.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him pick up the robe and fish the lipstick and a hair clip out of the pocket. He set down the camera on top of the soft robe and turned to her, lipstick tube in one hand, hair clip in the other. His gaze scorched her as it ran over her body. He took a deep breath before he walked over to her.
“Hold this,” he said and gave her the lipstick. Then he leaned forward and gathered her hair in his hands. She closed her eyes as his fingers caressed her scalp. His warm chest brushed against her breasts and it made her shiver again. He played with her hair for a moment, dropping the strands and pulling them up again, clipping and unclipping and then clipping them up again until he was obviously satisfied with the way her curls looked piled on top of her head.
“You look so damn sexy,” he said with the charming voice again. He was driving her crazy, never knowing which Brendan was going to be talking to her next. Would it be the driven artist, who saw her as nothing but a piece of canvas? Or the seductive, commanding man who’d made her fall in love with him years ago?
“Give me the lipstick.”
Her fingers trembled slightly as she handed him the tube. She wet her lips again as their eyes held. She had to stay strong. Resist temptation. It should be easy. Except that he was so close, she could catch his unique scent. She could feel the heat from his body and from his breath along her cheek. She swallowed hard and felt the press of the beads against her throat.
Ashley parted her lips slightly and he slowly covered them with the deep red color. She closed her eyes. The smooth lipstick felt almost as erotic as the sweep of a tongue. A soft sigh escaped before she could pull it back.
Brendan took a step back and nodded. “Keep your lips parted like that. I like the way that looks.” He shoved the tube of lipstick into the pocket of his jeans and bent over to pick up the camera. She swallowed hard again as she took in the snug way his jeans cupped his butt, the graceful way his long fingers cradled the camera, the smooth way his body moved as he straightened and turned to face her. She’d almost think the admiring expression on his face was for her, but she knew it was only for the image she made.
This was Brendan. Graceful and charming. Dedicated and talented. Creative and sensual. Ambitious and demanding. She knew he didn’t consider the obsessed artist and the seductive charmer as two separate parts of his personality. It was all part of who he was. And the reason he could never give her what she needed.
As long as she remembered that, she could resist him. She had to.

Enjoy the heat 🙂


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Writing is Solitary by Lucy Felthouse

Hi everyone,

This isn’t going to be a very sexy post, I’m afraid, but I’m sure lots of people will identify with it…


Writing is a very solitary thing. Something you have to just sit down and do, all by yourself. Yes, you may have other people involved in the research stages, and you may have beta readers once it’s finished, then editors, publishers, cover artists… the list goes on. But the specific act of getting words down on the page is a lonely task. Nobody can do it for you, and unless you’re super-talented (and if you are, I’m very jealous), you probably can’t talk to people while you’re doing it.

Which is why it’s nice to have writer buddies. Whether you know them in real life or just online, they’re a valuable bunch. There to encourage, to rant with, offload on, ask questions, sympathise, celebrate, commiserate… as much as friends, partners and families may try to be and do all of those things, it’s really only other writers that truly get it.

I’m very lucky in that I have writer buddies living locally, ones I see on a fairly regular basis, as well as ones I chat to pretty constantly online. Some of those I get to see occasionally, too. One such example being last weekend (not the one just gone, the one before!). A whole bunch of erotica and erotic romance writers and readers descended on Scarborough on the east coast of England for Smut by the Sea, a day of smut, workshop, socialising and fun. And fun it was! There was lots of chatting, giggling and all of the above supportive-types things going on. It’s so nice to be reminded you’re not alone as a crazy writer that’s battling away on something that’s bloody hard work, often for very little reward.

Now it’s all over, I’m already thinking about the next such get-together. Which is in November. I’m sure it will be upon us within the blink of an eye. So if you’re in the UK and can get to Manchester… it’d be great to see you there!


Happy Reading,

Lucy x


Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at:

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I’m giving you exhibitionism, voyeurism, MMF, BDSM, and more for $0.99!

My newest release is an adventure in fantasy, sexual submission, and exhibitionism with a side of MMF action thrown in for fun! Watching Sin is the first in a series of short stories and novella’s that will explore the kink occurring at a private fetish party. No kink is too perverted, and everyone embraces the YOLO attitude at the Lusty Fantasies parties, so come on it, check your baggage at the door, and join us…

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Watching Sin

A Fetish & Fantasy Short Story

By: Lori King

After fifteen years as a bland housewife, Alana is ready to shake up her life by fulfilling her darkest fantasy. She wants to be watched. Her exhibitionist streak is ready to break free, and she knows exactly whom she wants for her voyeur.

Doug would give his wife, Alana, the moon if she asked, so he’s more than willing to participate in a public threesome at a fetish party if it makes her kinky wishes come true. His business partner and best friend, Killian is the wild card in their plan.

A businessman first, and a trained Dominant second, Killian never gets tied down to one submissive. He’s a lover with commitment issues, but he doesn’t hesitate to help fulfill Doug and Alana’s fantasies. Once the fantasy is set in motion, the three players must decide if watching sin is enough…

Warning: Adult Themes-For Mature Audiences. Contains language and actions some may deem offensive. Sexually explicit content. M/M/F, graphic language, consensual BDSM, public sex, HFN. Short story Approx. 14,200 words.

It’s only $0.99 at…

Amazon       Barnes & Noble     Smashwords     ITunes     All Romance


Still not convinced? Read an excerpt….

Killian couldn’t believe his luck. For months he had rocked a hard-on for Alana and Doug. From the first time they attended one of his Lusty Fantasies parties, he’d always known they were destined to be his, and he was a patient man. He waited, and watched, easing them along the path he wanted them to walk until they were right here, right now.

With Doug sucking his wife’s tits a few feet in front of him, Killian tipped his glass, emptying the remaining half-inch of whiskey into his mouth and swallowing the burn. It was fortification for the control he was struggling to maintain.  Right now, he wanted nothing more than to call the two of them to his side and force them both to their knees in front of him. After dipping his finger into Alana’s juicy pussy at dinner, he knew she would be more than willing, but how would Doug react? Would he fly off the handle if Killian shoved his cock in his face and told him to suck it?

One way or another, tonight they were going to find out. He was tired of waiting, and watching Alana with her wide eyes, and Doug with his flushed cheeks, as they explored their exhibitionist sides. It was time to up the ante, and expose their submissive nature, too.

Doug had tossed Alana’s bra completely aside so he could play with her tits. The long line of her spine and the sexy curve of her ass beckoned Killian, but he held his place and directed Doug to spin her around again.

His first view of her luscious breasts made his mouth water and his balls draw up tight. She had melon-sized tits with fat nipples that would look amazing pierced. They were a dusky rose color, with areolas the size of a half-dollar. Doug’s hands cupped her and she arched her back, pushing her breasts out to Killian.

It took everything he had to resist the offering.

They were drawing the attention of some of the other guests, but Killian knew that no one would interrupt or distract the two putting on the show. If nothing else, this group was a safe haven for exploration. Everyone here had indulged in a fetish or fantasy at one time or another. A private invitation was necessary to gain access, and upon stepping through the front door, each guest was required to sign a waiver and confidentiality agreement before they were allowed to join the party.

He wanted to protect his friends, but he was also protecting himself. One day soon he would sit atop the Fortune 500 list, and he’d be damned if a scandal would keep him from it.

Alana moaned and drew his attention back to the show. Doug was on his knees, pulling her panties over her hips, exposing her slit. Killian was pleased to see her bald pussy was dripping with need, and he rubbed at his own cock, mimicking Doug’s touch on her body.

The man seemed to know his wife’s body well as he suckled and nipped at various points on her inner thighs and down to the back of her knees. Wearing just the garter belt and hose now, Alana looked magnificent. Her plump lips were parted, and her firm tits lifted and fell with the increase in her breathing. She was a goddess among commoners, standing proudly before them displaying the passion filling her soul.

Satisfaction ripped through Killian when Doug looked over his shoulder at him, and then paused as though waiting for direction. Meeting Doug’s dark gaze, Killian licked his lips just to see the other man’s reaction. As expected, Doug’s own tongue duplicated the action signaling his growing desire. His submissive nature was shining like an aura around him, and Killian jumped at the chance to take control.

“Taste her.”


Thanks for taking a peek inside this fantasy with me!

As always, Live, Laugh, & Love like today is your only chance!~Lori

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Read a Sexy Excerpt from Randi Alexander’s New Menage – Only $.99

Book Blurb of Double Her Destiny: In the final installment of the Double Seduction Series, Megan Shore marries her two men, Trey and Garret McGatlin. The secluded, romantic ceremony binds them together, but an unexpected and unwanted visitor brings with him ammunition to destroy their future together. When yet another shock threatens to change their world at the very same time, is their love strong enough to hold the three of them together forever and let them secure their destinies as a family? Or will it all fall apart for Megan, Garret, and Trey?

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Excerpt of Double Her Destiny: Trey wanted Megan’s hot slit riding his tongue, needed to feel her contractions as she came around his mouth. Rolling her onto her side, facing him, he lay opposite her, his head at the vee of her legs.

Her scent reached him, musky and sweet. A wicked burst of desire rolled through him, centering hot and pulsing in his groin. Tugging her thong away from her trimmed mound, he let his brother slide it the rest of the way off her. All he could do was stare and enjoy the heat racing through him.

Garret lifted her top leg, bent it, rested her foot on the bed, and smiled at him. Almost as if he were holding her beautiful body open for him.

Trey’s breath left him and he buried his face in her soft, sweet perfection.

She shuddered. “Oh, Trey.”

He’d laugh if he wasn’t so busy tasting her sweet juices, kissing her soft lips, brushing his fingers over her mound.

“Baby, you’re too smart for us country boys.” Garret grazed his hand over her backside. “Which is perfect. You’re perfect.” He leaned down and sucked the skin of her hip.

Trey pressed his tongue inside her, lapping and sucking her flesh.

Tiny cries came from her and he rolled his tongue deep into her opening, lashing and circling.

The snap of a lubricant bottle came from Garret’s side of the bed, and he pressed the tip of his finger to Megan’s anal opening.

“Uh huh. I like that.” Her words came out a whisper.

Trey fucked Megan with his tongue, watching his brother ease his middle finger into their wife’s sweet little rosebud. A shock of lust sent his cock jerking as he smelled the cherry flavored lube Garret used.

Megan froze then cried out, her back arching.

He recognized her signs. She’d be coming quickly. Trey pulled back, slowly dragging his tongue up her slit until he found her clit.

Garret lay on the bed, pulling Megan’s ass cheeks apart and plunging his face into her butt crack.

“Oh Garret, yes, please.” She reached down and grabbed a fistful of Trey’s hair. “Make me blast off, Trey. Suck it.”


Double Her Destiny is only $.99 at:



It’s the final story in the series, and you can’t imagine how hard it is for me to let Megan, Trey, and Garret go. But read my note at the end of the book for an exciting announcement!
“Rode Hard and Put Up Satisfied”
Facebook Fan Page
My Books – read the first chapters and find buy links:
Tall, Dark and Alpha10-author boxed set disappears June 30
All Hat No Cattle: A Red Hot and BOOM! Story only $.99
Redneck Romeo: A Red Hot Valentine Story only $.99
Chase and Seduction
Heart of Steele
Double Her Fantasy
Double Her Pleasure
Double Her Temptation
Cowboy 6 Pack only $.99
Cowboy Jackpot: Christmas
Cowboy Jackpot: Valentine’s Day
Cowboy Jackpot: St. Patrick’s Day
Her Cowboy Stud
Turn Up the Heat
Cowboy Bad Boys
Cowboy Lust
Cowboy Heat
Free Read! A Gentleman and a Cowboy is available at Amazon, Smashwords, All Romance Ebooks, Diesel Ebook Store, Barnes and Noble

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Visit the Boot Knockers Ranch

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“What is it, Hugh? Am I late for breakfast?”

She thought she’d read something in the pamphlet about a buffet breakfast, not a sit-down meal. The clients and cowboys would have long nights, and many wouldn’t even make it to breakfast.

When he didn’t reply, she poked her head out, holding the shower curtain self-consciously across her body even though he’d had his tongue buried in her last night.

He sucked in a deep breath, holding her gaze. “You’re using the hibiscus.”

Any coal of heat left inside her swirled down the drain. Hugh had been with enough women that he recognized the scents the women used. Again, it bothered Sibyll to be one in a long line.

Hugh had changed clothes after he’d left. He wore a pair of dark jeans, boots and a simple white T-shirt that clung to his muscles. She dropped her gaze from broad chest to yummy hips, to worn brown boots then slowly made her way back up to his face.

Today his black and blue eye was a little less bruised, but green tinged the outer corner. He looked delicious and menacing as hell. She almost popped her head back inside the shower.

With a lazy movement, he hitched his leg upward and tugged off one boot. When the other hit the floor, there was no more guessing his intention.

He was getting in with her.

She quivered and tried to roll up in the shower curtain. He’d seen her nude, sure, but she was standing. Her heavy breasts drooped and it was impossible to hide that little pooch of fat around her waist.

“Let me wash your back, baby.” His jeans hit the floor, star-shaped belt buckle clinking.

God, he wasn’t wearing…underwear.

She gulped as his glorious cock sprang free, rigid and proud. A trim path beelined from his navel to his pubic hair. More hair coated his strong thighs, dark and sparser.

All man. Damn, he was a beautiful specimen.

Sucking in hibiscus-scented air, she withdrew her head and fought rising emotions. Panic mingled with raw desire.

Hugh stepped into the shower behind her, his big body crowding her out of the spray. He hooked an arm around her middle and pulled her back against his body, letting her feel every muscular inch.

Particularly the inches nestled against the seam of her ass.

He nuzzled her throat, and without thinking she angled her head to provide better access. When she started to wiggle against him, he rumbled appreciation and sucked on her neck for a dizzying, knee-melting minute.

Running his hand over her ass, he said, “Oh yes. Your back needs washing.”

“I think…it’s higher.”






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His Safe Keeping by Tina Bass

Hello and thank you to everyone taking the time to read this. My name is Tina Bass. I live in small town Virginia, and I’ve lived here in the same small town for the majority of my adult life. I’m a normal, every-day, all-the-time mom. I have three beautiful children that are mostly grown and are trying to find their own place in life, ready to follow their own dreams. I also have extended family, including some honorary grandkids that I adore. Finally, I have a best friend of twenty plus years that lives close enough that I could walk to her house, but why in the world would I do that when I can drive there in less time.
Small town life isn’t for everyone, but it works for me. We’re situated pretty well, with some larger cities less than an hour away. Love that, because I love to go vintage shopping! Not to mention, clearance racks and sales and yard sales, oh my—one of my favorite things to do! Similar to in my books, I also enjoy climbing into the cab of a big ole’ pickup truck and going muddin.’
I came into writing in my forties, and I have been lucky that my very first book has been published and is now available to the public in e-book and paperback form. I have my publishing company, Beau Coup Publishing, to thank for that. I write romance, with a little twist, and ending in a happily-ever-after. That’s my go-to genre, so it’s what I write, and it makes me happy. My first book, His Safe Keeping, is only the first in the Safe Series. Amazon carries e-book and paperback, while Barnes and Noble only has the paperback version for right now. Here’s how to get it:
From Amazon:
From Barnes and Noble:
His Safe Keeping

His Safe Keeping

And, the Blurb:
Krista Avery moved to Mt. Eve, Virginia, enticed there by a research doctor. Trying to build a life for herself after an event in her past, she is a woman battling a blood disorder and memories she never dealt with. Returning home from the hospital after an experimental treatment, a dizzy spell forces her to pull over.
Lawson “Kade” McKaden is a State Trooper, returning home after a transport to a Federal Prison. After a stint in the Air Force and a satisfying career, he is leaving uniforms behind for the life of a rancher. A car on the side of the road calls to his sense of responsibility and the woman inside calls to his heart.
An escaped rapist/serial killer is hunting her. She was his first. Can they beat back the demons? Will Krista have to face her past alone, or is she Kade’s for… His Safe Keeping?

Excerpt #One:
Kade & Krista: “Fine. But, just so you know, if I fall off and break something, there will be no nakedness, until said something in no longer br—…” She began, and then squealed as big hands grabbed her by the waist and yanked her back off the horse, and when her feet touched the ground, she mumbled, “Broken.”
“Not goin’ to be no nakedness around here. Nakedness yeah, no nakedness, fuck no!” Kade stated. Excerpt #Two:
“It hurts,” she cried out as he stood there and did… nothing. No, not exactly nothing. He cursed every curse word he had ever heard as well as some he made up there on the spot. Krista. His Krista! His beautiful, strong, amazing Krista cried out in pain and he stood by and couldn’t do a fuckin’ thing to comfort her or to take that pain away from her. He couldn’t do one damn thing. He paced some more and cursed some more but in the end, there was not a single thing he could do. For the past hour, she had gone from dizziness, to nausea, and to pain. The last twenty minutes she had tried to be brave, she tried to be strong and she tried not to let him see. He knew what she was trying to do, for him.

Now, a little more about me.
I love books! I have read all kinds of books, but as I stated earlier, my go-to genre is romance. I love to read romance, and it doesn’t matter if it’s human, shifter, or vampire, but I prefer human. I read them all. But, to share something that may surprise a few…. I wasn’t a reader AT ALL. I read the bios of other authors, especially the ones that I’m an avid reader of, and the theme is usually that they have always been a reader from childhood. Not me! I didn’t like to read when I was in school, and later when I was in college, I still didn’t like to read. Reading to me has always been a chore…. Until a few years ago.
I mentioned earlier that my best friend lives in the same town. Well, she’s a reader. Every time I would go to her house, she had a book in her hands and book shelves that were spilling over, and I knew that she had read all of the books on those overflowing shelves. Didn’t interest me in the least. My children were small and I didn’t have the time or the inclination. But, my friend decided one Christmas, about 15 years ago, to give me copies of some of her favorite books. I thanked her (you know, the obligatory thank you), but they sat on my shelves that contained some old-school books and a lot of pictures of the kids. They sat there for years, gathering dust. Yep, years!
About four or five years after that Christmas, my kids had gotten up in age to the point where they would go outside for hours, playing with the neighborhood children. It was a Saturday, and I was trying to decide what to do with myself. I glanced through DVD’s that I had seen before, and music that I wasn’t in the mood for. Then my gaze fell on the books, so I chose one at random and sat down to try and read. Well, that was it!!! The story in the book caught me from the very beginning. It was futuristic and had a kick ass female and it was a love story and suspenseful and wow! It wasn’t the first in the series, but now I had to read them all. And, I didn’t want to read them out of order, but from the first written to the last! I haunted the book stores and Amazon and my local library until I was able to start at the beginning. I was hooked! I asked my friend why she hadn’t told me about this reading thing and she laughed and simply said, “I did.”
Yep, I blame my friend, hahahaha. And, I thank her (not obligatorily this time!)! After reading all of the series of those first books, I began to inhale everything I could get my hands on. I didn’t know yet what my genre was, and wouldn’t put any book down after beginning it, but would finish it, no matter what. After many books read and getting my first kindle, I realized that romance was my favorite. Especially romance that ended with that happily-ever-after like the Disney movies I watched with my kids. So, that’s it. That is how I got started reading that evolved into writing. It was also the same friend that encouraged me to write after I decided to jot down a couple of paragraphs of ideas and characters that had begun to scream in my head, realizing that they had always been there and I just hadn’t been listening. The rest brings me to now. I write as often as I can and the characters and stories in my head are always there. I live with them all day, every day, and I’m loving every minute of it!
Since my children are now “almost” grown, I have the time and the energy to pursue my passion. Writing. Yes, I did come into writing a little later than most authors, but it’s been a fabulous ride. If there are any of you reading this that have stories in your head or paintings that you see…. Do it. Write them down, paint, draw, but get them out. To quote the famous brand Nike, “Just Do It.” Take a chance, because you never know. I truly hope that I can give someone something interesting to do on a Saturday when you can’t find a good movie to watch and all your music has been listened to. Happy Reading!!
Want to find me?
Amazon Author’s page:


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The June Madness Has Begun! #erotica #romance @decadentpub @8britbabes

Hi everyone,

I apologise in advance if my posts are rather too promo-like this month, but I have three releases out, so things are going to be utterly insane! I promise I’ll do my best to get back to some good smutty fun next month.

So… the madness has begun. Book #1 for this month was released on the 1st June. Calendar Men: Mr June – The Other Brother is now on digital shelves.

The Other BrotherHere’s the blurb:

Photographer Melodie Carr moved to New York City to escape and make a fresh start. Her soldier fiancé was killed in a friendly-fire incident in Iraq, and she has been struggling to come to terms with it ever since. She still feels strongly about needless death and those left behind, so when she sees a call for photographs for a calendar of topless men, with profits going to the Hero Family Fund, she’s eager to help out. Unfortunately, she doesn’t know any men that fit the profile, so she gives up on the idea. That is, until Patrick Brogan—her late fiance’s brother—turns up in New York. Seeing him brings up all kinds of memories, but she’s determined to push them aside and be friends with Patrick. She also realizes he’d be perfect for the calendar. But can she persuade him to take part?

And an excerpt:


“Hi,” a male voice said. “Are you Melodie? Melodie Carr?”

“I am.” A caller looking for her? Had she ordered something and forgotten about it? “Who’s calling?”

“It’s Patrick,” the voice replied. “Patrick Brogan.”

“Patrick….” Speechless, she laid a hand on the wall to steady herself as the bottom dropped out of her world. Evidently, running to New York—albeit under the pretense of a good career move—hadn’t been enough. Her past still followed her, still tried to flood her with reminders of what she’d lost.


Damn, the man’s persistent. She never should have admitted her identity before asking his. She could have told him he’d gotten the wrong place and sent him away.

Not that it would have worked. There was only one place he could have gotten her address—her parents. And no way she’d get away with giving them a fake one. Plus, she did happen to be one of the few residents who had a name next to her button on the panel outside.

“Are you there?”

Damn her parents! Damn her late fiancé’s brother. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone?

A moment ago she’d been craving a familiar face, and now one waited to get in. She should let him come up—it wasn’t his fault his brother had died, after all. He’d been as devastated as her.

She pressed the button. “Come on up.”


I’m currently on a blog tour with this book, so if you want to read more in depth information about the book and enter an awesome giveaway, be sure to check out the dates here.

Grab your copy of the book here:

Add it to your Goodreads shelves here:

Happy Reading!

Lucy x


Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at:

Categories: 69 Shade Of Smut | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Edits, Edits and More Edits

Oh my when it rains it pours. I received edits for Love’s Submission last week and have only worked my way through the first chapter and a half. Then last night I received edits for Sex, Lies and Joysticks. I glanced over the first chapter and the edits weren’t too bad, but there are several more chapters I haven’t looked at yet.

Don’t get me wrong, I actually like edits because of the end result. A better book. The process not so much. As a writer I’ve spent so much time crafting certain scenes and pouring my heart into it that when an editors asks for more, deeper point of view to give the story more emotion or perspective or whatever it’s lacking at the moment, it’s a challenge. If that editor asks to cut the scene *gasp sob* my whole world comes crashing down and it’s a valid reason and will make the story stronger, well I go ahead and hit that delete button.

Editing is always about digging deeper about finding just that little bit more that will allow readers to better connect with the characters. As I go through this first round of edits for Love’s Submission and  Sex, Lies and Joysticks I hope to add greater depth to them. Even if you’ve never experienced their exact situation maybe the emotions they go through will knit them closer in your heart.

Until next time, Indulge Your Inner Desires

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What if the only way to get someone out of your house is murder?

Welcome back to Cottonmouth! Woohoo, a new release! Can’t Forget You, Cottonmouth Book 3!Can't Forget You photo cantforgetyou2_3003_zpsc927c0cb.jpg

I hope readers are as happy to return to Cottonmouth as I am! You’ll meet Nick and Bobbie from She’s Gotta Be Mine Book 1, and catch up with Brax and Simone from Fool’s Gold Book 2! I loved coming back to Cottonmouth after so long! But just to keep things interesting, I’ve created a whole new set of characters to introduce readers to as well. Here’s a blurb to whet your appetite!

There’s something very special about the house Maggie grew up in. It’s sort of…alive. With a mind of its own.

And it has plans for the people living there now.

All Maggie Halliday has left after the divorce is the family dog and the home her grandmother left to her when she passed away two months ago. Maggie’s got no other choice but to run back to her hometown of Cottonmouth, California, only to discover her high school sweetheart, Cooper Trubek, is living in the house, along with four other boarders for whom Maggie is now responsible. And according to Nana’s will, Maggie can’t kick any of them out.

Unless one of them commits murder.

Still grieving for her grandmother and trying fix up the house that seems to be falling down around her, Maggie’s got more trouble than she can handle. Then things go from bad to worse when Samson the dog starts digging in the basement…

Samson so amused me. I loved writing in his point of view. I think my Star must have been a little bit like Samson, even though they look entirely different. I also fell in love with Principal Owen Sterling, and I think readers might find his story coming sometime in the future, too!

Here’s what The Book Sage had to say about Can’t Forget You!

“I’m used to Jennifer’s erotica (writing as Jasmine Haynes), which I thoroughly enjoy. This one is a humorous romantic mystery, with a few interesting elements thrown in. Do you want to know what a dog is thinking? How about a house that fixes itself and dispenses pages of a journal on an “as needed” basis? Or a romance that is strictly NOT erotic? Can’t Forget You has all of these things. Here’s something you need to know about Jennifer Skully/Jasmine Haynes. She can really write – no matter which genre she chooses.”

You’ll find great reading recommendations over at The Book Sage. I’ve loved every one of the books he’s recommended to me so be sure to check out his blog.

So I have to tell you about a special deal! She’s Gotta Be Mine will be part of a new romance anthology called Love is a Mystery: Six Novels of Love, Laughter, and Lawbreaking. A little mystery, a lot of laughs, and whole lot of romance! The bundle will only be available for 90 days, and we’re offering it for only .99. That’s 1400 pages of Kindle reading! So if you haven’t read She’s Gotta Be Mine yet, here’s the way to do it, plus you’ll get 5 other novels! Here’s a line-up of the fabulous authors. photo LoveIsAMysteryBundle_1400px2_zpse79b2c86.jpg

In FROSTED SHADOW by Nancy Warren, there’s nothing pretty about murder. When a cosmetics sales rep is murdered at the annual convention, only Toni Diamond, a sleuth who understands how to make appearances deceiving, can see into the mind of this killer.

In SHE’S GOTTA BE MINE by Jennifer Skully, what better way to show her ex what he’s missing in the made-over Bobbie Jones than taking up with the local bad boy—who’s also reputed to be a serial killer. That is, until a real murder rocks the little town of Cottonmouth.

In THE HONEYMOON COTTAGE by Barbara Cool Lee, Camilla Stewart finds too late that escaping her past won’t be easy. Because local sheriff’s captain Ryan Knight realizes that Camilla and her son Oliver may be the only people alive who can identify a serial killer… and they are next on his hit list.

In STEAMED by Holly Jacobs, cleaning is murder on the manicure. Quincy Mac is a maid in LA—a maid who’s accidentally cleaned a murder scene. Now she’s a suspect with only one option—find the real murderer before she ends up in jail.

THE ZEN MAN by Colleen Collins is a 21st-century Nick and Nora tale. It’s just another ho-hum Christmas party until a murder lands private eye Rick Levine in the slammer on first-degree murder charges. Released on bond, Rick and his girlfriend Laura have 30 days to find the real killer.

In CAUGHT YOU LOOKING by Shelley Adina, when it comes to love and crime, who’s catching whom? Hot on the trail of a technology thief, PI Duncan Moore thinks he’s found him, but he needs proof. So he asks Mallory Baines if he can do surveillance from her upstairs bedroom—which would be great except her family thinks he’s moved in and wedding bells are imminent!

You can find Love is a Mystery at all these retailers. And remember, it’s only out there for 90 days! Kindle Kindle UK Nook Nook UK iBookstore iBookstore AU iBookstore UK Kobo

Okay, one more thing! Then I’ll give you the first chapter of Can’t Forget You!

Now you can Somebody’s Lover, Somebody’s Ex, and Somebody’s Wife together in one bundle! The Jackson Brothers 3-book Bundle is available everywhere: Kindle Kindle UK iBookstoreNookKobo All Romance CoffeeTime
 photo jacksonbrothers_3003_zps3146b0f2.jpg


And now, here’s Chapter One!

Can’t Forget You

Cottonmouth Series, Book 3

Copyright 2014 Jennifer Skully

Chapter One

Her ex-husband got the new wife, the new baby, the house, the SUV, and their daughter Evie’s undying devotion.

Maggie Halliday got the dog.

“You’re such a good dog. What would I have done without you?” she crooned as she stroked Samson’s snout. Along with his snub pit bull face, stout bulldog body, and Australian shepherd markings, Samson had the sweetest of natures.

Maggie rolled down the windows to let the October breeze waft through the old minivan’s interior. At noon, the air was warm, but it carried the promise of a cooler season. She’d parked beneath a massive oak along a tree-lined lane on the outskirts of Cottonmouth, the hometown she hadn’t visited in twenty years. Less than three hours north of San Francisco, Cottonmouth was a lifetime away.

Across Garden Street sat the weathered Victorian house of her childhood. White shutters had aged to gray, and the roof was minus some shingles, like a faded old lady caught without her dentures. Crab grass, weeds, and gophers had long since choked the lush lawn out of existence. To the left of the front steps, the porch sagged, the support column sinking beneath the overhang’s weight. Its chains broken, the porch swing lay forlorn beneath the dining room window. The paint was peeling, and the dormer windows in the third-floor attic looked as if they’d been sealed shut with time and rot.

A man appeared around the corner of the house, a tool belt at his waist, a stack of two-by-fours balanced on his shoulder. She hadn’t ogled anyone in more years than she could count, but there was something about him. The T-shirt molded to his chest and the jeans hugging his thighs started a flutter low in her belly.

Dumping the wood on the scrubby earth, he went down on one knee to shove what looked like a car jack under the edge of the porch. As he cranked the handle, the sagging support column rose, lifting the overhang. When it was level, he nestled a wooden square between the base of the column and the concrete it rested on. The repair was a stop-gap measure in a slow decline that brought an ache to Maggie’s heart. The house was all she had left of her grandmother.

A black Lexus purred to a stop on the gravel shoulder behind her. Maggie waited for the lawyer to get out of his car. Stacked in the back of the minivan, the detritus of her life obscured most of the view out the back window. Boxes and suitcases filled with clothing, photos, kitchen gadgets, an ancient computer, and other odds and ends were all she’d claimed from her marriage.

The door of the Lexus banged shut. Samson chuffed like a steam engine. He didn’t like loud noises, hated to be yelled at, and was afraid of strangers—at least for the first fifteen minutes. After sniffing feet, pant legs, and various body parts, be they private or otherwise, he was friends for life.

Except for Ray, Maggie’s ex-husband. Samson had cowered before Ray from the moment she and Evie brought the pound dog home. Ray hadn’t even yelled at him yet. Ray Halliday wasn’t an animal person. He said they were too hard to control. Then again, Ray wasn’t a people person either. They were also too hard to control.

Maggie scratched the dog’s ear. “Be a good boy,” she crooned, then climbed out of the van.

Elton Cook was tall, gaunt, and pasty-faced. He’d have made a perfect undertaker. Or a cadaver. Instead, he’d been her grandmother’s lawyer, looking as ancient when Maggie was a child as he did now.

An oak branch scratched the top of his gray hair as he stared at the crabbed lawn, the missing shingles, the sagging porch, and the handyman shoring it up.

“This isn’t possible.” He turned to Maggie, eyes deep and dark in his skeletal face. “Right?”

She guessed what he was driving at. “You didn’t hire the handyman?”

Maggie certainly hadn’t. Her grandmother had died two month ago, leaving Maggie the house and the boarders living inside it. She blinked away the pain at the renewed sense of loss. Officially divorced for six months, a week ago Maggie lacked even a home—the dingy apartment she’d been living in didn’t count. Ray had bought her out of the house, but with the second and third mortgages they’d taken out for remodeling and Evie’s college fund, there hadn’t been much equity to distribute. The trust fund her grandmother had left for maintenance wasn’t going to cover all this. And though she’d gotten money out of the divorce settlement, it wouldn’t last long if she had to spend it on house repairs.

“It didn’t need a handyman a month ago.” Elton Cook whispered, as if the house itself might overhear and fall down as a consequence.

In Maggie’s estimation, it had needed a handyman for a long time. Turning it into a boardinghouse obviously hadn’t earned enough for all the necessary repairs.

“I’m sure my grandmother did the best she could.” A hole opened wide in Maggie’s chest as she thought of all the lost years she’d let build between her grandmother and herself.

“No.” Elton flapped bony fingers. “You don’t understand. She had it painted last year. Then there was the new septic installed nine months ago, and she sodded the entire lawn afterward. There wasn’t a weed in sight when I was out here in the middle of August.” A month and a half ago, two weeks after her grandmother passed on August first.

The handyman hammered at the base of the column, the afternoon sun shining down on his hair in an odd halo effect. In the van, Samson whined. He needed a potty break.

Elton Cook stuck his hand out, straight-armed, a key ring jangling in his fingers even as he eased closer to his Lexus. “I have to go.”

Maggie made a side shuffle to close the distance between them. “You could come in.”

“There isn’t any need.” Mr. Cook took a giant spread-eagled step in the opposite direction.

“Shouldn’t you at least introduce me to the tenants?”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine on your own.” He jingled the keys when she didn’t take them.

“I don’t even remember their names.”

“Hopefully they do.”

Maggie grabbed her grandmother’s keys before he dropped them. Mr. Cook skipped sideways the rest of the way to his car as if he were afraid to turn his back on the house. It might be time to let his son take over the law firm.

“Don’t forget,” he called. “You can’t put them out unless they don’t pay rent or they get arrested and accused of murder.”

“Can’t forget that,” she muttered to the cloud dust he left behind as he peeled out. She’d inherited her grandmother’s house as well as the boarders living there. They could miss six monthly rental payments before she could kick anyone out. Unless they tried to kill her first. She’d have to read the will again; had it said get arrested and accused of murder or was that an either/or?

She tipped her head and gazed across the street. The house and its tenants might actually be worth it if she got the handyman, too.

She was forty, divorced, and it was high time she had some fun, right? Opening the van’s door, she snapped her fingers. Samson hit the ground running. He squatted on the edge of her new yard and christened the dirt for what seemed like a full minute as Maggie crossed the road. Despite being male, Samson was a squatter, not a leg-lifter. Ray said that made him a wuss. Maggie thought it demonstrated he was an individualist.

“Guess your dog didn’t see the sign on the lawn?” The handyman’s voice was deep, the kind of voice you felt vibrating on the inside.

Maggie stared at the crab grass, the weeds, the gopher holes, and the dirt. “We didn’t notice a lawn,” she answered, perfectly serious, not a funny-bone in her body.

He pointed to the marker, a picture of a dog squatting, the universal red not circle over its behind.

“Ah, that’s it. He doesn’t read sign language.”

His lips moved, but he didn’t crack a smile, and Maggie resisted pointing out that it was her nonexistent lawn. After all, he’d fixed the column so the porch no longer sagged. For that, he deserved a thank you. She shaded her eyes from the sun pouring over the roof, opened her mouth to offer it…

And looked up into the face of the man she should have married instead of Ray.

* * * * *

It took Maggie forever to find her voice over the crack in it. “What are you doing here?”

He crossed his arms, staring down at her with something that resembled a smile, but with the sun in her eyes, it could also have been a grimace. “A whole lot of nothing, Maggie.”

God. He recognized her.

Cooper Trubek had been her high school sweetheart. Had been, was, is. It depended on your definition of the word is. He still existed, she still existed, and she’d loved him with all her heart. So Cooper Trubek is her high school sweetheart might be the right way to say it. Despite the intervening twenty-two years, the girl she’d once been had never fallen out of love with the boy. That girl still remembered every precious moment with Cooper from sophomore to senior year.

She could have said all that but, thankfully, what came out was “Samson did number one.”

Cooper glanced at Samson, who sat on his haunches, giving him the mother of all stares.

Up close, Cooper’s dark brown hair was shot through with silver strands, and fine lines etched his eyes. The years had made him better, seasoned, overwhelmingly male, instead of a mere boy of eighteen. Tall, over six feet, he’d perfected a stone-faced demeanor she found daunting. In high school, he’d laughed a lot. Back then, she hadn’t hurt him yet.

His gaze tracked her face, her hair, her eyes, her lips, then down to the tight, low-waisted jeans and snug T-shirt. She wasn’t an eighteen-year-old girl either, and his gaze made her self-conscious, as if he thought she was trying to deny her age. It was just that she’d done all her shopping with Evie who’d always said that Maggie shouldn’t dress like an old lady.

“I live here,” he finally said, without inflection.

Deciding the man wasn’t a threat, Samson rose to his four paws, trotted to Cooper’s side, and sniffed his work boots, then his pant legs. He was heading north when Cooper stuck his hand in the way.

It took that long for Maggie to realize Cooper had answered her original question. “You’re one of Nana’s boarders?”

He nodded. This time, the smile made it to his eyes. “I’m one of your boarders.” Samson circled, and Cooper shoved him away before he sniffed the backside. “I’ve got the attic.”

When Maggie lived in the house, the attic was dusty and dark, one long room with a sloped ceiling, boiling in summer and freezing in winter. How could a person live in the attic? Elton Cook told her Nana had remodeled to make more space for boarders, turning the first-floor rumpus room into a bedroom and adding a shower to the half-bath by the stairs. There were now three full bathrooms. But Mr. Cook hadn’t mentioned the attic.

Maggie snapped her fingers, and Samson slumped in the dirt, laying his snout on his paws. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t expect you to”—his voice roughened, the first sign of emotion slipping—“since Cecelia never called you in the entire five years I’ve been here.”

And not for twelve years before that. Did Cooper think Maggie had deserted Nana the way she’d deserted him?

“I should have called her,” she admitted, the guilt like a lump of raw cookie dough in her stomach, the kind of thing you thought you could handle until it expanded. How much had her grandmother told Cooper about Ray and Evie? Short for Evangeline. Long ago she’d chosen the name for the little girl she and Cooper would one day have. She’d dreamed so many things that had never come to pass.

If she wasn’t careful, she’d become maudlin, something she’d tried hard not to do since the divorce. “What happened to the lawn?” And the swing, the porch, the paint? “Mr. Cook said the grass was just replaced.”

Cooper stared at the house, the brown of his eyes deepening. “It got sad.”

“The house got sad?”

“When Cecelia died.” He swept an arm across the expanse of dirt, and Maggie realized the elusive sentiment in his gaze was grief. He’d had a soft spot for Nana, bringing her a treat when he arrived, meringues or flowers or a cookbook. And he’d left her with a goodnight kiss on the cheek. “First week,” he said, “the grass died, second week the weeds and gophers took over.”

Her grandmother’s house had always been…special. The scents of baking cookies and fried chicken lingered long after the kitchen should have aired out. If Maggie wanted a breeze on a summer’s night, she’d find a window open she was sure she’d closed. When she climbed out her second-floor window to meet the most beautiful boy in the world, the trellis suddenly reached right up to her sill. As if the house shared her feelings for Cooper. When she’d let him move to L.A. on his own following high school, the trellis vines grew thorns.

Over the years she’d been absent, Maggie decided she’d imagined all the strange things about the house.

“Maybe the septic’s failing again.” It could have contaminated the dirt and killed the grass.

Cooper went on. “Then the swing fell down, the porch sagged, the paint flaked, and the shingles fell off.” He kicked up one side of his mouth. “I don’t think that’s the septic.”

Her grandmother had loved the swing on a warm night, swaying, sipping homemade lemonade as they discussed the day. The torment when Timmy Tipton sent Maggie a love note only to have their fourth grade teacher intercept it and read it aloud. The tragic loss of Jimmy Howell when he was killed in the sixth grade as he crossed the big highway east of town. Susan Foster getting pregnant at fifteen. What Maggie should wear to the junior prom with Cooper.

All the memories, the years, the times she thought of calling Nana but never did. All the regrets and guilt. “I thought you were some big screenwriter in Hollywood,” she said, a catch in her voice.

His head bent to Samson, Cooper merely raised his eyes to meet his gaze. “You know I never sold a screenplay.”

She hadn’t known. For years, she’d searched movie credits for his name. When Cooper left to make his Hollywood dreams come true, she was supposed to go with him. Fear got the better of her, and she’d allowed him to board that train alone, deserting him with nothing but a note she’d sent via a friend. At eighteen, it had seemed the best way to let him down. Today, she saw it for the coward’s way out that it was.

After that there was college, Ray, then Evie. And now this, back at the house she’d started in as if she were George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life. What would her life have been like if she hadn’t thrown away Cooper’s love?

“I’m sorry you didn’t make a movie.” What else could she say? She’d chosen security over a frighteningly uncertain future with Cooper. Two years later, when she’d gotten pregnant, Ray had represented her safety net. She’d chosen what she thought was security, even against her grandmother’s wishes and advice.

She’d lost it all when Ray no longer had a use for her. Even Evie didn’t need her after she went off to college.

She sounded disgustingly poor-poor-pitiful-me, but she’d made her own choices. “Thanks for fixing the porch.”

“Cecelia used to give me money off the rent for doing her odd jobs.” He turned, bounded up the porch steps, then threw over his shoulder, “I don’t expect the same thing from you.”

The message, she assumed, was that he didn’t want anything from her. He disappeared into the bowels of her grandmother’s house, the screen door banging shut behind him. One of the hinges dropped off, the screws pinging on the porch.

She’d deserted him, hurt him, hadn’t talked to him, or written him. She’d owed him more than a note. Yet she’d walked away and never looked back. Just as Ray had done to her over a year ago, the day after they’d settled Evie in her first-year college dorm room in San Luis Obispo. So Maggie knew how Cooper felt.

She shoved the house keys in her jeans pocket, snapped her fingers, and whistled. People didn’t like being snapped at, but to dogs, it was a sound, a command, and if they obeyed, they knew they’d get a treat. Samson followed her back across the lane to the minivan, and she carried the first of her boxes into her grandmother’s house. Her house now.

They say you can’t go home again; Maggie had no choice but to try.

Hope you enjoyed Chapter one of Can’t Forget You! Here’s where you can find the ebook! Kindle Kindle UK Nook Nook UK iBookstore iBookstore AU iBookstore UK Kobo Smashwords All Romance CoffeeTime

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