[Yum! Sweet and spicy f/f erotica from Lucy Felthouse! ~Lisabet]
Blurb
Six
sexy Sapphic tales from the pen of popular lesbian erotica author,
Lucy Felthouse.
Christmas
cheer with colleagues, a driving disaster turned good, hot older
women, girls in uniform, gorgeous gardeners and naughty fun in a
changing cubicle… this collection contains a variety of erotic
tales sure to tickle your fancy.
Available
to
buy
exclusively
from
Amazon,
and
to
read
as
part
of
the
Kindle
Unlimited
programme:
Add
to
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Excerpt
She
was now mere inches away, but the thickness of the bushes meant she
could still only see the boots and now a bit more of the green
trousers. Stepping onto the mud, she crouched down beside the feet,
carefully pushing the foliage aside so she could see what the hell
was going on, and figure out what she was going to do about it.
The
view opened up, and Verity, far from seeing a helpless person lying
on the soil, was presented with a green-clad arse reversing hurriedly
in her direction!
“Hey!”
she said, letting go of the branches and shifting back so abruptly
she ended up on her own arse on the grass. “Be careful! Are you all
right?”
As
the body continued emerging, Verity slowly came to realise her
mistake. Dirt-covered trousers, a filthy black waterproof coat,
gloved hands, and a head topped with a floppy hat were soon visible.
Slim white cables trailing from each ear and disappearing into the
collar of the coat explained why she hadn’t been heard calling out,
or received a response.
This
woman hadn’t hurt herself. She was a fucking gardener!
Frozen
in her uncomfortable position, Verity wanted the ground to open up
and swallow her. Perhaps as revenge for her landing on it so hard.
But she had no such luck. Instead, she heard, “What on earth are
you doing down there? Are you all right?”
Struck
dumb, Verity nodded and took the now glove-free hand that was offered
to her, allowing the other woman to pull her up off the grass. “I—I’m
fine,” she finally forced out, breaking the brief eye contact and
making a show of brushing herself down, though it was probably only
her bottom that was dirty. Her cheeks blazed, and she took a step
back, hoping to beat a hasty retreat.
“Well,
I’m glad. But it still doesn’t explain what you were doing down
there.” The ear buds now hung down the woman’s front, and she was
apparently poised, awaiting a reply.
Verity
shook her head. “I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”
Narrowing
her eyes, the gardener said, “Try me.”
Christ.
Just to add insult to injury, it seemed she was now suspected of some
kind of wrongdoing, too! “I—I was over there,” she pointed to
where she’d come from, “and I saw your wellies poking out from
the bushes. I panicked because I thought someone had fallen and hurt
themselves. I came over to try and help. I did call out to you, to
see if you were all right. But all I could see was the boots and a
little bit of your trousers. I had no idea what was going on. Much
less that you were the bloody gardener and remained oblivious to what
I was up to because you had headphones in! I crouched down and pushed
the bushes aside so I could see you better, and the next thing I know
you’re shuffling back towards me. I shifted out of the way and
ended up tumbling over on my bum.”
It
seemed her story was too amusing to be anything but true, because the
gardener grinned widely, then clapped a hand over her mouth
momentarily. “I’m so sorry,” she then said, “I didn’t hear
you, honestly. But I guess I can see why you thought that. Thank you
so much for coming to check on me, but it really wasn’t necessary.
All I was doing was fighting with a particularly vicious weed.” She
pointed down to an uprooted plant at her feet, then widened her eyes.
“Are you all right? You didn’t hurt yourself, did
you?”
Twisting
to try and look at her bottom, Verity brushed again at the seat of
her jeans. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you. Just a bit of muck and
grass stains, I think. Nothing that won’t come out in the washing
machine.”
“Oh,
good. I’m glad. I feel bad enough as it is without thinking you’ve
hurt yourself or ruined your clothes, too.”
“No,
I’m good. And I’m glad you’re okay, too.”
Silence
hung between them for a few moments. Then Verity took another step
back. “Right, well, I’d better get going, anyway. Nice to meet
you.” She turned to go, but the other woman’s voice stopped her
in her tracks.
“Hey,
wait. No need to rush off. I’m just about to go on my tea break.
Want to join me? Perhaps a brew will make up for it?” Her green
eyes—apt, for a gardener, Verity thought—sparkled with humour and
intelligence, and for the first time, Verity realised that,
underneath the grubby gardening gear and large hat was a very
attractive woman.
Still,
an excuse was on the tip of her tongue—she had come here to be
alone, after all—but fate intervened. Or the British weather did,
anyway. A handful of fat raindrops fell onto her, followed by a few
more. Then, the heavens truly opened.
Author
Bio
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
http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk.
Join
her
on
Facebook
and
Twitter,
and
subscribe
to
her
newsletter
at:
http://eepurl.com/gMQb9
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