Now available for pre-order! Cherry Pie and Mistletoe - #MatureRomance #HolidayRomance #SeniorSex

Happy Sunday! I hope your holiday season so far has been full of love, peace and joy.

To help get you in the mood for Christmas, I’ve written a brand new holiday erotic romance story. Cherry Pie and Mistletoe will release next Friday, December 13^th. You can order your copy from Smashwords now (and hopefully from Amazon within the next day or so!)

Here’s the blurb. I guarantee this story will warm your heart.

Cherry Pie and Mistletoe: A Mature Holiday Romance

Some Christmas traditions improve with age.

At ten thirty on a stormy Christmas Eve, I really didn’t expect any business, but the sign for our diner out on the highway reads “open until midnight”, and I’m a woman of my word. Good thing I didn’t close; the half-frozen long haul trucker who wandered in really needed some hot coffee, not to mention a slice of my luscious cherry pie.

Something about the grizzled, bear-like man with the chocolate-brown eyes and ready laugh spun me back to my scandalous, sensual younger days. I hadn’t wanted anyone in years, but I wanted Dave Driver. Was I brave enough to act on my desire? And would he flee, screaming, from the amorous attentions of a white-haired little old lady?

Preorder from Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/993385

Other outlets available soon!

Exclusive Excerpt

I tried without success to concentrate on the exquisite taste of the dessert in front of me, as Dave seemed to be doing. Instead, I was intensely aware of how close he was—and how paradoxically attractive. I watched his sensual mouth opening and closing around forkfuls of pie, the flick of his tongue over his lips as he gathered stray crumbs, the shift in his throat as he swallowed a mouthful of coffee.

He drained his coffee cup. He’d nearly finished. When he was done, he’d disappear into the winter night. He had a long way to travel before morning. His job probably depended on providing a reliable delivery schedule.

I was just a stop along the way.

I cleared my throat. “It must be hard being away from your family on Christmas,” I commented.

He glanced up from his almost empty plate. “Don’t have any family to speak of,” he said. “Just a son, living near Seattle. And we’ve never been close.”

“What about your wife?” There, I’d asked.

His face clouded. “Ellen’s been gone for seven years already.”

“Oh—I’m so sorry!” Now I felt guilty. I should have kept my mouth shut.

Dave shrugged. “That’s okay. She was sick for quite a while. Now I guess she’s at peace. And I’ve moved on. Sold the farm, bought the truck—life’s about change, Marnie. Nothing lasts forever.”

I thought about my own life, full of adventure by most people’s standards. The years in Paris, in the Caribbean, in Bangkok and in Greece, making art and making love. The parties, and the epiphanies. Yet here I was, back where I started.

“Sometimes I think it’s all cycles,” I said. “I spent four decades traveling the world, living in all sort of exotic places. Then my dad became ill and couldn’t handle the diner, so I came home—to the only real home I’ve ever had.”

“The diner’s yours?” Dave chuckled. “And here I thought you were just an abused employee, forced to work on the holiday!”

“No, I gave Hank and Jeannie—the cook and the waitress—the night off. Figured they’ve got families, and I—well, anyway, the Algonquin’s mine now, though I don’t know how much longer I can keep it going. Mom and Dad opened the place before I was born, when Route 6 was a major artery. Now, with the Interstate…”

Tears gathered in my eyes. Damn, I thought. I do not want this guy’s sympathy.

“People’re always gonna need a place to get a cup of coffee.” His voice was so quiet I could hear the sleet hissing against the window-glass. “And you should advertise this pie! Get it up on Facebook, or TripAdvisor, or whatever.”

“Probably should.” I gathered our plates, empty but for a few crimson smears, and dumped them in the sink. I’d wash up after he left. “But I’m not sure I’ve got the energy, to be honest.”

He nodded. “Yeah, at our age, we have to choose the things that matter…” He trailed off into silence. I wondered what—or who—occupied his thoughts.

Elbows on the counter, I shifted closer, losing myself again in his warm, gold-flecked gaze. Now is what matters, I wanted to tell him. We might never have another chance.

Of course, I kept my mouth shut. I wasn’t as bold as I used to be.

Coming December 13^th!