Wednesday, March 31, 2021

Whether you’re a Kardashian or a beast, you can’t survive without friends - #SmallTownRomance #DamagedHeroine #BroodingHero @JWilck

A Reckless Heart cover

By Jennifer Wilck (Guest Blogger)

Thank you so much to Lisabet for hosting me today!

In my latest book, A Reckless Heart, the theme of friendship plays a huge role in both of my characters’ lives. Simon, the hero of the book, is a world-renowned landscape architect, with more money than he knows what to do with, but he became a recluse after a fire destroyed his family and scarred his face and body. If you asked him, he’d tell you he neither has friends nor wants them. However, two people in his life refuse to give up on him—Claire and Jed, Simon’s college friends and business associates.

Claire has grown up with Simon and is one of the few people who didn’t abandon him after his accident, when he made it clear he wanted to disappear. Married now, with a busy life of her own, she’s constantly poking Simon via text or email, teasing him about his new tenant, dropping off books he requests from the library, and checking in on him. She’s a catalyst that helps him get involved with the heroine of the story.

Jed is the caretaker and therapist at the botanical garden where Simon received therapy after his accident, and where he goes for inspiration. Therapy gardens meet the spiritual, physical, and psychological needs of their patients, and Simon’s work at the garden helped improve his fine motor skills after his hands were burned, as well as his psychological scars. Additionally, Jed suffers from a form of dwarfism, yet he doesn’t isolate himself from others, and serves as a role model and confidant to Simon.

Simon’s college friends are all at the pinnacle of their careers, with large amounts of money, and they formed an investment group where they pool their extra money and use it for philanthropic projects. Through frequent conference calls, the four men keep in touch with each other. Their investments allow them each to see beyond their own lives and branch out and help others.

Little by little, these interactions help Simon come out of his shell. But it isn’t until he meets Meg, the heroine of the story, that he is fully drawn from the shadows.

Meg’s friends also play an integral role in her life, but for the completely opposite reason. She is a former publicist to society’s elite. The pseudo-celebrities who want to see and be seen. It’s her friendship with these people that gave her purpose, until that friendship was tested. Meg took the blame, and her friends disappeared. Unlike Simon, whose friends provide the unwavering support he needs (even when he doesn’t recognize it), Meg’s friends are friends in name only. When she can no longer give them what they crave—publicity—they disappear. Her move to Gull’s Point, Maine, not only gives her the chance to start over, but it throws people into her path who are willing to look at who she is beneath the surface and who value her for herself, rather than for what she can provide.

When Meg and Simon meet, it takes both of them time to trust each other and develop a friendship first, before they move further into a relationship. But it’s that friendship that establishes a strong foundation, enabling them to ultimately withstand the forces that try to pull them apart.

Interested? Here’s the blurb.

Meg Thurgood, former society girl, took the blame for her friend and paid a steep price. Now all she wants is solitude and a chance to rebuild her life. She thinks she's found that in an isolated house she rents from a mysterious stranger.

Simon McAlter has hidden in his house on the coast of Maine since a fire left him scarred. A successful landscape architect who conducts his business and teaches his classes remotely, he's lost his inspiration and is trying to pretend he's not lonely. 

Simon's new neighbor is more than he bargained for. When he learns Meg's secret, will he retreat into the shadows or will he learn to see past the surface and trust in Meg's love? 

And here’s an excerpt to whet your appetite.

Nervous laughter bubbled in her chest. They’d been close before and held hands. Granted, he’d covered hers on the ladder, but still. It wasn’t the first time they touched. Why was this different? She remembered the sensations when he’d covered her hand on the roof— warmth and roughness and safety. And she wanted it. She bumped her hand against his, on purpose, to feel his skin. It wasn’t smooth like hers. Its texture, unique to him, fascinated her. A moment later, he rubbed his arm against her.

Was it accidental, too? She snuck a glance at his profile. Although his hair blocked most of his face, she’d swear when the wind blew it, a ghost of a smile hovered, like they shared a private joke. Her belly warmed, and the air between their knuckles, where they almost touched, crackled with electricity.

The next time their bodies touched, she slipped her hand through his elbow. His body jolted before he pressed her arm against his side, and they walked to the curve of the shore connected.

When they stopped, they watched the waves lap over the rocks, their froth sputtering into the cracks.

This is the only place I’ve ever not felt alone,” he whispered.

How long have you been alone?”

Too long,” he replied.
“This is the only place I’ve ever felt seen.”

I can’t imagine you invisible,” he said.

When “It Girls” and camera bulbs surround you, it’s easy to fade into the background.”

The sky and water darkened as the light faded, and she shivered in the chill air. Her hand grew icy as he pulled away from her. As she was about to complain, a weight landed on her shoulders. His arm drew her close. He remained still, as if he waited to see if she’d object. Instead, she leaned against his side. Heat emanated from him, and tingles ran through her body. A desire to turn into him, to press her body against his, to kiss him, overwhelmed her. He positioned her in front of him and rested his chin on the top of her head. His heart beat against her back. A soft moan escaped her lips, and they both froze. All of a sudden, she was aware of how close she was. His jacket was warm from his body and smelled like him.

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About the Author

Jennifer started telling herself stories as a little girl when she couldn’t fall asleep at night. Pretty soon, her head was filled with these stories and the characters that populated them. Even as an adult, she thinks about the characters and stories at night before she falls asleep or walking the dog. Eventually, she started writing them down. Her favorite stories to write are those with smart, sassy, independent heroines; handsome, strong and slightly vulnerable heroes; and her stories always end with happily ever after.

In the real world, she’s the mother of two amazing daughters and wife of one of the smartest men she knows. When she’s not writing, she loves to laugh with her family and friends, is a pro at finding whatever her kids lost in plain sight, and spends way too much time closing doors that should never have been left open in the first place. She believes humor is the only way to get through the day and does not believe in sharing her chocolate.

She writes contemporary romance, some of which are mainstream and some of which involve Jewish characters. She’s published with The Wild Rose Press and all her books are available through Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

Author Links








In keeping with the theme of friendship, I’d like to offer a $10 Starbucks gift card to one person who comments on the blog. After all, what better way to celebrate friends than with a coffee date! Winner will be drawn at random on April 7. Good luck and thanks for stopping by!

Tuesday, March 30, 2021

WICKED INTENTIONS is coming to a bookshelf near you! #CoverReveal #Preorder #DarkParanormal #BoxedSet

Cover Reveal Banner


Wicked Intentions cover

Like what you see? Pre-order today...

Wicked Intentions

A Boxed Set brought to you by GothicMoms Studios

Arising October 28, 2021

It's time for the victims to dole out their own justice.

This one goes out to all those driven to commit suicide, or been killed just for someone else's thrills. Those whose lives were changed for the worst on the whim of a bully or someone's intolerable hatred. What happens when those victims get the upper hand? What if they get possessed by a demon to help them doll out their revenge, or converge with an old spirit who experienced the same. Or if a mischievous god catches them mid suicide and offers them a chance to exact their vengeance in any way way they choose?

These stories are not for the faint heart. There will be multi-genres involving blood, violence, sex, dark magic, twisted humor, trickster deities, and a whole lot of vengeance.

The Bestselling and Award Winning authors aim to make bully's think twice before they pick on someone.

Preorder today!



Monday, March 29, 2021

Review Tuesday: Silk by Aurelia T. Evans -- #ReviewTuesday #Erotica #Horror

Silk cover

Silk by Aurelia T. Evans
Totally Bound Publishing, 2021

Seraphina, the youngest daughter in a powerful Fae royal family, used to be exquisitely beautiful. Then the bear shifter to whom her parents betrothed her destroyed half her face, trying to break her spirit. Ursalem doesn’t care what Sera looks like; he just needs her as a mate, to produce the dozens of Bearskin offspring required to rebuild his depopulated tribe. Though raised with the knowledge that she’d marry not for love but for politics, Sera refuses to accept an immortal life as a brood-mare. She flees to the only place where a hideously deformed creature such as she has become might be welcomed and succored – Arcanium.

Immortal djinn Bell Maddox has reservations about providing Sera with sanctuary in his supernatural circus. Her people were complicit in the recent demonic invasion and occupation of Arcanium. Nevertheless, her spirit, her despair and the magic he senses within her – not to mention his curiosity and love of contradictions – persuade him to accept her as a new performer and freak for his Oddity Row.

For fifty years, Sera has retained her virginity in preparation for her arranged marriage, her self-restraint reinforcing her chastity magic. In the libidinous atmosphere of Arcanium, among incubi, succubi, and ancient fertility gods, how can she continue to resist the call of the flesh? And if she succumbs to desire, what wonders or terrors will her power wreak?

I’ve been a devoted fan of the Arcanium series ever since Aurelia T. Evans published Fortune in 2015. I’ve reviewed many of the books here on this blog.

I love the genre-twisting complexity of these novels, genuine horror mixed with incendiary arousal, romance entwined with raw lust. Ms. Evans conveys a genuine appreciation of the weird, an affection for outcasts, and a gender-blind recognition that sexual desire is far more complicated than most romance readers are willing to admit. Most of all, I savor the moral ambiguity of Arcanium. Bell is neither benevolent nor evil, but something in between, a force of nature that can’t be constrained by human definitions of right and wrong.

Unfortunately, I haven’t yet read Haunted and Skeletons, the two novels that precede Silk. This interfered, to some extent, with my appreciation of this installment, which refers to the events that occurred when Arcanium was temporarily taken over by hostile forces. I don’t know the details of what happened, but it’s obvious this interlude fundamentally changed Arcanium, and Bell. Some of the denizens of the circus have left, new members have joined, and those who remained are clearly traumatized.

Thus, I was left to fill in the gaps in reading Sera’s story.

In some ways, this tale is very much a match for the earlier books. In particular, Sera’s sex magic lights up the scenes in which she takes the legless Carlo as her first lover, then experiences a breath-stopping erotic connection with the mythical Horned God. The scenes where Ursalem and the Fae try to reclaim Sera as their own are likewise wonderful. Bell is as seductive and enigmatic as ever, though I couldn’t help wish that the author had allowed the Fae princess to succumb to his sexual charms.

As a whole, however, I was somewhat disappointed by Silk. There’s an awful lot of talking, long philosophical conversations that slowed the novel’s pace. I also felt that threads of horror that run through the series were far less compelling in this installment. The author mentions some of her creepiest creations, such as The Gentleman and the clowns, but they don’t take center stage. Sera herself, despite her disfigurement, does not inspire any sort of fear or disgust. Perhaps we’ve come so far in accepting the horrific oddities of Arcanium that they’ve lost the power to terrify.

Of course it’s difficult to maintain the intensity and the freshness of a series across ten books. This is particularly true when the author’s fictional world is intended to be scary and shocking. As with any experience, we become accustomed to the violations of convention that originally made the circus so electrifying. For me, who has read seven previous in the series, entering the gates of Arcanium feels like coming home. I look for the characters with whom I feel the strongest bonds. On the edge of my seat, I wait for Bell to engineer some impossible choice for one of his creatures. I know what to expect – but in fact, that expectation diminishes the effects.

I need to go back and read the books I've missed, though. I’m not tired of Arcanium yet.

Cover Reveal – Coming in April! #GraphicArts #CoverReveal #BDSMEroticRomance

The Understudy cover

I don’t usually do “cover reveals”. I’d rather wait until my book is released, so that readers can not only ogle the cover, but also get their hands on a copy. I’m not big on delayed gratification!

However, I spent hours yesterday – most of the day – trying to create a cover for my upcoming release, and I’m so proud I have to share.

Although I think I have some artistic talent, I’m a total novice when it comes to using photo editing and other graphic arts software. The situation is complicated by the fact that I use the Linux operating system, rather than Windows or Mac, so the packages available are somewhat different from what most people employ. It seems like forever that I sat there, peering at the screen, erasing errors pixel by pixel, swearing when my hand slipped and I lopped off a bit of my hero’s nose, or my heroine’s fingers. It was truly painful. But maybe it was worth the effort.

The Understudy: Acts of Submission is, as you might guess from the title, a BDSM erotic romance set in the theater. I’m not yet happy with the blurb, so I won’t include that, but here’s a brief snippet to give you the flavor of this tale.


The town car slid to a silent stop in front of the steps. The uniformed driver opened the back door, then stood back to let his passenger alight. For a long moment nothing happened—like the suspense before the curtain rises. I realized I was holding my breath.

A pair of long legs clad in black emerged from the shadowy interior. A lean torso followed, wearing a white shirt open at the neck under a black jacket. Finally, I could see his face.

Up close—he stood no more than a dozen yards from us—he looked more rugged and less refined than he had seemed on stage. Thick black hair curled above a noble forehead. I had a sudden, almost irresistible urge to bury my fingers in those lustrous waves. He had a Mediterranean complexion and a proud nose with a slight hook. I remembered reading that he was part Armenian and part Italian, despite his British stage name. His square jaw suggested stubbornness, his wide mouth and full lips, sensuality. His eyes were set deep under well-shaped, somewhat bushy brows.

He turned those dark eyes on me and I felt suddenly faint. They were the eyes of a predator sizing up his prey. His lips twisted into a half smile, displaying his pearly teeth. I wanted to run, but I was rooted to the spot. My cheeks burned. Sweat gathered under my arms. I realised my nipples were hard, pressing painfully against the constraining fabric of my bra, and I said a silent prayer of thanks that I’d at least worn a bra today. At least he couldn’t see those brazen nubs. The way he looked at me, though, with that focused, cruel attention, made me feel completely naked.

I couldn’t look away. The moment stretched itself out. My disobedient body betrayed me more deeply with each breath. I felt him rifle through my thoughts, seeking my lewdest fantasies. I tried to empty my mind. I couldn’t banish the image that surged up without warning, a picture of him grabbing me and tearing my clothes off.

Stay tuned! I expect a release in the middle of April!

Saturday, March 27, 2021

Charity Sunday: For the Wild – #Charity Sunday #WWF #elephants

Charity Sunday Banner

Welcome to Charity Sunday for the month of March. If you’re here, you probably already know how this works. On Charity Sunday, authors and bloggers post about some cause or charity that is close to their hearts. They pledge a donation for each comment they receive. In order to make it worth while for people to visit and comment, we also try to include an entertaining, sometimes relevant, excerpt from our work.

Today I’m highlighting the work of the World Wildlife Fund



The WWF panda logo will be familiar to many of you, but you may not be aware of the scope of the organization’s work. WWF not only funds efforts to protect the world’s biodiversity, but also has initiatives devoted to climate action, food security, forest conservation, fresh water, and ocean conservation. The organization works to help local communities conserve the natural resources they depend upon; transform markets and policies toward sustainability; and protect and restore species and their habitats. WWF wants to ensure that the value of nature is reflected in decision-making from a local to a global scale.

Many of my Charity Sundays are devoted to causes which assist humans suffering from poverty, disasters, or oppression. This Sunday I wanted to highlight the fact that human destiny is inextricably linked with the future of nature and our environment.

I also chose WWF because they’re very active in elephant conservation. One of my closest friends celebrates her birthday today, and she dearly loves elephants. So this post is dedicated to her.

For every comment I receive on this post, I will donate two dollars to WWF. I urge you to go explore their extensive website. It will get you thinking about the connections between our daily actions and the fate of our planet.

Meanwhile, here’s an excerpt from my most recent release, my Asian Adventures boxed set. This has nothing to do with wildlife, but it does celebrate some of the wonders of nature.

Excerpt (from “Dragon Boat Blues”)

Good afternoon, everyone.” Like most of the Vietnamese I knew, he was slightly built and wiry. Despite the humidity, he wore a long-sleeved business shirt buttoned at the cuffs and collar. “I hope you enjoyed your lunch.” One of the Chinese translated for his friends, and they all applauded. “This afternoon, we will cruise through some of the two thousand islands on our way to visit Trinh Nu and Sung Sot caves. Trinh Nu, or Virgin Cave, is a famous place for lovers. And beautiful Sung Sot truly deserves its nickname of Amazing Cave. Both are on the same island. We will anchor in the bay, then take a smaller boat to the shore.”

Oh, dear, Lydia.” Stan turned to me. “Are you going to have trouble with that?”

We can carry you, if necessary,” added Phil with a chuckle.

I’m sure it won’t be.” I couldn’t help grinning at their energy. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m used to doing things on my own.”

I was, too. I’d had more than seven years to learn.

The guide continued outlining our itinerary. After the caves, there’d be kayaking—definitely not for me—and swimming. The following morning we’d be taken on a trip through the mangroves to a third cave, Thien Long and in the afternoon, visit famous Cát Bà National Park. It all sounded pretty strenuous. Well, I could always stay onboard and read the thriller I’d picked up at the airport.

After Van finished his spiel, most of the passengers moved to the front of the boat to enjoy the view. I settled into a chair under a red and gold striped awning. From my shady seat, I had a fine view of the craggy limestone formations that erupted from the gleaming water on either side. Some were bare rock, but many were carpeted in vivid green. Lush growth clung to fissures in the gray stone—prickly shrubs, stunted trees, and tangled vines that hung over precipices like verdant lace curtains. Some islets were shaped like teeth of the dragon that gave this bay its name. Others recalled elephants, turtles, rabbits, even the symmetry of a woman’s breasts.

Truly, the scene was as magical as the tour agency had promised. Mellow from the wine, I relaxed and let the glorious landscape slide by. A cool breeze dried my sweat. When we passed one of the formations, close enough that I could see birds nesting in the hollows halfway up the green cliff, the spicy scent of some herb reached my nostrils.

We threaded our way among the dramatic outcrops, the still surface of the bay mirroring their irregular forms. Though other junks kept pace with ours on either side, there was little noise. A sense of peace and well-being enveloped me.

Phil and Stan sat side by side on a bench in the narrow angle at the very front, leaning against the base of the magnificent carved dragon that formed the ship’s prow. They didn’t touch. Nevertheless, even at a few yards distance, I sensed the magnetism drawing them together. I would not have called either of them handsome, but their aura of happiness made them appealing to watch.

Stan was probably in his mid-forties, I guessed. Phil looked at least ten years younger. There was nothing effeminate about either one.

Big without being fat, Stan moved with the solid confidence of a man who was comfortable in his own skin.

His lean, loose-limbed partner radiated a physicality that made me think of a tennis player or a runner. He gestured expansively and laughed often, never quite still. It was difficult for me to imagine Phil cooped up in an office.

Stan noticed I was watching. He smiled and pointed to an empty seat next to him. I grinned back, shaking my head. I was far too comfortable to move.

Before long, a much larger island loomed ahead. Two thickly forested capes reached out like arms to embrace us. Our ship slipped between them, into the sheltered lagoon they enclosed. The crew scuttled about, releasing the anchor, partially furling the scarlet sails and readying the dinghy at the stern. I was pleased to discover that the smaller boat could be raised and lowered by a pair of winches. That would make excursions much less of a problem for me.

Indeed, getting to the shore was a snap. With the help of a sturdy gangplank and a permanent dock, not to mention Phil’s strong hand, I clambered out of the dinghy without difficulty.

The guide led us up a narrow path through the forest toward the cave mouth. The way was steep but smooth. With my cane, I could manage. We gathered under a limestone overhang while Van related the tragic legend of the fisherman’s daughter who had given the cave its nickname. I half-listened, absorbed by the breathtaking view. The little harbor stretched perhaps a hundred feet below us, studded with red sails, framed by green foliage. Further in the distance, the dragon’s teeth rose out of the water, hazy in the mist.

The scene was timeless perfection. It might be worth the entire cost of the trip.

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A sinister past, a terrifying present... #Horror #Fantasy @AshleyLister

Fearless cover

About Fearless

Innsmouth University is a place with a sinister past and a terrifying present.

Two brilliant students, involved in illicit and unethical practices, believe they have found a cure for fear. The unwitting subjects of their experiments are subjected to a range of horrors as the students try to discover if it is possible for any individual to be truly fearless.

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Available in ebook and print!

Amazon UK

Amazon US



West smacked a bitch-slap across Robert’s face. The sound was hard and flat in the cold acoustics of the room. Robert staggered back from the impact, raising an arm to stop further assaults.

Graham considered stepping in to intervene but he did nothing. A part of him worried that West looked sufficiently powerful to handle physical threats from himself and Robert, and he had no wish to incur the humiliation of being bitch-slapped. A larger part of him figured that Robert probably deserved this punishment.

You sneaky little shit-pig,” West snapped.

Calm the fuck down,” Robert said hotly.

West raised his hand again. Despite Robert’s best efforts, West planted a sharp and punishing blow across Robert’s other cheek.

Don’t tell me to calm the fuck down,” West told him. “And stop backing away when I’m trying to slap the smugness off your shit-pig face.”

Graham could have told West that it would take a lot of smacking to remove the smugness from Robert’s face, but he didn’t think the contribution would do anything positive to resolve the potential issues. “What’s the problem, Mr West?” Graham asked coolly.

West rounded on him.

Problem?” His eyes were bright with hatred. “There’s no problem. I’ve just had my life’s work stolen by this weasel-faced shit-pig and, to rub salt into the wound, he has the temerity to invite me to the sales pitch he’s giving to those vultures who will be squabbling over the ownership of my contributions to science and technology.” In a tone that dripped with toxic sarcasm, he glared at Graham and asked, “That’s not a problem, is it?”

Your contributions to science and technology?” Graham repeated. He glanced doubtfully at Robert. “What’s he talking about?”

Robert didn’t get a chance to respond.

West said, “I’m talking about my approaches to eradicating fear from the human psyche. I’m talking about the way I took steps to lessen activity in the amygdala. Those were my breakthroughs and this shit-pig is trying to steal the credit for my accomplishments.”

Will you stop calling me a shit-pig?” Robert demanded.

West hit him across the face again and called him a shit-pig.

Rave Reviews

Easily one of the best ghost stories I’ve read lately. Ashley’s character work is wonderful, he doesn’t go for the cheap scare, he builds the world and the people in it to the point where you can’t help but feel fear for them and the horrible situations they find themselves in. I’d recommend this to any supernatural horror fan, and I’m looking forward to whatever Ashley puts out next.”

~ Dawn Shea

About the Author

Ashley Lister is a prolific writer of fiction across a broad range of genres, having written more than fifty full length titles and over a hundred short stories.

His work includes non-fiction titles, such as How to Write Short Stories and Get Them Published, Swingers: True Confessions from Today’s Swinging Scene, and How to Write Erotic Fiction and Sex Scenes.

His fiction includes a broad range of titles, written under an array of pseudonyms, although he is currently writing under his own name and producing horror fiction, such as Raven and Skull, Doll House, and the series of novellas he calls his dark tales from Innsmouth.

Ashley is a Higher Education lecturer with specialisms in creative writing and linguistics. He holds a PhD from Bolton University for his thesis Five Plots: the relationship between plot and genre in short fiction.

He is the co-host of Blackpool's Pub Poets and a regular participant (and occasional winner) in their monthly Haiku Death Match.

Email:me [at]




Friday, March 26, 2021

No excuse for this kind of behavior... #Royals #Giveaway #ContemporaryRomance @KatherineEHunt

The Billionaire and the Princess cover

Book Description

When a British journalist gets her dream job in The Hamptons, she doesn’t expect to find her dream man too.

All Caitlyn has to do is catch a plane, move to Sag Harbor and start her new job as editor of a brand-new society magazine. That’s what she’s promised herself. No more Mr. Wrong, no more pandering to everybody else’s needs. New life, new Caitlyn.

So when she meets a handsome gentleman on the plane, after a couple of drinks, she’s going to walk away, right? She’s certainly not going to try to join the mile-high club with him.

It turns out he’s her new boss, Hank Baresi, the youngest son of one of the biggest media moguls in America, but no matter, he doesn’t appear to remember her, anyway.

She’s just going to do her job. No serenading him. No succumbing to his sweet charms and absolutely no falling in love with him.

And, well, if he happens to fall in love with her, she’s just going to say no, right?


There is no excuse for this kind of behavior. I’ve promised, sworn and vowed never to fall for a bad guy again. Take some time out, I told myself, learn the real Caitlyn, love yourself before you love others. Why, oh why, then, am I half-naked in an airplane bathroom with a frickin’ drunken, horny cowboy? Why indeed? He’s hot, there’s that, like six-foot-two hot. You know what I’m talking about. The type of guy that makes you catch your breath when he brushes past you, hair a little unkempt, jaw a little too sharp.

In my defense, I’ve had a very strange year and, frankly, life’s gotten really, really complicated. Then there’s the free alcohol, first time in Business Class… It’s all gone to my head. I might be forgiven for getting carried away. But still, no excuse, Caitlyn, no excuse.

He traces a solitary finger down the outside of my thigh—my leggings hang off one ankle, dragging on the floor. My other foot, placed firmly on the closed toilet seat, is the only thing holding me up.

I lift my hair, curl it up on my head with my hands, soft lips brush against my neck. “You’re so freaking hot,” he slurs.

At first, I’d thought he had a Texan drawl until he’d confessed, giggling as the words came out, that he’d stolen the cowboy hat from the guy in the next seat down.

He’s not Southern—he’s just drunk off his head.

He brushes his fingers up my spine, circling the crux of my neck before gliding over my breasts, past the tips of my nipples, until they stop at the slick gusset of my undies. Fuck. For a man who smells like a brewery and has lost the capacity for coherent speech, he’s pretty deft with his hands.

Pressing tightly onto my pussy, like it’s the only thing holding us up, he fumbles with his trousers, pulling at his belt.

Do you have a condom?” I ask.

Uh…shi-it. Maybe?” He tries to grab his wallet with his one free hand and we rock back and forth as he tugs at his pocket.

Is this really happening? It was all going smoothly. Steamy, unexpected, drunken smooch in the corridor, unilateral decision to glide into the bathroom. Semi-naked foreplay.

It’s all so serious, all of a sudden. Sex with a stranger. That’s a sobering thought. Is this how I want to start my new life? It isn’t part of the plan, that’s for sure.

I’ve never done anything like this. I’m not an angel, but I’ve always been the wait a few days, get to know the guy kind of girl. Admittedly, they’d all turned out to be Mr. Emotionally Unavailable, Mr. Terrified of Commitment or Mr. Sleeps with Your Friends Plural Behind Your Back, but hey, I’d always kept my side of the bargain.

His fumbles prove fruitless. He takes his hand off me to grab his wallet, falls backward, slams hard into the door and slides to the ground. Turns out I was holding him up after all.

I spin around. “You okay?” He doesn’t have any visible injuries, but he’s a tall man in a small space and his knees are around his ears. He still looks cute though. God, I need to get laid. My horny is showing.

Oh shit!” He says it way too loud. Fuck, he’s going to get us caught. I’m not sure what the punishment is for kinky stuff in airplane bathrooms, but I know I don’t want to start my brand-new life in America in an orange jumpsuit.

Shh,” I whisper, placing my finger over my lips.

Shh. Hee-hee.” That giggle again. He’s wasted–like, actually out of it. This is rapidly turning into a very bad idea, not that at any point sneaking around with a man I’ve just met had been a solid choice. Kissing him? That had been fun, but now it feels a little like taking advantage.

He flicks through his wallet, still sat, half on the floor, legs splayed either side of me. “Shit. I got nothing.”

I lean down and put my arms around him. He nuzzles into my neck. God, he smells delicious. Whoever he is when he isn’t half-naked and hammered, he has incredible taste in aftershave. “Let’s get you up.”

Wheeee!” With one hefty yank, he’s on his feet. The effort sends my back crashing against the toilet roll dispenser. It’s like getting a devastatingly handsome, six-foot-two, curly haired, horny octopus to stand to attention. Impossible.

Stepping back to steady myself, I hear a crack. Shit. Hopefully, his phone isn’t super important because it has just smashed into a million pieces under my foot. I kick it out of sight, sit him down on the toilet seat and pull my leggings back up. My libido is fading. Fast.

I pull up my leggings and put my top back on. “You don’t wanna do it anymore?” he drawls, his face downcast.

I don’t think that’s a very good idea, do you?” He can’t even stand up for a start. God knows whether he can get anything else up.

You’re hot.” He snakes his hands up my sweatshirt.

Thank you. You’re very, very drunk.” I fasten his belt for him, inciting more giggles, and hand him his wallet, which had flown into the sink. “I think I’m going to go back to my seat. It was very nice meeting you, cowboy. Maybe we’ll meet again someday in better circumstances.” I might sound like I’m fobbing him off, but some part of me sort of wishes it’s true. I most definitely shouldn’t. The type of guy who allows himself to get in this much of a state is not boyfriend material. Not for me, anyway. But he’s a sweetie, and he’s cute when he giggles.

Oh, Caitlyn, you’re such a damn pushover.

* * * *

The old lady in the seat next to mine looks very concerned. “Did you hear all that noise in the toilet?”

Yes. Apparently, some drunk guy fell over.”

Oh dear.” She cringes. “Some people do get carried away with the free drinks on these flights. I hope he’s all right.” She’s been reading a guidebook on New York for the last four hours and hasn’t even acknowledged my presence, but now that I’ve got gossip, she’s all ears.

I’m sure he’s fine. So where are you flying to today?”

She closes her book and looks at me. “New York.” Her eyes widen with excitement. Bless her. She has to be at the very least in her seventies. I see a little of myself in her, always excited by new experiences, no matter how old I get. That’s the only way to live.

Well, yes. I meant for business or pleasure.”

I’m going to see my son. He’s got a fancy job in Manhattan, going to show me the sights.” She curls her lips into the biggest grin.

Oh, that’s lovely.”

Something loud crashes behind us. “Oh dear,” she mutters. “What now?”

A flash of white comes racing past our seats. A butt. A very naked butt attached to a very handsome, drunken, giggly cowboy.

Shit,” I whisper under my breath. Maybe I shouldn’t have left him to his own devices after all. He turns and waves his not-insignificant appendage at a room full of dozing passengers before a hand reaches through the curtain behind him and pulls his drunken, naked butt into First Class.

Good lord,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen one like that since my Henry was alive.”

I turn to her and smile, hiding my deep regret at my rash decision not to get cowboy’s number before I’d left him. “Lucky you,” I reply.


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About the Author

Katherine E Hunt ran off with a Frenchman twenty years ago. She now lives on a French mountain with three children and two dogs. When she isn’t writing contemporary romance she can be found huddled up in front of a roaring fire, with a glass of Chardonnay in one hand and a book in the other.

You can find out more about Katherine on her website.

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