Saturday, December 23, 2017
Thursday, December 21, 2017
New releases from Melange Books and Satin Romance
The Rubicon Effect
Two seemingly unrelated events will soon affect the
entire world!
Born into poverty and raised on the mean streets of Buenos
Aires, Argentina, the new leader of the Holy Church intends to bring the church
kicking and screaming into the 21st century.
While at the same time, the death of the Venezuelan
President has opened the door to a new, rising political star and her plan is
to inspire an entire world.
The Pope finds himself cleverly trapped in a web from which
he cannot escape, when the Republican nominees for President and Vice President
of the United States of America propose a horrific solution.
However, two visionaries: a mysterious Elder from the Andes
Mountains, who calls himself Older Brother, and an environmentalist, see
another way…
Unfortunately, the time to act is running out. Mother Nature
may have crossed the Rubicon and there is no turning back. The Apocalypse, the
End of Days has arrived and humanity is to be judged. Genres
Thriller
Heat Level: 1 flame Sweet Love scenes are not consummated, or if the love scenes are consummated details are not given
Heat Level: 1 flame Sweet Love scenes are not consummated, or if the love scenes are consummated details are not given
Awakened Animals
A Shifter Novel (15)
A page that contains adult content.
Cousins. Close as brothers, both with a past they must
deal with in order to embrace the future.
Stray has been held as a sex slave for years. His one and
only thought night after night in his cage has been Vesper, his mate. Now with
her in his arms, finally he thinks all will be well—until his cousin gets a
call that will change both of their lives.
Mika thought he had found his mate, but he was wrong. After
her death, he ran from it all, but he could only run for so long. Back in a
place he had called home, he comes to terms with the fact that the one he
thought he wanted wasn’t meant to be. He also has to deal with one family
member who clearly doesn’t want him there.
As one bonds with his mate, the other struggles with his
past as well as what is right in front of him. Mika refuses to see that he made
a mistake and the pull he thought he felt toward one is really meant for
another. When Mother Nature takes it all out of his hands, Mika must come to
terms with what has been unleashed.
Genres
Shifter
Erotic
Series
Heat Level: 5 flames
Scorching
Frequent love scenes are extremely explicit described using graphic and direct language. Some stories may contain subject matter which some readers consider objectionable.
Erotic
Series
Heat Level: 5 flames
Scorching
Frequent love scenes are extremely explicit described using graphic and direct language. Some stories may contain subject matter which some readers consider objectionable.
Wild Whispers
Set against the exciting backdrop in the chase for the
Triple Crown and filled with mystical surprises. Season is not a witch, but she
can make a horse run and Ty’s heart race.
Season Moriarty is part fey and part druid. She can see the
future and alter it. She welds control over the natural elements of earth,
wind, fire and water as well as manipulating life and death. And she is an
accomplished racehorse trainer, able to get any horse to run like the wind. Now
Season has landed the dream job that will test all of her skills and abilities.
Ty Masters runs his horse racing business with an iron fist.
No one dares to question him. He hires Season based on her reputation. Then
they meet. Immediately, she questions him, challenges him, infuriates him,
intrigues him, captivates him, and even intimidates him a little. Then she
spellbinds him. But can she make a Triple Crown winner out of his willful colt?
Mysterious threats to Ty’s racehorses bring him and Season
together in a race against the clock. As the stakes for the Triple Crown rise
and the mystery of who wants to destroy Ty deepen, so does the undeniable
interest and fiery sparks between them.
Genre: Fantasy Romance/ White Satin Sweet.
Wednesday, December 6, 2017
Snuggle up with a Christmas more reads from Melange Books and Satin Romance.
Moonlight & Mistletoe
Some men consider themselves God's gift to
women; but with Derrick Barnes, it's just a given. What woman wouldn't want a
sensitive, hunky blond exotic dancer under her tree on Christmas Eve; all
wrapped up in a bright red bow for her enjoyment? Yet Derrick, by day a college
student and department store stock boy, only has eyes for Sheila Baxter; the
bright BBW p.r. professional at Leveaux department store.
This year serving as Sheila Claus, the jolly replacement
Santa at Leveaux department store, Sheila Baxter has quite the crush on her
'elf' for the season, stock boy Derrick. Yet when she learns the secret about
his scandalous night job, will she still be willing to meet him under the
mistletoe?
Genre: Contemporary Novella
A Pink Satin
Romance Sensual
A Bride For Christmas
Driving home for Christmas, the last thing Robert Tremaine,
Duke of Whitney expects to find is an unconscious woman in the snow. The
mystery deepens when she wakes up and cannot remember who she is. Robert
becomes enchanted by the mysterious stranger who refuses to let the fear of her
memory loss overwhelm her. It is only at the Solstice Ball, when her uncle
appears and demands that Emily Conrad return with him to honour the marriage he
has arranged, that she regains her memory and remembers what she was running
from. Desperate to escape her uncle’s plan, Emily decides to disappear,
unfortunately the Whitney diamonds disappear with her. Robert is furious, Emily
has not only stolen the diamonds, but that he allowed himself to fall in love
with her, a flirt and a thief.
For months he searches for her and they are reunited, but
will their happiness last? Emily’s uncle is not only determined, but desperate
that she marry the man he has chosen for her and will stop at nothing to make
sure that the wedding happens. Will Robert ensure that the right man has a
bride for Christmas?
Genre: Historical Holiday Romance
A White Satin Romance Sweet
A Miracle for Christmas
Michael Slanders only wants a steady job and a family of his
own, but instead he lives from hand to mouth with his sick mother. Fired a week
before Christmas and down on his luck, Mike needs nothing short of a miracle.
Sometimes, goodness prevails. Sometimes, magic is made.
Genres
Holiday - Christmas
Short
Heat Level: 0
Short
Heat Level: 0
An American Noel
Charlie Reardon is a down-and-out bum looking for some
returnables and a warm place to sleep on a snowy, Christmas night. Instead,
with the help of his on-again-off-again angel, Gabriel, Charlie finds a baby in
an alley. Does the baby offer some type of redemption?
Genres
Holiday - Christmas
Short
Heat Level: 0
Short
Heat Level: 0
Sunday, December 3, 2017
Snuggle up with a Christmas more reads from Melange Books and Satin Romance.
Saving Marta
contains adult content.
When a lonely young woman and man conspire to save an
elderly woman, they have no inkling of where their efforts will lead. Elderly
Marta Walters only wants to die after losing her youngest son in the Afghan War
and suffering the painful aftermath of hip surgery. Her other son, Jase,
desperate to help her, enlists the aid of Trudy Ballentine. Christmas is coming
and he wants it to be one they can all celebrate.
Genres
Holiday - Christmas
Short
Short
Heat Level: flames
Boiling Sensual, yet more explicit love scenes, and the language may be more graphic and direct.
Boiling Sensual, yet more explicit love scenes, and the language may be more graphic and direct.
Who's Been Naughty or Nice
Famous Christmas characters bring new
meaning to romance with a modern day twist. Cherish this wonderful time of year
in wanting to be on both Santa’s nice and naughty list.
Northern Polar Printing Company’s President, Zane Ashcroft,
is in love with the Vice President, Annie McGrath. From their first encounter,
both knew they were destined to be together. At the annual Christmas party,
Zane, who dresses up as Santa, intends to propose to Annie after dinner. A
recent argument concerning Nick, the janitor, and a shocking development
thwarts his intentions.
Will Annie get that long awaited chance at love and
happiness and risk being on Santa’s naughty and nice list?
Genre:
Contemporary | Holiday Romance
Heat Level Sensual
Synopsis & 3 Snippets From Angel of Kindness By Joanne Rawson
Megan Shepard was not looking forward to Christmas. Now
divorced, all she had to look forward to was spending Christmas in Derbyshire,
with her sixty four year old, bisexual, hippie mother, and a scrawny little
sapling tree, overdressed with cheap decorations from the pound shop. However,
her friends had other ideas, like taking her to Pinkie’s Night Club, their old
stomping ground as teenagers. This brought back memories of rah-rah skirts, fishnets,
and legwarmers dancing to Madonna, until the DJ played The Power of Love,
whereupon Richie King would take her hand and lead her to the dance floor.
Seeing Richie leaning against the bar in his unforgettable
Danny Zucko pose, she knows the right thing to do would be to walk in the
opposite direction, yet finds herself walking straight to him, and taking the
advice of her unconventional mother. Swept off her feet to the winter
wonderland of Manchester’s Christmas Market, romantic walks in the snow of the
Derbyshire Peak District, and fireside dinners, she has to wonder if Richie
really changed, or has he something to hide?
SNIPPET 1 ANGEL OF KINDNESS
Switching on the coffee machine, I waited until the dark
brown liquid slowly trickled into the jug, before looking out of my mother’s
kitchen window. All the other houses on this quiet Derbyshire cul-de-sac had
turned into an explosion of life and colour, with decorated windows, ready for
the forthcoming Christmas festivities. Customarily, by now my house in
Leightonstone East London would be fully dressed with lights, tinsel, and
foliage. A large tree chosen with great care and attention would take pride of
place in the living room. The house would smell of cinnamon and spices from
endless nights after arriving home from my job at the advertising agency, I
would play corny Christmas songs filling me full of Christmas cheer and spirit,
while cooking puddings, mince pies and biscuits that we would still be eating
well into the New Year. I haven’t a clue why. It wasn’t as if we had a house
full of children, in fact, children had never been on my agenda; well, hardly
surprising, if you knew my background.
My mother, Lois, had me while she was studying art in Paris.
She returned home to Derbyshire just long enough to pop me out and leave me
with my grandparents, then fled back to her ménage a trios—a sculptor and his
artist wife, my mother’s lesbian lover. Three years later, she returned only to
scamper away again, after eighteen months, to live in a commune. So the whole
cycle started again, until my grandparents grew old and my mother was forced to
return to Derbyshire.
Looking at the garden, there was no plastic Santa Claus, no
lights in the conifer tree, not even a wreath hung on the door. Instead of the
large spectacular tree, hidden in the corner of mum’s living room, skulked a
scrawny little sapling that still looked overdressed with cheap decorations
from the pound shop; this Christmas, everything looked bare, unimaginative, and
dowdy, a mirror image as to how my life felt at this moment in time. Here I
was, Megan Shepherd, forty- six, spending Christmas with her sixty-four year
old, bisexual mother.
Come on! Surely, my feelings were justified. For sixteen
years, I thought I had had the perfect marriage to Ian, a history lecturer at
the local college. How wrong I had been.
* * * *
Since Ian had turned forty, six years ago, there had been a
succession of embarrassing midlife crisis hankerings. It all started with the
motorbike, speeding around the countryside like a boy racer, clad in black
leathers that did nothing for his podgy middle-aged spread. Every time Ian left
the house as he put it, ‘to burn some rubber,’ my heart would come into
my mouth when the phone rang, expecting a call from the local hospital.
However, his accident was closer to home when one Sunday afternoon, Ian raced
down the road, misjudged the entrance to our drive, and ended up smashing into
the neighbour next door’s closed garage door. For months, his friends branded
him with the nickname, Evil Kineval.
Eighteen months later came the reformation of his old
college rock band, which ended after their first gig in the college student
union, as five over the hill rockers were booed off the stage. Then last year,
when I thought there would be no more revelations of his misspent youth that I
would have to deal with, came a surprise. One day I thought I would surprise my
husband by picking him up from work. I had a surprise all right. Walking into
his tutorial room, at first I thought he was strangling one of his female
students, her jumper tugged around her neck, moaning, when I realised it was
Ian moaning blissfully as he groped her pert boobs, with nipples like juicy
cherries, snogging like a rampant teenager.
Of course, Ian assured me there was nothing in it, purely a
misinterpretation, he said, after telling the young woman her essay was
perfect. She thought he had said, “Your ass is perfect,” whereupon she threw
herself at him.
“So,” I replied, “in an attempt to fend her off, you rammed
your tongue down her throat and groped her boobs. Yes, I can see how it was
misinterpreted.”
Ian became alarmed as his normally placid wife strung
together whole sentences of profanities that he never realised I knew, ending
with a cutting comment of—“Quite frankly, Ian, it’s the girl I feel sorry for,
having to fall to such levels as having to kiss a balding, flabby, old man, old
enough to be her father. For God’s sake, who do you think you are, Michael
Douglas? Just take a look in the mirror Ian. I can assure you you’re not.”
A week later, and still not talking to Ian, and while
sorting through the laundry, a packet of Easy Rider condoms fell out of his
trouser pocket. It all became apparent that Miss cherry nipples was from a
misinterpretation. Confronting Ian that night, he openly admitted that he had
been having an affair, not with cherry nipples, but to my horror, with a
twenty-year old named Patsy, who worked in the college cafeteria.
The next morning, he awoke to find his bags packed, and soon
to be branded by his friends as the oldest swinger in town.
Now we are divorced and Ian has shacked up with Patsy, in a
two bedroom flat above a newsagent. Am I pissed off? Sure as hell I am, I mean
if he was going to have an affair, then please, why not another lecturer, a
mature student, but a glorified dinner lady? Please give me some credit.
My tension eased when I saw my old school friends, Pam and
Helen walking up the drive, laughing and joking just as they had done when we
were teenagers. Perhaps they had it right, and I had it wrong. After leaving
school, Pam trained as a secretary and now was an office manager for an
insurance company and married to Pete, her school sweetheart. Only last year we
all celebrated their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Helen took numerous
catering courses at the local college and now she and her husband, Kevin, own a
lucrative bakery and café in town. Perhaps I should have come back home from
college like them and married a good old down to earth Derbyshire man. Before I
had time to ponder about what options I’d had all those years ago, Pam and
Helen charged into the kitchen. Hellos, hugs, how are you, and I missed you,
all surged into one wave of delight and love, of three close friends.
“Look at you.” Helen holds my hands and takes a step back.
“You look amazing since you’ve lost so much weight. What is your trick?”
Helen had always termed herself well built, and now, after
having three children and confectionary on hand twenty-four-seven, termed
herself as spongy. Nevertheless, she was flawless, eye-catchingly beautiful,
perfect peaches and cream complexion, only needing a stroke of mascara and a
lick of lipstick, and the darkest waviest hair that fell seductively over her
shoulders.
“Tell Kevin to run off with a woman old enough to be his
daughter.” I laughed.
“I’m sorry, I never thought.”
“Oh don’t worry about it, Ian certainly isn’t. Now tell me
what are we doing tonight?” Not about to let Ian spoil my night out with the
girls—hell I wasn’t going to let it spoil Christmas and the next year ahead.
“Well,” Helen gave a childish chuckle, “Oh, you tell her
Pam.”
Pam, tall, lean, and chic, had just come from work.
Immaculately dressed in a smart black suit, sensible flat court shoes, her long
brown hair tied back in a snug chignon, made her face look harsh and prickly,
when actually she was the kindest, sweetest person you could meet. Jigged up
and down like a child needing to pee, she said with glee, “We’re going to
Pinkies!” then they both screamed.
It took a moment for me to process. “You mean polka dot
rah-rah skirts, fishnets, and legwarmers, dancing to Madonna, Pinkies? You do
know we are in our forties and not seventeen anymore?”
Helen beside herself could hardly speak. “No.
It’s—not—Pinkies—anymore.”
“It’s now called the Black Note,” said Pam. “Do you remember
Richie King?” I nodded. Do I remember Richie King; there was a blast from
the past, I hadn’t thought of in a while. “He bought it a few years back.
Anyway, this year he is having a Christmas reunion for our old high school, our
year, and two years above and below.”
Amused, I shook my head. “So that is why you told me to
bring my red dress was it? I thought sexy and slutty was a little OTT for the
locals at The Cock and Bull.” Pam and Helen stood smiling like two Cheshire
cats.
“It will be just like the old days,” said Helen. “Lots of
wine, and with a bit of luck, for you, Megan, some kissing under the
mistletoe.”
SNIPPET 2 Angel of
Kindness
Not sure if I was drunk on too much red wine or Christmas
spirit, we danced to a melody of Christmas songs. Richie had gone all out, as
artificial snow cascaded down over our heads, party poppers and hats
distributed by the waitresses had everyone in a festive mood. I left Lee
dancing with Greg Mullen’s, he wasn’t gay, but Lee was adamant, it would only
take one more Santa Sling cocktail, and he’d have Greg, on his knees, where
he liked his men.
Teetering off the dance floor, I couldn’t help noticing
Richie leaning against the bar in his unforgettable Danny Zucko pose. Knowing
the right thing to do would be to walk in the opposite direction, I found
myself walking towards him. My heart leapt into my mouth. He looked so
debonair, with his thick head of salt and pepper hair, black jacket, a crisp
white evening shirt, open at the neck, and without doubt designer jeans that
showed off a body of masculine perfection. He could give Richard Gere a run
for his money any day.
“Megan,” he murmured his eyes rolling up and down admiring
every inch of my body, until they firmly fixed on my cleavage. “You look
amazing, how long has it been?”
“Gosh, I don’t know. Which sounds worse? I was eighteen or
twenty eight years ago?”
“Really, you seem to have forgotten The Manor House Hotel,
after Pam’s wedding, and then again at Helen’s.”
“Oh yes,” I laughed nervously. “It must have slipped my
mind.” I hadn’t forgotten, I just chose not to remember, because after each
wonderful night we had spent together it had tortured me for weeks later,
knowing how much I loved him, but also aware how far apart our lives were at
that time.
I just knew, as we stood there, I was vulnerable and tipsy,
a lethal combination for me when around Richie King. And then it happened. My
legs went weak at the knees, my tummy fluttered, as if a thousand butterflies
had encased my body. It was the same feeling I used to have when I stood near
him, a sense that no matter what, with Richie by my side I would be safe. No,
no, this was not going to happen to me, I was not going to be pulled in again. Remembering
to breath, I sucked in a lung full of air. “Richie,” I tried my best to sound
calm and collective “This place is amazing.”
“It is, and it could be better. Helen says you are in
advertising. After she gave me your card, I did a bit of research, and it seems
you are a very talented woman, Megan. Big accounts, excellent credentials,
you’re just what I am looking for. By the way, I was sorry to hear about the
divorce.” His dark eyes sparkled with roguish amusement that I knew so well,
knowing by his last statement the stakes in our meeting again had just gotten
higher.
Oh, dear lord, what has Helen gotten me into? I knew that
coming here tonight would be a mistake. In just a few minutes of being with
him, I was in complete unrest. Emotions I thought I’d laid to rest had just
woken. “As flattered as I am, Richie, I couldn’t possibly commit myself.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Because you don’t want to, or are
you frightened where this reunion might lead?”
He slipped his arm around my waist, and I was spine tingling
aware of the close proximity of his body as he pulled me into a tight grip.
“Have you ever done anything on impulse, Megan?” My stomach churned as he
softly pulled away a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear, trailing his
finger down my neck.
Dizzy with excitement I said the first thing that came to
mind. “I bought a doughnut today.”
The moment the words left my mouth, I knew how stupid I
sounded.
Ignoring my comment, his hand slipped dangerously down to my
butt, letting it fall away just before it reached my butt cheek, he moved so
his lips were inches away from my ear. I could smell the musky fragrance of his
aftershave as he stood his ground, declining to move.
“We’re too old to play games, Megan, so let’s get out of
here. You know you want to.”
Flustered for the next few seconds, not helped by the thrill
of electricity that shot through my body, my power of speech seemed to have
vanished. Clearing my throat my voice came out in a husky whisper and I backed
away and out of his arms. “Thanks, but like you said we are too old to play
those games anymore.”
Walking away, I could feel him still watching me, I wanted
to turn around, but I knew if I did, I would walk right back.
Spotting Helen and Pam sitting with Lee, just a feet away
from where we had been standing, I hoped to god they had not seen Richie and
me, but by the raucous laughter, I could see Lee had them entertained.
“Here she is.” Helen looked rather worse for wear as she
hissed. “Where have you been?”
“Just catching up with old friends. You know how it is.” I
slipped onto the black leather sofa, glancing over to Richie who was still
watching me.
As much as I tried to engage myself in the conversation,
Richie, casually leaning back against the bar, sipping a drink distracted my
attention. I knew it was Southern Comfort; it had always been his poison, a
double shot, and two ice cubes. No, don’t remember the ice cubes. However,
it was too late. The memory of Pam’s wedding was as clear now as it was the
next morning I lay in bed next to Richie, recapturing every moment of our
sensual lovemaking. I had never had a lover as intense as him, so responsive to
my body’s needs.
There had hardly been any surprises with Ian. A quick fondle
over my nightgown, two groans from him and perhaps three half-hearted ones from
me, to say I was still awake and it was over. Perhaps it was time to listen
to the advice of my unconventional mother. On leaving the house tonight,
she had said, “With a smile on your face and your legs in the air, put
caution to the wind.” Handing me a
pack of condoms, she instructed me not to come home until at least midday.
The Beach Boys
began to sing Christmas Comes this time of year, and seeing as I hadn’t come
since last Christmas, to hell with it, I think it’s about time to give myself
an early Christmas present. As if on cue, Lee called over a waitress to order
more drinks, allowing me to make my excuses. I was tired and I still had
Christmas shopping to do in the morning, I left my friends, oblivious to the
fact that shopping was far from my mind as I joined Richie at the bar. “So, you
still fancy doing something on impulse?”
He placed his drink
on the bar. “I’ll get Max to bring the car around.”
* * * *
Still high on an
adrenaline, the reality of what I had done did not hit home until I walked
through the door of Richie’s plush town house, and I heard the bolt pulled
across, and the key turn in the lock. Instantly, I became sober, my heart began
to pound and suddenly I felt overwhelmed with vulnerability.
Richie on the other
hand seemed totally at ease as he kicked off his shoes, informing me to make
myself comfortable, he would fix us a drink. I had no doubt in my mind that he
was used to bringing home nameless females to share one night of carnal sin.
Left alone in the living room, I stood in amazement and looked at his
impeccable taste in furniture.
A large white couch
scattered with an assortment of black and grey cushions, and two matching black
easy chairs, seemed to be the focal point of the room. A deep shag rug lay on a
dark wood panelled floor in the seating area, and an enormous, flat screen TV
had been mounted on a dark grey wall. It was a masculine room, yet the soft
lighting gave off a seductive, rich, ambiance.
I ran my finger
along a rack of CDs surprised to see his choice of music, soft jazz, and blues.
Clearly, he had outgrown his Madness and Boomtown Rats days. A large
bookcase stretched down the length of one wall, one shelf filled with classics
that I doubt he ever read at school. A whole section was devoted to business
management, the last three sections containing thrillers and suspense. I was
not at all surprised to see autobiographies of the Kray Twins, Ronnie Briggs,
Freddie Foreman, and Capone, to name a few of the gangster titles. However, I
wondered if I should be worried when I saw Gangsters Moll.
It was then I
realised, Richie was no longer the young Flash Harry I once knew. He had
matured into a successful businessman, and was still unscrupulously fetching.
Now seeing how his life had changed from the small council flat he shared with
his mother and drunken father, I knew leaving him this time would be the
toughest thing I had ever have to do. Unexpectedly I shivered. How could I have
ever doubted him, when he told me he was destined for a better life? I jumped,
startled when a pair of strong arms wrapped around me, but relaxed when Richie
whispered in my ear. “Are you cold?”
Instantly, the
warmth of his body, pressed firmly into my back, melting away any
uncertainties. “Mmm, that’s better,” I purred. Slowly gyrating my hips so my
body pushed deeper into the contours of his, feeling the strength of his
arousal.
Holding me tightly,
he released one firm strong arm and with his index finger he lifted my chin and
instinctively I turned my head as his lips touched mine in a kiss so soft and
gentle. Pulling me around to face him, he folded me into his arms, devouring my
mouth in a hungry kiss. The more passionate our kissing became the more our
desire for each other intensified. His hands roamed the curves of my hips, as
mine caressed the firmness of his chest through his shirt. As his hands slid up
my back, his fingers expertly traced the zip of my dress; my fingers nimbly
undid the buttons of his shirt. In perfect unison, I dragged his shirt off his
shoulders as my dress fell to the floor. Richie’s hands were shaking, as he
placed them on my bare shoulders, I could see his eyes glaze over with tears.
Panic-stricken I cupped my hands around his cheeks. “Are you okay?”
“I’m wonderful.
It’s just I have been waiting so long for this moment, I was beginning to give
up hope. I just want to look at you, feel you, to make sure this is real.”
Standing before me
was a man who gave the impression he was tough, unemotional and selfish; I was
touched by his heartfelt meekness. “Oh, baby it’s real alright, a lot older,
and a little saggy in places.” Without any shame, I took a step back and saw a
single tear trickle down his cheek.
“You’re absolutely
perfect.” His fingers reached out and traced the rounded mounds of my breasts,
cupping them he bowed down; I emitted a velvety moan of delight as his tongue
teasingly rolled around my nipple, first one and then the other, giving each
his undivided attention.
Running his hot wet
tongue from my breastbone to my navel, I arched my back as electrifying shocks
exploded down my spine.
Working down my
stomach, Richie gave a deep moan of pleasure, when he saw my black hold up
stockings, feeling his hot breath as he placed hot, open mouth kisses on the
tad of white flesh above, my lace garter tops, his lips rimming the edge of my
panties. I felt my legs tremble as he slipped his fingers under the elastic. My
fingers ran through his hair, gripping it tight as little by little, with each
tender kiss, he removed them. Feeling that my body was about to humanly
combust, I dropped to my knees; Richie one-step ahead of me was frantically unbuckling
his belt, unzipping his jeans, then with quivering fingers protected himself.
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I couldn’t help crying with joy as he rocked
my hips gently back and forth. Richie was patient, taking me higher and higher
to a pleasure zone I never knew existed, before giving way and our bodies
shuddering passionately together.
Richie heaving for
breath gasped, “So now will you do my advertising?”
“You could have
saved us a lot of time and effort by leading with what you just did, and by now
we could be negotiating my fee.”
Tossing me
backwards onto the rug, he growled. “I’m ready for negotiating if you are,
Shepard.”
Snippet 3 Angel of Kindness
True to his word,
Richie had been about an hour in his club, a trendy establishment for
Manchester’s affluent and by all accounts, the in place for celebrities and
footballers. Lush was the place you went to, to get yourself noticed. As
I watched in astonishment as six-foot angels were suspended from the ceiling,
white columns were entwined with masses of golden foliage. Waitresses were
dressed in sexy white and gold cherub costumes and the men as cupids, getting
ready for their night ahead for tonight’s celeb guest list, a theme party, Christmas
Heaven. I wondered what Richie could possibly want my advertising expertise
for, since this place was amazing. He was truly remarkable. Reluctant to leave
as the paparazzi began to gather outside, I didn’t want to disappoint Richie by
suggesting that a Christmas market seemed somewhat of a comedown, when I could
be meeting Manchester’s famous celebrities.
It was just a short
walk from the club in Castlefield to Albert Square where the scene set in front
of me was breath taking The Gothic style architecture of the Town hall was
amazing, and perched on the top of the Town Hall, Father Christmas was an
impressive backdrop to the rows, and rows of little wooden huts set out like an
Alpine Village. As I stood in awe looking at the giant revolving nativity
scene, Richie slipped his hand in mine. “You like?”
“Like, I love it,
thank you so much for bringing me here.” I planted a kiss on his cheek.
Slipping his arm
around my shoulder, he said, “It’s amazing isn’t it, it really puts you into
the spirit of Christmas.”
“It really does.”
Taking in the fantastic food smells, and the twinkling lights, there was a
great sense of excitement as I looked at the faces of people passing by. “It’s
like Santa’s wonderland store, all these little huts, with Santa’s little
helpers selling their wares.”
Richie laughed. “I
do declare that you, Megan Shepard, are a closet Christmas junkie.”
“I have to admit,
normally, this time of year I am so hyped up on Christmas, I just adore it. But
this year I couldn’t muster any enthusiasm until now, thanks to you. Come on.”
Grabbing his hand I pulled us into the throng. “I want to see everything, and
sample everything.”
No stall went
unmissed as we walked at a snail’s pace around the market, buying a few last
minute gifts for mum, Helen, and Pam, I could not resist. We gorged ourselves
on German sausages, Hungarian goulash, and Dutch pancakes, so much so we had no
room left for dinner. Walking hand in hand and chatting as if no time had
passed at all, Richie suddenly pulled me into a department store. Dragging me
by the hand, he seemed to know where he was heading, weaving in and out of
shoppers. This man was on a mission.
“Richie, what on
earth?” I tried to keep up with his long strides.
“All will be
revealed in just a minute,” he said, cursing as he took a wrong turn into the
luggage department. Retracing our steps back through women’s wear his pace
slowed as he began waving, noticing Max standing by the washrooms.
“Gosh your cutting
it fine, boss.” Max handed me a black leather suit holder and a small tote bag.
“I’m sorry, but I
really don’t understand…” I looked at the suit holder in my arms.
“Do you really
think, Megan, that I would let you come here without letting you meet, what was
it you call them? Oh, yes Manchester’s famous celebrities. It wasn’t hard to
plan since you had already left your dress in the boot of the car. It was just
a matter of picking up your shoes, which you kindly left at the bottom of the
stairs. Now slip out my suit and shirt, we haven’t much time. For a moment, I
couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “We’re going to the party at the club.”
“We’re really going
to the party?” Laughing, I reached up, pulled his face down, and kissed him. “I
have a feeling this is going to be the best Christmas ever.”
* * * *
Things could not
have been more perfect when, Richie woke me the next morning to look out of the
window and, scrambling out of bed, I shrieked with joy when I saw a beautiful
blanket of snow. Togged up in my mum’s wellington boots and Paddington Bear
duffel coat, we headed for the Peak District. Arriving at the Tissington Trail,
we appeared to be the first to brave the weather, as our two sets of footprints
left a trail in the blanket of virgin snow. With our arms wrapped around each
other, we would stop every few yards, leaving behind our footprints facing each
other, showing evidence of a shared kiss.
Trees on either
side of the trail, reached out their bare branches to touch each other, and
dusted with powder, they formed a veil of white lace, beneath which we walked.
The sun was now breaking through the white heavy clouds, melting the white
lace, and diamond-like crystals began to fall. A small hamlet, which would have
normally been surrounded by green pasture, was now a wonderful picture of
cottages with their rooftops covered in glistening snow. It reminded me so much
of my grandmother's snow scene Christmas cake with peaks of royal icing, and
right in the middle the plastic snow covered houses. Everything around us
looked so sharp and clear and that was when I put my life into perspective.
We walked and
talked until our feet and fingers became numb, and our cheeks tingled with
cold, before we returned to the welcoming warmth of the car heater.
* * * *
“Oh my, this is so
beautiful,” I exclaimed as we drove into the small village of Hartington. Small
stone cottage shops and cafes bordered a village green carpeted in snow, and a
duck pond glistened like a mirror in the watery sun. It truly was a picturesque
setting for a postcard, or lid on a tin of Christmas cookies. “How on earth did
you find this place?”
“It’s one of my
secret little haunts,” Richie said, taking his eyes off the road for a moment
to look at me, his dark green eyes sparkled like emeralds.
When the car came
to a stop, Richie jumped out, ran around, and opened my door, taking me by the
hand. “Last night, at the Christmas Market, I happened to notice how you ate
every sample of cheese and with such relish, so where better to bring you but
here.”
I looked to where
he was pointing. “A cheese shop! I feel like Gretel seeing the house made of
bread and cakes, but instead its cheese!” Giving him a big bear hug, I added,
“Last night I was transported to Lapland, then Cinderella did go to the ball,
and now a house of cheese. How can I ever thank you for making the last two
days so special?”
Enfolding me in his
arms, he laughed. “Oh Megan, just seeing you smile and so happy is more than
enough for me.”
Once inside, I
pondered on the vast selection before me, the attentive staff waiting while I
made my choice and then quickly changed my mind. Eventually after a good half
hour we left, bags bulging with every cheese the shop sold, along with savoury
biscuits, chutneys, a selection of wine and a huge hamper for my mother.
“Are you sure we
have enough?” Richie teased as we packed our wears in the boot of the car.
“Well, I would have
loved that wedding cake of cheese, but seeing as I’m not planning on getting
married in the foreseeable future, unless you are planning on marrying again,
then I could be your official taster.” The smile on his face suddenly seemed to
vanish. “I’m sorry; that was uncalled for.”
For a moment, he
just looked at me. I might have been mistaken, but there was almost a look of
fury in his eyes. “We’d better get going, it’s starting to snow again, and it
will be dark soon. Best we get home.” He slammed down the boot and with a
definite march walked around to the driver’s side of the car. Silly stupid
me, why did I mention marriage, after three disasters no wonder he looked
annoyed.
No sooner had I
opened the car door and put one leg inside he set off, hardly waiting for me to
close the door. The five minutes of silence seemed like hours, until his hand
reached out and patted my thigh. “I don’t know about you but I am
starving-hungry. I know this great place in Risley, run by my friend, Mike, not
far from your mum’s, so I won’t have far to drive after, shall we go there?”
Great, he’d taken the hump. “Or you can just drop me off at my mum’s house first if you wish.”
He glanced sharply
at me. “Why?”
“I thought maybe
you needed some time on your own, I mean we have been rather in each other’s
face for the last two days.”
His eyes darted
from the road to me. “Is that what you think? I suggested there because it’s
near to your mum’s house so I can get rid of you?” His words were blunt and
snappy.
Gosh I’m just digging myself in deeper here, my best bet
is to smile apologetically.
“I suggested it
because I had offered to take you and your mum food shopping tomorrow, and with
the Risley Park being so close I thought I could have a few glasses of wine,
and then perhaps stay with you, I didn’t mean anything sinister.”
“I’m sorry, again.
Yes, it would make sense to stay over at ours, and now you mention it, I’m
starving hungry too.”
* * * *
We decided to eat
in the chic contemporary bar, finding two leather chairs next to a roaring
fire. After a fantastic meal of Moules Mariniere followed by honey roast
duckling, we sat back and full and satisfied, we finished off our bottle of
Cabernet Sauvignon.
As I sat staring
into the flickering flames of the fire, my thoughts wandered back to earlier
today; when I thought I had put my life into perspective, but had I really?
It all seemed to come back to the same question I’d been asking myself for the
last two days. I knew I had to ask, even if I liked the answer or not.
“Richie, can I ask you something?”
“Fire away.”
“What have these
last two days been about?”
“Two friends
meeting up after years, sharing some quality time together, getting to know
each other again.”
“And when I’ve gone
back to London?”
“Well, that all
depends on you, Megan.” He took a drink of his wine, observing me over the rim
of his glass. My heart was pounding. Is this the part in the conversation
where I tell him I don’t want to leave? Because as each day goes by, I am
falling deeper and deeper in love with him. I tried to look into his face
to see what he was thinking but it was expressionless. Jeeze, I bet he’s a
good poker player. So if I tell him the truth, and he just wants to be old
friends who are just sharing some quality time, I go home broken hearted. Then
again, if I agree it’s just a friendship, then I go home broken hearted anyway,
so I can’t win either way.
“You seem to be
deliberating, Megan, perhaps I should say something. I am selfish. My main goal
in life is to build business to make money, but I’m the kind of man who needs a
woman, and over the years it is fair to say there have been a few, some have
lasted a few weeks, some have lasted one night. I have had three disastrous
marriages, and why? Not because none of them has understood my business came
first, it’s purely because I know I’ve never really loved them. Then when I saw
you walk across the dance floor on Friday night…” He paused for a moment to
catch his breath I could see tears welling in his eyes. “Megan, I don’t want to
be just friends, and I think neither do you. How we work this out I haven’t a
clue. You have a successful life in London and I have one here. I have been
thinking of nothing else these last two days, and I’m sorry if I was sharp
earlier, when you spoke about marriage, it was because I love you too much to
lose you a second time.”
Oblivious to the
fact we were in a public bar, I stood up from my chair and knelt down beside
him. Taking his hands, I clasped them tight, lifting them to my lips softly
kissing them. When I looked up I felt tears sliding down my cheeks. “When I
said I could never thank you, I was wrong. I can give you something, from today
and for the rest of my life I want to give you all the love in my heart.”
Linking his arms
around my neck, even though he was now crying too, I could see when he gazed
deep into my eyes, the same love, and understanding. “That was so beautiful,
Megan, and I promise to do the same too.” A murmur of how enchanting came
from the next table.
“Perhaps it’s time
we went home, Megan?”
* * * *
Genres
Chic-Lit Holiday - Christmas Short
Heat Level:
Boiling Sensual, yet more explicit love scenes, and the language may be
more graphic and direct.
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Kindness – eBook From:
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This story is
featured in Life’s Unexpected Adventures Volume 1 paperback & eBook
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