Sneak Peeks
Book One, Cougar Challenge
Monica Allen is one cougar who isn’t ready for retirement yet. She’s always been attracted to younger men, even married and divorced one. She thought she was through with them for good. Then she meets a group of like-minded ladies at Romanticon, and they form a blog celebrating younger men, Tempt the Cougar.
After another lonely Friday night, Monica challenges her friends to find a younger man to make their fantasies come true. Why shouldn’t she have a younger man if that’s what she wants? She doesn’t have to marry him—been there, done that, threw away the tee shirt. But for a night of hot sex? Hell yes.
Sam Lincoln refuses to be just a fantasy. He’s a graduate student with a yen for older women and he may have just found the one to make his own fantasies come true. With a little help from his roommate Josh, Sam fulfills Monica’s deepest desires. Can he convince this sexy cougar to give him a chance at happily ever after?
***
Sam couldn’t say whether he’d heard the bell over the door ring as it opened, but something made him look up. He caught a glimpse of dark wavy hair and a gorgeous pair of tits in a low-cut top. The crowd moved then and came between him and the newest customer.
“Hey, two beers,” some frat boy demanded impatiently as he slapped some money on the bar.
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Any beer?” he asked with an insincere smile.
The guy scowled. “Yeah, really funny. Two Heinekens.”
Now why wasn’t Sam surprised? But wouldn’t the joke have been on him if the kid had said yes? Sam had no idea what he would have given him. Probably Heineken. Sam laughed to himself as he turned to pull a couple of cold bottles out of the cooler. He turned around and placed them on the bar, grabbed the money and looked down while he made change. When he looked up to give it to the kid, she was there.
Whoa. He blinked a couple of times. Women like her just didn’t walk into this bar. She was a tiny thing. If there was a god then her ass was more than a match for that chest. Her pretty blue eyes met his across the bar and it was as if a live current of electricity shot straight down to his dick.
“Hey, aren’t you Drew Jenkins mom?” the frat boy asked.
Blue Eyes turned to him with a horrified look. “What?” she asked in a matching tone.
The guy had the grace to blush a little as Sam shook his head. Even an idiot could see she wasn’t old enough to be some college kid’s mom. How many beers had this guy had already? Sam made a mental note to cut him off after this round.
“S-sorry,” the frat boy stuttered. “For a minute you looked like someone I knew. But I guess I was wrong.”
“You think?” she answered sarcastically. Sam didn’t bother to hide his smile as the kid turned and hurried off. Blue Eyes turned back to him. “Hit me,” she said flatly.
Sam blinked. “What?”
She closed her eyes for a minute and sighed. Then she looked at him again. “Hit me? With a drink? Something liquid and alcoholic? Quick?”
Sam could feel his face heat with embarrassment. “Oh, yeah, sorry. What’ll you have?”
“What has the highest alcohol content behind your little bar there?” she asked, clearly standing on her tiptoes as she craned her neck to see behind the bar.
Sam grinned. “That bad, huh?”
She looked around the bar with an exaggerated grimace. “Yep, that bad.”
Sam nodded. “Yep, that bad.” He definitely knew what she meant. He had to face this crowd several nights a week. But it helped pay the bills until he got out of grad school.
“I’ll have one for the road,” she told him, leaning forward to put her elbows on the bar. She almost put her arm in a puddle of beer and Sam stopped her with a hand under her elbow. He lifted her arm and grabbed a bar towel and wiped it clean before gently placing her arm back down on the bar. Oh, yeah. He wanted her. Just touching her elbow had him worked up. How sad was that?
She stared at him for a couple of seconds and then said in a husky voice, “Scotch, please. Glenlivet.”
Sam was impressed. “On the rocks?”
She nodded and then she licked her lips. And that was when he decided that he was not going to let her walk out of the bar tonight without him.
When the bartender returned with her drink he put it down in front of her, but when she tried to pay he pushed her money away.
“On me,” he said with a smile. “And my name’s Sam. Sam Lincoln.”
Monica had an almost irresistible urge to toss the drink in her face as if she was Harpo Marx with her hair on fire, this bartender was so hot.
“What?” she said stupidly. It couldn’t be this easy. It couldn’t.
She reached for the drink but he moved it out of her reach. She gave him a confused look.
“Stay,” was all he said.
“Stay?” Oh, yeah, she was totally going to impress him with her witty conversation. She could see his feet being swept out from under him right now.
He laughed. Christ on a crutch. She nearly came in her new slinky black cougar panties. “Stay as in don’t leave. Without me.”
Monica was so far under his spell she almost said yes without even thinking about it. Then some college kid fell against her, knocking her in the shoulder and she stumbled. The kid laughed and turned to her, obviously drunk.
“Oh, hey!” he exclaimed. “Aren’t you a little old for this place? Looking for some young meat, huh?” he winked broadly. “I’m your man, little lady.” He scrunched up his face and raised his hands like they were claws. “Rawrrrr,” he said, and then he and his friends nearly pissed themselves laughing.
It was so farcical Monica couldn’t even be offended, much less embarrassed. She just put her forehead in her palm and reached blindly for her drink. This time the bartender gently pushed it into her hand. “Thank you,” she mumbled before she took a drink.
She could feel the bartender’s eyes on her and she peeked around her hand to see him with his arms crossed on the bar and his chin resting on his fist, staring at her. He smiled slowly.
“I’m your man,” he told her in a voice with a heat index of about 110.
Monica’s jaw just dropped open and he laughed. She gulped and managed to squeak out her name. “Monica.”
“Monica,” he repeated slowly. Then he smiled and straightened up, tapping the bar with a fist. “Oh, yeah, Blue Eyes. You just sit right there. I’ll be back.”
Did he think she was going to walk away from his blond hair, blue eyes, impressive muscles displayed in a tight worn t-shirt, and his low–slung jeans that she was sure were hugging a world-class ass? Last time she checked she may have been old, ahem, older, but she wasn’t senile yet.
She grinned as she watched him walk away. Yep, world-class ass.
*****
Gregory Anderson has reluctantly returned to England after more than seven years sailing the world and cataloging new discoveries. He's there to visit old friends and present the finding of his travels to the Royal Society. Half-Polynesian Gregory is caught between two worlds. He isn't looking for love. He's only looking for a warm body with a modicum of wit and reasonable intelligence to help him get through the few short months he'll be in England.
Nat and Alecia Digby married when they were young and foolish. An arranged marriage to please their parents led them to take lovers, and their marriage was almost ruined before it began. But through the actions of a mutual friend and lover Nat and Alecia found their way back to each other. They don't want to give up the erotic games they learned to play and to enjoy, but they won't risk their marriage again by falling in love with someone else. And they won't hurt anyone else they love by asking them to endure the pain of being an outsider in their marriage.
When the three are introduced by a mutual friend they think it will be nothing more than a night or two of shared pleasure and erotic thrills. But the unthinkable happens, because love refuses to be forced into exile.
* * * * *
Alecia’s mouth was dry. She licked her lips and Mr. Anderson followed the motion of her tongue with his eyes. She couldn’t disguise her breathlessness, either. When he wasn’t watching her lick her lips, he seemed mesmerized by the rise and fall of her chest with each deep breath.
She was a puddle of want. Good lord, the man was gorgeous. She couldn’t remember ever wanting someone like this. Well, someone besides Nat. And she hadn’t wanted him like this since before they were married-since before all the hurt and scandal and fear. Mr. Anderson made her feel like an untried virgin again. As if he had all sorts of wicked things in mind she’d never tried before. And she’d tried quite a bit, truth be told. Sometimes more than she wanted to remember the next morning. But she wanted to make Nat happy. And Nat was happy when she let her inhibitions go and enjoyed her passions. Truthfully, she was rather happy then, too.
She very much wanted to enjoy passion with Mr. Anderson.
And the way he was staring at Nat made Alecia squirm. She loved to watch Nat with another man. There was something so illicit about it, so naughty and divine. Watching Nat fuck a man made Alecia happy. She wasn’t sure if that was because she knew how much Nat enjoyed it, or if it just aroused her tremendously. The thought of Nat and Mr. Anderson fucking each other nearly made Alecia swoon right there on the sofa in their drawing room.
“So you are the famous Gregory Anderson, explorer and naturalist?” Alecia asked politely, if a little breathlessly. They were sitting in the drawing room because Alecia wasn’t sure how to proceed, and neither was Nat. Once they’d realized who he was, Nat was full of admiration in the carriage, but Alecia had been embarrassed that she hadn’t made the connection immediately. And she’d teased him about being an explorer at Wilchester’s, too. Now she was overwhelmed and tongue-tied. He was a brilliant naturalist who had seen half the world. She was formally trained in etiquette, not classical literature or the sciences, and had never left England. Surely he would find her lacking if she attempted conversation.
Mr. Anderson had been very quiet on the drive to their townhouse. It was almost as if he were observing them. She felt a little like a scientific specimen under his scrutiny.
“Yes,” he answered simply, clearly in no hurry to fill the silence that stretched between them.
Alecia looked at Nat in desperation and he just shrugged.
“I’m not sure what to do here, Mr. Anderson,” Alecia ventured tentatively.
“Call me Palu,” he interrupted. For a moment he looked startled, as if he’d surprised himself by speaking.
“Palu?” she asked. “Is that Italian?”
He shook his head. “No. It’s my name in the language of my mother’s people.” He seemed to reach a decision of some sort, which in turn seemed to open the floodgates of speech. “My father called me that. It was the name my mother gave me before she died. It is the name I am called in the islands.” He stood abruptly, and Nat stood as well.
“All right, Palu,” Alecia said, the name strange but exotic sounding in her mouth.
The man was as exotic as his name. He dwarfed their small drawing room. Alecia had feared for the welfare of the small settee upon which he’d sat. At the same time she’d wanted to crawl into his lap, straddle him, and ride him until she screamed. She worried her lip a bit as she stared up at him, wondering if he could read her decidedly wanton thoughts in her face.
He smiled and Alecia relaxed. It was the hungry, relaxed, playful smile he’d given them at Wilchester’s. It was desire. Alecia knew what to do with that.
He reached for Alecia’s hand and pulled her up from the sofa. She went willingly, letting him lead. It was clear he knew where they were going far better than Nat and Alecia did. He threw his arm around Nat’s shoulders, and then gently pulled her against him, too, hugging her with one arm. He began to walk them over to the drawing room door, both of them clasped to his sides and Alecia found that she fell in step with him quite easily.
“Come on,” he said jovially.
“Where are we going?” Nat asked, and Alecia heard the laughter and desire in his voice. He wasn’t used to be led, she realized. Usually Nat set the pace when they invited another man over.
“I thought you might like to watch me fuck your wife,” Palu said happily. Alecia lost a step and his arm tightened around her as he kept moving, holding her up.
“And then?” Nat asked, his voice low and breathless.
“And then she can watch me fuck you,” Palu answered matter-of-factly.
They’d reached the drawing room doors and Palu released them to step over and grasp the handles. He turned to look at them over his shoulder with a grin and he waggled his eyebrows, his eyes twinkling.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” Alecia said on a trembling breath, and Palu rewarded her by throwing the doors open and ushering her through.
Pink
Buttercream Frosting