Kylie Jenkins has lived the past few years fearing for her life. She knows she must do whatever it takes toescape her current situation. With each assault, the injuries she sustains are more severe. She calls upon her childhood friends to help her escape, however it means moving away from everything she loves. Without knowing if she will ever see her family or friends again, she takes off in hopes of a new beginning. Her entire world is turned upside down until she is reunited with her childhood love and things start to look up. Cameron is the type of man she wants to spend her life with, he is fun, sensitive, considerate, and sexy.
Unfortunately, for Kylie, her dangerous past seems to be sneaking up on her. Strange things start happening to her, making her feel apprehensive and afraid. Her friends assure her that she is safe, but they start to think Kylie might be a bit paranoid. Will Kylie finally have her storybook romance? Or will her love and desire for Cameron be tainted from the start?
My name is Wendi Hulsey. I was born and raised in Racine, Wisconsin, just south of Milwaukee. After several vacations to the sunshine state, my husband and I fell in love with the warm weather and decided to have a house built in Florida. I miss my family and friends up north;however, I will never regret not having to shovel snow again. I have been a registered nurse for about ten years. I currently work on a medical/surgical unit, preferring to work the night shift.
My husband and I have been married for sixteen years, and I appreciate his support during this endeavor. I have one son who is a hard working grown man now living on his own. He has blessed me with the most precious grandson and a wonderful future daughter in law. My daughter is a beautiful and smart teenager who excels at just about anything she tries. She enjoys playing soccer and we have spent numerous hours on various soccer fields. I am blessed to have my mother, a retired cook, living with me and she is a great help with cooking, cleaning, and chauffeuring the teenager. Other members of our family include; one dog, one cat, two turtles and several fish.
My love for reading began at the age of twelve on a stormy day. With nothing to do I was bugging my mother, she said, “Go read a book.” I have never stopped. As a teenager, I preferred horror books, mainly Stephen King. As I age, my reading tastes change and I currently read mysteries, romance, or erotica. It has always been my dream to write a book. Although writing is a hobby for me, I hope to produce a book to the best of my abilities and hope you have enjoyed what you read. Thank you for your support.
MAKING IT GOOD
ENOUGH – (Good Enough, Book 3) an erotic
romance by Zara Stoneley Available at Amazon US / Amazon UK
Two couples, turbulent pasts. Are they capable of loving and
trusting each other as much as they need to? Can they make it good enough to
Holly is happy, or at least she thinks she is. Things
haven’t quite got to the ‘Holly and Dane together forever’ stage, but she had
thought they’d have got past the ‘honey, your ex is at the door’ stage. Until
the day his ex, Sally, arrives on the doorstep – intent on spilling secrets
from the past that could tear them apart.
Charlie’s got the girl he loved back. But this time can they
go all the way – if it means going back to the lifestyle that he ran away from?
Who will be walking up the aisle? Will any of them get their
happy ever after – or will an uninvited guest at the wedding ruin it all?
“What are you thinking?” I put my arms on his shoulders and matched his
stare. “There’s something going on in that head of yours.”
“Something rude.” The smile changed to a dirty grin, all dark and
deadly. “Fancy a game of strip poker now the lovebirds have gone?”
I’d thought we were about to wash the mugs. Obviously not.
“You know I can’t play poker.” I tried to keep my face straight and
“Strip snap will do for me.” He pulled me tighter against his body and I
could feel the bulge of his erection, then the heat of one hand drifted down my
spine and his other one held me firm.
I let my fingers work their way into his thick hair. “Didn’t you say you
had shoes to nail on?” Dane was a farrier which had some massive bonus points,
like muscled arms and toned abs, and that unique smell of mingled sweat and
burned hoof that sent me crazy (who said I was sane?), but it had its downside.
Like callouts on a weekend.
“Shoes can wait.” His mouth was warm and damp against my neck and he
sucked gently as I tipped my head back, sending a rush of goose bumps down my
“Where are the cards?” He’d flicked that magic switch inside me, just
like that, and I was panting, struggling to talk normally.
“Damn I haven’t got any. You?”
I shook my head and hoped he wasn’t going to stop. He didn’t. He carried
on nibbling his way down, while he groped about in his jeans in a decidedly
“Here.” It was half triumphant as he held the coin up in front of me.
“Heads I get to pick the next move, tails you do. First to ten.”
“So what happens when we get to ten?”
“I go hammer shoes on.” His smile was wolfish and he raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll toss.” His eyes darkened, if that was possible.
“Heads, strip. Slowly.” He backed off slightly. There were times when
Dane was easy going, and times when he was so in control it made me hungrier
for him than I’ve ever been for a man before. I slowly stripped the T-shirt
over my head, dropped it onto the kitchen floor. It’s never sexy stripping
jeans off, and when they’re skin tight it’s the most I can do not to fall over,
let alone be a vamp, but I did my best.
“Bra.” His deep voice rumbled through me. I reached for the clasp, let
the lace fall to the floor. “Knickers.”
I slowly edged them down, looking into his darkening eyes as I did so.
I swallowed to clear my throat, dampen down the anticipation which was
tightening my muscles. “My turn?”
He tossed the coin again, unsmiling. “Heads again. Come here.”
I took the one step it needed to get within arms’ length of him and he
effortlessly lifted me, sat me on the edge of that wooden table, gently lowered
me down until my spine was flat against the unyielding cold surface. His
fingertip stroked up the inside of my trembling thigh, heavy enough to feel,
light enough to make me long for more.
“Close your eyes and don’t move.” He moved away and there was a clunk of
a cupboard door opening and closing.
The scented sweetness reached me the moment I heard him open the jar.
Honey. This time when he trailed his finger over my skin it was thick and
heavy, dragging with a sticky friction. This time as his fingers made their way
up the inside of my thigh they were followed by the heat of his breath, the
dampness of his mouth. My pussy was tightening even before he reached it, even
before the gentle dribble hit the warmth of my skin and slowly trickled over
me. His finger circled in the sticky liquid then stroked slowly over my slit
until I could feel the sugary sweetness tightening on my skin, and as his
finger slipped inside me, a low moan dragged itself from somewhere deep inside
me. He chuckled, rubbed over my clit with a thumb that was heavy and slow, as
his fingers pushed deeper inside me. I put my feet on his shoulders, curled my
toes and frantically lifted my hips, squirming to get him deeper inside.
Then I forgot Anna, Charlie, forgot the wedding, forgot everything as
his tongue lapped over me in slow steady strokes, and he was sucking my swollen
nub gently, teasing me as his fingers slipped back inside. He blew, gentle
puffs of cold air as he made me hot, twisting his fingers against the gentle
friction of stickiness and my stomach hollowed as my pussy clenched, my thighs
trembling with the tension that came before release.
About the Author
writing stories for just about as long as I’ve been reading them – it’s
rumoured that I’m related to Elizabeth Gaskell, so maybe it’s in the genes!
I live in a
country cottage in the UK with a naughty mouse catching, curtain climbing cat,
my wonderful guitar playing, video making, Minecraft mad teenage son and a wine
drinking, sun loving, master chef in the making, sexy alpha hero.
When you're not writing, what do you like to do to just kick
back and have fun?
I love to dance! A lot… embarrassingly a lot. I dance, play
the piano, read, paint, go out with friends and family. I probably have too
Do you ever experience writer's block? If you do, how do you
cope with it?
I do, and it's hard to get over when it hits. Sometimes I
just have to force myself to write. I usually end up going back and redoing the
forced sections because they're not right, but at least it gets the ball
Were you an avid reader as a child? What type of books did
you enjoy reading?
Oh, I was! As a super little kid, I loved all the typical
kid books, picture books, Bernstein Bears, you name it... When I got older, I
was really into David Eddings and Neil Gaiman. Stardust remains one of my all
time favorite books. I'll read pretty much anything though! As long as I can
get into the story, I'm happy.
Tell us a bit about your latest book, and what inspired you
to write such a story.
This book is light and fun. I've always meant to write a
book with teachers as the main characters, since that was my job before I
started writing. I also wanted to give my two main characters a bit of a
painful past and then stick them somewhere they have a hard time getting away
from each other. What better than the same hall of a school building on a team
Did your book require a lot of research?
Three years! Just kidding… haha. I set this book in a
school, and a lot of it is not only the romance, but the relationship between a
bunch of teachers who are good friends. I taught for three years after college
(and coached girls' soccer!) and I based a few of my characters on friends I
had in that school.
If you could have any vice without repercussions, what would
Haha I don't think I should answer this one!! I'd suppose it
would be unlimited desserts, especially macarons. I have a huge weakness for
What is the most ridiculous thing that you have thought
about doing to any of your characters but never did?
Hmmm define ridiculous:) I'd have to say no. Typically, if I
like an idea I use it! I'm sure I've had a few ideas that turned out to be too
dumb to use and I canned them but they flew out of my mind the second I decided
You get to ask a fictional character out on a date—who would
you ask and what would you do together?
Easy. Either Fred or George Weasley:) And as far as what we
would do? Probably get into a lot of trouble. I think they'd be massive fun
How much does reader reaction mean to you as an author? Do
you read your own reviews?
Oh, it means the world if readers like my stories. Obviously
because if they don't like one, they're not as likely to read my next book, but
mostly because the whole point of what I do is to make people happy. I'm
realistic, and I know there's no book that everyone loves, but if I've made
just a few people happy that's good for me:)
I don't read reviews unless the reviewer has brought it to
my attention. As far as Goodreads goes, I think that site is there for the
readers and they should be able to talk about me and my books at will without
wondering if I'm sitting here plotting revenge for bad reviews (which I'd never
do, that was just a joke!) so I stay away altogether. Professional/blog reviews
I'll read if I'm linked to them, but I don't go out searching for them.
Rory was Ben's oldest and best friend until senior year of
high school, when they confessed they'd harbored feelings for each other all
along. They enjoyed only a few months of happiness until Ben chose closeted
popularity over true love… and he's regretted it ever since.
Eight years later,
Ben is out and proud and teaching art at the same high school he graduated
from. When he learns the chemistry teacher is retiring, he's excited to meet
her replacement until he finds out the brand new teacher is none other than
Rory Newton—the first love he's never quite gotten over. Despite a painfully
awkward start, it doesn't take Ben long to realize he'll do whatever it takes
to win Rory back. But it's starting to look like even his best might not be
Earl of Strathairn, is on an urgent mission to find the killer of his fellow
spy. After visiting the young widow of one of his agents, Strathairn
strengthens his resolve. A spy should never marry, and most certainly not to
Lady Sibella Winborne, with her romantic ideas of love and marriage. Unable to
give Sibella up entirely, he has kept her close as a friend. Then, weak fool
that he is, he kissed her.
Winborne has refused several offers of marriage since she first set eyes on the
handsome Earl of Strathairn. Sibella’s many siblings always rush to her aid to
discourage an ardent suitor, but not this time. Her elder brother, Chaloner,
Marquess of Brandreth, has approved Lord Coombe’s suit. Sibella yearns to set up her own household.
She is known to be the sensible member of the family, but she doesn’t feel at
all sensible about Lord Strathairn. If only she could forget that kiss.
the family returned to Brandreth Court, their townhouse in Eaton Place, Sibella
faced another dizzying round of social events. She and Maria took an afternoon
off from social calls to view the Parthenon sculptures at the British museum.
were returning home in a hackney cab when Maria grabbed her arm. “Look, there’s
Sibella said. Her heart raced as the tall fair-haired man crossed the road just
as their cab drew up behind a town coach.
pulled down the window. “Lord Strathairn!”
Sibella hissed as her cheeks began to burn. He turned his head and changed
direction, coming to their carriage where they’d stopped in traffic.
removed his hat and bowed. “Visiting Regent Street, ladies?”
Lord Strathairn, do you think shopping is all we ladies do?” Maria asked in a
smiling gaze sought Sibella’s. “Not at all. I have two sisters who have made me
fully aware of the importance of shopping.”
laughed. “We have been to the museum to view the Elgin Marbles.”
Then I apologize. What say you, Lady Sibella? Did you enjoy the museum?”
divorced from the conversation, Sibella’s mind still dwelled on their last
encounter. Startled, she whipped her gaze away when she discovered herself
staring at his mouth, recalling the salty-sweet taste of his kiss. “It was
quite edifying. Such antiquities are awe inspiring.”
I confess I haven’t yet seen them.”
you are as negligent as we are, my lord,” Maria said. “Elgin brought them from
Greece three years ago.”
laughed. “I have not seen you riding of late, Lady Sibella. Your brother Vaughn
told me you were down at Brandreth Park.”
came back for the opera.” Sibella placed a hand to her cheek. It felt warm even through her kid glove
and she hoped he could not see what his presence did to her. “And my mare has
developed shin splints and must rest.”
traffic cleared ahead and their carriage jerked forward. “I trust we’ll see you
again soon, my lord?” Maria cast a quick glance at her. “Although we are off to the country again next week. Mama intends
to visit our brother Bartholomew in York.”
traveling north myself,” Strathairn said. “We might meet at the York assembly.”
plan to be there. I do hope you come. It’s a remarkably dull affair.” Maria
stared at Sibella. “Don’t you agree, Sib?”
it certainly can be,” Sibella said.
bowed again. “Then I look forward to seeing you there.” At a shout from a
drayman, he dodged a wagon and ran to the pavement.
turned to her. “Well!”
wrinkled her nose, trying to adopt a casual pose. “Well, what?”
are in a brown study. I’m sure Strathairn was enthralled by your scintillating
do stop, Maria.”
on earth is the matter with you? You two generally talk for ages. Had you
nothing to say to him?”
eyes went from owlish to accusatory. “Why didn’t you tell me? And when was
About the Author
Maggi Andersen fell in love
with the Georgian and Regency worlds after reading the books of Georgette
Heyer. Victoria Holt's Gothic Victorian novels were also great favorites.
She has raised three
children and gained a BA and an MA in Creative Writing. After husband David
retired from the law, they moved to the beautiful Southern Highlands of
Maggi's free time is spent
enjoying her garden and the local wildlife, reading, movies and the theatre.
She keeps fit swimming and visiting the gym.
Maggi is a multi-published
author, and writes mysteries and young adult novels as well as her Georgian,
Regency and Victorian romances.
A: What's that? Z: An oldie but a goodie. A: As in old cookies? I won't indulge if they are over two years old, y'know. Well, maybe.... Z: You are hopeless when it comes to cookies. You are as bad as Bodie, say the word cookie and she'll do anything. A: You're comparing me to a dog? Z: A very sweet dog. A: (Sighs) so true. She is, and so am I...and...I am seeing a thread here. Z: (Grin appears) No thread...we write, we don't sew. A: (A full eye sweep of the ceiling and a huff for full effect.) Cookie and sweet. I remember a once upon many a year ago shorty. Z: Perfect for this time of year?
A: Blow off the dust and bring it all for all to share!
For you are readers, a little short story treat.
Today we'd like to share a short
Christmas story as a gift to all our readers.
The air snapped with cold, enormous
faux candy canes bracketed the city streets along with various wreaths of
garland while a festive din dominated in snatches of chatter that could be
overheard yet not understood. Jeffrey Bains' jovial step mirrored the sentiment
all around him. It was the season that spontaneously stirred, and he
anticipated it with the zeal and delight of a child despite his thirty-some odd
years. Once the turkey crowned the dining table at Thanksgiving until that baby
new year let out a squeal, Jeffrey was well-bitten. But why? Or perhaps more
appropriately phased, ready to bite. It was cookie time!
Only during the holidays did Jeffrey
let go of his rigorous dietary routine, why, the sojourn to find, yes, the
perfect, most decadent, aromatic, Santa pleasing, tummy satiating Christmas
cookie. Friends, especially Eric, his bright, inventive, young accounting
apprentice understood cookies replaced something deeper. That deeper something
Jeffrey missed around the holidays more than at any other time was a family.
He was the last of his linage and
oft filled his time volunteering in every capacity possible. Giving back to his
community was either subterfuge or displacement to hide his loneliness, but as
good as he felt, service to humanity didn't trump children, siblings, parents,
or... His perpetual smile never revealed the secret ache of longing to find the
her, the she, the one. But many knew, and many tried the ole set-up game. He
heard do I have a girl for you, to the point of cringing. Jeffrey was
good-natured about it, despite not have bad-date insurance, but after so many
ill-timed, ill-suited, ill-looking, ill-gotten, ill-fated dates, most friends
eventually savored the bitter taste of discouragement.
Eric walked with his boss to the
parking lot after work and suddenly announced, "I know where the best...
the best Christmas Cookie can be found."
Jeffrey's face was slapped with
befuddlement. He quipped, "No way!" He asserted, "I've eaten
cookies before you knew what milk on Santa's beard looked like."
"Seriously," he reflected
sincerity, "I've heard about this place from my dad's Uncle Sal twice
"He worked for a bakery and ate
so many cookies, he was removed, hired again and, yes, once more removed."
"Ah, a connoisseur."
"Go to Maria's Christmas Café
by eight o'clock tomorrow morning, talk to the owner and ask for One Sweet
Cookie." Eric slapped his shoulder.
Jeffrey securitized Eric, considered
his seriousness, for no one was ever serious about his seasonal cookie
obsession. Alas, maybe, he found in this young apprentice, a comrade, one who
understood man did not live by over-iced cake alone.
The next morning, Jeffrey arrived at
the café early, identified the owner by her nametag, made eye contact and
repeated what Eric had instructed.
Eyes bright as sugar sprinkles, she
pointed to a counter stool. "You wait right here," she said with a
About to order coffee to go with the
anticipatory treat, he was distracted by a woman with outlandishly wild, near
black, curly hair, a delicate expression and a decisively lilting laugh, it
oddly prompted by a nearby rambunctious child tripping and then splattering a
chocolate éclair on her expensive looking winter-white skirt. "You're
good," she said, righting the little girl, anticipating concern.
The young one looked at the ruined
skirt and lost chocolate and custard treat, forlornly. "Sorry."
"Awwww, thank you,
Sweetie," the woman said and handed the child her over-sized oatmeal
raisin cookie. "My skirt ate your treat, might as well eat it's
cookie." She jostled the fabric and growled.
The child giggled and dashed back to
an unaware mother.
Jeffrey handed the fetching lady who
waft of cinnamon a wad of napkins, wishing he was of the handkerchief
generation, more gallant, but it was flu season, maybe not. "You took that
well," he said, noticing her seasonal red high heels, ankle bracelet set
on shapely calves and a skirt a tad hiked, triggering the rakish boy. He
sniggered as would an adolescent, thinking cream all over her.
One corner of her mouth rose,
noticing his eyes and with fluffy tones she said, "Skirts can be
cleaned!" Then she hesitated acquiescence, "but that cookie was my
"Buy you another?"
"No... No... Okay."
Infested by child-like mannerisms.
They both laughed, and neither knew
"Although, " she continued
while waiting in line with him, "that could have been the one."
"The one what?"
"The best Christmas cookie of
the season. It had a nice delicate scent, not too much cinnamon, and it was the
perfect size, big enough to fill but not stuff. I might not find another like
Astonished, another cookie bon
vivant, he grilled her about cookies unable to help himself, and her responses
were quick, intelligent, a woman of cookie cunning. Attractive, charming,
adaptable, and cookie sensitive. Yes, she stole his imagination and for one
brief fleeting moment, dare he hope that this woman was the her, the she, the
"Jeffrey Bain," he finally
She tilted her head. "Eric's
"You know Eric?"
"He's my cousin, twice
"From the bakery?"
"No, that's Uncle Sal. This is
his sister Maria's café."
Jeffrey now understood Eric's
previous serious look, now identified as one of stealth, he admired that, but
flashed to pondering from where and why he had been fired.
"Eric spoke of you." Her
eyes held admiration. "The good guy... is handsome." She swung her
shoulder in that way all women have opening to him.
His modesty and humility eclipsed
her doting. "Eric!!!" That red hue of unexpected embarrassment on a
strong man was charming. He glowed with a meaningful purpose and adoration for
life and its abundance. She held out her hand, and he folded it in his own,
warmth unlike that he had ever known engulfed him, it wasn't the heat of just
sensuality but of budding romance. "And I'd like to get to know you...
ummm... What is your name?"
She smiled that smile of fantasy and
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Angelica Hart and Zi ~ Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane
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