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Toni has more worries on her plate than she cares to count. Their battered old carwash is in even worse shape than they thought. Phoebe has been alarmingly moody and withdrawn ever since she met their new landlord, Riley Thompson, to haggle out their lease agreement…

And the county’s new building inspector has showed up unexpectedly, and brought trouble with him. Now they might not be able to open their new business for several months!

Why does he keep coming back to pester her? If only he wasn’t so incredibly sexy, with a taste for homemade Italian cooking…and gorgeous Italian sorority girls!

~~~~~~~

“Toni!” Muriel rounded the corner at top speed…then rocked back on her heels and stared up at Jason in surprise. “Well, hello there, dark and handsome!”

“Hello, yourself!” Thompson had warned him that the BetaZeds were all lookers, but even so, Muriel’s exotic beauty was stunning. Those long slender legs, lush breasts, coppery skin that gleamed with healthy sweat, and enchanting elfin features packed an unexpected punch that he felt all the way into his gut.

“Muriel.” Toni’s crisp reply held a low note of warning that surprised even herself. “What’s wrong?”

“Not wrong…right! I think.” The Jamaican girl’s rich contralto voice suddenly faltered with doubt. “We found a plastic bag buried under the rubble, and there’s a whole bunch of money inside!”

“What?” Toni and Jason spoke at once, then nearly ran each other over in their scramble to follow Muriel.

“Don’t touch anything!” Jason yelled as she vanished around the far corner. “The police will want to dust everything for prints!”

“We know!” Another woman’s voice answered him. “Who the hell are you?”

He skidded to a stop, and found himself facing Muriel and five other women in a tight cluster. The tallest one’s raking glance was distinctly chilly.

“Jason Prescott,” he said, thrusting a hand in her direction. “County building inspector.”

She shook his hand reluctantly. “Nina Marshall,” she replied. “And these are my sorority sisters.”

He pumped each of their hands, and had a moment to appreciate the absurdity of behaving so formally when there was a black plastic sack filled with probably-stolen money lying at their feet. “Where did you find the bag?”

“Why?” The busty redhead—Phoebe, he thought—glared at him with definite hostility. “You’re not a cop.”

“Phoebe.” The petite Oriental girl laid a soothing hand on her arm. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Jason wondered if he’d correctly heard just the slightest emphasis on the word ‘he.’

Phoebe flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she muttered, scuffing one dirty sneaker on the oil-stained concrete. Then she slanted a rebellious glance at him. “We’re all hot and tired,” she added with a sugary-sweet smile that only emphasized her resentment. “We’ve been working hard here.”

Her sly implication, that he’d been sitting on his butt in a comfortable air-conditioned office while they’d been slaving away in the sultry heat, came through loud and clear. Briefly Jason wondered whether he should respond in kind. Then he decided that he liked Phoebe MacIntyre, despite her surly attitude. Or maybe, he thought with a quick ironic grin, because of it.

“Where did you find the bag, Nina?” Toni asked in a subdued voice.

“It was under here.” Bending, the taller girl pointed to a shallow depression in the solidly packed mound of garbage. “The ends were knotted tightly around an empty wine bottle, and it looked strange, so I tugged on it, and the entire bag came free.”

“I suggested opening it.” Selena spoke up, and hunkered protectively over the lumpy bag. “It never even occurred to us that anything valuable could be inside. But we’re trying to salvage recyclable cans and stuff while we clean it all up, so I figured it was worth checking.”

He could imagine the shocked looks on their faces when they’d untied the knot, expecting to find more disintegrating McDonalds wrappers…only to discover a hefty pile of cash!

 It was supposed to be an easy two-week hike into the mountains with a bunch of teenage foster kids. But disaster was waiting in the wings—and when Father Matthew and Marlie tumbled headfirst into a swollen underground river and nearly drowned, he realized that the sacred vows he’d taken were no match for explosive physical passion! (priest, older man, teen, male virgin, illicit sex, hiking trip, outdoor sex)

~~~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~~~

Marlie kept right on his heels, and peppered him with eager questions about the landscape, the foliage, the local wildlife, the incoming weather, and anything else that popped into her agile mind. That was probably why he was so…distracted.

Well, that and the fact that she was wearing threadbare skintight jeans that showed an indecent amount of creamy skin through the worn patches, and a floppy man’s work shirt over her equally tight black t-shirt that should have hidden her lush curves, but somehow emphasized them instead.

He tried to keep his eyes straight ahead when she fell into step beside him. But he was only human, after all. And it would be rude not to glance her way occasionally as he answered her enthusiastic questions. If his gaze happened to slide down from time to time…and if her proudly jutting breasts were right there, only inches away from his muscular arm…how could he help but see them?

Sweat began to bead his tanned face when they stopped to survey the deep ravine blocking their path, and she stretched her arms over her head in a graceful spine-popping arch. Even thinking about cupping his hands around her swelling curves was a betrayal of the sacred oath he’d taken, though he knew many priests who’d done more than just think about it. He absolutely would not give into temptation, as so many others had done, and follow through on his lustful fantasies!

He turned to head down into the ravine—but misjudged how close Marlie had moved, and nearly mowed her down. Marlie yelped in surprise, and cartwheeled on her heels before he managed to grab her shoulders and steady her.

They stood there in frozen silence for what seemed like an eternity. Long enough for him to see how her lush breasts were rising and falling in breathless little pants, long enough for him to feel the heat from her body searing right through his sturdy hiking clothes. Long enough for that heat to arrow like lightning into his groin, and spread out in aching waves.

Her rich golden hair was pulled back in a careless ponytail. Would it feel like satin if he curled his long fingers through it? Would the slight rasp of his short beard be an erotic counterpoint if he dared to kiss her, or buried his face between her absolutely gorgeous breasts? Would she…

“Father…?”

Her trembling voice broke his momentary paralysis, and he whirled away with a strangled groan. This whole trip was madness! If he ever made it back to his rectory safe and sound, he was never leading another group of kids into the mountains again!

“We need to go.” His voice emerged husky and strained, and he savagely cleared his throat. “See that big stand of pine trees on the other side of the ravine? We’ll find kindling there.”

Marlie was just as shaken by the intense moment. Her head bobbed up and down in a jerky rhythm. “Okay.”

He skidded down the steep hillside way too fast, with her right at his heels…and that was probably why he didn’t see the big gaping hole half-hidden behind a thick clump of grass until it was far too late. Frantically he back-pedaled, and almost managed to stop his headlong skid…but Marlie was too close, and her feet slipped in a patch of mud.
He felt the shocking impact through every nerve in his body as she slammed into him, and he went flying through the air…
An arrogant cad and self-proclaimed eternal bachelor meets his match. He cuts his swath through dating sites, the bar scene and at work flirting, playing and repeating. He has always been careful, avoiding temptation and entanglement. On the tail end of a business trip, he lets his guard down. Then she walks though his doorway. He does not know that the hunter is about to become the hunted.

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

I'm about ninety-five percent done with this stupid policy letter. I'm pretty much doing it on autopilot, just rattling off the points I want to make about 'this-n-that' in the office before sending it to my office manager for her to read through, finalize and enforce. I just need to get the major points down and I'll let her attach her name to it, that keeps her credibility and power in the office, which means since I trust her to run things when I'm not there, she can run things without having to call and bother me with minutia every five minutes. It took years to find someone with the brains and confidence I needed to fill that role, and months to teach her to do it right. If I was a little more desperate and a lot more stupid I might have hit on her, but good looking as she is, I don't piss where I work. Otherwise with all the hot little pieces of ass walking around I'd have fifty paternity suits against me, I have to be a damn monk at work and suddenly turn that off the second I leave, as I finish the last few points on the 'sexual harassment and fraternization' policy memo I'm finishing. The last paragraph is the dagger making the correction to that sexy little nineteen year old who threw herself at me the week prior, before my manager caught her and metaphorically slapped the shit out of her sending her on her way with her tail between her legs.

Then there is a knock at my door.

I hate it when people pester me when I'm working. It's like they cause a train wreck in my head when they derail my train of thought. I curse profanely and slap my phone to check the time. I mutter aloud, "Shit." It's later than I thought. It's past my dinner time and I'm still working on the time change from the next time zone to the West. I slap the touch pad telling the stupid inadequate machine to save the document before standing.

I compulsively save every time I stand from a document; it's just one of my neuroses.

I push myself back from the desk with a frustrated sigh wondering if this is some idiot who wants to borrow my ice bucket and not return it again. I've still got my khakis and polo on, but I've long since dropped my shoes in favor of the ridiculous five dollar Wal-Mart rubber shower shoe sandals. I navigated around the day old alcohol spill. Then I pass through God knows what sticky crap infests the carpet between the spill and the mattress, spending just long enough from spill to door to consider what could be nastier than the spill I made the night prior that it sticks even after the hotel room's tenant who made that spill is so long gone. The messed-up thing is that unless the place is in a grand opening, no matter the price of the hotel room, I've found some nasty spot somewhere in every room I've ever stayed in, not that this is a 'roach motel' by any means, at a few hundred dollars a night on week days.

I slap the hook handle, slamming the bolt back into the door and rip it open ready to rip someone's ears off for not returning my ice bucket.

There stands my little internet plaything, fussing and entwining her fingers as she rolls them nervously. I'm in shock, silent. She's cuter than I thought she'd be. Not that I haven't seen her in her entirety undressed, but that's over the internet and that's not really real. Her long brown hair lies loose across her shoulders, down her back. Her green eyes look a little nervously up to mine, as she mutters something about, "Sorry I'm late. I got really lost on the way and ended up in the wrong town somewhere. My directions sucked and I well…"
In this, the second book in the "Little Girl Lost Trilogy," Sally Whitmore continues her process of becoming a more self-confident, self-accepting, self-actualized woman by orchestrating a six-week pole-dancing class. Week by week, she grows and evolves, as do her five misfit female students who have come to the class hoping to undo the effects of less-than-desirable lives. As a result, Sally becomes receptive to progressing beyond the losses that plagued her own life like a Greek tragedy.
Driven by the undeniable sexual urgings toward Carlos, a new love of her life, she struggles with trepidations and doubts along with her excitement over him. During this time, Sally's premonition dreams return. Only now they reveal more and actualize sooner than in the past, creating a sense of immediacy. Nearing the brink of self-doubt, Sally is also tormented with the feeling of being watched by an unknown someone not only invading her premonitions, but her everyday life. Caught in a vicious cycle of looking over her shoulder and frustration over what her dreams foretell, Sally finds herself in a life-threatening race against time.

About the Author:
Cindy Hanna is a novelist, freelance writer and authors her own website, www.cindyhanna.com, where she posts a daily blog and interacts with her readers. She resides in southern California with her husband and has four children. An avid athlete, she runs races, ranging in length from 5Ks to full marathons and mud run obstacle courses, across the United States.

It is mid-20th century and thirty-something years old Mildred Simons has reached a point in her life when the unanswered questions which have been plaguing her these past few years have gradually piled up into a mountain of doubts which she fears will somehow overwhelm her. She is a pitiful product of an institutionised bigotry started three generations ago by a misguided bunch of religious zealots. The women and girls lives are dictated by the elders of this strange clan. They exist in a capsule insulated from the rest of society by a strictly taught way of life over which they have no way of rebelling. Her marriage is essentially platonic and she is totally swamped by her older, domineering spouse and his co-elders. The little freedom of movement and decision-making which she has won has been from bitter struggle within the relationship. The mores and values she lives with are those of the late nineteenth as the sect has committed to live an almost Victorian way of life in a world which has been drastically altered by the past four decades of war and depression. Fate decrees that by some strange alchemy she will be brought into contact with a young man some fifteen years her junior who also lives within strict bounds, albeit with a slightly more enlightened religious family. His saving grace in the context of the story is that in the secular co-ed school he attends, he is gradually given a lot of the answers to his natural curiosity by a school colleague who, if anything, is as far from being religious as it can possibly get. In his struggle to come to terms with his upbringing and his natural desires which are being feverishly stoked by his school pal, Gary is slowly but surely breaking from the hidebound strictures which have held him until now. How the two social misfits meet and consolidate their relationship makes intriguing reading. We read how Gary, her emancipator, is himself first initiated into the times of the mid-century; we share his clumsy efforts at trying to match the dubious sophistication of his pal and his first hesitant dealings with the teenage female tormentors who, in their young maturity, are always streets ahead of the gawky boys. We also share the despair which several actions by his one-time friend bring him into the nadir in his young life Along the way we meet not only Garys various tutors but also the hard, almost brassy Mary, who helps direct Mildred in her rebellion. We also see in the beginning of the story how Mildreds antecedents develop into the narrow-minded fanatics who gradually develop their unique system of domination of which she becomes a product. Many readers of a certain generation will recognise in Gary and Mildred some sort of kinship, others, younger by far, will delight in how different is their generation mostly untouched by that early half of the twentieth century. The so-called freedom of the nineteen-sixties is yet to break on society and the story gives a clue as to the whys and where fores of that period eventually had to evolve Celine Dales books do not pull punches. Sex is Sex, and a spade is often called a bloody shovel. If readers cannot face the raw reality of what happens when the human animal gets down and dirty and driven by those incredible inner forces, better stick to the sweet sounds of angelic choirs as romance blossoms between virgins and a tentative hand reaches out to touch the loved ones finger ignoring those wild fires burning under the skin! Enjoy!
EVERY SHADE OF BLACK is the continuing, heart-stopping love story of Sebastian Black and Suzanne Perry-Jackson, both previously introduced in EVERY SHADE OF BLUE, published in 2016. However, the sequel is a stand-alone read. The erotic tale continues as Sebastian, the beautiful blue-eyed surgeon, falls head over heels in love and lust with Suzanne, the stunning blonde mother of teenage twins who is in the process of getting a divorce. Astonishingly handsome, charming and successful, Sebastian has no trouble in finding dates, but abandoned by a violent father as a child, he is haunted by his past. He has always controlled his emotions, had been too scared to commit, and yet in Suzanne he feels he’s discovered the love of his life. But Sebastian believes that before he can truly embrace a future with his soulmate, he needs closure from the brutality that filled his early life. In EVERY SHADE OF BLACK, Sebastian makes the difficult decision to seek out his father which reveals a shocking truth that leads him on a path of self-discovery. Meanwhile, Suzanne has serious complications of her own. Tatiana, her ex-husband’s gorgeous young lover seems determined to ruin Suzanne’s perfect new life. And Angelo, a psychotic, one-night stand who Suzanne encountered briefly before meeting Sebastian, is out there lurking in the shadows ready to make his move. Set in London, Surrey, Vancouver, the snowy delights of Whistler, British Columbia and Dubai, EVERY SHADE OF BLACK is an explicit love story that will leave the reader breathless.
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