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“Outer beauty attracts, but inner beauty captivates.”
― Squeeze Play
― Squeeze Play
“A good friend will come and bail you out of jail, but a best friend will be sitting next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'!”
― Curveball
― Curveball
“I like when you look at me like you can’t figure me out. You’re considering getting to know me, but you’re not sure I’m worth your time.”
― Strike Zone
― Strike Zone
“I believe if something needs to be said, people should say it. Blunt doesn't stab as deep as being cut by a secret.”
― Squeeze Play
― Squeeze Play
“Rat-a-tat-tat."
"Quack."”
―
"Quack."”
―
“Life shifts, sometimes shakes like an earthquake.”
― Squeeze Play
― Squeeze Play
“I'm not looking for love," she tried to explain."If it comes my way, that makes it twice as special.”
― Curveball
― Curveball
“With honesty, what hurts at the moment won't hurt for a lifetime.”
― Squeeze Play
― Squeeze Play
“I bought a big-ass house and haven't decorated it yet," Psycho replied defensively. "Patio furniture looks good in my living room. I don't
have a lamp. The red and green Christmas lights work just fine."
"The lights blink."
"So do I.”
― Squeeze Play
have a lamp. The red and green Christmas lights work just fine."
"The lights blink."
"So do I.”
― Squeeze Play
“Their bodies coupled. Her breasts pressed against his chest and their hip bones rubbed. He curved his arms about her shoulders. She settled her hands at his waist. The man was solid. His muscles taut. She shifted between his legs, flush with his groin. A groin that stirred. Arousal struck hard.
He bent to kiss her.
Just as she stretched up to him.
Time slowed with the exchange of breath.
The heat of his slightly parted lips blew across her mouth.
His unshaved jaw brushed the softer skin of her chin.
Seconds were magnified as each memorized the impact of the moment. It was startling. Unsettling. And unforgettable.
He moved on her without reservation. The pull between them was inescapable. He slanted his mouth over hers, flicked his tongue along her upper lip, and nipped the bottom one. Then sucked both hard. She nearly came out of her skin.
He penetrated her mouth with his tongue. A seductive pulse of slow, then fast. Raking the roof of her mouth, then thrusting deep. He was skilled in kissing. She lost herself in the mating rhythm.”
― The Café Between Pumpkin and Pie
He bent to kiss her.
Just as she stretched up to him.
Time slowed with the exchange of breath.
The heat of his slightly parted lips blew across her mouth.
His unshaved jaw brushed the softer skin of her chin.
Seconds were magnified as each memorized the impact of the moment. It was startling. Unsettling. And unforgettable.
He moved on her without reservation. The pull between them was inescapable. He slanted his mouth over hers, flicked his tongue along her upper lip, and nipped the bottom one. Then sucked both hard. She nearly came out of her skin.
He penetrated her mouth with his tongue. A seductive pulse of slow, then fast. Raking the roof of her mouth, then thrusting deep. He was skilled in kissing. She lost herself in the mating rhythm.”
― The Café Between Pumpkin and Pie
“What are you going to do?” Her voice was breathy.
“I’m going to do you.” He nuzzled her neck.”
― Sweet Spot
“I’m going to do you.” He nuzzled her neck.”
― Sweet Spot
“Celibate? He lived and breathed sex. Considered sex the eighth wonder of the world. Suffering blue balls was for teenagers. Not grown men.”
― Curveball
― Curveball
“He leaned down and kissed her stomach, her hip bones, while his big hands held her in place. Then his mouth was on her, covering her, licking over her clit.
She arched up, crying out as his tongue slid over her folds, making her mindless and crazy. She clutched the pillow, burying her head into the softness as he sucked and licked, nipping over her skin.
She clamped her thighs around his head. Whimpered.
He was going to drive her right over the edge.
His tongue lapped over her clit.
"Jack, stop," she said, her voice harsh and panting. "I'm going to... God... No... I want..."
He didn't stop. Didn't ease up. He just pushed her harder.
His tongue. It was magic.
The condom packet slid off her stomach as she planted her feet and rocked into him. Giving up, surrendering to his will and determination. Everything that made Jack, Jack.
She coiled tight and then she exploded. She bit her lip, stifling her moans as she rode out wave after wave of delicious sensation.
She couldn't think, couldn't put together a sentence, but then he was on her, over her. His palm on her neck, his fingers on her jaw, twisting her face to meet his.
His mouth covered hers.
He tasted like sex.
And lust.
His grasp was tight on her jaw, and the way he kissed her, devoured her, sucked her right back under.
It was a raw, dirty kiss that consumed her. Her fingers came up to where he held her, and she dug her nails into his wrists.
He growled against her lips, biting her, sucking.
And the kiss went on and on and on.
He finally pulled away, grabbed the condom, and tore open the package. He tossed it onto her body again, ridding himself of his sweats, and then he was naked.
And she could only gape at him. Her gaze wide.
He had the best cock she'd ever seen in her life. Long and thick. A work of goddamn art.
She reached for him, but he grabbed her wrist, shaking his head. "I can't wait, Chlo."
He picked up the condom, threw the packet on the floor somewhere and rolled the condom down his hard shaft.
She breathed out his name. "Jack."
He leaned down, kissing her again, soft and sweet. His erection nudged between her legs. "Just let me inside.”
― The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
She arched up, crying out as his tongue slid over her folds, making her mindless and crazy. She clutched the pillow, burying her head into the softness as he sucked and licked, nipping over her skin.
She clamped her thighs around his head. Whimpered.
He was going to drive her right over the edge.
His tongue lapped over her clit.
"Jack, stop," she said, her voice harsh and panting. "I'm going to... God... No... I want..."
He didn't stop. Didn't ease up. He just pushed her harder.
His tongue. It was magic.
The condom packet slid off her stomach as she planted her feet and rocked into him. Giving up, surrendering to his will and determination. Everything that made Jack, Jack.
She coiled tight and then she exploded. She bit her lip, stifling her moans as she rode out wave after wave of delicious sensation.
She couldn't think, couldn't put together a sentence, but then he was on her, over her. His palm on her neck, his fingers on her jaw, twisting her face to meet his.
His mouth covered hers.
He tasted like sex.
And lust.
His grasp was tight on her jaw, and the way he kissed her, devoured her, sucked her right back under.
It was a raw, dirty kiss that consumed her. Her fingers came up to where he held her, and she dug her nails into his wrists.
He growled against her lips, biting her, sucking.
And the kiss went on and on and on.
He finally pulled away, grabbed the condom, and tore open the package. He tossed it onto her body again, ridding himself of his sweats, and then he was naked.
And she could only gape at him. Her gaze wide.
He had the best cock she'd ever seen in her life. Long and thick. A work of goddamn art.
She reached for him, but he grabbed her wrist, shaking his head. "I can't wait, Chlo."
He picked up the condom, threw the packet on the floor somewhere and rolled the condom down his hard shaft.
She breathed out his name. "Jack."
He leaned down, kissing her again, soft and sweet. His erection nudged between her legs. "Just let me inside.”
― The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
“A splash of light snuck beneath the a dressing room door. He heard a groan. A shuffle. A bump. A heavy sigh.
"Uh, too tight."
He walked toward the back, stopping outside the dressing room. The door was cracked a fraction. He rested a shoulder against the wall, and glanced inside. Grace as Catwoman blew his mind. A feline fantasy.
The three-way mirror tripled his pleasure. He viewed her from every angle. Hot, sleek, fierce. The lady could fight Batman in her skintight black leather catsuit and come out the winner.
After a moment she scrunched her nose, slapped her palms against her thighs. Stuck out her tongue at her reflection in the mirrors. He saw what had her so frustrated. Sympathized with her disappointment. Her costume didn't fit. The front zipper hadn't fully cleared her cleavage, which was deep and visible. She wore no bra. She gave a little hop, and her breasts bounced. Full and plump. He felt a tug at his groin. Superhero lust.
He cleared his throat and made his presence known. She caught his image in the corner of the glass, and reached for the fitting room chair, positioning it between them.
Like that would keep him from her. He should've looked away, but couldn't. He sensed her embarrassment. Her panic. Flight? She had nowhere to go. He blocked the door. He wasn't leaving until they'd talked.
"Archibald's going to love your costume," he initiated.
She didn't find him funny. Her gaze narrowed behind the molded cat-eye mask with attached ears. Her fingers clenched in her elbow-length gloves. Inspired by the movie The Dark Knight, she'd added a whip and a gun holster. Her thigh-high stiletto boots were killer, adding five inches to her height. Her image would stick with him forever.
She backed against the center mirror, and nervously fingered the open flaps over her breasts. A yank on the zipper broke the tab. The metal teeth parted, and the gap widened, revealing the round inner curves of her breasts. A hint of her nipples. Dusky pink. All the way down to the dent of her navel.”
― The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
"Uh, too tight."
He walked toward the back, stopping outside the dressing room. The door was cracked a fraction. He rested a shoulder against the wall, and glanced inside. Grace as Catwoman blew his mind. A feline fantasy.
The three-way mirror tripled his pleasure. He viewed her from every angle. Hot, sleek, fierce. The lady could fight Batman in her skintight black leather catsuit and come out the winner.
After a moment she scrunched her nose, slapped her palms against her thighs. Stuck out her tongue at her reflection in the mirrors. He saw what had her so frustrated. Sympathized with her disappointment. Her costume didn't fit. The front zipper hadn't fully cleared her cleavage, which was deep and visible. She wore no bra. She gave a little hop, and her breasts bounced. Full and plump. He felt a tug at his groin. Superhero lust.
He cleared his throat and made his presence known. She caught his image in the corner of the glass, and reached for the fitting room chair, positioning it between them.
Like that would keep him from her. He should've looked away, but couldn't. He sensed her embarrassment. Her panic. Flight? She had nowhere to go. He blocked the door. He wasn't leaving until they'd talked.
"Archibald's going to love your costume," he initiated.
She didn't find him funny. Her gaze narrowed behind the molded cat-eye mask with attached ears. Her fingers clenched in her elbow-length gloves. Inspired by the movie The Dark Knight, she'd added a whip and a gun holster. Her thigh-high stiletto boots were killer, adding five inches to her height. Her image would stick with him forever.
She backed against the center mirror, and nervously fingered the open flaps over her breasts. A yank on the zipper broke the tab. The metal teeth parted, and the gap widened, revealing the round inner curves of her breasts. A hint of her nipples. Dusky pink. All the way down to the dent of her navel.”
― The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
“Although the scent of her body wash lingered, fruity and floral. He breathed it in. Nice.
He grinned then and imagined her standing before him now, naked, her skin damp with dewy droplets. Temptation sinned with the flick of his tongue along her moist neck and the tip of her nipple. Foreplay came in toweling a woman dry. Gently patting down soft breasts, a rub over her belly, and a deep slide between her legs. Arousal teased him unmercifully. He sucked air. His sex thickened. Throbbed. An intractable ache.”
― The Café Between Pumpkin and Pie
He grinned then and imagined her standing before him now, naked, her skin damp with dewy droplets. Temptation sinned with the flick of his tongue along her moist neck and the tip of her nipple. Foreplay came in toweling a woman dry. Gently patting down soft breasts, a rub over her belly, and a deep slide between her legs. Arousal teased him unmercifully. He sucked air. His sex thickened. Throbbed. An intractable ache.”
― The Café Between Pumpkin and Pie
“It would be easier to be smart if I didn't want to be inside you. Didn't want to feel you come."
She shuddered. Sex had always been a subject they'd never discussed. One of those taboo topics they avoided. It was strange to hear him utter those words, say things she'd never envisioned him saying to her, but they lit her on fire. "If we still feel this way on Friday, maybe you will."
His lips brushed her throat, raising the fine hairs there. "I can give you an orgasm and not fuck you.”
― The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
She shuddered. Sex had always been a subject they'd never discussed. One of those taboo topics they avoided. It was strange to hear him utter those words, say things she'd never envisioned him saying to her, but they lit her on fire. "If we still feel this way on Friday, maybe you will."
His lips brushed her throat, raising the fine hairs there. "I can give you an orgasm and not fuck you.”
― The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
“Grace adored Amelia. The older woman was a close friend of her grandmother and mother, and a constant in Grace's life. She visited Amelia often. The inn was her second home.
As a child she'd always raced up the stairs and raided Amelia's bedroom closet, and Amelia had encouraged her unconventional behavior. Grace had loved dressing up in vintage clothing. Attempting to walk up in a pair of high button shoes. Amelia was the first to recognize Grace's love of costume. Her enjoyment of tea parties. She'd supported Grace's dream of opening her business, Charade, when Grace sought a career. From birthdays to holidays, the costume shop was popular and successful. Grace couldn't have been happier.
She admired Amelia now. Her long, braided hair was the same soft gray as her eyes. Years accumulated, but never seemed to touch her. She appeared youthful, ageless, in a sage-green tunic, belted over a paisley gauze skirt in shades of cranberry, green, and gold. Elaborate gold hoops hung at her ears, ones designed with silver beads and tiny gold bells. The thin metal chains on her three-tiered necklace sparkled with lavender rhinestones and reflective mirror discs. Bangles of charms looped her wrist. A thick, hammered-silver bracelet curved near her right elbow. A triple gold ring with three pearls arched from her index finger to her fourth. She sparkled.”
― The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
As a child she'd always raced up the stairs and raided Amelia's bedroom closet, and Amelia had encouraged her unconventional behavior. Grace had loved dressing up in vintage clothing. Attempting to walk up in a pair of high button shoes. Amelia was the first to recognize Grace's love of costume. Her enjoyment of tea parties. She'd supported Grace's dream of opening her business, Charade, when Grace sought a career. From birthdays to holidays, the costume shop was popular and successful. Grace couldn't have been happier.
She admired Amelia now. Her long, braided hair was the same soft gray as her eyes. Years accumulated, but never seemed to touch her. She appeared youthful, ageless, in a sage-green tunic, belted over a paisley gauze skirt in shades of cranberry, green, and gold. Elaborate gold hoops hung at her ears, ones designed with silver beads and tiny gold bells. The thin metal chains on her three-tiered necklace sparkled with lavender rhinestones and reflective mirror discs. Bangles of charms looped her wrist. A thick, hammered-silver bracelet curved near her right elbow. A triple gold ring with three pearls arched from her index finger to her fourth. She sparkled.”
― The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
“The perfectionist in her wanted to be sure he'd done it correctly, so she took a cautious step toward the edge of the roof, only to get here foot caught in the gauze. Cade jerked up on the roll, just as she stepped down. The fabric slipped between her legs. Up her thighs, all the way to her crotch. She froze. Her eyes went wide. Embarrassment colored her cheeks.
"Grace?" Cade's voice was deep, amused, questioning. He gave the webbing a tug, attempting to pull it free. Instead it rubbed intimately, at the crease between her sex and thigh. His gaze on her groin, he gave a second slow pull. His eyes darkened. A muscle jerked in his jaw. His nostrils flared. He rolled his shoulders and released the tautness of the gauze. The clearing of his throat cut the tension, the silence. "Snared in a spider's web," he joked, lightening the moment.”
― The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
"Grace?" Cade's voice was deep, amused, questioning. He gave the webbing a tug, attempting to pull it free. Instead it rubbed intimately, at the crease between her sex and thigh. His gaze on her groin, he gave a second slow pull. His eyes darkened. A muscle jerked in his jaw. His nostrils flared. He rolled his shoulders and released the tautness of the gauze. The clearing of his throat cut the tension, the silence. "Snared in a spider's web," he joked, lightening the moment.”
― The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
“A good memory, I'm sure," Zen returned. "But a memory nonetheless.”
― Squeeze Play
― Squeeze Play
“He was twice her weight in muscle and doubly strong. They still fit as if made for each other.
She hugged him close. He buried his face in her hair. Her neck. Breathed in her scent. Aroused woman and feminine musk.
They moved together.
Uninhibited and indulgent.
Power and pleasure.
He thrust, and she throbbed.
She arched against him.
He strained against her.
A sensation hit him that he hadn't expected.
A sense of oneness settled in his soul.
His rhythmic pace coaxed her, drove her higher.
They climbed fast and were suddenly there.
They came undone.
Both stiffening.
Both shattering.
Both boneless. Mindless. Replete.”
― The Café Between Pumpkin and Pie
She hugged him close. He buried his face in her hair. Her neck. Breathed in her scent. Aroused woman and feminine musk.
They moved together.
Uninhibited and indulgent.
Power and pleasure.
He thrust, and she throbbed.
She arched against him.
He strained against her.
A sensation hit him that he hadn't expected.
A sense of oneness settled in his soul.
His rhythmic pace coaxed her, drove her higher.
They climbed fast and were suddenly there.
They came undone.
Both stiffening.
Both shattering.
Both boneless. Mindless. Replete.”
― The Café Between Pumpkin and Pie
“Grace cut across an Oriental rug done in a plum, navy, and cream geometric pattern. The colors in the carpet pulled the richness of the furniture together. She noticed that Cade walked the perimeter of the room, sticking to the hardwood floor.
Off to the right, a glassed-in sunroom caught the first rays of sunshine from the overcast day. The forest-green wicker furniture, abundant greenery, and a small bookcase with monthly magazines and mystery novels offered peace and solitude.”
― The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
Off to the right, a glassed-in sunroom caught the first rays of sunshine from the overcast day. The forest-green wicker furniture, abundant greenery, and a small bookcase with monthly magazines and mystery novels offered peace and solitude.”
― The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
“Cade released her slowly, running his hand over her hip, and patting her on the butt.
Her cheeks heated. She owed him an apology. She cleared her throat, and with difficulty managed, "I can be pushy---"
"You think?" He cut her no slack.
"I came on too strong. I'm sorry."
"I'm not."
"You're not?"
"We kissed."
"A good enough kiss for you to wear a costume?"
"You could kiss my entire body, and I'd still pass."
His entire body. She'd never considered naked a costume, but it might work for him. She looked him up and down. Licked her lips. Her blush deepened at the thought.
She heard Cade swallow. His gaze was hot and dark; his voice deep and husky. "I've never taken a woman in a storeroom before, but there's always a first time.”
― The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
Her cheeks heated. She owed him an apology. She cleared her throat, and with difficulty managed, "I can be pushy---"
"You think?" He cut her no slack.
"I came on too strong. I'm sorry."
"I'm not."
"You're not?"
"We kissed."
"A good enough kiss for you to wear a costume?"
"You could kiss my entire body, and I'd still pass."
His entire body. She'd never considered naked a costume, but it might work for him. She looked him up and down. Licked her lips. Her blush deepened at the thought.
She heard Cade swallow. His gaze was hot and dark; his voice deep and husky. "I've never taken a woman in a storeroom before, but there's always a first time.”
― The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
“The hoop-style petticoat swung above her knees. She flashed sheer white thigh-high stockings right up to the pretty blue bows. She swatted down her errant skirt. And nearly dropped the shepherd's crook. The triplets hadn't noticed the mishap, but Jake definitely had.
She felt his gaze from behind his mirrored aviators. He cocked his head and grinned. A teasing grin, so sexy and unsettling that she nearly tripped over her own feet.
He edged close, lowered his voice, and said, "Naughty wind peeked up your skirt."
"So did you."
"Nice legs, Peep.”
― The Café Between Pumpkin and Pie
She felt his gaze from behind his mirrored aviators. He cocked his head and grinned. A teasing grin, so sexy and unsettling that she nearly tripped over her own feet.
He edged close, lowered his voice, and said, "Naughty wind peeked up your skirt."
"So did you."
"Nice legs, Peep.”
― The Café Between Pumpkin and Pie
“He liked sex. A lot. Nothing felt better than the hard vibration of a bike between his thighs unless it was the smooth, naked slide into a soft, wet woman.”
― The Café Between Pumpkin and Pie
― The Café Between Pumpkin and Pie
“Moist cake, fresh blueberries, and melt-in-the-mouth frosting. "Best ever." He understood her slow savoring and the licking of her lips.
"I could eat blueberry butter cake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner," she confessed. She tapped her fork on the plate, encouraging him. "There's plenty; have a second bite."
He shook his head; she was his indulgence. All happy, uninhibited, and turned on by cake. "I enjoy dessert now and again," he conceded. "But I'm more of a meat-and-potato guy."
"There's steak and eggs on our breakfast menu," she said. "Gram makes amazing home fries. Sliced potatoes, chopped onions, and sweet bell peppers cooked in bacon fat. Don't get me started on her buttermilk biscuits.”
― The Café Between Pumpkin and Pie
"I could eat blueberry butter cake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner," she confessed. She tapped her fork on the plate, encouraging him. "There's plenty; have a second bite."
He shook his head; she was his indulgence. All happy, uninhibited, and turned on by cake. "I enjoy dessert now and again," he conceded. "But I'm more of a meat-and-potato guy."
"There's steak and eggs on our breakfast menu," she said. "Gram makes amazing home fries. Sliced potatoes, chopped onions, and sweet bell peppers cooked in bacon fat. Don't get me started on her buttermilk biscuits.”
― The Café Between Pumpkin and Pie
“Opening the box, they withdrew the thick plastic grave markers. His lips twitched as he scanned the epitaphs: R.I.P. Van Winkle, Dee Cayed, I.M. Gone, and Barry R. Bones. "Dracula, Fangs for the Memories," he read aloud and, chuckled.
Grace held up her favorite. "Rigger Mortys. Death Grips and Holds Me Tight, But I Shall Return on Halloween Night."
Tongue-in-cheek, he asked her, "What would your headstone say?"
"She Threw a Great Party," came to mind. "How about yours?"
"Death by Decorating.”
― The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
Grace held up her favorite. "Rigger Mortys. Death Grips and Holds Me Tight, But I Shall Return on Halloween Night."
Tongue-in-cheek, he asked her, "What would your headstone say?"
"She Threw a Great Party," came to mind. "How about yours?"
"Death by Decorating.”
― The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
