Mean Girls, a M/F
erotic romance by Lucy Felthouse, with Rubenesque and body confidence themes,
has been re-released with a stunning new cover and a lower price! Please note,
however, if you’ve read it before, that the content hasn’t changed.
*****
Blurb:
Adele Blackthorne is a
big girl, a curvy chick. She knows it, and she’s been picked on all her life
because of it. But she’s gotten to the stage where she doesn’t care. She may be
Rubenesque, but she’s healthy, too. Much healthier than the mean girls at the
leisure center that point and stare and say spiteful things about her. Adele
rises above it all, and simply enjoys her secretive glances at the center’s
hunky lifeguard, Oliver.
As the bullying of Adele
becomes worse, Oliver finds it increasingly difficult not to intervene. He
doesn’t want to get into trouble with work, but equally he can’t stand to see
Adele treated in such a horrible way. Especially since he doesn’t agree that she’s
fat and unattractive. He thinks she’s a seriously sexy woman, and would like to
get to know her better. Much better.
Buy links:
Amazon: http://mybook.to/meangirls
All Romance eBooks: http://bit.ly/29USu5p
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/29NMwE1
iBooks UK
iBooks US
Kobo: http://bit.ly/29H4e8E
Smashwords: http://bit.ly/29HNIeH
Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18147145-mean-girls
*****
Excerpt:
As usual, Adele
Blackthorne felt the weight of gazes on her as she walked from the changing
room to the steps to get into the swimming pool. She was used to it by now, and
had learned not to react, to just carry on as though she hadn’t noticed people
staring and not-so-subtly pointing at her.
With a polite nod to
Oliver, the lifeguard, as she passed him, Adele was grateful for his much more
favorable reaction. If he thought she resembled a beached whale, he hid it much
better than everyone else did. The warmth in his eyes as he nodded back even
looked genuine. But she had no illusions, he probably slagged her off the
moment he got into the staffroom, or home, talking about the fat woman who went
swimming three times a week without fail. But for now, she’d pretend he didn’t.
Pretend he thought she was sexy, and wanted to get lost in her abundant curves.
God knows she’d like him to.
It was true, she was a
big girl and she was most definitely aware of it. Ever since she’d gotten to
the age where her excess weight could no longer be called puppy fat, she’d
tried to do something about it. Every diet under the sun, ridiculous amounts of
exercise… nothing worked. Adele had grown so depressed in her teens that she’d
become bulimic. Naturally, she’d lost some weight that way, but she’d also made
herself so ill that she’d had to be hospitalized. It had terrified the life out
of her, and ever since, she’d resolved that she’d much rather be healthy than
skinny.
Which was why she
visited her local leisure center three times a week. She used the gym and
sauna, and went swimming. And every single time she went, she’d catch someone
gawping at her. But because of the years she’d spent—especially at school—being
called all the names under the sun, she’d developed an incredibly thick skin.
She was happy and healthy—so healthy in fact that she could probably beat all
of those skinny bitches at a swimming race. Of course she never offered, never
called anyone out on their rudeness and ignorance, but it made her feel better
to know that she was fitter and much more polite than them.
Slipping into the fast
lane, she settled her goggles carefully into position—she hated getting water
in her eyes—then lifted her legs to rest the bottoms of her feet against the
end of the pool. Looking at the clock on the wall that counted seconds, she
waited until the hand reached the top, then pushed off from the side and
launched herself into the lane. It was quiet, so she had this section of the
pool to herself. Her arms cut through the water, her legs flapped wildly and
she did ten laps without losing any speed. Emerging from the water, she checked
the clock again and was pleased to note she’d beaten her previous time.
She was just about to start
another ten laps, when she heard voices from the other side of the pool. Voices
that clearly forgot how well they carried on water. It was as though they were
right next to her.
“God, I’m surprised all
the water doesn’t jump out of the pool when she gets in. And the way she
swims—she’ll cause a tidal wave one of these days.”
The spiteful words were
followed by a trio of sniggers, and Adele gritted her teeth. Part of her wished
that she could create a bloody tidal wave, so it would sweep those bitches
under water and drown them. The other part of her tsked at the thought. Ideas
like that made her just as bad as them, just as unpleasant, just as cowardly.
Because they were
cowardly—the way they spoke about her behind her back proved that. If they ever
passed her somewhere in the leisure center or its car park, they never said
anything, not one word. They’d just scurry away as fast as they could, then
titter when they thought she was out of earshot. She hoped that just one time,
someone would say something to her face, so she could retaliate, speak up for
herself. There was no way she’d start anything—she didn’t want to add
confrontational to the list of faults that the mean girls had obviously
compiled about her.
Sucking in a deep
breath, Adele launched into another ten laps, allowing the chilly water and the
exertion of powering through it to burn away her irritation. Because that’s all
it was—irritation. She wasn’t angry. Anger was too powerful an emotion, and one
that was totally wasted on those ignorant women. She almost felt sorry for
them, actually. If they had nothing better to do than to stare at her and slag
her off all the time, then they clearly had very dull lives.
The thought cheered her
considerably and when she completed her twentieth lap, she lay her forearms on
the edge of the pool and hoiked herself up. Her back was pressed against the
side, and from here she had a perfect view of the rest of the pool. Tugging her
goggles down so they hung around her neck, she had a damn good look at everyone
else. The small children and their guardians in the kids’ pool right at the
other end of the enormous hall, the old people who swum so slowly as they
chatted that she was surprised they stayed afloat, the relentless movement of
the man in the medium-speed lane and, of course, the mean girls who were in the
same sort of position she was, but at the side of the pool rather than the end.
The side which faced the lifeguard station.
Adele narrowed her eyes
and watched them—the two waif-like blondes and a brunette—as they chatted and
giggled, and it seemed for a change, not about her. They’d clearly changed the
subject since their previous spouting of vitriol. Their focus was very firmly
on Oliver as he sat on his lofty perch, surveying the pools before him, ready
to jump in should anyone get into trouble. She often toyed with the idea of
faking a problem, just to get him into the pool and his strong arms around her.
However, she knew that although he’d undoubtedly do his duty and help her, he’d
never believe such a strong swimmer would need his assistance. Then he’d lose
all respect for her, and probably stop hiding his disdain for her so
effectively. And the polite nods and smiles she got from him were the only
thing—aside from the center’s top-notch facilities—that made the place
bearable. She was sure that if the three witches—a nickname she’d secretly come
up with for the women—had their way, there would be a sign on the main doors to
the building saying ‘No Fat People Allowed.’
*****
About Lucy Felthouse
Lucy
Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of
Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an
Amazon bestseller) and Eyes Wide Open (winner
of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon
bestseller). Including novels, short
stories and novellas, she has over 140 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about
her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk,
or on Twitter and Facebook. You can also
subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9
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