Blurb:
Flynn Gifford is enjoying a simple existence in a rural Derbyshire village when Caroline Rogers crashes into his life, barefoot and panicked.
Their lives could hardly be more different—she owns a successful luxury hotel chain, and he’s a penniless nomad who’s off the grid—yet neither can deny the attraction that burns between them. As Caroline reluctantly starts to open up to him, Flynn finds himself divulging some secrets of his own, secrets he thought he’d take to his grave.
But can a billionaire and a wild man ever make a relationship work, or will their secrets keep them apart?
Buy links:
*****
Excerpt:
Finally,
I check the towel is still securely in place and head downstairs in search of
Carrie. I’ve left the foam and razor in the bathroom for now. I can go back and
get them when I’m dressed. I don’t really want to carry a sharp item around
when I’m wearing nothing but terrycloth. One slip and I could do myself some
real damage. The thought makes me wince.
“Carrie?”
I say quietly, aware that her mother could have come home early. Or, given
she’s a control freak, popped home at random to make sure her daughter isn’t
misbehaving. “Carrie?” I repeat, a little louder.
“In
here,” comes a voice. Sounds like she’s in the kitchen. I head there, and sure
enough, she’s standing at the stove, stirring something in a saucepan. It
smells good.
“I
hope you don’t mind,” she says, glancing over her shoulder at me, “but I
thought better of going to the pub. It seems everyone in this godforsaken
village knows my business, and if I’m seen with you, the news will get back to
my mum before our bums even hit the seats. And, before you get the wrong idea,
I don’t mean that I’m embarrassed to be seen with you. I just don’t want anyone
knowing my business, who I’m spending time with. I’d feel the same if I was
stepping out with Benedict Cumberbatch.”
I
haven’t got the faintest idea who this Bendybum Cabbagepatch is, but I’m glad
she said that, because I was starting
to get the wrong idea. If I wasn’t mostly naked, I’d have considered walking
out. Instead, I shrug. “It’s okay, I understand. It can’t be nice to be in your
situation and have everyone know about it, whether you want them to or not.
Don’t worry about it. Am I gonna be able to get dressed before we eat?”
Pausing
her stirring momentarily, she steps away from the cooker and over to the
washing machine. “Looks as though this’ll be done in a few minutes—good job you
put it on a quick wash—and then I’ll stick ‘em in the tumble drier. So probably
not. It’s only soup I’ve got heating, so it won’t take long. You’ll just have
to be careful.”
She
grins at me, her gaze flicking momentarily down to the area covered by the
towel. Which, I realize, isn’t as much as I’d hoped. On a smaller guy, the
white material would reach down to the knee area. On me, it’s way farther up my
thigh than is decent. If Carrie’s mother walks in now, I’m going to give her a
heart attack.
“I’ll
be careful,” I say tightly, resisting the temptation to tug at the towel. I’ll
only end up pulling the damn thing off altogether, and that will definitely not
give the right impression.
“Okay,”
she says brightly, moving back to her task. “Could you get the bowls and
spoons, please? I’ve already put mats out on the table.”
On
instinct, I look at the table, then back at Carrie. All I see is the back of
her, her glossy hair, a little messy from her tough day, waist nipping in just
right and flaring back out to perfectly proportioned hips and luscious bottom…
“Yep!”
I say, too hastily, moving over and pressing myself against the cupboards to
her right before I get a suspicious tent in the material covering my crotch.
Damn it, so much for not doing anything sexual. The woman’s given me two
hard-ons in half an hour. “Where are they?”
Fortunately,
she doesn’t glance up from what she’s doing, merely points. “Spoons in there.
And bowls up there.”
“No
problem.” I set about the task quickly, then sit down at the table and continue
watching her, my groin area now happily hidden beneath the table. “It smells
great.”
“Thanks,
but I can’t take credit. It’s just chicken soup, out of a tin. We don’t even
have any bread to go with it, I’m afraid. If I’d known, I’d have gotten some
from the shop.”
“Hey,
don’t worry. I’m very grateful for what you’re doing, really I am. All I had to
look forward to was a freeze-dried meal. So hot soup’s very civilized.
Practically gourmet.”
“Freeze-dried?”
She turns to me, saucepan in hand. “You mean one of those plastic bags you pour
hot water into?” Her expression makes it perfectly clear what she thinks about
that.
“Yes,”
I reply, smiling gratefully as she pours the soup into my bowl. “Thank you.
They’re not that bad, though. I’ve had worse.”
“Really?”
She’s filled her own bowl now, put the saucepan in the sink and taken her place
at the table. “Where at? McDonald’s?” Grinning, she picks up her spoon. We
continue our conversation in between blowing on and eating the delicious soup.
“Even
worse than McDonald’s.”
“Not
possible.”
“Trust
me, it is.”
“Then
tell me about it.”
Bugger.
I should have known this line of chatter would bring her to that question. If
our roles had been reversed, I would have been curious, too. “Another time,
maybe.”
“Seriously?
You know about how I ended up stuck here, and how the whole village knows my
sorry state of affairs. I think you owe me at least a snippet of your life
story.”
I
stifle a sigh, take my time scooping up more of the broth and supping it.
“Okay, okay. You’re right. But you might not like it.”
Keeping Secrets by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985)
I can’t divulge too much here without giving lots away about Carrie and Flynn and their respective pasts, but let’s just say they both have secrets. Yes, I know it’s ironic that I’m keeping secrets about their secrets, but you don’t want me to give you spoilers, do you?
Anyway. After their unexpected meeting, the pair strike up a surprising friendship, and—this isn’t a spoiler, really, ‘cos, you know, it’s an erotic romance, so the romance is kind of implied—find themselves attracted to each other. But as I mentioned in an earlier post on this tour, they really do rub each other up the wrong way. And they both find it difficult to trust. Aaaaand they’re both ashamed of their respective secrets. So it’s hardly a surprise that they’re not in a sharing mood, is it? Nope—they clamp down tight and keep their pasts to themselves. Which is fine, I guess, given they’ve only just met. I don’t make a habit of divulging stuff to people I don’t know very well.
But what happens when their secrets and their pasts start to seriously affect their present and their future? And their present and future together? Do they even have a future together? I guess it depends if they can overcome their hurdles. Which, yes, you’ve guessed it, are the secrets. So what are their bloody secrets already?
You’ll just have to read the book and find out, won’t you? ;)
*****
*****
Author
Bios:
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), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love
Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller) and The Persecution of the Wolves. Including
novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 150 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 or Facebook. Sign up for
automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. You can also
subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9
Victoria
Blisse:
Victoria Blisse is a Mother, Wife,
Christian, Manchester United Fan and Award Winning Erotica Author and
all round Cheeky Wench. She is also the editor of several Bigger
Briefs collections, and the co-editor of the fabulous Smut
Alfresco, Smut by the Sea (Vol.1), Smut by the Sea (Vol.2), Smut
by the Sea (Vol.3), and Smut in the City Anthologies.
She is the mistress of Smut UK putting on
Smut Events, Days & Evenings dedicated to erotica, socializing, fun and
prizes. Check out Smut Nights, Smut by the Sea: Scarborough,
and Smut Manchester for more info.
Born near Manchester, England, her northern
English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories along with her own
particular brand of humour and romance that bring laughs and warm fuzzies in
equal measure.
Passion, love and laughter fill her works,
just as they fill her busy life.
*****
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Amazon Best Selling Author Kathy Coopmans, lives in Michigan with her husband Tony where they have two grown sons.
