Hi Delilah fans! Thanks for joining me today.

February is a special month for romance fans. To celebrate love, we give gifts and cook special meals, indulge in chocolate and sexy lingerie. I’m here to share a sexy little story with you, something that might start your engines running so you’re ready for your hot Valentine’s Day moments.

This story is an offshoot of Jarrod Bancroft: The Novel, which will be half price all day Valentine’s Day at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/535279.

But first—this month in my free monthly newsletter Liz’s Hot News, I outline five FREE ways to show your love to your significant other. I’d love to share my newsletter with you, and if you sign up by February 14, you’ll be in the drawing for a $20 gift certificate.

For more details on entering this drawing and other goodies, check the links at the end of this story.

Jarrod’s Valentine

Macie’s face reflected the subdued outdoor light that filtered in through the restaurant window. Ignoring the clench in his chest, Jarrod studied her from across the noisy room. She looked like a work of art, the planes and lines of her face cast in shadow, her delicate skin framed by luxurious lengths of dark hair. One of those exquisite images painted by some long-dead artist where the woman’s pensive expression signaled vague internal conflict. His impulse was to rush over to the table, take her hands, and slip to his knees to ask what he could do to brighten her day. His mouth twisted and he turned back to his newspaper.

Whatever appetites Macie Fitzgerald provoked, today the situation at Bancroft Investments demanded his full attention. The stock report only reiterated what he already knew—their standing had slipped again. Somehow rumors had leaked. It was a matter of time before this blew wide open.

He quietly folded the paper, signaled the waiter and paid his check before slipping out the side door. Much as he wanted Macie right now, the ugly responsibilities in his real life could not wait.

The door to his dad’s office was slightly ajar. His father stood at the windows in the far corner, his back turned as he stared out into the city. The older man’s shoulders triggered Jarrod’s memory, all the times those same shoulders had loomed over him, an impenetrable wall of dark against dim light. An immovable object. Jarrod swallowed an ugly taste in his mouth. And it had nothing to do with his lunch.

So the bastard already knew.

“Took your time,” the old man said. He didn’t bother to turn. “You’ve never appreciated the value of a full day’s work.”

“Fuck you, Preston,” Jarrod said. He slipped off his overcoat and dropped it on the chair. He stood beside the desk and folded his arms, facing his father’s back.

“What do you plan to do?” Preston said. “Are you riding your white horse, ready to save the world?”

“Anything to sidestep the facts,” Jarrod said. “That’s been your strategy all along. I remember my first weeks here, when I went through the files for that mutual fund and asked you, and you shifted blame to Evers. Always somebody else’s fault. Always something I made up or misinterpreted.”

“So you’re going to bring the house down around our ears, is that the plan?”

“You assigned me the dirty work thinking I wouldn’t put it together.” Jarrod spun the desk chair around and gripped the thick leather back. “I’ve dug all the way down. I’m not buying any more of your bullshit.”

Preston whirled to face him. The flesh around his nose had turned white. “Whine, you little fuck. You have no idea. I’ve worked my ass off, dedicated my life to giving you and your mother the very best. I don’t answer to you.”

Jarrod swallowed his rage, sinking his fingers into the chair upholstery to keep from planting a fist in that smug face. The man might be a despicable cheat, but he was his father. “You’ll answer to the prosecutor. Evers won’t take this sitting down.”

“Evers is as big a baby as you are. Suck it up, boy. This is how things get done.”

Jarrod closed his eyes then slammed out of the room. Nothing he could say would change Preston Bancroft. Why had it taken him twenty-eight years to accept that fact?

Odd how familiar this all felt. As if he’d seen it in a dream. As if he’d wished it a thousand times and only now realized what he wished. He strode to his office and slid open his desk drawers looking for anything that might hold value, but after a few minutes, he grabbed his overcoat and stalked out. Read the rest of this entry »

UPDATE: The winner is Armenia Fox!

* * * * *

Today’s guest is missing, so I thought I’d give you a little sexy creamer to go with your coffee…

Sorry, did you just snort your coffee? Was that too crude? I’m in one of those moods today. I have to make one final pass through my latest Stepbrothers Stepping Out story—this one is “With His Friends”—before I can ship it to the formatter. The plan is to have it on Amazon this Friday! But in the meantime, I’m “suffering” (LOL!) through a sexy foursome. Yes, I know the cover makes it look as though it ought to be a fivesome, but there’s only a hint of that in the story. Here’s a sneak peek at the cover:

And while you’re waiting for Friday to roll around, I’m sharing a sexy snippet from another naughty stepbrother story. If you’d like a chance to win a copy of With His Professor, answer me this:

If you read them, what do you like about menage stories?

An excerpt from Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Professor…

When a stripper confronts a professor about her stepbrother’s grade, she’s determined to find a way to change his mind. Making the grade has never been sexier…

Outwardly, the clothing I wore was respectable. But underneath, I wore nothing except for the straps Darien had fastened around my waist and upper thighs, which held the vibrator in place.

His idea. The remote was in his pocket.

We strode down the long, dark hallway, not glancing at each other directly but from the corners of our eyes, and I knew he could see the smirk kicking up one side of my mouth.

A hum sounded, and a vibration shot through me, causing my jaw to sag and my lids to lower.

Darien clicked off the remote, clamped a hand on my ass and pushed me forward.

We’d decided to play. No plan really. But we were ready in case there was even a flicker of interest from the handsome professor. Just the thought of what was under my short skirt was enough to fuel our excitement.

His door creaked open, a student stepped out, his gaze going to Darien, to whom he gave a nod, and then I drew his attention, and I gave him a sultry smile. He halted in his tracks, and I turned my head to watch him as I passed, enjoying the fact that he continued to stare after me.

I knew I looked good. Short black skirt, flirty knee-high boots, a powder blue sweater with one large button fastened between my boobs that hugged my upper chest, and it was obvious from the pout of my nipples I wasn’t wearing a bra.

Darien knocked on the door. The sound within was muffled, but my brother pushed inside then held the door to let me precede him.

Professor Allcock’s expression tightened, his gaze going from Darien to my chest, and back to Darien. He settled deeper in his chair and regarded both of us with a wary gaze.

I took a seat.

“I’ve finished the paper,” Darien said, and bent over the professor’s desk to slide it across. From the side, the sight of his erection tenting his pants made me grin.

When I raised my gaze, I found myself caught by the professor whose eyebrows were lowered. He knew he was being hunted. But I couldn’t read him to know whether he was into this, into us, or just irritated.

“You must be warm this evening,” he said, his gaze going to my sweater.

My heart  began to pound, because I understood his unspoken command. “I am warm,” I said, and flicked open the button. The sides parted, but only revealed a bare strip down my middle.

And because, for the moment, I had his undivided attention, I leaned back and opened my legs.

Darien coughed, which sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

The professor’s frown stayed in place, but his gaze snagged on the sight I revealed.

A hum began, so loud there was no chance the man across the desk missed it. Pleasure quivered through me. I gasped, settled deeper in my chair, and parted my legs farther.

The professor cleared his throat then pulled the paper closer.

The men commenced talking about the paper while I grew warm and wet and squirmed a little on my seat. When I leaned back, I opened my sweater fully to let the cool air tease my nipples. Exposed, my desire quickly ratcheted up.

Darien reached across and pinched my inner thigh. His head turned, and he gave me a blistering glare. “Not until I say.” Then he returned to the conversation.

The professor seemed to take it all in stride, his gaze skimming the paper and asking questions, but now and then, he’d glance at my pussy.

Was he afraid I’d wet the upholstery? Did he like what he saw? The mystery fueled my desire, and I took short breaths through pursed lips to hold onto my composure.

The professor slid open a drawer. He held out a hand toward me. “You left these the other night.”

My sequined pasties lay on his palm. I picked them up, letting my fingers slide on his skin, but he drew calmly away, as though he’d just handed me a pencil.

The vibrator’s speed increased, and I bit my lip, fighting the urge to climax.

“May I?” the professor said, holding out his hand.

Darien handed him the control.

And now, any pretending they were actually talking about the merits of Darien’s paper disappeared. Both males stared as I gripped the chair’s arms and scrunched my features because I was close. So fucking close.

The vibrator stopped, and I widened my eyes. His gaze was narrowed. His cheeks flushed. He leaned to the side, and the sound of another drawer, this one lower down and sliding open, filled the small room.

When he straightened in his chair, he held a pointer, a long one he would have used to point to a screen as he lectured. He passed it to Darien then swung his gaze back to me. One brow rose—a challenge thrown down?

I pushed up and stood on wobbly legs. Then never letting my gaze stray from his, I raised my skirt to my waist and bent over his desk. He was deprived of the sight of my ass and swollen pussy, but he didn’t seem to mind. He leaned back in his chair, wearing a small, tight smile.

The first stroke of that thin wooden wand made me gasp. It felt like a switch. Stung like a bitch. Another stroke, and I cried out. The professor held out the remote, his thumb hovering over the button.

My gaze locked with his as another strike stung me, and then he hit the remote, and the vibrator quivered to life. My pussy closed around it, making a wet, slurpy sound.

His gaze dropped to his crotch.

Mine followed.

His cock strained against the fabric of his dark slacks. If he’d opened them, I’d have begged to suck him, but he merely rubbed himself slowly, as he hit the trigger again and quickened the hum.

Darien slashed me one last time, and I couldn’t stop myself, I bit my lower lip to muffle a cry as my orgasm slammed through me.

Slowly, I came back to awareness. Darien was wiping my thighs and pussy with tissues the professor handed him. What was said between the two men, I didn’t care. The professor stood, and Darien pulled me upright, fastening the button of my sweater and tugging down my skirt to cover my sex and my ass. He rubbed my bottom, and I gasped at the welts he’d left. Welts my customers would see when I danced the next night. But I didn’t care.

*~*~*

Check out more sexy stepbrothers erotic romances:

Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Partner
Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Boss

“If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older.”
~Abraham Sutzkever

 At least, that’s the hope, right? When I watch Peter Pan, that sentiment is how I connect. He never grows old; never loses his sense of wonder for the world. I feel that connection to him, because everywhere I go, even if the place isn’t as wondrous as Neverland, I find something “sparkly” about it. I make something “sparkly” of my environment.

I never liked Wendy because I thought she acted like a little old lady. Sure, you’d want to come back to your mom and dad (uh, maybe, I’d really be tempted to stay in Neverland!), but did she have to be such a fussbudget? A little old woman in a little girl’s body? But you know people like that, don’t you? No matter the age, they’re old. Responsibility over spark. Vegetables before desert.

Are we a mixture of both? I think my daughter is. She’d probably say I’m too much Peter, not enough Wendy. How about you?

Are you more Peter than Wendy? Would you stay in Neverland?

Are there ways we can hold on to our inner youth? Oil of Olay is fine, but how do you keep your inner child from drying up like a prune?

Reunions.

What does that word bring to mind? Gathering for a family picnic on the Fourth of July? Losing a few pounds before you party with people you haven’t seen since high school graduation? Running into a former crush while you’re in your oldest sweats with no makeup on and standing in the line at the grocery store?

Any of the above situations can make for a great story filled with peril…or promise.

Who hasn’t heard about feuding cousins who buried the hatchet and became friends at a family reunion? Or the high-school sweethearts who found each other again—and tied the knot—after thirty years apart?

Romance novels often revolve around a reunion plot. I love that story line and include it in many of my books.

Obviously, one of the most important elements of a story, especially a romance, is getting and keeping the main characters together in a believable, uncontrived way. A reunion is a great way to accomplish that.

But this type of story is so much more than a ready plot device, a handy trope, a fallback for characters who need a quick and maybe cute intro.

One of the things I love best about a reunion story is that it brings together characters who have a past in common. Just think of the possibilities in that: two people with a history together.  Shared memories.  Unresolved conflicts.  Unforgiven and unforgivable hurts.

If that’s not good material for a relationship story, I don’t know what is!

In my opinion, a reunion plot makes for a richer, more complex story. It gives us a chance to see how two people who once walked away from each other can grow and change and improve. And best of all, it lets us see how those people who once made a mistake get a second chance.

My first published book, The Sheriff’s Son, is being reissued in new formats today. (Info on that below.) Just for fun, I’ve included before-and-after covers with this post.

The book is—you guessed it!—a reunion story. Sarah and Tanner were high-school sweethearts until the night of graduation, when he broke her heart. Here’s a clip from the beginning of the book with that all-important first meeting:

If one more straw would snap the camel’s back, as Daddy used to say, then one more debt, one more unplanned doctor visit, one more call from Kevin’s school ought to bring down a whole herd of cattle.

The thought of her son made Sarah sigh again. It was only a few weeks into the new school year, and in that short time, he’d given her more grief than in all seven years of his life combined.

At the sound of the bell over the bookstore’s front door, she smoothed the loose curls escaping from her braid and, ran a hand over the front of her dress. Halfway through the office doorway, she froze. Her mouth hung open, the greeting she’d intended to call out shriveling on her tongue, sliding back down her throat, curdling in her stomach.

Her “one more straw” had arrived.

A man stood at the front of the store, framed between a pair of ceiling-height bookcases.

Tanner Jones seemed to fill her vision, standing taller and more broad-shouldered than she ever remembered, but looking, unfortunately, all too familiar. Except for the deputy sheriff’s badge decorating his chest and the gun resting on his hip.

A frown rumpled his brow and his hand gripped the back of a bright blue T-shirt, pulling up with just enough pressure to keep the boy inside the shirt dancing on tiptoe.

A single mother’s worst nightmare. Doubled.

The son she never wanted to see in trouble.

The man she’d once loved. Once lost. And never wanted to see again.

~~

Hope you enjoyed the clip. I would love to hear your thoughts about reunion romances!

I’m giving away one reader’s choice of an autographed print copy of this book in the original version or one of my available backlist titles. (US mailing addresses only, please). To get your name in the hat, share a reunion story—one of your own or of someone you know.

Leave your comment by Friday, and a winner’s name will be posted in the comments over the weekend.

About the Author

Barbara White Daille lives with her husband in the sunny Southwest. Though they love the warm winters and the lizards in their front yard, they haven’t gotten used to the scorpions in the bathroom.

Barbara’s new series, The Hitching Post Hotel, features a matchmaking grandpa determined to see his three granddaughters wed. The series began with The Cowboy’s Little Surprise, and the latest book is The Lawman’s Christmas Proposal (just released in December). Cowboy in Crisis will debut in July 2016, with other books in the series to follow.

Her first book, The Sheriff’s Son, has been reissued (today! J ) in both larger print and a new e-book version, available exclusively from Harlequin:  http://bit.ly/TSS-LP-HB.  The original version is also still available at most major e-tailers, including Amazon: http://www.amzn.com/B00N79F94I.

Find Barbara online:

Website  http://www.barbarawhitedaille.com
Newsletter  http://www.barbarawhitedaille.com/newsletter
Twitter  https://twitter.com/BarbaraWDaille
Facebook  http://www.facebook.com/barbarawhitedaille

Thank you, Delilah, and thank you everyone for stopping by.

When Delilah agreed to host me back in December, I had something completely different in mind as my topic. However, on December 24^th I received an early Christmas present…a positive biopsy result for breast cancer. What makes this suck even more (and yes, as a writer I should find a more eloquent word than ‘suck’…but simply put…it does suck!) is that this is my second time.

I’m not going to get into all the ugly and crappy (another under-used but perfectly descriptive word) things that surround this diagnosis, because that isn’t me. Fourteen years ago, I had to delay my first chemo appointment by a week because I was going through a divorce, moving out of my marital home, and celebrating my 36^th birthday.  But through this all, I stayed positive.

…And that is what I want to write about.

Yes, being diagnosed a second time with the dreaded “c” sucks and is crappy, but I’m not going to let it get me down or hold me back.  I’ve had a few friends…which is a ‘few’ too many…that were diagnosed with breast cancer after my first experience.  I told them all, I can’t guarantee that a positive attitude will help, but a negative one will certainly pull you down.

This time around, I have to say, I disagree. A positive attitude does help! I know my husband and many of my close friends were devastated to hear this news. My daughter didn’t know what to do…she was only 4 the first time through, and once this Christmas vacation was done she was heading back to university, a 2.5 hour flight away. And my mom, well this should never happen to your children—certainly not twice—and it doesn’t matter if they are 5, 15 or 50. But I am keeping a positive outlook that things will go as smoothly this time as last. I’m hoping to fly to Nova Scotia at the end of February, between what I believe will be my first two chemo appointments, to see my daughter play in her first university volleyball finals. And while I took time off from work last time, I have actually decided to work through my procedures this time (as long as my health or my doctor doesn’t say otherwise.)  My point here? NONE of my friends have given me the weepy face that often occurs when you tell people you have cancer. How can they think or act negative when I refuse to be brought down by it?

So whether it’s an illness, writing a book, or just living your life…stay positive. Think about the good things that lie ahead, or what’s the point? And whether you believe in God or chocolate to help get you through, surround yourself with positive things and positive people….because negative will definitely pull you down.

p.s. My 3 inch tumor was bigger than expected but my nodes were clean which means no spread. I don’t get the final results until 02/05…when I also get my chemo schedule, but in the meantime I have signed another contract with Wild Rose Press for a fantasy short, Love Supernaturally, and am waiting on a 2^nd contract from my YA publisher, Boroughs, for my Young Adult novella, California Blue. I continue to work, write, craft, dream and plan.

REAL LOVE (A Candy Hearts Story)

Her eyes and heart are open to new worlds and new possibilities.

 

 

As a young girl, Monda was placed into the tutelage of Mistress Teevac. Trained to use her empathic skills and educated in the ways to please a man, Monda is on her way to her new mate and master when her spaceship crashes. Rescued by a handsome space lieutenant, who literally makes her heart race, Monda’s eyes and heart are opened to new possibilities.

When Lieutenant Patrick Lancaster looks at the exotic Monda, he sees beautiful not alien. With an instinct to protect her and the desire to have her, he’d be honored to call her his own, but the starts have something else in mind. Or do they?

Excerpt:

Her face more angular than most. Her lips, thick. A constant pout, like she waited to be kissed. When he looked at her big blue eyes and long blue eyelashes, he thought exotic, not alien.

“Monda.” He reached to wipe the tear. No, it was not his place. He shoved his hand into his pocket. “I didn’t mean you. I don’t think of you as alien. I meant other aliens, like the green guys from Salvador. Have you seen them? About a meter high with pointed teeth. You can’t tell the males from the females except when they have their armor off.” He wanted to pull her into a hug. To comfort her and show her how sorry he felt. But she was promised to another, and while he might be an idiot, his mother also raised him as a gentleman. “Really, Monda, I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“What I mean is you’re an alien but not an alien. You don’t look like an alien. Of course any guy would be honored to have a girlfriend like you.”

“Any guy, but you.”

Buy Links:

Wild Rose Press: http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=195&products_id=6593

About the Author:

Charlotte Copper lives in Stouffville, Ontario – that’s in Canada, eh. When she isn’t working at her full-time job, Charlotte likes to craft, read, go to movies, and, of course, write. Charlotte hopes to have all of her stories published some day because, as a romance writer, she believes in happy endings!

Contact Information:
Email:  charlottecopper.author@gmail.com
Website:  http://charlottecopperauthor.com
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/charlotte.copper.52
Twitter::  @charlottecopper   https://twitter.com/CharlotteCopper

Lately, I’ve become a bit more analytical in my thinking about books. One of the things I’ve considered is what I like in a romance hero and who writes that hero best.

Linda Howard is the first author who comes to mind who writes the heroes I love. They are uber-alpha, supremely capable in every situation, and yet (often) completely befuddled by their attraction to and adoration of females who don’t necessarily make sense to their male minds.

My first Howard novel was Midnight Rainbow starring Grant Sullivan, secret operative extraordinaire, and a feisty rich woman. I don’t remember much about her, but I do remember that Sullivan was pretty darned swoon-worthy, especially considering I was a teenager when I read that book. But Sullivan’s not the only one. John Medina, who finally got his own woman in All the Queen’s Men after having cameo appearances in previous books, is another super spy who doesn’t break a sweat while the bullets are flying around him.

Howard’s heroes don’t have to be mercenaries or spies – though I’m certainly not complaining! – but they will be men who can maintain control of 99% of their environment. Ben Lewis, the Amazon guide in Heart of Fire, and James Diaz from Cry No More (one of my desert-isle keepers) are two men who may take questionable moral stances in some situation, yet they are 110% devoted to the safety of their women, even when they don’t understand what the women are planning or why.

She has also written two of my favorite cops (though I do adore Nelson deMille’s John Corey, but those aren’t romance, so we’ll save those for another day) in the hilarious Sam Donovan from Mr. Perfect and Dane Hollister in Dream Man. Honestly, who can resist a man who ends up with sympathy labor pains?

And speaking of Danes, or Dains as it were, I have to add Sebastian Ballister, the Marquess of Dain, from Loretta Chase’s Lord of Scoundrels to my list. Not only is Dain another uber-alpha male completely confounded and besotted by Jessica Trent, LoS is simply one of the best romance novels ever written. Ever. Seriously. I’m pretty sure there are scientific papers quantifying that.

And one more author whose heroes I love? Laura Florand. If you haven’t read her chocolate or perfume series, get on it! She creates these gorgeous French men (and gorgeous French settings!) who are tough and rugged on outside, but molten chocolate on the inside – sweet, dark and delicious. Dominique Richard from The Chocolate Touch is my favorite of Florand’s bad boy chefs, but Gabe and Patrick are chocolatey heartthrobs as well (The Chocolate Rose and The Chocolate Temptation respectively). Honestly, though, if you’re going to read Florand’s books, just start at the beginning of the series with The Chocolate Thief and know that the books get better and better the more you read. Full disclosure, the first book in the series is actually my least favorite…though I do love that hero as well, Monsieur Sylvain Marquis.

Tl;dr (too long;didn’t read)—I dig supremely capable alpha males who are drop-kicked by love!

Tell me who your favorite heroes are.

On Monday, February 1st, I’ll randomly choose one commenter to win a free digital copy of one of my novellas. Winner gets to choose between Three Little Words and One Night in Savannah. Very different heroes in those two stories, but I love them both!

About the Author

Taylor Reynolds writes hot, contemporary romance that often features active military or veteran characters. She is a native Californian who currently lives in Northern Virginia with a dog and a cat.

Hello, I’m Melanie Jayne and I write romance with older characters. By saying that, I don’t mean women in their early thirties. Nooo, I am talking about women that have made more than a few laps around life’s track. I do this because I can barely remember my twenties and to be honest, my life didn’t get really interesting until many years had passed.

I find that too often in fiction, especially romance, the female characters top out in their early thirties or are into their sixties. The older women are portrayed as the meddling interloper or the crazy relative. Well I’m here to tell you that women can be so much more.

I love creating my female characters. They have had years to work through their issues with their families. Not that she can change things but she can anticipate, or won’t be surprised by actions and reactions. Hopefully, she is to the point where she has identified the negative influences in her circle and shed those “friends”.  She may not completely know herself but she has a good idea what she doesn’t like and what she doesn’t want around her.

I usually find that she has just made or experienced a major change in her life. She can start over and do things her way, the better way. In my latest book, You Only, Hale Cameron has just returned to the small town where she grew up. Years before she left her fiancé and the town behind. Now she must find her place in the community that has kept the story of how she broke Finn Webber’s heart alive.

Hale has her share of baggage, she was abused by her mother and fears that she may share some of Lydia’s traits. She left a successful career to take over the reins of her family’s farming operation. After years of therapy, she believes that she lost her chance at love. Perhaps she isn’t really worthy of romantic love?

Her close friends have her back and help her navigate small town life. She must also deal with Finn. He is now the mayor and a popular bachelor. He never understood why Hale left and demands an explanation. Her reasons confuse him, almost as much as his attraction to her.

As couple addresses their past, Finn learns that he did not really know Hale at all. The new and improved Hale excites and entices him with her intelligence and forbearance. She is trying to fit in and become a leader as expected due to her family name.

In the book, Hale has doubts but continues working toward her goal. She was so much fun to write because she wants to move forward. I love that she knows her faults, but accepts that we all have them. She is unapologetically sexual and is not afraid to discuss her past and what she hopes will come to be. She is human and has worked very hard to be okay with that. I think that is what I love most about her. She knows that she isn’t perfect and isn’t surprised when those close to her screw up. She looks deeper than the what but more into the why.

Women are so much more than the number of years that they have graced the earth and I hope that one day, we will stop seeing them as their age but more for their wisdom.

About the Author

Melanie Jayne lives in on a grain farm in Central Indiana with her long suffering husband and Ginger the monster dog. When she isn’t writing, she’s dealing with repairs their old farmhouse and she loves to read.

You are invited to follow her:

www.ReadMelanieJayne.com

@MJSmut on Twitter, Pinterest and Instagram

Melanie Jayne on Facebook