A former Special Forces soldier, looking forward to the peace and quiet of his new houseboat, finds his solitude shattered by the arrival of his neighbor and her kid.

Note: This 7,000-word short story was originally published in SILVER SOLDIERS

Get your FREE copy here!

UPDATE: The winner is…Colleen C!
*~*~*

Born enslaved in 1848, Susan Baker and her uncle escaped from slavery in 1862. They ended up with hundreds of other former slaves on St. Simons Island off the coast of Georgia. From the age of seven, Susie had been educated in secret schools and thus could teach others. She even used her literacy to write passes for blacks making it safe for them to travel safely after curfew. Because of these skills, she was able to open a school teaching children by day and adults at night on St. Simons. This made her the first African American woman to open and teach at a free school in Georgia. All at the age of fourteen.

She married Sergeant Edward King, a black officer in the 33^rd US Colored Infantry and helped nurse and equip the soldiers while also continuing to teach the illiterate to read and write. In Beaumont SC, she met and worked with Clara Barton at a hospital for African-American soldiers. She did this work in the army for four years without pay.

In 1866, she and her husband’s service in the military ended. They moved to Savannah where she opened a school for African American children. However, a new public school provided too much competition, so Susie’s school had to close. That same year her husband died. Now widowed and supporting a small child, she worked as a domestic for a wealthy white family who took her to Boston in 1870. She eventually moved to Boston in 1874, remarried and lived there with her second husband, Russell Taylor, until she died in 1912.

Susie dedicated much of her time to the Woman’s Relief Corps, an organization she helped form for female Civil War veterans. She served as its president in 1893. She also fought against a group called the Union Daughters of the Confederacy who were trying to rid the mention of slavery from school curriculums. Unfortunately, the whitewashing of history around the issue of slavery is neither new nor relegated to Florida.

She self-published Reminiscences in 1902, making her the first and only African American woman to print a Civil War memoir about her wartime experience. She ends the memoir on this positive note, “In 1861 the Southern papers were full of advertisements for ‘slaves,’ but now, despite all the hindrances and ‘race problems,’ my people are striving to attain the full standard of all other races born free in the sight of God, and in a number of instances have succeeded. Justice we ask—to be citizens of these United States, where so many of our people have shed their blood with their white comrades, that the stars and stripes should never be polluted.”

It never ceases to amaze me how resilient and resourceful women like Susie Baker King Taylor were. Neither age, race nor gender proves to be a barrier for long. I continue to be inspired and encouraged by their examples. For a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card, comment below on Susie’s life.

“The Spirit to Resist” by Michal Scott from Hot & Sticky: A Passionate Ink Charity Anthology

A woman may be made a fool of if she hasn’t the spirit to resist, but what does she do if, for the first time in her life, being made into a fool is exactly what she wants?

Excerpt from “The Spirit to Resist”…

The festivities ended. Everyone helped with collecting bowls, spoons and ice cream tubs. Harold reached for the tub of chocolate Florence handed him. Emboldened by hope, he held onto her hand before she reached for another vat.

“Maybe an old-fashioned bareback trot on Harold Too might be more to your liking than a ride in William’s car?”

“You had all summer to approach me. Now you declare yourself at this late hour.” Florence fisted her hands on her shapely hips. “I don’t throw people over.”

“Of course not.” Harold’s hope died. He spread his hands in apology. “I beg your pardon.”

William stepped forward. Florence closed her eyes and sighed. The sound set hope fluttering in Harold’s spirit once more.

“Actually, it’s more than a ride I’m offering. Once alone, I’d hoped to show you something different, something pretty special.” He angled his head so his words slid into her ear. “Something just for you.”

She glared at him, but interest radiated in its heat. At least she wasn’t insulted.

William offered his arm. He grinned like a cat licking cream from its paws. “Shall we?”

Florence took it and headed with him for the door.

“See you at Thanksgiving, Harold,” she called over her shoulder then suddenly looked back. “Next time don’t be so late out of the gate.”

Harold groaned. Thanksgiving? He’d have to wait three whole months before he had another chance to challenge that irresistible vanilla?

Jesus. How would he last until then?

Buylink: https://books2read.com/u/3nNDnx

UPDATE: The winners are…Sara D and Theresa Oconnell!
*~*~*

Are you a fan of short stories? Have you ever read one? I love reading and writing them. Good thing, because one of my jobs is “editor” for sexy anthologies, which I used to edit for Cleis Press but now do so independently.

I love writing a short story for many reasons.

• It’s a very short, satisfying journey to THE END.
• I can experiment with genre and see whether I’m any good at writing something different.
• Writing shorts cleans my writer’s palate much like eating bread at a wine tasting.
• It’s just plain fun.

I write short stories for the collections I edit, but I also love to write them for other people’s collections. I get rejected the same as anyone else, so it’s still a rush to make the cut when a story is accepted. And because I normally retain all rights for the stories, I like to bundle them up occasionally into my own little self-pubbed volumes of Strokes (filled with super-sexy short stories!). I’ve published four: Strokes, Vol. 1; Strokes, Vol. 2; Strokes, Vol. 3; and Ultra Strokes. Today, I’m giving away a copy of one of those volumes to two lucky commenters. 

If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered
to win a free download of a Strokes anthology!

Strokes, Volume 2

From New York Times bestselling author, Delilah Devlin, comes another naughty collection of seven bedtime stories—a week’s worth of nighttime reading pleasure.

Ride along with two soldiers, just returned from war, who find sweet release in “The Long Ride Home.” In “Tailgating at the Cedar Inn,” a woman has one last fling with two sexy construction workers. A cowboy kidnaps his “Runaway Bride” to get some sweet satisfaction. A woman travelling alone in Europe enjoys a hot steamy sauna in the “Textile Free” zone. In “Love in Bloom,” a florist tempts her high school crush. A naughty nooner with an office colleague ends in a “Quick Draw.” A dispatcher kicks inhibitions to the door when she seduces a younger truck driver in “Drive Me Crazy.”

Four of the stories have appeared in separate Cleis Press anthologies. Two of the stories were featured in Penthouse magazine! All the stories are featured in one sinfully hot collection…

Excerpt from “The Long Ride Home” which was featured in Duty and Desire, published by Cleis Press, and which Penthouse magazine also published…

White-hot sun beat down on the tops of our helmets. Sweat pooled between our shoulder blades and dampened the necks of our t-shirts. However, it was a hot, humid East Texas heat—so unlike what we’d endured for the past eleven months that none standing in formation really minded. We were home.

I watched it trickle down the side of one particular soldier’s neck as he stood in the row in front of me. Not for the first time, I thought I’d like the chance to lick it away.

Not that Staff Sergeant Mason Haddox had a clue how I felt. We’d been part of the same platoon—played volleyball and shot hoops, drove trucks over long, barely paved expanses of desert and mountains, and cleaned our weapons, side by side—but he hadn’t seen me as anything but another private who needed looking after.

And yet, his tall, muscled frame, black close-cropped hair and wintry blue eyes had made quite an impression. I’d lusted after him since the first time he’d shown up drill weekend, a month before we’d deployed. His steadfast calm during the most nightmarish day of my life had only cemented his attraction.

My nose started to itch, and I wrinkled it, hoping formation would break soon so I could scratch it. My feet were roasting in the boots sticking to the black pavement.

True to his word, our commander kept his speech short. A good thing, since SSG Haddox fidgeted, hands tightening and easing, swaying slightly on his feet as though waiting to spring into action. I knew he scanned the crowd seated in the bleachers from the corners of his eyes, hoping she’d show, that she’d changed her mind. I’d looked too and knew she wasn’t there—and wouldn’t be coming. I felt bad for him, but was also secretly hopeful he’d be ready to let go, that he wouldn’t do something stupid now we were back.

Just a month before we began preparations for our unit’s return from Afghanistan, Haddox had gotten the Dear John letter from his girlfriend, informing him she’d moved his belongings from their apartment into a storage unit. She’d included two keys taped to the page—one for the storage unit and one to his Mustang. She’d written she was sorry, but had he really expected her to wait all those months?

Had I been in her shoes, I would have. But then, I knew the feeling of being so far from home that Skype and email couldn’t fill the loneliness. I’d survived it once. However, my husband’s second tour had severed our connection—that and the emails I’d discovered when I’d hacked his Gmail account. Ones he’d sent to a female corporal stationed in another province who was planning a little R&R rendezvous. As quick as that, my love for him dried up like a closed tap. I’d forwarded the email to my account, then sent it to him along with a request for a divorce.

So I knew what Haddox felt. The searing betrayal. The anger. Maybe she’d been a decent person, but personally, I consigned her to hell. The worst thing the person at home could do to a deployed soldier was abandon him when he was too far away to do a damn thing about it.

I hoped he didn’t plan to go find her now.

“Company, attention!”

I snapped into position.

“Dismissed.”

Cheers from our unit and from the family and friends who filled the armory motor pool rang in the late afternoon air.

Head down, Haddox stomped away, not bothering to share a word with anyone.

My sister waved and made her way through the throng spilling from the bleachers, a wide smile splitting her face. I gave her an answering smile, but couldn’t help darting a glance to watch that broad set of shoulders move toward the open motor pool gates—the only space large enough to hold the formation and the guests who’d come to welcome the Reserve unit home.

The buses that had delivered us from the airport were pulling away. Most of the soldiers and their friends and family were heading inside the armory for the welcome home celebration, but Haddox strode toward the parking lot.

I gave my sister a quick hug. “Go say hi to Shelby—he’s got it bad for you.”

She laughed and blushed. “Where are you goin’?” Then her gaze followed mine. “Seriously? I thought you said he was an asshole.”

“He grows on you. I’m sorry. I have to go.”

She gave me a smile and hitched her purse over her shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. But you better call.”

“Tell Shelby to grab my gear!” Out the gates I sped.

Haddox was already dropping his duffel bag into the trunk of a car—an older model black Mustang.

I halted beside him, trying to figure out what I could say to keep him from driving away.

“You forget something, PFC Hollister?” he asked, glancing to the side as he slammed down the trunk lid.

“Megan,” I said, suddenly breathless. “Thought you might like some company.”

His gaze narrowed. “Did you, now? I’m gonna blow the carbon out of the exhaust. The ride’s gonna be bumpy.”

“I don’t want to get in the way—if you have plans.”

“No plans.” He snorted. “Don’t even have a place to sleep. Didn’t your sister come to pick you up?”

“Yeah, but she’s all right with me leavin’.”

This time, his mouth twisted into something between a smile and a snarl. “Shelby?”

“Yeah. You know they’ve been writing each other.”

His gaze trailed straight down my body, then up again. “Get in.”

I strode quickly to the passenger door, opened it, and slipped into the bucket seat. Then I tossed my hat in the backseat and began unbuttoning my ACU-camouflaged jacket.

When he slid in beside me, one dark brow lifted, but he didn’t say a thing when I threw it into the back as well and sat in my sweat-damp shirt in the musty car.

“Better roll down the windows.” Then he said a little prayer under his breath and turned the key in the ignition. I buckled my seatbelt. The engine rumbled into life. With a quick, tight grin, he jerked the stick into reverse, and then punched it forward. We rolled out onto the street, heading west rather than east into town.

Hot wind whipped through the interior of the car, dispelling the musty air and tugging at my blond hair looped into a clip at the back of my head. I reached back and released it, then laughed as the Mustang roared.

Glancing toward Haddox, I noted the hard edge of his jaw, the hand wrapped so tight around the steering wheel, the muscles in his forearm tensed. I didn’t have to crawl inside his head to know he didn’t want me there, but I was.

Maybe I could help him out a bit. And maybe, he’d see me as more than a fellow soldier who’d shared the bench seat of a deuce-and-a-half truck a time or two. One I’d been driving when he’d had to talk me through a hail of gunfire when our transport convoy came under attack.

I unbuckled my belt, ignoring his deep frown. I turned in the seat and reached for the buttons of his jacket, flicking them open then parting each side.

He didn’t say a thing, but his nostrils flared, his jaw sawed tighter.

I gripped the front of his t-shirt, bunched it in my hand, and tugged it from his ACU trousers.

His stomach jumped, and he sucked it in, making just enough room for me to get my fingers behind the waistband as I unbuckled, unbuttoned and tugged down the zip.

“Dammit, Hollister,” he said, his voice rough as gravel. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

His gruff tone spurred me on. “Not if you keep your eyes on the road,” I said, tilting up my chin. Then I leaned over his lap, folded down the elastic band of his boxer briefs and pulled his cock upright.

UPDATE: The winner is…Carol!
*~*~*

Hello Delilah! Thank you for inviting me here today to discuss my latest contribution to a charity anthology. This would be my sixth anthology in four years, and I just love participating in these! The main reason is, of course, to raise money for charity. In this case, breast cancer research. The second reason is to stretch my authorial wings. To try something new. To step out of my comfort zone. Earlier this year, I wrote a short story about a female billionaire for a billionaire anthology. I liked doing something a little different. Flipping expectations on their head.

So, to is my newest project…

When I read The Romance Café was putting together a Jane Austen anthology, my interest was piqued. I love Austen and happen to think Colin Firth was made to play Mr. Darcy. And Jennifer Ehle as Lizzie? Perfection. That being said, my favorite of Austen’s few precious works is Persuasion. I empathized with Anne Elliot and adored Captain Frederick Wentworth. When I saw the premise of the Austen anthology was that each story would include an encounter with an Austen character, I knew which famous couple I would choose.

I also wanted to push other boundaries. I write gay romances. There were gay men way back in Regency England. Some authors I know write amazing Regency MM romances. I aspired to write something just as good. Also, I often write interracial romances. Well, there were Black men in Regency England as well. Many were former slaves, but some came from more esteemed backgrounds. I’d just watched the movie Belle about a Black woman in high society, and I knew what I wanted to write. Along came John Blackthorne and his friend Phillip. When John is recalled from the Navy to attend his family’s estate, he’s shocked. Fortunately, he has his good friend (and sort-of lover) Phillip to accompany him as he takes a position of prestige within his family.

Shoving all that story into 7,000 words was challenging, but I’m always up for doing the near-impossible. I was also writing in a time period I knew virtually nothing about, with a language I wasn’t familiar with and with military protocol I had no clue about. Two good friends (including one who is an actual historian) read the story and gave me suggestions.

I had my story. And I’m hoping readers will enjoy it along with the other twenty or so stories set in Austen’s England.

As a thank you to your readers, I’d love to offer up a $5 Amazon Gift Certificate to one lucky commenter. I’d love to hear which is your favorite Austen novel. And if you’re not a Regency fan, do you enjoy seeing classic characters popping up in modern books? Leave a comment and one random commenter will win!

Thank you, Delilah, for hosting me. I hope everyone runs out and buys the anthology—available through Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited.

Austen’s Tea Party

Take care not to spill the tea (literally) while we share the latest on-dit (aka dish the dirt) about the Ton, who is courting, and who has been compromised in this collection of Austen-inspired romance stories.

Join us for a turn around the room in stories from USA Today best-selling and award-winning romance authors curated by the New Romance Café featuring cameos from some of Jane’s most memorable characters (and some we’d like to forget). ALL proceeds go to the Breast Cancer Research Foundation.

Authors:
Alexa Santi
Angela Kady
Anja Raney
Bianca White
Carrie DiRisio
Catherine Bilson
Catherine Stein
Cecilia Rene
Charlie Lane
Christina Alexandra
Clyve Rose
Deborah E Pearson
Debra-Ann Kummoung
Gabbi Grey
Katy Rose
Kenna Campbell
Michaela Brent
Sharon Michalove
Tabetha Waite
Tanya Wilde
TL Clark

The anthology will only be available for a limited time.

Links:
Universal Link: https://books2read.com/AustenTeaParty
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Austen-Tea-Party-Historical-Collection-ebook/dp/B0BKRC76PS
Add it to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/63135499-austen-tea-party

About Gabbi’s story inside Austen’s Tea Party
“An Uncommon Gentleman”

John

I have served as a sailor in His Majesty’s Royal Navy for the past ten years and had no intention of changing that path. The death of my uncle means I must return to Blackthorne Estate to take up my position as Lord and Master. I’ll step up to do my duty. My dearest wish is that my beloved joins me. When he chooses to accompany me, I set my mind to making him mine. Body and soul.

Philip

I have been a sailor for nearly thirty years and will only retire when my captain orders it. When my beloved is called to attend to his family’s estate, he asks me to attend to him as a valet. I’m happy to do so as it keeps me close to him. He wants to grow the affection between the two of us, but I feel the need to attempt to hold myself apart. In the end, though, I suspect he will win this argument.

About Gabbi Grey

USA Today Bestselling author Gabbi Grey lives in beautiful British Columbia where her fur baby chin-poo keeps her safe from the nasty neighborhood squirrels. Working for the government by day, she spends her early mornings writing contemporary, gay, sweet, and dark erotic BDSM romances. While she firmly believes in happy endings, she also believes in making her characters suffer before finding their true love. She also writes m/f romances as Gabbi Black and Gabbi Powell.

SECRET IDENTITIES:  A BOYS BEHAVING BADLY ANTHOLOGY
Editor: Delilah Devlin
Deadline: November 15, 2023

SECRET IDENTITIES is open to all authors.

Editor/Author Delilah Devlin is looking for stories for a romantic erotica anthology tentatively entitled SECRET IDENTITIES:  A BOYS BEHAVING BADLY ANTHOLOGY.

Why write a short story for this collection? Well, it’s certainly not about making a lot of money, so why do it at all? I’ve said this before, many times, but here are my thoughts…

Writing a short story for a call for submissions is a chance to flex your writing muscle! It can be a chance to experiment with a genre you’ve never written. If you’ve never written a story in first person but don’t want to begin by writing an entire novel using it, start short! For myself, I’ve written stories in new genres or with fresh themes that ended up being so much fun to write they’ve spawned entire series.

You have a deadline! I don’t know about you, but I have trouble keeping my butt in the chair without one!

It’s a promotional opportunity! If selected, you’ll be joined by 12-15 other authors for the launch, sharing your audiences and, hopefully, picking up new readers along the way. Having your story in the collection is another chance to be “seen.”

And remember, you retain the rights to your story, so you can republish it for individual sale or give it away to attract subscribers to your newsletter. You might even decide there’s more story to tell and expand your short story into a novel.

Here’s what I’m looking for…

SECRET IDENTITIES: A BOYS BEHAVING BADLY ANTHOLOGY will include stories that satisfy the reader who craves stories about mysterious, enigmatic men. Perhaps, they’re the new next-door neighbor with a mysterious past that finds him just as he’s meeting a woman he doesn’t want to leave. Maybe he’s an alien from a far-away galaxy looking for his fated mate. Could he be a spy setting up surveillance on another suspected spy? An assassin scouting his target who discovers his handlers lied about the reasons for targeting a particular individual he’s intrigued by? Is he a werewolf living in the human world? Yes! So many ways to go.

SECRET IDENTITIES will seek stories with varied settings here on earth—present, past, or future—or on another planet or moon in this solar system or in a galaxy far, far, away.  Heroes and heroines might be more than human—supernatural creatures or even aliens and cyborgs.

I’m open to any subgenre of erotic romance you want to write. I’ll accept contemporary, historical, science fiction, or paranormal stories, and I won’t be picky about whether the stories are hetero, LGBT, ménage… Basically, you, the author, can go anywhere your imagination takes you so long as 1) the story is a romance, and 2) you have a bad boy somewhere on the pages!

The anthology will be sold at a low price—my intent is exposure for you and your writing. The more readers reached, the better! You will retain the rights to your story so that, at a later date, you can republish your stories individually.

I’m seeking hot and inventive stories from authors with unique voices, and above all, I’m looking to be seduced by tales filled with vivid imagery and passion.

Published authors with an established world may use that setting for their original short story.

This is erotic romance, so don’t hold back on the heat. Stories can be vanilla or filled with kink but don’t miss describing the romantic connection between strong-willed individuals learning to trust and love one another. A deep sensuality should linger in every word. Keep in mind that there must be a romantic element with a happy-for-now or happy-ever-after ending. Strong plots, engaging characters, and unique twists are the ultimate goal. Please, no reprints. I want original stories.

How to submit: Prepare your 2,500 to 5,500 words story in a double-spaced, Arial, 12-point, black font, Word document (.doc or .docx) OR rich text format (.rtf), with pages numbered. Indent the first line of each paragraph half an inch and double space (regular double spacing; do not add extra lines between paragraphs or do any other irregular spacing). U.S. grammar (double quotation marks around dialogue, etc.) is required.

In your document at the top left of the first page, include your legal name (and pseudonym, if applicable), mailing address, email address, and a 50-words or less biography, written in the third person, and send to bbbsecretidentities@gmail.com. If you are using a pseudonym, please provide your real name and pseudonym and make it clear which one you’d like to be credited as. Authors may submit up to 2 stories. I will try to respond no later than February 28, 2024, with decisions.

Payment will be USD 25.00 ninety days after publication at the end of that month.

Who is Delilah Devlin?

Delilah Devlin is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of romance and erotic romance. She has published over two hundred stories in multiple genres and lengths and has been published by Atria/Strebor, Avon, Berkley, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ellora’s Cave, Entangled, Grand Central, Harlequin Spice, HarperCollins: Mischief, Kensington, Kindle, Montlake, Penthouse, Running Press, and Samhain Publishing.

Her short stories have appeared in multiple Cleis Press collections, including Lesbian Cowboys, Girl Crush, Fairy Tale Lust, Lesbian Lust, Passion, Lesbian Cops, Dream Lover, Carnal Machines, Best Erotic Romance (2012), Suite Encounters, Girl Fever, Girls Who Score, Duty and Desire, Best Lesbian Romance of 2013, and On Fire. For Cleis Press, she edited Girls Who Bite, She Shifters, Cowboy Lust, Smokin’ Hot Firemen, High Octane Heroes, Cowboy Heat, Hot Highlanders and Wild Warriors, and Sex Objects.

She has also edited Conquests: An Anthology of Smoldering Viking Romance, Rogues: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, Blue Collar: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, Pirates: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, Stranded: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, First Response: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, Cowboys: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, and Silver Soldiers: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology.

Direct any questions regarding your story or the submission process to Delilah at bbbsecretidentities@gmail.com.

UPDATE: The winner is…Mary Preston!
*~*~*

What is it with the media and ageism? I will turn 67 this year and I bristle when some commentator denigrates President Biden for being 80. Gray Panthers unite! I guess the media hasn’t heard 80 is the new 60. So to those who view seniors through a negative lens I’m using this Juneteenth to celebrate 95-year old Opal Lee, the Grandmother of Juneteenth.

On June 19, 1865, enslaved African-Americans in Galveston Texas learned they had been free since the 1863 Emancipation Proclamation. Born October 7, 1926 in Marshall, Texas, Opal fondly remembered the games and food of her community’s Juneteenth celebrations. She also remembered a June 19th in 1939 when a white mob burned her family’s home, forcing them to relocate to Forth Worth. She earned her Bachelor of Arts degree in 1953 from Wiley College. She received her Master’s degree in counseling and guidance from North Texas State University in 1963. She retired in 1977 from her work as a home/school counselor.

With forty years of community activism under her belt, Opal made it her mission to have Juneteenth celebrated as a national holiday. In 2016, she started a walking campaign comprised of walks 2.5 miles long to represent the 2.5 years it took for enslaved African-Americans in Galveston Texas to finally learn they had been freed by the 1863 Emancipation Proclamation Act. She accepted invitations to walk in cities all over the country. These walks ended in 2017 in Washington D.C. where she presented her petition of over one and one half million signatures. Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee from the 18^th district of Texas co-sponsored a bill to make Juneteenth a federal holiday. President Biden signed that bill in 2021, making Juneteenth, June 19^th the nation’s 12th federal holiday.

Honors and tributes poured and continue to pour in for the retired schoolteacher. Hers is the second portrait of an African American to hang in the Texas state house. Her alma mater University of North Texas bestowed an honorary doctorate upon her. This year, Philadelphia declared June 5^th Opal Lee Day.

But not one to rest on her laurels, Opal’s walks continue because work still needs to be done. She told an NPR interviewer that Juneteenth is not just a Texas thing or an African American thing. It’s about freedom. “As long as there’s homelessness and joblessness and things some people get that others can’t, climate change that we are responsible for, as long as we don’t address these things, we aren’t free.” She is working on establishing the National Juneteenth Museum in Fort Worth. You can check out Opal’s continuing activities on her website: https://www.opalswalk2dc.com/about.

So, the next time you hear someone make an ageist remark, think of Opal Lee and all the other remarkable seniors who don’t let age stop them from changing the world. For a chance at a $10 gift card leave a comment about Opal’s story or about a senior in your life whom you admire.

“The Spirit to Resist” by Michal Scott from
Hot and Sticky: A Passionate Ink Charity Anthology

A woman may be made a fool of if she hasn’t the spirit to resist, but what does she do if, for the first time in her life, being made into a fool is exactly what she wants?

Excerpt from “The Spirit to Resist”

He scooted closer so his lips brushed her ear. “I’ve got a viewing room booked at Mrs. Wanzer’s. You have heard of Mrs. Wanzer’s?”

His breathy syllables coiled in Florence’s ear with serpent-seducing slyness. A jolt of arousal skittered across Florence’s labia.

“Of course I have.” Florence firmed her lips. Who didn’t know about Mrs. Wanzer’s and what went on there? Or at least, imagined what went on there.

William huffed on his nails and polished them against the lapel of his jacket. “Bet there’s a lot of knowledge you could glean there.”

An arousing but annoying friction roiled Florence’s sex at the possibility. No one spoke of Mrs. Wanzer’s except behind hands covering salacious whispers. What she wouldn’t give to have firsthand experience about sex rather than book knowledge.

“Are you vanilla enough to take advantage of this once in a lifetime offer?”

A wet yes pooled between her legs. She scrutinized William. Was this really a chance to gain the firsthand knowledge she wanted? Or was this serpent, like the one in the Garden of Eden, using knowledge of her desire to his own end?

William shrugged. “But you’re heading back to Brooklyn tomorrow,” he said in a tone heavy with resignation. “Having to pack will, I’m sure, curtail any time you’ve got for real schooling.”

He stood then turned to leave. She grabbed his arm and forced him to face her.

“What time can we go?”

Buylinks: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C5RSJS5M
https://books2read.com/u/3nNDnx  (ebook preorder only)

UPDATE: The winner is…Stephanie!
*~*~*

We’re almost there. Now, you can only vote for one theme for the next Boys Behaving Badly Anthology! Don’t know what these anthologies are all about? Check them out here: Delilah’s Collections.

Of course, next, I’ll need to come up with a clever idea for the title. Maybe you can help with that, too…

The Final Poll

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon GC, take a stab at a title for your favorite theme below!

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