Guest Blog: April Morelock
Join me in welcoming a friend of mine, April Morelock, as she introduces us to her debut release from Loose Id, Best Little Spin Wash in Texas. I can't wait to read tit!
Contest and New Release
Timid, geeky quantum physicist Molly Timmons lives in a man’s world of metaphysics when she meets a handsome John St. James at a Spin Wash and Go. One dark night trapped in the Spin Wash isn’t enough. Even as their relationship deepens, they learn of a dark secret the Spin Wash is hiding… a secret that could tear John’s world apart or could save his daugther‘s life.
Molly’s the key.
Time is running out. Will they figure out the Spin Wash’s secret or will they both be lost in time?
His arms flexed as he slid the basket under his arm and walked around the washers. This was ridiculous; she needed to get laid if the simple pleasure of watching a man cross the floor had her flushed with sexual need.
Laundry detergent, White Rain shampoo, and something indefinable invaded her space and filled her senses as he walked past her.
It was hard to stay put.
She closed her eyes, took in another deep breath, and repressed a moan. This was why women loved sweaty men. Pheromones trumped common sense every time.
Forcing her eyes open, she watched him move; the hard muscles flexing and bending to his will A shift of his basket and his eyes clashed with hers, darkening. With a slow perusal, he took in her lightly muscled legs, encased in short blue shorts. She mentally slapped herself, thinking of how opaque her white T-shirt must look. Her mama had told her that, even with small breasts, she should always wear a bra.
Nipples peaked, pebbling through her shirt, as he continued his inspection, gray eyes almost black. She breathed shallowly, trying to ignore the ache blooming deep inside.
Molly was past shielding herself; she wanted those eyes on her. Her lack of propriety would have had her mother screaming a blue streak. Taunting a man like that, walking out of the house looking like a slut.
God, he had to stop looking at her.
He finally jerked his gaze away from her body and leaned down to drop his basket, then pulled the detergent and softener from it, those lovely muscles moving deliciously under his tan.
He was so close, and those jeans hit him in all the right places. She had to watch every movement, mesmerized by the bending and flexing of his thighs as he placed the detergent into the washer.
He was done too soon. His strong hands worked efficiently, the muscles underneath moving like strings on a piano. Strong. Graceful. Just the idea of those strong digits strumming her body, gliding across her skin, made her hold her breath.
She needed to get ahold of herself -- and quick -- if she was going to look him in the eye. Her face was tight, the skin undoubtedly flushed and almost feverish and not just from the heat and stickiness of the Spin Wash. She was letting her imagination get away with her.
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