Hugh wasn’t going to argue with his forceful vet when she told him his dog needed more exercise. However, the vet’s instructions didn’t include meeting someone and falling in love
It was, on reflection, rather amusing that a visit to the local vet could lead to such a passionate affair. Not with the vet. Hugh had no desire to enfold the plain-faced, squat Clarissa in his arms. And not with his dog, either. Although he was fond of Todger, and, if pushed, would admit that he loved the dog as much as he loved his two children, but in an owner/pet kind of way.
No, Clarissa had prodded Todger’s amply-covered ribs and chided Hugh about letting young Golden Retrievers run to fat. “You’ll have horrible hip problems with him later. How often does he get a walk?”
“Um,” Hugh said, flailing. He was trying hard to remember the last time any of the family had taken Todger outside the garden. Probably six months ago, and he’d been so excited he’d pulled Claire off her feet and now she and her brother were afraid to walk him.
“Every day, Hugh. He needs a walk every day. For heavens sake, you live on the edge of the village, you’ve got the most wonderful woods and moorland just a hop away.” Clarissa glared at him through her thick glasses; obviously he was now on the list of Bad Pet Owners. “Cut his feed in half. No snacks, unless they’re carrot sticks. And walk him. Train him, take him to obedience lessons and keep his mind active too. Let him have FUN.” Continue reading
Freddy Kingdom is a twentieth century woman living in the wrong millennium. She’s sitting in the last great sports car ever built, stuck in traffic on the world’s biggest roundabout. And she’s in the WRONG LANE… Warning: Sexual scenes, bad language, dodgy sci fi. 18+
Freddy Kingdom was stuck in traffic. This was an unusual occurrence. Freddy prided herself on being able to READ traffic, as far into the distance as possible, and make the appropriate split-second decisions to keep herself moving and passing as many vehicles as possible.
But she’d stuffed up. One moment’s reverie, one nanosecond’s lack of attention, and traffic had swallowed her.
Here she was, stuck in the world’s biggest roundabout. What’s more, she was stuck in the WRONG LANE.
Freddy groaned and thumped the steering wheel, and put on her indicator without much hope. The cars and maxibuses in front of her had stopped completely, which indicated either a breakdown or a fender-bender. An electric motor scooter, one of which she’d owned herself until last week, swept down the middle lane with a triumphant squeak of its low decibel horn. She switched off the motor, and the snarly sound of the Porfer ceased. Continue reading
When she’d created a fictional alien hero with three dicks, Lucy never dreamed she’d meet him….or sleep with him! Warning: Sex scenes, bad language. 18+
“The best thing about creating a world is that you can do exactly what you like with it.” Lucy was fond of saying this. In her tours to schools as a successful author, she found this always put thoughtful looks and big smiles on small faces.
Creating a world was exactly what Lucy had done. She had created Fod, the planet about which she’d written 25 stories and books to date. A crappy relationship had put her off writing for almost a year, much to the horror of her agent, and now she was over Jake – or Jerk, as she now privately called him – and was working on the synopsis for the new book. Continue reading
Melissa had it all – good looks, a beautiful baby, and two men who each thought they were the baby’s father! (Published in Woman’s Day, 2000)
What Melissa wanted, Melissa got.
It had been like that all our lives. We were resigned to it. Melissa got all the luck.
She was the only slender blue eyed blonde in a family of sturdy brunettes, and played on it mercilessly. We adored her. We indulged her. She was the middle child, and totally spoilt.
Even my wedding day was viewed by the family not as Samantha-and-Bruce’s-Wedding, but as Melissa’s-day-as-chief-bridesmaid. Slim and dainty, she led the procession down the aisle so effectively that I, gazing lovingly (erroneously so, as it turned out, but I digress) at my bridegroom, was almost ignored by the entire congregation. I remember the minister’s eyes were on gorgeous Melissa as he intoned, “Dearly beloved”. But that was Melissa. It was only to be expected. Continue reading
This time it’s a trip to Shakespeare’s England. Isabel ain’t your usual demure Tudor miss. She’s struggling to become a writer in a male-dominated world, even if it means cross-dressing, swilling beer and lighting farts. And the man of her dreams only had a bath last week… Warnings: Sex scenes, bad language, terrible liberties with history. 18+
Isabel tossed in her sleep. She was having the dream again.
Isabel sees the woman from behind. She is sitting in a peculiar chair, one spindle from the seat going down onto a brace affair with five wheels on the bottom. She is tapping her fingers on little grey squares and the glowing rectangle in front of her is throwing up words. The machine makes squawking noises every so often.
The woman sighs and scratches her head, then arches her back. She is wearing clothes like Isabel has never seen, a plain jersey and, of all things, trousers. No ruffles, no tight hose. She is dressed like a man in these cerulean blue trousers yet dressed like no man Isabel has ever seen. Her dark hair is loose and hangs to her shoulders. Continue reading
Charlie had held a torch for gorgeous, thoughtless Jeremine since they were teenagers but to Jeremine he’d always be her brother’s seriously overweight best friend. Maybe sharing a house would change all that…
The four of them got wildly drunk the night they moved in together. It was a multiple celebration: Jeremine had landed the most lucrative modelling contract she’d had yet with an agency whose connections spanned the world, and would be flying off to Paris for a shoot in a few months’ time; Sophie had been accepted for her first job since graduating from uni; Grant had won $500 on a mystery trifecta he’d taken out just for a laugh; but Charlie didn’t name his reason. He was unwilling to let even his three closest friends know that he’d had sex with a girl for the first time in two years. It hadn’t been good sex, just mediocre, but Charlie had the feeling it was the most he’d get for a while. He just couldn’t seem to make it with women. But he clinked his tumbler of champagne against Jeremine’s and proclaimed, “Here’s to our new house!”
They’d pooled their resources and rented a three-bedroomed house in Balmain. Sophie and Grant had been toying with the idea of living together for ages, and had bagged the master bedroom with its wardrobe-sized ensuite. Jeremine got the next best bedroom; people always let Jeremine have the best. She was so beautiful, when she turned those huge brown eyes on you you’d forgive her anything, Charlie thought as he’d unpacked his boxes into the third bedroom, which wasn’t much bigger than a dog kennel. With Charlie’s bulky frame in it, it became even smaller. Continue reading
Annabel was looking forward to a rustic, quiet weekend in the country, but was it really better to travel hopefully than to arrive?
Since Monday morning, when the overhead projector failed during my major presentation, and Serena spilt coffee over the VIP visitors, I’d been looking forward to this weekend. Billy’s phone call had promised light at the end of the too-long tunnel: two days of fresh country air, relaxing in the Hunter Valley, touring vineyards, finally getting the chance to sink my teeth into my paperback copy of The latest John Grisham. Bliss!
Now, sitting in Billy’s car as he drove too fast along the country roads, I wasn’t so thrilled. The exhaust system on his throaty old V8 had developed a hole which seemed to get bigger with each kilometre, and if it wasn’t the noise giving me a headache, it was the fumes. Billy thought it terrifically funny.
“Sounds like I’ve got a forty thousand dollar engine under the bonnet!” He slapped the steering wheel, thoroughly amused by himself. Never one to take speed limits seriously, he accelerated until the shrubs at the side of the road became a blur. Luckily I’d developed nerves of steel ages ago. Continue reading
Well bred but impoverished Edwardian girl Henrietta needed a rich husband. Sebastian wanted a nubile young wife with money to match her charm. It’s up to Cyrus P. Brownknowes III to arrange things….but he didn’t take falling in love into account! Warning: Sexual scenes, bad language. 18+
Lord Sebastian Smallcock, Earl of Buttox, cleared his throat. “I must find a wife, Brownknowes. A rich one.”
Cyrus P. Brownknowes III, from New York, New York (as you might have guessed) was full of ideas. “Well, Seb -”
” – er, Lord Smallcock, you could get an ad made for television…”
“This is 1912, Brownknowes. Television won’t be invited for another thirty odd years.” Continue reading
What REALLY went on in the Dark Ages? Was King Arthur reallly pissed all the time? Was his sister Morgan really a lesbian? Were Guinevere and Lancelot really having it off? The introduction of gerbils to England and more is covered in this historical masterpiece! Warning: Sexual scenes, bad language, homosexuality, implied cruelty to gerbils. 18+
“He loveth me ….”
“….He loveth me not!”
“He loveth me….”
“….He loveth me not! Pustulent pox, it always endeth up as “he loveth me not”!” Queen Guinevere, spoilt teenaged queen of England, glared malevolently at her husband Arthur’s head torturer, a robust, muscly, hairy man clad in tight black leather trousers and a black mask on his face. It turned her on just watching him work. Continue reading