New Release! The Party Upstairs: A Cougar Story

 

It’s out! My newest erotica eBook is available: The Party Upstairs: A Cougar Story.

 

Check out the summary:

An invitation to a party hosted by Celine Greaves isn’t something to turn down. Thankfully, Celine’s son is in attendance.

Donna just wants the party to be over. Sure, the free champagne is nice, but she’d rather be at home reading a book with a glass of wine. She excuses herself to explore the house–that would cure twenty minutes of boredom at least. 

When she arrives in an upstairs bedroom, a man follows her inside. At first, she doesn’t recognize him, but it turns out to be Caden, Celine’s son, back from college with a fresh set of toned muscles and a shadow of stubble across his face. 

Since Caden doesn’t want to revisit the party either, they both figure out ways to curb their boredom together, creating their own party upstairs.

If you enjoy stories of experienced cougars and eager, college-aged guys, this is the story for you.

 

Here’s where you can find it for only $0.99:

I want to give a huge thanks to everyone on my Launch Team, who are invaluable for their feedback. And of course, thank you to my readers for all your support. I owe everything to my readers and their continual patronage.

If you’d like, read below for a sample of the story.


 

The Party Upstairs: A Cougar Story

(sample)

An invitation to a party hosted by Celine Greaves wasn’t something to turn down. Donna knew this, but as she turned the card over and over between her fingers, she chewed the inside of her cheek and thought about how she could get out of it.

  She could say she was sick. There was always something going around. She could say the home called to say her mom had taken a turn for the worse and she needed to be there. She could say her car broke down.

  The possibilities were endless, but the simple fact of the matter was that if she didn’t go, then she’d miss out on all the latest gossip and would be pushed out of the inner circle of local society, and that simply wouldn’t do. So, she checked yes on the RSVP and placed the card into the ivory-colored envelope, adding it to the outgoing mail.

  Of course, Celine could just as easily have sent an email to all her friends, or she could have created a group invite on social media, but of course in civilized society one would never do something so crass, and if Celine was anything, she was civilized.

  The garden party the following week was the affair of the year. Tents were erected on the lawn, canapes came around on silver platters, and champagne was served in delicate, crystal flutes. And there was Celine in the center of it all, floating around in a yellow dress, spreading gossip wherever she went.

  “I heard that Marjorie Black couldn’t make it today because she’s filing for bankruptcy in the morning,” she hissed to Donna. “I guess time will tell on that one.”

  Donna smiled with tight lips, waiting for Celine to move on to her next victim. She recalled that this was why she’d attended after all. It wasn’t that she wanted to; it was simply that if she hadn’t, Celine likely would have invented some spurious gossip to spite her, and it would be months, if not years, before she received another invite.

  There were times Donna wished she could simply wash her hands of the whole group and insist she wanted nothing more to do with any of them, but there were good reasons to be part of Celine’s inner circle. She was always offered the best spots at the country club and on the golf course, and she never had to wait for one of the slow people to finish the hole. They were always politely moved on so Donna could continue her round without delay.

  The men at these parties were always handsome too, and unfailingly successful. Donna wondered how the local hospitals of the county managed to stay open when so many lauded surgeons and doctors were in attendance.

  One such surgeon, the man responsible, in fact, for half of the silicone the women walking around the lawn carried in their bodies, came to talk to Donna. She knew him well. Joseph Myers was lauded as a god. And as she’d sat in front of the mirror that morning and pulled her skin back tautly from her cheeks, Donna had even wondered whether it was time to give Doctor Myers a call.

  She put it to him as he told her how well she looked. He narrowed his eyes and inspected her face as she nervously looked left and right, and then he shook his head. “You’re looking wonderful, Mrs. Jones,” he said. “I’d say you can’t be a day over forty, surely.”

(end of sample)


 

Read the conclusion for only $0.99:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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