New Release! Doing the Wrong Thing: A Revenge Cheating Story


It’s out! My newest erotica eBook is available: Doing the Wrong Thing: A Revenge Cheating Story.


Check out the summary:

I’ve always been loyal to my husband…until I checked his phone.

He’s been sleeping with the wife of a colleague of his, and worse yet, I know who she is. Now all bets are off. I know it’s petty, but I need to sleep with the next man I see to get it out of my system.

But first, I need to do the right thing and call her husband, Elijah, to tell him what his wife’s been doing behind his back. It’s the right thing to do. Although, what starts out as a phone call and lunch quickly turns into a hotel a few blocks away.

Call it a revenge lay. Call it petty. I don’t care. I just know after tonight, I’ll feel better. Especially since I thought up a creative way to tell my husband I just got even.


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.


Doing the Wrong Thing: A Revenge Cheating Story



I’d always been the kind of woman who trusted her instincts. I knew from the second my college professor walked into the room what kind of mood she was in, and whether the class was in for a rough day or not. I knew from the way someone knocked at my door at the office whether they stopped by to deliver bad news or try to sell me something.

  So, when my husband had arrived home one evening and tossed his clothes into the washing machine and turned it on within five minutes of walking through the door, I immediately knew he was having an affair. No other reason for that kind of urgency.

  Of course, that wasn’t the story he’d given me. He’d been driving home and stopped off to get ice cream, and as he held the cup in his hand the asshole in the car in front braked so quickly that Robert, too, had to slam on the brakes and the ice cream spilled all over his clothes. Such a tragedy.

  I asked what he’d done with the cup and plastic spoon. He said he’d thrown them both out the car window in anger. It wasn’t an implausible story, by any means. He loved desserts, and on a hot August day in Texas, it made perfect sense to stop off and get a scoop of Madagascan vanilla with hazelnuts on top. His favorite.

  But it was the way he told the story that sent alarm bells ringing in my head. I knew him inside out, and his mannerisms immediately told me he was lying. To begin with, he’d never once turned the washing machine on unless I asked him to, and even the time he’d sliced his finger open cutting an avocado, he tossed the shirt with the bloody sleeve in the laundry basket for me to deal with later.

  He couldn’t meet my gaze, putting his head in the refrigerator when telling the story. He asked what we were having for dinner when I’d told him that morning we were having lasagna and the smell from the oven confirmed this. Maybe he was desperate for any change of subject. The way his eyes shifted during what little time we talked confirmed everything for me. It wasn’t what he said but what he didn’t say.

  By the time he’d jumped into the shower and came down again in a clean shirt and shorts, I’d already attempted to log onto his computer. The password had been changed, and if I attempted it one more time, it would be locked. He was getting smarter—no birthdays, birthplaces, or first pet names. His wallet bore no trace of receipts or business cards, and the only thing left to check was his cell phone.

(end of sample)


Read the conclusion:










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