Now flying off shelves everywhere is this fabulous anthology full of Christmas naughtiness guaranteed to please. Showcasing 21 stories from 21 well known erotic authors there is bound to be something inside to please everyone.
My own contribution is a story called 'Calendar Girl'
Short Blurb:
Amanda is preparing for Christmas, wrapping pretty paper on
a very special present. Only this present might not be as welcome as she first
thought. As memories flood back through the scented bubbles in her bath, Amanda
remembers and the reality shocks her to her core. Who will be on the end of the
phone when Amanda finally dials?
Excerpt:
The doorbell rang - Carol singers. For a moment Amanda didn’t
move, maybe she could ignore them but she realised they would be able to see
the tree lights flashing merrily and the TV screen, muted but visible, through
the glass on the front door. “Born in a field?” her mum used to say and Amanda
regretted not closing the lounge door which was directly opposite. With a sigh
she stood and rattled through her purse for change.
“We wish you a
merry Christmas,
We wish you a
merry Christmas
We WISH you a
merry…here she comes!”
“There you go, happy holidays” said Amanda handing over
silver coins with a weak smile, wishing they didn’t look so shocked by her
crazy hair.
Amanda had always had really big hair. It did just what it
wanted; a mass of unruly, thick curls coarse to the touch, but those same curls
had been teased into submission for April’s photo. Tousled but pretty they had
fallen over bronzed shoulders as she sat on the golden sand of Marbella wearing
tiny, frayed denim shorts her hands covering the soft swell of her breasts.
“Hark the Herald
angels sing…”
Had they come back for more?
Later, with all the downstairs lights off to avoid more
disturbances, Amanda stepped gingerly into a steaming, bubble bath. The scent
of lavender soothed her mind as she sunk into the water until only her head was
visible. She sighed, a warm, deep appreciative sigh as the many, misshaped crystals rippled over her skin
claiming victory over receptive pores. Although practically perfect this bath
was not the visually stunning spectacle of November. Tonight there were no
candles, just a low wattage bulb hanging above the soft green up lighter.
November’s photograph was taken in the sumptuous bathroom of suite 47 in the
grand Tahoma hotel, Barcelona. The bath was a sunken, marble masterpiece of
silken bubbles scattered with red, rose petals. All around her were candles of
deepest burgundy which flickered an image of warm sensuality across her softly
glowing face. Her hair had hung in damp abandonment as stray curls snaked her
rosy nipples.
A prickle of apprehension caught her off guard; instinctively
she wrapped her arms around her body, a soft flush coloured her cheeks,
determinedly Amanda pushed away the sudden rush of negativity. Nathan would
love it she argued; he wouldn’t ask questions would he? After all it was the
perfect present for any hot blooded man. Amanda closed her eyes bringing back
the vision of Barcelona; it had all been so perfect…
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