Wanderlust - Available Now!

The world is waiting for her…and he’s waited long enough.
Meg Snow is having hot and wild sex with Cory Traven…in her dreams.
Four years ago he had his chance for a relationship with her. Instead, he joined the military, leaving her to endure Milcott, South Dakota, on her own. Now it’s her turn for adventure and a chance to banish those erotic Cory fantasies once and for all—on a singles cruise to Jamaica.
Cory has come home for what he denied himself four years before. Meg. But she’s made it clear she wants anyone except him. There’s only one way to show her that what she wants and what she needs are two different things. How? Storm the beaches of Jamaica. Infiltrate his way into her bed. Breach the walls of her heart.
And show her that paradise is not in the Caribbean, but in his arms.

Read the Excerpt

Meg entered the house. The familiar scents of childhood washed over her. Pictures of the family hung on the whitewashed walls. A brightly colored, granny-patch afghan draped over the davenport. She ran her fingers along the soft yarn and remembered snuggling against the furnace, wrapped tight on cold winter mornings. The blanket was as old as she was.

She walked down the hall to the kitchen. Her mom had bowls filled with food and delicious aromas floated on the air.

“Uncle Fred is ready to cook the chops.”

“Oh good. You’re here.” Rose clapped her hands together. “I’ll be right back.” She picked up a large tray of meat and headed into the front yard. A moment later she heard her mother call for Uncle Fred. That same voice had called Meg home—from a quarter mile away—for dinner while she was growing up.

Rose returned and dropped the serving tray onto the counter with a clatter. “That man is exasperating. It’s meat for crying out loud. What does it matter what type of dish I bring it to him on?”

Meg chuckled. Pastel flowers were painted the glass dish.

Soon smoke from the cooking meat scented the air. Meg found herself situated in between her mother and her Aunt Bess at the kitchen table discussing where they’d like to be buried when the day came.

“It’s tacky,” Rose stated while pinching the ends off green beans and tossing them into a large plastic bowl.

“I think the marquee is wonderful. I want to be buried in Pierre.” Aunt Bess started the next row on her knitting. Arthritis had gnarled her fingers, but she still managed with her knitting needles. The old woman could cast on so fast Meg’s eyes couldn’t keep track of the threads of yarn.

“Would you have your name in flashing lights? Aunt Bess! Aunt Bess! Aunt Bess! Rest in peace Las Vegas style.” Rose abruptly stood. Her chair scraped against the old wood floor in the ranch house built more than a hundred years before.

“Just think,” Aunt Bess continued, “this way everyone gets their fifteen minutes of fame.”

Meg’s head dropped to the table with a thud.

“Do you have a headache, Margaret dear?” Aunt Bess stroked her hand over the back of her head in a smooth motion.

She lifted her face and smiled. “Maybe I need some fresh air.” She kissed Aunt Bess’s cheek and excused herself.

“Are you going to find Cory?”

All she could do was roll her eyes at her mother’s comment and keep walking. She couldn’t deny that her mother had guessed correctly.

Cory leaned against the porch railing. Fred hovered around the barbecue grill and Lem stood to the side offering instruction on how best to cook chops. Emotion filled his chest—pride, history and mostly a need to be a part of this family. It wasn’t just Meg. This was the life he wanted. His family wasn’t much different.

“Hi.” The woman in his thoughts came up beside him.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She stiffened, but he didn’t let go. He put his nose to her hair and inhaled. “You smell good.”

“Have you been drinking?”

He picked up the half full beer bottle from the porch railing. “My second one.” He spoke close to her ear.

“Don’t, Cory.” She nudged him in the stomach. “My mom will see.”

“And?”

“And she already thinks we’re screwing.” She stepped away from him.

“She does?”

“Don’t sound so happy. She’s determined to prove it.”

“We could have sex and ease her mind.”

Meg ignored him. “She won’t believe we’re just friends if you’re pawing me.” She sank into the porch swing. Putting her foot on the corner post, she sent it rocking.

“We’re more than friends.” He stopped the swing and stared hard into her face.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Maybe a long time ago. I changed while you were gone.”

His eyes raked her body. “I noticed. The changes are amazing.”

She blew a razzleberry with her lips.

“I don’t care what you say. You want me as much as I want you,” he said.

She rose from the seat and moved close to him. He could smell her sweet breath and see her heart’s rapid beat in the vein of her graceful neck. He wanted his lips there.

“We don’t want the same things.”

“Yes, we do.” He reached out and ran his knuckles over her silky skin in the open collar of her shirt. Her breath hitched. “Admit it. We want exactly the same thing.”

“I’ll admit that I find you attractive. And that I’ve always cherished our friendship. But admit that—”

“You want to go to bed with me.”

She stepped back and slid her hands into her front pockets. She narrowed her eyes and titled her head. “Okay, I admit it. Now what?”

Available on Amazon and major online retailers