Fellow writers will understand this–ever have that one book you wrote that you absolutely love? I mean, you love everything you’ve written, but this one has a special place in your heart.
For me, it’s Knew You’d Come. It combines several of my favorite things: time travel, ghost hunting, and erotica.
It’s on sale for $.99, or free if you have Kindle Unlimited which IF YOU DON’T HAVE THIS, WHY NOT???
A caveat…it’s racy. Even the excerpt. So if you’re in the least prudish, look away now for the love of God!
Enjoy the sample below, then click the link to head on over to Amazon and fill up that new Kindle.
Happy New Year!
Whip Daniels watched the diminutive woman with the long, platinum blonde hair unload the van from his position behind the bar. Over the long years he had been here, waiting, he had watched many different people come and go. Sometimes a group of teenagers would break in, looking for a place to hang out, smoke pot and screw. Those trespassing apparently loved having a place away from everything, where no one would catch them playing their drinking games, pin the tail on the whatever, and strip poker.
Ah, poker. It would be so nice to be able to play a good game of poker. He had been an excellent player.
He had listened in on the conversations, and over the years had become accustomed to the various generations that passed through the building. He hated the hippies, though; once they were high, some could really see him and tried to have conversations with him.
It didn’t work. He was someone who could only watch reality and not be a part of it. It was a never-ending lifetime of floating around and watching people break in with food and booze. He enjoyed the aroma of their never-ending cheeseburgers, fries, and s’mores. He watched couples have sex and heard their moans of passion, and he missed his woman badly. He desperately wanted to touch her again, see her again; yet he knew she was far out of reach, unaware of his existence. It was a special kind of hell.
He returned his attention to the little blonde. She scurried around the van, loading her arms with more supplies to bring in. He knew what she was doing; over the years various brave souls had tried to spend the night and “test” for ghostly activity so he recognized some of the equipment.
The woman hustled back and forth between the van and the saloon, dropping off her boxes, bending and stooping, t-shirt molded to her perfect breasts, jeans painted on her ass…her delicious ass…his cock stiffened.
He floated around to the front and watched her close the van doors with her foot while she juggled the final boxes in her arms.
Finally, she finished and sat down to rest for a moment.
It was about time she got here—he had almost given up on her.
He looked down at his erection. Wonder if she had a machine to measure that.