Angela and her brand-new husband Josh have just arrived at their honeymoon destination, a romantic bed-and-breakfast hotel on the breath-taking Washington coast – the Inn on the Edge. But everything isn’t as it seems. The lessons that come free with the room aren’t for painting the lovely coastal scenery – the lessons are for better sex. Angie and Josh, shocked and titillated, immerse themselves in every sensual offering.It doesn’t take long for things to go horribly wrong. The discover that the old man running the place is a sex demon, who has been stealing their sensual energy. Worse, he’s dangerously in love with Angie and he has plans for her – plans involving an heirloom wedding ring. Coming soon http://www.ellorascave.com/inn-on-the-edge.html
The Inn on the Edge Excerpt (warning, it get s a little spicy!)
The Washington State map flapped against my face, threatening to fling itself out the open car window and into the scrubby-looking trees at the side of the road. I folded the annoying thing and stuffed it in the folds of white satin draped over my lap. There. That was better. I shifted in my seat, wondering how long it would be before I could get out of my hot, itchy wedding dress. The fabric tugged and pulled and scratched—obviously, wedding dresses were never meant to be comfortable. That’s why most brides change out of them before setting off for their honeymoons.
Josh had asked me not to.
I breathed deeply, willing myself to be patient, hoping we were nearing our destination. At least the landscape was changing. It felt cooler here, near the Washington coast, and wetter too. I thought I could smell the ocean. I sat up straighter, hoping for a glimpse. “Josh,” I said, breaking a long silence, “tell me again—howdid you find this place? The Inn on the Edge?”
Josh glanced at me. “You already know how. The internet.”
“But it’s…you know. Strange. An odd choice for a honeymoon. Four couples together for an entire week—that’s kind of different, wouldn’t you say?”
He smiled. “You like different, babe. And you asked for a surprise, remember?”
“Mmm. But are you sure I’m supposed to wear the dress? At check-in?”
This time his glance lingered on me for so long I almost told him to pay attention to his driving. “You’re so beautiful, Angie. Even with your hair whipping around like that. And the red spots on your cheeks. Beautiful.” His knuckles gripped the steering wheel. “I can’t wait to get there. To get you out of that dress!”
“Me neither.” I reached over and squeezed his knee. It felt warm.
“The inn gave us a great deal!” he said, his leg jiggling under my hand. “A huge discount for newlyweds.”
“Really? How huge?”
He grinned. “I’m not telling. But to get the special rate we had to come straight from the reception. Still in our wedding clothes.”
“The food is supposed to be out of this world. Highest ratings I’ve ever seen.”
“Good. I’m ravenous.”
“And there’s more.”
I waited. I squeezed his leg for good measure.
“Hints I’ve read online. Nothing very clear.” He glanced at me, a glint in his eyes. “About…um…sex. I think.”
“People rated the place for sex?”
“Yes! The setting is supposed to be perfect for it. Romantic as all hell. People say they return from their honeymoons invigorated. Raring to go. With new—ah…tricks in their arsenal.”
I laughed. It sounded good to me. Who wouldn’t like a new trick or two? I ran my hand up and down the fine fabric of his suit pants, feeling his muscles move as he drove. I caressed his thigh, moved toward his crotch then back to his thigh, carefully steering clear of sensitive things that ought not be messed with while driving.
But wanting to in the worst way.
About the author
I have three grown children. I live in Seattle, Washington with my husband and our five cats. In the past I have worked in a variety of different artistic media. I have a BFA in painting from the University of Washington, and for over fifteen years I made award-winning Fine Art Jewelry (silver and handmade ceramics) and sold my work at local and regional Fine Art and Craft shows. My business, Vivid Arts, flourished – but always, I felt driven to write. Two years ago, no longer able to deny the writing muse, I took an open-ended sabbatical from my art shows. Since then, I’ve written two novels and a number of published and unpublished short stories.