BOOK BLURB: A wild night of meaningless sex is all best friends Connie Hollingsway and Nicci Sullivan have in mind when they approach a beyond handsome, younger man in the Cougar Cave bar. They soon realize they have taken on more than they bargained for.
Can three lonely people keep pain, bitterness, and grief at bay or will emotional fireworks tear down the walls surrounding their hearts?
“As far as Connie Hollingsway was concerned, she’d just found the meat filling for her hero sandwich. She cast a quick glance to her best friend, Nicole Sullivan, and amended her statement to our hero sandwich.
Bass from inane techno music reverberated off the wood-paneled walls of the club called the Cougar Cave that she and Nicci were at tonight. Connie’s gaze slid back to the man sitting alone in a booth directly across from them and further down the wall. The man, in a word, was perfect. Ascertaining his age was difficult under the flashing strobe lights, plus he sat directly underneath a neon sign for Budweiser, which cast a reddish glow over a stunningly rugged, handsome face. The layered and tousled hair looked as if he had just rolled out of bed. Milk chocolate would be the way she’d describe the color. Like all young guys, he had a scruff of facial hair, but Connie’s keen eye could make out the sexy cleft in his perfectly shaped chin. There were six empty beer bottles in front of him, and he’d just waved his arm to the waiter for more. A sly smile curved about Connie’s mouth. If man-meat was drunk enough, he may be open and willing to consider her suggestion. Leaning toward Nicci to talk about her idea, the words died in her throat when man-meat stood, shook off his leather jacket, and hung it on the coat rack attached to the back of the bench seat. He was taller than she first imagined, a few inches over six feet to be sure. A skin tight black T-shirt hugged every valley and plane of his powerful physique. Man-meat was cut, chiseled, honed, and sharpened into hardened precision, enough to rival those marble statues of Greek gods. The T-shirt, tucked into a pair of incredibly tight blue jeans, showed his torso to sculpted perfection. Fabric strained across rock hard thighs, a muscular ass and—Connie’s held breath whooshed out in a moan—showed off his impressive package to perfection.
She had to get a closer look.
While his build and his aura evoked a certain maturity, there were no telltale lines fanning out from the eyes to show he may be in his thirties, nor were there heavily cut lines around his mouth. Damn, how young was he? Who cared? He was getting drunk at the Cougar Cave so naturally the man would be interested in an older woman.
Wonder how he would feel about two women?”
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