Finally Available!!!

I hope you'll take the time to read the excerpt and consider buying this one. It's my favorite thus far in my writing career and one I'm very proud of.

It's available now as an ebook and coming soon in print:)

About the book

True love hides where you least suspect it.

After the truth comes out about her age, forty-something porn star Simone Sinclair is handed her walking papers, ending a career that has become more extreme sport than art form. The final straw is her long-time partner’s idea to start their own international studio with a marriage proposal tossed in to sweeten the deal. After two decades of waiting for him to deliver the white picket fence, it’s not exactly the offer she was expecting.

At least she doesn’t need a man to answer the alarm of her biological clock. And when she shares a dance with Geri, one of her lesbian gal pals, she discovers she doesn’t need a man to fulfill other fantasies, either. But Geri’s not interested in touch and tease—she wants more than Simone is ready to give.

Torn between three dreams—a post-retirement career, a family, or lasting love—Simone retreats to get her head on straight, coming to one conclusion. She can’t have everything. But two out of three is worse than nothing at all…

Warning: Contains an over-the-hill porn star with a lot of attitude and a biological clock that is ticking out of control, who refuses to admit she’s a lesbian until her best gal pal convinces her to cross the lines of friendship. There’s bondage in the back of an ambulance, sex on a public picnic table, and a steamy encounter in the back of a limo. There’s also some super-steamy strap-on action that will challenge every preconceived notion you’ve ever had about female-female encounters.

An excerpt from the book

The boys at the bar start making noise, trying to draw attention and, as I shove my unanswered phone back into my hip pocket, I realize that I’m in enough of a mood to give it to them. Why men think loud and obnoxious equates to sexy is beyond me. I unzip my gray hoodie and pull it off, revealing that I am wearing a tiny white tank with no bra underneath. “I’ll take care of the appetizer order.”

“No, Simone.” Geri puts a restraining hand on my arm. I jerk out of her grip, daring her with my eyes to try to stop me. Our gazes catch, we both bristle.

“Let her be.” Tina leans a shoulder in close to Geri, whispering as she does loudly enough for us both to hear, “Can’t you tell she needs to blow off some steam?”

I lift my eyebrow in a singular challenge at Geri before turning on them both to saunter over to the bar, squeezing between the two loudest men. I give the bartender our table number and appetizer order, taking the pint of O’Hara’s Irish Red she hands me with a wink, knowing she means for this one to be on the house. “Thanks, Sandy.”

I wink at her with a smirk. The beer seems a fair exchange for the scene we both know is coming, since I go way back with Sandy. Even though she knew me in the days I would never have started anything. That was her job then—head cheerleader at Pasadena High, chief troublemaker, center of the limelight. I was the one pushed as close to the wall, hiding as far in the shadows as I could get, though by watching, I knew how a girl like Sandy handled herself. I guess we’ve just changed roles in the last few decades. Now I’m in the limelight, scene-stealer, sometimes troublemaker. I smile at the flash of memory, from the time before I was ever known as Simone.

The girl I was then wasn’t bold. Or sexy. And I’ve spent twenty years perfecting both.

Whipping the elastic tie from my ponytail, I let my hair fall around my shoulders, shaking it free. I lean back against the bar, lift the frosted mug to my lips and drop my head back, stretching my neck out as I chug. Right on cue, the loudest of the obnoxious boys puts his hand on my shoulder. “Well, hello beautiful.”

I turn to face him, running the mouth of the cool glass along my bottom lip, before asking seductively, “Hello, yourself. What’s your name?”

“They call me Jim.”

“Oh they do, do they?” I ask, eyes widening for effect. On the inside, my femme fatale is doing a happy dance. I want him to want me. I want him to want me so bad his balls ache from the wanting…right up until the moment I smack down his ego with rejection. I almost feel sorry for him. I’ve spent twenty years perfecting sexy and, noting that he is probably all of twenty-five, know his hormone-ruled mind doesn’t stand a chance. Such a baby face and a body that five years ago may have been sculpted of stone but has recently gone soft, making him appear even younger, despite his two-day growth of stubble.

He nods, leaning in close enough to gag me on his heavy, cheap cologne. He reaches up to stroke my hair and I grab his testicles through his jeans, squeezing hard, too hard for him to jerk free. “Did they ever tell you that it was impolite to touch a girl without asking permission? ’Cause I bust balls bigger than yours every day and I really don’t like being touched without being asked. Call it my pet peeve.”

Jim starts stuttering and fidgeting around, but getting out of my grip isn’t going to be easy. The man beside him starts laughing, “I told you man, don’t be messing with those Lesbos! This’ll teach you.”

“Oh, I don’t swing that way,” I correct, winking.

The man standing behind Jim points at me, mouth gaping, “Oh my God!” He hits the man identified as Jim on the back of his head. “Do you know who she is?”

He shakes his head, still looking down at his crotch, no doubt wondering how he is going to get free from the vice-grip my fingers have on his balls.

“You idiot. She’s that famous…” he stumbles over the words and I supply, “Porn star?”

The friend nods emphatically. “You know, she did that thing last summer.”

Jim looks at him as if he doesn’t know what his friend is talking about. “What the fuck are you talking about, Luke?”

The man now identified as Luke looks embarrassed, trying to jog Jim’s memory. I supply one, “Did you see the video that was made to commemorate the world’s longest daisy chain?”

Jim’s eyes brighten.


He seems to forget that I could easily destroy any chance he ever had of procreating when he blurts, “Holy shit! You don’t say! You’re that bitch who—” He is interrupted by Luke smacking him on the back of his head hard enough to make him grunt. “Yeah, that, fool. Don’t go all crude now. Simone hangs with famous people, you know, rock stars and shit. Just last week she was clubbing in Aspen with Tommy Lee. You don’t touch a woman like that! And you don’t talk about her like she’s yesterday’s trash. Now, you say you’re sorry!”

“Sorry.” He does as he’s told, looking sheepish, and I wonder if he is even twenty-five. “I don’t suppose I could get your autograph?”

“No.” I shake my head, admonishing him, “Now why don’t you boys go find some other bar to be loud and obnoxious in?”

I release his balls and give both him and Luke a shove toward the door before taking my beer. I watch to make sure they’ve taken my advice before going back to the table. I arrive at the same time as the appetizers and find myself in the middle of a debate about how the porn industry contributes to the victimization of women. I pull my hoodie back on, pushing my arms into the sleeves and pulling the hood over my hair, trying once again to hide the fact that I am a girl, or sexy.

Thankfully, the food quiets the table for the length of time it takes for the first round of bangers with chips and tortillas with spinach dip to disappear. My reprieve ends as I grab the last handful of golden fried chips.

“You totally disgust me.” Geri leans across the table, pointing a finger at me from the hand-wrap she has around her beer. “Don’t get me wrong, I love you, but what you do…it’s just gross.” She smiles and I know she is trying to goad me into a fight, even if it is friendly verbal sparring. The problem is that the more Geri drinks, the more vocal she gets, and I do not need the entire bar crowd hearing us fight over the fact that I am a porn star.

“You know, Geri, I won’t be offended because once, I was just like you, having all manner of puritanical prejudices trapped inside my head. I’m not going to apologize for who I am or what I do.” I’m smiling, laughing really, because the difference between her and me is really as close as one person stepping in and changing your life…by changing how you think. For me, it was Simon.

I look at Geri, seeing her as a beautiful woman, even though every man at the bar would disagree with that statement. Sure, she’s butch, and brawn, but she glows with an inner beauty that is spellbinding. I pull my eyes from her, trying to keep it from being obvious that I’m staring at her. Of all the girls at the table, I know her least, and I hate that, but there has always been a barrier between what could be a better friendship. I don’t try to overanalyze it.

It would be simple if it was just my profession and, though I’m not sure when my job started disturbing her so much, I know that the tension was there before her irritation at what I do for a living. That part has only recently gotten worse, seeming to make the divide between us worse. I don’t back down, though, despite my desire to be better friends. “I’m. A. Porn star. Geri. Deal with it.”


Jolie Cain said...

Sounds delish. And great cover!

Roxy Harte said...

Thx Jolie, It was a lot of fun to write and I hope a lot of readers will give it a read:)