Liberating Jane
A widow’s eyes open to a whole new way of loving when she moves to a gated community, but will one man be enough for her newfound appetite for life?
When Jane, a wealthy young widow, complains of her sexual frustration in her online support group, she gets a little more than she bargained for. Beverly, another widow, suggests that what Jane really needs is a change of scene, and she knows just the place.
Within a month, Jane has sold her house in Florida and moved upstream to Winchester Drive, an expensive gated community in Massachusetts. On the outside, it looks like anywhere else, but this charming seaside community holds myriad secrets.
With a mysterious sex club, a very helpful workforce and a new psychology professor who’s just moved in around the block, this place has more than enough men to help Jane move to the next phase of her grieving process.
All she wanted was a little sexual relief, but she gets way more than she bargained for. Jane must move on from her past, learn what she really wants from the new men in her life and find a way to make it work so that everybody gets their happily ever after.
Kendra's Keeper
When Ethan, her childhood sweetheart, turns up on her doorstep, Kendra must learn to love or risk losing him once again.
Kendra, a regular member of the Winchester Widows Sex Club, is perfectly happy with the life she has built since the loss of her husband. Sure, one of her lovers is leaving to start a new life, but she still has her regular, Chip, and there’s even a new guy in the club to keep her occupied. She doesn’t get attached—and that suits her just fine.
But when her first love, Ethan, turns up on her doorstep, he brings with him painful memories of secrets and lies—feelings that Kendra has safely tucked away for years.
Can she allow him back into her life and her bed without those pesky little feelings getting in the way? Is her carefree existence not as liberated and uncomplicated as it first appears? Maybe Ethan is just what she needs to finally open her heart to love.
Sarah's Secret
Sarah has a secret. She’s on the run from some very nasty men. Can she find love—and herself—before her past catches up with her?
Sarah has recently bought a home in Winchester Drive. As is customary for the widows on the street, she has been invited to join The Winchester Widows Sex Club. Beautiful and seductive, she is a popular new addition.
But Sarah has a secret. Her name’s actually Beth, she’s in hiding—with some not-very-nice people on her tail—and she’s not even a widow.
Her estranged husband Marco is an undercover FBI agent, and when he turns up on her doorstep, that can only mean one thing…danger.
Beth is tired of running. She longs to make friends and find love again, which she does when she makes Paul’s acquaintance and finds herself smitten with him. Bonding over romantic TV shows and jigsaw puzzles, they fall deeply for each other.
But the hitman is still out there, and Paul, a law student of a nervous disposition, is not exactly ready for a life on the run.
Beth has to work out what she really wants from the men in her life, move on from her past and allow herself to finally be true to who she is.
Joy to Jane
It’s not all stockings and stuffing when Jane’s three lovers turn up at her door on Christmas Eve.
Christmas is a stressful time for anybody, but this year it’s turning out to be especially difficult for Jane Carter.
Her son, Greg, has brought home a girlfriend for the very first time, one of her boyfriends, Rupert, has decided to go full PDA on her and her other two boyfriends are feeling completely left out. Add a terrible snowstorm, a power cut and a few secrets and lies into the mix and she’s got a recipe for disaster.
Can Jane survive Christmas without her son finding out about her polyamorous love life? Can she cope with three boyfriends all under one roof, especially when it seems that those relationships are hanging on by a single thread? Maybe all she really needs is the ghost from Christmas past to remind her that communication is the key to happiness.
General Release Date: 2nd January 2024
My hands were shaking. “I’m sorry.” I was talking to the guy splayed out in front of me, but more importantly to my dead husband, whose ghost was probably floating around the room in bemusement right now.
I could almost hear the lighthearted derision in his voice as he berated me. ‘I tell you to move on after I’m gone and you find some guy off Tinder?’ I wanted to tell him that getting over him was fucking impossible, that no man could ever fill his shoes, but you see, that’s the problem with dead people—they’re never around when you need to talk.
“Do you want to stop?” asked the very horny, very down-to-fuck, very not dead man in my bed.
“No. Please, I do want this.” I did. I really, truly wanted this guy to fuck me senseless. It was just, well, awkward. This bed hadn’t seen a man since David died and frankly it was weirding me out a little. I needed to stop messing about and get on with it. Get back on the bike or the horse, or in this case the huge dick.
I unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it open, scraping my nails across his chest, just enough to make him wince. Beverly’s advice was perfect—getting your nails done for a date was a solid plan. I felt a lot less like a soccer mom and more like a sexy little minx. The buttons on his jeans popped open with ease, releasing him. I hadn’t needed to take them off to see what I was dealing with—the bulge in his pants left nothing to the imagination—but holy cocksuckers, people, I was not disappointed with the beast I’d freed.
“Like what you see, huh?” he said, waving it in my face. I bent down to inspect it further. Straight as a die. As impeccably groomed as the rest of his body. I gave it a lick, just a tiny taste. Hmmm. Okay. I popped my mouth on, just to see. It fitted perfectly. A match made in heaven. His hands settled onto my head, gripping the roots of my hair, but the glare I threw him sent them scurrying away.
My terms—that was what we had agreed on. If we did it, we did it my way or not at all. I lifted my head. “You got protection?”
“Do I need it? I mean, aren’t you on the pill or something?”
“What? I’m a fucking widow.”
“You’re right, sorry. I’m just used to, you know, younger women—they’re always up for a bit of bareback.”
“Jesus Christ.” He smiled and winked at me. Pathetic. I took a deep breath and thought of the orgasms.
You can do this, Jane—just one quick fuck and you never have to see him again.
He handed me a condom. I slowly ripped it open with my teeth and slid it down on to his dick. It had been a while, but I still had it. Next thing to be sliding down that dick would be me and I couldn’t wait any longer. It had been eight endless months since my husband had dearly departed this earth and, damn it, a woman has needs.
I climbed up his body and slid right down onto him. No need for foreplay—I’d practically come in my pants when he kissed me outside the restaurant.
Maybe I was seventeen and virginal once again. Or maybe he just had a big dick. Whatever the reason, I was tightly wrapped around him and it was amazing.
This wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
I rode up and down on him just long enough to tire the muscles in my legs—about thirty seconds, to be honest, I hadn’t exactly been hitting the gym lately—then rolled us over, pulling his hand onto my clit as we went.
“Make me come,” I cried and prepared to be nailed into oblivion but he jerked and squealed a little, then flopped down onto me.
“Fuck, that was awesome.”
“But…” But my orgasm, you dickwad.
“I think, no, I know it. I love you, Jane.” Then, no word of a lie, he started to cry. I peeled him off me and mumbled something about needing a shower. Shit. He was in my house. How was I going to get him to leave? I thanked Madonna, the patron saint of sexual liberation, for having had the foresight to sell my house a few days before this disaster of a date. I’d soon be moving up the country to Massachusetts, as far away from this idiot as the moving truck could take me.
I headed downstairs, served myself a large bourbon, neat, and switched on my laptop. I clicked on my social media page, entered my password and started to type, ‘Fuck it ladies, you are never going to believe what just happened.’
* * * *
It hadn’t even been an hour, probably more like forty-five minutes before the casseroles started arriving. I’d read about it in the welcome pack that Beverly had been kind enough to email me, but the sheer amplitude of the visitors to my door was overwhelming to say the least.
This time it was three impeccably coiffed women in their early thirties who were hovering on my doorstep with a huge basket of carbs. The gentle warmth of the Cape Cod summer, far from the sweltering Florida heat I’d come from, relieved me of any obligation to invite them in.
“Hi, I’m Sally, this is Kendra and Barb. We were put in charge of desserts, so I made you some of my famous muffins.”
“Thank you.” I did what I thought probably looked like a smile. I’d taken an Ambien about half an hour ago, in the hope of getting in an afternoon nap before I needed to start unpacking, but clearly life had other plans. I could be naked in front of them right now and have no idea.
I should’ve invited them in—that would’ve been the polite thing to do—but the couch was still wrapped from the move. I didn’t even know where my dining room chairs were and, quite frankly, I just couldn’t give a shit about being polite on moving day. “I know what you’re thinking, but don’t you dare invite us in, we know exactly what it’s like to move here alone. Trust me, you’re going to need a good couple of days to get yourself sorted.” Thank you for small mercies. I honestly couldn’t cope with chitchat at the moment. Sleep had evaded me for, well, months and I’d rather poke my eyes out with sticks than make nice with strangers.
David had always been the one who had answered the door, dealt with people. I was more than happy to be the strong, silent woman behind the man. Until there was no man. And I was no longer strong. He’d been in my life since we were seventeen. Young love and an unexpected pregnancy had thrown us in the deep end, but I hadn’t regretted it for a second, not even when his ailing body had failed him and I’d given up everything to spend the last year of his life nursing him twenty-four hours a day.
“We’re having a little ladies’ night on Saturday. Now, I know you’re new and you don’t know anybody yet, but you just have to come. Barb here is making margaritas and Beverly is setting us up a projector in the backyard. Romcoms and cocktails, it’ll be a blast. Promise me you’ll come.”
“Oh well, I don’t really…”
“Just give it a try.” Kendra’s voice was quieter and more restrained than Sally’s. She gave me a smile that said ‘I hate it too, but we have to do this kind of thing’ and I knew exactly what she meant. For the last nine months, the whole world had been telling me I needed to go out, socialize, meet new people. That was how I’d ended up here in the first place. A widow’s group on social media. When it came to selling the house, one of the girls had suggested Winchester Drive, and here I was. A gated community in a respectable part of the state. House prices were high, but this place was special. Over half of the homeowners were widows. Cougar Town, my son had called it when I’d announced my move.
“I would love to, thank you, ladies, that sounds really nice.”
I closed the door and plonked down on the stairs. When I’d told the group that I was looking at a house on Winchester Drive I must have gotten over thirty new friend requests, plus an invitation to a more private group called the Winchester Widows.
They’d convinced me to stay more than anything else. No pressure to find a new husband. No shame in being a miserable bitch in public. Wear black, they’d said, or hot pink or whatever the fuck you want. Weep loudly, party hard, drink a little too much or not at all. The WWs accepted your grief however the hell you wanted to do it and they didn’t judge you an ounce.
Plus, I thought as I bit into Sally’s muffins, they made damn good desserts. That, my friend, is exactly what the doctor ordered.
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