BOOK INFORMATION
Title: Wrecked
Series: Stories of Serendipity
Author: Anne Conley
Word/Page count: 70,000 words
Buy link: Amazon
BOOK SYNOPSIS
Welcome to Serendipity, Texas, where the days are hot and the nights are steamy. Read about real people finding love in a small town:
One moment of distraction, and Renae causes Jason to wreck his motorcycle, setting into motion a love affair that could be her undoing.
She has big plans for her empty nest, but one night of passion changes everything. He’s perfect. Too perfect, but her own stupidity entwines their lives together forever. What if she finds out he’s gassy, doesn’t like kittens, has a terminal illness, or…hates babies?
Jason is just visiting his dad in Serendipity, not staying. But his plans change when things with his dad are worse than he thought. Renae is a pleasant distraction, and the more he gets to know her, the more she becomes another reason to stay.
When their lives entwine, they both have choices to make, hurts to get over, and ideals to let go of. Is it possible for them to do it, in order to get their happily ever after? Or will things be wrecked?
EXCERPT
So, that was what a walk of shame felt like. Renae turned on the shower in her bathroom and stepped under the hot spray, trying to wash off last night’s lovemaking.
No. They hadn’t made love. It was amazing, mind-blowing sex. Not love. Men didn’t pick women up in bars and take them to their motel room for love-making.
She’d woke up this morning early, with a pounding headache and evidence of their lack of control dripping down her thighs. Feeling stupid, and more embarrassed than she’d felt even after Les’s public announcement of giving her over to Jason before singing Let’s Do It.
Oh Christ. What if she was pregnant? No, she couldn’t be. She was forty-four for crying out loud, nearly menopausal. God wouldn’t be so cruel as to make her pregnant now, would he? Ancient Depeche Mode lyrics floated through her brain, about God having a sick sense of humor, and when the singer died, he expect to find Him laughing. Renae groaned. Nothing to do about it now. Kelly’s favorite saying replaced the song: It is what it is.
Yup.
Initially, she’d tried to leave a note on the tiny pad provided by the motel. Each note sounded ridiculous, so she’d crumpled them up and taken them with her, not even willing to let him find them in the trash can. She’d stuffed them in her purse when she’d got to her minivan, and driven home. Maybe she would read them later, during a moment of weakness.
Besides, she wasn’t sure of the correct procedure of a one-night stand. Was she even supposed to leave notes? There was no point in extending contact, certainly not if he was leaving in two weeks. He would think she was clingy, needy even, if she left a note.
Nope. She wasn’t needy or clingy. She was doing just fine by herself. At least she hoped if she just kept telling herself that, it might be true. As if her body relished contradicting her mind, a surge of need swept through Renae, and she decided to call Kelly after her shower.
She got out of the shower and toweled herself off to hear her phone ringing. Wrapping her towel around her, she looked at the display: a number with a 281 exchange she wasn’t familiar with. She knew the area code was Houston, so she assumed it was Jason, calling to thank her f8or a good time. Renae didn’t answer. She was perfectly capable of re-living the experience without hearing his voice. His sultry voice that sounded like velvet, caressing her skin.
She shuddered at the memory of their love-making. Sex, she corrected herself. She’d never experienced sex like that, only watched it in movies. Slow, tender kisses and whispered terms of endearment. She would treasure the memories for the rest of her life. There was no way she’d be able to pick up another guy like Jason at the Gin. That night was not meant to be repeated.
Only savored in memories.
AUTHOR BIO
Anne Conley lives in rural East Texas with her husband and two children. Her days are spent writing and reading and avoiding housework at all costs.
FOLLOW LINKS
Email: anneconleyauthor@gmail.com
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