Archive for the ‘Free Reads’ Category

Accidental Witch, Final Episode

Monday, April 11th, 2016
It’s a brand new story from the Sexy Scribblers!

The Sexy Scribblers is a group of 14 authors who create short stories for your reading pleasure.

To find out more about us, check out our mission and who we are on my Sexy Scribblers page.

Need to catch up? Read the previous episodes first.

Episode One * Episode Two  * Episode Three * Episode Four * Episode Five * Episode 6 * Episode 7

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Episode Eight

By Lena Hart

 

Mary’s heart dropped at the sight of the dark shadows looming over the Pastry Bitch like menacing claws. They swooped down sharply, and she jumped out of her seat.

“Stop!”

The shadows instantly fell away like a black drape, disintegrating into dust. Stirling pulled her back down to her seat as a hush whisper began to travel through the crowd at her sudden outburst.

Mary ignored the curious gazes and rounded on her date. “Why did you do that?”

Stirling cocked a brow. “That was not me, love. That darkness manifested from you.”

What was he talking about? She didn’t have darkness in her. She was a good person—she just didn’t like to be walked all over. Or accused of doing something she hadn’t.

“How…”

“It appears you hold more power than you realize, Mary.” He smirked. “And you’re more vindictive than you think.”

She stared at him then down at her hands, incredulous. “You’re crazy if you’re saying what I think you’re saying…”

“And what is it that you think I’m saying?”

“That I’m a…witch?”

“A very unseasoned one, but you’ll learn.”

Mary’s heart began to race at what he’d just confirmed. Did she really contain that kind of magic in her?

“And once you grow into your own, you’ll find your path.”

“My path to what?”

“The dark or the light.”

“You mean I’m either going to be good or evil?”

“More or less.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to be wicked, but I can’t let the Pastry Bitch get away with ruining my career.”

“You want revenge, then take it.”

“I want to have her hair fall out. I want ants to come pouring out of her chocolate soufflé. I don’t want to actually kill her.”

“You can do all of that and more, love.” Stirling leaned back in his seat and assessed her quietly. “But will any of that satisfy you?”

Yes.

Mary glanced at where the Pastry Bitch stood at the far end of the room, admiring her work as the attendants began to serve her popular dessert to the guests. Mary should have been standing there, too. She’d put in just as much work into this function to make it a success, and that moment of glory had been taken from her.

But looking around the room, it was hard not to let the delight from the guests lift her spirits. She may not get the acknowledgement for it, but she would take pleasure in knowing that she’d been a part of putting those smiles on these people’s faces.

Mary sighed in resignation. To hell with the Pastry Bitch. She would let karma take this one.

“If I have to be a witch,” Mary murmured, “I prefer not to be a green one.”

Stirling chuckled. “I can see you’ve watched too many movies. Witches are actually quite attractive.” He winked at her. “Exceptionally so.”

Mary’s eyes widened. “You’re a—” She didn’t bother completing the sentence. Of course he was a witch. He’d practically told on himself with his impossible good looks—and that blood pen he kept in his pocket. “So are you a good witch or a bad one?”

“What do you think?” he asked, taking a sip of his champagne.

Mary tilted her head to the side. “I don’t know. I have a feeling you’re only good when it suits you…”

“You’re very perceptive. That’s a useful trait to have with your kind of power.”

“Can you teach me to be a good witch?”

He carefully placed his glass down then lovingly ran the pad of his thumb over her cheek. She trembled from the delicate touch.

“I can teach you a lot of things, love. And I plan to. But goodness is as innate as it is subjective. Goodness is having the power to steal every soul in this room but choosing not to.”

She stared at him blankly. “You can do that? Steal souls?”

“Yes.” His dark eyes flashed brilliantly. He leaned down and lightly brushed his lips across hers. “But I’d rather steal your heart.”

As he deepened the kiss, Mary lost herself in his embrace. In that moment, she forgot about everything—and everyone—and concentrated only on Stirling Drake and the sensuous spell he casted with his lips.

The End!

 

Watch for the next exciting story to come from the pens of the Sexy Scribblers!

#Episode Sexy Scribblers and Ivy Lane Episode 4

Monday, July 20th, 2015

Story Time 1

 

19 Ivy Lane

Episode 4

by Lena Hart

http://www.lenahartsite.com/

You can find this and other episodes, as well as past stories, on the blogs of the any of the participating authors as well as on the Sexy Scribbler’s Facebook page and Website.

 

There were 19 reasons why his Eloisa shouldn’t be at a place like Momence—and 19 Ivy Lane was one of them.

Ecko Bane strode up to the modest yet aging home and gave several hard knocks on the door. He could understand why Eloisa had fled California. The wake of bodies she had left behind had forced her into hiding. But he couldn’t understand what had possessed her to move to a place like this.

He’d only arrived in the small town a few hours ago and had heard enough gossip of the blue-eyed “blonde” than an outsider should have. He hadn’t even seen her yet, and already he missed her flaxen curls.

When no answer came, Ecko forced his way into the old house. He knew she was here. Her scent was distinct—along with that of the men trapped inside.

Ecko didn’t have to go far to find the unconscious men, some staring off at nothing and one slumped over a supremely polished table.

He frowned. Eloisa only polished when she was struggling to curb her hunger. The way the wooden table glistened against the afternoon light, she was clearly at her breaking point. She had written him and he’d come, but obviously not in time.

Ecko clenched his teeth, taking in the number of hypnotized men, trying not to think of what she had, or hadn’t, done with them. The men weren’t dead, but they were locked in a deep erotic trance—her way of preserving her hunt.

But they had an agreement, and it didn’t include this. He glanced around the room again. He had one hell of a mess to clean up. Her hunger was getting out of control, and he needed to find her. Fast.

Ecko made his way to the back of the house. It was in the kitchen that he found her, straddling a poor, defenseless mail carrier with her blue dress hiked up just below her round, lush ass. Her head was bent over the man as she held his head steady with both hands.

The familiar jealousy Ecko had once thought himself cured of, returned full force. This was why he could never make her his. Not in the way he wanted, anyway. She couldn’t curb her appetite, and he had never been good at sharing.

With a low growl, he jerked her off the dazed man. She spun around to face him, and her once deep blue eyes were now black with unleashed hunger.

“Lise!” He gave her a small shake. “Baby, snap out of it.”

He knew it was dangerous to stop her during a feeding, and he braced himself for an attack. Instead she blinked up at him, her deceptively calm mask crumbling as her gaze focused on him.

“E?” She glanced back at the mailman then turned back to him. There was remorse in her now dark eyes, but intense hunger still burned bright in them. “I-I’m sorry. I tried to fight it, but… I-I need to feed.”

Ecko stared down at her, his nostrils flaring as his body reacted to her unbridled lust. He understood her struggle even though he didn’t like it. Besides, he had agreed to fulfill her appetite until they could find another way to control her hunger. He wouldn’t deny her now.

Ecko offered no resistance when she jerked him forward and pressed her soft lips against his. His own appetite for her was always insatiable.

Lifting her high, he sat her down on the granite counter and her long legs instantly wrapped around his hips. She didn’t need to use any of her usual tricks on him. He was effortlessly sucked into her erotic spell.

This is what he got for loving the likes of Eloisa Sinclair—my demon witch.

My damn succubus.

 

 

Tune in tomorrow for the next episode in

19 Ivy Lane

 

Sexy Scribblers on Facebook

Sexy Scribblers Website

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Missed an episode of 19 Ivy Lane?

Episode 1 * Episode 2 * Episode 3

 

The Sexy Scribblers publish two stories a month, each running for 6 consecutive days, an episode at a time.
The first story starts on the 1st Friday, and the second story starts on the 3rd Friday .
Watch for the next upcoming story, part 2 of Scandalous starting on August 7th.

#Episode Sexy Scribblers and Ivy Lane Episode 3

Sunday, July 19th, 2015

Story Time 1

 

19 Ivy Lane

Episode 3

by

Kishan Paul

http://kishanpaul.net/

You can find this and other episodes, as well as past stories, on the blogs of the any of the participating authors as well as on the Sexy Scribbler’s Facebook page and Website.

 

 Oblivious to the rain, Victor stood frozen outside Eloisa’s window staring into her home. Men he’d never seen before occupied the seats in her tiny living room. Dressed in black lace which concealed nothing, she served them tea and snacks while the strangers nodded and eyed her with obvious lust.

This was a far different woman than the one who greeted him on his daily mail route. But that wasn’t the only reason he was stunned. Every night in his dreams, the same scandalously clad vixen visited him. It was the same each time. Seductively dressed, she would climb into his bed and do things to him that made him blush to even think about afterwards. Never had he hungered for sleep as much as he had of late. What man wouldn’t? Her ample breasts, full hips and those lips, the beautiful things those lips could do…

Before he finished the thought, her gaze locked with his. Eloisa’s eyes widened with recognition while his face burned with shame. He stepped away only to slip on slick gravel, fall and slam the back of his head against the rocks. A flash of pain shot through him moments before darkness numbed it away.

A few seconds later, the soft drizzle of rain spattered on his face, pulling him out of his uncomfortable slumber. Victor touched the wet, throbbing ache in the back of his neck. That would need to be dealt with, but first he needed to get out of her yard fast. He crawled to his knees and as he rose to his feet, noticed his soaked postal bag lying a few feet away. Just as he hung its strap over his shoulder and began his escape to the road, Eloisa’s front door swung open.

“Mr. Burnham, is that you?”

Standing in Eloisa’s lawn with nowhere to hide, he had no other choice but face her and confess his sins.

“I am very sor…” His words of apology vanished as soon as she came into view. He sucked in a breath, and for the second time in minutes found himself speechless.

She stood a few feet away on her porch. Her hair neatly pulled back from her face. The tiny black lace she wore moments ago, replaced with a pale blue dress that fell to her ankles.

Victor blinked a few times. The fall must have jostled his brain. Or maybe he had blacked out for minutes rather than seconds.

She crossed her arms and tilted her head, eyeing him with suspicion. “Mr. Burnham, is there a reason for your visit?”

He inched closer to the porch and looked past her, into the open door of her home. Empty. Even the table was clear of dishes.

She cleared her throat, drawing his attention to her crystal blue eyes.

Victor rubbed the sore spot on the back of his neck. “I’m sorry to bother you, Ms. Sinclair. I came to deliver the mail and when you weren’t at the box, I worried.”

“That was very kind of you but as you can see, I am fine.”

He leaned to the side for a better view of the living room. Still empty. Victor looked back at the road and then to the house. They must have left while he was unconscious.

She stepped into his path and raised her brows. “Is there any other reason for your visit, Mr. Burnham?”

“Oh. Sorry, yes. There is a reason. I have mail.” Victor dug into the bag. “For you.” He pulled out the letter. “It came today, and I thought you would want it.”

Her eyes widened and when she stretched out her hand to receive the mail, he could have sworn it shook.

Well, she had caught him peeping through her window—a disturbing experience for anyone, much less a single woman. Victor’s cheeks warmed. He dropped the letter in her palm and turned to leave with what little dignity he had left.

“Mr. Burnham?”

He paused dreading what would come next. “Yes?”

“Your head is bleeding. Why don’t you come inside and let me tend to it?”

 

 

Tune in tomorrow for the next episode in

19 Ivy Lane

 

Sexy Scribblers on Facebook

Sexy Scribblers Website

Revised Header

Missed an episode of 19 Ivy Lane?

Episode 1 * Episode 2

 

The Sexy Scribblers publish two stories a month, each running for 6 consecutive days, an episode at a time. The first story starts on the 1st Friday, and the second story starts on the 3rd Friday .
Watch for the next upcoming story, part 2 of Scandalous starting on August 7th.

#Episode Sexy Scribblers 19 Ivy Lane Episode 2

Saturday, July 18th, 2015

Story Time 2

Welcome to the next Sexy Scribblers episode! 

This story is coming to you, one episode at a time. Each story has been written by a group of 6 authors. Sometimes the story ends at 6 episodes, sometimes at 12, but each author takes a turn to write an episode and then passes it on to the next author in line.
 There is no brainstorming, no plotting, no pre-planning at all. We have no idea how the starting author will begin the story, or even what kind of story she will write. We know nothing about the characters or the genre until the episode has been completed and passed on.  And then the next author takes it in whatever direction they want. It’s a complete mystery to everyone how each story will develop and end.

~ ~ ~

19 Ivy Lane

Episode 2

 by Anne Lange

 http://authorannelange.com/

 

You will find this and future episodes on the blogs of the any of the participating authors as well as on the Sexy Scribbler’s Facebook page and Website.

 

Eloisa leaned over the scratched wooden table she’d polished to a high gloss, before covering it with the nicest tea towel she owned. She offered the gentleman a warm pastry wrapped sausage.

She managed to contain the eye roll as his gaze shot directly to her cleavage. She’d spent the morning cleaning and preparing, and all they noticed was her breasts. Not that she carried anything of great measure above the waist, but in the teeny tiny maid’s outfit her less than ample bosom was plumped high enough to create quite the spectacle.

She should be mortified.

Unfortunately, she’d lost all sense of humility long ago.

With no other options available, she’d taken matters into her own hands. She’d prepared herself, even before coming to Momence, to do whatever necessary. However, she preferred not to let her mind consider the worst-case scenario, no matter how dire the situation. She needed to pretend that the likelihood of that happening was beyond reason. Everything else she’d suffer through without complaint.

When she’d discovered the house on 19 Ivy Lane, it was like the Good Lord had heard her prayers and sent her a sign. Too bad it didn’t come equipped with the funds to cover the upkeep of the home. The maintenance company had done a fine job with the outside. But she hated that she also needed to worry about appearances inside the house.

Because she knew better than most, that appearances were deceiving.

They certainly fooled her.

What worried her most, at the moment, was that E.B. hadn’t responded to her many pleas. Where the hell was that man? She couldn’t decide if she should be angry or fearful.

In the meantime, the town’s curiosity would be their downfall. Why people couldn’t just mind their own damn business was beyond her. You’d think after all these years, she’d be immune to it.

A breeze blew across her bare behind. Did I leave a window open?

Something wet and a bit rough trailed a path up the back of her thigh towards her…

She spun on her toes, nearly toppling the tray of food onto the lap of another gentleman. She couldn’t remember that one’s name. Though his shy smile and nice eyes didn’t leave her desperate for a shower with scalding hot water.

Mr. Taylor,” she spit out between clenched teeth. “I told you, no touching.”

He sneered up at her. His cruel grin set her back teeth to grinding. “I simply want to sample the merchandise.”

“I’m not for sale, sir.” How many times would she have to repeat that phrase in her lifetime? Oh, E.B. where are you?

“You may talk like a lady. You may even look like a lady most of the time. But with your ass bared in such a teasing way and your tits on display, you’re not much of a lady… Ma’am.”

If he only knew.

A shift of movement caught her attention, dragging her glare away from the horrid man kneeling at her feet, a grubby hand on his crotch and a dribble of drool running down his chin. The thought that she might be ill, coincided with a surprised gasp as her gaze met that of Victor Burnham’s.

His face, haloed by the setting sun filtering through the large oak across the road, stared at her through her front bay window. The drapes. I forgot about the drapes. His mouth hung open in a big “o”, his eyes round as saucers, his cheeks flushed pink and his fingers spread wide, palms flat against the pane of glass.

She turned her head. Her gaze swept the room seeing it as he did. Damn. She closed her eyes and sighed.

E.B. I could really use you right now!

 

Tune in tomorrow for the next episode of 19 Ivy Lane

Missed an episode?

Episode 1

~ * ~

Revised Header

You can read previously released stories and past episodes on the Sexy Scribblers FB page or Website

Sexy Scribblers on Facebook

Sexy Scribblers Website

 The Sexy Scribblers publish two stories a month, each running for six consecutive days, an episode at a time.

The first story starts on the 1st Friday, and the second story starts on the 3rd Friday .

Watch for Part 2 of Scandalous , beginning on August 7th.

 

#Episode Sexy Scribblers 19 Ivy Lane Episode 1

Friday, July 17th, 2015

Story Time 2

Welcome to the next Sexy Scribblers episode! 

This story is coming to you, one episode at a time. Each story has been written by a group of 6 authors. Sometimes the story ends at 6 episodes, sometimes at 12, but each author takes a turn to write an episode and then passes it on to the next author in line.
 There is no brainstorming, no plotting, no pre-planning at all. We have no idea how the starting author will begin the story, or even what kind of story she will write. We know nothing about the characters or the genre until the episode has been completed and passed on.  And then the next author takes it in whatever direction they want. It’s a complete mystery to everyone how each story will develop and end.

~ ~ ~

19 Ivy Lane

Episode 1

 by Aubrey Wynne

 http://aubreywynneauthor.com/

 

You will find this and future episodes on the blogs of the any of the participating authors as well as on the Sexy Scribbler’s Facebook page and Website.

 

She stood waiting by the gate with a letter, as she did everyday. Victor Burnham readjusted the mailbag on his shoulder and gave her a sad smile. Eloisa refused to acknowledge the sympathy and gave him a wide grin that lit up her deep, blue eyes. She scooped her long, blonde hair back from her face with one slender hand and held out an envelope with the other.

He took it from her and placed it with the rest of the outgoing mail. “Nice weather we’re having for August, don’t ya think?”

“Yes,” she answered, her gaze holding his steady. “Anything for me today?”

Victor looked down at his feet. “No, ma’am, I’m sorry. Not today.”

Her expression never faltered. “Well then, perhaps tomorrow. Yes, perhaps tomorrow.” She turned back toward the house.

He watched her walk up the stairs to the porch, her thin cotton dress swaying around her ankles. The sun shone through the material, and he could see the silhouette of long, slender legs. Who does she write to each night? As he continued his route, he wondered. The look of expectancy on her face told him it had to be a man.

Eloisa Sinclair provided hours of delightful gossip for the small Midwest town of Momence. It seemed she had taken up residence at 19 Ivy Lane almost overnight. The house, vacant for the past ten years, had been taken over by a bank when the owners went bankrupt. A maintenance company out of Chicago kept up the property and replaced the “For Sale” sign each year with a new shiny one. Then one day this past June, the sign was gone. The local realtor said he’d had a phone call from an attorney and given instructions to leave the keys in the mailbox.

Two days later, Ms. Sinclair appeared at the gate and greeted Victor. She handed him a letter addressed to E. B with a post office box in San Diego, California. He mentioned the weather, she answered and their daily routine began. She visited the grocery store once a week, nodded to other patrons but never engaged in conversation. New theories about the town’s mystery woman now surfaced weekly at the local diner.

“I heard she’s a widow and writes to her dead husband,” the waitress told the men at the counter. “She’s waiting for him to answer from the grave.”

“Don’t be silly, her husband is overseas,” another man argued. “Those soldiers never have time to write. The mailman says she’s always smiling. It’s because no news is good news.”

“Someone at the gas station said she’s a floozy from Washington D.C. and hiding out from the press.”

Last week she had been a model, hoping for a reprieve from the paparazzi. With her looks, Victor didn’t doubt that possibility. But he kept his thoughts to himself.

The next day, the postmaster called after him as he headed out on his route. “Burnham, wait a minute. I’ve got something for you.” He waved a cream-colored vellum envelope in the air. “This should make your day. I hope it’s good news for her. ”

The letter, addressed to Ms. Eloisa Sinclair, was written in a bold, male hand with no return label. Hot damn! “Yessir.”

Victor couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. He barely noticed the rain coming down as he made his way up Ivy Lane. He paused for a moment when she was not at the gate. It’s raining, you idiot. Why would she stand out in the rain? But she had done just that on several occasions.

He made his way up the sidewalk, onto the porch and knocked on the door. No answer. He tried again. Still no answer. With a little guilt, he peeked in the picture window, and his mouth fell open in surprise.

 

Tune in tomorrow for the next episode of 19 Ivy Lane

~ * ~

Revised Header

You can read previously released stories and past episodes on the Sexy Scribblers FB page or Website

Sexy Scribblers on Facebook

Sexy Scribblers Website

The Sexy Scribblers publish two stories a month, each running for six consecutive days, an episode at a time.

The first story starts on the 1st Friday, and the second story starts on the 3rd Friday .

Watch for Part 2 of Scandalous , beginning on August 7th.