Sweet Secrets by Constance Munday

Sweet SecretsWhat will happen when dark secrets threaten a perfect recipe for happiness and newfound love?

Left on her own, Carrie Ann decides it is time to escape her past, empower herself and overcome her confidence issues by turning her secret hobby of erotic cake design into a business. Her world is then turned upside down when she bumps into dynamic and sexy Dominic. Unwittingly, Carrie Ann sows the seeds of disaster from day one, weaving a web of deceit, and before she knows it the lies are multiplying.

As news of her baking brilliance spreads, romance grows. Now, only one thing can ruin their happiness and that is Carrie Ann’s dark deceptions and the battle she is fighting within herself. Will she be strong enough to overcome a past that is set to destroy her dreams for the future and tell Dominic the truth, or will she lose him forever?

Available from:
Totally Bound
Amazon UK
Amazon US


The sun warmed Carrie Ann Jude’s face as she glanced through the large plate glass windows of the airport. Planes rose into the sky like silver birds, their metal bodies transporting people all over the world on adventures. She tightened her grip on the straps of her handbag. She had been one of those people embarking on an adventure only two weeks ago, except her journey had not started just with feelings of excitement, but trepidation. She pushed her sunglasses up over her head and took out her paperback to flip through. It was hard to concentrate with so many thoughts dancing in her head.

Carrie Ann was so deep in thought she hadn’t noticed the stunning youth about to sit down beside her. Wanting to be alone and not have anyone invading her space, she’d put her large bag on the chair next to her. Before she could say anything, he’d had his hand on it and, much to her consternation, had dropped it unceremoniously onto the floor. Then, not giving her time to move out of the way, he dumped a considerably weighty backpack on her foot.

“Ouch. Watch it!” she cried out, as he bumped against her, slopping his coffee over her hand. “That was hot.” She angrily snapped her book closed, noticing spots of coffee marking the pages.

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. Hi.” He had an American accent. “I ought to have asked if you minded if I sat here, but that’s me.”

She looked up to make a rude retort and found herself glaring into an impossibly green pair of eyes. She flushed. It was so embarrassing to be trapped by his compelling gaze.

“I’m so clumsy, everyone says it.” He held out his hand. “I’m truly sorry. My name’s Dominic, and you are…?”

How could she resist those eyes and his flirtatious expression? Carrie Ann took hold of his proffered hand and shook it unenthusiastically. “Carrie Ann.” What she could only describe as an electrical charge danced up her legs and ended with a pleasant fizz in the tips of her fingers and toes. He was very good-looking and his mop of shaggy blond hair that flopped into his face seemed to remind her of…

“Great.” He flashed her a grin. “I’m sorry. Let me get you another coffee.”

“No thanks, I don’t want one.” She was attempting to be more assertive, but it was harder than she’d thought. Actually, everything was so much harder out in the big wide world as she tried to cut ties to her past. Rommy, her father, so named because when he was younger he’d looked devilishy like a true Romany gypsy, had often criticised her for her submissive stance, which was ridiculous since that was what he’d wanted from her. The thought of him sent a creepy crawly shiver down her spine.

No one should feel like that about their father, but she did and she couldn’t help it. On occasion, she wondered if she would ever be able to get over him, shake loose all the hang-ups and phobias he had given her. It had not been abuse, but he had been good at keeping her under. She realised now she shouldn’t have put up with it for so long, she should have fought more for her independence when she’d had a chance to. But that was easier said than done.

The young guy hefted his bag and again knocked her. The nerve of it. She studied him angrily out of the corner of her eye. She had keen powers of observation—it was another one of the little skills she’d developed from being alone so long. Not having a lot to occupy her, she had become exceedingly observant. His arms were bare and muscular and covered in a frosting of tight blond hair. He also had strong, capable hands. Rommy would have said the man’s thighs were those of a rugby player. She had a thing about blond men, she reflected. Perhaps that was why she was instantly captivated by him. That came as a surprise and an interesting one, since anger and desire had a potent effect on her newly liberated self. It would be hard to be immune to his charms and it might be fun to test her boundaries yet again. She was woefully inexperienced with men. In a way, stepping out into the world was like learning to drive, and shy girls like her had to approach it slowly and cautiously and be prepared for any sudden unexpected turns in the road or emergency stops. She smiled to herself. She might have been confined to the house for years and had no experience of love first-hand, but she was living and breathing and had the same desires other women had.

For some reason she was shamefully hot and crossed her legs. It was utterly ridiculous being affected like this since Dominic was sexy and because of that was the kind of guy who wouldn’t flirt with her, well, not seriously. She tugged her skirt down over her knees. When she glanced up, he was watching her with a wry twist to his lips, as if he found her faintly amusing.

He gestured to the terminal board. “I guess you’re heading back to England.”

“Naturally,” she said. Carrie Ann wondered if she had a sticky label on her forehead, stamped ‘England’.

Nervousness made her feel hysterical. She would much prefer to be left alone with her thoughts, besides which it was distinctly embarrassing to have a man’s leg pressed against hers. He kept staring at her and she self-consciously stroked her lip. Why did he keep peering at her, like that? Besides the invisible label, there was nothing else that could make her seem even remotely interesting…was there?

At that moment a stunning girl strolled by and Dominic sized her up with interest, his gaze rippling up and down her from the tips of the high heels she was tottering in, to her layer-cut, multi-toned hair. Carrie Ann’s spirits sank further. She only had to dissect some of the women around her to realise she was at a distinct disadvantage where flirting was concerned. Let’s face it, she wasn’t even dressed for seduction. She was draped in her shabby comfortable skirt and she hadn’t even bothered with her appearance. As for what Rommy would have rather rudely termed ‘slap’—that was like attempting a recipe that was way out of her comfort zone. She’d only recently ventured down the makeup trail and she still didn’t like wearing it, although that might soon have to change, if her career plans took off. Makeup was weird stuff. It never looked right on her—the eyeshadow she’d tried made her dark brown eyes seem to retreat backwards so they seemed far too small, her freckles overwhelmed her complexion and her riotous mousy curls defied brushes, combs and tongs.

Any makeup she had used, she’d mistakenly plastered on to cover the freckles, and red lipstick—as Myra, the girl she had met at the ranch had pointed out—made her appear garish. Myra had given her a stick of lipstick termed nude and that did help, teamed with a tinted moisturiser. Myra was a brick, she thought grimly, pity she lived halfway across the world in Australia. She was also into baking, which had been a plus. It had been great to actually have a kindred spirit to talk with, to enthuse about her dreams to. Her heart soared and dipped. If anything was guaranteed to lift her spirits, it was the prospect of the new plans waiting for her when she got home.

“I don’t bite.” He touched her.

She jumped. He was smiling at her and trying to be funny by dipping his head and making puppy dog eyes at her.

She laughed, she couldn’t help it. “No, I guess not.”

He stretched out his long legs, settling back in his chair. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy what?”

“Your stay over here in the States. What were you doing? Was it business or pleasure?”

She was still guilty that she’d splurged a considerable amount of Rommy’s nestegg on the short holiday. It was the kind of thing her father, with his thrifty ways, would have termed profligate.

“All pleasure. Something trivial actually. I just had the Arlem experience.” She stared him in the eye, seeing if he got it or not. Most people knew about Arlem or they didn’t.

He broke into a grin. “Wow! You’re kidding. The Arlem experience, that’s way cool. I read about it in a Sunday supplement.” Brow creased, he seemed to be thinking.

“But that’s where the weird people go isn’t it? You a teacher? You don’t strike me as weird.”

She felt a short sharp violent stab of indignation. “The people at Arlem are lovely. They specialise in helping people. People with problems.”

“Yeah, but it’s mostly mental problems isn’t it?”

“Not always,” she snapped. Goodness, he had no tact whatsoever. “And no. I’m not a teacher, I was a visitor.”

He shrugged and looked away. It was as if he hadn’t noticed her sharp tone. “I’ve just been to visit my mother,” he explained. “She lives in California and he—my dad—still lives in England. After that ordeal, there were a few things I wanted to stop off and see here before I headed back. I don’t know why I come back to see her because it winds me up so much. Dad’s worse though, so it’s the lesser of two evils. In case you wondered. They’re divorced although it’s a sham since neither of them abide by the rules. They frequently visit one another to have passionate interludes.”

“Really.” Carrie Ann was intrigued, as in her estimation, romantic folk like that only seemed to exist between the pages of novels. “How modern of them. They must like it and be very much in love to be like that. To want the continual spice.”

He didn’t seem to have heard her. “It’s not like a divorce. It’s like playing at a divorce. In fact, I reckon you’re right. They rather like it. It seems to add something to their love life.”

“I think it’s romantic. Fancy still loving a person when you’re half a world apart.”

“Yes. Quaint. A grown-up kind of game. My father’s version of Viagra. I often wonder if that’s why I’m so messed up. It would be hard not to be, with two parents like that.”

Carrie Ann fell silent. Dominic didn’t look messed up. He seemed the most confident and together person she’d met. Besides being wickedly good-looking. Come on. You deserve a slap on the wrist. He’s so young for one thing. Let’s face it, there’s no way on earth a guy like him would ever want to date you.


About Constance Munday

Constance is nearly always to be found with a pencil in her hand making notes for a new story. She has led a varied life and done many jobs from cup washer, lecturer, to new age healer but has always written since she was a child.

A major health scare recently though, made her see life differently, and after years as a part-time writer, she turned full-time, because as she says – life is too short not to do what you love. She has literally climbed a mountain and made many sacrifices to pen her novels and now builds on a fund of wonderful encounters with intriguing people, plus her imagination, to write stories with strong characters and determined and adventurous women.

When asked what kind of genre is her favourite, romance is always the answer because to Constance, romance – whether hot and steamy or sweet and emotional is always at the heart of a good story. She hopes her stories reflect all of life’s facets from the struggling mother at home who finds a way out of poverty, the ardent and often disappointed dieter, to the girl who triumphs over sickness or has the courage to embrace her rather naughty side.

Constance loves listening to snatched conversations, which often gives her a seed to start a story, taking walks, revelling in the mysteries of life and baking and dancing, when she isn’t tapping away at her latest novel, of course.

She loves her fans and their comments, so invites you to please drop a line and if you have a second, pen a review.

Find Constance on: http://msnc62.wordpress.com/author/constancemundayromance/

Email: constancemundayromance@yahoo.co.uk

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Constance-Munday/1389544714601452?ref_type=bookmark


The Black Door by Charlotte Howard

The Black DoorBlurb:

Imogen Pearce is a single mum of four children and fast approaching 40, she works at Ryedale Incorporated where she has to battle a younger and smarter generation to get to where she wants to go. If that means taking on the account of Cherry and Sean Rubin’s adult shop, then she will. But what happens when Imogen discovers the private club that they run at the back? And what happens when she realizes she knows quite a few members?

Buy Links:

Tirgearr Publishing
Amazon UK
Amazon US


Men. All the bloody same.

My mind traced back to the day I had given up on one-sided monogamous relationships.

The children were at school or work, and the sun was beating down. It was a glorious day, and I had decided to go home for lunch, rather than spend it in a stuffy office.

I pulled up outside the house and a fleeting thought passed through my mind when I saw Connor’s car sitting in the driveway. My husband of eighteen years had had the same idea.

I crept into the house, hoping to surprise him. But, it turned out that his idea had involved a slutty bottle-blonde.

I wanted to blame the events that followed on a red mist descending over me. The truth is that in the time it took for my mind to register that some tart was riding my husband in what I later found out was known as reverse cowgirl, my mind had calculated the necessary response.

The skank lost a good handful of bleached hair, roots and all. I allowed her to gather her clothes and watched as she tugged her pants on whilst running out of the house. If nothing else, the neighbours got a good show.

Connor yelled at me. But his words were drowned out by the blood pumping in my ears. I marched back up the stairs and into his little study. Opening the window, I saw Miss Slut stood in the middle of the road, screeching obscenities at me. I looked at the Ferrari in our driveway and smiled.

I think his Xbox enjoyed its first and final flying lesson as it sailed out of the window. The fact that it landed in the bonnet of his prized mid-life crisis proved that Karma does exist.

Connor. Holly.

I made a mental note of the two names at the top of my imaginary hit list.

I blinked and I was back in the boardroom.

Author Bio & Links:

British author Charlotte Howard, was born in Oman and spent much of the first part of her life flitting between Oman, Scotland, and England. Now settled in Somerset, Charlotte lives with her husband, two children, and growing menagerie of pets.

Her career as a writer began at an early age, with a poem being featured in an anthology for the East Midlands. Since then Charlotte has written many short stories and poems, and finally wrote her first full-length piece of fiction in 2010.

During what little spare time she has, Charlotte enjoys reading and writing (of course), spending time with her family, and watching action movies whilst eating curry and drinking tea.

Charlotte is an active member of Yeovil Creative Writers.



Sunday Snog – City Nights: One Night in Paris

Sunday Snog

City Nights: One Night in ParisIt’s time for another Sunday Snog, yay! This time, I’m sharing a less traditional snog from my M/F erotic romance novella, City Nights: One Night in Paris. Let’s just say there are lips involved, but some are lower down than others… ;) This follows on directly from last week’s snog.

Jacob couldn’t have been happier as sweet pussy juices flowed onto his lips and chin, and the beautiful woman producing them swore, panted and wriggled beneath him. He had to push down harder on her thighs to hold her still, otherwise she would have bucked his mouth right off of her. He sensed she was growing close to coming, so that was absolutely not an option.

Annabelle’s clit grew and he continued to suck and flick it with his tongue, while moving his right hand from her thigh and slipping it between them. He quickly sought entrance to her soaking hole and pushed inside, the copious wetness easing his passage. Her walls clenched around him, and his neglected cock gave a lurch as his brain made the connection between what she felt like around his fingers and what she would feel like around his shaft. God, he couldn’t wait to get inside this amazing woman.

Curving his fingers, he sought her G-spot and found it without too much trouble—the spongy bump on the inner wall of her pussy was also enlarged. Shifting his hand a little, he figured out the best position to stimulate it, then went to town. Rubbing and pressing at her G-spot, he continued to torment her clit, bringing her ever closer to climax.

Jacob was soon glad he was in a high-class hotel with thick walls, because Annabelle, it seemed, was a screamer. First, her swearing and blasphemy grew louder and more frequent, then, as her body clenched and gushed at his ministrations, beyond the point of no return, she fell momentarily silent. She froze for a second or two. Jacob continued what he was doing, concentrating hard on the simultaneous stimulation of her two pleasure spots, determined to give her a damn good time. An instant later, it paid off.

You can get your hands on City Nights: One Night in Paris here.

Also, don’t forget to head back to Blissekiss and see what other luscious lip to lip action other authors have posted. Yum!


My Sexy Saturday #31 – My Sexy Howl #MySexySaturday

My Sexy Saturday

Welcome back to My Sexy Saturday. This is where writers post either 7 words, 7 sentences or 7 paragraphs from their published work or work in progress, sticking to the week’s theme. This week’s theme is my sexy howl – so shifters. I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to share a snippet from one of my older releases – F/F erotic romance, The Cottage in the Woods.

“No.” Heidi knew the next words on her lips should be, “But I do have a very comfortable sofa” but somehow she couldn’t force herself to say them.

“Oh. I guess I’ll just have to bunk in with you then. It’ll be like a girly sleepover! Not that I’ve ever been to one…” she tailed off, dropping her gaze to the floor.

“You haven’t?” Heidi asked, desperate to know what had made this beautiful girl look so sad. “Why not?”

“I could never risk falling asleep near humans. I often wake up in animal form, and that would be pretty difficult to explain. Not everyone’s as understanding as you.” Ava put her hand on the other woman’s arm and gave her a warm smile. Heidi’s heart leapt.

“Well,” Heidi replied, covering Ava’s hand with her own and giving it a squeeze, “whatever you wake up as is fine with me. Except maybe a spider. I won’t be held responsible for my own actions if I wake up with a spider in my bed.”

Both girls laughed. Then, hoping against hope she hadn’t misread the signs, Heidi linked her fingers with Ava’s and stood. “Come on,” she said. Her voice sounded husky. “Let’s get this sleepover show on the road.”

Ava followed without protest; eagerly in fact, and Heidi started to realize this was really going to happen. It was like something out of a fairy tale. She’d been all alone, then a hot girl who happened to be a shapeshifter turned up in her garden. All the signs pointed towards Ava liking her in that way, and now, she was happily going to bed with her. Heidi shook her head in disbelief, then sped up. After all, if it was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up before the good part.

You can buy The Cottage in the Woods here.

Please use the list below to head on over to the other blogs participating in My Sexy Saturday, and don’t forget to leave us all comments, we love ‘em!

Happy Reading,

Lucy x


A Heavenly Day Spent with Chocolate

Hi everyone,

A few weeks ago, I spent a day combining two of my very favourite things. No, not Tom Hiddleston and Benedict Cumberbatch (puts on bucket list). The Peak District in Derbyshire, England, and chocolate. I went to a place called Cocoadance, which is on a National Trust farm on the outskirts of the beautiful town of Castleton, which sits on the border of the White Peak and the Dark Peak. It’s a haven for outdoorsy folk, and, apparently, chocolate lovers.

Cocoadance has been going for almost twenty years, and as well as making chocolate for the likes of Harrods and Harvey Nichols, they also run workshops for the public to go and attend. You have to pay, naturally, but you get a thorough education, lots of tasting and a whole pile of chocolate to take home with you. What could be better?

lucyblindfoldIt was indeed a fantastic day. We started out by settling in, meeting the guy who runs the workshops, Dave, and generally chatting until everyone turned up. We were only allowed to drink water to start with, as we had to keep our palates clean ready for the tasting session. After donning aprons and name badges, it was time to start.

Dave talked us through the invention of chocolate, how it’s made, how it’s sourced, and so on. Then the reason for the blindfolds on the tables became clear. Having been reassured there was nothing untoward going on – there were children there, after all! – we reluctantly donned our masks as Dave pressed chocolates he’d made into our palms. We were then to eat them and try and guess things like how much cocoa powder was in them, how many cocoa solids, any other tastes, and so on. It was interesting to see what other people came up with – and I learned a whole new appreciation for milk chocolate after being given a couple of seriously bitter pieces of dark chocolate. It’s certainly an acquired taste!

Next, it was onto making our own. We donned very sexy hairnets. First of all we made chocolates in moulds – we could use white, milk or dark chocolate (or a combination), along with various other things like sprinkles, Smarties, marshmallows and more. Cue lots of giggling and mess, and a whole bunch of noise as we were encouraged to bang our moulds on the surfaces to remove any air bubbles.

creationsAfter that, we were given trays with greaseproof paper and told to go nuts. Basically, the faster we made things, the more we’d have to take home with us. At one point, my hands were entirely covered with chocolate due to a poorly made piping bag! But I did, in fact, fill my tray with a mad combination of swirls, buttons, flowers, a rubbish drawing of Scamp, a book, a pen, my name, dipped marshmallows, and lots more. I kept mine fairly simple, using sprinkles and a combination of white and milk chocolate – no dark chocolate for me.

The trays were then stacked on a rack to set, and we grabbed our moulds from the fridge to see how they’d turned out. Cue more banging on the table to get the little chocolates out. Some of mine turned out better than others – apparently I should have banged on the table more, but my poor sensitive ears couldn’t take it! However, it didn’t affect the taste one bit – they were delicious.

We then started boxing our creations up. Dave generously told us to help ourselves to any of the chocolates he’d pre-made before the session for us to taste, so I ended up with several pieces of chocolate looking much more professional than mine! Adding our tray-made chocolates into bags (the box was long since full!) and washing up, removing our hair nets and aprons, lots of very happy chocolate lovers headed back out into the Peak District and onward with their goodies, along with lots of sarcastic comments about the chocolates not managing to survive the journey home!

After a delicious meal in a nearby pub, we headed home, exhausted but happy. If you can get to the Peak District and this sounds like your kind of thing, I’d definitely recommend it. It was so much fun!

Lucy x


Click here to sign up for my newsletter! Receive all my latest news, information on my new releases and exclusive subscriber-only competitions and special offers! Don’t miss it!

Sponsored Advertisements:

link to lingerie

Sexy Santa Costumes with FREE Christmas Bikini worth £9.99


A “Those Boys” Backstage Pass by Alison Tyler (@alisontyler)

Those Boys“Those Boys” is the sequel to a “novelette” I wrote for Go Deeper Press called “Those Girls.” (Currently, I’m going a little Star Wars and writing the prequel, a full-length novel called “Those Days.”)

But right now, I thought I’d hand you a backstage pass and slip you behind the scenes on “Those Boys.” In the story, I mention a few specific items:


The dressing room door opened and a silver-haired man stepped out. I was leaning across the counter, talking shop with Elizabeth, when the man pranced by us, a pretty, pretty pony. He had that shimmering mane of shoulder-length hair, obviously a premature gray because his face was young and unlined. Before he spoke, I had him summed up neatly. He was one of those boys. Those “I like my hair” boys. Those “I need your approval of my outfit, and it will take me six hours to choose a shirt” boys.

Yes. I’d known boys like him before.


In my mind, the unique shirts that Rem is shopping for are by Rockmount. And they’re not just any Rockmounts, but the Vintage Western Shirts. You can check out the variety on my brand-new “Those Boys” Pinterest page.


“Safe word,” I said again, “one you’ll be able to remember.”

His eyelashes fluttered. He looked wildly around the room. What was he thinking? Window. Chair. Black. Rug. Girl. I came closer to the bed. I bent and whispered five-dollar words to him. “Narcissist. Peacock. Pretty boy. Preener.”

“Peacock,” he selected, and I couldn’t help myself. I looked over at Vanessa and grinned at her. She had her back pressed against the wall. That dangerously sheer dress of hers did nothing to hide her perfect form, did nothing to offer her protection. But I could tell that she felt invincible with the dress on, especially in comparison to the naked and captured boy on the bed.


The dress worn by Vanessa apparently doesn’t exist in real life—trust me, I’ve looked—but you’ll find one on my board from All Saints.


I’m going to say right now that the boy delighted me. All his sub attitude was gone when he was on the stage. Yes, he preened, as I had known he would. He tiptoed along the edge of the stage. He shimmied. He swiveled. He catwalked in those tight black jeans. The crowd adored him. I could imagine how easy he’d have it, snagging up girls to take home, tying them down however they wanted him to. He looked like he could make your wickedest, filthy dreams come true.

Vanessa danced in front of me, ever so gently rubbing her body against mine to the music. I let her, not caring that she had me hard, that she was doing her best to get a rise from me. I wanted to swallow the show. I wanted to devour Rem whole.

After the concert, we went to the dressing room. Rem was in his black jeans, no shirt, sweat still covering his torso. He didn’t look surprised to see us. He didn’t look frightened. He looked as if he needed me. I live for that look.


Rem’s band in my head was drawn from a mix of a few different musical groups, but influenced definitely by the performers at Rene and Arlene’s engagement party on True Blood mixed with a long defunct rock-a-billy band I was acquainted with back in the day. (And when I say “acquainted,” I mean, yes, I did make-out with the lead singer.)

And then, of course, there are the sex toys… Let’s never forget the sex toys.

• paddle

• crops

• purple anal beads

I’ll be posting more images as the “Those Boys” tour continues. Please stop by my blog for the line-up. And hey, shouldn’t dream-shopping guides always be this much kinky fun?

Those Boys Pinterest Board: http://www.pinterest.com/LaptopTrollop/those-boys/

Those Boys Tour Guide: http://alisontyler.blogspot.com/2014/06/those-fucking-gorgeous-boys.html

Alison Tyler is the author of more than 25 erotic novels, most recently Dark Secret Love and The Delicious Torment. Her work has been hailed as “kink that makes you think” by the Portland Book Review and she’s been called “a hell of a writer” by super-star Violet Blue. Visit her at alisontyler.blogspot.com and follow her at twitter.com/alisontyler.


Summer Reads #SummerReadsHop


Summer’s in full swing! Come in out of the heat and check out our favorite Summer Reads! Each blog will feature their favorites and a giveaway so visit them all! Plus there’s a Grand Prize giveaway happening too!


Hello and welcome to the Summer Reads Blog Hop! I’m definitely a summer person – I like the sunshine, the longer days, the warmth… so I’m sure I’d like California, which is where one of my latest releases, Sweet Spot is set. I’ve never been, but hopefully I’ll get there one day – just got to sell enough books :)

Here’s more info on Sweet Spot, which is F/F erotic sports romance. Even the cover screams summer, doesn’t it? :)

A Raw Talent book.

Virginia Miller is an up-and-coming tennis star. She’s gone from a ratty tennis court in a park in south London, England, to the world’s top training facility—Los Carlos Tennis Academy in California. In awe of the talent around her, Virginia is all the more determined to make the most of the opportunity and show that she’s worthy of her place there. Her mentor, Nadia Gorlando, has every faith in her.

But Virginia finds herself distracted—Nadia, as well as being a top-notch tennis player, is seriously sexy, and Virginia’s mind keeps wandering where it shouldn’t. Will her crush get in the way of her career, or can she find a way to push the other woman out of her mind before it’s too late?

Grab it here: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/sweet-spot/

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21521972-sweet-spot

Happy Reading!
Lucy x

Don’t forget to enter the giveaways, then scroll down to carry on hopping through the rest of the blogs on the hop!


a Rafflecopter giveaway


Carry on hopping!