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Lost and Found, an erotic M/F romance, coming soon from Ellora's Cave
On leave after eight years of deployments to the Middle East, Marc Rahn returns to his hometown, Birchwood Falls. At 18, right before graduating high school, his parents were killed in a car wreck. All he wanted to do was escape from his pain, so he joined the Marines. Suspicions about his parents' deaths have come to a head, and he's determined to find out how and why they died. He doesn't believe his dad was driving drunk and ran off the road.
Phoebe Barnes is a young, beautiful, jazz singer whose goal in life is to make it in the big time. She was abandoned as an infant, spent several years in foster homes, and was finally adopted by a loving couple. Those years in foster care kept her hungry for attention and fame that the singing and dancing lessons from her new parents couldn't completely cure.
Marc's on a mission to find out the truth about his folks' deaths before his leave is over. Phoebe has no intention of giving up her desire for fame in New York or Los Angeles. Will they be able to fight their attraction for each other?
A Peek at Six Paragraphs
"Well, I'll be damned."
"Did you say something, Mr. Rahn?"
His balls had instantly drawn up into the hot shelter of his groin, his cock swelling in interest. Swallowing heavily the last spit in his mouth, he stood transfixed. He would have to have perfect long distance eyesight. Reluctantly turning from the view of the picture window back to the mover, he said distractedly, "Um, no. Nothing important." Luckily, the guy hadn't noticed the show. Was this an example of the neighborhood's welcome wagon? Not a bad idea. It's better than a casserole.
But right now, his job was to move in. Being distracted was not in the plan, but his brain remembered very well the slender figure with long, dark hair on top and a nice dark bush at the juncture of her thighs. Being a man, his eyes had alternated between pubic hair and breasts. There might have been a pretty, delicate face, too. He thought so. What he was almost sure of was the sight of an intriguing bright flash on her chest.
He sighed. She'd disappeared from the window. Time to get back to work. Furniture didn't move itself. What belongings he had were minimal. It wasn't like he was used to sumptuous living after eight years in the Marines. He did desire comfort, though. Big, overstuffed, black leather man couch, laminate wood coffee table for putting beer cans and pizza boxes down on—no need for femmy things like coasters—a round maple kitchen table, four matching chairs, and a king size bed with a black wrought iron headboard. He was only home on a six week leave and had bought just what he'd need for now. The rest could wait until he was finally out of the service by the end of the year. The closet was plenty big enough for his few clothes and had built in drawers for the underwear.
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