Authors: N. J. Walters
Tags: #small town, #trust, #sexual fantasies, #steamy romance, #florist, #younger man older woman
Lily's List
Cover
Ready to explore her fantasies . . .
When Lily Summers was left to raise her son
alone, she threw herself into her work as a florist and secretly
began writing erotic romance novels. Relying solely on fantasies
about the impossibly sexy Carson Granger for material, the single
mom has a long list of sexual scenarios she needs to research to
make her stories catch fire. When Carson discovers the list and
offers some hands-on help, Lily’s immediately aroused by his primal
power and the elemental attraction that ignites between them, but
she’s terrified of surrendering control to a man she’s wanted for
so long, especially one who’s younger than she is.
Desperate to show her so much more . . .
Carson always knew that Lily had shut herself
off from men after a bad marriage, but he also knew the quietly
sensuous florist had a secret side, and he wanted to be the man to
tap into that reserve of passion. When he discovers her hidden wish
list, he knows it’s his chance to initiate her into a world of
sexual abandon before revealing a secret of his own. As they
indulge in each new item on Lily’s list, she can’t deny the burning
desire and need beating inside her, and with tender patience and
sexual finesse, Carson is breaking down her barriers and drawing
one step closer to turning her short-term explorations into a
lifetime of devoted pleasure.
Title Page
Copyright
Lily’s List
N. J. Walters
Copyright © 2008, 2016 by N. J. Walters.
This is a fully revised
edition of a book originally published as
Lily Blossoms.
Cover design and illustration by Dar Albert,
Wicked Smart Designs.
Published by Beyond the Page at
Smashwords
Beyond the Page Books
are published by
Beyond the Page Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-940846-88-0
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Chapter One
His callused fingers brushed the side of her
breast, sending goose bumps racing down her arm. She sucked in a
breath as his hand cupped the soft mound. “I want you.” His voice,
low and deep, made her shiver.
“
Here? Now?” She couldn’t restrain her
shock. She’d never made love in a public place before, where anyone
could come upon them at any moment. Yes, it was secluded here in
the area they’d chosen to picnic, but they were still in full view
of any passersby.
“
Here.” He nuzzled her neck with his lips.
“Now,” he whispered as he circled the sensitive curve of her ear
with his tongue.
Angie wasn’t sure what to do. Part of her
was appalled by his suggestion. The other part of her
. . . Well, there was no doubt that she was aroused. Her
panties were damp and her breasts felt heavy. A low, throbbing ache
began between her thighs and her hips moved of their own accord,
seeking his hardness, his heat.
His large palm cupped her ass and he tilted
her hips, bringing her pelvis snug against his. “This is what I
want.” He pushed his erection against her mound and she parted her
legs, trying to bring him closer. Even through the layers of their
clothing, she felt the heavy pulse of his cock. She wanted him too.
Right here. Right now.
“
Yes.”
He froze, his eyes almost black in the dim
light of the oncoming evening as he stared down at her. “You’re
sure?”
“
I’ve never been so sure of anything in my
entire life.”
His wicked smile set her senses whirling.
She had no idea what would come of their relationship, but she was
more than willing to find out . . .
• • •
Lily Summers lifted her fingers from the
keyboard, sat back and reread what she’d just written. She liked
the premise of this book—young woman discovers her sensuality
through a series of experiences with an older man. Sighing, she
rubbed her forehead, trying to ignore the headache brewing there.
The trouble was she was running into a roadblock of sorts with this
project.
Although her fortieth birthday was knocking
at the door, she didn’t have much sexual experience. She’d married
young and had her one and only child, her son Ethan, at the tender
age of nineteen. By the time she was twenty-two, she was divorced
and had joined the ranks of single motherhood.
Not that she regretted it. Not for even a
single second. Her son was the biggest joy of her life. It had been
good riddance to her cheating ex-husband, but she hated the fact
he’d not only left her behind without a backward glance, but he’d
left his son as well.
But that was so many years ago, she rarely
thought of her ex-husband anymore. Ethan had grown into a fine
young man and was now attending college. She was proud of him and
proud of the job she’d done raising him.
Which brought her back to the problem at
hand.
No one in the town of Summersville knew she
wrote erotic romance under the pseudonym of Ms. Lillian. They all
knew her as the quiet and conservative woman who owned and ran the
local flower shop. Her store, Lily’s Blossoms, was as much her baby
as Ethan was. She’d built it from nothing, starting it on a wing
and a prayer more than fifteen years ago.
She’d made a good life for herself and her
son, but as he’d gotten older and the prospect of college had
loomed, she’d worried about the cost. Books had always been her
escape from the daily grind, and she’d read thousands of them. So
she’d decided to try her hand at writing one. It had been
awful—filled with bad prose, faulty grammar and a plodding
plotline—but she’d persevered, writing and rewriting until what had
finally emerged was something she was proud of.
It had taken her another six months to get up
enough nerve to send out a query to a prospective publisher. She’d
been shocked when she’d been asked to submit the entire manuscript
and totally overjoyed when they’d accepted it. All the money she’d
made from her writing had been channeled into a savings account for
her son’s education.
Her books were filled with many of her own
daydreams and desires—things she’d never had the nerve to speak
aloud to anyone. It had been almost cathartic to write them down
and watch her characters experience them.
The problem now was what to do with the next
book. She wanted to do something different but wasn’t sure quite
how to proceed. She glanced down at the glowing screen of her
laptop. The blinking cursor mocked her. She gave a sigh, picked up
her cup of tea and sipped. The tea was cold, but because it was
herbal peppermint, it was still drinkable.
Today was Wednesday—typically the slowest
retail day of the week for her shop—and she was off for the day.
Her assistant was running the store, her son was no longer living
at home—she ignored the pang of loneliness that accompanied that
thought—and she had all day to make a big dent in her next project.
She was hoping to get anywhere between ten and thirty good pages
done, but so far her progress had been slow.
Lily leaned back in her chair and glanced
around the kitchen in search of inspiration. She’d brought her
laptop out here to work today for two reasons. The first was that,
as a woman now living alone, she no longer had to worry about
anyone stumbling onto her work. Her son had no idea she had a
second career, and she wasn’t quite sure how to tell him that she
wrote erotic romance novels. Christmas, she promised herself. She’d
tell him when he came home for the holidays. Since it was only
mid-September, that gave her three months to figure out exactly
what to say to him. She ignored the fact that she’d told herself
the same thing last year.
The second reason she’d chosen to work in the
kitchen this morning was that this room was her favorite in the
entire house and got the morning light. She loved the rustic
hardwood floors, the cinnamon-colored walls and the white cabinets.
The large window overlooking the backyard was filled with pots of
herbs, their rich scents perfuming the air. Now that she no longer
had to write in her bedroom at night she much preferred to work
here.
She plucked a paperback book off the table
and traced her fingertip over the name embossed on the cover. Ms.
Lillian. It was still strange to see her name in print, and even
now it sent a thrill rushing through her. The package had been
delivered yesterday, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to
pack away her author copies of her third book. Not yet.
Setting the paperback down next to her
laptop, she brought herself back to the task at hand. She had poor
Angie and Simon poised on the edge of making love for the first
time. She could hardly leave them that way. She tucked away the
nagging doubts as she read the page yet again.
Her notes sat beside her, listing
possibilities for scenes—sex in a public place, phone sex, roses,
whipped cream, a striptease . . . they were all things to
consider. Right now it was sex in a public place. Problem was,
she’d never had sex in a public place before. But she could imagine
the fear coursing through Angie’s veins. There would be excitement
as well and the anticipation of what was to come.
