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RELEASE DAY BLITZ ~ Bad Dad by Sloane Howell

 
 
 
 

 

 
 
 
 
  
 
My son is my life. Nothing on earth matters but him.
 
Soon, I’ll have to send him out into society. The cruel machine that gnashes innocence and spits out the hollowed remains of a child’s imagination. It’s a place I know all too well, considering my past. I’ve worked hard to separate myself from it, but it looms in the back of my mind—waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
 
My son, Logan, wants to have birthday parties, make friends, play at the park—all the normal things that seven-year olds want to do. All the things I want to do with him.
 
I’ve put up walls around our life to shield us from danger. Giant barriers to ward off possible threats.
 
Cora Chapman crashes through them like a wrecking ball. She’s intelligent and hilarious with soft curves and a spark that ignites a flame deep inside of me.
 
There’s only one problem—she’s Logan’s teacher.
 
When my past wraps its tentacles around my throat and threatens to strangle the breath from my lungs, I’m given an option—fight for my family’s freedom, or die as they’re stripped away from me.
 
I can’t lose. I won’t lose.
 
My name is Landon Lane and I am a warrior. 
 

 
The door at the entrance to the school, down at the end of the hallway, slammed shut like a shotgun had fired. I jolted and tried to catch my breath. Logan grinned a little wider, which still wasn’t much.
“This place is so loud.” I inhaled a deep breath and brushed off my own embarrassment. Anything was worth it to set him at ease a little.
Footsteps pounded in my ears as whoever came through the door approached in a hurry.
Logan’s head tilted up and he leaped from his seat. I barely leaned out of his way in time. He took off in a dead sprint. My head craned around to the man’s shoes first—ordinary Nike cross trainers. Nothing special.
But the way they traversed the ground—Montague soles pounded the Capulet tiles.
My gaze roamed to the jeans—Levi’s, boot-cut, regular denim, frayed at the seams—worked in and worn.
Damn.
My stare tilted up and drank the scenery. A charcoal-gray hood dipped down and cast a shadow over his eyes.
A breath cut too short and some sound I’d never made in my life escaped my lungs and dissolved into the tension saturating the room.
Logan’s father (I assumed) dropped to a knee, and Logan sprinted straight into his massive arms. His hoodie remained pulled up over his head. It’d probably been to shield him from the rain outside. I’d never seen Logan move so fast. He disappeared into the giant thunderhead biceps that engulfed him in a hug.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Logan sobbed into the man’s shoulder.
A giant hand wrapped around the back of his head and pulled him in tight. The hood dipped down and nuzzled up next to his cheek then turned and whispered in his ear.
I stood up about twenty feet away and noticed myself leaning toward them, trying to get a better view or hear what was said. I’d only met an older woman named Janet who usually brought Logan to and from school. She rarely spoke to anyone, but she was always polite.
“How long are they going to make us wait in here? Jesus Christ!” Charles Hastings’ voice roared once again from the office. Principal Williams was still nowhere to be found.
The hood-covered head popped up and turned in the direction of the words, but I still couldn’t make out his eyes.
God, what I would have given for a peek at his face.
The dark shadow under the hood turned to me. My heart threatened to explode out of my chest and my lungs stopped functioning. I still couldn’t see his eyes, couldn’t see his stare. Somehow, he managed to make my palms sweat. My palms never sweat.
Why’s he staring at me?
“Fucking ridiculous!”
My head whipped to the door.
Hastings.
I inhaled a deep breath and stomped toward the office. I’d learned long ago that if I didn’t set a certain tone with unruly parents they’d walk all over me.
Throwing the door open, I glared at the short balding man of maybe fifty. “It will be a few more minutes. Watch your language, please. This is a school. Not your living room.”
I slammed the door shut before he could get out another word.
Where the hell is Principal Williams?
I wasn’t one to shirk duties or get out of responsibility, but I really could use some back up. Parents had fought over pettier things than the words Hastings was slinging left and right, in front of his son no less. Maybe if I’d been at this school longer I’d have a better idea of how they handled these situations.
I froze in front of the door for a quick second and schooled my features. Could I go back out and face the enigma comforting his son in the hall? I had to. It was my job.
I walked back out to make sure Logan was okay, each step with a pair of concrete bricks attached to my feet.
“My son didn’t hit that little shit out there! We shouldn’t even be here!”
I paused and gritted my teeth. The moment now took a firm seat at the top of the podium as the number one awkward situation of my career, and I’d taught at a low-income New York City elementary school.
Jesus.
Other teachers had warned me about Hastings. The general consensus was that the guy was a raging jerk with little-man syndrome. I had no choice but to concur.
The man in the hood squeezed Logan once more into a bear hug, seemed to whisper something else, and then released him.
Hastings railed off even more expletives and threats from the office.
Logan’s father didn’t take off his hood, just advanced straight toward me. Logan stood in the hallway behind him.
He was not a small man by any means. The closer he came, the tighter my stomach twisted into a knot. The walls closed in on me and the thunder seemed to rumble with each of his footsteps. I gulped when he was about five feet away.
His shoes squeaked against the tile when he stopped and crossed his arms over his chest. It stretched the fabric across his shoulders and I realized just how large he was. It was one hundred percent muscle. I tried to keep my thighs from squeezing together and nearly failed.
Compose yourself.
My father named me Courage—even though I went by Cora—when I was born, but I was not living up to it at that moment.
I stretched out a hand toward him. “Hi, I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances. I’m Cora—”
I barely made out two eyes in the shadow of his hood. He sized me up and down, and gestured like he might actually reach out for my hand. Hastings belted out more empty threats from inside the office. The hood turned in that direction and left my hand abandoned mid-air.
I’d never had trouble speaking in front of a parent before, but something about Logan’s dad was just—I didn’t know what it was, to be honest—scary, exciting, mysterious.
I lowered my hand to my side. My mouth was drier than the Sahara. “I, umm, there was an incident, on the playground.”
I tried to keep my voice down. If Hastings knew Logan’s father had shown up there was no telling what might happen. Looking at the man in front of me, it wouldn’t be much of a fight, and I was definitely in no position to stop him if things escalated beyond a discussion.
My eyes strayed to the Levi’s again for a split-second before I caught myself. I had certainly missed Montana men and their jeans. Some might’ve called it a weakness of mine.
He turned back to me, slowly. I watched every move. He took in every piece of information the scene had to offer and actually listened before speaking. People didn’t do that anymore, and I silently appreciated it.
“What happened?” His baritone voice vibrated through me like the encroaching thunder outside.
I stood there, blood pounding through my veins, heart racing down a quarter mile track with no parachute or brakes. His voice demanded an answer, but it didn’t seem coercive. There was a hint of concern laced in it.
“Logan didn’t do anything wrong. Like I said before, there was an incident. We just called both—”
The sound of a chair shuffling and footsteps from the office cut me off. I froze. Hastings must’ve heard me talking.
A tingling sensation radiated through my limbs and goosebumps pebbled down my arms. I had to force a slight smile from my face and mashed my lips into a thin line.
Logan’s father took a few commanding steps toward the door and made sure he’d be the first thing Hastings would see. He put himself right between us and his shoulders were so broad I couldn’t see around him. My thighs tried to squeeze together again. I cursed them silently and stepped out to the side so I could at least see Hastings’ face.
“I’m not waiting for this bullshit any—” The door to Williams’ office burst open. Hastings froze right along with his sentence when he saw Logan’s dad.
His voice went down an octave, barely noticeable. His chest deflated a little too and he tried to recover. “You the dad of the little shit making up stories about my kid?” His words were shaky, and he nodded up the hall toward Logan.
Uh oh.
The hood turned to Logan and looked right through me. “Wait in the car.”
I glanced back. Logan didn’t dare question him. Hell, I don’t think anyone would’ve. I nearly took a step toward the parking lot and caught myself. Logan turned on a dime and took off.
I wasn’t about to stand by and let a dick measuring contest happen on my watch. Both of my hands found my hips and I side-stepped farther so that Hastings could see more than just my face. “Mr. Hastings, get back in the office. Now!”
He ignored me, as expected. I wasn’t a threat to him. The ballsy bastard took a couple of steps toward Logan’s dad until he was a few feet away from him.
Where is Williams? Probably peeking around a corner somewhere, watching.
“Mister Hastings, that is enough.” I started toward him.
Hastings sneered at Logan as he walked toward the door, then he turned to me and his chest puffed out a little more. “You fucking people have—”
Where the hell are you, Williams? Help!
A single finger.
I stopped in my tracks.
He held it up. The man in the hood.
One powerful index finger in the air.
It was just a finger.
That index finger stole the words from Hastings’ mouth and the breath from my lungs.
One gorgeous, forceful finger commanded everything in the room and even the storm outside seemed to shut the hell up.
His left hand balled into a fist at his side.
And we’ve now reached the ‘Oh shit’ portion of the night’s show.
Complete silence fell on the school.
I swear I couldn’t have made it up if I tried. The door closed behind Logan and he walked to the car. Lightning cracked overhead, and the immediate thunder seemed to pick up the building and shake it at the same time the man in the hood dropped his finger.
I shuddered. Freaking thunderstorms.
Logan’s father closed the small gap between him and Hastings. Hastings’ eyes widened like saucers, then his brows narrowed into a V.
Then he did possibly the dumbest thing I’d ever seen a man do. He poked Goliath in the chest. “Listen here—”
The hood tilted down to the finger, and then back up to Hastings’ face. Hastings tried to look tough, but his face was pale as a ghost, and sweat beads formed along his hairline.
The hood glared lasers at Hastings. “Don’t touch me.”
Hastings’ hand dropped like it might fall through the floor.
“D-dad?” Cory Hastings eased open the office door.
The hood shot to Cory for a quick second. He glanced at Hastings and then back to me and then back to Cory. His voice softened a hint while he looked at the boy. “Sorry.”
He turned and headed toward the exit, but stopped at my side. He looked straight ahead. Straight where his son sat in the car, waiting. “Logan won’t be back.” He paced down the hallway.
I turned and watched him leave. I stood there, mouth wide open, catatonic, brain short circuiting all over the place. Logan’s father disappeared through the double doors, and I blew out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
Oh my God.
Maybe Desire, Montana wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“Okay, we ready?” Principal Williams strolled up from the other end of the hallway.
You’ve got to be shitting me.
 
 


 
 
 
 


   
 
 
Enter HERE
 
 

  
Sloane Howell lives in the Midwest United States and writes dirty stories. When not reading or writing he enjoys hanging out with his family, watching sports, playing with the dogs, traveling, and engaging his readers on social media. You can almost always catch him on Twitter posting something goofy.
 
Visit his web page www.sloanehowell.com to sign up for his mailing list to get updates on new releases, promos, and giveaways. Thanks for reading.

 


 

BLOG TOUR ~ Bossed by Sloane Howell

 

 

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He’s the boss. But she’s ready to take charge.


In this provocative and sexy* office romance, a cheeky new hire tempts a
hotshot sports agent to mix business with pleasure.


Jenny: Job interviews are a bitch under the best of circumstances, but when your potential boss is the world’s biggest prick, that’s when you should simply walk away. It’s just that I need this job so badly—and I’m mesmerized by Ethan Mason’s piercing gaze. Men like him aren’t supposed to exist in real life. But under the tailored suits and GQ looks, Ethan simmers with barely restrained ambition. And no matter how hard I work to fight the attraction, I’m going to get burned.

Ethan: You don’t become a top agent without learning how to close deal. I always get what—or who—I want, by staying cool and in command. Then Jenny Jackson walks into my office with her lush curves and “screw you” attitude and blows away my intentions of keeping things professional. All I can think about is exploring the perfect body hidden beneath those conservative clothes or shutting her saucy mouth with one hot kiss. Jenny’s worth breaking the rules over—if I can convince her to break the rules for me.


*By sexy, we mean sexy. Like, 18+ sexy.


 

When I turned back to the cart, a suit and tie slammed into me, knocking my bag to the ground. I stumbled around in a momentary daze, trying to process what had just occurred.
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. Please excuse me.” I crouched down and quickly gathered all the papers that had spilled out of my bag and shoved them back in. Finally, I turned my head to meet a perfectly creased pair of black slacks, then lifted my gaze up to his face. The guy had to be mid-to-late twenties. He glared down at me with a pair of warm brown eyes, holding his phone to his ear. His hair was dark and combed back like the models who graced the covers of GQ or Style. His lips curled into a devilish smile as my face flushed with heat at the sight of such a handsome man. It was like seeing a lion on the Discovery Channel, only live and in the flesh. Predatory men like him weren’t supposed to actually exist in day-to-day life.
His brows pinched together and he scoffed, “You’re excused.”
I was at fault. I knew this. Standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk and staring out into the park was just asking for trouble. But something about his cocky attitude and the way he spoke to me crept under my skin in the worst possible way. Pulling myself to my feet, I propped my hands on my hips, and glared at the back of his jacket as he started to walk away. “Excuse me?”
He froze in his tracks as I eyed him from head to toe. His suit hugged him perfectly, as if it were specifically tailored to every dimension of what I imagined was the body of a Greek god. But being attractive wasn’t an excuse for being a dick, no matter how fast my heart sped up when he turned around, and his gorgeous eyes found mine again.
“Hang on a moment,” he said to whoever was on the other end of the phone.
He took a few steps that seemed to last an eternity as he neared me. “Sorry. I thought I’d said you were excused already.” He paused for a quick moment, then his eyes widened. “Oh my. You’re deaf.”
He held out his hands and flawlessly signed, You’re excused. I knew because I’d minored in ASL in college.
Before thinking, I signed back, You’re a fucking prick, coupled with a smile that matched my sentiment.
He stared at me like I was an alien for another brief moment, before raking his gaze up and down my body. I clenched my fists at the shiver it sent crawling up my spine, and the heat it sent between my thighs.
“Well, aren’t you a clever one? Never would’ve guessed you had an attitude, judging by that outfit.” He smirked.
I folded my arms across my chest and stared lasers into his eyes. The same eyes that sent nerves skittering through my body. “Well, aren’t you—”
His hand shot out and his index finger was against my lips. “Shh.” He slid his finger down my mouth slowly before pulling it away and pointing to his phone. “Important phone call.”
He stared out at the park as my chest rose and fell in huge waves. My face heated to an alarming degree.
“Yeah, well don’t let them fuck up my sandwich this time. I want the condiments on the side. They get the bread all soggy.” He cupped his hand over the phone and whispered, “So sorry. This will only be a second. Then we can get back to”—he waggled his index finger back and forth between the two of us—“this little thing we have going on here.”
I should bite his damn finger off. Or lick it. What the hell, Jenny?
“Yeah, see that it’s right before you bring it back to the office. Bye.” He tapped the screen on his phone and shoved it into his jacket pocket, then grinned at me. “Are we finished here?”
“I bet you hear that a lot from the ladies.” I tapped my foot on the ground. He picked the wrong woman to be an asshole to. I didn’t care how expensive his Armani whatever suit cost, being a jerk wasn’t acceptable. Who did he think he was?
“It’s usually more like, ‘I want you to finish here.’ ” He pointed at my chest and smiled a toothy grin.
I remained unmoved by his misogynistic sarcasm. His smile widened.
“No?” He drew out the syllable. “Here?” He canted his head sideways and pointed at my mouth, then chuckled. “What’s wrong? You can dish it out but can’t take it?”
I sighed and gave him an obviously fake laugh. “Oh, I can take it. I just prefer an entree. Not an appetizer.” I shot a glance to his crotch.
He leaned down next to me, his breath warm in my ear. “I can assure you, there’s plenty to eat down there.” He rose back up and examined me once more, as people made their way around us. “And it looks like you’ve been starving yourself for a while. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have important things to do.”





That’s right. I’m a guy.”


Thank you for having me on your blog and letting me tell your readers a little about myself. My name is Sloane Howell. Wait, that’s not true. I have a normal guy’s name but that’s irrelevant. Fact is, I’m a normal married guy with a kid and two dogs and an asshole cat.
People ask me all the time how I started writing romance. I think people are curious about an average every day guy writing the genre. Obviously, it was so I could get thousands of followers on social media and make millions of dollars. Why else would a dude write romance? It certainly wasn’t to get in touch with my feelings or some other pussy reason like that. It wasn’t to make my writing well-rounded. Only a good writer would have a goal like that. Money and fame is the way to go, always. Facebook likes is how you should always measure your success.
Hah! Sorry, I joke a lot. I’ll punish myself accordingly.
There were a lot of reasons and I never expected it to be half as successful as I’ve been. I figured I could bring something different to the table writing from a man’s POV. When I wrote the first story of my Panty Whisperer series I didn’t know if my wife would divorce me when she read it or drag me to the bedroom. I’m still married so you can do the math. Apparently, it worked for readers too because I’m still around and my fans seem to enjoy my writing style.
It’s funny, because when I started researching the genre in the beginning, well, I won’t lie, I kind of expected stories that were written directly for women with these ridiculous expectations of how a man would act from a female’s point of view. A big feels fest with some unrealistic cheesiness.
I was pleasantly surprised, because the stories I dove into were anything but that. They were dirty, raunchy, hilarious, and I was hooked. I had to write something and there’s something about the disconnect when you’re just sitting in front of a keyboard that just lets you not hold back.
The naughtier the story, the more people liked it. Hair pulling (which I maintain is the answer to world peace), ass slapping, you name it, the more the merrier. Make the hero throw the heroine over his shoulder like a caveman and I’d get twenty messages immediately asking for more. There’s nothing an author loves more than having people chasing you down for more stories.
So, like any sane person, I kept writing them and kept trying to get better. The fact is that erotic romance can affect a reader the way other genres just can’t. It’s like my buddy from my sci fi days E.J. Robinson said (I’m paraphrasing), ‘You can read a murder mystery and you won’t go out and try to solve crimes. But when you read an erotic romance you can damn sure grab your significant other annnd go get busy in the sheets.’
Love and hate are the two strongest emotions in the world, so I try to slam a reader with both whenever I get the chance. Because I wouldn’t be doing my job if I wasn’t trying to push those buttons. I hope you’ll check out BOSSED (3/28/17) and SCORED (8/22/17) – and let me know if I achieved my goal.
Check out my blog and join my newsletter at: http://www.sloanehowell.com
Follow me on: Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram

Thanks so much for having me! 😊




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Sloane Howell lives in the Midwest United States and writes dirty stories. When not reading or writing he enjoys hanging out with his family, watching sports, playing with the dogs, traveling, and engaging his readers on social media. You can almost always catch him on Twitter posting something goofy.

 

Visit his web page to sign up for his mailing list to get updates on new releases, promos, and giveaways. Thanks for reading.

 

Author Links
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RELEASE BLITZ ~ Bossed by Sloane Howell

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He’s the boss. But she’s ready to take charge.


In this provocative and sexy* office romance, a cheeky new hire tempts a hotshot sports agent to mix business with pleasure.

Jenny: Job interviews are a bitch under the best of circumstances, but when your potential boss is the world’s biggest prick, that’s when you should simply walk away. It’s just that I need this job so badly—and I’m mesmerized by Ethan Mason’s piercing gaze. Men like him aren’t supposed to exist in real life. But under the tailored suits and GQ looks, Ethan simmers with barely restrained ambition. And no matter how hard I work to fight the attraction, I’m going to get burned.

Ethan: You don’t become a top agent without learning how to close deal. I always get what—or who—I want, by staying cool and in command. Then Jenny Jackson walks into my office with her lush curves and “screw you” attitude and blows away my intentions of keeping things professional. All I can think about is exploring the perfect body hidden beneath those conservative clothes or shutting her saucy mouth with one hot kiss. Jenny’s worth breaking the rules over—if I can convince her to break the rules for me.


*By sexy, we mean sexy. Like, 18+ sexy.



AP new -about the author.jpg
Sloane Howell lives in the Midwest United States and writes dirty stories. When not reading or writing he enjoys hanging out with his family, watching sports, playing with the dogs, traveling, and engaging his readers on social media. You can almost always catch him on Twitter posting something goofy.
Visit his web page to sign up for his mailing list to get updates on new releases, promos, and giveaways. Thanks for reading.

 

Author Links
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Book Spotlight – The Matriarch by Sloane Howell

 

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Amazon US  Amazon UK  Amazon CA  

 

 

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Betrayal is easy, sex is a weapon, and information is power. Maggie Madison sits in the lofty towers of her city during the day, but at night she lurks the seedy underbelly, looking to snare the man who stole her innocence. Her simple quest becomes complicated when she meets a man who is as light as she is dark, as straightforward as she is deceptive. When a villain rises and sets her world alight, she must weigh her need for revenge against the good of the city she vowed to protect

 


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I turned the key again. Same result. Men yelled and raised their guns in my direction. I heard the crackling of handheld radios and orders being barked.
“There! There!”
The men howled and ran toward me. I beat on the gas tank of the motorcycle.
“Start you fucking piece of shit.”
To my surprise, I flipped the key and it came to life, purring between my legs. With a twist of the wrist, I hammered the throttle. The back wheel slid sideways, trying to gain traction.
The men opened fire. Bullets peppered the trees and bushes around me as I tore up the grass, before finding pavement. The bike howled as I shifted the gears, my body wrapped tightly around it. I looked back as the men and their guns grew smaller, the sound of gunfire fading. I stared straight ahead at two black cars blocking the street. Men in uniform pointed weapons at me.
They opened fire. Bullets ricocheted off the plexiglass shield that curved in front of my face.
Thank god Grandpa installed this shit.
I looked around for any means of escape. Hammering the brakes and flipping the handle bars, I spun to my right as the back end of the motorcycle slid and my foot planted on the ground. My forearm flexed, hammering the throttle as I rocketed toward a side street. A steep, man-made irrigation ditch appeared between me and the road.
I leaned into the bike and cocked my wrist on the throttle, pegging it to red. I ramped a small hill in front of the creek, soaring through the air. Bullets sliced past me. I floated over the creek bed and braced myself as the tires slammed into the asphalt.
The bike corrected and I sped down the road with a smile on my face, thinking about Kiril’s bandaged face and his reaction when he learned of my escape. I laughed to myself.



 

 

 

 


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Sloane Howell lives in the Midwest United States and writes dirty stories. When not reading or writing he enjoys hanging out with his family, watching sports, playing with the dogs, traveling, and engaging his readers on social media. You can almost always catch him on Twitter posting something goofy.

Visit his web page to sign up for his mailing list to get updates on new releases, promos, and giveaways. Thanks for reading.

 

Author Links

 

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon page  Instagram

 


 

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BLOG TOUR – Cleat Catcher (The Cleat Chaser Duet #2) by Celia Aaron & Sloane Howell

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What happens when an unrepentant Cleat Chaser meets the player of her dreams?

Nikki Graves has a history of going through the baseball roster with an eye for talent–the kind of talent that keeps things spicy between the sheets. But, once she meets Braden Bradford, catcher for the Ravens, her talent scout days are done. He’s the one.

Braden has never met a woman like Nikki, and he can’t get enough of her smart mouth and big heart. But life isn’t always as direct and certain as the connection between Braden and Nikki. When family objections and career trajectories begin to crowd the plate, will Braden be able to keep his catch of a lifetime?

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“This is so not my color.” I spun in the dressing room mirrors, all three reflecting the pink confection of a dress my mother had picked.

Over the years, the Graves had suffered plenty of hardships—when the good caviar was out of season, when that one maid failed to do proper hospital corners when she made the beds, or even that time when Kerfuffles, Mom’s prized Dandie Dinmont Terrier, destroyed my father’s autographed baseball from the ’56 World Series where Don Larsen threw a perfect game. Each time there was a setback, the Graves rallied in the only way we knew how. We shopped.

I wasn’t into it like Mom, but if buying me new clothes got her off my back about Braden—and finally gave me some breathing room—I was all for it. I couldn’t go back to the apartment, not until I knew what my course of action would be. So, a day of shopping didn’t sound so bad while I mulled things over.

“I think you look lovely in it.” My mother walked around, her critical eye examining it from every angle.

“What will I wear it to? My quinceañera?”

“I’m sure you have plenty of weddings to attend next spring. In this, you’ll outshine the bride.” She smiled.

“Yes, Mom, because my goal is always to ruin the bride’s special day by flouncing around in a sherbet-colored dress and flashing my panties at all the boys, including the groom.” I stepped down from the modeling podium and walked into my separate changing area. I didn’t mention that I had, on plenty of occasions, bagged a groomsman or two at my friends’ weddings, often using similar tactics to what I just described.

Mom gave an over-dramatic sigh. “Stop being difficult, and try on the next dress.”

“This one is the newest from the Valentino line.” The snooty shopping assistant reassured my mother that she was, for certain, buying the most expensive shit in all of Saks. “I wish I could have been at the runway show. It was faboosh, beyond transcendentine, positively luxotic.”

“Those aren’t words,” I muttered and fought the zipper on my mother’s next selection. This one wasn’t so bad. It was a sky blue sheath that fell mid-thigh and had an interesting peasant-top ruffle at the bust line.

I walked out and stood on the podium as the assistant—a man wearing more makeup than I owned—flittered about and crowed about the fit.

Mom took a swig of the complimentary champagne. “Cyrano, she looks like a barmaid.”

I smiled at myself in the mirror. “It’s my favorite one so far. Tit-tastic.” If a dress made it look like I had actual breasts that were bigger than a teacup, then I was sold.

“An excellent choice. The bodice is ahead of its time. I have a feeling peasant will be in three years from now.” Cyrano—if that was actually his name—twirled one side of his too-thick mustache and affected a lisp that screamed “flamer.” But he wasn’t fooling me. I’d seen him checking out my tits and ass while I modeled my dresses. He was straight, but likely knew that pretending to like the dick was the surest way to get commissions in a Saks dressing room.

Let’s test this theory. I smirked and headed back into the changing area. After yanking my zipper halfway down, I called, “My zipper is stuck. Cyrano, a little help?”

He pushed through the white curtain and let it fall behind him. His eyes took in my bare back and bra strap.

“I can’t quite get it.” I smiled at him in the mirror.

“Allow me, mademoiselle.” He gripped the zipper and pulled it down easily. “There we are.”

I let the dress fall to the floor and turned to face him. His gaze froze on my tits, then lowered to the lace over my pussy.

I plucked at the edge of my panties, pulling them away from my hip. Then I looked at him through my lashes. “Do you think I’d have to go without panties in that dress. Did you see a line?”

He licked his lips. “I-I think—” His voice had lowered two octaves in the space of ten seconds.

When I saw his boner at war with the front of his skinny pants, I laughed. “So busted. Quit ogling my pussy, and go entertain my mom.”

“What?” He cleared his throat and raised his voice into a nasal pitch again. “Oh, vaginas are so icky. I would never—”

“Tell it to your boner.” I crossed my arms over my chest and gave his crotch a pointed stare.

He dropped the act. “Look, I make good money this way, okay? When I played it straight, women never took my style advice. Style is my life, and this is the only way I can be around it and make money at it. Please don’t say anything.”

Guilt filtered through me, and I dropped my arms. “I’m not judging. Well, I’m not now, anyway. I was just messing with you.”

He smiled a little. “What gave me away?”

“Your roving eye.”

“I’ve been trying to work on that, but when I see a beautiful woman.” He gestured at me. “I can’t help it sometimes.”

An idea struck me like a wild pitch. “You get the inside scoop on designer clothes and what the customers come in here looking for all the time, right?”

He ran his thumbs up and down his bright pink suspenders. “Yeah. It’s kind of my job.”

“I’ll tell you what—wait, what’s your name?”

“Cyrano.”

I rolled my eyes. “No, your real name.”

His shoulders drooped. “Cyrus.”

“Okay, Cyrus. You agree to let me interview you for my magazine, and I won’t tell everyone what a true pussy-fiend you are. Sound like a deal?”

“Magazine?” He twirled his mustache.

“I work for Style and Substance.”

His eyes lit up, and he grabbed my upper arms. “Are you shitting me?”

I shook my head. “Not even a little shitting. Not so much as a shart.”

“Yes!” He nearly shouted. Then he ran his hands down my arms. “Sorry about that. It’s just, that’s my favorite fashion mag. It’s so down-to-earth but also classy beyond belief.”

His enthusiasm had my mind whirling in all different directions, but first things first.

“Good.” I plucked one of his business cards from the front pocket of his plaid shirt. “I’ll be in touch, Cyrano.”



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AP new -about the author.jpg

Celia Aaron

Celia Aaron is the self-publishing pseudonym of a published romance and erotica author. She loves to write stories with hot heroes and heroines that are twisty and often dark.
Thanks for reading.

 

Author Links

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon page   Instagram

Sloane Howell

Sloane Howell lives in the Midwest United States and writes dirty stories. When not reading or writing he enjoys hanging out with his family, watching sports, playing with the dogs, traveling, and engaging his readers on social media.
You can almost always catch him on Twitter posting something goofy.

 

Visit his web page to sign up for his mailing list to get updates on new releases, promos, and giveaways.
Thanks for reading.

 

Author Links

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon page  Instagram


 

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RELEASE BLITZ ~ Cleat Catcher (The Cleat Chaser Duet #2) by Celia Aaron & Sloane Howell

Cleat Catcher Release Day.jpg   

 

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Amazon US  Amazon UK  Amazon CA

 

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What happens when an unrepentant Cleat Chaser meets the player of her dreams?

 

Nikki Graves has a history of going through the baseball roster with an eye for talent — the kind of talent that keeps things spicy between the sheets. But, once she meets Braden Bradford, catcher for the Ravens, her talent scout days are done. He’s the one.

 

Braden has never met a woman like Nikki, and he can’t get enough of her smart mouth and big heart. But life isn’t always as direct and certain as the connection between Braden and Nikki. When family objections and career trajectories begin to crowd the plate, will Braden be able to keep his catch of a lifetime?

 


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I shot back against the cushion, doing my best to act normal. Nik pushed the door open. “Hey, babe. I was waiting for my dessert course.” I made a show of scrubbing my hand across my mouth and face like I was clearing her a space.

“I’m good.” Her tone was flat, and she didn’t even look at me.

What the hell?

Her usual spark was gone. She sauntered over to the side table, and dropped her keys and bag on it.

I glanced down at the laptop screen full of porn. Fuck! I’d been researching some new shit to try out with her, but there was no way she’d believe me. My gaze drifted to the mouse way up under the table. There was no chance I could get to it without giving away my knee situation.

Using my good leg, I tried to gently kick the computer screen closed, and, of course, it only opened wider.

“Have you moved from the couch all night? Did you even shower?” She sighed, still facing the wall like she had no interest in looking at me.

“What’s wrong, babe? What happened?” My mind raced. A lot could have occurred at Estate de CuntMuffin that would set her off. I’d been worried the whole time she was gone.

“I’m fine.” She turned around, and I watched her eyes dart straight to the computer screen. Her brows pinched together and her hands went to her hips.

Fuck me. This won’t be good.

“Nice, Braden. Real fucking nice.”

“It’s not what you think. I don’t look at porn.” I stared in the other direction and mumbled. “Often.”

“Your fingers slip and accidentally type in ‘fuckmedaddy.com?’” She scowled and began to pace back and forth.

I’d expected her to be upset about the porn, but not this much. I was halfway hoping she’d want to look at it with me. “No. I was trying to find new stuff to try out on you. If you must know.”

Her lips curled like she might smile, and then they mashed back into a thin line.

So close.

“Have they said if you’re going to be traded or not?” She took another step toward me, ignoring all of the pussy acrobatics flashing on the laptop.

“No.” I tilted my head to my lap and ground my teeth while I tried to compose myself. I’d been trying to forget about that shit all day, but the pain in my knee kept it front and center in my mind.

She made a pfft sound and threw her arms in the air.

“Babe, I’m sorry. I know I’m supposed to have a clue what you’re upset about. I just don’t.”

A million things rocketed through my mind at once and brought my entire thought process to a crashing halt. My brain buffered slower than the inverted cowgirl pussy nomming scene I’d attempted to watch earlier.

Nik scowled, and then folded her arms across her chest. She stared me down like a closer in the ninth inning. “Think really really hard about the problem we have.”

My eyes rolled up toward the ceiling. “Uhh, your parents?” I glanced back and tried to judge her reaction.

She made a loud sound like a buzzer that startled me.

“Fucking hell. I mean, umm, me being traded?” I held my hands up and shrugged.

“Warmer.” She took another step toward me.

I hated this fucking guessing game. Why couldn’t she just say it? Heat rushed into my face, and my body tensed.

“Can you just tell me? Please. Stop fucking around with me.” I smacked my hand against the back of the sofa, and Nik jumped.

“Maybe my parents were right. Maybe you do have anger issues.” She stomped off a few steps and whipped back around. “Easton!

“Take that shit back. You know I don’t. Maybe your goddamn family just brings it out of everyone. Maybe you’re more like your mo—” I froze stiff on the couch, and my eyes bugged out. I held up my hands. “I stopped myself. You heard me. I did not say it.”

It was too late. I thought my head was going to explode the way Nik glowered in my direction. Her hands were squeezed into fists at her sides, and I could see all the whites of her knuckles. She started toward me like a possessed demon. “Did you say what I think you said?”

Do not answer, Braden. That shit is rhetorical. Adapt and survive.

I shook my head quickly and braced myself in case she resorted to physical violence.

 


AP new -about the author.jpg

Celia Aaron


Celia Aaron is the self-publishing pseudonym of a published romance and erotica author. She loves to write stories with hot heroes and heroines that are twisty and often dark. Thanks for reading.

 

Author Links

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon page   Instagram

 

 

Sloane Howell


Sloane Howell lives in the Midwest United States and writes dirty stories. When not reading or writing he enjoys hanging out with his family, watching sports, playing with the dogs, traveling, and engaging his readers on social media. You can almost always catch him on Twitter posting something goofy.


Visit his web page to sign up for his mailing list to get updates on new releases, promos, and giveaways. Thanks for reading.

 

Author Links

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon page  Instagram


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EXCERPT REVEAL ~ Cleat Catcher by Celia Aaron and Sloane Howell

Cleat Catcher Excerpt Reveal.jpg  

 

 

Coming June 30th

 

Add to your Goodreads shelf now.

 

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Catcher.png

 

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What happens when an unrepentant Cleat Chaser meets the player of her dreams?

 

Nikki Graves has a history of going through the baseball roster with an eye for talent–the kind of talent that keeps things spicy between the sheets. But, once she meets Braden Bradford, catcher for the Ravens, her talent scout days are done. He’s the one.

 

Braden has never met a woman like Nikki, and he can’t get enough of her smart mouth and big heart. But life isn’t always as direct and certain as the connection between Braden and Nikki. When family objections and career trajectories begin to crowd the plate, will Braden be able to keep his catch of a lifetime?

 


AP new - excerpt.jpg

Kasey frowned, but then her expression lightened. “Say, Nik, you never gave me all the details from the lez experience you had in college. This game is boring as fuck. Entertain me with it.”

“It wasn’t really an experience. I just kissed a girl a little bit when I was drunk.” I shrugged as the first Ravens batter, Ramirez, strode to the plate.

“Not bad.” Kasey crossed her long, tan legs at the knee.

The guy sitting next to her gave her an appreciative up and down look, but her head was turned towards me so she didn’t see it.

“How much tongue are we talking?”

I closed my eyes and tried to remember the fall of my sophomore year, but it was hazy at best. I had way too much fun in school. “I think there was tongue, and she definitely felt me up over my shirt. I can’t remember if she ever went under, but I doubt it.”

“Nice.” Kasey set her beer down. “I think I need a reenactment. You know, to test you. Make sure you’re not running a game on Braden, pretending to be straight.”

I rolled my eyes as Ramirez swung and missed, strike one. “Not a chance. Besides, everyone knows I’m a Penis Flytrap.”

“Come on, just a little kiss.” She leaned closer as Kyrie snickered on my other side.

“No way.” I shook my head. “Braden would kill me.”

“I think Braden would be all about it. Just a couple of girls. One, his girlfriend, the other, like a sister to him. No harm in the two of us being friendly. Right, Kyrie?”

“Don’t drag me into this. I’m an innocent bystander.” She grabbed some more popcorn as Kasey’s confident grin surfaced.

I tried to ignore the hot blond trying to get into my panties. The next pitch was high and outside. Ball.

“Just a little experiment. That’s all.” Kasey’s tone turned wheedling. “It won’t count.”

“How many girls have you tricked into opening their legs for you like this?” I stared at her, not even close to falling under her spell.

She frowned. “Tons. What gives with you?”

“I love Braden.”

“Me too.” She moved closer, her big, pretty eyes open wide like the wolf’s in Red Riding Hood. “So how about you give me a little tit action as a sign of our love for him.”

Kyrie snorted.

“A little help here?” I turned to her.

“Nope.” She shook her head, a giggle falling from her lips. “I don’t get between Kasey and her prey.”

“Come on.” Kasey wrapped a lock of my hair around her finger.

I tried to keep the amused smile off my lips. “I’m trying to watch the game.”

Ramirez finally made contact, hitting a line drive and trucking it to first base.

Kasey didn’t even look. She kept her gaze on me.

I sighed. “Oh my God. If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

She squealed. “Yes, I promise.”

“Fine, you can have a tit grope.” I’d taken many a tit grope from Kyrie, so this was nothing special.

She reached for the hem of my tank top.

“Hey!” I smacked her hand away. “Over my shirt and for no more than five seconds.”

“That’s it?” she pouted.

I tossed my hair behind my shoulder. “It’s that or nothing, you goddamn sexual predator.”

She smiled and licked her lips before focusing on my chest. “Fine.”

“Get to it.” I leaned back and dropped my elbows to the armrest, giving her maximum chest exposure.

She rubbed her hands together like she was Mr. Miyagi readying to fix Daniel-San’s leg. The guy sitting on her other side couldn’t take his eyes off us. I wondered if he was going to cream in his jeans.

“Here we go.” She hovered her hands over my chest as Kyrie shook with laughter next to me. “Luscious Nikki tits in three, two, one.”

“Hey!” Braden’s voice cut through the air.

I looked up and Kasey and I were on the kiss cam for the entire stadium to see.

“Kase!” I leaned forward, but that only pressed her palms to my tits.

The crowd went silent, and Kasey took the opportunity to give me a good squeeze. I smacked her hands away as the crowd went from silent to roaring with approval. I hid my scarlet face in my hands.

“Goddammit Kasey!” Braden was at the net yelling. “I’m going to kick your ass!”

I peeked through my fingers as a grinning Easton strode up behind him. “Come on, man. They’re just dicking around.”

“Kasey is a woman-stealer. She’s the devil!” He pointed a finger through the netting at Kasey, who was doubled over with laughter.

“I’m sorry.” I shook my head, my hands still covering my face.

“It’s not your fault. It’s the blond Satan sitting next to you!” The corner of his mouth twitched. He was holding back a smile.    

 


 

AP new -about the author.jpg

Celia Aaron

 

Celia Aaron is the self-publishing pseudonym of a published romance and erotica author. She loves to write stories with hot heroes and heroines that are twisty and often dark. Thanks for reading.

 

Author Links

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon page   Instagram

 

 

Sloane Howell

 

Sloane Howell lives in the Midwest United States and writes dirty stories. When not reading or writing he enjoys hanging out with his family, watching sports, playing with the dogs, traveling, and engaging his readers on social media. You can almost always catch him on Twitter posting something goofy.

 

Visit his web page http://www.sloanehowell.com to sign up for his mailing list to get updates on new releases, promos, and giveaways. Thanks for reading.

 

Author Links

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon page  Instagram

 


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COVER REVEAL ~ Cleat Catcher (The Cleat Chaser Duet #2) by Celia Aaron & Sloane Howell

cover reveal.JPG

 

 

Coming June 30th

Add to your Goodreads shelf now.

 

goodreads-badge.png

AP new - synopsis.jpg

 

What happens when an unrepentant Cleat Chaser meets the player of her dreams?

 

Nikki Graves has a history of going through the baseball roster with an eye for talent–the kind of talent that keeps things spicy between the sheets. But, once she meets Braden Bradford, catcher for the Ravens, her talent scout days are done. He’s the one.

 

Braden has never met a woman like Nikki, and he can’t get enough of her smart mouth and big heart. But life isn’t always as direct and certain as the connection between Braden and Nikki. When family objections and career trajectories begin to crowd the plate, will Braden be able to keep his catch of a lifetime?

 



Catcher.png

 

 

Teaser 1 for Cleat Catcher.jpg

 


AP new -about the author.jpg

 

Celia Aaron

Celia Aaron is the self-publishing pseudonym of a published romance and erotica author. She loves to write stories with hot heroes and heroines that are twisty and often dark. Thanks for reading.

 

Author Links

 

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon page   Instagram

 

 

Sloane Howell

 

Sloane Howell lives in the Midwest United States and writes dirty stories. When not reading or writing he enjoys hanging out with his family, watching sports, playing with the dogs, traveling, and engaging his readers on social media. You can almost always catch him on Twitter posting something goofy.

 

Visit his web page http://www.sloanehowell.com to sign up for his mailing list to get updates on new releases, promos, and giveaways. Thanks for reading.

 

Author Links

 

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon page  Instagram


 

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Save

BLOG TOUR ~ Panty Whisperer by Sloane Howell

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Amazon US  Amazon UK  Amazon CA  

 

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I love women. I’m not ashamed to admit that making a beautiful woman come is my main goal in life—one that I accomplish night after night. Women are as drawn to me as I am to them. I don’t get turned down. It’s not a brag, just a fact. At least it was a fact. Until I met Quinn—the one woman who didn’t fall for my easy charm. Now, I have to have her. She may not want to get close, may not want to admit that I turn her on and can give her a night that she’ll never forget, but she was mine the first moment I saw her. Eventually, I’ll have her beneath me, my hands in her hair, and my name on her lips. It’s what I do. I’m the Panty Whisperer.

 


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TOMMY IS SHAKING his head too much for comfort as I walk up to him at the bar top.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing, man. Didn’t say a damn thing, bro.”

“Megan tell Quinn?”

He stares at me like I’m an idiot. “Herbert, I just wanna shake the ever-loving shit out of you sometimes. Quinn knew the second she walked by you and you poked your little head, yes I mean both of them, up like a turtle coming out of his shell. Megan tell Quinn? Fucking Michelangelo over here. You didn’t learn shit from Splinter, did you? Fucking honorary Foot Clan member.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

His eyes are about to pop out of his head. “Just save it, bitch. You’re making my life oh so complicated. You’re lucky you’re a hot piece of man meat.”

“But—”

“Don’t!” He bugs his eyes at me again.

“I—”

“I said don’t.” He talks so damn fast I can’t get out a word and his puffed out cheeks are trying not to laugh. His eyes open wider.

“Look—”

“You are terrible at this game, Sir. I said don’t!” He’s on the verge of an aneurysm.

“Fine. You are such a persistent prick. You know that? What the fuck is new?”

He looks away. So smart to have such an obvious tell. He’s withholding information.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” He won’t look at me, and now I have to know.

His voice gets all high pitched. He’s nervous. “You see the new Force Awakens trailer? If Abrams doesn’t bury that goddamned Binks clown I will murder him, Herbert. I will fuck his Facebook page with the fury of 1,000 angry porn dicks, by god!”

“Tell me what you’re going to tell me.” I inch closer to him.

He shakes his head. “Didn’t work. Did it? Changing the subject. You can’t be persuaded to the dark side?”

“Tell me. I know you want to. Join me, Thomas.”

He looks away.

“Thomas, look at me.” I’m the one bugging my eyes now.

He turns back to me and cackles. “Your Jedi mind tricks won’t work on me, Sir. I am enslaved by the pussy of one Megan, much like Leia tied to the likes of a forty-ton gila monster. I am a Jedi, like my father before me.”

I crouch down in his face. “So be it, Jedi. And now young Skywalker, you will die.”

“Fine, man goddamn!”

I grin huge.

He glares back at me. “Quinn’s leaving town. She’s going to speak at some bullshit conference for their company. And it could be permanent if she does well.” He gasps like he’s been holding his breath for hours.

My heart drops into my stomach. Pain rips through my bones at his words, but I compose myself. “Good for her. I’m sure it’ll be good for her career.” I look around and want to rip the walls off this building and burn it to the ground.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“For what?”

He looks up at the bartender and orders two scotches, then tosses me a look like I’m clueless and want to copy his calculus homework. “I’m sorry.”

I give in and stare down at the ground. “It’s okay, buddy. It’s not like it’s a hundred percent sure thing she’s leaving forever, right?”

“Yeah, well. I don’t know. I wish you two would stop being idiots. Everyone can see it but the two of you.” He stares out the window.

I want to change the subject, but my thoughts are flying back and forth like a Blue Angels air show. “It’s too late, man. Yeah, I love her. But I fucked it up. Can we all please move on?”

His face tightens and his jaw clenches, grinding his teeth together.

Guilt pummels my abs with a right cross.

“You didn’t fuck it up, man. You could still have her. You’re just too much of a pussy to do anything about it.” He slams his fist on the counter, rattling all the glasses down the bar, then turns and walks toward the door.

“Dude, what the fuck? What do you care anyway? Sorry I’m not making things convenient for you and Megan.” I squeeze my glass of scotch so hard I’m worried it might break.

He pauses for a second, then turns back around and walks over to me. His hands are clenched into fists. I don’t know that either one of us has ever been in a fight, so I don’t know what the fuck to do.

 


 

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Sloane Howell lives in the Midwest United States and writes dirty stories. When not reading or writing he enjoys hanging out with his family, watching sports, playing with the dogs, traveling, and engaging his readers on social media. You can almost always catch him on Twitter posting something goofy.

 

Visit his web page http://www.sloanehowell.com to sign up for his mailing list to get updates on new releases, promos, and giveaways. Thanks for reading.

 

Author Links

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon page  Instagram


 

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CHAPTER REVEAL – Panty Whisperer The Complete series by Sloane Howell

Panty Chapter Reveal.jpg

Releasing May 19th

 

Add to your Goodreads shelf now

 

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Panty Whisperer cms2.jpg

 

AP new - synopsis.jpg

 

I love women. I’m not ashamed to admit that making a beautiful woman come is my main goal in life—one that I accomplish night after night. Women are as drawn to me as I am to them. I don’t get turned down. It’s not a brag, just a fact. At least it was a fact. Until I met Quinn—the one woman who didn’t fall for my easy charm. Now, I have to have her. She may not want to get close, may not want to admit that I turn her on and can give her a night that she’ll never forget, but she was mine the first moment I saw her. Eventually, I’ll have her beneath me, my hands in her hair, and my name on her lips. It’s what I do. I’m the Panty Whisperer.

 


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Intro

 

THE MAJORITY OF men want sex just to get off. They blow their load, roll over, and fall asleep. That’s not my style. I want you to remember my face. I want you to remember every inch of me. And you will. I want to watch your eyes roll up in your head, your toes cramp up while curling under your feet, your thighs trembling around my face, begging for my stiff cock inside your hot, wet pussy. Every time you tease your clit, longing for your hair to be pulled, while squeezing those quivering pussy walls around your slippery fingers, you’ll be wishing it was me inside of you, drilling balls deep into that aching cunt while you dig your nails into the sheets. I want to own your mind for the rest of your life. The thought of me will be a thirst you can’t quench, a drug you can’t have, an itch that can’t be scratched, no matter how hard you try. Nobody will send a shock of neural ecstasy from your pulsating little cunt to the tips of your toes the way I will. Care to bet me?

 

Jessica Moore

 

MOST PEOPLE HAVE something they’re good at: math, sports, music, art. I wasn’t born with some common talent. I’m a master of making women come. I don’t know why, or how it happened, it’s just built into my DNA. I’ve always been able to talk to women and get them to do whatever I want. Ever since I was a teenager, if there was a girl nobody could bed, I got there first.

My name is Joel Hannover. Well, actually, that’s a bit of a lie. Joel is my middle name. My first name is Herbert. I hate that name. It’s like my parents were trying to cock block me from conception.

I work as an accounting software consultant. It sounds fancy like I should be good with math or computers. Nothing could be further from the truth. I’m a salesman. My job, however, is perfect for my hobby. Most accounting departments are comprised of women. Women that most people think are boring or uneventful.

I meet these women every day. Insecure, dressed conservatively, hiding their beautiful bodies behind layers of clothing, afraid a few pounds of baby weight might still show. They’re ladies who work crossword puzzles, and process numbers and transactions. It’s all a façade though. These women are just like any others. Sexual creatures who want to have all of their desires met and all of their needs fulfilled.

They’re practically begging for someone to explore them, to bring them out of their shell, and release the sexual tension that has saturated their entire being, afraid to break free. They get their rocks off reading erotica, watching porn, or using the shower head in a manner it was not intended for. I can’t allow this. They need someone to open their mind, and release their fantasies into the wild. Someone to spread their thighs and take them to places they never knew possible, where all of their darkest fantasies reside. This is the environment where I thrive.

 

Meet Jessica Moore: mid-thirties, married with two kids, unhappy.

Fucking hot.

She’s a senior fixed asset analyst at a company that’s implementing my firm’s new software. She is amazingly sexy and wasting away in a bad marriage that is held together solely for the kids. We’ve been working together on this project for about two weeks now and have grown somewhat close.

She cracks a smile as I walk through the door to her office. “Good morning.”

“Jessica—” I pause for a moment and eye her curvy hips and round breasts. “—you look nice.” She looks hot as fuck, if I’m being honest.

Jessica bites her lip and smiles. I want to put my cock in that beautiful mouth so badly. I have to have her. I’ve been observing her for the last two weeks, processing every bit of information she provides. She loves Starbucks, romantic comedies, and has an adventurous side to her that she’s afraid to act on. Well, she didn’t exactly say that, but like I said before, I can sense these things. It’s an innate ability. “Did you have a good weekend?”

“Completely boring, didn’t do much of anything. Philip went hunting and left me with the kids. So we had a movie night on Saturday. You?”

I can’t really tell her I filmed myself banging two twenty-year-old co-eds, and then watched it while going a second round with them. “Oh, I had a movie night myself. New indie film, you wouldn’t have heard of it.”

Hey, you didn’t lie to her.

I can’t stop staring at her black, mid-length skirt hugging tight around her hips. I get the slightest peek at her tanned cleavage protruding through her low-cut red top as she reaches into the bottom of a file cabinet. She’s dressed up today, and it’s for me; we both know it. The first day I was here she wore mom jeans and a sweater.

Her wavy brunette hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and her bright-blue eyes send my stomach churning in knots every time I catch a glimpse of them. It’s obvious that she works out and watches her figure, but she’s got these curves that send blood straight to my dick. I have to fuck this woman. No, I want to make this woman come harder than she ever has in her life, if she ever has at all. She deserves it. She works hard and is a good mother.

I’m going to plow her so hard she wants to scream but the words won’t come out. I can tell she wants it, constantly eyeing my six-foot-two frame, wondering what I’m packing in my slacks. It’s not ten inches, but it gets the job done. A massive cock is overrated anyway. I’m not trying to scar her for life.

I pull a caramel macchiato with no whipped cream out from behind my back and set it down on the desk in front of her. It’s all about paying attention to details.

“Oh my god. You’re my hero. Seriously.” She takes a sip. “I’m a slave to caffeine.”

“I know how it goes.”

Only my drug of choice is that yearning pussy that’s heating up for me in your panties while you eye fuck the shit out of me.

Soon.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” She walks back behind her desk.

“Just a follow up consult, half a day. Make sure all the modules are functioning the way you like, and then I’m out of your hair.”

Her head drops a little and she stares down at the desk for a moment before looking back up at me. “Well, I’m taking you to lunch before you leave. On the company, if that’s okay?”

“I can’t say no to a free meal.” I laugh, knowing what I’ll be dining on. It’s under that skirt of hers. Today is a day she’ll remember for the rest of her life. She just doesn’t know it yet.

 

Most of the morning is uneventful, working out kinks in the software. Lunch can’t get here fast enough.

“Hey, can you take a look at this? I’m not sure this menu is exactly how we’d like it.” She turns back to me, then back to her screen.

I lean over her shoulder, perching up near her ear. God, she smells amazing. I try to look at the screen, but all I can focus on is a black lace bra corralling a pair of 38D breasts. She knows exactly what she’s doing, breaking out the sexy underwear for my last day here, longing for them to end up on the floor. “I think we should switch options three and four on this window.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.” I don’t even look at the fucking screen. My eyes are busy, working down those creamy thighs with her knees pressed together, calves running down to a pair of black heels, legs crossed at the ankles.

I look up at the screen and try to buy myself some extra time. “Well, wait, what if we moved option two, and had a separate pop-up option for four?” I don’t even know if my words made sense or not, and I can tell she doesn’t care. She starts to speak and I exhale lightly across her neck.

“Hmm, I—” Her voice cracks a little as her eyes close, the tiny hairs on her neck standing at attention from my warm breath.

I interrupt her. “No, never mind. I think I like your idea better.” I breathe into her ear as I raise my head up.

I spy her brushing her hands across her legs and onto her knees as I walk away. She doesn’t think I notice, but I do. I can’t stop thinking about how wet her cunt is right now, her lips begging for my cock to drive into them. It’s going to be a long lunch.

 

I ride with her to the restaurant, but don’t make any moves. I want to tease her as long as possible. It’s a long-term investment for the eruption that will take place between her legs later, when I press the buttons in every erogenous zone in her brain. The clacking of her heels on the tile floor of the restaurant and her ass swaying back and forth in that skirt have my cock rock hard against the zipper of my pants. She knows she’s driving me crazy too. Jessica thinks she might know what’s coming, but there’s enough uncertainty to keep her wondering if she’ll merely be dreaming about fucking me when she rubs one out later.

I pull her chair out for her, to her surprise. “Sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. My mom drilled the behavior into me since I was a boy.”

“Aww. A mama’s boy? I think it’s sweet that she taught you to be a gentleman.” She blushes.

“Yeah, she’s old school. Guys sometimes look at me funny, but it always seems to work in my favor with the ladies.” I flash her a devilish grin as I sit down.

The sexual tension is building, and for some reason seeing her wedding ring makes me want her more, as if it makes the game more of a challenge. I mean, I don’t go out seeking married women, but I don’t turn them down either. I didn’t make any promises to anyone to remain faithful, that’s their issue.

She’s staring at me with those seductive blue eyes again. Goddamn they drive me crazy. I’m a sucker for beautiful eyes. Her hair pulled back makes them pop even more. I want that red lipstick smeared all over my cock while I stare into them.

“So, what are you having?” she asks.

Definitely not the salad you will order. I can tell she’ll order one before the words leave her mouth. It’s a funny thing. Honestly, if she ordered a cheeseburger or steak it’d probably turn me on even more. I’ll order something decent, but not something that will make her feel bad for ordering salad. Grilled chicken or salmon is usually the go to.

“Oh, I think I’ll have the lemon pepper chicken.” I look over to see a guy tearing into a cheeseburger. Fucker. But it’s a price I’m willing to pay to get inside Jessica.

We laugh for a while, trading war stories about work, bad relationships, all the while flirting. Instinctively, I reach for the check when it comes.

“I told you it’s on the company.” She shoves my hand away, but not before holding on to it an extra split second.

“Sorry, it’s a force of habit.” Yeah right. I know exactly what I’m doing. She’s sharp, so I’m sure she’s caught on to some of the bullshit. It’s still worth it, as long as I don’t overdo it.

 

The drive back is the longest of my life. I can see her subtly squirming in her seat, anticipating what will come next, afraid that it’s going to end, and she’s going to be left with nothing but her hand and a cold shower. A memory of what might have been. I smile at the thought and glance over at her.

Don’t worry, Jessica. You’re going to get everything you want and then some. Just wait. Tension is building in my balls already as we pull into the parking garage. I’m on the verge of exploding in my pants. This is what I live for, the moments right before. All the anticipation, the sweaty palms, the stomach butterflies, my prick growing hard in my slacks, the animalistic instincts of wanting to drill the woman sitting two feet away, separated only by a console and some cup holders.

Finally, we pull into the parking space, staring at each other momentarily before opening our doors. I pretend to be a little upset that she opened the door for herself. “I’m so sorry. I’m not used to the royal treatment. My husband would have been inside the building by now.”

“Well, why don’t you make up for it and walk me to my car?”

That gets a giggle out of her. It’s cheesy as fuck, but she eats it up. Jessica holds out her arm to escort me, and I take it. I feel my forearm rub against her tight hard nipple and soft breast. It sends a warm sensation straight to my cock. The sound of her heels clacking on the concrete as we near my car has my pulse racing. I can see her biting her lip, knowing this is the moment for her. I can practically see everything she is thinking.

Is he really going to fuck me in his car, or in the dark corner of this busy parking garage? Why did he park all the way back here anyway? Did he plan this out?

You’re goddamn right I did, Jessica.

We approach my ’67 Fastback in the corner and she gasps. I’ve had it since I was 17 and restored it myself. Classic muscle cars are an aphrodisiac if there ever was one. She releases my arm to walk in front of me. Her ass is driving me wild in that skirt, I want to bite it and hear her squeal.

“Is that a ’67?”

Jesus Christ, she knows her cars. I’m now rock hard.

“Sure is.”

She’s walking faster, and I match her pace as she turns to the driver’s side door.

“I have to check this out.” She runs her hand down the sleek metal in the sexiest way possible.

It’s time.

I walk up behind her and press my palm to the small of her back before smoothing it down to her ass. Her eyes close as she presses her tits up against the window, hands resting at the top of the car. I lean in close, next to her ear. “I have to check you out.” My voice is a whisper as I watch people get in and out of their cars, nothing between us and them but my Mustang. “I know you want this.” I whisper in her ear as I dig my fingers into her ass.

“But, I’m married.” Her words are a muttered gasp. She moans lightly as I run my hand up her skirt. She’s trying to tease me. She’ll find out who’s in control momentarily. “You sure? Last chance?” I exhale in her ear, and walk my fingers up her inner-thigh.

She won’t resist anymore. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

I rub my fingers back and forth on her hot, wet panties, circling around her clit. A shudder rips through her shoulders. I whisper in her ear again while breathing down her neck. “This is what you’ve wanted all week, isn’t it? Me, behind you, my hand up your skirt, playing with this pussy? Look at all these people. They have no idea I’m about to shove my fingers inside you.”

I lean forward and watch as she opens her eyes to see all the people in front of us who have no idea what we’re doing. I can see the spark in her eyes as the heat rushes through her veins like a strong narcotic. “You’ve been dreaming about my fingers inside this tight little cunt, knowing you could lose your job if you get caught. But you don’t care, do you? You want it too bad. You need me finger fucking this needy pussy, don’t you?”

I slip my thumb inside of her, two fingers swirling on her clit.

“Oh my fucking god, yes.” She coos, and spreads her thighs, giving me more access.

I roll one of her tight nipples between my fingers before running my hand over her breast. I can feel Jessica’s heartbeat on my thumb inside of her, panties cocked to the side. I focus on her clit, still running my fingers over it in small circles.

“Keep an eye out.” I drop to my knees slowly.

“What?” She glances back and down to me as I raise her skirt up, releasing her beautiful peach-shaped ass with black lace panties covering the upper half. She looks back up immediately before closing her eyes, finally giving in to the possibility of being discovered.

I massage her ass cheeks over her panties—I know she wore them specifically for this moment—before pulling them down around her knees, revealing her swollen, pink entrance, already wet and glistening between her thighs. I take my time, working up the back of her tan legs, teasing her slit with the tip of my tongue, before burying my nose in her ass, and darting my tongue into her.

Jessica lets out a slight squeal, and then covers her mouth, looking around to see if anyone noticed. A family of four is walking through the parking lot, oblivious to me tasting her sweet pussy a few cars down. I pick up the pace, flicking my tongue on her clit and probing her while she squirms against the car door, wanting to shout but knowing she can’t.

I grip her ass, and turn her around to face me, staring eye-level at her pink, freshly shaved cunt. I can see the lust in her eyes, and it fills me with a sense of power and satisfaction, knowing that she is going to finally open her mind and release all of the tension that’s been building for years in every bone in her body. I yank her pussy to my mouth, which sends her bending over me in surprise.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” Her words are jumbled under her breath.

I start working my fingers up her inner thigh while teasing her bump with my tongue, licking her wetness that flows down onto my face. The closer my fingers get, the tighter she squeezes her legs together. I lean back and look up to her eyes. “Relax. You’re about to experience something you’ve never felt before.”

She loosens, and her legs slowly spread as I work my fingers in, still teasing my tongue on her clit and watching her paw at her breasts. Neither of us give a fuck about getting caught at this point. The attraction is too strong. Her eyes roll back as I take my two fingers to the hilt, curling them up to the ridge I find deep inside. Her walls squeeze tight around my fingers, and I imagine what they’ll feel like around my cock later.

Wow, this pussy is tight. She definitely hasn’t had it in a while.

The suctioning noise of my fingers pumping in and out of her echoes off the concrete walls surrounding us. My fingers are drenched as she grips the back of my scalp, the insides of her arms pressing those beautiful tits together. I snake my tongue over her and work it in circles as my fingers hammer away deep inside of her.

“Goddamn it, Joel, fuck!” Her words are a little too loud for comfort, but it doesn’t slow me down. She’s on the edge and doesn’t realize what’s on the other side. She’s always been too afraid to let go and take the plunge. I’m about to take her there.

I lift up my pinky finger. My entire hand and her thighs are shimmering, and covered in Jessica’s wetness. I slide my pinky finger between the crack of her ass with each thrust of my fingers, before teasing her tight little puckered asshole with it.

“Holy. Fuck.” She’s panting, barely able to breathe. Her hips fly back and try to push her ass through the car door, barely able to handle the intense nerve firings ripping to her core. I keep my head buried into her, my mouth latched onto her pussy, increasing the tempo of my tongue and fingers. I remove my head from between her legs for a brief second.

“Just let it happen,” I whisper, before diving back in, lashing my tongue across her pussy.

“Okay, okay. Oh my fucking god!” She covers her mouth, trying not to scream as my pinky slides slightly inside of her asshole, and I start rubbing over her g-spot in small circles, my fingers fully plunged into the depths of her.

She’s now bucking her hips into my face, fully engrossed in her fantasy. A shudder starts in her legs and shoots through her. Her entire body tenses as her thighs squeeze around my face, her nails digging into my scalp. Her pussy clamps around my fingers like a vise and she convulses against my face, before letting go and coming all over my lips, unable to make a sound. I savor every drop as time freezes for her, all of her sexual energy channeled into her pulsating clit, then shooting to her extremities. She finally relaxes a little, her beautiful breasts rising and falling with each deep breath.

I stand up slowly to meet her with a smile, running my fingers across her tight nipples just to see a shiver jolt through her torso. “You are a genius.” A huge smile spreads across her face. “Holy fuck!”

I’ve unleashed the beast. It’s inside of every woman, she just doesn’t know it.

She throws me up against the car, and my cock immediately rises to attention as she rubs her palm over it. Her eyes widen as she feels my length in her hand, growing more and more the tighter she squeezes. “I have a few things I want to do to you.”

“Do it then.”

I grin. She drops to her knees and unbuckles my belt, then pulls it apart with her teeth, one of my weaknesses that I find ridiculously hot. Her bright, blue eyes staring up at me have my balls roiling with tension, and I haven’t even been inside her yet.

She unzips my pants and pulls my briefs down with them in one quick motion, releasing my cock like a spring-loaded weapon. “Oh my.” She strokes the length of my prick slowly with one hand, the other rubbing on her beautiful tits over her shirt.

She teases my tip with her tongue. A tingling sensation shoots through my legs as soon as her warm tongue curls around the head of my cock. “You’ve wanted to suck that dick, haven’t you?” I stare down at her skirt that’s hiked up over her beautiful ass.

She nods, taking me a little farther into her mouth, those blue eyes locked on mine, logging away every reaction in her memory. The inside of her cheeks closing around the head of my cock sends my head flying backward. She’s surprisingly better than I thought she’d be. Accountants, they have a wild side to them.

She’s now hit her groove, stroking and sucking in one smooth, rhythmic motion. It feels amazing. I can’t stop staring at those ruby-red lips spread tight around my stiff prick, smearing her lipstick on the length of it. Suddenly, she lifts my cock and presses it to my stomach, before diving onto my balls and sucking on one and then the other, all the while stroking my cock with her palm.

“You like that, don’t you?” She pauses for a moment. I’m not going to lie; it feels fucking amazing. Apparently, I don’t answer her fast enough as she spits all over my balls, and takes one in her mouth, sucking forcefully on it.

Goddamn. I’m contemplating letting her have control of this whole ordeal. She might fuck even better than I thought.

“Hell yes, just like that.”

“I saw you staring at my tits in the office. You’ve been teasing me with this dick all week. You want to fuck them. Don’t you?”

I grin. What have I created? This woman is incredible, radiating sexual confidence. I’m going to change her life. “Thought you’d never ask.”

She looks around as if she’s suddenly worried about someone seeing her pull her tits out. Never mind the fact that she just smothered her face with my balls. Before I know it, she has her bra pulled out through her sleeve, and she’s lifted her shirt up, releasing a beautiful pair of natural tits that bounce slightly. I want to bury my face between them and never come out.

She squeezes them together and lets her spit slowly fall into her cleavage. “You like these?”

“They’re fucking perfect.”

“I can’t wait to watch you fuck them.” She spits on my cock, then scoops under her tits with one arm, her free hand palming my shaft. She slaps the head of my dick on each one, then teases at her nipples with it. I’m about to explode every time her tight pearls rub against my swollen head.

“You like it when I slap your cock on these big fucking tits?”

“Hell yes.”

Then she slaps it on her cheek and her tongue a few times, sucking the tip for a moment. Before I know it, she has those gorgeous breasts wrapped around the length of me, bobbing up and down.

God I love my dick between her tits.

She slides me back and forth between them, increasing and decreasing the tempo at will. I fist her ponytail in one hand, and cage her throat with the other. Her eyes grow wide as I thrust my cock back and forth between her tits.

I have to get inside of her. It’s uncontrollable.

I grab her under her arms and yank her to her feet. She lets out a slight squeal that turns to a moan as I flip her around and shove her up against the side of the car. Her legs spread, offering her ass to me. “You want my cock inside you?” I smack her ass and dig in with my fingers, as I lean in next to her ear.

“Please.”

I slap my dick on her ass from the side, watching the unsuspecting people come in and out of the building. “You’ve been dreaming about this all week haven’t you? This big fucking dick in your tight cunt. It’s been driving you crazy. Hasn’t it?”

“Mmhmm.” She nods.

“Ask me for it.”

“Can I have your cock?”

“How bad do you want it?” I grip her by the hair and she moans.

I rub my dick underneath her, back and forth between her soaking wet lips, coating it with her wetness.

“Give it to me. Please. I want to come on your cock.”

I pull back on her hair and her face tilts toward the ceiling. Her tits press against the car window as I tease my head around the edge of her pussy. I slowly push into her, watching my cock disappear an inch at a time.

Goddamn. She’s so fucking tight and wet.

She’s moaning and I haven’t even given it all to her yet. I can’t wait for her hot walls to spasm around me.

I work about three quarters into her and I start to speed up. Surprisingly, nobody has even turned a head in our direction. I lean in next to her ear. “You ready for me to fuck this pussy?”

“God yes!”

I grip her around the waist and go into jackhammer mode. She starts to scream and bites down on her forearm that is resting on the car. My pelvis is ramming into her ass cheeks, smacking into her as I plunge balls deep. Her tits shake against the glass.

“You like that shit?”

She can’t even respond. I grab her ponytail and smack her ass with my free hand, leaving a red hand print.

“You like that? You like being fucked like a naughty little slut?”

“Jesus, I’m going to come again.”

“Yeah, come all over this fucking dick you’ve been craving.”

Her hot cunt closes in on me. Her eager pussy clenching for more. She’s going to make me blow my load. I reach around and play with her clit, working tiny circles around it while ramming her full speed. Her thighs start to tremble. It’s all too familiar now. She knows what she’s capable of, and she needs it. I push her past the breaking point and her pussy clamps down on me, her ass and hips vibrating out of control as she bucks back into my cock.

I hear a moan and she pauses, unable to speak. Number two is a success. Her mouth opens to scream but no words come out, just a slight squeal and heavy, deep breaths. I flip her around and lift her against the car, working my cock back inside of her. The car is supporting most of her weight as her tits smash against me.

“Are you going to come for me?” She grips my tie in her right hand.

“Soon.”

“I want it on my face.” She yanks me closer by the tie, those blue eyes locked on mine. I picture her on her knees, looking at me with those eyes, while I blast her face with my warm load. It sends me into a frenzy. I start pounding into her. The smacking sounds of me ramming her, coupled with my balls slapping up against her tight little asshole, have me in another world.

Tension builds inside me as I continue to fuck her as fast and as hard as possible. I can feel my load inching its way up my shaft as she starts convulsing on my prick with orgasm number three. When she squeezes that slick little cunt around me, it’s all over. “Get on your knees.” I slip my prick out into my palm and start stroking it furiously.

She kneels down and looks up at me, her mouth open wide with her tongue sticking out, those gorgeous blue eyes locked back on mine once more, begging for every ounce.

The head of my cock is expanding like a balloon. I can’t speak. I can only nod to give her a warning before thrusting and letting loose. I spray across her nose and up under one of her eyes, grunting with each thrust. Her eyes close as I explode all over her. Each stroke of my cock sends a new stream into her mouth and onto her forehead, some of it dripping down to her tits. The sight of her face covered in my hot come makes my balls ache as my pelvis and thighs quiver. Finally, I finish, releasing the last of it onto her soft, pink tongue.

I grab a tee shirt from inside the car. She cleans up the tip of my cock and shaft, before wiping the rest from her face and tits.

I can’t lie. I fuck all the time, but it never gets old. Every unique conquest is etched into my mind, a memory I’ll keep forever. Each orgasm is like a symphony, in a different location, with different instruments. I look back down into those huge, satisfied blue eyes. A huge grin spreads across her face.

“That was amazing.” My breath is labored as I admire her beautiful face.

“You think?” She giggles. “I didn’t even know that was fucking possible. Who are you?” The panty whisperer.  

 


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Sloane Howell lives in the Midwest United States and writes dirty stories. When not reading or writing he enjoys hanging out with his family, watching sports, playing with the dogs, traveling, and engaging his readers on social media. You can almost always catch him on Twitter posting something goofy.

Visit his web page to sign up for his mailing list to get updates on new releases, promos, and giveaways.
Thanks for reading.

 

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