I was looking forward to a relaxing, enjoyable vacation at my parents’ old house on the lake. No responsibility, no stress, and no entanglements, other than the odd one-night bang with a gorgeous guy (who preferably dresses left). When a cop pulled over to check on me, I was blindsided. Officer Russell Seavers was an absolute hunk – and I had to have him. Just once (or maybe twice), but no way was I in the market for anything serious. Just a quick slick grapple by the lake, a hop or two in the sack, and I’d be good. But one look at that body that just didn’t quit, oh God, that ass, and those dark, dark eyes, and I was afraid my summer fling might turn into something else, something I didn’t expect.
Author
Catt Ford lives in front of the computer monitor, in another world where her imaginary gay friends obey her every command. She likes cats, chocolate, swing dancing, sleeping, Monty Python, Aussie friends, being silly, spinning other realities with words, and sea glass. She dislikes caterpillars, cigarette smoke, and rude people who think the F-word (as in faggot, or bundle of sticks) is acceptable. A frustrated perfectionist, she comforts herself with the legend about the weavers of Persian rugs always including one mistake so as not to anger the gods, although she has no need to include a mistake on purpose. One always slips through. Writing fiction has filled a need for clever conversations, only possible when one is in control of both sides, and erotic romances, where everything for the most part turns out happily ever after. Visit Catt's blog at http://catt-ford.livejournal.com/.
