He’s filled with turmoil and heartache and regrets, but for two hours every Wednesday all he feels is me. How much I desire him, how desperate he makes me, how much I’d like things to be different between us. Real.He used to be my best friend back before he got married. And now? Now, he’s a young widower. It would be wrong on so many levels to expect something more from him, so I give him what he needs. Dark, delicious fucking.But I know I can’t keep this up. I’ve already given him my body, my soul. I want him to have my heart. It might drive him away forever, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.Wednesday is an angsty romp told from dual points of view. If you’re in the mood for something quick and dirty, you’ve found it. Proceed at your own risk.

     I came to my friend's wedding to be polite. Big social events were never been my thing. I was always rather shy and kept to myself. Once the vows were said, I was ready to go. Then a mountain of a man started talking to me. Mason Foster. The groom's brother. He had a British accent that made want to swoon. I tried to resist his charm, but he was persistent. He made me feel things I had never felt before... Roses are red Violets are blue Flirt Club has a brand new collaboration Just for you! Join twelve of the Flirt Club authors in this hot and steamy spring collection where our May Flowers bloom faster than a hothouse rose! Kelli's Note: If you are a fan of my Once Upon a Daddy series, you will see a few of your favorite characters again in this delightful short story.

    After you’ve seen a woman strip down at the laundry room to wash the clothes she’s wearing, then saunter across the street naked, you’ve seen it all, right? How naïve I was. After the factory closed, leaving me and a good portion of the town unemployed, I took a job managing Scarlet Toys. I knew it wouldn’t be a typical work environment, selling adult toys in a town more uptight than a constipated nun, but some things you just never see coming. Like the protesters covered in poison ivy, screaming about smut peddlers. Or a dancing dinosaur named Fappy. Or the allure of the man standing in the center of all the chaos. Wyatt Lawson, a six foot, four inch heap of muscle with a quick smile, ignited my interest in more than the available manager position. Like the missionary one. Or the rodeo. Maybe the side rider. What can I say? I’m an overachiever. Let’s just hope he doesn’t scare easily. This is the first book in a series of standalone novels.