Thank you so much Evelise, for giving me the chance to introduce your readers to my new release, Dear Philomena: Love, Lust & Murder on Chincoteague Island.
Something crashed in the woods. Was it a deer? Or something more dangerous? Dagne didn’t care; she just kept running…
I Heart Book Publishing, October 12, 2015
eBook, 72,000 words, Print on demand, 209 pp
Romantic Suspense, Contemporary Romantic Suspense, Mystery Romance
Romantic Suspense, Contemporary Romantic Suspense, Mystery Romance
M/F, 3 flames
Dagne Lonegan, aka Dear Philomena, advice columnist, hoped that spending a year on the Eastern Shore island of Chincoteague would extinguish any feelings she had left for Jack Andrews, erstwhile lover and long-time jerk. It’s just her luck that in her first week on the island she’s entangled in a murder. Only she doesn’t know it. Unfortunately, the murderer doesn’t know she doesn’t know. Strange and dangerous things begin happening to her, disrupting her new romance with Aidan Ellis, the handsome manager of the National Wildlife Refuge. As if that weren’t enough, Jack arrives to take charge of the murder investigation.
Will Dagne stick with the tall, cool glass of a Ranger or risk falling back into the arms of the man who broke her heart?
Assateague, where the Body is found, and where much of the action in Dear Philomena takes place, is the actual island on which lies Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge. Chincoteague, just west of Assateague, is a wonderful small Eastern Shore island, rich in history and adventure and Chesapeake Bay seafood—the best in the world. Some restaurants, like Pony Pines and Memories, are gone now. Some soldier on as they have for generations—Etta’s, where Dagne and Aidan have lunch, and Bill’s, where Dagne scarfs down dozens of oysters, or Don’s. Then there’s Wright’s, where Dagne and Jack renew their…acquaintance in an unusual and sensual way.
A young woman shuffled toward them, stopping to pick up two large, thick menus. “Anywhere.”
They took that to mean they had a choice of seating, and picked a table by the window. Dagne ordered the flounder and Jack chose crab cakes. They gazed out at the choppy gray water, avoiding each other’s eyes. The waitress brought glasses of wine. Dagne took a large swig, but still couldn’t think of anything to say. She didn’t have a clue where they stood or what Jack was thinking, not to mention how she felt about things. His profile was, as usual, sphinx-like. Impassive. Unreadable. And so handsome. She could see his long black lashes and the glint of cyan in his eyes. His scent, always fresh and clean, drifted across the table. He turned to face her, and she felt the blood rise hotly to her cheeks.
Sipping his wine, he studied her. “I always forget how beautiful you are.”
Dagne waited for her throat to open up, and finally emitted a squirrely “Thank you.”
He continued to canvass her features.
A broad face, heavily made up, came between them. The words, “Crab cakes?” came out along with a puff of Marlborough.
Jack accepted his plate with a wry grin. The waitress set trenchers of coleslaw and hush puppies on the table and slid a platter with a fish at least a foot long under Dagne’s nose. Chunks of crabmeat oozed out of its belly. It smelled wonderful.
An hour later, Jack paid, and they walked arm in arm out to her car. Both Dagne’s stomach and heart were replete. Night had fallen. “The traffic should have cleared by now. Why don’t I give you a ride back to…I’ve forgotten where you’re staying?”
“It’s a bed and breakfast in New Church. Not far. Thanks.” They got in. As Dagne searched for her keys, Jack’s arm settled on her shoulder. She backed out of the parking lot and headed down the dirt road. His hand rubbed her neck gently. She pressed back. It felt so good. She didn’t even mind when his other hand began to wander down toward her breast, but thought it prudent to suppress the urge to help him. His breath came huskily in her ear.
“Dagne, I want you. Now.”
“Jack, we’re in a car!”
“On a deserted road. Out in the wilderness.”
“It’s a farm. Somebody’s farm.”
“Yeah, I know. Perfect. Pull over.”
Anticipation clouded her judgment. Jack pulled her out of the car, opened the rear door, and pushed her onto the back seat. His hot breath seared her belly where he’d pulled up her sweatshirt. A tongue tickled her navel, then licked upwards till it reached her bra. His hand moved on her back and an instant later, she felt the sweet release of her breasts from the underwire. They weren’t free for long. His mouth fastened on her nipple and began to suckle. Dagne writhed in ecstasy. “Jack, no. You are too bad. No, don’t.”
For answer, he moved to the other nipple. When he lifted her skirt something cold and hard ground into her. The seat belt buckle gouged her naked thighs. Fortunately, his fingers distracted her from the pain as they pulled her panties aside—“Mmm, silk. You know what that does to me, Dagne”—and pressed inside her. A second later, they were replaced by a mouth that began to massage her labia, blowing softly on the engorged lips. She felt his tongue dart inside, licking and sucking, setting the tender flesh on fire. Her orgasm crackled upward and sucked all the oxygen out of the tiny space.
“Jack…Jack…oh my God…Jack.” She fell to earth. As she lay panting she heard the sound of a zipper. Where his fingers had roamed, a most welcome, rough, hard cock beat up her thigh and entered her. It moved in and out, hardening with each thrust, faster and faster. She fell into the rhythm and they rocked, the car rocking in tandem with them.
Jack’s voice came urgently, muffled in her hair. “Dagne, come with me, come with me.”
“I will.” What else could she say? She rose to meet him and in a great whoosh they met and melded into one perfect creature, undivided. He let his body settle gently on hers, and they lay quietly. Just as Dagne began to drift off to sleep, a light hit her eyes and the sound of a truck engine broke the stillness. “Jack, Jack, get off me! Quick! It’s the tow truck!”
Jack scrambled to the side, pulling his jeans up. He let out an oath and she heard a sucking sound. “Damned zipper.” Meanwhile she pulled both her sweatshirt and her skirt down, scrambled out the door, and dove for the front seat. In the same moment, the driver pulled off the road behind the Subaru.
“You the one needing a tow, Lady?”
Dagne thanked her lucky stars there were no street lights, only a few bright stars and a sliver of moon. “No, not me. It’s the Miata, back in the restaurant parking lot.” Oh my God, I’m chirping like an embarrassed gerbil.
Jack climbed out of the back seat and, shielding his eyes from the truck’s headlights, called, “It’s my car. She was going to give me a ride home, but since you’re here, why don’t I come along with you?”
“Sure, hop in the truck and we’ll go take a look.”
Dagne could barely see Jack’s outline as he crouched by the window. His lips brushed hers.
“Gotta see a man about a car.” He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving behind only the crunch of gravel under his boots.
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dear-philomena-ms-spencer/1122797778
About the Author:
Although M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five continents, the last thirty years have been spent mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director and parent. She has two fabulous grown children and a perfect granddaughter, and currently divides her time between the Gulf coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.
Contact M. S. Spencer here:
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2015 ©Evelise Archer All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.