Thursday, 5 June 2014

Secret Intimacies

Martha McKinley's Debut Novel with House of Erotica

A collection of six stories for you to experience the breadth of real-world people and their most intimate secrets: from a woman who gets down to a man who can’t get up: from a well-meaning yet anxious guy to a sweet but insensitive girl: from a clueless bloke to an endearing lass. The resulting narratives provide characters you can love, situations that become so messy that you can’t help but laugh, and sexual escapades that make you wish for some for yourself. 

Available now on Kindle - Coming soon to other major online retailers

So, whats hidden inside?...

"... I got something to tell you..."

Why shouldn’t I worry? This probably changes things. No. It definitely changes things! Every thing. I had sex with Bart, a married man. Get it, you rash brain. I’m a married woman who just had sex with another woman’s husband. And not simply another woman, but one of my friends. What was I thinking? Obviously, I wasn’t.
I glanced over at Robbie, driving us home, tapping on the steering wheel and belting out the words to Billie Joel’s Only the Good Die Young coming over the radio. “You Catholic girls start much too late...”
The irony of it all. I was one of them: a graduate eight years ago of St. Margaret’s Academy, an all girls’ high school run by the Sisters of Notre Dame. In my four years there, I had had negligible experience with boys--just a handful of dances in the gym at the neighboring Catholic boys’ school. I never had a boyfriend. I was never even confident enough in myself to flirt, for I never found the girl looking back at me in the mirror to be anything but plain.
In college, no one had even asked me out until my junior year when Robbie did. I was so flummoxed, so flattered, so sure it must be a charity act that I spent the next two years at Macalester in perpetual gratitude, satisfying his every need. And right after graduation, with a BFA in painting, Miss flat chested and shy, but virgin no more Mary Johnson married Mister handsome, self-assured, going places Robbie Dwyer.
“I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints...” he sang, glancing over at me, suggestively.
Did he do it, too? Did he have sex with Robyn in the hot tub after Bart and I got out? It was entirely possible. In the four years since we were married, he had confessed to at least a half dozen women who turned him on...

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