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Tex Appeal : Real Good Man Unbroken I Can Still Feel You...
Ride 'em, cowgirls!
What do you get when you take a hunky former rodeo star, a real good old boy and a randy Ranger and pair them with three women who desperately need to get some action between the sheets? A Valentine's Day with tons of Tex appeal!
Real Good Man by Kimberly Raye
Cheryl Anne Cash is now an official "carnal" coach! And she can't wait to show her former lover exactly what he's been missing....
Unbroken by Alison Kent
Dr. Tess Autrey is no buckle bunny. But a certain wickedly sexy rancher may change her mind!
I Can Still Feel You... by Cara Summers
Months ago, Macy's Texas Ranger lover disappeared in the night. Now he's back--and she has some very naughty ideas about evening the score....
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January 31, 2008
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Excerpt from Tex Appeal by Alison Kent
Skull Creek, Texas (forty-five miles north of San Antonio) One week before Valentine's Day...
It was just a penis.
Cheryl Anne Cash drew a deep breath and tried to calm her frantic nerves. A sophisticated, worldly, do-anything city girl did not freak out at the sight of a guy's johnson. And she certainly didn't hesitate. Or blush. No, she simply tackled the situation with an interested gaze, a steady hand and an attitude that said no biggee.
Except that it was a biggee. A gargantuan monster, in fact, compared to the average male penis which was only five and a half inches long when erect--a little tidbit she'd picked up during her Internet research on the subject.
She eyed the specimen at her fingertips. This baby came in at a full twelve inches. Easy.
She drew a deep breath and gathered her composure. Reaching out, she touched the long, smooth shaft and eased her trembling fingers up and down in a quick slide.
There. That wasn't so bad. The thing didn't sprout horns. Or jump up and bite her. Even more, she didn't pass out from embarrassment. Nor did steam shoot out of her ears. A major coup since her cheeks felt as if they were on fire.
She shifted her attention to the forty-eight-inch plasma television her parents had bought her as a going away present six weeks ago. She studied the latest technique being demonstrated by a buxom blonde with bedroom eyes, bee-stung lips and crimson-tipped nails. After a few thoughtful seconds, Cheryl tackled the task with both hands.
"The key is to keep a firm grip," Buxom Blonde said, her tone bold and pronounced. While the appearance said ditzy porn star, the voice told a very different story. Smart. Educated. Knowledgeable. At least when it came to sex.
"Despite male perception, the penis is far from invincible. It's very possible to cause serious bodily injury during an intricate hand technique, which would obviously undermine the overall objective--to increase the pleasure for both partners. Therefore make sure the fingers are touching at all points, but do not squeeze..."
Cheryl Anne fought down her reservations and followed along for the next few minutes, practicing the various movements on the sizeable member in her grasp. Her right hand did a twist and curl around the base of the shaft. Her left petted and stroked. She even practiced licking her lips and lowering her eyelids just enough to give her that hooded, bedroom look as she eyed the object of her attention.
Soon she moved with confidence, her grip just right, her technique smooth and polished, as if she'd been doing it for six years rather than a measly six weeks.
She could definitely do this.
In private, a voice reminded her. With the instructional video Hand Jobs Made Easy blazing in front of her.
But could she do it in front of a bunch of paying customers eager to beef up their own sexual resume?
Maybe. Maybe not.
In exactly five hours and forty-five minutes--at seven-thirty that very evening--she was going to find out.
She would have half the females in Skull Creek sitting in her sparse living room, looking to her for guidance.
Women who were sacrificing time with their significant other in the name of education. They would expect expert advice on how to jumpstart their relationships, and plenty of snacks to fuel the process.
Her gaze swept the small card table set up in her microscopic dining room. She had a half dozen bowls overflowing with everything from Chex Mix to Doritos, Cheez-Its to trail mix. She even had a vegetable tray that she'd sliced and diced herself.
The snacks she had covered.
As for the expert advice...
Eyeing the newly framed diploma from the UniversityofLove.com that hung on her wall, she tried to summon her courage. She'd completed every assignment of the online course and she'd made a perfect score on the final exam, and so she'd earned the title of Carnal Coach, as well as the Pleasure Chest of educational tools sitting on her coffee table and the phallic-shaped name tag pinned to her chest. She was more than ready to instruct her first group of paying customers.
Without getting embarrassed.
The thing is, when she'd signed up at the UniversityofLove, she'd expected to learn something about, well, love.
To have and to hold. 'Til death do us part. Forever and ever... That sort of thing. But other than a small section entitled "Revving up the romance"--which offered tips like writing daily love notes and starting the morning with a lingering kiss--the majority of what she'd learned revolved around the big S.
Not that being a sexpert was bad. It was great for a woman determined to do a complete one-eighty from boring, naive, sheltered country girl to exciting, knowledgeable, worldly woman.
Cheryl Anne drew a deep breath and went over her demonstration a few more times using the gonzo "penis"--also known as a banana.