Knocking up Amber

Frank just wanted to spend a quiet weekend alone. His best friend’s wife, however, had other plans. Amber is a tall, voluptuous red-head who has had a secret crush on Frank. Now she has set out to capture him. Will he take her hard and without protection? You’ll have to take a peek inside to find out.

Excerpt:

I wasn't expecting anyone over today as I had the day off and with no plans, was going to sleep in. I certainly wasn't expecting my best friend's gorgeous wife, Amber, to rap on the door at seven in the morning.

With great reluctance, I groggily rolled out of bed, stepped into my boxers and stumbled to the door.

"Coming!" I shouted as I turned on the hall lights and made a bee-line to the sound of the incessant knocking. I almost expected it to be the police the way they carried on. That I had a hang-over didn't help the situation.

"What in God's earth?" I asked, opening the door just a crack, shielding the blinding sun from my half-opened, bleary eyes.

"Frank! I'm so glad you're home!" Amber said as she barreled past me and closed and locked the door behind her.

In my post-drunken haze and stupor, I could not comprehend what was going on. "Why are you here?" Was all I could manage.

She rummaged around in the kitchen as though she lived here and began brewing us some coffee.

"It's Jim," she said finally as she turned off the coffeemaker and poured herself a cup.

"Jim?" I asked, stumbling to the machine and grabbed myself a cup. "Oh God, this tastes good," I remarked as the hot liquid hit my throat and belly. "Nothing like a good cuppa in the morning." I looked up at her expectantly and saw her arch an eyebrow in my direction.

Now that I had some of my senses back (I'd have more once I figured out where the bottle of Tylenol was), I could appreciate the goddess standing before me. And when I say goddess, I mean it.

Amber was a tall, lean fiery red-head - both in color and temperament. She didn't take shit from anyone and was always the first one in a fight. My eyes fell upon her voluptuous breasts. Her body may have been lithe, but she was well stacked. Most women would kill for her looks.

"Ahem," she cleared her throat as she noticed where my feeble attention had gone. "Yes, Jim." She answered my question.

"What'd the poor bastard do this time?" I ribbed her.

She threw back her long, flaming hair and laughed; an open-throated laugh that sent chills racing up my spine. This is what I'm talking about - she pulls no punches. She says what she means and means what she says.

When she stopped laughing, she looked me dead in the eyes, her tone suddenly serious. "That poor bastard - as you affectionately refer to him - just got caught cheating."

I nearly sprayed my coffee all over the linoleum. "Jimmy? Nuh-uh!"

She nodded her head and I could see that she was serious.

"With who?" I couldn't believe that Jimmy, the guy I'd known since forever, and who had caught the most delectable fish in the ocean, went back for seconds.

"I don't know," she ran her hands through her hair, "some floozy he picked up at the gym." She sat down on my leather couch and kicked off her shoes, revealing her very pretty, high-arched feet.