Purple Prosaic :: Beach Magic


Cover © Alessia Brio	BEACH MAGIC PP-042, PURPLE PROSAIC, WORK-IN-PROGRESS Sarah Douglas spent the bulk of her days—and all of her nights, of late—alone. She worked from a small office tucked in the corner of the cozy tropical beach house purchased with an inheritance from an obscenely wealthy uncle who she'd never met. It would be an idyllic life in an idyllic location if she had someone idyllic with whom to share it. [EROTICA, LESBIAN, EROTIC ROMANCE, CONTEMPORARY]		BUY DIRECT USING GOOGLE CHECKOUT* OR PAYPAL* PAYPAL ORDERS ARE FULFILLED AUTOMATICALLY GOOGLE CHECKOUT ORDERS ARE FILLED MANUALLY DELIVERY MAY REQUIRE UP TO 48 HRS
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	Sarah Douglas spent the bulk of her days—and all of her nights, of late—alone. She worked from a small office tucked in the corner of the cozy tropical beach house purchased with an inheritance from an obscenely wealthy uncle who she'd never met. It would be an idyllic life in an idyllic location if she had someone idyllic with whom to share it. Her relationship history provided enough fodder for a How-NOT-To manual on dating and romance. The most recent debacle ended with a pathetic whimper the week before Christmas. In fact, her day's agenda included returning the rather expensive gift she'd purchased for Richard T. Worthington, Esquire. Or Dick, as she'd since come to refer to him. She decided that her relationships failed because she swam in the wrong sea. The fish she needed to catch inhabited other, livelier, more interesting seas. Seas swarming with handsome, debonair men with strong arms and vibrant personalities. Not her typical catch: the pasty-fleshed geek who hung out on the reef all day, finding his fill of titillation in the new season of Leverage. Maybe, Sarah admitted to herself one particularly candid evening after half a bottle of chardonnay, she should open her exploration even further. Women, especially the type she'd never be—namely, vivacious and ultra feminine—intrigued her. She didn't quite know if she wanted to bed them or be them. It was difficult enough to find a life partner. Why rule out half the population? Her experience with women was limited to a singular fuzzy episode in college. She couldn't even recall the girl's name, but she could visualize her as if it were only yesterday. Rum, Diet Coke, and a bawdy game of Truth or Dare led to a night of clumsy—yet quite satisfying—girl sex. Sarah thought the experience bore repeating while sober to determine whether she could be content with such a relationship. The new year brought, as usual, a slate of resolutions. To the de rigueur fitness, diet, and organization commitments, Sarah added a new one: extroversion. She knew that sort of about-face wasn't going to be easy, especially while working in a solitary profession at a secluded location. However, she was determined to overcome her reticence to "meat space" socialization and cultivate a crop of friends. Even in college, Sarah hadn't been much of a partier. Crowds exhausted her. Small talk bored her. Inanity made her want to vomit. She studiously avoided situations that combined the three. Thus, her new resolution was proving a significant challenge. Each evening, online, she poured out her frustrations to her closest confidantes: a forum of discerning technical writers, much like her, who provided commiseration and assured her that she was indeed worthy of such quality companionship. However, their helpfulness ended there, for they—like her—lacked the requisite "Social Butterfly" skill set. It took a good two weeks before Sarah accepted that drastic measures were necessary. She was going to have to have… …a party.