Pounding the Pavement

by Santina Day

Genres: Erotic & Steamy Romance

Synopsis

An Xcite Books collection of five erotic stories with mixed cougar and jackals themes.



Pounding The Pavement



Tasha can't pass up an opportunity to camp out for concert tickets for her favorite band's farewell tour. It starts out a long night on the cold concrete, until she meets Ari. Ari is a die-hard fan, just like her. Except he was in grammar school when the band first got together. When rain forces Tasha and Ari to share a tent, things really start to rock and roll.



Angelica



As Jerry's sex life at home dwindles to nothing, this unassuming college bookkeeper strikes up a friendship with a bright and beautiful full-figured Latina co-ed. As their feelings turn from warm to hot, can they overcome the obstacles that will allow them to be together and share their mutual passion?



The Black Bikini



Jen hasn't had sex for months. Clearing out her wardrobe, she comes across a long-lost tiny black bikini that brings back memories of the sensual woman she used to be, before her confidence was dented by ex. She vows to find herself again. That afternoon, she is stunned to see her friend's son at a barbecue. Luke has grown into a hunky young man. Her tiny black bikini will hopefully provide the perfect prop to seduce him.



Seeing Red



When Morwenna falls for Gareth, the rugged new older man in her best friend's life, she keeps her desire for him a secret. She resigns herself to relieving the frustrations she feels alone, but when Gareth pays an unexpected visit to her home, the chemistry between them is undeniable. Can she reconcile her conflicting lust and loyalty?



Curfew



When a frightened youth chased by soldiers seeks sanctuary at her door, fiercely independent Maya makes a quick decision. Her courage and cleverness help her to discover a way to fight back against the soldiers who killed her husband. At the same time the youth's beauty and sexual naïvete dramatically rekindle her latent lust for living and her strong desire for satisfaction.



These stories also appear in Cougars and Jackals published by Xcite Books

Release date: November 15, 2012

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 52

Sample

Pounding the Pavement
by Heidi Champa

I always swore I wasn’t the kind of person to camp out for concert tickets. I loved music, but I wasn’t that kind of fan. I would never forego my comfort just for a chance to see some band. In fact, I couldn’t think of any good reason to sleep on a sidewalk in Philadelphia. Or so I thought.

Then I got the email, alerting me to the event that changed my mind completely. It was the very last show of the very last tour of my very, very favourite band. That just wasn’t something I could pass up. I wanted more than anything to be there, front and centre for that gig. The fangirl in me just couldn’t say no. Using up a few vacation days seemed like a small price to pay for the concert chance of a lifetime.

I packed up everything I thought I’d need for my one- night stay, taking way too much stuff with me for such a short trip. I would have gladly slept out longer if I had to, but the local police were only allowing us crazy types to reside on the sidewalk for a single night. I always packed too much stuff, but I was used to having a hotel room to scatter it around. Adjusting to a tiny tent would be a challenge, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

When I arrived on the scene, I was delighted to find that there were only a few other die-hards currently squatting on the slab of cement. I took my place in the queue behind a few other people, setting up my tent the best I could under the circumstances. Surprisingly, my fellow fanatics proved generous, helping me find the best way to keep my tent from falling down, and telling me stories about all the times they’d seen the band before. I felt like a relative newbie compared to their vast experience, but they treated me like one of their own.

By the time I settled in, the sun was starting to set and a long line was forming behind me. There were people everywhere; the excitement in the air was palpable. The line just so happened to include an amazingly cute young guy about three people away from me, wearing a faded band T-shirt from the last tour that went through town. By the look of him, I figured he couldn’t be more than 22 or 23. Doing the math in my head, he must have been in high school when the last tour happened.

He looked up from his sleeping bag and smiled at me. He was one of the few in line who didn’t have a tent with him, content to rough it with his worn-out sleeping bag and a backpack. I watched him create his space, taking in his skinny but muscled frame as he moved. He reminded me so much of a boy I had been mad for in high school, right down to the glasses and faded, ripped jeans. The cute ass didn’t hurt his cause either. He caught me staring, peeking at me over his shoulder. Blushing at being busted, I made a note of how blue his eyes were before I went back into my tent. I felt a little guilty looking at a young guy that way, but I couldn’t help it. Being almost 40 didn’t turn off my libido, after all.

The night on the sidewalk turned quickly into a big party, with the band’s music playing and everyone sharing food and snacks. My buddy with the baby blues came and sat by my tent, offering us all a sample of his homemade brownies. Resisting a man with chocolate was futile, especially when his treats came with a killer smile that threatened to reduce me to a giggling schoolgirl. At the ripe old age of 39. He surprised me by moving just a few inches closer to me, his knee touching mine as we sat Indian-style on a small blanket I had brought.

‘So, you a big fan of the band?’

His voice was deeper than I thought it would be, his accent a muddle-mix of classic southern and classic Philly. It made me smile, which bought me time to push my nerves away before I spoke.

‘Oh, yeah. For years. When they announced that this was the last tour, I knew I just had to see them one more time. What about you? Been a fan long?’

It was my subtle way of finding out just how young he might be and his answer stabbed the small part of me that was starting to feel old.

‘You kidding? I’ve been listening to them since the first record came out when I was in grammar school. My Dad loves them, too. But, I couldn’t convince him to come and camp out with me. My name is Ari, by the way.’

He held out his hand, his long, tapered fingers capped with black-polished fingernails. I ignored the comment about his dad and shook his hand lightly. But his grip tightened as I tried to pull away. Finally, he dropped my hand, but he edged a fraction closer to me, making me feel a bit warm despite the cool night air. I met his eyes and took in his crooked grin. G. . .