About the Author
Cindy Cruciger was born on a full moon night in Okeechobee, Florida. A few days later, the doctor who delivered her disappeared in the Bermuda Triangle.
Her first work of fiction won a Romantic Times Book Club contest, and for three years she has been chronicling the strange world of an aspiring author, trying to get published. Her Path to Publishing column appears monthly in RT Book Club Magazine.
She currently lives in the village of Islamorada -- until her neighbors read this book and kick her off the island.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
"You ready?" He looked directly into my eyes, and I definitely got the feeling that Howard was all business now.
Hell no, I'm not ready, but I'm not about to tell him that. Even though the big secret is out that I haven't had sex in ten years -- maybe more now that I think about it -- I've never fessed up to anyone about how bad the sex was when I was actually getting it. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I was a college kid. Sex was everywhere, so there's no excuse for not finding the big "O" with someone, or even by myself -- but trust me, had I known the dry spell after college was going to be this long, I would have strapped a mattress to my back and gone to class naked until the goal was reached. Maybe.
I swallowed hard, "Ready."
He smiled that wicked little smile guys do when they know they are about to get lucky. I love that smile. It does things to my inner thighs. You have no idea. He stood up and poured two glasses half full of Merlot and walked over to hand me one. Tapping his glass against mine he leaned in to my ear and whispered, "So am I."