New Release: Woodland Daughter

Woodland Daughter is set in Yorkshire in 1902, Queen Victoria has died and the new century has brought in many changes, including another Boer War in South Africa, which features a little in this story.

A new century brings change to the carefully ordered world Eden Harris maintains, change that threatens all she holds dear. Despite years of devoted service to the Bradburys, the leading family of the community, Eden hides a secret that would affect them all. When an enemy returns, her world is shattered and her secret exposed. Torn and provoked, she strains to protect her family until a devastating accident leaves her alone and frightened. As the threat against her grows, Eden takes her precious daughters and flees from the only place she's called home, to live amongst masses in York. Her attempt to start anew is not so simple as the past haunts her, and the one man she thought lost to her so many years before, returns to claim what has always been his. Eden must gather her strength and look into her heart to accept what the future offers. Can she find the happiness she longs for?

Joel rested his body against the ship’s rail, bracing himself for the slightest pain in his shoulder. With one arm in a sling tucked beneath his uniform jacket, he was careful to keep out of the way of people. The slightest touch could have him sweating in pain. The sea breeze lifted the hair on his forehead and neck, cooling him slightly. He needed a haircut, but he’d wait until he’d reach England before attending to that.
Below him on the deck, he watched the crowds scurrying about like ants. Soldiers, nurses, travellers, ship crew, dock workers all hurried back and forth. Behind him, from within the ship, came the noise of eager travellers settling in for their ocean journey.
He stared out into the distance, where Table Mountain dominated the view. He was sad to be leaving Africa. He’d come to think of it as home in a way. The sights and sounds, the heat and people were familiar now. Of course nothing competed against Bradbury Hall, but he’d been in Africa for seven years. It was a long time. The army had replaced his family. He’d learnt to rely on his fellow officers to ease the loneliness, and at first it had worked well. The adventure and excitement kept his mind from thinking of home. But lately, for the last year and a half, a yearning to return home had claimed him and not let go.  
The ships funnels belched smoke and the boarding siren wailed. Under his feet he felt the deck shudder as the enormous engines surged with power. Anticipation welled. He was going home. Despite the ache in his shoulder, he smiled. Time to start a new phase of his life. Time to reaffirm the links with his family, the estate, old friends, and… Eden.
He was conscious of the changes awaiting him back home. Much had happened in his absence. Not long after he joined the regiment, his mother died. That had been a blow, but on the whole he had managed to keep the family and home intact in his mind. When he’d left England, his father had been alive, Charlie well, Annabella cheeky, pretty, naive and Eden… Eden had been beautiful, a free spirit of the woodland where she lived.
What awaited him now?
The ship eased from its berth and glided out into the harbour. The breeze sharpened and Joel turned away from the rail. He glanced at a crippled solider standing near the door leading into one of the saloons. The soldier swayed on his crutches, one leg gone in battle.
“Major Bradbury?”
Joel checked his step and hurried over to steady the man with his good arm.
“Thanks, Sir.” The solider smiled.
“Stevens, isn’t it?” Joel mused, helping the man to lean against a wall and out of the way of other passengers.
“Stevenson, Sir, Corporal Dave Stevenson.” He leaned against the support and breathed out slowly. “I still haven’t got the hang of these things yet.” He held up the crutches.  
Joel grinned. “I think it might be an art that takes practice, Corporal.”
Dave took of his hat and wiped the seat off from his forehead, his fair hair stuck to his head. “Do you mind, Sir, if I sit down? This leg isn’t used to holding all the weight and gets a bit shaky, like.”
“Of course, man, sit.” Joel again aided Stevenson in lowering to the deck. There were no chairs about and after a moment’s hesitation, Joel join him and gently eased his backside down, careful not to jar his shoulder. “We should have gone inside, it would be more comfortable.”
“Sorry, Sir, but I’m no sailor. Once inside my stomach has a mind of its own. I’m better out here.”
“Well, I’ll keep you company for a while until dinner is announced. My stomach is the opposite of yours. Once on the ocean I’m always ravenous. I do nothing but eat.”
“You might struggle with a knife and fork, using only one hand.”
Joel chuckled. “Yes, true. So far I’ve had only soup and sandwiches.”
Stevenson laid his crutches beside his good leg and gazed out through the iron rail. “So, we’re going back home to England. I’ve been away three years. I should be happy to be going back, but I’m not as excited as I should be, I don’t think.”
“It affects men in different ways.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, Sir, how do you feel? Was your clipped wing the reason for you to go home?”
“Yes. My shoulder stopped a bullet.” He glanced down at his padded and bandaged left shoulder. “Normally they’d take it out and I’d be back in the mix of things, but this Boer bullet went in at an angle and wedge itself deep. The surgeon managed to get it out, but he wasn’t sure what damaged had been done. Only once the swelling has gone down and the soreness gone, will I know what strength remains in the arm.”
“Does your family know about it yet?”
“No, not yet. It didn’t seem worth writing when I was going home anyway. What about your family?”
“Oh aye, they know. I’ve been in hospital a while, long enough for letters to go back and forth.” Stevenson bent up his leg and rested his elbow on it. “They say they don’t care if I come home missing a leg, as long as I’m coming home to them. I’m an only child see, and I used to help my father run our grocers shop.”
“Will you do that again?”
“I guess so. Funny how things change, isn’t it. I hated working in that shop as a lad. All my friends would be out playing football or cricket and I’d be stuck behind a counter. The first opportunity I got to leave I took, and that was the army.” He tapped the toe of his boot on the deck. “Now, I can’t wait to get back there. I miss me mam and dad, and me gran, who lives with us. My mam makes the best jam roly-poly you’ve ever tasted. Dad brews his own beer in the back shed and Gran used to be my partner in cards.”
“There’s nothing better in this world than returning home to a family that loves you.” A picture came into Joel’s mind of the estate in autumn, the tall graceful trees, their leaves turning gold and amber, the squirrels scurrying around in the wood, collecting the last of their booty, harvest time and bringing in the hay, the smell of open fires as the gardeners raked up and burnt the fallen leaves.
He leaned his head back and smiled in remembrance. “I long to go riding with my brother. We used to ride for miles. Sometimes we’d stop at a pub and have an ale and a hot pie smothered in gravy.”
“Me mam has written of a neighbour’s daughter, Vera, who she hopes I’ll one day marry. I’m not so sure what Vera has to say about it though. We got along all right before I went away, but…well, I’m not as I once was.”
“If this Vera is a decent woman, she’ll not mind.”
“Maybe.” Stevenson lifted his face to the breeze. “Will you have a girl waiting for you at home, Sir?”
Joel’s stomach clenched. “Perhaps. I’m ready for a family. However, I’ve been away longer than you, and I’m not sure what to expect when I arrive home.”
“None of us are, Sir, none of us are.”   
A group of children ran by, the shoes thundering on the timber deck. One cheeky boy paused and waved to Joel and Stevenson before scampering off again. A harassed nanny tried to catch up as she wheeled a pram after them. Joel watched until they turned a corner at the bow of the ship and were out of sight. His heart constricted, thinking of the boy’s lively face. A son. He wanted a son so badly it hurt. A boy to teach all the things his father taught him, to hunt, to fish, to ride, to play sports. He thought of Charlie. Two sons perhaps. Two fine boys to grow up together like he and Charlie did.
Emotion clogged his throat and he coughed to clear it.  He’d been away from home too long…

Buy in ebook or paperback from all online retailers such Amazon USA and Amazon UK, iBooks, Nook, etc. 

I hope you enjoy it.

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Champion (Studs in Spurs) NEW from NY Times bestseller Cat Johnson

Sometimes you have to lose everything to make room for what really matters…
Ten years ago, Cooper Holbrook was a player when it came to women, and he knew it. Well enough that he took one look at the hero worship in Hannah Anderson’s eyes, and nipped it in the bud. She was no buckle bunny, and he wasn’t the man for her or her young son.
The years have caught up with the former champion bull rider. At forty, he’s got nothing left but a broken-down ranch to go with the friendless, near penniless, broken man he’s become.
Hannah has carried a flame for Cooper since the moment the stubborn cowboy took her son on as a bull riding student. Way back then, she saw the good man beneath the bad- boy exterior.
Now she’s finally going to do something about her feelings. Cooper might think his life is over, but Hannah sees more for him—for them, together. And she’s not giving up until he sees it too.
Warning: Contains a decade’s worth of pent-up sexual tension that’ll be smoking up when it comes charging out of the chute!
Crap. He could think of nothing else but closing that distance and kissing this woman, even though she was the last person on earth he should be kissing. “Hannah.”
“Yeah?” She latched onto her lower lip with her teeth.

He tracked the movement with his eyes. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

He swallowed but his throat still felt dry. “Kiss you.”

“But you’re not kissing me.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“No, but I want to.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And I want you to.”

“Christ.” Sanity lost, he crashed his mouth against hers.

She responded with an enthusiasm to match his own, reaching up and grabbing the back of his head with both hands. She slid her tongue between his lips and he groaned. After being with girls who were too young to know what the hell they wanted, it felt good being with a woman who not only knew, but was ready to take what she needed from him.
Hannah sat facing him in the seat with one knee bent. When Cooper reached out, he connected with the bare skin of her leg.
Her skirt and the position made it too damn easy for him. He slid his hand up the inside of her thigh. She dragged in a ragged breath through her nose. That only encouraged him to go where he knew he shouldn’t, all the way to the crotch of her underwear. She responded by leaning in and kissing him harder, tangling her tongue with his.
He rubbed a thumb over her through the soft cotton and a visible shudder ran through her. Christ almighty, she was sensitive. He repeated the action, and Hannah rewarded him with a tiny sound so raw and full of need it sent a shiver down his spine.
What he could do with some time, a little more space and her naked. Or hell, even if he just slid that finger beneath those underwear and into her. What would she do when he spread her wide and worked her in earnest?
His mind boggled at the thought—before the image of Skeeter’s goofy grin careened into his brain.
Cooper remembered how excited the kid had been when he’d agreed to take him on for lessons. How Skeeter had run to tell his mother, smiling from ear to ear. How concerned she’d looked when she’d no doubt began to calculate the many costs of having a son who wanted to learn to be a bull rider.
What kind of a man was he, taking advantage of a woman like Hannah?
The girl he’d picked up at the bar was inside, and he was just yards away with his hand up the dress of the mother of one of his students. He was one sick motherfucker. The accuracy of that particular term in this situation would have made him laugh, if he hadn’t been so disgusted with himself.
Cooper pulled his hand away and broke the kiss. “Hannah, I can’t do this.”
“I know. I’m not the kind of woman you’re used to. I’m not all doe-eyed and just out of school. I don’t own pretty clothes. I’m just plain and old and tired.” Pulling away, she dropped her arms from around his neck and let out a breath. “It’s okay. I understand. You’re not interested.”
“You shut the hell up.” He grabbed her face in his hands to force her to look at him. “You’re not any of that. You’re amazing. Any man would respect and admire you. Any woman should want to be like you.” Cooper dropped his hold on her. “And that’s why you need to steer as far away from me as you can. You deserve a man far better than me, Hannah. You and Skeeter both.”
“What do you mean?” A crease marred her brow as she shook her head. “Cooper, you’re the best man I know.”
“No, I’m not.” He let out a snort. How could she be so grounded in some respects and so na├»ve in others?
“You are. You took on teaching my son for free when you knew I couldn’t afford to pay you.”
He waved her gratitude away. “So what? That’s nothing but some time I would have wasted doing something else otherwise.”
“It’s not nothing. It’s absolutely everything to Skeeter.”
Cooper was in no position to be everything to anyone. Not to the kid or to her. “Let me tell you about me. I’m drunk most days. I spend far too much money. I don’t give a shit about anybody but myself and I’ll fuck any woman who’ll spread her legs for me.”
He’d been deliberately harsh. He had to be, because she was looking at him with hero worship he didn’t deserve and wasn’t sure he could resist.
Hannah shook her head. “Even if that’s all true, I don’t care about any of it.”
He let out a laugh. “You should care.”
“Maybe I’m tired of doing what I should.” Her tone told him he could have her right here, right now, if he wanted. This woman had been so trodden upon by life, and probably by Skeeter’s father too. Cooper could unzip his jeans, shove those plain cotton drawers of hers to one side and plunge his cock into her, no questions asked.
It would be very tempting to do exactly that. But for once in his life, he was going to do the right thing. Unlike the girl inside, who he had no intention of ever running across again, Hannah was someone he’d have to see. Soon too. The next time this sweet, hardworking, caring woman brought her son around.
Cooper knew exactly where his soul would be going when the time came to put him in the ground, and it wasn’t where this woman would end up when her time came. He wouldn’t be the one to tarnish her goodness.
“Go home, Hannah. It’s late.” He opened the door, grabbed the bag with the beer inside from the floorboard and climbed out of the car. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Wait. Should I still bring Skeeter over to work next week...or not?”
Her question, as well as the hesitation he heard in it, stopped Cooper dead in his tracks. When he turned back, he saw the uncertainty in her expression. All it did was make him angry. At her for not being stronger and threatening to kick his ass if he did back out of their deal over something like this. At himself for acting like a horny prick with his hand up her skirt in the front seat of her car.
“Of course, you bring him. Dammit, Hannah, don’t you see? Skeeter’s what’s keeping me from burying myself in you so deep neither one of us would come up for air for hours. Yes, I’ll still work with him, I’ll teach him, but you need a good man to be a father to him and a husband to you. That man sure as fuck ain’t me.” Cooper remembered the other thing that had yanked him away from Hannah’s tempting lips. “Now, ’scuse me. I need to get back inside because there’s a girl I barely know waiting on me to fuck her. And I’m gonna, then say goodbye and hope I never see her again. That’s the kind of guy I am, Hannah. You need to remember that.”
She pursed her lips and shook her head. “No. That’s the kind you think you are, but you’re not. Not really.”
Cooper let out a breath. “Woman, you need to believe a man when he tells you the truth.”
“When you do, I will.”

Now, she decided to grow a backbone.
Buy Now at AMAZON    BN    ARE

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NEW RELEASE Saved by a SEAL (Hot SEALs) Cat Johnson

SAVED BY A SEAL (HOT SEALs) by NY Times Bestseller Cat Johnson
Bad boy Zane Alexander traded his family's wealth for a Navy SEAL trident. Now he needs his father's millions but there is a condition. Zane has to date the Senator's daughter, Missy, and pretend to like it. But when Missy is kidnapped and Zane's team must save her, the danger and his feelings turn very real.


Zane watched as Jon strode across the bar toward him.

“Good. You’re here.” Jon dumped a binder on the table.

The papers inside were heavy enough to make the beer in Zane’s pint slosh when it landed. Zane raised a brow as he picked up his glass. “Whatcha got there, bud?”

“That’s the completed business and marketing plan, all put together.” Jon pulled out a chair and sat. “Rick and Darci looked it over and then both Ali and I proofread it twice, so it should be ready to present to your father.”

Grateful he’d been left out of that incredibly boring stage of this project, Zane eyed the tome. “That’s all? Nothing else?”

Frowning, Jon flipped open the front cover of the binder. “I think so. Brody’s artwork for the logo is in there, along with a complete company branding section. I also cited and included all the materials I used for research to back up the idea. You know, as proof there’s a need for this kind of operation—” Jon glanced up, scowling as his shoulders slumped. “You’re fucking with me.”

“I am.” Amused that Jon had finally figured it out, Zane raised his glass in a toast to his gullible friend. Apparently Jon was a little slow in detecting sarcasm.

Zane took a swallow of the brew that was already getting warm. He’d arrived early for this meeting with his current teammate and soon-to-be business partner.

Truth be told, he’d needed the drink. Zane had faced the enemy with less trepidation than he felt now on the way to see his father. . . and the enemy had been carrying automatic weapons with the intent of killing him.

His father utilized weapons that were more subtle than machine guns and explosives, but no less destructive. Zane should know. He’d been dodging his father’s verbal shots for as long as he could remember.

He still had yet to figure out how his mother, bless her heart, had survived this long married to his father. By keeping her head down and remaining below the radar, most likely, while Zane had a tendency to get right in his father’s face. Or he had until that day he announced he was joining the Navy and walked out with nothing but what fit in his bag.

Thank God for the trust fund his maternal grandfather had set up. Zane’s father could—and had—cut him off from the family’s wealth and support, but even he didn’t have the power to take away the trust fund in his name or the monthly allowance it yielded him.

Not that Zane’s expenses were huge—living in the bachelor barracks when not deployed was cheap—but Zane did like having nice things. Big trucks. Fast cars. Hot women. That all took a good amount of cash. More than he made from his military pay, so the check was surely welcome when it appeared in his account each month.

“Do you want to take a look at what I put together?” Jon looked a little disappointed, almost crestfallen that Zane hadn’t jumped to devour the binder page-by-page.

Even with the kickass winged anchor logo and company name they’d come up with on the front of it, the binder looked too much like the schoolwork he’d always hated.

Though he supposed he would need to review the material before he met with his father later that day, it could wait.

“I will. Later.” Procrastination was one of the many things Zane excelled at.

He took another sip of his beer and ignored the book Jon had nudged toward him. He’d be drinking whisky if he didn’t have to get behind the wheel and leave for his drive to the capital region in an hour or so.

When Jon looked ready to crawl out of his skin, Zane decided to relieve his friend’s pain. “Look, Jon. I know you, and you are incapable of giving less than one hundred percent to anything you do. I trust you that everything I’ll need is in that thing, plus some. But the truth is, it doesn’t matter what’s in your plan. My father is going to give us the money for this company.”

Jon pursed his lips. “I wish I could be so sure.”

“You can be. Trust me. When my father sees I’m willing to leave the Navy for this, he’ll jump on investing as much money as we need.”

GAPS—Guardian Angel Protection Services—was Jon’s brainchild and it was a great idea. A company comprised of a group of men with the best training the Naval Special Warfare Development Group had to offer. As combat-seasoned SEAL operatives, they would be experienced experts-for-hire at a time when precision security was a growing need in so many areas across the globe.

With their friends and former teammates Chris and Rick already out, and with Jon and Zane’s current contracts about to expire, they had a four-man team to staff GAPS out of the gate with the promise of more of their teammates joining them in a few years, if they could make a go of it.

Zane traced the tip of one finger over the letters of their tagline printed on the paper slipped beneath the clear plastic front of the binder.

We cover your six when God’s too busy.

Was he covering his friend’s six now or leading them down a path of fruitless hope?

Nothing was certain when it came to his father. Well, nothing except the fact that the one thing George Zane Alexander the second could never get over was his son joining the Navy against his wishes. And Zane didn’t stop there. He’d taken it one step further by trying out for the SEALs. Then, as soon as he’d proven himself, he went for DEVGRU’s Green Team training and selection—the infamous Seal Team Six the media liked to shout about.

Even if those actually in the elite unit didn’t like or want the fame the media had thrust upon them after the Bin Laden raid, Zane was indeed among the best of the best, in spite of his old man’s wishes. The problem was that once he’d reached the top, there was nowhere left to go to piss off his father.

Zane saw Jon’s vision for GAPS as the right opportunity at the right time.

To be able to take their skills and use them as they saw fit and be their own bosses—it was tempting. A dream come true.

Of course, that was only if Zane got through this meeting with good old George without taking a swing at the man, which is what had happened the last Christmas he’d tried going home to play at being a happy family. You don’t talk bad about the troops or make disparaging remarks about the war to a man who’d watched friends get blown up. Zane clenched his jaw and pocketed the anger.

Get it in eBook and Paperback Now!
Look for Jon's story, Night with a SEAL (Hot SEALs), available now in eBook, Print & Audio 

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Wild Marauders MC Teaser

WARNING, explicit language. This is from Lynch's point of view - unedited excerpt. I should have a release date soon.

I was sitting at a table close to the bar with Lenny, Wizard and Yank, discussing their run the night before, and trying to keep Kat, and her sexy fuckin' curves out of my mind. I should have fucked her instead of walking away, Christ, my cock was still hard, but I'd wanted to show her that she wasn't going to control me by giving me her body. I did things my way, and in my own good time. I might want her like fuck but I was just strong enough, and mean enough, to deny myself.

Yeah, I was a real bastard.

Yank, my treasurer, had just confirmed the payoff we'd received was the full ten grand as promised. I had a strict rule that once the goods were delivered and we were handed the payoff that we got the fuck out of there, not counting the money until we were back at the compound. Never could tell if the cops or feds had been tipped off and were on their way to the area, or already waiting to make the jump on us. Usually when that happened they didn’t make their presence known until the deal was done. Besides, I knew if the money came up short, we would get it one way or another, later.

“Good payoff for a short haul,” Yank said, leaning back in his chair.

“The best kind,” Wizard agreed, reaching for his beer.

“The next run won’t be as close, or as easy.” I downed my beer and held up the empty glass. Almost immediately one of the club's sweet butts, a tired looking brunette with too much makeup on and not enough clothes hurried over with a replacement. I ignored her blatant attempt to catch my interest. “What’s the total in the safe?”

Yank didn’t hesitate. “Forty-seven grand.”

I nodded, satisfied. “Make sure our affiliates in town get their cut, pay the brothers, and give Poker’s widow a couple grand.” I didn’t need to ask Yank what would be left. I knew right down to the last penny, and I trusted Yank with the clubs money.

“Poker was a loyal brother.” A moment of silence followed Lenny’s comment as each remembered the fallen brother in their own way. “To Poker,” he followed up, raising his drink. The rest of us did the same.

A shrill whistle echoed through the bar, followed by several unintelligible remarks that were meant as a compliment for the recipient in a crude biker’s way. I watched Tank’s eyes grow round, Ripper’s jaw drop, his beer paused in mid-air on the way up to his bearded mouth, and Fat Boy slap his beefy hand over his heart, before I turned to see what the fuckin' fuss was about. I released a hiss, my gaze falling on where Kat was standing in the entrance way to the room, no doubt looking for me.

My dick stood to attention, remembering what it felt like being squeezed by her tight cunt. The clothes I’d picked up for her outlined her lush curves, revealing that she was a delicious handful. Most of her shapely legs were bare, as was her midriff and one shoulder where the top had slipped down. I grinned, noticing she’d used the lip gloss I’d provided. It had been a last minute purchase and my cock jerked at the thought of having those full shiny lips close over it. I wondered if she knew how fucking sexy she was. Her gaze finally landed on me and she began to make her way in our direction, ignoring the crude remarks and looks of the other men.

“Where do you want me?” She was looking down at me. Her innocent question drew loud laughs from my surrounding brothers.

Tory Richards

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What Do Lesbians Do In Bed?

Have you ever wondered what lesbians do when they get together? Is it all fingers and scissors and lips between legs, or is there WAY more to the slippery story of lesbian sex?

In this hot new anthology, enjoy twenty-one explicit tales of lesbian love. From shoe fetish to opera gloves, sex in public to quiet winter mornings, from a taste of taboo to strap-on DP to extremes that shan’t be mentioned here to full-on Sapphic bukakke, even connoisseurs of fine girl-on-girl action are likely to discover a new idea or two in this sexy new collection.

Whether you can appreciate this book’s title ironically or you’re authentically curious about what girls who love girls do in bed (or in parked cars or at the office or in a church basement or in a restaurant bathroom), grab a copy today and get in on the nitty-gritty secrets of lesbian sex.

Giselle Renarde’s erotic fiction has appeared in over 100 anthologies, including prestigious collections like Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Lesbian Romance, Best Women’s Erotica, Girl Fever, and the Lambda Award-winning collection Wild Girls, Wild Nights.

Excerpt from "What Do Lesbians Do In Bed?":

From The Customer’s Waiting:

I rushed to the back staircase and popped two buttons on my blouse. Nobody else worked in the basement. Just Levy. No one else would see.

In my wedge heels, I had to be careful walking down those slatted metal stairs. It really was scary in the basement. Everything was either concrete or metal, and the only sign of life came from Levy’s blaring headphones. She obviously hadn’t noticed me yet, and I gripped the metal railing, just watching her work.

There was something about dykes who looked like truck drivers that really turned me on. That was Levy’s style—dark blue pants like mechanics wore, and an unbuttoned short-sleeve shirt over a tank top. Her sandy hair was about shoulder-length, but she always wore it back in a ponytail, with a baseball cap that had a bulldog on it.

Just the sight of her made me tremble. I was so wet she could probably fist me in one go if she wanted to.

And that was the kicker: so far, she hadn’t expressed any interest in me. None. At all. Every shift, I dressed a little more femme—brighter lipstick, shorter skirt, higher heels. Anything to grab her attention.

When I finally worked up the courage to call her from the bottom of the stairs, she didn’t hear me. I crept toward her cage until I was close enough to weave my fingers through and shake it.

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