By Kitty Margo
Jerica Jordan Fontaine is a girl scorned. Being the daughter of the Voodoo Queen of Savannah, males haven't precisely been beating a route to her door through the years. on the ripe age of thirty one, while she eventually we could down her safeguard and permits the wall that has shielded her center for many of these thirty one years to disintegrate, she discovers that the guy she loves is not anything greater than a liar and a cheat? Who does she flip to whilst she feels the necessity for revenge? Why, her part sister, after all. Lavinia is particularly adept at laying curses and making things... take place. Or, because the pirate Sean Devereux can be tormented to discover... now not occur. **
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Additional info for A Pirate to Treasure (Descendants of Sea Grove, Book 1)
He wondered. The cheap perfume and baby powder, the trace of K-Y Jelly frosting my bunghole? Guilt led to frustration, frustration mounted to anger, anger spiraled into thoughts of revenge. But against whom? Stashed under the bed, his wife’s body was starting to smell pretty ripe… The first faggot he killed was Billie Goldfarb, a wispy little thing who frequented a club called The Manhole. Charlie took him to a no-tell joint off the highway. They showered together. Charlie let the kid lube his cock with cheap motel soap and suck on it.
They come to rest against the parapet’s crook looking like a pair of powdered figs. Gregor’s testicular stems tremble between his legs like antennae. The man who was once Jeremy Hanson falls to his knees. A last sense-memory—warm flesh on his tongue—zigzags across his mind a split-second before Byron buries the billhook in his neck… Edward Tonnere cowers beneath the seats while the battle rages. He does not hear Jackson Cantrell sneak up beside him, or see the sharpened piston-rod in the preacher’s hand.
You know how it is. ” For Charlie Henried it had started out with some harmless cross-dressing: Lace underwear and costume jewelry, an underwired bustier and six-inch stiletto heels. Innocent experimentation. Until one afternoon his wife found him wearing a plaid schoolgirl uniform with his hair in a sloppy ponytail, jacking off into a pair of her pantyhose. For Charlie—a tobacco-chewing, strip-bar frequenting man’s man—the sight of his wife’s disgusted accusation was too much to bear. He wrapped the come-soaked pantyhose around her neck and applied pressure until her face turned purple and blood squirted from places it had no business squirting from.