ISBN: 1-60054-084-8
This amazing cover was created by Ron O and myself
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What happens when a whore hooks up with the wrong john?  What happens when he murders her?  You'd think she'd die; there'd be an investigation that went nowhere and that'd be the end of it, right?  Wrong! 

Roses Have Thorns

The tall, sultry blonde swaggered into the bar after standing at the doorway, checking out the clientele.  The overweight, construction workers, drinking too much beer, talking just a little too loud, and the two suits who sat at the bar sipping whiskey and looking very much at home slumming it.  Her quarry wasn't there, so she took a stool at the far end of the bar.  A gin and tonic later, she watched him enter, scan the large dimly lit room and settle into his customary seat near the exit. 

She waited, and watched, until the bar was nearly empty before approaching him.  It was a long, excruciatingly sweet, wait.

Her drink finished, she pushed it aside and got to her feet.  Walking across the room, it was hard not to rush, but that would have ruined her surprise.  Standing across the table from him, she pasted a smile on her face.  "Hey, buy a lady a drink?" she said, the rush of adrenaline made her heart race and her voice sounded thick.

The man named Clifford looked up, obviously surprised to find a real looker standing by his table.  Over the course of the evening, she'd watched him consume enough alcohol to make focusing a challenge.  But she knew she was worth it and so would he.  Her tits alone were worth it.  She'd always thought they were her best asset.  As his gaze drifted down over her body, the rest of the package must have firmed up by the way he blinked stupidly.  The tight black velvet dress held her curves snugly, but not too snugly.  Low-cut and long sleeved, it ended just above her knees and gave her a look of sophistication that was uncommon in this part of town.  The heels looked lethal; sharp tipped and at least four inches high, stilettos.

"Uh, yeah," he croaked, cleared his throat and tried again.  "Yeah, sit down.  Uh, what'll you have?"

She sat across from the bleary-eyed drunk and smiled at how easily she'd made contact.  He didn't look nearly as big as she remembered, but the receding hairline and that scar on his cheek were forever burned into her memory.  The blue denim shirt was different and he didn't have a jacket on, but he wore jeans just like the last time she'd seen him.

"Gin and tonic," she replied easily and leaned forward on her elbows, offering him a view of her breasts and the deep cleavage separating them.

His eyes fixed on those large mounds, his mouth sagged open.  She let him look, enjoying his drunken stare and the feeling of power growing inside her.  A waitress approached and in a tired voice asked, 'What'll it be?"

Tearing his eyes from her chest, Clifford slurred an answered, "Gin and tonic for the lady and another one of these."  He lifted his glass and drained the last dregs.  Holding the empty up, he said, "Put it on my tab."

The girl took his glass, nodded and turned away.  Moments later, she returned with their drinks.

"What's your name, sweet cheeks?" he asked a fresh glass in hand.

"Rose."  She cocked her head to the side and asked, "Yours?"  Her glass sat in front of her, untouched.  Her mind raced, reminding her to take it slow, not to fuck up and scare him off.  He'd nibbled at the bait; all she had to do was take it slow and set the hook.

"Clifford," he slurred.  "My friends call me Cliff."  He rested his elbow on the table and leaned his chin into his palm, gazing at her.

"Well Cliff, I think we're going to be special friends.  I've been watching you."  She took a small sip of her drink and waited for him to respond.

She watched him trying to get through the alcoholic haze.  It took some seconds, but he finally must have realized what she'd said.  He blinked again and gaped, then replied, "You been watching me, how come?"

"You remind me of someone, someone very special."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, and I think you should finish your drink so we can go somewhere private.  Somewhere I can show you what I mean by special."  Rose leaned forward again, giving him another look at her breasts.  Her pussy clenched, excitement making her flush and the jagged thorns inside scraping the delicate tissue.  Come on swallow the bait.

Clifford's jaw dropped, but he recovered a moment later.  He lifted his glass and drained its contents.  Done, he slammed it on the table and lurched to his feet.  Holding onto the back of his chair, he extended his hand, "Okay, Rose, where'd you like to go, my place or yours?"

"Mine," she answered, and knew she had him.

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 Phew, it's suddenly a lot warmer in here.   Roses Have Thorns is available now from loveyoudivine