A sizzling red hot and very funny erotic romance series starring the spunky heroine Sydney Wilde, presents Book 1- ‘Sole Obsession’. This is the perfect easy pool read book, complete with suspense and comedy, and topped with a large serving of indulgent sexy scenarios. The storyline follows a frustrated woman looking for love, all the while unaware she is the sole obsession of a predator who is determined they shall be together. The Wilde Horses are her group of friends, all sexually confident and happy to share their skills and passion. You will certainly recognize at least one person you know among these characters, if you don’t recognize yourself. The book will thrill, excite, and make you laugh out loud as well as look over your shoulder more often. Enjoy the journey and look for the next in the series, Book 2-‘ Evangeline,Miss Match’… AKA ‘The Online Date Killer’ coming soon!
Pam Stanley is a Southern California transplant to Kansas City, and if you are in a great pub or night-life place there, he or she is probably standing right near you watching for you to do something funny or ridiculous so a good story comes out of it. When not writing, Pam is tossing back beers with friends, running for miles, or taking in any of the fantastic live sports and music Kansas City has to offer. Most of Pam’s friends don’t even know who Pam Stanley actually is. Do you?
READ ON FOR EXCERPTS AND TO ENTER THE GIVEAWAY!
Some of the men were starting to get drawn to Isis’s mountain range. Her breasts were enormous and evidently her doctor had made her sign a contract promising she would never cover his masterpieces. Sydney had not once seen her buxom friend without deeply plunging necklines and some minute amount of clingy, chokingly restrictive fabric restraining her breasts from their obvious mission of escaping to unfettered pastures where they could bobble freely. Sydney was far more familiar with Isis’s breast geography than she really felt she needed to be, and after years of unconscious up close scrutiny and way too much sheer clothing on Isis’s part, she remained convinced that the doctor had misaligned Isis’s left nipple just a tad to the left. Sydney’s left that is. The symmetry was just ever so slightly off. It was sort of like having one nipple looking directly at her, while the other stared off over Sydney’s shoulder. It could be a little disconcerting after enough tequila. Sydney would find herself looking over her shoulder as well, just to see what the nipple was staring at so intently.
Even exercising, Isis had managed to find sports bras that enhanced her mammaries as opposed to Sydney who always seemed to have a mono-boob. A sweaty mono-boob. Isis’s breasts never appeared anything but pristine and inviting, like two ripe, round, firm melons just inviting someone to bite them. Sydney, on the other hand, would have sweat start at the collarbone and rush like a river in between her two squashed and droopy fun sacks. The sweat collected at the base of her running bra and then somehow the extra found its way up around each areola so that after running Sydney looked like she had two gigantic drink coasters outlining the front of each boob. She never felt sexier. Not so much.
How Isis’s inflatables could still lift and separate, seemingly buoyant, while Sydney’s melded into one sweaty, mashed, fatty mass with two nipples pointing whichever way grabbed their fancy always amazed her. Isis mentioned occasionally that she would be happy to refer her surgeon to her, but Sydney had a fundamental fear of undergoing general anesthesia in order to gain accoutrements. Instead, she relied on $ 50 bras from Victoria’s Secret which made her boobs look nice and fake. The only downside being if she ever had to take her bra off with a man who had fallen in love with her for her breasts, he might be in for a rude shock.
Everything on Jenny sagged. Naked in front of the mirror, she thought looked like a cover model for National Geographic. The tribal series. After nourishing two children, Jenny’s breasts resembled twin tube socks with a tangerine stuffed in each toe. A tangerine with absurdly large nipples, and more areola than was necessary. And that belly fat had never gone away. In fact, there was so much loose skin and flub on Jenny’s tummy that she could envision cutting her pooch open and sticking a baby kangaroo in there.
Maybe she could be a surrogate Roo mommy. Jenny didn’t know how well that might pay, but Ted was late with the child support more often than not and her high school diploma and ten years of no professional work experience did not make her easily employable. She and her former husband had owned a small business together, for which he kept all the financial information and records. When it had come time to divulge the assets in front of the judge, suddenly the business appeared far less profitable than Jenny remembered. Add to that the sudden disappearance of over 100k from their company account and Jenny’s assets became slim.
She had thought the judge would make Ted repay half the missing money to her, but while sympathetic, the judge said her own hands were tied as he had pulled the money out before filing for divorce. There was no trace of it. The resulting alimony and child support was just enough to get Jenny, Ritchie, and Beth by, if they were careful.
Until Ted’s payments were formally being pulled out of his paycheck automatically, he was responsible for cutting her checks himself on the 1st and 15th of every month. He used it as just another opportunity to make her feel worthless and hold over her that he held the upper hand, even in divorce.
She was hoping a run would help clear her head and empower her somewhat. She had felt substantially better since she began the marathon training, she wasn’t lighter in weight necessarily, but she was tighter just about everywhere, even her personal Kangaroo-Bjorn was getting smaller. It was almost to where she’d have to reconsider roos and downsize to koalas.
She didn’t mind that she was going to have to start her 20 miler solo, there was a portion of trail that wound through some forest and cut over to the main trek where she could meet up with the other runners. It was rarely run on during this time of the weekend, the running groups all favored the wider path where the trees were less dense and it was easier to carry in water tables and first aid supplies for the training athletes. She wasn’t going to have to contend with much cutting over, she might even get a good pace going. It could possibly be her best run to date!
It was not until Jenny awoke in the hospital later that afternoon, bruised and broken, that she realized Ted was a rank amateur when it came to torture and humiliation. And apparently, even the Devil had taken up running.
Sydney Wilde really needed to get back to the business of killing people, but she was having a hard time getting motivated. In spite of her high profile success, she was stuck. She tried to focus, took a big mouthful of her bottled beer and let the cold bubbles stream down her throat to inspire her. She was determined to get a few damn ideas down on paper before meeting Isis for Happy Hour. She truly didn’t even care if they made sense or were gibberish; she just needed to break through this funk!
She ruminated out loud as if that was going to help, ‘Maybe I could stab him to immobilize him, and then kill him slowly with…..’ There she drew a blank. She had sort of already used her bag of tricks on her other murders. It was getting harder and harder to do this creatively. Sydney had a reputation to protect and killing someone half-assed at this point would alienate her diehard fans.
Isis, for sure, was going to ask her if she had made any progress in figuring out her next move. She was Sydney’s self-appointed life coach. Isis’s birth name was Isosceles. Isosceles figured she had overcome enough in life to become a life coach, although she had not actually taken any courses. She had sat halfway through an online seminar about becoming a life coach and learned so much that she had decided to start applying her new skill immediately. She was a natural…according to her own self-assessment.
Sydney had only asked her once about why she had been named ‘Isosceles’. Apparently Isis’s parents challenged themselves to have the most sophisticated name they could for their precious baby girl. They thought Isosceles was a Greekgoddess, and that suited them just fine. Her kin pronounced her name, ‘Isoseclese’, quickly the little girl was referred to as just ‘Isis’, unless home for family reunions which she kept as infrequent as possible. She had a cousin named ‘Limoncello’, so Isis knew it could have gone much worse for her. She had spun her own reality, referring to herself as ‘Isis, the new Xena’. It was due to her ability to deal with this as well as the excellent training she had received from half an informational video that empowered Isis to be a great life coach.
Sydney had fan mail collecting dust. She had promised her agent that this time she would sort through and respond to each one personally. Normally, her mom volunteered for fan mail detail and Sydney willingly delegated it to her. It gave her mom a kick to see how popular and successful her little girl had become, even if it seemed ghoulish at times. Psychologists had a blast publicly defining why she did what she did. It didn’t bother Sydney too much although it seemed intrusive; publicity was publicity, and Mungo had a hungry horde depending on his 15% or however much he was bilking from her skill-set. Maybe she could pawn mail duty off to her mom on the sly, Mungo would never know. Ever since her mom’s breakdown over Oprah’s show ending a few years before, Sydney had been careful to make her feel needed. She could remember it like it were yesterday and it had clearly illustrated that her Mom still needed more help than Sydney could even realize.
. ‘A cat must do what a cat must do. Only a cat may define the characteristics of a cat. And, this cat drinks Chardonnay.’
Freddie had been affected by reading that passage unlike anything else he had ever read. He knew authors used analogies for symbolism, but never before had he gotten a literary message so clearly. He identified with the cat completely.
He was Egbert and the world was his Anna.
Mother had always told him he was different and that he was special. In that very moment, the first time he had read Sydney’s words, Freddie finally felt clarity an understanding about who he was.
Like Egbert, he was so much further evolved than everyone else. He had lapped those around him.
The obvious derivative of that truth was that he had lapped Mother too. He was smarter and better than she, but he kept that to himself. Although Mother’s lithium pills kept her formerly wildly unpredictable mood swings more to a comfortable monotone, she didn’t always take them. He thought she might purposely skip her meds occasionally, she said she didn’t like how they made her feel…or didn’t feel. She would claim forgetfulness, but he suspected intent in missing them. It made it very difficult to predict her behavior or reactions to him and when Mother was truly angry, it scared Freddie. He knew from the past incidences that she was capable of anything, being old and decrepit hadn’t done much to contain her willfulness. It was best he kept insight like his superiority over her to himself.
As he thought about his Sydney, calm returned to him during the flight. He needed to let go of the frustration he was feeling from his brief Los Angeles trip. The experiences there had taken him away from his comfort area, and he was relieved to be returning to the sanity of Kansas City. He relaxed himself with further thought about Sydney the rest of the way there and his plans to be united with her.