Raquel Y. Eldridge
A group of women come together for a Passion Party being thrown by Deirdre Gray, a stay-at-home mother of two, who earns part-time income by throwing parties in her basement-slash-sex toy boutique.
Deirdre’s Passion Parities consist of more than just food, spirits, and erotic paraphernalia…there are also party games, plenty of gossip, and secret sexual confessions. Deirdre’s parties get so scintillating and scandalous, guests have to sign confidentiality waivers in order to attend! It’s just that important that the things shared in confidence at these Passion Parties stay at the Passion Party!”
Delve into the erotic decadence that can be found when you mix the sexually experimental with the tantalizing toys for sale at one of Deirdre’s famously infamous Passion Parties.
Raquel lives in Houston, Texas where she works for a corporate IT company in Finance. She divides the rest of her time between working to complete multiple novel projects and being Communications Director for the women’s empowerment organization, HELP Sister Connect (www.helpsister.com).
She is also a contributing writer for several magazines and newspapers, a member of the NAACP Young Adult Committee (Houston Branch), and the Progressive Women’s Network of Houston.
She is the President and CEO of Prose Pros Publishing Company, under which she’s released her solo project Mixed Emotions and its soon-to-be-complete sequel, Tainted Relations. She has also co-authored two books with Shawnte’ Henderson of Toledo, OH, titled Where Friendship Lies and A Lover’s Deceit. They are currently working on the third and final installment of their collaborative series, The Best Revenge.
For more information on this author, please visit www.prose-pros.com.
EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE:
All I know is this man has been taking me for granted for the last eight years and it was getting old very fast.
I didn’t mind taking care of my kids, but he thought of me as his maid, cook, errand runner and periodic concubine. I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d made love with any sort of passion. It had become mechanical and unfeeling, much like everything else in our marriage.
My husband is a successful architect and he often had other businesses deliver blueprints and mock-ups of designs to the house, which was his office away from the office.
I’d changed the very last bed in the house and had settled onto the couch with remote in hand and an ice cold Diet Coke when the doorbell buzzed.
I sighed in frustration as I got up to answer it. The show was just getting to the good part of the particular soap opera I watched daily from eleven o’clock to noon.
I peeked out of the peephole and standing there was a dark chocolate hunk of a man in a standard issue, brown, UPS uniform. Something about the set of his shoulders, and the way the cuff of the short-sleeved shirt fit around his muscular biceps, told me he was a very well-built man beneath his outfit.
I didn’t realize I had gotten caught up in looking at his form until he rang the doorbell a second time. I stepped back from the door and said, “I’ll be there shortly, hold on.”
I ran to the mirror resting against the sofa table right by the entryway and checked my appearance. I looked presentable enough. I had on a pair of low-rise, snug denim shorts and a top that accentuated my robust cleavage. I silently thanked my children for giving me a nice set of breasts. On my feet were flip-flop slippers and my hair was up in a ponytail. My head encased in an orange and white bandana to keep the dust out of my hair while doing chores.
I inhaled a few times and pulled on the doorknob. When he looked up at me, I almost melted where I stood. He smiled a brilliantly vibrant grin, which only served to further light up his paper bag brown eyes.
