Available in Ebook

A Sweet Deal For Karen (MFM)
Hardwick Bay

By: Morgan Henry
Categories: Erotic Romance, Contemporary, Menage a Trois/Quatre
Heat Level: SEXTREME
Published By: Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Ménage Amour: Erotic Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/M

Karen Winsor loves her candy store and works hard to keep it successful. Her family is less than impressed with Karen’s Kandies and keeps pushing her to “get a real job.” But Karen can’t imagine working in a big city for a corporation, even if it would be more financially secure.
Allan March and Zander Winters have fallen for the voluptuous Karen. But her focus on ensuring her store continues to be successful leaves her with no time for the sexy duo. Or so she says. When Karen is injured the two men do their best to make sure Karen realizes there is time for love.
But when there is a disaster at the store, will Karen abandon the men and Hardwick Bay for the security of a corporate career?

STORY EXCERPT

Mary answered the door. “Oh my God, let me take something!” she exclaimed, reaching for the pie balanced in Karen’s hand. She removed it, allowing Karen to shift one of the boxes of chocolates from her other hand.
“Thanks. I guess I should have made two trips,” Karen as she stepped into the house and immediately removed her shoes.
“It’s really good to see you,” Mary said warmly. She put her arm around Karen’s shoulders. “I’ve made a huge mistake in not talking to you more often.”
Karen couldn’t speak for a moment. Was that a glimmer of tears in Mary’s eyes? She must be mistaken.
“Um, well, I could be calling you more often, too, I guess,” she finally said lamely.
They walked into the great room together.
“Karen brought this amazing smelling pie,” Mary informed the group cheerily as she waved the dish in the air.
No one got up to greet her.
“That’s nice, dear,” her mother said from her chair by the unlit fireplace, a glass of doubtlessly expensive red wine in her hand. “Where did you get it?”
“I made it. A friend gave me some rhubarb from her garden this morning, so it’s as fresh as can be.”
“Well, that’s being frugal. Of course, you’d be good at that.” Bob, Mary’s fiancée, gave her one of his typically backhanded compliments.
Ah, Bob was here. Boring Bob. He went well with the boring garden, boring décor, and what was sure to be a boring dinner.
Karen stood at the entrance to the room as Mary took the pie into the kitchen. “I brought boxes of chocolates for you as well,” she said, holding out her gifts like a child knowing her handmade card wasn’t as nice as the version from Hallmark but hoping it was appreciated.
“Homemade gifts. You always did like homemade things, Karen.” Her father was lounging on the sofa with his feet up on the ottoman, a glass of what was probably whiskey by his side. He had a book open on his lap that appeared to be a textbook of some sort.
At the silence from the rest of the room, the familiar feeling of you’re not nearly good enough from childhood sucked her into its all-consuming whirlpool.
“I guess I always appreciated the effort that people put into them,” Karen responded, her tone and words carefully neutral, concealing the little stab of hurt she should have expected.
“I’ll just put these in the kitchen then.” She placed them on the little used spot by the phone on the back counter.
“Well, I appreciate them,” Mary stated firmly. “Who’s enough of a fool to turn their nose up at specialty chocolates?”
She walked over to the boxes. “Is one specifically for Mom, or does it matter?”
Karen stared at this person who was pretending to be her sister. Had she started taking happy pills or what? Had the pole been surgically removed from her ass?
“Um, no, take whatever one you want.”
Mary grabbed the one with orange and green ribbon that Karen had tied without thinking of her family’s preference for bland. The other was tied with pale yellow and white. Mary opened the package and inspected the contents.
“Hey, you even have a map!” she exclaimed, looking at the guide that Karen had printed with pictures of her chocolates and their flavors.
“You’ll spoil your dinner if you eat too many chocolates, surely,” piped up boring Bob from his position at the other end of the couch from Karen’s father.
“Oh, one won’t kill me,” Mary said, her hand waving in complete dismissal as she pored over the map and contents of the box.
“Karen certainly seems to be alive, and of a, um, healthy size. And we haven’t heard that you’ve poisoned anyone yet,” her mother noted helpfully, giving a little laugh that was meant to take the sting out of a sarcastic comment, but yet never really did.
“Nope, not yet.”
Though Karen was starting to wonder if there was any rat poison she could sprinkle on her dinner. A quick trip to the hospital for food poisoning was looking more inviting than this.
“Help yourself to some wine. Dinner won’t be too long.” LeeAnn went back to reading the journal she had in her lap.
Karen stayed in the kitchen.
“I’m assuming you’re cooking,” she said to her sister. “Do you want any help?”
“It’s okay. I’ve got it under control. Why don’t you sit down and chat while I get the broccoli started and toss the salad? I opened some white wine, do you want a glass?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
White wine was a scarcity around the Winsor’s. Her parents only drank red and didn’t bother to stock anything else for their guests. Mary must have brought it.
Mary set a generous glass of wine in front of Karen.
“So, have you two set a date yet?” Karen asked cautiously.
“No.” Mary stabbed the salad tongs forcefully into the salad. She tossed the greens vigorously for a few moments. “We haven’t.”
Okay. New topic needed.
“How’s work?” Karen asked, trying again for a safe topic.
Mary was a CPA in a big firm in Toronto. Very busy, lots of responsibility, a big-money type position.
“Fine.” More violent stabbing of helpless baby spinach.
Okay, no help there.
“Is Sammy well?”
Sammy was Mary’s cat. They had all been shocked when Mary had brought home a little orange tabby to her pristine condo. Mary loved the little rascal who turned out to have a big personality in a tiny body.
Mary stopped torturing the salad. “He’s great. He’s so cuddly and he still plays fetch with the paper balls.”
She leaned over to Karen and lowered her voice. “He pissed in Bob’s shoes the other day, though. I sent them out to be cleaned, but I haven’t told him yet. I’m hoping he won’t notice.”
Karen opened her mouth but nothing came out. Holy crap, who the hell was this woman across from her? It sure as hell wasn’t her sister, the woman who normally couldn’t unbend far enough to tie her shoes. She glanced over to the living room at the silent trio lost in their own pursuits. The urge to start laughing like a deranged hyena bubbled up insider her and she managed to quell it with great difficulty.
Story Excerpt for The Baroness:

Lady Aenid enjoyed the fragrance of the healthy plants in her large medicinal garden. A light breeze dissipated the late summer heat and ruffled the hairs that had slipped out of her braid. She clipped several buds from the stratha plant and added them to her basket. The little buds were essential in the restoring tea for women who had undergone a difficult birth. She moved on to the next section and began pulling the few weeds that had sprung up. Though the head gardener of the demesne—the land directly supporting the manor house—oversaw her medicinal garden personally, Aenid loved finding time to tend the garden herself. Aenid found a great deal of peace in working in the soil and watching the plants mature.
The estate was the home of her father, the baron of Clawynd. His lands extended for miles around, bordered by the foothills of the East Dyfal Mountains and three other noble seats. It was a small holding in the kingdom of Kerban, but it was relatively wealthy due to the mines and rich farmland. Her father managed it well. He was fair and just with his people and they prospered because of it. They were also very loyal to him.
The house itself, Duth Clawynd, was a huge manor house. She knew it was not nearly as impressive as the castles that were the homes of other nobles, but she loved its less military appearance. It had hundreds of rooms and was home and work for dozens of servants. It was an imposing structure when viewed from the front. Rising several stories, it had a central hall with a wing off each side, and square turrets rose at each corner. The gravel laneway led from the road to the shallow valley of the estate and circled a statue of the goddess with a garden.
Aenid thought it was a little extravagant for a family of two, but it was their ancestral home. In the past the families of Clawynd had been larger. Baron Jero de Barden, her father, had not been blessed with many children. Aenid’s mother had died birthing her second child, who had passed on within days of his mother. Aenid was only seven at the time, and had not come into her powers as a healer. Her father had loved her mother dearly and despite the pressure to remarry, had not done so. He lavished his love upon his daughter and raised her to know her duty to the people of their land and ensured she had the training and skills to be an excellent Baroness.
In the kingdom of Kerban both men and women could inherit noble seats. Generally it was the firstborn male that took the title but if there was no boy child, the firstborn daughter inherited. So, Aenid would be Baroness and her husband, if she chose to marry, would be Baron. The rule of the seat would be hers, however.
Though Aenid would be Baroness by right of lineage, her father always impressed upon her the need for excellence. He told her that though women could inherit, it happened infrequently enough that she would be constantly challenged. She would have to be a better Baroness than any other noble in the kingdom. The estate must be well managed, her people loyal and well cared for, the border with Torquin guarded and her soldiers well trained, her holding justly administered, never late with her taxes, and she must keep abreast of all the king’s council details and scheming of the rest of the nobles. It was a daunting task for any noble in the kingdom.
She already oversaw the management of the home and demesne. Her father ensured she was included in or informed of all decisions regarding the running of the seat. This involved the supervision of lands and tenants, taxes, administration of justice, and the health and welfare of their people. She knew much about the king’s council, but rarely went to court. Her father’s retirement from active court life limited the amount of time she spent in Kerfaen.
She heard the sound of hooves on the gravel of the lane to the manor. She stood and walked over to see who was approaching. She wondered if it was the hunting party. Lord Merrin, the King’s Champion and a friend of her father’s from his days at court, had brought several young knights for a visit.
Aenid could admit to herself that she found Lord Merrin very attractive and she was drawn to him in ways she had never before experienced. He had a scar that cut across his face from his temple, over his left eye and down his cheek a little ways. For some reason, Aenid thought the scar only make him more striking. With the healing powers available in Kerban, scars like his were rare. He had mid-length black hair that was brushed back from a strong forehead. His eyes were a clear blue, and he had a strong chin that he appeared to keep free of stubble. His mouth was generous, with the slight lines at the side that come with laughter. He was a large man. He towered over her and had the muscles to fill out his frame. His shoulders were wide and upper body strong from fighting, and his legs were powerful from all his riding. For all his strength, Aenid felt that he could be very gentle when the occasion called for it.
By all accounts, Merrin was intelligent, well educated, and honorable. He was also a reasonably strong mage, able to cast mid-level spells. He had strong mental shields, a basic necessity of anyone who was able to wield kerfios beyond a basic level. Her father liked him. She suspected that the knights he brought with him were supposed to be eligible suitors for her—young, handsome, and of lower rank than her. None of them compared to Merrin in her eyes.
The approaching group did appear to be the hunting party that had set off early in the morning. It was odd they were travelling so slowly. And they seemed quiet. Even if the hunt had been less than successful, there would normally be some banter between the men.
Aenid stepped toward the lane, intending to greet her father. One of the men in the group caught sight of her and urged his mount faster. The horse jogged toward her. As it approached, she could see that it was Lord Merrin.