Sunday, June 8, 2014

Boy in a Band (A Morgan Mallory Story)


MATURE CONTENT language, sex, drugs, rock and roll

Morgan Mallory meets beautiful, sexy, blond haired, blue eyed, Mathew O'Conner, a singer in a rock band, when she's just a teen. Her instant physical attraction to him completely unnerves her. Their convoluted relationship transcends years, and even when she knows it would be best to stay away from him she can't seem to stop herself. What is it about the bad boy she seems to love? 

An edgy coming of age novel that is erotic, entertaining, and deeply moving. The characters will seize you and stay with you long after the read is finished. Not your predictable Cinderella story



lisa loomis - cowboy cover2


MATURE CONTENT language, sex 

Morgan Mallory’s choices haven’t always been good ones. The day she steals her boyfriend’s car, in an act of revenge, turns out to be one of her worst. The event sets in motion her realization that something big has got to change. Despite her strength and sassiness she’s at a crossroad, struggling to understand herself, her relationships, and the meaning of love. 

Ryan, a local mild mannered urban cowboy type, befriends her. As he deals with finding his own way in life an unconventional friendship develops. The twisting, turning path they go down together will forever change Morgan’s life. 

This is not a western romance novel but a contemporary modern day romance which includes the untidiness of the human condition. 

Standalone or sequel to "BOY IN A BAND


BOY IN A BAND excerpts:

I felt a tingling between my legs, a sensation he could easily make me feel.
My hips almost of their own will pressed towards his body. He squeezed my
ass, pulling me to him. I could feel his body, his lips, his tongue, a
complete sensory overload and wondered again how he could make me feel this
every time he touched me. Gayle flashed through my mind. ³What magical hold
does he have on you?² she¹d asked more than once in anger.

³I think you made him up,² Gayle said, referring to Mathew.
            ³Shut up, you know I haven¹t.²
            I envisioned his face and felt my heart jump a little.
            ³How? I¹ve yet to meet him. You have no pictures of him. Maybe
he¹s your imaginary secret friend,² she teased.
            She was lying in the grass next to me in my backyard as we
looked up at the sky and drew pictures in the clouds.
            ³It looks like a tree. See the branches there, and the trunk?² I
said, pointing to the big puffy cloud above us.
³I see a clown with sad eyes.²
            ³Not in the tree?²
            ³No, there. See the face and Bozo-like hair? The sad eyes are
I watched as my tree turned into a clown when you looked at it a different
way. I loved these afternoons.

I walked down to the water's edge, enthralled with the sunset, watching as
the sun, like a big round fireball, slowly sank into the ocean. A small
amount of haze, or smog, reflected the light just so to create a thin layer
above the water, all red and purple and orange. It spread as far as you
could see in both directions. It was so beautiful.
³Pretty,² Mathew said, coming up behind me.
            He was close enough I could feel the electricity between us. I
breathed in deeply. Why did I never tire of that smell?
³Thank you,² I said.
            ³I meant the sunset, but you too,² he chuckled.

     He didn¹t let me finish. Instead, he pushed me up against the door and
kissed me hard.
            ³What are you doing?² I mumbled.
He kissed me harder, pushing his tongue into my mouth, pinning me against
the door. He was pressing into me so hard it was tough to breath. I relaxed
a bit, and he eased up. The circumstances, not the kiss, were what confused
me. I could feel his chest warm against me, and he ground his pelvis into
mine. I should be angry. What was he thinking? Where was Kim? All this
flashed fleetingly through my head.
Logically this should have stopped me, but it didn¹t. My body responded to
his like some out of control machine. It was on fire.

He was leaning against the wall, wearing loud clothes he¹d started to love‹I
smiled at his paisley button-down shirt and white shorts. Tan, with his
blond hair longer, he looked wonderful. I wasn¹t sure what to expect. I had
told myself not to expect too much, not be disappointed.
My heart thumped in my chest and butterflies filled my stomach, and I wanted
to race into his arms, but held back. When he saw me a big smile spread
across his face. He didn¹t move from his position against the wall, instead
waited for me to reach him. I filed along with the exiting crowd.
³Hey, kid,² he said pushing off of the wall when I reached him, grabbing me
up in a hug. ³I¹ve missed you.²
I sucked in my breath; he¹d missed me, and was willing to say it.
            ³You don¹t even know.²
           His hands roamed from my back to my breasts and as he pressed
into me I could feel his hardness. I reached for his cock and pressed it
against my lacy panties. He let out a vulnerable moan and my body quivered.
He kissed me more passionately as his hand moved lower underneath my panties
to my clitoris, and there he lingered. When I couldn¹t stand it any longer I
took his fingers and pushed them inside me.
            With his free hand he pulled the T-shirt up, and I frantically
helped him take it off. He slid knowingly down my body and took my panties
in his teeth and leisurely pulled them down my legs and off.


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about the author

Lisa Loomis writes because she loves to. Her stories are about the human condition: love, life, and everything in between (including sex, drugs, alcohol, and things just crazy enough to be true). Her stories are not predictable, conventional, or lacking in the messiness of life. She tries to extract the real emotion in any given situation in her characters, with a touch of humor.  Lisa Loomis was born in Oakland California and raised in San Jose until she was a sophomore in high school. Her father then took a job in the San Diego area where he moved the family to Escondido, California (or hickville as she
called it). She finished high school at San Pasqual High then went to junior college at Palomar JC, ultimately graduating from San Diego State University with a BS in Finance. Finding more BS than finance with the financial meltdown in 2008 she went back to her passion of writing. See all her books on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and  Smashwords

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