I just received the cover of my new book "Watchers".  It's a fun-filled fantasy in which 4 couples decide to explore with each other.  It has a lot of humor and, of course, sex.

 Below is the cover and below that, a snippet.

Kelly Mansfield wanted to be seen.  This morning, like every morning, she followed a routine-she stepped into the shower, slid the glass door shut behind her as quietly as she could, glanced at the open curtains that hung over the shower window and, without closing them, turned the shower handle. 

The initial blast of cold water sent a chill through her, causing the nipples that topped her C-cup breasts to instantly harden, twisting and bulging to the point that they ached.  Of course Kelly had to place her hands on her breasts to warm them, and of course she had to roll her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers to enhance the warmth her hands provided, but that only seemed to make her nipples ache even more. 

When the water warmed, Kelly raised her arms over her head and pointed her elbows toward the sky, slowly and purposefully massaging shampoo into her long, blonde locks.  When she rinsed, she ran her hands down her ponytail to squeeze out the excess water.

Shampoo, rinse and repeat.

Again Kelly raised her arms and again she massaged shampoo into her hair.  The water was warm now but the aching in her nipples didn’t fade-in fact, she ached even more.  Kelly knew, she just knew, that someone was watching her.  The lights in the house across the street were dark, but she sensed that someone was staring at her out of the shadows.  This knowledge sent the aching in her nipples straight to her clitoris, creating an excruciating pain that she had to address.

Setting the shower head to massage, she lifted it out of its cradle, placed it between her thighs, grasped the window sill for balance and let the streams of water take care of her pulsating pussy.  She imagined the man across the street, a man she had never met and wasn’t even sure existed, bursting into the shower, tenderly taking her in her arms, pressing her against the travertine shower wall and making passionate love to her.  She imagined him sliding his hands over her breasts, bending his head and guiding them into his mouth to massage them with his lips. 

The pulsating shower head seemed to take on a life of its own.  The streams of water that blasted out of it felt like hundreds of fingers attacking her and, in her imagination, those fingers belonged to not just one man, but many men, all of whom desired her, all of whom desperately wanted her.

Kelly needed more.  She took the shower head, which she had been holding only six inches from her pelvis, and pressed it directly against her body.  In addition to blasting out hard streams of water, the shower head vibrated against her clit, increasing the aching she felt until it became unbearable.  Her orgasm, always violent, consumed her.  Holding the window sill in a death grip, she dropped her head backward, held her breath and let the waves of pleasure flow through her, silently suppressing the screams begging to escape her throat. 

When her orgasm finally ebbed, Kelly turned off the water and put the shower head back in its cradle.  Letting the rough surface of her towel scrape the most sensitive parts of her body, she dried off, anticipating the second part of her morning.