Thursday, 3 July 2014


The Last Train Home, my forage into MF by my alter ego Jae J Jensen, has a shiny new cover by the uber-talented Book Covers by Design and is available at Amazon for $0.99!


Casual hook-ups are not Katherine's usual modus operandi. She's level headed, confident and definitely not into throwing caution, and her knickers, to the wind. 

However, when the last train becomes the stranded in a pitch black tunnel train, she finds herself alone in the dark with a gorgeous stranger, who makes her an offer she ought to, but can't refuse.



For what must have been the hundredth time, Katherine wished she hadn't agreed to work late, not this late, anyway. The entire office was in chaos, trying to get everything ready for the new boss's arrival. Katherine worked for the head of Sales and Marketing at Thacker, Wright & Grant one of the largest advertising firms in the city, and he'd had her staying late every night this week to make sure all his files were complete. Every 'i' had to be double dotted and every 't' double crossed. Which is exactly what Jack Brody was, a double-crossing, ass-pinching, sleazy son of a bitch.
Payroll had done the rounds earlier, and on opening her pay check she was furious to note he hadn't authorized the overtime she'd completed last month—and she knew why. The bastard had been given a written warning last week for his overtly tactile behaviour after she'd made a complaint to Human Resources about his wandering hands. She should have let the asshole present his files to the new VP in their original state—fucking slime-bag.
The screen that had been indicating her train would be arriving in three minutes for the last ten mocked her, daring her to challenge its shitty information. She checked her watch, again. If she'd missed the last train home because of that dickhead she was going to be taking the taxi fare out of his ass with a well-placed Jimmy Choo. Speaking of Jimmy Choos, she was starting to get a little antsy in hers. The silence was deafening and, coupled with the flickering fluorescent lighting, she felt as though she'd stepped into a scene from An American Werewolf in London.
Her gaze flitted around the platform, settling on the homeless person—she couldn't tell whether it was a man or a woman from the generic ensemble of filthy overcoat and tattered beanie—curled up on a bench a few feet from her. She wanted to move away, but she also didn't want to make it obvious that's what she wanted to do. Shaking her head at her own reluctance to hurt the feelings of a sleeping tramp, she mentally cursed her mother and the good manners she'd insisted on instilling in her children.
A loud rumbling from the yawning mouth of the tunnel began to build, and the draft created by the approaching locomotive snatched at her coat with icy fingers. Butterflies took flight in Katherine's belly as the roaring grew louder. She loved the sights and sounds of the train pulling into the station. The way the air seemed to be sucked out of the confined space and then pushed back in with a punch when the train burst forth from the darkness like a huge party favour blown between a giant's lips.
Jesus—waxing a bit lyrical aren't we? You must be tired.
Katherine ignored her inner voice as several carriages passed her before the train came to a stop. The doors opened and she stepped inside, looking around and finding she was alone. Thank God, the last thing she needed was some well-meaning fellow traveller pressing her for conversation.  Settling on one of the seats, Katherine sighed heavily and leaned back against the headrest, closing her eyes and willing away the pressure of the day. The train's engine rumbled as it prepared to continue its journey and the warning buzzer for the doors let off its high pitched beep, signalling the last chance to get on.
Katherine's eyes flew open at the expletive and she stared, open-mouthed, at the man who had just managed to squeeze through the doors and onto the car before they'd completely closed. His gaze immediately found hers and he sent her an apologetic smile, which she acknowledged with a brief twitch of her lips.
Katherine couldn't believe he'd managed to get all his appendages inside before the train moved off. He probably used the same expertise it took to shoe horn himself into those jeans. The thought bounced around her skull before she could squash it, and she was mortified to note the playful smile on his face, as if she'd said the words out loud. The train jolted as it moved off and Katherine dropped her gaze to her clasped hands where they lay in her lap.
Jesus, get a grip, Kathy. Anyone would think you'd never seen a hottie before.
That in itself was true; but there was hot and then there was the man sitting across the carriage. Tall, very tall, she'd noticed that when he'd all but fallen onto the train. From the furtive glances she found herself unable to stop taking, she discovered he had dark, brooding eyes, aquiline nose and stubble shadowing his square jaw. His chiselled features could have made him appear hard, if it weren't for his lips. She risked another peak from beneath her lashes. They were full, pouty and looked so soft, for a split-second she wondered how they would feel on her skin. Along with how his black hair would look in contrast with her pale flesh as he slid his tongue down her belly and— Katherine Russell what on earth are you doing? Do you need me to remind you you're a nice girl?
No—she didn't need reminding, but the frisson of excitement sliding down her spine when he turned his dark gaze away from the window and onto her, suggested a bit of a nudge might be a good idea. Of course, if he'd stop sending her toe-curling glances, that would probably help.
How long has it been since we saw any action that didn't involve alcohol wipes or, God forbid, the replacement of triple A's at pivotal moments?
Katherine's cheeks flushed with warmth at the memory. That was definitely one of her lower points, but she hadn't quite hit rock bottom yet. She still had some dignity—didn't she? Trying to tune out the hysterical laughter of her inner Katherine, she gazed out of the window at the dark rushing by. What else did she expect to see? They were on the Central line for Pete's sake. For the next fifty minutes the only scenery she was going to get were black walls and lines of electric cable. She sighed heavily, well used to the joys of being a London commuter, and settled back against headrest.
"I feel like I should introduce myself."
Of course his voice is rich, deep and warm enough to melt butter. What else would it be?
Katherine swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat and turned her head in his direction. "I'm sorry?" Jesus, Katherine, now he'll think you're the village idiot.
Tall, dark and oops I think my knickers just caught fire, smiled widely, revealing an adorable dimple in his left cheek. "It feels kind of impolite to sit here and not say anything when we're the only ones here." He leaned across the small gangway between the seats and held out his hand. "I'm CJ."
American—Texas by the sound of it—she'd seen enough Dallas re-runs to recognize the sexy drawl. "Katherine," she replied, shaking his hand and snatching back her fingers at the tiny electric shock she received from his.
"Good to meet you, Katherine. Pretty name, for a pretty lady."
Katherine huffed out a polite laugh and turned her gaze back to the window. Good grief.
"I'm sorry, that was a really crappy line."
Katherine smiled and admitted, "Worse than some, not as bad as others; but yeah, it was right up there with 'Get your coat, love, you've pulled'."
"Really? British guys actually use that one?" CJ looked aghast at the very notion.
"They still drag it out every once in a while," Katherine's lips twitched in amusement at his expression. "But I can't imagine their success rate is very high."
"Jeez, and I thought us Yanks were corny as hell."
"Nope, we have a healthy market for cheese over here, too." Katherine blushed again as he threw back his head and guffawed at her attempt at humour. Which was pleasing, because not everyone appreciated her dryness. Not to mention the sound unfurled a ball of heat in the pit of her stomach. Heat that warmed her cheeks and sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her core, making her involuntarily fidget in her seat.
"So," CJ said softly. "What's the customary subject for two strangers meeting on a train? This is a first for me. In Dallas the chances of you getting an empty car on the subway is harder than winning the lottery."
Katherine shifted position slightly so she was half turned towards him and crossed her legs, thanking God she was wearing her last pair of un-laddered hold ups, and her new dark purple suit. "Hmmm…," she murmured, as if she were in deep consideration over his question. "To be honest, I have no idea. Whenever anyone says strangers on a train to me all I can think of is the old Alfred Hitchcock classic, and I'm sure that's not what you meant. Unless you have someone you want me to kill, of course."
"Not that I can think of right now," CJ replied with another chuckle, shifting his position to mirror hers she was pleased to note. "Although my landlord still hasn't fixed the hot water yet, so I could change my mind when I'm naked under a freezing shower later."

Katherine tried not to dribble at the thought of a naked CJ under cascading water, whatever the temperature, and couldn't help squeezing her thighs together. The movement sent a pulse of delicious sensation straight to her pussy, curling her toes in her shoes.

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