Spring into Summer

By Eden Baylee

Travel to England, Ireland, USA, and Thailand with four erotic novellas in one anthology!

A young woman meets a professor who teaches her life's most important lessons in A SEASON FOR EVERYTHING.

In UNLOCKING THE MYSTERY, a secret box in an old house reveals an unusual love of two people who have never met.

SUMMER SOLSTICE is the setting for a pagan party, a night of sexual adventure, and a man who will set a woman's heart afire.

A Thai nightclub holds an unusual drawing in THE LOTTERY. The prize is a woman, but her services are not what you might expect.

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"Baylee's tales are so much more than simply good erotica. They are stunning slices of humanity laid bare at their most vulnerable moments ..." - Tracy Riva, The Midwest Book Review

"I was surprised by the literary quality of these stories. Love stories much more than erotica, and so well done." - Toby Neal, author of the Lei Crime Series

"Spring into Summer was a great read and I recommend it to romance lovers who aren't afraid to let Baylee access their more raw side." - Diantha Jones, Masquerade Crew

NOTE: The companion anthology, FALL INTO WINTER, and each novella also sold separately.

Editorial Review:

"As a poet (or hack according to my critics), my goal has always been to paint emotional pictures with words; to show how feelings look. I think that is why I both admire and resent Eden. She accomplishes what I set out to do and yet frequently fail to accomplish. Her prose is emotive but easy, and she never falls into the trap of saying instead of showing. Be it a gentle moment between two vulnerable souls or a torrid episode of wanton desire; Eden's words are unobtrusive. In reading her work I often find myself experiencing a range of emotions. Her stories flow seamlessly from sweet to steamy while never feeling forced. Men over 40 (how much over shall remain the secret of my vanity) are not exactly the target demographic for literary erotica. But if there were more of the genre as good as Eden's, I think the marketeers would need to rethink their strategy."
~ Steven Marty Grant, author of Another Hotel Room

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eden Baylee
• Release date: Dec 11, 2012
• ISBN: 9781310582219

Eden Baylee

Eden Baylee left a twenty-year banking career to become a full-time writer. She incorporates many of her favorite things into her writing such as: travel; humor; music; poetry; art; and much more.She has written three collections of erotic novellas and flash fiction—Spring into Summer, Fall into Winter, and Hot Flash.In June 2014, she released her first novel outside the erotica genre—a psychological mystery/thriller with a sexy twist called Stranger at Sunset. A synopsis and more information can be found on her website.

Book preview

spring into summer

four erotic novellas

eden baylee

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Learn more about the author and her work at:

http://www.edenbayleebooks.com

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Cover design by JB Graphics

Cover photographs courtesy of iStockphoto

Edited by Annetta Ribken

Copyright

Published by lowercase publishing

Copyright 2012 eden baylee

Smashwords edition. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

For more information, contact [e-mail]

contents

the novellas

acknowledgements

dedication

spring

a season for everything

unlocking the mystery

summer

summer solstice

the lottery

titles by eden baylee

about the author

the novellas

Spring into Summer is the companion piece to my first book, Fall into Winter. It’s comprised of four distinct novellas; two take place in the spring and two in the summer.

The inspiration for this book is vast. My love of poetry has connected me to some amazing poets, and their words have seeped into my subconscious. It’s reorganized the way I write and ripped stories from my heart. A Season For Everything is heavily influenced by my affection for poets.

In Unlocking the Mystery, I pay respect to the serendipity of life. Though my writing is steeped in reality, this story acknowledges we can’t always explain the magical quality of love.

Summer Solstice kicks off the hot season. Everything about this story is hot—the men, the women, the toys. It’s a party with pagans, and they know how to have fun.

The final novella is The Lottery, a story that touches on many themes, but at its core, is about the choices we have, the sacrifices we make, and the relationships we keep.

The common thread? Sex, of course. This is erotica, after all.

acknowledgements

To my editor, Annetta Ribken who improved my writing by not telling me what to do but by insisting I can do better, thank you for being an extraordinary person.

To the authors who’ve helped me ever since I started taking my writing seriously, you have my deepest respect for all that you do.

To the network of writers, filmmakers, artists, and lovely people from all over the world who supported me when it really mattered—your kindness is forever etched in my memory.

To friends and family who continue to encourage me, thank you for getting me out of the house once in a while.

To readers who’ve bought my books, read my blog, and connected to me, I offer you my sincerest gratitude. There is no greater compliment for me than your enjoyment of my words.

Finally, to the man who makes it all worthwhile—you are the one.

To the poets who inspire me

spring

a season for everything

unlocking the mystery

a season for everything

~ PROLOGUE ~

I looked at the faces of the young men and women sitting in front of me. My chest tightened, and a wave of nausea threatened to make me run out of the room. Swallowing the jitters crawling up my throat, I told myself no matter what happened—I must not cry.

How do I begin to impart the wisdom of a relationship that transformed my life—one that happened too quickly and affected me profoundly?

Being with an older man changed me, and being with a man who saw the world in a unique way only amplified the consequences. I’d always wanted someone who could teach me something. I just wasn’t prepared for the lessons I would learn from him in our short time together.

The affair has been over for nearly three years now, and yet; I remain raw as the day it ended.

* * * *

On an exceptionally warm winter’s day for London, Brenda Williams and I sat in her kitchen drinking Earl Grey tea and eating brownies. I'd noticed spring making an early appearance with the snowdrops in her garden. After taking over most of the domestic duties including grocery shopping, cleaning, and cooking, Brenda confessed how happy she was to have me staying with her. She hated housework of any kind.

Claire, you’re going to make some man a very good wife one day. These brownies are smashing! Brenda popped another bite-sized morsel into her mouth.

You know I love to bake, but I never did much of it back home. I finished cutting the pan of brownies and plated a small square for myself.

Why the heck not?

My parents couldn’t eat sweets, and I wasn’t going to bake only for myself.

Yes, well, I’m getting fat if this keeps up. Your good cooking is spoiling me. I haven’t opened a can in a while, but …

But what? I was almost afraid she was going to tell me she wanted me to leave. I’d been staying in her modest flat in West Hampstead for close to a month.

Brenda reached for another brownie absent-mindedly. I’m just wondering if you’re having fun, that’s all. I’m really grateful for the help, but you’re my friend, not my housekeeper. You know that, right?

Of course I do, but I’m the one who’s grateful. If it were not for you, I’d still be in Montreal giving my parents grief. They were tired of seeing me do nothing after quitting school. I took a sip of my tea, something I had grown fond of here. "And I am having fun. I tend to your garden out back, go for a walk, read. I love it." I fingered the handle of Brenda’s dainty teacup. Though she wasn’t lavish in any other way, she insisted we use the fine bone china left to her by her grandmother.

I’m happy your parents convinced you to come and visit me … but Claire, you sound like an eighty-year-old woman. You must get out more.

I will. Please don’t worry about me.

After we finished our tea, I cleared the table and brought the dishes to the sink. I’d just started washing them when Brenda banged the table with her fists and shouted, Bloody hell!

What? I almost dropped the soapy cup in my hands.

I completely forgot to tell you I met someone the other night. Brenda got up and bounced on her toes.

Oh honey. I pressed my hand to my chest. You scared the hell out of me. I rinsed the remaining dishes and turned off the tap, drying my hands on a tea towel. That’s wonderful. I’m thrilled for you.

"No, no, silly, not for me, for you."

Bren, what? I’m not interested in seeing anyone, I—

I know, but I think you’d really like him. I’m almost sure he’s single.

Almost sure? You’re setting me up with a married man?

She gave me an exasperated look. No, of course not, silly. I didn’t see a wedding band, so he’s probably not married. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in the store, so we started talking. Carolyn says she’s seen him in on the weekends with a woman. Brenda rolled her eyes. You’ve met Carolyn. You know she’s not the sharpest pencil in the box.

Carolyn was the student who worked part-time in Brenda’s bookstore on Saturdays. Though she was sweet, she was somewhat forgetful.

I stood rigid and folded my arms over my chest. All right, let’s assume he’s unmarried. Who is this man, and why would I like him?

He’s smart, well read, and I think he teaches at the university, or he did.

What do you mean?

He may be retired, or took a sabbatical or something like that. I’m not sure. I mentioned you to him as my friend visiting from Canada who liked poetry. He seemed interested … Brenda offered a sheepish grin.

I shook my head. Bren, first of all, how old is this man? Retired?

You know I’m not good with that. I saw gray hair, but he has hair—lots of it! Plus, he has the most amazing eyes on a man I’ve ever seen–totally mesmerizing.

I had to hand it to Brenda. Being in the book-buying business meant she met all kinds of interesting people. After all, she loved to read, talk about books, and so did the people who came into her store.

Okay. I groaned. Be honest with me. Is he good looking?

Well …

A-ha! Your hesitation tells me everything I need to know. I—

No, no, that’s not fair. Brenda waved her finger in my face. He’s attractive, just not my type. I like ’em blond, a bit chunky, and this man’s definitely not chunky.

All right. I challenged her further. Which actor does he remind you of?

Blimey, who the heck knows? I never go to the cinema.

Come on, now. I placed my hands on my hips. Does he look like Colin Firth, Daniel Craig, or Anthony Hopkins?

Anthony Hopkins, she said without hesitation, then added, but thinner, taller, and with more hair!

Brenda’s lack of knowledge of pop culture astounded me. Still, she knew I had a thing for intensely intelligent men and had liked Anthony Hopkins ever since seeing The Silence of the Lambs.

"Do you even know what Anthony Hopkins looks like?" I laughed.

No, but you’ll get to see my version of him next week. I invited him to my first annual Customer Appreciation Party."

* * * *

I arrived at Open Book, Brenda’s store, promptly at six in the evening. Even the tiny group of people already chatting and enjoying themselves made the small store appear full to the brim. As one of the few independent bookstores left in London, Brenda’s mother had built up a strong customer base over the twenty years she ran the business.

Brenda wanted the continuing support of the old clientele. She was cautious about making too many changes in a short time period. I noticed she’d reserved a small section of the store with comfortable chairs for people to sit and read since my last visit. She talked about introducing other goodwill gestures like tea and biscuits Monday to Wednesday. That seemed to be a big hit. Her years in university toward a marketing degree had taught her a thing or two about how to win over customer loyalty. This simple party for fifty of her regulars was just one example. She’d also discounted prices on some popular books and lined up guest authors to do readings on a monthly basis. Brenda’s goal was to make the store feel like a second home to her customers.

For tonight’s event, Brenda acquired a license to serve wine on the premises. I made dessert to accompany store-bought cheese and fruit plates. Instead of just the brownies Brenda insisted upon, I’d prepared a tray of petit fours, which included meringues, profiteroles, and miniature apple tarts. I’d spent the better part of two days baking and messing up Brenda’s kitchen.

After scanning the room, I saw Brenda surrounded by a group of older ladies.

Claire! Brenda waved me in her direction.

I weaved my way toward her. Nice turn out so far, I said, nodding my hellos to the ladies whose conversation I’d interrupted.

Brenda introduced me to Mary and Lyndice as two of her mother’s oldest friends.

We were just saying what a fabulous job Brenda is doing with the store, said Lyndice.

Dorothy was a gem with a gift for talking to people, said Mary. I’m happy she’s passed that on to her daughter.

Brenda smiled and touched the woman on her arm. Thank you both for your kind words. It’s been difficult stepping into Mum’s shoes. I miss her every day.

Of course you do, dear, but your mum would’ve been proud. Mary leaned over and gave Brenda a hug.

Brenda’s eyes brimmed with tears. Lyndice opened her purse and handed her a tissue. We changed the subject and chatted briefly about how I was enjoying London before Brenda looped her arm around mine. Ladies, if you’ll excuse us, I’m going to steal Claire away for a moment. She dragged me toward the back of the store. Thank god you’re here! I love those ladies, but they always make me cry. I can’t be upset tonight. She lowered her head and pressed the tissue to her eyes.

Aw, Bren. You’re doing great. I know this was your mom’s store, but I think these people really like you. I stroked her arm. You’ve made it your own.

Yes, I know, and I’m grateful for the patronage. The only reason I stay in business is because of what Mum’s done over the years.

No. I grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. The reason you stay in business is because you’ve worked damned hard since taking over from your mom. You deserve this success and don’t you forget it. I knew how difficult it had been for Brenda to move back to London to care for her ailing mother. At the time, she was a foreign student just one semester shy of graduating with a Marketing and Advertising degree from McGill.

She teared up again. At times, I didn’t think I was going to make it. Between hospital visits and trying to keep the store open … Brenda sniffled and blew her nose.

And you had no help. You’re a much better friend to me than I was to you.

Don’t be daft! She slapped me on the arm. You were on the other side of the world. There was nothing you could do.

Yes, but I …

Brenda’s attention suddenly strayed past me to the entrance of the store. I instinctively followed her gaze. A man pushed open the door, filling the air with a cheery jingle. He walked in backwards shaking his umbrella. Once inside, he brushed the wet drops from his shoulders. He stood at least six feet and had a presence about him speaking of confidence and intelligence. I briefly caught his eye before I turned back to Brenda and regained her attention.

Who’s that?

Brenda grinned and said in a hushed tone, "That—my dear, is your Sir Anthony Hopkins."

I sneaked another peek, watched him fold his umbrella and place it in the holder, then proceeded to take off his coat.

You know, he’s not half bad.

Ace! I knew he’d be your type, let me introduce you. Brenda pulled my arm, but I stood firm.

Please, he just got here. I tried to shush her. I’m sure I’ll have time to talk to him later without being so obvious. Besides, I need a drink first.

Suit yourself, love. I’m going to bring out your fabulous desserts. You be sure to talk to him. His name’s Stephen.

Brenda pushed her way through the growing crowd, stopping to say hello to each customer as if they were old friends. It was a true party atmosphere with the rising chatter and sea of bodies. I wasn’t sure which way to go, so I turned around to stare at a wall of books. To appear less awkward, I pulled a book off the shelf and pretended to read it as the crowd moved around me. I was surprised at how excited I felt to meet Stephen. He looked less like Anthony Hopkins, more like Clive Owen, another British actor I quite liked, only this man seemed older. If I had to guess, I would say late thirties to early-forties.

Flipping the pages of the book, I chuckled when I realized I’d picked up one of the many iterations of the Kama Sutra, widely regarded as the most famous work on erotic pleasure ever created. I blushed as I stared at the pages of explicit sexual positions, each beautifully illustrated with stunning color photographs and step-by-step instructions.

Are you learning anything? said a deep voice near me. I slammed the book shut like a teen-aged boy caught with his first dirty magazine. Slowly, I turned around to stare into the dark brown eyes of the man behind me. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, he said and smiled; tiny crow’s feet only made him more alluring.

I was just flipping pages. I felt more heat rush to my cheeks and hoped to god I was not turning beet red. I slid the book back into its place on the shelf.

"My name’s Stephen

Reviews for Spring into Summer

[iamindeed · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I received an eBook copy from the author for review. I was not compensated for this review, and all conclusions are my own responsibility.

This is a book comprised of four novellas, each which focuses on a woman in transition. Each woman is at a distinct point in her life where a change is welcome, and a connection with another human being helps to set her on a new path forward. As the seasons move from the promise of spring into the heat promised by summer, each story moves forward in the same way: allowing the characters to bloom under the action of the erotic connections they develop.

As a quick pick-me-up read this book is fabulous. Since each novella stands on its own, there are 4 little moments of ‘ooh’ to entice your imagination and stir your senses. The writing is polished and clever, details show an attention to scene and emotion, and the stories read beautifully. Far from centering solely on the erotic content, these stories manage to create an emotional investment in each woman’s life for the time we spend with them. This is the companion piece to her Fall into Winter collection, although it stands alone as being a successful story compilation.