Valen-Teen's Day!

By Alana Church

Sydney Hayes was divorced, lonely, and miserable. But when she is introduced to a special club of other women, things begin to change! Every year, the Milford MILFs go out in search of hot young men to take to bed. Sydney wants no part of it, but when opportunity knocks in the form of a sexy teenager, will she refuse to answer the door?

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

Jake looked like he was about to pass out. Or choke. His face went pale, then reddened, the knot on his head, just below the dark brown hair on his temple, standing out in stark relief.

“Um.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and she was tempted to pat him on the head, like Marcus during a thunderstorm. Happily, however, his hand didn’t drop from her breast. “Are you offering to go to bed with me? And have sex?”

She moved a little bit closer, heat building inside of her. Now she understood the allure that Gladys and Samantha and Heather were talking about. Younger men were so simple, so uncomplicated. There wasn’t any posturing, any games, any stupid macho male bullshit. Simply by dint of being ten years older than Jake, she was in control of the...well, she wasn’t quite ready to call it a relationship. Say, rather, of the situation. Jake wasn’t old enough to have the sort of experience that would make him try to pretend he didn’t want her.

“Yeah,” she said, placing her hand lightly on his side. “I guess I am.” Her fingers itched to explore his crotch, and see if what she had thought she had seen was actually reality.

Oh, who was she fooling? Jake was a teenager, wasn’t he? And she had caught enough sideways glances from him over the years to know that he found her attractive. At least he wasn’t rude about it, like some teenagers, who practically had their tongues hanging out of their mouths when they looked at her. But she would bet her retirement account that he was stiff as a railroad spike under his jeans.

“Why?” Jake’s voice cracked, and he flushed charmingly. He cleared his throat. “Why me?”

Because I have a bunch of perverted friends who think it’s a blast to seduce younger men, she very carefully did not say. And I’m starting to see why.

“Why not you?” she replied instead. “You’re good-looking, smart, decent, and I’ve known you for years.” She finally gave in to her temptation and looked downward. Oh, yeah, that’s what I was hoping to see. “And you’re certainly capable,” she smirked.

“I’m also something like ten years younger than you are.”

“And that matters how?” She stroked his skin through his t-shirt, noting with pleasure how he shivered under his touch. “You’re an adult in every way that matters. If you’re willing, I would love to have sex. And if you’re not, well, the door is over there.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boruma Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Jan 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463932025

Alana Church

Born and raised in Illinois, Alana attended the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, graduating with a degree in Education in 1994. She soon found out that the teaching life was not for her, and after a series of adventures has settled down in the Chicago suburbs, where she works for a telecommunications company.Alana lives alone, surrounded by books, pictures, a pile of story ideas, and a turtle named Pedro.

Book preview

Valen-Teen’s Day!

By Alana Church

Artwork by Moira Nelligar

Copyright 2020 Alana Church

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~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~

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Chapter 1: New Year, Same Deal

I may look calm, but if this woman goes on for much longer, I will scream I swear to God.

The weekly Monday morning meeting had already dragged on nearly half an hour past its scheduled time, and as Sydney Hayes stared out the windows into the gray January sky, she felt like an animal that would gnaw its own leg off to get out of a trap. Mondays were always bad. But the Monday following a holiday was even worse. When you combined that with the fact that Christmas and New Year’s had both fallen in the middle of the week, which shot two straight weeks right to hell, with half the company taking time off and the other half working from home, getting back into the swing of things was an exercise in futility. All she wanted to do was to drive home, crawl back into bed, and not get up until a more reasonable hour.

May, for instance. Or June. As the nasal whine of Florence Romney drilled into her head, she composed new lyrics to holiday classics, trying to distract herself from the urge to stand up, walk out the door, and never come back to Lehigh Industries again.

Deck the halls with boughs of land mines, she sang. Fa-la-la-la, la-la-la-BOOM! She bit her lip, holding back a snicker, then blinked as she realized the entire room was staring at her. What?

I asked, Rick Williams said, with elaborate patience, if you had anything to add to Flo’s comments about the billing system?

She shrugged. No, she said flatly. It’s crap. It was crap when they gave us the demo. It was crap when we bought it. It was crap when we tried to do the installation in three months, when we needed six to bring all the different teams up to speed. And it’s crap now. The best we can do is work around the issues and scream like hell so that our problems get first priority with the vendor down in Atlanta.

Florence’s thin chest expanded with offended outrage. Well, Sydney, if you thought that, perhaps you should have made your feelings known before we bought it, instead of afterwards. Hindsight, she smirked condescendingly, is always twenty-twenty.

I did, she said, succeeding in keeping a level tone, though lord knew it wasn’t easy. If you care to check the minutes of the meetings that discussed implementing a new billing system, you will see that I strenuously objected to several aspects of the process, including the product, which I considered subpar, and the rushed deadline, which seemed to me to be needlessly arbitrary. Those objections were overruled, however. Her face remained studiously blank, but everyone in the room knew exactly who had overruled those objections, and who had started driving a brand-new car a few weeks after they had purchased the new system.

She closed her laptop abruptly. But it’s no use crying over spilled milk, she added, cutting Florence off just before the other woman’s indrawn breath could vent in a venomous harangue. We have to deal with what we have, and make the best of things. She stood, gathering up her notepad and coffee mug. Are we done?

Yeah. Rick’s voice was dry. Amused? Or pissed? We’re done.

Girl, a voice said into her ear as she stalked down the hall, you better be careful. That bitch doesn’t like it when people stand up to her.

I’ve got a spine, Gladys. And it isn’t made out of pudding. Everyone knows that she fast-tracked the new system and did it over the objections of half the damn company. She shoved open the door of her office, barely restraining herself from slamming the computer down on her desk. And now, when people are raising holy hell about what a shitty system it is, she’s trying to shift the blame. Well, I’m not going to be her fucking scapegoat. And I hope like hell someone around here asks her to account for all her extra income. Maybe if it got out she was taking kickbacks, the suits might have the balls to fire her.

Gladys Milano pushed the door closed with one high-heeled shoe. Her eyes were worried. Are you all right, Sydney? You don’t usually lose it like this. She chewed her lip. How were your holidays? Everything all right with the family?

Oh, it was just fucking great. She sank into her chair. "At Dad’s place, I got a twenty-five dollar gift card to Amazon and a case of intestinal flu from the crappy chili he insisted we all try. And at Mom’s, I found out the cooking set she insisted she wanted for Christmas had to be returned and exchanged for something else, because she had also told her husband she wanted the same thing. She snorted. When I asked her why she