A Spirited Threesome: MMF Menage Romance

By Cari Griffin

Two gorgeous men, ghostly rumors, and a family secret. What could go wrong?

Kaylee Evans can't believe her luck. As an archivist for historical documents, work isn't exactly rolling in. So when she lands a very part time gig at the Historical Society in Providence—birthplace of her favorite period author Alistair K. Ashworth—it's as if all her dreams have come true. But it's clear she'll need a second job if she wants to eat on a regular basis. And that's when luck strikes again. She answers an ad for a housekeeper at a historic Victorian mansion—a mansion that just happens to be the Alistair K. Ashworth House, circa 1860. Ecstatic to think she might have full run of Ashworth's family home and maybe some long-forgotten manuscripts, Kaylee's determined to get the job. Except that she has zero experience as a housekeeper. And the butler who opens the door bears a strong resemblance to a creature from one of Ashworth's books. And old Mr. Richard Ashworth, a descendent to the famous writer, believes she's someone from 1945.

Oh, and the old house is reputed to be haunted by Alistair's ghost.

Attorney Carter Harrison can't believe his luck. Between the forgetful old patriarch, the eccentric household staff, and what might or might not be paranormal activity, Ashworth's estate can't find a housekeeper who'll stay for more than a week. So when Kaylee shows up asking for work, Carter hires her on the spot. She wouldn't know formal tea service if it fell on her head, but she seems eager to learn. And he has to admit, it has been way too long since he's spent time with a smart, beautiful, curvy woman. His immediate attraction flares even hotter when Garrett Ashworth arrives, as wickedly charming as ever. Carter and the rogue Ashworth heir have history, and seeing him again heats Carter's blood. And clearly, Kaylee's as well. But when strange noises in the attic thrust the three of them into each other's arms, they find more than just passion. And when they discover an obscure document that puts Garrett and his sister's inheritance in jeopardy, they know something strange—and dangerous—looms over them all…

Reader note: contains MMF ménage, hot romance elements, BBW, light-hearted humor, and male/male love. A complete, stand-alone story with a happily ever after

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wolf Hill Publishing
• Release date: Mar 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215727287

Book preview

Table of Contents

Cover

Table of Contents

Look for these titles from Cari Griffin

Title Page

Copyright Warning

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

About the Author

Also by Cari Griffin

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Sweet Satisfaction

The Stowaway Bride Series

Stowaway Bride (Book One)

Stowaway Bliss (Book Two)

A Spirited Threesome

M/M/F Ménage Romance

Cari Griffin

Etopia Press

Copyright Warning

EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Published By

Etopia Press

1643 Warwick Ave., #124

Warwick, RI 02889

http://www.etopiapress.com

A Spirited Threesome

Copyright © 2018 by Cari Griffin

ISBN: 978-1-947135-93-2

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Etopia Press electronic publication: July 2018

CHAPTER ONE

Kaylee

It wasn’t difficult to find the huge Victorian mansion the rumors claimed was haunted. At first, I’d laughed at those rumors as silly, but seeing the house for the first time made me admit it fit the cliché.

The house stood on the side of a hill off a narrow, tree-lined cobblestone street. I had to laugh when I drove up to the sweeping grounds enclosed by a high iron gate complete with spikes. No automatic gate opener, of course, but the gate creaked nicely when I opened it enough to drive my little sedan through.

The big Victorian had seen better years, but I could barely take my eyes off the mansion as I pulled through the iron gates and rolled up the long driveway. I even spotted a crow or maybe a raven on the house’s widow’s walk. Edgar Allan Poe eat your heart out.

Still, the history buff inside me was doing a happy dance. I was a document archivist, but even though I’d graduated a few years ago, I’d only been able to find temporary work in my field specializing in rare and ephemeral documents. Times had been lean lately, so here I was taking a job as a housekeeper to make ends meet. I still hoped for a few new assignments at the Historical Society, but I couldn’t sit around holding my breath forever.

This was a wealthy part of town, full of late colonial and early Victorian houses, but this particular mansion seemed proud to be decrepit and thumb its nose at any attempt at modern gentrification. Just my luck to be interviewing at the one place that looked like it might be abandoned to the weeds and ivy. If this hadn’t been the house of the famous writer Alistair K. Ashworth, I might’ve given up and gone for a job at the gas station.

Who was I kidding? I needed full-time work, and the room and board made this a perfect job for me. If I had to scrub a few toilets to make ends meet, then hand me the scrub brush and step back. Besides, I was a fan of Alistair K. Ashworth’s work. I’d even worked on a few original Ashworth documents at the Historical Society.

I pulled up alongside a sleek-looking BMW that glinted in the afternoon sun. It looked like a car a lawyer would drive, so it must belong to Carter Harrison, the Ashworth family attorney I was going to meet for an interview. My little sedan looked quite meek and homely next to the elegant BMW. I tried not to take that as a bad sign as I checked my ensemble in the car window’s reflection. I was plus-sized but had chosen a simple outfit that flattered my curvy shape. I liked to play to my strengths.

I reached the huge front doors and found myself face-to-face with an ornate door knocker almost as big as my head. It looked far too heavy to lift. But there was a doorbell at the side, barely visible behind the ivy. Gratefully, I reached for it. There was no sound when I pressed it. Did it actually work? I hesitated, not wanting to keep pressing it over and over again but not wanting to stand out here forever either.

While I stood there, I noticed a plaque on the clapboards almost hidden by ivy. I pushed the leaves aside to read it. Alistair K. Ashworth House, 1860. Somewhere above me, the crow-raven cawed loudly. I began to wonder if the ghost of Poe or maybe Alistair Ashworth would come floating out of one of the second-story windows.

After what seemed like an eternity, the doors opened. I had to take a step back when a gaunt man, who had to be over six-and-a-half feet tall, appeared in front of me. I had to tilt my head back to look at him. The man was almost as thin as he was tall, his cheeks and his gray eyes sunken. He looked like something out of an old, black and white horror movie—a ghoul or a gravedigger or something. I swallowed and straightened my blouse. Now was not the time to get nervous.

Hello, I squeaked. I cleared my throat and tried again. I’m here to see Carter Harrison. It’s for the housekeeper position.

Servant’s entrance around the side, he said. Then he shut the door with a bang, the door knocker bouncing against the thick oak wood. His footsteps echoed as he walked away.

Great, thanks! I said to the closed door.

There was nothing else to do. I would have to go around the side of the house. The grounds were unkempt, ivy and leaves all over the path as I made my way through the overgrowth. When was the last time a gardener had been within ten miles of this place? Sometime in the last century, from the look of it.

There was only one door visible through the throng of dense bushes. The door was already open, and the tall, cadaverous man was in the doorway, staring at me with expressionless eyes. That had me stopping short. How had he got there so quickly? It had taken at least twenty seconds for me to get from door to door. How had he managed to get there before me? Had he run? Used a secret passage? Teleported?

The man sighed impatiently and beckoned me inside. Come in. I haven’t got all day.

It wasn’t too late to leave and get a job as a…hmm, maybe a toll booth operator or something. But I knew I was kidding myself. This job paid astronomically well, so I hurried past him and entered the house.

He led me into a large kitchen where an old woman with her white hair in a bun who looked to be making meatloaf. She looked up and smiled warmly at me.

The man indicated her with one of his huge hands. This is Marjorie Strudwick, Mr. Ashworth’s cook. Mrs. Strudwick, this is…

Kaylee Evans, I added quickly.

She’s our new housekeeper, he finished grimly.

But I haven’t… I began, but then Mrs. Strudwick was in front of me with a twinkle in her eye.

Oh, my dear, it’s so good to see you. She took my hand and kissed my cheek. Then she flapped her apron at the gaunt man who’d let me in. Away with you, Heath, while I get the dinner sorted. I can’t do anything with you under my feet.

Heath grunted, and I felt a brush of cool air behind me. I looked around. He had disappeared. Then the door across the room closed quietly. How had he done that? Before I could figure out what had happened, Mrs. Strudwick was tugging me to the table and making me sit down.

Honestly, that Heath. She giggled. He’s like that all the time.

Do you mean creepy?

Mrs. Strudwick stared at me. Then she threw back her head and cackled.

That’s one way to describe him, but don’t tell him that to his face. He’s the newest of the folk here, but that’s not saying much these days, as we’re all fossils. A bit of a cold fish, but we all have our troubles. Ignore him if he starts acting like he’s your better, as he tends to do. You’ll be working for Mr. Richard Ashworth, not the likes of Heath, who is only an under-butler or a glorified footman. Now, you sit there and rest. I can talk your ear off while I cook dinner.

I smiled. Sounds good.

I was a little early for my appointment with Carter Harrison. I needed to brace myself. If the attorney was anything like Heath, I was going to be in for a strange interview. I glanced at the meatloaf-looking thing she was making. What are you cooking?

Her eyes shone with excitement. One of the master’s favorite meals. Roast pheasant, young potatoes roasted in a goose-fat sauté, broccoli au gratin, and apple and rhubarb purée. She held up a finger. Preceded by vichyssoise with chive and followed by carrot cake with cream cheese icing.

I stared at her. Then I stared at the meatloaf. And then I stared at her again. Looks…delicious.

I was beginning to fear Mrs. Strudwick wasn’t all there. I decided that changing the subject was safest. How long have you worked here, Mrs. Strudwick?

Now that’s a question! The old lady smiled warmly and used her fingers to count. Let me see, I was sixteen when I came here…twenty…forty…I’ve been here fifty-seven years.

Wow. All that time?

All that time, Mrs. Strudwick said proudly. "Mr. Ashworth liked his privacy, but he was a good man. And he was so incredibly handsome when he was a young man.