MILF and Cookies

By Alana Church

Sinead loves to bake. And the hot single MILF has set her sights on the new leader of her daughter's scout troop! Can she whip up a recipe for love? John is almost anything a woman could want. She just has to find the right ingredients. And an overnight campout is the perfect opportunity to serve up some "MILF and Cookies!"

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

John didn’t think it was possible to be so aroused.

It wasn’t just that Sinead was gorgeous, though she was. Or that she was gentle and kind, and possessed with a strange, wry humor that often didn’t land until you had a chance to actually think about what she had said.

It was that she was an insufferable, instinctive tease who could drive a man absolutely mad with desire just by existing. He had been ready for almost anything when he left his tent and walked over to hers with his gift of soap and clean towels and the promise of a cool, sensual bath. As a man who was always ready to shoot his shot, rejection was a familiar companion, if not a welcome one. Sinead might not wake up. She might not be willing to take the risk and go down to the pond with him. She might punk out and retreat.

But he hadn’t been ready for her to fake disinterest, which flipped a switch somewhere in his caveman brain. Think you can do without me? His inner caveman snarled, beating on his chest with both fists. I’ll make you scream, and make you love it!

But then she turned back to him, her lips curling in victory. And John would forgive anything, anything at all, to be on the receiving end of that smile. She said something, something about being true, but the words failed to register. Not when compared to the warm, slender feel of her body as she pressed it against him, not when compared to the taste of her mouth, the weight of her breasts.

“Not here,” she gasped, when their lips parted. “I’m not going to screw you for the first time in a water-filled coal-pit.”

He smiled down at her. God, she was lovely in the moonlight, with her eyes gleaming with want. “How about beside a water-filled coal-pit?” he asked. “The grass is soft and deep, and I brought towels.”

She put a finger to the corner of her mouth and tilted her head, considering. “You got a deal.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boruma Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Sep 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798201507411

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

MILF and Cookies

By Alana Church

Artwork by Moira Nelligar

Copyright 2023 Alana Church

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

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Chapter One

Mom! Mom!

Sinead winced as her daughters bounced into the car and slammed the doors shut. What?

You’ll never guess! Kathleen, age seven, said, buckling herself in.

Never ever ever! added Molly, age five and a half, wriggling as her sister helped her fasten her seatbelt.

Of course not. If you don’t tell me.

We’ve got a new scout leader! Kathleen exclaimed, giggling happily as Sinead pulled out of the parking lot. "And he’s like the nicest guy ever! Way nicer than old Miss Knight!"

Sinead rubbed her mouth, hiding a smile. Kathleen and Molly had been infatuated by the idea of the girl scouts as soon as the idea was suggested to them. Shorewood was one of the new suburbs that had grown, like the tentacles of an octopus, out of Chicago’s southwestern suburban sprawl. When they had moved there the previous fall, Molly and Kathleen had barely started classes at their new school before the after-school activity offers had come pouring in. T-ball, softball, soccer, junior Audubon society, astronomy club. Even Arbor Day club, for the love of God. Sinead had been able to fight most of them off, but the lure of being able to hang out with their new classmates after school and make friends had been too much for Kathleen and Molly to resist, so Sinead had reluctantly enrolled both girls in the girl scouts a few months ago.

Unfortunately, the scout leader (who Sinead had never liked much in the first place) had been afflicted with a severe case of the Karens. The powers-that-be at James A. Garfield Elementary had been willing to overlook one, even two indiscretions. People had a right to their opinions, after all. Though why someone would want to get into political fights on Facebook was beyond Sinead’s imagination. But when Betty Knight’s screaming fit at the local Cracker Barrel over the bill went viral, Girl Scout Troop Local 117 had dropped her like a hot potato.

To be replaced, it seemed, by some mystery man. Does the new scout leader have a name? she asked lightly as she drove back home.

Oh. Yeah! Kathleen was almost levitating in her excitement. Mr. Randolph. But he said we could call him John.

But not Johnny, Molly added.

So what makes him so nice? Sinead inquired. Thank goodness their apartment complex was only a few blocks away from the school.

He doesn’t yell, Molly said.

He likes to give high-fives and fist-bumps, Kathleen said.

"He ‘members everyone’s name."

"He brings good snacks."

He’s got a nice smile.

He told Sara she had to share when she was hogging the glitter, Kathleen finished as Sinead pulled into the parking lot.

Goodness. Sinead parked and began the task of helping the girls out of the car, along with their backpacks and lunchboxes. He sounds like the perfect man. Maybe I should marry him.

The girls, caught up in their own chatter, ignored her. Oh. Kathleen reached into her jacket. We’re supposed to give you this.

Sinead unfolded it and sighed. Of course. Yet another drain on her time. And one she probably couldn’t ignore. Thank you, honey.

At least we’re not selling girl scout cookies. That madness was happily over. Until next winter. This was something much less fraught. Just a request that some of the parents help out with the troop. John Randolph seemed to be a man who liked to be prepared, because he listed a good dozen or more ways people could volunteer. Sinead read the list again as she prepared supper for the girls. The choices ran the gamut, from being a chaperone on an overnight camping trip to helping out at one of the bi-weekly meetings to accompanying the troop as they went for a hike or visited a nature sanctuary.

Ah. Her finger rested on an item. That, I can do.

Time for dinner, girls, she said, placing the meal on the table. Turn off the television.

But, Mom…

No buts, Sinead said. Suppertime is family time. The TV will still be there when we’re done.

But then it will be bedtime, Kathllen pouted.

Curses. Sinead sat down and began spooning reheated chicken and vegetables onto the girls’ plates. You have figured out my cunning plan. And I would have gotten away with it too, if it hadn’t been for you snooping kids!

Kathleen and Molly exchanged side-eyes as they sat down, then shrugged and began to eat, taking her snarky comment as just one more adult incomprehensibility. With only a little encouragement, Sinead was able to get them talking about the day at school, rather than whatever brain-rotting garbage they had been watching on the television. It was easy to let their cheerful chatter wash over her, a balm to her aching, empty heart. Eventually the talk turned to scouts, the new troop-leader, and his virtues, which seemed to be all of them at once.

How old is he? Sinead asked, cutting off a rambling tale from Molly.

Molly’s nose wrinkled. He’s a grown-up.

Her lips twitched. So he’s really old, huh?

Molly nodded All grown-ups are old.

So is he old like me, or old like great-grandma Kowalski?

"Grandma Kowalski has wrinkles, Kathleen said. Lots of them. And her hair is white. I don’t think John has wrinkles. And his hair is brown."

No wrinkles and brown hair, Sinead summed up. He sounds perfect.

"He is perfect!" Molly said, her mouth full of carrots.

Don’t talk with your mouth full, dear.

The little girl made a face, but cleaned her plate. Can we go watch TV now, Mom? Kathleen asked.

One show, Sinead said. And that’s it.

She sighed and poked at her lukewarm meal as the girls pounded away. The sauteed chicken and slow-cooked vegetables had come out well, she thought. Cooking was