Mended Hearts: A Box Set

By Katherine E Hunt

FROM EXCITING ROMANCE AUTHOR KATHERINE E HUNT

The Mended Hearts series

Liberating Jane

A widow' s eyes open to a whole new way of loving when she moves to a gated community, but will one man be enough for her newfound appetite for life?

Kendra's Keeper

When Ethan, her childhood sweetheart, turns up on her doorstep, Kendra must learn to love or risk losing him once again.

Sarah's Secret

Sarah has a secret. She' s on the run from some very nasty men. Can she find love— and herself— before her past catches up with her?

Joy to Jane

It' s not all stockings and stuffing when Jane' s three lovers turn up at her door on Christmas Eve.

The Mended Hearts series follows the women of Winchester Drive, Massachusetts. To all appearances a seemingly perfect suburban neighbourhood, this close-knit community hides a sizzling secret.

Members of a very private club, reserved for widows of all ages, the ladies enjoy the company of a group of young, handsome men, willing to see to their every need.

Liberated and confident, no man can resist them, whether it' s behind the red velvet curtains of their secret society or in their everyday lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
• Release date: Jan 2, 2024
• ISBN: 9781802508772

Book preview

Totally Bound Publishing books by Katherine E Hunt

Mended Hearts

Liberating Jane

Kendra’s Keeper

Sarah’s Secret

Joy to Jane

Sag Harbor

The Billionaire and the Princess

MENDED HEARTS

Liberating Jane

Kendra’s Keeper

Sarah’s Secret

Joy to Jane

KATHERINE E HUNT

Mended Hearts

ISBN # 978-1-80250-877-2

©Copyright Katherine E Hunt 2020

Cover Art by Claire Siemaszkiewicz ©Copyright August 2020

Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz

Totally Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

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The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2024 by Totally Bound Publishing, United Kingdom.

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LIBERATING JANE

Book one in the Mended Hearts series

A widow’s eyes open to a whole new way of loving when she moves to a gated community, but will one man be enough for her newfound appetite for life?

When Jane, a wealthy young widow, complains of her sexual frustration in her online support group, she gets a little more than she bargained for. Beverly, another widow, suggests that what Jane really needs is a change of scene, and she knows just the place.

Within a month, Jane has sold her house in Florida and moved upstream to Winchester Drive, an expensive gated community in Massachusetts. On the outside, it looks like anywhere else, but this charming seaside community holds myriad secrets.

With a mysterious sex club, a very helpful workforce and a new psychology professor who’s just moved in around the block, this place has more than enough men to help Jane move to the next phase of her grieving process.

All she wanted was a little sexual relief, but she gets way more than she bargained for. Jane must move on from her past, learn what she really wants from the new men in her life and find a way to make it work so that everybody gets their happily ever after.

Dedication

To my friend Courtney who knew this is exactly where I should be.

Trademark Acknowledgements

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Tinder: Match Group, LLC

Ambien: SANOFI

Zoloft: Pfizer, Inc.

Jacuzzi: Jacuzzi, Inc.

Botox: Allergan, Inc.

Netflix: Netflix, Inc.

Uber: Uber Technologies, Inc. 

Jack Daniel’s: Jack Daniel’s Properties, Inc.

Grease: Woodward, Bronte

James Bond: Fleming, Ian

Stepford Wives: Levin, Ira

Cleopatra: Mankiewicz, Joseph L.; MacDougall, Ranald

War and Peace: Tolstoy, Leo

Chapter One

My hands were shaking. I’m sorry. I was talking to the guy splayed out in front of me, but more importantly to my dead husband, whose ghost was probably floating around the room in bemusement right now.

I could almost hear the lighthearted derision in his voice as he berated me. ‘I tell you to move on after I’m gone and you find some guy off Tinder?’ I wanted to tell him that getting over him was fucking impossible, that no man could ever fill his shoes, but you see, that’s the problem with dead people—they’re never around when you need to talk.

Do you want to stop? asked the very horny, very down-to-fuck, very not dead man in my bed.

No. Please, I do want this. I did. I really, truly wanted this guy to fuck me senseless. It was just, well, awkward. This bed hadn’t seen a man since David died and frankly it was weirding me out a little. I needed to stop messing about and get on with it. Get back on the bike or the horse, or in this case the huge dick.

I unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it open, scraping my nails across his chest, just enough to make him wince. Beverly’s advice was perfect—getting your nails done for a date was a solid plan. I felt a lot less like a soccer mom and more like a sexy little minx. The buttons on his jeans popped open with ease, releasing him. I hadn’t needed to take them off to see what I was dealing with—the bulge in his pants left nothing to the imagination—but holy cocksuckers, people, I was not disappointed with the beast I’d freed.

Like what you see, huh? he said, waving it in my face. I bent down to inspect it further. Straight as a die. As impeccably groomed as the rest of his body. I gave it a lick, just a tiny taste. Hmmm. Okay. I popped my mouth on, just to see. It fitted perfectly. A match made in heaven. His hands settled onto my head, gripping the roots of my hair, but the glare I threw him sent them scurrying away.

My terms—that was what we had agreed on. If we did it, we did it my way or not at all. I lifted my head. You got protection?

Do I need it? I mean, aren’t you on the pill or something?

What? I’m a fucking widow.

You’re right, sorry. I’m just used to, you know, younger women—they’re always up for a bit of bareback.

Jesus Christ. He smiled and winked at me. Pathetic. I took a deep breath and thought of the orgasms.

You can do this, Jane—just one quick fuck and you never have to see him again.

He handed me a condom. I slowly ripped it open with my teeth and slid it down on to his dick. It had been a while, but I still had it. Next thing to be sliding down that dick would be me and I couldn’t wait any longer. It had been eight endless months since my husband had dearly departed this earth and, damn it, a woman has needs.

I climbed up his body and slid right down onto him. No need for foreplay—I’d practically come in my pants when he kissed me outside the restaurant.

Maybe I was seventeen and virginal once again. Or maybe he just had a big dick. Whatever the reason, I was tightly wrapped around him and it was amazing.

This wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

I rode up and down on him just long enough to tire the muscles in my legs—about thirty seconds, to be honest, I hadn’t exactly been hitting the gym lately—then rolled us over, pulling his hand onto my clit as we went.

Make me come, I cried and prepared to be nailed into oblivion but he jerked and squealed a little, then flopped down onto me.

Fuck, that was awesome.

But… But my orgasm, you dickwad.

I think, no, I know it. I love you, Jane. Then, no word of a lie, he started to cry. I peeled him off me and mumbled something about needing a shower. Shit. He was in my house. How was I going to get him to leave? I thanked Madonna, the patron saint of sexual liberation, for having had the foresight to sell my house a few days before this disaster of a date. I’d soon be moving up the country to Massachusetts, as far away from this idiot as the moving truck could take me.

I headed downstairs, served myself a large bourbon, neat, and switched on my laptop. I clicked on my social media page, entered my password and started to type, ‘Fuck it ladies, you are never going to believe what just happened.’

* * * *

It hadn’t even been an hour, probably more like forty-five minutes before the casseroles started arriving. I’d read about it in the welcome pack that Beverly had been kind enough to email me, but the sheer amplitude of the visitors to my door was overwhelming to say the least.

This time it was three impeccably coiffed women in their early thirties who were hovering on my doorstep with a huge basket of carbs. The gentle warmth of the Cape Cod summer, far from the sweltering Florida heat I’d come from, relieved me of any obligation to invite them in.

Hi, I’m Sally, this is Kendra and Barb. We were put in charge of desserts, so I made you some of my famous muffins.

Thank you. I did what I thought probably looked like a smile. I’d taken an Ambien about half an hour ago, in the hope of getting in an afternoon nap before I needed to start unpacking, but clearly life had other plans. I could be naked in front of them right now and have no idea.

I should’ve invited them in—that would’ve been the polite thing to do—but the couch was still wrapped from the move. I didn’t even know where my dining room chairs were and, quite frankly, I just couldn’t give a shit about being polite on moving day. I know what you’re thinking, but don’t you dare invite us in, we know exactly what it’s like to move here alone. Trust me, you’re going to need a good couple of days to get yourself sorted. Thank you for small mercies. I honestly couldn’t cope with chitchat at the moment. Sleep had evaded me for, well, months and I’d rather poke my eyes out with sticks than make nice with strangers.

David had always been the one who had answered the door, dealt with people. I was more than happy to be the strong, silent woman behind the man. Until there was no man. And I was no longer strong. He’d been in my life since we were seventeen. Young love and an unexpected pregnancy had thrown us in the deep end, but I hadn’t regretted it for a second, not even when his ailing body had failed him and I’d given up everything to spend the last year of his life nursing him twenty-four hours a day.

We’re having a little ladies’ night on Saturday. Now, I know you’re new and you don’t know anybody yet, but you just have to come. Barb here is making margaritas and Beverly is setting us up a projector in the backyard. Romcoms and cocktails, it’ll be a blast. Promise me you’ll come.

Oh well, I don’t really…

Just give it a try. Kendra’s voice was quieter and more restrained than Sally’s. She gave me a smile that said ‘I hate it too, but we have to do this kind of thing’ and I knew exactly what she meant. For the last nine months, the whole world had been telling me I needed to go out, socialize, meet new people. That was how I’d ended up here in the first place. A widow’s group on social media. When it came to selling the house, one of the girls had suggested Winchester Drive, and here I was. A gated community in a respectable part of the state. House prices were high, but this place was special. Over half of the homeowners were widows. Cougar Town, my son had called it when I’d announced my move.

I would love to, thank you, ladies, that sounds really nice.

I closed the door and plonked down on the stairs. When I’d told the group that I was looking at a house on Winchester Drive I must have gotten over thirty new friend requests, plus an invitation to a more private group called the Winchester Widows.

They’d convinced me to stay more than anything else. No pressure to find a new husband. No shame in being a miserable bitch in public. Wear black, they’d said, or hot pink or whatever the fuck you want. Weep loudly, party hard, drink a little too much or not at all. The WWs accepted your grief however the hell you wanted to do it and they didn’t judge you an ounce.

Plus, I thought as I bit into Sally’s muffins, they made damn good desserts. That, my friend, is exactly what the doctor ordered.

Chapter Two

Saturday came around so quickly that I’d hardly had time to get anything done. I don’t know what the hell they put in the food around here, but I’d slept like a log.

Saying that, from what I’d seen of the people in my neighborhood, the filtered and reused tap water around here would most certainly be around seventy percent Zoloft. It was like a remake of the Stepford Wives where the husbands had all mysteriously disappeared. When you think that the majority of them had supposedly lost the love of their life, well, they all seemed pretty cheery about it.

I wasn’t at that stage yet. The smile that was etched onto my face since I’d been here was so fake it would make a beauty queen weep. Barb greeted me at the door, shoved a drink into my hand and led me through to the garden. Honey, I am so glad you came. She put down her drink and clapped her hands above her head. Y’all, ladies, look, this is Jane, she just moved here from Florida.

She displayed me like a game show hostess, her hands waving up and down at me as if I was today’s showcase special.

There must have been at least thirty women if not more. All ages, ethnicities. They clapped and cheered and came over to greet me. Some of them I’d met on my doorstep or said ‘hi’ to in the street, but others were completely new to me. One thing they all had in common was their absolute delight at my presence and their insistence that I was just going to love it here.

What the hell is so great about Winchester Drive? In the daytime, this place was about as respectable as upper-middle-class rich America gets. Kids had live-in nannies. Husbands drove cars that cost as much as a house and their wives lunched and shopped and did charity work. Apart from that, though, it felt soulless, devoid of any character or charm.

I wasn’t from this world, as such. David, my husband, was the one who came from money. We’d come to an agreement a few years ago. I’d work, we’d live in a nice area—certainly not a gated community like this—and I would play the doting wife when his job or his family required it. I shut my mouth when his family discussed how difficult it was to get good ‘domestics’ and I tried not to shudder when his friends spent ridiculous amounts of cash on their mistresses.

Now he was gone and I’d found myself here, exactly the kind of place he’d always dreamed of living. Oh, the irony.

Except, if I’m being honest, this place wasn’t quite the same. The women at this party weren’t backstabbing housewives like the ones on reality TV. They weren’t the mean girls I’d expected. They were loud, brash, open to all kinds of subjects. I’d only been here an hour or so and three women had stripped off down to their bikinis and were avidly discussing blowjob techniques in the Jacuzzi. That is to say, they were in the Jacuzzi discussing blowjobs, although, from the sound of their heated discussion, they probably held an opinion on combining one with the other too.

You’re wondering what the hell’s going on, aren’t you? It was Kendra, the quiet woman from the other day. She was petite, waiflike and pale. Like a pixie.

Yes. I didn’t quite expect…this.

I left my first girls’ night in tears after five minutes. I don’t know. I thought it would be more civilized, everyone sitting around talking about how sad they were now their husbands were dead. I thought they didn’t care, that they weren’t sad like I was.

That’s kinda what it looks like.