Table of Contents
Synopsis
Praise for Meghan O’Brien
By the Author
Acknowledgments
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
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
About the Author
Other Meghan O’Brien Titles Available Via Amazon
Books Available from Bold Strokes Books
Synopsis
Erotica author Kate McMannis has crippling writer’s block and a deadline in less than two months. When a beautiful woman named Erato appears at her house and claims to be her muse, Kate isn’t certain whether Erato is mentally ill or truly her supernatural savior. Either way, when the incredible sex Erato offers leads to genuine inspiration, Kate isn’t inclined to refuse her unusual brand of help. When a little fantasy fulfillment with Erato inadvertently leads her to the shy and gorgeous Olive Johnson, unexpected feelings threaten to derail Kate’s motivation once again. Erato is just as determined to keep her writing on track as Kate is to explore her very real attraction to Olive—which leads to friction that threatens not only Kate’s ability to meet her deadline, but also her burgeoning romance with Olive. Caught between a contractual obligation and her heart, is there any way for Kate to have it all?
Praise for Meghan O’Brien
O’Brien “knows how to write passion really well, and I do not recommend reading her books in public (unless you want everyone to know exactly what you are reading). Wild is no different. It’s very steamy, and the sex scenes are frequent and quite erotic, to say the least.”—Lesbian Book Review
“Meghan O’Brien has given her readers some very steamy scenes in this fast paced novel. Thirteen Hours is definitely a walk on the wild side, which may have you looking twice at those with whom you share an elevator.”—Just About Write
“Boy, if there was ever fiction that a lesbian needs during a bed death rut or simply in need of some juicing up, Thirteen Hours by Meghan O’Brien is the book I’d recommend to my good friends…If you are looking for good ole American instant gratification, simple and not-at all-straight sexy lesbian eroticism, revel in the sexiness that is Thirteen Hours.”—Tilted World
“In The Three by Meghan O’Brien, we are treated to first-rate storytelling that features scorching love scenes with three main characters…She hits her stride well in The Three with a well-paced plot that never slows. She excels at giving us an astounding tale that is tightly written and extremely sensual. I highly recommend this unique book.”—Just About Write
The Muse
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The Muse
© 2015 By Meghan O’Brien. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-280-9
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: June 2015
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Shelley Thrasher
Production Design: Stacia Seaman
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
By the Author
Infinite Loop
The Three
Thirteen Hours
Battle Scars
Wild
The Night Off
The Muse
Acknowledgments
I want to once again thank Shelley Thrasher for being such a kind and amazing editor. You’ve never been anything but supportive and amazing, and I appreciate all the ways you’ve helped me become a better writer. To my wife, Angie, for allowing me to retreat into my made-up worlds whenever necessary—I appreciate it, even though I know it must get lonely. To my sister Kathleen, because. And to my parents, again, who (again) should never, ever read this book.
To all the writers, and the readers who keep us going
Chapter One
Kate McMannis sat back in her office chair with an epic sigh of self-loathing. She’d stupidly checked the time after watching what had to be her thirtieth cat video in a row. Despite scheduling eight solid hours to write today, she’d already squandered half of them. Damn the Internet. How was she supposed to get anything done with an entire world of cuteness and hilarity at her fingertips? Not to mention news websites. Without sitting up straight, she reached for her mouse and clicked one of her permanent bookmarks. The day’s headlines washed over her—most familiar from her previous twenty check-ins—and she almost longed for some catastrophe to shake up the boredom of her afternoon.
She should be working on her novel. Every minute her deadline drew nearer. She had less than two months to finish her latest work-in-progress. While it wasn’t unprecedented for her to whip out a novel-length romance or erotica story in sixty days or fewer, she felt no closer to inspiration than she had the day before, or the week before, or even two months before. Paralyzed by writer’s block, she couldn’t manage to cobble together more than a few paragraphs in a sitting. She still had nine hundred words to go before reaching the twelve-thousand-word mark—and that had taken her months to achieve. Unfortunately, it represented only a fraction of the eighty thousand words she was obligated to deliver.
Kate glanced at the empty document titled “Chapter Four” that had been taunting her for days. Why the hell was this one so difficult? This wasn’t her first novel. She’d published several others. Another unpublished novel-length work had poured out of her over the course of months—years, technically—and she’d never given up on it despite never receiving a dime for its completion. Yet now she couldn’t seem to wrangle a seed of a good story out of her head and onto the screen despite the contractual obligation looming over her.
Why?
Grunting in frustration, Kate kicked back from her desk and walked to the kitchen. Maybe she needed a glass of lemonade. Or a snack. Granted, months of lemonade and snacks hadn’t yet loosened the masterpiece lurking within, but who knew? Today a snack break might solve all her problems.
She surveyed her nearly empty refrigerator and let out a tired groan. No lemonade. No hummus, either. Obviously she needed to go to the grocery store. This was a legitimate excuse to run an errand, but she had been on the verge of actually accomplishing something. And now this. No wonder she was getting nowhere fast.
“Well, damn.” A grocery run would obviously eat up at least another hour of her work time. Annoyed but resigned, she scooped her purse off the counter and left behind her dreams of whipping out a thousand words by lunchtime.
When she open
ed her front door, she couldn’t stifle a gasp upon discovering an exceedingly attractive woman of apparently Mediterranean origin standing with her fist poised to knock. The stranger held a cloth grocery bag in her free hand. Another full-to-bursting sack of groceries sat at her feet, along with a zippered travel bag. She met Kate’s no-doubt ridiculous expression of surprise with a wide, beaming smile.
“May I come in?”
Kate nearly stepped back to let her inside, no questions asked, before regaining some semblance of rationality. “Who are you?”
“My name is Erato.” The woman bowed deeply, scooping up the bags at her side. “I come bearing lunch. And lemonade.”
Erato strolled through the front door, and Kate moved aside as though she had extended an invitation. She was almost positive she hadn’t. “I appreciate that, but…I’m sorry, who are you?”
Erato set the grocery bags on the wooden island in the center of the kitchen and began to unload items. She handed over a large container of Kate’s favorite brand of lemonade. “I’m a muse. Put this away, would you?”
She did as the woman asked, trying to decide if she’d heard correctly. “A muse? You’re amused?”
Erato chuckled. “I am now.” She pulled out a container of hummus—once again, Kate’s favorite brand—and set it on the counter. Then she took Kate’s hands and squeezed them gently. “No, Kate McMannis, I’m your muse. You’re blocked, in a big way. Worse than ever before.” She broke into a grin so radiant Kate had to return it, her heart pounding that the most exquisite woman she’d ever seen was holding her hands. “And I’m here to help you finish that book.”
Chapter Two
“Help?” A horrible thought occurred. “Wait, did my publisher send you?”
Erato’s laughter was as rich and warm as her touch. “No, don’t worry. I’m a freelancer.” She shot Kate a playful wink that weakened her knees. “This is between you and me.”
Kate frowned. “That sounds expensive.”
“Not at all.” Turning back to the groceries, Erato opened a package of pita bread and turned the oven on low. “My compensation is the sensual, erotic story you’ll create. The beauty of the words you’ll choose.” She poured one glass of lemonade, then another, then put the second container of lemonade inside the fridge beside the first. “The emotions you’ll stir in your readers. That’s all the thanks I need.”
Clearly this woman was a lunatic. A strangely flattering idea began to form, one more than a little unsettling. “Does that mean you’re a fan?”
“Your stories are lovely, Kate. Just lovely.”
Hardly effusive praise, coming from an obviously obsessive stalker. Who else would track her down and present herself as Kate McMannis’s own personal muse? Kate edged toward the knife block, images of Kathy Bates in Misery flashing through her mind. “Why do you assume I’m blocked?”
“Because it’s my job to know these things and help those who need it.” She put a couple of pieces of pita bread on a baking sheet and slid it into the oven. “And honey, let’s be honest. You need my help, do you not?”
“Okay…” Now standing next to her full collection of cutlery, Kate wondered whether to brandish one and demand that the woman leave. She hadn’t done anything overtly threatening yet—except be crazy, of course—and she had brought groceries. “Who told you I was having trouble?”
“Nobody had to tell me. I’ve felt it for weeks now—and I can’t take it anymore!” Erato leaned against the counter and folded her arms under her generous breasts. “The angst, the self-loathing, the worrying about your deadline. If only you could channel all the energy that you put into self-flagellation toward your novel, you wouldn’t need me at all.”
Defensive in the face of such judgment from a total stranger, Kate said, “Who says I need you now?”
“If I walked out the door right this minute, you’d go back to your computer and write something?”
Kate didn’t answer, somehow knowing Erato would call her out for lying. “How exactly do you plan to help me?”
“To start, by making you lunch.” Erato pulled the tray of now-warm pita bread from the oven, which let Kate admire her form-fitting red dress. The skirt clung to her utterly delicious ass, tantalizing Kate with the promise of what lay beneath. Erato’s dark hair came to just below her ears, cut in a bob that straddled the line between adorable and sexy with head-spinning ease. Standing in the middle of her kitchen fixing her favorite snack, the woman was heaven personified.
Had Kate fallen asleep or hit her head while showering? Whether this was a dream or a delusion, she just hoped it ended in sex. She drank some lemonade to hide her lascivious smirk.
Erato flashed her a white-toothed grin. “Let’s wait until after we eat. You’ll need your energy.”
She nearly choked on the tart liquid. Surely she hadn’t voiced her dirty thoughts aloud. “Pardon?”
“You want to make love with me.” Erato cut the pita bread into wedges, then put them on a plate and pushed them across the counter. “It’s a wonderful idea. That usually helps the creative juices flow. But you need sustenance before we begin.”
For the first time in her life, Kate pinched herself to check that she was awake. And…she was. So either this gorgeous, free-spirited woman was a lunatic fan, or else she was involved in some shenanigans designed to make Kate look foolish. Who would pull such a stunt? Her best friend? Her sister?
She couldn’t imagine any of her friends and family coming up with something like this to break her out of writer’s block. Or to make fun of her for being mired in it. Kate frowned. She had to get to the bottom of this, because she was way too tempted to see if Erato would actually go upstairs with her. Sleeping with this woman was almost certainly a bad idea. But she had to know for sure before she would feel comfortable brandishing a knife or calling the police. Or turning her down.
“I am harmless,” Erato said smoothly, once again seeming to pick up on her thoughts with ease. “Promise.”
Kate tried to quiet her internal narrative, just in case. But Erato couldn’t read her mind—could she? Covering, she ate a couple bites of pita and hummus while she searched for what to say next. “I just don’t understand where you came from.”
“Greece, originally.”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Yes, I get it. Muse. Erato. From Greece.” Whoever this woman was, she was clearly stuck deeply in her delusion. Kate took another bite of hummus anyway, because damn, it was delicious. “So why visit me?”
“Why not you?” Erato scooped some hummus onto a piece of pita and took a bite. Her moan of pleasure sent the most obscene fantasies racing through Kate’s mind, which she tried desperately to quiet on the off chance her visitor really could read her thoughts. Erato smiled broadly. “Listen, I’ll leave if you want me to. Just ask. I’ll walk out that door and never bother you again. But if you let me stay, I’ll do my best to…inspire you.”
Though this was absolutely insane, Kate was unable to eject Erato from her life. She seemed harmless enough, after all. And hot. Very hot. No risk in at least sharing a snack with her, right?
“I sense you’re having second thoughts about making love.” Erato tilted her head and regarded Kate curiously. “We can just fuck, if that’s more your style. But one way or another, it’s a good idea to end as many dry spells in your life as possible. It’s how we’ll get the words flowing again.” She walked around the counter to stand within touching distance. “No reason to be shy.”
Kate fisted her hands at her sides. Damn, she was tempted. Was Erato unbalanced? Did it even matter if she was, when she was the hands-down sexiest woman Kate had ever had the opportunity to sleep with? “I’ve just never jumped into bed with someone so quickly.”
Erato chuckled. “Your characters do.”
“Because they’re fictional.”
“Surely you’re projecting your own fantasies onto them.” She traced her fingertip over Kate’s wrist, then dragged a blunt nail up the
inside of her arm. “Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted sex with a stranger.” Erato’s fingers closed around her bicep, and Kate instantly became wet. “Or imagined being taken up to your bedroom by someone you aren’t certain you should trust.”
Kate shivered. “I don’t even know you—”
“Take this leap with me, Kate. It’ll be worth it.”
Unsure whether it was the deep conviction in Erato’s voice or simply the prospect of bedding a woman who put most supermodels to shame, Kate let go of her reservations and leapt. It wasn’t like she’d get any writing done today, anyway. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Chapter Three
They had only to cross the threshold of her bedroom for Kate to lose her nerve. The incredible sexual fantasy she’d enjoyed downstairs in the kitchen evaporated into cold reality at the sight of yesterday’s dirty panties lying on the floor beside her bed. What the hell was she thinking? She wasn’t prepared to host a woman. Her legs weren’t even shaved. She’d been holed up in her apartment for weeks, doing a whole lot of nothing while pretending to chase her ever-elusive word count. This had involved plenty of sleeping, masturbating, and eating, but not as much personal hygiene as she’d normally practice when actually preparing to have sex with another person.
And then there was the little matter of Erato being slightly south of sane—
“Would you like to freshen up?” A soft hand touched the small of her back, startling her. “I did just drop in on you suddenly.”
This was the perfect opportunity to back out of the most unusual sexual encounter she’d ever considered pursuing. Sleeping with a most-likely mentally ill—but possibly supernatural—woman really was the kind of thing one of her characters might do. Unfortunately, for all the erotic adventures she’d imagined for her stories, she’d never come close to experiencing anything much out of the ordinary in real life. The wildest thing she’d ever done was a little public sex with her college girlfriend. And nothing too public—the threat of discovery had always been enough to get them off. She’d never even had a one-night stand.
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