Shelley Munro, Author of Contemporary and Paranormal Erotic Romance

“You need a man. Do you see anyone you like the look of? Someone sexy for a naughty fling.”

“I don’t want a man. And I don’t need a one-night stand.” Lisa Jordan scanned the packed marquee while trying not to dwell on her sister’s outrageous suggestion.

Groups of men and women laughed and chatted and danced together. Rumor said the Middlemarch elders hoped the ball would attract women to the district. They wanted the female sex to distract the male feline shifters from mischief. If it was true, the plan was working because everywhere she turned, smiles and flirtation abounded.

Her right foot tapped in time with the rockin’ tune the band played. David had loved to dance. A pang shot through her—bittersweet rather than agonized as it had once been.

Sweetheart, you have to move on. Charlotte is right—you do need a fling.

Lisa forced a smile as she continued scrutinizing the area, searching for childhood friends and familiar faces. David’s ghostly voice was becoming increasingly pushy, urging her to move on after his unexpected illness and death. And she would—in her own time.

Why do I need a fling? I have the vibe you bought me. It works perfectly well. Besides one-night stands are tacky.

David’s sexy chuckle echoed through her mind. But they feel good. Remember when we met?

Oh yeah. She remembered. Heat flooded her cheeks as she recalled leaving the party only two hours after initial introductions. They’d gone straight to her apartment and spent the rest of the weekend in bed. Their one-night stand had led to love and marriage. Lisa scowled. Point taken, but lightning never strikes in the same place twice.

A husky, masculine laugh snared her attention, and she let her gaze drift in that direction. A muscular body clad from head to foot in black. Her eyes scanned his length and came to rest on a tight butt. A tingle sprang to life, sinking downward in time with her gaze to settle in her pussy. She shifted her weight, aware of her red dress and lacy panties clinging to her skin. “Wow, I’d like to sink my teeth into his ass,” she murmured. “Clothing optional.” The words popped out of her mouth unbidden and she gasped in consternation.

The ghost of David sniggered along with her sister Charlotte.

“I could introduce you.” A mischievous note entered Charlotte’s voice, alerting Lisa to a pitfall.

“He’s married,” she said. “There’s something wrong with him. That look on your face is a giveaway. His rear end is false advertising. He’s old with buck teeth and dyed hair. A toupee.”

“The front view is just as sexy,” Charlotte reassured her.

The man turned and Lisa slapped her hand over her open mouth, but not before an eep of shock escaped. “Sam Mitchell. Oh my god, I feel like a dirty old woman.”