This time, in my second Mom Squad Mini-Mayhem Mystery Short Story...
Licensed For Love on Amazon
Licensed For Love on B&N Nook
Licensed For Love on Smashwords
***Note: I'll give you the Amazon and Nook links as soon as they're live!!! :) ***
The Mom Squad Mini-Mayhem Mysteries are a unique treat for both new readers and seasoned fans of my Bootscootin’ & Cozy Cash Mystery Books! They're short story-sized peeks into my collection of interconnected books.
In Licensed For Love, think Roz Focker of Meet the Fockers as The Terminator’s new Sarah Connor – partnered with - Cliff the Mailman from Cheers.
Each Mom Squad Mini-Mayhem Mystery (short story) features at least one of The Mom Squad quirky-crazy, blue-haired Charlie's Angels wanna-be's!
You'll get to meet their extended families plus learn the unique skill each Mom Squad Member has been trained-to by The Cozy Cash Mysteries' Quarter Master R.
LICENSED FOR LOVE – Mom Squad Mini-Mayhem Mystery #2 - features Jules’ Aunt Tulip, who rumor has it, is now not just a sex therapist, but also a femme fatale.
She’s licensed on all-things-love plus licensed to kill. And guess what? It’s hunting season...
Here's a Sneak Peek Excerpt:
I pulled the bundle of mail from the mailbox and flipped through the stack.
Nothing out of the ordinary – bill, junk, bill, Psychology Today magazine, and a renewal notice for my membership in AASECT, the American Association of Sexuality Educators, Counselors and Therapists.
To me, AASECT has always sounded like some insect name, not a pleasant acronym of a professional organization for sex therapists.
But “out of the ordinary” and insects describes more than my mail, it describes my current life, where everything is far away from my norm and quite frankly, bugging me.
I’m Dr. Telaine Patricia Cohen, your basic Rosalind “Roz” Focker, Barbara Streisand-portrayed Sex Therapist. I moved to Nashville, Tennessee – AKA Music City - after falling in love with it while visiting my niece, Jules Lichtenstien, who you probably already know, is Music City’s new cupcake boutique queen and also a caterer to the stars.
But I didn’t just fall in love with the city. I also fell hard for one of its letter carriers.
For the past four months, I’ve been living with Jules’ prosthetic-eared mailman, Ben. And although I adore the guy, I’m still trying to remember why I agreed to move in with him.
Our relationship could definitely use a match to re-ignite the spark that originally attracted us.
Ben’s spark had been his penchant for fun. He may not be able to hear very well, but the guy’s got the Midas Touch when it comes to over-the-top spectacular, seeing stars in the bedroom moves.
But after glancing at the deer on the cover of his latest sportsman’s catalog, I had a revelation. Fun with your live-in was evidently out of season. Hunting, however, was in-season, meaning girlfriends and/or wives were out.
I know what you all are thinking. And yes, I’m a “therapist”. A therapist who now needs a therapist. Why? Because, let me tell you something. At Yale, they don’t teach you how to deal with becoming a hunting widow.
My cell phone rang and temporarily shook me out of my life funk.
I glanced at the display. No surprise.
I’d actually taken the phone with me to the mailbox because it was time for Ben to be fighting interstate traffic on his way home from the post office. He always called me to estimate his arrival for dinner.
Evidently, hunting season didn’t rob a man of his appetite for food...just his appetite for love.
“Hey, baby.” Ben’s voice sounded muffled from the hands-free system in his SUV. “I should be home in about half an hour.”
“Do we have any plans for tomorrow?”
In Ben-speak that meant he did.
I took a deep breath and forced a pleasant response. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, a couple of the guys want to head to the woods because deer season starts tomorrow. Is it okay if I go?”
“Fine with me,” I said, with a bit more zip to my voice than I’d originally intended.
I normally deplored Ben’s little-boy way of asking for a kitchen pass. But his request to hunt, coupled with the catalog cover had given me an idea.
Maybe I hadn’t lost my multiple-award-winning therapist’s touch. Suddenly, I had an epiphany and knew just what to do to shake up our waaay too cozy – and boring - love nest.
So it was big-game season, huh?
Well, too bad.
I wasn’t about to spend our four-month anniversary – the fruit and flowers one – alone. Ben would be hunting, all right, but not the prey he planned on. The only permit he was about to be issued was his live-in’s license for love.
I’d teach him that the fifth anniversary we’d be celebrating next month, one I’m sure he planned to live to talk about, wasn’t the only one with “wood” involved.
And yes, I know that technically, you count anniversaries in years, not months. But I’ve always coached my patients to celebrate every day, every week, and every month of their relationships. I’d simply forgotten to make good on my own therapeutic recommendations.
With only half an hour to work, I had to move fast.
Sexy Sassy Smart D. D. Scott-ville Mom Squad Wishes --- D. D. Scott