Blurb:
When lonely insurance
broker, Bailey, gets himself a new hobby, he ends up exchanging letters with a
war zone. But he’s not expecting what happens next…
Bailey Hodgkiss is lonely and dissatisfied with his boring
life as an insurance broker. In an attempt to insert some variety, he signs up
to a website to write to serving soldiers. He’s put in touch with Corporal Nick
Rock, and over the course of a couple of letters, the two of them strike up a
friendship. They begin to divulge their secrets, including their preference for
men.
Nick encourages Bailey to add more interests to his life. As
a result, Bailey picks up his forgotten hobby, photography, and quickly decides
to team it up with his other preferred interest, travel.
Booking a holiday to Rome is his biggest gesture towards a
more exciting existence, and he eagerly looks forward to the trip. That is,
until Nick says he’s coming home on leave, and it looks as though their
respective trips will prevent them from meeting in person. Is there enough of a
spark between them to push them to meet, or will their relationship remain on
paper only?
*****
Excerpt:
After clicking all the available links on the website to
find out more about it, Bailey decided to go ahead and sign up. He’d never know
what it was really like unless he gave it a go.
He’d read about the site in an article somewhere, about how
it linked people with serving soldiers, pilots, marines and sailors in order to
write to them. It had been proven that receiving mail—even from someone they
didn’t know—improved military morale. It sounded like a damn good use of time
to Bailey, and it would be interesting, too.
He began typing his details into the online form. Of course,
the chances were that he’d be paired up with a man, given the ratio of males to
females in the forces. It didn’t matter, though. He could still exchange
letters with a guy, become friends. It seemed like such an old-school way to
communicate with someone, given how technology had come on over the years, but
at least it was different. Perhaps it would give him something in his life to
look forward to, something other than getting up, showering, going to work,
coming home, eating, watching television and going to bed. The watching
television—and even the eating—were occasionally replaced by nights out with
friends or seeing family. Weekends were spent cleaning, washing clothes,
gardening and odd jobs. Dull stuff, in other words.
He had an utterly mundane life, and Bailey knew it. It
wasn’t even as if his job was exciting. Insurance broking was hardly thrilling,
game-changing, or going to save the world. He didn’t expect having a pen pal to
change his entire life, but it would certainly break the monotony. Hopefully.
He went through the various steps to fill in his details and
create a profile, then continued right through to the information on actually
writing and sending the letters. It looked straightforward enough.
His mind made up, Bailey immediately went in search of a
pen, some nice paper and an envelope. Armed with a print out of exactly what to
do when the letter was finished, he settled down at the kitchen table.
Instantly, his mind went blank. What the fuck was he meant to say? He didn’t
know any soldiers or other military personnel, didn’t know anything about their
lives, other than there was a great deal more to it than shooting people and
being shot at. His own existence was so fucking boring that he didn’t want to
write about it. Unless there were any insomniacs in Afghanistan—telling them
about his day would solve that particular condition right away.
After chewing on his biro until it broke, covering his lips
and chin with ink, Bailey replaced it, resolving to try harder. He’d tell his
pen pal the bare essentials about himself, then ask lots of questions about
them and their work. That was bound to rustle up some conversation.
That decided, he began to write, absentmindedly swiping at his
inky skin with a tissue. He’d have to scrub it off when he was done with the
note. His wrist and hand had begun to ache before he was halfway down the page.
He rolled his eyes. He sat on his arse at a desk all day, using a computer. As
a result, even writing something short by hand was hard work! There was no way
he was going to divulge that particular piece of information to someone that
was willing to lay down their life to protect their country.
He just about managed to fill a single side of the A5-sized
paper. And that was only because he’d formed large letters and spaced his words
and lines out plenty. But he tried not to worry—at least he’d finished it, his
first letter to a war zone.
He read through it carefully, relieved to find no mistakes.
He’d forgotten how much more difficult—and messy—errors were on the written
page. Computers let you edit and rewrite to your heart’s content. No correction
fluid or crossings-out necessary.
Finally, he addressed the envelope. It felt like the longest
address ever. The area and country was bad enough, even without including the
soldier’s name and BFPO address. But it was done—Bailey Hodgkiss had penned a
missive to Corporal Nick Rock, currently stationed at Camp Bastion, Helmand
Province, Afghanistan.
Now he’d just have to post it and wait for a reply. The
website had said his missive would take between one and three weeks to reach
Corporal Rock. Then he had to allow for time for him to read it and send a
reply. It could be around six weeks before he heard anything. If he heard
anything at all.
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Author Bio:
Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and
erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100
publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several
editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women's Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic
Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and
co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house.
She owns Erotica For All, and is book
editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join
her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her
newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9
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