You can’t have three country chicks without a storm brewing.
“We kissed under the sprinklers because the ocean was too far and the moment was too right.”
That title sounds like the premise for a high-energy, tongue-in-cheek summer anthem beach-read novella
A summer storm rolled in—the kind that turns the sky purple and makes the air feel electric. The power went out. I was in the barn, checking on a mare that was due to foal, when the door slid open.
She slipped into the water slowly, and I followed. The pond was cold, but her skin was fire. She wrapped her legs around my waist and let out a soft moan that got swallowed by the cicadas. She wasn’t loud like Daisy. Savannah was a secret—a slow, deep, drowning kind of pleasure.
GROUP STRENGTH