Secrets of the Heart Read online

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  Acclaim for Radclyffe’s Fiction

  Applause for L.L. Raand’s Midnight Hunters Series

  By Radclyffe

  Secrets of the Heart

  About the Author

  Books Available From Bold Strokes Books

  Secrets of the Heart

  Two BFFs decide to spend Valentine's Day together and discover the true love they've been seeking in all the wrong places.

  Previously published in The Perfect Valentine, ed. T. Szymanski and B. Johnson (Bella Books, 2006).

  Acclaim for Radclyffe’s Fiction

  In Prescription for Love “Radclyffe populates her small town with colorful characters, among the most memorable being Flann’s little sister, Margie, and Abby’s 15-year-old trans son, Blake…This romantic drama has plenty of heart and soul.”—Publishers Weekly

  2013 RWA/New England Bean Pot award winner for contemporary romance Crossroads “will draw the reader in and make her heart ache, willing the two main characters to find love and a life together. It’s a story that lingers long after coming to ‘the end.’”—Lambda Literary

  In 2012 RWA/FTHRW Lories and RWA HODRW Aspen Gold award winner Firestorm “Radclyffe brings another hot lesbian romance for her readers.”—The Lesbrary

  Foreword Review Book of the Year finalist and IPPY silver medalist Trauma Alert “is hard to put down and it will sizzle in the reader’s hands. The characters are hot, the sex scenes explicit and explosive, and the book is moved along by an interesting plot with well drawn secondary characters. The real star of this show is the attraction between the two characters, both of whom resist and then fall head over heels.”—Lambda Literary Reviews

  Lambda Literary Award Finalist Best Lesbian Romance 2010 features “stories [that] are diverse in tone, style, and subject, making for more variety than in many, similar anthologies…well written, each containing a satisfying, surprising twist. Best Lesbian Romance series editor Radclyffe has assembled a respectable crop of 17 authors for this year’s offering.”—Curve Magazine

  2010 Prism award winner and ForeWord Review Book of the Year Award finalist Secrets in the Stone is “so powerfully [written] that the worlds of these three women shimmer between reality and dreams…A strong, must read novel that will linger in the minds of readers long after the last page is turned.”—Just About Write

  In Benjamin Franklin Award finalist Desire by Starlight “Radclyffe writes romance with such heart and her down-to-earth characters not only come to life but leap off the page until you feel like you know them. What Jenna and Gard feel for each other is not only a spark but an inferno and, as a reader, you will be washed away in this tumultuous romance until you can do nothing but succumb to it.”—Queer Magazine Online

  Lambda Literary Award winner Stolen Moments “is a collection of steamy stories about women who just couldn’t wait. It’s sex when desire overrides reason, and it’s incredibly hot!”—On Our Backs

  Lambda Literary Award winner Distant Shores, Silent Thunder “weaves an intricate tapestry about passion and commitment between lovers. The story explores the fragile nature of trust and the sanctuary provided by loving relationships.”—Sapphic Reader

  Lambda Literary Award Finalist Justice Served delivers a “crisply written, fast-paced story with twists and turns and keeps us guessing until the final explosive ending.”—Independent Gay Writer

  Lambda Literary Award finalist Turn Back Time “is filled with wonderful love scenes, which are both tender and hot.”—MegaScene

  Applause for L.L. Raand’s Midnight Hunters Series

  The Midnight Hunt

  RWA 2012 VCRW Laurel Wreath winner Blood Hunt

  Night Hunt

  The Lone Hunt

  “Raand has built a complex world inhabited by werewolves, vampires, and other paranormal beings…Raand has given her readers a complex plot filled with wonderful characters as well as insight into the hierarchy of Sylvan’s pack and vampire clans. There are many plot twists and turns, as well as erotic sex scenes in this riveting novel that keep the pages flying until its satisfying conclusion.”—Just About Write

  “Once again, I am amazed at the storytelling ability of L.L. Raand aka Radclyffe. In Blood Hunt, she mixes high levels of sheer eroticism that will leave you squirming in your seat with an impeccable multi-character storyline all streaming together to form one great read.”—Queer Magazine Online

  “The Midnight Hunt has a gripping story to tell, and while there are also some truly erotic sex scenes, the story always takes precedence. This is a great read which is not easily put down nor easily forgotten.”—Just About Write

  “Are you sick of the same old hetero vampire/werewolf story plastered in every bookstore and at every movie theater? Well, I’ve got the cure to your werewolf fever. The Midnight Hunt is first in, what I hope is, a long-running series of fantasy erotica for L.L. Raand (aka Radclyffe).”—Queer Magazine Online

  “Any reader familiar with Radclyffe’s writing will recognize the author’s style within The Midnight Hunt, yet at the same time it is most definitely a new direction. The author delivers an excellent story here, one that is engrossing from the very beginning. Raand has pieced together an intricate world, and provided just enough details for the reader to become enmeshed in the new world. The action moves quickly throughout the book and it’s hard to put down.”—Three Dollar Bill Reviews

  Secrets of the Heart

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  Secrets of the Heart

  © 2006 By Radclyffe. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-63555-139-6

  This Electronic Original is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, NY 12185

  First Bold Strokes Books Electronic Edition: August 2017

  Originally Published in The Perfect Valentine ed. T. Szymanski and B. Johnson (Bella Books, 2006).

  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: Ruth Sternglantz

  Production Design: Bold Strokes Graphics

  Cover Design By Melody Pond

  By Radclyffe

  Romances

  Innocent Hearts

  Promising Hearts

  Love’s Melody Lost

  Love’s Tender Warriors

  Tomorrow’s Promise

  Love’s Masquerade

  shadowland

  Passion’s Bright Fury

  Fated Love

  Turn Back Time

  When Dreams Tremble

  The Lonely Hearts Club

  Night Call

  Secrets in the Stone

  Desire by Starlight

  Crossroads

  Homestead

  The Color of Love

  Secret Hearts

  Honor Series

  Above All, Honor

  Honor Bound

  Love & Honor

  Honor Guards

  Honor Reclaimed

  Honor Under Siege

  Word of Honor

  Code of Honor

  Price of Honor

  Justi
ce Series

  A Matter of Trust (prequel)

  Shield of Justice

  In Pursuit of Justice

  Justice in the Shadows

  Justice Served

  Justice For All

  The Provincetown Tales

  Safe Harbor

  Beyond the Breakwater

  Distant Shores, Silent Thunder

  Storms of Change

  Winds of Fortune

  Returning Tides

  Sheltering Dunes

  First Responders Novels

  Trauma Alert

  Firestorm

  Oath of Honor

  Taking Fire

  Wild Shores

  Heart Stop

  Rivers Community Novels

  Against Doctor’s Orders

  Prescription for Love

  Love on Call

  Short Fiction

  Collected Stories by Radclyffe

  Erotic Interludes: Change of Pace

  Radical Encounters

  Edited by Radclyffe:

  Best Lesbian Romance 2009-2014

  Stacia Seaman and Radclyffe, eds.

  Erotic Interludes 2: Stolen Moments

  Erotic Interludes 3: Lessons in Love

  Erotic Interludes 4: Extreme Passions

  Erotic Interludes 5: Road Games

  Romantic Interludes 1: Discovery

  Romantic Interludes 2: Secrets

  Breathless: Tales of Celebration

  Women of the Dark Streets

  Amore and More: Love Everafter

  Myth & Magic: Queer Fairy Tales

  By L.L. Raand

  Midnight Hunters

  The Midnight Hunt

  Blood Hunt

  Night Hunt

  The Lone Hunt

  The Magic Hunt

  Shadow Hunt

  Secrets of the Heart

  I must have looked suspicious because the sales clerk moved to the end of the counter nearest me, leaned his elbows on the smudged glass surface, and fixed me with a baleful stare. I suppose the fact that I’d been standing in front of the card rack for twenty minutes, unmoving, struck him as odd. If he’d known me, he wouldn’t have found it strange. He might even have appreciated how impossible it was for me to choose a Valentine’s Day card for this particular woman.

  From the instant I’d scanned the messages scattered over the ubiquitous pink and red cards, I’d known it was hopeless.

  Be Mine. Forever Yours. Your Forever Love.

  Perfect sentiments, and everything I wanted to say. Except she didn’t know, and I didn’t dare tell her.

  “Help you with something?” he grunted.

  When I didn’t answer, he probably thought I was crazy or just plain rude. He had no way of knowing that I wasn’t seeing any of the cards and that his voice barely registered as background noise. I was replaying the conversation I’d had over breakfast that morning with the woman who had put me in such a quandary.

  *

  “So,” Sheri said as she stuck her head in the refrigerator and rummaged around on her shelf for something I wouldn’t even recognize as food, “got a date tonight?”

  “Uh-uh,” I replied around a mouthful of last night’s pepperoni pizza. We’d agreed when we moved in together that we’d keep our food separate because she pronounced my eating habits “disgusting,” and I contended that cold pizza and beer was an all-American meal. On the other hand, yogurt and granola and things that resembled the stuff that came out of a lawn mower bag struck me as being unnatural.

  She turned around and leaned her back against the closed enamel door, spoon in one hand, a carton of purplish gooey stuff in the other, wearing only a lacy white bra and very, very tiny bikini panties. In between those minuscule scraps of material masquerading as garments was an acre or so of alabaster skin that stretched and dipped over one of the nicest landscapes I’d ever seen. The rosy areolas blushed beneath the snowy white silk as if embarrassed by my scrutiny, and I hastily looked out the window. I fixed on the latticework of telephone wires superimposed on the zigzag line of the fire escape that hung by a few loose bolts from the adjacent apartment building. If I squinted, the view resembled a Mondrian, which was far safer for my blood pressure than the image of a Judy Francesconi calendar model that I saw every time I looked at Sheri. Being a MFA grad student tended to make me think like that. Sheri, on the other hand, was studying modern dance. Her body was her instrument, and she thought nothing of displaying it. We were roommates. I was gay. She wasn’t.

  In all fairness, it wasn’t that she didn’t think of me as a sexual being when she walked around the apartment in less than a chin-to-ankle cloak, which is probably the only kind of garment that wouldn’t have made my heart sing and my lower regions beat out a frantic rhythm in accompaniment. She was just comfortable in her skin and had no idea that I dreamed about using her body as my canvas to paint upon. I had decided months ago on gold body paint. Just a subtle rendering, to accent the already perfect picture—a circle around her right nipple connected by a diagonal slash across her high arched ribs to a ring that rimmed her shallow belly button. I could feel her skin beneath my fingertips as I spread the wet glitter along the path my tongue longed to follow, ending in a dusting of promises in the blond curls between her thighs. My gold-tipped fingers would guide her legs apart, and then I would lower my head to—

  “Davy? Da-vi-da. Hel-lo-o.”

  I jumped and flushed. Or flushed more, to be strictly accurate. Sheri stopped with her spoon halfway to her mouth and looked at me with an odd expression. “What’s the matter with you? You look sick.”

  Lovesick, maybe.

  “Nothing,” I croaked. Then I coughed, trying to cover how tight my throat had become as I’d made my imaginary journey down her body. My hands trembled, and I shoved them between my blue jean clad thighs.

  “So?” she asked.

  I shook my head, totally befuddled. Had we been talking about something? My nipples were stiff beneath my T-shirt, tingling and tight, unashamedly clamoring for attention. The rest of me was on point too—hard and wet, the desire to taste her skin so intense it sucked all the blood and good sense from my brain. Jesus, it was getting so I couldn’t be around her for more than five minutes without going crazy. “So, what?” I finally managed.

  She cocked a hip, which tightened that little patch of silk flush across her mound, hinting at the prominence of her clitoris where the tantalizing rise gave way to the valley beyond. I brushed the back of my hand over my mouth, afraid I might be drooling.

  “Do. You. Have. A. Date. Tonight?”

  “It’s Tuesday,” I said stupidly.

  “It’s Valentine’s Day, so that doesn’t count.”

  Valentine’s Day. But I want you to be my Valentine.

  “Oh. No. I forgot.”

  I supposed I should ask her the same thing, but I just didn’t want to know. It was getting harder and harder to watch her go out on dates and then spend the night pretending I wasn’t thinking about what she was doing, or about what someone might be doing to her. I’d envision her in her sexy short skirts and tight little tops, having dinner with some guy, or dancing with him, or—uh-uh, no. I couldn’t go there. In fact, I’d started spending more and more Friday and Saturday nights away from the apartment just so I wouldn’t see her going out. I was getting to be a regular at the all-night movie theater around the corner on Chestnut.

  “Does that mean no date?” she probed.

  I nodded.

  She gave me a quick little smile and dropped her spoon into the sink. Then she leaned over, opened the cabinet beneath it, and discarded her yogurt container. When she straightened up, my eyes were still leveled at the place where her breasts had been seconds before, riveted on the nipples just peeking out over the scalloped lace edges. I tore my eyes up her body to her face, and she grinned.

  “Me neither,” Sheri said. “Wanna have dinner with me?”

  “Sure. You want to try that sushi place we read about in the Weeken
der?”

  Her smile got kind of funny, as if I’d missed something.

  “No, I thought we’d eat here. You buy some wine, and I’ll make dinner.”

  “Like cook?”

  She walked past me and ran her fingers through my hair. “Yes, dummy. Like cook.”

  *

  Be Mine. Forever Yours. Your Forever Love.

  I stared at the cards. It was impossible. She’d think I was crazy. I turned around and walked out of the drugstore empty-handed.

  I did better with the wine. Sheri pronounced it, “Yum. Good.”

  “That looks good too.”

  I stood behind her as she stirred colorful things that didn't really look like food together in a big pan on top of the stove, her wineglass on the counter beside her. She’d pulled her thick blond hair up off her neck and held it in place with a tortoiseshell comb. A few wisps had escaped, and they trailed down over her throat. The steam, spicy and rich, rose from whatever it was she was cooking and mingled with something sweeter, something her. I leaned in closer to breathe her scent, and my crotch brushed over her ass. The touch charged through me, setting every nerve ending ablaze. For a second I was so stunned, I didn’t move. Then, before I could jump away, she gave a little roll of her hips and pushed back into me. That’s when I knew I’d lost my mind. Because she couldn’t be doing that. Could she?

  “Davy?”

  “Huh?”