How's this for a nice Xmas Pressie?

A Contract for Tea for Three!

Yup, hopefully in the earlier half of 2007 you will be seeing my new menage story, set in NZ available at Loose Id.

Wren, Jack, and Craig have been alot of fun to write, hopefully ya'll are going to find them as interesting to read.

Hers a little excerpt of the first time all three of them meet. This is unedited so may differ than the final product, and please forgive typos and grammar mistakes:

Agh! How did she let herself be convinced to go to these things?
Wren watched as her girlfriends gyrated on the postage stamp sized dance floor, with a group of men more likely to puke on their expensive high heels than be able to solve world peace -- let alone manage to get themselves into a cab at the end of the night.
Yet again she was left watching the party, not joining in. All things considered, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing -- how reliable could it be to meet a drunk guy in a bar? It’s not as if they are trying to find Miss Right to settle down with, more like Miss Are You Multi-orgasmic because you may as well enjoy it while I fuck myself senseless then skip out at the crack of dawn.
Not that she was bitter or anything. But it would be nice to be asked to dance just once, even if she had to turn the invitation down.
She swirled the straw in the lemon, lime and bitters that rested on the bar in front of her -- at least she had graduated from peeling the labels off of beer bottles in college. Now she just watched the ice-cubes clank against each other.
“Can I buy you another?” Wren looked up, surprised by the warm, smooth voice that sounded in her ear. Deep in her musings she hadn’t noticed the empty bar stool beside her had been filled by a rather attractive, stocky, dark-haired man with warm, dark Godiva chocolate eyes that matched his deep voice.
“It’s okay; you don’t need to do that. I was just heading home anyway.” Putting down the glass she had been idly twisting in her hand, she made a move to push her stool away from the bar when a large warm hand over her own stopped her.
“Please don’t rush away, I’d really like some company for a while. I’ve been entertaining out of town clients all night, and I would love to spend a little time chatting with someone a lot more interesting than they are.” Catching the bartender’s eye he indicated to refill their glasses. “Let me get another drink for both of us.”
Wow. Talk about smooth. While asserting control over the situation, he indicated he was no threat, asked her to take pity on him, and then just plain negated her plans with his own. Wren didn’t know if she should feel offended for being walked over, or if she kind of liked his brand of charm.
It wouldn’t hurt to spend a few minutes chatting before heading home. After all there wasn’t anything urgent to rush away for, now was there?
Letting a smile bloom she held out her hand. “I’m Wren.” He returned her smile and grasped her hand firmly, but delicately, treating her equally, but also respectfully. His mum had obviously taught him well.
“My name’s Craig. Craig Hunter.” Indicating over his shoulder, he gestured towards the dance floor. “And I’ve been officially dumped for the unofficial portion of the evening.” Looking over his shoulder, Wren realized he was gesturing at the gaggle of men around her girlfriends.
“Ahhh...the catch of the evening.” Craig looked back, eyebrows raised quizzically. “I came with my girlfriends -- the ones in the middle of your pack of piranhas.”
“Poor men, if only they knew.” She shook her head in pity. “Those girls are sharks -- they will eat them up as a snack and go looking for more.”
Craig looked back over his shoulder again, and laughed.

Looking back to the woman beside him Craig decided she looked prettier close up; she was quick and witty, too. He had been watching her from across the room for about an hour -- she had been sitting at the bar the whole time, nursing her drink. He thought she looked...appealing, possibly someone with an intriguing story to tell. Someone, that he thought might be interesting to get to know further, more than just a chat, at a bar, in a crowded pub. Jack would like this straight forward woman too; he just had to figure out how to ask her out -- without making it look as if he was hitting on her.
They chatted about nothing much for about ten minutes, until the barman remembered to serve their drinks. He laid down a twenty to pay for them, halting her movement towards her wallet.
“Thanks.” She smiled shyly as she picked up her glass; almost like this was the first time someone else had ever brought her a drink. Surely not? Swallowing, she gulped down a good quarter of the glass in one hit.

“Whoa, go slow there Wren. There’s no hurry, it’ll go to your head.” Wren looked at him oddly and shrugged.
“The most it will do will give me the hiccups. There’s no alcohol in it.”
“Oh.” Craig had the grace to look chagrined at having lectured her.
“I don’t drink when I am out... alcohol that is, unless it’s used in cooking.” She could tell he was curious as to why she was sitting in a bar not drinking, but was being polite too polite to ask.
“The girls drag me out every now and then; they think I’m missing out on something by not hitting the pubs and bars three nights a week.” Answering Craig’s unasked question.
“They drag you out to leave you sitting alone --” The rest of his sentence was cut off as a man, whose hair was blond like a ray of sunshine and reeked of the outdoors, stepped in between them, his back to Wren, firmly interrupting their conversation.
The newcomer put a hand on the bar to brace himself as he leaned in and kissed Craig heartily on the lips. “Evening, lover. How is the schmoozing going?”
Oh, well then. That explains it -- He’s gay. Figures. At least Craig had livened her evening up some with good conversation. All the good ones are taken or gay. She sighed silently, and gathered up her things -- time to leave the partying to those with someone to party with.