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What Reviewers Say About The Author
“Fulton has rescued the romance from formulaic complacency by asking universal questions about friendship and love, intimacy and lust. The answers reß ect both depth and maturity; this is the romance novel grown up a bit. Girl gets girl is always popular; more inspirational is when the girl gets to know herself.”—
The Lesbian Review of Books
“Fulton takes an age old formula for love and plants it in modern surroundings. The writing is smart and quick, and she portrays innocence with loving, irresistible humor. She delivers ß esh-warming, ß ush-inducing seduction and pages of slippery, richly textured sex.
Her knack for depicting current social dilemmas also makes her a compelling contemporary author.”
—The Lesbian Review of Books
“Fulton has penned another wonderfully readable, erotically-charged book…fun, and well worth your time.”—
Lambda Book Report
“Fulton tells a dark and disturbing tale of friendship and betrayal, of love lost before it has a chance to begin. That may sound rather hackneyed but her use of these themes is anything but trite. The writing is outstanding…Fulton creates characters that live on in the memory and in the heart…An extraordinary novel. I could not put it down and days later, I’m still thinking about it.”—
Bay Area Reporter
“Perhaps needless to say, the paths the friendships take are fraught with, among other things, lust, unrequited love, inÞ delity and dishonesty.
Good intentions are trampled in the pursuit of passion. Problems, both past and present, shape the relationships the women share….The writing is sharp…a realistic account of contemporary urban lesbian life.”—
Melbourne Star Observer
“The ending left me grinning to myself for hours and wishing for an immediately available sequel…One of the best writers on the roster….Her books are always entertaining and often thought provoking.”—
Dimensions
“I’m not sure why I found the book so completely erotic. The author knows how to tease and how to deliver.”—
Lesbiana
“One of those books that is hard to put down until you Þ nish it…
Whether you’re in the perfect relationship or still looking for it, you’ll enjoy this story.”—
MegaScene
By the Author
ROMANCES as Jennifer Fulton
Moon Island Series
Heartstoppers Series
Passion Bay
Dark Dreamer
Saving Grace
The Sacred Shore
Others
A Guarded Heart
True Love
Solace
Greener Than Grass
More Than Paradise
CONTEMPORARY FICTION as Grace Lennox
Chance
MYSTERIES as Rose Beecham
Amanda Valentine Series
Jude Devine Series
Introducing Amanda Valentine
Grave Silence
Second Guess
Sleep of Reason
Fair Play
MORE THAN
PARADISE
by
Jennifer Fulton
2007
More Than Paradise
© 2007 By Jennifer fulTon. all righTs reserved.
isBn 10: 1-933110-69-4e
isBn 13: 978-1-933110-69-4e
This ElEcTronic Book is PuBlishEd By Bold sTrokEs Books, inc.,
P.o. Box 249
VallEy Falls, ny 12185
FirsT EdiTion: FEBruary 2007
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: sTacia sEaMan
ProducTion dEsiGn: sTacia sEaMan
coVEr PhoTo By shEri
coVEr dEsiGn By shEri ([email protected])
Acknowledgments
Novels cannot be written in a vacuum. I am very fortunate to have led an adventurous life, mostly as a consequence of a common-sense deÞ ciency, and to be surrounded by people who intrigue me. An author could not hope for richer sources of inspiration. I worked on this novel with the support and encouragement of the women who make my life make sense: Fel, Sophie, Wyn—my mother, and JD.
Stacia Seaman has my sincere thanks for her careful editing and willingness to operate a tight timetable. And, as always, Sheri’s wonderful cover is a credit to her gifts and skills much more than to any dull-witted suggestions I could ever make—but thank you for asking.
Finally, I thank Radclyffe for being the publisher authors hope to have. Without her encouragement and mentoring, this job would be so much less rewarding.
For my sweetheart. Thank you for the orchids.
Visit us at www.boldstrokesbooks.com
Author’s Note
I have always wanted to set a passionate romance in the renegade seediness of postcolonial New Guinea, a place unmatched on this planet for its mystery and dangerous enchantment. This novel would not make sense if I didn’t touch upon the plunder of this extraordinary land and its indigenous people by the merchants of misery now exploiting it.
So if you prefer mostly sweetness and light in your romances, you may like some of my other stories more.
However, I hope those of you who spend your hard-earned money on
More Than Paradise
enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for buying my books. You are the reason I write them.
MORE THAN PARADISE
The babe in the pink dress was making eye contact. She had designs, no question. Ash Evans knew every cue in the book, from the slow, sensual application of lipstick to the legs crossed then uncrossed. The exaggerated pout and the occasional head toss to extend a succulent throat. The hand absently caressing the skin where her neckline plunged. Hair tampering. Tip of the tongue teasing. Finally the hot come-hither look that said,
Buy me a drink
.
It took slightly less than three seconds for Ash to signal the barman and order a repeat of whatever girlie cocktail the hottie was sculling. Although this was an upscale club, she didn’t wait for one of the sleek staff to carry the
okay, I’m tempted
offering to the table Þ fteen feet away. Instead she negotiated her way through a smorgasbord of exposed ß esh and set the napkin and brimming martini glass in front of the seductive blonde.
Femmes liked to hunt in pairs, Ash had learned that long ago.
This one was on the prowl with spare bait, a fetching Rita Hayworth look-alike, complete with chestnut waves to her shoulders and a slinky retro cocktail dress. Normally Ash would have bought her a drink, too, but she seemed intent on nursing the one she had, the designated driver maybe. All the same, Ash offered to ß ag down a cocktail waiter right after she’d introduced herself.
The brunette, who had
Trust Fund Baby
stamped on her head and said her name was “Carla spelled Karlah,” proceeded to ruin her Þ fties-goddess impersonation by declaring, “No, it’s cool. I’m doing lunch with the folks tomorrow, so, like, seriously…two drinks and I’m totally on notice. I mean, you have
no
idea. Rehab. Both of them.”
• 11 •
JENNIFER FULTON
Her companion added, “Omigod, your mom can smell last week’s cosmos at, like, a thousand paces.” The galpals giggled and the blonde extended her hand daintily to Ash, announcing, “I’m Dani Bush. No relation.”
“Well, that’s encouraging.”
“Sit,” Dani commanded, like Ash was a hunky version of a Chihuahua.
Ash deposited her sipping whiskey and recruited a chair from a neighboring table. As she got comfortable, both women surveyed her with blatant sexual interest. Apparently she could take her pick. This, she had to admit, was a relief. She’d been Stateside for seventy-two hours, a record for the usual lag time between hitting the tarmac and getting laid. She’d been busy and the wait had made her even hornier than her vacation norm. No wonder. She hadn’t so much as smelled a woman she’d want to fuck in three months.
“You’re not from ’round here, are you?” Karlah asked.
Ash checked her out thoroughly. For reasons that bafß ed her, she often missed the chance to score with an attractive brunette if there was a platinum blonde within Þ fty feet. But Karlah was very attractive indeed. Her features were more even than Dani’s and she had cheekbones. Everything had been Þ xed, Ash guessed. The nose, the smile, the chin, and although she was probably under thirty, her serene brow suggested she was already well acquainted with that shit women got injected into their faces.
Not that Ash had any complaints. Every time she returned to civilization she was thankful for well-maintained eye candy. To answer Karlah’s conversation starter, she said, “I live overseas.”
“London, right?” Dani guessed.
“Wrong.”
Dani tilted her head and ß icked a shimmering strand away from her cheek. “Hmm. The accent. You’re American but you haven’t lived here for, like, years.”
Ash nodded. “You have a good ear.”
And excellent breasts. Dani was more successful at starving herself than Karlah, but the breasts made up for the bony shoulders, and amazingly they looked like the real thing. Ash was happy about that. Lately she’d encountered more and more of those weirdly round fakes perching like grapefruit on women’s chests. They were never the
• 12 •
MORE THAN PARADISE
same and she got nervous handling them, knowing a bag of evil lay just below the surface.
Dani took another stab at the accent. “Australia?”
“Close. Papua New Guinea. I spend a lot of time with the Aussie expats working over there. Maybe the accent has rubbed off.”
“I like it,” Karlah noted. “It’s hot.”
“Totally,” Dani agreed, cruising Ash some more. “Papua New Guinea…” She frowned, evidently searching some rarely explored recess of her mind. “Oh, shut up! They’ve only got, like…headhunters there, don’t they?”