Elizabeth is a hardworking, responsible single mom who won’t even entertain the idea of dating until her teen boys are off to college. But that doesn’t mean she can’t have a little fun—her way.
Every other Saturday, Elizabeth becomes “Lizzy”, temporarily trading in business suits and an austere lifestyle for short skirts and plunging necklines. She visits her favorite dance club, selects her “mark” for the evening then engages in an appetizer of dirty dancing so hot, it should be illegal. And the main course? A tete-a-tete in the restroom, where the real sweaty, sizzling, body-slapping fun begins. For Elizabeth, it’s the perfect arrangement—and her biggest secret. Until Gabe. He’s discovered her game and he wants Elizabeth for himself. Not for a quickie in a bathroom…but a lifetime in his bed.
Here's an Excerpt from the book. Enjoy and here's to a happy, healthy and prosperous new year.
Excerpt From: QUEEN OF THE CLUB
Copyright © SUSAN ASHWORTHY, 2012
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
As usual, Elizabeth went straight to the bikes, selecting one off to the right so Gabe had to slide his chair over a bit to see her. She didn’t start out slow and build up to a fast pace like most people. She climbed on and started pedaling as if the devil himself was after her. He knew she’d ride full out for a good ten minutes, dismount and go back into the locker room.
That was it. Ten minutes of watching her legs pumping and her ass bouncing. But this wasn’t what intrigued him—and intrigued he was.
What had him ready to break all the rules of common sense, and probably a few 24/7 Fitness rules as well, was the transformation.
Elizabeth arrived as a plain Jane—unassuming workout clothes, hair in a ponytail, no makeup—and left as a smokin’-hot seductress, sporting high heels, a short skirt and a curve-hugging sweater. It took her a little less than an hour to make the transformation. He knew she showered—he tried not to think about her naked, wet body—did something to her hair that had it falling in rich dark waves around her shoulders, and then added makeup, making her look radiant, even from far away.
The first time he’d seen her, he’d been on his way out. She was barely a blip on his radar, just another sweaty chick on a bike. But on another night, he’d stayed after his shift and caught a glimpse from his office of a bombshell emerging from the ladies’ locker room. He’d watched as every head in the room, both male and female, turned to follow her movement across the gym before she disappeared down the stairs.
“Who the hell was that?” he’d asked the night manager.
“Don’t ask. She wants nothing to do with you. Trust me.”
Apparently the woman pulled the same stunt every other Saturday. Being new to this branch of 24/7, it took Gabe a few weeks to gather all the gossip and figure out who she was. Every male trainer, office manager and many of the male clients had tried to approach her, ask her out, make a move.
And every one had failed.
Her story was, she was here to work out, period. She was polite but firm. Guys who tried to follow her outside were told she was on her way to meet her six-foot-six football-playing husband, and that pretty much ended the conversation. But Gabe didn’t buy it.
Married women didn’t dress like that for their husbands, or at least none of the wives Gabe knew. Something else was going on, and he was dying to find out what.
For six months he’d watched the duckling turned into a swan. Of course, she wasn’t ugly before the transformation, merely unremarkable. He’d only gotten close to her once. He’d known her attention would be focused on the TV monitor in front of her as she pedaled her bike. Using the ploy of wiping down some of the equipment, he‘d been able to study her from the side.
She didn’t look forty-one—he’d looked up her age on her membership—especially when she was pedaling away on a bike, her ponytail swinging back and forth like a clock pendulum.
Gabe noticed she had checked the “married” box on the application, but had a feeling it was a lie. He’d learned a lot of women did that so they wouldn’t be bugged by come-ons. He’d never gotten close enough to see if she wore a ring, but he guessed she didn’t. She had used a post office box for her address, but Gabe knew she lived in Seal Beach or near there, since that was where the P.O. box was located. The gym also had her cell phone number but no home number. She was working hard to keep her privacy.
He didn’t have to guess her height (five-eight), her weight (one-forty-five), or her measurements (thirty-seven, thirty-three, thirty-six). It was all written on her status sheet. He even knew what her fitness goals were (“firm up my thighs and reduce my waist”), although he thought she looked great the way she was.
But what he didn’t know was why she came to the gym every other Saturday, worked out like a woman possessed for ten minutes and then disappeared into the locker room, only to emerge as the woman who haunted his dreams.
Tonight, however, everything was about to change. Tonight he was going to do something really stupid—he was going to follow her.