Coming Back A Virgin

Professional Reviews

From Romance Reviews Today: "COMING BACK A VIRGIN is a laugh-out-loud, totally improbable fantasy that works. Many---not all of the sex scenes are smarmy. But some are tender and sensual. Although necessarily over-the-top at times, the writing is tightly controlled, droll, and paints such fun pictures with just the right words. But, along with the humor there are poignant moments and some very fine surprises. I have known a couple of Walters in my lifetime.
If you need your spirits lifted after a bad day, or are just in need of a smile, I sincerely recommend COMING BACK A VIRGIN." Reviewed by Maggie Anderson

From Red Roses for Authors "This is a good book and fun read. This one is worth reading. You fall in love with the characters of the book. Definitely worth taking the time to read this one.
I give this one 4-1/2 Red Roses!" Reviewed by Larena

Excerpt

Walter Riggins moved the cursor to send and clicked the left mouse button just as the doorbell rang. Frowning at the interruption, he walked to the front door and opened it.

A woman stood there in a black sequined dress; its most notable feature a mesh-covered cutout around the waist. The dress displayed her ample cleavage and accentuated her large breasts, small waist and prefect hips.

His mouth fell open as he stared at her.

She looked at him, frowned, and said, “Move, Walter!” then she pushed by him to enter his apartment.

Startled, he turned and continued to stare at her. “Who are you?” he stammered.

She ignored him and continued to look around his living room. What a mess! The residue of numerous fast food meals was everywhere. Piles of books and magazines had fallen from the coffee table and the entertainment center onto the adjacent floor. The rug hadn’t been vacuumed in months. A thick layer of dust coated the untouched flat surfaces of his furniture.

“Clear off a chair, Walter. I want to sit down,” she demanded.

He quickly moved to his best chair and swept the pizza box and empty soda cans to the floor. “Here, sit down.”

“Thank you.”

Walter pushed aside the empty chip bags and dip containers then sat on the sofa. “Now, who are you?”

“You know. I’m Lorraine.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know any Lorraine. What’s your last name?”

She looked at the Playboy centerfolds on the walls. “Don’t know. You never gave me one.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

She gestured towards the glossy pinups. “What’s with the walls?”

He looked up at the centerfolds and grinned. “I didn’t have anything else to put up. Looks good for a bachelor pad, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t,” Lorraine said. “It looks like some teenager’s idea of a bachelor pad.”

Not liking the rebuke, he asked again, “Who are you?”

“I’ve been in four of your books. I’m probably in the one you’re working on now.”

He studied her for a few seconds. “No. No you’re not. Lorraine’s fictional—I made her up. I didn’t base her on you, whoever you are.”

“Oh, I’m not real. I’m the character in your books.”

Walter didn’t do drugs and rarely drank, which made it hard to believe what he was hearing. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you. Even in the unlikely event one of my characters was sitting in this room, in that chair, I would recognize them. Don’t you think?”

“You know why you don’t recognize me?”

Walter hesitated. “No, I’m afraid I don’t. But you can’t be Lorraine, because—she’s not real.”

“You never describe my face, Walter. Not my hair, my eyes, my nose, nothing above the neck. The only time you mention my lips is—well, we won’t get into that. The only thing you describe is my body, specifically my breasts, my ass, as you always refer to it and another part of my female anatomy.”

He stared at her, a stunned look on his face.

Lorraine stood and told him to do the same. “Come here!”

He moved warily toward her, stopping in front of her.

“Put your hand on my breast. No, both hands, both breasts, that’s what happens in your books.”

He didn’t move. She took his hands and placed them on her breasts.

Walter, feeling real breasts under the sequined material, gently squeezed them and opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t. His eyes were focused on her breasts.

She let him gently fondle her until her nipples were hard. Smiling, she thrust out her breasts and squirmed against his hands, making sure he realized what he was feeling. The hungry look on his face confirmed that. A mischievous grin crossed her face and her body shuddered for an instant. Now he saw her but felt nothing, another second and he was standing there with his hands in the air, holding nothing and seeing nothing. The expression on his face went from sexual desire to confusion to incredulity before he slumped to the floor in a dead faint.

Well, he didn’t take that too well, but it should convince him. She looked around while he lay there. I wonder if he has a girlfriend? If he does, she doesn’t come here much.

Lorraine walked around the apartment and shook her head. No, no woman has been here. The bedroom floor was covered with dirty clothes. The nightstand was covered with cans and moldy cups. Yuck, men are such pigs. She couldn’t identify the original color of the bedsheets. They couldn’t be white. They must have been gray to start with. There was no discernible color to them now. My God, who would sleep in that? She carefully stepped over to the dresser and opened the drawers, one after another. They were all empty. Shaking her head, she said aloud, “Well that doesn’t surprise me—it’s all on the floor.”

Walter was beginning to stir when she confronted the disaster in the kitchen. Dirty dishes were stacked on every possible surface. It looked like nothing had been washed for months and she doubted they could be cleaned now. She stared in amazement, wondering about his diet. Does he live on fast food?

She looked up as he walked in and stopped near the doorway, eyeing her suspiciously. “Okay, who are you? What are you?” he asked.

She smiled sweetly. “Lorraine, I’m Lorraine.”

Walter couldn’t say her name. “Okay, what are you doing here?”

“I’ve come here to help you.”

“Help me?”

“Yep, that’s my mission. I don’t know what I got myself into though. What a mess. You’re a mess, this place is a mess, your writing’s a mess, everything’s a mess. If I had known things were this bad, I would have stayed up there.”

Walter didn’t understand. “Stayed up where?”