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Delivery Man
Delivery Man
There's something sexy about a man out of uniform.

Derek likes working for SpeeDee Delivery. Days pass quickly, and running to and from the truck helps keep him in shape for the summer baseball season. 

Ella is a fashion blogger who spends long days at her computer, surrounded by clothes, jewelry, and accessories. Days pass where she doesn’t see a soul, except for the cute delivery man with bright blue eyes and a rockin’ bod. 

When Ella offers Derek a cold drink one summer afternoon, the conversation turns from friendly to flirty. But will Derek risk his job for a secret fling with Ella? 

Delivery Man is an instalove, forbidden erotic romance.

“…fast paced…well written, with lots of erotic encounters, and a lovely romantic feel throughout…” – Jade aka Mrs. Tosh, Goodreads


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What readers are saying:

"...Real characters with real feelings sort of jump off the page and make you think they could maybe be your neighbors!"

~ Liz
Kindles & Wine book blog

"I wasn't prepared.... The chemistry between these characters is so strong...I was pulled into the book with them a few times."

~ Twarla

"This was a sizzling hot story from the first to the last page. I absolutely loved it!"

~ Tara


I was driving to meet the girl of my dreams. 

The dark-haired girl whose face I saw every night as I drifted to sleep. The girl I pictured sucking my cock while I jerked off in the shower. 

The girl I talked to every weekday for one minute, between 1:25 and 1:40 P.M.

How would it feel to pick her up in my car and take her on a date? What if we could talk as long as we liked, instead of a minute of small talk while she signed for a package? 

My heart rate kicked up a notch as I pulled off the main road, knowing I’d see her soon. 

She lived in a residential neighborhood lined with modest capes and ranches. Flower baskets hung from porches. The scent of mowed grass filled the air. My truck door was latched open to let in the warm breeze and the occasional splash from a sprinkler.   

I let out a deep breath and focused on the road. I’d worked for SpeeDee Delivery for six years with no accidents, and I intended to keep it that way. 

School was out, and kids played in yards, enjoying the sunshine. A small boy waved at my truck. He wore a Red Sox hat, and a large baseball glove covered his left hand.

“Hi Derek!” 

I waved back. “Hey, kiddo!” 

Perfect baseball weather. I had batting practice tonight with my friend Jim. My shift ended early, leaving afternoons free for baseball. Winters meant tough driving in Vermont and lots of overtime during the holidays. But it was worth the shitty winter driving to have spring and summer afternoons to play ball.

I turned onto Ella’s street. 

Sweet Ella, who always had a smile for me. Most of my customers worked from home in sweatpants and ratty t-shirts. During the summer, a few women answered their doors in low-cut tops and tiny shorts, eyeing me like a piece of meat. No way was I going to fuck some desperate housewife. 

Ella wore dresses, jewelry, and sandals. Some days her long, dark hair was tied up. Other days it flowed over her shoulders. She had bright blue eyes topped with dark eyelashes. 

I slowed and stopped in front of her driveway. She lived in a brick ranch with a blue painted door. The lawn was neatly mowed, and red flowers lined the front walk. I turned off the engine and took off my seatbelt. The sun warmed my shoulders while I pulled a large envelope from the back.

I stretched out Ella’s deliveries as long as I could, making small talk about the weather. Sometimes her gaze drifted over my body. My stomach fluttered when she looked into my eyes.

We never touched. She took her packages without a single brush of skin. It was a careful, flirty dance. 

I knocked. The door opened, and there she was: the subject of my shower fantasies. 

Wearing a white bikini under a sheer black cover-up.

My jaw dropped, and I took a half-step back. 

“Hey, Derek,” she said.

She was wearing a silver chain with a pendant that rested between her breasts. A small belly piercing caught my eye. Her legs were long and tan, and her toenails were painted with pink polish.

Awareness zinged up my spine. 

“You uh…need to sign for this one.” 

I handed her the clipboard and wiped my palms on my shorts. 

Eyes up. 

A bikini on the first hot day of summer. A new record. It usually took a few weeks for the bathing suits to come out. I was expecting it from the single mom down the block who liked to stand too close. I wasn’t expecting it from Ella. 

She signed her name with a flourish and passed back the clipboard. No contact. I exhaled a little too loudly.

She took the envelope, ripped it open and peeked inside. She crinkled her nose at the contents and tossed the envelope on a small table by the door.

“Nothing exciting.” She put her hands on her hips and turned back to me.

“Nice day, huh?” I was desperate to prolong the conversation. 

“It’s gorgeous. I’m about to quit work and hit the lake.” She winked, licking her bottom lip as she looked over my body. “How about a glass of lemonade?”

My pulse sped up. She never invited me in. 

“Sure. Thanks.” I watched Ella walk into the kitchen, the cover-up swishing around her hips. Heat spread from my gut to my chest. 

I closed the door and looked around her living room. I’d seen it over her shoulder during previous deliveries. Brightly painted walls. Modern furniture. Throw pillows everywhere. An air conditioner hummed in the window.

Ella returned with two tall glasses. I took one from her—our fingers dangerously close—and took three large gulps. The liquid soothed my throat, but the rest of my body was on fire. 

I studied Ella’s face. Nice, wide mouth. Her lips were bare and plump. Freckles covered her nose.

“Want to sit for a minute?” she asked.

Filthy scenarios ran through my head. Me, untying the cover-up. Ella, untying the bikini strings. Me, fastening my mouth to her neck and sliding my hand up her thigh. I’d slip my hand into her bikini bottom and see if she felt as soft as I imagined.

“Can’t,” I said. “But thanks for the drink.” 

Ella swirled her glass, her breasts shifting with each movement. The ice cubes clinked. I held the clipboard in front of my crotch, since SpeeDee shorts left little to the imagination. 

“Too bad you’re in a rush.” She tilted her head.

A bead of sweat ran between my shoulder blades. She moved closer, her scent filling my lungs. Citrus. Warm skin. I drained the glass and handed it to her. Our fingers brushed, and a hot zing traveled up my arm.

Ella’s eyes widened. Her gaze shifted down to my cock. I let the clipboard slip a little, revealing the bulge in my shorts. Ella grinned, a deep dimple forming in her cheek.

Shit. I was a goner for dimples. And long legs. And soft, dark hair. 

It had been a while since a woman devoured me with her eyes. I’d been living like a hermit since my last breakup. I worked and played baseball with friends. I spent a lot of time in my apartment, posting on my baseball message board or watching TV.

God, that sounded pathetic.

But the stirring in my cock reminded me I wasn’t dead.

“Gotta run.” I grabbed the knob and yanked the door open.

“No problem. See you tomorrow.”

I forced my legs to move and jogged back to the truck. 

Ella stood in the doorway while I started the engine and pulled away. I drove out of the neighborhood with the image of a bikini-clad Ella seared into my brain. I turned on the radio and tapped my fingers against the wheel, realizing I’d just been propositioned by a customer.   

I’d heard stories like this from co-workers. I’d seen the bikini babes and the wandering eyes.

But there was something about Ella that reeled me in. I wanted to know more about her. The bikini was a bold move. 

I liked that. 

If I got caught screwing a customer, I’d get fired. Goodbye decent summer hours. I’d get stuck in some cube farm like the rest of my friends, wearing a button-down shirt and khakis and sitting in long, boring meetings.

No, thanks. 

Still, it felt damn good to flirt a little. I wondered if Ella was single. No sign of a masculine presence. No big screen TV or giant work boots by the door. You could tell a lot about a person from a quick glance into their house.

Maybe she had a boyfriend.  

In any case, I intended to find out.