Houston, Texas, 1965
Margie Dunsford relishes her role as the leader of the astronaut wives. With her children away and her guests canceling, she faces a terrifying prospect: an entire Thanksgiving weekend alone with her husband.
Mitch knows the fire has gone out in his marriage, but he fears if he attempts to reignite it, Margie will freeze him out forever. Now he’s determined to use the distraction-free weekend to win her back.
Twenty years of resentments can’t be erased in a few fevered days, and Margie and Mitch will have to learn how to speak with their hearts instead of their hurts if they are going to save their marriage.
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Dear Author labeled it a recommended read, SmexyBooks gave it an A, and All About Romance called it “intensely emotional” and “carefully crafted.”
Frequently Asked Questions
- How long is A Midnight Feast? 44K, so long novella length.
- What’s the heat level for A Midnight Feast? Hot but not erotic.
- Are there any content notes? On-page sex, alcohol, and cigarette use; profanity; on-page near infidelity and general marital unhappiness; loss of a friend/grief.
- Will A Midnight Feast make sense if I haven’t read the other books in the series? Yes, but it’s definitely embedded in the series.
- Will A Midnight Feast be available in print? Yes–eventually. We’re planning to write one more novella in the series and then to repackage AMF with it. At that point, we’ll do a print book. Join the series mailing list for details.
- Is there infidelity in this book? If you’ve read Star Dust, you know that Mitch likes to brag about being a ladies’ man. We explore what’s true, or not, about those stories in A Midnight Feast. Marriage in trouble is definitely an angsty trope, and this book might not be for every reader.
- I’d like to review the book. Awesome! We hope you love it, but if you don’t, we support your right to review it honestly however and wherever you want. Reviews are for readers not writers. While bad reviews are unpleasant, Gen and I will live and we won’t harass you about it. Promise.
With the Antares astronauts coming up and everything poisoned by his screw ups, there were no more excuses. He had to chomp down on this bullet, or else he was going to lose his wife forever.
She stooped to pick up the napkin, the one that hadn’t done quite what she’d wanted, but as she straightened, he took a step toward her and set his hands on her waist. The jolt of it was immediate, like when an engine turned over for the first time after a rebuild.
Christ, how long had it been since he’d touched her?
She’d bought separate beds a few years back and even he wasn’t dumb enough to miss that hint. From then on, he’d kept his hands to himself.
Sure, there’d probably been small, almost accidental brushes since. There were eight of them in the house, after all. You could hardly avoid bumping into each other in the kitchen sometimes.
But this? Deliberate and with the house empty?
Well, the circuit completed and the energy between them glowed.
Margie gasped and looked at his hands—and she didn’t step away. His hold was loose. She could break it in an instant. And she didn’t.
So he tugged, gently. She didn’t budge. She only watched him. How far could he take this before she shut him down? If he was taking the risk, it might as well be for something worthwhile, and Margie was worth everything.
He pulled again. Her mouth was set in a hard line, but at last, she stepped toward him.
Mitch’s heart was slamming into his ribs, but he kept his breathing level and his voice cool. “I want to look from here.”
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