Bedroom Therapy: A Hot Romantic Suspense Novel

Phone sex, fantasies, and damaged relationships are only some of the topics Dr. Amanda O'Neal
has to deal with in her sexual advice column. As she helps her readers with their problems, she
muses on the irony of her own celibacy. Everything changes when sexy P.I. Zachary Grant
shows up to investigate the murder of Amanda's predecessor. Even as Zachary protects her from
a serial killer, he focuses on her own sexual fantasies–-and his. The two of them end up in a
supercharged relationship where anything they can imagine is possible in the bedroom. But will
the killer close in on Amanda before she and Zach can forge a lasting bond?

From the start of Bedroom Therapy:

Dear Esther,

I have a problem, and there's no one I can talk to about it. My husband is in the Navy, and he's
on a three-month cruise. Sometimes I get so lonely that I don't know what to do. And sometimes
I get so hot for him that it pushes me over the edge. I mean, I have to make myself come. It feels
good when I do it, and I always pretend he's making love to me. But afterwards I feel guilty.
What should I do?

Sincerely,

Lonely and Hot in Norfolk

Amanda put down the letter she'd been reading and ran a hand through her shoulder-length blond
hair. Standing up, she paced to the window of her office and looked out at a motorboat speeding
up the Choptank River. Through the clear glass, she could see a man and a woman, laughing and
enjoying the bright summer afternoon.

A pang of envy shot through her. They were outside on a beautiful Saturday afternoon in early
summer, having a good time, and she was cooped up in her little rented house, reading sexually
explicit letters.

She glanced back at the laptop computer on her desk, then down at her pale skin. She could take
the little machine out on the patio and get some tan on her legs while she worked.

The prospect was tempting, but she knew in her heart that she wasn't going to get much done out
there. She'd just be adding one more distraction.

Her gaze flicked to the letter she'd put down. It was one of a stack that the postman had delivered
this week—all in plain gray canvas sacks. Should she answer Worried in Norfolk or tackle a
different question?