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Category: Lynn Chantale

Scooping The Litter Box #MFRWauthor

There are days I feel like Dexter’s mom when I’m running around the house. The only difference is I refuse to wear yellow rubber gloves. My gloves are green. Even though madge says that Palmolive is good for the hands, it’s rough on my nails. Besides, I hate washing dishes or actually the silverware. Another thing I would pay not to do is to scoop litter.


I know, two alternatives would be you use disposable plates and cutlery, but is that environmentally sound? Not to mention the expense of purchasing those items on a regular basis. It’s more economical to just pay someone to wash the dishes.


And the alternative to scooping litter would be to not have a cat. I’m working on that but in the meantime I have a self scooping litter box.


Self-scooping when it decides to work.  I’ve found that even trying to bribe or pay the kids, when they lived here, didn’t work. No one likes scooping the litter box.

A self-scooping or cleaning litter box is definitely the way to go. And the one I purchased worked great until it didn’t. And since I have two cates I have two litter boxes. One of the traditional kind since one of the cats is territorial about where he goes. So I’m stuck scooping.


Anybody want a black and white domestic short-hair? He’s free to a good home…



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“He loves you,” he mumbled. #MFRWhooks

Coming Soon!

For the first time in a long time, Randa Arnold is happy beyond measure. She has the love of her husband, Linc and her paramour Matteo. After the fulfillment of a mutual sex fantasy and an unbelievable night of passion her world is turned upside down.


Lincoln never expected his wife to fall in love with another man, even though he knew that was a possibility. He loves his wife, but just can't wrap his mind around her emotionally attached to someone else, so he does the only thing he can, he forces Matteo to leave.


Forcing Matteo to leave has some unexpected consequences. Randa is despondent, yet keeps a brave face. This only intensifies Linc's sense of guilt. If that weren't enough, someone is threatening his wife. His only chance at redemption and to get to the bottom of the threat is to bring Matteo back. Only one problem, the man can't be found.


Randa was halfway through her breakfast before she realized Lincoln hadn’t said another word. She looked at him. His shoulders and back were rigid, and his hands, though resting on his thighs, were balled into fists. She set the tray aside and touched his shoulder. He flinched.

“Is something wrong?”

“When did you and Matteo decide not to use protection?”

Careful not to upend her breakfast, Randa dragged the sheet around her body and sat next to him. She covered his hand with hers. It trembled, but she didn’t let go.

“We talked about this, Linc, remember?” She searched his profile for any hint of the conversation they’d had a few weeks ago and detected a slight flash of recognition when he opened and closed his mouth.

What had happened between the time Matteo left and Lincoln brought her breakfast? Again she searched his face for some type of clue. He clenched his jaw, causing the day-old stubble to stand out more prominently on his face, and she’d seen that tight lip lock enough to know this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation at all.

Seeing no sign, she sighed. “I put his test results on your nightstand. We, you and me, discussed that I felt comfortable enough, and he’d earned my trust, our trust. I thought it was okay to get rid of the condoms.” She plucked at a loose thread on the sheet. “It’s not like he’s gonna get me pregnant or anything.”

He shook off her hand and stood. “That is not what this is about!”

She met his hostile glare. “Then what is this about? Because it isn’t about Matteo going bareback.” She kept her tone even and cool.

Silence was his answer.

Randa barely banked her frustration. “We fulfilled each other’s fantasy, and now you want to pick a fight because it felt good?” She was desperately trying to find something, anything that might have happened or what could’ve caused this spark of—she struggled for the right word—insecurity?

Lincoln looked at her as he paced. Raw emotion painted his features in stark relief. Not anger as she’d initially thought, but vulnerability and maybe fear. She stood and stepped in his path.

“I don’t know what happened to cause you to feel this way, but know that I love you. Nothing will ever change that.”

He shook his head and moved away. She grabbed his biceps.

“Don’t do that.” She didn’t bother to hide the plea from her voice. “This poly thing only works if we’re honest with each other and our partners. Don’t act like whatever happened isn’t real or affecting you.”

“He loves you,” he mumbled.

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The Contractor’s Baby #MFRWhooks

Embittered by divorce, Dexter Carson resolves to live without romantic love or a family of his own. When he arrives at a job site, the last thing he expects is his instant attraction to the ebony-haired client. But work comes first, and he's determined to maintain a professional distance, no matter how his body reacts to her soft scent and feminine curves.

Beautiful and intelligent, Molly Crosby has always doubted a man would love her, and now that she's forced to care for her infant niece, all hope for a man who will cherish her seems lost. But when she meets Dexter, she longs to discover what's behind the rugged contractor’s solemn demeanor, and to win more of his  devastating smiles. 


When a bombshell threatens the tender relationship that’s developing, will Molly's love be enough to overcome the scars from his past, or will Dexter walk away from his only chance at love and family? 

Available on


They sat in a back booth with the baby in the corner next to Dexter. From the moment they sat down, Molly had managed to keep Dexter talking about his life, and he’d managed to keep her laughing. 


“I can’t believe how much we have in common.” She dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. “It’s like we’re soul mates.” 


He grudgingly had to agree with her. “You are so down-to-earth.” 


Reaching over, she snagged a tortilla chip and scooped up a generous portion of the homemade spicy salsa. “You expected me to be more prissy?” 


He’d gone this far, might as well finish eating his shoe. “Yeah, actually. Be careful, that salsa’s really hot.” 


She coughed and sputtered. Tears streamed down her cheeks while she fanned her mouth. “Hot is not the word for it.” 


“Try this.” He offered her a section of lime, then pushed her glass of water toward her. “I tried to warn you.” 


She sipped her water. After a moment she sat back, a wide grin on her face. “I like spicy.” She reached for another chip. 


Amusement curved his lips when she went through the same antics again, this time without the coughing. As long as the heat made her happy. On impulse, he placed his hand over hers, again surprised at the softness of her skin. With his thumb he drew lazy circles on the back of her hand. “I like you, Molly. I really do.” 

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