Clare Chambers Author Small Pleasures Novelas e Histórias

I am grateful. To everyone who has ever inserted a clause. You know who you are. I hope it worked. To J., who said on the day I finished the first draft: the dedication should be for the people who inserted the clause. That is the dedication. Thank you for reading my mind. The building is forever. Both things are true. About the Author Clare Felix writes MM Romance and BL fiction about men who are complicated in specific and recognisable ways, and about the people who love them anyway.

Today I am home alone; Dean at work; like four important meetings going on so he couldn't miss it, and Holden is at the pack house doing fighting training with the teens. I'm in the kitchen keeping busy; I think my book called it nesting. I can't stay still so I'm making dinner; lamb casserole with dumplings and profiteroles for pudding. Omanomanom! The kitchen smells amazing! After finishing my cooking, I place the casserole in the fridge as well as the cream filled profiteroles. I start cleaning; despite having the staff around the house, I can't stop myself. ************ I feel slightly energetic today.

Chapter 1 Clara’s POV I sat cross-legged on the carpet in Jake’s living room, the bottle of vodka burning its way down my throat as I passed it to Sarah next to me, my best friend since high school who always dragged me into these stupid gatherings. The room was filled with the usual crowd from our college days, a mix of guys and girls lounging on the couch and floor, laughing too loud at nothing in particular because we were all a few drinks in and feeling that buzz that made everything seem funnier than it really was.

She looked like a hostess greeting late arrivals. “An early evening,” she observed, her voice smooth as the marble under our feet. Her gaze swept over Maya, taking in the designer blouse, the smudged mascara under her eyes. Then it landed on me, my own desperation no doubt written plainly on my face. “I trust it was illuminating.” I moved without thinking, stepping slightly in front of Maya, a feeble attempt at a shield. “It’s over.” “On the contrary.” Clara took a slow sip, her eyes glinting with a cold, intellectual interest. “It’s just become far more interesting.” She shifted her focus back to Maya, dismissing me. “Maya, you may go. Leo is asleep. Uninterrupted.”

"It's beautiful." The Office I took her to my office. The same office my father had used. The same desk, the same window, the same view of the city. But everything else had changed. Chloe sat across from me. "You're happy." "I am." "Adam?" "Still here. Still watching." She almost smiled. "And Clara?" "Fifteen. Stubborn. Beautiful. Folding paper cranes." Chloe nodded slowly. "She's lucky." "I'm lucky." We sat in silence for a moment. Then Chloe reached into her pocket. Pulled out a letter. Old. Worn. Folded and refolded until the creases were soft.

On one side of the bed, there was some paper, a phone charger in the bottom drawer, though there was a string of beads, some condoms, and tissues, which I guess all belonged to John. Wow, they are nasty, I chuckled to myself and stood to walk back over to the other side of the drawer, which I guess belongs to Amaris. The black panties were crumpled on the floor, like she’d just taken them off. I picked them up and sniffed them; they smelled like fresh wet pussy. And it makes my clit tingle. I couldn't believe I had just sniffed Amaris' panties, what a rush.

“It’s quiet here. Nothing ever happens. Some people like it that way.” Exactly, Marcus thought as he watched her go. Some people depend on it. After the pie, he did his first drive-by. Clara’s house was a small, neat bungalow on a quiet street. It looked idyllic, but Marcus saw the details Brenda would have missed. The heavy-duty lock on the door. The blinds that were drawn tight, even on a beautiful sunny day. It was a house that pretended to be welcoming while screaming to be left alone.

Chloe closed her eyes for a second after finishing the last line, her fingers still resting lightly on the diary. Okay. I need to lie down on the floor for a minute. And also maybe take a very, very cold shower. Clara. Girl. First of all, I hope you’re okay and that this is some next-level erotic fiction, because if it’s real… wow. Just wow.

Chapter 163 That morning, at the Drake family mansion. In the reading room on the second floor, Grandma Clara sat quietly in her old chair. A cup of green tea steamed on the small table. The book she usually read was still closed. The old woman's eyes stared blankly out the window. Occasionally, Grandma Clara sighed deeply. The door opened slowly. Chintya entered, wearing a pastel dress and carrying a box of homemade cookies. “Good morning, Grandmother Clara,” Chintya greeted softly, approaching with a sweet smile.

Turns out, it’s the small things that stay. Cassie’s glasses were still sitting there, the sunlight bouncing off one lens, like it was winking at me. I picked them up, smiled, thinking she’d come back for them tomorrow, maybe with that big grin and another wild story about some guy or some trip or whatever she’s chasing now. She never stays still long enough for the dust to find her. I kinda love that about her.