In my book “House Mother” the main character, Amber Lloyd, discovers that the five men she has agreed to have sex with are all afflicted with one form of sexual dysfunction or another. In today’s world of personal and sexual relationships we all suffer from some form of sexual dysfunction.
Women stuck in less than sexually satisfying marriages, and men unable to perform because of physical, social or stress related causes, have become the norm rather than the exception in our society. Those of us with an acceptable sex life often take what we have for granted and never realize what we had until through complacency or arrogance we lose it.
Amber finds herself in a very different situation than she thought she was signing up for, when she agreed to become House Mother for her five middle age men. She tries her best to help them overcome their difficulties, but it’s not easy, and the things that plague these guys would be better treated by healthcare professionals, but she is determined to do all that she can for them.
Sexual dysfunction often goes unspoken and under-treated because of the stigma associated with it. For men it suggests a lack of strength and manliness to be less than capable at sex. For women sexual dysfunction in themselves or in their partners creates a feeling of worthlessness. They feel unloved or unwanted and even though the man in her life may confess the problem is his, and not hers, she still feels false guilt at not being able to spark his libido.
Women are not immune to sexual dysfunction and often suffer either in silence or in abstinence with their own form of intimacy issues. We as humans tend to list sexual issues in a category in-and-of itself instead of realizing that a healthy sex life is as important to our wellness as are other medical and health related issues. Sex is too often the unspoken black sheep of the health care business and some are so embarrassed about sexual difficulties that they often won’t discuss the issue even with their doctor.
Amber finds herself in the middle of sexual dysfunction issues more by default than by choice and does her best to help find solutions for the men in her life. Men who are afraid or unwilling to discuss their problems with the people from whom they should be asking for such help.
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Blurb:
All Amber Lloyd wanted was a new start. With her abusive ex-husband a thing of the past and a modest divorce settlement in the bank, the future looked hopeful.
But as Amber quickly finds out, a young woman making it alone in a new city is much more expensive than she initially thought, and with no work experience, her options are limited. When an unusual job offer presents itself, Amber is hesitant, but her financial situation leaves her with few other choices.
Amber soon finds herself living the life of luxury as House Mother to five middle-aged men, but what initially seemed to be a straightforward contract turns out to be more complicated than she bargained for as each of the men comes with his own set of sexual problems. Is Amber in over her head or has she found her true calling?
House Mother is a crazy ride into the world of sexual dysfunction told first-person by a woman with compassion and empathy for her clients. Some are more damaged than others, but they all have one thing in common – they all need the unique services provided by the House Mother.
Buy links:
Amazon (global link)
iBooks
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Barnes and Noble
Excerpt from House Mother: The Contract
“Why don’t you come with me,” I said as I took his hand and walked him to the first bedroom. “Here, let me help you,” I suggested as I unbuttoned his shirt and had him sit on the bed. I got down and removed his shoes and socks then went to his pants and unbuckled his trousers.
As I lowered his pants down his legs he said, “Okay, but leave the shorts on.”
“Sure, Ray, whatever you say.” I had him lay on the bed and removed my clothes.
“What are you doing?” he said.
“I’m getting naked like you.”
“Why?”
“I thought you’d want to see.”
“I can’t…”
“You can look, and you can touch and feel me, can’t you?”
“Yeah, I suppose. I know what you’re trying to do and believe me it won’t work.”
“It doesn’t have to work. Not with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s more to sex than penetrating a vagina with a penis. Sex is mostly up here,” I said, tapping his forehead.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t trickle down like economics.”
“Economics doesn’t trickle down. There’s too much greed at the top,” I said.
“You’ve got that right,” he agreed. I was down to bra and panties and I unhooked my bra and let my breasts free. I reached down and pulled my panties to the floor and stepped out of them.
“What do you think?”
“Beautiful,” he said. “Almost as beautiful as my Anna when we first got married.”
“Why thank you, Ray. That’s a nice complement. Would you like to touch?” I said.
He sat up on the edge of the bed and I stepped in between his legs. He tentatively massaged my breasts, and I gave him a moment to play with my nipples between his fingers.
“You want to kiss me?” I asked.
“Okay,” he said. I went to him and gave him a hot wet kiss. I let my tongue swirl around his mouth and sucked his breath into my lungs as he continued to massage my breasts.
“You can kiss them if you like.”
He took my left breast in his mouth and suckled it and then the right. He was good at what he was doing, and my nipples and my vagina responded appropriately. While I had him in this position, I ran my fingers through his hair, expecting it to come off in my hands. I discovered that full head of wavy dark brown hair of his was all real. I could have sworn it was a rug.
“You’re making me very wet,” I said.
“Can I?” He said moving his hand down to my crotch.
“I wish you would.”
Buy links:
Amazon (global link): https://smarturl.it/HMKindle
iBooks: https://books.apple.com/book/house-mother/id1466696140
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/en/ebook/house-mother
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Amber_Lloyd_House_Mother?id=236cDwAAQBAJ
Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/house-mother-amber-lloyd/1131079636?ean=9781910908372
Author bio:
Amber Lloyd is my pen name but for me it’s much more than that. It’s often hard to separate the author Amber Lloyd from the character I write about in my books. My life is so different from Amber’s that when I was asked to produce a Bio for my books I was torn between the one I created for my alter ego and my real life. When I compared the two I realized that no one would be the least bit interested in the one over the other so I wrote what you see below. I will let you decide which one you think I chose.
I was born and raised in a small town in upstate New York called Monticello. It’s mostly a farm community and if you didn’t know the true latitude, you would think you were somewhere in the deep south. The city is a bastion of country western music complete with men in cowboy hats and women wearing jeans and shit kicking boots.
I was a gawky kid who loved climbing trees and riding horses. My parents were not country people. They lived in the city and worked as marketing specialists. My dad groomed me to join them in their business and convinced me to pursue a college course that would introduce me to the world of marketing. They wanted me to stay close by and apply to SUNY at New Paltz but I had a different idea. I chose the only college a good distance away from Hee Haw New York that would accept my less than stellar high school grades and SAT scores.
The College I chose was in Kansas where I met my husband. Ron was a year ahead of me and when he graduated, he convinced me to move to Oklahoma and become his wife. The marriage didn’t work out for either of us. Unlike the character in my book, Ron is a good guy, but I don’t think I ever loved him. We had very different ideas about life and love and it was more my faults and issues than his that destroyed our relationship.
My move to Florida was not as much an escape as a running home to my parents who had moved from New York to Clearwater. My tom-boy youth took over and I got a job as a deputy Sheriff. I lived with my parents for several years until I could get my own place. I manage to sprinkle some of my law enforcement experience into my books and base some of my characters on people I met or had to deal with on the job. My descriptions of Amber’s escape and the rest of the story is my fictional account of what I imagined would have happened if I was her, but alas I am me, and all I get to do is write about her exciting life as the House Mother.
You can find me on my site.
Blog tour organized by Writer Marketing Services.
The question this week is whether life exists outside of writing. For me, the better question is, does writing exist outside of life? Without life experiences, is there anything upon which to base a short story, novella, or novel? I doubt it. Even a splendid imagination needs some comparison in order to work. If you only know one place or one type of person, it would be much harder to develop a well-rounded story line.
cities like San Francisco and Chicago to small places like Appleton, WI and Greenwood, SC—we’ve met and made friends with people from all walks of life, helping me to give depths to my stories and characters.
Churchill, so that’s who we’re going with. Well, actually, he first said that there is no one he would kill or be willing to die to have dinner with. That’s my literal husband.
again but he persevered. He was not one to say, “I hope I will survive this,” he was one to say, “I will prevail. I will have victory.” And he did.
never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in except to convictions of honor and good sense.
I really don’t care for the term bucket list. I’d rather think that my wishes of things to do reside in a basket full of flowers. “Bucket” is a little too rustic for me. I prefer something like this basket of cheery daffodils, each one labeled with something I want to do before I die.
Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. Of course, the movie was about self-discovery, and not just doing things you’ve always wanted to do before the Grim Reaper says your time has run out. Since I feel like—for the moment—that I’ve discovered everything about myself I care to, my Basket of Flowers List is about doing things for the sheer desire of doing them.
an eighteen wheeler. When our friends were older and dangling grandchildren on their knees, we were moving around the country chasing consulting jobs. We seized the day in every way we could. But there are still a few things I’d like to do someday. (Someday implies hope and not “better hurry up.”)
exploring it each time I’ve had the chance. Do I have a shot at doing it again? Sadly, probably no.
Carol Schoenig used to joke with co-workers that when she retired she was going to sit on a beach and write scintillating romance novels.
of marvel, a bit of mystery. Now it felt much more scientific. A big rock-like entity to be explored. It had nothing to do with romance and love and everything to do with accomplishment an changed perceptions. It’s impossible to explain to someone who didn’t watch it that day the pride that filled all of us. Or the thrill. Or the fear that something would happen to keep our guys from coming home.
I think it would be very hard to write and never put yourself in the story. I mean, who knows us better than us? And even if we don’t want to, little bits of ourselves find their way into what we write, almost whether we want them to or not.
because that’s more fun, and strangely, enough, looking back, I write heroines most often who look like what I’ve always thought I’d like to look: taller, slimmer, red hair and green or bright blue eyes. Sometimes real life is not so magical but we all have dreams and I like to add mine to my books.
I sit writing this on the day we Americans celebrate our independence from the British. Jack and I spent the day with friends, eating fruit, barbecued pulled pork on a bun, cole slaw and fries. We enjoyed iced tea—both sweetened an un- —and that most American of desserts, apple pie. Like many of you, we celebrated the Fourth of July unmindful of the heat, concentrating more on the coldness of the watermelon.
sipping a wonderfully warm, bracing blend such as Darjeeling while nibbling on tiny sandwiches, cake and biscuits (cookies to us Yanks). And when you ordered tea in a restaurant they would be faster to recognize when you need more hot water. Now you’re basically ignored. 🙁
pride.) Anyway, if we’d remained British, we could point to things like Stonehenge, York Minster, and Beatrix Potter’s house and say to the rest of the world, “Look what we have, nyah, nyah, nyah!”
I thank the men and women who have fought—and still fight—to allow us our bar-b-ques and our arguments and celebrations. Without you, we would be driving on the left and eating bangers and mash instead of hotdogs. Thank you for your sacrifice.
There was a time in my life where I wore a dress or skirt every day and dressed up for going to the theater or out to dinner. When Jack was at VMI, we attended five formal events a year. And I loved it. Then I got real.
town either. The last time I suggested he wear a tie to an event he looked at me as though I had two heads.
A few years ago, my daughter Jeanette hit a couple of brick walls in her life and decided to take a break and travel to the USA. She wasn’t to know that meeting and falling in love with an American named Joe would be the beginning of a complete sea change for her. With that sea change came obstacles – a huge ocean separated Australia and America and her three months tourist visa demanded she return home. After a lot of soul searching, she decided to pick up sticks and stay in the U.S. with Joe.
serious about living there permanently. To obtain a conditional green card, she had to be married to Joe for one year, have a co-sponsor and not break the law. After that she could apply to have the conditions removed to become a permanent legal resident. And then, she faced another three years before she was eligible to apply for citizenship. Last year the process began, and in April 2019 she travelled to Detroit for the test on American history and government. She passed all the hurdles and finally, the citizenship ceremony was held on 20 June.
concerned, Jeanette is Aussie born and bred and now America is her home. Becoming a citizen was absolutely the right thing to do. Each time I visit, her American family and friends make me very welcome. And, the nicest compliment of all, my son-in-law Joe hoists the Aussie flag up on the flagpole. I feel very much at home there.