Authors: Jaffarian;others

Love at Large

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L
OVE
A
T
L
ARGE

Elizabeth Angus

Judy Bagshaw

Jennifer Harrington

Sue Ann Jaffarian

Nancy Trausch

Eileen Wilson

And Featuring a Collaborative Story by the writers at BBW Romance Writing

Draumr Publishing, LLC

Maryland

Love At Large

The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine, or journal.

Any resemblance to actual people and events is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction.

Cover art by Patricia Storms.

Kindle Edition

PUBLISHED BY DRAUMR PUBLISHING, LLC

www.draumrpublishing.com

Columbia, Maryland

Printed in the United States of America

F
OREWORD

Danger - Large Love At Work!

by Sue Ann Jaffarian

I have a dream…

• That one day the lingerie billboard I pass on my way to work will feature a size 22 model in a fire-engine red teddy;

• That one day a plus size actress will put an imprint of her big fat behind in the cement in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre in Hollywood;

• That one day interviews with talented and accomplished women, who also happen to be large, will not include questions and comments about weight;

• That one day books with full-figured heroines will be the norm, not specialty fiction shunned by major publishing houses.

Love at Large is part of that dream; at least it’s a healthy foot in the right direction.

Plump, fat, plus size, zaftig, full-figured, chubby…no matter what the word, it is no secret that in our weight obsessed society women who are defined by these and similar adjectives are treated as though they are invisible or seen as merely cardboard cutouts with stereotypical personalities.

Generally, in media, whether it is film, television, books, or even magazines, full-figured women are given the roles of good sport, helpful neighbor and/or gal pal. Seldom, if ever, is seen a fleshy vamp or a sexy and desirable woman who just happens to shop at the plus-size stores. They sell laundry soap and laxatives, not perfume, cars or beer; always a bridesmaid, never the bride. Sometimes, they don’t even make the cut as a bridesmaid. After all, what fashion conscious bride would want a double helping of lime green taffeta in her wedding photos? Right?

But the reality is that plump (fat, plus size, zaftig, full-figured, chubby, etc., etc.) women are brides and bridesmaids, as well as girl friends and significant others. They are as capable of being sexy sirens and exciting lovers as they are of being best friends and dependable employees. If not, then who is buying all that plus size lingerie? And please don’t say it’s that quiet man who lives on the next block with his mother.

Love at Large is a courageous book of charming romantic stories; each one a celebration of the lives and loves of full-figured women. It is a book of fiction featuring real women searching for real love and finding that men do indeed send long-stemmed red roses to women with double digit dress sizes.

Within the pages of Love at Large, you will find spunky, attractive, sexy, and smart heroines. These are women who love, are loved, and make love. They are all that and a bag of chips; and they make no apologies for not being the fat-free variety.

S
UE
A
NN
J
AFFARIAN
is the author of the award-winning Odelia Grey mystery series which features a plus-size paralegal as an amateur sleuth.

W
ITH
M
ANY
T
HANKS

To Judi McCoy, for her endless editing and her constant support. Judi is the author of the upcoming release, “Wanted: One Special Kiss”

To Heather Donovan, for her creation and leadership of the BBW Romance Writing Group.

Heather is the author of the upcoming release, “Love and Kilts: Book One of the SpiritBadge Series”

To Jennfier Harrington, for all her time and effort in getting this anthology organized and ready for publishing!

You can see Jennifer’s first release right here in Love at Large!

C
ONTENTS

“Illustrated Woman” by Elizabeth Angus

“A Work of Art” by Judy Bagshaw

“Dirty Laundry” by Jennifer Harrington

“Love Bytes” by Sue Ann Jaffarian

“A Change in Direction” by Nancy Trausch

“An Unforgettable Kiss” by Eileen Wilson

“Passion Unmasked” by BBW Romance Writing Group

T
HE
I
LLUSTRATED
W
OMAN

Elizabeth Angus

C
HAPTER
O
NE

I
’D BEEN THINKING
about getting a tattoo for the longest time. It was far from a whim. I’d decided at last that acquiring one was a good way to celebrate turning thirty.

So there I was, in a tattoo place named Rip’s Parlour. It was little more than a shopfront, consisting of a minute waiting room with walls plastered with sheets of potential skin art, ranging from the ubiquitous roses and hearts and skulls to dramatic Native American pieces that would decorate an entire torso.

At the rear was a tinier backroom almost filled with a sink topped with a cupboard and an adjustable chair that looked like a dentist’s instrument of torture. The back wall boasted a huge mirror, presumably to watch the action as parts of one’s body were adorned, parts not visible unless one was a contortionist.

“Go to Rip’s,” my friend, Jim, had said. “My sister-in-law Sharon knows him, and I hear he’s good. Keeps a clean place.”

No one else of my acquaintance had ventured into a tattoo parlour, and this at least was a little better than playing eeny-meeny-miney-mo with the phonebook. A little.

Now that I was there, about to consign my precious and virgin skin to the hands of a stranger, my nerves were dancing a military tattoo of their own in my stomach. I clutched the piece of paper with my design and willed the nerves away. It had taken me several hours of sketching before I came up with one I’d be happy to permanently etch onto my person.

Before I could turn tail and run, the man behind the counter looked up and smiled.

“Hi,” he said, proffering a paw the size of Texas. “My name’s Rip.”

I extricated my hand from his considerable grip with minor difficulty and returned the courtesy.

“Remy. Remy Martin.” I waited a beat.

“Like the brandy?” he asked.

“Yep.” I gave him full points for recognizing the derivation, which was far better than the blank incomprehension that often followed my introduction. “The one craving that my mother couldn’t satisfy while pregnant with me.”

I refrained from enlightening him regarding the cravings she had been able to satisfy: pickled onions and ice cream, gravy and vegemite sandwiches, choc-dipped parsnips. Grown men have been known to blanch at Mama’s gastronomic fancies.

I’d long been glad to end up with the more innocuous yet rather spirited appellation of Remy. Imagine going through life as Parsnip Martin. Just the thought made me shudder.

I offered Rip my sketch, glad to see that my hand had steadied.

“Nice,” he observed. “Did you draw that yourself?”

I nodded. We both gazed down at the sketch. My design depicted a delicate seahorse, about an inch and a half high, in shades of green and golden yellow. Sinuous strands of seaweed swirled around her, and her tail spiralled down a slender stem. Ripples of blue twining about both seahorse and seaweed suggested the currents of the ocean sweeping past, and the whole was outlined in black. I was pleased with the final result of my sketching.

“Couldn’t find something you liked on display?” Rip tipped his chin at the sheets of mass-produced designs adorning the walls.

Surprised at the question, I hesitated. I’d expected the tattooist to just take my money and get on with it. I wasn’t prepared for curiosity regarding my motives.

“Sorry, none of my business,” Rip apologised, shrugging. “I just wondered…”

“No, it’s okay.” I gathered my thoughts. “I didn’t want to permanently acquire something impersonal; something I’d chosen from a wall of mass-produced designs that anyone could have for the right price. I wanted something unique. Special.”

Great, now I sounded like a prize idiot.

“Ah.” He smiled, and suddenly I didn’t feel quite so stupid after all. “Is that the size you wanted it?”

I nodded.

“Where are you planning to put it?”

I made a vague gesture at my upper left chest.

He grinned. It was a lovely grin, I thought, bemused.