Lavender Secrets

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lavendersecrets_lg Sandra Barret

212 pp. ● 5.06×7.81
$12.95 (Pb) ● $6.95 (eb)
ISBN 978-1-939562-27-2 (pb)
● 978-1-934452-84-4 (eb)

FICTION – Lesbian
FICTION – Romance – Contemporary

About the Book

They say opposites attract. So when Math major Emma LeVanteur takes English Professor Nicole Davis’s class, the sparks flying between them should have meant an end to Emma’s romantic dry spell. Except that Nicole is straight. And engaged.

When Emma learns Nicole is getting married, she gives in to a moment of insanity and agrees to plan the wedding. All this crazy attraction can only lead to trouble . . . and who knows what else.


“At first, Lavender Secrets appears to be another romance, but, as the story unfolds, it is clear that much more is developing. These people are trying to learn how they fit into each other’s lives. They are also struggling to understand what they want from those lives and the people who are involved in them. It is about making connections, altering some connections and learning to sever others.“The book is about learning how to put the pieces of your puzzle together so that you get the best fit possible between all of your relationships to create the most satisfying life that you can. And the bonus in this book is that everything takes place in what is a plain good story. Lavender Secrets is well worth the time you will spend reading it.” — Lynne Pierce, Piercing Fiction


PROFESSOR DAVIS LEANED forward on the old oak lectern, facing the class. “Sonnet 18. ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’ Who can tell me where the change occurs in this sonnet?”

Emma watched three hands shoot up in the front of the class. The front always answered. That’s why she sat in the back. Volta, line nine, “But thy eternal summer shall not fade,” she thought. Online CliffsNotes were a gift from God. English was not her best subject by any measure. But an hour and a half to stare at the professor three times a week was worth every minute of plot, theme, and symbolism torture.

She shifted in her hard metal chair to get a better view of Davis. The tall British woman moved to the chalkboard as Emma studied her lean form. Tan slacks and a blue cardigan led up to Davis’s shoulder-length hair, brown with golden highlights. Emma knew the highlights were a recent addition, but she approved of the change. Not that Davis cared if she approved or not, since Emma was just auditing the class. She suffered through these lectures, surrounded by English majors, Liberal Arts types, and who knows who else. All so she could sit in the back and bask in the beautiful British accent of Professor Nicole Davis. And beautiful British smile, and British hips, and British backside.

“Excellent,” Davis said, jarring Emma back to the present. One of the over-achieving front-row types must have given the correct answer. “Now which of Shakespeare’s favorite themes appears in this sonnet?”

Love, changing of the seasons, use of time, Emma thought. She didn’t volunteer the answer, though. Her photographic memory, which knew every word of the Shakespeare CliffsNotes, was an unfair advantage over her classmates. So she kept quiet. Of course, the fact that she turned into a complete idiot whenever Davis spoke to her also helped to keep her mouth shut. She was probably the only Harvard graduate student in Mathematics who obsessed over Shakespeare and other early poets this semester.

She remembered how she had bumped into Davis at the bookstore during winter break. Davis had been arguing with one of the student drones who worked at the store in that irresistible British accent. Emma had glanced around a pile of first-year Physics books to see who was telling the clerk off in such polite but scorching terms. She hadn’t been prepared for the sudden arousal that had swept over her at the first sight of Professor Davis. She’d waited to pump the frazzled clerk to find out who she was. She had already given herself over to a hopeless infatuation when she signed up to audit one of Davis’s classes. It wasn’t until later that she realized she’d committed herself to studying her least favorite subject, Shakespeare’s English.

Davis’s rich accent filled Emma’s thoughts. She paced down the aisles as she lectured. Her tan slacks clung to long legs with a hint of strong thighs just beneath the curves of a well-exercised backside. Emma sank back into her chair when Davis came down her aisle. Her soft brown eyes met Emma’s for an instant and then moved on to the next student. Emma studied her notebook just long enough for her flushed face to regain its natural color. This is why I come to class every day, she thought. Pathetic, but true. After weeks of auditing the class, Davis had noticed her, even if it was only a passing glance.

“Next week’s assignment will be to read aloud and analyze a sonnet of your choice.”

Emma joined the class in a group groan. Davis had one of these open readings every month, and Emma hated it. The room became a shuffle of backpacks and papers as the class readied to leave. She lingered at her desk as the rest of the class got up.

“If you need help, you know my office hours,” Davis said over the heads of the departing class.

Emma stuffed her notebook in her pack and made her way up the aisle to the exit. She managed to be the last one at the door.

“Sorry, could you hold that open for me?” Davis called.

Emma stood with her mouth hanging open. Nice impression, she thought. She shut her trap and waited as Davis hoisted a box from under the lectern and walked out the door that Emma held open.

“Cheers,” Davis said, and stepped past Emma.

Emma felt her face burn as Davis passed by. She caught the scent of her perfume and struggled to recognize it. She regained an inch of sanity and followed Davis down the hallway, close enough to watch, but far enough to not be an obvious stalker. She hoped.