Married on Mondays

( 49 )


Sisters Foxy, Victoria, and Déjà run a prosperous bakery in the small town of Crème City by day and fulfilling client's adult fantasies by night at Crème Fantasyland. Although business is booming, life at home doesn't prove as successful.

Foxy can't seem to get her husband to show her any type of affection and won't leave her one true love-an ex-fiancé who's still very much in love with her. "Trysexual" Victoria wears her heart on her sleeve and falls for any man or woman who ...

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Married on Mondays

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Sisters Foxy, Victoria, and Déjà run a prosperous bakery in the small town of Crème City by day and fulfilling client's adult fantasies by night at Crème Fantasyland. Although business is booming, life at home doesn't prove as successful.

Foxy can't seem to get her husband to show her any type of affection and won't leave her one true love-an ex-fiancé who's still very much in love with her. "Trysexual" Victoria wears her heart on her sleeve and falls for any man or woman who can bring her to climax. Dominatrix Déjà, the toughest sister of the three, is perfect on the outside, but her need to control everything around her may prove detrimental to their success-and her marriage.

All is well in the land of Crème, until spurned lover and police chief, Rain makes an indecent proposal and attempts to shut down their business. With the whole town standing behind them (and not just because some of them happen to be clients), the women must decide whether to stand together and fight, or risk losing their business and, possibly, their freedom.

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Editorial Reviews

"Sensually written . . . sure to have the nature of all who read it rise."
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780446582339
  • Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
  • Publication date: 4/28/2011
  • Pages: 304
  • Sales rank: 411,184
  • Product dimensions: 5.10 (w) x 7.90 (h) x 1.00 (d)

Meet the Author

HoneyB is the pseudonym of Mary B. Morrison. Mary is the New York Times bestselling author of She Ain't the One (co-authored with Carl Weber), Nothing Has Ever Felt Like This, Somebody's Gotta Be On Top, He's Just A Friend, Never Again, Once More and Soulmates Dissipate.

Mary lives in Oakland, California, with her son, Jesse Byrd, Jr., nearby at the University of California at Santa Barbara.

Visit Mary at

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First Chapter

Married on Mondays

By HoneyB

Grand Central Publishing

Copyright © 2010 HoneyB
All right reserved.

ISBN: 9780446582322



Four years of marriage.

Three years of adultery.

Two men.

One woman.

Mondays were her hardest days to stay focused. Being one man’s woman and another man’s wife was physically manageable but emotionally draining, especially on Mondays when she had to spend “quality time” with her husband.

Four years ago she stood at the altar. Vowing to forsake all others, she longed to fold back her veil and kiss her ex-fiancé, who sat center aisle, fifth row. She glanced over her shoulder, blinked him a kiss with her eyes, then faced her husband. The tall, dark, and handsome man who stood in front the pastor wasn’t the only man she was in love with. Her ex-fiancé could have easily been the better man. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop loving him.

“If anyone has cause why this man and woman should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now,” the pastor said.

Whew! There were valid reasons why she couldn’t honor or obey her ex-fiancé, but she cherished him the same as her husband before and after she’d said, “I do.”

Foxy leaned across her desk, handed her sister DéJà the deposit envelope for the money earned from servicing their customers and clients. She stood, hugged her sister Victoria. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

“Everything will be all right,” Victoria said, hugging Foxy. “Open up to your husband tonight. Tell him the truth. If you don’t want to tell him, pray. God will show you the way.”

Foxy pushed Victoria away. Her half smile represented her love for her sisters. The other half that should’ve shown her happiness to see her husband remained suppressed. A wise wife never confessed her affairs.

“Be on time tomorrow,” DéJà scolded. “We’re not going to keep baking your pastries for you.”

“Why can’t you empathize with Foxy? You know she’s emotionally distraught,” Victoria said. “Take your time tomorrow. I don’t mind covering for you.”

“Well, I do,” DéJà retorted.

Hugging DéJà, Foxy said, “I love you too, sis. Bye Victoria and thanks. Y’all have fun for me this evening.” Carrying assorted pastries to her car, Foxy exhaled, placing the white box on the passenger seat.

Opening her legs led to opening her heart. Or was it the other way around? Loving two men had emotionally torn her apart. Three years into her affair, she didn’t know how to end her marriage or her relationship with her ex.

As she exited the driveway of Crème her cell phone buzzed. Seeing his name on her caller ID, she smiled from the inside out, then answered, “Hey, you.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked without saying hello.

“Same ole, you know. Got that Monday morning blues straight through Monday afternoon.”

He moaned in her ear, “How’s my pussy?”

Her pussy contracted with excitement. Her body tingled.

“Touch her for me,” he whispered.

This time when he spoke, she came. Her vaginal muscles pulsated repeatedly. She hadn’t touched herself. The sound of his alluring voice made her cum. “Stop it. I’m driving.”

“Then pull over and take off your thong for me. Stick your finger in your pussy for me. I bet she’s hot just the way I like her.”

“Good-bye,” Foxy said.

His voice softened with sincerity. “I love you, Foxy. I will always love you.”

Why did he have to constantly remind her how much he loved her? Flowers, gifts, massages, dancing, movies, art galleries, museums, comedy shows, Broadway plays—all the things her husband used to do her ex had never stopped doing.

She reflected on the day he’d taken her to see The Color Purple the night before the Tony Awards. Fifth row. Aisle seats. Oprah and Gayle sat five rows behind them in the middle of that row. When Celie and Nettie cried, she cried too. Her tears played patty-cake with her ex-man’s soul. He was her best friend. Everybody needed somebody to hug, to love. Her ex was always there for her. That was more than she could attest to for her workaholic husband.

“I love you too,” she said ending the call.

Foxy made a U-turn to take the long route home. She drove slower than usual. Headed north instead of south on Shoreline Drive to avoid passing her ex-fiancé’s house. Three-thirty traffic was light. Her pussy was moist. When would her husband realize she was no longer a happily married woman? Did he care?

She pressed the engine button, turned off her car, then watched shoppers load grocery bags in their trunks. Women with kids, unaccompanied by men, got in and out of vehicles. She wondered if the women had husbands that used to grocery shop with them the way her husband used to shop with her.

Walking into the store, Foxy called her dad.

He answered, “Hey, how’s my number one princess?”

Hearing his voice made her smile. No man had treated her better than her father. When she was a little girl that was a good thing. Now that she was a woman, when her father gave her away, she thought her husband would treat her better. She was wrong. “I’m good, Daddy, how are you?” she asked, inspecting the filet mignon.

“Doing great. You sound perturbed. What’s… ah, the Monday blues,” he said. “I told you to think like me. If you decide to do something, don’t worry about it. If you’re going to worry about it, don’t do it, princess.”

“I’m not you, Daddy.”

“I know, princess. And I know you’re not happy, but whatever you do, don’t have an affair. We men aren’t as forgiving as you women. Hey, I’m trying to downsize without layoffs. I have to go into a meeting. I’ll call you later. Love you,” he said.

“Love you too, Daddy,” Foxy said, dropping her phone in her purse. She tossed red potatoes, fresh spinach, and a bottle of her husband’s favorite merlot into the shopping cart. Thinking about her husband somberly, she scanned her debit card, waited for the bagger to place her items in the cart.

Foxy missed her man. She visualized his dick inside her, his hands caressing her breasts. She smiled placing the bags in the trunk. Her body jerked. Another orgasm surprised her. Hadn’t seen him since Saturday night. Yesterday she was at church with her sisters. She refused to go to the altar when Victoria had asked. Her sister was not her savior and going to the altar would’ve only satisfied Victoria. Foxy knew she was no saint but neither were her married sisters.

On her drive home from the store, Foxy called her man. “Hey, baby. I just called back to say I miss you.”

“Stop by for a minute so I can hug my sweet baby,” he said.

“You know I have to have dinner with him. I’ll see you in the morning. I love you.”

“Love you too,” he said.

Foxy carried the food to the kitchen where she seasoned the meat and chopped the potatoes. She showered, brushed her teeth. Gathered her hair in a ponytail, put on a canary yellow gown and red three-inch slip-on heels.

She’d finished cooking by six. Heard her husband’s car in the garage.

“Hey, gorgeous. Smells good in here,” he said, bypassing her. No more kisses when he walked in. No hugs. No slaps on her juicy booty.

She set the table, prepared their plates, put extra servings of potatoes and dessert closest to his seat at the table. Her husband entered the dining room. He’d traded his suit and tie for the clothes he’d sleep in, a pair of gray baggy sweats and a wife beater.

His behind was barely in the seat before he beamed. “Got a new client today, gorgeous. You’ll never guess who?” His grin was wide.

All he ever talked about was work, work, work. But this smile was different.

“Yeah, who?”

“Nova,” he said like he was on a first-name basis with whoever she was.

“Nova, who?”

He nodded. “Scotia, baby. Nova Scotia.” His lips curved upward like a kid who’d just gotten his first cell phone.

“That’s nice.” His enthusiasm for another woman had ruined more than her appetite.

Was there anything about her that excited him that way? The remainder of dinner was quiet. Squirming in his seat, her husband hardly kept still. She excused herself from the table, brushed her teeth. She went to bed early. He crawled in beside her at midnight. No touches, no kisses, no hugs.

Her husband turned his back, hugged his pillow, and squirmed himself to sleep.



Sandwiched in a love triangle—her husband on one side, her ex-fiancé on the other—Foxy was able to sustain her marriage. Her husband should thank her ex-fiancé for sexing her senseless. Her ex-fiancé would soon be indebted to her husband. Neither man satisfied all her needs, but together, her two men were the perfect blend.

She didn’t marry for money. Had a separate bank account. She didn’t marry for love. Nowadays, love didn’t last long enough. Had her heart broken twice by the same man. Wasn’t going to be his fool again. She didn’t marry for mind-blowing sex. She knew how to pleasure herself before she surrendered her virginity at the tender age of sixteen. She didn’t marry to gain social recognition. Her self-esteem was so high no man could scorn her. She didn’t marry to validate her womanhood. She was a woman solely in charge of her life.

Tuesday morning she opened her eyes, glanced at her husband’s side of the bed. As usual, he wasn’t there. His getting out of bed before her shouldn’t bother her but it did. No more making love, morning quickies, or light kisses on her lips before he got out the bed. The burgundy sheet on his side was neatly tucked underneath the mattress.

She placed her feet on the ginger-colored carpet, sat on the side of the bed, unlocked her G1, then texted her lover, “Hi baby. Be there after 6.” She locked, then placed her G1 on the nightstand, and sat on the floor. Her morning ritual—crunches, hip thrusts, squats, and pushups—proceeded, stretching her legs, arms, and torso. Bypassing the sixty-five-inch flat screen television she used to watch pornography on with her husband, she entered her bathroom.

After she married him, moved into his house, she learned her husband’s habits. He didn’t like sharing his things or his space. His bathroom was on the opposite side of their master bedroom. His study was his. The kitchen, family and living room were hers. The dining room was shared one day a week. Neither of them would return to the table until Monday. To her, marriage meant the property under their roof—including her husband—was legally hers and she had the right to dispose of whatever she chose.

Her “I can have it all” attitude was ingrained by her father the four years she lived with him. Moving from her mother’s two-bedroom condo in Boise into the largest mansion in Crème City to live with her dad and attend high school with her two sisters changed her life forever.

Thanks to her dad, she had the opportunity to live with her sister from Baton Rouge and her sister from Boston. Three girls, the same age, with three different moms, from three different environments, experiencing puberty under one roof while being raised by their dad were the hardest yet most rewarding years of her life. Their father taught them to stick together and to never marry anyone who had little to give or nothing to lose.

Disgusted with her husband’s selfish, egotistical behavior, she stared in the mirror. She lathered cold cream on her forehead. Her piercing hazel eyes narrowed. Divorcing her husband wasn’t an option she wanted to exercise, but one she’d considered numerous times.

Give my fine-ass rich husband to some other woman? I don’t think so.

She bit her bottom lip, cursed, “Damn you! Why do you act like I’m your servant? Selfish-ass bastard! I hate you!” Love made her hate him. Hate made her love him. A live-in maid could easily fulfill her wifely duties. A better question was “Why had he asked to marry her?”

Her random outbursts were occurring more frequently. She prayed she wasn’t on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She wasn’t crazy. Just terribly frustrated. Headed for self-destruction if she didn’t make a change in her life.

She kept staring at her reflection. The high arches of her thin brows were waxed to perfection, not a single hair was out of place. Thick layers of chestnut hair caressed her honey golden shoulders with more affection than her husband’s hands. Her nose—not wide enough open as her mother would say—complimented her round, firm cheeks.

She smeared cream above and below her soft lips, wondering what her life would be like if she hadn’t married him, if she’d remained single. Would she be happy? Content? Lonely? Would she have risked having her heart broken a third time by her ex-fiancé?

She brushed her teeth, rinsed her face with cold water, then went to the study where she knew she’d find her husband sitting in his favorite, worn bourbon-tinted leather chair surrounded by his wall-to-wall law library.

“Morning, baby,” she said, softly kissing his lips. Calling him baby was a habit not worth breaking. There were no sentiments in her greeting.

Looking up at her, he smiled, then whispered, “Hey, gorgeous. What was all that noise? Were you yelling at someone on the phone?”

Did it matter? He hadn’t bothered to check on her. “Oh, nothing, just dropped something on my foot,” she lied. She removed his black-framed glasses, folded, then placed them on the end table beside his chair. Exhaling, she looked down at her husband, then asked, “Baby, do you still love me?”

He frowned. His eyes narrowed. He patted his thigh. “Sit. Talk to me. Why would you ask me something like that out of the blue?”

Exhaling, this time through her mouth, she wanted to remove his hand from her ass. His touch irritated her. He no longer excited her. “Guess I’m tired of . . .” Her eyes scrolled toward the crystal chandelier that hung high above their heads. She thought about the fatal ending in The War of the Roses and understood how couples could kill one another physically or emotionally. Agitated by his nonchalant attitude, she paused thinking, Tired of spending more time with my ex-man than with my husband.

He touched her chin, tilted her face, then stared into her eyes. “Tired of what, baby?”

She cringed, gripped his wrist, moved his hand to her lap atop the hem of her yellow gown. “Haaa… barely seeing you, that’s what. You work hard on everything except our marriage.”


Excerpted from Married on Mondays by HoneyB Copyright © 2010 by HoneyB. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 49 )
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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 49 Customer Reviews
  • Posted June 10, 2010

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:



    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted June 1, 2010

    Great book...until the end

    Married on Mondays was a great story that centered on the love, trials and tribulations of three sisters. I could not put the book down! The ending however, left me wondering if the author was tired and just didn't feel like writing any longer. For a story to be so strong in the beginning and middle, yet have a weak ending was a major disappointment. Nevertheless, for those who have a great imagination, and a book club, this would be a great story to elaborate on with the members.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 28, 2011

    Really Really provacative

    This book was so explicit it needs an 'R' rating. Overall good book

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 5, 2011

    Highly Recommended

    This is a well written noval, it keep you interested and waiting for what happens next.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted July 5, 2010

    more from this reviewer

    Good Book

    this book is sooo good...It took me only a few days to read...I didnt want to put it down

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted April 25, 2010

    more from this reviewer


    Three lovely sisters, Déjà, Foxy, and Victoria, are daddy's girls and live up to their names of Queen, Princess and Angel in the city of Crème. They are smart and business savvy with a side of freakiness. By day the ladies are owners of a very lucrative pastry shop; at night they are the undercover sole proprietors of Crème Fantasyland, where sexual fantasies become reality.

    The divas are married to prestigious lawyers. But trouble in the home front is lurking two steps behind them as well as the chance of their night business being uncovered. Will the ladies be able to balance taking care of home and making fantasies come true without being revealed?

    "Married on Mondays" was good! The erotica and the drama were on point and definitely will have your feathers ruffled. I felt like I was a bug on the wall in the midst of it all. Honey B brings it to you raw and uncut like no other.

    Reviewed by: Tange

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 13, 2012

    Good book

    This is a must read book I am looking for more books from this author honey b

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 29, 2012


    This book was great from beginning to end! Kept me on my toes the entire time. Can easily relate to some of the marriage issues and sibling issues as well. Loved it and on to her next book Single Husbands

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted December 29, 2011

    Good Read, Terrible Ending!!!

    Out of 5 stars I will give it a 3.5 stars. She really rushed through the end of the book. Left you HANGING!!!!

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted September 24, 2011

    Okay read...

    This book took off very slowly which is surprising for Honey B. It took me much longer to read this book than any of her others. It was an okay book...not too disappointing but not a real page turner either.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 12, 2011

    Not one of her best

    Married on Mondays was not what I expected at all, I thought It was going to be page turner. I suggested this book for my book club and some of the members felt it was kind of boring. At the begining of the book your getting to know each person and learn what married on mondays is all about. The book totally different from the other books she has written. I was just a little disapointed the way it ended.

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  • Posted April 24, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    This is an engaging erotica

    In Crème City, The Montgomery sisters (Foxy, Victoria and Deja) believe strongly in the mantra of the Three Musketeers. They run a bakery together, assist their lawyer-husbands at the legal firm, and operate swinging Crème Fantasyland at night.

    Foxy feels trapped between loving two men, her spouse and her former fiancé. Victoria allows her libido to run her life as any male or female who brings her to climax is her love of the moment. Finally, kick butt Deja is a dominatrix in every controlling sense of the word as she must be the Dom in charge at work, at fun, and at relationships. With marital issues and the nervy police chief Rain demanding Foxy sleep with him or face jail time, the siblings recall what their single daddy Mason told them: fight as a team watching each other's back.

    This is an engaging erotica starring three females who have their act together as they face life's curveballs by swinging for the fences. Rotating perspectives mostly between the sisters, but also somewhat Foxy's husband Winton (the other two mates never step to the plate), readers will enjoy HoneyB's urging female power encouraging women as the stronger sex to be.

    Harriet Klausner

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 25, 2010

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    Posted September 23, 2010

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    Posted May 29, 2010

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    Posted March 12, 2011

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 16, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted July 28, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted March 28, 2011

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    Posted April 5, 2011

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