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They have killed in the past, and are willing to kill again to keep their home a secret.

An extraordinary apocalyptic adventure unlike any you've read before. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

" tilted her head back and wolfed it down in one long gulp. Darlene was in a class by herself, and that was a problem. " she leaned into me until our noses touched while her hand moved to my knee and slowly slid along the inside of my leg. It was as cliché as shit, but I couldn't help myself. She had just made me an offer I couldn't refuse. We became romantically involved as much out of laziness as out of lust.

She sparkled like a diamond in a coal bin and scared the shit out of the men she approached. As Darlene studied me, her dark look of frustration gradually brightened, and her eyes sparkled as her grim expression transformed into the predatory smile of a fox. I answered by placing my hand on her knee and mirrored her journey of exploration. Neither of us cared to invest the necessary time to search for the perfect partner, so we settled for close enough for right now.

A homeless Vietnam Veteran becomes the accidental prisoner of an all-woman survivalist community hidden deep in the Rocky Mountains.

The Society of Sisters at Liberty Mountain has chosen to live in a world without men.

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Anyway, they are heavy duty into the survivalist movement.

Her second expedition of seduction ended in bewildered frustration. I usually have to beat men off with a stick," shaking her head in disgust, she demolished another White Russian. Darlene's rent check went south, along with about 25 or 30 personal checks and ATM transactions; each bad check racked up a bank charge, -30 in returned check merchant fees, and her account soon was bleeding red ink by several thousand dollars.

"Maybe you should offer to beat them off with a stick, you know, fifty shades of kinky? The certified letter ordering our eviction was the last straw.

We sat across from each other at the kitchen table as, like an unwanted house guest, a shroud of gloom settled over the room. "Damn, can't believe I forgot 'em," she slapped the palm of her hand on the table and let out a laugh. Darlene's exotic view of life trended toward the spiritual rather than the religious. My friends from college are living in an off the grid cabin in the Rockies.

I braced myself for her answer, "What kind of Hippy Village are we talking about? They owe me some money, maybe we can stay with them." "What's their address?

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