I figured out how to share this! If you missed my newsletter-Love Notes from L.B. Dunbar
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Here is the first (L)ittle (B)it, shared back in January 2018. Unpublished book but (c) L.B. Dunbar (and unedited). Hope you enjoy this little hint of Allora and Canyon (friends of Arturo King and the Nights!)

Prologue
“Oh Stephen.”
Oh Stephen.
“Ah. Stephen. Oh God.” Faltering with on a deep exhale.
Oh My God, Stephen.
“Oh Stephen. Just. Like. That.”
I sighed.
“One more.” The grunt in his voice familiar.
Vomit rose in my throat as I swallowed hard and stared at him. I didn’t dare close my eyes. Pinched in concentration, his neck flexed as he thrust forward. Hands caressed down his back which was lean and dimpled from excessive working out. His skin glistened with sweat, the pumping motion of his hips under the sheet apparent.
Blonde hair tumbled to the side of his arm which braced over her. Her voice squeaked as she reached the climatic peak of his rhythm movements inside her. Her head rolled to the side and he nibbled on her neck. Blue eyes opened and caught me.
“Stephen?” A shrill voice chirped as hands came to his chest to stop him. His thrusting altered and he looked over his shoulder.
Stephen, I thought as blue eyes met mine from across the room. I hadn’t made it any farther than the doorway to our bedroom. It was the only room in the house that had any semblance of being finished. It contained the king size mattress and the baby’s bassinet on my side of the bed. The bed I shared with my husband. The bed now occupied by him, and another woman.
“Allora,” he mumbled as he scrambled off the woman under him and pulled the sheet up to cover his waist. His lean chest was rippled like his back. Conscientious of his body, he sculpted it. He worshiped it. At one point, he worshiped mine.
We had the perfect marriage, or so it seemed from the outside. It was a fairy tale. Budding millionaire marries woman from poorer side of town. Tavern rat turned musician earns her right amongst the rich and famous. One day I’m playing for them at a party; the next I’m being swept off my feet to an array of dinners, engagements and social affairs amongst them.
Animal attraction from the start, sex was the driving force. Anyone who saw us said Stephen loved me more than anything. It was in his eyes, my friends would tell me. It was a farce, I could now explain. That look was purely sexual desire. His pupils dilated; the blue as bright as could be around the black center as he stared at me across our bedroom. His eyes told me everything.
Within a year of marriage, we were starting a family. Without any discussion, Stephen just proved to me he wasn’t ready to be a father. He couldn’t handle the commitment. He had dropped hints that he didn’t want to be a parent. He made comments, which I assumed were in jest, about my growing size. For a person vain with body image, a blossoming wife knocked against his pride. I was nine months pregnant. The baby was due in ten days.
 
Three months later…
Allora

“I’m exhausted, Stephen, that’s what’s wrong with me.” I sighed into the phone as I jiggled the baby on my shoulder and balanced the phone between my chin and ear.
“I’ve got to put you on speaker phone.” I set the phone down, adjusted the baby, and tried to continue a conversation over the squawking of Zuzu.
“Can’t you shut her up or something?”
“Nice, Stephen. Very fatherly of you.” I stopped. What was I saying? He wasn’t fatherly at all. Stephen Shaw was the least fatherly person there was. Our legal separation had been quick and without perfunctory issues. He temporarily gave me the brownstone, which was a three story walk-up in New York City. Issue: completely gutted inside, it needed extensive work to be completed. Other than solid walls, it had little else.
He also declined his fatherly responsibilities. He wanted no visitation. After an excessive bit of arguing that included him saying he wasn’t going to be the babysitter, he decided that he didn’t want his paternal right to his child. Initially, visitation was scheduled for every other weekend and one night a week. Impossible with a nursing mother, he denied seeing the baby. The one time he came to visit me, after I had Zuzu, he didn’t want to hold her. He stared at her like she was a foreign object. Her cries put him on edge and his presence clearly upset her.
As far as babies went, she seemed rather fussy in general, and I was exhausted from doing it alone.
“Look, is there a point to this call?” I tried not to shout, but Zuzu seemed rather distressed. I bounced so hard from side to side, my voice vibrated in the phone. I felt like I was doing exercises unfamiliar to my body as I hadn’t done them in months. I had no time for the personal attention. I hadn’t taken a shower yet today and it was almost five o’clock in the afternoon. I still wore my glasses in hopes that Zuzu would nap and I could, too. Baby spit up was on the shoulder of the oversized t-shirt I wore instead of returning to maternity clothes while my body retracted. Basically, I was a mess at the moment, and I didn’t have time to deal with Stephen.
“I’ve hired some help.”
My heart leapt at the thought of a live-in nanny, but immediately dropped at that idea. I wasn’t upset to be a mother. For all intents and purposes, I loved being a mother. I just wasn’t keen on doing it alone.
“I’ve hired someone to fix up the house. Then we can get it on the market.”
I sighed. The house. I’d been allowed to stay as I had nowhere else to go. I couldn’t move in with my sister Lace who let Enid live with her at the moment. As much as I loved my cousin, Trinity, she was out of the question. The latest addition to our group, Guinevere, wasn’t a possibility, either. The fact was I loved my house. I loved the possibility of it. Originally, the probability of building a life with Stephen and raising our family here excited me. Convenient to his work and mine, it was a gorgeous little haven in New York where others like us were just starting out. Stephen let me stay, rent free; however, only until we could sell the place. Then we would split the sale in half as our joint legal property, and Stephen Shaw would be free of me one hundred percent. I looked rather forward to the removal of him from my life.
“The person is coming at five to give you an appraisal of all that needs to be done.”
I glanced at the time on my phone. It was 4:45 pm. I looked down at myself. I fucking hated Stephen sometimes.
“Fine,” I huffed. “I need to go.”
I had no sooner turned off the phone when there was a knock at the door.
 
Canyon

I wasn’t sure I had the correct address. I double checked the numbers twice, but it was right. I was nervous. I’d never had to do this before. It was my first gig and I didn’t want to screw this up. I needed this job. I needed to prove myself.
From the outside, the place didn’t look bad. The brick stood in good condition, and the windows appeared newer. The walk-up steps were decent. The front door needed to be replaced. I didn’t know how this job was going to go down. The man who hired me wanted someone cheap and fast with quality skills. The program confirmed my references and my ability. “The Program,” quote unquote. I had six months, max, to finish the overhaul of the property. I would be allowed a small team if needed, but I was to assess the place on my own.
I knocked again as the doorbell clearly did not work. After a few moments, a woman answered the door with a crying baby in her arms. Dark hair piled on her head. Glasses bridged her nose and behind them gleamed the darkest brown eyes. She smiled at me, politely. My breath caught, but then she frowned as she turned away to soothe the baby.
“Zuzu, please, honey.” She jiggled the displeased baby. “I’m sorry,” she returned to me. “Are you the man that Stephen hired?”
“Stephen?” I blinked at her then looked down at the assignment on the iPad. “Oh yes, Stephen Shaw, although it says to meet a Mrs. Allora Shaw.”
She stared at me for a long moment and I worried she hadn’t heard me.
“Mrs. Shaw?” My eyebrow rose in question.
“Uhm … yes … I guess … I mean. Well, I’m Allora. Just Allora. Come on in.” She fluttered a free hand and stepped back to allow me entrance. Her back braced on the door to open it farther as my large frame entered the hall. I stood six-six. Not a small lady, herself, I still towered over her. She had to be almost a foot shorter than me. Her eyes scanned up my body and then she blushed deeply.
“I’m so sorry, but how tall are you?” Her voice hitched an octave. When I told her my height, she laughed.
“Is your name Mountain, by any chance?” She giggled again, like a teenager.
“Nope, Canyon.”
She blinked once then spoke again. “Are you serious?”
“Yep.”
“That’s a unique name.”
“Yep.” End of discussion. I’d heard it all before. A unique name, for a unique person, my mother said. I never liked that explanation but it was better than the real reason I had the name.
“Well, Mr. Canyon, right this way.”
She led the way through a nearly empty house. First floor included living room, separate dining space and makeshift kitchen. Entrance to back deck overlooked a mess of a backyard. The baby made an irritating bit of noise as Allora followed me through my inspection.
“How old is the baby?” I stunk at small talk, but I asked anyway.
“Three months.” She shifted the bundle to the other side.
Staircase led down to a laundry facility which she wanted moved to the second floor, she pointed out. Long term goal originally envisioned a finished space for a workout room and playroom, she explained, but the current work order did not include those plans.
She led the way to the second floor which included three bedrooms, two baths. One room sported a king size mattress. Another room held a four poster double bed and a baby bassinet. The baby continued to squeak.
“Do you need to feed her or something?”
“I just did,” she bit, then sighed. “I just did.” Her tone softened. “I think it’s gas. She’s very fussy anyway at this time of day.”
Ignoring the cries, we continued to the top floor where smaller bedrooms lined the narrow hall. I assumed this had once been a nursery and/or maids’ quarters. Victorian in layout; sparse in style, the space would make a great music room. I instantly shut off the thought.
“You need quite a bit of work done.” I stated the obvious as I took notes while I stood at the top of the staircase. Allora sighed again and jiggled the baby from side to side. The noise got to be a bit much for me and my fingers twitched. I placed the iPad between my thighs and held out my large hands.
“Would you mind if I held her?” I wiggled my fingers, but I wasn’t taking no for an answer. That baby needed to stop.
“Her name is Zuzu,” Allora said as she placed the baby in my open arm. I shifted her to cradle over my arm. Her head balanced in the crook of my elbow, her belly braced against my long forearm. My hand held her between her tiny legs. The instantaneous silence was almost louder than her cries.
“How did you do that?” Dark eyes stared at me in wonder.
“It’s the pressure against the belly. If it’s gas, it stops it.” Baby drool rolled over my elbow, slowly dampening my arm.
“I’m so sorry.” Allora pulled up the corner of her oversized t-shirt. I looked away immediately. The length of the shirt made it appear as if it was a short dress, which meant I might get an expected glimpse at her goods. I didn’t want to risk the sight. Soft cotton wiped my arm then disappeared.
“Sorry,” she said under her breath as she smoothed down the shirt. She touched her hair and then stopped. She blushed again and pushed the glasses up her nose. Awkwardness fell between us standing amongst the empty bedrooms.
“I guess we should go back downstairs.” She pointed over her shoulder. Turning she led the way then stopped and glanced back at me.
“Maybe, I should…” She set out her hands for the baby, but I shook my head.
“I got her for a minute,” I assured her. I wasn’t ready to let the little babe go.
 
Allora

Holy crap, he was a big man. I’d never seen anyone so tall, or so built before. Stephen and I stood nearly the same height, as he was only an inch or two taller than me. He liked it that way. It was important for photos, he said, that we didn’t appear too diverse. His man cleared me but almost a foot and spread double my size. He was a bulky, sexy beast.
Stephen also liked that our hair color blended. This Canyon character had hair as long as mine, in streaks of varying brown, hanging loose and wild. He kept moving it over his head to balance on one side as he took notes on the iPad. Every time he typed I could only imagine dollar signs, but Stephen intended to take care of it all. He had a budget, and planned to write the whole house off as investment. A business venture between us, instead of a marriage proposal, it stated in the divorce decree. The house had once been an engagement present.
I tried not to think of the details of Stephen’s past romantic gestures. It only made the whole process harder. I couldn’t go into the room where Stephen humped his new girlfriend. Without the physical strength to remove the king size mattress alone, it remained in the room. Trinity offered to come over and burn it, but I didn’t see the benefit of burning down the whole place. I suggested Stephen take it with him when he moved out. I actually insisted he remove it, but his new girlfriend didn’t want it. His marriage bed to another woman, she called it. Yeah, his wife, you stupid bitch.
I took a deep breath. Thinking of Stephen got me nowhere. I needed to calm down.
“Uhm … hello…” A rich, deep voice broke into my self-meditation.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“So I wondered if you were given an explanation of the expenses and how this program works?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I blinked at Canyon.
“The program? That your husband hired me from?” He raised an eyebrow and dipped his head.
“Uhm … he’s not my husband.”
“You’re not married?” His accusatory tone caught me off guard, as if an implication of something wrong with me. Then he coughed. “I mean, you’re not married. Well, your … uhm …”
“Ex-husband,” I choked.
“Ex-husband,” he said slowly. “He hired me from a program that includes room and board in the assignment.”
I continued to stare at him, waiting with my next breath for further explanation. Canyon said nothing.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“I don’t think I should take this job,” he suddenly replied, handing me a presently sleeping Zuzu.
“I’m sorry. Why not?” I looked at him, my eyes widened in concern. Was it too much? It was a large place. Maybe it was the money? Did it scare him that I was a single woman and he didn’t think I could financially support the job?
“Mr. Shaw is financing this whole project, if you’re worried about the money. You’ll get paid. If there’s anything Stephen is good at it, it’s paying out,” I snorted.
Canyon stared at me. His eyes were dark brown, almost black. It made me shiver a bit to watch him look at me, and then I remembered how I looked. I repulsed myself at the moment. Greasy hair piled on my head, glasses sipped down my nose, and I smelled faintly of baby.
“It isn’t that,” he said.
“I see,” I paused, narrowing my eyes at him and shaking my head at him as if I understood him. “Actually, I don’t. What’s wrong with the house?”
“It isn’t the house,” he insisted, running his fingers through his long hair, forcing it to one side again. “It’s the room and board.”
“Room and board?” I puzzled.
“Yes, the living arrangement established through the program.”
“Living arrangement,” I repeated as if I understood, but I had no clue what he was talking about.
“Yes, the one where I live here while I work.”