Cherry Blossoms

  Praise for this Series

  It is not hyperbolic to say that this story is a masterpiece of erotic fiction … If you're into erotic fiction that stays in your mind and heart long after you read it, KT Morrison is the bard.

  —PS

  Amazon Review

  At moments I completely forgot this book fell into the erotica genre. And I was okay with that! There's action, believe me, [KT] delivers again! But this story has always been bigger than the sex. It matters to you as much as learning finally who Odie's real father was. You wanted to know, because KT's characters burrowed their way into your soul in a spectacular way.

  If you think a good erotic tale is one that makes you wonder why you can't stop reading it given the mixed bag of emotions you feel afterwards, then this your story. If you want a quick read, you should really consider what may happen to your time if you start getting into this one.

  —Rudimental

  Amazon Review

  I seldom use the word Brilliant when talking about anything. I will use it today when speaking of KT Morrison's writing, in Losing Your Wife 2.

  These books go well beyond well written erotica. These are well crafted novels. So seldom in any form of fiction do you find so many well-defined and precisely etched characters. All the characters still haunt me.

  —Mastersall

  Amazon Review

  If you like books that are crazily erotic, but make you feel like every emotion is cauterized deep into your soul, you will rave about this author and all of her books in this genre.

  I've used analogies to describe the range of emotion from bungee jumping, white water kayaking or trainwrecks. KT Morrison is truly a craftsman with her characters and their interactions.

  KT Morrison connects her characters with you on an emotional level, so expect to be totally immersed throughout, you won't want to put it down once you start reading.

  —Guhrka

  Amazon Review

  This story is no doubt brilliantly written. It is the most extreme of rollercoasters with emotions and I would have been yelling out if I had been on a plane while reading. The emotional play that the author brings out is mind numbing gut wrenching sickening. It is amazing work.

  —Bradley

  Amazon Review

  This novel was masterfully written. KT takes these characters through an intense emotional rollercoaster, and the reader feels every bit of it …

  KT's sense of her characters is so finely tuned it's hard not to relate to someone in this series, be it meek Geoff, passionate Nia, powerful Rocco, or memorable Dino. Even Maria had me convinced.

  Few books truly hook me like this series. KT has me so emotionally invested here that I'm anticipating the next book in a way I haven't felt since the final Wheel of Time book. It may not be as epic but KT's prose keeps me wanting more.

  —Edi

  Amazon Review

  This is not for the faint of heart, but I suspect anyone who has read a lot of KT's stuff knows that going in …

  So many cuckolding/hot wife stories focus on the sex, and that's great. But very few really take the time to delve into the emotions...the consequences. KT does fully here and I commend her for it.

  If you're looking for a few cheap thrills in a story, it won't be for you. But if you really want to feel emotions, both good and bad (really really bad unfortunately), this is the story for you.

  —JL23

  Amazon Review

  KT has really nailed it this time, having read all of the series, I can [see] how she has evolved all the characters making this a book that is not only extremely well written with some fabulous prose but with a rich and thought provoking sub text as to what is love, and the impact it can have in its various guises.

  —Paul

  Amazon UK Review

  I have just finished [reading] the whole series and can't believe how well written and researched this book was. Details were so accurate it is hard to believe that this was a story and not a biography. It is definitely not for the faint of heart. At times I felt for Geoff and other times for Nia, but the one character that always had my heart was Odie. This author is one of the best in this genre as far as I am concerned. I live in the same area that the story took place and the attention to detail was amazing.

  —Jake p

  Amazon Canada Review

  Cherry Blossoms

  A Losing His Wife Novel

  KT Morrison

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  Models on cover are meant for illustrative purposes only.

  CHERRY BLOSSOMS

  A Losing His Wife Novel

  First Edition. August 6, 2017.

  Copyright © 2017 KT Morrison

  Written by KT Morrison

  Cover by KT Morrison

  Contents

  Foreword

  I. Cherry Blossoms

  1. Little Choo

  2. Cherry Blossoms

  3. Striptease

  4. Job Interview

  II. Bachelorette

  5. Fat Girl Night

  6. Lake View Tavern

  7. Probation

  8. Bachelorette

  III. Montréal

  9. Of Roots And Pipes

  10. Lake Mishigekegwag

  11. Black Glasses, Black Lingerie

  12. Hotel Sanguinet

  13. The Expos

  14. Aftermath

  15. Last Night

  16. French Toast

  IV. Kaleidoscope

  17. Loving His Wife

  18. Station 455

  19. Remotely

  20. Thirty-Four

  V. Sanctity

  21. 2 Series

  22. S’mores

  23. Reggie

  24. No Show

  25. Open Window

  26. Goddess Stone

  VI. Temporal

  27. Dollhouse

  28. Sleepy

  29. Rainstorm

  30. Healing

  31. Union

  32. Transitory

  VII. Eternal

  33. Barrel Works

  34. The Bay

  VIII. Universe

  8 Months Later

  35. Cherry Blossoms II

  36. Winnie

  37. Square

  38. Mournfully Sung

  39. Refuge

  Afterword

  Other Books by KT Morrison

  Foreword

  This book was six months of my life.

  I write every day, and therefore the Kane family became real people I spent time with every day. I loved them, I chastised them, often I shook my head at them. Except Odie. Somewhere along the way Odie became some sort of spiritual trickster who saw through the whole story. Like she was my eyes.

  Now, months later, I still miss them.

  The story was written in series and was borne out by the passion of the readers who joined in every few weeks or so on my blog as episodes were released. It was a great time and I will remember it fondly forever.

  The direction the story traveled was always known to me but the route taken changed along the way, leading us all to some surprising and dirty places. Theme solidified around the halfway point—it was always there and maybe only the characters saw it. Dim-witted KT needed some hand-holding. Once it was revealed to me I knew how it would all come together. The ending was…but I can’t talk about that, because you may not have read the book yet…

  Sounds like a lot of back-patting and high-minded self-touching I know, but believe me it’s just because I love this story so much. Cherry Blossoms marks a special time in my life where I feel like I had control of everything, and it was all coming together. The people in the book became real and took over a
nd sometimes I would sit at my desk and tune in just to see what they would do that day.

  I enjoyed writing this immensely and I sure hope it comes across to the reader and that they can share some of the joy I had in creating this world and all its dirty problems.

  —KT

  Part I

  Cherry Blossoms

  1

  Little Choo

  Friday, May 12th

  GEOFF

  Geoff J. Kane was on a deadline but tonight he was silkscreening. Three weeks from now he had to turn in fourteen large scale drawings of happy trains for his editor. The Big Book of Choo. A three-to-six year-old readers’ favourite, and award winner, the bestselling Choo original had spawned this sequel. His first book, The Little Book of Choo, was in its eighth printing. They’d had to shake their wallets out to get him to draw that many trains again. On top of the trains, he had three books about farm animals, a kind of a sad book about divorce, and three covers for Scholastic books. His inimitable style had become a hot children’s commodity since Little-Choo came out three years ago.

  The fourteen drawings could wait. He knew his pace. He wasn’t worried. Eight weeks from now there was an expo in Toronto where he had a table and he wanted an inventory of prints to sell.

  So, his garage space studio, out back of the Roncesvalles fully detached two-story, had been transformed. All his tables had wheels on them that could roll them around wherever he wanted on the polished and painted concrete floor. The computer tables and ink station had all been pushed to the side, and in the centre he had one cleared table with all his silkscreening gear.

  He was printing one single lone image: a cheeky monkey, stylized and happy, almost sugary. Conjuring up Hong Kong Phooey and Paul Pope and Miyazaki all at once. Whatever the reason, this bold simple image worked. Drawn with ink and dirty brushes, scanned, cleaned, Photoshopped, run through his Ryonet exposure unit, then screened by hand with purplish Speedball on a cherry-stained dove-tailed box that he’d built himself. There were fresh prints on countless 100lb peach-orange sheets, draped over every surface in the studio; over his iMacs, his paintbrushes, his mechanic’s chest filled with quills and inks and exotic pieces he’d ordered online and not yet used, even sheets draped over his prized Cinelli ten-speed propped against a white painted brick wall.

  The baby monitor was spared coverage. Its screen needed to be viewed. Little Odele was seven years old now but the garage was detached from the house and mommy was out with her friends. He never liked his eyes off her anyway. She was tucked into her bed, a silky tapestry hanging from the ceiling and draped around the bed, a big stylish old oak tree he’d painted in white against a pink wall wrapped its gnarly arms around her. She was fast asleep. Fuck, it was past 3 A.M. Where was Nia?

  She’d gone out with some of her old friends from Woodbridge. Bunch of Italian girls from her old neighbourhood getting together, coming into the city and going out to Square on Queen Street. A dance club, kind of a young crowd, rooftop patio. Not the kind of thing from her current life but very much like something young Nia would have done on a Friday night when he’d first met her. That was an intimidating Nia. Just thinking about those early days with her could cramp his stomach. She was a bit wild, a lot of fun. Nothing like his whitebread suburban ass was used to dealing with. She smoked, she cursed, she was s-e-x-u-a-l. He’d only ever slept with three girls and talking to Nia back then always made his palms sweat and he’d get this weird nervous tension thing where his ears would ring powerfully. She was a lot to handle. But she was the one. The one for him. Under all of it there was a kind and warm loving person and she responded to him. He was her friend first. Shit, for two years at York University he’d be her shoulder to cry on when some complete fucking asshole dumped her, not seeing how amazing she truly was. Then, gradually, she would look into his eyes a little longer. She was considering him in new ways. One night she kissed him. She kissed him. He’d always wanted to do it. In two years, seeing her almost every day, he just never got the nerve. One night she decides she likes him and bam, she locks lips. After that kiss there was no looking back. It was on. Once he had her he’d never let her go.

  There was a thunk in the back alley. The converted garage opened out behind the house to a wide well-lit and treed alley that separated it from the backs of the other houses on Garden Street. There she was, getting out of a green and orange taxi. Long legs, so long, high heels and the short fuchsia skirt of her dress peeking out below her jacket. Just like that sexy twenty year old he’d long for back at University. He smiled, watching her walk boldly up to the garage seeing his lights were still on. She was bold but obviously clumsy. His bad girl had a few too many glasses of wine. “Oh, Nia,” he laughed, watching her pretty face smiling to him, catching him spying on her from the small square window in the wall that was once a garage door. Their Volvo sat just outside the door in the short gravelly mouth that led off the alley. She ran her hand along it as she passed, trying to steady herself. He opened the door for her and let her in.

  “Hi, baby,” she said, very high and breathy. Happy to see him. He hugged her tight, said, “I guess you had fun tonight.”

  “Mm—I did,” she sang, hugged him back and rocked gently with him.

  She was tall. Taller than him in her heels. His Greek goddess. She had thick, heavy, lustrous black hair that hung in waves and natural rings. She smelled like Chanel and wine and cigarette smoke and her familiar woman smell. She’d been hot and sweaty from dancing. He ran his hands on her back sneaking them up under her jacket.

  “I missed you tonight,” he said.

  Her arms came up and draped over his shoulders, her clutch held in her hand, she regarded him coolly under half lidded black-makeup eyes. “I missed you, too.”

  “How are Angie and Donna?”

  “They were great, it was good to see them,” she said and she kissed his lips lightly, pulled back and smiled crooked. She was so beautiful it still intimidated him, even after fourteen years knowing her. She had strong features; a Roman nose, a sharp jaw, and dark, dark eyes. At night, like right now, they looked black. She had them rimmed with shadow and the way she stood, just a bit taller than him, kissing him and smiling down on him, he felt a bit like prey.

  “All the girls show up?”

  “A bunch from high school...from Woodbridge.”

  “Aw, did you catch up?”

  “Nah, just had fun. It was too loud. We danced...you know...”

  “Had some drinks?”

  “We did,” she nodded, her smile widening until he saw her white teeth past her deep red lipstick. She turned her back to him, threw her clutch onto a clear corner of a table and took her jacket off. Her dress hugged her slender frame. He watched the bare olive muscles of her back work as she took her jacket and folded it and plopped it on a stool. She was thirty-three but she looked twenty still. Smooth Mediterranean skin, glowing with health and vigour, long legs that showed muscle and grace, her painted toes pointed into a pair of black stilettos.

  “You’ve been busy,” she said, looking around at all the prints, face up and drying.

  “Yeah, I totally lost track of time, I—”

  “You weren’t staying up to discipline your naughty wife, she was—”

  “Do you need discipline?”

  “Maybe.”

  He said, “Were you flirting tonight? Like you’re flirting with me.”

  “Oh shit,” she said, and she clapped her hands and stomped a high heel foot. Her face lit up with happiness at her great news, “Guess who got a job?”

  “You did? Really?” It was time. They’d talked about it. Odele back in school now for a year, Nia was getting antsy around the house. She’d been his companion around here, his assistant, but she was eager to work away from the house. His books were selling but the first one, the bestseller, was freelance illustration. He didn’t get royalties. Money was coming in now pretty good on new jobs but a little more wouldn’t hurt. Toronto was not getting cheaper.
>
  “Yeah, yeah, I did, I think,” she said, and she tip-toed to him again and put her arms around him.

  “That’s so great, Nia, so amazing, baby. What is it?”

  “Like an assistant. A secretary, some bookkeeping. A... pool company, in Etobicoke.”

  “That’s awesome, Nia. How did you—”

  He saw her face seem a little troubled. Like good news and bad news. She was happy still but there was a little problem.

  Her voice went high, ending everything with a question, she said, “Dino...uh...Dragonieri? Uh...his brother, Rocco? He...uh...has a pool company...”