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This unfortunate situation started because of a blog article published by Jenny Trout on 4 March 2015.
You can find out more from Jenny Trout's own blog.
The good news is that Jenny Trout has published her novella from that box set, "Bad Boy Good Man", which is now available from Amazon and Smashwords.
Here is a sneaky peek at her novella...
Bad Boy, Good Man by Abigail Barnette (Jenny Trout)
"Newly independent real-life adult Ellie McCormack loves everything about her first apartment…except her neighbor. His bi-weekly sex fests keep her up at night in more ways than one as she wonders about the man who’s making all the noise—and what he’s doing to make his women so damn loud.But even her wildest fantasies couldn’t conjure up a man like Antony DeLuca. When she works up the nerve to confront him, she’s expecting a player, but there’s more to Antony than his carefree sexual escapades. One hot night with him helps Ellie see through the man who drives women wild, to the good guy beneath it all. A guy that she just might be able to fall for…"
Excerpt
When the alarm went off an hour early, my sense of righteous outrage ejected me from bed like my butt was spring-loaded. I made coffee and sat down to write a note that would give my inconsiderate neighbor a piece of my mind. The first draft definitely came off too, “Hi, I’m the librarian from The Music Man, and I’m here to shake my finger at you.” The second one just screamed, “I’m too meek and cowardly to confront you in person.” I needed something that would get my message across without making me sound sexually repressed or like an entitled former yuppie reporting their neighbor’s unmowed lawn to the condo association.And, I definitely couldn’t write what I was really feeling: Please keep it down. I’m desperately lonely and can’t stand to hear other people being intimate. Besides, even if I were in a healthy, happy relationship, I wouldn’t want to hear strangers banging.
The clock was ticking, so I just scrawled, I can hear you having sex, you jerk! across the paper, folded it up, and stuck it in my purse. Then, I got ready for work. I showered, struggled into some Spanks to smooth out my tummy as much as possible, and threw on a cute, high-waisted gray plaid skirt and a gray button-down blouse with short, sheer sleeves. I did the bare minimum when it came to my makeup, because I’d wasted so much time messing around with the stupid note, and pulled on my black leather mid-calf boots. I bundled up in my camel-colored peacoat, white scarf, and slouch hat, and headed out the door.
Instead of taking a right out my door, I made a sharp left and nearly collided with Red Head Pixie Cut.
“Oops, sorry,” I said, my face flushing hot. It was not fun running into the person whose sex you masturbated to the night before.
“Sorry, I should watch where I’m going,” she said, still struggling to zip her puffy black coat. I waited for her to get to the top of the stairs before I headed on to the door she’d just come from. I fished the folded paper from my purse and leaned down to put the note on the floor in front of the door.
Which opened the moment the paper left my hand.
“Stella! You forgot—”
I wanted to melt into the floor. Two very naked, very wet, very big feet stood in the doorway, attached to chiseled calves covered in dark hair shining with water drops. As I straightened, a thick, hard thigh peeked from between the ends of what seemed to be a ridiculously small towel, held closed at a narrow waist by one big, sun-tanned fist.
My eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment as he said, “Uh, can I help you?”
I straightened and forced myself to look him in the face. The smoldering, Disney-prince-esque face that was all cheekbones and straight nose and freshly shaved chin that still showed a dark shadow where the hair had been. One thick black brow was drawn up, and his wide, full lips were slightly parted in a crooked smile.
“No, I was just—” I started to lean down for the paper, thinking I’d say, “I just noticed this trash in the hallway,” or something else that would be ridiculously unconvincing, but he scooped it up with the hand that wasn’t preventing the towel from falling. I should have just run, but the dark hair that dusted the broad, tawny beige expanse of his chest drew my attention like a super sex-charged tractor beam. My fingers curled into fists in my knit gloves.
To my horror, he shook the paper out and held it up between us to read aloud, “‘I can hear you having sex, you jerk.’ Exclamation point.” His brows drew up, and he blinked. “Wow.”
About the Author
The alter-ego of USA Today Bestselling Author Jennifer Armintrout, Abigail Barnette was born during a conversation with author Bronwyn Green, who encouraged Jennifer to develop an elaborate fantasy persona-- complete with nom de plume-- under which to pen erotic romance. Abigail enjoys long naps in fairy-filled glades, running through corridors in tragically romantic haunted castles, and drinking goblet after goblet of spiced wine.website: http://jennytrout.com/?page_id=7030
Jenny Trout is an author, blogger, and funny person. Writing as Jennifer Armintrout she made the USA Today bestseller list with Blood Ties Book One: The Turning. Her novel American Vampire was named one of the top ten horror novels of 2011 by Booklist Magazine Online. Jenny writes award-winning erotic romance, including the internationally bestselling The Boss series (written as Abigail Barnette), as well as young adult and new adult novels.
As a blogger, Jenny’s work has appeared on The Huffington Post, and has been featured on television and radio, including HuffPost Live, Good Morning America, The Steve Harvey Show, and National Public Radio’s Here & Now.
She is a proud Michigander, mother of two, and wife to the only person alive capable of spending extended periods of time with her without wanting to kill her.
Website: http://jennytrout.com/
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