I Love it Rough Blogtour – CONTEST Michael Mandrake

Roughmm1Greetings readers. Please enjoy this promo and contest from my alter ego, Michael Mandrake.

Blurb: Kajika Fortier loves his job, the attention he gets from onlookers, and Frankie Choteau. However, his new partner’s jealousy, mood swings, and over protectiveness drives Kajika to the brink but at the same time, excites him to no end.

To complicate things further, a murderer is on the loose looking for blood. All three of the killer’s victims are strippers which not only makes Frankie nervous about Kajika’s safety but leaves him questioning his love for being a homicide detective. Coupled with the stresses of cold cases as well as some fellow officers shunning him for coming out, Frankie is having second thoughts about staying in New Orleans. Despite the encouragement from Vance, Kenina, and Orrin as well as new chief Quinn Murray, Frankie is wondering if his life’s passion really is to catch the killers.

Will the new couple survive these new issues that impede their nearly perfect union? Or will the relationship fail, thus leaving Kajika alone and a target for New Orleans latest serial killer? Detective Choteau and Kajika’s commitment to one another is being tested in more ways than one and they only have one another to lean on.

Excerpt

Kajika stepped out of the tub, grabbing the towel nearby to dry off. He’d been looking forward to spending the night and the early part of the day with his man, but duty called, causing Frankie to run out the door without saying anything more than ‘I’m gone’ and ‘I love you’.

Damn job.

Sometimes Kajika wished Frankie worked a nine to five instead of the dreaded detective position he held at the police station. They hadn’t had much time with the workload being so large due to shortage of staff, and it affected their relationship more than Kajika would’ve liked. At first he thought he could handle it; the excitement of his hot homicide detective out in the streets solving murders. Such a dangerous career but with it came nice money and accolades. Although Kajika was scared to death of blood and dead bodies, he loved hearing about some of Frankie’s cases, including the more intriguing ones that had yet to be solved. Tonight though, he would’ve traded all that in for his Frankie to be by his side.

In bed with me, where he should be.

Kajika finished wiping down and wrapped himself in his terry cloth robe to get ready for bed. He’d thought about staying up and watching some television, hoping that Frankie might return sooner than later, but he knew the truth. When called in, detectives don’t make it back home within a couple of hours. More like a few hours, or even half the day, would pass before he’d see his man again. As long as he came home safe, Kajika would deal with the amount of hours he spent away from their warm bed in Kenner, Louisiana.

On the way to the bedroom, Kajika wrapped his hair in the towel, drying his long strands. He glanced at the clock on the wall and grimaced when he noticed the big and small hand hovering over the two.

“Shit. Now I know I won’t see you until breakfast.” Kajika clicked his teeth and stomped on the trail of rose petals, angered by their night being interrupted. He pushed their bedroom door closed and leaned against the wood. “Damnit. We haven’t done a whole lot other than late night cuddling, quickies in the bathroom or on the kitchen floor. I need more than that, Frankie…I need−”

A long buzz sounded from the dresser, and Kajika moved quickly to see who was calling.

Frankie.

Frankie, or at least Kajika hoped it was, calling him with the news he’d be returning home sooner than expected. Although farfetched, Kajika could still wish his husband to be back early. He gulped hard and said a little prayer before clicking the connect button. “Hello?”

Silence then a sigh. “Babe, it’s me… I… I got some real bad news to tell you, sweetheart, but I’d rather you hear it from me as opposed to anyone else.”

Kajika released a deep breath and shrugged. “Are you okay, love? Something bothering−”

“Naw, I’m good, boo, but−” Frankie stopped a moment and blew hard through the phone.

Kajika plopped on the bed and crossed his legs, wondering what the heck his man was talking about. Bad news? What could it possibly be? Kajika nibbled on his bottom lip while he toyed with the frayed threads on his housecoat. “What is it, lover?”

“Babe, the murder I got called in for was…” Frankie ceased speaking again and sounded a little choked up about it.

Kajika held his breath and blinked twice in succession. “Who Frankie? Come on, just spit it out, right…who…”

“Lana Miles, babe. Lana’s been strangled to death.” Frankie spoke quickly to get the words out.

Kajika stared straight ahead, and his heart caught in his chest. Oh my God! Unable to cope with what he’d just heard, he dropped his phone and immediately the tears welled under his eyelids. Lana? Oh my God, who killed her? She was a good person…she…

“Kajika? Babe, you there? You okay, love? Talk to me, honey.”

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Overall Series Blurb

The N’awlins Exotica/Paranormal series

The city of New Orleans is rich in tradition, diverse, and known for the inspiration it provides. In the “Big Easy” there lies the hunger for the erotic as well as the unknown. The residents here feel that sexual energy and it reveals itself through their various creative activities.

Join the characters as they take a wild ride on the edge, enjoying their town for all it has to offer. There’s a certain magic in the air, an erotic magic that cannot be ignored.

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To find out more about book one, I Like Em Pretty, click the banner

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About the Author and the muse

Michael Mandrake pens complex characters already comfortable with their sexuality. Thorough these, he builds worlds not centered on erotica but rather the mainstream plots we might encounter in everyday life through personal experiences or the media. To find out more please visit http://tabooindeed.blogspot.com.

Author Sharita Lira: In one word, crazy. Just crazy enough to have 3 different muses running around in her head, driving her to sheer exhaustion with new plot bunnies and complex characters.

This happily married mother of two beautiful children loves music, computers, reading, and still enjoys reading and writing fanfiction. She’s a proud member of the Erotica Readers & Writers Association, as well as an advocate for rights of LGBT citizens.  She’s also a contributor to the heavy metal ezine Fourteeng.net.

For more information, please visit http://www.thelitriad.com as well as her Facebook fanpage, The Literary Triad.

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Michael Mandrake – http://tabooindeed.blogspot.com

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 Rawiya – http://rawiyaerotica.wordpress.com

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New Release – A Special After Christmas Gift M/M

ASpecialAfterChristmasGift_LRG  Greetings readers

My newest release, A Special After Christmas Gift is the follow-up to Comet from the Reindeer Games collection I did with Avril, Cassandre, Mindi, Drea, Lucy, and Robin. This one features my beloved klutz, Denny Brothers and his dog Preston who runs away without a trace. Denny’s really upset about his disappearance and in the meantime meets a hot package handler who brings him some after Christmas joy. 

Blurb: Denny Brothers is upset about being alone. After spending it with the man he’d been gushing over for years, he’s wishing for his sad existence to be change and little does he know witch Shelba Marrisco already has plans in the works. Enter Paul Alexander, a charming and sexy package handler with a special after Christmas gift they both can enjoy for the rest of their lives but in order to have a chance, Denny has to let go of his beloved chocolate lab, Preston, in exchange for everlasting love.

Link to SCP

A couple of days passed and Denny still hadn’t found Preston anywhere. Two people called to check if Denny’s prize for Preston’s return was valid.

Twenty-Five hundred. A reward which would wipe out most of his savings, but at this point he’d give just about anything to have Preston back by his side. Preston was his best friend in the world right now and he’d give even more if he had the money to do so.

For the duration of the weekend, Denny hadn’t done anything but search for his dog while posting up the pictures at various places in the neighborhood. He’d barely slept, ate, or done anything, worried that Preston could be hurt or worse, dead.

Still tired from lack of rest, Denny ambled into the local coffee shop to grab a cup of java before heading into work. This morning’s commute made him thankful he rode the bus and trains instead of driving. The city got hit with another seven inches of snow overnight, making the a.m. rush seem like the morning crawl. That made the buses late too, but at least he didn’t have to be the one struggling to avoid accidents or digging his car out.

Although he wanted to stay home, there was too much to be done at the office to call in. Besides that, losing Preston wasn’t a good enough excuse to take a personal day; just how would he explain that to his boss who depended on him to begin preparations for the next charity event in March? Denny didn’t want to screw up his new position with Cancer Charities.

As per usual the coffee shop was bustling with customers asking for their liquid breakfast drinks precisely the way they wanted them. Many looked to be in a rush while some decided to use the weather as a reason for being late.

With a vente coffee in hand and a blueberry muffin in the other, Denny took a seat by the window in the corner of the shop. Usually, he took it to go, but felt the need to sit there for a moment before he headed in today, just to get himself ready. He’d need his brain to be functioning properly to make all the phone calls to various contributors and companies to ask for their assistance for the next big charity gala. Too bad this couldn’t be done through email or anything since Denny wasn’t in the mood to talk with anyone.

Once he settled in, Denny sipped his coffee and picked up one of the local papers to take in the morning news. He read headlines about the blizzard as well as first projections of how the country’s retailers fared during Christmas.

“Hmph, looks like the economy is on the upswing.” Denny drank a little more and turned the page to find out more about the article.

“Excuse me, sir, is this seat taken?” A deep, smooth voice disturbed him from his reading and he moved the paper over slightly to take a look at the owner.

Jesus.

Denny’s breath caught in his throat when he noticed a very good looking, well dressed black man standing in front of him with a pearly white smile.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to bother you but, as you can see, the place is a little crowded and well…” He licked his lips and looked back at Denny. “I’d like to have a seat to enjoy my morning latte.”

Denny was amazed that no seat was available for this hunk to sit down in.

Must be his lucky day.

“Um, yeah sure, uh… please, have a seat.” He straightened up in his chair and put the paper down next to him to get a closer look at the hot man.

Good God.

Denny couldn’t help but stare at the six foot hunk with a clean shaven head. His beautiful chocolate brown pupils resembled Hershey’s kisses, unwrapped, slightly, slanted. Speaking of milk chocolate, his skin was the same hue without a blemish or trace of hair on his strikingly chiseled face. His lips were plump —perfectly kissable. Denny wished he could touch them right then just to see what they felt like on top of his.

Wow.

“Thanks so much. I didn’t mean to bother you but from my vantage point, this is the best seat in the house. Can I ask your name so I know who I’m sitting with?” He offered his large hand.

Denny flushed red and couldn’t help but crack a smile. Dang, the man was hotter than hot dressed in brown corduroy pants and an off white turtleneck sweater. Despite his shyness he certainly wouldn’t turn this handsome man away. “Um, Denny, Denny Brothers.” Denny returned the shake and didn’t let go right away. The gorgeous stranger’s palm was so soft and warm he wished he could feel it on his body right now.

“Nice name for such a handsome man. I’m Paul, Paul Alexander.” Paul let go, seemingly reluctant to stop touching Denny. When his gorgeous browns met Denny’s, he took a small sip from his cup and smiled. “Other than the weather, how’s your morning going so far?”

Denny toned down his smile and sighed, not wanting to talk about his depressive state. “Okay, I guess. I barely made it out of bed this morning actually.”

“Oh? Why is that, Denny? I mean, the holidays just ended so the craziness is over, right? To me the days after Christmas are the best times of the year.”

“I agree but…” Denny looked away a moment and bit his lip. Should he tell him about Preston running away when they just started talking? “Well Christmas was so nice, you know? I spent it with a friend, his wife, and their dogs. Me and Preston…” Just the mention of his dog’s name made Denny’s heart sink.

“Preston? Is that your man, or…” Paul cocked an eyebrow before putting the mug back to his lips.

“No, no, it’s my dog. He got away over the weekend. I’m really attached to my lab. I miss him a lot.”

Paul nodded and reached across the table, patting his hand. “It’s okay, Denny. A lot of people are. I don’t have any pets since I work some insane hours at my job.”

The feel of Paul’s hand on his sent shivers up his spine, but he didn’t pull away. Normally he would take issue with someone being so touchy feely but not today, not when he’d been so down in the dumps all weekend. “Oh really? What do you do? I mean…” Denny crinkled his lips and stopped talking. “I’m sorry. I just want to talk about something else that doesn’t involve pets.”

“It’s fine, I understand. I work for a major packaging company as a handler. I’m on the graveyard shift so I don’t see my bed until after eight a.m. It really sucks too since I like to go out and hang with my buddies or nice looking men like yourself.” Paul hadn’t moved his hand.

Denny didn’t want him to either. His grin returned at that statement. “Thanks Paul. I really appreciate you being so understanding, or you seem like you are anyway. I’m sure you’re thinking how much of a loser I am being so sore over a mutt,” he laughed.

“No, no, not at all, Denny.” Paul gently rubbed his long fingers over the back of Denny’s hand. “Like I said, you’re a dog lover and that’s good. Nothing wrong with loving your pet. I’m just glad Preston was only that and not anything more so I can ask you out. That is, if you don’t mind accepting a date from a total stranger.” Paul flashed his perfect smile again.

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New Release: Faustina and the Barbarians by John McKeown

Faustina and the BarbariansBlurb

Rome wasn’t built in a day but Faustina Maxima, antithesis of the passive Roman matron, can screw herself out of a threatening situation quicker than you can say, “Veni, vidi, vici!” This statuesque beauty, descendant of a famous emperor is a one-woman sexual killing machine that eats savage Goths and Saxons for breakfast—and is also partial to a Pict or two—while lunch, dinner and supper is any Roman who takes her fancy. Like any great general she’s blessed with imagination, and open to every possibility for maximising pleasure. For, as she writes to her daughter-in-law Flavia, the lucky recipient of her mother-in-law’s unblushing exploits among the barbarians, “what is life without ever fresh adventures?”

Warning: This title contains graphic language and is suitable for adults only.

‘Faustina and the Barbarians’ is a 21.000 words historical erotica novella

Published by ahotterstate.com

 

Excerpt

To: Flavia Maxima, Rome

From: Faustina Maxima, Amorgos, August 410

My darling daughter-in-law, what thrilling news! The Barbarians at the gates of Rome, at last. You and your friends are in for the time of your lives. I’m green with envy, exiled as ever on this barren Grecian rock with nothing but goats and wizened goat herders for company; not to mention that boring, obnoxious bag-of-bones, your father-in-law Flaccus. As soon as you hear Alaric’s Gothic cavalry pounding down the street, get outside and scream for attention.

I know you won’t do that, of course, but I hope this letter of mine will persuade you to stop being such a shrinking violet and have some fun with the gorgeous Goths before they’re completely Romanised. You really must make the most of them, my dear. All disrespect to my darling son, but you must be bored stiff in the bedroom. He’s just like his wimpish father; prefers a blowjob from a eunuch to fulfilling his conjugal duties.

Darling, in all earnestness, the Goths are just the influx of virility the women of Rome are crying out for. I speak, as always, from experience.

Twenty years ago, when the Goths first began seriously troubling our northern borders, Flaccus, appointed Legate by the Emperor Valentinian, was sent to keep an eye on them. I, of course, having the ear—and more vital organs—of His Imperial Majesty, was allowed to accompany him. I was a very excited twenty-year-old, who couldn’t wait to feast her eyes upon those blond giants from the far north.

When we arrived it was high summer, and the forests of Germania were steaming, and not just with fires from Barbarian encampments. Disguised as an officer, I rode with my valiant husband into the centre of the Chief’s camp to parlay. Darling, I simply couldn’t see what threat the Goths posed, for all their energy seemed to be spent in fucking their buxom-arsed women, and often each other, senseless. As we rode in, my saddle was damp with the sights we saw. They were fucking against trees, on the ground, and, one couple I remember, were shafting each other precariously balanced in the boughs of an oak. And what beauties they were! As Flaccus did his ‘fearsome Roman’ bit with Chief Athalaric, I let my eyes take in the tall blonds who surrounded our mounted embassy. Long blond hair turned to gold in the slanting rays of the sun, gemstone eyes set above rich, red mouths sculpted for kissing. And do you know, as I sat, looking as martial as I could, one of them met my eye and made a very provocative gesture with his closed fist. That night I lay in our tent stroking myself and feeling those strong fingers probing inside me.

I was well on the way to coming when I heard Delicia, my hand-maiden, scream. The curtains around my bed were torn back and there stood a gang of young Goths laughing, swords unsheathed.

“Oh Aphrodite, don’t let me wake up now,” I prayed as they gathered close, their eyes bulging with lust in the lamplight.

Buy Links
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Direct from publisher

Author bio

John McKeown is a British writer based in Dublin. He lived in Prague where he was a teacher and freelance journalist and part of the ex-pat literary scene in the 1990s, then moved to Ireland in 2000 becoming a columnist for the Irish Examiner, and arts feature writer for the Irish Times. He was theatre critic for the Irish Daily Mail from 2006 to 2008 and is currently reviewing theatre for the Irish Independent and UK online theatre magazine Exeunt while raising his daughter Julia. His erotic short stories have been published by Xcite Books in the UK, who have also recently published his first novella Gooseflesh Abbey. JMS Books in the US is publishing two other erotic novellas, also in 2013, Prague Memoir and The Time Sex Machine. In addition to erotica John has four collections of poetry in print, the last, Night Walk published by Salmon Press in Ireland (available from Dufour Editions in the US). He has also collaborated with Leo O’Kelly of Irish folk-rock duo Tir Na nOg, on an album of songs entitled Will released in 2011 on Life and Living Records in the UK.

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Run for Your Love by Annabeth Leong

Run For Your LoveBlurb:

Shotguns seem to be everyone’s favorite accessory for the zombie apocalypse, but Zach Paul believes he can survive without hurting anyone—not even the zombies. An elite-level runner, he plans to speed away from every danger. Then Zach meets a woman he can’t bring himself to leave behind, and staying beside her tests all his principles.

Viola Ortiz fought free of her controlling boyfriend just before the zombies came, but now she believes her macho ex is the only one who can protect her. She sets out to reunite with him, only to encounter Zach instead. The tall, lean runner is everything her ex is not, and Viola is shocked to find he turns her on as no man has before. Viola’s ex, however, isn’t willing to let go of her, and soon it’s clear that other survivors are as dangerous as the zombies.

Zach and Viola can run, but they must find safety before they lose their humanity in the struggle to protect their lives and growing love.

Excerpt:

It may not have been too crazy for me to think I could keep clear of the zombies in the Quarantined Area. On the news everyone kept saying these are “slow zombies.” They’re dangerous, diseased, and mostly impervious to pain, but not the sort of terrifyingly speedy hunters that have been popular in movies lately. My plan to run in there was risky, but I like to think not completely doomed. I planned around my talents instead of just deciding I’d somehow figure out how to execute a standing long jump of multiple feet once I found myself staring down at concrete two stories below a rooftop. I trusted the only thing I’ve been able to rely on my whole life—my legs.

What I didn’t take into account were bullets—as in projectiles whizzing past my ears as I booked it down the sidewalk. Why the hell does everyone think the zombie apocalypse gives them a license to act like Rambo? I’m not just talking about what happened once zombies actually appeared in the middle of our city, eating brains, shambling, and whatever else they do. I’m talking about all the years of excitement about zombies—Facebook quizzes predicting whether your relationship would survive an outbreak, the sudden popularity of YouTube videos about parkour, and a pervasive cultural obsession with shotguns. I think people watched zombie movies and decided it would be great for the rule of law to break down to the point that they’d be allowed to solve problems by shooting first and asking questions later.

It’s not the most macho position to take, especially not in the neighborhood where I grew up, but I guess it’s clear by now that I’m a pacifist. Some other guy might respond to the looters by taking cover behind an abandoned building and pulling out his own gun to trade shots. That’s not my style.

Instead, I shouted, “What the hell?” and tried to run faster.

Two days into societal breakdown, street cleanliness had already suffered. Trash bags, newspapers, and other detritus littered the road, and I swear the pavement had more cracks than usual. It took all my concentration not to slip or break my ankle.

I don’t have experience dodging bullets, so I wasn’t sure if I’d be harder to hit if I tried to zig-zag or not. Since I didn’t know, I ducked my head, picked up the pace, and hoped for the best.

The guy with the gun shouted, “Drop the backpack!” Apparently, he thought bullets made good punctuation.

“There’s nothing in it!” I screamed back. Which wasn’t strictly true. I didn’t have any money or valuables, which I assumed was what they were looking for. On the other hand, the backpack had everything I thought I needed to survive in the Quarantined Area, so I didn’t want to give it up.

“Like hell it’s empty!” The guy chasing me squeezed off a few more shots.

The fact that he hadn’t managed to hit me yet confirmed one of the points I’d like to make about guns, which is related to a couple of the things I’ve already ranted about. A lot of people think you can just pick up a gun and go to town. That tells me that most people have never actually held a gun, much less fired one.

I’ve been to the shooting range a number of times with my older brother Dominic, and once, before a birthday party he celebrated one year in Vegas, that included firing machine guns. Before I’m accused of hypocrisy, I’ll add that Dominic spent a long time trying to get into the police academy, and I provided moral support while he studied and trained. Anyway, after several good tries, I learned that if you can hold a gun without your hand trembling uncontrollably, you’re doing well. And it takes training before most people can manage to hit, say, the broad side of a barn.

The looter chasing me might think he was tough, but he’d obviously never gotten the chance to practice with a gun. I promised myself I’d say a prayer of thanks as soon as I got out of range of him and his burly friends. I almost looked forward to the zombies at that point—at least I’d understand their motives.

Someone cried out behind me, and I risked a glance over my shoulder. One guy lay on the pavement clutching his ankle, probably a victim of one of the cracks I’d noticed earlier. Two of the others seized the excuse to quit running, squatting beside him clutching their sides, gasping, panting, and coughing. I allowed myself a satisfied smile. The guy with the gun hadn’t tired yet, but he would, as long as he didn’t manage a lucky shot before I finished putting him through his paces.

I lengthened my strides. It felt good to take my body to its limit, to dig as deeply as I could into the inner reserves I’d built up over the years… Right up until I realized I’d forgotten to keep an eye on the littered road.

My foot tangled in a plastic bag, and I went down hard. It was like something out of kindergarten—bloody knees, bloody palms, and pain that brought stinging tears to my eyes. A bullet hit the asphalt a mere foot away from me.

“Let up, man!” I made my voice as threatening as possible, despite my vulnerable position. “I got nothing!”

“Give me the backpack!”

Adrenaline forced me to my feet. I took a deep breath, preparing to push myself back into a run despite the stiffness already settling into my knees.

That wasn’t to be, because my fall had allowed the big guy catch up with me. He may not have known how to use his gun, but he sure as hell knew how to use his hands. He demonstrated on my trachea as soon as he got hold of me.

I hate to say it, but I froze. I thought about trying to stomp on his foot or something, but I didn’t really expect that to work, and I didn’t want to die a traitor to my own pacifist ideals. I helplessly pondered what to do as he squeezed my neck tighter, and I started to feel chilled and light-headed.

That was the first time I saw her, and considering how little oxygen was reaching my brain at that moment, you can probably understand why I thought she was some sort of apparition. She was beautiful. Sexy? Yes. She had the sort of curves that make a man want to spend long afternoons in bed just tracing the shape of them. Lips to match and ringlets of black hair that I immediately wanted to feel across my bare chest. But she was also beautiful in a holy way—some kind of light in the eyes or glow to the skin that reminded me of pictures of La Virgen. She was dressed all in blue too, which contributed to my impression that she wasn’t entirely of this world—my mother taught me that blue is Mary’s color.

Her small, compact body hurtled into me and my captor with force far beyond what I would have expected from her weight. She screamed that he ought to let me go, and his grip loosened, I think because he was so stunned. Neither of us knew where she had come from or what she had to do with me.

Unfortunately, the deranged looter’s first instinct after letting go of me was to go after her, specifically by hooking a finger through one of the big gold hoop earrings she wore. I stretched my own rules a little and jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow, hoping to distract him enough that my rescuer and I could both escape.

She didn’t have the kind of qualms I did. Out of one pocket, she produced a can of pepper spray and proceeded to administer a healthy dose straight into his eyes. I covered my face in time, but he gave a high-pitched scream and clapped his palms to his cheekbones. The gun hit my foot then the pavement. The woman screamed too, and I wondered if he still had her by the earring.

I dropped to the ground and crawled a few feet away, moving through the pain in my knees and palms. A glance at the woman showed she’d gotten herself free of her opponent’s grip and had grabbed the upper hand by far. She administered a series of precise and painful-looking strikes to his abdomen.

Any second, more of the looters would join this fight. I didn’t feel good about running away when she’d gotten involved in the first place because of me.

Pushing myself to my feet, I went over and grabbed her elbow, wincing when my scrapes contacted her skin. “We have to get out of here,” I told her. “Try to keep up.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t answer me. I took off running, feeling so much adrenaline by then that the pain in my knees didn’t really bother me.

She wasn’t next to me.

I whirled without stopping, in time to see her scoop the looter’s gun off the sidewalk and toss it into a glittery backpack she carried, slung too low to be entirely practical.

I took my own turn rolling my eyes. Just what I needed. Another Rambo wannabe. “Come on!” I shouted.

I have to admit that despite annoying me by going for the gun, she’d impressed me so far. The next thing she did really caught my attention. She grinned at me, as wicked and gleeful as if we’d gone out racing to settle a bet. Then she covered the distance I’d put between us so fast it took me a moment to realize I was being outpaced.

She shot past me and tossed another smile over her shoulder. “You better hurry,” she said, with a Puerto Rican accent and not a trace of effort. “Ahora, chacho. Those guys look mad.”

Buy Links:

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Breathless Press

 

Bio:

Annabeth Leong has written romance and erotica of many flavors — dark, kinky, vanilla, straight, lesbian, bi, and menage. Her titles for Breathless Press include the contemporary werewolf erotic romances Not His Territory and Not the Leader of the Pack, and Run for Your Love, a romance set in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. She lives in Providence, Rhode Island, blogs at annabethleong.blogspot.com, and tweets @AnnabethLeong

 

Buy One, Get One Free Offer:

Did you miss Annabeth’s previous titles with Breathless Press? Not to worry. E-mail proof of purchase of Run for Your Love, such as an Amazon receipt, to annabeth dot leong at gmail dot com and let her know your e-book format of choice. Annabeth will buy a copy of her werewolf novella, Not His Territory, for anyone who sends this information before November 12, 2013.

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Taking Flight by Tabitha Rayne

Taking FlightAvailable from:

Amazon UK
Amazon US

 Thank you so much for having me at your place!

I’m here to highlight my new erotic novel, Taking Flight – it’s book 2 in The Meeting Point trilogy – but don’t worry if you haven’t read book one yet (A Clockwork Butterfly) because it doesn’t matter which order you read the first two.

Hope this whets your appetite for a raunchy dystopian adventure ;)

Tiny snippet

“If we part ways,” he started but Deborah pressed a finger to his lips, she didn’t want to hear it, speaking it might make it true. He pushed her hand from his face and held it at his chest, his woozy gaze fixed on hers. “Deborah, if we part ways, I’ll find you. I’ll find you at the meeting point. Do everything you can to come. We are more than the physical.”

Longer snippet – Marcus and Deborah have just finished making love

Marcus flopped on top of her and she struggled to breathe with the weight of him on her chest. He shifted his body a little to allow her to take in air but held her fast with her fingers still jammed to her sex and him still inside her.

‘I want you to remember this moment. Remember this time of us being utterly as one.’ That look had returned, and panic rose in Deborah’s chest.

‘Silly talk …,’ she said dismissively and feigned a giggle, but his intense stare never wavered and she had to look away.

He was right. They’d got away with it for too long. He was sure to be found soon and taken to the farms. She thought of the day they’d made the decision to hide him here, in their home. He’d quit his job, saying he was going back to look after his parents south of the border. That was before the pleasure farms were common knowledge; where men were taken and used as playthings for the increasingly powerful Archmatria government. Deborah had heard rumours of their existence and they’d acted on them immediately, playing out an acrimonious split for the benefit of neighbours and colleagues, but he’d never left. He’d simply stayed indoors and hid.

‘Why don’t we start an uprising?’ Marcus had said, only half joking, before he’d gone into hiding. But they’d both known it would have been a futile waste of their remaining time together.

They’d decided the only way was to keep working on a cure. Or at least discovering a reason for the sudden proliferation of the toxins.

Deborah prised her way out from underneath Marcus and rolled onto her side. Their mingled fluids trickled from her onto the sheets and she reached down between her legs and gently cupped her hands over her sex, trying to keep it all inside. If she could keep it all in, maybe he would be able to stay for ever. The excitement from the discovery at the lab ebbed away, leaving a soft melancholy in its wake.

***

Harsh banging at the front door woke Deborah and Marcus into full alert. Panicking, Deborah frantically clutched at the detritus on her bedside table, searching for a clock.

‘Don’t bother.’ Marcus reached over and laid a calming hand on hers. ‘It’s still dark. They’ve come for me…’

Blurb

“Find me at the meeting point. We are more than the physical.

Four generations from now, toxins are ravaging the land and the future of mankind is in peril. The surviving men are being rounded up and taken to holding facilities. Research scientist, Dr Deborah Regan is hoping to stabilise the decreasing male population before her lover, Marcus becomes one of those taken away.

When the authorities come looking for Marcus, Deborah abandons her research to go on the run with her lover. They flee to the forests where they stumble across a couple who are intent on finding an ultimate sexual union where at the point of climax their spirits break free from their bodies and unite. Plunged into a life of lust and survival, Deborah soon realises she can easily slip into this trancelike state and she and Marcus set out to create a transcendent bond of their own. Can they achieve the ultimate unity before fate separates them for good?

An erotic dystopian fantasy following a young couple trying to elude capture and separation.

The prequel to A Clockwork Butterfly.

In a dying world – is love the only means of true survival?

Buy links for A Clockwork Butterfly

Amazon UK
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks

Tabitha RayneBio:

Tabitha Rayne has been told she is quirky, lovely and kinky – not necessarily in that order or by the same person. She writes erotic romance and as long as there’s a love scene – she’ll explore any genre.

Her short stories are included in anthologies from Xcite, Oysters & Chocolate, Cleis, Ravenous Romance, Mischief, and House of Erotica. She has novels with Beachwalk Press and Xcite Books.

TabithaRayne.co.uk
Facebook
Twitter
Brit Babes Blog
Amazon Author Page UK
Amazon Author Page US – provides an up to date book list
Goodreads

Thanks again and happy reading x x x

Categories: Guest Blogger, New Releases | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Design and Scandal by Annabeth Leong

Design and ScandalBlurb:

Costume designer Kahala Lin didn’t get into her line of work to make clothes for tiny models. She dreams of creating high-fashion masterpieces for BBWs such as herself. When she’s hired to work on costumes for the science fiction movie Laser Sentinel, she passes up the opportunity to dress the film’s heroine and ends up with the hardest job on set—pleasing the demanding and devastatingly handsome star, James Corwin.

James is one of Hollywood’s best known actors, but he’s in trouble when he’s forced into working on this dud of a movie. James can’t relax and enjoy the shoot on Hawaii’s black sand beaches. He needs to prevent this film from becoming an embarrassment, starting with making sure he’s not shot wearing nothing but spandex, a headdress and a ray gun. His collaboration with the new costume designer starts out promising, but soon he’s so busy taking off her clothes that he’s hardly thinking about what he’ll wear at all.

The press, however, discovers their relationship almost before it begins, and the resulting scandal threatens both their livelihoods and James’ chances with Kahala.

A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

 

Excerpt:

“Is James Corwin as hot in real life as he is onscreen?” Kahala Lin winced a little at the question, but couldn’t help herself. Apparently going to work on the set of an honest-to-God big budget film excited her more than she’d let on when Lani had first asked if she wanted the job.

Her friend Lani grinned, revealing a bit of the fangirl herself. “Hotter. I don’t think the camera captures exactly how beautiful his eyes are.”

Lani pulled her truck into the makeshift parking lot on the edge of the set, just out of sight of the black sand beach where the first two weeks of filming would take place. Kahala figured she’d better get the silliness out of her system now, so she could act professionally once she actually met her new colleagues and the contingent of movie stars.

Kahala winked. “Eyes. Not exactly the body part I was thinking about.”

Lani slapped her arm. “You are so bad.”

Kahala shrugged. A serious expression spread over Lani’s wide, friendly face. She narrowed her dark eyes and peered at Kahala. “They’re really strict about that, you know. They don’t want you bothering the stars.”

“I’m not going to embarrass you, Lani. Don’t worry.”

Lani rolled her eyes. “Sorry. I know you’re not a teenager. You nervous?”

“Nervous?” She shook her head firmly. “This is a fun job to me. I’m not looking for a career in the movies. Believe me, these aren’t the people I’m really hoping to dress. My designs are for women with meat on their bones, not size negative two like Madison Marin.”

Lani tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. “I hear what you’re saying. I appreciate it. You made me a gorgeous wedding dress, anyway.” She smiled, then paused. “I just don’t think you should dismiss the opportunity. You might make some good connections. The work you do here is going to be seen by millions of people. That has to be worth something, even if your clothes are on a skinnier girl than you’d like.”

Kahala looked out the window. The Big Island was prettier than she remembered, way less developed than Honolulu, where she lived. Here she could actually see glimpses of what the island must have looked like when her ancestors had lived there.

Lani took her hand. “What’s the matter, Kahala? Other than being excited to see James Corwin in person, you’re acting like you don’t want to be here.”

She summoned a smile. Her friend didn’t deserve to feel bad about this. “I’m really glad you set me up with this, Lani. Don’t get me wrong. I need seed money to get my design business into higher gear. It’s just that I swore I wasn’t ever going to make clothes for tiny girls.” She closed her eyes, remembering how she’d felt when she’d gone shopping back in high school, looking for knockoff versions of styles she’d seen in Vogue and W. “They didn’t even bother to make sizes larger than twelve for most of the clothes I wanted to wear when I was younger. When I started making my own stuff, I promised myself I wouldn’t make anything smaller than twelve. I want the skinny girls to wish they were bigger so they could wear my stuff.”

“This doesn’t take away from that,” Lani said. “Don’t worry about Madison Marin. You might not even end up working on stuff for her.” Lani lifted her shoulders and spread her hands wide. “You ready to do this, girl? For the next three months, we’re going to drink, breathe and eat this place. I hope you like coffee, because your next full night’s sleep won’t be until August.”

Kahala grinned. “You love this work.”

Lani smiled back. “Craft services is rewarding. Everyone’s so hungry and tired, they love everything we do. Believe me, I never felt so appreciated working in a restaurant kitchen.” She slapped the top of Kahala’s thigh. “Let’s go. This’ll be fun.”

***

Lani dropped Kahala off with Lawrence Marsh, head of costumes. His office was a trailer nestled under a stand of papaya trees. Whip-thin and more than six feet tall, the man’s pale skin shone bright and startling against the lush, tropical background. Kahala hadn’t known a person could be that color in Hawaii—even the whitest people typically had the grace to turn red. Lawrence wore a woman’s shirt, skinny jeans and more rings than a gypsy fortune teller. He greeted Kahala with a hug but broke it off to grab a papaya off the tree behind her.

Kahala smiled nervously while he produced a small knife from the back pocket of the skinny jeans and sliced the fruit open with surprising expertise. He ate a piece of juicy flesh off the point of the knife. He didn’t wait to finish chewing before speaking with a cultured British accent that, given his behavior, seemed incongruous. “Kahala Lin!” He sounded much more pleased to see her than she’d expected. “Lovely online portfolio. Very fresh.”

She started. “Thank you!” Lani had made it sound as if she’d pulled strings with the union to set Kahala up with this job. She hadn’t thought anyone would have paid attention to her work.

“I wish I had a star worthy of your talents,” Lawrence said, leading the way into his trailer. The inside looked like an exploded dress shop. Pieces of odd fabrics mingled with half-destroyed specimens of the latest designs from Fashion Week. A dressmaker’s form wore nothing but thin gold chains. Scissors and measuring tape tumbled off tables, and Lawrence possessed more sewing machines than one person could reasonably use. Tilted against the trailer’s AC unit, a laptop showed flashes of an odd shape rotating slowly in a computer-assisted design interface. “Don’t mind the mess,” Lawrence said, shrugging. “It’s my creative process. You understand. Pull up a chair.”

Kahala blinked. She couldn’t see a chair to pull up. The only thing around remotely resembling a seat looked about half as wide as she was. She stayed standing. “I’m really glad you liked the portfolio! What were you—”

Lawrence took another bite of papaya. “I loved it. Most designs for plus-sized women try to hide the body. You let the body do the work. You have a very nice eye for accentuating natural features. I can see it in the dress you’re wearing now.”

Was she blushing? “I did make it myself! How did you—”

“You couldn’t have bought a dress with that stitching for under three thousand these days.” He shuddered. “Machines are so much sloppier than most people realize.” He slapped the papaya down and took Kahala’s hand dramatically. She flinched but tried to roll with it. “I’m going to ask you to betray every instinct that makes your work special. Can you do it for me, Kahala?”

She blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“This is science fiction. The clothes need to do the work, not the body beneath them. Madison Marin’s got no body to speak of. You can’t rely on her shape. You have to give her a shape. Designers like bodies like hers because they can give them any shape they desire. I’m asking you to betray your obvious appreciation for the female form and work with the alien specimens we have here on this project—otherwise known as actresses.”

Kahala stared. “You’re assigning me to work with your female lead?”

“I believe in delegating.” Lawrence smiled tightly. “I’d planned to work with her myself, of course. I spent months drawing sketches for her. You’ll be following those, making adjustments as needed to the costumes I’ve started creating. I’d do it myself, gladly, but ever since I arrived on set I’ve had a certain problem that’s—James Corwin.”

“James Corwin?” Kahala echoed, confused. “That’s your problem?”

“Oh, James Corwin is about to be his problem, all right,” said a deep male voice behind her. Kahala jumped, turned, and found herself face to face with the screen idol himself, all six solid feet of him. James Corwin had played football in high school, and Kahala could see why. He had a linebacker’s build and muscle. He gripped the doorframe with big hands. His face wrinkled with distaste at the sight of Lawrence Marsh, but as his gaze settled on Kahala, his expression changed. His famous golden eyes focused on her and she caught the subtle flicks he used to check out her body below the neck. Kahala’s face heated and James smiled slowly, his nostrils flaring. His dark skin seemed much warmer in person than it did onscreen. The red tones in it caught the light so he almost gleamed.

“Hello,” James Corwin said, dragging the word out to two syllables and lifting his eyebrows with appreciation.

“Um, hi.” Kahala was relieved that her voice didn’t squeak.

Lawrence dropped a hand onto her shoulder. “I’m impressed again, Kahala. That’s the first civil word I’ve heard come out of this fellow’s mouth. Even if it reeks a bit of the chauvinist pig.”

James Corwin grinned. A slight gap between his front teeth marred his perfection just enough to make him convincingly real. He didn’t take his eyes off Kahala. “I can be nice if given reason.”

“Well I’m afraid I don’t have DD reasons,” Lawrence shot back.

Kahala bit her tongue before she could add that she wished they were just DD. Bra shopping would have been so much easier if Lawrence had been right about her size.

“Lawrence, that’s crass,” James said. He leaned in toward Kahala, his voice dropping and turning conspiratorial. “Don’t think I’m not a gentleman just because of the way I’m looking at you. I’m not saying I don’t appreciate the full package, but I also enjoy learning about a beautiful woman’s personality.”

A thousand red flags went up in Kahala’s mind. This man was trouble. It couldn’t have been clearer if he’d tattooed the word on his forehead in capital letters and accentuated them with glitter. Unfortunately she could be as circumspect about this as she wanted inside the sanctuary of her own thoughts, but that didn’t help to control her glee at the movie star’s compliments. He’d still made her grin like a fool.

James winked, mischief pulling one side of his smile higher than the other. “Well? You didn’t sound shy when you were talking with just Lawrence a minute ago.”

“I’m not,” Kahala admitted. She saw his challenge and raised him. Surveying his body frankly, she allowed herself a wicked grin. “I can’t make a call on your full package yet. I haven’t seen enough of it.”

James liked that response, clearly. He moved even closer. His fingers twitched against the doorframe as if they wanted to move to Kahala’s frame instead.

Lawrence broke into the moment before she could see where it would lead. “Whoo!” He fanned himself and continued with high-pitched sounds of appreciation. “It’s gotten very, very hot in here. Almost as if you two are forgetting the full workday we have in front of us.”

Kahala blushed. She’d gotten so caught up in coming up with cool responses to James Corwin’s flirtation that she’d forgotten to act professionally. “Sorry.” Instinct told her to leave the two of them to their business, but she couldn’t see a graceful exit out of the cramped trailer. Whether she ducked left or right, any attempt to leave would involve an intense negotiation between her body and that of James Corwin. She stepped back instead, then looked to Lawrence for direction.

Lawrence drew himself up even taller, so his Adam’s apple poked prominently out of his long, thin neck. “Before you arrived, Mr. Corwin, I was in the middle of delegating loads of work to Kahala here. She’s going to take over dressing Miss Marin for me, all so I can devote the bulk of my time to satisfying your demanding self.” His words sounded light and irreverent, but Kahala caught a strain of sincere irritation running through them.

Corwin must have picked up on that too, because he scowled in response. “I don’t know if I want any more of your attention, Lawrence. That’s what I came to talk to you about.” He sighed. All the playfulness he’d shown with Kahala had gone out of him. He seemed tired and far less glamorous. “The studio’s leaning on me to be here, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I’ll be professional, I’ll do as I’m told, but I won’t tolerate being made to look or behave like a fool.”

 

Buy Links:

All Romance eBooks
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Barnes & Noble
Ellora’s Cave
Kobo

 

Bio:

Annabeth Leong has written erotica of many flavors. She loves shoes, stockings, cooking and excellent bass lines. She always keeps a new e-book loaded on her phone and a paperback stashed in her purse, but her eyes are still bigger than her stomach whenever she visits a bookseller. She blogs at annabethleong.blogspot.com, and tweets @AnnabethLeong . Watch for her next contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave, Heated Leather Lover.

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New Release: Romancing the Stars by Various Authors

Romancing The StarsRomancing the Stars Anthology

Kacey HammellEmma LaiSandra SookooMarie TuhartLacey Wolfe

Publisher: Sybarite Seductions

Genres: New Adult, Contemporary Erotic Romance, Multicultural/Interracial

144 Pages

ASIN: B00FE2IACY

 

Romancing the Stars

~Fantasies that will make you see stars

Sexy stars abound in this collection of five, naughty stories that take you from red carpet premieres to time off from the screen and the auditioning, filming, and parties in between. Featuring young love rekindled, old lovers reunited, multicultural and interracial red carpet hook ups with the potential for more, and a BDSM couple with unexpected proclivities, there’s something to curl everyone’s toes and leave fans craving more.

 

A Sunday Kind of Love by Kacey Hammell

For Sunday Reardon, once an A-list actress, leaving the spotlight, hectic schedules and tabloid gossips behind for the quiet tranquility of her hometown was the best decision she ever made. She’s surrounded by her family, her gardens and has everything she needs. Except the love of her life, a past co-star who offered so many promises years ago, only to break them all.

When she’s nominated for an Academy Award, Sunday’s world shifts into confusion and what-might-have-beens as she comes face to face with the one man who broke her heart…and still sets her body on fire.

Read more about each Romancing the Stars story from these talented authors:

Emma LaiSandra SookooMarie TuhartLacey Wolfe

 

Excerpt © Kacey Hammell, 2013

“God, you feel so amazing in my arms. I wish you could come with me.”

Eyes closed, she nodded. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” Opening her eyes, she gazed at him. “Once the editing is finished, I need to get away from all this. I can’t deal with it any longer. And you know my dad’s having hip surgery. I need to help my mom.”

Shifting his stance, he slid his hands over the globes of her ass, urging her closer. “I know, babe. It’s okay. I won’t be gone long.”

She dug her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Nine months seems likes forever. You won’t forget me will you?”

A moan erupted from his throat as he dipped his head and latched his mouth onto hers. She savored him in her arms, revelling in his tongue dancing with hers. Passion, yearning, hunger, it was all there in his kiss.

Flexing his hips, Josh shifted his shaft to fit in the V between her legs. She gasped, her head falling back. Josh kissed his way down her neck, nibbling, biting, and driving the temperature a million times higher. She wanted to succumb to him now, to finally make love to him, but they couldn’t risk being caught.

He hauled her tighter, holding her so close she could barely breathe. But Sunday didn’t care. All she would ever need was this man in her arms. Feeling him against her, his body fevered against hers—nothing else mattered.

Josh lifted his head, his forest green eyes bore into hers. She could drown in his loving and hungry gaze. He knew her better than anyone else. While filming, they’d enjoyed so many secreted-away moments, revealing hopes and dreams and shared childhood stories imparting laughter. He was everything she’d ever need. And she couldn’t wait to tell the world.

But they couldn’t. Not yet.

“I know my leaving, since filming of my next movie is starting sooner, throws a kink in what we’d planned, but I promise, babe, I’ll be back as fast as I can. I’d rather be with you, starting our journey toward what I think will be a great future together. If I had any other choice—”

Understanding about commitments and responsibility, she covered his lips with her hand. “I know. It’s okay. We have time. We do. I’ll be waiting for you.”

He sighed. “I love you more than anything else.” He caressed her face. “I’ve waited so long for you already, it’ll be hell, but I know it will be worth it. Especially when we’re far away from prying eyes.”

She smiled, her heart booming with happiness. “And I love you.”

His cell phone vibrated. He yanked it from his pocket and groaned. “Damn, I have to go. They’re looking for me. Our flight leaves in forty-five.” His lips captured hers.

She poured all the love, hope, and belief of their relationship into the kiss. He had to come back. She couldn’t live without him now.

“I miss you already,” Josh whispered when he stepped back. His gaze travelled over her face as if memorizing every facet. Then he leaned down for his duffel bag. Straightening, he said, “I love you, Sunni.”

Tears in her eyes, she watched him walk toward the door. “I love you.”

He stared at her from across the room. Sunday wanted to rush over, wrap her arms around him and beg him not to go. But she couldn’t do that. She loved how dedicated and honest he was. There was no way she’d ever ask him to break his word.

With a last long, deep breath, he turned the door handle then exited the trailer. Feeling alone already, she sat in the vanity chair and gazed into the mirror. The love of her life had just walked out the door for war-torn Afghanistan. She worried for his safety but knew his people and the movie company would keep him safe while filming. All she could do was hold the love she had for him in her heart, and wait.

Available at:

Sybarite Seductions

Amazon US / Canada / UK

ARe

Smashwords

 

Kacey HammellAvid Reader. Romance Author. Redhead…

Canadian-born author, Kacey Hammell is definitely a book-a-holic, who began reading romances at a young age and became easily addicted.  These days, as a multi-published erotic romance author, she enjoys adding a lot of heat, sass and emotion to the Contemporary Romances she writes.

A mom of three, Kacey has made certain each of her children know the value of the written word and the adventures they could escape on by becoming book-a-holics in their own right. She lives her own happily ever after with her perfect hero in Ontario, Canada, and is a true romantic at heart.

Connect with Kacey…

Website / Newsletter / Facebook / Facebook Author Page / Twitter / Amazon / Goodreads / Pinterest / Instagram

Categories: Guest Blogger, New Releases | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Mean Girls by Lucy Felthouse

Mean GirlsAdele Blackthorne is a big girl, a curvy chick. She knows it, and she’s been picked on all her life because of it. But she’s gotten to the stage where she doesn’t care. She may be Rubenesque, but she’s healthy, too. Much healthier than the mean girls at the leisure center that point and stare and say spiteful things about her. Adele rises above it all, and simply enjoys her secretive glances at the center’s hunky lifeguard, Oliver.

As the bullying of Adele becomes worse, Oliver finds it increasingly difficult not to intervene. He doesn’t want to get into trouble with work, but equally he can’t stand to see Adele treated in such a horrible way. Especially since he doesn’t agree that she’s fat and unattractive. He thinks she’s a seriously sexy woman, and would like to get to know her better. Much better.

Buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/mean-girls/

*****

Excerpt:

As usual, Adele Blackthorne felt the weight of gazes on her as she walked from the changing room to the steps to get into the swimming pool. She was used to it by now, and had learned not to react, to just carry on as though she hadn’t noticed people staring and not-so-subtly pointing at her.

With a polite nod to Oliver, the lifeguard, as she passed him, Adele was grateful for his much more favorable reaction. If he thought she resembled a beached whale, he hid it much better than everyone else did. The warmth in his eyes as he nodded back even looked genuine. But she had no illusions, he probably slagged her off the moment he got into the staffroom, or home, talking about the fat woman who went swimming three times a week without fail. But for now, she’d pretend he didn’t. Pretend he thought she was sexy, and wanted to get lost in her abundant curves. God knows she’d like him to.

It was true, she was a big girl and she was most definitely aware of it. Ever since she’d gotten to the age where her excess weight could no longer be called puppy fat, she’d tried to do something about it. Every diet under the sun, ridiculous amounts of exercise… nothing worked. Adele had grown so depressed in her teens that she’d become bulimic. Naturally, she’d lost some weight that way, but she’d also made herself so ill that she’d had to be hospitalized. It had terrified the life out of her, and ever since, she’d resolved that she’d much rather be healthy than skinny.

Which was why she visited her local leisure center three times a week. She used the gym and sauna, and went swimming. And every single time she went, she’d catch someone gawping at her. But because of the years she’d spent—especially at school—being called all the names under the sun, she’d developed an incredibly thick skin. She was happy and healthy—so healthy in fact that she could probably beat all of those skinny bitches at a swimming race. Of course she never offered, never called anyone out on their rudeness and ignorance, but it made her feel better to know that she was fitter and much more polite than them.

Slipping into the fast lane, she settled her goggles carefully into position—she hated getting water in her eyes—then lifted her legs to rest the bottoms of her feet against the end of the pool. Looking at the clock on the wall that counted seconds, she waited until the hand reached the top, then pushed off from the side and launched herself into the lane. It was quiet, so she had this section of the pool to herself. Her arms cut through the water, her legs flapped wildly and she did ten laps without losing any speed. Emerging from the water, she checked the clock again and was pleased to note she’d beaten her previous time.

She was just about to start another ten laps, when she heard voices from the other side of the pool. Voices that clearly forgot how well they carried on water. It was as though they were right next to her.

“God, I’m surprised all the water doesn’t jump out of the pool when she gets in. And the way she swims—she’ll cause a tidal wave one of these days.”

The spiteful words were followed by a trio of sniggers, and Adele gritted her teeth. Part of her wished that she could create a bloody tidal wave, so it would sweep those bitches under water and drown them. The other part of her tsked at the thought. Ideas like that made her just as bad as them, just as unpleasant, just as cowardly.

Because they were cowardly—the way they spoke about her behind her back proved that. If they ever passed her somewhere in the leisure center or its car park, they never said anything, not one word. They’d just scurry away as fast as they could, then titter when they thought she was out of earshot. She hoped that just one time, someone would say something to her face, so she could retaliate, speak up for herself. There was no way she’d start anything—she didn’t want to add confrontational to the list of faults that the mean girls had obviously compiled about her.

Sucking in a deep breath, Adele launched into another ten laps, allowing the chilly water and the exertion of powering through it to burn away her irritation. Because that’s all it was—irritation. She wasn’t angry. Anger was too powerful an emotion, and one that was totally wasted on those ignorant women. She almost felt sorry for them, actually. If they had nothing better to do than to stare at her and slag her off all the time, then they clearly had very dull lives.

The thought cheered her considerably and when she completed her twentieth lap, she lay her forearms on the edge of the pool and hoiked herself up. Her back was pressed against the side, and from here she had a perfect view of the rest of the pool. Tugging her goggles down so they hung around her neck, she had a damn good look at everyone else. The small children and their guardians in the kids’ pool right at the other end of the enormous hall, the old people who swum so slowly as they chatted that she was surprised they stayed afloat, the relentless movement of the man in the medium-speed lane and, of course, the mean girls who were in the same sort of position she was, but at the side of the pool rather than the end. The side which faced the lifeguard station.

Adele narrowed her eyes and watched them—the two waif-like blondes and a brunette—as they chatted and giggled, and it seemed for a change, not about her. They’d clearly changed the subject since their previous spouting of vitriol. Their focus was very firmly on Oliver as he sat on his lofty perch, surveying the pools before him, ready to jump in should anyone get into trouble. She often toyed with the idea of faking a problem, just to get him into the pool and his strong arms around her. However, she knew that although he’d undoubtedly do his duty and help her, he’d never believe such a strong swimmer would need his assistance. Then he’d lose all respect for her, and probably stop hiding his disdain for her so effectively. And the polite nods and smiles she got from him were the only thing—aside from the center’s top-notch facilities—that made the place bearable. She was sure that if the three witches—a nickname she’d secretly come up with for the women—had their way, there would be a sign on the main doors to the building saying ‘No Fat People Allowed.’

*****

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over seventy publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include Best Bondage Erotica 2012, 2013 and 2014 and Best Women’s Erotica 2013. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Categories: Lucy Felthouse, New Releases | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

New Release: Yank by Selena Kitt

YankDavid has been brightening up his gray Surrey, England days with the porn collection hidden in his parents’ shed, but when he finds that their American foreign exchange student, Dawn, has discovered his magazines, things really begin to heat up. David’s parents insist that he look for a job, but Dawn has the week off and is determined to work on her tan. Distracted David finds himself increasingly tempted by their seductive foreign exchange student, who makes it very clear what she wants. In spite of the Study Abroad program’s policy that no “relations” are allowed between a student and anyone in their host family–not to mention David’s mother’s insistence that they treat each other as “brother and sister,”–Dawn’s teasing ways slowly break down the barrier between them until they both give in to their lust. But what are they going to do about the feelings that have developed between them in the meantime?

NOTE: This story appeared in another book titled NAUGHTY BITS. Previously titled Foreign Exchange, this is a slightly less naughty, but no less sexy re-telling–updated and redressed for your reading pleasure.

Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US

EXCERPT

“David?”

I woke up with a grunt, hearing my name being hissed from beside the bed. It was dark, but I could make out her outline in the moonlight coming through the window. She was on her hands and knees, crawling toward me.

“Dawn?” I felt her find the bed with a thud.

“Ow.” She whimpered.

“Christ!” I reached for her, groping in the dark. My hand found her arm, helping her up into the bed. “What are you doing?”

“Ta,” she said, thanking me. I could smell the alcohol on her now. “It’s a long way when you’re legless.”

“Shhhh!” I looked toward my door. I was listening for my Mum or Dad but didn’t hear them. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

“That’s where I am.” She crawled up against me in the dark and pressed me down, snuggling up against my bare chest. “Hey, you sleep naked! When did you start that?”

“Since I was fourteen,” I whispered. “Keep your voice down, Dawn.”

“I am.” She kissed my shoulder. “You feel good.”

“Okay.” I tried to untangle her limbs from mine. “You are pretty well lashed, and I think this is a bad idea. C’mon, let’s go.”

“Noooo!” She slid her bare foot up the inside of my calf. She’d lost her heels somewhere, I noticed, but I could feel the skirt and blouse pressed against me, her body full and warm underneath, flushed from the alcohol. “Don’t make me go.”

“I think you’d better.” I tried to sit, but she was clinging to me too tightly.

“I’ll scream,” she whispered into my ear, her breath hot against my neck.

“You will not.” I edged my way out from under her.

I heard her intake of breath and knew she really meant to do it. What was wrong with her? Panicked, I rolled onto her, finding her mouth with my hand in the dark and pressing it there, hard.

“Button it!” I hissed, feeling her wiggling and squirming underneath me. Her skirt was riding high up and I felt her bare thighs against mine, her skin like velvet.

“Unbutton it,” she murmured when I moved my hand away from her mouth, her fingers working her blouse from top to bottom between us. She pulled her shirt open, sliding her breasts against my chest, back and forth. Her nipples were hard, her breath hot with alcohol against my face, her hands roaming over my back. Why was she coming onto me like this all of a sudden? I didn’t get it.

 

AUTHOR BIO

Selena Kitt is a bestselling and award-winning author of erotic romance fiction and erotica. OVER A MILLION BOOKS SOLD! Her writing embodies everything from the spicy to the scandalous.

When she’s not pawing away at her keyboard, Selena runs an innovative publishing company (excessica.com). She does bellydancing and photography, and she loves four poster beds, tattoos, voyeurism, blindfolds, velvet, baby oil, the smell of leather, and playing kitty cat.

Her books EcoErotica (2009), The Real Mother Goose (2010) and Heidi and the Kaiser (2011) were all Epic Award Finalists. Her gay male romance, Second Chance, won the Epic Award in Erotica in 2011. Her FREE story, Connections, was one of the runners-up for the 2006 Rauxa Prize, given annually to an erotic short story of “exceptional literary quality,” out of over 1,000 nominees, where awards are judged by a select jury and all entries are read “blind” (without author’s name available.)

She can be reached on her website at selenakitt.com

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Categories: Guest Blogger, New Releases | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Guest Blogger: Matthew Stillman

WMS_blogtourErotica exposes some of the deepest truths about our individual and cultural desires. As a whole industry it works against our addictions to devices and  screens because it puts us squarely into feeling our bodies and connecting with emotions. In this way erotica is a balancing tool to keep us sane because the rest of our world is so stripped of real connections to erotic energy.

On the other hand sex has become so diffused in the general culture via advertising, easy access porn and elsewhere that we have lost the power of true transgression that helps us psychologically reconcile with the sexual mixed messages we have all received in Western culture.

50 Shades of Gray (regardless of you liking it or not) culturally latched onto the power of transgression because it  dealt with sex and power in a way that had never been done before – successfully and in public. The result? Yes, people talk openly about spanking and spreader bars – but they are talking about how power and submission mix can mix with sex and how that can have an aphrodisiacal quality for some who hadn’t yet found a way to deal with that fact.

One of the most powerful institutions in our culture is religion. And there hasn’t been a lot of healthy public sexual transgressions in that space since Madonna crawled around the stage at the VMA’s in 1984 singing “Like a Virgin.”

Love and religion are dear friends. They have a lot to say about each other.

But sex and religion have been at each other’s throats for a long time – certainly in the Western world.

In my new novel “Genesis Deflowered” I am taking on big religious transgression for the sake of turn on but also to help with the reconciliation of sex and spirit.

It saddened me that among the nearly five hundred sexual acts suggested in Genesis (where the sexual theology springs from for the Western world and where it left its religious colonial stamp) none of the acts were initiated by women and furthermore none we even described.

I imagined a parallel world where the Bible spoke about sex as a normal activity and drive that was found on all levels of creation. Where women had sexual agency and where kinks weren’t kinks at all, just activities that some engaged in. No shame. No original sexual sin.

“Genesis Deflowered” takes the classic poetic rendering of the King James Bible’s version of Genesis, full of “thees” and “thous” and without taking away a single word adds text to fill out the erotic life of every character from Adam and Eve in the beginning to Jacob and Rachel in the middle and Joseph in the end. But their erotic life is written in that same terse, poetic and chaste Elizabethans/Jacobean style as the orginal.

Some may call this blasphemous. And perhaps it is. And besides, is there really a call for biblical erotica written in Elizabethan English?

I feel that wherever erotic energy has been denied there will be a desire to see and feel it enter there. I feel people crave for women to have sexual agency. I feel that there is a need for all of us to be turned on by our spiritual sides or our sense of wonder.

“Genesis Deflowered” is my offering to that end.

————–

And Cain went out from the presence of the LORD, and dwelt in the land of Nod, on the east of Eden. His sin and his wroth drew the desire of his wife; for the mark summoned desire. And his wife was called Ishshah. And Cain knew Ishshah. In his wroth he gnashed his teeth as his heel entered the waters. And his wife wailed with the dust betwixt her joys; and her hair hung low and wild. And his hand bore into her secrets. And his wife kept his heel as the seas rose. She clasped his mark; and they saw the garden. She conceived, and bare Enoch: and he builded a city, and called the name of the city, after the name of his son, Enoch. And unto Enoch was born Irad: and Irad begat Mehujael: and Mehujael begat Methusael: and Methusael begat Lamech.

And Lamech took unto him two wives: the name of the one was Adah, and the name of the other Zillah. And in the tent they lay with each other. Lamech upon his knees knew the secrets of Adah. And Zillah delighted in the breast of Adah, as Lamech took the plow to the fertile land of Adah. And the liver of Adah shook, as they saw the garden together; and the seeds of Lamech scattered in the land of Adah. Then Zillah came upon Adah, and tasted of her mouth and polished neck, and found her secret with her hand. And by her hand did they journey to the garden. Lamech touched the faces of Adah and Zillah, and then he rested. And Zillah parted the thighs of Adah, and tasted of her nakedness until they saw the garden. And Zillah woke Lamech, so that she might be filled for her hunger. And Zillah and Adah hid the rod amidst their breasts, and drank of the staff of Lamech, as he anointed them. Lamech pressed into the waters of the land of Zillah, and scattered his seed there. And that night Lamech and Adah and Zillah rested together in the garden.

———

Genesis DefloweredWhere many see the Bible as the pathway to Heaven, others say it should be covered in a brown paper bag because it is so, so filthy.

There are hundreds of sex acts implied in the first book of the bible (and sadly none initiated by a woman). How has nobody ever described how each of them would have played out in biblical language?

If the writers and translators of the Bible had been a little less prudish we might have an entirely different relationship between sex and religion than we have now. In Genesis there is sex before marriage, threesomes, incest, group sex, kinky fetish cuckolding, gay sex and more.

Isn’t it time that you read the Bible for the dirty parts?

Using the seminal King James Bible in its Elizabethan English as spring board,”Genesis Deflowered” makes the beginning of the Bible come out as a sexy, readable and fun erotic novel.

“Genesis Deflowered “: equal parts holy scripture and blaspheming scandal

Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Barnes & Noble
Kobobooks.com


Matthew StillmanAbout the Author

Matthew Stillman is a born and bred New Yorker. With the exception of college he has always lived in Manhattan. After scoring a BA in Comparative Literature from SUNY Geneseo, he got into programming at Food Network and developed shows like Iron Chef, Good Eats and many, many others. He also started improvising with the Upright Citizens Brigade shortly after they first arrived in New York, and he still does.

“The End of Poverty?” was his first film. He conceived of it, wrote the first treatment, co-produced it and spoke at the UN four times about it after it premiered at the Cannes Film Festival and went to 40 festivals around the world.

After a lifetime of a making out with literature, inner spiritual work from different traditions, creativity and play. He has written “Genesis Deflowered”. It is his first full length book. And, of course, he started with a genre that he may well have just made up – Biblical Erotica written in Elizabethan English.

He is married to an exceptional woman from Sheffield in the North of England. He blogs at stillmansays.com where he writes about his ongoing creativity experiment in Union Square. And you can find him on twitter at @stillmansays

Categories: Guest Blogger | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment

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