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The Eligible Billionaires Boxed Set (Books 1-5) by Maggie Marr

Special price $6.99 (price goes up to $9.99 on 5th January 2017)

Blurb Eligible Billionaires Boxed Set Books 1-5:

For a *LIMITED* time Get five Bad Boy Eligible Billionaires for one ultra low price! Meet Cole, Tristan, Nick, Ryan, and Trevor. Jet set from South America, to L.A. from the exotic resort of Mesquale to France, with a media mogul, corporate raider, real estate tycoon, resort owner, and restaurant heir. Each Bad Boy Billionaire is shockingly sexy both in and out of the bedroom. Enjoy all five of the Bad Boy Eligible Billionaires!

Buy links:

Amazon: http://mybook.to/eligible1to5

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/eligible-billionaires-box/id1167094956?mt=11

Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/eligible-billionaires-box-set-books-1-5-maggie-marr/1124918311?ean=2940156874484

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/eligible-billionaires-box-set-books-1-5

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Maggie_Marr_Eligible_Billionaires_Box_Set_Books_1?id=ssZJDQAAQBAJ&hl=en

*****

Excerpt from Can’t Buy Me Love (Eligible Billionaires Book One)

“Is it always this hard?”

For Cole Jackson only one response answered Meg’s question: Yes. Every conquest was the outcome of a hard-fought battle, every win the results of a decimated other side, every challenge more difficult than the last. Otherwise, what was the point? With ease came softness and with softness a swift defeat.

Cole yanked at the knot of his cobalt blue tie, tired of the daylong stranglehold. On the far side of his office window, night sucked away the last light of day as the sweltering orange sun surrendered to the Pacific. The streaks of pink, orange, and fuchsia that decorated the sky failed to captivate Cole. He could witness such displays of color on any horizon, in any city, on any night—so why waste time with this sunset?

Cole reached for the crystal decanter stationed on the bar in his office. His pour was generous and neat. Amber liquid shimmered in the final rays of the sun. He sipped the bourbon. Heat slid down his throat, but the liquor didn’t scorch him nearly as much as the woman who, after a six-month absence, now stood in his office.

“There are cell phone towers up and down the entire California coastline and the one spot in Los Angeles where I can’t get a signal is your office?”

Meg Parson’s voice was brighter and lighter than the curves of her body would suggest. She shifted her weight and her hip teased forward against her suit skirt. The outline of bone against taut fabric taunted Cole with hints of lace panties. In a careless moment his gaze roamed over her legs, caressed her skirt, and brushed over the outline of her breasts.

Hunger for Meg clutched his belly and twisted hard. Cole turned toward the ocean and the unwatched sunset—away from Meg. Better to feign interest in the blossom of color on the horizon than to indulge his desires to stare at his colleague and former assistant.

“Hello? Hello?” Meg said into the phone.

In the window, Cole caught Meg’s reflection as she flipped her long sable-colored hair over her right shoulder. She tightened her jaw and closed her eyes.

His stomach clenched as Meg’s tongue caressed her pout of a mouth. Cole took another slug of his drink, hopeful that the liquid heat burning down his throat would distract him from his desires.

No. Luck.

He set his jaw in opposition to his craving and pulled his gaze away from Meg’s indelible imprint on the glass. He didn’t need the reflection; her every sinew was seared into his mind but Meg was off-limits.

In the three years she’d worked for him, Meg made herself indispensable, and he had been fool enough to let her become a necessity. She knew everything about him—from the way he took his coffee down to his shoe size. She ran his business affairs seamlessly. He leaned on her. Depended on her. Cole even began to need her and needing anyone was intolerable. To need a person was to appear weak. Need allowed vulnerability to take root. Need was the end of strength. No, to need Meg was completely unacceptable.

“Yes, hi. This is Meg Parson. I have Cole Jackson for Stan Morton,” Meg said.

With the sound of his name on her lips he faced her. This was a business deal, nothing more.

“Of course I’ll hold.” Meg covered the mouthpiece and her blue eyes sparkled with the thrill of the deal. “Why didn’t we use your landline?”

Cole’s heart quickened as Meg’s excitement spilled over to him. Cole sipped his drink and watched Meg over the top of his glass. This time, her proximity, and not the bourbon, seared through him.

“They’re getting Stan,” Meg whispered, still covering the mouthpiece.

Stan Morton owned one of the two things Cole wanted most in the world: TBC Studios.

And the other thing?

Cole’s eyes traced the porcelain curve of Meg’s neck as she twirled a piece of hair between her thumb and pointer finger. Well, the other thing wasn’t for sale, nor was it negotiable. Office dalliances weren’t Cole’s style and neither was a long-term commitment. Meg was the type of woman who required he break both rules, and Cole preferred his relationships exactly as they’d been for the past decade: hot, fast, and disposable.

This deal was Meg’s baby, and once it was consummated Cole would have to promote Meg. If he waited any longer another company would swoop in and grab her. One of his competitors might already be trying.

“How will you celebrate?” Cole rarely asked Meg anything so personal. A dusty pink flush crept over Meg’s ivory-colored cheeks.

Protectiveness surged through Cole.

“I’m thinking Bali.” A smile started in Meg’s eyes and quickly encompassed her whole face as she thought about a luxurious and well-deserved beach vacation.

“Nice choice.”

“And you?”

*****

Author Bio:

Maggie Marr is the author of contemporary romance and women’s fiction. She writes smart, sexy, women and the men they love. She got her start in Hollywood pushing the mail cart at ICM, but quickly rose through the ranks to become a motion picture literary agent. As well as writing, she maintains a boutique legal practice dedicated to the needs of creatives & entrepreneurs. She is the current President of Los Angeles Romance Authors (LARA) and legal adviser to the Women’s Fiction Writers Association (WFWA). Maggie loves all things pop culture and when she isn’t taking care of her clients or writing she can be found reading, chasing kids, or exercising her rescue pup

Social Media:

Website:  http://www.maggiemarr.net/

Newsletter:  http://www.maggiemarr.net/about/newsletter

Facebook:  http://www.facebook.com/maggiemarrbooks

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/maggiemarr

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30741954-a-forbidden-love

Release blitz hosted by Writer Marketing Services.

 

They must both learn to trust again in order to save her ranch and her life. @TeriLRiggs #westernromance #ColtraneCorners #OldWestRomance

Blurb:

Elizabeth Coltrane has given up on finding a man who will love her in spite of the physical and emotional scars she carries thanks to a mountain lion attack. When her father is murdered, she inherits Coltrane Corners. The only man she can trust to save her cattle ranch is the foreman she just fired…and the man she’s loved since she was a child. But can Elizabeth keep her desire for Chase under control and her heart safe as they work side by side every day?

Chase Cameron is determined the bad blood of his abusive pa will end with him and vows to never marry. When Elizabeth needs his help getting her cattle to market, Chase has to decide if he can do the job while fighting the strong attraction he has to her.

When accidents begin to happen, threatening Elizabeth’s life, Chase discovers he is willing do whatever takes to keep her safe. They must both learn to trust again in order to save her ranch and her life.

Available from Amazon: http://mybook.to/coltranecorners

*****

Excerpt:

Chase stepped past her and stood next to the buggy. “Everett sent me to fetch you home. Now if you’d be so kind as to step aside, Miss Elizabeth, I’d be happy to load your trunk in the back of the buggy.”

Although she deserved his sarcasm, she cringed at the way he said ‘Miss Elizabeth.’ “I’d rather stick a cactus needle in my left eye than ride anywhere with you.”

“I think that can be arranged, but I imagine a poke in the eyeball would hurt like the dickens.”

“I’ve been gone six years, and you haven’t changed a bit, have you? Everything’s a big joke. You’re more infuriating than ever.” What was wrong with her? She couldn’t keep the hateful words from tumbling out. “I’d hoped you might have learned a few manners and social graces. But here you are, still a simple cowpoke.”

“What can I say? Once a donkey’s behind, always a donkey’s behind.” He threw her words back at her. “You know how things go when you spend your days chasin’ after cattle and ridin’ fences. A man can’t be expected to learn much in the way of social graces when he’s out mucking through pastures full of cow patties and horse dung.”

She’d finally pushed him too far, gotten a reaction from him that wasn’t served up with a smile. Elizabeth saw the hurt in his eyes, heard the anger in his voice. Her face heated with guilt.

“I may have been overly crude when I called you simple and a donkey’s behi… Well, you know what I said.” She let her eyes drift down. She shouldn’t have spoken in anger. The insults weren’t very ladylike, but considering the way he’d treated her in the past, she’d truly thought he deserved the words…until she saw the hurt in his gaze.

“I accept your apology—such as it is.”

Her head jerked up. “I wasn’t offering you an apology.”

“No kidding.” His voice was low. “I’ve tried to ignore your bad behavior since this is your first day back, but damnation, Elizabeth, when did you turn into such an uppity snob?”

“Pardon me?” She tilted her head to one side. “I’m not a snob.” Well, maybe she did sound a little snooty, but he was the one to blame for that. He brought out the worst in her. “I don’t—”

He cut her off. “Never mind.”

Her eyes followed Chase as he sauntered back to the stagecoach in that don’t-rush-me cowboy way that always looked so darn good on him. Oh yes, years of hard work had definitely added plenty of muscle and strength to his broad shoulders. He picked up her heavy trunk as if it weighed less than a barn cat and carried the chest on one shoulder to the carriage without even breaking a sweat. He made quick work of securing the trunk, then he was back at her side, standing a bit too close for her liking.

“You gonna let me escort you home or are you planning on walking?” He glanced down at her feet and shook his head. He looked up, tipped his hat back, and scratched his forehead. “I can tell you right now, the fancy city boots you’re wearin’ aren’t gonna carry you very far.”

Elizabeth weighed her options and wondered how she’d managed to back herself into a corner so quickly. Of course she wasn’t going to walk all the way to the ranch, but she sure as heck wasn’t about to admit that to Chase. She couldn’t very well rent a horse from the livery—she wasn’t dressed suitably for riding. Maybe she’d hire a carriage instead.

“Damnation, Elizabeth. Either you’re comin’ or you’re not.”

“I’m still thinking. There’s no need to raise your voice at me.”

“If you’re gonna be noodling on your decision much longer, I’m gonna march my boots over to Burt’s Saloon and have a drink.”

“What a good idea. You go have your drink, and I’ll noodle on the subject a while longer. I’ll give you my answer when you return.”

He was grumbling under his breath as he walked away. She heard him anyway. “Well, if this don’t beat all. Damn fickle woman.”

Fickle? She’d show him fickle. “Oh, Chase, before you go, would you be kind enough to give me a lift up? I’d just as soon sit while I noodle.”

He stomped back in her direction, kicking up small clouds of dust.

She liked—perhaps a little too much—the warm, confident feel of his large hands wrapped around her waist as he gave her a boost up.

“Ten minutes, Miss Elizabeth. Then I’m comin’ back and you’d best have an answer for me.”

Elizabeth busily tucked her skirt’s mountain of material into the carriage.

“I promise. You’ll have your answer when you return.”

For the first time since she’d stepped from the stagecoach, she graced him with a smile.

***

Chase swung open the saloon doors, still riding high on the smile Elizabeth had offered. A smile more brilliant than a Texas sunrise and more embracing than a Texas sunset, he marveled. Instead of the braids she’d worn as a child, her blonde hair was now pulled back in a tight chignon. Several whisper-thin tendrils had escaped, caressing the smooth looking skin of her face. His fingers itched to tuck the flyaway wisps of hair back behind her ears. Better yet, he wanted to toss the stupid hat, free the hair from its tight bun, and run his hands through the loose curls.

Elizabeth confused him. He was drawn to her, yet she’d been nothing but pure mean since she’d stepped off the stage. But damned if a certain one of his body parts wasn’t about to embarrass him in the middle of Burt’s.

What was he thinking? Elizabeth was off-limits. She was right. He was nothing but a simple cowpoke. She deserved better. Hell, for all he knew, he’d turn out like his pa a few years down the road. And what would her father think? Everett was not only Chase’s boss and mentor, he’d become his closest friend over the years. He’d definitely want more than a simple cowpoke with bad blood in him for his daughter. Maybe when Chase’s ranch became successful, he’d finally feel respectable. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Nope. Wasn’t gonna happen. Even when the ranch began producing, his past would haunt him. He’d stick to his plan, one which didn’t include Elizabeth, or any other woman. Now all he had to do was convince his unruly body part of the fact.

He ambled to the bar, ready for a drink, and hoping to put all thoughts of Elizabeth out of his mind. The piano wasn’t playing. Then again, it seldom was until evening when things livened up in town. This time of day, the only noise came from the loud voices and laughter at the table where a group of men were playing a rowdy hand of poker. The place smelled of stale tobacco and cheap perfume. Only two of Burt’s saloon hall girls were strutting their assets around. They were dressed in colorful, flesh-baring costumes and cheap boas. Chase thought of Elizabeth’s feathered hat and smiled. She’d probably paid a fortune for the damned thing. He saddled up to the bar, with a grin still plastered across his face.

Burt brought him his usual shot glass full of whiskey and set it down in front of him with a loud thwack, then did a double take.

“Damn, Chase. What’re you all gussied up for and smiling like an idiot about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you crazy old geezer. Been dippin’ in the barrels a little too much today?”

“I don’t drink this piss-water. I just sell the stuff to fools like you.” Burt leaned in and sniffed. “So come on and tell me, what’s the pretty smell? You’re wearing cologne, ain’t you? Kinda reminds me of cloves.”

“It’s called bay rum and it’s none of your business how I smell.”

“You’re all shaved, bathed, and wearing clean duds.” Burt stared at him for a moment. “Hell in a handbasket, you done gone and dusted off your Stetson. Something’s up.”

“Well, if you gotta know, I’m escorting the boss’s daughter home to Coltrane Corners. I thought maybe, since she’s been living back East for the last six years, she might not be appreciative of ridin’ alongside a dust-covered, unshaven, cattle-smelling ranch hand.” Simple cowpoke my ass. “Now if you’re done mindin’ my business, I’d like to enjoy my whiskey in peace and quiet, and then be on my way.”

The nosey barkeeper leaned forward, elbows on the bar. “Can I ask you one more quick question?”

“If it’ll buy me a moment of alone time? Sure, ask away.”

Burt stood straight, lifted a glass, and wiped at the rim with a cloth. “Are you picking up Miss Coltrane in the Coltrane carriage?”

“Of course I am. You don’t think I’m gonna toss her over my horse’s back and ride away into the sunset with her, do you?” Chase scrutinized Burt’s face and narrowed his eyes. “Why’re you asking?”

“’Cause if my eyesight ain’t failed me, I believe the Coltrane Corners’ rig took off about the same time you was a-walkin’ through the saloon’s doors smiling like a ninny. And you, my friend, weren’t riding in it.”

*****

Author bio:

As a child, Teri made up her own bedtime stories. When her children came along, Teri always tweaked the fairy tales she told her daughters, giving them a bit more punch and better endings when needed.

Now she spends her days turning her ideas into books. She lives in Marietta, GA with her husband.

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Release blitz hosted by Writer Marketing Services.

 

Gray Christmas: New Holiday Treat from Lisabet Sarai

Gray Christmas Blurb:

Widowed author Emma Granger has reconciled herself to spending Christmas Eve in snowy Boston, with a bottle of wine and her cat. A crash from the apartment above overturns her plans for a quiet evening at home. When she investigates, she meets Nick North, an energetic iconoclast with a gray ponytail, a silver earring and bright blue eyes that kindle feelings she’d thought were gone forever.

 

 

 

You’re never too old for some holiday naughtines

 

 

Buy Gray Christmas Here:

Amazon  US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N6JJIQD/

Amazon UK –   https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01N6JJIQD/

Smashwords –  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/691291

 

Coming to other vendors soon! (I hope…)

 

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33550862-gray-christmas

 

 

Gary Christmas Excerpt:

A bit of gray frizz peeked out from the neckline of his tee. I wondered if he was hairy all over, then blushed when I realized he was looking at me. Did he know what I was thinking? God, I hoped not! How embarrassing it would be if he realized a horny old grandmother was lusting after his body!

 

I nibbled at my cheese, glancing out the window so I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. “It’s snowing harder.”

 

“Good thing we’re warm and cozy together in here.” Something in his tone made alarm bells ring. When I turned my attention to him, though, he was studying his cracker.

 

“So—um—what about you? Are you married?” Might as well take the bull by the horns.

 

“Was.” He wiped his elegant fingers on his napkin. “She left me for a younger man. About ten years ago.”

 

“Ouch! That must have hurt.”

 

“Yeah, especially since I was in the hospital recovering from heart surgery at the time.” His manner was nonchalant, as though we were still discussing the weather. My chest grew tight in sympathy. “She was a selfish bitch.”

 

“I think you’re being too kind.”

 

“I’m lucky she’s gone. I’m better off without her.”

 

“I think I’d have to agree.”

 

“Though I have to say she was great in bed.”

 

For that, I had no reply. I fumbled with a piece of flatbread, trying to hide my confusion, but I could feel my cheeks were flaming red.

 

“What about your husband? Was he a good lover?” I couldn’t look at him. I knew there’d be a saucy grin on those enticing lips, and a brash twinkle in those eyes.

 

How could I explain about Tom and me? All the great years we had together, so many erotic adventures, and then the pale, bland final decade, when he’d lost interest in fucking. Not that it had been his fault. Between menopause and arthritis, sex simply stopped being fun for me. He hated knowing that penetration caused me pain, so he pulled away, and God help me, I was almost relieved. But now I missed the days when we both loved my body, almost as much as I missed Tom himself.

 

I could hardly share all that with a stranger, though.

 

 

About Lisabet:

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

 

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.

 

 

An X-Rated Visit with Lily Harlem!

 

It’s not just the mulled wine and mice pies that have me heated around the edges today, but it’s the fact I’m sharing them with my dear friend and fantastic writer, sister Brit Babe, Lily Harlem, who’s popped in to talk about her sizzling new novella, X-Rated! Welcome, Lily! Have another pie and do tell!

 

***

 

Hi Kd, thank you for inviting me to your blog at this festive time of year. It’s always fun to pull up a chair, enjoy a glass of mulled wine and a mince pie with you.

 

I’ve brought with me my hot new novella, X-RATED, which is sure to heat up the coldest of winter nights. I really enjoyed writing this story, it’s about a married couple who have lost their way in the bedroom. So many stories are written about new couples who have just met and are getting down and dirty for the first time, so given the chance to work with characters who already have an established relationship offers a whole different set of dynamics. Because when love and trust is already established, when each partner knows they will be supported not judged when confessing a kink or desire, the only limits are imagination.

 

I hope you’ll check out my story and perhaps it will give you sexy ideas for some festive fun with that special person in your life.

 

Lily x

 

 

Back Cover Information

 

 This weekend, Polly and Lucan work the kinks into their relationship.

 

When Polly is caught in a compromising position with a toy and a hardcore video, she doesn’t think her husband will ever go near her again. She feels twisted, nothing like the sweet wife he married. Little does she know, she’s awakened a monster by prodding Lucan’s sexual beast and making him sit up and take notice.

 

Finally.

 

But what about Lucan’s needs? He’s been so busy at work that things have gotten out of his grip to the point he can’t even remember his fantasies.

 

During a weekend of passion and turmoil, heat and pleasure, they vow to never drift apart again. Neither can imagine just how far they’ll go to please the other, or how well matched their particular variety of kinks are.

 

BUY LINKS – http://www.lilyharlem.com/x-rated.html

 

Here’s an excerpt taken from near the beginning of the book…

 

Her mouth dried. She wondered if she’d be sick. It was too late to hide what she’d been doing. It was obvious. Legs akimbo, vibrator deep in her pussy and her skin laced with sweat, there was no denying she’d been having a whole lot of fun on her own.

But he’d never, ever seen her like this. Hell, he’d never even asked her if she masturbated, or encouraged her to touch herself when they’d been together under the duvet.

“Maybe I…I should leave you to…” he said, color running from his face. “Finish doing what you’re…doing.”

Polly felt her eyes prickle. Shame, mortification and humiliation swamped her. Damn it, why hadn’t she put the chain on the front door? Why was he home so early?

She grabbed for a pillow and pressed it to her torso, covering her pussy and the vibrator and her breasts. She shut her eyes. “Go. Get out.”

A tear squeezed from her left eye and trickled down her cheek. How would she ever recover from this? Her husband catching her masturbating.

Now he’d know that he didn’t hit the spot for her. That she was unfulfilled.

She held in a sob and sneaked her hand between her legs. She pulled the vibrator out with a soft slide, her orgasm now a distant memory. She clenched her fists, tugging the pillow closer as she drew her legs together, pushing the laptop aside. A bitter taste filled her mouth as images of divorce courts, a new small flat just for herself, a bitter custody battle over Tilly, filled her mind.

She buried her face in the pillow, hoping that Lucan would just leave the house. Go away for the weekend, come back when she’d recovered.
Who was she kidding? A weekend? She’d never recover from the shame of this moment, not in a million years.

Maybe he’d just leave now, forever. And that would be it.

A fresh stream of tears attacked her and she let them soak into the pillow. She didn’t want him to leave. She loved Lucan. Always had and always would. He was the one for her and she’d meant those vows when she’d said them in church in front of all of their family and friends. Till death do us part was what she’d intended.

Eventually she opened her eyes. Her heart was thudding, her pulse surging in her ears. She’d have to get dressed and put her vibrator away.

Lucan was standing at the end of the bed, still staring at her with that open-mouthed expression of disbelief.

“Go,” she said again, her voice shaky. “Get out, Lucan.”

He shook his head. His attention went to the laptop.

“Lucan…” A full body tremble attacked her. “Leave.”

“Who’s there?” He nodded at the laptop.

“What?”

“Who is it? Who were you talking to?”

“I…no one.”

He tossed his tie to the floor and folded his arms. “I’m not stupid, Polly. You were connecting with someone online. What is it? Facetime? Skype?”

“No.” What was he talking about?

He reached for the laptop.

So did she. “Give it back.”

They both had a hold of it. Her breasts jiggled as she tugged.
“Polly.” He glared at her. “Let me see. I need to know who you’re cheating on me with.”

“Cheating?”

“Yes. You’re my wife,” he spoke slowly and deliberately, “and if another man is seeing you…do this…seeing your…I need to know.”

She’d never heard his voice so low and dangerous. Or seen his dark eyebrows pulled together that way. His jaw was set to steel and his usually smiling mouth a thin, pained line.

“I’m…I’m not cheating.” She gripped the laptop harder. Maybe it would have been better if she was cheating. The thought of him seeing the porn movie she’d been watching was horrendous. He’d think her perverted and twisted.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not. I’ve never cheated on you. I never would.” The pillow fell away completely.

His attention drifted over her naked body.

It was like a heated caress. When had he last seen her without clothes? She couldn’t remember.

God, what had happened to them?

“So you’ll show me then. If there’s no one there. No one on the other side of the camera?”

“Camera? You really think I’d be filming myself do that?” She was shocked at the thought. The porn stars did it sure…but her? Little Polly Hartgrove from Amersham, office mouse, wouldn’t say boo to a goose. “Of course there’s no one there.”
He gave an extra hard tug and she was forced to let go. He huffed, a small triumphant sound, and marched to the opposite side of the room. His shirt had come partly untucked and hung in a ruck over his neat navy suit trousers.

Polly raced after him, the air cool on her skin. But she didn’t reach him fast enough and he’d flipped it open.

A wave of relief went through her as she looked over his shoulder. The password box sat safely in the center of the screen.

He stooped, fingers spread over the keyboard and typed.

A tinny ping reported he’d got it wrong.

He tried it again.
Polly’s heart was racing, her breaths shallow. She wanted to grab her robe but was too caught up in the moment. She prayed he wouldn’t guess her password was Tilly.

But of course he did.

The screen filled with the last shot Polly had seen. The actress’ butthole filled with thick cock. Her fingers were in her pussy and the man gripped her hips. The sounds that suddenly rang around the room were horrific. Wails and cries, panting and gasping. Crude words and the wet, slapping noise of flesh on flesh.

Lucan straightened, his gaze glued on the screen.

Polly clasped her hand over her mouth to hold in a cry of mortification.

“You were…watching this?” he said, not looking at her.

She didn’t think he needed an answer.

 

 

 

 

About Lily Harlem

 

Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is an award winning, bestselling author of erotic romance. After giving up a busy career in nursing she now spends her time enjoying her rescued pets and penning steamy stories. She writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including, HarperCollins, Totally Bound, Pride, Evernight, All Romance eBooks and Stormy Night Publications. She also self-publishes novels that range from emotionally charged erotic romance, to steamy ménage a trois.

One thing you can be sure of, whatever book you pick up by Ms Harlem, in whichever pairing or genre, is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy so make sure you hang on tight for the ride! Subscribe to her newsletter to get a FREE ebook.

 

Find Lily Here: 

 

Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/

Newsletter Subscription http://www.lilyharlem.com/newsletter.html

Blog http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/

Twitter https://twitter.com/lily_harlem

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/lily.harlem

 

 

Out Now—Classic Felthouse: Stories from the Archive by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985)

Classic FelthouseBlurb:

Fancy a blast from the past? Then dip in to five short stories from the Lucy Felthouse archive. A handful of her earliest published tales have been polished up and presented to you in one seriously hot collection. Enjoy a sexy soldier, a buxom babe, erotic daydreams, filthy phone sex and a language barrier, and see where it all began for this prolific author of erotica and erotic romance.

Buy links:

Amazon (universal link): http://mybook.to/classicfelthouse

All Romance eBooks: http://bit.ly/2gs48VN

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2gsbpor

iBooks: http://apple.co/2hp6bfo

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2gR7faE

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*****

Excerpt from Fantasy Assignment:

I couldn’t believe my luck when I heard what my next editorial assignment was. In fact I discreetly pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

My editor wanted me to write an article on Single Living Accommodation in the British Army. The British Army. Big deal, I hear you thinking. Perhaps I’d better explain. I have a real thing about men in uniform, I always have had. Stick me in front of a hot guy in uniform and I’m putty in their hands. So you see, I was rather excited at the prospect of being around all those sexy men. And even better, I was going to be paid for it. Talk about perks of the job.

The article was planned into an upcoming edition of the glossy women’s magazine I work for. The ‘careers special’ was designed to give the readers an insight into different industries and jobs within them.

I only had a few days to prepare for my assignment, so I did my homework and made lots of notes. I always like to be well prepared, to avoid the chance of messing something up and getting a bollocking from the editor.

Soon enough, the day arrived and I dragged myself out of bed at 6 a.m.—a chore in itself as I’m not a morning person—got my things together and took a taxi to the train station. I had strict instructions on where I had to change trains, where I should go and who I should look for when arriving at my destination. Corporal Matt Stokes would be there waiting for me. Given he’d be in uniform, I wasn’t too worried about recognising him.

When I boarded the first train and got settled into my seat, I grabbed my bag and pulled out a magazine. After reading the same page three times and realising I still had no idea what it was about, I gave up. I allowed my mind to wander. Would Corporal Stokes be attractive? Would he be tall and slim; small and well-built? Aloof, cheeky; who knew? All I knew for sure was that there was a good chance I’d think he was sexy simply because of what he was wearing. In my opinion, the uniform screams masculinity and sex. It hides what is beneath, leaving that to your imagination, but gives the impression of the wearer being rough and ready—just how I like my men.

After a speedy change of trains, I relaxed and let my thoughts wander for some time, until I heard the announcement that my station was the next one. I got myself ready, checked I had all my stuff together and perched on the edge of my seat. I was also aware that my daydreams had left me feeling more than a little horny, and as a consequence, my underwear was damp. I smiled to myself. I hadn’t even set eyes on a squaddie yet and my mind was in the gutter. Heaven knows what I’d be like when I was surrounded by hard male bodies, and the smell of sweat and spunk.

Perhaps I’d become immune to the charm of the uniform after seeing it constantly for a couple of days? Only time would tell. Five minutes to be precise; which was the time it took for the train to pull in at the platform and for me to get off and look around for my lift. As I’d expected, he wasn’t difficult to spot. As soon as I laid eyes on the six foot plus frame of Corporal Stokes, I knew I would never get bored of that uniform as long as I lived. Especially on him.

*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller) and The Persecution of the Wolves. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 150 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. You can also subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

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© 2017 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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