Keziah Hill Talks About Writing in Two Genres and the Stories Waiting in the Wings

I’d like to welcome a special guest from wintery Downunder.  The fabulously versatile Keziah Hill not only writes erotica and crime but is also a keen gardener. Truly a woman after my own heart! Welcome to sunny (ish) England, Keziah! It’s a pleasure to have you on my site!

Thanks for having me on your blog KD.

While you’re probably reveling in the spring glory of the merry month of May, down here it’s autumn which also happens to be my favorite time of year. I live in a cool climate part of Australia, about 100ks west of Sydney in the Blue Mountains so as I write there is frost on the ground and it’s 2C. But the sun is out and it’s turning into a glorious day.

This morning, while snuggling into my warm bed, I started to concoct lists in my head about all the writing projects I have to finish. That got me into a mild panic and out of bed. The big one is my crime novel which I want to pitch to a couple of editors at the annual Romance Writers of Australia conference in August. I’ve been working on it for a couple of years and it’s nearly there. Giving myself a deadline will make me work harder!

Also on the list of things to finish are edits for a couple erotic novellas that I’ve just got the publishing rights back to, so they’ll be appearing on Amazon and other online book sellers soon.

But nagging away at the back of my mind are all the stories waiting in the wings. Characters who want their day in the sun and stories that keep revealing their twists and turns at strange moments (like at three o’clock in the morning). I have folders created on my computer with odd notes, paragraphs of dialogue and the beginning of character sketches of a whole range of stories.  I have to resist the siren call of a new story so I can finish what I’m working on.

It’s strange writing in two genres – erotica (including erotic romance) and crime. I thought I’d given up writing erotica and just wanted to concentrate on crime and suspense, but my muse (or whatever you want to call it) had other ideas. So after quite a break, I’m back writing steamy sex, which I’m thoroughly enjoying. I’d forgotten how freeing writing erotica is. It’s a larger than life genre full of possibilities.

My latest story, Chains of Revenge is in an alternate, semi-fantasy world containing a warrior who was once a sex slave and princess who once owned him. Their power struggle was a lot of fun to write. A sequel is one of the stories that keeps nagging at me. That, and a story about two cultures with different and conflicting moral codes about sex and how the hero and heroine negotiate their way through to their satisfying ending; and another story about a minister of religion and a sex shop owner. Mmm. There does seem to be a bit of a theme here.

A part from getting all these words on the page, my garden also calls to me, particularly at this time of year when roses need to be transplanted and trees pruned. But I’m very fortunate to have some gorgeous critters in my garden including this crimson rosella.

Here is an excerpt from Chains of Revenge.

Lissa, Princess of Horvald, waited for Death. She stood, still and silent in the dank chill of the Great Hall, determined to meet her fate without cowering in fear. But fear hovered, beating against her mind like moth wings, relentless and inescapable.

Her father, the King of Horvald was gone, swallowed up in the vicious cycle of victory and defeat. Now there was no protection for her, no way of avoiding the steady creep of defeat as it seeped through the walls and curled under the doors, like a foul, poisoned miasma.

He wanted her, this Warlord called Death.

He’d killed her father and now demanded she appear before him to beg for mercy.

But she would not beg. Nor would she come at his call, like a whipped dog. If that meant her life was forfeit, then so be it.

A crash in the outer hall momentarily pierced her defiance, sending a cold finger of terror up her spine. She had no illusions about how this Warlord would use then kill her, but couldn’t stop dark, skittering panic flood her body when she realized his touch, full of hatred and violence, would be the last touch from a man she would ever feel.

No sweet strokes or murmured endearments. So different to the last time she’d lain with a man, long ago now. Lissa closed her eyes and called up the image of brown, strong muscled arms and calloused hands that had held and soothed her, all the time whispering enchanting words of beauty and love. A yearning twisted deep inside her, making her gasp with pain. If only she could see him again, just one more time before she died.  She’d been such an empty headed fool all those years ago, thinking she was so powerful she could demand a slave to service her. That slave turned her life upside down and transformed her world. When disaster struck and her people needed her, because of him, she was ready to answer their call.

Ah, Devadas, my love. I’ll join you soon.

A piercing wail, suddenly cut off, ripped through the air. Death drew near. She glanced out the window and watched the distant wheat fields, the source of Horvald’s wealth, soon to be torched. Why hadn’t the burning commenced? All her work, gone. Would Devadas be pleased? Her slave in chains, the man she in the end, had loved with such hopeless desperation.

Another end loomed. Lissa heard more crashes and shouting, then the heavy thump of footsteps in the corridor. She continued to stand motionless in a shaft of late winter sun, and waited.

Not for long. The door slammed open and with it, the full realization of her father’s treachery.

No! Goddess above, no! All those wasted years!

Her past stood before her in mockery.

Tall, broad and forbidding, his body covered in leather and battered amour, Death stood in the doorway like the conqueror he was.

Chained no longer.

Chains of Revenge is available from Smashwords and Amazon.

About Keziah Hill

After quite a few years working in the criminal justice system, I decided a tree change was needed so decamped to the Blue Mountains, west of Sydney Australia. Amid a garden full of flowering blossoms, roses and the odd marauding possum, I write steamy love stories where my characters get their happily ever after or at least their happy for now. You can follow me on Facebook and on Twitter. I also have an occasional photographic blog (not mine – other people’s) at The View From Here. I’m a voracious reader as well as writer so you can also see what I read at Goodreads. Several of my short stories can be read at the Erotica Readers and Writers Association.




What Makes Us Fall in Love

It’s my pleasure to welcome Northern Bird, talented author, and all around fab person, Victoria Blisse, back to my site to to talk about her nasty, yummy, romantic novel, Naughty Rendezvous. I just have one question for you, Victoria, what makes us fall in love?

What Makes Us Fall in Love?

If I knew I’d be a millionaire from selling love potions to every unrequited lover in the world.  However I think I have an idea of what types of thing make us fall in love with a fictional character.

People love a good plot, they love things to happen but every fiction reader knows that they’re reading the events because they want to know what’s going to happen to certain characters they’ve been introduced to and really, really, really don’t want them to die.  So what makes a character compelling? I don’t suppose anyone can ever completely know because we all have differing opinions but I can think of a few essentials that can’t be argued about.

Emotion.   We don’t want to read about people who just wander through life and in erotica shag the odd person here and there. No, we want to read about people who feel. We want to see sorrow and heart ache, laughter and joy and love, most of all we want to relive the wonder of falling in love. Well, those of us who love romance and erotica do anyway.

Personality. I think the one thing that stops me from reading a book to the end more often than not is when the main man or woman is exciting and real as a cardboard cut-out. When you get the prince who is tall, dark and handsome but completely and utterly vapid.  Then there’s the princess who just moons about waiting to be rescued. You know the types I mean, their actions bore you because they’re born of cliché or simply to get to a particular sex act as quickly as possible.

A past.

Even in a very short story I want to know a bit about what happened to the character before the story even began. It’s one of those things that helps you to connect to what’s happening.  It’s also something that’s pretty difficult to do and you also don’t want too much of it either. You don’t necessarily need to know her pet name as a kid or his favourite kind of cake, you know, that chocolate one with the nuts that his mum used to make. It’s got to be relevant.

So there you go, three things I think are essential for falling in love with a character. Now I’m going to introduce you to a friend of mine who I fell head over heels for whilst I wrote out his story. His name is Joe Moore and he’s the star of Naughty Rendezvous which is FREE at Xcite books until the 31st May.

First title in the Rendezvous triolgy, part of Xcite Book’s Ultimate Curves Rubenesque Range.

Joe likes to tease and single mum Leanna loves it to. When they meet up for their first official date, the sparks fly but who’s going to crack first? Will Joe’s intimate questions and kiss and run tactics bring Leanna to her knees or will Leanna’s curves, flashed in moments of exhibition drive Joe to rip off all her clothes and indulge his urges?

How will she react to Joe’s domination and will she be turned on by his spankings? She’s going to be a naughty girl, so she’s bound to find out.

Here’s an excerpt for you so you can try him on for size –ooo er!

Sometimes our typing gets sexy. It just happens. We’ll be chatting about our day or a film we’ve watched or a book we’ve read or something like that and then suddenly we’ll be saying how much we long to rip the clothes from each other’s bodies. How we want to kiss long, hard, and without limit. He tells me he wants to taste me, smell my feminine musk up close, lick me there, at the core of my womanliness. I tell him how hungry I am for him. How I want to explore every last crevice, nook, and cranny of his body. I type with fervour, spelling mistakes flying left, right, and centre, until we reach the climax. Then we go back to chatting again, content and warm and snuggled up to each other even though there are a good few miles between us.

I look up from my chocolate and my reverie as the bell on the window-filled door tinkles. When I see an imposing male outline and realise it’s him, my body shudders a sigh of relief as my tummy tightens with the excitement.

The cold early winter air blows in with him and he swiftly shuts the door. Joe smiles over at Kathy, the café owner.

‘Usual, Joe?’ she asks.

‘Cheers,  Kathy,  you’re  a  star.’  His  deep  silken  tone  is tinged with that familiar accent of the American south, bringing a touch of the exotic to the Northern British mundaneness of a cosy café. A girlish smile cracks across the weathered face of the elderly matron; Joe’s charm has worked on her too. I am sure I am smiling in just the same way. Noticing me in the back corner, his slightly squiffy smile is aimed at me now and my body goes as liquid as the chocolate I sip.

He strides over. He moves between the chairs and tables effortlessly, his dark-grey overcoat swishing and swirling around his strong legs as he moves.

‘Oh darlin’, I am so sorry I’m late!’ He smiles at me as he sits down, his grey eyes full of apology and regret. ‘I do hate to keep you waiting!’

‘Ah, you’re worth it, Joe,’ I answer. ‘And besides, I do love Kathy’s hot chocolate.’

He looks down and notices I’m on my second cup. ‘Oh, you’ve been waiting ages. Now I feel awful.’ He moves his cold hand to my thigh and squeezes. ‘I’ll make it worth your while, Leanna.’

‘Mmm, I know you will.’ My voice is huskier than I expect, the effect of his hand upon me, no doubt. ‘So what are we going to do with my precious hours of freedom?’

‘Well, honey, it is your call but please be gentle with me. It’s been a long day.’ He takes a long swallow of his hot coffee and I watch his light-pink lips darken with the heat as he sips.

‘Well, this is going to sound like a come-on … ’ I chuckle as I meet his eye, my cheeks flaring and my heart thudding for fear of rejection ‘ … but why don’t you just go back to my place? We can watch a film, I can throw us together a meal and we can just chill out for a bit.’

‘That sounds perfect to me.’ Joe smiles. He knows what I am thinking. He knows and he agrees to it. My heart does a pentathlon of actions as I hear myself saying, ‘Cool.’

We sit and chat for a while. He asks about Lucy, I ask about his day. We talk about the football, the traffic, and the sudden coldness of this bright autumn day. Joe drains the last of his coffee. His cheeks are more of an even pink now, having lost the harsh, wind-whipped look. His lips are deep, fleshy pink and plump. I look at the bottom lip as it curves under the coffee cup and wonder what it would be like between my own lips, gripped gently between my teeth.

‘Come on then.’ I shake myself from my seedy fantasy and pull myself up straight in my chair. ‘Or we’ll end up sitting here all day.’

‘OK.’ Joe replies, giving me a hand as I slip into my dark-chocolate coat. I watch him button up his own as I pull on my gloves.

‘It’s not far,’ I say as he holds the café door open for me. ‘So you won’t be out in the cold too long.’

He smiles as I pass him and his hand rests gently on my bottom for a moment before it is moved again.

Oh, he is a tease.

If you want to read more from Joe then check out Naughty Rendezvous as it’s completely free for the rest of May. He’s a hot dominant male you’ll just not be able to get enough of and I’m trying hard to resist name dropping  Fifty Shades of Grey here but apparently I just failed miserably at that. So I’ll just say it. If you loved Christian Grey then you’ll be bowled over by Joe Moore and that’s a promise. It’s free to find out, so why not download yourself a copy right now?

Victoria’s Bio:

Victoria Blisse is a Mother, Wife, Christian, Manchester United Fan and Award Winning Erotica Authoress.

She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories.

Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.






Launch, Lust and Self-Love

Lots of Lakeland Heatwave News!

Body Temperature and Rising has been out in paperback and eBook in the UK since October and in eBook in the US as well, but tomorrow is the official print launch day of Body Temperature and Rising in the US! I love book launches! And I LOVE the chance to celebrate. I’m very pleased with the positive response BTR is getting, and the closer I get to the completion of all three novels in the Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy, the more excited I get.

In more Lakeland Heatwave news, Body Temperature and Rising is being discussed all this month over at Coffee Time Romance. I’ll be talking paranormal erotic romance, what makes it work and what makes it hot. I’ll also be sharing some juicy excerpts, talking about what inspired me to write it, talking about sex magic, sharing a few snap shots of the glorious English Lake District, where the story is set, and just generally chatting about witches, demons, ghosts and all things paranormal and sexy. Do stop by and chat. Leave a comment for a chance to win your choice of either of my novels, The Initiation of Ms Holly, or The Pet Shop.

Even MORE Lakeland Heatwave News

I’m very excited to announce that I’ve just finished the first draft of book three of the Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy, Elemental Fire. You may have remembered that I had just finished the first draft of book two, Riding the Ether, in February. I decided to write the last two books back to back so I could get the best overall view of the powerful events that lead to the grand finale. Plus, I had less chance of suffering from empty nest syndrome that way. I have to admit there were a few twist and turns that even I didn’t expect, and I can hardly wait to make all three novels available to my readers! Riding the Ether will be published in October, and there’ll be much partying and dancing in the streets.


Last month I was all excited about the release of my two new novellas, Surrogates, published with Harper Collin’s new erotica eBook imprint, Mischief, and Migrations,  which included in the brand new Xcite Books line of anthologies, The Secret Library, in the Traded Innocence anthology. I’m happy to announce that both are doing well and enjoying good press. I’m doing my best to have as many of the authors from the new Secret Library line as guest on my blog as possible, so please check in to see what hot, romantic offerings are deliciously hidden inside those very elegant velvet covers. I’ll also have some exciting guest authors stopping by from the new Mischief line as well, so do make sure to check out A Hopeful Romantic for all the latest heat.

Garden Porn

Any of you who have read much of my work know that I’ve got a reputation for writing garden porn. Surrogates is a very hot romp through the veg patch, and some pretty stunning formal gardens as well. My short story, Vegging is packed full of veggie naughtiness, and my story, Allotted Views is a voyeuristic romp through the allotments.  I’ve always found working in the veg patch inspiring, and it has just got a whole lot more inspiring for me, as my husband and I just got an allotment after three long years on the waiting list. I think our patch alone is big enough to feed half of Surrey. And that means, of course, LOTS more inspiration for writing hot garden porn.

The Merry Month of May…er National Masturbation Month!

Okay, how could I possibly NOT end this little update with a happy, touchy-feely mention of National Masturbation Month? The celebration of May as National Masturbation Month started in 1995 in San Francisco as a response to the forced resignation of then U.S. Surgeon General Joycelyn Elders, for remarks she made that masturbation should be taught as a healthy part of human sexuality.

The comment ended Elders’ career. National Masturbation Month came about as an act of protest against Elders’ ouster and a celebration of the safest sex of all. I’m definitely planning to do my part to celebrate in solidarity! And I intend to start by giving you a few very hot excerpts of the self-loving kind throughout the rest of the month – my contribution to the celebration of solo-sex. I hope you find them inspiringJ

Since all the latest news is Lakeland Heatwave, I’m going to start the self-love lit with a hands-on scene from Body Temperature and Rising. Enjoy!


(in which much naughtiness ensues. Not for the delicate of disposition)

Marie woke to the awareness of a man sitting on the bed next to her, a man who, from the looks of his clothing, must have been at the same costume party as Anderson. His fly was open and he was stroking a substantial hard-on. Instead of being frightened, as would have been the normal response to a stranger rubbing one off on her bed, she simply admired his pale hair and the way his large hand moved over heavy equipment. She liked it when she conjured sexy men to visit her in her dream world. Better yet she had conjured one obviously ready to play.

She watched through half closed eyes as he shoved his trousers open further and worried distended balls free from the press of his underpants. With one hand, he caressed the length of his cock, with the other he cupped himself and stroked with his thumb.

‘I heard them talking about you.’ The man said. ‘They didn’t say how strong you are.’ He groaned out loud and shifted to slide his trousers down so that his pale ass settled onto the duvet, allowing easier access to himself. ‘Even if they had, I would not have believed them.’ His voice was a harsh whispered. ‘I long to know what you look like beneath the duvet, beneath the nightdress. Please let me look at you.’

So far this dream was shaping up well. She was happy to play I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours. Strangely Dream Guy sounded like he’d studied the same romantics Anderson had. Who’d have thought antiquated poet-speak could be so damned hot? She eased herself into a sitting position against the head board and pushed back the bedding. The night shirt lay high against her thighs, barely covering her cunt.

She was amazed at how well she could see in the moonlight drifting through her window. She could see the shape of him, the anxious rise and fall of his chest, the parting of his lips. She could feel his gaze on the hem of her night shirt. She scrunched and raked at it until her hand rested against her pubic mound obscuring his view, and he groaned his frustration. Slowly, carefully she raised her bottom and shifted until the night shirt was out of the way and her bare buttocks pressed against the smooth cotton of the sheet.

His gaze on her felt almost physical, as though with his eyes alone he could gently nudge her open. ‘Please let me see,’ he whispered.

She had played the voyeur with Anderson and Tara earlier. Now it felt wonderfully wicked to play the exhibitionist, as she shifted her ass again and slowly, teasingly opened her thighs, still nestling her hand in her curls, stroking and caressing, making herself wait until that magical moment when her fingers first slipped between the swell of her lips.

‘I can smell you,’ he said. ‘The scent of your sex is intoxicating, please, please let me look at you.’

This time, she moved her fingers down over the hard rise of her clitoris and in between the pout of her lips, her breath catching, her hips jerking with that first electrical touch. Then she spread her labia as wide as she could manage with two fingers and opened her legs still further until she was certain Dream Guy could see every detail of her dilating pussy, every fold of her slippery landscape.

He gasped at the sight, and she could see his balls tighten and jerk with the intake of breath. He shifted a fisted hand down the length of his penis, lingering for his thumb to caress and circle the head, its slit opening and closing with each stroke. She could feel the gentle rocking of the mattress and wasn’t sure if it was from her dream lover, who was now grinding his ass against the bed with each stroke, or if it was from her own bearing down.

‘Touch yourself for me,’ the man said. ‘I want to watch you pleasure your lovely womanhood.’

There was a strange man sitting on the foot of her bed watching her masturbate. The very thought made her juices run thick and hot.


Wishing you all a very merry, touchy-feely month of May! And here’s a lucious link to The Center for the Intimate Arts and some fab visual stimulation.


Lucy Felthouse Tells the Story Behind Off The Shelf

I’ve had the pleasure of watching this nasty author grow from someone who trembled at the thought of a story of 10K to someone who tackles a novella with gusto and … er … well nastiness. Lucy Felthouse is not only one of my favourite guest authors on this site, but she’s one of my favourite people, full-stop, and a woman of MANY talents. Her fab novella, Off the Shelf,  is in Xcite Book’s new Secret Library series. Please welcome the fabulous Lucy Felthouse to tell as about her super-heated novella, Off the Shelf, from The Secret Library anthology, Silk Stockings. Welcome back, Lucy!

Off the Shelf is my first novella, and as such holds a special place in my heart. It came about when one of the editors from Xcite Books asked if I’d be interested in writing something for a new range of books they were releasing, called The Secret Library. After reading the brief, I decided I was definitely interested, and was determined not to let the required word count put me off. I said yes, then immediately panicked. What was I going to write about? What if the story didn’t have enough backbone to meet the minimum word count? What if my story was boring? What if they hated it?

Thankfully, none of my fears were realised. After thinking about what my story was going to be about, my Muse finally came through for me. In fact, it was the hero of the piece that came into my head first, and when I thought about what his background was, where he worked, and so on, the rest of the story fell into place.

Damien isn’t your typical romance hero. He has long curly hair, glasses, is slim (though certainly not scrawny), and he works in a bookshop. That’s kind of where the idea started for me – I wanted a cute, intelligent guy who worked in a bookshop as a hero. Then, to make it a little different, I decided that he would work in an airport bookshop. From there, other snippets started coming to me. If he was working in an airport, he’d have the potential to meet lots of different people from varying walks of life. So who would wow him?

Enter Annalise. She’s a travel writer and the airport Damien works in is the one she uses when she’s flying somewhere on assignment. She’s been single for a while, and although she hates it, she struggles to meet men because her job is so demanding, and the ones she does meet may be suitable for naughty encounters, but certainly not for anything long term. Annalise wants someone that shares her interests and passions, and who is intelligent. So when she meets Damien, it looks as though her love life is on the up.

The trouble is, Damien is shy, and Annalise is terrified of rejection. And then there’s the fact that Annalise is busy jetting off all over the world. There are plenty of obstacles in their way, but can the pair overcome them and take a chance on what could be a meaningful relationship? There’s only one way to find out… 😉

Once I had the outline to this story drafted out, I loved writing it. I adore both main characters (and I admit, I fancy the pants off Damien) and it was great to get words down and explore their story. There were a couple of occasions where the pair of them deviated from the plan, but I figured it was their story and I should just let them get on with it. And, I’m pleased to say, I’m delighted with the end result. It was a huge learning curve for me in terms of length, as I’m so used to writing short stories, but by the time I got to the end I was relieved to finish, but also delighted with my achievement. This probably sounds crazy to accomplished novelists (such as the lovely lady hosting this very guest blog post) but the whole experience has boosted my confidence in writing longer stories, and I’ll definitely be doing more of it in the not-too-distant future.

And now, since I’ve waffled on enough, I’ll share some of the opening scene of Off the Shelf and hope you’re intrigued enough to add the book to your to be read list, or even place an order for the paperback or eBook edition!

Happy reading!


Pushing the ‘on’ button, Annalise moved the vibrator down between her parted legs and eased it inside her eager pussy. As the ears of the Rampant Rabbit slid into position on her clit, she groaned with pleasure and rolled her hips, desperate to get more delicious friction. Then she pressed another button on the toy’s control panel to ramp up the power another notch. As much as she’d prefer a slower build-up to her orgasm, she just didn’t have the time. She had to leave for the airport in a couple of hours, and she hadn’t even packed her case. A quick knee-trembler would have to suffice.

As the vibrator buzzed away between her thighs, Annalise closed her eyes and tried to empty her mind of anything but the pleasure she was experiencing. After a brief flirtation with the thought that she’d much prefer a hot man between her legs bringing her to orgasm, Annalise simply enjoyed the feeling of her impending climax. The busily-vibrating bunny ears pressed tightly against her sensitive flesh soon had her pussy fluttering. Then, without warning, Annalise was quickly yanked onto her pleasure plateau and immediately pushed off, leaving her writhing and shouting on the bed as a powerful orgasm overtook her body.

Annalise arched her back as waves of pleasure crashed over her, and her cunt clenched and grabbed at the toy buried deep inside. Her swollen clit throbbed, quickly becoming too sensitive for the unrelenting stimulation from the vibrator. Switching it off and pulling out, Annalise dropped the toy onto the mattress by her side and gave a satisfied moan as she rode out the remainder of her climax. Finally, when the twitches and spasms had abated and her heart rate and breathing were almost back to normal, Annalise grabbed the Rabbit and rolled across to the side of her bed where the toy box was kept. She made short but thorough work of cleaning it, then reluctantly put it in its case, popped it into the small bedside cupboard and shut the door.

Annalise hated leaving her favourite toy behind when she went away, but she just wasn’t brave enough to take it with her. She usually only took carry-on luggage, and the very thought of the distinctive shape of the Rampant Rabbit popping up on the screen of the airport scanners made her shudder. It would be bad enough for the staff to see it on their monitors, knowing what it was and giving her knowing looks; imagine what would happen if they decided to check inside her bags! She would want to curl up and die of embarrassment, she just knew it.

No, it was much better off staying here. She could make do with her right hand for a few days. Even better, she might even meet someone. Annalise smiled. She’d had some pretty steamy encounters on her travels. The desk clerk in Dubai, the gym manager in Turkey, the waiter in Corfu…

Annalise shook herself. This wasn’t the time to let her mind wander down that path and get herself all worked up. She had to go and get ready now. There’d be plenty of time for daydreaming later, when she was in long and boring queues, and on the flight.


At 35, travel writer Annalise is fed up with insensitive comments about being left on the shelf. It’s not as if she doesn’t want a man, but her busy career doesn’t leave her much time for relationships. Sexy liaisons with passing acquaintances give Annalise physical satisfaction, but she needs more than that. She wants a man who will satisfy her mind as well as her body. But where will she find someone like that? It seems Annalise may be in luck when a new member of staff starts working in the bookshop at the airport she regularly travels through. Damien appears to tick all the boxes; he’s gorgeous, funny and intelligent, and he shares Annalise’s love of books and travel. The trouble is, Damien’s shy and Annalise is terrified of rejection. Can they overcome their fears and admit their feelings, or are they doomed to remain on the shelf?

More info and buy links:

Lucy is a graduate of the University of Derby, where she studied Creative Writing. During her first year, she was dared to write an erotic story – so she did. It went down a storm and she’s never looked back. Lucy has had stories published by Cleis Press, Constable and Robinson, House of Erotica, Noble Romance, Ravenous Romance, Resplendence Publishing, Summerhouse Publishing, Sweetmeats Press and Xcite Books. She is also the editor of Uniform Behaviour and Seducing the Myth. Find out more at Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at:


New Release: Lapiz Lazuli — The Leigh Clark Collection

From fetishistic and rough, to sapphic or sweet, this anthology of eight hand-picked dirty stories spans the whole erotica range.

If stories of frantic, sensual lovemaking excite you, Lapiz Lazuli is guaranteed to grab your attention. These short stories explore the sensual delights of sex; whether it is a quick romp in a hallway, the caress of a razorblade, the helpless sensation of rough sex or a furtive public holiday experience, arousing accounts and unabashed tales of kinky sex await! Available from:

Lapiz Lazuli

The day’s first customers were a pair of forty-something women, sisters from the look of them, one heading for the airport after a visit—you can always tell out-of-towners by their clothes. I was still pinning on my ‘Caroline’ badge when they walked in. Nobody calls me Caroline but it’s company policy to have full names on badges—I’m Carrie to my friends, I made their skinny macchiatos and half-listened in to them as I continued setting the counter up for the commuter rush.

“It was lovely to see you,” said the one with the city clothes. “But it will be nice to have the place to ourselves again.”

Out-of-town sister scowled. “I didn’t realise I was such a bad guest.”

“Honey, you’re not. But tonight, me and Tom … well, we want our privacy.” Town-sister played with a chunky lapis lazuli and silver ring on a chain around her neck. She looked good for her age, and happy with it.

Out-of-town smiled. “After six years, are you two still romping?”

“Six years last month and still spending as much time in bed as out of it. Look what he gave me for our anniversary.” Town sister held out the ring.

“Very … pretty.”

I could tell out-of-town was as unimpressed as me. Cheap gift or what?

“The chain’s platinum,” said townie, looking smug. “But the ring … now that’s the best gift I’ve ever had.”

She so wanted her sister to ask why, and I so wanted to hear the answer, that I nearly asked her myself.

“Why?” said out-of-town.

“Well …” town-girl leaned over the table and I had to strain my ears to hear. “I wouldn’t tell anybody else this, but I’ve always told you everything … I like a little pain with my pleasure. Know what I mean?”

Out-of-town looked puzzled, but I knew what she meant, did I ever!

“You know!” Town-sister blushed. “A little slap, a little bite, something to push you over the edge into …” She put her hand on her chest, fingers splayed, and threw her head back, panting. It was a pretty good impression of orgasm I’ll admit – very When Harry Met Sally. Now her sister blushed and laughed.

Town sister continued, “Well Tom doesn’t like to hurt me, but he sure likes to make me happy, that kind of happy. So this ring, see, with all its bumps and lumps? Well when I wear it around my neck, Tom knows that the same evening I’m going to slide it onto his finger and he’s going to press it against my …” she paused and lowered her voice even more. “… my love button, when we make love.”

Love button! It was all I could do not to laugh out loud. Did people still talk like that? But I looked at that ring, with its deep blue knobbly surface and imagined how cold it must be, and how hard, and my knees became so weak I had to hang on to the counter.

The sisters left, chatting and laughing, and the morning coffee addicts began to roll in, but I didn’t forget what I’d heard.

That weekend I took Doug shopping at the Flea Market.

“What are we doing here, Carrie?” he asked, looking at the stalls. But I’d already seen what I wanted on a table laden with semi-precious stones and costume jewellery. A big ring, with a greeny-grey, nubby, softly-contoured stone that the seller told me was moss agate. It fit Doug’s middle finger perfectly.


© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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