Guest Blogger: Shiloh Saddler

WMS_blogtourI can’t believe my first book was released November 5th. Decadent Publishing has made my dream come true. I’ve been a closet GLBT writer for a long time. I have many partial romance stories stowed away on my hard drive. Could I ever finish one? Could I ever publish one? I didn’t think so until my writing partner challenged me. Thankfully she did because that was how The Virgin Madam came to be. I have a history degree, so when I began writing romance I naturally gravitated toward the historical genre. I was disappointed to see there were very few F/F historicals available. So I decided it was time for me to write my own.

I grew up watching westerns my favorite being Gunsmoke. Maybe that was why the first F/F idea I got involved a cowgirl and a madam. Laura and Josephine both came to me as fully formed characters. Laura inherits a brothel after her Papa is murdered. She thought she’d be trapped in Bitterroot Flats and lonely for the rest of her life until the tomboy Josephine struts into her life and wants to make her fantasies come true.

To learn a little more about Laura and her fantasies here is an excerpt.

cancanExcerpt:

Time for the can-can show. My heart palpitated in anticipation. Shamelessly I watched the four women file on stage in their long matching red skirts and black stockings. A red feather in their hair.

Mr. Woodson finished the intro music. I gave him a small smile and nod before returning my attention to the women. I let out a quiet sigh. They were all beauties. When I was younger I cried myself to sleep wishing I had their figure; now full grown, I had given up on that dream. I wasn’t tall and leggy like Lulu. I wasn’t as curvy as Rose. I didn’t have Amanda’s fiery red hair or Delilah’s flawless complexion. I was just average.

The black silk chokers around their necks helped draw attention to their faces and lower to their breasts. The ladies grabbed their skirts and walked to the edge of the stage, swishing their skirts suggestively and showing off their white bloomers. Many men let out cheers or said lewd comments. Ash rushed in and grabbed a seat. He leaned back in his chair put two fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle. Like me, he caught as many performances as he could. The bastard had become a regular fixture in Bitterroot Flats, easily partaking in the entitlements. Including murder. He must have had a past with Fletcher. Done jobs together, maybe even served time together.

I had to put up with him. But I didn’t have to pretend to like him. I seared his back with a fiery stare, hoping he could feel my anger.

I wish I never had to see Ash again. I wish I had the power to ban him from the Honey Ranch. The power to keep him from Amanda would be some satisfaction, but the Fletcher Gang owned the town. Ash could do whatever he damn pleased and I was powerless to stop him.

Ash wasn’t going to spoil the show for me. I focused on the women, their every seductive move. The dancers turned around in place before prancing around the stage in a small circle, flashing the gentlemen big smiles. Their faces, heavily painted with rouge and lip paint, glowed under the stage’s lighting. A thrill zipped through me when they formed a line again and started their high kicks. Some of the men clapped, keeping time with the music. Others tapped their empty beer glasses on the tables. The rowdy atmosphere didn’t bother me anymore. The scent of beer and whiskey wafted through the air, mixing with the smell of sweat, horses, and the honeysuckle perfume the ladies wore. I easily tuned out the men, my attention narrowing to the women working the stage as if their lives depended on it. How they managed to dance so well in those high-heeled black boots I’d never know. They helped show off their legs, though. And I could drool over all those legs. Heat and desire burning in my belly, I hoped no one could read my dirty thoughts.

 

The Virgin MadamBlurb:

After a vicious outlaw murders her father, Laura Rutherford sees no future beyond running the family brothel and kowtowing to the local gang. Not even marriage offers escape. No man can compete with the beautiful women who dance the can-can for her each night…at least not until a gentle stranger sweeps in and opens her eyes to desires too long denied.

Joe Bascum stumbles into Bitterroot Flats looking for a place to hide from a gunman out for blood. When the innocent Madame from the local brothel offers a bed and bath, Joe accepts hoping to show the buttoned-up beauty just how right forbidden desire can feel.

When danger escalates, can Laura help Joe defeat the famous Fletcher gang, or is she destined to live a lonely life as the virgin madam?

Buy Links:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks
Decadent Publishing

Author Bio:

Shiloh Saddler likes to do research for her steamy romances first hand. She has invented a time machine and travels back to the 19th century on a regular basis. There are experimental settings on her time machine which could propel her into the future and even other worlds. She believes love and a good book makes anything possible.

Social Media Links:

History in the Hot Lane Blog: http://shilohsaddler.blogspot.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ShilohSaddler

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/shiloh.saddler?fref=ts

What’s in a Name? Sommer Marsden is Foiled Again with Restricted Release

It’s always a pleasure to have Sommer Marsden over at mine. Today she’s talking about her latest novel, Restricted Release and name problems. Welcome, Sommer!

Restricted ReleaseI would like to go on the official erotica record and say that I wrote Restricted Release two summers ago (almost typed sommers, no lie). Two summers ago The Doctor’s companions were Amy Pond and Rory. Just saying…

Why am I just saying? Because Clara, my Clara in RR, is not based on the Impossible Girl.

I said to my kids when Clara arrived, “You just know people are going to say I got my Clara’s name from Doctor Who.” [frownie face]

Non-Whovians are currently sitting here wondering what the hell I’m talking about.

I will barrel on nonetheless.

I wrote Restricted Release over the summer, and my original plans for it were to publish it in print only as a December Ink title. I had my own crazy reasons, I won’t go into them. But I wanted to choose a name for my heroine that was a bit old fashioned. Clara won. Mostly because I knew a Miss Clara growing up and hadn’t heard the name in ages.

Hmph.

Until Doctor Who found her, that is.

Now this happened to me with the name Bella. I used it in a story and tada! Suddenly, Bella Bella everywhere. Twilightapalooza and the name is ruined for us all.

Fortunately, Clara is not nearly as famous as Bella, but still. Can you believe that luck? So I just wanted to say that on the record. I had it first. I have another book with an old fashioned-y kind of name in it. I’m crossing my fingers and wishing upon a star that I won’t see it in anything else, but seriously, not holding my breath. It wouldn’t work anyway.

XOXO

Sommer

Blurb:

Clara is the recovering anorexic who’s nearly become a shut-in after the end of her emotionally abusive marriage. Matt is the new boy next door. Graphic artist, nice guy, funny…accepting of Clara.  She wants him, he wants her—but Clara is afraid.

Nadia is the stand-in—Matt’s idea, Clara’s challenge to accept. A longtime friend of Matt’s, she’s a sexual surrogate intended to guide Clara until she’s not afraid of Matt’s desire for her or hers for him. Twosomes become threesomes, watching becomes touching and lust becomes love.

When Matt moved in next door, lust was the last thing Clara expected. Two lovers never crossed her mind. And the need to make a choice was something she thought she’d never encounter. But she’s bolder now, healing, and everything has changed. And a choice must be made, no matter how hard.

An Excerpt From: RESTRICTED RELEASE:

We sat in the center of his box-cluttered living room floor on a large blanket. Around us was scattered some leftover takeout, cheese, crackers, a box of lemon cookies, mixed nuts, olives, pickles and a bottle of wine.

“This should be disgusting,” he said, eating a pickle with a piece of cheese on a cracker.

“But it‘s so, so good,” I said, eating my own cracker with cheese. I ate it in small nibbles because my stomach was electric.

“Really?” He cocked his head. “Because you barely seem to be eating.” He touched my leg with his bare foot. He was warm.

“I‘m eating.” I pulled the sweatshirt he‘d draped over me close to my body. Besides his sweatshirt, I wore my white slouchy socks and we‘d located my panties.

He held out a box of cookies. “I’m good,” I said.

Matt studied me. “I‘m not as dumb as I look, you know.”

I ate the rest of my cracker and took a sip of wine. It was nice. It had that whiskey aftertaste I usually hate and yet I didn‘t this time. There was enough of a fruity burst in it to temper the oak. “I don‘t think you look dumb at all. I think you look really smart,” I said.

I hoped he didn‘t hear the mixture of annoyance and anxiety in my voice. I wanted to get past the food thing.

No chance.

“So tell me, mysterious neighbor. Why do you seem to be a person who sticks very close to home? Why do you seem so…gun-shy? Is that a good description?”

I tried to nod but my head barely moved.

“I know why I‘ve been a monkish man for almost a year. Why have you been Sister Clara Barrett?”

I cleared my throat. “I don‘t know.”

He cocked his head and then cut his eyes away. He tried to make it look nonchalant, but I knew what he was doing. He was giving me a moment to consider the situation.

“Really?”

“I…”

Matt held up a hand, looking me right in the eye so I felt totally naked. For a crazy moment I felt as if there were no barriers between what was inside of me and what was inside of him. He said, “You were bold enough this morning to straight up tell me you wanted to have sex with me.”

I opened my mouth but he kept that silencing hand up and I shut my mouth with an audible snap. His fingers slipped beneath my sock, circled my ankle and he said very softly, “Please let me finish before you throw up your security fences and barriers.”

My throat was tight. I nodded.

“You were bold enough to watch me in my bathroom. When I probably could have spotted you at any time, and I sorta kind of did at the end there. And…” He squeezed my ankle and the pressure went right to my pussy. “You were bold enough to come over here on a…” He chuckled. “Booty call.”

I made a small noise of protest but then laughed. Our laughter mingled and I felt a rightness I couldn‘t remember feeling. It scared the shit out of me.

“But you won‘t tell me what your history is, Clara?” He didn‘t say it to belittle me. I could tell he wasn‘t angry. It was simply a question to help him understand. And that made me tell him.

I finished my wine in three big gulps and leaned back on my hands, keeping my legs in crisscross-applesauce fashion.

“I was married.” I picked at a loose thread on my sock and then looked at him. His eyes were amazing. Gorgeous and kind and deep—if they were the windows to Matt Millen’s soul, his soul was a wonder of the Universe.

“I‘m going to say this in one big breath and get it over with, okay?” I said, feeling my eyes sting a little. I willed myself not to cry. I could not cry. That would be stupid. That bad part of my life was over. I needed to move past it.

“Okay,” Matt said. His hand stayed around my ankle, loose but comforting. He wasn‘t eating or drinking, but he wasn‘t poking or prodding either. He was waiting. Listening. Paying attention.

“I was married to a man who wasn‘t…nice.” I shrugged but it felt like I was being blasé about something that was anything but. So I stilled my body and went on, willing myself to be strong. “He didn’t beat me or anything. But he carved me up emotionally. My sister Cat once said it would have been better if he had beaten me.” My voice had gotten small. My stomach hurt.

His eyes flashed with anger but he kept his face schooled. “And why is that?”

I blew out a shuddery breath and whispered. “She said that if he‘d left bruises on me—broke bones—I‘d have known that it was wrong. But as it stood, he got inside my head and…” I tapped my temple. “Fucked with me. He played on my biggest fears and weaknesses to control me. It‘s like in those books where you read about demons and possession and Hell,” I laughed. “He infiltrated my brain and he trapped me with my own fear.”

Matt sighed and popped an olive in his mouth. “I‘m going to go out on a limb here, slim lady, and say one of your issues is food and body image?”

My cheeks heated and I nodded, saying nothing at all. I had to fight the urge to cover myself with his sweatshirt. To pull it down over my knees and hide myself in it. It was a war I still waged most days, even thought I was alone about 80 percent of the time.

He watched me. He was waiting.

*****

Inside scoop: Clara’s healing includes a hot woman who wants to show her how desirable she is, as well as f/m/f menagés.

Restricted Release Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks
Ellora’s Cave

*****

About Sommer Marsden

Sommer Marsden’s been called “…one of the top storytellers in the erotica genre” (Violet Blue), “Unapologetic” (Alison Tyler), “…the whirling dervish of erotica” (Craig J. Sorensen),and “Erotica royalty…” (Lucy Felthouse).

Her erotic novels include Restricted Release, Restless Spirit, Boys Next Door, and Learning to Drown. Sommer currently writes erotica and erotic romance for Xcite Books, eXcessica, Ellora’s Cave, Pretty Things Press, Resplendence Publishing and Mischief Books. The wine-swigging, dachshund-owning, wannabe runner author writes work that runs the gamut from bondage to zombies to humor.

Sommer’s short works can be found in well over one hundred (and counting) erotic anthologies. Her short stories have also been included numerous adult and romance magazines–both in print and online. Visit her at Unapologetic Fiction http://sommermarsden.blogspot.com

And Now a Peek at Bring on the Heat! Sexy Cover, Sexy Anthology

BringOnTheHeatBring On the Heat

I so can’t wait for this one! The cover is sizzling hot, but then what would you expect when you take a look at all the fabulous authors who put the heat in the collection! Definitely put January 6th on your calendar and start 2014 with a heatwave! For more details check out the Bring on the Heat FaceBook page.

A scorching collection from ten of today’s hottest authors

Title: Bring On the Heat

Genre: Erotic romance

Length: Approx 263k words

Release date: January 6, 2014

FB page: https://www.facebook.com/BringOnTheHeat

 

Boxed Set:

Eden Bradley: Breaking Skye

Cassandra Carr: Caught

Stephanie Julian: An Indecent Proposition Part I

Amber Kallyn: Burned

Keira Kohl: Laundry day

Adriana Kraft: Cherry Tune-Up

Emma Lai: Riding Romeo

Anh Leod: Clockwork Captive

Ann Mayburn: First Kiss

Cari Quinn: Jingle Ball

Bring on the heat 2

Cover Love by Victoria Blisse

I write, I love to write and I’m always excited when I have a finished and fully edited story all ready to go. But one of the most exciting moments for me, and I suspect any author, is getting the cover art.

I’ve had some stinkers, I must admit but more often than not I’m pleasantly surprised by what the cover fairy brings me.  With my Sharing Nicely cover it was love at first sight. I mean, look at it:

Sharing Nicely

This is, in my opinion, pretty damn perfect, she’s pretty and very like I imagine my heroine to look and that mask is amazingly sparkly and gorgeous and it sits beautifully in amongst the words on the page. I adore this cover. I promise though, the story inside is worth a read too, once you’ve had your fill of the lovely cover!

*****

Excerpt:

“So, are you two ready?” he asked. “I’ll get Chester to bring the limo round.”

“We can go in mine,” Darren snapped.

“Oh, don’t start this again.” I shook my head. “Decide nicely or I’ll be getting the damn Tube home.”

If the billionaires could be so abrupt with me, I’d be snappy with them.

“Fine,” Darren shrugged, “but we’re going back to my hotel.”

“Where are you staying?”

While the boys argued amongst themselves I took the date book and locked it away in my desk. I’d filled up a lot of the year and some dates had drifted into the next one. With the business I’d secured I was guaranteed to finish the fiscal year pleasantly in profit. I might even be able to afford a holiday. If I could persuade myself to stay away from Diamonds long enough.

When I walked back over to them the boys were silent.

“So, are we actually ready now?”

Greg reacted first, slipping his arm into mine and smiling.

“Yes, it seems me and Darren are staying at the same hotel.”

“Wonderful,” I smiled, intensely relieved. “Lead the way.”

Darren took hold of my other arm and we strode out together. I wasn’t expecting the barrage of flashing lights and yelled questions that greeted us. I supposed I had been a little naïve. The boys, with the aid of some huge security guards, pushed past the demands and we scooted into the back of a shiny black limousine. The mellow scent of leather filled the interior. Everything sparkled. I felt like we were in a separate car to the driver who was way, way down at the front.

“Are we going to the hotel, sir?” a polite voice asked. It sounded like it came from behind me, which was puzzling until I realised there was some kind of intercom device. Greg reached to the side of the limo and pressed a button.

“Yes, please, Chester.”

I would have liked more space to actually enjoy the ride home but I was crowded by two competing men and so spent my time flipping my gaze from one to the other, answering questions. Both were squeezed up close to me and both seemed determined to seduce me. I found that mind-spinningly crazy.

“What perfume are you wearing?” Darren ducked his head to sniff at my neck. I was very aware of his lips hovering just above my pulse point. I wished he’d kiss me there.

“Oh, I don’t know. Something fruity.” My mind went completely blank.

“You smell good enough to eat.” Darren continued and his lips did touch my skin but only for the briefest second. My whole body tightened at the gentle kiss.

“Your dress is beautiful.” It seemed Greg was not to be outdone—in fact he boldly ran his hand down my body from my shoulder, over my breast and lower. “I love the feel of velvet.”

“Thank you,” I squeaked then cleared my throat. “Thanks, I love velvet too.”

Tension zinged through me, sexual and otherwise. These two guys who I’d only just met were making me into a battlefield. They were warring to control me.

I wasn’t a woman who enjoyed being mollycoddled. I took decisions, I dived into situations and I expected all of my staff to be respectful to both men and women. I’d reprimanded several for sexism and would go as far as to sack someone if they didn’t change their ways. I should have been appalled by the situation—I wasn’t just a trophy or a business contract. I should have kicked up a fuss and left then and there.

But I didn’t. I liked being the centre of attention. I liked being the prize they both wanted.

I waited for the next move but we pulled up outside the hotel so I had to wait until we exited the car. Again, both men linked arms with me. It was cold outside but apart from the cool breeze on my cheeks I barely felt it because their hard bodies protected me from the elements.

They whisked me across the marble frontage, past the liveried doorman and into a huge reception area. It glittered with prestige and marble. Everything was perfect, neat and tidy. There was nothing overly ornate or showy but you could tell by the purposeful minimalism that this was a very classy place. The kind of place I’d only ever imagined visiting.

We moved across the hall into the bar. Again it was big, shiny but understated. The bar was long and all the staff behind it were in immaculately cut uniforms. They all looked smart and tidy and I looked on with envy. I wished I could get my own staff to look so impressive.

“What would you like to drink?” Darren asked and smirked at Greg.

“I’d love a glass of water, really,” I replied, “I’m so thirsty.”

“I’ll get them to send over some water too, but should we have some champagne? It was a very good night for us all after all.”

Both Darren and Greg had won awards and I was sure they’d both made several deals too as they played the room.

“Yes, why not?” Greg answered before me. “Champagne sounds good.”

When Darren moved away Greg turned to me.

“Look, Kerry, I really would love to spend the night with you but it is killing me to be nice to him.”

“This is you being nice?”

“Exactly.” He almost smiled. I found it surprisingly endearing. “Please can we dump the other guy?”

“No.” I was very firm, it surprised even me. “No, I said I wanted to spend time with you both, so that is what’s going to happen. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

“God, woman. You’re infuriatingly stubborn.” He growled.

“Now that is a case of the pot calling the kettle black.” I laughed.

Greg sighed. “I’m not used to being told what to do, Kerry. I’m the one in control.”

“I’d noticed, but if you want me, you play by my rules.” It was fun playing him at his own game.

“Oh, I want you.” His growl turned to a gravelly purr. It wasn’t cute, it was the noise of a killer beast merely at rest. Any moment he could pounce and rip me apart. It turned me on. I wriggled in my seat and my damp knickers chafed against my plump lips.

“Then you’ll share nicely.” I leaned in and kissed him. He was shocked, almost as much as I was. His lips were hard and ungiving for a moment—I thought maybe I’d pushed him too far—but then they melted, opened and pushed back and I felt his pent-up arousal running into me. I released my frustrated desire with every move of my lips.

We pulled apart and I had to pant to regain my breath while he licked his lips like he was savouring the taste.

“I’ll do it for you,” he said. I was intoxicated with the power of having him under my control.

“Hey, I want one too.” Darren came back, placed a glass of water before me and pressed his lips to mine. His were plump and giving. He prodded his tongue between my lips, into my mouth, taking control of the kiss and control of me. I felt like I might explode into a million pieces. I hadn’t been kissed in months and now I’d had two smoking hot smooches in as many minutes from two very hot but very different men.

“Okay,” I gasped when he pulled away, “now you’re even.”

The guys glowered at each other. I looked around the room to calm my nerves. Not a single person looked at us. Obviously such things happened often in bars of high-class hotels. It didn’t happen often to me. At all, in fact. I wondered if I was dreaming. I pinched my thigh below the table. It hurt. I definitely wasn’t dreaming.

A tall, skinny waiter brought us a bottle of champagne stood in a silver ice bucket. Balanced on his tray were three tall flutes. He transferred everything to our table with great pomp. I was in awe of his skill.

“Thank you,” I called. He nodded his head politely and walked off.

I knew a little about wine and champagne, only because my barman told me what I needed to order. The champagne in the bucket was clearly expensive—I’d never even heard of the name—and it was suitably French, obviously. I was sure Darren had ordered the most expensive in the place just to outdo Greg. I outdid both of them by just sipping at my water.

“Shall we take the rest of the bottle to my room?”

I nearly choked when I heard what Greg had said.

“Pardon?”

“Well, you wanted us to share nicely and I don’t think that even in an establishment like this where confidentiality is taken seriously we could share you, nicely or otherwise, right here in the bar.”

It took a moment to register that Greg Stamford, billionaire high-flyer and serious hottie, was propositioning me for a threesome. I’d agreed to it earlier, but it still seemed too much like a fairy tale to be actually real.

“I agree, mate. We’d get chucked out. Want to go to my room? It’s the Ambassador Suite.” Darren announced this like I should be impressed. Maybe it was the most expensive room in the hotel? I wasn’t sure.

“My room has the best view over the city,” Greg snapped.

“Yes, that’s what they tell people who can’t get in the Ambassador Suite.”

“Boys, stop it.” My voice was quite loud. The low murmur of conversation stopped for a moment, then carried on.

“Look. You are both very rich, I get it. You both want to be top dog, I get that too, but would you stop bickering like bloody schoolboys, okay? I am very flattered, truly, and I never in a million years would have imagined being in this situation…” I left the sentence hanging and gathered my thoughts.

“Please don’t say no.” Darren’s smile dissipated. “I’m sorry.”

“Well—” I tried to continue with my tirade. I had the moral high ground. I was going to say thanks but no thanks and leave both gentleman hanging, but say that I hoped they’d both still honour their bookings. I was going to make a stand, I really was. Then… Well, I’m not quite sure what happened.

“I’m sorry too,” Greg added. “We’re just billionaires used to getting our own way. Let’s go to the Ambassador Suite, it’s a lovely room.”

Had I heard that right? Had Greg Stamford apologised and ceded to his most hated rival?

“Yes, let’s,” Darren nodded. “Please, Kerry?”

I challenge any woman alive to not cave in when hit with not one but two sets of puppy dog eyes from intensely handsome men. I couldn’t do it.

“Come on then,” I whispered, “lead the way.”

*****

Two hot, sexy billionaires know what they want and they want her, but will they be happy to share nicely?

Kerry Matthews is used to stress—she runs her own high-end London club called Diamonds, but what she isn’t used to is attention from two very persuasive and powerful men.

Darren Bennett and Greg Stamford are life-long rivals, but call a truce to spend one night with sassy, curvy Kerry. They’re not content to share forever though. They both have a selfish desire to possess her completely.

Darren buys her seductive lingerie, flowers and chocolates, Greg flies her to Paris for a romantic break, cleans her flat and makes her breakfast in bed. Both vying to cement their place in her heart. She needs to decide between them but is dazzled by their persuasive personas and extravagant gifts.

Reader Advisory: This book contains a scene of MFM Ménage and some violence.

Book Link: http://victoriablisse.co.uk/books/sharing-nicely

*****

Victoria Blis Smut and Magic woolfallphoto1Bio:

Victoria Blisse is a Mother, Wife, Christian, Manchester United Fan and Award Winning Erotica Authoress. She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, and the co-editor of the fabulous Smut Alfresco and Smut in the City and Smut by the Sea Anthologies.

Victoria is also one of the brains behind the fabulous Smut by the Sea Event taking place at Scarborough Library (UK) on the 22nd June 2013. A day dedicated to Erotica with a mini erotic marketplace and lots of Author Readings, Fun Giveaways and Exciting Talks.

She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker (She is TEB’s Resident “Naked Chef”) 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.

You can find often find Victoria procrastinating on Facebook http://facebook.com/victoriablisse , Twitter http://twitter.com/victoriablisse  and Pinterest http://pinterest.com/victoriablisse

To find out more check out http://victoriablisse.co.uk

You Only Live Twice: Justine Elyot Shares the Story Behind her fab Book, Lecture Notes

The Story Behind The Story 

You Only Live Twice

Or at least, that’s how I feel about my book, Lecture Notes.

It had its first life six years ago, on an online archive called Adult Fan Fiction, where I started my writing life. I’d written several fanfics, been encouraged by the response and made a good circle of friends there. When one of that circle started posting her own work in the Original Stories section, I was inspired to follow her example.

I started with a bawdy novella about pirates. It went down well, and I saw that I was able to write without relying on pre-formed worlds and characters. I embarked on a full-length story and the result was Lecture Notes.

I posted it chapter by chapter on a weekly basis. The reaction I got was astonishing to me. Thousands of readers waited for each update and the reviewers made my life – in fact, some of the reviews were better than the story itself and there was one person in particular whose brilliant, witty analysis I looked forward to every week. Readers sent in artwork of the characters and there was much joyous speculation on what was to come in the next chapter.

So it had a good life. I was very happy with the way it turned out.

But now it lives again, on the Kindle Direct programme. It’s been out for a month and sales have been modestly encouraging. Currently it’s free, and I hope it will reach a few more readers that way. It would be greedy of me to expect a second helping of the feedback I got from my amazing friends at Adult Fan Fiction, but a note here or there would be nice.

They really loved Sinclair and Beth, and perhaps, if you give them a try, you might too.

Blurb: Beth’s intense crush on Professor Sinclair is threatening to derail her first year at university. Her concentration is shot to pieces and her coursework is suffering accordingly. Luckily, Professor Sinclair has an antidote to that. An extremely interesting antidote…

Mentor and acolyte soon become lovers in an affair that takes them both to places they never thought they’d be. But is it too far, too fast?

Lecture Notes

And here’s a snippet:

I throw myself stomach first on the bed and wonder what it would take to get him to kiss me. Would he like to? Would he like to take these disciplinary scenes a little further? I imagine him doing so…how it would feel…his strong arms around me, his hands rubbing soothing cream on to my sore skin, his lips on my face, my neck, lower, lower, oooh. My hand has strayed underneath my stomach and has seamlessly slipped down to the throb between my legs. Two fingertips circle and press at the soft nub of flesh down there while I picture him kneeling behind me, opening me, stretching and filling me, harder and faster, backwards and forwards, pushing me purposefully towards the edge and then, with a hard pound and a low vibrating whisper in my ear that tells me I am his, he tips me over into freefall….oh yes…God, yes…Sinclair…Sinclair…Ooooooh.

Flushed and sticky, I sail into sleep hoping that dreams of my lustworthy landlord will meet me there.

Thanks for reading – and even more thanks to KD for putting up with me. If you want to know more about me and my stories, I’m at http://justineelyot.com/.

 

Buy Lecture Notes Here:

Amazon UK

Amazon.com