Sex in a Holy Place by Lucy Felthouse

My lovely guest today is right on schedule with her plans to conquer the world, and I can’t think of anyone who’d be better set in charge of it. Plus she writes really hot smut. Welcome, Lucy Felthouse, who is here to tell us all about sex in a holy place.


Writing about sex in a holy place was certainly not my intention when I started writing BITE WITH HEIGHT. The story was wholly influenced by a visit to Paris, and in particular, the Sacré-Coeur, but I wasn’t expecting my characters to get it on within the premises. It just kind of… happened.

When I visited the beautiful building seated on the highest point in Paris I was completely inspired and I knew that it would feature in my work at some point. The more I explored, the more I started getting ideas of a paranormal nature. When I actually sat down to write BITE WITH HEIGHT I didn’t know precisely where it was going to go. I just knew that my main character would share my passion for the Sacred Heart.

When the story progressed and it became apparent that my characters were going to get down and dirty on the roof of the building, I didn’t hesitate. It’s not gratuitous sex within a holy place, written purely to shock. It’s an integral part of the story – but of course it’s still naughty. And that’s why I love it – it’s actually a very sweet romantic tale (especially for me!) but there are some rather taboo elements within it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much I enjoyed writing it, especially since there’s a sequel in the works…

Here’s a little taster:

Meg laughed, tugging Grace in for another kiss. This time both girls were on the same page, and the kiss was toe-curlingly sensual. Soon, Meg pulled away, only to trail her lips down the other girl’s throat and begin planting soft kisses and trailing her tongue across the delicate skin there. Grace gasped, and tangled her fingers in Meg’s hair.

“Trust me,” Meg said softly, fearing Grace thought she was going to bite her. “I will never do anything you don’t want me to.”

“I know. It just feels damn good, that’s all. Don’t stop.”

“Oh, I have no intention of stopping.”

When Grace didn’t reply, Meg began to undo the buttons of her shirt, eventually parting the sides to reveal Grace’s body. She was so pale she could almost be a vampire herself. She had pert breasts, not overly large, nor small. Just right in fact, thought Meg as she cupped them together and trailed her tongue up the deep cleavage she’d created.

By now Grace had shrugged off her shirt and let it fall to the floor. Pushing her so the back of her knees hit the bench behind, Meg maneuvered Grace into a sitting position. Kissing down her stomach, she began to undo her jeans, then smiled into the girl’s flesh as Grace’s hips pushed towards her. From innocent to rampant in a matter of minutes. Meg loved Grace more every second.

“Shall we get these off then?” she asked, tugging at Grace’s jeans. The response came by way of some mad wriggling. The jeans joined the shirt on the floor. Grace was now clad only in her underwear – her shoes having been kicked off along with the jeans. And by God, she was stunning. With pale skin and black bra and panties, she looked quite the vamp. For a non-vamp, that is.

Meg slipped her fingers into the waistband of Grace’s panties and tugged them down, the other girl once more assisting with some jigging around. Looking up at Grace, Meg assessed her facial expression, as if looking for permission to continue. Grace nodded, almost imperceptibly. Meg needed no more prompting.


Bite With Height


When Meg spots a young woman alone in the Pigalle district of Paris at night, she’s intrigued. She has to know her story and find out why she looks so sad and alone. After introducing herself, Meg realizes that she and Grace have a lot in common. But when they decide to go and grab a drink together, they discover a mutual love that could bond them forever.

Available from:
Noble Romance
Amazon UK
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks
Barnes & Noble (Nook)


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, Noble Romance, Ravenous Romance, Summerhouse Publishing and Xcite Books. She is also the editor of Uniform Behaviour and Seducing the Myth. Find out more at You can also find her on Facebook and Twitter.


What Happens in Vegas Part 1

I’m not a Vegas sort of person. I went for the Erotic Authors Association Conference, not for the gambling, not for the bright lights. I wasn’t there to be impressed. And yet…

We flew over the Sierra Nevada Mountains just before we landed in Las Vegas.  We all crane our necks for a look at impossibly jagged peaks already covered with snow, even as we were about to land in 97 degree temperatures. But on the ground, it was desert heat and more shades of brown and tan and olive than I would have thought possible, all set off in stunning relief against a baby blue sky puffed with clouds that were clearly only there for looks rather than business. Very appropriate for Vegas.

The woman behind me on the shuttle talked loudly on her cell phone in a Midwestern accent to whoever was taking care of her geriatric dog back home. When the conversation finally ended with her satisfied that the pooch was in good hands, we all turned our attention to the shuttle driver, a man who was a driving history book of Las Vegas. While he delivered us to our respective hotels, he regaled us with stories of Bugsy Segal and the mob history of Las Vegas. The Flamingo is the original resort hotel that Bugsy Segal built in the middle of the desert.

My room was on the 14th floor, with views of the mountains in between the towers of Bally’s and Paris Las Vegas. Once I got settled, I explored the hotel grounds, lingering in the gardens to see the habitat for flamingos, sacred ibis, and black swans. I was planning to meet Sharazade for dinner, but I’d gotten a message from her saying she’s coming in on a later flight, so I decided to check out The Strip on my own.

Las Vegas is in your face, like an arid version of New Orleans on steroids and all tarted up with neon and fountains. It’s like Disneyland for adults, Sharazade observed, when we finally connect the next day. Just as it was getting dark I wandered about with my mouth open and my eyes bugging because there was so much to see. I’ve been to Paris, so Paris Las Vegas shouldn’t impress me, but when it rises up all truncated and neon in the middle of the desert it does. I realized as I walked amid the tourists who are as bug-eyed as I am that though I’m hearing lots of different languages, a lot of the people who are here will never get any closer to Paris or Venice or the Forum in Rome than Las Vegas, and the tarted-up versions can’t fail to impress.

As I stopped to watch the volcano erupt in front of Treasure Island, along with the rest of the enthralled crowd, I realize that as much as I’d like to stick my nose in the air and be unimpressed, the spirit of the place is contagious, and it would be really hard to walk among the holiday makers and the lovers there to elope and the neon and the noise and the resorts that are several city blocks in size and not get caught up in the atmosphere.

I ended up shivering in an overly air conditioned food court having Mexican food, my first since arriving in the US. I ate and people-watched. The city was awash in spandex and suicide stilettos, and I find that, in spite of myself, I was loving every minute of it.

Outside again, I was happy to leave the air conditioning and get warm. It was a dry delicious 87 degrees, and that alone, after leaving the rainy damp of south England, was enough to make me feel festive. I walked along stopping here and there to watch people and take in the giddy gaudiness of it all. In some places Hispanic men and women lined the streets handing out cards for peep shows and escort services, and I squirmed at the contrast of people working a hard, uncomfortable job in order to put food on the table while they watch a party going on all around them in which they never get to participate.

I watched the incredible dancing fountains in front of the Bologgio amid the crowd and press of others doing the same, and I wandered along the street where tourists were having their pictures taken with Elvis impersonators and show girls decked out in brightly coloured feathers. A man who had too much to drink was propositioning every woman who walked by. I found myself lost and turned around in the maze of stylized bridges that crisscross the heavily trafficked street that runs through the strip. The bridges cross into resorts and come down alongside towers of glass and flashing lights opening onto the streets like gaping mouths exhaling the overly air conditioned breath of the casinos into the warm the night.

 I was caught up and carried along on a wave of sensory overload that smelled of restaurants and cigarette smoke and perfume and sweaty bodies and excitement; and looked like a city all dressed up for a costume ball. I let it all settle around me and flow through me until the heat and the noise and the jet lag of too many time zones passed through too quickly began to take a toll. Sharazade still hadn’t arrived, and I was fading fast. I made my way back to the Flamingo through the sparkle and the kaching of the slots to the elevator banks. I managed to make it back to the room and whip of an email to Sharazade that I’d see her in the morning. Then I slept.

I woke in the night and looked out at the dazzle of the lights from the 14th floor and I drift back to sleep with after images of the rich blue lights of the towers of the Cosmopolitan fading behind my eyelids. The next time I woke up, the mountains between the towers of the casinos were just blushing pink, and I was struck by the contrast of the rugged wilderness, jagged and overwhelming held at bay by towers of glass and steel and lights. Even Las Vegas seems small and demure next to such vastness.

As I looked over the schedule for the first day of the Erotic Authors Association conference, the butterflies woke up in my stomach. When I thought about the day ahead, the introvert in my cowered for a second, wanting to run away to the mountains beyond. But this would be the day I got to be on my first panel ever, and this would be the day I got to read from Holly in front of a new audience, and this would be the day I got to meet the people who I already knew would be my friends, the fabulous smutters on the US side of the pond. It would be good. I knew it would.

Stay tuned for the next installment of What Happens in Vegas.


Lisa Beth Darling Shares the Story Behind The Heart of War

I’ve always been a huge fan of mythology, so I’m very excited to welcome Lisa Beth Darling to tell us about her very long and productive relationship with Ares, the God of War.

Ares and I have been together for almost twenty-years. In a lot respects we’re like an old married couple; we needle each other, poke fun at each other, spur each other forward, lean on each other, and generally just share this whole experience we call Life. It’s a very symbiotic relationship and, I think, it works well on all counts.

I say twenty-years because that’s the first time Ares made an appearance in a story I was writing but I was actually introduced to him ten years before that in a high school English class. I thought he was the most interesting God in the Greek Pantheon and I still do. Anyway, back to that story.

I was writing a fanfiction novel (when I didn’t even know ‘fanfiction’ existed because I hadn’t yet gotten on this new thing everyone was talking about The Information Superhighway, ie, Internet) it was titled “Highlander: Forever”. At the very end of the long, sweeping, romantic tale, Ares came in as the heroine’s Father and surprised the hell out of me. But it was what the story wanted and it was total fiction so, why not? We went with it. He ended up a brief appearance that consisted of, maybe, five lines but they happened to pull the whole story together. When I got on the Internet and re-typed the story because my word processor discs weren’t compatible with the new computer, I put it up on the Internet. People liked it. It was different. Most of my stuff is…’different’. People complimented on Ares and on how much they liked the way I’d written the character.

I didn’t write him. He just sort of wrote himself in.

Time went on, two television shows named “Hercules the Legendary Journeys” and “Xena Warrior” princess took over the TV on the weekends in my house. “Herc” was handsome and all a hero should be but what’s a hero without a villain? “Ares” was handsome to the point of drooling and wicked as the night was long. He made my blood pump. Two years after that another show came on the TV and started taking over my house along with “Herc” and “Xena”, “Stargate SG-1”. I loved “Stargate” the movie. It was great! I still remember going to see it in the movie house with my husband. I fell in love with ‘Daniel Jackson’ before we left the movies that night. I was never even a big fan of James Spader.

These three shows and their storylines merged in my head. I was a stay-at-home mom with two young daughters. I needed a distraction. Something to fill my time…when there was downtime. I began writing a fanfiction series entitled “Daughter of the Gods” based on the “Stargate SG-1” backdrop, using ‘Daniel Jackson’ as the hero and an original female character ‘Calla’ as the heroine. Ares once again came in to play the heroine’s Father. It fit in so naturally that I didn’t fight it but I tried to make it known that the series wasn’t a ‘crossover’ piece. From the start I considered ‘Ares’ MINE, he was MY character and mine alone. As the series progressed into six novels and thirty short stories, ‘Ares’ took over! Readers either outright loathed him or they loved-to-hate him. He did some pretty rotten shit! Oh, yes, yes, he did.

As with most things, that series ended. My children were older by then, I had a part-time job. I decided to go back to writing all-original novels and stories. I started with “Dream Weaver” which is really a thinly disguised autobiographical account of my time in the “Stargate SG-1” fandom. I didn’t know anything about promotion or ebook conversions or…well…anything really. I was a total newbie, a babe lost in the woods with no mentor. “Dream Weaver” sold a few copies but I was never able to do what I should have for it.

Disheartened, I went back to fanfiction and did two series for “House, MD”. They were quite different from each other. One was a completely erotic adult series and the other was this wonderfully sweet and dramatic story about ‘Greg House’ and his mentally and physically challenged sister ‘Hannah Rice’ an original character of mine. I love that series. To this day I think its some of my best work and I was sad to have it end. Right at the end of the tale, a character from the “Daughter of the Gods” series popped up and became ‘Hannah’s’ love interest. It was wonderful. Not just because ‘Nick Jackson’ fit in so well and so graciously and gently reminded me of a few things I may have forgotten but because he signified ‘Ares’ was just around the corner once more.

The ‘House’ series ended. It was time to write an original novel again. There was ‘Ares’. Through all of the fanfiction stuff, he was the only one still standing tall and strong. He was the only thing about any of that I didn’t just want to hold on to, I needed to hold on to. I needed it because there were so many things left undone with him. Because of the way the previous stories were written, ‘Ares’ could never be the hero. He was always the antagonist if not the outright villain of the stories.

He was more than that. It was time to show it. I always wanted to let him take the lead in a story, a novel, and really let him off the chain, and show him for all that he is and all that he can be. I always wanted to let him be the hero he always wanted to be but never made it. No, he was always the Black Knight in very tarnished armor, even when his heart was in the right place he always managed to do the wrong thing.

As we (the Muse/Ares/The Big Guy) and I hemmed and hawed over the pros and cons of doing all original material again and trying to get it out there and, OMG! What a tough SELL he was going to be as the hero! A picture came across my eye as I was Googling around.

I KNEW with the right woman, he could be the hero. Five minutes after my eye met that picture “The Heart of War”, a 500 page novel, was rolling around in my head and screaming to get out. We sat down, we wrote without care for publication or audience or word count or specific genre or anything. We just wrote. We wrote and wrote.

When we got to ‘The End’ I knew there were going to be more stories. I knew, just as we finished it, there were four stories to the “OF WAR” series and we were going to be in this for the long haul. We were going to follow Ares and Alena throughout the entire course of their relationship where they would face many dangers and challenges. The biggest of all being whether or not they could stay together and stay in love.

Been fun so far!

Inside the Heart of every Warrior breathes the Soul of a Hero–even within The Heart of War.

Meet Ares God of War, the greatest Warrior the world has ever known. He’s moody, grumpy, dominant, ravenously sexual, and above all, built like a Greek God.

Suspected of killing his Daughter in-Law, Psyche, and long in exile from Olympus, the solitude of Ares’ secluded Greek Isle is interrupted when Magdalena MacLeod a plucky little Fey washes up on his shore after believing she’s been shipwrecked. It’s not mere fate that has brought the unlikely couple together yet it may be what tears them apart.

Branded with a golden chastity belt bearing the mark of Cernunnos, Celtic God of the Forest and Death, Alena has been on the run from her husband the Great Horned God for 200 years.

When the Olympians discover her presence on Ares’ island, they send Apollo to the island while Ares is away with orders to bring her to Olympus. With nowhere to run and strikes a bargain with the God of War–her virginity for his protection.

Ares sees a sweeter deal; her in his bed and himself back in his rightful place on Olympus among the Gods. If it means turning Alena over to Zeus afterward, well that’s of no consequence to him…is it?

After Alena proves herself to the God of War in battle and in his bed, Ares must choose between his Divinely Dysfunctional Family, his pride, and Alena.

Get lost in this sweeping dark saga of lust, rage, revenge, and redemption. Battle Ancient Gods while falling in love with Ares God of War and Alena MacLeod. They share a love that will rock the world from the heights of Olympus to the Celtic moors.

The Heart of War contains scenes of graphic sex and violence. As such, this novel is intended for ADULTS ONLY it is NOT recommended for the Faint of Heart.


“There must be some way to get this thing off of you.”  He huffed as he reached out to touch and examine it.

“Only Cernunnos, only a Go—“

Ares’ hand landed on the gold at her waist, it covered the entire space between her legs, the willow tree, the love knot, and the words I Await Thee.


Both of them looked down to see the band had opened at his touch.

Staring at each other with their mouths hanging open for a moment, each of them not sure what had happened had truly happened, Maggie began to tremble and then to shake.

It opened!  It was OPEN!

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Ares stuttered almost apologetically.

“Get it off me!”  Maggie yelled and began to try to push her fingers through the space between her waist and the band.  “Get it off!”  She cried again and began jumping up and down where she stood as she wriggled and struggled with the belt.

“Women,” Ares huffed.  “No, don’t touch me!  Get it off of me!”  He mocked in a high voice.  “Make up your mind.”

“What are you?  Stupid?”  With her modesty having flown straight out the window, Maggie railed at him, “GET IT OFF!”  It would not budge, her skin seemed to have grown around the edges of the belt, and it would not give no matter how hard she struggled to push it down.

“Stop it!”  Ares demanded.  “You’re going to rip the flesh from your bones!”  She did not heed his words, she just kept trying to pull it off and he could understand her haste but, “You’re not helping!”  He grabbed both of her wrists between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand and held them up over her head.  The woman struggled in his grasp, her brow furrowed and her upper lip curled as she pulled and pulled trying to escape.  “Do you want me to break your arms?  Will that settle you?”  Still she struggled and yanked until Ares had to add a second finger around her wrist to keep her from slipping out of his grasp.  “You can’t get free of me; I am much stronger than you.”  In his free hand a small vessel appeared, her eyes grew wide when she took it in. “It’s olive oil, that’s all.  Just stand still.”  He let go of her hands and when she stood still, he drizzled the oil over and around the band at her waist using one finger to push away her skin allowing the oil to drip past the gold.  The top rim soaked, Ares poured a handful of the oil into his palm.  “Open your legs.”

Maggie hesitated, she wanted the belt off more than anything but feared what would happen the second it hit the floor.

“You want to be rid of it or not?”





Barnes & Noble





All Romance e-books


The Heart of War is Book #1 in the Of War series by Lisa Beth Darling


Other Books in this series

Child of War-A God is Born–Now available in

Mass PAPERBACK Release 10/31/2011

Mass E-BOOK Release 11/25/2011




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Previews of Autumn Heat

Inspiration in Blog-sized Doses

My feet have nearly recovered from the 192 mile walk across England, and I’ve blogged my way through the whole fabulous Coast to Coast. I can’t begin to say how inspiring the experience was for me, nor how much it stretched me and forced me to move beyond my comfort zone – always something I struggle with. The walk has convinced me to add a new Inspiration page to my website. It’s been in the back of my mind for awhile, and will now be a regular part of my blogging. In it you will find my Coast to Coast blog posts all together for easy reading for those of you who may have missed out on it.

I plan to use this new section of my blog to share those experiences that stir my imagination and inspire me to write. My hope is that whether you’re a writer, a reader or a house painter, you’ll maybe find inspiration in those experiences as well. And let’s face it, we all love to share the things that inspire us.

What Happens in Vegas

While what happens in Vegas may stay in Vegas most of the time, I plan to tell you every yummy detail when I head to Sin City for the Erotic Authors Association Conference at the fabulous Flamingo Hotel on September 9th and 10th. I’ll be doing some readings, visiting the Erotic Heritage museum and participating in an erotic romance panel. Plus I’ll be taking advantage of all the other great talks and events that are happening throughout the weekend. And best of all, I’ll get the chance to meet some of my fabulous American erotica writing friends who, until now, I’ve only known through social media.

Vincent’s Oregon

From Las Vegas, I’ll fly back to Portland, Oregon to meet my sister, with whom I’ll spend the next ten days tromping around the exquisite Oregon countryside visiting some of Vincent’s favourite haunts from The Pet Shop.  I’m very excited to be photographing and blogging about the Oregon Vincent loves so much because I’ll be getting in the spirit of things for the party to end all parties, The Pet Shop launch in London!

The Pet Shop Launch

Between the walking and the polishing of the first book of the Lakeland Heatwave trilogy, I’ve had plenty to keep me focused as I’ve waited impatiently for the print release of The Pet Shop. Most of you know, The Pet Shop is already out in eBook formats and has been getting fab reviews, but October 14th is the date I’ve been waiting for with bated breath.

And, as you may have guessed, the big launch bash for the print premier of Pets will be at one of my favourite places on the planet, Sh! Women’s Erotic Emporium  Hoxton!  There’ll be pink fizz, yummy delectables, readings, book signings and the whole titillating two floors of the Sh! store to explore and shop through. If that’s not enough to make for a hot party, some of the hottest names in erotica are going to be there to help me celebrate. And the celebration will be two-fold because the 14th is also the delicious Mr Grace’s birthday, so we’ll slap a candle in his cupcake and all party together. If you’ll be in the neighbourhood 14th of October, be sure to put it on your calendar and stop in for the fun. I’ll be giving more details as time gets closer. Needless to say, I’m very excited, and looking forward to turning my misbehaving Pets loose on London and the rest of the UK — in print. Once they’ve done their misbehaving best in the UK, they’ll arrive in the States in print in January just in time to celebrate the New Year.

Lakeland Heatwave on the Way

Most of you know I came home from the Coast to Coast walk and went right to work on the final polishing of Lakeland Heatwave: Body Temperature and Rising. I had the chance to pick Brian and Von Spencer’s wonderful brains for more Lakeland and Mountain Rescue information while I was on the Lake District leg of the Coast to Coast walk. As always, their help has been invaluable in making sure I get the details right. Once back home, getting the final draft ready to go out the door was priority one, and inspiration from the walk and from Brian and Vron’s helpful observations made it a pleasure rather than a chore.

Lakeland Heatwave: Body Temperature and Rising is the first novel of my paranormal erotic romance trilogy set in the Lake District, and will be published in February 2012. It’s intense, dark and hotter than hot. I’ll be working on the second novel by the New Year, if not before.

A Hopeful Romantic in Autumn

Besides the new Inspiration page on A Hopeful Romantic, there will be intriguing new additions of The Story Behind the Story and there will be some fabulous guests and interviews and field trips coming up as 2011winds down, so stay tuned.

In the meantime, what happens in Vegas will NOT be staying in Vegas, as my next update on all the latest will be coming to you straight from The Erotica Authors Association Conference in Sin City.


Justine Elyot tells us what Robin Hood and Erotic Amusements have in Common

I’m very pleased to have one of my very favourite writers, the incredible Justine Elyot, as my guest today for The Story Behind the Story. Welcome Justine!

Erotic Amusements was originally conceived as a kind of Alternate Universe fanfiction story about the recent BBC version of the Robin Hood story – specifically the relationship between the Sheriff of Nottingham and his increasingly reluctant henchman, the gloriously brooding and leatherclad Guy of Gisborne.

So far, so whimsical. I contemplated writing it, then realised that, nah, I don’t have time for fanfic any more, much as I love it, so I abandoned the idea.

Some time later, I happened to be preparing some novel proposals for Xcite books, and this problematic relationship came back to mind. Only somehow, the Sheriff and Guy had whizzed themselves through time and space to a contemporary seaside town and had metamorphosed from their medieval counterparts into modern people with different traits and preoccupations. Their problematic relationship – the unscrupulous overlord and the trapped enforcer – remained intact, however (as did Guy – now Rocky’s – black leather outfit). I threw in a clutch of lovers and colleagues et voilà – I had something a bit moody and a bit noir to satisfy my increasing need to write a story with a plot.

In the event, Xcite took one of my other proposals (The Business of Pleasure), so my cast of characters were shoved into a drawer for a while. But I still thought about them, and added bits of their stories in my head until I had a fully formed story just waiting to be written as soon as the opportunity arose.

I couldn’t stay away from it for long, though, and the book almost wrote itself. I had not worked on something so plotty and character-driven since my fanfiction days, and the chance to do it again was a rare pleasure. The seaside setting was another big bonus for me – the town of Goldsands became an extra character, driving a lot of the action.

I sent it to Carina Press on a whim because they were new and fresh but had a wealth of expertise and reputation too. I never, even for a moment, expected them to take it. But they did, and here it is! One for my fellow Guy-fans everywhere.





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In Goldsands, there are many amusements to be had for those willing to give in to their deepest desires…

The seaside resort town of Goldsands is a place of dreamers and transients who wash in and out like the tide. But its picture-postcard prettiness conceals some sinister realities. Coldhearted mogul Charles Cordwainer owns most of the local businesses, both legitimate and illicit, and more than a few of its residents.

Michelle, Cordwainer’s submissive: despite her loyalty, he plans to turn her over to another man. Flipp, the new girl in town: she has a dark past and a penchant for bondage. Rocky, Cordwainer’s right-hand man: a sexy biker with eyes for Flipp. Laura, Goldsands’s carnival queen: an über-bitch with her sights fixed on Rocky.

Secrets, betrayals, lovers all become intertwined—and when someone starts digging up the dirt on Cordwainer’s empire, nothing will ever be the same…


Flipp knew from the moment she stepped off the train and smelled the salt-and-chip fat that Goldsands was going to suit her.

It was a place where a new girl in town drew little in the way of notice or comment. A place of comers and goers, dreamers and transients, addicts and bohemians. They washed in and out like the tide on the broad curving beach that gave the place its name. Some of them sank, some of them trod water, and some of them found exactly what they were looking for here. Of course, Flipp didn’t know at the time which of those she would turn out to be, but she was hoping to find out, one way or another.

So, by the time she was established in her little change booth at Caesar’s Palace on the Pier, Flipp knew that she wanted to be in Goldsands. Her resolve was certainly bolstered, though, when Rocky rocked up, interrupting her nail-filing mission and hurling himself slap-bang into the middle of her dirtiest dreams.

“The boss in?” he asked curtly, raising an eyebrow towards the door marked Private: Staff Only.

Flipp didn’t look up at first, registering only a low, grumpy-sounding voice. She pinched her lips together and wondered if Maroon Moon was really the right shade for her.

“Who wants to know?” The mockney accent was getting difficult to sustain, so she only spoke when absolutely necessary.

“Rocky wants to know.”

She looked up at that, taking him in for the first time and liking what she saw. And who would not like a piece of Rocky? Six-feet-two of Herculean man in black bike leathers with accessorising hair and stubble, he was enough to stop most female traffic in its tracks.

“Oh,” she said, laying down her nail file and running fingers through her hair. “So you’re Rocky. The boss said I should watch out for you.”

“Watch out, eh?” Rocky leaned an elbow on the shelf of the booth, peering through the scratched Plexiglas screen, leading the new girl to hope she was casting a spell of intrigue on him. “Did he tell you I was dangerous, then?”

Flipp leaned forward, meeting his devilish gaze, the tips of their noses only prevented from touching by the barrier. “Something like that.” She grinned, wishing she had some gum to chew on. It was so much easier to look cool and indifferent to a guy when you were chewing, for some reason.

“He was right. I’m the big bad wolf. What’s your name? Don’t tell me it’s Little Red Riding Hood.”

She giggled and looked away briefly before turning back to him.

“It’s Flipp.”

“What kind of a name’s that?”

“No worse than Rocky.”

“Cheeky. I’ll see you later.” Emphasising the “you,” he backed away, pointing one gloved finger in her direction before disappearing through the staff door in a jink-clink of buckles and belts.

Thanks for stopping by and giving us a peek at Erotic Amusements, Justine! I’m a sucker for bad-assed biker boys in leather. Can’t wait to read this one!

© 2018 K D Grace
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