BDSM in the Gym: Power Under Control

While some of this post is excerpted from the archives, it seemed really appropriate right now for a lot of reasons. Most of you know that I’ve always found physical activity an ideal way to access my creativity. One of my personal tag line has always been that I walk my stories. But walking is the foundation of so much more.

 

And NO! This is not a testimonial. It’s just observations of my own experiences. A bit of a naval gaze, yes, but I hope you’ll indulge me.

 

A year ago this past November, I made the decision to take off the extra weight I’d been carrying around for longer than I care to think about. I decided that if I wanted to achieve my fitness goals, I needed to jettison the extra baggage, as it were. And yes, that is a metaphor for a lot of things going on in my life then and now. By the beginning of April last year, I’d lost thirty-five pounds, reduced body fat and gained lean muscle mass. But that was just the beginning. I knew that the challenge would be to maintain my new weight and the habits that got me there as a way of life.

 

So, this post is a celebration of my first anniversary. I’ve maintained my weight for a year, and during that year I’ve continued to grow stronger and more fit. So I guess you could say that this post is a celebration of my body and the journey it’s taken me on so far, as well as those connections to my creativity. Please remember that these are my thoughts and my experience of the journey. Everyone is different.

 

I was asked once to write a guest post explaining what I thought the appeal of BDSM is in erotica. It’s a subject I still think about often, and every time I do I find myself thinking about my workouts at the gym and drawing parallels.

 

I work out with a personal trainer once a week. In addition she also trains me in kettle bells and Pilates. While the woman looks sweet and gentle, to those who submit to her training, she is anything but. She pushes me hard, much harder than I would be able to push myself, and I have a reputation for pushing myself hard. But the truth is that I don’t trust myself completely. There are boundaries I’m afraid to push on my own. I’ve had too many injuries from pushing in the wrong way and overtraining. Though I love working out with my husband, and we have a great time together whether we’re practicing martial arts or whether we’re swinging kettle bells, or even on a long walk, he can’t really push me like my trainer does because he’s not a trainer and because I’m his wife and he’s careful with me. Also he doesn’t want to be around the bitch I can be if he tries to push me too hard. I love training on my own. I love the creative process of it, but that doesn’t eliminate my need to be pushed by someone who sees me better that I see myself.

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Some days I hurt. Some days I even have a few bruises — mostly from mishandling kettle bells. I’m pretty proud of
those, actually, because they mean I’m learning new techniques, they mean she trusts that I can handle more difficult challenges and heavier weights. It doesn’t matter how badly my body hurts or how exhausted I am — I keep pushing, and I know that I can push because my trainer’s looking out for me; she’s in control.

 

What makes a situation that would appear to any outsider like torture something that I revel in is what happens inside my head. What I experience when I’m pushed to the edge of my endurance is somewhat similar, I imagine, to what practitioners of BDSM call subspace, which is the headspace in which submissives may find themselves when they’ve been pushed to their limits by their Doms.

 

I’ve been thinking about that training headspace a lot lately, about the place where I go during a hard workout, when I’ve moved beyond tired and beyond pain. Pushing myself to the limit changes much more than my body. It feels like I go through stages. First there’s determination, and when the pain sets in (I’ve learned the difference between good pain and bad pain) and my body starts to rebel, the emotions start to well up – sometimes anger at the intangible, at some nemesis I neither have a name for nor can define. Sometimes that anger morphs into a child-like state that brings me close to tears, a state in which I want to turn on my trainer and ask her why the hell she’s being so mean to me – even as I push myself harder, even as I respect her more for believing I’m worthy of this challenge. When I get past that ‘why are you hurting me’ stage, what happens next is the most amazing part of all.  Somehow my body pushes the pain back. Endorphins, adrenaline, and all the chemical soup flooding into my brain and body take me to a place that feels far removed from what’s going on physically, and yet also feels right there at the very centre of my body, right there where the part that makes me ME resides.

 

The thing about the change that takes place when my trainer has pushed my boundaries and tested my skill level is that, even when the workout is over, the change remains. I’ve gone where I’ve not been before. The reservoir inside me that makes me who I am becomes deeper. I feel more real. I write this because I’m always seeking ways to understand what’s going on in the stories we writers tell. And when BDSM takes up such a large space under the erotica banner, why wouldn’t I seek parallels, why wouldn’t I search for ways to understand, ways to help my readers understand and identify. I do the same with all of the many components of erotica. Having said that, I hardly think it’s a surprise that gyms and physical fitness figure so prominently in erotic stories. Nor do I think it’s a surprise that for so many writers,
physical activity is closely  linked to creativity.

 

If I could put the experience I share with my personal trainer into a phrase, that phrase would be ‘power under control’ — my power, her control. And that power is power I didn’t know I had, power I would have been afraid to access without her control. I think we can’t overestimate the body as a teaching tool for knowing ourselves. Nor can we overestimate it as a tool to guide us deeper into our creative selves. We’re all our own biggest mystery — power unaccessed, depths unexplored –and most of us tend toward the path of least resistance. Moving off that path into the Undiscovered Country, accessing our power, is often easier when someone else, someone we trust completely, is in control.

 

Sweet! The Tutor is Number One!

 

That’s right! The Tutor is number one on the Amazon UK romantic erotica chart! I just had to share my good news. With The Tutor on Sale for the next month at 99 p/c, I’ll take that as a very good sign.

 

You can find all those details at this Tutor link.

 

And just because the lovely folks at Totally Bound wanted to help me celebrate and spread the news, here is the lovely graphic to commemorate the occasion.

 

 

 

 

And because such an occasion should be properly celebrated with something sweet, Lex Valentine’s cook, Cookie, has given me permission to share with you something truly, deliciously sweet — her recipe for Lex’s favourite cookies — Snickerdoodles. (Mine too, I have to admit) Yup, you guessed it, the woman gets her nick name because not only is she a fabulous cook, but she loves to bake cookies. Rumour has it that Nick Fury has commandeered her to work undercover for the Avengers from time to time when she’s not making great cookies. She makes Snickerdoodles for Lex when he’s had a particularly bad day … or when he’s had a particularly good day. I’m sure she’d agree, this has been a particularly good day.

 

Cookie’s Snickerdoodles

1/2 cup butter softened

1/2 cup shortening or oil

1 1/2 cup sugar

2 eggs

2 3/4 cups of all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons Cream of Tartar

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons sugar

2 teaspoons cinnamon

Heat oven to 400 degrees F/ 205 C

Mix thoroughly butter, shortening, 1 1/2 cups sugar and eggs.

Blend in flour, cream of tartar, baking soda and salt.

Shape dough into soft balls using tablespoon.

Mix 2 tablespoons of sugar with cinnamon and roll balls in mixture.

Place 2 inches apart on uncreased baking sheet. Bake for 8-10 minutes or until set.

Remove immediately from baking sheet.

Enjoy!

And just because I want to savour the moment with my Snickerdoodles and coffee, here is the screen shot proof.

 

The Tudor 99p/c: Lex and Kelly’s Story at the Best Price Ever!

 

I’m very excited to announce that the lovely folks at Totally Bound Publishing are doing a fab promo and discount for my novel, The Tutor. They’ve been planning and scheming with me for weeks now to bring The Tutor to you at such a great price and to get the word out about a novel that has a very special place in my heart.

For a whole month, beginning today, all eBook versions of The Tutor will be on sale for 99p/c. During that time there’ll be lots of fun promo going on, lots of insights and sneak peeks into the secret lives — not only of Lex and Kelly, but of the people who love them and the novel itself. As the writer, I have all the inside gossip about Lex and Kelly and the team, and Totally Bound have given me the perfect opportunity to share it with you and entice you to enjoy a different kind of romance.

So go ahead! Indulge in sizzling spring romance and a sizzling price. A good read is always a bargain.

 

The Tutor Blurb:

Struggling writer, Kelly Blake has a secret life as a sex tutor. Celebrated sculptor and recluse, Alexander ‘Lex’ Valentine, can’t stand to be touched. When he seeks out Kelly’s advice incognito, the results are too hot to handle. When Kelly terminates their sessions due to what she considers her unprofessional behavior, Lex takes a huge risk, revealing his identity to her at a gala exhibition, his first ever public appearance. When Kelly helps the severely haphephobic Lex escape the grope of reporters and paparazzi, rumors fly that the two are engaged, rumors encouraged by well-meaning friends and colleagues. The press feeding frenzy forces Kelly into hiding at Lex’s mansion where he convinces her to be his private tutor just until the press loses interest, and she can go back home. They discover quickly that touch is not essential for sizzling, pulse-pounding intimacy. But intimacy must survive the secrets uncovered as their sessions become more and more personal.

 

 

The Tutor Excerpt – What Does it Feel Like?

“Look I don’t expect you to deal with what a fucked up mess I am. I realized that what I really want to know is what it
feels like, what you feel like, what any woman feels like when she’s with a man, or even when she touches herself, and I have no one I would feel comfortable asking without wondering the whole time if they thought that by my asking I had given them permission to try and fix me. Does that make any sense?”

 

She had little time to do more than nod before he continued. “Oh I’ve watched enough porn that I get that it feels really good. I’ve read enough erotica to get some picture of how it’s supposed to be, but my take on it’s always one-sided,” he raised his hand and wiggled his fingers as though to demonstrate. “I can’t know anything but my own touch, certainly I can’t feel anything else, so I want you to tell me. I want you to answer my questions. I want you to tell me what I would feel if I touched you, what you would feel if I touched you. As for what I would feel if you touched me, well,” he shrugged and offered her a smile that seemed slightly forced, “for that I’ll just have to use my imagination.”

 

She took a deep breath, as though she were about to dive under water. “Okay, well, I’ll start with my lips because lovers often start there. I would have made sure they were moist for you before you kissed them, but not so wet as to be off-putting, and you would have done the same. And your first kisses would be tentative, if you’re really good, almost like a feather lighting against my mouth softly and repeatedly until I’m breathless for the want of more; and then I would part my lips to give you more surface area so that we could feel each other better.” She chuckled softly as she realized they’d both raised their fingers to their mouths. “And then we would both press harder and rub harder. The more surface area we touched the more we’d want and, I think lips swell, not just from the pressure, but in an effort to create that surface area, and when they can swell no more, when I feel like I want to completely take my lover into my mouth, then I would open to him and there would be a whole new surface area, wet and slick and warm, there would be a whole new motion when our tongues discover each other. I think a kiss reflects what happens in penetrative sex. It’s sort of an intimation, if you will,” her gaze locked on him, and for the first time she noticed just how blue his eyes were, “a promise of things to come.”

 

“Yes,” he whispered. “I’ve thought of that in my art. I’ve thought of the interchange we make with mouths and cocks and vaginas.” He struggles with the last word

 

“It’s okay to call it a pussy or a cunt or whatever works for you.” She said.

 

He laughed softly. “How the hell would I know?”

 

“Well,” she stretched out on the countertop and rolled onto her side, resting her head on her hand. “you just have to try
them out and see how they fit your mouth.”

 

This time they both laughed. “If they fit my mouth, I wouldn’t have to worry about what words I used, would I?”

 

“Good point,” she said.

 

“Not quite, but getting there fast, thank you.” Again, they both laughed, a strangely relaxed laugh under the bizarre circumstances.

 

“The thing is,” she said, rolling onto her back and staring up at the long rack of copper bottom pans above her head, “words are often as important in sex, and as erotic, as touch. I write in my other life, and I find that while some of my characters get turned on by waxing poetic between the sheets, others get hot by talking dirty.”

 

“How does your cunt feel when some fucker talks dirty to you,” he said, though not without a hearty blush.

 

“That would depend on the fucker and the circumstances and how badly I wanted to ride his cock.”

 

“And if it was a fucker whose cock you really wanted to ride, a fucker who was hard and heavy for you? What words would he use, and what response would he elicit?

 

“It wouldn’t hurt for him to observe out loud what he sees about my body’s state of arousal, and how he admires it.”

 

“You mean like how lovely your breasts are when your nipples are so taut that even your areola are visible through that shirt, which I imagine feels like a caress every time you inhale. You mean like the way your lips are parted and moist. You’ve not completely shut your mouth for the past five minutes, the way you rock your hips, almost but not quite secretly, and grind you bottom against the countertop. Is that what you mean?”

 

“Jesus! We shouldn’t be doing this.” She sat bolt upright on the surface and then froze as though someone had hit the pause button. “Alex?”

 

The man perched on the edge of the counter, just far enough away that she couldn’t easily touch him. He had kicked his
shoes off and his own nipples peaked to bullet points through his white polo shirt. That would have been enough to hold her attention indefinitely had it not been for the heel of his hand stroking the very obvious, very anxious erection through his jeans.

 

It was all right. It was fine, she told herself. She’d had more than a few occasions where her job involved watching and coaching someone while they masturbated. This was just her job. That’s all.

 

“It’s more obvious with me what I feel,” he said, raking her body with a hooded gaze. “And your nipples, well you could just be cold. Please tell me what you feel when you see me like this, when we talk like this.”

 

She moved to the edge of the counter giving him space, then motioned him onto it and she opened her leg. “If I weren’t wearing trousers, if you could see my panties, you’d know that I’m wet.” She nodded to his erection. “You’d know that the thought of what you’re doing, the sight of how your body is responding to mine, is making me wetter.” She cupped her breasts in turn, through the white blouse. “Every part of me feels heavy, Alex. My breasts feel like my bra can no longer contain them. My nipples ache. And my lips,” she touched her mouth, and then, holding his gaze, moved her hand down to rest on the crotch of her trousers. “My lips are swollen, so swollen and slippery and ready to be penetrated.” She nodded first to his mouth and then to his erection. “Do I want the fucker to give it to me hard and deep in my cunt? What do you think?”

 

“Oh God,” he managed. Then he stopped talking altogether. His breath came in tight little grunts and gasps as he
moved against his hand, holding her in his gaze as surely as if he held her in his embrace; and it was in that instant, the instant she slid her hand down the front of her trousers and into her panties an action he mirrored, that she knew neither of them would make it out of here intact. She wanted to run, but she didn’t. She wanted to take off her clothes
and feel his gaze all over her body, but she didn’t. She wanted to demand that he strip for her, that he come just for her eyes, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She could only cup and grope her breasts until they hurt. She could only stroke herself while she watched him do the same.

 

The space around them crackled with their energy, and their desperate efforts to breathe were the only sounds beyond the stroke of skin against fabric. In a hungry attempt at relief, they both rocked and bucked, mirror images of each other with one hand down the front of their trousers while the other groped and cupped and tweaked and pinched whatever part of their anatomy it came in contact with. Then breathing stopped, time stopped. Everything around them disappeared until they saw nothing but each other, locked in each other’s gaze, more physical than any embrace Kelly had ever felt, and it was enough. Heaven help them, it was enough. He came first by a split second, roaring like a wounded lion, arching back until she feared he’d either break his neck or fall off the counter. But the sight of him so vulnerable in his passion, the fact that even in his release, he kept his eyes on her was all she could handle, and she convulsed against her own hand, convulsed as though she would break apart, never taking her eyes off him, never breaking that connection.

 

Buy The Tutor Here:

eBook:
Totally Bound Publishing
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Amazon DE
Barnes & Noble
iBooks UK
iBooks US
Google Books
Kobo

Print:
Totally Bound Publishing
Amazon UK
Amazon US

 

Reviews:

The Romance Review“I was amazed at how well the author fanned the flames without the characters even touching. From well-detailed interactions to the steamy interludes, this is a story that is blazing hot.” 5 out of 5, The Romance Reviews

“Between helping each other, find themselves, exposing secrets and of course, some seriously steamy steamy situations, I fell hard for these characters. It’s really hard not to. Each one has their own secrets and darkness, but they learn from each other and feed off that. As much as this book is steamy and sexual, it’s just as emotionally driven. Yes, I shed a few tears, but they were happy ones.” 4 out of 5, The Jeep Diva

“This was a very different take on an erotic romance. I really enjoyed this story. The banter between Kelly and Lex was fun and interesting. Even without touching this book sizzles. The pacing was pretty fast. I don’t think I put the book down until I finished the story. Yes I loved the HEA ending. I also enjoyed the detailed character development and how the past events were slowly revealed.” 5 out of 5, Alpha Book Club

 

༺❃༻ IT’S A CRAZY ASS BLOGIVERSARY BLOG HOP! ༺❃༻

(After today this post will also be up on my Facebook Author Page http://www.facebook.com/KDGraceAuthor )

Join in some Crazy Ass Blogiversary Blog Hop fun as we celebrate three years of Crazy Daisy Book Whore.

Visit over 90 participating authors and bloggers for some awesome giveaways.

One lucky winner will win a kindle paperwhite, 80+ kindle ebooks*, and a few bucks in Amazon cash in the Crazy Ass Grand Prize Giveaway.

Enter the Crazy Ass Grand Prize Giveaway here: http://gvwy.io/92k4ntz (You must have a valid email to enter.)

Make sure you hop to the other pages and enter each giveaway.

KD’s Giveaway:

I’m giving away readers choice of any of my backlist You can check out all your choices here. (Does not apply to box sets)

To Enter:

All you have to do is like and share this post and leave a comment that you have along with your email addie.

And when you’re finished …

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Winners will be confirmed, contacted and posted on each of the participating pages on April 8th. Grand Prize winner will be announce by April 10th.
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Enter the Crazy Ass Grand Prize Giveaway here

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Shameless Selfie in the Veggie Patch with Surrogates

 

 

It’s the time of year when a woman’s thoughts turn to gardening — veg gardening, in my case. Ooh! I do love my garden porn, and Surrogates is one of my very best examples. Today’s shameless selfie is getting down and dirty in true garden porn fashion.

 

Surrogates Blurb:

DANIEL ALEXANDER III takes his marriage vows seriously. Until he gets the balls to ask his wife, BEL, for a divorce, watching each other masturbate is all he can offer his beautiful gardener, FRANCIE CARTER. But when Dan’s friend, SIMON PARIS, agrees to be his surrogate, affairs of the heart get complicated.

 

 

 

 

 

Crying over spilled seedlings — Surrogates Excerpt:

‘What am I, out of my fucking mind?’ Cassie shoved the basket of vegetables that would grace Dan and Bel’s table tonight onto the worktop in the greenhouse, and wiped frantically at her eyes with the backs of her hands. She wasn’t about to cry. She wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction.

They were going to feast on her vegetables to give them the strength and stamina to make their own entertainment. Wasn’t that what Bel said to Dan? Make their own fucking entertainment, and why not? The woman was his wife. And Cassie was nothing more than the hired help. The stupid hired help who didn’t have enough brains to stay away from her gorgeous boss! Make that her arsehole boss, she mentally corrected herself. She bit back a sob and grabbed a tray of basil seedlings from the incubator. Cook wanted a couple of new basil plants, since Bel now had it in her head that basil was the herb of eternal youth and had practically been grazing off the stuff.

‘Excuse me have you seen Dan?’

Cassie spun around and nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of the unexpected man standing so close behind her. She dropped the tray of basil seedlings she’d just pulled from the incubator. Seedlings and compost exploded onto the floor.

And that was it. That was the straw that broke the gardener’s back. She’d babied those seedlings along for weeks now, keeping them safe and warm and trauma-free and now this. She burst into tears.

‘Oh god! Oh god! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Please don’t cry. Here, I’ll help you.’

But it was suddenly like the dam had burst, all these weeks of wanting Dan so badly, of knowing that no matter what he said, no matter how hot their wank sessions were, at the end of the day it wasn’t her bed he shared, all these weeks of feeling guilty because while he stayed faithful to Bel, she didn’t care, she would have fucked him in a New York minute if he just said the word. And she liked Bel, that was a part of the problem. Bel was okay. But still, she would have fucked him if he’d asked. But he didn’t. And it all bubbled up in the upside down tray of seedlings.

‘Here, sit down, please don’t cry. I’ll take care of it,’ the man was saying, guiding her away from the mess on the floor. ‘There, there. It’ll be okay. Basil seedlings are tough. They’ll be okay, just please stop crying. Can I get you some water? Aspirin?’ He didn’t wait for her to answer. Instead he guided her to the stool near the work bench and pushed her gently onto it, then he scooped the spilled compost back into the tray and began to pick up the seedlings one by one and putting them back in. ‘There, there. It’ll be okay. You see, no damage, just a little spill. See? Not even one broken stem, don’t worry. These will be just fine.’

Even through the tears she recognized the untidy nails of a fellow gardener. It wouldn’t have mattered if his hands had been meticulously scrubbed and manicured, she would have known by the careful way he rescued the little basil plants, taking them gently by their stems and placing them carefully in the tray.

‘There, you see. Good as new,’ he said placing the tray onto the table next to the basket of veg. ‘Lovely veg, by the way,’ he added. ‘The courgettes are exquisite. ‘Did you grow them?’ He picked up the one that had been shoved up her cunt only minutes before and she burst into tears again. A courgette! She had actually been reduced to fucking a courgette.

‘Oh dear, Oh god, I’m so sorry.’

She scrabbled off the stool to make a run for it, anywhere but here, someplace where she could hide her humiliation. ‘Wait! Don’t run off like that.’ He slipped his arms around her and caught her before she could flee. ‘I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. Please at least give me a chance to apologize.’

‘No, no. It’s not you,’ she sobbed against his shoulder. ‘You have nothing to apologize for. You’re doing great, wonderful, actually. It’s me. I’m so stupid. So absolutely stupid.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I know stupid when I see it, and you’re not it.’ He tightened his arms around her and she felt good, solid muscle in the embrace. God, how long had it been since she felt good solid male muscle? She slipped her arms around his neck. He was tall, and as he tightened his embrace, he practically lifted off her feet. Tall and strong, she thought, as the muscles low in her belly gave a little quiver.

One large hand began to stroke her mussed hair. She hadn’t worn it back today because Dan liked it lose, but Dan never touched it, this bloke was touching it, gently, tenderly the same way he’d touched her seedlings, and her nipples beaded to a tight, nearly painful, press against the rise and fall of his chest. She could feel the heat of his breath against the top of her ear, which seemed to have accelerated a bit. ‘In fact, if that veg garden I walked past is your doing, then I’d say you’re anything but stupid. You’re an artist. I’m in awe.’

Then she did the unthinkable. She curled her fingers in his thick brown hair and pulled his face down to hers. A little sigh of surprise escaped his throat, but he didn’t resist as she brushed her lips across his, still standing on tiptoe. Instead, he returned the favour, cupping her cheek in his large hand and lifting her off her feet with the arm that now encircled her waist. And the brush of lips became a full-fledge assault, tongues sparring, lips crushing, breath coming it harsh little gasps. And it wasn’t just the mouth. It was the over-all effect of a real body, a real live male body barely able to contain the erection she could now clearly feel in his jeans. And just from the rub up, it made the courgette seem rather inadequate.

‘I don’t know you nearly well enough for this,’ he gasped when he finally came up for air. But before she could apologize for her unthinkable behavior, his mouth was up for round two, but this time, he lifted her bodily onto the work table, her legs falling open on either side of him, her dress scrunching until rough denim raked the moist satin gusset of her knickers. ‘You’ve rescued my seedlings and fondled my courgette. That’s good enough for me,’ she breathed against his mouth.

She was just getting ready to open his fly and free Simba when Cook called from the garden path.

‘Cassie? Cassie are you there?’

 Buy Surrogates Here:

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Barnes & Noble
iBooks UK
iBooks US
Kobo

Reviews:

 

“Full of quirky characters, kinky sex, unusual settings and clever writing, Surrogates is definitely an erotic romance novella I’d recommend if you’re looking for something a little different.” Erotica For All

*****

“This was an exciting and sexy read at the turn of every page, with a storyline that was so original it was brilliant. If you want a fun, fast read with great character flow and connection and hot sex on almost every page this is for you.” Midnight Boudoir

*****

“Surrogates is the perfect novel for any erotica reader out there… hot, sexy, sensual… it definitely defines erotica it in it’s own right. K.D Grace is one amazing author whose novels simply should be devoured!” A Redheads Guilty Reads

*****
“There are plenty of hot hot sex scenes and a case of mistaken identity and misunderstandings. It is a fun and quick read. Overall, very well written. The characters come alive on the pages and they feel real. I recommend it to anyone who likes short, erotic tales and who aren’t put off by some f/f action and threesomes.” Hearts on Fire Reviews

*****

“Surrogates is full of tongue in cheek comedy, and has just the right amount of erotica to fill readers minds with accounts of how both Daniel and Bel get their orgasms. This is a voyeur’s version of heaven.” 5 out of 5, Love Romance Passion

 
© 2017 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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