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Sugar Daddies by Renee Rose (@ReneeRoseAuthor)

tourbutton_mobmistressThank you, KD, for having me here today!

My husband told me recently that there’s a website in my hometown called Sugar Babies, where hot female students from the University offer their services as escorts (ostensibly with no sex involved because that would be illegal). I’ve always been fascinated by this sort of arrangement. I guess it fits right in with my adoration of a power exchange in which one person is boss and the other is there to, well, let’s just say please.

In my new book, Mob Mistress, Bobby Manghini, a dominant hero with ties to the mafia, feels the same way about that sort of arrangement.

With a mistress, there was an unspoken — or maybe even spoken — business arrangement. The woman received financial benefit in exchange for being available. And he loved holding power over his woman.

Here’s what happens when he’s introduced to Lexi, a hairstylist in financial crisis ( the meeting is in Lexi’s point of view):

“I told her you’d make a good sugar daddy,” Gina said with a smirk.

She felt her cheeks grow warm.  Good God, now he would think she was a money-grubbing, desperate floozy.

The statement only seemed to interest Bobby, though. He turned his attention to her. “Is that so?”

She opened her lips to deny it, but found herself caught in his heated gaze, the appreciative assessment obvious. Forcing herself to exhale, she said, “No, she was only kidding.”

Bobby reached over and grasped the seat of her chair, pulling it forward until her knees came between his.

She gasped at the sudden movement and gave a nervous giggle. “What are you —?”

He made a show of looking her up and down. “Yes, I would definitely say you are sugar baby material.”

Dean and Gina laughed, egging him on.

She looked skyward again. “I feel like a horse at auction. Look, I never said —”

Bobby grinned and took hold of her jaw. “Right! Let’s see those teeth, little pony,” he said, pulling her face toward him. Instead of looking in her mouth, he lowered his face, sweeping his lips lightly across hers. Softer than she expected, they tasted faintly of whiskey. Though she ought to be turned off by being so manhandled, the moment he pulled away, she missed his touch, wanting more.

Her heart rate quickened. Was this actually happening?

Bobby grinned and sat back, releasing her from his scrutiny.

Recovered from her fluster, she gave herself a quick pep talk. What did she have to lose, really? A sugar daddy would solve all her problems, if this was for real. She gave him a seductive look. “Are you in the market for a sugar baby?”

He threw his head back and laughed, a deep, rich rumbling sound that for no known reason made her tingle. “As a matter of fact, I am. But when I take a goomah, I expect her to be at my beck and call, available any time I please.”

She swallowed, her panties dampening at the idea of being his sexual servant. “And what exactly would you offer in return?”

Bobby placed both his hands on her thighs and made little circles around her knees. “Living expenses and spending cash. How does that sound?”

Gina and Dean made enthusiastic murmurings as their eyes locked. Heat pooled in her center core, traveling up until her face grew warm. Her breath rose and fell in a rapid rhythm.

He leaned closer and spoke in a low, rumbling voice, “But you should know, I would use you however I wanted, whenever I wanted. And I would demand fidelity. No other men.”

“What about women?” she asked.

“Only if I get to watch.”

 

Mob MistressMob Mistress blurb

When hair stylist Lexi Tyler finds herself evicted from her apartment, her best friend sets her up with the mobster Bobby Manghini, knowing he likes to play sugar daddy. He offers her a luxury apartment overlooking the city and spending cash every time he sees her, but one thing is clear: he is the bossman.

Lexi soon discovers Bobby backs up his rules with firm, over the knee discipline, but he also takes responsibility for all her problems, giving her more support than she ever dreamed of having from a man

Mobster Bobby Manghini likes to be the man in control, particularly with women, which is why he prefers a mistress for sex, even though he’s no longer married. When he strikes a deal with Lexi to be at his beck and call, he finds in her the full package — a hot, intelligent woman who is turned on by his dominance and willing to submit to his punishment. But when she finds out he doesn’t have a wife, she is hurt by the deception and severs all ties.

Can he prove to her their relationship meant more than a business arrangement? Or will he lose the one woman willing to give him everything he ever desired?

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Renee Rose is a naughty author and kinkster who loves writing about hot alpha males, Dominance/submission and power exchanges. Named Eroticon USA’s Next Top Erotic Author in 2013, her books are all centered around kink, namely: spanking. She also writes BDSM under the name Darling Adams.

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Yes, Sexsomnia is a Real Thing by Madeline Iva

tourbutton_ladysmutIn fact, I wrote a novella all about it.  It’s called ‘Sexsomnia’ and it’s in an anthology called The Lady Smut Book of Dark Desires.  Lady Smut.com is a blog where we talk about all things having to do with sex, love, and erotic romances.

Me? I love sleeping.  Most of us crave more sleep, and we LOVE paintings of women asleep–they seem vulnerable and unable to resist.  There’s something deeply erotic about this condition for us – and I intend to fully exploit this fascination before I’m done.  Of course it has it’s flip side too– it’s scary side.  I mean, in real life there are cases of men drugging women to have sex with the women while they’re unconscious.  Those guys are sick bastards, no mistake.

My stories stay away from that (except when it comes to the real evil villains). When it comes to the heroes and heroines I stay in the more muddled areas of consent—the realm of mistakes and confusion.  After all, if someone who you really wanted to have sex with suddenly came up to you and came onto you – why would you ever assume s/he was asleep?

But it happens.  Yes, dear folks, there’s something called Sexsomnia.  It’s very similar to the kind of thing you see on an airplane when someone takes Ambien and has a bad reaction to it.  Instead of falling asleep, they start doing bizarre stuff.  It turns out their brain is both awake and asleep at the same time.  So with people who actually have sexsomnia (don’t let the fakers fool ya) they end up having sex in their sleep at night.  The next morning they remember nothing—nothing at all.

I mean—I had to write a story about this, naturally.  Sexsomnia also can expose what someone wants deep down inside.  In your sleep those ‘no-i-could-never’ barriers come tumbling down.  In real life, sexsomniacs can wind up in court facing charges for some act they don’t remember.  In my story, deliciously dirty sex ensues.

Poor Jenny—my heroine–is alternatively satiated and tortured for the whole story.  And that’s just  a part of our larger anthology.  Each story has a little edge of shiver in it.  This particular story, Sexsomnia, is the first in a series I’m writing.  In the next story I’m going into the pov of the sex demon that lives inside of Jenny.

Thanks KD, for having me on your blog.  Hope you and your readers check out the excerpt and our blog.  Cheers!

 

HERE’S AN EXCERPT FROM THE STORY:


SEXSOMNIA

By Madeline Iva

 

Chapter 1

 

Her dreams were scalding hot and shameless, leaving her limp and listless by day.

“I’m sorry, what?” Jenny asked the poor woman for the third time.

“I said the machine revealed he kicked his leg sixty times in one hour.”

“In his sleep you said?” Jenny tried to remember the woman’s name.  Nadia.  Jenny had spilled soup all over her in the lunch line, and they’d ended up eating together. Nadia was a sleep researcher.

“Like a dog trying to run in its sleep. Like that.”

Jenny swallowed. “So how do you get to be a sleep subject for one of these studies?”

“Sure, sure, I get that all the time.” Nadia said, waving her fork.  “Everyone’s like, ‘you mean I get paid to sleep fourteen hours a day? Sign me up!’  It’s the secret fantasy of half the adults I meet.”

Jenny was aware she should be putting in face time with her own group, the behavior economics crowd, sitting way at the back of the lunch room.  Only, she’d started to develop a secret revulsion towards them. The tone they used when saying her name creeped her out, for instance. Not to mention the touching.  There was a lot of touching for such a professional setting.

Nadia was saying her love life was in the toilet.  She was stuck in the research lab all night, every night.

“And I was thought there would be men here,” she added. “I mean, single men.” She chewed a sandwich.  “You know, waiting on the park benches.  And you could pick them up, like fruit in the grocery market.” She smiled around her sandwich, eyes twinkling.

Jenny listened sympathetically.  Most of the econ guys were single, but she’d rather poke a fork in her eye than suggest Nadia get close to one of them. On the other hand, she refused to look off to her left where the biology folk sat.

Where Turner sat.

“You’ve got salad dressing on the end of your braid,” Nadia told her.

Jenny wiped it off with trembling hands, her eyes focused on the end of her orange tray.  She was not going to look at where Turner was sitting. The effect was too overpowering.  She could feel his eyes,  sure that he looked all easy-going.  His faded maroon T-shirt, complete with a constellation of moth holes in the back, screamed laid back.  She both envied the way he wore his own skin and half-hated him for being so completely free from self-consciousness.  She was stuck in a body that recoiled from any kind of scrutiny, and when he’d caught her watching him in the lunch line it was bad.  It’d made her crash into Nadia, spilling hot soup and wet salad all over her.  Her face boiled in a blush as she remembered.

“Have you tried the gym?” Jenny suggested.  “I think a lot of the guys go over and work out before dinner.”  She could have reported that the biologist Turner, for example, ran three miles on the track every other day and then did sit ups and tummy crunches.  Not that Jenny was stalking him or anything.

“Ah, that must be it,” Nadia said, unenthusiastically.

“So Nadia,” Jenny said twisting up her napkin in her hands.  “After hearing you talk I’ve been wondering…if I’ve got a sleeping disorder of some kind.”

“Ah.” Nadia put the tips of her fingers together, her light Eastern-European accent thickening a tad. “The doctor is in. What seems to be the problem?”

“I’m sleepwalking maybe? I’m not sure. It’s probably no big deal, right?”

“No, no, now you’ve made me curious. Sleepwalking is rare in adults, actually.”

Jenny launched into her symptoms. She was beyond tired every morning, and it was only getting worse.

“How long has it been going on?”
Jenny told Nadia that it had been really bad at the institute, but she’d been having problems with sleep since spring break.

“So, it’s June, but you’ve been having problems since…April?”

Jenny nodded.  “It’s getting worse.  A lot worse. I mean, I was just tired before, but now I’m waking up and I’m not in my bed.  Also I’ve got rashes or bruises and other marks and I don’t know how to account for them.”   Often she woke with a stiff neck, aching back, sore hips or all three.

Nadia raised her eyebrows.  Jenny skipped over some of the other soreness she occasionally felt.  Mostly, she confessed, she worried about the abrupt shift in demeanor that her colleagues had shown after a few weeks at the institute.   They were all in the same dorm, and she wondered if they were…noticing things.

“What do you mean?” Nadia asked.

“I don’t know.  Maybe if I’m sleepwalking they see me? Maybe they’re just weird.” Jenny was reluctant to go on, but Nadia pressed her.

They were supposed to be writing a group paper, and at the start Jenny had been rather intimidated.  Two senior professors bullied the rest of them—but that was par for the course.  In return for lending their illustrious names to the paper, the senior professors made everyone else do most of the work, while they went off to play golf.  They were not the problem.

“It’s the five other men who make me profoundly uncomfortable,” Jenny confessed.

In the beginning they were dismissive of all her suggestions.  They also made it clear that due to her lack of seniority, her name was going last and she was going to do all the number crunching.

“Basic academic pecking order stuff, whatever.”

Nadia made sympathetic noises.

“That was until two weeks ago.  But since then…”

“What happened since then?” Nadia asked.

Suddenly the econ guys all seemed interested in her in a whole new way.

“It’s like they’re being nice, but it’s too nice.  It’s creepy.  A few of them have started touching me.”
“Touching you!”

“Nothing too gross—it’s like little pats on the arm.  Or even grabbing me around the waist to hug me.” Jenny wanted to crawl out of her skin simply describing it to Nadia.

“They sound fond of you, friendly,” Nadia said. Jenny shook her head. She couldn’t express that it wasn’t what they did, it was the way they did it… their eyes cold, lips smirking.

“And I’m so tired all the time,” Jenny added.  “I’m at the end of my rope Nadia. I told them I used to sleepwalk and asked if they ever noticed me wandering around at night.  This one guy gave me the strangest look.  Then they all started laughing but wouldn’t tell me why.”

“That,” Nadia said, wrinkling her nose, “sounds obnoxious. You think you’re sleepwalking and they’re all laughing behind your back or something?”

“Yes.” Jenny remembered how furious she was when she tried to ask Bonifellow straight out if they were laughing at her for some reason.

What do you mean, Jenny? Why would we do that Jenny? Even the way they said her name seemed overly significant and full of secret meaning.

“Well, I could put you in the lab overnight and we could see,” Nadia said, taking the last bite of her sandwich and wiping her hands. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.”

Nadia nodded, dimpling. “You’ve got such a baby face, I wouldn’t be too surprised by the guys treating you like a student.  You said you have a history of sleepwalking?”

“Yeah. Could that be why I feel so tired?” Jenny explained that on her return from Thailand she’d started feeling exhausted every day and had gone to the doctor—who hadn’t found anything.

“Hmph.”  Nadia was looking more like a scientist by the second, Jenny thought, her dimples and smiles replaced by a look of no-nonsense clinical analysis.

“Wouldn’t want to say until I saw your stats.  But these colleagues are causing you a lot of stress.”

“Yes.”

“Well, stress can disturb your sleep.”

“I guess.” Jenny said, rolling her cherry tomatoes around with her fork.  “It’s just…”

Jenny wasn’t going to share the dreams she was having.  Erotically-charged dreams of a certain biologist stretched out on a narrow twin bed, gripping his magnificent member in his hand.  No shame on his face, just a low lidded stare of promise.

A tap on the shoulder interrupted her thought. The ringleader of their economics group, Bonifellow, stood before them.  He had the dark good looks of Italian heritage meeting Eastern Indian, with a generous splash of super-geek.  Jenny saw Nadia was suddenly sitting up a little straighter and crossing her legs.

She wanted to tell Nadia he was an arrogant dipstick.  He always wore wrinkled white dress shirts and a loosened tie.  The heavy smell of Drak Noir announced his presence about a minute or two before he arrived.

“Introduce me to your friend,” he said.

“Bonifellow,” she said, stabbing her cherry tomato with her fork, not looking up, “this is Nadia.”

She saw the smirking leer he gave to Nadia from beneath her lashes, as if he was God’s gift.  His hand on the back of her chair moved to walk his fingers up her back.  Jenny sat up suddenly, her back arching, and the desire to stab him viciously with her fork almost overcame her.

“Bring her to our table next time, Jenny.”

He smiled and, tipping a mocking salute, he moved on.

“He’s cute,” Nadia said.  Jenny sat in shock at her sudden feelings of snarling impotence.

“I can’t stand him,” Jenny spat.  “That way he smirked at you.” She gave an involuntary shiver again.

“It’s called flirting,” Nadia said.  “Maybe you’re being a little paranoid, yes? Myself, I’m still looking for likely prospects this summer.  What about you? How’s your love life?”

“I don’t know,” Jenny said, bending low over the table, playing with her food. The lunchroom was emptying out. She hung her head even lower over her salad, looking off under her bangs towards the biology table.  Don’t do it.  But she did. Turner and some guy with glasses and a round tender baby face were leaning forward in heavy conversation.  Even so, Turner looked over and stared.  It was not a friendly stare.  You didn’t stare intensely like that at friends.  It was clearly an I want to fuck you stare—one she had no idea how to communicate with.  She looked away, craning her neck in the other direction.

“So tell me more about that econ guy.” Nadia said.  “Single?”

“He’s an asshat, Nadia.”

“Or he’s interested in you.  Clearly you’re a hot prospect.”

Jenny shook her head. “Ugh.”

“Come on,” Nadia cajoled.  “You’re tall, skinny, blonde, and, well…” Nadia waved a hand.

That morning Jenny had emerged from the dorm room in white cigarette jeans and a cute little teaching blouse.  While she was crossing the lounge someone gave a highly inappropriate wolf whistle.  She looked down the hall.  The guys were all there—she couldn’t spot who had whistled, but they were all staring at her.

So she dived back into her room, only to emerge a minute later with a boxy lemon yellow cardigan, a real granny sweater. It was even embroidered with goldfish.

“So are there?”
“What?”

“Any likely prospects in your group?” Nadia pointed her chin at Bonifellow.

“Bonifellow? Ew. No. Anyway, I’m here to work.  This is not economics sex-camp, Nadia.”

Nadia sprayed her milk. Laughing, she wiped her chin.

“Well…actually, there’s this one guy…” Jenny started to confess, slowly.  “We met in the elevator the first day.”

Turner, of course.  He’d been carrying a duffle over his shoulder and a messenger bag slung across his back.  She’d been trying to hold a box of academic files under one arm, along with her suitcase handle, but somehow she kept losing the box as it slipped out from under her arm.  Turner took it from her without asking.  He held it for the rest of the elevator ride.

I’m Turner, he’d said.

It could have been a nice beginning.  She could have said I’m Jenny, thanks for the help. But no. She’d spent the rest of the ride on the world’s slowest elevator her hands sweating, her mind a complete blank.  Then she’d decided to be all feminist and insist she have the box back, that she could carry it and should carry it. She still cringed at the memory, her hands tightening on the lip of the table as she related it to Nadia.

He’d given her a look like she was weird.

Then the elevator door had opened, they both stepped out onto a mezzanine floor, and he gave her the box back.  She’d taken it with one arm and promptly spilled it all over the entire mezzanine area.  He’d helped her clean it up, looking bored.

“Then he asked me if I’d be at the faculty mixer after dinner.”

Jenny had choked out some totally incoherent reply, crammed the papers back in the box, swept it up with her suitcase, and strode away over the bridge that separated his dorm from hers.  But she’d been looking back at him as she did so, so she hadn’t seen the glass door that separated the dorms.

“I walked right into it. Wham! Bruised my nose and everything,” she confessed.

“Oh no!” Nadia laughed.

After bouncing off the door and spilling the files again, she’d heard him call out that he’d see her that night.  At the mixer.  If she got over her concussion.  Finding her assigned room, she’d laid down and grabbed a pillow.  After putting it over her face, she’d pounded her head through it for a few minutes.

When self-asphyxia hadn’t helped, she’d gotten up, washed her face, changed her attire, and went to the mixer.  The room had been incredibly loud with conversation.  Turner had came over to her within ten minutes, and she’d asked him about his research.  She’d only heard about every three words of what he was saying and had tried to fake her way through her replies, acting all nonchalant like everyone else.

He’d leaned his head in towards her every time she talked, sort of a pecking motion, to try to catch her words over the noise.

“What?” he’d asked several times.

“I hate this, it’s so loud,” she’d said.

“Sorry,” he’d said. “Didn’t quite catch that.”

Into a sudden lull in the conversation she’d yelled, “I said I hate this place, don’t you?”

He’d given her an odd look, “Yes, I gave up twelve weeks of my summer to come here. Because I hate it so much.”

After that no one could get a peep out of her.  She’d been on the verge of tears.

“So what happened?” Nadia asked.

“Nothing.”

“No, I mean after.”

“The thing is Nadia, I’ve got no game.” Jenny slapped her hands down on her white jeans, which had an oily soup stain across them now, and stood up.  “I admit it, I accept it, and I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I am probably further ahead in my career than most of my peers—because let’s face it, you can get a lot of work done if you never have a social life.  Fun is a massive time suck.”

“I smell a summer fling,” Nadia said.

“She who smelt it, dealt it,” Jenny said. “I don’t do flings, I’m no good at them.”

“How can you not be good at a fling? That’s ridiculous.  I think you’re over-thinking this stuff.”

“You’re right, I do over-think.  Always. I think if I get involved with Turner I’ll probably want it to go on.  Meanwhile, he lives on the other side of the entire country to me. So how’s that going to work?”
“You don’t know where he lives.”
“He said at the mixer he spends a few months each summer up in Alaska doing field research.”

“What does Turner study?”

“It’s on the tip of my tongue.  It’s a high school mascot.”

“Bears? Eagles?”

“No.”

“Cougars? Wild cats?”

“Some kind of varmint.”

“Wolves? Beavers?”

“Like a muskrat.”

“What sad little high school in America,” Nadia asked, tossing down her crumpled napkin, “has a muskrat for its mascot?”

“My point is, do you realize how expensive airfare to Alaska is these days?”

Nadia crossed her arms to lean in.  “Okay, fine.  But what about the guy that’s been staring at you for the last five minutes across the cafeteria?”

Jenny looked over, and instantly squinched down in her seat, one hand covering that side of her face.

“That’s him,” she hissed.

Nadia made a purring noise.  “The biologist? You didn’t say he was tall and hot. I thought you meant one of those other geeks.” Dropping her voice she said, “You’re crazy not to jump his bones.”

Jenny kept her face hidden.  “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I don’t know how.  I couldn’t get from hello to the bed without making a total ass of myself.”

“It’s sex, Jenny.  If you have to talk your way through it, you’re not doing it right.”

“You make it sound easy, but he’s a strange man, and I absolutely suck at talking to strange men.”

“He’s coming this way.”

“Oh God.”

It was too late to get up and flee.

“Ladies.”

They murmured in response.  Jenny found the pattern on her orange cafeteria tray completely absorbing.

“Jenny.”  She was level with his pelvis and swallowed hard, feeling acutely self-conscious. She knew what his face looked like, but could not seem to force her eyes upwards to meet his.

“Want to introduce me to your friend?”

“This is Nadia.  Sleep disorders.”

“Hello, Nadia Sleep Disorders,” he said, and then looked at Jenny again. She felt his eyes studying her, waiting.  His hair always seemed to need brushing, but the clean, strong lines of a Greek warrior offset his messy hair, just as his broken Roman nose set off the sculpted perfection of the rest of his face.  Together his face and body sent her into a deep primal frenzy.

He was sex on a stick and there she was fizzling and popping in his presence, crushed so hard by shyness that she was helpless, simply helpless, to do or say anything coherent in his presence.

That stare she’d received before was now slightly masked, but only slightly. If he could stare at her like that, why couldn’t he take over the situation and move them along to the post-talking stage so they could enjoy the next part of the adventure? The part that would involve kissing and silence.  And fucking. She’d lied to Nadia.  She’d take a fling with him any day.

She realized she was frowning in alarm as she looked up at him, and made herself stop it and look down again.

“So, Jenny,” Nadia said. “Introduce me.”

“This is…”

She turned away, only to look back up at him completely stricken.

His name had fled her brain.

“This is—?”

He turned to Nadia, obviously pissed. “Turner Michael.  Biology.”

“His name is backwards,” Jenny said to Nadia.  “I told Nadia that you studied varmints.” She wanted to slap herself.  Idiot. Idiot.

“Love these institutes.  Smart ladies everywhere you look.  Yes, I study varmints.” Then he looked down again.  “What are you researching this summer Jenny?”

The paper had been her idea, in fact.  “Five crucial aspects of social reality for the continuance of consumer goods spending.”

A conversation-killing silence met that announcement.

“It’s behavior economics,” she explained slowly, wishing she could crawl under the table and die.
“Sounds fascinating,” Turner said. Nadia choked a little. Jenny blushed hard.

Then she swallowed.  No one said anything.

“So,” Nadia said. A pause hung in the air.  Jenny studied her empty juice glass like it was a precious cultural object in her hand.  Turner seemed to notice her indifference.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt you.  I’ll be on my way then,” he said.  “Just wanted to say hi.”

“Hi,” Nadia said.

“Maybe I’ll see you later,” he said to Jenny softly. Her guts churned over at those words.

He was gone.

Jenny hid her face behind her hand, a fit of fatigue overwhelming her now that all the adrenaline had poured out into her system.

Nadia threw her balled-up napkin into Jenny’s face.

“He is so into you.  And trying so hard to be nice to you.”

“I don’t want nice.  I want to do him.”

“Jenny! Now that’s more like it.”

“I’d also like him to bring up something we both have in common so we can actually have a conversation.”

“Ask him about varmints again.” Nadia giggled.

Jenny smacked her glass on the table.  “I suck.” She tapped her glass in time with her words.  “I. Just. Suck.” She stood up.  “Moving on.”

“Maybe being over-tired is making it hard for you to think on your feet. I’ll help you with that.”
Jenny tilted her head. “I wish, but no, I’m always this pathetic around guys. I tried blaming it on going to an all girl’s school for years, but…”

“I can help you.”  Nadia grabbed her arm and began walking with her out into the steamy green campus.  “This guy I know is bugging me to try a new sleep recording device he’s created.  Let’s do an intake on you at the lab and then we can try it out tonight.”

“Yeah? Oh Nadia—”

“We’ll see what’s going on.  If the device works.”

 

 

Lady Smut Dark DesiresBlurb:

Four sexy paranormal stories to make you shiver with fear and delight.

·     THE IMMORTAL LONGING OF BRENNA BANG, by Liz Everly When a vampire materializes through her computer, successful vampire-romance romance author Brenna Bang finds herself marked for inescapable passion with a tech savvy bloodsucker.

·      THE LYING, THE WITCH & THE WARDROBE by C. Margery Kempe Christina tries to figure out how to unlock her grandmother’s wardrobe and uncover what happened all those years ago when the goblins came to offer their sensuous erotic fruits.

·      SEXSOMNIA by Madeline Iva Jenny needs to unravel the mystery of what she does at night and who she does it with in order to subdue the sexual demon inside her.

·      DIVINE by Elizabeth Shore Locked in an abandoned mental asylum, an ambitious filmmaker soon discovers she’s trapped with a Dionysian god.  He offers her a glimpse of astounding future artistic success—but it will only come true if she’ll perform an erotic ritual to free him.


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Bio: LADY SMUT.com

Lady Smut is a blog for intelligent women who like to read smut.  On this blog we talk about our writing, the erotic romance industry, masculinity, femininity, sexuality, and whatever makes our pulses race.

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D&S Duos Book One by Lisabet Sarai

Passionate woman with shibari posing in studioBlurb

D&S Duos Book 1 combines two of Lisabet Sarai’s hottest BDSM short stories into one sizzling package. In “Body Electric”, a professor of engineering charms his female colleague into experiments on the erotic effects of electricity. In “Limits”, an established Master/slave couple push their relationship to next level of trust – blood sports. Also includes a searing excerpt from Lisabet’s BDSM erotic thriller Bangkok Noir.

Available from: Amazon UK | Amazon US

Barnes and Noble, iTunes, etc. Coming soon.

 

Excerpt

The thing in his hands looked like something from a 1940’s horror film. It had a handle, topped with a mushroom-shaped globe of glass that glowed with a malevolent purple light. Inside the glass, bright sparks danced. Their images flickered on the wall next to the bed.

Slowly, he brought the bulb closer to my bare flesh. The crackling noise grew more intense. He hovered above my nipple. “Don’t move,” he whispered.

All at once a rain of sparks shot from the tube to the taut node of flesh. I was being pierced with a thousand needles. I screamed, as much from surprise as from the pain. Ryan pulled the device away, as I tried to catch my breath.

“Colette?”

“Sorry, Doctor. I wasn’t expecting…” Before I could finish, his mouth was on my recently assaulting nipple, lapping and sucking, soaking my skin with his hot saliva. I felt every movement of his tongue deep in my cunt. When he brought the glowing globe close again, I thought I was ready. This time, though, the sparks were stronger, hotter, more painful. Electricity crawled over my breast, wherever he had left traces of wetness.

Before I could recover, he was sparking my other nipple. I jumped and squirmed. My cunt contracted with each contact. He stroked my stomach. “You’re all sweaty,” he said. The thing sputtered and popped. Miniature bolts of lightning showered down on my navel. “And your thighs are smeared with cunt-juice…” He swept the wand slowly over my body and a long trail of sparks stitched up the sensitive skin toward my gaping sex.

“I’ve always been fascinated by electricity,” he said in a conversational tone as the bulb approached my cunt. I tensed, waiting for the jolt I knew would come. Nothing could have prepared me for the raw sensations. Sparks danced on my clit and sputtered among my wet folds. I screamed again, overwhelmed, confused as to whether I was in terrible pain or close to climax.

My tormenter paused. “I didn’t invent this handy little device, but I’ve made a few modifications. For example, I can turn up the power, or increase the frequency. Or make the variations random. Would you like that?”

All I could do moan.

 

lisabetFaceBrief Bio

LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse. Learn more at http://www.lisabetsarai.com.

Links:

Website: http://www.lisabetsarai.com

Blog: http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/83387.Lisabet_Sarai

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/lisabetsarai

Yahoo group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lisabets_list

 

OUT NOW – A Different Kind of Cosplay by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #erotica #romance #geek

releaseblitzbutton_cosplayBlurb:

Zachary has a dilemma. His girlfriend, Reese, has a special birthday coming up soon and he has absolutely no clue what to get for her. It doesn’t help that Zach does not share or really understand Reese’s biggest hobby—comic books, superheroes and everything that goes with them. Zach raids Reese’s DVD collection for inspiration, and what he finds there gives him an idea…possibly the best one he’s ever had.

Sure, Reese has fantasized about her favorite superheroes. All those muscles and rakish smiles are to die for. She didn’t think Zach would ever really understand, though. But he proves her wrong in the best way possible.

Buy links:

Ellora’s Cave
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
All Romance eBooks
Barnes & Noble
Kobo

ADifferentKindOfCosplayExcerpt:

Zachary sighed at the calendar entry in his phone, which was reminding him for the third time about Reese’s upcoming birthday. And it wasn’t just any birthday—she was going to be thirty.

There were perks to dating a doctor—the uniform was pretty hot, for example—but when that doctor had no particular fondness for jewelry, flowers or chocolates, buying her presents was nigh-on impossible. And because of her work schedule, a surprise weekend away was out of the question. He’d long since learned to always keep the receipts.

Most people get their partners something to do with their hobbies or interests. However, Reese was even awkward in that regard. Her main hobby was so complex that Zach didn’t have the first idea what to get her to do with it—Reese was an uber-geek. Films, graphic novels, collectibles, all that jazz.

Obviously he could just ask what she wanted, then go out and get it, but then it wouldn’t be a surprise. And it was too easy—he wanted her to know he’d really made the effort.

Snoozing the calendar reminder once more, Zach threw the phone onto the sofa, then walked over and started rooting through their combined film collection for something to watch after dinner, which was almost ready. Reese was on-shift at the hospital until silly o’clock, so he had the house to himself and could watch whatever he liked. An action movie it was, then.

Running his fingers along the spines of the DVDs and Blu-rays, he suddenly paused. The Avengers leaped out at him, for some reason. He’d seen snippets of it before, as Reese watched it pretty frequently. The parts he’d seen hadn’t looked too bad, actually. It was essentially an action film, he decided, but with superheroes in it.

He pulled the case off the shelf, an idea beginning to form. Maybe if he watched it beginning to end, he’d seen what drew Reese into that world so much, why she was so fascinated by the films, the graphic novels and so on. Even if he didn’t get it, though, maybe it would still give him some inspiration for a gift. He had nothing better to do that evening, in any case, so it was certainly worth a try.

After putting the disc in the player, he headed into the kitchen to see how his dinner was coming along. A meal in front of the television was the order of the day, it seemed.

A few minutes later, he settled onto the sofa with his lasagna and garlic bread, a bottle of beer on the table next to him. Time for some Avengers action.

Within half an hour, he’d ascertained that the film wasn’t just for geeks. In fact it was easy to see why it had such a wide appeal—the cast was supremely attractive, whatever gender you were into, the plot was interesting and the dialogue seriously witty. He’d already developed quite the crush on the Black Widow, and Nick Fury’s right-hand woman had a lovely pert backside.

Trying to put himself in Reese’s shoes, Zach looked at the male characters. Okay, when it came to this film, straight women clearly had more eye-candy than they knew what to do with. He vaguely remembered a bunch of crazy stuff going around on the Internet about Loki—even the villain of the piece had sex appeal, for heaven’s sake! So much so that it had spilled over into even Zach’s limited social media presence. He barely used Facebook, and he’d never gotten the hang of Twitter. And yet he knew about the rabid fangirls. That was another score for The Avengers, then—truly mass-market appeal. If only there were mass-market gift-buying options.

Sighing, he tried to empty his mind and concentrate on the film. The more he tried to force an idea to present itself, the less likely it would be to happen. He’d just enjoy the entertainment and keep his fingers crossed that his subconscious provided something useful.

Once he’d made the decision, it wasn’t difficult to get sucked back into the narrative. It was engaging, easy-going and fun. Zach surprised himself by thoroughly enjoying the entire thing. Reese would be pleased when the next film came out at the cinema and he offered to go along with her.

He’d keep his new found admiration quiet for now, though. He didn’t want to arouse her suspicions, although she was bound to know he was planning something for her milestone birthday.

The question remained—what the hell could he do or buy to blow her away?

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

 

 

Alice Raine Gives Us an Exclusive Look at the Prologue for SNOWED IN

Snowed In is one of four novellas in Cariad Romance’s Love Under the Mistletoe Collection

Firstly, let me start by extending a massive thanks to KD for hosting me today. It was great fun writing the story for the Christmas anthology, but what was even better was getting to know the other awesome Accent Press writers KD Grace, Demelza Hart and Elizabeth Coldwell (although I already knew Elizabeth – she was the editor of my first book, and the person who ‘spotted’ me and got me signed up! Thanks again Liz!)

For this blog post I thought it might be fun to write a little prologue to go with my story from the anthology, which is called ‘Snowed In’. This wasn’t included in the actual book, so it’s an exclusive FREE chapter! Enjoy!

Alice x

Snowed In

Prologue

loveunderthemistletoeSomething was ringing. And ringing. And ringing. Groaning I rolled over in my cosy duvet den and rammed the heel of my hand down on the alarm clock beside my bed, but it was still ringing. What the heck? Usually a swift whack with my hand did the job, but apparently not today. Blinking my bleary eyes I pushed myself upright and fumbled around in the dark until I found the switch to my lamp. Illuminating my bedroom in the soft glow I picked up the alarm clock and stared at it in puzzlement. It was the school holidays today so it wasn’t even set to go off, but it was still ringing … after a few long, slow blinks my brain became marginally more alert and I finally realised that the alarm in my hand wasn’t the source of the noise. The cheerful trumpeting sounds that was driving me crazy was actually my mobile phone ringtone.

Glancing at the alarm in my hand I frowned, it was 5:34am, who the heck would be calling me at this time? Slamming the alarm down I slithered from the bed, cursed as my feet hit the cold wooden floor, and then looked around for my phone. Conveniently I saw that it was on the dresser by the door right next to where I dumped my slippers the night before. Crossing the room I simultaneously shoved my feet into my warm furry slippers whilst grabbing my phone, clicking ‘answer’ and then lifting it to my ear.

‘…ello?’ My voice was dry and gruff from sleep and barely audible, so I cleared my throat and tried again. ‘Hello?’

There was a symphony of wet, spluttered coughs down the line which caused me to grimace and hold the phone away from my ear before I finally heard someone speaking. ‘Allie?’ Crikey, I recognised the voice as Sarah my best friend, but she sounded even rougher than I had a minute ago.

Shivering I pulled my dressing gown down from the back of the door. ‘Sarah?’ I asked with a frown as I shrugged my arms into the sleeves of the fleece dressing gown.

‘Yeah, hi Allie.’ She croaked.

‘Blimey you sound rougher than a badgers arse.’ I commented as I made my way through the chilly house towards the kitchen. Brushing my hand along the frigid radiator I grimaced – it was so early the heating hadn’t even come on! Sarah better have a seriously good reason for calling this early.

‘I need a huge favour, Allie.’ My best friend whispered in a low gravelly tone which sounded more suited to a porn star than my best friend.

Propping the phone between my shoulder and my ear I clicked the kettle on and lifted down a mug from the cupboard. ‘I kinda guessed that much, you know, seeing as it’s still practically the middle of the night and you’re calling me. Come on then, what’s up?’

‘I’m really sick.’ More coughing resonates down the line, ‘I was wondering if there was any chance you could cover a shift for me today?’ I’m a primary school teacher, Sarah is a house cleaner; they aren’t exactly interchangeable careers are they? As if sensing my hesitation Sarah spoke again, ‘Please Allie, I can’t lose this job. I just can’t.’ she begged with a sneeze. Besides the owner of the house is hotness personified.’ Cough, cough. ‘I can’t remember the last time I saw a guy this good looking. I mean he’s sex on legs. You’ll love it. You’ll love him.’

Closing my eyes I stood for a second, literally able to see my day plan of a Christmas shopping spree disappearing before my very eyes. ‘Please?’ she added beseechingly as I felt my resolve crumbling.

‘I don’t know, Sarah, I’m not exactly a professional, am I?’ I argued weakly, knowing full well that I was going to end up doing this bloody job for her in the end regardless what I said now.

‘It doesn’t matter, it’s just a quick clean round and knock up a casserole. The owner’s away so it doesn’t matter too much.’

My eyebrows shot up and an ironic smile quirked my lip, ‘A second ago you were trying to tempt me with the hot owner, but now you’re saying he won’t even be there!’

There was silence at the end of the line, then a wet sniffle which made me roll my eyes. Sighing heavily I shook my head, ‘Go on then, give me the bloody address.’ I acquiesced reluctantly.

‘Oh my god! Allie! Thank you so much!’ Sniff, sniff, cough. ‘If you … come over I’ll give … you the key.’ Her words were broken up by such loud wheezes and coughs I could almost feel the germs permeating through the phone line and held it away from my ear in disgust.

‘Fine. I’ll be over in an hour.’ I replied with a huff. ‘Hot man or not, you owe me big time for this Sarah.’

*****

To find out if Allie does meet the ‘hot house owner’, read the full story of ‘Snowed In’ which can be found in the Accent press Christmas anthology ‘Under The Mistletoe’ – out now on Amazon!

Amazon UK

Amazon US

 

Alice Tells Us about Alice:

Alice Raine author picWhere to start? I’m really a lot more boring and normal than my steamy books might suggest. It may disappoint some to know that I’ve never had an illicit affair with a domineering pianist, nor have I ever met or dated a man who frequented sex clubs in London… I have however, always had an overactive imagination, which may in part explain where my stories come from! My books may be fiction, but the setting of London was a deliberate choice, I was born and raised in London and as such it holds a special place in my heart which I hope comes across in my writing. Some of my best times have been spent with friends wandering the markets of Camden or sipping beers in Covent Garden.

I moved to Manchester to study, where I ended up living for over ten years. Originally I qualified as an archaeologist, but I soon realised that jobs in that sector were minimal and decided to put my enthusiasm to use by becoming a teacher. Now I split my time between teaching, and engaging my wildly over active imagination by writing. Currently I’m living abroad spending my days exploring, teaching and writing. Where ever I find myself I live with my ever suffering, but hugely supportive husband, our dog and a crazy half-wild cat who keeps the whole household on its toes.

Music is a huge influence in my writing, I listen to everything from Snow Patrol and Linkin Park to Evanescence and REM, in fact, those of you with a good memory for lyrics might even spot one or two lines popping up in my writing as you read. I enjoys writing a wide range of genres including comical real life stories and youth paranormal fantasy, but my first published novels are the adult themed trilogy series ‘Untwisted.’

Find Alice Here:

– Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Alice-Raine/1433662383579684

– Twitter: @AliceRaine1

– Pintrest: http://www.pinterest.com/alice3083/

 

 

 
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The Romance Reviews

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