Tag Archives: erotic romance

The Pet Shop: Free GIFT Again!

If you missed out the first time around, not to worry, because I’m very pleased to announce that Xcite are once again offering a free taste of my critically acclaimed novel, The Pet Shop! The first part of the limited edition Kindle  trilogy, The Gift is available FREE for the next five days on Amazon beginning Wednesday 19th September.  Xcite are very aware of just how addicting Pets can be, Part Two, The Secret Life of Pets, and Part Three, The Taming, are just £.77 each in the UK and $1.19 in the US. The only thing better than a naughty Pet of your very own is a FREE naughty Pet of your very own.  If you want your Pets in an all-at-once, rough and tumble, you can still get the whole package of lusty, kinky Pet fun with the original.

The Gift Blurb:

In appreciation for a job well done, Stella James’s boss sends her a Pet – a human Pet. The mysterious Tino arrives equipped with a collar a leash and an erection, and Stella quickly learns that keeping Pets, especially this one, is extremely addictive. Will a chance meeting with reclusive philanthropist, Vincent Evanston, who looks an awful lot like Tino, but couldn’t be more different, double Stella’s pleasure or just be double trouble?

About The Pet Shop

The Pet Shop is a modern retelling of Beauty and the Beast. In part, the theme of the story is our effort to understand the beast that lives within all of us, to tame it and make it acceptable to polite company. Of course in the taming of anything wild we run the risk of losing that wildness that compelled us to love it in the first place. The Pet Shop explores the effort to find a balance between the two.

I’ve always been fascinated with our animal nature, and I’ve often wondered how much of that nature is ancestral behaviours reasserting themselves and how much of it – especially from the standpoint of the human pet situation I’ve created in The Pet Shop, is simply a need to be loved and adored, and to be able to trust someone enough to give up control to them.

Beauty and the Beast and my retelling of it in The Pet Shop are both about seeing the true nature of a person, with all their flaws and neuroses, and loving them anyway. But ultimately the story is also about trusting enough to allow oneself to be loved, and believing that one is worthy of love, warts, blemishes and all.

Excerpt:

‘I’m sorry, Tino,’ Stella shoved to her feet, tearing her gaze away from the gorgeously horny man sitting on the floor by her chair. ‘But I just can’t do this. If I had known what Anne – what Strigida – had planned for me, I would have never consented, surely Anne knew that. Anyway, I feel really bad that I’ve wasted your time, but this is just not something I can do.’

The pet only looked up at her with adoring and expectant eyes.

‘I’ll gladly give you taxi fare home, of course. I mean that’s the least I can do. None of this is your fault, after all. Anne told me that you were a gift, so I assume you’ve already been paid.’ She raced through the last sentence breathlessly, her face burning at the very thought that the company had paid for a prostitute for her.

Did they really think she was that desperate? And never mind how desperate she was, surely she had worked at Strigida long enough for them to realise this was not the gift for her. And she was bloody well certain Anne knew that. There would definitely be words when she returned from Bath. ‘Is that all right, if we do that? If we just call it even and I get you a cab home?’

Tino made no response. Instead, he rubbed his cheek affectionately against her leg and moved to sit back on his haunches, a position that made his erection look even more enormous, bulging heavily against his thigh. At the sight, her stomach muscles tensed low and tight and her pussy clenched and half convulsed.

‘I forgot,’ she looked down at the manual still gripped in one hand, ‘Pets don’t talk. But since I really don’t want a Pet, couldn’t you break the rules just this once?’

He brushed her leg again with his cheek, then with his lips, making delicious shivers run up her spine.

‘Guess not. OK. Well, I realise this is an awkward situation, Tino, and I’m really sorry about that. I know you’re expected to stay here. I appreciate your position. Really I do. I’m sure we’ll get through this if we work together.’ She nodded down the hall. ‘I have a guestroom. You’re welcome to sleep there. It’s small but comfortable.’ He followed her on silent feet, and looked on as she showed him the guestroom.

‘The closet’s there.’ She pointed. ‘Though I guess you won’t need that. Extra toiletries are on the dressing table there. Those you might need. And the remote for the telly, well it’s a little tetchy. Here let me show you.’ Suddenly she realised he wasn’t paying any attention. His gaze was locked on her – more specifically on her crotch. She blushed hard and forced a smile. ‘Never mind. I imagine you can figure it out if you decide you want to watch telly. Anyway, make yourself at home. Are you hungry? Can I get you something to drink?’

Again, he plopped down on the floor. This time he wrapped his arms around her leg and began to rub his cheek against her thigh.

‘Tino, really. I don’t think I can …’

He made little grunting sounds and shifted his hips forward and back. If anything, his erection seemed still bigger. She suddenly remembered the manual said the Pet Shop kept their Pets horny. Hadn’t Anne said he usually didn’t have to wait this long before he came?

She found herself blushing again at the sight of his heavy hard-on. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how … uncomfortable you must be. I know you’re not allowed to touch yourself unless your keeper gives you permission, and, well, since we can’t, since we’re not going to …’ She nodded to his cock. ‘It’s all right with me if you do what you need to do. You know, for some relief.’ She felt like her face would burst into flames.

For a long moment he looked up at her with his bottomless cinnamon eyes, as though he couldn’t quite comprehend what she wanted of him. Then, slowly, carefully, holding her gaze, he laid a hand against his cock and ran a curled palm up the length of it. A shudder ascended his spine. He threw back his head and released a trembling breath that ended in a deep animal groan at the back of his throat.

Almost before she realised it, she replied with a little whimper of her own that slipped between her lips. Her nipples pearled through the thin silk of her blouse, and her pussy felt slick and giddy. She closed her eyes only for a split second, but the next thing she knew, Tino was standing beside her, so close that her hand, resting low against her belly brushed his cock, and they both gasped at the feel of it. Before she could do more than marvel at the velvety softness that felt like it sheathed granite, he pushed in closer, and his large hand engulfed hers easing it gently against his cock with just enough pressure to encourage her fingers to wrap around the girth of him.

She should have stepped back, she should have commanded him to stay in the room and do what he needed to do and not come out until he was done. But she didn’t. Instead she curled her fingers around him and felt his hand tighten over hers. She expected him to hump like a dog, but he only stepped closer, engulfing her in a feral scent not unlike cat fur on a sunny day.

The shifting of his hips was almost invisible but for the tensing of the muscles low in his hard belly, tightening and lifting until his soft pubic curls just grazed the inside of her wrist. Instead of the blatant sexuality she expected, he simply laid his head on her shoulder, his warm breath raising the fine hair along the back of her neck. His heart hammered a heavy drumbeat that matched her own, and her nipples seemed to be pressing ever forward to get nearer to it.

His free arm encircled her, resting just above her hip, where his hand moved in a gentle caress up and down her ribs, almost tickling. The sensation of it all accumulated warm and heavy just below her belly. The heat of his lips rested close to the pulse of her neck. They were slightly parted, his breath coming in fast little puffs.

She knew she should be pushing him away, making him bend over for the spanking a misbehaving Pet deserved. She hadn’t asked him to touch her, and she hadn’t volunteered her services. ‘You’re a very naughty Pet, Tino.’ She barely managed to gasp before he tensed, and a strangled groan escaped his throat just as his cock twitched and she felt the silky slick heat of his come spill over both of their hands and against his bare belly. Then his whole body convulsed, and involuntarily he pulled her tight against him, an act which sent her into her own convulsions. She let out a startled cry. She hadn’t expected to come. She hadn’t intended to come, and yet there she stood quivering out her pleasure against the Pet, who held her in a powerful, sex-stimulated bear-hug.

From Amazon.com

The Gift

The Secret Life of Pets

The Taming

From Amazon.co.uk

The Gift

The Secret Life of Pets

The Taming

 

Dianna Hardy Shares the Story Behind The Witching Pen Novellas

It’s my pleasure to welcome the delicious Dianna Hardy to A Hopeful Romantic today to share with us the story behind her exciting Witching Pen novellas.

Book One: The Witching Pen

Book Two: The Sands of Time

Book Three: The Demon Bride

It started with a domain name. Yes, seriously: thewitchingpen.co.uk

That’s how it began. I bought it three years ago when I was publishing my first ever book (in paperback – I knew nothing of eBooks then): a collection of poetry that I had spent my life writing sporadically.

I knew poetry wasn’t going to be all that I wrote, so I wanted a domain name that I could use for my website that would be flexible enough to encompass other genres, including the spiritual / occult books that I occasionally bring out.

As the months went on, I began to write erotic fiction. (That’s how I discovered eBooks.) That developed into paranormal romance, which in turn included hot urban fantasies… and now I truly am multi-genre, because, for the life of me, I can’t choose just one genre – I need to write anything I please at any given time!

DiannaHardy.com became my domain name, and thewitchingpen.co.uk became defunct.

But I liked that domain name – I couldn’t just give it up! And suddenly, just like that, the idea for The Witching Pen fell into my lap; out of the sky, or so it seemed. What if you really did own a pen that was witchy and magical, and that pen could do great things? What if it was mightier than the sword? Would you use it for good or for bad?

I had the plot, now I needed characters. I had the idea of a very strong, street-smart heroine wielding this pen to start with, but it didn’t work – not at all. And as I wrote her, within the first chapter, she morphed into this sweet, kind and innocent witch, who could appear meek to those who didn’t know her well, but who carried unrivalled power through her bloodline, and, unbeknownst to her, through a pen she happens to find one day: The Witching Pen.

Enter her best friend, Karl, the boy next door who she’s always loved – who has always loved her – who she can never be with because of a ‘curse’ that ensures she will lose her powers to any man she ever sleeps with … My God! I had book one! I had a paranormal romance.

From that point, the writing took on a life of its own, the characters became … real … (almost) and I never looked back. Books two and three tumbled out of me; sometimes with ease and sometimes through sweating blood and tears. But that is the nature of this series: it is easy, but hard; it is light, but dark; it is trust and betrayal; it is a test of the self.

In short: The Witching Pen began as a domain name intended to represent me and my writing, but it became a paranormal romance series that tested me and my writing; tested it in wonderful, beautiful and torturous ways. It truly is magical to me, how one can start with just a word; just a sentence … and it grows, and grows, and a year later, you have a trilogy that – thank God – most readers so far have fallen in love with.

To me, The Witching Pen will always be just that: a tool that somehow weaves magic with words. And I don’t always know if I’m the magician, or just the observer.

The Witching Pen Novellas are available in digital format, with the first trade paperback having been released in April. All info and buy links can be found on the series website The Witching Pen Novellas.

 Thanks so much to K D Grace for taking the time to host me on her blog.

 Book Promo Spotlight: The Demon Bride, by Dianna Hardy

The Demon Bride (Book Three of The Witching Pen Novellas)

Preceded by Book One and Book Two.

Two thousand and eleven years after the birth of the Failed One, the Witching Pen will be made manifest on Earth by the Great Shanka Witch of the Old Scrolls. By her hand, the Earth will rumble and shatter, and all dimensions will bleed into one.

The true purpose of the Witching Pen has been revealed, and it must be destroyed before an apocalyptic prophecy comes true. There’s just one problem — the Pen is indestructible.

As everyone searches for much needed answers, Elena lays down plans for a radical mission to save her mother from the Shanka’s shadow world.

Meanwhile, Mary has finally discovered who she really is, and what that means for the human race.

What Mary doesn’t know, is that Gwain has been searching for her for over ten thousand years, and had lost all hope of finding her. Now that he has her, he’s faced with an impossible choice: does he save the woman who altered his very existence, or does he sacrifice her to save mankind?

eBook available NOW!

Amazon US   Amazon UK   Smashwords

View the whole series at the series website.

EXCERPT

Prologue

Her fingernails dug into his wrist, as her scream pierced the air.

“God damn it!” he cursed. “Don’t you let go of me – don’t let go!”

But this was a battle they were both losing. The pulsing abyss beneath her was relentless, swallowing everything too close to it, like some ominous, living black hole, and she was more than too close to it – she was dangling above it, her feet touching the hungry darkness.

Terror gripped her – an unforgiving fear she’d never known, and she’d known a lot of fear.

For a second, exhaustion took her over, and her fingers slipped a little.

“No!” he shouted, and squeezed his hand in a tighter vice around her wrist. His other hand – the left one – was buried in the earth. He had pegged himself into it in an attempt to stop their forward movement. He had his legs entwined around a tree trunk, but the tree was now coming up at the roots, bowing to the force of the suction. Every muscle in his body was straining, bulging unnaturally – she wondered if he’d ripped any yet. Hell, he was strong – but not strong enough.

She looked up, forcing her head to move against the pull of the abyss, and met his eyes. Steely grey, and usually so steady, they were now marred with panic and anger. But still he held her gaze, and still – despite the horror of what was about to happen – she found a semblance of peace within his presence.

“Let me go,” she whispered.

Her answer was a tenacious growl.

“It’ll pull you in if you don’t. It doesn’t want you, it wants me. Let me go.”

He tightened his hold on her.

Damn it! She won’t risk him. Not now, not ever.

She spoke to him in the Old Tongue. “I’m not supposed to be here – it was always going to be this way.”

Determination hardened his features.

My God, he’s stubborn.

“I love you,” she whispered, and let the truth of her words touch him, seep into him, through the all-consuming connection they shared – one which she suspected was about to be ripped to shreds.

He was momentarily stunned at the weight behind her words. She had him off-guard, and in that split second, with a strength she didn’t know she possessed, she brought her left hand up, fighting against the vacuum with all she had, and tore into his cheek with her nails.

Startled, his grip loosened, and it was enough.

She yanked her right hand out of his.

His look of shock quickly turned to one of both rage and desperation when he finally realised what she’d done.

Blood seeped through the cuts on his cheeks. Her own face stung in response.

“Forgive me,” she pleaded. “You mean too much to me.”

Tears welled in his eyes.Tears? Oh, no, m’angeal, don’t cry. I’m not worth your tears.

“I’ll find you, I swear it,” he choked out.As the abyss closed up around her, she uttered a prayer, and she had no idea whether she was praying that he would, or that he wouldn’t.

Chapter One

Mary jolted awake, then moaned as the pounding in her head dominated all her senses. A nightmare? No. This pounding felt like normal pain – the kind you had when you hit your head, not the type of pain that seared her during her nightmares.

What had woken her up? A dream? But she didn’t have dreams – not normal dreams, anyway…

She tried to grasp at it and failed, the throbbing in her skull preventing her from going in too deep.

And she was hot – too hot – baking hot.

Where the fuck am I?

And far too quickly, she remembered her encounter with the monster in the prison, and being dropped into the hole in the ground. A portal of some kind? The memories rushed at her – they came so quickly, she thought she might puke. Ugh. She remembered being thrown down and cracking her head on the cement.
Shit. She hoped she didn’t have concussion.

Gingerly, she tried to move and realised that something was crusted onto the left side of her face, which smarted big time – she guessed it was her blood. Her face felt mangled. She must have done it when she’d cracked her head. A glance down at herself told her she was naked. That meant she’d been undressed.

Fuck.

She mentally assessed her body, trying to figure out if she’d been messed with in any way. It felt the same as usual, apart from her arms. Looking up with effort, she could see that her hands were tightly secured above her head in metal cuffs, each attached to a stone wall by short, linked chains.

She gave her hands a little wriggle. Pins and needles shot down to her elbows, which ached. She winced. Could this be any worse?

“She awakes,” came a voice, low and soft, to her right.

It just got worse.

Excerpt copyright © Dianna Hardy, 2012. All rights reserved.

Dianna Hardy is a multi-genre author of paranormal things, dark things, poetic things, sexy things, taboo things, and sometimes funny things.She writes about witches, demons and angels. All info about her books can be found on her website DiannaHardy.com

Finding Wood

Autumn is right on the door step, the days are getting shorter, so in honour of the summer we almost had this year in Britain, here’s the third, and final installment to my filthy fun al fresco extravaganza, K D style. The great outdoors has always inspired me to write all manner of naughtiness. And nothing is more deliciously naughty in the summer heat that a little skinny dipping, especially when it’s done with just the right companion. This hot little excerpt is from my novel, The Pet Shop, which just goes to show sometimes you can’t see the forest for the Pets. Enjoy!

Blurb:

In appreciation for a job well done, STELLA JAMES’s boss sends her a Pet for the weekend – a human Pet. The mischievous TINO comes straight from THE PET SHOP complete with a collar, a leash, and an erection. Stella soon discovers that the pleasure of keeping Pets, especially this one, is extremely addicting.

Obsessed with Tino and with the reclusive philanthropist, VINCENT EVANSTON, who looks like Tino, but couldn’t be more different, Stella is drawn into the secret world of The Pet Shop. As her animal lust awakens, Stella must walk the thin line that separates the business of pleasure from the more dangerous business of the heart or suffer the consequences.

Excerpt:

Stella fumbled with the spare pare of binoculars Vanguard had lent her, giving herself a hearty knock on the nose before she managed to get them focused. Her stomach did a flip-flop, then a pirouette. Even with her unsteady hand and the thud-thud of her heart making the scene tremble in front of her eyes, she knew she was looking at Tino, who was looking right back at her. She caught her breath ‘You’re sure that’s Vincent Evanston?’

‘Of course I’m sure. I’ve worked with the man often enough. Helluva naturalist.’

The butterfly dance in her stomach had moved up into her chest to do a mad mambo with her heart and suddenly she had to know. ‘Excuse me.’ She threw open the door. ‘I’m sorry but I have to go. I really need to talk to him.’

‘Wait! You can’t get out there dressed like that.’

She slammed the door on Bob’s objections and went slip-sliding across the road toward the man in the wood. Her kitten heels sunk in the pale mud with each step she took. On the other side of the road she found herself faced with a ditch full of fast-moving rainwater. It wasn’t that wide, she could have jumped it easily enough in trainers, but she wasn’t in trainers. She found purchase on a mossy rock and struggled to balance on the ball of her foot, but the rock slipped and turned beneath her sending her teetering with arms flailing before she sat down hard in the middle of the icy flow.

The gasp for breath and the high pitched yelp barely passed her lips before he was on her, grabbing her beneath the armpits and pulling her to her feet with a heavy slurp and  splorsh from her skirt, which seemed to be acting like a sponge. He half-dragged, half carried her to dry ground and plopped her down unceremoniously on a mossy log. His curled fingers lifted her chin until her eyes met Tino’s dark gaze. ‘You scared the hell out of me. Are you alright?’ Tino speaking would have been shocking enough but Tino speaking with an American accent just seemed wrong somehow. She nodded, unable to reply.

He already had his Blackberry out. ‘Bob, yes she’s fine. No, don’t worry, I’ll take care of her. Go on back to the hide.’ He slapped the blackberry back in his pocket and turned his full attention on Stella. This time it was not concern that filled his eyes.

‘What the hell were you thinking, out in the woods dressed like that?’

She was already shivering from the cold and the wet. ‘Guess the Great Outdoors isn’t my forte.’ She offered an apologetic smile.

‘Come on.’ He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘My pack’s under those trees. Let’s get you into something dry before hypothermia sets in.’ But when she stumbled and nearly twisted her ankle in her now filthy mauve shoes, he cursed under his breath and lifted her as though she were weightless, causing her to gasp surprise as he turned on his heels and headed back toward the pack.

She threw her arms around his neck and hung on tight, smelling wood smoke in his hair and on his plaid shirt, a smell that made her pussy tighten at thoughts of making love to him in the light of a campfire. They didn’t have far to go, just in the protection of the trees. There he eased her down on huge stump and thrust a steaming cup of cocoa into her hand from a flask he’d dug out of a rucksack big enough that he could have used it for a tent. ‘Drink this. It’ll help warm you till I can sort out something dry for you to wear.’ He turned his broad back to her and began to dig through the pack.

She was trembling hard enough that is was an effort not to spill the cocoa. ‘You’re Tino, aren’t you?’ She spoke between chattering teeth.

His back stiffened slightly, then relaxed again as he continued to dig. ‘I’m Vincent.’

She sat the cup down next to her and hugged her arms around her shivering body. ‘I know you’re Vincent, Vincent Evanston, but you’re Tino. I mean he’s you, isn’t he?’

He turned on her, grabbing her shoulders so quickly that she feared he would shake her. Instead, he began to chafe her arms, his dark eyes locked on hers. ‘I told you, Tino’s not here.’

‘But I — ’

He swallowed up her words in an open-mouth kiss, taking her breath away, taking away her ability to think with the heat of it, the expressive depth of it. He bit her lip as he pulled back, still holding her gaze. ‘Tino’s not here,’ he repeated. His voice held the tiniest edge of warning. Then, as though it were business as usual, he bent and removed her shoes. ‘You’re lucky you didn’t break an ankle in these.’ He tossed them onto the ground and wiped his muddy hands on his trousers. ‘Afraid I don’t have an extra pair of shoes with me. Now lift your butt.’

‘What?’

He nodded to a non-descript wad of clothing now sharing her stump. ‘It’s not elegant, but it’s dry, now lift your butt. Or,’ the weight of his gaze was nearly physical, causing her heart to hammer and jerk like it was trying to get closer to him, or maybe run away from him, ‘if you’d rather I can turn my back and let you do it.’

She released her breath slowly and lifted her arse off the stump, an act, that in itself seemed lewd. He pushed open her jacket with warm hands and shoved up the edge of her silk blouse to unzip her skirt, exposing a swath of her belly just above her navel. Then he curled his fingers around the waist of the skirt, catching the elastic of her knickers as well, and shimmied both down over her hips. His hands skimmed the lacy tops of her hold ups, and for a second, she forgot about the cold. She reached out and raked her fingers through his unruly hair.

His breath caught in his chest, and he lowered his head to plant a warm kiss just below her navel, lips burning on her icy skin. Then he pulled away all businesslike. You’ll get hypothermia. You’re cold.’ The rush of his hot breath brushed her belly, causing goose flesh to tiptoe up her spine.

She had little control over the trembling that gripped her body from the cold, and yet her insides squirmed with want as he inched the skirt down over her thighs leaving her hold-ups in place. ‘Please,’ she gasped between chattering teeth. How could she be so damn cold and so hot at the same time. ‘I need…I need.’

‘I know what you need.’ His voice was tight, accented by the heavy drag of his breath, much heavier than the expended efforts demanded. His dark eyes were clouded with a cocktail of emotions too complex for her to translate in her discomfort, but there had to be some anger and maybe some concern in the mix. The second kiss chased the descent of her skirt, lighting fast and humid on the apex of her gash searing hot against the damp chill of goose flesh, just above the place where her clit roused itself from beneath its hood. The delicious steamy shock of it unbalanced her and she dropped back onto the stump, her bottom settling into soft moss and her elbow sending the cocoa cup clattering into the fragrant pine straw.

He dragged her skirt down and shoved at it as though it had offended him somehow until it was in a heap around her ankles. Then he eased her left leg free, lifted it so her foot rested on his shoulder splaying her crotch for his hungry gaze. ‘I’m wet,’ she sighed.

‘You fell in a ditch.’ His fingers traced a ticklish path up the inside of her thigh above the hold-ups.

She squirmed and arched her back. ‘That’s not what I mean.’

‘I know what you mean.’ Hi words were short, clipped. He slid a thick finger between her heavy folds causing a sharp intake of breath. Then he rose to take her mouth again, forcing her leg forward, knee bent to press her thigh against her breasts making her pussy gape like a begging bird, making her bare down into the pillow of moss. ‘Please,’ she gasped. ‘I need … ’

He held her in his weighty gaze. ‘I know what you need,’ he repeated. With his free hand, he fought his trousers like they were the enemy until they were down around his hips, and in her peripheral vision she could just make out his heavy penis straining toward her before he pushed into her with a grunt sending shock waves up through her at the sudden invasion that filled her too full for comfort, yet felt way too good to be pain.

He gathered her to him and began to thrust. There was no preamble, no foreplay, just driving hungry need. She hooked her legs around him and held on for dear life, growling and grinding, feeling like she would split in two with the each pounding. And yet she wanted nothing more than to live for the next thrust. It was as though her whole world contacted to thrusting and shoving and trembling. She was freezing and burning and grasping, and he was pushing her, more quickly than she would have ever imagined, to complete overload.

The Pistoning of his body raked the swell of her clit raw as he drew nearer his release. And when at last he overwhelmed her, she threw back her head and howled as her orgasm raged like fire melting ice. Only a split second later he convulsed and jerked on top of her.

For a few minutes they lay sprawled on the stump together catching their breath. Then, at last he pulled out, and it was as though nothing had happened. Avoiding her gaze, he cleaned them both with the large blue bandana he’d been wearing around his neck, then he tossed her a pair of grey track suit bottoms with a draw string. ‘Put these on. We need to get you someplace warm.’ He packed up his rucksack while she struggled into the bottoms, then he threw her a hooded sweatshirt. He tossed her muddy shoes into a waterproof bag and shoved it in the top of rucksack, just before he hoisted it onto his back. Then he lifted her in his arms again.

‘What are you doing?’ She breathed. ‘You can’t carry me to your house.’

He nodded behind him as a dark blue Jeep pulled up and parked inconspicuously by the side of the road, not far from where she had tried to cross. ‘I have no intention of carrying you to my house. George will take you back to your hotel.’

Madeline Moore’s Long Journey to Pretty as a Porn Star

It’s my pleasure to welcome the marvellous Madeline Moore to A Hopeful Romantic today to talk the long road to completion of her exciting new petite novel, Pretty as a Porn Star, and the long road to getting there.

Hi KD and faithful followers of The Story Behind the Story.

Now, you might think the process of taking a book called Pretty As A Porn Star from conception to completion would be quick and easy. But this particular project took years to come to fruition. We have to go back, way back, to 2009.

My novel, Sarah’s Education, was about to be published by the Virgin imprint Black Lace when Random House purchased the parent company. I was now a Black Lace/Virgin/Random House author.

It was high time to start working on my next novel proposal. I’d read a piece in Scarlet Magazine about an ordinary housewife who purchased a strap-on dildo and was instantly transformed into a man-slamming Dominatrix.

In no time, she had quite a collection of videos. The budding porn star convinced her admirably accepting husband to quit his job and help her launch a porn site. At the time of the story, they were making love, making movies, and making money.

The editor of Black Lace, Adam Nevill, and I were batting the concept back and forth when the axe fell. Sarah’s Education was one of the last Black Lace novels to be published.

Some of you may know that I live with Felix Baron, author of Nexus novels like Sweet as Sin and (my favourite) The Persian Girl. Naturally I collapsed with the vapours. We were doomed!

Maxim Jakubowski began discussions with Felix about an offer the publishing house John Blake had made to him: a limited number of crime novels to be published under the Imprint MaxCrime. We pitched an outline and landed a contract. It was fun. Instead of counting sheep to get to sleep at night, I began a body count that included the injured and the dead. I believe the total was 17.

MaxCrime granted us a reprieve that lasted just long enough for our ex-editor Adam Nevill to invite us to join him in a new, digital-only Imprint from the publisher Harper-Collins. Felix and I fumbled at our keyboards, each eager to be the first to say “Yes.”

We were new to digital but we’d read that e-readers like novellas, so we decided we’d each do a petite novel for Mischief.

I had a short story to toss into The Swap and the PAAPS idea (not my favourite acronym ever, although possibly my favourite title) on file. Somewhere it had morphed into the story of film students making money shooting personal videos for select clients.

Adam and I batted PAAPS around some more, tossing Felix the occasional hard ball (Gee, there’s something I never thought I’d type) and it became the love story of Emily and Luke, two film students struggling through their final year of University and wondering, ‘What’s next?’

This is the first time my main characters are madly in love as the story begins. They need to be to survive the experience of spearheading a porn production company comprised above and below the line entirely by students. (Above and below the line is film speak. It means: Executive Producer, Producers, Director, Writer, and Talent – Above the line.

First Assistant Director, Second, Camera, Sound and Crew – Below the line.)

Now why would a gang of film students suddenly start making porn at the end of their tenure in the great halls of academia? Hmm. Because their fees go up, of course!

And there you have it. Three years later, the phoenix that rose from the fire, Madeline Moore’s petite novel Pretty As A Porn Star.

In this excerpt sweet li’l Emily has evolved into a barking Executive Producer for whom the bottom line is product and profit. Luke, up until recently a sensitive film director, has reluctantly helped secure a cougar for a future shoot and is now pressed into service when Emily orders him and Paul to haul ass down to the student demonstration. Marion, Luke’s ex-Friend-with-Benefits, has just phoned in an order to shoot a public fuck for public consumption.

Excerpt:

Luke and Paul stopped at the edge of the crowd. The cacophony of voices, some amplified by megaphones in the classic call-and-response that invited the agitated students to chant in unison, was almost overwhelming.

‘One, Two, Three, Four. We can’t afford to pay no more!’

A police whistle blew and a rowdy protester was captured by cops. The crowd roared its disapproval.

Luke raised the camera. ‘Marion was right about this. It’s wild.’ He shot the protester, who had gone limp, being dragged off to a police van. ‘Don’t get caught, man. I think fucking in a public place might be against the law.’

‘I’m not going be doing any Marion-fucking, my friend.’

‘Huh?’

Paul shook his head. ‘I’m on her no-fly zone. It’s in our files.’

‘Fuck. Emily doesn’t even look at the files anymore. She just tells everyone what she wants and expects them to hop to it. Goddam it!’

‘Sorry man. So, I shoot, you fuck.’

Luke made a split second decision. ‘OK. Here.’ He handed Paul the camera. ‘It’ll be fast and dirty. I’m gonna make a beeline for that sexy bitch and she sure as hell better have her panties off when I get there.’

Paul steadied the camera on his shoulder. ‘At least there’s a lot of press here.’

‘Yeah, maybe if we’re real lucky we’ll make the six o’clock news.’ Luke glowered.

‘I mean I’ll blend right in. I hope.’ Paul flashed Luke another grin. ‘Ready?’

‘I’m more than ready. Stay close, dude. I’m gonna fuck her up the ass until she passes out from pleasure.’

‘Whoa! I’m right behind you! Rolling!’

Luke started through the crowd. His blood was boiling. Little Emily who couldn’t take more than a pinkie up her bum without crying like a Vestal fucking virgin had whored him out again. Without so much as a ‘would you mind, Luke?’

‘Sorry,’ he muttered as he trod on someone’s foot. ‘Man on a mission.’

As a matter of fact, Luke didn’t mind at all. He hadn’t had anal sex since he’d given up fucking for making love with someone so sweet he’d thought he could live without a butt fuck for the rest of his life, if he had to. But ‘sweet’ no longer described Emily. So, if she wasn’t willing to give a man what a man wants, a man, a real man, would get it somewhere else.

The thought of sinking his dick into Marion’s eager asshole was so enticing he was practically running. Paul had better keep up because he sure as hell wasn’t slowing down.

She was easy to spot. Her hennaed head of riotous curls stood out even in a crowd as large and rowdy as this one. Just as she’d said, she was pressed up against the barricade, chanting along with the rest of the crowd. She’d be singing a different tune in a couple of minutes.

Marion didn’t so much as look to see who it was that suddenly grabbed her from behind. She just tilted her ass back, inviting ‘a stranger’ to do whatever he wanted.

He unzipped his pants and flipped up her full, short skirt, exposing her bare ass for a flash. Luke gripped his dick, dipped his knees and jammed his raging hard-on up her ass. No fuss, no muss.

Marion gasped. She froze, both hands gripping the barricade to keep her balance as her assailant rammed the full length of his rod inside her.

‘Atta girl,’ he whispered. ‘Take my great big dick up your ass like the anal slut you are.’

‘What the hell!’ Marion enunciated as best she could, given the circumstances. Obviously, she was doing her part to make sure their dialogue didn’t get lost in the roar of the crowd. ‘Who the fuck are you?’

‘None of your business.’ Luke, taking his cue from Marion, spoke as clearly as he could and as loudly as he dared. ‘What the fuck difference does it make, bitch? I’ve got what you want. Admit it.’

He pushed harder, jamming her up against the barricade and burying his dick another quarter inch inside her.

‘I want it!’

She knew who it was. He was sure of it. Luke’s memory was flooded with images of Marion and him fucking each other’s brains out. It’d been so easy. So goddam fucking easy. And so much fucking fun.

‘Diddle your clit if you want to come because I don’t give a fuck if you do or not.’

One of Marion’s hands dropped from the barricade. She wriggled it down between the barricade and her body and slid it under the hem of her skirt. She swayed a little.

Now that Luke was inside her both hands were free. He kept one on her shoulder and grabbed the railing of the barricade with the other.

‘Christ,’ he hissed.

‘What the hell?’ A shocked voice let him know they’d been spotted. No time to waste.

‘Hey!’ This voice came from the other side of the barricade. The cops would be on him in a moment. He didn’t care. If they tried to drag him off he’d drag her with him. They’d have to hose the two of them down to separate them now.

Marion moaned. ‘Oh my God . . . ’

Luke fucked her hard and fast. It was heaven to be inside her tight, hot little asshole. It was . . . it was . . . almost too much . . .

‘Fuck!’ The first spurt of come seemed to be sucked from his whole body, from his firmly planted feet to the top of his head.

She whimpered. ‘I’m gonna come. Don’t stop. Please . . . I’m coming right fucking now!’

Her cunt contracted so violently her tunnel squeezed the length of his prick and he spurted again and again and again and again . . .

Luke sunk his teeth into the back of her neck, like a mutt claiming its bitch. It was the only way he could keep from howling.

‘Po po,’ muttered a voice behind him. Right. Paul.

Here came the long arm of the law.

But it didn’t matter. Luke was done. He pulled out, zipped up and took off. He didn’t know if Paul was behind him or had kept his camera on Marion. He didn’t know and he didn’t care. At the moment, he didn’t even care if Marion was getting lost in the crowd or dragged off to the cop van. He was free and that’s all that really mattered.

Free.

* As of this writing Black Lace is back and Mischief is thriving. Madeline Moore eagerly anticipates a bidding war between Random House and Harper-Collins for her upcoming novel, Vanilla Valentine. She also eagerly awaits Santa Claus. Not necessarily in that order.

** For those who care, this essay (excerpt excepted) is written in Canadian English.

Buy Pretty As A Porn Star:

http://www.mischiefbooks.com/  (I’m on the front page! Go now!)

http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=node%3D341689031&field-keywords=pretty+as+a+porn+star&x=0&y=0

Coming soon to Amazon.com and Amazon.ca but if you need something to tide you over, you can buy Felix Baron’s petite novel Look At Me! at Amazon’s Kindle store. Just search for Mischief Erotica and scroll through the titles. The gang’s all here!

Visit my blog and blow my mind:

http://moremadelinemoore.blogspot.ca/

Find me on Facebook:

http://www.facebook.com/madeline.moore.906

Tweet me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/MsMadelineMoore

Or, you know, just leave a comment here! Thanks KD! You’re a gracious hostess, indeed.

Xoxo Mad

Madeline Moore writes contemporary, paranormal and fantasy erotica. In another guise she has co-authored one crime novel and is a produced screenwriter. Madeline is Felix Baron’s fiancée!

Filthy Fun Al Fresco, in which All Goes Swimmingly

In honour of the summer we almost had this year in Britain, here’s the second installment to my filthy fun al fresco extravaganza, K D style. The great outdoors has always inspired me to write all manner of naughtiness. And nothing is more deliciously naughty in the summer heat that a little skinny dipping, especially when it’s done with just the right companion. This hot little excerpt is from my Mischief novella, Surrogates. Enjoy the heat.  And the wet.

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.

Excerpt:

Simon yanked his mobile from his pocket, and Francie came to his side. ‘Is it from Dan?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘He’s not coming.’

‘What do you mean, he’s not coming?’ Francie grabbed the phone away from him and read:

            Must cancel. Have an emergency meeting. Will make it up to you.

She handed the phone back to Simon and sat rigid on the edge of the love seat. He could see her pulse hammering in her neck. He could see the rise and fall of her throat as she swallowed hard. But there were no tears.

‘I should go then,’ he said softly.

She didn’t reply, only sat there without looking at him.

‘I can’t make it tomorrow. I’m in Guildford all day.’ He could smell her, like he could smell lavender in a garden at high summer long before he could see it. The smell of her sex he had memorized from the very first time he held her in his arms, but the rest of her scent had unfolded itself to him more slowly. The smell of outdoors was always on her, the smell of earth, the smell of clean female sweat. All of it, the whole of her, the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed, the cadence of her breath, the heat radiating from her body, all of those things, settled around him tight-fitting and raw. ‘I need to go,’ he said again, resting a hand on the curve of her shoulder.

‘No you don’t. You don’t need to go.’ She shrugged off his hand, popped up off the love seat and headed out the door of the summer house at a fast trot, leaving her garden shoes behind.

Still barefoot himself, he followed her across the warm grass out past the rose garden, down over the hill into the mini wilderness that would become the Renaissance garden, and down to the deep pool at the edge of the stream. She undid the tie at the side of her dress and shrugged it off without breaking pace, stepping out of her thong and giving it a toss before she moved into the calm deep of the water, then dived under. For the tiniest fraction of a second, he feared she might mean herself harm. But she surfaced before he could even get his T-shirt off. She floated with her head back and the tips of her nipples breaking the surface. ‘Well?’ she called out. ‘Are you coming or not? You can swim, can’t you?’

‘Of course I can swim.’ He stripped off and stepped into the bright glare of the water. He was already erect, and her watching him did nothing to ease the pressure. ‘You know what’ll happen if I catch you?’ he said, nodding down to his cock.

She swam towards him in an easy crawl stroke. ‘You’re assuming you’ll have to catch me,’ she said, and then she dove. It wasn’t until he felt a tug on his hips and her mouth tightening around his cock that he figured out what she was up to.

‘Jesus,’ he gasped as she cupped and gently squeezed his balls. His feet were just barely touching ground. She seemed to be slowly pulling him with the nips and tugs of her mouth deeper and deeper until he had to tread water to keep his head from going under, careful not to kick her as he did so. And still she didn’t surface.

‘Francie,’ he grunted. ‘Francie don’t stay down too long.’ But fuck, it felt so good, it felt so dangerously out of control as she sucked his cock then cupped his buttocks, then fingered his anus. Damn it! He wanted to bear down, he wanted to thrust, but the water held him in precarious weightlessness, and still she sucked and fondled. ‘Oh God, Francie! Good Christ, Francie please.’

One finger was buried knuckle-deep in his arsehole while the other hand kneaded his balls right on the border between pain and pleasure. And her mouth! Fuck, her mouth had him gripped and sucked in a tight wet paradise with her tongue flicking over the underside of his cock, and still she didn’t surface.

‘Francie… Francie enough!’ He grabbed her under the armpits and hauled her up. She surfaced enough to take a deep drag of air then she took his mouth, pulling him under in the process. And she held him there, her mouth on his, tongue darting, teeth nipping, gulping at him, and he gulped back even as his lungs cried out for oxygen. And just when he thought he’d have to manhandle her into shallow waters, she gave a powerful kick, moved into position, wrapped her legs around him, and his cock slipped into her tight grip just as his feet touched solid ground and the water broke over their heads. Oxygen raced back into starving lungs, taken in through their noses as they continued to eat and lap and nip at each other’s mouths. He took her face in his hands and pulled her away enough that he could look into her eyes. ‘Jesus, Francie, you scared me. I thought we were drowning.’

‘We are, Simon,’ she said, biting his lower lip then tightening her grip around his waist and matching his thrust. ‘We are drowning.’ He could tell by the tremors that began around his cock and shivered up her spine that she was coming. Her grip was far too tight and demanding for him not to follow suite.

They crawled to the grass at the edge of the stream, collapsed into each other’s arms and fell asleep. When he woke up, the sun was setting and she was gone. He went to her cottage and knocked, but her car was gone and the place was dark and silent. There was nothing to do but go home and hope that he hadn’t ruined everything. But then it was hardly his fault, was it? He really did try to practice some restraint. Somehow that didn’t make him feel any better.

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