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OUT NOW: FOUR LETTER WORDS by Charlotte Howard (@Shy_Tiger) #FourLetterWords #Erotica #Contemporary #Romance

FourLetterWordsbyCharlotteHoward-1800HRFour Letter Words Blurb:

Paige Holmes has made her choice. But as she begins to get her life back on track, she also starts to question her decision.

Then, the letters arrive. When Paige finds herself in trouble once again, she must decide who she can trust.

Will she go back to the one she denied, or will she stand by her choice?

Love and lust are, after all, both Four Letter Words.

BUY LINK: Tirgearr Publishing

*****

Excerpt from Chapter One:

Laying my head back against the black leather seats of the Jag and gazing ahead, I lifted a finger and touched my lips that were swollen from his kiss. The weariness of the past few weeks was beginning to take over, weighing on my eyelids as they began to droop. I should have been reassured by the man sitting next to me.

I shifted in my seat so I could watch him as he drove on. He was a force that even nature had no hold over. There was an urge to reach out and cling to his broad bicep, a need to feel the security of his physical strength, aching somewhere deep inside of me.

We didn’t speak as he pressed all his weight onto the accelerator, urging the car until it was over the speed limit. I half expected the shine of blue lights to fill the inside of the car, with sirens blaring around us. But they didn’t. Of course they didn’t. Even if a marked car was to pass, I doubted Vance Ellery would slow down, and I had even less that the police would attempt to pull him over. I suspected that the personal phone number of every single high-ranking officer in the country, was tucked away in a neat Rolodex on Vance’s desk or even stored in the memory bank of his mobile phone for easy access.

The silence should have been soothing. I should have been able to let my lashes flutter against my cheeks, and slip into a relaxing slumber. Instead the lack of conversation added to the tension that built behind my eyes. I closed them, hoping that soon I would drift off into a deep sleep, where I would be surrounded by falling flowers, rainbows, and sunlight. Ha! If only I was deserving of such luck. There were no pleasant dreams awaiting me after the sandman visited. Only nightmares wanted to be part of my night. They tormented me, bringing memories that I’d tried to bury and forget. They hounded the darkness, giving me nothing but misery and pain and suffering. It was as though all my sins from a previous life had been rolled over into this one.

If the visions of his face, the sound of his voice had been the only elements of my slumber, then I might have been willing to slip away and let the desperation of rest take me to the shadowed places I dreaded. My soul was destined for torture though. I was to be punished for his crime.

The mere suggestion of sleep forced my blood to pulsate until it was the only thing I could hear, throbbing in my temples. The searing pain of anxiety and panic stabbed at my chest, pins pricking my skin, as I let my eyelids fall. A shudder fell down my spine, waking me from the light doze I’d stumbled into.

Breathe in, breathe out. In with the good, out with the bad. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Breathe in, breathe out. A mantra, taught to me by a yoga instructor years before hell had entered my life, repeated over and over in my mind. I inhaled the cool air through my nasal passages, allowing it to slip down into my pain-filled lungs, exhaling all the bad out of my mouth in a gigantic whoosh.

Ahead, the roads were empty, weaving out of the village and headed towards Richart Courts, the hotel that was to be my sanctuary for the next couple of days before I had to face the next challenge. New York City.

How anyone could expect me to go back there was beyond belief. The only logical explanation for their plans for my future was that facing New York was the lesser of the two evils that haunted me, threatening to rip away the seams that had begun to fray around my already tattered edges.

*****

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Four Letter Words is the second, and final, part to Paige’s story. To celebrate its re-release, the first part of the Words Duet has been reduced to 99p / 99c!

Seven_Dirty_Words_by_Charlotte_Howard_1800HRSeven Dirty Words Blurb:

Paige Holmes hides herself in a masculine world in a desperate attempt to remain safe.

Just as she is ready to face her fears and her past, she finds herself torn between Matt Jackson and Vance Ellery: handsome, rich, and safe – or handsome, rich, and dangerous?

Which will she choose?

The one who appears to be the most perfect, or the one who makes her use all Seven Dirty Words?

BUY LINK: Tirgearr Publishing

*****

charlottehowardAuthor bio:

British author, Charlotte Howard, was born in Oman and spent much of the first part of her life flitting between Oman, Scotland, and England. Now settled in Somerset, Charlotte lives with her husband, two children, and growing menagerie of pets.

Her career as a writer began at an early age, with a poem being featured in an anthology for the East Midlands. Since then Charlotte has written many short stories and poems, and finally wrote her first full-length piece of fiction in 2010.

During what little spare time she has, Charlotte enjoys reading and writing (of course), spending time with her family, and watching action movies whilst eating curry and drinking tea.

Charlotte is an active member of Yeovil Creative Writers Group.

Social Media links:

Website
Facebook
Twitter
Blog

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Guest Blogger: J D Martins

tourbutton_ONiBostonWhen I wrote One Night in Boston, I decided straight off that these two characters weren’t going to be like the characters in my other two City Nights Series books, One Night in Madrid and One Night in Pamplona. First off, they were going to be different races. Secondly, they were not going to be in their twenties. In fact, they were going to be in their late thirties and early forties. Thirdly, they were not going to have perfect bodies. I wasn’t tired of describing beautiful bodies, but it was time for something new.

Not everyone reading the book is young and beautiful anymore (nor the person writing it!) and I think they’ll appreciate characters aren’t always young and beautiful either, even in erotic romance stories. Nor do they need to be. They’re still sexy, still attractive, and still young and beautiful where it counts – in their heads and in the bedroom.

And they know what they like and what they want and they’re not afraid to ask it of their lover.

I also decided to make the characters older because the story is about taking chances, about going for something even when it seems like it’s doomed before you start. And while young people take chances – often stupid ones, as we see on the news often enough – they are less likely to ponder the implications of their embarking on an adventure. They just go for it without thinking because the future is wide open, as the song says, and who cares if things go belly up, really?

Colm and Amber in One Night in Boston, however, know what they’re doing. They’re well aware that things have not gone amazingly well for them before, and that they’ve not got lots of time to waste on a relationship that’s going to fizzle out after a while. They want to invest in something that has a future rather than something that seems doomed from the start. At the same time, they know life is short, and even they deserve a little bit of romance, even if it is only for one night…

*****

Excerpt:

“Feck, feck and fuckin’ feck,” he yelled at nobody in particular.

Amber guffawed.

“That’s all right, Amber. You have your laugh. I’m feckin’ drenched.”

Amber caught her breath. “I can see.”

“So much for finding a restaurant. If we can get a taxi to the hotel we can eat there. I have other clothes, and I can leave these hangin’ on a chair. They’ll dry before mornin’ in that sauna of a room.”

Amber stopped laughing and shook her head, though she still smiled broadly, her eyes glowing with mirth. It was like a little sunshine. “No. We can dry them at my house in half an hour and go for dinner later. It’s still early; there’s still lots to see.”

“If you’re sure,” Colm said.

Amber was sure. She hadn’t been until he fell. Well, she’d been sure she’d kiss him, but as to inviting him home, she’d not thought about it. Much. Well, okay, she’d thought about it, a lot; all the time they were holding hands. But she’d believed it was still a decision waiting to be made.

But once she’d said it, she was sure it was the right thing.

Well, maybe it wasn’t. He was getting on a plane the next day and flying out of her life, just like Billy had—though that had been after a lot more than one day. She didn’t like one-night stands because she felt she was just getting played again. But screw it, she’d made her decision. She didn’t go back on decisions; even bad ones. Her mami could attest to that.

Anyway, it wasn’t often she could let herself take such a chance. Normally she had the kids in the house and that made it impossible to bring a man home. Nor was it often she met a man who wanted to come home with her—or who was worth bringing back home. Since Billy left she’d only been on a few dates. Men didn’t get turned on by the fact she’d two teenage kids.

Colm looked like his ass was cold. The snow stuck to his pants and he pulled at them to keep the wet cloth away from his legs. By the time a cab slowed and stopped for them, the pants were nearly frozen stiff, and sitting in the cab wasn’t very comfortable for him. He made no move to lean against her now, so he wouldn’t get her wet. At least being frozen, water didn’t drip all over the seat, so the driver never knew the pants were damp.

Her flat was a small, two-bedroom walk-up in Mission Hill. She really needed somewhere bigger. But it had a nice deck on the back that looked out over Downtown, and when she got home and kicked back with a beer or a gin and tonic—weather permitting—it was her own little sanctuary. All the bullshit she had to put up with from customers and Billy and the kids and the landlady, and whoever else got in her way that day, just melted away.

Colm seemed to appreciate the view, and didn’t say anything about the small size of the apartment. Nor did he mention the fact it was only fifty degrees in the place. Amber supposed it felt warm to him after the cold bath. He looked around for the washing machine in the kitchen while she turned up the thermostat.

“I got a washer-dryer in the bathroom. I used to go to the laundromat, but man, I’m tired of doin’ that shit my whole life. Landlady doesn’t like it, but she can kiss my big black ass. I ain’t taking my laundry through the snow all winter. Not the way my kids change their clothes.”

“Have you got a towel or anything? Just to dry myself off a bit.”

She laughed. She didn’t think he’d be so shy about disrobing, somehow; him a big farmer and all. “You go get in the shower, warm your ass up. When I hear the water runnin’, I’ll come in and put the clothes in the machine. Then I’ll have coffee ready when you’re done.”

“That’s great, thanks a million.”

Colm got in the shower and Amber threw his clothes in the dryer. Then she put on some coffee. It would be done percolating when she was done with Colm.

In the bedroom she closed the blinds and turned on Samika’s bedside lamp so her own bed was in shadow when she turned off the main light. She didn’t want Colm to see her body in the cold brightness, exactly. She was going to have sex with him, but it didn’t mean she was completely at ease showing him her body. If she was, she’d have gotten in the shower with him already.

When Amber heard the water stop she went back in the bathroom while Colm was still towelling off. He seemed a little startled, but recovered quickly. He looked at her without speaking. She didn’t speak either. What was there to say?

She took him by the hand into her bedroom. He let the towel drop when he got there. She turned around and sat back on the bed, looking up at him. His whole body was extremely pale, his chest and belly covered in thick hair. He had a bit of a paunch, but a wide chest, and his arms and legs were muscular. He looked like he could pick her up and dance across the room—had there been room to stand.

He didn’t look like he wanted to stand much, though. She stole a glance at his dick, already rising to the occasion as he climbed on the bed beside her.

*****

OneNightinBostonbyJDMartins-200Blurb:

When Colm is stranded overnight in Boston, Amber, a hotel receptionist, agrees to give him a personal tour of the cradle of the American Revolution. Colm has loved and lost, and now takes pleasure where he finds it. Amber hasn’t quite found her feet again after a recent divorce, nor is she very happy with what she sees in the mirror.

As they drive through the historic streets and stroll along the Freedom Trail, taking in the beautiful architecture of Beacon Hill and Back Bay, their mutual attraction grows and both take a chance on happiness. But can they trust one another? Can Colm convince Amber he’s not just playing her, or is his one night in Boston just a fling?

10% of the author’s royalties will be donated to WWF, the World Wildlife Fund.

Buy Links for One Night in Boston:

Tirgearr: http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Martins_JD/one-night-in-boston.htm

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/20vJp4o

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1NJtUF3

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/one-night-in-boston/id1099998311

Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-night-in-boston-jd-martins/1123637513

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/one-night-in-boston-2

*****

Bio:

JD Martins has been called Spanish, Mexican, Chinese, Philippine and English and Australian. He is none of these.

He’s lived in four cities in three countries on two continents, but he doesn’t feel like he’s travelled very much. His life in each city was rather mundane and he didn’t get out much – tending to move his pen more than his body.

He still aspires to see much more of the world – probably when his wife becomes rich enough to let him retire from day jobs.

He would like to live like Ernest Hemmingway: periodically sending novel manuscripts to his publisher from various far-flung corners of the world, though he’s not sure the quality will be quite the same. Until then, he has contented himself with living like Robert Graves – in a pleasant part of Spain with a quiet life – and being able to do some things that Hemmingway did – trout fishing in Spain, game hunting in Africa, watching bullfights and running with the bulls, – and a few that he did not get to do – surfing, skydiving, bungee jumping, and getting erotic stories published.

https://www.facebook.com/JDMartinsauthor

http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Martins_JD/index.htm

https://plus.google.com/u/0/113993899494442135197/posts

*****

GIVEAWAY!

Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/j-d-martins/

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Create Your Love Story – A Guest Post by Aleigha Siron (@aleighasiron) #findingmyhighlander

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Finish the love story you’re reading and then create your own.

Plan the perfect interlude with your partner tonight.

 

Set the scene:

Dim the lights, or light flickering candles.

Prepare a bowl of peaches and strawberries dipped in chocolate.

Keep extra chocolate (not too hot,) for other taste delights.

Pop the champagne. Keep two glasses full for toasts through the night.

Dab champagne on all delectable body parts aching for passionate kisses.

Have your partner do the same.

If you’re the beer and pizza type, that could work too.

 

Communicate without words—love through touch.

Close your eyes and trace the contours of your lover’s face, neck, arms, and hands.

Pick your favorite light massage oil. Take turns. Leave fear or shyness in another room.

Swirl your name on your lover’s skin with the tip of your finger.

Start slow and easy, with your hands on your lover’s body, build heat and pressure.

Open the gates, let passion rule, surrender to enchantment.

When words come, rejoice with praise, honor, adoration.

Laugh, cry, remember why you fell in love.

 

Love is the greatest gift we bestow on another.

Don’t wait another day because today is all we have to share.

Pick a song. Lose yourself in the sounds and sensations.

Live your love story.

*****

Excerpt:

“Lass, can I help you?” His voice was softer than the others, his stance relaxed, composed, despite the dirt and blood splattered over his massive arms and clothing. He seemed to be a quiet, gentle man, though physically as imposing as the others.

“You could bring me my bag.”

He moved his hand from behind him and cautiously extended her mother’s old carpetbag. “Do I need to check it for weapons?” A slight crinkle lifted the corner of his mouth. A piece of leather cord tied wavy, light-brown hair at the nape of his neck and tight braids spilled alongside sharp, scruffy cheeks. His eyes were dark and shadowed.

“Thank you…it’s Rabbie, correct?”

“Aye,” he nodded.

Andra granted him a guarded smile. “I’ll pull no further weapons if you promise to be kind.” The slight attempt at humor from both of them eased the tension coiled in her gut.

He swept an arm gracefully in front of him and bowed, “Always, m’lady, as I learned at me mother’s knee.” Then he left her to tend the horses.

She searched her bag for the washcloth, hand towel, and first aid kit she always carried when traveling. The washcloth came to hand first. She dipped it into the cold water and wiped the dried and clotted blood from her face and hair. Then she dunked her head in the pool several more times.

“I seem to be awake,” she whispered, just for the comfort on her own voice. “My surroundings feel solid enough,” she pounded her fist on the dirt, “so it must be real. Accept it, Andra, and decide what to do next.”

She could hear the men speaking Gaelic, hushed yet clearly distraught about the condition of their clansman. They gathered near another pool of water several yards from where she knelt. She watched them over her shoulder for a few minutes struggling to fit the scene into her new reality. A million questions rose in her throat.

“Not now. Patience and observation are what’s required. All will be revealed in time.” What a stupid cliché.

Should she offer her help with their friend; would they accept it? She could not sit here and do nothing when one of them was seriously injured. Besides, anxiety always spurred her to take action. Her father had always said, “Move, keep busy, and don’t let dust gather under your feet.” With her father’s words ringing in her ears, she approached the men cautiously, keeping her eye on the mean one, Struan.

“May I be of assistance?” She stood with her feet firmly planted on the hard-packed, dirt floor, her head held high, one hand pressed flat against her side, the other rested on the cross dangling on her chest. It took an extreme effort to control her trembling body. Her palms moistened with sweat. She steadied her focus on Kendrick. His strong hands moved carefully over his brother’s body. The mean one harrumphed and growled.

A growl? Really?

Kendrick looked up, concern etched on his face. His dark, probing eyes bore through her. “Are you a healer, then?” he asked.

“Not a healer exactly, but I have cared for ill and injured persons and have some training in first aid. I wish to help if you’ll permit me.”

“I dinnae ken your meaning. What’s the first aid of which you speak? As you can see, we give him aid, but if you can do anything to help save my brother’s life, I will gladly accept your offer.”

The mean one growled again. “Don’t trust her, she’s the enemy and will just as soon slit his throat.”

Ignoring the slur, she continued, “Have you determined the extent of his injuries?”

“Aye, his shoulder is dislocated, several fingers broken, which we have straightened and bound as best we’re able. We need to stitch multiple, deep wounds, and he’s lost a lot of blood, though blood no longer flows freely.”

The injured man lay on a plaid, stripped completely naked, his kilt torn away from his battered body. Mud, blood, and all manner of vile debris caked the hard planes of his bronzed chest. Andra couldn’t identify the severity or location of all his injuries. He moaned but appeared unconscious, or so she assumed, since he hadn’t opened his eyes. Clumps of dried blood crusted over wounds on one leg and foot. Dark, matted refuse covered the entire other leg.

His manhood lay flaccid against his thigh, and none of the men seemed concerned about his state of undress in front of a strange female. She stood quietly, waiting for several breaths.

*****

FindingMyHighlanderbyAleighaSiron-200Blurb:

On a windswept cliff above San Francisco Bay in 2013, 27 year-old Andra Cameron, the last member of her family, prepares to scatter her family’s ashes to the wind. An earthquake catapults her to the Scottish Highlands in 1705. She wakes, aching and bloody, to the sound of horses thundering through the trees. Terrified and with no other options, Andra accompanies these rugged warriors. She can’t deny the undeniable attraction that ignites between herself and the handsome but gruff Kendrick. Will she trust him to provide protection in the harsh reality of 18th century Scotland and with her secret, or will she find a way to return home to the 21st century?

Laird Kendrick MacLean and his men, escaping a recent skirmish with their worst nemeses, clan Cameron and their Sassenach allies, are shocked to find an injured, unprotected female in their path. How could she not know her kin and how had she landed in the middle of the wilderness alone? His men suspect she’s a spy or a witch. Still, Kendrick will not abandon an injured woman, even if she speaks unusually accented English, and her name is Cameron. Will he ransom her to others or will their closed hearts open to each other? Although he questions her every utterance, this feisty, outspoken woman inflames his desire like no other.

Buy Links

Amazon us: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01DFGYURE/

Amazon ukhttp://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B01DFGYURE

Nookhttp://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/finding-my-highlander-aleigha-siron/1123595128

Applehttps://itunes.apple.com/us/book/finding-my-highlander/id1097148126?mt=11

Smashwordshttps://www.smashwords.com/books/view/625227

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/ebook/finding-my-highlander

*****

AleighaSironAuthor Bio and Media Links

After more than twenty years writing and delivering management and other training programs for modest-sized to Fortune Five Hundred companies, and ten years developing community crisis-intervention training programs, Aleigha turned her writing efforts to her first loves, fiction, and poetry.  Her poetry has appeared in numerous anthologies and university presses over the past few decades.  Following a difficult period in her life, she discovered solace in romance novels that inspired her to write in this genre.  As she says, “who doesn’t desire a guaranteed happy-ever-after scenario?” Always interested in the concept of time-travel, she knew her first few stories would follow that theme.

When not writing, her trusty four-legged companion/helper, Strider, accompanies her on sunset walks along the shore. During these quiet walks under an expansive sky, with the whoosh of waves across the sand and her gaze drifting over the rolling sea, her best glimmers of inspiration come to mind.  Following the recent discovery of distant Scottish ancestors, she embarked on a trip to the Highlands. Although she had already developed the characters for Finding My Highlander, her trip to the Highlands enriched the characters and enhanced the story direction. This is her first full-length romance novel.  Aleigha is working on a prequel to Finding My Highlander, and another time-travel novel set in a later period.

WWW (Aleigha’s WebPage): http://aleighasiron.com/

Aleigha Siron’s Book page at Tirgearr Publishing: http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Siron_Aleigha/finding-my-highlander.htm

Tirgearr Publishing Home Page: http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/index.htm

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/AleighaSiron

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/people/Aleigha-Siron/

*****

GIVEAWAY!

Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/aleigha-siron/

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Erika Gardner On Sex And The Dragon in The Garden (@Erika_Gardner)

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I love, love, love this line from K.D. Grace’s Bio, “In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love.” She’s right, of course. And I dig that she owns it and has built a career around it.

I get tired of the same old expectations being placed on women and their desires, life choices, and aspirations, even in books. Don’t get me wrong, I like a traditional happy ending as much as the next person, the blissful couple riding into the sunset, yadda, yadda, yadda. I just wonder, why does it always have to come back to marriage? Why is that the magical panacea? Does society truly believe that is the one thing that completes every woman? Because clearly it does not. There are plenty of examples of women who are married and miserable and lots of women who are single and loving it.

Women are sexual beings. In many ways we are even more sexual than men, though we are rarely portrayed that way unless it is in a negative way. Too often women and girls are made to feel ashamed of our sexuality, when we should embrace it. (Maybe someone’s jealous of the whole multiple orgasm thing? I mean, it is pretty awesome.)

One of the themes running through Dragon is choice. Who makes the choice, the choices that we make, and the reasons for these decisions. Choice is power and freedom. My main character, Siobhan, is an independent soul caught between destiny and free will. She’s like most of us, except battling the forces of evil and saving mankind.

Here’s an excerpt from the book featuring Turel, a fallen angel, and Siobhan, our protagonist. Hope you enjoy!

 

TheDragoninTheGardenbyErikaGardner-200I loved his hawk-like profile, his dark hair, and the distinctive Persian cheekbones. My gaze lingered on his short beard and mustache that did little to disguise the sensuality of his lips. The urge to run my fingers along his olive skin intoxicated me. I hesitated, trying to decipher from his words and actions over the last week what he wanted. A little voice inside of me took the reins and gave me a daring I would never have. What did I want?

Thought transformed to action as my other hand stroked his cheek. He turned at my touch, his dark eyes intent on me. I faltered for an instant; his presence overwhelmed me. “My desires?” I whispered. “Whatever I desire?”

He did not answer, but his breath quickened.

Before I lost my nerve, I leaned closer, to his neck. On the side, at the precise point where his pulse beat, I nuzzled a soft kiss.

“And if I desire to do this?”

He did not move as I withdrew my hand from his grasp and slid both of mine carefully over his chest, mindful of his bruises. His warmth and the clean, hard lines of his body made rational thought difficult.

I pressed closer. We faced one another, my lips close to his. “Or this?” I whispered. I leaned in and for the first time, I kissed Turel, instead of being kissed by him.

His lips parted for mine, and his hands slid around my waist to draw me closer. He made a sound in his throat somewhere between a strangled growl and a groan as our embrace intensified. For a moment the sheer pleasure of his kiss overwhelmed all other thoughts.

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This post was written by Erika Gardner. She’s a native Californian, lifelong lover of fantastical adventures, and a dedicated Whovian.  If you enjoyed it, please sign up to receive updates on www.erikagardner.com   You can follow Erika on Twitter @Erika_Gardner, “Like” her Facebook page Erika Gardner- Writer and Storyteller. Or check out her contributions to the BBB Blog.

 

 

Three Authors Who Have Inspired Me as a Writer by Queenie Black

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First let me take you back to the beginning of time!

Queenie_Black_17th FebruaryWell almost.

I was a confident reader when I was four and I have never stopped reading since. One notable year (2010) I read 322 books/novellas .

No, I wasn’t doing a challenge and I haven’t managed to break that record since. Now I’m more discriminating and I probably average about 200 books a year.

I spent my teenage years in Greece and as an avid reader I was pretty much starved of reading material.  I could read Greek but it was a laborious process and the books available were mostly classics.  Luckily I had an English aunty out there who received a massive tea chest full of novels from the UK every year. It was a treasure trove of Mills and Boon, and historical novels by authors like Jean Plaidy and Georgette Heyer and I pretty much spent every summer from the age of fourteen reading through the tea chests.

I wasn’t picky. I read everything and I read everywhere.  On the balcony, on the bus, on the beach, it didn’t matter. I always had my nose in a book.

Out of all the authors I read there were many I absolutely adored and still retain affection for but two had a lasting impact on me.

The first is Mary Stewart. Her books contained suspense and classical and literary references that I found fascinating. Mostly though I loved her book because her heroines were quite strong women, often widowed but certainly not shrinking violets.  They weren’t kick ass, and they didn’t argue for the sake of it. They were quietly confident and capable of getting on with things.  I particularly liked her novel Madame Will You Talk which had a wonderful section where the hero chases the heroine across France. I loved that sequence- it made my juvenile romantic heart race.

The suspense, the excellence of her descriptions and her strong heroines intrigued me and I still don’t get tired of reading her stories. Nearly all of her books have a place on my keeper shelf.

My second greatest influence was Georgette Heyer. Her historical romances were detailed and she would transfer me to another place and time. Her heroines were also quite strong.

Bear in mind this was a time when it was quite OK for heroes in romances to put heroines over their knees and wallop them (and we’re not talking BDSM, we’re talking icky paternalistic chauvenism) or even slap their faces, so a strong heroine was not only a welcome change but also inspiring to fourteen year old me.  At the same time, both these authors knew how to write characters who could be vulnerable without wallowing in self-pity. One of my favourite Heyer books is The Devil’s Cub. Great story because the heroine shoots the hero.

I moved on in my tastes and spent a couple of years reading crime, horror and thrillers until I went back to romance, and then came across Erotica and erotic romance.  Here my eyes were opened to romances where sex and the sexual relationship were central to the story which was very graphic and contained explicit language.

Queenie_Black_17th February1I read quite a few of these authors- guzzled them to be honest, working my way through Lora Leigh, Annmarie McKenna and many others. The queen of all of them in my opinion, and the person who inspired me to write erotic romance, is Cherise Sinclair. I came across her books when I picked up Edge of the Enforcer, part of her Dark Haven series in which she explores ménage and BDSM, and I was hooked. It’s the way that she writes and her characters that draw me. Again, her heroines are strong and I particularly like the dynamics between the protagonists and the way she builds the sexual tension and develops the plot and the romance through the sexual relationships.  I love her understanding of the unique sexual preferences of the characters as well.

Overall these three authors have taught me about creating worlds, about strong female characters, and about sexual tension all combining to create believable and human journeys to the essential Happy Ever After.

I hope that one day I will be able to write with their level of skill.

What about you? Who are your favourite authors/ genres and why?

*****

Here is an excerpt from my new collection of short erotic stories Lovebites.

ELEVATOR MAGIC

“You know what? You can take your job and stick it.” Mad as hell I grabbed my purse and stomped out of the little cubicle I called my office. I was done here and I was never coming back and fuck the giving notice part.

The elevator always took ages to creak its way between floors and I could feel the stabbing pressure of what felt like a thousand eyes in my back. Of course they were all watching. They’d been waiting for something like this to happen for twenty months. Just then melodic chimes signaled the arrival of the executive elevator. The one that normal people like me are forbidden to ride in, the one for the exalted rich and the bosses who live in the penthouse. I wanted to escape the avid looks that were directed my way and, what the hell, what could they do anyway? Sack me?

So I stepped into it.

I turned and, just before the doors closed, got a good view of open mouths, staring eyes and was that…envy? It certainly looked like it from where I was standing. As the doors slid silently shut, I raised my hand and gave a little finger wave.

 

The car was bigger than my bedroom, and a thousand times more luxurious but I hardly noticed the mirrored walls and the thick-as-a-mattress carpet. My attention was caught and held by the two guys already in there, one on my left and one on my right.

My gaze darted between the two of them and I felt guilty colour sting my cheeks. I hadn’t expected company but I wasn’t objecting. These guys were fit and built. One dark-haired and smoooooth, the other blonde and just-got-in-out-of-the-wild rough.

And I knew them. Brandon Shaw and Mitchell Graham owned the company I work – ooops, scratch that – the company I used to work for. I’d met them at work events, like the Christmas party and the Halloween party and the Employee of the Year party. I’d seen them a couple of times from a distance. They always had a flock of female employees around them.

I’d heard people described as chick magnets but only realised exactly what it meant when I saw these two. I used to feel their magic pull yet always stayed away because initially I was in a relationship, and then afterwards was suffering from a broken heart and struggling to cope with a job where my ex was screwing a colleague. Pity my ex didn’t take a leaf out of these guys’ books – there was never any suggestion that they had slept with anyone from the company. Which meant in the end that there was a gentle rumor that they were a) gay, or b) didn’t like vanilla and went for the more exotic, with their tastes catered for elsewhere.

I positioned myself with my back to the wall and let my gaze slide over them. To my right was Brandon. He’d taken off his suit jacket and had it hooked over one shoulder. Beneath the fine fabric of his shirt I could see the hard muscle of a broad chest, arrowing down to a pair of narrow hips and a huge bulge… Oh man.

I licked my lips and dragged my reluctant gaze away to focus on his face. He was watching me scope him out. There was a hard predatory glint in his eyes. Heat speared through me from my cheekbones to my pussy, part embarrassment and part desire. I squeezed my thighs together to stop the growing ache.

I quickly glanced away and found myself checking out Mitchell on my left. He was slightly shorter than his partner, and seemed kinder and less predatory too. His eyes were a softer green, more jade than emerald. But his shoulders were as wide and he sported an identical erection. Were they lovers? A pity for womankind if they were gay. What a loss.

I shouldn’t be in the elevator with them in the first place but the new militant me with nothing to lose didn’t care. So instead of fixing my gaze on the floor and fighting the temptation to look again, I enjoyed the view. They put my slimeball ex to shame and my panties grew damp while they silently watched me. I wished that I was wearing something a little less conservative when the elevator jerked to a sudden halt.

Not a nice, slow, we’ve arrived kind of halt but the scary kind.

The lights went out.

Panic dug its claws into me, not letting go even when the emergency lighting kicked in.

“What’s happening?” I didn’t even try and keep the terrified squeak out of my tone.

“Hey,” Brandon said softly, “it’s going to be alright. They’ll have it fixed in no time.”

“It’s broken?” I hated the idea of being shut in closed spaces, and the car, despite its size and luxury, suddenly felt very small. I couldn’t bear to spend hours locked in here hanging over all that empty space. The walls closed in, my hands and feet went cold, and I struggled to breath.

“Now you’ve done it, Brandon.”

“Easy.” When had they got so close to me? I was crowded by two warm male bodies that smelt good. Having them so close, almost touching me, took my mind off the elevator.

“Rub her hands, Mitchell. Get some warmth into them, she’s freezing.”

Mitchell sandwiched my hands between his palms and rubbed hard. The movement distracted me, not because he was making my hands warmer, which he was, but because he kept bumping my breasts.  Awareness rushed through me and my nipples went hard as cherry stones and poked at my blouse. Brandon’s hands rested lightly on my hips but they might as well have been brands. I could feel every finger as if there were no clothing between us. Woodsy cologne, mingled with clean male musk, swirled around me. My pussy creamed and I couldn’t help it; my wayward body leant back until I was pressed hard against Brandon.

His cock, huge and promising, seared my lower back. I couldn’t prevent a small sound escaping. I felt my cheeks go hot. What must they think of me?

Mitchell’s expression was rich with satisfaction in the dim light.

“Shall we carry on distracting you, baby?”

I shivered, my panties drenched as my body answered the question for them.  Brandon nuzzled the sensitive spot beneath my ear. His voice rumbled right through my body as he asked, “Ever been double-fucked before?”

The crude honesty of his question embarrassed me and I couldn’t answer. Then I forgot what he asked because Mitchell dropped to his knees in front of me. His hands stroked slowly up the back of my thighs. They smoothed over stockings, and then paused when they reached my lacy garters.

*****

Love BitesBlurb and buy link:

Elevator Magic
A steamy encounter in a lift makes Cass the center of attention for two sexy men. Is it just hot sex for them or will Cass have to make some life-changing choices?

Immortal Longings
Not one, but two Greek gods in her bed. How’s a girl to choose? Must Zoe’s sensual holiday romance end in farewell, or will she try to make her own heaven on earth with two demigods?

Eleanor’s Choice
Eleanor explores the shadowy world of submission – her marriage depends on it. Will the Master give her an experience she can use to please her husband, or is it time to walk away?

Love Bites
Lonely Ella is mesmerised by the owner of a chocolate shop. Drawn into Lang’s rich, seductive web, she grows to fear as well as desire him. What is the secret he is hiding from her?
These four short stories contain too-hot-to-handle Greek gods, a sexy Vampire who might just turn out to be a killer, a Master who can wield a crop with artistry, and two delicious CEOs who know how to keep a woman happy. Oh, and chocolate, BDSM, MFM Mènage and sex in an elevator.
This collection of 4 stories contains explicit language and graphic erotic sexual content. It is intended for mature audiences 18 years of age or older.
Lovebites is available on Amazon: http://viewbook.at/lovebites

*****

Author bio:

I’ve been writing pretty much since I was able to read. I juggle fundraising for charities, family life and writing with varying success. My children have mostly flown the nest and I live in a small village in North Yorkshire, England with my husband and some chickens. I write in an old caravan in the garden where I can’t be tempted to procrastinate on the internet.

Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/queenieblackauthor/?fref=ts

Twitter: @queenieblackwr1

*****

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