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Jenna Bright Shares the Story Behind The Lord of Summer

Today’s fabulous post from one of the nasty authors of Xcite Book’s new Secret Library series is a taste of British mythology and right up my alley. Please welcome the lovely Jenna Bright with her sizzling story, The Lord of Summer, from The Secret Library anthology, Silk Stockings. Welcome Jenna!

I’ve always been fascinated by the history of the British Isles, but my favourite parts are the ones we can’t ever know the truth of. I love the legends and the stories and the impossible tales. The hidden places, the secret spots, the areas of this country that haven’t changed in hundreds of years. The places where, if you hit them right, you feel like you might have travelled back across the centuries. And even more, I adore the mythical people and creatures from history, the heroes and pagan gods and magical beings. And my very favourite part is imagining how they might fit into our modern world.

That was the starting point for The Lord of Summer, my novella in the Xcite Secret Library Silk Stockings anthology. I’d been reading a lot about The Green Man at the time, about how his face, surrounded by leaves and greenery, shows up in stonework, on churches, in wood all over Britain and further afield. Nobody really agrees on exactly what he meant to the people who put him there, but there are plenty of theories. Was he a god? A sign of spring to come? A nature spirit? Was he Jack in the Green? The Lord of Summer? The Holly King?

Of course, the part that actually stuck in my brain was that he was generally considered a symbol of fertility.

One of the things I love most about the mythology of Great Britain is how it embraces sexuality and seduction as a natural part of the world. Something to be celebrated, rather than repressed. To be enjoyed, appreciated and revered.

I knew I wanted my slightly repressed characters to be sent to the back of beyond, to be stuck, without escape. I needed them somewhere mystic, somewhere where the old rules still applied, somewhere where they’d be forced at admit their hidden fantasies – and enjoy all the benefits that release brings. The rundown Green Man pub, backing onto a mysterious forest with hidden clearings and ancient trees seemed perfect.

I set the story during a (rare) British heatwave, letting the weather and the humidity bring simmering tensions to boiling point. And, obviously, it does have the advantage that it was even easier than normal to persuade my characters to take a walk in the shady woods and strip off their clothes…

I’m so delighted that this story is featured in the very beautiful, and strokeable, Secret Library series, and in such great company, too. I hope you enjoy all the stories!


Banished to the back of beyond, in the middle of a long, hot summer, Gem and Dan Parker find their marriage filling up with secrets. As they work to reopen the Green Man pub, tensions and unacknowledged desires come between them. From their first night, when Gem sees someone watching them make love from the edge of the woods, her fantasies of having two men at once start to grow and consume her.

As the temperature rises, she becomes fixated by her imaginings of an impossible, gorgeous, otherworldly man in the forest. A man who could make her dreams come true – and maybe save her marriage.


Gem couldn’t explain it. She’d been keyed up, feeling as if her skin were too sensitive, too eager for touch, ever since they’d arrived at the Green Man. But she could honestly say that right then, with Dan’s question – accusation, maybe – ringing in her ears, sex was the last thing on her mind. Fear, perhaps. Anger; with him for not trusting her, with Mark for putting her in this position in the first place. Even with herself, because she’d known this would happen, eventually. She hadn’t married a stupid man.

She’d been ready to fight back, ready to yell, to distract, to accuse – whatever it took to lead Dan away from the truth. But then …

A carving on the wall; smooth, dark wood, had caught her eye. She’d stared, just for a moment or two, taking in the curve of the face, the laughing eyes surrounded by leaves and stems and flowers. Just like the pub sign.

And when she’d turned back to Dan, the comeback she’d prepared died on her lips and suddenly her blood was beating with want.

She stepped closer, her body swaying with her desire, watching as his eyes darkened. Reaching out, she ran her fingers up his arm, the feel of his skin under hers enough to make her heart race. And her words, when they came, weren’t angry, or defensive, or anything but seductive.

‘You don’t really want to waste time fighting, do you? Not when we’ve got a tradition to uphold.’

That was all it took.

Dan’s arm snaked around her waist, pulling her tight against him, crushing her breasts to his chest. He lowered his mouth to hers, and she felt her nipples tightening as his other hand ran up her middle, popping open the buttons of her shirt. ‘I suppose there are some more important things we could be doing,’ he said, and the rasp in his voice made her shiver.

She loved this, loved him. Lived for the feel of his hands on her body, his lips on her neck. How could he think anyone else would ever measure up?

‘Far more important,’ she murmured, leaning her head back to allow him better access to her throat. His kisses burned a line down from her jaw to her breasts, nuzzling her bra out of the way. She gasped as his lips surrounded a nipple, licking and sucking and tugging as she felt herself growing wet and desperate.

Time to regain some control, Gem decided.

Reaching down, she ran her nails up Dan’s thighs, knowing the pressure through the thick denim of his jeans always drove him wild. As she reached the top of his legs, Dan broke away from her breasts and spun her round so her back hit wood. ‘Not yet,’ he said, wrapping his hands over her hips to lift her up onto the polished surface of the bar. ‘I’ve got plans for you.’

Without giving her time to wonder what plans, Dan slid his palms down her thighs, only to push her skirt up around her waist, out of the way. Gem leant back on her hands, eyes half closed in anticipation. She knew what came next, could almost feel his mouth on her already. Even without everything else that was wonderful about him, the things his tongue could do were more than enough to make marriage to Dan blissful.

Head tipped back, Gem’s eyelids fluttered down as Dan ran his tongue along the line of her already soaked underwear. His fingers moved in closer, tugging them down her legs, and she kicked them away. His mouth was instantly back between her thighs, and she felt the hum of his appreciative moan buzz through her. Why had they been fighting again? What could possibly matter except this? Her ponytail hung down along her back, tickling her skin where her shirt had fallen away. Dan had unhooked her bra, she realised, and it hung loose from her arms. She shrugged the rest of the fabric aside, swallowing hard as Dan licked into her. No distractions. She wanted to focus on what her husband was doing to her body.

The tip of his tongue circled around her clit and Gem let out a moan, her head rolling to the side as her body shivered with need. For a moment, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window at the end of the bar; her breasts, freed from her bra, thrust out into the humid air, and Dan, bent between her legs, her skirt pushed up between them. Gem smiled. She looked … wanton.

Then the light changed, or the air moved, or something else that Gem couldn’t begin to explain. Because she wasn’t looking at herself, any more. She was watching a man, outside the pub, on the bridge, just beyond the window. Watching her.


Amazon UK
Amazon US
Book Depository
Xcite Books


Jenna Bright writes erotic fiction at her tiny desk in her home near London, and in many coffee shops around the country. She’s a strong advocate for fantastic lingerie, high heels and pencil skirts, and finding the sensual in the everyday.

Born with an over-active imagination, Jenna learnt early to channel her flights of fancy into stories. Later, she discovered a talent for creating sensual worlds filled with sexy scenarios, libidinous lovers and very arousing outcomes. She hopes that you enjoy reading them as much as she enjoys writing them.


Silk Stockings – http://www.amazon.co.uk/Silk-Stockings-The-Secret-Library/dp/1908262044/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1334741664&sr=8-1

Fire & Ice – http://www.amazon.co.uk/Fire-and-Ice-ebook/dp/B006OBOOH4/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1334741664&sr=8-2

Website: www.jennabright.com

Twitter: @Jenna_Bright

Email: jennabright@virginmedia.com

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B00779O8ZU



Constance Munday Tell The Story Behind Silk Stockings

As promised, another fabulous post from the nasty authors of Xcite Book’s new Secret Library series. Today’s nasty author has written the title story of The Secret Library anthology, Silk Stockings. Please welcome the delicious Constance Munday!

I started writing when I was only a child and always loved it.  Books were kind of a staple in our household and I was brought up on a diet of stories.  My earliest memories are of my parents reading to me and as I got older my fanatical reading passion – so writing was bound to happen.  How wonderful to be able to make it a part of my life.  The most rewarding task though, it has to be one of the hardest; a constant juggling act and assault against time and intrusions and sometimes a wrestling match with a tricky idea.  As a writer I think you’re constantly improving and taking criticism and trying to please your loyal band of followers.

There’s been so much going on this year as I finally creep from under my log and start blogging and chatting.  Angels and demons are vying with romance and pleasure in a few scintillating projects which are up and coming and should be out soon.  Look out for me!

Anyway, this post is about an imminent arrival.  Yes, I’m delighted to be part of a wonderful project with such talented and fabulous writing friends.

I loved writing Silk Stockings for this fabulous new novella collection by Accent Press called, ‘The Secret Library,’ and Michael and Imogen were such lovely characters to develop.  My fans will probably find this a bit of a departure from my other work.  For some years now I’ve been writing mainly erotic fiction with most of you knowing me as Alcamia.

However, eventually I’ve come out of the closet under my romantic fiction name of Constance Munday.  This was the result of been pressed over the last year or so to come clean, so to speak – find my voice and tell everyone that yes, I’m both an erotic romantic and fantasy novelist too and I’m proud of it.  I do hope my loyal fan base will enjoy this new me, although don’t worry I’m still writing, pure sizzling hot erotica too and loving it.

Anyway, onto ‘Silk Stockings.’  I was aware before I even got into the story that I wanted to blend a tiny bit of crime into this one to make it exciting and I love setting stories in new and exciting places and playing with periods in history.  This story has a bit of both.  For some reason Berlin really suited my character Imogen and lends the right atmosphere to the tale; a bit dark and edgy and most definitely sexy.

As it is, the story is a hot romantic tale with plenty of spice and a strong emotional element.  Without giving too much away, things are going to get tricky for my sassy heroine Imogen when she meets Michael.  Michael is everything Imogen’s past lovers have not been – rich, successful but also a tender romantic hero.  Rapidly Imogen falls in love but she’s petrified.  For years now she’s been fleeing her demons and protecting a dark secret which is close to her heart.   Now, right when she thinks she’s found true happiness and fallen in love with Michael overnight, a frightening spectre from her past is closing in on her and threatening all she holds dear.  Imogen is being pursued in more ways than one.  Should she flee completely and leave the man she loves or can she reveal to Michael the truth?


When Michael Levenstein meets Imogen, an exotic dancer at a Berlin nightclub, a passionate and intense love story develops.  Michael becomes obsessed by mysterious Imogen and falls into a world of intense sexual fantasy and desire. But Imogen is determined to protect a personal, dark secret at all costs and because of this she has forbidden herself love.With Imogen afraid of committing and afraid of losing what she has fought for so desperately, can Michael break down her barriers and discover a solution to his lover’s deep dark secret, thus freeing the enigmatic Imogen to truly love him


Imogen watched Michael for several minutes and before she realised what she was doing, she speared him with her cheeky gaze and raising her glass she invited a toast. It was something she never did and there was a steely determination in her glance, not unlike a whore’s invitation, but in a way she was a whore. She was, as Louis had so quaintly put it, the silk stocking whore – a cocktease in Cervin.

Michael smiled at her. She hazarded a guess he was doing what most men did, he was wondering if she had a boyfriend or if she was a high class whore waiting for a punter since she seemed expectant and her gaze kept continually darting to the door. The truth of the matter was, though, Imogen couldn’t get rid of the irrational fear which seemed to be mounting up inside her day by day, the fear Louis would walk right back in and blackmail her.

After awhile Imogen fished an olive out of her drink and popping it between her lips she dried her finger on her thigh. She didn’t mean to do it, but the action of the finger drew Michael’s attention to the silk stockings. She rubbed her finger up and down suggestively and then she drew several small circles on her thigh before hitching her skirt skilfully up her legs. She didn’t want to tempt him but she couldn’t help it, she liked him. She liked his wide-eyed innocent look and his slim sexy physique and narrow hips. He was American, she’d guessed that immediately because he talked with a bit of a twang like Jake, but Jake had a broad Brooklyn accent and Michael’s accent was soft and husky as if he’d just had sex and rolled out of bed. Even that voice was enough to get her going for some reason. It sent shivers all the way up her spine.

Michael travelled the world in his high powered job as top sales executive in his sister-in-law’s cosmetic firm. He was a rebel like his father and he’d been groomed to walk in Abel Levenstein’s shoes, but when he left law school Michael found, although he had a certain genius just like his father for law, he didn’t want to be a facsimile of a legal Levenstein.

Being a famous Levenstein wasn’t easy and when he dropped the bombshell, Abel didn’t talk to him for six months, but the family were close and a compromise was reached. He now employed his skills to good use in Marta’s employ. He enjoyed selling useful products and he could put his legal skills to good use. Furthermore, he loved the job because he was constantly meeting and able to appraise stunning women, women of incredible and outstanding beauty. He’d been to many exotic countries and he’d shared a bed with a fair quantity of fascinating girls. Girls he had to admit, who were exceedingly enchanting and sexually provocative and sometimes had eclectic and surprising sexual repertoires but whose beautiful flawless looks became in a while just a little bit repetitive. In all those bars, in all those hotels, he’d never seen a dame as exciting as Imogen, the woman in the silk stockings.

Where to find Constance Munday:

I have a website but it will be closing, as my server is shutting down at the end of April and I am at the moment deciding on a new one plus a blog spot.

It is:  www.alcamiapayne.web.officelive.com

Alcamia can be found at  www.total-e-bound.com and of course Xcite books

Were to buy Silk stocking: http://www.xcitebooks.co.uk/home.html





Toni Sands Shares the Story Behind Traded Innocence

As promised, another fabulous post from the nasty authors of Xcite Book’s new Secret Library series. Today’s nasty author is in between those sexy velvet covers with me and Elizabeth Coldwell in the Traded Innocence anthology. Please welcome the yummy Toni Sands  here to get sexily historical with the title story from this sizzling anthology, Traded Innocence. Welcome Toni! 

It’s thrilling to have my story snuggling alongside those of KD Grace and Liz Coldwell in the Traded Innocence collection. These are two very talented ladies and I can’t wait to curl up with this trio of novellas.

When Xcite Books asked me to write something for their new imprint, a tingle ran down my spine. The Secret Library is a fabulous, evocative title and when I read the criteria for authors, I knew I must embrace the challenge. Powerful – passionate -provocative: three words to encapsulate an alpha male hero, a feisty heroine to fall for him and a tempting setting. I’d like to explain how my novella emerged.

I’ve written on and off for years but back in the 1990s, began submitting stories. From memory, my first effort was about as effective as a dish of strawberries and cream left out in the rain but I got my act together to write and broadcast two stories for BBC Wiltshire Sound. After I became suddenly single, concentrating upon writing a novel (still in the drawer) helped me hugely. After a move to Wales and several short story successes, I joined a writers’ group and that creativity bug had its way with me at last. I enrolled on a degree course and when the word ‘dissertation’ dropped into the mix I kept seeing smugglers and a heroine who needed rescuing from a scheming male. I’d never written a historical before so for inspiration I took Wales’ awesome Gower Peninsula as background. Research included visiting some alleged smugglers’ coves, of course.

I gained my degree and drifted away from writing ‘nice’ to writing ‘raunchy’ but those characters hung around my hard drive until last year when I knew Rebecca and Jac, my hero and heroine, must seize their moment. Here’s the first sighting of my bad boy smuggler and the lovely young woman who captures his heart …


On the golden crescent visible at high tide, a horseman cantered towards the headland. An emerald green bandanna tied back glossy black hair from his face. His white shirt ballooned as he rode, muscular thighs gripping the horse’s flanks.

Fingers laced, two young women giggled their way across the dunes above, to scramble into a sandy bowl, sheltered by swaying grass and sea thrift.

‘She’ll never catch us now,’ said Rebecca, fingers raking her copper curls. ‘I won’t let her spoil our fun.’

‘Biddy’s only following your father’s orders,’ said Catrin. ‘He wants you to make a good marriage.’

‘It’s not fair! Marrying me off to someone who’s a hundred years old.’

Catrin frowned. ‘He’s a wealthy lord.’

‘Born back in the last century. You do the sums!

When Rebecca spots Jac, she begins to dream, not just about being in his arms but calculating whether he can save her body and soul from her sleazebag of a bridegroom. She engineers a meeting with Jac …

The weather was changing. There was a distant growl of thunder. Jac gestured to some nearby rocks forming a natural sitting place and Rebecca noticed something that had slipped her attention before. The tip of Jac’s forefinger was missing. Instead of sitting down, she reached for his left hand and took it in hers.

She saw the uncertainty in his eyes and recognised his vulnerability. She felt a torrent of tenderness. He was beautiful, this twenty-one-year-old Irishman. She didn’t care about his chaotic lifestyle. All that mattered was the man. Slowly she raised his hand to her mouth. Her lips closed around the damaged forefinger and she began to suck. Gently and rhythmically her tongue licked Jac’s fingertip.


Sea, sky and smugglers’ coves – paradise for some – despair for beautiful Rebecca. Her father plans to marry her off to a tyrant. Intrigued by a soothsayer’s words, she tumbles at the feet of bad boy Jac, an apprentice smuggler, good with women and horses. Desire burns as powerfully as Rebecca’s determination to rewrite her destiny. Local witch Morwenna is Jac’s ex-lover. Can she be trusted? Midnight at Half Moon Cove sees scavengers and power-hungry barons struggling for supremacy. The lovers must face greater danger before innocence is traded for passion in the sandy cove where they first met.

My website is www.tonisands.co.uk

My Twitter account is https://twitter.com/#!/tonisands

Toni Sands is on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100003739178570

 I very much hope you’ll enjoy reading Traded Innocence and its companions in the just-released collection. Thank you, KD, for inviting me along at this exciting time. Hold out your glass, everyone, and let’s break open the bubbly!


Surrogates, Garden Porn and Inspiration

First of all, let me just do a little happy dance while I tell any of you out there who haven’t already heard me shouting about it (the ones who might have been in internet-deprived Outer Mongolia or just waking up from a coma) My new novella, Surrogates, is out! Rock on, garden porn! … er … should that be compost on, garden porn???

Garden porn! Ah yes, my favourite erotic topic. I’ve talked about the pleasure of getting my hands dirty before, and I’ve even discussed the many innovative uses for veg and garden implements. Surrogates is nothing if not creative with both. For those of you who don’t know what a dibber is, look it up, and I’m sure you can see where I’m heading – gently of course, gently!

My heroine, Francie Carter, is a master gardener who specialises in veg, or kitchen gardens, and she makes her living restoring walled kitchen gardens on large estates. You guessed it, Francie’s garden is a veg gardener’s wet dream come true. It’s a huge plot of postage stamp beds with grass paths in between. It comes with fruit trees, succulent beds of soft fruit, a large, heated, well-equipped greenhouse and  a state of the art staging area. All of that luscious yumminess is shielded and protected by a restored medieval wall. The garden Francie tends, on the estate of her kinky, neurotic lover, Daniel Alexander III, is my dream garden. Bet that comes as no surprise.

While I was writing Surrogates for Mischief Books and fantasising all the hot sex that would take place in the hot gardens, my husband and I were on the waiting list for an allotment. We had been on that waiting list for three long years and counting. Allotments, I figured, are about as close to a walled medieval garden on an opulent estate as I’m ever likely to get. Though, to be honest, after three years of waiting, I was beginning to wonder if my chances might be better with an opulent estate.

Just a week before Surrogates was released, we became the proud holders of a prime piece of allotment real estate, and suddenly our veg growing capacity went from whatever we could squeeze into our small back garden to a plot bigger than the whole property our house is on! Of course, like most allotments, the whole property is fenced in. Okay, it’s not a medieval stone wall, but it’s close enough for me. Though we don’t have a huge greenhouse like the one in which Francie partakes of some seriously hot sex with her two men, we have inherited a little blue garden shed, which I find very inspiring, indeed!

Unlike Francie, I’m no expert. I’m just a hobbyist, a hobbyist whose hobby suddenly got a whole lot more serious. My husband reckons we have about a half an acre! A half an acre, a little blue garden shed, a huge compost heap, and several kinds of mouth-watering soft fruit already planted. Be still my heart! It isn’t just that I’ll finally have space for lots of sweet corn and lots of peas, or that I’ll finally be able to put in that asparagus bed I’ve always dreamed of, but it’s the inspiration of it all. Even stories that are totally free of garden porn bubble up from the deep, filthy, romantic part of my unconscious when my hands are in the earth and I’m growing things to eat. A whole half acre of inspiration! AND a quirky blue garden shed. I shiver with anticipation!

And to celebrate the launch of Surrogates, here’s a steamy excerpt straight from the garden. Enjoy! (Be warned, this one’s a scorcher!)


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.


‘Francie? Francie, are you there?’ Dan made his way around behind the jungle of runner beans, getting a shoe full of warm moist soil when he stepped off the path. As the grit infiltrated his dress socks, he would have cursed his clumsiness, but then he saw her on hands and knees, the swell of her hips slightly raised in her efforts to pull stubborn weeds. She didn’t have to do that. She was the head kitchen gardener, a goddess in her domain. He hired underlings to do the weeding, but fuck, he was glad she took the hands-on approach, especially at times like this. She had kicked off the silly blue plastic gardening clogs she always wore, and her bare toes curled into the soft earth as though the very touch of it was an irresistible pleasure. How could soil between toes be so goddamned sexy?

The thin summer skirt she wore barely covered the heart-shaped roundness of her bottom, hugging her and clinging in the heavy summer heat to the delicious juncture where her thighs met. There were clearly no panty lines. She gardened in skirts, like she wanted to expose herself, like the act of planting and digging and cultivating made her a naughty bitch, who couldn’t get enough. But then that was the way he saw her in his fantasies, and oh shit, did he have fantasies about her! His cock jerked with insistence that nearly took his breath away. ‘There you are,’ he breathed, fingers already fumbling at his fly.

‘Go away. I’m busy,’ she said, giving some unfortunate weed an angry tug, an act the made the thin skirt quiver, made the firm muscles of her buttocks beneath clench and release. And his balls surged sending a testosterone buzz clear to the crown of his head.

He ignored the anger in her voice, well he didn’t actually ignore it. Her saucy temper made his cock even harder. ‘It’s all right, darling, you keep on working. Just lift your skirt for me.’ He grunted softly as he released his cock into his hand.

‘Lift it yourself. I said I’m busy.’

‘You know I can’t do that, sweetheart.’

She growled something particularly feral under her breath. He figured it wasn’t fit for polite company, which made him wish all the more that he’d heard it.

‘I’ve got such a load for you. I’ll come all over it if you don’t lift it for me,’ he said.

‘I have other skirts, Daniel.’ She only called him Daniel when she was really angry. ‘Why do I care where you come?’

‘Because you know where I really want to come, darling, and you have to know how badly I want it.’ He moved slightly to one side, not so far that her magnificent bottom wasn’t the centre of his attention, but far enough that, in her peripheral vision, she might catch a glimpse of him stroking his cock. Even if she couldn’t, she knew what he was doing, and he had no intention of being quiet about it. He lifted his balls free from his boxers and groaned at the feel of himself so full, so heavy for her.

She gave another angry yank at the offending weeds, and the resulting squeeze of her buttocks nearly sent him over the edge.

Buy Links:

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Elizabeth Coldwell is Cooking Up Trouble for The Secret Library

As I promised, more fabulous posts from the nasty authors of Xcite Book’s new Secret Library series. Today’s nasty author is in between those sexy velvet covers with me and Toni Sands in the Traded Innocence anthology. Please welcome the lucious Elizabeth Coldwell here to tell you a bit about her sizzling story, Cooking Up Trouble. Welcome Liz!

If there was one thing I’d put on my list, should I ever decide to compile what makes the perfect man, it would be an ability to cook. Much as I love demonstrating my own culinary skills, there’s something incredibly attractive about a man who knows his way round an omelette pan. And if he can do that flash style of chopping that reduces an onion to tiny dice within seconds, so much the better.

A man who loves food is a man who loves sex, or so it’s been claimed. That’s why I decided to set Cooking Up Trouble, my story in The Secret Library’s Traded Innocence collection, in the world of the TV cookery show. There have never been more chefs demonstrating their skills on our TV channels, whether that’s Heston Blumenthal doing something complicated with Gruyere cheese and dry ice, or the Hairy Bikers trading wisecracks while whipping up a soufflé on a tiny camping stove. Chefs have huge egos – at least the best ones do – which makes them perfect alpha male hero material, just waiting to meet their match in a feisty heroine who won’t sit back and meekly adore them, however gorgeous and talented they might be.

Scott Harley, who takes centre stage in Cooking Up Trouble, isn’t based on any one particular chef, though I did base his restaurant, the Ludgate Chop House, in Clerkenwell, a part of London I know quite well, and one where I’ve had my share of memorable meals over the years. He’s the kind of man who’ll pose naked to promote himself (while aiming to raise awareness of a charitable cause at the same time), and he won’t hesitate to insult any or all of his fellow chefs in the process (sound like anyone you’ve heard of?). Which is where Morgan Jones comes in.

Morgan is the new kid on the TV chefs block, a Rubenesque girl from the Welsh valleys who’s been on the end of Harley’s whiplash tongue before now. And that makes her more than a little wary of working with him when they’re chosen as the new presenting team on the long-running Saturday morning TV show, Cook’s Treat. She’s the queen of gooey desserts and sumptuous baked goods, the vice to Scott’s virtuous style. What neither she nor Scott expects is that when they finally meet in the flesh, their attraction will be instant and too hot to ignore, try as they might. The show’s ratings soar, propelled by their obvious chemistry together. But what will happen if their on-screen relationship moves to the bedroom – will they be able to stand the heat?

You can find out by reading Cooking Up Trouble, part of a tantalising triple bill alongside Toni Sands’ Traded Innocence and KD Grace’s Migrations. Bon appetit!

The good news is that Morgan Jones has landed her dream job, co-presenting the Saturday morning TV cookery show, Cook’s Treat. The bad news is she’ll be working alongside the hottest celebrity chef in London, Scott Harley. Voluptuous Morgan has never forgiven Scott for trashing her cooking style and physical appearance in a magazine article, but when she meets him in the flesh for the first time her reaction is very different. The attraction between the two of them is mutual and undeniable, but she’s determined not to fall for his obvious charms. Their chemistry on the show disguises the tension behind the scenes – a tension that grows more sexual by the day. Can she stand the growing heat – or should Morgan get out of the kitchen?


This can’t be happening, Morgan told herself. Of all the people to find herself so instantly, powerfully attracted to, why did it have to be him? Biting hard on the end of her ballpoint pen, she fought to keep the feeling buried. But as Lucinda began to outline the innovations she intended to bring to the Cook’s Treats format, hoping to gain an even bigger share of the Saturday morning audience than the show already attracted, Morgan found her thoughts wandering.

She pictured again the image of Scott naked but for the concealing saucepan, his magnificent body revealed for everyone to see. In her mind’s eye, he stood in exactly that same pose. Only this time, he moved the pan away from his groin, exposing a long, hard cock that almost invited her to touch it. She pictured herself unfastening the wrap dress she’d bought for the show. Her fantasy self wore no underwear, and, beneath the dress, Morgan’s body was a symphony of soft curves. Scott’s lips curved in a lustful smile at the sight of her full breasts, their nipples suckable peaks, and the fluff of dark hair on her mound, pussy peeking out between her rounded thighs.

Time seemed to stand still as they each eyed the other’s glorious nakedness, waiting to see who would make the next move. Then Scott took a pace forward, hand moving along his cock, pushing its velvety foreskin back so the head popped out from beneath it.

Morgan saw herself sinking to her knees before him, reaching out to take his thick shaft in her hand so she could feed the tip between her lips. His breath hissed out at the sensation of being enveloped in Morgan’s warm, wet mouth. Clutching him at the base, bobbing her head up and down so he almost, but not quite, fell from her lips with every pass, she licked and sucked till he couldn’t take any more. His warning cry gave her the opportunity to pull her mouth away. Instead, she held steady, gulping down every drop of his hot, salty …

‘So what do you think, Morgan?’

Swept away by her fantasy, it took Morgan a moment to realise the question was being addressed to her.

Find Elizabeth Coldwell here:


Traded Innocence is available from


Amazon UK
Amazon US
Xcite Books

© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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