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Launch Day for SEXY JUST GOT RICH, the Brit Babes’ Latest Anthology

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The Brit Babes are all very excited. Today, we’re celebrating the launch of our new anthology, Sexy Just Got Rich!
When the Brit Babes decided to do Billionaires, they decided it was time to look at billionaires in different shades than grey. Not all billionaires are created equal, and they don’t all look, nor act the way you’d expect.

And now you can find out for yourselves just how the Brit Babes do billionaires in their sizzling new anthology, Sexy Just Got Rich! 90,000 very sexy, very naughty, very rich words about billionaires as you’ve never seen them before. Go an, indulge in the decadence! Enjoy a bevy of billionaires the Brit Babes way.

Sexy Just Got Rich Trailer!

 

(Thanks, Tabitha!)

 

Sexy Just Got Rich Blurb:

Billionaires have it all but that doesn’t mean they don’t have to work hard to get what their hearts desire. In this brand
new anthology of erotic BDSM stories the Brit Babes offer heroes and heroines who aren’t shy about taking what they want. From farmyards to luxury penthouses, wealth is all about sating needs, connecting souls and taking pleasure to new highs. Whether you’re looking for a coffee break read or something longer to curl up in bed with, you’ll find something to suit your needs in Sexy Just Got Rich.

Buying the Farm Blurb: 

Cassie Fielding is at her wits end trying to save the family farm from bankruptcy after her father’s illness. But when Sexy Just Got RichCassie returns from university, she finds that, in spite of their financial situation, her father has hired the mysterious, Simon Dennis to help run the place. As Cassie and the new hired hand experience an unprecedented heat wave of lust, Cassie comes to suspects that her father and Simon may be in cahoots with their own plan to save the farm, and the whole scheme depends on her.

Buying the Farm Excerpt:

By the time she rounded the hill near the barn, and the cabin came into view, she was already anticipating a little self-

loving on the porch swing, a guilty pleasure she’d indulged in ever since she discovered what the surprising combination of the rocking of the swing and the stroking of that soft warm spot between her legs could lead to. She couldn’t think of a better way to unwind and get her mind off things. Her nipples were already peeking and her crotch was warming to the plan as she rounded the barn. But as the path curved between the two oak trees her great grandfather had planted, and the front of the cabin came into view, she stopped short, swallowing a yelp before it gave her away.

There in the porch swing, sat a stranger. Cassie quickly stepped back into the shadows before he could see her. Christ almighty, the stranger was very naked and very occupied, clearly having the same thing in mind she did. Before she could panic the realization hit her. This was her father’s new hired hand. Had to be. He hadn’t told her that the man was living on the farm. She stood close enough that she could make out the rise and fall of his bare chest beneath dark erect nipples set high on tightly puckered areole. Not only had her father neglected to tell her how they would pay a hired hand, but he also hadn’t bothered to tell her that said hired hand was very easy on the eyes – every exquisite inch of him. He sat with his legs open, one hand caressing an impressive erection, the other kneading weighty balls. His eyes were closed, face raised to the moonlight. The shifting of his hips gave the swing just that perfect motion that Cassie had taken advantage of ever since she discovered self-pleasure.

She blinked hard. Surely she was dreaming. But her hand had already found its way up under her skirt. It was all she could do to stifle the moan of pleasure as she wriggled two fingers into the swell of her, dipping and probing until they were slippery enough to tweak and circle her anxious clit. In the meantime her hips had instinctively taken up the gentle rock and glide motion of the swing.

The man’s efforts became more energetic as he thrust his cock faster in the fisted grip of his hand, lifting his sculpted ass off the seat with each thrust. His other hand now braced against the back of the swing to keep him from catapulting out with his pleasurings. His balls shifted atop his thighs with each bump and grind of his hips. My God, he was about to come! And she was about to stand there and watch.

 

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eBook:
Coming 10th February

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
All Romance eBooks
Barnes & Noble
iBooks
Kobo
Smashwords

 

Now Available! The Mount Box Set Just in Time for Valentine’s Day!

Mount 3 book bundleThe Mount Series: All three novels all wrapped up for Valentine’s Day in one sizzling hot bundle!

Rita Holly’s sexy initiation; the strange contract Nick Chase fulfills for Elsa Crane; Liza Calendar and Paulo Delacour’s formulation of an exclusive perfume derive from the scent of sex – the cult of The Mount is behind them all. Shrouded in mystery and grounded in sexual exploration, The Mount is world-wide and ancient, its existence known only to its members who keep its secrets from generation to generation. Together for the first time in one volume, the accounts of The Mount in London, Las Vegas and Rome — three novels, three wild romps of lust, sexual largesse and love.

 

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The Initiation of Ms Holly, Book 1 of The Mount Series:

Journalist, Rita Holly, never dreamed sex with the mysterious Edward in the dark of a malfunctioning train would lead
to a blindfolded, champagne-drenched tango, a spanking by a butch waitress, and an offer of initiation into the exclusive mysteries of The Mount. Desperate to save her threatened job, she agrees, scheming secretly to write an inside exposé on the club that will make her career. But as she delves deeper into the intrigue of The Mount and the lives of its members, she soon discovers that her heart may have other plans.

 

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Fulfilling the Contract, Book 2 of The Mount Series:

Limo driver, NICK CHASE’s bad night gets worse when he picks up TANYA POVIC at a bar only to discover the explosive sex they share lands her in breach of her very strange contract. Blaming himself that Tanya will lose the large
completion bonus earmarked for her mother’s surgery, Nick negotiates with her boss, the tough and mysterious ELSA CRANE, to allow him to fulfill Tanya’s contract and secure her bonus.

Elsa runs Mount Vegas, which offers voyeuristic pleasures for a price. Nick’s job, with Elsa and her quirky team, is to give clients something worth watching through the plate glass windows of Vegas’s luxury hotels and beyond. The learning curve is steep and kinky. As Nick and Elsa’s relationship sizzles and ignites more than hotel room rendezvouses are exposed. In this sequel to The Initiation of Ms Holly things get positively dangerous as Rita Holly and her team are called in from London to lend a helping hand. Bets are being placed. Will Nick fulfil the contract? Will he and Elsa take the gamble? And will they find a way to win at the high stakes, double or nothing, game of hearts?

 

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To Rome with Lust, Book 3 of The Mount Series:

The adventure that Rita Holly began in The Mount in London and Nick Chase took up in Vegas continues when a sizzling encounter on a flight to Rome has journalist, Liza Calendar, and perfumer, Paulo ‘The Nose’ Delacour, in sexy olfactory heaven. The heir apparent of Martelli Fragrance, Paulo wants Liza’s magnificently sensitive nose to help develop Martelli’s controversial new line. Paulo has a secret weapon; Martelli Fragrance is the front for the original Mount, an ancient sex cult of which he is a part, and Paulo plans to use the scent of sex to enhance Martelli’s Innuendo line. As Liza and Paulo sniff out the scent of seduction, they become their own best lab rats. But when someone steals the perfume formulas and lays the blame at Liza’s feet, she and Paulo must sniff out the culprit and prove Liza’s innocence before more is exposed than just secret formulas.

 

Buy The Mount Box Set Here:

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

 

Reviews:

 

The Romance Review“Skillfully written to provide a provocative blend of kinky sex with subtle mystery. Simply put, this book is a page-turner for the erotic reader.” The Romance Reviews

See the full review here

 

*****

Coffee Time Romance“The Initiation of Ms. Holly is so hot I am still tingling a day after I finished reading this novel. This spicy number will heat you up and keep you fully charged for days to come.” – Coffee Time Romance

See the full review here

*****

“This story had an exciting plot with some twists and turns, a cast of very colorful characters, some angst, a plethora of amazing and erotic sex and lastly a beautiful love story. Rita and Edward went through all kinds of kinky hell to get where they wanted to be….and I loved being on this journey with them! A great first read for me by K.D. Grace. Can not wait to get my hands on the next book in The Mount series, Fulfilling the Contract.” Violet Blue

*****

Miz Love Loves Books“A thoroughly enjoyable erotic read which ticks all the boxes and leaves the reader feeling satisfied with their choice of fiction… I can’t wait to see what this talented author comes up with next.” Miz Love Loves Books

See the full review here

*****

“Oh.My.God. The Initiation of Ms. Holly is simply to die for. The Initiation of Ms. Holly is one of the best erotic stories I’ve ever read.  If you want hot, steamy, and kinky with a great story, this should be at the very top of the list.  Buy this book!” Grade: A+ BookingIt

See the full review here

*****

“The Initiation of Ms Holly is erotic fantasy at its best. The sexual scenarios are wonderfully varied and imaginative, and unfailingly arousing. I flew through the book, devouring one luscious sex scene after another, as eager as Rita herself for the next trial.” Erotica Revealed

 

 

 

 

Out Now – Desert Heat by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #erotica #romance #gay #mm #military

Blurb:

Their love is forbidden by rules, religion and risk. Yet still they can’t resist.

Captain Hugh Wilkes is on his last tour of duty in Afghanistan. The British Army is withdrawing, and Wilkes expects his posting to be event-free. That is, until he meets his Afghan interpreter, Rustam Balkhi, who awakens desires in Wilkes that he’d almost forgotten about, and that won’t be ignored.

Please note: this book was previously published as part of the Unconditional Surrender bundle.

Buy links:

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
All Romance eBooks
Barnes & Noble
iBooks UK
iBooks US
Kobo
Smashwords

Excerpt:

Captain Hugh Wilkes sucked in a deep breath, steeling himself for the heat he was about to be subjected to, though he already knew all the deep breaths in the world wouldn’t help. Darkness had fallen on Camp Bastion, in the notorious Helmand Province of Afghanistan, but there would still be residual warmth left to seep away throughout the small hours. Then the sun would rise, and it would start all over again. It was a damn desert, after all. But, all being well, it would be his last ever tour of the godforsaken place. The British Army was already preparing to pull out. The manpower had been reduced drastically over the previous months. It was time to leave the Afghans to get on with it. They weren’t being abandoned—far from it—they would still receive aid, training and money for years to come. But the British Army was no longer needed, apparently. It was still a volatile place, which would no doubt be monitored very closely, in case strategies needed to be reconsidered.

None of that was down to Wilkes, though. He was here with his platoon for six months, doing whatever they were ordered to do by their Company Commander, Major Hunter. It was unlikely they’d be doing any fighting—they weren’t here for offensive operations. More probably they’d be accompanying their vehicles, weapons and ammunition across the country as it was transported to the air base to be sent back home, or patrolling towns and villages as a show of presence, to reassure and protect the inhabitants.

There was only one way to find out. Grabbing his kit, he headed toward the ramp of the huge C17 aircraft with his colleagues, and followed them out onto the airstrip. Immediately, he was hit by the overwhelming smell of aviation fuel. As he moved away from the airplane this was replaced by the dry atmosphere.

Wilkes imagined he could feel the grains of sand coating his throat and tongue. He’d soon get used to it—he always did. Plus, on the bright side, he’d end up with a nice tan at the end of his deployment. Mentally, he crossed his fingers for a nice, event-free tour of duty. Letting his guard down wasn’t going to happen, naturally, he just hoped it wasn’t necessary. Hoped the insurgents would play nicely. The country was completely different to how it had been when Allied forces had gone in after 9/11. Some fantastic progress had been made, but it still wasn’t completely safe. But then, where was? People died in picturesque villages in the English countryside—though generally not courtesy of IEDs, AK-47s or suicide bombers.

Author Bio:

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

 

Demon Interrupted Holiday Marathon Day 2

Demon Interrupted CoverWelcome to Day Two of the Demon Interrupted Holiday Marathon!

The Holiday Season is the season for TV and film marathons. Who doesn’t like to sit in front of the telly with a bowl of popcorn, their fave drink and totally veg out over blissful hours of  telly favourites? The holidays are also the time when we love to curl up with a good read. With that in mind, I thought it was an excellent time for a marathon reading of my paranormal erotic novella, Demon Interrupted, which I wrote and ran as a serial on my blog over six months earlier this year. BUT at that time, I could only manage an episode every three weeks, so I thought it would be fun to make it more easily accessible.

For those of you who don’t know, Demon Interrupted is a Lakeland Witches spin-off story set in the fabulous landscape of the Lake District with the witches of the Elemental Coven. With the completion of Elemental Fire, I left my witches with so many stories untold, and they left me with so many mysteries I wanted to know the answer to that I felt compelled to return.

Starting today, for the next nine days I’ll be running a sizzling, chilling instalment of Demon Interrupted for your reading pleasure.  Today I’d like to share with you chapters 3 and 4 of Demon Interrupted.  I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it. Thanks for joining for this Work in Progress.  And if you want to know more about the Elemental Coven’s sexy adventures, check out the Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy: Body Temperature and RisingRiding the Ether and Elemental Fire. Enjoy!

Chapter 3 of Demon Interrupted

Enter the Shadows

Ferris left for Storm Croft early the next morning. He was anxious to take care of the estate’s business and be back to Elemental Cottage in time for the Full Moon circle. Fiori had packed him a picnic basket with enough food to see him through an entire Cumbrian winter. His takeaway breakfast included two enormous bacon butties on her homemade sourdough bread, a punnet of fresh strawberries she’d picked from Tara’s garden and a flask of Skye’s black tea blend with lemon verbena. There were homemade ginger biscuits tucked in too for elevenses, and that was just for the morning. Eating had only been an act of sustenance before he had joined Cassandra at Elemental Cottage, where it had become a sensual pleasure – one among many.

He had made it all the way to Birmingham without much traffic on the motorways and was back in Surrey just before noon. The groundskeepers were busy with trimming the topiary and deadheading the roses in the formal gardens. He walked in the early summer sunshine inspecting their efforts. Cassandra had never cared what the grounds or the great house looked like. For most of the time before she had fallen in love with the Elemental Coven’s High Priest, Anderson, she had lived her life as though she had no home. He had always felt compelled to make sure that though she might live that way, she was not without a place to lay her head, a good place, a safe and comfortable place to return to when she had need. There was no shortage of funds for the upkeep, and unless she told him otherwise, he would continue to keep Storm Croft as though its owner were coming home tomorrow and bringing the whole Elemental Coven with her.

Inside, he skirted the grand drawing room and the great hall, both of which had, only yesterday, had their lush wood floors waxed. Using the servants’ stairs, he headed for the small apartment behind the kitchen where he maintained his office and living quarters. Cassandra had offered him free choice of any of the above floor suites, but he had never desired more than a simple accommodation. The housekeeper had left the post of interest stacked neatly on his desk along with invoices, receipts and any other documents he might need to peruse. The ledgers he needed for the monthly records were set aside as well. He still preferred the feel of paper and fountain pen to the sterile tap, tap, tap of the laptop keyboard when it came to the monthly book keeping for Storm Croft. Of course he made sure Cassandra had everything at her electronic beck and call, should she ask for it, though she never did.

It was never difficult for Ferris to find something to do at Storm Croft. For most of the years of Cassandra’s life he had occupied himself with the day-to-day tasks waiting for her to need him, grateful when she did, feeling that she was somehow safer under the big roof of the great house, under his protection, beneath Deacon’s radar. And though he might have wished it, Ferris had never been able to keep her there.

castlerigg_Stone_Circle1And now that Deacon was no longer a threat, now that Cassandra had the happiness Ferris had always wished for her, he was reluctant to move away from the routine that had so ordered his life. In spite of Lucia’s little gift, he wanted no more journey of discovery than what was happily offered him in life at Elemental Cottage.

The afternoon passed to evening, with him grazing on the feast Fiori had packed, packed as though he would be digging ditches rather than crunching numbers. In the bottom of the basket was a bottle of Boudreaux that Cassandra had tucked in, wine that she and Anderson had purchased on a holiday they recently made in France. Ferris knew little about wine. He drank nothing but water before he came to Elemental Cottage, but his lack of knowledge did not lessen the pleasure of it. Whoever he was, or whatever he was, strong drink had little effect on him beyond the gentle buzz that always made him want sex.

It was late and the moon hung heavy through the window of his study when he finished the last of the wine and turned his attention, at last, to the weight of his cock in his trousers. He laid his hand against his fly as he mentally went over the list of all he wanted to accomplish on this journey south. He stroked his length and, it stretched and swelled in response. As his other hand slipped below to cup himself, he felt the amazement he did each time his penis drew his attention to its need to be satisfied. He had no memories of sexual desire before arriving at Elemental Cottage. In all those years he had not missed what he could never recall having. And yet upon the very night of his arrival among the witches of Elemental Coven, he cock weighted his trousers like heavy stone and he’d had both Fiori and Sky several times before the night drew to a close.

And there were skills, sexual skills that he had not known he possessed. He knew how to use his tongue and teeth, his fingers and lips on a nipple, on a clitoris, on the labial folds that swelled with sucking and nibbling. He knew how to pleasure a man when the need presented itself. He knew when to stroke and where. He knew when to stop. He knew precisely the edge and how to bring lovers to that edge and hold them there until they were mad with the need to come. He know when the mount them, he knew how to pleasure their nether holes until they wet themselves in waves of pleasure. He could hold the weight of his need for as long as he willed it, and if he wished to empty himself into the gripping tightness of a lover, he could also will himself to remain hard and continue thrusting after his release. As far as he knew, all these skill were his with no previous recollection of having had sex. He had skills that could not have been instinctual, and yet skills that his cock demanded he now use on a regular basis whether he was among the witches and their consorts at Elemental Coven or alone.

At first he believed his surge in libido was because Elemental Cottage was long steeped in the sex magic of its residents, and his body responded to that magic. But he quickly discovered that it mattered not where he was, his desires did not diminish, and the stroking and caressing his cock simply because it felt good to him had become a part of his routine. It was coven practice that the pleasures of the flesh were pleasures one should share generously with oneself, as well as with others, and they were indeed pleasures in which he took delight.

He opened his trousers and lifted his erection free from his boxers sucking his bottom teeth in a tight gasp as engorged flesh came in contact with the heat of his palm. He shifted his buttocks forward and scooped his balls free with his other hand. Then he took a moment to look down at himself, distended and pale against his black trousers. The housekeeper now lived in the gamekeeper’s cottage. She had left hours ago. He was alone in the big house and it was a long time till morning. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the leather chair, stroking and cupping. Sometimes he thought about sex he’d had at Elemental Cottage, sometimes he fantasized about situations that were not a part of the experience of which he had memory and wondered if they were experiences from his past. And sometimes he just lost himself in the feel of his own body, the sheathing stroke of his fist, the cup and fondle of his balls.

The journey down from Cumbria was a long one and he had forced himself to wait, feeling the uncomfortable surging and swelling and tightening in his cock as he travelled the motorway, anticipating the relief that was always welcome at the end of the journey. And even then he had held himself, held the weight of his need close to his body, felt it tug at him while he inspected the gardens, while he balanced the books, while he paid the bills. And now after the meal and the wine, now it was time. As he stroked, he thought of the deep valley between Fiori’s breast, the way she cupped them around his cock as he thrust; he thought of watching Skye’s skilled tongue snake up over Alice’s splay while she sat on the kitchen counter bathed in afternoon sunlight, skirt hiked, panties kicked to the floor. Fiori’d had every intention of chasing them out that day so she could begin dinner. Instead she had joined them. He had watched her ease three fingers into Skye’s wet slit from where she bent over. He watched until he could take no more, then he opened his fly and entered Fiori from behind. Dinner was late that night. No one had minded.

As he stroked and thrust into his hand and ground his buttocks into the leather chair, his mind was a whir of memories of sex at Elemental Cottage. How could he live among them and not constantly be aroused, and not constantly long to connect. Thrust … stroke … cup … His body knew the rhythm so well now, and it would settle for nothing less. Thrust … stroke … cup … It was as if a whole new world had opened to him, a world of pleasure and sensuality, of colour and texture. Thrust … stroke … cup … Outside a tawny owl trilled. Inside the pipes rattled as the heater kicked on just before his breathing drowned out all other sound. Thrust … stroke … cup …

How he had not seen her in the corner, he could not imagine. She sat quietly on the sofa in the shadow. It was the tight whimper and the nervous clearing of her throat as she came forward that got his attention. Before he could do more than blink his surprise, she dropped to her knees in front of him, shoved his hands away and took his cock into her mouth, deep into her mouth, keeping wide eyes that were nearly black in the dim light locked on his face.

Because he didn’t dream, she was not an apparition from the Dreamscape, and there was no doubting her flesh and blood solidity. She had no scent, therefore she must be a ghost, though how it was that she had flesh, he didn’t know, and any thoughts he had of who she was or why she was kneeling in front of him with his cock in her mouth did not linger as she tongued the underside of him and cupped his buttocks to draw him deeper into the tight tug of her cheeks. Motion became frenzied and desperate as he curled his fingers in her tumble of dark hair in an effort to either regain the control she had taken from him or lose it more completely.

It was only as she lifted the skirt of her black gown and moved to straddle him he became fully aware that her clothing was not of this era, though he could not say from which. Her eyes watered from the effort to accommodate his heft, an effort made by one whose arousal was not yet at the level of his own. But she thwarted his attempt at foreplay, pushed his hands away and persevered. Her tight struggle down onto him made him cry out and breathe in shallow gasps to control himself, holding the soft swell of her hips beneath the taffeta of the gown.

She rode him with her arms around his neck and her soft breasts swaying beneath the deep plunge of the bodice. She rode him with her lips pressed to his ear, whispering frantic words he could not make out as his breathing crescendoed to a roar, then a harsh grunt as he convulsed his release in hard, desperate shudders. It was a release he had not yet expected, one he would have never permitted until he had first satisfied her, but as he reached for her to return the favour, she shook her head wildly and shoved off his lap, stumbling backward onto the floor as she did so. ‘Don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me! I thought you wanted me. I thought you wanted me to do … my duty.’

It was only as she regained her footing and backed away from him that he noticed the rope around her neck. How in goddess’ name could he not notice the rope around her neck? For a charged moment, she stood gazing at him, one hand pressed to her chest, the other holding the looped coil of rope. Then, before he could speak, before he could calm her, reassure her that he would never harm her, she turned quickly and disappeared through the wall of books at the back of the study leaving him stunned and shaken, but there was no denying that he was wide awake and his cock was wet from sex.

 

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Chapter 4 of Demon Interrupted

Dark Chrysalis

‘Wait! Wait don’t go! Who are you? Please don’t leave.’ Ferris shoved up from the chair, cramming his cock into his trousers as he went and, before he realised what was happening, he burst through the bookcase, right on in to the big modern kitchen behind and out through the thick stone wall into the extensive herb garden. He found the woman standing beneath an ancient oak, still holding on to the coiled length of the rope.

When she saw him, she uttered a yelp of surprise and dropped the lead of the noose, backing away from him, her eyes wide with terror. ‘Who are you? What did you do to him? What are you?’ Ferris felt a wave of dizziness that was swallowed up in panic. How the hell had he just gone through two solid walls? The ground beneath him tilted and in another wave of dizziness he fell to his knees, shaking his head, which buzzed as though it were full of angry bees.

Before he could clear his mind the woman rushed to him grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. With wild eyes, she glanced at the door to the kitchen. Her complexion was marble-pale, her breathing was desperate. ‘Hurry, oh god, please hurry!’ If he catches you, he’ll kill you. Especially if he sees you with me,’ she sobbed. ‘ I thought he was gone. I thought he was dead. Oh, how can this be happening all over again?

She yanked hard, practically dragging Ferris. With the buzzing still raging in his ears, he followed as she tugged him with all of her strength, coiling the rope around her arm to keep from tripping on it. ‘Oh, hurry, do hurry! I know a place where he won’t find us,’ she called over her shoulder just as she passed through the high stone wall at the edge of the garden.

Ferris cried out and raised a hand to protect his face, but there was no need, her momentum and her tight grip on his hand pulled him through as easily as if he had been nothing more than mist, and they found themselves in an overgrown topiary interspersed with vine-tangled statuary that lined an aging reflection pool. It was a part of the property that had been derelict when Ferris became caretaker at Storm Croft. Though plans had been drawn up to restore it, Ferris was not a wasteful man, so when it became clear that Cassandra would never make use of it, he had not bothered to carry through with the project.

The woman guided him to sit on a moss-covered stone bench next to the pool. ‘He won’t find us here. He hates this place. He says there’s something evil about it. That’s why I always came here, because I know he’ll leave me alone.’

Instead of sitting, Ferris slid onto his knees in front of the pool and, with shaky hands, splashed water onto his face, fearing that he would pass out, then come to himself and the woman would be gone.

‘What are you?’ she asked again. ‘You’re no ghost. I know you’re not.’

‘Of course I’m no ghost. But I know that you are and …’ He stopped mid-sentence. The buzzing intensified in his head and the dizziness once again rolled over him. Staring back at him in the moonlit water was a face other than his own. He leaned forward until he nearly fell into the pool, and found reflected back at him a face broader and sharper boned, with hair that was pale and longer than his own, and the body … he ran a hand over the chest, a hand that responded to his thoughts, but a chest that was broad and muscular, beneath shoulders that blotted out the moonlight in their heft.

‘What are you?’ the woman repeated again. ‘Did you resurrect him? Did you kill him?  Does he know you?’

‘I don’t know who you’re talking about.’ Ferris fell back onto his arse on the concrete edge of the pool. ‘But this is not my body. This is not me. I don’t know what happened.’

The woman came and knelt next to him, her eyes moving over him, her hand still gripping the coil of the rope. ‘How can you not know?’

‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘Tell me what you saw.’

She took his hand and pulled him up onto the bench. ‘I was … doing my duty to him …’ she bit her lip, and her eyes filled with tears. ‘All this time there’s been peace. It didn’t matter how I paid for it. All this time I thought he was gone and that I was free.’

‘What do you mean doing your duty? You were with me and you … well you had sex, with me and then you were afraid and I realised you were a ghost and then … somehow I followed you here.’

‘No! No it wasn’t you I was with. I would have never … done that to a stranger. It’s only that he always expected it of me, and when I saw him back again, I didn’t want to make him angry. I don’t understand. I thought I was free of him. ’ She covered her face in her hands and began to sob.

Not knowing what else to do, Ferris pulled the woman gently to his chest and to his surprise she threw her arms around him. ‘If you have killed him then I owe you a debt I’ll never be able to repay. If he is dead then you’re my saviour.’

‘Madame, please,’ he pulled her hands into his and eased her back so he could look into her dark eyes. ‘I don’t understand any of what you’re speaking. I have killed no one, and I promise you that it was me with whom you had sex. And now I find myself in a body with which I am not familiar, a body that’s no more fleshly than your own. His first urge was to call out for Lucia. Lucia would know what was happening to him if anyone would, but the woman drew his attention back to her.

‘It wasn’t you! It wasn’t this body,’ she gestured to his chest. ‘It wasn’t you I was with. If it had been, if he had found out, he would have hurt me.’ She grabbed her head between her hands as though she were in pain. ‘This isn’t right! None of this is right. He’s dead. I know he’s dead. And I’m dead because of him, but in all these years I have never seen his ghost. I believed that he went to hell. A man such as he could have gone nowhere else. And you’re not him! I know you’re not him.’

‘Who?’

‘Patrick! Patrick Farringdon.’ You’re not Patrick. Patrick’s dead, and yet I’ve just been with him.’

‘I don’t know any Patrick Farringdon,’ Ferris said. ‘My name is Ferris Ryder. I have been the caretaker of Storm Croft for almost thirty years now and…’ His voice faded as though it were drown out by the roar of a wind. He could see the woman’s lips moving, see the alarm in her dark eyes, and then it was as though he were being sucked into a maelstrom of sound and distance, then unearthly silence.

But the silence was short-lives with the sudden rush of air into his oxygen-starved lungs seconds, or possibly even years later. He could not tell. For an instant he felt as though he were suffocating in his own flesh. The angry swarm of bees returned to his head, and there was someone talking, frantically talking.

‘How can this be? How can this be? How can this be?’

He jerked hard enough for his neck to pop as he came back to himself, once again slouched in the brown leather chair at his desk. His trousers were open. His cock was still wet from sex.

The woman cowered by the sofa, hands twisting the rope she held. ‘What are you? It’s Patrick’s flesh I see with my own eyes, but it’s some one else who animates him. You are not my husband. He was a monster, even now as I look into his eyes I see he’s not there. There was no kindness in him, and you, you’re too big for his body, and yet there you dwell. Who are you?’ She glanced over her shoulder as though she were once again about to flee

‘Please don’t run. I won’t harm you.’ In a sudden wave of embarrassment, Ferris yanked his trousers up over his arse and tucked away his cock. ‘My name is Ferris, as I have said. It was me with whom you had sex. I promise you, I don’t know any Patrick Farringdon.’ But he could almost guarantee Lucia did.

castlerigg_Stone_Circle1Slowly the woman moved toward him, one hand resting against her chest, the other holding the rope. ‘How can this be?’ she said again as she brought her free hand to trace the curve of his jaw. ‘This body is like his in every way, but you who animate him are other.’

Ferris took her hand in his and heard the catch of her breath. ‘I promise you I’m not him.’ He didn’t tell her that he was unsure of who he was, but he knew with absolute certainty this flesh that now housed him was not his own. He silently cursed Lucia, equally certain that somehow this was her doing. ‘Who are you, my dear lady?’

‘I am Elaine,’ she said, still studying him as though her eyes deceived her. ‘As you have said, I am dead.’ She nodded down to the rope in her hand.

‘And how is it that you still have form and flesh? Strong magic is required for a ghost to wear flesh.’

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It’s as though I’ve only just came back to my flesh when I saw you there … pleasuring yourself … I felt compelled to touch you. That I was able to do so stunned me … and then, even though I thought you were Patrick, I felt … my own arousal growing. That I had not expected. That I never experienced with Patrick. I only ever experienced fear with Patrick.’ Her pale cheeks flushed crimson and the hand that had returned to her chest clenched in a fist.

‘Did your husband do that to you?’ Ferris nodded to the noose around her neck.

She didn’t answer immediately, and when she did, she avoided his gaze. ‘In a manner of speaking, I suppose he did.’

‘Take it off,’ he said. It’s disturbing and morbid.’ Before she could respond, Ferris stood, took the noose in his hands. With sure fingers, he slipped the knot, lifted it off over her head and tossed it aside. Then he pulled her into his arms, fearing that she would faint from the stress of her experience. ‘It’s alright, Elaine. I am not Farringdon, however I may look, and I won’t hurt you.’ He guided her to the sofa and sat down next to her.

Another image from KevHe pushed the hair back over he shoulders, marvelling at how soft it was, exposing the ligature marks purple and angry. ‘Great goddess, woman, what happened?’

She pushed his hand away from her throat. ‘I was … hung for my crime.’

‘What crime?’ The woman was scared of her own shadow, he thought as she sat trembling next to him. What could she have possibly done? ‘Elaine, you’re already dead. You can tell me. Of what crime were you accused.’

Her eyes were bottomless, and her face was paler than moonlight on the high fells. The breath she no longer needed tore at her lungs as though she had been running, but she did not look away. ‘I killed Patrick. I killed my husband.’

 

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

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

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

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

Alice x

Snowed In

Prologue

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yeah, hi Allie.’ She croaked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

Amazon UK

Amazon US

 

Alice Tells Us about Alice:

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

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

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

Find Alice Here:

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

– Twitter: @AliceRaine1

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

 

 

 
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The Romance Reviews

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