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Sapphic Smut: Tales of Lesbian Lust Out Now! #sapphicsmut #erotica #anthology

Sapphic SmutBlurb:

Light hearted, sexy Sapphic smut is the theme of this erotic anthology, edited by Lucy Felthouse with assistance from Kev ‘Mitnik’ Blisse.

From coffee shops to exotic Indian adventures to cosy cabins in France, Sapphic Smut has it all. Fun with sugar, naughty spankings, seductions by strangers, seductions by friends, cougars and even a twist on a fairy tale abound in this exciting collection of lesbian stories from erotica’s finest authors.

This delicious girl-on-girl anthology contains stories from Lucy Felthouse, Kay Jaybee, Louisa Bacio, Sallyanne Rogers, Vanessa de Sade, Tabitha Rayne and Elizabeth Coldwell.

Amazon: http://mybook.to/sapphicsmut

Other links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/sapphic-smut/

Editor’s Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/lucyfelthousewriter

 

Excerpt:

Alana really couldn’t believe how flat Holland was. She’d been told by many people, but somehow, she still wasn’t expecting a place that made Cambridgeshire look like the Peak District. Her view from the train as she travelled from Schiphol airport to Amsterdam’s Centraal Station was unimpeded. Not so much as a hillock was visible.

And now, here she was, standing outside the station with crowds milling around her. A mixture of tourists, businesspeople and natives. She herself was a combination of two of those groups—she was here on business, but she’d deliberately extended her trip so she could spend a couple of days exploring the city. She had a day either side of her meeting, the boring part a filling to a sightseeing sandwich. Though, despite the boring tag, the meeting definitely wasn’t a bad thing, it was an appointment to cross the ts and dot the is on a very lucrative deal—certainly the trip was worthwhile.

After watching the insanity for another minute or so, she began to head away from the station, wheeling her small case along with her. Already armed with a guidebook and a decent map, she knew where she was going. Her map-reading skills were excellent, and she made the short walk to her hotel in less than twenty minutes. Anywhere else, she’d have gotten a cab, but it appeared they were a rare commodity in this city.

She’d checked in, dumped her bags and freshened up within another ten minutes, and was back on the street.

An online acquaintance had sent her a bunch of information for her trip—about the best museums, interesting things to see that might not be in guidebooks, and details on transport. It appeared that Amsterdam was unlike London, Paris and Rome, in as much as it had trams as its preferred mode of transport, rather than underground trains. Only one Metro line ran through the city, north-to-south. Everywhere else was utterly dependent on trams, bikes and being on foot.

And fuck, there were a lot of bikes. They zipped here, there and everywhere, not always staying where they were supposed to be, it seemed. The slim Dutch people atop the bikes were oblivious, just concentrating on getting where they were going.

Alana searched for the nearest tram stop, and quickly discovered she needed to be on the other side of the road to head in the right direction.

Crossing the road was a chore in itself. A dice with death. She’d thought Rome’s motorists were insane, but at least they were fairly predictable. Here, she was faced with crossing a road that held a cycle path, a tram line and a lane for cars. Shifting down the pavement, she stood at the conveniently placed crossing. It still didn’t make things much easier, but at least she could mingle in with the crowd. Traffic was much more likely to stop if it was going to hit a crowd of people than a single pedestrian. Right?

By some miracle, she reached the opposite pavement unscathed—except for her nerves, which were shot—and approached the tram stop. As if by magic, a tram arrived, and it was the correct number. Things were looking up.

After a few minutes, she realised that public transport in Amsterdam was nowhere near as easy to navigate as in the other major cities she was familiar with. There, their Tube or Metro stations always had plenty of large, unmissable signs telling you where you were. Piccadilly Circus, Anvers, Piramide. Here, it seemed you were left to your own devices. There were announcements on board the tram, but they were in Dutch—a language which she knew very little of—incredibly muffled, and pretty much drowned out by the sound of the tram’s motion and its passengers.

 

 

Sallyanne Rogers Accepts THE ULTIMATE CHALLENGE!

SallyAnne Rogers“If anyone can write an erotic novel about Morris dancers and make it sexy, it’ll be me.” I said it more than once, not really meaning it the first few times, but it took on a life of its own, and people began to take me a little more seriously than I had thought they might.

After all, I am probably the only person – though if there’s more of you out there, do get in touch – who is both erotic writer and Morris dancer. Really, it had to be done and, more than that, I really wanted to do it.

Blah blah beer guts, blah blah beards, blah blah old men… the lazy stereotypes around Morris dancing annoy me anyway. There are actually loads of dancers under 30 these days, male and female, and while not everyone can be super-model beautiful, there are plenty of fit bodies and sexy movers to admire should you stop by a local folk festival. There are quite a few contemporary takes on the whole business, as well. When I first started dancing, I belonged to the Prince Albert Morris, a team who mixed folk traditions with BDSM and fetish regalia and appeared on TV several times during the late 1990s: nowadays there’s a Steampunk Morris side who dance to classic rock tunes, and the traffic-stopping Belles of London City in their corsets and petticoats, among others.

Of course, there’s a certain amount of tension – and there always has been – between traditionalists and modernizers. That gave me something to use as a source of the conflict that would drive the plot of Spring In My Step. If my hero and heroine were attracted to each other but on opposing sides of the What Morris Dancing Should Be Like debate, they would have to work out a way of reconciling their differences to get to their happy ending. I did draw on a variety of things that happened to me during my time with Prince Albert, particularly the fact that we were originally put together at the request of a TV company. Adding a camera crew who were making a documentary to my story was the factor that made everything fall neatly into place.

I don’t know if Spring In My Step will encourage more people to take up Morris dancing in the hope of finding a sexy dancing partner of their own, but it would be quite cool if that happened.

 

Spring in My Step Blurb:

When Cath meets Robbie for the first time, she decides to hold back on telling him she’s a Morris dancer who’s about to be featured in a TV programme about contemporary British culture. She’s not expecting more than a one-night stand in the first place, so there’s no need to complicate things. However, what started out as a bit of fun looks like it could turn into something more, as the two of them find their mutual attraction too strong to resist.The documentary crew are on the hunt for juicy controversies in the run up to the May Day festival at Waterleigh Bridge, and it seems that Robbie has a secret of his own. If he and Cath find out the truth about one another, will it bring them closer or tear them apart?

Buy Spring in My Step Here:

Xcite Books

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

The Morris Shop

About Sallyanne:

Sallyanne Rogers has written articles for adult magazines including Forum in the past, and has previously worked on market stalls selling vintage clothes and magazines. This inspired her first novella for Xcite, Midwinter Heat. She has also been a morris dancer for about 15 years.

Her website is http://sallyannerogers0112.wordpress.com and she is on Twitter @dswsallyanne and on Facebook as Sallyanne Rogers (there is more than one person by that name, though)

 

 

 

 
© 2017 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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