Category Archives: Guest Blogger

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Excerpt:

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

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

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

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

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

‘Huh?’

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

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

‘Sorry man. So, I shoot, you fuck.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I want it!’

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

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

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

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

‘Christ,’ he hissed.

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

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

Marion moaned. ‘Oh my God . . . ’

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here came the long arm of the law.

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

Free.

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

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

Buy Pretty As A Porn Star:

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

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

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

Visit my blog and blow my mind:

http://moremadelinemoore.blogspot.ca/

Find me on Facebook:

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

Tweet me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/MsMadelineMoore

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

Xoxo Mad

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

Kristal Baird on Her Novella, PA Expose

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The Story Behind The Story

It’s my pleasure to welcome the fabulous Kristal Baird to my site today. This is Kristal’s first time on A Hopeful Romantic. She’s here to tell us the story behind her hot new novella, PA Exposé.

Hello there, Kd. I’m so thrilled that you’ve invited me over to share the origins of my full-length novel, PA Exposé, with your wonderful readers. It’s truly lovely to get a chance to connect with so many interesting people.

There wasn’t one particular thing that sparked off the plot. Rather, it was several current events that led to the creation of individual characters. Once they existed, I had to get these people interacting. My whirlwind of a mind started gathering storm clouds until hopefully I got a tornado of a story (what did I say about current events?).

I will explain how the three main characters came to life:

One long-running real-life drama going on, has criticised newspaper media. Management and reporters of a global news organisation were allegedly engaged in illegal and immoral practices, such as phone hacking, to get news stories. This got me thinking about the type of newspaper magnates that might condone or resort to underhand activities, and so my heroine’s newspaper boss – Joe Mathers – was born. He is a rogue who has taken a fancy to his young intern, Cally Hammond. Of course, she wants nothing to do with him. Joe is rotten enough to hire my hero, Jake Stone, to train her into submission.

Now Jake is a bit of an enigma. His character developed after reading about Special Forces operatives, working recently in dangerous war zones. I always wondered what most of these guys do with their “transferable skills” after leaving the forces. Some have gone on to become successful writers and media presenters in their own right: Chris Ryan, Andy McNab and Bear Grylls, to name but a few. But the rest?

Well ex-Special Forces, Jake Stone, is a tough, determined, dominant male who uses his training to provide a different sort of specialist service – training submissives!! As a tribute to this year’s Olympics [London 2012] – I made him a bit athletic too…

What Jake doesn’t realise is that he needs a good woman permanently in his life.

Enter Cally (stage left).

Part of her existence arose from my personal knowledge of a young woman who has just spent a year doing an internship for a magazine publisher. I was amazed at all the things this woman was expected to do, for no payment whatsoever, simply to get the experience she required, to enable her to get a paid job eventually. Opportunity? Exploitation?

Cally is equally dedicated to her future career and goes undercover to expose businessman Jake Stone (unaware it is a ruse, concocted by her boss). She is as determined as Jake to get what she wants.

Cue: fireworks!

Of course, the novel has clear submission themes and this is where my blogging buddies have helped me out. Many people live the BDSM lifestyle and they are all very unique. Their shared experiences have helped me to develop Jake’s and Cally’s own Dominant/Submissive sides. They were meant to be together.  However, their equal resolve to get their own job done, gets in the way of this happening.

So, you see, the story really started with the characters. They all want something from each other. It’s not what they think, though! Now I believe it’s high time you patient people got a peek at what they all got up to.

Blurb – PA Exposé

Aspiring journalist, Cally Hammond, believes she is undercover to expose dominating company executive, Jake Stone. However, she has been duped by her real boss, into undergoing training to become sexually submissive.

Jake is an enthusiastic master who exposes Cally to bondage, correction, and submission to his will. The shocking experience re-awakens a dormant side of Cally’s personality which Jake can’t help reacting to.

But both have a mission to fulfil. Will they succeed, and what secrets will be exposed in the process?

 

Available from:

http://www.amazon.com/PA-Expose-submission-Romance-ebook/dp/B008LWR7AU/ref=sr_1_10?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1342527976&sr=1-10&keywords=PA+Expose

http://www.amazon.co.uk/PA-Expose-submission-Romance-ebook/dp/B008LWR7AU/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_1

http://www.xcitebooks.co.uk/Book/1265/7714/PA-Expose.html

*****

Excerpt – PA Exposé – this is where Cally arrives for her ‘job interview’ with Jake:

Cally pushed through the double glass doors which whooshed briskly closed behind her and passed an unmanned reception desk. Jake Stone’s name was clearly outlined on a plaque on his door – he loved his gold plaques – so she knocked sharply and entered.

Sitting across the room, behind a huge mahogany desk, was a man. Not an older man, like Mathers. About mid-30s. Not an ugly man either. Rather gorgeous, actually. Her heart skipped a beat. And she was still only looking at the top of his head. Thick, dark hair, short, well groomed. He hadn’t even looked up yet.

She cleared her throat. ‘I did knock,’ she explained.

He failed to acknowledge her. Cally began to feel a little uncomfortable. She wanted to fill the silence that grew around her while he continued to read the papers in a folder on his desk. ‘Shall I wait outside?’

Her left her standing there feeling more and more awkward.

Cally tried to make the decision for him. ‘I can see you’re busy.’ Geez, the least he could do was say something. Anything. ‘I’ll wait outside.’

She got to the door. Just as she opened it to leave, he spoke. ‘Shut the door.’

She presumed he meant behind her and tried to slip through the opening.

‘How dare you enter my office without permission?’ His tone was cool, modulated. Dangerous. Sexy as hell.

‘I’m sorry –’

‘I have not given you permission to speak.’

Cally was startled. She had never been addressed that way in her life. Even by Mathers. She wanted to tell him to drop dead, but the words hung on her lips.

He had the sexiest pair of deep brown eyes she had ever seen in her life, and they were looking straight through her. And she wanted the job. The other one. She knew what she had to do to get it.

‘Sorry,’ she repeated. Her heart pounded.

‘Let’s get the first lesson out of the way, Miss Hammond,’ he said, rising. ‘You speak when I say you can and not until then. Are we clear?’

She was just about to affirm verbally when his raised eyebrows, stopped her. She closed her open mouth.

‘Good.’ He rose and paced slowly toward her. ‘Learn to please me quickly. I expect no less from my personal assistant than that she pleases me.’

Cally swallowed down the lump that was building nervously in her throat, choking off her breathing, as he towered over her. The way he said pleases left her in no doubt as to what he was alluding. Sex. Everything about Jake Stone screamed sex. Hot, hard, and his way. No wonder his PAs didn’t last too long.

‘In everything,’ he added, cranking up the tension. Hers.

The tone of his last remark, no less than the remark itself, had Cally wishing she could bolt for the door. But he had circled around her like a seasoned predator and was standing between her and her only means of escape. She stepped into the room a little more to widen the gap between them.

‘Stand still!’ he commanded. ‘I have not given you permission to move.’

The sound reverberated in her ears, over and over. He left the remark hanging for at least a minute, in which Cally’s heart started to thump seriously now in her chest. Slow and heavy and deadly.

‘Lesson two,’ he announced. ‘You don’t speak without my permission and you will stand in one place all day, unless I give you my permission to move.’

Cally was as still as a bronze sculpture.

‘Is that clear?’ Each word was ground out, easy, his mouth so close to her ear she could feel his hot breath waft the long, blonde hairs at her temple and shiver over her skin.

What was she to do? Answer him? Say nothing? Her head began to spin with the complexity of it. This wasn’t what she was expecting at all.

He waited, standing behind her, which increased her anxiety, as she wasn’t allowed to turn around to watch what he was doing. She could feel his eyes roaming all over her figure as if they were his hands and found herself warming in anticipation of the latter.

Gradually the silence, the unspoken control he wielded, ratcheted up the pressure in the room. Her lips were desert dry and she put out her tongue to lick them.

Suddenly he was standing before her. He was large. He loomed over her. She felt fragile, delicately feminine in a way she had never felt before around a man.

He rubbed a thumb roughly over her moistened lips, making her start. ‘You moved,’ he told her quietly. ‘And now you have made me angry.’

He didn’t seem to Cally to be any angrier than before, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She froze again.

‘I will be the one who decides if your lips are to be moistened,’ he continued.

A wild throbbing began between her thighs, with a pulsing that matched the steady, deep beat of her heart, in unexpected excitement at this game of control. Who knew?

‘Perhaps I might permit you to lick your lips. Or perhaps I would choose to lick them myself.’ Jake Stone leant in, without touching her anywhere else, and ran his tongue slowly over her swollen, sensitised skin.

Cally found herself shudder with the shock. He had invaded her personal space. He had touched her. Licked her. She was stunned by experiencing a feeling of growing need. A need to press her tingling lips tightly back to his. A need to put her hands between her thighs, to relieve the tension building there.

‘If you are to be acceptable as my PA, then you must learn that your body belongs to me. You don’t touch it unless I instruct you to.’

It was as if he could read her mind. Knew the cravings that were building inside her. Or perhaps he could see the minute little twitching movements she could not prevent her hips from making, in order to ease the sexual demands of her own body.

‘Take off your pantyhose,’ he whispered softly, making her flinch. ‘I do not permit my PA to wear such unattractive garments. If I employ you as my PA, you will wear stockings or keep your legs bare. I will tell you when each is required.’

Cally’s eyes widened. Was she going to do as he demanded? She would not be able to remove them without pulling her tight skirt up to her waist. She hesitated.

‘Not good enough,’ he informed her. His hands reached round her waist and briskly snapped open the button, drawing the zip downwards. He yanked her skirt down and let it drop in a pool around her feet. ‘When I tell you to do something,’ he ground out, ‘I don’t mean think about it, I mean do it. Straight away. Do you think you have a choice in the matter?’

Already she knew she wasn’t expected to answer him. He had yet to give her permission to speak. She felt foolish standing before him in a blouse, panties, pantyhose. And stilettos. And it wasn’t those that had her all off-balance.

Jake had stepped back, settling his hip on the desk as if to get a better view, while she complied. His body language told her he expected no refusal. Yet she could refuse, she told herself. She didn’t need his stinking job. She could go back and tell her real boss that Jake Stone was a jerk, impossible to work for. She would have to prove herself capable of being a good reporter, some other way. With Mathers.

Cally took a steadying breath. He couldn’t berate her for breathing. She wasn’t prepared to throw in the towel quite so soon. She was made of sterner stuff than that. In fact, she didn’t want to have to go skulking back, to tell Mathers she wasn’t quite up to the rigours of investigative journalism and have him say “I told you so”, while he stroked her bottom sympathetically. She shuddered at the thought.

Her fingers were already in the waistband of her pantyhose. She eased them off her hips and down, revealing skimpy, white, lacy underwear. She wished she’d put on less revealing lingerie that morning.

*****

About Kristal Baird

Kristal has lived in a few different countries as far apart as Australia and Scotland (I wanted a Z really but haven’t lived in one, yet – any suggestions?) with several more places in between. She loves books and started writing her own a few years ago. She has a big dog who wants to walk far more often than she does (but he keeps her healthy) and a sleepy cat, who she is very jealous of (especially first thing in the morning when the cat wakes Kristal up an hour or two before the alarm clock goes off, to feed it and then goes back to sleep again, leaving a sleepy Kristal to get up alone!!).

She’s had some pretty interesting jobs including driving a four ton truck for a touring theatre company (and crashed it!) and working as an au pair for an alpine ski-ing instructor…

Kristal is quite laid-back about life and one of her fave things is to laugh. A lot! She reckons she could have made Genghis Khan not quite such an old meanie… One of Kristal’s (many) ambitions is to walk the entire El Camino de Santiago. Anybody want to come with her? She loves meeting lots of different people and is quite friendly really.

Come on over and say Hi:

http://kristalbaird.blogspot.co.uk/

https://twitter.com/kristalbaird

https://www.facebook.com/KristalBairdAuthor

http://www.goodreads.com/goodreadscomuser_kristalbaird

Well, that’s it, for now, you’ll be happy to hear. I’ve had a fabulous time creating this for you all. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for asking me over, Kd. Mwah x

Kristal x

Lexie Bay Tells Us The Story Behind The Story of Last Chance Summer

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The Story Behind The Story

It’s my pleasure to welcome back the delicious Lexie Bay. I’ve had the privilege of being in several anthologies with Lexie, and it’s always an honour.  Once again we’re in between the covers together in the fabulous anthology, Smut By the Sea, edited by that dynamic duo, Lucy Felthouse and Victoria Blisse. Lexie is here to share the story behind her story, Last Chance Summer. Take it away, Lexie!

Hi KD, thanks for having me over today to talk about my latest story which appears in Smut By The Sea.

I’ve lived by the sea for eleven years now, moving down here after my eldest was born and I spent just under a year living right on the beach in Pevensey Bay not so long ago. There’s something incredible about waking up in the morning and gazing out onto that vast expanse of water. It makes you feel like anything is possible, that you could go anywhere and do anything. Even now I only have to catch sight of the sea between the downs as I’m heading to work in the mornings and it lifts my spirits. It makes me think of faraway places and unexpected adventures.

I based Last Chance Summer in Pevensey Bay not just because I know it so well but because it’s got that small fishing village feel but without the bleakness of some coastal resorts. You don’t get the feeling that everyone is desperate to leave the Bay, instead it’s a fun place to be and Jessie loves living there.

I wanted to give you a little tour of the place to set the scene for the story. For such a tiny village, Pevensey Bay has more pubs in the space of about half a mile than some cities, but The Beach Tavern, where my two main characters Jessie and Tommy meet for a drink is my favourite. I even included the lovely landlord Stephan in my story as he’s my biggest promoter in the Bay, so thanks honey and if anyone is ever in town, head straight down here for a very warm welcome! Here’s a picture so that you can get an idea of how big the village is. This is the main road running through it, not far from the rec where Jessie meets Tommy at the fair and just around the bend from the café where Jessie’s friend Danni works.

Another key element of my story is the old fishing boat Scratcher, a local landmark on the beach. I don’t think the locals would approve of what Jessie and Tommy get up to while they’re there, but I’ve always thought it would be an excellent place to hide away on the beach for a little bit of kinky fun! Here’s a picture (painted by my super talented artist mum, Rory Drysdale) so you can see Scratcher for yourself.

Anyway I hope that I’ve given you a little bit of insight into my character’s life and the village where she lives. I love it here and if you’re ever down this way, you can visit all of Jessie’s favourite places too!

So back to the actual story! Last Chance Summer is based right in the middle of one of those heat waves we used to get in England back when we had snow in the winter and sun in the summer; before this all year round drizzle we get nowadays! Jessie is looking for adventure and Tommy is looking for a good time. They meet amongst the bright lights and sweet smells of the fun fair and neither can deny the spark between them. It all leads to a summer that will stay with Jessie for a very long time. I’ve included a little teaser for you, so enjoy and maybe I’ll see you down the Beach Tavern for a pint of local ale. I can’t promise a personal visit to Scratcher though 😉

Love Lexie xx

 

Blurb:

Jessie has lived in the tiny fishing village of Pevensey Bay all her life and is about to move to London after finishing university. She’s at home for the summer and knows that this is likely to be the last time she has six weeks stretching ahead of her with all the endless possibilities that come with it. Not wanting to waste a second of it, when the fun fair comes to town, she meets Tommy and embarks on a summer fling that leads to an adventure she’ll never forget.

Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks

 

Last Chance Summer – Extract

Of course we arrive at the Rec way before the fair opens. Danni has brought snacks and we munch through a bar of chocolate and a bag of salt and vinegar crisps, watching as they carry out all the last minute checks.

“Do ya wanna test some of the rides for us, ladies?” a big Irish sounding guy shouts over to us. We look over at him and then at each other. Danni mouths the word “hottie” at me and giggles.

“Ah, come on, it’s perfectly safe and it’s all for free. Sure, you’ll be doing me a favour; me Da will be on me case if I don’t get these going.”

“C’mon,” Danni hisses, “you won’t get a better offer than that! Even I have to admit that one’s cute.”

We stand up and walk over to where he’s grinning at us. I can’t help but stare at him. He’s even hotter than I hoped for. Think a young Gerard Butler with a hint of Brad Pitt in Snatch. His hair is dark and messy, long enough to touch the top of his sexy white t-shirt and his blue eyes are sparkling as he looks us up and down.

“I’m guessing you like the funfair?” he laughs. “You’ve been sitting waiting for ages and we’ve still got another 40 minutes til we open.”

I nod suddenly tongue-tied. He’s gorgeous and I can feel myself blushing from my toes to my cheeks. His biceps are bulging out of his vest, his jeans slung low on his hips and oh my God he’s wearing cowboy boots. I think I might come on the spot.

“Well come on pretty ladies, hop on and let’s make sure all the nuts and bolts are tight before we open the gates.”

He takes my hand as he helps us into the bucket seat of the Waltzer. “This is my ride,” he grins, “I helped me brothers put it together yesterday so you’re putting your lives into me hands here.” I’m so busy enjoying the warmth of his grip that I forget to speak. Danni nudges me and frowns.

“Did it take you long?” I ask fluttering my eyelashes at him, squeezing his hand as I step into the car. I smile as he watches me, his eyes drawn to my boobs spilling out of my tight t-shirt and the way my hot pants tighten around my tanned thighs as I sit down.

“Not really,” he shrugs, “we know what we’re doing.”

“I’ll bet you do,” I murmur, my gaze lingering on his full lips, imagining how they would feel all over my naked body.

He winks at me and drops the bar, moving round behind us. “I hope you like to spin, girls, I have a feeling this is going to be a wild ride.”

I’m oblivious to anything but the smell of him as he stands behind us and the lights flash across the roof of the ride. “Remember babe; scream if you wanna go faster!” He winks at me again and I finally get my flirt on. I blow him a kiss as he starts up the ride. He says something but his words are lost as the heavy bass line starts up and the ride begins to move.

I can feel the adrenaline rush almost immediately. This is where I’m happiest, amongst the grease, the bright lights and the pounding music. It’s such a turn on. Intermingled in all of the dirty, noisy chaos is the fresh scent of the sea, lending a magical twist to the whole thing, transporting us; reminding me of beach holidays abroad. I want to snog the face off this cute guy. I want to feel his tongue in my mouth, his body pressing against mine while the adrenaline pumps through my body. He’d be wild and crazy, not caring who saw us, claiming me as his and ravaging my willing body at every opportunity. The heady rush of the spinning ride is making me giddy and the tantalising flashes of his incredible arms as he spins us faster and faster are the ultimate turn on.

“Come on ladies, I wanna hear you scream.”

We squeal, almost unable to speak as he spins the car faster and faster.

“Ah come on now, is that it? I’m sure I can make you scream louder than that.”

I can hardly see him as we whirl past but I could swear he winks at me.

I would love for him to make me scream. I think he would make me moan and whimper too, his cock driving into me making every inch of my body scream for him. Fuck, my nipples are like bullets straining against my t-shirt as I imagine us together.

Danni screams as the music gets louder and he spins us even faster. She clutches my hand and I look over. She looks a bit green and I have to say I’m relieved when the ride finally slows and the music dies down. The Waltzer comes to a halt and he raises the bar.

“I think I’m gonna puke,” Danni mutters as he helps us out of the car, “back in a minute.”

She legs it over to the toilet block and disappears inside.

“Do ya think your mates OK?” he asks as he stares at me, his eyes dancing.

“Yeah, she’ll be fine, she always thinks she’s gonna throw up but she never does.”

We stand there, an awkward silence between us. I try desperately to think of something to say.

 

Lexie Bay

Lexie started writing to immerse herself in a fantasy world where women are adored and men fall at their feet.  Then she realised that sometimes men do that so you can stomp all over them in your sexy stiletto boots and since then she’s been creating stories that touch on her original romantic dream while exploring the erotic, the kinky and sometimes the downright filthy.  She finally found the courage to unleash her stories into the world and now writes about anything that emerges from the murky depths of her imagination, whenever she gets the opportunity.

Lexie lives with her husband and two daughters on the south coast of England, and spends her days working as an accounts manager. She loves the adrenaline rush of the unexpected, craves peace to write every day, likes to lose herself in the realms of fantasy and has a thing for smells that take her back to her childhood.

You can find her stories in Uniform Behaviour and Seducing The Myth edited by Lucy Felthouse as well as in Immoral Views published by Kojo Black at Sweetmeats Press.

Find Lexie at:

http://www.lexiebay.co.uk

http://www.twitter.com/Lexie_Bay

http://www.facebook.com/LexieBayAuthor

The Fully-formed Birth of Vina Jackson

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After some IT glitches and a two-day game of email tag, it’s my pleasure to welcome the multi-facetted Vina Jackson, author of the exciting new erotic romance Eighty Days Yellow to a Hopeful Romantic.

As I write, EIGHTY DAYS YELLOW by Vina Jackson is no 6 on the Sunday Times bestseller list and has been in the top ten for the last three weeks.

But if a computer hadn’t engineered for two total strangers to sit quite by chance on opposite seats on a train from London to the provinces, John Grisham’s new novel might be no 6 instead and, worse, Vina Jackson would not exist at all!

Fate certainly moves in mysterious ways.

Vina Jackson is actually two writers, writing together under a pseudonym.  Yet until a few months ago we had never even met.

It all began when one of us was invited to attend a literary festival outside London, while the other decided to attend at short notice and purchased a ticket, on the recommendation of a friend.

So, on a very early Saturday morning as winter was turning into spring, both of us arrived at Euston station, with tickets booked online, only to find a train which was at best barely 10% full and our allocated seats facing each other while the rest of the carriage barely housed half a dozen other travellers. Any of us could have moved elsewhere in the carriage to enjoy more privacy, but then this is Britain and we all probably felt it would be rude to do so.

For hours we all sat together, respectively reading, daydreaming, listening to music on iPods or eating, saying not a word to one another only to discover, several hours afterwards at the literary festival while drinking the welcoming coffee, that the three of us that had all been grouped together by the bookings computer were attending the same event… and had all taken separate taxis from the station.

Several weeks later one of us contacted the other for some professional advice and thus two strangers who had met by chance on a train began emailing regularly.

We were both writers with a penchant for racey romance, and in passing one of us mentioned an unusual story about an antique violin that they’d read in a newspaper. Perverse minds think alike and we both thought there was a stub of an idea for a novel there, ready to be written. And then we moved on to other matters, stories to write, lives to live, other things to do.

A few months passed and the idea to write a novel together  kept bubbling away so we decided to meet up at London’s Groucho Club and later exchanged ideas and suggestions over meals in Chinatown.  And it was then that we agreed to write four opening chapters, in alternate voices, and to then send it to a literary agent to see if there was anything there to interest a publisher.

We came up with the character of the violin player busking in the Tube and the university professor who is captivated by her playing and we improvised some way they could meet. Thus Summer and Dominik were born. And so was Vina Jackson. Along with a proposal and several sample chapters for two novels, featuring their adventures in the world of sex and BDSM.

The literary agent Sarah Such loved the material and signed us up, submitting to London publishing houses within a few days. And overnight the first offers began coming in. As the level of interest grew, so did the size of the offers as well as the suggestion that it could even make a trilogy. So Vina Jackson agreed to write a third volume, and soon a six-figure deal was done with the wonderful folk at Orion.

By then, of course, the collected works of E.L. James were weaving their magic on the bestseller lists and Orion suggested we could maybe write all three books in 3 months. Vina didn’t protest too much and agreed, to ensure the trilogy would be published within weeks of delivery of the respective manuscripts, and catch the zeitgeist.

The first volume EIGHTY DAYS YELLOW was published in early August, and its sequels EIGHTY DAYS BLUE and EIGHTY DAYS RED are out in September and October. It will soon be published in the USA by Open Road Media and so far has sold translation rights in ten territories, including Germany, France, Italy and Japan.

It was never meant to rival Fifty Shades of Grey, as neither of us have even read it! But we did want to write a strong erotic romance, with believable characters and non-stop action, which we hope is well-written and entertaining. And that you enjoy reading the EIGHTY DAYS trilogy.

Meanwhile beware who you sit opposite next time you take a train.  You may end up writing a racey romance trilogy with a complete stranger…

Blurb:

Caught in a frustrating relationship with a man who can’t accept her for who she is, passionate, flame-haired violinist Summer finds release in her music. She spends her afternoons busking on the underground, lost in the works of Vivaldi or Mendelssohn. When her violin is damaged beyond repair, Summer receives a surprising proposition from Dominik, a university professor with powerful desires, who has been captivated by Summer ever since he heard her perform. Dominik will replace her priceless violin, but only if she agrees to play for him in a private concert.

Unable to deny the chemistry between them, Dominik and Summer embark on an intense affair full of daring twists and turns, as unpredictable as it is thrilling. For Summer it is a chance to finally embrace her long-denied dark side, but she’ll soon learn that where there’s pleasure must come pain. And can a relationship born of such all-consuming passion, ever really survive?

Exhilarating, seductive and tantalisingly bold, EIGHTY DAYS is a love story that will leave you breathless for more.

Buy Eighty Days Yellow here:

eBook:

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

Print:

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com (pre-order)

 

 

 

The Story Behind the Story of Kyoko Church’s Novella, Nymphomania

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The Story Behind The Story

It’s my pleasure to welcome Kyoko Church to A Hopeful Romantic. This is her first visit to my site, and I’m very excited to have her here to share the story behind her intriguing new novella, Nymphomania, Book One of the Draper Estates Trilogy. Welcome, Kyoko. Do tell!

 

Thank you very much for having me on your blog today, KD. I’m so honoured!

You asked how the story for my very first book, Nymphomania, Book One in the Draper Estates Trilogy, came to be. I’m so glad you asked! It’s a quirky subject matter.

I don’t know about you but sometimes I love to browse Wikipedia. I especially love to read about all things sexual. Something about the clinical way they describe sexual acts appeals to the pervert in me. A couple of years ago I came across this page http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Female_hysteria. From then I was hooked on the subject of “hysteria.”

That article led me to a book by Rachel P. Maines called The Technology of Orgasm about the history of the vibrator. I became fascinated by the idea that “proper” women in the 19th century and earlier, were thought to not need or want or even be capable of sexual satisfaction. As now seems abundantly obvious as to why, a large number of women in this era suffered from what was termed hysteria, the symptoms of which were everything from headaches to nervousness to “a tendency to cause trouble.” I can only imagine the trouble I’d be causing if I couldn’t acknowledge the need to get off! But I digress. As I was saying, they required treatment from a doctor to reach “hysterical paroxysm,” i.e. orgasm, that temporarily cured their symptoms. They were the doctor’s perfect client since they required regular treatment and were never permanently cured!  These ideas really got my, ahem, creative juices flowing.

NymphomaniaNymphomania is set in the mid 1800s in Boston. Ewan Draper is a successful mill owner and playboy. In order to satisfy appearances he must choose a wife, and he selects Lillianne, one of his “mill girls.” For Lilly, originally a farm girl now bored by life at the dreary mill, it is a dream come true. But when Ewan discovers his new bride behaving improperly, his friend and dubiously accredited doctor, Phillip Samms, deems her a nymphomaniac and assumes her care. Lillianne is forced to submit to the doctor’s research and therapy, therapy that includes paroxysm which he insists must be brought about slowly, while she is bound and made to be quiet.

Lillianne must convince her beloved new groom of his friend’s questionable motives and prove that she does not truly belong under his care. But what Ewan must avoid at all costs is a scandal that could threaten the viability of the mill, the empire he has built. The mere possibility of his wife being labeled a nymphomaniac and thrown into an insane asylum is enough to make him very leery. So Ewan decides Phillip Samms will leave and he will monitor his wife himself. If she can prove herself chaste and proper, he will tell Dr. Samms they no longer require his services. And the life Lillianne dreamed of when she married Ewan Draper will be realized.

But all the while someone is watching. Someone who could be a threat.

Many of the details in Nymphomania were inspired by historical facts I came across in my research, including the pervading thoughts of the time on nymphomania as a real affliction and such juicy tidbits as Lillianne’s improper use of her sewing machine.

 

Here’s an excerpt:

It wasn’t just the monotony. The work on the machine itself was distracting.

As she worked the treadles her thighs rubbed together and this, combined with the vibrations of the machine, well, Lilly had heard that one girl had gotten herself in trouble this way. The two foremen patrolling the mill always had an ear primed to hear the telltale sound of a machine suddenly bursting into a frenzied speed. Rules were strict here and the girls were harshly punished and even docked pay for straying from their work. But docked pay was not the worst of punishments. The way Lilly heard it, last month Mr. Weiler, the older of the two foremen, caught a girl using the machine “improperly.” Lilly shuddered as she thought of the wrinkled, gap toothed grin of the lecherous old man the way it must have been, the way she heard he’d grabbed the girl up, snarling that he would give her what she wanted, and shoved her into the back office. Nothing could be heard over the frightening din of the machines they’d said, but when the girl emerged fifteen minutes later, the pathetic creature’s eyes were red from crying, her lip was swollen and her skirts were torn. She’d disappeared the next morning leaving a note saying she’d gone back to her family’s farm.

So Lilly tried her best to focus on her work. But her mind often betrayed her. And it always seemed to find its way back to Ewan Draper.

She had seen the mill’s owner only once before when he came to consult with the foremen. She did her best not to let her gaze linger too long as he strode across the factory floor, but her quick glimpses drank in his six foot three frame, wavy black hair, wide shoulders and narrowed waist in his finely tailored suit. His stride was long, each step certain and purposeful. His voice commanded respect but his smile was wide and easy. When he laughed it was a profound, sonorous sound from deep within his gut, and he slapped the backs of the men he spoke with. He had actually walked down her aisle and stopped right by her as she worked. She had held her breath and didn’t dare look up, but his hand had lingered for a moment on the edge of her machine as he discussed some small point with the foreman. The size of that hand! She stared raptly at the wide palm and long, thick fingers, something almost brutal in the circumference and apparent strength of each one. She had a sudden impulse to grab that hand, take one of those digits between her lips and suck it. Madness! She had shoved the ridiculous thought aside as her body shivered.

Now the thought returned. Diligently she sat, pushing the coarse fabric deftly through, working the treadle up and down, her thighs squeezed tightly together, her machine drumming its threaded road along its fabric path. The hammering of the needle caused vibrations to pulse through her chair and she worked to push her buttocks closer to the edge of her seat, so slowly as to be barely perceptible. In her mind she caressed Mr. Draper’s hand, slid her own slim fingers between his broad ones, brought them to her cheek and then kissed each finger softly. Now at the edge of her seat she pushed herself down, spread and flattened the soft folds of her flesh firmly on the fabric of her skirts and against the hard wood so as to experience the full intensity of its vibrations. Her thoughts turned to taking that hand, those fingers and pulling them up, under her skirts, between her legs. Slowly she worked the speed up on her treadle, the pushing up and down only serving to further work her thighs against her swelling flesh. She tried hard to keep from gasping as sweat sprang to her brow and began to roll down her temples. Mr. Draper’s imaginary fingers found their target and it took every fibre of her being not to work the treadle to its highest velocity, thereby arousing the suspicion of the wicked Mr Weiler. Instead she continued her steady pace as the vibrations brought her ever closer to her destination.

‘Halt!’ roared the foreman, and Lilly had to stifle a strangled cry of desperation as she unwillingly forced her foot off the treadle causing the vibration to cease.

‘Mr Draper will be visiting the mill in five minutes! This time he wants to take a small amount of time to speak to his mill girls.’ A buzz went around the room. Mr Draper to address the mill girls? ‘I know this is highly usual! I’m sure you’re all excited but let us not allow our emotions to override our good sense. I expect you all to show the highest amount of decorum and industriousness.’

The noise level increased as all the girls turned to each other to converse in giddy anticipation of their much esteemed leader. Lilly, however, was still preoccupied. Her body throbbing, she took advantage of the renewed noise level to gear up her machine to its highest speed. Her mind swirled with thoughts of Ewan Draper now that his presence was imminent: his powerful stride, his commanding voice, his deep laugh. With everyone preoccupied, she worked her treadles furiously, her lower body writhing against the humming chair as she imagined Draper’s hands probing her, rubbing her, taking her. She swallowed her whimpering cries and had just about, had almost, almost, reached her peak just as Ewan Draper entered the mill and Mr Weiler’s piercing eyes fell upon her.

 

I hope you find the subject matter as interesting as I do! If you’d like to download it, you can get it from Amazon here:

http://www.amazon.com/Nymphomania-Draper-Estates-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B008VGY0MO/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1344664784&sr=1-3&keywords=nymphomania

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Nymphomania-Draper-Estates-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B008VGY0MO/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1345120916&sr=1-2

 

If you’d like to visit me at my blog, click here:

http://kyokochurch.blogspot.com.au/?zx=a58e672f5f41d866

I love to hear your feedback. I invite you to leave your comments! I often post snippets of stuff  I’m working on so if you follow me there you’ll often get a preview of my upcoming work!

*****

Kyoko Church discovered the power of the written erotic word when she was 16 years old and penned a very explicit missive to her boyfriend detailing all the naughty things she wanted to do to him. When he received it, boyfriend was impressed. When he found it, father was not.

For the next 18 years she hid her naughty thoughts in shame. Until she found a community where they were once again appreciated for the well-imagined smut they are. Her short stories have been published in anthologies by Black Lace, Rubicund Publishing and Xcite Books. Book One, Nymphomania, in her Draper Estate Trilogy was published by Xcite in August 2012. At Her Feet will be published by Mischief in March 2013.

A Canuck by birth, she has recently made Australia her home. She is currently learning to drive on the left and say G’day convincingly.

 

Website: kyokochurch.blogspot.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/kyoko.church

Twitter: https://twitter.com/kyokochurch

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/kyokochurch/

 

You can find Kyoko Church’s most recent short stories in these anthologies:

http://www.amazon.com/Captivated-Very-Own-Slave-ebook/dp/B007QOXGYK/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1342357904&sr=1-1&keywords=captivated+my+very+own+slave

http://www.amazon.com/My-Secret-Life-What-ebook/dp/B007E3ERTQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1335016436&sr=1-1

http://www.amazon.com/Submission-Treasury-Women-Like-ebook/dp/B006PW46PC/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1344665834&sr=1-1&keywords=submission+treasury