Category Archives: New Releases

Buried Secrets by Emme Rollins

September 13, 2013Guest Blogger, New Releasesburied secrets, emme rollins, new adult, new release, romance, suspenseK D Grace

BLURB:

Should some secrets remain buried?

Dusty has always been a hothead, far more impulsive than her twin, Nick, the calm, cool and collected one of the pair. But Nick is dead, found murdered in their local cemetery, and Dusty simply can’t rest until she finds out who–or what–has killed her brother.

Sure the local authorities aren’t being straight with her–or anyone else–about what’s been going on in their little upper Michigan town, Dusty delays going off to college for a semester, defying her father and stepmother and taking a job in the local bar to start doing some digging.

Her focus soon fixes on Shane, her brother’s best friend and the town bad boy. The tension and rivalry between Dusty and Shane has always been palpable and sparks fly as the two collide. Dusty finds herself sinking in deeper with Shane and the mystery of what happened to her brother–and a lengthening list of victims–grows even stranger.

When everything comes to a head, Dusty focuses on one thing: What happened the night her brother was killed in the cemetery? She’s sure Shane is keeping a secret and she’s determined to find out what it is, one way or another.

Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US

EXCERPT:

“Nick told me something the last time I saw him… alive.”

She closed her eyes, not sure why she was telling him. Maybe it was the way he turned his head toward her before inhaling deeply, like he was trying to breathe her in. Maybe it was the way he cupped her shoulder in his hand, like he was holding something delicate—a tiny field mouse or a baby bird—and he was trying to be careful not to startle it. But mostly she thought it was the memory of his kiss in the darkness, the way he had taken it, how he had groaned and given into her response in that one brief moment before his senses returned.

“What did he tell you?” Shane’s spine straightened slightly, breath catching in his chest. He went completely still, like a deer caught in the shine of a poacher’s flashlight.

“He said he saw the way you look at me.” She hesitated, hearing his intake of breath when her hand moved to his thigh. Leaving it there, halfway up, she rested her head in the crook of his shoulder, feeling him breathing again. “And he saw the way I look at you.”

“What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”

“Nick said he had the feeling, if he hadn’t been around, we might have ended up together.” Dusty lifted her chin to see his reaction. He didn’t look surprised, not like she had been. They were very close now. Close enough she could see the reddish stubble on his cheeks and the gold flecks in the light blue of his eyes and that little divot above his lip. She had the impulse to touch him there and repressed it.

“You and me?” he asked, pondering it, lips pursed in thought, making her think about that damnable kiss. She didn’t understand why she was feeling this way. First, the funeral home. Now they were both sitting on her brother’s grave. What was it about her dead brother that revved up her libido around Shane? It went beyond crazy and slipped into the realm of the surreal.

“You and me.” She nodded slowly, fascinated by the shape of his mouth.

“I don’t know.” Shane blinked those striking blue eyes at her, both eyebrows raised. Her attention was drawn down to his mouth again when he licked his lips, drawing the lower one thoughtfully in before asking, “What do you think?”

“I don’t understand why…” She didn’t. She didn’t understand any of it. Her world made no sense anymore. Nick was dead and Shane was here, offering her comfort and something else—she didn’t even know what—after all the years they’d spent sparring and going after each other’s throats.

But he’d come looking for her, had known she would be in the closet. He’d known her temper well enough to hold her back when she would have gone after the idiotic sheriff with her bare hands. And he’d held her and rocked her and let her cry when she needed to, which was far more than anyone else in her life seemed to want to do.

She didn’t understand it, but she knew she was feeling it. And whatever “it” was, it was powerful. Magnetic. It made her want to act, to do something reckless, careless, shameless. It made her feel like she had in the closet of the funeral home, ready to strip down to nothing and give into the feeling. It made her feel like doing that now, right here, on her brother’s grave. It felt wrong and right at the same time.

“What don’t you understand?” he prompted.

Dusty took a deep breath, reaching out and doing it, touching that little divot above his parted lips. She didn’t stop there, tracing the delicious shape of them, feeling him go still again, but it was different this time. This sort of stillness was more predator than prey. It was like the watchful, waiting crouch of an animal.

“I don’t understand why,” she whispered, swallowing as she let her finger trail down over his Adam’s apple, feeling him swallow. “But I think Nick wanted us to kiss and make up.”

“Do you want to?” He turned more fully toward her, the question in his eyes.

“Kiss?” Her finger traced the V of his t-shirt, his jacket still undone.

“Yes.”

His lips were slightly parted, wet. So were hers. They were so close she’d lost focus and longed to close her eyes. Her body thrummed, so very alive, and the irony didn’t escape her because they were surrounded by death. Everything else faded away, lost its shape, until all she could focus on was Shane’s presence, the heat of his body, the way his hands moved down the curve of her shoulders to grip her upper arms.

“I don’t know why,” she confessed, finally letting her eyes close in anticipation, feeling him drawing her closer by micro increments. “But yes. Yes. Yes.”

She whispered the last three words, her lips almost touching his. His breath was warm, fruity and sweet, fingers tightening their grip on her arms.

BIO

Emme Rollins is Top 100 Amazon Bestselling New Adult/Mature Young Adult fiction. She’s been writing since she could hold a crayon and still chews her pen caps to a mangled plastic mess. She did not, however, eat paste as a kid.

She has two degrees, a bachelor’s and a master’s, one of which she’s still paying for, but neither of which she uses out in the “real world,” because when she isn’t writing, she spends her time growing an organic garden to feed her husband and children (and far too many rabbits and deer!) where they live on twenty gorgeous forested acres in rural Michigan.

She loves tending her beehives (bees are wonderful pollinators and Hello!? Honey!) and keeping up with her daily yoga practice and going for long walks in the woods with her boxer, Rodeo, who loves chasing squirrels almost as much as Emme loves writing!

Social Media Links

Site: http://www.emmerollins.com

Blog: http://www.emmerollins.com/blog

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/emmerollinsfanpage

Twitter: http://twitter.com/emmerollins

Google Plus: https://plus.google.com/104962183698626394500

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/18901147-emme-rollins

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/emmerollins/

Tumblr: http://emmerollins.tumblr.com/

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Zak Jane Keir’s Black Heart: No Virgins, No Billionaires, Lots of Heat

August 30, 2013Blog, Guest Blogger, New ReleasesBDSM, Black Heart, erotic fiction, erotica, femdom, new release, novel, Zak Jane KeirK D Grace

On Writing Black Heart

While I still haven’t actually read 50 Shades of Grey, I read a lot of the hype and praise – and criticism – of it last summer, and I started thinking about how boring I personally find the whole trope of Vacant Virgin and Bastard Billionaire. I wanted to do something that was about as far away from the standard woman-discovering-true-sexuality-at-the-hands-of-a-master as I could get, and I had this initially vague idea of an older woman and a gorgeous young man. And I decided to make him a musician because I have always been a rock chick with a serious weakness for musicians. That led on to the idea of two musicians in the same band, both of whom lust after the older woman and also have a strong attraction for one another and similar sub/bisexual fantasies.

I already had a ‘universe’ to work in, because I wrote a novella about five years ago called The Master’s Voice, which featured Ricky and Malorie, a couple of switches who run a sex shop and their friend Natasha, a dominatrix. I’ve also written a few short stories set in that world, and I felt as though I had a place to start, although Rosa, Daniel, Gary and Kester were all new characters. I think initially I was considering Rosa as someone who had left the fetish scene to marry some man who turned out to be a loser, or too vanilla, and then she would decide for some reason to go to a club for the first time in years and see Daniel on stage, but that seemed a bit too unoriginal. Also, Rosa was starting to come alive in my mind, and she just wouldn’t have done something like marry a bore; I wanted to make her back story more interesting than that, and also for her to have a reason for leaving the scene that wasn’t actually about having a broken heart or ‘falling in love’ and wanting to give up kinky stuff for the sake of Mr Right.

I’ve been ‘out’ on the fetish scene for years in real life, and I remember what it was like before the Internet was such a big part of all our lives – and also what the early days of online kinkiness were like. People did get terribly paranoid about the possibility of being outed as perverts, even though it was getting less and less of a newsworthy thing by the turn of the century, and also it was very easy for rumours to get a bit out of hand. I had a lot of fun dredging up my own memories of fetish clubs in the past, as well as going to some of the newer ones in the name of research for the present-day scenes.

One other thing I was determined to do was keep away from the concept that everyone is in, or aspires to be in, a monogamous heterosexual relationship. So there are maid-and-mistress relationships that don’t involve any actual genital sex; threesomes, a bit of gender ambiguity, lots of bisexuality and plenty of bondage and beatings.

Blurb:

Rosa’s has tried to put her kinky days behind her, and built a new life as the landlady of a popular pub. But the past isn’t easily forgotten. It seems like her beautiful new barman Daniel really needs a strict Mistress to take him in hand, and it’s Rosa he has a deep submissive crush on.

Natasha, Rosa’s new best friend, wants to help her rediscover her inner dominatrix, particularly now that legendary fetish club The Scarlet House is about to relaunch.

But Rosa’s previous ventures on the scene ended badly, and Daniel’s relationship with the drummer in his band is closer than he’s letting on. It seems like everyone’s got a dirty little secret deep inside…

Excerpt:
Maybe I am a goddess, she thought. Maybe I could be. Up here, adored, admired, all eyes on me and on my… victim? My prey? I could get so addicted.

His buttocks were already marked with stripes from the cane: three distinct strokes, perfectly spaced. They quivered slightly as he shifted his feet, presumably growing impatient for the next anticipated hit. Out there, in the darkness, she could hear the muted roar of the audience: chattering, whispering, encouraging, and she raised the cane again. It felt good in her hand; thin and whippy and just the right length. Her face felt hot in the black leather mask, and her nipples were hard. Down came the cane with a whoosh and a crack, and his whole body jerked, but he didn’t attempt to straighten up.

This one was a good bottom, obedient and respectful. He appeared to have plenty of self respect as well, and she liked that. She could be remote and cool and untouchable with the grovelling ones and the snivelling ones, but a little bit of personality, a touch of cockiness, those things appealed to her a whole lot more. Another swish, another impact. She’d laid five hard ones on his arse now, and there was one more to go. She licked her lips, drawing out the pause, making him wait for it, making them all wait for it. He wriggled, beginning to squirm, and she realised he was rubbing himself against the whipping stool, that his cock must be hard and in need of relief.

She wondered what was going to happen about that. Would it be considered her responsibility? Did she want to do anything about it? She didn’t want to take him home with her and though she knew that other people sometimes made use of the toilet cubicles for a more direct and immediate release of sexual tension, she didn’t think it would be at all appropriate for her to do so tonight. They were all supposed to perceive her as wholly out of reach, the one who gave nothing away, no matter what rumours they might have heard. That was why she covered herself almost completely in PVC and leather; skintight trousers tucked into high boots, a waistcoat over the corset that pushed her breasts up and out but still concealed all but a tantalising glimpse of cleavage and long, soft leather gloves as well as the mask.

Purchase links

http://www.eburypublishing.co.uk/editions/black-heart/9780753550199

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

About Zak:

Zak Jane Keir has been writing erotica on and off for over 20 years. She has had work published in Forum, Erotic Stories, Fiesta Digest, Penthouse and others. Her published novells incude The Switch and Cathouse And The Castle (out of print, completely unavailable) along with a self-published novellas The Master’s Voice and The Libido Lounge

http://www.lulu.com/shop/zak-jane-keir/masters-voice/paperback/product-5583989.html.

Ellen March Talks About the Writing Life and Her New Novel, Escorting Sydney

August 12, 2013Blog, Guest Blogger, New ReleasesBDSM, Ellen March, erotic fiction, erotica, Escorting Sydney, guest bloggerK D Grace

First I’d like to thank K D Grace for allowing me to guest on her blog site. She’s a diamond and has helped me through some dark times. You know it K D, and I’m eternally grateful to you.

Anyway who said being a writer is lonely. I find my mind awash with people, events, crimes, plots, erotic scenes, you name it and it becomes alive in my scrambled brain. I’ve got so much going on its unbelievable; even in my dreams characters invade every thought. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I actually began to sleep with a notepad and pen. Except without my glasses I can’t see what I’m writing so I’ve wisely given that up. LOL

It’s kind of weird; I can sit on a train look out of the window and miss all the whirring landscape. Instead I’m whisked off to the recesses of my oh so wicked imagination. I could be in the arms of a lover, one of my favourites! Or sometimes I’m the bitch that people love to hate. I discover that I play too good a part at that at times, and hope my inner self is not so dark. But know it’s not, because my sexy soul and naughty humor raises its head and takes over.

At other times maybe I’ll study a person, surreptitiously of course, LOL and wonder about their life. Who they are, what makes them laugh or cry.

What makes me cry, is being in my characters heads when they’re hitting a major sad milestone in their lives. When I’m writing, which is every day, because I cannot not write, I discover I become that person. The emotions, every part of them I feel with a deep intensity. Good, evil, sexy, it all thrives in me, I discover I’m a melting pot of emotions, of characters.

This can me a bit worrying when I write about a particularly vicious character as in Shadow Play which is the second book from the Doms of Drakos series. I loved the evilness of the characters, but again found myself in a murky pool of tears. My dark side also emerges in One Night in Heaven the third of the series, one which I found particularly stimulating. Sadly to such a degree, I began to question myself, my ethics and morals.

However the heroine from Escorting Sydney the first in the Doms of Drakos trilogy has to be one of my favourite characters. She’s overweight, clumsy, swears a lot, and has no sense of style. I can relate to her a lot. Sydney is a sweet laugh out loud rollercoaster of fun.

I’m often asked where I get my ideas from. And I really don’t know. A thought will flourish, and I will nibble at it for a day or two. Then bang! It erupts and I’m away, the words rush through me, the plots smash into each other. And quite honestly I’ve got to be the most disorganized writer around. The words shoot from my fingers, they erupt from my head, and all I know is that I can’t get them down fast enough. I have a rough draft in my befuddled mind, and an ending. I really do try to draft a rough plan, but my characters take me off on different tangents.

When I wrote Wolfsong Lullaby, my reader couldn’t work out who the killer was. How did I manage to hide it so successfully? It was simple, I didn’t know myself, I let the story take me. I have an outline the beginning middle and end. As to the rest I love to be taken along it, surprising me as much as anyone else.

My husband suggested putting up a camera to mirror my emotions. Because every word, every scene is expressed on my face, smiles, scowls, frowns, wickedly sinful giggles, and the tears. I can’t write a sad scene without a box of tissues close to hand. I don’t even know if that’s normal, if other writers experience the same intensity. I’m not acquainted with many, I’ll rephrase that, apart from K D none so that question remains a mystery.

The other problem with my haphazard writing, call it a flaw, I don’t know. But as I’m finishing one novel, my thoughts are already fishing around for another story. Recently I have discovered a love of the paranormal. And totally fallen for some rather hunky vampires along with wicked werecats. I’m currently on the third book of my Wolfsong trilogy, Wolfsong Soul. And my emotions along with theirs have been shredded, and I’m loving every moment of it.

Moving on back to my debut novel Escorting Sydney I wanted a character that everyone could relate to or actually know. A friend or a next door neighbour maybe? I love her crazy sense of humor and I love Logan. He’s so strong, sexy and oh so into BDSM. And he makes an excellent teacher as Sydney soon discovers. What Logan wants he takes, and its Sydney. It’s the classic of opposite’s attracting. An uplifting laugh out loud book that I’d like to think will give readers a happy for now day.

About Ellen March

Ellen March lives in Cefn Cribwr in South Wales. Her three grown up children have left home. She lives with her husband Phil, one cat and five Alaskan Malamutes. Her hobbies are showing her dogs (Her dog Drago has taken two firsts at Crufts) She also enjoys back packing with them in the glorious countryside but her first love is writing.

Since she was a child she devoured any written word and acted out her fantasies in print. Her books take her from the usual nine to five into another universe.

Her ambition is to become a full time writer. She has written twenty five novels, including her first erotic romance, followed by psychological thrillers and recently the paranormal. She is currently writing a trilogy on Vampires and Werecats.

BLURB for Escorting Sydney:

Pretty is an apt description, an exclusive word that just about sums up Sydney. Pretty plain, pretty overweight and pretty devastated when she finds her sister in bed with her boyfriend.

Can life get any worse? Sydney doesn’t think so until she mistakes a billionaire property developer for the male escort she’s hired.

Logan is only too keen to introduce her into his world, fulfilling all her deepest sexual fantasies. The ones she’s stored into the dark recesses of her mind. Under the compartment called filth, shackled with the chains she has dreamed of.

What Logan wants he takes, and it’s Sydney. For two weeks only, she’ll give her body, and he’ll introduce her into a world of sex she’s only ever dreamed of.

So why is she worried when he tells her he’ll only give her what she asks for

Excerpt:

Sydney snuggled beneath the sheet, dreaming. A smile touched and teased her lips. The bitch was there. Looking on when Oliver kissed her, she could almost taste his tongue running along her lips. God, it was so real.

“Mmm, Oliver,” she whispered, a sudden blast of cold air smattered across her skin. Her eyes flew open, straight into the harsh face of Logan. An arm each side of her, he leaned across her.

“Sorry to interrupt your dream.” His voice scraped over her, chilled and hard.

“It’s not what you think.” She attempted to assemble her jumbled thoughts. “I mean yes, I was dreaming and then you kissed me. And I kind of, well, got confused.”

“Honey, don’t you ever fucking confuse me with that asshole.” He was powerless to understand the consuming rage that splintered through him.

“Hey, calm down.” she said. His blazing gaze was directed at her. For fuck’s sake. “And aren’t you the lucky one walking out of my life tomorrow evening?” She felt bad, in fact felt like shit. She hadn’t meant to upset him, but Christ, what the hell did he expect off her, apart from sex?

Yeah, she knew, a paycheck at the end of the day. He’d be moving on, screwing some other lonely, lucky bitch whilst she—it went without saying—would be back dabbling in her toy room. Losing her mind talking to a frigging vibrator, and arguing with a fucking battery, then thought of bully. Her sweet golden boy.

Logan glared down at her, and was amazed that instead of looking nervous, worried, or even guilty, she was lying there with a mysterious madonna smile haunting her lips.

“What the hell are you thinking of?” His steaming anger scrambled through his confused thoughts. “More of Oliver?” he rasped, furious with her reaction.

“No, I was thinking of my toy room,” she admitted, at last glancing up at him. “When you leave that’s what I’m back to. Deciding who or what to use.”

Lady, I’m going nowhere, at least not without you. Logan leaned over, threading his hands through her hair, or attempted to and gave up. God, it was a mess. Forget threading fingers through soft tresses—hers was like an untamed hawthorn hedge.

“Did you use your toys with Oliver?” Wanting to know, he almost choked spitting the last word out.

“Er, no, why?”

“Were you adventurous in the bedroom with him?”

“No, strictly missionary. I wasn’t allowed anything else.” She didn’t want to elaborate in case he thought her strange as well.

“Why? Didn’t you go down on him?” Remembering the blow job, his dick began twitching again.

“Wasn’t allowed.” She fixated on her hands, not wanting to witness the sympathy cross his face.

“And you?”

“Nope.” She twisted the sheet.

“So he never fucked your ass either.” The words dripped out. At last he was beginning to see what sort of sex life they’d had, in total contrast to the night he’d spent with her. “Would you have liked that?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Shame blazed across her face. His hand slid beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Tell me what else you’d like.” His almost-black eyes bored into hers, commanding, not asking. “Now!”

“Chains and handcuffs, to be taken, to be dominated.” Sydney closed her eyes, convinced he’d think her sick.

“I’m glad you’re honest with me.” Fucking hell, woman. Your ex is one screwed-up asshole.

“So why are you asking? Do you think I’m sick?”

“No,” he swore. “Why? Did he think that?”

Dropping her gaze, she nodded her head. “You don’t agree with him?”

“No way.” His thumb grazed across her lip, an oh-so-suckable lip. “I like your freckles.” With a wicked slow tempo, a finger drizzled down her nose, edging across her cheekbone.

“Yeah, bloody great.” Dissolving beneath him, she tried to work out how the hell she was going to cope after tomorrow. She was determined to make the most of tonight, her last night of pure mind-blowing sex. She was going to miss him like hell, still debating whether to ring the agency for an extension.

“I like your wrists.”

My what? She tried to work out where the hell that came from. A fetish of some kind? She hoped so. Kinky?

“I’d like to tie you up.”

Whoa, now we’re talking. “And?”

“And blindfold you.”

“And?” God, she was breathless already.

“And fuck you till you didn’t know what day it was. Hear you screaming, begging me to come. But only when I allow it.”

Oh God! She slammed her thighs together. Her mind raced ahead, trying to work out where the hell she could get handcuffs at this time in the evening.

Logan’s lips twitched, skimming his hand under the sheet, polishing his fingers over her pussy. She was hot and wet. He wanted her now, but needed to keep her waiting.

Slowly, with an almost clinical precision, he dipped his finger in—first one, the second following, number three shimmying close behind. They slid deep, awakening a path of lust, invading her, massaging the spot that could drive her crazy, brushing the walls of her cervix. Flicking and searching, his thumb lazily circled her clit, pushing down, and his fingers tinkled and teased with a seductive tempo until she couldn’t breathe. His gaze slipped down. Her eyes were closed, her chest rising in rapid breaths. She was going to be such a responsive pupil. Then he stopped.

Sydney fluttered her eyes open, staring up at him in confusion. The all-consuming pulsing she was experiencing was sending her insane. She wanted him. Now. “Logan?” Her voice didn’t sound like her own: low, almost keening.

“That’s to remind you of what’s to come.” His voice dripped with promise, adding with a harsh growl. “And it won’t be off fucking Oliver!”

Oh shit, she’d hit a definite nerve there.

She wished he’d stop his intense search of her. His smoke filled gaze soldered over her, igniting her lava flow. He’d peaked her to the edge, and with or without him she was going over. She’d become a natural at masturbation over the last five years. And not all of it required toys. Scuttling a hand between her legs, she rubbed herself.

Logan caught the movement, and flicked the sheet back. “Come for me, Sydney,” he murmured, feasting on her, the rash of color that rose across her face.

“No, I can’t.” Closing her eyes, she felt his hand on hers. Massaging and circling, leaving it there to sweet talk her clit. She kept her eyes shut, drowning in the heady sensations. They plummeted, flooding over her, a cataclysmic effervescent whirlpool that surged with the speed and devastation of a cyclone.

“Come on, baby.” Logan’s words careened her over the edge, releasing his cock he fisted himself in unison. His hand slid up the entire turgid length with an unhurried ease.

She bucked into an excruciating arc. Her body quivering, she whimpered, groaned aloud, and shuddered with a crash of relief against her hand.

Sydney felt his hand on hers again, smooth yet rough, a mixture of contrasting textures. She refused to open her eyes. Her whole body flushed in a deep shameful cringe, and embarrassment colored her. She couldn’t believe she’d masturbated in front of him. Oh Christ almighty, what was he doing to her?

“Open your eyes and look at me.” The tone of his voice commanding,

she couldn’t deny him.

Beautiful grey eyes smouldered into hers. His fingers dipped low, moving in an indefinable lazy stroke between her sensitive folds. Raising them, he licked each digit, sucking on them, little by little, one by delicious one, and her stomach flipped over.

“I like the taste of you honey,” he whispered.

Oh, fucking hell.

Buy Escorting Sydney Here:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Escorting-Sydney-Doms-Drakos-ebook/dp/B00DIF0V30/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top

http://www.amazon.com/Escorting-Sydney-Doms-Drakos-ebook/dp/B00DIF0V30/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1375382135&sr=1-1-fkmr0&keywords=escorting+sydney+Ellen+Marsh

http://www.ravenousromance.com/modern-love/escorting-sydney-the-doms-of-drakos-book-one.php?keyword=Ellen+Marsh

Find Ellen March here:

Web page http://ellenmarch.jimdo.com

Why Rachel Kincaid Writes Challenging Erotica

August 8, 2013Blog, Guest Blogger, New ReleasesBDSM, challenging erotica, erotic fiction, erotica, Just Let Go, new release, Rachel KincaidK D Grace

It’s my pleasure to welcome Rachel Kincaid to A Hopeful Romantic, knowing that anywhere romantic is probably not where you’d normally find Rachel, but I loved her piece, Second Chance, which she read at Smut by the Sea, and knowing that it was uncharactoristic of what she typically writes, I asked her if she would be my guest and talk a bit about why she writes ‘challenging’ erotica. Welcome, Rachel! It’s such a pleasure to have you here!

I met KD Grace at Eroticon 2013 in London when she ran a wonderful session about finessing a sex scene. I then met her again at Smut by the Sea and like all nervous writers we were twittering about what we were going to read and comparing plots. Everyone was surprised when I said that I was going to be reading a lovely little premature ejaculation story. It appeared incongruent. How can you have ‘nice’ and ‘premature ejaculation’ in the same sentence? I also stated that I had written a nice little necrophilia story but that the host had asked me to err on the side of caution. I really struggled with this, I don’t naturally do caution or toned down stuff so ‘Second Chance’ was it.

I have been writing non-fiction stuff for years so when I first forayed into the world of fiction I cast my mind around for things that I wanted to read. Remittance Girl wrote a wonderful piece about a writers first love, our reader, and how initially that is ourselves and that over time it progresses to a style where we have a ‘map’ of what our readers/fans want from our work. My own reading is very varied. I am a huge Terry Pratchett fan because you can re-read all of his books and find new things in them. That is what I love about it and what I aspire to do, to write a book that stands up to being read more than once. It is why Dan Brown and EL James gets such a slating. They write tomes that are discarded because they offer something insubstantial, disposable. I love Agatha Christie and Roald Dahl’s Tales of the Unexpected, I like trying to work out what is going to happen next and who dunnit. Huxley’s Brave New World, Orwells 1984, Margaret Atwood’s Handmaid’s Tale all challenge me and leave tendrils of their plots lingering in my conscience.

So here I am; a well educated, well read (ish) woman writing erotica. Writing any genre well you need to read a lot of it. I have read right across the landscape from soft and gentle romance to porn and through to erotic horror. I found that I instantly forgot the fluff, I don’t recall the plots or the authors (unless they are really bad). I’m not knocking the softer stuff, I have read enough of it, but it does not float my boat and nor is it usually well written. The work that I recall is not necessarily the stuff that I would do with a sexual partner, it might be too extreme, or full of pathos, or heart breaking sadness. Erotica, for me, is about escapism, this may not be into something soft and fluffy, it may be dystopian horror or an excellent flogging BDSM scene. Talking to my fellow writers and readers these are the plots that they remember too. Ask any writer all they want is for their stuff to be read…and remembered, this is why I try to write something ‘different’.

Now being different is dangerous. I run the risk of not being published, that I will turn the reader off and alienate them, of people asking me to tone down so that I ‘fit in’. I don’t fit in and that is what people like, they like edgy and different. Sex Pistols, Iggy Pop, Oasis (before all the terrible cocaine choices they made), Andy Warhole, Marquis De Sade, Margaret Thatcher (subliminal messaging about me putting her next to Sade? Maybe), Lawrence of Arabia, Mary Shelly. All of these people are ‘different’ in their own ways and are loved or remembered because of it not in-spite of it.

In my mind stories should be about escaping into something where we do not normally go. In addition to this if I am writing something about places where people have not gone, I have a responsibility to educate too, to give the correct information; something EL James epically failed at. As did, in my opinion, Pauline Reage in her classic Story of O, the anal training is written by someone who has not experienced it or understands the bio-mechanical elements of what she had written, although she does eloquently explore the emotional state. I care about my reader, I want to take them down the rabbit hole, to show them how far it goes, excite them, turn them on, thrill them, scare them. I often tweet that I am mean to them too because I dump them in the middle of a plot and as soon as they get their bearings I whip the legs out from under them. I can always see where the line is, and I always cross it; life is more fun that way. Nice and nasty? No, not really. I am a firm believer in that people have a lot more intelligence than they give themselves credit for. I do not believe in dumbing down. It is like those well crafted documentaries e. g. Wonders of the Solar System, that get across difficult concepts without alienating anyone. There is no need to over simplify things. Sex is not simple, it never has been and never will be, so why make it so? In all of my writing if I pitch it right, then the very smart ones are not bored, the less intellectually gifted can keep up and then the mainstream are in for a treat too.

Once I started to write, or think about writing, outside the usual boy meets girl, girl is tempted away by the ‘bad’ man but goes back for the ‘good’ boy. Oh shoot me now! Dull as ditchwater. Why can’t she marry the nice boy and have great hot wild sex with the bad man and then possibly have even hotter sex with both of them…at the same time. Now that is much more interesting.

To expand it even further (because you can always go further), sex does not just happen to young and nubile people. Some of the best sex I have had is after my body is covered in stretch marks, with wobbley bottomed cellulite and there was probably a fanny fart thrown in there for good measure. So if this is when I have enjoyed sex the most, why not write for that audience too? I don’t want to stop having wild sex until the day that I die, at about 100 should do, preferably no sooner.

Combining all of this opens up so many opportunities and challenges for me as a writer and communicator. Today I am releasing my first piece of writing with Naughty Night’s Press called Just Let Go. Very exciting. As is my want, it is not a traditional erotic story; no one orgasms, there is not sex in the traditional sense but I guarantee you that it is exciting and sexy and erotic. A challenge to write? Yes. A challenge to read? No, because it will whisk you along and take you somewhere special. After you read it you will remember it (I hope) and it should stand up to being read more than once.

So here I am, a new erotica writer, daring to be different, daring to stand out from the crowd, taking a gamble and being prepared to fail. Want to come with me on this ride?

Just Let Gohttp://naughtynightspress.com/nnpstore2/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=5&products_id=96

How do you get a charismatic and professional dynamo in a high-powered profession to let go a little?
You tie her up and keep her guessing.

Catherine rushes home for a date with her husband and Dom, and what follows is an adventure in sensory deprivation, bondage, and the magic that can happen when both Dom and sub have needs and gifts that fit so well together.

How does Catherine manage to keep it all together? What does it take to get a woman accustomed to command to surrender?

And how far does her Dom go to get her there?

Excerpt from Just Let Go:

“Tonight.“

That was all the text stated. Her mind emptied of all the meetings and reports and detritus of office life that crammed into her head. It was as though someone had jump-started her heart because it leapt out of her throat. Catherine ran her tongue around her dry mouth and over her teeth, making strange semi circles with its tip. She wondered what he would be up to, what he would have planned for her. Rubbing her fingers over her lips, she sat there in contemplation.

Catherine had everything. She was pretty, smart, witty, friendly, with a high-powered job; she had it all. In fact she was very happy with her life, particularly at this moment.

At that instant Tina entered. “Just some more letters for you to sign and I…” She halted mid–sentence and stared boggle–eyed at Catherine before gathering herself; “Oooh, you look like the cat who got the cream. What are you up to?”

Coughing, covering up the moment required to try and pull her thoughts together, Catherine stated bluntly, “Nothing.” It was complete failure trying to maintain any semblance of decorum around Tina.

“I know a smirk when I see one. What are you planning?”

Catherine looked Tina squarely in the eye like her father had taught her during all business meetings. “It was just a text,” she said with all the haughtiness she could muster.

Snorting, Tina exclaimed, “Just a text, my arse! You are on a promise. It looks like sex for you tonight, m’lady.”

Find Rachel Kincaid Here:

Rachel Kincaid blog http://rachelkincaid4.blogspot.co.uk/

About Rachel Kincaid

Rachel Kincaid is a professional woman who thinks and writes about sex a lot. She Is a firm believer that erotica should not just be about the young a nubile, nor should it be dull and uninteresting. Her writing frequently covers taboo topics in new and interesting ways, thishas earned her a cult following across the globe.

Lily Harlem Talks about the C Word & the New Harlem Dae Sexy as Hell Trilogy

August 5, 2013Blog, Guest Blogger, New ReleasesBDSM, erotic fiction, erotica, Harlem Dae, Lily Harlem, Natalie Dae, new release, novel, Sexy as Hell Trilogy, The C Word, The VirginK D Grace

Cunt, now there is a word that can make people gasp, or smile, or their hackles go up. Even seeing it spelled out can make some people tremble. I use it in my novels sparingly – note the word sparingly – because I like the impact it has. But because of its power, it can also be a word that knocks readers from a moment when you really want them to be immersed in the story – but more about that in a minute.

First of all, a quick sweep around the world wide web about the origins of this complex word.. (not a polemic, just a bit of info!)

It seems that etymologists debate the word cunt but the overall belief is that the word derives from the Proto-Germanic word kunton meaning the female genitals. What is known for sure is that by the 13th century cunt was being widely used. The earliest known citation of the word comes from a street in London known as Gropecunte Lane. This name was common in many towns in Britain as the street where prostitutes conducted their business. The street name described the activity that took place, e.g. grope meaning to touch for sexual pleasure and cunte meaning female genitalia. This street existed under its current name in London up until fairly recently when the residents decided to change its name to something a little more PC – I’m just guessing at this new name LOL!

So originally cunt didn’t have the obscene connotations it has today, it was merely a noun for the ladies private parts. But over the years its meaning evolved, by Shakespeare’s day it seems to have become quite obscene and although the great playwright never actually used the word in any of his completed plays, before him, Chaucer did in Canterbury Tales.

However, moving forward a few centuries, the way in which Anais Nin used cunt in her writing is pertinent, titillating and I think beautiful. Erotica is more likely to use cunt with acceptance & grace unlike the rest of society who’ve pushed cunt to the outer rims of the majorities vocabulary. For a long time cunt was an outcast. Only uncouths and drunks used the word that once all enjoyed so merrily, until fairly recently when, luckily for it – society liked to shock.

Now it is the golden age of cunt, everybody uses it from the humblest beggar to politicians in a way they hope will get a gasping reaction at their daring. There is, however, also a long-standing movement among feminists that seeks to reclaim cunt not only as acceptable, but as an honorific, in much the same way that queer has been reappropriated by LGBT people. I for one, hope they succeed.

But despite its resurgence many are still confused on when and in what company it is okay to say the previously unutterable…

Until the feminists are victorious in changing the general population’s opinion of the word, utilising cunt in the modern age is a difficult balancing act. If you underutilize or refuse to say it then you are missing out on one of the most powerful words in the English language. If you overutilise cunt then you run the risk that people will think you’re either a misogynist or a feminist, depending on your gender, and cunt will lose all its punch and forcefulness. (information sourced from Live Leaks, sexloveliberation)

So, back to Anais Nin who paved the way for modern day erotica authors and readers. Since I have a new trilogy out this week – Sexy as Hell co-written with Natalie Dae – that uses the word cunt in several different ways I thought I’d share a few examples of how Natalie and I like to work it into stories.

This is the first snippet, and what I should point out is that cunt is in the very first line of the very first book. Why? Because it shocks, it hooks, it shows us a lot about not just the female lead, Zara, but also the reaction of the man she says it to. Here goes…

Excerpt from The Virgin, book #1 in the Sexy as Hell Trilogy

Chapter One

“Lick my cunt,” I said.

I wondered what Victor saw, standing there fully dressed as he was against my bedroom wall. A woman sprawled out on the bed, naked, her fingers spreading her slit apart, or me, Zara Watson, the girl he’d picked up in a coffee shop after work? Or so he’d like to think. I’d picked him up, but I wasn’t about to let him in on how. It had been easy, making him believe he had the gift of the gab, what it took to successfully snare a woman, but in reality I’d orchestrated every move. I doubted his ego could take the truth.

“What?” he asked, dark eyebrows going up, eyes widening.

So he wasn’t as sophisticated as he’d made out. In my experience, they were all the same. Confident and all-knowing until someone like me threw them. Came out with a simple statement that had them reeling. No idea how to claw back their self-assured air without a pause to take in what had been said. The shock of it was usually too much. Hang on, lady, you’re not meant to be saying things like that to me. It should be the other way around. I ought to be shocking you.

“You heard me,” I said, holding back a smirk. “So?”

He remained where he stood, more was the pity, and smiled, a tactic I’d seen so many times before. I‘d bet his mind was swirling, him trying to think what he could say that would get him back on top. I only wished he would get on top, or at least do something that would live up to the promise of his sexy words in the coffee shop. I sighed. All mouth and no trousers, that one. Shame he still had his trousers on. Black ones that matched his shirt. A grey silk tie that could be taken two ways—he was either a stuffy prig or had no choice but to wear it for his profession. And he’d told me all about that. An architect, don’t you know, well paid and with a flashy car that he’d wasted no time in describing to me. As though a hunk of metal was of interest. The only hunk I was interested in was him, and the way things were going, I wouldn’t be getting my mitts on him as quickly as I’d envisaged. Shame, because he was a great-looking guy and I wouldn’t be surprised if his body matched the aesthetic appeal of his face.

“A bit forward, aren’t you?” he said, rubbing the cute, vertical dink he had in his chin.

“Is that a problem?” I leant back, bracing myself on my hands. My breasts didn’t move. Pert things, they’d brought many a man to his knees. A pity this one wasn’t on them between my legs now, supping the cunt I’d so graciously offered.

“Well…” He frowned, seemingly at a loss on what to say.

“Well what?” I smiled inwardly. Talk about getting to him. I could almost see him trying to hold in a squirm.

“You…you didn’t seem this type when we met.” He lifted one hand, running his fingers through his floppy brown hair. Sprinkles of silver weaved through his sideburns and the wispy, longer hairs at his temple.

“And what type is that?” I was enjoying myself.

Zara goes on to ask him how a naked lady on a bed, asking him to ‘lick her cunt’ can fail to turn him on. It’s clear from his reaction that it’s that one word that’s thrown him, the straw that broke the camel’s back in this scene, and a great place to start his character development.

This next snippet is from book #3 The Vixen, a shorter excerpt because it’s quite plot heavy and I don’t want to throw spoilers around, but I wanted to use it as an example of cunt being a word filled with hate and the power it can have when used that way. Plus it’s such a short, hard word on the tongue, can be almost spat out, that even when reading and not saying it out loud it still reverberates.

*****

I hadn’t had to put the incredulous in my voice, because I could recall my shock when they’d asked me, or rather Conner had told me what I had to do.

Conner. I’d told myself I’d never say his name, never think it, but things had changed. He was the one who’d liked the games the best, the others had just watched with folded arms and amused sneers on their faces.

Cunts.

*****

This is just a tiny section of Zara’s thoughts in that scene, but I still think the depth of her hate is evident on the page from that final word.

Finally, an example of cunt used in a heated moment which leads to lots of loving and caring and written as a thought while in the heroine, Zara’s, point of view.

This is taken from book #2 The Player.

Oh, God, he meant it. The fire in his eyes was plain to see. I’d pushed him way too far. What the hell had he and Ollie been talking about?

He shoved me and I fell onto the bed, the backs of my knees against the edge of the mattress. Still standing he straddled them, loomed above me, staring down with such menace in his eyes I knew I really should give him a snippet of the truth before he exploded in spectacular fashion. His cock tented his jeans—oh, yes, it tented them quite nicely—and I clenched my cunt muscles to stave off the stirrings of desire.

“I don’t know the proper rules,” I said. There, there was some truth. “All I know are mine and the games that I play. I don’t know any other way. Satisfied?”

My chest went up and down as I fought to catch my breath. It seemed as though my admission had taken all the air out of me, had left me weak and boneless, vulnerable—something I’d vowed never to be again.

*****

Fairly subtle in that last one, but I like how it is in the protagonist’s thoughts, again it tells us a detail about her, how she thinks, that she’s comfortable with the word if she has it in her head like that, and also that she uses it in different ways herself.

On a different note, KD and I were recently at a reading in Cardiff with fellow erotica and erotic romance authors Lucy Felthouse and Kay Jaybee and we had a question and answer panel at the end of the readings and the open mic. One of the audience asked us about using the ‘c-word’ in our books. I took the route of it having positive female connotations in history as a noun and that I found it particularly useful when writing. I also put forward that if readers are picking up erotica they’re not too likely to be shocked by a single word. This seemed to be a general opinion of the other authors on the panel, and I know full well, because I’ve read and loved all of their work, that they, too, use cunt in a variety of different ways.

Do share your thoughts, I will do my best to check in and say hi! And again, I’ve just skimmed the surface on this subject, it can be debated at length…

Lily x

Sexy as Hell Trilogy –

The Virgin, The Player and The Vixen

By Harlem Dae

Sexy as Hell is an erotic trilogy that will submerge you into the black heart of a world of bondage and discipline, Dominance and submission, sadism and masochism.

Dare to take this twisting journey with Victor and you’ll learn the ropes with him, experience every carnal sensation and fall into a dark and dangerous love that grips like a fist and binds like a collar.

Get to know Zara, his sultry teacher, and you’ll gasp when she doles out her sinful instructions but then delight in the stunning results she not only demands but achieves. It seems Heaven and Hell are not so far apart when she holds the reins.

Victor has his layers peeled back, but when he does the same to try to get to his Vixen’s core, a revelation appears. Because Zara is a woman whose vast sexual experience is both her strength and her weakness; she can inflict pain and pleasure, make lusty demands and instruct, but she needs so much more, she needs…

Yes, the time has come to for her to admit to her needs and confess to the repairing her soul hungers for. A sea of memories, a lifetime of control requires an acknowledgement that will cut through her barriers, and there’s only one man up for the job—her virgin, her student, her newly trained monster, Victor Partridge.

Please note, in order to enjoy Victor and Zara’s adventures, the trilogy must be read in order.

About the Authors

Lily Harlem and Natalie Dae have been writing together for several years on top of their individual author projects. Their joint name is now Harlem Dae. They enjoy being represented by traditional houses including HarperCollins and Total-E- Bound as well self-publishing their sexy stories on Amazon. Both live in the UK and gain great satisfaction from bouncing characters and their raunchy antics back and forth, growing, nurturing and stoking plot lines until they steam off the page and push boundaries. They consider themselves to be solitary, whacky, spontaneous and desirous for many things including perfection and are frequently caught sending messages back and forth referring to each other as Rodney and Delboy.

Buy Links

Amazon US

The Virgin – http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E251FBW

The Player – http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E251FOO

The Vixen – http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E251KU8

Amazon UK

The Virgin – http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Virgin-Trilogy-Erotic-ebook/dp/B00E251FBW/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1374518725&sr=1-1

The Player – http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Player-Trilogy-Erotic-ebook/dp/B00E251FOO/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1374518725&sr=1-2

The Vixen – http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Vixen-Trilogy-Erotic-ebook/dp/B00E251KU8/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1374518774&sr=1-3

Author Links

Harlem Dae website http://www.harlemdae.com

Harlem Dae on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/NatalieDaeandLilyHarlem