More Travel Erotica today, as promised while I’m in Oregon for the next two weeks. As I’ve mentioned, travel figures prominently in a lot of my romance novels and it has been that way since the beginning with my very first novel – in fact the very first scene in my very first novel, The Initiation of Ms Holly, which opens in a stalled train beneath the English Channel in the Eurostar tunnel. Once again, the thing about travel is that you spend a lot of time being in that space in between, and it’s in that space in between that unexpected things, almost magical things happen. Most of the time you do whatever you have to in order to keep busy and keep from getting bored. But there are times when you get way more from an unexpected encounter in a bad situation than you ever bargained for. Enjoy!
The Initiation of Ms Holly Blurb:
Book One in The Mount trilogy (Click here for: Book Two | Book Three)
Journalist, Rita Holly, never dreamed sex with the mysterious Edward in the dark of a malfunctioning train would lead to a blindfolded, champagne-drenched tango, a spanking by a butch waitress, and an offer of initiation into the exclusive mysteries of The Mount. Desperate to save her threatened job, she agrees, scheming secretly to write an inside exposé on the club that will make her career. But as she delves deeper into the intrigue of The Mount and the lives of its members, she soon discovers that her heart may have other plans.
Chance Encounter in a Stalled Train – The Initiation of Ms Holly Excerpt
He practically fell on top of Rita, his hand grazing her left breast in the complete darkness. She yelped and grabbed him to keep from losing her balance.
‘God, I’m sorry!’ He gasped. ‘Bloody nuisance, this, isn’t it?’ His voice was warm, melodious, by far the most pleasant thing that had happened to Rita since she left Paris. ‘Oh dear. You’re trembling. Are you all right?’
‘I’m claustrophobic’ her words were thin and shaky, as though she didn’t fully trust herself to let them out. ‘It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t know where we are.’ For an embarrassing moment, she realized she was still clinging to him, but the embarrassment passed, and suddenly she didn’t care. If they were going to die trapped in a train in the Eurostar tunnel, buried beneath a gazillion gallons of water, she’d just as soon not do it alone.
He either understood, or was too polite to leave her in such distress. He wrapped his arms around her engulfing her in a muscular embrace, the scent of which was maleness barely masked by deodorant and some spicy cologne, both fading at the end of a day much longer than either of them had anticipated. ‘Don’t worry.’ In the darkness, he misjudged the distance between them and his lips brushed her earlobe. ‘It’s just an electrical malfunction. Anyway we’re better off down here than in the snowstorm up above. Sounds like all of London is shut down. Who’d have expected snow this late in the spring? Never mind that, where else do you get the chance to cuddle strangers in the dark?’
He pressed a little closer to her, and she was relieved to find other thoughts, thoughts more welcome than those of their predicament, pushing their way into her head. He felt good, broad-shouldered and tall, easy to lean on.
‘Why are you huddled here in the corner rather than hunkered down in your seat?’
She concentrated on his warm breath pressing against the top of her ear. ‘I was on my way back from the loo when the lights went out and…’
‘And this is as far as you got.’
She nodded against his chest, homing in on the reassuring sound of his heartbeat.
‘Shall I help you back to your seat then?’
The train lurched forward, and she yelped again, tightening her grip around his neck. ‘No, please. It’s better if I just don’t move.’
There was a long pause. ‘Do you want me to stay with you?’
She realized the poor man had little choice clenched in her strangle hold, as he was. ‘I don’t want to be any trouble,’ she lied.
He readjusted his stance and tightened his embrace. ‘No trouble at all. I can’t think of a better way to pass the time than in the arms of a beautiful woman. You are beautiful, aren’t you?’
In spite of the stress she felt, she forced a laugh. ‘Gorgeous, actually. Too bad you can’t see for yourself.’
He ran a hand down the contour of her spine to rest low on the small of her back. ‘I don’t have to see you to admire you.’
The thought that the man was rather cheeky barely crossed her mind before he lifted her fingers to his lips and planted a warm kiss across the back of her knuckles. ‘I’m Edward. I’m from London. Clearly you’re not.’
‘Rita,’ she replied. ‘I’m from Seattle, but I live in London now.’
‘Well Rita, from Seattle, we’ve established that you’re an exotic beauty. Perhaps you’d like to return the favour.’ He lifted her hand to his face and guided it gently over the slight stubble of his cheek. As her hand cupped his well-formed chin, he pulled her middle finger into his mouth and nibbled it, teasing the pad of it with his tongue. Suddenly her struggle to breathe had nothing to do with being claustrophobic.
‘Well?’ He asked pulling her hand away to massage her fingers. ‘What do you think? Am I acceptable?’
If he was cheeky, she was downright brazen. She stopped his words with her mouth, amazed at how easily she had found the mark in total darkness. Perhaps it was the darkness that made her so bold, but whatever it was, he didn’t disappoint. His mouth was warm, opening eagerly to the probing of her tongue, responding in kind, caressing her hard pallet, nipping at the fullness of her lower lip before pulling away just enough to speak.
‘There, you see? It’s not so bad being in the dark, is it? The other senses are too often overlooked, which is very sad, since they offer such exquisite delights.’ His hand moved up to cup her cheek, and he raked a thumb across her still parted lips. ‘Taste, for example. Few pleasures exceed that of the tongue.’
She heard him fumbling in the darkness, then she heard the rattling of foil. ‘Open your mouth,’ he whispered. ‘I have something that’ll make you feel better, guaranteed. Oh don’t worry, it’s nothing illegal.’
Reluctantly she opened her mouth, which he primed with a wet kiss, then slipped a chocolate truffle between her
lips. It was covered liberally in cocoa and warmed exquisitely almost, but not quite to the steamy melting point of his body temperature, which only enhanced the sharp, edgy flavor that separates expensive chocolate from the cheap stuff.
She gasped her surprise, then moaned softly at the intensity of the taste.
‘Don’t bite,’ he kissed her jaw, then her throat. ‘Savour it, roll it around in your mouth. There are places on the
tongue that taste only sweet and places that taste only bitter or salt, or sour. Chocolate can have all those flavors. Caress 
it in your mouth like you’re making love to it, and you’ll be amazed at what you taste.’
She cheeked the truffle, slurring her words as she spoke. ‘I thought I was tasting you.’
He chuckled softly. ‘Everything tastes better with chocolate.’ Without another word, he took her mouth, plunging his tongue deep against the melting truffle, whirling it, lapping at it, sighing with the pleasure of it. The more liquid and heated the truffle became, the more liquid and heated Rita became.
Buy The Initiation of Ms Holly Here:
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Reviews
“Skillfully written to provide a provocative blend of kinky sex with subtle mystery. Simply put, this book is a page-turner for the erotic reader.” The Romance Reviews
*****
“The Initiation of Ms. Holly is so hot I am still tingling a day after I finished reading this novel. This spicy number will heat you up and keep you fully charged for days to come.” – Coffee Time Romance
*****
“This story had an exciting plot with some twists and turns, a cast of very colorful characters, some angst, a plethora of amazing and erotic sex and lastly a beautiful love story. Rita and Edward went through all kinds of kinky hell to get where they wanted to be….and I loved being on this journey with them! A great first read for me by K.D. Grace. Can not wait to get my hands on the next book in The Mount series, Fulfilling the Contract.” Violet Blue
I’m travelling for the next two weeks, so I’ve decided it’s time to give you lot a tasty sampling of travel writing. When I started thinking about it, I realized that travel figures prominently in a lot of my romance novels and in none more so than in 
arrived at Heathrow, but not at departures. When the handler helped her out of her pet carrier, it was a smartly dressed male flight attendant who took her bag, and offered her his arm, leaving the handler looking on from the van. On board the attendant addressed her. ‘You are to relax and enjoy the flight, Ms James. I’ve been instructed that you have very bad laryngitis and can’t speak, so please feel free to write down any instructions you may have for me. I’ve left a pen and pad of paper in the seat pocket for you. Now buckle in. We’ll be underway in a few minute.’
raked at her nipple with a rough thumb.
hand curved against her pubis, middle finger stretched between her folds.
“Full of decadent desire, sensual eroticism and hedonistic promises, Ms. Grace uses a wicked pen that enticed this reader into a world of pleasure unlike anything I have read before. The interaction between Stella and Tino is so scorching hot I practically left burn marks on the computer screen. To top it off, there are so many other erotic fantasies intertwined in this tale that this book must have hit upon everyone’s favorite desire. Whether it is male/male, male/female, male/female/male, female/male/female/female or BDSM this novel has it all. The Pet Shop is the cat’s meow!” 5 out of 5, 
The women arrived swiftly, both aware of the importance of not keeping Mark waiting. Standing on the opposite side of the highly polished dining room table, his employees braced themselves for the coming instructions. 
Truer words were never spoken. I call it the Spiral, and it mostly happens at night, mostly. I’ve written before about the neuroses of being a writer, and more specifically about my own neuroses. I can write about it and snigger in the daylight because it all seems so silly and insignificant, but in the middle of night, in the wee hours, the monsters really do come out. I mean those personal monsters all of us who write as our vocation face. Some of them might be different, though I would guess De Niro probably hit on the generic list that most of us could give a nod of agreement to.
exaggerate even what my fertile imagination could come up with to worry and angst about and to view as what would be my bitter end. I don’t know that it helped, but it did remind me that this too shall pass, and that the monsters in the darkest hours seldom hang around in the daylight. In the daylight I feel empowered and able to fight back, to take control. In the daylight, I can see the differences between honest failures and short comings and a life that has no meaning. And even more importantly, the rawness I wake up with is a reminder that now is what I have and it’s good and it’s sweet, but it’s not always easy, and it’s not always a gentle way forward. Still it is a way forward. And even from that dark place, when daylight comes, I can take those dark places in myself, those places of despair and fear and translate them into story, into places of power. Though I seldom remember that when I’m in the dark. What I do remember, what helps me move beyond it is the knowing with certainty that no matter how lonely it feels when I’m in it, I’m not alone.