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In The Flesh Part 26: Dark Paranormal Romance in Progress. Enjoy!

In the Flesh 11880534_1463650103936599_545702979581425574_n

 

 

Not only is it Friday, but it’s Friday the 13th and time for Episode 26 of In The Flesh, in which Susan has tea with a vampire, while Magda and Michael plan.

 

In the Flesh  is very dark paranormal erotica. When Susan Innes comes to visit her friend, Annie Rivers, in Chapel House, the deconsecrated church that Annie is renovating into a home, she discovers her outgoing friend changed, reclusive, secretive, and completely enthralled by a mysterious lover, whose presence is always felt, but never seen, a lover whom she claims is god. As her holiday turns into a nightmare, Susan must come to grips with the fact that her friend’s lover is neither imaginary nor is he human, and even worse, he’s turned his wandering eye on Susan, and he won’t be denied his prize. If Susan is to fight an inhuman stalker intent on having her as his own, she’ll need a little inhuman help.

 

 

 

 

To read the story in its entirety up to this point, follow these links to  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4 Part 5Part 6Part 7Part 8Part 9Part 10Part 11Part 12Part 13Part 14Part 15Part 16, Part 17Part 18Part 19Part 20Part 21Part 22Part 23Part 24, Part 25.

 

 

In the Flesh Chapter 26

“Annie, no! Annie don’t do it! Annie, please! Annie!” I screamed her name to be heard above the howl of
the wind. The fine hairs on the back of my neck prickled with terror that Michael’s invaded body would reach out and grab me and pull me back, or worse yet, race ahead of me and take the decision completely out of Annie’s fragile hands. It was only a few steps to get to her. I should have been able to reach her in three quick strides, but it might as well have been a million miles. I swear, the distance between us stretched and elongated to an impossible space. It was Him. He was doing it! I knew He was. Even as it was happening, I knew it wasn’t real, but no matter how hard I struggled to reach her, it was like being caught in a nightmare, one of those in which the harder you run, the slower you move and the farther you have to go. It was as though everything had switched into slow motion, my begging and screaming being blown back in my face, a mindless cacophony of desperate sound. And the agonizing moment she stood in the wind teetering on the edge of the battlement stretched and elongated with my tortured efforts to reach her. And then for the briefest of seconds, the wind died down, just a tiny bit, and she turned and looked at me and in her eyes, for a tiny moment, I saw my friend still there, still inside the ravaged body. I saw recognition in her eyes. “Annie! Dear god, Annie, hang on!”

But then the wind rose again and swirled around us like an evil thing intent on tormenting us, which was dark moon image_xl_6338206a very real possibility. “Susan?” I heard nothing, but saw her lips mouth my name as she reached out her hand toward me, and it was the very effort to save herself, that off-balanced her.” She screamed and teetered on the edge. We both screamed and I dived toward her with both arms flung outward, reaching, stretching as far as I could and beyond, her fingertips just brushing mine, with me raging into the wind, “no! You bring her back! She’s not yours! You fucking bring her back!” But I wasn’t fast enough. How could I not have been fast enough?” For a thousand years, no! For a million years I watched her topple slowly, endlessly off the battlement as though that instant, that instant of my own helplessness, of my own horrible guilt, that instant lived and breathed in a suspension of eternity, all of which I had to dwell on what might have been if I were only just an instant, just a fraction of an instant faster.

Then suddenly, the breath was knocked out of my lungs by a force like a freight train that hit me from behind, and I was pushed back hard toward the open door as a blur flew past me and disappeared over the battlement. I tumbled backward and hit my head against the stones hard enough to rattle my teeth and jar my brain. For a second I lay stunned, pinpoints of light flashing behind my eyes, hearing nothing but a loud ringing in my ears, and then I heard people scrambling up the stairs. Magda was at my side one minute, then at the battlement the next, Reese moved with her. At first I could make no sense of what was happening, and then a large hand reached over the stones and caught hold of Reese’s wrist and suddenly both Reese and Magda were pulling and straining and leaning so far over the battlement that I feared they’d go over too. Still half-stunned, I looked around for Michael, who was nowhere to be found. It was Talia, who offered me a hand and helped me to my feet, but her attention was on what was happening at the battlement. “Did you get her?” she called into the wind.

psyche_et_lamour_327x567And then Reese, grunting and straining, reaching so far over the battlement that my heart stopped. Then it started again, it started to race like a wild thing the instant I realized it was Michael who he heaved up onto the battlement Michael holding on for dear life with one arm while, with the other he handed the sobbing, trembling Annie into Reese’s care. “Take her, and get her out of her,” Michael’s voice carried on the wind. “I’m not safe.”

Reese hefted my friend into his arms and gave me a reassuring smile before he hurried toward the open door as Michael collapsed on the wet stone, drenched and shaking and gasping for air.

“Jesus, Michael what did you do?” I said, rushing to his side. “When I didn’t see you. I thought you’d jumped too.”

Before I could throw my arms around him, he stopped me with a raised palm. “I should have. I would have if it hadn’t been for Annie. Stay back. I told you, I’m not safe.” Then he turned to Magda. “Get her away from me. Now.”

“Michael, what are you doing? We’ll figure this out. It’ll be okay. He’s not in you now. I can feel He’s not,” I tried to fight Magda, but her grip on my arms was like iron as she turned me toward the door. “Michael,” I called over my shoulder, straining against her hold, “Don’t push me away. Michael, I can help.”

He pulled himself to his feet with an effort that looked as though it hurt him and, for a moment rose imagesthat was all too brief his gaze locked on me. “I’m sorry, Susan. I’m so, so sorry.” Then he turned his back and hunched against the battlement, shoulders rising and falling as though each breath were a desperate effort.

“What’s he going to do? What the hell is he going to do?” I fought for all I was worth, but Talia flanked me on the other side and the two women maneuvered me to the stairs. “It’ll be all right,” Talia said, but there was very little conviction in her voice. Inside she slammed the stair door behind us effectively shutting Michael on the roof. Alonso was waiting just beyond the daylight. He took me in his arms and bodily carried me, kicking and screaming down the stairs as Magda turned back to the battlement.

At the bottom of the stairs, Alonso pushed me up against the wall, pressing one forearm across my shoulders just above my breasts so I couldn’t move. With the other he took my chin in his hands and forced me to meet his gaze. “Susan, he’s not going to jump. Magda would never let him do that, and it’s hardly his way. Calm down.” The sheer force of him, prickled over my skin like electricity, and I relaxed. When he was sure I was calm enough to hear what he had to say, he smoothed the rain soaked hair out of my face and spoke. “Michael’s right. He’s not safe, as you just saw, as we all just saw, it isn’t safe for you to be with him right now, not until Magda figures out what to do.” He gave the succubus a nod and she disappeared down the hall. “Talia will bring you some dry clothes, and then she’ll stay with you until Magda can sort things out.”

“I’m not any safer than he is,” I said, fighting back a sob.

He wiped an escaped tear with the tip of a cool thumb. “Then I shall stay with you. Not that I’m exactly safe either, but I’m probably your best bet at the moment.”

Once I had changed into a dry, if rather oversized, track suit, Talia informed me that Annie was safely back in her bed, this time with stronger magic to protect her. Though I had little confidence in any form of magic after all that had happened, I still held he stone heart that Magda had made for me in a suicide grip every second that I was alone. Alonso dismissed the succubus and led me back to his study. There, he pointed me to a roll-top desk in one corner where my Mac sat. “My good sister was a writer, and a fine one, indeed.” He chuckled softly, “Of course that was long before the days of computers, but I know a writer’s mind. I know that sometimes the only way to make sense out of the chaos is to write it down, and if you are a Scribe, as Magda says, then it’s even more true for you.”

“Thank you,” I managed, as he pulled out the chair for me and settled me at the desk.

“Not at all, my darling girl. We all work out our demons in different ways.”

Right on time, Cook delivered tea and homemade shortbread.

“Allow me,” Alonso said, pouring the tea into a porcelain cup from a matching tea service that I 2015-09-04 16.16.05 HDRsuspected would have brought a fortune on Antique Road Show. As he did so, he inhaling deeply. “Though I can no longer enjoy a good cup of freshly brewed tea myself, I may still take pleasure in the scent, in the warmth and in the sharing of the experience with those who can enjoy.” He offered me a steaming cup.

I sipped and felt the heat curl down deep in my belly, where everything had turned to ice from the incident on the battlement. “What about your demons, Alonso?” I asked, as he settled onto the sofa with a battered copy of Marcus Aralias’s Meditations. “I’m sorry, I know it’s none of my business. I guess I just needed to know that I’m not the only one doing battle, though clearly you haven’t failed so miserably in you efforts as I have.”

“Oh I’ve done more than my share of failing miserably, darling girl.” He laid down the book and stroked his chin. “In the old days, anything that stood between me and what I wanted, I simply drank its blood, then killed it.” He offered a little chuckle when I shuddered. “That obviously didn’t work too well in the end, and I had to find a way to live with who I am, what I’ve done, and what I must do to survive. Talia has been a friend and companion to me for a very long time, and her help in sorting my dreams, in offering me solace has been invaluable. Of course now Reese is the delight of my heart, and wise far beyond his years. But in truth,” he shifted on the sofa and held me in a dark gaze, “it was Magda Gardener who saved me from my worst demon, and that was none other than me and my own self loathing.”

“But not without a price,” I said, tasting bitterness at the back of my throat.

He shrugged. “Everything has a price, my darling girl. It’s up to each of us to decide if it’s a price worth paying and, in my case, it’s not a price that I have ever regretted.” His chuckle was almost a purr. “Of course the woman can be a bloody nuisance at times, but I can overlook that. If she needs me, I’ll be there, and she knows it and she’s quick to return the favor.”

We sat in silence for a moment, both lost in our thoughts, me wondering how it was that, though everyone feared Magda Gardener and no one was ever particularly happy when she showed up on their doorstep, everyone always willing did for her whatever she asked of them, and they seemed to do it out of respect for her rather than fear. “May I ask you a question?” My voice sounded overly loud in the quiet room.Bernini Hades and Persephone close uptumblr_lg4h59T3z31qe2nvuo1_500

“Of course.”

“Magda says it’s because you’re a vampire that the Guardian can’t get to you?”

He nodded. “He must feed on the living just as I must, so I am of no use to him.”

“And what about Reese, why haven’t you turned him into a vampire? Aren’t you afraid the Guardian might take him?”

“Oh I’ll bring Reese over if he wishes it one day. But only if I’m certain that he wishes it. There’s no undoing the deed once it’s done, and the price is a very high one, indeed, never to see the light of day, never to taste the pleasure of a good cup of tea, always to feel the insatiable hunger for blood. Always to live in fear that you might be found out, and worst of all the fear that you might hurt or even destroy the ones you love. It isn’t a decision to be taken lightly, and Reese knows this well. But you see, Reese sups regularly from my heart’s blood, and he is the lover of a vampire, my familiar. He is … polluted, if you will. Oh the Guardian could still take him, but only as a last resort.”

“And Talia? She drinks from you.”

“She’s also less vulnerable because she’s under my protection. Everyone who works in my household is … I suppose you could say … tainted by my blood. The Guardian would find that very distasteful, and of no interest as long as he has his mind set on you. Nonetheless Magda is wise to do all she can to protect what’s mine. You see, what’s mine is also hers.”St Martha's Hill 3

“So in a way you’re her familiar.”

At this, he laughed out loud, “I suppose you could say that. Though I’ve never quite though of it that way, and I’m sure she would no more approve of that parallel than would your angel.

The mention of Michael made my throat tight and the room blurred as my eyes misted. “Michael! Dear god, what he’s been through.” I laid my hand against his mark, which still stung as though I had abraded the skin somehow. “How can this be happening to him again?”

Alonso was instantly at my side offering a pristine handkerchief from his pocket. “I don’t know, my darling girl, but I do know that Magda defeated the Guardian before and brought Michael safely away from him.”

“And I released the bastard to torture him again.”

Alonso knelt in front of me and lifted my chin so I was forced to look into his bright eyes, which instantly made the world seem slightly askew before it righted itself again. “Do not you think for one moment that this is your fault. You were deceived. You were deceived!” He took my face in his hand so I couldn’t look away. “You know your heart, Susan. You must trust what you know. You’re a Scribe, for God sake! You know your own soul better than any mortal can, and I’ve been around long enough to be a very good judge of character. It’s in the nature of the Guardian to deceive. It’s what he does, and it’s in the nature of a Scribe to reveal the hidden and release it into the world, to unlock secrets. He knew that as you never could, and he took advantage. The laying of blame is always easier than facing the truth, my darling girl, and there are times when one needs an unbiased eye to lay the blame where it properly belongs. I shall be that for you, Susan Innes, if you’ll allow me the honor. I shall tell you without bias that you are not to blame for the release of the Guardian into the world. The blame for all that he’s done, all that he has ever done lays squarely at his miserable feet, and no one else’s. You must believe me in this if you or any of those you love, are to survive, and if there is to be any chance of returning this monster to his prison.”

Before I could respond, the door to the study swung open and Talia came in followed by Reese,In The Flesh 2 12006311_1476805985954344_6570546160088833292_n

and not far behind him Magda. Michael brought up the rear.

“Michael! Thank God! Are you all right?” When I tried to go to him, he glanced at Alonso and shook his
head. Alonso nodded his understanding and gently but firmly settled me back at the desk.

For a second Michael stood as though he wasn’t certain what to do next. Whatever it was that crossed his face in the split second before he regained control of his emotions both terrified me and broke my heart. Feeling me tense, the vampire’s grip tightened gently around my wrist. For a second longer, Michaels stood at the door. Then he squared his shoulders took a deep breath and pulled it shut behind him moving to take a chair on the far side of the room carefully avoiding my gaze.

“We need to talk,” Magda settled in the big wing backed chair near the fireplace. “Clearly the Guardian has forced our hand, and it’s time to end this before more damage can be done.”

Out Now! Christmas at the Castle by Jenny Kane (@jennykaneauthor) #contemporary #romance #christmas #ku #kindleunlimited

Christmas at the CastleBlurb

Christmas at the Castle is a seasonal treat from Jenny Kane, featuring much-loved characters from her bestselling novel Another Cup of Coffee.

When hotshot businesswoman Alice Warren is asked to organise a literary festival at beautiful Crathes Castle in Scotland, her ‘work mode’ persona means she can’t say no – even though the person asking is her ex, Cameron Hunter.

Alice broke Cameron’s heart and feels she owes him one – but her best friend Charlie isn’t going to like it. Charlie – aka famous author Erin Spence – is happy to help Alice with the festival…until she finds out that Cameron’s involved! Charlie suffered a bad case of unrequited love for Cameron, and she can’t bear the thought of seeing him again.

Caught between her own insecurities and loyalty to her friend, Charlie gets fellow author Kit Lambert to take her place. Agreeing to leave her London comfort zone – and her favourite corner in Pickwicks Café – Kit steps in. She quickly finds herself not just helping out, but hosting a major literary event, while also trying to play fairy godmother – a task which quickly gets very complicated indeed…

Available to buy from Amazon, and to read as part of the Kindle Unlimited Programme: http://mybook.to/christmasatthecastle

 

Extract

Charlie pushed open the door of The Deeside Bookshop.

Instead of being greeted by John, she was surprised to see a much younger man behind the counter. Having never known the shop without John in it, Charlie was immediately concerned. ‘Um, hello, I wondered if I could speak to John, is he OK?’

‘He’s very OK, thank you. Soaking up the sun in New Zealand in fact.’

‘Oh.’ Not sure what to do, Charlie decided she’d dive straight in anyway. If John trusted this man to run the shop in his absence, then he must be alright. ‘Could I have a quick chat about the literary festival at Crathes? I know Ms Warren has already approached the shop, but I…’

The man, who Charlie guessed must be in his late thirties, ran an exasperated hand through his short hair. ‘I already told your colleague I can’t help. What Ms Warren is asking of me is not cost-effective. Although I wish you luck with the festival, the tactic of sending her prettier colleague to get me to change my mind is not going to work!’

Prettier colleague? Charlie felt thrown. No one ever thought she was prettier than Alice.

‘I assure you no… tactics are in play. I’m only helping out today because I’m a friend of one of the other organisers, and I have a more sensible and, I think, more realistic proposition for you than Alice did. I will tell you about it if you would like to hear it; if not, I’ll leave you in peace to stare around your customer-free shop!’

Rather taken aback by the edge to her tone, the tension in Charlie’s shoulders unknotted a little as, to her amazement, the man began to laugh.

Placing the books he’d been holding on the counter he said, ‘I’m sorry, forgive me for being abrupt. My name is Gervase Potter; I bought John out a few weeks ago. This little empire is now mine.’

Tilting his head to one side, giving Charlie the impression he was enjoying the view, he added, ‘I would very much like to hear your proposal. How about we discuss it tonight over a drink at Scott Skinner’s? I haven’t made it there yet, and I hear it’s a nice pub.’

With her brain privately grappling with the concept of being asked out for a drink by a handsome man who liked books, Charlie replied, ‘It is nice. I often go to Skinner’s to write when I need a change of scene from my desk at home. Oh, I’m Charlie, by the way. Charlie Davies.’

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Charlie. So, you write?’

‘Yes.’ Charlie pointed to the bookshelves, ‘I’m over there somewhere.’

‘You are? Who are you, then? I mean, who else are you?’

‘Erin Spence.’

The Unbrave Heart Erin Spence?’

Charlie’s pulse started to beat faster. He didn’t immediately connect me with The Love-Blind Boy. ‘Yes. Yes that was my first novel.’

‘I love that book.’

‘You’ve read it?’ Charlie was shocked. ‘Forgive me, but you don’t look like you’d be into women’s fiction.’

‘I’m not as a rule, but my ex-girlfriend had the audiobook and we played it on a long journey once or twice. I enjoyed it. You have a very perceptive view of the male side of things.’

‘Really?’ Charlie could feel herself blushing, ‘Thanks. It’s kind of you to say so.’

‘Not at all. That drink tonight, then? Eight o’clock? With a meal as well, maybe?’

‘To talk about my idea for the festival?’

‘I’m making no promises, because I think I’d rather talk about you.’

Charlie’s head buzzed with contradictory thoughts. Had she been right to agree to go out with Gervase? Only this morning she’d been thinking about how she felt about Cameron being back, and now she was going on a date with someone else. A part of her knew she’d only said yes in the hope that Alice and Cameron might see them. But so what if they did? Cameron isn’t going to be jealous, and I don’t want him any more anyway. And Alice wouldn’t notice in her current mode if I walked around naked with a pineapple on my head.

A new thought entered Charlie’s head. Was there any point in going out with another man until Alice had gone home? Gervase would only have to see them standing next to each other, and it wouldn’t be her that he wanted to take for dinner anymore.

Suddenly, Charlie stopped moving. She knew she was being ridiculous, but somehow the thought of how Alice was always going to be there to eclipse her wouldn’t shift…

 

Bio

Jenny Kane is the author the contemporary romance Christmas at the Castle (Accent Press, 2015), the bestselling novel Abi’s House (Accent Press, 2015), the modern/medieval time slip novel Romancing Robin Hood (Accent Press, 2014), the bestselling novel Another Cup of Coffee (Accent Press, 2013), and its novella length sequels Another Cup of Christmas (Accent Press, 2013), and Christmas in the Cotswolds (Accent, 2014).

Jenny’s fourth full length romance novel, Another Glass of Champagne, will be published in 2016.

Jenny is also the author of quirky children’s picture books There’s a Cow in the Flat (Hushpuppy, 2014) and Ben’s Biscuit Tin (Coming soon from Hushpuppy)

Keep your eye on Jenny’s blog at www.jennykane.co.uk for more details.

Twitter- @JennyKaneAuthor

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/JennyKaneRomance

Jenny also writes erotica as Kay Jaybee.

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Out Now! – Far from Blind (Club Blind 2) by S.J. Maylee

farfromblind 300x450Contemporary Erotic Romance

Released October 15th!

Book Description:

Candy Wilson has worked hard to build a life for herself from nothing to something she can be proud of but she can’t catch the eye of the one man who drives her wild with desire.

Brad Chambers has everything, always has, except the woman he loves. When a pitch black blind date at the exclusive Club Blind matches the pair together, Candy refuses to believe what she sees and throws up her protective barrier. It’s up to Brad to tear down her walls and get her to see the man who wants only her.

Be Warned: spanking and light BDSM

Where you can find Far from Blind

Amazon | Evernight | All Romance Ebooks | BookStrand

 FFB Teaser - don't make me

The first review is in!

5-stars from Liz’s Reading Life

“This story is another sizzling creation from SJ Maylee.”

 

Far from Blind Excerpt:

He closed the door behind them and the distinct click of a lock tumbling over echoed around the room. Maybe no showing yesterday was a mistake. If they’d had any chance at all, she’d blown it for sure. How could she expect him to trust her now? The air, thick with unsaid words, closed in around her.

It was time to take care of business and escape before she embarrassed herself. “This must be for you.” She held out the envelope.

“Thank you.” He took it from her and tore it open, revealing a piece of paper. His cheeks pulled into a little smile, then it disappeared. He maneuvered around his desk and sat. “Do you like me, Candy?”

“Of course I do.” She clasped her arms around her middle. The bigger question is what he thought of her before Club Blind and now.

“Then why didn’t you show last night?” He pressed his lips together and kept his gaze on her.

“To be honest…”

“That’s all I’ll ever expect from you.”

“I’ll give it to you straight. You don’t want a girl like me.” She blew out a breath as if it could help her raging pulse. Never in a million years would she have guessed she’d want a man to tell her she was wrong.

“Is that what you believe?”

“Yes.” She kept her focus on him. He gave nothing away. His expression didn’t change, only his fingers tapped on his desk which was irritatingly neat.

“Then we have a problem.” He stood. “We’d agreed to meet. I kept up my end.”

“And I didn’t.” She blew out a deep breath.

“Come here.”

She didn’t move. She didn’t take her next breath either.

He pointed to the ground in front of him. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

She jumped and then slipped around his desk. Damn, he really did smell good. No matter whether it was aftershave or him, the deep woodsy scent turned here on. Everything about Brad turned her on.

“Did I ask you to join me at Mistress Charlie’s yesterday?”

“Yes, but—”

“Do you believe I’m a liar?”

“No.”

“I don’t think you are either.” He tapped under her chin, lifting her focus back to him. “But I don’t believe you’re being honest with me right now and that’s a problem.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t show yesterday.”

“I appreciate the admission, but I can’t let the action and the attitude go unpunished.”

“What, are you going to spank me?” She chuckled.

“I think it’s time.” He tucked some of her hair behind her ear and his touch lingered along the side of her neck over her ugly mole. “Don’t you agree?”

“Agreed, Sir.” She leaned back on his desk. It was the only thing holding her up.

“Safeword?”

“Red.”

“Very good. Bend over my desk, please.”

“Right here?” She looked around his office. She didn’t find any windows to the hall, but his windows facing the next building were wide open. “You really are pissed.”

The corner of his lips lifted slightly. “The windows are treated. No one can see in here.”

“Oh.”

“You’re stalling.”

“Can you blame me?”

“You do know I’m an accountant, right?” He tugged on her hair. “We like to add.”

FFB Teaser - you don't want

Praise for the first book in the Club Blind Series

In the Blind

The Romance Reviews “There is a good mix of heat woven into the storyline, perfect for an erotic romance. With the thrill and excitement of the sex club, the author has created the beginning of an interesting series.”

Night Owl Reviews “The beginning of the story leaves you wanting to know more. It has a unique premise. By the end of the first chapter, I was eager to finish the book…the author takes the reader on a wonderful journey”

Cocktails and Books “There was humor, some angst, romance, and of course, I already mentioned the incredible sex. You’ll be quite satisfied by the end.  I know I sure was.”

 

SJ Button 2 180x180S.J. MAYLEE BIO

S.J. Maylee fell in love with storytelling at a young age and with it came a deep-seated desire for everyone to find their happily ever after. She’s finding the happy endings for her characters one steamy story at a time.

When she’s not reading or writing, you can find her caring for her garden, laughing with her two young sons, or dancing to her husband’s music. She’s a PMP (Project Management Professional), Nia instructor, and coffee addict.

As a writer she has a tendency to break hearts, but she always glues them back together.

Blog | Twitter | Facebook Page | Google+ | Pinterest | Goodreads | New Release Newsletter

WHERE YOU CAN FIND BOOKS BY S.J. MAYLEE:

Evernight Publishing | Amazon US   CA   UK| Barnes & Noble | Nook UK

All Romance eBooks | BookStrand | Smashwords | iTunes

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Reflections from Face Book Prison

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The Face Book Police

 

jail cell

 

 

I’m doing my time in Face Book prison at the moment, carving my name on the unassailable walls with a
rusty ink pen nib next to the names of all those who have gone before me. I was incarcerated without a fair trial and, though I’ve made some pretty good guesses as to why I’m blocked from many of my groups, I can get no actual response from Face Book. I’m told that the usual sentence is two weeks, so I’m halfway through.

It’s strange, this Face Book Prison. I can comment and share pics and updates on my own page with no problems, but with all of the groups to which I belong, I can only see the posts and press my nose to the window longingly while I offer up only a feeble little ‘Like.’

I suppose it’s a writer thing, working in isolation as we do, but the pull of social media is a powerful one. That’s not too surprising since it’s a way of building and having community that we otherwise wouldn’t get. Plus, best of all, it’s words! We writers can all interact with each other in short little status updates and tweets and have meaningful conversations and share witty banter while safely and comfortably seated at home in our jammies. It’s introvert paradise. It allows us to talk about writing and books with lots of other introverted writers for hours on end. We writers are notorious for considering every word we put on the page precious. Yes we may have to ‘cut’ those precious words in the final draft, BUT we never throw them away! We just cannibalise them for the next work or the one after that. And yet, thousands of words are lost to us every single day, set adrift in status updates and tweets to end up somewhere out there in the cold outer reaches of cyberspace.

Words treated carelessly – that’s one of the side effects of social media, I think. Words are way more Book stacksthrowaway now than they’ve ever been in a history that’s treated words pretty precious because they tell stories, they tell our story! Now stories are nipped and snipped to status updates and 140 character tweets. Oh, the story is still there. It just has to be unpacked and teased out, and tomorrow it’ll be lost and forgotten.

What does that have to do with Face Book Prison? Well as much as anything it means I’ve been forced back into a world where words are creatures of leisure, words are a little bit more precious and treated with a little bit more respect. I’ve been forced back into a world where words line up to in long serpentine queues to tell their story and they take their own sweet time to do it. Anticip-a-a-ation. They’re making me wait, and the wait is bloody well worth it!

The thing is, as much as I enjoy the interaction, and I truly do, I have to admit that I’m really enjoying the enforced time with my own thoughts, time to allow my own enormous collection of words to come out and play. And strangely enough, in the midst of all those wild frolicking words, I’ve taken incredible pleasure in the silence. I had no idea that Face Book was such a loud place, but then it makes sense that
social media, by the very act of being social is psychologically loud. I had nearly forgotten that in the Writing pen and birds 1_xl_20156020midst of all my words there could be such delicious silence.

I miss my friends in the groups. Efforts have been made to send files hidden in cakes, but the Face Book
police are far to savvy for that. Though I do appreciate the efforts. I just want to tell everyone on the outside that it’s not so bad to be temporarily banned for crimes I would have enjoyed a helluva lot more if I’d only know what they were. I miss the connection, but in its absence, I’ve been reminded of other connections, creative connections that don’t come in status updates and tweets and, while I’ll be glad to be welcomed back into the fold, I don’t want to forget the frolic and gambol of words and the way they come in their own time in their own way, and I don’t want to forget the exquisite silence in between that connects them all so seamlessly and gives me a place to rest a bit and regroup.

Out Now – Coming Attractions by Rosie Vanyon (@RVanyon) #romance #erotica #mf

Coming AttractionsBlurb

During a freak summer storm, screenwriter and heiress, Cara Kelly and movie producer, Levi Callister are marooned alone for days in a mansion used as the set for an erotic film series.

When Levi discovers Cara sleeping naked in one of the sensuously themed rooms, the two embark on a collision course that can only end up in flagrante.

Cara is a nomadic loner, too afraid to commit to family, a home—or even a potted begonia.

Levi is a player—a womanizer and entrepreneur. He needs a lot of money, fast.

So, when sparks fly between the unlikely pair both in and outside of the various sexily-decorated bedrooms, Cara can’t help wondering if Levi’s insatiable interest in her is real—or if it’s just her missing inheritance he’s chasing.

 

Buy links

Amazon UK | Amazon US | All Romance eBooks | Barnes & Noble | Evernight Publishing | Smashwords

 

Excerpt

She was practically naked—the last pastel pink scrap of lace hid nothing. He could see, touch, taste everything. And yet there was something incredibly intimate and romantic about the slide of his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties, the slow drift of lace and fingertips over her thighs, the feel of his breath against her center.

She was desperately aroused, screamingly eager, wet and hot and throbbing for him. Her clit was puckered tight and the muscles inside her were clenched with anticipation.

He let her panties slither to her ankles, clasped the cheeks of her butt, and pressed his scorching mouth hard and without warning against her wet sex. His lips were apart and he sucked her inside his mouth—the whole plump folded core of her—and his tongue probed unerringly to her clitoris. The feel of his mouth was the most incredible pressure she had ever experienced. The fast, sure flicking of his tongue inside the full suckling of his lips almost drove her out of her mind. She had not known there was pleasure like this to be had.

Her whole body was flushed with longing, her breath was growing irregular, and her pulse was breakdancing all over the place. She could feel the tantalizing edges of orgasm fluttering around the limits of her excitement. But she needed more. Something to tip her over that exquisite, elusive precipice.

“More…” she gasped, clutching at his shoulders as he pressed his face between her thighs, maintaining her pleasure. But even as she begged, she had no idea how he could deliver what she needed. His ministrations were already utterly and deliciously absorbing.

She clung to him, a single drop of perspiration trickling between her engorged breasts as she gasped her need.

“Please…” The word was thin and strangled. She wasn’t even sure what she was asking for.

He slid his right hand from her buttocks around her hip and across her thigh. With nothing more than a gesture, he commanded her thighs apart and, lost in a maelstrom of lust, she mindlessly acquiesced. She felt utterly wanton standing before this man, legs spread while he thrilled her with his talented mouth, his hand stroking relentlessly up and down her thighs.

His fingers traveled lightly, teasingly, sometimes grazing the trimmed hair at her center, occasionally brushing the fleshy entrance to her feminine core.

She could barely catch her breath now and she felt dizzy. Her throat was clamped shut and the razzle-dazzle of dancing lights behind her eyelids told her she was close to losing consciousness. She was no longer holding his shoulders for balance and encouragement. Instead, her fingers dug into his skin for support, and as a desperate plea for him to take her where she needed to go.

“Please, Levi, please…”

He didn’t hesitate. On the next upstroke between her thighs, he drove his finger deep into her sex. Plunging the digit once, twice, thrice into her soaked and scorching channel.

And then she flew apart. The orgasm rocketed through her like a searing star shower. There was no room for thought. Her release was pure sensation, so intense it was almost painful, so complete it was practically spiritual. The spasms rocked the depths of her very being and even as they began to subside, she knew what Levi had given her was a gift both precious and rare, and that the experience had changed her so profoundly there was no return.

Gently, lovingly, he helped her to the bed, easing her quaking body down on the silken covers, sliding beside her and gathering her in his arms. Slowly, as though from far, far away, she came back to herself. First she noticed the warmth of his body in the cool air of the room, the scuff his body hair against her smooth skin, the soothing glide of his fingertips over her quivering arm and her hip. His heartbeat beneath her ear was a perfect counterpoint to the rain thrumming against the window. His breath tasted faintly of mint and wine and her own musk. Her breathing slowed to match his lungs’ steady rhythm and her trembling began to abate.

“You look beautiful there,” he murmured against her hair. “Your golden hair spread all across the bed, your skin glowing, your lips swollen…”

His hands emphasized his words, stroking her body more intently as he spoke. Of their own volition, her fingers followed suit, trailing over his skin, mindlessly exploring the bulges and hollows of his body. He shivered when her short fingernails skimmed his nipple, gasped when she trailed her index finger down his hip toward the waistband of his briefs.

There was no mistaking his arousal. The thick length of him spasmed every time her hand drew close, and there was a tell-tale spot of dampness near the tip. Enjoying his responses, she teasingly drew her fingers around his belly and down the edges of his jutting hipbones, across the elastic of his underwear and up and down the arrow of hair between his navel and the stretch of blue fabric. He hissed and growled and squirmed under her ministrations.

“You are going to drive me completely insane,” he ground out, but he made no move to hurry her or change her agenda. She could see the pulse leaping at his throat, the desperate bob of his Adam’s apple, the sheen of sweat glistening on his brow.

She smiled saccharine sweetly at him and deliberately brushed her hand over the bulge in his pants.

“Really?” Cara said. She did it again. “I’m so sorry…”

“Funny, Cara, you don’t sound very sorry.”

Was he actually panting?

She quirked an eyebrow, her gaze all delighted mischief. “It’s hard to be sorry when there’s this tempting package right in front of me, just begging to be unwrapped.”

“If you’d like to unwrap it, Cara, be my guest.”

“Oh, I’ll unwrap it all right, but I like to open my presents in my own sweet time. I enjoy prolonging the anticipation.”

She scuttled up his body and swallowed his groan in her mouth from her position beside him. The taste of him was complex and addictive. His lips were clever and intuitive. His tongue was thorough and tempting. Cara felt as though she could stay here, kissing like this, lost in Levi forever.

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Author bio

In between writing romantic stories, Rosie Vanyon is building a house on a hillside with stunning mountain views in her childhood home, Tasmania. She’s looking forward to sharing her dream house with her high-maintenance dog and a couple of naughty-but-smoochy cats. She has a Creative Arts degree and a grown-up job in financial services. Rosie has been a writer and editor in fields as diverse as motoring, travel and tax. She is relieved and elated to (once again) let loose her ‘romance author’ alter-ego. At last, she is following her heart.

Social media

http://www.facebook.com/rosievanyon

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