Category Archives: New Releases

An Amorous Woman’s Exotic Journey: The Storey Behind Donna George Storey’s Novel

It’s a real pleasure to welcome Donna George Storey to A Hopeful Romantic to tell us the story behind her exciting and very exotic novel, Amorous Woman. Welcome, Donna!

Thank you so much for having me, K D.  I love reading about the “Story Behind the Story” of your other guests here, because I find the creative process so fascinating.  I’m celebrating the ebook release of my novel, Amorous Woman, which was inspired by my own experiences as a foreigner living in Kyoto back in the 1980s.  A few years ago, I had the opportunity to return to Japan with my family and take photographs of the settings that played an important role in the book.  I was surprised at how many memories came flying back from just walking under the cherry blossoms at a picturesque temple or savoring a handmade rice-flour-and-bean-paste cake.  Yet perhaps it isn’t at all surprising that the sights, sounds, scents, and sensations of a new culture made such a deep impression on me.  Like my protagonist, Lydia, I too had a love affair with this fascinating country.

Kyoto Temple

After nine years living in Japan, Lydia Evans Yoshikawa is ready to renounce past indulgences: frolicking with a stranger in a hot spring bath, miming sex acts at a year-end banquet play, accepting money for sex.  She decides to take as her model the heroine of Ihara Saikaku’s seventeenth-century erotic classic, The Life of an Amorous Woman, who ended her lusty career as a nun in a mountain hermitage.  Ironically, just like the original Amorous Woman, she finds herself in the company of two attractive young men who convince her to tell them the story of her scandalous life.

Lydia recalls the beginning of her love affair with Japan in “A Dancing Girl of Easy Virtue,” where an entire year “folds in on itself like a dancer’s fan, leaving one perfect day in high summer.” This ideal day begins in her futon in the company of a handsome and willing college student, continues with a flirtation on a bus with a brawny American tourist and ends in an exclusive restaurant in the pleasure quarters of Gion, where Lydia falls in love with an elegant older man over a kaiseki dinner.

Maiko

Gion is indeed much the same as it was then. Teenage maiko still glide down the lantern-lit streets in their colorful kimono.

Chimoto

Chimoto, the restaurant where Lydia enjoyed a dinner of seduction, is still in business — no surprise as it’s been around since 1718.  Back in 1984, I parted the curtains and went inside for a nine-course meal of summer delicacies as the guest of a courtly dentist. This time I only glimpsed inside to be met with a curious glance from a passing waitress.

Later Lydia meets and marries a handsome Japanese salaryman but his dedication to his career sours the initial chemistry between them.  In “The Lusts of Learned Men,” she meets a new erotic playmate:  a fellow teacher at a women’s junior college. After work, they regularly slip away to that convenient Japanese institution, the love hotel. Here’s a sign for a couple’s hotel in Gion, called “For that Reason….”

Love Hotel

You’re supposed to supply your own reason to your spouse, but even if you don’t read Japanese, you can see from the sign that there are two options: an all-night stay for 7800 yen ($78) or a “rest” of a few hours starting at 2900 yen.

The floating world, that’s what they call it in Japan, the neon-lit world of dreams and desire and sex with people you aren’t married to, all rolled up together. It really did seem like I was floating that autumn, my feet hardly touching the sidewalk as Matt and I hurried along the narrow streets to the love hotel of our choice, at a different stop along the Hankyu line, every Tuesday and Thursday at dusk.

I quickly discovered that Matt liked me to tie him up. S&M games were popular in Japan — after all, Matt remarked, they even have a whole verb tense called the “suffering passive”–so the dungeon room was often taken when we arrived after our classes. But almost every room had handcuffs and tethers tucked in the nightstand and hooks at each corner of the bed for bad boys to get their just punishment.

Her affair with her American colleague convinces Lydia monogamy is not for her. As “The Fair Concubine of a Provincial Lord,” she trades the role of wife for that of hostess in an exclusive Gion club.  There she meets the urbane Kimura. With an uncanny knack for intuiting her desires, Kimura invites Lydia to the historic town of Tsumago so she can indulge her fantasies of old Japan.  Lydia and her patron enjoy strolling down the quiet streets and take a room in the town’s finest inn, where they first make love.

Tsumago

For the appetizer, Kimura liked to caress me slowly, pausing now and then, as if his fingertips were listening to my flesh whisper its secrets. He put the messages to good use. On our first night together in Tsumago, he found out my left nipple was more sensitive and that quick flicks along the right side of my clit were just the trick to send me over the edge. In the discreet inn in Higashiyama, he learned how I mewed when he drew circles in the soft crease of my elbow, and shivered in delight when he stroked my shoulder and pinched my nipple at the same time. Later, he grew bolder. He liked me noisy then, coaxing out a melody of sighs when he spanked me lightly on my vulva, then soothed my burning clit with a gentle stroking.

This is just a sampling of Lydia’s erotic adventures.  Of course, she was in many ways much bolder than I was, but it was a pleasure to be able to weave my own vivid sensual memories into my novel.  These memories and images are, indeed, the Storey behind my story.

Donna George Storey’s adults-only tales have appeared in over 150 journals and anthologies including Penthouse, Best Women’s Erotica, The Mammoth Book of Erotica Presents the Best of Donna George Storey, and Best Erotic Romance.

Amazon UK

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Amorous-Woman-ebook/dp/B0092X2SN8

Amazon US

http://www.amazon.com/Amorous-Woman-ebook/dp/B0092X2SN8/ref=tmm_kin_title_0

Amorous Woman Book Trailer

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BlnXqY-LyEE

Donna George Storey’s website

http://www.donnageorgestorey.com/

Follow DGS on Facebook

http://www.facebook.com/DGSauthor

 

 

 

 

New Release: Angel Laird Vampire Wife by Suz De Mello

Angel Laird Vampire WifeEdgar, Laird MacReiver, had never regretted his decision to wed Isobel, daughter of Clan Kilburn’s laird…until she bit his tongue and drank his blood. Will tying her hands, spanking her rump and making her come tame the wild child of the infamous vampire clan?

Or are some women too dangerous to tame?

Available from:

http://tinyurl.com/VampireWife  (USA)

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Angel-Vampire-Kilburn-Vampires-ebook/dp/B009PUR0F4/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1350417531&sr=1-1       (UK)

http://www.amazon.de/Angel-Vampire-Kilburn-Vampires-ebook/dp/B009PUR0F4/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1350417680&sr=1-1    (Germany)

http://www.amazon.fr/Angel-Laird-Vampire-Wife-ebook/dp/B009PUR0F4/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1350418187&sr=1-1   (France)

 

*****

Chapter One

Kilburn Castle, Scotland

1766

Some said that Edgar, Laird MacReiver, had made a deal with the devil. And not just an ordinary deal, for he’d agreed to marry the devil’s daughter.

Lacking a superstitious cast of mind, he’d never regretted his decision to ally with Clan Kilburn until this moment. Atop the battlements, he disregarded the noontime sun glittering over the sea, the fresh spring breeze off the water and the white clouds scudding through the sky. Instead, he watched the scene below him.

Down in the castle courtyard, a young woman struggled with a horse. Not just any young woman. She’d been betrothed to him before her birth. And not just any horse. Isobel, now eighteen, grasped the bridle of Ranger, a buckskin stallion, the pride and joy of Edgar’s heart.

She wrestled with a reluctant Ranger before swinging long legs clad in trews over the steed’s back. Clinging to his mane, she somehow kept her seat while the stallion curvetted and spun. Her hat flew off and her braid loosened, the black hair whipping ‘round as Ranger sought to dislodge her.

Another neigh and a leap before the horse dashed out of the open gate. His hooves clattered on the drawbridge as he galloped over the moat. Isobel clung to his back like a flea unwilling to give up its perch on a dog.

“I ordered her not to ride Ranger,” Edgar said with some disbelief and more resentment. “He’s too big for her. And he’s young, not quite broken. The only rider he tolerates is me.”

“Our Isobel is a bold horsewoman.” Kieran Kilburn cocked a dark brow at Edgar. “She doesna like to admit that there’s a steed on this earth that she canna master.”

Though nearing his fiftieth year, the Kilburn chieftain hadn’t sprouted even one gray hair. No wrinkles marred his smooth, unusually white skin, save those that were the product of his constant smile. All the Kilburns shared the same traits: tall and strong, with midnight black hair and eyes. In comparison Edgar often had felt like a little white mouse, at least until he grew and the lassies started to take an interest in his fair hair and blue eyes. Then he’d realized that his different looks were an advantage.

An advantage, that is, with everyone but Isobel.

“She obeys you.” The wind loosened the leather thong tying Edgar’s hair at the nape. He tightened it. “Why not me?”

Kier’s eyes twinkled. “She obeys me, laddie, because I punish her when she does not.”

“May I borrow your Dash?” Frowning, Edgar turned to descend into the courtyard with Kieran following.

“Aye, but don’t count on Dash to catch his son.”

“We’ll do our best. Thank you, sir.” He handed his blue jacket to a guard and mounted the buckskin. “I go now to find my bride. I hope she’ll return suitably chastened.”

With a shrug, Kier folded his arms over his chest. “Ye ken what ye have to do.”

* * * * *

Edgar caught up with Isobel and Ranger in the forest. The horse now ambled rather than raced, the trees bordering the meadow surrounding the castle having slowed his flight. Edgar eased Dash into a walk and splashed through a brook while watching Ranger manage Isobel.

The stallion apparently decided that he no longer would tolerate even Isobel’s light weight and proceeded to use a low-hanging branch to scrape her off. She landed flat on her back with a grunt. Ranger headed toward the stream and the new green grass beside it, thank the gods, instead of trampling the silly wench under his hooves.

Her laughter could be heard even from several yards away. “La! What a ride! I’ll tame that mount yet.” She sat up and rubbed her back.

Still on horseback, Edgar towered over her. “The only mount who needs taming is you. No harm done, milady?” He was pleased that he kept a mild tone of voice, because inside he was seething.

“None.” She smiled up at him, her black eyes twinkling through the curtain of her lashes.

Bewitching, but he hardened his heart, determined that he’d not be led by the nose. He didn’t like managing females, and if he allowed her to rule him now, she’d rule him forever. “Whatever possessed you to steal Ranger?”

“I didn’t steal Ranger. I borrowed him.”

“Against my express wishes. If your clumsiness has harmed him, Isobel—”

“My clumsiness?” She leapt to her feet.

He gave her a long, cool stare before turning away. He chirruped to Ranger, who raised his head from the sweet grass by the stream. Still chewing, he walked sedately to Edgar.

He dismounted to caress his horse’s forehead before running his hands along the neck and body. Something hot and red billowed in Isobel’s chest. What was it? ‘Twas the same uncomfortable feeling she got when her younger brothers or sisters claimed too much of their parents’ attention. The same horrible emotion that overcame her when other lassies dared to flirt with Edgar…which happened more frequently than she liked.

Jealousy.

She was jealous of the attention Edgar was giving to a horse. A horse.

Bloody hell.

Removing his gloves, Edgar slid expert fingers up and down each of Ranger’s legs, paying particular attention to the delicate fetlocks.

She wondered how those long, tanned, strong fingers would feel if he touched her. When he finally touched her. So far he’d kept his distance even though they were affianced, a fact which she both liked and resented.

He straightened with a sigh. “No harm done. You were lucky this time, my girl.”

“Your girl? Since when am I your girl?”

He led the horse back to the stream and dropped the reins.  Ranger drank placidly. Standing in the water with tail a’swish, he seemed completely unlike the wild beast she’d sought to tame. Dash joined him.

Edgar eyed the horses, then eyed her. “You’ve been mine since before you were born.”

“I mislike your manner, sir. I am yet unmarried. I belong to no man.”

“You belong to me.” He returned, looming over her, tall and blond and impossibly beautiful. The Angel Laird, the lassies called him. Well, they could have him.

“I willna be ordered. I willna be treated as though I’m a possession.”

He took her by the shoulders. “But you are.”

His mouth descended on hers while one hand seized the back of her head, holding her fast. She couldna resist, and didna want to, for she’d yearned for this moment.

*****

Best-selling, award-winning author Sue Swift, a.k.a Suz deMello, has written over fifteen novels, plus several short stories and non-fiction articles. She writes in numerous genres including romance, mystery, paranormal, historical, contemporary comedy and erotica. She’s a freelance editor who’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, Liquid Silver Books and Etopia Press. She also takes on private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in PW, Kirkus and Booklist, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, she resides in northern California. Her passion is world travel, and she’s left the US over a dozen times, including stints working overseas for many months. Right now, she’s working on her next manuscript and planning her next trip.

Her blog is at http://www.fearlessfastpacedfiction.com. Find her reading picks @ReadThis4fun on Twitter, and befriend her on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/SueSwift ). Her sites are at http://www.sue-swift.com and http://www.suzdemello.com.

 

More Smut from Felthouse and Blisse!

Smut in the CitySmut in the City, edited by Lucy Felthouse and Victoria Blisse

Sultry, smouldering sex in the city is the theme of this erotic anthology, edited by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse.

From the stifling heat of the London Underground to the crumbling walls of Rome’s Colosseum, Smut in the City has it all. Whatever your interpretation of sultry urban sex, there’s something nestling between the covers for you. Lusty couples, horny office workers, hunky bakers and gardeners, tourists and the Mafia are portrayed for your titillation in this exciting collection of stories from erotica’s finest authors.

eBook:

Amazon UK
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks
Barnes & Noble
Kobobooks.com

Print:

Amazon UK
Amazon US

Excerpt:

Within the Crumbling Walls

By Lucy Felthouse

Exiting the Colosseo Metro station, Libby shot a grin at her boyfriend, Ciaran. “I don’t think we’ll have any trouble finding it, do you?”

“Hmm?” Ciaran frowned, then turned his gaze in the direction that Libby was pointing. He gave a sheepish smile. “No, I don’t think we will. Shall we put the map away?”

Libby nodded, and Ciaran spun round so she should take the map and load it into his backpack. Zipping it back up, she patted it twice to signal she was done. Ciaran turned and held out his hand. She took it, and together they took their lives in their hands crossing the busy Roman road and walked to the Colosseum.

Despite the early hour, the queue was already considerable, and the couple exchanged a wry look. But then Libby remembered something. “Hey, don’t look so glum babe. We can skip the queue, remember?”

Ciaran frowned. “We can?”

Pulling a small credit card shaped and sized item from her pocket, she replied, “Yes! Our Roma cards mean we can get in quicker. That was one of the selling points the rep kept going on about when she was trying to flog them to us.”

Ciaran slapped his forehead theatrically, then retrieved his own card from his pocket. “Of course!” He used his not inconsiderable height to peer over the heads of the group in front of him. “Okay, I see it. There’s a separate line for Roma Pass holders, and it’s moving tons quicker. Hurrah!”

He made his way through the crowd, using a combination of touches on people’s backs and the words “excuse me.” Libby followed quickly in his wake. Soon they were at the back of the very short and swiftly-moving queue. People passed through, showing their cards to a very stern-looking Italian man, who nodded and pointed them towards another line.

This time they scanned their cards through some kind of barcode reader, and finally, they were in. Within the crumbling walls of the ancient Colosseum, probably the most famous landmark in Rome. Looking around, Libby could see why.

Photos and videos didn’t do it justice. She wasn’t sure if Colosseum translated to colossal or not, but it was certainly the most apt word to describe the place. It really was huge—and they hadn’t even seen the best part yet. Following Ciaran from the ticket booth area—which was literally within the great walls—they passed out into the open area in the middle. Libby gasped. It was amazing.

They were at ground level, with two or three levels above—she wasn’t sure which—and of course, the one below. Where the gladiators, warriors and fierce creatures would have been kept before being forced to fight in the arena.

Realising Ciaran was gaping at the sight before them too, she encouraged him forward. “Come on, we’re kind of in the way here.” Looking left, she saw an area which was fenced off and held warning signs urging the public not to enter. Libby snorted. The whole place was falling to pieces, how could they possibly deem one section more dangerous than another?

Shaking her head, she turned her attention to the right and saw an area which would allow them a better view of the arena floor. She grabbed Ciaran’s hand and pulled him with her.

Leaning on a barrier and looking out, Libby saw that arena “floor” was not an accurate description. At one end of the enormous structure, a wooden base had been erected, but the rest of the oval was open, displaying what lay beneath. It looked like a labyrinth, and suddenly she became aware of an English-speaking tour guide telling his group the history of the place. She eavesdropped for a while, then fell to thinking how lucky she was to have been born in this day and age. She’d never know anyone who’d be thrown to their deaths in such a place—or be forced to watch them killed in such a brutal manner.

*****

Lucy Felthouse: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk

Victoria Blisse: http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk

Velvet Tongue Erotic Literary Soiree Pre-Halloween Fun and Filth

I’ve been crowing for the past two months about how excited I am to be a guest at award winning poet, Ernesto Sarezle’s fabulous Velvet Tongue Erotic Literary Soiree coming up on the 29th of October at Bar Kick in Shoreditch. AND just in time for the release of novel two of my Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy, Riding the Ether, a paranormal erotic romp with ghosts and witches, sex magic and demons. I’ll be offering up a few naughty, maybe even scary tidbits.
Ernesto, more widely known as the Naked Poet, was kind enough to share a little bit with me about how the Velvet Tongue Erotic Literary Soiree came to be.
“Velvet Tongue started in February 2011. After many years considering the possibility of hosting an erotic literary event in London, I finally went for it when I was offered a fantastic venue, a sexy little gallery in Bethnal Green (Ten Gales) which, with its smart art deco style, adorned with lots of red drapery, proved to be the perfect setup for such an event. Sadly the gallery closed down and the second edition of VT had to be hosted in a new venue, where Velvet Tongue is still hosted. Luckily this new venue is also very special: the Bar Kick, a trendy sports bar in Shoreditch which, unbeknown to many of its punters, hides a charming little performance space in its dark basement.
For many years, I had been thinking that there was a niche for this kind of soirée. I was not aware of any other event like this in London (apart from an “erotic reading group” that gathers monthly to discuss erotic books) and I felt – rightly as it turns out – that there was a demand for it. Also, I had had experience organizing queer poetry nights (Glam Slam and – in the distant past – Homophone) which I quite enjoyed. But I wanted to try out something a bit more “polysexual” and more varied, including not only performance poetry but also other literary forms and performance approaches. Among events that have inspired me I can mention poetry open mic nights and literary salons in London. But VT is closer to an event called Perverts Put Out in which I once participated in San Francisco. The event, which normally coincides with the Folsom Street Fair in September, gives voice to alternative sexualities and lifestyles (so prominent in the Californian city).
What to expect at Velvet Tongue: If you are there as a member of the audience, the opportunity to hear the stimulating and diverse voices of people from all walks of life dealing with intimate aspects of their sexuality.  If you are a writer or performer, the opportunity to present your own erotically-themed material at one of the open mic slots (if there are any available; booking in advance by email is recommended) in front of an appreciative audience. To ensure quality literary standards I always invite three or more guest performers whose work I am familiar with and thus I know are going to deliver something exciting and worth listening to.
In the past two editions, there has been a good deal of flesh exposure, including full frontal, both male and female. But potential contributors should not be scared; rather, they should be excited and expectant at the prospect of performing in front of a warm, open minded and enthusiastic audience.”
Thank you, Ernesto!
I’m way too shy to get my kit off, but I’m not too shy to read about people who aren’t, and to read about all the fun they get up to once they do get their kit off. If you’re in London on Monday evening, the 29th, be sure to join the fun.
Hosted by Erotic Award winning poet, Ernesto Sarezale.This autumn, our featured writers are:

K. D. Grace (novelist)
S. P. Howarth (poet)with special appearances by:
Rubyyy Jones (burlesque artist)
& Itzi Urrutia (performance artist)Plus the usual open mic slotsand other surprises still to be confirmed.To get one of the (5 mins) open mic slots: email Ernesto (ernesto [at] sarezale.com).

Velvet Tongue
127 Shoreditch High Street, London. E1 6JE
(Old St/Liverpool St tubes)
7pm-10:30pm, £3

Just Who is Behind the Smut and Magic ?

Smut and Magic

The time is fast approaching! The event I’ve been waiting for since February! Smut and Magic is a launch party times three! I’m honoured to be partying with Lucy Felthouse and Victoria Bliss on Saturday October 27th at Sh! Women’s Store. Lucy and Victoria will be launching Smut in the City, the fabulous new anthology they schemed, dreamed and co-edited. I’ve seen the list of writers included, and all I can say is WOW! A must read!

Smut In The City will be accompanied by Sex Magic in the Lake District, as I launch book two of my Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy, Riding the Ether. I know from experienc Lucy and Victoria know how to party, and the Ladiez at Sh! — well that goes without saying. There’ll be fun, fizz, filth and magic.

As time grows closer and the three of us plan and scheme naughty reads, yummy giveaways and lots of party fun in general, I thought it would be a great opportunity to intruduce you to my two lovely Partners in Smut and let them give you just a tiny taste of their magic. So please welcome Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse to A Hopeful Romantic!

Victoria Blisse

I never really contemplated becoming an author as an actual proper career plan but I always had it at the top of my list of ‘favourite fantasy jobs I’d love’ just above Physio for Manchester United and paid chocolate taster. How did I get into erotica? I tend to blame my husband.

You see, I had a dream, an erotic dream and that damn dream would not leave me alone so the wise and wonderful husband told me to write it down, so I did. Kev then told me I should post it up on the internet for the world to see, so I did and I continued to post stories for free on literotica.com for many years and still do it now and then just for the nostalgia of it.

So it’s all his fault.

I have a lot of short stories and novellas to my name now. I write for Total-E-Bound, Xcite, HarperCollins Mischief and House of Erotica who are all British based as well as a few American publishers and I will be published with both Sweetmeats and Cleis press in the near future! I also apparently edit anthologies now. I’ve edited several Bigger Briefs Anthologies and Smut by the Sea and Smut in the City with Lucy Felthouse, fellow Northern Bird and partner in crime. I have an average of one book a month released and spend a lot of time on facebook http://facebook.com/victoriablisse , twitter http://twitter.com/victoriablisse and the like promoting my work. As well as keeping my blog updated http://victoriablisse.co.uk  I’ve also had the pleasure of reading live to audiences and meeting up with other erotica writers in the flesh as it were. I count many of them as good friends, there’s a real sense of community in the erotica and erotic romance (what I write more often than not) worlds. I am always amazed by how supportive my fellow authors can be and I can’t wait to meet up with my pals at Sh! Again for Smut and Magic!

Excerpt from Mad Fer it in Manchester featured in Smut in the City.

We munch on in silence and watch the kids hurtling through the water.

“I don’t know how they do it,” I laugh, “that water must be freezing.”

“Oh, it looks fun to me,” Stuart grins. “And I’m so hot in this damn suit.”

“Yes you are,” I reply without thinking and his smile expands to cover his whole face. I try to find some way of covering up my little slip. “So go on then, I dare you to stand on there with the kiddies.”

“I bet you I can do it and not get wet.”

“How much?”

“Winner gets a kiss.”

Now that sounds like a win-win situation to me.

“You’re on!” I settle back in the grass. He jumps up, pulls off his jacket and drops it to the floor beside me. It smells of him, spicy and fresh. I resist the urge to run the heavy material against my cheek. I carry on watching him and yes, he’s doing it. He’s standing in the middle of the fountain. It’s completely dry now but it’s obviously going to spurt soon. The little kids are laughing nervously, anticipating the cooling jets that will explode beneath them at any minute. I hold my breath. Will he get wet?

“Ha, see!” He taunts as the water shoots up a metre or so away from him, “told you.”

I’m just about to respond when a spout of water comes to my rescue and squirts up directly beside him, showering him in ice cold water.

“You were saying?” I clap my hands in delight.

He just laughs and wipes his wet hair from his eyes. His white shirt is clinging to his chest now and I can see the outline of his nipples and the dip of his bellybutton.

“Come on in, Lauren, the water is fine.”

“No, we need to go get you dry.” I look at my watch. “We’ve only got twenty minutes.”

“Okay, bring me my jacket.”

I stand and walk towards the fountain. He’s perched on the edge and holds out his hand. I pass him the jacket but he grabs hold of me and pulls me towards him. I follow him with a yell, leaping up the step and onto the wet marble top.

“What are you doing?” I squeal, “I’ll get soaked.”

“That’s what I am hoping for.” He spins me round right into the path of one of the jets. I scream as the water soaks through my skirt and my blouse and hits my heated cheeks. It’s icy cold and all my senses jump alive from the shock.

“You little…” Just in time I remember we’re surrounded by kids so I refrain from calling him a nasty name. He laughs, grabs me around the waist and pulls me to him.

“I like you wet,” he whispers, wiping a strand of clinging hair from my face. My gaze stays locked with his and I nervously lick my top lip. He follows the action with the movement of his eyes and then the space between our mouths is only millimetres and suddenly he’s kissing me.

Lucy Felthouse

Lucy is a graduate of the University of Derby, where she studied Creative Writing. During her first year, she was dared to write an erotic story – so she did. It went down a storm and she’s never looked back. Lucy has had stories published by Cleis Press, Constable and Robinson, Decadent Publishing, Ellora’s Cave, Evernight Publishing, House of Erotica, Ravenous Romance, Resplendence Publishing, Sweetmeats Press and Xcite Books. She is also the editor of Uniform Behaviour, Seducing the Myth, Smut by the Sea and Smut in the City. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Blurb:

Sultry, smouldering sex in the city is the theme of this erotic anthology, edited by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse.

From the stifling heat of the London Underground to the crumbling walls of Rome’s Colosseum, Smut in the City has it all. Whatever your interpretation of sultry urban sex, there’s something nestling between the covers for you. Lusty couples, horny office workers, hunky bakers and gardeners, tourists and the Mafia are portrayed for your titillation in this exciting collection of stories from erotica’s finest authors.

Excerpt:

Exiting the Colosseo Metro station, Libby shot a grin at her boyfriend, Ciaran. “I don’t think we’ll have any trouble finding it, do you?”

“Hmm?” Ciaran frowned, then turned his gaze in the direction that Libby was pointing. He gave a sheepish smile. “No, I don’t think we will. Shall we put the map away?”

Libby nodded, and Ciaran spun round so she should take the map and load it into his backpack. Zipping it back up, she patted it twice to signal she was done. Ciaran turned and held out his hand. She took it, and together they took their lives in their hands crossing the busy Roman road and walked to the Colosseum.

Despite the early hour, the queue was already considerable, and the couple exchanged a wry look. But then Libby remembered something. “Hey, don’t look so glum babe. We can skip the queue, remember?”

Ciaran frowned. “We can?”

Pulling a small credit card shaped and sized item from her pocket, she replied, “Yes! Our Roma cards mean we can get in quicker. That was one of the selling points the rep kept going on about when she was trying to flog them to us.”

K D Grace

Me, you already know, so here’s just a touch of magic from book two of the Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy, Riding the Ether.

Excerpt:

The therapist straightened in her chair and folded her hands together on top of her desk blotter like she was about to say a prayer. ‘Just get comfortable, Alice, like you normally do when you meditate. That’s it, just relax. Feet flat on the floor. Shoulders soft. Deep, even breaths. And when you’re ready, I want you to go to that place where you meet this man of your imagination, go there just as you are, relaxed, comfortable, unafraid. Go there and just be in that space and just …’

And she was. She was there, surround by, well, surrounded by nothing. Just empty space. How could there be just empty space? But it was alright. Empty space she could handle. Empty space was alright, as long as she was there alone. There was barely time for a mental sigh of relief before her blood chilled in her veins and it was as though a shadow had crossed over her consciousness. She couldn’t hear him, she couldn’t see him, but she knew. Dear Goddess, she knew! He was there.

‘I’ve missed you, my darling. Why have you stayed away so long?’ His voice was in her ear, like he was right behind her, no, more like he was inside her, right there with her. Her skin crawled, like it wanted to escape her flesh. Her throat ached with a scream it couldn’t quite form, a scream for help from Kate. Her nipples were suddenly painful, and she was wet. Oh dear Goddess, she was so wet and swollen. She whimpered desperately and tore at the fly of her trousers.

‘Oh my poor little witch, my poor little darling, do you see how you suffer when you stay away from me?’

She clawed at her pentacle for comfort, but found none. He only chuckled softly. She could feel his voice deep in her chest making her nipples even harder. ‘But all of your suffering is over now, my beauty. I shall make you feel better, and that is what you want, isn’t it? You want me to make you feel better.’

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That’s 27th October

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