How Reviews Spurred Lily Harlem On to Write Stockholm Surrender

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It’s a pleasure to welcome the lovely Lily Harlem back to A Hopeful Romantic with the story behind her sizzling novel, Stockholm Surrender. Welcome Lily!

Be they good or bad reviews are part of the territory when you’re an author. I am happy to say that the vast majority of reviews for my books are positive and it completely thrills me to know readers have enjoyed my stories.

One book however seemed to create a bit of a Marmite effect. People either loved it or hated it. It is a free short read that came out at Ellora’s Cave a couple of years ago called Stockholm Seduction. It is about a Penny Tipping, the British Foreign Ministers daughter, enjoying a gap year in Australia. She is kidnapped by a hunky surfer and…

Actually it’s probably easier for you to read the blurb –

I was having a fabulous extended gap year in Oz. Sun, sea, sand and seriously hot surfers rolling in on every wave. Mmm, what could possibly be better?

But then I was taken…taken against my will. Stolen like a prized object. I was tied up, held for ransom. I didn’t know if I would survive, if I would walk away alive. And then, to top it all off, I was tortured in the sweetest, most delicious, most sensual way imaginable.

That was when I realized my fun down under had only just begun.

To be honest I didn’t think much more about this story after it was released. It was just a taster for people to hear my voice and sample my style without having to pay for it.

Then about a year ago I was wandering around Amazon looking for something to read when I came across reviews for Stockholm Seduction. I was surprised to find that it either had the ick factor or the ‘more’ factor. Here are a couple of reader comments from either side of that spectrum.

“A woman is kidnapped, and decides to have sex with her captor? The message in this short story is disturbing on so many levels.”

And…

“I was panting to know what happened when he found her next! I’ve read romantic short stories before, and they always left me hollow, but Lily’s left me craving. I would definitely recommend this e-book if you want a quick read with steamy scenes, hot men, and women that know what they want and are not ashamed to admit it. I get excited shivers thinking what the author could do with a full length book!”

This got me really thinking and I headed over to Goodreads to see what readers had said there. The overwhelming comments were to the effect of “this story is too short” and “where is the rest?”

So me being me, I got my naughty mind whirring and over the next few weeks waited to see if the characters would talk to me again. I wanted desperately to oblige the people who had taken the time to comment on the book and give them the rest of the novel.

Luckily Penny and Ty were desperate to have their steamy tale told and soon it was evolving in my mind and flowing from my fingertips at a rate of knots.

But like all novels there are stumbling blocks. In this case I had the basics of the plot already written, not only that those facts were published, out there in the world. There was absolutely nothing I could do to undo anything. The delete button was non-existent for that crucial first part of the novel.

So what I had was Ty Winters trying to free his friend James Hill from Thai prison by holding Penny Tipping to ransom. He wanted a better human rights lawyer and her influential father to help release him from a harsh sentence for a minor crime. From the word go Penny and Ty have a very strong attraction to one another that Ty in particular struggles with – that was never part of his kidnapping plan. What I did do in the original short story that helped immensely though was leave it on a Terminator-type line “I’ll be back.” So that was a nice springboard to leap off of in chapter one.

One of the reasons I enjoyed writing this so much was because I got to send Ty and Penny to Bangkok one of my most favourite cities. The colours, the vibrancy, the smells and the people really flooded my head again as I wrote this section of the story and I hope my love of Bangkok comes across in my descriptions.

James was an interesting character, who when I wrote the initial short story wasn’t someone I thought I would ever meet. He was just a name plucked out of the air and a reason for Ty to take Penny. But then, writing Stockholm Surrender, I had to meet him. I was very glad I did, he was quite a challenge. Why? Because I needed him to be a suitable best mate for adrenaline-junkie Ty, which meant he too had to have a streak of wildness about him, but at the same time having a death penalty hanging over his head and living in hell for so long had to have some effect on him. By that I mean physically, emotionally and sexually. Luckily Penny was incredibly empathetic to his vulnerability and masculinity and the scenes with James flowed deliciously onto the page.

So I guess, now that the novel to accompany Stockholm Seduction is out there I have to say a big thank you to everyone who asked for more from Penny and Ty. Because if they hadn’t taken the time to poke me into action this story would never have been written. And that folks, is the story behind the story.

Thanks so much for having me today KD, its always fun to come and hang out on your blog. Below are more details for Stockholm Surrender.

Blurb for Stockholm Surrender

My soul was in turmoil. Ty Winters had not only kidnapped me in Oz, my heartstoppingly gorgeous surfer had also stoked my darkest desires, bringing all my fantasies to the surface. So Oxford wasn’t going well. Until, that is, he creeped from the shadows—desperate, sexy, dangerous and wanting a piece of me, literally!

He teased me with a taste of his carnal skills, leaving me burning with frustration then forced to stand by as he fought for his beliefs using my lust-addled body as his most powerful weapon.

Oh, my kidnapper knew just how to get what he wanted, giving me just what I needed, while hiding our relationship from the British foreign minister and police. Because sometimes two people are meant to be, even in the most unconventional circumstances and twisted situations. We could fight the world, but we couldn’t fight our passion.

Reader Advisory: This book contains a steamy scene where Ty shares Penny with his best mate—lucky girl!

Excerpt from Stockholm Surrender

With my window letting in the sounds of the city, I spread my notes on my bed and tapped away on my netbook. The history of law was everyone’s most hated subject, but I knew the sooner I tackled it the better. Leaving it to the last minute would be crazy.

Eventually though, as darkness claimed the hall grounds and the lampposts flicked on, I decided to call it a day, or rather a night. Saved my work and flopped back on the bed. I would just stretch out for ten minutes before I got up to change and get ready for sleep.

But sleep wouldn’t wait, and before I knew it I felt myself drifting. Falling into a dark, dreamy world. My eyes were heavy, my breathing shallow. I let myself go—float into a world of thoughts and nothingness, white clouds and black sleep.

“Shh!”

There was tightness over my mouth and pressure over the entire length of my body. Whatever it was had squeezed the air from my lungs and was pinning me to the bed. I opened my eyes, panicked.

“Shh!” Ty said, his eyes wide and his nose practically touching mine.

Hastily, I nodded. Oh my god. Was I dreaming or was Ty really here, lying on the bed with me?

He hesitated then lifted his gloved hand from my mouth just a fraction. “You are going to keep quiet, aren’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” I whispered.

This was no dream.

“Good, ’cause I don’t want that copper who’s stalking you to come crashing in.”

“He won’t. I promise.”

Ty lifted up, reached over and shut the window. With a snap, he drew the curtains then pulled off his gloves.

“Is that how you got in?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Really, up the tree, and…” Something was different. I realized what it was. “Why has the lamppost gone off?”

“I tripped it, didn’t want anyone seeing me breaking into the foreign minister’s daughter’s bedroom.” He grinned naughtily.

“And did they?”

“No, I shouldn’t think so, not at three in the morning.”

“Three?” I glanced at my bedside clock. Sure enough, it was three a.m.

He chuckled and lay back down next to me. “I guess you got carried away with your studies. I used to be like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, don’t look so shocked, I have a first in sports science.” He touched his finger to the bald patch of my scalp and a rush of heated desire poured through me. “I know all about the human body,” he whispered, “and exactly what it needs to stay healthy and happy and…satisfied.”

Unable to suppress a whimper of pure lust, I slid my hand over his shoulders and tugged him closer. “I wish you would damn well give me some of the satisfaction I need.”

“You’re always so demanding, and so…damn…horny.” He touched his lips to mine, soft and gentle, his tongue peeking into my mouth and past my teeth to tangle and turn and explore. “Oh Jesus, Penny, you drive me crazy,” he murmured. “You do know that, don’t you?”

“Good, because that’s how you make me feel.”

He stroked down the column of my neck, dipping his fingertip into the hollow of my throat and down my sternum. “I want you so bad,” he said, “but there is something we have to do before we can be together.”

“What?” What could he possibly need to do other than put on a damn condom? His erection was growing by the second against my hip. All I needed was for him to get inside me like he had before. Thrust and grind and do that thing to my clit he was so bloody good at. Just the thought of it had me shivering.

“Wait,” he said, reaching behind himself.

Suddenly a tight strip of tape slapped over my mouth. Gone was the luscious kissing of moments ago and in its place foul plastic stickiness.

“Mmmph!” I managed, trying to project massive indignation with my eyes.

“It won’t take long.”

I tried to reach for the tape, intent on pulling it off, but he had both my hands harnessed in just one of his.

“Sit.” He pulled me upright, tugging at my sweater. “We need this off.”

His breaths were rapid and hot on my face as he moved his hands quickly and efficiently, freeing my arms from the sweater before swiftly dragging it over my head.

“Ah fuck, white,” he said, staring at my pretty lace bra. It had delicate scallop details over the rise of my small, pert breasts and a tiny pale blue flower in the center between the cups. “White is my very favorite.” His voice was almost wistful.

“Mmmph!” I mumbled again. Why did I have this tape on? I said I wouldn’t shout for Roger. Why didn’t he believe me?

“Shh, shh, just for a minute, baby, just for a couple of minutes.” He stood, still holding my wrists tight, and nudged the straight-backed chair out from under my desk with his foot. “Up, come on, sit on here, quickly.” He glanced at the door.

As soon as I was on the chair he was behind me, wrapping what felt like cord around my wrists. I yanked but the binding was tight and attached me to the rungs.

“It’s okay,” he soothed by my ear, his breath warm and tickly. “It’s okay.” He slid his hand over my bare shoulder, tracing the strap of my bra right down to the cup.

I arched my spine, needing his touch so desperately. Ty in my fantasies would have his hands all over me by now. Ty in my fantasies would already be ravishing me until we were both desperately trying to muffle our screams and panting for breath.

But this wasn’t fantasy, this was real. Ty was really here, really tying me up again. And for god’s sake, why was this stuff on my mouth?

He poked his fingers into my bra and tweaked my nipple. I whimpered and fluttered my eyes shut. His caress sent sinful licks of wantonness raging though me.

“Damn it, Ty,” he muttered. “Think of James.” His body heat left me and the next thing I knew he was pulling off my jeans, exposing my tiny white thong. “Ah, fucking hell, what are you trying to do to me?” he groaned, wearing a very real expression of pain.

I couldn’t answer.

He reached back onto the bed for a small, brown leather rucksack. He delved into it and pulled out a newspaper and a camera.

“It’s yesterday’s,” he said. “But your father will still get the message.” He tilted his head and smirked lopsidedly. “The message that I can get to you whenever I want, wherever I want, bodyguard or no bodyguard.” Carefully he laid the newspaper on my lap. It was sort of folded up onto my belly so that the headline was visible. He took a step back and held up a small, silver digital camera. “I would say smile,” he said with a shrug, “but I guess it’s not appropriate.”

Appropriate!

That was the goddamn understatement of the year. Dad was really going to flip at this one. Me in my underwear, gagged, tied to a chair in my room with Roger snoozing outside, just a few feet away. The shit was really going to hit the fan. Big-time.

I heard the camera click once then Ty was back next to me. He folded up the paper and shoved it along with the camera into his bag.

“Mmmph,” I said, shifting on the chair.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” he said, bending over me and peeling off the tape. It tugged and stung as it pulled my skin. “Baby, I’m sorry, I just needed to do that.” He shoved the tape into his bag too.

“For fuck’s sake,” I hissed. “That stuff is foul and what the hell are you playing at?”

He stooped and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “Sorry, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

I allowed my mouth to become pliant and open, let him in to search and gently tease my tongue with his in slow, languid movements. He tasted divine, like fresh water, a hint of vanilla and turned-on man. As he kissed me reverently, indulgently, my irritation with him dissolved as though it were a spoonful of sugar in hot tea. This was what I’d been waiting for, this moment with Ty. The man I shouldn’t want but did. The man whose tenacity and loyalty I admired even though everyone else thought he was a brutish thug who should be hung, drawn and quartered.

“Ty,” I gasped. “Please, untie me.”

“Mmm, in a minute. I kinda like having you at my mercy.”

“I’ve noticed.”

He smiled, slow and sexy. “It gives me all kinds of dirty ideas.”

Buy links:

Stockholm Seduction – FREE – http://www.jasminejade.com/p-8620-stockholm-seduction.aspx

Stockholm Surrender – http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9743-stockholm-surrender.aspx

About Lily Harlem

Lily Harlem lives in the UK with a workaholic hunk, a crazy cat and an old dog. With a desk overlooking farmland, she allows her imagination to run free and revels in being able to use the written word as an outlet for her creativity. She won the Lovehoney award for erotic fiction in 2009 and has been writing non-stop ever since and is now multi-published by both US and UK houses as well as featuring in numerous anthologies.

Where you can fine Lily Harlem

Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/

Blog http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/

Twitter https://twitter.com/#!/lily_harlem

Facebook http://en-gb.facebook.com/people/Lily-Harlem/100003519563064

Facebook author page http://www.facebook.com/pages/Lily-Harlem-author-page/200182030094568

Pinterest http://pinterest.com/lilyharlem/

 

 

Anything But Vanilla By Madelynne Ellis — It’s Free!

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It’s my pleasure to welcome the fabulous Madelynne Ellis to The Story Behind the Story today. Madlynne’s going to tell us how Anything But Vanilla came to be, share a hot excerpt and offer a fabulous giveaway of a copy of her historical erotic novella, Capturing Cora, to one lucky commenter. Welcome, Madelynne!

Anything But Vanilla came about because I was asked to produce a novel proposal with a contemporary setting in which the action started right there on the first page. Anyone who is familiar with my work will know that while at least half of my output consists of books with contemporary settings my first love is historical novels. So, here was a challenge—how to get myself interested in writing another modern day book?

First of all, I needed an interesting setting. Office politics make me snore. I became a writer to avoid that rat race. I’m not much for secret clubs, and there’s absolutely nothing sexy about most of my daily chores, eg. the school run. I needed to find somewhere that spelled adventure to me. In the past, I’ve set contemporaries in, Egypt (Passion of Isis), a Scottish castle (Dark Designs), a tiny Yorkshire village (Enticement). While looking back over what I’d already done, I noticed they all have a common element. They’re all remote, isolated places. I needed another out of the way place to infuse with sensuality. An island seemed like the obvious choice, hence I began rekindling my love for St Michael’s Mount and Fort Clonque, which is an island off Alderney, in the Channel Islands.

As soon as I had the setting, an island linked to the mainland by a narrow causeway that flooded at high tide, the characters became clear. Naturally, the island had to have an owner (Bingo! Hero #1. Ric Liddell), and of course there’d be tourists, which meant there’d have to be an ice-cream seller (Hero #2. Zach Blackwater. Yes, I’d already decided it was going to be a ménage). That simply left the heroine. What was she doing on this lonely piece of rock in the English Channel?

Well… she absolutely wasn’t looking for love. Matter of fact, she was running away from a man who was demanding commitment from her. Straight away, I knew Kara North was a woman with a mission. She wasn’t going to be a damsel in distress. She was up for adventure. Liddell Island was going to give her the space to do all the naughty things she liked and dreamed of doing, without facing the constant censure of her family. Not that I wanted things to be too easy for her, which is why I dumped her right in the middle if an “established” if somewhat shaky relationship. The two men might be lovers at the start, but they’re experiencing problems largely because commitment phobic, Ric, doesn’t see why he should give up his poly-amorous lifestyle. I’m not letting on if he’s convinced to change his ways. You’ll have to read the book to find out what happens. (And at the moment you can do that for free as Anything But Vanilla is on promotion at Amazon and Barnes&Noble.)

ANYTHING BUT VANILLA

One girl. Two guys. No Strings…

Leave your inhibitions and prepare to be wicked, because on Liddell Island only the ice-cream is vanilla.

Kara North is on the run. Fleeing from her controlling fiancé and a wedding she never wanted, she accepts the chance offer of refuge on wild, rocky Liddell Island, where she soon catches the eye of the island’s owner, erotic photographer Ric Liddell. Wickedly sexy by day and just plain wicked by night, Ric rules his domain like a feudal lord. He’s used to getting what he wants, without any commitment, and just when Kara thinks she has him hooked, he hides behind a cool, dispassionate mask.

But pleasure comes in more than one flavour when Zachary Blackwater, the charming ice-cream vendor also takes an interest, and wants more than just a tumble in the surf. Zach offers her warmth that she never felt from her ex, and soon it’s not just the ice cream that’s melting.

When Kara learns that the two men have been unlikely lovers for years, she becomes obsessed with the idea of a threesome. Zach is reluctant, until he sees the dynamic effect Kara has on Ric’s emotions. She might be the key to finally capturing Ric’s heart.

Soon Kara is wondering how she ever considered binding herself to just one man. She’s never had so much fun or felt so uninhibited, but just when everything seems so perfect, the man she left behind returns with some very old-fashioned ideas about rescuing her and taking her home to his own idea of wedded bliss.

Amazon.com | Amazon.co.uk | Mischief | All Romance Ebooks | Barnes & Noble

Excerpt:

The kiss was by far the dirtiest she’d ever shared. The taste of her body clung to his lips, while the scent of her arousal flooded the air. Although shirtless, Ric remained otherwise properly dressed. Kara reached for his belt buckle, only for him to grin and step back. Still the ridge of his erection showed clearly behind his fly.

‘I thought you wanted to know where those keys are.’

‘They’re not in your pants?’

‘No,’ he grinned. ‘But let’s see if you can find them before I get fully into yours.’ He led her over to the bureau, not even giving her a moment to straighten out her clothes and bent her over the polished surface so that her face lay just shy of the myriad of little drawers set into the top. ‘They’re definitely in one of those. Shall we see if you can find them before I make you come again?’

He already had a head start, for one hand immediately wedged between her thighs, where it confidently stroked against her still swollen clit. Kara gave a desperate whimper. She couldn’t concentrate while he did that. Nor did she really care to find the keys right now. She wasn’t about to sacrifice this for a face full of biting cold wind and a night in her car wondering what could have been.

Ric’s breath tickled her ear. So too did his hair. ‘Ready?’

‘No, wait. What does the winner get? You’re not exactly convincing me that I want these keys.’

‘Bedding rights. One time, wherever, whenever.’ His breath tickled as it whispered past her ear. ‘And I don’t make this offer every day. Go.’

Kara reached out and tugged open the first of the drawers. Her current position didn’t allow her to see inside, so she had to rely on touch — paperclips, another one of those LED torches he had so many of, but no keys. She yanked open the second drawer without closing the first, just as she heard the slid of his zipper. The crackle of a foil wrapper immediately followed.

Damn, she wanted to crane her head and look at him, in order to know what his cock was like. She liked visuals, though she was pretty sure he was going to feel damn nice. Ric stood so close behind that even if she did turn she wouldn’t have gained a glimpse of him. Hell, if she moved a millimetre they’d be as intimate as it was possible to get.

Kara’s mouth fell open in anticipation. The second drawer remained unexplored.

‘You’re not looking,’ he prompted, still stroking her clit. ‘That’s kind of cheating, you know.’ The blunt tip of his thumb found her entrance and dipped inside a way. It came out wet. ‘Anywhere, anytime, anyhow, no matter who’s watching.’

Maybe, just maybe, she ought to try a little harder to win. God knows what sort of kinky hell he’d subject her to. Only she was way too interested in feeling his cock to focus on finding keys. Kara feigned interest in the drawer contents, waving her hand about inside the little wooden trough, but her attention remained focused on the nudge of his cock up against her sheath.

‘You’re very wet,’ he observed. The smack of his lips followed the comment, and she knew he lifted his thumb in order to taste her.

Suddenly, it was all too much. Kara pushed back against him, unable to keep still with him poised so close any longer. Instead of sliding home, his cock pressed hard against her bottom instead, almost testing her untried hole.

‘Steady now. Eagerness will get you everywhere.’ He lined them up properly then thrust inside her in one big push that knocked all the air from her lungs. When he drew back, it released her cry.

Sex oughtn’t to be allowed to feel this good, especially not the first time with someone. It made her behave like a perfect slut. She jiggled against him, bracing her palms flat against the desk. He seemed to fill her up right to her hopelessly sensitized clit. They rocked together hard, so that their joy was punctuated by the thump of the desk hitting the wall.

Kara’s pants turned to squeals. She couldn’t hold it in. She couldn’t keep how good it felt locked inside of her.

Ric’s teeth grazed the side of neck and the top of her shoulder, which only encouraged her to push back harder. She strained against him, loving the sensation of her back brushing against his tight abs and his long hair tickling her skin.

They were both coasting close to the edge when he slowed everything down and turned each thrust into a crazily sweet figure of eight. Her cunt clenched around him, desiring the hardness of their previous pace, yet loving how this slower roll seemed to sensitize the whole of her body. For a while they danced in perfect harmony. The graze of Ric’s teeth became the sort of deep kiss that marked. He sucked her up into him, possessing her fully. Then just as her body had begun to sink into a liquid and languid state, he switched things up again.

Ric fucked like a perfect mad man, his blond hair whipping them both while he filled her with perfect precision. Her heart rate doubled and heat filled Kara’s cheeks. The buzz in her clit started out small, just a little fizz that grew until it encompassed the whole of her pussy. She drowned in its power, gasping for air. For the first time ever, her second climax was so much greater than the first. It rolled on and on, pulsing inside of her and making her muscles clench tight around the glory of his cock. Normally, if a lover managed to wring a second orgasm from her, it was quiet, paltry little tremor. This was huge. It crackled through her synapses and almost knocked her out.

Boneless and dazed Kara peeled herself up off the surface of the desk. ‘Wow!’ Even that monosyllable didn’t convey the magnificence of the act. She leaned back against Ric in order to seek his kiss. His arms wrapped tight around her as they supped upon one another’s breath. He stayed inside of her too, his cock rigidly hard. It took a moment for her realize that he hadn’t come, that despite the mind-blowing peak he’d propelled her to, he hadn’t found satisfaction of his own. No wonder he lapped up her kisses like a man dying of thirst.

*****

 Don’t forget to leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of Madelynne’s hot historical erotic novella, Capturing Cora.

About Madelynne Ellis:

Madelynne Ellis is a multi-published British author of erotic romance. Her novels and short stories have been published by a variety of houses both in the UK and US, and have been translated into German, Spanish and Norwegian. She is best known for her Regency set novels for pioneering British erotica publisher Black Lace, but also enjoys writing contemporary and paranormal settings. Her aim is to deliver scorching, character-driven stories that enchant, torment and don’t shy from darker aspects of life.

Madelynne lives in the UK with her partner of 20 years, their two adorable children and a chocoholic rabbit. When not writing she enjoys live role-playing, solving puzzles and hanging out online.

Madelynne loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her by email at madelynne at madelynne-ellis dot com or find her at one of these hang outs.

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Naughty Novelists News and Giving Creativity a Hand

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Naughty Novelists

For those of you who haven’t already heard me shouting it on Facebook or Twitter, yesterday’s Daily Express ran a lovely article called We’re the New Naughty Novelists, in which I got interviewed along with two very big hitters, Janine Ashbless and Primula Bond. I was chuffed to be in such talented company. The topic of the piece was our ordinary lives. Of course all of this is in the wake of the Fifty Shades phenomenon. The article is very positive and supportive and I don’t know about my two esteamed colleagues, but I had great fun when the make-up artist and photographer came to take some shots of me being ordinary.

However, just for the record, we aren’t actually NEW naughty novelists. We’ve all got track records, as it were. Granted I’m the newby in the midst of such lovely naughtiness, but even I have three novels, a novella, multiple short stories, and more of all to come. I think we might actually be the Experienced Naughty Novelists, but the publicity is great, the article was fun to do, and if you missed the print version with all the lovely piccies, here’s the link with the lovely Janine Ashbless multi-tasking as only a naughty novelist can.

More Masturbation Month Mischief

If you haven’t been celebrating National Masturbation Month, it’s not too late to start. If you try real hard, I’ll bet you can even make up for lost time. In keeping with the spirit of self love, I’ll be passing on tidbits and little self-love excerpts from my novels and short stories from now until the end of May, so here’s a little gem of information worthy of a good hand.

As a novelist, who writes erotic romance, I’m proud to be a frequent masturbator, and I’m always a bit surprised that anyone could be ashamed of such a powerful creative force.

The ancient Egyptians believed masturbation was a creative act in its own right. In the Heliopolis creation myth, the god Amen rises from the primeval ocean, Nun, and masturbates the divine son and daughter into existence, and they populate the world. Even if I look at the Judeo/Christian myth in the first two chapters of Genesis, where God speaks the world into existence, I am still looking at a solo act.

Eric Francis on Betty Dodson and Carlin Ross’s Sex Information Online site writes, ‘Masturbation is the most elemental form of sexuality, requiring only awareness and a body.

Awareness and a body. Masturbating the world into existence. It happens all the time. At the risk of offering too much information, my understanding of sex, my deepest understanding of my own sexuality, comes from awareness and my own body. That’s what I have to work with. My understanding of writing, my deepest understanding of the creative forces in me also comes from awareness and my own self.

I’m astounded that in a world where solitude and the meditative tradition is a part of almost every religious discipline, we shy away from the very concepts that could have well given birth to it, awareness and Body. Can there really even BE awareness without a body? And how can we possibly understand the boundaries and the limits of either without the two rubbing up against each other. Our act of one-ness, our proto-sexuality, as Eric Francis calls it, I suggest is by its boundary-exploring nature, also our proto-creativity.

****

And now, here’s a very nasty,  not-for-the-delicate-flowers, Self Love Excerpt from my naughty novella, Surrogates. (Heavy breathing is allowed)

Excerpt:

‘You were with her, weren’t you? You were with your wife,’ she said reaching a gloved hand to deposit a handful of weeds in the trug next to her, an act which made the skirt ride up even further, an act which made him breathless.

‘What? No! I wasn’t. I promise. I had a meeting with my accountant that ran long. I swear it, Francie, darling. I haven’t seen Bel since I got home. Besides she’s staying over at her sisters this evening. They’re having a girl’s night out. Sweetheart, you know if I were with her, I’d tell you. Haven’t I always been above board about what goes on between Bel and me?’

She knew he had. Not that there was much to tell, but on the odd occasion when Bel had had too much wine with dinner and demanded he do his husbandly duty, or when she was feeling morose about her advancing years, all thirty-four of them, and needed to be shown she was still sexy, he never lied about it. It didn’t matter what sex acts he’d had to perform to please his wife, when Francie asked for details, he gave them. A part of him hated that she always asked. Surly she knew it would be easier if she didn’t know, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. And he didn’t hold back anything, even though he was always careful to remind her that it was thinking about her that made him come when he did his duty where Bel was concerned.

And all the while he told Francie what he’d done to Bel, told her details that made him blush, details that made his cock stretch and arch towards her, she listen while her cunt got slick and fat. Even as those details made her angry and unhappy, she asked for them. And while he told her, she played with herself, fingers darting furiously in and out between her heavy slippery folds, hips shifting and grinding as she asked him in clipped breathless words for more details. What did Bel’s pussy look like? How did she smell? Could he taste the wine she’d drank or the spices from Cook’s currey when he ate her out? How hard did her nipples get? Did she talk dirty when he pushed into her? Jesus, having sex with Bel, even though he knew it hurt Francie, was almost worth it to watch the way Francie took the pain, twisted it, turned it, reshaped it and came on it, came in lovely gushing female squirts at what she had made of it in her filthy little head.

Of course she didn’t like it that someone else got his cock while she only got to watch him wank. He didn’t like it either, but there was nothing for it at the moment. As much as he wanted Francie, as much as he dreamed of riding her raw, he was still married to Bel, and he would stay faithful until he got the balls to ask for a divorce. No matter how badly he wanted Francie, he could never behave towards Bel the way his father had towards his mother.

So why was he such a coward? People got divorced every day. Lots of people. Hell he knew people who had already been married and divorced multiple times. It was a simple thing to ask for a divorce these days. And yet, here he was like a damned adolescence begging for a peek under a girl’s skirt. ‘Please, darling, he said. ‘I don’t have a lot of time, and I want to spend what I do have with you.’

He saw the sigh shiver up through her body, and he knew he’d been forgiven. She raised on her knees enough to take off the gloves she wore, then with one hand she eased the skirt up over her hips and wriggled slightly to open her legs a little wider on the mat where she knelt.

He pressed his thumb to the head of his cock. The urge to come at the sight of her all engorged and open was nearly overwhelming. The pearlescent sheen on the inside of her pouting labia told him he wasn’t the only one who needed to come. As she arched her back downward and forced her bottom even higher, her clit came into view looking like a heavy swollen marble at the apex of her pussy. ‘Oh, Francie –’ he breathed ‘– touch it for me.’

We’re The New Naughty Novelists

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The Daily ExpressKD Grace, 50, lives in Surrey with her husband Raymond, 51, a chemical engineer. They don’t have any children. Her latest novella Surrogates is available on Amazon and www.mischief.com.

Erotic writing is like any other. You simply do your research and use your imagination. Just because a story features a threesome or a woman having an affair with her gardener doesn’t mean that’s what I’m up to myself. There’s nothing less glamorous than my job writing erotica. I sit at the dining table in my trainers and tracksuit with not a pair of stockings in sight.

My husband loves what I do and vetoes my male characters to make sure I get the tone right. Even before I did this for a job we couldn’t have spent more time thinking about sex than we already do. Yet being an erotic author has made me aware that we’re the exception and that lots of people don’t make sex a priority in their relationships.

Although I don’t write about my own experiences I do pay homage in my novels to my love of sex outdoors – the fear of being caught makes it far more exciting. Being outside is far more atmospheric than posh hotels or bedrooms.

Read the entire article at Express.co.uk.

Keziah Hill Talks About Writing in Two Genres and the Stories Waiting in the Wings

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I’d like to welcome a special guest from wintery Downunder.  The fabulously versatile Keziah Hill not only writes erotica and crime but is also a keen gardener. Truly a woman after my own heart! Welcome to sunny (ish) England, Keziah! It’s a pleasure to have you on my site!

Thanks for having me on your blog KD.

While you’re probably reveling in the spring glory of the merry month of May, down here it’s autumn which also happens to be my favorite time of year. I live in a cool climate part of Australia, about 100ks west of Sydney in the Blue Mountains so as I write there is frost on the ground and it’s 2C. But the sun is out and it’s turning into a glorious day.

This morning, while snuggling into my warm bed, I started to concoct lists in my head about all the writing projects I have to finish. That got me into a mild panic and out of bed. The big one is my crime novel which I want to pitch to a couple of editors at the annual Romance Writers of Australia conference in August. I’ve been working on it for a couple of years and it’s nearly there. Giving myself a deadline will make me work harder!

Also on the list of things to finish are edits for a couple erotic novellas that I’ve just got the publishing rights back to, so they’ll be appearing on Amazon and other online book sellers soon.

But nagging away at the back of my mind are all the stories waiting in the wings. Characters who want their day in the sun and stories that keep revealing their twists and turns at strange moments (like at three o’clock in the morning). I have folders created on my computer with odd notes, paragraphs of dialogue and the beginning of character sketches of a whole range of stories.  I have to resist the siren call of a new story so I can finish what I’m working on.

It’s strange writing in two genres – erotica (including erotic romance) and crime. I thought I’d given up writing erotica and just wanted to concentrate on crime and suspense, but my muse (or whatever you want to call it) had other ideas. So after quite a break, I’m back writing steamy sex, which I’m thoroughly enjoying. I’d forgotten how freeing writing erotica is. It’s a larger than life genre full of possibilities.

My latest story, Chains of Revenge is in an alternate, semi-fantasy world containing a warrior who was once a sex slave and princess who once owned him. Their power struggle was a lot of fun to write. A sequel is one of the stories that keeps nagging at me. That, and a story about two cultures with different and conflicting moral codes about sex and how the hero and heroine negotiate their way through to their satisfying ending; and another story about a minister of religion and a sex shop owner. Mmm. There does seem to be a bit of a theme here.

A part from getting all these words on the page, my garden also calls to me, particularly at this time of year when roses need to be transplanted and trees pruned. But I’m very fortunate to have some gorgeous critters in my garden including this crimson rosella.

Here is an excerpt from Chains of Revenge.

Lissa, Princess of Horvald, waited for Death. She stood, still and silent in the dank chill of the Great Hall, determined to meet her fate without cowering in fear. But fear hovered, beating against her mind like moth wings, relentless and inescapable.

Her father, the King of Horvald was gone, swallowed up in the vicious cycle of victory and defeat. Now there was no protection for her, no way of avoiding the steady creep of defeat as it seeped through the walls and curled under the doors, like a foul, poisoned miasma.

He wanted her, this Warlord called Death.

He’d killed her father and now demanded she appear before him to beg for mercy.

But she would not beg. Nor would she come at his call, like a whipped dog. If that meant her life was forfeit, then so be it.

A crash in the outer hall momentarily pierced her defiance, sending a cold finger of terror up her spine. She had no illusions about how this Warlord would use then kill her, but couldn’t stop dark, skittering panic flood her body when she realized his touch, full of hatred and violence, would be the last touch from a man she would ever feel.

No sweet strokes or murmured endearments. So different to the last time she’d lain with a man, long ago now. Lissa closed her eyes and called up the image of brown, strong muscled arms and calloused hands that had held and soothed her, all the time whispering enchanting words of beauty and love. A yearning twisted deep inside her, making her gasp with pain. If only she could see him again, just one more time before she died.  She’d been such an empty headed fool all those years ago, thinking she was so powerful she could demand a slave to service her. That slave turned her life upside down and transformed her world. When disaster struck and her people needed her, because of him, she was ready to answer their call.

Ah, Devadas, my love. I’ll join you soon.

A piercing wail, suddenly cut off, ripped through the air. Death drew near. She glanced out the window and watched the distant wheat fields, the source of Horvald’s wealth, soon to be torched. Why hadn’t the burning commenced? All her work, gone. Would Devadas be pleased? Her slave in chains, the man she in the end, had loved with such hopeless desperation.

Another end loomed. Lissa heard more crashes and shouting, then the heavy thump of footsteps in the corridor. She continued to stand motionless in a shaft of late winter sun, and waited.

Not for long. The door slammed open and with it, the full realization of her father’s treachery.

No! Goddess above, no! All those wasted years!

Her past stood before her in mockery.

Tall, broad and forbidding, his body covered in leather and battered amour, Death stood in the doorway like the conqueror he was.

Chained no longer.

Chains of Revenge is available from Smashwords and Amazon.

About Keziah Hill

After quite a few years working in the criminal justice system, I decided a tree change was needed so decamped to the Blue Mountains, west of Sydney Australia. Amid a garden full of flowering blossoms, roses and the odd marauding possum, I write steamy love stories where my characters get their happily ever after or at least their happy for now. You can follow me on Facebook and on Twitter. I also have an occasional photographic blog (not mine – other people’s) at The View From Here. I’m a voracious reader as well as writer so you can also see what I read at Goodreads. Several of my short stories can be read at the Erotica Readers and Writers Association.