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Slaves to Desire by Eli Gilić (@GilicEli), published by Sinful Press (@SinfulPress)—Just 99c/p Throughout October!

Slaves to Desire by Eli Gilić is a unique, beautifully written erotic short story collection that deftly weaves fact and fiction. Originally published in Serbian, Sinful Press is over the moon to present the English language version of this amazing collection in both digital and print. To celebrate, we are making the ebook version available for just 99p/99c throughout October.

Blurb:

Charles Baudelaire, Rasputin, Anna Karenina, Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet and Ophelia, Fyodor Dostoevsky, George Sand, Frederic Chopin, Vincent Van Gogh, Antonin Artaud, Maria Izquierdo, James Joyce, Federico Garcia Lorka, Salvador Dali.

Can Rasputin find redemption through the sins of others? What awaits Anna Karenina on the other side? Does passion still flow through the veins of the lovers from Verona? Can Hamlet and Ophelia escape their fate? Is Van Gogh’s loneliness a blessing or a curse? And can Dali dispel Lorca’s fear.

Eli Gilić deftly weaves fact and fiction to bring some of the world’s great writers, literary characters, artists and composers to life as they reach the heights of passion and the depths of despair in this mesmerising erotic short story collection.

Sales links:

Amazon

Apple iBooks

Google Play

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Barnes and Noble

*****

Excerpt from ‘Lovers in the Land of Peyote’ (María Izquierdo and Antonin Artaud), Slaves to Desire:

They brought him half-dead on a donkey, took him to his room, laid his feverish body on the bed and left me alone with him. I was terror-stricken as I listened to his frantic screams and incoherent ravings about virgins and donkeys. I wiped his burning forehead for hours and tried to reach him. He writhed, flailed his arms and legs, and I had to avoid blows carefully.

My strength was dissolving when Antonin suddenly stilled. I feared the worst, but he opened his eyes. Delirium had passed. His eyes were bright and curious. Such relief overcame me that I kissed him without thinking. I poured all the love that was burning in my heart into that kiss. I realised what I had done only when he returned my kiss. But there was no reason for anxiety because Antonin was overcome by desire just like me. He kissed me feverishly, as if to compensate for all the months of restraint. A surge of happiness flooded me. I quickly took off my robe and pulled Antonin’s pants down his legs.

Antonin just looked at me with mild disbelief. Fearing that he would pull away and say that we shouldn’t, I quickly settled above him before he had a chance to object. I had to feel him at least once. I think my heart would have broken if I didn’t manoeuvre him into me.

I looked him in the eye as I slowly descended on his hard manhood, choking from inexplicable joy. It seemed like I was becoming whole because he was filling me. I lacked something essential before Antonin entered my life just as my body had missed something vital before I felt him inside me. When I came down completely, I stilled to interpret his look. But I saw nothing except great love and total abandonment. As if to encourage me, Antonin grabbed me by the hips and began lifting and lowering me. I started moving and together we found the rhythm of lovers. Our bodies moved as if of their own will, as if saying something to each other with those feverish movements. Movements as old as the world, yet completely new, full of mysterious meaning known only to us. Faster, feverishly, marvellously coordinated as if our bodies had already done that in another world and time and we were only repeating what was carved in our hearts and bodies.

Antonin was moaning uncontrollably while rapidly raising his pelvis to meet my frenzied descents. Strangled sounds were escaping my throat, my insides were tightening from pleasure. The pressure was becoming unbearable, almost agonising. And then a miraculous burst, spasms that brought immense delight. The relief was so strong that I collapsed on him. Antonin hugged me tightly and jerked a few more times before freezing and crying out.

I sat up and showered his face with kisses, crying and laughing at the same time, mad from the rush of giddy joy.

*****

Author Bio:

Eli Gilić is a writer and translator from Serbia who has spent much of her career translating best-selling novels for the Serbian market. She has also penned an erotic cookbook called Eat, Tease and Please.

Eli lives near a forest in Serbia with her three four-legged friends, and she spends her free time growing organic food, climbing mountains and jumping from waterfalls.

Slaves to Desire is her first short story collection, and it was originally published by Laguna, the biggest publisher in Serbia, before being translated into English for Sinful Press.

Sale blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

 

New Release: Dancing with Myself: Stories of Self-Love Erotica

 

 

Edited by Jillian Boyd

Nine sizzling, sexy stories of self-love and self-discovery, edited by (and with a story from) Jillian Boyd, featuring Dena Hankins, T.C. Mill, Jordan Monroe, Leandra Vane, LN Bey, Jones, Hollis Queens and Rachel Woe.

 

In this sensually spellbinding collection, nine authors explore just a couple of the ways one can get themselves off – stories that don’t just hone in on the how, but explore the why, and the “oh… oh my” Dancing with Myself delves into the heads and between the sheets of a long-distance submissive and her dominant, a cam girl reminiscing, an artist entranced with her unusual subjects and many more.

 

Dancing with Myself Buy Links Here: 

books2read.com/dancing

 

 

Table of contents

Obey – Dena Hankins

The pose didn’t strain her body. It just made her feel so damn vulnerable. Maddie wished she’d thought this through more. The pictures she’d studied hadn’t given her a clue how the poses would make her feel.

 

The Solution – TC Mill

I wondered if Dom had ever worried about me, all the nights I’d been out late. Maybe he’d been glad to have his space, just as I was glad to have mine on those evenings he claimed to have meetings or buddies waiting for him at some bar. Once I figured out where he’d really been going, I claimed more than space. I took pleasure, I took control. That was what it felt like at the time, at least.

 

Investigation – Jordan Monroe

As Tara answered him, she sat still with her hands in her lap. She was struck by the intimacy of this interview. They were perfect strangers, and yet he was asking her questions that would not be asked on a date. It was rather revealing, and she was surprised that she found herself enjoying the process.

 

5A – Jillian Boyd

It took me a moment to adjust to the sudden flash of brightness in the lobby, the motion lights having switched themselves on after I opened the main doorway to my block of flats. But after I’d blinked my eyes back to normal, I became very, very aware of the little pink sticky note stuck to my mailbox. Pink note, red ink, message that left me with a red-hot, full body blush in a matter of seconds.

 

Half the Story – Leandra Vane

He held himself firm and it felt like returning home. The weight of his world vanished and he could just be himself. Desire was Nick’s biggest secret and he always kept it on lock down.

Nick started pumping himself into his fist with sure, steady strokes. He imagined Lauren was on top of him, straddling him on the chair, her jeans tight over her thighs and her pussy kept from him by a thin but unfortunate layer of denim. That didn’t stop her from grinding into him and shoving her tits in his face. They bounced to the rhythm Nick was stroking himself, faster and faster. He looked down the front of her shirt, his imagination straining to catch a glimpse of the darkened areolas around her pebbled nipples. But the tiny tank top held everything in despite Nick’s most desperate yearnings.

 

Girl B – LN Bey

All week she woke up picturing herself as the new girl, kneeling beside Angie, naked and awaiting Trey’s orders as he towered above them. Lying in bed on her back, her fingers would grasp her own hips as she lay there; begin to edge inward.

No.

She ran, farther and faster each day, and did nothing in the shower but scrub the grime and sweat from her skin.

 

Fawna – Jones

In the dreams, there are so many more flowers. Hundreds of them all over her. Their green touch creeping up her body and wrapping around her legs, holding her down so that the flowers can explore her more deeply, rub themselves against her sex and past her lips, petals folding neatly over her clit. Orchids, like small mirrors held up to her open vulva, embrace her. Clots of frothing white snapdragon blossoms press against her like a thousand little mouths over her ass and hips, and breasts. Tight white knots of lilies slid against her cunt, almost penetrating, leaving their dust on her thighs and lips.

And now here they are, alive, in her hands, under her fingers.

 

Reconnection – Hollis Queens

Laura Linx’s email is waiting for her when she’s finished with the dicks. They had met on a community chat board when Laura had first gotten into the business. Bleu had taken the new member under her wing and taught her how to deal with rude customers, how to check token statistics to see who was worth spending energy on and even how to set up her camming business as an LLC. In a way, Bleu still does social work. Only instead of making a crap salary, she’s pulling over five times what the state job had offered her after she graduated. She tries to share this information with as many women as she can, but not all of them listen. Some are only in it for the quick cash. Some can’t take the grueling schedule, lack of days off and the consistent rudeness which wears cam girls down over time. The online community of cammers acts as a safe haven, protection again the dangers and loneliness that come with participating in such exposed yet reclusive work.

 

Unconventional Methods – Rachel Woe

Figs. Oysters. Chili peppers. Of all the alleged aphrodisiacs, nothing makes me want to slide my hand between my thighs more than good old-fashioned anticipation.

 

I check the clock again. 10:55 pm, the equivalent of 3:55 am London-time. Daniel’s time. He likes to joke that he’s Merry Olde England, and I’m new—as in New England. American. Peanut butter and Twinkies to his Marmite and spotted dick.

 

Being a food blogger has a way of seeping into other corners of my life. To be fair, I am hungry. Ravenous, in fact. But not for cakes or condiments. My body reacts to the ping of the chat notification like a dog to a dinner bell. My mouth literally waters. I listen for the glide of my mother’s legs across the sheets in the next room, the restless flipping of covers. The prolonged silence tells me she’s fallen into the stupor offered by her sleeping pills. I plant myself in front of my laptop, wireless earbuds firmly in place.

 

There’s only one word in the chat box: Ready?

 

Arousal blooms low in my belly, soft petals unfurling. I type, Yes, Sir, and hit enter.

 

About Jillian Boyd

Jillian Boyd is a writer and anthology editor, based in London. She has previously edited anthologies about the Roaring Twenties, spies and oral sex, which are just some of her many interests in life.

 

 

 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/37854540-dancing-with-myself

 

Out Now—United in Love, a Charity Anthology Edited by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #charity #anthology #britishredcross

United in LoveBlurb:

The world could use a lot more love, which is why being united in love is the theme of this short story collection. Each of the characters are dealing with horrific and heartbreaking situations—loss, grief, war, divorce, dementia, disputes over land and more, but what they all have in common is that, with the help of love, of unity, they come through. It may not be all happily-ever-after—since life just doesn’t work that way—but positivity and solidarity shine through in each of the tales and will warm your heart.

So enjoy these stories of unexpected companionship, old lovers reuniting, second chances and creative problem-solving, with the knowledge that the proceeds from your purchase will also have a deeply positive effect—with every penny going to the British Red Cross’s UK Solidarity Fund.

Featuring stories from Gina Wynn, Lily Harlem, Rebecca Chase, Rosie Jamieson, Skye MacKinnon, M H Heyer, Alyssa Drake, Arizona Tape and Lucy Felthouse.

Available from:

Amazon (universal link): http://mybook.to/unitedinlove

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2wq8dqe

iBooks: http://apple.co/2hdoqEP

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2yjSoyG

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/2hbrLrN

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36240214-united-in-love

*****

Excerpt from What’s Past is Present by Gina Wynn

Connie always believed she’d know it was summer when the rain got warmer. And that meant summer was today.

She ran along the pavement, trying to dodge the drops as they fell in big splats on her bare arms like sloppy kisses, hunching as she attempted to shield the package of fish and chips she carried. The aroma of the hot food and warm paper tickled her nose, and she could almost taste the contents. Declan would be lucky if she arrived back with anything more than soggy, empty wrappings at this rate.

Picking up her pace as the smell of rain-splashed tarmac filled the air, she hurried the rest of the way back to the house. His house. She shook her head. It would take a while to see the house as anything but Mr Pearce’s place—an adjustment it felt like she’d only just made. Now, it was Dec’s. Just Dec’s. In her head, it’d only just stopped being his place where he lived with his dad. Glancing at the windows in hopes of glimpsing him inside as she walked past had been a habit for a very long time.

When her doorbell had rung the previous night, she hadn’t expected to find a very crumpled, travel-weary Dec in the dingy entryway to her bedsit. In fact, he was probably the last person she hoped to ever find gracing the stoop of what she not-quite-laughingly referred to as her hovel.

She’d barely had chance to move, or slam the door in his definitely unwelcome face, before he wrapped his arms around her, folding her into a perfect bear hug of long-ago familiarity. Caught off-guard and unprepared to see him, she rested her cheek against the soft brushed cotton of his shirt, listening to his heartbeat, as his fingers splayed over her cheek, and she pretended not to notice the rough gasps of air he drew or the silent tears landing in her hair. Her chest hollowed, her heart breaking both for him and over him anew, and a lone teardrop of her own slid noiselessly down her nose.

Of course, she’d promised to help him today because she could never deny him anything, even though she’d spent the past five years regretting him. Getting over him. The bastard. She’d never stopped loving him.

Five years had crept by in a lazy blink of his beautiful brown eyes. And now, in the place where she’d spent so many of her stolen days and illicit nights, she could almost imagine the clocks had rolled back and he’d never left. She’d certainly wished for it enough times.

Short of pressing the doorbell with her nose she had no way to attract his attention, so she pushed on the door handle with her elbow and shouldered her way through the unlocked door into the narrow hall. The same worn carpet, lending a musty smell to the house these days, ran straight ahead to the kitchen and up the stairs. She walked towards the kitchen, ignoring the grime of a house where the owner hadn’t cared as much for the fabric of the building over the years as he did the family members within it. Framed portraits and holiday snapshots of Dec and his dad lined the walls, but she brushed past each of them. She could describe the position and content of each—perhaps accurately pinpoint the date of a few if she appeared on Mastermind with ‘The early life of Declan Pearce’ as her specialist subject.

But as she turned to push through the door into the next room, she caught sight of some new pictures and swallowed down a mixture of envy and bitterness at the juxtaposition of Declan’s life before and after—the part where he’d moved on without her. Even after Dec left, his dad must have continued to hang pictures of him because there he was, framed with as much care as anything that gone before.

Dec in an office of black leather and gleaming chrome—a vista of New York spread like a map through the huge picture window behind him; Dec beside an aeroplane bearing his name—sunglasses on, wide grin in place, and a suit that must have been expensive but one he wore without effort and made it look good.

Dec behind a podium.

Dec in an apartment so swish she’d have believed someone had Photoshopped him into it if she didn’t know better.

Dec… Dec… Dec. Just him.

Her gaze skimmed the remainder of the newest frames, and her thoughts stalled. She leant closer. No. They weren’t photographs. They were pictures that had been cut with great care from glossy magazines and newspaper articles, as if someone was reduced to simply scrapbooking a loved one’s life rather than being part of it.

Regret flashed through her. It didn’t show the future—the life together— she and Dec had planned in all those late nights that somehow turned into seeing the dawn. If she was honest, it didn’t show any sort of life she’d ever imagined for anyone she knew, let alone someone she loved. And especially not for Dec. She’d always believed they were the same type of person. But maybe not now she could see his life through someone else’s eyes.

She shrugged, trying to throw off her sudden melancholy. The fish and chips wouldn’t eat themselves.

Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

 

The Man in the Mask – A Guest Post by Lady Divine (@FrancescaHartz @sinfulpress)

Everyone wears a mask of one kind or another.

In romance novels, masks tend to be elaborate, lavishly decorated things, hiding the identity of the mysterious lover from the (more often than not) naïve hero/heroine.

But, in real life, our masks tend to be far less erotic … and much more complicated.

The average human being doesn’t only wear one. They become layered, one over the other. We switch between them throughout the day, showing the face we need for a given situation – parent, spouse, sibling, employee, neighbor. On occasion, one will fall away when we don’t need it anymore, but we tend to add more as time goes on, piling them up until it sometimes becomes difficult to remember who we were to begin with.

Masks can take us away from ourselves.

But sometimes they show who we really are.

And the effect is broad. In the search to find ourselves, it may not even be our own mask, but someone else’s mask, that reveals the truth about us.

There are so many different kinds of masks. In my life, I’ve worn many – masks of compassion, nurturing, confidence, protection. In my work as a professional Dominant, I’ve seen hundreds more – men and women peeling away who they have to be in their vanilla lives and wearing, for my eyes only, the masks they show no one.

This concept of masks has always fascinated me – the idea of becoming more yourself by changing what people see, either literally or symbolically. In my story for Sinful Press’s new anthology Sinful Pleasures, “The Man in the Mask”, I decided to combine both the mask of a man longing to remember who he was with the elaborate mask of the romantic lover. At his birthday party, with every person he knows in attendance, Miguel decides to turn back the clock on his life by doing the one thing that most people would find unthinkable – cheat on his husband with a beautifully submissive masked stranger.

But that’s what we see on the surface. Beneath their masks, Miguel and his anonymous lover aren’t necessarily who they appear to be.

You can find out more about this story, and many of my other writings, by following me on Tumblr – https://lady–divine.tumblr.com (or https://lady-divine-writes.tumblr.com for a more safe for work version ;D). You can also find me on Twitter @FrancescaHartz, or on Instagram at ladydivine91 as I embark on my latest adventure, which is as far from professional Dominant as I could possibly get – fledgling freestyle skater 😉

Stay safe, stay sane, stay consensual – but remember to play dirty as often as you can 😉

Francesca Hartz

a.k.a. Lady Divine

*****

Excerpt from “The Man in the Mask”

Sinful Pleasures

Shhh. We have to do this quick,” Miguel says, reaching around the body of the man standing in front of him to undo the buttons of his shirt. “My husband is going to come looking for me soon.”

“O-okay,” the man acquiesces. “Well, then, do you think I can at least look at you while we…?”

Miguel stops unbuttoning and clamps a hand over the man’s mouth before he can say another word.

“No talking!” he snaps. “I don’t know you, you don’t know me, and it’s going to stay that way. Got it?”

“Is that what you want?” the man asks in a softer voice, hoping Miguel won’t object.

“What if it is?” Miguel replies, his accompanying chuckle cruel. He’s indifferent to the man’s feelings because tonight, he’s not a man. He’s a puppet. A toy. An instrument for Miguel’s use…for his pleasure. “It’s what you must want, too, yes? Otherwise, why do you come here wearing that mask?”

The half-mask the man has on is an odd sort of accessory. It’s lavishly decorated, almost gaudily so—blood red around the eyes and trimmed in gold sequins, swirling filigree designs, and accented in gold dust and rubies—a dramatic shield obscuring a face of pale skin, meticulously styled brown hair, and stunning green eyes.

“Because I was t-told…” The man stutters to a stop when Miguel’s fingers brush his skin, playing through the hairs on his chest. He begins again, wishing he had taken one last shot of the whiskey they’d been serving downstairs. It might have strengthened his voice. “I was told that if I wore it, I would meet the man of my dreams.”

“So, you admit to coming here of your own free will?” Miguel asks. Consent is essential to him. Without it, he’ll dismiss this man now, no exceptions.

It would be a shame not to get the chance to have him, but there are others willing to take his place.

“Yes,” the man replies.

“Say it,” Miguel demands. “Word for word. Say you are here of your own free will.”

“I am here of my own free will.”

“Even though you know what I might do to you?” Miguel has to wonder if this man truly knows anything about his unconventional tastes, his unusual cravings. “Even though you know what a night with me might entail?”

“Yes,” the man answers without hesitation. “I know, and I consent.”

*****

Sinful PleasuresBlurb

Sinful Press welcomes you to lose yourself in Sinful Pleasures.

Join us as we weave our way from mainstream erotic romance to surreal sex-filled dreamscapes and everything in between, created by some of the best new and established voices in the erotica genre.

Janine Ashbless, Ella Scandal, Sonni de Soto, Jo Henny Wolf, Lily Harlem, Lady Divine, Gail Williams, Samantha MacLeod, Tony Fyler, Ellie Barker, Lisa McCarthy

Buy links

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Kobo

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iTunes

Support your small publisher and buy the paperback direct

*****

Author Bio

Lady Divine is a professional Dominatrix living and working in Southern California, and that’s where most of her writing inspiration comes from. She is also a wife and a mother, a classical musician, a photographer, and a greco roman wrestler, as well as an LGBTQIA+ advocate. Lady Divine can be found gracing the internet at www.lady–divine.tumblr.com

 

Summer Seduction Anthology Blog Tour and Giveaway

 

Summer of Seduction

An Anthology

By Candi Fox, Louisa Bacio, Bobbi Romans, Monica Corwin, Audra Hart, Shakir Rashaan, AM Halford, Sheri Velarde, Izzy Szyn

 

These fabulous authors are offering wonderful giveaways. There are Amazon Gift Cert’s, ebooks, and a print book of Summer of Seduction up for Grabs. Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. You may increase your chances of wining by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here.

 

About the Book:

“Avoid the burn, but savor the heat of the season! Kick back in the shade with your copy of Nine Hot Authors – Nine Sexy Tales of Summer Sizzle!

 

 

“Sugar’s Salvation” by Candi Fox

☆。☆。☆ 。☆。☆

“Dry Heat” by Louisa Bacio

☆。☆。☆ 。☆。☆

“A Summer Tryst” by Bobbi Romans

☆。☆。☆ 。☆。☆

Windows and Doors By Monica Corwin

☆。☆。☆ 。☆。☆

“Primal Heat” by Audra Hart

☆。☆。☆ 。☆。☆

“GFE Interrupted” by Shakir Rashaan

☆。☆。☆ 。☆。☆

“Summer Fever in a Tent” by A.M. Halford

☆。☆。☆ 。☆。☆

“Mikhail’s American Adventure” by Sheri Velarde

☆。☆。☆ 。☆。☆

“Kassie’s Seduction” by Izzy Szyn

 

 

 

Featuring an exotic array of genres to tempt even the pickiest of palates! Come, join the erotic adventure of “A Summer of Seduction”

 

Amazon Buy Link

 

 

BLURB:

In Palm Springs for a conference, James expects little more than long meetings, hot days and lonely nights. He’s prepared to get through the boredom one day at a time—right up until the moment he runs into Sofia, a former flame he’s never been able to forget.

Hot to rekindle the physical side of their relationship and enthusiastically okay with some no-strings-attached sex, Sofia joins James during his off time—in his hotel room, between meetings, for sexy dinners and even on the sky tram.

With every illicit whisper and each delicious encounter hotter than the last, James finds himself wishing this business trip would never end.

 

Excerpt:

“What about you? If I remember correctly, you didn’t like the heat much. Here with friends?” She was suddenly close and played with the hem of his shirt, her index finger slipping beneath the material and sliding across his bare, flat stomach. He sucked it in, but didn’t move away. Instead, he took a step even closer.

“No friends. No girlfriend. I’m here all by myself. It’s a work conference.”

“Shame.” She met his eyes, lingering on the visual connection. “Well, if you get lonely here’s my card with my number,” she paused. “I may be able to help you out.”

She pushed the card into his front pocket, brushing her fingertips against his bulge, and this time he jumped backward. The combination of her words and actions made him think “booty call,” but she couldn’t mean that, could she? She’d dumped him for keeping it superficial.

With a slight smile, Sofia sashayed away. Tongue-tied, he didn’t say anything. The clerk cleared his throat, and slid the room key across the counter. “If you don’t tap that, man, can I have her number?”

James couldn’t be absolutely sure, but he thought he might have growled at the guy.

 

 

About Louisa Bacio:

 

A Southern California native, Louisa Bacio can’t imagine living far away from the ocean. The multi-published author of erotic romance enjoys writing within all realms – from short stories to full-length novels.

Bacio shares her household with a supportive husband, two daughters growing “too fast,” and a multitude pet craziness: Two dogs, five fish tanks, an aviary, hamsters, rabbits, guinea pigs and geckos. In her other life, she teaches college classes in English, journalism and popular culture.

 

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