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Grace Lowrie Launches IN YOUR SILENCE with a Blog Tour

 

 

In Your Silence Blurb:

Still reeling from a sudden and very one-sided break-up, Liam throws himself into his work and gets commissioned to restore the neglected grounds of a mansion, Wildham Hall, for its owner Gregory Sinclair.

It is there that Liam meets Melody, who is mute.

Liam has always suppressed the darkest side of himself, but as his clandestine liaison with Melody develops, she tests him and his deepest desires are dragged to the surface.

 

 

In Your Silence Excerpt:

‘Do you trust me?’ his voice was unusually husky.

I nodded and he moved his hands up beneath my dress to my hips, braced himself, leaned forwards, and placed a soft kiss on the birthmark on the inside of my thigh. The seemingly innocuous gesture was as welcome as it was unexpected, giving me goosebumps, while his eyes roamed across my face assessing my reaction. Encouraged by whatever he saw there he proceeded to press a long, lingering kiss to the damp cotton between my thighs and my whole body thrilled and ached with delight. Liam began to ease my knickers down and I shifted up off my bottom to make it easier for him. He sat back on his heels to gently unhook them from my feet and I flushed with heat as he gazed at me there; my most intimate parts spread open and exposed. But the sober expression on his face and the hungry look in his eyes made my insides clench with excitement.

Rising back up onto his knees, he gripped my hips and brought his face in towards me, and I closed my eyes. Pressing his mouth to my sensitive flesh he began to tease me with his tongue and I was overwhelmed by a rush of emotion. Was there ever a sensation naughtier or more heavenly? Trembling all over and fighting for breath, I clutched at his hair, near-delirious, as he quickly worked me up to a dizzying peak; my pelvis flexing back and forth with a drive of its own and my muscles tensing all over in anticipation.

Because this time I understood what was happening to me; I’d longed for another orgasm for weeks. My sheer desperation left no room for embarrassment as I greedily rubbed against him…

And then he made a sound; a low moan similar to the noise he made when enjoying good food, and the vibration tipped me over the edge into that incredible shattering sensation I so craved; my body shuddering in great waves from head to toe; my lungs gasping; my blood pounding in my ears and the roof of my mouth.

 

 

 

Buy In Your Silence Here:

Ebook: https://amzn.to/2GHVRNU

Paperback: https://amzn.to/2UDqKqs

 

 

 

About Grace

With a background in art, prop-making and garden design, Grace has always been
creative – but she is a romantic at heart and writing was, and is, her first love. An avid reader of fiction she prefers coffee and a sinister undercurrent over tea and chick lit, and has a soft spot for grumpy ginger tomcats.

When not making prop costumes or hanging out with her favourite nephews, she continues to write women’s fiction and romance novels from her Hertfordshire home.

 

Find Grace Here:

Blog: www.gracelowrie.com/blog

Facebook: www.facebook.com/GraceLowrieWriter

Twitter: www.twitter.com/gracelowrie1

Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/grace_lowrie

Instagram: www.instagram.com/grace_lowrie/

 

Success or Love of Writing? by Akinyi Prinzessin von K’Orinda-Yimbo (A P von K’Ory)

I often get asked to reveal to the source of my achievements, even my “success” in writing. This is of course very flattering and good for my scribe’s ego. But I’m just as unsure of where I am or going to, same as the next writer. I don’t really see myself as such a success, but I’ve succeeded in improving my writing and finding my “Voice”. I believe we writers always need to have some reassurance or at least another person we can turn to as a sounding board to either confirm or dispel our insecurities about ourselves and our work.

My “weakness” is my British English, my mother tongue. But that does not say I wouldn’t put my le Carré aside when I grab a good Grisham or Dan Brown. Romance fascinate me, followed by the psychological thriller and Grip Lit genres. Therefore my addiction to writing romance with thriller elements worked in them, and sex scenes involving psychological games.

My own romance books involve interracial love relationships. The Bound to Tradition trilogy, which won me the Writer of the Year Achiever Award 2013 in the Netherlands, is one good such an example. This is an aspect of writing that often plagues me – I prefer to write about what I know and what I’d personally read. I do bring the famous “What if…” into play in the male/female/intercultural negations.

The novels I write tend to be opulent because I’m acquainted with that world and can move around it with ease.  But I can also put the billionaire right in the middle of a poor shack in India or the African jungle and do a mix of dialogue because I love the mind games of cultural differences. We all have cultural spectacles and earphones so that one and the same words are interpreted differently using these cultural spectacles and earphones.

Writers might have a facility for writing, or telling stories, or coming up with brilliant characters, or dialogue. But what should a writer write about? I need to have at least one of the above in place to even start thinking of a story. Writing is the hardest work I’ll ever do and probably the least remunerative of any profession in today’s market of commercial writing, where art seem to have been abandoned.

I have found my particular voice and subject matter plus medium, and stick to them in all I write, fiction and nonfiction. I know in my belly when those passages flow and I write easily with a smile twitching at the corner of my mouth.

And yes, I have writers I admire and analyse why I admire them, what draws me to their writing or their Message or their Voice.

BUY LINKS IN KINDLE – Please note that the books are also available in paperbacks:

UK Kindle: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Golden-Shana-Chase-von-KOry-ebook/dp/B00WA7M3OC/

UK Kindle: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Golden-Shana-Capture-von-KOry-ebook/dp/B06X1DGGMZ/

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Golden-Shana-Untouchable-von-KOry-ebook/dp/B07H1YY28C#reader_1725967073

US Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/Golden-Shana-Capture-von-KOry-ebook/dp/B06X1DGGMZ/

US Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/Golden-Shana-Untouchable-von-KOry-ebook/dp/B07H1YY28C/

UK Untouchable PB: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Golden-Shana-Untouchable-von-KOry/dp/1725967073

Website http://www.Akinyi-princess.de

Twitter  https://www.twitter.com/Apky11162

Facebook

Facebook Author Page:          https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAPVonKOry/

Facebook Timeline:                https://www.facebook.com/apvonkory

FB Golden Shana Series:       https://www.facebook.com/Goshanaliterotic/

FB Editor/Services:                https://www.facebook.com/KOrindaYimbo/

FB AuthorMePro Press:         https://www.facebook.com/Professionaless62bloggerP/

FB Readers & Reviewers:     https://www.facebook.com/AkinyiReadersReviews/

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.co.uk/A-P-Von-KOry/e/B00MDHD7ZS

*****

GIVEAWAY!

Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/a-p-von-kory/

Enter for your chance to win a Kindle copy of one of A P von K’Ory’s backlist books!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Coup de Foudre – A Guest Post by Justine Elyot (@justineelyot @sinfulpress) #giveaway

Hi, I’m Justine Elyot and I’m here today to talk to you about my new BDSM menage romance, The Story of Jo.

Drifting aimlessly through the romance community on Twitter and the like I sometimes see references (usually scathing) to ‘insta-love’ but I prefer the French term coup de foudre, which amounts to the same thing but in a sexier, Frencher way.

There seems to be a view that it’s unlikely for love to strike in that kind of way – instantly and forever – and I have some sympathy with that view. You can’t look into a stranger’s eyes and know that they are the one who will be with you till death do you part. You can’t know that you won’t ever grow apart, or drive the love away from each other, or meet somebody else after the shine has worn off.

All the same, it can happen and sometimes it does. Perhaps disproportionately in romance novels, but we aren’t dealing with kitchen sink drama here. (Which I just mistyped as kitchen kink, hmm, interesting…) And it happens to Jo when she meets Emmett.

When this kind of immediate, overwhelming attraction strikes, followed rapidly by emotional entanglement, it says a lot about the characters involved. Why are they such catnip to each other? They push each other’s buttons without even trying to, because there is an affinity between them that demands to be explored.

In Jo’s case, she is drifting and longs to drop anchor in a safe harbour. In Emmett’s, he is unconsciously looking for his ‘other half’, to prove to himself that he isn’t a complete misfit. Brought together at the right time and place, they create their own thunderstorm of desire.

Here’s an excerpt from their first meeting:

“Come on, mermaid,” said Emmett, unlinking from me and bending to remove his shoes and socks. “Come into your element with me.”

“Oh my God, are you serious?” I said, half-laughing as he took a step down towards the water’s edge, tiny wavelets lapping against the fading yellow-painted shore.

“Come on,” he repeated, in the water now, turning around to gesture me forwards. “It’s not cold.”

I dithered for a moment, but I was committed now, and still aching for Emmett’s approval, so I kicked off my high-heeled courts and basked in the pleasure of their loss, standing on the sun-warmed concrete slope and stretching out my toes.

Emmett had rolled his trousers up to the knee and was wading through the dark waters, throwing back his head to get the last good rays of the sun on to his sun-starved face.

I pattered down the hill after him, wincing and squealing as the water washed around my feet.

“You bloody liar! It’s freezing!”

He laughed and held out his hands.

“I’ll keep you warm,” he offered.

The temptation to run straight back out and shiver on the bank would ordinarily have won this battle, but Emmett’s force was stronger and I found myself impelled towards him, the water climbing ticklishly up my ankles and beyond while I cut a path through draggling pondweed and floating cigarette butts.

“Why did you say it wasn’t cold?”

“Why did you say I lived on a houseboat?”

I drew near enough for him to seize my hands and pull me in close. Our shirt buttons clashed and cotton met cotton, the warmth and promise inside pressing tight.

“I don’t know. It just popped into my head.”

“Your first thought was about where I lived, and you placed me in your own element – water.” He bent and whispered the words in my ear. “You wanted me, little mermaid. Don’t try and tell me otherwise.”

“I…”

He hushed my mouth with a kiss, sending the words back down inside me. I stood in the tight clasp of his arms and did what I never did. I opened up to him. I parted my lips and let him inside.

Hazily I wondered Is this me? Josephine Price, so hesitant, so reticent, standing here in a strange man’s arms, knee deep in brackish boating lake water, kissing down the sun.

We stood there, lip to lip, tongue against tongue, hands sliding under jackets in heated exploration, until a gust of chill rippled the water around our legs. My cheeks and chin were sticky and sore with stubble burn; my lips were swollen and chapping. But I still wanted more.

“Actually,” he said, pressing his forehead to mine, “I do live on a houseboat.”

“Oh, you don’t,” I gasped.

“Well, I might and I might not,” he said. “Do you want to find out?”

(Spoiler: she does!)

*****

Blurb:

I met a man called Emmett, and now I belong to him.

Twenty-something Jo meets Emmett on a team-building course, and her initial disdain for him soon turns into attraction.

With Emmett’s strong but loving hand to guide her, Jo unleashes her inner submissive and they embark on an intense voyage of sexual discovery.

Their mutual fascination sees them exploring bondage, spanking, toys and more, and their romance is as perfect as Jo could hope for, until another man appears on the scene.

She knows that Emmett hero-worships his former boss and mentor, Charles, but when she finds out that Charles is the man who introduced Emmett to the art of domination, she has no idea how to feel.

With fierce desire growing between the three of them, can they find a way to explore this new dynamic without destroying what they already have?

If you want read more, the book is available now from:

Amazon | KoboiTunes | Barnes and Noble

*****

Author bio:

Justine Elyot is the author of best selling erotic novels On Demand and The Business of Pleasure, as well as enough short stories to fill several anthologies.

She can often be found moaning about stuff on Twitter as @JustineElyot

*****

GIVEAWAY!

Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/justine-elyot-3/

Enter for your chance to win a £20/$20 Amazon gift card and a paperback copy of The Story of Jo.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Before We Fall: New from Grace Lowrie

 

Before We Fall Blurb:

When quiet Cally, an amateur ballet dancer, is suddenly diagnosed with cancer she runs away from her boyfriend Liam, her job in a call centre and her safe life in Wildham – in order to experience ‘real’ life in London. Taking a job as a stripper and flat-sitting in the top of an office tower she meets her obnoxious neighbour Bay; a tattooed, drug-taking, suicidal artist, haunted by the death of those close to him. Despite their differences, the two strike up a friendship – Bay pushes Cally to try new things while Cally provides Bay with a muse – and they fall in love. But their secrets threaten to tear them apart and time is running out…

 

 

Before We Fall Excerpt:

Bay took his time setting up – righting his easel, re-securing a canvas, arranging the low lighting and organising his supplies. Retrieving our vodka Martinis from the kitchen, he set them by the bed before switching off my playlist and putting The Fragile album on repeat. This time he stripped off his trousers and settled on to the stool butt-naked except for his wristwatch; a paintbrush in hand, and his expression all business.

 

I watched him as he worked, his gaze shifting constantly between me and the canvas, even while he was mixing up new colours or incorporating a gel medium to alter the texture. My eyes feasted on the parts of him that the easel didn’t block from view – his sexy feet; his long, athletic, hairy legs; his impressive private parts relaxed and weighty against his thigh; the bulge of his inked biceps; his black unruly hair, sticking-up in great tufts where I had pulled it – my fingers tingled at the memory – and his eyes; that dark, intense steady gaze, that turned me inside-out with longing.

 

‘Tell me what you see,’ I said.

 

He kept painting as if he hadn’t heard me, and I started to wonder if I had ruined things between us. Shamelessly, ruthlessly, I had taken what I wanted. Would he forgive me? Or would I live to regret it? Abandoning his brush in a jar of water he took up another, kneading the bristles in his palm and then into fresh paint. At length he returned his impassive gaze to me, as welcome as the sun.

 

‘I see the gentle slope of your shoulder…’ he said, applying brush to canvas, ‘…the elegant line of your neck and the way the light burnishes the tips of your knuckles beneath you cheek.’

 

His measured words physically stirred me, as if he were actually reaching out and caressing my skin. I swallowed. ‘What else?’

 

‘I see the shadows captured by your collarbone; the way your breasts rise and shift with each breath, and the deep, wine- red splashes of your nipples, which pucker and harden under my scrutiny.’

 

I shivered at his words, an aching heat unfurling inside me and pooling low down in my groin. ‘Cold?’
‘No.’
‘Move your right hand up and cup your left breast.’

 

I did as he said, as if in a trance, and my fingers didn’t feel like my own. My skin thrilled at my touch as if it was his.

 

‘Now rub your nipple with your thumb,’

 

My breath caught in my throat as sensation zinged through me. I had become Bay’s willing marionette; in his thrall and at his mercy. Calmly he returned his attention to his painting while I continued to pleasure myself. But I wanted more. ‘What else do you see?’

 

‘The gentle swell of your stomach… the feminine curve of your hip… and the soft, dark nest of curls between your thighs, still damp with my come.’

 

I was breathing harder now, my face felt flushed and I unconsciously squeezed my thighs together to ease the throbbing there.

 

‘Slowly move your hand down your body – slowly,’ he repeated. His eyes followed as my fingers began their torturous descent. Despite his stern expression, his steady voice, and his determination to paint, Bay was hard again; his impressive shaft restrained in his left fist. Every part of me yearned for Bay to give in, to lose control and take me again. But we said only once – that was the deal – and I didn’t want to be the one to break it.

 

‘Raise your thigh and touch yourself there,’ his voice was lower and rougher than before.

 

Sinking my fingers between my legs, I quietly moaned as a shudder of pleasure rolled through me, but I fought to keep my eyes fixed on Bay. His paintbrush now hovered ineffectually in the air, his gaze ensnared by my body, his left hand slowly working his length.

 

‘Taste it,’ he said and I withdrew my fingers. They glistened with moisture as they caught the light and I sucked them slowly and deliberately.

 

I no longer recognised myself at all. But it did the trick.

 

With a groan of defeat Bay abandoned his work and strode towards me. Nudging me over onto my back, he leaned down, pressed the flat of his tongue to my lower belly and licked all the way up to my neck in one long, slow sweep. I instinctively spread my legs for him as he crawled onto the bed and kissed me on the mouth, tasting our combined desire on my tongue. It was a much gentler kiss than before – soft, warm and probing – a proper long, drawn-out, bone-melting snog. I was so relaxed that it felt entirely natural when he eased inside me – the most sublime feeling in the world.

 

 

About Grace:

Having worked as a collage artist, sculptor, prop maker and garden designer, Grace
has always been creative, but she is a romantic introvert at heart and writing was, and is, her first love.

Before We Fall, the second novel in The Wildham Series, is published by Accent Press, who also released her debut contemporary romance novel, Kindred Hearts, in
2015.

A lover of rock music, art nouveau design, blue cheese and grumpy ginger tomcats,
Grace is also an avid reader of fiction – preferring coffee and a sinister undercurrent, over tea and chick lit. When not making prop costumes or hanging out with her favourite nephews, she continues to write stories from her Hertfordshire home.

 

Find Grace Here:

Facebook – /GraceLowrieWriter

Twitter – @GraceLowrie1

 

Lynne Shelby Launches The One That I Want

 

 

The One That I Want Blurb:

When Lucy Ashford lands a top job at a leading theatrical agency in London, work mixes with pleasure, as she literally falls into the arms of Hollywood heartthrob Daniel Miller.

Handsome, charming and irresistible, Daniel is just what unlucky-in-love Lucy needs, and she is quickly drawn into his glittering celebrity lifestyle. But can she tame the A-list bad boy or is she just one more girl in Daniel s long line of conquests?

And then there’s up-and-coming actor Owen Somers, fiercely talented but as yet uncast in a starring role. After she takes him onto the agency’s books, Owen and Lucy’s friendship slowly grows. If she looks closely, Lucy’s leading man might be right before her very eyes…

 

The One That I Want Excerpt:

This extract takes place early in the book after the theatrical agency’s Christmas party, when Daniel invites Lucy to continue the evening at a nightclub.

 

As I followed Daniel to one of the leather sofas, I was aware of faces turning towards us, the sudden absence of talk as we approached, and renewed chatter once we’d walked past. With so many eyes on me, I was relieved that I made it to the sofa without falling over my feet. Daniel sat next to me, leaving very little space between us. A waiter immediately materialised beside us and asked what we’d like to drink. Daniel promptly ordered champagne.

 

‘Did you notice everyone looking at you?’ I said to him when the waiter had gone.

Daniel shrugged. ‘Since Fallen Angel came out, I get recognised all the time.’

 

‘Having total strangers watching your every move must take some getting used to.’

 

‘I’m an actor,’ Daniel said. ‘Being the centre of attention kind of goes with the territory.’

 

I thought of the numerous articles about Daniel’s amorous exploits in Ireland that I’d read in the gossip columns. And the photos of him glued to his co-star’s face.

 

‘But you must find it irritating to be continuously stalked by the paparazzi,’ I said.

 

Daniel smiled. ‘I don’t mind them. I rather enjoy seeing photos of myself in the tabloids. It’s free publicity.’

 

The waiter returned with our champagne, poured two glasses, and left the bottle within easy reach in a bucket of ice.

 

When we were alone again, Daniel said, ‘I waited a long time to become famous. Now that I’ve had a taste of what it means to be a star, I want more. I want the Hollywood mansion and the Malibu beach house. I want the private jet and the yacht in the south of France. And if getting them means I have to pose for a few photographs outside a nightclub, I really don’t see it as a problem. But I’m glad there weren’t any paparazzi around tonight. It would’ve been hard to make you run a gauntlet of flashing cameras when we’re only on our first date.’

 

‘Is this a date?’ I said.

 

‘Well, there’s you, me, and a bottle of champagne,’ Daniel said. ‘I’d call that a date.’

 

I was on a date with film star Daniel Miller. The thought made me feel light-headed.

‘What would that actress you dated in Ireland think about you being here with me?’ I said.

 

Daniel looked taken aback. ‘She wouldn’t think anything. I was never in a relationship with her. DCOL.’

 

‘What?’

 

‘Doesn’t Count On Location.’

‘I see.’

 

About Lynne:

Lynne Shelby was the winner of our Accent Press/Woman magazine writing prize with her debut novel French Kissing.

She has worked in a variety of day jobs from stable girl to legal administrator. She also had a very enjoyable vicarious career as a stage mother, which has given her a love of the theatre that inspires a lot of  her writing.

She lives in North London with her tall, dark and handsome husband, her son, her two daughters and a lot of books.

 

Twitter: @LynneB1

Website: https://www.lynneshelby.com/

Instagram: lynneshelbywriter

 

 

 
© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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