Thanks so much for inviting me over today, Kd, it’s great to be here. I’m so excited about the FIFA 2014 World Cup. Mr H and I are planning parties with our friends and family. There will be England flags and banners, cakes and hats all with the England flag on them. No doubt some face-painting going on too!
Football fever really grips my family. I have five brothers-in-law plus three brothers of my own and they are all football crazy. It’s always loud, fun and to be honest, there were many years I didn’t ‘get’ it, but then I decided “if you can’t beat `em, join `em” which is exactly what I’ve done.
Now I’m now the one planning the party, organizing the get-together and Googling all the kick-off times. There will be beer, cheers, sighs of dismay and much discussion until the small hours of the morning – all good fun! Go England!
Scored, my sexy football novel, isn’t about the World Cup but the European Cup, specifically the 2012 European Cup hosted by Ukraine. I watched it avidly and was so inspired by all those sexy athletes shooting up and down the pitch that I created an England captain all of my own – enter Lewis Tate. Yum! He’s the perfect combination of alpha male, considerate English gent and single-minded athlete.
The heroine in Scored is a sports journalist, and a serious one at that. She isn’t interested in the gossip and the scandal surrounding the players, she wants to give the lowdown on the formation, the starting line up and the on-pitch skills. Yes, of course she does, she also can’t help having a major crush on Lewis, and despite some of her Bridget Jones’ ways, it seems he kinda likes her too!
Blurb
Okay, so I eat, sleep and breathe football and reporting the beautiful game is my dream career. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have time for a major crush on the England captain, Lewis Tate. The bloke is sex on legs, hot with a capital H. Add in his awe-inspiring talent, his brooding good looks and what’s not to lust after?
So my excitement is sky-high as I set off with the official press team to cover England’s battle for the European Cup. But when a series of unfortunate, or as it turns out fortunate events, attracts Tate’s attention my way, who am I to say no?
Add in a misogynistic manager, an over-zealous colleague, two blue silk ties and some incredible ball-handling skills and it becomes clear the road to victory, for me, will be an intensely erotic journey. Determined to savor every moment, I hang onto my sanity as best I can while living the fantasy and wondering if it can ever become reality. Because once Lewis Tate has taken me to heaven and back, its clear no one else will ever compare.
Here’s a snippet taken from when Nicky and Lewis have secretly met up in a Cathedral in Donetsk…
“But I’m just Nicky Thomas, sports journalist. I come from Stoke and have a middle-class, unremarkable background. Why would someone as amazing as you, with all your footballing credentials, want me?”
He shook his head and appeared bemused. “What does football have to do with me admiring your professionalism, being comfortable with who you are and fighting for what you want?” He paused. “You do still like me, don’t you?”
I nodded. Unable to trust myself to speak and gush about just how much I liked him. How much I would like to cover him in whipped cream, sprinkles and chocolate drops and spend an entire day eating it off him.
“Good,” he said. “Because if you can just cope with this craziness for a little while longer, in few weeks the tournament will be over and we won’t have to sneak around.”
“You mean—”
He brushed his lips over mine. “Yes, honey, I mean this is just the start of something. Well, it is for me anyway. It’s been a long time since I’ve met anyone who’s been my last thought as I’ve gone to sleep and my first thought each morning.”
Oh, fuck. Now he’s got me.
I became a puddle of romantic ideals falling toward him. Didn’t he know what kind of effect sentiments like that had on a girl? I reached for his shoulders, pressed my body to his and allowed him to kiss me into a stupor of longing. He was my every thought too. When I wasn’t with him I was thinking about being with him and when I was with him I just couldn’t get close enough.
He tangled his fingers in my hair and held me firm as he kissed and explored my mouth. I let him in and melted under his touch. The way he was clasping me was so possessive, so masculine and dominant. Little thought kernels of what he could do to me, how he could make me feel, in bed, began to pop like candy in my belly. Imagine if he held me like this when he…
Oh, sweet Jesus. I was getting turned on again. Shit, and in a holy place.
Lewis groaned and sent kisses across my cheek, tugged my hair firmer so my head tipped, then licked and nipped at my neck. Lust shot to my pussy. It was like there was a wire from the skin on my neck to my clit and his attentions sent white-hot streaks of pleasure zapping down it.
“Lewis,” I murmured, trying to move my head but unable to. I discovered that far from feeling frustrated I reveled in the hold he had on me. That fact that I couldn’t move and he was doing what he wanted to my neck was a massive turn-on.
“Ah, honey, I could have fucking killed Fellows the other night. Walking away from you took every ounce of control I had.”
His breath was scalding hot against my flesh and I shivered with pleasure at his heated words.
“It was okay for you, though,” he went on.
“What do you mean?”
He released the grip on my head and brought my face level with his. “I think you know.”
I swallowed. I did know.
“You used it, didn’t you?”
“What?”
“Don’t act coy.” A slow smile spread on his face. “Because it makes me so horny to imagine you using your vibrator and thinking of me.”
I opened my mouth but no words came out.
He took full advantage and kissed me again. This time he slipped his hand up my top and cupped my breast over the new bra.
I pressed closer for more. Why did we have to be fully clothed and in a cathedral? Right now I would sell my soul to be naked in bed with him and no other person for a hundred miles around.
“I can just imagine you,” he said, tweaking my nipple through silk. “Lying on the bed, legs spread, that buzzing shaft penetrating your sweetness, getting you off, making you pant and sweat.” He paused. “Did you think of me?”
Fuck yes.
“Tell me,” he whispered, “Please, I want to know.”
“Yes. Yes I did.”
I felt his body tense and his shoulders hitched, like he was pulling in a deep breath.
“And did you say my name?” He switched his attentions to the opposite breast.
“Yes, over and over.”
He fluttered his eyes shut and let out a long deep sigh. “Oh, fuck, that mental image of you is so hot,” he muttered.
“Lewis Tate,” I said in a scolding whisper. “You’re a bad boy picturing such things in a holy place.”
His eyes pinged open and his gaze trapped mine. For a split second I thought he might grin. He didn’t. “Tell me you’re not thinking them too.”
“Yes, I am, but—”
“But the difference is you’re not going to have zipper marks permanently imprinted on your genitals.” He shifted on the seat. “Fuck, you make me so hard.” He shook his head and muttered, “So hard it hurts.”
That knowledge thrilled me utterly. “Is that so?” I ran my hand down over his chest, his abdomen, then settled it on the solid wedge of flesh at his groin that was pushing and straining against the denim.
“That’s not helping.” He moaned. His face twisted and his eyes screwed up tight.
“I know what will, though.”
Fuck. Had I really just said that? Double fuck. Had I really just thought that? I had, and it seemed I was the biggest sinner of the lot because I didn’t care. I wanted to act on my impulse. In fact, I wasn’t sure anything could stop me. Not now the need, the desire, had flooded my brain like a tsunami.
I tugged at the button on his jeans, freeing it with a quick flick of my wrist.
“Nicky,” he said, parting his lips on a pant. “What are you doing?” He opened his eyes. They were dark and smoky, their normally crystal-clear depths clouded with lust.
“I’m going to help you out with that zipper problem.” As I spoke I tugged down the zip on his jeans. The flesh beneath burst forward, the cotton of his briefs not as efficient at containing his cock as the denim had been.
“Ah, fuck, really, here?” He hissed in a breath as I cupped his shaft through cotton.
I glanced around. “We seem to be alone.”
“But anyone could walk in—”
I kissed him, cut off his words, the same way he had me earlier. “I somehow don’t think it will take long.” I sought the waistband of his boxers and delved inside. Bulging, heated flesh strained forward and I gripped it eagerly. Ecstatic to finally
have his cock in my hand.
“Now just let me down there,” I said, nodding between his knees and finding myself admiring the proud, scarlet shaft filling my palm. The head was wide and shiny and blushed with arousal.
He didn’t speak, just spread his thighs and let me maneuver myself between him and the pew in front. “Keep look out,” I said, finding a prayer cushion for my knees and settling into the softness.
“I’ll try.” His cheeks were flushed, his jaw tensed.
I gave him a sexy grin then poked out my tongue and stroked it through the deep slit on the head of his cock. Pulled in his flavor and swept it over my palate. It was sweetly bitter with a salty creaminess to it. Delicious.
“Ah, shit, that’s so horny seeing you do that.” He tipped forward and gripped the backrest of the pew behind me, effectively embracing me within his bulk and engulfing me in shadows. “Fuck, be careful. I’m so near coming already.”
“Keep looking out,” I said.
*****
Oh Nicky you’re so bad, but it does get good for her, really good! Against the wall, in the bath and tied to the bed good! Here are a few reviews for Scored…
Lily Harlem’s story of a famous footballer and a hardcore sports writer is one of the best happily ever after erotica novels I’ve read.”
“Explosive, and oh my god wow, that’s all I can say. I could not put the book (Scored) down till I was finished. A must read!”
“From strangers to friendship to lovers, Nicky and Lewis were amazing. It felt like real life and I could picture all the events taking place. This is a must read!”
“An amazing story.”
“This is a must read. 123 pages of yummy goodness.”
And if you like Pinterest this might be right up your street… http://www.pinterest.com/lilyharlem/sexy-soccer-scored/
Scored is available from all good ebook retailers including:
Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Scored-ebook/dp/B0085MQSA6/ref=la_B004MHRTQK_1_14?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1366015666&sr=1-14
Amazon UK http://www.amazon.co.uk/Scored-Sexy-Sporting-Romance-Harlem-ebook/dp/B0085MQSA6/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1401693751&sr=1-1&keywords=Scored+%28Sexy+Sporting+Romance%29
ARe https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-scored-1485502-356.html
Kobo http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/scored-1
Barnes and Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/scored-lily-harlem/1119140373?ean=2940149314478&itm=1&usri=2940149314478
iBooks https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id859050689
Find out more about me and my work on my website http://www.lilyharlem.com follow my blog for daily musings http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.co.uk and subscribe to my newsletter for information on new releases, freebies and contests http://www.lilyharlem.com/newsletter-subscription.html
Thank you for inviting me to your blog, Kd J
It’s three in the morning. I’m lying in bed next my sleeping husband, knowing I should try to get some rest. But I’m too keyed up to sleep. How can I possibly when I keep glancing over at the desk and seeing the lovely ETO Award glinting in the moonlight streaming in the window. That award has my name on it! Yes! My name — KD Grace, it says! Best erotic author, it says in bold letters as big as you please.
The ETO and ETO Magazine have been so supportive of erotic writers. We’ve always been able to count on them to promote us and what we do and to give us a chance to promote ourselves. It isn’t just that, it’s knowing that people voted, people who like what I write, and that what I write, what all of us erotic authors write is appreciated. yup! Pretty much speechless.
the things you think about. And then I was on stage receiving that gorgeous shiny award with my name on it. I could see the Brit Babes cheering. It was their award too. It was our award. They hold me up. We hold each other up and challenge each other to write better, to be more creative. I was so glad to be celebrating with them. I said something to that effect, or at least I think I did. I’m much better with written words than impromptu speaking in front of a roomful of people. I remember there were pictures then and I went back to my the table, Ruby Kiddell and Velvet Books had so generously shared with the Brit Babes, gripping the award and the bottle of fizz and smiling like a crazy person. I barely got sat down before Cara Sutra won the best journalist award and I was cheering at the top of my lungs and the totally 
awesome Renee Denyer, manager at Sh! Women’s Erotic Emporium and one of my true heroes, won best shop manager for Sh! And, icing on the cake, Xcite Books once again won the award for Best Erotic Books Brand. Kay Jaybee and I had the honour of accepting the Xcite award for Hazel Cushion, who couldn’t be there. That gave us the lovely opportunity to fondle two ETO Awards! 
Victoria Blisse, Kay Jaybee & Lexie Bay and we talked and planned and schemed and laughed. Sadly we had to leave Tabitha Rayne who was in a different hotel. As the subject turned to the challenges of writing a story and living the writers’ life, I couldn’t help myself. I kept touching that shiny award, reading the name on it again and again. Just to be sure. 
Blurb: