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The Story Behind Elsie Hepner’s latest release — A Little Slap and Tickle

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The first time a flicker of my new release, A Little Slap and Tickle, tripped a writing wire in my brain, my husband was fondly admiring a hand-tooled leather armor set in one of the wooden booths at our yearly visit to the Maryland Renaissance Faire. Meanwhile, I had my eye on the leather, sheep-lined four cuff set and leather paddles. My kind of instruments. Next my eyes drifted over the super smoking leather worker who was manning the booth—and a book was born.

I knew the second I got home that Flynn was going to disfigured, sarcastic, and self-confident while Eliza was going to have her whole life shot to hell. For a normally all together person, Eliza was royally panicking—which worked to our hero’s advantage. Flynn opened her up, sent her spinning in a million different directions, and proved that chaos can be a happy state too, if only you let someone else take the reins. What once had been a sexy idea born of a hot guy and some leather cuffs I couldn’t afford morphed into an exhibitionist freak show wonderland where one floundering woman relearns how to find herself again.

Frankly, it was fun making the faire sexy when every time I go I witness all sorts of luscious, seductive costumes. I can’t count how many times I’ve seen some woman leading a man on an leather o-ring leash or a goth couple letting their freak flag fly high. More than anything I wanted my characters to embrace their setting, embrace all the little things that might make them flawed and freaky. Celebrate their uniqueness during epic, no-holds-barred sex that leaves both of them vulnerable.

While Eliza is a BDSM newbie, she’s not immune to the delicious ache that Flynn twines around her body and into her bones. What once seemed clandestine and off limits becomes a way of coping, a method of release. Until Eliza has no choice but to accept what she enjoys without looking back.

Elsie Hepner Slap and TickleBlurb:

Eliza’s stuck in a lacklustre, dead-end slump after coming home with her graduate degree to a slippery job market and her brother’s fold out couch. Unable to circle newspaper ads for another second and desperately crawling into sexual fantasy to escape her dismal reality—Eliza takes her escapism a step further when she agrees to go to the Renaissance Faire with her best friend, Dru.

Her whole world shifts when Eliza meets Hunter, a quirky, mysterious leather worker who runs a booth at the faire. He’s been a platonic friend of Dru’s for ages and supplies her with homemade BDSM bedroom toys—toys that he’s more than willing to demonstrate with Eliza once the faire closes. But can Eliza give up control in order to trust that one of her biggest fantasies will live up to her expectations?

Hunter’s skills as a dominant force Eliza to trust herself again and Hunter finds himself with a feisty submissive that pushes more of his buttons than he ever thought possible. Together they push themselves farther than any fantasy, until their lives are never the same again.

Excerpt:

“I can’t say I’ve ever…participated…in an event like this one before, Dru.”

“Is that a bad thing? Don’t you think you should expand your boundaries outside of your brother’s fold-out couch and a newspaper full of wanted ads? Come on, have a little fun, Eliza.”

Eliza glanced sideways at her best friend’s elfin, petite face speckled with sunlight from the gorgeous afternoon in the woods. Dru’s light blond eyebrows were raised in question, rose lips pursed. The dare for Eliza to question her hung unsaid in the air. A wisp of wind picked up Dru’s red, cork-screw curls and pushed them across her face. But Eliza only cleared her throat—unfocused on Dru’s warm, whisky colored eyes, and refocused onto the crowd in front of them amidst the trees.

At least she wouldn’t feel out of place in her Indian maiden leather get up straight out of some weird S&M store that she’d borrowed from Dru. The skirt brushed mid-thigh with leather tassels that didn’t exactly cover—anything. While the corseted halter top ended at an abrupt triangle showing the whole world that it’d been awhile since she’d hit a gym. What topped the whole ensemble off were more tassels threaded beneath her breasts in a weird attempt at an Empire waist effect. The outfit was an experience unto itself, even without everything to see and do unraveling before her eyes.

For a second it was hard for Eliza to think of their little adventure into unwashed bodies, crowds, and medieval costumes as fun per se. But damn if the food wasn’t out of this world. And her best friend was right. Her status as Master’s degree holding, library science geek hadn’t earned her points on any of her less than minimum wage job interviews this week. Most people in their small town were snug as a bug in their day jobs and there wasn’t much room for more work with positions being pre-filled by family and friends.

She’d been away too long at college. Long enough to lose favor when it came down to a townie and a girl with too much school experience. No matter where she looked, she was overqualified. Facts were facts—libraries were closing like mad. Not to mention they only had one in the area filled with employees who held onto their positions with their last dying breath.

There was proving to be no room for Eliza here. But there weren’t any options in the outside world with no savings and no one to lean on if she continued on her job losing streak. Until she got lucky, she was beholden to her big brother and a nine-to-five job pursuit. Better to get out of the house for a little while. Besides, she’d worn out her traditional red pen circling the newspaper ads in the back of the paper and couldn’t afford to buy another one until Monday.

Two months of moping was enough to fry anyone’s brain and she needed to leave her problems behind. So this trip back in time better offer up merriment and wonder soon. Or at least some free booze. Just because she was out of college didn’t mean she couldn’t indulge in a pint or two.

“At least it’s free exercise,” Eliza chimed in with an easy smile.

Okay, so all the men in kilts and shiny chainmail were a bit distracting and she hadn’t seen this many boobs since Christmas at her sister Cheri’s divorce celebration. But the atmosphere wasn’t that bad. As they circled all the vendor booths with creative, painted signs and traveled beneath the charming forest of old oaks, Eliza could almost forget about, well, everything. Her complete lack of independent direction and purpose in life. As well as the fact that her dreams of an easy life were more than dashed. But this was nice—a swell of happiness.

A light breeze shifted through her A-line, brunette bob and she took a long, deep breath of carboliciousness. Her mouth watered and she continued following close behind Dru.

“Whoa, did you see that?”

“What? Oh, the woman holding the man on a leash in full bondage gear? They’re here every year. That’s old news, honey. People come to this place to let their freak flag fly high and for the most part no one gives a shit.”

She shifted her gaze away from the treacherous roots embedded into the earthen floor and watched Dru’s retreating—and fully corseted—back. Where was she going?  What could be so important that they needed to rush through the crowds? Eliza was positive she’d brushed up against her hundredth stranger in only a half hour of being in the gates.

Several people must have gotten an up-close and personal brush of her bra-less breasts in her confining, leather get-up. Dru had lent Eliza her costume from last year and as they struggled through the crush of the food court crowds she wished there was a little more of it. Not only was her outfit tiny and skin tight, but the mid-summer air kept wafting up the skirt until Eliza was positive she was flashing the whole park.

“Um, could you—”

Before Eliza could finish the sentence, she glanced up and Dru had alighted two wooden steps into an open air shop front. She was talking to a man in a long leather duster with delicious abs similar to the covers of the romance novels Eliza was so fond of reading in her spare—alone—time. He wore a wide brimmed leather black cowboy hat that obscured his face and matching black leather pants.

Was Dru seriously waving her over there to talk to him?

No, there had to be some mistake. There was no way she was prepared for any kind of social interaction, let alone a handsome stranger. Christ, they hadn’t even hit the bar yet. Not one drop of liquid courage had passed her chapped lips and her stomach plummeted down to her feet faster than when she’d been stood up by her date right before prom pictures. But Dru frantically waved her over and laughed with her head back so her red curls cascaded down her back in a manner Eliza imagined was seductive.

Well, no turning back now. Where exactly would she go? It wasn’t as though she knew the lay of the land. Besides, the minute the man shed his long leather duster to point to a tattoo on his bicep, smiling down at Dru, there was no longer a choice. She had to see him closer. Her mouth watered at the expanse of all that beautiful, almost naked, man flesh.

There was more to him than an intimidating, tight physique. His every movement exuded thinly veiled grace while his smile lit up his sharply masculine face. A contrast of good cheer mixed with a concentration on whatever subject interested him. Until he became riveted, obsessed, with a possessive awareness of his subject. As she got closer, she sensed his gaze snap to her face, expression unchanged. But in that split second Eliza sensed his acute judgment.

He measured her with his shadowed stare while his small quirk of a smile never wavered.

The friends continued to talk but their voices were drowned out by the heavy pulse at Eliza’s temples. All of her flesh seized with goose bumps. This stranger stood as if all the world was his to explore, with a brightness in his eyes that dared nature to defy his dominant curiosity over what he claimed was his by right. He looked as if the whole world would bow down to him. And he wouldn’t be surprised. But nothing about him screamed arrogance—only a self-certainty and a quiet sense of inner peace.

Weird that she should read someone so quickly, but he was an open book. Both hands on his hips, lean muscles stretched in his arms and back until her knees were weak. Dru spoke and he laughed, head tipped forward while one strong hand rubbed the center of his chest. The dark shadow from his hat brim obscured everything but the clean, model-esque lines of his face so she couldn’t see his joy.

But his bark of gravelly laughter hit her as a punch in the gut while her chest tightened. There were enough trees in this place that she should have never lost oxygen. There wasn’t enough air in the world right at that moment. As Eliza fought for composure she focused only on his tattoo.

Yield to life—there is only threat of tomorrow.

His tattoo was inked in thin filigree with woven rope knots all around the words. One breath. Another. Each one became easier even as she grew closer, knowing she had to hide all her ruffled feathers. There wasn’t a single nuance Dru wouldn’t pick up on and exploit.

One step after another landed her front and center next to Dru as her best friend slung her arm around Eliza’s waist.

“Took you long enough,” Dru whispered in mock chastisement.

Before she could get a good look at the man, he turned and rummaged behind his counter, giving them both an all-access pass to perfect ass land. Eliza knew she should keep her eyes closed, but they were glued to the tight, sculpted muscles on the wicked stranger. The faire didn’t seem that bad anymore.

Dru squeezed Eliza’s torso until she met her best friend’s shining eyes, lit up with nothing but pure mischief. These were moments Dru lived for—any opportunity to tease. But it never bothered Eliza, it was all in good fun and her best friend meant well. She remained oddly silent. Despite the fact that Eliza all but flinched while she waited for whatever whispered barb her best friend would deliver on behalf of her less than subtle reaction to the intriguing man.

How could she not have a reaction when his damn presence practically demanded one?

“Ah, here it is.”

His voice rushed over her tingling down her back and she had to stop herself from taking an automatic step back. Irish, too? Oh, no. No, no, no. He was more than perfect and she hadn’t even said a thing to him yet. Why was she even there? So Dru could lord this man over her head—the perfect romance hero—or so they could be set up together for an awkward date and never see each other again?

Hell, maybe she was taking this whole thing too seriously, but their history of set-ups was long and varied. Even throughout college Dru wasn’t satisfied until they each had at least two dates a week.

This had to be some kind of evil set-up because clearly Dru knew the guy. They must be pulling this to screw with her head because poor little Eliza hadn’t been on a date in forever and who knows if there are cobwebs down there. This guy was some actor from Dru’s troop of players for sure. She’d done theater every summer for as long as Eliza could remember.

He came back up from his crouch behind the counter and turned back to them with something hidden behind his back. One long finger tipped up his hat. Eliza got her first straight on look at the man that she suspiciously regarded with every ounce of her petite frame.

His nose was slightly crooked. An old wound that hadn’t been set, maybe? A five o’clock shadow roughened the strong, square jaw and lips that were better suited on a female than the masculine portrait that acted as if he had nothing to hide. It took every last ounce of her will to gaze up below the brim of his hat.

He wore an eye patch. Whether or not it was for the faire or an actual problem, she couldn’t resist the edge of danger. His good eye—light brown with amber flecks—was bright with unreadable heat fixed solely on her face. She swallowed despite the lump in her throat. Nothing he did betrayed anything of how he was feeling or thinking—only the sharp look that pinned her to the floor.

And whatever he held behind his back.

For a long blink it was hard for Eliza to even remember that Dru’s hand rested around her waist. All she could focus on was the knowing twist of the stranger’s lips. The unwelcome and unexpected blush that seared against her skin when they hadn’t even spoken to each other made her fingers twitch at her side.

How could she resist him when he fit the caricature of an ideal man she’d been reading about in romances all her life? She was only stupidly comparing him to a man that didn’t exist. A string of perfections that couldn’t be real in one man. Left in the dust of her overwhelming horniness, well, she was being an idiot.

There wasn’t any other explanation for the way her hormones were skyrocketing off into different directions. He looked down into her eyes and she couldn’t help it—she giggled. That broke whatever fake connection she nursed in her mind. He plunked an item down onto the counter and shrugged back into his leather duster that had lain on the counter.

Without thinking, she blurted out the first sentence that flew across her scattered brain. An old habit that refused to die. And often led her to want to be buried in the same grave, instead of suffering the mortifying consequences.

“An eye patch, really? Aren’t you mixing genres with a cowboy and a pirate?”

Buy Links:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Little-Slap-Tickle-Erotic-Novella-ebook/dp/B00H3LBBUW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1386556736&sr=8-1&keywords=Elise+Hepner

Amazon.co.uk:  http://www.amazon.co.uk/Little-Slap-Tickle-Erotic-Novella-ebook/dp/B00H3LBBUW/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1386937714&sr=1-1-fkmr0&keywords=Elsie+Hepner+A+little+Slap+and+Tickle

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-little-slap-and-tickle-elise-hepner/1116379648?ean=9781783751976

Xcite: http://www.xcitebooks.com/Book/10204/A-Little-Slap-and-Tickle.html

Bio:

Elise Hepner lives with her husband and two eccentric cats in Maryland. She spends the majority of her free time in her basement office concocting smutty characters and sinful situations that leaves readers satisfied. When not writing, she researches everything from automatons in the 18th century to gladiatorial rules in Ancient Rome. She prides herself on being an avid information hound as well as a blog reading addict–which is her favorite way to procrastinate. Her previous publications include books and stories with Excessica, Xcite, Ellora’s Cave, Secret Cravings Publishing and Cleis Press.

Author Links:

Website: www.elisehepner.com

Twitter: www.twitter.com/EHepner

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Elise-Hepner-Writing/311925106401

 

 

One Flesh by Annabeth Leong

One FleshBlurb:

Leticia and Rosalie are planning their wedding, wanting very much to make their special day one to remember, but Rosalie has something else weighing on her mind, one more thing she wants to make as special and as memorable as the ceremony itself—their wedding night. Rosalie wants to be with Leticia in a way that neither of them had ever been with anyone else. But finding something that would be a first time for both of them turns out to be harder than expected.

As it turns out, there is one thing Leticia has wanted to do but has never trusted anyone enough to allow herself to overcome the fear of it. And it’s something that Rosalie has never done either.

The women discuss the idea of fisting as a means of connecting and forming an intimate bond with each other, one that they’ve never formed with anyone else. They’ve never loved or trusted anyone else they way the love and trust each other, and they are determined to find a way to make it work.

Excerpt:

“I’ll call tomorrow to tell the church how many flowers we want to order,” Leticia said, sighing and folding her notebook closed. No matter how many neat lists she made with her favorite purple pen, the sheer quantity of wedding-related details was overwhelming. “Can you call the caterer back, Rosalie? I still feel like they sneaked a charge in somewhere, but I can’t get a straight answer out of them about it.”

Her fiancée smiled indulgently. “Better yet. I’ll go in person on my lunch break, and they won’t know what hit them.”

“Great.” Leticia rubbed her temples and closed her eyes. She’d wanted to go to bed early, but another evening of wedding planning had made that completely impossible. She was excited to be marrying her one true love and all, but it was easy to lose track of that when she had fourteen phone calls to make and her mother demanded an e-mailed progress report every single night. “That’s got to be enough for now.”

Leticia stole a quick glance at Rosalie. She’d changed into a cute pair of pajamas when she got home from work, the childish pattern an odd contrast with her sophisticated coppery makeup. Leticia briefly fantasized about peeling the clothing away, revealing her lover’s curves and smooth brown skin. Unfortunately, at that very same moment, she had to stifle a yawn. She was so damn sleepy. They would need to get to bed immediately if she was going to give Rosalie proper attention.

“We can’t quit planning yet,” Rosalie said. “We haven’t discussed the most important thing, and it’s coming up soon.”

Leticia groaned. She flipped her notebook open again and paged through her color-coded, highlighted lists. “We’ve talked about everything I had listed for the day, and we even went over things that have deadlines coming up in the next few days. I don’t see what we’re—”

“The wedding night,” Rosalie purred. “We haven’t discussed that at all.”

There was no mistaking the sparkle in her eyes. Leticia actually blushed, the way she had at Rosalie’s makeup counter the first time they met, when the other woman’s soft words of praise, roughened by the obvious desire in her voice, had gotten Leticia so hot and flushed it had been impossible to identify the correct shade of foundation for her skin tone. She’d been forced to come back later, not that she’d minded.

Now that she’d figured out what Rosalie was hinting at, Leticia played innocent. For all her lover’s passion, her Catholic upbringing had left her with an adorable aversion to using direct language. Leticia loved to watch Rosalie get flustered while trying to explain her naughty desires. She batted her eyelashes and focused on her notes again. “We’ve reserved our hotel room the night of. We’ve got our plane tickets to Puerto Rico for the honeymoon a couple days after that. Everything appears to be in order.”

“The wedding night,” Rosalie said, apparently oblivious to Leticia’s teasing. She rolled her hands through the air, one over the other, the gesture an invitation to take the word “night” and run with it. “The whole reason I wanted an afternoon wedding was so we could have plenty of time together. Afterward. In the hotel.”

“You mean to take a good, long nap? I’m sure we’ll be tired after dealing with all the guests, and coming down from pre-wedding nerves, too.” Leticia couldn’t resist continuing the act.

“Not a nap. But I am talking about what we might do in bed.” Now Rosalie colored, a deep red undertone becoming visible beneath the screen of her makeup.

Leticia composed her face as much as she could manage and shrugged. “Oh, are you talking about sex?” A giggle threatened to slip through at Rosalie’s incredulous, exasperated expression. “I don’t know. I’ve read tons of articles about how people get so exhausted from all the things leading up to a wedding that they don’t even really want to have sex by the time the day is done. We’ll have plenty of time for that later in the honeymoon, won’t we?”

“Don’t even really want to have sex,” Rosalie repeated slowly, as if the phrase was a math problem and she couldn’t quite work it out. Her forehead wrinkled in utter puzzlement. A snort burst from Leticia. Realization dawned on Rosalie’s face. She grabbed a tissue from the box on the table and tossed it at her. They’d both collapsed in giggles by the time the thin paper floated airily to the floor beside Leticia.

Leticia allowed the force of her laughter to pull her off the chair. She crawled the short space to Rosalie’s chair and raised one brown foot to her lips. Leticia did enjoy a little foot worship now and then, but her current mood was far from reverent. Slowly, carefully, she slipped her mouth over Rosalie’s polished big toe. She licked until Rosalie’s breathing changed, confused between laughter and moaning. Then Leticia lifted off the toe and pressed her mouth to the sole of Rosalie’s foot. She inhaled, gripped the ankle tightly, and blew a powerful raspberry.

Rosalie squealed and tried to get away. Leticia smiled but kept up the wet, ticklish vibrations. Rosalie’s foot jerked in her hands. Leticia kept hold easily. She had plenty of practice restraining patients, which happened to have fun applications at home.

Rosalie writhed as she laughed. Leticia drew breath for another raspberry, but cut her eyes up as much as she dared. She didn’t want to miss the sight of her lover, breasts bouncing under her shirt as her rib cage shook, hips rolling as she struggled to get away, face squeezed tight as if to ward off the unbearable sensation of being tickled. Effectively, this previewed Rosalie’s orgasm. Warm arousal spread through Leticia’s body as she forced Rosalie to stay in this state, and as she looked forward to seeing the real thing very soon.

Rosalie rained playful blows onto Leticia’s head. “Why the hell am I marrying you?” It took forever for her to get the sentence out, as she had to gasp each word between shrieking laughs.

Leticia grinned and tugged at her lower legs. Her lover took the hint and rolled out of the chair to join her on the floor. Leticia wrapped her arms around Rosalie, who felt small and hot and curvy. She slipped one hand down to tickle between her ribs, rewarded by another delicious howl. Rosalie shoved at her chest. “You are evil, I swear.”

“I’m sorry,” Leticia said softly, managing to sound sincerely regretful. She kissed Rosalie’s temples with great tenderness, until her lover relaxed and stopped wriggling. Leticia murmured more soothing words, rubbing Rosalie’s back… then licked the side of her face.

Buy Links:
All Romance eBooks
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Barnes and Noble
Kobo
Storm Moon Press

 

Bio:

Annabeth Leong has written erotica of many flavors—dark, romantic, kinky, vanilla, straight, lesbian, bi, and menage. Her lesbian stories have appeared in the Lambda Literary Award-nominated Lesbian Cops, Circlet Press’s love-spell anthology Like Hearts Enchanted, Lovecraftian erotica book Whispers In Darkness, and others. When not writing erotica, she is frequently reading it. She has lived in six states in various parts of the United States, and traveled to most of the others. Annabeth believes passionately in freedom of speech, rights for people of all sexual orientations, and the need for compassionate religion. She loves shoes, stockings, cooking, and excellent bass lines.

 

Tis the Season for Books!

christmas-jingle-bells-thumb17244964Stocking stuffers and holiday treats come in all shapes and sizes this time of year, and if you’re anything like me, there are few things you’d rather find in your stocking than that nice new book you’ve been dying to read. Back in the days before eBooks, back before I married Raymond, I lived with my sister in Oregon for several years. We shared a house and, after not growing up together, finally had the chance to become great friends. For those of you who don’t know, my lovely sister is sixteen years older than I am and she married very young, so my early memories of her are memories of her treating me the same way she treated her own children.

During those few years in Oregon, my sister was just coming off of a nasty divorce and learning to play again. Her kids were grown and she was free for the first time in her life. Because we both had good jobs, we were extravagant and creative at Christmas. Her children lived a long way away and I was single, so we decorated the cat climbing post and used that for our Christmas tree. I had a crazy tuxedo cat named Zeke at the time, who was perfectly happy to sit on top of the carpeted platform above the mounds of gifts surrounded by baubles and tinsle. We skied on Christmas Eve, having the slopes of Mount Bachelor nearly to ourselves, then we went home that evening to unwrap the gifts while Zeke batted around the wrapping paper and hid in the boxes.

Actually, few of the gifts were much of a surprise. We both loved books. There were two book stores in Bend Oregon at the time and we never went there without browsing both.  So as Christmas drew nearer, we both dropped hints about the books we’d really like to read, and then be both sneeked around and found ways to buy those books and keep it secret.

Another family photo updateWhen all the prezzies were unwrapped, we’d sit among the carnage caressing and admiring our respective stacks of new books, trying to decide which to read  first while Zeke once again slept on his perch atop the Christmas Cat Tree. Books have never stopped being a treasure in either of our lives, and I married a man who loves books at least as much as I do. In fact, we sometimes choose a book we both want to read and read it outloud to each other. We did this often in our early days of marriage. Now there’s less time, but we still talk about what we’re reading, and books are still one of the main topics of discussion in our house.

And now those books come to my sister, my husband and me as downloads. Our bookshelves are still full and overflowing and we still love the feel of a real book, but now we collect whole libraries on our kindles. Now we can carry those libraries with us wherever we go. Any book lover who has ever taken a long plane flight knows that the most important part of packing is always deciding which books to take along. Of course that’s still the most important part of packing, but now we don’t have to decide. Now we can take them all!

BTR FINAL IMAGEHoliday Special on Body Temperature and Rising: Vol I Lakeland Heatwave Paranormal Trilogy

This holiday season, Body Temperature and Rising is a great way to stuff that eReader stocking with exotic, erotic paranormal fun. I’m very pleased to share the witches of the Elemental Coven as a special holiday treat — 35 pence in the UK and 57 cents in the US on Amazon.

May your pile of books, whether print or eBook, be high and deep this holiday season, and may you frequently find yourselves lost in th pages of a good story!  Below is a sizzling excerpt from Body Temperature and Rising to help you get lost.

Buy Links:

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Body Temperature and Rising Blurb:

American transplant to the Lake District, MARIE WARREN, didn’t know she could unleash demons and enflesh ghosts until a voyeuristic encounter on the fells ends in sex with the charming ghost, ANDERSON, and night visits from a demon. To help her cope with her embarrassing and dangerous new abilities, Anderson brings her to the ELEMENTALS, a coven of witches who practice rare sex magic that temporarily allows needy ghosts access to the pleasures of the flesh.

DEACON, the demon Marie has unleashed, holds an ancient grudge against TARA STONE, coven high priestess, and will stop at nothing to destroy all she holds dear. Marie and her landlord, the reluctant young farmer, TIM MERIWETHER, are at the top of his list. Marie and Tim must learn to wield coven magic and the numinous power of their lust to stop Deacon’s bloody rampage before the coven is torn apart and more innocent people die.

Body Temperature and Rising Excerpt:

Warning: This excerpt is NOT rated PG

Marie woke burning up. She clawed off the duvet and sat bolt upright as the memories came flooding back and terror clenched her stomach into a tight knot. It was only then that she realized she wasn’t at home. She was sitting naked in the middle of a very large four-poster bed, and Anderson was sitting next to her.

‘Everything is alright now, my darling.’ He placed a cool hand on her cheek, then her forehead. You are safe at Elemental Cottage.’ He didn’t wait for her to ask. ‘Tim Meriwether is also safe and resting under the watchful care of Fiori. He asked to return to Lacewing Farm. As is the case with most of my sex, he is very protective of his territory. Tara and Sky have taken Serina Ravenmoor to a safe place.’

Riding the Ether cover image Final - Copy - CopyOther than the pale moonlight coming in the window, the room was dark. As the events of the night came rushing in on her like a fast moving current, she fought down nausea, then closed her eyes until her insides righted themselves again and she was certain she wouldn’t be sick.

‘I need a shower,’ she forced herself to sound calm. ‘I’m sweaty, and… I feel really dirty.’

‘A cleansing ritual of some fashion after what you have been through, my dear, is not only recommend, it is essential. But are you sure you are recovered enough?’

It was only when she stood by the bathroom door and saw the shower looming in front of her like a gaping mouth that she balked as memories of the last shower she had attempted flooded back to her. Anderson, who was standing next to her with a reassuring hand on her arm, brushed the damp hair away from her ear. ‘I will stay with you if you wish it.’

‘Thank you,’ her voice was breathy and thin, like it too might belong to a ghost. Perhaps she was a ghost. Perhaps Deacon had killed her too and she just hadn’t realized it yet.

With his comforting form fully visible through the clear safety glass of the shower door, she took her time, scrubbed herself hard, and let the tears slide silently down her cheeks as she did so. How was she ever going to survive what she now faced? And even worse, how would Tim survive when it was clear Deacon planned to use them each to the detriment of the other. And worst of all, what she only fully realized as the feel of the water pressure stimulated her skin to a rosy pink hue, the urges and desires that Deacon had kindled in her were still there, and in spite of herself, she couldn’t help wondering what it would have felt like if she had given in, if she had let him pleasure her to release.

She cranked the water to cold and stood in the sluice of it until her teeth were chattering, and still it was as though a million tiny pin pricks were alive just beneath the surface of her skin, as though he were still reminding every single pore in her body how desperately she needed to come.

She was shivering uncontrollably when Anderson opened the shower door and shut off the water, ignoring the splash on his pristine white shirt. ‘It is enough, my love. I cannot allow you to catch your death.’ He bundled her into a huge blue towel and began to dry her goose fleshed skin vigorously. He tisk-tisked. ‘My dear, even when I first take the flesh, I am warmer than you are now. This will never do.’

She tried not to writhe beneath his touch, but the misery of her need was overwhelming. Her lip trembled and in spite of her best effort her eyes misted. ‘I wanted him, Anderson. Dear god, how could I want him?’

Elemental Fire cover image finalHe lifted her open palms and placed a kiss on each where her nails had pierced her hands. ‘You have no idea what you have done, do you, my sweet Marie? Of course you wanted him. That is his magic, to make himself the most desired of men, to make his victims feel in their bodies hunger and lust for him like they have never imagined. Even Fiori, who is a powerful witch, not to be trifled with, gave in, my darling. But you did not. You banished him twice and remained free.’

‘Then why do I feel this way if I’m so special? I feel like I’m on fire, I feel like I’ll explode if I don’t…’ She blushed hard. ‘If I don’t get some relief. And that it’s because of him makes me feel disgusted, and still I want.’

‘Shshsh!’ Anderson stopped her words with a light kiss. ‘He is gone, my love. What you feel is now yours to feel, to use, to transform into your strength. My darling Marie,’ he wiped a single tear from her cheek and lifted her chin so that she met his dark gaze. ‘There are many elements, many facets to sex magic. And what Deacon has afflicted you with, he cannot take from you. It is now yours. And what is now yours, you may freely give to me, you may allow me to ease your need, as you did earlier when the situation was much more desperate. In doing so, we may, together, transform it to pleasure and even to something more powerful still.’ He kissed her palms again. ‘If you will permit me.’

‘Permit you? I would beg, Anderson, if it were necessary.’

He brushed his lips across her ear. ‘My love, it would never in a hundred lifetimes be necessary for you to beg love from me.’

She lifted her arms around his neck. ‘Then please, Anderson. I need you now. I need you to help me.’

He took her mouth deeply, tongue plundering, teeth nipping, lips insisting. Then with a sigh that tasted darkly honeyed, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, where the bed had been mysteriously, perhaps magically, made up with fresh linen. There, he pulled back the duvet, kissing and coaxing her down onto the soft mattress.

His body was shades of silver and shadow in the moonlight, teasing her eyes with glimpses of the hard plain of his belly and the tight half domes of his buttocks. As he shrugged out of his clothes, the shape of him still remained vague and mysterious but exquisitely solid, substantial as he moved onto the bed next to her, his anxious cock leading the way. He dropped a wet, suckling kiss on each of her heavy nipples, causing her to arch her back and grind her ass against the clean sheets.

‘I think we must first give you some much-needed relief.’ He brushed a thumb solicitously against her bulging clitoris, and she whimpered and shifted her hips against his touch ‘The seat of your pleasure is ripe with your desire,’ he said ‘And I have such a fondness for ripe fruit.’ Still stroking the swell of her with his thumb, he slipped two fingers between her pouting labia and the catch of his breath mirrored hers as he gently probed and withdrew and probed again until he found her g-spot and she soaked his hand and nearly bucked off the bed.

He released a deep sigh. ‘You are as wet as the fells in heavy dew, and the feel of you makes my own need almost more than I can contain.

‘Please,’ she moaned. ‘Please.’

He lifted her on top of him, and she could feel his thick erection pressing against the inside of her thigh as he carefully positioned her, stroking her pussy lips, then parting them. She felt the press of the head of his penis against her pout, then his hands on her hips guided her downward onto him and she cried out with exquisite pleasure at the feel of him pushing into her grudging hole, then yielding, then pushing again until the fullness of his erection was completely engulfed in her slippery tightness, and suddenly her thoughts were totally and completely on Anderson and what he was doing with his substantial cock. Then he began to thrust, shifting his hips in such a way that with each thrust he raked against the swell of her clit, sending shock waves of pleasure up through her body as she thrust back.

‘I think we shall not linger long this first time,’ he gasped between barely parted lips. ‘Your need is too great, and mine is little less so. Once we have achieve some measure of relief, there will be all the time we need for pleasuring, and I think we shall need a lot.’  She thought he might be right.

 

A.M. Hartnett Asks the Burning Question: Why Write Erotica?

It’s my pleasure to welcome A.M. Hartnett to A Hopeful Romantic to ask that burning question, why write erotica? And to talk about her novella, Here for a Good Time.

It always give me a chuckle when I see writing blogs tackling the big erotica debate. Not how to write erotica or how to write great sex scenes, but simply whether or not to write erotica at all. Depending on the blog’s audience, it either devolves into an orgy of clutching pearls or high-brow snobbery about those books. Of course, the arrival of The Book That Shall Not Be Named and its sisters has given birth to countless (and, in my opinion, pointless) articles about why women are reading these types of books and why women are writing them.

AM HarnetIf you were to ask me point blank why I write erotica, I’d be completely stumped. Why erotica specifically? I dunno. Somewhere along the way I just gravitated towards the smuttier side of things. Any genre I attempted ended up with explicit sex. Coming of age drama set in the 1920s? Threesome. Small town horror? Ghost sex. Cat and mouse game between a crime boss and a retired policewoman? Yeeeep, rough sex in the attic.

When I finished university and decided to dabble in writing, I discovered the market for erotica. After that, there was never any question as to what I was going to write. So needless to say when I started selling stories in 2006 and found out I was actually good at it, it was a bit of a relief, because it was pretty clear I couldn’t write anything else without filthy sex.

That’s not to say all the rules of storytelling go out the window when things get wet and dirty on paper. You still need to know how to write balanced scenes, even if the end result is an orgasm. You still need believable dialogue. You still need to set the mood. In other words, don’t believe the articles that tell you that you can make a quick buck writing erotica — you still need to know how to write and tell a story.

I tried explaining this to Arts Guy. AG is an online date I once had. We had similar backgrounds — degrees in English and love of books that spawned the need to write. He had seemed thrilled when he discovered I was a published writer, then snorted when he found out what I wrote. AG could come down on my smut all he wanted, but at the end of the day I could walk into my local bookstore and find a book that had my name in it, while he could go home and moan about how the university press wouldn’t recognize him as the next Robertson Davies and publish his angst-ridden shorts all because what he thought storytelling should be.

I may not be able to tell you why I write erotica, but I’m glad that’s the pins and needles path that sprang up in front of me. It’s fun, I’m good at it, and I like to think I don’t waste a reader’s time when they finish something I’ve written. My latest release is Here For A Good Time from Xcite Books. I love the chemistry between my characters Alexis and Chris, and I had a ball writing about the things they got up to when no one was looking. If I decided way back when that I was too good to write erotica, I would have missed out on a lot.

Here for a Good Time Blurb

When Alexis booked her work retreat at The Deveaux, the most she had to look forward to was a bit of spa time on the company dime, but flashy salesman Chris Kendrick has an even better suggestion. For years they’ve had a hot and cold working relationship with a bit of flirting mixed in, and now is the perfect time to get that spark out of their systems.

Three days hopping in and out of beds (and other convenient places) shows Alexis that Kendrick’s smooth demeanour is more than just talk, and that aromatherapy and soft-tissue massages have nothing on Kendrick’s firm hand.

Here for a Good Time Excerpt

‘Excited?’ he asked softly. His tie whisked out of his collar with a low hiss.

‘Unbelievably.’

‘Give me your hands.’

Once more she did as he asked, and nothing in her life to that point had turned her on more than watching him bind her wrists with his tie.

He studied her as he tightened the knot, his brow crooked. ‘You ever been done like this?’

‘A time or two,’ she admitted in a puff of air. Three times to be exact, but she couldn’t recall being this hot the last time she put herself at the mercy of a lover.

‘Colour me surprised.’ He made a loop at the end, and then guided her arms up and hooked her.

‘After the way I pounded you this morning, I figured you liked a bit of rough stuff.’

Standing so close, his every movement made his clothes rustle against her, teasing her nipples into hard peaks while he unzipped himself. The moment she looked down, he caught her under the chin.

‘Eyes forward.’

The tip of his cock, slick with precome, brushed her belly. Alexis itched to get her hands on him, to wrap her lips around that thickness and suck him until he gave her something to swallow, but she’d allowed herself to be putty in his hands and there was nothing to do but relent.

It was easy to do. She could practically feel the hum of energy in her blood as he ran his hands all over her body. His gaze never left hers. It was as though he was daring her to give him a reason to rebuke her.

Buy Here for a Good Time here:

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Find A.M. Hartnett Here

Web: www.amhartnett.com 

Twitter: www.twitter.com/amhartnett

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/annemarie.hartnett

About A.M. Hartnett

A.M. Hartnett began writing in 2006 and has published more than thirty short stories. Her work has appeared in more than a dozen anthologies, including Cleis Press’s Sudden Sex: 69 Sultry Short Stories (Ed. Alison Tyler), and The Big Book of Orgasm: 69 Sexy Stories (Ed. Rachel Kramer Bussel). She has also written three novellas and a novel as Annemarie Hartnett. For more information on her publications, please visit www.amhartnett.com 

 

 

Kay Jaybee is Kinking Up Christmas!

It’s always a pleasure to have my dear friend and fab writer, Kay Jaybee over, and nobody does Christmas quite like Kay does. Kay, get us into the kinky Christmas spirit!

 

I love writing Christmas stories. There is something about playing with tinsel, spices and the office Christmas party that brings out the kinkster in me…

Christmas KinkChristmas Kink is a collection of five erotic stories penned especially for the festive season.

Blurb-

What’s your favourite part of the Christmas celebration? Decorating the tree with tinsel, the heavenly aroma of cinnamon and fruit from Christmas cakes and puddings, the office Christmas party, a visit to Santa’s grotto, the presents?

Kay Jaybee’s Christmas Kink twists all of these festive traditions into five individual episodes of hot erotica that will leave you fanning yourself with the nearest Christmas card…

Over the past 9 years I’ve written an annual Christmas story- and this year I decided (with a lot of help from my friends) to self publish a few of my past seasonal tales, plus a brand new one- The Little Red Dress.

Romantic, steamy, with a touch of S&M, and a sprinkling of cinnamon (yes, really) – I hope I’ve managed to add a little Christmas kink into this anthology for everyone…

Here’s a little taster…

Santa’s Little Helper

Jay gazed approvingly at her reflection in the tinsel decorated mirror. The gold material shimmered as she turned from side-to-side. Cut to fit tightly against her chest, the bodice section gave way to an extremely short, almost tutu style skirt, of the finest silvery gauze.

Her fingers trailed through the soft folds before she reached around to stroke the feather like wings that protruded from her back.

The fabric curtain was drawn back and the sales assistant drew breath. ‘You are possibly the most beautiful fairy ever destined to top a Christmas tree.’ He pulled the ties tighter at the back of the bodice, forcing Jay to stand up taller. ‘You are also the sexiest.’ He pushed two exquisite high-heeled shoes towards her white stocking clad feet, enjoying the view as her tiny gold thong flashed in front of his eyes when she bent slightly to slip them on.

As a final touch he slid a delicate glittering tiara onto her short curled hair, and put a wand in her hand. ‘Now, all that’s missing is a smile.’

‘I am smiling.’

‘That’s not a smile, that’s the evil grin of a wicked slut who knows that every guy that claps eyes on you is going to be asking Santa Claus if he can screw you for Christmas.’

Jay laughed.

‘I was thinking you could go for the child friendly smile. After all, you’re supposed to be Santa’s Little Helper at one of the department stores right?’

Jay nodded, and tried to wipe the lust off her face. Not easy when she felt so damn horny dressed like an expensive tree decoration. She thanked the assistant, paid the costume hire charge and, wrapping a large black cloak around her shoulders, left the shop for her place of work.

The shop assistant had been right, she was to be Santa’s Little Helper, but this was not a grotto for children; his joke had been closer to the truth than he’d thought. As Jay reached ‘Spanks’, the club she’d worked in for two years, she slipped into one of the back rooms, and into the discreetly advertised grotto.

Santa, already dressed in his traditional red and white, with huge false beard and hat in place, stared at her with giveaway young eyes as she hung up her cloak. He didn’t say anything, but slipped a gloved hand up her skirt and slowly stroked the tops of her legs. Jay purred at him, enjoying the sensations for a few seconds before moving away.

It was show time.

The queue was fairly small, but as visits to Santa had been by appointment only, this was not a surprise.

After the first five men had sat on Santa’s lap and asked to have their Christmas wishes granted, for which they had already paid handsomely, Jay was glad to have a break. She needed a drink to remove the taste of condom and sweat from the three blow jobs she’d given, and needed to calm her own rising desire after the last two guys activities.

They had visited Santa together, sitting on a knee each, they’d requested an intimate examination of her chest. Santa had obliged, removed his gloves and undid her bodice, revealing her bare tits. The visitors fell on a breast each, both using their given five minutes to gorge on her, and feel up as much of her body as they could.

Jay knew that she had at least four more customers to grant wishes to before she could even think about her own satisfaction, but her tits, now firmly secured back behind the gold fabric, nagged at her for more attention, and she knew that she was far more tuned on than was professional.

Santa stuck his head around the door. ‘Five minutes honey.’

She nodded and took another sip of water.

He paused, ‘Do you think you’ll make it? I’ve never seen you so horny, I can practically smell you?’

‘Shit, it’s this outfit. I’ll be fine.’

‘We have a little time. I could help.’

‘Santa, what do you mean?’ Jay adopted a little girl voice and fluttered her eyelashes provocatively.

‘I mean, my dear little fairy, that it’s time you had a quick turn on my knee.’

****

If you’d like to see what Santa did next, or you fancy dipping into the other stories- Decorations, Cake Mix, Candy at Christmas or The Little Red Dress- you can buy Christmas Kink on Amazon at-

Amazon US
Amazon UK

Many thanks for letting me pop by today K D!

And an early Merry Christmas to you all!

Kay xx

 

Bio-

Kay Jaybee wrote the novels The Retreat (Xcite, 2013), Making Him Wait, (Sweetmeats Press, 2012), The Voyeur (Xcite, 2012), and The Perfect Submissive (Xcite 2012). She also write the novellas, Not Her Type (2nd ed. 1001 NightsPress, 2013), Digging Deep (Xcite, 2013), A Sticky Situation, (Xcite, 2012), and The Circus, (Sweetmeats Press), and the anthologies Christmas Kink (KDP, 2013) The Collector (Austin & Macauley, 2012), The Best of Kay Jaybee (Xcite, 2012), Tied to the Kitchen Sink, Equipment, (All Romance, 2012), Yes Ma’am (Xcite e-books, 2011), Quick Kink One and Two (Xcite e-books, 2010). Details of Kay’s work can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk

 
© 2018 K D Grace
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