Tag Archives: erotic romance

Life in the Land by Rebecca Cohen

Life in the LandBlurb

The magic of the Sawyer family’s extremely green thumbs comes straight from the land. But Bobby Sawyer’s expected superpowers don’t become a reality until he kisses his best friend, Mike Flint. That kiss moves the earth—literally.

When Bobby moves to the city, leaving Mike behind, Bobby keeps his green thumb nimble by working in a garden center and uses his superpowers to help fight crime. He’s on a mission when a bomb explodes, leaving him seriously injured, forcing him to return to the family farm—the source of his strength—to recuperate.

While attempting to recover, Bobby realizes Mike is still the love of his life. But Mike is leery: Bobby left him once before. What if all Bobby needs is one more magical kiss?

 

Short Excerpt from Life in the Land

The distant hum of a tractor’s engine and a few notes of birdsong were the only noises, and once again Bobby’s chest filled with heart-clenching disappointment. His eyes prickled, and he tried to hold back the tears, but he couldn’t. Large, wet tracks raced down his cheeks, and he leaned forward and rested his head and arms on his knees as he sobbed, pent-up disappointment and salty worries splashing into the soil.

“Please don’t cry, Bobby.”

Mike’s eyes were large and imploring, and Bobby was so miserable at his lack of progress that he just wanted something to hold on to. He leaned forward and tentatively brushed his lips to Mike’s in the gentlest of kisses. With a soft sigh, Mike kissed back in the same chaste way.

There was a tremor beneath him, a mild shake that made his whole body vibrate. They sprang apart, both staring wide-eyed at the dirt as they tried to work out what could be causing the disturbance.

Bobby’s jaw dropped. Before his eyes two of the large roots pulled themselves free of the ground, clods of soil falling from the delicate rootlets as they reached out to him.

With an undignified yelp, Bobby fell backward and scrambled away, but a soft rumble from the oak made him stop. It was reassurance, a call for calm, and he knew then everything was okay.

Buy links:

Dreamspinner Press
Amazon.com
Amazon.co.uk
All Romance eBooks

 

Author Bio:

Rebecca Cohen is a Brit abroad. Having swapped the Thames for the Rhine, she has left London behind and now lives with her husband and baby son in Basel, Switzerland. She can often be found with a pen in one hand and a cup of Darjeeling in the other.

Blog: http://rebeccacohenwrites.wordpress.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/R_Cohen_writes

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rebecca.cohen.710

Guest Blogger: Kacey Hammell

WMS_blogtourSetting goals are always important. Here’s the top 5 that I am shooting for the most…

  1. Own my own Mustang one day – okay so this has nothing to do with writing exactly, but in a way it does. I’ve been inspired by Mustangs to write the Revved & Ready series! *g*
  2. Meet 3 of the most inspiring authors I’ve read since I was in my teens, whose work has always given me a place to turn to and escape the world. Those 3 authors are – Nora Roberts/JD Robb, Sandra Brown & Suzanne Brockmann (I have the chance to meet Suz at RT Convention in New Orleans next year. Keep your fingers crossed for me!)
  3. Win an award for my writing. Perhaps someday I can add “award winning author” to my taglines. *g*
  4. Publish with another author. I’m always in awe of writers who can pen a story together. I’d love to accomplish this one day.
  5. Visit Ireland and write a story/series set in such a gorgeous place.

’69 MUSTANG

By Kacey Hammell

Book 1: Revved and Ready Series

Contemporary Erotic Romance

ISBN: 9780987799319

Word Count: 4,415 Short Story

Only $0.99 cents!!!

69 MustangRevved and Ready for passion, heat sizzles between two friends…

For Hayley Fitzgibbon, the heat wave blanketing her small town is nothing compared to the inferno inside her whenever she looks at her best friend, Rory. On the night of his parents’ anniversary party, she no longer resists her burning desire and makes it known how much she wants him. Secluded under a willow tree, down a lover’s lane, she’s revved and ready to claim her man on the top of his ’69 Mustang.

 

Excerpt © Kacey Hammell, 2013:

“The party was fantastic, Rory. Your parents looked so happy.” Hayley Fitzgibbon shifted in the front seat of the black ’69 Ford Mustang her long-time best friend owned since he turned twenty-one. She’d come to love it as much as he did, how it handled. It still hummed like it had when brand new. No car was sexier to her. Mustangs, especially the classic ’69 had lines that were slick, masculine and just screamed fast and hardcore. The vibration from the engine tingled through the back of her thighs and buttocks causing a delicious thrill through her body. “Thanks for driving me home. It was a great celebration. I can’t believe your parents have been married fifty years.”

“Yeah. It’s practically unheard of these days.” Rory clicked on his blinker then turned right. “They really seemed to like the gift Max and I got them. You think so?”

She nodded and brushed the white shrug off her shoulders. The heat wave spreading through Belleville, Ontario had reached staggering levels in the last couple of days. The air conditioning in the car barely cooled her skin. Plus being such an enclosed space alone with him after hours of dancing, soft touches as they mingled and were less than five feet away from one another all night had her on edge. “Of course they did. Who wouldn’t want to take a three-week cruise around the Caribbean? I’ll be sure to remind you and your brother of your generosity for my next birthday.”

He laughed and winked. “You’d have to be a very, very good girl.”

I’ll show you just how good I can be. Hayley pushed the thought away. For weeks she’d been having the same dream over and over. The erotic fantasies starring herself and Rory had left her breathless every time she woke, sweating and panting. It was all she thought about anymore. Images of the two of them having hot, sweaty sex—anywhere and everywhere—consumed her day and night. She trembled, flashes of heat zinging along her spine. Heart racing, she drew in a deep breath.

He captivated her in so many new ways these days. His kindness had always been there, but lately, she’d smile if mentioned helping an elderly lady get her groceries to the car. And the way he talked about himself, she got upset and angry. He complained about being a ginger, especially in the summer when he burned easily, but she loved his unique looks. Kind of geeky and studious mixed with sexiness and cute buoyancy he didn’t realize he possessed. She disliked hearing him put himself down.

How were any of her new reactions possible? They’d been best friends forever, and had shared all their secrets with one another.

Maybe the intense and potent way he looked at her now. At times when she’d glance at him, she’d catch darkness and smoldering heat in his eyes that made it difficult to breathe. Was it because she’d slimmed down over the last eight or nine months. She didn’t want to think about him like that, knew deep down that he wasn’t that shallow. But he had been giving her the eye lately, passion-filled stolen glances. Since then, the air around them had shifted.

He hadn’t hidden his reaction to her tonight when he’d picked her up for his parents’ anniversary party either.  Rory’s normally soft hazel eyes had turned a golden rich hue, and when she walked out of her bedroom, he’d let his gaze roam over her body. She knew she looked great in the bright blue satin, off-one-shoulder, mid-thigh gown that really made the azure in her eyes pop. Perhaps he agreed. His breath had hitched, his hands shook as he’d helped her with her shrug. His touch had lingered on her shoulders longer than needed. The warmth from his palms scalded against her already hot skin. He’d stood inches behind her, smoothing his hands down her back, and electricity tingled through her body, filling her with sudden fervor and desperation to feel his embrace. And make some of those naughty dreams she’d been having come true.

“You’ll be what, thirty-seven in a couple months, Hales? Maybe we should plan a cruise or something awesome for your fortieth? You’d look amazing in a skimpy bikini you know. Maybe a nude beach?”

The sound of Rory’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She gulped and cleared her dry throat. “Um, yeah. Sure.” The air in the vehicle was nearly smothering.

“Hey.” He laid a hand on her thigh. Hayley gasped. Heat shot along the skin, hitting her straight to her pussy. Her pulse raced. “It’s like you’re in another world. You okay?”

“Of course,” Trying to mask her nerves, she laughed away his concern. “Fine. Just warm in here.” And I want you. So bad.

 

BUY LINKS:
Book Page

 

Kacey HammellAvid Reader. Romance Author. Redhead…

Canadian-born author, Kacey Hammell is definitely a book-a-holic, who began reading romances at a young age and became easily addicted.  These days, as a multi-published erotic romance author, she enjoys adding a lot of heat, sass and emotion to the Contemporary Romances she writes.

A mom of three, Kacey has made certain each of her children know the value of the written word and the adventures they could escape on by becoming book-a-holics in their own right. She lives her own happily ever after with her perfect hero in Ontario, Canada, and is a true romantic at heart.

Connect with Kacey…

Website / Facebook / Facebook Author Page / Twitter / Amazon / Goodreads / Pinterest / Instagram

 

Giveaway:

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L.C. Wilkinson’s Hot New Novel, All of Me, is A Part of Her

The Story Behind The Story

It’s a question a lot of authors get asked: How did you come to write the story; what was your inspiration? For me, the interesting thing is that whatever the inspiration, once the story has been set in motion it more often than not takes on a life of its own and the finished narrative can be quite different to the original idea. The roots are there, if you dig deep enough, but the tree itself has a different canopy to one first imagined. Here’s my attempt to unearth the seeds of All of Me.

In the late 1990s, when I worked as an actress, I did a tour of Italy. While it wasn’t the high point of my acting career (though career makes it sound grander than it actually was) it was a fantastic and magical experience. Later, when children came along and I’d moved into writing words for a living rather than saying them on stage, friends and colleagues often said I should write about my time in Italy. It would make a great story, they said. I wasn’t convinced. Location has always been important in my work – it affects tone, pace, rhythm, language – but in itself it doesn’t a story make. But showbiz people are interesting; they tend towards the dramatic (unsurprisingly), so whilst I didn’t water this narrative seed, I didn’t dig it up either, to continue the metaphor.

I wrote other stuff: short stories, flash fiction, novels. Alongside fiction, raising my boys and a part-time job in education, I work as an editor, freelance and for Cornerstones Literary Consultancy. Last year, I edited some MSs described as erotic romance and thought that I’d like to have a go at writing in the genre myself. A female character, an actress – one who would go on to become Flick Burrows – had been rattling around my imagination for some time. She was successful – a soap opera star – and driven. An unconventional beauty from a difficult, disadvantaged childhood, she owed her success to hard work and determination. And she was no ingénue.

Because of my background, I understand how tough it can be for actresses facing 40 and I started wondering how challenging it might be if a younger, much younger, man was interested in Flick. On the one hand, the industry is telling her she’s past it; her leading lady days are numbered and there’s a wilderness period before one is old enough to play the ‘hag’; on the other hand, a young man – a rich, clever, sexy man – is telling her she is hot, fascinating and utterly irresistible. Putting my leading lady in a glass house, via her career, would exacerbate the sense of fading desirability that many women feel approaching middle age. The sense that they need to carve out a new role for themselves. It was at this point the Italian backdrop appeared on the stage that was becoming All of Me. In another country – Flick is a Londoner – she is free to reinvent herself, behave atypically and the glamour, beauty, and let’s face it, sheer sexiness of Italy was perfect.

All of MeThe theatrical tour provides the structure of the novel; the different locations and theatres marking the progression of the tour and of Flick and Orlando’s relationship. And because of my own life experience I needed to do little research on the world of the theatre and many areas of Italy, though I had to do some, of course, because of the passage of time. The real life tour did begin in Milan, before moving south to Sicily and working its way up the boot of Italy before finishing in Sardinia. However, because fiction is life without the dull bits (the quote is attributed to legendary film maker Alfred Hitchcock [replacing fiction with drama], or Clive James depending on where you look) the tour in All of Me visits many more glamorous locations than I did – Venice, Verona, Florence, for example – and takes place principally in the summertime (as opposed to the grimmer winter months). And the characters and their dilemmas are far removed from my own.

Flick’s dark past was inspired by so many people’s stories. Sadly, we hear similar tales almost every day on the news and in the papers. Similarly Orlando’s, though perhaps to a lesser degree than Flick’s. And once I knew Flick’s desires and demons, and I’d set the stage, the story near enough wrote itself. The origins date back 15 years, but All of Me was written quickly; at least by my standards. It took 11 weeks. Other works have taken two years. It is perhaps unfashionable to say this, but it is the truth. I had such fun writing Flick and Orlando’s story that for a while I thought it couldn’t be any good. I only hope that readers enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Excerpt for All of Me:

 Mr Hot led me through to a brightly lit room, the light scorching my eyes after near darkness. He pulled up a wooden stool and gestured for me to sit. I did as I was instructed. Row upon row of bottles of oil, condiments, herbs and spices lined shelves that covered an entire wall. It was a store cupboard, and the strip lighting was harsh; every fine line, blemish and open pore would be visible. Inwardly, I cursed my lack of foundation once more. I felt exposed, stripped right down, and vulnerable. I shielded my eyes, allowing my hand to drop low enough to conceal most of my face.

‘Better here, fewer people. Can I get you a drink? Cup of tea?’ he said.

‘Something stronger might be better.’ I attempted to cover my embarrassment with humour. He did not laugh, or even smile. ‘Water would be great. Wouldn’t do to be seen drunk. Imagine what they’d make of that,’ I added quickly.

Through a gap in my fingers I watched him push open swing doors with considerable force and sashay out, revealing the bustle of a hectic lunchtime kitchen; he barked out an instruction in a language I couldn’t quite place. Italian probably, possibly Spanish. This was no ordinary waiter in more ways than one. He returned moments later.

Despite his blistering good looks, or maybe because of them, I wanted to get the hell out of there; I gulped down the water. ‘Thank you. Can you show me the other way out now please?’

‘It’s not too soon?’

‘I have to be somewhere.’

At the exit, he paused and looked into my eyes, the hazel fading to black as his pupils dilated. He ran his tongue over those sensual lips. I couldn’t breathe and for a moment I thought I might pass out. The attraction I’d felt was mutual; he was devouring me with his gaze; his desire was palpable. Had it been a movie, or an episode of the cheap drama I’d been in, we’d have thrown ourselves at each other, kissed passionately, before being interrupted by an angry chef brandishing a meat knife. I coughed; it broke the spell.

He leant forward to grab the door handle, the bouquet of his aftershave mingling with a distinct, very masculine aroma. I was soooo tempted, but this was real life, and my personal life was enough of a mess. He opened the door, leant forward to look up and down the street before turning back to me and nodding that it was clear. Neither of us knew what to say. I had no idea if he knew, understood, or even cared why the press were hounding me, and I wasn’t inclined to explain.

I held out my hand. ‘Thank you. You saved my life.’

He took my hand, but rather than shaking it, as I had intended, he lifted it to his mouth and kissed the back. A charge raced up my arm, exploding in my mouth and groin. ‘It was nothing. Anyone would have done the same.’

‘Thanks anyway,’ I gasped. I had to get out of there, and quick. My internal red light was flashing: danger, danger, danger.

I stepped into the street and, unsure which direction to take, turned right and walked; the skin on my hand still thrumming from the touch of his lips. I wanted to look back, and tried desperately to resist the urge. After a few metres, I gave up and turned my head. There was no sign of him.

Blurb: Actress Flick Burrow’s career is in the doldrums. Dumped by long-term boyfriend at the altar and nudging forty she escapes to Italy touring with a theatrical company.

Orlando Locatelli is a successful businessman. He’s rich, clever and drop-dead gorgeous.

When the two meet, the attraction is instant. But Orlando is 15 years Flick’s junior; he’s the controlling director’s son; his stepmother is possessive and destructive. He’s trouble and he’s determined to have her.

Sparks fly when a tour romance turns into something altogether more dangerous, threatening to reveal pasts, and desires, both lovers are keen to bury.

All of Me is published by Xcite in paperback and e-book formats.

You can buy All of Me here:

Amazon.co.uk

Ebook

Print

Amazon.com

eBook

Print

Xcite Books

eBook

Print

Laura L C Wlikinsonone eyeAbout L.C.:

L.C. grew up in north Wales and now she lives by the sea in Brighton with three fellas (her ginger sons and her husband) and a cat called Sheila. After many years working as a journalist, copywriter and editor of hagsharlotsheroines.com, she writes fiction and works part-time as an editor for Cornerstones Literary Consultancy. All of Me is her first romance for Xcite. She hopes that it is the first of many.

To find out more about L. C. visit her site – www.lcwilkinson.com – for news and freebies. Or follow her on Twitter: @ScorpioScribble You’ll also find her GoodReads, and she loves to hear from readers and other writers so do get in touch.

First and Ten: Let the Games Begin by Destiny Blaine

Champagne Book Group and Destiny Blaine team up to bring sports romance readers a new line of sports romance novellas

Coming to Champagne Book Group and Carnal Passions on September 2, 2013

 

First and TenFirst and Ten: Let the Games Begin

“A Swinging Gate Sports Romance”

Tagline/Logline:   In love and romance, true winners are only determined by how long their hearts stay invested in the game.

Back cover blurb:

Football superstar Kemper Kapertone is caught in a compromising position. Thrust into a media frenzy, Kemper flies across the country hoping to save a relationship now shattered beyond repair.

Tired of waiting on the sidelines, Kara Ball decides the role of jilted lover doesn’t work for her. Kara springs into action and pursues her sexy neighbor, an irresistible Dom who is twenty-seven years her senior and the object of her most recent fantasies.

Zak Stone stops by Kara’s condominium to drop off a parcel, but after the sexy seductress learns of her boyfriend’s engagement, plans change.  Soon, Kara opens up a package filled with illicit toys and the naughty ideas start churning.

While Kemper races against time to set things right, Kara invites Zak to stay overnight, hoping an evening of passion will keep him coming back for more. Fortunately for Kara, Zak is only interested in playing for keeps.

Half page teaser:

“Are you in the business of fooling around with younger women?” she asked, working a strut like he’d never seen from her before. Leaning over to pick up the handcuffs she’d deliberately—and obviously—dropped, she wiggled her behind.

He swore under his breath, wishing he could set aside his morals for one night and take her in his arms and hold her there until he taught her a few things about Domination and submission. He’d show her why a Dominant man needed a submissive woman. He’d teach her how to willingly submit and make her understand that through her submission, she would know empowerment. She would experience a new level of intimacy.

“I’ve only been with Kemper,” she told him, acting as if her revelation was the best news he’d received in over a decade.

In fact, he would’ve preferred it then if she’d confessed to promiscuous behavior.

“You’re hurting,” he reminded her, reading entirely too much into her confession. “I’m here and you have a wounded heart, a torn soul. I can’t heal you, Kara.”

How did he tell her he didn’t want to heal her? How did he explain that while he wanted to kiss it and make it better, curing her wasn’t on his mind. He wanted to claim her. And if claimed her, he fully intended to keep her.

How did a man tell a woman that?

She took a step toward him. He took one step back.  She shot him this funny little look, crossed her arms, and for a minute, he could’ve sworn she was about to strip her shirt over her head.

He willed her to stop even though his body had already reached a decision, drawn all conclusions.

One touch and she was his. One gesture to indicate she fully intended to invite him to stay and he would give in to the long awaited temptation, the attraction he could not deny.

She moved toward him again, taking three short calculated steps as if she had deliberately analyzed the best way to separate their distance just as she’d done earlier when they’d been downstairs on her sofa.

“I can’t take his place, Kara. I can’t make the hurt go away.”

“You can try.”

Rated R Excerpt:

A door slammed and her eyes popped open. “Oh my God.”

Zak quickly pulled out, resting his forehead on her back as if he needed a moment to gain his bearings. “What the hell is he doing here?” His voice was dangerously low.

Kara shuddered. Her ragged breath came out in spurts.

How much had they heard? Worse still, how long had they stood there and watched her in the throes of pleasure, in the clutches of passion?

Carly turned away. Kemper looked at her dead on.

Zak scurried to his feet. “Don’t you believe in knocking?”

“Kara?” The color washed out of Carly’s face when she turned to the room once more. “What were you thinking?”

A hoarse cry fell from Kara’s chest. “What the hell are you two doing here?”

“I should ask you the same thing,” Kemper said.

“As if you have a right!” Kara’s blazing fury shook through her body. To make matters worse she was still tied and bound, slumped in a doggie-style position on the contraption Kemper had sent her as a gift.

All things considered, it probably wasn’t the best time to let him know how much she appreciated his thoughtfulness, even though she was tempted.

Zak stood in front of her with his hands blocking his cock. “Can you give us a minute?”

“What the hell are you doing to my girlfriend?” Kemper stalked him then.

Kara tried to wiggle one way or another in an effort to free herself. “Why aren’t you on your honeymoon?”

“Psht!” Carly exclaimed, though she didn’t bother with a true reply.

Kemper clenched his fists and glared at Zak. “If I were you, buddy, I’d get lost.”

“I’d listen to him,” Carly said.

Kara grabbed an opportunity to glare at her best friend. “Just who are you to tell us what to do?”

“The friend who loves you,” Carly assured her. “I’m concerned about you, Kara. Clearly, you aren’t thinking straight.”

“I’ve never been so sure and confident in my life,” she snapped, turning her attention to Zak. “Don’t go, Sir.”

“What?” Carly and Kemper chimed in together.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” Zak said, grabbing his towel and wrapping it around his waist before pulling a sheet off the bed and covering Kara’s body. Dipping his hands under the coverlet, he blindly fumbled with the shackles in an effort to free her. “The two of you should wait downstairs. We weren’t expecting company at four-thirty in the morning.”

“We?” Kemper pushed by Zak and glared at Kara. “And what is this Sir shit?”

Kara glared at Carly and thinned her lips, silently pleading with her friend to take Kemper and go. Instead of aiding her, Carly asked, “What in the hell is that doohickey you’re wearing?”

Kemper bit out, “I sent her all these things so she would get used to the idea of Domination and submission!”

Carly scowled. “You?” She shoved her balled fists against her waist. “You didn’t get very much bang for your buck now did ya?” She glanced around the room. “How’d all this work out for you, babe? Hmm?”

Kemper’s face turned blood red. “I think she’s got the hang of it.”

“Considering I don’t receive gifts like these and I’m the one who loves the lifestyle, maybe you should ask yourself if you gave the right presents to the right woman. If I’d been in a contraption like that, you can bet your sweet ass you would’ve been the one coming in from behind!” Carly threw up her arms and stormed out of the room.

Kemper ignored Carly and stood over Kara, acting as if he were taking in the whole scene. “Have you been seeing one another long?”

“No.” Zak supplied the answer.

“I didn’t ask you!” Kemper never looked away from Kara.

“Obviously not,” Kara bit out. “The package just arrived today.”

“Be a gentleman and wait downstairs for us,” Zak said.

“I am not talking to you!” Kemper yelled, his muscles bulging around his short sleeves. He acted as if he were seconds away from taking that first swing.

Kemper had always been slow to anger, but when that ugly beast rose to the fore, he went berserk. She didn’t want to witness a fight. She just wanted Kemper and Carly to go.

“Please wait downstairs.” Kara couldn’t believe this was happening. “Please.”

“Why would you do this?” Kemper dragged his hand from forehead to chin. The slow act brought on a noticeable transformation. A furious expression replaced the face of betrayal and confusion.

Zak placed his hand on his shoulder. “You heard the lady. She wants you to wait—”

“Get your hands off me!” Kemper screamed, shrugging away from him. “You don’t want to go up against me, buddy!”

“She wants you to wait downstairs and you can do that now or I can call the police. Take your pick.”

Kemper laughed and another demeanor emerged, one Kara hadn’t seen in the past. He glared at her like he saw straight through her. “He doesn’t know. Does he?”

“Know what exactly?” Zak knelt next to her again and finished unbuckling the restraints. He helped her to her feet. “What don’t I know?”

Kara met Zak’s curious gaze, but she couldn’t speak. She knew what Kemper wanted her to tell him, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. If she voiced them then, she would feel like such a kept woman.

She studied Kemper and gauged his behavior. That was precisely what he wanted her to feel like in that very moment—a kept woman, somebody’s whore, and his little puppet.

Slow to regain her balance, she grabbed the bedpost and held the white linen sheet to her chest. Her bottom was sore with the recent reminder of what she’d done and with whom.

Both men stood side by side. She couldn’t hide from either of them. She couldn’t run, because where would she go? Carly returned to the room with her arms crossed. She was equally pissed, but Kara couldn’t figure out why.

At the moment, Kara didn’t care. Carly had known she was infatuated with her neighbor. Hadn’t she suspected something like this would eventually happen?

“She won’t tell you, so I will,” Kemper said, stomping across the room to the walk-in closet. Swinging the door wide, he shook his finger inside. “Those clothes are my clothes. This is my bedroom. This is my condo.” He swung around and waved his finger in Kara’s direction. “And that woman—regardless of what happened here—is my fucking woman!”

Buy Links:

Carnal Passions

Amazon

Biography:

International bestselling e-book and trade paperback author Destiny Blaine writes in all genres using several pseudonyms. Destiny lives in East Tennessee with her husband and four pampered dogs. Her daughter is in college and her son is serving in the United States Navy. For more information, visit her website at www.destinyblaine.com and follow her on Twitter at www.Twitter.com/DestinyBlaine or Facebook. To access her street team information, visit The Wild Pack.

Lucy Felthouse and Lily Harlem Talk Co-Authoring

Lucy FelthouseLucy’s thoughts…

I’ve been published for a few years now, mainly in the short story arena, though I have novellas available and others contracted, as well as a novel coming later in the year. I always keep my eye on what’s out there, what’s coming soon, how people are working, their achievements, and so on. And one thing that’s caught my eye several times has been co-authoring. To me, it looked like a brilliant way to work on a project with someone, have fun and then end up with a piece of work at the end of it. But I admit I didn’t really understand how it worked, so it just bubbled away in the back of my mind, and I didn’t do anything about it.

However, towards the back end of 2012, my good friend and fellow writer Lily Harlem suggested co-authoring something together. I explained I had a few projects on, so I couldn’t start right away, but I would definitely be interested. She was busy too, so we said we’d start in the early part of 2013, when all the Christmas and New Year festivities were over and done with, and life was back to normal.

The writing bug bit Lily, however, and in December she sent me a chapter that had just come to her, so she’d written it down. I managed to read it quickly, but knew I still wouldn’t be able to do anything with it until January. I was eager to try out co-authoring, but other commitments had to take priority.

Then 2013 arrived. I’d cleared my commitments and was free to start something new – hurrah! I read the chapter again and then bombarded Lily with a million and one questions about the process of co-authoring, how she thought it would work, our intended publisher, and so on. I was very lucky in that a) Lily had co-authored many times before so knew how it worked b) she was very, very patient with me and answered all my questions c) that our writing styles are quite similar, so that although we wrote from separate character viewpoints, our respective sections would still fit together well and d) we know each other well enough to give constructive and honest feedback that will be truly helpful, rather than trying to sugar coat anything for the sake of being nice.

And so we began. The chapter Lily had written back in December was from the female perspective and I was happy to write from the male perspective. I’ve done it many times before and enjoy it very much. We’d already agreed that if things didn’t work out, we wouldn’t worry too much about it, so I opened the document and began to write without thinking too hard. We had no plan, no idea what on earth the book was going to be about, really, just that it would be an erotic romance. Despite this, the words came. Fast.

After writing a chapter of roughly the same length as Lily’s, I skim read it and sent it back to her. And thus the mad email exchange began. Prior to this project I’d only written one full-length novel by myself and found it a learning curve, albeit it a fun and very satisfying project, but often I had to force myself to carry on and not procrastinate. With this book, however, it was totally different. It was full of surprises – because we hadn’t planned it, the chapters we sent back to one another were a total surprise, and we both had to think on our feet to work out where the plot would go next. We’d agreed not to rush one another for chapters as we both had other things on, too, and although we didn’t pressure one another, we still produced the words at lightning speed (for me, anyway!). I grew eager to read Lily’s next chapter, to see where the characters – which I’d quickly grown very fond of – would go next, what they would do. There was very, very little procrastination! None, really. Just lots of use of Google Street View.

The only thing we’d really planned was that the book would be longer than 50,000 words – to make it novel length. We did discuss how it would end, but never made a set decision, we just decided to keep writing and hope it came to a natural conclusion. We agreed that because Lily had written the first chapter, that I would write the last. That was the only time throughout the project that I felt pressure – and it was from myself, not my co-author. I had to write the last chapter, therefore the ending, therefore it had to be good, and satisfying! I put my fingers to the keys of my laptop and hoped that what came out would be good. When I finished the final chapter I read it again and made tweaks, then decided that no benefit would come of me staring at it – so I sent it to Lily. And waited with baited breath for her reply.

She loved it!! She even said that it made her cry. Naturally, I was incredibly relieved that she liked it – and the fact it made her cry was a huge bonus. Poor Lily was suffering with a bad cold at the time so she wasn’t feeling her best, but I decided to take the compliment anyway. And voilà – our novel, which had been through what felt like a bazillion title changes throughout the writing process, was finished. We smashed our 50k minimum and ended up with 70,000 words, roughly. In five weeks (with me even doing two chapters in one day – one in the morning, then one in the late afternoon as Lily sent hers back in the early afternoon) we penned a novel that we were both absolutely delighted with, and characters we adored.

Next, we made ourselves leave it alone for a while. We both agreed that jumping in with edits and polishing too soon wouldn’t help. We’d made comments on each other’s chapters as we went along, asking for clarification of certain points or even just saying parts had made us “LOL” and that helped immensely. So much so that after our waiting period, we didn’t change very much at all.

Then came the discussion on submission. We’d had a publisher in mind all along – Ellora’s Cave – and we submitted to them. Thankfully, they said yes. Cue much happy dancing from Lily and I! As we waited for news, we had a bit of a debrief and agreed we’d both loved the process and were amazed at how quickly the book had come together – and even discussed making it into a series. Now that series is in progress, and even has its own website: http://rawtalentseries.co.uk. The first book, Grand Slam, just released – cue lots of nerves from the two of us –but thankfully, we’ve already had some excellent feedback. So our baby is out in the world and people are enjoying it – what could be better?

I totally adored the process of co-authoring with Lily. It was genuinely fun and we just seemed to work really well – and quickly – together.

So if you’ve been thinking about co-authoring, I would say go for it. If you know someone that you can work well with, and you will be honest with one another and complement one another, then it’s a great way to write a book. You’ll have to ask lots of questions to make sure you’re both on the right wavelength, but it’s worth it in the end.

 

Lily HarlemLily’s thoughts…

Well, I think Lucy summed our co-author experience beautifully, Grand Slam was borne from a ‘yeah, lets give it a go’ comment one evening on London’s South Bank over a glass of wine and a gourmet burger, and is now a fully fledged novel that we are both so proud of. Thank goodness we took the plunge!

As Lucy said, that first chapter did just come to me. I’d been watching tennis on Sky Sports, some hunky player whose name I don’t recall, all in white and darting around the court with skill and grace. And it had me wondering, as I often do about athletes, that if he was that focused, so utterly in control in his chosen sport during the day, what was he like at night, in the bedroom? Mmm, you see how my naughty mind works now, don’t you?

I also liked the contrast of his pristine whites and his tanned skin and brooding expression. This got me wondering what other layers he had? Were his desires dark? Did his passion also go to the physical extremes he clearly put his body through during a match? And was his determination to find satisfaction as unstoppable when he was with a woman as when he was facing an opponent?

That is how Travis Connolly was created, though because I wrote the first chapter I didn’t actually get very far into his head. As it turned out Lucy wrote Travis – and because of her A Taste of… Series, a male viewpoint is something she is exceptional at – and I wrote Marie. Oh, la, la, now I think I got seriously lucky there, because every time Lucy sent a chapter back my heart flipped. I just needed to read it. I was desperate to know what big, bad Travis had done next to me… I mean… Marie! LOL, you see that is the beauty of co-authoring, as long as you’re easy going, writing with someone with a similar style, then it is just a whole heap of fun. Marie and Travis were in our heads, bouncing off of each other, their voices loud and clear. The sex scenes were steaming up our laptops and having them from the both characters point of view made them very intimate.

The next book in the series is currently our work in progress, and readers of Grand Slam will already know the two main characters – cryptic, I know! Co-authoring is incredible, I guess it helps if one person has done it before and ‘gets it’. My first attempt was with Natalie Dae, and she was wonderfully patient with me, and encouraging, she certainly taught me a lot too. Sharing writing experiences, the highs and lows, makes it a less lonely profession for sure, and like many things in life, the more I learn about it, the more I realise I don’t know, which is where an easy going attitude is worth its weight in gold if you want to be a co-author. So give it a go, what’s the worst that can happen…?

*****

We’re on tour right now with Grand Slam, so if you want to learn more about the book, feel free to follow: http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/lucy-felthouse-and-lily-harlem/

*****

Excerpt:

“Some people like pain,” he said, still not looking at me.

“Masochists you mean?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

Shit, was he trying to tell me that he enjoyed the pain the accident had left him with? If so, we really needed to discuss this. “That’s not the majority of people though.”

“No, but more than you think. And some people like administering pain.” He turned to me, cocked his head slightly and moved into the space I’d left between us.

I looked into his eyes. Swallowed and tasted his cologne as it traveled into my nostrils and then laced my tongue. “Would you consider them to be good people, Travis? These individuals that like to hurt others.”

“I’ve known a few people who like to give and receive higher sensations, and most of them I consider to be good friends as well as good people.”

I hesitated, felt his body heat radiating toward me, wrapping around me as I pondered his words. We were close, very close, and his consuming presence made logical thinking much harder than normal. “I’m not quite sure what you’re telling me.”

“You talk about pain like it’s a bad thing, Marie.”

“It is.”

He smiled but it wasn’t a sweet smile, more like one of a hunter who’d spotted prey.

“Pain is unpleasant for a reason,” I said. “Because it’s bad.”

“I disagree.” He raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes. It was a challenging, cocky gesture.

A tingle snaked its way up my spine and threatened to wreak havoc in my body by turning into a tremble. But I beat it down. I wouldn’t let a patient get to me this way. I was the one supposed to be holding the reins here.

“Maybe, Marie, you should open your mind to new ideas with a little more grace.”

“I fail to see how I haven’t been graceful in discussing your theory that pain is good.”

“Can we keep it that way?”

“I hope so.”

“In that case,” he flicked his attention from my eyes and looked at my hair, “would you like me to demonstrate?”

Damn, the guy made me feel tiny. Even though I was wearing heels, his broad chest and wide shoulders were looming over me. “Okay.”

He twitched the right side of his mouth into a half-smile. Now he looked like a hunter who’d captured his prey. A trickle of fight or flight seeped into my system. Which would be my best option?

“Now that’s the first rule.” He reached up and undid the clasp holding my hair on the top of my head. It tumbled around my shoulders as the clasp fell to the floor.

“Consent.”

“Doesn’t consent require knowing what you’re agreeing to?” Fuck, with him this close and stroking my hair, spreading it out, I’d pretty much agree to anything. Who was I kidding? Fight or flight was not an option, the only thing that shot through my mind was giving myself over to him. Allowing him to do whatever he wanted, control my body, feed it what it needed.

Damn, it had been too long since I’d been with a man. It was making me desperate.

He slotted his other hand over the left side of my head, the sound of him sliding his fingers over the shell of my ear noisy. My breath hitched and I locked my knees to stabilize my stance. I stared up at him, noting the small shafts of black hair sneaking out of his skin on his chin and the way his bottom lip was a little plumper than the top.

“You see, some pain,” he said, gathering my hair up at my crown and tugging to create tension on the roots, “can heighten the awareness of everything else going on in the body.”

He pulled harder, forcing my head to tip back.

I gasped as discomfort shot across my scalp.

He increased the pressure a little more.

I reached out and clutched at his shirt, felt his hard chest beneath. “Travis, I—”

“Shh, I’m just showing you.” He slipped his arm around my waist, dragged me close and yanked my hair, really hard.

“Ow, I—” A barrage of sensations blasted through my system. The feel of him pressing up against me, hot hard male, all wide pecs and solid thighs. The pain from having my hair tugged with force, and the awareness that my belly was shoved right up against his groin. A groin that held a wedge of thick flesh.

“Just feel,” he whispered, hovering his lips over mine. “Endorphins are rushing into your bloodstream, giving you a natural high as pain alerts your nerve endings that something exciting is happening.” He slid his free hand up my back, tracing the outline of my spine through my blouse.

I breathed in the air he was breathing out, warm and sweet. The scream of hurt in my scalp made me want to wriggle but being held so firmly and confidently kept me still. The heat of the discomfort slipped down my nape and neck and over my shoulders, then combined with the lovely sensation of him stroking my back.

“Can you feel it?” he whispered. “Pain mixing with pleasure, the lines between the two blurring.”

I could feel it with every fiber of my being. My skin was alive with awareness, my breasts were heavy and desperate for stimulation, and between my legs I was buzzing for action. Good, hard man action, preferably of the naked, sweaty variety. “Yes,” I gasped.

*****

grandslamBlurb:

California had seduced me with promises of a new life working at Los Carlos Tennis Academy. What I didn’t expect was the dark, brooding number one seed, Travis Connolly, resisting my help. He wasn’t interested in my psychology skills. Instead his attention was drawn to the edgy, sharper corners of my desires, proving that they existed, setting me challenges and driving me crazy to the point of combustion.

I’m the best tennis player in the world—officially—so why would I need a damn woman full of psychobabble to get me on form? Despite my irritation, however, I can’t resist pushing Marie Sherratt’s buttons even though doing that shows her the darkest shades of my lust, the parts of me I buried deep. So I set her a challenge, one she rises to, one that has me rising too, and before long my game relies on her calling the shots, hitting the target and bending to my will. One thing was certain, being not just master of the court, but also of Marie is seriously good for my soul.

Buy links: http://rawtalentseries.co.uk/book-1-grand-slam/

Add to Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18212109-grand-slam

*****

Author Bios:

Lily Harlem

Lily Harlem lives in the UK with Mr Harlem and a host of rescued animals. She is an award winning author of contemporary erotic romance and writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including Ellora’s Cave, HarperCollins, Total-E-Bound, Xcite and Sweetmeats Press as well as self-publishing. Her HOT ICE series regularly receives high praise and industry nominations and sportsmen who are talented both in and out of the bedroom often feature in her novels. But whichever book you choose of Lily’s one thing you can be sure of is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy. Enjoy!

Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/
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Lucy Felthouse

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over seventy publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include Best Bondage Erotica 2012, 2013 and 2014 and Best Women’s Erotica 2013. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9