Tag Archives: erotic romance

Guest Blogger: Louisa Bacio

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WMS_blogtourMardi Gras Trivia

Thanks so much for K D hosting me today. We’re going to play a quick round of Mardi Gras trivia. Yes, I know, we’re already past the season, but since it’s over you’re brain cells should be working even better. What? You didn’t give up alcohol? Hmmm, maybe that’s the first question!

1) What Catholic tradition does Mardi Gras fall before?

Fat Tuesday, the final day of Mardi Gras, falls right before the beginning of Lent. On the following day Ash Wednesday, Catholics traditionally give up something for the Easter season. So think of it as the last hurrah before temperance sets in.

2) What color is normally not associated with Mardi Gras: Purple, Gold, Orange or Green?

The answer would be Orange!

3) Is Mardi Gras only celebrated in New Orleans?

No way! I’ve heard of some awesome extravaganzas in Missouri and Austin, Texas. While the soul is in New Orleans, the heart is spread out all over the world.

4) What does the “baby” represent in a King Cake?

The person who gets the piece of cake with the plastic figurine of the “baby” (or sometimes referred to as Jesus) receives special privileges or fortune for the following year. The tradition was featured in Chains of Silver, the second book in the erotic paranormal series The Vampire, The Witch & The Werewolf.

5) What’s with those beads anyway?

Ah, in Mirabella’s Mardi Gras Ménage, they play with beads a little bit different way (no spoilers). In reality, according to Craig Thomburrow, the plastic beads may be gaudy, but they represent “the jewelry worn by royalty.”

Hope you enjoyed this bit of trivia!

Mardi Gras MenageMirabella’s Mardi Gras Ménage

Constantly under the watchful eye of her Voodoo priestess aunt, Mirabella longs to break free during the events of Mardi Gras. Escapades draw her into the arms of Marguerite, a fiery redhead with a passion for life, and Nick, a familiar vampire who’s haunted by his transformation and past.

What starts as a new experience – a Mardi Gras Ménage – soon turns deadly, and none of their lives will ever be the same.

Available via Ravenous Romance, Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other eRetailers.

Louisa BacioBio

Louisa Bacio is the author of six erotic novels, including the paranormal series The Vampire, The Witch & The Werewolf, and numerous steamy short stories.

Bacio enjoys soaking up the sun in Southern California, and spending time with her family. In addition to writing and editing, Bacio teaches college courses in English, journalism, film studies and popular culture.

Drop in for a visit at

http://www.louisabacio.com

http://www.facebook.com/louisabacio

http://www.twitter.com/louisabacio

Thanks so much for having me here today.

Giveaway: A .pdf of a book from my backlist. Leave a comment with a valid email address, and you’ll be entered to win.

Tour-wide: A $20 gift certificate to an online book retailer. Use the Rafflecopter to enter.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Migrations Nominated for The Romance Reviews Best Contemporary Erotic Romance 2012

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cover image stand-alone9781908917294_FCLike so many erotic romance and romance writers, I have a long and happy working relationship with the folks over at The Romance Reviews. My books have been reviewed there, talked about there and promoted there. Carole and all the lovely people at TRR have a passion for romance, and it shows on their site. So to have my Xcite novella, Migrations nominated for The Romance Reviews Best Contemporary Erotic Romance of 2012 is a real honour! When I look down the lists of nominees, it’s even more of an honour. I’m on those lists with some fabulous writers and some of my heroes in the romance world! As I write this, I’m trying not to burst my buttons with pride!

The idea for Migrations came out of an ill-fated cross-country trip I made with family some time ago, and yes, we did drive across the places in Nebraska where the lovely sand hill cranes set down to rest and feed up on their very long migrations, though we weren’t there at the right time to see the cranes. And no, my adventure wasn’t anywhere nearly as fun and sexy as Val Hasting’s adventure turned out to be. But that’s the beauty of fiction. It’s a lovely way to redeem even the worst or our misadventures.

If you’ve read Migrations, I would very much appreciate your vote. It’s easy to do. All you have to do is click on The Romance Review badge in the upper left hand corner of this page,  or click here. The voting is open until 31 March. If you’ve not read Migrations but would like a steamy cross-country romp, just follow the Buy links to get your copy.

In the meantime, here’s just a taste of Val’s adventure:

Blurb:

VAL HASTINGS, assisted by her do-gooder cousin, SALLY CLINE, is shanghaied into driving their AUNT ROSE across the US to visit her son. What begins as the trip from hell turns into a sexy adventure when they find themselves sharing the interstate with a mysterious, leather-clad biker. Aunt Rose and Sally are convinced he’s up to no good. But after Val catches him mid-wank at a rest area, and he offers her some steamy help to make her journey more enjoyable, she’s convinced he’s her nasty saviour.

Is HAWK, the biker, a murder, a free spirit, or something else? Whatever he is, animal attraction wins out over caution, as he joins the ladies for a cross country romp that keeps Sally and Aunt Rose nervous and Val hotter than her overheating engine.

Excerpt:

They sat quietly listening to the approaching night. The high grass in the nearby fields was motionless. The air smelled of moist loam and new growth. Everything seemed to be holding its breath.

He heard it first. She felt him tense. There was a shifting in the air, then the growing sound of distant cries and calls, accented by rattling woody trills. The calls of the sandhill cranes were nothing at all the trumpeting sounds she had heard when she’d studied whooping cranes down in Port Aransas. It was like nothing she’d ever heard before, growing louder and more heavily syncopated, until she could feel it deep between her hip bones, down at the base of her spine. They were engulfed in a rolling sea of percussive trills and calls that sounded like endless, anxious questions waiting to be answered, and the moon disappeared in a sea of fluttering wings. ‘Oh my god!’ She raised to a half-crouch and squinted into the chaos. ‘It’s the cranes. It’s the sandhills! You were right. They’re here!’

‘Looks like they’ve managed to slip in under curfew again.’ He slid an arm around her and settled her back on the ground as the first birds landed and began feeding only yards from where they sat.

‘They’re huge!’ She exclaimed. ‘I mean I knew that, but actually seeing them, being this close to them, well, that’s different, isn’t it?’ Then she added, not taking her eyes off the cranes. ‘Did you know they’re the oldest known bird species still surviving? They found a Miocene crane fossil right here in Nebraska, ten million years old. Can you imagine? And it was structurally identical to modern sandhill cranes. We’re looking at the ancient past, Hawk.’

‘They make me feel a bit like a time traveller,’ he said.

She nodded agreement, as a large male close by raised his red head and rattled his questioning call. ‘I think they could easily devour a greedy businessman – well chopped, of course.’ In spite of her tasteless joke, such an end for Beranger did seem like poetic justice.

‘They are the descendants of dinosaurs, after all, and a ravenous lot.’ Hawk said, looking out over the sea of cranes.

‘As far as some of them fly to reach their breeding grounds, a little extra protein certainly wouldn’t hurt.’ She pulled the jacket tight and let the feral aroma of leather and maleness caress her.

Another wave of cranes landed nearby. The air pulsated with warm bodies, the scent of distance and altitude still on their wings. As darkness settled, the fields around them seethed with need and urgency that brought the birds back to this same place year after year, generation after generation, millennia after millennia.

‘My aunt thinks you killed Beranger.’ Her boldness surprised her.

He laughed, cupping her jaw in a calloused hand and tracing her lower lip with his thumb. ‘I had to. You said it yourself, the birds could use the extra protein.’

She nipped the tip of his thumb playfully and looked around at the feeding cranes. ‘Bon appetit!’ She called, uttering a startled gasp when he pulled her down onto the grass, his mouth covering hers as he engulfed her in his warmth and his scent.

‘Is this payment for what I owe you?’ She whispered when he pulled away.

‘Only the first instalment.’ He pushed the jacket off her shoulder along with the straps of her tank top and bra and bathed the sensitive hollow of her collar bone in warm kisses and nibbles, causing her to squirm against him.

‘It’s a big one then? The debt I mean.’ She was finding it more and more difficult to think in coherent sentences as he cupped and caressed.

‘You could be in the hotel room with your auntie and cousin watching movies on demand.’

‘Enormous then,’ she groaned, pressing up against him.

‘Mmm. I doubt if you’ll ever be able to fully repay it.’ He insinuated one knee between her legs and wriggled and nestled until his groin pressed against hers, until she could feel the hardness of him through the rub of jeans against jeans. Then he went back to work on her mouth, his tongue dancing over hers and lapping at her hard pallet, as they rocked and shifted against each other, until the friction was exquisite.

He pulled away enough to shove her tank top up until her belly was bare, then he  kissed her just below the waist band of her bra where her ribs came together, causing her to inhale in tight little gasps. He licked and nuzzled his way down to her navel, while he opened her zipper and slid a hand inside the low waist band of her panties, clearing the way for his hungry mouth. She arched up to meet his kisses, as he slid her clothing down over her hips.

It felt as though she’d been waiting forever for this moment, as he caressed and suckled the landscape of her, exploring with his fingers, with his mouth, with his eyes, like Lewis and Clark discovering a new land, like Darwin discovering a new species.

The little moan that escaped his throat against her clit might have been from the feel of her so engorged and open and receptive, or it might have been from the feel of his heavy penis pressing through his jeans. Whatever the cause, she returned the moan and curled her fingers in his hair holding him to her undulating groin. The cranes were all around them, so close she could almost touch a feathered neck or a slender leg. She felt their singleness of purpose as though it were her own, and Hawk felt it too, she was sure he did.

He nuzzled and nipped and licked at the split of her, burying his face in the warm wetness of her, caressing her fullness with deep, expressive lavings. And when she was practically in a frenzy with the want of him, he pulled away and looked up into her eyes, his face glistening with her juices. ‘I don’t want to play this time, Val. I want the real thing. I want all of you. I want to be inside you.’

‘Me too,’ she gasped. ‘I want that too.’

And they were both on their knees fumbling with zippers and snaps, pushing and shoving at denim and cotton, all aflutter like the wings of the cranes around them. The need felt like a fast moving prairie fire, with too much heat to even notice the prickle of the grass and the scratch of last year’s dead vegetation still not quite surrendered to new growth.

She heard the tear of the condom wrapper, and as she kicked free of jeans and panties he was already sheathed and ready for her, settling her bare bottom back onto his open bomber jacket and pushing into her with a grunt, which ended in an inhaled breath sucked between his teeth. ‘Oh god,’ he sighed. ‘Oh god.’

She was slick and pouting, aching and heavy. She had been all day, ever since she first saw him stroking his cock behind the bathrooms at the rest area, and she took him with tight, yielding ease that rubbed and slid and gripped in all the right places.

She lifted her legs around his hips and he groped and kneaded her ass cheeks in an effort to pull her still further onto him. ‘You’re so deep and 220px-Grus_canadensistight, and god, you feel better than anything,’ he breathed.

She grabbed his clenching buttocks, running trembling desperate fingers down the crack between, parting them, fondling them, teasing, making him suck air as her fingers brushed his anus and lingered to explore timidly.

His thrusting had become tight, stiff, manic, and she was practically off the ground, wrapped around him so tightly, digging white knuckled fingers into the tense muscle beneath his shoulder blades. All breath was gone, all thought was gone. All that was left was instinct, hunger, need. It erupted in harsh cries that caused a startled rustling of wings and a few muffled squawks in the sea of feathers and sinew, but little more. It was as though the birds somehow knew they were no threat. They continued to feed and settle in to roost as though the earth hadn’t moved, as though the fireworks of hormonal chemistry between two humans had nothing to do with them.

Kinky Boots Go Walking on a Sexy Blog Tour

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Kinky_BootsWho doesn’t love a good pair of boots? A good pair of boots can make you feel sexy and powerful, like you’re ready to conquer the whole world. And if a good pair of boot is nice, a kinky pair of boots is even better. Beginning Monday 18 March, I’ll be taking Kinky Boots on tour. For a week I’ll be parading Jill and Finn and Eleanor and Meinrad and their naughty antics around to some of the hottest, naughtiest blog you could ever hope to visit. Here’s where the Kinky Boots gang will be. Come join us for the fun and frolic.

Find Kinky Boots on These Naughty Sites:

18th Marchhttp://sexyreads.co.uk
19th Marchhttp://dawnsreadingnook.blogspot.com/
20th Marchhttp://www.bookinitreviews.com/
21st Marchhttp://galestanley.blogspot.com
22nd Marchhttp://adrianakraft.com/blog
22nd Marchhttp://blissekiss.co.uk/ {Extra Snog Stop}

Blurb:

After a sizzling encounter in Kinky Boots, a quirky all-night shoe store, with the store’s hot owner, FINN MASTERS, JILL HART walks away in Kinky_Bootsthe most gorgeous boots ever. Her new boots come with an unexpected bonus, a sexy demon named ELEANOR, who’s looking for a good time. All she lacks is a body, and Jill’s will do nicely.

Jill quits her dead-end job and, not knowing what’s come over her stops by the nearest pub intent on doing tequila shots until she falls off the stool. Instead she does FINN MASTERS in the beer garden, unwittingly participating in her first ever threesome. The boots were the bait, the timing was right and Eleanor has new digs. It’s Finn job to prevent Eleanor’s misbehaving. His failure means he’ll have to ride shotgun and do damage control until Eleanor moves out at the next full moon.

With Eleanor in residence, Jill’s bolder, sexier, willing to take risks. But is she a whole new Jill, or is it just demon courage? And how will Finn feel about her when she’s just plain Jill again? Will the maddeningly magical ménage make Jill’s dreams come true, or will it break her heart?

Excerpt:

The clerk lifted her right foot into his hand. She tried to squirm away but he held her firmly flashing her a concerned glance from under a drawn brow. ‘You could have seriously injured your feet walking around Shoreditch at night in someone else’s shoes.’

The skirt she wore was a denim mini, and the way he sat between her legs made her feel exposed, vulnerable, and something a lot more yummy. As he ran his thumbs up her instep and over the pad of her foot, she shifted in the chair sliding down to accommodate his inspection.

‘Shoes are so important. They protect our feet, our soles, the only part of us that regularly contacts the earth. They allow us that intimate connection with our planet while at the same time keeping us safe from it.’ He continued his inspection of her feet, hands moving gently over her arch to the ball then to her toes as he cupped her heel in a warm hand. ‘No two people’s soles contact the earth in the same way.’

Her pulse thudded at the enthusiasm of his little speech which, along with his gentle inspection of her feet, felt shockingly intimate, even more so than if he had actually peeked up her skirt. His actions were having a cumulative effect low between her hip bones. ‘Maybe you could sell me something a little more suited to me.’ Her words rushed out breathless and unsteady.

He placed both hands on his thighs and looked up at her. ‘Did you have a pair in mind?’

She gave a quick glance around the store, and her eyes lit on a pair of mauve boots that came up just over the ankle, low on the calf. They sported delicate kitten heels and were threaded with sage green laces that looked more like ribbons, ‘How about those,’ she said. Then she blushed fiercely. They were lovely, elegant, and any idiot could see, totally not suited for someone like her. ‘Or maybe something a little more practical.’ She avoided his gaze. ‘A little less flashy.’

Ignoring her second thoughts, he stood and walked to the rack. She couldn’t keep from noticing how nicely his butt filled out his jeans. She could imagine that arse had sold more than a few pairs of shoes to women who liked a good view. It was then she realized he had taken the boots straight off the display. ‘I’m hard to fit,’ she said as he knelt in front of her and unlaced one boot.

‘Trust me–’ he smiled up at her, opened the boot and offered it to her like Cinderella’s Prince Charming ‘– I can fit you just fine.’

 

Kristal Baird Asks the Burning Question: What’s in a Name?

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What’s in a name?

Even Shakespeare wondered:Kristal Baird PI HoneytrapMaster Isolated Images

“… that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet”

But exactly how much thought do writers give to the naming of characters?

Random selections? Personal encounters? Or are they chosen for being rich and meaningful?

Charles Dickens & Henry James, by all accounts, couldn’t even begin to write without establishing a character through naming. They claim their true character only came into focus when gifted the correct name. Both compiled lists of possibilities against future use, gathered from diverse sources such as commercial vehicles, newspapers – and, no doubt, the odd gravestone!

  • Schoolmaster, ‘Wackford Squeers’, beats, starves and terrorises as an alternative to teaching.
  • ‘Gradgrind’, a lacklustre utilitarian imposes his daily tedium of uninspiring education.
  • Jolly, wet-nurse, ‘Polly Toodle’ a “plump, rosy-cheeked, wholesome, apple-faced young woman”.
  • ‘Mr Wopsle’, the church clerk (a frustrated actor) delivers his opinion with such exaggerated dramatics that no-one ever takes him seriously.
  • ‘Mr Bumble’, the power-hungry, status-loving, minor official.
  • ‘Luke Honeythunder’  could be none other than a loud-voiced philanthropist.

Kristal Baird P I Honeytrap imageThese two writers were not alone in their quest.

Edmund Spenser The Faerie Queene created the joyless ‘Sansjoy’; Milton  Paradise Lost ensured ‘Lucifer’ became ‘Satan’ only after his fall from grace and James Joyce Finnegan’s Wake and his satirical efforts would be a whole other post.

Film characters’ names are fascinating too. Picture these apt variations:

  • Arnie Schwarzenegger – Trench,Tasker, Matrix, Conan, Muscleman
  • Jean-Claude Van Damme –  Frenchy, Phillipe Sauvage, Edward Garotte, Chance Boudreaux
  • Steven Seagal – Kane, Steele, Cold, Hunter, Glass and Storm!

Who doesn’t feel they understand a little about characters from well chosen names alone?  Gollum, Luke Skywalker, Sam Spade, Boo Radley, Breathless Mahoney, Cruella De Vil, Holly Golightly, Ratso Rizzo, Gordon Gekko, Plenty O’Toole or Forrest Gump anyone?

A well-chosen name can open the door to a deeper understanding of character and intention; a fact a writer might ignore at their peril. However, it doesn’t do some any harm:   “God, I’m such a lazy writer. I can’t even think up new names.”  Dennis Potter

What do you think?

Just for Fun: Did you know…?

  • Barbie’s full name is Barbara Millicent Roberts, whilst Ken’s is Kenneth Carson.
  • Would you care to refer to The Wizard of Oz as Oscar Zoroaster Phadrig Isaac Norman Henkel Emmannuel  Ambroise Diggs? He stuck to OZ as he considered his other initials to be “a reflection on my intelligence” [PINHEAD]
  • Peppermint Pattie [Peanuts] bears the name Patricia Reichardt.
  • Shaggy [Scoobie Doo] is less well known as Norville Rogers

 

Think what fun writers & readers can have with names (& take a closer look at mine…)

Kristal Baird x

PI Honeytrap Review Details

P I HONEYTRAP

An erotic novel by Kristal Baird

 

Blurb

Hayley doesn’t trust men. She thinks most of them are only good for one thing. And she gets plenty of that honey-trapping cheating husbands or satisfying her own needs with local gym owner, Reuben.

And woe-betide him if he even tries to get emotionally close to her. Because tough girl Hayley is running. From her past. From herself.

Will Reuben ever understand this girl? Will Hayley ever accept exactly who she is and what she needs from a man? Will she learn to trust again?

Kristal Baird PI HOneytrapExcerpt

[Hayley interviews a potential client who thinks her husband is cheating on her, but she’s daydreaming about last night…]

‘Go on.’ Hayley settled back in her chair. She could listen and drift away at the same time.

She drifted straight back to the gym where she’d retreated late last night, to pound a little tension out of her body. Her private arrangement with the owner allowed her to use the place long after his other customers had gone home …

‘Still running, Hayley?’

Hayley knew that Reuben had been standing behind her in the doorway between his office and the main gym hall watching her for some time. She was observant about things like that. And about his choice of words. Perhaps it was time to cancel the arrangement?

‘Still running, Reuben. Are you wanting to lock up or something?’ She kept pounding the treadmill. The angle was at full elevation and it was hard work to keep going at that speed. She didn’t want to break her stride.

‘I did that an hour since. It’s just you and me.’

She knew that tone. He moved closer but the stare was the same. It meant only one thing, and Hayley didn’t mind how she pounded the tension out of her tonight. Particularly with Reuben.

‘I’m kind of busy right now.’ Hayley liked to tease him; to keep things light between them.

He walked over to her machine. ‘Then let me help you with your workload.’ Reuben punched the controls and the incline began to slowly reduce.

Hayley adjusted her body’s forward drive and stared at him as he started to ease the pace she was running too. She’d been on the machine for nearly an hour. That was the reason she suddenly noticed her pulse rate was so high, her heart pounding. The only reason. Sweat dripped off her skin, which glowed with heat. Even between her thighs.

‘I’m a bit of a mess,’ she claimed. She was jogging steadily now, coming down gradually from her peak.

‘I like my women hot, sweaty, and out of breath.’ The tight lift at one side of his mouth told Hayley he liked his own jokes and he was hot too. For her.

She checked out the bulge in his sweats and cocked an eyebrow. Ready to rumble. ‘You’re a lucky guy, then. You’ve got a machine that does most of the work for you, getting them in that condition.’

‘Look around you. I’ve got quite a few.’ Reuben’s eyes were fixed solidly on hers. ‘Machines. Not women.’

Hayley didn’t need to look around to know what was there. Since she’d opened her private investigation office two doors down from Reuben’s Gym, she’d worked out on most of the equipment – with and without Reuben. With was a different kind of workout. And, whatever he said, there were women too. She’d seen their eyes follow Reuben about. But she wasn’t intending to make that her business. This was strictly casual.

‘Machinery? Kind of makes your job a bit too easy. What’s left for you to do?’ Hayley was off the machine and twisting the top off the bottle of water that Reuben had handed her. She tipped her head back and downed the lot in one go, needing the rehydration if she was to keep working out. Making out. And she’d already made up her mind that, tonight, she would be.

Hayley wondered if she liked coming here more for the machine workout or for the other kind of exercise she got at Reuben’s place, and if Reuben wondered too.

He stepped in closer. His body was all muscle. He didn’t just own a gym, he used it on a regular basis. In her line of work, Hayley really appreciated a fit guy. She honeytrapped plenty for her clients, and most were creeps. But Reuben wasn’t work. He was all playtime.

‘I step in for the rub-down.’ He took the empty bottle from her and flipped it across to the bin.

‘Good shot.’

Reuben’s grin told her he wanted to show her another kind of slam dunk. ‘My talents are many.’

They sure were. God, he looked sexy when he smiled. Hot body with all the defined tendons and sinews of an athlete. Great features. The complete package. It was Hayley’s turn for her mouth to twist up into a smile of appreciation. Looking sexy in a white vest and sweatpants was only the start of Reuben’s endowments.

He placed his hands on her forearms and ran them up to her shoulders. She was hot before, but now she began the slow rise to combustion as his firm fingers kneaded the tight muscles at her shoulders and ran up the length of her neck into her hairline.

Hayley reached back and pulled out the elastic that was holding her dark hair back into a tight ponytail. Reuben pushed his fingers through its length, curving around the shape of her skull beneath. She moaned softly.

‘You like that?’

She nodded, eyes half closed.

‘I can do better,’ he promised. He gathered the fabric at the hem of her T-shirt, having given her the expression that she recognised as asking her consent, and peeled it off her damp body. She let him.

The air-conditioning hit her hot, sticky skin and sent shivers dancing across it. Reuben grasped her wrist and towed her behind him towards the massage room. There was an urgency about his movements that told her he’d waited long enough; that he wanted to get her to a place where she would let him fuck her as soon as possible. The guy was hurting.

That’s why she came back to Reuben’s. He worked hard to turn things his way, but it was always her choice in the end. With the hard, muscular size of him, no matter how fit she was he could have her pinned beneath him in seconds flat. But she always knew a simple no would end matters there and then. The guy had self-control.

Unlike some of the jerks she worked with. She’d been involved in some pretty nasty encounters to get the evidence her clients needed. To prove their husbands and boyfriends were cheating, lying scum who would chase any pretty woman who looked their way, irrespective of the fact they were supposedly committed.

She could feel her tension mounting again. Reuben could probably feel it too. He threw a warm, fluffy towel on the massage bench and pressed Hayley face down towards it. She twisted her hair again into a loose knot and fixed it on top of her head.

‘I’m going to unhook your sports bra, Hayley. Is that OK?’

‘Mmm.’ It was only the beginning. The tingle in her nipples told her that tonight she was going all the way. But it wouldn’t hurt to let him wonder.

Reuben unclipped the garment with a practised hand that made Hayley smile. They had an understanding. No ties. Just a little R and R whenever they wanted it; needed it. She liked it that way.

She liked what Reuben was doing to her now too. Her nose told her he had poured warm coconut oil into the palms of his hands, which he slicked across the entire surface of her back. He started palm-circling in small movements, slowly up to her neck on one side of her spine and down to the top of her sweatpants. She could feel the tightness in her muscles soften as he worked.

Time disappeared. Perhaps she drifted off to sleep beneath Reuben’s expert hands as he went through his magic routine; lifting, knuckling, twisting. It was those sexy little thumb strokes that eventually brought her back to consciousness.

Or his gravelly voice.

‘I want to give you a full-body massage, Hayley.’ The gruff tone told her the massage was doing as much for him as it was for her. God, she liked this guy.

He was asking her permission again, to take it up a notch. No point pretending. ‘I want that too.’

They both knew he had been given approval for more than just a rubdown.

Reuben’s fingertips hooked in her waistband and he tugged her sweatpants down over her hips. She heard him moan softly as she raised her hips off the bench to accommodate him. She smiled at the silence as he discovered she wasn’t wearing panties. What was the point under sweatpants? At the gym. With Reuben.

A little more oil swirled between his hands and Reuben’s strong fingers flowed from the arch of her spine, over the rise of her lower back to the firm mounds of her buttocks and down her thighs, not stopping until they reached her lower calves. Without ceasing, they returned on their journey to her bottom again.

Her legs felt long, strong, and lean under his actions. Reuben always made her feel good about herself. So good. She parted her legs minutely.

His fingers hooked softly beneath her hip bone and he alternately pulled and pushed the heel of his hand across the muscle of her buttock, working the tight flesh loose and warm. He walked around to the other side, drawing his hand across her body, keeping contact as he went, and repeated the firm movements on the other side.

Despite the relaxing slide of his hand across her oily flesh, Hayley sensed a moment when the contact between them changed. She grew taut and tense. She felt Reuben harden too, somehow. This was it. His hand lay over the cleft of her bottom. His oily fingers dipping lower and lower between her legs. She relaxed them further apart to ease his way.

****

Thank you for reading. I really hope you enjoyed it. It’s a full-length novel, so there’s plenty more PI HONEYTRAP …

BUY LINKS:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/P-I-Honeytrap-ebook/dp/B00AY0XH1A/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1357769259&sr=1-1

http://www.amazon.com/P-I-Honeytrap-ebook/dp/B00AY0XH1A/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1357769341&sr=8-1&keywords=PI+Honeytrap

http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/P-I-Honeytrap/book-B1cRD48P202mLWLBlwHRmA/page1.html?s=E0rT110LV0Kq3hzAUNOuXA&r=1

http://www.xcitebooks.co.uk/Book/8733/P-I-Honeytrap.html#

Contact Kristal Here:

@kristalbaird

http://kristalbaird.blogspot.co.uk/

https://twitter.com/kristalbaird 

https://www.facebook.com/KristalBairdAuthor

http://www.goodreads.com/goodreadscomuser_kristalbaird

 

 

 

Elemental Fire: Family Photos

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IMG00491-20130308-1227Friday morning there was a knock on the door, and a rain-drenched postman delivered a familiar-shaped box. My heart skipped a beat and my feet did a happy-dance. I knew what that box meant. It meant that volume 3 of the Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy, Elemental Fire, was now officially out in print and these were my lovely author copies!

I couldn’t resist. The response is always the same. Right after I take them out and fondle them and look through them and admire them, I get all the kids together for some family photos, and here are the end results!

By the way, we’ll be celebrating the launch of Elemental Fire on 20 April at Sh! Women’s Store. Where else would we be celebrating? And it’s going to be quite a celebration, as Kay Jaybee is going to be giving a sneak preview of The Retreat, book two of her BDSM Trilogy. Also, I’m beside myself for this launch party – literally. In addition to being there as K D, I’ll be there as Grace Marshall too, reading from the second book of my Executive Decisions Trilogy, Identity Crisis. It’ll be an evening of fun, filth, fizz, and maybe some really exciting extra surprises as well. I’ll keep you informed as plans unfold. Be sure to mark April 20 on your calendar and come join the fun.

In the meantime, since you’re already here, would you like to take a look at my family album??? Shameless promotion? You betcha!

IMG00494-20130308-1230Blurb:

Obsessed with revenge, KENNET LUCIAN makes a deal with a demon, a deal he comes to regret when he meets TARA STONE, head of the Elemental Coven, and a powerful witch with a desire for revenge at least as great as his. Even though the attraction between the two is magnetic and the lust combustive, Kennet must betray her to accomplish his goal, which is ultimately her goal as well; to put a final end to the demon, Deacon’s, reign of terror. But can Tara trust the man who has wormed his way into her heart and the heart of the Elemental Coven? Can she trust LUCIA, the demon with whom Kennet is allied, a demon with her own agenda. The path to Deacon’s destruction is far from clear, and the price that must be paid to be free of him forever may be too high, even for Tara Stone.

Excerpt:

It was then Tara noticed the exquisite woman with long golden hair sitting so close that her knees practically touched Tara’s ribs. It came as no surprise to her, though surely it should have, but then this was a dream, wasn’t it? The woman’s robe pooled around her and ebbed and flowed like fire.

IMG00497-20130308-1233‘You feel better now, don’t you my darling, Tara?’ She asked. Her voice made Tara feel like she was melting into warm, delicious nothingness and seeping into the cave floor.

Tara nodded and moaned softly, for some reason unable to speak, for some reason just wanting to remain in the presence of this woman, whoever she was. It brushed her consciousness fleetingly that maybe she should be concerned about the strange woman in her dreams, but the thought passed quickly, and she lay quietly next to her.

‘Good,’ the woman said, stroking Tara’s hair away from her forehead. ‘I need you to feel better. All of us need you to feel better. We have work to do, and we cannot do it when you’re mourning your losses.’ She nodded. ‘Yes, of course I know about your Anderson. And I know that you do not fuck the living. Such a foolish girl you are to deny yourself the very pleasure you so willingly offer the dead. Elemental Cottage is not a nunnery, my darling.’ She leaned down low and kissed Tara on the mouth. Her breath smelled like the fells in high summer. Then she tisk-tisked and gently stroked Tara’s pubic curls. ‘You need more than you can manage with your hand, my sweet girl, no matter how gifted you are in the arts of pleasure. You practice sex magic, surely you know this.’ She brushed slender fingers up Tara’s belly and over the mounds of her breasts. Tara arched up into her heated caresses. ‘Shall I bring you just what you need to make you feel better? Would you like that, my dear?’

Tara could only whimper and nod.

Once again she brushed Tara’s lips with hers adding the slightest flick of her tongue, and for an instant, the kiss felt predatory, devouring. Or had Tara only imagined it? ‘Do not worry, my love,’ the woman said as she pulled away. ‘I shall send you just what you need. Wait here, and rest a little.’ Then she disappeared leaving Tara to writhe and moan on the floor of the cave.

From far away someone shook her arm, someone called to her in distressed tones, trying to bring her back to the Waking World. But she didn’t want to go back. It was safe and warm and happy here. There was nothing but sadness in the Waking World. She just wanted to sleep here in the cave and wait for whoever the beautiful woman would bring to her.

IMG00495-20130308-1231But the shaking and jostling continued. She slapped the hand away but it kept coming back to shake her. She was just ready to tell whoever it was to bugger off, when she opened her eyes and looked up to see the outline of a man leaning over her. Even in the darkness, the energy emanating from him was magnetic. Everything inside her tightened with anticipation, and Goddess, she wanted him. Surely she was still dreaming.

‘Are you alright?’ His voice vibrated through her chest and his touch felt electric, full of magic. ‘I thought you were dead, then I heard you moaning. I guess you were dreaming. I was worried and then …’

They both realized at the same time that her shirt was open and so were her trousers, and one hand still rested on her mons. She could feel the man’s gaze taking in the situation, and he twigged. ‘Oh shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I thought you were — ’

‘I was! Dreaming, I mean.’ She quickly jerked her hand out of her trousers and tugged her open blouse across her bare breasts. ‘I was dreaming, and she said she’d send someone and …’ She blinked hard and looked around at the night sky. She couldn’t have been asleep long, but everything felt unreal, different. Was she still dreaming? Dreams could be so powerful at times, so confusing. She reached up to touch his face and felt a surge of magic — some new, some old. Some very old. Had she enfleshed a ghost because of her horny dream? When she walked at night, ghosts did sometimes follow her onto the fells in hopes that she would enflesh them and allow them to experience for a little while the pleasures afforded the living. And any other time she would happily oblige. But when she walked at night, she always sent them away. This was her place, her alone time. No one was welcome to disturb her here, and most ghosts knew that. Had she been that out of it? Was she that desperate for a fuck that her unconscious had broken her own rules?’

The man sat back on his haunches and looked down at her. In the darkness she could only make out his silhouette dominated by broad shoulders, but it was enough to make her  own arousal spike. Certainly if she had enfleshed him, she couldn’t leave him in the state he was now, no doubt, in because of her.

He gave a little gasp of surprise when she off-balanced him, pulled him down to her and kissed him. ‘You shouldn’t have come here,’ she managed before she drew him into another kiss.

‘I might say the same about you,’ he replied.

Cheeky ghost, she thought, but she kissed him again. This time he returned the favour. And the power surge she felt went clear from her mouth down to the base of her spine and back again. His eyes fluttered, he gasped against her mouth, clearly feeling what she felt, and there was no disguising the press of his heavy erection against the fly of his walking trousers.

‘What the hell was that?’ She gasped, not entirely sure she wasn’t going to come just from their last kiss.

He pulled back from her with a start, one hand against his lips and the other resting low on his belly. ‘If you do that again, I can’t guarantee what will… If you do that again.’

IMG00503-20130310-1516For a tightly stretched second, they froze in each other’s gaze. Then she forced words up through her throat, struggling to breathe through her arousal. ‘I can’t … I need …’

‘Me too,’ He whispered. She couldn’t see the colour of his eyes in the darkness, but his gaze was baking hot against her.

Focus. Damn it, she needed to be able to focus, to think. She forced a deep breath and then they were both speaking at the same time.

‘I’m sorry … I didn’t … I wouldn’t …’

‘I don’t know what just happened,’ he gasped.

‘Me neither,’ she managed.

Then they were on each other. He yanked the clasp from her hair and clawed it free from the ponytail. She curled her fingers in the front of his shirt and pulled him on top of her, down between her open legs, lifting her hips, wrapping her ankles around his waist and thrusting up to meet him. The sounds coming from his throat were deep-chested, wild, and she wasn’t sure where his grunts and growls left off and hers began as he thrust and ground against her, shoving her arse into the soft moss with his efforts.