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A Convenient Arrangement by Maggie Marr—$.99 Sale Blitz (@maggiemarr)

PUBLICATION DATE

March 31, 2016

BOOK BLURB

**JUST $.99 THROUGH MARCH 2**

Billionaire tech genius Leo Travati is the ultimate playboy.

He’s the poster boy for bachelor life…literally.

The launch of Leo’s new app The Convenient Arrangement solidifies his rank as the #1 most eligible bachelor–and he plans to keep things that way.

Gwen Fleming is well aware of Leo’s reputation. But after one electrifying touch, she finds herself considering “no strings” just to satisfy the need that burns whenever Leo is near.

Only what begins as no-strings grows more complicated, because Leo feels the intense attraction as well.

Could this convenient arrangement last forever?

***

A Convenient ArrangementA Convenient Arrangement by USA Today bestselling author Maggie Marr is book 3 in The Travati Family series, which is part of the Eligible Billionaires series.

The Eligible Billionaires Series includes:

Can’t Buy Me Love

One Night for Love

A Christmas Billionaire

Last Call for Love

Running for Love

A Forever Love (The Travati Family Book 1)

A Billionaire for Christmas (The Travati Family Book 2)

A Convenient Arrangement (The Travati Family Book 3)

A Forbidden Love (The Travati Family Book 4)

 

SERIES & NUMBER

The Travati Family, Book 3

The Eligible Billionaires, Book 8

 

OTHER BOOKS IN SERIES

Can’t Buy Me Love

One Night for Love

A Christmas Billionaire

Last Call for Love

Running for Love

A Forever Love (The Travati Family Book 1)

A Billionaire for Christmas (The Travati Family Book 2)

A Convenient Arrangement (The Travati Family Book 3)

A Forbidden Love (The Travati Family Book 4)

 

BUY LINKS

Amazon US:  http://amzn.to/2BY7Kd1

Amazon UK:  http://amzn.to/2nKPPBj

Amazon AU:  http://amzn.to/2GR0wLh

Amazon CA:  http://amzn.to/2FPD8wl

Nook:  http://bit.ly/2EIrqVf

iBooks:  https://apple.co/2s5KFFi

Kobo:  http://bit.ly/2C15XE4

Google Play:  http://bit.ly/1q7Zoth

Print:  http://amzn.to/2BY7Kd1

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2nED3Fi

 

AUTHOR BIO

Maggie Marr is the author of contemporary romance and women’s fiction. She writes smart, sexy, women and the men they love.

She got her start in Hollywood pushing the mail cart at ICM, but quickly rose through the ranks to become a motion picture literary agent. As well as writing, she maintains a boutique legal practice dedicated to the needs of creatives & entrepreneurs.

She is the current President of Los Angeles Romance Authors (LARA) and legal adviser to the Women’s Fiction Writers Association (WFWA).

Maggie loves all things pop culture and when she isn’t taking care of her clients or writing she can be found reading, chasing kids, or exercising her rescue pup.

AUTHOR CONTACT INFO/SOCIAL MEDIA

Email:  maggiemarrbooks@gmail.com

Website:  http://www.maggiemarr.net/

Newsletter:  http://www.maggiemarr.net/about/newsletter

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/maggiemarrbooks/

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/maggiemarr

Pinterest:  https://www.pinterest.com/maggiemarr/

Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/maggie_marr_author/

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/378432.Maggie_Marr

Amazon Author Page:  https://www.amazon.com/Maggie-Marr/e/B001ITX392/

Bookbub:  https://www.bookbub.com/authors/maggie-marr

 

EXCERPT:

Her belly heated and the hair on her neck stood on end. Oh no. No. No, no, no, no.  The heat in her cheeks, they had to be glowing red. Leo was here, just behind her, she could feel it. Being near him was like walking into an electrical field…or in front of an oncoming train.

“Leo said the same thing”—one corner of Mrs. Bello’s mouth lifted into a smile—“hot shower and a nap and he was a new person.”

Gwen pressed her lips into a line and then pushed a giant smile onto her face. “Funny how that works.” She turned and her gaze locked with Leo’s.

Her stomach twisted. Her heart stalled. Her panties grew wet. Her entire body raged in a war between anger and want.

“Leo, Aubrey said you weren’t feeling well. Glad to see that you’re better.” She leaned forward and pecked each of his cheeks. Man. Soap. Oranges. Leo smelled of all these things, just as her pillows and sheets at home now did. She pulled back, tilted her head and gave him a sharp wtf look. He’d said he wasn’t coming. He’d said that she should come. He’d said that—

“You seem to be cruising to one hundred percent too. Aubs mentioned you’d come down with what? A cold?” He narrowed his eyes, took a drink of his beer, and glanced toward Aubrey on the far side of the room. “Sure hope you aren’t contagious. Wouldn’t want to get the pregnant lady sick.” He turned back to Gwen. “Maybe you should go home.” He lifted an eyebrow, as if to silently ask what the hell are you doing here.

Gwen bristled at his words. She was not going home. He’d insisted she should come to dinner today so as to squelch any rumors that might have started if they’d both missed the party after leaving Justin and Aubrey’s together last night. That is, if anyone had noticed—please God let no one have noticed. She was here now and she wasn’t going anywhere, not on his say-so.

“I’m pretty sure that I was just a little hung over. All better now.” She shot him an icy glare. “But you? Aubrey said you nearly hacked up a lung. Could it be pneumonia? Maybe you should take a quick run over to urgent care. Might take four or five hours, but you definitely wouldn’t want Aubrey to get pneumonia. Pregnant women have repressed immune systems. It’s science.”

Leo didn’t answer, but a long slow breath and narrowed eyelids indicated his annoyance loudly enough.

Sale blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.

Eros the Trickster – A Guest Blog by Monique Roffey (@MoniqueRoffey13)

Erotic love is the trickster love, isn’t it? Eros, the bastard, is a cherub and pest a manipulator. He draws back his bow, lets his arrow fly and then, bam. If he chooses you, you’re stuffed. It’s one thing if you’ve been struck by Eros and so has your love interest. Then you both go down; but get to walk away, hand in hand into a brave new day. If erotic love is mutual between two people, then, happy days. Often people get married on the strength of this mutual sexual love interest. But what if Eros strikes only you, or, only you first? Then, it’s an agony to be the one who has been struck. A complex has been triggered, the anima or the animus, and therein follows much pain, heartache and sometimes even humiliation. We suffer.

“Eros is stronger than the go,” my shrink once said to me. Yes, this kind of love is strong and we can topple over, or be dragged over, and sometimes swiftly. One minute we are rational-minded, thoughtful and grounded, the next we are ‘stupidy’ (as we say in Trinidad), and have taken leave of our senses. It’s a kind of moral death, too, or brain malfunction. We have been struck. We do things that are unethical (shag another’s husband or partner, for example). It’s a condition, a kind of brain fever. I’ve seen the best of us go under. Sometimes we suffer for months, even longer. An unrequited erotic attraction to another person – that’s a hard one. Yuk. Also, it’s hard to walk way from, too. And hard to set yourself straight; hard to keep the whole thing in its proper perspective, because Eros is a powerful player in the forces of the sexual love game. He tricks us, and we capitulate. Over we go. Eros sets the proverbial cat amongst the pigeons. Eros is a chaos element, the Fool in the Tarot, not the Lovers card; he is the Magician, too. Eros sets us on our travels; Eros is a cosmic bum, a Fool, and a fooler too.

In my sexy new novel The Tryst, Eros arrives in female form, in the small red haired beauteous character of Lilah. Lilah the domme, the imp, the pest, the player, the predator. An innocent couple Bill and Jane invite her into their home and she wreaks havoc on them and delights in it. She mashes them up, changes things between them, forever. That is her habit and her great kink, to fuck Innocents like Jane and Bill. Hit and run, leaving them wanting more. She is the great seducer, a Lilatha, a game changer. She’s done it many times, taken herself out on a night hunt, drained the man of his power, left him sleeping, and climbed out the window. This time, she is caught, though. This time she too is struck by another pesky imp, Eros. Bam. Over she goes.

*****

The Tryst, (Dodo Ink)

Extract

By Monique Roffey

LILAH

I scared Miss Sexual Desert good and proper, but found myself quite shaken too. In the cab on the way back I touched my cheek where she’d slapped me twice. The sting was still there, surprising. Heat in her after all, the little prig. I don’t think she believed what I said about me and Bill; I could hardly believe what I’d said myself, that I was journeying back to Bill, paying a cab to take me to him. Something has happened between me and Bill. What had been happening to me? Being outdoors in the fresh air had given me a taste of reality again. Whatever had been going on in that creepy house between us had to stop. It was only twenty-four hours since I’d met this dreary couple in a bar, a pair like so many others – Jane and Bill, Janet and Joe, Mary and Pete, just like many I’d encountered. Same deal.

And yet this time it had been different. I hadn’t escaped so easily. I’d prevaricated because of this new feeling. I hastily took stock. I had stayed on a hunt long after the kill. I had met a lover in the form of a man in the human realm. A First. Bill could meet me, match my skills. Bill had located my spot, caused me to gush like no other, not even Samael. And – was there more? There had been another aspect which I found hard to name, a feeling which had swiftly passed over me during our hours of sexing. It had been a flash of a rich, full feeling. I had felt an empathy with Bill, like he was more than just a mortal man. Bill had stirred me up and I wasn’t accustomed to this chaotic mixture of feelings inside.

Whatever these new ‘feelings’ were or had been, they had disappeared. Vamoosed. I couldn’t remember them. Love? Ha. I felt like my old self again. I felt itchy. Loose. I wanted to be on my way, back into the forest. I remembered the cat, Choo Choo. I thought of the hexacious tower I’d created, amidst all that iron. I had stamped my mark on this couple, I always do. I had reconfigured things between them, and that was what the wife had wanted me to do. Too bad if she had changed her mind. Too bad. And Bill, well, he had given me a turn. I had taken my life in my hands to have intercourse with him. He was one to remember. Okay, I said to myself: there’s nothing like experience. This man Bill has been a first. I will go and say goodbye to him.

Bill greeted me at the door with decisive amorous kisses. I’d only been gone a couple of hours, but already he wanted more of my talents; he was tugging at my clothes, trying to remove my skirt. I pushed him off. That constant shocked expression had disappeared. He looked different. Pinker in the cheeks. He wanted more of me and I’d had enough of him.

“Thank God you’re back. I fell asleep, didn’t find your note at first. I . . . panicked.”

“I went to see your wife.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I wish I hadn’t.”

“I wish you hadn’t either. What did she say?”

“What do you think she said? The usual jealous wife stuff. Do you care?” A strange look came into his eyes. Soft. Thoughtful.

“I don’t want you to disappear like that again.” I stared at him. “What are you saying?” Bill wanted to keep me there. He’d struck gold and fuck, shit, damn and hell – yes, he was expecting I might even like to stay with him!

“Me? Stay here with you in this creepy old house, with all these red and yellow walls – me? You freakin kidding me?”

“We can paint them white – or black – or whatever you want. Just stay, another night, at least. Stay a week. A month. However long you like. I was . . . worried.”

“Why should I stay?”

“For the same reason other imps like you have stayed with men. To be happy. Wouldn’t you like it here? What’s your home like? A hut? A bender made of twigs? An earth-floored cave in the woods? Do you live underground? Eh? What? Surely this must have some appeal?”

“Get lost,” I snarled.

“Always so mean, eh? Is that it? I’m to be chewed up and spat out, is that right?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“And where’s my cat, eh? Choo Choo. Where is he? Scared him off too?”

“Oh, fuck your cat.”

“Have you fucked my cat?” He said this with a knowing smirk.

I threw myself at Bill, tore at him and wreaked my vengeance and distaste on him and their Goddamn marriage. I turned nasty on him, biting him and this time when we were fucking we were like cats fighting. Furniture tumbled around us. Again, I was matched.

Bill pinned me down and then he fucked me senseless and dear-God-in-heaven more than anything – this was not okay. This was why I fled in the first place, to be so taken like this by the very first man ever made. Rape. It was all women were to expect. And so my foremother Lilith ran and ran away from man and God, only to be further humiliated in the desert. She was so angry then, she made daemons, thousands of them every day, her offspring. She became an outcast, forever. I spat at Bill and fought, but he held me down and then he fucked me hard and rough and a pearly liquid gushed from between my legs, a silken waterfall slipping out. My whole body spasmed in the fullness of my orgasm. He could make me come just like that. It was as if he’d learnt the knack. And all the while I thought: I am lost, lost. Go home, get out of here. I was embarrassed, torn open. I hated him then. I didn’t want to look Bill in the eye. He thought he now had some power over me because he could make me gush. When he was done he withdrew, his own body shuddering, his semen still dripping. His cock hadn’t shrivelled with the release, it still looked plump and even ready for more. Bill glowed, exulted with his conquest. I’m sure he thought he’d turned a trick himself. He kissed my stomach. But I was cold to him, cold in my heart.

*****

The Tryst, blurb

By Monique Roffey

London, midsummer night. Jane and Bill meet the mysterious Lilah in a bar. She entrances the couple with half-true, mixed up tales about her life. At closing time, Jane makes an impulsive decision to invite Lilah back to their home. But Jane has made a catastrophic error of judgment, for Lilah is a skilled and ruthless predator, the likes of which few encounter in a lifetime. Isolated and cursed, Jane and Bill are forced to fight for each other, and, in doing so, discover their covert desires.

Part psychological thriller, part contemporary magical realism, The Tryst revisits the tale of Adam’s first wife, Lilith, to examine the secrets of an everyday marriage.

*****

Praise for The Tryst

“What makes The Tryst an unexploded virus isn’t just the quality and brightness of Roffey’s writing on sex, even as it uncovers inner glades between flesh and fantasy where sex resides – but the taunting clarity of why those glades stay covered. A throbbing homewrecker of a tale, too late to call Fifty Shades of Red.”

DBC Pierre, Booker Prize winner

*****

BIOG

Monique Roffey is an award-winning Trinidadian-born writer. Her novels have been translated into five languages and short-listed for major awards including
the Orange Prize, Costa Fiction Award, Encore Award, Orion Award and the OCM Bocas Award for Caribbean Literature. In 2013, Archipelago won the OCM BOCAS Award for Caribbean Literature. Her memoir, With the Kisses of his Mouth, was published in 2011. She is a Lecturer on the MFA in the Novel at Manchester Metropolitan University. She divides her time between the East end of London and Port of Spain, Trinidad.

Buy at Amazon:

UK: http://amzn.to/2snABX2 US: https://www.amazon.com/Tryst-Monique-Roffey-ebook/dp/B072BX51PV/

Book trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=esSTfsbP3P4&sns=em

Twitter: @MoniqueRoffey13

Facebook: @MoniqueRoffeyAuthor

Instagram: @MoniqueRoffey

Website: www.moniqueroffey.com

An Interview with Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester

Today on my blog page I’m delighted to announce I have a guest. I’m interviewing Edwardian dominatrix Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester, who’s just returned from her airship travels across the Empires of Europe. A book entitled ‘Mistress Of The Air’ has just been published containing an account of her adventures.

K D Grace: Hello, Lady Sally, thank you for allowing me to interview you today.

Lady Sally: Indeed. It’s a pleasure to talk with you. Though perhaps I can start by asking you not to stare at my breasts…it’s somewhat disconcerting.

KD: …Oh, yes, hmm, I’m sorry…

LS: I know they are rather magnificent. Indeed, they are great assets, which I use to great effect during my travels but it’s exceedingly rude to stare.

KD: Yes, ladyship it’s just they are…incredible. I’m afraid I can’t take my eyes off them.

LS: Yes, I find that’s often the case… especially for men, though it is often their undoing!

KD: Well, let me change the subject. Can you tell me about your airship?

LS: Yes, of course. The Corsetted Domme is a marvel. She is the largest and fastest dirigible ever to take to the air – a veritable ocean liner of the skies. My designers and engineers have come up with remarkable technological innovations such as the use of a duralumin frame and the geodetic structure of her design.

KD: I believe the domestic quarters are impressive.

LS: Indeed, they are. They are fitted out in teak and brass to my own specification. Naturally, my dressing room is especially large.

KD: Did you take lots of clothes with you?

LS: Yes, of course. I have several wardrobes for my corsetry alone, and then there’s the rubber and fetish wear, and my ball gowns… and my hunting gear. I went to far-flung corners of the continent so had to be prepared for different climates and every eventuality.

KD: Did you take any companions with you on your travels?

LS: Well, my transvestite maid, Victoria, comes everywhere with me. She’s a dilatory dolly at times, but extremely loyal. Then there was my airship pilot, Captain Wyndham. He’s somewhat of a dark horse, I believe. He clearly has a thing for me, indeed as most men do, but will not completely submit to me, which I find rather endearing as I like a challenge. Then there are my two brass automatons, Clarissa, who is the captain’s co-pilot and Borghild who is a sex-doll. Finally, there are my submissive gentlemen, especially chosen to attend me on this trip – a banker, a bishop, a judge and a duke. They have names… but I seem to have forgotten them.

KD: I understand you have lots of adventures across Europe. Where did you travel to?

LS: There were several of my aristocratic relatives I wanted to visit…in Vienna, Potsdam and St Petersburg. Then I simply had to do some shopping in the bazaar in Istanbul, before going to look at the erotic frescos at Pompeii, and then onto the French Empire to receive an award given to me by La Societé D’Aviation Et Les Dirigeables.

KD: That sounds like a well-planned tour.

LS: Hmm. Not exactly. I found I did have to make some hasty retreats because things went wrong. And there was a storm… one or two explosions… and a crash landing along the way. But I won’t spoil anything for your readers by telling you too much about these alarums. Needless to say, I survived them all!

KD: I know you are a woman of the world, Lady Sally, and have many business interests. Perhaps you can tell my readers about some of them.

LS: Yes, that’s very true, I have numerous business interests spread all over the globe. There’s my rubber tree plantation in Malaysia. My manufactory there produces the thinnest latex material for my outfits. I own various tea plantations in India and China which grow a huge variety of teas – I’m something of a connoisseur when it comes to tea. Then there’s a chain of brothels and bars in the wild west, shares in several Parisien burlesque clubs. Last but not least, of course, there’s my brass mine in Zanzibar…

KD: Brass mine? But surely br…

LS: … Yes, my mine produces the finest quality brass in the world…

KD: But isn’t br..

LS: …and my brass has a lustre and sheen that’s unrivalled. It’s especially valued by automaton manufacturers, you know.

KD: Perhaps I ought to move onto another subject. Do you have any hobbies?

LS: I’m very busy and don’t really find time for that kind of thing… unless one counts collecting antique whips and floggers?

KD: As an author of BDSM books, I’d be interested to hear about your particular style of domination. For instance, how do you feel about after-care or use of safe words?

LS: Excuse me, I don’t understand. What is this safe word that you speak of?

KD: You know, a special word you give to a submissive to stop play if it becomes too intense?

LS: Certainly not! My submissive gentlemen are required to obey my every whim, and if there should be one or two electrocutions or explosions along the way, then so be it!

KD: Oh, I see. And lastly, perhaps you can tell me about the worst experience you had on your travels?

LS: Well, that’s easy. Whilst visiting the Princess Maria Labiastein in Vienna I was served coffee…and at tea time! How disgusting. Her apple strudel was good though… but, I ask you, what’s the point of a fine patisserie if you don’t have a decent cup of tea to wash it down. I have vowed never to visit Vienna again!

KD: Thank you Lady Sally, it’s been most enlightening.

Mistress of the AirBook Blurb

Mistress of the Air is a Comic, Steampunk, Erotic Adventure.

Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester owns a brass mine in Zanzibar, a Lapsang Souchong tea plantation in China, a rubber tree farm in Malaysia, trunk loads of corsetry, and the country’s largest collection of antique whips and floggers.

Larger than life, and itching to find new and inventive ways to punish her submissive gentlemen, the Edwardian dominatrix has a vision. Embracing the spirit of the new age of aviation, she embarks on a series of adventures on her own airship, The Corseted Domme, with her transvestite maid, Victoria, her airship pilot, Captain Wyndham, and her automaton sex toy, Borghild.

A select group of submissive gentlemen, consisting of a duke, bishop, lawyer and banker, is invited to join Lady Sally so she can try out her new dastardly devices and sex toys on them. She whips, spanks and punishes her way across the Empires of Europe, dropping off to visit her aristocratic relatives and friends for afternoon tea.

But Lady Sally’s journey is not uneventful. War is threatening to break out and the Ministry of Aviation want to commandeer her airship for the war effort. And when The Corseted Domme has a crash landing, Lady Sally realises there is a stowaway on board intent on sabotaging her airship.

There will be wild escapades, kinky BDSM, dastardly devices, explosions and nice cups of tea.

Buy links

Ebook

Amazon US (Kindle): http://amzn.to/2qsu64J

Amazon UK (Kindle): http://amzn.to/2pxDBhr

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/mistress-of-the-air-s-nano/1126181430?ean=9781545250242

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/mistress-of-the-air

Print

Amazon US (print): https://www.amazon.com/Mistress-Air-S-Nano/dp/1545250243/

Amazon UK (print): https://www.amazon.co.uk/Mistress-Air-S-Nano/dp/1545250243/

Create space/eXcessica (print): https://www.createspace.com/7078177

Extract

They arrived back at the mast where The Corseted Domme was moored to be met by a moustached gentleman in a bowler hat and pin-striped suit.

“Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester?” he enquired.

“Yes, that is me. What can I do for you?”

“I’m from the British Consulate in Essen. I am to deliver this letter to you from the Ministry of War. I’ve been directed to accompany you back to England with your airship, it’s being requisitioned by the Ministry.”

Lady Sally opened the letter and read it. It basically reiterated the message the gentleman had just conveyed. She passed it to Captain Wyndham to read.

“I’m sorry, Lady Sally,” he said, with genuine sympathy and disappointment. “And so soon after you’d set off on your adventures.”

She fixed the captain with a piercing and meaningful gaze.

“Indeed. Leave this to me captain. I shall discuss the arrangements with the gentleman from the Ministry here. In the meantime, I suggest you take the cargo aboard and fire up the engines so we can make as quick a departure as possible… for the benefit of the man from the Ministry, of course.”

She was plotting something, “Of course Lady Sally, I’ll have her ready to set off as soon as madam is aboard.”

“Thank you, captain,” she said, turning back to the gentleman as Wyndham and Victoria heaved the crate into the lift in the mooring tower.

“Well, I can’t deny I’m not disappointed, sir, but never mind, these things happen. Stiff upper lip and all that, what? You are most welcome on The Corseted Domme, I’m sure you’ll find me most accommodating.”

Lady Sally did indeed have a plan.

Stage one: play for time and lure one’s victim into a false sense of security.

“Let it not be said Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester is not a hospitable host. We must partake of some tea when we board. I’m sure you must be parched waiting out here for so long. How tiresome for you. I recommend a nice cup of Darjeeling. It makes a very refreshing brew. Did you know the leaves come from my own plantation in the foothills of the Himalayas? I am something of an expert on the subject and take pride in ensuring only the most fragrant of leaves are used in my teas…”

Lady Sally proceeded to describe her plantations in great detail and the flavours of the teas grown on them. She gave a lecture on the benefits of tea drinking (so much more invigorating than that horrid, bitter coffee stuff) and explained how the British Empire was built on tea drinking.

Eventually, after a ten-minute diatribe, Lady Sally heard the engines fire up.

Stage two: make best use of one’s assets

“Oh dear, all this talk of tea has made me quite hot and bothered.”

She removed the velvet mantle from her shoulders. Her breasts, pushed up by the corset under her dress, were beautiful orbs of white flesh. The man from the Ministry, being somewhat shorter than Lady Sally, had a view right down her cleavage. It never failed. Lady Sally had found that every male, when faced with a pair of such magnificent boobs, would lose all concentration and sense. Throughout her life this was a weakness she had learnt to exploit.

Stage three: act swiftly.

She brought her knee up into his testicles. Lady Sally’s aim was very precise; it came from years of practise. She knew the exact spot to cause the most excruciating pain. The man from the Ministry doubled up in agony.

Stage four: press home one’s advantage.

With the gentleman bent over clutching his aching balls, Lady Sally wasted no time in pushing him against the metal frame of the mooring tower. She produced coils of thin cord from within the confines of the velvet dress, and within seconds had the man’s wrists secured to the tower. She soon had his ankles tied together. The man from the Ministry did not know what had hit him.

“You dally with England’s strictest dominatrix at your peril, sir. The Corseted Domme is built for pleasure… my pleasure, and I will not have her used for any other purpose, certainly not to propagate any pointless war. I bid you good day, sir. This is a busy airship station so I expect somebody will be along soon to release you.”

At that, Lady Sally left her unfortunate victim tied to the mooring tower, and headed off for her airship.

She burst into the control room. The engines were already thrumming, and the propellers whirring. Captain Wyndham was ready for launch and Clarissa had her brass hand clutched on the tiller ready to operate the elevators.

“Set off now, captain. We need to get away as soon as possible.”

The captain gave the order to release the cable from the mooring tower. In an instance the giant dirigible reversed, turning around in one sweeping movement, and accelerated up into the air.

“Where’s the man from the Ministry?” asked Captain Wyndham.

“He’s a little tied up at the moment.”

The captain laughed. He knew Lady Sally was planning something, “How did you manage that?”

“As a strict dominatrix, I always carry rope in my undergarments, one never knows when one might require some. Oh, and I kneed him in the balls too.”

About the author

S. Nano is an author of erotic stories with dark and exotic content in fantasy, paranormal or historical settings, often drawing on the themes of female supremacy, BDSM and fetish but with a seam of quirky humour running through them as well.

His first full-length erotic novel, ‘Adventures in Fetishland’, a BDSM/fetish re-invention of Alice in Wonderland, was published by Xcite Books. His short stories and novellas have been published by Xcite Books, House of Erotica, Forbidden Fiction, Coming Together and Greenwoman Publishing.

His second novel, ‘Mistress Of The Air’ was published by eXcessica on 21st April 2017.

Web site: www.slavenano.co.uk/writing

Blog: www.slavenano.co.uk/blog

Facebook (Nano Vaslen): http://www.facebook.com/nano.vaslen

Mistress Of The Air facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/Mistress-Of-The-Air-1671491076492099/

Pinterest: http://uk.pinterest.com/nanovaslen/

Amazon UK author profile: http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B005EBU1QI

Amazon US author profile: https://www.amazon.com/Slave-Nano/e/B005EBU1QI/

Goodreads author profile: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/6828376-slave-nano

*****

GIVEAWAY!

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

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Blog tour organized by Writer Marketing Services.

Festive Fantasies with Kay Jaybee

It’s my pleasure to have my dear friend and fab writer, Kay Jaybee back with some holiday heat just for you.

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Hello all, its Kay Jaybee here- many thanks to my lovely friend, Kd Grace, for allowing me to gatecrash her site again!

 

As an early Christmas Present to you all, I’m currently selling my Christmas Kink anthology at ONLY 99p/c!!

 

I love writing Christmas stories. There is something about playing with tinsel, spices and the prospect of the office Christmas party that brings out the kinkster in me- even more than usual!

I’m something of a big kid when it comes to the festive season. It is the only time of year that I actually enjoy shopping and cooking. There is something so rewarding about it- I guess I’m a softy at heart. I just adore making other people happy, and to find the perfect gift for friends and family is a mission I embark on with gusto.

An extension of this “making people smile at Christmas” mission is to try and provide my loyal readers with something seasonally smutty every winter – such as my anthology of six festive fantasies…Christmas Kink.

 

 

Lady in red skirt undressing

 

 

Christmas Kink 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 six individual episodes of hot erotica that will leave you fanning yourself with the nearest Christmas card…

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 mini taster from the first story in Christmas Kink

 

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 99pthe 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…’

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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 for ONLY 99p/c for a limited time.

 

Amazon.com

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00GI2DDQM

 

Amazon UK

 http://www.amazon.co.uk/Christmas-Kink-Five-Festive-Fantasies-ebook/dp/B00GI2DDQM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1383810527&sr=8-1&keywords=Christmas+kink+five+festive+fantasies

 

Many thanks for letting me pop by today!

 

Merry Christmas to you all!!

Kay xx

 

About Kay Jaybee:

Kay Jaybee was named Best Erotica Writer of 2015 by the ETO

Kay received an honouree mention at the NLA Awards 2015 for excellence in BDSM writing.

Kay Jaybee has over 180 erotica publications including, The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (The Perfect Submissive, The Retreat, Knowing Her Place, Xcite 2011-14), The New Room, (Xcite, 2015), The Voyeur, (Xcite 2012), Making Him Wait (Sweetmeats, 2012), The Collector (KDP, 2016), A Sticky Situation (Xcite, 2013), Digging Deep, (Xcite 2013), Take Control, (1001 NightsPress, 2014), and Not Her Type (1001 NightsPress, 2013.

Details of all her short stories and other publications can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk

You can follow Kay on –

Twitter- https://twitter.com/kay_jaybee

Facebook –http://www.facebook.com/KayJaybeeAuthor99c

Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/3541958-kay-jaybee

Brit Babes Site- http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk/p/kay-jaybee.html

Kay also writes contemporary romance and children’s picture books as Jenny Kane www.jennykane.co.uk and historical fiction as Jennifer Ash www.jenniferash.co.uk

 

Emmanuelle de Maupassant Talks About Women Writing the Erotic

I can’t tell you how excited I am to have Emmanuelle de Maupassant as my guest today. If anyone knows the hearts and minds of women writing the erotic, Emmanuelle does. She knows because she’s interviewed nearly a hundred of them — I’m honoured to be one  — and many of you have been reading her fascinating articles with their very personal, very honest, view into the minds of  these amazing woman. If you haven’t but would like to, find them all on Emmanuelle’s Blog. Today she is going to share a little overview of her findings with a Hopeful Romantic.

 

Having interviewed almost a hundred women authors who explore sexuality through their fiction, Emmanuelle de Maupassant has created a series of articles capturing their thoughts on the importance of the ‘erotic’ genre.

 

Here, she gives us a glimpse at her findings.

 

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I’m delighted to say that more women than ever are letting rip on the page, opening up their sexual imagination. We continue to battle for equal rights, respect and recognition, across every sphere imaginable, but when it comes to erotic fiction, our feet are firmly under the table.

 

Of course, there are some truly talented men writing erotic fiction too. Many would argue that gender is irrelevant in how we approach the page as writers: that we have the ability to portray any human being, from any time in history, and from anywhere.

 

It’s certainly true that some elements of the human condition are universal.

 

We all know what it is to love, to despair, to smile, or to regret. We know the fragility of life and we share wonder in the world we inhabit. And yet, as women, aren’t we best placed to portray what it’s like to walk in our skin?

 

Writing Women’s Sexuality

 

 As little girls, we’re taught all the things we should never mention, and never do; for many of us, it’s a lifelong journey to free ourselves of inhibition.

 

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Adrea Kore reminds us, “Women writing and speaking about their own desire, being open with what gives them pleasure and turns them on … even finding the words for that is something that is still seen as taboo in corners of Western culture, let alone in comparison to cultures where women are more repressed ideologically, and socially.”

 

In expressing our understanding of our sexual self, looking at how erotic impulse shapes us, we recognize that we are more than intellect, and more than emotion. We are also ‘of the body’.

 

Tabitha Rayne notes that writing erotic fiction, “felt like discovering a new colour‘ and ‘opening a door to myself.”‘

 

Kristina Lloyd echoes this, saying, “Through writing, I’ve learned so much about my own sexuality and desire.”

 

Rose Caraway, speaking of her work in audio narration of erotic fiction, tells us, “Together, we’re helping people awaken… Each story narrated acknowledges sexuality, our own and others’, because it’s being read aloud. Those words want to be heard, making us stronger, so that we can better express and own our sexuality.”

 

Erotica is diverse as a genre, in content and style. We’re individuals, each with our tastes, our own ‘kinks’ and our own fantasies. Really, the possibilities are infinite!

 

With that in mind, a strong response coming through was that writers want to look beyond common ‘formulas’ in fiction. They want to write the unexpected. They want to explore not only our passions but our vulnerabilities, and our flaws. They want to show what drives us to make certain choices and the consequences of those decisions.

KD Grace asserts, “Few actions can change a story more dramatically than sex properly placed. I can’t imagine trying to tell a story without sex included. Neither can I imagine writing sex that isn’t an integral part of a story.”

 

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Mirrors to versions of the ‘self’

In exploring the psychology of desire, erotic fiction has the power to delve not just our fantasies but our truths. It holds a mirror to versions of our ‘self’ rarely let out in polite company.

It commonly explores themes of identity, of connection, of yearning, of truth and deceit, of freedom and constraint.

Erotic fiction lends itself to exploration of ‘grey areas of morality’, as Tobsha Learner calls them: to the small lies we tell ourselves, and to the ways in which we manipulate or make use of others.

 

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Remittance Girl states her desire ‘to write what frightens and unsettles us, as well as what delights us’. 

Erotic fiction has the potential not only to electrify us sexually but to deliver a punch to the emotional gut and to caress our intellect. Like all great storytelling, it has the power to provoke us at many levels.

 

Adrea Kore emphasizes, “Erotica writes into areas of the human sexual psyche and behaviour that some genres gloss over or shy away from. Erotica brings into the light contradictions between our inner sexual desires and our outward behaviour. What do we secretly long for, and to attain that, what lengths would we go to?”

 

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Fantasy v. Realism

Fantasy (all the ‘what ifs’ of our imagination) is a well-recognized aspect of erotic fiction. If not here then where else can we explore ‘the forbidden’. Janine Ashbless sees fiction as ‘a safe area in which to let our darker selves, our fears and our desires, out for a little exercise…’

It may seem contradictory to seek out greater realism within erotic fiction but many writers assert a desire to create recognizable, diverse characters (for instance, of all ages, and who vary from typical ideals of physical ‘perfection’) and characters with psychological depth, to better allow readers to empathize, and enter into alternate possibilities.

KD Grace explains, “I’m sick to death of weak, cardboard women being written as subs and mean, unlikable, men being written as Doms (or, even worse, as really creepy, stalker types). I want depth, I want a connection that has more to do with what drives the characters, and with the chemistry between them, and less to do with the trappings.”

 

Why Read Erotic Fiction

 

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Reading Erotic fiction can open our eyes to new understanding of our sexuality (and our broader psyche). It encourages us to push aside shame and it empowers us to express our needs and desires. For many of us, it’s the catalyst in finding our sexual voice. It can help erode sexual stigma, encouraging women, and men, to voice their desire more honestly.

Tobsha Learner notes the struggle to find ‘a sexy word for vagina – something that purrs as well as has claws’. Her comment is playful but she touches upon an issue at the heart of women’s writing of the erotic.

Our sexuality is multi-layered, and the ways in which we express our desire are just as complex. We are fluid. We are changeable. We are the tiger and we are the pussy cat.

We, as writers, are exploring the many facets of desire.

We are liberating our voices.

As the reader, you can liberate yours too.

 

To read the full series of articles, or to find out more about erotic fiction, visit Emmanuelle’s website: www.emmanuelledemaupassant.com

 

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About Emmanuelle: 

Emmanuelle de Maupassant lives with her husband (maker of fruit cake) and her hairy pudding terrier. She is the author of ‘The Gentlemen’s Club’ (recommended by Stylist Magazine as one of the sexiest reads of 2015) and of ‘Cautionary Tales’ (inspired by Slavonic superstitions and folklore).

You can find Emmanuelle on Amazon: viewAuthor.at/EmdeM

On Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EMaupassant

And on Twitter: https://twitter.com/EmmanuelledeM