Tag Archives: Justine Elyot

Finding My Self-Publishing Self by Justine Elyot

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It’s always a pleasure to have Justine Elyot over on mine. Not only is she a good friend and colleague, but she’s one of my fave erotica writers, and I’m really excited today because she’s going to talk a bit about her first experience with self-publishing. Welcome back, Justine!

When I were but a lass, there was definitely a stigma attached to self-publishing. Consumer rights shows on TV such as That’s Life often featured vanity presses – shoddy outfits run by unscrupulous gits who would prey on the dreams of the unpublished in order to take their money. Self-publishing proper would only be undertaken by those with the funds to pay for printing and PR. Hardly anyone, then.

Then, digital publishing happened, and everything changed. Self-publishing has gone from a vaguely embarrassing ego trip to a genuinely viable alternative to the traditional method. It seemed like a good time to give it a whirl.

I had on my hands a story that was a bit too short for some publishers and too long for others. It was also somewhat gentler and more vanilla than my usual style and I wasn’t at all sure where it would fit. So I decided to do it myself.

I’ll confess here that it isn’t the first time. I tried it three years ago, through Smashwords and, while it wasn’t terribly difficult, the manual was long and the sales were negligible. But Amazon’s new Kindle Direct Publishing seemed to be changing the game a bit so, after a bit of a confab with a knowledgeable friend, I decided to go for it.

Boy, was it easy. I was prepared to spend days up to my eyes in formatting hell, but no. I opened my account, clicked a few tickboxes, uploaded my file and…go. Well, almost go.

First I had to wrestle with cover art. I’m not good at wrestling, and I’m even worse at cover art. My first attempt has, happily, been excised from history after the brilliant Emmy Ellis came to my rescue and donated this little beauty.

Ask No Questions

It’s been three weeks now, and I can’t say sales have been stellar, but I have the KDP Select weapon of five days free promotion lined up in my arsenal and I’ll be interested to see if it makes a difference.

By signing up to the Select programme, I commit to making the story exclusive to Amazon for 90 days. After that, I can place it on whichever other sites I like. Is it worth it? I don’t know. I’m using this story, in effect, as a walkthrough for a forthcoming novel publication, to teach myself the ropes. It’s an interesting and fun learning experience, and if you fancy going for it, I’d encourage you.

But…what about the book itself? I (don’t) hear you ask!

Ask No Questions is a 32,000 word novella about a sheep farmer and the mysterious pair of legs he finds in his barn during a rainstorm. (The pair of legs is attached to a person, you may be relieved to hear.)

Excerpt? Why, it would be a pleasure!

He gritted his teeth, awaiting Kim’s response, feeling guilty for bringing her this far without thinking of the consequences, not to mention furious with himself. Actually, it was the lump in his trousers that was most furious of all, but he wasn’t about to let it have its way and override his common sense, tempted as he was.

She propped herself on her elbows, blinking at him.

“And?”

“Well, you know. No…protection.”

“Do I need protection from you?”

“Look, I can go to the chemist first thing in the morning but ―”

“Well, that’s all right then. You can do that. And meanwhile…don’t tell me you’ve never heard of all the other things you can do, Mr Demon Lover?”

“Of course I know about the other things.” He began to take off his shirt, his heartbeat regulating, his hopes rising once more. It was OK. It would be OK. “Believe me, I know all about them.”

“That’s good,” said Kim, faux-innocent. “Because I have no idea at all. Please show me what they are.”

He threw his shirt aside and pounced back down on her, bare-chested, hovering over her luscious naked body. She laced her fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him further down so that when he spoke, their lips touched.

“You know fine well, madam,” he said. “You can’t pull the wool over my eyes.”

“Well, you’d know all about wool.”

He nipped at her lip, a warning, then smiled devilishly and shimmied back down until he knelt between her thighs once more.

“You’re not the only one who can tease, remember,” he said, reminding her with a thumbnail flick to one of her nipples.

“Oh God, don’t start that again,” she begged, bucking her spine.

He answered by bending and taking a nipple in his mouth, sucking luxuriously and unhurriedly while she kicked her heels and beat her fists on the rug. This was how he wanted her – frustrated beyond endurance, desperate for everything he could give.

She tried so many different tactics to move him towards her pussy – stealth, force, sweet requests, demands – but he was only going there when he was good and ready, and her nipples were as swollen as they could be.

Finally he released his engorged little captives and knelt up again. He held her eyes as his hand moved down her stomach, prodding at her navel, then lower. He placed his palm flat on her mons.

“Want it?” he asked softly.

“You know, oh God. Yes.”

He dipped his forefinger inside her lips, gathering juice from the pink swirls surrounding her clit. He could see it clearly – it was far out of hiding, as if declaring itself open to him. Come and get me. You bet I will, he said to himself.

But first he removed his finger and sucked the juice from it, watching as Kim’s face contorted with further agonies of arousal. The first taste on his tongue, the sweetest in years.

“Want some?” he whispered, harvesting more and putting his finger to Kim’s lips this time.

 

If you want to read more, Ask No Questions is available from…but I’m sure you’ve already worked it out…AMAZON!

Amazon US
Amazon UK

The Allure of the Abbey by Justine Elyot

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I’m very excited to have my dear friend and fabulous writer, Justine Elyot, back on A Hopeful Romantic today to talk about her yummy new book, Secrets and Lords. Welcome, Justine!

 

Secrets and LordsAre you devoted to Downton? Downton Abbey, that is, the smash-hit TV drama of early 20th century aristocratic life?

I’ll admit, I must be pretty close to the ideal viewer for this kind of show. I’ve been addicted to costume dramas since I was a wee nipper dressing up in my mum’s silk petticoats and strings of pearls (and, of course, the frocks have a lot to do with the fandom). Add a dash of angst, above and below stairs, and some light history and I’m sold.

Of course, there is sex in Downton, but it tends to lead to babies, scandal or even death (as in the case of the unfortunate Turkish diplomat, Kemal Pamuk). For me, then, it proved inspiring. A house like Downton Abbey, I should think, would have been an intense sexual pressure cooker – attractions, affairs, courtships, illicit liaisons all going on beneath the perfectly-ordered and luxurious surface.

Thus was conceived my novel, Secrets and Lords. Deverell Hall may bear a passing resemblance to Downton Abbey, and the story is set in 1920, shortly after the end of the First World War, but there the similarities end. The Deverell family is riddled with secrets, and the staff are just as bad. Lord Deverell, the head of the clan, is just about the only member of it who can claim to be straightforward; the rest of them present a face to the world that poorly represents their real selves.

Into this web of deception and intrigue comes Edie, a young London woman whose application for the job of housemaid conceals a secret agenda of her own…

If you enjoy feathers and fans, flirtations and, uh, maybe some other stuff that begins with F, then this book might be for you.

Blurb:

Illicit liaisons and unspoken attractions fill the stately home from wall to wall until something will have to give…

From the author of ‘On Demand’ and ‘Kinky’, Justine Elyot’s ‘Secrets and Lords’ is a seductive erotic novel perfect for anyone who loves Downton Abbey.

The summer of 1920 will be the hottest at Deverell Hall for years.

Lord Deverell’s new wife has the house in thrall to her theatrical glamour. His womanising son, Sir Charles, has his eye on anything female that moves while his beautiful daughter, Mary, is feeling more than a little restless. And why does his younger son, Sir Thomas, spend so much time in the company of the second footman?

Into this simmering tension comes new parlour maid, Edie, with a secret of her own – a secret that could blow the Deverell family dynamic to smithereens.

The book is available from 30th May from Mischief Books. Pre-order from Amazon:

Amazon UK
Amazon US

The Story Behind In His House of Submission by Justine Elyot

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The Story Behind The Story

 

It’s a pleasure to have back as my guest on The Story Behind the Story one of my very favourite writers and an all-around fab person, Justine Elyot. Welcome back, Justine!

 

Consuming Passions?

Here I am, taking shameless advantage of K D’s hospitality again, with a Mischief Petite Novel to tell you about.

It’s October now and the leaves are on the ground, but for this story we have to revisit the summer. I hope yours was a good one. Sarah’s certainly was.

In His House of Submission, history graduate Sarah Wells has taken a summer job archiving the antique treasures at the substantial home of famous film director, Jasper Jay. From the start, they have a shared passion – they both love things that have a past.

That’s not the only interest they have in common either, as Sarah soon finds out when she stumbles across his vast collection of BDSM paraphernalia.

Are the passions that bind them together strong enough to withstand other forces in their lives that conspire to keep them apart, though? Here’s an excerpt:

I presented myself for breakfast in the kitchen in my usual long skirt and top-and-scarf combo. He stopped me before I sat down and asked me to show him my underwear.

I almost asked why, but checked myself in time. Instead, I silently pulled up my top and then lifted my skirt, my pulse racing. Despite the soreness below, I felt ready to take more of him, tingling with the shameful joy of submission.

‘Too much,’ he said. ‘Go upstairs and take it off. You aren’t going to need underwear for the next six weeks. Unless I ask you to wear it. Go on, then.’ He waved the spatula at me. I could imagine that being quite a useful spanking implement.

When I came back down, he beckoned me over to the counter, where he was buttering toast. With his other hand, he felt my breasts through the thin cotton top, rubbing at my nipples until they stood out through the fabric, bullet-hard and unmistakable. When that was done to his satisfaction, he lifted my skirt and checked for the presence of knickers. Finding none, he rewarded me with a luscious, filthy, grope-filled snog.

‘Sit down,’ he said, sliding eggs on to the toast before sorting out more coffee. ‘But you have to raise your skirt. I want your bare bottom touching the seat. And you can lift up your top too. And keep your legs wide apart.’

Sitting like that, with my top bunched over the top of my breasts and my thighs split while the varnished wooden seat chilled my bare bum, I couldn’t escape the reality of my submission. It was profound and absolute, and it was going to touch every aspect of my daily life.

Jasper watched me, smiling slyly, as he dug into his breakfast. I could barely touch mine, my appetite killed by the overwhelming presence of sex in the air around me, touching my skin, feeding itself into me.

‘Eat up,’ he said, pointing at my plate with his knife. ‘You need it, girl. I’ve plans for you.’

It was an order. I had to obey.

I made a decent attempt at eating my eggs, but the toast stuck in my throat. The coffee didn’t help, so strong it gave me jitters. I spilled a drop and it landed on my nipple, making me gasp and almost make a sound. But I managed not to.

Jasper tutted and dabbed my nipple with some kitchen roll, for much longer than was strictly necessary. Then he kissed it better.

Dropping down between my knees, he had a good long look at my widespread pussy, prodding at it until I winced.

‘That’s a well-fucked pussy,’ he diagnosed. ‘Swollen and red, it is. I think we’ll have to take it a bit easy today. But there are lots of things we can do that don’t involve the old in-out. Aren’t there?’

He raised flashing eyes to me.

I bit my lip and made a gesture intended to convey the phrase, ‘You tell me.’

He smiled. ‘So much to learn.’

 

If you want to know what Sarah learns from – and teaches – Jasper, here’s some more information.

Justine Elyot His House of SubmissionHe’s a collector with some kinky interests on the side. She’s here to catalogue his possessions. But will she end up being one of them?

Sarah turns up at Jasper Jay’s country house thinking she has been hired to make an inventory of his large collection of historical artefacts. But when she and her lover, Will, are caught by the boss sneaking a peek at some of his more private pieces, she starts to suspect an ulterior motive. Alone with Jasper Jay in his secluded manor, Sarah finds herself enthralled by the enigmatic collector, especially given the intimate interest she shares with him. Pretty soon, they’re entangled in an intense relationship of domination and submission that excludes the rest of the world. Until it intrudes, in the form of a vengeful Will, bent on exposing everything his erstwhile boss has worked so hard to keep secret.

It’s available right now in all the best e-formats from Mischief Books: http://www.mischiefbooks.com/books/his-house-submission/

Thanks to KD for having me again! And thanks to everyone for reading.

Justine Elyot Shares the Story Behind Hungarian Rhapsody

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It’s my pleasure to welcome back one of my favourite writers and a really fab chick, Justine Elyot. Justine is here with the story behind her Secret Library novella, Hungarian Rhapsody from the anthology for which it’s the title story.

Ahh, Budapest. The obvious setting for my Xcite Secret Library novella, Hungarian Rhapsody, for after all, haven’t I strolled its boulevards and admired its attractions on many occasions? Actually, no. I’ve never been to Budapest. So what possessed me to set a story in a city I’ve only visited in my imagination?

I think it was the chance to ‘live’ in that city, even if only virtually, that drew me towards the idea. I spent a long time on tourist sites and all kinds of other interesting byways. Youtube, for example, has some fascinating documentary footage of life in Budapest in the 1950s and 60s, to which I became quite addicted.

So I thought today I’d do a little guide to those city locations that are featured in the story.

I’m starting with the Széchenyi Baths. Oh, how I long to visit these… I mean, look at them.

All that beautiful warm water, overlooked by that fabulous baroque yellow palace. What could be more alluring? Maybe going there with János, as lucky Ruby in the story gets to do…

Later in the tale, Ruby fends off a hangover with a day’s sightseeing. János takes her to the Fisherman’s Bastion in old Buda and promptly invents a tradition that involves kissing. Cheeky whatsit! But a kiss in the Fisherman’s Bastion must be worth several anywhere else.

János’ ambition is to buy up a decaying old Budapest courtyard and turn it into a fashionable bar. Romkocsma (ruin bars) like Szimpla Kert have been popular in the city for a few years now. Doesn’t it look atmospheric?

I hope you’ve enjoyed this miniature tour. All it’s done for me is make me even more avid to visit. Maybe I’ll follow in Ruby’s footsteps and head out there. Maybe I’ll even find a János in my bed…

 

Blurb:

Ruby had no idea what to expect from her trip to Budapest, but a strange man in her bed on her first night probably wasn’t it. Once the mistake is ironed out, though, and introductions made, she finds herself strangely drawn to the handsome Hungarian, despite her vow of holiday celibacy. Does Janos have what it takes to break her resolve and discover the secrets she is hiding, or will she be able to resist his increasingly wild seduction tactics? Against the romantic backdrop of a city made for lovers, personalities clash. They also bump. And grind.

 Buy link: http://www.xcitebooks.co.uk/Book/6789/The-Secret-Library.html

Find Justine here: http://justineelyot.com/

Holly on Top! A position I Could Get Used To!

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It seemed like a small thing, something I wouldn’t have even noticed if the eagle-eyed Lucy Felthouse hadn’t brought it to my attention. I’m talking about an article in the online Fe-Mail segment of the Daily Mail. It was entitled:

EXCLUSIVE: Loved Fifty Shades of Grey? Sexpert Tracey Cox brings you THE ultimate guide to ‘mummy porn’ with her definitive steamy reading list

The Initiation of Ms Holly was on Ms Cox’s list with a 9 out of 10 rating! Needless to say I was over the moon. I passed on the link to everyone then happily went on about my business until my wonderfully supportive Other Half, who is much more a checker of charts and ratings than I am, since I’m always afraid if I look I’ll jinx it, called to let me know that Holly had suddenly gone to number twelve in the Amazon UK erotica charts! By bedtime last night, The Initiation of Ms Holly was number one on the Amazon UK erotic fiction charts and had made substantial leaps over all in the UK and the US, and suddenly replacing Holly in the middle of the top 100, where it had been hovering for quite some time, was The Pet Shop! Needless to say, It’s been a wild twelve hours! By the time I got up this morning, Holly was number two, just below The Story of O.

The Initiation of Ms Holly bed time Wednesday night.

It’s such an exciting time for erotic fiction right now. I’ve always believed that erotica and erotic romance would eventually dovetail with romance. Clearly we’re seeing that happen. But I could have never foreseen such an open-armed embrace of erotica in general. Ebooks, the internet, and the changing landscape of publishing have opened doors I don’t think any of us could have imagined five years ago.

Who’d have ever thought that my getting stuck in a train in the Eurostar tunnel several years ago would end up with Holly on topJ? And to celebrate Holly’s success, I’m including an excerpt from one my most often requested segments when I do a reading from The Initiation of Ms Holly. Enjoy!

Blurb:             

Journalist, Rita Holly, never dreamed sex with the mysterious Edward in the dark of a malfunctioning train would lead to a blindfolded, champagne-drenched tango, a spanking by a butch waitress, and an offer of initiation into the exclusive mysteries of The Mount. Desperate to save her threatened job, she agrees, scheming secretly to write an inside exposé on the club that will make her career. But as she delves deeper into the intrigue of The Mount and the lives of its members, she soon discovers that her heart may have other plans.

Excerpt:

Morgan walked around behind Rita to take in the over-all effect. ‘Ever ridden a Harley?’

‘Motorcycle? No.’

‘Don’t look so frightened, sweetness. I’ve been riding since I was a pup.’ His lips curled into an edible smile. ‘I promise I’ll make it good for you.’

He knelt and helped her into the boots, lingering to suckle her toes and kiss her insteps before guiding her feet into the soft insides then slowly zipping them up and up and up. At last he stood and held the bomber jacket for her. ‘Our steed awaits.’

Outside a few neighbourhood teenagers had gathered around to admire the biggest, sleekest vintage Hog Rita had ever seen, complete with silver wings painted stylistically across the petrol tank along with the words, Pegasus III. It took her a few seconds to realize that the boys’ attention had shifted away from the Harley. ‘Could we please go,’ she whispered, feeling like she did in her dreams when she found herself suddenly naked at the office or in the queue at Sainsbury’s.

But Morgan took his time buckling her into the helmet, making sure it wasn’t too tight, making certain she wasn’t claustrophobic. When she started to get on behind him, he shook his head, scooted back slightly and patted the leather seat in front of him.

She balked. ‘Isn’t that illegal?’

‘Not if we don’t get caught.’ He patted the spot in front of him again and chuckled. ‘Trust me. It’s the best seat in the house.’

Trying to ignore the mutterings and the stares of the teenagers, she climbed on the Harley in front of him, a little less gracefully than she had planned. Fortunately the resulting blush was contained within the helmet.

Morgan knew only one speed and that was suicidal. The g-force of acceleration strong-armed her back against his chest with a yelp that was thankfully drowned out by the roar of the Hog. It seemed to her that Morgan was taking the fastest way out of town, weaving in and out of traffic with such terrifying maneuvers that she feared heart failure was imminent. They had only gone a few blocks when she gave up shouting at him to stop. He either couldn’t hear, or was ignoring her.

As the traffic lessened, and he headed out the A3, she realized he was controlling the Hog with one hand. The other arm was wrapped low around her waist. There was an electronic crackle next to her ear, and his voice filled the inside of her helmet. They had contact. ‘Just relax, sweetness. This is gonna be so good.’

His hand slid lower on her belly until it rested against her pubic bone where it began to fumble until she felt a tug and a zip, and suddenly cool air bathed a horizontal swath of flesh exposed to the night. ‘I love zippers. Don’t you?’ His voice was like a kiss against her earlobe.

There was more tugging and zipping until she felt the pressure of the cat suit lessen against her crotch, as though she had just split her trousers. She caught her breath.

‘Mmm, there. Oh that’s nice.’ His voice was inside her helmet again just before his fingers slid down between her folds and pressed up into her in such a way that the vibration of the big bike beneath them seemed amplified as though it were a giant vibrator. She was suddenly in danger of forgetting that she was in danger of losing life and limb. My God, the bloke’s fingers were expressive as he slipped the middle one deep into her cunt while his thumb raked her pebble-hard clit.

He swerved to pass a lorry. ‘We’re gonna die!’ she yelped inside her helmet. Then she bore down against his hand and the vibration of the Hog, hoping he could keep from crashing until after she came.

She didn’t know if he had heard her yelp, but she wondered if he’d heard her thoughts. ‘Lift your bottom,’ his velvety voice filled her helmet again.

‘Are you crazy?’ She gasped.

‘Trust me. Lift your bottom. Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe. I promised Edward, didn’t I?’

She held her breath, cursing between her teeth, and struggled to do as he said. She grabbed on to the petrol tank until she was sure her fingernails would dig holes in the paint. Then she squealed as another zipping loosened the hug of the cat suit even further until she was certain the whole crotch of the garment had been zipped away. As if to confirm her suspicions, Morgan’s large hand now stroked her from behind, spreading her lips.

‘Sweet Jesus, you’re slippery, kitten. I believe you really like riding a Hog.’ Then she felt him inch forward on the seat.

He wouldn’t… Surely he couldn’t… ‘Oh my God,’ she gasped. What was crowding against her bottom and nestling up to her pout was too thick and too stiff to be his finger.

‘That’s my girl,’ came the voice in her helmet. ‘Lift your bottom for me. Just a tiny bit more now. Almost there. I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.’ He tightened his arm around her and maneuvered his hips. ‘That’s it, oh yes that’s the place I want to be. Jesus, Rita Holly that’s some hot pussy you got there.’ Then all she could hear was accelerated breathing followed by a hard thrust that nearly sent her over the handle bars but for the strong arm wrapped around her. And he was in. Her pussy felt like it would split in two from the sudden, unexpected fullness.

‘That’s my girl. Now lean forward. All the way forward and let the Hog do the work. She felt him down shift and the beast rumbled beneath them. With the substantial length of him so far up inside her, she felt physically compelled to lean forward over the petrol tank until she could feel the cool chains of the cat suit pressing into her bare flesh, until her erect nipples felt like they’d drill clear through the tank.

Then with a hard thrust, Morgan scooted forward again, and she heard him sigh. After that the thrusting and maneuvering became much more subtle using the power of the Harley roaring beneath them as the driving force. He had positioned himself perfectly so that each undulation of his hips drove her distended clit against the vibrating leather of the seat. My God, she thought, it was a brilliant way to die.

His breath was soft little grunts inside her helmet coming faster and faster until she thought he must have stopped breathing altogether. The movement of his groin against her became less and less, all the while building in intensity until each minuscule shifting penetrated up her spine clear into the crown of her head, until she was certain the imminent orgasm would surely explode her brain.

When his ejaculation erupted inside her, she felt as though his cock had suddenly expanded to fill the entire space within her pelvic girdle, and her own orgasm tightened and gripped on him until he cried out.

She would have surely catapulted off the Hog with the double explosion in her pussy had Morgan not held her tightly with his free arm, as they sped down the A3 toward the Guildford exit.