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Girls Rule, Boys Drool by Lucy Felthouse

Girls Rule, Boys DroolBlurb:

Three lesbian erotic short stories from popular writer Lucy Felthouse.

Girls Rule, Boys Drool

Boyish dyke Toni is working at the local golf club, serving champagne to arrogant, privileged folk when she spots Clarissa. She’s one of the posh people, but she looks like she’d rather be somewhere else—anywhere else. Toni’s immediately smitten and wants to put a smile on the older woman’s beautiful face, so she decides to show Clarissa just why girls rule and boys drool.

Making An Impression

Joely’s holiday has consisted mainly of chilling out by the hotel pool, having the occasional swim and reading lots. That is, until a hot brunette arrives and suddenly, Joely has trouble concentrating on anything else. Her gaydar non-existent, Joely decides on an unusual course of action to find out whether the newcomer bats for the same side as her.

Fear as an Aphrodisiac

Girlfriends Nikki and Sonya are on holiday in Edinburgh, Scotland’s capital city. They’re having fun sightseeing, until a super-scary tourist attraction sends Nikki into meltdown. Once outside again, Nikki slowly starts to feel better—and, much to her surprise, horny. Quickly realising that the fear has acted as a potent aphrodisiac, she decides to take advantage of that fact, right there in the middle of the city.

Available from:
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https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-girlsruleboysdrool-1367992-352.html?referrer=6bdb1f9160564c0525b41f36e51861a0

Coming soon to all other good eBook retailers.

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/19230294-girls-rule-boys-drool

*****

Excerpt:

Finally, Nikki and Sonya found the turning off Edinburgh’s Royal Mile that they needed. They’d expected a road, but Mary King’s Close was nothing more than a narrow passageway that looked like it led to the next street along. Glancing at one another, it seemed both girls suspected they were in the wrong place—despite the name of the alleyway—but as they headed along the close, they came across more signage and discovered they were wrong. The signs proclaimed that they were indeed at The Real Mary King’s Close, and this time they exchanged a relieved look and moved inside the tourist attraction.

After paying their money, they were put into a group that was already waiting, and after a few minutes was called to attention by a member of staff. The young man, dressed in incredibly old-fashioned attire welcomed them to the attraction and gave some brief information about what they should expect from the tour, as well as some health and safety spiel.

Then they were ushered deeper into the building and down some stairs. Another peculiarly-dressed actor met them and gave his talk. The group soon learned that Mary King’s Close had been a town of sorts, a collection of streets and houses, named after the most prominent local—Mary King. It had functioned well, this part of Edinburgh—in its day. But it had also befallen hard times and tragedy, including the Black Death. It was rumoured that people affected had been bricked into their houses to prevent the disease spreading further. It had never been confirmed nor denied, but the very idea sent a shiver down Nikki’s spine.

As they advanced into the underground town—now covered over by modern Edinburgh—they learned more about the inhabitants, their lives and, in some cases, their deaths. By the time they were shown the shrine of a young girl, covered with offerings both old and new, Nikki was clinging onto Sonya’s arm so hard that the other girl gave her a nudge.

“Oi, you’re hurting me! What’s the matter with you?”

“Sorry,” Nikki replied. “I’m getting a little creeped out, that’s all.”

“A little? The way you’re squeezing my arm, I’m beginning to think you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

“I said I’m sorry. God. Don’t you think it’s spooky down here?”

A meaningful glance from the tour guide shut them up. Nikki dropped her hand to Sonya’s and held it. The group continued through the subterranean labyrinth, listening to more tales of the past, the things that had happened within the very place they stood, over four hundred years ago.

Some periods of total darkness with recounts of history later, and Nikki was a nervous wreck. She’d always had an overactive imagination, and although she’d never seen a ghost—despite Sonya’s words—she believed in them and was really succumbing to the eeriness of the ancient place. She had gotten to the stage where she fully expected to see the spectre of little Annie—having left the site of her shrine—peering around a corner, beckoning to her. Or the chilly finger of a plague victim trailing down the back of her neck. She grew so paralyzed with fear that she fell silent and didn’t take in a word of the rest of the excursion—simply holding onto Sonya’s hand as they walked through the rooms and tunnels.

When they eventually emerged into the outside world once more, Nikki heaved a sigh of relief. “Sonya, darling, take me for a drink, now. A stiff one. A double vodka and coke sounds perfect right now. Maybe even a triple.”

“Were you really that scared?” The other woman looked disbelieving.

“What do you mean, were? I still bloody am. I’m sure I’d have found it interesting if I wasn’t so busy being terrified. I’m surprised I didn’t wet myself.”

“Aww, babe.” Sonya pulled the other girl into her arms. “I didn’t realise you hated it that much. We could have left if I’d known.”

“No,” Nikki shook her head. “It’s okay, I didn’t want to ruin it for you. I just got to the stage where I blocked it all out. But I’d still really like a drink, if you don’t mind.”

Sonya gently pushed Nikki against the wall of the alleyway and hugged her once more. “Okay, we’ll go for a drink soon. Let me hold you for a few minutes, first.”

The other girl said nothing, just relaxed into her lover’s embrace and slowly, very slowly, felt the fear ebbing away. With not a small amount of horror, she realised that she was turned on. Her knickers were damp and sticking to her, and the heat emanating from between her legs was unmistakable. What the actual fuck? She kept quiet, instead nuzzling into Sonya’s neck and pressing a kiss to the delicate skin there.

“Ooh,” Sonya said, shuddering, “that was lovely. What was that for?”

“For being nice.” Nikki’s voice was muffled, and she kissed her girlfriend again.

“Hey,” Sonya said, grabbing Nikki’s hands and squeezing them, “you’d better stop that, otherwise I’m going to get turned on. And that’s the last thing you want right now. I’m trying to be understanding here, sweetheart.”

Nikki came to the conclusion that she didn’t mind if Sonya got turned on, not at all. In fact, some sexy fun might just take her mind off the creepy underground place they’d just visited. It was damn weird that being scared had turned her on, but the more she thought about it, the more she figured it kinda made sense. Nothing, in her opinion, was scarier than death, and the French word for orgasm translated to ‘the little death’—so it was widely accepted that sex and death were connected. Sex was about life, death was about, well, death. So, in an attempt to stop thinking about things that confused the hell out of her, she was going to embrace life, wholeheartedly. And if that meant experiencing the little death, then so be it.

“I don’t mind,” she whispered into Sonya’s ear.

“What do you mean, sweetie?” Sonya replied, grabbing her shoulders and moving her back so she could look at her face. “You don’t mind what?”

“I don’t mind you getting turned on.”

*****

Author bio:

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

 

One Flesh by Annabeth Leong

One FleshBlurb:

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

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

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

Excerpt:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Buy Links:
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Storm Moon Press

 

Bio:

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

 

Guest Blogger: Shiloh Saddler

WMS_blogtourI can’t believe my first book was released November 5th. Decadent Publishing has made my dream come true. I’ve been a closet GLBT writer for a long time. I have many partial romance stories stowed away on my hard drive. Could I ever finish one? Could I ever publish one? I didn’t think so until my writing partner challenged me. Thankfully she did because that was how The Virgin Madam came to be. I have a history degree, so when I began writing romance I naturally gravitated toward the historical genre. I was disappointed to see there were very few F/F historicals available. So I decided it was time for me to write my own.

I grew up watching westerns my favorite being Gunsmoke. Maybe that was why the first F/F idea I got involved a cowgirl and a madam. Laura and Josephine both came to me as fully formed characters. Laura inherits a brothel after her Papa is murdered. She thought she’d be trapped in Bitterroot Flats and lonely for the rest of her life until the tomboy Josephine struts into her life and wants to make her fantasies come true.

To learn a little more about Laura and her fantasies here is an excerpt.

cancanExcerpt:

Time for the can-can show. My heart palpitated in anticipation. Shamelessly I watched the four women file on stage in their long matching red skirts and black stockings. A red feather in their hair.

Mr. Woodson finished the intro music. I gave him a small smile and nod before returning my attention to the women. I let out a quiet sigh. They were all beauties. When I was younger I cried myself to sleep wishing I had their figure; now full grown, I had given up on that dream. I wasn’t tall and leggy like Lulu. I wasn’t as curvy as Rose. I didn’t have Amanda’s fiery red hair or Delilah’s flawless complexion. I was just average.

The black silk chokers around their necks helped draw attention to their faces and lower to their breasts. The ladies grabbed their skirts and walked to the edge of the stage, swishing their skirts suggestively and showing off their white bloomers. Many men let out cheers or said lewd comments. Ash rushed in and grabbed a seat. He leaned back in his chair put two fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle. Like me, he caught as many performances as he could. The bastard had become a regular fixture in Bitterroot Flats, easily partaking in the entitlements. Including murder. He must have had a past with Fletcher. Done jobs together, maybe even served time together.

I had to put up with him. But I didn’t have to pretend to like him. I seared his back with a fiery stare, hoping he could feel my anger.

I wish I never had to see Ash again. I wish I had the power to ban him from the Honey Ranch. The power to keep him from Amanda would be some satisfaction, but the Fletcher Gang owned the town. Ash could do whatever he damn pleased and I was powerless to stop him.

Ash wasn’t going to spoil the show for me. I focused on the women, their every seductive move. The dancers turned around in place before prancing around the stage in a small circle, flashing the gentlemen big smiles. Their faces, heavily painted with rouge and lip paint, glowed under the stage’s lighting. A thrill zipped through me when they formed a line again and started their high kicks. Some of the men clapped, keeping time with the music. Others tapped their empty beer glasses on the tables. The rowdy atmosphere didn’t bother me anymore. The scent of beer and whiskey wafted through the air, mixing with the smell of sweat, horses, and the honeysuckle perfume the ladies wore. I easily tuned out the men, my attention narrowing to the women working the stage as if their lives depended on it. How they managed to dance so well in those high-heeled black boots I’d never know. They helped show off their legs, though. And I could drool over all those legs. Heat and desire burning in my belly, I hoped no one could read my dirty thoughts.

 

The Virgin MadamBlurb:

After a vicious outlaw murders her father, Laura Rutherford sees no future beyond running the family brothel and kowtowing to the local gang. Not even marriage offers escape. No man can compete with the beautiful women who dance the can-can for her each night…at least not until a gentle stranger sweeps in and opens her eyes to desires too long denied.

Joe Bascum stumbles into Bitterroot Flats looking for a place to hide from a gunman out for blood. When the innocent Madame from the local brothel offers a bed and bath, Joe accepts hoping to show the buttoned-up beauty just how right forbidden desire can feel.

When danger escalates, can Laura help Joe defeat the famous Fletcher gang, or is she destined to live a lonely life as the virgin madam?

Buy Links:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks
Decadent Publishing

Author Bio:

Shiloh Saddler likes to do research for her steamy romances first hand. She has invented a time machine and travels back to the 19th century on a regular basis. There are experimental settings on her time machine which could propel her into the future and even other worlds. She believes love and a good book makes anything possible.

Social Media Links:

History in the Hot Lane Blog: http://shilohsaddler.blogspot.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ShilohSaddler

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/shiloh.saddler?fref=ts

 

Who’s Really to Blame for Seven Deadly Sins

version1

Okay, so here it is; the real story behind the story. Here’s the truth about what happened  when dirty minds ran amuck late at night after Eroticon 2012 in the Ibis Hotel in Bristol. I swear it’s the truth because I was right there running amuck with the best.

I can’t say we’d had too much to drink. We hadn’t. I can’t say there were any drugs involved, unless you want to count the cold tablets I was popping for the springtime sniffles I had. What I can say is that we were high on smut writing. We’d just spent the day at the first annual Eroticon in Bristol. That was last March. We’d had dinner with some of our naughty compadres, and then Lily Harlem, Victoria Blisse, Lucy Felthouse and I went back to our hotel, which had a lovely all-night bar. Since we live in opposite directions in the UK, we seldom get the chance to catch up and talk writing, so we were up for the long haul.

Seven-Deadly-Sins-Cover-450(1)Lily Harlem started it. Yes, she’s the one to blame! After some raucous conversation about what we found sexy and what we liked to write about, she pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper and we began brainstorming ideas for smutty anthologies. We considered sex at work for an anthology; we considered sex alfresco for an anthology, we might have even considered food sex. Oh, the possibilities! And then Lily did it! Lily brought up the idea of an anthology about the seven deadly sins, the perfect way to cover all the naughty bases in one filthy swoop.

My hand was the first in the air to write a story about lust. Bet that surprises you, doesn’t itJ Victoria wasn’t far behind me, volunteering for gluttony. Lily was all up for envy and Lucy put in for pride. And so the night went. I’m not sure how serious we all were at the time. It was long after midnight, and to say we were punchy is an understatement. When a party of rather inebriated lads flooded into the bar singing Iris folk songs loudly and badly, we adjourned to Victoria and Lucy’s room and continued planning and scheming.

The next day we all hopped our trains and went back home. My sneaking suspicions is that it was Lucy Felthouse who is to blame for what happened next, though I’m sure that Lily was partly responsible for filling in the three remaining sins with naughty writers, Sarah Masters took up the cause to wax filthy about wrath, Lexie Bay weighed in with sloth and Rebecca Bond took on greed.

And, after that the blame all goes to KoJo Black over at Sweetmeats Press who bravely agreed to take on the brainchild four under-slept smutters had mapped out on a scrap of paper in a hotel bar. Thanks KoJo! Nine months later, Voila! A very naughty, anthology is now available for your reading and viewing pleasure, with illustrations by John LaChatte in the paperback version and in the Waterstones eBook version. Thought the eBook is available in all the usual places, do remember, if you want the naughty illustrations in your eBook version, you have to get it from Waterstones.

I confess, this anthology is truly sinful X seven, and I do hope that this little peek into the naughty origins of The Seven Deadly Sins will lead you into temptation to get your copy, and then let the filthy authors and that dirty boy of an illustrater, John LaChatte do the rest. I forgot to mention you can also buy each of the seven stories separately in eBook format if you have a favourite vice.

Seven erotic tales from seven sinful sirens. The Seven Deadly Sins have never been so sexy!

Aphrodite Gets a Piece of the Action by K. D. Grace
A young voyeur finds himself faced with the almighty task of going global with Lust!

Caged by Rebecca Bond
Greed pushes a policewoman straight to the top. But her quest for power uncovers more desire than she ever knew she had!

Glutton to Gourmet by Victoria Blisse
Anabel has never known when to say ‘when’. But the dashing Roman shows her that quality is just as delicious as quantity.

Green Eyed Monster by Lily Harlem
Penis Envy takes on a whole new meaning when Helen hatches a plan to use her own “cock” to its fullest extent!

An Indolent Seduction by Lexie Bay
When the demon of Sloth sets his sights on the angel Industria, apathy becomes dangerously alluring.

The Sweetest Revenge by Lucy Felthouse

Abigail’s crush on Mackenzie has made her do something stupid. Will Pride come before a fall…or cause them to fall in love?

Something Else by Sarah Masters
A man’s Wrath at the loss of his lover sets him on a vengeful path that leads him through a seedy and sexually charged underworld.

sevendeadlysins_large_promo

Blurb for Aphrodite Gets a Piece of the Action:

There’s no place to go but down when, against all odds, sexually inexperienced, nerd’s nerd, JACK CALENDAR gets shanghaied into being APHRODITE’s PA. And she has him going down a lot! Who could have guessed that the moonlighting Goddess of Love had head for business? The hours are long, the work is difficult and the Goddess is demanding and insatiable. Then there’s her family, who make the Corleones look like the Brady Bunch.

A PA’s work is never done, and Jack wasn’t hired for his impressive organizational skills. Nerdy Jack is at Aphrodite’s beck-and-call, because he’s the only mortal she has ever known with a lust powerful enough to match her own. Jack’s never had so much sex. He didn’t even know one could have so much sex – with someone other than themselves, that is. Just when he’s starting to get the hang of serving the goddess, Jack meets the husband, whose jealous temper is volcanic to say the least. Can Jack survive a run-in with the original dysfunctional family, or will he end up just one more manipulated mortal fucked by the gods?

Excerpt from Aprodite Gets a Piece of the Action

‘Hey you! Ass-wipe! Don’t make me come up after you.’

Coming up wasn’t necessary. Startled, Jack lost his balance on the limb and fell out of the tree backward, his fall being slowed by the hard thwack, thwack, thwack of a half a dozen smaller, more supple branches before he hit the manicured lawn flat on his back leaving him winded and stunned.

‘Izzee dead?’ A voice hissed from somewhere above Jack’s prone, breathless body.

‘Course ‘es not dead. His cock’s still hard. Sonovabitch! Hat’s off to ‘im, I say.’

‘Don’t matter. When her dad gets through with him, he’ll wish he was dead.’

‘Shut up, you two. No one asked your opinion,’ a third voice said. Then the owner of that voice grabbed Jack by the arm and hauled him to his feet nearly dislocating his shoulder in the process. He found himself nose to nose to a man with perfectly coifed hair that looked like it came straight from an eighties cop show. And the rest of him looked like a poster boy for a hard core muscle mag, right down to the bad-ass eagle tat rippling up his bulging right bicep. If that wasn’t crazy enough, the man was wearing a toga, for chrissake! His pecs bulged and his nipples looked like they’d been clamped within an inch of their lives. And who the hell noticed a man’s nipples, Jack wondered, especially when Blondie’s old man was about to make him wish he were dead.

‘Tuck it in, Bub,’ Toga Man nodded to Jack’s cock which, embarrassingly enough, still offered a full frontal salute. He shoved and shifted it back into his track suit, but even then it led the way as he fell into step behind Toga Man with two black-suit security types flanking him. What the hell was the matter with him? He could die or worse and he still had enough wood to start a bonfire.

‘Big Z ain’t gonna be happy you watching his daughter do the dirty,’ the suit to his left spoke out of one side of his mouth.

‘You shut your pie-hole,’ Toga Man said. ‘You dunno what makes Big Z happy. Besides, she ain’t his daughter.’

Big Z? What the hell was this, Jack wondered, some kind of Mafioso toga party? They made their way through the enormous marble foyer of the house Jack hadn’t noticed being anywhere nearly so huge from his perch in the oak tree. But then it wasn’t the house he’d been looking at, was it? At last, Toga Man dismissed the Mafia-thugs and fast marched Jack, both hands protectively folded across the bounce, bounce, bounce of his erection, to another set of double doors at the end of a long hallway. He threw them open and with a hand on Jack’s shoulder, half shoved him into an opulent study. There, Jack found himself face to face with the bare ass of a bloke doing the nasty up the bumhole of another, a situation that didn’t prevent Toga Man from announcing loudly. ‘We found this scumbag up the oak tree watching Aphrodite.’

Buy Seven Deadly Sins Now

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eBook:
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Amazon US
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Passion from a Distance: Lucy Felthouse and Ian H

KD: It’s my pleasure to introduce the second in my series of Passionate Partners. For those of you who missed out on the first instalment, Passionate Partners is a series to celebrate erotica writers and their partners who, may help them quietly behind the scenes or a little more in the forefront, but however they do it, the support, the love and the passion shine through. Today I’m welcoming erotica writer and marketing and PR expert, Lucy Felthouse and her passionate partner, Ian H.

Lucy: Lucy is a graduate of the University of Derby, where she studied Creative Writing. During her first year, she was dared to write an erotic story – so she did. It went down a storm and she’s never looked back. Lucy has had stories published by Cleis Press, Constable and Robinson, Decadent Publishing, Ellora’s Cave, Evernight Publishing, House of Erotica, Ravenous Romance, Resplendence Publishing, Sweetmeats Press and Xcite Books. She is also the editor of Uniform Behaviour, Seducing the Myth, Smut by the Sea and Smut in the City. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Ian: Ian is a graduate of Northampton College, where he studied Hotel Management. From the age of 10, all he wanted to do was work in the catering industry but upon leaving college the last thing he wanted to do was work in catering. Ian has spent the last 12 years as a merchandiser for a software country, travelling the country whilst writing the perfect thriller novel in his head. He just needs to get it down on paper now.

L&I: Lucy and Ian are a geektastic, film, book and history loving couple. They like exploring the British countryside and also travelling abroad when time and finances allow. They’re often accompanied by Lucy’s boingtastic dog, Scamp.

KD:  Lucy, when I first met you and Ian, I thought Ian was the quiet one. Turns out he has a pretty wicked sense of humour, does amazing things with chocolate and whipped cream – in the kitchen, baking! You naughty minded pair! In the kitchen! And Lucy, you’re the quiet one – though certainly not online!  The fact that Ian bakes for you, and the fact that he makes the long journey down south with you for readings and other fun events, AND the fact that he camps with you, convinced me that I was witnessing another one of those passionate partnerships in the promoting and celebration of sexuality through erotica. How did that journey begin for the two of you, and has it always been a team effort?

L: Well, we actually met through work, though neither of us is working for that particular company any more. I was introduced to Ian as an “exotic writer” by one of our colleagues, and after a night out with lots of colleagues, we ended up seeing each other on the quiet for a little while, as people sticking their noses in is never a good thing. Then after a while we went public and it’s been fun ever since!

As I said, Ian’s known right from the beginning about my writing, after I corrected the information he was given – i.e. erotic, not exotic! He doesn’t read all of my work—he’s a thriller fan—but he’s very supportive of it.

I: After our initial meeting we began that oh so modern thing, an online relationship (thank you Facebook, you’re good for something other than wasting my time). After making the mistake of asking if Lucy’s writing is autobiographical, a common question I’m told, we discovered we had many things in common and things have gone from strength to strength since then.

KD: Lucy, what does Ian do to help your writing career that you appreciate more than anything else?

L: He goes on writing-related trips with me, to London, to Brighton and next year to Scarborough, and you never know, maybe further afield one day!

KD: Ian, what, so far (knowing that there are lots more such moments ahead) has been the moment in Lucy’s writing career when you’ve been the most proud of her?

I: There are two such moments for me. The first was when she had her first piece of work published and the second was when she did her first public reading of her work.

KD: What has been the craziest experience you’ve shared in your mutual journey through erotica?

L&I: Ha! Probably when we went to Erotica in London last year. There were many unusual sights, not least adult babies.

KD: Ian, once Lucy begins a new story, how involved are you in the process? What do you consider your most important role when she’s with the Muse? Does it have anything to do with baking her delectable tidbits?

I: I become involved when Lucy needs me to be. Lucy has been known to tap into my love of a wide range of music, which prompted our visit to the Père Lachaise cemetery in Paris to visit the grave of Jim Morrison. This was part research for a future story for Lucy and part hero worship for me. As for my baking, the look of satisfaction on Lucy’s face when she tries my latest kitchen adventure is something I will never grow tired of.

KD: Ian, I know you and Lucy live a good distance a part and only get to see each other on the weekends, do you feel that makes you less involved in her writing career than you’d like to be, or just about right?

I: At times I feel quite detached from Lucy’s writing, but I am never more than an email or phone call way. I also know that she has great network of friends and fellow writers that are always there to help her. I wish I could be more involved, but I always help when I can.

KD: What’s the hardest part of the Lucy/Ian working partnership?

L: I don’t think there’s anything tough about it. Granted, we only see each other at weekends, but that means that I get all my work done during the week and then we are free to do as we please at the weekends with no distractions.

I: Modern technology has removed the hardest part, the distance that separates us. We both now get our work done during the week, so the weekend becomes our time.

KD: What’s the best part?

L: At the moment, it’s been receiving Ian’s comments about the novel I’m writing. I’m sending it to him chapter by chapter and for saying erotica isn’t really his thing, it seems he’s enjoying it. So hopefully I’m doing something right!

I: I love it when Lucy asks for my opinion or ideas, then later I get see those appear on paper. And the novel is going great, and I’m proud that some of the adventures you’ll read have come from my suggestions.

KD: One of the things I enjoy most about the two of you is all the wonderful trips you take on the weekends and the piccies on Facebook. Who plans the itinerary? Do you take turns? What’s the best part about your travels together?

L: We plan things together. Luckily, we like many of the same things, and want to see the same places. So one of us will suggest something, and most of the time, the other person agrees. Sometimes they’ll come up with another suggestion. But either way, we do as much as we can, and much prefer being out and about to sitting in watching TV. The best part of our travels is doing something we both enjoy.

I: It’s a joint effort. We’ve got many of the same interests so we always have many things planned, often months in advance. It is often the simplest things we do that become the most enjoyable.

KD: What’s the best advice the two of you can offer to make that strange and wonderful relationship between erotica writers and their partners run smoother?

L: That’s tough, because everyone is so different. It helps me that Ian is so open-minded, and gets that all I’m doing is writing fiction. I’m just making stuff up and writing it down. He also just lets me get on with it, but is also there to help if I ask.

I: Just to remember that what’s written is fiction.

KD: Ian, though I can speak to the totally delectability of your chocolate éclairs, I just HAVE to ask, what’s your favourite recipe for something totally decadent and inspiring to smutters? A picture? A luscious description? A recipe? *Salivates hopefully*

I: I believe that my chocolate éclairs do take some beating, but I have something planned for our next meeting that might just beat them.

KD: Lucy, what’s the Muse had you up to lately, and what yumminess should we be keeping an eye out for from next from Lucy Felthouse?  I know there’s a novel in the works. Dare I ask for any gossip or tidbits about said novel???

LF: As you know, I’m always juggling several projects at once. I am working on a novel, but I’ve also been taking little breaks and writing short stories, too.

The novel is shaping up really well, I’m almost halfway through my 80,000 words. It has a working title of Stately Pleasures and is an erotic romance, though the romantic twist won’t be apparent to begin with. It’s about a woman who takes a job in a country house, and she ends up having a great deal of kinky fun with the owner and his best friend, the Head of Security. Ménage heaven!

Lucy’s latest release: No Boys Allowed

Three sexy Sapphic tales from the pen of Lucy Felthouse:

No Boys Allowed

When Leigh goes to meet with some potential housemates in a sought-after part of London, all she’s interested in is making a good impression. The last thing she’s expecting is to find out that one of the girls is a lesbian, like her. Kacey’s not home yet, but when she arrives, Leigh knows one thing for sure: she’s smitten. But will her feelings be reciprocated?

Something in Common

Nerd and amateur photographer Justine is partaking of one of her favourite pastimes—visiting a historical site—when she bumps into Amber. It turns out they’re both equally enthusiastic about exploring stately homes, abbeys, stone circles and the like—and their surprise at meeting someone with similar interests leads them on another adventure together, which doesn’t end at the site.

Little Miss Goody Two Shoes

Izzy and her girlfriend are visiting a beautiful stately home in the British countryside. Taking a stroll around the garden, Izzy’s shocked to see a statue of a female—totally naked. Her girlfriend, astounded that Izzy is such a prude and a Little Miss Goody Two Shoes, proceeds to show her just what fun can be had in a country garden with a statue to hide them from prying eyes.

More info, excerpt and buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/no-boys-allowed/

 
© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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