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Liz Coldwell Shares Hotel Secrets

Liz Coldwell hotel britannique romantic bed

There’s something deeply romantic about staying in a hotel. If you have the money, it’s a chance to surround yourself in

five-star luxury, with beautifully decorated rooms, access to gyms and spa facilities, 24-hour room service and staff on hand to attend to your every need. TripAdvisor hands out ‘Most Romantic Hotel’ Awards each year, with the winners offering such things as champagne and chocolates to guests on arrival as part of the package, and providing a cosy little bolthole from the stresses of everyday life. Even if your budget runs to nothing more exciting than a travel lodge just off the M4, you’ll still get a break from chores like cooking breakfast and making your own bed – and for some that’s the definition of romance.

For many people, though, a hotel stay offers the chance to live out any number of romantic and sexual fantasies. Towns like Brighton built their reputation on being a destination for ‘dirty weekends’, where couples could get away from their families, friends or even their spouse and indulge in all manner of naughtiness. One piece of advice often given to those wanting to spice up their sex lives is to book into a hotel under false names, or even to pretend to pick each other up in the bar before going upstairs for some hot between-the-sheets action. It appeals to the concept of hotels as places where everything is transient, full of people you’ll never see again and who have no idea of what you might be getting up to behind closed doors. And with reports of guest accidentally leaving saucy underwear and exotic sex toys behind when they check out, it’s a fair bet the couple in the next room to yours are letting their desires run wild. (The moral here, of course, is to check under the bed and behind the radiators before you hand your keys back…)

When I started plotting His Secret Boss, I was looking to set the book in Wales. I needed a business that was failing and the idea came to me to use a hotel as the backdrop, because if you’re part of the management so much rides on giving guests the best possible experience. Like the rest of the United Kingdom, Wales has some spectacular coastal scenery and beautiful seaside towns. Aberpentre, the fictional location where hotel chain CEO Claudia Anthony pitches up, isn’t one of those towns, with a high street that mostly consists of charity shops and a general air of neglect. The Anthony Hotel is equally rundown, with a lift that’s in desperate need of an overhaul, as Claudia and the hotel’s manager, Rhodri, discover to their cost in this extract:

 

His Secret Boss Extract: 

The lift arrived. We got in, and Rhodri pressed the button for the top floor. For two and a half floors, we ascended Liz ColdwellHis Secret Boss6smoothly, then there was the sound of metal grinding against metal, and the car juddered to a halt.

‘What the …?’ Rhodri jabbed at buttons on the panel by the door, but nothing happened. He waited a moment, then tried again, with the same result. ‘Shit! It looks like we’re stuck.’ He sighed. ‘And I got the maintenance crew to look this thing over today as well.’

‘So what do we do now?’

Rhodri pressed another button, which bore the image of a bell. ‘That’s the alarm. It should let the company that monitors the lift know there’s a problem. Unfortunately, this thing’s so old, it doesn’t have any form of communication system built into it, so I can’t speak to them directly.’

‘Hopefully Bayo and Dean will realise something’s wrong when the lift doesn’t arrive at the top floor. They might be able to do something.

‘True, but even if they open the outside door, we’re halfway between floors. I don’t think we’d be able to climb out, and I don’t want to risk trying it.’

‘So we’ve just got to wait until someone arrives to get us out? How long is that going to take?’ I’d never suffered from claustrophobia, but something about being trapped in this little metal box caused nausea to churn in my belly. Even Rhodri’s solid presence by my side didn’t seem to help. I shivered, and wiped suddenly clammy palms on my skirt.

‘Hey, Jane, it’s going to be OK.’ He put an arm around me and gave me a reassuring hug. Though his intention was clearly to try and soothe me, he only succeeded in making things worse. I hadn’t cried since the day of Dad’s funeral, and now all the tears I’d been bottling up came flooding out.

‘But it’s the middle of the night,’ I babbled into his shoulder, no longer sure what was really upsetting me. ‘Who’s going to come now?’

‘They have people on call 24 hours a day. If anything, they’ll be here quicker than they otherwise might. No traffic on

the roads, no other idiots making demands on their attention by deciding to use an unreliable, thousand-year-old lift at midnight …’

He held me tighter as my sobs turned into giggles at his exaggerated response to our predicament. At last, I pulled away from him and removed my glasses so I could wipe at my eyes. Rhodri dug into his pocket and found a handkerchief, which he passed to me.

‘There you go, Jane. I just hate to see a woman cry.’

‘I’m sorry.’ I clutched the hankie in my fist. ‘I don’t know what came over me. Maybe I’ve watched too many horror films where people get trapped in lifts and terrible things happen to them.’

‘So would now be the right time to tell you that we have a ghost here?’

‘Really?’ I thought I’d heard all the stories about the hotel, but this was news to me.

He shook his head. ‘No. But it’d be pretty cool if there was. Just imagine if the spirit of some old hotel porter walked the landings, shining his torch as he went. Or if the place was haunted by an Edwardian lady who threw herself from one of the balconies because she’d been jilted by the man she was about to marry …’ His voice had dropped to a whisper, and as I spoke, something touched the back of my neck.

I shrieked and jumped backwards. Then realised what I had felt were Rhodri’s fingers, moving in a spidery trail over my skin.

‘That wasn’t funny,’ I snapped, as Rhodri fought to stifle his laughter. ‘You have a morbid imagination, you know that?’ 

‘So you don’t want to swap ghost stories, then? Never mind, I’m sure we can find some other way of passing the time …’

In the dim glow of the emergency lighting, Rhodri’s eyes were dark with desire. An air of anticipation hung between us, just as it had last night, in the moment before he kissed me. What had I told myself about not getting involved with him? It would be too complicated, too fraught with danger. Yet, as he pulled me into his arms again, I made no effort to resist.

Our lips were inches apart. I closed my eyes in anticipation.

 

His Secret Boss Blurb:

‘You have to admit, Claudia, it’ll be wonderful publicity for you …’

Fans of The Untwisted series, 50 shades of Grey and Sylvia Day’s Crossfire series will love His Secret Boss.

Claudia Anthony, the overachieving owner of a successful hotel chain, is recruited to take part in the reality TV show Secret CEO. Disguised as Jane Ennis, she takes on a job at The Anthony in Aberpentre, a Welsh seaside town that has seen better days. She finds herself working under young, headstrong Rhodri Wynn-Jones, who has no clue of her real identity. Soon, passion flares and although Claudia knows there are lines she can’t cross, she just can’t keep away.

Rhodri is falling in love with Jane – but what will happen if he learns he’s actually having an affair with his boss?

 

His Secret Boss Buy links:

Amazon UK/

Amazon US/

Accent Press

 

Abouy Liz Coldwell:

Formerly the editor of the UK edition of Forum magazine, co-founder of the Guild of Erotic Writers and editor in chief at Xcite Books, Elizabeth Coldwell has been writing erotic fiction for over twenty years and her work has been widely published in the UK and US. She enjoys writing across the spectrum of erotica genres, from m/m space opera to girl/girl messy fun, vanilla to BDSM, paranormal to contemporary.

Find Elizabeth Coldwell at

The (Really) Naughty Corner

 

 

 

 

 

Liz Coldwell Talks Christmas in Paradise

Hi, KD, and thanks very much for hosting me. I’m thrilled to be able to talk about my story in the Cariad Christmas anthology, Love Under The
Mistletoe Christmas for One.

loveunderthemistletoeChristmas is traditionally a time to be with your loved ones. Even now, I still travel up to Yorkshire to visit my parents over the holiday, it being one of the few opportunities we get for the whole family to be together. I’ve only broken that practice once, the year I hit 30. Blame it on Home Alone 2 (yes, we’re talking quite a while ago here), but the legendary Darlo Ted and I decided we wanted to spend Christmas in New York. We had a fantastic time, doing all the touristy things like visiting the huge tree at the Rockefeller Centre, and even went up over the city in a helicopter on Christmas Day, but somehow it still felt strange not to be at home, tucking into my mother’s roast turkey and all the trimmings.

Dionne, the heroine of Christmas for One, also finds herself spending the day away from her family, but not quite in the circumstances she’d

planned. Her wedding is called off when she learns an unpleasant truth about her husband-to-be, Richard, and instead of a Christmas honeymoon in Aruba she flees instead to a beach resort in Honolulu, where paradise awaits.

Though I’ve never been to Hawaii, I had plenty of fun researching all the activities that would be available to Dionne, as well as the food that she’d eat at the big celebration luau where Santa hands out presents to all the guests.

She even takes an excursion up to the Lulumahu Falls on Christmas Day itself, because who wouldn’t want to visit a hidden waterfall and take a dip beneath the rushing waters? Even though it’s a bit of a trek up to this secluded spot, it’s one of the highlights of Dionne’s paradise vacation.
Of course, what makes her stay extra-special is the presence of one of the resort employees, Scott. He and Dionne quickly discover they have a chemistry that promises to make Christmas sizzle, and when Scott plays Santa, he’s able to give her a present she’ll never forget…

Here’s the moment where Dionne meets Scott for the first time:

She hands me a key card, and I wait for the bellboy to come over. He’s tall, with blond hair that threatens to fall over one eye, and when he smiles, a cute little dimple appears in his cheek. The nametag on his burgundy waistcoat reads “SCOTT”.

‘Scott, could you take Ms Suvari to Room 24?’ the desk clerk instructs him.

‘Of course. May I take your bag, Ms Suvari?’

‘Please, call me Dionne, and there’s really no need …’

The tan leather carry-on isn’t heavy, but he’s already scooping it up out of my hand. When his fingers brush against the back of my palm, my skin seems to tingle in response, and I wonder if he feels it too. But already he’s heading for the elevator.

We take the short ride to the second floor, and step out into a quiet corridor.

‘Here we are.’ Scott takes the key card from me and opens the door.

I’ve been expecting the type of room that’s usually reserved for single travellers; a tiny box, stuck in some out-of-the-way corner, or so close to the elevator that the hum of machinery seeps through the walls. Instead, I find myself looking at a light, airy bedroom with a big, brass-framed bed, a low, cream leather couch, and a coffee table. A small balcony lets out on to the most breathtaking ocean view. The sun is already beginning to set, staining the sky in shades of red and gold.

‘This is really lovely,’ I murmur, reaching into my purse to find a couple of dollars for Scott’s tip. ‘Thank you.’surfing santa

He gives me a little wink. ‘No problem, Ms – Dionne. And if there’s anything I can do to make your stay more pleasant …’

That sounds like a blatant invitation. Looking into those blue eyes, I recall the brief jolt of electricity that passed between us. But I’m clearly reading a little too much into his comment. ‘Oh, I bet you say that to all the girls,’ I quip.

‘Only the ones who look like they’ve been having a rough time.’

With that, Scott lets himself quietly out of the room. When I can at last tear my eyes away from the spectacular sunset, I pick up the folder on the coffee table. It contains all the information I could need about the resort, and lets me know that dinner is served in the restaurant until 9.30. Plenty of time for me to take a shower and change out of the crumpled clothes I’ve travelled in.

I hunt through my bag for a suitable outfit. Everything I’ve brought with me was intended for Richard’s eyes, from my floor-length black evening dress to my skimpy beachwear to underwear that’s all satin and lace. But there’s a short, floral sundress that I can accessorise with silver and jet jewellery and strappy heels; perfect for dining alone.

Once I’ve stowed everything else in the built-in closet, I take my wash bag through to the en-suite bathroom. It’s stocked with high-end toiletries, and a thick pile of fluffy white towels. Just the kind of luxury I need after everything that’s happened.

As I unzip the bag and reach for my toothbrush, my fingers close around a long, slim box. Intrigued, I fish it out, and don’t know whether to laugh or be shocked. It contains a small vibrator, in a fetching shade of pink, with a smooth shaft and tapered head. When I twist its base, it hums into life, so clearly whoever put it in here has thought of everything. There’s a sticky note attached to the packaging. Written in Jill’s big, looping handwriting are the words “To give your honeymoon a buzz!” She must have sneaked it into my bag while she was helping me put on my wedding dress this morning – and how long ago that seems now. Still, providing me with this toy supports her story that she didn’t have a clue about Richard cheating on me.

Part of me wonders where my rat of an ex-fiancé is right now. In the arms of Marcie Grace, most likely. Well, the two of them deserve each other. At least I found out the truth before it was too late; as humiliating as today has been, things would have been so much worse if I hadn’t learned about the affair until after I’d married him.

I turn the shower setting to “tropical”, letting the water beat down on me. The shower gel produces a creamy lather, rich with the scents of coconut and passion fruit, and it feels good to smooth it over my skin. When I close my eyes, a face swims into my mind. Scott, the cute bellboy with the sweet smile. I recall the last remark he made before he left the room, and wonder if my distress over Richard’s betrayal is really so evident.
It would be nice to havelulumahu falls someone around who could help soothe the hurt away. Someone who, if only for a little while, could help remind me there are still plenty of decent, honest men in this world.

Almost without being aware of what I’m doing, I begin to concentrate on soaping up my breasts, brushing my nipples with the pads of my thumbs. In my imagination, Scott stands behind me in the shower stall, his body tight up against mine, and he’s the one who’s caressing my tits. The picture I’m creating is so vivid I swear I can feel the heavy bulk of his cock, trapped between our two bodies. His mouth is pressed to my neck, and he trails soft kisses all the way to the hollow at the base of my throat.

Is it wrong to be weaving a fantasy about a guy I’ve only exchanged a handful of words with? I don’t know, and right now, frankly, I don’t care.

Blurb:

When Dionne runs out on her wedding ceremony, spending Christmas in Paradise, alone, seems like the perfect way to heal her heartbreak. But she hasn’t counted on meeting a very sexy Santa who will make this a sensual holiday to remember …

Buy links:

Amazon UK

Amazon US

Find Elizabeth Coldwell Here:

Elizabeth Coldwell is a multi-published author and the former editor of the UK edition of Forum magazine. She was the launch editor of Erotic Stories magazine and one of the co-founders of the Guild of Erotic Authors. She has edited for Xcite Books, and written novels for Headline Liaison and the best-selling Xcite Romance imprint. In addition, her short stories have been published by, among others, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ravenous Romance, Totally Bound, Torquere and Circlet Press.
She lives in East London, and is a season ticket holder at Rotherham United and a keen baker. Her recipe for Yorkshire Parkin is available if you ask nicely…
She can be found online at The (Really) Naughty Corner.

 

In the Flesh has its Naughty Re-launch in London

DSC00031Wednesday night in London it might have been cool and raining outside, but inside the fabulous Alley Cat Bar, the atmosphere was hot and steamy. For four years Rachel Kramer Bussel’s In the Flesh was a popular monthly event on the New York street calendar and, to have the event re-launched in London by the fabulous Suzanne Portnoy, author of The Butcher, The Baker, The Candlestick Maker: The Intimate Adventures of a Woman Who Can’t Say No. was like a blast from the very recent past in a very naughty, very fun way. The event was sponsored by Xcite Books.   

In the Flesh London hostess Suzanne Portnoy, who read at the New York event, said: ‘Although it held its final reading in 2010, In the Flesh is fondly remembered by anyone who has ever written erotica. Authors would share their stories to get the audience hot and bothered. It was a great place where established and new writers/bloggers of erotica could share their work in a relaxed, convivial atmosphere. Many UK based authors performed there and now we are bringing it back to the heart of London, where we hope it will take on a new lease of life.’ And it certainly seems to have done just that.

In the Flesh New York had a reputation for being one of America’s rudest reading events. Plus it had cupcakes! And down the stairs in the basement that is the Alley Cat, there was a wonderful incongruity in the dark, mirrored blues bar with its wall-décor of vinyl records and gigantic version of Barbarella playing against the back wall of the stage behind the drums and the cheerful, brightly-coloured plates of cupcakes set on each table. Rachel might not have been there, but her inspiration certainly was!

The venue itself has quite an amazing history. The Alley Cat is located in the basement of what was once the famous Regent Sound Studios on Denmark Street. Denmark Street has the honour of being the place where the Rolling Stones, the Kinks, Elton John and David Bowie recorded songs, but it’s also where serial murderer Denis Nilson worked in the Job Centre on the corner.

I felt a bit like I was making history, being among the readers for the first In the Flesh event in London. And reading with such fab names as Liz Coldwell and Jilly Boyd with Suzanne Portnoy hosting us was a real honour. Also, for me DSC00037it was an even more special occasion for several reasons. First of all, Raymond’s sister, Cindy, brother-in-law Pat, and niece Juanita are all visiting from the States, and they came along to party with us — Juanita having just gotten off the plane from Miami. Second, my multi-talented cohort, Moorita Encantada, closed out the evening with a wonderfully wicked musical scene from our play, The Eye of the Beholder. As always, Moorita was stunning.

We arrived early to find Suzanne already there sorting out the bartenders with her wonderfully naughty blues playlist for the guest to listen to until the readings started. The house-sized Barbarella was then replaced with the sassy In the Flesh London logo just as Moorita with her fab OH, Daniel, showed up to get her sound system set up and make sure she had time to get into her Medusa costume.

The fabulous Liz Coldwell started the evening with a very hot m/m boy meets werewolf story that had everyone squirming in their seats. I followed on with one of my favourite scenes from The Pet Shop, breakfast with Tino, and Jilly Boyd had us all seriously craving fruit … er that should be fruit vendors … in the final reading of the day.

Then after a nice break for much-needed liquid refreshment to cool everyone down and more cupcake chomping for energy, Moorita Encantada took the stage as Medusa, the lead role from our burlesque play, The Eye of The Beholder. As always, Moorita did us both proud.

After the first In the Flesh London was officially over, there was time for more drinks and planning and scheming the next one. As was the tradition of the original, In the Flesh London will happen regularly last Wednesday night of every month in the Alley Cat from 6:30 to 8:00. All erotica writers and bloggers who are interested in reading should contact Alison at Xcite. Alison@accentpress.co.uk

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the Flesh Erotic Reading Night Relaunches in London

One of America’s rudest reading events, In the Flesh, relaunches in London later this month giving well-known erotic writers the chance to share their work with their readers.

Sponsored by Xcite Books and hosted by bestselling erotic memoirist Suzanne Portnoy, In The Flesh London will be held on the last Wednesday of every month at the Alley Cat Bar & Club on Denmark Street starting on 29th May from 6.30pm – 8.30pm.

The first session features readings by prolific erotica authors Liz Coldwell (former editor of FORUM magazine), KD Grace, Jilly Boyd and will be hosted by Suzanne Portnoy, author of  The Butcher, The Baker, The Candlestick Maker: The Intimate Adventures of a Woman Who Can’t Say No.

For four years In the Flesh was a popular monthly event on the New York street calendar. Curated by erotic writer editor Rachel Kramer Bussel it In the Flesh logofeatured the best writers in erotica from the US & UK.

In The Flesh London hostess Suzanne Portnoy, who read at the New York event, said: ‘Although it held its final reading in 2010, In the Flesh is fondly remembered by anyone who has ever written erotica. Authors would share their stories to get the audience hot and bothered. It was a great place where established and new writers/bloggers of erotica could share their work in a relaxed, convivial atmosphere. Many UK based authors performed there and now we are bringing it back to the heart of London, where we hope it will take on a new lease of life.’

The venue The Alley Cat is located in the basement of what was once the famous Regent Sound Studios on Denmark Street. Denmark Street has an illustrious history, where the Rolling Stones, the Kinks, Elton John and David Bowie recorded songs but also where serial murderer Denis Nilson worked in the Job Centre on the corner.

Details:

Date: 29th May

Time: 6.30-8.30pm

Place: The Alley Cat Bar & Club,4 Denmark Street, London WC2

What: Erotic Reading Night sponsored by Xcite Books,.

Get your tickets here, FREE! http://www.eventbrite.co.uk/event/6634737679/estw#

Come join us for rude reading pleasure and lots of surprises.

 
© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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