Tag Archives: Mischief Books

Kinky Boots Go Walking on a Sexy Blog Tour

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

Find Kinky Boots on These Naughty Sites:

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

Blurb:

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

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

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

Excerpt:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Lily Harlem Cofesses All About Her Naughty Night Nurse

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I’m very pleased to welcome my launch mate, Lily Harlem, to A Hopeful Romantic today. We had the pleasure of launching our petite novels for Mischief Books on the same day. Naughty Night Nurse and Kinky Boots are mates in naughtiness, so to speak, and I’m very happy to be in such exquisite company. Welcome Lily, do tell!

Thank you so much for inviting me and my naughty nurse over to play today, KD, so very kind of you, though be warned, she’s a bit of a handful as you can tell by that jaunty jut of her hip and the way her uniform is just a little bit too tight!

I’ve always had a nurse story bubbling away at the back of my mind. I trained as a nurse when I was 18 and then worked in London for many years. The hours were long and hard, the work certainly stressful, but it was also incredibly rewarding. Helping patients was part of the job and I thrived on the adrenaline-inducing department I specialized in – Accident and Emergency. This was my home, be it during the day or on the night shift. One of the things I adored most was the sense of teamwork between doctors, nurses, the porters, lab staff, radiographers and domestic workers (cleaners and kitchen staff). If everyone didn’t get on, communicate, work hard, then the place just couldn’t run. It was very rare to find a lazy staff member; that type of personality just didn’t survive! It was a case of working hard, then a bit harder, then if you had time, go play too. Mmm, yep, we played pretty hard if I remember correctly!

The hospital social club was an ancient building, tin roof and drink so cheap I was sure it was subsidized by someone – don’t know who. It was generally full, mostly people in a uniform of some description, or if not in uniform they still had tired faces and were most likely just out of scrubs after being in theatre all day. Mr Harlem and I had many a date at the ‘social’, in fact, I think we probably had our first date there!

During my nursing years I made many friends, most of them are memories now but a few have stood the test of time and without them still in my life there would be a great big hole. It does that to you, working in such an intense environment, you see people for who they are, beneath the layers. Those girlfriends have made up for me not having a sister and we’ve continued to rise and fall together on the crazy crests of life.  I adore them.

I’ve certainly called on hospital experiences and drawn on remembered characters during my last five years of full time writing, but none so much as Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse.

Now don’t think this book is a memoir, it isn’t (OMG, if it was…!) but certainly the main character reminds me of someone I used to know, as do the two main doctors, Javier and Carl, though, of course, their personalities have been embellished considerably.  Some situations in the book are also reflections, and the descriptions of the hospital wards, corridors and Rose Cottage – that the fluffy name given to the morgue – are all exactly how I remember them.

Lily Harlem self publilybanner

I’ve just had a review for Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse, and much to my delight it is written by a nurse…

It (Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse) centers around Sharon, a night shift nurse in a hospital somewhere in England. If she lived in the U.S., she’d be called a float pool nurse because she can work almost anywhere in the hospital. You follow her sexscapades over the course of a few days/weeks and see how much trouble she gets into as well as how many people get between her legs. She’s naughty, remember?

This book had the potential for utter ridiculousness. As a nurse, I take my profession pretty seriously and I didn’t know if this book would make nurses look like trollops. It didn’t though. It felt real! The author’s grasp of medical lingo as well as the possible happenings in a hospital all felt right. I swear she mentioned Maslow and I guffawed. It appealed to the nurse and the instructor in me. The sex was good, but not overdone and I enjoyed the characters.

And my gosh, the book actually had a plot and a decent one at that. Plus, I was rooting for her to end up with the sexy doctor. Well done, Lily Harlem. You definitely won me over.

lily harlem night nursemaslowI don’t mind saying that I was pretty damn nervous when the reviewer reached the point were she said the words ‘utter ridiculousness’ and then stated that she was a nurse, but phew, thank goodness she went on to say it ‘felt’ real. That is exactly what I was trying to achieve, an amalgamation of two big parts of my life, my erotic romance writing and my nursing days – this lovely reviewer made me happy dance. Oh, and if you’re wondering what Maslow is, it’s a psychology model used for assessing needs, starting from the very basic, moving up through the need to achieve, be encouraged etc and finally reaching self-actualisation.

I hope if you do read Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse, you enjoy Sharon’s naughty escapades. Here is the blurb and a sneaky excerpt taken from the beginning of the book.

Blurb:

When scalpels are set down, the ward lights turned off and the patients asleep, there is always time for mischief …

I guess you could call me a jack-of-all-trades nurse. I find work satisfaction in whichever department the hospital needs me most, as long as it’s through the darkest hours. Needless to say I’ve seen it all over the years, been there and done that, what’s left to shock me isn’t worth knowing. But it’s so often the quieter nighttime where the real high jinx abound.

Yes, the nocturnal life is the one for me. With a weakness for sexy guys wearing white coats and dangling stethoscopes, my fantasies are often realised and I’m adept at finding relief from the hospital grind in shadowy corners and cozy linen cupboards.

Of course my dedication to patient comfort is paramount. What kind of nurse would I be if it wasn’t? But when one act of extreme, albeit highly inappropriate, kindness forced me to become the hospital director’s snitch, the length I went to in order to keep my job, satisfied my desires and found me the love that had always evaded me. A love that made me push even my not-so-professional boundaries to the extreme.

Buy Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse Here:

Amazon US $1.60  – http://www.amazon.com/Confessions-Naughty-Night-Nurse-ebook/dp/B00ALKUMDO/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1358408815&sr=1-1&keywords=confessions+of+a+naughty+night+nurse

Amazon UK  99p – http://www.amazon.co.uk/Confessions-Naughty-Night-Nurse-ebook/dp/B00ALKUMDO/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1358409386&sr=1-1

Kobo – http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/Confessions-of-Naughty-Night-Nurse/book-cCHlzlkIyU23I5Gh_oCMFA/page1.html?s=cyqUFVT0e0O2NUFOibKLaQ&r=1

Barnes and Noble – http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/confessions-of-a-naughty-night-nurse-lily-harlem/1113965701?ean=9780007513024

More buy links available on the Mischief website http://www.mischiefbooks.com/books/confessions-naughty-night-nurse/  – and Lily Harlem’s website – http://www.lilyharlem.com

Lily Harlem Confessions of a naughty night nurseimage001(1)Excerpt:

I checked my iPhone again. Another message from Tom.

 You coming?

I typed back quickly.

 Yes, so will you soon!

The porter appeared. He was new, a young guy, wide and stocky with hair so short you could see his scalp through it. He had the word love tattooed over the knuckles on his right hand.

‘You got one for Rose Cottage,’ he grunted, tugging the closed, coffin-style trolley along behind him.

‘Yes, sideward six.’

Luckily Mr Parslow’s skinny body was light, and within a few minutes we were heading out of the ward with him safely ensconced in the metal trolley.

‘Hey, Sharon,’ Tinkard called. ‘You may as well go for your break after you’ve done that, it’s just gone midnight.’

‘Right you are.’

The ward door shut with a heavy click and I put some muscle into pushing the trolley along the deserted corridor. As the pace picked up I stared at the lumpy back of the porter’s head and wondered if he was the one who’d found Javier and Iceberg.

If only I could see into his mind.

I pondered on whether I should question him. Just come straight out and ask if he’d seen the hottest medical senior house officer since Pompeii’s hospital had got showered in ash, shagging the Wicked Witch of the West where the sun doesn’t shine.

I thought better of it. My asking alone could become gossip, and I was keen to avoid gossip that included myself. There were too many skeletons in my cupboard, and, for that matter, in clinical rooms, sluices, linen rooms, and in that handy, unused office at the back of the pharmacy. No, I would keep quiet and do my own investigating.

Stepping out into the night, I was whipped in the face by my hair, the band holding it in a low ponytail no match for the ferocity of the gale. I hunched my shoulders and stooped, trying to shelter my face from the needle-points of rain blasting my cheeks. The sound of the torrent of drips hitting the metal trolley was almost as loud as the wind creaking at the row of oaks leading to Rose Cottage. Their boughs strained and moaned, their leaves hissing in great waves of noise.

The porter sped up behind the back of the canteen and put considerable energy into pulling. By the time we went past the incinerator and turned the final corner, I found myself jogging along the uneven path.

Luckily Tom was waiting with the door to Rose Cottage held open.

We rushed in, the trolley banging over the door-bar and a scurry of leaves whirling around our feet.

‘Fucking hell,’ the porter said. ‘It’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey out there.’

Tom shut the door, winked at me, then took hold of my end of the trolley and wheeled it into the bay of body drawers. I trailed along behind, tucking my wind-wild hair back into its ponytail.

‘Yeah, good job the VIPs in here don’t care about shitty weather,’ Tom said, stopping at twenty-six C and then opening the trolley’s lid to reveal Mr Parslow’s covered body.

‘Bloody hate this part of the job, me,’ the porter said, staring at the shroud-covered lump and shuddering. ‘Don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.’

‘You go if you want,’ I said, ‘I’ll help here.’

He widened his eyes and took a step backwards. ‘Really?’

‘Sure, I’ve done it a million times. Doesn’t bother me.’

‘Bloody hell, thanks . . .’ He nibbled on his bottom lip and scanned my coat, as though searching for my name badge.

‘Sharon,’ I said. ‘Go, we’ve got this covered and I bet you’ve lots to do.’

‘Yeah, I have actually.’ He yanked his sleeves over his hands and strode back to the door.

Tom followed and I heard him lock it shut, as was standard procedure at Rose Cottage. The NHS couldn’t risk body snatching, that’s why Tom was employed as night security here.

‘Poor sod,’ Tom said, wandering back in. ‘Looked white as a sheet, didn’t he?’

‘They all do to start with.’

Tom pulled open the drawer and together we slid Mr Parslow onto the metal; his body, although light, was a dense weight. Tom then pushed the drawer shut and closed the door with a resounding slam.

He wrote Mr Parslow’s name on a piece of card and slipped it into a slot beneath.

‘So how long have you got?’ he asked, a naughty smile tugging his lips and his smoky-blue eyes twinkling.

I raised my eyebrows. ‘No time at all. Change of plan, I have to get straight back, sorry.’

‘Ah, Sharon,’ he said, frowning. ‘Why do you go and tease me like that? You know how much I look forward to your visits. They’re the only thing that keeps me going in this lifeless place.’

‘Sorry.’ I glanced down his body. Through his uniform – dark-navy trousers and shirt – Tom’s well-defined muscles could be made out, as could a fantastically long wedge of flesh behind his fly.

My pussy clenched as I remembered last week when I’d paid him a visit. He’d bent me over the desk and rammed himself into me for nearly an hour. It had been so damn hard to walk back onto the orthopaedic ward I’d actually considered nicking a pair of crutches.

I hitched in a breath, knowing I wouldn’t be able to keep up my pretence for more than another few seconds. Tom’s big dick and his skilful use of it was too damn irresistible. ‘The ward is crazy busy.’

He reached for me but I stepped away. ‘Just a kiss and a quick grope then, to keep me going.’

Quickly I moved even further away, towards the autopsy room. ‘Ha, ha,’ I said gleefully. ‘Just kidding, I’m on my break now.’

He flattened his lips into a tight line, as if holding back a broad smile, though at the same time narrowing his eyes as though furious with me. ‘You little minx,’ he said. ‘You’ll pay for that.’

‘Only if you can catch me.’ I darted into the autopsy room, dark except for a couple of low lights over a set of huge scales. The air was cool and laced with disinfectant.

I glanced around. There was a big, steel surgical table in the centre, a row of cupboards, several filing cabinets and a desk holding an ancient computer monitor.

‘Sharon,’ Tom called, the door shutting behind him with a soft whoosh. ‘You can’t escape.’

‘No, please, no,’ I said with a giggle and ran towards the far side of the room.

He chased but I dodged at the last minute, went to run for the door. He cut me off and I swivelled, found myself barging into the bolted-down table in the middle.

I gasped as the air flew from my lungs, but recovered quickly and, with my hands flat on the cool surface, scooted to the end.

Tom was facing me now, his face strewn with shadows, but I could see the thrill of the chase had flushed his cheeks and caused him to pant.

‘Come here,’ he said, edging closer.

‘No.’ I moved away from him in a circle around the table.

But it was futile; he was tall, fast and strong. Suddenly I was grabbed and tugged to the end, my body pulled up against his.

He pressed his lips down hard on mine and instantly the game was over. Now it was all about carnal satisfaction. With Tom, I was always guaranteed a spectacular orgasm and I couldn’t wait to start riding towards it.

‘Ah, yeah, baby, I’ve got you,’ he said, shoving my coat off and flicking it out of the way. ‘You gonna take it good again? Like you did last week?’

‘Yes,’ I panted, tearing at the buttons on his shirt. ‘Yes, that was so hot, I could hardly bloody walk the next day.’

He chuckled, low, deep and sexy, then kissed me again, the stubble on his chin scraping my skin and his breaths blowing hot and hard on my cheek.

He had my uniform up around my waist now and was forcing me to lie back on the ice-cold table. He stepped between my legs and leaned over me, pressing his groin into the gusset of my knickers.

‘Really, on here?’ I said, slotting my fingers into his hair and drawing my knees up so they pressed either side of his hips. ‘Where they chop up dead people? Isn’t that a bit freaky?’

‘The French for orgasm is petite mort so it’s kind of fitting.’ He was fiddling with the elastic of my underwear, at the juncture of my thighs.

‘Yeah, I suppose, but, oh –’ My words were cut off and turned into a delighted moan. He’d plunged two fingers high up inside me and found my clit with his thumb.

‘Oh, you’re such a dirty nurse,’ he murmured, kissing and licking over my cheek.

About Lily Harlem:

Lily Harlem is an award-winning author of contemporary erotic romance and lives in the UK with Mr Harlem and a host of rescued pets. Since giving up a career in nursing she loves to spend her days dreaming up naughty stories that have a happy ever afters. When you read her books be warned though, the bedroom door is always left wide open!

Lily Harlem links

Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/

Blog http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/

Twitter https://twitter.com/lily_harlem

Facebook http://en-gb.facebook.com/people/Lily-Harlem/100003519563064

Facebook author page http://www.facebook.com/pages/Lily-Harlem-author-page/200182030094568

Pinterest http://pinterest.com/lilyharlem/

Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4070110.Lily_Harlem

 

 

 

 

Smooch Your Way to Blisse Kiss Valentine Yumminess

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blisskiss chase bannerbkchase

With Valentine’s Day fast approaching, who else would be at the vanguard of the sexy, romantic, huggy, kissy, chocolates-and-roses celebration of love and lust but the fabulous team over at Blisse Kiss! Those lovers of love and connoisseurs of the kiss, Victoria and Mitnik have another fun celebration of the sexy snog. All you have to do for your chance to win Valentine yumminess is visit all the sites listed at blissekiss.co.uk and work out the password from the clues given on all the smooch bears. And the prize! A fabulous print book bundle. And yet another prize! eBooks and to spare! To win the eBooks you simply need to add up all the numbers on the smooch bears in each post and then follow the instructions on blissekiss.co.uk for what to do next.

Now here’s a hot snog from Kinky Boots to send you on you smoochy way.

Kinky Boots Blurb:

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

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

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

Kinky_BootsExpcerpt:

Everything in her went warm and liquid. Her breath caught at the feel of the leather as he guided the boot up over her heel. ‘I’ve never felt anything so soft,’ she said. ‘And they’re so pretty.’

‘Shoes should be a sensual experience,’ he said moving his large hands up to cup her calf while he settled the boot into place. Then his agile fingers began to work the laces, plucking at them, caressing them, stroking them almost as though he were making music on them, like they were some exotic stringed instrument of leather and lace. And though she couldn’t quite hear the melody, she felt the reverberation of his plucking and threading beneath the hem of the short skirt and all the way up into her warming panties.

‘Nice, huh?’

It took her a second to realise he was responding to her response. God, was she actually moaning? And please, surely she wasn’t grinding her bottom against the chintz. The blush flashed hot across her chest, but then instead of heading for her face, it headed south, settling against her clit with a heated, unexpected nip. And her moan became a yelp, just a tiny one, but a yelp nonetheless. She would have apologized, she would have died of embarrassment and fallen completely through the chair, but he was already working on the other boot, strategically sitting between her legs, breath slightly accelerated, and … Surely she was mistaken. But as he shifted to cup her calf and smooth the second boot against her leg, there was no disguising the erection growing inside the front of his jeans.

Everything below her waist clenched in appreciation, and she felt the heavy tingle of excitement up high between her thighs. The urge to rip aside the scrap of denim that was her skirt and the bit of satin that was her knickers, the urge to focus his attention somewhere far removed from her feet nearly took her breath away. ‘You like your work,’ she managed, not actually looking at his crotch, but not actually looking away from it either.

‘Very much,’ he said, working the laces through his nimble fingers, making no attempt to hide his boner.

Was it her imagination or could she actually smell him now? It was not deodorant, not soap, that she smelled but maleness. It was like baked bread and desert heat with some moist thick base note that she felt at the back of her throat rather than smelled. It made her hold her mouth slightly open to take in the fullness of his scent, like a cat taking in the scent of a rival or a possible mate.

Was it her imagination, or could she actually feel his breath against the place where her thighs rested on the chair, teasing just at the edge of her skirt. The growing warmth she now felt in her knickers was definitely not her imagination.

For a moment she closed her eyes, shutting out the precision movements of his fingers and the view of his body hunched almost protectively between her legs. Then she allowed herself to take in the picture of him that her other senses were painting so exquisitely. She heard the catch and slide of his breath, felt the velvet flutter of it raising goose flesh on the soft skin of her inner thighs. She inhaled the complex olfactory portrait of him, the scent emanating from his arm pits, his pulse points and the place where his cock strained in its tight confinement. She could feel his skin on hers as his fingers brushed her calf. It all created a picture of him almost as vivid as the one she had seen.

She opened her eyes just in time to watch him carefully, precisely, rhythmically tie the bow in the lace of the second boot. And as he tugged the looped ends snug against the knot, she felt a ripple up both legs that accelerated and intensified as it raced up between her thighs. It continued along her spine flashing red hot behind her eyes, leaving a plum coloured after-image of the clerk’s engrossed face.

She yelped and jerked in the chair, and the vertebrae in her neck pop. ‘Did you feel that?’ She was a hairs breadth away from tumbling into orgasm, and the man had done nothing more than lace her boots. He nodded, holding her gaze. His pupils were dilated, his breathing was fast. For a second neither of them moved. Time itself didn’t even move, like everything was holding its breath, like everything was waiting, just barely able to contain the anticipation, the excitement.

Then the world exploded back into real time, and she shoved her way out of the chair and onto the clerk who was still settled on his knees between her legs. He tumbled backward against the floor with a guttural sound somewhere between a groan and a growl just managing to adjust his position as she ground her way onto his lap, straddling his groin. The skirt had ridden up over her hips, and the crotch of her panties was the only thing preventing her bare ache against the tell-tale bulge in his jeans.

Smooch for Blissekiss ValentineskdgraceBefore he could say anything, she took his mouth in a clash of lips and teeth and tongue. He was more than accommodating, tongue darting, lips tugging in an effort that quickly escaped the confines of her mouth to nibble down over her jaw and wage a humid, ticklish assault on her nape, every nip of which she felt between her legs. He made quick work of her buttons, then shoved her blouse open and slid a bra strap aside to lift her right breast free to his cupping and kneading, free to be ravaged by his very expressive mouth. ‘I shouldn’t be doing this,’ he whispered against her breast. ‘Not during working hours.’

‘But I need you,’ she said, then gasped and shuddered as he bit her nipple. ‘I’ll never make it back home like this. Don’t force me to take care of myself in an alley’

‘I’m supposed to be selling shoes, not fucking my customers.’

‘You are selling shoes.’ She wriggled her toes in her boots. ‘See. And who says we have to fuck?’

He offered a wicked chuckle, then rolled with her, and when he was on top, he lifted her legs around his hips so that his still-clothed erection raked between her still- pantied swell. ‘You’re absolutely right. We don’t have to fuck,’ he said, looking down at her with his ocean changeable eyes. ‘I always try to satisfy my customers.’ Then he shifted his hips until his girth ploughed a trough right in between the spread of her, pressing her panties tightly into her heat, the fabric binding with a little hitch right against the swell of her clit as he ground and thrust.

 

 

These Boots are Made for Reading! Kinky Boots is Now Out!

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Kinky_BootsIt’s out! What started as an idea inspired by a walk around Shoreditch in London, peeking in the windows of some of the quirky shoe stores ended up to be  my latest  petite novel for Mischief Books, Kinky Boots! And it’s now available for download! You’ll never view a pair of sexy boots the same way again!

Blurb:

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

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

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

Boots again282249101616278986_uDusO7S3_b Excerpt:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Kinky Boots: Sexy Possession Coming Soon!

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Of course I had to set my petite novel, Kinky Boots, in Shoreditch! Where else in London could possibly have that sexy, slightly mystical, more than a little raunchy, have-a-good-time feel to it? Yes, I know I might be a little bit prejudiced. I have so many fond memories of Shoreditch because Sh! Women’s Store is there, and that’s my favourite place for launch parties and celebrating all things sexy.

I had the basic storyline in my head for Kinky Boots long before I put the first word down. I knew all about Jill Hart and her sexy new boots that came with something extra. I knew all about Finn Masters, the owner of Demon Heels, the quirky all-night shoe store where Jill buys her kinky boots. And I knew all about Eleanor, the lust demon who moves right in and makes herself at home — in Jill, that is. What I couldn’t quite decide was where to set Kinky Boots.  Raymond and I were in London for the weekend. Friday night at Sh! there had been readings from Best Women’s Erotica 2012, and we were staying on for the launch of Kay Jaybee’s great BDSM novel, The Perfect Submissive the next night. On  Saturday afternoon after a delish kabab at a local shop, Kay, Raymond and I decided to go for a walk in the July sunshine. And I was hooked! In front of Shoreditch City Hall, a lesbian wedding party were posing for pictures, the place was buzzing with shoppers, and I found not one but three quirky shoe shops on Shoreditch High Street, any one of which would perfectly suit my story.

In daylight, I was totally taken in by the wild blend of ultra modern glass and steel right up in the personal space of Victorian brick and stone,Kinky_Boots snuggled in close to streets that looked as though they came straight from a Sherlock Holmes novel. All of that was mixed up with industrial ruins and modern make-overs that made for an architectural orgy perfectly suited for my story. Kay, who had studied industrial archeology, gave me the low-down on what I was actually looking at.  I’d already done enough launch parties in Shoreditch to know that the streets on Friday and Saturday night are alive with people who won’t settle for less than a great time, and that was all it took. Voila! Kinky Boots was set in Shoreditch, starting with a botched girls night out at the Bluu Bar across from Sh!, a night out that ends with sex in an all-night shoe store, hot new boots, and posession by sexiest lust demon ever.

On the 24th of January, Kinky Boots, published by Mischief Books, will be officially available for possession! I’m very excited to share just a little peek of the wickedly naughty fun to come. There’ll be a blog tour and more updates as they happen. In the meantime, here’s just a sneak preview of what happens when mild-mannered Jill Hart meets lust demon extraordinare, Eleanore.

Blurb:

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

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

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

Excerpt:

Jill returned to her flat feeling pretty chuffed with the events of the evening. Nice place, Kinky Boots. Really nice. And the bloke who ran it – hotter than hot. There was something else about him, something strangely familiar, almost like if they sat down together over a cuppa they’d discover that they’d always known each other. She smiled to herself at the thought. She really couldn’t imagine them getting through a whole cuppa together without her ripping his jeans off and shagging him senseless. Even with his clothes on, it hadn’t been hard to tell that he was very nicely equipped for the task. She looked down at her lovely new boots, boots she’d left without paying for. It was the perfect excuse for going back.

* * *

shoreditch2Under the circumstances, she figured she’d be too hyped to sleep, but she did so almost instantly.

And before long the room was awash in mist that floated and swirled around her bed. Had the weather turned while she was sleeping, bringing the fog? Had she forgotten to shut her window? A sudden gust of cool wind cleared the mist just enough for Jill to catch the first glimpse of the woman at the foot of her bed, pale and translucent, lit with way more silver light than even the full moon could provide.

Strange, as she approached the bed, the curvy, feminine shape of her was clear, as though her thin clingy robe were made from the mist itself, but the woman’s face remained out of focus, as though Jill were viewing her from underwater.

She sat down on the bed next to her, and still Jill couldn’t make out the details of her face. But her voice was rich and silky, and Jill had the urge to wrap herself in the caress of it. ‘I’ve waited a long time for you, Jill Hart. Finn is such a spoilsport, not letting me play. But you’re different. He likes you, and he’ll warm to the idea of the two of us. You’ll see.’ She rubbed her hands together in anticipation. ‘Now then, sweetie, let’s have a look. Let’s see our lovely new body.’ As she reached out to smooth Jill’s hair away from her face, Jill was suddenly unable to move.

It was a dream then, surely a dream, Jill thought; one of those where someone important is at the door, but you’re paralysed, lying there in the bed, and, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t move.

The woman leaned down and kissed her on the mouth, and her breath was winter-cold but sweet and hypnotic with its icy in and out, in and out.

With a flick of her wrist she threw back the duvet and sighed her delight. Jill was surprised to find herself naked. ‘Oh, my darling, how I’ve Shoreditch town halllonged to bear the weight of breasts again, to feel the hardening and puckering of their arousal.’ She brushed cold fingertips across Jill’s nipples and they rose to a touch that was irresistible. Jill would have arched up against the cool feathery caress if she’d been able. Instead she lay unmoving, her chest rising and falling faster and faster, her nipples pearled to hard beads begging for the woman’s attention.

The woman continued her explorations. ‘Oh, the delight of belly and hips, and, ah, yes, such softness down there.’ She trailed her fingers down Jill’s tummy and cupped her mons, caressed and fondled her tight curls, and the sound that escaped Jill’s lips was a kittenish mew.

The woman smiled knowingly. ‘The pleasures of the flesh, my lovely, how we shall share them, how we shall revel in them, you and I. It’ll be so delicious for both of us, I promise you.’ Then, with the flat of her hand, she opened Jill’s legs.

Jill was helpless to deny her access, even if she’d wanted to, and she didn’t. It was only a dream, she told herself, and sexy dreams should come as no surprise after her encounter at Kinky Boots. And anyway, it had to be a dream because she was too shy even to undress in front of Vivie, and here she lay practically willing this woman to check out all that she had … down there.

‘Let us see, my darling,’ the woman cooed. ‘Let us see you.’ Jill watched helplessly as the woman forced her knees up and wide until Jill felt herself exposed, butter-cream slick and heavy.

Shoreditch 1images‘Yes, my love. That’s it. Let me see what we shall have such delight in sharing. Oh, yes, lovely. So lovely.’ With one hand still resting in Jill’s pubic curls the woman lowered her face for a closer look. Then with a scoop and a twist she trailed fingers up between Jill’s cleft and brought them to her lips as though she were tasting her favourite dish. ‘Mmm,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, Finn’s going to love you.’ She lowered a tongue-flick of a kiss onto Jill’s hard clit, and Jill came. The electrifying power of her orgasm raged through her paralysed body to every nerve ending, every blood cell, every synapse, raging out in all directions, then returning in a hot rush of energy to the hardened node of her clit before settling deep inside her. She could neither writhe nor buck. All she could do was moan and quiver.

‘Oh, yes, my darling, you are delightful, the way your lovely pussy muscles tighten and convulse when you come. How wonderful it will be to have a body with such libido, such hunger. Oh, how Finn will ride you. I think that –’

The woman was interrupted by the call of a man. ‘Eleanor? Eleanor, are you there?’

She put a finger to her lips. ‘He’ll find out eventually, dear Jill, but when he does it’ll no longer matter.’ She brushed a kiss across Jill’s lips, and for the first time Jill got a clear view of the woman’s face. She recognised it well because it was her face. Before she could dwell on the strangeness of such a revelation, the woman lay down in her arms, nuzzled in tight against Jill’s breasts and pulled the duvet up over both of them. From a distance Jill could still hear the man calling for Eleanor, but that was the last thing she remembered until morning.

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