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In Training is FREE!

No! I don’t mean that you can get training for free, though I suppose you could if you looked hard enough or if you did it yourself. What I mean is that my novella, In Training is FREE all through the month of June. All you have to do is follow this link and you’ll find way more than just In Training. In fact you’ll find all kinds of wonderful, spicy summer reads for FREE!

What happens when a girl meets her destiny and her doom in one gloriously hard-bodied, hot package in a pub the night before her life becomes a sweaty, muscle aching, joint straining, cardio pounding living hell? You can find out for free!

 

In Training Blurb:

Getting fit on reality TV is PR guru, Lauren Michaels’, brainchild for gym equipment and fitness company Physicality,
Inc. The brilliant PR stunt involves one brave volunteer who wants to be fit badly enough to submit to the not so tender training techniques of personal trainer, Wolf Jennings, whose successful, but non-conventional, methods would make a drill sergeant look like a fluff ball. But when CEO and owner of Physicality, Inc., Claire Amos, decides her PR ace in the hole needs to walk the walk, Lauren finds herself between a kettle bell and a hard place… er, a hard trainer. That’s nightmare enough, but for six weeks, 24/7, the explosive chemistry between the two will be sweated out live on camera for the whole world to see. What could possibly go wrong?

 

 

Chance Encounter: In Training Excerpt:

Lauren had nearly finished her second pint, when a man plopped down on the stool next to her. “‘Zat Sneck Lifter?” he asked.

She raised her glass and offered a nod.

“Ah, a woman with good taste.” He motioned for the bartender and pointed at her pint. “You don’t see many women tossing back real ale these days.”

He looked like he’d come straight from the financial district in London. It was a look not all that common in a Keswick pub, where walking gear and outdoor clothing were the Cumbrian uniform of choice. Dark hair and delicious bedroom stubble framed the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. The big city look lasted a whole two seconds before he shoved the jacket carelessly onto the stool next to him and jerked at the tie like it was a snake. That it had taken the strip tease for her to really appreciate that the man looked damn fine was a testament to how badly her day had sucked.

“Ah! That’s better,” he said with a northern accent that had local boy written all over it. “It’s like getting out of a straitjacket. Not that I’ve ever actually been in one,” he added, rolling his broad shoulders and cracking his neck from side to side.

When she offered only a jerk of a smile, he continued. “The best thing about a suit is taking it off.”

She couldn’t argue that point after seeing him in the act.

The bartender delivered his Sneck Lifter. He slapped down a tenner and raised his glass. “Here’s to new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings,” she replied, gulping back the last of her pint and ordering another.

Tall, dark and northern gave her the hard stare. “Spoken with the enthusiasm of someone going to their own execution.”

“Sometimes new beginnings aren’t what they’re cracked up to be,” Lauren replied.

The bartender delivered her drink and went back to stacking glasses on the shelf.

“Mind if I ask?” He didn’t wait for her reply. “Break up, divorce?”

She banged her glass down on the bar. “Why does it always have to be about relationships? Why is that the first question you ask a woman? Did it ever occur to you, it might be something else?”

He gave his dimpled chin a thoughtful stroke, not the least bit put off by her sharp answer. Moving closer, he leaned one elbow on the bar in such a way that she couldn’t help but notice the strain of hard muscles on well-cut cloth. “Work, then; you lost your job?”

“Since we seem to be playing twenty questions, no, I didn’t lose my fucking job.”

He clucked his tongue. “I would have thought for sure that was it, foul language and all. Did you have it out with your boss?”

She mirrored his posture and leaned into his solicitous smile, forcing a bitter one of her own. “Oh, I fucking had it out with the fucking boss all right, and it didn’t do a fucking bit of good. Any more questions?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” he said without losing a beat. “Where does a skinny-arsed chick like you put all that Sneck Lifter, and will I have to stuff you in a cab to send you home later?”

“I’m not skinny, and I can hold my alcohol just fine, thank you.” She raised her glass and chugged half of it.

He looked her up and down. “Well, you’re sure as hell not fat. Living on caffeine and fags doesn’t put much meat on a woman’s bones. I can handle that, I suppose, as long as you promise not to puke on my shoes later.”

She ground her teeth. “First off, I don’t smoke. Secondly, I don’t recall us discussing any later.”

The bastard still wasn’t bothered by her belligerent attitude. “Hmm. I would have thought for certain he’d fired you—your boss, I mean. You know, didn’t like having a hard-drinking, hard-talking woman tearing him a new one?”

“She.”

“What?”

“My boss is a she, and no she didn’t fire me. I’m her golden girl. She just has a sick sense of humour. That’s all.”

He raised an eyebrow and took a thoughtful sip of his beer. “Didn’t see that coming.” He leaned closer. “Wanna tell me about it?”

“Let’s just say I’m in way over my head, and I have no idea how to get out.”

“Your boss isn’t organised crime, is she? A mafia queen maybe?”

In spite of herself Lauren laughed at the thought of Claire Amos smoking a big cigar and talking with a sharp New York accent. “No, nothing so sinister as that.” She gave a little jerk of her shoulder. “Okay, well there is the offer I can’t refuse part.” Before he could respond she waved a negating hand. “I really don’t want to talk about it. I’ll figure something out. I always do. So you’re obviously here to celebrate. What’s your reason? Just closed the big deal for your company?”

He smiled down into the ale he’d barely touched. “I ammy company, but something like that, yes.” He turned his attention to the bartender and ordered two waters. “Buy you a drink,” he said, pushing one in front of her.

“Oh, how sweet. You shouldn’t have,” she said raising the glass in salute.

“Actually, the way you’re tossing ‘em back, I shouldhave—what with your body weight, even if your metabolism is pretty high, you’ll need it. And let me guess, you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, if you even had that. Either way, I’d say you need to hydrate.”

“Thank you, Father,” she grumbled.

“You’ll thank me in the morning when you don’t feel quite so shitty.”

“So,” she glugged back the water and scooted closer, “you think I’m skinny?”

“No, not really. You’re just not very well muscled. You look a bit wimpy to me.”

“Well, don’t you just know how to make a girl feel sexy,” she said, returning her attention to her pint.

“What can I say, I’m hot for dirty-mouthed, ale-drinking women.”

This time her laugh was genuine. “I think you need to work on your pick-up lines.” She couldn’t help the blush that climbed her cheeks. For the first time in a long time, she found herself feeling almost pretty—even with her lack of muscle.

“I don’t know. It seems to be working pretty well so far.” He reached out and curled a tendril of red hair that had escaped her day-old chignon around his finger. “I figure if you don’t hit me or knee me in the balls, and if I halfway behave myself, I might just get to celebrate with someone interesting and pretty too.”

She groaned. “Fine. I’ll celebrate with you—celebrate my last day of freedom.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “So that’s it then, you’re a convicted criminal off to prison after one last pint?”

She sipped her beer. “Might as well be.”

“I could bring you a cake with a file in it.” He suggested. “Though I don’t really bake.”

“Trust me,” she patted his hand, “I’ll probably be appreciating the cake a lot more than the file before long. And I don’t care if you bake it or buy it at Sainsbury’s.”

“Sounds harsh,” he said, then he added, “Look, I’m gonna be pretty tied up with work for the next few weeks, but I could show you around a bit if you’d like, you know, make your last night of freedom memorable. Beautiful place, the Lakes.”

She leaned in close. “How well do you know the area?”

“Well enough. I was born and raised in Keswick.”

“I’m all yours, then,” she said, downing the last of her pint. “Show me.” She all but fell off her stool and right into his arms.

“Thought you could handle your alcohol,” he said with a chuckle.

“Oh, I can handle that just fine,” she replied, feeling suddenly brazen and bold. “I caught my heel in the strap of my bag. That’s all. Lucky you were here to catch me.”

“Lucky, indeed,” he all but purred.

The lip lock was not planned, but the feel of a hard male body, one that was actually interested in her, was just what she needed after the crap day she’d had. The knowledge it was going to get way worse before it got better emboldened her. She leaned in close to steal a kiss. She decided she really liked being a thief and stole another one. She decided she liked being a thief even better when those kisses were returned with enthusiasm and a stealthy flick of the tongue. He drew her up close to muscle and sinew and strength in all the right places and all the right proportions. She found herself practically on the man’s lap—definitely close enough to be certain he was enjoying the clinch as much as she was.

“Get a room, you two,” the bartender said with a quirk of a smile from under bushy raised eyebrows.

“Might just do,” big and brawny said without actually pulling his mouth away from Lauren’s.

“Might just do,” she repeated, her words distorted because her tongue had better things to do than ensure good pronunciation.

She hefted her bag, and he grabbed up his jacket and tie, throwing the jacket over her shoulders and looping the tie around her neck. Tugging the two ends playfully, he led her past the billiards table, and down a narrow hallway that passed the ladies’ room. Then he made a sharp left out past the open kitchen door into a small, but fairly private garden in the back.

“Don’t think we’ll make it to a room,” he said as they exited the pub and he tugged her into the garden up close to a
blooming lilac.

“Don’t think I care,” she replied.

“Maybe for round two,” he said as he backed her against the rough brick and picked up the mouth-to-mouth where they’d left off.

“Don’t know what’s the matter with me,” she managed between nips and licks and tugs and pulls. “I don’t do this sort of thing.”

“Neither do I.” His kisses migrated to her neck. He slid a hand up her thigh and beneath her skirt. “Celebrating new beginnings, I guess.”

“Must be that,” she agreed. One of the kitchen staff came through the door for a ciggy break, stopped short, gave them the once-over and went back inside. She barely noticed. She was far too occupied with hard muscles and an expressive mouth up close and personal. He cupped and stroked and explored, finding the fastest routes to bare skin and sensitive places. She returned the favour, hiking her skirt enough to hook one leg around his hip. He cupped her bum and lifted her off the ground with her offering an undignified little yelp. And there they were, panties creating friction against bespoke trousers that barely contained his desire, both of them shifting and rubbing and pressing for all they were worth.

It was her efforts to reach the condom in the side pocket of her bag that ruined the mood. The bag slid off her shoulder and ended upside down on the cobbles, the contents skittering in all directions. They both dropped to their knees laughing and gasping and scrabbling to pick up her things. He gave her a hard nip high on the thigh just as she reached for the condom beneath the picnic table. It was then that his phone fell out of his jacket that she had miraculously managed to keep around her shoulders. At the moment he grabbed for it, a text pinged. He started to shove it into his shirt pocket and then did a double take. He froze there on his hands and knees, the colour leeching from his face as he looked from his phone to her and back again.

“You’re Lauren Michaels?”

“In the flesh.”

“Your boss is Claire Amos?” His voice cracked, and he looked at her as though she’d suddenly sprouted horns.

“That’s right, why? Do you know Claire?”

He scrambled to his feet, offering her his hand. “You’re right.” The muscles around his chiseled cheekbones twitched. “She does have a sick sense of humour.” He stood for a second looking her over like he was seeing her for the first time. Then he jammed the phone in the pocket of his trousers. “I gotta go.”

Just like that he turned and fled, leaving her with his coat and tie and one more reason why this had been a totally crap day.

 

In Training Fit for a Re-Launch

Happy Day After Valentine’s Day, my Lovelies! New Years Resolutions have either become new habits or fallen by the wayside by now, and everyone needs a little inspiration now and again, so it seems like the perfect time to re-launch my novella, In Training. This novella originally appeared in the British Bad Boy Box Set a year and a half ago, and I’m now very happy to be launching it as a stand-alone. It’s a comedy of errors, steamy romance, fitness-based romp at it’s sweatiest. And no New Years resolution is ever required to enjoy someone else’s sweaty workout.

If you know anything about me you know that I’m a fitness junkie, with or without any resolution. But let’s face it, not everyone is all that fond of getting sweaty anyplace other than between the sheets. Our heroine, Lauren Michaels, certainly isn’t a fan. You can well imagine she is not best pleased when she finds herself the guinea pig in her own PR stunt. She may be the PR guru for fitness firm, Physicality, Inc, but that doesn’t mean she wants to walk the talk, especially not when bad boy personal trainer, Wolf Jennings, is the one who will be whipping her into shape. Enjoy the little excerpt.

 

In Training Blurb:

Getting fit on reality TV is PR guru, Lauren Michaels’, brainchild for gym equipment and fitness company Physicality, Inc. The brilliant PR stunt involves one brave volunteer who wants to be fit badly enough to submit to the not so tender training techniques of personal trainer, Wolf Jennings, whose successful, but non-conventional, methods would make a drill sergeant look like a fluff ball. But when CEO and owner of Physicality, Inc., Claire Amos, decides her PR ace in the hole needs to walk the walk, Lauren finds herself between a kettle bell and a hard place… er, a hard trainer. That’s nightmare enough, but for six weeks, 24/7, the explosive chemistry between the two will be sweated out live on camera for the whole world to see. What could possibly go wrong?

 

In Training Excerpt:

Claire’s phone blared out Flight of the Valkyries over Jennings’ barked instructions to his tortured clients. “Speaking of the devil,” she said, nodding to Jennings’ arse on the screen as she answered her device. “Wolf, darling! Lauren and I were just talking about you. Watching your lovely video, actually. On our way over.” She winked at Lauren, whose stomach suddenly felt like it was in freefall. “Here, sweetie, let me put you on speaker so I can introduce you two,” she said just as the Wolf Jennings on the screen yelled for his people to clench those glutes and zip those abs.

And suddenly it was like that slow-motion scene in a horror film, just before the pretty young innocent is shredded by Freddy Krueger or pursued by the monster from the fetid swamp. Wolf Jennings turned to gaze at the camera from beneath hooded eyelids that revealed familiar blue eyes. He offered a smile that was damn near erotic. Then he said in a very northern accent, “If you do your part, I guarantee I’ll get you there.”

As the clip ended and Misty and Del were once again on camera, Lauren sat frozen to the spot, just like all those poor women in the films. She didn’t scream, though she felt like it. Instead she managed in a shaky voice, “I can’t work with him.”

“I can’t work with her.” The response on the other end of the phone was simultaneous. The familiar voice was honey and heat and frustration. Then he continued, sounding at least as breathless as he had on his video, as he had when he got up close and personal with her in the garden behind the pub. “There’s been some mistake, Claire. I can’t work with her. We can’t work together.”

The smile on her boss’s face slipped just a fraction. “Why ever not, Wolf? You two are perfect together. Not only is Lauren comfortable on camera, but she’s horribly unfit.” Before either of them could respond, she continued, “I need my PR ace in the hole fighting fit, and right now I doubt if she could fight her way out of a paper bag.”

“Oh, yes, I could.” Fuck, Lauren sounded like a kid at the Christmas pantomime.

“Didn’t look like you could on the stairs,” Claire responded. She turned her attention back to Jennings. “Obese couch potatoes or under-muscled, out-of-shape career women, unfit is unfit, Wolf.”

“I’m not really that unfit.” Lauren barely got the words out before they both said in unison,

“Yes you are.”

A part of her wanted to crawl under the seat in her embarrassment while the other part wanted to punch Wolf Jennings right in his smug gob. Instead she snarled between her teeth, “You lied to me, Jennings.”

“I lied to you?” His voice became a hushed growl. “How do you figure that? If anything, you lied to me.”

“As I recall you’re the one who sat down right next to me and wheedled your way in. I didn’t ask for your company.” She leaned closer to Claire’s iPhone, which the woman obligingly held up for her, with a bemused shrug. “I didn’t even know who the hell you were, or you’d have been wearing your Sneck Lifter.”

“Did you two have sex?” Claire Amos seldom pulled punches.

“We didn’t,” Lauren said.

“We would have,” Wolf said.

“Would not,” she responded.

“Oh, and that’s why you grabbed for the condom, was it? You couldn’t even wait to get to a room.”

“You had me pushed up against the garden wall. I wouldn’t have come near you if I’d known that you were Wolf fucking Jennings.” She grabbed Claire’s phone away and all but yelled into it. “Look, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me to. I’m not one of your fucking gym bunnies.”

“Clearly,” he spat back.

Lauren felt the chill of doom crawl up her spine as Claire took the phone from her hand. The smile on her face was back, this time with a good dose of scheming behind it. “Let me get this straight, the two of you ran into each other in a pub?”

“Yes.”

“And one thing led to another and you got touchy-feely.”

“Yes.”

“Mind telling me why you didn’t do the deed?”

“You sent me the fucking file with Lauren Michaels’ image front and centre,” Wolf managed. Even on the phone, Lauren could tell he was struggling as much for control as she was. “I don’t sleep with my clients.”

“Well you must not have been too into each other if you let a little text file stop the action.”

“I didn’t check it intentionally.” He sounded offended. “The phone fell out of my jacket and the message popped up with Lauren’s name and photo.”

Claire actually giggled. “I won’t even ask which of your explosive cardio moves you were trying on Lauren that made your phone fall out of your pocket.”

 

Double Trouble, Double Release From Adriana Kraft

 

Love you a little Adriana Kraft? Well today’s your lucky day with twice as much reading yumminess being launched! AND Adriana will be awarding a $10 Amazon GC, to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here.

 

Now here’s the latest news from Adriana Kraft, launching A Woman for Zachary –Book Two of Meghan’s Playhouse, AND Hot to the Touch, Book Fifteen of Swinging Games

 

Take it away, Adriana! 

 

One of my favorite recent memes from FaceBook reads as follows: When I get old, they’re never going to say “what a sweet old lady.” They’re gonna say “what on EARTH is she up to now?!”

 

If that sounds like trouble, hold on to your hat—we’ve got a double dose heading your way. Our two recent erotic romance ménage releases feature leading characters at mid-life.

 

Baby boomers ourselves, we often write characters in their 40s, 50s, and even 60s and beyond. If that’s not what trips your trigger, these two books aren’t for you – but, with any luck, all of us will reach these ages eventually, and we hope our readers do so with vim, vigor, and yes, a vibrant and active sex life. We like to think some of our characters can light the way.

 

Hot to the Touch takes the mid-fifties couple who star in our Swinging Games series to a clothing optional RV resort for some summer fun. In A Woman for Zachary, the early twenties heroine who starred in Seducing Cat hooks up with a mid-forties woman and an early-fifties man to ignite the spark that’s been smoldering between them.

 

 

A Woman for Zachary Blurb:

It’s New York! Broadway beckons, but Meg has more fun keeping an erotic triangle going with her current flame, Zach Cullen, and her drama coach, Josie Patrice.

Zachary Cullen has ignored Josette Patrice’s overtures for years, but she agrees to take on his latest protégé-slash-arm-candy Meghan Keenan in her off-Broadway workshop theater. Though the girl has incredible talent, Josie would stake her reputation on that little thing being a switch-hitter, like herself, and she doesn’t want Zach to be duped.

 

Josie sets out to seduce Meg and expose her for what she is, but all bets are off when Meg turns the tables on Josie to hook her up with Zach.

 

Erotic Romance Ménage

Novella, 28,000 words

eXtasy Books, August 4, 2017

Four Flames: Explicit Sex, MF, FF;

Ménage, FFM, FMF; Sex toys

 

Buy Links:

extasy books | Amazon

Excerpt:

Josie was shaking her head back and forth before Zach finished speaking. “That’s not enough.”

Zach closed the distance between the two of them.

She pressed her back against the wall, and he placed his palms against it, framing her head. She licked her lips.

What was he doing? She’d imagined him being this close countless times, but not in this way. Not in anger. Not struggling with his sense of fairness over sharing another woman. She kept her arms locked at her sides.

“That’s exactly what Meg said. What is enough? Do we draw lots for her?”

Josie shook her head.

“Maybe I can have her even days of the month and you odd days.”

“That might work.” Josie could hardly breathe. Zach’s male scent was overpowering. She’d agree to almost anything, if he just stayed where he was. She should be afraid of him, but she wasn’t. This was a man she’d known for a decade. He might be very angry, even deeply pained, but he wouldn’t hurt her—at least not physically.

“It works for parking cars in the winter. It’s a beginning, I guess.” His eyes darkened with a passion she couldn’t decipher. She watched his eyes shut and re-open.

And then his mouth was crushing against hers. She tried to breathe through her nostrils. His muffled groans filled her mouth. Tentatively, she lifted her hands to his shoulders. It was as if he was in a trance. She sighed and pulled him closer. Maybe she was, too.

 

 

 

Hot to the Touch Blurb:

Can the summer get any hotter? Escaping Southern Indiana summer heat, swingers Brett and Jen check out a Minnesota clothing optional RV resort, where the rules are very different from the swing lifestyle venues they’re used to. When they spot a hot looking couple in the swimming pool, they’re definitely interested, but they know better than to make the first move. Will Paul and Kim turn out to be players, or will Brett and Jen get a cold shoulder?

 

Erotic Romance Ménage

Short Story, 7,000 words

eXtasy Books, July 30, 2017

Four Flames: Explicit Sex, MF, FF;

Ménage, MFMF

 

Buy Links:

extasy books | Amazon

Excerpt:

“Hi guys,” Kim said, giving Jen a hug. “We ran into traffic, but we’re here at last. I love your outfit, Jen. That short skirt is just right for your long legs. You guys are fine dancers.”

“And you look fantastic,” Jen managed to say. “That top is so sexy. As you said, just a touch of mystery. And I love those dangling earrings. They sparkle nearly as much as you do. Absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you,” Kim murmured, turning to hug Brett.

“As stunning as you look,” Paul said, gathering Jen into his arms for a long hug. “You both look scrumptious. Good enough to eat. Right, Brett?”

Brett nodded.

Jen noticed Kim made no move to break away from Brett’s arms. She watched the olive-skinned woman drag her lips across Brett’s wrist before lifting it up and sliding onto the curved bench. Jen slid in from the other side, with the guys sitting on either end. A bare leg brushed against her left leg, a trousered one against her right. If those legs were meant to only tease, she’d be very, very upset before the night was over.

 

 

About Adriana Kraft:

Winner of the 2014 Bisexual Book Award for erotic fiction, author Adriana Kraft is a married couple writing Sizzling Romantic Suspense and Erotic Romance for Two, Three, or More.

One man, one woman, danger and intrigue – always a happy ending, but oh, what a ride! Readers can count on our Romantic Suspense line for gutsy characters, hot sex, and breathtaking intimacy as our hero and heroine battle outer threats and inner demons to stay alive and fall in love.

A man, a woman (or two), or another man, threesomes, foursomes—what’s your fantasy? We write our Erotic Romance stories to entertain, of course, but most of all we write them because we believe in happy endings for all who fall in love, whatever their gender, sexual orientation or numerical combination. Here you’ll find multiple partners, three-way, four-way and more, swing lifestyle, lesbian, bisexual, ménage and polyamory, in both contemporary and paranormal settings.

Together we have published over thirty-five romance novels and novellas to outstanding reviews. We love hearing from readers at adrianakraft99@yahoo.com, and here is our website:

 

When It’s Time to Heat Things Up http://adrianakraft.com

Author Links:

Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads | Pinterest | Amazon Author Page | Newsletter

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

Toys for Boys Launches Today!

 

I’m very excited to announce the launch of my M/M novella, Toys for Boys, just in time for Valentine’s Day. If you like some serious hot male bonding fun al fresco, then you’ll enjoy T4B.

Toys for Boys was a fantastic opportunity to revisit one of my very favourite holidays of all times — our Coast to Coast walk across England. One of the best parts of doing the Wainwright Coast to Coast Path was that it was mostly low tech – good walking gear and navigation skills and putting one foot in front of the other. That meant a feeling of accomplishment at the end of each day and it meant that my husband and I didn’t miss the finer moments because our noses were buried in our iPhones.

Will and Doc’s story is one of adventures with high tech while being very creative with low tech at the same time. That combo made for fun and sexy writing.

Here’s a sizzler of an excerpt for your reading pleasure.

 

 

High tech meets low tech in a wilderness adventure that sizzles

 


Toys for Boys Blurb:

Alpha nerd Will Charles teams up with Caridoc ‘Doc’ Jones in a coast to coast walk across England reviewing outdoor gift suggestions for the Christmas edition of Toys for Boys—an online magazine dedicated to the latest gadgets to tickle a man’s fancy. Will is recording their adventures with the latest smart phone technology. Doc is reviewing the latest outdoor gear. The two quickly discover the great outdoors provides even better toys for boys, toys best shared al fresco, toys that, in spite of Will’s great camera work, will never be reviewed in Toys for Boys.

Note: Toys for Boys has been previously published as part of the Brit Boys: With Toys boxed set.

 

 

 

Toys for Boys Excerpt:

“We’re not going to make Ennerdale tonight,” Doc yelled into the wind.

Will’s answer was incoherent, an incoherence that wasn’t entirely because the wind was interfering with Doc’s hearing. They’d already got lost once and had fought their way back to the trail. Doc was fucking freezing, but he had spent enough time outdoors in bad weather to push his body way further than most people could. No matter how fit Will was, Doc recognised the signs of hypothermia when he saw them. They had to get out of the weather and get warm.

They lost the trail twice more before Doc made the executive decision to set up a tent in the first spot halfway flat. To his surprise it had been the damn urBrain that had saved the day. Will had downloaded detailed, interactive OS maps, but in his condition, Doc doubted if he could read his own name in bold letters, let alone the contours of a map. He’d pried the device, safe from the weather in its own little waterproof sheath, from Will’s icy hands and, with the light from the screen, he was able to find a wooded area relatively flat and as shielded from the weather as they were likely to get. The rain turned to hail and the Arctic wind made it feel like bird shot against all bits of exposed skin as Doc struggled to set up the tent. He’d shoved another energy bar at Will, and when he’d only stood there looking at it, Doc had opened it and half crammed it down his throat before he went back to work on shelter, desperate to get Will out of the weather.

Once the tent was secure, he chucked the bags inside, then grabbed Will by the collar and dragged him into the tight little space.

The energy bar must have helped. Will seemed coherent enough. “I can’t feel my hands,” he said, battling to get his sleeping bag out of its waterproof sack.

“Give me that,” Doc said through chattering teeth. “Let me do it. My hands aren’t all delicate and dainty like yours.”

“Would you look at that?” Will said as Doc grabbed the bag. “Amazingly, my middle finger works just fine.” He flipped him off.

“So does your smart mouth.” Without thinking, Doc zipped the two bags together.

“What are you doing?” Will was suddenly serious.

“You’re hypothermic. Get your wet clothes off and get into the bag.”

“Oh. Right.” But Will could no more manage the buttons and zippers on his clothing than he could his sleeping bag.
This time when Doc shoved his hands away and pushed the waterproof jacket off his shoulders, Will only watched, eyes focussed on the process as though it were something totally new to him. Doc cursed the fiddly buttons on the man’s shirt, his own hands none too agile from the cold and wet and the fact that he was undressing Will fucking Charles, about whom he’d been having less than pristine thoughts since his first view of the man’s arse. Will fucking Charles with whom he was about to cuddle down into a sleeping bag butt naked, never mind that it was with good reason.

Will sucked in a harsh breath. “Your damned hands are like ice cubes, Woodsy.”

“Oh shut it, William, or I’ll kick your arse outside and make you sleep in the rain.”

“Fucking like to see you try.” Will’s teeth were chattering hard, and his whole body trembling from the cold as Doc worried the shorts down over his commando bum and found himself face to cock, which made the blighter burst into hysterical laughter. “Have we ulterior motives, Mr Jones? Where the hell’s urBrain? I have to get this on camera.”

“Want a selfie of your cock, do you, you shivering bastard?” Doc turned his attention to the walking boots, which had stopped all progress of getting the man naked. Focusing on something other than the naked, very vulnerable body of Will fucking Charles helped clear his mind. He was too cold, too tired to get hard over what was essentially a matter of life and death, he told himself. Surely!

Once the boots were dispensed with, he shoved the man into the sleeping bag and went about the awkward business of stripping himself.

“Where the hell is the urBrain when I need it?” Will chuckled between chattering teeth.

“You point that thing at me, and I’ll shove it up your arse.” Doc’s own teeth sounded like a couple of spastic tap dancers had been turned loose in his mouth.

“Now that’s a function I didn’t find in the instruction manual,” Will replied.

What started out as ribald comments on the shrivelling effect of the cold on male tender bits dwindled to nothing more than the sound of convulsive shivering. By the time Doc had shed the last of his clothes and shoved his way down next to Will, he was seriously worried. It took all his strength, which wasn’t a helluva lot at that moment, to pull the bloke into his arms and hold him close enough to share body heat, what little there was of it. The worry subsided a bit when Will threw his arms around his neck and gave a harsh chuckle against his throat. “This was seriously worth getting hypothermic for. Pity I’m too fucking tired to appreciate it.”

Though Doc agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment, his focus was on getting Will warm. Then he’d get out the backpacking stove and fix them something hot. That was the last thing he remembered, that and the feel of Will’s body shivering against him, in the tent redolent with the male scent of core heat and wet gear, all overlaid by the icy metal smell of the fells in a storm.

 

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The Psychology of Dreams 101 Launches Today!

You’re Beautiful When you Dream!

 

I’m excited to start 2017 on a high note. It’s Launch day for The Psychology of Dreams 101! Who hasn’t had sexy dreams about a professor or a teacher or someone they’ve crushed on? And, seriously, is there anything more sexy than thinking about the psychology of what happens when dreams turn steamy?

The Psychology of Dreams 101 is the story of Leah Kent, who takes an adult education class called The Psychology of Dreams 101, which involves keeping a dream journal. But when her journal starts taking on a very sexy, sometimes chilly life of her own, and she finds her dreams tied to those of her professor, Al Foster, their joint exploration of the dream world goes from sizzling to chilling and back again.

The Psychology of Dreams 101 is an X-rated, fast paced novella in which nothing is what it appears to be, but then dreams are like that, aren’t they?

Here’s a little excerpt from Leah’s journey into the dream world. Enjoy.

 

 

The Psychology of Dreams 101 Blurb:

What if there was punishment when you didn’t dream the right dreams? That’s the dilemma Leah Kent, and her professor, Al Foster must face—dream right, or take the punishment. The Psychology of Dreams 101 is a wander into the sexy and dark unconscious as Leah takes a Psychology of Dreams adult education class, only to discover that the required dream journal leads to some seriously kinky night journeys. But not all dreams are pleasant ones, and some have far-reaching repercussions in the waking world.

 

Excerpt — Dream Punishment:

Perhaps it was OD-ing on romcoms that caused her to have sexy dream about Al. In truth they were mostly just images, disjointed, arousing, sometimes shameful images – images of walking into his office and finding him masturbating, images of somehow ending up in the men’s locker room at the gym and finding him in the shower, steamy water pulsing over strong arms and a tight ass as he hunched over himself paying particular attention to the soaping of his junk. There was one dream, however, that she remembered vividly. Al sat behind his desk in the empty classroom clad in his usual polo shirt and jeans. He had asked her to stay after. “I’m not happy with your dream journal, Leah,” he said, looking her up and down. She suddenly felt naked, embarrassed, and dreams being what they were, well she had good reason. She wore only red lace underwear that was nearly transparent; certainly they did nothing to disguise her heavy nipples. “When are you going to learn that all you have to do is just relax and let it happen?”

“I try, Al, really I do, but I just can’t seem to dream about you.”

“Then perhaps you need a little encouragement.” He stood and pulled his belt from its loops around his waist all the while raking her with a critical gaze. “If I lay a few bright pink welts across your nice round ass, do you think maybe when you lie down in bed tonight, when your poor tender bottom touches those clean rough sheets, you might manage to remember me in your dreams?”

“Yes. Yes, I think that might help,” she said. Fuck! What was she thinking? How could she agree to such a thing? And yet, she did, most heartily she did.

Before she could say more, or rethink the arrangement, he yanked her around the desk, dropped back into the chair and pulled her over his knees. He all but tore her panties off her and she woke screaming and begging just as the first lash fell. For a moment she lay in the darkness gasping for breath, struggling with the strange mix of emotions that came from wanting the man to spank her and yet not, but certainly wishing she could go back to sleep and finish the dream. She was wet with sweat and, was she imagining it, or did her bottom actually hurt? She was definitely not imaging her state of arousal. There would be no returning to the dream world until she could make herself a little more comfortable, and that meant fantasizing about just what Al would do after he’d finished spanking her. It didn’t take her long to bring herself over the edge, and then she fell almost instantly back to sleep.

It was the morning sun streaming through the curtains she forgot to close that woke her, disappointed that Al Foster had not returned to her dreamscape, though he had, nonetheless, provided her with a good orgasm. Certainly she couldn’t’ write any of those dreams in her journal. She might have to start a private journal just for sexy dreams – assuming this wasn’t a one-off. God, she hoped this wasn’t a one-off.

As she sat up on the edge of her bed and stretched, she noticed the dream journal open with the pen lying across the
page, which read:

You look beautiful when you dream. It was a good dream, the kind you don’t want to wake up from. At last, Leah,
you’re doing it right! You can always tell when you do it right by the way your nipples bead beneath the sheet, by the
way your lips turned up at the corners, slightly parted as though waiting to be kissed. And, take a sniff, Leah. Your scent is the scent of dreams well dreamed, luscious and ripe. Well done, Leah! Well done!

There was no doubt the writing was her own, though way neater than most of the scrawl she’d written at speed. The thing was, she had no memory of writing it.

 

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© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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