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The Supernatural Erotic Bucket List by C M Fontana

tourbutton_sexualsorceryI’ll admit it, I have a bucket list of erotic scenes that I want to tackle. But this isn’t the usual list of “things that are so great, I simply must…” – it isn’t a six hottest, ten raunchiest, or twenty most popular, kind of a list. In fact, it’s the opposite. It’s a list of ideas and clichés that have been done to death, or are just commonplace that they require extra thought to breathe some freshness into them.

My challenge is to find ways to tackle them in a way that’s fresh, interesting.

For example, take the whole cliché of the ritual sex on an altar between a sorcerer and his partner or assistant. It’s dark, dangerous, transgressive, it blurs boundaries between private and public… and less analytically, a lot of people just find the idea, instinctively, really hot. But it’s also too common an idea to be interesting. Dubious occult ritual starts and turns into sex scene: that’s far too obvious to make an interesting story. Whether or not it’s sexy, and whether or not there are logical reasons why people find it hot, I’m just not going there without a new take on it – something that makes the scene unexpected as well as raunchy, that works with the characters involved, and also drives the story forward.

Sexual SorcerySome of these well-used ideas I’ve already reworked – such as the frustrated ghost of a jilted bride trope. Others I can’t imagine doing any time soon, but I’d like to tackle them eventually (lesbian vampires leap to mind – yes, they’re obviously sexy, but no, I can’t imagine at the moment how I’d avoid cliché with that one).

This is not, however, just some sort of creative vanity. The advantage of this approach is that it forces me to find equally interesting story-lines and characters. Erotica is about context – filth is fun, but it only really shines as erotica when the characters and situations are as exciting as the sex.

Sexual Sorcery (sample chapter here http://mysticerotica.com/sexual-sorcery/ – discretion advised, explicit sexual content) provides an example of this.

Sexual Sorcery follows a hapless academic as he searches for a set of stolen books and stumbles into the occult underworld of Victorian London. The situation has plenty of nods to familiar ideas – an apparently respectable but actually sinister gentleman’s club, a manor house out in the wilds lorded over by a charismatic master, the innocent young woman who unexpectedly and dramatically finds that she has voracious sexual appetites… these are all fine parts of a Victorian gothic erotic story. But the trope I’ve ticked off the bucket list is playing with a much older idea.

From the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries, witch hunting manuals claimed that when covens of witches met they would have sex with the devil. It’s a lurid, inelegant idea that today might strike us as ridiculous, but it’s an established part of Western folklore and it works erotically for the same reason that the ritual sex idea does – it’s transgressive, dangerous. The trick then was to take this idea and play with it in a way that kept the sexiness, but lost the rather pantomime crassness, and which worked with the characters in the story.

Not wanting to explain the details (spoilers!), but as the idea developed it became one of the main strands of the plot in Sexual Sorcery.

So, what shall I tick off the list next?

I don’t know, and I can’t know. This can’t be forced. The witch-cult satanic sex idea wasn’t originally intended to be part of Sexual Sorcery. But as the story developed it just seemed a natural fit. Much better to start with a series of possibilities and see which develops its own sense of compelling mystery and sexiness, than to start with an arbitrary idea and cram it into a novel.

But at the moment I’m writing the sequel to Sexual Sorcery. The premise is that, high in the Alps in a remote castle, the Count has invited seven young women for seven nights… you’ve heard that idea before? Of course you have – or something very similar. But the challenge for me is to make sure that, even if you’ve heard the initial idea before, you’ve never read anything like the final novel.

– –

Details and excerpts of the books mentioned above can be found at Mystic Erotica: http://mysticerotica.com/erotic-stories/

Sexual Sorcery is available for Kindle: http://mybook.to/sexualsorcery

*****

GIVEAWAY!

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Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/c-m-fontana/

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Victoria Blisse’s Sexy Vampires Revamped! (@victoriablisse)

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For the month of September Victoria Blisse is the Special Feature Author at Totally Bound. She has recently revamped all three of her Point Vamp books and the next in the series will be out on the 22nd September.

To celebrate these new editions, all the books have sexy new covers and each book has its own special offer. Until the 30th September you can pick up The Point, the first book of the Point Vamp series completely free of charge from Totally Bound.

 

TB_VictoriaBlisse_SpecialEditions_socialmedia_403_0002_finalSeries Blurb:

What is The Point? It is the hottest club in town for both Vampires and humans alike. It has a large dance floor and a bar like any other club but once you disappear behind the VIP only door you find out what makes The Point so unique. Sex, blood and lust all behind closed doors and only accessed by the chosen ones.

Now, you become a chosen one and get to see the sexy world behind that door.

Welcome to The Point.

 

thepoint_revamp_800The Point Blurb:

Love conquers all, that is the point but can it bridge the differences between a vampire and a woman?

Hugh is twenty eight. He has been twenty eight for nearly one hundred years. Hugh is a vampire. He owns a club called The Point and he pays girls to have sex with him. He then counts to ten as he sucks their blood to semi-satisfy his lust.

Elizabeth is a doctor, she loves her job but likes to escape into the countryside now and then. When she twists her ankle Hugh comes to her aid. He carries her curvy form all the way back to his home. He takes care of her ankle and the rest of her body too but he goes too far and sucks her perfectly intoxicating blood.

How can these two lovers have any kind of relationship? They don’t know, only time will reveal the answers.

Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of blood shed.

Publisher’s Note: This book has previously been published under the same title by Totally Bound. It has been expanded, revised and re-edited for re-release.

General Release Date: 1st September 2015

 

Excerpt:

She was a beautiful thing, this girl, all rosy and bright and full of the kind of curves a man could enjoy getting lost in. She would taste fabulous, he could tell. She had a lot of life in her, and if he were to drain her, he’d not need another meal for a month. But no, he must not even think like that. His brows wrinkled as he mentally scolded himself. He did not feed on random girls. No, he only sucked those who wanted to be sucked at the club. No one else, nowhere else. It was the rules. His rules and he would not break them.

He opened the wardrobe and took a moment to steady himself. All of his mother’s clothes hung there, as pristine as they’d always been with only the dust of ages to sully them. He pulled out the first that came to hand, shook it then laid it across his arm. His mother would not mind him using her clothes. She had always been a charitable soul. Thinking about his mother made his heart ache, so he shook his head and purposefully strode down the landing to the stairs.

When he walked back into the warm sitting room, the girl did not look immediately to him. He walked closer and realised as he glanced down that she was sleeping. Her face was peaceful, and he wished he could leave her like that, but she was still a little damp and a lot cold. He would have to disturb her.

“Erm, hello?” he called, and her eyes fluttered open.

“Oh, yes, sorry. I must have dozed off.” She smiled in her disorientation then took the towel he proffered for her use.

“I’m sorry I had to wake you, dear lady, but I do not want you to catch your death of cold.”

He laid the dress down over a single chair close to the fire and went to help her with the towel.

“Oh, gosh, I couldn’t possibly wear that, I mean, it’s antique, isn’t it? It’s like that beautiful dress in the portrait, and I really don’t think I’d fit in it anyway.” She flustered, waving her hands, her cheeks flushed red.

“It will fit you perfectly,” he replied, “and you could not wear any clothes of mine. This is all I have in the way of suitable clothing for a lady. Now we need to get you out of those wet things.” He knelt at her feet and started to untie the one trainer she still had on.

“I can undress myself,” she screeched.

“I know you can, dear woman, but you have a twisted ankle. You cannot do this without aid today. Do not worry for I will not force myself upon you. I will aid you and nothing more.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I know. I’m a little sensitive about anyone seeing me, you know, unclothed. I’m not particularly beautiful with my clothes on, and with them off, I look considerably worse.”

“I cannot believe that is true,” he said. “You are more than pretty as you are.”

He put the trainer to one side and delicately plucked off her sock, gently smoothing his hands down her soft skin. “Do you need help with your top?”

Before she could answer, he stood and reached down to her waist. Her hand hovered just around  her stomach for a moment then she raised her arms. Hugh lifted the clinging, damp material up and over her head.

“What’s your name?” she blurted out. “I mean, you’re undressing me, and I don’t even know who you are.”

“I am Hugh Jacobson,” he replied then picked up the towel and draped it around her shoulders, his gaze concentrated on the luscious mounds of her breasts as he did so. They were like scoops of cold, tempting ice cream in their lacy shells.

“And I’m Elizabeth Chapman,” she said. “Doctor Elizabeth Chapman.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” he said as he rubbed the towel up and down her arms. “Although, I am sorry our meeting was under such circumstances.”

 

Pick up your free copy of The Point at Totally Bound now!

 

victoriablissepenAVBio:

Victoria Blisse is a mother, wife, Christian, Manchester United fan and award winning erotica author. She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, and the co-editor of the fabulous Smut Alfresco, Smut in the City and Smut by the Sea Anthologies.

Victoria is also one of the brains behind the fabulous Smut events, days and nights dedicated to erotica, fun and prizes. Check out http://ilovesmut.uk for more details.

She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories. Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.

You can find often find Victoria procrastinating on Facebook http://facebook.com/victoriablisse, Twitter http://twitter.com/victoriablisse and Pinterest http://pinterest.com/victoriablisse. To find out more check out http://victoriablisse.co.uk.

 

In The Flesh PART 15: Dark Paranormal Romance. Read & Enjoy!

In the Flesh 11880534_1463650103936599_545702979581425574_n
I’m just back from Scotland well and truly inspired to write like the wind. That being said, it’s time for Part 15 of In The Flesh in which Susan learns more of the truth than she wants to know, but not nearly enough to get her out of the mess she’s in.

Read! Enjoy! Spread the word!

In the Flesh  is very dark paranormal erotica. When Susan Innes comes to visit her friend, Annie Rivers, in Chapel House, the deconsecrated church that Annie is renovating into a home, she discovers her outgoing friend changed, reclusive, secretive, and completely enthralled by a mysterious lover, whose presence is always felt, but never seen, a lover whom she claims is god. As her holiday turns into a nightmare, Susan must come to grips with the fact that her friend’s lover is neither imaginary nor is he human, and even worse, he’s turned his wandering eye on Susan, and he won’t be denied his prize. If Susan is to fight an inhuman stalker intent on having her as his own, she’ll need a little inhuman help.

 

 

 

 

To read the story in its entirety up to this point, follow these links to  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4 Part 5Part 6Part 7Part 8Part 9Part 10Part 11Part 12Part 13, Part 14.

 

In The Flesh Part 15

“Susan? Are you all right? You’re shivering and I don’t want you to catch a chill.”

When I came back to myself I still stood naked in front of the mirror. But He was right, I was shivering.

“Darling, you’re frightening me. Please, go to the bed Annie has made up for you and get beneath the duvet and make yourself warm.”

I did as He asked without thinking, though it was fully of my own volition. He was not compelling me in any way I could tell, but the next thing I knew, I was curled in a fetal position in the on the mattress on the floor, the duvet pulled up to my chin, and still I shivered, as I struggled to get my mind round what he’d just said.

He sat next to me. I could feel the weight of Him on the mattress, and I knew He watched me. “Shall I rouse Annie to make you more tea? Perhaps that would help.”

“No. Let her rest.” I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her the way she was now, and I really wasn’t up to another knife confrontation with my best friend. Until I had some plan of action to help her, to get her out of here, it was best to let her sleep.

He made no reply, but lay down next to me and in a moment, I felt his body naked against mine. “Please don’t.” I whispered.

“I only wish to warm you, my darling. I promise I won’t take you until you are ready for me.”

How there could be body heat when there was no flesh to generate it, I didn’t know, but there was, and I couldn’t help snuggling back against Him, doing my best to ignore that He was ready for me, whether I was ready for Him or not. It hit me then, that He was exerting control over himself by not trying to control me. Whatever lust I had for Him was no more than I would have felt for any well-endowed man, who lay next to me when I was under such stress. I knew, He could easily change that. I knew He could make me want Him to the detriment of anything else that could possibly matter. I reminded myself that He hadn’t said if I was ready for Him, but when. I needed, above all else, to remember that. His strategy was to replace Annie with me, and He didn’t necessarily have to force the issue to make that happen. All of those things were in my mind, but the fact that I might have been the one to released a monster into the world just happened to take center stage in my brain, at least for the moment.

“What you said. That can’t possibly be,” I managed between chattering teeth. “How I could have removed the gate and the padlock? I mean I couldn’t have. It isn’t possible. I had no key, I couldn’t have even found my way back to the crypt through that tangle of a garden without Annie’s help, and besides, I … I didn’t know you were there. How could I have known you were there?”

He smoothed the hair away from my temple and kissed me in the spot where my pulse thundered. “Of course you solicited Annie’s help, my darling. She helped you find your way back, but only you could open the gate. Only you could set me free.”

“I didn’t know you were there,” I repeated, my words sounding more like a plea.

“Of course you did, my little Scribe. You sensed me there in the darkness waiting for you, longing for you, and your words breathed hope into me. Don’t you remember your dreams?”

“I … vaguely. But I was drunk and I was only telling stories. Often what I’m writing about or thinking about invades my dream world. I don’t remember you, though, and I don’t remember releasing you.”

“Don’t you?” His hand moved down then to cup my breast and the press of his penis became more urgent against my bottom. “You convinced Annie to help us. Ultimately I could see that your plan was for her to ultimately get us together, you and me.”

“No! That was not my plan! There was no plan. It was only a dream, and I would never use my friend that way. Ever!”

He only kissed my shoulder and spoke quietly as though He were telling me a story. “Of course it was your plan. Annie would be mine. She would stay with me, satisfy me until you could come to me, until you could be mind. That was always our plan, my darling. I always knew that in my heart of hearts.” I felt him shrug. “A figure of speech of course. I have no actual heart, of course.”

“Oh Christ,’ I whispered, fighting back panic. Had I not awakened in both terror and arousal? Hadn’t my last thoughts in the dream world and my first in the waking been that I had opened a door I could not close again?

“This is insane! It was just a dream.” With all the force I could muster, I shoved my way up off the mattress and fled to the bathroom, snatching up my clothes, still on the floor where I’d dropped them. “It was just a fucking dream!” I shouted, sensing His presence behind me as I scrambled into my jeans. “I’m not crazy. I know a dream when I have one.”

“The dreams of a Scribe carry more weight than those of an ordinary mortal, Susan, do you not know this? Has no one told you? I would have certainly thought Michael would have said something, after all that’s what the bitch who owns him wants.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mea? Why would Michael care? He has nothing to do it. I write stories! People pay me for them,” I said buttoning my shirt over my braless breasts while shoving the bra into my bag, “That’s what I do. I don’t live out my dreams! I don’t open doors into strange abysses, and I didn’t release a –”

Before I knew what was happening, He was on me, forcing me back against the sink. The mark on my breast suddenly burned like fire that spread down my torso, and I screamed at the press of him, still naked, still aroused and all hard invisible muscle that bore down on me like a suffocating weight. “What, Susan? You didn’t release a monster, is that what you were about to say? Do you think that you wouldn’t? Do you think that you couldn’t? Are you so naïve as to believe that what’s inside your head, what you put on the written page is any less monstrous, any less dangerous?”

“What else are you but a monster,” I shouted, “hurting me like this, hurting poor Annie who did nothing to deserve it! Nothing! If I’m the one to blame, leave her alone, let her go and –”

I swallowed back my words in a yelp as the floor tilted beneath my feet and the air around me crackled with static and ozone, and my head felt full and tight as though I were suddenly on a train passing through a tunnel at high speed. In my confusion, it took me a second to realize the roar that I thought was a sudden clap of thunder was the sound of His anger, followed by my scream as I found myself flying through the air and landing with a thud on the stone floor. A sharp shockwave raced down my spine and pinwheels of color exploded behind my eyes. For a split second I thought He’d broken my neck, but that was secondary to getting the breath back that he’d knocked out of me. Then, in an instant, the room righted itself and He was gone. I heard Annie scream, as he vanished.

I stumbled to my feet, still barely dressed, lost my footing in a wave of dizziness, and came down hard on one knee, yelling my friend’s name as I shoved through the door and down the hall. “Annie! Hold on, I’m coming. Hold –’ Then the kitchen door burst open, and the breath that I’d only just recovered was knocked out of me again as Michael scooped me up like I was a sack of grain, threw me over his shoulder and was nearly to the gate before I could do more than gasp. “Annie! Annie! I can’t leave, her,” I gasped as he shoved me into the passenger seat of my own car.

“Maggie’s got her! It’s all right! Maggie’s got her and they’re headed for–” I accidentally elbowed him in the chest and he sputtered. “Fuck! How many goddam times are we gonna have to do the great escape routine!” Then he slammed the door shut, cursing as he hopped into the driver’s seat and shoved the key home. I don’t know how the hell he got it, and I didn’t ask as we pulled away from Chapel House like we were being chased by all the demons from Hell, and God knew one of them was fucking bad enough!

I stiff-legged the floorboard and shoved both hands against the dashboard with a sense of deja vu I neither wanted no appreciated. Then, when we’d put a good few blocks between us and that horrible place, I turned on Michael. “He said I set Him free! He said I’m the one who let him loose on the world, let him loose to do this to Annie. He fucking said you knew!”

Michael cursed under his breath, the tension in his body evident still in his suicide grip on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, Susan. I was going to tell you. I said all the time we should tell you right up front so there’d be no surprises, so you’d know what you were up against, but Maggie said not to, Maggie said to wait. She said she had a plan. Some fucking plan!” He ranted, cursing the first born this Maggie would supposedly never have and wished every plague and pestilence he could think of upon her – some I’d never heard of, but I didn’t hear anything after that except for the beating of wings against my ears and the desperate draw of breath into my lungs. It was true. I released Him. How the hell could it be true?

“Susan?” It was the sound of my own name that made me realize the rant was over and Michael was addressing me. “Did you hear me? I’ll explain everything once we’ve reached the rendezvous point, well, Maggie can explain better than I can, but we need to make sure you’re safe first.”

I forced a laugh that was decidedly on the hysterical side, and I really didn’t give a fuck. “Safe? How the hell can you even use that word when He’s out there? And why the hell do you think I’ll actually believe you when you lied to me? You fucking lied to me!” I punched him hard in the arm with my fist, and he responded by trapping my hand against his body, driving with one hand on the wheel and the other holding my wrist away from him, but at such an angle that my arm twisted making any movement uncomfortable. That done, he let me have my rant, the fucker barely breathing hard as I called him every name I could think of, and then threatened him with some seriously creative bodily damage, none of which did he seem concerned about even for one second.

At last he spoke. “Are you finished? Because I need my arm back. A safe driver keeps both hands on the wheel.”

“Safe driving is the least of my concerns at the moment,Michael, and believe me,” I growled, “we’re not anywhere near finished, and I have no intention of dying before I kick you seriously in the balls a few times.”

“Fair enough,” he said, and then he released me.

“Where are we going?” I asked once my temper had cooled enough to remind me that I was scared shitless, exhausted and physically damaged, and if I were going to survive whatever happened next, I would need Michael’s help, whether I liked the plan of action or not.

“There’s a place in Cumbria, up in the fells. Friend of Magda owns it. No one will find us there.”

“And Annie? She’s in really bad shape, and she … she’s not in her right mind.” I swallowed hard thinking that my best friend had tried to kill me, then delivered me right into the mouth of the dragon. But that was forgivable under the circumstances. What was unforgivable was the fact that it seems to have been my actions that put her at risk in the first place.

“She’s in good hands, I promise.” He patted my arm gently. “Maggie will know what to do, and at the moment, we need her safe and out of the equation so he can’t use her against you.”

We turned of the M6 onto the A66 heading toward Keswick with Michael questioning me about what had happened. When I told him of his boss’ visit in the crypt, he unleashed some seriously colorful language and slammed his hand against the steering wheel hard enough to rattle the whole car. “Damn her! We had you safe. We had you away from Him, away from Chapel House. If I’d been awake, I would have known you were walking into a trap. I would have stopped you. We’d have all been safely away by now.”

I gave him a sideways glance. “And what about Annie?”

The muscles along his jaw clenched tight and his shoulders stiffened. “We got her out, didn’t we?’

“But that wasn’t part of the plan, was it?”

“I don’t know what the hell the plan is,” he snapped. “Clearly Maggie’s keeping me as much in the dark as she is you. We’ll have … words, when I see her.”

Before I could respond with some things I’d rather have with this Maggie bitch that were much more physical than words, Michael continued. “You need to sleep now. Alonso … well Alonso is a bit neurotic, though I understand that’s pretty typical of his kind. He doesn’t like people to know where he lives. Took a page from Maggie’s book where that’s concerned. Anyway, I’ll put you to sleep, and when you wake up, we’ll be there.

“Magic? You’ll magic me to sleep?”

He shrugged and I thought I saw a blush crawling up his neck. “I suppose you could call it that. Don’t worry, it’s harmless, but useful at times. God! Only three days ago, I didn’t believe in magic or angels or monsters. Shows what the hell I knew.

When I woke up, the car had stopped. It was dark outside and some unknown man was carrying me like a child.

“I’m not keen on Maggie using High View for her little capers,” the man was saying, his voice a purr of a vibration deep in his chest. I shivered and snuggled close for warmth but felt none.

“I’m not too keen on it either, Alonso, I’d much rather be in my own place where I can pull up the drawbridge, but looks like you drew the short straw this time around.”

I was about to ask what was going on, not that I expected anyone to give me a straight answer, but I fell back to sleep in this Alonso’s arms before I could manage more than a moan.

 

The Eyes of Bast by Lisabet Sarai

TheEyesOfBastCover300

Channeling the Cat

It’s almost a joke – the common association between authors and cats. I haven’t done a systematic survey, but I would estimate that at least 75% of the authors I hosts as blog guests mention feline companions in their bios. I’m no exception. I currently have two cats who traveled with us from the United States to southeast Asia ten years ago, and who have settled in quite comfortably.

Of course, many famous writers were renowned for their close relationships with their felines.  Colette, Papa Hemingway, Jean-Paul Satre, Ray Bradbury… the list goes on and on.  The inspiration for my erotic writing career, Portia da Costa, is a huge cat lover – that’s one of the things that forged a bond between us.

Many explanations have been offered for the feline-author affinity. A cat doesn’t need to be walked, so we can spend our time at our desks as opposed to trucking around on the street scooping up their business. Cats are mysterious creatures with many layers of personality – rather like effective characters. Cats have an elegance and precision of movement we writers might use as a model for our prose. Many authors have cited their felines as sources of inspiration. Noted Canadian writer Robertson Davies once said “Authors like cats because they are such quiet, lovable, wise creatures, and cats like authors for the same reason.”

The other day, I was suddenly struck by a new theory. I was thinking about the fact that so many authors report hearing “voices”. “I just listen to my characters, and write down what they say,” one of my guests commented. Writing sometimes feels like something driven from outside, beyond our conscious control. Well, what if that’s true?

What if it’s not our characters who are dictating the story? What if it’s our cats?

Ridiculous, right? But Mr. Toes sits behind my monitor most days I’m writing. He pretends to be asleep, but if I should get up for a bathroom break or a drink of water, he stirs and gives me a look, as it to say, “Where are you going? The story’s not done yet!”

I grew up with cats. I grew up writing fiction. When I went off to college and then grad school, I left the felines behind, and although I wrote lots of poetry during that period, I didn’t pen a single story. Then I met my husband, a confirmed ailurophile, and filled my life with felines once more. Next thing you know, I was a published author.

Ever tried to write when your cat was sick? Tough to concentrate on the tale, isn’t it?

And wouldn’t this explain why our characters are larger than life? Why they have so much vitality, such powerful passions, such intense adventures? How could a mere human imagine such creatures? Cats, though – they have superhuman abilities. Just ask them.

Of course to really test this, we’d all have to get rid of our felines and then see if we could still write.

That might be informative. It might restore our self-respect. But it’s simply too painful to contemplate.

If I’m channeling my cats, I’m okay with that. As long as they don’t want their names on the cover.

Meanwhile, I’ve finally written a story in which a cat has center stage. The Eyes of Bast is a shifter tale with a difference. Read on to learn more.

Blurb

Trust your heart. Follow your dreams.

Shaina Williams’ grandmother bequeathed her that wisdom, along with a old pendant from the Islands, carved from an ocelot’s tooth. When instinct tells Shaina to visit the feral cat trap she’d set in Central Park, she listens to that inner voice, She discovers she’s caged a magnificent black tom, but the cat inexplicably vanishes after she tends to his wounds. Seeking the errant feline, Shaina encounters instead a handsome stranger whose slightest touch sets her body on fire. As the day dawns after a night of ferocious passion, her mysterious lover is forced back into his true shape – the tomcat she’d rescued.

Born a cat, Tom was transformed into an unwilling shape shifter by a sorceress who craved a human plaything to satisfy her perverse lusts. Centuries old and irresistibly powerful, Delphine Montserrat will stop at nothing to find her runaway familiar. Shaina vows to do whatever is necessary to defeat the vicious but seductive witch and save the man she believes is her soul mate – even though it might mean losing him forever.

Buy Links:

Totally BoundAll Romance Ebooks | Amazon USAmazon UKBarnes & Noble | Kobo

Add on GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25153711-the-eyes-of-bast

Check out my exclusive interview about the book at Totally Bound!

https://www.totallybound.com/the-eyes-of-bast-exclusive

 

 

Excerpt:

It was near dawn when I woke again. In the pearl-gray light filtering through the blinds, my familiar furnishings were strange and ghostly, shrouded in shadow. Stretching, I realized I was no longer on the floor. My bed had been unfolded, and I lay stretched out on the sheets, nude. Alone.

Groggy with sleep, I raised myself on my elbows to scan the room. It appeared to be empty. “Tom?” I whispered. There was no answer. A sense of unreality seized me. Had I dreamed the entire scene – the handsome intruder, the overwhelmingly sensual kiss, the orgasm that had shot me straight into the stratosphere? I recalled my devastating arousal in the stranger’s presence. What was going on? Could I be suffering from some kind of hormonal imbalance? This seemed like something more than the normal horniness of a woman who’d been celibate for a while.

Thinking exhausted me. I sank back into my pillow, closing my eyes as if that might make my doubts and confusion vanish. Sleep, I told myself. Ill figure things out in the morning. I was already drifting back into slumber when the sound of running water roused me.

I peered into the dimness. A tall, male form emerged from the bathroom. My heart did a somersault in my chest.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

His low, musical voice melted me. I propped myself up to a sitting position, heedless of my nakedness.

“You! You’re real…You’re still here?”

He’d discarded his clothing as well. In the half-light, I drank in the sight of his smooth, muscled limbs, becoming more intoxicated by the moment. He seated himself beside me and circled me with his arms. Heat radiated from his dark skin.

“Why would I leave, my beautiful one?” he murmured in my ear. Bending a bit, he flicked his tongue across one of my nipples. Lightning tore through me. “There are still a few hours left to the night.”

Before I could reply, he’d fastened his luscious mouth on mine. His firm lips coaxed rather than demanded a response, one I was only too willing to give. I opened to the prodding of his rough tongue, letting him taste me, savoring his wild, sweet flavor in return.

Once again a sort of delirium swept over me. It seemed we were back in the park, sheltered by trees more than a century old. My nostrils filled with the perfume of dew-soaked grass and damp earth, laced with a hint of animal musk. I felt light as dandelion down, drifting in the night wind. Only his strong grip kept me grounded. The moon rode above the clouds, invisible but palpable, stirring tides in my flesh. Desire ebbed then surged, cresting higher with each cycle.

His hands molded my breasts like moist clay. Blind with need, I groped along his furred chest and taut belly, down to his gloriously erect cock. When I squeezed, he moaned into my mouth and bit the corner of my lip. The iron-tinged flavor of my own blood simply added to the stew of sensation.

I smeared my thumb over the slippery bulb. His answer was a savage twist to an already aching nipple. Moisture gushed from my pussy. I tumbled backward, dragging him down on top of me.

“Shaina…” he murmured, breaking the kiss to lick his way along my throat. His saliva felt like liquid fire. He nuzzled in the hollow of my cleavage, then captured one breast and began to suckle. Electric pleasure arced through me when his hardness brushed my inner thigh. I squirmed beneath him, trying to align his cock with my hungry cleft.

“Please….” There was no need for me to say more. The stranger rose above me, supporting himself on his powerful arms. His eyes gleamed like phosphorescent jewels in the grayness. He smiled down at me, baring those sharp, white teeth that had already drawn my blood. An almost inhuman glee painted his features.

He hovered at my entrance, his rigid flesh teasing my engorged clit. I spread my thighs wide. Without a word, he sank his cock deep into my drenched pussy.

 

About the Author

When I was a little girl, my dad would make up stories for my siblings and me, fabulous sagas about ghosts and monsters, magical races with mysterious powers, heroes on impossible quests, hidden treasures awaiting only the most courageous seeker. I blame him for my lifelong fascination with the magical and miraculous.

Now that I’m grown up, I create my own tales of wonder, weaving in generous portions of human desire with its potent enchantments. In my paranormal tales, love works the most powerful magick.

Find out more about me and my books at my website, Lisabet’s Fantasy Factory (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) and my blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com). I also hang out on Goodreads (http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/83387.Lisabet_Sarai) and Amazon (https://www.amazon.com/author/lisabetsarai).  I also have a VIP readers email list where I share release and contest information and run exclusive monthly giveaways. To join, just email me: lisabet [at] lisabetsarai [dot] com.

 

Last Day! Body Temperature and Rising FREE!

Lakeland Witches 1 BTRFebruary 28th! It’s here! The last day to get your FREE copy of Body Temperature and Rising, book 1 of The Lakeland Witches Trilogy. If you like sizzling, chilling paranormal erotic romance, look no further. Nab BTR for free and enjoy!

 

Book one of the Lakeland Witches trilogy (Click here for: Book Two | Book Three)

American transplant to the Lake District, MARIE WARREN, didn’t know she could unleash demons and enflesh ghosts until a voyeuristic encounter on the fells ends in sex with the charming ghost, ANDERSON, and night visits from a demon. To help her cope with her embarrassing and dangerous new abilities, Anderson brings her to the ELEMENTALS, a coven of witches who practice rare sex magic that temporarily allows needy ghosts access to the pleasures of the flesh.

DEACON, the demon Marie has unleashed, holds an ancient grudge against TARA STONE, coven high priestess, and will stop at nothing to destroy all she holds dear. Marie and her landlord, the reluctant young farmer, TIM MERIWETHER, are at the top of his list. Marie and Tim must learn to wield coven magic and the numinous power of their lust to stop Deacon’s bloody rampage before the coven is torn apart and more innocent people die.


Excerpt:

The image of a dark figure approaching her through the fog tightened her belly and her nipples, and yet at the same time sent shards of ice down her back. It was a dream, she told herself. Surely it had to be, as she gathered herself to run.

It was a gentle touch of her arm that woke her with a start, and she looked up into the dark eyes of Anderson. ‘Come with me, out of the rain.’ He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet. She was amazed to find that he was still in the black suit, no anorak, no water proofs, no proper walking boots.

‘I lost my compass,’ she said.

‘I’m very sorry to hear that,’ he replied.

Almost before she knew it they were descending. ‘Don’t worry,’ he spoke close to Marie’s ear. ‘I know the fells like I’ve lived here forever.’ Once we get to Grange, Tara will be waiting for us.’

He made no attempt to explain who Tara was, nor did he introduce himself. That was her first clue that he might have been aware of her voyeuristic escapade.

‘We’ll be down before you know it,’ he added, turning his face into the storm.

But they weren’t. The weather worsened to a downpour. Bent double in the wind, Marie was soaked to the skin and shivering by the time Anderson pulled her into a cave that she hadn’t even seen until they were safe inside.

‘We’ll wait it out here,’ he said. He offered her a smile and gestured around the cave. ‘There are lots of caves and quarries around the Lake district. Some are fenced off for the protection of curious tourists, and others, like this one, most people don’t know about.’

‘And your girl friend, won’t she be worried?’

The tolerant smile he offered made her aware of her mistake. ‘Tara knows what I would do in such weather.’ Then he added, ‘Though she’s very dear to me, Tara’s not my girlfriend.’

Before she could say anything he chuckled softly. ‘I know that you saw us together, and there’s no need to apologize. Neither of us was upset that you enjoyed our love making. In fact we rather hoped it would please you. Besides one must certainly expect such encounters when one chooses the middle of a well-traveled path for a rendezvous. Now remove your shirt for me, please.’

When she balked, he added. ‘You’re cold and wet. I only wish to make you more comfortable and prevent you catching your death.’ He had already shed his jacket and handed it to her. She was astonished to find it completely dry. ‘You may wear this.’

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What the Reviews Say about Body Temperature and Rising!

“I am a huge fan of K.D. Grace’s explicit, well-crafted writing (I’ve selected and published her work in multi-author “Best” collections), and this novel did not disappoint me. It’s the first of a hardcore paranormal trilogy, and many readers think it is her best work to date.” Violet Blue

*****

“Body Temperature and Rising is my favourite of K D Grace’s books so far… So if you’re looking for a well-written, pacy and smokin’ hot paranormal romp, I’d point you towards this book. One warning, though. As soon as you’ve read it, you’ll want to read the next book immediately. I know I do!” 5 out of 5, Erotica For All

*****

BTR_teaser“This is powerful, sexy writing from the extremely competent K D Grace. The story contains a compelling narrative. And all of it is set in the most beautiful scenery in the natural world. You really will love this book.” Erotica Readers & Writers Association

 

*****

“This well-written, full-length erotic novel comes from the pen of well-established writer K. D. Grace… easily one of the best books I’ve read!” Jade Magazine

*****

“For the love of all things steamy, this is one HOT read. Steamy, sexy and some other words that start with S and mean hot things, Body Temperature and Rising is definitely a wild ride. If you don’t like the sexy, stay out of the sex coven.” Reading the Paranormal

*****

“Crossing my fingers that there is more to come in this series and soon! Body Temperature and Rising is steamy hot with an involved plot. Definitely give this paranormal erotica a try!” BookingIt

*****

“Let me just say wow. The book is gripping and so erotic I lost my breath at times. It was an erotic treat and I enjoyed every second of it. While it is full of sex and damsels in distress it was a delicious read.” Books-n-Kisses

 

*****

“This full length paranormal and erotic novel had me gripped from beginning to end… This beautifully written novel and a great mix of good plot and steaminess makes this a great start to the trilogy… Warning; make sure you have hours to spare as you can’t put this book down.” Midnight Boudoir

 

 

 
© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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