Tag Archives: the story behind the story

Dianna Hardy Shares the Story Behind The Witching Pen Novellas

It’s my pleasure to welcome the delicious Dianna Hardy to A Hopeful Romantic today to share with us the story behind her exciting Witching Pen novellas.

Book One: The Witching Pen

Book Two: The Sands of Time

Book Three: The Demon Bride

It started with a domain name. Yes, seriously: thewitchingpen.co.uk

That’s how it began. I bought it three years ago when I was publishing my first ever book (in paperback – I knew nothing of eBooks then): a collection of poetry that I had spent my life writing sporadically.

I knew poetry wasn’t going to be all that I wrote, so I wanted a domain name that I could use for my website that would be flexible enough to encompass other genres, including the spiritual / occult books that I occasionally bring out.

As the months went on, I began to write erotic fiction. (That’s how I discovered eBooks.) That developed into paranormal romance, which in turn included hot urban fantasies… and now I truly am multi-genre, because, for the life of me, I can’t choose just one genre – I need to write anything I please at any given time!

DiannaHardy.com became my domain name, and thewitchingpen.co.uk became defunct.

But I liked that domain name – I couldn’t just give it up! And suddenly, just like that, the idea for The Witching Pen fell into my lap; out of the sky, or so it seemed. What if you really did own a pen that was witchy and magical, and that pen could do great things? What if it was mightier than the sword? Would you use it for good or for bad?

I had the plot, now I needed characters. I had the idea of a very strong, street-smart heroine wielding this pen to start with, but it didn’t work – not at all. And as I wrote her, within the first chapter, she morphed into this sweet, kind and innocent witch, who could appear meek to those who didn’t know her well, but who carried unrivalled power through her bloodline, and, unbeknownst to her, through a pen she happens to find one day: The Witching Pen.

Enter her best friend, Karl, the boy next door who she’s always loved – who has always loved her – who she can never be with because of a ‘curse’ that ensures she will lose her powers to any man she ever sleeps with … My God! I had book one! I had a paranormal romance.

From that point, the writing took on a life of its own, the characters became … real … (almost) and I never looked back. Books two and three tumbled out of me; sometimes with ease and sometimes through sweating blood and tears. But that is the nature of this series: it is easy, but hard; it is light, but dark; it is trust and betrayal; it is a test of the self.

In short: The Witching Pen began as a domain name intended to represent me and my writing, but it became a paranormal romance series that tested me and my writing; tested it in wonderful, beautiful and torturous ways. It truly is magical to me, how one can start with just a word; just a sentence … and it grows, and grows, and a year later, you have a trilogy that – thank God – most readers so far have fallen in love with.

To me, The Witching Pen will always be just that: a tool that somehow weaves magic with words. And I don’t always know if I’m the magician, or just the observer.

The Witching Pen Novellas are available in digital format, with the first trade paperback having been released in April. All info and buy links can be found on the series website The Witching Pen Novellas.

 Thanks so much to K D Grace for taking the time to host me on her blog.

 Book Promo Spotlight: The Demon Bride, by Dianna Hardy

The Demon Bride (Book Three of The Witching Pen Novellas)

Preceded by Book One and Book Two.

Two thousand and eleven years after the birth of the Failed One, the Witching Pen will be made manifest on Earth by the Great Shanka Witch of the Old Scrolls. By her hand, the Earth will rumble and shatter, and all dimensions will bleed into one.

The true purpose of the Witching Pen has been revealed, and it must be destroyed before an apocalyptic prophecy comes true. There’s just one problem — the Pen is indestructible.

As everyone searches for much needed answers, Elena lays down plans for a radical mission to save her mother from the Shanka’s shadow world.

Meanwhile, Mary has finally discovered who she really is, and what that means for the human race.

What Mary doesn’t know, is that Gwain has been searching for her for over ten thousand years, and had lost all hope of finding her. Now that he has her, he’s faced with an impossible choice: does he save the woman who altered his very existence, or does he sacrifice her to save mankind?

eBook available NOW!

Amazon US   Amazon UK   Smashwords

View the whole series at the series website.

EXCERPT

Prologue

Her fingernails dug into his wrist, as her scream pierced the air.

“God damn it!” he cursed. “Don’t you let go of me – don’t let go!”

But this was a battle they were both losing. The pulsing abyss beneath her was relentless, swallowing everything too close to it, like some ominous, living black hole, and she was more than too close to it – she was dangling above it, her feet touching the hungry darkness.

Terror gripped her – an unforgiving fear she’d never known, and she’d known a lot of fear.

For a second, exhaustion took her over, and her fingers slipped a little.

“No!” he shouted, and squeezed his hand in a tighter vice around her wrist. His other hand – the left one – was buried in the earth. He had pegged himself into it in an attempt to stop their forward movement. He had his legs entwined around a tree trunk, but the tree was now coming up at the roots, bowing to the force of the suction. Every muscle in his body was straining, bulging unnaturally – she wondered if he’d ripped any yet. Hell, he was strong – but not strong enough.

She looked up, forcing her head to move against the pull of the abyss, and met his eyes. Steely grey, and usually so steady, they were now marred with panic and anger. But still he held her gaze, and still – despite the horror of what was about to happen – she found a semblance of peace within his presence.

“Let me go,” she whispered.

Her answer was a tenacious growl.

“It’ll pull you in if you don’t. It doesn’t want you, it wants me. Let me go.”

He tightened his hold on her.

Damn it! She won’t risk him. Not now, not ever.

She spoke to him in the Old Tongue. “I’m not supposed to be here – it was always going to be this way.”

Determination hardened his features.

My God, he’s stubborn.

“I love you,” she whispered, and let the truth of her words touch him, seep into him, through the all-consuming connection they shared – one which she suspected was about to be ripped to shreds.

He was momentarily stunned at the weight behind her words. She had him off-guard, and in that split second, with a strength she didn’t know she possessed, she brought her left hand up, fighting against the vacuum with all she had, and tore into his cheek with her nails.

Startled, his grip loosened, and it was enough.

She yanked her right hand out of his.

His look of shock quickly turned to one of both rage and desperation when he finally realised what she’d done.

Blood seeped through the cuts on his cheeks. Her own face stung in response.

“Forgive me,” she pleaded. “You mean too much to me.”

Tears welled in his eyes.Tears? Oh, no, m’angeal, don’t cry. I’m not worth your tears.

“I’ll find you, I swear it,” he choked out.As the abyss closed up around her, she uttered a prayer, and she had no idea whether she was praying that he would, or that he wouldn’t.

Chapter One

Mary jolted awake, then moaned as the pounding in her head dominated all her senses. A nightmare? No. This pounding felt like normal pain – the kind you had when you hit your head, not the type of pain that seared her during her nightmares.

What had woken her up? A dream? But she didn’t have dreams – not normal dreams, anyway…

She tried to grasp at it and failed, the throbbing in her skull preventing her from going in too deep.

And she was hot – too hot – baking hot.

Where the fuck am I?

And far too quickly, she remembered her encounter with the monster in the prison, and being dropped into the hole in the ground. A portal of some kind? The memories rushed at her – they came so quickly, she thought she might puke. Ugh. She remembered being thrown down and cracking her head on the cement.
Shit. She hoped she didn’t have concussion.

Gingerly, she tried to move and realised that something was crusted onto the left side of her face, which smarted big time – she guessed it was her blood. Her face felt mangled. She must have done it when she’d cracked her head. A glance down at herself told her she was naked. That meant she’d been undressed.

Fuck.

She mentally assessed her body, trying to figure out if she’d been messed with in any way. It felt the same as usual, apart from her arms. Looking up with effort, she could see that her hands were tightly secured above her head in metal cuffs, each attached to a stone wall by short, linked chains.

She gave her hands a little wriggle. Pins and needles shot down to her elbows, which ached. She winced. Could this be any worse?

“She awakes,” came a voice, low and soft, to her right.

It just got worse.

Excerpt copyright © Dianna Hardy, 2012. All rights reserved.

Dianna Hardy is a multi-genre author of paranormal things, dark things, poetic things, sexy things, taboo things, and sometimes funny things.She writes about witches, demons and angels. All info about her books can be found on her website DiannaHardy.com

Madeline Moore’s Long Journey to Pretty as a Porn Star

It’s my pleasure to welcome the marvellous Madeline Moore to A Hopeful Romantic today to talk the long road to completion of her exciting new petite novel, Pretty as a Porn Star, and the long road to getting there.

Hi KD and faithful followers of The Story Behind the Story.

Now, you might think the process of taking a book called Pretty As A Porn Star from conception to completion would be quick and easy. But this particular project took years to come to fruition. We have to go back, way back, to 2009.

My novel, Sarah’s Education, was about to be published by the Virgin imprint Black Lace when Random House purchased the parent company. I was now a Black Lace/Virgin/Random House author.

It was high time to start working on my next novel proposal. I’d read a piece in Scarlet Magazine about an ordinary housewife who purchased a strap-on dildo and was instantly transformed into a man-slamming Dominatrix.

In no time, she had quite a collection of videos. The budding porn star convinced her admirably accepting husband to quit his job and help her launch a porn site. At the time of the story, they were making love, making movies, and making money.

The editor of Black Lace, Adam Nevill, and I were batting the concept back and forth when the axe fell. Sarah’s Education was one of the last Black Lace novels to be published.

Some of you may know that I live with Felix Baron, author of Nexus novels like Sweet as Sin and (my favourite) The Persian Girl. Naturally I collapsed with the vapours. We were doomed!

Maxim Jakubowski began discussions with Felix about an offer the publishing house John Blake had made to him: a limited number of crime novels to be published under the Imprint MaxCrime. We pitched an outline and landed a contract. It was fun. Instead of counting sheep to get to sleep at night, I began a body count that included the injured and the dead. I believe the total was 17.

MaxCrime granted us a reprieve that lasted just long enough for our ex-editor Adam Nevill to invite us to join him in a new, digital-only Imprint from the publisher Harper-Collins. Felix and I fumbled at our keyboards, each eager to be the first to say “Yes.”

We were new to digital but we’d read that e-readers like novellas, so we decided we’d each do a petite novel for Mischief.

I had a short story to toss into The Swap and the PAAPS idea (not my favourite acronym ever, although possibly my favourite title) on file. Somewhere it had morphed into the story of film students making money shooting personal videos for select clients.

Adam and I batted PAAPS around some more, tossing Felix the occasional hard ball (Gee, there’s something I never thought I’d type) and it became the love story of Emily and Luke, two film students struggling through their final year of University and wondering, ‘What’s next?’

This is the first time my main characters are madly in love as the story begins. They need to be to survive the experience of spearheading a porn production company comprised above and below the line entirely by students. (Above and below the line is film speak. It means: Executive Producer, Producers, Director, Writer, and Talent – Above the line.

First Assistant Director, Second, Camera, Sound and Crew – Below the line.)

Now why would a gang of film students suddenly start making porn at the end of their tenure in the great halls of academia? Hmm. Because their fees go up, of course!

And there you have it. Three years later, the phoenix that rose from the fire, Madeline Moore’s petite novel Pretty As A Porn Star.

In this excerpt sweet li’l Emily has evolved into a barking Executive Producer for whom the bottom line is product and profit. Luke, up until recently a sensitive film director, has reluctantly helped secure a cougar for a future shoot and is now pressed into service when Emily orders him and Paul to haul ass down to the student demonstration. Marion, Luke’s ex-Friend-with-Benefits, has just phoned in an order to shoot a public fuck for public consumption.

Excerpt:

Luke and Paul stopped at the edge of the crowd. The cacophony of voices, some amplified by megaphones in the classic call-and-response that invited the agitated students to chant in unison, was almost overwhelming.

‘One, Two, Three, Four. We can’t afford to pay no more!’

A police whistle blew and a rowdy protester was captured by cops. The crowd roared its disapproval.

Luke raised the camera. ‘Marion was right about this. It’s wild.’ He shot the protester, who had gone limp, being dragged off to a police van. ‘Don’t get caught, man. I think fucking in a public place might be against the law.’

‘I’m not going be doing any Marion-fucking, my friend.’

‘Huh?’

Paul shook his head. ‘I’m on her no-fly zone. It’s in our files.’

‘Fuck. Emily doesn’t even look at the files anymore. She just tells everyone what she wants and expects them to hop to it. Goddam it!’

‘Sorry man. So, I shoot, you fuck.’

Luke made a split second decision. ‘OK. Here.’ He handed Paul the camera. ‘It’ll be fast and dirty. I’m gonna make a beeline for that sexy bitch and she sure as hell better have her panties off when I get there.’

Paul steadied the camera on his shoulder. ‘At least there’s a lot of press here.’

‘Yeah, maybe if we’re real lucky we’ll make the six o’clock news.’ Luke glowered.

‘I mean I’ll blend right in. I hope.’ Paul flashed Luke another grin. ‘Ready?’

‘I’m more than ready. Stay close, dude. I’m gonna fuck her up the ass until she passes out from pleasure.’

‘Whoa! I’m right behind you! Rolling!’

Luke started through the crowd. His blood was boiling. Little Emily who couldn’t take more than a pinkie up her bum without crying like a Vestal fucking virgin had whored him out again. Without so much as a ‘would you mind, Luke?’

‘Sorry,’ he muttered as he trod on someone’s foot. ‘Man on a mission.’

As a matter of fact, Luke didn’t mind at all. He hadn’t had anal sex since he’d given up fucking for making love with someone so sweet he’d thought he could live without a butt fuck for the rest of his life, if he had to. But ‘sweet’ no longer described Emily. So, if she wasn’t willing to give a man what a man wants, a man, a real man, would get it somewhere else.

The thought of sinking his dick into Marion’s eager asshole was so enticing he was practically running. Paul had better keep up because he sure as hell wasn’t slowing down.

She was easy to spot. Her hennaed head of riotous curls stood out even in a crowd as large and rowdy as this one. Just as she’d said, she was pressed up against the barricade, chanting along with the rest of the crowd. She’d be singing a different tune in a couple of minutes.

Marion didn’t so much as look to see who it was that suddenly grabbed her from behind. She just tilted her ass back, inviting ‘a stranger’ to do whatever he wanted.

He unzipped his pants and flipped up her full, short skirt, exposing her bare ass for a flash. Luke gripped his dick, dipped his knees and jammed his raging hard-on up her ass. No fuss, no muss.

Marion gasped. She froze, both hands gripping the barricade to keep her balance as her assailant rammed the full length of his rod inside her.

‘Atta girl,’ he whispered. ‘Take my great big dick up your ass like the anal slut you are.’

‘What the hell!’ Marion enunciated as best she could, given the circumstances. Obviously, she was doing her part to make sure their dialogue didn’t get lost in the roar of the crowd. ‘Who the fuck are you?’

‘None of your business.’ Luke, taking his cue from Marion, spoke as clearly as he could and as loudly as he dared. ‘What the fuck difference does it make, bitch? I’ve got what you want. Admit it.’

He pushed harder, jamming her up against the barricade and burying his dick another quarter inch inside her.

‘I want it!’

She knew who it was. He was sure of it. Luke’s memory was flooded with images of Marion and him fucking each other’s brains out. It’d been so easy. So goddam fucking easy. And so much fucking fun.

‘Diddle your clit if you want to come because I don’t give a fuck if you do or not.’

One of Marion’s hands dropped from the barricade. She wriggled it down between the barricade and her body and slid it under the hem of her skirt. She swayed a little.

Now that Luke was inside her both hands were free. He kept one on her shoulder and grabbed the railing of the barricade with the other.

‘Christ,’ he hissed.

‘What the hell?’ A shocked voice let him know they’d been spotted. No time to waste.

‘Hey!’ This voice came from the other side of the barricade. The cops would be on him in a moment. He didn’t care. If they tried to drag him off he’d drag her with him. They’d have to hose the two of them down to separate them now.

Marion moaned. ‘Oh my God . . . ’

Luke fucked her hard and fast. It was heaven to be inside her tight, hot little asshole. It was . . . it was . . . almost too much . . .

‘Fuck!’ The first spurt of come seemed to be sucked from his whole body, from his firmly planted feet to the top of his head.

She whimpered. ‘I’m gonna come. Don’t stop. Please . . . I’m coming right fucking now!’

Her cunt contracted so violently her tunnel squeezed the length of his prick and he spurted again and again and again and again . . .

Luke sunk his teeth into the back of her neck, like a mutt claiming its bitch. It was the only way he could keep from howling.

‘Po po,’ muttered a voice behind him. Right. Paul.

Here came the long arm of the law.

But it didn’t matter. Luke was done. He pulled out, zipped up and took off. He didn’t know if Paul was behind him or had kept his camera on Marion. He didn’t know and he didn’t care. At the moment, he didn’t even care if Marion was getting lost in the crowd or dragged off to the cop van. He was free and that’s all that really mattered.

Free.

* As of this writing Black Lace is back and Mischief is thriving. Madeline Moore eagerly anticipates a bidding war between Random House and Harper-Collins for her upcoming novel, Vanilla Valentine. She also eagerly awaits Santa Claus. Not necessarily in that order.

** For those who care, this essay (excerpt excepted) is written in Canadian English.

Buy Pretty As A Porn Star:

http://www.mischiefbooks.com/  (I’m on the front page! Go now!)

http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=node%3D341689031&field-keywords=pretty+as+a+porn+star&x=0&y=0

Coming soon to Amazon.com and Amazon.ca but if you need something to tide you over, you can buy Felix Baron’s petite novel Look At Me! at Amazon’s Kindle store. Just search for Mischief Erotica and scroll through the titles. The gang’s all here!

Visit my blog and blow my mind:

http://moremadelinemoore.blogspot.ca/

Find me on Facebook:

http://www.facebook.com/madeline.moore.906

Tweet me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/MsMadelineMoore

Or, you know, just leave a comment here! Thanks KD! You’re a gracious hostess, indeed.

Xoxo Mad

Madeline Moore writes contemporary, paranormal and fantasy erotica. In another guise she has co-authored one crime novel and is a produced screenwriter. Madeline is Felix Baron’s fiancée!

Kristal Baird on Her Novella, PA Expose

The Story Behind The Story

It’s my pleasure to welcome the fabulous Kristal Baird to my site today. This is Kristal’s first time on A Hopeful Romantic. She’s here to tell us the story behind her hot new novella, PA Exposé.

Hello there, Kd. I’m so thrilled that you’ve invited me over to share the origins of my full-length novel, PA Exposé, with your wonderful readers. It’s truly lovely to get a chance to connect with so many interesting people.

There wasn’t one particular thing that sparked off the plot. Rather, it was several current events that led to the creation of individual characters. Once they existed, I had to get these people interacting. My whirlwind of a mind started gathering storm clouds until hopefully I got a tornado of a story (what did I say about current events?).

I will explain how the three main characters came to life:

One long-running real-life drama going on, has criticised newspaper media. Management and reporters of a global news organisation were allegedly engaged in illegal and immoral practices, such as phone hacking, to get news stories. This got me thinking about the type of newspaper magnates that might condone or resort to underhand activities, and so my heroine’s newspaper boss – Joe Mathers – was born. He is a rogue who has taken a fancy to his young intern, Cally Hammond. Of course, she wants nothing to do with him. Joe is rotten enough to hire my hero, Jake Stone, to train her into submission.

Now Jake is a bit of an enigma. His character developed after reading about Special Forces operatives, working recently in dangerous war zones. I always wondered what most of these guys do with their “transferable skills” after leaving the forces. Some have gone on to become successful writers and media presenters in their own right: Chris Ryan, Andy McNab and Bear Grylls, to name but a few. But the rest?

Well ex-Special Forces, Jake Stone, is a tough, determined, dominant male who uses his training to provide a different sort of specialist service – training submissives!! As a tribute to this year’s Olympics [London 2012] – I made him a bit athletic too…

What Jake doesn’t realise is that he needs a good woman permanently in his life.

Enter Cally (stage left).

Part of her existence arose from my personal knowledge of a young woman who has just spent a year doing an internship for a magazine publisher. I was amazed at all the things this woman was expected to do, for no payment whatsoever, simply to get the experience she required, to enable her to get a paid job eventually. Opportunity? Exploitation?

Cally is equally dedicated to her future career and goes undercover to expose businessman Jake Stone (unaware it is a ruse, concocted by her boss). She is as determined as Jake to get what she wants.

Cue: fireworks!

Of course, the novel has clear submission themes and this is where my blogging buddies have helped me out. Many people live the BDSM lifestyle and they are all very unique. Their shared experiences have helped me to develop Jake’s and Cally’s own Dominant/Submissive sides. They were meant to be together.  However, their equal resolve to get their own job done, gets in the way of this happening.

So, you see, the story really started with the characters. They all want something from each other. It’s not what they think, though! Now I believe it’s high time you patient people got a peek at what they all got up to.

Blurb – PA Exposé

Aspiring journalist, Cally Hammond, believes she is undercover to expose dominating company executive, Jake Stone. However, she has been duped by her real boss, into undergoing training to become sexually submissive.

Jake is an enthusiastic master who exposes Cally to bondage, correction, and submission to his will. The shocking experience re-awakens a dormant side of Cally’s personality which Jake can’t help reacting to.

But both have a mission to fulfil. Will they succeed, and what secrets will be exposed in the process?

 

Available from:

http://www.amazon.com/PA-Expose-submission-Romance-ebook/dp/B008LWR7AU/ref=sr_1_10?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1342527976&sr=1-10&keywords=PA+Expose

http://www.amazon.co.uk/PA-Expose-submission-Romance-ebook/dp/B008LWR7AU/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_1

http://www.xcitebooks.co.uk/Book/1265/7714/PA-Expose.html

*****

Excerpt – PA Exposé – this is where Cally arrives for her ‘job interview’ with Jake:

Cally pushed through the double glass doors which whooshed briskly closed behind her and passed an unmanned reception desk. Jake Stone’s name was clearly outlined on a plaque on his door – he loved his gold plaques – so she knocked sharply and entered.

Sitting across the room, behind a huge mahogany desk, was a man. Not an older man, like Mathers. About mid-30s. Not an ugly man either. Rather gorgeous, actually. Her heart skipped a beat. And she was still only looking at the top of his head. Thick, dark hair, short, well groomed. He hadn’t even looked up yet.

She cleared her throat. ‘I did knock,’ she explained.

He failed to acknowledge her. Cally began to feel a little uncomfortable. She wanted to fill the silence that grew around her while he continued to read the papers in a folder on his desk. ‘Shall I wait outside?’

Her left her standing there feeling more and more awkward.

Cally tried to make the decision for him. ‘I can see you’re busy.’ Geez, the least he could do was say something. Anything. ‘I’ll wait outside.’

She got to the door. Just as she opened it to leave, he spoke. ‘Shut the door.’

She presumed he meant behind her and tried to slip through the opening.

‘How dare you enter my office without permission?’ His tone was cool, modulated. Dangerous. Sexy as hell.

‘I’m sorry –’

‘I have not given you permission to speak.’

Cally was startled. She had never been addressed that way in her life. Even by Mathers. She wanted to tell him to drop dead, but the words hung on her lips.

He had the sexiest pair of deep brown eyes she had ever seen in her life, and they were looking straight through her. And she wanted the job. The other one. She knew what she had to do to get it.

‘Sorry,’ she repeated. Her heart pounded.

‘Let’s get the first lesson out of the way, Miss Hammond,’ he said, rising. ‘You speak when I say you can and not until then. Are we clear?’

She was just about to affirm verbally when his raised eyebrows, stopped her. She closed her open mouth.

‘Good.’ He rose and paced slowly toward her. ‘Learn to please me quickly. I expect no less from my personal assistant than that she pleases me.’

Cally swallowed down the lump that was building nervously in her throat, choking off her breathing, as he towered over her. The way he said pleases left her in no doubt as to what he was alluding. Sex. Everything about Jake Stone screamed sex. Hot, hard, and his way. No wonder his PAs didn’t last too long.

‘In everything,’ he added, cranking up the tension. Hers.

The tone of his last remark, no less than the remark itself, had Cally wishing she could bolt for the door. But he had circled around her like a seasoned predator and was standing between her and her only means of escape. She stepped into the room a little more to widen the gap between them.

‘Stand still!’ he commanded. ‘I have not given you permission to move.’

The sound reverberated in her ears, over and over. He left the remark hanging for at least a minute, in which Cally’s heart started to thump seriously now in her chest. Slow and heavy and deadly.

‘Lesson two,’ he announced. ‘You don’t speak without my permission and you will stand in one place all day, unless I give you my permission to move.’

Cally was as still as a bronze sculpture.

‘Is that clear?’ Each word was ground out, easy, his mouth so close to her ear she could feel his hot breath waft the long, blonde hairs at her temple and shiver over her skin.

What was she to do? Answer him? Say nothing? Her head began to spin with the complexity of it. This wasn’t what she was expecting at all.

He waited, standing behind her, which increased her anxiety, as she wasn’t allowed to turn around to watch what he was doing. She could feel his eyes roaming all over her figure as if they were his hands and found herself warming in anticipation of the latter.

Gradually the silence, the unspoken control he wielded, ratcheted up the pressure in the room. Her lips were desert dry and she put out her tongue to lick them.

Suddenly he was standing before her. He was large. He loomed over her. She felt fragile, delicately feminine in a way she had never felt before around a man.

He rubbed a thumb roughly over her moistened lips, making her start. ‘You moved,’ he told her quietly. ‘And now you have made me angry.’

He didn’t seem to Cally to be any angrier than before, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She froze again.

‘I will be the one who decides if your lips are to be moistened,’ he continued.

A wild throbbing began between her thighs, with a pulsing that matched the steady, deep beat of her heart, in unexpected excitement at this game of control. Who knew?

‘Perhaps I might permit you to lick your lips. Or perhaps I would choose to lick them myself.’ Jake Stone leant in, without touching her anywhere else, and ran his tongue slowly over her swollen, sensitised skin.

Cally found herself shudder with the shock. He had invaded her personal space. He had touched her. Licked her. She was stunned by experiencing a feeling of growing need. A need to press her tingling lips tightly back to his. A need to put her hands between her thighs, to relieve the tension building there.

‘If you are to be acceptable as my PA, then you must learn that your body belongs to me. You don’t touch it unless I instruct you to.’

It was as if he could read her mind. Knew the cravings that were building inside her. Or perhaps he could see the minute little twitching movements she could not prevent her hips from making, in order to ease the sexual demands of her own body.

‘Take off your pantyhose,’ he whispered softly, making her flinch. ‘I do not permit my PA to wear such unattractive garments. If I employ you as my PA, you will wear stockings or keep your legs bare. I will tell you when each is required.’

Cally’s eyes widened. Was she going to do as he demanded? She would not be able to remove them without pulling her tight skirt up to her waist. She hesitated.

‘Not good enough,’ he informed her. His hands reached round her waist and briskly snapped open the button, drawing the zip downwards. He yanked her skirt down and let it drop in a pool around her feet. ‘When I tell you to do something,’ he ground out, ‘I don’t mean think about it, I mean do it. Straight away. Do you think you have a choice in the matter?’

Already she knew she wasn’t expected to answer him. He had yet to give her permission to speak. She felt foolish standing before him in a blouse, panties, pantyhose. And stilettos. And it wasn’t those that had her all off-balance.

Jake had stepped back, settling his hip on the desk as if to get a better view, while she complied. His body language told her he expected no refusal. Yet she could refuse, she told herself. She didn’t need his stinking job. She could go back and tell her real boss that Jake Stone was a jerk, impossible to work for. She would have to prove herself capable of being a good reporter, some other way. With Mathers.

Cally took a steadying breath. He couldn’t berate her for breathing. She wasn’t prepared to throw in the towel quite so soon. She was made of sterner stuff than that. In fact, she didn’t want to have to go skulking back, to tell Mathers she wasn’t quite up to the rigours of investigative journalism and have him say “I told you so”, while he stroked her bottom sympathetically. She shuddered at the thought.

Her fingers were already in the waistband of her pantyhose. She eased them off her hips and down, revealing skimpy, white, lacy underwear. She wished she’d put on less revealing lingerie that morning.

*****

About Kristal Baird

Kristal has lived in a few different countries as far apart as Australia and Scotland (I wanted a Z really but haven’t lived in one, yet – any suggestions?) with several more places in between. She loves books and started writing her own a few years ago. She has a big dog who wants to walk far more often than she does (but he keeps her healthy) and a sleepy cat, who she is very jealous of (especially first thing in the morning when the cat wakes Kristal up an hour or two before the alarm clock goes off, to feed it and then goes back to sleep again, leaving a sleepy Kristal to get up alone!!).

She’s had some pretty interesting jobs including driving a four ton truck for a touring theatre company (and crashed it!) and working as an au pair for an alpine ski-ing instructor…

Kristal is quite laid-back about life and one of her fave things is to laugh. A lot! She reckons she could have made Genghis Khan not quite such an old meanie… One of Kristal’s (many) ambitions is to walk the entire El Camino de Santiago. Anybody want to come with her? She loves meeting lots of different people and is quite friendly really.

Come on over and say Hi:

http://kristalbaird.blogspot.co.uk/

https://twitter.com/kristalbaird

https://www.facebook.com/KristalBairdAuthor

http://www.goodreads.com/goodreadscomuser_kristalbaird

Well, that’s it, for now, you’ll be happy to hear. I’ve had a fabulous time creating this for you all. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for asking me over, Kd. Mwah x

Kristal x

The Story Behind the Story of Kyoko Church’s Novella, Nymphomania

The Story Behind The Story

It’s my pleasure to welcome Kyoko Church to A Hopeful Romantic. This is her first visit to my site, and I’m very excited to have her here to share the story behind her intriguing new novella, Nymphomania, Book One of the Draper Estates Trilogy. Welcome, Kyoko. Do tell!

 

Thank you very much for having me on your blog today, KD. I’m so honoured!

You asked how the story for my very first book, Nymphomania, Book One in the Draper Estates Trilogy, came to be. I’m so glad you asked! It’s a quirky subject matter.

I don’t know about you but sometimes I love to browse Wikipedia. I especially love to read about all things sexual. Something about the clinical way they describe sexual acts appeals to the pervert in me. A couple of years ago I came across this page http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Female_hysteria. From then I was hooked on the subject of “hysteria.”

That article led me to a book by Rachel P. Maines called The Technology of Orgasm about the history of the vibrator. I became fascinated by the idea that “proper” women in the 19th century and earlier, were thought to not need or want or even be capable of sexual satisfaction. As now seems abundantly obvious as to why, a large number of women in this era suffered from what was termed hysteria, the symptoms of which were everything from headaches to nervousness to “a tendency to cause trouble.” I can only imagine the trouble I’d be causing if I couldn’t acknowledge the need to get off! But I digress. As I was saying, they required treatment from a doctor to reach “hysterical paroxysm,” i.e. orgasm, that temporarily cured their symptoms. They were the doctor’s perfect client since they required regular treatment and were never permanently cured!  These ideas really got my, ahem, creative juices flowing.

NymphomaniaNymphomania is set in the mid 1800s in Boston. Ewan Draper is a successful mill owner and playboy. In order to satisfy appearances he must choose a wife, and he selects Lillianne, one of his “mill girls.” For Lilly, originally a farm girl now bored by life at the dreary mill, it is a dream come true. But when Ewan discovers his new bride behaving improperly, his friend and dubiously accredited doctor, Phillip Samms, deems her a nymphomaniac and assumes her care. Lillianne is forced to submit to the doctor’s research and therapy, therapy that includes paroxysm which he insists must be brought about slowly, while she is bound and made to be quiet.

Lillianne must convince her beloved new groom of his friend’s questionable motives and prove that she does not truly belong under his care. But what Ewan must avoid at all costs is a scandal that could threaten the viability of the mill, the empire he has built. The mere possibility of his wife being labeled a nymphomaniac and thrown into an insane asylum is enough to make him very leery. So Ewan decides Phillip Samms will leave and he will monitor his wife himself. If she can prove herself chaste and proper, he will tell Dr. Samms they no longer require his services. And the life Lillianne dreamed of when she married Ewan Draper will be realized.

But all the while someone is watching. Someone who could be a threat.

Many of the details in Nymphomania were inspired by historical facts I came across in my research, including the pervading thoughts of the time on nymphomania as a real affliction and such juicy tidbits as Lillianne’s improper use of her sewing machine.

 

Here’s an excerpt:

It wasn’t just the monotony. The work on the machine itself was distracting.

As she worked the treadles her thighs rubbed together and this, combined with the vibrations of the machine, well, Lilly had heard that one girl had gotten herself in trouble this way. The two foremen patrolling the mill always had an ear primed to hear the telltale sound of a machine suddenly bursting into a frenzied speed. Rules were strict here and the girls were harshly punished and even docked pay for straying from their work. But docked pay was not the worst of punishments. The way Lilly heard it, last month Mr. Weiler, the older of the two foremen, caught a girl using the machine “improperly.” Lilly shuddered as she thought of the wrinkled, gap toothed grin of the lecherous old man the way it must have been, the way she heard he’d grabbed the girl up, snarling that he would give her what she wanted, and shoved her into the back office. Nothing could be heard over the frightening din of the machines they’d said, but when the girl emerged fifteen minutes later, the pathetic creature’s eyes were red from crying, her lip was swollen and her skirts were torn. She’d disappeared the next morning leaving a note saying she’d gone back to her family’s farm.

So Lilly tried her best to focus on her work. But her mind often betrayed her. And it always seemed to find its way back to Ewan Draper.

She had seen the mill’s owner only once before when he came to consult with the foremen. She did her best not to let her gaze linger too long as he strode across the factory floor, but her quick glimpses drank in his six foot three frame, wavy black hair, wide shoulders and narrowed waist in his finely tailored suit. His stride was long, each step certain and purposeful. His voice commanded respect but his smile was wide and easy. When he laughed it was a profound, sonorous sound from deep within his gut, and he slapped the backs of the men he spoke with. He had actually walked down her aisle and stopped right by her as she worked. She had held her breath and didn’t dare look up, but his hand had lingered for a moment on the edge of her machine as he discussed some small point with the foreman. The size of that hand! She stared raptly at the wide palm and long, thick fingers, something almost brutal in the circumference and apparent strength of each one. She had a sudden impulse to grab that hand, take one of those digits between her lips and suck it. Madness! She had shoved the ridiculous thought aside as her body shivered.

Now the thought returned. Diligently she sat, pushing the coarse fabric deftly through, working the treadle up and down, her thighs squeezed tightly together, her machine drumming its threaded road along its fabric path. The hammering of the needle caused vibrations to pulse through her chair and she worked to push her buttocks closer to the edge of her seat, so slowly as to be barely perceptible. In her mind she caressed Mr. Draper’s hand, slid her own slim fingers between his broad ones, brought them to her cheek and then kissed each finger softly. Now at the edge of her seat she pushed herself down, spread and flattened the soft folds of her flesh firmly on the fabric of her skirts and against the hard wood so as to experience the full intensity of its vibrations. Her thoughts turned to taking that hand, those fingers and pulling them up, under her skirts, between her legs. Slowly she worked the speed up on her treadle, the pushing up and down only serving to further work her thighs against her swelling flesh. She tried hard to keep from gasping as sweat sprang to her brow and began to roll down her temples. Mr. Draper’s imaginary fingers found their target and it took every fibre of her being not to work the treadle to its highest velocity, thereby arousing the suspicion of the wicked Mr Weiler. Instead she continued her steady pace as the vibrations brought her ever closer to her destination.

‘Halt!’ roared the foreman, and Lilly had to stifle a strangled cry of desperation as she unwillingly forced her foot off the treadle causing the vibration to cease.

‘Mr Draper will be visiting the mill in five minutes! This time he wants to take a small amount of time to speak to his mill girls.’ A buzz went around the room. Mr Draper to address the mill girls? ‘I know this is highly usual! I’m sure you’re all excited but let us not allow our emotions to override our good sense. I expect you all to show the highest amount of decorum and industriousness.’

The noise level increased as all the girls turned to each other to converse in giddy anticipation of their much esteemed leader. Lilly, however, was still preoccupied. Her body throbbing, she took advantage of the renewed noise level to gear up her machine to its highest speed. Her mind swirled with thoughts of Ewan Draper now that his presence was imminent: his powerful stride, his commanding voice, his deep laugh. With everyone preoccupied, she worked her treadles furiously, her lower body writhing against the humming chair as she imagined Draper’s hands probing her, rubbing her, taking her. She swallowed her whimpering cries and had just about, had almost, almost, reached her peak just as Ewan Draper entered the mill and Mr Weiler’s piercing eyes fell upon her.

 

I hope you find the subject matter as interesting as I do! If you’d like to download it, you can get it from Amazon here:

http://www.amazon.com/Nymphomania-Draper-Estates-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B008VGY0MO/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1344664784&sr=1-3&keywords=nymphomania

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Nymphomania-Draper-Estates-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B008VGY0MO/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1345120916&sr=1-2

 

If you’d like to visit me at my blog, click here:

http://kyokochurch.blogspot.com.au/?zx=a58e672f5f41d866

I love to hear your feedback. I invite you to leave your comments! I often post snippets of stuff  I’m working on so if you follow me there you’ll often get a preview of my upcoming work!

*****

Kyoko Church discovered the power of the written erotic word when she was 16 years old and penned a very explicit missive to her boyfriend detailing all the naughty things she wanted to do to him. When he received it, boyfriend was impressed. When he found it, father was not.

For the next 18 years she hid her naughty thoughts in shame. Until she found a community where they were once again appreciated for the well-imagined smut they are. Her short stories have been published in anthologies by Black Lace, Rubicund Publishing and Xcite Books. Book One, Nymphomania, in her Draper Estate Trilogy was published by Xcite in August 2012. At Her Feet will be published by Mischief in March 2013.

A Canuck by birth, she has recently made Australia her home. She is currently learning to drive on the left and say G’day convincingly.

 

Website: kyokochurch.blogspot.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/kyoko.church

Twitter: https://twitter.com/kyokochurch

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/kyokochurch/

 

You can find Kyoko Church’s most recent short stories in these anthologies:

http://www.amazon.com/Captivated-Very-Own-Slave-ebook/dp/B007QOXGYK/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1342357904&sr=1-1&keywords=captivated+my+very+own+slave

http://www.amazon.com/My-Secret-Life-What-ebook/dp/B007E3ERTQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1335016436&sr=1-1

http://www.amazon.com/Submission-Treasury-Women-Like-ebook/dp/B006PW46PC/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1344665834&sr=1-1&keywords=submission+treasury

 

Quarantine: The Story Behind the Story By Lisabet Sarai

The Story Behind The Story

It’s my pleasure to welcome the amazing Lisabet Sarai to A Hopeful Romantic on her blog tour for her stunning story, Quarantine. Welcome, Lisabet. Tell us the story behind Quarantine.


I don’t know if I would have written Quarantine if I’d been brought up as something other than Jewish.

None of my family members personally endured the Holocaust. They immigrated decades before the Nazis rose to power. Nevertheless, when you’re a Jew, even a non-observant one like me, the concentration camps and the gas chambers are part of your legacy. The notion that a government might systematically imprison and exterminate millions on the basis of their religious or ethnic background may seem far-fetched and difficult to believe to most people, but when you grow up Jewish, you know the truth. Humans have surprising capacity for evil.

I was an adult before I learned about America’s own camps, where millions of Japanese-Americans were detained during World War II. Of course these individuals weren’t slaughtered, but some did die, of disease or malnutrition, and many of those that survived lost their property, their livelihoods and their communities.

When I listened to the rabid anti-gay rhetoric of right wing politicians and religious figures in the United States, I realized that it wouldn’t take all that much to tip society in the direction of interning gays. (In fact homosexuals were among the victims of Hitler’s “final solution”.) The premise of Quarantine came from that realization, along with the vision of persecution we Jews seem to carry in our bones.

Dylan and Rafe first came to me as characters for a short story, in response to a call for gay BDSM erotica. I could imagine the power differential between a camp guard and a gay prisoner, in a world where being homosexual was a crime. I soon understood that this was far too complicated a scenario for five thousand words. As I started to work on the idea, I saw that the power dynamics could be far more nuanced than I’d initially imagined. In the final novel, Rafe is ostensibly the one on top, but Dylan controls much of the action through charisma and craft.

The final book doesn’t include any explicit BDSM, other than a scene where one of the villains kidnaps and binds Dylan for his own entertainment. At the same time, the book is about power – political power, moral power and erotic power.

QuarantineBlurb

When love is forbidden, the whole world’s a prison.

Dylan Moore will do anything for freedom. Seven years ago, a gay epidemic spread to heterosexuals, killing millions and sparking brutal anti-gay riots. The Guardians rounded up men who tested positive for the homogene and imprisoned them in remote quarantine centres like desolate Camp Malheur. Since then, Dylan has hacked the camp’s security systems and hoarded spare bits of electronics, seeking some way to escape. He has concluded the human guards are the only weakness in the facility’s defences.

Camp guard Rafe Cowell is H-negative. He figures the lust he feels watching prisoner 3218 masturbate on the surveillance cameras must be due to his loneliness and isolation. When he finally meets the young queer, he discovers that Dylan is brilliant, brave, sexy as hell – and claims to be in love with Rafe. Despite his qualms, Rafe finds he can’t resist the other man’s charm. By the time Dylan asks for his help in escaping, Rafe cares too much for Dylan to refuse.

Dylan’s plan goes awry and Rafe comes to his rescue. Soon they’re both fugitives, fleeing from militant survivalists, murderous androids, homophobic ideologues and a powerful man who wants Dylan as his sexual toy. Hiding in the Plague-ravaged city of Sanfran, Dylan and Rafe learn there’s far more than their own safety at stake. Can they help prevent the deaths of millions more people? And can Rafe trust the love of a man who deliberately seduced him in order to escape from quarantine?

Excerpt (Rated X)

Rafe rammed his prick into Dylan’s mouth, seeking heat and wetness. Meanwhile, he opened wide and engulfed his lover’s cock, sliding his lips down the length. The taut skin was velvety and smooth. He thought he could feel Dylan’s pulse against his tongue. He licked at the warm, ripe flesh. It felt so alive, so full, ready to burst.

He’d never tasted a man’s cum, but he wanted to now. He rocked his hips up and down, letting Dylan feast on his meat. Meanwhile, he suckled the other man’s organ, mimicking the tricks Dylan used, that he was using now in fact, to drag Rafe to the very edge of control. Pleasure welled up and threatened to overflow, but Rafe didn’t plan to come yet. No, he needed to hold on until he made Dylan shoot. It was a matter of honour.

The white guy was close. Rafe bore down, tilting his head back to lengthen his throat. Dylan arched in response, slamming his bulb against Rafe’s palate. Rafe fought the urge to choke. He knew how good it felt to let everything rip, to drive your cock deep, as deep as you could, to ravage someone’s willing mouth, holding nothing back, nothing…

Without warning, or at least any that he recognised, yeasty fluid filled his mouth. He coughed and swallowed. Dylan’s cock convulsed, spitting out more gobs of warm liquid. Rafe gulped down as much as he could, the remnants leaking from the corners of his lips. The odd taste, the unfamiliar sensations, and most of all, the knowledge that he’d sucked his lover to climax, all combined to take him over the edge. With one last thrust, he let go.

The pleasure was round and full, different somehow from his usual wild, jagged orgasms. It surged up from his depths, powerful, irresistible, sweeping away every thought in a blissful tide of satisfaction. For what seemed like hours, the waves rolled through him, pleasure swirling up from his balls and out onto Dylan’s tongue.

Rafe collapsed on top of his lover. Dylan’s cock slipped out from between his bruised lips. His face was sticky with jizz. His arms muscles screamed from exertion. He felt Dylan’s cat-like tongue, lapping the last drops of semen from his own dick.

He’d never been happier.

****

Thanks, K.D, for having me as your guest. This post today is part of my Quarantine blog tour, which will run  through the 24th of July. I’ll be giving away an ebook to one commenter at each stop on the tour. So leave a comment – and don’t forget to include your email address so I can contact you!

I’ll also be choosing one commenter from the entire tour to win the grand prize – a $50 All Romance Ebooks gift certificate. Meanwhile, all comments at my own blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com) during the tour will also go into the drawing for the gift certificate.

You’ll find the schedule for the tour in my July newsletter: http://www.lisabetsarai.com/news.html

You can watch the sensational Quarantine trailer here. And if you’re interested in getting your own copy of Quarantine, just go to Total-E-Bound (http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?P_ID=1725)!

*****

Bio: More than a decade ago LISABET SARAI experienced a serendipitous fusion of her love of writing and her fascination with sex. Since then she has published four single author short story collections and seven erotic novels, including the BDSM classic Raw Silk. Dozens of her shorter works have been released as ebooks and in print anthologies. She has also edited several acclaimed anthologies and is currently responsible for the altruistic erotica series COMING TOGETHER PRESENTS.

Lisabet holds more degrees than anyone needs from prestigious universities who would no doubt be embarrassed by her chosen genre. She loves to travel and currently lives in Southeast Asia with her highly tolerant husband and two cosmopolitan felines. For more information on Lisabet and her writing visit Lisabet Sarai’s Fantasy Factory (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com).