Tag Archives: guest blogger

An Interview with Charlotte Howard (@shy_tiger)

theblackdoor_tourbuttonI’m delighted to welcome Charlotte Howard to the site as part of her blog tour for The Black Door. She’s telling us all about the book, not to mention Alex O’Loughlin and Kate Beckinsale. Take it away, Charlotte…

 

Tell us about yourself. Both your writing self and your non-writing self. What are your interests and hobbies? Do you have a day job, etc?

I wear a lot of hats! I’m mum to two young children, so spend a lot of time running around after them and their many afterschool activities (recorders, swimming, Brownies…), and I volunteer at our local primary school and for Rainbows (Girl Guiding Association) so with all that and writing, I don’t have a lot of free time. I used to freelance as a pet health care writer, but don’t have the time to write any new articles, so put them up where I can.

When I do get five minutes, I’m reading or watching TV. I’m addicted to my murder-mysteries – Bones, Castle, Murdoch Mysteries, and a few fantasy series like Grimm and Once Upon A Time. We’ve just started watching Game of Thrones as well.

 

Give us the background on your latest release.

The Black Door is a contemporary / light erotic romance – it lies somewhere in between. The story is about Imogen Pearce and her self-discovery. After writing my first novels (Seven Dirty Words and Four Letter Words), a reader mentioned that all heroines seem to be rich, beautiful and young. So I created Imogen – fast approaching 40, recently divorced, and mum to four children aged between 18 months and 19 years old (ish). She has to compete against the younger generation for clients, and has a low opinion of herself. I wrote it to prove that you don’t have to be under the age of 30 to be sexy.

I didn’t do much research for it, since I am a mum over the age of 30 and know what it’s like to look in a mirror and see everything heading south and the spaghetti junction of stretch marks on your stomach, bum, and thighs! I have a lot of friends who are single mums, and I guess they were my inspiration in to how difficult life can be and how much support you need as a single parent – mum or dad.

When I told my friends about the story line, they did suggest we went to a fetish club, for research obviously.  We still haven’t got round to that though…

 

How did you get started with writing? And what was your route to publication like?

I’ve always written poetry and short stories. My first publication was a poem I wrote when I was 10. Four years later, my grandma entered it into a competition and it was published in an anthology. That’s how I got the bug, and my goal was to be a published author.

I wrote my first novella while I was pregnant with my daughter and self-published it in 2010. But it wasn’t great and hadn’t been edited, so I took it out of print as soon as I realised what it takes to be a writer.

As a freelance writer, I made a lot of contacts in the publishing world, and it was through those contacts that I got my first contract for Seven Dirty Words & Four Letter Words. I also joined my local writer’s group, and started attending events such as The Romance Festival in Bedford, and Smut by The Sea in Scarborough. Through these I met other writers and found out about other Indie and small publishers.

I still send manuscripts out to bigger houses, and well-known agents, but I don’t hold my breath. I like working directly with the publishers and editors. I feel I have a lot of control over my books, certainly a lot more than I would have through one of the Big Six.

 

What are you currently working on?

There’s always at least one WIP on my laptop. I’ve just been on holiday to DisneyLand Paris though, so don’t have anything in particular right now. I’d like to work on my next series but need to get back into my writing head first. After four days in the Disney bubble, I need a week to recover!

 

Do you have a particular Muse for your writing? Do any of your characters bear startling resemblances to sexy celebrities or people you admire?

I don’t have a particular Muse as such, but I do have a Pinterest board full of “Delicious Temptations”. I am a big Will Smith fan, but when it comes to my main character’s it’s usually a picture of Alex O’Loughlin (Hawaii Five-0) in my head. I love him so much… Did I actually type that?? Whoops…

 

 

Where do you see yourself in five years? Both writing-wise and non-writing-wise?

A best-selling author with a huge contract (hey, I said I don’t hold my breath, not that I didn’t want a deal with one of the Big Six!). More realistically though, I’d like to be earning enough royalties that my husband can do photography full-time as opposed to part-time and working a full-time job.

Non-writing wise? I’m happy as I am. Although our plan is to buy an old farmhouse that needs renovating.

 

And now for some silly questions…

Muscled or skinny? Muscles please!

Tall or short? Tall – over 6 foot at least.

Boxers or briefs? Boxers

Moustache or beard? Beard. Well… Five o’clock shadow.

Long hair or shaven head? Ooh tricky. Long hair??

Tattoos or piercings? Ink me baby! Love a good tribal tattoo going down the arm, leg or over his back!!

Intelligent or funny? Intelligent. But not too intelligent. I don’t want to look stupid.

Blond, brunette or red head? Brunette or black.

Hottest celebrity (tell us why, if you like)? Panic!!! Too many to list. Alex O’Loughlin for looks and tattoos, Will Smith for making me laugh.

Top same-sex crush (or opposite sex if you already like same-sex!) Kate Beckinsale. No contest. She’s on my list of celebrities I’m allowed to cheat with.

Most disliked celebrity (tell us why, if you like) There’s a couple of comedians I just don’t find funny, and I don’t appreciate slapstick humour, but there’s no one in particular that I dislike.

Favourite food Curry. Chicken Tikka Masala with an action movie.

Favourite book (tell us why, if you like) Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – it’s the one book I can read over and over again, and still laugh out loud to.

Favourite place in the world (tell us why, if you like) St. Lucia. I’ve never been, but it’s supposed to be the most romantic island in the world.

Anything else you’d like to add? Buy my book please? Lol. Thank you for interviewing me 🙂

 

The Black DoorBlurb:

Imogen Pearce is a single mum of four children and fast approaching 40, she works at Ryedale Incorporated where she has to battle a younger and smarter generation to get to where she wants to go. If that means taking on the account of Cherry and Sean Rubin’s adult shop, then she will. But what happens when Imogen discovers the private club that they run at the back? And what happens when she realizes she knows quite a few members?

Buy links:
Tirgearr Publishing
Smashwords
Amazon UK
Amazon US

 

Extract:

Men. All the bloody same.

My mind traced back to the day I had given up on one-sided monogamous relationships.

The children were at school or work, and the sun was beating down. It was a glorious day, and I had decided to go home for lunch, rather than spend it in a stuffy office.

I pulled up outside the house and a fleeting thought passed through my mind when I saw Connor’s car sitting in the driveway. My husband of eighteen years had had the same idea.

I crept into the house, hoping to surprise him. But, it turned out that his idea had involved a slutty bottle-blonde.

I wanted to blame the events that followed on a red mist descending over me. The truth is that in the time it took for my mind to register that some tart was riding my husband in what I later found out was known as reverse cowgirl, my mind had calculated the necessary response.

The skank lost a good handful of bleached hair, roots and all. I allowed her to gather her clothes and watched as she tugged her pants on whilst running out of the house. If nothing else, the neighbours got a good show.

Connor yelled at me. But his words were drowned out by the blood pumping in my ears. I marched back up the stairs and into his little study. Opening the window, I saw Miss Slut stood in the middle of the road, screeching obscenities at me. I looked at the Ferrari in our driveway and smiled.

I think his Xbox enjoyed its first and final flying lesson as it sailed out of the window. The fact that it landed in the bonnet of his prized mid-life crisis proved that Karma does exist.

Connor. Holly.

I made a mental note of the two names at the top of my imaginary hit list.

I blinked and I was back in the boardroom.

 

Charlotte HowardAuthor Bio:

British author Charlotte Howard, was born in Oman and spent much of the first part of her life flitting between Oman, Scotland, and England. Now settled in Somerset, Charlotte lives with her husband, two children, and growing menagerie of pets.

Her career as a writer began at an early age, with a poem being featured in an anthology for the East Midlands. Since then Charlotte has written many short stories and poems, and finally wrote her first full-length piece of fiction in 2010. Her debut novel was published in January 2013.

During what little spare time she has, Charlotte enjoys reading and writing (of course), spending time with her family, and watching action movies whilst eating curry and drinking tea.

www.charlottehowardauthor.co.uk
http://choward2614.wordpress.com
http://facebook.com/charlottehowardauthor
http://twitter.com/Shy_Tiger

 

Thanks again for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed this interview and wish you the best of luck with your latest release. Many sales!

5 Reasons You Want a Tattooed God by Em Petrova

Love TiesMy latest book LOVE TIES is all about gritty guys, and yes, they have a lot of ink! I’m a sucker for a hard body with tattoos, and here are 5 reasons you want to run your hands up and down a muscled, tattooed body too.

 

  1. Having a tattooed man is like having a private art gallery. Study the masterful strokes and imagine what thoughts went on behind the ink. Also when he catches you ogling him, you can say you’re looking at his tats.
  2. No more unwelcome advances from other men. Once they see your bad-boy, their man-parts will shrivel and they’ll leave you alone.
  3. Making other ladies jealous. Their eyes open wide, and they are totally convinced that you’re getting amazing sex.
  4. You know he can cope with pain, so you won’t be driving him to the hospital for things like ingrown toenails.
  5. Finding tattoos under those clothes you strip off is like hitting the jackpot. Then you can kiss and lick all the lines as if you’re following a road map.

 

Do you have any more reasons you want a tattooed god? I’d love to hear them! Read on for a sexy excerpt from LOVE TIES, now available!

*****

The instant he walked into The Gearhead bar, she knew it. Chatter stuttered to a stop, and the cover band seemed to trip on the beat. Without looking over her shoulder, Ever felt Jamison’s heavy stare.

A shiver raced down her spine, but she managed to keep from contorting into a strange shape on the barstool. Jamison Montgomery. Hell, even his name had serious swagger.

Gripping her glass, she stared at the green contents. Sex with an Alligator was her drink of choice, which had amused the hell out of Jamison from the very beginning. Ever hitched her boot heel on the stool rung and tried not to squirm.

From the corner of her eye she glimpsed the man who stopped every lady—and quite a few men—in their tracks. Six-feet-two with a chiseled chest that served as a fine pillow. Not that she’d admit it to anyone.

The pretty bartender leaned across the polished surface. “Wow, look at him. I bet a girl could ride him to Sturgis and back.”

As if she didn’t know exactly who the brunette referred to, Ever glanced around. And instantly regretted it.

Jamison’s deep hazel gaze latched onto her like a motorhead attached himself to a restored Harley. Ever’s skin broke out in goose bumps at the sight of the same five o’clock shadow that had burned her inner thighs so deliciously not twelve hours ago.

She clenched her knees together and took a slug of the green drink that tasted like a sour apple hard candy.

“Do you know who that is?” the bartender asked.

Barely turning her head, Ever tried not to let him catch her gaze again, but damn if he wasn’t a professional at it. She let him consume her with his eyes a heartbeat too long. Then shaking her head, she dragged her gaze away from his ruggedly beautiful face and tried to play it cool. “Just some dirtbag.”

Her drawl was Deep South even to her own ears—something Jamison had commented on. That and her name. There weren’t a lot of girls named Ever on the big blue ball they called Earth. When explaining her name, she always claimed her mother had named her this, because given a choice, she’d never, ever get pregnant again.

Three stools down, the scrape of metal legs on the dusty wood floor made Ever’s nipples pucker. Anything the man touched or looked at turned her into runny grits. The bartender smoothed her hands over her perfectly trim hips before bouncing down to take his order.

“What can I get ya tonight, loverboy?”

“Double of Jack.” When he spoke, his gritty tone ignited Ever. Too well she recalled him calling her baby in the same voice, sounding as if he’d swallowed gaskets and chased them with moonshine.

Ever’s skin prickled.

She’d regretted coming back to this Podunk town where she’d spent too many years as someone’s wife. Then the purdiest man in the state of Alabama had wandered through the door.

Too bad he was not a cowboy. Or a banker. A post office worker. Hell, she’d prefer a sewer employee over another man wearing leather and sporting too much horsepower between his legs.

She shifted in her seat, aware of Jamison’s gaze. She didn’t dare turn her head because her face would light up like the Fourth of July. With a complexion like hers, she had little control over her blushes.

Last night Jamison kissed her heated cheeks and rumbled a laugh. “You match your hair,” he’d said.

“I’ve gotta use the lady’s room. Save my drink.” Ever’s mutter to the waitress didn’t go unnoticed by Mr. Tight Jeans. She didn’t get halfway down the corridor leading to the restrooms when leather and earthy aftershave overwhelmed her.

He grabbed her elbow and whirled her. Her back struck the wall, but he slid a hand behind her in time to cushion the impact. As Jamison leaned in, breath minty and lips inviting as hell, she panted for control.

“Just some dirtbag, huh?”

He was dressed to kill in those dark jeans, his motorcycle club T-shirt, and a black leather vest that fitted to every muscled inch of his torso. Ever’s knees sagged, and he trapped her more firmly against the wall.

Dipping his head, he nuzzled her throat. She sucked in a harsh breath and fought the urge to twist her fingers into his leather cut and yank him down. The memory of those heated lips gliding over her flesh was almost too much to bear.

“Was I just some dirtbag to you last night?”

“Y-yes.” Her whisper was a lie, and they both knew it. God, how was she going to continue to resist this man? Every nerve ending in her body begged for his callused touch. But no, she had too much to lose.

Going back to the Life wasn’t an option. She’d busted her ass to break free of the world of guns, drugs, and anything on two wheels.

In the background the band struck a new song, the drummer a little too enthusiastic. Heller’s Gap had never been known for its musical talent, but someone had to keep couples revolving on The Gearhead’s dance floor.

What the hell had she been thinking to even come into a biker bar? Old habits would kill her in the end.

Jamison skated his perfectly hard lips down her neck to the hollow of her collarbone. Last night he’d drizzled cheap wine on her and lapped it up from that very spot. She melted down the wall, but he pinioned her crotch on his steely thigh.

She wet her lips. “I don’t plan on hanging around some guy wearing patches on his vest.” She’d almost chanted this mantra for twelve hours since meeting him.

Last night a single look from Jamison was all it took. Two slow dances later she was wrapped around him on the back of his bike.

Sure, it would start like this—scorching hot sex with a very considerate lover. But over time she’d be up all night, worrying about why he’d gone out packing more heat than the police force. Or whether or not he was with some sweet butt.

Her father had been a MC officer, and her ex patched in when he was barely eighteen. She’d learned how to hate men from the very best.

Guys like Jamison were also too damned sexy for her sanity. She planted her boots and tried to straighten away from him, but he rocked his thigh against her pussy. As hard muscle met needy flesh, even through the barrier of jeans, her eyes rolled back in her head.

“Just some dirtbag who can do this to you.” He pressed his knee upward, lifting her onto tiptoe. She bit off a cry. “And this.” He palmed her breasts, and heat tore through her as if she weren’t wearing a cotton shirt. “Or this.” He nipped her earlobe, and she couldn’t stop herself.

She turned her mouth into his, desperate for his taste. The instant she parted her lips, he plunged inside. For two mind-blowing minutes she forgot her name, her reasons for coming back to Heller’s Gap, and every good intention she had.

Jamison’s kisses stole all rational thought. He angled his head and drank from her, flicking his tongue along her lower lip until her panties were a soggy mess. He cradled her jaw and drove his tongue into her mouth again.

Whimpering, she clung to him.

He leaned away with a satisfied smirk. “Pretty good for just some dirtbag, eh, Ever?”

 

Buy links:

Amazon US
Amazon UK
Publisher
BN
All Romance eBooks

 

Visit Em Petrova

http://empetrova.com

https://www.facebook.com/empetrovahardworkingheroes

LIKE Amazon Author page

Goodreads

The Silk Tie by Lily Harlem (@lily_harlem)

The Silk Tie“If you enjoyed The Glass Knot you’ll LOVE The Silk Tie.”

New from Lily Harlem, The Silk Tie, a steamy ménage a trois novel (mmf) that celebrates desire, fantasy and follows the brave decision of a woman to let a third into a her relationship. It’s steamy, sexy and leaves no detail unexplored. Grab a copy, settle down and enjoy a rollercoaster of emotions with Hayley, Gabe and Brent.

The Silk Tie is available from Amazon

The Glass Knot is available from Amazon and all other good ebook retailers

 

Back cover information

Professional life in the City of London is tough going which is why my husband Gabe and I live by the motto work hard and play hard. So when something, or rather someone, comes along that changes how he wants to play I’m intrigued by our sexy new game.

But there’s always private sides to the ones you love, and in this case new thoughts and desires are stealing Gabe’s dreams. It’s not until I meet Brent—gorgeous and sophisticated yet soul-achingly alone—that I begin to understand the complex layers of Gabe’s needs and exactly what I have to do.

But I’m not afraid; in fact the idea of two men turns me the hell on. In a whirlwind of romance, fear, desire and a new cresting wave of passion we open up to each other, testing the water for one weekend only. Or is it? Will we ever be the same again? Can Gabe and I survive our decision to let a third into our bed? Can Brent just walk away and, more importantly, will we let him?

 

Excerpt

The bathroom door opened, and Gabe wandered out wearing his favorite pair of worn jeans. His chest was bare and his hair was damp and pushed back over his head. He’d shaved that morning but I could smell a fresh application of his most expensive cologne.

“How are you doing?” I asked, standing.

Damn, he looked so absolutely fuckable.

He walked up to me and cupped my face. “I’m fine, are you?”

“Yes.” My stomach was tense and my skin hot and tingly, a bit like going up the ramp on a rollercoaster. But I was okay.

“No matter what happens, remember I love you,” Gabe said. “You’re my wife, my soul mate. Nothing can change that.”

“I know, and you remember that this is your moment of fun with Brent. Go with it. Forget I’m here. Realize the fantasy.”

“I doubt I’ll forget that you’re here…” He paused and smiled. “Well, maybe a little.”

I ran my hand down his chest then smoothed it over the lower curve of his defined pectoral muscles. “I put out the lube and condoms.”

He glanced at the locker. “Thanks.”

There was a knock at the door.

We both looked at each other then at the entrance to the room.

The door opened and Brent walked in.

He wore tight black boxers and nothing else. Like Gabe’s, his hair was damp.

He shut the door up and stood still, staring at us.

Gabe dropped his hands from my face and I took a step away.

“It’s dark in here,” Brent said.

“Too dark?” Gabe asked. “I can open the curtains.”

“No, it’s perfect,” Brent said, walking around the end of the bed and up to Gabe. “I can see you but it’s not dazzling. My eyes are adjusting now.” He smiled and gestured to the chair, looked my way. “You’ve found your viewing position, I see.”

“Yes.” I nodded.

He stepped past Gabe, reached for my hand and drew my knuckles to his lips. “I hope you enjoy the show.”

I swallowed. “I’m sure I will.”

He released me and turned to Gabe.

I admired Brent’s torso as he moved. Long and sleek, his muscles rippled gently beneath the surface. He didn’t appear to have any fat on him, he was just neat, harnessed strength. And his boxers covered an impressive bulge, the outline of which was easily made out. I’d guess he was already half-mast just with the anticipation of fucking Gabe.

“You smell good,” he said to Gabe as he ran the tip of his index finger over Gabe’s shoulder and down his bicep. “Delicious, in fact.”

Gabe tensed. “Thank you.”

“Relax,” Brent said. “You want this.”

“I do,” Gabe said, “I want you.”

Brent smiled then leaned forward and kissed my husband.

I stood and watched, mesmerized, the way I had been when I’d spied on them. Their large jaws moved in time. Both men had their eyes shut and the dance of their mouths showed their sleek tongues touching and exploring.

Gabe moaned a little, how he did when he became lost in a kiss, and he set his hands on the sides of Brent’s waist. The touch seemed a little hesitant, a bit awkward, though I could tell he was completely invested in the kiss.

Brent pulled back a fraction. He rested his palm on Gabe’s cheek then turned to me. “Come here, Hayley.”

I did as he’d asked. “What?” I asked quietly. My heart was thudding—just seeing them kiss did seriously stimulating things to my libido.

“Kiss him,” Brent said. “Kiss your husband.”

That was an instruction I didn’t need to be given twice.

Brent kept his hand on Gabe’s face as I meshed my lips with Gabe’s, prodding his tongue with mine and absorbing the lingering flavor of Brent in his mouth.

When I broke the kiss, Brent placed his hand on my face, too, so he was holding us both.

“You two are hot together,” he said smiling. “And so perfect for one another. I feel honored that you’ve let me in to fulfill a fantasy.”

“We feel the same about you being here,” Gabe said. He touched Brent’s mouth with his fingertips and traced the shape of his lips.

Brent smiled and gazed at Gabe. He then dropped his hand from my face and, as I’d done earlier, he caressed Gabe’s chest.

I felt Gabe’s shoulder shift against mine as he sucked in a breath. Being touched sensually, by a man, was what he’d wanted.

“I didn’t think you’d bother with jeans,” Brent said, slipping his hand down to Gabe’s waistband.

“I’m commando,” Gabe said with an almost shy smile.

Brent waggled his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Let’s have a look then, shall we?” Brent sank to his knees so his face was level with Gabe’s groin.

He undid the top button on Gabe’s jeans, then the next and the next. His big fingers worked slowly but steadily and his face held a serious expression of concentration.

Gabe was utterly still at my side.

Brent released the last button then tugged and shifted the jeans down to Gabe’s knees.

Gabe’s cock sprung forward, stiff and thick. The veins were raised and it jutted jauntily toward Brent’s face.

“Commando works for me,” Brent said. He swept his tongue over his bottom lip and stared at Gabe’s erection.

“I need…” Gabe kicked a little and rid himself of his trousers completely. “To lose these.”

Brent smiled and shoved the jeans aside. He didn’t take his gaze from Gabe’s cock. “Good, naked is how I like you best, so it seems.”

I liked Gabe naked too, but I wasn’t about to speak and break the sizzling connection between the two men. It was almost palpable. The air was alive with need.

Brent slid his palms up from Gabe’s knees to his thighs then tickled his fingers through Gabe’s wiry pubic hair.

Again Gabe tensed. He swayed too.

“You have an incredible dick,” Brent said. “I want to taste it.”

“Okay…” Gabe said, his voice breathy and light. “I mean yes…please do.”

Brent smiled, but only briefly because then he opened his mouth, leaned forward and took the head of Gabe’s cock between his lips. He gripped Gabe’s shaft with his right hand and with his left, scooped up his balls.

“Ah, fuck,” Gabe said. He toppled backward a few inches before adjusting his balance.

I snapped out my arm and curled it around his waist, felt his weight sag against me as I supported him.

“That’s…oh, God, your mouth on me…Brent.”

Gabe didn’t need to say the words. Brent’s mouth, stretched around the flare of Gabe’s cock, was a beautiful and highly erotic sight.

Brent slid Gabe’s shaft deeper. His eyes were shut and his jaw pulled wide. He fed Gabe in, slipping his fingers over his erection.

Gabe reached out and weaved his fingers into Brent’s hair. “Fucking hell,” he gasped.

Brent kept going. I knew how much of Gabe I could take in my mouth, and it wasn’t to the root but Brent was nearly there now. His cheeks bulged and his nostrils flared. I could hear him breathing hard through his nose.

Gabe panted and stared downward.

I held him tight, my nipples peaking against my floaty sundress and my pussy dampening the gusset of my knickers.

“Ahh, yeah…”Gabe said, rocking his hips forward.

Brent’s face became buried in Gabe’s pubic hair. His shoulders were raised, tense, and his hand that had gripped Gabe’s cock now squeezed Gabe’s hip, his knuckles were paling.

I knew he’d be fighting his gag reflex. He had Gabe so deep, so far down.

He began to withdraw.

Gabe’s cock came into view, inch-by-inch, saliva-coated and shiny.

Gabe dragged in a deep breath then blew it out slowly.

Brent took hold of Gabe’s shaft again and held it tight. He pumped from the base to the tip several times, pulling on the skin and working his tongue over and into the slit.

Gabe moaned and flexed his hips.

“Ready for more?” Brent asked, looking up at Gabe.

“Yes,” Gabe said. “Absolutely.”

Again, Brent opened his mouth wide. He took Gabe on a fast ride to full-depth.

Gabe gasped and curled his fingers into fists in Brent’s hair.

My hands tingled with a desire to also touch Brent. Feel his hair, the texture of his skin. But I didn’t, I kept them to myself. One arm around Gabe’s waist, the other bunching up a handful of my sundress. I couldn’t interfere, that wasn’t my role here.

Brent was pulling back and sinking deep on Gabe’s cock over and over, his whole body rocking backward and forward.

Gabe was breathing fast, his abdomen was tense and I could feel tremors rippling over his muscles.

“Stop,” Gabe said suddenly. “Please, no more. You’re going to make me come.”

Brent let Gabe’s shaft slip from his mouth. “That’s the idea.”

“Not…like this…I want…I need…”

 

 

Lily HarlemLily Harlem Bio

Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is an award-winning author of contemporary erotic romance. She writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including Ellora’s Cave, HarperCollins, Totally Bound, Xcite and Sweetmeats Press. Her HOT ICE series regularly receives high praise and industry nominations.

Before turning her hand to writing Lily Harlem worked as a trauma nurse and her latest HarperCollins release, Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse, draws on her many experiences while nursing in London. Lily also self-publishes and The Glass Knot and Scored have been blessed with many 5* reviews since their release in 2012.

Her latest novel, Breathe You In, is a super-sexy romance with a twist that will not only heat you up but stay with you for years to come. Breathe You In was named a USA Today Reviewer’s Recommended Read of 2013.

Lily also co-authors with Natalie Dae and publishes under the name Harlem Dae – check out the Sexy as Hell Box Set Trilogy available exclusively on Amazon – The Novice, The Player and The Vixen – and That Filthy Book which has been hailed as a novel ‘every woman should read’.

One thing you can be sure of, whatever book you pick up by Ms Harlem, is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy. Enjoy!

Lily Harlem Links
Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/
Blog http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/
Twitter https://twitter.com/lily_harlem
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/lily.harlem
Facebook author page https://www.facebook.com/LilyHarlemAuthor
Pinterest http://pinterest.com/lilyharlem/
Raw Talent http://rawtalentseries.co.uk
BritBabes http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk
Hockey Romance http://www.hockeyromance.com
Newsletter Subscription http://www.lilyharlem.com/newsletter-subscription.html
Hot Ice https://www.facebook.com/hoticeseries
Google+https://plus.google.com/u/0/106837751333678531161/posts
Harlem Dae http://www.harlemdae.com
Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4070110.Lily_Harlem

 

Author Pages

Ellora’s Cave Totally Bound Amazon US Amazon UK ARe Kobo B&N Sony ibooks

Writing BDSM – Contemporary vs. Historical by Normandie Alleman (@normandiea)

normandiealleman_tourbuttonAs someone who writes BDSM erotic scenes in both a contemporary and a historical setting, I find that in historical books I have my work cut out for me.

Think back to the 1600’s. There were no “dungeon BDSM clubs”. Back then they were real dungeons and I don’t think many people getting beaten in them were offered the luxury of a safeword. The whips they used were intended to do serious harm and open the skin, while today’s floggings might raise a pink welt.

They didn’t have the toys we do. No magic wands or rabbits, no nipple clamps. (Imagine my chagrin to find they didn’t even invent clothespins for another century!) So what’s an author of days gone-by kinkiness to do? Get creative.

Rope is a pirate and a kinkster’s best friend. Pirate ships are filled with it, and our hero in the Pirates of the Jolie Rouge series, Gaston, uses it frequently on his beloved Frederica. In the following scene he uses another product easily found in the seventeenth century – candle wax – to enhance his bedroom play with his submissive Frederica.

Bound by the BuccaneerHere’s an excerpt from my latest erotic historical novella Bound by the Buccaneer

Without preamble he spread her legs wide and swiftly entered her. Her drenched cunt offered him easy access to the depths of her canal, and he drove into her like a man possessed. His strokes were long and languid but powerful, dragging out their pleasure as if he wanted to wring every drop of passion from her. His deliberate pace increased her anticipation by making her wait for him to fill her each time. She writhed underneath him, thinking that his cock plundering her pussy was so delicious she might never be able to get enough. But then he buried himself so deep inside her that she felt the tip of his penis smash into her cervix. The result was the sweet combination of pleasure and pain. It hurt, but she desperately wanted more.

His fingers fisted her hair, and he yanked on it as he fucked her. Her scalp screamed, but her pussy clamped down hard on his cock, her walls contracting around him like a vice. She arched her back and he pinched both her nipples, rolling them between his fingertips. Then he pulled them upward until her cries of lust morphed to something darker.

Then he withdrew, reached over and removed the candle from the lantern. He held it over her body, a devilish look on his face.

She felt her body stiffen, her eyes widen. He’d done this once before and the experience had been an extreme combination of pleasure and pain. Overall she’d enjoyed it, but she remembered some of the hottest droplets of wax scorching her skin.

“Scared?” he taunted.

She struggled for something to say, but nothing came to her. She couldn’t honestly say no, but if she dared to deny it, she worried if he’d think of something even more dastardly to do to her. Yet her pride kept her from admitting to fear.

“What’s the matter? Lost your voice?”

“No, sir,” she gulped.

Waggling his brow he winked at her as he towered over her, candle poised just above her stomach. “That’s alright. Your face tells me all I need to know.”

She watched as the first droplet crashed against the pale, sensitive skin of her belly. The liquid fire burned. She winced and prepared for the next one.

In an unexpected but welcome move, Gaston rubbed the tip of his cock around the opening to her pussy. Her hips gyrated, wanting him inside her again. His eyes darkened with desire as he took in the picture of his helpless, wanton captive beneath him.

“Who do you belong to wench?” he asked, anger in his voice.

Another droplet of scalding hot wax splashed onto her breast, and she found herself lifting her chest searching for the next one. Something in the back of her mind told her it was insane to want more of this treatment, but she squelched the intrusive voice and gave in to her cravings.

“You, master. I belong to you,” she answered. It aroused her to think of herself as his. His property. His woman to do with as he chose. She realized there was nothing he loved better than dominating her, and she drew in a ragged breath. Exhaling, she realized there was nothing she loved better than allowing him to.

 

Bound by the Buccaneer

Two years have passed since Frederica joined Gaston aboard the Ocean’s Knave, and with every passing hour they have fallen more deeply in love. By day she is the ship’s physician, but at night she serves her captain in his bed, offering her body for him to punish and pleasure until she begs for more. But after a successful run of raiding other pirate ships, the couple have a target on their backs.

Their only hope is to form an alliance with a trio of like-minded captains, but in order to guarantee the cooperation of these unyielding, battle-hardened men, Gaston is forced to offer them a night with Frederica. Reluctantly, she agrees to be shared with the men, but afterwards Gaston finds it difficult to forgive himself for bartering Frederica’s charms. As jealousy and desperation threaten to consume him, will Gaston lose his beloved Frederica or can he weather the storm and find a way to bind her to him forever?

Publisher’s Note: Bound by the Buccaneer is the second book of the Pirates of the Jolie Rouge trilogy, which began with Rescued by the Buccaneer. It is an adventure and erotic romance novel that includes spankings, sexual scenes including a foursome, anal play, elements of BDSM, and more.

You can pick up your copy of Bound by the Buccaneer today:

Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/kcgqmgq
Amazon UK: http://tinyurl.com/oe2or3c
Barnes & Noble: http://tinyurl.com/pf4sa6z
ARe: http://tinyurl.com/ml2ra5j
Kobo: http://tinyurl.com/ljhyhp6
Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/nclg55o

Since the Pirate of the Jolie Rouge Trilogy is best read in order, here’s more about the first book:

Rescued by the BuccaneerRescued by the Buccaneer

When Frederica Beauchamp boards a ship for the Americas, she dreams of a life filled with adventure, but she gets more than she bargained for when her passenger ship is attacked by pirates.  The heartless men kidnap her and force her to serve their captain—a fate that might be worse than death, since though he does not have his way with her, the captain delights in baring her, shaming her, and thrashing her bare bottom as punishment for every imagined disobedience.

After the pirates bring aboard an injured man found floating in the sea, Frederica tends to his wounds and learns that he is Gaston Galette, a survivor of a shipwrecked vessel. Gaston seeks her help to overthrow the vile captain, but when their plan goes awry he is forced to use all of his wiles to save them. As the naïve girl and the seasoned sailor navigate one perilous situation after another, he informs Frederica that the only way they can survive is if he is in command, and that if she thinks things can be otherwise, she will be taken over his knee for a bare bottom spanking.

As he watches the proud, willful Frederica bow to his authority, however, Gaston worries that her growing hold on his heart will be his downfall. He knows he cannot take a woman with him when he returns to his ship and crew, but when Frederica accepts his lustful dominance completely, submitting to him with grace and beauty no other woman could match, Gaston realizes that he may never be able to let her go.

Publisher’s Note: Rescued by the Buccaneer is the first book of the Pirates of the Jolie Rouge trilogy. It is an adventure and erotic romance novel that includes spankings, sexual scenes including elements of BDSM and humiliation, and more.

You can find Rescued by the Buccaneer here:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/MIQL4h
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1dXBCU5
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/OWS1Tu
ARe: http://bit.ly/1hG7am4
Kobo: bit.ly/1hLLsfS

 

AllemanLogoSmallAbout the Author

A former psychologist, Normandie has always been fascinated by human behavior. She loves writing quirky characters that are all too human. Fiber arts, baking, and Pinterest are a few of her favorite pastimes. She lives on a farm with a passel of kids, an adorable husband, and a pet pig who’s crazy for Red Bull.

Find her here:

Twitter at @NormandieA  https://twitter.com/NormandieA
Pinterest at http://pinterest.com/NormandieA
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/NormandieAlleman
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Normandie-Alleman/e/B00BNUDVFW
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6893037.Normandie_Alleman
Her website: www.normandiealleman.com

 

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Defiant by Sabrina York

DefiantDEFIANT, by Sabrina York

Noble Passions, Book Five

When rakish Ned falls in with the wrong crowd, his brother decides to send him to the Continent for “seasoning”. For Sophia, this just won’t do. She’s loved Ned for ages—and also longed for adventure. She runs away from her boring suitors and disguises herself as a cabin boy on the Defiant, the ship sailing Ned to Italy.

Ned knows he’s not good enough for Sophia, but once they’re on the Defiant, he can’t stop himself from touching her, tasting her, loving her. Not when a wild tempest and a band of ruthless pirates threaten them. Not when every look from her gives him such pleasure. And certainly not when she comes, warm and wild and willing, to his bed.

If they survive their voyage, Sophia’s brother might kill him, but it will have been worth every moment and every hot, sweet kiss.

A Romantica® Regency historical erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Buy Links: Ellora’s Cave | Amazon UK | Amazon US

 

EXCERPT

Sophia stood on the bow of the boat in the dark as the wind and rain lashed her face. She loved it. Loved it. Not only was the storm elemental and fierce, it hid her tears.

Surely she hadn’t expected Ned to greet her with open arms. Not when she had barged in on his adventure as she had. But she certainly hadn’t expected him to be so horrid. His expression had devastated her.

Foolish girl, it said.

But then, her heart agreed.

She was foolish.

Foolish to ever think that he—

“You’re soaked.”

She whirled around, though she knew what she’d see. More glowering.

She was right.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m reveling.” She thrust out her chin, in case he didn’t believe her.

He gaped at her. “Reveling?”

“Yes.” She didn’t mean to shout, but his wintry demeanor annoyed her tremendously. She threw out her arms. “Look at this!”

“It’s a storm.”

“It’s beautiful. The waves are wild, untamed—”

“You could be swept overboard.”

“The wind is howling and the rain is savage. It’s glorious.”

“It’s freezing. Come inside.”

“It’s not freezing. It’s summer.”

I’m cold.”

“Then you go inside.”

“Sophia Fiona—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“It’s your name.”

“You sound like Ewan.”

“I’m starting to think Ewan is a saint.”

She glared at him. “What a beastly thing to say.” She hated that her chin wobbled a little. Hated that he winced.

“I’m sorry, Sophia. This has been trying for me.” He sluiced the water from his face. “Won’t you please come inside?”

“All right. Fine.”

“You will?”

“You did say please.”

He blew out a breath and offered her his arm. She frowned at it. “I’m a cabin boy, remember? You don’t offer a cabin boy your arm.” When he didn’t lower it, she smacked it. “Someone will see.”

That caught his attention and he slowly lowered his arm. “Right then. Come inside.” He followed her back to the cabin, his stride decidedly unsteady. If anyone was tipping overboard, it was most likely him.

When she once again stood in his chambers, she realized the folly of her actions. She hadn’t brought a change of clothes and she was drenched. So was he. Without a word, he relit the lamp and then opened his trunk and pulled out several shirts, two of which he tossed to her. “Change.”

That was it. One word. Just “change” and then he presented her with his back. She huffed a breath, but did as he asked because she was really rather cold. The feel of the cloth falling over her chilled flesh warmed her. Because it was his shirt. It had touched his skin. She wasn’t sure why the thought sent heat scudding through her belly.

“Use the other shirt to dry your hair,” he suggested, as he began toweling off as well.

She huffed a laugh. “All of your clothes will be wet.”

“They’ll dry. Are you clothed?”

“Yes.”

He turned. And froze. His gaze locked onto her bare legs. “I-I thought you said you were clothed.” A squawk.

“I am.” But the intensity of his stare made her self-conscious, so she slipped into the bed.

“Close your eyes,” he said as he unbuttoned the damp linen clinging to his chest.

“Why?”

“I need to change as well. I’m f-freezing.”

“Okay.” She did. But she peeked.

He ripped off his wet shirt and her breath caught at the sight of his broad back. Muscles rippled as he moved and she swallowed. He was beautiful. He tugged the fresh shirt over his head and she nearly whimpered as that magnificent vision disappeared. But then, he unfastened his trousers.

All pretense of not peeking evaporated.

He sat and took a moment to work off his boots. And then he stood. His trousers were tight, as was the fashion, and he had to peel them off. As he bent, she caught a flash of his bare behind.

She must have made a noise because he whirled around. His cheek bunched when he saw her watching. “You’re supposed to have your eyes closed.”

She hunkered in the covers, as though that would disguise the fact that her eyes were open wide.

“Sophia…”

It was probably wrong to grin at him, but she couldn’t help it.

“Sophia Fiona!”

“Stop calling me that. It always makes me think I’m in trouble.”

“You are in trouble. You have no idea how much trouble you’re in.”

She tipped her head to the side. “We both know Ewan will be so relieved to see me, he’ll forget how angry he is—”

Ned stilled and fixed her with a dark glare. “What makes you think I’m talking about Ewan?”

“I… ah…”

“I’ve a mind to bend you over my knee.”

Why a shiver rippled through her, she had no idea. She’d been spanked once or twice as a child and she hadn’t cared for it in the slightest. But something dark and domineering in Ned’s tone made her womb warm.

“You-you wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I? Now, look away. Your brother would skewer me if I gave you the education you’re about to have.”

She attempted not to snort. Ned—and everyone—thought her a prim and innocent miss on account of the polish she’d acquired at Lady Satterlee’s. Nothing could be further from the truth. As a child, before Ewan had made his fortune, they’d lived a hand-to-mouth existence in the slums of Perth. She’d seen more than one couple rutting against a wall in a dingy alleyway. And at one point, she and her brother had taken refuge in a bordello. She’d been only seven, but if she’d had an education, she got it there. She could probably teach Ned a few things.

Still, because he seemed to expect it, she squeezed her eyes tight and didn’t hardly peek at all as he finished changing. Besides which, the spot she was interested in was mostly shadows.

With a great huff, he threw himself back into the chair. “Now, go to sleep.”

“Don’t you want me to put out the light?”

“No. I want to be able to see where you are.”

“I’m not leaving again tonight.” Probably. Unless her despair overcame her once more.

“Leave it on.” A grunt, and not a very nice one at that. Why he had call to be annoyed, she couldn’t fathom.

Blast and damn, he was an annoying man. Sophia grunted as well and rolled over, facing the wall of the cabin. She studied the patterns the swinging lamp made for a long while, listening as he shifted one way and then the other.

It was really unfair for him to have to sleep in the chair. This was his room. But he would never share her bed. She grimaced at the way the words came out, but it was true. He wouldn’t. Unless…

She rolled over again and watched him twist in the chair. He caught her eye and frowned.

“Ned?”

An impatient groan. “Yes, Sophia?”

“Ned, I’m cold.”

He stilled. Then barked, “Put on another blanket.”

“There aren’t any more.” She faked a shiver. She wasn’t cold in the slightest. She never was. Ewan said she ran hot. “Brr. My teeth are chattering.”

His glower became a frown.

“I hope I don’t get ill.”

He paled. “You shouldn’t have gone out in the rain. Why did you go out in the rain?”

She sneezed. Or something like it. “I don’t know.”

“Sophia?”

“Am I running a fever?” She put her palm to her forehead. “I think I’m running a fever.”

His brow wrinkled. He stood and made his way across the tiny chamber as though on his death march. He set the backs of his fingers to her cheeks. His frown darkened. “You are warm.”

“No. I’m cold.” She shivered and peered up at him, her eyes as wide as she could make them. “Won’t you warm me?”

He wrenched his hand away as though she’d burned him. “What?”

“Lie here beside me and warm me up?”

“There’s not enough room for both of us.”

“I’m small.”

“Sophia.” She’d never heard her name in such a strangled voice, not even when Ewan was at his wit’s end.

“Just for a bit? You can be on top of the covers. Surely that is decent.”

The muscle in his cheek bunched again, as though he were grinding his teeth.

“Please?”

He gusted a sigh. “All right, Sophia. Scoot over and make room.”

She did. With alacrity.

“And roll over, facing the wall.”

She frowned at him “Why?”

“Just do it. Please.”

“Oh, all right.” But only because he said please. And because, when she was facing the other way, he couldn’t see her grin.

He settled in behind her and a shiver rocked her. He was warm. And he smelled delicious. Not fishy in the slightest. It was delightful, lying here with him. She closed her eyes and imagined he wanted this as much as she.

If only. If only.

 

Sabrina_head_logoAbout Sabrina York

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York is the award winning author of over 20 hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy erotic romance to scorching BDSM. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york, on Facebook or on Pintrest. Check out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on Amazon or wherever e-books are sold. Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Free Teaser Book: http://sabrinayork.com/home-2/sabrina-yorks-teaser-book/ And don’t forget to enter to win the royal tiara!

Turning Stereotypes on Their Ear by Sara Brookes (@sara_brookes)

WMS_blogtourI enjoy writing “different” stories that turn stereotypes on their ear. Riding Irish is no exception. This time, the girl is the one with the questionable past and the guy is the “good” guy. That isn’t to say Kane doesn’t have his darkness. At first, he struggles with the desires being near Avery causes him to experience. But have no fear, dearest reader, he comes around. *ahem*

 

Excerpt:

“You okay?”

She nodded, her arms still around his shoulders as she stood. Satisfied she’d recovered enough, he reached over and pooled liquid soap into his palm.

The strong fragrance of oakmoss filled the shower area.

Water pounded on his back as he wrapped his hand around her ankle and began washing her. He worked slowly, taking his time to thoroughly mark her in a different way.

She’d spend the rest of the day smelling like his soap.

“Insatiable in bed. Damn good with your hands—among other things—and you have a kick-ass shower.” She whistled as he skimmed his hands up her thigh and grazed his thumb over the side of her knee. Her eyes narrowed as she pushed her hand through his wet hair and tugged so his face tilted upward. “You, Mr. O’Hanlon, are lethal.”

He grinned up at her as his soap-slicked thumb brushed against her mound. “That’s the general idea.”

 

Riding IrishBlurb:

Mayhem is a way of life for Avery. The last thing she needs is a complication like Kane. The medal-winning swimmer who comes to her rescue is the ultimate golden boy. Everything this woman from the wrong side of the tracks shouldn’t want and everything she can’t stop thinking about. But emotion—and vulnerability—are liabilities she can’t afford.

Kane can’t understand why he experiences such dark, forbidden and kinky desires when he is around Avery. But her touch sparks a hunger deep inside him, and unleashes an erotic discovery where pain becomes pleasure. Their uninhibited passion reveals Kane’s dominant nature.

As Avery submits to Kane, exploring boundaries and pushing limits, she discovers a life she never expected. The unlikely pair forge a bond so tight, their unyielding trust gives way to a love like no other. But Avery’s brothers—members of Oahu’s most notorious motorcycle club—have other plans. Now Avery is forced to make a decision where her loyalty resides—with her family or with a lover who brings peace to the chaos surrounding her.

Warning: Ignition point hits hard and fast for this Dom and sub as an Irishman discovers his delightful talent for breath control, spankings and clothespins. You may just want laundry day to come more often.

Buy Links:
Loose Id
Amazon US
Amazon UK
All Romance eBooks
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Author Bio:

Sara Brookes is an award-winning author who has always been fascinated by the strange, the unusual, the twisted and the lost (tortured heroes are her personal favorite). She is an action movie junkie, addicted to coffee and has been known to stay up until the wee hours of the morning playing RPG video games. Despite all this, she is a romantic at heart and is always a sucker for an excellent love story. Born and bred in Virginia, Sara still lives there with her husband and daughter.

Author Links:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Sara_Brookes
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/brookesofbooks
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/authorsarabrookes
New Release Announcement List: http://eepurl.com/mbG31

 

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