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Cover Reveal: Bring On the Heat

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Bring On the Heat

A scorching collection from ten of today’s hottest authors

 

Title: Bring On the Heat

Genre: Erotic romance

Length: Approx 263k words

Release date: January 6, 2014

FB page: https://www.facebook.com/BringOnTheHeat

Bring On The Heat

Boxed Set:

Eden Bradley: Breaking Skye

Cassandra Carr: Caught

Stephanie Julian: An Indecent Proposition Part I

Amber Kallyn: Burned

Keira Kohl: Laundry day

Adriana Kraft: Cherry Tune-Up

Emma Lai: Riding Romeo

Anh Leod: Clockwork Captive

Ann Mayburn: First Kiss

Cari Quinn: Jingle Ball

A Dead Man’s Debt by Grace Elliot

A Dead Man's DebtBlurb

After publicly humiliating a suitor, Celeste Armitage is sent from the ton in disgrace. Exiled to the country she discovers a sketch book of nude studies and is shaken to discover the artist is her hostess’s eldest son, Ranulf Charing, Lord Cadnum. This darkly cynical lord is exactly the sort of dissipated rogue she most despises – and yet her blood heats at the thought of him!

Ranulf Charing, Lord Cadnum is being blackmailed over his late brother’s debts. Whilst visiting his mother, he discovers her new companion, Miss Celeste Armitage, to be a woman of unusual perception and starts to fall in love. But then the jealous fury of the blackmailer is unleashed and Cadnum must cast Celeste aside in order to protect her. However, in underestimating her resolve to clear his name – Cadnum places his true love in mortal danger…

 

Available from
Amazon US 
Amazon UK
Smashwords

 

Excerpt

So be it.  Cadnum gritted his teeth as he grasped the leading leg and pushed.  It was like fighting against a brick wall, the calf barely moving.  A lamb was difficult enough; how much more so a calf?  Just as he was wondering if one man was strong enough, a shower of pebbles rattled down the bank.  Concentrating on the calf, he barked to whomever approached, “Don’t just stand there.  Get down here!”

“I beg your pardon!” a woman’s voice answered.

With a flash of annoyance, he glanced upward.

A wide eyed young woman wearing a straw bonnet peered down.  “I say, is everything all right?”

“Does it look all right?” he muttered under his breath.  All he needed was some sensitive miss fainting on him.  “Go!  Fetch help from the house.”

He saw her hesitate, biting her top lip.  “But you need help now.”

A contraction clamped around his arm as the cow’s tail switched across his face, stinging his eyes like a cat-o-nine-tails.

In a flurry of muslin and lace, the miss slid down the bank, landing with a thud in the ditch.

“Ouch.”  She rubbed her ankle.

Cadnum glared back, dark eyes flashing.  “You should have gone to the house.”  Damn it all, she could make herself useful then.  “Hold the tail aside.”

Pulling a face, she limped over.  His gaze lingered; up close, she merited a second glance.  Of middle height with a tidy waist and curves where God intended them, she appeared quick-witted and bright-eyed.  Without further ado, she stripped off her gloves, throwing them onto a bramble bush.  Long, sensitive fingers grasped the muddy tail.

Practical, he thought, silently impressed.  “Why didn’t you go for help?”

“There isn’t time.”  Her bonnet slipped backwards, revealing a quirky face with a pointed chin, her lips finely drawn with an arched cupid’s bow.  The sort of face an artist could lose himself in; all shades of the sea were found in deep emerald eyes framed by a tangle of chestnut hair.

Cadnum tightened his grasp and pushed.  Sweat beading his brow.  The calf retreated an inch.

“What are you doing?”  Her voice was gentle and calm, if somewhat deep for a woman.

He guessed it would be husky in bed, whispering over a pillow after a night of passion.  Her eyes were on him, deep green eyes, lively and entrancing.  He suddenly remembered that he was undressed to the waist, her curious gaze on his skin as he imagined those lily-white hands gliding over his naked chest, her almond shaped nails digging into his skin.  He shook away the thought, trying to remember her question.

She watched with innocence and interest, blushing faintly in a charming way; and yet, he realized, she was no wilting flower.  He shook his head.  The woman had asked a question; damn it, he would answer.

“The calf is breech,” he grunted. “I need to push her back into the womb to turn her.”  He wanted to shock this stranger, to test how bold she truly was.

She stared back, biting her top lip, exaggerating her snub nose.  “Ah!”  Her gaze met his.

“Think of the calf as a carriage in a narrow driveway.  To turn it around, you push it back into the stable yard.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothing,” he growled.

Throwing him an angry look, she anchored the tail with a log and scrambled around to the beast’s head.  After a moment’s thought, she placed her pelisse under the cow’s head, stroking the broad nose and crooning words of comfort.

“She’s relaxing.”  Cadnum’s arm was numb from the contractions.  He fell forward as the first leg finally slid back into the womb.  “That helps.”  His hair had come free from the ribbon, falling thickly about his shoulders.  He glanced at the woman.  She was leaning forward, her bosom straining a tight bodice, a satisfying cleavage between her breasts.  He swallowed hard.  She was odd looking, he decided, not exactly beautiful but eye catching nonetheless.  Her face showed character and determination.  Her complexion was too healthy to be fashionable, all rosy cheeked and peppered with freckles.

The woman glared at him now, her skin glowing bright pink.  Had he been staring?  His heart raced as he returned to the calving.

Timing his efforts, he used all his strength to push the second leg back.  His shoulder felt as if it were being ripped from the socket.  With gritted teeth, he found a slippery hoof and clung to it, guiding it from the womb into the birth passage.  Grimacing with the effort, he found the other foreleg, dragging it forward to match its mate.  Pulling first one leg, then the other, he inched them forward.

The muscles of his back burned as he braced, digging his heels into the damp earth.  He pulled in time to the cow’s weakening contractions, but as her effort became more feeble, even that assistance was lost.  The beast lay stretched on her side, head extended, breathing erratically and growing weaker by the second.  It was going to be a close thing; all the effort would be for naught if he couldn’t pull the calf out soon.

After minutes of heaving, two small cream hooves presented themselves.  Cadnum sat back on his heels, sweat dripping into his eyes.  So intense had been his concentration that he’d completely forgotten the woman.  But there she was, slightly pale but watching him intently.

“I need your help…” It wasn’t so very difficult to say.  The woman nodded silently, her face so serious he almost laughed.  “The cow’s spent, she can’t push any more.  I need you to pull with me.”

Licking her lips she nodded weakly.

“Come here.  Grasp my waist.  Pull when I say.”

She stood and, with a whisper of skirts, was at his side.  As her arms wound hesitantly around his waist, he suppressed a shiver of excitement.  Her hands where peach soft and cool.  She smelled of lemongrass.

“Hold tight.”

The thin feminine arms around the hard plain of his belly made his body ache unexpectedly.

“Pull as hard as you can, when I say,” he barked more gruffly than he intended.  “Now.”

Digging his heels into the dirt, his muscles strained as he struggled to keep hold of the slippery hooves.  But his attention was not wholly on the calf as he became aware of the press of her breasts against his bare back, of her sweet warm breath against his neck.  If he wasn’t mistaken, he could feel her heart hammering against his ribs.

With a desperate heave, he pulled the calf and the woman pulled him.  The calf moved another few inches, the forelegs exposed to the wrist joint.

“Again,” he urged.

Another pull and half the forelegs were out.

“Stop.  I need to check if the calf’s head is coming nose forward.”

The woman released him.  Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed her pink tongue darted out of her mouth to moisten her dry lips.

Turning back to the cow, he knelt, feeling inside, satisfied that he could feel a muzzle lined neatly along the forelegs.

“Nearly there.”

The woman’s arms circled back around his waist, wiry with feminine strength.  This time they fitted snugly, her cheek against his back.  A ringlet had broken free of her chignon, brushing his skin.  His groin tightened—much to his annoyance.

“Ready?  Heave!”  Never had he been more glad of the distraction from a woman’s unnerving affect on his body.  He noticed her soft mossy eyes and sweetly tempting curves, yet her bravery and determination excited him most.  Innocent, yet bold.

The calf slithered free with a slippery suck, sliding to the ground in a flood of fluid and membranes.  Man and woman rolled backwards.  Cadnum landed on her skirts, pinning her down.  Her face was flushed, her pupils large.  He stared into her eyes, which were framed with thick dark lashes now modestly brushing her cheek.  He noticed her breathing heavily, a sheen of sweat on her neck, chest heaving.

Neither moved.

The temptation to lean forward and claim a kiss was dizzying.  It was like looking up at a high church tower against scudding clouds, making him giddy.

Scowling, he turned away.  When had he become such a cad that he’d consider taking advantage of an innocent stranger?  He deserved to be horse whipped.  It didn’t help that the throb in his groin reminded him of his weakness.

“The calf?” a small clear voice questioned.

It was a bull calf, steaming slightly in the cool morning air.  Hooking a finger in the calf’s mouth, he cleared away the mucus.

“The cord.  I need to tie off the cord.  Quick, find me something.”

With a whisper of satin, she held out the ribbon from her bonnet.

“Will this do?”

When she didn’t immediately release it, it occurred to him that she was waiting for him to say thank you.  He acquiesced.  With a humph she handed over the ribbon.

As he worked, she stood, regarding the newborn with wonder.  For some inexplicable reason he wanted to hold her tightly in his arms and smooth her hair, to kiss that perfect oval of a mouth.  Damn her for distracting him!

Cadnum rounded on her, squaring his bare chest.  She recoiled, threatened by his unabashed maleness.  She shrank back, making Cadnum angry at himself for frightening her.

“Well don’t just stand there, now go and fetch help!  Tell them to send men to the ditch between the five acre field and the hazel copse.”  Her presence had become intolerable, eating away at his self-control.  “Look sharp about it!”

She jumped and scrambled up the bank with a flash of neat ankle, but not before giving him on last angry glare.

A wave of heat washed over Ranulf, who silently gave thanks that her back was turned.  It was not his habit to ravish complete strangers, especially those so obviously gently born.  But for some reason that was exactly what he wanted to do to this mysterious chestnut haired stranger.  Only as she disappeared over the brow of the hill did it occur to him to inquire who this practical Miss was and what she was doing on his land.

Author Bio

Grace Elliot leads a double life as a veterinarian by day and author of historical romance by night. She is housekeeping staff to five cats, two teenage sons, one husband and a bearded dragon (not in order of importance)

Fall in Love with History (blog) http://graceelliot-author.blogspot.com

Newsletter sign up (quarterly)   http://bit.ly/V7T6Jd

Twitter:  @Grace_Elliot

FB page: https://www.facebook.com/GraceElliot2?v=wall&sk=wall

Guest Blogger: Iyana Jenna

A Midnight CallerLucy, I’d like to say thank you so much for having me on your blog. I would like to share with your readers my new m/m short story, A Midnight Caller, published by Bitten Press.

I’m a writer. Right?

I just read a blog post about how difficult it is for someone to show others that he is a proper writer. The blog writer said, rather sarcastically, that if he writes 1,000 words a day, then he is a real writer. It’s not enough that one is published because right now everyone can publish his own work.

My question is, why do you need to be called a proper writer? Aren’t you one already? You write something—doesn’t that make you a writer? Whatever you write, whoever reads it, wherever and however you share it, whether it’s for your own satisfaction or other people’s joy. And who says authors should publish books? What about those working for a magazine or newspaper? Script writers? Copy writers? They have the title ‘writer’ attached to their job already. They might not need to write 1,000 a day to show that they are writers.

Just do what you love to do. Write, and enjoy the ride. No matter whether others call you a writer or not.

A Midnight Caller

Summary:

Actor Ashley Ferguson had received several mysterious calls for the past couple of nights. The caller said he was also an actor. Ashley tried to find out who he was and guessed it was Colt Harper, a young actor whose show was also playing on TV. Ashley thought of reporting the calls to the cops several times but he kept delaying doing it.

One night after Ashley was finished shooting someone grabbed him in the parking lot. The man said he was the midnight caller. Ashley was afraid that his earlier guess was wrong and his decision not to report to the police would end up really bad for him.

 

Excerpt:

“Hey, I’m sorry, man…”

“And you said you’d call the next day but you didn’t.”

“Oh, were you expecting that? Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Shut up. I’m just so stupid. Get out of my life, okay?”

“Hey, wait. Please, I didn’t mean that. I’m so grateful you want to talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I know. I mean, thanks for giving me the chance to talk to you. By the way, Ashley…”

“Listen. You sound like a good kid. Why don’t you tell me your name and end all this weirdness?”

“And then we can meet?”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Don’t you want to see me?”

Available from:

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Barnes & Noble
Smashwords

 

About the Author:

Iyana lives in Jakarta, a city famous for its traffic jams, a lot of cars and motorcycles, and people selling stuff on the roads. You can spend two hours on the road going to a place you can reach in half an hour in a normal situation. Thanks to the traffic jams, though, Iyana can come up with a lot of stories, mostly shorties, as she prefers to spend the time during her trips writing into her cell phone rather than sleeping.

Another thing Iyana loves is kitties. Right now she has five of them. Their names are Larva, Nyil, Cil, Mermood, and Horus. When she doesn’t write, she plays with them, or they would play with her when she writes.

Author’s Links:

Blog
Website
Amazon
Goodreads
Facebook
Twitter

 

And GIVEAWAY. Enter the Rafflecopter below! 🙂

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The Exhibition, Book Three of The Executive Decisions Trilogy By Grace Marshall

Here’s yet another new release from a Brit Babe! This time it’s Grace Marshall, aka K D Grace, who’s serving up the goodies. This is the third part of her amazing Executive Decisions trilogy. I can’t wait to read it!

 

The ExhibitionBlurb:

Successful NYC gallery owner, Stacie Emerson, is ex-fiancée to one Thorne brother and ex-wife to the other. Though the three have made peace, Ellison Thorne’s friend, wildlife photographer, Harris Walker, still doesn’t like her. When Stacie convinces Harris to exhibit his work for the opening of her new gallery she never intended to include him in her other more hazardous plans. But when those plans draw the attention of dangerous business tycoon, Terrance Jamison, Harris comes to her aid. In the shadow of a threat only Stacie understands, can she dare let Harris into her life and make room for love?

 

Available from:

eBook:

Amazon UK
Amazon US

Print:

Amazon UK
Amazon US

 

Excerpt:

She stood to put her pack back on, and he came to his feet and caught her by the shoulder, not wanting it to end like this, not wanting her to leave until they were good again. When she tried to push him away, he pressed her between his body and the stone of the cliff face. ‘You can’t just shut us all out, Stacie.’

‘I never wanted you involved in the first place. I never wanted any of you involved but you couldn’t leave it alone,’ she jerked back against him but there was no place to go. ‘You couldn’t just let it go.’

He moved in closer until his body pressed up against hers, holding her tightly against the stone. ‘No, I couldn’t, and I can’t and neither can anyone else who cares about you and neither would you if the situation were reversed. So whether you like it or not, I’m here to stay. We’ve already discussed this, so get used to it.’ He punctuated his point with a harsh kiss that couldn’t have been very pleasant for her, but then he was angry, worried, scared for her. Instead of shoving at him as he’d expected her to do, she curled a hard fist in his hair and ravaged his mouth with every bit as much ferocity as he had given her, pulling him still closer, rubbing her body against his, making him instantly and startlingly erect.

She snaked a hand down between them and savaged his fly until he feared for what lay beneath, until her fingers wriggled and dug their way into his walking trousers to possess his cock with a tight grip as though it were a weapon, one she were about to use to do serious damage.

He fumbled to return the favour, with her ripping at her own fly to make room for him, to guide his fingers down over her mons. Her eyes locked his in a devastating gaze that felt as though she could see right through him. ‘I need you to touch me there.’ Her voice was a breathless whisper. ‘Where I’m wet, where I’m open, where I’m always, always hungry for you.’ Her breath caught; her eyelids fluttered and she sucked her bottom lip as he found her cleft, wet and open as she’d promised. ‘You can’t tell me you don’t want to be like those cats.’ She guided his hand still further and manipulated it until first two, then three fingers pressed up into her. ‘You can’t tell me that when I present myself to you all hot and ready and begging for it, you don’t want to service my need. You can’t tell me you don’t want to get a little primal with that cock of yours.’ She gave him a hard squeeze and drove her hand up and down his length, thumbing the already abundant pre-cum over and around the tip until he gritted his teeth and held his breath while his hips bucked hard against her efforts.

He scissored her deep with three fingers and raked the silky slickness of her up and over her clitoris, and the sounds from the back of her throat easily resembled the sounds the female cougar made when the male mounted her. They wildly, madly fucked each other’s hands. The wind had risen and even on the clear morning, the chill left no doubt about lingering for more than the quickest of releases. Then she shifted, pressed her back hard against the stone and rested both of her hands on his shoulders. Before he could protest the removal of her fingers from his cock, she wrapped her legs around his waist, her still clothed crotch rubbing tight and insanely hot against his exposed cock as she began to rock and gyrate, and it was all happening way too fast.

‘Stacie I –’

‘Shut up, Harris,’ she spoke between chattering teeth. ‘I need to come, and so do you. You can fuck me properly when we get back to the SUV. It’s too damn cold to linger.’ With each sentence she ground against him, baring down with the extra leverage the cliff at her back afforded and, almost before the words were out of her mouth, she convulsed. Her spine stiffened and her shivers had nothing to do with the cold. Harris could stand no more. He felt the eruption deep in his groin. It might have been embarrassing had the circumstances been different, but as he tried to cover himself, tried to hide the results of Stacie’s hard ride, she shoved his hand away, pushed him back and practically fell into the space between them positioning herself so that she caught his release, all of it in her mouth. What could he say to that? What could he do but hold her there, helplessly grunting the weight of his need into the back of her throat. It was an act as intimate and as primal as the cougars mating on the rocks minutes ago. And sex, any kind of sex, with Stacie Emerson was worlds apart from any other sexual experiences he’d ever had. As she stood and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, the look of hunger in her eyes, the promise of more sex to come in the SUV before the trip home couldn’t help but lighten the mood. As they straightened and tucked and donned their packs, he wondered if that was maybe why she did it. Whatever her reason, it definitely worked for him in ways he was still trying to get his head around.

 

britbabes_kink_hotnsaucy_3About Grace Marshall:

Grace Marshall lives in South England with her husband and the growing gang of hooligan birds who frequent their feeders. When Grace isn’t busy writing something sexy and romantic, she’s busy digging in her ever-expanding veg garden or walking across the British countryside. She finds inspiration outdoors in nature, and most of her best story ideas come to her while she’s walking or gardening.

Grace is the author of the fast paced, quirky Executive Decisions Trilogy published by Xcite Romance. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis and the final instalment of the trilogy, The Exhibition, are all now available at all your favourite book sellers with lots of romance and thrills served hot.

Grace Marshall’s alter-ego, K D Grace writes critically acclaimed, best-selling erotic romance. Whether it’s sexy romance or romantic sex, between The Graces, there’s a story for you.

 

Find Grace Here:

Websites:  http://gracemarshallromance.co.uk/

http://kdgrace.co.uk/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/GraceMarshall

http://www.facebook.com/KDGraceAuthor

Twitter:     http://twitter.com/GM_Romance

https://twitter.com/KD_Grace

Guest Blogger: Tracey H. Kitts

Have you ever had something you felt like you just had to do? Well, for me that was writing my own version of Dracula. I first read Bram Stoker’s Dracula when I was about twelve years old. I think it’s safe to say I have been obsessed with vampires ever since.

Dracula In the FleshMy biography doesn’t lie; I have always been drawn to the macabre with a fondness for anything with fangs. Even as a young child I was fascinated with werewolves, witches, and vampires. While other girls were playing “house” with their Barbies, I was playing, “Let’s bite Ken,” or “Ken is a werewolf.” Ha. Ha. Ha.

Like many classic villains, I never felt that Dracula had a fair shake, so to speak. In truth, I never saw him as a villain at all. For so long now he has been the man of my dreams. Maybe that’s why in my story Mina has dreamed of him all her life.

This story is more a part of me than I can fully describe. I feel like I’ve waited my whole life to write this book, as if I was working up to it.

A few people have asked me why I wrote this book as T.K. Hardin. Especially, since I still put my name (Tracey H. Kitts) so prominently on the cover. I have chosen to write this book as T.K. Hardin simply to let my regular readers know that this book is a change from the norm. Although there are elements of horror in many of my other books, they are not erotic horror stories. Normally, I write erotic paranormal romance. Though there is certainly a love story in Dracula: In The Flesh, there are also many other elements that might offend someone expecting something a bit milder. My beta readers loved the story just as well as my other books. However, I didn’t want anyone walking into this one without fair warning. Dracula: In The Flesh is not for the faint of heart.

Dracula: In The Flesh is what I believe the story should be. In one instant it is brutal, violent and frightening, and the next heartbreaking and romantic. I am thrilled to present this book to readers and I sincerely hope that everyone enjoys this story as I have.

Book Info:

Jonathan Harker, a young English lawyer, is traveling to Castle Dracula in order to finalize a real estate transaction. He has been personally requested by Count Dracula. What Jonathan doesn’t realize is that Dracula’s interests do not lie with him, but with his beautiful fiancée, Mina.

As soon as he saw her face, Dracula knew the ritual was a success. After all these long years, his love has returned to him. However, many things (such as Van Helsing and Jonathan Harker) stand in the way of their happiness. Sure, he could kill them all and take what he wants. However, his greatest desire is not to possess Mina, but to love her and have her return his love.

Therefore, Dracula’s fate and the fate of those closest to her lie in Mina’s hands. She has dreamed of him all her life. But what will she do when she learns her dark prince is real? What will happen when she knows him, not as a dream, but in the flesh?

WARNING: This book contains graphic violence, and graphic sex. This is NOT a romance novel, although there is a romance involved. This is Erotic Horror and might offend some readers.

Purchase your copy here:

Amazon US
Amazon UK

An Interview with Victoria Blisse

Please welcome my friend, fellow Northern Bird, fellow Brit Babe, fellow editor and co-author, Victoria Blisse. Wow, we do a lot together, don’t we? It must be a good sign that we’re not sick of each other yet 😉 Anyway, I interviewed Victoria about herself, her writing, her latest release and more, so check it out.

1. 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?

Okay, I’m Victoria Blisse. I love to bake, sew and read when I’m not writing and when I am writing I’m serving up sexy stories about Rubenesque beauties.  Writing is my life, as is being a wife and a mum. My guilty love is Strictly Come Dancing and if you want to buy me a sweet treat I love Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. Mmm, yum.

2. Give us the background on your latest release.

Sharing Nicely features not one but two hot billionaires with a curvy cutie who won’t take no for an answer. She gets these two sworn enemies to share nicely and both spend one night with her.

It was a fun novel to write and gave me an opportunity to write about a masquerade ball, something I’m fascinated by.

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

I’ve always written, well, since I was old enough to know how to. I’ve written stories and poems forever and got erotic about 12 years ago. I haven’t looked back since! I was first published in 2006 and now have over 50 stories out there and published ranging from short stories to novels.

4.  What are you currently working on?

I’m editing up a novella which I’m hoping to extend into a novel. Originally I wrote the novella in a weekend (yeah, really!) and I’m enjoying going back over it and expanding on it. The working title is Unscripted Desires and the story is set in a theatre.

5.  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 pick up inspiration everywhere and anywhere, often when I’m sitting on a bus or train, actually. My WIP has a hero who’s very similar in my mind to John Simm, better known as The Master from Doctor Who. Mmm, tasty.

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

In five years time I’ll have a daughter who’s finished secondary school, wow. I would like to see me still writing, being published and keeping my readers happy.

I love my life just as it is.

 

And now for some silly questions…

Muscled or skinny?   Love me some skinny goodness. Mmm.

Tall or short? Whichever way he comes. 😉

Boxers or briefs? Boxers

Moustache or beard? Neither *shudders* but if I have to choose, moustache.

Long hair or shaven head? Long Hair I reckon, something to hang on to.

Tattoos or piercings? Tattoos are pretty!

Intelligent or funny? Gah, can’t I have both? I do love a funny guy, though.

Blond, brunette or red head? I don’t care, really. I do have a soft spot for gingers though.

Hottest celebrity (tell us why, if you like)? I love David Tennent of Dr Who Fame. It’s all in the eyes.

Top same-sex crush (or opposite sex if you already like same-sex!) I would like Shakira to show me how to wiggle my hips like she does!

Most disliked celebrity (tell us why, if you like) Will Young, he sounds like a strangled cat!

Favourite food All of it! I do love cheesecake and meringue and chocolate and parsnips and…no, I can’t choose really.

Favourite book (tell us why, if you like) One? Just one? You cruel thing. Okay I’ll go with my favourite Romance, Jane Eyre.

Favourite place in the world (tell us why, if you like) Scarborough, the bestest Seaside town in the world. I’ve been there at least once a year since I was a kid.

Anything else you’d like to add?  Thanks for having me!

*****

Excerpt:

“So, are you two ready?” he asked. “I’ll get Chester to bring the limo round.”

“We can go in mine,” Darren snapped.

“Oh, don’t start this again.” I shook my head. “Decide nicely or I’ll be getting the damn Tube home.”

If the billionaires could be so abrupt with me, I’d be snappy with them.

“Fine,” Darren shrugged, “but we’re going back to my hotel.”

“Where are you staying?”

While the boys argued amongst themselves I took the date book and locked it away in my desk. I’d filled up a lot of the year and some dates had drifted into the next one. With the business I’d secured I was guaranteed to finish the fiscal year pleasantly in profit. I might even be able to afford a holiday. If I could persuade myself to stay away from Diamonds long enough.

When I walked back over to them the boys were silent.

“So, are we actually ready now?”

Greg reacted first, slipping his arm into mine and smiling.

“Yes, it seems me and Darren are staying at the same hotel.”

“Wonderful,” I smiled, intensely relieved. “Lead the way.”

Darren took hold of my other arm and we strode out together. I wasn’t expecting the barrage of flashing lights and yelled questions that greeted us. I supposed I had been a little naïve. The boys, with the aid of some huge security guards, pushed past the demands and we scooted into the back of a shiny black limousine. The mellow scent of leather filled the interior. Everything sparkled. I felt like we were in a separate car to the driver who was way, way down at the front.

“Are we going to the hotel, sir?” a polite voice asked. It sounded like it came from behind me, which was puzzling until I realised there was some kind of intercom device. Greg reached to the side of the limo and pressed a button.

“Yes, please, Chester.”

I would have liked more space to actually enjoy the ride home but I was crowded by two competing men and so spent my time flipping my gaze from one to the other, answering questions. Both were squeezed up close to me and both seemed determined to seduce me. I found that mind-spinningly crazy.

“What perfume are you wearing?” Darren ducked his head to sniff at my neck. I was very aware of his lips hovering just above my pulse point. I wished he’d kiss me there.

“Oh, I don’t know. Something fruity.” My mind went completely blank.

“You smell good enough to eat.” Darren continued and his lips did touch my skin but only for the briefest second. My whole body tightened at the gentle kiss.

“Your dress is beautiful.” It seemed Greg was not to be outdone—in fact he boldly ran his hand down my body from my shoulder, over my breast and lower. “I love the feel of velvet.”

“Thank you,” I squeaked then cleared my throat. “Thanks, I love velvet too.”

Tension zinged through me, sexual and otherwise. These two guys who I’d only just met were making me into a battlefield. They were warring to control me.

I wasn’t a woman who enjoyed being mollycoddled. I took decisions, I dived into situations and I expected all of my staff to be respectful to both men and women. I’d reprimanded several for sexism and would go as far as to sack someone if they didn’t change their ways. I should have been appalled by the situation—I wasn’t just a trophy or a business contract. I should have kicked up a fuss and left then and there.

But I didn’t. I liked being the centre of attention. I liked being the prize they both wanted.

I waited for the next move but we pulled up outside the hotel so I had to wait until we exited the car. Again, both men linked arms with me. It was cold outside but apart from the cool breeze on my cheeks I barely felt it because their hard bodies protected me from the elements.

They whisked me across the marble frontage, past the liveried doorman and into a huge reception area. It glittered with prestige and marble. Everything was perfect, neat and tidy. There was nothing overly ornate or showy but you could tell by the purposeful minimalism that this was a very classy place. The kind of place I’d only ever imagined visiting.

We moved across the hall into the bar. Again it was big, shiny but understated. The bar was long and all the staff behind it were in immaculately cut uniforms. They all looked smart and tidy and I looked on with envy. I wished I could get my own staff to look so impressive.

“What would you like to drink?” Darren asked and smirked at Greg.

“I’d love a glass of water, really,” I replied, “I’m so thirsty.”

“I’ll get them to send over some water too, but should we have some champagne? It was a very good night for us all after all.”

Both Darren and Greg had won awards and I was sure they’d both made several deals too as they played the room.

“Yes, why not?” Greg answered before me. “Champagne sounds good.”

When Darren moved away Greg turned to me.

“Look, Kerry, I really would love to spend the night with you but it is killing me to be nice to him.”

“This is you being nice?”

“Exactly.” He almost smiled. I found it surprisingly endearing. “Please can we dump the other guy?”

“No.” I was very firm, it surprised even me. “No, I said I wanted to spend time with you both, so that is what’s going to happen. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

“God, woman. You’re infuriatingly stubborn.” He growled.

“Now that is a case of the pot calling the kettle black.” I laughed.

Greg sighed. “I’m not used to being told what to do, Kerry. I’m the one in control.”

“I’d noticed, but if you want me, you play by my rules.” It was fun playing him at his own game.

“Oh, I want you.” His growl turned to a gravelly purr. It wasn’t cute, it was the noise of a killer beast merely at rest. Any moment he could pounce and rip me apart. It turned me on. I wriggled in my seat and my damp knickers chafed against my plump lips.

“Then you’ll share nicely.” I leaned in and kissed him. He was shocked, almost as much as I was. His lips were hard and ungiving for a moment—I thought maybe I’d pushed him too far—but then they melted, opened and pushed back and I felt his pent-up arousal running into me. I released my frustrated desire with every move of my lips.

We pulled apart and I had to pant to regain my breath while he licked his lips like he was savouring the taste.

“I’ll do it for you,” he said. I was intoxicated with the power of having him under my control.

“Hey, I want one too.” Darren came back, placed a glass of water before me and pressed his lips to mine. His were plump and giving. He prodded his tongue between my lips, into my mouth, taking control of the kiss and control of me. I felt like I might explode into a million pieces. I hadn’t been kissed in months and now I’d had two smoking hot smooches in as many minutes from two very hot but very different men.

“Okay,” I gasped when he pulled away, “now you’re even.”

The guys glowered at each other. I looked around the room to calm my nerves. Not a single person looked at us. Obviously such things happened often in bars of high-class hotels. It didn’t happen often to me. At all, in fact. I wondered if I was dreaming. I pinched my thigh below the table. It hurt. I definitely wasn’t dreaming.

A tall, skinny waiter brought us a bottle of champagne stood in a silver ice bucket. Balanced on his tray were three tall flutes. He transferred everything to our table with great pomp. I was in awe of his skill.

“Thank you,” I called. He nodded his head politely and walked off.

I knew a little about wine and champagne, only because my barman told me what I needed to order. The champagne in the bucket was clearly expensive—I’d never even heard of the name—and it was suitably French, obviously. I was sure Darren had ordered the most expensive in the place just to outdo Greg. I outdid both of them by just sipping at my water.

“Shall we take the rest of the bottle to my room?”

I nearly choked when I heard what Greg had said.

“Pardon?”

“Well, you wanted us to share nicely and I don’t think that even in an establishment like this where confidentiality is taken seriously we could share you, nicely or otherwise, right here in the bar.”

It took a moment to register that Greg Stamford, billionaire high-flyer and serious hottie, was propositioning me for a threesome. I’d agreed to it earlier, but it still seemed too much like a fairy tale to be actually real.

“I agree, mate. We’d get chucked out. Want to go to my room? It’s the Ambassador Suite.” Darren announced this like I should be impressed. Maybe it was the most expensive room in the hotel? I wasn’t sure.

“My room has the best view over the city,” Greg snapped.

“Yes, that’s what they tell people who can’t get in the Ambassador Suite.”

“Boys, stop it.” My voice was quite loud. The low murmur of conversation stopped for a moment, then carried on.

“Look. You are both very rich, I get it. You both want to be top dog, I get that too, but would you stop bickering like bloody schoolboys, okay? I am very flattered, truly, and I never in a million years would have imagined being in this situation…” I left the sentence hanging and gathered my thoughts.

“Please don’t say no.” Darren’s smile dissipated. “I’m sorry.”

“Well—” I tried to continue with my tirade. I had the moral high ground. I was going to say thanks but no thanks and leave both gentleman hanging, but say that I hoped they’d both still honour their bookings. I was going to make a stand, I really was. Then… Well, I’m not quite sure what happened.

“I’m sorry too,” Greg added. “We’re just billionaires used to getting our own way. Let’s go to the Ambassador Suite, it’s a lovely room.”

Had I heard that right? Had Greg Stamford apologised and ceded to his most hated rival?

“Yes, let’s,” Darren nodded. “Please, Kerry?”

I challenge any woman alive to not cave in when hit with not one but two sets of puppy dog eyes from intensely handsome men. I couldn’t do it.

“Come on then,” I whispered, “lead the way.”

*****

Sharing NicelyTwo hot, sexy billionaires know what they want and they want her, but will they be happy to share nicely?

Kerry Matthews is used to stress—she runs her own high-end London club called Diamonds, but what she isn’t used to is attention from two very persuasive and powerful men.

Darren Bennett and Greg Stamford are life-long rivals, but call a truce to spend one night with sassy, curvy Kerry. They’re not content to share forever though. They both have a selfish desire to possess her completely.

Darren buys her seductive lingerie, flowers and chocolates, Greg flies her to Paris for a romantic break, cleans her flat and makes her breakfast in bed. Both vying to cement their place in her heart. She needs to decide between them but is dazzled by their persuasive personas and extravagant gifts.

Reader Advisory: This book contains a scene of MFM Ménage and some violence.

Book Link: http://victoriablisse.co.uk/books/sharing-nicely

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Victoria BlisseBio:

Victoria Blisse is a Mother, Wife, Christian, Manchester United Fan and Award Winning Erotica Authoress. She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, and the co-editor of the fabulous Smut Alfresco and Smut in the City and Smut by the Sea Anthologies.

Victoria is also one of the brains behind the fabulous Smut by the Sea Event taking place at Scarborough Library (UK) on the 22nd June 2013. A day dedicated to Erotica with a mini erotic marketplace and lots of Author Readings, Fun Giveaways and Exciting Talks.

She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker (She is TEB’s Resident “Naked Chef”) and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories.

Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.

You can find often find Victoria procrastinating on Facebook http://facebook.com/victoriablisse , Twitter http://twitter.com/victoriablisse  and Pinterest http://pinterest.com/victoriablisse

To find out more check out http://victoriablisse.co.uk

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