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Passion, Pleasure, Pain – An Anthology for Doris O’Connor #WeLoveDoris #fuckcancer

Hi all,

I’m both saddened and delighted to be spotlighting this newly-released anthology. It was put together to benefit a friend of mine who was, at the time, battling cancer – Doris O’Connor. Sadly, while the behind the scenes work was being done, Doris passed away – taken far, far too soon. However, the project continued and now all proceeds will go directly to her lovely family. So, if you enjoy sexy tales of BDSM, you should definitely grab this collection as you’ll be getting an amazing read as well as benefiting Doris’s husband and children. What could be better than that?

Blurb:

In each other they found the piece of themselves they hadn’t even realized was missing.

This D/s anthology was put together by writers who hold author, Doris O’Connor, near and dear to their hearts because the genre is one that was near and dear to Doris as an author. We’ve all been touched by Doris as writers and as friends, and wanted to do something to honor her in the only way we can – with our words.

All proceeds from the sale of this anthology will go to Doris’ family because as Doris, herself, always said: #F*CKCANCER

#WeLoveDoris

Buy links:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Barnes & Noble
Google Play
iBooks UK
iBooks US
Kobo
Smashwords

Happy Reading,

Lucy x

Festive Goodness from Doris O’Connor and Raven McAllan (@mamad8 @ravenmcallan)

banner jo and me

Thanks so much for having the lovely Raven and me on your blog today. You know, we often talked about writing a book together, but that’s as far as it went. Then our reader group The RavdorChicks started nagging us—in the nicest possible way of course—that they would love us to write a story together.

So, after much frantic skype messaging, where we brainstormed ideas, and one very sleepless night from me, when the start of a workable story actually came to me, the idea was born.

What followed was a fun filled four days with Raven in Scotland, where we put our heads down, fuelled by wine, chocolate, and Gin&Tonics, and our fingers flew.

We had so much fun writing this story I can say this won’t be our last collaboration.  We hope readers will like The Dukes’ Christmas Abductions as much as we loved writing this story.

Much love from both of us!

Stay naughty now, folks.

D & R xxx

 

The Dukes' Christmas AbductionBlurb:

Follow your heart and cross space and time…

When Clara lands the job as curator of Faversham House it’s a dream come true. Especially when her favorite Regency Erotica writer Vicky Hopewell shadows her in the run up to the annual estate ball—a tradition left over from Regency times.

The costume ball is always the highlight of the year, but neither woman expects to be confronted by two drop dead gorgeous Dukes.

Daniel Danvers, the Duke of Hockwell thinks Clara is one of the servants invited to the estate ball.

Kit Capel, the Duke of Aulban cannot understand why his wife Victoria acts as though she doesn’t know him.

As both couples slowly come to terms with the reality of their situations, can they find happiness? Is it as simple as following your heart?

Be Warned: bondage, spanking

Buy it from: Evernight  Amazon   Amazon UK ARe  Bookstrand

 

Excerpt (18+):

Daniel paused mid swatting the delectable arse in front of him to rub, what must be a considerable ache by now, away. His quarry had stopped screaming for this Vicky, at last, and unless his senses were completely off, she was starting to enjoy his attention. Certainly her breaths were coming in short gasps, and instead of struggling, she was raising her bottom into every carefully placed swat of his hand.

The evening was definitely looking up. As was his cock, which was in danger of splitting his evening breeches.

There was one way to find out for sure. Daniel slipped his fingers under the hideous undergarments, and smirked at the all over body shiver his girl gave. Satisfied with not only her reaction but also by the wet, hair-free cunt he found, he let his digits linger.

“Oh, god.”

Her breathless moan spurred him on, and he grinned when he found her hidden pearl. She shivered again when he circled the tight nub, and Daniel set up lazy circles, designed to drive any woman wild. This chit proved no exception. The air grew heavy with the musk of aroused woman, and Daniel inhaled deeply, before he stopped the movement.

A strangled groan escaped his girl, and he tapped her arse again, when she tried to rub her cunt on his fingers.

“Oh, no, you don’t. I want the truth, starting with your name, and maybe then I’ll let you find release. Only on my say so, though, are we clear here, girl?”

“Fuck, yes … ow.”

Her arse cheeks wobbled most satisfactorily, when he yanked that odd fabric down to her knees, and delivered a few more swats to her delectable arse. The woman had a derriere made for fucking, hips to grab onto while he sunk his cock into her body and claimed what was his. That thought made his head come up. His? He had no business having proprietary thoughts toward a servant like that.

“Fuck, we most certainly will, but not without you telling me who you are, so…” He delivered another open handed swat across both of her arse cheeks this time, and her answering deep throated moan made him go so hard it was a wonder he hadn’t spilled in his breeches yet.

“Clara, Sir. My name is Clara.”

Daniel slid his fingers through her sodden slit, and flicked her nub once, causing her to give another one of those cock hardening moans.

“Very nice, but the correct address would be my lord, chit, would it not?”

A strangled groan was his response this time, and when he withdrew his fingers again, she slumped.

“Sorry, My Lord.

The girl, Clara, he mentally amended, had fire, that was for sure, if the intonation she gave his title was anything to go by. A certain amount of boldness was something Daniel certainly appreciated in his bed partners. If Clara was a lady’s maid, she was wasted in that position. As his mistress, however…  His mood improved dramatically as that thought took hold.

It was Christmas, time to be charitable and all that went with such bounty, and what could be better than elevating this lovely creature from her status of mere servant to his mistress.

Mind thus made up, it was time to taste her nectar and to see if what he was suspecting would be true. That Clara and he would mesh perfectly in the bedroom, and he could let his darker desires shine through.

He indulged himself by sliding several digits through her wet cunt, lubricating them with her juices, before he slipped one finger into her tight channel, and brought his thumb to press against the puckered hole, guarding that entrance.

Clara stiffened slightly, but she didn’t voice any protest, and when he started to thrust the finger in her cunt slowly in and out of her, she gasped. Her hips rose in involuntary jerks, which told him how close she already was to exploding under his ministrations. Her untutored responses made him want to hurry this along, but Daniel was never an inconsiderate lover. He would give her several releases before he claimed his own.

“Good girl, and who do you work for?”

Clara moaned and writhed against him, her internal muscles fluttering around his fingers in rippling moves, which signaled her impending orgasm as clearly as the rosy flush spreading across her skin. So beautifully responsive. She jerked when he tapped her nub, and then withdrew his hand.

“Faversham Estate. Oh god, please, My Lord … I.” The rest of her pretty little plea was lost in a screech as he swung her off his lap and onto his bed.  Her breasts bounced most satisfactorily, and her lovely almond shaped green eyes widened further when he crawled onto the bed with her, and straddled her midriff. Daniel grasped her arms and brought them high above her head. The action made her breasts rise up in silent offering, and Daniel smirked.

“Hmm, that would mean you work for me. How delightful. Whatever position you hold here, I much prefer you in this one, unable to move and at my mercy. I’m going to tie your wrists together and tether you to one of the posts, sweet Clara. Is that acceptable to you?”

*****

About the Authors:

Doris O’Connor

Doris is a writer of sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get.  From contemporary to paranormal, Time Travel, Sci-fi, BDSM, F/F, M/M, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.

Happily married for the last twenty-five years, she lives with her husband and their brood of nine in a far too small house filled with love, laughter, and chaos.

Stalk her in these places    

Website  Reader Group Tsu Twitter  Facebook Pinterest  Evernight Publishing Amazon All Romance E-Books BookStrand Barnes&Noble

 

Raven McAllan

Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.

She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge.

A lover of reading, she appreciates the history inside a book, and the chance to peek into the lives of those from years ago. Raven admits that she enjoys the research for her books almost as much as the writing; so much so, that sometimes she realizes she’s strayed way past the information she needs to know, and not a paragraph has been added to her WIP.

She admits she’s no domestic goddess, and wonders why tourists think she might run the local bed and breakfast. She doesn’t.

Her lovely long-suffering husband is learning to love the dust bunnies, work the Aga, and be on stand-by with a glass of wine.

Stalk her in these places

Website  Amazon  Facebook Facebook (Author Page) ARe  Bookstrand  Twitter

Raven McAllan Talks Secrets

I love reading a series. Where I get the chance to meet new characters but be reacquainted with old ones.

So, I guess it was inevitable that once I found my voice and started to write, I’d enjoy writing series as well as reading them.

Diomhair, Gaelic for secret, began as a tiny seed of an idea, when I passed a ruined castle not far from where I live. In my mind, I could see it repaired and ready to be used for…

For…

My mind went into overdrive. For a private BDSM club.

Once I thought that ideas hit me thick and fast. I went back to make sure it was really what I had in mind, and on my way out of the driveway, a white van came round the corner and missed me by inches.

The mystery was born.

So here we are at book four, Secrets Dispatched. Each book can be read as a standalone and shouldn’t spoil the others for you. The only real, common thread is *cue drum roll* the white van.

So Mr White Van Man, really your awful driving did me a favor. But you also took ten years off my life, so hey, don’t make a habit of it eh?

 

Secrets DispatchedBlurb…

What’s a girl to do when she finds herself stranded in a snow storm, in a BDSM club in a castle, with a Dom she’s lusted after for years?

At some time in their life, everyone has choices to make.

For Shane it could be a chance to rediscover her love of kink.

For Ross it’s the chance to tempt her to be his kitten

But Shane has to settle some demons before she can move forward.

Until then, well a little playing wouldn’t matter—would it?

However, play can become serious, and decisions have to be made that could change both their lives for ever.

This is their chance, to be together as Dom and sub or wave goodbye. But at Diomhair, nothing is as straightforward as you hoped, and Ross and Shane have a lot to do, before they can say yes…or no.

 

And a wee tease…

However, the one problem with sleet, Shane decided ten minutes later, was that it turned to snow. Heavy fat flakes that rapidly covered the windscreen, which the wipers had a hard time to dispel. Snow wasn’t something she encountered very often.  By then, she was travelling along a narrow drive, which according to the now annoyingly cheerful Sally, and a tiny discrete plaque on the gatepost, was the entrance to Diomhair, and was a private road—no trespassers. It was irritating to have to get out of the car to brush the snow off to read it, and debate on the wisdom of turning on to it. However, Shane was sure she’d read somewhere that there was no law of trespass in Scotland, even if Katrine hadn’t actually agreed with her when she’d asked the question earlier. Therefor, she ignored that bit as a warning to tourists and itinerant sales people.

Do you even get those these days? Isn’t it all telephone calls and spam emails? She was somewhat hazy on the subject and after all this was Scotland, not Australia. How was the net around here? Her phone, as well as the one she’d borrowed from the hotel was hovering on one bar of reception, and the radio in the car delivered very little music and almost total static.

Shane rounded a bend with care, and was relieved she had done so when the back of the car fishtailed and slid into a skid. She drove into the skid with competence and corrected it. She wasn’t an outback girl for nothing, even if she did live in the city now.

Ahead, almost hidden in the gloom, she could just make out a tall dark stone building with a turret.

A turret? Wow. It was a real castle it seemed and not some mock Victorian monstrosity. Shane hadn’t had time to research the history, or even if this Jess lived in it as her private home. Was it one house or apartments? Was it offices and a health club as well? Whatever it was, it was big and imposing and austere against the white of the snow. Shane fell in love with it there and then. How fantastic to live in it in any way.

The brief information she’d found on the net had been vague in the extreme. The car lurched over some unseen object, well hidden in the snow, and Shane brought her mind back to the alleged roadway. Wool gathering wasn’t a good idea in that sort of weather. She realised she was probably driving over the verge and not on the tarmac surface. If it was even tarmac, she had no way of knowing.

With hindsight she regretted setting off from the hotel without bringing an insulated mug of tea or one of the delicious looking cookies she’d spied to sustain her. Even though she’d had that big breakfast not long before her tummy rumbled and her mouth was dry. Apprehension or Excitement? A bit of both probably.

Nevertheless, by the time she pulled up outside a big wooden door, she was shaking and it wasn’t all down to the weather and lack of food. She decided she was scared. Scared that Jess might not be there, scared she was. Scared that Jess would hate her, not be prepared to talk and leave Shane unable to find completion. Shane switched off the engine, and watched the snow fall. It better slow down soon, or she’d be hiking back. Was it quicker cross country? How dare the snow defy the weathermen and come a day too soon?

Wuss, get out of the car. Or turn on the engine and go away for good and try to enjoy a cold wet holiday. She took a deep breath, did her coat up, pulled her hood over her head and stepped out of the vehicle. A blast of icy wind rocked her on her heels and almost took her breath away. The temperature had dropped considerably, and the snow was now so heavy her tyre tracks were almost obliterated.

Shane hoped to hell someone was at home, or she’d more than likely be found in spring as a frozen corpse inside her buried car. She moved toward the castle door with her breath making white, misty, spirals in the air and with snowflakes on her eyelashes. Thank goodness for contact lenses. Specs would be useless. Mind you she patted her pocket to make sure her lenses case and her glasses were there. She’d lost too many lenses in the past and ended up half blind not to carry specs around, annoying though it might be.

She looked at the walls of the castle and groaned. She had to get in there? Why not try something less challenging like breaking into the Royal mint wrestling with a croc.

 Okay you can do it. Deep breath and go.

The snow was piled up higher near those forbidding walls and even though she only had a few yards to trudge through it, her jeans were soaked by the time she searched for the doorbell. To her amusement it was an old fashioned tug rope type. Not that she felt much amused. Pissed more like. Could they not have an ordinary bell like everyone else? It would take a giant to get a good sound from it, not a five foot something woman.

She hauled and after a second or two, heard a deep clang echo inside the building.

“Come on, hurry up.” Shane pulled the bell again. “Please, please someone answer the bloody door.” She stamped her feet, and for the first time thought what an idiot she’d been to continue her journey to the castle once the snow started. Shane dipped her head to pull her hood further over her head in a vain effort to keep her hair dry. Already frizz-head hair had begun, and she’d have a devil of a job with it once she got it dried again. Not for the first time, Shane wished she’d kept it short in the style she’d cut it after the asshole experience, as she now called it. Instead, she let it grow, more as a way to show herself that Poisonous Pete the Plonker and his only long hair is acceptable diktat, wasn’t why it was long. The one thing she did do now, which he’d objected to, was using straighteners on it. Hence knowing that all her hard work was about to be ruined if no one answered the door.

“For fuck sake, open won’t you. What if I say open sesame? Or get on my knees and beg? Will that work?”

There was a grating noise, and a blast of heat hit her. Before Shane looked up someone spoke.

“Open sesame won’t. But I do like the idea of you on your knees and begging. I won’t make you do in in the snow though.”

 

Secrets Dispatched is available from: https://www.totallybound.com/secrets-dispatched

Tomorrow it goes on general release and it will be available in paperback in Diomhair Vol 2

Happy days

Raven

His Boss, Her Dom by Raven McAllan

His Boss, Her DomBlurb

Having a relationship with your boss is never easy, especially when it involves kink. Jamie might need to salute Eva and call her Ma’am at work, but when it’s just the two of them, he is Master to his puss.

They are determined to make their unusual situation work, but, first they have to solve the case of the shady next door neighbors.

Available from: Amazon UK | Amazon US | All Romance eBooks | BookStrand | Evernight Publishing

 

Excerpt:

Every fiber of her subbie being wanted to kneel and ask to submit to him. But as the letter told her she was to take another week’s leave, and have a ‘dalliance’ with the new postie, she’d need to be careful. A dalliance in the name of work was one thing. A dalliance because she wanted to submit to him was another. She was still his superior officer, and in charge of this case, or whatever they chose to call it. Case was a bit of a misnomer. All she’d mentioned was a lot of very expensive top of the range cars were driving up the lane, and the same cars weren’t coming back. It seemed that had interested some people in the force, hence Jamie the new postie, who filled his uniform rather nicely.

Mind you if I remember rightly, he fills his police one to perfection as well. Shit he’s young though. Cougar is okay, right? Well it doesn’t matter in the lifestyle so sod it. But this isn’t the lifestyle or Dommissimma. She put the dog down and watched abstractedly, as he turned around in circles and settled in his basket. Then she went on with her internal argument.

Damn it, does dalliance cover a bit of subbing? Probably not, more’s the pity. And he doesn’t recognize me anyway. It was probably just as well. To be the superior to the guy who had you almost bare ass naked strapped over a spanking bench and flogging you until you flew, could cause a few problems. Best not to bring it up unless he did. Not until after. If, she thought despondently, there was any chance of an after. He might throw a wobbly because she hadn’t been open and honest with him. After all, he was a Dom, and even in the short time she’d played with him in Dommissimma, the BDSM club she went to in Glasgow whenever she got the chance—which wasn’t often—she knew damn well he was a good one.

Why is life so bloody complicated? Oh fuck it. Eva decided it was time to pull up her big girl panties and get over her mump. She’d always been a sub, never wanted to be a Domme, and was happy and comfortable with that. However that part of her was separate from her work persona where she was in charge. There she was his superior officer—even if only for the time being—and she couldn’t forget it.

Later, was later, as her cliché-ridden boss had a penchant for saying, along with, ‘now was now’, and ‘no time like the present’. As well as ‘priorities take precedent’. Which was so bloody obvious that Eva always wanted to snigger when she heard him utter it.

She rummaged in the fridge and found the ingredients to make paella. If Jamie didn’t like seafood he could have a quiche. The garlic made her pause for a second, but not to put it in, on the off chance of getting close up and personal, was stupid. It was work, not play of any kind. However, just thinking about playing with Jamie, Master Jamie, made her knickers wet. Eva gave into temptation, put the paella in the bottom, simmering oven of the Aga and took herself upstairs for a short and fast session with her bullet. It took three climaxes before she was sobbing and spent and slumped limply on the bed. The memories of his crop on her ass, and the tight nipple clamps he attached to her nubs, and linked them with a chain he attached to her clit and pulled on to apply pain, featured in most of her wet dreams and climax inducing fantasies. This had been no exception. Her pussy was soaked and her juices coated her thighs and the fingers she’d used to help her bullet, and increase stimulation. The pulse between her cunt and ass throbbed hard and with each beat, more of her juices spurted out. She hadn’t come so hard, or needed to, for many a long month. Work had been so demanding the nearest she’d had to a wet dream had been falling asleep in the bath.

Now, with the reappearance of Jamie, it seemed that her libido roared back with a vengeance. She could only hope it stayed that way, and every climax wasn’t a solo one.

 

Hair july 14Author Bio:

Well what can I say?

I’m growing old disgracefully and loving it.

Dh and I live on the edge of a Scottish forest, and rattle around in a house much too big for us.

Our kids have grown up and flown the nest, but roll back up when they want to take a deep breath and smell the daisies so to speak.

I write in my study, which overlooks the garden and the lane. I’m often seen procrastinating, by checking out the wild life, looking—only looking—at the ironing basket and assuring tourists that indeed, I’m not the bed and breakfast. That would mean cooking fried eggs without breaking the yolks, and disturbing the dust bunnies as they procreate under the beds. Not to be thought of.

Being able to do what I love, and knowing people get pleasure from my writing is fantastic. Long may it last.

***

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Changing Characters… Or Not by Raven McAllan

Nina's DomIt’s funny how my characters tell me very firmly who they are, what they are and insist I write just that. No trying to change them. It just won’t work.

By trial and error, I’ve now accepted that.

Nina and Dominic were no exception. In fact I wondered at times if they would ever get together, they were so blooming stubborn.

However they had fun trying to show each other whom they were and want they wanted.

I just wrote what they told me to—as you do.

This is the result.

 

Blurb:

Nina Mack is no sub. So why then do all her senses scream at her to submit to the enigmatic Dominic Christopher?

When the two meet at her friend’s hen party at Dommissimma, sparks fly. Their attraction is immediate and explosive, but how can Nina ever allow herself to enter into a relationship with a Dom?

Dominic has lost interest in BDSM since the death of his wife, so the insistent tug of awareness toward the volatile and decidedly bratty Nina is a welcome surprise.

With his inner Dom firmly awakened can he convince Nina to give their relationship a try?

Time will tell if these two can find their own Dom/sub relationship and reclaim happiness.

 

A wee tease for you…

Nic held out his hand for the keys, and after a brief startled glance, Nina passed them to him. He locked the door and handed them back. She tucked them inside her handbag.

“Why did you do that?” Nina asked once she was inside the car with him. “Lock my door? I’ve been doing it for years.”

“Good.” Nic checked the flow of traffic and overtook a bus. “And when we’re together I’ll do it for you.”

“But why?” Nina asked again. “Why not just let me lock up?”

There’s that word again.

“I swear the first word you ever spoke was why,” Nic said as he turned the car into the street where Dommissimma was situated. “And I bet it will be your last. I agree that to question things you don’t understand is a good thing, but by heck, Nina, you’d even question why I asked for dark chocolate not milk.”

“No, I wouldn’t then,” she said in a triumphant tone. “Because dark chocolate helps to control the sub drop a sub might get after a scene. Or a Dom for that matter.” She didn’t add so there, but Nic could hear it inferred in her voice.

“Good. I’ve found one action you won’t question. I wonder if there’s any more?” He stopped the car in the half empty car park and switched of the engine. “Not too busy, but it looks like there’ll be enough going on so you’ll be able to gauge your reactions. Let me come ‘round and help you out. And before you say anything, that, plus locking your door are just some of those common courtesies we spoke of over the phone. To me I don’t do it as a Dom, I do it as a man.”

“I might question it, the chocolate. I’d wonder who it was for.” Nina said as they approached the nondescript door to Dommissimma. “Seeing as we’re not scening.”

“Not at the moment.” Nic agreed with her. “But who knows when we might need it.” He looked at her pale face. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I don’t want you passing out or anything.” Her pallor worried him. He hoped she wasn’t anemic.

“What?” She sounded surprised. “I’m fine, why?”?”You’re as white as a sheet.”?”I usually am,” Nina said. “But in this case I think it’s hunger, worry I might let you down rather than natural Celtic pale skin, and oh sh—oot, I recognize that car.” Nina waved toward a dark saloon in the corner of the car park. “Beware of nosy Doms. That’s Edan’s, and if he’s here it’s a shoe in Athol will be as well.”

“Why are you hungry?” Nic honed in on her first reason.

“Running late, apprehension, forgot to buy bread, take your pick. And now a crowing Athol.”

Nic grinned and kissed her nose. She wrinkled it. “That tickles.”

“It’ll be directed at me as well as you, anima mia. I’ve only been around when needed these last few years. And there’s no need to be apprehensive. We’re not scening, and you said nothing frightened you, just that it wasn’t your thing, so why worry?”

“I didn’t say it was logical,” Nina said. “I can’t explain it, there’s no logical explanation, in fact no explanation at all. It makes no sense, but it’s how I feel.” She bit her lip and gave a deprecating smile. “Stupid or what?”

Nic tugged her to one side of the door. “Not stupid. But I’m going to do my damnedest to change how you feel. Nina, love, nothing you can say or do will let me down.” Unless it’s let’s get out of here, or I don’t want to see you again, Nic. “Remember you can safe word me over anything. And a nip just here,” he put her thumb and forefinger on the back of his hand, “will alert me if something is bothering you and we need to move away and talk. Yes?”

“Yes.”?”Then are you ready?”?Nina blinked and squared her shoulders. “Yes, Sir, I’m ready.”

He could see her mindset changing as she spoke.?”Then let’s go in.”

***

Available from:
Evernight Publishing
Amazon UK
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks
Bookstrand

and me… www.ravenmcallan.com

Happy reading,

Love R x

*****

Hair july 14Raven Bio…

Well what can I say?

I’m growing old disgracefully and loving it.

Dh and I live on the edge of a Scottish forest, and rattle around in a house much too big for us.

Our kids have grown up and flown the nest, but roll back up when they want to take a deep breath and smell the daisies so to speak.

I write in my study, which overlooks the garden and the lane. I’m often seen procrastinating, by checking out the wild life, looking—only looking—at the ironing basket and assuring tourists that indeed, I’m not the bed and breakfast. That would mean cooking fried eggs without breaking the yolks, and disturbing the dust bunnies as they procreate under the beds. Not to be thought of.

Being able to do what I love, and knowing people get pleasure from my writing is fantastic. Long may it last.