Tag Archives: steampunk

Don’t Let Ideas Slip Away – A Guest Post from Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #Steampunk #Menage #Lesbian #Bisexual #Threesome #Dominance #Submission #Homoerotic #Bondage #Discipline #FemDom #VictorianEra #SexToys #Feminist #Revenge #Tattoos #AltHistory #Orgy

Blog posts and how-to books aimed at authors often recommend that we keep an idea notebook. “Capture your inspirations when they’re fresh,” the pundits counsel. “Don’t let your ideas slip away.”

For many years, I’ve followed this recommendation. Typically I keep the notebook next to my bed, so that I can jot down the details of dreams that contain the seed of a story. Also, I tend to be more relaxed at night. Sometimes I’ll write a page or two, in longhand, before falling asleep.

It’s not uncommon for me to be fired up, initially, when I come up with a new idea and write it down. When I review my scribbles a few days later, on the other hand, my enthusiasm may have cooled. What seemed like a brilliant premise in the heat of inspiration will strike me as hackneyed or boring. Still, it’s there in the notebook, in case I change my mind.

The concept for the Toymakers Guild series showed up in my notebook way back in 2010. At the time, I was writing – or trying to write – traditional romance for Totally Bound. My original vision of the Guild was quite close to the portrayal in the series, a secretive Victoria-era establishment located in a remote part of England and dedicated to the creation of steampunk sex toys. I knew I’d have characters named Gillian, Amelia and Rafe, though I wasn’t sure who they were. I even had the titles for the series volumes. However, I pictured the series as romance. Each book, I assumed, would focus on a different relationship between a different set of Toymakers. Each book would also deal with the creation of some outrageous sexual artifact for a particular client.

I spent some time thinking about this, but I was busy with other books as well as real world responsibilities, and the momentum slipped away. One problem was that at that time I’d never before been successful in writing a series. I wasn’t confident I could maintain a fictional world over more than one book.

Time passed. I gradually shifted to self-publishing and in the process away from classic romance. Without intending to, I wrote my very successful Vegas Babes erotica series. I started to understand the dynamics of series creation. And I saw that from a commercial perspective, series were the way to go.

Then, late in 2019 I remembered the Toymakers. I dug out the old notebook and read the few pages I’d penned back in 2010. And the creative juices began to flow.

Three years later, I’ve finally completed the Toymakers trilogy. It has diverged dramatically from my original vision, but still, the core concepts haven’t really changed.

If I hadn’t captured those notes, I might well have forgotten about Gillian and her companions out on the Devon moors. I’m grateful I listened to advice!

*****

Excerpt:

A few minutes later, he pointed to a summit some hundred yards ahead. It was crowned by a finger of stone, pointing toward the sky. “That’s Brigit’s Tor,” he said. “Supposedly the standing stone is more than five thousand years old. Some claim the site was an ancient shrine.”

Trudging up the last, steep slope, they paused for breath. Gillian peered up at the granite pillar silhouetted against the blue background. Its shape was surprisingly regular and when they finally arrived at the shallow, grassy bowl at the top, she noticed it was free of the grey-green lichen that bloomed on most of the moorland rocks. It wasn’t that tall, perhaps half again her height, but when she passed beneath its shadow, she found herself shivering.

Other oblongs of stone lay scattered around the hilltop, some partly buried in the earth. Rafe seated himself on one sun-warmed slab and patted the spot beside him. “Sit, Jill. I’ve brought some tea.” He rummaged in his bag and pulled out a vacuum flask and two mugs, which he proceeded to fill.

“How clever of you!”  The beverage was lukewarm, but sweet and wonderfully refreshing after their climb. She sipped it gratefully while admiring the view from their elevated vantage point. The moors rolled away to the north and west, draped in velvety shades of olive and sage. Far to the east, she glimpsed a brick-coloured, smoke-hung smudge that had to be Tavistock. Closer to their perch, she noted a dense patch of emerald-green vegetation that was undoubtedly the grounds of Randerley. Despite the height of its towers, the hall itself could not be seen.

Faced with such an inspiring expanse, she found her spirits rising. She reached for Rafe’s hand. “Thank you so much for bringing me here. It’s truly marvellous!”

Rafe cupped the back of her head in one hand and pulled her into a fiery kiss. He didn’t embrace her, not yet, but his mouth sealed to hers with a finality that left her burning and breathless. Like some parched desert traveller who’d stumbled upon an oasis, he drank her in, desperate and thankful.

She opened to him, ready to give him whatever he needed or desired. His familiar flavour lit up her senses, quickening her pulse and making her nipples peak. The kiss consumed her. Surging desire and a lack of air combined to make her giddy. The earth wheeled around her, blue and green turning somersaults in her head.

“Oh, Jill,” he moaned when he finally set her free. “I can’t stand this any longer. Lie down!”

He eased her back onto the slab. She bent and parted her knees of her own accord, and began to unbutton her bodice.

“No, no, let me, please!” He half-rose, then fell to his knees in the grass beside the granite shelf, to one side of her. With typical speed and precision, he unfastened and opened her top, then slipped both hands inside to cradle her breasts through her shift.

Electric pleasure coursed through her, the sparks kindled by his touch racing to ignite her core. “Oh God, Rafe! I’ve missed you,” she panted, as he pulled up her chemise and applied his mouth to her aching nipples. He tongued and sucked the taut nubs, every touch adding fuel to the blaze between her legs.

She wanted him there, filling her cunny, as she’d never wanted anyone or anything. She craved the sensation of his irresistible hardness stretching her wide. At the same time, his exquisite attention felt too delicious to forego.

Closing her eyes, she surrendered to his mouth and his passion. Let him do whatever he wished. She had no doubt it would suit her own desires. As she lay on her back upon the altar-like stone, she imagined herself a willing sacrifice to the ancient earth gods, awaiting ecstasy and enlightenment.

Lost in a lascivious trance, it took a moment for her realise that Rafe had abandoned her nipples for other parts of her anatomy. He fumbled with her skirts, pushing them up over her knees so they pooled over her belly. Then he leaned in to sweep his tongue through her fully exposed cleft. She’d discarded her undergarments when she’d gone upstairs to change shoes, suspecting that Rafe might harbour carnal intentions with regard to their walk.

She gasped at the sudden, intense stimulation and arched up off the stone in an attempt to stay connected to his divine tongue. “Let me,” he repeated, forcing her hips back down. “Trust me to give you what you need.” He licked her again, more firmly this time, ending with a flick to her swollen clit. “Lie back and let me eat my fill.”

It was difficult to relax, nearly impossible to obey, but Gillian tried valiantly. He used his knowledge of her body to bring her to the very brink of spending, again and again, but he held back from the final stroke that would push her over the edge. Before long she was whimpering and moaning, struggling not to thrash about as he gorged on her slick, sensitive flesh.

“Oh, by the stars and planets, don’t tease me anymore, Rafe! Give me your cock, before I go crazy.”

*****

Blurb

How do you train a steampunk sexbot?

Gillian Smith’s promotion to journeyman proves she’s ready to lead the Toymakers in producing astonishing new erotic artifacts. Creative, brilliant, and debauched, she’ll stretch her capabilities to the limit as she juggles a talent shortage and a pair of jealous rivals. Then there’s the challenge of their latest commission—a life-sized programmable sex doll intended to replace a client’s deceased paramour.

Normally she would consult the enigmatic Master Toymaker, but he seems preoccupied with his own concerns. Though her lusty crew of sexual renegades can offer technical and carnal assistance, Gillian is ultimately responsible for delivering the promised, near-impossible technology.

It’s fortunate she’s not one to give up—not even when events threaten the Guild’s very survival.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/976-the-masters-mark-the-toymakers-guild-book-3/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BRHGN35L

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0BRHGN35L

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1306694

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/2940165993299

Kobo –  https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-master-s-mark-the-toymaker-s-guild-book-3

Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id6445290161

Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/75611538-the-master-s-mark

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, BookBub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

*****

CONTEST!

Lisabet Sarai is running a contest to celebrate the release of The Master’s Mark. The prize is a $10 book store gift certificate, plus an ebook copy of the new novel in your choice of formats.

To enter, do the following:

  • Send an email at contest [at] lisabetsarai [dot] com
  • In the body of the email, list the names of two characters in The Master’s Mark. (You can discover this from various blog posts and excerpts.)

One entry per person, please. On the first of February, Lisabet will randomly draw a winner from among all the entries. Be sure to send your entry to the “contest” email address above.

Rajasthani Moon by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #steampunk #bondage #discipline #Victorian #BDSM #India #Bollywood #BBW #analsex #curse #espionage #dirigible #menage #shifter

Blurb

A bandit prince cursed into beast form under the full moon.

A brilliant but sadistic Rajah whose robotic sex toys mingle torture and delight.

A voluptuous spy on a mission from Her Majesty, tasked with discovering Rajasthan’s secrets.

She has never faced such a challenge. 

When Rajasthan refuses to remit its taxes, the Queen calls on her most lethal and seductive secret agent, Cecily Harrowsmith. Cecily expects to have little difficulty persuading the rebellious Rajah to submit once more to the Empire. Instead, she is the one forced to submit – to endure unprecedented extremes of pleasure and pain.

Kidnapped by the ruler’s half-brother Pratan and delivered into the hands of the handsome but depraved Rajah Amir, she soon finds herself fighting against her own lascivious nature as much as the schemes of her captors. Her sympathy for the moon-cursed wolf-man Pratan only complicates her situation. Cecily has never failed to complete an assignment, but now she risks betrayal by both her body and her heart.

Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound. It has been re-edited, revised and updated for this release.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/363-rajasthani-moon-steampunk-shifter-bdsm-romance/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09DBMLQQG

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09DBMLQQG

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1100493

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rajasthani-moon-lisabet-sarai/1140045684?ean=2940165000041

Kobohttps://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/rajasthani-moon-steampunk-shifter-bdsm-romance

Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58835067-rajasthani-moon

*****

Rajasthani MoonExcerpt:

The brigand’s headquarters turned out to be a cave hollowed from the side of a mountain. After tethering his horse to a stunted tree near the entrance, he slung Cecily over his shoulder like a sack of flour and carried her inside. His casual handling of her body both inflamed and enraged her, but she remained quiet, observing her surroundings with care in the hope of discerning some means of escape.

The interior was less dirty and claustrophobic than she had feared. An uneven ceiling arched over their heads, reinforced by pillars fashioned from whole tree trunks. Oil lamps tucked into niches hewn into the walls dispelled most of the shadows. A wooden table, two chairs and a bedstead, all of rustic construction, constituted the only furnishings. However, to her left, on a natural rock shelf, she was surprised to see a sleek, modern com unit. Its low hum mingled with a faint gurgle of running water, coming from somewhere deeper in the cave. In the shadows she noticed a cage fashioned of iron bars, of the sort she’d seen used to transport sheep and goats. Does he keep animals here? she wondered. There was no barnyard scent.

He dumped her without ceremony onto the straw-filled mattress, then unsheathed his knife. Before she could even cry out, he had sliced her filthy, rumpled clothing off her body, pulled the fabric from underneath her, and tossed the bright rags into a corner. He also relieved her of the knife strapped to her arm and her other earring.

He paused to ogle her nakedness, the dark eyes above his mask burning with lust. Cecily’s nipples peaked and her cunny moistened in response to his brazen inspection—she couldn’t help herself—and she was uncomfortably certain that her reactions were not lost on him.

Using her bound arms, she managed to manoeuvre herself into a sitting position, with her bound legs dangling over the edge of the bed. He watched, neither assisting nor hindering her, clearly amused by her awkward progress. Refusing to be cowed, she answered his bold stare with one of her own.

He was the one to break the silence. “So, my lady. Tell me now. Whom do I have the honour of entertaining here in my humble abode?”

“Why should I reveal my identity to someone who will not even show me his face?” Cecily stalled for time, trying to work out a plan.

“A reasonable point. Pardon me.” The man untied the cloth that hid his features, revealing a beak of a nose, black whiskers and lips that curled in a sardonic smile.

“You!”Cecily cursed inwardly as soon as the word escaped.

“You know me, woman?” His eyes narrowed and his brows drew together into a scowl.

“I–I have seen your picture, sir—in the Bombay newspapers…”

What was the Rajah’s brother doing, hiding away in a miserable hole like this? Why didn’t he have any servants or retainers? Why had he attacked her carriage? These questions and a dozen more assailed her. Meanwhile, she struggled to offer a coherent excuse.

“My brother recommended that I should contact you, Your Excellency, when I arrived in Jaipur… He wishes to establish relationships with your weavers, to purchase your justifiably renowned textiles, but owing to his failing health, he sent me in his stead…”

“Nonsense!”His voice was like thunder. “Do not insult my intelligence! You’re no merchant, madam! Who are you really? Or do I have to beat the truth out of you?”

Cecily kept her mouth closed. Like all Her Majesty’s agents, she’d been trained not to break under torture. Thus far, that training had never been put to the test.

Pratan seized her by her long hair and hauled her to her feet. Of course, with her ankles bound, she could not walk. Half pulling, half carrying, he bundled her over to the closest pillar, jerked her bound arms up, then pushed her face first against the rough wood. The bark abraded her naked breasts and belly. She tried to squirm away from him, but he leaned his weight against her back while keeping her wrists pinned against the pillar above her head.

“Rebind,” he growled. In a flash the robotic rope unravelled and reconfigured itself, looping tight around both her arms and the column supporting her. Once he was certain she was secure, he dropped to his knees and touched the rope at her ankles. “Unbind.”

Cecily stumbled as the force connecting her ankles disappeared. Her relief at being free was short-lived. Pratan dragged her legs apart and inserted some sort of rigid bar between her shins. “Bind.” Before she could take two breaths, her legs were restrained in a permanently spread position, wide enough to allow her captor easy access to her sex.

Indeed, realising the degree of her exposure made her terribly aware of her quim, which she could not deny was soaked and swollen. You must be strong, she told herself. Think of England.

The cool air of the cave teased her bared flesh. Then a light touch, delicate as a feather, traced its way along the inside of her thigh. Her pussy clenched and moisture dribbled out. The impudent finger smeared the juice across her sensitive skin. Pleasure sparked through her.

“You can’t fight me.” His voice was like warm honey now, all the anger gone. It flowed through her, unbearably sweet. “And I don’t think you want to. There’s no shame in surrendering when you’ve been rendered completely helpless.”

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.

New Release! The Pornographer’s Apprentice (The Toymakers Guild, Book 1) by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #Steampunk #Menage #Lesbian #Bisexual #Dominance #Submission

Blurb

In prudish, patriarchal Victorian England, nineteen year old prodigy Gillian Smith finds a secret society dedicated to the erotic arts. She’ll need both her intellect and her physical charms to earn the permanent position she craves.

Inspired by a salacious catalogue found in her deceased uncle’s library, she applies for an apprenticeship with the Toymakers Guild. The Guild fabricates bespoke sexual artifacts for the private pleasure of select clients – an occupation for which Gillian, with her technical abilities and her lascivious temperament, is eminently suited.

The other apprentices, initially skeptical about a female engineer, become enthusiastic supporters once they’ve tested her erotic aptitude. The voluptuous Governing Director, and the dashing French journeyman likewise help expand her carnal repertoire. The final decision, however, rests with the reclusive Master Toymaker, who has been missing for nearly two years.

When an unscrupulous nobleman sets up a competing enterprise, he threatens not only the livelihood of the Guild’s members but their lives as well. Gillian hatches an audacious plan to entrap the villain, save the Guild, and leave the absent Master no choice but to grant her heart’s desire.

If you like steam punk erotica with a kinky feminist bent, you’ll love The Pornographer’s Apprentice.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/8424-the-pornographers-apprentice-the-toymakers-guild-book-1/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08MWMZZGP

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08MWMZZGP

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1053072

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-pornographers-apprentice-lisabet-sarai/1138144978?ean=2940164724573

Kobo –  https://www.kobo.com/th/en/ebook/the-pornographer-s-apprentice-1

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/55857159-the-pornographer-s-apprentice

*****

The Pornographer's ApprenticeExcerpt:

Red welts now streaked the journeyman’s back. Amelia surveyed her handiwork, apparently taking a break. “That’s half of what you’re owed,” she told him. “However, the next dozen strokes won’t be so easy.” She rummaged in her box. “I’m sure you’ll remember this. One of your cleverest designs.”

She held up a bulbous device, tapered at both ends, about two inches in diameter at its largest. A quartet of wires flowed from the base, terminating in broad rubber cuffs.

Sébastien groaned. “Mr. Bosley’s electric arse stimulator? But we delivered that more than six months ago!”

“I had Mr. Fawcett and Mr. Burns build a duplicate. Just in case. Fortunately for you, I have plenty of lard…” Suiting actions to words, she scooped some waxy white substance out of a covered jar and smeared it over the device. Spreading Sébastien’s rear cheeks with one hand,  she pressed the greased plug against his sphincter with the other. “Just relax,” she crooned.

“I’m trying, ma’am.”

She reached around to grab his erection, using it for leverage. He shuddered at her touch. “Don’t fight me, boy. You know you won’t win.”

“Oh – oh, Mistress…”

Pushing and twisting simultaneously, she finally seated the bulb in his rear channel.

Gillian moaned in concert with the victim, her recently reamed arsehole twitching.

“Such a brilliant concept,” she continued in a even tone as she fastened the cuffs around his thighs and upper arms. “Harvesting the power of the user’s own kinetic energy, I mean. The more frenetic the struggles, the more intense the electrical stimulation.”

Gillian immediately grasped Sébastien’s dilemma. Poor man!

Amelia smoothed the curls away from his forehead, then dropped her hand to his rampant cock and squeezed. His jerk of pleasure turned to a cry of pain as the devilish toy delivered a shock to his tender rectum. “Are you ready for the second dozen strokes, my boy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he managed, through gritted teeth.

“Very good. Now try to stay still…”

The lash snapped, landing on his shoulder. Reflexively, he flinched away from the blow. The sudden movement activated the electric plug. He let out a wail, his back arching as the infernal thing in his arse came to life.

“One,” intoned Amelia.

The next stroke carved a red path across his buttocks. This time he managed to keep himself still enough to avoid being shocked.

“Two,” called his tormenter. Before he could catch his breath, the whip flew once more, slashing across the backs of his thighs.

Mon dieu!” he cried, shaking as electric pulses wracked his rectum.

“Three. Are you all right, Sébastien?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And if you need me to stop?”

“I’ll say ‘Logarithm’,” he replied. “But you need not worry. Finish the punishment, Mistress. I deserve it.”

“Good boy.”

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, and  Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

Guest Blog: Cindy Spencer Pape

Moonlight & Mechanicals, A Gaslight Chronicles novel by Cindy Spencer Pape

First of all, I’d like to thank Lucy for having me here today. Secondly, I’d like to chat about a little something that comes up in several of my steampunk books: condom use.

Whether you find that protection interferes with the fantasy in a romance novel or not, sometimes I think we do our readers and our characters a service by showing them being cautious. Condoms in the mid-nineteenth century in England were more common than you might think. In fact, condoms go back a lot further than you may have guessed. I’ve researched this more extensively than I ever thought I’d need to, and here is a little synopsis of what I’ve learned.

The first written reference to what we now call a condom was by an Italian scientist named Fallopio (yes, as in Fallopian tubes) in 1564. He claimed to have “invented” a device to prevent the spread of venereal disease. The description isn’t very detailed, but apparently it was a linen sheath that fit over the glans. He actually tested it on 1100 men and none of them became infected. So the condom for disease prevention isn’t a recent phenomenon. Another doctor published something similar in 1597. From there forward, there’s a pretty clear record of condom use and innovation. They’re mentioned in a French play from 1655, maybe in the correspondence of two French noblewomen from the late 1600s and quite extensively in the memoirs of the legendary Giacomo Casanova, published in 1797. The famous lover didn’t much like them and there’s an engraving in the book of he and a friend inflating them like balloons to entertain a pair of ladies, thus starting a proud tradition carried out by high school boys to this day. The word condom dates in print to 1706, in a poem, but the origins of the word remain a mystery. Legend says that a Dr. Condom introduced them to Charles II of England as a means of preventing additional illegitimate offspring, but no support of this has ever been found, and it’s now assumed to be a myth.

By the late 1700s you could find prophylactics made of hand sewn goat, sheep, or cow intestine, tanned fish skin, oiled silk, or even very fine leather. Some covered the whole penis, others were caps or “capottes” that just covered the glans, and most had a drawstring at the base to hold them in place. Condom technology really took off in the 1800s. They had great names like cundums, French Letters, French Preservatives, Male Safes, English Armor, and “Patent Circular Protector.” Early experiments with rubber were fairly unsuccessful, until Goodyear and Hancock (separately) in about 1844 invented the vulcanization process. The new technique allowed for much more durable protection, though the resulting condoms were thicker than those made of skin. They were also designed to be washed out and reused until the rubber started to crumble. The first advertisement for rubber condoms appeared in the New York Times in 1861, so we know they were widely available by then. In 1873, the Comstock Act prohibited the sale of contraceptives by mail in theUS, so for many years, they became harder to get with relative anonymity. The reservoir tip was added in 1901, and a method for making them without seams was discovered inGermany in 1912. In 1930 the latex condom was introduced, thus creating the rubber we know today.

 

Below is a little snippet from “Moonlight & Mechanicals.” I hope you can see what I mean about the protection fitting into and even being a part of the story.

“I didn’t get to the chemist.” His breath was shallow and choppy as he peeled away the rest of her clothes. When she stood there in nothing but stockings and garters, he groaned.

“In the drawer beside the bed. I stole some from the boys’ bathroom.” Her hand moved down to a garter and he growled.

“Leave those.” He’d remember the sight of her in just her stockings for the rest of his life. Now he wondered just how experimental his little firebrand could be. “Put your hands on the bureau and face the mirror.”

Her eyes widened, but she did as he said, leaning over the dresser with her delectable bottom pointed at him. It was all he could do not to spend then and there. With haste, he withdrew a French letter from the drawer and tied the sheepskin sheath over his penis. Then he stalked up to Wink.

“Watch the mirror.” He lowered his mouth to the side of her throat, sucking lightly on the spot where he’d marked her the day before. She quivered under his touch, moaning when he used his hands on her breasts. He watched over her shoulder, entranced by the sight of his darker fingers trailing over her fair skin and peach nipples. “You have freckles on your shoulders.” He hadn’t noticed those in his dimly lit room the night before.

She didn’t respond. He could see her fight to keep her eyes open as her arousal deepened.

He ran one hand down her flat belly to her mons. “Spread your legs a little and lean on the bureau more.”

She complied instantly, her backside brushing against his erection. Liam tested her, found her wet and ready for him. He positioned himself at her entrance and pressed inside.

“Oh.” Her eyes flew open and she met his gaze in the mirror. “That’s…nice.”

The angle allowed for deeper penetration and Liam nodded. He kissed her neck again, and used his fingers on her clitoris as he stroked in and out. It wasn’t long before she cried out his name and convulsed around him, her tight muscles milking his erection. His own climax speared through him and he shuddered helplessly as he poured himself into her heat.

*****

Moonlight and MechanicalsLondon, 1859

Engineer Winifred “Wink” Hadrian has been in love with Inspector Liam McCullough for years, but is beginning to lose hope when he swears to be a lifelong bachelor. Faced with a proposal from a Knight of the Round Table and one of her closest friends, Wink reluctantly agrees to consider him instead.

Because of his dark werewolf past, Liam tries to keep his distance, but can’t say no when Wink asks him to help find her friend’s missing son. They soon discover that London’s poorest are disappearing at an alarming rate, after encounters with mysterious “mechanical” men. Even more alarming is the connection the missing people may have with a conspiracy against the Queen.

Fighting against time—and their escalating feelings for each other—Wink and Liam must work together to find the missing people and save the monarchy before it’s too late…

Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Barnes & Noble

*****

About the Author:

Award-winning author of over forty popular books and novellas in paranormal, historical, and erotic romance, Cindy Spencer Pape is an avid reader. According to The Romance Studio, her plots are “full of twist and turns that keep the reader poised at the edge of their seat.” Joyfully Reviewed said, her “colorful characters and plot building surprises kept me spellbound,” and Romantic Times Magazine says her “characters are appealing, and passionate sex leads to a satisfying romance.”

Cindy firmly believes in happily-ever-after. Married for more than twenty-five years to her own, sometimes-kilted hero, she lives in southern Michigan with him and two college-age sons, along with an ever-changing menagerie of pets.  Cindy has been, among other things, a banker, a teacher, and an elected politician, but mostly an environmental educator, though now she is lucky enough to write full-time. Her degrees in zoology and animal behavior almost help her comprehend the three male humans who share her household.

http://www.cindyspencerpape.com
Blog: http://cindyspencerpape.blogspot.com/
Newsletter group: http://yhoo.it/ni7PHo
Twitter: http://twitter.com/CindySPape
Facebook: http://on.fb.me/gjbLLC