New Release: Identity Crisis by Grace Marshall

by | Jan 31, 2013 | | 0 Comments

Identity CrisisIDENTITY CRISIS

GRACE MARSHALL

Available from:
Xcite Books
Amazon UK
Amazon US

Other links will be added here as they become available: http://gracemarshallromance.co.uk/books/identity-crisis/

Reclusive romance novelist Tess Delaney is the alter ego of Garrett Thorne, bad-boy brother of business tycoon Ellison Thorne. When Tess is nominated for the Golden Kiss Award, Garrett recruits PR specialist, Kendra Davis, to keep his secret and be Tess for the awards despite their mutual animosity. But when Tess is stalked by a rabid fan, an identity crisis is eclipsed by a battle for survival, and Tess Delaney, the woman who doesn’t exist, just might understand Kendra and Garrett’s hearts even better than they do.

*****

Excerpt:

Garrett felt like a naughty teenager as they sneaked out the back door, through the gate of the privacy fence and down the alley. He wore a shapeless track suit with the black hoodie pulled up over his head and a scruffy pair of Converse sneakers that weren’t exactly meant for dancing. And Kendra, well she hardly looked ratty, in his opinion. She wore low rider jeans, and where they weren’t hugging her body like a second skin, they were full of threadbare, flesh revealing holes. The black sweat top she wore was cut short enough to show a tantalizing flash of her navel and hips bones when she moved just right. It slid off one shoulder to reveal the thin lacy strap of a red bra. She wore all of her russet locks tucked up under a leather beret. Her fashion statement was topped off with black ankle boots. She looked very, very dangerous. And hot. Of course she didn’t need to dress the part for either, he thought. He was already certain on both counts.

‘You live a little closer to The Boiling Point than Dee does.’ She took his hand and nodded to where the alley T’ed with the street, and then gave way to the park on the other side. ‘She never goes there, of course. Well she did once, but that was just for Harris, then he hated it.’ She giggled. ‘God I wish I could have been there for that.’

‘Am I going to hate it?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘Probably not. You’re much more of a bad boy than Harris is, or is that all an act?’

The long line of shiny chrome Harleys out front of the squat cinder block building gave Garrett the first clue that this was not Dancing with the Stars. Kendra waved them away absently. ‘The Boiling Point’s not really a biker bar, but it’s kind of the warm-up act, I suppose you could say. Lots of bikers start off here before they head on to their usual haunts. Makes for an exciting mix. Later in the night there are almost no bikers. But there are always lots of interesting people.’

Any other time, Garrett would have been up for meeting interesting people, but tonight he couldn’t imagine anyone interesting him more than the woman on his arm. He paid the fee at the door and a surly man the size of small house with fire-engine hair and a scruffy beard stamped their hands with a red ink TBP.

Inside a live band had just begun to play to a full, but not yet crowded house. ‘The place gets raided from time to time,’ Kendra said. ‘I don’t know what all goes on. I just come here because it’s interesting.’

‘A good raid and us carted off to the police station will really give the press something to talk about,’ Garrett observed.

‘Don’t worry,’ she yelled to be heard above the band’s bass-heavy version of Highway to Hell. ‘They just got raided last week. They’ll be good to go for a while now. We can relax and enjoy ourselves.’ She pulled him onto the dance floor. ‘Best dance while there’s room. In a few hours it’ll be a real tit squeeze.’

Kendra Davis was just as stunning dark and dangerous as she was golden and romantic, as she was naked in his kitchen, and she definitely knew how to move on the dance floor. But it made Garrett more than a little nervous that he wasn’t the only one who seemed to be noticing the way the woman could shake her booty. He thought about asking her to try not to draw to much attention to herself, but he wasn’t even sure it was possible for Kendra Davis not to draw attention.

The place smelled of leather and beer, and sweat. Already there was a thick haze of pheromones invisible to the eye, but everyone there breathed them it, gave them off and reveled in the dark anticipation of what the night might bring. The look in Kendra’s eyes was bright and wicked, like she would do anything, try anything, like all the boundaries were suddenly negotiable.

And fuck, as amazing as she was like that, as much as he wanted to lose himself in the place, in the experience, there was no way he could keep from thinking about who might be watching her in that crowd, about who might be waiting for just the perfect opportunity.

As though she were reading his mind, she pulled him to her with a hand curled around his neck and spoke against his ear. ‘Oh would you relax, Garrett. Do you really think this is the kind of hang-out Tess Delaney would frequent?’

Then she slid both arms around his neck and let him pull her into a deep, hungry kiss. When it ended with an aggressive flick of his tongue, she offered a throaty giggle. ‘Marking territory, are we?’ Before he had a chance to respond, she returned the favor, plunging her tongue in deep, and tightening a fist in his hair to pull him closer.

He moved a hand to the small of her back and gave her the full frontal rub-up, enough to be sure she knew she’d gotten his cock’s attention. ‘You see where this is leading if you keep that up?’

She pulled away and gave his crotch some breathing room as the music settled into a heavy metal beat that filled the dance floor with lots of heavily booted bikers and their spandex and leather women. Garrett was surprised to find more than a few men in pressed jeans and designer polo shirts bellied up to the bar in the mix that looked like it was probably mostly low-brow. He wasn’t the only man who looked like he’d just come from a work out at the corner gym and Kendra’s shredded jeans seemed to be the fashion statement of more than a few women among a smattering of Goth and grunge and plain old red-neck jeans and tee-shirts with baseball caps.

With each song the band played, the dance floor became fuller and fuller. The strobe light flashed and the disco ball bathed the floor in sparkles as people rocked and strutted and sweated, and it became more and more difficult to tell who was dancing with whom. Garrett was about to grab Kendra by the hand and reel her back in so they could stay connected when a biker in a ZZ Top tee-shirt that smelled like an ashtray and looked like it might have been painted across his bulging pecs managed to slide in between them, turn his back on Garrett, and focus his full attention on Kendra. And suddenly all Garrett could see was his broad back.

‘Kendra,’ he called, but his voice was drowned out in the roar of Def Leppard. And that might have been okay if the man hadn’t been so fucking big. Kendra was certainly entitled to dance with whomever she liked. But he couldn’t see her. He fucking couldn’t see her! Not even her feet between the man’s shuffling boots. ‘Kendra!’ He called again. Louder this time. That at least got the man’s attention, but when he turned to see what Garrett wanted, and he could see beyond the biker’s bulk, Kendra was not there! The woman the man was dancing with had cropped blonde hair and a leather bustier several sizes too small.

‘Kendra!’ Garrett called out, louder this time, shoving his way past the biker, who pulled the blonde to him protectively. Frantically Garrett scanned the burgeoning crowd on the dance floor, scanned the women with hats. There were cowboy hats, police hats, even a few stocking caps, but there were just too many people, too many lights, too much noise. In his mind he could only think of Razor Sharp’s horrid email and Kendra’s response to it. Why the hell hadn’t he forced the issue? Why the hell hadn’t he made her tell him why she was so upset, made her tell him about the stalker Dee had mentioned. And fuck! Why had he let her talk him into bringing her here?

*****

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. The first and second novels in the trilogy are out now.

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:

Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/GraceMarshallRomance

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/GM_Romance

Guest Blogger: Doris O’Connor

by | Jan 30, 2013 | | 2 Comments

Thanks so much for letting me stop over, Lucy. 🙂

Today, I’m talking voices, specifically the voices in my head. Now, if you’re a writer, you’ll get what I mean. If you’re not, bear with me. I promise you won’t need to call the men in the little white coats, not yet anyway…

You see, I’m a panster, which means my writing is entirely character driven, and I never know what’s going to happen, until I sit down and write. Which works perfectly when the voices are talking—not so much when they don’t. Nothing gets written then.

It also doesn’t work too well when the voices insist you write something that you’re not comfortable writing. This is what happened with Too Devious To Tame. I loved writing the first two books in this series. My fingers fairly flew across the keyboard, and the start of this book was no exception.

And then, the doubts crept in. I hit a scene, where I really didn’t like the way my hero behaved and where the story was heading. He had his reasons, of course, and it entirely fits the story, but I couldn’t bring myself to write anymore. Not the way it needed to be written.

You see, my heroine Jemima was a rather unlikable character in book two, and I needed to redeem her. Now, everyone has a story, and Jemima’s is heart wrenching, and real, but it is also rather dark, and it explains why she acted the way she did. Giorgio, too, has a rather colourful past and present—his connections are dangerous and reassuring in equal measures—and when I started writing this series, I was very much a newbie. I couldn’t do that story justice.

Fast forward two years, and with book one and two successfully published and doing well, and more confident in my writing skills, I revisited this story. I made it my Nano 2012 project, and wouldn’t you know it, this time my fingers flew.

Rather than doubt the voices, I followed their lead and let the story evolve into what it needed to be. As a result, this installment of the Giovanni has jumped up a heat level, and Giorgio and Jemima are not only fighting their of the scales chemistry, but also the choices they made in the past, that place them both in danger.

I had many “Oh Wow,” moments when I wrote this. Hopefully my readers will be just as surprised when they get to those twists, as I was writing them. I honestly didn’t see some of that coming. And that’s the one thing I love most about being a writer, and a panster to boot.

It’s always an adventure and a privilege to do the voices justice 🙂

Too Devious To TameBLURB:

When Giorgio Giovanni tracks the troublesome Jemima down in a hospital bed in Italy, he has one thing on his mind—revenge. However, the fragile woman he encounters is not the devious female he remembers. When it becomes clear that she is in danger, he risks everything to keep her safe.

Left for dead, Jemima wakes up in hospital, terrified, and with no idea of her identity. The angry man, who comes to claim her, is the only link to a shared past she can’t remember. A past that threatens to destroy them, and all she has ever held dear.

With danger all around them, and their sexual chemistry off the scale, can they find their way back to each other, or is the past too devious to tame?

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

 

EXCERPT:            

Tears clouded her vision at the concern in his voice, and he swore and moved to untie her.

“No, I’m fine, really. Leave it. Show me how it should be, please. Help me to forget.”

He stared at her for the longest time, one large hand, hot and heavy on her belly, his gaze so intense it took her breath away.  When he finally smiled, it lit up his harsh features. She didn’t catch the murmured Italian words he mumbled under his breath, but the kiss that followed had her curl her toes into the bed with the effort to not release herself from her bonds and bury her hands in his hair to make him hurry up and fuck her.

He was breathing as heavily as she by the time he released her, and she bit back a moan when he simply ripped the rest of her dress off her. Her bra and knickers followed the fate of her dress, until she lay in front of him naked, wet, and wanting. He ran his knuckles slowly up and down her tummy in ever widening circles, and then reached across to the ice bucket with a slow grin.

“Shut your eyes for me, cara.”   His voice had dropped an octave, and her stomach dropped right with it, seeing him hold a couple of ice cubes in his fingers. She shook her head and bucked off the bed, when he flicked his hand over her breasts. Ice cold drops of water fell on her skin and trickled between the valley of her breasts. He licked the drops away, his warm tongue taking away the coldness left by the water.

“Shut your eyes, trust me. This will be so much better for you when you can’t see what I’m doing.” He kissed a path down her quivering tummy, and she blinked back tears at the tender way he caressed her abdomen. He paused to drop a long kiss just above her pubic bone, and his hot breath teased her wet folds. Her clit tingled, and she shut her eyes, as he renewed his request for her to do so. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but the bed dipped as he adjusted his weight again. His hot mouth closed over one of her nipples at the same time as the other was subjected to an ice cube being circled around it.

She gasped at the intense sensation, and Giorgio swapped sides. The difference between his warm mouth and tongue and the ice cube sent her body into spasms of need. She writhed under him, and he laughed. Again and again he repeated the process all along her body. A path of ice, followed by the warmth of his tongue as he licked the icy trails away, leaving fiery awareness in its wake. By the time he finally reached her pussy, she was hovering on the brink of orgasm. She whimpered her need when he pushed an ice cube high into her channel and then proceeded to lick around her clit, careful to never touch her when she needed him most. The melting ice cube mixed in with her own juices and trickled slowly out her hole. Her pussy clenched, and she didn’t recognize the needy voice pleading with him to please do something.

He blew against her slit and shouldered her legs wider.

“Così bello, e tutto mio.”   He followed the words with a kiss, and she screamed when he pulled her clit into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, at the same time as he pushed another ice cube into her empty channel. Her walls closed around the slippery object, and spasmed wildly as the first quivers of her orgasm hit. Giorgio groaned into her core and stepped up his sweet torture on her clit. When he pushed two fingers into her core, and massaged her sweet spot, the intensity of her orgasm hit her with the full force of freight train.

“That’s it, tesoro, fly for me.” He caught her scream of release in his mouth, and she could taste herself in the passionate kiss he gave her, dimly aware of him withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his cock. Thick, hard, and so very long he filled her completely as he pushed into her swollen core, until he was seated to the hilt. She wrapped her legs around him and dug her feet into his calves to give him better access and to take him as deep as she could. He started thrusting, every move driving him deeper into her, and tumbling her right over the edge again, as her inner muscles contracted around his thick member. Faster and faster he pumped, his harsh breathing in her ear the most erotic sound ever, his hands and lips seemingly everywhere, arousing every little bit of skin he touched until her whole body was a mass of sensation. Again her body climbed toward that peak of sheer joy, and this time Giorgio was with her every step of the ecstatic journey they took together. Her eyes flew open, and she drowned in the rolling depths of emotion she saw reflected in his, as they came together in their explosive release.

When her body finally stopped shaking, she could taste the salt of tears in her mouth. Giorgio kissed them off her face, and he released her from her bonds, and pulled her into his embrace. She had to smile at his grumbled, “If this is pretending, then I hate to see what will happen when we do this for real.”

 

Author Bio:

Glutton for punishment would be a good description for Doris… at least that’s what she hears on an almost daily basis when people find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to toddler and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children, pets, dust bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic goddess she is not.

There is always something better to do after all, like working on the latest manuscript and trying not to scare the locals even more than usual by talking out loud to the voices in her head. Her characters tend to be pretty insistent to get their stories told, and you will find Doris burning the midnight oil on a regular basis. Only time to get any peace and quiet and besides, sleep is for wimps.

She likes to spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.

Find Doris on the web here:

Website  Blog Twitter Facebook Pinterest

New Release: Kinky Boots by K D Grace

by | Jan 29, 2013 | | 0 Comments

Kinky BootsKINKY BOOTS

K D GRACE

Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US

More links will be added here as they become available:

http://kdgrace.co.uk/books/kinky-boots/

After a sizzling encounter in DEMON HEELS, a quirky all-night shoe store, with the store’s hot owner, FINN MASTERS, JILL HART walks away in the most gorgeous boots ever. Her new boots come with an unexpected bonus, a sexy demon named ELEANOR, who’s looking for a good time. All she lacks is a body, and Jill’s will do nicely.

Jill quits her dead-end job and, not knowing what’s come over her stops by the nearest pub intent on doing tequila shots until she falls off the stool. Instead she does FINN MASTERS in the beer garden, unwittingly participating in her first ever threesome. The boots were the bait, the timing was right and Eleanor has new digs. It’s Finn job to prevent Eleanor’s misbehaving. His failure means he’ll have to ride shotgun and do damage control until Eleanor moves out at the next full moon.

With Eleanor in residence, Jill’s bolder, sexier, willing to take risks. But is she a whole new Jill, or is it just demon courage? And how will Finn feel about her when she’s just plain Jill again? Will the maddeningly magical ménage make Jill’s dreams come true, or will it break her heart?

*****

Excerpt:

There was a soft knock on the door and Meinrad entered the room with several hanks of what looked like ordinary rope. He nodded his greeting to Finn, then his gaze came to rest on Jill, and she felt her entire body blush at his inspection. ‘Turn around,’ he said.

She obeyed.

He made some sound low in his throat that could have passed as either approval or not. Then he placed a large hand on her shoulder and turned her back to face him. She noticed he wore the Kinky Boots uniform T-shirt stretched tight across his very broad chest. The shop name was punctuated by the hard pressure of nipples on muscular pecs. The black jeans he wore rode low on his hips. The wave of lust that rushed over her was staggering. How had she not noticed how sexy he was?

Then Finn moved to stand beside him, and she understood. Even though Meinrad was by far the larger man, Finn dominated the room. Finn dominated the space. Finn dominated every second of the last twenty-four hours of her life, as though he had shoved his way in and pushed everything else out. It did things to her, that thought, things that were way beyond lust, things that were a lot more frightening than being possessed by a demon.

He stood gazing down at her from some neutral distance that made her feel very much alone, as though the world and everyone in it had receded, leaving her to await her fate. Eleanor was keeping a low profile. Finn spoke without preamble. ‘Unless something’s hurting you, while Meinrad’s binding you, you’re not to speak. You’re only to move when he moves you. You’re to do exactly as he says. You’re to accept what he does to you in total passivity. Is that clear?’

‘Is he going to fuck me?’ She was embarrassed the minute she said it but it was too late to take it back.

‘If I want him to, yes,’ Finn said.

If Finn wanted him to. Dear God, what was she doing? Suddenly she felt unsteady on her feet. She didn’t know Meinrad. Not like she knew Finn. And yet the thought of the big man hammering her with his enormous cock while she was all trussed up was at least as exciting as it was uncomfortable. The thought that he would do so only at Finn’s bidding excited her even more.

‘There’ll be no safe word,’ Finn continued. ‘All you have to do is tell Meinrad to stop. Or if at any time he thinks you’re not fit to continue, he’ll stop, and that’ll be that. Are we clear?’

She nodded. ‘And what about you?’

‘Meinrad’s acting on my behalf.’ Finn held her in a cool gaze. ‘He’ll do as I say, and so will you, unless you choose at any point not to play.’ For a long moment he studied her, as though he might see something, perhaps some flaw, perhaps some weakness, she didn’t know what. He seemed too far away to tell. She held her breath. Waiting.

At last he blinked and stepped back, still holding her gaze. ‘I’ll ask you again, Jill. Are you sure this is what you want?’

She nodded, afraid to speak for fear her heart would jump out of her throat. Then she remembered to breathe again.

Finn said nothing. He took her hands in his and offered them to Meinrad, who took both her wrists in one huge palm and tied them across one another in a simple looped knot from which she could have easily escaped if she’d wanted. Then he led her to the bed and guided her onto it. There, he secured her hands to the headboard with several feet of slack, enough to allow him to work around her and at the same time allow Finn to observe from every angle. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed Finn had pulled a ladder back chair to the side of the bed and sat emotionlessly looking on. A quick glance was all she got before Meinrad settled her into a kneeling position facing the wall with her hands resting on the headboard.

In the beginning, it felt as though she were being decorated with rope; that’s the best way Jill could describe what Meinrad was doing to her. The rope was softer than she expected it to be and not unpleasant against her bare skin. The embarrassment she felt came, flashed hot, then passed as Meinrad looped the rope and efficiently placed knots above her breasts and then below and then tightened and cinched his efforts until the harnessing effect squeezed and pinched and offered up each of her breasts in a tight little nest of rope, like ripe fruit topped by the cherry-hard rise of her nipples. She’d always had sensitive breasts and to have them so handled and bound made her whole chest burn with a need that was replicated in her pussy.

Meinrad worked in complete silence, his hands moving over her body as though she were nothing more than the canvas for what he was creating. His touch was exacting and his rhythm as he worked was hypnotic. Early on she realised that one of his hands was on her at all times. She remembered basic knot training from her childhood days in the Girl Guides. Right over left and under and through. Left over right and under and through. Rope threaded through competent fingers, rope slid over bare skin, coiling, twisting, binding, descending right over left and left over right, pressing a column of knots down the length of her spine before looping around her waist and embracing her belly. Again. And again. Yes, she was his canvas, and what he created took its shape against her flesh, but his art didn’t happen without exacting a price from him, and in her peripheral vision, as he reached around her to secure a knot over her navel, she caught a glimpse of the erection set tight in his black jeans, and she felt the hitch of his breathing not quite hidden in the rhythm of right over left, left over right. As he crossed the ropes around her body, she felt the heat of his breath whisper along her back next to the weaving and twisting and soft swishing of the rope along her spine.

With a tug of the rope every pore of her body responded to the tightening just as he nestled a knot against the pucker of her bottom and her gasp sounded like a rush of wind in the stretching silence. Meinrad gave a little pull and her clit hardened in empathy with the pressure between her buttocks. Then without warning, he slipped an arm around her and turned her over as he pulled two strands of rope up between her legs, up tight against her upper thighs like the elastic of knickers, or a tightly cinched climber’s harness. That done, with a deft movement of his fingers he secured a knot just over her clit, and this time she cried out in the strange mix of discomfort and arousal. The whole gape of her was pressed between the two strands of rope, knotted at fore and aft like a ship, narrow and thick-hulled.

There was barely time to get used to the strange rub and pressure between her legs, or the knot that felt like the tip of a thick finger attempting to breach her bottom, before Meinrad began to bind her thighs to her lower legs and ankles, making the position in which she knelt mandatory. With each knot, with each looping of the rope, he forced her bent legs further apart until she was wide open, yet at the same time held closed by the ropes between her legs. Bound and kneeling on the bed, she tried to breathe deeply, tried to fight back the panic of her own helplessness, something she had never experienced before. She was dangerously close to hyperventilating, and Eleanor seemed to be completely absent from the whole event.

‘Shall I continue?’ Meinrad asked.

*****

K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she, cuz otherwise, what would she write about?

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening or walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband recently walked the Coast to Coast rout across England. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots.

K D has erotica published with Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Erotic Review, Ravenous Romance, Sweetmeats Press and others.

K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Heatwave trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Book two, Riding the Ether, is now available.

K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall.

http://kdgrace.co.uk
http://www.facebook.com/KDGraceAuthor
http://www.twitter.com/KD_Grace

Guest Blogger: Bel Anderson

by | Jan 28, 2013 | | 2 Comments

Erotica and Me.

I have a dirty mind and a vivid imagination. Way back when I was a virginal 13 or 14, my best friend and I used to spend Saturday evening sleepovers writing ‘stories ‘ – in the form of scripts starring ourselves as the main characters, to be read out for extra comic effect – which involved meeting and (inevitably) having sex with members of the band ‘The Boomtown Rats’. To add a little squeal value, we used to often graphically describe each other having sex with the Rat we liked the least. If I was writing, I got my favourite (Bob, always Bob) and ditto for her. It was hilarious and I’d still love to have sleepovers and play that game – unfortunately, she doesn’t feel the same way!

I was the one who gathered sexual information from magazines, encyclopaedias, my parents’ collection of ‘Tree of Knowledge’ – anywhere. I explained to any innocent, ignorant friend (again, graphically I daresay) what blowjobs were, what cunnilingus meant, what an orgasm was.

Not one of my friends has expressed surprise that I am writing erotica!

If they were to read what I’ve written (to date, I don’t think any of them have and to be honest I haven’t really pointed them in that direction) they’d think I’m up to all sorts of sexual shenanigans, but this is where the imagination I used aged 13/14 comes in. I’d never had sex, but I described in one memorable story a ‘grinding’ as he moved his cock inside her (me!) When I actually got to have sex a few years later, I was delighted to find that there is a sort of grinding – not of the peppermill kind (unless a peppermill is your chosen instrument of pleasure, but that sounds like another story) – involved in sex. My imagination was correct!

I love to use my imagination to dream up situations and play that I haven’t experienced myself. That’s not to say that my husband and I don’t have a perfectly satisfying love-life, but we certainly have never been up to some of the things I’ve written about and are not likely to be in many cases. In my mind I get to do all sorts of things (safely in the guise of a character) with young, muscled, sexy men, in situations that I will never find myself in in real life. It has to be the biggest perk of writing erotica!

I read erotica – I love reading erotica. I have no idea whether what I read is based on the author’s experience or gleaned from reading erotica, looking on the internet, magazines… and it doesn’t matter. If it’s good, it’s good. If they can imagine what the sex act they’re writing about would feel like and describe it effectively, that’s enough for me.

My sister’s husband recently observed to her that I must be thinking about sex all the time as it’s what I write about. (Yes, it made it slightly difficult to meet his eye without giggling the next time we met!)

I can’t deny that I think about it a lot and always have (although possibly not quite so much when I was a mum with a head full of young children). It interests me greatly – in theory and in practise. It’s hard for me to be with couples without imagining them having sex. I find myself studying people at work, in shops, anywhere. Nobody is safe!

Smut AlfrescoErotica, to me, is the honest expression of something that fascinates all of us. Just like the act of sex itself, sometimes you might fancy ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am!’ and sometimes something a little more sensual and slow-moving. So far I’ve found something for every mood. Along the way I’ve also discovered a lot of writers to admire and some very high writing standards to aspire to. I’m delighted to have had a story accepted for Lucy and Victoria’s upcoming ‘Smut Alfresco’ collection. What excellent company to be in!

My other published erotica can be found here: http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_2?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=Bel%20Anderson&search-alias=books-uk

I’d really like to make some more bloggy friends, so if you’ve been reading this please do come and find me on http://belandersonwrites.wordpress.com or on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/bel.anderson.56

Finally, Lucy, thank you so much for having me here!

Bel x

Guest Blogger: Holly J Gill

by | Jan 23, 2013 | | 0 Comments

Firstly I would like to thank Lucy for allowing me to be a guest!!

My topic is about writing erotic/erotica romantic fiction and enjoy what you write.

Writing erotic/erotica fiction gets an audience, whether its “OMG that’s disgusting,” or “Wow, you really write that stuff, that’s naughty,” giggles. It comes with mixed reactions whether you’re shocked or intrigued. Sex, lovemaking is natural, a majority of us do it and actually like it, unlike the ones who like to be washing their hair! Whether you see Erotica as porn, hardcore, explicit disgrace, or shy away whenever the subject comes up, we are all entitled to opinions. However, on the other side, its lovemaking, passion, erotic, sexual intimacy and has its unique ways of having exciting fun, between consenting adults!

Erotica is a genre on its own, and not all about explicit sex, but if the story is structured well, with a good plot, setting and characters, it leads of into its own little word. The build up, the tension, passion and excitement and without the sex the story cannot be told, and would be missing the main highlights, it would be made boring, the sex is there to feel the appreciation and intimacy. But remembering to keep the story flowing and not just have it about the sex, add fantasises whether its dressing up or BDSM keeping the reader focused and enjoying the scenes, it’s the drive from the characters that make it special.

“Romantica” is used in romance and erotic, making it a huge category, but in these its not just holding hands these boundaries are removed, no limits, take it further and make the passion hotter than ever. They also like adding fantasy, mystery, science fiction or paranormal, keeping the story on its toes, just like any other fictions out there.

Erotica is unlike pure romances and looses the poetic euphemisms, making sure the story built up of the language and sexual imagery and these are used to drive the sexual tension.

After the recent success of Fifty Shades Of Grey it has finally opened the erotic/erotica world up. Finally able to go in a bookstore and see a novel of the genre on the shelves, and bookstands was exciting, yet again their was arguments and the book should only been seen on the top shelf, yet again the sex stigma. Young children can see it, yes they can, but they can also see thrillers with explicit murders being given step by step!

Now sitting down and actually writing an erotic/erotica, romantic novel with a good plot and characters can be challenging in itself. Personally keep writing as a hobby, write it for the pleasure, enthral the characters, plot and setting and love the journey. Submit to publishers with an open mind, become aware that if you get that contact it’s a bonus. It is hard no matter how many rejections you get and how disheartening it can be and you have low and high points, keep writing, keep sharing your imagination with your laptop, pen and paper. However, keep writing, hang in there! It is daunting the hours, time, and the research you put into the fiction but do it for the sake of your pleasure. I after years of writing secretly, I finally told my best friend about four years ago. Yes shocked, but she read my work and loved it. I never expected to be where I am today and thanks to Secret Cravings Publishers my first novel with Nikki Blaise is out there.

Getting everyone to agree to read erotic/erotica is a matter of opinions and it will always get the stigma. If you enjoy writing it, keep going, whether you write under a pen name or your own, keep going. Remember write for pleasure as the story unfolds within your heart. If it don’t fit, take it out, if it’s out of character get rid. You create these characters you know what they like and dislike, make them exciting and do crazy things it makes it more compelling, but keep the drive and enjoy what you write.

Happy writing and reading no matter what your genre!

DesiresDesires blurb

Desires—a place where fantasies are made flesh and dreams become real. From BDSM to being a dog, Desires can provide it with bells on, if that’s your kink.

Stacie Clifford’s only desire is to regain her sexual confidence after her recent escape from an abusive marriage. She joins Desires looking for re-education in the joys of her body. There is only one condition; her contract states emotional attraction between tutor and student is forbidden. Stacie is fine with that; her heart is so battered she has no desire to give it to anyone else.

Then she meets her instructor, Dan. Instantly attracted, at first Stacie thinks it will help to make her sexually comfortable with him. But when she realises she is falling in love, she can’t tear herself away, contract or no. Stacie knows that, no matter how kind and caring Dan appears, he’s just doing his job. Can Stacie overcome her own Desires and walk away?

Desires Excerpt

Dan moved closer to her and knelt at the side of the bath. He gazed deep into her eyes and then deliberately looked down at where her breasts were hidden under the cover of bubbles. His mouth was inches from hers. She could just lean forward and kiss him.

“How would you feel about playing with yourself in the bath? You could use your shower gel to soap up your breasts to start.”

Stacie looked at him, stunned, and glanced at the bottle of shower gel.

Well that wasn’t quite what I had in mind.

Stacie looked back at him. Was he waiting for her to begin? “With you watching?” she said, just to clarify.

“Yes, of course. I need to keep an eye on you. I have a feeling if I don’t keep watching, as soon as my back’s turned you’ll forget why you’re here.” His tone was teasing.

The idea was intriguing. What the heck? Why not? She raised her upper body up and slowly brushed off the bubbles so her breasts were on show to him. They gleamed from the water, and steamed slightly as they came out into the open air. Her smooth pink nipples crinkled and shrank in protest.

She watched Dan watching her breasts. His eyes flicked up and he gave her a smile, not abashed in the slightest. This close up, she could see details in his face she hadn’t noticed before. His lips were perfect and kissable, his cheekbones high and well-shaped. There was a slight scar, thin and about an inch long, on his right cheek. Stacie wondered how he had got it. His nose was elegant and his eyes looked like pools of chocolate framed by the kind of thick, dark eyelashes girls paid far too much money for. His gelled hair was styled in rough spikes and his stubble just cried out to have fingers rubbed over it. He was delicious.

She closed her eyes and dunked her head under the water, coming back up with her hair shiny and slick, plastered to her head. She felt like a mermaid. She ran her hands over her head and gazed at Dan, deliberately catching her lower lip between her teeth as she’d seen other women do. She didn’t want him to just be doing his job. She wanted him to want her.

Dan’s eyes were fixed on her. The candles in the room flickered in the damp atmosphere. Stacie took a bath puff from the side and squeezed a generous amount of shower gel onto it.

She lay back in the bath, bringing out her left leg from the water. Steam evaporated from her leg and she let Dan gaze at it for a second before leisurely applying the bath puff to her gleaming skin. She ran it down her thigh, then bent her knee, bringing her knee up to her chest and smoothing the bath puff down her calf, pointing her toe the whole time.

In her peripheral vision she could see Dan watching her keenly.

Holly J Gill Bio

Wife and mum of three children. I work as a care assistant at a residential home and in my spare time I write erotic/erotica romantic novels. My writing career started when I was a young child having a wild imagination. In my spare time I like visiting my friends, listening to music, watching movies and travelling the English countryside.

Links

UK Amazon

USA Amazon

Barnes and Noble

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/desires-holly-j-gill/1113938828?ean=2940015733853

Guest Blogger: Sidney Bristol

by | Jan 22, 2013 | | 0 Comments

We’re only a few weeks into 2013 and I can already tell you what I’m going to struggle with this year.

Balance.

10621209_mFor me, 2012 was all about writing. I knew I wanted to throw myself into that and I did. Maybe you’ve picked up a sport or a hobby or a relationship and devoted yourself entirely to it. We’ve all been here, where our sole focus creates our world, our focus.

Writing has been that for me. I live with the characters inside my head, the different plots and the antagonists who plot to take over the precious few hours I sleep. And I was happy because I knew it was what I wanted to do with that year.

But this year I want a more balanced life. I’ve made an effort to get more involved in my local community and in a few short weeks I swear I’ve doubled my number of friends. My social calendar has taken off. And I still need to fit writing commitments in there.

This isn’t a new struggle for anyone. It’s the need to prioritize things and complete due dates and still be able to make the casserole for Sunday lunch. It’s harder especially in the weeks and months after the new year because we’re all trying to cram more into our lives. More working out. More family time. More self improvement. More of everything!

In all of this, don’t forget to take a moment for yourself. This is something I struggle with. I have this crazy idea that I am Superwoman. That on my shoulders can rest the weight of the world. I can solve all problems, big or small. Nothing is beyond my capable hands. But that’s a lie. And I’m going to have to be okay with it.

How do you prioritize things though? For all of us it’s going to be different. You might be married, with or without kids, and that’s a whole other set of obligations. I’m single and unattached, no children and a family who takes care of themselves. I really just have to figure out prioritizing day job, writing job and social life. It’s not that hard, but when I’ve been so focused on writer me it’s a little jarring to have so many commitments.

Whatever your basket of responsibilities, make time for yourself. A bubble bath. A good book. A nice meal. Even Superwoman’s got to have a moment of rest.

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Sidney BristolIt can never be said that Sidney Bristol has had a ‘normal’ life.  She is a recovering roller derby queen, former missionary, and tattoo addict. She grew up in a motor-home on the US highways (with an occasional jaunt into Canada and Mexico), traveling the rodeo circuit with her parents. Sidney has lived abroad in both Russia and Thailand, working with children and teenagers. She now lives in Texas where she splits her time between a job she loves, writing, reading and belly dancing.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads | YouTube

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Bound with PearlsThe last thing Christine wants to do is another favor for her sister, but Lucy always gets what she wants. This time it’s Chris playing sub to a demanding Dom. Their relationship begins with a power exchange and progresses to time spent between the sheets. Now emotions are getting complicated and the Dom isn’t just a hunky guy in black.

Daniel’s expectations are turned upside down when he meets Chris. She’s more than a well-trained submissive. She’s a woman with a body he wants to memorize. He’s willing to spend as much time as it takes to learn her, because she might be his match and his muse. He’ll make her come so hard he’s imprinted on every inch, and then he’ll offer her the most precious thing he can, himself.

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