The Collector – An Anthology Re-released! by Kay Jaybee (@kay_jaybee)

kj-thecollector-200It’s been ten years since I first wrote my linked anthology style novel, The Collector, and almost eight years since it was first published.

Recently the rights to the original books manuscript returned to me, and so I decided to re-edit the whole book, give it a brand new cover, and to add in 2 HOT NEW STORIES!

With the re-release of this, my very first solo full length piece on the 17th May, I’ve found myself looking back to The Collector’s origins. It all began one early morning sat in a crowded coffee shop at Heathrow airport, while I was talking to a very dear friend on the phone, while awaiting a flight.

It was due to that brief conversation that, not only was the idea for The Collector conceived, but that I privately made the decision to stay in the world of erotica writing, and not branch out to try my luck with other genres.

 

Blurb

Gathering salaciously erotic stories against an everyday backdrop of bus trips, train journeys, coffee shops, and restaurants, The Collector documents a wide variety of sexual encounters as she travels Great Britain.

The Collector’s research takes her into every arena of the erotic experience, from love, lust, submission and dominance, to voyeurism and beyond.

Are you brave enough to see if it was your supposedly private conversation she overheard – and then wrote down?

 

Before writing The Collector I’d already had a far number of short stories published, and was bursting with plenty of ideas for new ones. However, I wanted to write something longer; something that was as long as a novella or short novel, but which had the variety of an anthology.

I digress…so there I was sat sipping coffee at the airport when my friend called me. All he said down the phone was “go buy The Observer newspaper.” Curious, I did just that, and there, between a front cover shot of Joan Collins, and a back cover advert for new encyclopaedia’s, was an article all about female erotica writers.

Back then, erotica was an even more of a hidden world than it is now, and as I read I knew I wanted to stay part of it. Enthused with new zip and a determination to be every bit as successful as those brave women revealing their secret writing persona’s to the press, I extracted my ever ready notebook from my bag, and began to look at the people around me. I wanted to write- but where to start? As I watched the ever moving crowd, I began to wonder what each individual would want me to write for them. What would their fantasies be? What kinky secrets of their own would they share given half the chance?

It was from these musings that the idea for The Collector was born. A book of stories ‘collected’ by a woman in pursuit of as many sexual exploits as she could. And what better way to start, than to combine my own dream to one day be a successful writer of erotica, and the fantasy of one of my other friends, who (like so many others, be they male or female) visualises being picked up by a beautiful intelligent woman for sex in a no strings attached way. This story became, New Territory, the first of kinky work within The Collector; a tale which had been completely drafted by the time my plane reached its destination.

My search then began in earnest for interesting triggers, ideas, and sexy dreams, to turn into stories. Some very short to stimulate the readers imagination, such as Jay (a lesbian night club orgy) and Crushed (an interesting way to pass the time in a bar queue). Others much longer, such as Sweets (a must read if you like liquorice) and Treasure (a young man’s dream come true!).

I knew it would be a gamble including the very short tales- as they either really appeal, or really frustrate- but on the whole the feedback from my reader’s has been good. It would also be true to say, the shorter stories were much harder to write than the longer ones, but were a lot of fun to construct around the fantasy’s I gleaned from my sources of research.

So- how much of The Collector did I really collect? Well- that would be telling, but if I haven’t thanked my sources of inspiration already, then I do now!

It has been a joy to add 2 new stories to the mix! So, if you have already read The Collector, there is something new for you to discover within its pages in the shape of The Scottish Fantasy and Wrong.

The Collector is available as an e-book. It will be available as a paperback very soon!

Buy The Collector now, or read as part of your Kindle Unlimited subscription: http://getbook.at/thecollector

 

Extract – The Scottish Fantasy

Stacie gasped as the door opened. The dark shine to the man’s slate eyes as he regarded her and her friend Kate was in danger of taking Stacie’s breath away, and he hadn’t even spoken yet.

Tall, broad, with a tanned face and short spiked hair, a hint of stubble shadowed his square chin. Obviously surprised to see two young women walking through the woods so late on a winter’s afternoon, the ranger ushered them inside his wooden hut.

Introducing himself as Rob—Like Rob Roy! Stacie’s inner voice shouted at her. How perfect is that!—he looked at them enquiringly, ‘I dunna ken what you’re doin’ here, hens.’

Stacie’s brow furrowed. She’d thought that the Scottish spoke English.

Kate laughed as she saw her friend’s confused expression. ‘He means he doesn’t understand what we want, honey. “Dunna ken” means “don’t know” and “hen” is the local term for girl.’  Turning toward the ranger, Kate smiled. ‘This is Stacie, and I’m Kate. Stacie hasn’t got her ear geared into the local accent yet; she’s American.’

‘I guess that means an American accent.’ The ranger spoke so softly, Stacie felt herself melting on the spot. ‘I rather like those.’

Ignoring her friend, whose eyes were on stalks, leaving her in no doubt that Stacie was on an internal lust trip, Kate said, ‘We’re really sorry to bother you so late, but could you tell us where we are? We seem to be on a much longer trail than we intended to be, and we’ve lost the track.’

Rob’s dark eyes bored into her as she spoke. Kate couldn’t decide if their presence mildly amused him, or if he was merely tolerating the interruption to his work.

‘We’ve run out of water as well. Could we fill up our bottles here, please?’

‘It’s a good job you stopped, hen.’ The ranger pulled a map off his cluttered desk and pointed a thick finger at a red dotted line. ‘You’re here, on the all day walk. It’s called that for sound reasons.’

Lost in an erotic daydream, Stacie wasn’t listening to a word he said, just to the sound of his voice; the beautiful, gentle burr of his accent. She judged it fitted neatly half way between Ewan McGregor and Sean Connery.

When Kate had invited her friend over from the States for a couple of weeks exploring the Grampians of Scotland, Stacie had been thrilled. Not only could she catch up with her gorgeous friend and occasional lover, she could visit an area of the world that had always held a fantasy for her. Kilts, burly men in tight white vests, cabers being tossed, heather, whiskey, and mountains topped with snow.

The heather and mountains were a reality sure enough, as were the late night tots of warming whiskey she’d shared with Kate as they snuggled up together in the king-sized bed their Deeside hotel room provided. But until now, in this ranger’s office, hidden away in the woods near the flooded caves of Burn O’Vat, Stacie hadn’t seen anyone who even came close to the Celtic man of her late night fantasies.

Stacie felt mesmerised by the ranger. Despite the coldness of the late winter air he wore no coat, and his green sweater sleeves were rolled back to show arms honed by hard work. Forget kilts, this was as close to perfection as Stacie’s Scottish fantasy was ever going to get.

‘I’ll fill your bottles right enough, but if you’ll heed my advice, you’ll go back on the route you came. Far quicker and safer. It’ll be dark in about two hours.’

‘Thanks, I think we’ll do that.’ Kate watched as he took their empty water bottles over to his sink. His back view was as stunning as his front. The goldfish expression on Stacie’s face told her girlfriend that she was mentally undressing him, and Kate began to do the same.  Well aware that Stacie had serious fantasy issues where Scottish men were concerned, Kate wondered just how turned on her friend was. Did she have damp knickers? Were her nipples hard?

As Kate’s thoughts rambled, her own arousal began to tweak up a notch. Perhaps… She took a deep breath. Well, why not?

‘It must be lonely here, on your own all day.’ Kate knew the line was a bit lame, but she didn’t care. A sideways glance at Stacie showed that her lover had understood her intentions, and approved.

Rob didn’t look round. He didn’t need to. He could sense the two sets of eyes on his back; they were almost scorching him. Taking his time to fill the second bottle, the ranger thought the situation through.

Two of them, both hot totty. One a blonde, one a redhead. One English. One American. A tasty combination. Their bulky winter coats, sensible walking trousers and boots didn’t give much away, but he was willing to bet that once all the layers were off, they would be a sight to behold. He could be wrong, he supposed, but maybe…

Rob replied to Kate’s question. ‘I like it well enough, hen. I ken it’s quiet, but I like peace and quiet.’

‘So, you don’t get… lonely, then?’ Kate knew she was being blatant, but she didn’t care. If she could pull this off, it would be the perfect holiday present for her friend. Stacie, her mouth dry with anticipation, stepped forward. Pulling off her gloves to reveal pale hands with violently clashing purple nail-varnished tips, she took the full bottles from Rob’s hands. Making certain her fingers brushed his as she did so.

‘Thank you,’ Stacie purred as she passed one of the bottles to her partner. The tacit standoff that followed as tension rippled through the small office room-cum-workshop was eventually broken by Rob.

‘Would you lassies like something to warm you up before you go?’  His sentence, delivered in a deadpan tone, could have been suggesting something as mundane as sharing of a mug of hot chocolate, but his sparkling eyes hinted at so much more.

Stacie’s pulse quickened as Kate casually replied, ‘Well, if it’s not too much trouble, that would be lovely.’ Another normal sentence, but packed with enough eyelash-fluttering that she might as well have screamed out ‘Fuck us now!’

‘I was about to light the fire.’ Rob knelt at a small grate, already neatly piled with kindling. ‘Perhaps you’d like to lose your jackets for a while. When this takes, this place gets pretty hot.’

The girls’ eyes were drawn to the hopping, spluttering flames. They threw their coats over their backpacks, which they’d already dumped by the front door.

Taking his time with the fire, the ranger didn’t stir from where he crouched until it had taken to his satisfaction, and was smoking nicely up the chimney. Then, with a measured movement, he stood and faced his guests, who with unspoken agreement had divested themselves of far more than just their coats. Somehow Rob managed to keep his face passive as his eyes travelled from the top of each girl’s head down to their toes.

They stood naked. Holding hands. So, lovers in their own right, then. Nice. He smiled. It had been over fifteen years since he’d been with two women at the same time. A memory that kept him warm during the dark winter days and nights as he guarded the woodland and its wildlife.

Deciding against comment, Rob took a silent moment to choose which girl he’d treat rough and which one he’d simply treat. Then, with a pace that neither girl would have associated with the man whose previous movements had been so controlled and steady, he stripped…

Buy The Collector now, or read as part of your Kindle Unlimited subscription: http://getbook.at/thecollector

Kay - tantus

Bio

For over a decade Kay Jaybee has lived a nomadic existence across the British Isles, collecting stories as she travels.

Kay Jaybee was named Best Erotica Writer of 2015 by the ETO

Kay received an honouree mention at the NLA Awards 2015 for excellence in BDSM writing.

Kay Jaybee wrote The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (The Perfect Submissive, The Retreat, Knowing Her Place, Xcite 2011-14), The New Room, (Xcite, 2015), The Voyeur, (Xcite 2012), Making Him Wait (Sweetmeats, 2012), A Sticky Situation (Xcite, 2013), Digging Deep, (Xcite 2013), Take Control, (1001 NightsPress, 2014), and Not Her Type (1001 NightsPress, 2013.

Details of all her short stories and other publications can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk

You can follow Kay on –

Twitter- https://twitter.com/kay_jaybee

Facebook –http://www.facebook.com/KayJaybeeAuthor

Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/3541958-kay-jaybee

Brit Babes Site- http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk/p/kay-jaybee.html

New Release! Hearts & Handcuffs: Romantic Kink by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai)

Hearts and HandcuffsComplementary Fantasies

Why do I find BDSM exciting, to write and to read? It is not, primarily, the taboo nature of the topic. It’s not because I think that restraint or pain is pleasurable or sexy per se—though paradoxically, it might feel that way at the time. Rather, I’m drawn to relationships involving dominance and submission because of the way the desires of the top and the bottom interlock, like pieces of a puzzle.

The sub aches to relinquishes control to her master. She holds nothing back. She bares not only her body but her doubts, her fears, her secret fantasies. She lets down all her barriers, trusting her Dom to takes responsibility for her pleasure and safety.

Meanwhile, the dominant wants nothing more than to take that control when it’s offered.  He (or she) can exercise his will over his sub, do anything that pleases him, knowing that his actions also excite and satisfy her—because his pleasure makes her surrender more complete.

I love writing stories where everyone gets what he or she wants. Like the ones in this collection!

*****

X Rated Excerpt  (from  “Spank Me Again, Stranger”)

Jake retrieved her shoe. She remained there, unresisting, while he slipped her foot back into the sandal and tightened the strap. “Happy Birthday, Audra! You took that like a trouper.” His lips brushed hers for a moment, but were gone so swiftly she thought she might have imagined the gesture. “Everyone, let’s give our birthday girl a big hand…”

Audra stumbled off the stage and pushed her way through the cheering crowd. The pressure in her swollen pussy and the ache in her punished ass were her only realities. She had to get away, find some privacy, give herself some relief.

The ladies’ room was outside, behind the building. Audra followed the signs. She practically burst into tears when she found the one-person facility was occupied.

She couldn’t wait. Slipping into the shadows, she crumpled her skirt to her waist and yanked her panties down to her knees. The fabric scraped over her pummeled ass. Damn him! She wouldn’t be able to sit down for days. The perverse thought just made her hornier.

Spreading her thighs wide, she plunged two fingers into her slick hole while settling her thumb against her clit. Pleasure arced up her spine. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes…” she hissed. “Oh, yeah…”

She was on the brink already—right where that bastard had left her. Her clit spiked up, engorged and hungry. She worried it back and forth, rubbing furiously. No time for teasing. She needed to come, right now.

Her climax gathered, winding tighter, drawing closer but still out of reach. The wail of a bass guitar leaked into the night as someone opened the door of bar. He was in there, playing his music as if nothing had happened, while she pinched her clit and ground her fist into her cunt like a maniac. Damn him, she’d make him pay, she’d make him…

“Let me do that.” A massive man-shaped silhouette blocked out the stars.

*****

Blurb

Kink can be life-changing, cathartic, a spiritual experience. Sometimes, though, it’s just plain fun—particularly when your partner is someone special. Hearts & Handcuffs presents the lighter side of BDSM—the naughty joy to be found in exploring your pervy fantasies with someone whose desires complement your own—in six sizzling short stories that showcase Lisabet Sarai’s famously sexy prose.

In “Spank-o-gram”, a grumpy birthday boy receives an unexpected gift from his distant lover. “Wired” shows the extremes a woman will go to in order to get the attention of the man she wants. A neglected and frustrated slave turns the tables on her master in “Domestic Goddess”. In “Spank Me Again, Stranger”, a city gal learns how they celebrate birthdays out in ranch country. A case of mistaken identity leads to a dream come true in “Routine Maintenance”. The title tale “Hearts and Handcuffs” is a Valentine’s Day role playing romp, complete with costumes.

Open the cover, dive into Lisabet Sarai’s imagination—the ultimate aphrodisiac—and savor these gems of romantic kink.

Buy Links

Amazon  US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01FE2ADB4/

Amazon UK –  https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01FE2ADB4/

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/635210

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hearts-handcuffs-lisabet-sarai/1123779304?ean=2940153012407

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/hearts-handcuffs-romantic-kink

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30164967-hearts-handcuffs

*****

lisabetFaceAbout Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai writes in many genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Her debut novel Raw Silk  has become a kink classic, and her recent genre-busting BDSM erotic romance The Gazillionaire and the Virgin  has been praised as “realistic D/s with hot as hell kinky sex”.

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.

She’s Got It All by @JewelQuinlan Now Available in #Audiobook #ContemporaryRomance

*Link to trailer on YouTube:  https://youtu.be/_NAe-Du28pQ

 SGA Audiobook Cover

Blurb:

She’s living her dream, not knowing she’s stolen someone else’s…

For Kayla Cross, getting a job as a DJ at legendary club Grace in Ibiza is a dream come true. It’s what she has worked for her entire life. Even if she had to do it behind her parents’ back, like a dirty secret—then and now. She left everything behind in order to give it her all, and she finds it’s going to take far more than the level of confidence she has in order to pull it off.

Lex Granger thought the job was his. But it wasn’t. And not getting the DJ job means another season of bartending, and watching longingly as others play on stage. When his boss orders him to make Kayla feel at home, he almost rebels. But his need to pay bills wins over his emotions. He resents his competition but can’t help being affected by her sunny disposition, talent, and long, lean form. Walking the line between admiration and envy can be agony…

 

Where you can buy it

eBook:   Amazon  |  iTunes  |  Kobo  |  Nook

Paperback:  Amazon

Add it to your shelf on Goodreads

Audiobook:  Audible  |  iTunes  |  Amazon

Listening Time:  4 hrs 55 mn

Narrated By:  Melissa Moran

 banner

Excerpt:

Kayla had seamlessly taken control of the sound system a few minutes ago and the stuff she had been playing was good, better than the typical pre-recorded shit. But what caught his attention now was the sound of her voice. She was singing into the mic on her headset. Not lyrics but a beautiful stream of notes that seemed to flutter from her gut up to her vocal cords in a lilting sound that was captivating.

The notes she sang rose and fell, exotic and mysterious with the intriguing underlying beat. Her voice called, it drew…and soon women rose from their seats to the small dance area to move and sway with the music, and the men followed them. The same people who had been oblivious of the music a moment before as they’d smoked and talked were now giving their full attention to Kayla.

It wasn’t just the music that mesmerized them; it was Kayla herself. She was a vision. Her blonde hair gleamed under the lights, and her shoulders and hips writhed in a sexy dance, and all the while she continued to turn knobs and flip switches to make the music she sang to. She was absorbed in it and having a great time. Sometimes her hair flicked when she gyrated, as if in punctuation to her movements. Combined with the sound of her voice, she was like a beacon—the song of an angel caressing and drawing everyone in. It was like nothing he’d ever heard before.

Hola!” said a man in an aggressive tone, waving a one hundred Euro bill. “Can we get ten shots of Patrón?”

“Of course. Right away, friend.” Lex focused back in on his job.

It was awhile before he could come back up for air. But when he did, he noticed that the space was packed with bodies dancing to the music Kayla played. And, although she was keeping it mellow as instructed, it was the biggest crowd he’d ever seen on the terrace during the day. Security continuously went through, trying to keep key paths clear.

Hands holding cell phones were up in the air, outstretched toward her, as they took pictures and videos. Through it all, she wore the brightest smile he’d ever seen, occasionally lifting one hand to press the earphones closer. She changed the tempo to a faster beat and the crowd responded with cheers. She bounced up and down in joy, hand waving above her head with exhilaration, and the people lifted and pumped their fists in mimicry.

She was every bit as good as any DJ they’d had before and more. She was the embodiment of everything he thought he would have experienced and felt had it been him on the stage. Somehow, she caught him watching, and gave him a cheery wave. Embarrassed, he waved awkwardly back, and then pulled his eyes back down to the bar. And, even though he could acknowledge that Rick had been right, that she was good, he couldn’t help feeling the tiny nugget of palpable distaste lodged deep in his chest.

Jewel 17

About the author, Jewel Quinlan:

Restless by nature, Jewel Quinlan is an avid traveler and has visited 16 countries so far. Lover of ice cream, beer and red wine she tries to stay fit when she’s not typing madly on her computer concocting another tale. In her spare time she likes to do yoga, hike, learn German and play with her spoiled Chihuahua; Penny. It is Penny’s mission in life to keep Jewel from the keyboard. But, with the help of dog-chew-making-companies, Jewel has been able to distract her canine companion and continues to get thousands of words on the page for your enjoyment.

For more information about Jewel Quinlan

Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Tumblr  |  Goodreads  |  Amazon  |  Instagram  |  Pinterest

Or subscribe to Jewel’s newsletter if you just want to get the most important updates

A Taste So Bittersweet by October Weeks (@hauntedoctober)

A Taste So BittersweetTitle: A Taste So Bittersweet

Series: a Fiona Wesley novella (The Damned in the POV of a turned slayer)

Blurb:

Eight years ago, twenty-nine year old slayer Fiona Wesley was turned into a vampire. She survived her transformation but carries the nightmares and scars from the attack. Continuing to hunt the worst of her kind keeps her grounded, as does her new family. She does her best to stay away from slayers, but the past has a way of sucker-punching a person.

Now, not only is she facing the beasts that turned her, but also the one slayer that’s given her nightmares. A slayer that was once her best friend. All of that just as she’s taking her first steps into the arms of the man she loves.

Buy links:

*****

Excerpt:

“Fiona.”

Her name was spoken softly, in an old Danish tongue, and brought her through a sleepy fog. She couldn’t remember… What was she doing? Looking down, she saw that she was in a towel, sitting on the floor against the cool porcelain tub. The water was turned off. I must’ve fallen asleep before I even got in the bathtub.

“Sorry,” she whispered as fingers slid through her hair.

This happened when she went too long between feedings, though this time it was not of her doing. The depleting of reserves happened more quickly in her because of her active slayer blood. She would wake to find she had fallen asleep, her memory cloudy as to how she gotten to where she was and often, though not this time, her vision would be slightly blurred. But she hadn’t felt an urgency to feed when she turned the bath water on.

“Do not worry,” Mads said softly as he drew her to her feet so she wouldn’t feel so vulnerable with him. He rested his back against the wall as she fought to keep her head up. She was waking more and more, and realizing her surroundings.

“Feed from me, Fiona. You need the blood, min skat.”

Her body became aware of his closeness as he spoke, just as sunlight started to come into the room. She had not fed from Mads in almost two years, and she knew he had guessed the reason for that. It no doubt angered him to know she truly thought she didn’t deserve that kind of happiness, that kind of pleasure, after what she had done. And yet, knowing all of that, he never stopped calling her min skat; my treasure.

“You need to feed.”

The dawn began to golden the bathroom and she felt the weight of tiredness hit her again, anchoring her into it.

“Everything happened too fast,” she said, barely audible. He laid his hand on the back of her neck. “You know that. Sasha must have told you about the strigoi.”

“He did,” he said. “I know you do not wish to feed from me, Fiona, but my blood is stronger than all but one other in this house. It will strengthen you while you sleep.” His gentle tone made her meet his eyes. “You do not have to take much, just enough to replenish you. When you wake you will need to feed again until your reserves are full.”

She sighed heavily and leaned her forehead on his chest when the rising sun bathed the room fully, sweeping over her. She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of him, the luring sound of his blood in her ears. Masters such as he, as old as he, had blood that beckoned and tasted so good it was likened to the taste of chocolate for human women. So very tempting, and he was quite right—his blood would renew her system while she slept, and she could finish filling her reserves when she woke. The decision was easier to make with that on her mind.

Common sense was a slayer’s best asset, along with trust in one’s instincts. It’s what kept most of them alive. And a slayer she still very much was.

Mads sank a hand into her still up-do hair and massaged her scalp gently, and she let him feel her heavy need. He felt it when she made her decision and unbuttoned the last two buttons of his shirt, opening it wide enough for her to take from his chest.

“Take from me,” he whispered in her mind, coaxing her gently. “Take what you want, what you need, of my blood, min skat.”

She moved her head slowly back and forth, caressing his bare skin with her teeth. Her canines grew to an inch in length.

“Take from me. His voice caressed.

Fiona sank her fangs into his chest, just deep enough for a steady flow of blood. She retracted them so her mouth could cling freely to the smooth flesh just above the light covering of chest hair. He tasted far more enticing than she remembered: sweet, with a hint of honey and a touch of sea salt … and deliciously warm.

His hand in her hair tightened as he held her head to his chest, his other hand lightly touching her left hip. She knew he was fighting not to touch her like he wanted to, that he felt this moment was meant to be relished for what she could give, not for what he could very easily take.

“I forgot how good you taste,” she whispered in his mind.

He growled low, and his hand tightened slightly on both her head and her hip.

“You have enough, Fiona,he whispered, regretfully. “You may stop.”

Fiona took in one last swallow of his blood before stopping, letting out a moan that spoke volumes, even as soft as it was.

*****

Author Bio:

October Weeks is a paranormal/dark fantasy/horror writer and a reader with too many books and not enough shelves!

She lives in Vermont. Autumn is her favorite season- October and November are her favorite months. Loves: reading, writing, movies (horror, sci-fi, and fantasy especially), taking walks, fishing, and family. Obsessions: Lindt dark chocolate and the SyFy Channel.

She also writes paranormal and erotic romance under the name Libby Bishop.

Media Links:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/hauntedoctober
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/hauntedoctober
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/octoberlibby/
Tumblr: http://octoberweeks.tumblr.com/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/octoberlibby/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6471803.October_Weeks
Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/user/octoberweeks1?feature=mhee

Not Just Friends by Peri Elizabeth Scott

Not Just FriendsThank you for having me on your blog today!

Not Just Friends

Romance on the Go

Evernight Publishing

Published April 28, 2016

Blurb:

He has an insatiable penchant for tall, leggy blondes, and Taylor Simmons finds Nash Porter’s reputation unsettling, despite how much she likes the guy. As she’s come to learn over the years, there’s more to Nash than his assumed sexual prowess, and her short, brunette stature ensures their solid friendship will remain just that.

Except Nash has been invading her personal space of late, and that’s far more unsettling. It’s time to extricate herself from his sphere, because she can’t have anything more than a friendship with someone who reminds her of a past she conquered and left behind. Unless Nash can convince her otherwise…

*****

Excerpt:

“Taylor.” Christina made her name sound like a rebuke.

“Hi, Chris.” She concentrated on her driving, the speaker above her head crackling a little.

“You’re not here. It’s Thursday.”

“I told you I had to work. I left you a message.”

“Oh. Today?” Her friend wasn’t great at checking her voicemail.

“Today.”

“You should have texted.”

“Sorry.”

Voices swelled in the background and a door slammed. “Everyone’s here but you.”

“Again, I’m sorry. The client could only meet after work.” And on any day of the week, so Taylor chose Thursday. A couple of weeks without seeing Nash should put things back to normal.

“So it’s not… Wait a second.” Another door closed, and things were quieter. “So it’s not because of Nash?”

Wait. What? “You’ll have to speak up, Chris. I’m driving and hands free isn’t as clear.”

“It isn’t about Nash?”

“What about him?” There, a nice, nebulous response while she gathered her thoughts.

“Um, Bryan said… Well, he said Nash and you were … exploring something.”

No. And no. He did not. She gripped the wheel and checked her mirror, pulling into the outside lane and finding a place to drive off and stop. The little turnoff was graveled and it gritted beneath the tires, much the same way Christina’s newsflash ground in her brain.

“Taylor?”

“Sorry, traffic.” She slammed the shifter into Park and set her forehead on the steering wheel. Any softer feelings for Nash blew right out the window. “I don’t follow. The thing about Bryan and Nash.”

Christina huffed. “They were talking at work and Nash told Bry that he was interested. In you. Like dating.”

Her laughter might filter through the hands free as more convincing than it sounded in the confines of the car. Bad words hovered in her throat and she swallowed them down. She chose something frivolous to say instead. “What was he smoking?”

“I asked the same thing, Taylor. And you know Nash…”

“I do know Nash.” Taylor leaned her head back on the seat rest. “And I don’t date … guys who have a different woman every week, Chris. What, has he run out of tall, leggy blondes in this state? It’s not that far over the line into the next one. An easy drive.”

They both laughed, but in truth, Taylor felt like crying. She’d known Nash for five years, met him when Christina drew her into their little group. The ensuing years had evoked a deeper, more intimate relationship with all the members, including Nash. She knew his foibles and his strengths. He was a good man and a good friend, and in a short period of time, she managed to overlook—or at least not judge, too much—his way with the ladies. His incredible good looks went a long way, but after seeing them as often as she had, they didn’t have the same impact. Right?

His sense of humor and fairness, his caring for family and friends, kindness to animals, his strong work ethic, and total honesty made up most of the fabric that was Nash Porter. She flinched in that moment. Maybe he saw past Taylor’s definitely not leggy, blonde, and beautiful appearance and appreciated who she was behind her exterior. What had he said? Kind and gentle—when she wasn’t on a righteous crusade—and with a core of steel. Hardly superficial, when she thought on it. She stared into the rear view mirror, surveying her tousled brown hair that curled in any amount of humidity, but was soft with natural highlights, and framed her small face nicely.

Her eyes were her best feature, widely spaced beneath feathered eyebrows, their hazel depths shifting with her moods or reflecting the colors she wore. Today they were green. Green for uncertainty. She ran a finger down her straight nose and tapped her lips. She was pressing them too tightly together of late, so she relaxed them into their natural fullness. Centerfold material she was not, but she wasn’t ugly either. And she kept herself in shape, walking every day and finding time in her schedule for yoga.

Her just less than a C-cup breasts matched the rest of her, even if she sometimes longed to be a few inches taller. Standing on tip toes could be a bummer. With a sigh, she focused on the conversation with Christina.

“Sorry, Chris. I missed most of that.”

“I said for sure Nash must have run out of those blondes because he hasn’t been seeing anyone for weeks now. Maybe months. Like a drought. Haven’t you noticed the lack of references to any women in his life? The guys aren’t even bugging him about them. And he’s always around lately.”

Taylor was really glad she wasn’t driving. Her brain ticked over, sorting through the times Nash had “just happened by” at her work of late, with a cup of her favorite tea, saying he had business. It hadn’t made much of an impact, seeing as he was an architect and often consulted with the interior designers—including her—in her office building. He was being Nash, kind and thoughtful for a friend.

The teaming up with her on game night, blocking Graham’s attempts to partner her, was different, and more frequent. She liked Graham, but he drove her crazy when they partnered up. When she joined forces with Nash … they fit. They got one another and it felt so comfortable and fun. Tick, tick, tick.

Showing up to carry her groceries to the lift those two times when she’d bemoaned that task at game night—she hadn’t invited him in then either, and he’d given her that little salute when she’d thanked him and … dismissed him? Lord. Was she living in a different dimension? She hadn’t meant to be rude…

He’d been at the coffee house nearly every time she made it there—and Morris the barista and Nash exchanged those meaningful glances, like they had a secret. Tick, tick, tick. Had he been … courting … her?

*****

Links:

Evernight PublishingAll Romance eBooksAmazon US | Amazon UK | Bookstrand

*****

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About the author:

Peri Elizabeth Scott lives in Manitoba, Canada. Peribeth recently closed her part time private practice as a social worker and child play therapist, and now she and her husband have a seasonal business and pretend to work well together. Writing for years, mostly short stories and poetry, she has published dark erotica under another pen name and reads everything she can lay her hands on.

http://www.perielizabethscott.com/

Red-Light Wrangler by Bella Settarra (@BellaSettarra)

Red-Light Wrangler‘The Men of Moone Mountain’ Book 2

Can a bad reputation hide a good heart?

After realizing everyone he has been with only wanted him for his money, Rich Buchanan, the billionaire’s son, gives up the dream of a serious relationship and gets his kicks sleeping around. He prefers men, but he only brings home women, since his father would be horrified to find out Rich was gay. But secrets are hard to keep among the rich, and his antics soon earn him the nickname “The Red-Light Wrangler” when people discover that money exchanges hands whenever he sleeps with a guy.

When Nate Walker starts work as Assistant Foreman at the Buchanan Ranch, his good looks and gorgeous body immediately pique Rich’s interest. And despite the gossip, Nate can’t help falling for him, either. But when Rich’s cousin Joey decides to blackmail Rich to pay off his debts, he soon realizes he could get much more out of the situation. Outing his gay cousin and causing a rift between Rich and his father could be just the thing to secure his own position as Frank Buchanan’s sole heir.

Rich has no one to turn to but his lover. But Nate has secrets of his own, and his reasons for being at the ranch are not entirely honorable…

*****

Adult Excerpt

Suddenly Rich grabbed hold of Wyatt’s muscular arms and pulled him down onto the bed. He got up and stood over him, yanking the blond guy’s long, hairy legs over his shoulders. He heard a loud gasp as he hauled him down the bed to get a better position.

Wyatt grabbed a condom from the nightstand and passed it up to Rich. He snatched it out of his hand and grinned when he opened it. Ribbed. He rolled the rubber onto his pulsating dick and yanked the guy’s hairy ass open. He heard a yelp, but paid him no heed. He watched Wyatt screw his eyes shut and barked at him. “Look at me!”

Wyatt’s eyes shot open and he stared up at him. Rich had a sense of satisfaction at his control. He lined his cock up to the gaping asshole and stared into Wyatt’s eyes as he thrust past the tight rim.

“Aah!” Wyatt’s panicked eyes seemed to glaze over and his jaw tensed.

Rich massaged the guy’s ass with one hand, while stroking his cock with the other until Wyatt’s face relaxed. Then he pumped hard into him, eliciting another loud yell. The cowboy’s shouts soon became excited as the pain must have morphed to pleasure and he began grunting with each thrust. Rich grinned as he pounded hard into the guy’s ass. He needed this. He closed his eyes and Nate Walker’s face flashed into his mind. He felt himself grinning as he thrust harder and harder, visualizing Nate lying naked before him, Nate groaning in ecstasy.

When Rich opened his eyes they were watery and glazed. All he could see was a mass of blond hair on the bed and, with his mind still on Nate Walker, he moaned loudly. He felt the body beneath him thrusting back toward him and heard fevered yelps and groans. The fire in his belly was roaring now and he felt like his whole body was a raging furnace. He hammered hard into the ass under him, yanking on the dick in his hand. With a loud grunt the body he was fucking convulsed and he felt cum like boiling lava trailing down his hand. His own orgasm wracked him and he pounded hard into the guy’s ass, over and over. Lights flashed in front of his eyes and he heard himself roar as relief swept through him. He just kept thrusting until he was finally satisfied. His breathing was rampant as he slunk onto the bed next to his partner, and he felt the cool air wash over his sweating body.

Both men lay in silence, heaving at the air, eyes closed for several minutes. Rich’s eyes opened slowly and he stared at the face next to his. For a split second he had actually expected to see Nate Walker lying there, but realized in horror that it wasn’t. While Wyatt’s eyes were still closed, Rich shot to his feet and grabbed his clothes before heading off to find the bathroom down the hall. He disposed of the condom and splashed cold water over his face and torso. His breathing was still rapid and he took a glass of water to try to recover himself. Pulling his clothes back onto his still-sweaty body felt horrid, and he left his shirt unbuttoned, hoping that the cold night air would cool him off a bit.

His head automatically faced the bedroom when he retreated from the bathroom, but he thought better of it. Like a thief in the night he made for the front door and slipped out. The cold night air bit him hard, and he shivered as he climbed into his car. Opening the windows wide he relished the freezing cold of the wind as it swept through his hair and over his flushed body. He needed the cold. He needed the space.

He needed Nate Walker.

Buy Link: Amazon US | Amazon UK

*****

Author Pic CopyrightedAbout Bella Settarra

In Bella’s world all the heroes are gorgeous hunks and the heroines are always beautiful. Having said that, she firmly believes that ‘handsome is as handsome does’ and that ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’. (She is also a big fan of clichés as well as alliteration!)

She has been hanging out with her ‘imaginary friends’ for a couple of years now and finds the profession exhilarating and intriguing.  Her stories are all Erotic Romances, although they vary considerably in subject-matter.

She loves writing Cowboy Romances and was thrilled when the first book in her The Men of Moone Mountain series, (Etopia Press), entitled Ménage on Moone Mountain, received a nomination for the Ménage Romances Fan’s Award 2015 and became an ARe Bestseller, and the third book in this series, Ménage on Ryder Ranch was also nominated for the Erotic Ménages Romances 2016 . The fourth book in this series, Ménage at the Mode Boutique is now also available in digital format. She is currently writing another Cowboy series, Midnight in Montana (Siren Publishing), the first of which, Dallas at Midnight, is already available, with the second, Meet Me at Midnight due for release in June 2016.

Her Collar and Cuffs series (Etopia Press) also received an ARe Bestseller Award for Waiting on Summer, which has also been nominated for the BDSM Writers Con Golden Flogger Award 2016. This series was set in a BDSM club in Miami, and was a joy to write.

Her writing career began, however, in the fantasy/myth genre, with her first series Sirens and Sailors (Siren Publishing). Although this was a series of six novels, it actually started out as a short story! This was a delight to write and was proof positive that her High School Classical Studies lessons weren’t wasted.

She has also had a couple of short stories published in Men for Hire and Men for Hire 2 (Luminosity Publishing) and even had some rather raunchy poems included in Coming Together in Verse.

Not everyone is perfect – but it’s the character flaws which make them interesting, she believes. As in life, things don’t always run smoothly, but it’s the twists and turns which provide the drive to keep going, even when it just feels like an uphill struggle. Bella is currently fighting her own battle against breast cancer – a battle which she is determined to win – and believes that all women have the right to feel sexy even when they are battle-scarred.

She hopes you enjoy your foray into her world and would love to connect with you at:       http://bellasettarrabooks.blogspot.co.uk

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/bella.settarra

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Twitter: http://twitter.com/BellaSettarra

Email: bellasettarra@gmail.com