New Release – Fall (Natalie’s Edge #2) by R.B. O’Brien #EARTG #BDSM #romance #erotica

fallBlurb:

At the edge of trust often lies a little betrayal…

As Shakespeare wrote, “The course of true love never did run smooth,” and the love between Michael L. Black and Natalie Smith is no exception.

Having fallen deeply in love with one another, Michael and Natalie’s passionate and, at times, tumultuous relationship continues to teeter on the edge of happiness as they explore their deepest and sometimes darkest desires of games, bondage, and sex. Michael’s dominant tendencies thrive as Natalie craves to submit her body and mind to him, bringing her to sometimes excruciating pleasure. Love never felt so right.

But their relationship will be tested. Truths are hidden. Secrets are revealed. And when Michael’s insecurities inflame his penchant for control and punishment, all the trust and love they have worked so hard to build dismantles itself within one split second. Will they forgive and trust one another again? Or will the betrayal leave them on the edge of devastation?

Buy Links:

Extasy Books | Amazon UK | Amazon US

 

EXCERPT:

He crouched over me, like a lion over its prey, his eyes burning holes into my body, looking me up and down, undressing me, and fucking me with his now black eyes. I couldn’t help but moan, losing any anger I had towards him. Only lust remained as I squirmed under his gaze. He rolled onto his side.

“Stand up. Take off your costume, Natalie. Let me look at you. And do not hesitate, do not overthink this, or become shy, or let your guilt take over. Obey me this time, would you? I want to see your body. You’ve teased me enough with this outfit tonight, don’t you think?”

Oh my god. I had teased him? What? To think that I had some effect on him, the way he affected me all the time, was liberating, empowering. I slowly stripped as he stayed lying down on the rug, head propped on his elbow, staring up at me. I was embarrassed at how quickly I had lost my anger, how quickly I always lost my anger around him. Only moments earlier, I was ready to tear into him, give him a solid piece of my mind. Now, I was dripping wet and at his mercy. I liked obeying him. Plain and simple. It turned me on.

“Wait. Leave on those tiny, taunting panties of yours, and put your pointe shoes back on. Get up on your toes, Natalie, and stay there for me. Let the fire warm and illuminate your beautiful body.”

My empowerment was lost, replaced with an uncomfortable embarrassment, but I did exactly as he asked. I finished tying up my pointe shoes, got on my toes with my back facing him, the fire warming my front, and looked over my shoulder at him shyly. He just stayed there, staring at me, for what felt like an eternity. But god, I wanted him more than I ever had before. “You are so frustrating,” I whispered. “I was so mad at you.”

“Sssh. No talking,” he said darkly. “Stay right there. Do not move a muscle. Or I will punish you.”

I obeyed, staying on my toes, tightening the muscles in my legs, my ass. It was beginning to hurt.

“You’re beautiful,” he said simply, barely above a whisper.

“Michael. It’s starting to hurt. I can’t hold it much longer.”

“Good. I want you to hurt for me. I want you to feel what I felt earlier.”

I could feel my body weakening. I began to shake. I looked back at him, pleading with my eyes for him to stop, and yet, I loved his control. I had a sick desire to obey him at all turns. Pain and pleasure always felt right with him.
Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he finally said, “Good girl. Come over here.” He smirked at the power he wielded over me. “Lie down next to me on your stomach. Spread your legs. I am going to grant your wish.”

I held my breath, as again, I did exactly as he asked, lying down on my stomach, inches away from his body. The cramps in my legs slowly subsided. He turned my face to the side to force me to look at him. “Breathe, Natalie,” he instructed as I exhaled into his now probing mouth. He flicked his tongue and sucked my mouth. I moaned and began to grind slightly into the soft, plush rug that tickled my body underneath it. He kissed me and kissed me and kissed me. There was no other contact between us. I wanted his cock in me.

“Fuck me,” I begged again.

“Yes,” he said, but did nothing but continue to kiss me, holding my swollen mouth to his with his hands tightly gripping my hair. I could barely breathe. I couldn’t move.

“Michael…”

He released my hair. I felt the heavy pressure of his lips against mine. He began to lightly flick his tongue on my tongue, teasingly, sensually. He was dripping in confidence as he smiled and licked me endlessly. I had never been turned on like this from mere kissing. My pussy throbbed, lying on my stomach, waiting in anticipation for him to fuck me.

He stopped all contact with me and stood up, slowly removing his jeans to reveal his throbbing cock. He smoothed a condom over it and saying nothing, he stood over me, removed my soaking wet panties, and spread my legs wide with his feet until I was sprawled out completely in front of him, flat on my stomach. I wiggled my pussy into the rug, and he still said nothing. He didn’t tell me to lie still. He didn’t tell me to be quiet. He just stood there, agonizingly, over me, as I lay there, feeling exposed and helpless and full of want and need.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he got down on his knees and again, just stayed there, tracing his fingers over my pointe shoes, up my calves over the ribbon laces, as my breathing quickened and my chest rose and fell in heaving anticipation. I was starting to lose my mind, panting, squirming, and wanting.

“Please,” I begged.

He slowly rubbed the tip of his cock up and down my slit, exposing its wetness and I moaned, lifting my ass a bit in the air to reach his cock. Again, he said nothing, but he thrust his palms forcefully on my ass and lower back, pressing me into the soft fabric of the rug again. He held me in place, legs spread wide, as he tickled my pussy and clit with the light stroke of his cock. I moaned and started to grind against his cock and he slammed it into me, startling me.

nataliesedgeseries

Author Bio and Links:

I can’t remember not reading.  Even now, I constantly toggle between two to five books on my Kindle in all genres.  But I have always been drawn to the more taboo side of storytelling, even as a young adult, from hiding books from my strict Catholic parents as a tween, to getting lost in the erotic section of my favorite bookstore for hours as a college student, discovering such greats as Henry Miller and Pauline Réage.

In my own writing, which I can’t describe as anything but a “trance-like compulsion,” I like to explore the darker nature of relationships, those riddled with the reality of insecurities and human folly.  I am drawn to expose the vulnerability, emotional turmoil, and occasional pain that can come from losing oneself in the heat of passion.

I hold a degree in English literature and happily reside in the Northeast. I teach English and Shakespeare by day and write erotica every other chance I get. My writing comes from some hidden, unrecognizable place, very different from the reality of my waking world.  I am in love with E.E. Cummings and try to embrace the philosophical idea of “Since Feeling is First” when I write my stories.

Email:  rbobrien120@gmail.com
Website:  http://rbobrien.weebly.com
Twitter:  https://twitter.com/rbobrien120
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rbobrien120
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25542300-fall

releaseblitz_fall

Out Now – The Alpha Match by Leigh Archer (Untamed Safari Book #1) (@leigharcherbook) #romance #contemporary

The_Alpha_Match_by_Leigh_Archer-500RED-HOT ROMANCE GOES ON SAFARI  

English conservationist, Caro Hannah, and South African, Ben Duval, must work together on a project to introduce endangered wild dogs to an African game reserve, four years after their love affair ended. The challenges of their profession pale into insignificance beside the personal obstacles they must overcome in order to either bring closure to the events of four years before, or reignite a passion hot enough to burn up the African bush.

The Alpha Match is the first in a series set in the African bush where luxury tented camps and romantic hideaways are havens for royals, celebrities and the adventurous at heart. The Untamed Safari Series places unforgettable men and women in this captivating setting and holds its breath as they play out their red-hot passions.

BUY LINKS:
Tirgearr Publishing: http://tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Archer_Leigh/the-alpha-match.htm
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1QhNDIW
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1buj6b7
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/528008?ref=cw1985

EXCERPT

Caro was aware that her voice was rising, but she could do nothing to stop it. Now was as good a time as any to speak her mind. ‘As a matter of fact, if you could stop all the wars on this planet, solve world hunger and reverse the effects of global warming, I’d still feel nothing for you.’

It was the briefest look of pain flitting across his face that silenced her. Then his mouth hardened and his eyes blazed. ‘I’m your boss, Caro.’ He spoke very slowly, his voice vibrating deep in his throat. ‘All I’m asking from you is some respect. Your unwillingness to greet me at the meeting today; that wasn’t very mature, was it? How far do you think we’ll get on this project if that’s the way things are going to be between us?’

Caro was stung. ‘If you think I’m going to be anything other than professional, then you really don’t know me at all. I’ve worked for five years to save the African wild dog and I’d never do anything to jeopardise this project.’

‘Oh, I believe you,’ Ben said. ‘Nobody knows better than I do just how ambitious you really are. As a matter of fact, what was I thinking? Of course you’d never let anything get in your way, least of all other people’s feelings.’

Caro gaped.

He leaned towards her. ‘I’m right, aren’t I, Caro?’

Again he stared into her eyes, his own narrowed and filled with fire.

She could see the cords of muscle beneath the golden skin of his neck. Her breath came in small, silent gasps, and she pressed a hand to her chest.

Ben’s gaze travelled slowly from her face to the hand against her naked skin. He opened his mouth, closed it again. His body tilted towards her, his fingers heading for the bunch of towel between her breasts. Then he snatched his hand back, shook his head, turned and started for the door.

releaseblitzbutton_thealphamatchAUTHOR BIO – LEIGH ARCHER: 

Leigh writes romance novels set in her native South Africa. She has always had a love affair with Africa’s wild open spaces, the intensity of its people and sunsets. Her love of storytelling began as a child when she spent every spare moment playing barefoot in golden grass, watching meerkats, learning to track spoor and dreaming up heroes and heroines dynamic enough to stand out in all the beauty and drama of the African landscape.

Always in search of adventure, Leigh’s journey as a writer has taken her from journalist to communications specialist, and now novelist.

AUTHOR URLs:
http://leigharcher.yolasite.com/
https://twitter.com/LeighArcherBook
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Leigh-Archer/299910886869499
http://leigharcher.blog.com
http://amazon.com/author/leigharcher

Boy Toy – The Cougar Journals Book 2 by Jewel Quinlan (@jewelquinlan)

BoyToy-evernightpublishing-jayaheer2015-3Drender (2)Blurb:

Left hot, bothered, and disappointed by Grant—the man she had high hopes for—Ava breaks up with him and heads out on a ski weekend with a group of friends. Harrison, a twenty-three year old member of the group, can’t help but take notice of her and makes advances. Some of which Ava can’t brush aside when they are stuck sharing a room together. Will she give in to Harrison’s moves or go home and work things out with Grant?

Where you can buy Boy Toy:

Evernight Publishing  |  Amazon  | Amazon UKAll Romance eBooks  |  BookStrand

Add it to your shelf on Goodreads

 

Enjoy this excerpt from Boy Toy:

The covers shifted again and I could feel the section near me, behind my back, lifting as he scooted closer. The warmth of his body was settled very close to and almost against mine, mirroring my shape like a puzzle piece. His voice was a low whisper in my ear, a single-syllable question. “Spoon?”

My mind went through rapid-fire calculations. Spoon? What would be the consequences of that? Should I do it? I churned through the outcomes of either saying yes or no but, after a moment, threw my pros and cons list out the window as the conclusion of, what the hell, why not? came to me. He was cute and I could use a little spooning. It wasn’t something I got to do often.

“Mm-hm.” I scooted backward into his embrace.

He slid his hand around my waist, his fingers sliding along my rib cage all the way around until he was cupping my other side. Then he nestled his face in my hair and inhaled my scent. “You smell nice,” he whispered.

“Thanks,” I murmured back. For some reason I kept my voice low as if talking too loud would break the spell. It felt so good to have all six feet of his firm body stretched along mine. Even pressed against my back I could sense the various muscles making contact with me. The slow rhythm of his breath just skimming my ear was nice. I let go of all the typical female questions that rose up in my mind at the scenario and enjoyed the moment.

There had been so many times in my life I had imagined waking up in bed with my husband just like this, feeling a new day awakening with me safe and cozy in my true love’s arms. It was one of those dreams that, now, was becoming painful to replay as my singleness continued to stretch out year after year. In a moment like this it was easy to take it out of the closet, dust it off, and use it as a sort of atmosphere to what was actually going on. When things like this happened it reinforced the fact that I really did want to get married. It was just a matter of Mr. Right showing up. No matter how my logical mind kept trying to force Grant into the shape of that hole, my true self stood back shaking its head and saying, “It’s not going to work. There’s too big of an issue there.”

After a few minutes of laying in silence together with the rise and fall of our chests matching, I could feel myself starting to slip away again into dreamland. But then Harrison shifted his hips, scooting closer to my backside. My eyes shot open as it registered exactly what was pressing against my ass and lower back.

Morning wood!

 

Jewel 20About the Author:

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.

**Jewel will be attending RomCon 2015 in Denver CO September 25-27. Readers can get tickets to sit with her at the reader luncheon event.

 

For more information about Jewel Quinlan

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

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

Her Own Devices by Lisabet Sarai #lesbianerotica #lisabetsarai #steampunk

Her Own DevicesBlurb

In Her Own Devices, Lisabet Sarai collects her favorite stories of lesbian desire into a single volume. Meet Ally, former gang member, whose fears losing her identity along with her tattoos in the skilled hands of laser technician Luisa. Get to know butch firefighter Wilhemina “Billie” Macdonald, struggling to recover from the disastrous accident that killed her best buddy, with the help of a rather unconventional psychotherapist. Lick your lips at Goth rock chick Mina, barely into her twenties but brazen as sin, and velvet-clad, cigar-smoking Silicon Valley siren Dr. Marta Hausman.  Share Sister Kathleen Patrick’s confusion and arousal as she finds herself drawn to a most unsuitable partner. Experience submissive femme Jana’s ultimate surrender to her Daddy’s ropes, clamps, and ice cream sundae.

Each of these nine luscious tales will introduce you to distinctively different women. Each demonstrates that, left to her own devices, a woman can find what she needs—passion, comfort, love, healing—in another woman’s arms.

Buy Links

Direct from Ladylit:
ePub for for iPad, iPhone, Sony eReader, Nook and other devices
Mobi for Kindle
PDF for any computer or device

 

Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
Amazon DE
Amazon AUS
All Romance
Smashwords

Add to your Goodreads Shelf:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25524363-her-own-devices

 

Excerpt

“I told you to make yourself comfortable. Do I have to discipline you to get you to obey me?” She gestures at me with the crop. I’m simultaneously terrified and terribly aroused.

“No – no, Ma’am.”

“Get those clothes off, then. Now.”

I strip as quickly as I can, acutely aware of her dark eyes on me. In thirty seconds or less, my clothes are in a tangled pile on the cushions. I stand naked in front of her, suddenly embarrassed  by the dark fuzz on my legs and in my armpits.

Marta inhales, deep and slow, then releases the smoke through pursed scarlet lips. She is silent as she circles my body, judging me. She’s achingly close, but she does not touch me. I tremble every time I sense her moving.

She pauses behind my back, and brushes the riding crop lightly over my buttocks. I freeze. Will she beat me, mark me, make me hers? I brace for the pain, fearful yet strangely eager for the new sensation. Instead she places the crop where I can see it on the lounge.

“Not today, little one – not this time. Not as long as you are a good girl.”  I feel her heat, smell her musk mixed with the fruity cigar scent. My legs are rubbery, unstable. She massages my buttocks, molding them in her palms. All at once I feel her finger sliding from behind into my soaking cunt. I clench my muscles around the slender digit, trying to keep her inside me, but she slips free and holds her finger in front of my face. I breathe in my own damp, ripe aroma.

Her voice next to my ear is soft and smooth as velvet. “You certainly are a wet little girl, Loretta. A deliciously wet little slut.” She pulls my plait out of the way and kisses me just below the earlobe. Her lips send shivers racing through me, electric arcs that spark across my nipples and converge on my clit.

I’m dying for more, but she pulls back after that brief caress. Her fingers ghost down to the small of my back, where she pulls off the elastic that secures the braid. “When you’re with me, I want your hair loose, free. I want to see it flowing over your shoulders.”  She arranges it that way as she speaks, then circles back around to evaluate the effect.

“Much better.” She flicks a lock away from my breast, almost but not quite touching me. “But I certainly don’t want to hide those adorable tits.”  Seating herself on the chaise, she beckons me to her. My nipples are just at the level of her lips. She warms one with her breath, and it tightens visibly. I want to scream, to beg her to touch me. She’s running this show, though. We both know that.

She fastens her mouth on that needy nipple. I close my eyes as  pleasure and relief overwhelm me. She sucks steadily. My clit twitches and dances as if her mouth were down there instead. I moan and try to rub my hungry pussy against her robe. She bites down hard on the swollen bud of flesh between her lips.

“Ow!”

“Naughty little slut! Maybe I need to use my crop after all!”  Her actions don’t match her words, however. I imagine her seizing her instrument of punishment and throwing me over her lap so that she can chastise me. Instead, she sinks to one knee in front of my pussy and opens me with her mouth and fingers.

 

About Lisabet Sarai

LISABET SARAI writes in many genres, but F/F fiction is one of her favorites. Her lesbian erotica credits include contributions to Lambda Award winner Where the Girls Are, Ippie-winning Carnal Machines, Best Lesbian Romance 2012, Forbidden Fruit: Stories of Unwise Lesbian  Desire,  and Lammy-nominated Coming Together: Girl on Girl. Her story “The Late Show” appears in the recently released Best Lesbian Erotica 2015. Her first stand-alone lesbian title, The Witches of Gloucester, was release in March by LadyLit.

Lisabet holds more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by her explicit literary endeavors. She has traveled widely and currently lives in Southeast Asia, where she pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to her writing. For all the dirt on Lisabet, visit her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com).

The Professor’s Student by Bronwyn Green (@Bronwyn_Green)

The Professor's StudentBlurb:

Six weeks in Ireland on a Bronze Age archeological dig is exactly what Josie Cooper needs. She loves teaching, but fieldwork is where her heart is, and working with Professor Declan O’Shaughnessy is a dream come true…until she meets the man. Declan is brilliant, gorgeous, and unapologetically arrogant. By the end of the first week, Josie is ready to push him into the Atlantic.

Unfortunately, annoyance doesn’t stop her physical reaction to him. Nor does it stop the way every accidental touch makes her crave more. More of his hands on her skin. More of his lilting voice in her ear.

Knowing Josephine Cooper’s reputation in the archeology world, Declan is thrilled that she’d accepted his invitation to work the dig. However, he hadn’t counted on his overwhelming attraction to the American professor. Though he tries to maintain his distance and keep things professional between them, that plan goes to hell when he learns that Josephine returns his interest. And when an opportunity to act on that attraction, as well as explore her submission, presents itself, he jumps at it—taking complete control.

For the next five weeks, Josie agrees to submit to Declan. His instruction awakens needs she didn’t know she possessed, and she learns more about desire and herself than she would have thought possible. But what happens when their time is over, and Josie has to give up being his student to go back to being the professor again?

 

Excerpt:

Josie stared down at the remaining bit of metal in her palm and fought to keep from hyperventilating. Declan wanted her to put these little torture devices on her nipples. And wander around this pub without a bra.

“The loo is right back there,” he pointed out helpfully, a wicked smile curving his lips and excitement brightening his seawater-colored eyes.

“Okay.” She sighed.

“Okay…?” He was clearly waiting for something.

It clicked. “Okay, Professor.” She felt a little silly saying it, but a perverse thrill also shot through her veins as she did.

He nodded his approval, and she pushed her chair away from the table and walked back to the bathroom on trembling legs. She was really doing this. She was going to submit to Declan. She was going to let him do god knew what kinds of kinky things to her. And it was starting, right now.

Technically, she supposed it had started yesterday when she’d followed his directive not to masturbate. But now…now, it was far more real. And more than a little scary. But, for some reason, she trusted him. And she knew that, if she said her safeword, he’d stop.

Once inside the tiny, but surprisingly bright, bathroom, she ducked into an open stall and locked the door behind her. Pulling off her t-shirt and bra, she hung them on a hook. Then, she removed the clamp from the tip of her finger and nearly groaned as the blood rushed back to fill the neglected area. She glanced down at her chest, where her already hard nipples stood out in tight little buds—needy and aching.

Plucking and twisting one of them, she hardened it further before sliding the bars around the distended flesh and tightening the pins. Her breath caught at the squeezing sensation, and she cranked the screws a little more. Before she could chicken out, she repeated the action on the other side, clamping the tender tip between the skin-warmed pieces of metal until it matched the tight grip on the other side.

Breathing deeply, she slumped against the wall, the steel cold against her back, and tried to calm her body’s rioting responses. Her nipples throbbed, but the pain only ramped her desire for Declan higher. And her pussy flooded with moisture. If she’d been wearing panties, they’d be completely drenched. She was sure of it.

She wrapped her fingers around her shirt, but let go just as quickly. She had to know what it felt like. Declan said she couldn’t make herself come. He hadn’t said anything about touching herself while attaching the clamps. After all, she reasoned, she needed to make sure they were secure. That they wouldn’t fall off when she put her shirt back on. Holding her breath, she brushed her fingertips over her aching flesh and nearly groaned. They were more sensitive than they’d ever been. It was as if all her nerve endings were on high alert, and they were all focused on her nipples. She couldn’t help herself, she did it again. And again. Each brush of her fingertips created an answering tug in her cunt. She pinched the throbbing tips, and her pussy clenched tight. She had to force herself to stop, or she was going orgasm right there in that tiny bathroom.

She yanked her shirt off the hook and over her head, her breath hissing out when the fabric coasted over her swollen nipples. The normally soft cotton felt as if it was scraping against her skin. Balling up her bra in her hand, because she hadn’t thought to bring her purse into the bathroom with her, she stepped out of the stall and surveyed herself in the mirror.

Her nipples thrust noticeably against the knit fabric of her white, scoop-neck t-shirt. She yanked the fabric flush against her torso. The clamps were apparent when she did that, but they were pretty much undetectable when her top hung normally. It was painfully clear that she was aroused, but at least her reward wasn’t visible. She tugged her shirt down a little farther, exposing more of her cleavage. If the professor wanted to play, she’d give as good as she got.

Holding her head high, and thrusting out her chest a little more than was strictly necessary, she walked slowly back to their table. She kept her gaze on Declan and ignored both the subtle and obvious stares as she made her way through the crowd gathered near the bar.

As she sat down and shoved her bra into her purse, Declan’s eyes dropped to her chest then slowly climbed back up to hers. “I was beginning to think I should send in a search party after you.” His voice was suddenly rough with what she assumed was arousal. “Did you have any trouble?”

She held his gaze, but it was impossible to hide her smile, the pleasure she felt at toying with him. “Define trouble.”

He sat back and raised an eyebrow at her, crossing his arms over his chest. “Walk me through it.”

Leaning forward, she hissed as her nipples skimmed the tabletop. “I went into a stall, took off my shirt and bra, then I attached my reward.”

“And that’s it?”

“Well, I had to make sure they weren’t going to fall off,” she murmured, lowering her eyes and staring up at him through her lashes, wondering if she’d earned herself a mysterious punishment.

“And how did you do that?”

“I brushed my fingers across my nipples a few times. I didn’t want to risk losing them.”

“So, you were playing with your nipples?”

She nodded, stomach tightening nervously.

He leaned forward and drew a finger down along her breastbone. “And how did it feel?”

Her eyes closed at his roughly muttered question.

“So good,” she whispered. But, to her ears, it sounded like more of a groan.

“Show me.”

Her eyes flew open, and she stared at him. “What?”

“I said, show me.”

“In here?”

He shrugged as if unconcerned.

“I can’t do that now. There are people everywhere.”

“So, you’re ready to safeword, then?”

She knew a challenge when she heard one, and this one was unmistakable. “No.”

“No…?”

“No, Professor,” she murmured. Glancing around, she realized only one person was paying them any attention at all—just the bartender. And when would she ever see him again? Ignoring the man as best she could, she sat back in her chair and slowly skimmed her hands over her stomach, letting her fingers drift upward over the lower swell of her breasts until she reached her nipples. She brushed her fingertips over them a few times before pinching firmly, sucking in a harsh breath between her clenched teeth.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Declan breathed almost reverently. Or maybe it was irreverently given the reason for his declaration.

 

Buy Links:

Amazon UK | Amazon US | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | All Romance eBooks

 

 

Bio:

Bronwyn Green is an author, blogger and compulsive crafter. She lives Michigan with her husband, two kids and three somewhat psychotic cats. When not frantically writing, she can be found helping in her youngest child’s classroom or binge-watching Netflix while working on her latest craft project. Bronwyn loves to talk to her readers and can be found at www.bronwyngreen.com.

Social Media Links:

Twitter: @Bronwyn_Green
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bronwyn.green.author
Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bronwyngreenauthor
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/bronwyn_green/
Blog: https://bronwyngreenblog.wordpress.com/
Website: http://www.bronwyngreen.com

Guest Blogger: Amber Morgan (@AmberMothling)

Through Her EyesBetween submitting THROUGH HER EYES for publication and completing the final edits, I found myself reading a lot of true crime books. Lots of stuff on criminal profiling, unsolved cases, and serial killers. It was coincidence, but it was also great timing when the edits came in! I didn’t want to make the story procedural-heavy, but as the hero, Dom, is a police detective, I think I was able to make him a little more real by working in some of the facts I’d picked up. I was also able to flesh out the villain of the story by adding in little behavioural cues based on real-life serial killers. I didn’t want to shoehorn anything in, like “look at me, I read some stuff!!!”, but hopefully the extras I did squeeze in help to build the tension and chills in the story!

*****

Excerpt:

Cold hands seized her, wrapping round her throat in an iron grip. The scream that spiraled up in her lungs was crushed from her. He shoved her hard against the wall, face first. If there’d been any air left in her that would have knocked it out. The brickwork scraped her cheek and the stinging pain brought tears to her eyes.

She felt him push against her, his body hard and unrelenting. Through the flimsy material of her skirt, she felt his cock strain against her ass cheeks. Horror turned her stomach and she tried to struggle, kick, anything that might free her. It was impossible. He was strong and unyielding. He put his lips to her ear and whispered, “They all try to fight. They all fail.”

His words were like an icy lance through her heart. She whimpered, the only sound she could make while his fingers squeezed at her throat. Her vision was blurring, growing steadily darker as her heart fluttered uselessly against her ribs. He was going to hurt her and she couldn’t stop it. It would be a mercy to lose consciousness.

And then she felt the blade against her cheek.

His voice was rough with dark pleasure. “Say goodnight, sweetheart.”

*****

Blurb

Six years ago, Keira nearly died at the hands of a serial killer. The experience left her with more than just physical scars. She was psychically linked to the killer, a helpless witness to all his crimes. Now the man known as the Shoreditch Slasher has killed again, and Keira is dragged right back into his path. Detective Dom Abbott believes Keira’s link to the killer will help the police finally catch him, even if it means putting the woman he loves in danger. With Dom to protect her, Keira is willing to risk almost anything…But where will her strange gift lead her?

Buy links: Amazon UK | Amazon US | Evernight Publishing

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Author Bio and Links

Amber is the secret identity of a writer who normally pens urban fantasy, but feels like stretching her wings. Amber loves darker romance, anti-heroes, good red wine, and expensive chocolate (sometimes all at once). She’s based in the UK and lives in an adorable cottage with her dream man and a demanding cat.

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/AmberMorganWrites
Twitter – https://twitter.com/AmberMothling
Blog – http://ambermorganwrites.weebly.com/