Friday, October 31, 2014
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Jake and Ivy Perform Their Own Style Of Dance In This Hot Historical Cowboy Erotic Romance; Jake and Ivy by Jane Leopold Quinn
Ivy Westlake, thought to be a demure young lady, comes alive at her friend’s hacienda in Mexico when she discovers the Flamenco. Her wild side is unleashed in the sensuality of music and dancing. She will not allow her father to force her into a marriage of convenience back East, so she runs away with the dance troupe.
Jake Agee, cowboy, horse trader, loner, has carefully built a life with no commitments. That life explodes in his face when Ivy dances. He doesn’t know she’s run away until he spots her performing in a small California town. He battles his desire to have this woman against his well-honed sense of independence.
Jake and Ivy perform their own style of pas de deux throughout southern California until their passions ignite in a desert cave in the middle of a thunder storm. Jake fights his growing love as Ivy fights her craving for their erotic pursuits. Jake’s long lost brother suddenly and mysteriously surfaces.
Will this appearance tear Jake and Ivy apart? Will it destroy their love?
The drawers dropped.
He groaned. Her dancer's body, one long graceful line from head to toe, reminded him of a painting he'd seen in San Francisco. He'd been wandering along Market Street near the Palace Hotel and caught a glimpse of a beautiful naked woman through a window. When he went to investigate, to his embarrassment he discovered he'd entered an art gallery. A painting—a woman rising from a pond surrounded by thick woods. Now he stared stupidly at the very image of the woman in the painting, at the real life woman's pale translucent flawless skin. He had the living breathing Ivy here before him, not unobtainably flat on a canvas.
His palms itched to cover her full white breasts. His body flamed hot wanting the feel of her dark rosy nipples rubbing against his bare chest. And in his mouth. His clenched jaw ached. He growled deeply in his throat at the insistent throbbing of his cock, at the thickening inside his pants. Ravenous to touch her, her breasts, her belly, the dark triangle below it, he swallowed, suddenly nervous.
He lifted a hand to her hair, slipping his fingers through it, fluffing the damp strands out to spill down her back and over her shoulders to teasingly cover her breasts. The woman in the painting, her hair was like this. He'd stood so long in front of the painting that the gallery proprietor had to cough to get his attention.
At the time he believed he'd never see a woman's hair like that in the painting. But he was wrong. It was here, within his reach, rich and thick and wildly curling around her breasts, her nipples peeping through. Fingering the length of the waves drifting over her neck and shoulders, his hands shaking slightly, he reached the round cushions of her breasts. His breath caught in his throat as he brushed the backs of his knuckles down the center of her body.
His eyes widened to take it all in, his mouth watering to taste her. His lips softened, his breath rasped. He heard her sharp indrawn gasp and a moan echoed so deeply inside her he could feel its vibration on his fingers. Glancing up, he saw she was watching with fascination as his fingers skimmed around her breasts finally reaching their tips.
She looked up at him then, her lips parted in anticipation, her eyes swimming with desire. "Mm," she sighed shakily, pursing her lips, her body quivering, her eyes glazed and dreamy as he drew the backs of his fingers over her.
His only reality was his hands on her body, on her hot skin. Curving his palms around her, he caressed her breasts, her neck and shoulders. He'd never made love like this, had no plan of seduction. Yes, he'd had sex before but never with the feeling that this time would be momentous. He wanted it to be good for her. If he was going to take her innocence, he didn't want her to regret it.
He leaned in, their lips meeting, soft at first, just a gentle brush.
"God, Jake." She groaned into his mouth.
Their lips parted momentarily, then his kiss turned savage, his tongue plunging into her slippery mouth and intertwining with hers, filling her until he felt breathless and weak. Her fingers clutched the back of his shirt, nails digging into the skin beneath. The sharp sting kindled a spark in him. His hands raked through her damp hair, cupping her head in his palms, holding her as he moved over her lips, taking control of her mouth.
He caressed her shoulders and neck with his thumbs, nibbling at her brow and eyelids, nuzzling her ear and, with repressed ferocity, he bit her earlobe.
"Jake," she murmured repeatedly. She pulled frantically at the front of his shirt, clumsily unbuttoning it. "I want to feel your bare skin," she demanded, her voice lying low and husky. As the shirt fell open, her hands grazed across his chest followed by the hot softness of her breasts. Crying out at the contact, she kissed his shoulder. Her lips moved down, following her fingers as they skimmed over the light hair covering his chest, following the trail directly to his belly button.
He stopped her hand from going lower. Stupid son of a bitch.
Jake and Ivy available at Amazon - http://amzn.com/B00OEFC9LK
Stay tuned for Wooing the Librarian, Pres MacKay's story out on October 20, 2014
and The Long Road to You, Nick's story — Coming Soon
Sensual fantasies were locked in my mind for years until a friend said, "Why don't you write them down?" Why not, indeed? One spiral notebook, a pen and the unleashing of my imagination later, and here I am with more than a dozen books published.
The craft of writing erotic romance has become my passion and my niche in life. I love every part of the creative process — developing characters, designing the plot, even drawing the layout of physical spaces from my stories. My careers have been varied — third grade school teacher, bookkeeper, secretary — none of which gave me a bit of inspiration.
But now I'm lucky enough to write romance full time — the best job in the universe!
Lost and Found
His Hers & His
Soldier, Come Home
A Promise at Dawn
Jake and Ivy
Wooing the Librarian
Home to Stay (coming soon)
The Long Road to You (coming soon)
I'll Be Your Last
Jane Leopold Quinn
My Romance: Love With a Scorching Sensuality
http://janeleopoldquinn.BlogSpot.com + https://twitter.com/jelquinnauthor
Amazon Author Page
Monday, October 27, 2014
Can Dom Logan Hawk Help Melodie Heal The Emotional Wounds From Her Attack? Melodie's Song, A Brand New Erotic, M/F, Contemporary, BDSM Romance from Skye Michaels. Plus Author Spotlight.
Can Logan overcome Melodie’s need to hide her scar as well as the malevolent intentions of the stalker and compose a happy ever after?
Two years ago gallery owner, Melodie Buxton, was attacked and stabbed outside her art gallery in the Tribeca section of lower Manhattan. When she awoke in the hospital with a knife wound on her face, she vaguely remembered the dark presence that held her barely conscious body and attempted to stop the bleeding. After she left the hospital she was unable to find out his name.
Dom Logan Hawk, lead singer and guitar in Dark Place, a rock band popular with the alternative lifestyle communities, had seen the attack. He had stopped to help the beautiful young woman he’d noticed in the neighborhood but had not yet gotten up the nerve to approach. As he put pressure on her wound and felt her pulse under his hands and her blood flow through his fingers, he knew that their souls had bonded.
Two years after the attack, the angry red swirls running through the beautiful, tranquil pastel abstract painting in the window of Melodie’s gallery drew Logan. The small signature at the bottom of the painting told him Melodie was the artist. He wanted to walk into the gallery and talk to her but he hesitated. He’d had glimpses of her through the gallery window since the attack and knew that she covered the side of her face where the scar would be. One day on the urging of his band members he walked into the gallery to talk to her. When she learned that he was her guardian angel she agreed to have lunch with him, and a relationship developed.
The cloud on the horizon came in the form of Logan’s dangerous female fan and stalker, Karin Sanders. Karin realized that Logan and Melodie’s romance endangered her delusions of a relationship with Logan, and she is determined to get rid of her rival in any way she can. When Karin attacked Melodie on the street outside Rockefeller Plaza at the Christmas tree lighting ceremony, Logan and Melodie retreat to the new BDSM hotel in Florida owned by his friend, Jack Dalton Brown.
The Paint Splatters Gallery,
Tribeca Section of New York, New York,
Wednesday morning, July 1, 2015
Melodie watched from behind the display panel near the front door. That guy was standing in front of the gallery window again. He stopped at the same time every morning to just look in the window and stare at the large abstract painting she had displayed there. It was her own work, and not for sale. The painting had helped her work through some of the anger she still felt every time she glanced in a mirror. She never really looked. The rest of her pain she kept as private as possible. The guy she had been seeing at the time of the knife attack had bailed when he saw the angry red scar on her face. He wasn’t up to the challenge, it seemed.
By putting the painting in the window of the gallery, she was displaying the only face she was willing to show the public. Someday it would end up on the wall over her mantel, but right now, it was where in needed to be.
The puckered scar that ran from her right temple down to her jawline was better than it had been when she first came out of the hospital. Then, it had been horrible. Consequently, she looked in mirrors only when absolutely necessary. Two subsequent surgeries and time had made it smaller and lighter in color, and makeup helped as well. But she was still self-conscious and wore her hair longer on the right side in an asymmetrical cut that screened the scar from most eyes. Dr. Goldman said he wasn’t done with her yet, and was far from ready to give up.
The man standing on the sidewalk was tall and well-built. She hadn’t ever really seen what he looked like, because he usually had a hoodie pulled up like he didn’t want to be recognized. She had just gotten a suggestion of long, dark hair and high cheekbones. He usually dressed in black jeans with a lot of leather, but the clothes looked like they might be designer and expensive. Today he was wearing a black T-shirt and black jeans, but he somehow looked prosperous and well tended to her.
What did he find so compelling about the painting? She felt it was her best work, but that might be because it had been so therapeutic for her. The pastel colors blended with the eddies of blood-red pigment depicting the anger that still swirled through her mind.
The police had never gotten the man who had cut her. Her handbag and wallet had been found in a garbage can in an alley several blocks away, minus her cash and credit cards. Even though he was still out there, she refused to live her life in fear. He had probably left the area months or years ago. The city’s homeless were migratory and moved from place to place, shelter to shelter. She forced herself to walk to work every day, although she tried to be home before dark. If she had to stay late to meet a client, she called a cab to take her the few blocks to her brownstone. She had made Jasper Winter the manager of the gallery after the attack, and he had done a great job—even implementing some of his own merchandising ideas while she had been in the hospital or laid up at home. She had another remediation surgery to look forward to this winter.
Ah, he was moving on. She wished she had the nerve to just walk outside and ask him what he thought of the painting. Before the incident, she probably would have done just that, but now she was hesitant when meeting new people. She hated the shocked look when they first saw the scar.
* * * *
Logan Hawk stood outside the gallery, staring at the astounding painting that was bathed in a cone of light. The small signature on the bottom right hand corner of the canvas read “M. Buxton.” He knew that was the name of the woman who had been stabbed on the sidewalk just up the street almost two years ago. He could hardly forget that name. It was etched in his mind. He had been walking toward her when he had seen the stabbing and called 9-1-1. Then he had stayed with her until the ambulance had taken her away.
Melodie Buxton was beautiful. She was tall, but not too slender, with glossy, dark hair and haunting deep blue eyes. The way she moved gave the impression that she might have been a dancer at one time. He had noticed her over two years ago on his morning walk for coffee and the newspaper. The gallery was on his daily route from the loft that contained his apartment and the rehearsal space where the band practiced, and where he did his composing.
That day, her blood had been all over his hands and clothes. It had oozed between his fingers. He would never forget the feeling of desperation he’d felt as he knelt beside her on the pavement. He had tried to stop the bleeding by putting pressure on the wound he’d covered with some napkins from the coffee he had been carrying. They were all he’d had to use. He had never felt the same about Starbucks again.
Blood and cappuccino—not a good combination. Now once in a while, he caught a glimpse of her in the gallery. She never came near the window when he was standing there. One of these days, he was just going to open the door, walk in and ask her how she was doing.
After the incident, he’d called the hospital for her condition. He had not been able to get much information, so he’d just gone in and made his way to the intensive care unit. He’d bribed an orderly and had found out that she was in a medically induced coma. After that, he had not wanted to intrude on her family. Months later, when he began seeing her at the gallery occasionally, he noticed that she stayed away from the windows.
He had seen her on the street a couple of times, but she kept her head down and turned away from passersby as much as she could. It was clear she was not ready to interact with people—particularly strangers. He figured she had to be scarred. The knife wound had been horrific.
He took her hand and led her to the steps going up to the raised sleeping area. When they had ascended to the platform he finished unbuttoning her shirt. She reached out and undid the buttons of his black denim shirt. And then they were all rushing fingers and panting breath.
“I can’t wait to feel you inside me, Logan. Hurry.”
He made quick work of the rest of her clothes and then his. Finally, they were naked. They just looked at each other. When he continued to stare and said nothing, she said hesitantly, “Are you disappointed?”
“Are you crazy? There is nothing to be disappointed about. If you keep that up, you might be getting a taste of that spanking you’ve been worrying about.” He grinned and shook his head.
“You think I didn’t know that you were worrying? Your future Dom knows all.” He backed up to the edge of the bed and fell back, taking her with him. She landed solidly on his chest, and he put his arms around her.
He moved fast. Before she could protest, Logan had rolled her under him and had his muscled thigh firmly planted between her now-open ones. She looked up at him in surprise.
“Relax, baby. We have all night. I’m going to play with you for hours. By the time I let you come, you’ll be begging.” He proceeded to explore every inch of her sensitized skin with his lips. He was going to try to take his time. He flicked his tongue over her raspberry nipples. He knew it was his imagination, but he could swear they tasted sweet. And then he got serious.
He felt the wetness of her pussy and slid his body down until he was between her soft, spread thighs. He had dreamt of this many times. Over the last two years, she had never been far from his thoughts. He took her little pleasure button between his lips and started to suck and nip.
Melodie began to toss and turn, but his shoulders kept her spread wide for him, and his arms controlled her thrashing legs. “Easy, honey. Just lay back and enjoy. You can’t come until I give you permission.”
She raised her head and looked down her body into his eyes. He could see the surprise in hers. “Really? How can I control that?”
“Try. I’m just giving you a little preview of the D/s dynamic. Don’t worry about it. We’re just playing.” He went back to work between her legs. He felt the quickening of her pulse as he continued to circle her clit with his tongue. He ran his tongue through the ruffled pussy lips that were slick with her juices. They tasted sweet to him as well. She tasted like heaven. He knew she would be begging soon. Now that would be music to his ears. She continued to thrash as she tried to gain closer contact with his mouth. “When I take you under sub training, you’ll learn that that is topping from the bottom and is not allowed.”
“Please, Logan. I need you inside me. I’m burning up.”
“Soon, baby. Soon. You are going to have to learn patience. You have to wait until I decide the time is right. I’m the one in control here.”
“I don’t know if I can do that, Logan. Please fuck me.”
That was it. He couldn’t hold back any longer himself. He was dying to sink into her sweet, wet heat. He moved back up her body, took her wrists in one hand, and held them over her head while he braced on his forearm. His rampant cock was primed and ready and homed in on the destination. He nudged her slick opening. He took his shaft in his hand and guided it home. Soon he was seated up to his balls. Her hot, wet pussy grasped his hard cock, and he could feel her interior muscles gripping him.
Oh, God. It was amazing. He knew he would never have enough. He had fantasized about taking her hard and fast many times, but now he found he wanted to make this last to the absolute last possible second. He felt his balls tighten as he began to stroke long and slow. He had to concentrate. Melodie met every stroke. Their bodies instinctively knew each other’s rhythms, and they were in perfect sync.
“Harder, Logan. Faster.”
He knew he should keep her wanting just on general principles, but she wasn’t a trained sub and couldn’t know she was breaking the rules. He began to speed up his strokes. Her legs were wrapped around his back, and she struggled to take him even deeper, if that was possible.
* * * *
Melodie was coming apart. She had never experienced anything like this before. She was desperate to run her hands down his back and grab his ass, but he still had them clasped above her head. For some reason, she found that incredibly erotic and exciting. She wanted to take him as deep and hard as possible. He was big and her pussy was stretched to the maximum, but she loved the fullness, the friction. She just wanted more. She wanted it all.
Logan was all hard, demanding man, and he played her body like one of his instruments. Even as a girl, she had never been one to have crushes on musicians. She had enjoyed the music, but that was all. She could see that was about to change. Was she going to be a thirty-five year old groupie? She started to giggle. When that got a lowered-brow look from Logan, she burst out in a delighted laugh.
“What’s so funny?” he gasped as he intensified his strokes.
“Nothing is funny. I’m just so happy. I think I’m going to be a groupie.”
“God forbid.” She felt her pulse quicken and the ripple of her inner walls around his cock. And then he started to laugh as well.
They both blasted over the edge into spine-tingling orgasms that left them breathless to the lingering sound of their laughter.
SKYE MICHAELS AUTHOR’S BIO:
After losing my job as a commercial real estate paralegal during the financial downturn in the real estate market in 2010, I was working some temp jobs in Miami which is a long commute. My daughter bought me a Kindle for my birthday to ease the long commute from Fort Lauderdale to downtown Miami.
Yikes! I had no idea what was out there not being a techie by nature. I read a ton of the erotic books and loved them. After writing legal documents for years I knew I could write an erotic romance. I read some more of them to find out what they said, what words were used, and how far they went. Pretty darn far! These books weren’t your mama’s romance novels!
Since there are no classes in how to write erotic romance, it was a learn-as-you-go adventure. I have now written twenty-two books. I can’t believe it myself. When I look at them, I wonder where all the words came from and I am amazed. I have now surpassed ONE MILLION WORDS. Yes – I’m a little weird and I keep track of that!
I started my first series, The LeClub series, with Calleigh’s Collar set in the glamorous horse world of Ocala, Florida. I finished the first draft in 17 days. Granted it was only 22,000 words. It and a second manuscript, Kelly’s Challenge, were accepted by Siren Publishing within three weeks. I was astounded, excited, terrified. Since then I have learned a lot from the editors at Siren Publishing. When I started, I had no idea what Point of View and Head Hopping were. That first edited manuscript was a shock.
I have since started other series: The Golden Dolphin set aboard a 300 foot mega yacht (currently 6 books with at least one more to come); The Black Iris Club set in my hometown of Fort Lauderdale that tells the stories of four girlfriends who are either cops or attorneys; The Black Dahlia Hotel set in a secret BDSM hotel on Fort Lauderdale Beach; and the new M/M series, The Wilton Park Grand Hotel with a background of a gay hotel located in Wilton Park, a predominantly gay town in Florida. I enjoy writing (and reading) book series because you get to revisit some of your favorite characters and see how they are doing.
I love the BDSM genre, and have had some interesting conversations with people about it. I recently attended a writer’s conference given to educate writers about the lifestyle. I met some really terrific people there who live the lifestyle and learned a lot.
My heroines are all hard working professional women (and now two gay men) with lives of their own. Although I am writing about Dominant/submissive situations, none of my girls or guys are downtrodden or lack spunk. My heroes are all rich and handsome since this is Romance with a capital “R”.
If we all wanted real life, we only have to look around us not to romance books. My Black Dahlia Hotel Series, is a spinoff of The Black Iris Club, which will continue the Fort Lauderdale story with new and interesting couples. Book 1, Mikaela’s Debut , and Book 2, Vaughn’s Awakening have been released. Book 3, Melodie’s Song, is coming out on October 27, and Penelope’s Gift is coming out on November 14.
My latest series, The Wilton Park Grand Hotel, is a new direction for me and will be a Male/Male series. The first Book, Alex’s Sacrifice, will be released in December. I am currently working on Book 2, Rickie’s Dilemma.
It’s an adventure, that’s for sure. Whenever I finish a book, I scramble for the next one. Once an idea is firmly in my head, I can relax again and just let it happen. I want my readers to feel like they have been to fabulous places and enjoyed a hot love affair with a fabulous hero, and always a Happy Ever After. I hope I can provide my readers with a little respite from everyday life as well as some fun and hot romance.
Please visit my fan page on Facebook, Skye Michaels Books. All of my covers, first chapters and buy links are there. You can just search Skye Michaels on Bookstrand.com, Amazon.com, or Barnes and Noble.com and my books will pop up.
The following are my Bookstrand.com and Amazon.com links for the first books of each of my series:
THE LE CLUB SERIES: (M/F BDSM Contemporary Erotic Romance)
THE GOLDEN DOLPHIN SERIES: (M/F BDSM Contemporary Erotic Romance)
THE BLACK IRIS CLUB: (M/F BDSM Contemporary Erotic Suspense)
THE BLACK DAHLIA HOTEL: (M/F BDSM Contemporary Erotic Suspense)
THE WILTON PARK GRAND HOTEL: (M/M Contemporary Erotic Suspense)
Friday, October 24, 2014
Available November 2014
Callie isn’t sure just how kinky anyone can get on a Tuesday before Christmas, but she’s willing to find out. That is, assuming this first drink at a pool hall with her ex, Gabe, and his girl, Kate, doesn’t send anyone screaming from the bar. Newly divorced after years of sleep-walking through occasional sex, she’s hoping to find her way back to the fiery confidence of her youth, when she saw what, or who, she wanted and grabbed it with both hands. It’s a Callie she barely remembers and that Gabe is convinced is buried somewhere deep inside her still. But when bystanders speculate about the trio, and Gabe and Kate make surprising demands that she be an active participant in this threesome, and not simply their plaything, Callie discovers that letting herself be sexually confident again is harder than she imagined. She’ll need to bare both her body and her heart to find out if she can still reach fearlessly for adventure.
Amy Jo Cousins writes contemporary romance and erotica about smart people finding their own best kind of smexy. She lives in Chicago with her son, where she tweets too much, sometimes runs really far, and waits for the Cubs to win the World Series. Please say hi at amyjocousins.com!
Thursday, October 23, 2014
Once upon a time relative recently there was a really cool scifi show on Fox. It was cancelled. And now we fans who took the time to fall in love with it were left with the question WWWWWHHHHHYYYYYYYY????!!!!
With no immediate answer on the horizon, all we can do is bask in our memories of near slash moments.
One of these moments took place during an episode entitled 'Skin'. In the midst of one of their many interesting exchanges, Dorian, the android partner of the human cop John Kinnex, makes a rather extraordinary observation to his police partner and friend--
Dorian: I ran a bio scan, and it looked like your testicles at full capacity.
Detective John Kennex: You're scanning my balls?
Dorian: I didn't enjoy it, I just...
Detective John Kennex: Oh, my God, this is unbelievable.
Dorian: I can't help but notice you're backed up.
Detective John Kennex: What is the matter with you? Don't scan my testicles ever again.
Dorian: Copy that.
It was so funny! And while watching this, I was also corresponding with my Facebook Family at the same time. My Facebook friends, who are mostly females, were watching at the same time loved the scene. In face one announced gleefully following the above exchange that the Slash [fic] practically wrote itself!
Yes Karl Urban's and Michael Ealy's on chemistry was electric and we female fans were drooling over the possibilities that awaited us. However Fox just like the tv show's ex-showrunner, Naren Shankar, thought it was best to abandon ship leaving us fans at the metaphorical dock wondering what happened.
Still there is some consolation that the show is available on DVD, Blu-ray, Netflix and Amazon, etc. I suggest you give it a try.
Perhaps if we all get together and make a big enough noise, perhaps HBO, Starz or Showtime might pick it up and give it the love it truly desires offering us many more years of potential Slash Fic Plot Bunnies for Dorian and John Kennex.
For more information on Almost Human- click here
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
A Passionate Holiday Encounter Leads To A 'Self's Blossom'. A Contemporary Erotic M/F Romance by David Russell
A romantic, erotic tale of a vivid portrayal of the quest for the inner truth, empowerment and sexual liberation of Selene, a woman searching for primeval abandon and reckless adventure. Intelligent, a university graduate and a successful careerist, Selene became emotionally scarred by unhappy relationships. Riled and taunted through the years by her former college roommate Janice, Selene gave in to the long-term desire to 'get one
back' at Janice by having a passionate holiday encounter.
Immediately drawn to the sea and enthralled by its brutal yet sensual waves, Selene seduces a young boy on a deserted beach. Once she comes to meets the mature and powerful Hudson, Selene finally begins to claim her sensual destiny. Through a slow process, accentuated by Selene‟s shyness, introspection and circumspection, she embarks on a long and elaborate interplay of leading on and rejection. The volcanic passion builds until there is a blazing row. A possible drowning, the final ritual undressing at long last, leads to the ultimate flowering of the woman Selene was meant to be.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Gidget Keegan Seeks The Help of Dr.Cortland Lord For A Little Stress Alleviation. Will Love Take Hold or Have Detrimental Consequences in Exposed Practices by Arneda Everett.
Advised by her doctor a frazzled Gidget Keegan seeks help from the attractive Dr. Cortland Lord. Will her secret erotic sessions have detrimental consequences?
[Exposed Practices is a Sensual M/F Contemporary Romance by Arneda Everett]
Gidget Keegan is a frazzled mess. As the CEO and owner of the rapidly growing PR/ marketing company Splendour, being stressed can spell disaster. Unfortunately for Gidget the last three months have been a living nightmare. So much so, that Gidget’s doctor mandates Gidget to seek professional help for her out of control stress from a therapist.
After great protest Gidget is persuaded to accept professional help by the charming Dr. Cortland Lord. To Gidget’s ultimate delight her interactions with the gorgeous Cortland Lord are rapidly extended far behind the usual patient/ doctor relationship.
Cortland uses his physically gratifying sessions with Gidget to teach her how to manage her stress by infusing her life with equal doses of eroticism and tranquility. But in a business where appearances are everything will Gidget’s secret relationship with the sexy doctor cause her to have unforeseen detrimental consequences.
Gidget held her breath for a moment. He wanted to meet. Oh god, what does he look like sounding like that? His voice already caused her sex to tingle and become moist. Gidget was starting to lose her mind. She could only imagine how sexy he looked. Her mind filled with images of a tall mysterious creature.
“I was referred by your friend Adrian Clint. She said that you might have time to help me with things. Do you have an appointment available? I know you are quite the busy lady.” As Cortland had continued to talk, Gidget heard a trace of an accent.
Where was it from? Oh my, she thought to herself, please not from Great Britain.
Gidget knew that she had a weakness for the British accent. This only fueled her fantasies more.
Gidget, trying to remain calm, took a deep breath and answered him. “Yes, I do have time. You’re in luck. In fact an opening just came up. I’m free.” She paused for a moment, fighting back her nerves, then continued. “In about, mmm, let’s say an hour. Will that work for you, Mr. Lord?”
What if he said no? Please, Keegan, she scolded herself internally. It’s not like you asked him to be yours for the rest of your life.
Gidget sat back, stunned at her last thought. Why did her brain go there? She hadn’t even seen this guy.
But to Gidget’s relief, Cortland began to talk again. “Yes, that will work. But I need to ask you a favor. I was wondering.” He hesitated for a moment. “If you could come to my business address?”
“Sure, I could do that. Where are you located?” Gidget picked up a pen and waited for the address. Cortland, with a smile to his voice, confirmed with Gidget that he’d reached her on her cell phone. Once she confirmed that he indeed had, he said he would shoot it right over.
“I’m in San Diego so it might take you a little longer than an hour to get here. I look forward to our meeting, Ms. Keegan.”
“Likewise, Mr. Lord.”
“Until then, Ms. Keegan.” And with that the rich sultry voice was gone. Here iPhone buzzed and alerted her the address had arrived. She smiled, happy it had made it to her. She texted him back to let him know she had indeed received the address and she would see him soon. He sent a nice message back about looking forward to their meeting again.
Gidget put her iPhone down on her desk. She sighed. She sat there for a moment and let what just happen settle in. Yes, she had done this plenty of times before. She might be a little rusty but it was easy, something that came naturally to her.
Gidget stopped her train of thought. What was she thinking about? Her conversation in her head was ambiguous even to her. She had been thinking about how it had been a while since she had taken a meeting with a new client who was LA based, with the exception of Adrian. But she knew her thoughts had shifted to something entirely different. His silky voice had turned her on. It had been a long time since someone had stirred a reaction in her like Mr. Cortland Lord had.
In fact, she had never felt a feeling like the one that burned deep inside her sexual seas.
Gidget tried to repress the feeling but remembering his voice was making it hard to think straight. She wondered how the hell his voice could fuck her up in such a manner. She knew she had to release her pent-up sexual fire if she ever hoped to restore some kind of balance to her whirling mind.
Quickly Gidget locked her door to her office and shut the windows. She tapped a hidden panel on the wall behind her desk that was shrouded by the wood trim of the walls. She punched in the five-digit code into the black-faced keypad to unlock her hidden private back office which served as her home away from home.
Gidget heard the all-familiar sound of compressed air being released as the large crystal glass door, which had an etched frosty white phoenix rising from the ashes and flame embedded in it, slid open to reveal the concealed sanctuary. At a glance, the door could be mistaken for a piece of modern art in her office. But once on the inside of the private space, Gidget had a view into her office because the crystal door was made of two-way glass.
She quickly crossed the tan-colored carpet and came to rest on her California King bed. She sat there atop her plush, velvet, aqua duvet for a moment, thinking about his voice. But something about this was off. She then spotted her cozy settee.
“Oh, this is just right,” Gidget said as she settled into the settee. She had found her spot where she could set herself free. And she did.
* * * *
“Oh my god.” Escaped Gidget’s lips as she finished her self-satisfying moment. She stared at the ceiling as she caught her breath.
Her mind wandered back to what was ahead for her. Her naked body trembled with anticipation as she thought of Cortland’s sexy voice once more.
“Mr. Lord, my fantasy of you didn’t disappoint,” Gidget spoke out loud to herself. “But will you?” Gidget knew this question would be answered soon.
About the author:
Arneda Everett’s love for writing began at a young age. The passion for writing was ignited when Ms. Everett was asked to pen her first story in the sixth grade. The love continued throughout her college years.
It was during these years Ms. Everett had the privilege to work with both a published author and a professional editor. Ms. Everett attributes her refinement of her craft to this time in her life.
After college Ms. Everett worked in customer service for several years. Although she found success in that industry, her first love of writing never was far from her heart. One day feeling the call, she sat down and began to write again. Ms. Everett is thrilled to have returned to her first and true love. Arneda Everett currently resides near the beautiful beach city of Santa Cruz, California.
My other book in the Love Unexpected Series: Lost… Found
Sunday, October 19, 2014
A Hot and Seductive, Historical, Fantasy M/F Erotic Romance by Morgan Henry; The Baroness of Clawynd. Book One in The Kingdom of Kerban Series
[Siren Classic: Erotic Historical Fantasy Romance, HEA]
With the death of her father, Baroness Aenid has come to her title sooner than she expected. Already a talented Healer using magic, she is now a woman governing a holding. This is rare in Kerban and she is determined to show the kingdom she can oversee Clawynd and fulfill her duties without any assistance.
Lord Merrin, King’s Champion, is entranced by the strong and intelligent Aenid and desires to love and protect her. But a traitorous duke interrupts his plans to court her properly and he leaves to serve his King. When the would-be lovers are reunited in the fight to protect Kerban, Aenid resists Merrin’s attempts to keep her safe. She thinks his actions undermine her and that he doesn’t respect her abilities.
In the midst of treachery and invasion, will it be too late for Aenid to understand Merrin’s love and ability to protect her doesn’t detract from her role as Baroness?
Lady Aenid enjoyed the fragrance of the healthy plants in her large medicinal garden. A light breeze dissipated the late summer heat and ruffled the hairs that had slipped out of her braid. She clipped several buds from the stratha plant and added them to her basket. The little buds were essential in the restoring tea for women who had undergone a difficult birth. She moved on to the next section and began pulling the few weeds that had sprung up. Though the head gardener of the demesne—the land directly supporting the manor house—oversaw her medicinal garden personally, Aenid loved finding time to tend the garden herself. Aenid found a great deal of peace in working in the soil and watching the plants mature.
The estate was the home of her father, the baron of Clawynd. His lands extended for miles around, bordered by the foothills of the East Dyfal Mountains and three other noble seats. It was a small holding in the kingdom of Kerban, but it was relatively wealthy due to the mines and rich farmland. Her father managed it well. He was fair and just with his people and they prospered because of it. They were also very loyal to him.
The house itself, Duth Clawynd, was a huge manor house. She knew it was not nearly as impressive as the castles that were the homes of other nobles, but she loved its less military appearance. It had hundreds of rooms and was home and work for dozens of servants. It was an imposing structure when viewed from the front. Rising several stories, it had a central hall with a wing off each side, and square turrets rose at each corner. The gravel laneway led from the road to the shallow valley of the estate and circled a statue of the goddess with a garden.
Aenid thought it was a little extravagant for a family of two, but it was their ancestral home. In the past the families of Clawynd had been larger. Baron Jero de Barden, her father, had not been blessed with many children. Aenid’s mother had died birthing her second child, who had passed on within days of his mother. Aenid was only seven at the time, and had not come into her powers as a healer. Her father had loved her mother dearly and despite the pressure to remarry, had not done so. He lavished his love upon his daughter and raised her to know her duty to the people of their land and ensured she had the training and skills to be an excellent Baroness.
In the kingdom of Kerban both men and women could inherit noble seats. Generally it was the firstborn male that took the title but if there was no boy child, the firstborn daughter inherited. So, Aenid would be Baroness and her husband, if she chose to marry, would be Baron. The rule of the seat would be hers, however.
Though Aenid would be Baroness by right of lineage, her father always impressed upon her the need for excellence. He told her that though women could inherit, it happened infrequently enough that she would be constantly challenged. She would have to be a better Baroness than any other noble in the kingdom. The estate must be well managed, her people loyal and well cared for, the border with Torquin guarded and her soldiers well trained, her holding justly administered, never late with her taxes, and she must keep abreast of all the king’s council details and scheming of the rest of the nobles. It was a daunting task for any noble in the kingdom.
She already oversaw the management of the home and demesne. Her father ensured she was included in or informed of all decisions regarding the running of the seat. This involved the supervision of lands and tenants, taxes, administration of justice, and the health and welfare of their people. She knew much about the king’s council, but rarely went to court. Her father’s retirement from active court life limited the amount of time she spent in Kerfaen.
She heard the sound of hooves on the gravel of the lane to the manor. She stood and walked over to see who was approaching. She wondered if it was the hunting party. Lord Merrin, the King’s Champion and a friend of her father’s from his days at court, had brought several young knights for a visit.
Aenid could admit to herself that she found Lord Merrin very attractive and she was drawn to him in ways she had never before experienced. He had a scar that cut across his face from his temple, over his left eye and down his cheek a little ways.
For some reason, Aenid thought the scar only make him more striking. With the healing powers available in Kerban, scars like his were rare. He had mid-length black hair that was brushed back from a strong forehead. His eyes were a clear blue, and he had a strong chin that he appeared to keep free of stubble. His mouth was generous, with the slight lines at the side that come with laughter. He was a large man. He towered over her and had the muscles to fill out his frame. His shoulders were wide and upper body strong from fighting, and his legs were powerful from all his riding. For all his strength, Aenid felt that he could be very gentle when the occasion called for it.
By all accounts, Merrin was intelligent, well educated, and honorable. He was also a reasonably strong mage, able to cast mid-level spells. He had strong mental shields, a basic necessity of anyone who was able to wield kerfios beyond a basic level. Her father liked him. She suspected that the knights he brought with him were supposed to be eligible suitors for her—young, handsome, and of lower rank than her. None of them compared to Merrin in her eyes.
The approaching group did appear to be the hunting party that had set off early in the morning. It was odd they were travelling so slowly. And they seemed quiet. Even if the hunt had been less than successful, there would normally be some banter between the men.
Aenid stepped toward the lane, intending to greet her father. One of the men in the group caught sight of her and urged his mount faster. The horse jogged toward her. As it approached, she could see that it was Lord Merrin.
It had been the most exquisite torture to hold Aenid in his arms and not bring them both to ecstasy. Even now, part of him wanted to rip off her nightgown and love her hard and fast, but he knew that was not the way to show her how much he cared.
He caressed his way up from her belly to her shoulders, just grazing the swell her breast lightly. Easing first one lace strap off her shoulder, then the other, he started to pull the silky nightgown down off her body. Aenid, so sweet and willing, helped him by rising off the bed to allow the material to slip away. Her body revealed to him, she blushed a little and moved to cover herself with her hands.
“No, sweetness. You’re beautiful and I want to enjoy the sight.” Merrin took one of her hands and kissed her fingertips. She allowed the other to fall back to the bed.
Merrin did enjoy the sight. His cock became a little harder, if that was even possible. She had lovely breasts, neither too small nor too large for his tastes. They were the precise size to fill his hands. She had pale skin, which set off her brownish pink nipples to perfection. Those lovely buds were standing at attention with her arousal. Her soft belly gave way to lushly rounded hips, ideal for him to hold while taking her in a myriad of positions.
She trimmed the neat thatch of hair over her mound and he could just barely see the lips of her sex between her thighs.
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “If at any time you are uncomfortable, or wish me to stop, all you have to do is say so,” he murmured into her ear. “I’m going take pleasure in touching and caressing every inch of you, my sweet.” He started kissing his way down her neck and over her collarbone as she let out a breathy sigh.
She smelled clean and fresh, like rosemary and flowers. Merrin leaned over her and inhaled her lovely fragrance and licked his way to her breasts. He fondled and caressed them, turning the nipples a darker pink and hardening them further. He took one into his mouth and laved it generously with his tongue. Aenid gasped and thrust her chest upward, involuntarily. He smiled around the nipple, enjoying her response. He treated the other to similar attentions and enjoyed her moans of pleasure. He looked forward to the day where he could oil the furrow between her breasts and thrust his cock between them. His cock twitched at the thought.
He trailed kissed down over her belly, travelling down one leg to the knee then up the other. He stopped at her mound and he felt her tense up slightly. He kissed her curls lightly and looked up at his lovely Baroness.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked gently, looking into her green eyes.
Aenid swallowed and whispered, “No.”
He caressed her inner thigh with one hand and opened her to his gaze. “So pretty,” he murmured as her inner lips were revealed to him. She was already glistening with arousal and her clitoris was swelling. He bent his head and gave her a long lick from the bottom of her slit to the top, reveling in the fact that he was the first to taste her.
She gasped with the contact and jerked her hips. He placed a hand firmly on her pelvis to hold her still while he continued to enjoy her pussy. He carried on licking and sucking on her lips, occasionally stimulating her clit while she moaned and fisted the sheets. Merrin could feel her getting close, so he backed off a little, but reached forward to introduce a finger into her vagina. He wet the digit with her juices then eased it slowly into her dripping hole. She was tight around his finger and he didn’t push in too far, not wanting to breach her barrier.
Aenid made soft cries of pleasure as he fucked her shallowly with his finger. He could feel the ripple of her muscles around his digit.
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Morgan was able to realize a long unfulfilled dream when Siren accepted her manuscript for publication. Though she had always loved reading and writing, she made the decision to pursue a career in science when she was still in high school. It was a choice based in a need for stability and financial security.
It wasn’t until much later in life that she returned to her love of writing. Morgan wrote a manuscript, deciding that it was better to try and fail than to always wonder if she could have been a writer. She was amazed and delighted to have her first book published.
She now resides in Ontario, with her loving and supportive husband, cat and Boston terrorizer, oops I mean terrier. When she’s not writing, she still has a full time “day job” that she loves, family to look after, friends to enjoy spending time with, and quilts to make.
Saturday, October 18, 2014
Role Playing and Sensuality. Ecstatic Rendezvous by David Russell; A M/F Contemporary Erotic Romance by David Russell
In An Ecstatic Rendezvous, our nameless male is described as a narcissist from the start with a perfect gym body to match. He is so into himself that he dresses up in 50′s style swimwear and poses in front of a mirror. He even strips his clothing off as he watches himself in the mirror. But eventually he tires of the solo performance and searches for a woman on his level, and meets Sandra.
Our protagonist is serious about role playing. Before meeting up with Sandra, he lets her in on his 50′s era fantasy and even coordinate outfits over the phone, right down to the ironed linen underwear. When they do meet, they role play like it is a real beach party scene from a 50′s movie, complete with a couple’s beauty contest.
Russell was not kidding when he said the protagonist was a narcissist. I found humor in the lengths he makes to play out his fantasy, both alone and with Sandra. Excellently written – this was very much an ecstatic rendezvous, and a short story worth reading!
Her aura, spiced by her exquisite scent, so full and strong, was really driving me wild, my breath heating, my juices simmering. The whole scenario was quite overwhelming. The moment for the grand ceremony had come. I took her by the hand and lifted her to stand facing me. “We’ll have a romantic undress,” I said.
“The prelude for our symphony,” she said.
“As an impassioned Mozartian—and I assume you are, too—I just love well-orchestrated sonatas of love! I’ve been yearning for someone with your finesse, dreaming about it for ages!”
I had chosen non-laced shoes to avoid any possibility of fumbling, my jacket and socks were no trouble, and I placed all the garments aside of the main action area to be. Then, Sandra skilfully thumbed my buttons and peeled off my shirt and vest, feeling the muscles of my torso and my arms as she did so. I stood before her, proud in my tight black bikini briefs.
Her face lit up. “Oh, darling, you’ve got such a wonderful physique, I’m so proud of my catch!”
“I’ll do the same for you, so for the next stage of revelation, let me take your blouse off first.”
It was off-the-shoulder, flimsily, casually and alluringly worn. The motion of my quivering thumbs echoed the firmness. The three pearl buttons undid with ease to make a gracious parting. Then, my hands went under its top, and eased it off to reveal her glorious firm sun-tanned shoulders and her willowy back.
“Okay, part two. Now, I’ll undo your skirt.” I peeled the zip along very slowly with my left, feeling her hips as I did and edged it down, with my hands smoothing her bottom and then squeezing her firm thighs. Sandra gave a knowing smile and a giggle.
“Is that nice?” This was the next delicious stage of revelation, to see the full shape of her legs. I love elastic-topped stockings—so much more alluring without suspenders. I touched their tops and felt her firm flesh beneath them. Her thighs and calves had an absolute sensual iridescence.
“Now, off with them, darling. I want to see your lovely legs as they really are.” The stockings looked so delicate, I didn’t want to risk laddering them. Sandra had to do that with her faultless firm but delicate hands. Supremely at ease with her aura, she lowered them with tender, loving care. Now, with matching caresses, we felt each other’s thighs and calves.
“It’s great that we’ve kept up our fitness routines in anticipation of the big day,” she said. “You don’t drink beer either, do you? I really appreciate that.”
Her silky white briefs gleamed with promise— their own special luminosity—it felt a ballerina’s pirouetting, but frozen motionless.
As the tactile sensations built up, my breath was heavy with suspense, laden with the weight of long-repressed desire, at last so blissfully released.
An Ecstatic Rendezvous eBook: David Russell - Amazon.co.uk