Mean Girls by Lucy Felthouse

Adele Blackthorne is a big girl, a curvy chick. She knows it, and she’s been picked on all her life because of it. But she’s gotten to the stage where she doesn’t care. She may be Rubenesque, but she’s healthy, too. Much healthier than the mean girls at the leisure center that point and stare and say spiteful things about her. Adele rises above it all, and simply enjoys her secretive glances at the center’s hunky lifeguard, Oliver.

As the bullying of Adele becomes worse, Oliver finds it increasingly difficult not to intervene. He doesn’t want to get into trouble with work, but equally he can’t stand to see Adele treated in such a horrible way. Especially since he doesn’t agree that she’s fat and unattractive. He thinks she’s a seriously sexy woman, and would like to get to know her better. Much better.

Buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/mean-girls/

*****

Excerpt:

As usual, Adele Blackthorne felt the weight of gazes on her as she walked from the changing room to the steps to get into the swimming pool. She was used to it by now, and had learned not to react, to just carry on as though she hadn’t noticed people staring and not-so-subtly pointing at her.

With a polite nod to Oliver, the lifeguard, as she passed him, Adele was grateful for his much more favorable reaction. If he thought she resembled a beached whale, he hid it much better than everyone else did. The warmth in his eyes as he nodded back even looked genuine. But she had no illusions, he probably slagged her off the moment he got into the staffroom, or home, talking about the fat woman who went swimming three times a week without fail. But for now, she’d pretend he didn’t. Pretend he thought she was sexy, and wanted to get lost in her abundant curves. God knows she’d like him to.

It was true, she was a big girl and she was most definitely aware of it. Ever since she’d gotten to the age where her excess weight could no longer be called puppy fat, she’d tried to do something about it. Every diet under the sun, ridiculous amounts of exercise… nothing worked. Adele had grown so depressed in her teens that she’d become bulimic. Naturally, she’d lost some weight that way, but she’d also made herself so ill that she’d had to be hospitalized. It had terrified the life out of her, and ever since, she’d resolved that she’d much rather be healthy than skinny.

Which was why she visited her local leisure center three times a week. She used the gym and sauna, and went swimming. And every single time she went, she’d catch someone gawping at her. But because of the years she’d spent—especially at school—being called all the names under the sun, she’d developed an incredibly thick skin. She was happy and healthy—so healthy in fact that she could probably beat all of those skinny bitches at a swimming race. Of course she never offered, never called anyone out on their rudeness and ignorance, but it made her feel better to know that she was fitter and much more polite than them.

Slipping into the fast lane, she settled her goggles carefully into position—she hated getting water in her eyes—then lifted her legs to rest the bottoms of her feet against the end of the pool. Looking at the clock on the wall that counted seconds, she waited until the hand reached the top, then pushed off from the side and launched herself into the lane. It was quiet, so she had this section of the pool to herself. Her arms cut through the water, her legs flapped wildly and she did ten laps without losing any speed. Emerging from the water, she checked the clock again and was pleased to note she’d beaten her previous time.

She was just about to start another ten laps, when she heard voices from the other side of the pool. Voices that clearly forgot how well they carried on water. It was as though they were right next to her.

“God, I’m surprised all the water doesn’t jump out of the pool when she gets in. And the way she swims—she’ll cause a tidal wave one of these days.”

The spiteful words were followed by a trio of sniggers, and Adele gritted her teeth. Part of her wished that she could create a bloody tidal wave, so it would sweep those bitches under water and drown them. The other part of her tsked at the thought. Ideas like that made her just as bad as them, just as unpleasant, just as cowardly.

Because they were cowardly—the way they spoke about her behind her back proved that. If they ever passed her somewhere in the leisure center or its car park, they never said anything, not one word. They’d just scurry away as fast as they could, then titter when they thought she was out of earshot. She hoped that just one time, someone would say something to her face, so she could retaliate, speak up for herself. There was no way she’d start anything—she didn’t want to add confrontational to the list of faults that the mean girls had obviously compiled about her.

Sucking in a deep breath, Adele launched into another ten laps, allowing the chilly water and the exertion of powering through it to burn away her irritation. Because that’s all it was—irritation. She wasn’t angry. Anger was too powerful an emotion, and one that was totally wasted on those ignorant women. She almost felt sorry for them, actually. If they had nothing better to do than to stare at her and slag her off all the time, then they clearly had very dull lives.

The thought cheered her considerably and when she completed her twentieth lap, she lay her forearms on the edge of the pool and hoiked herself up. Her back was pressed against the side, and from here she had a perfect view of the rest of the pool. Tugging her goggles down so they hung around her neck, she had a damn good look at everyone else. The small children and their guardians in the kids’ pool right at the other end of the enormous hall, the old people who swum so slowly as they chatted that she was surprised they stayed afloat, the relentless movement of the man in the medium-speed lane and, of course, the mean girls who were in the same sort of position she was, but at the side of the pool rather than the end. The side which faced the lifeguard station.

Adele narrowed her eyes and watched them—the two waif-like blondes and a brunette—as they chatted and giggled, and it seemed for a change, not about her. They’d clearly changed the subject since their previous spouting of vitriol. Their focus was very firmly on Oliver as he sat on his lofty perch, surveying the pools before him, ready to jump in should anyone get into trouble. She often toyed with the idea of faking a problem, just to get him into the pool and his strong arms around her. However, she knew that although he’d undoubtedly do his duty and help her, he’d never believe such a strong swimmer would need his assistance. Then he’d lose all respect for her, and probably stop hiding his disdain for her so effectively. And the polite nods and smiles she got from him were the only thing—aside from the center’s top-notch facilities—that made the place bearable. She was sure that if the three witches—a nickname she’d secretly come up with for the women—had their way, there would be a sign on the main doors to the building saying ‘No Fat People Allowed.’

*****

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over seventy publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include Best Bondage Erotica 2012, 2013 and 2014 and Best Women’s Erotica 2013. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

BLURB:

Amelia Jennings fights for a new life. All alone, after losing her brothers and father to the consequences of war, she evades an abusive relationship. She fears military men, dominant men, and especially men who like to fight for a living, just like her ex-boyfriend.

As she tries to adapt to her new life, she attempts to avoid her best friend’s brothers, who turn her on in a way she definitely isn’t used to. Mènage relationships are common, but these particular men scare her and remind her of the past she is trying to forget.

The Haas brothers, Murphy, Waylon, Brody, Ricky are tough, set in their ways, and now interested in their sister’s friend. Amelia is the only woman to get under their skin. She fights them tooth and nail, evades their every attempt at seduction, and makes them want things and feel things they never thought they would. They want her in their bed, and their claiming ownership. Standing in the way of happiness is her past, and one man who vows to get her back.

Available from:

Siren Publishing: http://www.bookstrand.com/the-american-soldier-collection-5-the-greatest-fight-of-all

EXCERPT:

Amelia smiled then leaned back and closed her eyes. She started thinking about her new life here. The hospital was ten minutes from the condo and Regan said she spoke to Murphy about finding an apartment to rent near her new job. Of course Regan said she was fine with having Amelia stay with her for however long, but Amelia overheard Galen asking about sleeping over, and Regan denied him. Amelia didn’t want to stand in the way of her friend’s love life.

She crossed her legs and allowed the relaxing atmosphere to ease her mind.

She wasn’t too surprised that she thought of her brothers. Kyle and Edward. She really thought that she could have saved Kyle. But she learned that people have to have some bit of hope of desire to live, or else it was useless. Why couldn’t she have brothers like Regan did? As the thought hit her mind, she realized that she wouldn’t want them as brothers. She couldn’t even pretend to see them in that light or with that label. Seeing them as brothers was the farthest thing from her mind.

“How did you find one of the best spots on the ranch?”

Amelia jumped as she sat forward and looked behind her. The sudden sound of a man’s voice startled her.

“Oh God, Ricky, you scared me.”

She watched as Ricky walked around the bench and stared down at her. He kept one hand on his hip and holster. It was taking some getting used to, seeing so many people carrying firearms wherever they went. Back in New York, weapons were concealed, and usually carried by cops and thugs. Ricky was sporting a black gun, she had no clue what kind, because he looked so sexy.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, darling. You looked so lost in thought,” he said and she tried to look into his eyes, but the black Stetson he wore was low. It made him appear dangerous. She had the silly “butterflies in her stomach” sensation, and she wasn’t certain why.

“It’s so peaceful out here. You all must have loved growing up on the ranch,” she said as she pried her eyes off of the man and forced herself to look toward the two men getting down off the horses. Mad Dog.

She didn’t know who the other guy was. Her eyes zeroed in on Mad Dog and how his presence instantly magnified the atmosphere around them.

“It was the best way to grow up. Living off the land, working on the farm and in the fields. It’s very beautiful,” Ricky said as he held her gaze then lowered himself to the seat next to her.

She adjusted her position as his thick, hard thigh made contact with her bare one. Perhaps wearing pants would have been the better option today.

“Howdy.”

She looked up as Mad Dog and another young cowboy tipped their hats at her.

“Hi,” she replied.

“I’m Jonas. You must be Amelia, Regan’s friend.”

He reached his hand out and she accepted it as he held her gaze. This cowboy was much younger than Mad Dog and Ricky. His green eyes sparkled as he looked her thighs over.

“Nice to meet you, Jonas.”

“So what are you doing out here all alone?” Mad Dog asked and he sounded kind of pissed.

She looked over her shoulder toward the house, way in the distance and her belly tightened from his reprimanding tone.

“Regan just headed inside. I was enjoying the quietness.” Damn her shaky voice. Mad Dog Murphy was such a disciplinary man.

Mad Dog stared down at her. His dark blue eyes sparkled as his eyes roamed over her body. There was no denying it. Mad Dog and Ricky affected her. So she focused on Jonas.

“So, where are you staying? Has Regan given you a tour of town and some of the hot spots?” Jonas asked as he stood next to her. She decided to stand up, feeling the heat of Ricky’s thigh next to hers. As she stood, a light breeze collided against her skin, sending her long, black hair over her shoulders. Her skirt lifted slightly because of the flared bottom edge and she grabbed onto it to keep it in place. In doing so, she nearly lost her balance, her legs so shaky from having Mad Dog staring at her, watching her every move, and Ricky doing the same thing.

“Whoa,” Jonas said as he reached for her and steadied her by her waist.

“I’m okay. Thank you,” she said to Jonas who smiled down at her then released his hold and tipped his hat. “No problem, ma’am.”

“Jonas, want to take the horses back to the stable for us. We’ll call it a day. We should walk Amelia back up to the house,” Mad Dog stated firmly, surprising Jonas but also making Amelia jump from his commanding tone.

“It was nice meeting you Amelia. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

For bio and other info on books, author and releases- www.dixielynndwyer.com

ADRIANA’S CONTEST

Subscribe to Adriana’s monthly newsletter (upper l.h. sidebar) and leave a comment to be entered for this month’s prize, a $10 gift certificate!

Today we’re excited to welcome Kacey Hammell, on tour for Book One of her Revved and Ready series, ’69 Mustang. As a former owner of a baby blue ’65 Mustang, I can’t wait to see what she has in store for us!

An Author Rarely Does It Alone …

I’m not perfect, and know how vital having an amazing circle of friends & professionals around me with each new story, and I’m never alone. There is usually a team behind the writer that supports, teaches and assists them that readers don’t always see. And I have a group of them who are irreplaceable.

Plus, I believe in giving thanks where it’s due. These people were instrumental in the release of ’69 Mustang…

Sandra Sookoo – editor & teacher

Joanne Kenrick – supportive, CP, and helped the story evolve into a series.

PJ Friel – Cover artist extraordinaire.

And of course my hubby who laughed and shook his head when I told him my obsession over Mustangs has inspired the story/series.

My daughter & her BFF who immediately squee’d – loud and high-pitched I have to say – then printed out the cover and slapped it on their bedroom walls.

And thanks to Lucy Felthouse, Owner of Writer Marketing Services for putting another book tour together for me. She’s awesome and so supportive of authors. 

’69 MUSTANG

By Kacey Hammell
Book 1: Revved and Ready Series
Contemporary Erotic Romance
ISBN: 9780987799319
Word Count: 4,415 Short Story

Only $0.99 cents!!!

Revved and Ready for passion, heat sizzles between two friends…

For Hayley Fitzgibbon, the heat wave blanketing her small town is nothing compared to the inferno inside her whenever she looks at her best friend, Rory. On the night of his parents’ anniversary party, she no longer resists her burning desire and makes it known how much she wants him. Secluded under a willow tree, down a lover’s lane, she’s revved and ready to claim her man on the top of his ’69 Mustang.

Excerpt © Kacey Hammell, 2013:

“The party was fantastic, Rory. Your parents looked so happy.” Hayley Fitzgibbon shifted in the front seat of the black ’69 Ford Mustang her long-time best friend owned since he turned twenty-one. She’d come to love it as much as he did, how it handled. It still hummed like it had when brand new. No car was sexier to her. Mustangs, especially the classic ’69 had lines that were slick, masculine and just screamed fast and hardcore. The vibration from the engine tingled through the back of her thighs and buttocks causing a delicious thrill through her body. “Thanks for driving me home. It was a great celebration. I can’t believe your parents have been married fifty years.”

“Yeah. It’s practically unheard of these days.” Rory clicked on his blinker then turned right. “They really seemed to like the gift Max and I got them. You think so?”

She nodded and brushed the white shrug off her shoulders. The heat wave spreading through Belleville, Ontario had reached staggering levels in the last couple of days. The air conditioning in the car barely cooled her skin. Plus being such an enclosed space alone with him after hours of dancing, soft touches as they mingled and were less than five feet away from one another all night had her on edge. “Of course they did. Who wouldn’t want to take a three-week cruise around the Caribbean? I’ll be sure to remind you and your brother of your generosity for my next birthday.”

He laughed and winked. “You’d have to be a very, very good girl.”

I’ll show you just how good I can be. Hayley pushed the thought away. For weeks she’d been having the same dream over and over. The erotic fantasies starring herself and Rory had left her breathless every time she woke, sweating and panting. It was all she thought about anymore. Images of the two of them having hot, sweaty sex—anywhere and everywhere—consumed her day and night. She trembled, flashes of heat zinging along her spine. Heart racing, she drew in a deep breath.

He captivated her in so many new ways these days. His kindness had always been there, but lately, she’d smile if mentioned helping an elderly lady get her groceries to the car. And the way he talked about himself, she got upset and angry. He complained about being a ginger, especially in the summer when he burned easily, but she loved his unique looks. Kind of geeky and studious mixed with sexiness and cute buoyancy he didn’t realize he possessed. She disliked hearing him put himself down.

How were any of her new reactions possible? They’d been best friends forever, and had shared all their secrets with one another.

Maybe the intense and potent way he looked at her now. At times when she’d glance at him, she’d catch darkness and smoldering heat in his eyes that made it difficult to breathe. Was it because she’d slimmed down over the last eight or nine months. She didn’t want to think about him like that, knew deep down that he wasn’t that shallow. But he had been giving her the eye lately, passion-filled stolen glances. Since then, the air around them had shifted.

He hadn’t hidden his reaction to her tonight when he’d picked her up for his parents’ anniversary party either.  Rory’s normally soft hazel eyes had turned a golden rich hue, and when she walked out of her bedroom, he’d let his gaze roam over her body. She knew she looked great in the bright blue satin, off-one-shoulder, mid-thigh gown that really made the azure in her eyes pop. Perhaps he agreed. His breath had hitched, his hands shook as he’d helped her with her shrug. His touch had lingered on her shoulders longer than needed. The warmth from his palms scalded against her already hot skin. He’d stood inches behind her, smoothing his hands down her back, and electricity tingled through her body, filling her with sudden fervor and desperation to feel his embrace. And make some of those naughty dreams she’d been having come true.

“You’ll be what, thirty-seven in a couple months, Hales? Maybe we should plan a cruise or something awesome for your fortieth? You’d look amazing in a skimpy bikini you know. Maybe a nude beach?”

The sound of Rory’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She gulped and cleared her dry throat. “Um, yeah. Sure.” The air in the vehicle was nearly smothering.

“Hey.” He laid a hand on her thigh. Hayley gasped. Heat shot along the skin, hitting her straight to her pussy. Her pulse raced. “It’s like you’re in another world. You okay?”

“Of course,” Trying to mask her nerves, she laughed away his concern. “Fine. Just warm in here.” And I want you. So bad.

BUY LINKS:
Book Page

Avid Reader. Romance Author. Redhead…

Canadian-born author, Kacey Hammell is definitely a book-a-holic, who began reading romances at a young age and became easily addicted.  These days, as a multi-published erotic romance author, she enjoys adding a lot of heat, sass and emotion to the Contemporary Romances she writes.

A mom of three, Kacey has made certain each of her children know the value of the written word and the adventures they could escape on by becoming book-a-holics in their own right. She lives her own happily ever after with her perfect hero in Ontario, Canada, and is a true romantic at heart.

Connect with Kacey…

Website / Facebook / Facebook Author Page / Twitter / Amazon / Goodreads / Pinterest / Instagram

CONTEST

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Verity’s Lie by Grace Elliot

Charles Huntley, Lord Ryevale, infamous rogue…and government agent.

In unsettled times, with England at war with France, Ryevale is assigned to covertly protect a politician’s daughter, Miss Verity Verrinder. To keep Verity under his watchful eye, Ryevale plots a campaign of seduction that no woman can resist– except it seems, Miss Verrinder. In order to gain her trust Ryevale enters Verity’s world of charity meetings and bookshops…where the unexpected happens and he falls in love with his charge.

When Lord Ryevale turns his bone-melting charms on her, Verity questions his lordship’s motivation. But with her controlling father abroad, Verity wishes to explore London and reluctantly accepts Ryevale’s companionship. As the compelling attraction between them strengthens, Verity is shattered to learn her instincts are correct after all – and Ryevale is not what he seems. If Lord Ryevale can lie, then so can she…but with disastrous consequences.

Excerpt:

Verity closed the library door and wilted.  With toe-curling embarrassment she recalled her prudish disapproval and cringed afresh.  Why couldn’t she have appeared worldly and calm, instead of behaving like a stuttering, prissy schoolgirl.  And why Lord Ryevale, of all people?  If she hadn’t been distracted by plans to confront her father, then she wouldn’t have been caught so off guard.  Verity took comfort in that it was unlikely their paths would cross again.

ClutchingCiceroagainst her chest like a shield, Verity composed her thoughts before facing her father, then made for the garden.  The root of her discomfort lay in noticing Lord Ryevale earlier that evening.  When he arrived, the atmosphere had changed tangibly; women became more vivacious and men bristled defensively.  He moved with the self-assurance of a pack leader and, when he passed close by, a wicked smile quirked across his intriguing lips—and Verity didn’t usually notice mouths.  But more alarming still were his eyes—nut brown and intense—and when he had glanced in her direction, she felt as if he could read her mind.  Shaken, she wondered if she had inherited her mother’s weakness for the opposite sex, a sobering thought that worried her.

From his wide chest and broad shoulders, to the square jaw and strong cheekbones, Ryevale filled her mind; so when she had received her father’s note to fetch his copy ofCicero, she had welcomed the excuse to leave the ball and calm her wits.  That was, until she opened the library door to find the man she was running from in a compromising position with another man’s wife.

After three laps of the garden, her cheeks had cooled and her mind felt more ordered.

Tonight she would seize the moment; before her father left on business, she would appeal for more freedom.  Her speech planned out, she was ready to face him.

Verity hurried along the corridor, pausing outside the study door to straighten her hair. This was it: now or never.  She knocked and, at a gruff acknowledgment from the other side, entered.

Between the gloomy room and being a little nearsighted, it took Verity a moment to assimilate three men were present: her father, the prime minister and a figure in the shadows.

“Father.  Lord Liverpool.”  She squinted, trying to identify their guest.  As Ryevale stepped forward, her pulse hit a crescendo.  Alarm fluttered in her breast, threatening her ability to breathe.  “My lord.”  How her voice held steady, she had no idea.

“Good evening.”

He stood at ease, which irritated her.  Why did her wits scatter like pigeons before a cat when he smiled in that bone-melting way?  Annoyed at herself, she answered his smile with a glare before turning to her father.  “Your book, Father.”

“Ah, Verity.  Thank you.”

Her father took a cursory glance at the spine then set theCiceroaside.

Verity longed to escape, to be able to breathe and to release the tension swelling in her chest.

“If that’s all, I won’t intrude further.”  She felt Ryevale’s gaze, hot against her skin, and some unnamed sensation coiled and tightened inside.

“Ah, Verity, let me introduce my guest.”

            “We’ve already met,” she replied tartly.

BUY LINKS

Amazon .com http://amzn.to/13CxrN1

Amazon.uk      http://amzn.to/12aEqI6

Author bio and links

Grace Elliot leads a double life as a veterinarian by day and author of historical romance by night. Grace lives near London and is passionate about history, romance and cats! She is housekeeping staff to five cats, two sons, one husband and a bearded dragon (not necessarily listed in order of importance). “Verity’s Lie” is Grace’s fourth novel.

Subscribe to Grace’s quarterly newsletter here:  http://bit.ly/V7T6Jd

Grace’s blog ‘Fall in Love With History’  http://graceelliot-author.blogspot.com

Website:          http://graceelliot.wix.com/grace-elliot

Grace on Twitter:        @Grace_Elliot

Grace’s author page on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Grace-Elliot/e/B004DP2NSU/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Grace-Elliot/173092742739684?v=wall&sk=wall

Grand Slam (Raw Talent #1)

by Lily Harlem and Lucy Felthouse

Blurb:

California had seduced me with promises of a new life working at Los Carlos Tennis Academy. What I didn’t expect was the dark, brooding number one seed, Travis Connolly, resisting my help. He wasn’t interested in my psychology skills. Instead his attention was drawn to the edgy, sharper corners of my desires, proving that they existed, setting me challenges and driving me crazy to the point of combustion.

I’m the best tennis player in the world—officially—so why would I need a damn woman full of psychobabble to get me on form? Despite my irritation, however, I can’t resist pushing Marie Sherratt’s buttons even though doing that shows her the darkest shades of my lust, the parts of me I buried deep. So I set her a challenge, one she rises to, one that has me rising too, and before long my game relies on her calling the shots, hitting the target and bending to my will. One thing was certain, being not just master of the court, but also of Marie is seriously good for my soul.

Available from:
http://www.ellorascave.com/grand-slam.html

http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00EQ88XX8/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1634&creative=19450&creativeASIN=B00EQ88XX8&linkCode=as2&tag=lucyfelthouse-21

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00EQ88XX8/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00EQ88XX8&linkCode=as2&tag=lucyfelt-20

http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/grand-slam-1

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-grandslam-1271356-340.html?referrer=6bdb1f9160564c0525b41f36e51861a0

Coming Soon to all Other Good eBook Retailers

Add to Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18212109-grand-slam

*****

Excerpt:

I looked into his eyes. Swallowed and tasted his cologne as it traveled into my nostrils and then laced my tongue. “Would you consider them to be good people, Travis? These individuals that like to hurt others.

“I’ve known a few people who like to give and receive higher sensations, and most of them I consider to be good friends as well as good people.”

I hesitated, felt his body heat radiating toward me, wrapping around me as I pondered his words. We were close, very close, and his consuming presence made logical thinking much harder than normal. “I’m not quite sure what you’re telling me.”

“You talk about pain like it’s a bad thing, Marie.”

“It is.”

He smiled but it wasn’t a sweet smile, more like one of a hunter who’d spotted prey.

“Pain is unpleasant for a reason,” I said. “Because it’s bad.”

“I disagree.” He raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes. It was a challenging, cocky gesture.

A tingle snaked its way up my spine and threatened to wreak havoc in my body by turning into a tremble. But I beat it down. I wouldn’t let a patient get to me this way. I was the one supposed to be holding the reins here.

“Maybe, Marie, you should open your mind to new ideas with a little more grace.”

“I fail to see how I haven’t been graceful in discussing your theory that pain is good.”

“Can we keep it that way?”

“I hope so.”

“In that case,” he flicked his attention from my eyes and looked at my hair, “would you like me to demonstrate?”

Damn, the guy made me feel tiny. Even though I was wearing heels, his broad chest and wide shoulders were looming over me. “Okay.”

He twitched the right side of his mouth into a half-smile. Now he looked like a hunter who’d captured his prey. A trickle of fight or flight seeped into my system. Which would be my best option?

“Now that’s the first rule.” He reached up and undid the clasp holding my hair on the top of my head. It tumbled around my shoulders as the clasp fell to the floor. “Consent.”

“Doesn’t consent require knowing what you’re agreeing to?” Fuck, with him this close and stroking my hair, spreading it out, I’d pretty much agree to anything. Who was I kidding? Fight or flight was not an option, the only thing that shot through my mind was giving myself over to him. Allowing him to do whatever he wanted, control my body, feed it what it needed.

Damn, it had been too long since I’d been with a man. It was making me desperate.

He slotted his other hand over the left side of my head, the sound of him sliding his fingers over the shell of my ear noisy. My breath hitched and I locked my knees to stabilize my stance. I stared up at him, noting the small shafts of black hair sneaking out of his skin on his chin and the way his bottom lip was a little plumper than the top.

“You see, some pain,” he said, gathering my hair up at my crown and tugging to create tension on the roots, “can heighten the awareness of everything else going on in the body.”

He pulled harder, forcing my head to tip back.

I gasped as discomfort shot across my scalp.

He increased the pressure a little more.

I reached out and clutched at his shirt, felt his hard chest beneath. “Travis, I—”

“Shh, I’m just showing you.” He slipped his arm around my waist, dragged me close and yanked my hair, really hard.

“Ow, I—” A barrage of sensations blasted through my system. The feel of him pressing up against me, hot hard male, all wide pecs and solid thighs. The pain from having my hair tugged with force, and the awareness that my belly was shoved right up against his groin. A groin that held a wedge of thick flesh.

“Just feel,” he whispered, hovering his lips over mine. “Endorphins are rushing into your bloodstream, giving you a natural high as pain alerts your nerve endings that something exciting is happening.” He slid his free hand up my back, tracing the outline of my spine through my blouse.

I breathed in the air he was breathing out, warm and sweet. The scream of hurt in my scalp made me want to wriggle but being held so firmly and confidently kept me still. The heat of the discomfort slipped down my nape and neck and over my shoulders, then combined with the lovely sensation of him stroking my back.

“Can you feel it?” he whispered. “Pain mixing with pleasure, the lines between the two blurring.”

I could feel it with every fiber of my being. My skin was alive with awareness, my breasts were heavy and desperate for stimulation, and between my legs I was buzzing for action. Good, hard man action, preferably of the naked, sweaty variety. “Yes,” I gasped.

*****

Author Bios:

Lily Harlem

Lily Harlem lives in the UK with Mr Harlem and a host of rescued animals. She is an award winning author of contemporary erotic romance and writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including Ellora’s Cave, HarperCollins, Total-E-Bound, Xcite and Sweetmeats Press as well as self-publishing. Her HOT ICE series regularly receives high praise and industry nominations and sportsmen who are talented both in and out of the bedroom often feature in her novels. But whichever book you choose of Lily’s one thing you can be sure of is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy. Enjoy!

Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/

Blog http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/

Twitter https://twitter.com/lily_harlem

Facebook http://en-gb.facebook.com/people/Lily-Harlem/100003519563064

Facebook author page http://www.facebook.com/pages/Lily-Harlem-author-page/200182030094568

Pinterest http://pinterest.com/lilyharlem/

Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4070110.Lily_Harlem

Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/106837751333678531161/posts

Lucy Felthouse

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over seventy publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include Best Bondage Erotica 2012, 2013 and 2014 and Best Women’s Erotica 2013. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Author: Cassandra Carr

Words: Approx 6500

Series: Storm Series 1.5 (bridge story between book 1, Should’ve Known Better and book 2, Underneath It All)

Price: FREE

Release date: August 8, 2013

Releasing through:

Wattpad
Smashwords
Amazon

BLURB

It’s moving day for Sebastian, who’s making a home with Sarah. Though Rob couldn’t be happier for his friends, after the move has been completed he finds himself at loose ends, questioning the direction his own life is heading. Unbeknownst to him, Sebastian and Sarah are worried about the same thing and hope he can find someone special. Will he ever get his happy ending, or is Rob doomed to eternal bachelorhood?

For more information, see Cassandra’s website at http://www.booksbycassandracarr.com

Writing From Experience by Lucy Felthouse

Many non-writers seem to think that erotic writers all write from experience. If that was the case then I’d be a gay man, a lesbian, a vampire, a werewolf, a soldier, a policeman, a policewoman, a shapeshifter, a dominatrix, a succubus… the list goes on. It’s silly, really. No one accuses J K Rowling of being a witch, or Stephen King a serial killer.

So there’s no reason to believe that erotica and erotic romance writers have done everything they’ve written about. Which is certainly not the case in my series, A Taste Of… after all, if that was true, it would make me a young man. Which I am most definitely not. And yet, I’ve written from experience so far in this series. Confused? Don’t be.

My experience (aside from the fact I’m not a virgin) is in the settings. The series starts in London, then Paris, Rome and after that, Amsterdam. I’ve been to all four of those places, and my characters are, in fact, following me around Europe. I’ve been travelling to one of these places each year for the last few years (with the exception of London, where I go at least two or three times a year) on cheap trips, and next year I’m hoping to visit Barcelona. So you can probably guess where Ryan and Kristian will go after Amsterdam.

It’s great fun writing real places into books, and in reviews I’ve been praised for capturing the atmosphere of places and making them feel real. Which is why I soak up as much as I can when I go on trips, take a ridiculous amount of photos and try to see things differently. For example, when I visited Rome, knowing I would write about it, I started looking for places where characters might meet, or sneak off to be together. It spices up trips that are already exciting, I can tell you! And it’s incredibly useful for research purposes, too.

So, although the characters and their exploits are completely and utterly fictional, bear in mind that I’ve really been to Paris, The Louvre, the Erotic Museum, and so on. The rest is just a matter of imagination… the sole reason I love writing so much. I just make it up as I go along

Thanks so much for stopping by! Don’t forget to scroll down, add the book to your Goodreads shelves and enter the awesome giveaway.

~ o ~

Book two of the A Taste Of… series

Ryan Stonebridge and his friend Kristian Hurst are traveling on their year off before going to University.

Unfortunately, Kristian has been called back home due to a family emergency. Ryan continues on to Paris alone, hoping his friend will join him again soon.

In the meantime, Ryan’s lucky streak with women continues, and by the time Kristian makes it to Paris, Ryan’s bumper box of condoms is depleting rapidly. However, there are more than enough women to go around, and Kristian intends to have some sexy fun of his own, and when the boys get a chance to play with two sexy ladies at once, they certainly aren’t going to turn it down.

More info, excerpt and buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/a-taste-of-paris/

Add to Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17368766-a-taste-of-paris

About the Author

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over seventy publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include Best Bondage Erotica 2012 and 2013, and Best Women’s Erotica 2013. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

GIVEAWAY:

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Get Laid

By Annabeth Leong

Blurb:

Renovators have invaded the home of Jason and Eliza Wu. The two haven’t seen a clean surface in months and, even worse, haven’t had a moment to themselves. With stress in their work lives added to stress at home, the couple desperately needs to have some fun. Jason and Eliza embark on a bold plan to make love and get out of the house—at the same time. Through a series of hot adventures and wild mishaps in the car, at Eliza’s mother’s house, on the top floor of the library and everywhere in between, Jason and Eliza find that not only can they survive renovations, they might even be sorry when they’re over.

A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

EXCERPT

By scooting the heaviest things out of the way with the side of her thigh, Eliza could open the refrigerator door just enough to slide her arm in and identify a wine cooler by shape. She snaked it out of the refrigerator, but her hand slipped on the sweating glass bottle just before she got it clear. It crashed to the floor and shattered, soaking the lower half of her stockings and the big bags of flour and rice from the pantry with pink, sugary alcohol. Shards of glass surrounded her and Eliza swallowed, thinking of her bare feet.

Her husband responded before she could. “Don’t move,” Jason said. He was barefoot himself, but that didn’t stop him from getting in close enough to sweep her up into his arms. The man might sit behind a desk all day at work, but he put in his time at the gym. His taut muscles flexed around Eliza as he lifted her out of the mess and glass and tucked her against his chest.

Jason carried Eliza to the other side of the room and set her on the table. “Are you all right? Did you cut yourself?” He lifted one sticky, stocking-covered foot in his hand and inspected it for injuries.

“I didn’t get hurt.” Eliza caught his other hand and brought it to her lips. “Thanks, Jason. Really.”

He kissed the side of her face in response, and she wished he’d gone for her mouth instead. She reached to pull him in for a better kiss, but before she could he crossed back to the refrigerator and folded his arms across his chest. Eliza and Jason both sighed.

“I think we’re going to have to throw all this food away because of the glass,” Jason said.

“I’m sorry.” She got off the table and tapped one foot, trying to remember where they’d moved the broom.

“You stay there. I’ll take care of this.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

Eliza smiled, a little of the tension easing. “I want to do something really fun at home for our anniversary. It’s five years, and maybe our last chance before we have to grow up for real and behave. We should jump on the beds and have sex on the kitchen table.”

“About that…”

“What?”

“If you haven’t opened the document I shared with you, then you didn’t see the note I made about the latest delay.”

Eliza’s voice darkened. “What?”

“When they checked out the master bathroom, they found a rotten beam. It needs to be fixed, but Bob said it means the job won’t be done until mid-August.”

“But that’s only two weeks before our anniversary! That’s more than a month behind schedule.”

Jason shrugged. He wrapped his hand in a dishtowel and began throwing items from the pantry into a big black trash bag. “I don’t like it any more than you. They have to finish the job eventually, one way or another.”

“He always finds something else! Did you ask him if he’s sure about the schedule this time?”

Jason stood abruptly and stepped away from the mess in front of the refrigerator. “I don’t want you criticizing me for how I talked to Bob. Why did we think renovations were a good idea?”

“Oh, Jason.” Eliza rushed to his side and tried to put her arms around him, but he shook her off.

Her husband rubbed one hand over his face. “I don’t want us to fight again. I want to have a nice time with you tonight. Do you know why I was upset when you got home? I left the office a little early and I was going to straighten up around here and make you dinner. If we could open the damn refrigerator, you’d see I picked up avocados and a bunch of other stuff you like. I got home and found the kitchen like this, and I knew I couldn’t get it sorted out in time to surprise you.”

Jason grunted and tossed a few more things into the trash bag. Eliza hovered nearby, wishing she could wave their problems away and start the fun they both wanted. She found herself staring at his firm ass, trying to remember the last time she’d really grabbed it. They’d always had a good relationship, a hot relationship. She’d been shocked to see how the stress of renovations had reduced them to sniping at each other.

“I miss you, Jason.”

He stopped moving. “What do you mean?”

“I miss your body. When was the last time we really had some time to ourselves?”

“You mean other than time we spend complaining to each other about the renovations from hell?”

“I love that you were going to make me dinner. Really, I do. It’s just there’s something I might need more than dinner. I think we both need it.”

A slow grin spread over Jason’s face. “I may have had an ulterior motive when I decided to make you dinner.”

“I hope you did.” Eliza reached out to him with one hand. “Can’t we clean it up in the morning? We have to stop letting these renovations ruin our lives.”

Jason took her in his arms before she finished her sentence.

Buy Links

All Romance   Amazon US   Amazon UK

Barnes and Noble   Ellora’s Cave 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Annabeth Leong has written erotica of many flavors. She loves shoes, stockings, cooking and excellent bass lines. She always keeps a new e-book loaded on her phone and a paperback stashed in her purse, but her eyes are still bigger than her stomach whenever she visits a bookseller. She blogs at annabethleong.blogspot.com, and tweets @AnnabethLeong. Watch for her next contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave, Design and Scandal.

Today we’re thrilled to welcome Annabeth Leong with her new release, Icarus Bleeds. Take a minute to read this exquisitely crafted excerpt. You’ll be glad you did.

Icarus Bleeds, by Annabeth Leong

Blurb:

Icarus, a man on the run, dreams of wings, and of taking flight like the surgically modified rich and famous of Central City. The hacker who harbors him will do anything to keep him, including paying for the dangerous operation in a back alley chop shop. Neither can imagine how much the wings will truly cost.  (M/M)

Buy Links:

Forbidden Fiction’s Story Page (includes links to all sites where the title is available): http://forbidden-fiction.com/library/story/AL1-1.000140

Excerpt:

I will call him Icarus, because he worked so hard to erase his birth name that I will not commit the sin of returning it to him now. The things I said and did when I knew him will only make sense if you understand how beautiful he was, so I will try to force the words of mortals to describe a man who never seemed to belong to earth at all.

Icarus first came to me in the dark, in the rain, passing out of the shadows falling over the street, slipping smoothly into the shadows I made for myself. His eyes glowed from the corner where he took a seat, huddled under shelves loaded with discarded computer equipment. Even then I wondered how a shadow could be so luminous within a shadow, how black could shimmer from within black.

I wasn’t in the habit of looking at my clients. They came because they wanted to be forgotten, and they generally did not want to be seen either. I could not help myself with Icarus. He reminded me of flesh I liked to pretend I didn’t have. Eyes, lips, fingertips, inner thighs, the sides of my stomach, the soles of my feet. And, yes. Tongue. Cock. Thoughts both crude and poetic competed to distract me from the mechanical process of obscuring someone from all the files and IP addresses that affirmed that person’s existence.

I avoided looking at his skin, a lighter shade of what is called black than my own purple-tinged pigment. Icarus’s brand of black flowed with honey, shone with sunlight, glittered with the gold that may once have belonged to Pharaoh. Long, thin fingers, delicate as a girl’s. Red-gold palms, and the beginnings of a scar, a telltale revelation of a story that started in the hands and parted the flesh of the forearm nearly to the elbow.

He saw me looking, and pulled the sleeves of his sweater down low, clutching bunches of the material in clenched fists. “Can you really make me disappear?”

I snorted. “Of course not. Not these days, not with the backups they keep and the triple cross checks they have to avoid failure conditions. Best I can do is make them forget to look for you.”

He nodded, the gesture emphasizing the length of his neck, the quality of his silence. “How much?”

“How much you got?”

He shrank back from me, receding into the forest of parts and cords. “I’m not looking for favors.”

“I don’t do favors. I do a sliding scale. You pay what you can afford to pay. What you think is fair. I trust you.”

“Why?”

I sighed. No one ever understood this when I bothered to explain. “Because I’m not one of them. I don’t want to act like one.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving gracefully up and down in that impossibly lean neck. “I was going to see what you would take.” He bit his lip and didn’t explicate, but I got an idea of what he’d had in mind by the way his hands crept toward his fly, the gesture so subtle that I wasn’t sure it had been a conscious invitation.

On any other night, with any other man, I wouldn’t have. I would have kissed that smooth, wide forehead, done my work for free, and sent him back into the street uttering the vague promise that someday, when he could, he would take care of me. With Icarus, I could not resist the offer. I had to keep him a little longer. Though I hated myself for it, the sentence passed my lips as if it made up part of my daily stock in trade. “After I finish, you’ll come upstairs with me.”

His bowed head telegraphed his acquiescence well before his soft words. “Thank you.”

When I got him to my bed, I knew I should be the one thanking him. He stripped with a benevolent dignity that shamed me. I felt as if I’d brought the Virgin Mary to my room to make a whore of her. Again, I considered releasing him, leaving my work to be my offering to his present and future beauty.

Then his undershirt peeled away from smooth, hard abs, and his boxers fell away from his hips and the thick, dark cock that hung soft between his legs. The shy and lovely young man before me, with his incandescent eyes and visible ribs, brought my own cock surging to life. I could not let him go. My desire made me cruel.

“Get on your knees and crawl to me,” I whispered, loosening my own clothing, casting it aside. Hurt flashed through his eyes, and I loved it for the confirmation that it offered. He was open to me. I could touch him. I could make him remember me forever.

Bio:

Annabeth Leong has written erotica of many flavors. She loves shoes, stockings, cooking and excellent bass lines. Icarus Bleeds joins many other dark erotica titles published by Forbidden Fiction, including The Snake and the Lyre, a story of Orpheus and the erotic underworld, and In the Death of Winter, about a dead god and the sacrifices his followers still make. She blogs at annabethleong.blogspot.com, and tweets @AnnabethLeong

Today we’re thrilled to welcome Clare Dargin, here to chat with us about older alpha males (love ‘em!) and her newest release, Ice and Peace.

It’s not the years, honey, it’s the mileage.

A very cool quote that meant absolutely nothing to me when Indiana Jones first said it back in 1981 but now that its 2013 I totally understand it.  And now that I think about it, I guess it was the same thing that the makers of the Expendables were trying to say when they made those two movies.  Some guys just get hotter with time. 

From Edward Norton, Patrick Wilson, Shemar Moore to Dwayne the Rock Johnson, I love a man with a little mileage on him.  Be it with experience, age or a combination of both there’s nothing hotter than a man who’s a bit older and still got it.  Yes there are some hotties out there rockin’ their twenties but thirty-somethings and older should not be left out the game!

I guess it all started with Star Wars.  You see, when I was a kid, my dad took me and my brother and my mother to see Star Wars when it first came out.  And of course like everyone else I was blown away by the whole thing.  But my six year old mind, though enthralled by all the characters on the screen, only saw Luke as the cool friend but was enthralled by Darth Vader and had a major crush (or my child like equivalent of one)  on Han Solo.  The loveable rogue who’d seen it all, Han Solo with his cool ship and loyal best friend made me swoon.

Of course that dissipated as he fell madly in love with Leia and while Luke morphed into his acrobatic sword wielding Dark Jedi.  I soon kicked Han to the curb and fell for Luke and his hardened gaze.  The black double breasted shirt (yes ladies and gentlemen it was the 80’s what can I say? He was sharp!) pants with the tall boots and the black glove on the injured hand, he was hot!  Yes, the die was cast.

The difference between the Luke in Star Wars and the one in Jedi was age and experience.  He’d seen it all and lived to tell the tale.  Not only did he have that compassion in his heart for the people he loved but he was willing to do what he had to in  order to defend them from the threat that sought to destroy them.  And then that hot bod too.   Mmmmmm.

Some of the coolest heroes of late have not been in their twenties.  Like Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Hawkeye in the Avengers.  Or if you go to tv don’t forget Aaron Hotchner and Derek Morgan in Criminal Minds two men who are forty plus!  So who says an alpha male hero has to be in his twenties to be hot?  Not me!

Colonel Medoro Keegan is just such a man.  Forty-two years old he’s seen it all and  somehow managed to keep that boyish gleam in his eye despite having lived through his fair share of hell.  A passionate man who knows what he wants and not afraid to go after it, he still understands that none of it means anything without someone to share it with.

The second book in my futuristic romance series, The Cold Warriors Universe, is now available.

BLURB

A New Threat? After a long and vicious war, peace is on the horizon for Earth and its allies. However, a series of mysterious attacks on several secret military installations causes hostilities to rise once again.

Redemption. Having left under a cloud of disgrace, retired Marine Colonel Medoro Keegan is called back to duty.

Bound. His wife Caitlin, the only surviving member of her team, chooses to embrace life, albeit grudgingly, as a cryo soldier. Seen as sub-human, she is forced to serve a planet that denies her rights as a person.

Driven. Guided by their sense of duty and belief that some things are bigger than them, they are determined to risk it all.

Hope. The cost of war is high. Can their love and marriage survive? Or will it be killed off by the very same mission that brought them together?

Genre: Sci-fi romance, military romance, interracial/multicultural, futuristic, end of the world
Heat level: 2
Word count – 43k
Cover art by LFD Designs

EXCERPT

Caitlin was a sight for sore eyes. She was beautiful. Her petite frame was perfectly accented by the curves of her figure. And her brown eyes and coffee-brown skin was smooth, creamy.

Standing at attention, she did not meet his gaze. Though it was customary not to do as a sign of military courtesy, he could tell she was not doing it for that reason. Her gaze was different. Circling her, he tried to see if he could catch her watching him out of the corner of her eye. In fact, she appeared to be staring blankly ahead.

Peering directly at her, he spoke in a soft tone. “At ease.”

She relaxed.

“Cate. Can you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” she responded mechanically.

Pain pierced his insides. She was definitely not there. Keegan placed his hands on his hips and hung his head in defeat. The one thing that was supposed to go right did not. For whatever reason, they had placed her in a deeper state of mental control than she’d ever been in. He controlled the hostile emotions brewing with him. Touching her face gently, he felt her icy skin.

This is unacceptable! Not here. I will not let this happen here. Not under my command.

“Chief, listen up,” he said in an authoritative tone. He knew in this state, it was the only way he could speak to her and still have her respond.

“Yes, sir.” Her gaze became even more distant.

Her response fueled his anger. “You are going to hightail it down to the doc and receive a full examination. Tell him it is based on my orders. He will know what to do. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Knowing that she was under the influence of cryo neurotransmitters, Keegan figured the only way to combat it was to get someone to reverse it. They usually wore off once she was away from the stimulus triggers for a long period of time. But considering her stimulus triggers were high-ranking officers in uniform and combat situations, being around here meant she was going to be in a drone zone for a very long time. The last thing he needed was a zombie on board, especially one in charge of the lives others.

Only the jerks in psyche warfare thought doing this to someone would be a good idea. As long as he was running the ship, none of that would be allowed. There weren’t going to be any super zombies soldiers on board his ship. And he’d rollover in his grave before he let them do it to his wife.

“After you come back from the doc, you will report to me, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are there any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

She did an about face before leaving the room. Keegan clasped his hands behind his back. In the blink of an eye, his joy had turned to sorrow. Now faced with the responsibility of looking after his wife, he wondered how could he handle the burden of command and still protect the woman he loved.

PURCHASE INFORMATION 

Ice and Peace is available at Decadent Publishing, All Romance Ebooks, Barnes and Noble and Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/Peace-Cold-Warriors-Universe-ebook/dp/B00DZV25QS/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1374531936&sr=8-2&keywords=clare+dargin

As well as at other Ebook Retailers.

Visit me on the web at:

Clare’s Blog 2: The Haven–  http://www.claresblog2thehaven.blogspot.com

Facebook-  http://www.facebook.com/clare.dargin

Twitter- http://www.twitter.com/clare_dargin