We’re thrilled to welcome Ellora’s Cave author Stormie Kent today, here with a sizzling excerpt from her latest release, Battling Rapture.

Publisher: Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

Book Length: Novel

Genre: Futuristic Erotic Romance

Ellora’s Cave

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Thanks for having me on your blog, Adriana!

I loved writing my new EC release, Battling Rapture. I had written about both the heroine, Niki and the hero, Rhine in my previous book, Enslaved in Desire. Rhine had more page time, but I knew right away they were destined for each other. What type of woman do you write for a man who hasn’t had great examples of women in his life? You give him a woman different from every other he’s ever met before. Take a peek at the sparks between my heroine and hero, Niki and Rhine.

BLURB

Niki is captured by hostile aliens after Earth is invaded. Once a soldier, she is now a slave. She is sold to the highest bidder, and then lost in a game of cards to a tall Ordanian spaceship captain, who claims to have been sent to rescue her. They work together to survive the dangers of the United Universe, while Niki battles her desire for the only man to ever enflame her mind, body and soul.

Captain Rhine’s mission is to reunite the Earth woman with her family. Outmaneuvering beast shifters and a crazed stalker are the very least he is willing to do to keep her by his side. Her touch ignites his passion. Her scent drives his lust. Her strength eases his soul even as she challenges him every step of the way. In the end, Rhine understands, the biggest battle is for her heart.

EXCERPT

Copyright © Stormie Kent, 2013
All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

He pushed a button on the captain chair controls and turned to Niki. He stood. He observed her tense body and intense expression. She gazed back at him. Hostile was too mild for this woman.

“What?” she asked.

His next move wasn’t going to make her any more docile. Before he could think too much about it, he snatched her from her seat and cradled her in his arms. He ran his hands over her back as he made sure to slide her along his front.

“What the hell are you doing? There isn’t time for you to feel me up, you perv.”

She pushed against his chest. Her struggles to free herself helped accomplish his goal and enflame his senses at the same time. Her full breasts pressed and jiggled against him as he clutched her ample ass. It was enough to make him forget his true purpose.

He caught her wrist before her palm connected with his nose.

He spun her away quickly. “I needed my scent to be fresh on you.”

She watched him through slit lids. He forced his eyes from her heaving breasts and focused on what was important. Her wide leg stance and fisted hands. He knew how fast she was. She wasn’t as quick as him, but she could do a lot of damage if he happened to be distracted, which he was. He sidestepped her first pass, moving away from the fist that almost struck his jaw. His right hand deflected her side kick and he used his left hand to grab her arm and jerk her around so that her back was flush against his front.

He crushed both her arms to her sides and jerked her away from anything she could gain leverage from with her feet. He couldn’t resist pressing his face to the crook of her neck and inhaling. Somehow their little sparring session was arousing him more than it angered him. He jerked his face back quickly as she turned her head to bite him.

“Calm down. You will be among strong hypersensitives who won’t believe I own a level one exotic and haven’t touched her.”

“Warn me next time, asshole. I don’t like surprises and I definitely don’t want to be manhandled.”

He leaned close to her ear and spoke softly. “You lie.” Her nipples were hard against his arms and the sweet spice of her pussy clouded his judgment. His cock pressed against her back. Her struggles stroked him nicely. “You call me Sir in alien company.”

Want more? Click the link for another excerpt.

Happy Reading!

Stormie Kent

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We’re thrilled to welcome Jacqueline Brocker, on tour today for her latest release, Body & Bow.

Artistic Temperaments and Bad Reviews

Thanks, Adriana, for having me here today!

This is not yet another post for writers on ‘how to cope with bad reviews.’ In fact, I wouldn’t really recommend the reactions to bad reviews as displayed by my musicians in Body & Bow. Instead, I want to explore a little the idea that bad reviews provide an excellent starting point as a source of tension (in fiction, that is – they are something we prefer to avoid in real life!), particularly when you have two characters to compare and contrast. In this case, we have a musical duo – the loud, exuberant American cellist Leonard Sanderson, and the quiet, almost shadowy figure of the violinist Marco Lambrosini.

Bad reviews come with the territory in the world of the arts. The hard fact of putting yourself out there is someone will – inevitably – be less than kind about your writing, your printing, your singing, whatever it is you do. Sometimes critics are just plain bored with your work. Sometimes outright mean or so spiteful you wonder if you killed their grandmother in a past life.

But sometimes, critics are downright funny about it.

Body & Bow has one such music critic. Klarissa Archer, we learn even before she appears on the page, writes reviews that are designed to score the maximum amount of laughs per word. I would defy any of us – even the most sensitive – to say they have never delighted in the schadenfreude of a hilarious review of an awful film, even if, when you think about it, someone has put a lot of effort into creating it in the first place. It is to this mind-set that Klarissa subscribes, and she does so with great relish. The reader, however, soon discovers that Klarrissa might have other intentions. Especially regarding the duo featured in Body & Bow… but to tell more would be a spoiler.

So how do each of our musicians respond? In quite opposite ways. On the one hand, Leonard is not best pleased by Klarrissa’s review. Ok, best pleased is an understatement. He goes through the proverbial roof, and one fears he might even deck Klarissa if given half a chance. Marco, on the other hand, appears to take it in his stride, cooly accepting that bad reviews are a matter of course, and that the opinion of one critic, intent on getting a strong reaction, is not worthy frothing at the mouth over. Of course, this easy reaction belies a more devious turn of mind, one which intrigues and surprises both Leonard and Klarissa…

It is an interesting question though, how do different artists deal with bad, even mocking, responses to their work. Do they erupt in rage, railing at the critic and wishing a thousand curses on their head in an open letter, blog post, or tweet, that will follow their career like a bad smell? Do they quietly seethe, claiming the moral high-ground but keep it all bottled up and unleash the bitterness at someone who doesn’t deserve the ire but just happened to be there when it finally happened? Do they take the advice of Adam Gopnik, and be almost terminably polite about it that the critic will be left with a sense of confusion and perhaps quiet terror? (See his amusing podcast here on the topic, How to Cope with a Bad Review: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b01jxw57) In the case of Body & Bow, the review and Leonard and Marco’s reactions to it, serve as a catalyst for opening up further tensions between the duo and their critic (Marco and Leonard are on the verge of ending their partnership, and one has to wonder if the Klarissa’s words might have a ring of truth in them) – how they all react reminds us that sometimes we need a bit of kick in the face to make a change, and that bad reviews are an inevitable part of what it is to be an artist.

And if we can’t learn from the review itself, let’s hope that we can learn something more about ourselves in how respond to them when they come.

Excerpt

Leonard yawned as he entered the Hilton breakfast room. God, he thought, you play, you fuck, you barely get time to sleep. He wouldn’t normally have been stumbling through the warm pastel rose-coloured room so damn early, but he was aiming to find the morning paper, and the review of last night’s performance.

The blonde he’d carried back to the hotel room the night before had slipped away before dawn. Probably a good thing; always better if it was just him and Marco to crow over the praise.

Damn, they did good last night. Good enough that the pretty blonde had come to the stage door and thrown herself at Leonard, edging just ahead of three other possible ladies. Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from taking down their numbers, and he wondered what the fetching lady with the black hair and wide hips was doing later that night. Thank God their free Thursday gave Leonard time to savour the ladies of London before their Friday and Saturday concerts.

Marco was already there, sitting alone at a table, eyes staring dully across his used plates. He nursed a cup of what must have been espresso, and only raised his eyebrows in good morning to Leonard when Leonard sat opposite him.

“Right, buddy, where’s the—ah, swell.”

The broadsheet was still on the front cover, it looked like Marco hadn’t touched it yet.

Leonard’s fingertips pried at the edge. “Read it?”

Marco shook his head. “Waiting for you.”

“Right.” Leonard turned the pages crisply to the Arts and Entertainment section, and his eyes scanned for their piece. He smiled when he saw their photograph; it was one of their typical publicity shots, Marco standing next to him, violin poised in hand, and Leonard with his head thrown back. His hair looked good in it. Ok, his hair always looked good, but that one was damn fine.

In the next second, though, Leonard read the headline, and his eye twitched. By the time he’d finished reading the whole piece, his neck was pulsing, and he wanted to tear the paper in half.

“That tone-deaf bitch!”

Patrons at the other tables jumped, and shot horrified looks in his direction. Marco’s eyes flicked upwards to meet his, but he didn’t jerk his hand and spill his coffee. How could he not? Leonard fumed, smacked the paper down, and pointed to the headline.

“See this!”

Marco leaned forwarded, read the headline, and merely raised his eyebrows.

Leonard spluttered. “How can you be so damn calm?”

“It is not the kindest headline we have ever had.”

“‘Chamber music? More like torture chamber!’ Kind doesn’t come into it! This is pure trash!”

“Is it Klarissa’s work?”

“Who?”

“Klarissa Archer. You recall Sven’s review – hammering at the keys like a Viking clubbing baby seals?”

Leonard snatched the paper up again. He found the thumbnail of the reviewer’s picture – yes, it was this bitch, Archer. Who was she anyway? He glared at the photograph, trying to place her. Maybe he’d seen her at a function? Most likely. There were enough floozies at those places anyway.

“Well, she wasn’t entirely wrong about Sven. But us! Listen to this:

“When one attends an evening of Baroque chamber music, one expects elegance, delicacy, the finely tempered sounds of constrained passion. With Leonard Sanderson and Marco Lambrosini, this audience member found herself twisting internally from a truly cacophonous clanging that suggested a strenuous wrestling match between two drunks covered in cowbells. How Sanderson (cello) and Lambrosini (violin) are able to pull this off is quite a feat, if not exactly the makings of an entertaining or even bearable evening.”

A cart came past them, and Marco said, “Croissant, Leonard?”

Blurb and where to buy

Upon reading Klarissa Archer’s scathing review of their latest performance, cellist Leonard Sanderson and violinist Marco Lambrosini have very different reactions. Leonard is filled with rage. Marco invites Klarissa for drinks. Pleased that she has so upset the arrogant Sanderson Klarissa accepts Marco’s offer, unaware that he has something in mind for her, Leonard, velvet ropes and the bows of cello and violin. (M/F/M)

Body & Bow can be bought from Forbidden Fiction at: http://forbidden-fiction.com/library/story/JB1-1.000094

Biography

Jacqueline Brocker is an Australian writer living in the UK. She has published several short erotic stories with various publishers, and also self-published several works. Her first erotic novella, Body & Bow, is published by Forbidden Fiction, from whom she has two short stories forthcoming later this year. When not writing, or Scottish Country Dancing, she can be found reading by the banks of the River Cam.

Website: http://jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net

Twitter: ms_jacquelineb

Tumblr: http://jacquelinebwrites.tumblr.com

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/jacquib

I have a special board for Body & Bow too! http://pinterest.com/jacquib19/body-bow/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jacqueline-Brocker/350975778281809

Here’s Grace Marshall’s latest release! Identity Crisis is available from Excite Books and major e-book retailers – we know you’ll enjoy the suspense-filled excerpt below.

Identity Crisis by Grace Marshall

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

Available from:

Excite Books

Amazon UK

Amazon

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

Excerpt:

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

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

‘Am I going to hate it?’ he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

About Grace Marshall

Grace Marshall lives in South England with her husband and the growing gang of hooligan birds who frequent their feeders. When Grace isn’t busy writing something sexy and romantic, she’s busy digging in her ever-expanding veg garden or walking across the British countryside. She finds inspiration outdoors in nature, and most of her best story ideas come to her while she’s walking or gardening.

Grace is the author of the fast paced, quirky Executive Decisions Trilogy  published by Xcite Romance. The first and second novels in the trilogy are out now.

Grace Marshall’s alter-ego, K D Grace, writes critically acclaimed, best-selling erotic romance. Whether it’s sexy romance or romantic sex, between The Graces, there’s a story for you.

Find Grace here:

Facebook Page:

 http://www.facebook.com/GraceMarshallRomance

Twitter:

 http://www.twitter.com/GM_Romance

Today we’re excited to feature a new release by Zara Stoneley. If you’re looking for my two New Years Bloghop posts, click on the buttons:

GOOD ENOUGH TO SHARE

Good Enough, Book 1

(Christmas)

by Zara Stoneley

An erotic contemporary romance, including menage, F/M/F, M/F/M and sex outdoors.

One Christmas, four friends – but will they still be together by New Year?

BLURB:

Divorce wasn’t part of the plan for Holly, but then again nor was spending the festive period with two sexy men and Santa’s little helper! With a disastrous marriage behind her, and three good friends who are willing to share, moving on could be fun – if only she can accept that sometimes her heart is wiser than her head.

Dane doesn’t do commitment, which suits Holly just fine. But when things heat up between the four friends, he’s forced to face up to his past. Will realising he’s good enough mean he no longer wants to share…?

Laid back Charlie knows that if his best friend becomes his lover he could end up losing big time. But can he resist? And when the girl he once loved comes back, who will he decide to spend the New Year with?

…And Sophie just wants to have fun. She’s got the answers to everyone’s problems, except her own …. is she the one who needs good friends most of all?

Will a caring, sharing, lust and love filled Christmas lead to the happy ever after they all desire?

WARNING – Christmas may never seem the same again!

BUY LINKS:

Amazon (UK)

Amazon (US)

EXCERPT:

“You two out on the pull then?” You know how some deep male voices have that perfect resonance to vibrate right down to the bottom of your stomach and beyond? Yeah, that. I was blushing from the inside out and I had completely and utterly forgotten about Charlie, with or without a surfboard.

Christ, why was it that every time Dane Stephens popped up I was dressed in something that either said ‘shag me, I’m a complete tart’ or ‘I’m a complete saddo’? Or in this case a mixture of both. The fact that Sophie and I were propping up the bar, both with a goblet of wine in hand each didn’t help with the image much either.

“We’ve been working.” I tried to keep my face straight and stop my nipples making a break for freedom as the gorgeous guy who seemed to feature in every one of my current run of dirty dreams rested his hand on my shoulder and sent a warm thrill straight between my thighs. Along with a very strong urge to grab hold of him and give him the type of kiss that would leave a lasting impression. Gee, life would be so much easier if that kind of full frontal attack was one of my special skills. It wasn’t. Best mates with a bit of flirting thrown in as a side order was a better description of my capabilities.

I’d been having dirty dreams about Dane for as long as I can remember. Well, probably since the first time all six foot something of him had swaggered into this bar and given me the type of smile that gave me an almost, emphasis on almost here, uncontrollable urge to strip every last inch of his clothing off in slow motion. But I hadn’t, because nice girls don’t, do they?

“Been out hammering shoes on?” I tweaked a bit of straw out of his thick dark hair and resisted the urge to tangle my fingers in deeper, just in case I’d missed a bit. And then rub a hand over that broad, strong chest just for good measure. He was buff underneath that shirt, I just knew it. Well, I did actually. I’d seen him strip to the waist the odd time at the tail end of the summer when we’d actually seen a bit of that golden orb in the sky they call the sun, and he’d built up a sweat manhandling horses. And along with every other girl on the yard I’d gone weak-kneed and tried not to stare as I’d watched his muscles ripple and a trickle of sweat bead its way down his back. A bead of sweat that needed licking off.

I’d had a thing about cowboys, well, since I was fifteen when my boy friend, as in two separate words, had dragged me along to watch a western in the local cinema. His idea had been to get his tongue down my throat, but he’d faded into insignificance when the hero of the piece had got off his horse. This had been no normal cowboy, he’d been naked down to the low slung jeans that barely scraped his hips and when he’d slipped one hand under the waistband, just as he tugged the girl in for a kiss the rush of dampness to my knickers had shocked me. And left me squirming, and meant that the boy friend got an end of show, tongue twisting snog that shocked me more than as it did him.

And as I grew up I realized men like that just didn’t exist. I just never met a man who’d had the same effect on me, not even the man I’d married had done that. Until Dane had walked in four long months ago and been the nearest thing to a cowboy that the English counties had to offer. He’d probably never had a Stetson on his head, or a rifle in his hand, but I bet he’d look good on a horse and even if he didn’t, in my mind it just didn’t matter. Dane was just hot, and made me hot, and wet.

His jeans were slung just the same, so I just knew I’d be able to see his hip bones if I unbuttoned that thick cotton shirt. And boy did I want to, and I was just itching to slip my own hand tight in there. I just needed an excuse and September through December had left me too tongue-tied to find one. Even if my horse seemed to be throwing a shoe on a weekly basis and he’d been out an embarrassing number of times.

“Yeah, lots of thrown shoes, darling, you know ‘tis the season.” He winked and my mouth watered. Literally. Much more and I’d be drooling, a drooling elf who would have thought? Bugger, I really did need a plan or I’d be spending another Christmas morning just wishing I’d asked Santa for the type of toy box that had long life batteries and lube in it. But was quiet enough not to disturb Charlie.

“Hi Dane, boy. We—” Sophie was practically licking her lips, he had that effect on every female old enough to have hormones, as she drew herself up to her full five-foot one and a half inches and put a hand on his arm “—have been doing our good Samaritan bit.” She knew him? I didn’t know which bit made the feeling of empty spread in my stomach, the fact that she knew him, or she knew him. Because from the way she was grinning in a slightly flirty, slightly too cosy way meant she definitely knew him. Every bit of him.

***

To read a longer excerpt visit Zara’s blog.

Today we’re thrilled to welcome Willa Edwards, here to share with us a very naughty list!

Twelve Naughty Descriptions with Holiday Cheer

One of my favorite parts about writing is descriptions. It’s the closest I’ll ever get to being an artist. I love using my words to paint a picture for the reader, and bring them into my world.

But description doesn’t just tell you the color of the heroine’s hair or how long—I mean tall—the hero is. Descriptions also give a story a sense of place, a sense of feel. Descriptions can pull you into the story, making you feel like you’re a part of the action. They set the stage for not just what you see but how the character feels as well. What’s important to a character, and what drives them crazy.

Being inventive, using your imagination to come up with descriptions that you’ve never read before or that perfectly fit your character (hopefully both at the same time), is one of the joys for me as a writer. I never feel more excited at the laptop than when I find just the right way to describe how my character is feeling, hurting or loving.

The most fun I’ve ever had with description was by far with my holiday tales in my Naughty Holiday List series. Each story has its own holiday, its own theme to work with, that gave me a whole new way to view the world. No same old, same old descriptions in these stories. No, each tale tells it romance through the imagery and focus of their particular holiday, showing how each special day is important for the character.

And none were as fun as my Christmas story, Naughty List. Callie loves everything to do with Christmas, so how could she not love a naughty Santa coming down her chimney and bending her over his lap.

Here are my twelve favorite Christmas descriptions from Naughty List.

12. Caring, empathetic, loves children, crystal-blue eyes, soot-black hair.

11. She tasted like ambrosia-covered Christmas cookies.

10. No clomping booted steps rang in the silence, no rustle of clothing or sack of goodies filled with her valuables.

9. Giselle’s jaw clenched, her face as bright red as Santa’s suit.

8. Callie refocused on her paper, the pressure of her friends’ concern weighing on her neck, forcing her to stay harnessed to her pain, like a reindeer to Santa’s sleigh.

7. Quick and unexpected, fastenings wrapped around her, holding her forearms tight to her hips like a good tin soldier.

6. His eyes dark, clouded with lust that sizzled along her body, like chestnuts roasting on an open fire.

5. “What’s the point? Guys are like Christmas toys. What’s all the rage this year will be thrown in the garbage by Easter, and then you’ll be looking for something new.”

4. His fingers traced the edge of her panties, each of Callie’s nerves heating and glowing like a bright Christmas light at his touch.

3. Heat flared through Callie, curling in her stomach, tight and knotted as next year’s Christmas lights.

2. “Yes Santa,” she replied obediently, her brain as useful as a bowl full of jelly.

1. He lengthened the brush along her anus and sex until she shivered, her stomach fluttering like a flock of turtledoves.

If you liked these descriptions I hope you’ll check out the whole story. Available and ready for download this holiday season. And I hope you and yours have a happy, festive and wonderful holiday and brilliant New Year.

BLURB

Eric has been in love with Callie since the day they met, one month after someone else put a ring on her finger. Since her engagement ended Eric has been biding his time, waiting for her to be ready. Until he finds a naughty list of Christmas wishes hidden between her couch cushions with his name on the top.

He’s willing to do anything to make Callie happy, including take on the role of dominate Santa Claus and spank her to blow-your-stockings-off orgasm. But is she ready for everything he wants? Does she want his love?

Buy Link: http://www.cobblestone-press.com/catalog/books/naughtylist.htm

About the Author

Willa Edwards has dreamed about being a writer since she was four years old. When she picked up her first romance novel at fifteen she knew she’d found her place and she’s never looked back.

She now lives in New York, where she works with numbers at her Evil Day Job and spends her nights writing red-hot tales of erotic romance. When she’s not at her computer, you can usually find her curled up in bed with her two furry babies, her nose pressed to her e-reader.

Willa loves to hear from her readers. You can find her online at www.willaedwards.com, friend her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/#!/willa.edwards and follow her on twitter at https://twitter.com/#!/willaedwards.

Have a Happy Holiday! And a Smutty Good Year!