Wednesday, 30 January 2013

Is Doris O'Connor Too Devious to Tame?

What can I say about my guest today?

She is amazing! A wife, mother, writer and a dear friend. There is no taming this woman. Over to you Doris... PSSST She has a GIVEAWAY TOO!

Thanks so much for having me here today J

Hands up who likes sexy Italian men? How about feisty heroines, dynamic family relationships, hot sex, and a haunting love story? How about we throw in some beautiful scenery with a generous dash of danger, and twists and turns to take your breath away and keep you on the edge of your seat?

You do, do you? Well, it just so happens that book three of my Giovanni Clan series, has all that and more.
I touch on some tough issues in this story and we seem to have jumped a heat level as a result. When Jemima's past catches up with her, it falls to cousin Giorgio to honor the promises he made in book two of the series. If you haven't read the previous books, don't worry, you'll catch up. The stories stand on their own. However, if you feel the need to check them out, don't let me stop you ;-)

Too Hot To Handle, book one in the series is reduced to just 99 cents for a limited time only, and it happens to have one very sexy firefighter in it.


To celebrate the releases of Too Devious To Tame I am giving one lucky reader a chance to win either of the first two books in the series. Winner's choice. Just leave me a comment J

Readers already familiar with the stories will recognize Jemima and Giorgio from book two. In Too Devious To Tame I delve into the mechanics of their relationship. These two have a past, and the choices they made come to haunt them in this book.

Will they make it through, and safely out of the tangled webs they've created?


When Giorgio Giovanni tracks the troublesome Jemima down in a hospital bed in Italy, he has one thing on his mind—revenge. However, the fragile woman he encounters is not the devious female he remembers. When it becomes clear that she is in danger, he risks everything to keep her safe.
Left for dead, Jemima wakes up in hospital, terrified, and with no idea of her identity. The angry man, who comes to claim her, is the only link to a shared past she can't remember. A past that threatens to destroy them, and all she has ever held dear.
With danger all around them, and their sexual chemistry off the scale, can they find their way back to each other, or is the past too devious to tame?


Tears clouded her vision at the concern in his voice, and he swore and moved to untie her.
"No, I'm fine, really. Leave it. Show me how it should be, please. Help me to forget."
He stared at her for the longest time, one large hand, hot and heavy on her belly, his gaze so intense it took her breath away.  When he finally smiled, it lit up his harsh features. She didn't catch the murmured Italian words he mumbled under his breath, but the kiss that followed had her curl her toes into the bed with the effort to not release herself from her bonds and bury her hands in his hair to make him hurry up and fuck her.
He was breathing as heavily as she by the time he released her, and she bit back a moan when he simply ripped the rest of her dress off her. Her bra and knickers followed the fate of her dress, until she lay in front of him naked, wet, and wanting. He ran his knuckles slowly up and down her tummy in ever widening circles, and then reached across to the ice bucket with a slow grin.
"Shut your eyes for me, cara."   His voice had dropped an octave, and her stomach dropped right with it, seeing him hold a couple of ice cubes in his fingers. She shook her head and bucked off the bed, when he flicked his hand over her breasts. Ice cold drops of water fell on her skin and trickled between the valley of her breasts. He licked the drops away, his warm tongue taking away the coldness left by the water.
"Shut your eyes, trust me. This will be so much better for you when you can't see what I'm doing." He kissed a path down her quivering tummy, and she blinked back tears at the tender way he caressed her abdomen. He paused to drop a long kiss just above her pubic bone, and his hot breath teased her wet folds. Her clit tingled, and she shut her eyes, as he renewed his request for her to do so. She couldn't see what he was doing, but the bed dipped as he adjusted his weight again. His hot mouth closed over one of her nipples at the same time as the other was subjected to an ice cube being circled around it.
She gasped at the intense sensation, and Giorgio swapped sides. The difference between his warm mouth and tongue and the ice cube sent her body into spasms of need. She writhed under him, and he laughed. Again and again he repeated the process all along her body. A path of ice, followed by the warmth of his tongue as he licked the icy trails away, leaving fiery awareness in its wake. By the time he finally reached her pussy, she was hovering on the brink of orgasm. She whimpered her need when he pushed an ice cube high into her channel and then proceeded to lick around her clit, careful to never touch her when she needed him most. The melting ice cube mixed in with her own juices and trickled slowly out her hole. Her pussy clenched, and she didn't recognize the needy voice pleading with him to please do something.
He blew against her slit and shouldered her legs wider.
"Così bello, e tutto mio."   He followed the words with a kiss, and she screamed when he pulled her clit into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, at the same time as he pushed another ice cube into her empty channel. Her walls closed around the slippery object, and spasmed wildly as the first quivers of her orgasm hit. Giorgio groaned into her core and stepped up his sweet torture on her clit. When he pushed two fingers into her core, and massaged her sweet spot, the intensity of her orgasm hit her with the full force of freight train.
"That's it, tesoro, fly for me." He caught her scream of release in his mouth, and she could taste herself in the passionate kiss he gave her, dimly aware of him withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his cock. Thick, hard, and so very long he filled her completely as he pushed into her swollen core, until he was seated to the hilt. She wrapped her legs around him and dug her feet into his calves to give him better access and to take him as deep as she could. He started thrusting, every move driving him deeper into her, and tumbling her right over the edge again, as her inner muscles contracted around his thick member. Faster and faster he pumped, his harsh breathing in her ear the most erotic sound ever, his hands and lips seemingly everywhere, arousing every little bit of skin he touched until her whole body was a mass of sensation. Again her body climbed toward that peak of sheer joy, and this time Giorgio was with her every step of the ecstatic journey they took together. Her eyes flew open, and she drowned in the rolling depths of emotion she saw reflected in his, as they came together in their explosive release.
When her body finally stopped shaking, she could taste the salt of tears in her mouth. Giorgio kissed them off her face, and he released her from her bonds, and pulled her into his embrace. She had to smile at his grumbled, "If this is pretending, then I hate to see what will happen when we do this for real."

Go on grab yourself a Giovanni man! You will not be disappointed!

Author Bio:

Glutton for punishment would be a good description for Doris... at least that's what she hears on an almost daily basis when people find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to toddler and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children, pets, dust bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic goddess she is not.
There is always something better to do after all, like working on the latest manuscript and trying not to scare the locals even more than usual by talking out loud to the voices in her head. Her characters tend to be pretty insistent to get their stories told, and you will find Doris burning the midnight oil on a regular basis. Only time to get any peace and quiet and besides, sleep is for wimps.
She likes to spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.

Find Doris on the web here:

Monday, 28 January 2013

Book Spotlight on Dark Matter by Michael Perkins

Dark Matter by Michael Perkins
Lightening, meet Thunder...

San Francisco is a place of pure excess and liberation, where every flavour of sexuality is there for the tasting. Robin wants to be part of it, and by embracing extreme erotic experiences to escape her father's hypocrisy. Buddy is a rebel, a wild spirit. The moment they meet, sparks fly in a frenzy of desire unbound and darkness unleashed; and when Robin asks Buddy to kill her father, he knows he has found his destiny.

Dark Matter is a hypnotic tale of erotic cravings.

Available from:


The Spiral Dance

Gods, from your rocky home in the highest snow-capped Sierras of the imagination, swoop down now on San Francisco, the City of Perpetual Indulgence.

Blot out all other sounds from your hearing and attend to the dark passage of one in your indifferent keeping — one touched by you, and like you,possessed....

Yet another turn of the wheel, another rotation of the earth: darkness is cast like a spell. A night without fog.

Straddling her snorting, fire-breathing Harley, Robin Flood roars up the steep undulating streets that slant to the sky and then down them to the Bay. She cuts a loud eructative path through the Marina and rumbles into stern Fort Mason, a former military facility converted into a cultural centre with shops, museums and a famous restaurant.

A bleached full moon leers down at her, one roguish lunar eyebrow cocked; clouds of galaxies extend from it into forever. The dark matter that makes up the unseen universe holds the stars apart. The Gods pay casual attention.

It is the beginning of November, final year of the century, on the night of the Spiral Dance — a Saturday night that falls on Samhain, when the dead pierce the veil that hangs between breathing and not, children who will never die (at least not in the twentieth, accursed century) eat sugar skulls, and a thousand boisterous pagans gather to celebrate the disappeared.

Robin joins the crowd cloaked in the exclusionary circle she draws around herself with strangers. She does not know anyone in the laughing, gesticulating, highspirited gathering of animals with horns, birds of prey, devils of all designs, medieval jongleurs, Green Men, maenads and vampires. Here, New Agers rub shoulders with Dark Agers. Here, imagination expresses the divine with profligate abandon.

Robin regrets momentarily that she has not worn a costume, but her eyes attract more attention than a mask would: they are an unfathomable cerulean, like the sea. Her glance when unguarded can be frightening in what it reveals of the cold wildness inside. Her features are small and finely chiselled, her mouth wide and lush. Her hair is cropped like glossy black feathers. One seashell ear is studded with five expensive earrings, the kind ear-nibblers cut their lips on. She’s prettier than the Queen of Heaven tonight, but there is something indistinct, unformed, indefinable but dangerous about her, as if she might be willing to do anything.

Hidden behind their masks, people stare at her. Aware of the impression she makes, she tucks her ambient rage in a pocket of her black motorcycle jacket and grins like an ingenue on crack. She waits patiently in the line, examining everyone for signs of the roles they might play in the drama of her life. She has a hunger to find out who she is, and she can only learn this from others; she is unknown to herself. Tonight her whim is that she is a temple prostitute come to worship the Goddess, weep for her dead, and party down with the pagans. Her fantasies are usually realised.

The motley line snakes around the pier to Herbst Pavilion, a giant former troop embarkation shed surrounded by choppy Bay waters. The huge space is sombre and magnificent, a maritime cathedral filled with the anxious ghosts of the hundreds of thousands of apprehensive young men who passed through the building on their way to war, and the unhappy spirits of those who never sailed home. It is an appropriate place to celebrate Halloween.

About the Author:

MICHAEL PERKINS is the author of six collections of poetry. The Secret Record, literary criticism, was published by William Morrow in 1976. The Good Parts, selected book reviews, appeared in 1994. Among his other works of fiction and non-fiction are the novels Evil Companions, Dark Matter and Burn. His poems and essays have apeared in The Village Voice, Younger Critics of North America, The Nation,Mother Jones, Paper, Notre Dame Review, Exquisite Corpse, Big Bridge, Talisman, Rain Taxi andAmerican Book Review. He was the Leydig Trust's Writer of the Year in Great Britain in 2002, the recipient of the 2007 Obelisk Award for Lifetime Achievement and the 1957 Dunbar Poetry Prize. Carpe Diem, New and Selected Poems, appeared in 2011.


Other Modern Erotic Classics available:

The Houdini Girl by Martyn Bedford
Lie to Me by Tamara Faith Berger
The Phallus of Osiris by Valentina Cilescu
Kiss of Death by Valentina Cilescu
The Flesh Constrained by Cleo Cordell
The Flesh Endures by Cleo Cordell
Hogg by Samuel R. Delany
The Tides of Lust by Samuel R. Delany
Sad Sister by Florence Dugas
The Ties That Bind by Vanessa Duriés
Dark Ride by Kent Harrington
3 by Julie Hilden
Neptune & Surf by Marilyn Jaye Lewis
Violent Silence by Paul Mayersberg
Homme Fatale by Paul Mayersberg
The Agency by David Meltzer
Burn by Michael Perkins
Dark Matter by Michael Perkins
Evil Companions by Michael Perkins
Beautiful Losers by Remittance Girl
Meeting the Master by Elissa Wald

Sunday, 27 January 2013

#SexySnippets from The Nuthouse Scribblers

Sexy Snippets from The Nuthouse Scribblers.

Hi everyone and welcome to another installment of Sexy Snippets.

As my new book Guardian Awakening is due tor release on 8th February with Breathless Press. I thought I would share more of it with you over the next few Sundays.

Got to show you the cover again! I love it.

Seven Sentences coming up...

The beat kicked in, and Romy dropped her hip to the right, stepped back, and dropped her hip to the left. She swung round with her hands on her breasts, eyes half-closed, and really got into it. The music took over; she gyrated her hips toward him, and she slid her hands up and down her body. She wove her body back around to him and bent forward, giving him a great view of her ass as she brought her hands up to separate her cheeks and quickly let go. Spinning around again, she bounced to the music, knowing her breasts were the star of the show for this bit. She let her hands wander between her legs and into her black panties before moving her hand out and pinging the elastic. The whole time she maintained as much eye contact as she could.

Hope you like that snippet!

Why not hop along and see what other delicious snippets await you at other blogs?

Saturday, 26 January 2013

Anyone for a pair of Kinky Boots by K D Grace?

Today I welcome K.D.Grace to tell us more about her new book Kinky Boots.

After a sizzling encounter in DEMON HEELS, a quirky all-night shoe store, with the store’s hot owner, FINN MASTERS, JILL HART walks away in the most gorgeous boots ever. Her new boots come with an unexpected bonus, a sexy demon named ELEANOR, who’s looking for a good time. All she lacks is a body, and Jill’s will do nicely.

Jill quits her dead-end job and, not knowing what’s come over her stops by the nearest pub intent on doing tequila shots until she falls off the stool. Instead she does FINN MASTERS in the beer garden, unwittingly participating in her first ever threesome. The boots were the bait, the timing was right and Eleanor has new digs. It’s Finn job to prevent Eleanor’s misbehaving. His failure means he’ll have to ride shotgun and do damage control until Eleanor moves out at the next full moon.

With Eleanor in residence, Jill’s bolder, sexier, willing to take risks. But is she a whole new Jill, or is it just demon courage? And how will Finn feel about her when she’s just plain Jill again? Will the maddeningly magical ménage make Jill’s dreams come true, or will it break her heart?

More links will be added here as they become available:



There was a soft knock on the door and Meinrad entered the room with several hanks of what looked like ordinary rope. He nodded his greeting to Finn, then his gaze came to rest on Jill, and she felt her entire body blush at his inspection. ‘Turn around,’ he said.

She obeyed.

He made some sound low in his throat that could have passed as either approval or not. Then he placed a large hand on her shoulder and turned her back to face him. She noticed he wore the Kinky Boots uniform T-shirt stretched tight across his very broad chest. The shop name was punctuated by the hard pressure of nipples on muscular pecs. The black jeans he wore rode low on his hips. The wave of lust that rushed over her was staggering. How had she not noticed how sexy he was?

Then Finn moved to stand beside him, and she understood. Even though Meinrad was by far the larger man, Finn dominated the room. Finn dominated the space. Finn dominated every second of the last twenty-four hours of her life, as though he had shoved his way in and pushed everything else out. It did things to her, that thought, things that were way beyond lust, things that were a lot more frightening than being possessed by a demon.

He stood gazing down at her from some neutral distance that made her feel very much alone, as though the world and everyone in it had receded, leaving her to await her fate. Eleanor was keeping a low profile. Finn spoke without preamble. ‘Unless something’s hurting you, while Meinrad’s binding you, you’re not to speak. You’re only to move when he moves you. You’re to do exactly as he says. You’re to accept what he does to you in total passivity. Is that clear?’

‘Is he going to fuck me?’ She was embarrassed the minute she said it but it was too late to take it back.

‘If I want him to, yes,’ Finn said.

If Finn wanted him to. Dear God, what was she doing? Suddenly she felt unsteady on her feet. She didn’t know Meinrad. Not like she knew Finn. And yet the thought of the big man hammering her with his enormous cock while she was all trussed up was at least as exciting as it was uncomfortable. The thought that he would do so only at Finn’s bidding excited her even more.

‘There’ll be no safe word,’ Finn continued. ‘All you have to do is tell Meinrad to stop. Or if at any time he thinks you’re not fit to continue, he’ll stop, and that’ll be that. Are we clear?’

She nodded. ‘And what about you?’

‘Meinrad’s acting on my behalf.’ Finn held her in a cool gaze. ‘He’ll do as I say, and so will you, unless you choose at any point not to play.’ For a long moment he studied her, as though he might see something, perhaps some flaw, perhaps some weakness, she didn’t know what. He seemed too far away to tell. She held her breath. Waiting.

At last he blinked and stepped back, still holding her gaze. ‘I’ll ask you again, Jill. Are you sure this is what you want?’

She nodded, afraid to speak for fear her heart would jump out of her throat. Then she remembered to breathe again.

Finn said nothing. He took her hands in his and offered them to Meinrad, who took both her wrists in one huge palm and tied them across one another in a simple looped knot from which she could have easily escaped if she’d wanted. Then he led her to the bed and guided her onto it. There, he secured her hands to the headboard with several feet of slack, enough to allow him to work around her and at the same time allow Finn to observe from every angle. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed Finn had pulled a ladder back chair to the side of the bed and sat emotionlessly looking on. A quick glance was all she got before Meinrad settled her into a kneeling position facing the wall with her hands resting on the headboard.

In the beginning, it felt as though she were being decorated with rope; that’s the best way Jill could describe what Meinrad was doing to her. The rope was softer than she expected it to be and not unpleasant against her bare skin. The embarrassment she felt came, flashed hot, then passed as Meinrad looped the rope and efficiently placed knots above her breasts and then below and then tightened and cinched his efforts until the harnessing effect squeezed and pinched and offered up each of her breasts in a tight little nest of rope, like ripe fruit topped by the cherry-hard rise of her nipples. She’d always had sensitive breasts and to have them so handled and bound made her whole chest burn with a need that was replicated in her pussy.

Meinrad worked in complete silence, his hands moving over her body as though she were nothing more than the canvas for what he was creating. His touch was exacting and his rhythm as he worked was hypnotic. Early on she realised that one of his hands was on her at all times. She remembered basic knot training from her childhood days in the Girl Guides. Right over left and under and through. Left over right and under and through. Rope threaded through competent fingers, rope slid over bare skin, coiling, twisting, binding, descending right over left and left over right, pressing a column of knots down the length of her spine before looping around her waist and embracing her belly. Again. And again. Yes, she was his canvas, and what he created took its shape against her flesh, but his art didn’t happen without exacting a price from him, and in her peripheral vision, as he reached around her to secure a knot over her navel, she caught a glimpse of the erection set tight in his black jeans, and she felt the hitch of his breathing not quite hidden in the rhythm of right over left, left over right. As he crossed the ropes around her body, she felt the heat of his breath whisper along her back next to the weaving and twisting and soft swishing of the rope along her spine.

With a tug of the rope every pore of her body responded to the tightening just as he nestled a knot against the pucker of her bottom and her gasp sounded like a rush of wind in the stretching silence. Meinrad gave a little pull and her clit hardened in empathy with the pressure between her buttocks. Then without warning, he slipped an arm around her and turned her over as he pulled two strands of rope up between her legs, up tight against her upper thighs like the elastic of knickers, or a tightly cinched climber’s harness. That done, with a deft movement of his fingers he secured a knot just over her clit, and this time she cried out in the strange mix of discomfort and arousal. The whole gape of her was pressed between the two strands of rope, knotted at fore and aft like a ship, narrow and thick-hulled.

There was barely time to get used to the strange rub and pressure between her legs, or the knot that felt like the tip of a thick finger attempting to breach her bottom, before Meinrad began to bind her thighs to her lower legs and ankles, making the position in which she knelt mandatory. With each knot, with each looping of the rope, he forced her bent legs further apart until she was wide open, yet at the same time held closed by the ropes between her legs. Bound and kneeling on the bed, she tried to breathe deeply, tried to fight back the panic of her own helplessness, something she had never experienced before. She was dangerously close to hyperventilating, and Eleanor seemed to be completely absent from the whole event.

‘Shall I continue?’ Meinrad asked.

K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she, cuz otherwise, what would she write about?

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening or walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband recently walked the Coast to Coast rout across England. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots.

K D has erotica published with Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Erotic Review, Ravenous Romance, Sweetmeats Press and others.

K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Heatwave trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Book two, Riding the Ether, is now available.

K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall.

Wednesday, 23 January 2013

Have you met Carlene Love Flores?

 Today I have fellow Evernight Publishing author with me today, Carlene Love Flores. She is here today to tell us about a great new book out which. I am sure you will love!

Over to you Carlene.

Hello!  Thank you so much for having me here to talk about my new road trip romance release, Sidewalk Flower.   The excerpt I’ve included shows what happens when a girl gives a guy a delicious road trip dessert, he follows it up with a heartfelt declaration, and then they skid to a stop.  I hope you enjoy!

MR: I love the Cover Carlene!

Book Blurb: In Sidewalk Flower, a jaded young woman sets out on an intense road trip home to deal with her past when she is asked to allow a relative stranger to tag along.
But, she’s seen too many good guys succumb to the harsh realities of her supposed privileged life in the music business and intends on keeping her distance.
When she picks up Lucky, the southern gentleman cousin of her selfish best friend, she has absolutely no idea of how to accept a perfectly good person with good intentions.  Home has never looked so good, or felt so far away.

MR: this sounds like a really emotional story, one where the character's learn so much about themselves! Can we have a little taste please?

Sidewalk Flower Excerpt:
Through the slots of window not covered with cigarette and phone card advertisements, Lucky saw Trista exit the restroom and make her way around several aisles, grabbing things as she went.  All he had was a back view of her wild, knotted hair and slender neck that bled into the royal blue and purple collar of her dress.  It was all he needed to see.  She was exquisite, the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, even through the cluttered windows of the convenience store.
He’d decided he couldn’t hold her work situation against her.  It wasn’t fair to knock her for being honest that she would be busy with the band while he was in California.  Most likely his feelings for her were stronger than her regards for him—but she was worth the biding of his time. 
And worth trying to figure out.
She was serious for good reasons, but equally playful for equally justifiable ones.  She read people well but let herself be used by those closest to her.  She was open to just about anything that rang of fun it seemed.  She’d rather leave the past where it belonged but he had no idea how she felt about the future.  She’d make an amazing lover.
The saddest thing he’d learned about her?  That if he’d persisted, she would have slept with him, no matter what her body was going through at the moment. 
She was good and she didn’t know it.  Or she knew but didn’t care.  He wondered  how much longer they had on the road.  Was it enough time to tell her he was in love with her?
“Hey there, I got you a Coke, Tic-Tacs and this.”
Trista handed him the two familiar staples and then one in a cellophane wrapper with the picture of a duck.  He accepted them graciously, curious about the surprise.
“What is this?”
“Okay, that is a Gansito and it’s delicious.  You know you’re in California when these guys start showing up on the shelves.  Taste it, it’s soooo good.”
They were already in California. 
“Come on, open it.  Like this.”  She took hers and peeled apart the wrapper at the seams.  “Don’t tear the little goose, it’s bad luck.” 
Trista plucked out the Twinkie-shaped snack cake and put it up to her mouth to bite down.  Her smile was so wide he could see her teeth sinking down through the layers of chocolate, strawberry and yellow cake.  “Oh my God, this is…soooo good,” she cooed. 
Lord what he’d give to be that snack cake. 
“What’s wrong?  Are you allergic to chocolate?  You hate strawberry don’t you?” she asked, licking her tongue over a piece of filling stuck to her front tooth.
“No, I like all those things.”
“Then what’s wrong?” 
His unopened Gansito lay on the seat near his legs.  Trista reached for it but he caught her arm just as she was leaning into him and held her there.  “I’m in love with you, Trista.” 
 “Oh.”  She sat for a minute in the driver’s seat.  Then proceeded to exit her side of the Jeep and make her way over to his.  She opened his door.  “Can you please drive?”
This was not the reaction he had expected.  Although, he hadn’t thought it out in the two seconds it took for him to decide to tell her up front how he felt.  Not after learning they were already so close to their destination. 
After switching seats, Trista remained quiet and still, reminding him more of a robot than a flesh and blood woman.  She hadn’t registered his declaration, that much was obvious.  He couldn’t even be sure she was thinking because she just sat there, stuck in time.  He turned over the ignition, scooted the seat back, and crept the Jeep forward toward the freeway.
“We’re in Barstow.  You had asked earlier…where we were,” she said blankly.
“No, actually I hadn’t.  But thank you for telling me because I was wondering.”  He’d look over at her but feared what he might see.
“You didn’t ask me that?” she asked, still looking vacantly around the Jeep’s interior.
“No, Trista.  I hadn’t asked.”  He let out a breath and drove on.
This is not good.  He loved her and she was so scared of the notion that they were now having a conversation about a conversation they’d never had.  The next exit sign indicated a rest stop in five miles.  He planned to pull into it. 
Just as he put on the blinker, her knees tensed and pulled together.  If he’d managed to throw her into shock, there was little time to waste.  He drove right up to the curb, parked, turned off the engine and undid his seat belt.  Then he unsnapped hers and turned in the seat to face her.
“I love you.”  He reached a hand up to her cheek to feel the strong bone beneath it.  “I realize you weren’t expecting to hear that from me.  But it’s the truth, more true than anything I’ve felt in a very long time.  You’re not the only one who is afraid of that.”
“You barely know me.”
“But I do.  I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours thinking about all the things I know about you and the things I want to discover.  I know the way your breathing sounds when you fall asleep and how you smell when you get out of the shower.”
“That’s not love, Lucky.  You’re just very observant.” 
“Trista, I’m not joking around.  Call it what you want.”
The dull, waxy aura melted away before his eyes as she became life-like again.  “Lucky, you don’t have to say that.  I told you, I’m not one of those girls who teases a guy because I can.  I will make the time to be with you.”
He cut her off with silence and throbbing eyes.  She has absolutely no idea of what I feel.  Lost at her inability to relate to the feeling, he somberly turned back to face front, refastened his seat belt, and headed back for the highway.  He may as well have just declared the end.

MR: I do like the sound of that book. So here are the buy links!

More about Carlene:

  Carlene Love Flores is a big fan of the stars (especially Orion), honest music (especially Depeche Mode), and her travelling family (no favorites there-she loves them all). These things have always inspired her to think up edgy, intimate love stories and continue to do so. If she could touch someone’s heart with her writing the way others have done for her, she’d say truly there never lived a luckier girl.

MR: Carlene is one of those authors you will want to keep track of, so here are the places you will find her.
Website & Blog:
Twitter:  @cloveflores
Facebook:  Carlene Love Flores

MR: Thank you for coming along today Carlene and we look forward to more from you!

Monday, 21 January 2013

Get ready for the hot twosome known as Adonis Devereux!

Today I have the rather awesome Adonis Devereux with me who have a copy of their book to giveaway. For a chance to win all you have to do is comment saying something surprising about your love life. You must leave your email address, which will be passed on Adonis Devereux.

Adonis Devereux is two people made one. He grew up in Michigan and in rural Indiana, a Midwestern boy with a passion for story. She was rootless, a Virginia native who lived in London, Paris, and Rome before her parents settled just outside Tokyo. Like him, stories burned in her.

They met in university at a poetry reading, and their
 love story continued into marriage, graduate school, and half a dozen children. Now he teaches at a Japanese national university, and she teaches children to invert fractions and decline Latin nouns, all while researching ancient Roman and medieval recipes for their novels.

Together, they are Adonis Devereux, and they’re proud to have published their entire line of Gilalion books with
Evernight. They’re sad to say goodbye to the fantasy world that has cradled seven amazing couples, but they’re excited about moving on to a new line of books.


Here is the Blurb.

The Lotus Trilogy, 3
Konas Seranimesti was present eighteen years ago when the last Lotus in Arinport gave birth to twins, Soren and Sillara. Sillara was betrothed to Konas's brother the day of her birth, and Konas has fallen in love with his brother's promised wife.

But what can Konas do? Sillara is the daughter of a Lotus, and her life has been planned out in advance. She has never been allowed to choose anything for herself. But when her twin brother, Soren, who is himself feeling the pressures of his station, joins her on a desert hunting trip arranged by his best friend, everyone's plans for Sillara are ruined.
Lost in the desert and assumed dead, Sillara is given choices for the first time in her life, but how can she choose a love she has never recognized? Will Sillara's choice ruin Soren's chance for love? And can Konas win a heart promised to another man?

Be Warned: public exhibition, anal sex, multiple partners, m/m sex, f/f sex, bondage, spanking, erotic asphyxiation

Ready for a tasty Excerpt?

Soren had no more time to pursue his dark thoughts, for the shaking of the tambourines summoned everyone to the main tent. A male and female pleasure slave, clad in near-nothingness, stood at the entrance and greeted the revelers. Nathen gave Orien a light kick.

“Get up, sleepyhead. Delight calls.”
Orien groaned, squinted against the light, and rolled over. He rose, shook the sand from his massive, muscular frame, and stretched. His face broke into a wide grin. “Is it time to travel the marshes already?”
Soren nodded.
“Merieke brought plenty of herbs, so no one has to worry about bastards, so I am going to take one of the girls for myself. You all can fight it out over whoever's left.”
Orien, Nathen, and Soren entered the tent and were carried along on waves of music, incense, and herbs. Soren watched as a slave crushed the petals of a purple flower in his hand and threw it into the brazier. Immediately he felt his mind slipping away to that thrilling realm of supreme carnal gratification. The slaves had some touch of their master, and though Konas was not here, his influence remained. Soren knew he was in for another unforgettable orgy.
Merieke came, too, and her natural beauty shamed the crafted appearances of the pleasure slaves. She wore nothing save her jewelry, and even her brothers turned and gasped at her arrival. Gold and malachite earrings dangled from her lovely earlobes, and a wide necklace of gold and silver fashioned in the likeness of two birds' heads looking in opposite directions lay across the upper half of her breasts. Her lips were red as the ripest apples, and black wings of kohl rose from her eyes, giving her a cat-like look. Soren was almost convinced that she was purring. A belt of thin gold coins linked together hung on her hips, drawing his attention to her exposed and beautiful pussy. Clean. No hair. Just the way the Sunjaa liked it. But most magnificent of all was Merieke's headpiece, an ornate black wig decorated with cold-worked glass of varying colors.
“Hello, boys,” she said.
No one responded, so stunned were the men by the sudden revelation of her charms.
Soren noticed that she held something in her hand, but whatever it was, it was small enough to be concealed in her closed fist. The only thing he could see was the long ribbon of silk that hung from her hand. It put him in mind of something fun, and with a grin, he walked over to a nearby casket and rummaged through its contents of toys in search of a blindfold.
Orien took one of the slave-girls and commandeered her. Due to Orien's unpleasantly oversized cock, that was no more than Soren expected. That left two male pleasure slaves, one female, and Merieke.
Merieke walked over to Soren, reached up inside his skirt without breaking eye contact with him, and grabbed his cock. “It's about time, don't you think? We've known each other all our lives, and still we haven't fucked?”
Soren untied his skirt and let it fall. “Well, I've been at sea.” He liked bantering with her.
Merieke's eyes glowed. “From what I hear about what you sailors do to each other at sea, I'd say you're more than ready to take what I'm offering.”
Soren grinned and ran his hands through his long hair, freeing any small tangles from his horns. “I'll make your first time with an Ausir something to remember.”

Merieke went up on her tiptoes and kissed Soren's mouth. “And I'll make your first time with me unforgettable.”
Soren smiled back at Nathen, who nodded his approval. Merieke's brother turned his attention toward a female pleasure slave, invited a male pleasure slave to join them, and moved off. Knowing that he was going to tell Sillara everything about this afterward, Soren resolved to thoroughly thank Merieke for her kindness in giving Sillara her first climax.
The part of Soren that was the attentive lover wished he had asked Nathen what kind of lover Merieke was, what she liked and disliked, and what she liked even if she did not know she liked it or just would not admit it to herself. But the other side of Soren, that adventurous side that liked a bit of a surprise, was glad to be sailing into uncharted waters. The sea had never looked more inviting.
Soren sensed that Merieke, in her excitement, wanted to lead, and he obliged her. He knew that some people dealt with their nervousness by overcompensating in matters of control. Soren could wait to assert himself; besides, he was happy to see what Merieke would do.
Merieke laid Soren down on a pile of soft pillows and leaned over him, arching her fingers in order to press her nails into his chest. Her hands played with Soren's body, traveling over his shoulders, and down his muscular arms. She traced the wide wings of the proud falcon tattooed beautifully across his chest. She leaned in closer to play with the hair at the nape of his neck, and as she tousled his locks, she kissed his throat. Soren moaned and relaxed into the pillows. Merieke only used her left hand. Her right hand still held her secret.
The passion of Merieke's kisses increased, and she, too, moaned as she rubbed her tits against Soren's skin. Soren kneaded her breasts, ending each long caress in a pinch of her nipples. He breathed deep of the spices in the fibers of her wig, and his cock surged to life. In moments it was achingly hard. Merieke trailed her kisses across his collarbone and down his chest. She stopped at his nipple for a nibble, and Soren thrust his cock up into her stomach. The hard shaft slapped against her skin, and she looked up into his eyes and smiled.
Her kisses continued down to his navel, and there she paused to lick. With her left hand, she reached down and grasped Soren's cock, working it in preparation for her tongue. She jacked him off against her throat, moving the head of his cock down her jawline and across her chin. Merieke's tongue flicked out, almost touching it but not quite. Soren smiled at her game. Soon it would be his turn.
Without warning, Merieke devoured Soren's cock, the pleasure of which caused him to suck in his breath and hold it. Her lips held his hard shaft against her ever-moving tongue. Her head bobbed up and down, and Soren groaned in pleasure to see his cock disappearing into the mouth he had wanted to fuck for so long. Merieke looked up into his eyes while she sucked. She knew exactly what to do.
But then something happened that surprised and impressed Soren, a man impressed by nothing where sex was concerned. Soren was so far more advanced than any of his lovers that no one had ever been able to catch him unawares in the bedroom.
Merieke did. As she sucked, she dropped both her hands below Soren's legs so that her hands were out of sight. Soren knew she was up to something, but he could not guess what. Then he felt something cool against his asshole, and he looked down in surprise. Merieke managed to smile while still keeping his cock in her mouth.
Soren was open to anything, so he trusted Merieke to please him. So far she was doing an excellent job. He relaxed his asshole and let Merieke slip inside whatever she wanted to put there. Whatever it was, it was not very big. Not as big as a cock. And then a most pleasing vibrating sensation filled his back passage.
Other Books in The Lotus Trilogy:


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Evernight Publishing