The End Game is on @RavenMcAllan #darkromance #suspense

I have my lovely friend Kera Faire (aka Raven McAllan) sharing her new book. Over to you Kera...

 

Hi all this is Raven’s alter ego, Kera Faire and my new book, The End Game. Book 3 in the Dark Isle series.

Kera is Raven’s dark side. Or as her bio says…

A Scottish-based author with the love of the unexpected, Kera writes stories to make your heart miss a beat. Living in the land of the spirits helps her to get in the right frame of mind and find light in the dark side of life.

Let’s hope you think The End Game does just that

Blurb

As an undercover operative, your life is not your own and you can’t trust anyone.

Emma MacKay is only too aware of that, but it still sucks when you have to take out a friend’s fiancé, because he’s suspected of being a traitor.

Milo Dorn is more than an undercover operative. He’s one of the dispatchers, secret killers for the department.

When someone is feeding his pigs fresh meat he needs to find answers.

What he finds instead is the woman of his dreams. While the sex is mind blowing, and makes him want to throw away the rule book, he cannot forget the first rule of the game.

Trust no one.

When the truth comes out, can Milo and Emma find a way to each other, or are their jobs an obstacle to high to overcome?

The End Game is on.

A wee tease…

‘What sort of person accepts what’s going on and makes the best of it?”

“A horny one?” She laughed throatily. “And let’s face it, what else can I do? I’m a bit tied up at the moment.”

 That made him grin. “Yeah. So go on, sweet cheeks, what next?”

She bit her lip and looked pointedly at her ankles where her trousers and underwear were in a crumpled heap. “Take off my shoes and trousers for me and I’ll show you.”

 That seemed reasonable. Milo tugged and pulled where necessary until she was as near as dammit naked. Now he had a chance to look at her closely, he could see red patches where he’d rubbed his stubble over her soft skin. Her bra and t shirt were pushed up and her luscious breasts with puckered nipples called to him like a siren.

He traced one red patch gently. “Shit, sorry, I guess I was a bit rough.”

 She nodded. “Just a bit, but did you hear me complain?”

 Well, no, she has a point.

 Okay so what next? “Over to you, sweet cheeks. It seems you’re the one directing the traffic.”

 “You better believe it,” she drawled and closed her legs. Disappointment stabbed at him, until he saw the speculative expression on her face.

“Pity, pet,” he drawled. “That was a great view.”

She dipped her head. “Not pet, I don’t bark or meow, just purr on occasion.”

 He laughed. “Sweet cheeks?”

 She sighed, very dramatically. “If you must. Put your leg either side of mine, not too close, lean back and think of Scotland.”

 “What?” Now he was puzzled. Excited, aroused, but puzzled.

 She tilted her head “Are you chicken, Sir?” She clucked and he burst out laughing.

“Nope. Okay.” He did as she bid and found himself with his cock between her feet before he had a chance to say ‘what’s next?’.

 Milo swallowed. “Ah and now?”

“Now this.” The soles of her feet encased his cock and slowly began to move up and down his hard length.

Milo swore his eyes crossed as she varied the speed and depth of her strokes. Why had this never happened before? Fucking hell her feet moved in such a way his pre-cum covered them within seconds.

Stroke, sigh. “Ah that is so good to do. Oh my. Better to fe… ah sweet jesus.” Somehow she’d nipped his foreskin between her toes, just enough to sting. “Bloody… sweet cheeks you’re killing me here.”

 “No … not yet …  now more eh … like this…” Her words made little sense to him. Every fiber of his being was concentrated on those magic feet stroking his dick. Milo stopped thinking and let his climax roll through his overheated body.

He stiffened and she chuckled before tightening her hold on him, and he came in a roar. Cum spurted all over her feet, his balls and the grass beneath him.

 “Sweet cheeks, you are a genius,” he said as soon as he had enough breath to speak. “I’ll never look at feet in the same way again.”

“I bet not.” Her toes tightened on him, and them she moved. “Sorry, Sir. I have no option.”

 Milo didn’t even see it coming.

www.evernightpublishing.com/the-end-game-by-kera-faire

www.ravenmcallan.com

Let's meet under the Bomber's Moon @RavenMcAllan #historical #romance #wwii

Now here's a story you're going to love. Fact meets fiction...read on my friends....

Over to Raven McAllan...

I never thought, as a child and asking my mum, dad, gran (known as nan) and aunts to ‘tell me a story about the war’, that all these years later, I’d still remember those stories and use them as the basis for a book.

I’m so glad I did.

When I first had the idea for Bombers Moon, I just knew it would be set in Northamptonshire, where my mum as a teen was evacuated to, with her employment.

As much as the idea of a book set in London, in the blitz intrigued me, all mum ever said was ‘it was scary noisy and as your granddad worked for the railways we got out own railway employees and families tube station to hide in’.

Then I remembered the tales of Northamptonshire. Of being locked out, getting stuck up a wall, although not knickerless—well I don’t think so wink. How they used charcoal or gravy browning to put ‘stocking seams’ up their legs, and bought wooden clogs and clacked around the draught old stone-floored manor house they lived and worked in. The older ladies who worked with them, got so sick of the racket, they clubbed together and bought my mum and her friend a pair of slippers each.

My aunt went out with a yank (as all American service men evidently were called) another relative fell off her bike and was rescued by a farmer and evidently mum did dance with the local lord of the manor.

Thus, Bombers Moon was born.

Who gets caught by the man of her dreams bare-assed and halfway up a wall? Lady Chrissie Stride, of course. 
It’s just her luck that she encounters Baronet Archie Duggan. On top of that, the house her London employers requisitioned to keep its staff safe from The Blitz is locked. Climbing the wall seemed like a good idea, until Archie turns up. At least he doesn’t seem to know it's her. 
Archie recognizes Chrissie almost immediately. He never expected to meet her again in deepest Northamptonshire. This time around he is determined to claim the woman he loved and lost. With the war on, priorities change, and love is too important to conform to niceties. 
Will the star-crossed lovers finally find their happily ever after?

a wee tease…

Chrissie gulped. He was big—everywhere. She looked downward, her vision drawn to his long thick cock, which stood out proudly from its nest of hair. She averted her eyes from the crisscross of scars on his leg and arm. Those she understood, he neither wanted to think or talk about just then.

And that’s going to fit in my daffodil? The euphemism used by so many of her friends seemed silly now, but there was no way she could use the words she heard bandied about so freely in the pub or by the older women at work.

Honey pot! That’s it. Merle’s expression came to her. My honey pot! Or Pussy. Okay I can live with that, but…cu… She couldn’t even think the word.

She looked at his body with frank regard. Who knew if she’d ever get a chance to see him like this again? Out of the corner of her eyes she saw the scars on his leg and arm were still red, angry-looking and pronounced. She bit her lips to stop her moan escaping and held back tears. It was hard not to cry for all he and thousands of others had been through and were still going through. But yet again, her eyes were drawn in one direction. His massive erection stood out stiff and proud. Chrissie gulped, her earlier fears resurfacing. That would really fit inside her? Oh, my.

Archie correctly read her expression. “Not only fit, but a perfect fit,” he assured her. “With room to move. Come and lie down here.” He walked to the bed and rolled back the sheet and blankets before kneeling awkwardly in front of her. “Hold on a sec, something needs doing first.”

It was on the tip of Chrissie’s tongue to tell him she’d do it, whatever it was, when it hit her that he didn’t want help or sympathy. He wanted to woo her. Her insides turned to mush. How perfect.

“Think we’ll have these off as well. Can’t ruin nylons, can we?” He rolled them down before putting one hand behind her, unhooking her brassiere, and putting the clothing on a chair. The pressure that moving the straps down had put on her chest immediately lifted, as Archie ran his thumbs over the swell of her breasts, and chuckled.

“God almighty, Chrissie you are so bloody receptive for a virgin. It’s marvelous. I’m going to enjoy showing you what we can do together.” He pinched each nipple in turn and kissed the nape of her neck as he kneaded her breasts.

She could tell he’d had plenty of practice. Her pussy clenched at the unwelcome thought of him doing all these things with someone else.

Grow up. He’s almost thirty, and there’s a war on.

“Now, let me see. What have we here?” Once again he kissed one nipple, then the other. “Time to itemize I think. Two breasts perfect to fit my hands. Two nipples to suckle.” He moved his hands to let his fingers play with her clitoris, teasing her hairs, and her navel. “One cunt all for me.”

Chrissie blushed. Why could he say that with such insouciance and she not even think it? It must be a man thing. However, emboldened, Chrissie licked her lips, heard him groan and then reached out to touch Archie’s manhood. His skin was warm and soft and he jolted and moaned as she feathered her fingers over him. One step further than she’d ever taken. Only once had she dared rub him through his trousers, and his groan had her moving her hand in a hurry.

She mimicked his movements, kissed his nipples, and then, heartened by his response, bent double to put the tip of his penis in her mouth and taste the juices there. They were salty and thick. Chrissie rolled them over her tongue as she remembered a leaflet one of the girls at school found in her brother’s room and brought to class to show them. Crudely written and badly produced, the drawings had them all giggling and blushing for weeks. She wondered just how many of her peers had tried what it suggested. Chrissie moved and circled Archie’s tip with her tongue again.

I could get used to this. The more I do this, the bigger he gets. A thought crossed her mind. Would he get too big for her? It wasn’t a question she felt she could ask.

Archie groaned, and she tried to pull back, scared she was doing something wrong. “Hell, Chrissie, that’s so damned good, I’ll come,” he said in a strangled tone. “For the Lord’s sake, get onto the bed and give me a chance to get inside you.” He moved over her, his tip barely touching her curls.

“Archie, what if I don’t want to, you know…” She didn’t know how to put her fears into words, and flapped her and in the air like a demented owl flapping its wing. It was lucky he understood her incoherent beseeching.

“No problem, darling. I’ll come like a gentleman.” He indicated the towel laid in readiness beside him. And moved again, nearer and nearer, and waited. “Yes?”

Chrissie held her breath. This was it. “Oh yes.”

His cock twitched, and without conscious thought, Chrissie opened her legs wide, ready to welcome him. This was it. Soon she, Chrissie Stride, would no longer be sweet and innocent but a woman of the world.

There was a loud hammering on the farmhouse door.

“What the bloody hell?” Archie stopped mid movement. His position looked precarious as he kneeled half on and half off her.

A voice, gruff and urgent, was shouting.

“Mr. Archie, Mr. Archie. Come quick. The rick’s on fire!”

Saved by the bell, she thought hysterically as she watched Archie scramble into his clothes, his cock being most reluctant to be treated in such a way. Not that she’d wanted saving. In fact, she felt uncomfortable. It wasn’t right. She’d at least climaxed. Goodness knows how Archie felt, still unreleased so to speak.

www.evernightpublishing.com/bombers-moon-by-raven-mcallan

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-bomber039smoon-1972217-340.html

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Bombers-Moon-Raven-McAllan-ebook/dp/B01AYF21NE/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1453622402&sr=1-3&keywords=raven+mcallan

http://www.amazon.com/Bombers-Moon-Raven-McAllan-ebook/dp/B01AYF21NE/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1453622402&sr=1-3&keywords=raven+mcallan

http://www.bookstrand.com/bombers-moon-mf

As my mum would have said I hope it tickles your fancy,

Happy reading,

Love R x

 www.ravenmcallan.com

Early Christmas Present! The Duke's Christamas Abductions @mamaD8 @RavenMcAllan #newrelease #Christmas

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Have you felt the heat...Hong Kong Heat? @Raven McAllan #Romance #Contemporary

I am delighted to have my mate Raven McAllan with her fantastic new book. Just look at that awesome cover. Anyway you don't want to listen to me telling you how great the book is...so read on to discover that for yourself....

Hong Kong Heat by +Raven McAllan 

Erotic Romance, Contemporary

Add to Goodreads

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/24949095-hong-kong-heat?from_search=true

Debra Scotburn never thought of herself as a cougar, until she fell in lust at first sight with a much younger man.

Daniel Van Meister, a trouble-shooter for the Simply Five Star Hotel chain doesn't do commitment, until the older, curvy, vivacious brunette robs him off his ability to control a certain body part.

Unable to keep their hands off each other, they embark on a passion-filled holiday fling.

Surely that is all it can ever be? Daniel's work takes him all around the world at a moment's notice, and Debra is on the last leg of her middle-aged-crisis induced gap year.

When misunderstandings tear them apart, can they both admit their love and find the trust needed to make this more than just a fling?

Available for early download via Totally Bound
https://www.totallybound.com/hong-kong-heat
Out on general release on eBook and Print: March 27th

Excerpt (Adult)

In one swift movement the lady pushed off the side, kissed him hard on the lips and turned to swim away. He was too fast for her. Braam held her by the shoulders, tread water and kissed her back.

She groaned deep into his mouth and let her tongue swirl with his. Her body floated next to his and her breasts teased his chest. The thin lace that covered her was no barrier to hide how her nipples stood out. Braam slid one leg between hers and moved one hand to hold her ass and push her tight against him.

She wriggled and ground her pussy on his cock. Yet again, the few scraps of lace she wore were negligible. Even so it took immense control not to rip them away and have nothing between them. Instead he held her close, let her rub herself on him and savoured the moment. Braam swam them backwards a few feet until he could rest on a ledge a foot or so underwater and sit his lady on his knees with her legs either side and her pussy open to his cock. It was teasing, tantalising and downright enjoyable. Judging by the shivers and mewls she made as he nibbled her ear and scattered kisses over her face and mouth, she agreed. Her hands played with his nipples.

Until his cock gave notice that a few more seconds’ play and they’d need to clean the pool out. He was so close to coming it hurt.

Braam pulled back and she moaned in protest.

“Honey, I’m so close to coming it’s painful. We need to get out and find somewhere more suitable.” He towed her to the roman steps at one end of the pool and glanced around the area. Not even a sunbed had been left out.

His lady looked dazed and her eyes were misty.

“Eh?”

“We can’t come in the pool. Well, I can’t. We need to… Holy hell and fuck.”

She sat up, half out of the water, and rubbed her face. “That sounds rude and hold on, we need to fuck? Who says?”

“Well, you didn’t say we didn’t a few minutes ago,” Braam said. “But we need condoms. I don’t suppose you have one with you?”

“Con… Argh, shit and fuck. No, strangely I don’t. They’re not something I feel I need when I go for a walk at midnight.” She sounded horrified. “Even if it does include an illicit swim. You?”

He shook his head. “Sadly no. I mean where would I carry it?

She got out of the pool and looked around her. “Apart from that, I don’t make a habit of screwing with strangers, even with a condom. Where’s a towel? Blame it on the moon, oh, I don’t know, temporary insanity or jet lag or something. Pure fucking stupidity. Look, if you try anything, I’ve got a black belt in karate. So, towels?”

“Locked away. Along with sunbeds, robes and all things needed to fuck.” He paused. “Or dry off.”

She shut her eyes and sighed. “Figures. Oh, Lord, what have I done?”

“Nothing yet, and in the future? Up to you, but let me say, I seem to have been inflicted by the same bout of insanity if that’s any consolation.”

“It isn’t. I guess I’ll have to do the walk of shame in a dress sticking to my wet body.”

“Or we could make love and dry off that way?” Braam suggested. He could have bitten his tongue out. Do I have a death wish? When will I learn to keep my mouth shut?

“Or not. Sorry. But I don’t even know your name. Isn’t it at least polite to be introduced or something?”

She shivered and Braam stood up and left the pool to grab his shirt.

“Here, use this to dry off.” He handed her the shirt and walked to the other side of the pool where his jacket and trousers were. “My name is Abraham,” he said as he used his jacket to soak up the bulk of the moisture on him. It looked like even the dry cleaners wouldn’t save it. “Braam to my friends.”

There was silence from the other side of the pool.

“And you?”

His answer was to hear the faint noise of the lift descending.

I'm growing old disgracefully and loving it.

Dh and I live on the edge of a Scottish forest, and rattle around in a house much too big for us.

Our kids have grown up and flown the nest, but roll back up when they want to take a deep breath and smell the daisies so to speak.

I write in my study, which overlooks the garden and the lane. I'm often seen procrastinating, by checking out the wild life, looking—only looking—at the ironing basket and assuring tourists that indeed, I'm not the bed and breakfast. That would mean cooking fried eggs without breaking the yolks, and disturbing the dust bunnies as they procreate under the beds. Not to be thought of.

Being able to do what I love, and knowing people get pleasure from my writing is fantastic. Long may it last.

http://www.ravenmcallan.com

http:/ /www.ravenmcallan.blogspot.com

https://www.facebook.com/rmcallan        (my page)

https://www.facebook.com/ravenmcallan            (author page)

https://twitter.com/RavenMcAllan

http://www.amazon.com/Raven-McAllan/e/B00694RHJI/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_11?qid=1408015501&sr=1-11

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Raven-McAllan/e/B00694RHJI/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_11?qid=1408015501&sr=1-11

a Rafflecopter giveaway