Bianca Sommerland's Blog, page 22
December 8, 2011
Guest Post-Having it All
_ By Lisabet SaraiWould you like the pumpkin pie with whipped cream for dessert? Or the eggnog custard with rum raisin sauce? Or the double-chocolate Black Forest cake?
Yes, please.
Don't you just hate making decisions like this? I mean, how can you choose from among such equally delicious alternatives? Even if you happen to have a particular hankering today for one specific dessert, still, the others sound so tempting – will you really turn them down? Wouldn't it be nice to be able to have them all?
That's why I like ménage.
Some people prefer monogamy. One devoted lover is enough to satisfy their needs and fulfill their fantasies. Biological research suggests, though, that our species isn't particularly hard-wired to prefer monogamous relationships or to mate for life. External pressures have slanted society toward a preference for monogamy in some cultures – but not in others. Even within one culture, you'll find that individuals vary in their tastes as well as their behavior.
My characters want it all. Faced with a choice between multiple lovers, each of whom touches them deeply but differently, my heroines are likely to answer, "Yes, please". Letting go of one man to choose the other would be like cutting out a part of their hearts. Indeed, "all of the above" is the only sane answer in this sort of situation.
Of course, since our society pays at least lip service to monogamy, it takes courage to choose a polyamorous course. As David Crosby wrote in his haunting song "Triad":
Your mother's ghost stands at your shoulder,
Face like ice, a little bit colder,
Telling you: you cannot do that, it breaks all the rules...
In my recent release, Wild About That Thing , Ruby is torn between her long-time friend and lover Zeke and the mysterious near-stranger Remy. The two men believe she has to choose; they love her enough that each offers to give way for the other. Even so, Ruby can't imagine relinquishing either of them. A three-way relationship is the obvious solution. The results of this bold choice are more incendiary than any of the three can imagine.
Ruby sank down onto the bed, suddenly unsure. Without a word, Zeke began to undress. She swallowed hard, her pantyhose growing more sodden by the instant as he revealed his blond-furred torso and muscled thighs. He stepped out of his briefs, setting his erect cock free. It reared up from the red-gold tangle at his groin, swaying a bit, like a tree branch in the wind. Sporting a wicked grin, he stroked it once or twice to coax a bead of moisture from the fat bulb. Ruby clutched the bedspread, her heart slamming against her ribs. Was this really happening?
No sooner was Zeke naked than Remy began to disrobe. He kicked off his boots, then dragged his shirt over his head and tossed it into a corner, to be followed by his jeans. Gone was the composure that had first drawn her attention… Was it really less than a week ago? Urgency and impatience vibrated in his every gesture. His swollen penis arced towards the ceiling in a graceful curve, bobbing with his pulse. He struggled for control, his hands clenched into fists by his sides. His skin gleamed like polished oak, smoothed over the sculpted curves of his hairless chest and lean flanks. Revealed to Ruby for the first time, his naked body was every bit as compelling as his face. She fought the urge to literally throw herself at his feet.
Her suit jacket felt hot and constraining. She shrugged it off her shoulders. The silk of her blouse revealed her taut nipples, straining through the lace of her brassiere. Her musk escaped the confines of her panties and hose. She was dying for them to touch her, but neither man moved. She was the one in charge.
"Please," she managed to choke out, holding out her arms. "Don't make me wait any longer!"
In an instant, they were both by the bed. Remy crouched down to remove her shoes. He kneaded her insteps and arches. She tingled all over. He worked his way up her legs—massaging her calves, working his thumbs into the pressure points above her knees, stroking the insides of her thighs with a light touch that shot straight to her pussy. As he worked, he pushed her skirt up into a crumpled mess in her lap. She didn't care. She leant back to give him access to the elastic circling her waist. In one swoop, he relieved her of her underwear and stockings.
Meanwhile, Zeke knelt behind her on the bed, his thighs flanking her hips, his chest against her back, and his erection flattened against her spine. He reached around to unfasten her buttons, his blunt fingers brushing against the heated skin below her bra. The transient contact made her yearn for more. He removed her blouse, taking care not to damage the delicate garment, then addressed himself to the hooks of her bra. By the time she released the breath she was holding, he had bared her breasts. Her plentiful flesh spilled out of his palms. Zeke thumbed the swollen tips and lightning streaked down to her clit.
"God, you've got gorgeous tits, darlin'! Juicy and firm as Georgia peaches!" Zeke gave the aching nubs a pinch, making her squirm. At the same time, Remy's slender fingers parted her labia and warm breath stirred her moist folds.
"Oh…" She hardly had time to moan before Remy's mouth fastened on her pussy. "Oh—oh, my God…" He burrowed into her, sucking her flesh into his mouth while swiping the flat of his tongue across her clit. Sensitised by days of self-imposed celibacy, her hungry cunt spasmed with pleasure under his expert attention. She tilted her pelvis and parted her thighs, trying for more contact. Remy probed her crevice, making her crave deeper penetration, before returning his attention to her clit.
Her whole being concentrated on the tongue dancing in her pussy. A climax curled in her belly. Remy's mouth coaxed it closer to the surface.
All at once there was heat and wetness from a new source. Zeke's ripe lips surrounded one nipple. He swirled his tongue around the engorged bead of flesh, then applied delicious suction. His moustache brushed her bare skin, soft and sensual. Just when she thought she'd burst from the pleasure, he transferred his mouth to the other breast, leaving the first soaked with saliva, chilled and tingling. He used his teeth but Ruby felt no pain, only a brilliant stab of delight.
Remy reacted as her body tensed. He drove his face into her sex, plunging his tongue into her hole, mashing her clit against his nose. The duelling sensations, above and below, drove her into a frenzy. Her lovers worked together to brink her to the peak. That realisation—that the two men were collaborating in her pleasure—was what finally pushed her over the edge.
Thanks for having me as your guest, Bianca! I'm looking forward to hosting you on Saturday.
Wild About That Thing is available now from Total-E-Bound. I hope readers will check it out. And by the way, I'm running a contest until mid December, entitled "Everybody Wins". Any reader who posts a review of any of my books on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Goodreads or the TEB site automatically receives a book from my back list. See my Newsletter for details!
Bio
A dozen years ago Lisabet Sarai experienced a serendipitous fusion of her love of writing and her fascination with sex. Since then she has published three single author short story collections and six erotic novels, including the classic RAW SILK. Dozens of her shorter works have been released as ebooks and in print anthologies. She edited the acclaimed anthologies SACRED EXCHANGE and CREAM and is currently responsible for the altruistic erotica series COMING TOGETHER PRESENTS. In addition, she reviews erotica and erotic romance for the Erotica Reades and Writers Association (http://www.erotica-readers.com) and Erotica Revealed (http://www.eroticarevealed.com) websites.
Lisabet holds more degrees than anyone needs from prestigious universities who would no doubt be embarrassed by her chosen genre. She loves to travel and currently lives in Southeast Asia with her highly tolerant husband and two cosmopolitan felines. For more information on Lisabet and her writing visit Lisabet Sarai's Fantasy Factory (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com).
December 4, 2011
DEADLY CAPTIVE: Collateral Damage Last Sneak Peek and COVER REVEAL!
7 Days Left!
And in case you haven't checked my 'Bad thing I'm doing' Schedule, here's some of the stops I'll be making to celebrate the release of DCCD:
December 9th Coffee Time Romance Chat with several BDSM authors discussing Real vs Fantasy Doms
December 10th I will be visiting the fabulous Lisabet Sarai while she's a guest here.
December 11th I'll be in The Playroom
December 12th I'll be visiting Forbidden Bookshelves and RomCon's Readerville Amorous Ave Chat
December 13th I'll be at the Kinky Book Reviews blog
December 15h I'll be at the Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews Blog
December 16th to the 18th I'll be taking part in the Stuff Your Stockings Blog Hop
So I might be a bit busy, but there will be some great prizes if you decide to keep me company! :)
And now for what you've all been waiting for! The first reveal of the cover for DEADLY CAPTIVE: Collateral Damage!
_I am so in love with this cover. A big THANK YOU to Fiona Jayde for managing to turn the emotion from the book into a work of art.
This last excerpt is a slightly rougher scene that the previous ones, so please don't read it if you have sensitive triggers. It is by no means the worst scene in the book (not by a long shot) but I thought a little punishment might be good for the impatient ;)
Excerpt from Deadly Captive: Collateral Damage (Click the tiny 'read more'
_ His expression softened, and so did his grip on my neck. He wrapped my wet hair loosely around his hand and pulled me into a solid embrace, planting a rewarding kiss on my passive lips. "You will enjoy being mine, Nicole."
Sure. Until Cyrus decides to take me.
"You will go to him when I tell you to." His lips slid down to my throat where he sucked and bit lightly on my flesh. "To please me."
Oh, twisted. But I could sorta see that being easier. Convince myself pleasing Vince mattered. Play at obedience. Let Cyrus or whoever else fuck me as part of the act.
And all the while, I'd be figuring out how to get Alrik out of here. Before they turned him into someone like Vince.
Too bad I can't save him, too.
"We have a lot of work ahead of us," Vince said in a way that told me he'd probably read that last thought. "Your submission will be real. I won't accept any less."
Whatever. "Can we go see Alrik?"
"Once you're dressed."
Right. I dropped the towel and then grabbed the panties from the top of the pile of clothes.
He shook his head and held out his hand. "I will dress you, pet."
"Like hell you will." My chin jutted up, even as I internally groaned. I'd volunteered for this. I could deal with him giving me to the other men, but him dressing me was too much?
"I don't expect you to like taking orders. You fought long and hard for your independence." His eyes showed a glimmer of sympathy before they hardened. "But you will learn." He pointed at the sink. "Bend over."
I stepped away from him, and the counter. "Why?"
He closed the distance between us, barred his arms across my stomach, and then pushed down on the back of my head until I had to brace my arms on the counter or smash my face. "You know why."
Again? Already? I rested my forehead on the ledge of the sink and opened my thighs hip-width. My face heated up as warmth trickled out, making my pussy wet and ready. Humiliating, but at least it wouldn't hurt. At least it was Vince.
The click of his belt buckle made my insides clench. A wisp of sliding leather and I had to bite back a groan. Any minute . . .
"Count for me."
Swish! CRACK! A stinging thud ripped a scream from my throat. I choked and gasped as I tried to throw myself on the floor.
He gathered my hair in his fist and used it to hold me up. "How many is that?" He gave me a little shake. "How many?"
"One." I whimpered as he stroked my hair, and then ran his hand down my spine and over the blazing flesh of my ass. "But I thought—"
"I was wrong to use pleasure as a punishment. It won't happen again." He patted my butt. "Now, behave or I will bring you to the arena and chain you so all our guests can witness you being disciplined. And it will be much worse, because they pay to hear you scream."
"Arena?" Shudders raked my body, and my knees almost gave out. "There's an arena here? What happens there?"
Even as I asked, the answer presented itself clearly as a headline in my head. Those screaming women. They weren't all teachers. According to Cyrus, there were only five of us.
"Let's make sure you never find out." He stepped back. "Are you ready?"
I gulped, folded my arms on the counter, and then lay my head on them. "I'm ready."
"Good. I'll stop at ten if you don't move."
I closed my eyes.
Swish! CRACK!
My hips jumped as I absorbed the pain, but I managed to stay put.
"Two!"
And in case you haven't checked my 'Bad thing I'm doing' Schedule, here's some of the stops I'll be making to celebrate the release of DCCD:
December 9th Coffee Time Romance Chat with several BDSM authors discussing Real vs Fantasy Doms
December 10th I will be visiting the fabulous Lisabet Sarai while she's a guest here.
December 11th I'll be in The Playroom
December 12th I'll be visiting Forbidden Bookshelves and RomCon's Readerville Amorous Ave Chat
December 13th I'll be at the Kinky Book Reviews blog
December 15h I'll be at the Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews Blog
December 16th to the 18th I'll be taking part in the Stuff Your Stockings Blog Hop
So I might be a bit busy, but there will be some great prizes if you decide to keep me company! :)
And now for what you've all been waiting for! The first reveal of the cover for DEADLY CAPTIVE: Collateral Damage!
_I am so in love with this cover. A big THANK YOU to Fiona Jayde for managing to turn the emotion from the book into a work of art.This last excerpt is a slightly rougher scene that the previous ones, so please don't read it if you have sensitive triggers. It is by no means the worst scene in the book (not by a long shot) but I thought a little punishment might be good for the impatient ;)
Excerpt from Deadly Captive: Collateral Damage (Click the tiny 'read more'_ His expression softened, and so did his grip on my neck. He wrapped my wet hair loosely around his hand and pulled me into a solid embrace, planting a rewarding kiss on my passive lips. "You will enjoy being mine, Nicole."
Sure. Until Cyrus decides to take me.
"You will go to him when I tell you to." His lips slid down to my throat where he sucked and bit lightly on my flesh. "To please me."
Oh, twisted. But I could sorta see that being easier. Convince myself pleasing Vince mattered. Play at obedience. Let Cyrus or whoever else fuck me as part of the act.
And all the while, I'd be figuring out how to get Alrik out of here. Before they turned him into someone like Vince.
Too bad I can't save him, too.
"We have a lot of work ahead of us," Vince said in a way that told me he'd probably read that last thought. "Your submission will be real. I won't accept any less."
Whatever. "Can we go see Alrik?"
"Once you're dressed."
Right. I dropped the towel and then grabbed the panties from the top of the pile of clothes.
He shook his head and held out his hand. "I will dress you, pet."
"Like hell you will." My chin jutted up, even as I internally groaned. I'd volunteered for this. I could deal with him giving me to the other men, but him dressing me was too much?
"I don't expect you to like taking orders. You fought long and hard for your independence." His eyes showed a glimmer of sympathy before they hardened. "But you will learn." He pointed at the sink. "Bend over."
I stepped away from him, and the counter. "Why?"
He closed the distance between us, barred his arms across my stomach, and then pushed down on the back of my head until I had to brace my arms on the counter or smash my face. "You know why."
Again? Already? I rested my forehead on the ledge of the sink and opened my thighs hip-width. My face heated up as warmth trickled out, making my pussy wet and ready. Humiliating, but at least it wouldn't hurt. At least it was Vince.
The click of his belt buckle made my insides clench. A wisp of sliding leather and I had to bite back a groan. Any minute . . .
"Count for me."
Swish! CRACK! A stinging thud ripped a scream from my throat. I choked and gasped as I tried to throw myself on the floor.
He gathered my hair in his fist and used it to hold me up. "How many is that?" He gave me a little shake. "How many?"
"One." I whimpered as he stroked my hair, and then ran his hand down my spine and over the blazing flesh of my ass. "But I thought—"
"I was wrong to use pleasure as a punishment. It won't happen again." He patted my butt. "Now, behave or I will bring you to the arena and chain you so all our guests can witness you being disciplined. And it will be much worse, because they pay to hear you scream."
"Arena?" Shudders raked my body, and my knees almost gave out. "There's an arena here? What happens there?"
Even as I asked, the answer presented itself clearly as a headline in my head. Those screaming women. They weren't all teachers. According to Cyrus, there were only five of us.
"Let's make sure you never find out." He stepped back. "Are you ready?"
I gulped, folded my arms on the counter, and then lay my head on them. "I'm ready."
"Good. I'll stop at ten if you don't move."
I closed my eyes.
Swish! CRACK!
My hips jumped as I absorbed the pain, but I managed to stay put.
"Two!"
December 1, 2011
I'm No Angel Interview with LC DEAN
_Seriously, I need to start doing these more often! :) With her dirty mind that comes up with things like a human dessert tray and Spicy Rock-hard Balls, please welcome...LC Dean
L, darlin' we're going to start off nice and simple. What's your favourite thing to watch on TV while being intimate? (And that questions only dirty if you want it to be)
The reflection of my baby's backside rising and falling. Was that dirty? ;-D
*Having inappropriate thoughts about her man* Umm...
Next question! Imagine a very ordinary situation and find a way to make it romantic (extra points for creativity)
I'm shopping in the grocery store and my lover surprises me in the fruit aisle, I grab my usual oranges and apples; he slides fat, seedless grapes into the cart. Pressing one of the juicy globes to my lips, he urges me to open, "A small treat until later."
The fruit bursts in my mouth, showering my taste buds with sweetness. I shiver and move on to the dairy counter where I pick up skim milk; he adds whipped cream with a spine-melting grin. In frozen foods, I throw veggies for the week into the cart, but he, oh so wicked man, stops near the ice cream door and selects a large jar of liquid fudge.
I envision myself spread before him as a human dessert tray, and I struggle for composure. The store is busy with harried women rushing through the tedium of shopping, but when he sets the chocolate on top of my purchases and leans close to whisper, "I hope your sheets are stain resistant," I know I won't survive through the rest of my list. Suddenly, I do not need eggs, bread, or chicken, nearly as much as I need him and the things in the cart. I turn for the checkout but he stops me. "Finish you shopping, love. We might need sustenance by morning."
Trapped between the sexiness of his smile and the loaves of Wonder bread, I hear the promise of tomorrow in his casual seduction and I am lost.
Very nice...who's in the mood to do some groceries? ;)
Okay, let's take it up a notch. If you found a sexy man/woman tied up on your bed, what would you do with him/her?
LOL – does that even need an answer? You should watch what you ask, Bianca. You trigger all kinds of crazy in my head. Uhmm, let me see…
If I walked into the bedroom, exhausted after a long, hard day of work, and there spread eagle and blindfolded in the middle of my four-poster bed lay my gorgeous next door neighbour – who I might mention is also long and hard and sweaty and gorgeous and…but I digress. I'd contemplate all the things I would like to do to him, but most of them would require we switch places. In a fit of inspiration I would circle through the bedroom to the on-suite bath and grab a bottle of warming massage oil. Hell, if the man was offering it would be rude to turn him down, right?
_I'd climb onto the mattress and swing astride his lean hips. Did I mention he's gorgeous? With the uber sexy intelligence of Colin Firth (The King's Speech) and the intense sensuality of Jared Padalecki (Sam Winchester - Supernatural). He would moan as I settle against him and drizzle oil from the hollow at the base of his throat, across his wide, solid pecs, downward over his tight abs that would quiver and flinch for me, to the tiny well of his belly button.Oops, let me close the door before this fantasy gets out of hand…
__Drats!All right, moving on. What do you consider the most erotic fruit?
The obvious answer would be a banana, but I am going to go with anything small and intensely flavoured that can be hand fed to me by a man: strawberries, grapes, even slices of blood orange would be equally sexy in my book because taste heightens all the senses.
Name a historical figure you admire. Explain why.
Wow, we just got serious. I would say Sojourner Truth, who was born and raised a slave but later became a voice for both freedom and women's equality in a world where both were denied her. Though she is often quoted as saying, "Ain't I a woman?" Her actual words had a greater and more positive influence on her audience than those so frequently misquoted. "I have heard the bible and have learned that Eve caused man to sin. Well, if woman upset the world, do give her a chance to set it right side up again."
What mythical creature would you want to be?
A fairy – laughter, mischief, a gorgeous home in the woods, and the ability to fly – seriously, how cool would that be?
Beer, wine, or spirits?
Spirits – a little tequila in my margarita, aged brandy in my eggnog, or spiced rum in my Coke, and I am a happy woman.
If you had to choose between an angel and a vampire, which would you choose? Why?
Angel all the way. Powerful – come on the whole smiting with the hand of God thing how Dom sexy is that – compassionate, able to fly, and well not wanting to feed on me – yep, that last is a biggie. I like my blood where it is thank you very much.
Most people would say uniforms are sexy. Do you agree? Which is the sexiest in your opinion?
I agree one hundred percent. I would have to say I appreciate any of the armed forces, but probably my favourite is the U.S. Marines; however, a fireman works too, oh, or a police officer, and have you seen the ice-cream parlour guy—absolutely lickable. ;-P
What's your favourite action movie? If you don't have a favourite, name one you didn't hate.
That's easy – The Transporter with Jason Stratham. High action, a little humour, a bit of romance and a really clever hero. Yum.
Name your favourite cookie. No, seriously, tell us what it is and give it a new name.
LOL – uhmm peppernuts (pfeffernüsse) because they are delicious, and I used to make them with my grandmother. A new name? Spicy Rock-hard Balls
Who's your favourite cartoon character? What do you like about them?
Willie E. Coyote – no matter what goes wrong he keeps on trying. That is certainly admirable.
What is the name of the last book you wanted to use as kindling?
Anything by Earnest Hemmingway. His writing is just so naturally arrogant – which is probably why he was a hit with men, but his voice pisses me off for some unfathomable reason. I apologize to literary critics everywhere.
What songs would you choose for the soundtrack of your life?
Tough one. How about a really cheesy one that a friend of mine just reminded me of the other day. Theme song to the 1970's sitcom "One Day at a Time" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M82CUd6isyY
Of all your characters, which one do you think would be best in a crisis?
Selleck Mathews [Ginger Snaps for Two] because his primary concern is those he loves and protects. He would take charge and maintain order no matter how crazy things became.
Author Bio:
LC Dean has lived all over the United States from the glorious South to the freethinking West Coast, but returned to the Midwest over a decade ago and now resides in the fantastic state of MN. LC's main goal professionally is to push the boundaries her often puritanical upbringing created. Writing about love that does not need society to define it, has been a freeing experience for her and her characters, and she hopes that readers find a similar joy in the reading.
The Hangout (LC's Blog) http://lcdean.blogspot.com/
Buy Link: http://www.decadentpublishing.com/advanced_search_result.php?keywords=L.C.+Dean&osCsid=jtnkg6kekgcfrnjn1bil4ipos6&button=search
Facebook connection: https://www.facebook.com/authorLCDean?sk=wall
November 27, 2011
Sneak Peek part Deux! DEADLY CAPTIVE: Collateral Damage
2 Weeks Left until the release of DEADLY CAPTIVE: Collateral Damage!
Let's celebrate with a look at the blurb and another Sneak Peek!
Blurb:
Stolen from a bright life full of colors, happiness and youth, Nicole Reed is dragged into a pit of pain and depravity where all she can hope for is a quick end. But her captors don't want to kill her. They want to use her to teach a little boy whom they plan to mold in their image.
She must free him before that happens. Only, she can't stand against those who hold him, not alone. Her only hope is Vince, one of her tormentors, who may still show a glimmer of humanity.
Or maybe that's just a trick of the light.
Vince and Nicole share a cup of coffee:
Small creases formed on his forehead and around his dark eyes. "Why are you 'fucked up'?"
Seriously? This guy was too much. "I don't know—captivity does that to me."
"You've been treated well."
My brow shot up. "Have I? Well, I guess I'm being over sensitive. I kinda take basic liberties for granted. What can you do?"
He stood and set down his cup. "I don't appreciate sarcasm."
I took another sip and smiled. Guess he wasn't as infallible as he pretended to be. "Well, I don't appreciate being kidnapped and raped. But we don't always get what we want."
"No, I suppose we don't." He traced the open collar of his black silk shirt, revealing just the top of a very hard, very well defined chest. Muscles curved in smooth slopes jumped as though my gaze was a physical touch. He chuckled and I looked up to see him watching me. "You want to hate me."
"I do hate you." I shrugged at his doubtful expression. "You're just easy on the eyes. Which I'm sure you know."
"Really." Without a twitch of warning, he closed the distance between us and took my cup. "Shall I prove you wrong?"
I skirted away from him, ducking and skidding from the bed. I might have been prepared to let him do what he would last night, but this morning I couldn't. I wouldn't. Not without a fight.
"Relax. I won't hurt you." He placed the mug on the table and then strode across the room. I swung at him and he caught my wrists. "Don't force me to tie you up."
"Don'tdon'tdon't." I whimpered as he wrapped his arms around me. Tears streaked my cheeks, gathered on my lips, hot and salty. I flattened my hands on his chest and dug my nails into his skin. "Vince . . . ."
"Shh." He pressed his lips to the top of my head and then bent down to whisper against my lips. "I want to show you something."
_
Let's celebrate with a look at the blurb and another Sneak Peek!
Blurb: Stolen from a bright life full of colors, happiness and youth, Nicole Reed is dragged into a pit of pain and depravity where all she can hope for is a quick end. But her captors don't want to kill her. They want to use her to teach a little boy whom they plan to mold in their image.
She must free him before that happens. Only, she can't stand against those who hold him, not alone. Her only hope is Vince, one of her tormentors, who may still show a glimmer of humanity.
Or maybe that's just a trick of the light.
Vince and Nicole share a cup of coffee:
Small creases formed on his forehead and around his dark eyes. "Why are you 'fucked up'?"
Seriously? This guy was too much. "I don't know—captivity does that to me."
"You've been treated well."
My brow shot up. "Have I? Well, I guess I'm being over sensitive. I kinda take basic liberties for granted. What can you do?"
He stood and set down his cup. "I don't appreciate sarcasm."
I took another sip and smiled. Guess he wasn't as infallible as he pretended to be. "Well, I don't appreciate being kidnapped and raped. But we don't always get what we want."
"No, I suppose we don't." He traced the open collar of his black silk shirt, revealing just the top of a very hard, very well defined chest. Muscles curved in smooth slopes jumped as though my gaze was a physical touch. He chuckled and I looked up to see him watching me. "You want to hate me."
"I do hate you." I shrugged at his doubtful expression. "You're just easy on the eyes. Which I'm sure you know."
"Really." Without a twitch of warning, he closed the distance between us and took my cup. "Shall I prove you wrong?"
I skirted away from him, ducking and skidding from the bed. I might have been prepared to let him do what he would last night, but this morning I couldn't. I wouldn't. Not without a fight.
"Relax. I won't hurt you." He placed the mug on the table and then strode across the room. I swung at him and he caught my wrists. "Don't force me to tie you up."
"Don'tdon'tdon't." I whimpered as he wrapped his arms around me. Tears streaked my cheeks, gathered on my lips, hot and salty. I flattened my hands on his chest and dug my nails into his skin. "Vince . . . ."
"Shh." He pressed his lips to the top of my head and then bent down to whisper against my lips. "I want to show you something."
_
November 21, 2011
Guest Post and a GIVEAWAY!-Music that made 'this' scene
_By Doris O'Connor
Many authors listen to music when writing. Some have specific play lists depending on which scene they're tackling and what mood they're trying to create.
I am not one of those authors! If there is music in the background it's either children's telly, some obscure teenage channel or the dulcet tones of my fifteen year old practicing the keyboard and singing off key as though she was auditioning for the X-factor. Actually she is quite good, if I say so myself. I can't hold a note to save my life.
Lately my back ground also involves the snuffles and gurgles of our three month old. Actually when he does that not a lot of writing gets done, because he is far too cute a distraction. It's a bit of a dilemma, as I cannot for the life of me write a sex scene when he's awake. As my stories contain quite a few of those scenes, it causes a bit of a problem. In my current WIP the hero got so frustrated at having to wait they never made it inside—whoops!
*grin*
I know what you're thinking. Why is this mad woman blogging about music that made 'this' scene when she doesn't actually write to it? Ah, well, I haven't gone completely mad, I promise.
When I wrote my Erotic Romance Scandinavian Scandal, both of my teenage daughters listened to Kesha— a lot. One song stuck in my mind, because it pretty much encapsulates the feel of the story and the hero's dilemma.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lSfNkDCx49Y
'Kiss N tell' was played an awful lot whilst I was driving the kids around and it always made me smile. In my mind's eye I could see Sven and Sylvia and plot lines came to me really easily. To this day hearing the song takes me right back to that time. I loved writing this story. That is not to say that I didn't have many arguments with Sven along the way. Being a typical alpha male, he sat on my shoulder the whole time and would not let up until he got 'into Sylvia's knickers' as he put it. Needless to say, he does, repeatedly J
I have always been fascinated by the private life behind the official mask of celebrities. Like Sylvia I don't read the papers and I couldn't imagine anything worse than being hounded by paparazzi and having every aspect of your life dissected by the media. And I always wondered what would happen if an A-list celebrity would meet an ordinary mum. Sylvia is a thirty five year old mum of three and when she literally falls into Sven Larsson's arms at an exclusive club, sparks fly. He is the original bad boy, haunted by scandal and kiss'n'tell stories, and not at all what he seems on the surface. Sylvia too wears a mask and they both carry emotional scars that run deep. The media circus, they find themselves embroiled in, is intense and hurtful, as old secrets and scandal threaten to tear them apart.
Can you see why the song fit?
_BLURB: Sven Larsson, international movie star, is out to repair his scandalous reputation. The last thing he needs is for an enticing bundle of curves to fall into his arms, making his libido sit up and growl Come to Papa. However, the instant sexual chemistry between them is hard to ignore…
Sylvia, young widowed mum of three, knows Sven is everything she doesn't need in a man. Can she risk giving in to temptation and enjoy the no strings sex on offer?
With the paparazzi breathing down their necks and both of them scarred emotionally by their past demons, will they manage to heal each other...
I leave you with a little excerpt of the morning after they met:
Sylvia's heart beat so fast the blood rushed to her ears. What had she done? Not only was she plastered all over the newspapers, she had spent the night with Sven Larsson for god's sake. The man had a reputation a mile long, none of it good, and the bloody cow had named her--named her for fuck's sake! God, she had to get home. With a bit of luck, this would turn out to be just a particularly bad dream, brought on by too much champagne. Surely she would wake up in a minute back in her own bed with Timmy jumping all over her as usual.
The disdain in the male voice washing over her robbed her of that hopeful illusion. His accent was thicker now. How the hell had she not noticed last night? She may not go to the movies a lot, but Larsson was a household name. His height alone should have made her realize it was him, and, damn it, hadn't it been her mission to find him?
Congrats girl, you more than succeeded. You fucking excelled!
"You're going to kill who exactly, lady? Do enlighten me; I would love some insight into that deceitful little head of yours."
"I'm deceitful? Says the man who dragged me back to his hotel suite to do goodness only know what. Why the hell did you not tell me who you were? I'd never have gone with you, had I known."
"Oh, cut the bull, lady. Of course you knew who I was, but I've got to give it to you. You should go into acting. You certainly had this mug fooled. But what could I expect from the likes of you?"
The scathing once over he gave her body hit Sylvia like a physical slap. How dare he?
"I do not know who you think I am, but if you think for one minute that I would choose to be associated with a man like you, then your ego is even more inflated than I first thought."
His sneering laughter just annoyed her more. He turned his back on her, and she swallowed, taking in the tight butt, perfectly showcased in faded denim. Unwanted heat coiled low in her belly. She remembered that he hadn't bothered with underwear, and the equally tight black vest top he was now wearing only emphasized his broad shoulders. The muscles in his biceps flexed as he raised another beer bottle and swallowed its contents in one long gulp. God, the man really was sex on legs, and she had to get home and away from him. The best sex in the world wasn't worth this, and, besides, she couldn't remember a thing about last night, damn it. You'd think she would at least remember something for god's sake. What was the point of all this public humiliation and the tongue lashing she knew would be waiting for her at home, if she couldn't even remember sleeping with the man?
"If you just call me a cab, I'll be out of your hair."
"I don't think so lady. Vera is working on a gag order right now, and, until I hear from her, you are staying right here. There will be no kiss-and-tell story, lady. So sorry to disappoint you, but your neat little plan backfired. No pound of flesh today, other than the filth already spread by your reporter friend."
That did it!
"Who the hell do you think you are to talk to me like that? I can assure you Evelyn Jones is no friend of mine, and why on earth would I want to broadcast a kiss-and-tell story about you? Haven't there been enough already! Perhaps you should try acting for a change, instead of forcing yourself on unconscious women."
The low growl her shouted words elicited from him made her jump. She backed away as he advanced towards her, a murderous expression on his face. Oh, hell, he looked ready to kill her.
Good going girl, see what your big mouth has gone and done now . . . .
Larsson's temper was as legendary as his womanizing, and, right now, it was all directed towards her. He backed her up against a wall, one hand braced on either side of her head, caging her in. His breathing was as heavy as her own, and, heaven help her if his glaring down on her wasn't the sexiest thing ever. Sylvia clamped her thighs together and bit into her bottom lip to stop herself from reacting. But there was nothing at all she could do about the moisture between her legs and her nipples straining against the confines of her bra. His suddenly heated gaze travelled over her, and his mouth hovered over hers. God, he smelled so good. The faint woodsy scent of his aftershave mixed with his own pure male arousal. She shut her eyes to at least cut out one of her senses which was leading her astray.
His growled whisper against the fevered skin of her neck made her moan, even as his words both appalled and aroused her.
"I have never taken a woman against her will, and you can't tell me that you aren't wet for me right now, lady!"
Oh God!
"I'm not!"
The rasp of morning stubble against her neck sent a renewed burst of moisture into her already wet folds, and his knowing chuckle made her groan as he kissed his way along her jaw line.
"Open your eyes, and look at me, if you want to convince me of that, but your body gives you away, my sweet. I can smell you want me."
Sylvia did force her eyes open then, only to lose herself in the depths of the ice blue gaze that held her captive.
"That's as may be, but it doesn't mean I have to act on it." And, with strength she didn't know she had, she pushed him away from her and ducked under his arms, only for one strong hand to clamp against her arm and yank her back into his hard frame. Damn, there wasn't an ounce of fat anywhere on that torso, and the bulge in his jeans left her in no doubt that he wanted her as badly as she did him.
If only he wasn't this big star and she was free to just let herself go for once, but she couldn't afford to, she just couldn't.
"Please, just let me go. I need to go home. You won't need any gag order, I won't say anything. Please, I'm sorry about the pictures, but the bitch pulled me over the hot coals, too. I never wanted any of this. And regardless of what it says in there, I do not work for Whisper."
Damn, she was not going to cry. She was stronger than this.
"You expect me to believe that?"
His tone was cynical, but his bruising grip on her arm lessened slightly. He used one thumb to wipe away the single tear that managed to escape down her cheek.
"Quit the waterworks, lady. It doesn't wash."
But he gentled his grip on her further, and Sylvia found herself pulled into his frame once again as the tears started in earnest. She clung to his chest, grateful for his strength.
Don't forget to leave a comment for your chance to win :-)
You can keep up with me on my blog http://thetardisscribbles.blogspot.com/
My website is here http://www.dorisoconnor.com/
Chat with me on twitter here https://twitter.com/#!/mamaD8
Scandinavian Scandal will be available through Noble Romance on 21st November and I'm giving one lucky commenter the chance to win a copy :)
Many authors listen to music when writing. Some have specific play lists depending on which scene they're tackling and what mood they're trying to create.
I am not one of those authors! If there is music in the background it's either children's telly, some obscure teenage channel or the dulcet tones of my fifteen year old practicing the keyboard and singing off key as though she was auditioning for the X-factor. Actually she is quite good, if I say so myself. I can't hold a note to save my life.
Lately my back ground also involves the snuffles and gurgles of our three month old. Actually when he does that not a lot of writing gets done, because he is far too cute a distraction. It's a bit of a dilemma, as I cannot for the life of me write a sex scene when he's awake. As my stories contain quite a few of those scenes, it causes a bit of a problem. In my current WIP the hero got so frustrated at having to wait they never made it inside—whoops!
*grin*
I know what you're thinking. Why is this mad woman blogging about music that made 'this' scene when she doesn't actually write to it? Ah, well, I haven't gone completely mad, I promise.
When I wrote my Erotic Romance Scandinavian Scandal, both of my teenage daughters listened to Kesha— a lot. One song stuck in my mind, because it pretty much encapsulates the feel of the story and the hero's dilemma.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lSfNkDCx49Y
'Kiss N tell' was played an awful lot whilst I was driving the kids around and it always made me smile. In my mind's eye I could see Sven and Sylvia and plot lines came to me really easily. To this day hearing the song takes me right back to that time. I loved writing this story. That is not to say that I didn't have many arguments with Sven along the way. Being a typical alpha male, he sat on my shoulder the whole time and would not let up until he got 'into Sylvia's knickers' as he put it. Needless to say, he does, repeatedly J
I have always been fascinated by the private life behind the official mask of celebrities. Like Sylvia I don't read the papers and I couldn't imagine anything worse than being hounded by paparazzi and having every aspect of your life dissected by the media. And I always wondered what would happen if an A-list celebrity would meet an ordinary mum. Sylvia is a thirty five year old mum of three and when she literally falls into Sven Larsson's arms at an exclusive club, sparks fly. He is the original bad boy, haunted by scandal and kiss'n'tell stories, and not at all what he seems on the surface. Sylvia too wears a mask and they both carry emotional scars that run deep. The media circus, they find themselves embroiled in, is intense and hurtful, as old secrets and scandal threaten to tear them apart.
Can you see why the song fit?
_BLURB: Sven Larsson, international movie star, is out to repair his scandalous reputation. The last thing he needs is for an enticing bundle of curves to fall into his arms, making his libido sit up and growl Come to Papa. However, the instant sexual chemistry between them is hard to ignore…Sylvia, young widowed mum of three, knows Sven is everything she doesn't need in a man. Can she risk giving in to temptation and enjoy the no strings sex on offer?
With the paparazzi breathing down their necks and both of them scarred emotionally by their past demons, will they manage to heal each other...
I leave you with a little excerpt of the morning after they met:
Sylvia's heart beat so fast the blood rushed to her ears. What had she done? Not only was she plastered all over the newspapers, she had spent the night with Sven Larsson for god's sake. The man had a reputation a mile long, none of it good, and the bloody cow had named her--named her for fuck's sake! God, she had to get home. With a bit of luck, this would turn out to be just a particularly bad dream, brought on by too much champagne. Surely she would wake up in a minute back in her own bed with Timmy jumping all over her as usual.
The disdain in the male voice washing over her robbed her of that hopeful illusion. His accent was thicker now. How the hell had she not noticed last night? She may not go to the movies a lot, but Larsson was a household name. His height alone should have made her realize it was him, and, damn it, hadn't it been her mission to find him?
Congrats girl, you more than succeeded. You fucking excelled!
"You're going to kill who exactly, lady? Do enlighten me; I would love some insight into that deceitful little head of yours."
"I'm deceitful? Says the man who dragged me back to his hotel suite to do goodness only know what. Why the hell did you not tell me who you were? I'd never have gone with you, had I known."
"Oh, cut the bull, lady. Of course you knew who I was, but I've got to give it to you. You should go into acting. You certainly had this mug fooled. But what could I expect from the likes of you?"
The scathing once over he gave her body hit Sylvia like a physical slap. How dare he?
"I do not know who you think I am, but if you think for one minute that I would choose to be associated with a man like you, then your ego is even more inflated than I first thought."
His sneering laughter just annoyed her more. He turned his back on her, and she swallowed, taking in the tight butt, perfectly showcased in faded denim. Unwanted heat coiled low in her belly. She remembered that he hadn't bothered with underwear, and the equally tight black vest top he was now wearing only emphasized his broad shoulders. The muscles in his biceps flexed as he raised another beer bottle and swallowed its contents in one long gulp. God, the man really was sex on legs, and she had to get home and away from him. The best sex in the world wasn't worth this, and, besides, she couldn't remember a thing about last night, damn it. You'd think she would at least remember something for god's sake. What was the point of all this public humiliation and the tongue lashing she knew would be waiting for her at home, if she couldn't even remember sleeping with the man?
"If you just call me a cab, I'll be out of your hair."
"I don't think so lady. Vera is working on a gag order right now, and, until I hear from her, you are staying right here. There will be no kiss-and-tell story, lady. So sorry to disappoint you, but your neat little plan backfired. No pound of flesh today, other than the filth already spread by your reporter friend."
That did it!
"Who the hell do you think you are to talk to me like that? I can assure you Evelyn Jones is no friend of mine, and why on earth would I want to broadcast a kiss-and-tell story about you? Haven't there been enough already! Perhaps you should try acting for a change, instead of forcing yourself on unconscious women."
The low growl her shouted words elicited from him made her jump. She backed away as he advanced towards her, a murderous expression on his face. Oh, hell, he looked ready to kill her.
Good going girl, see what your big mouth has gone and done now . . . .
Larsson's temper was as legendary as his womanizing, and, right now, it was all directed towards her. He backed her up against a wall, one hand braced on either side of her head, caging her in. His breathing was as heavy as her own, and, heaven help her if his glaring down on her wasn't the sexiest thing ever. Sylvia clamped her thighs together and bit into her bottom lip to stop herself from reacting. But there was nothing at all she could do about the moisture between her legs and her nipples straining against the confines of her bra. His suddenly heated gaze travelled over her, and his mouth hovered over hers. God, he smelled so good. The faint woodsy scent of his aftershave mixed with his own pure male arousal. She shut her eyes to at least cut out one of her senses which was leading her astray.
His growled whisper against the fevered skin of her neck made her moan, even as his words both appalled and aroused her.
"I have never taken a woman against her will, and you can't tell me that you aren't wet for me right now, lady!"
Oh God!
"I'm not!"
The rasp of morning stubble against her neck sent a renewed burst of moisture into her already wet folds, and his knowing chuckle made her groan as he kissed his way along her jaw line.
"Open your eyes, and look at me, if you want to convince me of that, but your body gives you away, my sweet. I can smell you want me."
Sylvia did force her eyes open then, only to lose herself in the depths of the ice blue gaze that held her captive.
"That's as may be, but it doesn't mean I have to act on it." And, with strength she didn't know she had, she pushed him away from her and ducked under his arms, only for one strong hand to clamp against her arm and yank her back into his hard frame. Damn, there wasn't an ounce of fat anywhere on that torso, and the bulge in his jeans left her in no doubt that he wanted her as badly as she did him.
If only he wasn't this big star and she was free to just let herself go for once, but she couldn't afford to, she just couldn't.
"Please, just let me go. I need to go home. You won't need any gag order, I won't say anything. Please, I'm sorry about the pictures, but the bitch pulled me over the hot coals, too. I never wanted any of this. And regardless of what it says in there, I do not work for Whisper."
Damn, she was not going to cry. She was stronger than this.
"You expect me to believe that?"
His tone was cynical, but his bruising grip on her arm lessened slightly. He used one thumb to wipe away the single tear that managed to escape down her cheek.
"Quit the waterworks, lady. It doesn't wash."
But he gentled his grip on her further, and Sylvia found herself pulled into his frame once again as the tears started in earnest. She clung to his chest, grateful for his strength.
Don't forget to leave a comment for your chance to win :-)
You can keep up with me on my blog http://thetardisscribbles.blogspot.com/
My website is here http://www.dorisoconnor.com/
Chat with me on twitter here https://twitter.com/#!/mamaD8
Scandinavian Scandal will be available through Noble Romance on 21st November and I'm giving one lucky commenter the chance to win a copy :)
November 16, 2011
Guest Post-Virgins and Cougars and Why We Love them
_By Jan Irving
When I'm shopping for a book, sometimes a certain scenario that I enjoy will catch my eye even if I haven't read the author previously. I enjoy captive/captor romances, virgin stories where he's the virgin or she is, and cougar stories where an older woman has to resist the attentions of a hot, younger man.
What is the appeal of a cougar romance? I'm going to analyze why I like to read and write them—to date all my m/f romances are cougars, so I obviously like them!
The first thing is that as we get older, we can begin to feel like we've missed out on love. I was picking up ice cream from a specialty store I frequent when I mused about it to the manager there—my little town all knows I write romance so it's often a topic of conversation—the manager of the ice cream store said she thinks older women/younger men work because all people want love. So a heroine may have lived focused on a certain goal in her life like in my m/m/f A Pastry Princess where Serafina is focused on building up her bakery business. She's forced to take on more than pastry when her queen gives her two young male slaves and she's ordered to continue her line.
In His Landlady, my BDSM m/f romance for the Subspace collection, Diana Moore has been busy defining herself outside her wealthy family. She owns a strip mall that she is making into a success and she has inherited a young boy, the orphan son of her best friend. So she's a busy single mother. She dates, but her dates are strictly on her terms, with sophisticated men. What happens when she comes face to face with her bold new tenant, a young martial arts instructor who coaxes her to try out a touch of submission?
The second thing I find appealing about them is the idea of an attentive lover. Often the older women in stories have been focused on their goals and they are due for some TLC. Plus, on a biological level, that younger man is able to keep up with the sex drive of his older lady!
A cougar romance is having your cake and eating it too, and bonus, no calories—unlike my favorite amaretto sorbetto.
_Here is an excerpt from His Landlady:
Diana Moore hesitated outside the kickboxing studio, caught by the sleek body of a young male kickboxer, his leg straight up in a martial arts kick.
Although every muscle was warrior defined, it was the expression on his face that fixed her attention. He was gazing into the distance, a half smile touching his lips, a look of transcendent pleasure that didn't make her think of the martial arts…
"Perv," she muttered to herself. She had better things to do than stand here lusting over a beautiful man on a poster who was probably too airbrushed to be true. She adjusted her grip on her attaché case and almost walked into another young man, this one short and covered with black and red tattoos.
"You here for class?" he demanded. "Come back in an hour." His street accent made the word 'hour' a match for 'sour.'
Di gulped and stopped herself from taking a step back. The stranger had an aggressive energy that she could feel like a force field.
"No," she said. "I'm strictly a yoga person."
The man stared at her, unblinking, and Di felt as if she'd told a proud Doberman owner that she was the golden retriever type.
"We don't do yoga here," he said, crossing his arms.
"No, I know that…" She was flustered and it was stupid. But the studio made her uncomfortable. It so wasn't her thing. "I'm the landlady of this strip mall. I'm here with some paperwork for the owner."
"Huh." He didn't look impressed.
"Nath, behave!" A mellow voice interrupted. There was a thread of laughter in it that stroked down Di's spine. "Hello, landlady. I've been waiting to meet you."
A tanned hand was held out and when she automatically took it, calluses brushed against her palm. The grip was strong, confident, and didn't crush her fingers; this was a man with no need to prove anything.
"Uh." He was also the man from the poster. Except he was stripped down to black shorts and his dark hair was sweaty against his forehead. Almond shaped amber-brown eyes regarded her steadily, hinting at a slight Asian heritage while his unshaven jaw and shaggy brown hair were sexy mongrel. "I'm Diana Moore," she said.
"My landlady is a Roman goddess, Diana the huntress," he said and although those dark eyes didn't move down to her full breasts, Diana felt as if they had. Her nipples peaked through her thin blue silk tunic. "Sloan Kent—owner and operator of Soul Kickin'."
"Soul Kickin'," she repeated, seeing with relief that the other man, Nath, had disappeared into the studio. He'd been a bit intense for her to handle before she'd had her morning espresso. "So you decided on a name."
A smile tilted his perfect lips. If he'd caught her attention in two dimension, it was nothing to the real man. The real young man, she reminded herself. He looked to be in his early twenties and she definitely was not, at thirty-five.
"Yeah, I know I kept you waiting. But waiting can be good." His brows rose as an expression that was part teasing and part earnest lit his eyes. "You gotta live in the present moment. Grab every second."
"Ah…right." Now she wasn't imagining he was looking at her. She ducked her head, knowing with her curves she didn't look as good as he did in shorts. More earth goddess than sports queen. "I brought the paper work over."
Sloan nodded. "Come on in," he invited, opening the glass door of his studio for her. She walked into what had previously been just bare brick walls, scarred from a previous incarnation as a sports retailer. The floors were half way through a polish job, stripped down to sawdust and bleached maple so the scent of wood was strong and tangy.
"Nath has been doing the floors," Sloan said, as if he'd noticed her interest.
"They were a mess," she admitted. In fact, she hadn't been able to lease the space for months. She was glad she had finally managed it, despite her mild discomfort with the type of business that had taken the storefront.
When her father had given her the strip mall, she'd known he'd expected her to fail but Diana had put a lot of extra time into it, determined to make it the basis for a stable home for herself and Jeff.
"Nath's gone for lunch," Sloan said, picking up a towel and wiping his face as Diana took in the metal rails hanging across the ceiling and the heavy black bags suspended from them.
"I can't imagine hitting something for fun," she said.
"It's liberating," Sloan said. "It can give you confidence that spills into the rest of your life."
She grazed a hand down one bag. "I'm not comfortable with aggression."
Sloan's expression was serene as he shrugged and she got the feeling that while he didn't agree with her, he was comfortable enough with himself he didn't need to argue about it. His confidence was beginning to get to her. He was so young…he shouldn't be so self-assured. She cleared her throat and opened her attaché case, sitting it on a bit of finished flooring since the room was bare of anything else.
Suddenly a pillow was thrust at her face and she froze before looking into intimidating dark eyes under straight, heavy brows. She took the lotus shaped pillow, familiar to her from her yoga practice.
"Thank you," she said.
"You'll need help sitting down in those sky scraper shoes," Sloan said, cocking his head as his gaze ran down Diana's long legs. He shocked her by kneeling at her feet and placing one warm, callused hand around her left ankle, running a finger under the rim of her ankle bracelet. His touch bypassed politeness and zapped straight to her sex, making Diana gasp.
"Hey, I just want to take your shoes off," Sloan said, stroking the slope of her foot.
"Oh, yeah, but I can—"
"Allow me."
Flustered, Diana watched Sloan as he slowly unbuckled each of the three black straps on her sandal. When he gently pulled her foot free, he massaged the sole, making Diana give an involuntary moan, but damn, that felt good.
"Probably these shoes aren't the best thing for your feet but they look very hot on you," Sloan said. He put down the liberated foot and reached for the other and dazed, Diana allowed it, her hands on his bare shoulders for balance now, making direct contact with hot, sweaty skin.
Sloan took his time with the second sandal, caressing the underside of her foot and eliciting another moan. Her feet seemed to be directly wired into her pussy, so he might as well have been touching her intimately.
When he looked up at her, she realized he knew exactly what he was doing, the effect it was having on her.
"Sit down, Diana," he ordered gruffly.
Bemused, Diana sat down, smoothing her short blue skirt so she didn't flash him.
Sloan was within kissing distance as she passed him the paperwork she'd brought over. She scolded herself for noticing, but her feet—and other parts—were still tingling from the unexpected foot massage.
He reached into a pocket in his shorts and pulled out a pair of glasses, slipping them on. They were a dramatic contrast to his tangled hair and hard, glistening body. He looked up through the lenses, his eyes sober now, back to business.
"I want to put the lobby there, by the door, along with a console for handling payments from clients," he said, gesturing toward the front of the empty studio.
"That shouldn't be a problem," Diana said. "You've done a lot of amazing renovations already."
"Motivation is not a problem for me when I see what I want." He looked up at Diana. "Are you the same, Diana?"
She'd been chewing on her pen, something she'd broken the habit of doing as a college student. "I am definitely motivated to see this strip mall do the best it can," she said.
"I think everything here is in order, but I'll want some time to look it over before I send it back to you," Sloan said, putting the paperwork aside and removing his glasses.
"Of course," Diana said. She looked at her bare feet and her shoes, feeling awkward. The charged interlude was over and she had to put her shoes back on and retreat.
"Now that that's done with…" Sloan's voice was gravely. "You liked it when I touched you."
Shocked again by Sloan's confidence, Diana could only stare at him.
"It wasn't an accident, where I touched you," Sloan went on. "I used to give reflexology massage. I knew how to arouse you."
She shook her head. "I don't understand."
"Yes, you do. Take a moment, just breathe…" Now he reached out and stroked her arm as if he felt the sudden spike of her anxiety. But this couldn't be happening. She'd seen him, she'd wanted him, but he was a fantasy. This couldn't be happening…
"Breathe…" He was closer, sharing her breath. She couldn't stop studying his face, those slightly exotic earnest eyes, holding her captive. He cupped her cheek. "You made quite an impression on me."
She laughed when she remembered seeing his poster and the look of bliss on his face—she'd pictured him making love. Oh, yeah, he'd also made an impression on her.
"I should go."
"Don't."
"This isn't me."
"I think it's very much you. Ground zero." He lifted her onto his lap, both her legs on either side of him, her body flush against his so she could feel the blunt shape of his erection through his tissue thin shorts.
Panting, she began to tremble. His hand felt hot against the silk of her skirt as he placed it on her ass.
"Easy," he said, still with that assured manner. This was crazy. Why was she allowing him to do these things? She was always so guarded with men, peeking at them from behind her walls. "You have to do something, Diana," Sloan went on in that same hoarse, silky voice.
She blinked and then frowned. "What?"
"Ask me to please you," he said.
"I…" How could she? She'd just met the man. Now she was sitting on him and he was touching her. One hand moved down her body and under her skirt, lifting it as he held her eyes. His fingers brushed against her underwear, found her hot for him, a stranger.
***
Blurb for His Landlady:
"I know I should have waited, bided my time like a good boy but...I am not a good boy," seductive younger man Sloan Kent tells Diana Moore the first time they meet, when the martial arts instructor lures her into an act of unexpected submission.
Diana Moore is edgy around new tenant Sloan Kent, owner of a kick boxing school. From the moment she glimpses a martial arts poster of the lean, beautiful man, she wants him, but she can't see a focused warrior athlete and an earth mother like her having much in common.
Sloan's calm Zen facade lulls Diana so that she submits to him the first time they are alone together. Diana has never had such an intense experience, but he's too young to be her master, isn't he?
Find His Landlady in the Subspace collection from Total E Bound here: http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1434
I hope readers will enjoy His Landlady and also my upcoming m/f romance Bird Bones, coming out at the end of February, which is an angsty forbidden romance between an older woman and younger man.
You can find my website here: http://janirvingwrites.com/
Jan Irving has worked in all kinds of creative fields, from painting silk to making porcelain ceramics, to interior design, but writing was always her passion.
She feels you can't fully understand characters until you follow their journey through a story world. Many kinds of worlds interest her, fantasy, historical, science fiction and suspense—but all have one thing in common, people finding a way to live together—in the most emotional and erotic fashion possible, of course!
When I'm shopping for a book, sometimes a certain scenario that I enjoy will catch my eye even if I haven't read the author previously. I enjoy captive/captor romances, virgin stories where he's the virgin or she is, and cougar stories where an older woman has to resist the attentions of a hot, younger man.
What is the appeal of a cougar romance? I'm going to analyze why I like to read and write them—to date all my m/f romances are cougars, so I obviously like them!
The first thing is that as we get older, we can begin to feel like we've missed out on love. I was picking up ice cream from a specialty store I frequent when I mused about it to the manager there—my little town all knows I write romance so it's often a topic of conversation—the manager of the ice cream store said she thinks older women/younger men work because all people want love. So a heroine may have lived focused on a certain goal in her life like in my m/m/f A Pastry Princess where Serafina is focused on building up her bakery business. She's forced to take on more than pastry when her queen gives her two young male slaves and she's ordered to continue her line.
In His Landlady, my BDSM m/f romance for the Subspace collection, Diana Moore has been busy defining herself outside her wealthy family. She owns a strip mall that she is making into a success and she has inherited a young boy, the orphan son of her best friend. So she's a busy single mother. She dates, but her dates are strictly on her terms, with sophisticated men. What happens when she comes face to face with her bold new tenant, a young martial arts instructor who coaxes her to try out a touch of submission?
The second thing I find appealing about them is the idea of an attentive lover. Often the older women in stories have been focused on their goals and they are due for some TLC. Plus, on a biological level, that younger man is able to keep up with the sex drive of his older lady!
A cougar romance is having your cake and eating it too, and bonus, no calories—unlike my favorite amaretto sorbetto.
_Here is an excerpt from His Landlady:Diana Moore hesitated outside the kickboxing studio, caught by the sleek body of a young male kickboxer, his leg straight up in a martial arts kick.
Although every muscle was warrior defined, it was the expression on his face that fixed her attention. He was gazing into the distance, a half smile touching his lips, a look of transcendent pleasure that didn't make her think of the martial arts…
"Perv," she muttered to herself. She had better things to do than stand here lusting over a beautiful man on a poster who was probably too airbrushed to be true. She adjusted her grip on her attaché case and almost walked into another young man, this one short and covered with black and red tattoos.
"You here for class?" he demanded. "Come back in an hour." His street accent made the word 'hour' a match for 'sour.'
Di gulped and stopped herself from taking a step back. The stranger had an aggressive energy that she could feel like a force field.
"No," she said. "I'm strictly a yoga person."
The man stared at her, unblinking, and Di felt as if she'd told a proud Doberman owner that she was the golden retriever type.
"We don't do yoga here," he said, crossing his arms.
"No, I know that…" She was flustered and it was stupid. But the studio made her uncomfortable. It so wasn't her thing. "I'm the landlady of this strip mall. I'm here with some paperwork for the owner."
"Huh." He didn't look impressed.
"Nath, behave!" A mellow voice interrupted. There was a thread of laughter in it that stroked down Di's spine. "Hello, landlady. I've been waiting to meet you."
A tanned hand was held out and when she automatically took it, calluses brushed against her palm. The grip was strong, confident, and didn't crush her fingers; this was a man with no need to prove anything.
"Uh." He was also the man from the poster. Except he was stripped down to black shorts and his dark hair was sweaty against his forehead. Almond shaped amber-brown eyes regarded her steadily, hinting at a slight Asian heritage while his unshaven jaw and shaggy brown hair were sexy mongrel. "I'm Diana Moore," she said.
"My landlady is a Roman goddess, Diana the huntress," he said and although those dark eyes didn't move down to her full breasts, Diana felt as if they had. Her nipples peaked through her thin blue silk tunic. "Sloan Kent—owner and operator of Soul Kickin'."
"Soul Kickin'," she repeated, seeing with relief that the other man, Nath, had disappeared into the studio. He'd been a bit intense for her to handle before she'd had her morning espresso. "So you decided on a name."
A smile tilted his perfect lips. If he'd caught her attention in two dimension, it was nothing to the real man. The real young man, she reminded herself. He looked to be in his early twenties and she definitely was not, at thirty-five.
"Yeah, I know I kept you waiting. But waiting can be good." His brows rose as an expression that was part teasing and part earnest lit his eyes. "You gotta live in the present moment. Grab every second."
"Ah…right." Now she wasn't imagining he was looking at her. She ducked her head, knowing with her curves she didn't look as good as he did in shorts. More earth goddess than sports queen. "I brought the paper work over."
Sloan nodded. "Come on in," he invited, opening the glass door of his studio for her. She walked into what had previously been just bare brick walls, scarred from a previous incarnation as a sports retailer. The floors were half way through a polish job, stripped down to sawdust and bleached maple so the scent of wood was strong and tangy.
"Nath has been doing the floors," Sloan said, as if he'd noticed her interest.
"They were a mess," she admitted. In fact, she hadn't been able to lease the space for months. She was glad she had finally managed it, despite her mild discomfort with the type of business that had taken the storefront.
When her father had given her the strip mall, she'd known he'd expected her to fail but Diana had put a lot of extra time into it, determined to make it the basis for a stable home for herself and Jeff.
"Nath's gone for lunch," Sloan said, picking up a towel and wiping his face as Diana took in the metal rails hanging across the ceiling and the heavy black bags suspended from them.
"I can't imagine hitting something for fun," she said.
"It's liberating," Sloan said. "It can give you confidence that spills into the rest of your life."
She grazed a hand down one bag. "I'm not comfortable with aggression."
Sloan's expression was serene as he shrugged and she got the feeling that while he didn't agree with her, he was comfortable enough with himself he didn't need to argue about it. His confidence was beginning to get to her. He was so young…he shouldn't be so self-assured. She cleared her throat and opened her attaché case, sitting it on a bit of finished flooring since the room was bare of anything else.
Suddenly a pillow was thrust at her face and she froze before looking into intimidating dark eyes under straight, heavy brows. She took the lotus shaped pillow, familiar to her from her yoga practice.
"Thank you," she said.
"You'll need help sitting down in those sky scraper shoes," Sloan said, cocking his head as his gaze ran down Diana's long legs. He shocked her by kneeling at her feet and placing one warm, callused hand around her left ankle, running a finger under the rim of her ankle bracelet. His touch bypassed politeness and zapped straight to her sex, making Diana gasp.
"Hey, I just want to take your shoes off," Sloan said, stroking the slope of her foot.
"Oh, yeah, but I can—"
"Allow me."
Flustered, Diana watched Sloan as he slowly unbuckled each of the three black straps on her sandal. When he gently pulled her foot free, he massaged the sole, making Diana give an involuntary moan, but damn, that felt good.
"Probably these shoes aren't the best thing for your feet but they look very hot on you," Sloan said. He put down the liberated foot and reached for the other and dazed, Diana allowed it, her hands on his bare shoulders for balance now, making direct contact with hot, sweaty skin.
Sloan took his time with the second sandal, caressing the underside of her foot and eliciting another moan. Her feet seemed to be directly wired into her pussy, so he might as well have been touching her intimately.
When he looked up at her, she realized he knew exactly what he was doing, the effect it was having on her.
"Sit down, Diana," he ordered gruffly.
Bemused, Diana sat down, smoothing her short blue skirt so she didn't flash him.
Sloan was within kissing distance as she passed him the paperwork she'd brought over. She scolded herself for noticing, but her feet—and other parts—were still tingling from the unexpected foot massage.
He reached into a pocket in his shorts and pulled out a pair of glasses, slipping them on. They were a dramatic contrast to his tangled hair and hard, glistening body. He looked up through the lenses, his eyes sober now, back to business.
"I want to put the lobby there, by the door, along with a console for handling payments from clients," he said, gesturing toward the front of the empty studio.
"That shouldn't be a problem," Diana said. "You've done a lot of amazing renovations already."
"Motivation is not a problem for me when I see what I want." He looked up at Diana. "Are you the same, Diana?"
She'd been chewing on her pen, something she'd broken the habit of doing as a college student. "I am definitely motivated to see this strip mall do the best it can," she said.
"I think everything here is in order, but I'll want some time to look it over before I send it back to you," Sloan said, putting the paperwork aside and removing his glasses.
"Of course," Diana said. She looked at her bare feet and her shoes, feeling awkward. The charged interlude was over and she had to put her shoes back on and retreat.
"Now that that's done with…" Sloan's voice was gravely. "You liked it when I touched you."
Shocked again by Sloan's confidence, Diana could only stare at him.
"It wasn't an accident, where I touched you," Sloan went on. "I used to give reflexology massage. I knew how to arouse you."
She shook her head. "I don't understand."
"Yes, you do. Take a moment, just breathe…" Now he reached out and stroked her arm as if he felt the sudden spike of her anxiety. But this couldn't be happening. She'd seen him, she'd wanted him, but he was a fantasy. This couldn't be happening…
"Breathe…" He was closer, sharing her breath. She couldn't stop studying his face, those slightly exotic earnest eyes, holding her captive. He cupped her cheek. "You made quite an impression on me."
She laughed when she remembered seeing his poster and the look of bliss on his face—she'd pictured him making love. Oh, yeah, he'd also made an impression on her.
"I should go."
"Don't."
"This isn't me."
"I think it's very much you. Ground zero." He lifted her onto his lap, both her legs on either side of him, her body flush against his so she could feel the blunt shape of his erection through his tissue thin shorts.
Panting, she began to tremble. His hand felt hot against the silk of her skirt as he placed it on her ass.
"Easy," he said, still with that assured manner. This was crazy. Why was she allowing him to do these things? She was always so guarded with men, peeking at them from behind her walls. "You have to do something, Diana," Sloan went on in that same hoarse, silky voice.
She blinked and then frowned. "What?"
"Ask me to please you," he said.
"I…" How could she? She'd just met the man. Now she was sitting on him and he was touching her. One hand moved down her body and under her skirt, lifting it as he held her eyes. His fingers brushed against her underwear, found her hot for him, a stranger.
***
Blurb for His Landlady:
"I know I should have waited, bided my time like a good boy but...I am not a good boy," seductive younger man Sloan Kent tells Diana Moore the first time they meet, when the martial arts instructor lures her into an act of unexpected submission.
Diana Moore is edgy around new tenant Sloan Kent, owner of a kick boxing school. From the moment she glimpses a martial arts poster of the lean, beautiful man, she wants him, but she can't see a focused warrior athlete and an earth mother like her having much in common.
Sloan's calm Zen facade lulls Diana so that she submits to him the first time they are alone together. Diana has never had such an intense experience, but he's too young to be her master, isn't he?
Find His Landlady in the Subspace collection from Total E Bound here: http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1434
I hope readers will enjoy His Landlady and also my upcoming m/f romance Bird Bones, coming out at the end of February, which is an angsty forbidden romance between an older woman and younger man.
You can find my website here: http://janirvingwrites.com/
Jan Irving has worked in all kinds of creative fields, from painting silk to making porcelain ceramics, to interior design, but writing was always her passion.
She feels you can't fully understand characters until you follow their journey through a story world. Many kinds of worlds interest her, fantasy, historical, science fiction and suspense—but all have one thing in common, people finding a way to live together—in the most emotional and erotic fashion possible, of course!
November 14, 2011
Sneak Peak-DEADLY CAPTIVE: Collateral Damage
The contract is now inked. It's official. Noble Romance Publishing will publish DEADLY CAPTIVE: Collateral Damage. I've so excited and nervous! I can't wait to share the cover with you and I'm looking into all kinds of ways to celebrate the release--which, by the way, barring natural disaster is:
December 12th 2011
So soon! I almost can't wait! Well, actually, I can't wait! That's why I decided I'm going to give you a few sneak peaks, starting today!
So here you go!
May also contain violence and events that some readers may find objectionable. 
_The comfort, the smooth ride, made me nervous. I'd stopped fighting and so had the boy. But why?
"I want to see him."
Vince patted my head. "You will see him. Soon."
Sit. Good dog. The guy was pissing me off. I wrenched away from him, still tangled in the blanket, and rolled to my side. "I will see him. Now."
One of the men snorted.
I couldn't say what came over me, but the atmosphere inside the van didn't instill a need for caution. All the knives were put away. The men had relaxed. It took an effort to be afraid.
Until Vince's eyes narrowed.
He reached down, fisted his hand in the blanket, and jerked me up to my knees. His face right in mine he snapped. "Behave."
I held my breath and waited, sure he'd slap me. Punch me. Something. For some sick reason, I craved the violence. The boy deserved more than my one, fumbled attempt. Maybe I could help him by staying alive. But I couldn't help him by doing nothing.
_The blanket held my arms at my sides and my legs together. So I cracked my forehead into Vince's nose.
He grunted. Then dropped me. Watched me worm free of the blanket as he touched the blood that trickled from his nostril to his upper lip. He licked his fingers clean.
I lunged. An arm barred across my bare belly. A forearm across my throat cut off my screams.
Vince hissed in my ear. "You have my attention."
December 12th 2011
So soon! I almost can't wait! Well, actually, I can't wait! That's why I decided I'm going to give you a few sneak peaks, starting today!
So here you go!
May also contain violence and events that some readers may find objectionable. _The comfort, the smooth ride, made me nervous. I'd stopped fighting and so had the boy. But why?"I want to see him."
Vince patted my head. "You will see him. Soon."
Sit. Good dog. The guy was pissing me off. I wrenched away from him, still tangled in the blanket, and rolled to my side. "I will see him. Now."
One of the men snorted.
I couldn't say what came over me, but the atmosphere inside the van didn't instill a need for caution. All the knives were put away. The men had relaxed. It took an effort to be afraid.
Until Vince's eyes narrowed.
He reached down, fisted his hand in the blanket, and jerked me up to my knees. His face right in mine he snapped. "Behave."
I held my breath and waited, sure he'd slap me. Punch me. Something. For some sick reason, I craved the violence. The boy deserved more than my one, fumbled attempt. Maybe I could help him by staying alive. But I couldn't help him by doing nothing.
_The blanket held my arms at my sides and my legs together. So I cracked my forehead into Vince's nose.
He grunted. Then dropped me. Watched me worm free of the blanket as he touched the blood that trickled from his nostril to his upper lip. He licked his fingers clean.
I lunged. An arm barred across my bare belly. A forearm across my throat cut off my screams.
Vince hissed in my ear. "You have my attention."
November 8, 2011
I'm No Angel Interview with Cari Silverwood
I'm fussy about books. Can't help it. Time is short, work takes over, blah blah blah. But I had the privilege of read Cari Silverwood's Iron Dominance in it's early stages and literally fell in love with several of the characters. I don't read steam punk. It's not my 'thing'. But Ms. Silverwood showed me that it could be. With her delicious costumes and....my god the TOYS! Then add to it some get-down-on-your-knees-and-beg worthy Doms...yeah. Steam punk still isn't my thing. Unless she writes it.Today, she's taken the time to do a quick interview and answer my off the wall questions in a way that will show you why you need her books on your shelves.
Without any more of my gushing (yes, must gush, need more Danyko and I'm tired of waiting!) I give you Cari Silverwood!
First crazy question: What's your favourite thing to watch on TV while being intimate?
If I said Gone With The Wind or something romantic I'd be lying. We're talking 'intimate' intimate here, aren't we? A porn video. I mean who can follow a plot when you're making love? Though after a while even a porn video gets lost in the background hum, assuming you're doing it right.
All right, imagine a very ordinary situation and find a way to make it romantic.
Ordinary? As in setting, I guess you mean. Since not everyone has a beach handy like our lovely Australian ones, how about a supermarket? The smallish local one and you know that Steve the guy who packs the shelves and looks after the cash register has the hots for you.
The gourmet olive oil in that fancy long bottle is way up on the top shelf.
I reach for it, feeling the stretch in my calves and going up on the tips of my worn-out runners. Just as my fingers close around the bottle of glistening yellow oil -- virgin olive oil -- Steve steps up behind me and runs his arm about my waist. I know it's him as there's no one else in the store this late at night. Plus I recognize his cologne and if it's not him, my my, I don't care anyway. That hot man's hand splaying across my belly feels damn good. He slides one finger under the waistband of my little skirt.
"You sure that's your oil, Jennie? Last I heard you weren't a virgin no more." Then he kisses the side of my neck, just below my ear, blowing warmth inside my ear and fanning strands of hair across my cheek. My lips part. I breath out, shuddering a little.
"Steve, what in hell are you --"
"Shhh." He tugs me in tight against him. That hardness at my buttocks isn't some new accessory at the front of his jeans. I can't help nudging back into him, can't help the way my nipples scrunch up and poke into my flimsy string strap top. Then he bites, like he means to draw blood maybe, on the long muscle of my neck and I groan.
"Steve, this isn't the place," I whisper. Why I whispered I had no idea. No customers at all. Me and him, alone, so long as no one's watching on the surveillance camera.
If I thought he was planning to smooch only, now I found out otherwise.
He gripped the wrist of my hand, the one still holding the oil bottle and used gentle force, making me lower the bottle. I let him. My legs quivered when the top of the bottle touched the hem of my skirt.
"You are putting this under your skirt, between your legs. If I find out you're wet, this bottle is sliding up inside you. The whole cold, hard length of it."
My ribs heaved from my panting. The underside of my breasts brushed his rigid arm.
The way his tongue tip traced inside my ear while he talked dirty, the way he trapped me in his arms. I was confused by the myriad sensations, and so hot, so wanting. I squirmed, imagining how this would feel.
"Then in and out, and in and out, until I make you come. After that, maybe I'll get you to kneel and open your mouth so I can fuck it, or maybe I'll just take you from behind."
I whimper. I was wet, how could I not be? My panties were damp and his words had made me even wetter.
… Ahem. Let's leave Steve and Jennie to their store delivery.
Mmm...I like! Now...If you found a sexy man/woman tied up on your bed, what would you do with him/her?
Hmmm. Not sure. Could be interesting to experiment I guess. I've heard all about pervertibles so maybe now I can experiment with that kitchen spatula, the hairbrush, silk scarves, ice cubes, oooh and the clothes pegs. Yes!
Now...What do you consider the most erotic fruit?
Strawberries. I've seen so many pictures of lips with strawberries sliding into them.
Name a historical figure you admire. Explain why.
The White Mouse. The Australian super-spy, Nancy Wake, in World War Two. Very brave woman.
What mythical creature would you want to be? A mermaid -- I love swimming!
Beer, wine, or spirits? Wine. Champagne. But beer is nice too…Guinness, lager. And scotch on the rocks -- yummy. Can you tell I'm giving short answers because I wrote too much above?
If you had to choose between an angel and a vampire, which would you choose? Why?
Angel. It's always sexy to corrupt the innocent.
Most people would say uniforms are sexy. Do you agree? Which is the sexiest in your opinion? They can be sexy on the right people. Both men and women. I don't really have a favorite as I tend to judge on what's inside them a lot.
What's your favourite action movie? If you don't have a favourite, name one you didn't hate.
The Fifth Element. Scifi action but so intense. Bruce Willis is great and so is the plot, the setting, in fact it's one of my all-time favorites. I even loved that opera singer and the bad guy was awesome.
Name your favourite cookie. No, seriously, tell us what it is and give it a new name.
Muffins! Sorry. I love choc chip muffins more than cookies. The muffigalacious chomp? LOL
Who's your favourite cartoon character? What do you like about them? The robot from Futurama. He is so nasty and hilarious at the same time. Bite my shiny metal ass.
What is the name of the last book you wanted to use as kindling? No. Mustn't say. It was probably an erotic book and saying would be rude. Besides, I forgot the title, it was that bad.
What songs would you choose for the soundtrack of your life? Right now I'm in love with Muse and Warren Zevon so they'll do. Love em all. Nightwish too actually. Not sure they describe my life exactly though. Something like a jingle might be better off for that. Or a five year old playing a harmonica really really badly.
Of all your characters, which one do you think would be best in a crisis? I'm ashamed to say all those strong ladies I wrote tend to be flawed and I'd rather trust one of the men. Sten, my latest in Lust Plague would be the nicest guy to trust even if he's rather trigger happy with dragging his women onto the bed…the roof…and into the forest so he can tie them to trees. Hmm. Of the women, strangely enough, his partner, Kaysana, would be the strongest and most reliable in a crisis.
You so want more of this. So, since I like giving my readers what you want, I'll hook you up! ;) Swing by here: http://www.carisilverwood.net/ for another taste. Or better yet check this out:
Click on the cover if you need a hot read. Trust me. You want to click! And then you can join my campaign for Danyko's book! It must be written!
Without any more of my gushing (yes, must gush, need more Danyko and I'm tired of waiting!) I give you Cari Silverwood!
First crazy question: What's your favourite thing to watch on TV while being intimate?
If I said Gone With The Wind or something romantic I'd be lying. We're talking 'intimate' intimate here, aren't we? A porn video. I mean who can follow a plot when you're making love? Though after a while even a porn video gets lost in the background hum, assuming you're doing it right.
All right, imagine a very ordinary situation and find a way to make it romantic.
Ordinary? As in setting, I guess you mean. Since not everyone has a beach handy like our lovely Australian ones, how about a supermarket? The smallish local one and you know that Steve the guy who packs the shelves and looks after the cash register has the hots for you.
The gourmet olive oil in that fancy long bottle is way up on the top shelf.
I reach for it, feeling the stretch in my calves and going up on the tips of my worn-out runners. Just as my fingers close around the bottle of glistening yellow oil -- virgin olive oil -- Steve steps up behind me and runs his arm about my waist. I know it's him as there's no one else in the store this late at night. Plus I recognize his cologne and if it's not him, my my, I don't care anyway. That hot man's hand splaying across my belly feels damn good. He slides one finger under the waistband of my little skirt.
"You sure that's your oil, Jennie? Last I heard you weren't a virgin no more." Then he kisses the side of my neck, just below my ear, blowing warmth inside my ear and fanning strands of hair across my cheek. My lips part. I breath out, shuddering a little.
"Steve, what in hell are you --"
"Shhh." He tugs me in tight against him. That hardness at my buttocks isn't some new accessory at the front of his jeans. I can't help nudging back into him, can't help the way my nipples scrunch up and poke into my flimsy string strap top. Then he bites, like he means to draw blood maybe, on the long muscle of my neck and I groan.
"Steve, this isn't the place," I whisper. Why I whispered I had no idea. No customers at all. Me and him, alone, so long as no one's watching on the surveillance camera.
If I thought he was planning to smooch only, now I found out otherwise.
He gripped the wrist of my hand, the one still holding the oil bottle and used gentle force, making me lower the bottle. I let him. My legs quivered when the top of the bottle touched the hem of my skirt.
"You are putting this under your skirt, between your legs. If I find out you're wet, this bottle is sliding up inside you. The whole cold, hard length of it."
My ribs heaved from my panting. The underside of my breasts brushed his rigid arm.
The way his tongue tip traced inside my ear while he talked dirty, the way he trapped me in his arms. I was confused by the myriad sensations, and so hot, so wanting. I squirmed, imagining how this would feel.
"Then in and out, and in and out, until I make you come. After that, maybe I'll get you to kneel and open your mouth so I can fuck it, or maybe I'll just take you from behind."
I whimper. I was wet, how could I not be? My panties were damp and his words had made me even wetter.
… Ahem. Let's leave Steve and Jennie to their store delivery.
Mmm...I like! Now...If you found a sexy man/woman tied up on your bed, what would you do with him/her?
Hmmm. Not sure. Could be interesting to experiment I guess. I've heard all about pervertibles so maybe now I can experiment with that kitchen spatula, the hairbrush, silk scarves, ice cubes, oooh and the clothes pegs. Yes!
Now...What do you consider the most erotic fruit?
Strawberries. I've seen so many pictures of lips with strawberries sliding into them.
Name a historical figure you admire. Explain why.
The White Mouse. The Australian super-spy, Nancy Wake, in World War Two. Very brave woman.
What mythical creature would you want to be? A mermaid -- I love swimming!
Beer, wine, or spirits? Wine. Champagne. But beer is nice too…Guinness, lager. And scotch on the rocks -- yummy. Can you tell I'm giving short answers because I wrote too much above?
If you had to choose between an angel and a vampire, which would you choose? Why?
Angel. It's always sexy to corrupt the innocent.
Most people would say uniforms are sexy. Do you agree? Which is the sexiest in your opinion? They can be sexy on the right people. Both men and women. I don't really have a favorite as I tend to judge on what's inside them a lot.
What's your favourite action movie? If you don't have a favourite, name one you didn't hate.
The Fifth Element. Scifi action but so intense. Bruce Willis is great and so is the plot, the setting, in fact it's one of my all-time favorites. I even loved that opera singer and the bad guy was awesome.
Name your favourite cookie. No, seriously, tell us what it is and give it a new name.
Muffins! Sorry. I love choc chip muffins more than cookies. The muffigalacious chomp? LOL
Who's your favourite cartoon character? What do you like about them? The robot from Futurama. He is so nasty and hilarious at the same time. Bite my shiny metal ass.
What is the name of the last book you wanted to use as kindling? No. Mustn't say. It was probably an erotic book and saying would be rude. Besides, I forgot the title, it was that bad.
What songs would you choose for the soundtrack of your life? Right now I'm in love with Muse and Warren Zevon so they'll do. Love em all. Nightwish too actually. Not sure they describe my life exactly though. Something like a jingle might be better off for that. Or a five year old playing a harmonica really really badly.
Of all your characters, which one do you think would be best in a crisis? I'm ashamed to say all those strong ladies I wrote tend to be flawed and I'd rather trust one of the men. Sten, my latest in Lust Plague would be the nicest guy to trust even if he's rather trigger happy with dragging his women onto the bed…the roof…and into the forest so he can tie them to trees. Hmm. Of the women, strangely enough, his partner, Kaysana, would be the strongest and most reliable in a crisis.
You so want more of this. So, since I like giving my readers what you want, I'll hook you up! ;) Swing by here: http://www.carisilverwood.net/ for another taste. Or better yet check this out:
Click on the cover if you need a hot read. Trust me. You want to click! And then you can join my campaign for Danyko's book! It must be written!And the Winners of the Lover's Scare Contest are....
3rd Place~Beauty meets her Beast by Sophie Oak
For more of Sophie, please visit: http://www.sophieoak.com/
2nd Place~Doggy Style by Tymber Dalton
For more of Tymber, please visit: http://tymberdalton.com/
And the Winner of the Lover's Scare contest, as voted by you, the readers, is....
Cherise Sinclair with Capture Gardens!
For more of Cherise, please go here: http://cherisesinclair.com/default.aspx Congradulations to all the winners and a big THANK YOU to the authors that took part in the challenge! From shifters to psychos, to ghosts and men who can make you tremble with a single word, we were given treats much better than anything you're find in a bag full of candy.
A complete list of prize winners will be posted on my contest page in a bit. There will also be a new contest listed...so make sure you check it out!
For more of Sophie, please visit: http://www.sophieoak.com/
2nd Place~Doggy Style by Tymber DaltonFor more of Tymber, please visit: http://tymberdalton.com/
And the Winner of the Lover's Scare contest, as voted by you, the readers, is.... Cherise Sinclair with Capture Gardens!For more of Cherise, please go here: http://cherisesinclair.com/default.aspx Congradulations to all the winners and a big THANK YOU to the authors that took part in the challenge! From shifters to psychos, to ghosts and men who can make you tremble with a single word, we were given treats much better than anything you're find in a bag full of candy.
A complete list of prize winners will be posted on my contest page in a bit. There will also be a new contest listed...so make sure you check it out!
November 6, 2011
Less than 24 hours left TO VOTE for your favorite entry in the Lover's Scare Contest!
If you haven't read the entries, here they are!~Chasing Love By Keta Diablo
~The Demon Side By Heaven Liegh Eldeen
~The Grove By R. Renee Vickers
~Beauty Meets her Beasts By Sophie Oak
~Rendezvous By Lisabet Sarai
~Doggy Style By Tymber Dalton
~Submissive Beauty By Eliza Gayle
~Catherine's Toys III By KevaD
~Lust Plague By Cari Silverwood
~Lily Mine By Annabel Joseph
~Taken Hostage By Ranae Rose
~Capture Gardens By Cherise Sinclair
~Weekend at Wilderhope Manor By Lucy Felthouse
~AETERNUS By J.S Wayne
All the winners for the contest have been chosen, so while you may still comment to show the author your support, you will not be entered to win any prizes. And don't forget to VOTE! All the winners (including the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place authors) Will be announced November 8th. If your name is there and you haven't heard from the author, your email didn't work. You'll have a day to contact me with the right email before another winner is chosen.
I hope everyone enjoyed the contest and added to their TBR list! I know I did! :)
