Daryl Devore's Blog, page 103

Erotic Notions on My Sexy Saturday Hop

Welcome to Erotic Notions first time at My Sexy Saturday.
My snippet is from my latest release - Capri's Fate.
http://www.amazon.com/Capris-Fate-ebook/dp/B00CJ1I6Y0/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1366992997&sr=1-1&keywords=new+dawning+bookfair

Mini BlurbRecipe for heat. Take one human – Capricious Gray – and mix with one Fate – Thall. Add in a dash of jealousy, anger, passion and lust. 
Excerpt Kat directed me to the ticket kiosk and then in some blur of disbelief, I was standing inside the nation's biggest sex toy show. 
The last consumer trade show I attended was for the company. It featured displays of state-of-the-art computers, software and how to make your office environmental and ergonomic. The dispassionate side of me said this was very much the same. Display booths lining the walkways with sales people pitching their wares. The entire rest of my being said, "Run!" The wares here weren't technological. They were fruit-scented anal lube, blowup dolls, crotchless panties and…and…what the hell is that?
Kat grabbed my shoulder. "This is so exciting. I've always wanted to come to one of these. We get to do the private rooms."
"Oh! Uh, great." Words exited my mouth, but my brain was still in shock.
"Come on, this way. We, also, get to use the VIP area. Champagne and chocolate." Her voice rose two octaves.
Champagne! I could use a slug. I mean a sip. We showed our passes to a large security guard then sat at a table overlooking the convention area. A server placed two unbelievably tiny, plastic glasses filled with champagne on our table and a plate of four chocolates. Who eats only four chocolates?
(sorry for messy post - format is freaking out and refuses to behave) Now onto the other Sexy Saturday Authors

Daryl Devore is on Sizzling Summer Reads

Today is my day on sizzling summer reads. And the ebook I'm offering up is a sizzler - Capri's Fate. For a chance to win - you have to visit The Romance Reads and answer my question of the day. There are over 400 authors for the whole month. So drop by often.  http://www.theromancereviews.com/event.php



Blurb -

What's a woman to do when a voice follows her home and makes mad, passionate love to her?
Corporate business woman, Capricious Gray, is dragged to a sex toy convention by her best friend. Once a shocking, mysterious disembodied voice helps her with her purchases, it follows her home. Passion ensues, leaving Capri torn between lust for her fantasy lover and the desperate need for reality in her life.
Thall, son of one of the Fates, harbors the irrepressible need to be with the woman he's desired from afar for years. In order to make her his, once and for all, he must help Capri get past her fears, including the fear of what he represents - a fantasy.
Can fantasy become a reality for these two lovers?

Hint - the answer to the question is on my blog.

Jerri Alexander's The Last Execution on Erotic Notions

Daryl, thank you for hosting me. I love your blog, and wow, your book covers are beautiful! I appreciate the chance to get to know your friends.
Was there a moment when you first thought "I'm a writer"?It took holding a book in my hand with my name on the cover! And even that was surreal. Now I'll admit to freaking out when the contract was offered and signed. But throughout the edits, the cover selection process, and promotion of my first book, The Green-Eyed Doll, I didn't really feel in my gut that I was actually a published writer. The day that box of book arrived, I was beside myself. Holding the paperback, the weight of it in my hand, and the smell of fresh paper...that was the moment I thought OMG...I did it! That was almost better than sex!
What genre(s) do you write in?I'm sticking with romantic suspense at least for now. I tend to write gritty stories about controversial subjects and I love the research that goes into making the story realistic. But I have learned to never say never. :)
Have many books have you written? List names of published books?I have five books on the way. Wow..that sounds like I'm giving birth, and I guess in a way that's true.The Green-Eyed Doll and The Last Execution are available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, KOBO, and ARE.Someone To Watch Over Me, my 32K word short story will release midsummer.  Hell or High Water, book one in the Lost and Found series, is in the edit stage. And last, No Time To Kill, book two in the series is ready for edits too.
What is your latest book about?The Last Execution officially released June 7th. It's a story about a young woman who makes a controversial decision. Seven years later that decision puts her and an FBI agent on a collision course with a vigilante and a rapist.
What is your favourite moment in the story (one that doesn’t give away any secrets)The hero in The Last Execution has zero experience with kids. And kids will say or ask anything. There's a scene in the book where the hero is asked about the scar on his face. I hope my reader can feel the emotions as the two bond.
Plotter or a pantster?  Why does this work best for you?Just the word plotter scares me to death. I really wish I could plot out a book. I have a couple of friends who do, and they write much faster than I can. Before I begin, I have a premise, usually the first line in the story, and research on my characters. Then I give the reins to each of them. I really try to let them come alive. It works better that way...for me. Usually if I find myself in a corner, it's because I'm trying to force my opinion or morals on that character.
Have any of your characters ever been based on people you knew from real life?Not intentionally. I tell people I married the last John Wayne, which is true. He says little and means what he says. He still opens my car door, walks on the outside, and is the backbone of our family. So maybe, my heroes reflect my view of him.  
Short question time.Favourite ice cream - Blue Bell Chocolate Covered Cherries. Darn them for not having it available all the time.Dream vacation - Negril, Jamaica. To the Riu Palace. Where the water is so clear you can see your toes in chest deep water.Least favourite food – Sauerkraut. Can't eat it, can't be in the same room while it cooks. It's my Kryptonite.
Stuck on an island – what 3 things would you bring? Why did Gerard Butler pop into my head the second I read this question? Okay, he can't go. So I'd bring a working satellite phone, matches, and drinking water.



Release Date: June 7th, 2013

Blurb:
To survive, she must put the past behind her. To love, she must learn to trust.


Homicide detective Leigh McBride's first assignment with the FBI brings her face-to-face with a past she's tried hard to forget. And when her temporary partner, a cynical ex-marine, lights a fire in her she thought long-extinguished, her darkest secret is threatened.


Scarred both physically and emotionally, Special Agent J. T. Noble is a man of few words. He prefers to keep people at a distance—until he meets Leigh. He's attracted to her strength and drawn in by her secrecy. But in their line of work, secrets can be deadly.


When the killer they are hunting aims his vigilante justice at Leigh's past assailant, the fine line between right and wrong blurs. To heal the past—and find their future together—Leigh and J. T. must learn that only through trust and forgiveness can love grow.
Excerpt 
Ethan turned his head sideways as he studied J.T.’s face. Wide eyed, the boy pointed at the scar with his index finger. J.T. wasn’t surprised. The kid was probably curious.
               “How’d you get that?”
               “A piece of shrapnel—” He paused and considered Ethan’s age. “I was in the war. A bomb went off and a piece of metal smacked me in the face.”
               “Does it hurt?”
               “Not anymore.” J.T. marveled at the innocence in Ethan’s eyes.
               “Can I touch it?”
               “I guess so.” J.T. breathed in and waited. Ethan hesitated, leaning closer.
               “I’m not supposed to talk about your scar.”
               “Who said?”
               “Mama.”
               “It’s okay. I won’t tell.”
               J.T. turned his head to the side. No one had outright asked to touch the constant reminder of a day when his best friend caught the worst of an IUD. Hell, people shied away from his right side. Except Leigh, she looked him square in the face. He lay still while Ethan poked a finger into the scar a couple of times. After a few seconds of investigation, the kid cupped the scar with his small hand and patted lightly. The oddest thing happened to J.T.’s heart. It swelled inside his chest and then clenched.
               “Mama said you were a brave soldier.”
               Alien emotions swirled through J.T. and an unexplained urge to hug Ethan put a weird lump in J.T.’s throat. Unable to cope or understand, his mind raced for an idea, anything to end the moment. 

Giveaway Win one of two copies of The Green-Eyed Doll by Jerrie Alexander


Share Link 

A student of  creative writing in her youth, Jerrie set aside her passion when life presented her with a John Wayne husband, and two wonderful children.  A career in logistics offered her the opportunity to travel to many beautiful locations in America, and she revisits them in her romantic suspense novels. 
But the characters went with her, talked to her, and insisted she share their dark, sexy stories with others.  She writes alpha males and kick-ass women who weave their way through death and fear to emerge stronger because of, and on occasion in spite of, their love for each other.  She likes to torture people, make them suffer, and if they’re strong enough, they live happily ever after.
The author of THE GREEN-EYED DOLL, and THE LAST EXECUTION, Jerrie and her husband live in Texas. She loves sunshine, children’s laughter, sugar (human and granulated), and researching for her heroes and heroines.

Website   Blog   Twitter   Facebook   Goodreads   Pinterest







a Rafflecopter giveaway

Spotlight on The Houdini Girl by Martyn Bedford on Erotic Notions

The Houdini Girl by Martyn Bedford
Fletcher 'Red' Brandon is a conjurer, an illusionist, a master of deception who uses his talents to seduce wild, impulsive Irish rose, Rosa, into his life with a simple sleight of hand. But when Rosa is killed, Red is pitched into a new world where betrayal, exploitation and violence are no act. The deeper Red delves into the life and death of the woman with who he shared one sexy, freewheeling year, the closer he comes to a painful realization: even the trickster can be tricked.Available from:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B009NY1RDI/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1634&creative=19450&creativeASIN=B009NY1RDI&linkCode=as2&tag=lucyfelthouse-21http://www.amazon.com/Houdini-Modern-Erotic-Classics-ebook/dp/B009NY1RDI/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1367335784&sr=1-1&keywords=the+houdini+girl+modern+erotic+classics*****Excerpt:Prologue
Truth is, I tricked her into falling for me. Rosa Kelly: dark hair, blue eyes – wicked combination. And, though she could’ve had her pick, she fell for me. OK, maybe ‘tricked’ has inappropriate connotations. How about this: she wasn’t tricked so much as beguiled? Yes. Altogether more apt.
Beguiled. Comparable to ‘bewitched’, with its suggestions of sensuality and enchantment. Certainly, the illusion with which I beguiled her depended, for effect and execution, on intimacy of touch and a semblance of the supernatural. We were in a pub in Oxford, the Eagle and Child; wood panelling, nooks and crannies. We were strangers. I was with my friends, she was with hers. Someone in my group knew someone in hers and, following the complicated rearrangement of tables and chairs, there were thirteen of us seated together. An inauspicious assembly if you’re inclined to superstition, which I am not. I’d noticed Rosa even before the two parties had become one, though I made sure to give no indication ofpaying her more, or less, attention than the other newcomers in our smoky, boozy alcove. The positioning of the chairs – I swear I had nothing to do with it, occupied as I was with the transfer of drinks – brought us directly opposite one another. She was smoking Marlboro and drinking Belgian lager straight from the bottle. Her eyeshadow was pale green, to match her lipstick. She wore a ring on every finger and on both thumbs.
‘Watch that one, Rosa, he’s a magician,’ said one of my friends as the introductions were completed.
Rosa, drawing deeply on a cigarette, exhaled across the table. ‘There,’ she said, ‘I’ve made him disappear in a puff of smoke.’
Everyone roared at that. Brilliant timing, impeccable delivery. I might’ve reached over and produced a cheese-and-onion crisp from behind her ear, but when you’ve just been upstaged in public the least embarrassing recourse is to play the supporting role with good grace. Besides, a crisp?
So I laughed along with the rest of them. Rosa’s voice was slightly husky, her accent a curious concoction of Irish and London; her eyes and mouth smiled in perfect synchronization, as though she enjoyed nothing more than being made to laugh. She turned to the guy on her left, asking him to pass an ashtray. They fell into conversation, her long black hair snagging now and then on his shoulder as she leaned close to hear him. Me, I drank and talked to my friends and went to the bar and to the toilet. And, with discretion, I observed her hands – all those rings, the emerald nails, the way she held her drink, lit a cigarette. She had long bony fingers and thin wrists engulfed in bracelets and friendship bands and the cuffs of a multicoloured woollen sweater several sizes too big for her. Every fresh bottle of beer, she shredded the label clean off with her thumbnail.
I have magician’s hands. By that, I don’t mean they are the perfect size or shape for my work, because such perfection of design is rare. It helps to have hands large enough to facilitate, say, the concealment of a playing card; but large hands have large fingers, less well suited to the more nimble manipulations. The trick is to adapt. Most anatomical deficiencies of the hand can, within reason, be compensated for by rigorous practiceor by appropriate props. (If you’ve got small hands, use a smaller pack of cards.) My hands are neither too large nor too small; what they are is well trained. I have taught myself dexterity and ambidexterity. A speciality in my repertoire of sleights is ‘acquitment’ – the showing of a hand as empty while actually it contains something. Done ineptly, this is known in the profession as ‘hand-washing’. Two tips: one, rehearse in front of a mirror until your movements appear entirely natural; two, never look at your hands while effecting a sleight, because the one place the audience is sure to look is where you’re looking.
Rosa’s hands weren’t magical; for all their conscious disguise of adornment and manipulation, they revealed rather than concealed. I longed to hold them. We’d all been drinking for a while when a familiar appeal issued from the hubbub of overlapping chatter. Hey, Red, show us a trick.
Even my oldest friends do this. You get used to it.
‘I’m playing the Crucible, in Sheffield, next Friday, if you want to come along.’
‘Fuck off and show us a trick.’
‘Fuck off yourself.’
‘What’s this, the Illusion of the Cantankerous Git?’
After a moment or two of this, you give in. And you always involve someone else in the illusion, because they love all that. I’ll need the help of an assistant from the audience; come on, don’t be shy . . . That evening, I made eye contact across the table. Blue irises, green eyeshadow. With no perceptible alteration, Rosa’s expression said Don’t even think about it. But the enthusiastic coercion of others as they edged their chairs closer toour table made it more awkward for her to decline than to agree.
‘Go on, then.’ Defiance. Her eyes, her tone of voice, the set of her shoulders said she was prepared to be unimpressed; nothing I could do could possibly surprise or interest her or escape her detection. And if I tried to make her appear foolish I’d fail because she didn’t give a shite what anyone thought of her, least of all me. She smiled. ‘If you’re good, I’ll let you make me a giraffe out of balloons.’
I instructed her to hold out her hands, palms downwards. She did this. I took them in mine and drew them over the centre of the table. Her skin was cool and dry. Releasing her hands, I told her to make fists. She made fists. Everyone was quiet now, watching and listening with rapt attention.
‘You’re a Roman Catholic, right?’ I asked.
‘And there’s you guessing that, with me talking like a Kerrywoman.’
One or two people giggled.
‘Do you believe in the stigmata?’
‘The what?’
‘That we can be marked with the sign of Christ’s suffering on the cross?’
‘Oh, sure.’
I dipped the tip of my right middle finger into the ashtray, piled with the accumulated tappings from her own cigarettes. Displaying the silvery-grey stain at the end of the finger, I declared, ‘By rubbing this into the back of your clenched fist, I shall cause the ash to pass through the hand and appear like a stigma in the centre of your palm.’
Her eyes said Oh, yeah. I kept my face a blank of composed concentration. Placing my fingertip on the back of her right hand, I began massaging the ash gently into the pale skin with a small, circular movement. The bracelets on her wrist clicked against one another as she responded involuntarily to the pressure of my touch. All eyes were focused on the point of contact, where a charcoal smear now blemished the skin.
Rosa glanced up at me, then down again at the back of her hand.
‘Now, Rosa, please unclench your fist and display your hand palm upwards.’
She did as instructed. Her palm was unmarked. Silence gave way to stifled laughs, a groan, a jeer. Rosa caught my eye again, smirking slightly, and I feigned an expression of alarmed incomprehension. She was about to recline in her seat.
‘Are you left-handed?’ I asked suddenly.
She nodded.
‘You are?’
‘Yeah.’
‘In that case, would you unclench your left hand for me?’
It was her turn for puzzlement. Her smile became uncertain. The onlookers had fallen quiet once more, switching attention to her other fist. Rosa uncurled the fingers and, slowly, hesitantly, revolved the palm upwards. In its centre was an unmistakable dab of cigarette ash.*****Other Modern Erotic Classics available:The Houdini Girl by Martyn BedfordLie to Me by Tamara Faith BergerThe Phallus of Osiris by Valentina CilescuKiss of Death by Valentina CilescuThe Flesh Constrained by Cleo CordellThe Flesh Endures by Cleo CordellHogg by Samuel R. DelanyThe Tides of Lust by Samuel R. DelanySad Sister by Florence DugasThe Ties That Bind by Vanessa DuriésDark Ride by Kent Harrington3 by Julie HildenNeptune & Surf by Marilyn Jaye LewisViolent Silence by Paul MayersbergHomme Fatale by Paul MayersbergThe Agency by David MeltzerBurn by Michael PerkinsDark Matter by Michael PerkinsEvil Companions by Michael PerkinsBeautiful Losers by Remittance GirlMeeting the Master by Elissa Wald

Spotlight on Samuel R Delany's The Tides of Lust on Erotic Notions

The Tides of Lust by Samuel R. Delany

The Tides of Lust is a powerful, erotic and violent encounter with the voices and experiences of characters who linger in a small American seaport. Here is an insatiable African-American ship's captain, a dangerously young slave mistress, an aimless drifter and a supreme artist of the perverse. Written by acclaimed and award-winning author Samuel R. Delany, The Tides of Lust, first published in 1973, is a wild ride along the oceans of unleashed sexuality at its most exuberant. A true modern classic.

Available from:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B009NY1TNG/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B009NY1TNG&linkCode=as2&tag=lucyfelt-20http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B009NY1TNG/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1634&creative=19450&creativeASIN=B009NY1TNG&linkCode=as2&tag=lucyfelthouse-21https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thetidesoflustmoderneroticclassics-1008289-144.html?referrer=6bdb1f9160564c0525b41f36e51861a0*****Excerpt:The color of bell metal: Longer than a big man's foot; thick as a small girl's wrist. Veins made low relief like vines beneath the wrinkled hood. His fingers climbed the shaft, dropped to hair tight as wire, moved under the canvas flaps to gouge the sac, black as an over-ripe avocado: spilled his palm (it is a big hand); climbed the shaft again.
There is little light.
What's here bars the shutters in gold. Water lisps and whispers outside. The cabin sways, rises. Thereis a wind out to sea, that means. That means here at port it is clear evening. The dog on the floor claws the planks.
The captain's toes spread the footboard. His chin went back and his belly made black ridges. The longhead rolled on the pillow, brass ring at his ear a-flash.
The hood slipped from the punctured helmet. The knuckles, like knots in weathered cable, flexedon him. The rhythm started with the boat's sway. Increase: his hand and the boat syncopate. The doubled pace pulled his buttocks from the blanket. The rirn of his fist beat the tenderer rim ( one color with his palm). His breath got loud. It halted, and halted, and halted. Stop action film: a white orchid from bud to bloom.
Breath regular.
Mucus drips his knuckles. Still stiff, the shaft glistens.
Pearls on black wire.
"Kirsten?"
He swung his feet over the edge, his shoulders hunched (dull as cannon shot); his dirty shirt was sleeveless. Buttons: copper.
"Kirsten!"
His voice: maroons, purples, a nap between velvet and suede.
"Come down here!"
When the door cracked, he laughed.
Her hair was yellow, paler than the light. Her smock, torn at her neck, hung between her breasts. One dull aureole rose on the blue horizon. Her face moved with its laughter before she saw, "Captain, you . . . ?" saw, and smothered it, to have it break again. Blue eyes widened in the half dark. "What do you want?"
She stepped on to the rug. A copper anklet sloped beneath the knob of her ankle, crossed low on her calloused heel. (Uneven hem brushes smudged knees. ) A print sash bound her belly.
"Where is your brother?"
"In the wheelhouse, asleep."
"Where were you?"
"On deck. I was sitting in the sun."
"With the men on the docks all coming by to stare? How many with their hands in their pockets?"
"Oh . . . !"
"None of them with what I got." He leaned back.
His fingers tracked his stomach. "Come here. Tell me what's for supper."
 "Your thoughts have gone as high as your gut, now?"
"How do you and the boy get chores done if you sleep and sun all the time?"
"But what is there to do in port?" She stepped across the rug, laughing.
He grabbed her wrist. She stumbled and he caught: "How many times!"
She pushed his chest. Her wrist turned under slippery fingers.
"Five times? Six? I'll say seven—"
"But see, you've already—"
"Once already. Six more now." He kneaded her inner thigh.
"Captain . . . !" She tried to pull away.
His hand went beneath the hem.
She shrieked and bit the sound off. What spilled after was a giggle.
"How many years have I had you two, now?" His forearm shifted like bunched blacksnakes. She tried to push his hand from under her skirt. Stopped trying.
She opened her lips and caressed his arm.
"How many years? Seven. Now, once for each year you've worked on my boat." He looked down at himself.
She touched where he looked: she took it, slipping the loose skin from the head. When she fingered beneath the twice full bag, he arched his back.
"Pig. Sit on it. Little white pig . . ." Three calloused fingers were knuckle deep in her. She bent; her hair swept his face. He caught it in his yellow teeth, twisted his head. Kirsten grabbed at her hair, and made an ugly sound. His teeth opened on laughter; it and her hair spilled black lips mottled with cerise.*****SAMUEL R DELANY, born 1942, grew up in New York City's Harlem. His novels Babel-17 and The Einstein Intersection both won Nebula Awards from the Science Fiction Writers of America, as have his short fictions, Eye, and Gomorrah and Time Considered as a Helix of Semi-Precious Stones (which also took a Hugo Award during the World Science Fiction Convention at Heidelberg). His books include The Jewels of Aptor, The Fall of the Towers, Nova, Driftglass (short stories), Tales of Neveryon, Triton and Dhalgren, the million-selling odyssey of modern youth. With his wife, National Book Award-winning poetess Marilyn Hacker, he co-edited the speculative fiction quarterly Quark. He also wrote, directed and edited the half-hour film The Orchid. His essays in literary criticism are collected in The Jewel-Hinged Jaw (1977). In 1975 he was visiting Butler Chair Professor of English at the State University of New York at Buffalo. For the last half dozen years Delany and Hacker have lived between New York, San Fransisco and London. They have one daughter.
Other Modern Erotic Classics available:The Houdini Girl by Martyn BedfordLie to Me by Tamara Faith BergerThe Phallus of Osiris by Valentina CilescuKiss of Death by Valentina CilescuThe Flesh Constrained by Cleo CordellThe Flesh Endures by Cleo CordellHogg by Samuel R. DelanyThe Tides of Lust by Samuel R. DelanySad Sister by Florence DugasThe Ties That Bind by Vanessa DuriésDark Ride by Kent Harrington3 by Julie HildenNeptune & Surf by Marilyn Jaye LewisViolent Silence by Paul MayersbergHomme Fatale by Paul MayersbergThe Agency by David MeltzerBurn by Michael PerkinsDark Matter by Michael PerkinsEvil Companions by Michael PerkinsBeautiful Losers by Remittance GirlMeeting the Master by Elissa Wald

Spotlight on Rock Your Soul by Sara Brookes on Erotic Notions

Rock Your Soul by Sara Brookes

Book Blurb:
Beth has been scarred both inside and out by a sadistic Dom and has worked hard to put the pieces of her life back together. However, the successful disc jockey knows one piece doesn’t quite align. She yearns to submit and searches for the one Dom she’s convinced will help bring her to lusty new heights. When Ryan agrees to assist Beth, he’s surprised by her determination to persevere. Intrigued, he pushes her limits by using his gifted carpenter’s hands to bring her wild, erotic pleasure. Ryan, though, has scars of his own, and a tragic past filled with death keeps him at a distance. Two broken souls will find a way to heal together. Beth discovers what she needs in Ryan, and her journey mends Ryan’s heart. But when the life Beth abandoned rises from the shadows, Ryan realizes there’s something far worse than his tortuous past—a future without Beth.
Warning: Get your world rocked by two very tortured souls who come together in a blinding explosion of sensual passion that knows no bounds. Except when there are ropes, custom-carved floggers, glass dildos and motorcycle sex involved. Oh, and did I mention the m/f/m ménage scene? One can never have too many skilled men ready to lend a…hand.
Book Link:
Ellora's Cave: http://www.ellorascave.com/rock-your-soul.html
Book Excerpt:
“To your knees.” She blinked, stunned at the power and command in his voice. As the control washed over her, she wanted to respond, but she found herself too annoyed things weren’t going according to plan. While she’d expected him to ask her questions to find out what he was in store for, she didn’t expect anything of this magnitude. Angry, she returned his glare. He smirked. The reaction caused her insides to turn to jelly, her vitriolic thoughts vanishing on the chilly night air. Why did he have to be so goddamned handsome and annoying at the same time? “I suggest you listen if you want me to consider taking you on as I don’t like repeating myself. To. Your. Knees.” She opened her mouth to protest and he tilted his head down just enough to give her another message. A very stern one she couldn’t help but listen to. He would not be ignored. She dropped her hands to her sides and slowly lowered to her knees. The rough rocks immediately bit into her shins, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing him she was in pain. She heard the unmistakable sound of buttons popping on his jeans and looked up just in time to see him part the denim. What in the Sam hell did he intend to do? If he expected her to suck his dick right here and now, he’d better think again. “Eyes down.” The authority behind those two words coursed through her, compelling her to obey. It had been a long time since she’d had this kind of reaction. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she complied. The denim pooled around his ankles and she found herself staring at the pile. Just as she started to wonder if Elena had been out of her mind to recommend this man, his hand slid against the top of her head. His touch was almost calming and, despite her annoyance, a feeling of tranquility washed over her. His fingers combed her hair, catching the elastic holder from her ponytail, pulling it free. He continued to run his fingers through the strands, fanning out her hair. She relaxed under his persistent touch. The pain in her legs melted away and she gave a soft sigh as her body started to quietly buzz. Yes. The crunch of rocks jolted her back to the moment. She listened to him move away, leaving her alone on the rock path in front of his house. What in the hell? Beth looked to the left and her eyes widened in surprise as she spotted him. He strolled toward the small lake at the front corner of the field, towel swinging in his hand as he walked. Those jeans of his were at her feet and she now had an unobstructed view of his bare ass. A very firm, very tan, perfectly formed ass. Christ on a slinky going down an up escalator if he doesn’t look even better out of those jeans. Transfixed by the bunch and pull of the muscles in his thighs and butt as he walked over the uneven ground, she forgot her place and openly gawked. When he reached the bank at the water’s edge, he dropped the towel and walked right into the lake. She expected him to dive under the surface, but instead he slowly moved until the water lapped as his hips. He sunk as if he were a knife cutting through the water, disappearing with no more than a quiet ripple disturbing the surface. The lake smoothed in seconds. The only indication she ever had company were those damn jeans on the ground in front of her.
Author Bio:
Sara Brookes is an award-winning author who has always been fascinated by the strange, the unusual, the twisted and the lost (tortured heroes are her personal favorite). She is an action movie junkie, addicted to coffee and has been known to stay up until the wee hours of the morning playing RPG video games. Despite all this, she is a romantic at heart and is always a sucker for an excellent love story. Born and bred in Virginia, Sara still lives there with her husband and daughter. The entire family is owned by two cats, Galahad and Loki, who graciously allow the family to cater to their every desire.
Author Links:
Website: www.sarabrookes.com Twitter: http://twitter.com/Sara_Brookes Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/brookesofbooks Facebook Author Page: http://www.facebook.com/authorsarabrookes Announcement List: http://eepurl.com/mbG31

Spotlight KATHLEEN ANN GALLAGHER on Erotic Notions

SPOTLIGHT KATHLEEN ANN GALLAGHER

SUN , SAND & SEANCES   ~ COMING JUNE 19, 2013 TO DECADENT TEASE
BLURB
Bobbi Collins is a caring and devoted kindergarten teacher who had her world turned upside down when her fiancé died after a lover’s quarrel. Five years later, she still struggles with acceptance. Her role as an educator fills up her week, but on weekends, Bobbi longs for something more.
When she stumbles across a newspaper ad for a psychic fair in the historic town of Cape May, New Jersey, it seems like the answer. Bobbi is determined to revive her once vibrant spirit.    Kevin Carlton a successful realtor is tired of the dating game. He doesn’t remember buying a raffle ticket, but when his co-worker announces he holds the winning number, he decides to take a chance and attend the all expense paid weekend in Cape May, at the Lady of the Sea's Psychic Fair. Since he was a lazy and unfocused teen, with no direction, he hopes to find a spiritualist who has the ability to contact his late father. Kevin’s deepest regret is being a failure in his dad’s eyes.
Sparks fly when Bobbi and Kevin run into one another at the fair. When strange happenings occur, Bobbi rushes into her ex-boyfriends arms. She never imagined having a weekend of magic, memories, and a chance to rekindle the flame with her lost love.  
Will two people who once shared something wonderful, be able to reconnect after dealing with the sudden tragedies in their lives or will it be too late?  Bobbi fears someone or something wants to keep them apart.
Can the historic town of Cape May cast a spell on their hearts and allow the reunited couple to find what they both desire?  How will passion survive amongst the backdrop of a town where spirits never sleep?


EXCERPT
Kevin sat and slid close to her. “Don’t be scared. Old hotels need constant repair. Try not to let all of the ghost stories get to you. It’s all in fun.” “The stories I’ve heard sound real.” “I think the air conditioner made the noise.” He laughed. Bobbi grabbed the blanket from the edge of the bed and placed it around her shoulders. “Don’t you feel the cold air?” “Did you turn it on when you came into the room?” “No, I thought you did.” “Now, that’s weird. I didn’t touch it.” Kevin slowly put his arm around her shoulder. With their bodies close, neither of them said another word. The warmth of his touch calmed her nerves, and Bobbi turned to gaze into his eyes. She gasped when Kevin gave her an intense stare, and gently placed his hand on the side of her face. Her desire surfaced and the wall she’d built began to loosen. As Kevin pulled her close and nuzzled her neck, she placed her arms around his broad back. Then, when he placed his lips on hers and searched her mouth with his tongue, she whimpered and surrendered to his passionate embrace.



I write contemporary, paranormal, and erotic romance.
Although writing is my passion, nursing is my vocation.  I work in an emergency room, and it’s been challenging, and rewarding, to be such an integral part of so many other’s daily struggles.  I have a wonderful husband who always offers his support, and never complains about my crazy schedule. One of our favorite romantic getaways is Cape May, New Jersey, an old historic beach town where we take a step into the past, and enjoy life’s simple pleasures.  Although my children are all grown with busy lives of their own, Chaz, our Shepherd mix, still dutifully stands guard at the house.  We are also blessed with three adorable grandsons.  

Other interests of mine include cooking, reading, and the theater.  However, spending time with my family is most important to me.  Even though my life is filled with work, family, etc., my mind continues to ponder the next story or concept for a new novel.  Kathleen is offering a handmade-jeweled bookmark, to capture some of the charm of the historic town of Cape May, to one of you. Make a comment to be entered in the giveaway. Don’t forget to leave your email address.
You can find Kathleen here.
http://kathleensplacetoreflect.blogspot.com/?zx=e33c25154ce308d9
http://www.kathleenanngallagher.net/
https://twitter.com/Kathleenwrites
https://www.facebook.com/kathleen.a.gallagher?ref=tn_tnmn

Table for Three - Hold the Blood, Bobbi Romans is on Erotic Notions

A big Erotic Notion welcome to - Bobbi Romans – and her – Table For Three-Hold the Blood
Tell us some things  about yourself.1. I have a super large family2. Hubs and I have been on a talk show (hey it was a free trip)3. Pets owned: Dogs, Cats, Fish, Squirrels, Crawdads, Ferrets and a rat.4. We’ve lost a house to fire and been through hurricanes.5.  I worked in construction.
Was there a moment when you first thought "I'm a writer."? Not really. I always dabbled in story telling, and had teachers encourage me about writing. It was a gradual realization, of hey...if I’m I’m doing it, let’s do it real and big.
What genre(s) do you write in? Paranormal/Fantasy, Contemporary and a little bit of horror too. That said almost everything I write has some quirk to it. *wink*
Have many books have you written? List names of published books?Swamp Magic, Under the Full Moon, and soon (possibly this week) Table for Three-Hold the Blood releases from Noble Romance. (https://www.nobleromance.com/) Also coming in Nov and Dec of this year, An American Holiday-Turkey, Cranberry Sauce & Prozac, and A Christmas of Coal & Mistletoe release.
What is your latest book about?Table for Three-Hold theBlood is a horse of another color. A cross genre neither fully fitting in horror or erotic. It’s BOTH!! It’s about a trio who set out to stop a mad serial killer. Killer is beyond mad...they know it and somehow become linked in gruesome ways.  
What is your favourite moment in the story? (one that doesn’t give away any secrets)There’s a scene where a ruckus between the three breaks out. The love they share flies forefront when everything going on becomes secondary to solving the issue at hand at the moment. They pull together.
Plotter or a pantster?  Panster.
Have any of your characters ever been based on people you knew from real life?Not yet! That said, in An American Holiday-Turkey, Cranberry Sauce & Prozac coming, Nov 2013, there are some old timer sayings that I picked up during trips to West Virginia.
Short question time.Favourite ice cream - ChocolateDream vacation - Secluded mountain cabin during winter.  (Skiing by day, cuddling by fireside bynight.)Least favourite food – Seafood. Yeah, I live in Florida. What super power would you like to be granted. Why? Telekinesis. I’m a lazy bitch.



Blurb:Shana, Erron and Marklon hadn’t realized life had more than a committed threesome in store for them.
Like catching the serial killer monster who is leaving bloody body parts in restaurants throughout their small town—on platters no less.
The first murder and subsequent meal/gag occurred not long ago, at the upscale eatery, Carnal Cravings.
After that, nearly every restaurant in town had served up some form of unexpected tartar.
Heads on platters stuffed like prize pigs at luaus and people popsicles. Even deli-wrapped penises taking Oscar Meyer Weiner to a whole new plane of pun have rocked the sleepy little town of Crow Manor Maine to a state of panic.
It’d been then the nightmares began for them. Wasn’t long before they realized they weren’t nightmares but visions. They’d become attuned to the killer.
As they fight for their love and their lives, old skeletons tumble out of the closet that could literally carve the threesome to shreds.
To buy Table for Three-Hold the Blood, (before it hits Amazon or anywhere else) Watch for Nobles New Releases, one day next week!
https://www.nobleromance.com/
For keeping up with me, or just snooping around;
www.bobbiromans.com
http://bobbiromans.wordpress.com/2013/03/15/welcome-to-the-yakpad/
FB: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Bobbi-Romans/196420320461280?ref=hl
Twitter: https://twitter.com/BobbiRomans
Thanks for stopping by, and one commenter will an ARC of Table For Three-Hold the Blood.
Bobbi Romans

Erotic Notions is on the Backlist BlogHop

It's always nice to bring out the back list and on the Backlist Blog Hop, I am featuring my three other novels. At the moment - my latest - Capri's Fate is getting all the attention. Well, my other books are crying foul. So this is their moment to shine.





A Kept Woman
Erotic Contemporary
Heat – 5 hot peppers Desperately unemployed, Arianne, answers an ad that reads Woman Wanted. With miniscule hours and excellent pay, she accepts the position of courtesan to Derek, a handsomely dashing man, whom she discovers is a billionaire. Engaging in a game of cat and mouse, will they drive each other crazy…or will they fall in love first? Free Read - click on tab at top of blog





Sexy Red HoodErotic contemporary
Heat – 4 hot peppers “Go save your Grandmother.” After learning her grandmother booked a cruise with a supposed gigolo and is squandering her inheritance, Esmeralda (Red) Hood boards Emerald Forest cruise ship to protect both.

 Once there, Red slips and falls into the arms of Wilhelm Olf, a dark-eyed, continental who makes her body tingle. Stepping out of the elevator, she barges into Andrew Woodsman, a bumbling private school teacher on his first vacation cruise.
With her attention torn between the dissimilar but sexually-intriguing men and keeping watch over tequila drinking, rock wall climbing grandma, Red's cruise is filled with fun and erotic fantasies.
Grandmother's warning of Never trust a wolf in sheep's clothing leaves Red confused. Later, when she wakes up in a utility closet, hands and feet bound and emerald necklace missing, Red discovers the man she suspected is not only innocent but also the one she loves. Free Read - click on tab at top of blog





Black Dorn Erotic medieval
Heat Rating - 5 hot peppers  Purchased to be trained as a courtesan, Branwyn arrives in a strange new land. A castle called Black Dorn. Her instructor, Duna Trea, is horrified by Branwyn's lack of knowledge of the relations between a man and his woman. Branwyn begins her daily lesson in the art of bedding a man.
Back from battle, Prince Malack rests near a brook to freshen before returning to the court of his father. His life is lonely. The noble woman chosen to be his bride rejected him and bedded his hated rival. Malack turned his anger and loneliness onto the focus of battle and increasing the power and wealth of Black Dorn.
Branwyn, lost and afraid, nears the handsome stranger standing by the brook and requests his help. Malack raises his eyes and his gaze settles onto the face of the woman who will be his queen.Free Read - click on tab at top of blog
To win a copy of the back list ebook of your choice - tell me which book you want and why I should end it to you. I'll pick a random commenter.

On to the other Back List Hoppers

Knobs on Erotic Notions

Hmm? My post today is about things that make me go ????  I searched out an image of a question mark to highlight my topic and found the one above. Then I thought - I'm an erotic blog - it should be a sexy question mark - see below???
I swear when I typed in sexy question mark - that photo of a car is what I got.

What started this whole post - knobs. What kind of knobs you ask? I don't know. Having finished my latest book and got it out the door, I am spring cleaning the folder. Throwing out the individual chapters and the numerous critiques from the coolest critique partners on the planet. This is for them.



As I was saying, I was cleaning out files. I had the three major edits from editor. Tossed them. I had all the photos I'd save when I needed to describe things such as the cockpit in the private jet that Thall flew Capri to Indonesia in. Tossed them all. I had the information I'd collected on wines, Fates and corporate hierarchy. Deleted them.I had to search Capricorns. Needed the traits of one to fill out Capri's personality. That file is history.


Then a got to a file titled Knobs. Door knobs. I'm an erotic author - probably not that. Hmm? Wonder what was inside? I clicked on it and guess what was inside?

Are you ready for it?

Knobs.  That was all - one word - knobs.  Why the (fill in blank) did I save a file with one word in it??

Have you ever found a file that left you wondering