H.K. Carlton's Blog, page 27
November 3, 2019
Book Tour + #Giveaway - Immortal Lust - A Paranormal Vampire Romance Anthology
Immortal Lust A Paranormal Vampire Romance Anthology
Presented by Knox Publishingwith stories by:
Liz Knox & J.H. Wolfe, A.C. Williams & J. Williams, Parker Stevens, Timber Philips, Claire Marta, Harper Ray, Kay Maree, Nikki Landis,
Nicky Fox, Courtney Lynn Rose, Nicole Kelley
As vampires, the entire world is at our disposal. We’re blessed with the one thing that others crave - immortality.
While life may be eternal, love doesn’t come so easy.
In this anthology you’ll go on various journeys with characters who are on their own paths to find their mate, something they crave more than anything else in this world.
***Immortal Lust features a collection of short stories from various authors who have written in time frames from the eighteenth century to modern times. Steam levels vary depending on author and story line.
**Only. $2.99!!**Goodreads * Amazon
**scroll through the slideshow to find out more about the authors!!**
Follow the tour HERE for exclusive content and a giveaway!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
October 30, 2019
October 29, 2019
New Release: A Kink a Day Book Four - by Kay Jaybee @kay_jaybee #BDSM #erotica #femdom
Out NowA Kink a Day Book FourbyKay Jaybee
Need some time out from reality?
If ever there was a time to indulge in some kink laden fantasy, then this is it.
What better way to escape from the world for a while, than by enjoying a daily, bite-sized, morsel of erotica?
Each book in Kay Jaybee’s A Kink a Day series provides eight hot reads. One for each night of the week and a spare in case you fancy a weekend lie-in.
Blurb:
From a restraint fantasy in a dusty South African quarry, to the soap-frothed kinky reminiscences of a soldier; the sexy end-of-the-line activities of a bus driver, to the hidden world where willing men do “Just As She Says”, A Kink a Day Book Four, provides a bite-sized moment of lust-fuelled distraction for each day of the week- with an additional erotic fantasy to enhance your Saturday morning lie-in.
Available from:Amazon UK Amazon US Barnes & Noble iBooks Kobo Smashwords
Here’s an extract from the beginning of Brick Dust:
‘Tell me. What else did he want to do to you?’ ‘He...’ A layer of dry dust landed on Liza’s lips, making it difficult to reply. ‘Come on girl. We’ve got you this far, and hell; you don’t half look good.’ Liza could sense Mick’s urgency. Before he’d tied her up his tone had been methodical and controlled. Now, as the quarry foreman towered over Liza, observing her as she discovered what it really meant to be spread-eagled, naked, exposed, and vulnerable, his Praetorian accent crackled with barely suppressed lust. ‘He...’ She licked her lips, tasting stone grit on her tongue, ‘...he wanted to force me into begging to be fucked.’With her arms at right angles to her body, and her wrists and ankles roped to parallel winch shafts, Liza had the strangest idea that she must look like an open pair of scissors. After accepting the temporary job as administrator at the South African sandstone brick quarry, Liza’s main worry had centred around coping with the extreme heat after years of living on the cool English coast. Once she’d arrived however, Liza had moved on from considering how she would keep cool to how she’d manage to keep her hands off her boss. Within half an hour of meeting Mick, Liza had been fantasising about what it would be like to sit on his lap; slowly rising her arse up and down, as her body engulfed his thick, solid cock... That afternoon, sat at office desks, Liza had been struggling to coat the back of her neck with sun cream, and Mick had offered to help. If Mick had stopped applying the lotion once he’d covered her neck, then perhaps nothing would have happened. But Liza hadn’t wanted him to stop. She’d daydreamed so often about the site foreman giving her a more thorough lotioning than was strictly necessary, she hadn’t complained when Mick lifted her vest top over her head and began to anoint the rest of her back. It was only when Mick moved to her front, that the reality of discovery had invaded Liza’s brain. The idea that someone could walk into their office had dragged her fantasy fuelled imaginings from the tug Mick was creating at her crotch, and caused her to defensively cover her white bra with her hands. ‘What is it with you?’ Mick sat back, more amused than annoyed. ‘One minute you’re asking me to run my hands all over that hot body of yours, and the next you’ve gone cold. Who you hiding from?’ ‘What makes you think I’m hiding? I just don’t want anyone to walk in and see me with your paws all over my chest.’ ‘Come off it. You’re hiding. Why else would you be working in the middle of nowhere for six months when you could be running some nice clean company back home.’ Mick winked at Liza, the fact she hadn’t complained about his hands being on her tits silently hung in the air between them. ‘Anyway, you’re not the first. Nearly everyone who takes your job is avoiding something somewhere else. What’s your excuse for turning up here? Not just to give me wank dreams surely?’ Perversely pleased that she’d been having as much an effect on Mick as he had on her, Liza gave him a half smile. ‘You wank about me?’ ‘Believe it. You’ve done some unbelievable things in my head...’
(A Kink a Day Book One, Book Two and Book Three are already available as eBooks from Amazon, Smashwords, Barnes and Noble, and all good retailers.)
Bio
Kay Jaybee was named Best Erotica Writer of 2015 by the ETOKay received an honouree mention at the NLA Awards 2015 for excellence in BDSM writing.
Kay Jaybee has over 180 erotica publications including, A Kink a Day- Books One-Four (KJBooks, 2018, 2019), The Voyeur (Sinful Press, 2018), The New Room, (KJBooks, 2018), Knowing Her Place-Book 3: The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (KJBooks, 2018), The Retreat- Book2: The Perfect Submissive Trilogy (KJBooks, 2018), Making Him Wait (Sinful Press, 2018), The Fifth Floor- Book1;The Perfect Submissive Trilogy (KJBooks, 2017), Wednesday on Thursday, (KDP, 2017), The Collector (KDP, 2016), A Sticky Situation (Xcite, 2013), Digging Deep, (Xcite 2013), Take Control, (1001 NightsPress, 2014), and Not Her Type (1001 NightsPress), 2013.
Details of all her short stories and other publications can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk
You can follow Kay on: Amazon Twitter Facebook Goodreads BookBub
Kay also writes contemporary romance and children’s picture books as Jenny Kane www.jennykane.co.uk and historical fiction as Jennifer Ash www.jenniferash.co.uk
Release blitz organised by Writer MarketingServices.
October 27, 2019
Book Tour + #Giveaway - Finders - by Amy Romine @AmyJRomine #horror #PNR #thriller
Finders
Finders Ghost Hunting #1 byAmy Romine
Genre:
Paranormal Romance Thriller
When an expert Demonologist meets a Reality Show Producer on the Ghost Hunting Show Finders, sparks of true love fly so brightly even the
Devil takes notice.
Demonologist, Luke Melloy has seen the face of pure evil. He's fought it and sent it back to hell. It's what he does. To Claire Westin, ghosts and
demons are just great television and good for ratings. When faced with the truth Luke has seen, her reality is turned upside down as the two are swept into dire straits moments after they meet. Desire sparks between the unlikely pair, throwing their hearts into chaos with a love neither expected nor wanted.
When the Demon targets an unsuspecting Claire with his wrath, Luke finds his focus split between his oath to God and the awakening of his heart. Together, can they face the ancient evil and defeat it or lose everything?
Add to Goodreads eXtasyBooks
Amazon
Amy Romine has always wanted to be one of the good guys. From playing Charlie's Angels in the backyard of her Macungie, PA home as a child to the pages of her unending projects, Amy has always dreamed of adventure and romance. Her need to make the characters truly deserve their happiness takes us on many a twisted journey. From serial killers to demons, Amy holds nothing back in the name of trueenduring love.
A mother of three, Amy has spent the past sixteen years working in Operations for Ricoh America's Corporation.
She is an avid movie fan and enjoys books, television, theater, her dog Pip and all things romance.
Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Pinterest * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads
Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
October 22, 2019
New Release - The Alpha's Demiwolf - by @GaleStanley [Utopia, 1] #NewAdult #Paranormal #Romance
The Alpha's Demiwolf Utopia, 1
Author: Gale StanleyPublisher: Changeling PressCover Art: Bryan KellerBIN: 009067-02934
Genres: Paranormal, Romance, New Adult, Single Parent/Pregnancy Romance, Voyeurism and Exhibitionism, Werewolves
Blurb:
Kya: I’m a demiwolf -- half wolf, half human, and both species despise my weird mix of genes. Despite the fact I strip for a living, I’ve hung on to my virginity for twenty-two years. Until I got knocked up by a big, bad wolf. Now, I’m going to bring another demiwolf into the world, but his father will never know.
Levi: I’m all wolf, and Alpha of my pack, committed to keeping our bloodlines pure. Then on the night of my bachelor party, I hooked up with a stripper. I just wanted to teach the demiwolf a lesson, but the sex set me on fire. My wolf claimed her and now I can’t get her out of my head. But what if she won’t accept me?
Available at: Changeling Press Amazon B & N Kobo iBooks
Excerpt:
This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
The Alpha's Demiwolf (Utopia 1)
Gale Stanley
All rights reserved. Copyright ©2019 Gale Stanley
Kya
I cringed when I saw the billboard proclaiming, Girls! Girls! Girls! It was a tacky way to get attention, and I hated it. Averting my eyes, I turned the corner, pulled into the lot, and parked my old pickup behind the club. It was my first night at Show ’n Tails, and a definite step down from my old job, but I’d been fired and needed a gig ASAP.The incident wasn’t my fault. There were two of us on the stage and Brandi was so sloshed she invaded my space and fell on her ass. As if that wasn’t enough, she accused me of tripping her. Well, one thing led to another and we both got canned. Another girl told me that Show ’n Tails was hiring and I went for an audition. The manager was an asshat, but he doesn’t ask too many questions. I like to keep a low profile.
This isn’t the life I wanted, but taking off my clothes pays the bills, and I won’t apologize for trying to earn a living. At least I’m not selling my body, just the illusion of sex. A lot of girls up their game, but not me. My virginity is the last piece of self-respect I own and I won’t give it up to some creep for any amount of money.
The heavy backdoor slammed shut and locked behind me and the manager shot me a dirty look. “Hey, Kya. You’re late.”
“Sorry, it won’t happen again. And my name is Raven when I’m working.”
Marty’s lip curled in a sneer. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You better get dressed. I mean undressed.” He snickered.
I ignored his disrespectful ass, and walked over to the dressing room. A row of dented lockers lined one wall. A wide counter with a lighted mirror behind it ran the length of the opposite wall. Everything stunk from sweat and cheap perfume. The long vanity was cluttered with makeup and no one made room for the new girl, so I started changing next to my locker. When a spot at the mirror opened up, I grabbed it and started working on my wild black curls.
Marty stuck his head in the door. “Hey, fresh meat, you’re on next.”
I knew he meant me. I was the newest girl there. Half of me cringed, the half that’s wolf. The half I keep hidden. Or is it a quarter of me I keep hidden? I guess it depends on how you look at it. A full-blooded wolf-shifter is already half human, although they’ll never admit to it. My father was a wolf, but my mother was human.Does that mean I’m… Oh, fuck the fractions. No matter how you look at it, I’m a demiwolf.
But I look human. I checked my body in the mirror. Yep, a hot as hell human female stared back at me. Tacky, but sexy. Nothing says stripper like stiletto platform heels and a thong that shows off a girl’s booty. I slipped on a white, halter mini-dress with a drape-neck, an open back, and a side slit. Then I ran my hands through my curls and gave my lips one last swipe of purple-plum gloss.
It’s so much easier to call myself human and blend in with the majority. The humans are clueless. They know we exist, but they believe we keep to our own side of the tracks. The wolves are a different story. They can smell my lupine pheromones, but they don’t want me. I’m not pure. Fuck ‘em. At least I can make a living among the humans. Stripping might be a trashy job, but it pays for the life I’m trying to live. It’s not the life I want, but it’s all I’ve got. I used to dream about being accepted by my father’s people. Fat chance. They wouldn’t even accept him because he had a human lover and a half-breed kid.
My parents never married, but they lived together -- sometimes. When my father was around, I was daddy’s girl. But all too often, he would disappear as if he had no family. My mother would drink and tell me that he liked to hang out with his own kind in places where we weren’t accepted. When he came back from his trips, he’d act cold and resentful, but it wouldn’t last long. Eventually, he’d tell me he loved me and everything would be okay again. I thought nothing would keep us apart for good. I was wrong.One day he didn’t come back. We found out he was killed in a bar fight. One of his so-called friends called me a mongrel and Dad died defending me. My mother cried and cried. She said this was why they never wanted kids. So I was what… an accident?
I couldn’t blame them. Not really. Life was hard enough without being born with this weird mix of genes. I hated myself, too. I wished I’d never been born. At least I could make things easier for my mother. As soon as I finished school, I left home and never looked back.
While waiting to go on, I thought about my routine -- floor work, then pole dancing, then back on the floor. I’m not nervous anymore about being naked in front of a roomful of men. I was at first, but now I focus on my moves. I’ve been scorned and dehumanized all my life, so I like to emphasize something I can do well -- dance.
I peeked through the curtain and watched Candy finish her routine. There’s a mirror behind the stage and a pole in the center. Chairs surrounded the stage for customers who wanted direct contact with the dancers. I watched one of the men put a bill in his mouth. Candy shoved her breasts in his face and used them to grab the money. There were hoots and hollers and more men waved bills at her. She collected all of her tips, then picked up her clothes, and ran off the stage.The DJ, sitting in an alcove nearby, introduced me. “Next up is a beautiful lady who’s new here. You’re gonna see her naked for the first time tonight.”
Well, it’s not a complete lie. It’s my first time naked on this stage.
“Give Raven a nice warm welcome.”
My heartbeat skyrocketed as I stepped through the curtains and climbed the three steps to the stage. The opening bars of my music started up and I began to move.
* * *
Levi
My anticipation ran high. I’m always excited to see new talent. Samson made a joke about the taste of fresh meat and we all laughed, then I looked up at the stage and my eyes practically popped out of my head, like in one of those old cartoons. The new girl… what’s her name? Raven. She took my breath away. Her curvy shape and that thick black mane had me salivating. From what I could see, everything looked natural, and she had the best set of legs in the club.
“That is one hot piece of ass.” Samson stood up. “I need a closer look.”Samson walked over to the stage and we all followed. Raven smiled in our direction and my heart took a leap. Her white mini dress emphasized all that golden skin, but it was her eyes that really stood out. Almond in shape and color, they seemed to be staring directly at me.
Author Bio and Links
Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.Some things never change.
Website | Blog | Twitter | FaceBook | Instagram | Pinterest
October 21, 2019
New Release - Waltz of Seduction - by Natasha Blackthorne @Nblackthorne #Regency #Romance
New Release
Waltz of Seduction
byNatasha Blackthorne
A Steamy Regency Novella
It all started with a daring red ball gown…
Shy common-born Sara wants to seduce her husband. Her handsome, noble-born husband wants only to teach her how to waltz. But who knew a waltz could be so naughty?
Add Waltz of Seduction to Goodreads.
Lord Lockhart loves his new bride. Yet he also knows that a gentleman doesn't inflict his passionate desires on a wife. The marriage bed is for begetting heirs, not animal lust. No matter how much he desires his wife. But under Lady Lockhart's shyness is a determination to tempt her handsome husband, to satisfy them both and spend every night together in her bed.
Innocent waltzing lessons in their chambers soon become passionate, and may lead the newlyweds to overcome their preconceptions and learn to be lovers, as well as man and wife.
A Message from Natasha Blackthorne: Dear Readers,
On May 20, 2011, I made my debut as a published author with Waltz of Seduction through Ellora’s Cave under their Quickies® line. Now I am re-releasing this short novella. I hope you enjoy this short story for what it is, a snapshot of one moment of time between a young misinformed husband and an innocent and shy but eager young wife. The heat level is Scorching Hot Romance and it contains some sensual bondage.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVEDWaltz of SeductionCopyright © 2011 Natasha Blackthorne
Alarm accelerated her heartbeat and she glanced up at him. "What are you doing?"
"Trust me." He moved behind her and took both her hands. She felt him tugging and pulling.
Then he faced her. "Now we try again."
She pulled at her hands. She couldn’t move them. He had bound them together. "Colin?"
He came back to face her and clasped the sides of her waist, holding her firmly. "I will not let you fall. Do you trust me?"
"I suppose," she replied. But she worried about his state of mind. He did seem a little foxed.
He began to move, slowly. She stared down at her feet.
"Stop counting the steps." He pointed at his face. "Look me in the eyes. Feel this in your body, not your head. Trust me."
Her feet wouldn’t obey.
"In my eyes," he said.
She took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on this mysterious thing he seemed to think she would see in his eyes. He smiled at her and then she did feel something in her belly. A gushy sensation that did nothing to steady her balance. She returned his smile. He was certainly more handsome than her dancing master had been. More graceful as well. They finished the dance with a few trips and stops. Then mercifully, it was over.
They rested a moment.
"I think I have it, will you untie me now?"
"Oh no, my Lady Lockhart. That was just practice. If you trip this time, you shall owe me two waltzes at that ball."
It was an unfair edict. She felt helpless as a marionette in his arms. She didn’t know how she was expected to keep her balance.
After a time, his steady blue gaze transfixed her. She forgot about her feet and just followed him. He was right, there was something in the stomach. A feeling of connection between what she saw in his eyes and how her feet seemed to move in tune with his as if by magic. He twirled her faster and faster until she was laughing and trying to catch her breath. He slowed down and bent his mouth to her ear.
"This is waltzing. And you dance beautifully when you forget yourself." His husky voice sent shivers though her.
His lips touched hers. His tongue caressed her lower lip in feathery strokes. Her lips parted of their own volition and his tongue swept into her mouth. Hot, wet and wine tinged.
Dear sweet heaven.
He had never kissed her like this. She wanted to embrace him but he didn’t seem in a hurry to release her from her bonds. Maybe she should ask. But then, Priscilla said men didn’t like to be directed in the bedchamber.
**Available on Kindle Unlimited **.99¢ to purchase Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon Australia
About the Author
Natasha Blackthorne writes Scorching Hot Historical Romance where deeply flawed characters find love & trust. Her stories are most frequently about the intimate journey of the characters as they learn to open their hearts to love.
Natasha’s heroines are not perfect ladies. They are wildflowers and wallflowers who flirt with the forbidden. Whether they are bold or shy, these heroines’ strong desires and deep emotions drive the plot and drive their strong, dominant heroes heroes to the point of no return.
Natasha holds a B.A. in History, loves reading, cats and music.
Connect with Natasha Blackthorne online:
Facebook I Amazon Author Page I Website I Reader's Group I Twitter I New Releases I Goodreads
A Steamy Regency Novella
It all started with a daring red ball gown…
Shy common-born Sara wants to seduce her husband. Her handsome, noble-born husband wants only to teach her how to waltz. But who knew a waltz could be so naughty?
Add Waltz of Seduction to Goodreads.
Lord Lockhart loves his new bride. Yet he also knows that a gentleman doesn't inflict his passionate desires on a wife. The marriage bed is for begetting heirs, not animal lust. No matter how much he desires his wife. But under Lady Lockhart's shyness is a determination to tempt her handsome husband, to satisfy them both and spend every night together in her bed.
Innocent waltzing lessons in their chambers soon become passionate, and may lead the newlyweds to overcome their preconceptions and learn to be lovers, as well as man and wife.
A Message from Natasha Blackthorne: Dear Readers,
On May 20, 2011, I made my debut as a published author with Waltz of Seduction through Ellora’s Cave under their Quickies® line. Now I am re-releasing this short novella. I hope you enjoy this short story for what it is, a snapshot of one moment of time between a young misinformed husband and an innocent and shy but eager young wife. The heat level is Scorching Hot Romance and it contains some sensual bondage.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVEDWaltz of SeductionCopyright © 2011 Natasha Blackthorne
Alarm accelerated her heartbeat and she glanced up at him. "What are you doing?"
"Trust me." He moved behind her and took both her hands. She felt him tugging and pulling.
Then he faced her. "Now we try again."
She pulled at her hands. She couldn’t move them. He had bound them together. "Colin?"
He came back to face her and clasped the sides of her waist, holding her firmly. "I will not let you fall. Do you trust me?"
"I suppose," she replied. But she worried about his state of mind. He did seem a little foxed.
He began to move, slowly. She stared down at her feet.
"Stop counting the steps." He pointed at his face. "Look me in the eyes. Feel this in your body, not your head. Trust me."
Her feet wouldn’t obey.
"In my eyes," he said.
She took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on this mysterious thing he seemed to think she would see in his eyes. He smiled at her and then she did feel something in her belly. A gushy sensation that did nothing to steady her balance. She returned his smile. He was certainly more handsome than her dancing master had been. More graceful as well. They finished the dance with a few trips and stops. Then mercifully, it was over.
They rested a moment.
"I think I have it, will you untie me now?"
"Oh no, my Lady Lockhart. That was just practice. If you trip this time, you shall owe me two waltzes at that ball."
It was an unfair edict. She felt helpless as a marionette in his arms. She didn’t know how she was expected to keep her balance.
After a time, his steady blue gaze transfixed her. She forgot about her feet and just followed him. He was right, there was something in the stomach. A feeling of connection between what she saw in his eyes and how her feet seemed to move in tune with his as if by magic. He twirled her faster and faster until she was laughing and trying to catch her breath. He slowed down and bent his mouth to her ear.
"This is waltzing. And you dance beautifully when you forget yourself." His husky voice sent shivers though her.
His lips touched hers. His tongue caressed her lower lip in feathery strokes. Her lips parted of their own volition and his tongue swept into her mouth. Hot, wet and wine tinged.
Dear sweet heaven.
He had never kissed her like this. She wanted to embrace him but he didn’t seem in a hurry to release her from her bonds. Maybe she should ask. But then, Priscilla said men didn’t like to be directed in the bedchamber.
**Available on Kindle Unlimited **.99¢ to purchase Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon Australia
About the Author
Natasha Blackthorne writes Scorching Hot Historical Romance where deeply flawed characters find love & trust. Her stories are most frequently about the intimate journey of the characters as they learn to open their hearts to love.
Natasha’s heroines are not perfect ladies. They are wildflowers and wallflowers who flirt with the forbidden. Whether they are bold or shy, these heroines’ strong desires and deep emotions drive the plot and drive their strong, dominant heroes heroes to the point of no return.
Natasha holds a B.A. in History, loves reading, cats and music.
Connect with Natasha Blackthorne online:
Facebook I Amazon Author Page I Website I Reader's Group I Twitter I New Releases I Goodreads
October 18, 2019
'Tis the season for all things spooky... Enjoy this intriguing teaser from The Fall of Cairnnon Castle
For the month of October find all of my eXtasy Books on Sale including fan fave mafia romantic suspense, The Always Cambridge Series; Editor's Choice, historical romance, The Devil Take You; AND the haunting Lustful Possession Saga. A perfectly haunting read that'll get you in the mood for all hallows' eve.
Though this collection of short stories is predominantly dark erotic paranormal—at times verging on horror—it runs the gamut in sub-genres and eras—from contemporary to historical time-travel, and back again. Please note: the series also incorporates both m/f and m/m couplings, plus some multi-partner interaction.
A seemingly harmless paranormal investigation sparks a series of haunting events that ultimately sends an international team of supernatural investigators to Ireland and to one of the most haunted destinations in all of Europe.
Travel Through Time and Unravel the Mystery of Cairnnon Castle
Part 1 - Meet Me in the Dark
(m/f, paranormal, erotic, contemporary, ghosts, possession)
Crishtin Davenport thought she was attending a simple Halloween event—a good scare to get the blood pumping. Little does she know her actions that night would unleash an ancient evil.
Part 2 - Dark Foursome
(m/f, paranormal, erotic, contemporary, ghosts, possession)
A foursome takes on a whole new aspect when a fledgling couple, is hijacked by two randy spirits, who then use their corporeal bodies to recapture the sexual pleasures they enjoyed while inhabiting the physical world.
The saga takes a sudden medieval time-travel twist in Part 3 - The Fall of Cairnnon Castle (m/f, time-travel, Ireland, historical, paranormal, dark erotic, verging on horror)
Cairnnon Castle is one of the most haunted places on earth and home to one of the most evil entities ever documented. When an enthusiastic troop of paranormal investigators descends on the ancient stronghold, all hell breaks loose.
Meet the O'Cairnnon's - a fate most do not survive...
Part 4 - Rising From the Darkness
(m/m, paranormal, erotic, contemporary)
U.S. paranormal investigators return to Ireland to commemorate the 25th anniversary of the Fall of Castle Cairnnon. But what they find instead might set the paranormal community on it’s collective ear.
Part 5 - Dark Seed
(paranormal, erotic, contemporary, m/f story with m/m interaction)
The supernatural investigators' astounding discovery at Cairnnon Castle, can only be described as a miracle.
Or perhaps one blessing, is just another curse.
Part 6 - Bending Darkness
(m/f, paranormal, erotic, time-travel, historical)
The Cairnnon curse threatens to turn one woman's dreams of happily-ever-after into a hellish nightmare.
And Part 7 - Dark Defeat - The stunning conclusion to the Lustful Possession saga
(paranormal, dark erotic, time-travel, historical, an m/f story with f/f and m/f/f interaction)
Hell-bent on saving her children, a mother will stop at nothing to defeat the evil that stalks her family, or at the very least, she’ll die trying.
Evil never gambled on battling one pissed off mother!
Please be aware: This erotic paranormal collection of short stories contains both mf & mm pairings, & cliff-hangers. Installments must be read in order.
Enjoy an erotic excerpt from Part 3 - The Fall of Cairnnon Castle
Prologue
Cairnnon Castle, Ireland—The Present
The earth underneath me quakes. The sky above me falls. It rains down on me. Pain explodes inside my head. My ribs break. I am crushed.
A deafening rumble offends my ears. My body is tossed and crumpled, battered by debris. It goes on for an eternity.
And then...
Silence. Stillness.
The pain is immense. Like nothing I’ve ever endured in my life.
Oh, God! Please! I implore wordlessly. I cannot speak, scream, or moan.
My eyes are closed. But beyond me, there’s brightness, so vivid I detect it through my closed eyelids. I try to open them, but none of my faculties are functioning. I am heavy. My lungs are burning. It hurts to even take shallow breaths. I concentrate on the unenviable task of simply inhaling in and out—an action I have obviously taken for granted all these years. The dust is choking me. I try not to cough. I will split apart if I do. My ribcage has already splintered with the weight upon me.
A low hum begins. It is annoying, but as it goes on it becomes comforting, harmonious.
As the fire in my chest subsides, I am lethargic, sleepy, and content.
Stillness.
I know what this is. It is elemental. Inevitable, from the moment we take our first breath.
I wait for it...
Death comes.
~
I am in and out of consciousness.
“Just come,” I whisper. Speaking is laborious, yet somehow it happens. “Just take me.”
The incessant drone becomes vibration.
I sense it, a presence. Above me. Surrounds me. Becomes me.
The pain subsides by degrees. Warmth seeps into me. I sigh at the pleasure of it. I hadn’t realized I was so cold.
Without words, it communicates with me. Death is one with me.
“You enjoy that.”
“Yes. Thank you.” My gratitude is profound.
“You know what I am.”
It is a statement. It is a part of me. It knows what I am thinking.
I don’t need to articulate. “Yes.”
“You are not afraid.”
“No, you comfort me.”
For a moment I sense confusion, and I am bewildered by it. It is not my uncertainty. It is illogical. Death would not emote. But my thought is distracted.
The lovely heat spreads, radiating through every part of my broken body.
“Ahhhh, that feels so good.”
Everything in me tingles, from the top of my head right down to my feet. There is no pain. Not even my lungs hurt anymore. My inhalations become rapid instead of shallow. My blood rushes. I can hear it traveling through my veins. My pulse pounds in my head. My body throbs. My breasts tingle and my loins catch fire.
I squirm. My body tightens. The heaviness in my lower body is nothing but carnal.
I am not even being touched, but I am being consumed and stimulated on every level. Mind, body and spirit.
It fills me, inside and out.
Unable to stop myself, I feel my hips list in that dance as old as time. I am going to come.
“Onnhhh!” I am bombarded by one blissful, gutwrenching wave after another of exquisite, relentless pleasure. I want to weep at the intensity of it, but I am helpless.
It has to stop, but I don’t want it to end. I thrash, uncontrollably experiencing an all-over body orgasm like nothing I’d ever experienced in life. Is this heaven? A powerful tug, deep inside, sends another round of sweet undulation through me.
I cry out.
“What am I, Nevaeh?” Death demands.
I pant with my last breaths.
“You!
“Are!
“Allll!”
Chapter One
Neve Brádach opened her eyes. She was floating outside her body, above herself, looking down through the rubble and ruin that just hours ago had been Cairnnon Castle. Centuries-old stones and debris lay on top of her broken body, but somehow, she managed to see through the layers to her physical form below.
Unbelievably, sadness at her own horrific demise was not her first concern.
“Neve! Neve! We’re coming! Don’t give up! I’ll get you out!” It was Arnie Rollison’s frantic voice. The team-leader and her mentor. The man she’d longed to work with for years was now digging desperately with his bare hands. Unguarded tears ran down his dirty cheeks, leaving trails.
She felt sorry for him. He sounded so adamant, so determined. As if he still had hope.
There were tons and tons of wreckage. Even if she were still alive—and she wasn’t convinced that she was—they’d never reach her in time.
Neve laid a hand on his shoulder. “Arnie. Stop, my friend.”
His head twitched, as if he’d heard her, and his frenetic actions ceased for a moment.
“I’m sorry, Neve. I’m so sorry!”
Without warning, she was jerked back inside her body. The pain was dull, not sharp like it had been in the beginning.
Shit! I’m not dead. But I’m goin’ to die in here. I’ve seen the devastation above me.
Death was going to be long and arduous. “Come back to me,” she called Death. “Please come and take me.” But as she lay fading in and out of consciousness and time ticked by, she wasn’t sure if she begged Death to claim her permanently or for it to take her again and again as it had earlier. She longed for the carnal bliss that Death could provide. Her body tingled at the memory as the blackness once again enveloped her.
* * * *
Much later, the heavy equipment continued to dig above her, but she drifted out once more.
The next time she woke, the weight had been lifted from her chest. She opened her eyes, and to her astonishment, she was able to move her arms and legs. She looked down at her limbs.
“What am I wearing?” She let her fingers run over the unfamiliar fabric. “Where am I?” She searched the strange room. She blinked rapidly, confused. Who am I?
Her mind was blank, devoid of all memory.
Noise, like that of a large crowd reached her ears. Gaining her feet, she followed the sound, out of the room and down a hallway.
It seemed like a party. Everyone was in costume. Lit torches in sconces lined the wall, giving the entire area a dreamlike quality.
From nowhere, someone grabbed her. “There ya are. Where have ya been?”
Neve looked up at the man who stared down at her with deep intensity. Unable to stop her reaction, she gasped. He was the most incredible looking man she’d ever laid eyes on. Chiseled, rugged features. Striking, dark eyes. Strong chin. Tall. Muscular. He wore a crisp-looking white linen shirt, baggy trousers, and a blue and green checked sash.
He smiled, obviously sensing her attraction to him.
“Watch that smoulderin’ gaze, my sweet Nevaeh, or I will throw ya over my shoulder, with or without the vows, and take ya to my chambers and ravish ya until ya canna walk.”
Sounds good to me.
“Come. This is our celebration. Let us dance. I want nuthin’ more than to feel ya in my arms.”
He twirled her around and escorted her out onto the ballroom floor.
© H K Carlton
For more from the Lustful Possession Series hop on over to Pick a Genre for a haunting teaser from Part 4 - Rising from the Darkness, or over at Breaking Genre, sample an extract from Book 2, Dark Foursome.
Find The Lustful Possession Series On Sale through October 31st at eXtasy Books and Check out my author page for more savings!
Variety is creativity's playground — it's where you'll find me
October 17, 2019
A Delicious New Short Story - The Only Way to Dance - by Elodie Parkes #EroticRom #99cents Available on #KU
Delicious, new release erotic short The Only Way to Dance
Chrissie wins an interview with a prestigious advertising agency. Fate conspires to make the day difficult. The only bright spot is her meeting with gorgeous Dylan Cross, but who is he, and will their steamy attraction to each other prevent her from having the job she covets?
N.B. This story was previously published as part of Executive Assistant, an anthology of erotic romance from Evernight Publishing.
Available on kindleunlimited
Read a teaser 18+
She looked sexy, pale, a little disheveled, but so pretty.
He kissed her. Chrissie responded with a kiss that sent tingles to his balls and tightened his stomach. Dylan traced the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue. When she opened her mouth and her tongue
met his, the rush of desire that went straight down his body hardened his cock. He explored her mouth and tongue with his. Each touch made his cock jerk and grow until he felt the tip against the waistband of his shorts.
“You know, if this was a movie we’d have sex and the time would fly by, then we’d be saved.” He kissed her between phrases, wondering what she would do if he unzipped her skirt and the shell top she wore so that he could knead her breasts and push his fingertips against her pussy.
The thought brought a low groan to his throat and a pearl of moisture leaked from his cock.
“If this was a movie, you’d lift me up to the trap door in the roof of the elevator and I’d climb out and escape.” She smiled at him.
“I’ll lift you up there, you can check if you want, but I have no idea where you might escape to. That’s never been clear in the movies.” He bent and picked her up under the thighs. It was easy. She was slender and small. Dylan experienced a moment of complete lust when he realized he’d brought her pussy against his face. Even clad in her skirt he could feel the shape of her mound against his cheek as he turned his face a little. He nearly stumbled when he took the step to the center of the floor from the raw need she ignited in him. He pictured sucking her clit, licking her pussy, kissing down the insides of her thighs.
Chrissie laughed and vibrations from her ass on his forearms went straight down into his stomach in waves of desire. He closed his eyes as he moved his face and nestled into her. Her skirt rode up. He bent his head to push his face up under her skirt.
She put her hands on his shoulders. “The trap door won’t move. Dylan, let me down.”
Surrounded by the scent of her skin and the feel of her thighs through the pantyhose she wore, Dylan forced himself to put her down.
She slid down the front of his body, her skirt going up around her waist.
He pulled her against his hips, his hands cupping her ass. He kissed her hard as he lifted her to grind his hard cock against her. “Chrissie.” His whisper sounded like a plea, even to his ears.
She surged up against his body, pushing against him, to return his kiss.
“Yes,” she whispered against his lips.
Copyright Elodie Parkes, 2019BUY the book at .99 cents or read for free with Kindle Unlimited Amazon Universal Link Amazon US Amazon UK Amazon Canada
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October 16, 2019
Character Interview w/ Lucien Dufort from Hard-Pressed by Queenie Black @queenieblackwr1 #BDSM #romance
New Release
Hard-Pressed
Club Hard, 1 byQueenie Black
contemporary, BDSM, erotic romance
Master Lucien has one night at Club Hard.
One night…to show bodyguard Rose Dainty that he can be the Dom she needs,
One night…to show her that submitting to him doesn’t make her weak, that true submission requires strength and trust.
Will pushing Rose to her limits prove to her she can trust him with her body and heart, and can she let go of her deepest fears long enough to enjoy her surrender? `
They both have everything to prove and everything to lose.
Q: Welcome Lucien, thanks for taking the time out of your busy schedule to talk to me today.
L: Bonjour Queenie. It’s a pleasure.
Q: Do you prefer England or France?
L: I feel equally at home in both countries and travel between both, but I must admit that I have a soft spot for France. And of course, French is the language I prefer in the bedroom or when I’m in Club Hard.
Q: Oooo, you’re making me come over all goose-bumpy. (He smiles) What do you look for in a woman?
L: Someone who sees me, the man. Not the business, or the money, or the Dom. Me.
Q: What do you like to do in your spare time? How do you let off steam?
L: I like to play in Club Hard with Rose. Other than that, I run, and I practise martial arts. Mainly Wushu, a Chinese form. Sometimes I cook.
Q: Does it bother you that Rose does MMA?
L: How can it? She loves doing it as I love Wushu. Of course, I don’t like seeing her take hits, unless I’m delivering them, of course. (He shrugs) It’s her choice and I would never try and take that away. Anyway, I get to kiss her better afterwards.
Q: Ahem. Changing the subject, you said you like cooking. Tell me more.
L: I spent some time in a cordon bleu cookery school when I was much younger. I can cook most things and I enjoy putting together ingredients and flavours for friends and family.
Q: Wow. Moving on, are you a tea or coffee person?
L: Coffee. Black. Is there any other way?
Q: Cat or dog?
L: Dog. I have two Irish wolfhounds.
Q: Do you prefer to use the paddle or cane?
L: My hand. It’s far more intimate.
Q: Riiiiight. How did you know Rose was the woman for you?
L: When she walked into my life, quite simply I couldn’t see anyone else. She spoke to something deep inside me. She’s my soulmate.
Q: Favourite ice-cream?
L: I don’t eat it, but I might use it on Rose…hmmm that’s given me an idea for tonight.
Q: Okay, I won’t keep you any longer. Last question, what’s your favourite song?
L: I have too many to pick just one but at the moment I’m listening to Ivory Road by King Charles. Can’t get enough of it.
Q: Thank you!
L: Au revoir
I mounted the six shallow steps and faced the double front doors. Twin carriage lights cast a soft gleam over the brass plaque with its discrete lettering:
Club Hard
Private Members Only
I desperately wanted to run back down the steps, leap into my car, and drive home, but if I did, nothing would change, and I’d go back to dividing my time between working out, Candy Crush Saga, and the occasional night out with my friends. I might miss out on learning something about myself, something that could make a difference in my sex life. Worse, I might miss a chance at love.
I stayed, my feet rooted to the floor, but the insides of my hands were so damp, my finger slipped on the brass bell, setting off a short, discordant jangling. I winced as I rang it again properly this time. That certainly wouldn’t endear me to anyone.
Shifting from foot to foot, trying to keep the blood circulating in my toes, I looked around. Behind me, the gravel drive snaked away to a discreet carpark, and trees and shrubs created shadows within shadows. Autumn had finally reached London and in this exclusive part of it, crisp, clean air and earthy leaf mulch replaced the smell of fast food and exhaust.
I shifted again, starting to get irritated. If you were going to demand a woman wear nothing but a skirt that barely covered her butt, and a top that was little more than a bit of elastic bandage—on me it was ridiculous, if I sneezed, I’d pop out over the top—then you should damn well open the door promptly. Now, despite wearing my warmest coat over the absurd ensemble, there was a distinct draught zipping under my hem and freezing my exposed butt cheeks.
I lifted my finger to stab the bell again, and the door swung open.
Bloody hell. A real butler. I was no stranger to mansions with staff. Working as a bodyguard meant I saw the inside of a lot of wealthy homes, but so far, a liveried butler was a new one to me.
“Can I help you?”
I cleared my throat, wondering if there was any etiquette for addressing a butler, aware that my finger was still lurking in the vicinity of his eye. “Umm, I’m, ah, it’s Ms. Dainty. To see Mr. Dufort. I’m expected.”
He waved me through into a large marble-floored hall with a fire burning at one side. A wide, elegant staircase at the back curved away to the upper floors.
“I’ll inform Mr. Dufort that you’re here, if you’d like to take a seat.” He indicated a collection of sofas and easy chairs huddled as if for warmth around the fireplace. I made a beeline for the heat.
“May I take your coat?”
I crossed my arms tightly. No way was I exposing my scantily clad self. “Ah, thanks, but I’m a bit cold.”
“I see my guest has arrived, Henry.”
I turned away from the fire to see Lucien Dufort crossing the hall toward me. The floor seemed to drop a few inches and I had to grab the back of a chair to steady myself as his delicious, rich chocolate voice with its faint French accent wound around me, setting my heart hammering.
A tall, elegant man, he moved toward me with predatory intent, covering the floor in loose, confident strides, but it was his eyes that held my gaze, dark eyes, sharp with intelligence and power. He wasn’t a handsome man. His narrow-bladed Gallic nose, inherited from his mother, was slightly overlarge for that, but his lips were sensual, and the mix of tenderness and lust in his expression as he looked at me sent electric tingles charging down my spine.
“Rose, welcome to Club Hard.” He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, his tongue flickering into the little hollow between my two smallest fingers, mimicking the act of sex. Normally, that would be an instant turn-off, but when Lucien did it, everything inside me melted. I tugged my hand free and shoved it into my coat pocket. This was bad. We hadn’t even started yet and my hormones were doing a happy dance.
“Your coat, ma petite.”
I undid the buttons reluctantly and he stripped it off my shoulders, giving it to Henry before indicating my feet. “Barefoot, please.”
I obeyed, steadying myself with one hand on Lucien’s forearm. I could have rested it there all day, enjoying the feel of thick bone and the flex of hard muscles, but I quickly unzipped my boots and gave them to Henry, who took them as solemnly as if I was handing him the crown jewels for safekeeping. He disappeared, taking my things with him, and I stood shivering, waiting for Lucien to say or do something. I shouldn’t have felt vulnerable. I fought with this amount of flesh on display, so it shouldn’t have bothered me, yet insecurity and apprehension crept hand-in-hand up my spine. “Lucien?”
He cupped my chin, his palm warm and sure, his thumb stroking my cheekbone in a gesture I found calming. “Tonight, you will address me as Monsieur, or Sir.” His words sank deep inside me, reaching a place I wasn’t aware existed. A place I didn’t want to believe existed. I stepped back, dislodging his hand.
Lucien’s cheek creased in amusement. “So, ma belle perle, the challenge begins. Are you ready?”
Amazon US Amazon UK Amazon Canada Evernight Publishing Smashwords Kobo iBooks
I’ve always loved writing and I won my first prize for a short story when I was still at primary school. I’m an avid reader of romance and erotic romance and can usually be found with my nose in a book. The dynamics and sheer variety of human relationships fascinate me, and this is what I like to explore in my writing. I live in North Yorkshire with my husband and cat where I enjoy running and Tai Chi.
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a Rafflecopter giveaway
Club Hard, 1 byQueenie Black
contemporary, BDSM, erotic romance
Master Lucien has one night at Club Hard.
One night…to show bodyguard Rose Dainty that he can be the Dom she needs,
One night…to show her that submitting to him doesn’t make her weak, that true submission requires strength and trust.
Will pushing Rose to her limits prove to her she can trust him with her body and heart, and can she let go of her deepest fears long enough to enjoy her surrender? `
They both have everything to prove and everything to lose.
Q: Welcome Lucien, thanks for taking the time out of your busy schedule to talk to me today.
L: Bonjour Queenie. It’s a pleasure.
Q: Do you prefer England or France?
L: I feel equally at home in both countries and travel between both, but I must admit that I have a soft spot for France. And of course, French is the language I prefer in the bedroom or when I’m in Club Hard.
Q: Oooo, you’re making me come over all goose-bumpy. (He smiles) What do you look for in a woman?
L: Someone who sees me, the man. Not the business, or the money, or the Dom. Me.
Q: What do you like to do in your spare time? How do you let off steam?
L: I like to play in Club Hard with Rose. Other than that, I run, and I practise martial arts. Mainly Wushu, a Chinese form. Sometimes I cook.
Q: Does it bother you that Rose does MMA?
L: How can it? She loves doing it as I love Wushu. Of course, I don’t like seeing her take hits, unless I’m delivering them, of course. (He shrugs) It’s her choice and I would never try and take that away. Anyway, I get to kiss her better afterwards.
Q: Ahem. Changing the subject, you said you like cooking. Tell me more.
L: I spent some time in a cordon bleu cookery school when I was much younger. I can cook most things and I enjoy putting together ingredients and flavours for friends and family.
Q: Wow. Moving on, are you a tea or coffee person?
L: Coffee. Black. Is there any other way?
Q: Cat or dog?
L: Dog. I have two Irish wolfhounds.
Q: Do you prefer to use the paddle or cane?
L: My hand. It’s far more intimate.
Q: Riiiiight. How did you know Rose was the woman for you?
L: When she walked into my life, quite simply I couldn’t see anyone else. She spoke to something deep inside me. She’s my soulmate.
Q: Favourite ice-cream?
L: I don’t eat it, but I might use it on Rose…hmmm that’s given me an idea for tonight.
Q: Okay, I won’t keep you any longer. Last question, what’s your favourite song?
L: I have too many to pick just one but at the moment I’m listening to Ivory Road by King Charles. Can’t get enough of it.
Q: Thank you!
L: Au revoir
I mounted the six shallow steps and faced the double front doors. Twin carriage lights cast a soft gleam over the brass plaque with its discrete lettering:
Club Hard
Private Members Only
I desperately wanted to run back down the steps, leap into my car, and drive home, but if I did, nothing would change, and I’d go back to dividing my time between working out, Candy Crush Saga, and the occasional night out with my friends. I might miss out on learning something about myself, something that could make a difference in my sex life. Worse, I might miss a chance at love.
I stayed, my feet rooted to the floor, but the insides of my hands were so damp, my finger slipped on the brass bell, setting off a short, discordant jangling. I winced as I rang it again properly this time. That certainly wouldn’t endear me to anyone.
Shifting from foot to foot, trying to keep the blood circulating in my toes, I looked around. Behind me, the gravel drive snaked away to a discreet carpark, and trees and shrubs created shadows within shadows. Autumn had finally reached London and in this exclusive part of it, crisp, clean air and earthy leaf mulch replaced the smell of fast food and exhaust.
I shifted again, starting to get irritated. If you were going to demand a woman wear nothing but a skirt that barely covered her butt, and a top that was little more than a bit of elastic bandage—on me it was ridiculous, if I sneezed, I’d pop out over the top—then you should damn well open the door promptly. Now, despite wearing my warmest coat over the absurd ensemble, there was a distinct draught zipping under my hem and freezing my exposed butt cheeks.
I lifted my finger to stab the bell again, and the door swung open.
Bloody hell. A real butler. I was no stranger to mansions with staff. Working as a bodyguard meant I saw the inside of a lot of wealthy homes, but so far, a liveried butler was a new one to me.
“Can I help you?”
I cleared my throat, wondering if there was any etiquette for addressing a butler, aware that my finger was still lurking in the vicinity of his eye. “Umm, I’m, ah, it’s Ms. Dainty. To see Mr. Dufort. I’m expected.”
He waved me through into a large marble-floored hall with a fire burning at one side. A wide, elegant staircase at the back curved away to the upper floors.
“I’ll inform Mr. Dufort that you’re here, if you’d like to take a seat.” He indicated a collection of sofas and easy chairs huddled as if for warmth around the fireplace. I made a beeline for the heat.
“May I take your coat?”
I crossed my arms tightly. No way was I exposing my scantily clad self. “Ah, thanks, but I’m a bit cold.”
“I see my guest has arrived, Henry.”
I turned away from the fire to see Lucien Dufort crossing the hall toward me. The floor seemed to drop a few inches and I had to grab the back of a chair to steady myself as his delicious, rich chocolate voice with its faint French accent wound around me, setting my heart hammering.
A tall, elegant man, he moved toward me with predatory intent, covering the floor in loose, confident strides, but it was his eyes that held my gaze, dark eyes, sharp with intelligence and power. He wasn’t a handsome man. His narrow-bladed Gallic nose, inherited from his mother, was slightly overlarge for that, but his lips were sensual, and the mix of tenderness and lust in his expression as he looked at me sent electric tingles charging down my spine.
“Rose, welcome to Club Hard.” He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, his tongue flickering into the little hollow between my two smallest fingers, mimicking the act of sex. Normally, that would be an instant turn-off, but when Lucien did it, everything inside me melted. I tugged my hand free and shoved it into my coat pocket. This was bad. We hadn’t even started yet and my hormones were doing a happy dance.
“Your coat, ma petite.”
I undid the buttons reluctantly and he stripped it off my shoulders, giving it to Henry before indicating my feet. “Barefoot, please.”
I obeyed, steadying myself with one hand on Lucien’s forearm. I could have rested it there all day, enjoying the feel of thick bone and the flex of hard muscles, but I quickly unzipped my boots and gave them to Henry, who took them as solemnly as if I was handing him the crown jewels for safekeeping. He disappeared, taking my things with him, and I stood shivering, waiting for Lucien to say or do something. I shouldn’t have felt vulnerable. I fought with this amount of flesh on display, so it shouldn’t have bothered me, yet insecurity and apprehension crept hand-in-hand up my spine. “Lucien?”
He cupped my chin, his palm warm and sure, his thumb stroking my cheekbone in a gesture I found calming. “Tonight, you will address me as Monsieur, or Sir.” His words sank deep inside me, reaching a place I wasn’t aware existed. A place I didn’t want to believe existed. I stepped back, dislodging his hand.
Lucien’s cheek creased in amusement. “So, ma belle perle, the challenge begins. Are you ready?”
Amazon US Amazon UK Amazon Canada Evernight Publishing Smashwords Kobo iBooks
I’ve always loved writing and I won my first prize for a short story when I was still at primary school. I’m an avid reader of romance and erotic romance and can usually be found with my nose in a book. The dynamics and sheer variety of human relationships fascinate me, and this is what I like to explore in my writing. I live in North Yorkshire with my husband and cat where I enjoy running and Tai Chi.
Twitter Website Facebook
a Rafflecopter giveaway
October 15, 2019
A New Dark and Gritty Crime Thriller from Lea Bronsen - Carnivora: Part 1
Hi, and thank you for having me on your blog!
I’ve always been fascinated by dark psychological thrillers that mess with your mind and keep you on the edge of your seat. I toyed with the genre writing my debut novel Wild Hearted, but labeled it a crime drama. Its sequel, Carnivora, evolved over six years to become a full-blown hold-your-breath thriller that deals with grave issues such as kidnapping, child sex trafficking, and self-harm.
Telling five parallel stories with as many voices, it gives you the perspectives of a police informant, a hunted gangster, a mad avenger, an inconsolable girlfriend, and a psychotic kidnapper. I pull no punches weaving these stories, so be prepared for a dark, gritty, and graphic read – a little dirty on the erotic side – that I hope will play with your strings and stick with you for a long time.
Please note that this is part 1 of Carnivora and I am currently working on parts 2 and 3, so if those cliffhangers at the end are killing you, be patient. The continuation is right around the corner!
Blurb
Fight evil with evil.
TOMOR
Crime lord Tomor is serving a life sentence behind bars. Without warning, he’s abducted by mysterious men. A sick manhunt is on, with people around him dying like flies. He will need all his street flair and gangster skills to prevent his loved ones from ending up on the death list.
LUZ
Luz grieves the loss of her lover while striving to take care of their baby. The last thing she needs is to fall for the new neighbor.
DAVID
A year after he betrayed his adoptive father and sent him to jail, David is slowly rebuilding his life. Then everything falls apart again: he learns that Tomor has escaped, and his police connections lead him to a child sex trafficking ring involving cold, powerful men.
The cops are in over their heads with “Project Carnivora” … Perhaps the only one who can help bust the pedophile predators is an equally vicious devil: Tomor, the country’s most hunted criminal.
Available fromBooks2Read / Amazon.com / Amazon.uk / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / iBooks / Smashwords
Put the book on your to-read shelf on GoodreadsSee photos that inspired me to write the book on Pinterest
Excerpt
“Time to change your bandage again,” the nurse mutters, voice cool, and pulls my orange-colored sleeve up to the elbow.
She unrolls the long strip of bandage from my wrist and tugs at one corner of the gauze plastered on my wound. It sticks as if glued to the freshly grown skin, and instead of removing the gauze carefully, she tears if off hard, discharging pain through my arm, wrist-to-shoulder.
I open my eyes and lift my head off the pillow. “What the fuck are ya doing, trying to reopen the wound or something?”
“Like you care.” She stops pulling and glares, gauze between her fingers. “I can see who you are inside. You’re playing tough, aren’t you, bad guy? But you can’t fool me.”
“Shut up.” I lay down again, huffing, and stare at the white ceiling above me with its rows of long neon lights.
“You’re a good man.”
I glance back. “I said, shut the fuck up.”
Her eyes shine. She rips off the remaining gauze, ignoring my grunt of pain, and throws it in a bin. “Look.”
No fuck.
“Look at it,” she insists, voice low and demanding.
No. I know what I’ve done, and I can imagine what it looks like. A six centimeter-long deep, reddish, scratched-up ridge along my artery. Layers of skin, fat, meat, and whatnot must be visible and sweating a pinkish liquid from the reborn pores. I don’t need to see it.
I guess the girl wants me to be so horrified, I’ll never attempt suicide again. That’s right. She wants to shock me into acceptance.
You gotta be fucking kidding me, little thing.
She shakes her head. “I don’t understand why they gave you the life sentence.”
“You mean they shoulda given me the chair?”
Instead of responding to my sarcasm, she pivots to look up at the clock and widens her eyes as if realizing she forgot an appointment. Face tense, she returns to her work, applies some cool, gel-like liquid on the wound, and bandages it with quick routine moves.
What’s up with her? In my three days in this woman’s company, I’ve noted the things that make her tick. Maybe she’s upset because I’m leaving the infirmary soon. Earlier, she said she didn’t know when I’d be ready to go back to my cell. She probably knows now, but doesn’t want to tell me.
The door opens. She jumps.
A uniformed guard pokes his head in, checks the small room, and exits.
She seems frozen in place, features tense. Staring ahead and taking deep breaths as if trying to regain composure.
I cock my head a little. “What’s going on? They gonna transfer me?”
She visibly swallows and fixes her gaze on some point on the wall.
I snicker. “Are you sad ‘cause I’m leaving?”
Ha, I can be so ugly, when the girl clearly likes me.
As she sits there avoiding me, I take the time to check out her tits, and drink in the amazing sight of their pressing against her green blouse with each breath. She doesn’t have a name tag. Come to think of it, none of the personnel do. Evidently, so the inmates can’t identify their ‘caretakers’, and should they by some miracle leave the premises, track them down.
I nod to her blouse. “What’s your name?”
She twists back to me, brows raised, before shaking her head. “I can’t tell you that.”
“C’mon, I’ll never see you again.” I grin, then add with an ironic snicker, teasing her, “They’ll never let me slash my wrists, or hang myself.”
She looks away and busies herself collecting the medical stuff, throwing a quick, almost invisible glance to the door. What the hell is making her so nervous?
Coldness fills my chest. Something’s up.
“Come on, Babe,” I coax with my most gentle, sensual voice, wanting to buy time. “Tell me your name.”
“Why?” she whispers, fidgeting with the roll of bandage.
“’Cause I want a name to your pretty face when I jack off in my cell.”
About the author
Lea Bronsen likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity. After a deep dive on the unforgiving world of gangsters with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between romantic suspenses, dark erotic romances, and crime thrillers.
Meet Lea Bronsen on
Website / Blog / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Goodreads / Amazon / Pinterest
I’ve always been fascinated by dark psychological thrillers that mess with your mind and keep you on the edge of your seat. I toyed with the genre writing my debut novel Wild Hearted, but labeled it a crime drama. Its sequel, Carnivora, evolved over six years to become a full-blown hold-your-breath thriller that deals with grave issues such as kidnapping, child sex trafficking, and self-harm.
Telling five parallel stories with as many voices, it gives you the perspectives of a police informant, a hunted gangster, a mad avenger, an inconsolable girlfriend, and a psychotic kidnapper. I pull no punches weaving these stories, so be prepared for a dark, gritty, and graphic read – a little dirty on the erotic side – that I hope will play with your strings and stick with you for a long time.
Please note that this is part 1 of Carnivora and I am currently working on parts 2 and 3, so if those cliffhangers at the end are killing you, be patient. The continuation is right around the corner!
Blurb
Fight evil with evil.
TOMOR
Crime lord Tomor is serving a life sentence behind bars. Without warning, he’s abducted by mysterious men. A sick manhunt is on, with people around him dying like flies. He will need all his street flair and gangster skills to prevent his loved ones from ending up on the death list.
LUZ
Luz grieves the loss of her lover while striving to take care of their baby. The last thing she needs is to fall for the new neighbor.
DAVID
A year after he betrayed his adoptive father and sent him to jail, David is slowly rebuilding his life. Then everything falls apart again: he learns that Tomor has escaped, and his police connections lead him to a child sex trafficking ring involving cold, powerful men.
The cops are in over their heads with “Project Carnivora” … Perhaps the only one who can help bust the pedophile predators is an equally vicious devil: Tomor, the country’s most hunted criminal.
Available fromBooks2Read / Amazon.com / Amazon.uk / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / iBooks / Smashwords
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Excerpt
“Time to change your bandage again,” the nurse mutters, voice cool, and pulls my orange-colored sleeve up to the elbow.
She unrolls the long strip of bandage from my wrist and tugs at one corner of the gauze plastered on my wound. It sticks as if glued to the freshly grown skin, and instead of removing the gauze carefully, she tears if off hard, discharging pain through my arm, wrist-to-shoulder.
I open my eyes and lift my head off the pillow. “What the fuck are ya doing, trying to reopen the wound or something?”
“Like you care.” She stops pulling and glares, gauze between her fingers. “I can see who you are inside. You’re playing tough, aren’t you, bad guy? But you can’t fool me.”
“Shut up.” I lay down again, huffing, and stare at the white ceiling above me with its rows of long neon lights.
“You’re a good man.”
I glance back. “I said, shut the fuck up.”
Her eyes shine. She rips off the remaining gauze, ignoring my grunt of pain, and throws it in a bin. “Look.”
No fuck.
“Look at it,” she insists, voice low and demanding.
No. I know what I’ve done, and I can imagine what it looks like. A six centimeter-long deep, reddish, scratched-up ridge along my artery. Layers of skin, fat, meat, and whatnot must be visible and sweating a pinkish liquid from the reborn pores. I don’t need to see it.
I guess the girl wants me to be so horrified, I’ll never attempt suicide again. That’s right. She wants to shock me into acceptance.
You gotta be fucking kidding me, little thing.
She shakes her head. “I don’t understand why they gave you the life sentence.”
“You mean they shoulda given me the chair?”
Instead of responding to my sarcasm, she pivots to look up at the clock and widens her eyes as if realizing she forgot an appointment. Face tense, she returns to her work, applies some cool, gel-like liquid on the wound, and bandages it with quick routine moves.
What’s up with her? In my three days in this woman’s company, I’ve noted the things that make her tick. Maybe she’s upset because I’m leaving the infirmary soon. Earlier, she said she didn’t know when I’d be ready to go back to my cell. She probably knows now, but doesn’t want to tell me.
The door opens. She jumps.
A uniformed guard pokes his head in, checks the small room, and exits.
She seems frozen in place, features tense. Staring ahead and taking deep breaths as if trying to regain composure.
I cock my head a little. “What’s going on? They gonna transfer me?”
She visibly swallows and fixes her gaze on some point on the wall.
I snicker. “Are you sad ‘cause I’m leaving?”
Ha, I can be so ugly, when the girl clearly likes me.
As she sits there avoiding me, I take the time to check out her tits, and drink in the amazing sight of their pressing against her green blouse with each breath. She doesn’t have a name tag. Come to think of it, none of the personnel do. Evidently, so the inmates can’t identify their ‘caretakers’, and should they by some miracle leave the premises, track them down.
I nod to her blouse. “What’s your name?”
She twists back to me, brows raised, before shaking her head. “I can’t tell you that.”
“C’mon, I’ll never see you again.” I grin, then add with an ironic snicker, teasing her, “They’ll never let me slash my wrists, or hang myself.”
She looks away and busies herself collecting the medical stuff, throwing a quick, almost invisible glance to the door. What the hell is making her so nervous?
Coldness fills my chest. Something’s up.
“Come on, Babe,” I coax with my most gentle, sensual voice, wanting to buy time. “Tell me your name.”
“Why?” she whispers, fidgeting with the roll of bandage.
“’Cause I want a name to your pretty face when I jack off in my cell.”
About the author
Lea Bronsen likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity. After a deep dive on the unforgiving world of gangsters with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between romantic suspenses, dark erotic romances, and crime thrillers.
Meet Lea Bronsen on
Website / Blog / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Goodreads / Amazon / Pinterest
