Liz Everly's Blog, page 21

Sexy Sunday Snippet: A Heart’s Desire by Kris Michaels

This week we have some hotness from Kris Michaels, the alter ego of a happily married wife and mother who loves to write erotic romance with a twist of military flavor.

About the book:

Agent McKenzie is nobody’s ‘yes’ boy and has the letters of reprimand to prove it. He smells the stink of political maneuvering in this case, and he can see the handwriting on the wall. Hell, the words are three feet high and written in crayon. Someone in his own agency wants a target on Liam Mercier’s back, but McKenzie would be damned if he’d put one there. The damaged man currently in his custody needs his protection, not manipulation. That’s why he’d agreed to use a safe house that was off the grid. Throwing away his rarely used FBI procedure book had nothing to do with the protective urges he felt around Liam. Nope, not a damn thing to do with heavy doses of desire, or spikes of lust. He was just doing his job, after all, he has a killer to catch and a victim to keep alive. Protecting his best bet of taking that sick bastard down was his civic duty.

Forced to face the nightmares of his past or lose his pension, Liam Mercier did the only thing he could do. He walked back into his personal hell. The man assigned to protect him is everything Liam wanted and needed—four years ago. Leaving the small island of sanity he’d been existing on could cost him everything. But being hunted by a genius, sadistic killer without the protection of the sexy, intense, agent was a guaranteed death sentence. Fate had dictated Liam’s course four years ago. The only thing he questioned was when his killer going to finish his work.

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Book excerpt:

Steele pounded up the staircase. Worry tore at him. For the last four days, Liam had been withdrawn. He’d claimed it was a side effect of going off his medication, but in his gut, Steele knew better. Since their first morning together, Liam hadn’t slept more than a handful of hours and barely talked, other than short replies to direct questions. The man literally ran himself into the ground. The intensity of facing what Miller did, not only to him, but also to each of his victims, nearly consumed Liam. Running seemed to help him cope, but without proper sleep and food, Steele honestly didn’t know how much longer Liam could go on.

When Steele tried to comfort him, he’d pulled away, become distant. Doc Morgan said it was a typical response to the stress. She’d held extra sessions with Liam to help him cope with the memories the autopsy reports had dredged up. She’d told Steele that giving the briefing would be a big milestone in his recovery.

Steele wouldn’t classify the briefing today as big. Massive, gigantic, or colossal perhaps. Big didn’t hold a candle to what Liam was dealing with right now. Alone.

Steele knuckled Liam’s bedroom door, opening it without waiting. The room was empty but the sound of the shower drew Steele toward the en-suite bath. Steam billowed out as Steele moved in.

Liam stood naked beside the shower. Silver and red scars decorated his body in a sick twist of ivy and heart scrollwork. Seeing the scars in the daylight and in their entirety filled Steele with anguish and rage.

“This is what he did.” Liam focused on the falling water.

“I know.”

“He took my dignity, my sense of safety. He raped me, physically and mentally. The others didn’t live. He told me I was his special gift from God. He believes we are meant to be together for eternity. He won’t stop. He’ll come for me.” Liam lifted his gaze and Steele witnessed the devastation held in the chocolate-brown depths. “By the time they deciphered my notes and found me, I’d given up. I wanted Miller. When he… I wanted to please him, to be good enough for him so he’d stop the pain. I wanted to be what he said I was.” Liam’s voice broke into a sob.

Steele shut the bathroom door and stripped out of his suit, placing his automatic on top of the hurriedly shed clothes before he crossed the room. His hand fell on Liam’s shoulder but the anguished man didn’t move or acknowledge the touch. “Liam, let me help.” Steele brought his chest to Liam’s back and peppered his shoulders with quick, light kisses.

Liam closed his eyes and nodded his head. A slow, fat tear trickled down his cheek.

Steele continued pouring attention on the man. “Do you know what you are?”

“An abomination. A sick, twisted abomination.” Another tear dropped, traveling the same path.

Steele paused at the comments. Why would Liam think he was the abomination? Miller was the fucking animal. He turned the shattered man toward the bathroom’s full-length mirrored wall. “No, you’re a survivor. Open your eyes, angel.”

Liam opened his eyes and winced at the reflection. Steele slid both arms around Liam’s waist. He belted the shorter man to his body with one arm and snaked the other up his chest, lightly grasping Liam’s jaw. He leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “You’re strong. So damn strong, babe. You did what you had to do to survive. The man you have trapped in your memory isn’t the man I see. You are neither his creation nor his exhibit. You are bruised and a little broken, but you are so much more than what he did to you.”

“I’m not. How can you say that? How can you even touch me?” The anguish and sorrow behind the question nearly floored Steele.

“Because I see you, not what he did to you. You are an amazing man. Dedicated, caring, and so damn strong. When we were together I saw the hot flush of arousal build over your chest and creep up you neck. I saw your eyes darken into the most intense shade of brown, so dark with desire that they’re almost black. And that mouth… Fuck, you are every gay man and straight woman’s dream.”

~~~~~

A Heart’s Desire is available on Amazon and free on Kindle Unlimited.

~~~~~

Kris Michaels believes in meeting life head on…as long as there is an ample supply of coffee, whiskey and wine! She believes love makes this crazy life worthwhile. When she isn’t writing Kris enjoys a busy life with her husband, the cop, and her two wonderful sons. Follow her on Facebook and Twitter and check out her webpage.

 

Sexy Saturday Round Up

[image error]Don’t look now, friends, but we’re midway through July! Yikes, where’s summer going?? You better be sure to set aside ample time for some fun or summer will fade as frighteningly fast as your tan. But don’t worry about having to hunt around for great reads this weekend, ’cause we’ve got you covered. Just check out the fun stuff we’ve gathered below.

From Madeline:

Please do not put glitter in your vagina.

This mom wants you to know that she f*cks.

This one’s for you, Alexa Day: abduction fantasies played out in real life. 

I wanna see Atomic Bomb! How Charlize Theron navigates playing a female spy who kicks ass and takes names.

How you make a relationship work when you identify as a pansexual man and your partner identifies as a lesbian who likes casual hook-ups.

Are your hook ups practicing good hook-up etiquette? Are you demonstrating good boundaries with your hook-ups? See what these women have to say about how they expect to be treated when doing a little bonk-da-bonk with no expectations.

From Elizabeth Shore:

One gutsy woman’s response to a guy trying to rape her – biting off his tongue.

Are you a THOT?

A two-fer: 10 yoga poses that double as sex positions.

Yeah, Dirty Dancing turns 30 this year – but here’s how not to celebrate that.

Finally! Game of Thrones season 7 kicks off on Sunday! Get caught up on everything you need to know before the big event.

And watch the trailer to get yourself in the mood to fly atop dragons and kick some Lannister butt.

 

 

 

 

Bad Ass Heroines In Space

[image error]by Madeline Iva

No more token female characters in sff novels. No more ‘space babes’ in skimpy costumes on the cover. You do not get to use your galaxy kitten for a minor romantic/sexual sub-plot then push her right back into plot obscurity again. Those times are over. Dead. Gone.

Here are two books that emerged from the SFF world fairly recently to provide a punch in the gut for male SFF patriarchy– now rolled up into a fetal position and slowly dying.

First I want to give a shout out to ASCENSION.  I love the cover. I’ve only read the first two chapters so far and saw much that romance readers would want to roll around in.  I’ll use three words to describe Jacqueline Koyanagi’s writing: heartfelt, soulful, longing.

At the same time, ASCENSION is described by others on Koyanagi’s website as “a fun, fast-paced space opera” with a diverse cast of characters. It examines disability and polyamory—“all while racing to save the universe from certain destruction.”

Sounds good to me!

Here’s the low down on the plot:

Our main character, Alana Quick, is maniacal about fixing spaceships. She’s an obsessive grease monkey–even her skin tastes like the metal from ships she repairs. She feels as much lust for a space ship as she does for its hot female captain.  Although Alana has an aunt with medical issues, and a dying business on a harsh planet, she jumps world to stow away on a ship called the Tangled Axon.  The ship’s crew are trying to find her sister Nova–but why? And do they mean Nova harm?

The captain of this ship is a sexy bad-ass woman, the engineer is more of the burly growly type of male. But our heroine definitely has an eye for the ladies. Alana describes her first impression of the Tangled Axon’s captain:

The woman sizzled in front of me, all blond hair, boots, and confidence. She tilted her head at an angle of self-important distain, hip cocked to match. Cargo pants hung below her waist and a white tank top bared her toned arms. […] We locked eyes. Her barbed expression pricked at me from beneath her bangs, as if I were a spot of rust on her ship that had the audacity to sprout up when she wasn’t looking. Muscles pulled at the corner of her mouth. 

The book definitely is going to have romance/sexual elements in it. I can just tell.

However, I haven’t read it yet, just the first few chapters. So check it out yourself! (It’s the start of a series.)

You should definitely buy Ancillary Justice.

ANCILLIARY JUSTICE was the book everyone was talking about last year at Wis Con. It’s the first book in a three book series by Ann Leckie, but it’s definitely a stand-alone kind of read.

The main character in ANCILLARY JUSTICE is an AI. Once a spaceship called Ancillary Justice, the A.I. started off with thousands of “nodes” –i.e. human bodies that the A.I. mentally occupied and controlled–now the A.I. is down to just one body and bent on revenge.

The book starts off with the A.I. rescuing a former crew mate on the final stage of her long cold quest for vengeance–and we’re off to the races.

[image error]The other kicker in this novel–the one that left all the readers I talked to pleasantly a-buzz–was that the A.I. comes from a culture that only uses the “she” pronoun. Everyone from her world is a “she”.

Now, that’s not to say everyone is actually biologically female. The A.I. is no longer in her own society and while talking to other characters from different worlds, we get plenty of clues as to who’s who in terms of man meat and va-jay-jays.

That may sound like a complicated read. It’s not at all – it’s actually easier to read than it is to describe in this blog post, and that’s because Leckie is just one f***ing masterful writer.

Overall the book is engaging. I whiffled right through it in a day and then actually wound up reading it over again because I just wanted to hang out with the characters in that world all over again.

A great read.

A fabulous summer read.

Buy it!

Madeline Iva writes fantasy and paranormal romance.  Her fantasy romance, WICKED APPRENTICE, featuring a magic geek heroine, is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and through iTunes.  Sign up for Madeline Iva news & give aways. [image error]

 

 

 

 

Lord of the Ropes

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Shibari

Dear lovely people–A.C. Rose is with us again. Today she has an interview to share with us that she did with Morpheous aka Lord of the Ropes.

By A.C. Rose

What is it about ropes?

Some people think it is a little cray-cray to want to be willingly tied up. Others are anxious to try it. And there are those who attest to the sensual power of being tied up and vulnerable.

It’s fascinating to see how ropes are not just an integral part of BDSM play, and at-home sexy times, but have been elevated to an art form.

I reached out to Morpheous – that’s Lord Morpheous, to you – a sex educator, photographer, and kinkster based in New York and Toronto who knows the ropes when it comes to ropes. He is author of the new book, HOW TO BE KNOTTY: THE ESSENTIAL GUIDE TO MODERN ROPE BONDAGE. 

His book is a beautifully executed collection of images with how-to instructions that illustrate many creative ways to tie one on.

He also teaches rope safety in the book.

Morpheous has taught workshops and performed rope bondage around the world and is the founder of Morpheous’ Bondage Extravaganza, reportedly the world’s largest public rope bondage event.  His work is included in academic collections and museums, as well as published in a human sexuality textbook. He is also author of How to be Kinky: A Beginner’s Guide to BDSM and How to be Kinkier: More Adventures in Adult Playtime.

If you’ve ever wondered why ropes are such a big part of BDSM, read on.

A.C. ROSE: For those readers unfamiliar, what is rope bondage?

MORPHEOUS: Rope bondage is the practice of tying another person for the purposes of art, or sex, or sensuality; in fact, for whatever reason you and your partner do it! It comes under the umbrella as BDSM and is most often used as a communication between partners, a way of connecting in a sensual manner, of one partner handing control over to another. There is an artistic side though, and one that’s central to how most people do bondage.

A.C. ROSE: Do you have to be a professional to play with ropes or is there a safety course one should take before trying?

MORPHEOUS: You absolutely don’t need to be a professional to start exploring rope bondage, and while I’d always encourage people to have basic first aid training if they’re going to get into bondage (and, in fact, even if they’re not), you can learn everything you need to learn about safety as you learn the basics of bondage. I’ve written several books and each one of them covers bondage basics and basic bondage safety to a different extent. It’s all about communicating well, checking in often and having certain important bits of safety hardware on hand at all times.

A.C. ROSE: Why do you consider modern bondage both art and eroticism?

MORPHEOUS: The rope bondage that we know today is most often a fusion of both the Eastern and Western styles, and one has a more artistic bent while the other is more about restraint. My personal style is certainly a fusion of these two styles—with a creative twist of my own. While modern bondage is very much about restraint for sexual or sensory purposes, the shapes of the body, the shapes of the rope and the different materials used means that there’s an incredible art to it—not to mention to the process of tying itself. Watching a talented rigger tie their submissive is almost as sexual as being tied yourself. The fluidity of the movement, the lines, the patterns, the almost visible chemistry between the two…it’s nothing short of art.

A.C. ROSE: Many people find the idea of being tied up a scary because of the connotation of being tied up, yet some are drawn to it, and find it exciting.  What is the draw to those who like it?

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MORPHEOUS: The draw is, I think, that very vulnerability that some people find scary. To hand yourself over completely to another person is very intense, and it’s that intensity that is at the heart of all BDSM play. Whether you’re being tied or being spanked or letting someone mess with your head, its all based on the trust that you have in that other person—which is why it’s also so important to only play with people who you can trust and who have proven themselves to be trustworthy.A.C. ROSE: When you are working with ropes, are you a master, artist, or hedonist?

MORPHEOUS: I’m all three! The hedonism comes from the thrill of the connection and of the process of bondage; at no point does your desire for sexual contact or the drive to master someone else overcome your consideration for their wellbeing. A good rigger (the person who ties someone else) always, always has safety and security at the forefront of their mind. But then domination of your partner and artistic creativity are also in there too.

A.C. ROSE: There are many different examples in How to Be Knotty. Do you have a favorite technique? And why.

MORPHEOUS: It would be impossible for me to pick a favorite tie or type of tie. My favorite knots and binds change according to who I’m tying and for what purpose. Sometimes you don’t want to engage in intense sex play but you want to feel connected to your partner; the ties that I choose at that point will be very different to the ties I choose for a hot and heavy session. It also changes according to the body type and limitations of your partner. For instance, some people are more flexible than others; some have larger muscles or body parts in certain places, and some just don’t like to have rope across their chests or between their legs or around their hands. The beauty of bondage is that it is so adaptable—and it’s so fun to play with!

A.C. ROSE: Can you explain what ‘sub space’ is and how people get there?



MORPHEOUS: Subspace is the mental space that some submissives reach when they are tied (or when they are otherwise engaged in BDSM play). In subspace you’re consumed by your immediate sensory experience; everything else seems to drop away, and you become serene in the space you’re in, your connection with your rigger front and center of your being. It’s a glorious place to be—although, much like with orgasm, some people find it much easier to reach than others and some might never achieve it.

A.C. ROSE: Once someone is tied, what are some of the pleasures that are administered? Anything goes?

MORPHEOUS: Absolutely not. “Anything goes” isn’t something that should ever be said of anyone engaged in BDSM play of any type. Everyone has boundaries, both physical and mental, and this is a conversation that should ALWAYS be had before you engage in any type of BDSM, especially bondage, and you should also both check in throughout play. You can be very much attracted to the idea of something in theory and then not that into it in reality, and in that case, play should always be stopped.

However, the range of potential pleasures is almost endless! Penetrative sex, non-penetrative sex, sensation play — spanking, playing with pegs, wax, ice, etc.—whatever your partner is into is likely to be heightened when they’re tied. And it’s always fun to find out what they like best!

A.C. ROSE: Is expert rope play one of the more sophisticated aspects of modern BDSM? Or is it just a normal part of the lifestyle?[image error]

MORPHEOUS: BDSM term is an umbrella term for many different types of play, and a lot of kinky folks aren’t into rope play at all. However, when you’re at expert level of anything, I would say you’re moving towards the more intense end of the spectrum. You don’t get to be a master at rope without putting in a lot of time, effort, learning and most likely budget too, and you wouldn’t do anything of that if you weren’t hugely passionate about it.

A.C. ROSE: What is it about rope … that makes it so erotic?

MORPHEOUS: Everything! For me, it’s the smell, it’s the feel, it’s the look of it, it’s the marks that rope leaves on skin, it’s the flexibility and malleability of the material, it’s the colour… and it’s what you get to do with it. There are lots of different types of rope and different materials that rope can be made from, and each one has a whole different atmosphere to it. Personally, I love the traditional textures of hemp and hessian, as these look incredibly retro and hardcore.

A.C. ROSE: Does your local hardware proprietor know what you use it for?

MORPHEOUS: I like to buy from particular artisans and local producers who definitely know what I’m using their wares for. However, I’ve been known to buy emergency gear at my local hardware store and I’ve been there enough and said enough things loudly that if he doesn’t know by now, I’d be surprised!

A.C. ROSE: Do you also like, and partake in, vanilla sex?

MORPHEOUS: Of course! You can’t be kink 24/7, and sometimes after a long week all I want to do is cuddle with my incredible wife and eat ice cream and watch movies and have “nice” sex. However that never lasts too long. J

Thank you to A.C. Rose and to Morpheous for sharing their thoughts on this delicious topic with us today. Here’s a link where you can order HOW TO BE KNOTTY: THE ESSENTIAL GUIDE TO MODERN ROPE BONDAGE. 

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Click to buy.

A.C. Rose is a love, romance, and entertainment columnist and author of steamy romance books. Her Latest book is STAY AFTER CLASS . 

(insert book cover or graphic)

A super hot professor.

A beautiful student ready to swipe her V-card.

A gorgeous, naked art model.

The sketch that links them all.

Amanda Slade has a major crush on her sexy art professor and wants his help with an important extracurricular activity—losing her virginity.

Professor Jem Nichols knows falling for his beautiful student is a bad idea but he just can’t say goodbye as the semester ends. But the professor refuses to hastily take her virtue. Instead, he wants to slowly teach her the most important lessons of lovemaking.

By the time they’re done, he’ll know every inch of her body. But with the pressure building around his upcoming art show and her sexual debut, will Jem be the one to take her all the way?

School’s out, but the love affair is just beginning.

Find A.C. Rose on the web:

Website

http://acroseauthor.net/

Hot Romance column:   http://thethreetomatoes.com/category/love-sex/hot-romance

Subscribe

http://www.acroseauthor.net/newsletter.htm

The ‘O’ in ‘Team’: Would You Hire a Sex Coach?

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You could go all the way. Heyo!

By Alexa Day

Hello, neighbors! I’m hard at work this morning — FOR YOU — but I wanted to leave you with something to think about today. So think about this oldie but goodie from way back when. I’ll catch up to you again soon.

As part of my Post-Tax Clutter Purge and Shred Festival, I gathered up a lot of my old magazines to send to various magazine-seeking charities. Among this year’s odd discoveries were a stash of Cosmopolitans (not sure how those got here), a Playgirl (I know exactly how that got here), a People Sexiest Man Alive issue with Pierce Brosnan on the cover, and the June 2012 issue of GQ.

I got rid of the Cosmos, stashed the Playgirl and the People, and sat down with the GQ. I always enjoy my time with GQ. It’s nice to keep track of high fashion for men because real life is not providing me with useful examples of what erotic romance characters wear. But the June 2012 issue answered two questions for me and raised a third.

Question 1: What is this fascination with Michael Fassbender? The June 2012 issue features a lovely interview with Mr. Fassbender, who is a better looking fellow than I had first supposed. I think I was wrongly blaming him for whatever is now happening to the X-Men movie franchise. I hope he’ll forgive me for that someday.

Question 2: Where has Mark Strong been all my life? Mr. Strong is in the June 2012 issue, too, along with a handful of iconic movie villains. Big as life, with a safety pin in his mouth. He’s been right in front of me, apparently. I spent a little time imagining how the words “right in front of you” would sound in that voice. Then I had a really cold beverage and returned to my reading.

Question 3: Would I hire a sex coach to watch me have sex in the comfort and privacy of my home and then help me out with some pointers? Here’s a link to the article I read about Eric Amaranth. Check it out, along with the best headline ever.

Would I? Would you? Think about it.

Oh, come on. If you had an answer that quickly, you didn’t really think about it. Think about it.

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Tab A in the slot formation.

First, let’s look at this in a general sense. I don’t mind telling you that I don’t know everything there is to know about sex. In fact, I would shy away from people who told me they did know everything there is to know. I’m delighted to report that there’s more for me to know and that the body of knowledge gets bigger every day. I keep a reading list and a little library here. I want to achieve my best possible performance sexually, and why not? I mean, I’m not putting any pressure on myself (heyo!). I just wonder if it’s possible to have more than what I have right now, and I think that’s a nice thing to wonder about.

But would I want a coach right here on the sidelines? Do I want that sort of practical hands-on and hands-off (mine on, his off) study?

I honestly don’t know. Seriously, I can’t answer that question. With the right partner, it might make for quite the experience. Even without a partner, it still has the potential to be fascinating.

And let’s consider our alternatives. There’s book learnin’, which is spectacular but has its limits. There’s personal experience, which is as limited as the person; bedding Tom only teaches you how to bed Tom, and only as well as he knows at the time. It leaves much to learn about bedding Dick and Harry. It also leaves out the things Tom doesn’t know but would like to know if he knew about them.

On top of that, there’s the lure of knowledge for knowledge’s sake. The world offers no more seductive whisper than this: “There’s so much more to learn.”

(Darn you, Mark Strong. Darn you to heckfire.)

So would I? Would you? Let me know what you think.

And remember: there’s no ‘I’ in Lady Smut. Follow us and see.

I Care About You, Stranger: Guest Post by Charlotte Stein

[image error]My lovely Vaginas! We have a treat for you today — Charlotte Stein is here to tell you all about her newest publication.  Lean forward darlings, and soak in the joy. xoxo

I’m here to talk about my latest novel, WAY DOWN DEEP. More specifically, I’m here to talk about the fact that it isn’t just my novel at all. That’s right, I co-wrote it with another author: the fabulous Cara McKenna!

Now, I know what you’re thinking. I know, because before I co-wrote with Cara I used to think exactly the same thing. How do people manage to get something like that going? And the answer is: it was pretty easy really. We were mates, we had similar writing styles. We talked about doing something together. I was scared everyone would hate my style clashing with Cara’s, so totally loved the idea of writing in text messages.

Cara suggested it, and I jumped on it, and here we are. After that, it was easy. The format wasn’t limiting, because we decided to express quite a lot through each message. More like the kind letter writing we often do with our friends through texts. And we gathered readers would appreciate that, because it gives you all the character detail people are used to.

Writing with Cara was a dream and a doddle. We were of one mind a lot, and I very much enjoyed being able to defer to someone else and have that reassurance. Plus she’s funny and kind and I enjoy her company!

Couldn’t ask for more, really.

Ten out of ten, would recommend.

Anyhoo, if you want to investigate the book for yourself, here are the details:

A steamy, deeply emotional tale told entirely through text messages.

Blurb for WAY DOWN DEEP:

The words he typed were never meant to be read, yet they found their way to her. Two wounded strangers, prisoners of their own lives, brought together by a wayward text.

Without ever hearing each other’s voices, a friendship blooms between them. Without ever seeing each other’s faces, an attraction grows. Without ever touching, the two become lovers.

But when words suddenly aren’t enough, will this bond be able to tear down the walls that keep them apart…or was it only ever fantasy?

Amz: http://amzn.to/2tVj88S

B&N: http://bit.ly/2s01r7W

iTunes: http://apple.co/2rYBhCM

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2qRyneS

Amz pb: http://amzn.to/2qY0i0B

CreateSpace: http://bit.ly/2rYohNl

There you have it kittens! Buy WAY DOWN DEEP TODAY.  Follow us at Lady Smut, dear hearts, and Subscribe! –especially if you want to follow more highs and lows of the delightful Charlotte Stein in the future. ; > ;> ;> 

 

 

Sexy Sunday Snippet: At His Mercy by Shelly Bell

This week’s sexy snippet comes from the always awesome Shelly Bell. A sucker for a happy ending, Shelly Bell writes erotic suspense and action-filled erotic thrillers with high-emotional stakes for her alpha heroes and kick-ass heroines.

She began writing upon the insistence of her husband who dragged her to the store and bought her a laptop. When she’s not working her day job, taking care of her family, or writing, you’ll find her reading the latest smutty romance.

Book blurb:

Angel in his arms . . . Devil at her heels

Part of the Forbidden Lovers series.

One last, no-strings night of indulgence. That’s all Tristan wants before he begins a much-needed new chapter in his life. Instead he finds an innocent angel in pink who brings him to his knees.

Isabella is done hiding from the world . . . and her haunting memories. Discovering courage in the arms of a perfect stranger, she finally lets go and sheds her inhibitions.

To Isabella’s shock, she soon learns that Tristan is more than her mystery man-he’s her professor. But Tristan isn’t the only person who’s found Isabella on campus. A dark figure from her past has come back for her. Now Tristan will risk anything to protect Isabella . . . even if it costs him his life.

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Book excerpt:

She took a deep breath and planted her feet, raising her arms straight above her. He looped the rope over a thick tree branch and, within minutes, had both her hands restrained and completely immobile. She’d expected the rope to be scratchy and uncomfortable, but it was surprisingly silky. Caressing.

There was no mistaking that she was scared. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, and her entire body shook. But mixed in there was fervent desire. In this moment, she would do absolutely anything to feel his hands on her, even if that meant allowing him to bind her.

Because the rope itself became an extension of him.

As he crouched to secure her feet with rope and metal stakes that were usually intended for tents, she couldn’t stop herself from looking over her shoulder and scanning the woods around them for any sign of approaching people.

He never stopped to look up, but somehow he saw her anyway. “Whose job is it to make sure we’re not discovered?” he asked, his voice stern and admonishing.

Shame punched her chest. Her action had negated her promise to trust him. “Yours, Tristan.”

“That’s right,” he said, tying the rope so it brought her to her tiptoes. His warm breath drifted over her backside. He kissed her tenderly on her right butt cheek before sinking his teeth into it.

She whimpered, the pain a delicious aphrodisiac that only served to arouse her further. He rubbed his day-old stubble all over her behind, lighting up the nerves until her head rolled back from pleasure.

“Let go,” he crooned. “You only need to do what I tell you.” He stood straight, his covered groin pressing against her spine. “I’m going to make it easier on you.”

She groaned as he moved away from her. He pulled a piece of dark fabric from his bag.

“A blindfold.” She swallowed. “That makes it easier?”

He rubbed the satiny material on her chin. “Your only job is to take what I give you.”

Not asking for permission, he covered her eyes, plunging her into darkness, and tied the blindfold behind her head. Opaque, the fabric completely blocked out everything.

Without her sight, her other senses blossomed. She heard the leaves rustling in the breeze and birds chirping. The sun’s rays shone down on her, heating her right shoulder, while dirt cooled the bottoms of her feet. Tristan’s shoes crunched over the leaves, telling her he’d walked away from her to go to his bag again.

She sensed Tristan’s eyes on her, as if he was greedily drinking in the image of her bound to a tree, exposed and vulnerable. The sound of his footsteps announced his return.

He lifted her hair off her shoulder and pressed his lips there. He cupped a breast in his hand and rolled her nipple between his fingers. She sighed, relieved to finally have his hands on her skin.

A sharp, piercing pain in that nipple stole her breath. “What did you do?”

It felt as if he’d bitten down on her flesh with sharpened teeth.

“Nipple clamps,” he said with a touch of sadistic glee. “How do they feel?”

She was almost about to complain, when she realized the pain had disappeared, leaving a tension on the center of her nipple “When you put it on, it hurt, but now…” The tension morphed into a pleasurable throbbing that radiated outward. “Oh God, it feels so good.”

He played with her other nipple, getting it good and erect before attaching a clamp. This time, she didn’t care about the pain, knowing that in seconds, she’d be rewarded with overwhelming pleasure. He tugged on them, eliciting a spark that shot straight to her pussy. Arching her back, she fruitlessly struggled against the rope. The need to rub her clit consumed her.

“Wait until they come off.” He chuckled darkly, as if he couldn’t wait for it.

How did she not know he was a sadist? Sure, he’d enjoyed spanking and flogging her, but this…this was…amazing.

Crack!

Her head snapped up in alertness. That noise sounded familiar. Did he have a whip? “Is that a—”

“Shh. I’m warming up.”

It was one thing to wear nipple clamps, but whipping was a different story. Her BDSM trainer had explained the amount of pain depended on the kind of whip used and, without her sight, she had no idea what instrument Tristan wielded. “Warming up? I don’t—”

Crack!

“Oh!” The searing bite of the whip sank its teeth into the back of her right thigh, making her instinctively hop up on her toes. Blistering heat wrapped around her leg and arrowed up straight to her pussy.

“Don’t worry about what I’m doing…,” he demanded as he struck her again, this time on her left thigh.

Crack!

“…or what I’m doing it with. Just feel it.” His voice was hypnotic, leading her away from the forest and the whip to the sea, where she floated weightless on the tall waves.

Crack!

The pain was there just under her right butt cheek, but just as it had with the clamps, it changed. Now she welcomed it. Craved it. Because the brief sting was worth the tremendous pleasure that followed. Her whole body pulsed in time with her heart.

She felt alive.

Intoxicated.

Free.

“Accept it and make me proud,” he said, striking her thigh again.

She could do that. She wanted to do that. For him. And more importantly, for herself.

***

At His Mercy is available on Kindle, Nook, and Kobo!

Sexy Saturday Round Up

[image error]Hey sun-lovers! We’ve got some hot stuff for you this week.  Grab that cold drink and get ready to burn up your computer with some fascinating, sexy links.

Free read: Excerpt from Roadhouse Blues by Malin James

Today’s sexy free read comes from Roadhouse Blues by Malin James, to be published by Go Deeper Press on July 11, 2017. The excerpt below is from the first short story in the collection, “Flash, Pop!” Here’s what this short story collection is about:

Welcome to Styx—a blue-collar, American town where people can do whatever they like, so long as they don’t advertise. From a 1950s diner to the back of a rocking Camaro, the stories in Roadhouse Blues reveal sex that is by turns romantic, raw, triumphant, and desperate. Meet two women grieving the same man, a bartender looking for anything but love, and a hot, brash newlywed who knows she married a cheat. The local garage is run by a kick-ass woman who gives as fierce as she gets, and the strip club is a place full of whiskey and smoke, where memories are exposed as easily as skin.

“In the end,” writes author Malin James*, “sex is about people, and people have motivations, and sometimes those motivations surprise them.”

This is Roadhouse Blues. Surprise is just the beginning.

*Malin James quoted by LN Bey at  lnbey.com .

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Roadhouse Blues by Malin James

Excerpt from “Flash, Pop!” in Roadhouse Blues:

Debi has always dreamed of being photographed by the tabloids. This excerpt opens in the magazine section of the supermarket.

“Hey, baby,” Deke had said one day, looking like James Dean if James Dean had a paunch. “Why’re you reading that trash?”

“It’s not trash,” Debi replied all sassy-like. “It’s culture.”

“Culture, huh? That what they’re callin’ Dolly Parton’s tits?”

Debi shrugged. “Whatever you call ‘em, they’re on the front page.”

“That’s nothing,” he’d said, palming a cantaloupe. “You’re way prettier than Dolly’s tits.”

“Yeah, well,” Debi said, flipping her hair so he wouldn’t see her blush. “Pretty ain’t landed me on no newsstand.”

“That what you want? To be a star?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, you look like a star to me,” he’d said, fondling a melon while looking

deep into her eyes. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

Debi rested her hip against the watermelon bin. She could smell his cologne—some cheap drugstore brand, but she liked it. She liked it a lot.

“Deborah,” she said, making the last part stick, “but you can call me Debi. You?”

“Deke, baby. My name’s Deke.”

“Deke? Who the fuck has a name like Deke?”

“A man,” he drawled, “such as myself.”

He’d grinned, big as trouble on Friday night. Debi smiled back—not enough to look desperate. Just enough to show off her dimples. She might not have said it, but the name fit him just fine, from his devil-dark eyes to his broke-down boots. Over the next six months, she’d come to appreciate those eyes, those boots, and every filthy inch in between.

 

One night a week, Debi’s mama watched the kids so Debi could have some “me time”—something she got very little of since Jack, her fucker of an ex, left her for a stripper like the cliché he was. More than a year later, she was still pretty wound up about it. She thought of Deke as therapy. “Me time,” so far as her mama knew, meant dinner at the Elk’s Lodge with her non-existent girlfriends. In reality, “me time” meant meeting Deke at the Pak ‘n Buy so he could fuck her in his Camaro.

She looked forward to “me time” every week.

One night, a few months into her thing with Deke, (because it was a “thing,” not a relationship, no matter how many times he talked about getting hitched), Debi got a text.

Hey, baby. Get on over here. I want to see your pretty cunt.

Debi rolled her eyes. I’ll see what I can do.

Debi liked to think that she held the reins with Deke—she had kids, after all—but cool as she’d played it, her pretty cunt was soaked. Debi dialed her mom.

By the time she got to the Pak ‘n Buy thirty minutes later, she was so hot to trot she’d run two lights. Deke was waiting for her with an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth like a canary feather.

“Hey, baby,” he said, grabbing her for a kiss. Debi pretended to shove him away. She liked to make him work.

“Watch it, Deke,” she said. “I just did my hair. Like it?”

“Yeah, baby. You look good. Real good. Like a wild woman with all those curls.”

It was bullshit, but she loved it anyway so she gave him a kiss for his trouble. Then she gave him a bigger kiss, angling so the bulge in his jeans fit right between her thighs. Goddamn if she didn’t love that …. She pressed herself against him, cunt bare and slick without a scrap to soak her up. Deke ran his hands over her ass.

“You bare under that pretty white dress?”

“How ‘bout you find out,” she purred.

Deke gave her his best Paul Newman smile. Then he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

“Watch it, Deke!” she squealed. “I’m flashing half the Pak ‘n Buy!”

“Shoulda thought of that before you went bare, dirty girl. C’mon. I got you a surprise.”

Debi’s face burned as he carried her into the parking lot, but despite her kicking and hollering, only part of her was pissed—the rest was so horny she just didn’t care. Then she saw the flash. “Deke?”

Deke pat her ass and kept walking. More flashes. Flashes and pops, like a dirty, tabloid dream. Someone had a camera and they were using the hell out of it.

“Deke!? What the fuck?” Debi started kicking for real, but the more she kicked, the more her dress hiked up. She thought of her mama and squirmed ‘til her dress was up around her waist.

Deke gave her ass a playful smack. “Keep kicking, baby! Show ‘em what you got!”

Debi shrieked. “Deke, you bastard! Put me down! They can see everything!”

“Sure can! Smile, baby!” Despite the lazy drawl, Deke picked up the pace as he carried her through the popping lights. By the time they got to his car, she was a mess from trying and failing to kick his ass. He tucked her in the backseat and looked at her with stars in his fucking eyes. “Look at you, baby. You are fucking gorge—”

Debi slapped him so hard her hand went numb. Then she grabbed him by the belt and yanked him down. She should’ve been pissed but she wasn’t, not really, not given the hell she’d catch if her mama found out she was bare-assed in a parking lot instead of “helping a friend.” That didn’t matter, though—not right then. Someone had just photographed her, like she was a person worth photographing. She was horny as fuck in the back of a Camaro, and the look on Deke’s face was her favorite kind of foreplay.

Deke shoved down his jeans. “Come here, baby.”

Debi spread her legs. Then his big cock was deep in her, and she was scratching up his back. To hell with her Gel Tips.

She didn’t expect to come. She almost never did, not from straight-up fucking, but that was okay. Coming almost cluttered the experience. She wanted to soak up as much sweat and salt as she could. She wanted to hear every panting, slick, sloppy squish and bang as they fucked, and she couldn’t do that when she was screaming like a porn star. Except, Debi realized, she kinda was screaming like a porn star. Then Deke’s phone buzzed and he stopped.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” she whined.

Deke checked his phone. What he saw made him grin. “Don’t worry, baby. It’s just your surprise.”

Deke gave her the phone and started thrusting, sweet and slow, while she scrolled. There she was, peeking through her wild-woman curls…there was Deke’s hand, big and strong against her pretty, dimpled ass…and there was her cunt, glistening like candy in that bright, tabloid light. Her face burned as she stared at her body, exposed like a stranger’s, lush and ready to fuck. It was the sexiest fucking thing and it hit her like rum and Coke. Debi started to come. “Fuck. Oh, fuck! Deke!”

Deke grunted and nailed her as hard as he could while she wailed and shrieked and clutched the phone. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt those flashing lights, saw herself through that big, sexy lens.

About the author:

Malin James is an essayist, blogger, and short story writer. Her work has appeared in Electric Literature, Bust, MUTHA, Queen Mob’s Tea House and Medium, as well as in podcasts and anthologies for Cleis Press, Sweetmeats Press and Stupid Fish Productions.

Roadhouse Blues will be available for purchase on Tuesday, July 11, 2017, via Go Deeper Press.

A Dirty Job Calls For Dirty Sex…Heroes Who Drive a Tractor

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Click to buy.

by Madeline Iva

Men who drive tractors kinda get me hot.  I like their competence combined with patience and persistence.  I’ve worked on a farm. I’ve shoveled shit, stacked hay bales, emptied ice out of water buckets with a hammer.  Hard muscles come from daily physical labor, and a soul-aching beauty from the quiet surroundings. Yet ripping treasure from the soil is never easy. There’s a psychological hardiness men on tractors require. A serious weather event at the wrong time can ruin an entire crop in a matter of hours.  The farmer must resign himself to fate, bow his shoulders before mother nature, and plow on.

There’s a whole new generation of men and women in their twenties and thirties who are junking the city life and headed for the fields.  Will they stick with it? What happens to us all if they don’t? In the real world only 1% of the U.S. population farms now.  I think I read somewhere the average age of farmers in America is, like 67, or something. We need a new generation of young farmer heroes more than ever.

Sarina Bowen’s book BITTERSWEET and Adriana Anders book IN HIS HANDS both contain hot men who drive tractors. Here’s more about them–plus some extra goodies.

I found out about Sarina Bowen’s book after Adriana Anders wrote this HEA blog on BEGINNER’S GUIDE  TO DARK GRITTY SEXY READS. “…if you like rugged, hard-bodied farmers (and Lord knows I do), then Bittersweet will be your poison.”

Okay then!  Ya hooked me, Adriana.  I just started the book myself–here’s a blurb:

[image error] BITTERSWEET

Farmers make the earth move.

The last person Griffin Shipley expects to find stuck in a ditch on his Vermont country road is his ex-hookup. Five years ago they’d shared a couple of steamy nights together. But that was a lifetime ago.

At twenty-seven, Griff is now the accidental patriarch of his family farm. Even his enormous shoulders feel the strain of supporting his mother, three siblings and a dotty grandfather. He doesn’t have time for the sorority girl who’s shown up expecting to buy his harvest at half price.

Vermont was never in Audrey Kidder’s travel plans. Neither was Griff Shipley. But she needs a second chance with the restaurant conglomerate employing her. Okay—a fifth chance. And no self-righteous cider-making lumbersexual farmer will stand in her way.

They’re adversaries. They want entirely different things from life. Too bad their sexual chemistry is as hot as Audrey’s top secret enchilada sauce, and then some.

Oh, hey: Read the first chapter!

I also found this on Sarina Bowen’s website — a breakdown of all her books by their tropes.  Hilarious–but useful too, if you’re looking for a certain kind of read. (Ooooh look: virgin heroes!)

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Click to buy.

Adriana, meanwhile, has quite the farmer-boy hero: he’s burly, beardy, and brooding.  I love a romance that starts off with that kind of desperate feel, and a hero guy who’s doing his own thing and just wants to be left alone. Luc is also French and grows grapes.  So, you know, sexy and sophisticated.  And dirty.  Yum!

I buzzed straight to the part of her website that said:  Need some sexy winemaker hero inspiration to tide you over? Check out Luc’s Pinterest Board here!

So, um, that’s where I’ll be for the next hour. ; >  IN HIS HANDS has gotten a **lot** of good reviews.  You can’t go wrong with the other books in Adriana Anders’ series either — a fav of mine is BY HER TOUCH.  Another super-broody hero–this time, he’s got tattoos, a motorcycle,  a secret, and bad men out to find him.

[BTW, even though it’s a series–cause it’s all taking place in the same area with a few cross-over characters–the books really stand alone,  I swear. So feel free to start with book three or book two if you want.]

IN HIS HANDS

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He is Her Salvation…

Abby Merkley has been a member of the Church of the Apocalyptic Faith since she was a child, and there’s no way out–except death. She will fight the odds to survive, but there’s no one in the world she can trust, nowhere she can run that the cult can’t find her…until her handsome, brooding neighbor takes her into the safety of his arms.

Luc Stanek craves a quiet life. But he doesn’t hesitate when a desperate woman lands, bloodied and branded on his doorstep. Soon he finds himself drawn into her chaotic world, caught in the center of an apocalyptic war…and determined to save the fierce beauty no matter the cost.

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Oh. My. God.

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Hot beardy goodness and lots o Gerard Butler on Adriana’s Pinterest page. Click to go there.

Out August 1, 2017 

Follow us, dear readers, and we’ll pour the luscious fruits of our blogging labors in your lap every day.

Madeline Iva writes fantasy and paranormal romance.  Her fantasy romance, WICKED APPRENTICE, featuring a magic geek heroine, is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and through iTunes.  Sign up for Madeline Iva news & give aways.