Thursday, September 21, 2017

Conquering the Party Wall (#lesfic #eroticromance #opposites @IamCheyenneBlue)

By Cheyenne Blue (Guest Blogger)

Party walls are a necessary part of a lot of modern modern living, and it seems most people have a horror story to share about a neighbour from the other side of the dividing wall. Paper-thin interior walls are a bad match when your neighbour always seems to vacuum at 3.00am. Or your morning aerobics wakes your neighbour too early. Barking dogs, noisy sex, differing musical tastes, parties, and even the lark versus night owl can all lead to stress.

I’ve heard of great tales and long-friendships arising around the party wall too. In Melbourne, years ago, I ended up with half a dog thanks to the party wall. My neighbour had a Jack Russell terrier called Feedback (his owner worked in radio). The old terrace houses we lived in were rather decrepit, and when Feedback’s owner went off to his late afternoon shift, Feedback would climb a rather convenient loquat tree by jumping from branch to branch until he was level with the top of the fence. He’d then take a flying leap into my back yard and come trotting in through the open door for some late afternoon company after I’d returned from my nursing shift. He was unable to return to his side of the fence, but when he heard his owner come home, he’d bark at the party wall so that his owner knew where he was.

We shared Feedback for a couple of years: mornings with his official owner, afternoons with me. We ended up putting a doggie door in the party wall to make it easier for him.

My latest lesbian romance novel Party Wall is about two very different women with two very different attitudes to life, who have to live and work side-by-side separated by the flimsy wooden wall between their premises. Lily’s dream has been to run a sex shop and space where women can come and embrace the physical side of their lives in a positive and caring way. But she soon runs up against her neighbour, Freya, whose new-age store and yoga studio are the antithesis of Lily’s shop.

Or are they?

I hope you’ll decide to give Party Wall a go.


From the moment Freya looks in the window of the brash, new sex shop in Grasstree Flat she knows it will be nothing but trouble. For a start, it will clash with her own New Age store right next door. And she’s right. Outgoing newcomer, Lily, begins to intrude on Freya’s well-ordered life. Freya’s friends, lifestyle, and even her cat are all affected by Lily’s magic touch. Even Freya’s yoga classes rub shoulders with Lily’s sexual-expression workshops. Lily stands for everything Freya has lost in life: playfulness, spontaneity, and delight in the physical. And sex. But does Lily have more in common with Freya than the wall that divides them?

A lesbian romance about crossing the lines that hold us back.


The sun reflected off the window, obscuring the view of the shop inside. Still, Freya was hyper aware of the products on display. She shuffled her feet and coughed, but didn’t move towards the door. In the window, she caught the reflection of Carly’s easy smile, as if she frequented sex toy stores all the time. Freya moved to one side. Now the sun slanted low, slicing through the glass. A mannequin wearing red-and-black, skimpy, lace underwear caught her attention.

Tasteless,” she muttered.

Carly glanced sideways at her. “I’ve seen worse in the chain stores in Mackay. I think it’s sexy. I’d wear it—if I were ten years younger and ten kilos lighter.”

Freya sniffed. “There is so much inherently wrong with that statement. What you wear shouldn’t be determined by an outside opinion of what looks good. Your self-worth isn’t dependent on another’s approval—”

Okay, okay.” Carly’s interruption was tempered with a smile. “I didn’t mean it quite like that.” She pointed to a discreet sign in the corner of the window. “‘A woman’s pleasure is in her own hands.’ Clever.”

Why don’t they just show a purple dildo and be done with it.” Freya took a tiny step towards the shop next door. Her shop.

Carly shrugged. “No doubt there’s some law against it. When did you last see more than lingerie and posters in a sex shop window?”

I’m not in the habit of looking.” Freya’s voice was riveted steel. “I’m surprised you are.”

I don’t often.” Carly grabbed Freya’s hand and pulled her back towards the window. “After all, we don’t get much chance living here, do we? The last sex shop I saw was in Brisbane when Andy and I went down for the rugby. But that wasn’t like this—it appeared to cater mostly to men. This one seems different.”

In Freya’s jaundiced opinion, that was like calling a spade a manual digging implement. “It’s all the same. Catering to the baser instincts of men. Objectifying women. Turning them into sex objects.”

Carly turned to face her, and Freya caught the little wrinkle between her eyes. Good. Maybe she was getting through to her friend. This shop was everything she found repellent. Its silver-and-purple paintwork shone garishly in the sun. The wide window showed only the paltry display and a backdrop of black-and-silver cloth blocking the rest of the shop from view. Probably a good thing. Who knew what was behind those folds and artfully arranged drapes? The mannequin was on the left, and the sign Carly had noticed was propped up on the other side. The middle was empty, a blank canvas for… Freya shuddered. What would end up there? She already knew she wouldn’t like it.

Her gaze moved right, to her own shop window. A Woman’s Spirit. She narrowed her eyes and saliva filled her mouth. Even the name of the next-door shop, A Woman’s Pleasure, was offensive, being so similar to her own. Her shop front was tasteful, painted the silver-green of gum leaves. Nothing stopped a passer-by seeing inside; indeed, the wide window drew the gaze inwards to the welcoming warmth of racks of books and tarot cards, to the stands of bright clothes, the shelves of crystals and pottery.

It’s great that there’s a tenant.” Carly rested her forehead on the glass and shaded her eyes, trying to peer inside. “It’s been a couple of months since Diane moved to the coast. It can’t have been good for your business, having a vacant shop next door.”

Freya snorted. “Better a vacant space than this. Diane’s organic produce shop and mine complemented each other—we got a lot of cross trade. I doubt there’ll be any now.”

You might be surprised.”

Unlikely. But it doesn’t matter. This shop won’t be here long. I’m surprised the council approved the permit.” Freya’s gaze shifted to the window, where the permit was taped to the glass. “Maybe I should check that they actually did.”

Carly huffed a breath. “I think you’ll be wasting your time. There’s no way the owner could get away with it in a town as small as Grasstree Flat.”

Freya shrugged. “Maybe that’s what they’re relying on.”

Honestly, Freya? Drop it. I’m sure it’s fine. Try and give the owner the benefit of the doubt. They’re new in town, it’s a new business. Surely it’s better for you and your shop if they make a success of it.” Amused exasperation tinged Carly’s voice.

In front of the two women, the black-and-silver backdrop twitched, saving Freya from answering. A hand appeared through the gap and placed down some stands, the sort that might support signage or photographs. The hand was tawny, with short, manicured nails. Two silver rings glinted on the fingers.

Carly nudged Freya. “See? A woman owns it.”

I gathered that already.” Freya pointed to the sign that was already nagging in her head, an irritant not to be forgotten, like a mozzie bite on a hot summer day. “I doubt a man would run a store called ‘A Woman’s Pleasure’.”

Not necessarily.”

The hand adjusted the position of the stands. A forearm extended through the curtain, then withdrew.

I’m going to ring the council.”

And say what?” Carly said in a neutral tone. “That you think the new owner is breaking some law you’re not aware of? The window is tasteful, Frey. I quite like it.”

It’s only remotely all right now because it’s mostly empty. You wait, that mannequin will only be the start.” Her fingers twitched with the urge to rant some more, but she controlled it. Deep breaths. A slow inhale, hold that breath, and then let the tension of the moment expel in the whoosh of air through her mouth. She would not let this shop get to her.

On Freya’s third exhale, the curtain dividing the window from the rest of the shop was pulled to one side. The owner of the hand came into view. The lighting behind her was dim, only enough to show a smooth-skinned arm, a full shoulder, and the curve of neck and breast. The woman wore a yellow singlet, and a bird’s wing of smooth dark hair hung down, obscuring her face. In the dimly lit shop, she was bronze and sunshine, her top standing out brightly against her dark skin, a beacon in the shadows.

The woman placed a handful of lingerie in the window. She piled it in a bunch, with no attempt at display. A froth of lace and bright colours mixed with the darker sheen of satin or silk, something smooth and luxurious. She reached behind her and brought out another sign, which she propped on the stand she’d placed earlier: Sensuous Reading for Women.

Dirty books. Porn.” Freya grasped Carly’s arm as a prelude to urging her away, into the safety of her shop.

The woman in the window straightened and saw them looking. She smiled hugely, her grin spontaneous and infectious under high cheekbones. Carly grinned in response, and Freya’s own lips twitched before she schooled her features back to disapproval. The woman gestured to them with a smile that obviously meant “come inside”.

Available from these places:

And from October 4 on the Amazons:,,,

Cheyenne Blue is the author of four romantic lesbian novels with the fifth due out in June 2018. Her most recent release, Party Wall is now available from Ylva Publishing along with her Girl Meets Girl” series of interconnected novels.

She is the editor of Forbidden Fruit: stories of unwise lesbian desire and First: Sensual Lesbian Stories of New Beginning. Her short lesbian erotica is collected in three volumes of Blue Woman Stories. She lives in a small house with an enormous deck in a rural area of Queensland, Australia. Check her out at on Facebook or Twitter.

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

All the wealth in the world can't buy surrender (#MFRWHooks #BDSM #Historical)

Challenge to Him cover

Happy Wednesday! It’s time for another Book Hooks blog hop. My snippet today comes from my historical romance novella Challenge to Him. Hope you enjoy it! After you’re done, do use the links below to visit some of the other authors sharing their work today!


All the wealth in the world can’t buy willing surrender.

Andrew MacIntyre, heir to a vast empire of railroads, mines and mills, is the second or third richest man in America, and by far the most eligible bachelor among the society folk summering in Newport, Rhode Island. His mother has filled their opulent mansion with marriageable daughters of bankers and industrialists, but Andrew knows none of these callow young women can satisfy his perverse sexual needs. No respectable girl would ever consent to being bound and beaten, to serving and obeying him the way he craves. His money gives him the freedom to purchase anything except his heart’s desire—a submissive partner to share his life.

Independent, progressive and well-educated, labour activist Olivia Alcott has dedicated herself to improving the lot of the workers who toil in the factories that have made Andrew and his class so wealthy. The strike she organises triggers a confrontation between her and the handsome billionaire. Although their disparate backgrounds and values make them natural foes, something stronger draws them to one another—an intuitive recognition of complementary fantasies. Andrew offers Olivia a bargain—better working conditions for the mill staff, in return for a weekend of her unquestioning obedience. Olivia will help him deflect the attentions of the potential mates assembled by his mother, as well as providing more intimate services. Given Olivia’s origins, a more enduring relationship appears impossible—but Andrew is not the sort to give up something he wants.

The Hook

Mademoiselle Olivia!” A skinny girl raced up the street that led to the riverside mill, stirring clouds of dust. “Il vient! He is coming!”

The sputtering racket of an internal combustion engine drowned out the girls excited voice. The crowd parted like the Red Sea for a boxy vehicle of shiny black, with silvery headlamps like extruded eyes. The noisy Studebaker rolled to a stop in front of the strikers, who stopped in their tracks like everyone else to stare at it.

The door creaked open. A tall man unfolded himself from the somewhat cramped interior, snatched off his hat and goggles and tossed them into the vehicle. He strode towards the massed strikers, his fists clenched at his sides.

Where is she? Where’s your damned leader?”

The newspapers generally described Andrew MacIntyre as handsome. The epithet did not do him justice. As he stormed towards her, Olivia was struck with a sense of physical power and keen intelligence. He had wavy red-gold hair, a high forehead, a square chin, a determined mouth. His eyes were hazel, deep set under brows darker than his hair. Those eyes drilled into her, fierce and compelling. The women around her shrank backwards in alarm. Olivia steeled herself, holding her ground and fighting the urge to grovel at his feet. Instead of retreating, she took a step forward, holding out her hand.

Mr Andrew MacIntyre, I presume?” She marveled at the steadiness of her voice, the cool neutral tone.

Damned right. And you are…?”

Olivia Alcott.” She pulled herself up to her full height and forced herself to meet his gaze. She saw anger simmering there, but behind his irritation there was something else, something that intrigued and thrilled her. Something that she might be able to use to further her goals. Olivia Alcott recognised lust when she saw it.

He towered over her by at least a head. Though his body was hidden by his loose touring coat, his decisive, economical movements suggested he was lean and athletic. For a moment he hesitated, staring at her proffered hand. When he finally accepted it, his firm grip confirmed her impression of strength. His palm felt warm and dry against hers. She suddenly wished that she were not so sticky and disheveled. When he released her, a momentary lightness swept through her, as though she might float away.

And can I assume that you are the instigator and cause of this illegal strike, Miss Alcott?” He seemed flustered, less confident than she would have expected. Her spirits rose.

Instigator? Perhaps. But not the cause.”

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Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Review Tuesday: Golden Shana by A P von K'Ory (#bdsm #billionaire #romance)

Golden Shana cover

Golden Shana: The Chase by A P von K’Ory
AuthorMeProfessionals Press, 2015

With his impeccable style, muscular physique, chiseled features and hypnotic blue eyes, Roman Alastair Northcott Broughton Castell is drop-dead gorgeous. He’s also the billionaire CEO of a worldwide logistics company, built from the ground up through his intelligence and hard work. With charm, guile, expensive gifts and judiciously bestowed carnal pleasure, Roman believes he can conquer any woman, but he’s determined not to commit to anyone. When a female takes his fancy, he pursues her relentlessly. Once she’s fallen into his net, he requires her to sign a contract acknowledging the no-strings nature of their relationship. According to his standard agreement, either one can terminate the connection at any time. Somehow it’s always Roman who grows bored and seeks out a new diversion.

Then one night at the La Scala opera house in Milan, everything changes. As Roman escorts his lovely, curvaceous current lady Marie to a performance of “Turandot”, he catches sight of a honey-haired goddess of a woman who strikes him dumb with desire and need. His charm deserts him; he’s hopelessly befuddled by the stranger’s elegant poise. As she drives away in her limo with her friends, however, he vows he will win her, no matter what the price.

You probably think you know this story, yet another installment in the endless series of billionaire romances that litter the pages of Amazon. If that’s what’s going through your mind, though, you’re wrong. Aside from its classic, overwhelmingly alpha hero, Golden Shana: The Chase is refreshingly original. The relationships are far more tangled than in the typical romance, and the story much less predictable.

Shana, the mysterious stranger, might well be more alpha than Roman. Raped by her boyfriend when she was a teen, she has no interest in sexual relations with men, though she acts the dominant role in her lesbian love affair with close childhood friend Alyssa. She puts Roman in his place, making it clear that she will not necessarily surrender to him just because that is what he demands.

Discarded by Roman as he sets off to pursue Shana, Marie serenely believes that her love for him, plus his baby which she’s carrying, will ultimately bring him back to her.

Meanwhile, the rapist, despite being tortured and left for dead by Shana’s family, has somehow survived. Having constructed a new identity, the Phoenix (as he calls himself) is obsessed with reclaiming His Girl.

The book is set in Europe – Hamburg, Geneva, Montreux, Milan – and the author obviously knows these places well. All the characters are wealthy, so they spend their time in elegant restaurants, exclusive spas, glittering shops and upscale malls, in galleries and at the opera. Nevertheless, this glamorous world struck me as far more believable than the settings in most books in the billionaire genre. For one thing, the rich characters actually work for a living, to maintain and enhance their status. For another, there are gradations of wealth. Roman’s security major domo Robert is rich in his own right, though far less well off than Roman. Meanwhile the resources of Shana’s extended family dwarf Roman’s own, and he feels correspondingly chastened.

As alpha as he is, Roman is no cardboard cutout Dom. He’s self-centered, but generous and mostly honest. He doesn’t promise what he can’t or won’t give. He deeply loves his mother, detests his half-siblings, respects the competent minions with whom he has surrounded himself. He can be cruel, but that’s not his fundamental nature. He is, despite his usual self-confidence, only twenty nine, and sometimes he acts his age.

Unlike most romance, this book really focuses on the male protagonist, not the female. The book might, somewhat facetiously, be titled “The Dom’s Come-uppance”. The author convincingly portrays Roman’s confusion and attempts to adapt when the sudden cataclysm of love at first sight shatters his world and calls all his assumptions into question.

From one chapter to the next, the novel adopts the point of view of various characters, but only Roman’s chapters are presented in the first person. As he struggles to understand and accept his love for Shana, and plots what to do about it, one almost feels sympathy.

Almost. I know every author loves her own characters, but I couldn’t bring myself to really like Roman. He’s just too arrogant and selfish for me. In particular, I fumed at the way he treats Marie after she reveals that she’s pregnant. If I were she, I would have thrown his contracts in his face and gotten a restraining order. I couldn’t believe she’d accede to his demeaning demands.

Likewise, I found Alyssa’s infatuation with the billionaire inexplicable, given the way he manipulates and uses her.

But that’s not a criticism of the novel itself. Despite my frustration with Roman, I continued to read, eager to discover what would happen next. The book has a hopeful ending (from Roman’s perspective) but is by no means HEA. Meanwhile, threats lie in wait (particularly in the person of the Phoenix), threats that Roman will clearly have to confront.

Golden Shana: The Chase is competently written, but it bears the hallmarks of a relatively inexperienced author – an excess of passion, with occasional lapses of craft. It seems that unlike me, A P von K’Ory really does love Roman.

The structure is uneven, with characters disappearing for many chapters, then suddenly popping up again. The first half of the book includes some intensely arousing sex scenes. I realized to my surprise that the second half of the book contains almost no sex at all. I say surprised because I didn’t miss it. I was too involved in the story.

Given my fascination with BDSM relationships, that’s a compliment.

In fact, I’m tempted to get a copy of the second half of the story (Golden Shana: The Capture), just to see how things play out.

Monday, September 18, 2017

No more Mr. Nice Guy! (#pnr #BBW #erotic @TinaDonahue)

Freeing the Beast cover

Available for preorder now! Releases October 17.


Book one in the Taming the Beast series

No more Mr. Nice Guy.

For Becca Salt being a witch isn’t all magic. Too curvy and lonely, she spends her nights running a makeover service for demons, vamps, weres and zombies who want to project a more human, normal side. Their goal? To get the babes without the authorities hunting them down like rabid dogs. Once Becca suppresses the worst of their beast, they’re on the hunt and gone.

Dating has been a definite bitch for Eric Diletto. Although he’s hot and hung, he’s also one of Cupid’s descendants—a god born to believe in courtship, courtesy and all that other junk. Tired of women dumping him for the bad boys, Eric hires Becca to release his inner beast. Grrrr.

Two potions later, they’re crawling all over each other. With Eric’s newfound dominance, he’s definitely the man. And the god, who intends to take Becca here, there and everywhere. Who said sorcery and love wasn’t fun?

WarningA witchdoctor’s nightmare. Contains potions with weird side effects, a sorceress with limited magical skills and a yearning heart, plus a minor god who wants to get down and dirty. Bad, bad boy.


She fingered her top. “What are you?” He wasn’t a demon or a vamp. However, a were or other shifter wasn’t implausible. “Exactly what?”

I’m Eric. Di-let-to.”

He’d pronounced his last name ultra slow, as though that should mean something to her.

It wasn’t ringing a bell. “Okay.”

No, it’s not. I haven’t always gone by Eric. I changed my first name when I was twelve. Got tired of having to fight the other kids, you know?”

Becca did. She’d had her own scuffles when anyone had dared call her fat. Compassion and tenderness for him mingled with her building lust. “Tell me your real first name. Please.”

He sagged to the sofa. “You’ll laugh.”

Never.” She hurried around her desk.

He leaned away from her.

Becca stopped. No way did she want him to feel more unglued than he already was or to make a fool of herself by being too forward. “I don’t make fun. I don’t bully. I had enough of that when I was a child to know how much it hurts.”

He nodded sympathetically. “The other kids made fun of your hair, huh?”

No.” She curled her upper lip. “There’s something wrong with my hair?”
He held up his hands in appeasement. “Not at all. I really like the color and the way you wear it.” He gestured to his own head to demonstrate her bob and bangs. “It’s great.”

Sure, and Santa Claus is a card-carrying Communist. “The other kids made fun of my weight.” There, she’d said it. Little need to pretend there wasn’t a four-ton elephant in the room.

Really?” He took her in, loitering on her ample cleavage and curvy hips. “I don’t see how. You’re perfect. Most women today are too skinny.”

Honesty shone on his face.

Becca liked that and what he’d said. “What’s your real first name?”

He lay on the sofa, arm draped over his eyes. He looked like a patient unwilling to confess his innermost thoughts to a shrink.

Come on.” She used her gentlest tone. “We can’t help you if you don’t tell us what the problem is. It can’t be that bad.”

Wanna bet? My real first name is Eros.”

About Tina

Tina is an Amazon and international bestselling novelist in erotic, paranormal, contemporary and historical romance for traditional publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. Three of her erotic novels were Readers' Choice Award winners. Another three were named finalists in the EPIC competition. One of her erotic contemporary romances was chosen Book of the Year at the French review site Blue Moon reviews. The Golden Nib Award at Miz Love Loves Books was created specifically for one of her erotic romances. Two of her titles received an Award of Merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competition. Another two won second place in the NEC RWA contest (different years). Tina is featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production company in Story Direction.

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Sunday, September 17, 2017

Sizzling Sunday: The Ingredients of Bliss (#BDSM #menage #SizzlingSunday)

Sizzling Sunday banner

Ready to sizzle? It’s Sunday again, so I’ve searched out another X-rated excerpt for your reading pleasure. If you’re not comfortable with explicit fiction – maybe you should visit someone else’s blog!

Today’s sizzling excerpt is from my BDSM ménage novel, The Ingredients of Bliss.

One sexy French chef. One kinky American TV producer. One ambitious Chinese gal who thinks she wants them both. The ingredients of bliss? Or a recipe for disaster?

Oh! That tickles!I jerked as Harry brushed the feather duster over my bare buttocks. He had arranged me in one of his favorite positions, on my belly with my hips elevated by a pillow. Tonight hed also spread my legs and tied my ankles to the corners of the bedfor greater accessibility, hed asserted with a cheeky grinthough hed left my arms unbound.

Oh, pleaseoh, no!His fluffy instrument of torture whispered its way along my rear crevice then fluttered against the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.


I writhed, trying without success to escape the maddening brush of the feathers. My frantic struggles ground my pubis against the supporting cushion, further stimulating my already aching clit. If only hed stop teasing! I was desperate to feel him inside me again.

Be still, slut!” He landed a solid slap on my bum. The sting provided a brief, welcome relief from the unbearable tickling. “Or would you prefer the strap?”

I think I would, to be honest.”

Well, to be honest, I enjoy seeing you squirm. You look delicious.He traced the feathers up my spine.

I couldnt help myself. I reached behind me to snatch the irritating duster away from him and toss it to the floor.Oh, Emily, youll pay for that! What a naughty sub you are!

Instead of punishing me, though, he straddled me and trailed a line of tantalizing, wet kisses up my back. Settling his familiar weight on top of me, he nuzzled the spot between my shoulder blades. Lovely heat shimmered through me. His cock wedged itself into the crevice between my rear cheeks. Constrained both by my bonds and his body, I shifted awkwardly on the pillow. I had to get that lovely bulk lined up with the entrance to my pussy.

Oh no you dont!Harry reacted by scooting up higher, so that his cockhead pressed into the curve just above my butt.Whos in control here?He nipped my shoulder.

Ow! Youbut…”

Who decides when you get fucked?” Was he really annoyed? I couldn’t tell.

Ahyou do, Harry.I tried to relax and lie still, as hed commanded. Hed give me satisfaction, sooner or later. He always did.

Maybe I should just make you wait…” His actions didnt match his scolding tone in the least, though. Raising his hips and reaching between his legs, he adjusted his cock until the head bumped against my raging clit.

God, HarryPlease…”

With one smooth stroke, he slid into my soaked cleft.On the other hand, why should I put off my own pleasure, just to punish you?

* * *

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