Sunday, October 11, 2015

Celebration Snog for Good (#195): Raw Silk

Today’s Sunday Snog is very special, Victoria’s 200th (and my 195th...I’m not that far behind!) It’s also the lovely Ms. Blisse’s birthday. To celebrate, she has organized a “Smut for Good” event. Each of the participating authors is donating to Action Against Hunger. Then we’re posting either food or celebration related kiss excerpts.

If you want to get into the spirit of this event, why not make your own donation? Just click here:

My excerpt is one of the most outrageous I’ve ever written, from my first novel Raw Silk. (New, expanded edition coming early next year!) Savor it...then head back to to sample more tasty Sunday treats!

Happy Birthday, Victoria!! 

Come, have something to eat. I hope that you enjoy spicy food.

Definitely. At home they say that it is because of my red hair.

Somtow ran his fingers through her curls.I see. So perhaps red hair is associated also with hot blood?

Try this, then.He offered her a plate of raw papaya salad. She recognised this as one of the spiciest dishes available from Thai restaurants at home, but was not prepared for the stunning effects this version had on her tongue.

Goodness!she said, taking a spoonful of the coconut rice that normally accompanied this dish, to dampen the fires in her mouth.I thought that I could handle hot food!They both laughed.

Somtow opened another bottle of wine and refilled their glasses. They continued to nibble on the exotic delicacies he had provided, sitting half-naked on the cushions in the balmy night.

Kate found her gaze drawn again and again to his smooth, muscular chest. The folds of the sarong around his waist hid his penis from her eyes. She wondered what he would do if she reached down to touch him, as she longed to do.

Somtow was talking about Thai cuisine, the two thousand royal dishes and the hundreds of other,country-stylerecipes. Suddenly, it seemed, he noticed her looking at his body. She blushed a little. He said nothing, but reached across the table to pick up a bowl of raw chillies.

Did you know, Katherine, that Thai chillies are considered to be among the hottest in the world?He picked up a bright green pod between his thumb and forefinger, and raised it to his mouth. Instead of eating it, however, he ran the pepper across his lips, almost as if applying lipstick. Then he leaned forward, and kissed Kate lightly.

The chilli oil made her lips tingle and burn.Mmm,she murmured, as she returned the kiss with enthusiasm. She felt him untying her sarong. Then his lips captured her nipples again, first the left, then the right.

She was not prepared for the sensations that assaulted her as the pungent oil touched her skin. The nubs were still hard, sensitised from her recent arousal. They burned and throbbed, almost painful, as Somtow deliberately anointed them with the remnants of the pepper. The near-pain was overwhelmed by the pleasure, though, as a delicious warmth radiated out across her breasts.

Oh...!She sighed, closing her eyes and savouring the heat.Thats incredible.

A light touch between her legs caused her to open her eyes. Somtow had another chilli in his fingers, brilliant red this time. With one hand, he parted her lower lips. Then, holding her open, he began to stroke the rigid little pepper against her equally rigid clitoris.

Saturday, October 10, 2015

Savoring Those First Times

By Cheyenne Blue (Guest Blogger)

Hello everyone, and firstly, huge thanks to Lisabet for once again hosting me on her blog.

I’m here to talk about my second anthology, First: Sensual Lesbian Stories of New Beginnings


The theme for First may seem obvious—you’re probably thinking this is another anthology of first lesbian sexual experiences. Well, yes… and very definitely no.

When I pitched the idea to Ladylit, I wanted to build a collection that took a wider sweep over the landscape of first times. I hoped for stories that captured the emotions that accompany first experiences, whatever they may be. And that is what I got. The fifteen stories that make up First have captured anticipation, fear, excitement, redemption, anger, wonder, exhilaration,, and of course love and lust and these emotions are woven into a plethora of varied tales.

Of course, there are some very fine stories of first time lesbian sex in this erotic collection—it wouldn’t be complete without these stories.

I hope you enjoy the anthology.


Dive into these fifteen sizzling tales of lesbian love and romance and experience the wonder, the joy, and the magic of new beginnings.

A woman sees her lover for the first time after years of blindness. For the first time in her life, a top trusts her girlfriend enough to let her take control. A connection forged in a bar in New Mexico encourages a breast cancer survivor to take a lover. Stories of new love and first lesbian encounters intermingle with other emotional and physical firsts, and the excitement of new experiences: an around the world flight, the thrill of a carnival, and even the first time to see the sea.

With fantastic stories by favorite writers such as Sacchi Green, Harper Bliss, Annabeth Leong, Allison Wonderland, and Jeremy Edwards, the variety in this anthology means there is something for everyone.

Table of Contents

Roses and Thorns by Annabeth Leong 

The Opposite of Darkness by Harper Bliss

The Talkies by Jeremy Edwards 

Before the Bus Comes by Tamsin Flowers

Whole Again by Brenda Murphy 

Pulling by Sacchi Green 

The First Peonies by Ivy Newman 

Repossession by Emily L. Byrne 

That Summer by Vanessa de Sade

Amelia by Cheyenne Blue 

The Ghost of She by Jillian Boyd

The Sum of Our Parts by Andi Marquette

Soar Spot by Allison Wonderland

Sea by Rosie Bower 

Dissolving by Cela Winter

First: Sensual Lesbian Stories of New Beginnings is available direct from Ladylit Publishing

Or from Amazon at the following links:

My own story "Amelia" is my take on the disappearance of Amelia Earhart, the legendary pilot who disappeared while attempting an around-the-world flight. Here's the start of that story:

When the fuel finally runs out, the engines splutter and fall into silence. Now there’s only the thud of her heart in her ears, the quiet sky and its heavy-bellied white clouds. The increasing panic that had consumed her as she’d tried and failed to contact the ship that was supposed to guide her in to land vanishes. Amelia is calm now, with a clear-headed detachment. She’s an experienced pilot; she knows how the Electra will glide, how it will swoop over the winds of the Pacific, descending, descending, until she bellies down in the ocean.
Next to her, Fred, the navigator whispers “Oh my God, oh sweet Jesus, save our souls” over and over, and one part of her mind thinks how predictable he is, turning religious as the plane and the sky part company and the possibility of death arises.

Stop that,” she snaps. “Look for land. Howland Island should be here, according to you.”

He stares at her with wide frantic eyes, and she thinks, not for the first time, that the two of them are mismatched as pilot and navigator. She doesn’t even like him much--his inane conversation irks her, as does his habit of releasing gas, blaming the altitude of flight. The thought flashes through her mind that if the Electra crashes into the ocean she might die next to this buffoon, instead of with her husband, or one of her lovers. She shuts that thought out and scans the water. Howland Island is small and flat to the ocean. They could be almost on top of it and not know.

Fred is now reciting the Lord’s Prayer. She flicks him an irritated glance. His eyes are closed. She shouts at him to open his goddamned eyes and look for land, and he might manage to put off meeting his maker for a while longer. He does as he’s told, and they both search the ocean as the plane sinks lower, floating though the layers of wind and air currents, the sea below and Fred's heaven above.

They both see the island at the same moment. It's small, a tiny droplet of land in the expanse of water. It’s dead ahead, and they are too high, it’s too close, and she has no hope of banking or circling back to it. She has to put the plane down sharply and hope there is somewhere forgiving for the plane’s resting place. Amelia adjusts the controls, the little plane shudders, responds, noses down at a steeper angle. Too sharp, she knows, but this is their only option. Her fingers sure on the wheel. She can do it, she knows that. She sees dense green vegetation, and a flock of birds that come bursting out, startled by the silver plane above them that must look like some giant bird of prey.

There is somewhere to land. A lagoon—softest blue, shimmering aquamarine—ringed by jungle, a narrow collar of land around this jewel. She can see the lagoon is shallow—there’s the lazy flap of a ray in the clear water—and she levels out the Electra so that its belly is nearly skimming the water. Fred is tight-knuckled beside her; no doubt he thinks he procured this miraculous island by the power of his prayer.

Cheyenne Blues erotic fiction has been included in over 90 erotic anthologies since 2000, including Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Womens Erotica, Sweat, Bossy, and Wild Girls, Wild Nights. As well as First: Sensual Lesbian Stories of New Beginnings, she is the editor of Forbidden Fruit: stories of unwise lesbian desire (Ladylit). Her collected lesbian short fiction is published by Ladylit as Blue Woman Storiesvolumes 1 to 3, with more to come. Under her own name she has written travel books and articles, and edited anthologies of local writing in Ireland. She has lived in the U.K., Ireland, Colorado, and Switzerland, but now writes, runs, makes bread and cheese and drinks wine by the beach in Queensland, Australia. Check out her blog at, on Twitter at IamCheyenneBlue and on Goodreads at

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Sneak Peek: Shopping for a CEO by Julia Kent

[Somehow I neglected to line up a guest for today’s spot. But that’s okay. I’ve got a sneak peek at a light-hearted and sexy new release from Julia Kent. Enjoy! ~ Lisabet]


I’m thrilled to be the maid of honor in my friend’s wedding, but the best man, Andrew McCormick, is a chauvinistic pig with a God complex.

And I can’t stop kissing him in closets.

(Don’t ask.)

He’s the brother of the groom and the CEO of my biggest mystery shopping account, but suddenly he’s refusing to be in the wedding. He won’t talk about it. Won’t see reason.

He’s such a man.

And he still won’t stop kissing me in random closets.

(Thank goodness.)

I’m a fixer. That’s what I do. I can fix anything if given the chance. But when the game is fixed there’s only so much I can do.

The ball’s in his court now.

Game on.

* * *

Shopping for a CEO is the 7th book in the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Shopping series. When CEO Andrew McCormick and mystery shopper Amanda Warrick find themselves in the unlikely position as maid of honor and best man in the Boston society wedding of the year, an undeniable attraction and dual stubborn streaks add fuel to the fire in this romantic comedy from Julia Kent.

Buy links


Why did you kiss me the first time? That day when I barged into your office?”

He nods, eyes looking at everything and nothing, finally settling on my face. “Because you were so passionate about protecting Shannon. Because you were adorable and irate and you had this energy I wanted to taste.”

I’m holding my breath. I thought we would spend this first date doing the awkward getting-to-know you dance. Andrew’s gone right to the point. Laser focus.

Just like a CEO.


Yes. I know what I want. I don’t equivocate. I decide and act. I compartmentalize. I issue orders and execute strategy. You came in that day and started ordering me around and it was cute and exciting and inspiring. Oddly sensual. And when you kissed me -- ”

_You_ kissed _me_!”

And when _we_ kissed,” he says, eyebrows raised, as if settling this point once and for all, “I got something far more forbidden than I realized I was getting when I went for that simple taste of you.”


What’s that?”

He studies me, as if sizing me up, trying to determine whether he should tell me what’s next. Or not. Finally, his face changes through a series of three or four emotions, most of them involving some variation of deliberation.

And then:

You didn’t fit in a box.”

I fit in a closet.”

He doesn’t laugh.

You intrigued me.”

Not enough to call me after that kiss, though.”

He shakes his head. My heart plummets.

No, Amanda. The opposite. You intrigued me too much.”

I get the sense that the word ‘intrigued’ means something else.

You mean I scared you.”

His eyes flash with emotion I can’t read.


Men like Andrew McCormick don’t do this. They don’t lay their emotions out on the table like this. Why is he doing this?

Then why did you kiss me again? And again. And again again -- ”

I don’t know.”

C’mon.” The driver takes us onto the Mass Pike, lights flying by like spaceships. Like little orbs shooting past us, filled with people oblivious to the quantum shift taking place inside this tiny space. “You always know. You’re a CEO. You compartmentalize. You execute. You decide. You act. You can’t tell me that the great wunderkind Andrew Mc --”

He’s on me before I can take an inbreath to continue speaking, his body so big and bold, so impulsive and unrelenting. The limo becomes its own dimension, his hands seeking to hold all of me as we tumble into some new plane of awareness that doesn’t factor into any life we’ve known until this moment. His mouth finds mine, hands under my suit jacket, palm cupping the lines of my breasts, my waist, my hips, and he’s tasting me again, this time with an urgent need that comes from an honesty I don’t think he’s felt permission to express in a very long time.

If ever.

About Julia

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge, and new adult books that push contemporary boundaries. From billionaires to BBWs to rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every book she writes, but unlike Trevor from Random Acts of Crazy, she has never kissed a chicken.

She loves to hear from her readers by email at, on Twitter @jkentauthor, and on Facebook at . Visit her website at