Sunday, September 25, 2016

Sunday Snog 246: My first published short story (#prague #erotica #blacklace)

Happy Sunday!

Today I thought I’d share something rarea kiss from the very first short story I ever published. The excerpt below comes from “Glass House”, which was published in the 2003 Black Lace collection Wicked Words 8. I am amazed to discover the book is still available, at least in ebook form.

This story takes place in Prague. The main character already has two lovers, but she’s tempted by the brash young man she meets in a Czech pub.

When you’re done with my snog, click back to Victoria’s Sunday Snog page for sexy kisses.


Let us walk down to the river,” he says, bringing me back to the present. “It is nearly sunset. And there is something that I would like to show you.”

We make our way westward toward the Vltava, in companionable silence. I am struck by the fact that, after all, I do trust Lukaš. For all his swaggering and sexual innuendo, he has treated me with respect. I know how easily he could have taken advantage of me; he probably knows it, too. Somehow, though I have told him nothing, he also senses my conflicts. He knows without being told that I am not free.

Clouds stained by the sunset heap high over the water, which flows gray and smooth like molten lead. Vermilion, ocher, coral, azure: ordinary color names do not apply to these flowing, burning shapes.

Against this multicolored background the spires and towers of Prague Castle on its crag across the river are fairytale silhouettes. For a long time, I simply stare, as the forms merge and change in the dying light. When I finally remember Lukaš, I see he is grinning again, as if he could take credit for this spectacular display.

Is this what you wanted to show me? It is wonderful!”

Not exactly. Look across the street.”

The first thing I see is a massive rococo building of yellow stucco, dripping with ornamentation and topped by an onion dome. Then I see the building beside it, and stop short.

It is totally fantastic, whimsical, and bizarre. It began as an ordinary, modern office building, with square windows and a flat roof, facing the river across Smetanova Street. But grafted onto this edifice is a second building, all of glass, shaped like an asymmetric egg timer and leaning at a crazy angle against the staid office block. The sunset colors reflect in its multifaceted façade, so that the building seems to shift and move.

I hardly notice that Lukaš has put his arm around my shoulders. “Do you like it?” he asks, his grin even wider than before. “We call it ‘Fred and Ginger.’”

I laugh, catching the reference immediately. The glass tower’s conical base narrows, like a skirt, up to the “waist”, then fans out again. The whole structure inclines toward the office building, like a dancer leaning on her partner. On the left side, the flared lower edge of the glass completes the illusion, seeming to flow as the dancers swirl away in the opposite direction.

It is absolutely fabulous. Thank you.”

You are welcome,” says my smiling young guide with his delightful Czech accent, and then he is kissing me.

He kisses with his whole body. His arms wrap all the way around me. His lean thigh insinuates itself between mine, just as his tongue snakes into my mouth. His hands are on my back, my breasts, my buttocks. I am swallowed up in this hot, wet kiss. The jungle has claimed me. I am sinking in quicksand. He tastes of tobacco and beer, completely delicious.

Just when I think I will stop breathing, he releases me. I am shaking. My sex is throbbing. I am, unbelievably, close to orgasm. From just a kiss. But no one has ever kissed me like that. Not Daniel. Not Rebecca. I am frightened by my reactions.

Lukaš acts casual. “Do you want to go inside? The view from the top floor is very fine.” He stands close, but does not touch me. I ache for another all-consuming kiss. I fear it.

Saturday, September 24, 2016

Can a little Domestic Discipline improve a bad vacation? (#spanking #discipline #giveaway @CaraBristol)

domestic discipline cover

By Cara Bristol (Guest Blogger)

You know what’s more stressful than working all the time? Taking a vacation! A lot can go wrong.

My mom and I took a cruise, and she caught up one of those viruses that can run through an entire ship. Because we were sharing a cabin, we both ended up quarantined for the duration of the cruise.

On a trip to Hawaii with my parents when I was a teenager, my mother and stepfather got into a really big fight. The rest of the trip was tense and awkward.

Ah, good times.

My husband, my mother-in-law and I had planned a trip to Thailand. Just before we arrived, riots broke out in Bangkok—and our hotel was located in the riot area. The travel company rerouted us to a different hotel, but the new accommodations were in an industrial part of town. Nothing to do or see. We ended up going to stay with my sister-in-law who lived in Thailand at the time. So, no harm, no foul that time—although we weren’t able to see anything in the heart of Bangkok.

My husband and I have never had a bad vacation together, but we have had some “adventures” while traveling.

You can plan all you want, but vacations are unpredictable. A lot can impact a trip including:

  • Bad weather
  • Natural disasters
  • Disagreements with travel companions
  • Political or civic uprisings
  • Flight delays, flight cancellations, lost luggage
  • Getting sick
  • Being pickpocketed and losing your passport, money, etc.
  • Unexpected substandard accommodations

In Wife on the Lam in Domestic Discipline, heroine Janelle Gibb wants to take a fancy, luxury vacation for her anniversary, but her husband blows off their special day. She is so mad she goes on the dream vacation all by herself. What Janelle doesn’t know is that Brent secretly booked a trip to surprise her. Nor does she know that husband follows her to the resort and proceeds to have a little “fun” with her. Her dream vacation is about to get really uncomfortable…

An excerpt from Wife on the Lam, Domestic Discipline

The only person to board so far, she sank into a seat midway down the aisle curbside, grateful for the air conditioning. After only a short jaunt from the building to the van, perspiration dampened her skin. She plucked at her cotton capris stuck to her legs. She wouldn’t need the slacks she’d packed. Just shorts, tanks — and the swimsuit. If she had the guts to wear it.

She’d bought the suit to surprise Brent before she hatched her impromptu plan. He’d always liked her ass. She sighed and lifted her hair from her nape. Should she contact him? Start damage control?

Could she call the States from Isla Island? Because Brent traveled so much they had a comprehensive cell plan. She powered up her phone. Seconds later a text message beeped through. Her hand shook as she recognized Brent’s number.

Can’t believe U did this. Where R U?

She texted him back. Cabana Resort, Isla Island. I’m sorry.

She widened her eyes when seconds later a response popped up. He must have been waiting for her message. She could imagine his fury. Fortunately she was hundreds of miles away. Of course, if she hadn’t been hundreds of miles away, he wouldn’t be mad. With any hope, he’d cool off some by the end of the week. Or would he be angrier by then?

U R in so much trouble. B there Thurs.

Did that mean what it sounded like? She gulped. U R coming here?

Yes. We’ll talk.

Talk was often a euphemism, but of course she wanted him to join her. Her heartfelt wish had been for her and Brent to take the trip together. And she was ninety-nine percent sure he wouldn’t spank her at a resort.

Domestic Discipline Blurb

Love, desire, domination, and submission. Two domestic discipline romances by USA Today bestselling author Cara Bristol in one volume.

Wife on the Lam

Janelle wants to take a luxury vacation for her wedding anniversary. Despite numerous hints, husband Brent misses all the clues and plans a business trip! Miffed, she flies off alone to a luxury resort. She’s going to celebrate—with or without him.

Brent didn’t have to work. He’d planned a second honeymoon to the luxury Cabana Resort. Janelle might have ruined his surprise, but he’s not going to let her ruin their anniversary, too. He has a little trick up his sleeve to take his errant wife in hand and get their marriage back on track.

Rahm’s Way

Before her military husband left for his tour of duty, Cadence Simmons relied on Rahm’s love, direction, and protection. His absence forced her to become more independent and make decisions for herself. After serving his country, he’s home for good and eager to resume their marriage as it was before. Only Cadence isn’t quite sure she wants things exactly as they were. Can domestic discipline guide this couple through some major changes?

Buy Links:

Author Bio

USA Today bestselling author Cara Bristol writes “nice and naughty” stories of love, romance, and humor featuring strong alpha heroes. She is a no. 1 bestseller in BDSM erotica, science fiction romance, and holiday fiction on Amazon. She is best known for her Rod and Cane Society domestic discipline series and her Breeder D/s sci-fi romance series. She lives in Missouri with her own alpha hero, her husband. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, reality TV shows, and traveling.

Have you ever had a vacation go awry? Tell me about your experience and enter to win a copy of Irresistible Attractions, a Rod and Cane Society spanking romance. 
Don't forget to include your email address in your comment!

Friday, September 23, 2016

Second Chance MM Romance (#mm #fitness #secondchance @ElodieParkes)

By Elodie Parkes (Guest Blogger)

Thank you for hosting me as I share a bit about my new release,
Hawk v Falcon: Surprise at the Candy Apple.

When Chris Falconer receives an email from his lost high school friend, Justin, ten years after he last saw him, Chris is overjoyed. The two boys had shared kisses and sworn love for each other, but before their love could be tested, Justin’s mother abruptly took Justin out of school, and they disappeared.

Multi-talented and handsome Chris is a cage fighter at Jack’s Clubhouse, and works in the Candy Apple club. He writes a column for a fitness blog and keeps himself busy, but deep down he’s never forgotten Justin—turns out Justin has never forgotten Chris either.

On a modeling assignment in New York, Justin sees Chris in a café and can’t help contacting him, but his ex, Todd, who doesn’t want Justin but doesn’t want Chris to have him either, has plans to throw their reunion into disarray.

So begins a love story full of emotion. Will Todd succeed? Or this time, will Justin and Chris have the happy ending and delicious love they deserve?

In the second MM romance from the Candy Apple series, I picked up on the character Hawk, the Dungeon Master in the Candy Apple. Chris Falconer is Hawk to the dungeon surveillance staff, but to others he’s a lonely man who often thinks about his past with regret. To the audience at Jack’s Clubhouse, where Chris cage fights and provides display fight bouts, he’s a thrilling sight.

Chris is: six foot two; has dark glossy hair; has deep blue eyes; is kind and gentle; loves sex and giving his partner pleasure; is muscled and handsome; is intelligent, multi-talented, calm and sophisticated. When he’s not fighting, he favors black suits, or a leather jacket;

Justin is: a fashion model; six foot two; has dark hair; has clear blue/gray eyes. Justin is lonely and had a stressful upbringing. He has never forgotten Chris, and needs his love. Justin has lived in Denmark for many years. He is hesitant and yet as soon as Chris begins to take care of him, he blossoms.

Their story is sexy, romantic, sad, and happy. No one is more surprised than Chris when he is contacted by long lost love Justin and he will do anything to give Justin the love he needs.


Justin walked a pace behind Chris. It was such a relief to be near Chris, Justin’s fatigue threatened to overwhelm him. Every muscle in his body felt heavy. His gaze traced the broad shoulders and muscled thighs of the man in front. Chris’s hair was well cut and his suit obviously expensive. Chris was even taller than he’d been when Justin last saw him in person, but then so was he. Justin smiled as a wave of tenderness crept over him followed by a sharp need to feel Chris’s lips on his. He still loved Chris. He’d expected to find it was all in his head, that the love was confined to memories, and real life would show him he was mistaken, that love couldn’t last this long.

They were in a corridor when Chris turned to him. “I’ve thought about you so much, I’m a bit ashamed of myself for clinging to your memory, when you never called, when you just disappeared.”
Justin’s heart fell. Was Chris about to reject him now they were away from the bar, the friendly barkeep, and bright white glow of the downlights there? “I’m sorry...”

No. I meant ... I mean I still care for you. I couldn’t ever shake it. I never got over you and it’s been ... it’s been so long—you know I sometimes felt weak for not letting go.”

Justin gazed at Chris’s handsome face. “I thought about you.” He slid his hand along Chris’s jaw. “I want to kiss you, so much.”

Chris closed the small gap between their bodies as he grabbed Justin’s head and brought his mouth down on Justin’s. Justin’s breath left him in a soft murmur. His eyes closed in pleasure. He clung to Chris, desperation to stay with Chris, never to go home, gripping him. All he could think of was starting again with Chris, of the delicious drifting sensation that overcame him as Chris pressed close. He kissed Chris over and over until he couldn’t breathe, and Chris held his face away a little whispering words he’d longed to hear against his mouth and dotting tiny kisses there between the phrases.

Justin, stay here, in the club. I can’t let you go, but I can’t leave work. I still love you. I want to know where you’ve been all these years. Where do you live? You must be a club member. I’ve not seen you here before. Can you stay until we close? It will be late, but then we can talk—we can be together.”

Justin closed his eyes and leaned his head on Chris’s shoulder. “Yes.”

Chris folded Justin in his arms.

Justin stayed within the comfort of the embrace until he knew he had to let Chris get back to work. He raised his head and stepped away.

I should let you work. I’ll hang out at the bar.”

Chris gazed into his eyes. “Thank you.” He kissed Justin gently. “Hell, you’ll never know how good it feels to kiss you again.

Copyright Elodie Parkes Encompass Ink, 2016

BUY the BOOK Also available on Kindle Unlimited

You might also like:

Love Unmasked: At the Candy Apple

Handsome Tom Wells sets lonely Scott Palmer’s heart racing as he watches Tom come and go from his apartment across the street. Scott longs to meet Tom, and when he scores a new job delivering goods for a local distributer, fate hands him the opportunity.

Tom works in a nightclub—the Candy Apple, and in the sultry environs, a masked stranger seduces Tom. The seeds of passion are sown, but just who has ignited Tom’s passion?

Scott’s longing to know Tom leads him to join the elite nightclub.
On his first visit, the club holds a masquerade event.
Who is kissing who? Who’s under the black velvet mask?

About Elodie

I’m a writer who is in love with happy endings. Currently based in the UK but thinking about joining the next flock of birds I see heading south for the winter.

I love: music, art, animals, flowers, trees, the ocean...

I work with antiques by day and words by night.

Like a vampire, darkness is my friend, that’s when the silence is only broken by an occasional hoot of owls in the woodlands opposite my home, and I write.

Find Elodie online: 

Thursday, September 22, 2016

Welcome, Autumn! (#solstice #memories #newengland)

Autumn image
Photo by Lisabet Sarai

Today is the autumnal equinox, the first day of fall. Here in the perpetually steamy tropics where I live now, it doesn’t feel much like the cool, crisp, luminous autumns I remember.  However, just the word “autumn” brings back vivid memories of my years in New England, where the season can take your breath away with its beauty.

In celebration of the day, I’ve got a snippet from my short story “Making Memory” which captures some of the glory of the northeast (Maine, in this particular case) during the fall. You can read the full story in my F/F collection Her Own Devices.

I looked up and down the two lane road, thinking to hitch a ride to the next town. The cracked tarmac was empty. All I could hear was bird-song and the breeze, whispering of the evening to come.

With a sigh, I retrieved my overnight bag from the trunk, locked the car, and began walking in the direction I had been headed. I hoped that I would come upon civilization before my flimsy Italian heels disintegrated.

Late afternoon sun slanted across the fields lining the road. The crisped remains of summer tangled in the steel safety cables: Queen Anne's lace curled into brittle fists, shaking themselves at me; milkweed spilling silk into the mild October air; tall grasses heavy with seed. The breeze was fragrant with the sun-baked, browning vegetation. And the sea was not far off. Mixed with the field smells, I caught the faint tang of salt and seaweed.

The beauty of Indian summer penetrated my distraction, soothed my irritation just a bit, eased the tight knot of unshed tears. A whippoorwill called, prematurely. Ten minutes into my walk, I entered the village of Spruce Point.

It was not much of a town: a grocery, a gas station, a store advertisingAntiques, and a white-spired church, grouped around a miniature green. At six thirty PM on an October Sunday, all the commercial establishments were shut tight. I was newly disheartened by theClosedsign onRay's Auto Service. How in the world would I get my car fixed? I had to get home. I had a critical meeting first thing Monday morning.

Behind the gas station, sharing a drive, there was a white clapboard house with green shutters. Bold in my desperation, I knocked on the door. It was answered after a moment by a gnarled, skinny figure. His chin bristled with stubble, but his eyes twinkled in his furrowed face as he gave me a warm smile.

"Good evening, young lady. Can I help you?"

"Are you Ray?" His oil-stained work clothes strongly suggested that he was.

"Yes, ma'am. Thirty years experience, at your service."

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I blew out a tire about half a mile up the road. The thing totally burst. I really need to get back to Boston tonight. Can you replace the tire for me? I know that you're closed for the evening, but it's an emergency. I'll be happy to pay you extra."

Ray looked me over. I could imagine what he saw: a slender, athletic woman with short, dark hair, designer suit and chocolate silk blouse, Gucci bag, impractical shoes. City folk. He grinned. "What kind of car?" he asked.

"Honda Accord."

"Miss, I'd love to help. But I don't generally stock tires for little foreign cars. 'Round here, folks seem to prefer full-size Ford station wagons, or Chevy pickups. I can get you a new tire from Thomaston, but not until tomorrow."

He must have seen the dismay in my face, because he patted my shoulder kindly. "Look, I was just fixing my supper, but if you'd like, I can go out now and tow your vehicle back here to the garage. That way, it'll be safe, and ready to be worked on as soon as I can get hold of the replacement."

I began to protest that this was unacceptable. I had to get back to Boston. Then I realized that it was futile. I could take a bus, perhaps, if I could get this man to drive me to Portland, but then my car would be stranded.

With a sigh of resignation, I nodded. "I'd be very grateful for your help. But please, finish your dinner first." I suddenly realized that I was ravenous. I had taken lunch with Dad in the nursing home dining room, but although he ate heartily, I had no appetite. "Is there a hotel anywhere around here?"

Ray considered the question. "Well, there's Maggie's place, the Bellweather Inn, down at the point. She's closed for the season, but I expect she wouldn't mind airing out a room for you. I can run you down there before I head over to get your car."

"What about your dinner?" I said, eager to find bed and food, but not wanting to seem impolite.

"Just franks and beans," he said with a grin. "I can heat it up again."

We piled into his tow truck and he headed south through the town. Soon the peaked roofs, shutters and picket fences gave way again to autumn-burnished fields. He turned east onto a dirt road marked with a weathered signboard.

Up ahead I saw a building, silhouetted against the fast-darkening sky, flanked by two tall evergreens. "Them's the spruces that gave our town its name," Ray commented.

We pulled up outside the inn. It was as weathered as the sign, but despite the graying shingles, it gave an overwhelming impression of solidity. Perched right on the rocky point, it had a wraparound porch that overlooked the surf-splashed cliffs on one side, a gently sloping lawn on the other. To the left of the driveway, I saw a well-tended garden, still bright with drooping sunflowers and brilliant purple chard. Lights shone in the ground floor windows, welcoming me.