Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Wouldn't you like to be Taken by the Tyccon?

By Normandie Alleman (Guest Blogger)

Hi, everyone! Today I'm interviewing Violet, the heroine in my new BDSM erotic romance Taken by the Tycoon.



Character: Violet Weeks
Character Bio: Voted one of Texas’ Biggest Movers & Shakers Over 40 – 2015, Co-Founder of the charity Musical Mentors, and lover of oil tycoon (and HOT, young stud) Stuart Swearingen.
Celebrity Inspiration: Sharon Osbourne

Violet, what is your best and worst quality?
Hmm. My best quality would probably be that I am fun-loving. I like to have a good time. And my worst quality is something that I’m working on. I’m too worried about what other people think of me.

What is your biggest secret that nobody knows about?
That I’m terrified of going into menopause! Eeek! My worst nightmare is turning into an old crone, so I’m fighting this aging thing every step of the way.

What do you want more than anything?
To be with comfortable in my relationship with Stuart, and find a way to stop worrying that he’ll leave me for a younger woman.

How much of a rebel are you?
I’m a rebel in my own way. I’m independent, and I like to do my own thing. But I have to admit I do worry about people saying bad things about me, so that keeps me in check to a large degree.

What about Stuart – is he a good or a bad influence on you?
Both! He doesn’t give a fig about what people think. He’ll get me into all sorts of trouble so that’s bad, but at the same time I need to let my guard down more. He helps me do that, so in that way he’s a good influence. He’s made my life richer.

What do you consider to be your greatest achievement?
Raising my daughter. She’s eighteen now, and I’m so proud of her. I’m also proud of my charity. It provides musical instruments and instruction to kids in at-risk school districts. Several of our kids have earned college scholarships with the help of the program.

What is it you most dislike?
Busybody socialites who have nothing better to do than gossip about other people. Get a life!

What is the quality you like most in a man?
Hard, well-defined abs. What? Is that bad to say?

What quality do you like most in a woman?
Wit. I love a gal with a good sense of humor, don’t you?

What is your greatest regret?
That Stuart and I didn’t find one another sooner. It probably wouldn’t have worked, but I crave more time with him and I hate for us to have wasted time in relationships with others. It’s not realistic to think this way, but sometimes I’m wistful about it.

Which living person do you most admire?
Christie Brinkley. Good Lord, the woman is in her sixties and have you seen how amazing she looks? I should probably say someone like the President, but oh well. I’d love to look that great at her age!

What is your motto?
Live each day as if it’s your last.

Taken by the Tycoon by Normandie Alleman

He reminds me of the men who grace the walls of stores where my daughter shops. Men with rippling abs and sinewy ropes of muscles. Men intended for younger women.

I never expected him to notice me. Imagine my surprise when he cornered me in the locker room, pressed his incredible body against mine, and forced me to acknowledge a desire more powerful than anything I’d experienced before.

Now that he has introduced me to the pleasures of being dominated, he wants to possess me completely. But how can I risk my heart, when I know his affection will never last? 

 

Snippet

He kissed her on the forehead. “You truly were a very good girl today. Next time I’ll bring my ropes.” His eyebrows lifted, the anticipation palpable for them both.

Promise?” Violet asked saucily.

If you are a good girl and promise not to touch yourself until I see you next week,” he said.

What?”

He grabbed her by the waist and whispered in her ear menacingly, “That pussy of yours belongs to me.”

Her eyes widened. “It does?”

There was an intensity in his eyes she’d never seen before. “Do you want it to?”

She nodded.

Say it.”

Yes, Sir. I want my pussy to belong to you.”

Buy Links:

Barnes & Noble: http://tinyurl.com/kuolnt3

About Normandie

A former psychologist, Normandie has always been fascinated by human behavior. She loves writing quirky characters that are all too human. Fiber arts, baking, and Pinterest are a few of her favorite pastimes. She lives on a farm with a passel of kids, an adorable husband, and a pet pig who’s crazy for Red Bull. If you’d like up to the minute new release info on Normandie’s books text RACYREADS to 24587 (Use all CAPS).

Follow her on:

Twitter at @NormandieA https://twitter.com/NormandieA



Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Review Tuesday: Darker Edge of Desire

Darker Edge of Desire: Gothic Tales of Romance
Edited by Mitzi Szereto

Madness. Darkness. Death, and what might lie beyond. Gothic fiction takes us to the edge of comfort, icing our wonder with a blast of cold terror as we confront the unknown – including the unplumbed depths of our own own hidden desires.

Mitzi Szereto’s latest anthology marries the tropes of the Gothic genre with graphic erotic content. The results are surprisingly varied, transcending the clichĂ©s of windswept moors, haunted mansions and buried crypts to provide some impressively original tales.

Possibly the most startling is Benji Bright’s “Blood Soup”. An exacting master chef concocts daily feasts for his reclusive noble employer, whom he has never met. The extraordinary repast he concocts from cow’s blood brings a summons, a moment of shared release and the revelation of secrets. I loved the twisted logic in this tale, laced with somber power.

Another standout tale is “The Wildest Spirit”, by Sacchi Green. Two beings on the edges of society, both scarred by their wild abilities, find common cause and unexpected passion when they try to stop the deliberate slaughter of coyotes. With its simple, concrete language, this eloquent story has some of the flavor of a fairy tale, but it’s not at all clear a happily-ever-after awaits the characters.

Ms. Szereto’s own contribution, “The Dracula Club”, is a delight.

I knew early on that my calling to the Old Country was not the result of some youthful fancy, which was how my family, schoolmates and teachers had always dismissed it. There’s not a huge amount of interest in Transylvania where I’m from, nor is there a huge amount of interest in Goth culture. Everyone thought I was crazy to be working all hours answering phones in a grubby warehouse office in the daytime (where no one had to look at me), then serving up greasy fast food and watery ice cream at the Dairy Queen in the evening (where I could be seen, but the country bumpkins and hot-rodding juvies were usually too drunk on cheap beer to care).

But I had a plan—and it was to save up enough money to fund my trip to Romania and have a bit left over to keep me going until I figured out how to earn a living. What did I care what the local yokels thought of me or my goals? I’d always been an outcast with my dyed black hair and my face and body piercings, my heavy black eye makeup and weird black clothes. The only people back home who dressed in black were the Amish—and they sure as hell weren’t Goth.

In a grimy Transylvanian pub, the narrator meets two gorgeous Gypsy boys – Dragos and Bela – and gives herself completely into their hands – both literally and figuratively. Their smutty, uninhibited three-way couplings are among the most erotic scenes in the book. Meanwhile, bit by bit, the beautiful Gypsies lead the transplanted Goth girl toward her dark destiny. She’s more than willing to follow.

T.C. Mills’ “The Wicked Wife” provides a fevered modern-day reading of Bluebeard that definitely got my blood boiling. “Reynolds’s Tale” by Adrian Ludens features Edgar Allen Poe as a character, and is written in a style reminiscent of that master of horror. Rose de Fer’s “Moonfall” gives us a Victorian werewolf, incarcerated in an asylum for the insane by her evil husband and rescued by her mortal lover. “Zapada Alba” by Tracey Lander-Garett is another shape-shifting tale, told in lush, sensual prose. Gary Earl Ross’s “Sister Bessie’s Boys” is a surprisingly sweet ghost story with a strong sense of place.

I would not, by the way, call this collection romance, at least not in the modern sense – but I guess that’s necessary these days to sell books. In perhaps half of the stories, requited desire leads to the promise of a future as a couple. The others are, thankfully, far more ambiguous.

Darker Edge of Desire offer vampires, were-creatures, demons and succubi – but don’t expect them to follow the rules of popular fiction. Overall, Mitzi Szereto has assembled a strong and diverse collection that showcases the creativity of her contributors.


Monday, March 2, 2015

Cover Reveal: Just Desserts


A Multi-Author Collection of Bite-Sized Delights




Presented by SecretHungers.com

More than twenty of your favorite bestselling, award-winning and debut erotic authors invite you to skip the main course and indulge in the naughtiest of desserts.

This collection of delicious contemporary and paranormal erotic romances is sure to satisfy even the most sinful appetites.

Be prepared to be teased each week as we pull back the blindfold to reveal our contributors.

AVAILABLE JUNE 2015

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Sunday Snog #163: A Star Trek Snog

My Sunday Snog today is in some sense in honor of Leonard Nimoy. I’ve got a kiss excerpt from my M/M story, “To Boldy Go”, which takes place at a Star Trek convention. The story will be out soon in the altruistic anthology Coming Together: Outside the Box.

Here’s the blurb:

Where no man has gone before...

Nothing gives nerdy web developer Jeremy more of a thrill than cross-dressing.
When his best friend dares him to attend a Star Trek convention in drag, though, he's sure he can't pull it off. Sure, dreamy co-trekkie Peter seems convinced. But how will Peter react when he discovers that svelte, sexy Lieutenant Uhura he's been following around the con is really a guy?

When you’ve sampled my snog, head back to Victoria’s place for more Sunday kisses!



Let me buy you a drink, Peter.” The contest’s over; the skits are next, followed by the raffle drawing, then the secret guest of honor. The night is still young.

My mouth-watering companion shakes his head. “I’ve got to be getting home. I’ve got a seven o’clock shift tomorrow morning.”

I try to reason with my sinking heart. What did I expect?

That’s a shame. I’ll walk you to the car park.” I take his arm as we stroll to the elevator, delighted when he doesn’t stop me. I want to savor every last minute of his closeness. “Maybe I’ll call it a night, too. After winning the contest, everything else is likely to be an anti-climax.”

Yes, I suppose it doesn’t get much better. You’re the most convincing Uhura I’ve ever seen.”

Think how impressed he’d be if he knew the whole truth.

The lift deposits us at parking level. The stink of car exhaust and motor oil drives Peter’s pine-infused cologne from my nostrils. I lean closer to him, breathing deeply to fix his scent in my memory. I’ll think of him in the future whenever I go hiking in the Sierras.

He slides his arm around my waist as we walk. I almost panic. It feels so wonderful, though, that I can’t bring myself to object.

Finally, we halt next to a blue Ford, a few shades darker than his eyes. “Here’s my car.” He releases his hold on me. We face one another, the old awkwardness reasserting itself. He fumbles with his keys. “I guess – um – well, goodbye for now, Jen. Thanks for a great day.”

That’s it? That’s all?

Frustration, anger and lust roar through me, a strange potent mix. I can’t let him go so easily. I throw my arms around his neck to drag him down to my level, then capture his mouth in a fierce kiss.

Wait – Jen – please...” I swallow his words, overwhelm his feeble resistance, pry his lips open and plunge inside. Inside, he’s hot, sweet, tasting of the Black Forest Cake we shared at the banquet. He grips my shoulders as if to hold me away from him. At the same time, though, he returns the kiss, sucking on my tongue, thrusting his own between my lips.

That suction – oh! My cock strains at the silly garments keeping it trapped. It’s all I can do not to explode. Logic and reason desert me. I slide one hand down to his crotch, seeking the hardness I know I’ll find there. I’m not disappointed. Peter moans, digging his fingernails into my flesh, but he doesn’t stop me.

I cup, stroke, squeeze. He kisses me harder. If that’s not permission, it’s close enough. Ignoring the potential damage to Lorelei’s leggings, I sink to my knees on the oily concrete. I’m good with my hands; his zipper is open and his rigid dick bobbing in front of my face before he even realizes what’s going on.

Saturday, February 28, 2015

Anything can be inspirational

By Helena Stone (Guest Blogger)

If I ever get married, it will be to a girl like her.”

That line appears in Little Rainbows and was plucked from real life. In fact, when I first thought about writing a book, that line was the only thing I had. Whatever my story would end up being about, I needed that line to be in it.

You see, when I was fifteen years old, somebody used those words while referring to me. He didn’t say them to my face, but they reached my ears anyway and I’ve never forgotten them.

Never mind that I wasn’t in love with the boy in question. Never mind that I haven’t seen him since that summer. When somebody likes or admires you enough to say something like that – especially when you’re not around to hear the compliment – it gives you the sort of confidence boost to last a lifetime.

Of course, in Little Rainbows the man who used the words and the woman he said them about, do meet again and are given a second opportunity to create something beautiful together. Their journey is riddled with obstacles though, so it is by no means certain that Jason will get his wish.

The second thing to inspire me was a geological phenomenon I encountered a few weeks before I started writing. Up until that moment I hadn’t known there were such things as blowholes. I’ll use Jason’s words to try and explain what a blowhole is:

A blowhole is a deep opening in the ground a short distance away from the shore. There’s an underground connection between the sea and the hole where water gathers. Every so often the water erupts. It is a powerful sight when a huge column of water shoots straight up into the air, only to disappear again.”

Jason is right. It is a powerful and mesmerising sight. Once I’d seen the blowhole near Belmullet and the spouting water, I knew I had to set my book on the west coast of Ireland just so I could get that magical experience into my story. I can only hope my words do the beauty and magnitude of an erupting blowhole justice. 
 



Little Rainbows by Helena Stone
MF BDSM Erotic Romance
General Release Date: 20th March
Available now for early download!
Heat Rating: Burning
Book Length: Super Novel

Blurb

When Jason and Heather first meet they are young and sure they are wrong for each other. As a result they spend a summer admiring each other from a safe distance.

Twenty years later Heather is coming out of mourning, having lost her husband and Dom eighteen months earlier. Jason, now the owner of an exclusive sex resort on the west coast of Ireland, struggles with the loss of his desire to dominate.

Jason’s resort is about to celebrate its first anniversary and party planner Heather has been hired to create the perfect celebration. Their reunion comes as a big surprise to both of them.

Old and familiar attraction battles with new and conflicting emotions as Jason and Heather work together to organize the ultimate BDSM event. Overcoming the issues between them isn’t the only obstacle Jason and Heather face. In the background lurks a threat both to Heather’s independence and Jason’s livelihood.

Excerpt

There it was, her opportunity to kick-start her life again. And, as restarts went, it made quite an impression. The hotel or club—she wasn’t quite sure how to label the building—looked rather grand at the end of the long drive. The Atlantic Ocean, throwing up a spray in the distance, only enhanced the picture. Even on this bright summer’s day she could see small rainbows in the watery mist the waves were producing. It would be easy to confuse this place with any of the up-market tourist traps the west coast of Ireland was peppered with. This could be any other posh resort catering to Americans trying to find their roots and golfers looking for an opportunity to try the links courses littered along the coastline. The heavy gate blocking the entrance told a different story. She knew too much about this place, its purpose and what happened behind those gates to confuse it for anything except what it was, a dream from the past and—if everything went according to plan—the start of the rest of her life.

She’d been looking at the building, the grounds, the gate and the little buzzer on the intercom box for a few minutes. If anybody on the inside happened to be keeping an eye on the entrance through those security cameras, they would have decided she was either scared or crazy by now—and they’d be right. She was apprehensive. Her hands were clasped together, her fingers worrying her wedding ring. After eighteen months of virtually living like a hermit, coming here felt like diving in headfirst. Still, if she’d had any doubts about leaving Dublin, that surprise visitor two weeks ago and his shocking proposal had taken care of those.

The bastard. She refused to even think his name. It still bothered her he’d had the nerve to show up at her door like that. Where would he have gotten the idea she’d be open to his suggestions? It had been clear that he’d expected her to embrace his offer—or should she call it an order—with open arms. His delusions of grandeur must have gotten the better of him, or he’d confused her with someone she clearly wasn’t. She didn’t get it. Even before her self-inflicted confinement, she’d made a point of staying away from him. Why would he think she’d changed her mind about him just because she was on her own? She didn’t know but lingering on that memory right now didn’t serve any purpose. She didn’t want him in her thoughts, especially not now. It would only make her more nervous than she already was.

She’d thought this place would be the perfect setting for her return to the BDSM world she’d been ignoring for well over a year. Now that the moment was close, now that she had to take this last step out of her confinement, the first step into her future, she couldn’t help second-guessing herself. Was she really ready to move forward? Could she do it on her own? She’d never been a part of this lifestyle without her husband and his loving support.

With a sigh she lifted her hand and pressed the little button. She’d come this far. She hadn’t driven the five hours from Dublin only to turn away at the last hurdle. If she gave up now, it would be the end of the business they’d built together. If she chickened out of this, there would be no way of ever going back on her own terms. Going forward scared the shit out of her but going back frightened her even more. She could do this. She’d promised she would take this step. Breaking her word was not an option, no matter how scared she was.

About Helena

Helena Stone can’t remember a life before words and reading. After growing up in a household where no holiday or festivity was complete without at least one new book, it’s hardly surprising she now owns more books than shelf space while her Kindle is about to explode.

The urge to write came as a surprise. The realisation that people might enjoy her words was a shock to say the least. Now that the writing bug has well and truly taken hold, Helena can no longer imagine not sharing the characters in her head and heart with the rest of the world.

Having left the hustle and bustle of Amsterdam for the peace and quiet of the Irish Country side she divides her time between reading, writing, long and often wet walks with the dog, her part-time job in a library, a grown-up daughter and her ever loving and patient husband.

Helena Stone can be found in the following places:

Email: helenastoneauthor [at] gmail [dot] com


Buy link:

Friday, February 27, 2015

LIve Long and Prosper



Leonard Nimoy
March 26, 1931 – February 27, 2015

Spock has left us. May he rest in peace.

He was dear to millions - probably more than he knew. Certainly he had a huge influence on me.

Live long and prosper.








Sneak Peek: Her Majesty by Willsin Rowe

[Today's sneak peek is a lusty, heart-filled lesbian erotic romance by Willsin Rowe, the guy who did the wonderful covers for my D&S Duos series. Enjoy! ~ Lisabet]




Blurb

Short, skinny tomboy Kim hasn’t had a boyfriend for a while. In fact, not since she fell in love with her best friend. The trouble is, her best friend is Serena, a beautiful, big Italian goddess who’s engaged to be married.

Or was, at least. Until yesterday, when her fiancĂ© finally confessed to myriad infidelities, laying the blame squarely on the size of Serena’s curvaceous ass.

As emotional therapy, the girls head away for a long weekend at a remote beach house. Just the two of them. No guys, no work, no distractions.

No inhibitions.

Can Kim work past her own fear and body issues to remind Serena just how damn sexy she really is?


Excerpt

I jumped into the shower to wash the salt from my body. As I dipped my head under the jet, the roar of the running water filled my head, to the point that I didn’t realize Serena had come into the bathroom until she spoke.

“Ugh! Disgusting!”

Fuck, you scared me!” I pushed open the shower door just a crack and my breath caught in my chest. She was naked. My beautiful, curvy best friend stood before me, completely naked. With her bottom turned toward me, she studied her hips and thighs in the mirror, slapping at her skin and making hypnotic waves. The trembling in my hands—in my entire body—made it almost impossible to shut off the water.

Say what you like about him, Wade was right about one thing. I’m getting huge. I look like gnocchi.”

I squeezed my lips together, but the words forced themselves out.

I love gnocchi.”

She smiled and looked at me in the mirror. Her eyes moved like blown feathers as she scanned every bare inch of me. It was all I could do to stand still under the intensity of her gaze, when all I wanted was to run and hide. Or dive head first into her welcoming arms and kiss her until Monday.

She hooked her hair behind her ears and filled me with a smile. “God, I’d love to have a body like yours.”

What, this old thing? Got it cheap from a ten-year-old boy. He grew out of it.”

The magic of laughter rippled superbly through her body. “I mean it! You can wear anything.”

Yeah...dolls’ clothes, those little puppy sweaters...”

She frowned and faced me. The real me, not the scared little girl in the mirror. “You’re being silly again. Stop it.”

Anything you say, your majesty.”

You don’t see it, do you? How beautiful you are.”

Me?”

Yes, you. Is it really so hard to admit to yourself?”

Of course it was, when I compared myself to her. Deflection was my only hope. “Look who’s talking, Miss Gnocchi.”

Get your copy today! 
About the Author

Willsin Rowe falls in love with a scent, a playful expression or an act of casual intimacy more easily than with physical beauty. When confronted by any combination of those elements he is a lost cause.

He has done many things over and over, done even more things only once, and half-done more things than he cares to admit. He loves to sing and doesn't let his voice get in the way.

He is intelligent but not sensible. He is passionate but fearful. He is not scruffy enough or stylish enough to be cool.