Friday, August 22, 2014

Planning Pack of Lies

By Lucy Felthouse

Hello and welcome to the fifth day of my blog tour for Pack of Lies, and thanks so much to my host for the day.

If you’ve been following the other posts on this tour (scroll down for the link to the other posts), you’ll know I did rather a lot of research for this book. As a result, there was a lot of planning to do, too! I had to make sense of all the research I’d done, figure out what parts of it were needed, what was superfluous to requirements, how everything fitted together. There was lots to weave into the book—the most complex I’ve written to date—historical elements, contemporary elements, fact, fiction, settings, lies, intrigue, two main characters, lots of secondary characters, romance, hot sex... the list goes on.

Let’s just say it’s a good job I started a new A4 notebook for this project ;) This is not a complaint, I hasten to add. I actually had a really fantastic time doing all the preparation for writing this novel, and with such a complex storyline, it was necessary. It also meant that come November 2013, when I started writing the book, I’d have more chance of getting in the necessary word count each day in order to “win” NaNoWriMo—but that’s for the next post. Fortunately, my epic planning worked, as here I am with a completed and published novel!

Check out the photos on my Pinterest board:

The book has been incredibly well received so far, with lots of four and five star reviews—so if you’re a paranormal romance fan, I hope you’ll check it out! Also, don’t forget to enter the giveaway!

Happy Reading,

~ Lucy x


Werewolf brothers Matthew and Isaac have lived in the peaceful village of Eyam all their lives. The villagers know what happens every full moon, and are happy to keep their secret. But their privacy comes at a cost—neither brother has taken a lover in almost four hundred years.

Then at the full moon, a sheep is slaughtered on Eyam Moor, by what could only be an animal. A large, vicious animal. Even the brothers’ staunchest supporters begin to have their doubts. Meanwhile Isaac is smitten by a handsome newcomer to the village, while a vivacious visitor is happy to offer Matthew her all.

As they indulge their lust, they must clear their names and convince their neighbours that they aren’t also letting their baser instincts out to play.

Inside Scoop: This book contains sizzling scenes of both M/M and M/F sex.


As Matthew and Isaac Adams opened the front door to their house, the telephone started ringing. Matthew sighed. “Typical. No rest for the wicked. I’ll answer it, you go and get ready for work.”

Isaac nodded and headed off to do as his brother advised. Matthew, the older of the two, walked toward the ringing phone and snatched it off the hook. Then, remembering that the person on the other end of the line would have no idea what a rough night he’d just had, he made the effort to inject some politeness into his tone.

“Hello? Adams residence.” Isaac had told him time and time again that the last part about the residence was old-fashioned, that people didn’t say that anymore, but Matthew couldn’t seem to shake it.

“Hello, Matthew? It’s Richard.” The village vicar’s voice, even though he’d only spoken four words, sounded strained, almost panicked. “You boys just get back?”

“Yeah, a moment ago. Why, what’s up?”

“I, uh… I got a call. A dead sheep has been found up on the moor. Not just dead. Mutilated. Like a wild animal attack.”

An unpleasant feeling wormed its way under Matthew’s skin and his stomach flipped. “Oh?” He paused, then figured he had nothing to gain by not saying the next words he wanted to. “You don’t think it was us?”

The vicar’s gasp was instant, one of genuine surprise. “Lord, no! Absolutely not. I just phoned to let you know and I was wondering if you’d come up there with me and take a look. You and Isaac are probably more qualified than anyone else in the village to tell what did this.”

“Isaac has to work, he just went to get ready. But yes, I’ll come up. I’ll let my brother know where I’m going, then I’ll be straight over. Are you at the rectory?”

“Yes. Okay, I’ll see you soon. Thanks, Matthew. Bye.”


Matthew hung up the phone with another sigh. The horrible feeling that had crept under his skin and taken over his gut seemed as if it was there to stay, and it was never a good sign. The vicar’s news was surprising, yes, but he also had an inkling that it was going to spell trouble, or at the very least inconvenience, for him and his brother.

Pulling in a deep breath in an attempt to calm his jangling nerves, Matthew walked upstairs and toward his brother’s bedroom. The door was closed. He knocked. “You decent?”

“Yeah,” Isaac replied, “close enough.”

Stepping into the room, Matthew looked at his brother. He was half-dressed, ready for his shift at the doctor’s surgery, where he was a general practitioner. “Sorry to interrupt, mate, but that was Richard on the phone. They’ve found a mutilated sheep up on the moor, and he’s asked me to go with him to check it out.”

Isaac paused with one arm pushed into his shirtsleeve. “He doesn’t think—”

Matthew cut him off. “No. He was quite adamant about that. He just thought we’d be able to help figure out what did it. I explained that you’ve got to go to work, though. I’m going to head across there now and go up with him.”

“I could phone in, let them know I’ll be late.”

Matthew held up his hand. “There’s no need, brother. Relax. Just go to work and help the sick people. I’ll let you know what—if anything—I find out.”

Opening his mouth, then closing it again, Isaac seemed to have thought better of whatever he was going to say. He continued to dress. “All right, I will. But make sure you let me know what happens. Send me a text or something, and I’ll phone you as soon as I have a gap in between patients.”

Matthew grimaced. He hated texting. Hated mobile phones, actually. Technology was one of the things he disliked most about modern-day life, though he realized it was a necessary evil. It solved as many problems for him and his brother as it created, so he dealt with it as best he could. Fortunately, Isaac had always had an affinity with computers and phones, so he tutored his older brother.

“Yeah, all right. I’d better go and find my phone first then, eh?”

Smirking at his brother’s rolled eyes, he left the room and headed for his own bedroom, where he thought he’d left the device the previous night, before he and Isaac had headed for the caves. Immediately spotting the mobile phone—which Isaac often made a point of telling him was akin to a brick—he grabbed it and stuffed it into his pocket and made his way downstairs.

Retrieving his keys from the hook by the front door, he called up to his brother. “I’m going now, Isaac. I’ll see you after my shift at the pub. I’m working until closing time.”

“Okay. Don’t forget to keep me posted!”

“I won’t.” As if he could forget. The dead sheep was going to be a big thing, he just knew it. The vicar might not think he and his brother had anything to do with it, but some of the other villagers might. When there was no proof either way, just his and Isaac’s word, it was understandable, really. Since he and his brother changed into wolves every full moon, it was a natural conclusion to draw. Particularly since normal wolves had been extinct in England for over five hundred years.

Author Bio

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at:
pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women's Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns



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Wednesday, August 20, 2014

So Many Men...

By Juliet Waldron (Guest Blogger)

So many men,
Again and again,
Coming and going and
Going and coming…

This is an excerpt from the seductress Lili von Schtupp’s funny, suggestive song in “Blazing Saddles”. These are laugh lines at my house, but it does raise a question.

When orgasmic, do we “go” or do we “come?” Today’s lovers definitely “come,” but in the 18th Century vernacular, they “go.” I learned this reading Fanny Hill, an 18th Century “pillow book” which was banned almost as soon as it was written and was still banned when I was a teen. Like most people of that age, I had an intense interest in sex. Anything “forbidden” was a must-have. So, while working in New York City back in the 60’s, I found my first copy of Fanny’s adventures at a properly dark and dusty bookstore in the East Village, the same one which stocked the equally forbidden novels Ulysses and Lady Chatterley’s Lover. Having read quite a few 18th Century novels by way of course work—Tom Jones, Moll Flanders and Dangerous Liaisons among them—I was not put off by the circumlocution and flowery descriptions. The writers of that time were determined to show off their language skills by using as many words as they could jam into a sentence. 

Fanny never uses a dirty word. Nevertheless, even after 200+ years, she remains a pretty decent turn-on. She was a great help to me when, many years later, I wrote Mozart’s Wife and My Mozart. As these novels are both first person narrations, I wanted the language to have a definite old-fashioned flavor—not too much to hinder the modern reader—but a good dollop. Graphic talk was in order in both of these novels, about women who gave bodies and souls to the first musician who acquired rock’n’roll status in his lifetime—Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.


He had me now, had the sweet vulnerable center beneath skillful fingers.

"Ah, here's what she's wanting. Easy, my pretty, easy. I'll make you go. Oh, yes, I will."
My tender secret part was hostage of that knowing hand. As his expert fingers played, I responded exactly like any other instrument Wolfgang touched, alive to his mastery.

The lamp burned quietly in the summer night. His face was half in shadow, but his eyes shone. He lay half across me, one arm cradling my shoulders, the hand below moving, moving among the little curls, eliciting bead after bead of helpless dew. Pleasure burned.

"My first lover taught me this," he whispered. Lips ranged across the altar of my body, his touch at once so bold and tender. "So generous a lady."

Wild with the thing he was doing, I clung to him. Bliss spurted. Repeated passages splashed the sweet liquid he'd discovered everywhere.

My Mozart

Mozart’s Wife

About Juliet

Not all who wander are lost.” Juliet Waldron was baptized in the yellow spring of a small Ohio farm town. She earned a B. A. in English, but has worked at jobs ranging from artist’s model to brokerage. Twenty-five years ago, after the kids left home, she dropped out of 9-5 and began to write, hoping to create a genuine time travel experience for herself—and her readers—by researching herself into the Past. Mozart’s Wife won the 1st Independent e-Book Award. Genesee originally won the 2003 Epic Award for Best Historical, and she’s delighted that it’s available again from Books We Love. She enjoys cats, long hikes, history books and making messy gardens with native plants. She’s happy to ride behind her husband on his big “bucket list” sport bike.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Answer my question - win a prize!

It's Tuesday at Beyond Romance, and I don't have any guest or burning issue to discuss. So instead, I'll ask you a question.

How often do you drop by this blog without getting a reminder,  just to see what is going on?

Leave your answer in a comment and I'll put you into a drawing for a $5 Totally Bound gift voucher.

Of course, I'm not announcing this... so if I don't get many comments, that will answer my question, won't it?

Have a great day! (Here's a bit of eye candy to help!)

Monday, August 18, 2014

A Beginning and an End

By Ginger Simpson (Guest Blogger)

My debut/swan song Erotica is available in ebook on Amazon. Why, you ask, is Beaches a beginning and an end? I discovered while writing the book, I’m a prude. I have very little life experience to draw from, and my bedroom imagination has faded with age.

It’s true, most authors, draw from their own lives to make stories come alive. Believe me, no one wants to read about my life. Any moans and groans coming from the bedroom these days are usually caused my hip, knee or back pain. Hubby and I enjoy “hall sex.” Like the joke says, as we pass in the hallway, we say “screw you.” It’s easier on the body and a lot less demanding. lol

Even though I’ve written many genres, Beaches was the most difficult for me. I mean, how many ways can you describe genitalia without being repetitive? I’m more a “behind the door” writer. I like to lead up to the scene, but leave the reader to imagine what happens then. Writing erotic novels requires you to be very descriptive and thorough, and for a prude, that’s difficult to do. I managed, and I must admit, I left myself needing a few cold showers. So, blushingly, I share the following excerpt from Beaches with you. Enjoy!

Katie Franklins shredded a paper napkin and tossed the remnants on the kitchen table. Her best friend, Irene sat across from her and let Katie rant. She needed a good listener right now.

The mess she’d made on the table reminded her of her life—in bits and pieces. Staring into the cup of coffee in front of her, she shook her head at her reflection. “I’m a married woman. I have to end this affair!”

The words replayed in her mind until she wanted to tear her hair out.

Her shoulders sagged but she looked at Irene, seeking an answer. “How did I get into such a predicament? Falling in love with one man while still married to another? Honestly? My body’s sensual needs must have possessed my subconscious mind and made me commit this sinful deed. What do I do?”
Male attention was the magnet that drew her to Joey, and now she couldn’t imagine life without him. At twenty-eight, attracting a twenty-five-year-old flattered her. His smile, his broad shoulders…everything about him stirred passion she hadn’t felt in ages. She never intended to fall into bed with him; the attraction was just too much. Being near him blurred her reasoning.

Irene, like a trained counselor, offered no solution, instead let Katie work through her own issues.

“Joey makes me feel sensuous and alive…so unlike the relationship between me and Rick. With Joey, I discovered my lost confidence and found desire again. But is it real? Seven years ago Rick looked at me with the same accepting love in his eyes. How did our marriage go so wrong?”

She flashed back to earlier days…when Rick’s touch ignited a fire within her soul. “You know, Irene, there was a time when I actually waited for Rick to come home…wanting to taste his kisses and feel his hands on my body, but something happened after Brandon was born. The passion just dwindled away.”

Wasn’t having a child supposed to bring people closer together…make them a family? A baby sure hadn’t worked any magic in their home. In fact, her pregnancy ended any intimacy she and Rick shared. Oh, they still had sex, but other than physical release, they shared nothing with one another. Katie lowered her head into her palms and heaved a sigh.

“Maybe if I’d lost the baby weight sooner, I never would have gone with you to Beaches. What if…oh hell, no matter what scenario I apply to my predicament, nothing changes. Should a few extra pounds matter if you truly love someone?”

Katie closed her eyes and shuddered, the frustration becoming more than she could bear. “Why can’t Rick see I’m the same person I’ve always been. Even when I was heavier, I had the same heart, feelings and needs… I didn’t really change, but he did. His endless cruel puns got to me…turned our marriage sour and made me doubt my feeling for him. He drove me right into Joey’s arms…didn’t he?”

Irene shrugged.

Katie took a sip of cold coffee and then released a loud breath. “It’s taken me several months, but now I’m back to what I weighed before I got pregnant. What I don’t understand is Rick’s sudden renewed interest in me.”

She fisted her hands and pounded on the table, sloshing her decaf over the cup’s side. “How can I forget all the terrible things he said or forgive how degraded he made me feel. Am I wrong to hold onto the hurt?”

Irene picked up her cup and blew away the steam. Her gaze focused on Katie. “Do you blame me?”

“No…” She shook her head. “No way. You didn’t hold a gun to my head and make me go with you. We just happened to be in Beaches the same night Joey was there. That’s not your fault. Still, I can’t stop fantasizing about him, but do I even have the right?” Tension pounded in her temples. She never expected things to become so confusing. Was it fate or luck that drew her to her lover? Was he just a passing fancy or was he the reason to end her marriage?

Katie rose from the table and poured her remaining coffee down the sink. She used what was left of the napkin to mop up her spill then threw the wadded paper into the garbage.

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and stared out the window over the sink. The gray clouds scudding by defined her mood. “No matter how I look at things, I’m still married and what I’m doing is wrong. Even if Rick’s touch leaves me cold, and his sexual innuendos do nothing to entice me, he’s still my husband. You know, I actually dread his coming home from work, and especially, bedtime. He won’t take no for an answer no matter how much I protest.”

Tears she’d successfully restrained all morning trickled down her cheeks like the rain pinging against the windowpane. One way or another, she needed to make a decision, and soon.


Beaches is available on Amazon at:

All my other books can be viewed on my amazon page:

My thanks to Lisabet for allowing a prude on her page today. She’s such a prolific and awesome author, and a wonderful friend.

About Ginger

Ginger Simpson grew up reading anything by Laura Ingalls Wilder and became so fascinated with western historical novels, they've remained her favorite for more years than she cares to admit.

In 2002, Ginger decided to attempt writing her own novel, and in 2003 her first offering, Prairie Peace, was published. Since then, she's dabbled in other genres but always seems to migrate back to her favorite historical era. As all authors continue to learn through the process, so has Ginger, and her debut novel has been recently released with a new cover and title, Destiny's Bride.

At the beginning, Ginger accepted contracts with e-publishers with the realization her work would not be offered in actual stores, rather made available for sale by download or ordering through Internet sites. At the time, the reward of acceptance was enough, and the prayer that downloadable books would grow in popularity seems to have come to pass. Ginger admits she's no spring chicken, and her final goal is to see at least one of her works available in an actual "brick and mortar" store just so she can nod when someone asks if Walmart sells her books.

She's often joked that she may have to sneak a book into Walmart and leave it on the shelf next to one of Nora Robert's novels, but that's not really how she'd like her next novel to get there. Besides, there's probably a law that prohibits such a deed. She's already worked in a jail, so she doesn't care to experience the other side of the bars. Note from Ginger (2011): I actually did "sneak" a book into Walmart and take a picture of it on the "best sellers" shelf. I have the photo to prove it. I got a few weird looks from nearby people, but I didn't get arrested or escorted from the store. *smile*)

SPICE up your life with GINGER

Ginger Simpson @mizging

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Sunday Snog #137: More from The Ingredients of Bliss

I'm still celebrating the early download release of The Ingredients of Bliss. I've got a luscious three-way kiss for you this Sunday. 

Meanwhile, my blog tour continues next week. Monday's post will be at Ashley Ladd's blog. Here's the link (but of course it won't be live until tomorrow).

For a full schedule, and all the details about prizes and such, see my post from last Friday:

After you've savored my snog, I do hope you'll head back to Victoria's for more lovely lip-locks!

You don’t have to be ashamed or embarrassed,” Harry added. “All we want—both of us—is to satisfy you. To please you and make you happy. Can’t you just accept that?”

Harry hooked an arm around my neck and pulled me down into lush kiss. His tongue was assertive as ever, yet I caught a hint of uncertainty in his manner. Under his brashness, he worried that I’d reject the solution he and Etienne had worked out. If I did, would I choose him, or the suave, glamorous chef?

I relaxed and let him plunder my mouth, offering reassurance via my physical surrender. His hands roamed over my body, visiting all the sensitive spots he’d discovered in our months together. There was no pain now, only bliss, pouring from him into me.

Warmth pressed against my back. I smelled vanilla and thyme. Etienne’s fingers joined Harry’s, tracing along the top of my corset. He stroked the tender flesh under my arm, making me shiver, then let his palm wander down my side to the curve of my hip. His uncharacteristic boldness increased the thrill of his touch. You’ll be sorry, I thought, giddy with desire, as Harry continued his hungry kisses. I’ll trash your butt until you can’t sit down.

Etienne knew he’d be punished. We both knew that was part of his motivation.

Only part, though. I felt the hair lifted off my neck, the moist, gentle pressure of Etienne’s lips between my shoulder blades. The eloquence of that simple gesture almost brought tears to my eyes. I eased my lips away from Harry’s, beaming him a look I hoped was full of love. Then I swiveled to offer my mouth to Etienne.

The chef accepted my kiss with the eagerness of a starving man. He opened to the probing of my tongue, letting me drink my fill of him. I tasted the walnut mousse he’d sampled earlier at L’Auberge de Francois-Martine and the Courvoisier he’d used to wash it down. Under it all, I caught a hint of some half-bitter flavor that reminded me of rainy autumn afternoons in Jardin les Tuileries. As I kissed him, I realized I’d been craving this since the first day he’d graced me with that haughty smile.

While his mouth was subservient, his hands became increasingly more brazen, palming my breasts and thumbing my nipples, then sneaking down to tease my lower lips. Meanwhile, Harry was busy unlacing my corset. I hadn’t appreciated how much the garment had constrained me until he managed to slip it off, somehow without breaking the lip-to-lip connection between Etienne and me.

I paused to draw in a lungful of the sex-scented air and looked from one man to the other. Had Harry minded my kissing Etienne? Did Etienne think I was rejecting him for Harry?

Both of my lovers wore broad smiles. Relief washed over me. The last vestiges of guilt evaporated. And I was too horny to be embarrassed.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

The Joy (Or Not) of Writing Sex

By Victoria Chatham (Guest Blogger)

I well remember the first line I ever read that even hinted at sexual content. I was 13 and reading a very tattered paperback by flashlight under the bed sheets. I do not remember the title of the book, only that it passed from teenage hand to teenage hand with a whispered ‘very sexy, you’ll love it’. As if, in that era, any of us had any idea about sex and whether we would love it or not. I’m talking mid-50s here so yes, I’m giving my age away. Oh, and the line that my gang were so enthralled with?

Sylvia took off her nightie.

Oh, the thrill and shock of it! The very idea of unmarried people going to bed with each other was gloriously liberating and some of us even dared each other to sleep naked. What innocence. Since then I’ve read stuff that curled my toes, some of it in a good way but most of it not and has made me shake my head and think, really?

There is still some controversy surrounding erotica and the difference between it and porn. To me, the difference is in the point of view. Erotica is romance with a sexual element which has to move the story forward. If it’s gratuitous, it’s not needed. It has to touch the reader’s every sense. If it doesn’t and it’s simply a case of how many ways to insert A into B, then it’s porn.

As a writer I consider it part of learning my craft to explore other genres. Over the years I’ve read some of what is considered to be classic erotica by the Marquis de Sade, D.H. Lawrence, Colette, Flaubert and Nabokov. Think Philosophy in the Boudoir, Lady Chatterley’s Lover, Claudine, Madame Bovary and Lolita. For more modern authors I’ve read Anais Nin, and latterly Sylvia Day and Madelaine Sheehan with several Black Lace Publishing titles in between.

I’ve read some very moving gay and lesbian romance written in beautiful prose, and even found with some writers it’s not so much what they do say as what they don’t that can be very erotic. Jo Goodman’s Never Love a Lawman leaves much to the imagination in such a way that you cannot mistake her meaning as does Tami Hoag in Lucky’s Lady.

But do I want to write erotica? No, not necessarily. Do I want to show my characters being in love and loving each other? Yes, I do. I think love and sex are opposite sides of the same coin. Have you ever experienced that moment when you look into a stranger’s eyes and just know that having sex with that person would be hot, heavy and likely out of this world. But would it last? Like a shooting star that crashes and burns, the answer is likely no.

What I want for my characters is what I believe many readers look for. That progression from their first meeting and trying to deny for whatever reason their growing attraction for each other to their first full sexual encounter, and then realization that for one to live without the other would be simply impossible. Then the sex is integral to the story. It is deeper, more enduring and as their love for each other grows can create more endearing characters.

Do I like writing about sex? Mostly not! I really have to get into my character’s head to be able to put the words on the page. I don’t go as far as blushing at what I write (at least, I don’t think I do) but there is still a vestige of that teenager with the flashlight. What if someone catches me? What if they don’t approve of what I’ve written? And heavens above, what would my children think?

The fact that my children are all adults shouldn’t carry any weight, but it does. It goes hand in hand with a cry from their teenage years that they would be embarrassed if their friends knew I was a writer and was I going to use a pseudonym? It was obvious that the pseudonym was meant to protect them, not me.

However, my driver’s licence says I am a grown up now, never mind what my mind says. I write what I like under my own name. I’m proud of my writing and try to show the love my characters share in many more ways than simply them having sex. Maybe writing about sex will get easier. I hope so. And there’s one fact that can’t be denied – none of us would be here without it!

His Dark Enchantress (Regency Romance) by Victoria Chatham

Her grandfather is dying and insists she marry. Emmeline Devereux is under no illusion that her marriage to Lucius, Earl of Avondale, is one of convenience. When her past catches up with her, will the truth tear them apart or strengthen their love?

And what of you, Miss Devereux, are you honest?”

Emmaline’s stomach turned upside down and she quaked in her white satin slippers. Oh, how much she wanted to tell him the truth, to trust that he would not turn away from her. But it was impossible. She steeled herself and dared to look directly into his eyes.

At this moment, my Lord, no I am not.”

Her response surprised and intrigued him but before he could question her further, a buzz of conversation stirred in the crowd. People pressed back to clear the centre of the room. Lucius stood up as they heard the murmur of anticipation.

It is the Prince Regent himself,” the chaperone whispered with awe.

Emmaline left her chair and stood beside Lucius, hoping to remain at the back of the crowd. To her horror Countess Esterhazy was forming a reception line and she quickly found herself at the forefront.

The Prince, with his entourage behind him, slowly made his way down the line. Emmaline looked down and bit her lip, hoping that he would pass by her but the Countess and the Prince Regent stopped in front of her.
Miss Devereux, delighted to make your acquaintance again.” In the ensuing silence she heard the creak of his stays as he bent towards her.

Your Royal Highness is too kind.” She dropped a deep curtsy and bowed her head.

Nonsense.” The Prince lifted her hand to his lips. “England salutes you. And how is your grandfather and your army of wounded warriors, hmm?”

As well as can be expected, your Highness,” Emmaline assured him, but the Countess had already moved on.

Escorting Miss Devereux this evening, Avondale?” the Prince asked as the Countess introduced them. “If you ain’t, I might have to snaffle this pretty little thing out from under your nose.”

There were snorts of laughter and protestations from those around them and the Prince continued down the line, a fat chuckle emanating from his lips.

Lucius took two glasses of champagne from the salver presented by a footman and gave one to a still dazed Emmaline. She took the glass without a word, but turned with everyone else when Count Esterhazy proposed a toast to the Prince.

So how come you’re acquainted with Prinny?” Lucius asked quietly once the Prince’s party moved on to take their seats in readiness for Catalani’s performance.

I met him just once at a military function when in the company of my grandfather.” Emmaline sipped on her champagne.

So why would England salute you?”

Emmaline sipped on her champagne and swallowed it slowly. Here was the core of her problem. She sipped thoughtfully on the champagne again. How could she possibly tell him anything without having to tell him all? There was no way at all. She recklessly tossed back the remainder of her champagne and placed her empty flute on a passing servant’s tray. Lucius stood close behind her. She sensed the heat in his hard muscled body. Her heart leapt, skipped a beat as he moved closer still. Her skin burnt as the backs of his fingers pressed lightly against her arm. She took a deep breath to compose herself and wished she had not drunk her champagne so quickly. Her head spun a little as she turned to Lucius.

His Highness simply referred to the work my grandfather took upon himself to repatriate wounded soldiers. You must know they were shockingly neglected.”

I have heard something of the sort, but I do believe there is more to it than that.”

Emmaline moved away a little and looked up at him. “But without calling me a liar, which would be most ungentlemanly of you, you will have to accept it will you not?”

No, minx. I will not.”

Lucius leaned in towards her. His breath on her neck made her stiffen. Little licks of heat danced down her veins, twirled her pulse into a rapid tattoo. She tried to keep her back straight and to look ahead while all she wanted was to close her eyes and drop her head onto his shoulder. How could her body betray her so? She gave herself a mental shake and lifted her chin.

I wish . . .” she began.

What do you wish, Emmaline?”

She inhaled deeply. The words must have ridden on the cloud of his breath and detached themselves in her brain for she could not possibly have heard them.

I mean, I want . . .”

What?” His lips were close to her ear. “Tell me what you want.”

He stood so close. She knew that if she leaned back she would feel the hard wall of his chest. She took a step away, but he moved beside her. She felt the firmness of his thigh against her hip. Shocked at the instant tremor this elicited in her, she moved away again. His whisper, soft and low and surely not heard by anyone but her, tickled the delicate shell of her ear.

What I want is you in my bed.”

Emmaline gasped. This was wrong. She could not have heard him correctly. She blinked and looked up at him. The longing she saw in his eyes matched the longing in her heart and nearly overturned her resolve, but she lifted her chin even more and tried to smile.

Ah, a jest to set the tone for the evening,” she said as glibly as she could

I do not jest, I assure you, but I believe we should take our seats in readiness for the performance.”

In stunned silence, Emmaline took the arm he offered her. Lucius escorted her into the already darkened drawing room in which the evening’s entertainment was to take place. He procured seats for them, just as the performer made her entrance.

Catalani’s dark eyes swept her audience and commanded immediate quiet. She held them spellbound. Her audience waited. Her rich soprano voice began to fill the room and Emmaline felt a slight pressure on her hand. She glanced down to see Lucius’ hand resting gently on hers.
Her heart soared. Her pulse thumped as the soprano’s voice effortlessly rose and fell from one octave to another. Eyes closed, Emmaline remained motionless. She prayed that Lucius would not remove his hand and revelled in the warmth that radiated through the thin kidskin barrier of her gloves.
Her mind drifted. What if there were no barriers between them? What if she could remove his coat, his shirt? What if he slipped her gown off her shoulder? She shivered with pleasure at the image of his skin against hers.

Lucius turned her hand over and she felt the light pressure of his finger as he began to prescribe lazy circles in the palm of her hand. She gasped in shocked delight and, as that exploring finger travelled to the inside of her wrist and began to caress, felt a tremor run through her body.

Lulled by the melodies that washed over her, aflame from the sensations he stirred in her, she gave in. Relished the heat that emanated from Lucius’ hand and warmed her entire body. Wished the moment could last forever.

About Victoria

Victoria Chatham was born in Clifton, one of the oldest areas in Bristol, England.

Her very first attempts at writing, in crayon on a wall, were not appreciated. Being an army brat meant being constantly on the move and her best friends were always her books. But the writing bug had bitten and her first stories were written in pencil in scrappy exercise books. Marriage, motherhood, moving and work often took precedence over her writing which is now her full time occupation.

Apart from writing, Victoria is an avid reader of anything that catches her interest, from Regency and contemporary romance to thrillers. She loves horses and dogs, daily walks and gentle yoga. Her musical tastes range from classical to jazz, pop or country and western depending on her mood and enjoys a good chick flick as much as a Die Hard type action movie. She is a PAN member of Romance Writers of America and the Calgary chapter of RWA. She credits both organizations for supporting and furthering her writing ambitions and thanks Books We Love Ltd for taking her under their publishing wing.

Friday, August 15, 2014

Ingredients of Bliss Blog Tour Starts Today!

My BDSM ménage erotic romance The Ingredients of Bliss is now available for early download from Totally Bound! Just click here to get your VIP readers' copy, with a sizzling extra chapter written exclusively for TB customers. With streamlined one-click purchasing, close integration with all popular e-readers, and download rights that don't ever expire, Totally Bound has the most advanced bookselling site of any independent publisher.

Don't force yourself wait another month for the general release  - snag yourself a copy right now!

Today also marks the start of my fabulous Ingredients of Bliss blog tour. Fourteen stops - fourteen different posts - fourteen different excerpts - fourteen chances for you to win!

Since my heroine and one of the heroes are both chefs, I'm giving away prizes with a food-and-cooking theme.

  • First prize: $30 gift certificate to Sur La Table (
  • Second prize: $20 gift certificate to Whole Foods Market (
  • Third prize: Three-pack of ebooks from my back list, including a copy of Her Secret Ingredient, the prequel to The Ingredients of Bliss.

I'll also be giving a PDF copy of my own original cookbook, Recipes from an International Kitchen, to everyone who leaves a comment.
What's the book about? Here's the blurb.

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?

Accomplished cook Mei Lee “Emily” Wong knows exactly what she wants—her own show on the Tastes of France food channel. But life is full of complications. First, her deceptively nerdy producer, Harry Sanborne, initiates Emily into the delights of submission. Then her boss, legendary chef Etienne Duvalier, begs her to dominate him. Emily just can’t resist—especially when Harry orders her to explore her inner mistress. Suave and sexy Etienne will do whatever she asks—in the bedroom if not in the kitchen. And Harry, her lovingly diabolical Dom, adores pushing Emily’s limits.

When the network sends the trio to France to shoot a series of cooking shows on location, Emily knows her career is on the upswing. Her plans fall apart in Marseille as a Hong Kong drug syndicate kidnaps both Etienne and Harry. The Iron Hammer Triad mistakes Etienne for notorious gangster Jean Le Requin, who has stolen their drug shipment, worth millions. Emily realizes she must find the real Le Requin, retrieve the purloined dope, and bargain it for Harry’s and Etienne’s lives. The secret she’s been keeping from Harry might prove useful. Still, what chance does one woman whose knife skills are limited to chopping vegetables, have against the ruthless cruelty of two criminal organizations? 

Believe me, it's just as juicy as it sounds! I had a hard time finding PG excerpts for my tour hosts who preferred less spicy content!

The tour begins today over at K.D. Grace's blog, A Hopeful Romantic.

You'll find the full schedule below. I hope you'll join in the fun.

DateHostBlog address
8/15/2014 K D Grace
8/17/2014 Ashley Ladd
8/18/2014 Sabrina York
8/19/2014 Jennifer Wright
8/20/2014 H K Carlton
8/21/2014 Lucy Felthouse
8/22/2014 Ashe Barker
8/23/2014 Kay Dee Royal
8/25/2014 Ella Laurance
8/26/2014 L M Somerton
8/27/2014 Morticia Knight
8/28/2014 Tamsin Flowers
8/29/2014 Suz deMello
8/30/2014 Kryssie Fortune