Friday, May 26, 2017

Vive La France (#france #gourmet #bdsm)

Eiffel Tower

In April of 2013, my husband and I were fortunate enough to enjoy a two and a half week vacation in France. We traveled by train, in a broad circle that took us through much of the country. Starting in Paris, we visited historic Lyons, Annecy in the French Alps, Chamonix, lively Marseille, glorious Avignon, Carcassonne with its Crusader-era fortress, cosmopolitan Bordeaux, and medieval Normandy, before returning to Paris for several days. This incredible journey served as partial inspiration for my erotic romance novel The Ingredients of Bliss.

In this contemporary BDSM ménage, Mei Lee “Emily” Wong, an accomplished cook from Hong Kong, and her boss, the culinary legend Etienne Duvalier, are sent to France by the Toutes Les Saveurs network to shoot a series of shows on location, featuring regional cuisine and tourist highlights. Emily's master, producer Harry Sanborne, is also part of the entourage. Emily, Etienne and Harry retrace my steps, from Paris to Lyons to Marseille. In that gritty seaside melting pot, the story diverges from my itinerary, as a criminal gang kidnaps Harry and Etienne in a case of mistaken identity. (However, I did manage to include some scenes in Nice, which I visited on a previous trip to France.)

My stories always have a strong sense of place, and this one is no exception. Some authors deliberately set their tales in nameless cities – so as not to distract from the unfolding relationships, one friend told me. Of course every writer is different, but for me, the sights, sounds, smells and tastes surrounding my characters are important determinants of their thoughts and moods. Given that both Emily and Etienne are chefs, one can hardly imagine a more appropriate setting. Meanwhile, my recent experiences there made it easy for me to conjure vivid sensual impressions.

Magnificent France forms the backdrop for this tale of love, sex, danger and deliverance. If you enjoy travel tales, that's just one more reason to get yourself a copy of this lusty and transgressive romance.

Excerpt – Rated R

Emily?Harrys voice boomed through the corridors, as if in answer to my thoughts.

In here. In Dantès cell.

Harry had to duck to get through the low doorway.Ah. I should have figured Id find you in a dungeon.He smelled of sunscreen, sweat and musk. Like Pavlovs dog, I started to get wet in response to the familiar stimulus.

I fought my rising need.Hi, Harry. I was just about to head back…”

Before I could stop him, he’d clasped me to his chest. “I missed you, love.” He buried his nose in my wind-tousled hair, breathing deep then nibbled my ear. “You smell delicious.”

I tried to untangle myself from his arms. “I need a shower.” My laugh sounded hollow.

That’s why you smell so good. No, actually that’s not true. You always smell good. One whiff of your magic scent and I’m hard as a rock.”

He wasn’t lying. His erection prodded my belly as he ran his hands over my curves and burrowed into the crook of my neck.

Too bad there aren’t any iron rings or bars. You’d look so fetching, shackled to the dungeon wall.”

Harry, come one. Be serious!Once more I struggled against his embrace, without success. He only held me tighter. He was far stronger than I. My stomach did a dizzy little flip at this realization.Theyre probably waiting for us…”

He left off his nuzzling and gazed into my eyes. In the dim cell, his were full of shadows. “Let them wait. And I am serious, Emily. I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

I couldnt avoid the kiss. Honestly, I didnt want to. His mouth sealed itself to mine and his tongue forced my lips apart, claiming me. Lust roared through me, unleashed by the ferocity of his oral conquest. I tasted the sugary residue of his soft drink, the mint of his toothpaste, residual garlic and herbs from the ratatouille. His assertive male odor surrounded me, the essence of pure sex. I opened to him and let him take me. I had no choice.

He didn’t fondle my breasts or pinch my bottom or insinuate his fingers into my drenched knickers. He did nothing but kiss me, pouring every ounce of feeling into that mouth-to-mouth connection. Without the slightest stimulation, aside from his taste and smell, the firmness of his lips and the probing of his tongue, I found myself trembling on the verge of climax. Irresistible power flowed from him, overwhelming me. Helpless, lost and grateful, I let myself go.

He understood what he was doing to me. He felt my last resistance crumble. My plans, my qualms, my logic all came to nothing when faced with the intensity of his desire. And as I surrendered, the kiss changed.

Now he sipped at my mouth rather than swallowing me whole. His tongue feathered over my lips, coaxing me to let him enter. He breathed into me, warm and sweet, gentle as drifting clouds on a spring day. Holding me close, so close I could feel the heartbeat under his sweat-damp shirt, he bathed me in his devotion.

My sex still tingled and sparked, but now some other sensation swelled in my chest, a rare joy that seemed on the edge of triggering both laughter and tears.

I love you, Emily.His voice was rough velvet, his lips moist against my cheek.More than I can ever say. More than I know what to do with.

Tell him, my rational self whimpered, weaker by the instant. Tell him youre leaving, before its too late.

I raised my face to his and offered him my mouth, and the truth.

I love you, too.”

Get your copy today!

Thursday, May 25, 2017

Not your average erotica anthology! (#Rule34Antho #fetish #erotica)

Rule 34 cover

I’ve got a story in Rule 34, a fabulous new erotica anthology from Sexy Little Pages.

Rule 34: if it exists, someone’s kinky for it.

Away from those high-end fetish clubs, alpha billionaires and join-the-dots BDSM ‘journeys’, there are almost limitless possibilities for the erotic imagination. Rule 34 contains ten very different stories of uncommon desires and strange, lustful obsessions. Some are delicious, some will unsettle you, some might even make you cry.

There’s a sexy skeleton, a dominatrix dentist, an innovative method of combining two incompatible fetishes, an office affair with a difference, and many more surprises inside. If you’ve ever had a fantasy too surreal to share with anyone else, you are definitely not alone. Take a walk on the weird side: you won’t regret it.

Rule 34 is out now from Sexy Little Pages. Get your copy today!

Here’s a bit from my contribution, “Fire”.

The sky to the east was lit up like sunrise was on its way early. There was a strong eastward breeze, too, making the leaves restless. I ran barefoot along the sidewalk, the hot wind urging me on toward that eerie false dawn.

As I rounded the corner of Maple and Main, a spear of flame rocketed up above the trees. My knees suddenly went weak. It was the Saunders' place: Jim Saunders, who used to play poker with my dad, before. When Mom was still around. His old clapboard house was burning like tinder.

Something swelled in my chest. I could hardly breathe. I joined the crowd milling on the sidewalk across the street from the blaze, neighbors in pajamas and hair rollers, strangers in uniforms barking orders into walkie-talkies. I took no notice of them. I couldn't take my eyes off the fire.

Flame swirled around the two-story house, twisting and flowing through the structure like liquid light. The vacant windows filled with orange and gold tongues that licked away at the outer wall, gradually melting it away to charcoal and then to ash. It was terrible and glorious.

The flames drew me as nothing ever had. I craved them, wanted to feel their burning caress on my sweaty skin. I wanted to be consumed. For one crazy moment, I almost gave in to the need, almost broke through the ranks of police and firemen and threw myself into the blaze.

Something shifted. I felt the flames inside of me. They surged through my body, tasting my fear and my lust. They teased me, rippling up and down my spine. The heat was unbearable.

My dick went hard as rock. My breath came in gasps. I wanted to grab my cock and jerk away at it until the flames spurted out but, somehow, I was paralyzed, hands clenched into fists by my side.

I watched, fascinated, as the fire whirled and eddied through the shell of the house. I felt it circling my dick, searing my rigid flesh. I heard a strange sound, some animal whining in pain. I realized dimly that it was my own voice.


If you’re looking for something different in your erotica, snag yourself a copy of this amazing book!

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

How to Feed Captive Shifters (@ShariElderBooks #shifter #romance #food)

Unnatural Allies cover

By Shari Elder (Guest Blogger)

Have you ever walked into a restaurant, in a house, or just down the street when a smell tickles your nose, your stomach grumbles louder than a rock band, and your mind fixates on food? When there’s not a granola bar or several sticks of gum nearby to calm the cravings, do you design ever more elaborate meals to feed those hungers?

In my latest paranormal romance, Unnatural Allies (Shifting Alliances #2), Nicca, my wolf shifter is held captive by a insane fae woman, who casts a spell that prevents her from shifting. Trapped in human form, worried and hungry, she goes a little crazy with the meal planning. I didn’t mean to write this part in, but it took over my brain, and gave me immense pleasure to put it to the page. Since food is another sensual pleasure, I thought it would be fun to share what Nicca created. They are all so scrumptious and provide ready-made meal plans the next time you invite a shifter for dinner.

  • Salmon with potatoes roasted with rosemary and green beans sautéed in garlic butter.
  • Ribs slathered in Texas barbecue, on top of cheese-crusted mash potatoes followed by mango-raspberry swirled mousse with a wafer as spoon or a wedge of lemon meringue pie with a mint leaf for garnish, ending with cappuccino spiked with Kahlua or amaretto.
  • Oatmeal raisin cookies with carrot and chocolate chips and a big glass of milk or hazelnut coffee with cream
  • A grilled cheese sandwich with Portobello mushrooms, green onion and tomato with a side of horseradish coleslaw followed by vanilla-iced gingerbread and a peppermint tea chaser.

Once I started down this track in the story, I couldn’t stop the ideas from flowing. That’s a bit how the book itself came to be. I had written Shifter Trials (Book #1 Shifting Alliances) as a stand-alone story. Nicca and the hero, Evan, were secondary characters. Once I started with them, I couldn’t stop. I’m happy to introduce Unnatural Allies, a love story between a rat alpha and a wolf beta and food is actually a problem. Thanks for dropping by.


A World in Transition

Violent fae encroachment on shifter land is heating up. With death tolls rising, the impossible becomes necessary – an alliance among predator and prey shifters.

An Inconceivable Love

Nicca Baron, lone wolf and wolf clan beta, finds herself under the command of Evan Grant, the rat alpha. In different circumstances, he’d be dinner. Or so her wolf keeps reminding her. Evan proves to be a perceptive leader, a skilled fighter and irresistible to her lonely heart.

To rule the rats, you have to rule the pack. Evan is a whiz at managing people and groups. Until he finds himself leading a mission made up of every single large animal that thrives on rat flesh. And not the kind between his legs. The only bright light is Nicca. Her storm gray eyes miss nothing, her brilliant mind comprehends everything and her succulent curves offer the perfect place for a rat to nestle.

An Impossible Future

In each other’s arms, Nicca and Evan discover love and a new perspective in an off-kilter world. But a wolf cannot mate with a rat, no matter the strength of the human attraction.

Buy Links



Evan had never seen Nicca look frightened before. Those silver eyes expanded into saucers, and they were still beautiful. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, just hold her close as they both tried to process a world spinning out of control. Even his rat wanted to comfort her.

She was getting under skin and fur.

The last leaves hung limp on the branches, resisting winter’s pull. Away from the sidhe, the air had warmed, although the sky retained a grayish winter hue. Shifter bodies held heat, keeping them comfortable in the most brutal frost. Evan burned hot from continuous movement, the too frequent adrenaline spikes, and Nicca’s nearness. Everything about her fit, like she was made for him. That agile mind, open-mindedness, those lush curves. Hell, she even spouted poetry. He yearned to put a sign around her neck—no trespassing, this woman belongs to Evan Grant.

Except for that whole wolf thing…

Why don’t we find a comfortable place to set up camp near Fairy Falls and call it a day?” he said to get his mind back to practical things, not wishing for something he couldn’t have. He told himself he selected the location as part of the mission. All species declared the pristine, wild falls a safe zone, so they wouldn’t need the wolves or eagles to stand guard. The fact that it was the number one rated site for shifter romances had nothing to do with the selection. Nothing at all.

No one would ever accuse Nicca of talking too much, but she was withdrawn even for her on the hike to the Falls. “Any suggestions on places to sleep?” he asked when her silence got too loud for him.

I’ve, uh, never really been here,” she whispered, looking at the ground. “Just run by it on patrols sometimes.”

And that makes you sad?” He itched to run his hand down her cheek.

This mission makes me sad.” Her gaze stayed lowered as she walked.

His rat senses perceived a deep despondency wrapped around her like a black aura.

This mission makes you angry, anxious, and confused. Not sad.”

Who are you to correct my assessment of my emotional state?” She gave him a half-hearted snarl. He figured he’d hit an open, raw nerve.

I lead this mission, and I will not have you fall apart on me. Right now, you are not okay.” He opened his arm, aping Rafe’s earlier action, inviting her to him to take comfort. “Let me help.” Let me touch you.

She visibly shook herself, ignoring his outstretched limb. “You’re right. I need space. Let me run as wolf.”

He dropped his hand, then nodded to cover the ripping sound his heart was making. “Stay close,” he said over the lump of disappointment lodged in his throat. “Give me your backpack, and I’ll find a place to sleep. Meet me at the falls when you’re done.”

Relief brightened her eyes. Once shifted, she brushed against his leg, then licked at his hand dangling by his side. He ran his fingers through her thick, gray fur touched with black and silver as she trotted off. “Grab some happy, Nicca,” he said into the air, as she raced out of sight. Come back to me. Accept me.

Alone, he hummed as he walked toward the falls. The low tune soothed his skittish rat, who hated being alone and wasn’t too fond of the woods. Rats felt secure in the pack. The human in him appreciated the red gold of the sunset streaking across the powder blue of the sky, weaving in and out of spiky, hunter green firs that ate up the landscape. Beauty truly did soothe an aching heart. The whirr of winter birds, a chorus to his ears, unnerved the rat. He picked up his pace, following the smell of ice and the roar of the falling water.

When he arrived at the falls, he saw Nicca standing at the edge of the descending water, running her fingers through the stream. That sadness he’d sensed earlier scented the air and dulled those unique gray eyes. Following a powerful intuition, he approached quietly, staying upwind so she wouldn’t notice until he stood directly behind her. She may have rejected his offer of support earlier, but he was determined to try again. His way.

She turned to face him, and tilted her head up to meet his gaze. He pushed behind one ear a lock of hair that was draped along her cheek. The tresses felt like silk, the skin velvet against his fingertips.


He leaned over, touching lips to lips ever so gently. Giving comfort. Sneaking a taste. Exploring what might be. She pressed back, her mouth opening slightly beneath his. He sank into cherry and cinnamon, shyness and heat. She didn’t require a friend; she needed a lover. He desperately wanted to be that man.

He pulled back, falling hard for the blush staining her cheeks a bright pink.

Follow me,” he said, taking her hand, and led her to the camping spot he noticed along the way.

To love a wolf.

About Shari

Hello, I'm Shari. By day, I crawl out of bed, mainline coffee, walk the dog, get my kid off to school, hop on the metro, and save cities within the four walls of my office. Usually by email.

At night, the other Shari emerges. I take off the suit, curl up on the couch and let my imagination play, with words and images until stories take shape (while periodically checking on my teen-ager, hiding out in the bedroom and plotting world domination with her furry minions).  As my alter ego, I save cities in a cape and spangled tights, wander space and time on a surfboard, fly over the Himalayas on feathered wings, make six-toed footprints in indigo talc snow on the sixth planet in the Andromeda galaxy or eavesdrop on Olympian gods while pretending to whip up a bowl of ambrosia.

In all these wondrous worlds, romance and passion blossom. I can't resist a happy ending. And I am particularly prone to writing happy endings for those who have given up on ever getting one. That gives me immense satisfaction. 

Join me on my journey. The best ideas emerge from team work.

Hang out with Shari on the Web

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Review Tuesday: The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters (#lesbian #thriller #historical)

The Paying Guests cover

The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters
Riverhead Books, 2014

Frances Wray lives a rather dismal and claustrophobic life in 1922 London. She spends her days cooking and cleaning for her widowed mother, trying to maintain the illusion of gentility though they’re nearly bankrupt. In her scarce free time she mourns the loss of her two brothers, taken by the War, and her former lover Christina, now coupled with another woman.

Desperate to make ends meet, Frances and her mother decide to rent out several rooms. Their lodgers —the “paying guests” of the title—are not the sort of people with whom the Wrays usually associate. Lilian and Leonard Barber come from a different social class, and have different habits and values. They smoke and drink, play the gramophone and dance, host parties and play naughty games. They are a “modern” couple, with much freer manners than the more traditional Wrays.

Though their presence constitutes a painful invasion of Frances’ privacy, the Barbers also bring some color to her drab life. She finds Lilian fascinating, with her bright clothing, costume jewelry, knick knacks and gewgaws, as well as her rather poor and common but boisterously affectionate family. Flirtatious and good-looking, Leonard proves to be a challenge, emphatically and uncomfortably male in what had been an all-female household.

Lilian and Frances become friends, then more than friends, after Frances confesses her former affair with Christina and the younger woman admits how deeply unhappy she is with Leonard. As they grow closer, they struggle to hide their forbidden passion from the world. Then their secret triggers a series of tragic events that entangle them in shared guilt and tear apart their mutual trust.

The Paying Guests is a phenomenally good book. It is simultaneously an historical and social commentary, a terrifying thriller and a steamy lesbian romance. Ms. Waters manages to capture the fleeting nuances of emotion with astounding precision. Her characters live and breathe. Their relationships exhibit all the contrariness and complexity of real human interaction, shifting and reshaping from one moment to the next.

Sarah Waters is known for her rich portrayals of the past. Compared to the colorful Victorian era she captured so expertly in Tipping the Velvet and Fingersmith, her post-War London feels grim and unsettled, full of uncertainty and suppressed violence. The Great War shattered illusions and remade society. A whole generation of young men died. At the same time, new opportunities opened for women brave enough to take advantage of them.

Despite these new possibilities, women were far from free. Ms. Waters’ horrifying description of a pharmaceutical abortion makes this stunningly clear. Frances chooses to break off her relationship with Christina when they are discovered, rather than being repudiated by her family. Unable to support herself, terrified of being alone, Lilian is trapped in her loveless marriage to philandering Leonard.

All these uncertainties and pressures, as much as their mutual attraction, drive Frances and Lilian into each other’s arms. Their lovemaking is furtive but intense. Without being anywhere nearly as graphic as I (for instance) might be, the author paints scenes that are gorgeously erotic.
But already the darkness was lessening. Lilian was beside her, a shimmer, a blur. She put out her hands and they found her face, they found her lips: they were smooth, cool, wet. She kissed them again, even as she touched them, kissing around and across her own fingers. She drew her hands, damply, to Lilian’s throat, to the silky skin at the opening of her nightgown.

The gown had three small buttons on it, hard and round. She undid the first, and then the second.

May I do this?’

She felt Lilian hesitate. But the third button was undone now; now she had parted the cloth, had dipped her head, was stroking and kissing. And after another few seconds of it Lillian moved forward with a sigh to meet the touch of her fingers and her mouth. Her breasts were warm, fantastically heavy, fantastically hard at the tips. Beyond was the thud, thud of her heart—Frances kissed every beat of it.

Finally, The Paying Guests incorporates all the tension of a mystery, a period police procedural complete with swaggering officers, severe judges and dodgy witnesses. This last section of the book was painful to read, as guilt, secrets and circumstances conspire to drive Frances and Lilian apart. I couldn’t stop, though, no matter how dark the story became. I needed to know the verdict—even if things were going to end as badly as it seemed.

I won’t tell you how the book does end, though. I don’t want to spoil the experience.

The Paying Guests is not as much of a feel-good novel as Tipping the Velvet. It’s not as cleverly constructed as Fingersmith. However, it’s one of the most vivid and realistic portrayals of the human heart I have ever read.

Monday, May 22, 2017

Sneak Peek: Shopping for a CEO's Wife by @JKentAuthor (#romcom #elopement #shopping)

Teaser graphic


Snowbound. Sounds so romantic, with visions of cuddling before a roaring fire, hot chocolate spiked with brandy, and a secret elopement.

Wait. What?

My fiancé's father won't stop trying to turn our pending wedding into a three-ring media circus so he can get free publicity for his family's Fortune 500 company. My mother has decided she's done with All Things Wedding and asks her teacup Chihuahua for mother-of-the-bride advice.

They've all gone certifiably mad.

Then the stress from the wedding puts my mother in the hospital, I scream at my future father-in-law in front of a camera crew and the video goes viral, and the romantic wedding that started with Andrew's grand Pride and Prejudice proposal looks less like Jane Austen and more like Dostoyevsky.

So what do you do when you're a fixer and you can't fix something?

You give up on it.

Not on Andrew, silly.

The wedding.

Shopping for a CEO's Wife is the 12th book in Julia Kent's New York Times bestselling Shopping series. As Shannon and Declan enjoy their newlywed bliss, Andrew's father wants to exploit Amanda and Andrew's nuptials, much to Amanda's chagrin. Can she learn to stand up to her future father-in-law and fight for what's right? But the real question is: will Spritzy the teacup Chihuahua end up being a flower girl?

Buy links

Google Play:


Experiencing a season together for the first time when you’re in a new relationship is a rite of passage. For instance, my idea of a fun winter activity involves reading under a thick, fuzzy blanket, snuggling up to a roaring fire, and drinking hot chocolate.

Andrew, on the other hand, likes to race down a snow-covered mountain at speeds that would qualify him for the Indy 500.

Guess where we are now?

I am not going down that double black diamond trail. No way,” I declare, staring at an incline of doom on this mountaintop in Vermont. As I stare down the slope, I wonder what kind of sick bastard planted thirty-foot giant pine trees in the middle of a ski trail.

The sun is shining on this fine Saturday in December. You can’t see my engagement ring, which is hidden by gloves so thick, I might as well box instead of ski. Warming packets tucked away in pockets near the wrists aren’t really helping, because in my terror, all the blood in my body has gone to my gut, which is currently screaming “Run away! Run away!” while leaving my hands and feet to turn into frozen concrete.

Andrew’s response?

A grin.

About the Author

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down

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