I Did It!

It's the last day of 2013. I set myself a goal - to get halfway through my WIP, a new novel entitled Her Secret Weapon, before the start of the New Year.

And I did it! Just pushed the word count past 30,000, as my heroine had an inspiration as to how to rescue her two kidnapped lovers...

Sound like fun? You'll have to wait...

Meanwhile, I hope all of my readers and followers have a fantastic New Year's Eve, and that 2014 brings you peace, prosperity, love and laughter.

Happy New Year!

What Wouuld I Tell an Unpublished Author?

By Rebecca Lee Smith (Guest Blogger)

To never, ever, ever, ever, ever give up.

I know it’s cliché. And I know hearing that (again) makes writers who are on the long, lonely road to publication, and want to place their book with a traditional publisher, feel like throwing something against the wall. Or at me.

But it’s true.

A Shadow on the Ground is the second book I’ve published, but the sixth book I’ve written. Book Number Five (the first book I sold) was rejected over forty times before someone wanted it. Book Number Four received ninety-six rejections in the span of one year. Some of these rejections were from publishers, but the majority were from agents who clearly thought the work I produced was unsalable. I had several requests for full manuscripts, synopses, partials, bios, and more chapters. If they asked to see it, I sent it out. Over and over again.

We’ve all read articles about surviving the query process, and taken to heart the platitudes that are supposed to keep us going. Throw the query net wide and deep. Be patient. Don’t get discouraged. Believe in yourself. Cream rises to the top. But what if it doesn’t? I asked myself. What if I’m sending out manuscripts five years from now, and the rejection numbers stay the same? What if cream doesn’t rise to the top? And then a voice deep inside my soul whispered, But what if it does?

The query process can be heartbreaking. Especially those close, close calls. I’ve been writing for over twenty years with lots of stops and starts when life got in the way. Throughout the process, I’ve experienced incredible highs and lows. I’ve won and placed in numerous contests. I’ve had goodhearted agents and publishers write gems of encouragement across the bottom of their rejection letters. But I’ve also had agents ask for the full manuscript, keep it for three months, then reject me with a form letter. Or, in one case, never respond at all. One publisher asked for revisions, then held on to the revised version for thirteen months and rejected me with a form letter. (Gotta love those form letters!) I’ve had an agent call me on the phone to tell me she loved my book and would really like to represent me (my heart stopped), if only she had room for another author in her stable. Well, the list goes on.

I remember reading an interview with a well-known multi-published author who was bemoaning the fact that she had sent her first manuscript to five different agents before she secured representation. Five agents. Wow, I thought. How in the world did she ever cope with that kind of rejection? Sarcasm aside, it all boils down to this: Everyone has their own path to follow. Some are rocky, some are smooth, and some wind their way through the forest and back out again. But if you give up and sit by the side of the road because it’s just too damned hard to keep going, you will never reach your goal.

There were times when I pulled back and regrouped. Times when I faced the cold, hard truth that the manuscript I had been rewriting for over a year would never work and find the courage to move on to something new. I’ve screamed and cried and threatened to toss my computer out the window. But I never gave up. I kept going and going and going, just like that old Energizer Bunny. And a few days ago, I stood and wept as I held a copy of my second book, A Shadow on the Ground, in my hands. It still feels that good.

So, whoever you are, and whatever you write, just keep flinging those finished manuscripts out into the world, and sooner or later, one will land on the desk of someone who “gets” you and loves your work. But until that happens, you have to keep trying. Because there’s no way you can win the lottery if you don’t get in the car, drive to the store, and buy the damned ticket. Or five.

*****

So let me tell you a bit about A Shadow on the Ground. After you read my excerpt, use the Rafflecopter widget below to enter my blog tour giveaway. You might win a $50 gift certificate to Amazon or Barnes & Noble!

Blurb

Morgan Maguire is afraid to believe in second chances. The family orchard is failing, her twin brother is being framed for murder, and the sharks are circling. The tough exterior she's spent years hiding behind is beginning to crumble, just as the man who shattered her heart is back in her life. Gage Kirkland is as compelling and magnetic as ever, and he's offering the kind of help she may not be able to refuse. But can she trust him?

To finance his troubled son's therapy, Gage, a former investigator, takes one last job--recovering a stolen Civil War artifact. Unfortunately, it's in the possession of the woman he left behind, the woman who's haunted his dreams ever since. The electricity between them still crackles, but unless he helps exonerate her brother and finds a way to confess his true reason for returning, how will he ever recover Morgan's heart?

Excerpt

Gage grinned, making Morgan’s heart beat in slow, rolling thuds. “I'm going to make some calls about finding Sean representation. If he goes up against a murder charge, he'll need the best lawyer we can find.”

“We?”

“We.”

He held her gaze while a current of electricity sliced a path through the center of her abdomen.

“I didn't want to leave you alone last night,” he said.

“I was fine.”

“Well, I wasn't.”

“Oh, come on. A big, tough, adrenaline junkie PI like you?”

“Not so tough when the bullets are flying.”

Memories of the night before slammed into her brain—the sound of gunshots cracking the air, Gage pushing her off the flagstone walk, lying stone still beside him in the wet grass with a broken rhododendron stob biting into her neck. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel his breath crashing across her shoulder, the pulse at the base of his throat flicking against her cheek. How long had it been since she’d touched a man? Or been wrapped like his most cherished possession in the strong, shielding warmth of his arms? Had she ever felt so safe? Would she ever feel that safe again?

Maybe she should hold on to the memory. Bury it deep. Then, when she needed comfort, she could take it out and replay it over and over in her head to drive the unbearable loneliness away. Until something that felt like contentment trickled through her bloodstream, like a double shot of apple brandy on a cold, wintry night.

A shadow fell over the table.

She lifted her eyes and gasped softly. The last thing she expected to see were the pale, twisted, angry eyes of Lawrence Finch.

About Rebecca

Rebecca lives with her husband in the beautiful, misty mountains of East Tennessee, where the people are charming, soulful, and just a little bit crazy. She's been everything from a tax collector to a stay-at-home mom to a house painter to a professional actress and director. When she's not churning out sensual romantic mysteries with snappy dialogue and happy endings, she likes to travel, go to the Outer Banks for her ocean fix, watch old movies, hang out at the local pub, and make her day complete by correctly answering the Final Jeopardy! question.

www.rebeccaleesmith.com.

Twitter - @rbeccaleesmith

Amazon Author Page – http://amzn.to/1aEqJo4

Ebook - http://amzn.to/1chj56X

Print – http://www.amazon.com/Shadow-Ground-Rebecca-Lee-Smith/dp/1612179819/

Use the widget below to enter my drawing! And I hope you'll visit the other stops on my tour, too. You can find the schedule here:

http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2013/11/virtual-book-tour-shadow-on-ground-by.html

The more often you enter, the higher your chances of winning.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Sunday Snog #106: Rough Weather

I've been busy over the last couple of days editing Rough Weather, which will be available for pre-order on January 17th. So I thought I'd treat you to a bit from that tale for my Sunday snog - the last snog of 2013!

After savoring my snog, don't forget to visit Blisse Kiss Central to enjoy more sexy oral excerpts!

He dangled the rope end between her spread thighs and drew it upward to lightly brush her pubic curls. Electric pleasure arced down to her core. Her pussy clamped down on empty space. “Do it,” she gasped, as he flipped the rope back and forth across her mound, grazing her clit. The panic fled, drowned in sensation. “Oh, please, Marut!”

He chuckled, but in delight, not mockery, then seized her wrists with strong fingers and drew them over her head. Lust surged whenever, wherever he touched her. Faint echoes of fear returned with the first loop of rope around her crossed hands, but the purse of his firm lips upon her nipple banished her last reservations.

A gentle tug on her shoulders told her he’d fastened the rope to the brass curlicues of the headboard.

 

“Too tight?” he asked, sweeping the tangles off her brow and smoothing them across the pillow. 

 

Incoherent with lust, she could do no more than shake her head. 

 

“Try to get free.”

She discovered that, aside from a bit of side-to-side wriggling, her upper body was quite thoroughly immobilised. 

 

“Lovely. Now your legs.”

When he lashed her ankles to the corners of the footboard, spreading her thighs wide to display her drenched and swollen sex, she thought she’d pass out from the arousal. Once more, she felt the tangible pressure of his gaze as he drank in the sight of her, bound and helpless. The ripe smell of the ocean drifted up from her brazenly exposed folds. She’d die if he didn’t touch her again, soon. 

 

“You’re so incredibly beautiful,” he murmured. “Beyond my wildest dreams.” 

 

Lashed to the bed, she couldn’t see him any longer, though she felt the shift as he mounted the far end of mattress. A rush of warm breath invaded her sensitised cunt. She jerked against her bonds. 

 

“Oh, God. Please, Marut!” A breeze tickled the inside of her right thigh, then fluttered down to her bare flesh to her toes. “Oh!” She squirmed as the stream of air traced the same path down her left leg. “What are you doing? Ah...!”

He was visible now, a dark form kneeling between her pale thighs as he bent to blow into her navel, then swept the air stream across her rigid nipples. She arched, straining for actual skin-to-skin contact. Marut just grinned and blew into her armpit. 

 

“Don’t tease me. I can’t stand it!” The tantalizing gusts trailed down across her belly, back toward her sex. Her clit pulsed hard and hungry at the apex of her soaked folds, the centre of her need. He loosed a stream of hot air aimed directly at the aching bud and she screamed at the literally unbearable intensity of the sensation.

“Ondine...?” Alarmed by her outburst, he backed away. As soon as he did, she wanted him back. 

 

“Marut, I can’t bear any more...”

“Do you think you’re ready?” There was that hint of laughter again in his rich, deep voice. She wanted to kill him for making her wait. No, that wasn’t right. All she wanted was to fuck him. That was her single all-consuming desire.

“Yes! Oh, yes! I’m ready! Please, I’m begging you...”

Hovering over her, supporting his weight on his powerful arms, he smiled into her eyes. “You don’t have to beg, cherie. I’m yours.” 

 

He captured her mouth in a fierce kiss flavoured with smoke and spice. As his tongue slid between her lips, his cock split her below, stretching her further, filling her completely. She clenched around him as a cyclone of delight raged through her. She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist, to pull him deeper, but the ropes prevented all but the most limited movement. As he withdrew, she whimpered at the loss, then rejoiced as he plunged back inside. 

 

Stories for When the Sun Goes Down

By Lily Harlem (Guest Blogger)

Hi Lisabet, thank you so much for inviting me over to Beyond Romance at this festive time of year. I adore getting together with friends with a glass of mulled wine and a mince pie even if it’s virtually, and today I’ve brought with me my new collection of erotic and romantic tales – Stories for When the Sun Goes Down .

This is a very special set of stories to me as they are an enormous part of my journey to becoming an author of erotic romance. Each one holds a piece of my writing history and built my confidence and I’m grateful to the editors who gave me a chance and published my first words. (All of these stories have been published in a variety of US and UK anthologies over the last five years and you can find out more about this on my website)

So what’s everyone up to this Christmas week? I’ve been staying home with Mr Harlem which is my favourite thing to do. We had family visit for the big turkey dinner, which Mr H provided and I cooked, that was fun ‘and’ tiring. Then as is our tradition we wrapped up warm and went for a lovely long beach walk on Boxing Day with the dogs, and then come home, lit the fire, opened a bottle of red and lounged in front of the TV nibbling leftovers from the day before. This year our Boxing Day film of choice was Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, an old musical that my mother always adored and it took me back to my childhood. I love all the dresses and how the guys scrub up so nice at the end, and in particular the barn building scene which is half fight, half dance. I’m not a mad fan of musicals but these brothers all finding themselves a bride is one that tugs my heartstrings.

New Years Eve is of course still to come and it’s always fun in our village. The pub is the focal point for the festivities and since everyone can walk there it gets pretty lively as the beer flows and the corks are popped! Often it’s too full for Auld Lang Sign indoors and whatever the weather everyone piles into the car park to link hands and get all emotional as the church bell rings out midnight. It’s great fun and I really enjoy the atmosphere and seeing everyone’s faces as they think back to the year just gone and then forward to the year ahead.

So what’s in my year ahead? Well, to stay happy and healthy and enjoy every moment I can of my life and continue to be thankful for the wonderful man who loves me and whom I love in return. As for my writing, I’m breaking into paranormal for the first time this year. Both Bite Mark and Claw Mark will be hitting the virtual shelves at Ellora’s Cave. I’ve also got more Hot Ice set to release, that’s Misconduct and Russian Heat. I’m continuing with projects with Natalie Dae (we publish under the name Harlem Dae) and Lucy Felthouse. I’m looking forward to getting to Eroticon in Bristol (March) and spending time with fellow Brit Babes (I wish my lovely hostess, Lisabet could join us but it’s a bit too far for her to travel!) and I’m tentatively planning a trip to the US in October to Romanticon where I’ll be able to put faces to the names of my wonderful colleagues at Ellora's Cave .

No doubt I’ll write a few more short stories that will end up in anthologies and they’ll all become part of this rich and exciting path I’ve chosen as a writer. If you’d like to pick up a copy of Stories for When the Sun Goes Down here are the contents and buy links.

Contents

Madam President

The Champagne Whore

Shy Bird

The Actress

Making Shapes

I Promise to Please

I Promise to Surrender

I Promise to Perform

A Classic Wedding Night

Stable Manners

Buy Links

Stories for When the Sun Goes Down - Amazon

Stories for When the Sun Goes Down - Amazon UK

Thank you so much for letting me natter on, Lisabet, and visitors, please tell me your plans for Christmas, I’d love to know what your family traditions are and your favourite ‘must see’ Christmas movies.

Lily x

PS – Some special offers going on this week and freebies, details on my blog.

Lily Harlem Links

Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/

Blog http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/

Twitter https://twitter.com/lily_harlem

Facebook http://en-gb.facebook.com/people/Lily-Harlem/100003519563064

Facebook author page http://www.facebook.com/pages/Lily-Harlem-author-page/200182030094568

Pinterest http://pinterest.com/lilyharlem/

Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4070110.Lily_Harlem

Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/106837751333678531161/posts

Harlem Dae http://www.harlemdae.com

Raw Talent http://rawtalentseries.co.uk

BritBabes http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk

Newsletter Subscription http://www.lilyharlem.com/newsletter-subscription.html

 

Something Sweet for Christmas

Greetings, all!

For Christmas, I thought I'd share something a bit sweeter than yesterday's fare. This is my favorite kiss, of all the kisses I've written. It comes from my M/M/F holiday tale, Almost Home.

Wishing you a Christmas full of beauty, joy and love...

The kiss caught her off guard.

One moment Suzanne was standing in the doorway to Helena’s den, scanning the occupants and wondering if she knew anyone at all at this party. The next moment someone twirled her around and fastened a pair of firm lips on hers. Out of instinct or habit, she closed her eyes. The darkness heightened her other senses. Powerful arms circled her body and pulled her against a fuzzy male chest. Her partner’s scent rose around her, a complex mix of soap and musk, evergreen and wood smoke. His tongue teased the seam where her lips met and she let him enter, her self-protective reflexes dulled by his warmth and the glass of merlot she’d downed on her arrival. His mouth tasted of eggnog and candy canes, appropriately seasonal. He was delicious, in fact—not just his mouth but the quiet confidence of his probing tongue, the sculpted muscle she felt under his sweater, his bold hands wandering across her back to her buttocks. She hadn’t enjoyed a kiss like this in a long time.

She’d felt chilled and tense ever since her plane touched down in frigid Boston but now her muscles began to unknot. He was a miniature sun, melting her, turning her languid and dreamy. She clutched at his solid form and returned his kiss, trading heat for heat. Tropical colours paraded behind her eyelids—fuschia, lime, peach, and aqua—shimmering like the water in her pool back home. She even began to perspire, her long-sleeved velvet dress suddenly too warm for comfort.

He pulled her full hips against his lean ones. A tell-tale lump, wonderfully hard, pressed against her belly. Her panties and tights dampened, too.

Normally she would have resisted but stress and alcohol made her susceptible. She allowed the kiss to lengthen and deepen, sinking into the pure pleasure of it.

A smattering of applause brought her back to awareness. “Whoa there!” hooted one of the guests. “You two want some privacy?”

Suzanne broke away from the man who had ambushed her. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Embarrassment added a sharp edge to her voice.

The dark haired man favoured her with a grin. “Mistletoe,” he said, pointing upward. Sure enough, a cluster of green leaves and pale berries dangled from the door frame. He could scarcely contain his laughter. 

 

A Visit from Mistress Nicole

  A Visit from Mistress Nicole by Lisabet Sarai


'Twas the night before Christmas.
Outside the snow fell,
But inside Club O,
It was hotter than hell.
The slaves were all hung
on their crosses with care
in hopes that their dominants
soon would be there.
The Doms were preparing
the racks and nail beds
with visions of ropework
and chains in their heads.
My pet wore her collar
and I with my tawse
was laying down stripes
red as old Mr. Claus.

When out at the entrance
arose such a clatter
I left my cuffed slut
to see what was the matter.

The light on her breasts
was like new-fallen snow
when compared to the crimson
silk corset below.
Her hair was like fire,
her lips were like cherries,
a ruby stud winked
in the dip of her belly.
Her black leather boots
clasped her legs to the thigh.
Her emerald eyes twinkling,
she raised her whip high.

"I've come to reward
all the masochist perverts
for all the year's humble
and diligent service."
Though as purely a top
as you're likely to meet,
I admit I was tempted
to kneel at her feet.

She strode into the dungeon
with oiled single tail.
Her lash made the subbies
all quiver and quail.
To each bottom's lips
the delicious Domme bent;
she wouldn't do more
till she had their consent.

But then she let loose
while we tops watched in awe
as she happily flogged
half a dozen subs raw.
"Now, baby - oh, boyo!
Breathe, girly - Now, Pet!
Take this now! Don't move!
Are you hard? Are you wet?"
As her whip kissed their flesh
we all thrilled at the sight,
while their asses turned scarlet,
their spirits took flight.

Till at last she relented,
the ritual done,
and we Doms found that we,
like our slaves, had all come.

And we heard her exclaim
as she vanished from sight:
"Merry Kinkmas to all!
May your bonds remain tight!"
Happy Holidays to All!

Sneak Peek: Girls Rule, Boys Drool

[Got a sneak peek for you today the amazingly prolific Lucy Felthouse. She's showcasing her collection of lesbian erotica, Girls Rule, Boys Drool. Enjoy! ~ Lisabet]

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Blurb

Three lesbian erotic short stories from popular writer Lucy Felthouse.

Girls Rule, Boys Drool

Boyish dyke Toni is working at the local golf club, serving champagne to arrogant, privileged folk when she spots Clarissa. She’s one of the posh people, but she looks like she’d rather be somewhere else—anywhere else. Toni’s immediately smitten and wants to put a smile on the older woman’s beautiful face, so she decides to show Clarissa just why girls rule and boys drool.

Making An Impression

Joely’s holiday has consisted mainly of chilling out by the hotel pool, having the occasional swim and reading lots. That is, until a hot brunette arrives and suddenly, Joely has trouble concentrating on anything else. Her gaydar non-existent, Joely decides on an unusual course of action to find out whether the newcomer bats for the same side as she does.

Fear as an Aphrodisiac

Girlfriends Nikki and Sonya are on holiday in Edinburgh, Scotland’s capital city. They’re having fun sightseeing, until a super-scary tourist attraction sends Nikki into meltdown. Once outside again, Nikki slowly starts to feel better—and, much to her surprise, horny. Quickly realising that the fear has acted as a potent aphrodisiac, she decides to take advantage of that fact, right there in the middle of the city.

Available from:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

All Romance Ebooks

Coming soon to all other good eBook retailers.

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/19230294-girls-rule-boys-drool

Excerpt:

Finally, Nikki and Sonya found the turning off Edinburgh’s Royal Mile that they needed. They’d expected a road, but Mary King’s Close was nothing more than a narrow passageway that looked like it led to the next street along. Glancing at one another, it seemed both girls suspected they were in the wrong place—despite the name of the alleyway—but as they headed along the close, they came across more signage and discovered they were wrong. The signs proclaimed that they were indeed at The Real Mary King’s Close, and this time they exchanged a relieved look and moved inside the tourist attraction.

After paying their money, they were put into a group that was already waiting, and after a few minutes was called to attention by a member of staff. The young man, dressed in incredibly old-fashioned attire welcomed them to the attraction and gave some brief information about what they should expect from the tour, as well as some health and safety spiel.

Then they were ushered deeper into the building and down some stairs. Another peculiarly-dressed actor met them and gave his talk. The group soon learned that Mary King’s Close had been a town of sorts, a collection of streets and houses, named after the most prominent local—Mary King. It had functioned well, this part of Edinburgh—in its day. But it had also befallen hard times and tragedy, including the Black Death. 

It was rumoured that people affected had been bricked into their houses to prevent the disease spreading further. It had never been confirmed nor denied, but the very idea sent a shiver down Nikki’s spine.

As they advanced into the underground town—now covered over by modern Edinburgh—they learned more about the inhabitants, their lives and, in some cases, their deaths. By the time they were shown the shrine of a young girl, covered with offerings both old and new, Nikki was clinging onto Sonya’s arm so hard that the other girl gave her a nudge.

“Oi, you’re hurting me! What’s the matter with you?”

“Sorry,” Nikki replied. “I’m getting a little creeped out, that’s all.”

“A little? The way you’re squeezing my arm, I’m beginning to think you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

 “I said I’m sorry. God. Don’t you think it’s spooky down here?”

A meaningful glance from the tour guide shut them up. Nikki dropped her hand to Sonya’s and held it. The group continued through the subterranean labyrinth, listening to more tales of the past, the things that had happened within the very place they stood, over four hundred years ago.

Some periods of total darkness with recounts of history later, and Nikki was a nervous wreck. She’d always had an overactive imagination, and although she’d never seen a ghost—despite Sonya’s words—she believed in them and was really succumbing to the eeriness of the ancient place. She had gotten to the stage where she fully expected to see the spectre of little Annie—having left the site of her shrine—peering around a corner, beckoning to her. Or the chilly finger of a plague victim trailing down the back of her neck. She grew so paralyzed with fear that she fell silent and didn’t take in a word of the rest of the excursion—simply holding onto Sonya’s hand as they walked through the rooms and tunnels.

When they eventually emerged into the outside world once more, Nikki heaved a sigh of relief. “Sonya, darling, take me for a drink, now. A stiff one. A double vodka and coke sounds perfect right now. Maybe even a triple.”

“Were you really that scared?” The other woman looked disbelieving.

“What do you mean, were? I still bloody am. I’m sure I’d have found it interesting if I wasn’t so busy being terrified. I’m surprised I didn’t wet myself.”

“Aww, babe.” Sonya pulled the other girl into her arms. “I didn’t realise you hated it that much. We could have left if I’d known.”

“No,” Nikki shook her head. “It’s okay, I didn’t want to ruin it for you. I just got to the stage where I blocked it all out. But I’d still really like a drink, if you don’t mind.”

Sonya gently pushed Nikki against the wall of the alleyway and hugged her once more. “Okay, we’ll go for a drink soon. Let me hold you for a few minutes, first.”

The other girl said nothing, just relaxed into her lover’s embrace and slowly, very slowly, felt the fear ebbing away. With not a small amount of horror, she realised that she was turned on. Her knickers were damp and sticking to her, and the heat emanating from between her legs was unmistakable. What the actual fuck? She kept quiet, instead nuzzling into Sonya’s neck and pressing a kiss to the delicate skin there.

“Ooh,” Sonya said, shuddering, “that was lovely. What was that for?”

“For being nice.” Nikki’s voice was muffled, and she kissed her girlfriend again.

“Hey,” Sonya said, grabbing Nikki’s hands and squeezing them, “you’d better stop that, otherwise I’m going to get turned on. And that’s the last thing you want right now. I’m trying to be understanding here, sweetheart.”

Nikki came to the conclusion that she didn’t mind if Sonya got turned on, not at all. In fact, some sexy fun might just take her mind off the creepy underground place they’d just visited. It was damn weird that being scared had turned her on, but the more she thought about it, the more she figured it kinda made sense. Nothing, in her opinion, was scarier than death, and the French word for orgasm translated to ‘the little death’—so it was widely accepted that sex and death were connected. Sex was about life, death was about, well, death. So, in an attempt to stop thinking about things that confused the hell out of her, she was going to embrace life, wholeheartedly. And if that meant experiencing the little death, then so be it.

“I don’t mind,” she whispered into Sonya’s ear.

“What do you mean, sweetie?” Sonya replied, grabbing her shoulders and moving her back so she could look at her face. “You don’t mind what?”

“I don’t mind you getting turned on.”

About Lucy

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over eighty 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 Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Sunday Snog #105: Tomorrow's Gifts (M/M)

We're only a few days away from Christmas, so offering a kiss from a holiday-themed tale seems appropriate. Today I've got a quick kiss from my M/M BDSM paranormal holiday tale, Tomorrow's Gifts. Warning - the kiss is sweet, but the book contains some pretty intense D/s scenes.

And because it's almost Christmas, I'm giving away a copy of the book. Just leave a comment with your email address. I'll draw a winner on Wednesday.

When you're done with my snog, head over to Victoria's place for the usual sexy Sunday fare, from all your favorite authors!

Happy holidays!

The ghost of Christmas Future…

Michael loves his burly, powerful partner Neil, but he's too embarrassed to share his secret fantasies of submission and surrender. Frustrated and confused, he wonders whether he and Neil really belong together.

Then, on Christmas Eve, Michael receives a visit from a sexy Dom, Thorne Wilder, who claims to be his lover from the future. Thorne shows Michael scenes from a wild life of sexual excess that he claims they'll share if he breaks up with Neil.

Should Michael trust the ghost of Christmas future, or does his true future lie with Neil?

I didn’t have the patience to wrap my gift. I grabbed a sheet from the notepad by the telephone. What should I say? How could I best reveal my secret? I could only hope that the artefact itself would speak to him.

“To Neil,” I finally wrote. “In devotion and desire, from your boy Michael.”

I attached the note to the crop with a stray piece of tinsel. Then I positioned the slender shaft so that it was behind the pile of gaily wrapped packages, leaning against the tree trunk.

My heart was pounding furiously when I crawled back into bed. My cock was half erect. It was done. Whatever happened now, I couldn’t take it back. For better or worse, Neil would learn the truth.

Neil stirred as I settled beside his warm body. “Michael, baby?” His arms gathered me to his chest. I rubbed my cheek against his wonderful fur as he nuzzled my hair. He raised my face to his and licked at my lips, his eyes still closed. He smelled of sweat and sleep.

I opened my mouth to his probing tongue and let him sweep me away into one of his voluptuous kisses. Joy bubbled up in my chest. This was right. This was where I belonged. Thank God that I’d escaped from Thorne’s insidious web of half-truths.

Neil reached down between our bodies to tickle my swelling cock. “Mmm,” he murmured sleepily, into my open mouth. “Nice.” I could feel him hardening, too, his bulk pressing deliciously against my belly. Our bodies pressed together, our tongues twined, we moved together, each of us sliding our slick-tipped cocks back and forth across the other’s skin.

There was no urgency, only a long, lazy climb towards release. Everything about him felt incredible, his sharp teeth nibbling on my lip, his fingertips tracing leisurely circles around my nipples, the wiry hair at his groin brushing against my thighs, and of course his rigid cock, so ripe and fat, jousting with mine, teasing, tempting. I closed my eyes, letting the sensations flood through me.

With slow, steady friction, with the murmurs and moans of inarticulate pleasure, we urged each other on. We came together, smoothly, almost without effort. Our cum rose as powerful and irresistible as the tide, spilling across our joined flesh. 

As the waves of pleasure finally ebbed, I lay in my lover’s arms, sticky and blissfully relaxed. No dirty movies played in my head. No unfulfilled fantasies ate away at my satisfaction. I drifted off into sleep, my head on Neil’s chest, knowing that I was where I belonged.

Hot Vampires! Crimson Bond Give-away!

By Tamsin Flowers (Guest Blogger)

2013 has been quite a year for me - I would have to say that it's been my first full year as a published writer of erotica. Prior to this, I'd had a couple of stories released in anthologies but during the past 12 months, things have really started to take off. My work has featured in a number of Cleis Press anthos, I've had two novellas published and I've self-published my own short story collection. And, wow, what a ride! It's been something of a steep learning curve, not least in terms of marketing my work. This is so essential for writers today and can take up a lot of time - but the connection I'm starting to make with people who've enjoyed my writing makes it all worthwhile. And to say thank you everyone who follows my blog tours and reads my books, I'll be giving away a copy of my latest release, The Crimson Bond. If you're interested in winning, just leave a comment below, with your email address, and I'll make a random pick on Monday.

In the meantime, enjoy this excerpt from the story - an eternal triangle between three passionate and wayward vampires.

Happy Christmas,

Tamsin

Blurb

Willow Jackson develops an unhealthy obsession Etienne Corbeau; little does she realise he's a suave, sophisticated vampire. After he appears in her dreams, Willow is astounded to find Etienne in her room for real and even more shocked when, in the throes of a passion she can’t resist, he sinks his teeth into her neck and drinks her blood.

But Etienne is greedy and to save Willow's life, his wife Elouise forces her to drink vampire blood. From this moment Willow is herself a vampire, forming an unbreakable bond with Elouise which forces her to choose between the beautiful new vampire and her husband of two centuries.

As Willow learns to tame her bloodlust and vampire sex carries her to new heights of physical pleasure, Elouise is snatched away from her.  The battle lines are drawn: now she and Etienne will fight for possession of the woman they both love...

Excerpt

“Don’t be angry with me, Willow,” he said. “Your effect on me is so strong I can’t control myself when you’re around.”

That much was true and it was a feeling Willow had come to understand.

“Even now? Now I’m a vampire like you?”

Etienne brushed a hand down her jaw with unexpected tenderness.

“More now, Willow.”

His body was close to hers and as he looked down at her face his warm breath tickled her cheeks. She breathed in deeply to catch the scent of him and it didn’t disappoint. Low in her gut, muscles tightened and a shiver ran through her.

“Your bond with Elouise doesn’t stop you…” Her voice was ragged and she didn’t know how to finish what she intended to say.

“A vampire’s bond is mental, rather than physical.” His voice was low, practically a whisper.

She felt his hand on her breast, warm through the thin cotton of her T-shirt. Her knees turned to water and as she slumped against him, he lowered her gently to the ground. She was weak with lust, so overpowering she could hardly breath. But it was different from the bloodlust she felt when she was close to the girls on the ranch. This feeling, burning in her loins and spreading through her body, was a pure, sexual need—the full expression of the mere glimmers she’d experienced when she was still human and she’d lusted after him from afar.

“Etienne…”

They were both kneeling, facing each other. He pulled at the bottom of her T-shirt and she obligingly lifted her arms as he pulled it up over her head. His every touch felt like a burn on her skin but it was a sensation she couldn’t get enough of. As soon as her arms were free of the shirt, she tore at his, not caring as the buttons flew off and landed in the long grass.

She pressed her body against his, her softness against the firm, rough surface of his chest. She gasped and once again their mouths locked together. He tasted sweet and she felt a compulsion to make herself one with him, her tongue thrusting deep as her body pressed harder still against the length of his. His hands raked through her hair and drew her head back, angling her mouth all the better against his. Then she felt a hand dropping down her back and sliding under the waistband of her jeans. The sensation of his firm hand sliding down her cheek, one finger straying along the crack between her buttocks, elicited a low groan, deep in her throat, and she raked her nails down his back.

With a cry that might have been pain or pleasure or both, Etienne pushed her roughly back onto the grass. His hands scrabbled desperately at the fastening of her jeans and, seconds, later he ripped them down her thighs, scraping them over her knees and off. He buried his face between her legs, taking deep, rasping breaths of her scent, and then she felt his fingers prying their way into her willing sex. Her lips slipped open with a rush of hot juice and Etienne grunted as first his fingers explored her deeply and then his tongue found its way inside her.

Willow writhed beneath his touch but fought the sensations threatening to sweep her away. She longed to feel all of him inside her, so she reached down to his shoulders to pull him up.

He shook off her grasp and lifted his head to look at her.

“You can have both,” he whispered, his fingers still drumming a magical rhythm deep inside her.

“I want everything,” she said, returning his gaze.

“It’s all yours.”

Buy links

You'll find The Crimson Bond at Secret Cravings, Amazon US, Amazon UK, All Romance and Smashwords.

About Tamsin

Tamsin Flowers loves to write light-hearted erotica, often with a twist in the tail/tale and a sense of fun. In the words of one reviewer, 'Ms Flowers has a way of describing sexual tension that forces itself upon your own body.' Her stories have appeared in a wide variety of anthologies , for publishers including Cleis Press, Xcite Books and Go Deeper Press. She has now graduated to novellas with the intention of penning her magnum opus in the very near future. In the meantime, like most erotica writers, she finds herself working on at least ten stories at once: while she figures out whose leg belongs in which story, you can find out more about her at Tamsin's Superotica or Tamsin Flowers.

My Hosting Company Killed My Website!

Don't you just hate it when somebody's attempt to solve your problems makes everything worse?

I was working on a script that would allow readers to sign up for my email list automatically. I put it on my website, but it was giving me errors when I invoked it. After trying unsuccessfully to figure out the nature of the failure, I entered a support request. (Actually I sat on hold on the chat line for 20 minutes, chatted with a support rep, and then was told he was creating a problem ticket because he didn't know the answer.)

Being in Asia means there's always a time lag in getting responses from the western hemisphere. When I logged in on Tuesday morning, I found a cheery reply. "We've fixed your problem. Your script runs fine now."

Delighted, I went to test it out for myself. That's when I discovered that none of the pages on my website would load. None.

You'd think they would have checked, right? Is that asking too much? Sigh.

Anyway, the issue has finally been resolved, but my satisfaction with my hosting company is at an all time low.

Probably they don't care.

If you want to sign up for my private email list - and get exclusive contests and other goodies - just go to:

http://www.lisabetsarai.com/holidaygifts.html

You can download your free PDF copies of A Kiss at Midnight and Naughty Bits from that page, too!

Happy holidays!

Dangerous Waters

[Today I've got another book to showcase, paranormal thriller Dangerous Waters by C.M. Michaels. The author is giving away a $50 bookstore gift voucher to one lucky reader. Use the Rafflecopter widget at the end of the post to enter the drawing! ~ Lisabet]

Blurb

For Emily Waters, a nature-loving, small-town girl with an overprotective father, heading off to Boston University to study conservation biology is a dream come true—until a chance encounter catapults her into a mythical world she’d do anything to escape.

The latest victim in a rash of abductions near campus, Emily is brutally attacked before being rescued by a powerful new friend. She survives the ordeal, only to find herself held captive and presented with an impossible choice. While preparing for the unimaginable life she must now embrace clues soon emerge that Emily may not be entirely human, and her physical transformation awakens goddess-like powers that her new family cannot begin to explain. Dealing with her human first love, the not-so-platonic relationship with her coven “sister,” and her new vampire sort-of-boyfriend further complicates matters, not to mention being secretly hunted by the psychopaths who attacked her. And as the only known offspring of a once all-powerful race, the climactic battle is only the beginning of her journey.

Excerpt

I quit watching him and let myself enjoy the feeling that dancing always gave me. A couple of songs had passed before we were close together again. I couldn’t believe he was the same guy. Daniel blended in perfectly with everyone else on the floor and looked like he’d been club dancing for years. When the song ended we made our way over to an empty table.

“I can’t believe how much fun that was!” he shouted.

“I’ve never seen someone pick it up so fast. You’re a natural!”

“Yeah, right—more like you’re a hell of a teacher.”

“Thanks, Daniel.” The affectionate, almost star struck look in his eyes reminded me of what Ruby had said. If I didn’t want to hurt him, I couldn’t afford to wait any longer. But like the true blue coward I was, rather than taking the plunge, I chose to study a particularly interesting piece of lint on the floor.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to ask you something that is going to sound really bizarre.”

“Okay…” Fear of where this might be headed had him gathering his legs underneath him like a coiled up house cat preparing to leap out of danger.

After a long pause I met his gaze. “You can sleep with me tonight if you want to.”

“Jesus, Brooke, we—”

“Please let me finish,” I interrupted. “I’m a virgin, which I can’t exactly fake, so I’ve obviously never done anything like this before. If you say yes, I’ll expect you to make love to me, and all I can offer you is tonight—it’s your choice.”

“Why only tonight?” The disappointment and sadness in his words was palpable.

“I wish I could explain, but I’m afraid it’s extremely complicated. Part of saying yes is agreeing not to ask questions I can’t answer.”

We sat in silence for a few uncomfortable seconds before he reached out and took my hand, gripping it like he could make my question disappear if he only squeezed hard enough. “I’m a virgin too. I get my ass ridden constantly for it but I’m not ashamed—I sure as hell didn’t come here expecting to go home with someone tonight. I get the feeling that you did, and I just happened to be the guy you picked."

Daniel pressed his forehead against the palm of his free hand and closed his eyes. "Damn it! I really like you, Brooke, but I gotta know why you’re so desperate to lose your virginity tonight, and why you can’t have a relationship with the person you give it to. If you can’t or won’t answer those questions, then I’ll have to say no.”

The stinging pain of rejection filled my chest as I pulled my hand away. How could it hurt this bad to be turned down by someone I just met? Did I really like him that much already? Trying to salvage what little pride I had left, I stood up and turned to leave, tears streaming down my cheeks.

Get your copy of Dangerous Waters today: 

Freya’sBower (Paperback) 

Freya’sBower (eBook)

Amazon(Paperback)          

Amazon(Kindle) 

Barnes & Noble (Paperback) 

Barnes &Noble (Nook)  

AllRomance eBooks

About the Author

C.M Michaels grew up in a small town in northern Michigan as the youngest child of a close-knit family of seven. He met his wife, Teresa, while attending Saginaw Valley State University. Together they’ve provided a loving home for several four-legged “kids”, including Sophie, their eternally young at heart, hopelessly spoiled Spaniel.

He has always enjoyed writing, and still has fond memories of reading his first book, a children’s novella, to local grade schools when he was 14. Dangerous Waters, the first book in the Sisters in Blood series, is being published by Freya’s Bower on September 5th, 2013. C.M. is currently working on the second book in the Sisters in Blood series along with a Fantasy romance.

When he’s not writing, C.M. can be found curled up with a good book, watching movies or hitting the hiking trails with his wife. An avid reader since discovering Jim Kjelgaard novels in early childhood, his favorite authors include Kelley Armstrong, Peter V. Brett, Richelle Mead, Rachel Caine, Cassandra Claire, J.R. Ward, Laini Taylor and Tessa Dawn.

C.M. currently resides in Louisville, Kentucky.

Social Media links:

Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/UFAuthorCMMichaels

Twitter - https://twitter.com/UFAuthor

Blog - http://cmmichaels.blogspot.com/

Website - http://cmmichaels.com/

YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/user/authorcmmichaels

Book trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7Q7m0MrwlQ

Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/dangerous-waters-14

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