Monday, June 30, 2014

New Covers, New Titles, Same Sizzling Paranormal Trilogy

[If you like paranormal erotic romance, you've got to read K.D. Grace! ~ Lisabet]

K D Grace’s paranormal trilogy has had a makeover! The covers have been redone, along with a slight upgrade in the titles to better reflect their paranormal romance genre. The novels themselves are still both sizzling and chilling. And now they’re all dressed up for the summer heat.

The Lakeland Witches Trilogy

Book One: Body Temperature & Rising

American transplant to the Lake District, MARIE WARREN, didn’t know she could unleash demons and enflesh ghosts until a voyeuristic encounter on the fells ends in sex with the charming ghost, ANDERSON, and night visits from a demon. To help her cope with her embarrassing and dangerous new abilities, Anderson brings her to the ELEMENTALS, a coven of witches who practice rare sex magic that temporarily allows needy ghosts access to the pleasures of the flesh.

Book Two: Riding the Ether

Cassandra Larkin keeps her ravenous and dangerous sexual appetite secret until she seduces Anderson in the mysterious void of the Ether. Anderson is the sexy, insatiable ghost who can give her exactly what she needs.

But sex is dangerous in a place like the Ether…

When the treacherous demon, Deacon, discovers the truth about the origin of Cassandra’s powerful lust, he plots to use her sex magic for revenge on Tara Stone and the Elemental Coven, who practice their own brand of sex magic.

Cassandra must embrace the lust and sexuality she fears and learn to use its power. Will she stand with Anderson, Tara, and the Elemental Coven against Deacon’s wrath or suffer the loss of friendship, magic and love?

Book Three: Elemental Fire

Obsessed with revenge, KENNET LUCIAN makes a deal with a demon, a deal he comes to regret when he meets TARA STONE, head of the Elemental Coven, and a powerful witch with a desire for revenge at least as great as his. Even though the attraction between the two is magnetic and the lust combustive, Kennet must betray her to accomplish his goal, which is ultimately her goal as well; to put a final end to the demon, Deacon’s, reign of terror. But can Tara trust the man who has wormed his way into her heart and the heart of the Elemental Coven? Can she trust LUCIA, the demon with whom Kennet is allied, a demon with her own agenda. The path to Deacon’s destruction is far from clear, and the price that must be paid to be free of him forever may be too high, even for Tara Stone.

DEACON, the demon Marie has unleashed, holds an ancient grudge against TARA STONE, coven high priestess, and will stop at nothing to destroy all she holds dear. Marie and her landlord, the reluctant young farmer, TIM MERIWETHER, are at the top of his list. Marie and Tim must learn to wield coven magic and the numinous power of their lust to stop Deacon’s bloody rampage before the coven is torn apart and more innocent people die.

Excerpt: Body Temperature and Rising
The image of a dark figure approaching her through the fog tightened her belly and her nipples, and yet at the same time sent shards of ice down her back. It was a dream, she told herself. Surely it had to be, as she gathered herself to run.

It was a gentle touch of her arm that woke her with a start, and she looked up into the dark eyes of Anderson. ‘Come with me, out of the rain.’ He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet. She was amazed to find that he was still in the black suit, no anorak, no water proofs, no proper walking boots.

‘I lost my compass,’ she said.

‘I’m very sorry to hear that,’ he replied.

Almost before she knew it they were descending. ‘Don’t worry,’ he spoke close to Marie’s ear. ‘I know the fells like I’ve lived here forever.’ Once we get to Grange, Tara will be waiting for us.’

He made no attempt to explain who Tara was, nor did he introduce himself. That was her first clue that he might have been aware of her voyeuristic escapade.

‘We’ll be down before you know it,’ he added, turning his face into the storm.

But they weren’t. The weather worsened to a downpour. Bent double in the wind, Marie was soaked to the skin and shivering by the time Anderson pulled her into a cave that she hadn’t even seen until they were safe inside.

‘We’ll wait it out here,’ he said. He offered her a smile and gestured around the cave. ‘There are lots of caves and quarries around the Lake district. Some are fenced off for the protection of curious tourists, and others, like this one, most people don’t know about.’

‘And your girl friend, won’t she be worried?’

The tolerant smile he offered made her aware of her mistake. ‘Tara knows what I would do in such weather.’ Then he added, ‘Though she’s very dear to me, Tara’s not my girlfriend.’

Before she could say anything he chuckled softly. ‘I know that you saw us together, and there’s no need to apologize. Neither of us was upset that you enjoyed our love making. In fact we rather hoped it would please you. Besides one must certainly expect such encounters when one chooses the middle of a well-traveled path for a rendezvous. Now remove your shirt for me, please.’

When she balked, he added. ‘You’re cold and wet. I only wish to make you more comfortable and prevent you catching your death.’ He had already shed his jacket and handed it to her. She was astonished to find it completely dry. ‘You may wear this.’

Author Bio:

K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading, watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.

K D has erotica published with SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Erotic Review, Ravenous Romance, Sweetmeats Press and others.
K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available. She was nominated for ETO’s Best Erotic Author 2013.
K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis, The Exhibition are all available.

Find K D Here:

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Sunday Snog #130: The Understudy

My snog today is from my BDSM novella The Understudy. The excerpt is a bit longer than most of my snog snippets - but given the heat, I didn't think you'd mind!

When you've recovered from my snog, be sure to visit Victoria's page and check out the other sizzling kisses on offer today!

I knocked on his door precisely at midnight. This time Geoffrey answered in person. 

He wore a robe of some shimmery material that looked like silk, twilight blue woven with patterns of gold. His feet were bare. His eyes were hungry.

“Come in, little one,” he purred, stepping aside so that I could pass. “You’re very punctual. I gather you’ve learnt your lesson.”

“Yes, sir.” I didn’t know what else to say. I stood in the middle of the room, eyes cast down and hands clasped in front of me like a schoolgirl about to recite. I couldn’t bear to look at him; I was sure I’d lose control and do something without his permission.

“So you don’t want another spanking?” he laughed.

A wave of heat sizzled through me like summer lightning. I wanted his hands on my flesh—I didn’t care about the pain.

“It’s your choice,” I whispered. “Spank me if you want to.”

“Not tonight,” he replied. “For tonight, I have other ideas. Look at me, Sarah.”

I raised my head. He snared me with his eyes and wouldn’t release me. As usual under his scrutiny, my nipples tightened and my pussy wept. He seated himself on the sofa, still holding my gaze, and crossed one leg over the other.

“Now strip.”

Shame overwhelmed me. I didn’t understand it. I’d been naked in his presence the night before last. He had explored my body, inside and out. Why was I blushing and sweating now?

I wanted to obey him, to please him. Truly I did. Yet I couldn’t move.

“Sarah?” he queried, impatience evident in his voice. “Is there a problem?”

Suddenly I understood my reluctance. It was all about her. I knew that I couldn’t compete. I glanced around, searching for her photo, not seeing it anywhere. Perhaps it was in the bedroom, where he could fall asleep gazing upon her beauty…

“Sarah!” His rebuke brought my eyes back to his. “If you’re not going to follow instructions, you might as well go back to your room.”

“Oh no! Please don’t send me away. I’m sorry.”

I rushed to unbutton my blouse, not caring whether I was graceful or seductive. His scowl relaxed as I bared my breasts, my eager nipples all too obviously erect. His lips shaped themselves into a half-smile as I yanked off my skirt and tossed it away. That was all it took. I hadn’t worn a bra or panties for two days.

“Good girl. Why did you hesitate?”

“I—um—I didn’t know whether you’d like me. Whether I’d please you. My breasts are so small…”

“Your breasts are just fine. Anyway, it’s not your place to worry about such things. When I tell you to do something, just do it. Don’t question, obey.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.” A tiny part of me wanted to protest, to complain, to rage against him for using me to dull his desire for his true love. Then he flicked his robe open, revealing his rampant erection. Any thought of resistance vanished. I wanted to be used.

“Kneel,” he commanded. “Suck me.”

I bruised my knees in my hurry to comply.

His cock rose proudly from its thicket of black curls. It bobbed in my face, the fat olive shaft ropy with veins, the livid bulb reminding me of a ripe berry. My mouth watered. His rich, musky smell swirled around me, making me hungry. Taking a deep breath, I bent to the task he had assigned me.

I swirled my tongue around the tip, then trailed it along his length. His skin was silk stretched over granite, salty and smooth, unutterably delicious. Moisture seeped from the slit. I gathered it with my tongue, savouring the slight bitterness.

“Not so delicate, girl,” he growled.

He seized my hair and pulled my face to his crotch. I stretched my lips wide, trying to accommodate his bulk. With a grunt, he rammed his swollen penis down my throat. I choked, suddenly unable to breathe.

Sensing my distress, he backed off. I gulped air into my lungs. He waited until I opened my mouth as wide as I could before he plunged back in. This time I was ready. I relaxed my muscles and allowed him to thrust against my palate. He pulled back then drove his rod back in, deeper than before.

I tried to suck, to stimulate him with my teeth and tongue, but he was in control. All I could do was open myself and let him take me. He fucked my mouth with the same fury that he’d used on my pussy. It was glorious. I was the vessel of his pleasure. I wanted nothing more.

He held my head and jerked his cock in and out of my mouth. Saliva dribbled out the corners of my lips. Each stroke buried my nose in the fragrant nest at his root. I sensed the tension building in him, power rippling up his shaft. Please, master, I silently begged. Let me taste you.

He granted my prayer. His cock convulsed against my tongue and flooded my mouth with his warm cum. It flowed and flowed—I swallowed what I could, finding it sweet and slightly chalky—but some spilt down my chin and onto my breasts.

When the flood ebbed, he withdrew and sat back on the couch. I remained where I was, kneeling before him with my head bowed. I could feel his eyes raking over me. I was acutely conscious of my tangled hair, my saliva-streaked cheeks, the sticky mess drying on my chest. I knew he could see the wetness coating my parted thighs and smell the ocean aroma rising from my pussy.

“What do you have to say, girl?”

I looked up. His x-ray eyes bored into me, through the last layers of pride and artifice. I spoke from my heart.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you, Sarah.”

Geoffrey raised me from the floor and pulled me into his lap, then fastened his lips on my bruised mouth. His kiss was like a draught of clear water, profound and refreshing. I melted into him, a deep peace stealing over me. He stroked my hair and traced little circles around my nipples, then licked the droplets of cum from my chin.

“You did well. I know that you’re not used to all this, but you’re learning fast.”

Saturday, June 28, 2014

What if homophobia wasn't a problem?

By TK Paige (Guest Blogger)

Hello everyone. Let me start by saying thanks to Lisabet for having me here today.

I am a brand new author with Totally Bound Publishing or anywhere else for that matter. I always wanted to write but it wasn’t until last year that it started to click for me. For some reason, it was my discovery of M/M romances that kicked it off. I wrote a few short stories at first but was having trouble coming up with a longer project.

In M/M romance, homophobia and prejudice are widely used for obvious reasons. But things are changing, hopefully. Until I moved recently, I lived in a small town for eight years. Very small. In the Bible Belt. While my personal views didn’t line up with most of the area, the people were great. A good deal of them anyway. So when I was kicking around ideas for a longer project I started wondering. There were all these books where the small town kid is reviled and driven out when he is discovered to be gay. Well, what if a town did the opposite. What if they accepted him just as he was?

And I had a character. James Hara, a small town kid who was not only accepted but becomes a big part of the community as an adult. A well-adjusted man with a strong sense of humor. Somebody that has had the good fortune of being exactly who he is, out in the open all his life. What if he fell for someone who has never had that? Who had good reasons for staying quiet about who he was. There was my story, Here For You, and Totally Bound Publishing shocked the hell out of me when they offered me a contract for it.

Welcome to Deacon, Oklahoma. Straight population—seven hundred and ninety-six. Gay population—James Hara. Except it really isn’t that bad, because when he came out to his hometown, something wonderful happened. They still loved him…most did anyway. The only problem is the lack of a dating pool.

Then he meets the new firefighting volunteer and he has a bigger problem. Mason is gorgeous, friendly and straight. Soon James is doing his best not to fall for his new friend. Hard to do when Mason is everything he dreams of with his humor and flashes of vulnerability.

But after a set of stressful events, he finds that maybe it is not impossible after all. If he can be patient with a man wounded by his past.

He was about six feet tall, which made him an inch or two taller than me. He was also a bit broader than me, and it was definitely a bigger bone frame that gave him the size. His white T-shirt was a little tight and wet, clinging to him in such a way it proved beyond a doubt the guy was fit. He wasn’t in any way close to being a freak of nature or body builder type of muscle bound. But he was definitely built. I was so glad that today was truck washing day.

His face was turned partially away from me so I couldn’t see his eye color or the exact shape of his face without tipping everyone off to what I was doing. So I just took in the dark brown hair with a little bit of a red tint to it. Cut a little long and shaggy, it looked casual and I liked it. It was a nice length. Just long enough to hold on to while you… Better stop that train of thought before certain parts of me proved that they still functioned in spite of the ‘dating drought’. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up giving Tosh more ammo for later.

Too late. My phone gave the message tone assigned to only her texts. I mentally kicked myself for picking that particular one when I was ticked at her the other night.

Kent turned and asked, “Is that a braying donkey?”

I sighed. “Yes.”

“Let me guess. That’s Tosh texting you.” He didn’t say it as a question, just assumed it was his wife.

I nodded.

“You didn’t use the crazy bitch one?”

I sighed and explained for the new guy’s benefit. “I was annoyed, not pissed off this time.”

It looked like it took some effort, but Kent managed to choke down his laughter and turned back to the newbie. Poor guy was looking a little confused at the thought of a volunteer having those ringtones set for the fire chief’s wife.

Kent took pity on him and explained. “This is James Hara. He is my wife’s best friend. Has been since they went to college together. James, this is Mason Sullivan. He just moved to the area and wants to help out.”

While I traded hellos with him, I finally had the chance to look him fully in the face. I just about swallowed my tongue.

You can buy Here For You, my debut erotic romance, at

About T.K.
T.K. Paige picked up her first book to read around the age of four and hasn’t stopped since. She discovered the M/M genre in August of 2012 and an addict was hooked.

If you see her and she is not reading, then she is thinking about the books that live in her head. It doesn’t matter what else she is doing, it is guaranteed half her brain has a plot running through it.

A stay at home mom for more years than she would like to think about, she is lucky enough to be married to a wonderful guy who encouraged her to write throughout their years together. Then when she finally did it and she told him what she was writing, he turned only slightly green and asked “Do I have to read it?” Apparently, he had dreams of her being the next Urban Fantasy sensation with her taste in movies… We won’t tell him what she watches when she is alone all day folding laundry.

Friday, June 27, 2014

The Setting for Sweet Spot

By Lucy Felthouse (Guest Blogger)

Welcome to my blog tour for my new F/F erotic romance, Sweet Spot! I've got a bookstore gift voucher up for grabs. To enter, use the Rafflecopter link at the end of this post.

Once I decided what I wanted to do for the Hot Pink series from Ellora’s Cave, the setting was the least of my worries. Because I knew I was going to write a book in the Raw Talent sports romance series, and that it would overlap a little with the first book, Grand Slam, then much of the setting was already there. The stadium where the US Open is played in New York City, the fictional Los Carlos Tennis Academy in California... my Grand Slam co-author, Lily Harlem and I had already built that world and so I just had to expand on it.

Not all of the action takes place at the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center or Los Carlos, though. But for the most part, the other settings are generic, fictional, and I just let them flow naturally as I wrote. Swanky hotels, apartments... just a backdrop for the angst, action and sexiness going on between the four walls. I already have an idea what I’m going to write about for the next Raw Talent book, though, and setting is definitely going to be a more major player. BDSM club, anyone?

Happy Reading,

Lucy x


Sweet Spot by Lucy Felthouse, a Raw Talent book.

Virginia Miller is an up-and-coming tennis star. She’s gone from a ratty tennis court in a park in south London, England, to the world’s top training facility—Los Carlos Tennis Academy in California. In awe of the talent around her, Virginia is all the more determined to make the most of the opportunity and show that she’s worthy of her place there. Her mentor, Nadia Gorlando, has every faith in her.

But Virginia finds herself distracted—Nadia, as well as being a top-notch tennis player, is seriously sexy, and Virginia’s mind keeps wandering where it shouldn’t. Will her crush get in the way of her career, or can she find a way to push the other woman out of her mind before it’s too late?


Nadia Gorlando and I had just gotten off the exercise bikes in the gym when one of the academy’s coaches, Peter Ross, headed over to us, all smiles.

“Hey, Nadia,” he said, his all-American grin widening and his blond hair flopping down over his forehead, “I need a huge favor.”

I flicked my gaze to Nadia. She raised one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows and waited for him to continue. 

He did.

“I totally lost track of time just now and I have an appointment with Travis Connolly. Would you mind wiping down my machine for me? Or maybe stick a note on it saying it’s out of order? I don’t want to leave it all sweaty for someone else. You’ll be doing me a real solid. I’ll owe you.”

My jaw almost hit the floor.

Now Nadia rolled her eyes, looked over at the offending machine, then back at Peter. “Sure, I understand,” she said, as cool as ice. “The world’s number one can’t wait. Go right ahead—I’ll fix it for you.”

He babbled a load of thanks, then jogged out of the gym.

I gaped at her. “You’re not going to do it, are you?”

Nadia chuckled. “Of course not. He may be coaching Travis Connolly and Rufus Lampani for the US Open, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to clean up his mess.” She pointed with her chin over to the machine Peter had just vacated. “Come on, V, I’ll show you how I’m going to deal with this.”

I followed her, grinning. Her tone told me that it was going to be something fun. Well, for us, anyway. Probably not for Peter.

Sure enough, when she returned from the room off the side of the gym, she had a pad of paper and a pen in her hands. Deliberately shielding the pad from my view, she wrote something down, then pulled off the top sheet. Folding it, she then propped it on the sweat-slicked seat so the writing was on view to anyone who happened past.

When I’d read and absorbed the words, I turned to Nadia, impressed. Her smile lit up her face, showing dimples in each cheek, and her brown eyes gleamed with amusement.

It was in that moment that I decided I had the serious hots for Nadia Gorlando.

The sign read,


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 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 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:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Done With Blushing

By Rosalie Stanton

I have only recently become open about what I write with people who aren’t in my immediate circle. Previously, the getting-to-know-you conversations with friends, coworkers, and pretty much anyone I met consisted of a painful dance around the topic. I didn’t want to feel flushed or apologetic when I mentioned I write paranormal romance, never mind erotic romance. My genre of choice has never been a matter of shame for me—I love what I write, and I’m proud of it. But the opinion of others, particularly people who don’t know me, has long been something I’ve worried about. Be it in the way I look, the way I dress, my makeup, my hair, or my weight. I know I’m not alone in this. People—and women in particular—are guilty of overestimating the importance of a perfect stranger’s good opinion.

Granted, not caring what people think isn’t license to be an asshole. And there are some core truths in society that remain unimpeachable, no matter our small protests. One being that women are taken more seriously if their hair is flawless, their skin unblemished, their eyes painted and their lips red. Some women really enjoy this, and I don’t fault them in that one bit. However, as someone who more or less grew up a tomboy and later caved to the cultural norm of how respectable women looked, I’ve somewhat rebelled against the establishment. On the weekends, even if I’m going out, I have to really be in the mood to slap on makeup. During the week, I’m mostly sequestered to an office and out of the public eye, so my makeup is sparing and rarely touched up throughout the day. Those times when I do worry about how I look, I remind myself I shouldn’t have to. I dress well (four years working in a clothing department store gave me that), I’m friendly, my hair isn’t a mess, and I practice regular hygiene. In essence, I do everything a guy does, only I still spend more time in front of the mirror.

Admittedly, I’m at a point in life where I have nothing to lose by playing the “screw it” game. I’m happily married, and my husband is almost more of a feminist than I am. I also have achieved my professional goals—I work remotely for a publisher, in-office for an advertising agency and with people who have much more important things to worry about than how much foundation I applied that morning. On the rare occasion I get in front of clients, I do make an effort to not wear off my makeup quite so much, but those instances are few and far between.

Women are pressured by any number of variables to behave and appear certain ways. I once couldn’t fathom going to get the mail in anything less than my absolute best. My tomboy ways began to waver around the puberty point, and my obsession with my appearance instigated any number of unhealthy behaviors I have since decided were not only a waste of time, but damaging in the hands of someone else.

Appearance is one thing. Writing is something else entirely, though for many female authors, it does reside in the same school of thought where we find society’s expectations for women as a whole. Women are supposed to be passive, demure, visually pleasing, sexually stimulating but mostly virginal. Letting go of my visual hang-ups was a lot easier, in that regard, than letting go of the fear of judgment that came with every answer to the dreaded, “What do you write?” question. Romance novels, independent of erotica, have been many a punch line for many people for a long time. And when you’re the author of erotic romance, allowing someone the license to potentially judge you on a level so inherently personal is a very frightening thing.

But here’s the kicker: you can only be embarrassed if you feel you have something to be embarrassed about. Any reply you receive after you announce you write “erotic romance” is a comment on the person saying it, not you. It occurred to me a few weeks ago that since I have no shame in what I do, it was time to pony up and stop apologizing preemptively. Stop omitting the “erotic” part of “paranormal romance” or devaluing my own work by calling it smut. I don’t know about other erotic romance authors, but a lot more goes into each work than just the sex. There’s characterization, development, a grueling plot, life-or-death stakes, an emotional journey, heartbreak, healing, loss, acceptance, occasional existential questions, a blackest-of-all-black moments, and the much deserved HEA or HFN. And, yes, there are some naked sweaty scenes with characters engaging in the COMPLETELY HUMAN act of lovemaking. To call all of that smut is a disservice, and if you’re speaking specifically about my work, I consider it insulting. So imagine how pissed I was with myself for allowing my work to be branded “smut” for so long.

No more.

On Friday, my mother called my work “vampire smut” in front of someone I’d only known for five minutes.

“Actually,” I said, “I write paranormal erotic romance.”

She replied with, “Well, but it’s so much more fun to say vampire smut.”

I can be annoyed, sure…but more with myself than her. That’s what I built because I wasn’t woman enough to be loud and proud sooner than a few weeks ago. I denigrated my own work to in order to, what, save face? Avoid a blush? Why the hell should I be self-conscious? I’m damn proud of what I do.

I know this fight is only beginning. I imagine I’ll have many more moments where I’ll need to correct someone when they describe my work as “smut”…but I did the crime, so I’ll do that other thing. When something is important to you, you show up. Writing is incredibly important to me. Always has been. And I’m not apologizing anymore—not to strangers, not to my mother, and especially not to myself.

So what am I not blushing about anymore? Well, this for starters, and a whole lot more to come.

By the way, leave me a comment with your email, and I'll enter you in a drawing for a $10 Totally Bound gift voucher! 

TITLE: Lost Wages of Sin
LENGTH: Super-plus novel
GENRE: Erotic Paranormal Romance
THEME: Angels and demons, vampires


Working for Lucifer is the best job in the universe, until the day it’s not. Then you’re on your own, with Hell at your heels.

Ava, Sin of Greed, has had a rough week. The angel she planned to make a life with left her with nothing but a Dear Jane letter. Even worse, Lucifer believes she spilled Hell’s secrets to her ex, and her boss’s temper is notoriously apocalyptic.

For centuries, Dante has kept his feelings for Ava under lock-and-key. The one time he pursued something more, he nearly lost her for good. Lesson learned. However, when he hears of her planned elopement, all bets are off. Not having Ava was a reality he could have accepted. Losing her to an angel is something else entirely.

Now, Ava, once Hell’s golden child, is fleeing for her life. When her old friend Dante shows up, her first instinct is to send him packing. But Dante is more than a friend—he’s the only other man who tempted her, and his fierce loyalty challenges everything she thought she knew about him. As Ava prepares to battle the devil himself, she can’t keep from getting closer to Dante…though given what happened the last time, she doubts her heart can survive another break.

Buy Links



When he couldn’t stand the silence any longer, Dante cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “Ava?”

Her head jerked up, hair flying out of her face. She blinked rapidly as though trying to remember where she was. “Yeah. Did you decide what you want?”

Dante stared at her for a moment then lowered his gaze to the burger and fries in front of him. “We already did that part.”

She blinked again and shifted her attention to her own barely-touched meal. “Oh, right.”

“So are we gonna talk about it?”

“About what?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me. We’re here for a reason, aren’t we? Thought you wanted to have the big talk.”

Ava sighed, picked up a fry then munched. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“How about what you were doing with one of those oversized pigeons in the first place.”

She managed to look wounded, amused and irritated at the same time. A look specific to Ava—one that told him she was still in there somewhere. “Like that’s any of your business,” she replied coolly, though her tone wasn’t sharp and her eyes weren’t narrowed. Her protest seemed more out of habit than anything else.

“Come on, love. We don’t need to dance around this. You already know I know.”

“Yeah,” she agreed softly, slumping farther into her seat. “My life just keeps getting better.”

“So what were you doing with him?” Dante cocked his head. “That winged asshole?”

“Sebastian. His name’s Sebastian.”

The possessive beast in his chest roared with anger at the name, but Dante washed it back with a mouthful of beer. It wasn’t as though he had any claim on her, despite years of trying, despite conversations that went on until dawn, despite a list of inside jokes that had no end, despite surviving the bad times and celebrating the good. And despite that one not-so-distant night when things might have changed, Ava had never been his.

He’d prepared himself for this. He’d thought he had, at least. Perhaps he should have tried to go back to sleep after he’d rubbed one out this afternoon—put some distance between his feelings and his job here.

Still, his feelings for Ava had never taken a back seat to anything, even when they should have. And since Dante wasn’t one to start sprouting sonnets, he forced himself to shove those feelings deep into the recesses of never-going-to-happen and focus on being there for her when he could.

He hadn’t lacked female companionship, either. It was one of the nightlife’s best perks. The women he chose were always warm and receptive, and likewise left his bed a satisfied customer. He hadn’t bothered developing a lasting relationship—hadn’t taken the steps those of his kind took in order to ensure the path to eternity wasn’t a lonely one.

The only woman he wanted for keeps was unavailable, and currently sat across the table with eyes so haunted he had a good mind to hitch the next ride skyward and introduce a certain angel to his fist.

“Sebastian,” he echoed at last. “Like the cartoon crab?”

About Rosali

Rosalie Stanton is a multi-published erotic romance author, with emphasis in paranormal and urban fantasy. A lifelong enthusiast of larger than life characters, Rosalie enjoys building worlds filled with strong heroes and heroines of all backgrounds.

Rosalie lives in Missouri with her husband. At an early age, she discovered a talent for creating worlds, which evolved into a love of words and storytelling. Rosalie graduated with a degree in English. As the granddaughter of an evangelical minister, Rosalie applied herself equally in school in the creative writing and religious studies departments, which had an interesting impact on her writing. When her attention is not engaged by writing or editing, she enjoys spending time with close friends and family.

Rosalie is represented by Tish Beaty at the L. Perkins Agency.

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

A Visit from Erzabet

Today I'm delighted to welcome Erzabet Bishop to Beyond Romance. She's here to talk about her new F/F urban fantasy, Sigil Fire I thought I'd start with a few questions.

Lisabet: Greetings and welcome, Erzabet? This looks like a great book - I've been craving some F/F. How did you come up with Sigil Fire?

Erzabet: This story began as a writing prompt that didn’t make it into the anthology it was originally intended for. After much more work, I sent it in to the Ylva Halloween anthology and the amazing and wonderful Astrid believed it could be so much more. What was a nine thousand word story became a nearly thirty thousand word novella. 

L: Will there be a sequel?

E: Yes. Charley, Perry, Sonia and Fae will be back for book two, which has already begun.

L: So author interviews always ask this: what's your favorite dessert?

E: Chocolate. Any kind. Anywhere.

L: Do you have a pet?

E: Yes. My husband and I have a pack of furry canine children that constantly keep us on our toes.

L: Favorite place to relax?

E: That would have to be in bed with a good book, my puppy Tadpole by my side. 

L: Who are some of your favorite urban fantasy or erotic authors?

E: There are so many! I love Kim Harrison, Lisabet Sarai, Jaye Wells, Red Phoenix, Cari Silverwood, DL King, Alison Tyler, Rachel Kramer Bussel, Rhavensfyre, Patricia Briggs, Laura Antoniou…the list goes on and on. If I could be sealed in a room for a year I would never be bored reading these fabulous authors and more.

L: How could I not adore a woman who lists me among her favorite authors? So what are you working on now?

E: I have several works in progress. I write for the serial, Club Rook and am in the middle of two episodes to finish out the first season. There is also a CYOA for Silkwords, a twisted fairy tale for Decadent and a Halloween tale for my wonderful friends at Ylva. Not to mention the urban fantasy romance I’m up to my knees in for Sci Spanks coming up in a week or so. 

L:  Sci Spanks? I've got to hear more!

E: I’m glad you asked! It is a wonderful event for authors and readers to get together around their love of reading erotic literature. Some spanking may be involved, so warm up your paddles! Check out this link to the Facebook page and consider being an ambassador. More prize opportunities and it is as easy as cut and paste.

Thanks for having me on the blog today! I hope to see you around Facebook and hop over to my author site to sign up for the newsletter.

And now a bit about Sigil Fire....


Where there’s smoke there’s Hellfire.

Sonia is a succubus with one goal: stay off Hell’s radar. But when succubi start to die, including her sometimes lover, Jeannie, she’s drawn into battle between good and evil.

Fae is a blood witch turned vampire, running a tattoo parlor and trading her craft for blood. She notices that something isn’t right on the streets of her city. The denizens of Hell are restless. With the aid of her nest mate Perry and his partner Charley, she races against time before the next victim falls. The killer has a target in his sights, and Sonia might not live to see the dawn.


Blood pounded in her temples, and Sonia’s feet hit the pavement. Tears blurred her vision as the reality of what almost happened sunk in. He was the killer, and he knew where she lived. He was a fallen angel.
Turning the corner, she saw the tattoo parlor and picked up her pace. The shadows mocked her from every angle. He would be out there waiting. His oily presence oozed unholy joy at her panic, and she stumbled, almost losing her footing on the uneven sidewalk. Footsteps echoed on the street behind her, and in her panic, she couldn’t distinguish between friend and foe.

The glass doors loomed large, windows covered with posters of the latest trends in piercing and ink.
Pulling maniacally on the door, Sonia let out a howl of frustration to discover it locked. “Son of a bitch! Oh Goddess! Open up!” Tears ran down her face, and she tore at the door, hoping for some weakness that would allow her entry. Something. Anything.

She bit back a sob and staggered backward. It was over. He would find her in moments.
The street had become too quiet and the echo of sinister laughter crept along the edge of darkness. The bastard was playing with her.

Fear shot through Sonia’s body, numb and cold, causing her to yelp as the doors rattled behind her.

The sound of a barking dog came from the interior of the shop.

A voluptuous dark-haired woman leaned out, the bluish light illuminating her features with beams of icy radiance. “If you’re looking for a corner, succubus, you’ve picked the wrong one. Move it along.”
Sonia stepped closer to the door, turning her head into the light. “I’m here to see Fae.” She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. The T-shirt and jeans had been warm enough earlier, but the air had turned chillier.

“Red?” The woman’s eyes grew wide. She assessed Sonia’s every movement.

Sonia shook her head, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. “Do you know me?

The barking of a dog sounded closer, and the dark-haired woman drew back as the little body pushed past her.

Sonia leaned down. “What are you doing here?”

The little dog barked furiously, wagging its tail and whining. Its furry little face searched Sonia’s, and it jumped against Sonia’s leg, licking her hand.

“Hey there. Glad to see you made it home.” Sonia reached down at petted dog’s head.

Snorting, the dog rubbed its head against Sonia’s hand, letting out a delighted sound.

“Your dog knows me.” Sonia searched the dark-haired woman’s face. “I saved it. In the alley yesterday. There was a demon trying to take it.”

“Jellybean, what have you been doing?” Fae returned her gaze to Sonia and stared hard. “You saved her? How?”

A frustrated snort came from the dog, and she growled at the shadows.

“You’re lucky that you have a hellhound to watch over you. Someone must have loved you a lot.”

The woman’s face softened. “My mother. Jellybean was the last gift she gave me before she died.”

“Can you please let me in?” Sonia glanced behind her. The shadows grew longer, and the temperature continued to drop. The street was deserted now. “I need to see Fae. Monty sent me.” Sonia hated that her voice shook. She couldn’t help but notice the woman who blocked her path was intoxicating. The stranger’s dark hair rippled in the cold light of the shop, and her tight fitting shirt revealed far more than it chose to conceal. Her eyes burned black in the darkness, and despite her fear, Sonia felt herself falling inside them. 
They were safe. Familiar somehow. It didn’t make sense.

“Why the hell would Monty send you here?” The woman straightened, and the illusion of a simple shop owner vanished.

Jellybean barked. The dog’s body tensed, and she stood in front of Sonia, protecting her from the darkness beyond. The energy on the street grew malignant. The dog’s eyes flashed red and power radiated from her.
Sonia and the woman stared, momentarily speechless.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Come on.” The woman grinned as Jellybean jumped up and down. “Get in here.”

Dark laughter echoed down the street and Sonia flinched.

Jellybean growled, the hair on the back of her neck standing straight up.

Sighing deeply, the woman held the door open. “Come on then. Jellybean’s vouching for you and I’ve been looking for you myself.”

“Thank you.” Sonia scurried through the door, tears of relief brimming on her lashes. She blinked, but the tears still managed to fall. She was an immortal. Fear was not something she was used to living with, and it made her angry. Her head and soul were still spinning from everything that had happened in the past hour. She staggered. Her life was about to change even more. She could feel it.

About the author:

Erzabet Bishop has been crafting stories since she could pound keys on her parents’ old typewriter. She has only just learned that it is a whole lot more fun writing naughty books. She is a contributing author to the Silk Words website with her Fetish Fair choose your own romantic adventure stories, Elemental Passions, Potnia, A Christmas To Remember, Taboo II, Club Rook: The Series, Sweat, Bossy, When the Clock Strikes Thirteen, Unbound Box, Milk & Cookies & Handcuffs, Holidays in Hell, Corset Magazine: Sex Around the World Issue and Man vs. Machine: The Sex Toy Issue, Smut by the Sea Volume 2, Hell Whore Volume 2, Can’t Get Enough (upcoming, Cleis), Slave Girls, The Big Book of Submission (upcoming Cleis), Hungry for More (upcoming Cleis), Gratis II, Anything She Wants, Dirty Little Numbers, Kink-E magazine, Eternal Haunted Summer, Coming Together: Girl on Girl, Shifters and Coming Together: Hungry for Love among others. She is the author of Lipstick (upcoming), Dinner Date, Tethered, Sigil Fire, The Erotic Pagans Series: Beltane Fires, Samhain Shadows and Yuletide Temptation. She lives in Texas with her husband, furry children and can often be found lurking in local bookstores. She loves to bake, make naughty crochet projects and watch monster movies. When she isn’t writing, she loves to review music and books.

Follow her reviews and posts on Twitter @erzabetbishop.


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