Thursday, December 31, 2015

Looking Back, Looking Ahead

From a writing perspective, I found 2015 pretty frustrating. My husband and I are starting a new business. That had me traveling internationally eight months out of the twelve. When I wasn’t on a trip or planning for one, I was sending out letters, reviewing proposals, or engaged in other work-related tasks.

I felt as though I had no time to write. There was a five month period when I didn’t add a single word to my main WIP. Since I don’t make my living off my books, I felt that I had to get the other stuff done first. But I really missed writing.

So when I review what I actually accomplished this year, I’m astonished. I had twelve single-author releases. This includes four books in my D&S Duos series, a dark paranormal erotic collection Fourth World, my paranormal erotic romance The Eyes of Bast, my BDSM erotic romance Nasty Business, and my first two stand-alone lesbian titles, Her Own Devices and The Witches of Gloucester.

I self-published three shorts, all with my own covers. I also contributed to four charitable anthologies published by Coming Together. And I had a story included in Laura Antoniou’s Best Lesbian Erotica 2015 volume.

Another accomplishment from 2015 was editing The Gonzo Collection, by Daddy X. I’m really proud of this volume of bizarre and original tales. 
The thing that really has me excited, though, is the fact that I have finished that WIP that was hanging over me all year. I just sent the manuscript for The Gazillionaire and the Virgin off to my editor. It’s due out from Excessica on January 29, 2016. This is the first novel I’ve written since The Ingredients of Bliss, in August 2014. It’s a classic romancewith lots of kinky sex!

So what does 2016 hold, aside from my billionaire CEO and her lusty but inexperienced Dom? Well, first of all, Totally Bound will be releasing new, expanded editions of Raw Silk and Incognito during the first half of the year. When it comes to new stories, I have so many ideas I really can’t decide.

I’ve been toying with the notion of writing a novel that’s brings together Kate, Gregory, Miranda and Mark, set in Thailand. It’s interesting to speculate about the emotional and sexual dynamics among these four characters.

There’s also The Toymakers’ Guild, which I’ve had on my back burner for a long timea steam punk erotica series about a mysterious organization of sexual engineers who construct custom sex gadgets for the rich and well-connectedbut who have their own relationships and secrets.

I’d also like to write more F/F fiction. And M/M fiction too. I have notions for sequels to both Quarantine and Necessary Madness.

Really, the problem isn’t a lack of ideas, but a lack of time. My push to finish Gazillionaire reminded me how much I love to write, though. My New Year’s resolution is to make more time for that activity in 2016.

Happy New Year to all of my visitors and readers!
May 2016 be everything you wish!

Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Whilst In Scotland...

By Sabrina York (Guest Blogger)

Lisabet asked me to share some of my adventures during my recent visit to Scotland, to research my next Highlander series. My brain started to spin, because there were so many stories I would love to share! Let’s stick to the top five things I experienced in Scotland!

We took the Caledonian Sleeper Car from London to Inverness Very romantic! Here’s my berth:

We had High Tea at the Grand Highland hotel!

I sat at a table with a plate of Haggis Balls in front of me. (Notice I am not eating them). I think my expression says it all.

We visited the village my mother’s family came from!

We found the end of the rainbow!

What do you write?

People often ask me what I write…and then they are surprised by my answer: Everything

My huge confession: In addition to being dyslexic, I have ADD. Yeah, I write all over the place. Every genre fascinates me and I cannot resist testing myself everywhere! (I recently even wrote a Sci Fi Space Opera!)

What do you like to read??

Hot Highlander? Gottem.

Do you read contemporaries too?

Like Cowboys??? This scorching collection of cowboys… are also firefighters! You don’t want to miss these stories by 12 NYT and USA Today Bestselling authors!

Yeah. I pretty much have it all!

Here’s what I promise. All my romances, no matter the sub-genre, are filled with steamy passion, snarky humor, super HOT heroes and a happy ending.
Sign up for my newsletter for exclusive content, sneak peeks at new books and covers, members-only contests and more.

New Release!

Bestselling author Sabrina York carries readers back to the wild Scottish Highlands, where the bravest of men surrender to no one-except the boldest of women...

Scotland, 1813.

A scandalous temptation.

Andrew Lochlannach is famous for his conquests, on and off the battlefield. When a fellow warrior challenges him to a kissing contest, he wastes no time in planting his lips on ninety-nine lovely lasses-an impressive feat of seduction that gets him banished to the hinterlands. Still, Andrew has no regrets about his exploits-especially his embrace with the most beguiling woman he's ever met...

An undeniable passion.

With flaming red hair and a temper to match, Susana is not some innocent farmgirl who gives herself over easily to a man, even one as ruggedly handsome as Andrew. The wicked Scot may have won a kiss from the headstrong beauty in a moment of mutual desire, but Susana refuses to be just another one of his conquests. Andrew must convince the fiery lass that even though he is not playing a game, losing her is not an option...

"You can't go wrong with a Sabrina York story."-Desiree Holt


Susana was annoyed. There was no doubt about it. The swish of her hips as she led him across the bustling bailey was a dead giveaway, that and the dark glowers she shot over her shoulder. But Andrew couldn’t help but be amused. For one thing, she was damn alluring with she was annoyed.

Hell, she was damn alluring altogether. The curve of her waist alone could drive a man insane, much less that silky tumble of hair. He wanted to wrap it is his fist, wind it around his body. A certain part of his body.

At the thought, his cock rose.

It was difficult to remind himself that he’d vowed to eschew seduction, but try as he might, he couldn’t banish the fantasy of stripping those breeks from her lovely body and laying her down in the heather. Visions of that twitching backside—bare before him—danced in his head.

But he’d made a vow. A sacred vow. And as tempting as she was, he would control his baser urges. He could. Probably.

These thoughts whirled in his head as she led him into the stables, past his men—who were unpacking and seeing to their horses—and through the kennels. Though he was perplexed, Andrew followed. He would probably follow anywhere she led. It was a fact that should have scared him to death or at the very least, concerned him. But it didn’t. However, when she started up a staircase at the very end of the long hall, he had to stop her.

She glared at the hand he set on her arm. He tried to ignore the sizzle that raged through him at their first touch. It was ridiculous how much that touch affected him. And how much he enjoyed her glare.

He edged closer. “Where are we going?” he asked in a purr.

Judging from her frown, his tone irritated her. He rather enjoyed irritating her, he found.

She ripped her arm away and continued up the stairs. He followed and found himself in a narrow loft that ran the length of the kennels. It was dim and a little dusty. Motes danced on the air. The roof was so low he had to duck his head to miss the rafters.

Your men will stay here,” she said.

Andrew gaped at her. The room was swept clean and empty. A thin shaft of light from the far window illuminated it with a murky light. But the yipping from the kennel and the stench of excrement wafted up from below. For some reason, all thoughts of alluring backsides dissipated. Disbelief gushed through him. “Here?”

She crossed her arms and offered what could only be described as a smirk. “Here.”

He tipped his head to the side. “This is a kennel.”

I am aware of that.”

I have twenty-five men.”

The room is quite large.”

There are no beds.”

She blew out a breath. “We’ll bring in pallets.”

Andrew blinked. He set his teeth and tried to remain calm. His men were warriors. They did not sleep on pallets. In a kennel. “This will not do.” Surely she saw that. Surely she understood… He caught a glimpse of her smug expression and it dawned on him.

She did. She did understand. She knew damn well what she was doing. Her response only verified his suspicions.

I’m sorry, but you have descended upon us with no warning whatsoever with a large group of men. I’m afraid this is all we can offer you at this time.” Her smile was deferential, but hardly sincere. The light dancing in her eyes lit a flame in his belly. “Of course, if our accommodations are unacceptable, you can always return to Dunnet…”

Oh, she’d like that, wouldn’t she?

The minx.

Rather than the exasperation her self-satisfied look should have sparked, Andrew found himself filled with another emotion entirely. Anticipation. Exhilaration. The thrill of a challenge.

For that was what she was, Susana Dounreay. A challenge.

And it appeared she reveled in provoking him.

A pity she didn’t understand he was a dangerous man to provoke.

The tumult her presence sparked within him flared again, burning the edges of his resolution; his inconvenient lust blossomed, and with it, an unruly resolve.

He wanted, very badly, to kiss her. He wanted to wrench her into his arms and cover her sweet mouth with his. He wanted to taste her, consume her, possess her.

And he would.

Clearly he wasn’t the kind of man who could swear off women. Clearly he wasn’t the kind of man who could keep a vow.

So be it.

Damn to hell his ridiculous vow.

Damn to hell the fact that she was his sister-in-law.

He was going to seduce this vixen, and he would start right now.

Desire, like a snarling, snapping beast, rose within him, and he stepped closer.

Susana’s eyes flared as Andrew advanced on her, like a skulking fox that had spotted a plump rabbit. She didn’t mean to retreat, but she had to. She’d seen that expression in his eyes before and she knew what it meant. Something within her howled: Run.

Perhaps it was the expression in his eyes, or the knowledge that she was playing with fire, or the sudden realization that she’d foolishly come here, to this deserted loft with the most dangerous man she’d ever met, but she couldn’t still the urge to whirl and pace to the far end of the room to peer out of the smudged window. She was aware he followed. She felt his presence like a fire in a forge.

Desperation prompted her to continue their conversation, to put some space between them, to raise a shield. “The room is perfectly habitable,” she proclaimed. “And once we have pallets brought in, it will serve you well.”

Will it?”

His voice was low in her ear, a whisper almost. And far too close. She wanted to turn, to confront him, but she knew, if she did, they would be face to face, perhaps lip to lip and she could not allow that. She could never allow that.

The last time he’d kissed her, it had been her undoing.

A pity he didn’t remember.

My men willna like being housed with the dogs.” Holy God. Was that his hand on her hip? His thumb tracing her waist? “Nae doubt they will all want to find…other beds to welcome them.”

Susana stilled as his words sank in. The threat was clear. And it was rather horrifying. A horde of randy warriors set loose on the innocent maidens of Dounreay? That his hand had slid over to toy with the small of her back, to tangle in the skeins of her hair, didn’t help.

Her pulse thudded and her knees went weak. She couldn’t have it. She couldn’t have this man touching her. She sucked in a breath and slipped to the side, out of his grasp. When she was far enough away for some measure of safety, she turned to face him, a reproachful look fixed on her face. “Are your men so lacking in discipline?” She hoped her frown, her reproving tone, would bring him to heel. She should have known better.

He grinned and stepped closer. His eyes glinted, as though needling her was an amusing sport. “They are verra disciplined…when their needs are met.”

She crossed her arms, as though that could protect her, and pretended to study the room. Pretended she wasn’t aware of his thrumming presence, his heat, his intent. “Well, I shall hold you responsible for any…improprieties.” She took a step toward the staircase, only a tiny one—surely not an attempt to escape.

He chuckled—chuckled, the bastard—making it clear he recognized her cowardice for what it was. And he paced her.

They’re all good men. They all volunteered to come with me. Each and every one of them is dedicated to the cause of protecting Reay from the villains who have been plaguing you. However…”

The way he trailed off derailed her retreat. She stilled. Glared at him. “However, what?”

However, they do have…needs. Surely you can find better lodgings.”

She blew out a breath. “In time.” In time.

In time, he would be gone, God willing.

He stepped toward her again, although nonchalantly, as though he were not chasing her across the room. It occurred to her they were engaged in something of a macabre dance. It set her nerves on edge. She hadn’t realized what a long room this was, or how far it was to the stairs.

Doona leave it too long.” His smile was heinous. It made all kinds of shivers dance over her skin. “My men are…restless.” She had the chilling sense he was talking about himself.

I shall…do my best.” Like hell. “And now, if you will excuse me, I have things to do.”

His brow quirked. She tried not to notice what a perfect brow it was. “Ah, but I thought you and I could…talk.”

Talk?” She didn’t intend to squawk, but she could tell from his predatory stance, a conversation was not the primary urge on his mind. At least, not one with words.

He nodded. Though his features were patently earnest, the sincerity was patently affected. “About the defenses you have in place…so I can decide what needs improvement.”

Aggravation rippled. It displaced her concerns about being here, with him, all alone. Fury did that, she’d often found. Overrode common sense and led one into dangerous waters. Her hands curled into fists. She strode toward him until they were nearly nose to nose. “Nothing needs improvement,” she snapped. They didn’t need him. Or his men. Or his stupid ideas.

Nonsense. Now that we’re here, we intend to make a statement to Stafford, or whatever miscreants are lurking out there thinking Dounreay is an easy target. But before I set my plans in motion—”

Your plans?” He already had plans? Och! He was so exasperating.

She barely noticed that he stepped closer…until their chests brushed. He was hard and hot; the touch made her tingle. His voice, low and luring made her tingle as well. His gaze skated over her face, then stalled on her lips. “Let’s meet and discuss—”

Her pulse skittered. “I doona have time to meet with you. Not today.” She took a step back. He followed.

Nae?” A whisper. And his caress over her shoulder, that was a whisper as well. Like a panicked fawn, Susana eased back again. And again. He matched her, step for step.

She swallowed heavily. “I… You have descended upon us with no warning—”

My brother sent a letter.”

He was too close. Far too close. She swallowed heavily. “Twenty-five men that now need to be housed and fed. On top of that, I have many other duties that need attending.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Which duties?”

Many duties.” She frowned and glanced toward the staircase. Ah, lord. It was so far… He was too warm. Too broad. Too alluring. Though she didn’t intend to, she took another step back and—

Oh hell. He’d backed her against the wall. That he couldn’t stand straight in the low-ceilinged room was a small consolation.

Susana,” he said as he leaned closer. His breath was a tantalizing trail over her face.

An unholy thrill snaked through her. Surely that wasn’t anticipation? Hunger? Need?

She could not allow him to kiss her. She could not—

Her knees nearly melted at the touch of his lips. His warmth, his taste, his scent made her mind whirl. Thank God he had his hands on her waist and was holding her steady, or she might well have collapsed.

It occurred to her that she should push him away, fight him, but she couldn’t. Something, something deep within her resisted. Something deep within her needed him. Needed this.

And ah, it was glorious. As glorious as she remembered.

His lips were soft, gentle, questing as they tested hers and then, with a groan, he pulled her closer, melding their bodies together. He deepened the kiss, sealing his mouth over hers and dancing his tongue over the seam.

She opened to him. She couldn’t resist. He filled her senses with his presence, his heat. With tiny nibbles, sucks and laps, he consumed her, enflamed her. All sanity fled. All logic and resolution and anger flitted away as Andrew tasted her, tempted her.

His hands were not still. They roved over her body from her shoulders, down her arms to her waist. They tangled in her hair and stroked her cheek and chin.

Heat blossomed, skittered through her veins. Her body softened, melted, prepared for him.

She should not have responded the way she did. She should not have pressed against him, rubbed against the hard bulge on his belly. She should not have explored the hard flesh of his back, cupped his nape, raked his silken scalp. She should not have moaned.

Surely all these things would only encourage him.

He lifted his head and stared at her, an odd mixture of befuddlement and awe in his eyes. His tongue peeped out and dabbed at his lips, snagging her attention. Surely she didn’t lean toward him in a mute plea for more.

Was she truly so weak?

Aye. She was.


"Bold and steamy"—Publisher’s Weekly
"A stunning tale from beginning to end"—Love, Life and Booklust

"Top Pick"—Night Owl Reviews

"York turns her talent for sizzle to men in kilts—and the women who 
love them—in her newest sexy romp"—RT Magazine

Untamed Highlanders Series
Susana and the Scot—Coming December 29th
Lana and the Laird—Coming in May 2016

Want More Highlanders by Sabrina York?

About Sabrina York

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy to scorching romance. Visit her webpage at to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Get updates and alerts from Sabrina here: HotSheet Sign Up.

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Tuesday, December 29, 2015

Review Tuesday: Invisible Ink by Elisabeth Joye

Invisible Ink by Elisabeth Joye
Self-published, 2015

In the world of explicit fiction, eroticism is sometimes treated as synonymous with sex. In my view, they could hardly be more different. Sex is about physical acts and the sensual pleasure they engender. Eroticism involves the experience of desire, an emotional state that may be entirely independent of bodily arousal.

Of course, desire and sex often occur together (the former usually being the cause, the latter the effect), but that’s not always true. I’ve read far too many self-styled “erotic” stories in which the author’s primary concern seemed to be who was doing what to whom, without much attention paid to how anyone felt about the process. Meanwhile, it’s possible to write (though difficult to sell!) erotic tales that include little or no sexual activity. For instance, I have a BDSM story (“Stroke”, originally published in the anthology Please Sir) in which the hero is a Dom half paralyzed by a cerebral hemorrhage, who seduces his kink-curious nurse without ever touching her.

I’ll lay out my bias clearly before I continue. I’m far more interested in the infinite variations of desire than I am in the ultimately limited repertoire of sexual acts.

Elisabeth Joye’s debut novella Invisible Ink is almost one hundred percent sex scenes. At the same time, it’s one of the most erotic books I’ve read in a while. The book’s premise is a bit implausible—a woman so ensnared by sexual need for one particular man that she will do anything to be with him, regardless of the consequences—but Ms. Joye focuses so strongly on Lex’s inner life that I could suspend my disbelief, at least while I was reading.

Jake is literally a rock star. Lex begins as a fan. When he singles her out from the crowd of adoring groupies, she falls deeply and permanently under his spell. The chemistry between them is so strong it overwhelms everything else—rationality, responsibility, morality.

What’s erotic about this scenario? Being known. Jake knows what Lex wants before she’s aware of it herself. He challenges her to act upon her desires—and to satisfy his—no matter how outrageous. We all hide things from our lovers. The notion that we might share our darkest fantasies, without guilt or blame, can be intoxicating. Jake offers Lex exactly this freedom. In fact, he demands it.

He knows Lex in another, more visceral way as well. Through intuition, skill or luck, he understands how to play her body in order to evoke the maximum pleasure. We all dream of finding the perfect lover whose every touch is bliss. Jake has that gift, at least as far as Lex is concerned.

It’s erotic to be known, to the dirty depths of your soul. It’s also intensely arousing to be chosen by the one you desire, to feel that you alone can satisfy that person’s need. In Invisible Ink, the author makes it clear that no woman has ever gotten under Jake’s skin the way Lex has, despite his skittishness about commitment and her explicit renunciation of any sort of long term relationship. The heroine’s sense of being unique, special, destined to love the hero, is a touchstone of romance, but it’s also intensely erotic.

The sex in Invisible Ink is moderately extreme. The book includes transgressive scenes involving bondage, voyeurism and public sex. And yes, Jake has a huge cock (sigh), which makes the rough sex all the more edgy. I was more impressed, though, by Ms. Joye’s attention to the subtler aspects of their physical connection—Jake’s warm breath, his distinctive smell, his stubble scraping against Lex’s flesh, and his seductive, irresistible voice. The best scenes in the book are the ones where he wrings an orgasm from Lex without even touching her.

But then perhaps I’m just revealing my bias.

Although we see Jake only through Lex’s eyes, he’s a far more substantial character than she is. His hot-and-cold moods, his arrogance and conceit, his hidden need, all make sense in the context of who he is—adored as a star, but also exploited as a commodity. Lex on the other hand seems to have no personal traits other than her obsession with Jake. When she’s not with him, she’s rather boring. She hooks up with boring men. It’s as if she only exists as Jake’s lover.

Perhaps this is exactly the point Ms. Joye was trying to make. I found it disappointing, even distressing, however. Why would a complex, tortured, creative person like Jake fall in love with a non-entity like Lex? It’s clear their connection is more than just sex. What does he see in her that I didn’t?

Furthermore, although I love Ms. Joye’s brilliant, believable portrayal of Lex’s erotic obsession, I have a hard time swallowing a woman who’d blithely abandon her job for sex. Even Jake seems a bit shocked when she tells him she’s been fired (presumably because he feels responsible). I suppose my feminist upbringing is partially responsible for my horror, but still, Invisible Ink would have been far more intriguing if Lex experienced some actual conflict about jettisoning her career, her boyfriend, or her fiancĂ©, when Jake calls.

Invisible Ink excels in its portrayal of a woman under the hypnotic influence of desire. It never goes beyond that point, though. Given the insight Ms. Joye shows in some of this book, I think she can do better. I look forward to her next work.

Monday, December 28, 2015

Sneak Peek: Asylum by Dana Wright


In the shadows of the heart, love is the greatest refuge.

Rachel Winestock is in a bad spot. She needs to get her Nana out of an abysmal assisted living center no ifs, ands, or buts about it. With the help of her demon cat Thickety, she agrees to put her ghost-hunting mettle back to the test after a horrific accident nearly claimed the life of her best friend. Ghosts are drawn to Rachel, and like her Nana says, with any great gift comes a great responsibility.

Matt Rutledge suffers no fool lightly—especially frauds who prey on the weak and grieving. A professional reality show host, he's seen his fair share of bad apples. One look at Rachel has him wondering just which side of the barrel she falls into. He knows there's something bad within the walls of Bremore Asylum. The voices of the past are alive behind the imposing iron gates. Now he just has to prove it.

When Rachel agrees to take the job investigating the disappearance of a fellow ghost hunter at Bremore Asylum, she is totally unprepared for the sexy and stubborn psychic debunker Matt Rutledge to be a part of the package. Can these two opposing forces, with the help of a very cranky demon cat, find the answers behind the asylum's crumbling walls before the asylum's grim history repeats itself?

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All Romance:


Rachel Winestock quietly let herself into the room where her grandmother lay nestled under the sheets, the blankets swallowing her slender frame. Pale and shrunken, she was a frail shadow of what she had been months ago. Rachel smiled at the sound of her steady breathing and light snoring. Nana needed her rest and was stubborn about admitting it. Peering over at her wizened face, her grandmother’s lips appeared chapped.

Damn it. What do these people have against ChapStick?

It wasn’t fair. Nana appeared to be shrinking right before her eyes. Rachel had already lost her parents. She didn’t want to lose Nana too. It was too much. Especially after everything they’d been through over the last year. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and she fought against them. She had to be strong.


If Nana woke up and found her crying, there would be hell to pay. Rachel sniffled and forced her emotions in check.

She needs to get out of here.” Thickety blurted out, his shadowy form hidden in the dimness of the room. His long cat tail flicked his distain, and he edged his head toward Rachel. Red eyes glowed from his smoky black form that could be as solid or transparent as he needed it to be. “The smell is worse than a cat box.”

Why do you insist on following me? Can’t you just leave well enough alone?” Rachel ground out, trying her hardest not to make eye contact with the demonic cat. He’d been in her life since she could remember and nowhere along the way had it ever been easy. “And I know that. Look at those bruises.”

Hey. I’m doing you a solid here. You want to know where the missing bracelet is that used to be on her arm? I’d look at that attendant down the hall.”

The last time I listened to you someone almost died.”

Don’t you mean ignore? I told you the child was in the house, not to go poking into foundation walls with no structure to hold them up. There’s a difference, sweet cheeks.” Thickety raised his paw and licked at his foot. “Remember I was right. Just because your friend decided to get a little crazy with a mallet and found herself buried was not my fault.”

Rachel sucked in a breath and gritted her teeth. “Look. I came here to see my grandmother. Can we save the arguments for later?”

Fine.” The cat yawned and crept closer, his eyes focused on Rachel’s Nana. “She used to be livelier than this. What are they feeding her?”

I don’t know but whatever it is, it’s not enough. She looks terrible.” Weak and more fragile than she had ever seen her, Rachel had to do something to get her out of here. Even if that something was take a job working for Harold Danvers. The past was the past. It was easy to say that until the nightmares came, leaving her shaking in her bed covered in sweat.

About the Author

Dana Wright has always had a fascination with things that go bump in the night. She is often found playing at local bookstores, trying not to maim herself with crochet hooks or knitting needles, watching monster movies with her husband and furry kids or blogging about books. More commonly, she is chained to her computers, writing like a woman possessed. She is currently working on several children's stories, young adult fiction, romantic suspense, short stories and is trying her hand at poetry. She is a contributing author to Ghost Sniffer’s CYOA, Siren’s Call E-zine in their “Women in Horror” issue in February 2013 and "Revenge" in October 2013, a contributing author to Potatoes!, Fossil Lake, Of Dragons and Magic: Tales of the Lost Worlds, Undead in Pictures, Potnia, Shadows and Light, Dark Corners (upcoming), Wonderstruck, Shifters: A Charity Anthology, Dead Harvest, Monster Diaries, Holiday Horrors and the Roms, Bombs and Zoms Anthology from Evil Girlfriend Media.

She is the author of Asylum, The Invitation and Texas Twister. Dana has also reviewed music for specializing in New Age and alternative music and has been a contributing writer to Eternal Haunted Summer, Massacre Magazine, Metaphor Magazine, The Were Traveler October 2013 edition: The Little Magazine of Magnificent Monsters, the December 2013 issue The Day the Zombies Ruled the Earth. She currently reviews music at New Age Music Reviews and Write a Music Review.

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Sunday, December 27, 2015

Sunday Snog #206: A Brand New Kiss from Incognito

I’ve got an especially delicious kiss for you today, from the new and expanded edition of Incognito, coming from Totally Bound in the first quarter of 2016. You’re the very first people (other than my editor) to read this!

After you’ve recovered from my snog, head over to Victoria’s place for more weekend kisses from your favorite authors!

Do you mind if I join you?” The voice was rich and mellow as a premium Scotch, with a posh accent that spoke of education and breeding. “A lovely woman like you shouldn’t be drinking alone.”

She swung back to face the stairs. A man stood opposite her, on the other side of the table. His trim, compact body, clad in an impeccably tailored suit, blocked her view. He wore a designer watch and a gold signet that shone in the muted light. A wealthy older man looking for some company, she thought. He had dark, wavy hair, with a hint of grey at the temples, and knowing eyes framed by laugh lines. Stubble dusted his solid chin, a startling contrast to his otherwise perfect grooming. It gave him a slightly dangerous air.

I’m sorry—I’m waiting for someone...”

It appears you’ve been jilted.” Without waiting for her agreement, the stranger seated himself in the chair beside her. His thigh muscles flexed under his trousers. A waft of his cologne, something sharp and woodsy, reached her nose. She swallowed the saliva that flooded her mouth and struggled to speak.

Waiter! Another round for the lady, please. Glenfiddich for me, straight up.” He leaned closer, close enough that his unfamiliar scent made her dizzy. “Good thing I came along. It would be a great shame to waste this delightful evening.”

Miranda couldn’t understand why she was so flustered. Certainly he was aggressive, but she was an expert at fending off unwanted masculine attention. “My husband—“ she began.

Is a very lucky man,” he concluded. “Though he’s crazy to let you out of his sight. His loss is my gain, however.”

Something shifted. Something in his voice or his manner triggered sudden recognition. Mark? She almost blurted it out loud, but the stranger’s eyes—Mark’s eyes—held her spellbound. He let his mask slip for an instant. Play with me, he broadcast in that silent gaze. Play out the scene.

Their beverages arrived. Raising the glass to his lips, he let the amber liquid slide down his throat, clearly savouring every drop. “Wonderful,” he commented. She took a tentative sip of her wine. “That’s right. Drink up, sweetheart. Then we’ll go to my room.”

The confidence—no, arrogance—she heard in his voice lit a fire in her belly. He was, quite simply, amazing. He’d turned himself into someone else, so effectively she had to keep reminding herself that the man leaning over and murmuring smutty suggestions in her ear was actually her husband.

She pretended to fight her rising arousal. “Really? What makes you think I’ll go with you?”

I can read it in your body. I can see it in your eyes. You’re a randy slut who’s dying to be shagged.”

His words kindled delicious shame, electric heat. Liquid gushed into her panties. “No, no. I’m married. I’m here on my honeymoon...”

Then where’s your bridegroom?”

Detained, I’m sure. Probably caught in traffic. He could arrive any minute...”

We’d better be going then. Come along, sweetheart.” He tossed a twenty pound note onto the table, then grabbed her by the elbow to pull her toward the lifts.

Wait—no...” The elevator doors had barely closed before he had her backed against the wall, pinned by his weight. His breath was hot in her ear.

Can you honestly say you don’t want me, woman? That you don’t want this?” He ground the hard ridge of his erection into her abdomen.


His mouth silenced her half-hearted objections. Miranda melted. He might look different, smell different, but she knew these ripe lips, this bold tongue. Throwing her arms around his neck, she poured herself into the delirious kiss.

Without relinquishing her mouth, he clawed at her suit jacket, then slipped a hand inside so he could thumb one taut nipple. She moaned into his throat and squirmed in his arms, arching against him. He abandoned her breast, leaving it swollen and aching, to slide his palm up under her skirt. He found the bare skin above her thigh-high stocking. She shuddered as he wormed his fingers into her soaked panties to stroke her pubic fur. Sharp pleasure sparked through her limbs and spiralled into her core.

You’re drenched, sweetheart,” he murmured, finally breaking the kiss to smear her own moisture across her lips. “Protest all you like. Your body doesn’t lie. You love the idea of a hard, fast, anonymous fuck.”