Saturday, February 28, 2015

Anything can be inspirational

By Helena Stone (Guest Blogger)

If I ever get married, it will be to a girl like her.”

That line appears in Little Rainbows and was plucked from real life. In fact, when I first thought about writing a book, that line was the only thing I had. Whatever my story would end up being about, I needed that line to be in it.

You see, when I was fifteen years old, somebody used those words while referring to me. He didn’t say them to my face, but they reached my ears anyway and I’ve never forgotten them.

Never mind that I wasn’t in love with the boy in question. Never mind that I haven’t seen him since that summer. When somebody likes or admires you enough to say something like that – especially when you’re not around to hear the compliment – it gives you the sort of confidence boost to last a lifetime.

Of course, in Little Rainbows the man who used the words and the woman he said them about, do meet again and are given a second opportunity to create something beautiful together. Their journey is riddled with obstacles though, so it is by no means certain that Jason will get his wish.

The second thing to inspire me was a geological phenomenon I encountered a few weeks before I started writing. Up until that moment I hadn’t known there were such things as blowholes. I’ll use Jason’s words to try and explain what a blowhole is:

A blowhole is a deep opening in the ground a short distance away from the shore. There’s an underground connection between the sea and the hole where water gathers. Every so often the water erupts. It is a powerful sight when a huge column of water shoots straight up into the air, only to disappear again.”

Jason is right. It is a powerful and mesmerising sight. Once I’d seen the blowhole near Belmullet and the spouting water, I knew I had to set my book on the west coast of Ireland just so I could get that magical experience into my story. I can only hope my words do the beauty and magnitude of an erupting blowhole justice. 

Little Rainbows by Helena Stone
MF BDSM Erotic Romance
General Release Date: 20th March
Available now for early download!
Heat Rating: Burning
Book Length: Super Novel


When Jason and Heather first meet they are young and sure they are wrong for each other. As a result they spend a summer admiring each other from a safe distance.

Twenty years later Heather is coming out of mourning, having lost her husband and Dom eighteen months earlier. Jason, now the owner of an exclusive sex resort on the west coast of Ireland, struggles with the loss of his desire to dominate.

Jason’s resort is about to celebrate its first anniversary and party planner Heather has been hired to create the perfect celebration. Their reunion comes as a big surprise to both of them.

Old and familiar attraction battles with new and conflicting emotions as Jason and Heather work together to organize the ultimate BDSM event. Overcoming the issues between them isn’t the only obstacle Jason and Heather face. In the background lurks a threat both to Heather’s independence and Jason’s livelihood.


There it was, her opportunity to kick-start her life again. And, as restarts went, it made quite an impression. The hotel or club—she wasn’t quite sure how to label the building—looked rather grand at the end of the long drive. The Atlantic Ocean, throwing up a spray in the distance, only enhanced the picture. Even on this bright summer’s day she could see small rainbows in the watery mist the waves were producing. It would be easy to confuse this place with any of the up-market tourist traps the west coast of Ireland was peppered with. This could be any other posh resort catering to Americans trying to find their roots and golfers looking for an opportunity to try the links courses littered along the coastline. The heavy gate blocking the entrance told a different story. She knew too much about this place, its purpose and what happened behind those gates to confuse it for anything except what it was, a dream from the past and—if everything went according to plan—the start of the rest of her life.

She’d been looking at the building, the grounds, the gate and the little buzzer on the intercom box for a few minutes. If anybody on the inside happened to be keeping an eye on the entrance through those security cameras, they would have decided she was either scared or crazy by now—and they’d be right. She was apprehensive. Her hands were clasped together, her fingers worrying her wedding ring. After eighteen months of virtually living like a hermit, coming here felt like diving in headfirst. Still, if she’d had any doubts about leaving Dublin, that surprise visitor two weeks ago and his shocking proposal had taken care of those.

The bastard. She refused to even think his name. It still bothered her he’d had the nerve to show up at her door like that. Where would he have gotten the idea she’d be open to his suggestions? It had been clear that he’d expected her to embrace his offer—or should she call it an order—with open arms. His delusions of grandeur must have gotten the better of him, or he’d confused her with someone she clearly wasn’t. She didn’t get it. Even before her self-inflicted confinement, she’d made a point of staying away from him. Why would he think she’d changed her mind about him just because she was on her own? She didn’t know but lingering on that memory right now didn’t serve any purpose. She didn’t want him in her thoughts, especially not now. It would only make her more nervous than she already was.

She’d thought this place would be the perfect setting for her return to the BDSM world she’d been ignoring for well over a year. Now that the moment was close, now that she had to take this last step out of her confinement, the first step into her future, she couldn’t help second-guessing herself. Was she really ready to move forward? Could she do it on her own? She’d never been a part of this lifestyle without her husband and his loving support.

With a sigh she lifted her hand and pressed the little button. She’d come this far. She hadn’t driven the five hours from Dublin only to turn away at the last hurdle. If she gave up now, it would be the end of the business they’d built together. If she chickened out of this, there would be no way of ever going back on her own terms. Going forward scared the shit out of her but going back frightened her even more. She could do this. She’d promised she would take this step. Breaking her word was not an option, no matter how scared she was.

About Helena

Helena Stone can’t remember a life before words and reading. After growing up in a household where no holiday or festivity was complete without at least one new book, it’s hardly surprising she now owns more books than shelf space while her Kindle is about to explode.

The urge to write came as a surprise. The realisation that people might enjoy her words was a shock to say the least. Now that the writing bug has well and truly taken hold, Helena can no longer imagine not sharing the characters in her head and heart with the rest of the world.

Having left the hustle and bustle of Amsterdam for the peace and quiet of the Irish Country side she divides her time between reading, writing, long and often wet walks with the dog, her part-time job in a library, a grown-up daughter and her ever loving and patient husband.

Helena Stone can be found in the following places:

Email: helenastoneauthor [at] gmail [dot] com

Buy link:

Friday, February 27, 2015

LIve Long and Prosper

Leonard Nimoy
March 26, 1931 – February 27, 2015

Spock has left us. May he rest in peace.

He was dear to millions - probably more than he knew. Certainly he had a huge influence on me.

Live long and prosper.

Sneak Peek: Her Majesty by Willsin Rowe

[Today's sneak peek is a lusty, heart-filled lesbian erotic romance by Willsin Rowe, the guy who did the wonderful covers for my D&S Duos series. Enjoy! ~ Lisabet]


Short, skinny tomboy Kim hasn’t had a boyfriend for a while. In fact, not since she fell in love with her best friend. The trouble is, her best friend is Serena, a beautiful, big Italian goddess who’s engaged to be married.

Or was, at least. Until yesterday, when her fiancé finally confessed to myriad infidelities, laying the blame squarely on the size of Serena’s curvaceous ass.

As emotional therapy, the girls head away for a long weekend at a remote beach house. Just the two of them. No guys, no work, no distractions.

No inhibitions.

Can Kim work past her own fear and body issues to remind Serena just how damn sexy she really is?


I jumped into the shower to wash the salt from my body. As I dipped my head under the jet, the roar of the running water filled my head, to the point that I didn’t realize Serena had come into the bathroom until she spoke.

“Ugh! Disgusting!”

Fuck, you scared me!” I pushed open the shower door just a crack and my breath caught in my chest. She was naked. My beautiful, curvy best friend stood before me, completely naked. With her bottom turned toward me, she studied her hips and thighs in the mirror, slapping at her skin and making hypnotic waves. The trembling in my hands—in my entire body—made it almost impossible to shut off the water.

Say what you like about him, Wade was right about one thing. I’m getting huge. I look like gnocchi.”

I squeezed my lips together, but the words forced themselves out.

I love gnocchi.”

She smiled and looked at me in the mirror. Her eyes moved like blown feathers as she scanned every bare inch of me. It was all I could do to stand still under the intensity of her gaze, when all I wanted was to run and hide. Or dive head first into her welcoming arms and kiss her until Monday.

She hooked her hair behind her ears and filled me with a smile. “God, I’d love to have a body like yours.”

What, this old thing? Got it cheap from a ten-year-old boy. He grew out of it.”

The magic of laughter rippled superbly through her body. “I mean it! You can wear anything.”

Yeah...dolls’ clothes, those little puppy sweaters...”

She frowned and faced me. The real me, not the scared little girl in the mirror. “You’re being silly again. Stop it.”

Anything you say, your majesty.”

You don’t see it, do you? How beautiful you are.”


Yes, you. Is it really so hard to admit to yourself?”

Of course it was, when I compared myself to her. Deflection was my only hope. “Look who’s talking, Miss Gnocchi.”

Get your copy today! 
About the Author

Willsin Rowe falls in love with a scent, a playful expression or an act of casual intimacy more easily than with physical beauty. When confronted by any combination of those elements he is a lost cause.

He has done many things over and over, done even more things only once, and half-done more things than he cares to admit. He loves to sing and doesn't let his voice get in the way.

He is intelligent but not sensible. He is passionate but fearful. He is not scruffy enough or stylish enough to be cool.

Thursday, February 26, 2015

Cover Reveal for Upcoming Release!


I just signed a contract with Fireborn Publishing for a new release, a scifi short story entitled The Last Amanuensis. Normally, Fireborn uses stock covers for short fiction, but I convinced them to let me create my own cover. I thought you might like to see the result.

Not as good as Willsin's covers, but I'm getting better at this...!

Here's the blurb. The book will release in May.

Poetry is like blood – you can’t hold it back.

The Emperor has decreed that Reason will rule in his lands. Art and literature are banned in favor of military technology. The fearsome Preceptors prowl the capitol, arresting anyone who dares, even secretly, to engage in forbidden activities.

A former teacher and frustrated writer, Adele is grateful for her job as secretary to the enigmatic Professor. During the day, she transcribes his learned treatises on a vast range of topics. Then he calls her to his room one night, to give her a more difficult and intimate assignment, one that risks both their lives.

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

When Worlds Collide

By Ashe Barker (Guest Blogger)

Thank you, Lisabet, for inviting me back to your blog. It’s not that long since I was last here giving a shout out about Red Skye at Night. This time I’d like to chat a little about my other current release, Chameleon.

As I write this I am looking out of my window in the north of England at snow falling steadily outside. I suppose spring must be just around the corner, but that’s hard to imagine right now as I contemplate digging my car out – again. It’s at this time of year that my thoughts always turn to warmer climes and I start planning my summer holidays. For me that inevitably means finding my place in the sun, but I like to absorb my UV rays with a large side order of history and culture.

It was with that thought in mind that we decided to visit Morocco some years ago, the setting for Chameleon. It’s a truly beautiful country, close to Europe but a world apart. Morocco is a seductive blend of the traditional North African Berber way of life and the sophistication of a modern tourist destination. The French influence is everywhere, and I recall that this was particularly apparent in the hotels.

As is the case in many Muslim countries striving to attract Western tourism whilst retaining their traditional values, the hotels are often a microcosm environment containing an alien way of life. Alcohol is offered for sale, dress codes are more relaxed, even as far as tolerating topless sunbathing within the confines of the perimeter walls. But the contrast as soon as the visitor steps outside couldn’t be more pronounced – covered heads, modest dress, a proliferation of coffee houses serving a potent local brew which just about lifts the roof of your head off, and clattering with the sound of backgammon being played at lightning speed.

In the bustling, cosmopolitan Moroccan cities such as Tangier and Marrakesh camels vie with taxis and vans for space on the grid-locked roads – and often come out best. Children accompany tourists everywhere offering to shine your flip-flops or carry your bags in exchange for a dirham or two. Everywhere is loud, vibrant, teeming with life, in sharp contrast with the quiet serenity of the private hotels and riads.

The story is set in the Totally Five Star hotel in Marrakesh. Given that hotels can mask the traditional way of life, cocooning visitors in a fake reality, I wanted to make TFS Marrakesh as authentic as possible. I wanted to create a hotel which would be comfortable, offering the best accommodation, the finest services, a luxurious and unforgettable experience for guests but without sacrificing the qualities which are uniquely Morocco. So guests at TFS Marrakesh can enjoy fine wines and the best in international dining, but the hotel architecture echoes the traditional way of life which has evolved over centuries. It takes a little ingenuity on the part of Ethan Savage to adapt the facilities to suit his requirements as he introduces Fleur to his brand of BDSM, but I think he does a fine job.

I hope Chameleon succeeds in capturing some of the ambience of this atmospheric country. The main characters, Fleur and Ethan, couldn’t be more different. Their lives are worlds apart, yet they manage to find common ground, and the attraction between them is electric. This is a hot BDSM romance, erotic and fiercely sensual, but sensitive to the cultural issues this couple will face if they are to find their happy ever after. I suppose it’s fair to say that neither Fleur nor Ethan is especially true to their traditional roots, but their ability to compromise will be stretched to the max if they are to make this work.

Here’s an X-rated excerpt from the book.

Ethan raked his eyes over every inch of her from her small, slender feet, her slim legs, her smooth mound and slightly rounded stomach, up to her breasts and their swollen nipples now verging on the decadent. His eyes reached hers and held her gaze for a few moments before he lifted one finger, twirling it to indicate that she should turn around to show him the rear view.
Fleur obeyed, standing still as he trailed one fingertip along the top of her shoulder, from arm to neck, then slowly down her spine. It tickled, but she willed herself not to move. He reached the base of her spine and continued on, down the furrow between her buttocks until he reached the tight little hole of her anus.

Shall we have a little biology lesson, submissive style? Bend over, please. If you need to rest your hands on the table, that’s all right.”
Fleur’s pussy clenched violently. It was starting. He was starting. Now. She had to move slightly to be able to place her hands easily on the table that pressed her bottom more fully into Ethan’s hands. It felt strangely nice. She had no qualms about doing as he asked, assuming the position and even spreading her legs before he asked her to.

That’s good anticipation. Be careful, though. Usually, I’ll tell you exactly what I want. Can you open your legs even wider, please?”
Fleur complied and was rewarded with a long, open-handed stroke across her pussy, from clit to anus. Despite her anxiety, she groaned aloud.

When I refer to your cunt, I mean all of this. I’m not being specific. Pussy means the same. I’ll use both words a lot. What would you call it?”
She thought for a moment, searching for the correct medical terms and translating those into English. Or was that Latin? She wasn’t sure. “I would say vulva, Sir. Or labia majora. Labia minora. Perineum. Vagina.”

Ah, yes, very clinical.”

But I do know pussy, Sir.”

Excellent. We’ll be talking about your pussy and your cunt. Which includes here, too.” He slipped one long finger inside her, sliding easily through her entrance to bury the digit deep. He thrust twice before withdrawing to trace the outer lips on either side of her opening.

Pussy lips. Clit?” He slid his finger forward to rub the swelling nub.
Fleur gulped, struggling now to hold still. “Yes, Sir, my clitoris. Clit. I am familiar with that word too.”

You’ll be more familiar with it soon, sweetheart. You’ll come to know it intimately.” He swirled the pad of his finger lazily across the tip of her clit before working his way backwards to her circle her anus again.

And here?”

My, my anus. Sir. Oh!” Fleur jumped as Ethan slipped the tip of his exploring finger inside, now lubricated from his brief foray into her pussy.

Arse to us, love. Do you like this?” He rotated his finger slowly, pressing gently to ease it past her sphincter.

I am really not sure, Sir.” Then, as an afterthought, “It does not hurt.”

It’s not meant to. I will hurt you, a little perhaps, but not by accident. And not now. I intend to be very, very gentle with your arse, when I fuck you here.”
Whether her unsteadiness was caused by his words or his actions, she had no idea. Fleur only knew she stumbled forward as her knees threatened to give way. Ethan slipped an arm around her waist quickly, holding her in position. His finger sank deeper inside her arse.

Are you all right, Fleur?”

I… I think I am, Sir. It is difficult to remain on my feet, though, while you do…that.”

While I finger-fuck your arse? Is that what you mean?”

Yes, Sir. Oh…” She ground out the words as he withdrew his finger then plunged it back inside, hard.

Did that hurt?”

No, Sir.” She braced her hands more firmly on the low table top, closing her eyes as his firm, rhythmic movements in her anus focused her attention totally. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, biting down hard in her concentration.
Ethan continued to support her, taking most of her weight, she realised, as he thrust his finger in and out of her now unresisting arse. It felt good—incredibly good, in fact. Intimately wicked. This was in essence only the same thing he had done to her yesterday, but it felt different, more intense. And this time, she knew he would not stop at just a finger.
Fleur’s arousal grew. She panted, squeezing her pussy muscles. She wished he would—what? Touch her. She wanted him to stroke her clit.

Please, Sir, could you…?”

What, Fleur?”

I want you to touch me, Sir.” There, the words were out. Well, he did say she had to articulate her needs. He had even taught her the words he preferred to use. She intended to prove a diligent pupil in the short time that she would have him as her tutor.

Do you? Where? How?”

My clit, Sir. Please.”

How polite you are. I always find it amazing how a finger in her arse will do wonders for a sub’s manners.”

And here’s the blurb:

A chance meeting, two strangers whose paths cross—in the same place at the same time, yet a world apart.

When mining engineer Ethan Savage spots the cloaked, veiled woman riding a donkey in the Moroccan desert, he can be forgiven for thinking that in some respects nothing much has changed in two thousand years. She wouldn’t look out of place in Biblical times. They pass, nod, smile politely and go their separate ways, two strangers a world apart.

But when, moments later, she rescues him from his crashed car, the first words she utters make Ethan realise that appearances can be deceptive. His little Berber peasant is not what she seems.

Shifting effortlessly between her traditional roots in the foothills of the Atlas Mountains and her professional life as the Totally Five Star hotel doctor, Fleur is a human chameleon, able to adapt and blend into any environment. At first irritated then amused by the handsome stranger, Fleur knows the assumptions he’s made about her. As their paths cross once more at the luxurious hotel, she realises he, too, is not all he seems. This sexy Englishman holds the key to her most secret and sensual desires, dangerous yearnings she’s kept locked away for years. Now she has a choice to make.

Ethan is only in Marrakesh for a few days, then he’ll be gone and she’ll never see him again. No one will ever know, so surely it will do no harm? Can she pass up this opportunity? And once she’s trusted him with her body, experienced all he can offer, will she be able to return to her old life? Or will the sensual chameleon need to reinvent herself once again to fit into his world?

Buy Links:

You can get hold of Chameleon from wherever you prefer to buy your ebooks.

About Me

I’ve been an avid reader of fiction for many years, erotic and other genres. I still love reading, the hotter the better. But now I have a good excuse for my guilty pleasure – research.

I tend to draw on my own experience to lend colour, detail and realism to my plots and characters. An incident here, a chance remark there, a bizarre event or quirky character, any of these can spark a story idea.

When not writing – which is not very often these days - my time is divided between my role as resident taxi driver for my teenage daughter, and caring for a menagerie of dogs, rabbits, tortoises. And a very grumpy cockatiel.

I have twenty (at the last count) titles on general release, with several more in the pipeline. All my books feature BDSM. I write explicit stories, always hot, but they offer far more than just sizzling sex. I like to read about complex characters, and compelling plots, so that’s what I write too. Strong, demanding Doms are a given, often paired with new submissives who have a lot to learn.

I have a pile of story ideas still to work through, and keep thinking of new ones at the most unlikely moments, so you can expect to see a lot more from me.

I love to hear from readers. You can find me on my blog, and on the Totally Bound site. I’m on Facebook, and twitter and now on Tsu as well. I’m on Pinterest too, and Goodreads

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Tuesday Review: Blue Woman Stories Volume 1 by Cheyenne Blue

Blue Woman Stories Volume 1
By Cheyenne Blue
LadyLit Publishing 2014

Some authors write stories. Others weave spells.

Cheyenne Blue belongs to the latter contingent.

Blue Woman Stories Volume 1 gathers five of Ms. Blue’s previously published lesbian tales into a brief but breathtaking package. Each is a jewel, sparkling with the many facets of passion. Two of the stories (“What If?” and “Car Bomb”) examine complexities in established lesbian relationships. Two (“How Does Your Garden Grow?” and “Cully’s Run”) involve erotic encounters between strangers predisposed to distrust one another. The final story, possibly my favorite in the anthology, is entitled “A Tangle of Vines”. In this tale, two straight women, old friends, succumb to the sensual bounty of a lush summer in rural France:

My senses burgeoned, a combination of wine and moonlight, loam under my feet and the fresh smell of new growth, the distant tang of salt sea air. Marianne turned her head, and I saw her lips, softly parted, before she came closer, kissing me softly, on the side of my mouth then, when I didn’t resist, on the lips.

We had never done this before, she and I, never shared experimental explorations as younger women. I had gone straight to male lovers, and she, I assumed, had done the same. But over the years, the boundaries defined by gender, by sexuality, and acceptability had blurred to a faint line, and her kiss wasn’t shocking or unwelcome. It just was.

Cheyenne Blue turns the environment into a mirror that reflects her characters and their emotions. As Nell sulks in her car in “Car Bomb”, waiting for her very tardy lover Alex, rain drenches the dark world outside. Everything is chilled, dank and sodden, the women’s history of passion quenched and forgotten. “Cully’s Run” evokes Australia’s High Plains, crisp, dry, wild and fragile – a simple world ruled by the elements. The clash between the cattlewoman and the city dweller who challenges her partakes of the same wildness. Although I’ve never been to Australia, Ms. Blue managed to drop me smack in the middle of the back country in “How Does Your Garden Grow?” where wiry, independent Eve tempts a susceptible police woman into a welcome fall. I could see the rampant vegetation, hear the lorikeets, taste the raspberries.

Each of the stories in this collection stands alone. Together they’re testimony to Cheyenne Blue’s formidable talent. Blue Woman Stories demonstrates the potential of erotica to do more than merely generate arousal. These tales engage mind, heart and intellect, as well as the senses. When one of them ends, you find yourself startled and blinking, full of wonder, emerging from enchantment.

Monday, February 23, 2015

Monday Teaser: Shopping for a Billionaire's Fiancée by Julia Kent

[Who could resist this blurb? ~ Lisabet]

All of our best dates end up in the emergency room....

I planned the perfect proposal. Plenty of lobster, caviar, champagne and--her favorite--tiramisu. The perfect setting. The perfect woman. The perfect everything.

Dad gave me my late mother's engagement ring, platinum and diamonds galore. Shannon wouldn't care if I slid a giant hard-candy ring on her finger instead of a three-carat diamond designed to impress. But my future mother-in-law, Marie, will pass out when she sets eyes on that rock, which will give us two minutes of blessed silence. That woman talks more than Kim Kardashian flashes her naked backside on the internet.

I was going to make it perfect, from the color of the tablecloth to the freshness of the roses. And it was perfect.

Until Shannon swallowed the ring.

* * *

Shopping for a Billionaire's Fiancée gives near-billionaire Declan McCormick the chance to tell his story in this continuation of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Shopping for a Billionaire series.

Pre-order links:

Google Play:

Sunday, February 22, 2015

Sunday Snog #162: Mastering Maya

Congratulations to Jen, the winner in last week’s giveaway. I’ll be sending her an autographed print copy of Raw Silk.

For today’s snog, I’m sticking with the BDSM theme. Here’s a kiss from my novella Mastering Maya


Mistress Maya bears the nickname "The Ice Queen". Her precision in
administering discipline, her skill in evoking a submissive's devotion, and her unshakable self-control are legendary in the small but active Boston kink community.

From the moment newcomer Dom Shark sees Maya flogging a sub at Club Inferno, he's obsessed with her beauty and power. He'd determined to break through her defenses and bring her the same release she grants to the lucky slaves she tops. When Maya dismisses Shark as young and inexperienced, he offers her a challenge: a night together, during which he'll show her what it means to be mastered. If he fails to bring her to new heights of sensation, he agrees to become her slave.

What begins as a test of wills evolves into something deeper and more intense. As the younger man uses his insight and skill to coax Maya into submission, he comes to understand the wounded spirit hiding behind her mask of control. Can he make Maya trust him enough to surrender? Or will the flawless, untouchable dominatrix take possession of his body as well as his heart?

When you’re done with my snog, head over to Victoria’s for more Sunday kisses!


She’d expected leather, a motorcycle jacket and chaps, perhaps, or well-worn denim. Instead he wore a tuxedo, which fit his lean, muscular body like it had been custom tailored. His dark hair was slicked back from his brow and there was no sign of the bad-boy stubble he’d been sporting the night they’d met. Despite the cutting autumn wind, he was coatless.

Mistress Maya.” Her name, her title, in that deep, rough voice, melted her resistance. “May I come in?”

Please do, Master Shark.” She stood aside so that he could enter, but he paused, drinking her in with his eyes. When he raised his hand to her throat, Maya cringed despite herself. He laid a single chilly finger on the pulse point below her jaw, reading her unwilling excitement in its race. For a dozen breaths, he held her there, transfixed, as warmth seeped from her skin to his. Then he traced a line down her neck to where the caftan revealed her cleavage—but no further. Her nipples peaked into aching knots nevertheless.

You look lovely, as always.”

Thank you.” His formality confused her. The emails they’d exchanged since the Friday munch had been casual and arch, filled with sarcasm and double entendres. Stephen had suggested they handle negotiations in advance, in order to avoid breaking the mood of their encounter. Now he knew the few limits she’d been willing to identify—no gags, no choking, no unprotected penetration—and the safe word she’d chosen.

Maya led the way to her parlour, with her visitor trailing behind. His eyes wandered down her back, over the swell of her buttocks—she felt the weight of his gaze, though he never touched her. Lubrication welled from her pussy and trickled down the insides of her thighs. She wore nothing under the caftan, as he had instructed.

Stop.” She halted as suddenly as if he’d tugged on a leash. Behind her, he gathered her heavy tresses in one hand, drawing them aside to bare her neck. Chill air touched the normally protected skin, then warmth and wetness. The kiss he planted at her nape sent shivers of pleasure racing to her pussy. His other hand gripped her upper arm—the strength of that grip making her gasp—while he licked along the curve running from her hairline to her shoulder. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to bask in the sensation of liquid heat.

He pushed her loose garment off her shoulder. Was he starting so soon? Then she yelped as he sank his teeth into her deltoid.

What the fuck?” She whirled to face him. “That hurt!”

BDSM often involves some pain.” His mildness infuriated her. “But, of course, you know that. You agreed I could do as I wish, didn’t you?”

The bite throbbed in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Her clit seemed to pulse in time. “Yes, yes. I’m sorry, you startled me.” In her flats, she was six inches shorter than he. She gazed up at his face, trying to read him. The dangerous gleam she saw in his eyes sent new shivers dancing through her.

And have you changed your mind?”

Um—uh, no.”

No…?” He waited, clearly expectant, leaving her momentarily disoriented.

No, I haven’t changed my mind.” She tried to move into the parlour, but he held her fast.

No, what?”

Huh? What?” Light dawned. He was waiting for her to acknowledge his dominance. Could she do it? It had been so very long. She could barely choke out the words.

No, Sir.”

A torrent of long-denied emotion came rushing back—the delicious helplessness that came with accepting a Master. She fought against the flood, but it was too powerful, too deep. She squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the tears. He mustn’t see—mustn’t know how much that one word had cost her.

He cupped her cheek with his palm. “Are you all right, Maya? Do you want to call this off?”

No, no, I’m sorry… It’s just…”

He stroked her hair back from her forehead. “It’s okay. I understand, pet.”

Pet? Who did he think he was? He didn’t know her! She tried to focus her anger, to generate some cutting retort, but now his mouth claimed hers, and it was so marvellous she couldn’t muster the energy to fight.

Stephen sealed his firm, mobile lips to hers. His tongue poked and probed, testing her willingness to fulfil her promise of submission. She opened to his determined assault, not because she’d agreed to but because she wanted more of his sweet heat. He tasted like fresh mint, clean and sharp. His aftershave—the same scent she’d noticed in the café—somehow reminded her of summer afternoons, sun-baked grass with a hint of honey.

The kiss deepened. He snaked his arms around her, tight as the bonds he’d promised and impossibly strong. He gripped her ass, digging his fingers through the velvet and forcing her body against his. His cock was a lump of stone pressing into her belly. A hungry gulf ached between her thighs, dripping with need. The satin of his tuxedo jacket was smooth and cool under her palms as she held on to him for dear life.

He wasn’t rough, brutal or even demanding, but the ravishing kiss made his point clear. He was the one in charge.

Saturday, February 21, 2015

Why Fight It? Just Write It!

By Leah Grant (Guest Blogger)

When Lisabet contacted me with an invitation to be on her blog, I must tell you I was surprised. I'm a newbie in this writing business and didn't expect to be asked to write something for an author with such an impressive bookshelf. I have been writing since I was nine. It is only now that I have been able to pursue my dream full throttle. I write under the pen name Leah Grant and prefer to live a quiet and private existence in my personal life. I do applaud those that take the great leap and go out into the world as themselves. At some point I hope to brave the rather narrow-minded views that can follow writers of erotic romance.

Stories are always knocking at the door. Characters hanging around in my mind, taking up space. I was reading here on Lisabet's site that most writers experience a 'movie' in their head. This is also true for me. I just type away and let a story unfold itself. Sometimes I think of myself as the 'first reader' because I never really know where the story will go. The ending - well, I also have to wait until the characters let me in on it.

I have had people ask, 'how does it end?' My answer to that one is as follows: 'how would I know?' True enough, I really don't. The looks of horrified bewilderment always leave me laughing softly. For those that never write, it can be very difficult to understand that the process has an almost magical quality to it. I believe authors have a strange connection to the ether. This connection leads to the unfolding of stories and dialogue that can leave us authors stunned at the best of times. 'I can't believe he just said that to her! What an insensitive ass!' And it isn't until later that afternoon while you are in the middle of making a sandwich that you realize you've spent the entire morning harbouring anger at that character. 

We drink copious amounts of coffee to stay awake and keep telling their story because the characters just won't let up. For authors, it is that real. We live with characters as they reveal their story to us. We worry about them, get upset that they may be making poor decisions. Until a book is out there in the world, the author is like a parent fussing over their offspring, trying to ready them for what lies ahead. Then we push the story out of our nest, hoping we gave it enough to fly - to soar and call out that it is alive and free.

In my newest release - Dream of the Raven - the heroine Helen O'Connell is someone I can really identify with. She has struggled and life hasn't been kind. I really like Helen because despite everything - she keeps going. Her edges are a bit rough and you gather very quickly that since her divorce - she has lost her trust in people. Instead of running and losing even more - she stays put - trying to carve out a new life for herself. Despite being burned in her past, she takes a chance on love and finds strength she never knew she had inside. 


To end this piece, I would like to thank Lisabet for her invitation and encourage you to take a tour of her website, Lisabet's Fantasy Factory. It has some very good information, free reads, a section for authors and many characters just waiting to meet you and tell you their story. 

All the best,

About Leah

Leah Grant lives with her husband and cat on the Canadian prairies. She has published two books with Totally Bound UK: Wilde Jagd and Dream of the Raven. To Run From A King with Evernight Publishing Canada. Coming up with Totally Bound - Over The Hill and Through The Woods will be out for pre order in March 2015. She loves coffee, chocolate and a dry chardonnay. Come by her site for a read, a giggle - the adventures of Miss Fish, drunk robins, complacent deer, and spooky goings-on—you never know what you'll find. And yes, she does tend to go on about the deer. Call it a hobby... 

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