Thursday, November 30, 2017

The one man she shouldn't crave - The Craving by @TinaDonahue #pnr #TheWanderers #LooseId

The Craving cover

She’s everything he’s desired… He’s the one man she shouldn’t crave.

Knowing the danger the Wanderers pose, Erica Vega intends to hunt down the mysterious group steeped in dark magic, curses and mind control. As a Deputy U.S. Marshal she has the law behind her, along with her telekinetic powers. Let the chase and battle begin.

Not so fast. Her superior forbids her to go after any Wanderer, instead ordering her to work cold cases with her new partner Lucian Navari.

Tall, dark and hotter than sin, Lucian doesn’t play by the book. He has his own agenda and agrees to help Erica hunt Wanderers on the sly where he and she can be up close and personal.

Erica’s not one to mix duty with pleasure, but he’s impossible to resist in too damn many ways. As they investigate an elusive Wanderer, nothing is as it appears – she can’t trust what she sees or believes. Lies masquerade as truth, deception rules while she and Lucian grow closer in a carnal dance that will change their lives.


Faint pounding filled Erica’s bedroom.

Sounded like a heartbeat. Not hers, though.

What in the fuck is that?

Good sense told her to jump out of bed, Glock in hand, and fire at whoever made the noise.

She couldn’t move. Didn’t want to.

On some level, she understood this was a dream. About what?

Lucian. Lights from the neighbors’ backyards bled past her blinds, slanting across his handsome face. He crossed the room, undressing as he did. His shirt fluttered to the floor. His shoes and belt buckle clunked, slacks rustled.

Naked, he stood to her side and looked down at her.

Her heart turned over. She weakened as she never had.

Several locks had tumbled over his forehead. She longed to ease them back and kiss his silky eyebrows.

Passion hooded his eyes and had thickened his cock. It jutted from his thick pelt to point her way.

He was showing off. A pleased sigh rushed from her. Flooded with outrageous desire, she had an intolerable need to end her solitude. She hadn’t realized until now how lonely she was. How eager to have him in her bed and within her pussy.

He pulled the top sheet off her. It floated to her feet.

He grinned hard enough to make dimples.

She laughed at how cute he looked. Like a little boy opening a Christmas present, excited as all get-out.

Proving he was a man with pressing needs, he unfolded himself over her, their hips joined, his shaft nuzzled against her cunt, her breasts crushed by his chest. He cupped her face, held her still, and claimed her mouth.

The world spun.

His lips were warmer than she’d dreamed possible, his taste fresh and sweet. She wreathed her arms around his shoulders to keep him close, wanting to drown in his heat and scent.

He thrust his tongue between her lips.

She welcomed the intimate assault. With a slave’s devotion, she sucked him, mingling their flavors, creating a new one belonging to them alone.

He ground against her.

She wrapped her legs around his lean hips and pumped, mimicking a hard fuck.

His growl said he liked that.

He tore his mouth from hers, eased back, and plunged his cock within her pussy, stretching, owning, taming her for his use.

Allowing it, she squeezed her channel to intensify the friction between them.

He gave her a lusty smile, swooped down, and captured her mouth, tempting her with his desire, fueling her own.

She never wanted this to end.


About Tina

Tina is an Amazon and international bestselling novelist who writes passionate romance for every taste – ‘heat with heart’ – for traditional publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. Three of her erotic novels were Readers' Choice Award winners. Another three were named finalists in the EPIC competition. One of her erotic contemporary romances was chosen Book of the Year at the French review site Blue Moon reviews. The Golden Nib Award at Miz Love Loves Books was created specifically for one of her erotic romances. Two of her titles received an Award of Merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competition. Another two won second place in the NEC RWA contest (different years). Tina is featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production company in Story Direction.

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Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Misteltoe Kisses - #Christmas #kisses #holidayromance


Is it Christmas season already? Time once again for holiday romance? Where did the year go?

I received my first French kiss in front of a Christmas tree, from the man who would later become my first lover. I can recall the scene surprisingly well. I was fourteen, staying with my aunt over the holidays. Although she was born Jewish and at time was a disciple of an Indian guru, she had for some reason set up a tree in the living room. I remember that the twinkle of the lights twining through the branches was the only illumination. The moment has a silvery glow in my recollection. P. encircled me with his arms and pulled me against his chest, while planting his lips firmly on mine. I had no idea how to react.

Then suddenly his tongue was in my mouth. The intimacy of that sensation shocked me. I guess I knew about French kisses, academically speaking, but the reality was like nothing I'd imagined. I felt excited and scared and very confused, not knowing what to do exactly, but really, really wanting to get it right. He held me there, exploring me, for what seemed like hours. Afterward, in my room, I was so high I thought I'd float right off the bed. He wanted me - me, shy and awkward as I was, with my heavy-framed glasses, plump thighs and frizzy hair... As for P., he was as beautiful as an angel, pale as snow, with hair like spun gold and sea-blue eyes. And he smelled so good... that's one thing I remember, incense and sweat and peppermint from the candy canes we'd been eating, strange, male, but so delicious...

Once I had dredged up that memory, my thoughts turned to other kisses, midnight kisses as the old year slipped away and kisses under the mistletoe.

I found myself curious about the mistletoe kissing tradition. Mistletoe, it turns out, has had spiritual or magical significance for millenia. It is associated with the divine male essence, hence potency and virility (possibly because the waxy white berries resemble drops of semen). The plant is also entangled in a resurrection myth.

An old Norse tale recounts the birth of the god Baldur, son of Frigga and Odin, the king of the gods. A prophecy regarding Baldur's premature death led Frigga to extract a promise from every plant and animal on earth, that they would never harm her son. Somehow, however, she omitted the mistletoe plant and when Baldur reached glorious manhood, Loki tricked Baldur's blind brother into slaying him with an arrow fashioned from mistletoe. Baldur was dragged into the underworld, but like Osiris and Persephone, was brought back to life by the efforts of a loving woman (in this case his mother).

After Baldur's resurrection, Frigga declared mistletoe to be thenceforth the plant of peace. None of this, of course, explains why mistletoe has become a license to kiss, although the links with the solstice season are clear. Mistletoe is evergreen, symbolizing everlasting life. Pre-Christian cultures associate midwinter with the death and rebirth of the sun. These themes continue to echo in the Christmas story itself.

Apparently American author Washington Irving wrote about the mistletoe kiss tradition as early as 1820. This suggests that it has been practiced for a good deal longer. Most of the sources I found pointed to Scandinavia as the original source of the custom.

However they originated, kisses under the mistletoe retain a sense of mischievous transgression. It doesn't matter who you are, how old you are, to whom you're married. If someone catches you beneath that sprig of emerald leaves and snowy berries, you must submit to his or her kiss. To resist is considered to bring terrible luck. And who knows what you'll discover, mouth to mouth, breath to breath? The potent magic of the Druid's sacred plant might lead to ecstasy - or even love.

I'll leave you with a literary kiss under the mistletoe, from my MMF holiday tale Almost Home.

The kiss caught her off guard.

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

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

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

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

Tuesday, November 28, 2017

Review Tuesday: Rescuing Prince Charming by Edward Hoornaert - #ReviewTuesday #Scifi #alternativehistory

Rescuing Prince Charming cover
Rescuing Prince Charming by Edward Hoornaert
ISBN: 9781370661985
December 2017

Desdemona Johnson, or Dusty as she prefers, is no heroine. She’s a mere tech writer, just one of the hundreds of humans and Kwadrans laboring in the caverns of the Wiki, with the dream of creating Earth’s first interstellar spacecraft. So what’s she doing searching the evacuated underground corridors for a saboteur’s bomb? And who is the mysterious, gorgeous Kwadran who turns up to help? The rush of emotion from their near-fatal adventure pushes them into one another’s arms, a very uncharacteristic move for the introverted, highly rational Desdemona—one she hopes she won’t regret. That hope is quickly dashed when she learns that her companion in saving the ship from destruction is Prince Reese Eaglesbrood, disgraced younger brother of the Kwadran king and new leader of the spaceship endeavor.

Reese Eaglesbrood has led a life of scandal since his people plucked their island from an alternative universe, whisked it through the void and landed it off the west coast of twentieth century America. His appointment to oversee the development of the Fraidy Cat prototype offers him the chance to redeem himself in his brother’s eyes. He’s determined to root out the saboteurs plaguing the project and bring the effort to a successful completion. However, his intense attraction to Dusty seriously complicates that mission.

Rescuing Prince Charming is a science fiction romance that solidly satisfies the criteria of both genres. The Kwadrans are descended from Pacific Northwest Native Americans. Mr. Hoornaert does a fabulous job bringing their culture to life, complete with language, art, architecture, technology and oceanic metaphors (e.g. “splashing the orca’s tail” is a euphemism for casual sex). The Kwadrans are friendly aliens, for the most part, but that doesn’t stop both humans and Kwadrans from holding prejudices, which significantly complicate their relationships. I’ve always preferred scifi that focuses on the social implications of future changes; this book definitely falls into that category.

Meanwhile, Dusty and Reese are obviously made for one another, despite the barriers of race and social status. Though the book does not contain any explicit scenes, the powerful connection between them is both emotional and physical. I loved both characters, especially Dusty, whose intellectual curiosity and quick wits make her a true heroine despite her beliefs that she’s ordinary.

The novel kicks off with a literal bang, and the fast pace continues throughout. Mr. Hoornaert’s writing is dynamic, crisp and clever. For instance:

Where was Reese? Where?

Footsteps thumped. A fist smacked flesh. Another gunshot, followed by the tinkling of broken glass.

She wobbled to hands and knees, determined to rescue Reese even if it cost her her life.

Dinna shoot!” whined Sir George. The sir title must be a lie, she thought groggily. Surely no real Scottish peer would say dinna.

She struggled to her feet. Hair blocked her vision. When she pushed it aside, her hand came away drenched in blood. She hated blood, especially her own—but she ignored it. No time. She tried to assume a martial arts crouch, but her head whirled, and she slumped weakly onto a bench, instead.

It took a while to realize there were no more shouts or gunshots. The battle was over.

And the good guys had won.

Finally, of course, there’s the Siamese cat. I would have adored this book even without Priscilla, but she’s the icing on the cakeas well as being central to the plot.

Rescuing Prince Charming is hugely entertaining and highly recommended. I haven’t read a romance I enjoyed so much in a long time.

Note: I received an ARC of this book from the author. The novel will be released on December 4, 2017.

Monday, November 27, 2017

Rush Hour Comes to The Road Less Traveled - #scifi #lesfic #giveaway

By Sacchi Green

I wonder sometimes whether I switched from science fiction and fantasy to erotica just because the competition looked sparser way back then, making my chances of selling my stories seemed better. Or was it mostly because I really wanted to write about sex? Most of my speculative fiction stories had more or less subtle sexual subtexts.

Discovering back then that I got paid more for the erotica was a factor, too. I’ve never exactly given up on writing sf/f, especially fantasy, but my writing time and focus have been spent almost entirely on erotica, especially lesbian erotica, for the last eighteen years. From that perspective I can say that erotica is no longer the road less traveled, no longer pays more, and in spite of its many talented writers gets even less respect than genres like science fiction and fantasy. Much less.

In the science fiction community there has always been grumbling about readers and critics who insist that sf/f is all rocketships and/or elves, so if they like a book, it must not be sf/f after all, however science fictional its theme may be. With erotica, readers—or rather non-readers of the genre—dismiss anything categorized that way with terms like Plot-What-Plot. I was going to say they use cruder terms, but those seem usually to be assumed to go without saying. If they accidentally read some well-written sexually-driven stories with fully-developed characters and intriguing story arcs, well, those are exceptions, not really what erotica is like.

Okay, I’m ranting here, based on what I’ve seen and read and heard readers say, the kinds of readers who actually buy books. I’m probably overstating the situation. But recently I’ve been wondering whether having my stories and anthologies tagged as erotica is preventing them from being read by people who might actually enjoy them in spite of sex scenes, or who might notice that sexual interactions can be as revealing of character as any other encounters. On the other hand, not including the term “erotica” in their titles would make it even harder for them to attract any attention at all, and I draw the line at calling them “erotic romance,” even though some of the stories could qualify for that description.

This train of thought has been triggered by my anthology that came out last May, Witches, Princesses and Women at Arms; Erotic Lesbian Fairy Tales. I had wanted for years to edit a book with this theme, and finally succeeded in persuading my major publisher that it was good idea. The contributors to the anthology are outstanding writers, with stories equal or superior to what might be found in a high-profile fantasy anthology, with the added advantage (or disadvantage) of including sex as a driving force of the plots. It’s doing pretty well, but I have a feeling that it would get more of the attention it deserves if “Erotic” hadn’t been included in the title.

I had the odd experience lately of being on a committee to reassess the descriptions of categories in an organization’s awards program, and being told that they had a very hard time getting judges for the erotica category. Nobody wanted to read it. That didn’t really surprise me, but I was startled to see that their current description for erotica pretty much went along with the “Plot-What-Plot” line of thought, and my books wouldn’t seem to qualify, although I’ve won an award there four times already. No, this isn’t the biggest award-giving organization, but still notable in lesbian fiction. So maybe my anthologies aren’t erotica after all, but so far I’ve been able to get away with it, and no reviewers, at least, have ever complained about not enough erotic content in them. 

In the case of my fairy tale anthology (which does not, as it happens, include any traditional fairies) I suppose I just want, undeservedly, to have it both ways, fantasy and erotica. I was a fan of speculative fiction as a teenager, and always thought that someday I’d be writing in that field. That “someday” came relatively late in life, on a relatively low level, but at the time there was a burgeoning of markets for sf/f short stories, with new small presses and magazines springing up, and I managed to get a fairly respectable amount of my work published. But there were more and more aspiring writers, too, in those days when the use of computers and word programs was becoming widespread.

Yes, I wrote my first few manuscripts on a lowly typewriter, and had to submit them by land mail, along with stamped self-addressed envelopes if I wanted them returned, or stamped self-addressed postcards if I just wanted notices of acceptance or rejection. All of this uphill in six feet of snow, or so it seemed. On an increasingly crowded road. (Oh, wait, then the snow would be packed down. Bad metaphor. Never mind.)

But then I discovered erotica. I didn’t intend to abandon sf/f, just to dabble in this other genre that didn’t seem as crowded, and did seem to have room for a writer who’d already learned the principles of writing actual stories instead of slapdash vignettes. I came across a call for submissions for a newish series called Best Lesbian Erotica, thought I’d give it a try, and had an actual phone call from the editor accepting my story and saying how “different” it was from anything else she’d seen. I’d been right about sf/f being good training for erotica. I might try more of this type of thing!

In fact, erotica seduced me. Seventeen years later I found myself editing the 20th anniversary edition of Best Lesbian Erotica, after editing fifteen different anthologies, only two of them sf/f. Now my second BLE (now titled Best Lesbian Erotica of the Year Volume 2) has just come out, and I’m reading submissions for a third. The world of publishing has changed cataclysmically, though, and for various reasons the erotica field has been flooded with so many books and stories of varying length, quality, cover images (generally lurid) and prices (generally cheap) that what I’d consider the really good ones have hard time getting seen. Writing erotica is now far from being a road less traveled, making it harder for any individual work to get anywhere. Then, of course, there’s the whole pirating situation, but I won’t get into that quagmire here.

Instead, let’s get back to my beloved erotic fairy tale book. Instead of excerpts from the stories, I’ll share my introduction, as a more compact way to give you an overall impression. At least I hope so.

Witches, Princesses and Women at Arms: Introduction

How often have you tried to envision “he” as “she” when you’re reading fairy tales? Those flights of imagination can sweep you up into worlds of magic and sensual delights—or would, if only so many heroes winning the day (and, of course, the girl) didn’t get in the way. Do you long for heroines who win each other?

I do, so in this anthology I wanted erotic romance and wild adventure with women who use their wits and/or weapons and come together in a blaze of passion. These wonderful writers gave me all I hoped for, and even more. Some adapted traditional tales, and some updated old stories to contemporary times, not merely changing the gender of a character but making the female aspect essential. Some created original plots with a fairy tale sensibility, while some wrote with merely a subtle aura of fantasy. Their heroines are witches, princesses, brave, resourceful women of all walks of life, and even a troll and a dryad. There are curses and spells, battles and intrigue, elements of magic and explorations of universal themes, and, yes, sex, sensuality and true love, all bound skillfully together into complex and many-layered stories.

Royalty or a miller’s daughter, a woman warrior passing as a man, a sorceress in flowing robes, even a window inspector dangling in harness on a high-rise building—who better to rescue a long-haired captive in a tower?—all of them are made so real that you long to touch them, and be touched. The relationships are intense, sometimes quick to ignite, sometimes all the hotter for restraint that flares at last into a fierce blaze.

In all my years of editing anthologies, I’ve never read so many submissions that were beautifully written and just what I’d asked for. And I’ve never had so much trouble choosing which to use to fill the finite space in this book. I can only hope that readers will get as much pleasure from these stories as I did, and that Witches, Princesses and Women at Arms turns out to be, to quote a certain beloved film with a unique take on fantasy traditions, exactly, “As you wish.”

Sacchi Green

Note: I don’t know how long it will last, or who decides these things, but right now there’s a temporary sale on the ebook version of this anthology, so on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc., you can get it for $1.99.

Also, I’ll give away an ebook copy in Mobi, Epub, or PDF to a name drawn at random from the comments on this post.

Sacchi Green (, is a Lambda Awardwinning writer and editor of erotica and other stimulating genres. Her stories have appeared in scores of publications, including eight volumes of Best Lesbian Erotica, four of Best Womens Erotica, and four of Best Lesbian Romance. In recent years shes taken to wielding the editorial whip, editing fourteen lesbian erotica anthologies, most recently Wild Girls, Wild Nights, Me and My Boi, Best Lesbian Erotica of the Year 20th Anniversary Edition, Witches, Princesses and Women at Arm, and Best Lesbian Erotica of the Year Volume 2, most of them from Cleis Press. Sacchi lives in the Five College area of western Massachusetts and makes occasional forays into the real world, usually for readings in places like NYC. She also posts on alternate Mondays on Oh Get a Grip, a group website for ten erotica writers with plenty to say.