Wednesday, January 31, 2018

Book Hooks: Raw Silk -- #MFRWHooks #Thailand #Giveaway #FreeBooks

Book Hooks logo

Today is Wednesday, and for the first time in a while, I have a Book Hooks post for your enjoyment. This bit is from my very first novel Raw Silk, now in its fourth edition.

I have a special giveaway for you, too. You’ll find the details after the hook!

And at the end of the post, you'll find links to all the other authors who are "hooking" today. I hope you'll visit them and read their posts, too.


In a foreign land, a woman discovers exotic new realms of the senses.

When software engineer Kate O’Neill leaves her lover David to take a job in Thailand, she becomes sexually involved with two very different men—a handsome and debauched member of the Thai aristocracy, and the charismatic proprietor of a sex bar.

Each touches her in a different way, each teaches her different things about her body and her heart.

Then David comes to Bangkok, and Kate realizes that, finally, she must choose one of the three men who all desire her.

The Hook

But come. Let us make our way down to the quay. I have hired a converted rice barge to take us upriver. I think that you will find life along the Chao Phaya quite a contrast to this scene of royal eccentricity.”

The barge was waiting, a broad wooden craft with a central cabin and open decks at either end. A convex roof covered the whole length of the barge, shading the decks. They were met by a handsome youth with a shy smile, who helped them across the gangplank and onto the forward deck.

Then he cast off from the mooring and disappeared to the stern. Kate felt the barge vibrate as the engine started. Soon they were headed upstream, moving smoothly through the muddy water.

They lounged comfortably on the cushioned benches that lined the sides of the boat. A young woman in traditional dress appeared with refreshments—ice cold lemon juice and an array of tropical fruit. Somtow picked up a spear of pineapple, dipped it into a dish of white and red powder that sat in the middle of the fruit platter, and offered it to Kate. “This is the typical way that Thais eat fruit,” he said. “With salt and chili. I know that it may sound odd to you, but try it.”

She took a bite. The complex of sweetness, saltiness and spiciness was quite remarkable. “That’s fantastic. Like nothing I have ever tasted before. But whatever inspired the Thais to try this in the first place?”

Just our natural creativity,” said Somtow with a grin. “Or perhaps our craving for new and exciting sensations.” He leaned forward and kissed her, his taste adding to other flavors mingling on her tongue.

Buy Links

Amazon US

Barnes & Noble

Totally Bound

Birthday Giveaway

As it happens, today is not only Wednesday – it’s my birthday! So I’m giving you the presents!

I’ll give a free copy of my erotic short Singapore Fling to anyone who asks. Just leave me a comment with your email and tell me whether you want PDF, Mobi (Kindle) or Epub.

You have to leave a comment by 11:59 February 1, though!

Huge Instafreebie Giveaway!

Today (31 January) is the final day of the huge Excessica group giveaway on Instafreebie. There are more than forty books up for grabs, including a copy of my paranormal romance Damned If You Do. To claim your books, just go here: 

Other Blog Hop Links

Check out my fellow authors!  

Tuesday, January 30, 2018

Review Tuesday: Accidental Submission - #ReviewTuesday #BDSM #Revenge

Accidental Submission by Claire Thompson
Romance Unbound 2009

Accidental Submission opens in a dungeon. A Dom named Gary ferociously whips a bound and gagged submissive while ruminating on his anger towards his boss Elizabeth. He transfers that rage to his flogging, continuing to lash at the slave even after she executes the gesture they've agreed upon as a signal for him to stop. He even calls the poor woman Elizabeth.

I'll be honest. I nearly stopped reading right there. The scene set all my red lights flashing. If I had not committed myself to reviewing the book, I probably would have tossed it out, assuming (incorrectly) that this was an example of the kind of crude non-consensual smut that gets some people off.

As it turns out, that would have been a huge mistake. In fact, Claire Thompson's novel revolves around the sort of ethical, tender and romantic D/s relationship that pushes all my buttons. The individual introduced in this first scene is the villain in Ms. Thompson's saga. Passed up for a promotion to vice-president when his company decides to hire the eminently qualified Elizabeth Martin, Gary Dobbins plans a devious revenge on the woman he sees as his nemesis. Accompanying her to a company-sponsored charity function, he spikes her drink with a date rape drug and leads her to a BDSM club, where he offers her for sale at a slave auction. Handsome, wealthy dominant Cole Pearson purchases twenty-four hours of play with the gorgeous brunette, only to have her pass out on him when he gets her home.

From this point, the book focuses mostly on the relationship between Elizabeth and Cole. They are irresistibly attracted to one another, but Cole wants more than just sex or even love. He seeks a true D/s partnership with a woman who is as serious and committed to exploring the boundaries of power exchange as he is. His first marriage fell apart because he couldn't be honest about his real needs. He is determined that this is not going to happen again.

Ambitious, intelligent, and work-obsessed, Elizabeth initially seems like an unlikely submissive. However, Cole sparks her curiosity with his talk, and his demonstrations of the seductive nature of erotic power. Gradually Cole leads her deeper into submission, to the point where she agrees to spend two weeks (her long delayed vacation time) in 24/7 slave training. This is a make-or-break experiment for both protagonists. Although Cole has the typical confidence of a Dom, he really doesn't know if Elizabeth is capable of the sort of surrender he requires.

The book includes a subplot in which the evil Gary attempts to blackmail and disgrace Elizabeth, while she and Cole struggle to unmask his deceptions. For the most part, however, Ms. Thompson is concerned with the growing attraction and trust between Elizabeth and Cole. Elizabeth's work is a serious obstacle to their deepening bond. She uses it as a shield to keep Cole from getting too close, as an excuse for lateness and even disobedience. Cole's patience is tested again and again, but unlike Gary he understands that anger has no place when punishing a slave.

Accidental Submission is smoothly written and professionally edited. And of course it involves my personal favorite erotic scenario: initiation of a new submissive by a caring yet authoritative dominant. By the time I reached the chapters detailing Elizabeth's training (which are relatively hard-core BDSM, not merely a few bonds and spanks), the book was pushing my buttons and influencing my dreams.

Somehow, however, I found the end of the book less satisfying. As the two week training period nears its end, Elizabeth's resistance has melted away. She has been transformed into the willing and skillful slave of whom Cole has dreamed. The two look forward to an idyllic future together. In short, the book concludes with a happily-ever-after (except for Gary, who is subjected to a particularly appropriate revenge).

In trying to analyze why this conclusion felt like a let-down, I came up with two theories. First, it was too easy. Elizabeth is not going to abandon her work, and there are bound to be conflicts with her relationship, committed as she is. Second, although the book includes many climaxes with a lower case 'c', there is no real Climax, no single transcendent interaction that pushes the D/s connection to a higher level. A collaring, a branding, some ritual in which Cole seriously took possession of Elizabeth, would have helped. After the emotional intensity of the earlier parts of the book, the ending was surprisingly bland.

I debated for a long time how to rate this book. Starting the book with the villain's scene was, I think, a mistake on Ms. Thompson's part. Readers with tastes similar to mine will be turned off and not continue. Ending the book with a ho-hum HEA also detracts from what, overall, is an arousing and competently written BDSM tale. However, I ultimately recognized that very few erotic books manage to engage my personal fantasies the way Accidental Submission managed to do for much of its length. For this accomplishment, the book deserves a thumbs-up.

Monday, January 29, 2018

Fueled by Lust: Altair by @Celeste_Prater #SciFi #Erotic #Giveaway

altair cover


Ah, my lovely sisters of fate,” Altair Battaglia whispered softly to the shimmering Insedivertus sky. “What future do you have in store for this humble servant? I await your sign with bated breath.” A calm mission to destroy a nasty drug czar would be nice. But then again, when is anything ever easy? Especially when a set of wide green eyes and red-stained luscious lips has this seasoned warrior oblivious to everything around him…even her lethal Glock-19 hovering inches from his chin.

Fierce, determined, and carrying a burden heavy enough to make a weaker person weep in defeat, Makenna Dunn never thought life would ever cut her a break. How could she have even imagined a mysterious stranger interrupting her deadly goal might flip her world upside down and thaw her frozen heart?

Fast paced and screaming hot, Book 11 in the FBL Series yet again tugs your heart, tingles your senses, and leaves you panting for more. Get ready!


Angeli,” he growled against her damp hair smelling of vanilla and alluring female. “I’m honored at your trust.”

Just shut up and kiss me before I start thinking too hard.”

Puffy moist lips crashed into his own. He moaned with enthusiasm at her aggressiveness, opened his mouth, and sucked her tongue inside. They dueled for supremacy, causing his dick to push even harder against unforgiving jeans. Her need was raw, thrilling, and matching his own. She clung to him, fingers digging into his shoulders and egging him on with her groans of elated approval.

Around and around he turned, lost to the sensations of finally experiencing a full, uninterrupted kiss from his female. He was hopelessly lost to her presence—bumping into tables, knocking over a chair, and grunting as he slammed into yet another wall. He broke for air, hauled in a lungful of her delicious scent, and fought to do something his mind was totally against happening. He set her down.

Altair tore at his shirt, uncaring of the ripping fabric. He wanted it off. She’s too far away, his befuddled mind screamed. He cried out at the exquisite sensation of her fumbling with his belt, knuckles bumping against his belly. She clawed at his zipper, finally released it, and shoved the jeans to his thighs.

Oh my God,” she mumbled.

Buy Link

Fueled By Lust: Altair – Released exclusively on 1/24/2016 at and available at major retailers in 4-6 weeks.

About the Author

Author of the award winning, bestselling series FUELED BY LUST and THREE DIVISIONS trilogy, Celeste has received countless praises for her unique writing style, ability to create memorable characters and mesmerizing worlds for the reader to romp, dream, and drool. Action, suspense, mystery, and sizzling hot, loveable hunks continue to bring on “Top Picks,” “Best Book,” “Book of the Month,” and “Reader’s Choice Favorite” accolades. Her decidedly favorite professional review comment from Long and Short Reviews, “Book one caught my attention, book two had me hooked and asking for more, book three caused my addiction, and book four fed my habit. Now I’m left sitting here hoping for more, like a junkie strung out on alien men,” has gleefully kept her nose to the keyboard and sharing with the world the Fueled By Lust Insedi Warriors and the lucky females who snag them.

Buy Links for All Books:

Celeste loves to engage with her readers. You can find her here:

*Series best read in sequence

Get the series introduction at a steal for only $3.99

Fueled By Lust Collection: Volume 1
Books 1-4

Available now at and major retailers

This isn’t thin reading, either folks!

Over 330,000 words of face fanning, sizzling hot erotic romance, action, mystery, and suspense to sink your teeth.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Sunday, January 28, 2018

Sizzling Sunday: The Witches of Gloucester #lesfic #paranormal #SizzlingSunday

Sizzling Sunday banner

Happy Sizzling Sunday!

It has been a while since I shared anything from my FF stories, so I thought I’d remedy that today. Here’s a luscious excerpt from my sexy FFF paranormal novella The Witches of Gloucester.


It’s not about power. It’s about love.

The historic port of Gloucester, Massachusetts has a special charm, due at least in part to its resident witches. For decades, raven-maned Marguerite and red-headed Beryl have lived among its hard-working inhabitants, making magic and mischief. Love and sex fuel their supernatural abilities, but duality limits their power. To reach their full potential, they need a third witch to complete their circle.

Rejected as a nymphomaniac by her puritanical boyfriend, Emmeline escapes to Gloucester to work on her PhD thesis. From the moment she arrives, Marguerite and Beryl sense her erotic vitality and unrecognized paranormal talent. The platinum-haired beauty may well be the enchantress they have been awaiting for so long. Now they need to show Em that her prodigious libido is a gift, not a liability, and to persuade her that her destiny lies in the sea-girt town they guard, and in their arms.

Marguerite gathered Emmeline into her arms as the girl burst into ragged tears.

Hush now.” The raven-haired woman combed her jewel-encircled fingers through Emmy’s platinum locks. “Don’t be afraid.” Warm lips branded Emmy’s brow. A supple tongue flicked out to gather the tears from Emmeline’s cheeks. Through wine-colored velvet, Marguerite’s ample bosom, simultaneously soft and firm, pillowed her own more modest breasts. A whiff of cinnamon tickled her nose, followed by the musky aroma of female arousal.

Emmeline’s already swollen nipples pulsed like the lighthouse off Bass Rocks. A wave of liquid need swept through her, cresting and breaking between her thighs.

Oh...oh, please...” Marguerite’s fierce kiss swallowed her moan. A snake-like tongue wriggled into Emmy’s mouth, brazen and seductive. Emmeline yielded, swooning with the heat of that kiss, until needle-sharp teeth nipped the plumpness of her lower lip.

Hey! Aah...” Her yelp became a groan of need as the tiny pain kindled new fires in her hungry pussy.

Ssh. Just relax, love.” That was Beryl’s voice, smooth, hypnotic, matching the delicate brush of fingertips along her shoulders and down her arms. “Let us pleasure you the way you deserve.” Seduced by the redhead’s quiet dominance, Emmeline obeyed. She closed her eyes, letting the rising tide of her own lust drown the last shreds of fear.

In the sweet darkness, every sensation grew more acute. Marguerite deepened the kiss, sucking Emmy’s tongue into her mouth, while Beryl stroked Emmy’s back, belly and thighs. The wandering hands barely touched Emmeline’s body but everywhere they traveled, delicious heat followed.

Sparks danced along Em’s naked skin in the wake of Beryl’s fingers. Naked? When had she removed her clothing? Her eyes fluttered open. Shadows hung in the opulent room, shaped by candles that flickered on the mantel. It was nearly midsummer. How could the night have come so quickly?

Embarrassment, wonder and need warred within her. Arousal coursed through her body in shimmering waves, so intense it was almost pain. She found herself splayed nude upon the carpet, arms flung out and erect nipples pointing at the ceiling. Her knees were bent, her thighs spread wide in lewd invitation. Moisture seeped from her exposed cleft, dampening the silky nap of the rug beneath her.

Beryl knelt in the gap between Em’s legs, equally naked, her porcelain-pale skin gleaming in the dimness. Candlelight struck glints from her coppery crown. Emmeline couldn’t help staring at the matching tangle hiding the woman’s sex. She ached to part that auburn curtain and taste the moist flesh it concealed.

The older woman grinned. Mischief glittered in her emerald eyes. “Time enough for that later, girl. The first climax must be yours. Trust us. We won’t harm you. We just want to teach you who you are.”

Buy Links

LadyLit Publishing

Amazon US:

Amazon UK:




Saturday, January 27, 2018

The Accidental Sex Writer -- #Threesome #Giveaway #WritersBlock

Three Days cover French

By Cynthia W. Gentry (Guest Blogger)

I’d like to tell you that my road to publication was the result of some magic formula of craft, persistence, and tolerance for rejection. And it was all of those. But it was also the result of a the relationships I’d built with other authors, my network, and luck.

I didn’t set out to become a writer of erotica and erotic romance, although the Barbie-doll nudist camps I staged as a child might suggest otherwise. It is true that I’ve been a writer for as along as I can remember. When I was nine years old, I made my first book by hand for some long-forgotten class project: I fashioned the covers out of cardboard and colored paper and printed out each story painstakingly by hand, and then bound the whole thing together with green yarn.

The stories themselves were populated not with the fairy princesses you might expect from a little girl growing up in conservative Southern California in the late 1960s, but with ghosts and talking animals. One story that proved of particular interest to my future therapists starred a lion cub whose mother told her that if she roared too loudly, no lion would ever want to marry her. (At the end of the story, she roars anyway, and saves everyone. Huh.)

In 1973, the Richard Lester version of “The Three Musketeers” hit the movie theaters. My best friend Dana and I promptly became obsessed with 17th century France, and stumbled upon the Angelique series of novels by Anne Golon. Dana and I spent long afternoons alternately devouring what was known at the time as “bodice-rippers” books and writing long, romantic tales starring ourselves as the heroines. How did two virginal drama geeks deal with sex? We’d end the scenes with our heroine and hero falling into each other’s arms, and then primly cut away.

Ending Writer’s Block—With Erotica

Flash forward. I went to college and got a degree in English, taking several creative writing classes, and then went off to graduate school for journalism. I pushed my dreams of fiction writing to one side as I focused on making a living wage. I dabbled in screenwriting, and rehashed old short—mostly autobiographical—from my college days.

But sometime in my late 20s, around the middle of my first, too-early marriage, I got the world’s worst case of writer’s block. My desire to write disappeared, along, I might add, with my libido. It turns out that ongoing resentment is not an aphrodisiac.

My libido—although not my marriage—was saved when I discovered erotica. I don’t know what made me pick up Ana├»s Nin’s Little Birds. All I know is that when I read those stories, I felt desire again, and one night, I sat down and started typing out one of my racier fantasies—a threesome that featured phone sex, a male hooker, light bondage and a New York hotel room.

Three thousand words later, I’d written “Just Friends,” and my so-called writer’s block was gone.

I sent “Just Friends” to a few magazines, and got a few rejections. I showed it to a few friends. But mostly, it stayed on my computer. Meanwhile, I got divorced. I started a graduate program in creative writing. I kept writing stories, and I started a novel that featured a lot of comically bad sex gleaned from my experiences of being newly single.

Here’s where that network of writers comes in.

Writing 24 Stories in 4 Months

One day I received an email a woman with whom I’d been in a writing group. She was working for an East Coast publisher. An author had approached them with a proposal for a book on tantric sex—a topic that I knew nothing about. The book, Red Hot Tantra, would use short stories to illustrate the author’s how-to instruction. They felt the author, a man, needed a female voice for the stories. “You write erotica, don’t you?” she asked. “Are you interested?” Yes, and of course, I answered.

Suddenly, I found myself signed up to write 24 short erotic stories in about four months—despite the fact that it often took me four months to write one story, let alone 24.

I soon discovered the dirty secret of writing about sex: most of the time, it isn’t that sexy. I camped out at my local cafe, brow furrowed, face occasionally buried in my hands. I didn’t sit there heaving and blushing and sighing as my fingers pecked away at the keyboard. I spent a lot of time staring into space, puzzling over how to describe a particularly athletic sexual position. But I didn’t have the time to fret over every word, and that kept writer’s block at bay. With the deadline looming, I just had to get words on the page.

How did I describe my characters’ intimate acts without sounding either hopelessly corny or disgustingly explicit? I tried to create believable characters, characters I liked, characters with personality and quirks and issues and fears and hopes. I tried to get inside their heads, whether I was writing about the 60ish couple discovering the fun of spanking, the single guy trying to get over his ex-girlfriend, or the young woman experiencing her first orgasm.

It’s an approach I still use when writing about sex. I try to avoid metaphors in favor of clear, straightforward description with lots of sensory detail. There’s a difference between explicit and specific. Explicit gives you a laundry list of body parts and acts. Specific takes you there, so you’re in the room.

Red Hot Tantra led to more nonfiction books on sex with the same publisher: The Bedside Orgasm Book (renamed Mindblowing Orgasms Every Day), What Men Really Want in Bed, Secret Seductions, and What Women Really Want in Bed. But I still held on to my dream of writing fiction.

So what happened to that first erotic story, “Just Friends”? As it turned out, my editor for Red Hot Tantra went on to launch a website for erotic romance. I sent “Just Friends” to her, and in 2008, a decade after I’d written it, she published it. She also asked me if I thought I could develop it into a novel. “Yes!” I answered, thrilled.

Little did I know that it would take me another eight years to do it, in between raising a child and a series of corporate jobs. It wasn’t until I got laid off, and Holly gave me a serious deadline, that I finally hunkered down and finished the book that became Three Days.

In one of those weird twists of publishing, the French rights to Three Days sold first, and Bragelonne/Milady published it in April 2016. We’re still trying to sell the English rights, and I’m trying not to get discouraged. In the meantime, I’m working on the sequel: Three Months.

I hope you enjoyed the story of my path to publication. I would love to hear from you!

Excerpt from Three Days

The story: On a trip to New York, Claire's boyfriend Trey makes one of her wildest sexual fantasies come true with the help of a male escort named Rich. Back home in San Francisco, Claire can't stop thinking about Rich, who's awakened her secret desire to be sexually dominated. When Rich shows up in San Francisco, he draws Claire and Trey into a sensual journey that tests Claire's limits over three erotic days.

The following excerpt is from the first chapter of Three Days. You can read the entire chapter FREE (and pick up some pretty awesome pleasure products and jewelry) on the website UNBOUND.

* * *

I lead them in to the suites living area. Trey rolls his eyes toward the bedroom and grins. I feel my face getting warm as I reach past him to pull the door shut.

The mini-bar is that way,” I tell them. I stick with tequila. Rich and Trey pour themselves scotch from tiny bottles. I try not to think about the bill. I’m suddenly very thirsty, and Rich goes to get ice. While he’s gone, Trey sits down on an armchair and stretches his legs out on the ottoman.

Come here,” he says. I squeeze into the chair with him. He looks into my eyes. “It’s good to travel with you. Every time we do, I’m reminded of what a hottie you are. Don’t make that face. You are. I see how guys look at you.”

Huh. I see more women looking at you.”

There’s a long pause. My mind is suddenly blank.

Kiss me,” he says.

My heart begins pounding. This is ridiculous. I know this guy like the back of my hand. “No tongue. Rich will be back any second.”

Sure. No tongue.”

I tilt my head up and let him kiss me. At first he keeps his lips closed. Then his tongue slips between my lips. The heady, peaty fragrance of scotch fills my mouth.

You said no tongue,” I say, but I don’t pull my head away.

I lied,” he answers, and keeps going. I’d forgotten what a good kisser he is. Then I hear the click of the lock and the door. Rich.

I pull away from Trey, embarrassed. “Sorry, Rich.” But Trey doesn’t let me go and Rich only smiles.

Don’t worry about it. It looked like fun.” He pours me a glass of water, which he sets on the coffee table. He sits down on the ottoman, near our feet.

It is fun,” Trey says. “She’s a good kisser.” He turns to me. “Rich broke up with his girlfriend recently.” If this is calculated to get my sympathy, it works.

Oh God,” I say. “Then you don’t need to watch us kissing.” I try again to pull away, but Trey doesn’t break his grip.

Yes, I do,” Rich says.

At times like these, there comes a moment when we make decisions. To decide whether to stay with what is familiar and tell ourselves that we are being good, or to go with the unknown. And though I don’t consciously know it, it’s at this moment that I’ve chosen the latter.

There’s only one problem,” I hear Rich say. Trey and I are kissing deeply now. He has pulled me closer to him. I’m letting him stroke my back, my ass. At Rich’s words, we stop and look at him.

Im sitting here thinking how much Id like to be kissing those beautiful lips myself.His words are catnip to me. Im already wet between my legs, now I feel my lower lips fill with warmth, soften and open. My heart thuds in my chest. Cant they hear it? I pull away from Trey and sit at the edge of the chair.

This man is a source, the fast-receding professional part of my mind tells me. Or is he? There’s something going on that I don’t quite understand.

I look at Trey. I have a feeling he’s on his way to being drunk. And so was I, but now I feel stone-cold sober.

Go for it,” he whispers, his voice husky. “Kiss him.”

I picture myself as supremely benevolent, the Queen of Kisses, bestowing them out of charity and goodwill. I take Rich’s face between my hands and lean forward. My lips meet his and I’ve made another decision.

I start to really kiss him, my tongue searching out his, but he says, “Wait. Slow down.” He puts a hand on my cheek and kisses me gently with his lips closed, and then again. With each new kiss, he begins to slip his tongue a little further between my lips. We begin kissing deeply, his tongue playing with mine. Finally, I pull away.

There,” I say. “How was that? Do you feel more included now?”

He smiles. “Trey is right. You are a good kisser. I’d like to kiss you again.”

Don’t stop on my account,” Trey says. “Claire knows that I like to watch.”

I do? He does? I push the thought away. We shift our positions so that I’m sitting on the edge of the chair with my back toward him, his legs on either side of me. He puts his hands on my hips.

One more,” I say to Rich, telling myself that that will be the end of it, but I know I’m wrong. As I kiss Rich, Trey leans forward and slides his hands under my shirt, playing with my breasts. I feel him nuzzle my neck, my ear. He unhooks my bra and gently rubs my nipples. Then he slides one hand down my stomach into my pants. I freeze.

Are you okay, babe?” Trey whispers in my ear.

I stare into Rich’s eyes. They are warm and earnest.

For a split second no one moves. Then I put my lips to Rich’s again. Trey’s hand continues its explorations down my pants, under the waistband of my underwear. But because of the jeans it can’t get much farther than that. I shift my hips almost involuntarily, trying to give him access. His other hand leaves my breast and unfastens the buttons of my jeans. He slides his hand back down and discovers the wetness between my legs. I hear his intake of breath and I moan as he caresses my clit. Meanwhile, Rich continues kissing me. My mind is so full of sensations that I can’t think.

Again, I pull away from Rich and lean back into Trey, whose hand is deep inside my wetness. Rich takes off my shoes. He reaches for my jeans.

We should stop,” I say, but have no will to make that happen. They have to

Is that what you want?” Rich asks me. “To stop?”

Buy Three Days


The English-language print and e-book rights to Three Days are still available. Please contact Holly Schmidt or Linda Biagi for more information.

Contest: Win the Sexy Seductions Card Deck!

With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, the Sexy Seductions Card Deck makes a perfect gift. It contains 50 exciting sexual adventures for you and your partner. Visit my website and join my mailing list by January 31 (you can always unsubscribe later), and I’ll select one lucky reader to receive a card deck! Visit to join my mailing list and enter the contest.

Author Bio

In addition to her fiction, Cynthia W. Gentry has written several nonfiction books on sex and relationships, including What Men Really Want in Bed: The Surprising Facts Men Wish Women Knew About Sex (Quiver) and its sequel What Women Really Want in Bed (Quiver). Both books have been translated into several languages.

She’s also the author of Secret Seductions: 62 Naughty Nights, Lusty Liaisons and Sexy Surprises (Quiver) and Mind-Blowing Orgasms Every Day: 365 Wild and Wicked Ways to Revitalize Your Sex Life (Quiver). Secret Seductions is also available as the Sexy Seductions mini book and as The Sexy Seductions Card Deck. She was the co-author, with David Ramsdale, of Red Hot Tantra: Erotic Secrets of Red Tantra for Intimate, Soul-to-Soul Sex and Ecstatic, Enlightened Orgasms (Fair Winds Press), for which she wrote the erotica.

Cynthia has been interviewed by magazines like Glamour and Cosmopolitan for articles on sex and relationships. Her fiction and journalism has appeared in Area i, The Montserrat Review and Reed Magazine, as well as magazines such as budget savvy. She has also covered film festivals for and has written for the Literary Arts section of

Cynthia has a master's degree in journalism from the University of California at Berkeley, where she was the recipient of the Edna Kinard Prize, the Alfred & Ruth Thompson Perassolo Scholarship and a Regent's Fellowship. She graduated with departmental honors from Stanford University with a Bachelor of Arts degree in English.

Her website is