Monday, May 20, 2019

Holy Con - #suspense #FeistyLawyers #Cult @SeelieKay

Cult cover
By Seelie Kay (Guest Blogger)

When I was in my teens, I learned that a relative I had never known and in fact, no one had ever talked about, was alive.

So I began to ask questions. And I got no answers. Until one day, someone let it slip that the man in question might be in a certain town in Canada.

Then I got busy. Because this was before the Internet and cheap long-distance phone calls, I wrote a letter to the public library in the town of his last known residence. Then I waited. And waited. And waited.

Summer came and I became an intern at the local newspaper. I had forgotten about the letter. One day, my older sister showed up at work, bearing a large manila envelope. She said breathlessly, “I got the mail and grabbed this before anyone else saw it.”

I quickly told my editor I was going to lunch and we walked to a local park. After bologna and American cheese sandwiches, I opened the envelope. It was stuffed full of news clippings. The librarian had attached a note explaining that the relative had passed the prior year, but she was sending information she thought would be of interest.

I pulled out the first article and read the headline. I must have paled because my sister grabbed it out of my hand.

Holy cow,” she said. “He was a con man?”

I retrieved the article from her hands and began to read. The relative in question had founded a notorious religious cult and defrauded “his flock” of millions of dollars. When a local newspaper exposed him as a fraud, he skedaddled with those millions, leaving many people homeless and destitute.

He had called himself “The Living Christ,” a title his adoring fans accepted without question. They worshipped at his feet. Gave testimony to miracles witnessed. Catered to his every need. And, it was suggested, sacrificed their daughters’ virginity for his lessons in the sacred sexual arts.

I was eighteen. I had no training or experience to interpret or analyze this information. So I went to my father. He showed it to my mother. Who burned it.

It was then I learned the whole story. This relative had not only abandoned his family when the oldest of his children was four, he had embarked on a life of crime. With nothing more than a sixth-grade education and a childhood spent on a tenant farm, he had crafted and successfully executed cons that brought him into contact with the pillars of society—the rich, the famous, the delightfully debauched. Highly intelligent, wickedly handsome, and sincerely charming, he spun tales that left people entranced and enthralled.

With each tale, sometimes posing as a minister, sometimes as a practitioner of the psychological arts, he picked their pockets and when discovery became imminent, skipped town, moving on to another city filled with suckers who had more money than sense.

His skill at his persuasion and his knowledge of all things religion led him to establish his own church, one that grew to more than a thousand members. He had no divinity degree. No religious education. All he had was a silver tongue and the ability to relieve people of their cash.

As a journalist, I continually asked myself, “Why? Why did people fall for his obvious crappola? Was it the times—after World War II, a world weary of war and terrified by the emergence of the Iron Curtain? Was it the need to fit in, be accepted by others? Or was it the need to believe in something, anything, that barely resembled common sense?”

Forty years later, after extensive research and gaining access to information so confidential it would not be released to the public for many years, I still had no answers. Until someone said to me, “Some people just go along to get along. Makes no sense, but it does make them happy. And sometimes, that’s all that matters.”

And that was the beginning of my latest suspense novel, Cult.


Release Date: May 17, 2019
Publisher: Extasy Books
Romantic Suspense, three flames


It’s supposed to be a simple assignment. A quick trip to a South American country for an “in and out” fact-finding mission. Unfortunately, the cult has other ideas.

When college students begin disappearing from American campuses, a notorious cult, God’s Delight, is the primary suspect. God’s Delight has been hosting shows featuring sex, drugs, and rock and roll around the country, and young people are flocking to them.

Among the missing is the President’s goddaughter, and he wants answers. When he asks Agent Cade Matthews, a member of a secret covert organization, to find her, the mission appears fairly straightforward. Find the God’s Delight compound, determine whether a welfare check on American cult members is warranted, and get out. Simple. Clean. Easy.

Cade sends newly-married Agents Dianna Murphy and Anders Mark to the University of Wisconsin to follow the trail to God’s Delight, but when they wind up in Bolivia, things go sideways. Suddenly, what appeared to be nothing more than a simple in-and-out could cost Dianna her life. When an Agency extraction is ordered, chaos erupts, and the question becomes, will anyone survive?

But everyone can leave when they want, right?”

Tillie cocked her eyebrow, clearly amused. “Of course. But why would they? This is paradise.”

It is indeed, darling Miranda,” drawled a deep sultry voice. A tall, well-built man dressed in a white cassock, a thick wooden cross draped around his neck, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek. His loose, long blonde hair framed a tan, handsome face with a strong nose and a wicked, full-lipped grin. He turned his piercing blue eyes toward Dianna and smiled. “Hello,” he said.

The man studied her, his expression predatory.

Dianna shifted uncomfortably. So, Tillie is using another name. Meaning she’s undercover. Noted. Dianna stuck out her hand and said. “Hi, I’m Bennie. I’m one of the students from Wisconsin working over at the orphanage. You were kind enough to allow us to stay here.”

The man took her hand and stroked it, his expression suddenly thoughtful. “Tell me, Bennie from Wisconsin, what do you think of my paradise?” His hand moved to her lower arm.

Dianna flushed. My paradise? Is this Reverend John? “It’s beautiful. Peaceful. But hot. And humid. Really humid.” She gazed up into the man’s eyes, somewhat stunned at the lust she found there. My God, he looks like he wants to devour me. Dianna quickly looked away.

The man chuckled. “You get used to it. But we keep the air-conditioning on in the dormitories for the newbies and limit their time in the sun. And of course, we all take a siesta during the hottest part of the day if we need one.” He released her arm.
We worship at day’s end when the air begins to cool. Otherwise, things get a little…sweaty.” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, gently tugging her hair. Then he walked away. Dianna’s gaze did not leave him as children followed him, playfully competing for his attention. Just like Jesus.

Buy Links

Coming soon to all other major booksellers!

About Seelie Kay

Seelie Kay is a nom de plume for a writer, editor, and author with more than 30 years of experience in law, journalism, marketing, and public relations. When she writes about love and lust in the legal world, something kinky is bound to happen! In possession of a wicked pen and an overly inquisitive mind, Ms. Kay is the author of multiple works of fiction, including the Kinky Briefs series, the Feisty Lawyers series, The Garage Dweller, A Touchdown to Remember, The President’s Wife, and The President’s Daughter.

When not spinning her kinky tales, Ms. Kay ghostwrites nonfiction for lawyers and other professionals. She resides in a bucolic exurb outside Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where she shares a home with her son and enjoys opera, gourmet cooking, organic gardening, and an occasional bottle of red wine.

Ms. Kay is an MS warrior and ruthlessly battles the disease on a daily basis. Her message to those diagnosed with MS: Never give up. You define MS, it does not define you!

Author Links

Twitter: @SeelieKay

Sunday, May 19, 2019

Sizzling Sunday: The Gazillionaire and the Virgin - #FreeBook #BDSMEroticRomance #SizzlingSunday

Sizzling Sunday banner

Another Sizzling Sunday – already! I’ve got a brand new, never-before-shared excerpt from The Gazillionaire and the Virgin.

About the Book

Trust can’t be bought—it has to be earned.

When Silicon Valley entrepreneur Rachel Zelinsky meets reclusive genius Theo Moore, she finds him strangely compelling. Theo is both arrogant and socially awkward, but he has an aura of power that speaks to Rachel’s carefully-hidden submissive side. Disturbed and aroused, she tries to focus on her original objective—a deal to incorporate his Artificial Intelligence software into her company’s popular virtual world. Rachel’s not a woman who lets pleasure interfere with business, but for some reason, she can’t resist Theo’s geeky appeal.

Theo Moore can’t be bought. His past battles with poverty make him deeply suspicious of the billionaire CEO. Still, with her voluptuous curves and brilliant mind, Rachel embodies his ultimate sexual fantasy. Too bad his knowledge about sex derives from extensive research and a stash of kinky porn rather than real-world experience.

That doesn’t bother Rachel, however. In his bed—in his arms—in his bonds—she discovers the bliss of total surrender. Rachel may be Theo’s first lover, but Theo is Rachel’s first true Master—and the first man to truly touch her heart. It seems that love may harmonize their differing goals and values, until Rachel’s unwitting violation of Theo’s trust threatens to tear them apart forever.


Home Depot is bustling at noon on a bright California Sunday. Theo parks in the most sparsely occupied part of the lot, a long way from the door. I don’t chide him. I know he finds this difficult.

Once more I take his arm—partly to reassure him, partly to keep him from trying to escape. Together we wander through the cavernous store, dodging DIY dads with pallets of construction materials and their hordes of rowdy children. Theo cringes when they cross his path. I pull him closer, pressing his arm against the side of my breast.

We halt in the middle of an aisle. The rack in front of us holds a dozen industrial-sized reels of different kinds of rope.

Here we are, Theo.” I keep my voice even and matter of fact, but my heart is going like a jackhammer and my pussy is awash. “What type of rope do you recommend?”

Uh… Rachel, do you mean…?” He searches my face, perhaps trying to determine if I’m serious. “I—um—we—”

Theo, dear. You find sexual bondage exciting, right? You like the idea of tying women up.”

He stares at his athletic shoes, silent with shame.

I hurtle onwards. It’s too late to stop now. “Given your intelligence, I assume you’ve studied the question of what sort of rope is most appropriate. I’d like you to share your knowledge. Which rope should we buy?”

What?” His head whips up and his hair tumbles into his eyes. “What are you saying, Rachel?”

I can’t tell if his expression shows shock or arousal. Maybe both. I swallow my own nervousness. “I want to buy some rope, so that you can tie me up. Unless you already have supplies at home, of course. Don’t want to waste money. Do you already have the rope we need?”

No, no—Rachel—no—I’ve never tied anyone up.”

But you want to, don’t you?” I lower my voice to a near-whisper. “You’d love to bind me tight, so that I can’t move, then fuck me hard. Isn’t that true, Theo?”

We’re in the middle of a crowded home improvement store, surrounded by oblivious vanilla families planning to remodel a bathroom or build a deck. I don’t care. I wrap my arms around his solid frame and pull him against me, rubbing my breasts against his torso. His massive erection prods my belly.

Theo squirms against me. “God, Rachel—you’re going to make me come…”

Good.” On tiptoe, I flick my tongue over his earlobe then murmur, “I want you to come, inside me. After you’ve trussed me up like the girls in your magazines…”

He surprises me with a hard, wet kiss, right there in the aisle where anyone could see. Meanwhile his hands slide up the backs of my bare thighs, under the starched shirt of his that I’m wearing as a dress, which reaches almost to my knees. My suit was in no condition to appear in public without a thorough cleaning. Of course I don’t have any panties, either—I hadn’t planned to stay with Theo, hadn’t planned any of this, in fact. So unlike me!

I shudder, feeling exposed and vulnerable, when he cups my rear cheeks in his big palms. He parts them, just enough to allow one long finger to slip from behind into my drenched cleft.

My knees buckle but he holds me fast, tight against his chest, still probing my mouth with his tongue while his fingers dabble in my pussy. Real fear flashes through me—what if someone recognizes me, here in the heart of Silicon Valley? —then vanishes as he presses a damp thumb against the pucker of my anus.

God, he wouldn’t! Would he?

While I have your attention, I want to remind you that I’m giving away a copy of this book as part of Connie Brete’s May Romance Giveaway. To enter, go to:

Scroll down to the Rafflecopter at the end.

If you don’t feel lucky – or don’t want to wait – you can buy the book here:

Kinky Literature

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Barnes & Noble




Google Books


Saturday, May 18, 2019

Survival is all Slade understands... #MMRomance #rentboy #SinCityUniforms @MorticiaKnight

Copping an Attitude teaser

Survival is all Slade understands until Parker saves him from the terrors of the streets. Too bad the streets won’t let Slade go…

Hustler Slade has had little choice over his fate. Barely twenty years old, he’s had to survive any way he can after being thrown out for being gay when he was still in his teens. As soon as he hit Vegas, Slade was lured into the hopeless world of prostitution where he’s become a virtual prisoner to his pimp, the ruthless Julio Estevez.

It’s another typical night on the Strip when officer Parker comes across Slade. His heart breaks every time he sees someone so young being exploited. Yet something in Slade’s eyes tells Parker the young man might be in real trouble—especially after the recent wave of sex worker killings by a rival prostitution ring.

The two men’s lives become intertwined when Slade is almost beaten to death. The danger grows, but so does the relationship between Parker and Slade. Parker helps Slade to heal from the horrific attack and their bond deepens. But the human traffickers are still on the prowl—and they’ll stop at nothing to steal Slade back.

Publisher Note: This book has been revised and expanded from the original edition that was published under the same title at Totally Bound Publishing in January of 2015.

Buy Links

Pride Publishing:

First for Romance:


Valeena!” Slade banged on the motel room door. “Please, Valeena, let me in!”

The flimsy door flew open. A large, enraged black man with his pants undone towered over Slade.

What the fuck do you want? Huh? I’ll be done with her ass in five then you can have at it. In the meantime, shut. The fuck. Up.”

He slammed the door with brute force, the windows rattling in response. Slade glanced around nervously. The cops would be looking for him. They could be anywhere. He crouched down behind one of the bushes up against the seedy motel. The dump was right off the Strip and was the place they always used to take their dates. Julio rented five rooms by the week and number six was Valeena’s.

After a short while, Valeena’s trick left and Slade waited until he drove away before coming out from behind the plants. He was just about to knock again when the door flung open. Valeena’s eyes went wide at the sight of Slade’s raised arms, the cuffs holding them together at the wrists.

Oh shit. Did a john do that to you?”

He pushed past her, anxious to get inside to what suddenly seemed like sanctuary.

No. Cops. Close the door.” His voice was shaky, adrenaline still pumping through him.

She did as he asked then shut the light off before peeking through the curtains.

Fuck, Slade. Do you think they followed you?”

I don’t think so.”

She turned to him in the darkness, the glow from the lights outside seeping in beneath the ratty curtains.

Are you sure? Because if you’re not, I’m hauling my narrow ass out of the bathroom window.”

Um, pretty sure. I kneed the cop who had me really good.”

Valeena burst into musical peals of laughter. “Oh, man, why do I always miss the good stuff? I woulda loved to have seen that.”

Slade allowed himself a lopsided smile. “Any chance we can get these things off me?” He held up his imprisoned hands, shaking them.

She padded over to the nightstand then turned the lamp back on. “I can’t.” She scrunched her eyebrows together. “But I bet Samson can.”

Samson was a client of Valeena’s, one of her regulars. He ran a questionable business that seemed to involve the need for opening a lot of locks that didn’t have keys. Slade had never questioned her much further than that. She fished around in the drawer of the nightstand that was filled with condoms, lube, lipstick, loose bills and other assorted items until she pulled out her burner phone.

After plopping on the bed and yanking her short silky robe around her, she tapped the screen. Holding the cell to her ear, she winked at Slade.

Don’t worry. Now sit down. You’re making me nervous.”

He perched on the only chair in the room, his stomach still twisting, his nerves still frayed. As soon as Samson picked up, she babbled excitedly to him, obviously softening him up before she hit him with a favor. He’d never heard her talk with such enthusiasm to a client before—she was much better at acting with the tricks than he was.

While he waited for her to get to the point with Samson, he ran everything that had happened with the cop through his mind. A new emotion surfaced from inside him—one he’d thought had been effectively tamped down.

He felt bad. Guilty. He knew he shouldn’t—his survival had been at stake. But it really had seemed as if the cop cared. There’d been something about him that had come across as decent and kind. Not like the asshole cops or almost every other person he’d met in the past few years—along with his own so-called family. Only Valeena had ever been there for him.

Slade tuned back into her conversation, but her voice had dropped lower and she was angled away from him. It was like she was…cooing or something.


Staring down at the silver bracelets locked on his wrists, he recalled how the cop had been so worried he might have hurt Slade, how he’d cuffed him in the front so he wouldn’t add to the pain. His only real pain had been from Harold’s bruises, but he’d used it to his advantage. Once he’d been restrained from the front instead of the back, it had been that much easier to get away.

He squirmed in the chair. It wasn’t his fault. He’d had no choice but to strike out at the cop to get away—the man hadn’t listened to him. Slade couldn’t allow his thoughts to run any further away than that. One of the worst things he or any of the other sex workers could do was allow themselves to wish for something more, something real. His world and relationships had to remain fake no matter what, or else the pain of longing could destroy him.

But if I were ever to have someone to love…

There it was again. Those damn stinging tears. There’d been far too many times recently where they’d threatened to take over. It was pointless to think that a hot guy who led a respectable life would want anything to do with a throwaway like Slade.

Friday, May 17, 2019

Kangaroos Hopping by my Window - #Pioneers #Australia #HistoricalRomance


Image by Holger Detje from Pixabay

By Margaret Tanner (Guest Blogger)

I thought I’d share my personal experience being a pioneer...

My husband and I recently spent two days at Halls Gap in the Grampians, (Victoria) which is a climber’s paradise. Steep rocky cliffs overhanging thickly treed valleys. Mile upon mile of brooding bushland, silent except for the occasional bird call. One could easily get lost here, and perhaps, as happened in the pioneering days, if you ventured in too far, you would never be seen again. It still looks like an untamed wilderness even now, except for a couple of small hamlets. I could almost visualise the pioneers hacking their way through the heavily treed countryside. The terrain was steep and unforgiving. In some places a fall meant certain death.

I have to confess, we stayed in a cabin, which you could barely discern from the road, as it blended into the background so well. Morning and evening, kangaroos hopped by our window, so close you could almost have leaned out and touched them.

The cabin had all the modern conveniences EXCEPT the heating was an enormous open fire. Hubby and I looked at each other, who was going to light the fire? Thank goodness there was a basket of kindling and a pile of neatly stacked logs. Wielding an axe was beyond us, our pioneering blood was just too dilated, not to mention the arthritis, bad back etc.

I am very proud of the fact that I do come from a pioneering family. One family member landed in Melbourne in 1836, but most of my ancestors arrived in Victoria in the 1850’s, and took up farming. So, they certainly would have had to fight for survival in an untamed wilderness. On my husband’s maternal side, his family were pioneers in the Blackwood area.

So, we did have the correct pedigree one might say.

Well, back to Halls Gap. I was very pleased to have lit the fire at my first attempt. I wondered if I might not have been a boy scout in a previous life, or perhaps my pioneering blood wasn’t quite as diluted as I had thought.

It was truly an amazing feeling toasting our toes in front of this roaring fire, watching the logs burn, and smelling the wood smoke. It brought back a lot of childhood memories of staying with my grandmother and various aunts in the country. They not only had open fires for warmth but they also had wood stoves for cooking. And boy, could they ever cook.

I can remember once in suburban Melbourne, when I was about five years old, the electricity went off for hours. Luckily, we still had an open fire in the lounge room, (rarely used, but that’s another story) anyway, dad lit the fire and toasted bread over the open flames for us.

As I am a published Australian Historical and Western Romance author, this experience made me feel quite close to my heroines as they supported the hero, fighting for survival in the wilderness.

His Brother’s Wife

Accused of a crime he did not commit in the American West, William McIntyre flees to his brother’s isolated farm in Australia.

He meets his sister-in-law Mattie, who leads a life of servitude under the iron fist of his cruel identical twin, Wilbur.

When Wilbur is accidentally killed, William takes on his brother’s identity to save both himself and Mattie from being accused of murder.

Will their desperate plan succeed, and can love flourish under such dire circumstances?

Margaret’s Links:

Wednesday, May 15, 2019

Erotica from the Edge -- #ChemSexv2 #aphrodisiac #sexandchocolate #Giveaway @RiaRestrepo

Chemical [se]X teaser

By Ria Restrepo (Guest Blogger)

From my earliest sexual fantasies, I've always been aroused by edgier erotic scenarios that some would consider taboo. I won't go into specifics—primarily for privacy reasons—but most are not unusual for a sexual submissive. There's an inherent power dynamic in certain forbidden relationships and situations I find highly titillating. Since I write what excites me and want to be a successfully published writer, I sometimes need to walk a very fine line between illicitness and what's acceptable.

In my story "Restitution," which appears in Best Women's Erotica of the Year, Volume 1, I danced in a grey area concerning the idea of coercion. The pop star protagonist finds herself in a compromising situation and submits to some rather unorthodox punishment.

At first blush, it might appear like a form of non-consent, but by the end, it's clear that things aren't as they seem. Throughout the story, it's obvious that the protagonist enjoys what happens and is entirely willing despite the circumstances. However, it was definitely borderline inappropriate with regards to consent.

One of my other favorite erotic tropes involves relationships between older men and younger woman. I've always been attracted to older men, primarily because of the intrinsic air of dominance they possess. Maturity, knowledge, control, and experience can be incredibly arousing—as far as I'm concerned, anyway.

My story "Elevator Confidential," which was just released in Chemical [se]X 2: Just One More, features a quasi-taboo erotic encounter between an older man and a much younger woman. Not only is there a twenty-year age difference, but the protagonist, Jackie, has also known Walden, the object of her secret desires, since childhood. To make the situation even more complicated, Walden is the best friend and business partner of Jackie's father.

Walden's father-figure-like status in Jackie's life might make some people uncomfortable, but I've always found forbidden scenarios like this intensely hot. Much like Jackie, I'm a long-suffering good girl who gets off on being bad. Truth be told, there is a lot of me in Jackie. "Elevator Confidential" contains some of my favorite erotic themes.

Jackie is the aggressor in this story, taking full advantage of a serendipitous event with the help of some naughty-shaped chocolates containing a powerful aphrodisiac. The erotic chocolates connect all the stories in the anthology, which was originally inspired by a brilliantly wicked story by Oleander Plume that launched the first volume of Chemical [se]X.

Despite the tangible chemistry between them, Walden displays a steely restraint in the face of Jackie's provocative seduction attempts. A scintillating battle of wills ensues that tests Walden's resolve to keep their relationship above reproach. Regardless of his seeming position of power, at no point does Walden take advantage of Jackie. Actually, it could be argued that the opposite is true.

The following excerpt demonstrates just one moment Jackie entices Walden to shed his inhibitions and throw caution to the wind. In this particular instance, she actually does it unintentionally—at first.

Even as hungry as she was, chocolates that fine were to be savored, not scarfed like M&M's. She brought one of the tiny cocks to her mouth and filled her lungs with the enticing aroma. Unable to wait any longer, she sunk her teeth into the hard, outer shell—only to be surprised when filling spurted out. Giggling, she used her free hand to capture a runaway stream of sticky sweetness before it dripped off her chin and ruined her favorite red silk blouse.

Jackie admired the wicked brilliance of filling naughty chocolates with white cream. Before any more of it oozed out, she put the rest of the morsel in her mouth, but let it dissolve on her tongue. Her taste buds exploded with the flavor of bitter chocolate and a sweet, minty confection that had a trace of something else. She didn't recognize the unknown ingredient, but it was definitely intriguing.

Humming with pleasure, she licked and sucked her messy fingers clean until every drop was consumed. "They're delicious, but messy."

When Jackie looked up at Walden, she froze at his heavy-lidded expression. If he looked hungry before, he looked positively ravenous now.

"You did that on purpose."

She knew what he meant. As much as she'd love to take credit for teasing him, she was innocent in this instance. Still, Jackie was smart enough to seize an opportunity when she saw one.

To read what happens next, you'll have to buy Chemical [se]X 2: Just One More!

I love pushing boundaries and testing my limits—both in life and in my writing—so I'm sure there will be plenty more erotica from the edge in my future. What salacious frontiers I might explore next, I can't say. Everyone will just have to wait and see.

Buy Links



About the Author

Ria Restrepo may appear to be a mild-mannered bookworm who drinks too much coffee and spends most days tapping away on her computer. But beneath the quiet exterior lurks a filthy-minded sex kitten with a lurid and lascivious imagination. Writing erotica, romance, and all the shades in between, she truly enjoys entertaining readers with stories about strong women exploring and celebrating their desires—especially when they involve dominant men with a sensitive side.


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