Sunday, January 31, 2021

My Erotic Encounter with a Ghost -- #Inspiration #GhostLover #FreeReading @EvaWestAuthor

The Healer cover

By Eva West (Guest Blogger)

My erotica journey began with a ghost.

A few years ago, I left my family for the weekend to cozy up in a historic inn on the coast of Northern California. This building had once been the town’s hospital, something hard to ignore with the wide hallways, ramps instead of stairs, and the eery basement/game room I was given a tour of. They had filled corners and wall space with Victorian furniture and black and white photos of what the town used to be. It was a comfortable space, with an undertone of historical darkness.

I was there to finish my novel. I sat at the table in my room with wine, chocolate, and 80,000 words on my computer. Eventually, I had to call it a night. I slipped into the clean sheets of the bed tucked into a recess in the wall, and passed out.

My dreams that night were sexy and seductive, a man wooing me with skill and desire. I awoke with his name on my lips.

Calling out to him is what woke me, though I don’t remember his name. I lay in the bed, slightly stunned and feeling as if I was not alone in that room. I didn’t stay there long. My goal was to finish the novel that weekend, so I hopped up, got dressed, and went out for a quick breakfast.

When I came back to the room, that energy was still there, as if I was walking into someone else’s space. I knew I was staying in a “haunted” building. The stories were on the internet, and I had had my own brief experience, easily brushed off, a year before. This, though, felt real.

I sat at the table in front of the window to write. My attention could not stay focused on the book. I fumbled through pages of notes and outlines and started reading through various scenes. However, my eyes kept turning to the bed as if I was expecting someone to be there.

Finally, I gave up. I opened a new document and set my fingers free. There I wrote my first erotica scene. In 18th century England, a lustful woman is ill in bed when a stranger, a man she has seen in her dreams, comes to her as the ‘healer’ and brings her to an exhausting climax.

I typed fast, flooded with images, the intensity building within me. I turned periodically towards the bed, desperate to finish so I could take care of the growing heat in myself. Finally, the scene ended, and I retreated to the bed for my own release. It was a powerful one, aided by the image of the man from my dream.

When I stood up from the bed, the energy in the room had dissipated. I was alone.

This scene eventually became part of my first erotic romance novella, The Healer. It took me a few years to give it the time it deserved. Since then, I have built up a backlog of stories that I am now fleshing out.

I’ve been a writer most of my life. Taking this turn into erotica is an exciting experience that tests my writing craft skills in various ways. The subtleties of language are almost as important here as they are in poetry. The build-up to climax is crucial for a well-told story.

I’m at the beginning of my erotica journey, but I expect it to be a long one. I hope you’ll follow along with me.

Here is an excerpt from The Healer:

With these visions forcefully feeding the ache between her legs, she went to her bed and threw back the covers. This agitation would not leave until she handled it herself. She slid the robe off her shoulders, enjoying the whisper of silk along her skin, and imagined callused hands caressing with a gentleness born of desire. She crawled seductively onto the bed and flopped onto her pillow, one arm raised in acquiescence above her. The other hand slowly trailed along her skin, cupping the roundness of her breast, fingers sliding to grasp her nipple and tug with the assuredness of one who knows how this pleases.

She could feel the wetness between her thighs and thought longingly of a bearded stranger’s face rasping along her tender skin. Her hips swayed with the longing as her fingers rubbed and pulled on her nipple. She would prolong this, torture her own body with desire until her bud begged to be touched, throbbing with need.

Her eyes closed to the ecstasy as her hands explored her breasts. She knew why men loved to touch them. They were soft and full and round, and she enjoyed their touch as well.

Suddenly her skin sizzled with fingerprints of heat. There was a hand on her thigh, a smooth and seeking hand moving slowly towards her wetness. She flung her eyes open, and there, there was the bearded stranger from her dream. Dark hair pulled back in a loose braid framed an angular face with a nose akin to an old Roman statue. Piercing green eyes looked upon her with such genuine desire she could not think beyond the heat of his hand.

I am the healer. I was sent for.” He rasped gently as his hand moved slowly, but assuredly, toward her most sacred opening. They were silent for a moment. “Shall I try a different method, or is this to your liking?”

She knew this was not a dream, though the absurdity of the situation was not lost on her. There were no appropriate, formulating thoughts. Her body screamed for this.

You may continue,” was all she could whisper.

A smile slid across his face; his eyes half-closed in satisfaction as his hands found their mark. A warm, strong finger pushed into her open flesh. She squeezed in sudden ecstasy, wanting to draw him in more. Never had a man’s touch reached her so deeply, so intensely.

She rocked her body towards him, trying to draw more of him in. He chuckled then, a deep, resonant sound full of desire and satisfaction. She moved to the rhythm of his hand. Together they found a steady pace that quickly began to crescendo. She could feel the ache growing, the swelling of the flesh between her legs, and thought for a moment she would swoon.

The stranger slowed his pace and put a gentle hand on her belly to still her, removing wet, confident fingers from her. She looked at him, dazed, fighting a whimper that arose. He would bring her this far and leave her unsatisfied? As if reading her thoughts, he bent and kissed her knee.


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Saturday, January 30, 2021

Charity Sunday: For the next generation of Afghani women -- #CharitySunday #FemaleEducation #BirthdayPresents @solaafghanistan

Charity Sunday Banner

Welcome to the first Charity Sunday in 2021!

My charity today is one that I only recently encountered: The School of Leadership Afghanistan. In a country where a young woman can be murdered for trying to go to school, SOLA has a special mission: to educate a new generation of young women who will be equipped with the skills – and the courage – to help solve Afghanistan’s problems and guide it to a brighter future. 

SOLA was founded by a dynamic young woman who came of age during the Taliban period. She masqueraded as a boy in order to attend school. Later she attended Middlebury College, which is how I happened to learn about SOLA. A close friend of mine who lives in Vermont met Shabana Basij-Rasikh at a talk at that university; my friend is now a volunteer tutor for SOLA.

I am truly inspired by SOLA’s story. Check out their website and I believe you will be, too.

As usual for Charity Sunday, I will donate two dollars to SOLA for each comment I receive on this post.

However, there’s more. Today is also my birthday. So I am giving every person who leaves a comment a free book, your choice of three short story collections.


Burn, Baby: A Sapphic Six Pack (lesbian erotica/romance)


 Fourth World: Erotic Tales of Monsters, Myths and Magic (dark paranormal erotica/romance)


 Hearts & Handcuffs: Romantic Kink

Just tell me which book you want, and PLEASE be sure to include an email address (obfuscated is fine) so I can find you. I’ll send you a PDF unless you indicate you want epub or mobi.

Meanwhile for my excerpt, I’ve got the starting bit from “The First Stone”, one of the stories in Burn, Baby. This tale, originally published in Cheyenne Blue’s anthology Forbidden Fruit: Tales of Unwise Lesbian Desire, is about the relationship between a nun in a women’s shelter and an ex-junkie hooker.



You're kinda pretty, for a nun.”

The voice was low and throaty, laced with echoes of the ghetto. It dragged me away from the columns of figures marching down the screen in front of me, out of the well-ordered realm of accounting and into the messiness of our inmates' lives. Our guests, I corrected myself. Nobody was forced to stay at Serenity House.

Um — excuse me? Can I help you?”

My interlocutor grinned at me. Her plump, mauve-painted lips framed teeth that were a shocking white in her ebony face. She shook her head. Cheap, brassy earrings dangled from her fleshy lobes, swinging back and forth over her bare shoulders.

Just wanted to say hi. Oh, an' to ask if I can stay out past curfew tonight. Heard you were in charge.” She extended a hand tipped with hot pink fingernails. “I'm Magnolia. Me and Moonbeam just got here yesterday.”

November in Boston, two weeks before Thanksgiving, but Magnolia's skin felt August-hot. The woman's breasts almost overflowed the sequined tube top that constrained them. Below, she wore baggy sweatpants with a Celtics logo that didn't hide her more than ample curves. Her feet were crammed into open-toed high heels of scuffed gold-toned plastic. She towered over me. I felt pretty sure that would be true even if I were standing.

Moonbeam?” Confronted by this apparition, I couldn't seem to manage more than a couple of words.

My kid.” Magnolia indicated a diminutive toddler with kinky pigtails, sprawled on the floor of the common room, surrounded by alphabet blocks. Hard to believe that delicate child was the offspring of this Amazon.

Ah — um — well, you're very welcome here, Magnolia. We're glad to have you with us.” I struggled for the warm yet professional manner I'd learned to adopt with our guests. Rising from my chair, I gave her hand a firm squeeze before relinquishing it. My skin tingled in the aftermath. I'd been right; she stood half a head taller than my five feet six inches, and probably weighed nearly twice what I did. “Have a seat, please. I'm Sister Kathleen Patrick, the assistant director. But I guess you know that.”

She settled her bottom into the chair I'd indicated. “Yeah, the other gals told me. Pleased to meet you, Sister.” Her plucked eyebrows knotted into a frown. “That what I should call you? I ain't had much experience with nuns.”

Her obvious concern made me chuckle. “'Sister' would be fine. Or you can just call me Kathleen. We don't stand on ceremony here at Serenity House.”

Not like at Baystate Rehab. You forget to call one of the nurses 'Miz' or 'Mister', you lose privs for twenty-four hours.” She swiped the back of her hand across her brown forehead, which was beaded with sweat. The woman must have a furnace inside.

There was something lush and tropical about Magnolia. Her name fit her. She seemed totally out of place in this shabby office lit by the unrelenting gray of the late autumn sky. I could imagine her wrapped in a rainbow-hued sarong, dancing barefoot on a beach beneath swaying palms. Or swimming naked through the waves under a golden moon...

I hauled my thoughts back to the present. “Is that where you've just come from?” Not all our guests had substance abuse problems, but it was pretty common.

Escaped is more like it.” She giggled. “This place's like heaven after Bayhab. Six fucking weeks — oh, sorry, Sister — I mean, six long weeks in that hellhole! Away from my baby, too. 'Course, I deserved it. All the junk I pumped into my veins, not thinkin' about who'd care for her if something happened to me. Then the OD — I really fucked up. Oh, I'm sorry, Sister!”

Never mind. So you've made yourself comfortable, then? You're happy with your room?” Yesterday had been my day off. Rachel must have done the intake. I reminded myself to check Magnolia's file after she'd left the office.

It's great. I'm sharing with Lou-Ellen and her little boy. He's only a couple months older than Moonbeam. Food's good, too.” She flashed me another grin and glanced down at her generous body. “Not that I need it!”

Her laughter kindled mine. Our eyes met. Hers were espresso-brown, practically black, fringed with mascara-augmented lashes. They snagged me like magnets.

Something jolted through me — a lightning strike, a sudden storm, some personal earthquake. The floor dropped out from under my chair and I found myself suspended in space. My breath caught in my throat and perspiration soaked the armpits of my gray wool sweater. I'd been chilly before — we tried to stretch our donor's generosity as far as possible — but now I burned. I couldn't tear myself away from her gaze, though I knew I'd been staring far too long.

Are you okay, Sister?” Her husky voice, barely louder than a whisper, wound its way into my stunned consciousness. Her hand hovered above mine, threatening a gesture of comfort.

Don't touch me, I pleaded silently. Don't. I pulled back, abruptly enough that I probably seemed impolite, and folded my hands in my lap, a safe distance from the smooth, dark glow of her skin. An almost forgotten ache woke in my belly. The tips of my breasts tingled under my shapeless garments.

Ah — oh, um — sorry. I — um — just felt a bit faint. Most likely it's low blood sugar. I have problems with that sometimes.” I fumbled in my desk drawer and found a couple of lemon drops. “These help. Do you want one?”

I shouldn't,” Magnolia replied. But she popped it into her mouth anyway, her lips pursed into a tight O around the candy.

Don’t forget to leave a comment with your choice of book, and your email! And I hope you’ll visit the other authors participating in today’s event.

Thursday, January 28, 2021

Stories in Paint -- #Inspiration #EroticStories #JackVettriano

The Singing Butler by Jack Vettriano

I’m sure you’ve seen the image above. Certainly I had, but until a few days ago I didn’t really know anything about Jack Vettriano, the artist who created it. I’ve always liked the painting, though. Beneath its light-hearted quirkiness, one senses an enigma. Who are the couple dancing? Why are they on the beach? What do the maid and the “butler” of the title think about their frivolous employers? Are they jealous? Resentful? Or is this just another day in the life of a servant? The painting clearly has a story behind it – possibly several.

Last week I was browsing in my favorite used bookstore and happened upon a coffee table art book of Vettriano’s work. As I leafed through the gorgeous volume of high quality reproductions, I found myself spellbound. Vettriano may be most famous for the sunny image above, but many of his other paintings have a very different vibe. They’re dark, sensuous, intimate – detailed portrayals of sex and love, desperation and ennui. The best are erotic gems, complex vignettes frozen by the painter’s brush.

Vettriano is my contemporary. He was only a child during the fifties, but most of the scenes he paints seem to be set just post-WWII. They brim with a sort of bitter nostalgia. The women wear permed hair, dirndl skirts, ball gowns, high heels; the men sport wide lapels and fedoras. The details are meticulously rendered. And every painting seems to have a story behind it.

In “After the Thrill is Gone”, a glamorous woman in a strapless gown and heels sprawls on a couch, exhausted or perhaps in despair, a cigarette smoldering in her graceful fingers. Has she returned home from one party too many, drained by the superficiality of her life in the fast lane? Has she just dismissed her lover, bored by his attentions? Or is she the one who has been rejected?

Altar of Memory” is disturbing, almost perverse. An older man in a suit embraces a shapely, headless mannequin wearing a powder-blue gown. Was this his wife’s dress? His mistress’s? Did the absent woman die, or simply leave him for someone else? There’s a champagne flute on the table, a mirror on the wall. Whoever she was, one can almost imagine him stripping off the dress to make love to her mute simulacrum.

Beautiful Losers” presents us with what has to be a ménage a trois. On the right a man in a vest and shirt sleeves embraces a slender blonde, burying his face in her nape while he pulls her against his body. On the left, another man watches them, attentive despite his smoking butt and casually dangling leg. Is he waiting his turn? Judging? Giving instructions? And what about the woman? Is she the seated man’s wife, loaned to his friend? I could see that. Or perhaps she has been hired for their joint pleasure. Her arms are crossed over her breasts, perhaps in a gesture of self-protection, but possibly to make it easier for her to slip the straps of her gown off her shoulders.

Couple X” are clearly in the throes of lust. But who are they when they’re not lost in the intoxication of each other’s bodies?

At Last My Lovely” is even more enigmatic. The beautiful blonde strokes her lover’s cheek while his hand rests upon her bare knee. Meanwhile, her shadow looms over them, dripping with menace.

I hope you’ve taken the time to check out these images on Vettriano’s website. I couldn’t include them in the post for copyright reasons. Do you see the stories in them, the way I do? Erotic stories, in many cases, though perhaps not with happy endings?

Needless to say, given his subject matter, Jack Vettriano is controversial. Though he received the Order of the British Empire from Queen Elizabeth in 2003 (he is Scottish), he has also been panned by prudish critics as a purveyor of "badly conceived soft porn", and a painter of "dim erotica". Of course, that doesn’t bother me, given that I believe sex is one of the most important subjects for art.

Indeed, one of the reasons I found his images so thrilling was that they triggered all sorts of story ideas. I thought I’d finish this post by sharing a 200 word piece of flash fiction I just wrote in response to his 2006 creation “A Very Married Woman”.

A Very Married Woman

By Lisabet Sarai

Same time next Wednesday?” As she fixes her hair and make-up, she doesn’t bother to look at him. She’s gotten what she came for.

Sure.” That’s what he says, not what he thinks. She’s drained him twice in the past hour, once with her mouth, once with her wicked cunt, but it’s not enough, not nearly. Stay, he wants to tell her. Let me devour you. Let me hold you. She’d just laugh.

Nothing outside this room matters anymore. This is the only place he’s alive. Things that used to thrill him – the deals, the chase, the triumphant days and the glittering nights – mean nothing. Once a week, for an hour or two, his monochrome world turns Technicolor. Then gray shadows close in again.

How did this happen? When did simple, healthy lust morph into obsession? When they’re apart, he dreams of her sleek thighs. He wakes with her perfume in his nostrils.

I think Fred’s getting suspicious.” A teasing smile on her ripe, bruised lips. “Maybe we should stop.”

No!” He leaps to his feet and encircles her with desperate arms. “Forget about him!”

Silly! Got to go pick up the kids.”

Her quick kiss shatters him.

Red hot love, epic courage – #MMRomance #AmWriting #SciFi @Parr_Books

Love in Danger cover

By E.D. Parr (Guest Blogger)

When I wrote Love in Danger, I wanted the story to have a completely different feel to my other stories.

Usually, my stories have the two main characters that are going to fall in love meeting in the first few chapters. Their meeting and falling in love is the story. There is always a happy ending, so often I will give readers a look at their future in a decision to stay together, marry, or a view of how happy they are after being committed partners for some time. I’m a big fan of love at first sight. Readers can blame it on Jane Austen, Shakespeare, and even Dickens to a certain extent.

So what’s different in Love in Danger? The two main romantic heroes are already together as Love in Danger starts. They’re warrior partners and lovers. They’ve been together for some time.

Writing this story with the heroes already in love gave me such pleasure, I might have to write another story where this is the case. (Smiles) The love between Corin and Marcus is obvious, but Corin can’t admit that he loves Marcus by saying the actual words, and that forms the romance ‘conflict’ within the story. This Sci-Fi story has horror themes, and adventure, including events that focus Corin on the need to tell Marcus besides showing him just how much he loves Marcus.

Marcus adores Corin and isn’t afraid to say so. He’s a sweetheart and it shows in how we see him assisting Corin.

Both heroes are special to me. Their origins and courage are epic. Their love is red hot and tender. I don’t know any authors who don’t fall in love with their characters. I always do, so I hope that readers love Corin and Marcus. I hope too, that readers enjoy the inclusion of another warrior in the story, Zeb, who used to be Corin’s lover. He’s a big part of the story without being part of the romance.

I hope readers enjoy Love in Danger, as much I loved writing it.

Love in Danger by E.D. Parr

Centuries ago, the planet they cherished was conquered, but now three warriors from an ancient race of gifted beings intend to remedy that.

Lovers, handsome Corin JaKobi and gorgeous Marcus D’Ath are members of an elite planetary squad that rid the city sectors of the mysterious and dangerous Fallen.

When an old friend uncovers the true horrific nature of the elders in the organization they work for, anger at their duplicity drives Corin, Marcus, and rogue squadron hunter, Zeb to plan for the ruling group’s demise.

It won’t be easy, and when Marcus is captured and detained at the elders’ pleasure, Corin’s white-hot fury at the thought of losing the man he loves knows no bounds.

Will Corin get to his beloved, Marcus, in time to stop the horror that awaits him?

Can the warriors free the planet and return it to the lovely place it was before the aggressors arrived?


On new release discount of 25% off RRP on Evernight only

Download files for your kindle or other e-reader from the sites above

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Excerpt (Adult)

Corin received a call on his communicator just as he and Marcus loaded the crockery from their meal into the dishwasher. He looked over at Marcus as he listened to the order and gave his lover a stare to convey annoyance at the task they’d been given.

Marcus grinned in return at the silent communication and pressed the button on the panel to start the machine.

He leaned on the counter, arms folded, waiting for Corin.

Affection flowed over Corin as he looked at Marcus. He traced the handsome man’s face with appreciative eyes. He walked quickly to his lover, dropped the communicator onto the table as he passed, and slipped his hands around Marcus’s face. He kissed Marcus tenderly, until his lover grabbed his hips and thrust against him with a low moan. Passion surged through Corin and he rained hungry kisses on Marcus’s lips.

He broke to breathe and whisper. “We have a job over in the badlands. Some idiot’s crash landed over there.” Then he kissed Marcus again. He swept his hands along his lover’s shoulders and down his sides to pull off his lover’s soft shirt. Raw sexual need gripped him and he ran his fingers over Marcus’s muscled chest. Little sounds escaped him as Marcus returned his frantic kisses.

Marcus helped pull his shirt off, casting it aside, then resumed kissing Corin. He murmured against Corin’s mouth. “How close are you? I can feel your cock rock hard through your pants.” He bit softly along Corin’s bottom lip and palmed Corin’s erection.

Corin groaned and pushed against Marcus’s hand. The need to come made his voice thick. “Close.” He dotted kisses along Marcus’s bare shoulder breathing in the masculine aura and light rosemary scent of bath soap on his skin. He dropped his hands to between their bodies and opened Marcus’s pants, trembling, hardly able to wait for the feel of his lover’s cock. He dragged the cotton pants down around Marcus’s thighs and curled his fingers around the huge erection that sprang free.

Marcus groaned into his open-mouthed kiss. “Corin … you have no idea what you do to me…” He held the counter edge, leaning back and his dick leaked onto Corin’s thumb.

Corin’s stomach flipped with the feel of the pre-cum on his fingers as he circled the head of Marcus’s cock. He closed his eyes and pumped his lover’s dick, groaning a little at the pleasure that consumed him and pressing his lips to Marcus’s. His own cock leaked and grew so hard he thought he’d come just from the delicious feel of Marcus’s kiss and satin-skinned erection in his hand.

Marcus thrust into his palm. He gripped Corin’s shoulders and rested his forehead on Corin’s as his cum spurted. He moaned and gasped trying to kiss Corin as his hips jerked.

Corin smiled onto Marcus’s lips. He waited for his lover to finish coming and kissed him softly every time he felt a throb run through his lover’s cock.

Marcus slid his hands around Corin’s face and kissed him.

The tenderness in the kiss dropped a blanket of love over Corin. He sighed as Marcus drew away and with a gentle push to move Corin, dropped to his knees.

Connect with ED Parr

Tuesday, January 26, 2021

Did he need sex, or was he just sleep deprived? #LGBTQI #MMRomance #Giveaway @MeganSlayer

Doc Cedarwood cover


Can an accident and a rim job lead to lasting love?

Aiden Connor isn't looking for a date. Sure, he wants one, but relationships seem to be too difficult to maintain. He's an ER doctor and doesn't have time for commitment...that is, until he runs over a curb and needs a new rim for his sports car. The mechanic isn't anything like he expects, but could be the one man he needs if he's willing to open his mind and heart.

Matt Phillips equates dating with disaster, but sees himself as an eternal optimist. When he catches sight of Aiden, he wants to give relationships a try. Every cell in his body screams to get the sexy doctor naked and in his bed. But Matt has demons and addictions he's still working through. Will he fall prey to his past or learn and move forward with the hot doctor?


Do you have a tow truck?”

We do. What happened? Usually people come here in a vehicle. You seem to be without one.” The man smiled. The five o’clock shadow darkened his cheeks and his blue eyes sparkled. He’d combed his hair into a short mohawk and the inch-long spikes glimmered in the pink light of the neon sign.

Aiden read the man’s name tag. Matt. Funny, the guy didn’t strike him as a Matt. More like a Roscoe or a Boss. He smoothed his palms over his thighs. Blood rushed through his body and his nerve endings tingled. Each time he swept his gaze over Matt, his pulse reacted. Either he needed a date and sex, or he’d lost his mind from sleep deprivation. He straightened his shoulders. He wasn’t there for a date. “I ran over the curb down the road. I ruined my tire and probably more.”

If you hit the curb on Walker Road, then you jacked up more than a tire. If the rim isn’t a mess, I’d be shocked.” Matt disappeared into the garage bay, then stepped back out again without the rag. He snorted. “Most rims are a mess and if you did one hell of a job on it…” He whistled, then grinned. “Nice.”

Aiden swayed on his feet. Go figure, he’d found the one mechanic in town to make a lewd joke about rim jobs. “Can you fix it?”

I’ll get the truck. I doubt I’ll be able to get to it today because I need to find the right rim to fit your car. That’ll take me at least a couple of hours tomorrow to locate. The tire will be easy—unless you did more damage. I won’t know that until I get a look at the car.” Matt tugged a set of keys from his overalls. “Where did you leave it?”

Where I collided with the curb.” He pointed down the road. “You’re sure it’ll take that long?”

Matt narrowed his eyes. “Guessing from your outfit, you’re late. For a date or your wedding?”

About the Author

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

Find out more about Megan and Wendi at:

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Fan Page,

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Megan Slayer will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

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Monday, January 25, 2021

Sign up for Charity Sunday - 31 January 2021 -- #Love #CharitySundaySignup #Sharing

Girl with cat - Charity Sunday

Image by Sarah Richter from Pixabay

It’s hard to believe that January is almost over! Next Sunday, January 31st, will be the first Charity Sunday for 2021. I do hope that you will consider joining us. It also happens to be my birthday, so I’ll be celebrating by giving away gifts to readers and people who comment.

Let me explain, in case you’re a new visitor. Charity Sunday is a meme designed to give us authors a chance to give back to the world—as well as, hopefully, attract new readers.

How does it work? Each participant selects a favorite charity. Before Charity Sunday, you should prepare a blog post that: 1) talks about the charity and why you support it; 2) provides a link to the charity; 3) includes an excerpt from one of your books; 4) includes the code to show links to other participating blogs.

It’s fun if you can make the excerpt relate somehow to your chosen charity, but this isn’t required.

For every comment left on your post, you commit to giving some amount to the relevant charity. The specific charity and the amount to donate are up to you. The posts stay open all month, to maximize the amount of donations. You can set an upper limit to your donation if you want.

If you’d like to participate in the next Charity Sunday, just sign up using the Linky List below. Please be sure that the link you enter will lead directly to your Charity Sunday post, not just to the home page of your blog.

You can get my Charity Sunday banner here.

For an example, check out last month’s Charity Sunday post:


Sunday, January 24, 2021

Will she want more than just sex without consequences? #EroticRomance #BisexualRomance #CompletelyYours @RomanticIsa

Completely Yours cover

By Isabelle Lauren (Guest Blogger)

I’m really excited that my erotic romance novel, Completely Yours, is out! I’ve worked on this novel for what feels like years, but was more like one year, and I’m excited to share it with the world.

Here is the blurb:

Caroline is on top of her game. Black Goddess, her company, is opening a store in New York, and a week away from the office is just what Caroline needs. In Toronto, she has to play the role of the prim, successful business woman, romantically linked with her business partner Daniel. But in New York she can be sexually free. It doesn’t hurt that this time, her attractive project manager Alisha is coming with them.

Alisha is attracted to both her bosses, but she is determined not to jeopardise her career. This determination is shaken when Caroline proposes a no-strings attached sexual relationship for the duration of the business trip. Unable to deny her feelings Alisha embarks upon a scorching sexual journey with Caroline.

Daniel is in love with Caroline. Knowing that their romantic relationship is nothing more than a facade with no chance of ever becoming a reality, Daniel decides to quit his job as Caroline’s business partner in an effort to protect his heart. All he has to do is survive the week in New York. But can he continue to deny his feelings, especially when Caroline needs him?

When the media makes details of Caroline’s sexual excesses public, Caroline, Alisha and Daniel must work together to save the future of Black Goddess—and their hearts.

The characters in Completely Yours are Black. That was not a conscious choice, but when I brainstormed my new novel, the idea came to me of a successful Black business woman who is not afraid of her sexuality. The novel developed from there and Alisha, Daniel and Caroline came into existence. I hadn’t planned for them to be Black specifically, but it fit the story perfectly, which is why I rolled with it.

During my writing of Completely Yours I was a member of a writing organisation which has a program to help new writers with their work. They had a group chat and during the whole racism scandal at the RWA, our group chat turned to those matters. We debated diversity about how there should be more diverse characters in novels. At the time, I had already written Completely Yours and was awaiting feedback from the “reader” who was supposed to help me in my writing career. Many authors in the group chat mentioned that they would never dare to write Black characters. “They are so different and I’d be worried to write something wrong. I wouldn’t feel comfortable to write from a Black perspective.”

I’m not Black, but that doesn’t prevent me from being able to understand Black people. I’m also not a billionaire, but have written novels which included the billionaire love interest. As writers, we can use our imagination to write from all kinds of perspectives which aren’t our own. Otherwise our books would be very dull. No one likes to read 20 books about a writer sitting at her desk in her pyjamas scrolling Twitter and berating herself for not writing. It would be SO boring.

As with any writing, I did use beta readers to sound out whether my novel was good and didn’t use harmful stereotypes. I also hired a sensitivity reader who could tell me whether or not I had allowed by unconscious bias into my work—both for the race and sexuality aspects of my novel. My novel is so much better because of it.

Excerpt (opening scene)

Alisha stifled a yawn. She couldnt remember the last time shed gotten up at five oclock in the morning on a Saturday, much less for a business trip. Although the flight had only been an hour, she felt frazzled. The car had picked her up at home, but instead of taking her to the regular terminal, it had taken her to a private jet. A private jet! She—Alisha Freeman from Scarborough, Ontario—had flown to New York on business in a private jet! She still couldnt believe it. It had been so luxurious. And now she was traveling in a limousine with her bosses Daniel Cole and Caroline Linwood to a penthouse apartment where theyd stay the week.

Carolines voice cut into her thoughts. Here are the latest photos from the store. The decorators finished last night.

As she leaned over to hand Alisha her iPad, their bare knees brushed. Alishas breath hitched as heat flushed her. She tried to stop her hands from shaking as she accepted the tablet. She did her best to focus on the pictures, but was suddenly very aware of Carolines scent—fresh and citrusy.

She cleared her throat. That looks beautiful.

Shed only been with Black Goddess for a month. It was her dream job—project manager at the successful beauty company focused on Black women. Caroline had commandeered her attention from day one and not just because she was the boss. She was gorgeous, oozing sex appeal. She wore her natural hair in a frizzy afro which made her look even taller than her five foot nine. Her skin was a deep dark brown, glowing no doubt from the expensive Black Goddess treatments she used.

Alisha focused her attention on the photos. They were opening a store in New York, which was the reason for the business trip. The color scheme of the new shop was the same as all other Black Goddess locations—gold, cream and blue. The new shop looked even more glamorous, though. It would fit right in with the other high end stores in the area.

Wow, that looks amazing.She forgot her attraction to Caroline and leaned closer to her. Look at that chandelier! And those floor-to-ceiling windows leave in so much light.

Let me see.Daniel, who sat across from them in the limousine, stretched out his hand for the tablet.

Alisha handed it to him. His eyes flashed to hers, warm with a smile. The heat in her body intensified and she dropped her gaze.

That turned out really well.His voice was deep and smooth, like honey.

She shifted in her seat. She knew it was ridiculous to be attracted to both her bosses, but she couldnt help it. Daniel was incredibly hot. He was easily six foot three. He looked like he worked out constantly—muscles rippling underneath his perfectly tailored suits—even though he worked long hours. She wondered when hed ever had time to go to the gym. His hair was closely cropped and his eyes the deepest brown shed ever seen. She could drown in them.

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About the Author

Isabelle has been writing ever since she can remember. She's tried her hand at pretty much any genre, but being an incurable romantic with a filthy mind, she made erotic romance her genre. Her books combine searing sex scenes with deep emotional connections. She loves making her readers hot with her words and is always happy to hear how her books have affected them.



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