Sunday, April 30, 2023

Charity Sunday: For Nature -- #ApexPredator #ClimateChange #CharitySunday

Charity Sunday

Welcome to the April edition of the Charity Sunday blog hop. Since Earth Day was just a week ago, I thought I’d focus this month on an environmental charity. Specifically, for this Charity Sunday I am supporting the Mountain Lion Foundation.

The mission of MLF is to help ensure the survival of the American mountain lion (also known as cougars, pumas or panthers). Their work includes teaching people how to co-exist with mountain lions, fighting legislation (e.g. related to hunting or trapping) that jeopardizes mountain lions, conducting research into mountain lion distribution and behavior, and generally raising public awareness about lions.

It may seem that this is a very narrow mandate, compared to other organizations like the Wilderness Society or the World Wildlife Fund. However, mountain lions are both a key indicator of a healthy environment, and a factor in maintaining such an environment. As an apex predator, mountain lions function as ecological engineers, meaning they help keep entire ecosystems functioning properly. Lions reduce the time deer and elk spend browsing along streams, which helps protect our waterways from both droughts and flooding. Furthermore, mountain lion carrion provides food sources for countless wildlife species, helping maintain biodiversity and keeping ecosystems intact and resilient to change.

Of course, mountain lions are a prime example of “charismatic megafauna”. They are beautiful, powerful, and intelligent. Engaging people emotionally with mountain lions is one way to make them more aware of the wonders of nature in general – and of the threats to the environment created by humans.


Anyway, I will donate two dollars to the Mountain Lion Foundation for every comment I receive on this post.

My excerpt comes from Hot Spell, a paranormal erotic romance with an environmental/nature theme. It’s the first book of my Elemental Passions series. (So far there are two – I really need to write the third!)

In addition to the donations, I will give away a free copy of this book to one person who leaves a comment.


The flames of passion are more than metaphor

Comfortable and at home in nature, Sylvie doesn't mind being alone in the wilderness. But she's not the only being haunting the glades and the trails. The stranger she encounters bathing in the stream near her camp obviously wants her, but refuses to act on his desire. Aidan is cursed with a power he fears will destroy her if they surrender to their passion. Can Sylvie refrain from tempting him?



The miles evaporated as Sylvie raced along the highway. Hot wind from the open window whipped her long hair back behind her. As the road climbed under her wheels, her spirits rose as well. She sang along with the oldies station as she drove—Satisfaction, Thunder Road, Born to Be Wild. The DJ’s playlist matched her mood. For the first time in weeks, she felt free, the burdens and worries of city life left behind her. Even the continuing heat failed to oppress her, spiked as it was with the scents of pine and wildflowers.

She reached the trailhead about five. Sunlight slanted between the towering trees like gold bars. She locked her car, then shouldered her pack and set out at a brisk pace for the campsite, about three miles up the path. She’d camped in these woods before, when she’d been in college. It seemed like a hundred years ago.

Alice and Jill had been appalled when she’d told them her plans. “Alone? In the middle of the wilderness?” Jill’s perfectly shaped eyebrows had knit in a frown. “What if something happens?”

What could happen?” she’d laughed, guessing that neither of her friends had ever taken a hike or slept under the stars—or would ever consider doing so.

Wild animals! Bears. Mountain lions. Or you might fall, break a leg and be stranded. You could starve to death.”

And what about murderers or rapists?” Alice had rapped her fingernails against her desk. Her turquoise enamel matched her outfit. “You never know who you’ll meet out there in the woods.”

I’ll have my phone,” she’d reassured them, although she’d known there’d likely be no signal. “Animals are shy. They won’t bother me if I don’t bother them. And I took a self-defense course last year. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Anyway, you’ll know where I am. If I’m not back on Tuesday, send out the National Guard.”

She strode along the trail, swinging her arms and filling her lungs with the fragrant mountain air. Sweat pooled in her armpits and under her breasts. The weather was still unseasonably warm, but a fresh breeze played amongst the trees, hinting at the coolness to come wherever it touched her damp skin. As dusk shrouded the forest, her senses grew keener. An owl perched on an overhanging branch—she caught the yellow glint of its eyes. Some furred creature skittered through the underbrush and the mournful call of a loon reached her from the direction of Crystal Lake, miles away. A spicy hint of crushed fennel tickled her nose, triggering a pang of hunger. Sylvie smiled, remembering the chunks of salmon marinating in a Ziplock bag in her backpack. She’d brought a half bottle of wine, too, for her first dinner in the wild. Somehow, she’d felt like celebrating.

Full night had fallen by the time she reached the campsite, perched on a ridge above the steep banks of Sandman Creek. As she piled fallen branches inside the ring of blackened stones and kindled them into a merry blaze, she could hear the stream singing to itself…or maybe welcoming her back where she belonged.

Her meal was every bit as tasty and satisfying as she’d anticipated. Afterwards, she sat for what seemed like hours, her back against the rough bark of a huge spruce, tasting the residual sweetness of her wine, watching the fire burn down to a clutch of glowing embers. The cinders shone from within like some dragon’s precious cache—ruby, gold, an occasional flash of emerald. The play of light fascinated her.

Her muscles ached from the strenuous hike. Her hair was in knots and a sticky film of perspiration coated her skin. None of that mattered. Peace enfolded her, along with a profound sense of well-being. The breeze whispered to her. The creek babbled and laughed.

Water. A bath. Relaxed, lazy and sated though she was, the notion still held an irresistible appeal. Sylvie checked the remains of the fire to assure herself that there was no chance it would escape the rocks encircling it. Then she dug a towel out of her pack and headed down the forested slope to the creek.

The gurgle of water tumbling over stone grew louder as she approached. The very sound was refreshing. A few feet from the edge, she stripped off her clothes, draping them and her towel over a convenient boulder. She was about to step out of the woods when an unexpected movement caught her eye.

There was something splashing in the creek a bit downstream from where she stood—something…or someone. Sylvie shrank back into the shadow of the trees.

Directly opposite her, the stream rushed over river-polished rocks, flecked with white froth. To her right, though, it widened into a calm pool, black as the sky above. The unexpected noise came from there.

She peered into the night. All she could see at first was a round, furry mass that seemed to float upon the surface. Ripples stirred as a figure rose from the water. At the same time, the half moon climbed above the crest of the trees. Its pale rays revealed the form of a naked man.

Sylvie caught her breath. His back was to her—a gleaming, sculpted expanse that swept down to a narrow waist, then flared into taut buttocks. A curtain of wet hair clung to his neck and shoulders. He took a step forwards, water swirling around his lean thighs. The grace and power revealed by that small motion made Sylvie ache inside. She’d rarely encountered such beauty in a man.

He turned then, and the ache deepened to an agony of want. Sleek skin stretched over his muscled chest and abdomen, strewn with glittering drops of moonlight. He turned his face to the sky and Sylvie caught a glimpse of features that seemed carved from marble—a soaring brow, chiseled jaw, sharp cheekbones and a broad, resolute mouth. The man’s eyes were closed, as though he was praying to the moon.

For buy links see

I hope you’ll visit the other authors participating in today’s Charity Sunday event.

Friday, April 28, 2023

Their blazing chemistry is unstoppable – #OppositesAttract #Metaphysical #Zodiac #PreOrder

Passion in the Cards cover


Headstrong, homebody farmer plus freedom-loving hippie chick equals the worst match ever, but their blazing chemistry is unstoppable.

Jesse Del Toro struggles to keep his organic farm afloat—hard enough without the delicious, dangerous distraction of Gemma’s return to Trappers Cove. The bewitching vagabond will never settle down in the quirky little beach town he calls home. But once ignited, their fiery attraction sets them on a collision course that could wreck him.

Nursing a wounded heart, Gemma Moore hopes a spell in her Aunt Zora’s metaphysical shop will soothe her stormy emotions. But from the moment Jesse walks in, calm is a lost cause. The hunky farmer is frustrating, stubborn, and oh so tempting. One hot night reveals his hidden side—sweet, sensual, and determined to make her his.

When a harmless secret backfires, Gemma discovers just how deeply she’s wounded the beautiful bull man, and how desperately she wants to keep him.


His grin slipped when a stunning woman stepped from behind the wooden screen and froze, her plush mouth open, her eyes wide. A nagging sense of recognition tickled his memory—and his body. Where had he met her before? His skin prickled as he searched her face for clues, eerily certain they’d shared something momentous. Then it clicked.

The girl from the beach. She was back again—older now, but with the same tawny hair that fell in heavy waves, the same piercing eyes whose colors shifted with the light, the same tilt of her head like a clever bird who saw right through him. His heart gave a powerful thump, then kicked into overdrive.

Zora followed the beauty, her batik tunic billowing as she trotted toward him. “See, I told you,” she called over her shoulder.

Pardon?” He blinked rapidly, his feet rooted to the floor.

The old hippie mama beamed. “Jesse, you remember my niece Gemma, don’t you?”

How could he ever forget?

Like the big, goofy teen he was when they first met, he shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. “You look different, Gemma. Your hair was longer last time, with purple tips, right? And you didn’t have that squiggle tattoo on your hand.”

She peered up at him through narrowed eyes. More green than blue today, they showed zero sign of recognition. That stung.

Stepping closer, she raised her slender hand and tapped the parallel zigzag lines. “Aquarius, my star sign. What’s yours?”

Her nearness made his tongue thick and his brain sluggish. She smelled of lilacs and lemon verbena, like springtime on his gramps’ farm. His farm now, though six months in, he still couldn’t get used to thinking of it that way.

Jesse’s a Taurus.” Zora patted his shoulder, took the delivery from his arms, and set it on the counter. “A classic example. Strong, steady, stubborn, and sensual.”

His cheeks flushed hot enough to fry an egg.

And he has the perfect Taurus name—del Toro.”

Gemma tapped her pursed lips. “Why does that sound so familiar?” Just like all those years ago, her sexy pout spun his thoughts into a dizzy spiral of want and need.

About the Author

Award-winning contemporary romance author Sadira Stone spins steamy, smoochy tales centering around small businesses—a quirky bookstore, a neighborhood bar, a vintage boutique, a hippie-dippy metaphysical shop... Set in the U.S. Pacific Northwest, her stories highlight found family, friendship, and the sizzling chemistry that pulls unlikely partners together. When she emerges from her writing cave in Las Vegas, Nevada (which she seldom does), she can be found in dance class, strumming her ukulele, exploring the Western U.S. with her charming husband, cooking up a storm, and gobbling all the romance books. For a guaranteed HEA (and no cliffhangers!) visit Sadira at

Buy Links



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Thursday, April 27, 2023

Forbidden fruit – #Bisexuality #Spirituality #Travel

Vows cover

After sharing my thoughts about male bisexuality earlier this week, I thought I’d share a bit from my story Vows, Book 3 in my Asian Adventures series. This story is a bit controversial (even if you’re comfortable with male bisexuality) since it involves a Buddhist monk as an object of desire. Let me assure you that the inevitable encounter is treated with delicacy – but is still blazingly erotic.


The more you try to release desire, the more attached you become.

Travel brings out a strange recklessness in my wife, a hunger for extremes that I don’t see when we’re in New York. I would never have acted on my desire for male flesh if she hadn’t bullied me into my first homosexual encounter. Not that I regret it. I’ll never forget that incandescent night with the audacious young punk she bought for me in Amsterdam.

Now, she wants us to seduce the achingly beautiful Buddhist monk we’ve met in Luang Prabang. I try to reject her suggestions, to resist temptation. But I can’t banish the images of Souvannaphone— ripe lips curved in a half-smile, brown eyes sparkling with gentle challenge, smooth curves of golden flesh that cry out to be kissed. I yearn for his body—and his serenity.


I saw him first.

Our boat had just rounded the tip of the peninsula that divides the Nam Khan from the Mekong. The driver cut the noisy motor and let us drift with the current through the golden haze of late afternoon. Peace. Birdsong and the mother river lapping against our hull were the only sounds. The highland breeze danced cool and sweet in my nostrils. I took a deep breath and let my tension ripple out and away like the river before us.

Lush jungle vegetation climbed up the right bank, into the hills. The left bank, on the city side—but who would have imagined that we were in a city, the ancient capital of a potent empire?—was less steep but carpeted with the same tangled greenery. All at once the slanting sun struck a gleam of gold ahead. As we drew closer, I saw a temple pier jutting into the water, a gilded pavilion with traditional eaves sweeping toward the ground.

A Buddha image nestled in an alcove near the peak of the roof. The man stood on the platform below, as motionless as a statue himself. Yet there was a kind of movement in his stillness. He was one with the river and the forest, breathing in slow unison with them as he gazed at us.

Orange robes draped his slender body. The honey-colored skin of his naked shoulder glowed in the waning sun. His shaven head highlighted a broad forehead, fine cheekbones, and full lips. He looked young, no more than eighteen. Then our eyes locked and I saw wisdom in his gaze, grace, perhaps humor. But definitely not innocence.

His beauty made me ache. Tears congealed into a knot in my throat. Then Danielle noticed him.

I’d like to fuck him,” she commented softly. I whipped around, embarrassed and concerned that the driver had heard, but he had his palms together, offering the ritual nop gesture of respect as we passed the pavilion.

Dani! Really! You’re terrible! I’m sure you know that it’s strictly forbidden for a Buddhist monk to touch a woman.”

So? Vows were made to be broken. Besides,” she said slyly, sneaking a hand into my lap, “you can’t pretend that you don’t want him as well.”

I hadn’t realized that I was half hard. I had thought that my appreciation of him was purely aesthetic. Under Dani’s skillful fingers, I swelled to a full erection in seconds. Grinning, she grasped the tab of my zipper and started to pull.

Stop it!” I whispered, appalled, grabbing for her invading hand. “Have a little respect!”

Oh, but baby, I do respect you,” she cooed. “I just want to make sure that you get what you want. Sometimes you’re too shy to go after it yourself.”

Buy Links

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Wednesday, April 26, 2023

Join us for Charity Saturday, 30 April 2023! #CharitySundaySignup #Altruism #Marketing

Earth Heart

Image by xiSerge from Pixabay

Since 2017, I’ve been devoting the last Sunday in each month to a post which features some worthy cause. Often, other bloggers join me in this effort, turning the event into a blog hop. The April Charity Sunday blog hop will take place this coming Sunday, April 30th.

Charity Sunday is a meme designed to give authors and bloggers a chance to give back to the world—as well as, hopefully, to attract new readers.

How does it work? Each participant selects a favorite charity. Before
the date, 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. You can set an upper limit to your donation if you want.

If you’d like to participate in the next Charity Sunday
on April 30th, 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.

I’ve created a new banner image for 2023. You can download it from here:

For more detailed instructions, go here:

For an example
post, check out this link from my last Charity Sunday:

Tuesday, April 25, 2023

Review Tuesday: Through the Lens by Adriana Kraft -- #Polyamory #Bisexuality #ReviewTuesday

Through the Lens cover

Through the Lens by Adriana Kraft

eXtasy Books, 2020

Elementary schoolteacher Ellen Jeffers can’t afford to be associated with any sort of impropriety. Her first reaction to her friend Angie’s invitation to intimacy is a kind of panic. News travels quickly in a small South Dakota town; even if she were comfortable with the idea of a female lover, Ellen would be risking her career. She’s grateful that she has a prior commitment for the summer, teaching photography and working as a studio assistant in Minneapolis.

Aaron Brewster prides himself on his understanding of women – especially when he’s gazing at them through his camera lens. He’s adept at stripping away layers of shyness and embarrassment to expose his subjects’ intrinsic sensuality. Eager to apply his usual techniques to his new assistant, he finds that she’s a puzzle, a baffling mixture of prudish innocence and brash self-confidence. For once, he’s not completely in control of his studio scenes. Ellen has an unprecedented ability to surprise, to arouse, and to deeply disturb him.

Working with Aaron and encouraged by his long-term model Tina, Ellen begins to appreciate her own capacity for erotic pleasure. Like a prairie flower, she opens and blooms. As she explores the landscape of her own lusts in the company of Tina and her husband Mike, Aaron watches in frustration. He wants Ellen as he’s never wanted another woman, to cherish as much as to ravish, but he can’t bring himself to admit this.

Aaron, Tina and Mike have a stable polyamorous relationship, which Ellen could complete. The main obstacle turns out not to be Ellen’s conservative scruples but Aaron’s confusion about his own motives.

Through the Lens is a luscious chronicle of a woman’s journey to self-knowledge and sexual freedom. Ellen’s disastrous first marriage has made her wary of intimacy. It takes a while for her to learn how to trust her body and surrender to her fantasies. When she does, the results are incendiary.

I love stories that recognize the fluidity of desire. This erotic romance celebrates bisexuality with a frank exuberance that I found thoroughly exhilarating. Adriana Kraft understands that carnal hunger and affection are not mutually exclusive – that lust and love can be a continuum – that monogamy is not the only shape for committed relationships – and that sex can be simultaneously earth-shattering and wonderful fun.

I did find certain aspects of this novel a bit implausible. In the real world, Aaron probably couldn’t get away with his outrageous in-studio antics. Meanwhile, Ellen’s transformation from uptight schoolteacher to enthusiastic voluptuary struck me as too quick and uncomplicated. In addition, the consolidation of the polyamorous unit felt too easy. I know from personal experience that finding the right partners for polyamory can be daunting. In a way, Mike and Tina are just place-holders. They’re both physically stunning and expert in the lascivious arts. We don’t get to know them at all, except in their roles as lovers.

All in all, I think Through the Lens works better as erotic fantasy than realistic romance. That’s fine, though. The sex scenes are creative, varied and profoundly satisfying. The book delivers both the happily-ever-after promised by the genre and the more fleeting but equally delightful release of erotic tension. If you’re comfortable with non-monogamous relationships and explicit, feel-good sex, you’re bound to enjoy it.

Monday, April 24, 2023

Shades of Desire -- #LGBTQ #Bisexuality #Labels

Rainbow Kiss

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Over the past half decade or so, society has officially acknowledged that neither gender nor sexual attraction is black and white. Male and female might be convenient boxes for sorting people, but many – possibly even most – people don’t fit comfortably in one or the other. Way back in the nineteen forties, Alfred Kinsey recognized a continuum in individuals’ sexual response, ranging from exclusively heterosexual to exclusively homosexual, but in recent years we’ve come to understand that even this insight is an over-simplification. Sexuality can be viewed along multiple dimensions. Orientation, attraction and action do not necessarily align. Gay, lesbian, transgender, bisexual, queer, non-binary, asexual, demisexual – the previously convenient LGBT acronym keeps acquiring new initials!

People do like labels. I’d argue, however, that no set of categories is sufficient to capture the many shades and nuances of desire. Sexual arousal and sexual satisfaction are based upon, but go way beyond, physical and biological factors. Personality, history, circumstances and especially emotion all contribute to determine what an individual experiences as erotic.

Some people might claim “I’m attracted to women” or “I’m aroused by men”, implying a sort of universality, but in many cases a more accurate statement would be “I’m attracted to that woman” or “that man”. Why? Appearance, behavior, voice, smile, scent, pheromones, conversation, values... any or all of these might be responsible for sexual desire. Furthermore, attraction to a specific individual can easily violate one’s conventional or acknowledged gender preference. For instance, a man who previously had only female partners might find himself drawn to a particular male.

I think we’re gradually become more accustomed to this notion, and the bookshelves reflect this. While stories featuring gay and lesbian relationships have enjoyed large followings for more than a decade, unexpected, non-traditional pairings (or multi-way connections) are now more common in erotica and erotic romance. One under-represented variation, though, is bisexual men. Aside from my own work (more below), I can’t think of any tale I’ve read recently that featured a hero who’s attracted to both men and women.

MM erotic romance frequently exploits the straight-to-gay trope, where a guy discovers or finally acknowledges his secret homosexual desires, but in most cases this results in the guy “switching teams” rather than embracing bisexuality. Indeed, I’ve found that fans of MM romance react really negatively if a predominantly gay character shows any interest in women. (I had a book rejected by a gay romance website once because of a half-page phone sex scene between a gay character and his female submissive.)

I don’t know how common bisexual men are in the real world. None of my male friends has ever admitted to having bisexual interests. I have a feeling that bisexual men may be even more closeted than gay men. Despite our supposedly broadening view of sex and gender identity, there’s a lingering association between male homosexuality and impaired masculinity. Men who are attracted to both genders may worry that their female partners may view them as less desirable or “manly” because they have sex with other men. They may even view themselves in that negative light.

The rarity of this erotic preference in literature may to some extent reflect this belief.

I’m not sure how, but somehow I managed to avoid being influenced by this and many other societal strictures about sex. I’ve been attracted to both genders since I was a teen; I’ve never really questioned whether this indicated there was something wrong with me. The multidimensional, fluid nature of desire seems obvious and intuitive to me. I’m more than ready to accept that eroticism is far more complex that the animal instinct some would like to claim it is.

When I began writing erotica, I felt it was natural to incorporate the full spectrum of desire including male bisexuality, even when this was beyond my personal experience. My very first novel, Raw Silk, includes a MMFF scene involving my heroine Kate, her exuberantly sexual Thai lover Somtow, a female domestic, and a male performer from a red light district bar. In my second novel, Incognito, the deceptively conventional hero Mark disguises the heroine as a young man and takes her to a gay men’s club in London, where she participates in his steamy encounter with one of the club’s members. Personally, I find this one of the most arousing chapters in the book.

At the time I wrote these novels, I knew nothing about market preferences or prejudices. I was using fiction to explore my personal fantasies. As my writing has matured, I’ve moved away from blatant sexual fantasy (at least in some cases!), aiming for more realistic characters and situations. Nevertheless, male bisexuality remains a favorite theme. In my recent holiday story Once Upon a Blizzard, a woman in her early forties reconnects with a flame from high school, only to discover that he shares his New England farmhouse with his male lover. In Monsoon Fever, a historical romance set in post-WWI Assam, Priscilla’s and Jonathan’s troubled marriage is healed by their mutual desire for a charismatic Indian lawyer. One of my most controversial stories may be Vows, Book 3 in my Asian Adventures series, about a mischievous but insightful wife who encourages her husband’s attraction to a beautiful Buddhist monk. That story (like much of my work, especially the stories of power exchange) turns on a recognition of the spiritual aspects of sex.

But that’s a topic for another blog post!

My bisexual tales often include a female protagonist as well as the two men. One common feature is that the woman is not threatened by the MM connection, but on the contrary finds it arousing. Though I’ve never had the good fortune to observe a couple of men having sex, I’m sure that I, at least, would react this way.

If you’re curious about my bisexual stories, I urge you to check out the links at the end, each of which will take you to a book blurb, excerpt and buy links for the corresponding title. Meanwhile, I’ve only mentioned a few of my books that feature bisexual men. For a full listing, go to and select the “LGBTQ” from the search list.

One of the people on my readers’ email list contacted me recently to tell me how much he appreciated my take on male bisexuality. He’s bisexual himself, married to a woman who sounds both tolerant and experimental. We’ve become regular correspondents. Early on, he mentioned that he really identified with my characters, including their frequent combination of excitement and anxiety. They’re drawn to other men, but afraid to act on that attraction. When they surrender to their desire, though, they have a deep conviction of rightness. That, he said, was exactly how he felt.

I’m thrilled to hear that, at least in one reader’s view, I've captured the truth.

Raw Silk –

Incognito –

Once Upon a Blizzard –

Monsoon Fever –

Vows –

Saturday, April 22, 2023

Hot and humorous erotica – still on sale! #FF #MF #Strippers #99Cents

Hot Brides Sale banner

Just popping in this Saturday to remind you that Hot Brides in Vegas, the first book in my Vegas Babes series, is still on sale for only 99 cents. Grab your copy of this outrageously sexy romp while it’s dirt cheap – the price goes up on May 1st.


Never underestimate the power of a horny bride.

Francesca Torellis tycoon father is throwing a lavish Las Vegas wedding for his only child. Her fiancé Jake and his buddies set out for a stag night, exploring the fleshpots of Sin City. Meanwhile, Fran and her bridesmaids Laura and Chantal are stuck at the resort under the watchful eye of her stern Aunt Giulia, who has promised her brother that Franny will come to the altar a virgin.

Frustrated and annoyed by these double standards, the young women hatch a plan to escape their chaperone and have some fun of their own. With the help of a susceptible concierge, a butch ex-cop limo driver and a scandalous French couturiere, they find their way to The Foxs Den, the most exclusiveand outrageous—gentlemen’s club in the city. Owner Larry Archer and his crew of strippers, bouncers, voyeurs and sluts are more than happy to welcome the delectable trio as contestants performing at the club’s famous Amateur Night.

The gleeful permissiveness of the Den challenges the women’s assumptions and undermines their inhibitions. Complications ensue when Jake and his groomsmen arrive to find Fran in the midst of her strip act. Then Aunt Giulia crashes the party, determined to save her virgin niece, and things get really sticky—both figuratively and literally.

Will love triumph? Will Francesca be drawn over to the dark side? Is there a difference?

Excerpt (Rated R)

Margaret opened the industrial strength door, stepping aside so Laura could enter the dim interior. The contrast with the brilliant sunlight outside temporarily blinded her.

Good afternoon, ladies.” A deep, masculine voice greeted them, polite but edged with a challenge. “Can I help you?”

Laura blinked. A tall, broad shouldered figure stood in front of her, powerful arms crossed over his chest. As her eyes adjusted to the change in illumination, she saw that the man blocking their way was younger than he sounded, with a blond buzz cut and a classically handsome face. A long scar crossed one cheek, giving him a bit of a rugged, dangerous look, but she guessed he was no older than late twenties. A fitted black tee shirt and slim jeans showed off his solid, well-muscled body. Her heart beat faster and more moisture leaked into her thong. This guy was too gorgeous to be real.

Hi, Steve.” Margaret stepped forward, pulling the girls after her. “I’ve got some fresh meat for Larry and Foxy.” She gave Laura’s shoulder a proprietary squeeze. “This is Laura, and her friends, Francesca and Chantal. They’re here for Amateur Night.”

Steve’s mouth puckered into a frown at the chauffeur’s rather tasteless introduction. He turned to Laura. “Welcome to The Fox’s Den. May I please see your IDs?”

They’re in the limo,” Laura replied. She smiled, glancing down at the skin-tight lace that barely covered her feminine charms. “This get-up doesn’t have any room for pockets.”

The security guard tried valiantly to be professional and resist the urge to ogle her. Laura could read the struggle on his face. He lost the fight, his eager eyes caressing her readily visible assets. She imagined his hands doing the same, and shivered with excitement.

I’m twenty four.” Chantal stepped forward. “Fran and Laura are both twenty three.” She struck a sultry pose, one hand on her cocked hip, her slit skirt revealing an enticing length of smooth, dark thigh. “We’re more than older enough to play.”

Margaret nodded in agreement. “I’ll bring in their bags and street clothes after I’ve delivered them to Linda, okay?”

Okay. Ladies, if you’ll follow me, I’ll introduce you to the manager.”

Much to her delight, he took Laura’s arm. His skin was warm and dry. His hip brushed against her as he guided her into the main part of the club. Leaning against him, as much as she dared, she breathed in his scent of soap and leather.

The Fox’s Den was a vast, dark space, with filled with low tables and upholstered booths, many of them occupied even at this early hour. Beams of colored light and patterned lasers sliced through the shadows. Classic rock blasted from speakers hung from the ceiling. A bar stretched along the far wall. Another encircled the main stage to the left, where a slim but busty blonde swiveled her hips and twirled around a pole attached to the ceiling. Other dancers pranced and shimmied on smaller platforms in different parts of the room, or on the tables. None of them was completely naked, as far as Laura could tell, but they might as well have been. She’d never seen so much bare female skin, not even in the locker room at her gym.

Most had huge tits, which jiggled and bounced as they did their bumps and grinds. Laura cupped her own modest breasts, wondering how she could ever compete. Then she caught Steve looking down at her, raw lust written all over his face. She snatched her hands away. He gave a lascivious little chuckle.

Don’t worry,” he said. “Lots of guys prefer the natural look.” He reached out to flick his thumb over a nipple that protruded through the lace. Lightning shot through her, straight to her cunt. “Like me.”

He led her and her friends past the dancers and the customers, to a table in the corner, occupied by a woman with a fluffy halo of wild, curly hair.

The woman at the table didn’t notice them at first. She was probably in her forties, but in great shape, judging from what Laura could see—which given the woman’s low cut, hot-pink tank top and denim mini-skirt, was quite a bit. Firm breasts with an impressive cleavage, broad hips curving out from her waist, long bronzed thighs…

Some sound made the older woman look up from some papers she’d been studying. “Hi, Steve—oh, Maggie! Great to see you!” She leaped up from her seat. Laura was not particularly surprised to see her grab their chauffeur and pull Margaret into a passionate kiss.

After a few minutes of slurping tongues and dry humping, the women parted.

Guess you missed me, Linda!” said Margaret with a salacious grin.

Give me a couple of minutes to deal with whatever Steve wants. Then I’ll take you into Larry’s office and show you exactly how much I missed you.”

Uhum…” Steve cleared his throat. “Linda, these young women are here for Amateur Night. Laura, Francesca and Chantal, this is Linda Maxwell, the club manager.”

The woman with the wild hair looked them over, her lips curving into a smile. “Very nice. Very nice indeed.” She turned back to the driver. “I gather you took them by to see Yvette?”

Of course.”

Laura felt a hot blush climbing into her cheeks. She fought the impulse to cross her hands over her breasts. Instead, she arched her spine, elevating them to the older woman’s gaze.

Linda’s smile grew wider. “Come with me, girls. I’ll take you back to the dressing room and introduce you to the regular dancers. They’ll show you the ropes and help make you more, um, comfortable.”

As for you, Ms. Margaret Saunders, you wait for me right here. I’ll be back in a flash to give you exactly what you deserve.”

And that would be?” asked Margaret, arching her eyebrows.

A spanking hard enough to wipe that smirk off your face,” the manager replied. “And then a fist deep in your cunt while I suck your clit.”

Laura’s stomach did a flip and her earlobes burned. She stumbled in her heels. Steve caught her, pulling her back against his solid chest. He held her there for a moment—long enough for her to feel the hard bulk of his erection pressing into the crevice between her buttocks.

Sound good?” he whispered in her ear. “I’m ready to oblige.”

He let her go, steadying her with a firm hand. “Be careful, Miss Laura,” he said loudly. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you before the show.” He grinned, displaying his perfect teeth, reminding Laura of a hungry predator. “I for one am really looking forward to your performance.”

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