The Scandalously Yours Tour! (#eroticromance #boxedset #blogtour #giveaway)

Scandalously yours…

Through the ages, where there has been society there have always been norms and, conversely, scandals when love gets in the way of propriety.

From the ancient Celts to medieval Cornwall, from Regency and Victorian England to the American west after the War Between the States, eight stories by multi-published, bestselling authors explore the triumphs of love between a man and a woman—even scandalous love—over what’s considered “proper” in their time.

Bringing the Goddess Aphrodite to Erotic Romance
By Anh Loed

I was working as a contemporary romance writer a few years back. I wasn’t writing sweet books and my editor at the time thought I might do well with erotic romance. I took on the challenge, and Aphrodite’s Necklace was the first erotic romance I ever wrote. What a learning curve that was, and it still reads as very spicy today, despite the mainstreaming of erotic romance. It is fitting that it is historical, set in early Victorian England, since the first romance story I ever sold was also a Victorian historical. Ironically, we’ve come full circle and I’m writing contemporary again, though I still write a lot of historicals, too. It’s been a pleasure to revisit and update this story, and also remember where the original idea came from—the Tarot.

I based Aphrodite’s Necklace on the Queen of Pentacles Tarot card. Mostly I focused on the themes of the card, as found in The Sexual Key to the Tarot by Theodor Laurence. 

 

You will see the goddess Aphrodite dressed as the Queen of Pentacles in some of the scenes though! I had fun looking at different versions of this card in the Tarot decks I own. As Aphrodite sees in the opening scene of the novella, the card signifies her love of sensual pleasures and sexual freedom. She embodies the card herself as a woman of magnificent beauty who loves sex for sex’s sake.

When Aphrodite offers her magic necklace to my unsuspecting characters, she gives them the gifts of sexual openness, excitement and generosity. There comes a time when she takes her gift away and then the reverse of the card creates problems for Emily and Will. They experience mistrust in each other. To find lasting love, my characters have to work their way back to those positive gifts in their own way.

Blurb

Aphrodite’s Necklace, by Anh Leod

Exiled by her husband to staid, Victorian England, the goddess Aphrodite is determined to spice up life for a mortal couple by giving them a magic necklace that opens their minds and hearts to passion. Can she teach innocents to delight in sensual love?

Emily Rogers is in the marriage mart, but once the necklace is in her hands, she enlists William Coxe, her family butler, to help find its owner. As Aphrodite intended when she dropped the priceless piece at a ball held in Emily’s home, desire overwhelms Emily—and also William, whom Emily’s parents would never countenance her marrying.

Good sense prevails when the two return the necklace to the goddess, but by this time love has caught the lovers in what seems an impossible situation. Can improper love survive the loss of Aphrodite's necklace? Only with the goddess’s help can they find a way toward lasting happiness.

Excerpt

Emily caught a glimpse of the mysterious woman in the doorway that opened onto the corridor. She walked forward as quickly as she could without losing all decorum, but the woman had vanished into the hall. Nearly skipping in her eagerness to reach her, Emily didn’t see the obstacle until she stumbled over it.

A candelabra cast its light to the floor and she saw what had impeded her progress, nearly causing her to fall. She gasped and reached down a hand. It was the woman in red’s necklace.

How could she have missed her jewels tumbling to the floor? Emily examined the piece. The clasp was undone, though it didn’t appear to be broken. Perhaps it was loose, or hadn’t been fastened properly. Emily saw the winking diamonds and sparkling emeralds were quite real. If it were hers she could sell it for not only a significant dowry, but also a year’s household expenses.

Holding such expensive gems made her feel funny, as if her heart and senses wanted to jump out of her skin. What felt almost like a cool breeze lifted her skirt and the air caressed her womanflesh. She shuddered and looked around. Thankfully, no one was paying any attention to her.

Holding the necklace and feeling quite steamy in her private area, she stepped into the hallway. She pressed her thighs together and when she separated them, they were sticky with some kind of hot fluid that had moistened her inside. She swallowed her shock as her nipples thrust against her corset. What was happening to her?

Once again, she saw Coxe coming toward her. She must have strayed too far from the party for a second time. This time, instead of embarrassment at shirking her duties, she felt a hot flush of excitement. She folded her arms around herself and leaned against the wall.

Her face felt feverish and she licked her lips, thirsty despite the lemonade she had so recently finished.

“Are you well, Miss Rogers?” Coxe asked. She saw genuine emotion in his eyes, an unusual concern for her as she held up the necklace to him.

“Where did it come from?” he asked, touching the pearl drop at the end of the necklace’s center stones.

She watched with wonder as his entire body shuddered and when he looked at her again, his eyes were alight with the same kind of fever she was experiencing.

“The lady in red,” she whispered, “I saw it on her before.”

About Anh Leod

Anh Leod, AKA Heather Hiestand, was born in Illinois, but her family migrated west before she started school. Since then she has claimed Washington State as home, except for a few years in California. She wrote her first story at age seven and went on to major in creative writing at the University of Washington. Her first published fiction was a mystery short story, but since then it has been all about the many flavors of romance. Heather’s first published romance short story was set in the Victorian period, and she continues to return, fascinated by the rapid changes of the nineteenth century. The author of many novels, novellas, and short stories, she has achieved best-seller status at Amazon and Barnes and Noble. With her husband and son, she makes her home in a small town and supposedly works out of her tiny office, though she mostly writes in her easy chair in the living room.

Social Media Links

Website: http://www.anhleod.com

Blog: http://heatherhiestand.com/blog/

Facebook Page https://www.facebook.com/pages/Heather-HiestandAnh-Leod/24271017921?ref=br_tf

Twitter http://twitter.com/heatherhiestand

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/heatherhiestand/

Buy links:

Amazon.com— http://amzn.to/1QG7y2d

Amazon UK-- http://amzn.to/1POPAdZ

All Romance Ebooks-- http://bit.ly/1Vk1rED

Kobo-- https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/scandalously-yours-2-166.html

Smashwords-- https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/612550?ref=cw1985

Books will also be available at barnesandnoble.com and iTunes (Apple), but buy links are not yet available for them.

GIVEAWAY!

Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. Plus you'll get the chance to meet each of the authors and to read blurbs and excerpts from their contributions to the collection!

The tour dates are here: http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/scandalously-yours/

a Rafflecopter giveaway
 

Two of My Hottest

By Jane Leopold Quinn (Guest Blogger)

I wrote two short stories early in my career and they're some of the most erotic I've written. In the recent years, my stories have lightened up, become more mainstream with hot love scenes. So when I re-read these early stories I was very pleasantly reminded with how much I loved writing them.

Her Hero

The second erotic short I wrote was intended for a Whiskey Creek Press Torrid anthology titled Lust. I was invited to contribute by Emma Wildes. In that antho, the story was Mercenary Desires. It was republished by Siren and is now self-pubbed with a new title and new cover.

The inspiration for this hot story was something not very "hot" at all. It was winter and cough medications were advertised on TV. One particular commercial caught my eye. A unattractive fellow coughed all day long, irritating his co-workers. Someone offered him a cough drop and poof!, he turned into a non-coughing hunk. A story popped/poofed! into my head. An ugly, bearded, beat up looking man rescues a beautiful woman from danger. Hint: he cleans up nicely.

Here’s the blurb for Her Hero:

Rowdy Pierce -- warrior. Sara Stewart -- artist. Macho mercenary rescues posh jewelry designer. Their lives collide in an spectacular rescue and escape across the Egyptian desert. Sara falls for her sexy, body-to-die-for hero and makes the first move. Rowdy, fascinated by the luscious, sweet-bodied, free-spirited woman he saved, takes what Sara offers. He doesn’t expect to lose his heart. Will their lust turn to something deeper back in the real world?

And an excerpt...

“Not here.”

“Where?” His voice was an embarrassing breathless, husky whisper.

“My office…big couch.”

“Thank you, Lord.” He swept her up—he loved doing that—charged through the doorway to her office, kicked the door shut, and dropped her down on the sofa. The little devil lay there beaming up at him with those blue eyes, not looking icy at all. Rowdy knelt beside the couch. “Take this off,” he ordered as he pulled her sweater and tank top all the way off over her head.

“Sonofabitch.” His breath caught in his throat. He was afraid his heart would stop.

“You don’t like it?”

Her falsely innocent question kicked it back in. “Like?” he gasped. Glancing at her pleased expression, he dragged his gaze back to her breathtaking breasts. His tiny feminine side appreciated that her bra was spectacular, the colors shimmering into each other, the lace barely covering her. But he could give a shit. The huge masculine side wanted to taste the soft, cushiony skin, preferably…now. He lowered his head and sucked her nipple between his teeth.

She responded with a sharp cry.

Right through the lace, he rocked it, lashing the tip with his tongue.

She twisted and surged, her fingers in his hair, gripping his head. “The other one,” she begged with little kitten-like mews.

He was a good boy; he did as he was told. With a final nip, he lifted his head and whispered, “The jeans.”

She nodded frantically. “Uh huh…”

He slid them down her long, beautiful legs, right off over the sexy stilettos. “Fuck.” The panties matched her bra, blonde pussy hair peeping through the lace over her mound. “Jesus, sweetheart, you’re killin’ me,” he groaned. “Long legs, sexy underwear, and stilettos? I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Sara groaned. Her chest rose and fell sharply. “I want you inside me now. Slow later,” she ordered, gripping the front of his shirt.

“Yes, ma’am.” He stood, divested himself of his shirt, boots, and jeans, and after peeling her out of her bra and panties, knelt between her thighs on the cushions. “Leave the shoes on,” he commanded. He didn’t give a crap if those spikes scratched his ass to ribbons.

“Rowdy, I want you…now.” She clutched his arms, pulling him toward her.

Shaking, you’d think it was his first time with a woman, Rowdy pushed her thighs out, rolling them open. God, she was pink and wet and ready, her clit swollen and red, her pussy soft, winking moistly at him. “Hoh…Jesus…” he intoned reverently. He wanted to ram his aching cock inside her little hole until she shrieked with pleasure.

She moaned, threw her head back, “Oh, God.”

She squirmed when he pressed his thumbs on either side of her clit. “This is so pretty, darlin’.”

Her Hero is available for sale here
http://amzn.com/B00TKXN6KO

Loving Valentine

Loving Valentine was the first short story I ever wrote. A critique group I was a member of had a challenge on Valentine's Day to write a snippet based around a red satin, heart shaped pillow. Some of the others wrote a scene like a couple floating in a canoe down a scenic river, the heroine's head resting on the satin pillow. I wrote what became the opening scene of Valentine's Day, as it was titled when first published in 2006.

Excerpt

"Val, baby, open your eyes," Rafe demanded, his voice raspy with lust.

She felt him slide her little red satin, heart shaped pillow under her. Yes. That was just perfect to hike her bottom up, level with his lips. He was so tall, and she wanted to do whatever necessary to aid him in his mission.

"God, Rafe, pleeeeze," she whimpered. All her erotic fantasies coming true, Valentine quivered in anticipation. Stretched out, her bottom balanced on the edge of the bed, her legs tightened around her brother's best friend's shoulders, she panted for deliverance. Thankfully, she didn't have long to wait.

Their eyes locked on each other's, Rafe's mouth clamped around her clit, and she strained her long legs up and out, widening them to urge him in closer. Val clutched his hair and stood her tippy toes on end, pushing herself into his face. Her back arched as fireworks raced from nerve endings in her core, to her nipples, to her brain.

"Yes…there…that's it. Don't stop that," she pleaded, her voice rising into hysteria.

###

You can imagine the shock of some of the group's members. I don't think they expected something so raw. At first I was kind of embarrassed, but then I grew to be pretty proud of the imagery I'd created. The scene sat in limbo for a year or so. I sure didn't know what to do with it. Shortly after my first novel was accepted by Whiskey Creek Press Torrid, I had a chance to contribute to a series of shorts in Torrid Teasers.

Here's the blurb of the expanded story.

Valentine, her brother Ryan and his best friend Rafe, ran wild when they were kids. Val's crush on Rafe started early and never died. Recovering from his divorce, Rafe reunites with Val at Ryan's wedding and is thoroughly turned on by the stunning woman she's become. Sparks fly, and their mutual fascination turns to lust. Val and Rafe's lifelong fantasies are fulfilled in one night of breathtaking sensuality. Can this ecstatic reunion turn to love?

One guess as to whether their reunion turns to love. I have now re-published this book, changed the title to Loving Valentine, and gave it a new cover.

Loving Valentine sale link

http://amzn.com/B007JCTXRS

Besides loving these two stories, I've discovered the pleasures of making my own covers. The Jimmy Thomas site romancenovelcovers.com has been a gold mine of possibilities for me. I've used pre-made covers from that site, and now I've begun buying stock images and adding my own title and author name. I've also used iStock.com and periodimages.com. My covers are simple, but I think pretty effective. Her Hero's cover is downright scorching hot. My eyeballs are smiling.

About Me

Sensual fantasies were locked in my mind for years until a friend said, "Why don't you write them down?" Why not, indeed? One spiral notebook, a pen and the unleashing of my imagination later, and here I am with more than a dozen books published. The craft of writing erotic romance has become my passion and my niche in life. I love every part of the creative process—developing characters, designing the plot, even drawing the layout of physical spaces from my stories.
My careers have been varied—third grade school teacher, bookkeeper, secretary—none of which gave me a bit of inspiration. But now I'm lucky enough to write romance full time—the best job in the universe! And I'm fortunate enough to have found my own happily ever after husband.

Jane Leopold Quinn

My Romance: Love With a Scorching Sensuality

http://janeleopoldquinn.BlogSpot.com

https://twitter.com/jelquinnauthor

Amazon Author Page http://amzn.to/1DfiXkP

My Books

Ellora's Cave

Lost and Found

The Real Deal

Indie

Loving Valentine

His, Hers & His

The Keeper

Soldier, Come Home

Winning Violetta

A Promise at Dawn

Jake and Ivy

Wooing the Librarian

Home to Stay

The Long Road to You

Her Hero

Siren

I'll Be Your Last

Sneak Peek: A Promise at Dawn by Jane Leopold Quinn

Blurb

Their affair was scorchingly sensual

Faye Burke, recently widowed, retreated to the coast of Maine to grieve and reassess her future. Her favorite part of the day is watching the sun rise out of the Atlantic Ocean. It’s also when the man she considers her guilty pleasure runs along the beach.

Gil Farrelly, a successful painter, is trying to get his career back on track after the studio fire that destroyed everything. He starts his creative juices flowing every day by running on the beach. The lovely woman who watches him also gets his juices flowing and he’s determined to reinvent his career by painting her.

Faye’s combination of maturity and sensual vulnerability intrigue Gil and he wants to immortalize her on his canvas. She’s flattered, aroused and ultimately frightened of the emotions he incites. He claims not to care he’s younger by twelve years but she believes sooner or later he’ll come to his senses and seek out women his own age. Can Faye conquer her fears? Can Gil prove to her it’s not age separating them but her fear?

Excerpt

“Was your studio here in this area?”

“Uh huh. Like you, I came up here a couple years ago to find myself. Since the fire, I’ve been doing some landscapes. You’re the first portrait I’ve wanted to do in a long time.”

She lay on her back, tilting her face to the sun, savoring the warmth. She’d popped a slice of apple in her mouth, and he watched her chew and swallow it. “Faye,” he began, shifting his body over hers.

She sighed and opened her eyes.

He didn’t waste any time. Through eyes barely open, he watched her lashes close, watched her lips part. He kissed her softly. With light touches and delicate sips, he tasted the sweet stickiness of the apple on her lips.

She didn’t respond. It wasn’t a rejection. It just wasn’t a response.

He braced his hands on either side of her shoulders, holding himself off her breasts so the only place their bodies met was their lips. It took all his control to go slowly.

At first she didn’t touch him. Then at the same time she began to kiss him back, she placed her palms on his chest, their warmth and pressure highly arousing. She slid her arms around him and slowly pulled him down on top of her.

Yes.

He took that for permission and rolled to his back, taking her, draping her over his body. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand cupping her head lightly, giving her the opportunity to break away if she didn’t like it. She stayed, and he deepened his kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, claiming her, delving into her welcoming and passionate response.

Her moans rose sweetly from her throat, then became deep growling noises. Her hands cupped his face, held him. She massaged his tongue with hers. His cock surged in response.

He rolled again putting her beneath him and slid his thigh between hers.

Her body quivered, her hips undulated, pressing upward against his.

He moved his fingers to the buttons of her sweater and flicked them open one by one, spreading the sides to reveal a pretty white lacy bra with, thank the good Lord, a front clasp. Her eyes opened, met his with an erotic, pleading gaze. The clasp easily opened, and her full, pale breasts spilled free.

“Gil,” she gasped his name. There was no question in it, just pure desire.

Slipping his hands under her shoulders, he pulled her up, brought his mouth down, and latched onto a beautiful strawberry shaded nipple as erect and hard as a little clit.

He uttered a soft grunt at her sharp cry, drawing on her, loving the taste and feel of the tightly furled bud.

She clawed at his shoulders, writhing under him. “Yes, yes, God, yes.”

He delicately clamped her nipple between his teeth.

“Yes. Harder.”

He rocked the tip and lashed it with his tongue.

“Oh. The other one,” she begged with a breaking sob. She fisted her fingers in his T-shirt, yanking, tugging at it.

He released her nipple and pushed himself up.

“No,” she cried.

He gripped the back of his T-shirt and pulled it off over his head, tossing it aside. “I want to feel your skin on mine,” he murmured, and teased her other nipple.

She gave herself so completely over to the torment of his mouth. He could feel her fingernails on his shoulders. The harder she scored, the deeper he drew on her nipple. They fed off each other, off the ecstatic storm of their emotions. She cried his name, rolled her head back and forth on the blanket, stiffened, and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. He felt her orgasm in the vibration of the guttural groan from deep in her belly.

His heart soared, his lips tipped in an elated smile. Just giving her this pleasure satisfied him more than he thought possible. She was an amazing combination of reluctance and responsiveness. She thought her age might make her less attractive? Ha!

A Promise at Dawn is available at Amazon

Amazon Reviews

"Good short story! Faye and Gil have very hot chemistry, and their story is heartwarming. I was surprised at the character development in such a short offering. Faye had suffered such a huge loss, and we were drawn in along on her new path in life."

"Ms Quinn paints a detailed portrait of a woman re-awakening after the loss of her husband. Her emotional state is handled quite deftly. This story has pathos, passion and humor woven together. Gil and Faye's story unfolds quickly and it's a scorcher."

About Me

Sensual fantasies were locked in my mind for years until a friend said, "Why don't you write them down?" Why not, indeed? One spiral notebook, a pen and the unleashing of my imagination later, and here I am with more than a dozen books published. The craft of writing erotic romance has become my passion and my niche in life. I love every part of the creative process — developing characters, designing the plot, even drawing the layout of physical spaces from my stories. My careers have been varied — third grade school teacher, bookkeeper, secretary — none of which gave me a bit of inspiration. But now I'm lucky enough to write romance full time — the best job in the universe!

Jane Leopold Quinn

My Romance:  Love With a Scorching Sensuality

http://janeleopoldquinn.BlogSpot.com  +  https://twitter.com/jelquinnauthor