Sneak Peek: The Persecution of the Wolves by Lucy Felthouse (#PNR #thriller #shifter @cw1985)

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Choose Your Gift!

Happy holidays, readers!

I hope you are enjoying the festive season. To make things even more fun, I've put together two free stories in PDF for you, complete with my own (albeit somewhat amateurish) covers. You can have either one, just for asking.

Silver Bells is a M/F/M BDSM ménage tale. Isabella is a willing slave to her devoted husband Greg, but their thrilling exchanges of power have always been private. Then, after a holiday party, Greg decides to share her with his old friend James. Can Isabella deal with pain and pleasure when it's administered by two masters?

Last Minute Gift is this month's free story on my website, but I thought you might like a copy for your eReader. Scott is royally annoyed when his boss makes him work on Christmas Eve. Then Flynn walks into the store and changes everything.

To get your choice of book, all you need to do is leave a comment on this post. Tell me: 1) your email and 2) which book you'd prefer. I'll send it back to you as an email attachment.

Could anything be easier?

This offer is open until New Year's Day. But why wait?

Don't Fight Your Nature

After years of struggle, I've finally learned that lesson.

I always envied the girls with long, straight hair. Alas, that just isn't me. I am fortunate (I know now) to have thick, curly, sometimes frizzy, hair that just doesn't want to be tamed. I spent my high school years ironing my locks (yes, that isn't just an urban myth), though my mom drew the line at chemical straighteners (thank goodness). It didn't help much. Somehow my hair always grew sideways as much as down!

But what about my head shot?  Looks pretty straight there, doesn't it? Part of that is due to air brushing. (That picture was taken long before Photoshop existed!) Part was due to the fact that I was still recovering from anorexia, which caused a lot of my hair to fall out. So for a few years my hair wasn't quite as bushy.

Pretty soon, though, I was back to normal...

Anyway, in the last decade or so, I've run up the white flag. I now have my hair cut shoulder length or shorter, using techniques that enhance the curl. When I first come home from the salon, my head is a mass of ringlets. And I love it. It's easy to care for - I just wash it and let it air dry, and the curl reappears all on its own. I've finally found a hair style that's compatible with my natural endowment.

I think a lot of writers increase their stress level because they try to fight their natural tendencies. Some of my colleagues struggle to write explicit sex scenes because they believe that's what the market wants - but they really hate the process. They're not comfortable, but they force themselves, and lose the joy of the writing in the process. Then there are the authors who decide they must write BDSM, because that's what's hot, post-Fifty-Shades. Doesn't matter that they've never been spanked or bound, and never wanted to be - they feel compelled to write in that genre, usually with less than stellar results. I think this is misguided. Some people are naturally vanilla, I believe. There are plenty of readers who fall into that category too.

Then there's me. I'm polymorphous perverse, interested in sexuality in all its forms - gay, lesbian, menage, male dominant, female dominant, fetish, and lots of other niche interests that might shock you if I were to enumerate them.  And I like to mix it all up in the same story, when I can.

But readers have told me they don't want M/F interaction in a M/M story. I've gotten some feedback that the majority of romance fans, at least, find F/F interactions "icky". If they find that icky - good Lord, how would they react to some of my more extreme fantasies?

Lately, though, I've decided that I'm not going to fight my nature. I'm going to give myself permission to follow the dictates of my imagination. If I turn some readers off - well, they'd probably be lukewarm about my more restrained pieces as well. My best stories are the ones where I explore what I find intriguing and arousing. And that's pretty varied.

So I've given myself permission to include some F/F interaction in my current WIP, even though it's intended for a romance audience and is primarily a M/F/M menage. After more than a dozen years writing and publishing, it's time for me to follow my natural inclinations.

Crossed Hearts - A Sneak Peak

On January 18th, Total-E-Bound releases the new M/M anthology Gaymes, which includes my story Crossed Hearts. I thought you might like a little preview!

For the past six years, Jason Hofstadter has attended the Four States Annual Scrabble Tournament. Jason comes to the Four States for two reasons - to play Scrabble and to get laid. Every year since his first, he has managed to hook up with one of the other players for some sexual fun. This year he has a chance at the grand prize in the tournament. Meanwhile, he figures he has hit the jackpot when he spots handsome, bookish Matt Sawyer, who's competing at the Four States for the first time.

Shy and seemingly innocent, Matt turns out to be full of surprises. First, he jumps Jason in the rest room at Starbucks. Then he reveals that he's into BDSM and encourages Jason to experiment with topping him. Finally, despite his lack of experience with tournament play, Matt ends up competing with Jason in the semi-final round. When Matt throws the game he should have won, Jason is forced to confront his own feelings - about winning, about casual sex, and about Matt.

Here's an (X-rated) excerpt:

The elevator doors had scarcely closed before Matt was on him, arms like steel bands locked around Jason's body. Matt's mouth was hard and demanding, not at all what Jason expected. His tongue pried Jason's lips apart and plunged inside. Hands roamed down Jason's back to grip the swell of his butt. Strong fingers dug into his flesh, pulling his hips against the stony lump in Matt's crotch. Friction sent white-hot jets of pleasure sizzling up his spine.

He tasted the berry-flavoured residue of Matt's wine. He smelled the rich funk of dried sweat from their afternoon jaunt. He clutched at Matt's shirt, pulling it up so he could slide his hands over the contours of the other man's naked back, smooth as sun-warmed marble.

Matt pushed him against the mirrored wall, releasing his mouth to lick a path down his neck to the hollow of his throat. Jason sucked in his breath as Matt pinched his nipple. A star of green pain bloomed then ripened to golden delight. Matt ground his erection against Jason's thigh, his own thigh pressed firmly between Jason's legs. Jason's dick pulsed helplessly against the hard limb that held it captive.

His eyes fluttered open. He glimpsed their reflection in the opposite mirror, over Matt's shoulder. Matt's head bent to Jason's chest, suckling him through his shirt. Jason's hands were buried in Matt's loose jeans, stroking the boy's silky butt. Their bodies squirmed in slow motion as each tortured the other's trapped penis. It was beautiful and obscene.

The lift chimed as it reached Jason's floor. The doors slid open. They tumbled out, hands still tangled in each other's clothing. The corridor appeared to be empty—hopefully, everyone was down in the ballroom, listening to speeches, watching videos of last year's highlights. Matt caught Jason again, halfway down the hall, flattening him against some stranger's door and claiming his mouth.

"Wait--Matt, hold on, just a second..." Matt stole his breath. Jason couldn't talk, couldn't think. He was ready to explode. He struggled out from underneath the younger man's weight and half-dragged Matt down to his room at the end of the hall.

He fumbled for his wallet in the pocket of his tight jeans, every motion transmitted to his aching dick. He managed to extract the key card, while Matt circled Jason's waist from behind and rubbed his cock up and down Jason's crack. Jason's hand trembled as he tried to slide the card into the slot. The light remained red. "Matt, please! I can't do this..." Matt reached down between Jason's legs, stroking then squeezing. "Damn it, Matt!" Jason protested, weak from the pleasure that shimmered through him.

Finally, the LED turned green. Jason wrenched himself from Matt's grasp and pushed the handle. The door swung inward. The two men fell into the room and collapsed onto the bed.