An irreverent interview with the Hot Sqad -- #urbanfantasy #adult #babes #demons

 

Hi, everyone! I’ve got a special treat for you today.

Gathered around for another thrilling Beyond Romance interview are the girls of Splendificent! Fleur Flannagan, Dusty Blackwood, Tristabelle Elvrina, and Sofi Poe. Not to mention the delicious Giselle Nyfall, California girl in residence. On hand to interview them is Dacy Alex.

DACY: Hot Squad, welcome back to Beyond Romance. We're going to talk about the retelling of your adventures from the erotic novel Giselle and The Hot Squad in the brand new urban fantasy adventure Splendificent!

FLEUR: “Retelling” eh. The first book sold like shit, so you change genres and reboot the series to make money?

DACY: I got a lot of gambling debts.

FLEUR: Same. But don’t ask me about this book because I was drunk as shit for most of it. I don’t know what the fuck happened.

SOFI: I’ll loan you some money, Dacy. One of my fans just Cash App’ed me 500 dollars just for being so pretty.

GISELLE: Well, I’m still the main character so I’ll talk about the book! I’m a super popular girl from California with tons of friends and I don’t trip over stuff, or break expensive objects, or accidentally start fires, or perv on Snap, or have an unhealthy fear of my mother.

DACY: Literally that was all lies.

GISELLE: Shhh! Anyway, I go out to Hemera University in Manhattan and thanks to a computer glitch I wind up rooming with these five gals. Only it turns into like a school girl battle manga because all of them but me are supernatural! Sofi is a fox spirit, Princess Tristabelle is a pure elf, Fleur is a succubus-vampire hybrid, and Dusty is a pixie. There are jokes, there’s sex, a cute prince who was totally feeling me, there are demons, there’s violence! It’s like Sex In The City meets Vampire Diaries meets a Sex In The City porn parody.

SOFI: And most of all there’s…me! And speaking of me, let me tell you about my social media empire.

DUSTY: Be quiet, Sofi. Did someone say violence? That’s where I come in. We had to tangle with some demons in the book. And it didn’t go too well for them. And it ain’t gonna to well for anyone who reads this interview and don’t buy the book. So lemme put ya’ll readers on notice, if any of you yellow bastards go to Amazon and buy a different book than Splendificent then I hope the good lord above has mercy on your soul, because ain’t no prayers gonna save your ass from Dusty Blackwood!

DACY: What the hell kind of sales pitch was that? You can’t threaten people on Lisabet’s blog.

DUSTY: Son, I’m Dusty Blackwood and I’m gonna do whatever I want.

FLEUR: Testify.

SOFI: That’s why you’re only a pixie, Dusty.. The fairy council said you’re too violent to be a fairy. And your mother is the Tooth Fairy and she must feel so ashamed.

GISELLE: But in the end, I think our story is about friendship and bonding. We're all just trying to work together to maybe save and change the world for the better. But we're connecting at a deeper level.

FLEUR: Exactly, that's very important for kids in college. I was talking to some sophomore and she was complaining about eating her girl's ass. Just on and on about how her girl makes her eat ass. And I asked why do ya do it, and she said “because I want companionship.”

(Dramatic pause by Fleur.)

FLEUR: People eat shit to stave off loneliness. And that's what our story is about.

DACY: You don’t want me to sell a single book, do you?

FLEUR: I hope you never make a nickel.

SOFI: I got ya, Dacy. Another one of my followers just Cash App’d me 300 dollars.

DACY: Princess Tristabelle you’ve been awfully quiet, and your sort of the leader-

FLEUR: Leader? Leader of what?

DUSTY: Of the group, silly.

FLEUR: Silly me. I forgot we voted on that. Oh, wait... we didn’t.

GISELLE (nervous laughter): And we never will because we’re like The Three Musketeers: all for one, one for all! Right, girls?

(Giselle smiles wide waiting for affirmation. Awkwardness ensues. Thankfully Tristabelle breaks the

silence.)

TRISTABELLE: Let the record show I, Tristabelle The Bright Eyed of Clan Elvrina — princess of Golden Land, Jewel of the Realm, Sister of the Goddess Freyja, the Heartbreaker, Arterial Sprayer and Mistress of Mistlewoe — was not “awfully quiet” but rather seated calmly internally screaming.

DACY (laughs): And why, may I ask?

TRISTABELLE: Because violence against the press is generally frowned upon in your country. Misrepresentation is a serious offense in my homeland. This “retelling” of our adventures is far too kind to certain individuals.

FLEUR: *cough* Prince Gorick Asshole. *cough* My dad. Mega asshole. *cough* Dusty. Dumb ass. *cough*

DUSTY: At least I got looks and big knockers, you old hag.

GISELLE: Eeep!

SOFI: Aren’t looks everything? Opens doors and wallets!

DACY: Forgive me, Your Highness, but I must remind you this is just the first of a series of books.

TRISTABELLE: And I remind you, sir, the whistle of a sword cuts sharper than the clack of a keyboard.

(Dacy gulps.)

TRISTABELLE: Now allow me to echo what Dusty has said. Hear this, readers of Beyond Romance, and hear it well! If you do not buy the book, Splendificent, you will be stripped of your lands, your titles, your clothes, and your head in that order. That is how you sell a book.

DACY: I need that money more than ya’ll need that head, for real for real. But we’re out of time. Good talk, ladies!

Buy Links – Better get ‘em out there now, right?

Amazon US:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B081QCN6PL

Amazon UK:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B081QCN6PL

Amazon Canada:

https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B081QCN6PL

Blurb

Lusted over by men, hunted by demons

California girl Giselle Nyfall arrives in the Big Apple to attend Hemera University, but instead of a higher education she finds herself in a dangerous situation when a computer glitch lands her in an Upper East Side penthouse for extraordinary young women. And her sexy new roomies aren’t your ordinary college girls. One is an elf princess with a love for skating and the art of war, the other a B.B. gun toting fairy exiled to the human world for being too violent by her mother — the Tooth Fairy —, a social media obsessed shapeshifter, and finally, a vampire succubus demon with a big gambling problem

Together they uncover a curse which has men in their condo behaving even stranger than usual. And the only cure in this splendidly magnificent tale is…themselves!

Warning: Splendificent is a raunchy, wild comedy intended for mature readers only!

About Dacy Alex

A native of Maryland, Dacy Alex has taken home several screenwriting awards under a different name. He loves the possibilities of the supernatural but also the inherent weirdness of the everyday world and likes to combine the two whenever possible. Dacy likes to focus his stories on new adults, which might explain why he can subsist on a steady diet of CW shows and cans of Starbucks for days at a time.

If you want to contact Dacy he can be reached at: dacyalexandria [at] gmail [dot] com.

 

Visit Dacy on Instagram at roxy_kitten

And check out Dacy’s website: www.dacyalex.com

Brand new! Gumshoe Girl by Andi Ramos (@andiramosauthor) #detective #humor #romance

Blurb

Sheagan O’Hare got more than she bargained for when her newly inherited detective agency lands its first case; a missing person, embezzlement, and murder. Sheagan’s out to prove she can hang with the pro's, despite the constant reminder of her amateur status from an annoyingly attractive FBI agent, Colin 'Mac' MacEvine, who’s forced himself into her life.

How does she feel when an old high school friend hopes to ignite a new romance?

Will she be able to discover if detective work and love can mingle before someone gets hurt?

Buy Links

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2I9M30G

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2Kxo5um

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/gumeshoe-girl/id1376902448

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/820388?ref=cw1985

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/gumeshoe-girl

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/gumeshoe-girl-andi-ramos/1128555736

Excerpt

Sheagan blinked back the sting in her eyes as sweat drizzled from her forehead. Her shoulders and forearms cried out as determination inched her body forward through the tin walls that framed her slender figure. The narrow shaft rendered her legs useless as they dragged behind her like dead weight. She made a vow to start working out as she approached her destination, the metal grate that looked down into the sweetheart suite of the Eliot Hotel.

She shimmied her binoculars out of her bag and clutched them in her sweaty palms as she readied herself to delve into the world of private investigating. The friction of her movements caused her mahogany mane to cling to all the surfaces of her temporary confinement. Perched behind the filigree frame, peering like a caged animal, she was a mere 20 feet from her target. Her target? The Rat Bastard, who up until this very moment she’d called boyfriend.

She wasn’t there to kill him, even though the thought had crossed her mind; no, she was there to catch him in the act. She suspected he had been cheating on her for some time, so proof would end her suspicion or the relationship. Spying on her significant other through an air-vent of a swanky hotel room was hardly a promising start to her so-called glamorous career as a private detective. But it snapped her back into the reality that her new chosen profession would often be messy and difficult.

She peered through the grate and envied the spacious room below, but her viewing angle was no good for the task at hand. She could feel the heat in her cheeks rise along with her anger as she scanned the room and soaked in the extravagance–the hardwood tables, the Italian marble fireplace, the opulent sheen of the fabric on the overstuffed furniture that glimmered in the soft candlelight. The Rat Bastard was not known to overindulge on frivolous expenses, unless it was on her dime. Thoughts of killing him resurfaced.

What is wrong with me? Why did I wait so long?

She immediately regretted the fleeting question. She knew why. The answer brought back the pain and significance of her father’s sudden death. He had been the only family she had left, and he was gone. All that was left behind was his detective agency. She had thought about giving it up, but she couldn’t; it was her only connection to him, to her family.

She closed her eyes briefly, realizing that now she was facing more loss–even if he was a lying, cheating Rat Bastard.

No! It’s better this way, stay focused.

She choked in a breath and turned her attention back to the room. His secret love nest was finished with soothing tones on the walls and thick, plush carpeting.

What is that on the end table?

Her gaze was drawn to the bottle label as it bobbed upside down in the melting ice. She sharpened the focus of her binoculars, and her eyes widened in recognition.

Her cheeks flushed. Cristal, she scoffed. Who is this Bimbo, anyway?

As if she had room to criticize this girl’s intelligence, when Sheagan was the one sweating her makeup off in a four-by-four-foot air-duct.

Yeah, who’s the stupid one?

She heard passionate sounds coming from the right of the room and recognized his tone. Leaning sideways, Sheagan pressed her face to the grate, but her limited view revealed only a portion of the bed and unable to make out major details, like faces.

Crap, I can’t see anything. Damn! She needed to get a better look

As she shifted her weight, the metal walls started to reverberate and Sheagan stifled a gasp, willing the rumbling to cease. Her breathing became labored as the musty air stole the aroma of the sweet perfume wafting up waft from the suite below. She stilled her movements and did the only thing she could think of... nothing. Nothing but stare at the heap of blankets and wait.

Come on, bimbo, come up for air. I know he doesn’t last that long.

Her discomfort increased as the noise from their passion became more intense. 

Ugh, that’s it,

I’ve had it!

She mashed her cheek and upper body against the grate.

I just need a peek to confirm.

She pressed harder, ogling the bed. Finally, she caught a tiny glimpse.

Just a little further.

She pushed and heard a chirring sound, then a scraping. She froze in place, but the grate gave way with a creaking groan and crashed to the ground. Time stood still as Sheagan realized there was nothing between her and the floor except air.

About the Author

Andi Ramos is a debut author from central Massachusetts where she lives with her family, goat, and Boston Terriers. Her love for reading grew into a passion for writing. She dabbled with pen and paper for a long time and eventually stopped pushing her amusements aside and started developing those stories into novels. One of her favorite things to do is to hop into her motorhome with her family and write while traveling down the road as they journey to various destinations.

Website: http://www.andiramos.com

Blog: http://www.andiramos.com/blog

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/andiramosauthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/andiramosauthor

Release blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.

Stocking Stuffer -- #romcom #holidayromance #guestblogger

By Tim Smith (Guest Blogger)

We have once again survived the Christmas season, that time of year when romance mingles with the mistletoe. I’m not sure what it is about the holidays and romance, but every year, we’re overloaded with holiday-themed books and TV movies that appeal to the heart. Some are dramatic or sentimental, while some are more lighthearted.

I recently released one of my own through Extasy Books. My newest offering is called Santa Slept Here, and if you can’t guess it from the title, this falls into the category of romantic comedy.

Here’s the blurb:

Scott Burke wasn’t looking forward to spending his first Christmas alone after his divorce. His family was scattered over different parts of the country, his friends had plans, and he didn’t really want to partake of the annual community Christmas dinner with strangers. Add to that a general malaise he was feeling about a career that was going nowhere and you had all of the elements for a miserable holiday. A chance meeting with a former classmate on Christmas Eve changes things, when Scott runs into Lisa Berger, stranded on her way home due to a car breakdown. Can the two high school friends rekindle a flame that died out years ago, or will they say Auld Lang Syne when the holiday is over?

This is a fun little story about two people who were besties in high school, but with a twist. Scott had a crush on Lisa, the most popular girl in his class, but he could never work up the nerve to ask her for a date. Through a twist of fate and circumstance, they’re brought together fifteen years later and given another chance. I was drawn to the idea like I am with so many of my other stories. I thought

“What if these two old friends just happened to run into each other on Christmas Eve and decided to throw caution to the wind?”

Here’s a brief excerpt:

Scott surfed through the channels until he found a holiday music special. They watched it for a few minutes before Lisa spoke.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

She shifted to face him, then cradled her wine glass in her hands. “What you said before about not having the nerve to ask me out when we were in school. Were you really that shy or didn’t you find me attractive?”

Scott took a sip of wine while composing the proper response in his mind. If I say no, that wouldn’t be honest. On the other hand, if I tell her how hot I always thought she was, she may slap me. Here goes.

“Lisa, I always thought you were one of the prettiest girls in our class, and you don’t know how badly I wanted to be with you. I was just too shy to do anything about it.”

“Even though we were friends?”

“I was always afraid you’d turn me down.”

She gave a playful smile. “Hmm, that’s interesting. When you say you wanted to

be with me, what does that mean?”

He looked into her eyes. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh. Did you mean be with me as in ‘Let’s go to a movie’, or did you mean ‘I’d like to rip your clothes off and bang your brains out’?”

Scott placed his palm on her neck under her long mane of hair. “I always thought you were the hottest girl in school, and I would’ve banged your brains out if I hadn’t been such a nice guy.”

She nodded slowly. “Honesty. I like that. Would it surprise you if I said that I would’ve let you do it?”

His eyebrows arched and his pulse picked up a few beats. “You would?”

Lisa traced a light pattern along his thigh with her fingertip while giving him a smoldering look. “Yeah. I always thought you were cute and funny, and I didn’t think you were an awkward geek.”

* * *

If you like watching the romantic holiday movies with a light comic touch on Lifetime, WE, or the Hallmark Channel, you’ll like “Santa Slept Here.” I’ll give you fair warning that it contains some sensual erotic scenes, but it’s all part of the natural flow of the story. Enjoy!

* * *

Tim Smith is an award-winning, bestselling author of romantic mystery/thrillers and contemporary erotic romance. His website is www.timsmithauthor.com.

Relatively Crazy by Ellen Dye -- #romcom #family #giveaway

Blurb

On her fortieth birthday housewife Wanda Jo Ashton is expecting her husband's standard gift of an E and E from T-that being Elegant and Expensive from Tiffany's. However, what she gets is the news that her formerly successful, dependable corporate attorney husband is leaving her to pursue the rich life of a kept man. Left with nothing she has no choice but to escape the San Francisco area, with her sixteen-year-old daughter in tow and head toward the mountains of West Virginia and the quirky family she left behind twenty years ago. Here Wanda Jo must carve out a future, complete with career and home in the midst of family feuds, computer phobias and the occasional homebrewing explosion before she finally figures out life can indeed being again at forty.

Excerpt

Okay, there is was. Looking no different than twenty-two years ago. A small opening in the woods marked by a gray, metal, utilitarian mailbox and a graveled trail that passed for a driveway in these parts.

I was home. Oh God help me. Please.

I depressed the brake pedal, leaving behind the paved surface and tried not to wince as what sounded like millions of tiny gravel bits pinged against the underside of my car.

The azaleas lining the drive still looked the same. The one at the very end caught my attention, I could have sworn it jiggled. Oh no, it couldn’t be. Surely it was impossible now.

Suddenly the bush jumped in front of the car.

I slammed on the brakes, pinning Olivia to the seat with my outstretched arm. In the fashion of mothers everywhere I was protecting my offspring from flying through the windshield by crushing her windpipe while invoking the Maternal Arm.

I looked toward the hood and the half-dozen bobbing azalea twigs in front. I sat resolved as they rose and were followed by an old pith helmet and a face which looked a bit older than I’d remembered, although it was hard to tell precisely, given the layers of green and black greasepaint. A body followed, dressed in a set of ancient Army –issued fatigues.

“Gun,” Olivia croaked, pointing.

I simply nodded, there would be plenty of time later for my daughter to find out exactly what was swimming around in the waters of the gene pool from whence she’d sprung.

About the Author

At the age of nine Ellen Dye decided she was going to be a writer when she found her Aunt Nettie’s trunk of True Confessions magazines and spent untold hours reading the lot, a bag of Munchos potato chips and a frosty RC Cola at her side. Then, being nine, she promptly forgot all about it as she got lost in the pesky business of growing up, And then one very lucky day she spotted a confession magazine on the grocery store shelf and began to tap out her own stories which were a delight to see published. Now she spends her days tapping out her characters’ happily-ever-afters for The Wild Rose Press.

Visit anytime at www.ellendye.com

Ellen is always up for meeting new friends at Ellen Dye Author on Facebook

Amazon sale link

https://www.amazon.com/Relatively-Crazy-Ellen-Dye-ebook/dp/B076GNYR8X/

Ellen Dye will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Review Tuesday: The Gueschtunkina Ray Gun by @SpencerDryden (#reviewtuesday #eroticromance #humor)

The Gueschtunkina Ray Gun by Spencer Dryden

Excessica, 2017

Can a mild-mannered PhD student save humanity from a terrible future of domination by sexually frustrated females?

Just the premise of Spencer Dryden’s newly released short story, The Gueschtunkina Ray Gun, makes me smile. The book itself had me laughing out loud.

Alex Bennet is a typical grad student—living in a cheap apartment, surviving on burgers and beer, slaving away for the professors who hold his fate in their hands. When a midget-sized visitor from the future materializes in his one-room efficiency, claiming that only Alex can prevent the disastrous collapse of human society, he’s inclined to be skeptical. However, one test of the Gueschtunkina Ray Gun provided by the time-traveler is enough to change his mind.

The gun has the power to engender overwhelming sexual arousal in any woman subjected to its rays. Alex is the beneficiary of this transformation, much to his delight. Still, while overcoming the resistance of an already-flirtatious waitress might be straightforward, what are Alex’s chances of seducing the most frigid, ball-busting woman on the planet—fellow academic Dr. Lilith Bendershoot? Yet that’s his assignment. Lilith holds the keys to the decline of the human race. If Alex doesn’t soften her up, the male of the species is doomed to shriveled impotency and the female to millennia of sterile authority.

This story is darned near perfect. It’s clever and original, while demonstrating Spencer Dryden’s signature adoration of everything womanly. When I’d finished, I wished there were more; yet making the tale any longer would have spoiled it.

The Gueschtunkina Ray Gun is a warm-hearted, sexy comic gem. Highly recommended!

Weird Dreams and the Birth of the Hot Squad (#erotica #comedy #nsfw)

By Dacy Alexandria (Guest Blogger)

Firstly I'd like to thank Lisabet for hosting my little bit of rambling that will hopefully entice you to read my new book Giselle and The HotSquad, published by eXcessica.

Apparently I have super weird dreams compared to the rest of humanity. For instance, I once dreamed I was getting a divorce from Kristen Stewart, and in the middle of court we were attacked by Nazi robots and were forced to rekindle our love to fend them off. Another weird dream was about a thirty year old woman who had to go to Italy to sort through her dead mother's remains and found many a magical object. This dream is the reason I'm with you on this lovely day. Unlike my team up with Miss Stewart I wasn't motivated to marathon Twilight, instead I was spurred on to write a supernatural movie script.

The age of the woman got brought down to eighteen, because being surrounded by eighteen and nineteen year olds in my ballet classes I knew them like they knew the best IG filters. The script was shifted from Italy to California, and the magically charged main character, then named Kate soon to be renamed Giselle, was given four super heroine friends and a vicious witch for foe. I thought I had a blockbuster on my hands. I was going to get this movie made easy peasy, be invited to many Hollywood bashes, and maybe just maybe use the Nazi robot dream story to hit on Kristen Stewart. I'm smooth like that, see me for my Pick Up Artist classes.

I took the script to a consultant named Melody Jackson, who happens to be a lovely woman. I had worked with her before on an award winning script I wrote, and she told me this one was hilarious, and had her not just writing LOL but literally LOL. Perhaps even LMAO? However, while Melody loved the script she thought the story would make a fantastic series of books, and convinced me to go that route.

I linked up with the awesome editor Elaine Ash and she helped me craft a novel with these cast of characters. The novel was supposed to be a procession of wild supernatural action. But then I wrote just a tiny scene where this petite hot-head, Dusty fondled the main character Giselle, and Elaine was floored. She declared that I had a gift for writing erotica and had to turn this into a erotic comedy. If there's three things I like, its sex, beautiful women, and wild jokes, and so like well trained Pokemon, Giselle and The Hot Squad evolved.

Giselle

I think the funnest part of writing the story wasn't the wild sex, but is was changing the four girls besides Giselle from the script into her three dimensional roomies. I love Disney princesses so I got Princess Tristian Anna Maria Gunnarson, a figure skating, exotic dancing, sword swing royal from the country of Gyllengaard. I wanted a tough take no shit tomboy to counter Tristen's good breeding and developed the rocker chick Fleur. In the spirit of the eternal human quest to be the god of social media and my love of gingers, I created Sofi. Finally after my trip to Nashville to see Taylor Swift in concert (OMG!) where I found everyone is just darling and wonderful, I wanted Giselle to have the only rude person from Nashville at her side and little Dusty was born. 

Tristan

Fleur

I do very much hope you'll enjoy the story as much I enjoyed writing it. I was actually going through a severe illness during its creation, so I'm just happy to actually have it out and be able to speak with you. And if you like the book and get a laugh I'll be even happier!

Blurb

It's the start of Giselle Nyfall's freshman year at the prestigious liberal arts school Drouin University in Manhattan. From the moment this well endowed innocent bounces in from Los Angeles, things go awry. A housing mix-up denies her a dorm and forces her to spend the first night in a male dorm with a cute but talkative conspiracy theorist. Only the instincts of a true exhibitionist earn Giselle some sleep. Thanks to the wicked temptress that heads student services, Giselle lands a living place much better than a freshman dorm: an upper east side condo! Giselle finds her roommates a strange oversexed lot, a rocker chick from Boston, a true blue princess, a vain Instagram starlet, and BB gun toting southern belle. Even weirder are the men of the condo complex, who appear to be placed under a devastating sex caused curse! The girls put aside their differences and throw themselves boobs first into a solution that probably won't get mentioned in any graduation speech.

Excerpt

Finally, the tour of the condo concludes with the not so grand finale of Giselle's room. The storage closet.

“The master suite.” Fleur's wide sexy lips form a wicked grin.

“What's in that box down there? Oh my god, is that a butt plug?"

“The ginger bitch keeps hers in here. It can go up your ass, but it can't go in your dresser drawer?”

Ginger bitch? Butt plug stored like it's a spare bottle of Windex? Add that to the thong/boy short rule, the BB gun, and it all equals an even more confused Giselle Nyfall. What kind of oversexed zoo did Anika banish her to?

“I can't stay in this room. It's a closet.”

“Its classically cozy.”

“There's no bed, and there's a butt plug.”

“Pretend you're sleeping in a Hustler store.”

“No one sleeps in the Hustler store! People do not sleep next to butt plugs! This is nuts. There has to be some mistake.”

“I'm starting to think your parents may have made one.”

Giselle stomps past Fleur down the hall to the living room.

“FLEUR TROUBADOUR, YOUR IRRATIONAL HARRASSENT OF THIS YOUNG LADY SHALL CEASE AT ONCE,” says another voice. This one has a silvery quality. Fleur shrinks.

“Shit," she hisses at Giselle. "You got Viking Barbie on my ass.”

“Viking Barbie?”

Viking Barbie appears, carried in by long, gorgeous powerful legs that reach up to a slender waist and a rock-hard ass. Beneath a luxurious frilled-sleeve shirt a pair of pendulous breasts fill out the floral pattern. Bright red lips form in a cupid's bow, resting above a rounded chin and square jaw. Her hair has been fussed over into a blond bob of rolling waves. The way she looks, the way she walks, the air around her seems like slow motion. If Fleur is a doll under a Christmas tree, then Viking Barbie is a goddess blessing The Empire State.

“Welcome, Giselle. My name is Tristen.” Deep-set almond eyes appraise the newcomer. “If Fleur had only bothered to check her text messages, she would have known you were coming and spared herself exposure as a wretched bore. Yet, I am obliged to think her a fool for not simply directing you the fifth bedroom Come. I shall show you.”

Tristen leads the way to the room next to the storage closest.

“My baddies, I opened the wrong door,” Fleur says with a halfhearted shrug.

The grey infused bedroom reminds Giselle of Anika's silver hair. Nearly everything is shades of grey. The accent rug, cushioned seats, a side table, are all one color scheme.

As happy as she is to have a real room, Giselle is distracted. “I know you. I've seen you on TV before!” Giselle exclaims to the tall blond.

“Commoners often recognize royalty. I am Princess Tristen Maria Anna Gunnarsson, of the Gunnarsson royal family of Gyllengard.”

About Me

Dacy Alexandria is an erotic fiction author that has also taken home several screen writing awards under a different name at the Los Angeles Reel Film Festival and SkyFest, and happens to be a trained ballerina. He loves the possibilities of the supernatural but also the inherent weirdness of the everyday world and likes to combine the two whenever possible. Dacy likes to focus his erotica on new adults, which might explain why he can subsist on a steady diet of CW shows and cans of Starbucks double shot for days at a time.

http://dacyalex.tumblr.com (18+ only please!)

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100013426205341

 

Buy Links

Amazon USA

Amazon UK

Barnesand Noble

 

Review Tuesday: The House of Fox (#comedy #erotica #bawdy @SJSmithAuthor)

The House of Fox by S.J. Smith

Sinful Press, 2016

On a typical Saturday night, four friends go out on the town, drinking and dancing, flirting and fighting. Well, they’re not exactly friends. Donna and Dylan have known each other forever, and Donna harbors a fierce, hopeless attraction for her egotistical childhood companion, but he’s too busy seducing Jane, a shy redhead who works with Donna, to pay any attention. Donna is stuck with her boring, sycophantic boyfriend Frank. Frank and Dylan loathe one another. Tensions rise, tempers flare, and the group disintegrates, each member going off alone, only to encounter a curvaceous, provocatively dressed blond who promises a much better time.

The next thing they know, Donna, Dylan, Jane and Frank find themselves in a pornographic purgatory called the House of Fox. Its endless corridors are lined with randomly numbered rooms which provide entry to scenes of perversion and sexual excess worthy of Hieronymous Bosch. Presiding over this dreamlike — and sometimes nightmarish — domain is the voluptuous, domineering Kitty, who both fulfills forbidden fantasies and punishes any attempts at rebellion. She reveals that they all died that fateful Saturday night, that they’re trapped for eternity in the House where their primary role is to entertain the Great Voyeur, and that failure to satisfy will result in their being cast into the fires of Hell.

Each member of the quartet reacts differently. Dylan becomes determined to escape, but gets distracted when the House instantiates his rock star fantasies. Frank slips into infantilism and madness. Donna becomes increasingly cynical and fatalistic, despite her attraction to the mysterious Giovanni. Previously virginal Jane, who has always believed herself to be unattractive and incompetent, blooms in the atmosphere of unbridled carnality. She attracts Miss Kitty’s attention and becomes the Domme’s protegée, apprentice and sexual partner.

The remainder of the 260 odd pages chronicles the various plots and counter plots as each character deals with the diabolical House of Fox in his or her own way. Sometimes the logic doesn’t make much sense (or at least, it didn’t to me), but that doesn’t matter all that much. In the book, as in the House of Fox, the focus is mostly on the wild behavior of the inhabitants. S.J. Fox describes the goings on with obvious glee — double, triple, quadruple penetrations; fellatio and cunnilingus; spankings and other erotic discipline; milk enemas, pussy ping pong and beaver baseball. When it comes to sex, this novel is truly over the top. It’s also hilarious at times. The lyrics of the songs Dylan sings to his adoring fans are particularly funny.

I found myself reminded of the erotic works by another Smith: the legendary Thorne Smith, who wrote in the 1920s. I still remember reading Night Life of the Gods and Turnabout in my teens. (I was precocious!) The House of Fox is more explicit, but is similar in its bawdy irreverence and its humor.

In general, S.J. Smith does a wonderful job bringing his scenes to life. He captures the dream-like fluidity of HOF, the way an entire world can be hidden behind a door, or a room can transform in an instant from a luxurious hotel suite to a bare concrete cell. The book is very visual. I can imagine it would make an excellent X-rated comic or animation.

Furthermore, the novel includes the best description of Hell I’ve ever encountered. The author had me shuddering at the vivid descriptions of the Underworld’s horrors. In these chapters, the humor became very black indeed.

Despite all the sexual activity in this book, I would not call it erotic. It’s all too extreme, too unrealistic. The novel is, however, sublimely naughty, and might well tempt you to emulate some of shenanigans going on in the HOF. It’s the sort of book you’d read under the covers, when your parents think you’re asleep, and then whisper about to your friends.