Showing posts with label multiracial erotic romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label multiracial erotic romance. Show all posts

Sunday, February 5, 2017

Sunday Snog / New Release: Divided We Fall (#multiracial #charity #kiss)



I’m showcasing my newest book today, a 7500 word short story entitled Divided We Fall. I wrote this piece in reaction to the flood of hate and prejudice we seem to be drowning in these days. All proceeds from this book support Planned Parenthood, who provide essential health services to women, especially impoverished women, in the US and around the world.

Since this is a Sunday, I’ve got a brief kiss excerpt for you, as part of Victoria’s Sunday Snog blog hop. I will also donate $1 to Planned Parenthood for every comment I get on this post.

When you’re done here, I hope you’ll head back to the Sunday Snog launching page, for more sexy kisses.

Blurb

Hate takes too high a toll

Linhs three year old brother has wandered out of Viet Village into Niggertown. Despite the danger, she has no choice but to go looking for him in hostile territory. She manages to convince the rifle-toting guard at the entrance to the black ghetto to help her search, using a mixture of bribery and bravado. As they comb the desolate streets of Niggertown, seeking any trace of Duy, Linh discovers that the barrios inhabitants arent necessarily the violent, drug-addled brutes shes been taught to hate, and by the time Linh and Steel have rescued the injured toddler and spent a long night hiding in a derelict building, she has come to understand who are their real enemies.

Please note: This book includes racial slurs that might not be considered acceptable by some readers. Using these terms was deliberate, and necessary, since they are symptoms of the inter-group prejudice and suspicion that provide the main conflict in this story.

Snog Excerpt

It feels natural to move from eating to kissing. Giggling like kids, we lick the jerky grease from each other’s lips. His are full and plump, softer than Hai’s, but his stubble scratches my cheeks in a way no Viet man’s ever would. I seal his mouth with mine, tasting the sweet-tart remnants of his tomatoes. He threads his fingers through my hair, tugging at the roots while he consumes me. Each strand is a fuse, lighting firecrackers in my pussy.

I open to his probing tongue and give him control, at least for a while. Steel plunges deeper, thrusting hard, fucking me already though we’re still dressed. The thought arouses me so much I take back the initiative. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I use my weight to push him back onto the piled bedding. My lips slide away from his. I lap at his prickly chin, nibble along his jawline, plant tiny kisses at the pulse point of his throat. Gradually I work my way down his hairless, sticky chest, tasting tomato juice and sweat. When I run my tongue along the scar, he groans and grabs my ass, arching up to grind his swollen bulk against my clit. That makes me moan, at least until he flips me over and silences me with more kisses.

Hands in the darkness—my hands, his hands—fumble with zippers, claw at waistbands, shred the fabric we can’t push out of the way. Finally, there’s skin and heat and hardness, his cock an apt fit to his name, sliding into my liquid center. He moves like a vast wave, surging, cresting, breaking inside me, then gathering power once again. I rock on the swell of his relentless, delicious rhythm. Sometimes I drift, letting the pleasure sweep me out to sea. Sometimes I fight, gasping for breath, drowning in raw sensation.

Get your copy






So leave me a comment. Tell me what you think we can do to stem the tide of hate. I’ll donate a dollar to PPA for each person who joins the conversation.


Sunday, March 9, 2014

Sunday Snog #116: Monsoon Fever

Better late than never, right? Here's my snog for this week, from my M/M/F ménage story, Monsoon Fever. I was thinking about this book because I'm working on a blog post about romance and weather, and this tale uses extreme weather as a background for extreme desire.

Divine temptation lies in wait in an ancient and mysterious land.

In their first years together, Priscilla and Jonathan enjoyed a marriage based as much on physical passion as on love. However, the travails of business and the tribulations of the Great War have taken their toll. When Jon's father dies in faraway India, the couple travels to the father's isolated Assamese tea plantation to settle his affairs. Far from the bustle and distraction of London, left alone to endure the monsoon rains while Jon struggles to complete the final harvest, Priscilla realises how much she misses Jon's touch.

Anil Kumar arrives with business documents for Jon to examine. The charismatic native enchants both Priscilla and Jon with his god-like beauty and charm. In separate incidents, each of them succumbs to Anil's lustful attentions. Will the illicit desires excited by the handsome Indian be the final stroke that destroys their marriage? Or the route to saving it?

Don't forget to visit Snog Central (http://blissekiss.co.uk) for more luscious lip locks!


Anil took her hand to lead her through the throng. Somehow, this seemed completely natural. “This temple is sacred to Sati, the wife of the Lord Shiva. When her father insulted her husband, the goddess committed suicide. Shiva, in anger and desperation, danced the Tandeva to destroy the world. The other gods sought to calm his fury, and in the ensuing struggle, Sati’s corpse was accidentally cut into dozens of pieces. Her yoni —her female organ—fell here on Neelachal Parbat.” 
 

He led her to one of the smaller buildings, through a low arch and into a cave-like interior. The only light came from a few smoky lamps. Coming from the bright outdoors, Priscilla could see little at first, but she heard the burble of flowing water.


“We believe that this spring is her yoni —the holy sex of the great Mother. At certain times of the year, the waters run red, and then we know that the goddess is fertile. Some say that those who dare to bathe in the spring gain the gift of bestowing ecstasy. If you are a man, your penis will become like the bull’s; if you are a woman, your sex will become so velvety and supple that mere entrance will bring your man to his crisis.”

Priscilla’s face grew hot with embarrassment. How could a near stranger speak to her of these things? Still, his words aroused her unbearably. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, gentle and provocative, and she imagined him stroking the folds of flesh curled between her thighs. She stood beside him, gazing into the sacred spring, powerless to take back her hand or to protest this unseemly intimacy in this heathen sanctuary.

He lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. “You are as lovely as a goddess, Priscilla.” His mouth claimed her, his tongue more insolent than his fingers had been. One arm slid around her waist and pulled her body against his. She melted into him, grateful that she no longer had to resist her own desires.

Through the fine wool of his tailored trousers, she felt the hardness that testified to his own need. Panic and lust fought within her. I am a married woman, she wanted to cry out, but his lips played upon hers and stopped her voice. His hands roamed freely over her body, massaging her buttocks, cupping her breasts, fingering the tight nubs of flesh that poked so obviously through the fabric of her blouse. He strayed to the damp crease between her thighs. She moaned into his spice-flavoured mouth, urging him on to more brazen explorations. He began to unfasten the first of the buttons that closed her skirt.

All at once, thunder cracked around them. Lightning flashed outside the arched door, momentarily blinding her. She smelled sulfur and charred wood.

Anil broke the kiss, looking around them, “Oh dear. It sounds as though the rain I predicted has arrived.” Another fierce peal of thunder echoed through the stone buildings. Priscilla cringed. “I think that perhaps we should head back. Come.”

Priscilla was simultaneously disappointed and relieved. She smoothed her skirt and ran her fingers through her curls, then followed Anil out into the courtyard. The rain had not yet begun, but the sky was a roiling mass of black clouds. Another lightning bolt lanced across the horizon, turning the clouds a livid purple.

Maybe the gods had intervened, to save her from herself. Or maybe they were angry at her faithlessness.

Sunday, February 2, 2014

Sunday Snog #111: Rough Weather

Of course I'm celebrating my new release Rough Weather this Sunday. My interracial paranormal erotic romance is available now from Totally Bound.

The kiss in this snippet is pretty brief, but I love the lead in!

Leave me a comment and I'll add you to my contest from last Friday. You could win a copy of Hot Spell, the sequel to Rough Weather. If you already commented on Friday's post, this give's you a second chance.

When you're done here, head over to Victoria's place for more sensational Sunday Snogs.


He drank deeply, swallowing half the contents of his glass. Ondine half-drained hers then refilled them both. 

His eyes glittered in the dimness. She’d skipped the fluorescent fixture overhead, contenting herself with the weaker light above the sink. Power radiated from his muscular form. It beat against her in palpable waves, lowering her resistance. She imagined him dashing the table to splinters, tearing her clothes from her limbs and trapping her with the irresistible strength of those dark arms. She saw them rising together into the sky, his mouth glued to hers and his cock lodged in her pussy. The wind wailed around them, as it had in her dream, while he plunged deeper, ever deeper…

She closed her eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the visions. They faded as she focused her attention on the flow of her breath and the tap of raindrops against the window.

Is something wrong, pitit?”

In his broad-featured face, she read friendly concern and unrelenting desire. She swallowed the remainder of her wine and shook her head. A delightful warmth flowed from her chest to her extremities. Despite her wariness, she realised that she was enjoying Marut’s company.

No…um…just a hint of dizziness. I’m okay now. So you…um…you can fly?”

Marut chuckled. “Actually, I have a pilot’s license. My Cessna’s parked at the airport. But yes. Sometimes, especially when I’m in the grip of strong emotion, the air will carry me where I want to go.”

And what other powers do you have?”

I can call storms—or calm them. Create a local whirlwind. Gather clouds and trigger lightning bolts…”

Seems that clouds should be my responsibility, don’t you think? Since they’re water vapour and all.” Ondine giggled, then blushed at her silliness. Her intoxication was due at least as much to his presence as to the wine. She wanted him. She couldn’t deny it. She was dying to touch him again, to have him touch her. How long would he keep her waiting?

I have no idea what determines the limits of my abilities or yours. But I’m certain, from what Mambo Marie taught me and from my own studies, that we’re far more powerful together than on our own.”

You’ve said that before.” She rose, a bit unsteady on her feet, and circled to his side of the table. “But how do you know?” His closeness made her ache with need. Did she dare take the next step? Could she bear more of that awful intensity that had seized them that morning?

Marut pushed his chair back so that he was standing as well, but he still refrained from any physical contact. Far taller than she was, he towered over her, so that she felt small and vulnerable. His sleek, dark skin gleamed like polished jet. A musky fragrance surrounded him, laced with hints of frangipani and ozone. Lust knotted her nipples and flooded her sex.

Don’t play with me, Ondine.” His voice was serious, even solemn. “You know it too. You’re drawn to me, inevitably and irresistibly. Since time began, we’ve been destined mates.”

He reached for her and she leaned in towards his questing fingers, but he aborted the gesture before they reached her skin. Instead, he tugged at his own wild hair. “I’ll keep my promise, though. I won’t touch you until you ask.”

Desire swelled in her, rising until the dam broke. “Please, Marut!” She flung herself against him, desperate now, and unashamed. Power sizzled through her at the first brush of flesh on flesh. “Take me. Show me who you are. Who we are.”

His lips were silken-smooth upon her own. “Most gladly, pitit.” Gathering her into his arms, he lifted her as though she were light as thistledown and headed for the stairs to the second floor. “But you must trust me completely.”

Overwhelmed by sensation, astonished by his strength, she could barely manage a whisper of assent.