The wait is almost over... #newrelease #erotica #humor @Archer_Larry

 

The third book in my Vegas Babes series, Sin City Sweethearts, is now available for pre-order! It will be out next Wednesday, the 23^rd of January. Why not go reserve your copy now, so you can dive into my wild, funny pan-sexual romp as soon as it becomes available?

The book features an introduction by Larry Archer, since like the previous installments in the series it’s set in the universe he created. When I shared an advanced reader copy with him, he commented:

Have I created a monster with you? It sure looks like I've rubbed off on you but this story is beyond great!

(Blush...)

Whatever sorts of erotic situations turn you on, you’ll likely find them in this book. Lesbian, gay and straight sex, blowjobs, cunnilingus, strap-ons, anal, DP, spanking, bondage... There are strippers and coeds, a six-foot tall dominant lady professor and a horny track coach, a pair of lascivious ex-hippies, four hunky cowboy brothers, and of course Foxy and Larry themselves, owners of The Fox’s Den gentleman’s club. I promise a happy ending for everyone!

Here’s a quick snippet to whet your appetite. You’ll find the pre-order links below.

A tall, fair-haired beauty with a lush ass and perfect, natural breasts practically danced over to their table. Compared to the women on stage, she wore a lot of clothes—a tight, sparkling jersey with a plunging neckline, a tiny denim skirt and four inch stilettos—but they did nothing to conceal her charms.

“Hi,” she said. “What would you like?”

“Peaches? Why aren’t you up on stage?” Annie asked.

“What—oh, Annie! Sorry, didn’t recognize you for a minute. Great to see you!” The blonde threw her arms around Annie’s neck, fastening her ripe lips on Annie’s and mashing their tits together. Annie’s pulse, already elevated from Larry’s kiss and the scenes in the parking lot, soared into the stratosphere. Knowing Peaches wouldn’t mind, she palmed the other woman’s butt cheeks and thrust her tongue into Peaches’ mouth. The stripper followed suit, grabbing Annie’s ass to pull her closer so they could rub pussies.

“Oh, God, that feels so good!” Annie gasped, electric thrills sparking from her clit to her nipples and back. Encouraged, Peaches slid both hands under Annie’s skirt and smoothed her palms over the bare globes she found there. Without thinking, Annie spread her legs and arched her back. The fair-haired temptress wriggled her fingers under Annie’s brief thong and into her wet snatch.

“Oooh!” Annie wailed as the other girl pumped her hole while grinding against her clit. A climax barreled through her like a runaway freight train, flattening everything its path. Pleasure lit her up like neon on the Strip. Forgetting everything but her need, she clutched at the other girl’s body, riding the impudent fingers still buried in her cunt and chasing another come.

Peaches removed one hand. Annie moaned in protest, then screamed as the stripper pushed two cunt-slicked fingers into her ass. The club flickered and vanished, drowned by the torrent of exquisite sensation crashing through her body.

When she came to her senses, Annie was sprawled in one of the seats behind the table. Her thighs were sticky and her clit tingled. A hot blush climbed into her cheeks as she realized what a spectacle she’d just made of herself. However, when she looked around, she found the clientele mostly focused on the stage, where three nude young ladies—a plump blonde, a busty redhead and a willowy Asian beauty—gyrated to the Stones “You’ve Got Me Rockin’”.

Closer to home, Marcie and Maddy were grinning like cats after a five course canary dinner. They didn’t seem the least bit shocked. Meanwhile, Peaches stood watching them, waiting for their order as if nothing had happened.

“You okay, hon?” she asked. “You want a glass of wine? Or a margarita?”

“Just water, please,” Annie responded, a bit hoarse from yelling.

“Red wine for me, please,” said Maddy.

“Me too,” her sister added.

“I won’t be more than a minute or two,” said Peaches. She sauntered off toward the bar, licking pussy and ass juice off her fingers.

The wave of embarrassment that swept through Annie’s body battled with rekindled lust. Perhaps when the blonde came back, Annie could return the favor. Her earlier groping had suggested Peaches’ pussy was bare under that little mini.

“This place is wild,” Marcie said. She threw her arm around her sister’s shoulder. “Maddy, we’re not in Ely anymore!”

Reserve your copy today!

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07MQVSWCH

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07MQVSWCH

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/917885

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sin-city-sweethearts-lisabet-sarai/1130204032?ean=2940155941880

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/43594528-sin-city-sweethearts

Tell Me You Love Me (Sunday Snog #210)

Less than a week before the release of The Gazillionaire and the Virgin! I can hardly think about anything else! So of course my Sunday Snog today is another snippet from the book, for your delectation. The kiss doesn't last long, but there's enough heat and heart here to satisfy the most dedicated romantic.

Once you've read my snog, head back to Victoria's Sunday Snog signup page for links to lots more sexy kisses!

On the long cab ride from Greenpoint to the upper West Side, we make out in the back seat like teenagers. Theo’s mouth on mine is hungry and demanding. His hands wander in a slow dance over my breasts and along the curve of my hips, as though he’s caressing me for the first time. He clutches me to his chest, pulls me into his lap, grinds his hardness into my bottom. All the while he continues to steal my breath with his fierce kisses.

I’m on fire. I want his touch on my bare skin, his fingers probing my deepest recesses, but when I try to draw his hand up under my top or between my legs, he slaps mine away. Those slaps only kindle a more ferocious need. By the time we’ve made it back to our suite, I’m practically dissolving, so wet I make squelching sounds when I walk.

Taking my hand, he leads me through the sitting area, with its thirtieth story view of glittering Manhattan, to the palatial bedroom.

“Don’t move,” he orders. “I’m going to undress you.”

He circles behind me to unzip my skirt. The garment slips over my hips to the floor. Next he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my tights and rolls the clingy material down to my ankles. I imagine him using the elastic garment to bind me—it would be well-suited to that task—but he seems intent only on rendering me naked.

“Step out of your shoes. That’s right.” He extricates first one foot and then the other from my hosiery, and tosses the tangled garment away. “Arms over your head,” he commands. In a matter of seconds, my sweater has joined my other clothing on the floor.

He pauses for a moment, apparently to admire me in my state of semi-nudity. My swollen nipples distort the lace of my bra. My sodden panties bunch between my legs. Though I know it’s forbidden, I tense my thighs, seeking some friction to relieve the terrible, pulsing ache between them.

“Be still!” I hope he’ll slap my ass as punishment for my infraction, but there’s only his verbal reprimand.

“Can’t you speed up a bit, Theo?” His fingers brush my back as he unfastens the bra hooks. Electric currents zap my sex. I moan. “I’m desperate for you.”

“That’s good. That’s the way I want you.”

My panties are so wet that they stick to my skin. He chuckles as he removes them. “You’re such a horny slut. I love it.”

“Please, sir…I can’t bear much more.”

Ignoring my plea, he stands back to survey the results of his efforts. “Clasp your hands at the back of your neck. Now don’t move. Ah yes! Perfect!”

As I stand there, nude, exposed and hungry, he seats himself on the bed, unzips his fly, and extracts his cock. It juts up from his lap, huge and hard, drooling pre-cum. I’d die for a taste, but I understand he plans to make me wait. He runs his hand lazily up and down the veined shaft, grinning like some feline after an avian snack.

“You’re so beautiful. You’re a dream come true. Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real. Any minute, I expect to wake up in my apartment, alone and horny. Totally lost.”

His mood shifts. His voice hitches in a near sob. “I don’t think I could bear that, Rachel. I love you so much…” Then he’s on his feet, holding me close, his starched shirt grazing my nipples, his cock leaving wet trails on my belly. “Tell me you love me,” he murmurs close to my ear, his embrace so tight I can scarcely breathe. “Even if it’s a lie. I need to hear it.”

A Peek at The Gazillionaire and the Virgin (Sunday Snog #207)

I’ve got a treat for you today, a first peek at my upcoming BDSM erotic romance novel, The Gazillionaire and the Virgin. The book comes out on the 29^th of January, and I’m planning all sorts of festivities to celebrate the release (including lots of prizes, of course!)

Wondering what the book’s about? Here’s the blurb.

Trust can’t be bought—it has to be earned

When Silicon Valley entrepreneur Rachel Zelinsky meets reclusive genius Theo Moore, she finds him strangely compelling. Theo is both arrogant and socially awkward, but he has an aura of power that speaks to Rachel’s carefully-hidden submissive side. Disturbed and aroused, she tries to focus on her original objective—a deal to incorporate his Artificial Intelligence software into her company’s popular virtual world. Rachel’s not the sort of woman to let pleasure interfere with business. For some reason, though, she can’t resist Theo’s geeky appeal.

Theo Moore can’t be bought. His past battles with poverty make him deeply suspicious of the billionaire CEO. Still, with her voluptuous curves and brilliant mind, Rachel embodies his ultimate sexual fantasy. Too bad his knowledge about sex derives from extensive research and a stash of kinky porn rather than real-world experience.

That doesn’t seem to bother Rachel, however. In his bed—in his arms—in his bonds—she discovers the bliss of total surrender. Rachel may be Theo’s first lover, but Theo is Rachel’s first true Master—and the first man to truly touch her heart. As they grow closer, it seems that love may harmonize their differing goals and values. Then Rachel’s unwitting violation of Theo’s trust threatens to tear them apart forever.

Anyway, here’s one of my favorite kisses from the book (unedited excerpt).

When you’re done with my snog, head back to Victoria’s Sunday Snogpage for lots more sexy kisses!

*****

Our fingers touch as I take the note. That minimalist brush of skin on skin sends heat roaring through me. I suck in my breath. My nipples pebble under my jacket. Thank God he can’t see them. I think I’d dissolve in embarrassment.

Theo spears me with a curious gaze. “Is something wrong, Rachel?”

“No, no – I’m fine.” I tuck the paper into my purse, then force myself to meet his eyes. “I’m very glad to see you, Theo.”

His stiff posture softens a bit. “Me too.” He sweeps his gaze over my form. “You look – well – just beautiful.” Before I know what’s happening, he reaches out to engulf my small hand in his much larger one. He gives me a squeeze. “I’ve missed you,” he says, almost inaudible.

You missed me? It’s been less than forty eight hours, I start to say, trying to laugh off his intensity. But his warmth accelerates my pulse and dampens my pussy. His scent of soap and menthol shaving cream swamps me with memories of our transcendent first night together. I ache to have him in my arms again – to have in my cunt. I can’t deny I’ve missed him too.

He’s watching me, reading my face, his dark eyes flickering with emotion. I am suddenly as frightened as I am aroused. Theo Moore isn’t going to do casual. He’s an all-or-nothing sort of guy. I could seriously hurt him.

I want him, oh yes, more than I’ve wanted anyone in a long time. Am I ready to take responsibility, though, for the consequences?

So I don’t answer, don’t tell him how he has monopolized my thoughts for the past two days. Instead I change the subject.

“Have you thought about how you’ll use the donations?” Even to my own ears, my enthusiasm rings false.

“No – no – never mind that. I’ll consider that later.” He tugs on my hand, pulling me closer. My body slides across the leather upholstery, until my thigh presses against his. “I want to talk about us, Rachel.”

There is no ‘us’, I want to tell him. It’s too risky. Last night was great, but it won’t happen again. I choke down the words. I can’t think of any reply that won’t damage his fragile self-image.

There’s no chance for me to speak anyway. Theo wraps me in his bear-like arms, leans in, and claims my mouth. His kiss scatters my resolution like sun burning through fog.

His lips lock to mine, firm and muscular, taking control. I don’t fight him – how can I, when both of us know this is what I want? When he runs his tongue along the seam, I open automatically, following my instincts as he, I suspect, is following his. He tastes of peppermint. He smells like sun-warmed earth. He drinks me in as though he’d like to swallow me whole.

It sounds melodramatic to say I swoon in his arms, but it’s not far from the truth. I relax into his embrace, buoyed by his strength, dizzy with arousal. He kisses me thoroughly, thoughtfully, as though he’s memorizing my flavor. Meanwhile, he slips one hand under my jacket to palm my breast, thumbing my rigid, needy nipple as though he’d known about my nakedness all along.

Perhaps he did. He also knows exactly what to do with it, how to play with me until I’m drenched, trembling, moaning into his mouth.

I’m breathless when he finally releases me, with my pulse pounding in my ears and my clit throbbing in time.

“You’re not wearing a bra.” He grins as he states the obvious. “What about panties?”

I suck air into my lungs and rake my fingers through my tangles, as though that might bring some order to my thoughts. When I start to pull my jacket closed, he stops me with a glance. Do I really think I can hide from him? “That’s none of your business.”

“Oh really? I disagree.” He sniffs. Mingling with the scents of brass polish and seasoned leather is the tidal fragrance of my wetness. “I’m willing to bet the price of this fancy ride that your pussy’s bare under your skirt.”

“Don’t be rash, Theo. Luxury Limos Limited charges six hundred dollars per hour…”

“Prove me wrong, then. Spread your legs, Rachel.”

“Don’t be silly…”

“Rachel. Are you really going to disobey me?” There’s that tone of authority again, out of nowhere, challenging me.

Why am I resisting? Why in the world did I go commando unless I wanted Theo to see?

Still, it’s hard for me to comply. I’m so used to being the one in charge.

Cover Reveal for Upcoming Release!

Greetings!

I just signed a contract with Fireborn Publishing for a new release, a scifi short story entitled The Last Amanuensis. Normally, Fireborn uses stock covers for short fiction, but I convinced them to let me create my own cover. I thought you might like to see the result.

Not as good as Willsin's covers, but I'm getting better at this...!

Here's the blurb. The book will release in May.

Poetry is like blood – you can’t hold it back.

The Emperor has decreed that Reason will rule in his lands. Art and literature are banned in favor of military technology. The fearsome Preceptors prowl the capitol, arresting anyone who dares, even secretly, to engage in forbidden activities.

A former teacher and frustrated writer, Adele is grateful for her job as secretary to the enigmatic Professor. During the day, she transcribes his learned treatises on a vast range of topics. Then he calls her to his room one night, to give her a more difficult and intimate assignment, one that risks both their lives.

What Draws Us to History?

By Lizzie Tremayne (Guest Blogger)

What draws us to history?

Is it the romance of a different time from our own?

Is it what history can show us about ourselves?

How we’re different from or similar to others in the past?

Does it show us links to the people we were, and how we will be in the future?

Does it show us where we’ve diverged when people have made new beginnings?

Do we hope it will give us hints about where to seek in the eternal quest for who we are and where we fit in to this world?

For me, this last reason is why I write in the historical genre. When I began writing, I never thought about all this. I only knew I was drawn to stories of the past. The Dark Ages, the Elizabethan period, and the Old West equally held me enraptured since even before I began to read myself, for the simple first reason above.

I began researching and writing historical novels only a few years ago. It soon became clear that I was looking for answers to questions in my own history and present. What I discovered has helped me become more comfortable with the person I am.

As I study, I repeatedly ask myself how I can make the information I unearth palatable to someone who might never pick up a book of historical fact, search out an old battle record or travel to a remote graveyard to read the inscription on an old tombstone. Can I offer readers some inkling of what happened in their own town or country to give it the unique flavour it carries today? Some idea of why a certain town emerged just when it did? Most importantly, to shed light upon the reasons a particular society developed the way it has? Perhaps it will provide a piece of the puzzle, which will allow a whole population to try to open the doors previously closed upon the past, allowing healing of the hidden wounds that prevent peaceful cohabitation.

Several towns in the West define themselves as being part of the Pony Express Trail. The stories of Laura Ingalls Wilder played a large part in my understanding of the westward-moving American pioneer, and the peoples and lands they encountered, and how the settlers dealt with adversity. In my first novel, A Long Trail Rolling, coming out in a few days, I use Aleksandra, the daughter of a Polish immigrant trapper family, to show snapshots of 1860 life in the wilds of the Rocky Mountains. She must survive when she is left alone in the world, and becomes a “boy” rider for the famed Pony Express.

Although the ‘Pony’ as it was called, only lasted for a mere eighteen months, it still captures the imaginations of thousands, if not millions, of people, even one hundred and fifty years after its inception.

I show some interactions with American Indians in the novel, both positive aspects and negative.

In my second novel, A Sea of Green Unfolding, more than halfway completed, I show aspects of 1860′s history of both the San Francisco Bay Area, (or the part from Redwood City, via La Honda, and through to San Gregorio) and 1863 New Zealand. Discover why Redwood City grew so quickly? Learn why it was called Redwood City. In the same book, I offer the reader aspects of New Zealand history which are certainly not taught in primary, and only rarely in secondary schools here. They are shadowy aspects of our history which portions of our society wish had never happened, and would rather forget. Although almost apologetic, many of those who know are content to bury it beneath the carpet, so most people are unaware of the whole story and resolution cannot be attained. This untold history has shaped us as the people we have become. The conflicts began long ago between the Maori (and before that, the earlier Moriori) people who had already settled New Zealand before Captain Cook came in the 1700′s and the white settlers from England, Europe and Asia. There was wrongdoing on both sides, but much has remained hidden from the general view.

Overall, I hope to effectively use history to paint a picture, so that readers can better understand some of their own past, answer some of their questions about themselves and become more comfortable with their own place in the world.

A Long Trail Rolling by Lizzie Tremayne

The Long Trail, Book One

Escaping her father's killer, Aleksandra rode the Pony Express—full speed into the middle of the Indian Paiute Wars.

She didn’t expect to become a target, but she is one now!

Seventeen year old Aleksandra, trained in the Cossack arts from infancy by her father, finds herself alone and running to prevent her Pa's killer from obtaining a secret coveted by the Russian Czar, one which could alter the forces of power in Europe. Disguised as a Pony Express rider in 1860's Utah Territory, she finds herself in even deeper trouble. Her California boss Xavier has a strength to match her own, but can they overcome their differences before the ever-increasing odds overtake them?

With this debut Western Historical Adventure, Lizzi Tremayne won the 2014 RWNZ Pacific Hearts Award and was a finalist in the 2013 Great Beginnings A saga of the Old West with a multicultural cast of those who make up America, it would interest readers who enjoy Westerns, horses, American Indians, immigrants, and the Pony Express. It has a capable heroine, strong historical detail, period veterinary treatment and frontier-pushing characters. It compares to the work of Phillipa Gregory, Diana Gabaldon and Jean Auel, with a little Laura Ingalls Wilder thrown in.

This novel is the first in The Long Trail quadrilogy of historical adventure sagas following her characters from the wilderness of 1860 Utah to Colonial New Zealand.

Genre: Western Historical Adventure Fiction with Romantic Elements

Content/Theme(s): Western, horse, native American, Indian, immigrant, Pony Express, veterinary, Utah Territory, Old West

Release Date: 10 January 2015

Launch Party: 14 January 2015, Placerville, California!

See my page for details! LizziTremayne.com

Publisher: Indie, as Blue Mist Publishing

Excerpt and more: LizziTremayne.com

Excerpt

Lookout Pass, she reminded herself as she neared the summit. Glancing north to the distant white tops of the Onaqui Mountains, she swallowed hard as she thought again of her papa and the fossil he'd fossicked for her from its rocky ledges.

The spotted pony broke into a lope over the crest of the hill and began the mile-long descent. Aleksandra's thoughts filled with memories, she was absentmindedly fingering the fossil inside the medicine bag hung about her neck when she felt the first arrow whizz past her head.

Her heart stopped in its tracks and she flung herself to the left side of the Palouse's neck in a Cossack hang, lying flat against his side.

'Yah! Yah! Let's go, Scout!' she shouted, throwing the reins at him.

He needed little urging to run full tilt down the steep and treacherously rocky trail as the yells of Indian warriors echoed through the narrow valley. The arrows came hard and fast from the southwest, screaming like a mad bunch of hornets.

Smart. Her lips curved in the hint of a wry grin.

The Indians had placed themselves between the trail and the setting sun, so Aleksandra couldn't see her attackers in the glimpses she stole, from beneath Scout's neck, of the world whizzing past. With the ground only three feet from her head, the scent of sage filled her nostrils when Scout crashed through a clump of brush. Briefly considering letting go of one of her death-grip holds onto the racing horse to pull a gun from her holster, something akin to suicide, she tightened her lip in a grimace and stayed put, trusting far more in the Palouse's speed and handiness to save them. Knowing her weight hanging off to one side had to put him off his best, she tried to stay out of his way, keeping as still as possible, tucked down on the side of the skidding and leaping beast. Praying the cinch would hold, she sent fervent thanks to the pony selectors for their choice of horses.

How I would love to have my bow and arrows, but I only need to get us through to Doc Faust at Rush—

The Palouse interrupted her musings as he threw up his head and reared, angrily trumpeting and shaking his head for a moment, nearly dropping Aleksandra, then resumed his headlong rush down the hill. When he carried on, she heard whistling sounds with every breath and turned her face forward to see where the noise was coming from.

Then she saw the arrow.

Lizzie's Links

Website: www.lizzitremayne.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/LizziTremayne/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/A-Long-Trail-Rolling/588148927951917

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

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