Searchers

By Pepper Sinclair (Guest Blogger)

An erotic novel from Whiskey Creek Torrid.

Buy now!

Most of our books contain bits and pieces of our lives even though we write fiction. Searchers is based on something that happened to me: how inferior I felt to my best friend, how I craved the male attention she got everywhere we went, and how I found a blessing that still fills my heart with sweet memories and one large secret. Even from mistakes come lessons learned, and Searchers captures mine.

Blurb

Married for seven years to her high school sweetheart, Rick, and mother to three-year-old Brandon, Katie Franklin feels life is passing her by. The only place Rick’s willing to take her is into the bedroom. That isn’t enough.

On a girl’s night on the town with her sexy friend, Irene, Katie meets handsome Joey Arnold, who casts an approving glance in her direction. It’s been a long time since Katie’s felt desirable.

What starts out as an exciting affair of passionate sex soon turns into love and a very complex situation for Katie. Joey brings out the beast in her, but can she be cruel enough to break Rick’s heart and take Brandon away from him?

She has some difficult decisions to make in so little time. Will she choose incredible sex with Joey or work to save her marriage? Come to Searchers and find out.

Excerpt (Unedited)

At the path’s end, Joey led her to a secluded cove where he spread the blanket across the moonlit sand. The tiny grains glistened like broken pieces of glass and lit a walkway that extended for as far as Katie could see down the beach. A refreshing sea breeze picked up the ocean spray then caressed her face with a fine mist.

The inlet hadn’t been visible from above. "How did you find this place?" she asked.

"I used to come here when I was a kid. Mom always loved the beach - I guess that’s where I get my love for the ocean. It was a place we came as a family and did what we all enjoyed. Mom and I waded out into the ocean and let the waves carry us back. No matter how far down the beach we drifted, we never lost sight of Dad lying underneath our big multi-colored umbrella while reading the paper or listening to his portable radio." Joey fell silent and stared out to sea. “You know, I miss those times."

He turned and smiled at Katie. “It was also my favorite make-out spot when I was in high school, but I haven’t been here for years."

The tension running along her shoulders eased at hearing she wasn’t just one in a string of women he brought here. "So this is where you took your girlfriends. I feel honored to grace your special hideaway."

Katie giggled as she curtsied before him.

He took her hand and pulled her into a close embrace. Her breasts flattened against his broad expanse, enabling her to feel the pounding within his chest. Placing her palm against his shirt, she mentally counted the pulsing beats. "Does your heart always race like this?"

He gazed into her eyes with such lust, she knew he wanted her. "Only with you, Katie. You make me wild."

So much time had passed since she saw eyes filled with desire, she discarded any reservations. The pulsing in her body moved to the juncture between her thighs. Her breath came in wisps.

"Then show me just how wild, Joey."

Strong hands cupped her buttocks and pulled her against the length of him. His erection poked against her thigh, not where she wanted it. She adjusted her stance in order to enjoy the ramrod hardness of his penis.

He gazed down at her and smiled. "Do you want that?"

"Yes…yes, I do. I want every bit of it."

Like candle wax melting in the sun, they oozed to the blanket below. His hands worked methodically until he’d removed her clothing, then his own. The cool ocean breeze caressed her bare skin and turned her nipples into stone. The slight smell of fish drifted in with each wave.

Joey bent and sucked one hardened nub into his mouth and lapped at it with his tongue, then pulled away. He straightened and leaned back on the balls of his feet. Naked astride her, his chocolate eyes assessed her from head to toe, and he licked his lips like a chef satisfied with his best recipe. His words were barely audible above the wave crashing on the beach. "Katie, do you want me to make love to you, or do you want me to fuck you?"

Her mind raced. Was there a difference? They had made love, at least that’s what she considered it, but now she felt naughty and adventuresome.

"Fuck me, Joey. Fuck me hard." Her preference tumbled out.

"Mmm...not...just...yet."

He pushed her knees apart and insinuated himself between them. Bending his head, he buried his face between her legs. His fingers held her womanly folds apart as he dove deeper into her moist recesses. His tongue searched for and found her pulsing knob. As if using a straw, he suctioned the very strength from her body.

She raised her hips from the blanket and twined her fingers through his wavy hair, holding his head against her core until her own crashing wave subsided. "Oh, baby. That was wonderful," she said, fighting to find her breath.

Joey wiped the wetness from his mouth against the back of his hand. "That was just the start. Now it’s your turn, Katie."

He reclined alongside her, but propped himself up with his elbows. His erect penis stood at full attention. Her exhaustion quickly passed as thoughts of what was yet to come enticed her to take hold of his silky cock.

Katie closed her fingers around his girth and slid her hand up and down the length of his satiny skin. Her tongue licked at the tip of his penis and probed the small opening in the end. His gasp stirred her onward.

She lowered her open mouth over his waiting shaft, delighting in the way it massaged the sides of her throat. As her lips and tongue savored his manliness, her own body reacted to his pleasure. The place where his mouth had just been, now pulsed with desire to be filled to the brim. She sucked with all her might, circling him with her tongue and nipping gently with her teeth. She wanted to bring him the same pleasure she had just enjoyed.

His breath quickened. "Oh! Suck me, Katie. Ewww, yes." His hands grasped both sides of her head. Suddenly, her mouth filled with his sticky cum forcing her to swallow several times. His body went limp.

The salty taste lingered in her mouth, and she curled up beside him. "How was that?"

"Lady, you can do me anytime." His forearm rested across his brow, his breathing fast and loud.

Bio: My pen name is Pepper St. Claire and this is my first and last "erotica" offering. Writing this genre is more difficult than any other for me since I'm a "behind the door" kind of gal. Now that I've revisited this story, I feel inspired to re-write it and make it better, as I've made a few minor alterations in my excerpt. I hope you'll forgive the few improvements...tags following instead of preceding, eliminating a few word echoes, adding some missing quotations.... This was written in 2004 and I've learned a ton since then and also become quite proficient at editing. Also, I'm going to have a new cover, which is why I've included an image of Joey's cove instead of a proper book cover. I truly hope you enjoy the bit I offered, because the book delivers a message I really would like to share. You have to read Searchers to find out what it is.

Missing in Milan

By Elizabeth Coldwell (Guest Blogger)

Erotic romance from Total-e-bound

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When I saw Total-e-bound were looking for novellas with an Italian hero and setting, I knew I finally had the opportunity to set a story in Milan, a really beautiful city where I spent a fantastic weekend, packed with shopping, sightseeing and fabulous Italian football, with my partner and a good female friend of ours several years ago. The title came immediately, and once I had it, I then had to decide who was missing and who was searching for them. The storyline took me into romantic suspense territory for the first time, and I had great fun creating a heroine who’s vulnerable and in need of help, but still retains some feistiness, and a hero who’s charming, intellectual and hot – but who may have some unwelcome secrets lurking beneath the surface.

Blurb:

A weekend in Milan with her student sister, Charlie, should be a welcome break in Laura’s stressful life. When Charlie fails to meet her at the airport as arranged, Laura isn’t too concerned at first. After all, her sister has always been impulsive and forgetful where she is cautious and thoughtful. But when she goes to Charlie’s apartment, only for the landlady to tell her she hasn’t seen Charlie for several days, Laura begins to worry something sinister has happened.

With the aid of Gianmario de Rossi, Charlie’s personal tutor, begins to probe the mystery of Charlie’s disappearance. But how much does the handsome, intelligent Gianmario know about what’s really happened to Charlie, and by giving in to her impulse to have wild, passionate sex with him, is Laura being lured to a similar fate?

Excerpt:

Kicking off my boots, I tucked my feet underneath myself. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. You really didn’t need to, considering all that my sister’s ever been to you—to all of us—is a right royal pain in the backside.”

That’s when the stresses of the day finally hit me. My anger with Charlie at having put me—and Gianmario, for that matter—through all this combined with my fear that something really terrible had happened to her, and I burst into tears.

“Hey, it’s all right.” Gianmario pulled me into an embrace, making soothing noises as he stroked my hair. Pressed against his shoulder, I breathed in his woodsy aftershave, underlain with something muskier and more masculine. The smell was as reassuring as it was arousing.

I lifted my face towards his, but whatever I’d intended to say was forgotten as our eyes met. Behind the lenses of his glasses, his pupils were deep pools of desire. He bent his head, his lips brushing mine. That was all it took.

He cupped my face in his beautiful, versatile hands. His tongue traced the contours of my mouth, softly and surely drawing me in. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been kissed with such passion, such authority, and my body was responding, my pussy growing wet and my nipples pushing hard against the cups of my bra.

I pushed his hair away from his forehead, noticing a small, crescent-shaped scar above his left eyebrow as I did. I broke the kiss long enough to ask, “How did this happen?”

He chuckled. “I was climbing a tree when I was a little boy, and I fell. I was always doing things like that. I used to drive my mamma crazy. She said I loved danger too much.”

Gianmario kissed me again, and now his hands were moving over my body, pulling the hem of my top out of my jeans so he could stroke the bare skin of my stomach. Our mouths were locked together, my hands twined in his hair. I felt as though my body was waking after a long sleep, coming alive and being reminded of its full potential to give and receive pleasure.

Keen to see the physique he was hiding beneath his sensible plaid shirt, I fumbled with the buttons. “Slow down,” Gianmario murmured in my ear. “We have all night.”

“But I can’t wait,” I replied. “I want to see you naked.”

“Then let’s go somewhere we can really stretch out and be comfortable.” With that, he picked me up in his arms, carrying me through to Charlie’s room. I was struck by his strength, wondering what he did to keep himself in such good physical shape.

He laid me down on the bed. “We can’t do this on my sister’s bed!” I exclaimed, still clinging to the hope that, unlikely as it was, she might come home at any moment.

His grin was irresistibly wicked. “I told you, I love danger too much.”

Bio: Elizabeth Coldwell lives and writes in London. She worked on the UK edition of Forum magazine for over twenty years, learning all about the fascinating world of human relationships and sex in its many and varied forms. Her short stories and novellas have been published by numerous imprints including Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ravenous Romance and Total-e-bound among others, and her time-travelling, body-swapping, packed with horny rock musicians novel, Someone Else’s Skin, is available from Xcite Books. She can be found at The (Really) Naughty Corner, http://elizabethcoldwell.wordpress.com, when she isn’t following her beloved Rotherham United home and away or whipping up some of her legendary Yorkshire parkin.

It All Starts TOMORROW!

I'm off on my annual trip back to the U.S. tomorrow morning. But I've arranged for you to have lots of entertainment while I'm gone.

I've booked more than two dozen fabulous authors as guests here at Beyond Romance, for my Sizzling Spring Excerpt Festival. Every day I'll feature a different cover, author, blurb and excerpt.

And to make things more interesting, I'm having a big contest. First prize is a package of three of my current print books, autographed of course. Second prize is a single print book, and third prize is an ebook. I'll randomly draw the winners after I return on the 20th of April.

What do you have to do? Simply show up, read, enjoy and comment. Every time you leave a comment you're entered to win. The more often you visit, the higher the chance that you'll be one of my winners!

By the way, the author who generates the most comments will also get a prize. So stay tuned to your groups and email lists, so you can help your favorite authors win!

See you in April!

Newsletter Contest Winner!

Just popping in to announce that Desta was the winner of my quickie newsletter contest. I just sent her a copy of Truce of Trust. Thanks to all of you who participated!

Let this be a lesson - you never know when I'll decide to run a contest! In this case, I announced the contest in the emails I sent to Lisabet's List and other romance Yahoo groups.

Meanwhile, if you haven't yet checked out my March newsletter, go to http://www.lisabetsarai.com/news.html right now! As usual, you'll find information about my new releases (including two fabulous covers), free reading and all the details on my upcoming month long blog contest.

What are you waiting for? ;^)

Why I Write Sex

By K.D. Grace (Guest Blogger)

I watched my husband get out of the shower and dry himself the other morning, something I’ve seen a thousand times before, and I was moved by the physicality of him. And no, this isn’t going to be a ‘too much information’ sort of post, so relax.

Human sexuality is such an amazing thing. No matter what we say or do we’re all moved by each other’s physical bits, and certain physical bits move us more than others. The physical sexual self sometimes attracts us, sometimes disturbs us, but it always makes us feel something.’

In response to my observations, my husband waxed scientific, as he has a tendency to do. He reminded me of biology and the basic urge to procreate. He reminded me that the need we humans have for long-term relationships is because we need someone to stick by us to raise children, and human children take a long time to raise. I know the biology, and I know about hormones and pheromones. I know about oxytocin and dopamine and other cool stuff that makes us feel good when our physical contact becomes sexual. It’s chemistry. It’s biology. It’s the way the genes make it to the next generation. Yes biology drives us. I get that. And sometimes biology is a bitch. I get that too. And yet… I am moved.

I can’t think that I would write sex and take such pleasure in the writing if I wasn’t moved, deeply moved, and I don’t mean in the moist undies sort of way … though there is that.

We humans are masters in the art of deception, masters in the art of disguise. We are the ultimate chameleons. We know exactly how to hide our true selves from our fellow human beings. And we do it most of the time. No doubt my very smart husband could tell me exactly why that is from a scientific point of view. But for me, it’s a part of what makes teasing it all out on the written page so damn much fun. Humans are masters of disguise and deception until they get down to the rumpy pumpy, then sooner or later, the deception fails and the disguise slips and we are naked animals at the rut, exposed and vulnerable. Let the story begin!

Not much happens in the story with the defenses up and the disguises in place. Enter sex, and everything happens. Even after the sex is over and done with, the story is irrevocably changed because of the act. And what happens next is a crap shoot. Every writer’s dream. When sex enters the story, anything can happen. Sex brings about love and tenderness and bonding and connectedness. It also brings about jealousy and anger and possessiveness and despair. Sex pretty much covers the gamut of the stuff good stories are made of. Leave it out and the story will be bloodless, and the characters thin on the ground. Put it in, and the sky is the limit.

My characters are most deeply themselves when they’re having sex, or when the raw need for it is driving them. I don’t think that’s any real surprise, since we wear our humanity on our sleeve – or lack thereof – where sex is concerned.

On the level of basic biology, we may be able to reduce human sexuality to the relentless drive of the selfish gene to reproduce itself in the next generation, and that in itself is startlingly, bleakly beautiful. But on the level of the story, which is the level of the human heart, sexuality bursts into a kaleidoscope of endless emotions and feelings and needs that are played out in myriad ways. And when sexuality interacts with story, we get ring-side views into the human psyche laid bare. Our characters show themselves for who they truly are, no matter how hard they try to hide. And the harder they try to hide themselves, the more their true nature is revealed. Strangely, the closer we get to the animal nature that drives us all, the more clearly focused, the more finely honed the view is of what makes characters who they are.

It’s because I’m moved by our physicality, it’s because innate maleness or femaleness by its very nature cries out for intimate contact that writing sex is such an enthralling, multi-facetted task. Humanity viewed through sexuality is viewing who we are from the inside out and back in again. When sex happens, all of those archetypal pieces of the human puzzle fit together in high definition, surround-sound clarity. But only for the moment, then they are once again swept away and subsumed into the milieu that’s everything else, and we dust off our disguises, wrap ourselves in our defenses and move on. Ah, but the stories, the wild, delicious stories that come from those few moments of chaotic, breathless, rutting clarity are a writer’s wet dream come true.

***

K D Grace was born with a writing obsession. It got worse once she actually learned HOW to write. There's no treatment for it. It's progressive and chronic and quite often interferes with normal, everyday functioning. She might actually be concerned if it wasn't so damned much fun most of the time.

K Ds erotic romance novel, The Initiation of Ms Holly, published by Xcite Books, is now available everywhere.

Her erotica has been published with Xcite Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Erotic Review, Ravenous Romance, and Scarlet Magazine.

Her second novel, The Pet Shop, also published by Xcite Books, will be available in October 2011.

You can find her website at http://kdgrace.co.uk. She's also on Facebook and Twitter.

The Best Things in Life

I received a great card the other day, from one of my oldest friends. On the front it says:

The best things in life...

When you open the card, it reads:

aren't things. They're people like you.

I was blown away by the truth of this statement. Having lived on this planet for more than a half a century, I've accumulated a great deal of stuff. Some of it has monetary value. Some has sentimental value. Yet, if I lost it all, but still had my husband, my family, my friends, I'd hardly be much poorer. In fact sometimes I feel as though the material items in my life are more a burden than a blessing. (Other times, of course, I'm lusting after a new laptop to replace my 9 year old Thinkpad, or a new music player that has a switch that works so I have some control over what I listen to!)

The recent unbelievable set of disasters in Japan hammer make this realization all the more relevant. Whole towns were wiped off the map by the tsunami. It may take ten years to rebuild the infrastructure. Yet the greatest loss was the thousands of individual lives swept away by the waves or crushed beneath crumbling buildings.

Lots of people lost everything they owned. If their family and friends came through safely, though, I count them as rich.

As for me, I feel humbled by all my blessings. I'm going back to the U.S. next week, to see my siblings and parents for the first time in a year. I'm so grateful that they're all well. They're precious to me. I'm also going to be attending a 60th birthday party for another dear friend, someone I've been close to for more than thirty years. It's just luck that our trip coincides with this event. Or maybe one of those small miracles that happen all the time, but that we so frequently ignore.

I have the best things in life. The next time I start to complain about how much work I have to do, or about how my back aches, or about how clunky and slow my computer is... I'll just stop and remind myself.

Senior Sex

By Ginger Simpson (Guest Blogger)

Today I'm revealing two secrets. One: I’m so not the sexy type. No matter how hard I try to pretend, there is nothing about this sixty-five-year-old body that makes me think I could make a man shiver with desire. Therein lies the problem with being successful in writing erotica…at least from my POV. When I write, the characters tell me a story and I have to envision the concept to put it into words. There are just no words adequate enough to drag something sexy from this brain to my fingertips. All I can see is myself, and believe me, no one wants to share that image. Someone forgot to secure the baggage and the package shifted during travel. Seriously!

There once was a time when I could put on a black nightie and feel somewhat desirable, but that ship sailed…and I believe sunk some years ago. Truth is, age steals so many things from you that you’ve always taken for granted. All those graphic stories that tell of “his” manhood delving into her “moist” woman’s cave. HA! Once you become a senior citizen, if you don’t have a bottle of lube by the bedside, you’d better be prepared to scream…and not in ecstasy. Drier than dust comes to mind!

And those perky breasts! Maybe twenty years ago they were. Now they’ve migrated North and South. When an older woman is flat on her back, it’s not quite so easy to “capture a nipple" when her breasts reside in her armpits.

Once, I was flexible, now I’m arthritic. Sex is about as appealing to me as having a blood test. And of course, those positions that once brought delight now bring Charlie Horses and achy hips. Of course, some may say, “be on top.” NO friggin way! Then I keep flashing back to Dorothy’s advice to Blanche on the Golden Girls to bend over and look in a mirror. OMG! I did and I believe I’m a direct descendant of the Char Pei dog line. That didn’t do a darn thing for my missing self-esteem.

Oh, I know men could have sex with a knot hole, but I’ve always liked to think I was more attractive than a piece of wood. Now I’m not to sure, and sometimes, I actually wish we had a fence. *lol*

I think the main reason I can’t write erotica is that I’m a “behind the door” kind of girl—both in writing and my personal life. I love romance. I want to feel the attraction, the heat, but I like things left to my imagination. Close the door at that point and let me picture what goes on behind it. I don’t need to read about every lick, suck or plunge. Honestly, I don’t. But to those of you who do, and write or read it with such ease and comfort, I applaud you. I do have to mention that there are a few of my fellow authors who write with the door wide open and I love their style. Lisabet is one of those, Sloane Taylor is the other.

Erotica is a hot seller, but I guess I’ll miss the boat on this one. Same goes for fairies, werewolves, shape shifters, and vampires. Readers are really into fantasy, and if you throw in sex, you’re got a winning novel. Unfortunately, most of my characters pop out of the Old West, and in order to make the story somewhat believable, even if it is fiction, the author has to show the story to the reader. I can’t if I can’t imagine it. Besides, the only thing howling at the moon in my books is going to be a coyote, and if someone’s shape shifts, it’s because she’s with child. I can’t ever recall seeing a fairy or vampire on Little House on the Prairie or Bonanza, so I think I’ll stick with writing what I can see in my mind’s eye. I just had cataracts removed, but maybe that eye still has one.

Second secret revealed: Just so you know...I did FORCE myself to write an erotica book some time ago. I'm Pepper St. Claire. Writing the genre was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. Normally words flow with ease from my mind to my fingers, but, I really struggled to get the story finished. It's entitled Searchers and is still available at Whiskey Creek Press.

Ellora's cave rejected it back then because, GASP!!!!, my heroine had an affair. How offensive is that in this day and age? But, my rejection letter cited that the concept would be offensive to readers and not something they endorsed. Like I said in one of my humorous books...you can have sex with a vampire, a hairy werewolf, or an alien in any body orifice, time-travel to another century and screw a count or duke, but God forbid your heroine actually strays to someone else's bed while she's married. That NEVER happens!

Thanks to Lisabet for letting me take up space today and hosting a stop on my blog tour. There's a little break between this one and my last tour appearance, but I hope you'll visit me at Lindsay Below's site at http://lbelow.blogspot.com where I have no idea what I'll talk about, but I'm thinking I need to share some of Odessa with you since it's a February release and you may not have heard about it. In the meantime you can always visit my website http://www.gingersimpson.com and read about any of my books. And you're always welcome at my blog, Dishin' It Out. Never know what the heck (or who) you'll find there!

See you soon!

SPICE UP YOUR LIFE WITH GINGER