Walk on the Dark Side

By Lynn Townsend (Guest Blogger)

"If this was one of Lynn's stories, they'd be an ax-wielding clan of murderers, rather than a cutesy family." -- Matt B.

I like bad guys.

My first childhood crush was Han Solo, back in the days where there was no "Han shot first" bullpockey. Han shot. Greedo died. And Harrison Ford was cute, and not-blond, which was a big plus for me. Being a brunette and constantly being compared unfavorably to my blond cousin. Han was a smuggler and a thief, a gambler and a liar, and he expected to be paid for whatever he did. It was motivation I could get behind.

Bad guys get all the best lines.

"Why a spoon, cousin?"

"Because it's dull, you twit. It'll hurt more."

-- Sheriff of Nottingham, Robin Hood Prince of Thieves

"I have altered the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further."

-- Darth Vader, Empire Strikes Back

"Do you expect me to talk?"

"No, Mr. Bond. I expect you to die."

--Auric Goldfinger, Goldfinger

"I don't like warriors. Too narrow-minded, no subtlety. And worse, they fight for hopeless causes. Honor? Huh! Honor's killed millions of people, it hasn't saved a single one. I'll tell you what I do like though: a killer, a dyed-in-the-wool killer. Cold blooded, clean, methodical and thorough. Now a real killer, when he picked up the ZF-1, would've immediately asked about the little red button on the bottom of the gun. "

-- Zorg, The Fifth Element

"We dance, we kiss, we schmooze, we carry on, we go home happy. What do you say?"

-- Hades, Hercules

Villains often get the best clothes. I mean, let's be serious. Who looks cooler, Boba Fett or Luke Skywalker? Rochefort or Porthos?

I have been in love with villains and anti-heroes since the beginning. I liked Rhett Butler over Ashley Wilkes (Gone with the Wind), Raistlin over Tanis (Dragonlance Chronicles), Edmund over Peter (Narnian Chronicles), and probably the most argued, Harold Lauder over Stu Redman (The Stand).

And yet... I write romance and erotic romance. It's difficult, at best, to fit a decent villain into a 5,000 - 10,000 word short story. An erotic romance often lacks the space, or the time, to need a villain; my hero and heroine (or hero and hero!) don't have a bad guy to overcome in order to be together. They have a situation to resolve.

 

Seeming with one mind, several of them leapt toward the war-wagon, mouth agape in broken-tooth snarls, mouths gaping wide and dripping toxic saliva. One scrambled for a fingerhold on the narrow strip of portal, giving Avesy his first look at a live lazar. Unfortunately, it was rapidly followed by his second view, and his third and tenth. They didn’t get any more attractive, or less wrong-seeming with repeated exposure.

Each one looked almost human. Almost. In ways that twisted the brain into uncomfortable places. Eyes that were too large, or too narrow, or just hell's breath in the wrong entire locations. Mouths that gaped and stretched, filled with more teeth than were strictly necessary. Tongues with eyeballs on the tip. Clawed hands that could rip up steel and tie it in knots. Bulging muscles, straining at split and mangled flesh. And in every mangled, tortured face, Avesy could see hunger, desperate hunger. He swallowed hard, hands tightening on the wheel.

How is Korin not insane, dealing with these creatures? Avesy thought, jerking the war-wagon sharply to the left to loosen the zombie’s grasp on it. The pulse-rifle fired, a stacatto thump, the strike of a muffled drum. Whump whump whump. The lazars fell like poisoned roaches, not even twitching in the aftermath.

-- W.O.L., He Loves Me for My Brainsss (http://tinyurl.com/b5lzxpr)

They may not always show up in my stories. But this is me, and I can't ever give up my first love.

Villains.

Bio

 

Lynn Townsend is a geek, a mother, a dreamer, and the proud owner of a portable black

hole that eats kittens, odd socks, staplers and her car keys. Her works have appeared in a dozen

collections, including “Steamlust” and “Coming Together: Hungry for Love.” When not writing, her interests include coffee snobbery, filk music, assorted geekery, and chasing her child around. To learn more about Lynn, please visit her website, http://paidbytheweird.blogspot.com/ or on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/LynnTownsendwriter

Lisabet's February News

New and Upcoming Releases

Coming Together: In Vein, my charity vampire anthology, is now available in ebook and print, from a wide variety of booksellers. I want to thank my fellow authors, many of whom have kindly featured the book on their blogs to help me get the word out. As you probably know by now, every copy you buy goes to support the essential work of Doctors Without Borders. During February I plan to be doing more promotion for the book, including some giveaways. And speaking of free books, I will give a copy of my ebook short story collection Body Electric to anyone who buys In Vein and sends me a copy of the receipt. Two books for the price of one - what more could you want?

If you still need convincing, check out Nathan Burgoine's rave review of the book at Erotica Revealed. After mentioning stories he particularly enjoyed, he concludes:

Coming Together: In Vein was a very welcome surprise. None of the stories felt familiar or typical (some even crossed into speculative fiction territory) and it was a very welcome reminder that given the right authors, even something that feels as “done” as vampires can – pardon another pun – gain new life.

Since my last newsletter in December, I finished and submitted Rajasthani Moon. Furthermore, as you may already know from the whooping and hollering I've been doing on my blog, the book has been contracted by Total-E-Bound. This multi-genre opus (well, it's 52K words - is that long enough to be considered an opus?) will see VIP release in early May and general release the first week in June.

As you can see below, the cover is fantastic. It's a bit of a challenge to put together a set of images related to BDSM, werewolves, steampunk, Bollywood, ménage and Rubenesque in a single cover!

Here's the blurb:

Neither kink nor curse can stop a woman with a mission

Cecily Harrowsmith, secret agent extraordinaire, is a woman on a mission. When the remote Indian kingdom of Rajasthan refused to remit its taxes to the Empire, Her Majesty imposed an embargo. Deprived of the energy-rich mineral viridium, essential for modern technology and development, Rajasthan was expected to quickly give in and resume its payments. Yet after three years, the rebellious principality still has not knuckled under. Cecily undertakes the difficult journey to the rugged, arid land of the Rajputs to determine just how it has managed to survive, and if possible to convince the country to return to the Empire's embrace. Instead, she's taken captive by a brigand who turns out to be the ruler's half-brother Pratan and delivered into the hands of the sexy but sadistic Rajah Amir, who expertly mingles torture and delight in his interrogation of the voluptuous interloper.

Cursed before birth by Amir's jealous mother, Pratan changes to a ravening wolf whenever the moon is full. Cecily uncovers the counter-spell that can reverse the effects of the former queen's hex and tries to trade that information for her freedom. Drawn to the fierce wolf-man and sympathising with his suffering, she volunteers to serve as the sacrifice required by the ritual – offering her body to the beast. In return, the Rajah reveals Rajasthan's amazing secret source of energy. In the face of almost impossible odds, Cecily has accomplished the task entrusted to her by the Empire. But can she really bear to leave the virile half-brothers and their colourful land behind and return to constraints of her life in England?

Other News

To make up for having abandoned you last month, I have another brand new story for you, just in time for this month's festival of love. Old-Fashioned Valentine is a romantic BDSM tale about a woman whose master has a traditional streak.

If you're in the mood for more Valentine's stories, check out Ordinary Miracless, a M/M Valentine's erotic romance (X-rated) featuring the characters from Necessary Madness or The Origin of St. Valentine's Day, a erotic myth with a grain of historical truth.

Are you on Goodreads? I don't do Facebook, but I really enjoy hanging out and sharing information and opinions about books. Feel free to friend me there, or check out my reviews. Also, Total-E-Bound has established a new Goodreads group which you're very welcome to join. Members will be the first to hear about TEB releases and promotions, as well as getting the chance to chat with all our great authors.

Did you get your holiday gift from me? Back around the turn of the year, I was gave away free PDF books of two of my holiday stories, Last Minute Gift (M/M) and Silver Bells (M/F/M BDSM ménage), complete with covers designed by me. If you somehow missed out, just send me an email (lisabet -- at -- lisabetsarai.com) telling me which one you'd like, and I'll send it along.

Contests!
Congratulations to Pagan Lady, who won my December contest. I'm sending her an ebook copy of Nasty Business.

For my February contest, I'm offering a $25 Amazon gift certificate. Yes, that's a big prize, but I didn't have a contest in January (if you don't count all the giveaways on my blog!). What do you have to do to get in on the action? Send me an email at contest -- at -- lisabetsarai.com with the subject line "Favorite Book Contest". Let me know which of my books you've enjoyed the most, and why. (If you've never read anything by me, that's okay, you can tell me, and I'll still enter you in the contest!)

As usual, I'll announce the winner in my next newsletter.

Lisabet's Pick of the Month
 
My pick of the month for February is Elle Q. Sabine's web site. Her Misbegotten Misses series has a freshness that I really admire, and the covers are absolutely magnificent. Drop by and pay her a visit!

Weddings, Weddings Everywhere – Where’s A Groom For Me?

By Normandie Alleman (Guest Blogger)

When I first met Lisabet she was kind enough to send me a copy of her free read, Something Borrowed. It’s a sexy story of a lovely girl who has a tendency to get into mischief at weddings. I enjoyed the story immensely, and it got me to thinking – What is it about weddings that makes them crop up in so many romance stories?

Perhaps it’s obvious. A wedding is an event about love and commitment. That is tremendously romantic. You always see guys in movies trying to pick up women at weddings. The premise is that weddings make the single girl look around for a partner. Do weddings have this effect on you?

I have my share of memories inspired by weddings. My favorite involves a red dress and some handcuffs, but I digress. Weddings do bring out the romantic in us. We’re privy to a couple’s intimate pledge to spend the rest of their lives together. That’s hot! The bride and groom’s hope for the future is as contagious as a yawn on a crowded airplane.

A wedding is the backdrop for my new release from Total E-Bound, Venetian Love Knots. Allison flies to Venice to be in her best friend’s Valentine’s Day wedding. It sounds like a great vacation. The only catch is that her ex-boyfriend, Cole, is going to be the best man. For years Allison has been trying to put her past with the rodeo cowboy behind her. But the kind of passion they shared is hard to come by…

In Italy, Allison meets Nico, the handsome Italian cousin of the groom. And Cole is determined to win her back, setting Allison’s past and her future on a collision course. Which one will win her heart?

Here’s the blurb: 

 

Travelling to Venice to be the maid of honour in her best friend’s wedding sounds like a great vacation, and a romantic way to spend Valentine’s Day. But when Allison Fox discovers who the best man is, she is torn between duty and self-preservation.

It has taken Allison four years to put her tumultuous relationship with the rodeo cowboy behind her. A violent incident ripped them apart. Now Allison must find a way to face her past and find closure with her old flame. But will she be able to put the past behind her?

Cole is the Texas cowboy has never got over his love for Allison. But when he declares his love for her after all this time, is she strong enough to walk away from the intense passion they share?

For years Nico, a handsome Italian, was committed to nothing but his work. Nico never expected he would meet an American beauty who would awaken in him a desire to love again. Once he finds her, Nico vows to never let Allison go.

It will be a Valentine’s Day to remember, but who will win Allison’s heart?

Read an excerpt from Venetian Love Knots:

Upstairs, as they tumbled into his room, Cole warned her, “Allison, you are going to have to trust me tonight. Do you think you can do that?” 

 

“Oh, yes!” she cried between his kisses, barely catching her breath.

“Okay, then hold on just a minute, baby. Do you want anything to drink? Do you have to go to the bathroom?” he asked.

“No, why?” she asked, her head clearing a little.

“Because I am going to tie you up,” he said. Then he bit her lip, fondling one of her breasts. Abruptly, he walked away, leaving her standing, shocked.

Allison wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. She needed to sit down. Wait, maybe she did need to go to the bathroom. Yes, then she could sit down. And go to the bathroom. Tie her up? Was he serious?

Allison knew Cole, and he didn’t kid around about things like this. What was she going to do? Well, she would let him do it, of course. She let Cole do…anything? That was why he had said she would have to trust him. She did trust him. She trusted him not to hurt her. At least physically. Emotionally, now that was a different story…

Okay, she could do this. It might be fun.

Cole had returned with some white silky ropes and a rakish grin. He looked like he was really going to enjoy this. Maybe a little too much. How long had he been planning this? Did he do this all the time? Allison wasn’t brave enough to ask that last question.

“Are you scared? You don’t need to be scared, babe. I promise I won’t hurt you.” He laughed. “Unless you want me to.”

To view the Book Trailer: http://normandiealleman.com/2013/01/book-trailer-for-venetian-love-knots

For more information or to purchase Venetian Love Knots: http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=2003

Author Bio:

A former psychologist, Normandie has always been fascinated by human behavior. She loves writing about quirky characters that are all too human. “I’m interested in the kind of relationships people have in real life. So I write about my characters’ messy, unpredictable, and inexplicable journeys to love.”

If there were another 5 hours in the day, Normandie would spend more time needle-pointing and playing with photography. Instead, she’s a Pinterest addict and sports junkie who loves Twitter and the color pink. She lives in the Southern US with a passel of children, her hunky husband, and pet pig, Petunia, who is crazy for Red Bull.

Visit Normandie on the web: http://www.normandiealleman.com

Leave a comment and tell us – What is your favorite memory of a wedding? (other than your own) Be it romantic or sexy…share it with us.

[And - since Normandie was kind enough to mention my story Something Borrowed - if you haven't read it and you'd like a PDF copy of your own, all you need to do tell me in a comment that includes your email address, and I'll send it along! ~ Lisabet]

Want to win a Kindle packed with fifty books?

Greetings, readers!

Total-E-Bound is doing a marketing survey to find out what you want.

It takes ten to fifteen minutes to complete (and it's quite fun - or at least I enjoyed it!)  Everyone who completes the survey has the option of providing an email and being entered into a drawing for a brand new Kindle, packed with fifty books from Total-E-Bound.

Interested? Go to:

https://www.surveymonkey.com/s/MXR6ZCW

Furthermore, to sweeten the pot - if you fill out the survey and then come here and leave a comment telling me you did so, I'll enter you in a drawing for a copy of my most recent TEB release, Mastering Maya.  I'll draw the winner on Friday. Be sure to tell me when you filled out the survey (date and time), and include an email address in your comment.

We want to hear from you!

Kinky Boots

[Today's sneak peek focuses on K.D. Grace's sizzling novella, Kinky Boots. I want some! ~ Lisabet]

Blurb

Passion is the journey. Love is the destination.
 

After a sizzling encounter in Demon Heels, a quirky all-night shoe store, with the store’s hot owner, Finn Masters, Jill Hart walks away in the most gorgeous boots ever. Her new boots come with an unexpected bonus, a sexy demon named Eleanor, who’s looking for a good time. All she lacks is a body, and Jill’s will do nicely.

Jill quits her dead-end job and, not knowing what’s come over her stops by the nearest pub intent on doing tequila shots until she falls off the stool. Instead she does Finn in the beer garden, unwittingly participating in her first ever threesome. The boots were the bait, the timing was right and Eleanor has new digs. It’s Finn job to prevent Eleanor’s misbehaving. His failure means he’ll have to ride shotgun and do damage control until Eleanor moves out at the next full moon.

With Eleanor in residence, Jill’s bolder, sexier, willing to take risks. But is she a whole new Jill, or is it just demon courage? And how will Finn feel about her when she’s just plain Jill again? Will the maddeningly magical ménage make Jill’s dreams come true, or will it break her heart?

Excerpt:

There was a soft knock on the door and Meinrad entered the room with several hanks of what looked like ordinary rope. He nodded his greeting to Finn, then his gaze came to rest on Jill, and she felt her entire body blush at his inspection. ‘Turn around,’ he said.

She obeyed.

He made some sound low in his throat that could have passed as either approval or not. Then he placed a large hand on her shoulder and turned her back to face him. She noticed he wore the Kinky Boots uniform T-shirt stretched tight across his very broad chest. The shop name was punctuated by the hard pressure of nipples on muscular pecs. The black jeans he wore rode low on his hips. The wave of lust that rushed over her was staggering. How had she not noticed how sexy he was?

Then Finn moved to stand beside him, and she understood. Even though Meinrad was by far the larger man, Finn dominated the room. Finn dominated the space. Finn dominated every second of the last twenty-four hours of her life, as though he had shoved his way in and pushed everything else out. It did things to her, that thought, things that were way beyond lust, things that were a lot more frightening than being possessed by a demon.

He stood gazing down at her from some neutral distance that made her feel very much alone, as though the world and everyone in it had receded, leaving her to await her fate. Eleanor was keeping a low profile. Finn spoke without preamble. ‘Unless something’s hurting you, while Meinrad’s binding you, you’re not to speak. You’re only to move when he moves you. You’re to do exactly as he says. You’re to accept what he does to you in total passivity. Is that clear?’

‘Is he going to fuck me?’ She was embarrassed the minute she said it but it was too late to take it back.

‘If I want him to, yes,’ Finn said.

If Finn wanted him to. Dear God, what was she doing? Suddenly she felt unsteady on her feet. She didn’t know Meinrad. Not like she knew Finn. And yet the thought of the big man hammering her with his enormous cock while she was all trussed up was at least as exciting as it was uncomfortable. The thought that he would do so only at Finn’s bidding excited her even more.

‘There’ll be no safe word,’ Finn continued. ‘All you have to do is tell Meinrad to stop. Or if at any time he thinks you’re not fit to continue, he’ll stop, and that’ll be that. Are we clear?’

She nodded. ‘And what about you?’

‘Meinrad’s acting on my behalf.’ Finn held her in a cool gaze. ‘He’ll do as I say, and so will you, unless you choose at any point not to play.’ For a long moment he studied her, as though he might see something, perhaps some flaw, perhaps some weakness, she didn’t know what. He seemed too far away to tell. She held her breath. Waiting.

At last he blinked and stepped back, still holding her gaze. ‘I’ll ask you again, Jill. Are you sure this is what you want?’

She nodded, afraid to speak for fear her heart would jump out of her throat. Then she remembered to breathe again.

Finn said nothing. He took her hands in his and offered them to Meinrad, who took both her wrists in one huge palm and tied them across one another in a simple looped knot from which she could have easily escaped if she’d wanted. Then he led her to the bed and guided her onto it. There, he secured her hands to the headboard with several feet of slack, enough to allow him to work around her and at the same time allow Finn to observe from every angle. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed Finn had pulled a ladder back chair to the side of the bed and sat emotionlessly looking on. A quick glance was all she got before Meinrad settled her into a kneeling position facing the wall with her hands resting on the headboard.

In the beginning, it felt as though she were being decorated with rope; that’s the best way Jill could describe what Meinrad was doing to her. The rope was softer than she expected it to be and not unpleasant against her bare skin. The embarrassment she felt came, flashed hot, then passed as Meinrad looped the rope and efficiently placed knots above her breasts and then below and then tightened and cinched his efforts until the harnessing effect squeezed and pinched and offered up each of her breasts in a tight little nest of rope, like ripe fruit topped by the cherry-hard rise of her nipples. She’d always had sensitive breasts and to have them so handled and bound made her whole chest burn with a need that was replicated in her pussy.

Meinrad worked in complete silence, his hands moving over her body as though she were nothing more than the canvas for what he was creating. His touch was exacting and his rhythm as he worked was hypnotic. Early on she realised that one of his hands was on her at all times. She remembered basic knot training from her childhood days in the Girl Guides. Right over left and under and through. Left over right and under and through. Rope threaded through competent fingers, rope slid over bare skin, coiling, twisting, binding, descending right over left and left over right, pressing a column of knots down the length of her spine before looping around her waist and embracing her belly. Again. And again. Yes, she was his canvas, and what he created took its shape against her flesh, but his art didn’t happen without exacting a price from him, and in her peripheral vision, as he reached around her to secure a knot over her navel, she caught a glimpse of the erection set tight in his black jeans, and she felt the hitch of his breathing not quite hidden in the rhythm of right over left, left over right. As he crossed the ropes around her body, she felt the heat of his breath whisper along her back next to the weaving and twisting and soft swishing of the rope along her spine.

With a tug of the rope every pore of her body responded to the tightening just as he nestled a knot against the pucker of her bottom and her gasp sounded like a rush of wind in the stretching silence. Meinrad gave a little pull and her clit hardened in empathy with the pressure between her buttocks. Then without warning, he slipped an arm around her and turned her over as he pulled two strands of rope up between her legs, up tight against her upper thighs like the elastic of knickers, or a tightly cinched climber’s harness. That done, with a deft movement of his fingers he secured a knot just over her clit, and this time she cried out in the strange mix of discomfort and arousal. The whole gape of her was pressed between the two strands of rope, knotted at fore and aft like a ship, narrow and thick-hulled.

There was barely time to get used to the strange rub and pressure between her legs, or the knot that felt like the tip of a thick finger attempting to breach her bottom, before Meinrad began to bind her thighs to her lower legs and ankles, making the position in which she knelt mandatory. With each knot, with each looping of the rope, he forced her bent legs further apart until she was wide open, yet at the same time held closed by the ropes between her legs. Bound and kneeling on the bed, she tried to breathe deeply, tried to fight back the panic of her own helplessness, something she had never experienced before. She was dangerously close to hyperventilating, and Eleanor seemed to be completely absent from the whole event.

‘Shall I continue?’ Meinrad asked.

*****

Available from:  

Amazon UK

Amazon US

More links will be added here as they become available:

http://kdgrace.co.uk/books/kinky-boots/

Bio

K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she, cuz otherwise, what would she write about?

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening or walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband recently walked the Coast to Coast rout across England. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots.

K D has erotica published with Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Erotic Review, Ravenous Romance, Sweetmeats Press and others.

K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include The Initiation of Ms Holly and The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Heatwave trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Book two, Riding the Ether, is now available.

K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall.

http://kdgrace.co.uk

http://www.facebook.com/KDGraceAuthor

http://www.twitter.com/KD_Grace

Sunday Snog - Hot Spell

Happy Sunday!

I've been revisiting my paranormal novella Hot Spell, since I'm working on another story set in the same world. So I thought you might like a snog from that book - not a lip-to-lip kiss, but definitely an oral extravaganza!

After you've read my contribution to the day's snoggery, hop on over to Sunday Snog Central to read Victoria's offering, as well as lots more sexy kisses. 

Blurb for Hot Spell

The flames of passion are more than a metaphor

The city swelters in the grip of an unseasonable heat wave. Sylvie endures her solitary urban existence for the sake of her career, but the prospect of a hot, lonely three day weekend proves unbearable and she flees east to the pine-shrouded mountains. Far more at home in nature than in the city, Sylvie doesn't mind being alone in the wilderness, but she's not the only being haunting the glades and the trails.

Aidan is fiercely attracted to the voluptuous beauty he finds sun bathing nude in a high meadow, but he must resist his overwhelming desire for the sake of her safety. The sun-bronzed man with the red-gold hair is cursed with power he knows will destroy her if they give full rein to their passion. Can Sylvie refrain from tempting him? Or will she risk being being literally consumed by love?  

A gasp…and not her own. Her eyes flew open.

“Don’t stop,” he cried. A man loomed over her—a man with a deep tan, a blond ponytail and eyes flecked with gold. The man from the creek.

Embarrassment flooded her. A flush spread like wildfire across her skin. She snatched her hand from her sex. Musk welled up, filling her nostrils. The stranger’s eyes were nailed to her trembling body.

“You don’t need to stop.” He sank to his knees between her splayed feet. “Please—you look so amazing…” He reached out as though to touch her, then stopped himself.

“I know you.” He wore the uniform of the National Park Service, but she’d recognise that powerful frame, that muscular grace, anywhere.

“I’d like to know you,” he murmured. “I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful.” He smiled. It seemed to Sylvie that the sun had been clouded till then and was just beginning to shine. “Don’t be shy. Go ahead and pleasure yourself…”

“I don’t want to,” she told him, unable to look away from those gold-glinting eyes. But she did want to, wanted to stretch and writhe before him, lewd and proud, showing him what her lush body was capable of.

“Touch yourself,” he urged.

“No.” Sylvie propped herself up on her elbows, spreading her thighs wider. “You do it.”

She saw a kind of struggle in his face. She cupped her breasts, offering them, willing to do anything to lure him towards her pussy. He lunged forwards, strong fingers clamping down on her thighs. He was closer now and she could see his sculpted features, a shiny scar on his temple, the fierce gleam in his eyes. His luscious mouth opened then closed again. He licked his lips.

“Please,” she begged, holding her weeping pussy open so that he could see the slippery pink folds.

With a strangled moan, he bent his mouth to her soaked sex. She felt his tongue like a lash of fire, streaking through her cleft and then curling round her centre. All at once she was on the edge again, ready to ignite. He sucked her clit into his mouth, prodding it with his tongue. Meanwhile, his fingers kneaded her thighs hard enough to leave bruises.

Her cunt was seething. It would boil over in an instant. The man buried his face deep in her pussy, heedless of his own need to breathe. His nose mashed her aching clit and then everything went white as climax raged through her.

He was still licking as the shocks died away. Sylvie’s pussy fluttered and twitched while the stranger nibbled, stroked, and probed her depths. Usually she was too sensitive to touch herself after an orgasm, but now she found that she craved even more intense sensation. Her hunger had only increased. The cataclysmic surge of pleasure that had rocked her seemed only a step towards a fiercer climax.

The stranger devoured her as though starved for her sustenance. He sucked her labia into his mouth and tongued her hole, sending new sparks racing through her. At the same time, he teased the inside of her thighs and tickled her curly bush.

“More,” she gasped, sinking her fingers into his hair and pressing his face to her cunt. She arched up to give him better access. He responded by reaching beneath her to cradle her butt in his big hands. Now he held her sex to his mouth as though eating a juicy piece of fruit. The strength she sensed in those hands only drove her higher.

Tendrils of fiery pleasure scorched her. She was about to explode once more. She’d never felt anything like this—this kind of heat and urgency—even in her most passionate encounters. Who was this man, who knew her body so well that he could bring her to the brink of release in just a few moments?

Her climax beckoned and she strained towards it, knowing it would be more extreme than the last. He squeezed her ripe ass, obviously enjoying her ample body. Let me carry you, she heard him say, though of course he could not have said anything with his mouth full of her pussy-flesh. Somehow, though, she understood that she needed to relax. She opened wider, letting him in, letting him lead her towards ecstasy.

Don’t fight it. Let go.

Trails of flame licked along her thighs and circled her raging clit. His mouth was a furnace—melting her, refining her into a creature of pure delight.

Road Rage and Women Drivers

By Margaret Tanner (Guest Blogger)

I write mainly historical romance. My only contemporary is Holly and the Millionaire, which is set against a background of the war in Afghanistan. Books We Love Limited has recently released a revised and updated version. 

What is Margaret Tanner raving about you might say? The war in Afghanistan, road rage and women drivers? What is the connection there? Well, none really. I just thought I would blog about something different, and take off my historical hat and wear a modern one for a change.

Recently, I witnessed a car accident.  A truck ran up the back of a woman’s car outside my work place. Luckily no one was hurt, but this incident brought to the surface something that happened to me more than twenty years ago.

I was involved in a serious accident when a fully laden semi trailer ran into the back of my car, virtually demolishing it. How I survived was a miracle, how I was able to walk away with just a few bruises was even more miraculous. Even the emergency workers who arrived on the scene couldn’t believe it. My car was crushed, the semi-trailer jack-knifed and ended upside down, and the driver had to climb out the window, but all I could blubber about was losing my shoes.  They weren’t even designer ones, just the low-heeled type I always wore to work. “Stupid woman,” I heard a by-stander remark. “Worrying about her bloody shoes.”
 

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Everyone knows me – the lady who sits on or just below the speed limit. The one who gets tail-gated and abused by impatient road users who ignore speed signs.

I always leave a reasonable distance between my car and the one in front of me, only to be out-maneuvered by someone else squeezing into the gap. When the skies open up and the rain buckets down, giving the road surface the texture of an ice-skating rink, I reduce speed, while others roar past leaving fountains of water in their wake.

There are those who abuse me for stopping a few feet from a railway crossing when in a long line of traffic, instead of waiting in the middle of the tracks.  Everyone knows the cars in front will move before the train comes. Perish the thought that when the lights do change, someone might stall and hold up the flow, so I’m left like a sitting duck at the mercy of the boom gates crashing on to my roof, or the 5.08 express train, running me into the ground. Selfish woman driver that I am – don’t I realize everyone else is in a hurry?
   
Why do I get upset when some maniac passes me on the wrong side of the road? After all I can easily slam on my brakes, and let them in front of me when the third lane they have created peters out.  Tough luck if the truck almost sitting an inch away from my bumper bar can’t stop, but a few precious seconds gained, a few extra vehicles passed, means a lot when a driver's in a rush. Don’t I realize how busy everyone is?

The lights are green in the distance; they change to amber when I am meters away.  How can a woman be so stupid? All you have to do is accelerate, as long as your front wheels are at the intersection when the lights turn red, it’ll be o.k.  The tooting driver behind me is obviously running late, and there are no police cars around.
   
One might be moved to ask what all the fuss is about. Everyone knows you have to take risks on the road, show the machine you’re driving who the boss is, intimidate other road users so they know how tough you are.  After all, you’ll never have an accident because you’re such an expert driver.
   
A metamorphosis seems to come over many people when they climb behind the wheel. Their well-mannered, easygoing ways evaporate.  They become ruthless predators, waiting to pounce on some unsuspecting victim, whose only crime is that they try to obey all the road laws.

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Margaret Tanner is a multi-published Australian author. She loves delving into the pages of history as she carries out research for her historical romance novels, and prides herself on being historically accurate. No book is too old or tattered for her to trawl through, no museum too dusty, or cemetery too overgrown. Many of her novels have been inspired by true events, with one being written around the hardships and triumphs of her pioneering ancestors in frontier Australia.

She won the 2007 and 2009 Author of the Year at AussieAuthors.com. Her novel Frontier Wife won the Best Historical Romance Novel at the 2010 Readers Favorite Award, and another novel, Wild Oats was a 2011 Finalist in the EPIC awards. In December 2012 an un-published manuscript was short listed in English publisher, ChocLit’s, Find An Aussie Star Competition

Margaret is married with three grown up sons, and two gorgeous little granddaughters.
Outside of her family and friends, writing is her passion.

Website:  http://www.margarettanner.com/

Publishers: Books We Love, The Wild Rose Press and Whiskey Creek Press.

Holly and the Millionaire

Fleeing from her ruthless English in-laws who are intent on stealing her child, Holly Kirwan boards a flight home to Australia and meets Justin Devereux. They are instantly attracted to each other.

Justin doesn’t want a permanent woman in his life, particularly one with a baby in tow. Holly, still grieving for her soldier husband who was killed in Afghanistan, doesn’t want to be disloyal to his memory.

Can the young war widow and the commitment shy tycoon ever find happiness together?