Monday, September 12, 2016

Five Star Review for G&V (#5star #review #LASR)


I'm feeling pretty good today. Just got word that my most recent novel, The Gazillionaire and the Virgin, got a 5 star review over at Long and Short Reviews. 

To quote the reviewer: This one has a plot that is totally different and not what I expected.

Since that was what I was aiming for, I'm really delighted!

Want to read a snippet? Happy to oblige! This one's from Theo's point of view:



The firmness molding my back and butt suggests I’m stretched out on the bed. Have I been asleep? I don’t recall lying down, indeed, don’t remember anything for the space of several breaths. Then it all comes crashing back, a tsunami of embarrassment, fear and regret. The fund raiser. Rachel. Oh, my God!

“Theo? Are you awake?”

She keeps her voice low, as though she understands the pain bouncing around in the hollows of my skull. Memory flutters back in bits and pieces. A dizzy, endless journey. Struggling not to vomit on Rachel’s upholstery. I crack open my eyelids, squinting into the welcome dimness.


“Rachel?” I rasp, my mouth dry as the Santa Anas. All I can see is the featureless ceiling. “What happened?”

When I raise my head, seeking her, the room spins and my stomach objects strenuously. She’s there, though, leaning toward me, seated on one of my dining room chairs, which she’s dragged to the side of the bed. Her curls have come loose from the glittering clips she used to tame them, and her make-up is smudged. She’s unspeakably gorgeous.

Despite my sorry state, the headache and the cotton mouth and the dizziness, my cock stirs inside the monkey suit I’m apparently still wearing. Ah, the tenaciousness of lust!

~~~

Buy links? But of course!





Barnes and Noble

All Romance

Kobo

Smashwords

iTunes

Google Books

Excessica

 

Sunday, September 11, 2016

Sunday Snog 243: Mastering Maya (#bdsm #switch #kiss)


Happy Sunday! I’m back with another sexy Sunday Snog, this time from my contemporary BDSM erotic romance Mastering Maya.

Mistress Maya bears the nickname "The Ice Queen". Her precision in administering discipline, her skill in evoking a submissive's devotion, and her unshakable self-control are legendary in the small but active Boston kink community.

From the moment newcomer Dom Shark sees Maya flogging a sub at Club Inferno, he's obsessed with her beauty and power. He'd determined to break through her defenses and bring her the same release she grants to the lucky slaves she tops. When Maya dismisses Shark as young and inexperienced, he offers her a challenge: a night together, during which he'll show her what it means to be mastered. If he fails to bring her to new heights of sensation, he agrees to become her slave.

What begins as a test of wills evolves into something deeper and more intense. As the younger man uses his insight and skill to coax Maya into submission, he comes to understand the wounded spirit hiding behind her mask of control. Can he make Maya trust him enough to surrender? Or will the flawless, untouchable dominatrix take possession of his body as well as his heart?

When you’re done savoring my snog, click over to Victoria’s SundaySnog Central for more delicious kisses!



Maya led the way to her parlour, with her visitor trailing behind. His eyes wandered down her back, over the swell of her buttocks—she felt the weight of his gaze, though he never touched her. Lubrication welled from her pussy and trickled down the insides of her thighs. She wore nothing under the caftan, as he had instructed.

“Stop.” She halted as suddenly as if he’d tugged on a leash. Behind her, he gathered her heavy tresses in one hand, drawing them aside to bare her neck. Chill air touched the normally protected skin, then warmth and wetness. The kiss he planted at her nape sent shivers of pleasure racing to her pussy. His other hand gripped her upper arm—the strength of that grip making her gasp—while he licked along the curve running from her hairline to her shoulder. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to bask in the sensation of liquid heat.

He pushed her loose garment off her shoulder. Was he starting so soon? Then she yelped as he sank his teeth into her deltoid.

“What the fuck?” She whirled to face him. “That hurt!”

“BDSM often involves some pain.” His mildness infuriated her. “But, of course, you know that. You agreed I could do as I wish, didn’t you?”

The bite throbbed in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Her clit seemed to pulse in time. “Yes, yes. I’m sorry, you startled me.” In her flats, she was six inches shorter than he. She gazed up at his face, trying to read him. The dangerous gleam she saw in his eyes sent new shivers dancing through her.

“And have you changed your mind?”

“Um—uh, no.”

“No…?” He waited, clearly expectant, leaving her momentarily disoriented.

“No, I haven’t changed my mind.” She tried to move into the parlour, but he held her fast.

“No, what?”

“Huh? What?” Light dawned. He was waiting for her to acknowledge his dominance. Could she do it? It had been so very long. She could barely choke out the words.

“No, Sir.”

A torrent of long-denied emotion came rushing back—the delicious helplessness that came with accepting a Master. She fought against the flood, but it was too powerful, too deep. She squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the tears. He mustn’t see—mustn’t know how much that one word had cost her.

He cupped her cheek with his palm. “Are you all right, Maya? Do you want to call this off?”

“No, no, I’m sorry… It’s just…”

He stroked her hair back from her forehead. “It’s okay. I understand, pet.”

Pet? Who did he think he was? He didn’t know her! She tried to focus her anger, to generate some cutting retort, but now his mouth claimed hers, and it was so marvellous she couldn’t muster the energy to fight.

Stephen sealed his firm, mobile lips to hers. His tongue poked and probed, testing her willingness to fulfil her promise of submission. She opened to his determined assault, not because she’d agreed to but because she wanted more of his sweet heat. He tasted like fresh mint, clean and sharp. His aftershave—the same scent she’d noticed in the café—somehow reminded her of summer afternoons, sun-baked grass with a hint of honey.

The kiss deepened. He snaked his arms around her, tight as the bonds he’d promised and impossibly strong. He gripped her ass, digging his fingers through the velvet and forcing her body against his. His cock was a lump of stone pressing into her belly. A hungry gulf ached between her thighs, dripping with need. The satin of his tuxedo jacket was smooth and cool under her palms as she held on to him for dear life.

He wasn’t rough, brutal or even demanding, but the ravishing kiss made his point clear. He was the one in charge.

When he finally released her, Maya found herself panting for breath. He stepped away from her and she almost cried out at the vanishing warmth. Pull yourself together, she scolded herself. Don’t make it so easy for him.


Saturday, September 10, 2016

Food Porn (#bdsm #decadence #gourmet @ElizabethABlack)


By Elizabeth Black (Guest Blogger)

Food porn plays an important part in my new erotic romance novel No Restraint, which is about a young woman named Alex Craig in search of her dream job, and she finds it in the company called Babes. Not only does she find the perfect job, she meets a man who turns her life upside-down but in a good way. That man, Jackson Beale, introduces her to the decadence in life - something she's already familiar with but she needs to find a partner who appreciates la dolce vita as much as she does. And does he ever! Jackson caters to Alex's developing gourmet palate with delectable foods like gourmandize cheese, fine Bordeaux, lobster, and chocolate truffles with creamy ganache centers. Of course, Alex and Jackson savor foods that appeal to me, which is only natural since I created them and they are an extension of me.

I didn't start out as a gourmet lover. I grew up eating Mexicorn and Jello salads. Suffice to say, I did not have a very sophisticated palate. My introduction into fine food began with my eight grade French class. First off, I was learning French, which is a classy language. Romance lives in the French. After all, once you see Paris, you never go back. At the time the teacher was introducing the class to fine French food – the likes of which I had never before heard of let alone tasted – we went to a quirky French restaurant in Baltimore, Maryland named Martick's. The place was so quirky you couldn't just walk in. You needed to make a reservation. The building looked like someone's house, and the front door was locked. After you ring the doorbell, a maître 'd let's you inside. From that point on, it was magnifique.

I ate boeuf bourgignon, French bread, escargot, and chocolate mousse. I'd never tasted anything the likes of this before, and my mouth went into a food coma. Keep in mind I was used to boiled potatoes and cream chipped beef. Bland, bland, bland. I discovered flavors I didn't know existed. From that point on, I ordered food in restaurants I'd either never had before or never heard of. Since that day, I've had cassoulet, alligator, gnocchi, rattlesnake, elk, buffalo, dragon fruit, fresh lychees, and much more. I draw the line at durian fruit. I may eat that stuff on a dare, but I am too chickenshit to try it now. Durian fruit is so noxious hotels won't allow you to bring it in. Yes, it supposedly smells that bad. It is said to taste and smell like a cross between rotten onions and smelly gym socks. Yuck. A local Asian grocer sells it for only $5.00 and so far I've resisted. I may give in someday, but not any time soon.

I've also taken to growing my own herbs, peppers, and as of this year, tomatoes. My outdoor potted garden consists of pineapple sage, basil, tarragon, marjoram, mint, four varieties of thyme, sage, oregano, bay, and rosemary. Then there are the jalapeños and cayenne peppers. Don't forget the four varieties of tomatoes – Garden Gems, Garden Treasures, Best Boy, and Roma. They are much smaller than I expected they'd be. No tomato sauce this year. Those are salad tomatoes. I also have a six foot tall avocado tree that I plan to bring in for the winter. How I'm going to get that behemoth across the threshold is beyond me. The birch tree I found growing wild is doing well and it can live in its pot outside. I've kept an eye on it for three years while it grew in an abandoned pot outdoors. It likes its new home. Growing my own herbs and veggies makes me appreciate my own good food even more. 

 

Jackson blindfolds Alex to recharge her taste buds. He instructs her to concentrate on not only taste but heat and texture of food so that she sees it in an entirely new, different, and exciting light. No more wolfing down your lunch so that you can get back to the grindstone. Eating is an experience to be savored. Once her taste buds are reawakened, her other senses follow suit – and then her sex becomes downright awe-inspiring. Living in the moment is the key – enjoying what life throws at you, including what you can't control. Taking the time to see what joy life has to offer and not letting opportunities pass you buy or let preconceived notions from terse people who cluck cluck at your explorations negatively impact you. Life is here for the taking. All you need do is grab and enjoy. Jackson and Alex grow to do all that – together.

Buy the book at Amazon!



Blurb

Alex Craig accepts a new job at a high-end sex doll company called Babes. Babes' dolls are high-end, expensive silicone love toys. Working at Babes is like working for a bacchanal. The company's culture is all about decadence, enjoying the good life, exciting sex, and enticing food and drink. Alex meets Jackson Beale, one of the company's vice-presidents. Jackson takes Alex on a new and exciting journey of carnal pleasure. He introduces her to new tactile and kinky pleasures, and she relishes her excitement. The world takes on an entirely new meaning and importance to Alex as she learns what she's been missing in her life.

Excerpt

Jackson sat to her right and Tyler took the seat to her left. Elena took the seat directly across from her, and before Alex could thank her again, Elena spoke.

‘We want to play a little game with you. Yes, we ordered your favorite foods, but we want you to taste them as never before.’ Elena pulled a dark purple silk scarf from her breast pocket. ‘Jackson, would you do the honors, since it’s clear that Alex prefers you.’ She handed the scarf to Jackson, who turned to Alex.

‘Ah, I love this game,’ Jackson said. ‘I’m going to tie this scarf around you. We don’t want you to see. Bring your other senses alive for us. We’ll show you how.’

He folded the scarf several times and then tied it around her head. Try as she might, she saw nothing when she opened her eyes. Even the bottom of the scarf where she expected to be able to peek revealed nothing. Jackson was careful to not cover her nostrils so she could breathe.

His intentions were actually much more creative – and arousing. She heard the sound of a lobster shell cracking, and before she knew it, someone touched her on the shoulder. ‘Savor the taste as much as you can,’ Tyler whispered in her ear. ‘First, take in the smell. There’s nothing as good as the smell of steaming lobster.’

Inhaling, she took in the scent of lobster and what she suspected was melting butter. Something warm brushed her lips and as they parted, a morsel of food reached past her lips and fell upon her tongue. She took the morsel and chewed as the taste of delectable lobster and sweet clarified butter melted on her tongue. Wanting to enhance her eating experience, she chewed slowly, savoring the taste, texture, and smell of her food. Lobster had never tasted so delicious.

‘So what do you think?’ She felt Jackson’s fingers brush her cheek as she chewed and she bent her head against his palm. Jackson touched her here and there, on her face or shoulder or arm, keeping contact with her now that the scarf blinded her.

Each touch brought forth exciting shivers from her body. Her senses of touch, smell and taste worked hard, overcompensating for her lack of sight. The air in the room flowed over her skin, chilling her in the hot weather. The smell of the food revved up her appetite, and feeling Jackson sitting so close to her she could smell his cologne awakened her sexual appetite.

‘That lobster was incredible,’ she said. ‘I’ve never experienced food like this before.’

Someone’s hand – presumably Jackson’s since he sat to her right – brushed against her upper arm, caressing her with an intimate touch. ‘That’s the answer we wanted,’ Jackson said. ‘We want you to experience your senses as never before. Now, for another morsel …’

About Elizabeth

Elizabeth Black lives a dream life in a small home on the Massachusetts coast. She tries to go to the beach every day. When in the Zone, she writes erotic fiction, romance, dark fiction, and horror. She aims for la Dolce Vita and lives every day as if it were a feast. She shared her life with her husband, son, and three cats. She is published by Xcite Books, Cleis Press, Circlet Press, Bold Strokes Books, and other publishers. You may find her on the web in the following locations:



SIGN UP FOR MY MAILING LIST ON MY WEB SITE

Elizabeth Black - Blog and Web Site

Elizabeth Black - Facebook

Elizabeth Black/E. A. Black - Facebook Page (Like me please!)

Elizabeth Black – Twitter (Follow me please!)

Elizabeth Black - Erotic Fiction Amazon Author Page


Friday, September 9, 2016

Is Thin Sexy? (#anorexia #sexuality #culture)

Skinny model

"A woman can never be too thin, too rich or have too many silk blouses." So goes the old saying. Every day women get told that being thin is the secret to being desirable.

Don't buy it.

Sexual attractiveness is in the eye of the beholder, but I know from personal experience that our cultural obsession with thinness can be deadly.

In high school, I was what might be called pleasingly plump. Zaftig, as my Jewish grandmother would say, with more than ample curves for a teenager. Like many teens, I thought that I was fat. I always wanted to be thinner, but somehow, I could never manage it. I enjoyed my mom’s cooking too much.

Then, in my senior year, faced with all the stress of applying to colleges and the uncertainties of moving into the adult world, I began to lose weight. First I stopped eating bread and potatoes. Then I stopped adding milk to my coffee, drinking it black with artificial sweeteners. I ate all the salad I could put away, leaving the meat on my plate – cut into small pieces and spread around so that my mother wouldn’t notice. I’d check the scales every day, feeling pride whenever the numbers dropped, guilt and self-disgust when they didn’t. I still recall my intense flush of pleasure when I went for my annual checkup and weighed in at ninety-nine pounds. I’m just a bit over five feet tall, so my doctor was not alarmed. I was thrilled.

During my senior summer, I worked as a clerk in a grocery store, ate raw cucumbers and drank diet soda for lunch, and dropped more weight. By the time September rolled around, I was in the mid-eighties. My parents refused to let me enter university unless I gained weight. I got back up to ninety-two pounds, started school, but dropped out in a month, unable to muster the physical and emotional energy required.

My life for the next year and a half was spent in a limbo of medical and psychiatric institutions. At one point, I dropped below eighty pounds. I stopped menstruating. My limbs were grotesque sticks. My face was gaunt as a skull. My hair started to fall out. I was weak, constipated, subject to palpitations and anxiety attacks. I read voraciously during that period – that was about all that I could do. I don’t recall anything now. Zilch. My brain didn’t have enough nutrients to register new memories. In retrospect, the whole period is shrouded in a fog.

Anorexia had not yet become fashionable. I spent three months on the crisis ward of a state psychiatric hospital with suicidal housewives and drug addicts. I had to learn to trust my therapist when he told me that it was okay to eat. I had to suppress my feelings of disgust when I saw my weight climb back into a healthy range, and to deny the supposed evidence of my distorted self-image when I viewed my “fat” body in the mirror.



I was one of the lucky ones. I didn’t die. I didn’t suffer any permanent damage, other than my loss of memory. I have personally known anorexics who were not so fortunate. Without treatment, anorexia is fatal 20% of the time. Even with treatment, the mortality rate is 3%. With treatment, only about 60% of anorexics fully recover. (http://www.mirror-mirror.org). It took more than a decade for my body image and my eating habits to return to “normal”.

Can I blame my anorexia on the pervasive myth that “a woman can’t be too thin”? Not directly, of course. Research has shown that anorexia is as much about control and fear as it is about food. Still, if I hadn’t felt fat, I wouldn’t have started to diet, giving the obsession a chance to take hold. And I don’t think that I would have thought I was fat if I had not been continually bombarded by images of skinny women who were hailed as the ideal of beauty.

As the average weight of super models and movie stars has dropped, the prevalence of anorexia has risen dramatically. Is there a relationship? I think so. I was seventeen when I was diagnosed. Now ten year old anorexics are becoming increasingly common. One study found that 81% percent of ten year old girls and 46% of nine year olds dieted. The fear of being fat is so overwhelming that young girls have indicated in surveys that they are more afraid of becoming fat than they are of cancer, nuclear war or losing their parents. (National Eating Disorder Information Center, Canada http://www.nedic.ca/)

So what, if anything, does this have to do with sex? I personally find skinny women far less sexy than ones who are more well-endowed. It occurs to me that the glorification of being thin in our culture could be an unconscious repudiation of sex. Today’s models and movie stars, with their narrow hips, flat stomachs, and A-cup breasts, look more like children or young boys than adult women. They are cool, graceful, elegant – but asexual.

They are safe. They offer no ample flesh to tempt the mind and raise the temperature, no perilous curves that lead you down the road to sin and perdition.

You may laugh, finding my thesis absurd. I have to tell you, as I watched the pounds drop off, I felt pure and clean. Virtuous. My adolescent sexual fantasies disappeared at the same time, melting away with my fat and muscle. Eating became the cardinal sin, because it nurtured the flesh, the evil blubber that threatened to consume me. Whenever the attendants in the hospital made me eat, I felt dirty, disgusting, smothered by my own body.

I’m intensely grateful that that I escaped from that madness. Even now, it’s all too vivid when I bring back the memories.

Now when I see a woman walking down the street or on the subway with the tell-tale bony knees, wasted arms and protruding cheekbones, a chill runs through me. I want to shake her, show her a mirror, strip away the hallucinations that make her believe she is still obese. When my eleven year old niece complains about how fat she is, I choke back my scream of frustration. You’re beautiful, Allie, I tell her, absolutely perfect, not fat at all.

With a sinking heart, I know that she doesn’t believe me. 
 

Thursday, September 8, 2016

Sneak Peek: Pure of Heart by Auria Jourdain (#historical #giveaway #France @AuriaJourdain)


Pure of Heart Cover

Blurb

A ghost child left to die in a French forest, Contesse Blanchefort seeks her long-buried past after her adoptive father dies at the Bastille. Embarking on a quest across England with a pagan woman and a rogue Gypsy, Contesse falls ill in London, and her companions are forced to seek help. With overwhelming compassion, physician’s apprentice Eric McEwan nurses Contesse back to health, but discovers that her exotic accent and pale features set his heart ablaze...her mere touch brands his soul. Passion blooms as the two discover their love for one another—with disastrous consequences.

Upon his expulsion from Cambridge, Eric must battle his domineering grandfather’s wrath. When family tragedy strikes, he must return to his provincial home and confront his abusive past. Carrying on with her quest, Contesse struggles to free herself from her childhood as sinister details are revealed. Without Eric, she’s lost. But love is strong...can they conquer their demons to find one another again?

Excerpt

Eric wished the Earth would swallow him whole. He’d spent his entire life under the control of his father, and when he moved to London, he set out to finally be his own man. But here he was…still living under someone else's reign, always a disappointment and never able to please. His grandfather had the money and power to sabotage his entire future. And what did I do...a grown man? I stood there and let him berate me! Eric hated his grandfather—but most of all, he despised himself.

Ripping the cravat from his neck, he jerked his overcoat and vest from his person and threw them to the hay-covered floor. Bellowing in fury, he picked up a stray horseshoe from the dirty straw, hurling it through a window with savage force. He sank to the floor and buried his head in his hands, anguish piercing his heart.

A few moments later, Contesse opened the barn door. Eric looked up at her, staring at her intently. Tears whispered at her lashes, and he chastised himself. Here he was, sitting on the dirty ground, feeling sorry for himself. She didn’t deserve a man as cowardly as him. Realizing he said the words out loud, he scowled.

With her head held high, Contesse padded over to him in her bare stockings and sat on her haunches, grabbing his hands. “You are more than worthy of me, Eric. Edouard Blanchefort would be proud I’ve chosen a good man with a pure heart.”

About the Author


History buff, Francophile, and hopeless romantic that demands an HEA—it’s the perfect mixture for writing romance! With fond childhood memories of reading on quiet afternoons, I loved the "happily ever after" sweet teen romances, but I quickly plunged into the world of historical romance—my get-away-from-real-life transporter. Add in a degree in Political Studies with six years of French, and twenty years later, I’m living my dream. With three published novels, 7 finished, and several more in my head, I have years of work ahead of me!

Facebook: Auria Jourdain Books https://www.facebook.com/auriajourdainbooks/

Twitter: @AuriaJourdain – https://twitter.com/AuriaJourdain






Auria will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.


a Rafflecopter giveaway