Wednesday, April 22, 2020

Sign Up for Charity Sunday! #BlogHop #CharitySunday

This is the sign....
 Photo by Austin Chan on Unsplash

This coming Sunday, the 26th of April, will be the next Charity Sunday. 
  

Charity Sunday is a meme designed to give authors and bloggers a chance to give back to the world—as well as, hopefully, attract new readers.  

How does it work? Each participant selects a favorite charity. Before Charity Sunday, you should prepare a blog post that: 1) talks about the charity and why you support it; 2) provides a link to the charity; 3) includes an excerpt from one of your books; 4) includes the code to show links to other participating blogs.

It’s fun if you can make the excerpt relate somehow to your chosen charity, but this isn’t required.

For every comment left on your post, you commit to giving some amount to the relevant charity. The specific charity and the amount to donate are up to you. You can set an upper limit to your donation if you want.

If you’d like to participate in the next Charity Sunday, just sign up using the Linky List below. Please be sure that the link you enter will lead directly to your Charity Sunday post, not just to the home page of your blog. 

For more detailed instructions, go here:  

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2019/08/sign-up-for-charity-sunday.html


You can get my Charity Sunday banner here.

For an example, check out last month's Charity Sunday post.

Tuesday, April 21, 2020

Win an audio copy of Hard Drive by M. Christian! #audioerotica #ScienceFiction #Giveaway


 Hard Drive Audio cover


Just popping in to share a new giveaway from my esteemed friend and colleague M. Christian.

He’s giving away an audio copy of his amazing sci fi collection, Hard Drive – probably the best science fiction erotica I’ve ever read. (And I’m not just saying that because he’s my pal!)

The audio book is published by Wordwooze, the same people who have brought my work to audio, so I can vouch for the exceptional quality.

Here’s the blurb.

The ultimate erotic wetware and hardware cyberpunk adventure!

A collection of stories spiced with sexual implants, android lust, chrome-plated cyborgs, smart plastic toys, cybernetic wet dreams, and neurotrophic aphrodisiacs…

With The Bachelor Machine, M.Christian set the gold standard for erotic science fiction: stories that pushed the absolute limits of both outrageous sex and fantastic technology.

His follow-up collection, Skin Effect, raised it even further: a book that Publisher’s Weekly praised as ‘Future technology’s ability to alter the very nature of our humanity-and the ways those changes interact with sex-shapes this solid collection of futuristic stories
from erotica author M.Christian.’

Now M.Christian has personally selected his favorite stories from The Bachelor Machine, Skin Effect, and his other erotica collections to create the ultimate celebration of sexually-explicit cyberpunk science fiction: Hard Drive.

With a special introduction by science fiction legend Arthur Byron Cover, Hard Drive is an audiobook that will take you to the outer reaches of BDSM, gay, lesbian, and straight sexuality in the near and far future: worlds of brilliant imagination, relentless passion, and
supernova heat!”

For information on how to enter, just go here:



Immortal heroes and heroines... #Giveaway #SciFi #Pulp #EdgarRiceBurroughs @Betts_Matt


Alien Planet

The First Universe of its Kind....

A century before the term "crossover" became a buzzword in popular culture, Edgar Rice Burroughs created the first expansive, fully cohesive literary universe. Coexisting in this vast cosmos was a pantheon of immortal heroes and heroines - Tarzan of the Apes, Jane Clayton, John Carter, Dejah Thoris, Carson Napier, and David Innes being only the best known among them. In Burroughs' 80-plus novels, their epic adventures transported them to the strange and exotic worlds of Barsoom, Amtor, Pellucidar, Caspak, and Va-nah, as well as the lost civilizations of Earth and even realms beyond the farthest star. Now the Edgar Rice Burroughs Universe expands in an all-new series of canonical novels written by today's talented authors!



Blurb

Carson of Venus is back in the first novel of groundbreaking Edgar Rice Burroughs Universe series!

When a mysterious enemy attacks his adopted nation of Korva, Earthman Carson Napier discovers his own arrival on Venus years ago may have unknowingly triggered the strike. The invaders' trail of death and destruction leads Carson and his beloved princess Duare headlong into battle against a seemingly invincible, primordial race. But that is not Carson's only challenge, for an uncanny phenomenon has entangled him with two strange individuals from beyond spacetime. Will Carson be able to solve the mysteries of his past and the enigmatic visitors before the entire planet descends into chaos?

Also includes the bonus novelette "Pellucidar: Dark of the Sun" by Christopher Paul Carey, introducing Victory Harben, the ERB Universe's newest heroine:

The very principle of physics behind the Gridley Wave has mysteriously failed, cutting off all communication between the hollow world of Pellucidar and the outer crust, and now inventor Jason Gridley must seek help from his brilliant young protégé, Victory Harben. Together they recover timeworn records from deep in the ruins of a dead Mahar city, hoping to use knowledge of Pellucidar's former reptilian overlords to jumpstart the Gridley Wave. But when their experiment goes terribly wrong, Jason and Victory suddenly find themselves drawn into the inscrutable machinations of an ancient evil.

Excerpt

Fire and ash blackened his armored bands, but he advanced without the appearance of concern. The black smoke rippled off him as he stepped from the fiery mess. Each step of his large feet seemed to hasten the floor cracks that still moved in our direction.

Stop!” I shouted. “This is a grand fight we have going on here, but if you advance any farther, you’ll shatter this floor and hurl us both to our deaths.” He continued forward as if he hadn’t heard me, one heavy step after another. I looked to the broad strip of white rock that encircled the room, hoping it would be sturdier than the glasslike material that composed the floor.

At that moment, the whole building seemed to shake. There came a tremendous cracking sound, and the section of the flooring upon which I stood lurched down several feet with a sickening screech. I flung myself to one side and grabbed a thick section of the clear floor, holding on with one hand as I watched the great chunk of glass upon which I had just been standing twist and turn on the way to the ground far below.

Fingers bleeding, I clutched the sharp edges in order to keep myself from following the broken section down. The sounds of combat around me fell away until I heard nothing but my own breathing, ragged and desperate, fearing the slightest breeze would cause my fragile handhold to break free.

About the Author

Matt Betts worked for years in radio as an on-air personality, anchor and reporter. His fiction and poetry have appeared in numerous journals and anthologies. His work includes the steampunk novel, Odd Men Out, urban fantasy crime novel Indelible Ink, and his recent cryptid/horror novel White Anvil: Sasquatch Onslaught. His current release Carson of Venus: The Edge of all Worlds continues a series begun by Edgar Rice Burroughs.

Buy Links

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2RFrcGa 

Social Links
 
Twitter:@Betts_Matt






Enter to win a physical copy of the paperback of Carson of Venus: The Edge of All Worlds. Available for the continental US.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Sunday, April 19, 2020

Sizzling Sunday: The Witches of Gloucester - #Lesfic #Fantasy #Audio #FreeBook #SizzlingSunday


Sizzling Sunday banner

For today’s edition of Sizzling Sunday, I have an intense FFF excerpt for you, from The Witches of Gloucester. This book is free at Smashwords, through tomorrow. I also have a few free audio downloads available. If you want one, leave me a comment with your email!

Its not about power. Its about love.

The historic port of Gloucester, Massachusetts has a special charm, due at least in part to its resident witches. For decades, raven-maned Marguerite and red-headed Beryl have lived among its hard-working inhabitants, making magic and mischief. Love and sex fuel their supernatural abilities, but duality limits their power. To reach their full potential, they need a third witch to complete their circle.

Rejected as a nymphomaniac by her puritanical boyfriend, Emmeline escapes to Gloucester to work on her PhD thesis. From the moment she arrives, Marguerite and Beryl sense her erotic vitality and unrecognized paranormal talent. The platinum-haired beauty may well be the enchantress they have been awaiting for so long. Now they need to show Em that her prodigious libido is a gift, not a liability, and to persuade her that her destiny lies in the sea-girt town they guard, and in their arms.



Beryl slid off the sofa to sit cross-legged on the carpet. “Why don’t you come down here? Across from me, that’s right. We’re going to play a game.”

A game? What kind of game?” Memories of high school spin-the-bottle flashed through Emmeline’s mind. I wouldnt mind kissing Beryl, she mused. Or Marguerite either. She’d never been attracted to women before – at least not consciously – but now the notion seemed the next natural step.

Cards,” Marguerite answered. She lowered herself to join them on the floor, tucking her legs underneath her, then placed an over-sized deck in the center of the triangle formed by their bodies.
An intricate design decorated the back of the cards, full of stars and planets, fanciful animals and twining vines. The illustration, plus the size of the cards, led Emmeline to expect a tarot deck, but when Marguerite turned over the top card, it was an ordinary three of hearts.

Take a good look at this card, Emmy. Fix it in your mind. Close your eyes and visualize it.”

Card tricks? Spin the bottle sounded like more fun. Brushing the thought away, Emmeline did as
Marguerite instructed.

Can you picture it?”

Yes. Of course.”

Now open your eyes. I’ve hidden the card somewhere in the deck. I want you to find it.”

Don’t be silly!”

I think you can do it, Emmeline.” Beryl fixed her with that penetrating green-gray stare of hers.
Concentrate. Send your mind out seeking that three of hearts. Listen until you hear it call.”

Please! I don’t have any kind of psychic abilities or anything.” The two women stared at her, focusing on her face. Their scrutiny sent hot blood climbing into her cheeks. “Aside from a couple of strange dreams that seemed to predict the future... Honestly, I can’t.”

I believe you can,” said Marguerite, her voice rich and sweet as whipped cream. “You can if you try.”

Do it for me, Emmy.” Beryl leaned forward. Her blouse gaped at the neckline, revealing the symmetric curves of her bare breasts. Emmeline’s own nipples snapped into aching knots.

But...”

Emmeline.”

She heard authority in Beryl’s voice, power that had been cloaked until now. It simply wasn’t possible to refuse.

Okay, okay...” Em shut her eyes once again and summoned the image of the card.

Some force tugged at her hand. At first she tried to ignore it, but as the pull grew stronger, she gave in. With the three of hearts blazing behind her closed lids, she reached for the deck, gripping it with her thumb and forefinger about a third of the way down. She cut the cards, laying the part of the deck she’d removed face up on the floor. When she opened her eyes, a ten of clubs showed on top.

You see? I told you...”

Marguerite’s voice was almost inaudible “Look at the card on the top of the stack you have left, Emmeline.”

She flipped the card over to reveal the three of hearts.

Fear, excitement and lust washed through her in alternating waves. She pushed the exultation away.

It’s just random luck,” she said, wanting but not daring to believe. That force, that attraction – she’d imagined it. She was suggestible – Tim had always said so – and these two women had formidable wills.

Try again,” Beryl urged.

The two of spades, the Jack of diamonds, the ace of hearts – she found them all, one after the other.

The pull of the card she sought grew stronger each time.

What does it mean?” she asked at last. She sounded small and scared to her own ears.

Let’s try something else first.” Marguerite drew a card from the deck, gazed at it for a moment, then placed it face down in front of her. “Tell me which card I just picked.”

The answer came to her almost before the tawny beauty had asked her question, with no effort at all. “Four of diamonds.”

Now me.” Beryl selected not one but three cards, setting them out in a row. “You know what to do, Emmeline.”

The messages weren’t so clear this time. She felt as though several different people were shouting in her head. Images of cards flashed by, too fast and indistinct for her to decipher. “I don’t know,” she whimpered. “I can’t...”

Beryl seized her by the wrist across the gap. Power jolted through her. The pictures snapped into focus. “Nine of spades, six of clubs, Queen of hearts. Oh my God...”

Marguerite gathered Emmeline into her arms as the girl burst into ragged tears.

Hush now.” The raven-haired woman combed her jewel-encircled fingers through Emmy’s platinum locks. “Don’t be afraid.” Warm lips branded Emmy’s brow. A supple tongue flicked out to gather the tears from Emmeline’s cheeks. Through wine-colored velvet, Marguerite’s ample bosom, simultaneously soft and firm, pillowed her own more modest breasts. A whiff of cinnamon tickled her nose, followed by the musky aroma of female arousal.

Emmeline’s already swollen nipples pulsed like the lighthouse off Bass Rocks. A wave of liquid need swept through her, cresting and breaking between her thighs.

Oh...oh, please...” Marguerite’s fierce kiss swallowed her moan. A snake-like tongue wriggled into Emmy’s mouth, brazen and seductive. Emmeline yielded, swooning with the heat of that kiss, until needle-sharp teeth nipped the plumpness of her lower lip.

Hey! Aah...” Her yelp became a groan of need as the tiny pain kindled new fires in her hungry pussy.

Ssh. Just relax, love.” That was Beryl’s voice, smooth, hypnotic, matching the delicate brush of fingertips along her shoulders and down her arms. “Let us pleasure you the way you deserve.”
Seduced by the redhead’s quiet dominance, Emmeline obeyed. She closed her eyes, letting the rising tide of her own lust drown the last shreds of fear.

In the sweet darkness, every sensation grew more acute. Marguerite deepened the kiss, sucking Emmy’s tongue into her mouth, while Beryl stroked Emmy’s back, belly and thighs. The wandering hands barely touched Emmeline’s body but everywhere they traveled, delicious heat followed.

Sparks danced along Em’s naked skin in the wake of Beryl’s fingers. Naked? When had she removed her clothing? Her eyes fluttered open. Shadows hung in the opulent room, shaped by candles that flickered on the mantel. It was nearly midsummer. How could the night have come so quickly?

Embarrassment, wonder and need warred within her. Arousal coursed through her body in shimmering waves, so intense it was almost pain. She found herself splayed nude upon the carpet, arms flung out and erect nipples pointing at the ceiling. Her knees were bent, her thighs spread wide in lewd invitation. Moisture seeped from her exposed cleft, dampening the silky nap of the rug beneath her.

Beryl knelt in the gap between Em’s legs, equally naked, her porcelain-pale skin gleaming in the dimness. Candlelight struck glints from her coppery crown. Emmeline couldn’t help staring at the matching tangle hiding the woman’s sex. She ached to part that auburn curtain and taste the moist flesh it concealed.

The older woman grinned. Mischief glittered in her emerald eyes. “Time enough for that later, girl. The first climax must be yours. Trust us. We won’t harm you. We just want to teach you who you are.”

Don’t forget to leave me a comment if you want an audio version of this book!


Saturday, April 18, 2020

Embracing My Inner Pornographer - #strokefiction #taboo #elitistsnob



I have to apologize. Through most of my life as Lisabet Sarai (which began in 1999 when I published the first edition of Raw Silk), I’ve been something of an elitist snob. Despite having written a great many extremely filthy sex scenes, I’ve always considered myself as an author of “literary erotica”. If you’d asked me what I meant by that label, I’d have launched into a spirited explanation of how my work focused on “the experience of desire” and the “emotional and spiritual aspects of sexuality”, not just on the physical acts involved. I would also have talked about how much I hate the stereotypes of porn, and how hard I’ve tried to use original premises, perspectives and characters in my erotica. Finally, I’d mention (maybe a bit shyly) the fact that I view style and craft to be at least as important in erotica as sexual heat.

All of this is true. Nevertheless, if you listened closely, you might have detected a bit of defensiveness in my exposition. My work is not porn, reads the subtext. It’s not obscene. It has redeeming artistic value. Sure, Amazon might be ready to throw me into the adult dungeon along with the authors of Gang-bang at the OK Corral and Taking Daddy’s Big Cock Up My Ass, but my stories are differentmore thoughtful, nuanced and complex, less exploitative and nasty. Better... or at least more socially acceptable.

Bull turds.

Nearly twenty years after coming out as an erotic writer, I’m starting to realize that as far as the world is concerned, I’m just as guilty of writing dirty stories as the author of Lezzie Virgins Violated by Extraterrestrial Octopi or Stealing My Sister’s Smelly Panties. The richness of my descriptions, the depth of my characterization, the vividness with which I evoke my settingsnone of this changes the fact that, at the end of the day, I write what most people would call smut. Furthermore, my most dedicated fans read my stuff at least partly for the arousal, not because of its literary merit.

In addition, I’ve come to understand that my fears of being viewed as nothing more than a stroke author have held me back. There have been times, especially when I was aiming at a romance market, when I’ve censored myself, turning down the heat or at least mitigating the rawness in my tales for fear of alienating my readers. My fear and my snobbishness combined to make my work less than genuine.

A few years ago, I started to deliberately write stroke fiction. Now I have a 600-page plus boxed set of five books (Vegas Babes) that are basically wall-to-wall, no-holds-barred, every-combination-and-position sex. While these books do have a plot and what I hope are appealing characters, my main goals are to entertain my readers and to get them hot and horny. I have no deeper message, aside from the general position that sex is tremendous fun and everyone should get as much as they want.

I’m working now on the first book of a new stroke series, The Pornographer’s Apprentice. It’s both easier and harder than writing so-called literary erotica. On the one hand, I don’t have to censor myself (much – I’m so tempted to introduce taboo elements like sister-sister incest into the current book, but I do want to avoid the dungeon if I can). On the other hand, it’s sometimes a struggle to turn off my inner critic and just let my fantasies out onto the page. I really have to stop over-thinking things like narrative structure, balanced POV and the Aristotelian unities, because that just slows me down.

Aside from the volume of the sex and the eager horniness of my characters, these porn books are actually less transgressive than some of my more literary work. There’s some mild BDSM, but none of the edgy power exchange action that shows up in my earlier books. I don’t know whether that will change as I continue to explore this corner of my imagination. Having opened this can of worms, I’ll be interested to see what crawls out.

One thing I’d like to try is writing some futa fiction. I’m also personally turned on by some incest scenarios, despite the official prohibition. There are other forbidden but titillating topics that call out to me.

I don’t know if I’m brave enough to respond to those calls. I’m afraid my existing fans would drop me in disgust. Obviously I could create a new pen name for the taboo stories, but I already find managing one pseudonymous identity takes more time and effort than I have available.

Anyway, I’ll have to see where my Muse leads me. She has a very dirty mind.

Meanwhile I’m forced to acknowledge that the boundary between erotica and porn is sufficiently subjective and fluid that it might not exist at all.


Friday, April 17, 2020

They’d buy her, free her, and persuade her to have werewolf babies - #Paranormal #Werewolves #Spanking #Post-apocalyptic @KryssieFortune


Taken as Theirs cover
 
Blurb

As a breeder - one of the few fertile women left in a ruined, plague-ravaged world - Cassie would fetch a handsome price at auction, and selling her to the highest bidder was exactly what her captors had in mind... until two fearsome beasts decided to take her for themselves.
 
Eli and Dane have chosen Cassie for their mate, and when she makes a foolish attempt at escape she quickly ends up tearfully promising obedience as her bare bottom is soundly and shamefully punished. Her body's response to their stern dominance cannot be denied, however, and it isn't long before she is screaming out her intense, helpless pleasure as she is roughly and thoroughly claimed. But will Eli and Dane's pack accept a human girl or will Cassie be an outsider forever?

Buy links




Amazon Australia https://amzn.to/2RvViwV

Or READ FOR FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED
 
Excerpt
 
A tic started in Dane’s jaw. When he took a deliberate step toward her, Cassie panicked and ran for the door. Grabbing her around the waist, Eli dragged her toward the bed. He perched on the edge and pulled her over his knee. “A bare bottom spanking should remind you not to put yourself at risk.”

She hung, head down, feet kicking as she tried to break free. Eli planted his huge hand in the small of her back and pinned her in place. His touch felt like a warm caress that leached the fight out of her.

When he stroked his free hand over her bottom, her cunny dampened. His voice turned raspy and hoarse, as though he struggled to speak. “When I’m done, Dane will punish you for making him dive into that swell. Those waves could have battered you against the barge or washed you away. Your actions were inexcusable, whatever your motives.”

He shoved the baggy jumper he’d loaned her up around her waist, baring her bottom.

Hissing in a breath, she kicked and struggled, desperate to escape his grip. He tangled his legs through hers and stroked her bare bottom. “Stay still, princess, or I’ll double your punishment.”

Cassie’s head-down, bottom-up position made her feel defenseless and weak. No one, not even her parents, had ever laid a hand on her. Even in human form, werewolves were super strong with enough stamina to keep them going for days. Hell, if he hit her too hard, he could shatter her spine. She’d been an idiot to think these dominant males had a kindly side.

Cassie lifted her head and tried to catch Dane’s eye. For all his stern exterior, he could stop Eli from spanking her—she hoped. “Please don’t do this. I’m sorry. I was stupid, okay? Isn’t it enough that the pair of you scared me half to death yesterday when you busted me out that castle? Now you’re going to beat me for trying to get away from killer werewolves. I’m begging you. Let me up, please.”

Dane surprised her by crouching beside her and smoothing her curls back from her face. He gathered her wrists in one hand and stared into her eyes. “We’re sorry we scared you when we sprang you from the vampires. Not that you gave us much choice. I’m going to stay beside you while Eli spanks you. Keep your eyes on me.”

She’d thought Dane was the stern one who’d do anything to get what he wanted. The way he reassured her helped, but she still wriggled and kicked to get free.

About the Author

Kryssie lives by the beach and loses track of time when she writes. Her days are full of dashing regency rakes, former soldiers so handsome they make her drool, and the sexiest werewolves ever. The odd vampire makes it in there too, but when he does, he’s drop dead gorgeous.

Her pet hates are unhappy endings and cliff hangers. She guarantees you won’t find either in her books. Her books sizzle with sensual heat, but story always comes before sex. Even when part of a series, her books can be read as stand-alone romance.

Kryssie Fortune Social Media








Amazon Author Page http://amzn.to/2hA0ZVO

Thursday, April 16, 2020

Hilarious romantic comedy – for peanuts! Fluffy by @jkentauthor - #sale #99c #romcom #romance #comedy

Fluffy teaser banner


99¢ SALE – add audio with Whispersync and/or Audible Escape

Description

It all started with the wrong Help Wanted ad. Of course it did.

I’m a professional fluffer. It’s NOT what you think. I stage homes for a living. Real estate agents love me, and my work stands on its own merits.

Sigh. Get your mind out of the gutter. Go ahead. Laugh. I’ll wait.

See? That’s the problem. My career has used the term “fluffer” for decades. I didn’t even know there was a more… lascivious definition of the term.

Until it was too late.

The ad for a “professional fluffer” on Craigslist seemed like divine intervention. My last unemployment check was in the bank. I was desperate. Rent was due. The ad said cash paid at the end of the day.

The perfect job!

Staging homes means showing your best angle. The same principle applies in making a certain kind of movie. Turns out a “fluffer” doesn’t arrange decorative pillows on a couch.

They arrange other soft, round-ish objects.

The job isn’t hard. Er, I mean, it is — it’s about being hard. Or, well… helping other people to be hard.

Oh, man…

And that’s the other problem. A man. No, not one of the stars on the movie set. Will Lotham – my high school crush. The owner of the house where we’re filming. Illegally. In a vacation rental.

By the time the cops show up, what I thought was just a great house staging gig turned into a nightmare involving pictures of me with an undressed naked star, Will rescuing me from an arrest, and a humiliating lesson in my own naivete.

My job turned out to be so much harder than I expected. But you know what’s easier than I ever imagined?

Having all my dreams come true.

Excerpt

Do you use the proper terms for everything, Mallory?” He makes an inarticulate sound as I peel the gauze off the cut, wiping gently. “You call your pretty place a vulva, right? And you use the word vagina.”

'Pretty place'?”

He shrugs.

And yes, I do. Vulva and vagina. And then there’s the clitoris,” I say primly.

What’s that?”

What’s what?”

A clitoris. Never heard of it.”

I freeze and look down at him. Bright eyes meet mine. Is he serious?

The clitoris is a nerve cluster above the opening to the vagina,” I begin, taking a breath to continue my impromptu human sexuality lecture, because when a man tells you they don’t know what a clitoris is, you educate them immediately.

For the sisterhood. All the women Will is going to sleep with from here on out will thank me later.

He starts to laugh. I’m so tempted to pour the small bottle of isopropyl alcohol directly on his wound, but I’m a kind, compassionate woman, so instead I dab it on with a swab.

OW!” he bellows.

Sorry.”

You’re not sorry at all.”

I’m sorry for your sex partners that you have no idea what a clitoris is, Will.”

I know what it is. And my tongue knows how to find one. Blindfolded.”

Why would you blindfold your tongue?”



Buy Links








Google Play: http://bit.ly/2COKLmQ


Amazon Audio: https://amzn.to/2Vm0cdF


Print: mybook.to/fluffy



About the Author

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down

Social Media Links











Sale blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.