Category Archives: book release

Girls Will Be Girls by Lucy Felthouse, Because Yes–Girls Will Be Girls!!!

I just recently promoted a new book by Lucy Felthouse on my blog, and before I could blink, this prolific lady had a new series of stories out! Girls Will Be Girls is her sexy new girl/girl anthology. And judging by the cover, Lucy has another hot one on her hands!

As inspired as I am by Lucy professionally–how could you not be?!–all I keep thinking about is how lucky I was to get to see her while she was in New York. She is exceptionally lovely, and we had a lovely conversation over my lox and cream cheese bagel with onions. She had pancakes, and I have been craving them ever since! Because of her, I finally saw Bridget Jones for the first time…yes, yes I know I am way behind the curve–she told me as only a true friend would! I am happy to consider Lucy a friend…

Now you are salivating for more details on her sexy new book, aren’t you? Here you go!

Blurb:

Six sexy Sapphic tales from the pen of popular lesbian erotica author, Lucy Felthouse.

Christmas cheer with colleagues, a driving disaster turned good, hot older women, girls in uniform, gorgeous gardeners and naughty fun in a changing cubicle… this collection contains a variety of erotic tales sure to tickle your fancy.

Available to buy exclusively from Amazon, and to read as part of the Kindle Unlimited programme.

Add to your Goodreads shelves:

*****

Excerpt:

She was now mere inches away, but the thickness of the bushes meant she could still only see the boots and now a bit more of the green trousers. Stepping onto the mud, she crouched down beside the feet, carefully pushing the foliage aside so she could see what the hell was going on, and figure out what she was going to do about it.

The view opened up, and Verity, far from seeing a helpless person lying on the soil, was presented with a green-clad arse reversing hurriedly in her direction!

“Hey!” she said, letting go of the branches and shifting back so abruptly she ended up on her own arse on the grass. “Be careful! Are you all right?”

As the body continued emerging, Verity slowly came to realise her mistake. Dirt-covered trousers, a filthy black waterproof coat, gloved hands, and a head topped with a floppy hat were soon visible. Slim white cables trailing from each ear and disappearing into the collar of the coat explained why she hadn’t been heard calling out, or received a response.

This woman hadn’t hurt herself. She was a fucking gardener!

Frozen in her uncomfortable position, Verity wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. Perhaps as revenge for her landing on it so hard. But she had no such luck. Instead, she heard, “What on earth are you doing down there? Are you all right?”

Struck dumb, Verity nodded and took the now glove-free hand that was offered to her, allowing the other woman to pull her up off the grass. “I—I’m fine,” she finally forced out, breaking the brief eye contact and making a show of brushing herself down, though it was probably only her bottom that was dirty. Her cheeks blazed, and she took a step back, hoping to beat a hasty retreat.

“Well, I’m glad. But it still doesn’t explain what you were doing down there.” The ear buds now hung down the woman’s front, and she was apparently poised, awaiting a reply.

Verity shook her head. “I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”

Narrowing her eyes, the gardener said, “Try me.”

Christ. Just to add insult to injury, it seemed she was now suspected of some kind of wrongdoing, too! “I—I was over there,” she pointed to where she’d come from, “and I saw your wellies poking out from the bushes. I panicked because I thought someone had fallen and hurt themselves. I came over to try and help. I did call out to you, to see if you were all right. But all I could see was the boots and a little bit of your trousers. I had no idea what was going on. Much less that you were the bloody gardener and remained oblivious to what I was up to because you had headphones in! I crouched down and pushed the bushes aside so I could see you better, and the next thing I know you’re shuffling back towards me. I shifted out of the way and ended up tumbling over on my bum.”

It seemed her story was too amusing to be anything but true, because the gardener grinned widely, then clapped a hand over her mouth momentarily. “I’m so sorry,” she then said, “I didn’t hear you, honestly. But I guess I can see why you thought that. Thank you so much for coming to check on me, but it really wasn’t necessary. All I was doing was fighting with a particularly vicious weed.” She pointed down to an uprooted plant at her feet, then widened her eyes. “Are you all right? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

Twisting to try and look at her bottom, Verity brushed again at the seat of her jeans. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you. Just a bit of muck and grass stains, I think. Nothing that won’t come out in the washing machine.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad. I feel bad enough as it is without thinking you’ve hurt yourself or ruined your clothes, too.”

“No, I’m good. And I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

Silence hung between them for a few moments. Then Verity took another step back. “Right, well, I’d better get going, anyway. Nice to meet you.” She turned to go, but the other woman’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Hey, wait. No need to rush off. I’m just about to go on my tea break. Want to join me? Perhaps a brew will make up for it?” Her green eyes—apt, for a gardener, Verity thought—sparkled with humour and intelligence, and for the first time, Verity realised that, underneath the grubby gardening gear and large hat was a very attractive woman.

Still, an excuse was on the tip of her tongue—she had come here to be alone, after all—but fate intervened. Or the British weather did, anyway. A handful of fat raindrops fell onto her, followed by a few more. Then, the heavens truly opened.

*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Let's Ride With Guest Blogger Rebecca Black and Her New Book Release!!!

I remember reading this story Rebecca wrote for Masturbation Monday, and thinking I would love more of those characters. Well here they are! For the second day in a row, I have a brilliant author as a guest with a brand-new book! Welcome back Rebecca!

Hello!
Thanks for having me today so I can give my new book Let’s Ride a shout out.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I really love a good, quick read. Busy lives often don’t leave as much time as we’d like for reading, do they? I’m not always so bothered about the backstory, I just want to live vicariously for a moment through the characters as they experience that first rush of lust and desire in a new relationship – I want to get a little hot and tingly 😉
Well Evernight’s Romance on the Go range is all about fulfilling this reading need and my new release Let’s Ride is a part of that.

Let’s Ride started life as an erotic short that I wrote for Masturbation Monday (a meme that I write for most weeks). I saw a black and white photograph of this gorgeous, androgynous woman sitting on a kick ass motorbike in just a pair of knickers and this piece of flash fiction just fired out of me. Talk about inspiration!

She looked like she wouldn’t take any crap and she looked very capable of sweeping someone off their feet. It got a lot of great feedback so I decided to extend it and lucky for me, Evernight liked it too.

I’ve read some great books with well written dominant male characters, both straight and gay, but I really wanted to write a recognisable archetype with a twist. There isn’t one good reason on this earth why the hero has to be male. Let’s Ride completely rejects that assumption. Jo is confident, self-assured and has a dominant streak a mile wide, but she’s also a beautiful woman, inside and out. She rides into town and sweeps Mary-Beth right off her feet and into her bed. I love her (I know I’m not supposed to say that because I wrote her, but I really do!) and I hope you do too.

So here’s the blurb:

“I would do just about anything to be on the back of that bike when she leaves this place.”
Trapped in a small town life, Mary-Beth always knew there was something better out there. Then Jo rides into town and walks straight into the diner where she works. Sexy, dominant and self-assured, Jo is everything Mary-Beth wishes she could be. Their hot, intense meeting crashes through Mary-Beth’s small world and offers her the promise of a new start.
Will Mary-Beth leave everything behind and ride with Jo towards the chance of a new life?

Excerpt:
Standing by the window, I’m trying to take a lunch time customer’s order but my attention is caught by a bike riding into the gas pump out front.
I hold my breath. She is pretty much everything that I wish I could be. Tall and lean. Enough fuck you attitude to tame a horde of marauding Vikings. She straddles that bike like she was born to it, like she never rode a trike. Like she just stepped right onto all that horsepower and with a flick of her wrists rode off into the sunset, giving everyone the finger as she went.
I would do just about anything to be on the back of that bike when she leaves this place.
She kicks the stand and moves the bike smoothly into its stationary position, slinging her long leg over the back wheel.
I jump a little when our eyes meet through the window. I’m supposed to be taking this guy’s order but I got distracted, seriously distracted. She smirks when her eyes roam over the redness in my cheeks.
Heat has suffused my body; a fine sweat has broken out on my skin and I know I’m in trouble. So much trouble.
I manage to scramble my brain sufficiently to take his order and drop it off at the kitchen. Moving around the bar, I grab the coffee pot to do refills. I can’t stop looking at the door.
Will she come in? Or has she just come for gas?
Please let her come in.
I want to see her up close—I want to see her eyes—that flawless skin. I want to run my fingers over the black shaved hair on the sides of her head, run them through the longer top that she has greased back. I want to watch her eyes close with the pleasure of it.
I hold my nerve when I hear the bell ring over the door. I’m pouring coffee—it really wouldn’t do to spill it and burn a customer. I’m bent over slightly to reach the cup, and my skirt brushes against the back of my legs when she walks past me.
I smile distractedly as the customer thanks me, turning my head to see she has taken a seat at the bar.
Walking over on shaky legs, I smooth my damp palms down the front of my uniform apron.
She sits tall, resting her elbows on the counter. Her legs are open, one heel of her heavy black boots hooked higher on the stool than the other. Her jeans are tight, riding low on slim hips, well worn with a small rip over one knee. A tight white t-shirt stops a few inches from the waistband of her jeans, showing smooth lightly tanned skin that I desperately want to touch.
Her knowing gaze follows me as I move around the bar to face her. I can almost feel a pressure on my skin where it touches me.
“What can I get for you?”
“What have you got?” she asks in a low, husky voice. Her eyes lock on mine. Her eyebrows are like a raven’s wings, perfectly shaped, drawing my attention across her arresting face.
“Pretty much anything, as long as it’s deep fried and unhealthy,” I say wryly.
She laughs. The sound is low and rough and strokes over my nipples.
“Always tastes good, though, don’t it?” she replies. That smirk plays across her mouth again as her gaze drops to my lips. “I’ll just take a coffee for now. Think I’ll get something sweet in a little while…”

Thanks for reading!

Purchase Let’s Ride:
Evernight | Amazon | All Romance | Bookstrand

About Rebecca Black:

Rebecca Black is a Yorkshire girl born and bred. She is first and foremost a voracious reader and lately an author of erotica and erotic romance. She believes that the hottest sex scenes are the ones where emotions are involved (plus lots of dirty talk, lots of spanking, licking and sucking and well… you get the idea). She is the author of A Taste For Three (m/m/f) from Evernight and has several short stories due to be released in erotic anthologies. Rebecca is a regular contributor to the fantastic Cliterati magazine.

Find Rebecca here:
Twitter | Facebook | Facebook Author Page | Tumblr | Goodreads</a

Guest Blogger Xan West Shows Themself to Us With Their New Book Release!!!

I discovered Xan West as an e[lust] judge. Their informative, layered and sexy writing always got to the core of me. It is with a great deal of pleasure that I am the current stop for the blog tour of their new release Show Yourself to Me. Without further ado, I will let Xan show themself to you…

I wrote rough body play before I did it. I’m not talking about erotica stories. I wrote rough body play for the first time during cybersex. Cybersex was one of the first ways I started writing explicit sex, and I wouldn’t be the writer I am today without starting (and getting a hell of a lot of practice) from a place that was about getting us both off over the distance in the glow of a computer screen.

I’d gotten very excited about cybersex from reading Kate Bornstein’s and Caitlin Sullivan’s novel Nearly Roadkill (which I highly recommend, by the way, though it may be hard to get your hands on it). Right at the tail end of the chat years (when people still went onto websites to meet up in chatrooms), around 2001, I exuberantly entered the queer chatting universe, hoping to have an arena for the kind of gender play and D/s I was aching to explore.

It turns out some things are easier to translate to textual interaction than others. Folks in meatspace BDSM communities are quick to scoff about online BDSM, and they have a point about a good portion of what goes on. But there are some things that live textual interaction can create more space and ease for, especially at first. Gender play is one. And there are some kinks that you can do online and get to really beautiful hot places. Psychological play and role play being really good examples.

It’s risky to go to some places with a stranger, even over the internet. I definitely learned that in those explorations. And, there are some places you can try to go in your mind, over text, but if your body doesn’t know them…it just doesn’t even come close.

So, I was doing a dream of a pirate captain/cabin boy scene, bottoming to this hot butch in a private chatroom. It felt so visceral, so real, such a gorgeous intense exchange, that when she started the rough body play, I went with it. Even though really I had no idea what it would feel like to get punched in the chest, or kicked in the thighs. I didn’t know what boots driving me into the rough wood of the deck of a pirate ship might be like, what would happen in my body when she placed her boot on my neck and looked down at me. I just tried to imagine it: visceral, intense, jarring, hot. I guessed that it would probably make me feel so alive and aching, so full of sensation and feeling. She thought I could take it, wanted me to take it for her, and there was nothing like the confidence of a Dominant to capture my stubbornness and my sense of my own strength. I wanted to take it for her, and in this online arena, nothing could stop me from doing so.

As it turns out, my last scene as a bottom was with that very same butch. She turned out to be so damn handsome and tough and I didn’t even think to say to her that I wasn’t sure I could bottom that hard, that I didn’t know if my body could do in life what it could do in my imagination, in a chatroom at midnight. I was a novice in so many ways, and one of the things I didn’t know was what my physical limits were, how much I could take. I’d had chronic pain conditions for years and had survived a hell of a lot of bad pain. I thought if I could do that, good pain was no problem.

I wanted to take a lot of pain. Not for her, but for me. I’d emerged from an abusive D/s relationship just a few months before, and I wanted to show myself that I was tough, a survivor. And I did. For years, I could think back to that scene, to how it felt to recognize my own toughness in what was a combination of strength, endurance, and stubborn will. I could think back, and draw from witnessing my own courage, in choosing to bottom again, in choosing to bottom in this way, in choosing to take way more pain than I ever had in play before.

Against a wall, in a public dungeon, I felt the things I’d only imagined feeling when I was cybering with her imagining myself on the deck of a pirate ship in front of the whole crew. It did make me feel so damn alive, so deeply in my body, like I thought it would. I stuck my chin out and took it, and reveled in the intensity of the sensation, what it felt like to take punches and kicks, how deeply queer and gorgeous this kind of play was. How it was so close to what I’d dreamed it would be.

I was riding this amazing wave of adrenaline. All the while I was marveling at how play like this, that looked so much like violence, could feel like care and respect and joy, while something that looked like sex and sweetness could feel so much like terrifying soul-killing violence.

My skin blossomed so fucking fast. I think that’s why she called the scene, because I was so damn black and blue, so damn early. Or maybe she guessed that I was too high from the play and too fucking stubborn that I wouldn’t have done it myself. I’m not sure. I just know that she wrapped up, and that she was still so full of adrenaline, she was almost shaking.

Calling a scene is not easy on anyone. I respect her for doing it, and thinking on it now, I have so much compassion for both of us. I was not able to support her as a bottom in the ways she needed. I didn’t know how or even know it was my job to do that, had shitty models for BDSM and little education outside of books. I had orchestrated my own transformative scene, but I hadn’t given her the information she needed to be a partner with me in that. (And she hadn’t asked me much of anything, had done quick and dirty negotiation more appropriate to an experienced heavy player than a novice like me.)

I stopped bottoming after that scene. It changed me, felt like it had washed me clean, given me a touchstone memory of bottoming that was wholly different from the abuse I’d endured. So that I didn’t feel like bottoming had been stolen from me by my abusive ex. I had taken it back for myself. Stopping after that scene was a way to stop from a place of strength.

I don’t recommend this path for transformative play, or rough body play. I became a kink educator to help people find other options. I have written story after story about rough body play, transformative play, and edge play in order to offer multiple models of doing this differently from how I did it that night. Models that are more careful and mutual and caring and risk aware. Because I know that so many people, especially trauma survivors, go to sex and relationships and BDSM seeking transformation and intensity and healing. Because I want people to dream bigger than I did. To dream up ways to meet their desires that can include more trust and honesty and care for each other. To dream of ways to play where they can bring all of who they are and be recognized in the fullness of themselves.

Show Yourself To Me is a collection where tops get to be vulnerable and bottoms get to support them. Where sadists get celebrated and honored. Where submissives are recognized as strong and powerful. Where folks work hard to create arenas for pushing edges that feel like safe-enough containers. Where tops and bottoms support each other in seeking transformation through BDSM. Where queers create play that is deeply mutual, clearly negotiated, intensely intimate, and full of courageous honesty. Where you get to see the gorgeous possibilities of rough body play, from the inside.

(If you want a taste of how I write rough body play, here is an excerpt from the bottom’s point of view, and here is an excerpt from the top’s point of view.)

Book Description:

In Show Yourself to Me: Queer Kink Erotica, Xan West introduces us to pretty boys and nervous boys, vulnerable tops and dominant sadists, good girls and fierce girls and scared little girls, mean Daddies and loving Daddies and Daddies that are terrifying in delicious ways.

Submissive queers go to alleys to suck cock, get bent over the bathroom sink by a handsome stranger, choose to face their fears, have their Daddy orchestrate a gang bang in the park, and get their dream gender-play scene—tied to a sling in an accessible dungeon.

Dominants find hope and take risks, fall hard and push edges, get fucked and devour the fear and tears that their sadist hearts desire.

Within these 24 stories, you will meet queers who build community together, who are careful about how they play with power, who care deeply about consent. You will meet trans and genderqueer folks who are hot for each other, who mentor each other, who do the kind of gender play that is only possible with other trans and genderqueer folks.

This is Show Yourself to Me. Get ready for a very wild ride.

You can get your copy of Show Yourself to Me via Go Deeper Press, Amazon or Nook. And you can engage with the book on Goodreads as well!

Do not miss the other stops on the blog tour:

October 1: Xan West
October 2: Book Birthday!
October 3: Heather Elizabeth
October 4: Sinclair Sexsmith
October 5: Hermia Swann
October 6: Dilo Keith and Cecilia Tan
October 7: Kinky Brits
October 8: Stella Harris
October 9: F. Leonora Solomon
October 10: Tasha Harrison
October 11: Benji Bright
October 12: Tamsin Flowers and Karida
October 13: Cassandra Perry
October 14: Peep Scoop and Radical Access Mapping Project
October 15: Sugar Cunt
October 16: Emily Byrne
October 17: Oleander Plume
October 18: K. A. Smith
October 19: Giselle Renarde
October 20: Butchtastic Kyle
October 21: Lisabet Sarai
October 22: Syrens
October 23: Anna Sky
October 24: Jade A. Waters
October 25: Kal Cobalt
October 26: Rebekah Weatherspoon
October 27: Malin James
October 28: BD Swain and Jillian Boyd
October 29: Kaleigh Trace
October 30: Kiki DeLovely
October 31: Xan West and Annabeth Leong

Hold Tight! Special Guest Blogger and Dear Friend, Lise Horton Takes The Reins!

It makes me happy to have Lise Horton as my guest, because she is a brilliant writer and my friend. We go way back! Her newest release, Hold Tight with Loose Id is hotter than lava and that is barely a metaphor. She is a voracious reader, I love to her talk literary to me! Read on to discover books that have inspired her, in honor of Banned Books Week…

…I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish Wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.
–James Joyce, Ulysses

Thinking as I do annually about Banned Books Week, I thought back to my (ahem) formative years, literarily speaking, and had an epiphany about what I love to read, and especially what I love to write.

From Ulysses to Fifty Shades, books have most often been banned not because of the violence they depict. Not for political reasons. Not because they foment bigotry or hatred. But because they depict S-E-X. Obscenity, or as the famous judge quipped, “I know it when I see it” – which to me is purely subjective personal judgement. Sex in literature is treated as something nasty, something to be hidden away, lest it corrupt us; when, in fact, depictions of adult human sexuality are based on, guess what: the real thing! That sort of important (and fun) activity we all participate in. Birds do it, bees do it and hello! Guys and gals do it, too! With great regularity. And amazing ingenuity.

As an author of kinky erotica and erotic romance I have come to discover that it was reading all manner of banned, salacious and graphic books, along with many others in my youth, that has led me to the balanced place I am today as a writer.

Some naughty tales I first partook of were historical epics by an author lost in the mists of my brain, but I later happened upon works by Anais Nin, Erica Jong, Henry Miller and Marilyn French’s The Women’s Room, in all their carnal glory. I devoured feminist tracts by Kate Millet and Simone de Beauvoir, along with earnest books like Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex and Our Bodies, Ourselves.

And into this cerebral cauldron went early romances, from Mary Stewart’s romantic suspense novels to the gothics of Victoria Holt. Books that hinted at attraction and love, but kept the bedroom door closed as tightly as could be. At a pivotal moment I read Love Story and there was no turning back!

What emerged from my odd amalgam of reading material was the magical spirit of frankness, romance and sexual curiosity that gave rise to my writing today. Writing where anything goes (as long as it is legal!) I am a feminist who believes that depicting a submissive woman in a BDSM relationship does not, in fact, go against my beliefs. A character choosing her path, sexually or otherwise, in pursuit of happiness and satisfaction, is a feminist in my mind. And adding romance to the mix is not dumbing down the human sexual experience, but rather projecting what so many of us yearn for – a trustworthy companion to share our life who happens to be as hungry for our body, as for our mind, or our heart, and soul. Rounding out the mix is the earthy carnality and unfettered lust that is part and parcel of the human condition. When not burdened with others’ mores as to what is “right” or “acceptable” men and women explore their sexual selves with great freedom. Happier and more accepting of others because of their understanding of themselves.

A wonderful mantra in the BDSM community is “My kink may not be your kink, but your kink is okay.” And “safe, sane and consensual” is a wonderful credo for everyone (vanilla or not so much) that urges us to look at the world around us and demand that adults get to go for their sexy gusto without censure or condemnation*. And that goes for what we want to read, as well!

It makes me smile to remember my favorite expression growing up – one which embarrassed my mother beyond belief.

“Whatever blows your skirt up!”

And would you look at that! I’ve grown into an author who writes exactly what blows my own way, way up – and hopefully, yours too. With that in mind, I’d like to urge everyone to turn themselves on.

In honor of Banned Books Week, read a dirty book today!

She felt every stroke, every sensation, as he possessed her completely. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady so he could force his way in as deep as possible. The stretching of tissues, the friction, the pain, the possession, his words, his grunts and growls barreled up and up, and everything began to tighten and coil deep inside, like a spring, poised to fly, to send her into an orgasm so monstrous she might not survive.
–Lise Horton, Hold Tight

* I advocate sexual freedom only among consenting adults. I do not condone fetishes that fall into the realm of abuse, pedophilia, bestiality, etc.

I know you enjoyed Lise’s passage from Hold Tight, click on your preferred format below to get your copy!

Amazon Kindle
Apple iBooks
B&N Nook Books
Kobo
All Romance E-Books

Never Too Late for a Take This Man Excerpt by Oleander Plume!!!

When my dear friend and Chemical [se]X (which you can currently get for free!!!) editor Oleander Plume told me she was in another anthology, I jumped at the chance to host her (again!) on my blog! Take This Man is the brainchild of Neil Plakcy. Neil tells us a bit about his process below:

When I put out the call for Take This Man, I wasn’t sure what I’d get from authors. So much of gay erotica is based on the thrill of meeting someone new—making that first connection, the attraction of opposites and so on. Would my idea about sex between committed couples work?

I was delighted when the first stories began arriving in my email box and I realized I shouldn’t have worried – talented writers can take any idea and make it sing!

Not every story was great, of course. Some authors’ idea of “commitment” seemed to be having sex with the same person more than once. Others didn’t seem to grasp the idea that erotica requires the characters to engage in sexual intercourse at least once during the story. Others got bogged down in details of “how we met, how we fell in love, how we moved in together” and so on.

But the ones that made the cut? Pure gold!

Enter the golden Ms. Plume, who describes a little about her inspiration:

The submission call caught my imagination and wouldn’t let go. Here is the kind of story Neil Plakcy was looking for:

A rarity — romantic erotica focused on male couples in committed relationships — Take This Man comes from one of the top-flight gay fiction writers, Neil Plakcy. Many erotic stories focus on the thrill of first contact, but Take This Man is thrillingly different, taking a close look at how much sexier an encounter can be when the two men involved have been together for long enough to make a commitment to each other. Formalized or not, the fact remains that knowing what turns your partner on — and vice versa — makes encounters even hotter, especially when the erotic encounter is an expression of an emotional bond.

After I read the prompt, an idea formed almost immediately. (That does not happen often!) I typed out a rough draft from start to finish, and the story never really changed. (Another rarity.)

Once I had the story fleshed out, I added a few details about the characters, Braiden and Tony. I developed a fondness for them, maybe because they are my age. Writing a contemporary romance story was a creative stretch for me, but I loved it and will definitely delve into that genre again. I also enjoyed writing about lovers who have a history with each other, I think the story is richer because of that relationship.

Wanna sample? Here you go, an excerpt from “Never Too Late.”

He grabbed me and kissed my lips as he pushed me back on the bed. I dug my heels into his back and ground my cock against his. The heat between us roared back to life, igniting us both until I thought we might burn alive.

“Fuck me, right now. No foreplay, just get up in me.”

“I need a shower.”

“Tony, please, I need it so bad. There’s lube in my suitcase.” I felt like I would die if I didn’t get his cock inside. My clothes flew in all directions, but Tony just unzipped and pulled out his dick, it was harder than I had seen it in years.

“Braiden, my balls feel like they’re going to explode.”

His hands were shaking when he greased up his dick. I pulled my legs back. Tony licked his lips while he stared between my legs.

“It’s still so pretty, fuck, I’m so hard.”

“Tony, hurry.”

“Yeah, yeah, here it comes, baby, I can’t wait either.”

I groaned as he pushed in, it had been awhile, but I loosened up quickly. This was what I had been craving, the feel of his hardness mingled with my softness. To be one with him, joined in mutual satisfaction. His cock spread me open wide when he drove in deep. Tony growled.

“That’s it, the sound I’ve been wanting to hear. That sex growl you always make.”

He did it again, I got goosebumps all over when it rumbled from his throat.

“Sweet angel, you’re so tight.”

“Keep talking.” I wanted him in every way, to hear his voice, to feel body, to smell his male musk, to taste his lips, to see the lust in his eyes, all for me.

“Tell me more.”

You better take this book!

Go Deeper with TIE ME UP & Lana Fox!!!

I am sooooo excited to have Tie Me Up, be today’s Go Deeper Press Deeper Daily! I feel really lucky because a lot of the people that I love are brilliant writers and/or editors. Lana Fox is no exception, aside from running Go Deeper Press, she is a truly gifted writer. So when you go to their site to see the Tie Me Up Deeper Daily by the lovely Tabitha Kitten (which has also been excerpted on Janine Ashbless’s blog)…let your eyes meander to this new goodness from Lana, Criminally Gorgeous:

Bethany can’t help it. Risk turns her on. But when, thanks to a crazy dare, she sneaks into a stranger’s apartment, the last thing she expects is to be sprung by a gorgeous intruder and seduced into a super-hot scene.

It turns out this gatecrasher is Leo, an ex-lawyer billionaire who housebreaks for kicks and is also a sexual dominant. He’s the hottest man Bethany’s ever met. When he suggests she be his paid partner, breaking in with him for sex and thrills, Bethany couldn’t be more tempted.

However, her father Jim is a lifelong criminal, and he’s currently on the run, in danger of doing time. Bethany’s vowed to never follow in his footsteps. How far down this criminal road can she travel with Leo? And with a partner and Dom this gorgeous, perhaps there’s even more at stake.

Is Bethany Croft prepared to fall in love?

You can download Criminally Gorgeous on All Romance, Amazon, Nook and Smash Words!

Happy Reading!

Lana Fox Is the Cream of the Crop!

Yesterday was my one-year blog anniversary, and I honestly cannot imagine a better way to kick off my blog’s second year than with the cream of the crop! I feel like I have already gushed about Lana before on my blog…you see I was a fan of hers before I knew her at all. I wrote this blog post about her story “The Silver Belt.” Her writing is extraordinary, in the vein of our muse Anaïs Nin. With Cream, she masters the craft–again. Her writing really is like the best cream filling. Read her interview and excerpt below, and tell me you are not licking your fingers after!

1. You’re such a romantic! Tell us more about your romantic side and your love of Anais Nin.

Well, I grew up in England with parents who were living very traditional, religious lives. I was different to them — very different. What’s more, I was bullied at school, and generally treated as weird and strange. But I truly found myself in the books my parents so readily bought me. In these stories, from fairy tale to fantasy to comedy to Shakespeare, I discovered my love of words. (Dear God, I love words!) There’s a line in Carol Ann Duffy’s poem “Little Red Cap” that explains how I still feel about words and stories. In this lovely, twisted retelling of the fairy tale, Little Red Cap (aka Little Red Riding Hood) goes willingly home with the wolf after they’ve met at the theatre, no less, and stays the night:

“As soon as he slept, I crept to the back
of the lair, where a whole wall was crimson, gold, aglow with books.
Words, words were truly alive on the tongue, in the head,
warm, beating, frantic, winged; music and blood.”

I lived through books, breathed through books, and even when I was sent away to Christian Science Boarding school, it was stories that kept me sane, kept me brave.

Then, years later, when I was sexually ashamed, dissociated, and recovering from sexual trauma, I found Anais Nin’s “Delta of Venus” on a bookstore shelf. I picked it up, opened it, and felt an instant connection. Here were books, written *most* romantically and poetically, about the very sexual fantasies I’d locked away inside myself lest anyone see the truth about me — the truth that I was fiercely, intensely erotic, in spite of my attempts to be the “pure” girl my parents wanted.

That’s how Anais Nin saved me. And she has done, ever since. (In fact, she brought us together, dear friend!) Her words, like the wolf’s, are crimson, gold, aglow, truly alive on the tongue — and for me, they always will be.

So now I live in a world of books. In fact, I just published Cream: An Erotic Romance, which was so exciting and rapturous to write! And by the way, at Go Deeper Press we currently have a contest running for indie writers. So if you want to win a book cover design and e-book formatting package, do take a look!

2. Cream: An Erotic Romance is your new erotic romance novel! Now, isn’t it both dessert- and music-themed?

Yes! Thank you for asking! I’ve been a fan of smoky jazz numbers for a long time, largely thanks to amazing performers like Diana Krall, Ella Fitzgerald, Natalie Cole, Miles Davis, and others. So it was a joy to write about a jazz singer called Caroline who brings music and sex — and creamy deliciousness — back into the life of her new romantic partner, Marcus. Here’s a little blurb of the novel:

Sultry jazz singer Caroline Spence has a penchant for smokier numbers—and, as it turns out, men of a similar temperament. So when the darkly dominant Marcus takes her on as his submissive, she surprises him by sharing his love of double cream, both in a bowl and on her body, as well as a passion for kink that could lose him his job.

Still, it turns out Marcus isn’t the only one who wants Caroline. The young, rich, and audacious Kyle could listen to her sing forever. Caroline soon finds out, however, that Kyle’s obsession has a dangerous side. But with his charm and smoldering good looks, she finds it easy to let him push her a little too far.

Two men. One siren.

And a challenge that changes her life.

You can also listen to the Cream playlist here, thanks to Angela! (Some of my faves include Diana Krall’s version of Frim Fram Sauce and “The Lady is a Tramp” by Frank Sinatra. I hope you enjoy!

3. What are your feelings about Valentine’s Day?

You know, I’m a big fan of romance–and that includes solo romance. I’ll share a little story: After my first marriage was over, and before I met my lovely wife Angela (we co-run Go Deeper Press together), I lived with a group of wonderful friends, but I wasn’t dating on Valentine’s Day. All the same, I still took myself out to celebrate! I bought myself flowers and a box of chocolates (all for myself!), not to mention a brand new sex toy from Good Vibrations. On the day itself, I went to Trident Book Store on Newbury Street in Boston and had dinner out with a brand new book. And you know what? I discovered that Valentine’s Day can be just as romantic when you are single.

Oh! And another thing, while we’re on the topic of romance! When I studied literature at university I was taught that people originally gave one another roses because the rose was thought to represent the anatomical beauty of the female genitals. All those lush petals and the way they surround the core so sensually. Isn’t that lovely? So if anyone out there is still learning to love their genitals, buy yourself some roses this Valentine’s Day and tell yourself they reflect you, perfectly. Just an idea!

4. I know you love yoga! How does this tie in with your life as a writer?

Yoga helps me to do the opposite of escape — it helps me to become myself in the moment. I have one of those minds that wants to be continually creating, but unless I feel the calmness of the present moment, I’m always mentally rushing around. And of course, when my mind is still during both yoga and meditation I am lighting the pure flame that drives all that creativity and romance. I have to remember that yoga and meditation help everything to flow — sometimes that is hard to remember when I’m trying to meet deadlines, but avoiding yoga and meditation is rarely to my benefit!

Angela and I like to do yoga together and because we run Go Deeper Press from home, we can actually have yoga sessions at the start of the day, or during an agreed-on break. We then bring all that calm and strength back into the office and we write or promote or blog or connect. It’s quite lovely!

Thanks so much for having me! And folks can buy Cream: An Erotic Romance on Amazon in both print and e-book — I’d love to hear what you all think of it, so please feel free to follow me and tag me on Twitter at @foxlana.

And now, let’s open this creamy confection! Here is a delectable excerpt from Cream!

In this excerpt from Cream: An Erotic Romance by Lana Fox, the dominant Marcus, who has just spent the evening having kinky sex with Caroline, has poured her a bath. He has also brought up a glass of white wine for her, along with a terracotta jug of cold double cream.

“Now,” he said. “Are you ready for cream?”
“Cream, Sir?”
“Double cream,” he said. “Get ready for some coolness on your back.”
Then he held the jug over me and poured. It was the most incredible sensation. Thick cream—the kind you whip into clouds—fell down my back, unctuous and cool. I moaned just to feel it, and I heard him moan, too. Then I felt his hands on my back, rubbing the cream into me, massaging my skin. I relaxed into it, aroused by the sensations, and asked, “What are you doing?” before quickly adding, “Sir?”
“Cream is a perfect reward,” he said, “and you’ve earned it, Miss Spence.” There was a heaviness in his voice—a lustful appreciation—as the cream swirled through the water and against my thighs. Then he rose to his feet and made me fall back into the bath before slowly pouring more of the cream over my chest. It splashed onto me and ran over my breasts in rivulets.
I gasped to feel the cool thickness pouring over my nipples, caressing them, chilling them, hardening them with pleasure.
I heard him unzip and when I looked up, he’d set down the jug and was producing his hard cock. “Rub it in,” he said, cock in hand, his voice faltering slightly with lust. “The cream.” He was breathless now. “Rub it…into your breasts.”
I did as he asked—and God, did I feel horny, my fingers rubbing voluptuous cream into my nipples and skin, while Marcus Sir breathed heavily above me, his hand jerking faster and faster on his cock.
“God, Miss Spence,” he said. “How many times can you make me come in one single night?” He moaned again, long and low. “This is a record.” His face seemed to pain with pleasure as his gaze swept down my body. “Rub the cream into your pussy, too,” he said.
The cream had trickled down my belly, so it was easy to arch my spine a little and rub the silken fluids into myself. Marcus Sir was jerking off crazily now, his teeth gritted, his eyes filled with the wildness of an orgy. I felt it, too—and just rubbing the cream into my clit was enough to bring me to the brink of climax. I rubbed harder and harder and he didn’t tell me to stop—just kept moving his hand faster until he stumbled forward, gasping, “I’ll cream your body, I’m going to…,” before coming over me in streams.
Against the coldness of the cream, the heat of his come felt warm, and I found this so deliciously dirty that I climaxed against my fingertips, bucking and bucking as the room spun and blurred. When I finally came down from the high, the bath water was a mess of spinning, clouding cream. I saw him above me, candlelight flickering over his features as he gently tugged at his still-hard cock. His gaze seemed to be filled with glistening amazement. “God, you,” he said. Then he repeated, “I knew you were extraordinary as soon as we met. But I never imagined you could make me lose control.”
I smiled, parted my lips, and sang the opening bars of The Mamas & The Papas’ “Dream a Little Dream of Me,” telling him that the stars were shining brightly, and the night breezes were whispering “I love you.” And when I sang those words—I love you—they didn’t seem out of place at all.

Okay, stop licking your fingers! Isn’t she the best? Now go get Cream!