Her Leading Man by Adaline Raine

AR-HLM-Small-LettersGretchen Williams had finally been offered her dream job. After years of writing—screenplays, various freelance jobs, and erotic spanking romance—one of her book series had been adapted for television. She had been over the moon at the invitation to join the crew on set and overlook day to day operations.

Of course she never expected to wind up as the whipping girl. The main actress balked at the idea of a hand coming anywhere near her perfect round behind, and after some deliberations Gretchen offers up her derriere for showbiz . She never dreamed her bottom would be on display for everyone to see, but the bigger problem is the sudden attention from the male lead actor.

Tristan Callahan knew exactly what he was signing up for when he accepted the contract for a one year term, tentative for a second season at best. The subject matter appealed to him for a variety of reasons, ones he kept to himself. Until Gretchen throws a temper tantrum like a true diva. He takes her in hand, right in her own trailer, proving that he’s been doing very little acting so far.

They embark into a secret D/s relationship.

When photos of them together at a local BDSM dungeon surface and leak to the media, they find themselves with tough choices to make. Will their relationship overcome the scandal or is Gretchen doomed to say goodbye to Tristan in true Hollywood fashion?
Her Leading Man can be purchased from Amazon

*****

2bbf71c8cc650a7e9d9ab3.L._V375561261Adaline Raine is an avid reader of spanking romance and is known for reviewing every book she touches!

Her favorite genre to read and write is paranormal. What’s sexier than a dominant shifter or vampire? She has also dipped her toes into AP, and contemporary stories.

Adaline has also become known for her love of creating graphics for others. She has designed custom banners and buttons for various blog hops throughout the community including “Spank or Treat 2013″;”Winter Spanks 2014”; “Summer Spanks 2014”.

Her exclusive feature, Addy’s Couch takes guests books covers and fashions them into a one-of a kind piece for fun or promotional purposes. Contact Adaline at brattyadaline at gmail dot com if you would like her to create something for you!

Adaline runs an active blog on blogspot brattyadaline.blogspot.com as well as a Spanking Romance board on Pintrest http://www.pinterest.com/adalineraine/

You can also find her on Twitter handle Adaline_Raine or on Facebook Raine.Adaline

 

*****

Excerpt:

“What the hell!?” she yelled as she jumped up to tell off whoever it was, but quickly shut her mouth when Tristan appeared on the top step.

Oh my God, what is he doing here?

He pulled the door shut behind him and focused completely on her. He didn’t look happy but at least his hair and clothing were dry. “Would you care to tell me what that was all about?”

Gretchen opened her mouth but closed it again unable to form the right words. She opened it again, but nothing could explain her actions.

Tristan always seemed so laid back, not even the tons of comments and stares from crew members flustered him. But now as he stood in her trailer with a scowl on his perfect face, she wondered about his reaction.

“I don’t kn…know,” she stammered. “I just had a bad day or something.”

“I know a temper tantrum when I see one. Give me more credit.”

She did give him a lot of credit. Gretchen wanted, no, needed him to complete the spanking he started before. But, how the hell could she approach him? He was just an actor, after all, playing the part.

“So, what? You’re not talking now? You sure had a lot to say before.” He took several quick steps to her, and to her immense surprise, grasped her chin. He tilted it upwards, similar to a scene acted out with Blondie, the lead actress, a few weeks ago. “Do you know what I do to women who stomp their feet to get a reaction?”

“Cut,” she muttered. “Line well delivered. Five big stars.”

His eyes darkened at her obnoxious put down,and in seconds she found herself in a position she would not soon forget. He released her chin only to wrap his well muscled arm around her waist and bend her over it. She thrashed, kicking her feet wildly. They were not on set and he had no right to tease her like this!

Dance Of Desire by Scarlet Darkwood

DanceofDesireebookThe House, a local asylum, harbors a dark secret, one that’s guarded with reverence and fierce protection. One side is for teaching select patients fine skills in ways of the flesh. Daren, an attendant at The House, breaks tradition by requesting to treat a patient from the other side, a world totally opposite his own. At nights, Serena thinks she’s alone, sneaking away to perform a steamy, unconventional dance routine in the moonlight; but Daren has been watching her with a lusty eye. Unwittingly, her sensual activities have riled his libido, and he vows he’ll take her to the heights of ecstasy, if she’ll agree to let him tutor her. What starts out as a mere tryst turns into problems as both fall prey to their own angst. Is Daren ready to leave The House, settle into a normal life, and take Serena with him? Does Serena have other ideas? Both tread lightly where emotions are concerned, while antics in the bedroom are no-holds-barred. Struck with an idea, Daren turns Serena’s experience upside down with an unusual plan he’s hatched. Sometimes plans don’t work the way they were intended to.

**Contains graphic scenes not suitable for some tastes**

Dance of Desire is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble and iTunes

*****

1477594_343083179167826_406596588_n1Scarlet Darkwood is an author with Booktrope, as well as an indie author publishing other material. For more information about the latest concerning Scarlet and her work, sign up for her newsletter.

Writing in several genres allows her to unleash her imagination in different directions, creating stories for different audiences. Always preferring avant garde themes, her stories will take the reader on an unusual adventure, exploring the darker parts of the human psyche. From a young age, she’s enjoyed writing and keeping diaries, but didn’t start creating novels until 2012. She’s a Southern girl who lives in Tennessee and enjoys the beauty of the mountains. She lives in Nashville with her spouse and two rambunctious kitties.

Scarlet can be found on her blog, Facebook, Twitter, Google+, Pinterest and Goodreads

*****

Excerpt:

“You’re quite lovely when you dance.”

“Thank you.” She fidgeted, shifting her body in different positions, wiggling her feet up and down and side to side.

“If I didn’t know better, Serena, I’d say you seem distracted. Am I keeping you from something?” He smiled. Their conversation had disrupted her routine.

“No, I’m fine. Just trying to get comfortable.”

Not one to discourage a woman’s routine, especially when it involved potential nudity, he continued. “You’re lying.” He took the liberty of running a finger lightly over her breast, feeling the stiff nipple beneath her dress. “After the first time with your friend, have you continued doing what I’ve seen, even once you got here, finding ways to satisfy yourself when staff weren’t looking and everyone was asleep? I’m sure in some ways, the old man was an added bonus.” He sat up, giving her a pointed look. “Tell me, Serena. It’s okay if that’s true.”

“Maybe,” she said, her voice cold.

“Good for you, that you know what you need. That’s the beauty of my job. I, too, understand what your body wants.” He rubbed tenderly over her other nipple.

Serena sprang up, gathered her scarf, and started to leave, but Daren, possessed with quick reflexes, pulled her down, pinning her tight between his muscular thighs.

“Get off me,” she cried out, reaching to strike a blow at him.

He caught her arms, pressing them back down against the ground. Keeping calm and collected, he said in a soothing tone, “Please don’t run away from me. I’m not trying to take advantage of you. I can help you exercise your spiritual and sexual appetite. You’re a beautiful creature.”

“Please stop. You’re hurting me.” She panted, small sobs catching in her throat.

“Serena, listen to me.” Daren’s tone became more insistent. “Let’s share in carnal pleasures together. You don’t need to fondle ugly old fools to get what you want. If you sign an agreement with me, I can take your body to the heights of ecstasy. I’m well-trained in what I do.”

Without waiting for any protest, he placed a hot, passionate kiss on her lips, slipping in his tongue for good measure. She relaxed against his grip, all her pent-up energy slowly releasing as she sucked his tongue, accepting him as he explored her mouth. He sensed her straining against his thighs. His balls ached. It wouldn’t have taken much coaxing from her to slip between her legs and plunge his swollen cock inside a hot, wet channel. But he was bound by protocol. Until he had her signature, he couldn’t do much more.

Daren ended this kiss. “So what do you say?”

With her arms free, she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair.

Taming Bad by Scarlet Darkwood

TamingBadebookResizedIs biology a friend or foe? This question plagues Newton Grenfield daily. He believes that a man’s virility is the key to his masculinity, his identity. One man’s abundance is another’s curse. Newton discovers how cursed he really is when his libido refuses to shut down, spurring him on in the continual search for the right woman who will welcome his advances in the bedroom. Overeager attempts at finding love fall flat, earning him not only a cold shoulder from the ladies, but an angry father who decides treatment at The House, the local asylum, will do his son good. There’s one catch to this treatment the father demands of Dr. James, The House physician. He wants Newton’s antics stopped—for good.

The doctor has a radical, fail-proof plan that will cut to the core of his patient’s masculine ideologies in more ways than one. Above all, Newton’s attendant must ensure he’s as much of a man when he leaves The House as when he entered it, by helping him hone his lovemaking skills in order to secure the lady of his dreams. One night, Newton meets a young woman wandering the halls of The House, and his life changes forever. He thinks he’s found the right one for him. When he experiences the ultimate change at the hand of Dr. James, he’s left with answering to a confused lover, and wondering if the treatment made a bad situation worse.

**There are graphic scenes and depictions that may not be suitable for sensitive tastes**

Taming Bad can be purchased from Amazon, B&N and iTunes

*****

1477594_343083179167826_406596588_n1Scarlet Darkwood is an author with Booktrope, as well as an indie author publishing other material. For more information about the latest concerning Scarlet and her work, sign up for her newsletter.

Writing in several genres allows her to unleash her imagination in different directions, creating stories for different audiences. Always preferring avant garde themes, her stories will take the reader on an unusual adventure, exploring the darker parts of the human psyche. From a young age, she’s enjoyed writing and keeping diaries, but didn’t start creating novels until 2012. She’s a Southern girl who lives in Tennessee and enjoys the beauty of the mountains. She lives in Nashville with her spouse and two rambunctious kitties.

Authors, crafters, and entrepreneurs have a special place in her heart. She likes to help others in these areas, and appreciates creativity in all its forms. She’s happiest in her shop, where she sells retail, or in front of her computer creating the next entertaining story.

Scarlet can be found on her Blog, Facebook, Google+, Twitter, Tsu, Pinterest and Goodreads

*****

Excerpt:

Daria stood back from the doorway, gazing at the nude man on the bed. One of his hands had been cuffed to the iron headboard. The other remained free. Since he was in a room, staff had wasted no time stripping him of his street clothes, according to House protocol. The cuffed wrist was unusual. Admits and cuffs went hand in hand with attendants deciding when and if to use them. Finding her new charge already tethered held an allure, nonetheless.
His brawny chest displayed strong ripples in the soft bedroom light, and from what she surmised, his face showed extraordinarily good looks—chiseled jaw line, and what looked like a succulent set of lips. Stretched out, he appeared at least six feet in height, with muscular thighs and equally developed arms. No wonder he radiated sex appeal.
Putting the conversation with Dr. James behind her, Daria turned her attention fully on Newton. With eager fascination, she watched as he toyed with his cockhead, fingering the tip. Apparently his trek through the halls had put him in the mood, and he’d wasted no time in imitating many of the inhabitants. He took special delight in stretching out his shaft and releasing, shifting his hips in pleasure when the flesh sprang back into place. Daria licked her lips, her loins heating up. Time to learn more about this bad boy and what made him so bad that his dad wanted him fixed once and for all.
No matter how sensual the interactions between attendant and admit, there remained one rule: no falling in love. Unbridled lust and sex were permitted. Attendants fully treated and cared for their admits, with everything from stern discipline to tender nurturing to basic physical needs, while offering their body for the admit’s learning purposes. Both enjoyed equal satisfaction in the process, engaging in domination and submission roles.
She took a deep breath, strolled into the room, and stood by the bed, gazing down at Newton with lusty eyes. His beauty came through equally well up close. Short cropped sandy hair, taut skin, lips turned into a faint grin. His bright gray eyes held a sullen irreverence, a look that burned through her when he turned his face. A paradox of hot lust mingled with a sting of uneasiness crept slowly through her body.
“Hi, Newton. I’m Daria. I’ll be your attendant during your stay here.”

Dandyland Diaries by D.M.Dewey


Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000026_00010]Blurb:

Steal a peek into the forbidden world of BDSM through the eyes of a new lifestyle Dominatrix. The stories are true. The journey is real.
Follow Goddess SinPlay, a once obedient happy housewife, as she stumbles her way through the twists and turns of life while learning the importance of being true to herself. Gavin came to her like a dream and left like a whisper but would she have changed her time with him if she had known? Nothing is forever. Nothing comes easy. Nothing is as it seems.

 *   *   *

Bio:

dandy 2D.M.Dewey is a fresh face in the taboo world of the fetish community. She has a biting humor and a quick wit. D.M.’s favorite quote ever said about her is “I love all of your stories, ’cause they all sound like lies!” D.M.Dewey resides in Los Angeles with her little crazy faced dog Charlie.

 

D.M.Dewey  can be found:

Twitter   *   Facebook  * Tumblr

Dandyland Diaries can be purchased:

Amazon

 

Excerpt:

Okay, I have worn them once. And it was a really funny story that I’m tempted to tell you about now. I’m trying to decide if it would be a good break for you if I were to show the other side of me—my story as a submissive that turned into a comedy of sorts. All right, here goes. It’s all part of the bigger story, so why not? Let’s just freeze on Sam for a moment. Sam, with his gnarled-up pain face and his freshly slapped dick.

AND:

Flash back to about one year earlier. It was winter and I’d been on that vanilla dating website for about two months now. All I’d come up with so far were horny weirdoes. That was actually okay, since I myself was a horny weirdo, but that wasn’t exactly what I was looking for at the time. I was looking for someone who could really turn me on.

I stumbled upon a handsome guy’s profile and began a simple conversation. We exchanged names and stats (pretty par for the course) that quickly led to more provocative suggestions. He was quick and direct and all too willing to show me what he had to work with in his nether-region, and let me just say that it was a happy and perky beast. I liked how he manhandled me with his words, and I was curious about how he would do that to me in person. I found myself behaving very submissively for the first time in my life, and I was really enjoying the thrill of relinquishing control to him. So we devised a plan.

We agreed he’d sneak into my apartment in the middle of the night and just go nuts on my big ass. I was nervous, scared, and excited all at the same time, and then the door opened. He crept into my apartment as quietly as a cat burglar and slipped into my bed. On that fateful night, he slapped me, spanked me, gagged me, choked me, and when he came on my face, I thought… I am home! This ignited in me a whole new fantasy of someone taking me completely and now I wanted to experience more. I saw that guy a few more times, but it was never quite the same after that first night. It was a very tough act to follow, even if he had been the one performing.

So I was meeting men with the forever-hopeful idea that I would find one that could really top me, and I mean REALLY top me. Not just bang away in a missionary passion until they grunted before falling into a fitful snooze. What I was hoping to find was someone to really take control of my inner dialogue and slap the shit out its dirty mouth. You know, the voice that constantly bitches at you for being a dirty whore while you try to get off? Or is that just me? I doubt it’s just me. Who cares?

Enter, John—shaved-head, earring-wearing, and pseudo-punk kind of guy. He claimed to be an energy vampire, but more importantly, he said he was a dominant in the BDSM world. I barely even knew what that meant at that point. He explained to me that he liked to totally take a woman… (DING, DING, DING, we have a winner, folks!) and fuck for hours.

I sure did like that sound of that. I was single, had no responsibilities other than myself, loved sex, always was careful to “bag the goods,” if you know what I mean, so why not? I told him I was in! I was so in I told him in an email that I would love to get some Ecstasy and roll with him. I don’t know why I wanted to do that since I hadn’t taken any drugs in pretty much a lifetime, but for some reason, I felt like going balls out on this one. Let’s do it! Let’s get high! He was so excited I think he nearly took a squirt right then and there. He was all too happy to supply the Molly if I would host the night.

We made a plan to meet that Saturday night… What is it with Saturday? Is it the go-to day for hedonists? Anyway, he slipped up and admitted he was feeling a little self-conscious about his weight. Uh-oh…

I would meet my close friend, Janet, for coffee the shameful day after a tryst and dish in great detail about the previous night. She was my sounding board throughout all of this. Since she understood my slutty shenanigans, I told her about his worries about his weight.

“He’s a fatty!” She laughed.

I showed her his picture. It was a headshot at best. “Does he look fat to you?” I asked.

“Well, he doesn’t look like he couldn’t be fat,” Janet replied.

Oh my God, she was right; there was definite fat potential in his cheeks. Fuck.

Memoirs of a Sex Slave by Billierosie

Memoirs of a Sex SlaveSizedBLURB:

Billierosie tells the story of Elektra, recently consigned to live her final days at the Ravens’ House for the elderly, and her strange life with Mark, her larger-than-life dominant. Elektra’s love and sordid public encounters convey the woman’s aboslute affection for the older man in a manner only the most talented of authors can achieve.

The novella’s sexual nature is fast and nasty; it’s sure to please those who seek tales of forbidden, wholly carnal lust. Shared partners, multiple partners, degradation, humiliation; all play a part in the tale of a sex slave.

 

 

*   *   *

EXCERPT:

…the feeling of being filled in her rectum thrilled her with its very indecency; she wanted more. As if in a psychic response, the stranger pushed in another finger; she was  tight, but his persistence and the lubricant did their work. Then a third finger. She wanted him to rape her anus, defile her, right there in the middle of the club with everyone looking on.

Slowly he masturbated her rectum; pushing in, retreating, going further in with each push. Her pelvis pushed back on him. It was her body’s reaction to the strange new sensation. She was helpless, her body’s needs dictated the rules. She felt the flat palm of his hand on her buttocks. He was all the way in. Her rectum muscles gripped him tightly. He moved his fingers in a circular motion, stretching her as if in preparation for a man’s thick cock. Elektra trembled as he finger fucked her dirt hole. When he slowly slid his fingers from her, she felt bereft, empty and tears trickled down her cheeks. He moved around to face her and she watched him examine his fingers. She had emptied her bowels earlier in the day, but still his fingers were streaked with her dark excrement. He held his fingers to her mouth a silent order for her to lick them clean. Elektra lapped obediently. She could taste the lube that he’d used and something dark and  forbidden. The taste excited her and she slobbered over his fingers. A tremor of shameful disgust shuddered through her body like an electric shock; what was she becoming?

Memoirs of a Sex Slave can be purchased:

Amazon.co.uk   *   Amazon.com   * Sizzler Edition

 

billierosieBio: People fascinate billierosie. What makes them tick; what are their secrets and lies. The effete guy in the bank; the blonde lady shopping in the supermarket, the elderly lady living in a care home. What stories could they tell? Perhaps erotic stories of sex, intrigue and fetish?

And fetish is high on billierosie’s agenda. The strange, haunting stuff that informs our darkest desires. It could be fur or feathers. Shoes, silk stockings, or toes. Poop or pee. An amputee’s stump. If we made a list it would go on for ever.

billierosie has been writing erotica for about two years; she has been published by Oysters and Chocolate, “The Wedding Dress.” She has also been published by Sizzler, in their “Pirate Booty” anthology. Also in their Sherlock Holmes anthology, “My Love of all that is Bizarre.” She is in Sizzler’s latest anthology; “Hunger” and she has been accepted for a new anthology to be published later this year by Sizzler, erotic tales of London town. She also has a collection of short, erotic stories, “Fetish Worship,” available as a download at Sizzler Editions and Amazon.

She has two novellas, both published by Sizzler Editions in 2012. They are available now as downloads; “Memoirs of a Sex Slave”. And “Enslaving Eli. And not forgetting her very first publication, “Fetish Worship”, a collection of erotica and fetish.

billierosie lives in a pretty village in England. She doesn’t fit with village life; certainly not the Women’s Institute. billierosie loves the theatre, Art, film, books and all things eccentric. billierosie plans to have fun and stay young, writing pornography.

billierosie can be found at her blog

 

Enslaving Eli by Billierosie

EnslavingEliSizedBLURB

When Jasmine the beautiful Dominant meets tall, hunky Eli at the dullest party in the world, Eli wants to see her again. He doesn’t understand her reluctance, they’ve had fun together and it isn’t as if he is asking her to marry him, just maybe a cup of coffee. When Jasmine tells Eli of her secret life, Eli is intrigued and gradually he is initiated into a world of BDSM, that as Jasmine’s submissive, is impossible for him to walk away from.

Jasmine tells Eli tales of a secret, exclusive organisation, The Coterie. The Coterie is centuries old. Its members are Dominant women; their ethos in life is total submission of the male. Eli endures humiliation, depravity and absolute control, at the hands of Mistress Jasmine. But Eli and Jasmine are more than Mistress and slave, they have fallen in love. When Mistress Jasmine is killed in a road traffic accident, Eli is devastated. Officially, Eli now belongs to The Coterie. He is property. He is told that he is to be sold to another Mistress. Eli has other ideas.

“Enslaving Eli”, is told from Eli’s point of view, in the form of flashbacks, as the Mistresses of the sinister Coterie organisation  reach out to regain control of their property.

The story explores a much under discussed orientation; that of the male submissive. Relinquishing control, is not seen as a masculine way to go about things. But in relinquishing control, Eli’s life is fulfilled.

*   *   *

EXCERPT ENSLAVING ELI

Eli stood in front of a large black and white photo. It featured a naked male being raped; but not by a man, by a woman. You could just see the line of her strap-on. She was lithe and muscular, with short, cropped, blonde hair. Her pert breasts were small. Her victim was on all fours and wore some sort of bridle. A metal bit was in his mouth. The same sort of thing that you use to control horses. The woman was raping him doggie fashion. Her cock was rammed into his arse, up to the hilt. The victim’s own cock was huge; the rapist was reaching beneath him, her fingers curved around his erection. He was being held firmly by his head by another woman; she was clothed in a black leather corset and high heeled boots. The male was being controlled and violated by the two women. Eli had the feeling that these weren’t actors, staging a scene. This was an event. This had happened.

Enslaving Eli can be purchased:

Amazon.co.uk   *   Amazon.com   *   Sizzler Editions

 

*   *  *

billierosieBio: People fascinate billierosie. What makes them tick; what are their secrets and lies. The effete guy in the bank; the blonde lady shopping in the supermarket, the elderly lady living in a care home. What stories could they tell? Perhaps erotic stories of sex, intrigue and fetish?

And fetish is high on billierosie’s agenda. The strange, haunting stuff that informs our darkest desires. It could be fur or feathers. Shoes, silk stockings, or toes. Poop or pee. An amputee’s stump. If we made a list it would go on for ever.

billierosie has been writing erotica for about two years; she has been published by Oysters and Chocolate, “The Wedding Dress.” She has also been published by Sizzler, in their “Pirate Booty” anthology. Also in their Sherlock Holmes anthology, “My Love of all that is Bizarre.” She is in Sizzler’s latest anthology; “Hunger” and she has been accepted for a new anthology to be published later this year by Sizzler, erotic tales of London town. She also has a collection of short, erotic stories, “Fetish Worship,” available as a download at Sizzler Editions and Amazon.

She has two novellas, both published by Sizzler Editions in 2012. They are available now as downloads; “Memoirs of a Sex Slave”. And “Enslaving Eli. And not forgetting her very first publication, “Fetish Worship”, a collection of erotica and fetish.

billierosie lives in a pretty village in England. She doesn’t fit with village life; certainly not the Women’s Institute. billierosie loves the theatre, Art, film, books and all things eccentric. billierosie plans to have fun and stay young, writing pornography.

billierosie can be found at her blog

His Desire, Her Surrender by Malia Mallory

His_Desire_Her_SurrenderSizedTitle – His Desire, Her Surrender
Author – Malia Mallory

Tabitha Quinn’s Hawaii vacation was anything but ordinary. Dominant billionaire Marcus Granger saved her life, swept her into his bed, and then left her heartbroken. Now she’s back in New York, mourning the man she’s sure she’ll never see again.

Marcus may have left handprints on her skin, but Tabitha’s left handprints on his heart: he tracks her down, and they resume the sizzling affair they began in the islands.

Tabitha belongs to Marcus body and soul in bed, but she worries she doesn’t belong in his high-stakes world. They’ve already dodged a murder attempt, and now Marcus is fighting off a competitor’s takeover. When the rival company obtains critical information, suspicion falls on Tabitha. She has to prove she’s innocent–and worthy to wear Marcus’s collar.

 

MaliaMalloryIcon-1Malia Mallory lives in Hawaii with her husband and daughter. She’s been working with words since alphabet blocks rolled into her crib, not only writing her own work but copy editing and proofreading the work of others. She has loved to read about relationships since she first sneaked off with her mother’s Harlequin.

Malia Mallory is the best-selling author of The ABCs of Erotica series, which covers the erotic spectrum from BDSM to ménage and everything in between. More releases in the series are on the way. She has also released the Mia’s Cop Craving series and Santa’s Backdoor Baby. Malia’s books have hit the bestselling erotica lists at both Amazon and iTunes. Her books are available in electronic format at major retailers like Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, Kobo, Sony, Diesel, Smashwords and AllRomance Books.

Connect with Malia Mallory:

Twitter * Facebook * Blog * Web Page

His Desire, Her Surrender is available:

Amazon US   *   Amazon UK   *   Barnes & Noble

Smashwords   *   All Romance

Excerpt:

“Tabitha?”
She tilted her head, waiting.
“Take off your clothes.” Dominance filled his voice. This was the Marcus she remembered. This was the Marcus her heart refused to release. Tabitha unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off. Her back still toward him, she slid her skirt down over her hips, along with her panties. She stepped out, revealing stockings and garters instead of pantyhose. Her fingers reached for the garter.
“Leave them. I like the stockings. They look quite lovely on you. And your shoes. Don’t they call those fuck me heels?” His teasing conveyed a hint of challenge.
Tabitha blushed and turned around as she unfastened her bra. He was right about the shoes. The black patent leather gleamed even under the fluorescent lights of the conference room. The heels, high and spiky, were just barely office appropriate. She dropped her bra on the carpet and raised her eyes to his, trapped by the compelling intensity of his stare.
“Undress me.” His gaze invited her touch.
Tabitha smiled. “It would be my pleasure.” All thoughts of self-preservation fled her mind. This was Marcus. He was here, right now. And she needed him.
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
Tabitha rephrased her response. “It would be my pleasure, Sir.”
He gave an almost imperceptible signal of approval.
Tabitha advanced toward Marcus, clad only in her shoes, stockings and garters. She shivered, goosebumps rising on her skin. She softened inside as she reached for him. Her fingers grasped the top button on his dress shirt and, one by one, she slowly unfastened them. She moved close, close enough to feel his radiating heat. Her fingertips trailed down one arm and undid his cufflink and then turned to the other, repeating her actions. With her fingertips, she brushed the fabric off his shoulders until the shirt drifted free of his body. She caught it, folded it neatly, and placed it on a chair.
Tabitha ached to wrap herself around him, but resisted. She reached for his belt. Her fingers shook as she unfastened the buckle, followed by the waistband of his pants. She lowered the zipper, brushing against his growing erection. She pushed his pants and underwear down only to realize his shoes were still on. Embarrassed, she met his eyes.
“Don’t worry, we’ll practice.” He slid off his shoes and stepped out of his pants and briefs.
Tabitha picked up his slacks and folded them along the creases, smoothing the fabric with her hands. She tucked his briefs inside the pants and placed them by his shirt.
Marcus was naked. Gloriously naked. Tabitha swayed as the memory of their powerful encounters in Hawaii swept through her. She quivered and her nipples puckered. Her hand reached out toward him.

One Shade of Red by Scott Bury

ShadeofRedSizedOne Shade of Red

 

Women want the perfect man, so they can change him. But when university student Damian Serr discovers a rich, beautiful woman who’s voracious about sex, he doesn’t try to improve on perfection. It’s all that he can do to hold on for the ride.

 

Damian has always followed the rules, always tried to please others. At 20, he still dates the girl next door because his parents like her parents. When Nick, his university roommate, asks Damian to take over his pool-cleaning business so he can take an internship in London, Damian can’t say no — especially to Nick’s first and only client, a rich widow.

 

But widow Alexis Rosse is far from helpless or lonely. This beautiful financial genius is busy turning the markets upside-down, and she revels in sex wherever, whenever and with whomever she wants.

 

Over the summer, Alexis gives Damian an intense education. Day after day, she pushes him to his sexual limits. The only question he has is: will she break them?

 

“So well-written that it flows easily, hooking the reader right from the beginning. I had real problems to stop reading it.” — Cinta Garcia de la Rosa, author of A Foreigner in London and reviewer of Indie Authors You Want to Read.

 

“How nice it is to see a dude lit-style book! And well-written at that!” Lisa Jey Davis, “Ms. Cheevious”

 

“So hot, you’ll want your own pool boy.” — Charity Parkerson, author of The Society of Sinners

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Scott2011Bio:

Scott Bury is a journalist, editor and novelist based in Ottawa, Canada. His articles have appeared in magazines in Canada, the US, the UK and Australia, including Macworld, the Financial Post, Applied Arts, the Globe and Mail and Graphic Arts Monthly.

One Shade of Red is his second novel to be published.

His first published novel is The Bones of the Earth, a fantasy set in the real time and place of eastern Europe of the sixth century. He has also published a short story, Sam, the Strawb Part (proceeds of which are donated to an autism charity), and a paranormal story, Dark Clouds. His work in progress is tentatively titled Walking from the Soviet Union, and tells the true story of a Canadian drafted into the Red Army during the Second World War, his escape from a German POW camp and his journey home.

Scott Bury lives in Ottawa with his lovely, supportive and long-suffering wife, two mighty sons and the orangest cat in history.

Scott can be found:

Website * Blog * Twitter * Facebook

One Shade of Red can be purchased:

Amazon * Smashwords

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Excerpt: from Chapter 3, “Emergency Pick-Up

 

I was sure she could hear my heart pounding, because that’s all I could hear at that point. I hadn’t noticed what she was wearing when I got in the car. As we passed under streetlamps, I could see that she was wearing a pink jogging jacket, but her legs were bare.

She noticed me looking at her. “That’s right, Damian. This jacket is all I have on.”

With that, she swung the car into her driveway. I sat there, staring as she walked, bare-assed, to her front door, the flip-flops of her sandals echoing down the street. She turned to me from the step, smiled and pulled off the jacket. She posed for a second, nude, and tossed the jacket into the house, then stepped inside.

She left the door open. I ran in after her, slammed the door behind me and took the stairs two at a time. I glimpsed her ass as she disappeared from the hallway into a room.

What an ass! Round, high, firm. I had to grab it. I was drooling.

I found myself in a bedroom lit softly by an old-fashioned table lamp. Beside it on the night table was a book, open but face down, one half hanging over the table’s side. Inevitably, it was Fifty Shades of Grey.

The bed was the biggest I had ever seen, with four high wooden posts holding up a lacy awning. Mrs. Rosse was posing on it, sort of sitting on her side, looking at me. Her breasts hung slightly over her arms and her long hair was a wild storm.

“I thought you said you wanted to get naked with me. Oh, wait, that was your friend. I guess he wanted to get naked. Should I call him instead?”

I shut my mouth and struggled out of my clothes. I pulled my runners off with my feet as I pulled my t-shirt over my head. Taking my pants down required a little more care as my erection was pushing them out pretty far. Mrs. Rosse laughed a little, but that didn’t faze me. I jumped onto the bed, landing beside her, and kissed her mouth.

She responded to my tongue with her own, wrestling with it. I grabbed at her boobs, but she pushed my hands down and away. “Slow down, speed demon. We have all night.”

I sat up and kissed her neck, starting high and working slowly down. I dragged my teeth lightly over her collarbone and she sighed. She ran her fingertips up and down my sides. That usually tickles me, but her fingers felt like they were on fire.

She kissed me again and slid her tongue into my mouth, then sucked on my lip. I copied her, then kissed her throat again. I kissed lower and lower — I had to get those red nipples into my mouth.

I licked her breasts, sliding my tongue over the top of one breast and around the outside of the nipple. Since she wanted to take all night to do this, I thought I would be creative.

Hell, no matter what I did, it would be creative — this was my first time.

So I licked around the outside curve of her breast, then underneath, sliding my tongue all the way to the other breast, up and around. She was breathing fast and shallow and her eyes were closed.

I decided to take what I wanted, and sucked her nipple into my mouth.

“Not so hard. Don’t bite!” she said. She pushed her fingers through my hair. I let up on the pressure and sucked lightly, then kissed just the very tip of the other nipple as lightly as I could. I was rewarded with a deep sigh.

She put her hand behind my head and pushed deeper, so I sucked and licked her nipple, trying to remember to be gentle. I couldn’t believe how soft and simultaneously firm a woman’s breast could be.

She opened her eyes and smiled at me. Not a wicked smile, or a calculating smile. She just looked very happy at that moment. I came up for a tender kiss on the mouth. She pulled me close till her bare skin touched mine, all down my body — the biggest thrill I had ever known.

“You’re doing very well for your first time,” she said. Before I could ask her how the hell she knew, she said “Go down on me now.”

What if I did it wrong? I could not bring myself to say I didn’t know what to do.

She’ll let you know when you’re doing it right or wrong, said another part of my brain. So I took her words literally and went down, kissing her neck, her breasts, taking time to suck each nipple again. I kissed her flat belly and licked her navel, then lower. I kissed her pubic hair and inhaled her sexy scent: musky but somehow sweet at the same time.

Blue Moon House by Angelica Dawson

 

BlueMoonHouseSizedJulia has the chance to become one of the vampires of the Blue Moon House. Before being accepted, however, she must prove herself to each of the vampires, and each has their own exacting cost.
Ranging from lesbian, to being forced, to physical torture, she is pushed to her breaking point time and again. Eventually her perseverance pays off and she crosses from submissive to dominant and vampire.

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Excerpt:

Harry picked her up and carried her to her rooms. “She won’t be available tonight, Nicholas. She has been too badly used.”

“Wait. Is he the last?” Julia asked. “The last vampire,” she clarified.

“I am,” Nicholas said.

“Then let me clean myself. Give me an hour.” She kicked her legs down from Harry’s arms and walked to the bathroom, wincing with each step.

Harry followed her. “You don’t have to do this. We have eternity, another week is nothing.”

Julia shook her head. “I might lose heart in another week. If I spend a week thinking about what just happened, I might believe more of it. I need something to come after that. Something else to think about.”

Harry hugged her, ignoring the horrible smell coming from her. “I’ll bring you an ointment. Apply it after you’ve washed.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

She ran the tub and lounged in it, soaking away the aches, the new bruises over the old, the burning in her pussy and ass. Not long after she’d settled in, the door to the bathroom opened and Nicholas came to sit on the toilet lid.

Julia sighed. An eternity, but this vampire couldn’t wait an hour.

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02-1Bio: Angelica Dawson has been writing for several years and having sex a lot longer than that. Angelica is a wife, mother and environmental consultant. Her love of plants and the outdoors is not diminished by the bloodsucking hoards — mosquitoes and black flies, not vampires. She is the author of Blue Moon House and its upcoming prequels as well as a pair of short stories in the third Campus Sexploits anthology and first Serviced anthology from Naughty Nights and Breathless Presses respectively.

 

Angelica can be found:

Facebook   *   Twitter   *   Blog   *   Amazon Author Page

Blue Moon House can be purchased at:

Amazon   *   Naughty Nights Press

 

The Billionaire’s Muse by Ava Lore

 

TheBillionairesMuseSizedTitle: The Billionaire’s Muse (The Complete Series) (A BDSM Erotic Romance)
Author: Ava Lore
Blurb: An artist on her way up…

Artist Sadie MacElroy has landed a sweet gig as the personal assistant to her best friend, Felicia Waters. Despite her scattershot creative nature, she’s a whiz at organizing, planning, and ordering people around. But her sweet gig turns sour at a charity art auction she’s organized when she bumps into a stage lackey and sends a 17th century Qing Dynasty vase crashing to the ground. Electing to take the fall, Sadie attempts to arrange payment of the vase to its owner, eccentric billionaire and (extremely) amateur artist Malcolm Ward.

A powerful man on his way down…

Malcolm, however, doesn’t care about the money or the vase, or much of anything. His whimsical, eccentric side hides a dark pain and a grim future, and only the promise of Sadie gives him hope. Inspired by his “muse,” Malcolm decides he only wants her, any way he can have her: in front of his camera, under his brush… or in his bed.

An intimate passion…

Unbeknownst to Sadie, time is running out for Malcolm, and when she discovers his secrets, it’s up to her to convince him that life is worth living, painful scars and all.

Buy Links:

Amazon   *   Amazon UK   *   Barnes & Noble
Kobo Books   *   All Romance eBooks

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Exclusive extract:

“Take off your bra,” he said. “I want to study my canvas.”
Shivers raced over my skin. Reaching behind me, I unhooked my bra and let it slide down my arms to fall to the floor. Malcolm stood and began to circle me.

I remained still, my head held high, wanting nothing more than to leap across the space between us, hook my legs around his waist, and ride him until I came over and over again. What was he doing to me?

Driving me just as crazy as he is, I thought. Maybe he was a bit mad. But it was a good sort of mad. The madness of artistry, the madness of genius. He finally stopped in front of me and reached out, his hands cupping my small breasts, lifting them up and running his thumbs over my nipples. My core quivered and I moaned softly at his touch.

“Sensitive there, are you?” he said.

I nodded.

“Good.” He slid his warm hands up my chest to my shoulders, and then let his fingers drift down, down, down the back of my arm to my hands. Gently, he tangled his fingers with mine and led me over to the cloth in the center of the floor.

“Kneel,” he commanded me, and I did so. The warmth of his palms sliding over my body guided me into the position he wanted, and I reveled in his every touch as he pushed my face down to the floor, stretched my arms out in front of me, arched my back so my ass stuck in the air. He lifted my heavy mass of hair and slid it over one shoulder, then traced his hands over my spine.

“You have many tattoos,” he said after a moment. “I love them. You are a work of art.”

No man had told me I was art before. I closed my eyes, praying he would paint me and then fuck me. I couldn’t take the teasing much longer.

My exposed pussy quivered in the air, though the warmth of the room kept the caresses of the drafts from being uncomfortable. I ached for him. I ached for anything. I wished, suddenly, that I wasn’t the passive canvas, that I could touch him as much as he touched me.

He knelt down beside me. “Your back is beautiful,” he said. “You are exquisitely structured.” The scrape of the table legs on the floor echoed around the studio as he dragged his materials over to himself. I heard the unscrewing of a cap and the rustle of his movements as he dipped a brush into the paint. Then he touched brush to skin, and I sighed in pleasure.

Slowly, torturously, he dragged the tip of his brush over my back, winding down my spine in spirals, wandering where it would. I had no idea what he was doing. My forehead touched the floor and I could only see his knees from the cave of my body, but whatever he was doing felt amazing. Swift, then slow, strong, then soft, he painted my skin. Occasionally he would dip the brush into the paint again, and I quivered, wondering where he would paint me next. I was never disappointed. First he painted the back of my thigh, then the curve of my waist. Then, finally, his brush found my breast. It curled under and over, circling my nipple, until I nearly moaned in frustration.

“Would you like me to touch your nipple?” he said. He sounded amused. “Nod if yes.”

I nodded.

I watched as he reached down to the hard little point of my breast. Then my breath caught as he pushed his pointer into his thumb, and then flicked me.

Pleasure laced with pain shot out across me, darting straight from my nipple to my heart, and I cried out.

“Too much?” he asked. “Nod if yes.”

I remained perfectly still, and I heard his breathing pick up the pace.

“Good,” he said. He ran the brush over the now throbbing nub, soothing it. I was so wet between my legs it was a miracle I wasn’t just dripping down my thighs. He flicked me again, then soothed me, flicked and soothed, flicked and soothed, over and over, until I was crying out and twitching with each burst of pleasurable pain.

At last he stopped, then ran his fingertips over my back and side. He traced the swell of my ass and reached around, brushing his fingers against my quivering cunt, feeling the soaking wetness there.

“Ah, Sadie,” he breathed. “You truly are alive.” He shifted, moving around to my back. God, why wouldn’t he let me touch him? I needed to touch him. I wanted his cock in my hands, in my mouth. I’d never wanted anyone like I’d wanted Malcolm Ward, and the wanting was all the more potent because he didn’t seem to want me to have him.

“Hmm,” he said suddenly. “I need a new brush. But I have forgotten a place where I could store my used brushes. I truly am an amateur.”

His voice had a wicked undertone, and my pulse quickened. Was he going to do what I thought he was going to do?

Hot breath gusted between the cheeks of my ass, caressing the tight puckered entrance there. Then he slid his tongue over my asshole, soft, sensuous, layering it with moisture, so that when he finally pressed the rounded tip of the brush handle past the tight ring of muscle, it went easily, and I moaned and quaked around it.

“Do you like it?” he asked me. “Nod if yes.”

I nodded.

“Good.”

I heard him select another brush, and then he began to swirl it over the mounds of my ass, dragging paint here and there, tickling and teasing me until he rinsed it out and then inserted it alongside the first one. Then another, and another. Slowly he stretched me out, and I quivered with desire to be used so. My pussy was melting. I needed him inside me, but I knew he wouldn’t give me what I wanted yet.

He selected another brush. “I like this part of you,” he said.

There was a pause and I almost opened my mouth to ask him what he meant, but then he swiped the bristles of the brush over my burning slit and I squeaked as they flicked against my clitoris.

“This part is very alive,” he said. “It almost has a mind of its own.” He flicked my clitoris with the brush again and I groaned at the intensity of the sensation. The pleasure coiled and curled in my belly, and I felt myself beginning the long, slow climb up to the top of the mountain, and when I finally let go I would plunge into pleasure. My mouth watered, my body strained, even as I struggled to stay still. The brushes in my ass filled me up. and I ached to feel the same in my tight core.

“I’d like to watch you come,” Malcolm said. “Would you like that? Nod if yes.”

I didn’t want to nod. “Yes!” I cried.

He reached around and flicked my nipple again, and I bucked and shrieked. So much more intense, so much more satisfying, now that he was touching me where I most needed him. He began to flutter the bristles of the brush over my slit, gathering the slick juices there, as though he were loading the brush with paint, and when he dragged it over my clit as if he were layering paint onto a canvas I couldn’t help but cry out and writhe under his tender attention…

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Screen shot 2013-03-15 at 5.55.10 PMBio: Ava Lore was raised by wombats and lives to corrupt the innocent. When not writing erotic romance, she spends her time thinking about writing erotic romance and drinking enough iced coffee to kill a musk ox. She lives in Dallas and is the curator of one kid, one husband, one dog, one garden, and a million half-finished knitting and spinning projects.
Ava can be found:
 
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