Hound Dog by Deliza Rafferty


In “Hound Dog,” Volume 4 of the Savannah Rossi Chronicles, Savannah lands a major studio gig with one of the music industry’s hottest songwriter/producers. However, she is blindsided when she shows up to the job to find that the only man she ever gave her heart to – the one who also demolished it several years prior – is the sound engineer on the recording sessions. As painful memories are revisited, Savannah and Jax struggle to behave professionally in spite of the deep-seated hatred and intense desire they still hold for each other. Time does not necessarily heal all wounds – and new ones can still be inflicted…

The “Savannah Rossi Chronicles” follow the steamy adventures of sexy, independent, musically-gifted singer/songwriter Savannah Rossi, who is teetering on the verge of national success. This is no spoiled brat pop princess looking to be saved. Confident, driven, intelligent and unabashed in her sexuality, Savannah has created her own success and enjoys a vibrant sex life on her own terms with men of her choosing. Is it possible that any one man could tame such an independent free spirit? Who says she even needs to be tamed? Follow Savannah’s journey to find out.

*Contains graphic sexual content, language and mild violence.*


Deliza Rafferty is a new erotic romance writer (spicier than traditional romance without hardcore BDSM – always hot, sometimes humorous!) located in Hollywood. “Deliza” means “gives pleasure” and “Rafferty” means “rich and prosperous.” With a name like that, what else could she do? Well…legally, anyway?

Rafferty has written all sorts of stories, poems and songs for personal enjoyment since she was a little girl, but has been writing “dirty dramas” secretly since her first real kiss in middle school. She’s spent most of her “real” career in the music business and draws from her unique first hand experience to bring to life her current series, The Savannah Rossi Chronicles. She is venturing into sharing her musings publicly for the very first time and is excited that modern day technology allows her to do it at her leisure and maintain control of her work.

Deliza can be found:

Website/Blog   *   Facebook   *   Twitter

Hound dog can be purchased at:

Smashwords   *   Amazon


At the tender age of seventeen Savannah had answered an ad in Music Connection magazine for a band needing a backup singer.  An incredibly voluptuous girl from an early age, she had been getting hit on by much older boys for years already.  So she lied about her age and auditioned, knowing they’d never be the wiser unless she said something.  Her triple threat of true talent, raven-haired beauty and prematurely rocking body landed her the gig on the spot.

It also landed her the smoking hot lead guitar player.  Jax was six years her senior and had no idea she was under age till long after it was too late.  In a matter of weeks Savannah had fallen madly in love.  At the time, she had been positive he felt the same for her, because he could hardly keep his hands off her when they were alone.  While she wasn’t the most innocent of high school girls, lusty since she hit puberty and having acted upon many a curiosity already, she had still treasured her virginity and guarded it for her first true love – or at least until she found someone she trusted and to whom she wouldn’t regret giving it.  She had never experienced such base carnal urgings before she met Jax.  It never occurred to her that the reason was not just because he was so hot, but possibly because he wasn’t an inexperienced high school boy like the ones Savannah had willingly experimented with previously.  A few years experience set Jax crucially apart.  However, at heart Savannah was still just an innocent seventeen year old girl who was hopelessly smitten and dreamed of happily ever after.

It wasn’t long before she decided to give Jax her virginity, which he unceremoniously took one night after a gig in one of the green rooms of The Roxy on the Sunset Strip.  They’d flirted shamefully on the stage with each other that night and when the gig was over they could barely get back to the green room fast enough.  They’d rushed, tearing at each others’ clothes in a frenzy; a tangle of glittered hair, hungry mouths, probing tongues and grasping hands.  When he breathlessly exclaimed that he couldn’t stand to wait another minute to get inside of her; when instead of pulling her stockings down he’d impatiently ripped open a hole in the crotch and jerked aside her panties; when she’d felt the large, smooth head of the first disturbingly hard cock that would ever nestle at the mouth of her pussy, she couldn’t tell him no before he’d gone and thrust himself full on into her.  She’d screeched with the pain as he barreled through her hymen.  He got in three solid thrusts before he realized what was actually happening.

He stopped abruptly, still inside her, his expression panicked.  “Jesus, why didn’t you tell me, Sav?”

She gritted her teeth against the foreign, glutted feeling of that thing ripping her apart from the inside and tried to blink back the tears that had welled up in her emerald eyes.  She only succeeded in sending them rolling down her cheeks.  On a heartbreakingly quiet sob she answered, “You…never asked.”

The panic in Jax’s face turned to incredulity, but then softened.  To his credit, he said softly, “Shit Sav, this isn’t how it should’ve been for you.  We can stop-”

“No!” she yelped, tightening her legs around his waist, ignoring the searing pain.  “I want this.  I want it to be you.”  Then she blurted, “I love you.”

She couldn’t read the expression she saw on his face then, because she’d never seen it before.  He just looked at her with those spectral eyes that were certainly not blue, but neither were they truly brown, green, gray, nor even hazel.  They reminded Savannah of a piece of amber she’d seen as a little girl in her older sister’s jewelry box that seemed to change depending on how light reflected through it.  Whatever color his eyes were, she always found herself spellbound by them.

“Say something,” she whispered.

After an awkward moment, “Are you sure you want to keep going?” was what he said.

Even though Savannah’s heart sank and her gut screamed in alarm that he hadn’t said, “I love you, too,” she bit her lip and nodded.

So he finished fucking her on the very same couch upon which, six months later, Savannah would find him doing the same to the other backup singer in their band.  She never returned to the band after the horrible night she discovered them.  She never even bothered to call their manager and officially quit.  Jax never called her again, either.  It was simply…over.

Jax Taylor was the first man Savannah had ever given her heart to and he was the first to destroy it.  He was also the last, since she’d never dared to open her heart up to any man like that again.

Fire Always Burns by Krista Lakes

Fire always burns. Three friends just have to make sure that it doesn’t burn them.
Holly managed to escape the boring mountain town where she was born by going to college. However, she found herself having too many wild nights and too many mornings of waking up in unfamiliar beds to keep her scholarship. Now that’s she’s back in Conifer, she has no idea what she is going to do with her life and no hope for the future.
Luke’s little brother is miserable after being shuffled away from his friends and family after his parents’ bitter divorce. Luke feels helpless, and he will do anything it takes to bring his little brother home where he belongs.
Andrew’s father died a couple years ago in an electrical accident, leaving him to care for his distraught mother. More than anything, he wants to move on and escape this small town to follow his dreams, but his mother would be lost without someone to take care of her.
When these three friends reconnect, Holly comes up with a plan, a plan that will change all their lives for the better. She knows that to start a fire, all it takes is a spark. However, as the sparks ignite and begin to burn, she realizes that she may have stood too close to the flame, and the torch she carries for Andrew burns brighter than ever.
Will Holly manage to rekindle old loves, or will the destructive fire in their hearts consume everything they hold dear?
**Mature Content** Recommended for ages 17+ due to sexual situations and language.
*   *   *
Excerpt:His lips were soft and inviting. He kissed me back, deeper this time, a passion stirring within me.

“Your aunt is working tonight, right?” I whispered, a naughty grin spreading across my face.

“She isn’t supposed to be home until eight,” he answered slowly, my grin mirroring on his face.

“Then kiss me again,” I whispered.

“Gladly,” he replied, his voice gaining a husky quality. He kissed me, our lips meeting and merging, tasting one another. He gently bit my lower lip, making me moan softly. His kisses flowed down my neck, stopping to nibble on the curve of my shoulder. My body temperature was rising, a primitive need beginning to take control.

I grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head. He wiggled out of it, tossing it to the side as I ran my fingers down his front. His muscles hardened under my hand, as he kissed my shoulders and neck. He nuzzled the strap of my tank top, pushing it until my shoulder lay exposed in the moonlight. He bit it gently, sending a thrill through me. His hand crept up the soft fabric, cupping my breast in his hand through the thin material. My nipple beaded into a tight point as his fingertips caught it, and he let out a chuckle.

With his opposite hand he pushed the other strap of my shoulder, his thumb gently rubbing against my nipple. A low moan escaped my lips, and I could feel him smile. He let go of me for just an instant, pulling my tank top up over my head. Moonlight caught the curves of his shoulders and highlighted the grin on his face. I lay back slowly, feeling his eyes absorbing me.

With touches lighter than feathers, he slowly traced his fingers across my collarbone and along the curves of my breasts. My breath caught in my throat as he traced gentle designs across my skin. He chuckled again, a sound that made me dampen with excitement. Keeping his fingers gently caressing the tender edge of my far breast, he bent down and took the other in his mouth.

I arched my back as he flicked his tongue against my nipple, waves of heat rolling through me. His suckled gently, still teasing me with his fingers as his hand crept lower and lower. His fingertips brushed my bellybutton and crept down to the elastic waistband of my pajama shorts. I tensed for a moment as he slid under the band and pushed his fingers against me.

He pushed gently at my panties, his fingers navigating to find me pleasure. In less than a heartbeat he began stroking across the fabric, teasing the part of me that was throbbing with need. He made slow constant circles with his thumb, his tongue still flicking against my nipple. I could feel my legs begin to twitch, my core vibrating with need.

He stopped and sat up, pulling his hand up and out. I groaned with need, which he answered with a short laugh. “Just wait a second,” he said, his voice husky. He tugged gently on my shorts, pulling them low on my hips. I happily raised them, allowing him to slide them off. He was gentle as he maneuvered them across the bulky cast. I bit my lip, watching the way his muscles rippled in the moonlight. He grinned impishly, and pulled on my panties, tossing them on top of my shorts.

I lay bare in the moonlight, ready for his touch. He put his thumb against my clit again, slowly starting his circles. A gentle finger parted my folds and navigated towards my opening. With wonderful slowness, he pushed it inside, and the slowly out again. I arched my hips, begging him silently to fill me again. He rocked his fingers in and out, his thumb never stopping its slow circles. My entire being began to quake, desire and pleasure threatening to overwhelm me. Bliss rolled through me like a wave crashing into the shore. For a glorious moment, I was floating on a sea of joy and sensation; colors washed through me and I forgot to breathe.

He slowly withdrew his hand as my lungs began to work again. A wonderful sense of relief filled me, but an ache for more replaced it. I opened my eyes, and looked up into Andrew’s. He could see the need within me, his eyes shining with need of his own. He stood and slipped out of his shorts and boxers, his member already hard and erect.

*   *   *

Alligator-1Krista Lakes is a newly turned 30 year old who recently rediscovered her passion for writing. She can’t get enough about writing about love, sex, and romance. She loves aquatic life and running marathons. She is living happily ever after with her Prince Charming and her bouncing baby boy.
Krista can be found:
Website   *   Facebook   *   Blog
Fire Always Burns can be purchased:
Amazon   *   B&N   *   iTunes

Vegas Knights by Marina Maddox

After a passionate public encounter with a mysterious and very sexy biker, big girl Kelly Saunders finds herself on the ride of her life. Her ‘Knight on shining armor’ — Rick Knight, billionaire heir to a motorcycle legacy — whisks her away from her soul-sucking corporate job to Las Vegas, where she finds the road to love is treacherous.

As urgent business matters demand more and more of Rick’s attention, Kelly is left to wonder about the future of their relationship. A ruthless betrayal throws her life into turmoil, and a devastating discovery threatens to pull them apart. Is their love just so much Vegas glitter or is it strong enough to survive beyond the dazzling lights of Sin City?

*   *   *

They sat entwined under the stars, swaying slightly with the rhythm of their own bodies. Rick’s hands moved slowly from her hair down her back. Shivers of anticipation rippled through Kelly. They were going to make love under the stars. It had always been a fantasy of hers but she’d never imagined it would come true. But a lot of things she’d never imagined were happening lately.

Feeling the need to show him she wasn’t some precious flower that needed tending and special care, that she was an independent woman, Kelly took control. His eyes never left her body as she moved to stand over him, legs spread, hands on her hips.

“Strip.” The single word brought a knowing smirk to Rick’s face. Without a word, and still never taking his eyes from her, he eased his off his jacket, throwing it aside. His gaze was positively smoldering as he loosened his tie and started to pull it over his head.

“Leave it.” Kelly commanded on impulse. His hands paused, then dropped to the front of his charcoal Armani button-down, his eyes burning into her flesh like a brand. His fingers worked slowly, deliberately, intensifying her need for him. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her impatience. Cocking her hip, she let him tease her with his leisurely pace.

When the shirt was lying atop the leather jacket, he looked up expectantly, awaiting her next instruction. When she nodded toward his pants, triumph flashed across his face. She realized her mistake as he moved to stand. Once on his feet, he would tower over her, emphasizing her vulnerability and his dominance.

“On second thought, scratch that.” One of his eyebrows shot up, and a look of exasperation took the place of triumph. She knew the score and she wasn’t going to give him an advantage if she could help it. He leaned back on his elbows — shirtless and irresistible — and studied her.

She couldn’t afford to make a misstep or show any hesitation. This had become less of a game for her and more of a demand for equality in this relationship. He may be rich, but that didn’t mean he was in control here. Either he accepted that they were in this together, as equal partners, or he would be taught that lesson. Of course, she suspected that would be a lesson he might enjoy learning.

Instead of kneeling down to undo his pants, Kelly reached back to unzip her dress. The silk tickled her skin as it shimmered around her bare shoulders. She let one side slid down her arm enough to let Rick see there was no bra strap. She’d been irritated that her bra hadn’t dried by the time she got dressed for dinner, but now she was happy it hadn’t. Her nipples tightened at the silk’s touch, making it even more evident the ‘girls’ were on the loose.

Rick’s eyes widened as they fixated on her breasts. She caught movement in his pants and slow smile graced her lips. He’d be begging for it very soon.

Kelly whipped her soft curls around, Charlie’s Angels-style, distracting Rick, pulling his dazed eyes up to meet her own. Her tongue peeked out from between her lips, moistening them. Biting her lower lip, she let her gaze follow her hands as they slid up her waist to just under her breasts. She glanced at Rick from beneath her lashes, but he didn’t notice. He was too occupied by what she might do next.

Each hand lazily kneaded a mound, scooping and sliding and cupping. Kelly tipped her head back, her locks flowing away down her back, as her hands worked. She took each nipple between her index fingers and thumbs and tugged. She wasn’t sure if the gasp she heard had come from her or Rick. There was no denying the sensation was wonderful, but what was really causing the dampness to flow between her legs was knowing what her little show was doing to him.

“Mmmm,” she moaned, then sucked in air between her teeth.

A rustle from the blanket caught her attention. Rick was moving to unbuckle his belt to give himself room to grow. “Did I say you could do that?” she asked sharply.

His hands stopped and he looked up at her, pleading. She slid one hand up her chest, allowing her breast to jiggle and bounce freely under the silk, and slipped her fingertip between her teeth. Lightly biting it while peering at him from beneath her lashes, she shook her head slowly.

Rick growled in frustration but leaned back on his elbows, no trace of his trademark cocky smirk. Kelly’s gaze traveled easily down his chest and abs to the bulge in his pants. It pulsed defiantly as her gaze settled on it. One side of her mouth tilted into a wicked smile. ‘We’ll see about that,’ she thought.

*   *   *

AuthorPic-6AUTHOR BIO:
Marina Maddix is a romantic at heart, but hates closing the bedroom door on her readers. Her stories are sweet, with just enough spice to make your mother blush. She lives with her husband and cat near the Pacific Ocean, and loves to hear from her fans. Connect with her by email, on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads or her website www.MarinaMaddix.com.

Marina’s Links:

Website   *   Blog   *   Facebook   *   Twitter   *   Goodreads

Vegas Nights can be purchased:

BookStrand   *   Excessica Eden


The Horoscope Writer by Elodie Parkes


A love at first sight story. Two people hungry for love. Something draws Cassie to Dominic and it’s not just that he’s gorgeous.
Dominic struggles with a secret and the intoxicating degree of his love for Cassie.
A winter warmer. A delicious love story with a twist.
Cassie and Dominic’s love is written in the stars.
When Dominic Reed looks out of his study window and sees Cassie, he’s not sure what to make of her at first. That’s before he sees her lovely gray eyes and pretty skin. He’s a writer and works alone, which to his sadness has become his way of life.
When he asks Cassie to have coffee with him, it’s the start of an intoxicating romance for the both of them. If only Dominic didn’t have to hide some of his writing, if only he hadn’t inherited a strange gift from his great uncle Aubrey. Cassie ignites a passion in Dominic that he has never felt and he seeks for a way to bind her to him.
Cassie is an artist and when she falls in love with Dominic she paints him a picture of his wonderful back garden where they have made love, little knowing that it will have a special effect on Dominic.

*   *   *

fbtry-1Author bio
Elodie lives in rural, United Kingdom, and works in an antiques shop as well as writing. She has two dogs that keep her fit with their need for walks.

Elodie writes romance, contemporary, and erotic with a twist of mystery, suspense, or the paranormal, now and then. She likes to make the story unusual in some way, by a quirk in the tale.

Elodie never consciously thought she wanted to be a writer, she just knew she had things to write, starting at  seventeen withe some poetry in journals. Life intervened in her writing time and she stopped serious writing for some time.  A couple of years ago, because she had so many stories in her head, she started writing again seriously

Eldoie has published three erotic romance books to date,

Millie Reinvented, which is a book for women, a love story, an uplifting story for the lonely, there’s a little humor in it and lots of yummy sex.

Two of Them, a contemporary erotic romance that men might like because the two principal characters are men looking for love…lots of secrets and sex.

The Horoscope Writer, A deeply romantic, sexy romance, full of delicious sex, that shows the lovely character of the main male lead, Dominic. Elodie says “He’s my ‘wish he was real guy’,”… touch of paranormal in this.

The Last Time, erotic romance is due for release May 1st .

A short, The Picnic, for an erotic romance anthology to released March 21 in A Celtic Anthology


Find Elodie online:

Blog   *   Facebook   *   Goodreads   *   Twitter   *   Website

Manic Readers   *   Romance Reviews   *   Google+   *   Pinterest

The Horoscope Writer is available:

Amazon.com   *   Amazon.co.uk   *   Smashwords   *   Bookiejar

*   *   *

Excerpt 18+
The Horoscope Writer
They were clinging to each other and Cassie whispered to him between kisses. “Dominic make love to me. Let me feel your skin against mine.”
He was captivated and stood with her in his arms to nuzzle down her neck. She had taken off her jacket and now Dominic moved aside her shirt to bite her shoulder gently. He sucked and kissed, and Cassie kissed him where she could reach, his ear, his neck, with her hands in his hair.
Dominic stood back and pulled off his sweater, and then almost tore the buttons of Cassie’s shirt open to reach her breasts. He pushed her bra down to her waist exposing her breasts and cupping them in his hands. Cassie’s breath was coming in gasps as Dominic sucked on her nipples, and then turned her around to clasp her to him, and kiss down her neck from behind. With his other hand, he unzipped her jeans and slid his hand down her stomach.
Cassie was desperate to feel his fingers inside her, and she arched towards his hand, pushing her jeans down for him to reach her. Dominic moved his fingers down to reach her wet and throbbing for him. He held her gently around her neck to reach her jaw and bring her head back to kiss her lips. With his fingers inside her, his tongue in her mouth, and his own hard desire pressing against her bottom Cassie moaned as she came. She was weak from the sensation, and Dominic was groaning low and whispering something to her. She turned her head more bringing her arms up around his head to keep his kiss on her lips.
“I need you so much,” Dominic was whispering, and he gently pressed her to bend across his kitchen table. Cassie knew what was going to happen and she craved it. Dominic pushed down his own jeans to free his erection before the hardness killed him.
He was tender as he pushed into Cassie from behind, holding her around her breasts so that she was not pushed hard against the polished wood. He slid into her and thrust deep wanting her to come again as she sighed with the pleasure of his hands on her breasts, her hips, and the way he filled her.
Dominic was in love with her, but she ignited a sexual need in him that drove him to thrust hard, and he let go of her breasts to bring his fingers to her bud at the same time as he thrust into her. Cassie couldn’t breathe as she came and gasped his name. “Dominic.”
He knew she was coming again because she instinctively pressed her delicious bottom up to his thrusts so that he drove onto her bud and made it last longer. He held her hips as he felt his orgasm start and then it overtook him with an intensity he had not expected. He was pumping into her and moved his hands to hold her stomach to keep her in place, and then he almost collapsed onto her as he leaned down to kiss her face where she had turned it to receive a kiss.
Dominic couldn’t move and stayed there holding Cassie tenderly for a few moments and then he slowly withdrew from her, helped her up, and turned her to kiss her lips.
Cassie kissed him, her arms around his waist, and whispered to him. “Dominic.” Just his name and it sent waves of sexual feeling over him.
He wanted to tell her he loved her, and how he hoped almost desperately that she loved him, but instead he said, “Cassie come to bed and let me hold you close.”
They both had to pull their jeans up to walk and Cassie found that funny. She laughed a little, and Dominic smiled as unable to help himself he kissed her again.

Instant Attraction by Tory Richards

Instant Attraction
Release date – 3/11/13

InstantAttractionSizedBlurb –Thomas is a motorcycle cop, new to the rural area. He needed a change from the hectic big city, and the pressures of being on the swat team. A little more peace and quiet to reflect on what he wants in life, and maybe find someone to share it with along the way. He never expected to find his perfect match in the form of one sexy little animal activist. From the moment they meet their attraction is hot and out of control.

Julie is an animal lover and works at a no kill shelter. Living next door to the new cop in the area, she’s asked by the small town hall to welcome him to the neighbourhood. When she meets Thomas for the very first time instant attraction causes the sparks to fly. And they can’t keep their hands off each other. The hot anywhere, anytime sex is great but they both want more. Can instant attraction turn into love?

*   *   *

Excerpt –
Julie was almost home when the sky opened up and released a torrent of rain, so thick it was blinding. She tapped on the brakes and slowed her PT Cruiser down. The winding road to her place was crudely paved, like a lot of country roads in the area. The shoulder of the road was nothing but a river of mud sliding over the slight embankment down into the retention ponds on both sides. She was aware that if she drifted over the line in these conditions she could easily end up in the water. She’d seen it happen before.
Arriving at the last sharp corner before her house, she slowed even more. A large oak tree growing too close to the road provided a blind spot. She didn’t want to take any chances that someone wasn’t coming from the other direction, driving down the middle of the road to avoid the excess water. Just as she turned the corner a dark, blurry something in the road caused her to slam on the brakes.
“Holy crap!” Her car skidded to a halt. She hadn’t felt any thump and knew she had managed to stop in time. Thoughts of Harriet, the old pond turtle, immediately came to mind. She’d been around for as long as Julie could remember, and was often seen crossing the road from one pond to the other.
Julie sat there for a moment and watched the rain splash against her windshield. At least her car was getting a good wash. She scooted up and tried to see over the hood but the rain impeded her vision. And her windows were fogging quickly. The only thing left to do was wait and give Harriet time to cross the street.
A flash in her rear-view mirror drew her attention. The light coming down the road indicated someone was moving up behind her. The fact that it was a single light confirmed it was a motorcycle, and it had to be her hunky new neighbour, the cop. He’d moved in a couple of weeks before. Julie hadn’t had the chance to take him a welcome basket yet, so the only thing she knew about him was that his name was Thomas Reevers. As he got closer, she realised he might try to go around her.
“Dang it!” Julie became concerned about Harriet. She couldn’t just sit there and let her get run over. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to rescue her in perilous conditions.
She quickly opened her door and got out. She was drenched before she’d even shut the door. Turning, she held her hand out and screamed, “Stop! Stop!” She couldn’t see who it was behind the visor, but her message got across because he slowed to a gradual stop. Julie rushed to the front of the car and glanced down. Harriet was moving like a snail, oblivious to the danger she was in.
Julie picked her up and slowly walked across the road with the intention of putting her down on the shoulder, and nudging her in the direction of the pond. As soon as she stepped onto the somewhat slimy shoulder she went down hard, releasing a high-pitched scream and just managing to hold on to Harriet. Landing on her back, Julie felt mud and water soak through her clothes. With the wind knocked out of her, she set the turtle down and remained where she was until she could catch her breath.
“Are you all right?”
She glanced straight up to see the motorcycle rider standing over her. It was hard to tell from her position, but he appeared tall and well-built. His jeans were soaked, revealing thick thighs. His brown, bomber-style leather jacket glistened and looked old. His black helmet hid his features from the neck up.

*   *   *

bio pic-1Author Bio –
Tory Richards is a grandma who likes to read and write smut, otherwise known as erotic romance. She’s also a daughter, mother, sister, aunt, friend and author. Retired from Disney, and after her soul mate of seventeen years passed away, she moved in with her daughter and her family. She shares her woman-cave with four cats whose main goal in life is to get as much cat hair onto everything that they can. They’re doing a fabulous job!

For as long as Tory can remember she’s wanted to be a writer. But she didn’t actively pursue getting published until her family encouraged her. Just to get them off her back she submitted Cupid’s Arrow, written under her real name Debbie Wallace, to Whiskey Creek Press and that book was on the publisher’s best sellers list for two consecutive months! After that there was no looking back. Tory’s publishers are Ellora’s Cave, Total-E-Bound, Whiskey Creek Press Torrid, The Wild Rose Press, and Liquid Silver Books.

Today Tory spends her free time between family and writing. She has two books coming out this month. Information about them is below. And a third, Surrender to Desire, coming out on 4/15 at Smashwords. She also likes hearing from readers. You can reach her at: tory.richards@yahoo.com

Instant Attraction can be purchased from:

Total E-Bound   *   Amazon

Tory Richards can be found:

Website   *   Amazon Page   *   Smashwords   *   Twitter

Facebook   *   Romance Novel Center   *   Manic Readers


Yield to Me by Tory Richards

Yield to Me
Release date – 3/15/13
Whiskey Creek Press Torrid

YieldToMeSizedBlurb –

Most women look forward to their wedding day. But not Senator Adams daughter, Sophie. She was being blackmailed into marrying a man she detests, in order to keep a family secret from being revealed. So when she finds herself in the arms of a sexy kidnapper on the eve before the nuptials, she looks at it as a godsend. Until she realizes that her abductors every touch sets her on fire.

Brent was preparing for a long over do vacation on his boat when the senator talks him into kidnapping his only daughter. It would be a piece of cake, he was told. The woman in question was a sweet, southern belle. So why, then, does he suddenly find himself with a hellion on his hands? One who arouses him without trying, and knows how to keep him satisfied. He falls for her, but they can only have a future if she admits the truth.

*   *   *

Excerpt –

Brent opened the door quietly, standing in the threshold for a moment observing Sophie, so engrossed in her own deep thoughts that she hadn’t heard him enter. Her arms were crossed beneath her breasts, emphasizing their fullness. His glance traveled over her lithe form taking in the way his shirt had ridden up her shapely thighs. She’d obviously helped herself to another one, and this one was buttoned all the way.

The soft cloud of hair around her face and shoulders had a little more curl to it, indicating she must have showered. The sun was upon it, turning it a darker, richer shade of auburn. Even disheveled she was still the sexiest thing he’d seen in a long while. It had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, not giving in to the need to fuck her that morning.

As if sensing he was there, she turned her head slightly, their stares locking instantly. When Brent saw the tear tracks staining her cheeks he cursed inwardly, clenching his teeth until his jaw hurt. She must be terrified about everything happening to her. The urge to tell her the truth was so strong at that moment that he knew the smartest thing he could do was drop her breakfast off and beat a fast retreat. He slammed the door behind him, taking quick steps to the small table next to the window where she was standing.

“Breakfast,” he said simply, his tone less than friendly.

She hastily brushed the betraying moisture off her cheeks, quietly watching as he moved closer. Her gaze barely skimmed over the tray in his hands before wandering past him to the door. He could almost see the wheels turning inside her head as she weighed her chances for escape. Brent couldn’t fault her for having a one-track mind because he’d do the same thing.

“Don’t even try it,” he warned, meeting the contemplation in her serious eyes. “I brought you a nice breakfast.” Well, as nice as could be expected with two men in the kitchen. He hadn’t remained a bachelor all this time and not learned a few domestic skills of survival.

Her gaze dropped to the food, her brows lifting with mild surprise at the eggs Benedict and bowl of fresh fruit. Real pleasure spread across her face when she spotted the cup of steaming coffee. “Thank you, you’re too kind.” The cool tone of her voice made a mockery out of the pleasure he saw in her eyes.

“We aim to please,” Brent returned, his firm mouth turning up at the corners. There was no disguising the sound of hunger rolling in her belly. As he started to set the tray down she made her move, which he’d been expecting. “Sophie!” He slammed the tray down, everything on top rattling with his impatience.

The bark of his anger only encouraged her to quicken her pace. She was almost at the door. What am I going to have to do, lock her in the closet, gagged and tied? “Damn it!” he bellowed, taking off after her.

*   *   *

bio pic-1Author Bio –
Tory Richards is a grandma who likes to read and write smut, otherwise known as erotic romance. She’s also a daughter, mother, sister, aunt, friend and author. Retired from Disney, and after her soul mate of seventeen years passed away, she moved in with her daughter and her family. She shares her woman-cave with four cats whose main goal in life is to get as much cat hair onto everything that they can. They’re doing a fabulous job!

For as long as Tory can remember she’s wanted to be a writer. But she didn’t actively pursue getting published until her family encouraged her. Just to get them off her back she submitted Cupid’s Arrow, written under her real name Debbie Wallace, to Whiskey Creek Press and that book was on the publisher’s best sellers list for two consecutive months! After that there was no looking back. Tory’s publishers are Ellora’s Cave, Total-E-Bound, Whiskey Creek Press Torrid, The Wild Rose Press, and Liquid Silver Books.

Today Tory spends her free time between family and writing. She has two books coming out this month. Information about them is below. And a third, Surrender to Desire, coming out on 4/15 at Smashwords. She also likes hearing from readers. You can reach her at: tory.richards@yahoo.com

Yield To Me can be purchased at: Whiskey Creek Press 

Tory can be found:

Website   *   Amazon Page   *   Smashwords   *   Twitter

Facebook   *   Romance Novel Center   *   Manic Readers

Asteria – In Love With The Prince by Tanya Korval


His Lover
UN translator Lucy Snow sneaks into an embassy party and meets Prince Jagor, heir to the throne of the fabulously rich kingdom of Asteria. Their initial steamy kiss isn’t enough for the prince: he offers her a job as his personal aide and in the glamorous hotels and casinos of Monaco, they engage in a secret love affair.

His Slave
But in Asteria, women are ‘owned’ by their men, both in and out of the bedroom. Loving Jagor will mean accepting his collar…and his every command.

His Princess
Lucy must overcome the queen, the media and the will of the Asterian people if she’s to be accepted as Jagor’s bride. And when the royal family is plunged into danger, Lucy must become stronger than she ever dreamed…

*   *   *


A long, lazy afternoon passed that way, with the only interruptions the occasional drone of an aircraft and quick trips downstairs to grab a cold drink. I showered and changed in time for Jagor arriving home, throwing on one of the dresses Patricia had brought: a halter-neck grey number that finished just above the knee. When Jagor walked in, I ran up and threw my arms around him, letting him lift me off the ground and spin me around. It was the most relaxed I’d been since before we broke up. I may have whooped.

“You’ve unwound,” he smiled. “Good.” He pulled me close, my body molding to his. “Come.”

He said a quick goodbye to the retinue and closed the door on them, then pulled me towards the bedroom.

“Right now?” I said, a little taken aback.

“Right now.” He closed the door behind us. The bed was emperor size, an ornate iron frame with luxuriant gray and black bedding. He picked me up like a doll and threw me, taking my breath away, and I sprawled on the luxuriant softness, gasping. He yanked his tie off and hurled it aside, his eyes never leaving mine. I could feel the raw lust radiating off him, the urgency to be naked with me, and a hot thrill spiked straight down to my groin. He tore his jacket off and hurled it aside. I could see his chest heaving under his shirt as he fumbled with the buttons at the neck, growing frustrated. Suddenly he ripped, buttons flying, and then he was yanking it down his arms and throwing it to the floor.

I was half-sitting against the pillows. He grabbed one ankle and pulled, and I slid down the bed towards him with a delighted squeal. Then he was on top of me, bare-chested and almost growling, hunkering down to devour me. His lips found mine, one of those hot, hungry kisses where you’re panting into it.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he murmured. His hands were gathering the hem of my dress, lifting the skirt up my legs. He wrenched it up my body and I arched my back to help him. My body still felt sun-kissed and warm; the dress was a needless distraction and when he pulled it over my head it was almost a relief. How different from when we’d met, when stripping off had seemed shocking. I don’t think I’m a librarian anymore, went through my head.

He didn’t pull the dress all the way off, though. He left it bunched around my wrists, and then he twisted it, so that the fabric bound my arms together above my head. He smiled down at me, one huge hand planted firmly on the bundle of cloth. I tugged experimentally with my wrists. I was held fast. I looked meaningfully up at my bonds and then at him.

“We will improvise, for now,” he told me. “When we get home, I have more suitable things.”

“More suitable?” I was almost panting.

“More suitable to restrain a slave.” He grinned.

“I’m not your slave yet,” I protested. I was starting to learn that I liked to protest. The safeword ring made a lot of sense to me, now.

He reached under me with one hand and unfastened my bra, then lazily flicked the loose cups up so my breasts were bare. “You will be, Lucy,” he told me.

He lowered his head, his tongue flicking out to lap at my breasts. It felt like they’d absorbed the heat of the sun and swelled, until they were groaning and aching for him. Each touch of his tongue sent a new stream of pleasure rippling down through me: they linked and joined, forming a river. I writhed arched on the bed, trying to get my nipple under his mouth, but he moved with me. The breast he was focusing on grew shiny with his licking, an island in the center cruelly untouched. Then he started to do the same with the other breast. “Please!” I begged, figuring that was what he wanted.

He lifted his head for a moment and smiled at me, his eyes gleaming. Then he returned to his ministrations, leaving me to groan and grind my ass against the bed in frustration. I could feel the heat rising inside me, but he wouldn’t let it rise to that magic point I longed for. Long minutes passed, his tongue sometimes soft as silk, sometimes as firm as fingers, until I was moaning and thrashing my head. Then, at last, he tongued my nipples, watching me carefully. I gasped, my head coming up off the bed, gritting my teeth, ready to—

He stopped. Then with his free hand, he pinched that super-sensitive, slickened nipple and my moans grew shrill, the pleasure somehow turning to pain and then back again, hovering on the edge—

He stopped again, and now my whole body was throbbing, as if he’d locked in my arousal, leaving me a panting, raging mess. He used his free hand to push my panties down, leaving them midway down my thighs. He ran his hand down my body, from my cheek to my breasts, my thighs, my sex. He cupped me there, using his hand to open my thighs, and then plunged two fingers inside me.

“You’re wet,” he told me. “I want to fuck you right now….”


‘…But not yet, I think.”

He twitched his fingers, just a tiny movement, and I nearly came, right there. He smiled at my helplessness and looked around the room for a moment. “I’m concerned that you may become noisy,” he told me. “Not that the guards would come in, but it’s not fitting for an exkella to be heard screaming.” He retrieved something from the floor with his foot and then grabbed it when it was close enough. His tie. He straddled me, his weight pinning me to the bed, and released my hands. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I assumed he was going to use the tie to bind me. Okay, I could go for that.

He finished and lifted himself off me again, his biceps flexing in a way that stirred something dark in me. The knowledge that he was stronger than me: not just a bit, but hopelessly outclassing me, that I was helpless in his grasp….

He showed me what he’d done. He’d tied a fat knot in the middle of the tie. “Open your mouth,” he told me. I blinked up at him for a second, not understanding, but opened wide.

The tie slid into my mouth, the knot filling it and pressing my tongue down. He pulled the ends behind my head and tied them tight. “What? What are you—” I asked. Only it didn’t come out like that. It came out as a muffled, garbled mess. He’d gagged me.

I fingered the safeword ring.

“Now,” he smiled, and with one hand pinning my wrists to the bed again, he slid so that he was lying alongside me, so that he could gaze down the length of my naked body.

His hand cupped my sex again and I gasped and closed my thighs instinctively. As he thrust two fingers into me again, the edges of his hand rubbed on my legs, deliciously hard against my soft skin. “Mmmf!” I moaned, my head going back.

He set up a rhythm with his fingers, stroking in and out of my tightness. Red spirals of fire twisted up my body, making me grind and writhe: I wanted to grab his hand and pull it deeper, to move it faster, to be in control. My wrists yanked against the fabric holding them, and I wasn’t just playing, but the thick twists of cloth were perfect: soft enough not to hurt, tight enough to hold me fast. His hand, pinning the fabric to the bed, might as well have been a steel girder. I’d never understood bondage before. Even that night in Monaco when he’d tied me to the stool, I’d thought it was about stopping me from escaping. It wasn’t – or at least, not this time. It wasn’t to restrain me while he did something I didn’t want. It was to restrain me while he did something I wanted too much.

His fingers moved faster…but deliberately just a little slower than my body craved. My eyes rolled back in my head, my eyelids fluttering. I could only wait and hope that he’d take me over the edge, and in the meantime hang on for the ride.

At first, I stayed silent: I had it in my head that the gag was to remind me to be quiet. After a few minutes of teasing, I couldn’t help it: I tried to beg him – please let me come. The garbled moan made him smile: but more than that, it felt good. I’d found I could breathe easily enough around the gag, the knot soft and springy enough to fill my mouth when I let it but not to block my air. I could feel myself panting hotly around it, and as his thrusts started to pick up speed I started to groan, to beg, to plead, and eventually to curse. Every shout was a release: it kept the tension from becoming too much. It wasn’t about keeping me quiet: it was about leaving me free to scream.

When I was a bucking, twisting wreck, he gently slid his fingers from me and I relaxed, thinking it was over. He moved up to my hands and I closed my eyes, thinking he was going to release them.

The soft whistle of his belt sliding through the loops. Then a jerk on the cloth around my hands, and my arms were pulled straight up above my head. When I heard him walk away, I looked up at my hands, confused.

He’d used his belt to tie my dress to the iron bed frame. The leather cinched the fabric tight, holding my wrists just as firmly as before: but now he had his hands free.

He wasn’t done, though. He pulled my panties the rest of the way off and threw them aside. He pulled one leg out diagonally so that my ankle touched the iron bedpost. He shucked off his pants, passed one cuff through the iron frame and around my ankle and tied it tight. I watched as he pulled my other leg far apart, spreading me wide, and used the other pant cuff to tie my other ankle, leaving no slack. I was stretched out, arms straight above my head and legs open, like an upside-down “Y’.

I stared at him as he took off his jockey shorts, his cock already erect. He didn’t come back to the bed. He just stood there, naked, and watched me. I could feel his eyes roving over my nude, bound body, even as I gazed at his naked form. The sun was setting, bathing the room in a deep orange glow and leaving dark pools of shadow. I could see him breathing, the curves of his hairless chest flexing as he watched me.

I was helpless on the bed. This man was going to take me.

My gaze roamed over his shoulders, so wide and solid compared to mine. Down over his muscled arms, the forearms traced by veins. His torso was lean, tight with power. I knew how it would feel, when he thrust into me, when he used that power to root himself within me. And then as my eyes sank lower, I saw he was holding himself, stroking his erection as he watched me.

It’s like he’s already enjoying me, I thought. The conqueror, gazing on the captured maiden before he ravishes her. This man will take me, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

I watched him swell and grow, watched the effect my body had on him. I tugged at my bonds, wanting him now, but that was the point: he was going to enjoy me as he wanted.

He must have made me wait, thrashing and twisting, for several minutes, until my body ached for his touch. He stepped closer, his cock straining upwards, every muscle in his body hard as rock, and rolled on the condom. He climbed onto the bed between my thighs and I waited for him to enter me, feeling the emptiness like a physical pain. But he placed his hands on my thighs…and lowered his head between them.

GOD! My back arched off the bed as his tongue caressed my inner thigh: circling inwards, unstoppable, towards my core. After so long without touch, every sensation was hyper-acute. I let out a long moan, muffled by the gag.

He stopped and spoke, without lifting his head, so that the words themselves touched my aching, desperate sex like a phantom caress. “You know what I’m going to do now, Lucy,” he told me.

Yes, yes! I thought wildly.

“But you need to learn that even as an exkella, you come when I say so.”

Was he serious? If he licked me there I was going to come instantly.

“You’re going to hold yourself back. You are not to come until I tell you. Do you understand?” He lifted his head to look at me. I craned my head up and stared into those dark green eyes that promised so much pleasure…if I played by his rules. I nodded.

He began.

I’d thought it was sweet agony before, but it had been nothing compared to this. His expert tongue traced my lips then dived inside, parting me, and I felt the wave of pleasure rushing over me, threatening to tip me over the edge. I strained and panted, a sweat breaking out across my body, leaving me gleaming. He was licking me steadily, the pleasure stacking up behind the dam I’d built. I thrashed and groaned and tossed my head, my hair sticking wetly to my forehead; had to, to release the pressure inside me. But even with that safety valve, I knew I couldn’t last; I was being pushed, inch by inch, towards the edge, towards a climax like I’d never known.

His tongue thrust and drove and when his fingers joined it, circling my throbbing bud, my whole body went tense. I didn’t dare move; I was like a violin string, stretched tighter, tighter, my nails digging into my palms, my wrists and ankles wrenching at their bonds….

He lifted himself and in one smooth movement moved up my body, guiding himself into me with one hand while the other tangled in my hair. “Come,” he said simply, and thrust deep inside me.

My world exploded.

A deep shudder went up my body from my groin to my head, the feel of him entering me reverberating through me. My wrists yanked hard against the cloth, my body spasming under him as the climax robbed me of speech: I couldn’t even moan. I felt his lips on mine, sweet with my juices, the silk tie pressing into my mouth in a way that made me melt.

I am his slave to control

I am his slave

I am his

I felt my heels banging on the bed: I hadn’t even been aware of my legs trying to kick. I couldn’t think. I was lost in dark, throbbing pleasure and I kissed him as if his lips were the only link back to sanity.

I flopped on the bed as the orgasm rolled away like a thundercloud. It had never, ever been like that before. He waited until he was sure I was back with him; then he started to move. Slow, glorious thrusts like ocean waves, the pleasure rolling over me. If I’d been able to, I would have wrapped my legs around him, urged him on, pressed myself hard against him. But he was in control: I had to wait and accept the pace he set, and that made it…exquisite.

His naked body was like a machine above me, hulking and powerful, driving into me again and again, muscles bunching and flexing, his lips on my mouth, my ear, my shoulder. I gasped and moaned and eventually cried out through the gag as a second orgasm washed over me. Seconds later, he was pumping almost savagely into me as he came as well.

There was a moment when we just stared at each other: him still atop me, taking his weight on his elbows, me gazing up at him, the gag still in my mouth. He’d rarely been so open to me, so clearly readable, as in that second: not since he’d told me about his brother. I could see the love he had for me, and it made me ache with the need to wrap my arms around him.

He could see it in my eyes, too. His fingers worked at the back of my head, then the gag was out of my mouth and we were kissing, soft and gentle: I’m here for you. I could feel him loosening the belt above my head and as soon as it was free, I pulled the dress off my wrists and hugged him.

The room was almost dark now, the sun just disappearing below the horizon. We didn’t mind: it was comfortable, cuddling in the darkness. I was so intent on holding him, when he went to move away I clung to him, panicked.

“I have to untie your legs,” he told me gently, and I flushed. He massaged my ankles and then spooned me, his huge, hard body pressed tight against mine.

“I love you,” he said, and the shock of hearing it made me worry that I’d imagined it.

“I love you too.” I nestled even closer against him.

“Do you still want this?” There was that note in his voice that I remembered from the limo, all that time ago. That hint of vulnerability, the concern that I might not.

I looked down at my sweat-soaked, still-trembling body. “You have to ask?”

“Not just the sex. Being owned. Are you sure?”

I tried to ask myself the question honestly. It wasn’t so long ago that I’d been horrified by the idea of slaves: the notion of giving myself to someone, becoming theirs: it would have seemed crazy even a month before. But as I dug deep within myself, feeling for the truth, there wasn’t even any uncertainty. It was all about the person, I realized. In Jagor, I’d found someone I wanted to be with forever: I knew he’d never hurt me, knew he’d love and care for me. I wanted to commit to him, but it was more than that. There was something missing, deep inside me, something that maybe had always been missing without me being aware of it. When I was with him – and when I wore his collar – I was complete. I didn’t just want to be owned by him. I needed to be.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m sure.”

*   *   *

Tanya_Blog_and_web_200x300I live in London, in one part of what was once a rather nice Victorian townhouse.

Things I like:

Coffee, both making it myself and discovering new places to drink it in London

Alcohol – wait, that makes me sound like an alcoholic.  I don’t like ‘alcohol’, I like ‘certain drinks that happen to contain alcohol’.  Especially red wine.   I have a thing for small, dark bars lit by candlelight where there’s live music and you can sit in the shadows with a glass of something warm and mellow.
Sex, which I write about sometimes.

Tanya can be found:

Blog   *   Twitter  

Asteria – In Love With The Prince can be purchased:

Amazon.com   *   Amazon.co.uk   *   B&N  

Kobo   *   AllRomance

Cradle of Dreams by Keta Diablo

CradleofDreamsSized*Warnings: explicit language and sex, including anal sex
With visions of battle still fresh in his mind, Roane Bradfield returns home to find the woman he loves betrothed to another. He corners Kendrick Moreland at Dowager Huggins’ Grand Ball and whisks her into the secluded library. One way or the other, he will know the reason the duplicitous beauty cut him from her life when she promised to wait forever.
*   *   *


By all that was holy, Roane Bradfield appeared within Kendrick’s line of vision. Her Roane Bradfield. Dear God, it wasn’t possible, couldn’t be him. Her stomach fell, and the room spun. How she had mourned his death, cried a million tears when his name appeared in the Savannah Republican: Roane Bradfield, Killed in Action, Battle of Petersburg. At the time, the words had blurred on the page and waves of grief brought her to her knees.

It had taken her weeks to drag herself from bed every morning, months to come to terms with his death. Had she ever really come to terms with it or had she merely put one foot in front of the other and stumbled through life a phantom specter? She knew only one thing at the time–if she lived to be one hundred she would never again love a man like she loved Roane Bradfield.

Beside her, Pitt’s back stiffened, and below her trembling hand his arm tensed. So many times she had imagined Roane Bradfield cutting through the masses toward her, but this was no illusion. Beneath the bright chandelier, his midnight hair glistened, and even from this distance, a palpable hunger burned in his eyes. Something else burned too . . . anger.

The crowd parted and onward he came, all sinewy muscle and dark beauty–broad shoulders, narrow waist and long, muscled legs. And depthless ebony eyes. She should have known someone as vibrant and alive as Roane couldn’t die. Beneath her gown, her legs gave way and every joint in her body went boneless.

“Good, God, look who’s risen from the dead?” her fiancé said.

“Pitt, please, how can you say such a thing?” Kendick’s knees shook and she felt faint. She didn’t have the facts, but truly, Roane had risen from the dead. For a flash of a second, her heart overflowed with joy, and then she saw the look on her former love’s face. Unadulterated vengeance. He came to settle a score.

Roane stood before them, his bronzed hand reaching for hers. “Kendrick, lovely to see you again, darling.”

Sparks flared and a jolt of lightning pedaled through her veins when he brought her fingers to his lips. “Roane . . . we-we heard you were―”

“Yes, so the Dowager informs me. You thought me dead. Well, you can see I’m here in the flesh, and quite alive.”

“See here, Bradfield,” Pitt said, his voice cracking amid the undercurrents. “Kendrick is betrothed to me now. I hardly think you should address her as darling or any other endearment.”

Roane paused, his rakish gaze assessing her head to toe before he turned to Pitt. “Be a good chap, Fleming, and refresh my drink.”

With Roane’s fluted glass touching the fabric of Pitt’s waistband, her betrothed floundered for words. “I don’t believe I should abandon my fiancé in light of the―”

Roane visibly blanched at the word fiancé. “I assure you, Pitt,” he replied, his tone glacial, “Miss Moreland is in no danger while an enormous crowd looks on. In any event, I believe we have something to discuss, do we not, Kendrick?”

Roane knew her better than she knew herself. Her initial joy at seeing the decadent man gave way to rage. Heat traveled the length of her neck and scalded her cheeks. How he enjoyed making her blush . . . and cringe. She had never been able to hide her true feelings from him. By his arrogant smirk, he knew he still held the power to decipher them.

God curse the man. Only Roane Bradfield would dramatize his sudden return to life in front of an assembly of onlookers. The last thing she expected to encounter tonight was Roane in the flesh, and yet elation and an undeniable series of shivers coursed through her.

And fear.

Dear Lord, help her. The man would make her regret her actions during his absence. Roane would never believe she thought him dead, would never accept her admission she agreed to marry Pitt only when everyone in Savannah, including her, thought him lost forever. The cock-sure man would remain calm and collective while she stumbled with ineffectual explanations. If only he would stop looking at her as if he could see through her gown.

*   *   *

100+x+125-1Keta’s Bio:
Keta Diablo lives in the Midwest part of the country on six acres of woodland. When she isn’t writing or gardening she loves to commune with nature.
Keta is a multi-published author in both erotic romance and gay fiction. Her latest paranormal novel, Where The Rain Is Made, has been nominated for a Bookie Award by Authors After Dark in the Best e-novel category. Keta’s books have also received numerous Top Pick, Book of the Month, and Recommended Read awards from the top professional review sites.
You can find her on the net at the following places:
Cradle of Dreams can be purchased:

G is for Gigolo by Malia Mallory

ebook, ebooks, advertising, promotion, Amaozn, KDP Select, author, authors, writer, writers, social media, book promotion, book promo, romance, historical romance, contemporary romance, eroticaThe ABCs of Erotica — G is for Gigolo
Candace travels the world and happens to be stopping over in L.A. with one thing on her mind: red hot sex with no strings attached! After losing her husband, this sultry seductress is finally discovering herself. Widowed but wise, and ready for action, Candace knows what she needs and she will take it right now. The old boundaries from her marriage no longer hold her back.

Gavin is a gigolo. Sex with women like Candace is his job. Gavin is about to accompany Candace on a journey down an erotic path she never would have dreamed of.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Author bio

ebook, ebooks, advertising, promotion, Amaozn, KDP Select, author, authors, writer, writers, social media, book promotion, book promo, romance, historical romance, contemporary romance, eroticaMalia 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.

For a free copy of B is for Beach from The ABCs of Erotica, head to her website and sign up for the newsletter.

Connect with Malia Mallory:

Twitter * Facebook * Blog * Web Page

~ ~ ~ ~ ~


“I don’t mean to get personal, and you can tell me if I’m out of line. You were married right?”
“Yes, I was married for very long time. Twenty years. Suffice it to say, I was very young and sheltered when we got married.”

Gavin nodded as if that explained her background.

“He was a good man. A very good man. But we…I guess we neglected the physical side of our relationship. Frankly, it’s not all his fault. I never asked for anything to change.” Candace set her fork down and interlaced her fingers.

“I’m sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have brought it up. I didn’t mean to darken the mood.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m at a stage in my life where I want to explore. I…I did want to before. I just didn’t have the nerve.”

Candace had everything she wanted in her marriage or so she thought. It had been years before the lack of physical intimacy worried her. She simply hadn’t realized she was missing anything. When she’d figured it out, at first, she simply ignored her growing needs. Her marriage had been good in so many ways. Her life had been good in so many ways. But she hadn’t known how to ask for what she wanted or needed and the pattern was set. She had loved her husband. Really loved him. She’d been reluctant to voice her dissatisfaction. Putting it into words would’ve made it too real. If she did that and nothing had changed, what would she do then?

Gavin interrupted her thoughts. “Candace, do you want to move to a more…comfortable environment? The bedroom perhaps? We can always finish eating later.”

“Yes, I think I would like that.” She put her marriage and her husband out of her mind.

Gavin rose from his chair and stepped to stand behind Candace. He placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned in to nibble on her neck. “It’s your move.”
Candace smiled. She stood and smoothed her skirt over her thighs. Without sparing Gavin a glance, she walked into the adjoining bedroom.
Gavin followed her. When he entered, he found Candace at the window, gazing out at the nighttime skyline. He stepped behind her, brushed her hair aside, and kissed her lightly where her neck joined her shoulder. She trembled.
His hands skimmed down her arms to rest on her waist. “I want to make things good for you. Tell me what you want, what you like.”
Gavin’s body heat radiated right through his shirt fabric against her bare back. Candace was chilled and the warmth was irresistible. She pressed closer. “I’m not sure I know what I like. I’m not sure I ever have.”
“Well then, I guess we’ll have to try everything.”

Buy Links for G is for Gigolo
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The Devil Made Me Do It by Amelia James

thedevilmademesizedThe Devil Made Me Do It

Don’t tempt me…. Erin wants her husband to rip her clothes off… literally. Does she dare provoke him? Natalie wants to make love outdoors. Can she convince her shy husband? Melissa wants the bad boy she just met in a bar. Should she or shouldn’t she? And Heather watches from a secret room….

These women and others like them know what they want in bed. But sometimes they have to be a little extra bold to get it. Watch them bring their naughtiest fantasies to life in some very interesting ways.

It wasn’t my idea… the devil made me do it.

This second edition of my couples’ erotica anthology includes four new stories! The Bargain – Her Part; The Bargain – His Part; Under His Kilt; and Sugar and Spice.

Author Bio:

Amelia James started reading steamy romance novels in junior high, but her mom took them away from her, so she started daydreaming instead. After she got married, she wrote some of her naughtier daydreams down and sent them to Playgirl magazine. Two of them got published. She kept daydreaming and writing stories until her dirty stories turned into trashy books.

She lives in Colorado, but she’ll always be a loyal Wisconsin Cheesehead. When she’s not lusting after her next bad boy hero, she looks for inspiration in sci-fi and action movies, football players, bloodsucking lawyers, muscle cars, and kick-butt chicks.

Amelia can be found:

Trashy’s Treasures Blog * Twitter * Facebook

Google + * Goodreads

Buy links:

Amazon * Evolved Publishing



The Bargain – Her Part

“Watch with me for a while and see what comes up.”

“I suppose you think watching porn is foreplay.”

“As much as reading it is.”

She wanted to argue, but she couldn’t deny that reading a descriptive love scene turned her on. “All right. I’ll watch this with you, if you’ll read one of my books with me.”

“Sounds fair. Just make sure you read me the juicy parts. None of the mushy stuff.”

“Agreed. But I want to see some naked men. All this girl stuff is….” She caught her breath as a woman on the screen tugged her own nipples and moaned while another woman licked between her spread legs. “Okay, it’s hot, but I want man flesh, too.” She sat in his lap and rubbed her butt against the ridge in his jeans.

“You got it.” He clicked a couple of links and showed her a gallery of images. “I think you’ll like this one.” He clicked play.

The video started with a man with long, flowing hair and rock-hard muscles dressed as a cowboy tossing bales of hay onto a wagon. “Wow, he’s hot.”

Charlie nibbled her shoulder. “I know what my baby wants.”

A sexy cowgirl wearing microscopic cut-off jeans and a barely-there shirt offered him a drink. He downed it in one gulp, then took the pitcher from her and poured it over her mountainous cleavage. She tried to act offended, but she wasn’t very good at it, and her shirt ended up at her feet. “They’re terrible actors.”

“No one watches porn for the acting, honey.”

“Good point. He’s got a nice body. Wow!”

The cowboy’s pants hit the ground, and the cowgirl dropped to her knees to suck his huge cock. “How can she get that whole thing in her mouth?”

“Mmm… practice?” His hand snaked under her shirt, and her nipple hardened before his fingers even touched it.

He unzipped her jeans and wiggled his fingers into her panties. She squirmed in her husband’s lap, her thighs splayed while he teased her. “I like that.”

“I thought you would.”

“No. I meant I like watching him take his clothes off.”

Charlie laughed softly against her shoulder, making circles on her skin with his tongue. “I can tell.” His fingers slipped on the wet, pulsing nub between her legs, and she moaned.

“Do they always leave their shoes on?”

He blinked at the screen.

The cowgirl had draped her legs over the cowboy’s shoulders, and dug into his back with her boots. He spread her thighs wide and exposed her pink flesh to the camera.

Charlie grunted. “I never noticed.”

The porn star moaned and writhed while her partner licked her pussy. “Oh, here’s where the acting starts,” said Andrea.

“Think so?”

“No one comes that fast.”

“We’ll see.” He pulled her shirt off and massaged her breasts, pinching her nipples between his fingers.

“Mmm… I like that.” She moaned and leaned back into his arms. “You, I mean.”