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Sizzling Heat Wave: Fav Summer Reads

27 May

Hello Lady Smut readers — where are we going? Where have we been?

We’ve been busy publishing! Here are some new reads by our crew past and present that you want to check out for your summer reading:

FEARLESS

fearless cover

Sarah’s life of discipline and rigid control is nearly shattered by two men—one who wishes to submit to her, the other who might break her.

Sarah Marillioux fled back to Washington, DC after a weekend of reckless, delicious, impetuous passion in London with another Dominant, Steffan Vidar. Two years later, Sarah has re-established her life of unerring discipline and control until Steffan reappears to threaten her status quo of relegating all romantic encounters to a dungeon. He’s moved to DC and, with him, is Laurent Chacon, Steffan’s angelic submissive—a mixture of masculine strength and aching vulnerability. Together they will bring her carefully constructed world crashing down around her. It would almost be worth it to have Laurent. The problem is, she’d have to take Steffan, too.  AMAZON, APPLE, BARNES & NOBLE, KOBO

BEST WOMEN’S EROTICA

best women's erotica

In Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 4, award-winning editor Rachel Kramer Bussel has gathered the hottest sexy stories starring outspoken women who daringly pursue love and lust.

You’ll read about a single mom who goes back to college and gets some very hands-on education from her hot professor, an Amish woman tenderly revealing her most intimate desires, and a woman who crafts the man of her dreams. From outsiders who passionately claim their place without apology to women taking the boldest of risks with their hearts and their bodies, these sizzling stories are sure to make your heart pound.

Featuring stories by popular authors including Alyssa Cole, Megan Hart, Tamsen Parker, Sofia Quintero, Suleikha Snyder, and Alessandra Torre, along with a variety newcomers to the genre, these tales will turn you on and stay with you long after you’ve finished.

 

 

 

“A man would have to be dead to not be affected by you.” FREE READ

26 Oct

by Elizabeth SaFleur

In the #MeToo era I’ve often wondered if the alpha male in romance will fall by the wayside, like Jackson Reese, my domineering corporate boardroom hero who loves earning a woman’s submission. [[Dramatic pause.]] Nah. Below is a free read, Jackson, where an alpha male rules. Enjoy!

Jackson Reese doesn’t have time for romantic complications—but Dana makes him an offer he can’t refuse.

Jackson Reese enjoys his freedom, and his normal evening date is a tumbler of scotch. When his colleague, Dana Moore, reveals her nights are emptier than Jackson’s morning liquor bottles, he changes his plans. He knows a submissive in need when he encounters one, and her need runs deeper than he could have imagined.

Warnings: Adult, erotic content (18+ only), NSFW, D/s situation. I also cannot be responsible for the desire to have your garters snapped after reading this little ditty.


Jackson

Jackson Reese cracked the stack of papers in his hands on the conference table, aligning the edges to perfection. Today was a good day. This afternoon his negotiating skills won his environmental law firm a new client—the largest biofuels manufacturing plant in the country.

His opponent, a man in a cheap gray suit, stood and extended his hand. “Pleasure to do business, Mr. Reese.”

“Yes.” He returned his handshake, heartily. His manners would not be undone, even if the man’s weakness provided him with a too-easy victory for his taste. Jackson enjoyed a good fight, and Gray Suit provided none. He reminded himself to take the win, regardless.

The man turned to his colleague, Dana Moore, a tall brunette in an equally concrete-colored suit that did nothing for her pale skin. He never understood why women in Washington felt they had to dress like men.

“A copy of the signed agreement will be sent over later today,” Jackson said.

“Really, Jackson. It’s seven p.m. Don’t you ever stop working?” Dana’s mouth quirked up into a smirk.

“Not really. Sharon will show you out.” His legal secretary held open the conference room door. She knew to hustle them from the premises as quickly as possible. Once negotiations were over, his tolerance for small talk vanished. Besides, he had a date with a bottle of Scotch.

“Buy you a drink?” Gray Suit asked.

“Another time.” He widened the door opening.

“Dana, this way.” The man’s harsh tone toward the woman unnerved him.

After he let the door swing click shut, blessed silence washed away his budding headache. He ran through the meeting in his mind again, replaying his win like a meditation.

Dana’s face kept interrupting his reflection. Why was she even at the meeting? Gray Suit interrupted her whenever she opened her mouth. He rarely ran into sexism these days. It jarred his nerves when he did. Dana was annoying, but she wasn’t stupid. He’d learned that from running into her—repeatedly.

Lately, she showed up at too many places he frequented—charity events, the Kennedy Center, even in line at Starbucks one day. But as the wife of an Ohio state Senator—and a trophy lobbyist of the firm that he’d just secured as a client—he had to be polite.

At least she hadn’t breached his private space, Club Accendos, his secret weekend retreat. Dana Moore tied to a St. Andrews Cross. Now there’s a vision.

He walked to the wall of windows overlooking Pennsylvania Avenue. The September sky has turned purple, and the string of red taillights on the road below signaled rush hour was far from over. Traffic would be bad tonight. Perhaps he’d head over to Accendos and not wait for the weekend. Surely someone would be interested in a little pick-up play—his favorite anecdote to a night otherwise spent alone.

He scratched his five o’clock shadow and engaged in his evening ritual—mentally running through his plans for tomorrow. The day would be filled with back-to-back meetings.

“You drive a hard bargain, Jackson Reese.” Dana’s voice broke through his thoughts and the sacred silence.

He turned and caught a whiff of her Chanel perfume. “Something else I can help you with Mrs. Moore?”

“I’m afraid our negotiations left me a little . . . unsatisfied.”

“Oh?” Here we go. He knew where her teasing was headed. Whenever he ran into Dana, she’d press her cheek against his face in an oh-so-Washington-acceptable, non-kiss. She’d breathe on his neck as if the heat would warm him to attraction. He wondered what flirtatious gesture she’d graduate to tonight.

“Where’s your colleague?”

“With any luck half way down Constitution in a taxi cab. You haven’t answered my texts.” She stood before him before he could move away.

“I don’t look at my phone during meetings. It’s rude.”

“Ah. I knew your silence wasn’t a ‘no.’”

He grasped her hands before they could connect with his chest. “Excuse me. Paperwork awaits.” He placed her hands against her sides.

Before he could sidestep her, she grabbed his crotch. He tensed and chose to stand stock still. “That’s not the best way to get my attention,” he said.

“Oh? What is?” She gently cupped his balls.

He looked down at her hand and peeled her fingers from the front of his trousers. “Tell me, where is your husband, Mrs. Moore?” He emphasized her married title in case she’d forgotten her status.

She pulled her hand away from his grip. “Who cares?” Her smile faded into pure boredom, a look demonstrated by too many Washington wives.

She sat back on the conference room table and crossed her arms. “Tell me, Mister Reese. I’m too forward for you? You only like submissive women, weak, who melt at your feet?

“If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Moore—”

“Don’t call me that. It’s my title. It’s not who I am.”

“That’s a shame. Perhaps you should take on a new title.”

A feline smile stretched across her face. “That’s what I’m trying to do right now.”

“No, you’re trying to fill up your night because you have nothing else to do.”

The sides of her mouth dropped to a flat line. “I have plenty of places I could go.”

He stepped aside and gestured to the door. “Good, because I don’t get involved with married women.”

She lifted her chin and stood. “And if I was single?”

“I would see you as a beautiful, successful woman.”

“You should run for office. Only you could make a compliment sound like a dismissal.”

“I’m a Washington attorney.”

“And a handsome, successful man.” Her hand landed on his chest, stopping his advance toward the door. “I won’t blackmail you if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“The thought never occurred.” Oh, yes, it did. Washington lived off traded favors. He, however, made it a point to never owe anyone anything.

She took a deep breath and steeled her voice. “I know all about you Jackson Reese. You like to make women . . . do things.”

“I don’t make anyone do anything.” He caught her wrists before she could connect with any part of his body again.

Her voice hitched and she smiled. “So strong, Jackson.” She twisted her hands from his grip. “You don’t like to be touched unless you initiate the advance? Isn’t that the game?” She chuffed and stepped back. “Perhaps you’re not man enough for me.” She lifted her chin, a move he particularly hated in women.

She turned slowly. Too slowly. She wanted him to stop her? Too bad.

“Reverse psychology doesn’t work on me, Mrs. Moore,” he said to her back.

She turned sharply. “I told you not to call me that.”

“I do not get involved with married women.”

“I’m not asking for involvement.”

“I don’t have casual sex, either.”

“God, Jackson you sound like a 1950s housewife.” She lowered her voice. “Not at all like the Dominant I expected given your status at Accen—”

“Excuse me?”

She smiled. “Oh, yes, I know all about you and your secret little boy’s club. Come now.” She stepped forward, her hand connecting to his chest—again. “Show me what you got.”

He couldn’t help himself. He laughed.

A muscle twitched in her cheek. “You don’t think you can dominate me, do you?”

“No, I don’t think you can submit to me.”

“Oh, a challenge. But what if I told you I was sincere.” She stepped backward. “I’m interested.”

“I’m not.”

“Please.”

“I don’t believe you. Why are you really here?” Deep interest replaced his curiosity. Information about his secret sexual life was not easily obtained. He’d find out who leaked any information about them. But, first, he had to know her motives.

Was this part of some retaliation for his rebuffs of her advances? No, his ego wasn’t that big. Washington was full of powerful, attractive men.

Blackmail? If Dana knew who he was—and had proof—she could destroy him. She would have offered terms by now. Something else was at play.

Experimenting? It was the only reason he could fathom why someone like Dana Moore would be interested in any power dynamic other than the one she’d already amassed. She was a good-looking woman, still in her prime years, with a successful position, and married to a powerful man. She has to be bored, that’s all.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “Does it matter why?”

“Yes.” He crossed his arms.

“I want to know what it’s like.” Her tone was so sincere, he almost believed her. Almost.

“I don’t get involved with dilettantes,” he said.

A bolt of pain flashed across her face, hard and fast like a crack across a porcelain vase. It was gone as fast as it came, and her smooth mask return to its perfection.

“Mrs. Moore, when you go home tonight, you tell Mister Moore—”

“Please, please, stop calling me that,” she spat.

“Why should I?”

She laughed heartily. “Because my husband isn’t interested in me, Mr. Reese. Nor any woman.” She looked out at the Washington skyline and hissed between her teeth. “It’d be easier if he’d just have damned affairs like everyone else in this town. Of course, he probably is. Just not with anyone I could compete with. Divorce papers are next.”

Jackson crossed his arms. “Why are you telling me such privileged information?”

“So you have one of my secrets like I have one of yours. You like dominating women. My husband doesn’t even see them.”

So Senator Moore was gay? Who cared? Except Jackson learned long ago unsatisfied women were dangerous women. Angry men may start wars. But frustrated women could implode planets. And, Dana looked ready to hit something or someone. Well, it wouldn’t be him.

“Move on then,” he said.

“Oh, we are. We’re legally separated but waiting until after the election for the announcement. You of all people should know a divorce in an election year is an impossibility. He’s barely holding on in the polls. Besides, we make a good team when we’re focused on work.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a team if he’s batting for the competition.”

She laughed again. “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor, Jackson.” Her shoulders dropped and she chewed her lip.  “I want to see what it’s like to be . . . more.”

He grasped her by the shoulders and lurched her closer to him. She gasped as he ran his hands down her back and her sides.

“You think I’m wired.” Honest shock colored her face.

“Yes.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you have trust issues?”

“Everyday. Now tell me the truth.”

“I did. I want to know what it’s like . . . not to experiment. But to be the sole focus of . . . someone. Even temporarily.”

“Go on.”

“I can keep thinking about what I don’t have or act. I need to know what I’m missing.” She shifted on her heels and a flash of vulnerability crossed her face. “Maybe next time I’ll choose someone more . . . compatible.”

Holy shit. Dana was serious.

He stepped backward and looked at his watch. “I’ve got one hour.” He must be half-crazed out of his mind to do anything with this woman. But the enigmatic story of Dana Moore gnawed at his insides. No bars enslaved a man more than the unknown—and Jackson Reese didn’t do mystery. Add the injustice of her situation and Jackson found himself compelled to help her.

She straightened. “One night.”

“One hour.” He grasped her chin and lowered it. “No sex. Nonnegotiable. And you’ll do what I say.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?”

He huffed a half laugh willing to let her indulge in bravado a bit longer. Then he walked over to the conference room door and clicked the lock.

“Dana, what is your maiden name?”

“Strickland. Why?”

“That’s your safeword. I presume you know what that is.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now go to the end of the room.”

“Being punished already?”

“No games, Dana.”

“So serious, Mr. Reese.” She uncharacteristically wobbled a little as she walked. She was scared. Okay, she didn’t like mystery, either. Tough.

“Take off your dress. The color does nothing for you. Drop it on the floor. Yes, Dana, you likely have ten others like it at home,” he said to her incredulous face.

As she shed her god-awful dress, she revealed a beautiful lingerie set, including garter belt and stockings. Unexpected, but welcomed.

“You came prepared,” he said.

Her skin flushed a deep crimson.

“Turn and look at me.”

She pivoted and immediately crossed her arms over her ample breasts captured in a surprisingly feminine bra. White lace. Yes, very nice.

“Don’t hide yourself. Show me what you chose to wear for me.” After she lowered her arms to her side, he cocked his head and looked. Really looked. How could no one admire this woman? Jackson appreciated any woman who kept herself in such fine form as Dana. The mystery deepened.

“Take down your hair.”

After shaking her bun free, her long brunette hair reflected flashes of ambient city lights streaming in from the long wall of windows.

“You should wear your hair down more.”

She huffed. “I’m not sixteen anymore.”

“Thank God.” After clicking off the lights, he shed himself of his jacket. He rolled his shirt sleeves to bare his wrists. He removed his watch. Each movement deliberate and slow. Dana’s face grew more pale with each action.

He had pledged himself to uphold all the laws of safe, sane and consensual play. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t let a little intimidation create the right mood. Dana wanted to try on submission, well, he’d use all means at his disposal to have her feel that loss of control.

He stood at the head of the table and laid his hands on the smooth surface.

“Get on the table. Hands and knees.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”

“That’s the last time you’ll argue with me.”

As she bent over the table, a curtain of chestnut silk fell in her face. One knee and then the other connected with the glass, her stockings easily gliding her into position. Yes, very nice. Without that steely suit and severe hairstyle, Dana was quite the looker. His cock jolted alive for the first time all day.

He walked to where she knelt on the table. His hand slid down the side of her head, silky strands soft under his palm. “You have remarkable hair.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He continued to run her smooth locks through his fingers. She grew more jittery under his touches. “You’re a grown woman with grown-up needs. No need to feel ashamed about enjoying being petted.” A thought flitted across his mind. “Yes, that’s what I’m going to call you. My pet.”

A small sliver of anger flashed in her eyes.

“You can choose to take it as society tells you.” He leaned close to her ear. “Or how I meant it.”

He walked back to the head of the table but remained standing by his chair. Dana faced him on the opposite side, kneeling with her breasts rising in fell in shaky breaths.

“What should I call you?” she asked.

“Titles don’t interest me right now. What does interest me is your fantasy.”

“I don’t—”

“Yes, you do. Given your situation, you have a bank of fantasies you rely on.”

She sighed and gazed out the window. He sighed in return. It was going to be a long night if she continued to indulge in her nerves. She asked for this scenario. Yet he’d have to help her along. “Where does he place his hands on you?”

Her eyes darted to his face. “Everywhere.” She answered without hesitation. Ah, so she did fantasize about someone.

“Specifics, Dana.”

“He grabs my hands and—and pushes my wrists. . .”

“Overhead.”

“Yes.”

Dana Moore dreamt about being overpowered? Hardly a ringing endorsement she cared for submission. Her fantasies could mean she wanted aggressive sex, not loss of control. He knew only one true way to find out.

“Crawl to me. Slowly, pet.”

She hesitated.

“Dana.”

She lowered to her arms and moved forward. In the dim light he caught flashes of a crystal rosette at the center of her bra. She could afford the best after all. He pushed the thought aside that she had no one to admire such finery from his mind and concentrated on the woman before him. Yes, the woman. The thought occurred he’d never considered Dana a woman prior to five minutes ago.

Halfway across the table, she stopped and pulled back up to kneeling. “I feel like an idiot.” Her voice trembled.

“You’re beautiful.” He lowered himself to his chair. “Feel me watching you, Dana. Resume.”

Her hands fell to the table once more. She moved forward, her shoulders growing more rigid with each inch forward. He’d never seen a woman so scared—and that was saying something. The courage it must have taken for her to come to him?  Uncharacteristic guilt hit him square in the chest from his earlier, dismissive behavior. He’d been in Washington too long.

He concentrated on her movements, slow, deliberate, and all because he’d asked. The familiar satisfaction of experiencing submission, even as frail as Dana’s, filled his insides.

“Thank you, Dana.”

She looked up at him. “For what?”

“For you.” He ran a finger over his bottom lip. Time to concentrate—on her. “Can you feel the pull of your garter against the back of your thigh? Perhaps I’ll snap it, leave a nice thin red stripe on that ass you hide all day.”

Her breath hitched.

“Is that what you’d like, my little pet? A good smack on the ass?” He laid both hands on the armrests of his chair, wholly aware of the effect his stance held to someone so exposed.

“Maybe,” she whispered.

“You have to get closer to earn such a reward.”

She looked up him, surprised. Her breathing deepened and her chest flushed a deep pink. When she reached his end of the table, she pulled herself up to kneeling. He laid his hands on her thighs. Yes, she definitely shook—but not from fear. He tucked her hair behind her ear and curled his fingers around the shell of her ear. So, she was serious about this experiment.

“Do you know when a woman is most beautiful?” he asked.

“Twenty-five?”

He laughed. “Only a woman would answer that way. No, when she’s being true to herself.”

“So I should walk around in lingerie with my hair down?”

“You already walk around in lingerie, don’t you?” He cupped her chin and raised her gaze to him. “Next time I see you, you’ll wear your hair loose, too.”

“When will that be?”

“I don’t know. So you’ll have to wear it down for a while. Sit up, legs over the edge.”

After she complied he pulled her forward so she perched on the edge. In his peripheral vision he caught their faint reflections in the windows as night had fallen dark and heavy outside. He turned her face so she could see their images.

He twisted a lock of her hair in his hands. “Yes, remarkable.”

She lifted her hands and placed them on his chest. “One hour. Does anyone get more of you?”

“Rarely.” He pulled her off the table and swiveled her so she faced it. She caught herself with her hands. He palmed her behind and leaned toward the ear. “We should make the most of our time together.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“What you’re doing.” He snapped her garter. A puff of air left her lips. He grasped a handful of her hair and pulled her head back. “More, my pet?” he whispered in her ear.

“Yes.”

He laid a sound spank on her ass. She grunted and lurched more over the table. When she tried to move a lock of hair that had dropped forward, he twisted her arm behind her, gently but firmly. Her mouth dropped open. “You don’t need to do anything. Take it in.” He drank in the sight of her cheeks, reddened from his smack.

“Widen those legs. Good.” He dropped his grip and sank down in his chair. “Show me how you touch yourself.”

Without any more prompting, she drew her hand to the inside of her thigh.

“More,” he said. “Very nice. Leave the panties on. I told you I like your choice.”

She gave him her profile, and he caught a glimmer of gratitude in her eyes. His gut lurched a little at how little he’d done and how much she’d already reacted. Was her life so empty? Likely. Here she stood, lapping up his minor attention like a kitten.

He never understood people who settled for scraps. Of course she agreed to marry Senator Moore—and stay married to him. Besides, who was he kidding? Work in Washington often replaced matters of the heart. Perhaps he knew why people settled after all.

But not tonight.

Her fingers had moved under the elastic of her panties. As she stroked herself under the slip of lace, he kept his eyes on her back, now reddening in desire. Her breath accelerated, and she leaned more forward on one arm. When her head fell back, her long hair nearly touched the crack of her ass.

“Stop.” He grew heartened at her growing confidence but he wasn’t ready for her to come.

Air sputtered between her lips.

“Turn around,” he said. “Give me your fingers.”

She withdrew her hand from her panties and turned to face him. Jackson lifted her fingers to his lips. He fought the urge to suckle the wetness from her fingers, settling for flicking his tongue across one tip. She gasped on contact, and her eyes glazed. He expected no more back talk from Dana—only the reality her desire was winning, which meant he was winning.

He grabbed her waist and placed her back on to the conference table. Then he picked up one of her feet and placed it on his cock, now rock hard and uncaring about her marital status.

“You’re having quite the effect on me.” His brain would win this battle, of course. He’d settle for a cold shower later.  “Lean back,” he said.

After she lowered herself on to the table, he leaned over her. His crotch connected with hers. Her glorious hair spread in all directions around her head, forming a chestnut halo. He leaned down, pressing his hands on either side of her shoulders, keeping himself from leaning too much on her body. He’d make no more contact – a contract he had with himself about who he’d get intimate with and who he would not. Unhappy or not, Dana was married and off limits.

“Put your finger inside yourself.”

He didn’t need to see that she’d complied. He could feel her fingers move. She gasped and arched her back.

“Jackson, please.”

“Keep going,”

“I’m not sure I can.” Her eyes had moistened.

He cracked her hard on the side of her ass. A choked cry released from her throat, and her fingers quickened. Ah.

“That’s not the only place he puts his hands, is it?”

“No.” A tear slipped down her cheek to disappear into her hair.

“Where?”

She drew her free hand to the base of her throat, unable to say the words.

Jackson placed his hand on hers. “Do you trust me?”

She nodded.

He nearly encircled her entire neck with his large hand. She released a long breath, her face relaxing. He tightened his grip around her throat. “Now, Dana. Make yourself come.”

A long cry emitted from her throat as she released. Her mouth opened into an oval, her neck arching into his hand. He knew after tonight, he wouldn’t ever see her as beautiful as she was in that moment again.

Her body lay limp on the glass tabletop as he released his grip around her throat. He pulled her up to sitting and ran his fingers through her hair for some minutes. When her breathing returned to normal, he sat her in his chair and retrieved her dress from across the room. She sat dazed.

“Dana?”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t get embarrassed now.”

“I-I’m not. I’m just . . .” She looked down at her dress, scrunched in her lap. “I don’t want to put this on. Is that silly?”

“Not at all.”

He gave her a glass of water, and they both stared out at the skyline for an hour, unspeaking. When the traffic sounds outside died down to a low hum, she finally spoke. “Weren’t you supposed to beat me or something?”

He laughed. Wait, she’s serious. “No, Dana. I was not supposed to beat you. I was supposed to do what you needed.”

“And that was it?”

“You needed to be seen.”

“That’s not all. Thank you for being . . . affected.”

“A man would have to be dead to not be affected by you.” He turned to face her.

She returned his smile. “I’m not sure what to do next.”

“I do.” He took in a deep breath and pulled a card from his wallet. He handed it to her. “Call me when the ink’s dry on your divorce papers.”

She stared at the card for a long minute and then cocked her head at him.

“And think about what you want. No subtly, Dana. I want specifics.” He still wasn’t convinced Dana had a submissive bone in her body. But he’d help her discover her true proclivities—once divorced. He owed it to her. Her moment of giving herself to him was worth a thousand dates with bottles of Scotch.

She fingered the card. “You’re kind, Jackson Reese.”

“Shhh. Don’t tell anyone.” He winked at her. Jesus, he was flirting? No, he just wanted an unhappy woman to feel better about herself. He had little tolerance for men who mishandled women, and Senator Moore was clearly mishandling his wife if she was reduced to attempted seduction. But what did he know about their marriage? Nothing. And that’s the way he’d keep it.

She sighed. “You sure you couldn’t . . .” Her words stopped when he cupped her cheek.

“Yes, I’m sure. Call me when you’ve decided you are more important than your husband’s career.”

“I think I already have. Now that I have something to look forward to.” She blushed.

“No promises, Dana. And, be very, very sure before you act.” He dropped his hand and stared back at the same skyline. “But when you text me with an image of your signed divorce decree, I’ll answer it.”

~~~The End~~~

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Master Me … If You Dare (Untouchable Excerpt)

15 May

by Elizabeth SaFleur

Not all power in D.C. is wielded by politicians. Wealthy Washington, D.C. corporate attorney and seasoned Dominant, Carson Drake is the master of the romantic pre-emptive strike—until he runs into his PR consultant, London, in a BDSM club where she tests every assumption he’s ever had about love.

~~~Excerpt~~~

Every candle in Carson’s room was lit, over two dozen pillars similar to the ones he’d used in a demonstration he’d given at Club Accendos months ago. The young girls giggled and screamed as their partners dripped hot wax on their bellies and breasts. No one got burned or hurt. The sensation play simply brought out their innate melodrama. He’d been bored to tears. Right now nothing interested him more.

After laying London down on the table, he took a moment to admire the wisps of caramel and chocolate strands by her cheeks, her ponytail dripping over the edge of the table.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No.” She shifted and the plastic crinkled underneath the sheet. “I’m fine.”

Carson freed his belt from her waist. A loud clank when it hit the floor made her startle.

He picked up a bottle of oil and snapped open the top. After filling his palm with the lubricant, he spread it over London’s stomach. He moved to her breasts, kneading and then pinching her raspberry nipples. Her back arched into his hands, and her hands grew white from fisting the sheets by her side.

After attending to her arms and hands, he poured more oil over her pussy. He made sure every hair was coated in the emollient. He wasn’t in the business of giving bikini waxes. Soon her thighs, calves and feet wore an oily sheen illuminated by the candles. She glowed like a marble sculpture—if it wasn’t for her constant wiggling.

“Relax.” He massaged her feet, pulling on each toe and massaging her arch. Finally her hands unclenched their hold on the sheet and splayed open.

He tipped a few teaspoons of melted wax from one of the candles into his hand. “Tell me if this burns.” He spread the warmth over her greased belly.

She inhaled sharply and her hands darted up and then settled back down.

“London?”

“Not burning . . .” He could tell she squeezed her eyes tighter under the blindfold.

The wax grew tacky under his palm. More gasps came from her throat as he dribbled a large drop from the candle onto her arm. Her hands jumped from the sheet only to float back down.

“Shh, feel it.” He grasped her wrist and angled it away from her body. “Palms up. Don’t move.” He picked up two pillar candles, one in each hand. “No matter what, London.”

Carson tipped both candles over her wrist. Her fingers danced as the drippings made contact and she gasped. “Oh!” A wax line formed, the edges pooling on the sheet.

“You are being cuffed to the table with wax. If you break these restraints, I’ll find something stronger.”

She curled her fingers as if she tested the bond.

“Confirm.”

“I-I won’t break them.”

He streamed more wax until she wore a thin manacle on her wrist. The bond barely covered her skin. If she was the submissive he believed, she’d feel it like an iron chain.

“You’re mine tonight,” he said.

She sent her other arm out, away from her body as if ready for the same treatment. Her acceptance of his handling made his groin tighten in anticipation.

He secured the other wrist with a waxy shackle. But her legs would require more than candle drippings. In addition to the soy candles, he’d warmed his largest block of paraffin in a crock pot. If his mother knew what he did with her Christmas gift, she’d lose her final hope of him ever being domesticated.

He dipped a ladle into the wax bath and continued until her ankles wore similar restraints to her wrists. Now cuffed by wax chains, spread wide, he stepped back to admire London’s captivity. A small smile played on her lips, finally relaxed. Finally giving into the inevitable.

Carson picked up a small paintbrush and dipped it into the pot. He painted a thin layer of wax over one nipple. She arched and sighed under the sensation. He then took one of the larger candles, and holding it high, let a long stream flow over her breast. She cried out and flinched. One hand broke through its cuff.

Her forehead furrowed. “I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Of course not.” He chuckled. “That’s the point.”

She returned his laughter, but quickly swallowed it back. “Carson? I won’t do it again.”

He touched her arm. “Of course you won’t.”

After he secured her wrist with more wax, her fingers quivered. Tension in her belly returned, perhaps fighting to lift herself toward him? Her pussy glistened, and not from oil, but from growing arousal. London enjoyed being handled, he thought. He mentally added the sentiment to London’s List.

She balled her fists. The thin shackles didn’t crack. He spilled more melted candle onto her waiting body. A seal formed over her breast from drizzling wax, spiral-fashion.

“This is the only white you should wear.”

He turned to the paraffin wax bath and scooped out a full dipper of the mix. With one long stream, he drew small circles around her other breast. A coiled cap formed over her flesh. She squirmed under the liquid heat, soft moans escaping her lips. More candle drippings formed waxy rivers and tributaries over her belly and her hips. Her skin reddened around the waxy parts from the stimulation and heat.

He traded candles. He’d empty one of its liquid while allowing the others to burn down more, creating their own small pools of melted warmth. Large sections cooled to semi-hardness. Unable to stay motionless any longer, her back arched with each new stream that met her skin. Wax separated and cracked, except for the thin shackles securing her wrists. She balled her fists, as if willing them to stay intact.

By the time he’d moved to her legs, she took in big gulps of air. A light sheen had formed over her upper lip and forehead. He ran one long line of warm melted candlewax down one thigh to her knee.

When he crossed her low belly with a large spill of wax, she squealed. Her hands threatened to dart upward. Her manacles barely held. But she stopped herself from completely freeing her wrists and ankles.

His belly clenched. London, the woman who fought his every move in meetings, argued every word from his mouth, now fought to honor his control. The shields London had erected to deny her desires had begun to fall away.

Now we begin.

~~~~~

AMAZON   AUDIBLE   B&N   Apple   Kobo

 

Sexy Saturday Round Up

4 May

Sexy Saturday Round UpBy Elizabeth Shore

The weekend’s here! A time of binge watching, binge eating, garden puttering, and just about anything else fun you want to jam into these next two days. Certainly the fun should include catching up on our weekly round-up of good reading. So kick back, grab a snack, and enjoy.

Ready to give up on men but don’t know how to replace them? How about with some good ol fish sex.

The Stormy Daniels/Roseanne Barr smackdown! Strap yourself in.

18 movies to watch over and over and over….for the sex scenes.

If you’re feeling a wave of guilt for not wanting to clean your apartment this weekend, here’s why you needn’t have it.

Model Ashley Graham struttin her stuff and looking fabulous in her size-inclusion swimsuit collection.

Publishers Weekly most anticipated spring books are finally coming out. Check out the list of good reads.

DJ Khaled brags that he’s way too awesome to go down on his partner. Why she’s lucky.

Bondage for beginngers.

Is this the end of the road for the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition?

Kid as critic on classic children’s literature. Dare you not to smile.

 

 

 

 

 

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Spanking the Senator by Elizabeth SaFleur

11 Feb

Think Femme Domme might not be your thing? Elizabeth SaFleur promises her alpha male submissives who meet the female Dominants of their dreams are no pushovers. That’s what makes it so much fun, right?

 

About the book:

“No one is regular when it comes to sex.” ~Candor Moore

Secret Service Agent Candor Moore puts her life at risk every day to protect the men and women this country elects to high office. She expects no thanks, would prefer to remain invisible. So when she saves the life of Senator Thomas Kincaid she doesn’t know how to handle his sudden romantic interest in her. Love is messy. Love is unpredictable. Love cannot be controlled. But sex where she can exercise her full Femme Domme nature? Oh, yes.

 

Thomas can’t stop thinking about the beautiful guardian angel who put her body between him and a bullet—the first woman to spark his interest since his wife died. Candor proves to be a hard sell when he asks her out, and even harder to pin down around commitment. Thomas had never considered himself a sexually submissive man, but for his Mistress Angel’s love, he’ll go all in—which proves to be the key to earning her heart.

~~~~~

“Thomas.” Candor tapped her fingernails against her glass and scrutinized the man who sat before her full of hope, good looking, and, quite frankly, ignorant as to what he was getting himself into with her. Why did she find his innocence attractive? Perhaps she had delayed too long in immersing him in her brand of relationship, or non-relationship.

“Yes?” he asked.

“You like the idea of me dominating you.”

He nearly spat out his wine. She handed him his napkin.

“Would you like to find out how much?” she asked.

“Will you come to Montana?” He coughed a little into his napkin.

Negotiator, indeed.

She rested her bare foot on his. He didn’t pull it back as he had at the restaurant.

“I will do more with you. Tonight,” she declared. Oh, that look on his face was priceless.

“Are you getting hard for me, Thomas?” she asked.

His neck flushed but his eyes stayed trained on hers. “Yes.”

She pushed out her chair and held out her hand. “Come with me.” The time for talk and teasing was over.

He looked up at her as if to ask, already? Yes, already, she thought.

She wasn’t going to go away with a man who didn’t understand she had one kind of relationship on her mind, and her preferences would never change. She’d tried a few vanilla dates here and there, even dated a man for six months whose idea of deviant sex was doing it upright in the shower. She’d been bored witless. Thomas, however, fascinated her.

Thomas pushed back his chair and rose. “Can I bring my wine?” He threw her a smile, trying to lighten the mood, which was not his job. She wouldn’t allow him to direct the atmosphere.

As they took the steps, her mind cleared of the day’s events. She tuned into Thomas. She noted his breathing, the way he clutched his wine glass, how his eyes stayed trained forward.

“Don’t be nervous,” she said as soon as they reached the top of the stairs. “You can always say no.”

“Not likely,” he said under his breath.

She turned for his bedroom where she’d napped in a very comfortable king-sized bed draped in soft green, white, and taupe bedding. The tall bedposts begged to be put to good use, and despite being surrounded with classic cherry furniture with brass handles, the room had potential for what she planned. When she woke earlier, she was sure she’d been transported to Colonial Williamsburg. Time to add her flavor to the décor.

He set his wine down on his nightstand. “Candor, it’s been a while.”

“I understand.”

“It’s just if this is an audition . . .”

She smiled, but he looked grim. “No, Thomas.” She ran her palms down both his arms and captured his hands. “Remember, I won’t harm you,” she promised. “If you’d rather—”

“No,” he said quickly. “I want to.”

“Then take off your shirt. From there, I’ll direct your access to my body.”

His eyes darkened with lust. “Access,” he said.

“Yes, consider it like giving you permission.”

He swallowed so hard she saw his Adam’s apple move up and down. If this didn’t work, then there was no reason to torture each other with a trip across the country.

“You game?” she asked.

He nodded. “I’m game.” The words came out in a hoarse whisper, but his fingers moved to his buttons.

She stepped backward to give him room. Plus, she wanted to watch the reveal of his naked body. It wasn’t just men who got off on visual delights. Two buttons undone, and she could tell this man had hidden treasures.

His fingers stilled, and she glanced up at his face.

“Why, Thomas Kincaid, are you shy?”

“No. I just like taking my time.”

“As do I.”

“And I like watching you watch me. It’s like nothing bad can happen when you’re in the room.” The man smirked. “The first time I saw you, I thought a guardian angel stood over me. Silly, huh?”

“Not at all. Consider me your Mistress Angel.” She liked that—the sound of the name and its meaning. She would never let anyone hurt this man. She recognized a feeling of protectiveness toward Thomas, something she hadn’t felt in a while, certainly not about someone she wasn’t paid to protect. Other than Franco, of course.

More buttons released the constriction of fabric across his chest. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, shrugged out of the garment, and hung it over a chair back. His hands grabbed his under shirt and pulled it off over his head—a manly move she’d always adored—to reveal a delightful dusting of hair across his muscled chest, hair that was also peppered with gray and made him look even more masculine. This man pushed more than paper all day.

“Then I noticed your hair,” he said.

She walked to him and put a fingertip over his lips. Politicians made talking an art form, and silence would be one of his greatest challenges. Perhaps she’d gag him later—see if he could take not speaking.

She pushed him so the back of his knees hit the bed and he tumbled backward. He caught himself with his hands but didn’t try to get back up. His chest lay bared with his abs starkly delineated in muscle and a V of hair that trailed beneath his belt buckle.

She ran a fingertip over his stomach ridges. “You’ve been quite physical in your life.”

“Hay bales. Lifted thousands of them in my lifetime. No one who owns a horse ranch gets away without doing work.”

“Okay, then. I’m considering going to Montana with you.”

“Considering—”

His words choked in his throat as soon as she reached his belt buckle.

After ridding him of his belt and dumping it unceremoniously on the floor, she cupped his trapped erection.

“Yes,” she said. “I like to consider all my options.”

After unbuttoning his trousers, she freed a cock she knew would be as magnificent as the man who leaned back on his elbows receiving her handling. She’d felt him before but now was treated to the full visual.

“They do grow you country boys big, don’t they?” she said, marveling at the flesh in her hands.

“Now you’re just flattering me.” His eyes held an astounding confidence. Clearly, her dominance fueled his courage—something she’d rarely seen in a man but which was oh-so-welcomed.

She let go of him and stood upright. Taking three steps back, she slowly lowered herself into a corner wingback chair.

“Thomas, take off the rest of your clothes. Show me what else you’ve got.”

He smiled and rolled his eyes, but God love the man, he rose and did what she asked. The loss of his shirt, trousers, socks and then those tight black briefs confirmed all the high hopes she had for this man.

Some men were just proportioned correctly with well-developed legs, torso, and arms as if they were designed to go with one another. Someone high above definitely designed Thomas Kincaid well—very well. He should have an ego the size of Montana. Instead, he stood before her, nude and comfortable, as if masculinity was in his genes, a man who had embraced the physicality of life from an early age.

Now she’d see how much he got off on being truly, thoroughly dominated.

BUY LINKS for Spanking the Senator

Amazon US    Amazon UK    Amazon CA    Amazon AU      Barnes & Noble     Kobo

 

~~~~~

Elizabeth SaFleur writes contemporary romance that dares to “go there.” Expect alpha males (and females), seductive encounters, and love. Learn more about her steamy and sexy stories by following her on Amazon and Bookbub.

 

Justice Wears A Stiletto

24 Jan

COVER REVEAL!

“No one is regular when it comes to sex.”  ~Candor Moore

Secret Service Agent Candor Moore puts her life at risk every day to protect the men and women this country elects to high office. She expects no thanks, would prefer to remain invisible. So when she saves the life of Senator Thomas Kincaid she doesn’t know how to handle his sudden romantic interest in her. Love is messy. Love is unpredictable. Love cannot be controlled. But sex where she can exercise her full Femme Domme nature? Oh, yes.

Thomas can’t stop thinking about the beautiful guardian angel who put her body between him and a bullet—the first woman to spark his interest since his wife died. Candor proves to be a hard sell when he asks her out, and even harder to pin down around commitment. Thomas had never considered himself a sexually submissive man, but for his Mistress Angel’s love, he’ll go all in—which proves to be the key to earning her heart.

 BUY LINKS for Spanking the Senator

Amazon US   Amazon UK   Amazon CA   Amazon AU   Barnes & Noble  Kobo

About the Justice Series

Washington, D.C. is full of powerful women. Meet the three most formidable. In Elizabeth SaFleur’s Justice series, meet three D.C.-based Femme Dommes—Stella, Candor and Julianna—and the submissive men who get what they need: discipline, love and a larger purpose.

About the Justice Series
About the White House Gets A Spanking, book #1
About Spanking the Senator, book #2

~~~~~

Elizabeth SaFleur writes contemporary romance that dares to “go there.” Expect alpha males (and females), seductive encounters, and love. Learn more about her steamy and sexy stories by following her on Amazon and Bookbub.

Best Women’s Erotica of the Year: Your Complete Collection

11 Dec

by Madeline Iva

Lovely readers: It’s the most wonderful time of the year –No, we’re not talking Xmas, we’re talking theRachel Kramer Bussel’s latest anthology:BEST WOMEN’S EROTICA OF THE YEAR Volume 3!

Rachel will celebrate here on the blog this week by posting two free excerpts:  one from Thien-Kim Lam (who used to blog with us at Lady Smut–Yay Thien-kim!) and the other from Charlotte Stein, whom, as you know, we at Lady Smut lurv lurv lurv.

Did you miss Rachel’s fun blog post about this new collection? Check it out–it’s yummy!  Five Feminist Movements From Best Women’s Erotica of the Year.

I know, I know, now you want the complete collection, don’t you? Here they are — tres chic! Click to buy one set for yourself–and one for a friend. ;> Best Women's Erotica of the year, vol. 3

Best Women's Erotica, Vol 2

Best Women's Erotica of the Year, Vol. 1

 

Dragons DuJour: Shifter Romances Are Having a Dragon-y Moment

28 Nov

By Madeline Iva

We seem to be having a dragon moment in Romance-landia, so let’s take a wee look at three books doing the dragon thing and talk about why someone like me–who may be somewhat like you–finds myself diving into dragons even though I’m usually not into the shifter thing.

DRAGON ACTUALLY (Dragon Kin #1):Dragon Actually

G.A. Aiken’s books have always been highly recommended by my reader pal Donna, who’s all up on the shifter-romance scene. Everyone else in the PNR world knows G.A. Aiken too, of course, and worships at her alter.

Look! A blurb:

It’s not always easy being a female warrior with a nickname like Annwyl the Bloody. Men tend to either cower in fear – a lot – or else salute. It’s true that Annwyl has a knack for decapitating legions of her ruthless brother’s soldiers without pausing for breath. But just once it would be nice to be able to really talk to a man, the way, she can talk to Fearghus the Destroyer.

Too bad that Fearghus is a dragon, of the large, scaly and deadly type. With him, Annwyl feels safe – a far cry from the feelings aroused by the hard-bodied, arrogant knight Fearghus has arranged to help train her for battle. With her days spent fighting a man who fill her with fierce, heady desire, and her nights spent in the company of a magical creature who could smite a village just by exhaling, Annwyl is sure life couldn’t get any stranger. She’s wrong…

Yeah, yeah, yeah. We get it already: Fearghus and the hot knight are the one and the same…no surprises there.  Three things to convince you to try this book if the 1200+ reviews on Goodreads hasn’t…

#1 As one reviewer put it: a bloodthirsty, batshit crazy warrior princesses Yes. My kind of gal. Tods.

#2 Hot semi-nekkid guy on the cover –now that’s *my* kind of fantasy! (Note the semi-nekkid guy on the cover of my own fantasy romance Wicked Apprentice) As readers the semi-nekkid guy seems to offer us the promise of hot sex between the pages.  Indeed there is a lot of hot sex in DRAGON ACTUALLY.

#3 Humor & Fluff = mindless entertainment.  I hope the author doesn’t mind my saying that.  It’s just that these days, I’m all about mindless entertainment.  And I very much appreciate humor in my romances.

But let me put out a hypothesis: I think dragons are a very different from typical shifter romances.  (And by ‘typical’,  I mean wolf-shifter.  I know not from all other kinds of shifters: lions & tigers & bears–oh my!)  See, to be honest—I’m not a real shifter reader.  In fact, I want to say that there are two kinds of paranormal readers out there: wolf-shifter readers and vampire readers. Wolf shifter readers like packs and pack hierarchies. Vampire readers don’t.

Which is not to imply any disrespect to shifter readers at all.  But I wonder if dragon shifter romances are shifter romances that can snag in the rest of us–the vampire gals. Why? We’re talking loners in lairs.  Heroes who are not enmeshed in pissing contests with others for supreme alpha status.  They’re not up to their necks in pack politics–tropes which are fabulous, don’t get me wrong–but aren’t really my thing as a romance reader.

Fire in the Blood

I lurv this cover. Just sayin.

FIRE IN HIS BLOOD (Fireblood Dragon #1):

Sue London turned me on to Ruby Dixon’s Ice Planet Barbarians series. The aliens in that series were massive, blue, and their dicks had some extra features. (!) That series totally hit the entertaining-light n fluffy-sweet spot. Adriana Anders made me aware that Ruby Dixon has created a dragon series set in post-apocalyptic Texas. A much more edgy series–there is a rift in the sky through which dragons from another time/world enter into our world, wreaking havoc upon humanity and the planet, while ordinary people scramble to survive.

Ruby Dixon’s dragons come in different color assortments which designate different things about them (red dragons are females, apparently) but they’re still all about the solitary alone time with the female love-interest.

Our heroine is sent out in very much a ye olde sacrifice-y way.  She’s cast out from the community as dragon bait. But this gal is not your typical shrinking virgin offering. Despite the fact that they can’t understand each other at first, her dragon manages to forge a link of communication with her. And it turns out that the dragon is very sweet, (aside from the dragon mayhem destroying the world stuff, of course…) Unlike Aiken, Dixon makes us wait wait wait for them to knock boots – something that annoyed some readers. Yet for others, the trust-building was well worth the wait.

A Dragon's Destiny

Love this cover too!!!

A DRAGON’S DESTINY (Dragons #1) is a third and completely different take on the whole dragon thing. This series involves time travel and the Viking Gods. Gods like Odin are worried about dragons bringing forth their final downfall. So they want all the dragons destroyed. One of the gods doesn’t agree with this plan.  She gathers up some dragons eggs and hides them like massive easter eggs through different times in history.

Our heroine growing up in our modern age is mastering all kinds of ye olde skills at the same time that she works as a police officer. She is a warrior in training, really, and one with a crappy love life.  She winds up discovering that she’s well neigh unkillable and also a (wait for it!) a dragon.  Skipping through time to fight bad guys, she finds her one true love who is managing his own political hornet’s nest back in the 1520’s.

This is a very different series from the others. Namely:

  1. Female dragon shifter (Nice!)
  2. POC heroine
  3. Viking Gods

As a side note, Glasneck’s series takes an interesting right turn towards another kind of Viking god – Hel.

Having loved Thor:Ragnarok and slavered over slinky Hela—Thor’s evil sister–I really liked the description for book #4 HELLISH in Glasneck’s Dragon series—which is also book #1 in the Hellish series:

Lady Hel, the ruler of Helheim, is cursed for disobeying Odin’s order. Stripped of her position, she’s imprisoned on an ostentatious estate until she is able to find love. Unfortunately, Lady Hel has never had luck or use for love.

Harley Anderson is a seven-year college senior with no idea what to do with his life. So far all he’s come up with is killing time. When his best friend dares him to hop the gate of what’s supposed be a haunted house, he encounters a woman who steals a lot more than his breath. And what she’s offering could give him the future he’s missing.

So check it out my pretties! Click on any of the book covers above to go git you some Dragons.  Let me know in the comments section below if you you buy into my “There only two kinds of PNR romance readers” theory.  If you don’t agree–tell me why not!  🙂

Madeline Iva is the twisted sister you always wish you had.  She’s also the author of the fantasy romance Wicked Apprentice.  Check out her other Lady Smut postsJoin her newsletter or follow her on Facebooktwitter, and Pinterest

Disclosure: Tina Glasneck is an old romance buddy who gave me a free copy of her book to read.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Night Author Laurie Olerich Got Felt Up By A Ghost. True Story.

27 Oct

by Elizabeth SaFleur

Halloween is almost upon us, and what better way to celebrate than to read some ghoulish fantasy or paranormal books? Laurie Olerich is a best-selling author of paranormal romance and erotic romance. Her latest series, Demons After Dark, is hot as Hades, appropos since Hell’s name is evoked many times. Before diving into a writing career, Laurie dedicated 20 years to her country by serving in the United States Air Force. Much of her time was spent around men with guns and cool toys which she says explains her obsession with both.

Laurie stopped by to tell us exactly how she got introduced to the world of angels and demons, including how one very randy ghost attempted to have his way with her.

ELIZABETH SAFLEUR: Welcome Laurie! I’ve been meaning to introduce you to the LadySmut crowd ever since I found out you were a Supernatural fan and wrote super-hot angel and demon stories. In fact, I hear you have a line into the “other world.” Is it true you were once sexually harassed by a ghost at the historic Menger Hotel in San Antonio?

LAURIE OLERICH: Oh, yeah, true story! There’s nothing more annoying than having a randy ghost bouncing on your bed at 3 a.m.

ELIZABETH SAFLEUR: He got “handsy?”

LAURIE OLERICH: Someone was pushing the edge of the mattress like a little kid trying to wake up their mom. I sat straight up and stared angry daggers into the dark, cursing and threatening Casper. Yeah, I know. I probably should’ve been afraid… but, hey, it was the middle of the night and I love my sleep! When it happened a third time, I threw the covers off and yelled, “Either get your ass in bed with me or get the fuck out of my room!”

It left and never came back. In hindsight, it was probably one of the poor little dead kids…

ELIZABETH SAFLEUR: Well, that’s macabre! Is that what gave you the idea for your Demons After Dark series? Not that you have any dead kids in there…more like hot as Hades Demons…

LAURIE OLERICH:  The series is a crossover from my urban fantasy series, the Primani Series—“

ELIZABETH SAFLEUR: Which, by the way, is filled with compelling characters and tons of action, humor, and heart.

LAURIE OLERICH: Yessss! That! Seriously though, I love each of the couples and their stories. But the more I wrote about the demons (the bad guys!), the more I wondered about their motivations, their histories, and what kind of lovers they’d be (that’s where my mind went!).

ELIZABETH SAFLEUR: Perv. You’re our kind of author.

LAURIE OLERICH:  Oh, you have no idea! I’m showing restraint in these books! Anyhow, in the Primani stories, the demons became seducers and were sensual and irresistible. Even though they were the villains, they kinda made my nipples wave hello.

ELIZABETH SAFLEUR: Hi! Oh, sorry…

LAURIE OLERICH: Don’t be! So this new series flips the demons around. Now, they’re the good guys, the irresistibly sexy, crazy, and bold bad boys that are stuck saving Lucifer’s archangel ass.

And, look! A coupon code to get the first Demons After Dark for free.

ELIZABETH SAFLEUR: What is it about those demons?

LAURIE OLERICH: The answer to that isn’t simple. In my world, the demons radiate a dark energy that draws people to them. It’s seductive. It’s lingering. It’s filled with the temptation to taste …

ELIZABETH SAFLEUR: To touch …

LAURIE OLERICH: Uh, huh. And, my heroines aren’t shy. They are curious and open so they dive right in.  An element of mystery and subtle inhuman current surrounds the demons. They’re not evil. They’re not righteous. They don’t bother to lie and tell it like it is. They know what they want and they go for it.

ELIZABETH SAFLEUR: Like, they come at life with both barrels.

LAURIE OLERICH: And, they’re extremely sexual—anything goes. The crazier, the darker, the better. They’re unapologetic about what they want and that’s sexy to me. Think of them as the ultimate alpha male with an insatiable appetite for pleasure and you’ll be drawn to them too!

ELIZABETH SAFLEUR: Did they surprise you with anything?

LAURIE OLERICH: Ha! Of course, they did! Vanek (Ed note: the demon anti-hero in the first Demons After Dark book) turned out to be a lot smarter than I thought—and he showed up with a penchant for bondage. That must’ve come from his work as a Painkiller in Hell where he tied up and tortured dirty souls for a few thousand years.

Another surprise was how multifaceted each of the demons in the series have become. As you read their stories, you really understand how their childhood in Hell shaped them into the demons—now men—they’ve become and the conflict they feel. On one hand they want to clear their names and go home to their families. But on the other hand, they begin to feel human emotions for the women they meet. They discover that the human plane is filled with adventure and fun. They struggle to balance their anger with humor. At the end of the day, they surprised me with their capacity for gentleness.

ELIZABETH SAFLEUR: Your Primani series is quite the saga – anything you can share with us about how that got started?

LAURIE OLERICH: Primani started as a desperate attempt to escape from my boring life. One day I realized I’d hit 40 and still hadn’t found myself! Years earlier, I’d started several writing projects but always got sidetracked. This time, I dove in head first. Where to set it? New York, of course! One of my absolutely favorite places, upstate New York became the setting.  Male characters?  Well, they had to be hot, badass fighters. Oh, and have supernatural powers to keep things interesting. Bingo! Primani! Not quite angels but created by archangels to keep demons under control. I put my military experience to use and decided on an immortal special ops team.

And there had to be at least one woman, so I could live out my own daydreams!

ELIZABETH SAFLEUR: With a guaranteed happy ending…

LAURIE OLERICH: Yes, but because real life is about more than finding true love and having great sex, my characters face devastating losses, painful truths, and choices that tear them apart. Exploring what makes us human is what I enjoy about writing. I love to put my favorite characters into painful situations and then watch how they handle it. Sure, I’m mean to them, but they like it!

ELIZABETH SAFLEUR: Do you think writing about supernatural characters “calls” them to you in real life?

LAURIE OLERICH: I don’t think simply writing about them calls them. However, I don’t mess around with demons. I’ve done a ton of research into demonology and have a very healthy respect for them. I absolutely do not name my fictional demons after “real” or mythological demons. I make up my own names. I’m superstitious about that. I believe you can call dark forces by speaking their names often enough. I don’t even want to write those names! I’ve had a few experiences with angry spirits and I don’t want to leave myself vulnerable to any new visitors.

ELIZABETH SAFLEUR: Ooo, you mean the dark side came calling?

LAURIE OLERICH: In the worst kind of way. I moved into an apartment that came with its own malignant entity. It got into my dreams and terrorized me. One night I dreamed I was being dragged into the closet and woke up on the floor—clinging to my sheets with my legs in the closet! I managed to run to my neighbor’s door and demanded he let me in. I never went back to that apartment.

ELIZABETH SAFLEUR: I’d have moved states. But, back to writing for a sec, who are some of your writing influences?

LAURIE OLERICH: I have so many faves! If you’re going to force me to narrow it down, I’d have to say J.R. Ward, Janet Evanovich, and Eve Langlais. By creating their unique worlds, they’ve inspired me to go all out with my Primani and Demons After Dark world-building. They opened the door for me to let my imagination run wild without worrying that I might go too far. My readers seem to like my crazy imagination so I’m going to keep right on going!

Janet Evanovich gave me (not literally) permission to be true to my natural voice when I wrote my first books. Mica (the heroine) has a dry sense of humor and the ability to get into trouble that balances the darker drama in her books.  How does that relate to Janet? Have you ever read any of her Stefanie Plum books? I’ve read all of them and I can completely see myself as Stefanie Plum! Ha! Mica, from the first Primani book, is kind of a mess like that too!

ELIZABETH SAFLEUR: Rumor also says you’re a gourmet cook. How did that happen, and how are you still single?

LAURIE OLERICH: I love to eat and I love all kinds of food! In 1989, I started getting Bon Appetit magazine. That’s where my kitchen education began, and I actually went to culinary school but dropped out to finish my bachelor’s degree. You might find this surprising, but I get bored easily!

ELIZABETH SAFLEUR: Uh, no…your imagination seems to know no bounds!

LAURIE OLERICH: I hate eating the same things all the time and sadly, there isn’t a wide variety of restaurants within a quick drive. I love being able to whip up chicken tikka or Vietnamese Pho when I have a craving. My son swears I never cook the same thing twice! I think I’d love being a personal chef for someone with refined tastes and a thick wallet.

ELIZABETH SAFLEUR: And write on your non-kitchen hours?

LAURIE OLERICH: Well, I certainly have a full plate for the rest of 2017. I’m working on book four in the Demons After Dark series. I’m also putting together a cute novella featuring one of the Primani kids. Both of these books will be released between Dec and Jan 2018. After that? In 2018, I’m planning four more books. A couple more in DaD. A couple more in the Primani Series.

Check out Laurie Olerich’s supernatural world here and here! Just in time for Halloween and All Soul’s Night.

The LadySmut Fast Lane

Beach or Mountains? Mountains!
Ride on the back or drive the motorcycle? Ride on the back and hang on tight.
High heels or cowboy boots? Heels!
Night Owl or Early bird? Early bird gets the worm–and I like morning sex!
Cocktail or Wine? Wine, unless there’s bourbon. Bourbon’s not a cocktail.
Vampire, Shifter, Demon, Ghost or other supernatural creature? Demon… but my Primani are wicked hot and not filled with hellfire… so them!
Sam or Dean? (Supernatural TV stars and LadySmutters, if you don’t know who I’m talking about you have been missing out on life.) DEAN. All day. All night.
And finally, the top thing on your bucket list? Watching a NY Rangers NHL game in Madison Square Garden.

Love Links

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~~~~~

Elizabeth SaFleur writes contemporary romance that dares to “go there.” Expect alpha males (and females), seductive encounters, and love. Learn more about her steamy and sexy stories by following her on Amazon and Bookbub.

Nancy Gideon’s PRINCE OF POWER: Sexy Sunday Snippet

15 Oct

Hey Gang! Nancy Gideon’s got a contemporary romance for you today that takes place in New Orleans, and has a sexy cast of spies and clans.

Obsessed with an enemy – the only female to ever walk away from him . . .

Colin . . . Prince in the House of Terriot

Brawny, cynical negotiator for his clan, Colin Terriot sees a move to New Orleans as an escape from a painful past and his reputation as a legendary lover. What he didn’t expect was to fall hard for a rival spy, the female who tricked and betrayed him by leaving his bed for his brother’s. Now, he now must work with her, up close and personal, as the envoy for her clan. Things are about to heat up.

Determined to have him – even if having him means losing all . . .

Mia . . . Strong-willed Guedry heir

Denied her rightful legacy, Mia Guedry plans to stake her claim over the bodies of those who killed her family. But best laid plans fall before her desire for the one male she can’t resist, the one who will never trust her once burned by her necessary deceptions. Saving her Terriot prince from plans already in motion may cost more than her inheritance . . . the price could be her life.

Excerpt from PRINCE OF POWER, House of Terriot series, Book 2

The alley behind the Shifter club, Cheveux du Chien, was lit by a single flickering bulb. As Colin thumbed his key fob, the lights to his ride flashed like lightning strikes in a complement to his mood. He turned up his collar as the first fat raindrops fell, then came to a dead stop. The vehicle had a new hood ornament. His blood pressure dropped to his groin.

Mia Guedry perched on the front of the rental, knees spread slightly to accommodate the indolent dangle of her hands. “What took you so long, Dreamy? Hashing out world peace?”

“Get off.” He started around the car, refusing to look where his eyes wanted to go.

“I was hoping to, but you’re not making it easy.”

As he crossed in front of her, one sexy leg stretched out at crotch level to bar passage and the other set up a road block behind his butt. He stopped but refused to turn, demanding, “What do you want, Mia?”

“You.”

His shoulders rose and fell in aggravation. “You’ve had me and made it very clear I was nothing interesting enough to hold your attention. Stop messing with me. I don’t like it.”

Both legs began a suggestive rubbing. “Maybe I was wrong.”

“You are wrong.” He faced her abruptly, hands gripping those tempting bare calves hard enough to leave unintentional bruises. “Everything about you is wrong. You’re bad news I don’t need. You want my brother, take him. He’s a big boy. Be his problem. I’ve got my own.”

Mesmerizing dark eyes fixed on his. He couldn’t look away as she said what he hoped was the only true thing to come from between those red lips.

“I don’t want your brother. I want you.” Rain fell heavier, misting her features, wetting thick black hair, molding the fabric of her top to glorious breasts. “Colin.” Just his name.

All reason fell away.

He reached beneath the scandalously short skirt, tearing away nearly non-existent panties as she pulled at his belt, yanking open his jeans. He jerked her toward him so abruptly, she fell back against the hood of the car, one leg over his shoulder, the other curled about his waist. She arched, crying out at the force of his deep entry. When she tried to reach up for him, he caught her wrists, pressing the backs of her hands to the shiny paint job, holding her in place to receive his aggressive thrusts.

The light flickering behind him cast Colin’s features in harsh ridges and shadows. His eyes gleamed hot and gold. As intensity built with the speed of a bullet train, his lips curled back from savagely clenched teeth, undeniably the most rawly sexual thing she’d ever seen. Or imagined.

Too soon! His fierce plunging strokes were friction on eager tinder, striking flame, searing Mia with waves of combustive heat. The sight of him taking his own rough pleasure against the backdrop of seething heavens, head thrown back, big body shuddering, made her come in a deluge until wrung dry and trembling as he finally went still, continuing to pulse inside her. His breaths panted hard and fast for a long minute as she tried to recover from their quick and totally devastating union.

And then he stepped back, leaving her gasping and ridiculously weak, to zip, buckle, and regard her as if something earthshaking hadn’t just happened between them. His flat tone brought spinning emotions to a halt.

“Where can I drop you off?”

She blinked. Like his laundry? Like an annoying obligation?

Her knees snapping together just a tad late to protect her pride, Mia wriggled off the car, leaving her imprint on its hood. The way he’d left his on her emotions.

“Get ready for fifty shades of tall, dark and deliciously dangerous! 5-Star!” – Book Bling

“Hopelessly addicted” -Darynda Jones, NYT bestselling author of the Charlie Davidson “Grave” series

BUY LINKS:

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Nancy Gideon is the award-winning bestseller of over 60 romances ranging from historical, regency and series contemporary suspense to dark paranormal, with a couple of horror screenplays tossed into the mix, and is currently testing the “Hybrid author” waters. She works full time as a legal assistant in Central Michigan, and when not at the keyboard, feeds a Netflix addiction along with all things fur, fin and fowl.

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