Tag Archives: Excerpt

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Winning Casey by January Bain

10 Jun

Happy Sexy Snippet Sunday! This week we have a hot bit from Book One of January’s Brass Ring Sorority series,

winningcasey_9781786862143_800_2

Blurb:

Headstrong archeologist Casey spends her life exploring the world for hidden treasure and ancient artifacts. A free spirit, her dedication to her calling means she’s often in conflict with the more narrow-minded higher-ups at the university where she’s employed as an associate professor. Timetables, rules, protocols—they all go out of the window when Casey’s on the hunt.

The inscrutable Professor Truman Harrison falls for Casey at first sight, literally, tumbling into a pit at her feet on first meeting. Now, if he as Casey’s new, detested department head can just talk her into helping him search for the legendary treasure buried in the Money Pit of Oak Island, Nova Scotia, maybe he can also get her to fall into his bed. But first he needs to prove to her he’s not just another tunnel-visioned box-ticking management ‘suit’.

But the romance of this scorching-hot couple proves to have all the twists, turns, false starts and trick corners of a multicursal labyrinth. Luckily, both Casey and Truman have no small skill and a little bit of practice in navigating those…

Excerpt:

“Do you have a boyfriend, Casey? I was wondering, as I can’t imagine his wanting you to be wandering all over the countryside without his protection. I know I’d have some objections if it were my woman going off with a strange man looking for ancient treasure.”

“What! I am quite capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much!” And just when he wasn’t looking quite so annoying he came out with that old line.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said.

“No,” she admitted, the alcohol freeing her tongue. “My track record on that score is dismal. Never seems to go past one or two dates. Most guys just don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?” Truman sat so close heat radiated from his warm flesh. She shivered.

“The last guy I went out with liked ketchup on his burned steak for heaven’s sake! Who does that to a forty-dollar steak?” The alcohol loosened her tongue further. “And then there was the guy, an accountant, talked about his retirement plans on the first date,” she said with a snort. “And his married brother with their two perfect children. Showed me photos on his facebook page and everything. He just wanted a wife and one point seven children.” She took another sip of the liquor to stop herself from going any further. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear about my dating woes.”

“No, it’s quite fascinating, really.”

“My bullshit meter says differently,” she said with a snort.

“I understand about commitment issues.”

“Why, have you been burned professor?” Hardly the question one should ask their boss, but he’d started it.

“Yeah, you could say that.” He had someone specific in mind, obviously.

“Care to talk about it?”

“No, done enough of that already,” he said, a twinge of bitterness exposed.

“Therapy is overrated,” she said. “My personal philosophy is ‘suck it up buttercup’ and get on with things.”

It was his turn to snort. “Yeah, well maybe next time.” He got to his feet. “I’d better make us some coffee, darlin’. I’m starting to feel a little too good.” He froze. “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“I hear something large moving in the bush directly across from us. I’ll bet that Byrne is up to something,” he said grimly as he got to his feet. “You stay here. I’ll check.”

“Like hell!” she said scrambling off the chair. She had more training than him on defensive moves, she’d bet her bottom dollar on it.

He gave her a quick look.

“I’ll head to the right. You take the left,” she whispered before he could speak. As quietly and fast as possible she maneuvered around rocks and debris taking a wide berth into the stand of trees, all senses on high alert. Truman headed in the opposite direction, moving like a shadow. Not bad. For a suit.

Bright red eyes glowed fiery in the darkness. She froze, a twig crackled under her shoe making her wince. Every sense on high alert. The eyes were approximately a meter above the ground, the right height for a very large dog or giant wolf.

The head moved slowly as it caught her scent. The piercing eyes bore into hers. Fuck. What was it?

She trained to ward off humans—but this–this was something else entirely. Her breath quickened. Raspy. Too fast. She longed for full body padding. A gun. Bear spray. Any weapon.

Calm down.

She racked her brain. It could only be one thing. The Devil Dog.

Legendary guardian of buried treasure. Byrne had to be playing at creating one to frighten them off. It wasn’t real. Couldn’t be real. Someone in a costume most likely. She took a step closer. Her eyes remained riveted on the spot. Prayed she was right. Because if she was wrong…

The dark shape moved closer. She stood her ground. Swallowed. Hard. Was it going to attack? Her alcohol befuddled mind froze. Time froze.

Then in a flash it turned and began moving toward the shore, away from them. She heard Truman following as she rushed forward, not worrying about being heard now that whatever it was knew they were onto it.

They reached the beach. Casey whirled around.

Gone. Nowhere to be seen.

“What the fuck!” she exclaimed.

“My sediments exactly,” Truman said coming up to her. With only a sliver of moon the beach navigating the beach was difficult, filled with lurking potholes and large objects. He pulled a flashlight from his pocket and shone it on the ground, looking for prints in the sand. Nothing conclusive.

“Hologram?” she asked, musing aloud. Let out a deep breath. “Laser eyes? Little person in a costume?” Now safe, she could let out the stress.

He gave a bark of laughter at the last one. “Not sure, it moved silently. I wouldn’t put it past him though to come up with some crazy way of doing it. He wants us gone. He’s made that abundantly clear.”

~~~~~

Get your copy of Winning Casey direct from the publisher or Amazon. Book Two, Chasing Lacey, is being released June 19th.

~~~~~

If you are looking for January Bain, you can find her hard at work every morning without fail in her office with two furry babies trying to prove who does a better job of guarding the doorway. And, of course, she’s married to the most romantic man! Who once famously remarked to her inquiry about buying fresh flowers for their home every week, “Give me one good reason why not?” Leaving her speechless and knocking her head against the proverbial wall for being so darn foolish. She loves flowers.

If you wish to connect in the virtual world she is easily found on Facebook, twitter and writes a weekly blog about her journey on Blogger. Oh, and she loves to talk books…

 

 

 

Sexy Snippet: Servant of the Undead…A Cage, Chains, and a Zombie Sex Cult

11 May

If you’ve been with Lady Smut for a while, you’ll remember Servant of the Undead. I posted it on the weekends, as a serial. Guess what? Now it’s out in ebook & print and even bigger and badder with a new ending. And–I’ll be at RT next week at the signing on Saturday.

Not attending RT in Reno? No worries. Lady Smut is here to take care of you. We’ll be playing around on Twitter, follow LadySmut1 now and get ready to start using #LadySmut.

Can’t wait until next week to get your #moremattie fix? Buy links are below.

SERVANT cover

Blurb:

Having sex with an ice-covered, smudgy-eyed woman in tattered fishnets and a barely-there mini-skirt is Hayden Thomas’ first mistake. His second: thinking he’s in control of what happens next.

The city of Boston is held hostage by a snow storm and rumors are spreading about zombies roaming the streets, looking for human flesh. Hayden Thomas, tabloid newspaper writer, is out to get something fresh about zombies for his editor. At the Boston Public Library, Hayden uncovers some old research that suggests that some zombie tribes survive by having constant sex instead of eating human flesh.

Mattie, a zombie out looking for information on a rival tribe, finds Hayden and uses him for sex. After using him, she discovers his research. She wants to find out how to reverse herself and become one of the living again, so she decides to keep Hayden as her sexual servant so she can use him for information as well as sex.

isabelledrake-teaser

Excerpt:

Hayden ground his teeth, trying to crush the sensation in his jaw, but couldn’t pull his gaze away from Mattie’s glistening, exposed body. Tiny icicles clung to the tangles of her hair and flakes of snow dotted her thighs, bare above the edge of the tights. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his mind from acknowledging the blood flowing to his cock. “The guy I work for thinks they’re a great tie-in to the zombie stuff—my piece, the comic convention and the opening of Zombie Rites. And all that stuff about zombies—”

“Roaming the streets?” she cut in, grinning as she dropped her hand to smack snow off her limp skirt. Once she got the clumps off, she ran her fingers across the hem, inching it up her bare thighs.

Holy fuck, he was starting to remember what it felt like to be inside her. Driving into her tight core, pounding until he couldn’t think straight.

Hayden glanced at the apartment. Rachelle was not peering out the window, watching for him. Thank God. He shifted back. Most girls would probably get pretty pissed at a guy who took a video of himself grinding his dick into her, but this girl seemed anything but pissed. Hayden found himself watching the flicker of her stubby black fingernails as she inched up the hem of her skirt. He knew she wasn’t wearing panties. Five inches was all it would take and her bare pussy—

He took a sharp step forward, ready to shove her out of the way if necessary. She grabbed his arm and jerked him close enough for her nipples to brush against him.

“My girlfriend is waiting for me,” he said, pointing to the third story of the brownstone.

Mattie tossed back her mass of hair, exposing a small black device tucked into her ear. “I know. ‘Don’t make me wait.’ Isn’t that what she said?” A cruel smile tugged on the corner of her full mouth as she took in his expression. “You don’t understand yet, do you? Let me explain. You belong to me now. Until I’m done with you, that is.” She forced one of her legs between his thighs and lifted until her knee pressed into his solid cock. “I’m liking you more and more, so we may be together a while.”

Hayden jerked his arms free and reached for her pale throat. The skin beneath his palms was wet, slick, smooth. And cold, lifeless.

“Go up there and fuck your girlfriend,” she said, then shoved him away and moved toward the wall of the row house. She propped her booted foot on the cornerstone and lifted herself. She slithered up; her hands clutching the frost-covered bricks, then paused about ten feet from the ground. “And make it hot. Because I’ll be watching.” And with that, she crept up to the third-floor window and nestled under the eave.

Get your copy straight from the publisher Riverdale Ave Press Books, Amazon or other ebook outlets.

And get ready to play around with LadySmut next week!

RT-18-Reno-Banner-V3

Isabelle Drake has just finished the spring semester and is currently at a loss as to what to do with herself. This disorientation is expected to last 36 hours. After that time she will get back to writing. Her other new release is Make Me Blush, an steamy beachread anthology. Get your copy on Kindle and other outlets.

Sexy Sunday Snippet with Bonus Interview from Devon McCormack

25 Mar

Happy Sunday Lady Smutters. This week we’re here to please you with Kris Michaels’ guest post–an interview with Devon McCormack and a sexy snippet from his book, Jesse, from his BFF: Best Friend’s Father Series.

KRIS MICHAELS:  Readers, it is my pleasure to introduce Devon McCormack! He is one of the authors I stalk. His books are H.O.T., and the stories carry that delicious hotness through a myriad of situations that hook you until the very last page. If you haven’t read his work, do yourself a favor and hop onto Amazon and pick up one of his stories. You will not regret it! Enough fangirling! To the interview!

Hi, Devon! Thank you for agreeing to be interviewed for Lady Smut’s blog. I have some questions listed. As you know, or I assume you know, I’m a huge fan of your work.

DEVON MCCORMACK: Thank you so much! I’m thrilled to be on the blog today!

KRIS MICHAELS: Please, tell us a little something about you.

DEVON MCCORMACK: Oh, Jesus, where to begin? I’m thirty in Grindr years, but that’s all I’m saying there. I live in Atlanta, Georgia with my partner, who I affectionately dub as BF, and my little pooch, Brody. I’m an author, but the only thing my partner thinks I’m really writing is FB posts and comments all day long. LOL

KRIS MICHAELS: When was it that the thought struck you, ‘You know, I want to be a writer?’

DEVON MCCORMACK: I couldn’t tell you exactly when. I was writing as a kid, and I remember writing this really short story…I was probably like eight or nine…and I was like, “I need to get this published.” Of course, easier said than done. So I’ve been getting rejection slips from agents and publishers since way back then. And obviously, none of that was enough to discourage me.

KRIS MICHAELS: Do you write full time? What is your work schedule like when you’re writing?

DEVON MCCORMACK: I am on my computer full-time, but I wish I could say that I was writing that much. 😉

As for my schedule, I typically wake up around 4-5AM, depending on how lazy I’m feeling. I might get up at like 5:30AM if I’m feeling sluggish. I’ll write from then to, say, 10AM. Then I have a long break until I hit the gym around 2PM. After that, I’ll write on until maybe 6 or 7PM. I take breaks, but I have a timer that I use to clock a certain number of hours. This is for my own solo work. If I have a collab going on at the same time with Riley Hart, then I have to do that during my day at some point as well.

KRIS MICHAELS: How long does it take you to write a book?

DEVON MCCORMACK: However long it takes. It varies, but I word-vomit the first draft and then go back and clean up the mess through extensive revisions, so not terribly long. I won’t let anything go beyond three months, though. If a book starts getting that difficult, it just needs to be tossed in the trash. Of course, if I felt like I was being productive and the project was going well but just taking a bit longer, I would pursue it. However, for me, a book usually doesn’t stretch out that long. I get very focused and just want to get to the end of the project as quickly as I can.

KRIS MICHAELS: When did you write your first book? What book was it? What did you learn writing it?

DEVON MCCORMACK: This is always an interesting question. I can never tell if people mean my first book ever or my first published book. If we’re going with that first novel, I was fifteen years old. It was this middle grade fantasy about a kid who enters this alternate world where he goes on all sorts of magical adventures, which was a ton of fun to write. I think the most important thing it taught me was that I could write a book from start to finish. It showed me that it just required a certain amount of discipline. Obviously I learned a lot of other things about creating characters, conveying information to a reader, and writing dialogue, but just knowing that I could get the damn thing done was a good first step.

After that, I have a drawer full of books that will never see the light of day. But my first published book I wrote back in 2012-2013. It was called Clipped, and it was just this crazy paranormal adventure where I did pretty much whatever I wanted. That taught me that sometimes I just need to say, “Fuck it,” and do my own thing, which is what I typically do when I’m writing. I can stress about people hating that stuff later on.

KRIS MICHAELS: What drew you to writing romance?

DEVON MCCORMACK: I’d always been a big romance reader, so I think it came very naturally. I worked at. Borders bookstore in college, and I would sneak Ellora’s Cave titles into the breakroom because those were just so delicious. They made me feel so naughty and deviant…and at the time, those covers were fucking wild.

But when I started writing, I was actually working on more erotic titles…with some young adult projects as well…go figure. I think it was like 2015 when I started to really get into romance. Mostly, that was because I had some personal things going on that made me want some HEAs in my life. It was such a wonderful experience, and I fell in love with how much I could delve into my characters and explore their relationships. People interest me, and romance is the perfect platform for analyzing the human condition…our insecurities, fears, weaknesses, values, strengths, and proclivities. Plus, I love sex in books, and I can write as much as I want in romance. 😉

KRIS MICHAELS: Where do you get your ideas for your books?

DEVON MCCORMACK: Usually, I’ll be thinking on some random thing and I’ll be like, “Ooh, that interests me!” Today, even while writing this, I got an idea for something that I can’t start on right at this moment, but just sort of reflecting on a situation in my life, this idea for these two guys came to me and I thought, “I can do something with this!”

KRIS MICHAELS: What was one of the most surprising things you learned in creating your books?

DEVON MCCORMACK: The threads that run through most, if not all, of them. They show what I’m interested in exploring and learning more about. For instance, mental illness is something I really like to write about. It’s something I personally enjoy researching, so it makes sense that it comes up often, but I don’t think I would have thought much about it if I hadn’t written enough books to be able to look back and notice that thread running through a lot of them.

And then there are little things. I’ll notice them in two or three books, and I’ll think, “Weird that there are these similarities between these projects. I wonder what that says about me?”

KRIS MICHAELS: What do you think makes a good story?

DEVON MCCORMACK: Something that keeps me, as a reader, engaged. I don’t know, though. A lot of that is about tastes. A story that engages me is awful to another reader, and a book someone else adores will be meh to me. I just want something that keeps me turning the pages.

KRIS MICHAELS: What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

DEVON MCCORMACK: And when is this non-writing time happening? LOL I’m probably hitting the gym or going for a jog, because gotta get that shit in! (And I believe that about other areas of my life, too, but let’s not be dirty 😉 ). I don’t know…I like going out with friends or just binge-watching new music videos on Youtube. Nothing very exciting.

KRIS MICHAELS: How many books have you written?

DEVON MCCORMACK: Just enough. 😉

KRIS MICHAELS: In your writing career, what has been your biggest accomplishment?

DEVON MCCORMACK: I self-published my first novel, Clipped, and I would say taking that risk…that willingness to just go for it, is probably the moment I’m most proud of. I was obsessed with traditional publishing back then. I submitted every book to agents and publishers…to no avail. And to be willing to put myself out there, without the sanction of someone else saying what I’d created was good, that took a lot of pushing past mental demons. It wasn’t a particularly easy road after that, but I pushed on and I just kept facing the obstacles as they presented themselves, and I’m thrilled that I did.

KRIS MICHAELS: Have you ever had a moment where you sat back and looked at your accomplishments and felt content with where you are and what you are doing? If so, what was that moment?

DEVON MCCORMACK: I’m not a particularly content person, and I always feel like I’m moving on to the next thing before I have a chance to enjoy the thing that came before it. I’ve certainly had moments where I appreciated what was happening, but content…IDK…that feels like something I’ve never really felt about anything in my life. Occasionally, I might have three minutes where I’m in the middle of a particularly juicy sex scene, and I’ll stop and have this big smile on my face and think, “Damn, I’m lucky.” But that’s about it. Hahahaha.

~~~~~

Book blurb:

A beach vacay with my best bud since college seems like the perfect opportunity to relax, catch some rays, and enjoy a couple of nights on the town. When I find a girl who’s eager to mess around with me, I figure I’ve got it made.

Then I meet the intense, hot-as-hell, tattooed Eric Westright, who wrecks my world…in the best possible way.

He awakens something within me-something that’s always been here, but that’s never pulled so powerfully…not until I looked into those solemn blue eyes and felt the red-hot spark of his touch.

There’s something about this chemistry that’s so intoxicating, and the more I get to know him, the harder it becomes for me to resist these impulses that overtake me-that leave me wanting him to show me what it feels like to have a man inside me.

I know he’s fighting too. It’s so wrong, but every kiss, every caress, every stroke feels so right. We shouldn’t act on these urges, but we can’t help ourselves.

First he claims my body, then he claims my heart.

And before I know it, I’m in too deep with my best friend’s father…

*BFF is a steamy romance, but one of the main characters has a painful past that may act as a trigger for some people. Readers are invited to check out the complete trigger warning on the copyright page, which can be viewed by clicking on the “Look Inside” preview or by downloading the sample. These triggers contain spoilers for the novel.

bff.jpg

Book excerpt:

I glance myself over in the floor-length mirror, inspecting my profile to see how I look in the swimming trunks I’m wearing. I face forward, flexing my six-pack, appreciating the effort I made to lose a couple of pounds before our Puerto Vallarta vacation. It’s nice seeing the definition in my torso as well as some good bulk in my chest and biceps.

I run my hand through my dark-brown hair and then I hear, “Ooh, look who’s feeling conceited in that suit.”

Ty steps out of the changing room in a polka-dotted Speedo, surely noticing that I’m basically checking myself out in the mirror, something he’s done quite a few times since we got to the swimsuit designer’s boutique. We’ve been trying on different cuts and designs for close to half an hour, helping the designer, Julio, get an idea of the type of suit we want.

It’s kind of weird getting a designer swimsuit with Ty. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have half the clothes hanging in my closet, mainly because I’m not as interested in clothes shopping as he is.

“Whatever,” I say.

Ty comes up behind me and slaps my ass. “Looking good, looking good,” he teases.

I roll my eyes. “It’s kind of girly,” I say, assessing the bright fuchsia suit.

“The girlier you wear, the more masculine you look,” Ty explains. “Trust me, it’s a thing.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I say as he inspects his ass in the Speedo he has on. The sunlight entering through the bay window shimmers off Ty’s sandy-blond hair, which matches the bit of scruff he’s grown since we’ve been on vacation. With killer abs he’s never had an issue maintaining with a sit-up here or there, I don’t deny he looks hot in the suit.

“That’s always been a thing,” he insists. “If you wear something that looks very feminine, then the odds are people are going to think you must be super masculine to be trying to pull it off.”

“Or assume I want a dick in my mouth,” I add.

Not that it would be entirely untrue or that I haven’t felt that way about guys in my life, but I don’t need to wear a fucking banner to let the world know I get a little confused about all that from time to time.

“He might have a point there,” Julio says with a smile as he folds his arms. He stands off to the side, watching us try on the suits, seeming to enjoy the show.

Ty shakes his head. “Whatever. Julio, I’m not loving this. What else you got?”

Here we go…

We try on a few more before we each buy one. Then we head back to Ty’s dad’s condo.

It’s a few miles from Julio’s swimsuit boutique, so we take a cab. As we get in, Ty’s phone pings, and he checks it.

“It’s Mandy,” he says, a sparkle in his eyes.

Last night, we ran into some college-age kids who are here for a couple of weeks, same as us. They were a fun group to get hammered with. Ty hit on this girl named Mandy while I chatted up her friend Dana.

“Oh really?” I ask. “And what does Mandy want?”

“She and her friends are having a party tonight at the house they’re renting.”

“I’m game.”

“You’re game?” he asks. “What the fuck do you mean you’re game? You can’t tell me you don’t want to get all up on Dana. I saw the way you were hitting on her.”

“She was nice, but I think you were a little more into Mandy than I was into Dana.”

He rolls his eyes. “Seriously. You need to relax and get some.”

“I’m not looking for that. I just finished things with Whitney, so the last thing I need right now is to be chasing girls around.”

“That’s definitely not the last thing you need.”

I chuckle. “Okay, I get what you mean, but, Ty, I’m enjoying being single.”

“The whole point of being single is that you get to have sex with whoever you want.”

“I don’t want to hook up,” I tell Ty.

“Come on. It’ll be like our Georgia Tech days.”

“Even back then, I wasn’t having sex like you were. I was going on dates. You remember what those are? Like actually getting to know girls? The whole pickup scene isn’t my thing.”

“You are too hot for that.”

“It’s called making a connection. Actually giving a shit about a person.”

“Whatever. Sounds boring to me.” Although, I can tell by the expression on his face that he’s just giving me a hard time. “But promise me you’ll get some action while you’re here. I don’t want to believe you wasted AMEX points and came all the way here from Atlanta just so you can get skin cancer and maybe a bacterial infection from drinking the water.”

I laugh. “Shut the fuck up.”

When we get back to his dad’s condo, as we walk through the front door, I’m blown away by the designer furnishings, decor, and artwork. Every time we step in, I’m reminded suddenly I’m in a rich person’s place.

On the other side of the living area, two sliding glass doors lead onto a balcony overlooking the bay. It’s the sort of place I would never be able to have access to if it wasn’t for Ty and his bougie life because of his family.

Not that I do badly with my job, but that’s not how I grew up—I was bouncing around from foster family to foster family, none of whom had a place even comparable to this. And it’s definitely not like my apartment now, so it’s a stark change from what I’ve always been used to.

“That’s weird,” Ty says. “I thought we hit the lights before we left.”

I’m not sure if he’s right, but as we look around, I hear a sound coming from inside one of the guest bedrooms.

“Eric, that you?” Ty asks.

We approach the bedroom, and I hear the sound of running water, which stops abruptly. A moment passes before someone comes around the corner from the bathroom.

I’ve never met Ty’s dad before. They didn’t even meet until Ty was sixteen, and from what Ty’s told me, their relationship isn’t the best. In fact, I think the only reason his dad lets him hang here is to make up for how he wasn’t there for him when he was a kid.

The guy looks like he’s in his early forties. He has a cut body, decorated with a dark, navy-colored sleeve tat that runs up his arm and across his left pec. The design is elaborate, though I can’t make out what it’s of. Jet-black hair, a stark contrast to Ty’s sandy-blond locks, falls across his forehead as it drips with water, which runs down his face, through a half an inch or so of neatly-groomed scruff that covers his sharp jawline.

He wraps a towel around his waist as he heads toward us, and for a moment—too brief a moment—I get a glimpse of his massive cock.

Holy fuck.

I can’t deny the stiffening erection in my jeans. He’s a hot man. It’s rare that I meet a guy I get the hots for, but he’s definitely one who gets me going, and I feel guilty as fuck that it’s with my best friend’s father.

Get your copy of Jesse now at Amazon.

~~~~~

Devon McCormack spends most of his time hiding in his lair, adventuring in paranormal worlds with his island of misfit characters. A good ole Southern boy, McCormack grew up in the Georgian suburbs with his two younger brothers and an older sister. At a very young age, he spun tales the old fashioned way, lying to anyone and everyone he encountered. He claimed he was an orphan. He claimed to be a king from another planet. He claimed to have supernatural powers. He has since harnessed this penchant for tall tales by crafting whole worlds where he can live out whatever fantasy he chooses.

Devon’s body of work ranges from erotica to young adult, so readers should check the synopses of his books before purchasing so that they know what they’re getting into.

You can find Devon on Facebook and Twitter.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Rewritten by Bronwyn Green

18 Mar

It’s Sunday…and you can depend on Lady Smut to bring your something hot. This week we have a hot bit from Bronwyn Green’s Rewritten, part of the Bound series.

About the Bound series:

What’s hotter than sexy accents, BDSM, and a bit of rope? Not Much.

rewrittennew2

Book blurb:

Betrayed and completely exposed, she’d sworn off kink. Hell, she’d sworn off men. But she hadn’t counted on him…

One of the hottest voices in Sci-Fi, Angus Domhnull is renowned not just for his sweeping sagas, but for his stupidly gorgeous looks—and the fact that he’s taken almost five years to finish his latest novel. Now, assistant editor, Eliza Burrows, is stuck minding him, and his brooding nature is pushing every sexually submissive button she has. But even if Angus wasn’t her publisher’s star author, he’d be off-limits—after a painful betrayal, Eliza doesn’t play anymore, and she’s not about to start again with him.

Unable to deliver his long-awaited manuscript, Angus is saddled with a keeper—and her creative input—that he never asked for. Despite the resentment and animosity brewing between them, he finds himself drawn to Eliza. As he learns more about the intriguing woman behind the prickly facade, he falls for her, hard and deep.

When the attraction between them ignites, Eliza lets Angus bring her to one place she swore she’d never go again—her knees. He wants more than just her submission, but her past and the secrets she’s hidden could destroy everything…

Book excerpt:

“I don’t need a minder.”

Eliza Burrows stared at the top of the man’s dark head as she waited for him to look up and acknowledge her presence. He continued to tap away at this laptop keys as if she’d already left the room. When it seemed no further response would be forthcoming, she cleared her throat. “I’m not here as a babysitter, Mr. Domhnull.”

“Didn’t ask for you. Don’t want you,” he muttered, never looking up.

“Your publisher—”

“My publisher is a bunch of scabby bawbag sucking skivers.”

Her lips twitched, but she managed not to smile. Barely. It was nearly impossible not to be charmed by his heavy Scottish accent, not to mention amused by his word choice though. Not that he would have noticed as intent on ignoring her as he was.

“Well, that bunch of dirty testicle sucking idiots—or is it layabouts? Anyway, they hired me to do a job.”

He looked up at that, the intensity in his nearly black eyes almost stealing her breath. Or maybe it was just that he was so much more beautiful than she’d been prepared for. Sure, she’d seen his picture—who at Terra Ink Publishing hadn’t? But photographs had not done this man justice. Thick slashes of black brows sat above eyes so dark brown, it was almost impossible to discern the pupil from the iris. Long lashes framed those bright, dark eyes. Eyes that were currently assessing her. But she refused to let him see any weakness.

Instead, she smiled serenely and went on, “And that job is making sure you attend your panels on time and sober—”

He threw up his hands. “Show up guttered one time, and—”

And,” she continued, “that you finish your book.”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, pinning her with that inky gaze. “So, explain to me again how you’re not a minder?”

She refused to look away.

Angus Domhnull was basically the George R. R. Martin of the science fiction world. Well, the super-hot, sci-fi version of George R. R. Martin, anyway. Angus had been working on the final book in his blockbuster series, Dark Nebula Rising, for almost five years. He’d already blown deadline after deadline, and his fans were getting pissed. But not as pissed as his editor and the powers that be at Terra Ink.

So here she was—glorified babysitter—at least, for the duration of this tour. “Technically, my current job title is assistant editor, but I’ll be acting as your author assistant,” she said stiffly.

“Soooooooooo…” He drew out the word as he shoved his hand through his unruly curls.

“So, fine. I’m your minder.” She straightened her spine. “I’ll do my best to stay out of your hair while you’re working, and to make sure you’re where you’re supposed to be when you’re supposed to be there.”

He stared at her for a moment more then, obviously dismissing her, lowered his head and began typing again.

Stifling a sigh, she opened the file folder she’d been holding and laid several sheets of paper and one of her business cards on his desk. He continued working, pointedly ignoring her.

“That’s a copy of your schedule. There will be a car waiting at seven-thirty. If you need anything, my cell number is on the back of the business card.”

Turning on her heel, she walked toward the door of their adjoining rooms.

“Ms….”

She looked back at him as he picked up the business card, clearly searching for her name.

“Burrows?”

“Yes?”

“Close the door on your way out.”

Rewritten is out now and you can get your copy from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and iBooks.

~~~~~

Bronwyn Green is an author, blogger, and compulsive crafter. She lives in Michigan with her husband, two children and four somewhat psychotic cats. When not frantically writing, she can be found binge-watching Netflix while working on her latest craft project. Find and follow her on Facebook and Instagram.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Fade to Black: Iris and Ezra by Holly Halsey Mayes

2 Mar

Sunday! More sexy happiness. Today we have a snippet from Holly Halsey Mayes’ contemporary romance, Fade to Black: Iris and Ezra.

cover Iris

Book Blurb:

When thirty-five year old nursing student Iris Walker accepts a concert invitation with a self-proclaimed “Ivy League go-getter”, little did she know she would be attempting to escape from him by the end of the date. She runs into Ezra Black, a man in the woods behind the concert venue, and later discovers he is the lead singer of one of the bands. Desperate to ditch her date-gone-bad, Ezra helps her escape. Even though their encounter is brief, she quickly learns she can’t get him out of her mind. He can’t forget her either, and when Iris inadvertently leaves her ID on his tour bus, he takes advantage of the opportunity to see her again.

Even though Iris is attracted to him, he’s ten years younger than her and leads a busy life in the public eye. She’s divorced, with an eight year old daughter, and trying to regain custody back from her manipulative ex-husband. Dating a rock star isn’t going to help her case, particularly one tormented by the secrets from his past. Despite the different paths they find themselves on, Iris and Ezra are drawn into in a relationship that seems destined to fade away before it can begin.

Book Excerpt:

The locker room is empty. I change out of my clothes, which are still damp with sweat. I wasn’t initially going to use the steam room or sauna, but now that I’m done working out, I feel like it may be a nice way to wrap up my visit. Besides, who knows when I will get a chance to do this again?

I put on a fluffy white robe and head over to the hot tub first. These are separate for men and women, but the sauna and steam room are same sex. I lay my white robe on the chair and step into the hot tub, letting the warm water wash over me. On the edge of the tub, there is a pitcher of ice water with lemons, along with paper cups. I pour myself a glass and take a long drink.

Leaning back, I clear my mind. Even though the yoga was good for me, my heart still aches with sadness. I miss Ezra.

Stepping out of the water, I wrap my robe around myself and push open another door that leads to the steam room. The air is hot, but moist. I lay my robe down in a chair and wrap a towel around myself.

The steam room is empty so I sit on the corner bench and rest my forehead on my knees. I can’t get him out of my mind. It’s been two weeks, and my heart breaks every hour of every day. I can’t erase him from my memory—our late night conversations, his stories about the fans on tour, the places he’s seen. And the way he makes me feel when we’re together, the way he makes love to me, cherishes me. Moisture rolls down my face, from either sweat or tears, and a sob escapes me.

The door opens, causing the air pressure in the room to change as the steam rolls out. I sniff and wipe my nose with my towel. I keep my head down in a relaxed pose, and hope the person who came in leaves me alone—I’m not in the mood for conversation.

My mind strays to Ezra—his green eyes that get darker when he’s turned on, his slow sexy smile, crooked on one side when he’s teasing me, the one dimple that appears when he laughs out loud. It’s no wonder women go crazy for him. And he liked me, an older woman with a child and baggage out to here. The smell of his cologne haunts me, even in here. Did I make a mistake, letting him go? Pushing him away?

The steam jets spurt on, pushing hot air into the room, filling my lungs. I close my eyes and pull my towel over my face.

Warm hands press onto my shoulders, followed by heat—lips, softly placed on the center of my back.

Ezra.

He’s here.

I start to cry, my shoulders wracked with grief. Part of me is relieved, but at the same time, this is starting all over again with the loss. We’re postponing the inevitable.

“Why are you here?” My voice is choked up. I don’t look at him. I’m facing the wall, my knees drawn up to my chest.

“I miss you.” His deep voice echoes in the room, even though he’s trying to speak softly. “I miss the person I was when you were in my life.”

“Ezra, we can’t do this—” I start shakily, still amazed he’s here. He turns me around to face him. A towel is wrapped around his waist, hanging low. His chest hair, dark and glistening in the moist air, gathers around his navel into a trail that leads down beneath his towel. The steam vents have stopped, but the air is thick. He stands like a ghost in the mist before me. Perhaps I’m imagining him after all.

“I haven’t taken a full breath since you’ve been gone.” His eyes are pleading. His face is drawn, thinner, tired. Like he hasn’t slept in days. A lock of dark hair curls and falls down over his forehead. “Please, don’t send me away.”

My heart shatters and I let out a sob. He doesn’t hesitate, grabbing my hand to kiss my palm as he rubs his cheek against my hand, the scruff on his face lightly scratching at my fingers.

He leans me back on the hot tiles and loosens the towel from my body. For a split second, I consider the fact we are in a public steam room. He takes the lemon scented hand towel and gently lays it over my eyes. I can’t see anything, but the heat from his gaze and the steam in the room is like molten lava on my skin. I should tell him no. I should stop this, but in this instant, I don’t care—one more time, just one more time to be with him.

I smell lemon from the towel and mint as he lets out a breath before softly kissing me, licking and tracing the edges of my lips. He nips my bottom lip and gives it a tug. I kiss him back, hesitant at first, but he deepens the kiss, encouraged by my acceptance. When I reach my arms up, he backs away, leaving me lying naked on the tiles and blindfolded by the hand towel.

He pulls my arms up around my head and his mouth travels downward as he traces around my nipple with his tongue, drawing it into his mouth and sucking before letting it go with a pop. I’m on fire from the inside out.

He continues his descent, kissing and licking down my stomach, pulling my knees apart, and lowering his head between my thighs. Using his fingers, he spreads me wide, licking gently from the bottom to the top. When he gets to my clit, he gives it a hard suck and I cry out.

~~~~

Get your copy now on Amazon.

~~~~

Holly Mayes is a native of Michigan and enjoys reading, writing, photography and spending time with her two daughters, husband, cat and dog.

She has been published for her short stories in the Lansing Community College Washington Square Review, the women’s online journal When Women Waken, and the Rescued Pets Anthology by Splattered Ink Press.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Found by Annabelle Michaels

25 Feb

This week’s Sexy Snippet is extra awesome. We have a bonus interview Kris Michaels did with Annabella Michaels.

KRIS MICHAELS: Hi, Annabella! I have to gush for just a moment. I LOVE your writing. I’ve read every one of your books–twice, and I’m secretly doing a fan girl dance right now. So, while I settle down, why don’t you tell our audience a little something about yourself?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: I was born and raised in a small town near Cincinnati, Ohio. I’m 44 years old and I’ve been married to my high school sweetheart for 23 years. Together, we’ve raised two amazing kids. My daughter is in her third year of college, studying special education, and my son is a high school senior/sophomore in college, studying software engineering. Our home is a bit like a zoo at the moment because we have 3 cats, 3 dogs and 40 rabbits, which explains why I lock myself in my writing cave all the time. LOL

KRIS MICHAELS: When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: I’ve always been an avid reader, but I’d never really considered writing. Then one of my best friends started writing and she would often ask me my opinions on things, such as, what things I’d like to see in a story or what song the characters should dance to at their wedding, etc. It got my creative juices flowing and my own storyline started to unfold in my head. My friend encouraged me to give writing a try and to just write for my own enjoyment. So, I did and soon, I had taken off with an entire series.

KRIS MICHAELS: What drew you into writing romance?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: I’ve always loved romance stories. From the moment the characters feel that first spark, to the second they realize they can’t live without that person; I love it all. When I decided to give writing a try, there was no question in my mind that it would be romance.

KRIS MICHAELS: How long does it take you to write a book?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: It honestly depends on how much time I have to write and how well the characters are “speaking” to me. Generally, it takes me about a month to write everything and then another month to go through the editing process.

KRIS MICHAELS: Do you write full time? What is your work schedule like when you’re writing?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: I WISH! LOL. Hopefully someday soon, I’ll be able to write full time. I own another business and on the days I work there (usually 2-3 days/week), I’ll write in the evenings after I get home. All other days, including weekends, I write as much as possible. Luckily, I have a very patient and supportive family.

KRIS MICHAELS: What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: Okay, I’m not really sure if this is a quirk or just my being inept, but my family makes fun of this all the time. I can’t type. Like, AT ALL! I haven’t had to do it since my high school typing class, so I lost that skill over the years. I AM, however, an outstanding hen pecker. I’m really very fast at it and it’s how I’ve written all my books. Sometimes, though, I’ll be in the zone and just furiously pecking away and my kids will shout from the other room, “Can somebody, please open the door and let that chicken outside?” Haha! Did I mention they think they’re comedians?

KRIS MICHAELS: What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: READ!!! That’s the one thing I’ve missed since I started writing. I don’t have nearly the time to read that I used to have, but I do give myself 20 minutes to read each night before bed. It’s my way of unwinding and getting lost in someone else’s world.

KRIS MICHAELS: How many books have you written?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: There are 7 books in the Souls of Chicago series and I’m currently working on my eighth book, which is a spinoff from that series.

KRIS MICHAELS: What do you think makes a good story?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: For me, it would be lots of emotion. I enjoy sex scenes as much as the next person, but I love a story that makes me laugh, cry or get angry, right along with its characters. If a story has a lot of depth, then I care more about what happens to the characters and when those intimate scenes occur, it’s like I’m right there with them.

KRIS MICHAELS: As a child, what did you want to do when you grew up?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: I wanted to be a child psychologist and actually started out majoring in psychology in college. Then I found something else that was a better fit for me, and that’s what I do when I’m not writing.

KRIS MICHAELS: If I stranded you on a mountain top for a year in a cabin, with everything but internet or entertainment provided, and told you only had access to three author’s books, which authors would you read?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: Oh, wow! That actually sounds heavenly. Haha! My three choices would be Charlie Cochet, Abigail Roux and T.J. Klune. Hands down, my favorites.

KRIS MICHAELS: Thank you so much for taking the time to visit with us today. If you love wonderful character driven romances with deep emotion, check out Annabella’s Soul’s of Chicago Series. I highly recommend it!

~~~~~

Found is part of the Hamilton’s Heroes series.

Copy of found-customdesign-jayaheer2018-eBook-complete (1) (2) copy

Book blurb:

As a former U.S.A.F. Pararescueman, Jeremy O’Brien is used to following orders, no questions asked. So, when Micah, his boss at Hamilton Security, asks him to take on a special case, he readily accepts. Micah’s instructions are simple, find the man in the picture and bring him back to Chicago.

Seven years ago, Zane Wilkinson left the hospital against doctor’s orders, only to suffer a final, devastating blow that left him with no choice but to leave the only place he’d called home. Feeling heartbroken and empty, Zane moved from town to town just trying to survive, while never letting anyone get too close.

In a chance encounter, Jeremy finds himself crossing paths with a man who fits Zane’s description. His instincts tell him that he’s on to something, but Micah warns him that he needs to be absolutely sure. Jeremy sets a plan in motion that will allow him to get closer to the man he believes to be Zane. However, the closer he gets, the more he likes the man and begins to question why he was sent to find him.

Will Jeremy be able to follow through with his orders without becoming too attached? Or will he realize that in his search for Zane, he’s found so much more than he bargained for?

Excerpt:

The ache in my chest was something new. I’d never felt so much pain for someone else, but seeing him hurting actually caused my heart to hurt. Without thinking, I reached over and took his hand. He stiffened at first and I kept my hand loose, giving him the option if he wanted to pull away, but after a few seconds I felt him tighten his grip, just a fraction. We stayed that way, with his hand in mine, the rest of the drive. I stared out my window, trying to figure out what was happening to me.

I was no stranger to developing bonds with other people. After all, I’d been very close with my mom, and I’d even had the occasional boyfriend before. The men I’d served with in the Air Force and the guys I worked with at Hamilton security were like brothers to me. I trusted each of them with my life and they trusted me with theirs. Yet, sitting in that truck, holding his hand was the most connected I’d ever felt to another human being.

What had started out as a simple attraction was quickly becoming more, at least for me. How much more, I couldn’t say. Logically, I knew that getting involved with him was reckless, but I was also helpless to stop it. I still didn’t know why Micah wanted him brought to Chicago, or if he was in fact Zane. For all I knew, he could be wanted by the police, possibly as a hacker or a drug dealer, although my instincts told me that he wasn’t a criminal.

Regardless of all the unknowns, two things were perfectly clear: the man sitting beside me affected me more than anyone I’d ever met in my life and, reckless or not, I wanted to get to know him better.

~~~~~

Get your copy of Found now on Amazon.

Here’s what Annabella has to say about herself:

I am married to my high school sweetheart who let’s face it, is a saint for putting up with me all of these years. Together we have been blessed with the chance to raise two amazing human beings and so far we haven’t screwed it up; I’ll let you know for sure later. I am a business owner and spend more time laughing than actually working most days. I love watching movies, cooking, going to the beach and spending time with my family and best friends. I am an obsessive reader who is a complete sucker for a good love story, but loves to feel a broad range of emotions throughout a book. I think real life is hard enough and so my books offer twists and turns, but always with a happy ending.

Find her on Amazon and Facebook  and join her Facebook group, Annabella’s Sexy Souls.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: An Actor’s Guide to Romance by Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead

18 Feb

Happy Sunday Sexies! This week we have some hotness from Catherine Curzon’s single title pairing, An Actor’s Guide to Romance.

An Actors Guide to Romance cover

Book Blurb:

For twenty years, Adam Fisher and Thomas Fox have been the best of enemies. From their first meeting at drama school to shared stages, shared bills and a competition to amass the most illustrious awards, they have been the names on every theatregoers’ lips. Separately they can sell out an entire run in an hour, so when they’re cast as lovers in London’s hottest new play, the tickets are gone in minutes.

But for rakish Adam and gentlemanly Thomas, the small matter of their first on-stage kiss is causing a headache for everyone. Over a bottle of wine on one rainy night in the city, these two acting legends will do whatever it takes to banish their first-night nerves. After all, as everyone knows, the show must go on!

Excerpt:

This was more than the script called for, more than their history of arguments and jibes and rivalry called for too, and it was Adam who broke the kiss first. He gazed at Thomas through eyes that shone with desire, his lips parted in a perfect, tempting pout.

“The first time I read the script,” he purred, “I thought how much better it would’ve been if they went to bed at this point, don’t you think? Our brave young playwright missed a trick there.”

Thomas panted, trying and failing to make sense of what had just happened. And what Adam was saying. Bed?

He rested the tip of his nose against Adam’s, staring into those beautiful blue eyes, his mouth fallen open as if the kiss had robbed him of the power of speech.

Since Thomas was an actor, the silence didn’t last long.

“I think you’re right. Damn right.” Thomas swallowed, grinning as he stroked Adam’s back. “What this play needs is a love scene. A proper one with naked, tangled limbs…” He brushed his lips against Adam’s. “Lots of sighing… Perhaps a headboard banging against a wall as well. Do you agree?”

“The way I see it, we need to really work through this tension between us.” Adam nodded gravely. “Twenty years of rivalry haven’t done it, so we could just see if a very sweaty, very dramatic fuck achieves what awards and curtain calls can’t. You might still hate me at the end of it, but you’ll be very happy at the same time.”

“I’m pretty happy now, to be honest.” Thomas brought his other hand between their bodies and cupped it over the bulge of Adam’s erection. “As are you, I notice. Now—if my co-star wouldn’t mind leading the way to the bedroom, we can get this love scene blocked out properly.”

“This is a one-time, gala performance. A royal command, if you like. One night only.” Adam took Thomas by the hand and led him from the sitting room. They passed along a hallway decorated with bright oiled canvasses showing splashes of color and seaside scenes, alongside vintage posters of long-since-forgotten productions. Then he pushed open a doorway and told Thomas, “After you!”

Adam’s white, metal-framed bed was heaped with quilts and cushions and Thomas wanted to grab Adam and dive at it with him in his arms. It looked antique, like the rest of the furniture, complementing the busy William Morris wallpaper.

“What a glorious room for a romp!”

“I remember how you hated my digs at RADA—you said they looked like a Turkish brothel!” Adam laughed and turned to the dresser. He took a cigarette lighter and ignited it, touching the flame to the candles that stood there, each as irregular as the next. “I’m still embracing Turkish brothel chic, though it’s a lot less damp these days!”

Just as Adam spoke, the rain began to fall hard against the windows and hiss against the sill outside.

“That rain tells me that we’re still in London.” Thomas bent to loosen his shoelaces. He kicked off his brogues and pulled off his socks. “But Turkish brothel—oh, yes, perfect for our daring actors as they explore the inner depths of their characters.”

“This doesn’t make us friends, you know, or lovers. It just means we get all that unhealthy competition out.” Thomas wasn’t sure who Adam was trying to convince, but from the need he felt and the outline of Adam’s erection in his linen trousers, it wasn’t working. “Then a simple on-stage kiss will be no challenge.”

“Oh, of course, Adam—this is textbook Stanislavski.” He began to unbutton his shirt with one hand and caught Adam around the waist with the other. “Always go to bed with other members of the cast. Even barmy old Brecht recommends it.”

Was that sarcastic enough? Thomas wondered, as he ghosted his lips across Adam’s cheek and brought them to settle on his mouth again. He felt Adam’s hands brush against his own to take over unbuttoning his shirt, felt the fabric fall away and those same palms brushing over his naked chest.

“The curtain rises,” Adam whispered against his lips. “The moon hangs low above the horizon.”

Then, his voice trailing into a breath, Adam abandoned Chekhov in favor of another kiss, even as he eased Thomas’ shirt from his shoulders and let it whisper onto the floor.

Still deep in their kiss, Thomas popped open the buttons of Adam’s shirt one by one. He slid his hand between the folds of fabric and took Adam’s hardened nipple between finger and thumb. He felt the heat of his rival’s—no—his lover’s breath, heard the hint of a whimper deep in his throat before Adam gasped, “You’ve found my weak spot, you old fox.”

~~~~

Get your copy now direct from Pride Publishing or Amazon.

~~~~

Catherine Curzon  is a historian of 18th century royalty. Her work has been featured on many platforms and she has also spoken at venues across the UK. She lives in Yorkshire atop a ludicrously steep hill.

Eleanor Harkstead likes to dash about in nineteenth-century costume, in bonnet or cravat as the mood takes her. Eleanor lives somewhere in the Midlands with a large ginger cat who resembles a Viking.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Won’t Feel a Thing by CF White

4 Feb

How lucky are we! This week we have a hot bit from Won’t Feel a Thing, Book 1 of CF White’s St. Cross series.

CFW_WontFeelaThing

About the book:

It takes more than a doctor to mend a broken heart.

Ollie Warne is fresh out of nursing school and working his dream job as a pediatric cardiology nurse at St Cross Children’s Hospital, London. He wants to start the new year free of personal heartache after his track record of falling for the wrong man–his New Year’s resolution is to live a life of carefree liaisons from now on.

He immediately meets Jacob, father of one of Ollie’s patients and a man harboring more guilt and past demons than even Ollie, which is saying something…

Their growing attraction makes it hard for Ollie to keep his distance, but he has to. Not only do the ethics of his profession demand it, but Ollie is entangled with another man–a predatory doctor who has a huge personal and professional stake in Ollie’s life.

Ollie risks more than his job by getting involved with a patient’s father–and much more than just the success of his New Year’s resolution, something that was supposed to ensure that, this time, he won’t feel a thing.

Excerpt:

“You want my opinion?”

“Yes.”

“My honest opinion?”

“Yes,” Ollie repeated. “Please.”

“Brutal honest opinion?”

Yes.

“Even if you don’t like it?”

“Even if I never want to talk to you again.” Ollie took a sharp slurp through the straw of his smoothie and winced, his glasses tipping to the end of his nose. “Until tonight, anyway.”

“Then leave well alone.”

Ollie sighed. He sucked up another mouthful of his daily fruit and veg intake, flicked back his blond hair that had lost its vigor after a twelve-hour night shift, and glanced away from Taya’s wide brown oval eyes. The eyes that signified she meant every damn word. Bitch.

“Told you.”

Taya freed her dark, waist-length hair from its curled bun and stroked it over one shoulder. She wrapped the band around her slender, dark-skinned wrist, then sipped her dainty cup of pink hot chocolate. The blue edges of her lips, caused by the freezing weather, were subsiding back to their usual reddish tinge with each guzzle of the pink cream and rainbow of chocolate candies scattered over her ridiculous, sickly concoction. She hadn’t even an offered a spoonful to him. Twelve hours straight on night shift clearly meant she needed the sugar all to herself.

“He’s not worth your time, your worry, or your respect.” She clanged the cup down onto the glass surface of the table, pulled her winter trench coat over the scrubs she hadn’t bothered to change out of, and reached for her packet of menthol slims.

“Neither are they.” Ollie pointed to the cigarettes.

Taya glared across the table. She unhooked the top of the packet, took one of the white sticks between her teeth, and lit it with her pink lighter. Blowing the smoke into the freezing cold air, she waved her hand.

“We all have our vices, Oliver.”

Ollie stuck his middle finger up. He slapped it back down and shoved it into his jacket pocket. It was freezing, and Taya had to bloody sit outside the corner coffee shop in order to smoke her way out of the trying night shift. She was right. Everyone needed their vices, especially with what he and Taya did for a living. He sighed.

“I think he needs patience.”

“He’s got plenty of those.” Taya pointed her two fingers clutching the death stick at Ollie.

“Har fricking har. Patience with a c.”

“He’s a c all right.” Taya took another drag. At Ollie’s glare, she sighed and rested her elbow on the table top. “What? He is.”

“I think you may be the only female in the entire hospital who doesn’t like him.” Ollie slurped the dregs of his raspberry-ripple smoothie and shivered. He should have gone for a hot drink, but it was hard enough to sleep during the day as it was. Caffeine would only make it infinitely more difficult.

“That’s because I know him,” Taya replied.

Urgh. Not you too?”

“Ew.” Taya grimaced around her cigarette. “No, thank you.”

Ollie leaned back in the chair. He waved a hand to waft away the smoke drifting into his face. To give her some credit, Taya was trying to blow it out of the side of her mouth to avoid him, but the icy-cold January breeze from the earlier sleet downpour blew it straight back. Ollie zipped up his puffer jacket, folded his arms, and jiggled on the cold metal chair.

“You nearly done?” He nodded to the half-full cup of violently pink chocolate.

Taya blew another puff of smoke into the air, stubbed out the remains of her cigarette, and downed the rest of her drink, leaving a foam mustache on her top lip. She licked it away. “Yeah. Home to bed, miss the snowfall, back at eight. You?”

They scraped back their chairs, and Ollie tucked a five-pound note under the ashtray for the servers. Anyone willing to come outside and serve drinks in this weather should most definitely get tips, even if his measly nurse’s wages were probably far less than those of the coffee baristas working this part of London.

“I should go see my dad,” he replied.

Taya linked her arm in with his, curling her slender fingers around his quilted sleeve. Checking both ways along the crossroads lined by independent boutiques, high-class restaurants, unconventional cafes, and health-food shops, she steered him across, narrowly missing a black cab speeding over the miniroundabout. The glass-enclosed bus stop’s bench overflowed with waiting passengers, so he stood, waiting, jiggling on his freezing toes within his inappropriate-for-the-weather slip-on loafers, and checked the time on the electric board for when the next bus was due.

“How’s he doing?” Taya asked.

“Good days and bad days.” Ollie sighed. “Keeps calling me Tilly.”

Taya tried to hold in the chuckle but failed miserably. Ollie didn’t mind so much. A good sense of humor was always best in these situations, not to mention their line of work. He pulled Taya in closer. It was fricking freezing, and snowflakes fell from the overcast sky. How would he get back to work later that night? London came to a standstill if even one flake hit any mode of public transport. Him living in the other end of the city—the cheap end—would make it all the more difficult to travel across town. On occasions, where there wasn’t a downfall, he would have cycled in. But that was out of the question with the ice on the roads. And the fact he hadn’t woken up in his own bed last night. Ollie shuddered at the memory.

“Right.” Ollie bounced to keep warm while awaiting the number 252. “It’s January. So that means New Year’s resolutions. What’s yours?”

“Quit smoking.”

“Good luck.” Ollie meant it.

Taya stuck out her tongue.

“Well, we both know mine—”

“Which you broke last night.” Taya was a bitch like that.

“I don’t believe New Year’s resolutions should start until the second week of January.” Ollie rubbed his hands together, digging Taya’s arm into his side, and wondered why he hadn’t thought to bring gloves. Ah, yes, he hadn’t had any where he’d been before his shift started. He wasn’t allowed to leave any trace of his existence there.

Riiight,” Taya said. “So that means from today, you’ll be steering clear of arsehole men?”

“Sadly, no. Unfortunately, I will no doubt encounter many of them in my time without realizing until it’s too late.”

“Amen.” Taya saluted.

Ollie wasn’t sure what the salute was about. But he wasn’t particularly religious, so maybe that was how it was done in church these days? Or temples, considering Taya’s family were Hindu.

“So what is your resolution, then?”

“No baggage,” Ollie replied.

“Baggage?”

“Yep,” Ollie confirmed.

The gleaming new red Routemaster bus edged along the narrow High Street, bumping over the speed mounds meant to slow the traffic down, which Ollie thought ridiculous as the morning rush-hour pileup tended to last all day in central London. The streets were filled with scuttling people carrying take-out coffee cups, cyclists braving the ice, and the occasional honking of a taxi horn. This time of the morning, most people were trying to get to work and not home from it like Ollie and Taya. He was never quite sure who were keener to reach their destinations.

“I don’t mind a complete arsehole—”

“Obviously.” Taya cut Ollie off with a rise of her perfectly plucked eyebrows. That new Rainbow Hot Chocolate had clearly contained one too many e-numbers and sent her loopy. That and the long night shift. Not that she hadn’t been a little bit loopy to begin with.

“Ha-ha.” Ollie pushed her forehead. “Like, I can handle a dickhead—”

“We all know.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ollie muttered. “No more white hot chocolate with pink dye for you, okay?”

“Sorry.” Taya pressed her lips together. She rose up on her tiptoes to check on the bus’s progress but needn’t have worried as it had traveled all of a millimeter since the start of their conversation. At this rate Ollie might get home in time to have a shower and come straight back.

“What I mean is—”

“You don’t want a man who can’t commit because of circumstance,” Taya finished for him.

Ollie was capable of finishing his own sentences, but Taya was getting warm from flapping her lips, so he allowed it. “Exactly. I’m married to my job. I love my job. Therefore, I should have the occasional fling and become the arsehole myself.” He pointed a finger at Taya. “Don’t fricking say it.”

Taya shrugged and mimed zipping her lips up.

“What do we nurses say on the daily?”

“No, you can’t have McDonald’s?”

“Not that one.”

“You’re going to feel a little prick?”

Ollie sniggered. “Not that one either.”

“Oh, I know. It’s, of course I’ll change your TV channel for you—it’s not like I have anything better to do with my time?”

“No! I mean the big one: you won’t feel a thing.”

Taya nodded. “So?”

“So, my resolution is to no longer feel a thing.”

“Good luck.” Taya smiled. Bitch.

The bus pulled up, and Ollie jogged on the spot, waiting for the doors to open. They hissed to the side, and even though he and Taya were standing correctly at the hop-on part of the Routemaster with the exit farther along the double decker, a tall man with floppy dark hair jumped straight off and bashed Ollie’s arm as he rushed up the High Street, heading toward the gleaming glass frontage of St. Cross Children’s Hospital.

“Ouch.” Ollie pouted and rubbed his arm.

“Ha!” Taya jumped the step onto the bus.

“What?”

Amusement shimmered across Taya’s face as she bleeped her Oyster card onto the yellow reader. “You just felt something.”

“Oh, bog off.”

~~~~~

Get your copy now at Loose Id or Amazon.

CF White was brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave.

Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly searches for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee.

She eventually moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family.

Find CF on Twitter and Facebook.

 

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Now or Never by Isabelle Drake

31 Dec

Happy New Year! We’re kicking off 2018 with a bit from Now or Never, Book 1 in Isabelle Drake’s sexy Washington DC series, Invitations.

nowornever_800

Book Blurb:

Dressed as a sex slave and hiding behind a mask, Emily arrives at a costume party ready to make a former co-worker pay for not noticing her lush curves.

Emily grabs the opportunity to make a former co-worker she fantasised about before leaving for the US Peace Corps pay for not noticing her lush curves. Her goal—blow his mind with her sex slave seduction and leave him aching for more.

Wearing a borrowed costume and mask, Daniel accepts the offer of a woman eager to show him what she can do with the sheer scarves she’s untying from her waist. His goal—make sure the woman undressing for him knows how incredible she is and understands that he isn’t a one-night-only kind of man.

Excerpt:

“I’m not here to waste time,” she whispered.

“What are you here to do?”

“You’re the Master, you tell me.”

Her breasts, her neck, her sweet shoulders—where would he put his mouth first?

While he was musing over that dilemma, a lavender scarf appeared in her hands.

She wrapped it around his forearm, the cool silk caressing the sensitive area on the underside of his wrist. “Give you any ideas?”

Speechless, he nodded, watching as she slipped it away, knotted it around her wrist then handed him an end.

“I have more in my bag.” She swung her small bag playfully, then flattened her palm to her stomach. “And another one holding up my skirt.”

With his free hand, Daniel grabbed the sash around her waist, pulling her to him so she could feel the solid length of his fully erect dick. “You sure we both want the same thing?”

She smiled, curling her fingers over the slippery fabric of his pants and grasping his shaft. “You’re not wasting any time either, are you?”

“Actually,” he said, “I was thinking we were both wasting time standing here playing word games. I have a room at a B and B”—he nodded towards the edge of Gino’s lot—“that way, through the trees.”

Daniel turned, wondering if anyone would see him pulling the harem girl away then question Randall about the catch, but no one was paying any attention to them.

The only people in sight were a giant cactus making a big deal out of trying to hug a woman dressed as an oasis.

Museum people.

Really.

He stepped farther into the wooded area, gently tugging the girl away from the crowd, into the darkness swelling among the trees. As they moved from the party, he could hear the light jingling of the bells and the gentle pant of her breath as she hurried to keep up with him.

Sure, Daniel had seen porn where people were tied up but he’d never had any experience with it himself. It had always struck him as one of those scenarios that was fun to watch  but wouldn’t really appeal to him in real life. With the silk-wrapped girl trailing behind him, he was beginning to think he’d been very wrong about himself.

He glanced back, and she looked up with a smile that faltered when she stumbled on a cluster of sticks.

He reached for her before she completely lost her footing, only to have her tumble into his arms. Without the use of her left arm, she’d nearly fallen. Working to right herself, she twisted in his arms. His fingers skimmed across the swells of her breasts, the smoothness of her stomach, then the lush curves of her hips.

By the time she’d finally stopped struggling to get her footing, she was pressed against him, breathing hard. He admired the sharp rise and fall of her rib cage. Her jacket had slipped to her elbows and the flimsy fabric of her top had fallen away, revealing one lush, round tit shoved up by the corset.

Instead of shrinking away, or grabbing the front of her shirt to conceal herself, she lifted her free hand to cup her heavy mound and offer it to him, whispering, “Master?”

The need to possess her was familiar, a predictable response to a sexy woman offering herself to him, but it was the single-minded desire to dominate her that caught him off guard and took his breath away. It was as though she already belonged to him. Not in reality, but in his dreams.

“For you,” she said, filling his silence and pushing the gauze away to reveal the other gorgeous breast. “Do whatever you want.”

The shouts and laughter of Gino’s party carried in the fall wind, reminding Daniel that he’d only just met this girl.

Then why did he feel so connected to her, as though he knew her?

She tugged the sash from his grip, shimmying to let her jacket fall to the ground, then wrapped the end around her other wrist. Her bare skin shone in the night, her nipples tightening to stiff points. The temptation to taste them was irresistible.

He covered one nipple with his mouth as he reached around to grasp her hips and pull her to him. She responded instantly, arching back and shoving more of herself into his mouth with a satisfied sigh.

His cock tensed, then throbbed, the tip pulsing with a need that intensified each time she moaned, soft and sexy. The girl was so hot, so ready. He grabbed her ass and squeezed and she purred against him, instantly spreading her legs as though she’d been waiting for his touch.

But her giving in to him wasn’t enough. He needed her to touch him, taste him, to want something from him as well.

With three sharp tugs, he freed her hands and tossed the scrap of fabric to the ground.

*****

Get Now or Never, first in the Invitations series, on Kindle, Google, Barnes & Noble, or direct from Totally Bound for only .99.

*****

Isabelle Drake got her start writing confession stories for pulp magazines like True Confessions and True Love. Since publishing those first few stories she has written in multiple genres, earned and MFA in Creative Writing and became an English & Writing Professor. When away from her keyboard, she watches films, especially classic noir, horror and romance, and reads (of course). An avid traveler, she’ll go just about anywhere–at least once–to meet people and get ideas.

Find Isabelle as Isabelle Drake on Facebook, Youtube and Goodreads & @isabelledrake on Instagram, Twitter and Tumblr & isadrake on Snapchat.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: A Christmas Dramedy by Carrie Lomax

24 Dec

How perfect is this? Today we have a snippet from Carrie Lomax’s A Christmas Dramedy.

CarrieLomax_HolidayHeatCover

About the book:

One Unforgettable Christmas Week
A broken engagement.
An ill-advised fling.
A reality-TV-inspired dating contest.

A competition between one woman’s heart and her head — with her future on the line.

The Bachelorette
Alyssa Carlisle arrives home for the holidays nursing a fresh Christmas Eve heartbreak. A hookup with her hot neighbor seems like the perfect rebound. He’s never looked her way, but Marc De Luna’s just what she needs: a no-strings attached, super sexy vacation fling.

She never thought he’d want more.

The (Play) Boy Next Door
Marc’s had it bad for his aloof, ambitious neighbor ever since her family moved in. Her engagement to a rich boyfriend was enough to send him packing for an extended trip — anywhere — as long as it’s far away from any reminder of Alyssa. Now that he’s is out of the picture, Marc ‘s not about to pass up his chance to claim her as his own.

When her ex makes an unexpected appearance, Marc’s got a fight on his hands — and he’ll do whatever it takes to win.

Excerpt:

“I ought to let my family know I’m still alive. I disappeared last night.”

“Oh, they know,” Marc replied, kissing her forehead as he pulled her into his arms. “My mom texted me this morning saying she was worried about you. I told her you’re with me. I’m sure they’re planning the wedding already.”

Alyssa buried her face in his shoulder. “Oh, fuck. This is going to be awkward.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” He went quiet. “Listen, you said something yesterday about being here for the week. I’m not looking for a week.”

Alyssa’s heart sank. Great. He might have another girl lined up already.

Marc kissed her temple. “Aly, I don’t want you thinking I do this with just anyone. I’d given that up ages ago.”

She nodded, though didn’t believe him any more than she believed in the Easter Bunny. His own mother had once commented that Marc treated girls like an all-you-can-eat buffet. Alyssa had seen plenty of women lining up to be brunch over the years, and she hadn’t lived here in almost ten years.

“Flattery will get you anywhere with me,” she replied flippantly, grinning. Marc was a genuinely considerate guy, the polar opposite of Zach. She hadn’t gotten to know him because she’d always been so intent on avoiding her hot neighbor.

Alyssa quit resisting her base instincts and kissed him in the sunshine as if they were the only two people in the world, her pale skin contrasting sharply with his dark tan. Probably ought to think about sunscreen, eventually.

His fingers threaded through her hair, setting it free to whip around her face. In response, Alyssa tugged his shirt over his head.

“No fair.” He responded by pulling up the shirt he’d loaned her. Alyssa shrugged it aside. He cupped her breasts with his big hands. Then he took one in his mouth and nibbled gently on the tip. Alyssa sighed and curved against him.

When he thumbed open the button on the shorts he’d loaned her, she slid off his lap and kicked them off. Marc had pulled off his shirt and quickly discarded the rest of his clothes before rolling on a condom.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised.

She nodded. Naked, Alyssa slid over him, her body extra-sensitive from the night before. Marc was as good as his word, moving slowly and focused on everything except where their bodies were joined. He let her set the pace. She was too sore to take his entire cock at first, but the more he teased and touched everything above her waist, the more her body accepted. They found their pleasure with no audience but the sun, the sea, and the sky.

An hour later, Marc steered the sailboat into its slip at the marina. They held hands as they strolled to his truck. When she asked about it, he told her he’d caught a ride with his brother to his parents’ house the day before.

Alyssa fidgeted with the shirt hem sticking out from the seatbelt. The loaner clothes were as good as a billboard about where she’d gone and what she’d been doing. Yet there was no point in trading them for her wrinkled dress, since last night wasn’t exactly a secret. The knowledge didn’t help her shoulders stay straight or calm her pounding heart as Marc parked on the street between their driveways, as though staking out a space in the middle of their families.

He took her hand. “We’ll go in together. It’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah, I know.” She squeezed his hand back. There was no reason for nerves. Yet she stepped out with an unshakable sense of foreboding.

A breeze coursed through the cab of the truck. Her dress fluttered like a captive butterfly on its hanger behind her. The screen door of her parents’ house opened.

Her eyes narrowed at the man-shape. In a flash her stomach iced over. No, it can’t be.

“What the fuck is this?” Zach, her ex, exploded. The screen door jumped back on its hinges.

Alyssa cringed but stood her ground. “What are you doing here?”

“We were supposed to celebrate our engagement with your family this week, remember? I changed my ticket.”

“I…” Oh holy shit.

*****

Get your Kindle copy now!

*****

Carrie Lomax grew up in the Midwest before moving to New York City for 15 years. She lives in Maryland with two budding readers and her real-life romantic hero. Hit her up to find out what else she has in the works: carrie@carrielomax.com

 

 

%d bloggers like this: