« Older Entries Subscribe to Latest Posts

22 Oct 2014

Halloween Read: Blood and Lotuses

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

Book cover for BLOOD AND LOTUSES (attractive Asian man and woman with swords)

I write paranormal romances, which are full of supernatural activity, but I’m not exactly the Queen of Terror. You know when you’re reading a romance, everything’s going to turn out all right in the end. Frightening things may happen, there may be near-death experiences, and secondary characters may even perish, but you know the hero(es) and heroine(s) will get their HEA. It’s a law of the genre.

Fantasy’s a different game. Really awful things can happen in fantasy, and there’s nothing that says you can’t inflict these horrors on your main characters. (Anyone who watches Game of Thrones or has read the wonderful, but incredibly dark books by George R.R. Martin on which it’s based knows this to be true.)

I’m a romance writer at heart, and as a fantasy fan, I was raised on Tolkein, where destruction is balanced by tremendous personal heroism. In the long run, I can’t write something something as downright tragic and horrifying as Mr. Martin. Yet. But there was something tremendously liberating about writing Blood and Lotuses, where I felt free to have bad things happen to good people and to get as explicit with violence as I usually am with sex.

And yet in the long run, this book is about the redeeming power of love, which makes a perfect Halloween read. Like the holiday itself, it’s frightening, but with a healthy side order of hope. (Halloween, after all, derives from All Souls’ Day, which is all about life after death and our connection to our dead ancestors.)

When love is outlawed, only the bravest lovers can defeat an inhuman foe.

A demon in the guise of a goddess is “purifying” the great city of Dakura by killing off its stores of love, desire, and beauty. Once the city is void of color and passion, the demon can claim the city for its base to conquer the whole mortal world.

Anchali, a priestess of the goddess of love and desire, infiltrates the temple of the false goddess, along with her reluctant guardian Thanom, a soldier whose wife was murdered in a demon-inspired purge. They’re hoping to get information to pass on to a rebel general who hopes to roust the cult from Dakura. What they find, though, tells them this isn’t a job for warriors.

It’s a job for lovers, using the power of passion to enact an ancient ritual.

Anchali can perform the ritual. But first she has to convince a broken-hearted man to love again.

Compared to that, defeating a demon is child’s play.

Warning: Contains more explicit violence and less explicit sex than usual in a Teresa Noelle Roberts novel, along with all the magic and romance you’ve come to expect.

Excerpt (showing some of that explicit violence):

In an almost-cool hour of the night, when the heat of one day had finally faded and the swelter of the next had not yet struck, the demon Nshlic’s first victim woke with a start in the child-brothel.

For the time it took to draw a breath, the dockworker Beyun felt about as good as a man could possibly feel, aglow with the memory of the night’s near-perfect combination of scamming money, drinking, and whoring, and the possibility, based on the warm, sticky little forms curled up next to him, of the last of the three starting all over again.

Then his dreams slammed back into him and he realized that everything in his life was wrong.

The boy and girl Beyun had rented for the night, sensing his movements, began cooing and stroking at him even before they were fully awake. He shook them roughly off.

“Sinners!” Beyun cried, his voice rough from drink and barbed with dreams. Then he looked down at his own naked body. “As I am, too.” He grabbed his knife from the bedside table. “Sinners, do you repent?”

The two young whores looked at one another, then nodded, wide-eyed. They had grown up in the brothels of Dakura, and placating the customers, however odd their desires, was second nature. “Oh, we repent.” The girl, perhaps thirteen or so with the start of a woman’s curves, subtly gestured at the somewhat younger boy, but not so subtly that Beyun didn’t pick up on it. He’d learned when he was younger than these whores to pay attention to his surroundings, because you never knew when someone might be sneaking up on you.

“We’re due for some praying, I’m sure,” the girl continued, her voice high and frantic. “We’ll go ’round to the temple of Pichitra with you, soon as you let us grab our clothes.” As she spoke, the boy slithered down between the wall and the bed and began crawling for the door to get the bouncer.

“Not that whore-goddess Pichitra,” Beyun said, although some part of his brain wondered why. He’d always been partial to the temples of Pichitra. Pichitra’s Chosen were sweet-smelling and pretty and brightly colored as birds, and their charity meals came with a nice hot chili sauce and even a bit of mango or green papaya, not just rice and bland vegetables like the gray-clad, quiet Chosen of Jananya dished out. Still, he said, “we go to the temple of Jananya.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the boy had almost reached the door. Beyun wheeled around, threw his knife, aiming for the door just above the boy’s head.

Since Beyun had made the money he’d spent for the evening’s extravagant entertainment in a knife-throwing contest, using that very knife, he should have done what he intended: scare the boy into staying put while he gave the oration that was filling his soul.

The knife swerved and struck the boy through the heart.

The girl opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Soundlessly, she dropped to her knees and pressed her face against her dead friend.

Beyun started to panic. He hadn’t meant to kill anyone. He was supposed to be repenting, changing his life for the better. And now this… He’d done plenty of wicked things and he knew it was bad he liked to go to the child-brothels sometimes instead of the brothels with grown women and men, which were bad enough. But killing someone who wasn’t trying to hurt him was worse than anything he’d done before.

Then a great calm filled him, the kind he’d heard pious people saying came with meditation and jhang addicts say came with smoking just the right amount.

The boy’s death wasn’t his fault. It couldn’t have been his fault.

Beyun knew knives. Beyun knew all about knives, and how they behaved, and what could go wrong if you played with them carelessly. What had just happened was impossible.

Therefore, it was the will of Jananya—a sign, a lesson.

And he knew what he had to do to fix the child and in the process, fix his own messed-up, sinful life.

Beyun knelt down beside the two young whores, the living one and the dead. “Do you repent?” he asked the girl, putting his hand gently on her head. She nodded mutely, her almond eyes terrified but her young face otherwise expressionless, frozen with shock.

She probably didn’t repent, not yet. She was just scared, more scared than he’d wanted her to be.

“You don’t have too much to repent, I suppose,” he said, as softly as he could. “I mean, you and your friend were whores and all, but that’s because the world’s an awful place and it dragged you down before you had a chance to do better, just because you needed a way to put rice in your belly. The goddess understands that. But me, I’m a sinner, an evil man. Bear witness for me.” He retrieved the knife from the still-twitching corpse. “I repent my sins, Jananya, and sever myself from temptation!”

He knew what he had to do. The goddess told him in his dreams, but he’d forgotten until just now.

With one blow, without hesitation or flinching, he sliced off his own genitals.

 

Buy it on Amazon.

17 Oct 2014

Halloween Read: Threshing the Grain

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

Cover of dark fantasy romance Thresing the Grain

(This post is revised from a previous year, because I’m in a hurry.)

I don’t write much that classifies as horror, but if you want a spooky dark fantasy romance with magic and kinky ancient erotic rituals that combat actual demons, Threshing the Grain might be your perfect Halloween read.  It’s the autumn/harvest season installment of the Seasons of Sorania Cycle, and it riffs off my adolescent reading of The Golden Bough, which is not about happy-fluffy-modern neopaganism, but the sometimes violent original.

And did I mention a loving couple who risks everything to save others? And sex? Male-dom sex, female-dom sex, magical sex with satyrs, and the magical sex between two people who love each other deeply.

Ruined Roman temple (temple of Augustus in Ostia Antica) with dark umbrella pins

Excerpt:

The sight of Miryea’s body naked and offered up before him like a feast was pretty much irresistible. Hells, her scent–and not the musk of her arousal, even, but simply the smell of her skin, permeated with sharp medicinal herbs that were as much a part of her as that sea-musk of desire–was irresistible.

But he knew what she had dreamed. Knew it in vivid, gory detail.

The blood. The gelding knife. The power rising as the victim’s life ebbed.

As his life ebbed.

No. Don’t think about it.

That particular memory, of the night in his twelfth year where the dreams had turned from frightening spectacle to something more intimately horrifying, was not one for revisiting. At least the dreams had stopped altogether after a few awful nights of experiencing his own ritual death. Shortly after that he’d started having much more pleasant dreams involving naked girls, as if his childhood terrors insisted on one last bit of fun with him before he moved toward manhood and they lost his grip on him. But he wasn’t going let slip that he’d dreamed his own death, to either of the important women in his life. It wasn’t merely that it would call forth his mother’s superstitious Kulchu side or frighten Miryea unnecessarily, although he was sure it would do both.

Talking about it would make it too real. Too much like a prophecy and not a fear born of childhood and the night, dismissible, even laughable, in the light of day and maturity.

Hells, he was thinking it about it, wasn’t he? Worse, he was thinking about it hard enough that Miryea, distracted as she was by her own concerns and his touch, sensed it. She cocked her head and stared at him, her forehead wrinkled with concern. He knew that look. She was about half a breath away from saying, “What’s wrong?”

Adimir shook his head, trying to shake off the memories like he’d shake off a persistent bug. It didn’t entirely work, but it returned his attention back to the sweet, soft feminine curves under his hands, the heat of Miryea’s skin, the way her curls tickled him when the evening breeze passing through the shutters caught them.

If he focused on her, on her pleasure, it would only do them both good.

He kissed her, and this time, after a second, her lips softened and parted for him. Her breath was sweet and spicy, from the candied fennel seeds she’d chewed after dinner, and when he slipped his tongue between her lips, hers began to dance with it.

Still gentle, almost tentative, but she was definitely relaxing and enjoying at last. So was he, for that matter.

Good.

He kissed her until they needed to pause for breath, and by then Miryea’s face was prettily flushed, her eyes less frantic than they had been. A good start, but there was still a long way to go. While patience where sex was concerned had never been Adimir’s strongest virtue, his own dark mood would make it easier to wait, to draw out her pleasure and bring her to blissful exhaustion. He kissed his way down her throat, paying special attention to the sensitive area near her ear, and from there to her collarbone. Feather light there at first, just on the border between pleasurable and tickling, until she was squirming a little and making a noise that was half gasp and half giggle.

Then he bit down, gently at first and then less so, and sucked on the tender flesh. He would mark her as his, under his protection. The spirits of the night would have him to answer to if they messed with his Miryea.

What he’d do against spirits was another question. Swords, not spells, were his weapons, and they weren’t much use against things you couldn’t see or touch. But the primitive streak that reveled in seeing his marks on Miryea’s body and crowed, “Mine, mine, mine!” whenever he looked at her didn’t worry about such niceties.

Her body arched, quivered.

Good. She was feeling it. And whether “it” was his passion, his possessiveness or his determination to protect her didn’t much matter, as long it worked. As long as it got her mind off the nightmares and into the moment.

He kissed down her breastbone and nuzzled the sweet valley between her breasts. Nipped at the ripe, creamy swells, first one and then the other. She yelped the first time and made a very different noise the second time, and put her slender, strong arms around him then, tangling her fingers in his hair.

“You want me to spend more time here?” he asked, keeping his voice nonchalant and lazy. He’d had every intention of doing so anyway, but knowing how much she wanted it increased his pleasure.

“Yes. Please.” A breath’s worth of hesitation, and then she added, “I don’t want to think tonight, Adimir. I can’t bear to think tonight. Keep me from thinking.”

“I’ll do my best, little rabbit.” And we’ll both be better off for it. Because if you’re not thinking, chances are I won’t be either, and I’m not over-fond of where my mind wanders these early autumn days when I let it out alone.

Buy at:

Phaze / Amazon US / Amazon UK /All Romance Ebooks

 

7 Oct 2014

Cougar’s Courage–out in paperback today!

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

book cover for Cougar's Courage

(Note: this is a slightly revised recycling of a post I did on the Samhain blog when Cougar’s Courage came out as an ebook. It’s out as a print book today–and I still think this post says something important about the book.)

When Cougar’s Courage released as an ebook, a few people commented on how happy they were to see a Native American hero. This confused me for a second because I don’t think of Jack as being Native American. Despite the name. Despite being portrayed on the cover by Rick Mora, who certainly is Native American. Despite his appearance, which I described as “Long, straight black hair, bronze skin, the cheekbones of doom. He looked pure First Nations, only his eyes, instead of the dark brown she’d have expected, were amber. Body of a god.”

Rick Mora with husky. Rick is wearing an open vest. We envy the husky.

This is an example of how an author’s brain works. My heroine, Cara, is part Native American, though she inherited her white father’s fair hair. (In case you’re wondering about the genetics there, it is possible. I had a blonde friend whose husband was a Mohawk. Her children had her light hair and their father’s features and complexion. Their beauty inspired Cara.) Jack, though…Jack is a cougar dual whose humanlike wordside form resembles a Native American. Since he’s not human, though, Jack isn’t part of a tribe or nation. His culture isn’t that of any tribe that’s ever existed in the real North America. Therefore, he’s not actually “Native American.” He’s a cougar dual. That’s his ethnic identity. And in the context of the book, that’s a much bigger deal than the color of his wordside skin.

Native American cougar shamanic mask (Pacific Northwest)

Native American cougar shamanic mask (Pacific Northwest)

Similarly, Jude in Lions’ Pride appears African American, but part of the time, he’s a large, black-maned lion. He identifies far more with Panthera leo than he does with Homo sapiens of any race or ethnicity—but mostly he identifies as a dual. It only matters that he appears to be a black man when they’re on the lam and his distinctive appearance (he’s not only black in a largely white area, but he’s extremely tall and model gorgeous) becomes a bit conspicuous.

Akane, the heroine of Foxes’ Den, likes traditional Japanese clothing and has some of the mannerisms and affectations of a Japanese woman. But sometimes she looks and acts like a modern Japanese college student, sometimes like an aristocratic lady from an earlier century. She perfected passing as human due to years magically trapped in human form, and since most of that time was spent in Japan, she comes off as from that culture. But she’s a kitsune, an immortal fox shape-shifter, and she’s most comfortable in a hybrid form: almost human, but with fox ears and not one but three glorious tails.

I love a well-executed interracial romance. My list of future projects includes several books that would fit that description. But despite the interracial couples on the covers of several Duals and Donovans books, and despite the fact that the couples have to negotiate issues that grow out of being from different cultures, I can’t in good conscience call these interracial romances. They’re interspecies romances, set in a paranormal world where prejudices about the color of one’s skin are superseded by prejudices about whether you can change your shape or use magic.

And where your new boyfriend’s grandmother just might be an ancient nature spirit.

Blurb: Toronto cop Cara Many-Winters Mackenzie is still reeling from her fiancé’s murder when her orderly life takes a turn toward the weird, complete with voices in her head and phantom bleeding wounds.

This violent awakening is the rise of her Different gift—a chaotic, Bugs-Bunny-on-crack magic that she must learn to control before it destroys her. There’s only one place to get help: her mother’s ancestral village, and a mentor who seems to have stepped straight out of the smoke of her erotic dreams.

Cougar Dual Jack Long-Claw reluctantly agrees to take Cara under his wing, though he’d much rather take the beautiful city girl into his bed. As he guides her through a crash course in shamanic magic, sparks fly—some sexy, some snarky. But when an ancient enemy attacks the village, they must work together to hone a magical weapon against certain destruction.

Common sense tells them it’s a terrible time to fall in love. Their spirit guides have other ideas. And shamans who don’t listen to their spirit guides are dead shamans…

Warning: Hot shape-shifting feline hero. Strong but shell-shocked heroine. Snarky, meddling spirit guides. And lots and lots of sex: angry sex, crazy sex, magical sex, and just plain sexy sex.

 

Buy links for the e-book:

Amazon/Kobo/Samhain /B&N

Buy links for the paperback:

Amazon /B&N /Samhain

6 Oct 2014

More hot, magical sex from Cougar’s Courage for Masturbation Monday

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. 3 Comments

CougarsCouragesmaller

Cougar’s Courage (Duals and Donovans: the Different, Book 3) is a paranormal romance, with a sexy cougar shapeshifter hero and a shaman-in-training heroine. Both the magic and the hero’s animal side show up in the excerpt below. The book’s out in print on 10/7/14 (tomorrow!), so I thought I’d share a little hot shapeshifter sex. This picks up at the end of the excerpt I posted last week.

Blurb: Toronto cop Cara Many-Winters Mackenzie is still reeling from her fiancé’s murder when her orderly life takes a turn toward the weird, complete with voices in her head and phantom bleeding wounds.

This violent awakening is the rise of her Different gift—a chaotic, Bugs-Bunny-on-crack magic that she must learn to control before it destroys her. There’s only one place to get help: her mother’s ancestral village, and a mentor who seems to have stepped straight out of the smoke of her erotic dreams.

Cougar Dual Jack Long-Claw reluctantly agrees to take Cara under his wing, though he’d much rather take the beautiful city girl into his bed. As he guides her through a crash course in shamanic magic, sparks fly—some sexy, some snarky. But when an ancient enemy attacks the village, they must work together to hone a magical weapon against certain destruction.

Common sense tells them it’s a terrible time to fall in love. Their spirit guides have other ideas. And shamans who don’t listen to their spirit guides are dead shamans…

Warning: Hot shape-shifting feline hero. Strong but shell-shocked heroine. Snarky, meddling spirit guides. And lots and lots of sex: angry sex, crazy sex, magical sex, and just plain sexy sex.

“Show me, then. Now.” She heard the words from across the universe, on some level knowing they were right, as if she was being guided. Though if she was being guided right now, it was by the spirit of Marilyn Monroe or Mata Hari or some dead porn star who’d really liked her work.

Remembering the dream, she imagined they’d wind up in the bed, under the layers of blankets and furs.

Instead, Jack leaned her against the table.

The next part was like the dream, though. He slammed into her from behind with no hesitation, no elegance, nothing but pure sex. Hard, hot hands gripped her hips, and the table’s unfinished surface, worn smooth by years of use, sent energy through her hands, the energy of well-loved, much-used wood. Her hands looked odd on the table. That classy-looking ring wasn’t her usual style. There was a story there, a reason she was wearing it, but she couldn’t remember it.

Then Jack did something clever with his hips, and she forgot the question. Forgot her own name and his. Forgot everything except pleasure.

Under the forces of the fucking, she slammed into the table edge hard enough that she’d have bruises, but right now that added something, as did her nipples brushing the cool, slightly rough surface. Her pussy hadn’t recovered completely from the first orgasm, and it clenched and clamped on the hard cock ripping into her. It was violence disguised as sex or sex disguised as violence. It was just what she needed after slinking things that weren’t really wolves, and blood on the snow and the shape of a man where an animal had been.

She couldn’t say when she started coming. She only knew she didn’t stop, not even after Jack drove his nails into her hips and snarled his inarticulate pleasure into the sudden stillness.

He carried her to the bed, laid her down with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the rough sex, crawled in beside her.

He traced his finger around the scar on her shoulder, still smeared with dried blood from where it had opened earlier. “Bullet?” he asked quietly.

“Line of duty,” she responded.

“Most of my fighting’s been in cougar form. The scars don’t carry over.”

“I know.” She nodded gravely. “I remember examining you for scars… No, that was a dream.” Her brain was curiously fuzzy. None of the sharp pain that preceded an episode, but something felt odd, and it wasn’t just post-amazing-sex warm fuzzies.

“You dreamed me too?”

“Yes.”

“Very explicit dreams?”

“Hell, yeah.” She grinned lazily. “For about two weeks, as soon as I knew I had to come here.”

“I knew you had this scar. Knew how you got it. Know that you and your partner reached the shooter too late to stop a multiple murder.”

There was only one thing to say to that. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit. Because you know what the dreams failed to mention?” He picked up her right hand. “This fucking ring. The one I managed to look right though. You’re engaged?”

Memories of Phil flooded her. Her stomach heaved. “Was engaged. Phil’s dead. He was killed almost five months ago—carjacking. I should have been with him, and I wasn’t, and it haunts me constantly. But I swear I forgot him when you touched me. I could only think about you.” She held her breath. It sounded so lame, and yet it was true.

“I saw the ring.” The bitter edge on Jack’s voice could have cut her, but she knew it wasn’t directed at her. At himself, and maybe at something else, but not at her. “I should have asked questions, found out if you were engaged or if it had been your mom’s ring or something harmless. Instead, I grabbed you and didn’t let go. That’s not like me. And I bet this isn’t like you.”

“Even if I was ready for a relationship or a fling or whatever, I don’t normally fuck people I just met. Flirt, sure. Fuck, no.”

Jack rolled out of bed. “We’re being manipulated, pushed together. Spontaneous is one thing, but this was crazy. Usually I say a few sweet, sexy things before I screw someone senseless.”

“Crazy fun, but crazy. I honestly forgot Phil. How could I…”

“Magic.” He ducked and grabbed the blanket he’d abandoned on the floor. “Maybe someone wants us to be together, no matter what we think about it. Grand-mère’s eager for me to settle down, and I’m sure she’d love you to stay in Couguar-Caché. Or it could be something much worse.”

 

Buy links for the ebook:

Amazon/Kobo/Samhain /B&N

Buy links for the paperback:

Amazon /B&N /Samhain

 

Reads "Masturbation Monday: where getting off is half the fun"

While this is a fairly mild post for Masturbation Monday, it’s part of the blog hop . Find others here.

 

2 Oct 2014

Cover Reveal: Jenna Fox’s Conceiving Evil

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. 1 Comment

Book cover for novel Conceiving Evil by Jenna Fox

Welcome Jenna Fox. She’s here to introduce her soon-to-be-released (October 16) book Conceiving Evil. It sounds fascinating and a bit different from the usual erotic fare we see here. Naughtiness abounds, but so does more than a hint of darkness and horror themes.

In a World Full of Hopelessness, He Was Her Savior

Like everyone else after the economic crash, Abby Torrance was struggling financially. But then Dorian Lincoln, a political and business icon, sweeps her off her feet and into a life of promise. He’s a man who has enough power to change the world for the better, a man who can give hope to the masses, a man who can give Abby a baby.

But the road to Hell is paved with good intentions and Abby is having strange dreams that seem both a warning and a prophesy. How can she give the evil undertones of her dreams any notice when she’s busy focusing on conceiving?

Light BDSM and horror themes. Includes flogging.

Conceiving Evil Teaser (5)

Pre order Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Conceiving-Evil-Jenna-Fox-ebook/dp/B00N4KQK9S/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1410020103&sr=1-1&keywords=conceiving+evil

Release date: October 16th by Dark Hollows Press

Author: Jenna Fox: http://www.jennafoxwrites.blogspot.com

 

Good Reads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7143988.Jenna_Fox

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Jenna-Fox/e/B00DHL9N9I/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_

Excerpt:

Dammit to hell. I can’t even enjoy a movie.

The nighttime air bit at my skin as thoughts of him chomped at my brain. He’d polluted me like a poison that spread throughout my mind and body, seizing every thought, leaving no rest. I loved horror movies and yet I couldn’t recall a single scene. Jimmie kept glancing at me, concern etching his face all the way through the ninety-minute show.

Soon Jimmie and I walked out of the theater, my hand resting in the crook of his elbow. Bitterness raged inside, heating my face against the breeze when I saw the limo roll toward us. He found me like he always said he would, but three fucking hours late.

I knew I wasn’t Dorian’s top priority, and I’d made some progress at keeping my jealousy under control, but no woman wanted to be shoved to the side every time it was convenient for a man. I tightened my grip on Jimmie’s sleeve and pulled him along just as the driver stepped into our path. I gave the chauffeur a shotgun-glare as he motioned me to the car. “Miss Torrance, Mr. Lincoln is waiting.”

My heart skipped ten beats, I couldn’t tear my eyes away when the dark window lowered and Dorian tousled his ebony hair with his fingers. He wasn’t in his usual attire, a business suit. Tonight he presented himself in casual wear. His sharp, handsome features were expressionless.

I closed my eyes, digging deep for the strength to tell him to get lost for standing me up, but I knew the words would never make it past my lips. I was a fool to entertain the thought. One look from those black eyes sifted me like wheat. Dorian practically owned me. That man was my tempter and my savior wrapped into one.

I met him at the lowest point of my life, after my mother died of cancer. The three jobs I was working to keep my head above water and pay off her medical bills were about to do me in physically. While I was waiting tables at the country club, Dorian swooped in from out of nowhere and rescued me like an injured bird. His amazing sixth sense alerted him that life was too much for me, and he offered me a strong shoulder to cry on. The floodgates opened and I unloaded my personal problems. Dorian Lincoln promised those problems would disappear with a simple acceptance of his proposition: give him power over my body, something Bianca wouldn’t allow.

Lifting my palm to Jimmie’s cheek, I smiled. “Thanks for the movie. I’ll call you next week.”

“He’s a prick. You deserve better, Abby!” Jimmie yelled, as I eased myself inside the limo.

Dorian opened a small refrigerator under the seat, his hands cupping the base of a champagne glass. “You’ve wasted no time finding another way of entertaining yourself this evening.”

“You wasted no time in standing me up,” I scoffed.

When I left his office that afternoon, Dorian said he wanted me for some ‘quality time.’ Eight-thirty rolled around before I realized he was a no-show. The food got cold and eventually the long stemmed candles I lit for dinner burned out, along with my patience.

“Meetings…clients,” he said.

Top secret meetings and clients were always the excuse. The coldness in his voice was a sword to my heart, a reminder of my temporary ranking in his life. I held on tight to his promise of our relationship becoming more when the time was right.

His stony expression broke into a devious grin. “You look beautiful in that dress and your enthusiasm is charming. But watching you masturbate will reimburse me, Miss Torrance.”

My stomach dropped and quivered as I pressed my thighs together. He was going to punish me.

I tugged at the straps of the red shoes he’d bought me, eyeing him as he sipped from the flute and moved his gaze toward the window. Overtaken by the need to be the object of his fascination, I almost begged him to turn those onyx eyes back on me. His attention was the only thing that kept me from going under.

“Dorian, please I-”

My words were cut off with the sharp turn of his head. Relief came in a warm caress, but suspicion moved in with a lift of his brow. The small amount of light coming through the tinted windows deepened the masculine angles of his face, lending them a sternness that echoed in his voice.

“No other men. I thought I was quite clear about that when we discussed the terms of our agreement, three months ago.”

“Jimmie is just a friend.”

“Jimmie is a man. A distraction.”

“A distraction from being pissed. I don’t like being stood up.”

29 Sep 2014

Sexy Excerpt: Cougar’s Courage

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. 5 Comments

CougarsCouragesmallerCougar’s Courage (Duals and Donovans: the Different, Book 3) is a paranormal romance, with a sexy cougar shapeshifter hero and a shaman-in-training heroine. Both the magic and the hero’s animal side show up in the excerpt below. The book’s out in print on 10/7/14, so I thought I’d share a little hot shapeshifter sex.

Blurb: Toronto cop Cara Many-Winters Mackenzie is still reeling from her fiancé’s murder when her orderly life takes a turn toward the weird, complete with voices in her head and phantom bleeding wounds.

This violent awakening is the rise of her Different gift—a chaotic, Bugs-Bunny-on-crack magic that she must learn to control before it destroys her. There’s only one place to get help: her mother’s ancestral village, and a mentor who seems to have stepped straight out of the smoke of her erotic dreams.

Cougar Dual Jack Long-Claw reluctantly agrees to take Cara under his wing, though he’d much rather take the beautiful city girl into his bed. As he guides her through a crash course in shamanic magic, sparks fly—some sexy, some snarky. But when an ancient enemy attacks the village, they must work together to hone a magical weapon against certain destruction.

Common sense tells them it’s a terrible time to fall in love. Their spirit guides have other ideas. And shamans who don’t listen to their spirit guides are dead shamans…

Warning: Hot shape-shifting feline hero. Strong but shell-shocked heroine. Snarky, meddling spirit guides. And lots and lots of sex: angry sex, crazy sex, magical sex, and just plain sexy sex.

Jack kissed her again, savagely, one hand grasping the back of her neck and the other her ass as if he feared she’d escape. Her back arched as he tried to press more of her against him and she did her best to oblige.

The strain added to the heightened sensations pouring through her.

Phil always touched her like she was fragile and might break, even though they were the same height and she could bench-press more than he could.

Jack could probably bench-press two of her. He was several inches taller than she was and solid as a big cat. Yet he seemed to take it for granted that she could handle anything he dished out, from love-bites to a bruising grip.

It made her want to give back as good as she got.

If she was gasoline, Jack was a match.

He kissed and nipped his way down her body, bringing her nipples to life with his lips and tongue and questing, pinching fingers. Forceful, riding the line between perfect and too much, and right now, that was exactly where she wanted to be.

The wind howled outside, or maybe it was her blood.

Rick Mora (handsome Native American model/actor)

Rick Mora (the cover model for this book)

Her jeans were already gone when she woke. Damp from collapsing in the snow, she assumed, and Jack had gotten her out of them while she was unconscious, leaving her thermals in place. He cupped her through the thermals, stroking her throbbing sex. Pushing, pushing. The lamps flared alarmingly, their flames rainbow-striped.

Jack interrupted what he was doing just long enough to glare at the lamps and growl, sternly, “No.” They returned to normal.

Then he slipped his hand inside the elastic waist of her thermals. His fingers burned on her belly as they worked their way down.

Jack raised his eyebrows and smiled appreciatively as he stroked the soft, sleek curls on her mound. Then he discovered her clit and went to work.

Her body tensed. She saw a meteor shower on a snowy night as the roof of the cabin opened, heard distant laughter that she swore emanated from somewhere in that impossible sky.

She came hard, bucking and shuddering, tears welling in her eyes from the painful intensity of the pleasure. She’d had plenty of good sex in her life, but this was ridiculous in its speed and intensity.

The craziest thing was that it didn’t take the edge off her desire, but pushed it higher.

Cara had never been so glad she’d indulged in the ridiculously adorable leopard-print thermals, or so glad to get out of them as he helped her wiggle free. They’d need to be washed anyway; they smelled like twofer Tuesday at a whorehouse.

She grabbed the ragged edges of his shirt and yanked. The remaining fabric yielded with a satisfying ripping sound, and a few buttons popped onto the floor.

His body was as beautiful as she’d dreamed, and she couldn’t seem to stop touching it. Lean, strong, not bulked up like a guy who spent time working out in a gym, but all muscle. His skin looked smooth and felt like sueded silk under her hands. Living silk, warm and supple and so delicious.

His jeans wouldn’t rip away. She had to unzip. He had to wriggle. Conscious thought was definitely involved. But most of the thought was simply, Naked. Need naked.

She said the only words she’d managed to get out since the first kiss. “My God, your cock is gorgeous.” Not the kind of thing she usually thought, let alone blurted out, but his was so big and thick and delicious that she couldn’t help herself.

Jack threw his head back and laughed. “Thanks, but I know the truth. Even the best cock’s funny looking.” Then his voice dropped into smoky intensity. “It’s what you do with them that makes them beautiful.”

“Show me, then. Now.”

Buy links for the ebook:

Amazon/Kobo/Samhain /B&N

Buy links for the paperback:

Amazon /B&N /Samhain

 

While this is a fairly mild post for Masturbation Monday, it’s part of the blog hop . Find others here.

Reads "Masturbation Monday: where getting off is half the fun"

23 Sep 2014

Teaser Tuesday: Cougar’s Courage

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

CougarsCouragesmaller

It’s Tuesday, which in certain internet circles is also Teaseday. Cougar’s Courage (Duals and Donovans, Book 3) has been out for a while as an ebook, but it’ll be released as a print book on October 7. And that print book got a 4-star review from Romantic Times magazine: “The perfect blend of suspense, magic and sexual chemistry.”  So this seems like the perfect time to post a snippet of Cougar’s Courage. I’ll share a few more in the next couple of weeks. Cara, whose shamanic gift is just awakening, and who is still reeling from the recent murder of her fiancé, has the most interesting dream…

Up until now, things had been relatively linear and sensible for a dream, but suddenly Cara found herself naked, swaddled under furs, and getting freaky with the most gorgeous specimen of masculinity she’d ever seen or dreamed.

Since it was a dream, she got a bird’s-eye look, which she couldn’t have if this had been real.

Long, straight black hair, bronze skin, the cheekbones of doom. He looked pure First Nations, only his eyes, instead of the dark brown she’d have expected, were amber.

Body of a god.

And oh my, cock of a wild stallion and the strength to just pick her up and toss her onto her back so he could sink that cock into her hard and fast. It was a claiming, but she was opening to him, rising to meet him, claiming him right back.

She arched, stiffened, cried out…

And woke to an empty bed, clutching a pillow that still smelled like Phil. She was wet, her nipples almost painfully hard, but she buried her face in the pillow and wept.

For Phil and what they’d had.

For what they hadn’t had.

For the doubts she’d never dared to express about their future, about the sense that much as she loved her calm, gentle, geeky accountant, they were growing apart. That the routine she thought she’d craved wasn’t going to work for her.

If she had expressed those doubts, would Phil still be alive? He’d been waiting for her outside an all-night diner when the carjacker got him. They’d planned to meet after her shift for a four a.m. breakfast since they’d been on different schedules that week. If he’d been single, he’d have been safe in bed.

She wouldn’t have the burden of guilt, of knowing that if she hadn’t lingered a few minutes too long after her shift, Phil wouldn’t have been waiting near the diner alone.

And she wouldn’t need to feel so wretched she felt closer to her dream lover than she now did to her dead fiancé.

Blurb:

Logic says wait. Their bodies scream go. And their spirit guides are playing dirty.

Toronto cop Cara Many-Winters Mackenzie is still reeling from her fiancé’s murder when her orderly life takes a turn toward the weird, complete with voices in her head and phantom bleeding wounds.

This violent awakening is the rise of her Different gift—a chaotic, Bugs-Bunny-on-crack magic that she must learn to control before it destroys her. There’s only one place to get help: her mother’s ancestral village, and a mentor who seems to have stepped straight out of the smoke of her erotic dreams.

Cougar Dual Jack Long-Claw reluctantly agrees to take Cara under his wing, though he’d much rather take the beautiful city girl into his bed. As he guides her through a crash course in shamanic magic, sparks fly—some sexy, some snarky. But when an ancient enemy attacks the village, they must work together to hone a magical weapon against certain destruction.

Common sense tells them it’s a terrible time to fall in love. Their spirit guides have other ideas. And shamans who don’t listen to their spirit guides are dead shamans…

Warning: Hot shape-shifting feline hero. Strong but shell-shocked heroine. Snarky, meddling spirit guides. And lots and lots of sex: angry sex, crazy sex, magical sex, and just plain sexy sex.

Buy links for the ebook:

Amazon/Kobo/Samhain /B&N

Buy links for the paperback:

Amazon /B&N /Samhain

21 Sep 2014

Masturbation Monday (and okay, Sunday too): More from Possessed, Undressed, and in a Mess

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. 5 Comments

Cover of Possessed, Undressed and In a Mess

Today’s Masturbation Monday offering is another excerpt from Possessed, Undressed, and in a Mess, by my coauthoring alter ego Sophie Mouette. It seems this book has more than its share of sexy solo bits. (Yes, I know it’s not Monday yet, but I’m self-employed, so Monday and Sunday are kind of the same.)

Reads "Masturbation Monday: where getting off is half the fun"

By the way, I hated cutting out the paragraphs that framed this snippet of yummy smut, but they’d give away important plot details, and the book will be so much more fun to read with the mystery/crime-caper element intact. It’s not all sex, much as you might think so from the recent bits I’ve posted. (In fact, we describe it as a “spicy” romance rather than an erotic one. The sex scenes are numerous and hot, but the story doesn’t center on the hero and heroine’s sexual journey. Not with ghosts, criminals, and other crazy stuff distracting them!)

Blurb: A séance gone wildly wrong leaves hotelier Angela Georgenes sharing her body with a randy Victorian ghost. Someone’s after a treasure allegedly hidden in the hotel and the ghost wants to tell Angela - but can only communicate when Angela’s on the verge of orgasm.

Talk about awkward.

Angela - and the ghost - are both hot for new handyman Tyler Woodruff, but is he a knight in a shining pickup or the thief? In truth, he is there under false pretenses: he’s a fortune hunter who liberates unappreciated artifacts. Distracted by Angela’s wicked imagination and uninhibited bedroom antics, he doesn’t want to fall in love with her any more than she does with him.

But admitting their true feelings is the only way the ghost can reveal the nature of the treasure–and the real threat.

Excerpt:

Well, [Tyler] could see Angela or Kari having an issue if he poked a hole in a wall without a damn good excuse. And to be honest, he truly didn’t want to cause any sort of permanent damage to Angelika. She was a beautiful building, with a sweet resonance.

Not unlike one of her owners. Kari was a cute thing, but it was Angela who attracted him. Something about her mane of ebony curls and those dark, mysterious eyes. A guy could get lost in those depthless pools.

Not to mention the way her nipples perked against that silky camisole she’d been wearing that afternoon, so responsive when he touched them.

How she’d moaned, shifted against him, met him kiss for desperate, wild kiss.

His jeans were getting uncomfortably tight. Tyler shook his head, trying to dislodge the distracting thoughts of the alluring Angela.

He had a job to do.

But no matter how hard he tried to concentrate, his mind—and body—kept circling back to images of her. The feel and taste and smell of her.

Okay. Fine. He knew the drill. If you couldn’t focus because someone was distracting you, you took care of the distraction.

He stood and popped the buttons of his jeans. His cock sprang free from its confines, and he sighed with relief. He wiggled out of the jeans and kicked them in the general direction of the sort-of laundry corner.

There was a bottle of lotion on the bureau, lime green and shaped like a woman in a floor-length, poofy skirt. He winced before he even opened it, imagining the scent. It was, as expected, cloyingly flowery, but oh, well. Short of heading back into the shower (which would involve stuffing himself back in his jeans, a prospect that, despite the sickly-sweet lotion, was growing increasingly unlikely), this was his only option.

Tyler moved the paperwork to the floor in careful stacks, lay back on the bed, and covered his palm with lotion. He pressed his hands together for a moment, warming the cream, and thought of Angela.

His cock jumped before he even touched it.

Her hair, he thought as he began to stroke, would trail across him, silken strands slithering across his chest and belly. She’d skip over his cock to tease him, brushing against his thighs, before taking pity on him and moving up to twine her locks around his shaft, the ends tickling his balls. When she pulled away, there’d be a drop of pre-come glistening at his tip, and she’d swipe it up with her tongue.

Closing his eyes, he imagined her pink tongue darting out to lick him, and he smeared his thumb over the pre-come at the head of his cock.

She’d already be wet, because they would have been playing for a while. Her juices would be drying on his chin, their scent still lingering, adding to his arousal.

A sultry smile would play on her red, lush lips as she straddled him. Promise would sparkle in her midnight eyes. She’d tease again—she’d be like that—rubbing her wet pussy against the crown of his cock.

Tyler followed suit with his own fingers, lost in the fantasy.

She’d slowly sink down on him, and when she reached the bottom, her eyes would flutter shut. He’d reach up and play with her nipples, lightly at first, then harder, tweaking them and toying with them as she got closer to orgasm. She’d post up and down, faster, and as her climax washed over her she’d grind down, clenching and fluttering against him.

He squeezed himself harder, his fist moving faster as he cupped his balls in his other hand, feeling them tighten as he got closer himself.

She’d lean over then, rubbing her nipples into his chest as she kissed him. She’d try to tease him some more, but he’d be having none of that. He was too close. He’d urge her back up, orchestrate her movements with his hands firmly on her hips. When she felt him swell, just before his release, her eyes would widen and her mouth would open, and she’d cry out and come again, writhing against him as he shot into her.

He must have blacked out for a second, because the next thing he was aware of was knocking at the door.

“Mr. Woodruff? Everything all right in there?”

His tongue was dry, and it took him a moment to call out, “I’m fine, Mrs. Parsons.”

*

Intrigued? You can get the book, in both paperback and ebook formats, from all your favorite retailers by clicking below.

Amazon / Amazon Kindle / Barnes & Noble / Kobo /Smashwords

Sophie’s dedicated website is, not surprisingly, www.sophiemouette.com. Follow her on Facebook: www.facebook.com/sophiemouette, or on Twitter: @SophieMouette

More sexy #MasturbationMonday links here: http://masturbationmonday.kaylalords.com/masturbation-monday-week-3/

19 Sep 2014

“Countdown to Italy” Sale

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

Book cover for BLOOD AND LOTUSES (attractive Asian man and woman with swords)

 

My dark romantic fantasy Blood and Lotuses is on sale at Amazon right now. I’m calling it a “countdown to Italy” sale, although it’s more like a count-up. It’s 99 cents for two more days, then goes up to a big $1.99–still a bargain–until September 24. That’s the day the Cat-Herder and I, and our beloved Usual Traveling Companions S&P, will fly off to Venice to begin our long-anticipated tour of Italy. So this sale’s counting down just like we are.

Venice was a city known for its decadence in earlier times, and so is Dakura, the imaginary Asian-inspired city where my book takes place. A tide of “religious” fanatics have taken over and are violently wiping out all signs of what they consider decadence, from the truly evil (child prostitution) to the harmless (love!) But they don’t know their fanaticism is inspired by a demon who’s using their violence as a way to infiltrate the physical world–and remake it in its hateful image.

Who better to fight this menace than a priestess trained as a courtesan?

 

hot chick with sword?

 

Blurb: When love is outlawed, only the bravest lovers can defeat an inhuman foe.
A demon in the guise of a goddess is “purifying” the great city of Dakura by killing off its stores of love, desire, and beauty. Once the city is void of color and passion, the demon can claim the city for its base to conquer the whole mortal world.
Anchali, a priestess of the goddess of love and desire, infiltrates the temple of the false goddess, along with her reluctant guardian Thanom, a soldier whose wife was murdered in a demon-inspired purge. They’re hoping to get information to pass on to a rebel general who hopes to roust the cult from Dakura. What they find, though, tells them this isn’t a job for warriors.
It’s a job for lovers, using the power of passion to enact an ancient ritual.
Anchali can perform the ritual. But first she has to convince a broken-hearted man to love again.
Compared to that, defeating a demon is child’s play.
Warning: Contains more explicit violence and less explicit sex than usual in a Teresa Noelle Roberts novel, along with all the magic and romance you’ve come to expect.

Excerpt:

“You don’t have to do this, Anchali,” Thanom said, not for the first time. “Dakura’s no place for the Chosen of Pichitra now.” It was raining hard, one of the relatively short but soaking downpours to be expected in the western parts of Kalynga province at this time of year, and they’d found shelter inside the hollow of a huge, fallen tree—a decent enough shelter, if rather cramped, forcing them to be a little closer together than was truly good for Thanom’s peace of mind.

It was as good a time as any, he figured, to have this argument again, not that he thought it was any more likely to change her mind than it had been before.

“And if the Chosen of Pichitra do not fight those would destroy all Pichitra stands for, who will?”

“Lord Commander Rak’s army, maybe?” Thanom tried to smile as he said it, but he could tell the smile wasn’t reaching his eyes. “Fighting’s more our line than yours. And why should you risk your life for Lord Rak and Baragarm anyway? I was born in Baragarm, and I served under Lord Rak for years. It made sense for me to go back there after…after there was nothing to keep me in Dakura. But why should you help your own city fall to Lord Rak?”

“Dakura has already fallen. The Negus has betrayed Dakura and all Benire, joining Iana’s cult. Iana’s cult has claimed half the city, and fear has paralyzed the other half.” Anchali gestured with her hands as she spoke. Her breasts bobbed.

The movement distracted Thanom more than it should have. Anyone would think he was a tribal lad come down out of the mountains on the northern border with Pandak, where women bundled up in colorful layered ikat jackets to keep the chill at bay, instead of a city man, a man of the world.

But there was being worldly and sophisticated, and then there were the graceful lines of Anchali’s body, and the nipples still ornamented with henna as a mark of being Chosen by Pichitra. The beauty of her body wasn’t something you’d see every day, even in a great city like Baragarm or Dakura. Fortunately, he managed to look away before he lost the thread of the conversation altogether.

“Lord Rak is a decent man,” Anchali continued, “a man who honors Pichitra and Jananya and the Red God as well. He’s been a good Lord Commander of the armies and he’s done a good job as governor of Baragarm. He can only do a better job with the country than a mad Negus, and if he can free Dakura from this madness, I’d far rather see my city, and the whole of Benire, in his hands.”

Well, at least they agreed on that point. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a good thing for his argument. If she had the slightest doubt about Lord Rak’s integrity, he might have been able to persuade her to give up this spy mission.

Buy the book (for less!) at Amazon.

 

16 Sep 2014

Glenda Horsfall visits with her tasty new book PLAYING FOR KEEPS (and a Rafflecopter giveaway)

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

Let’s all welcome Glenda Horsfall to the blog. And be sure to enter the contest at the bottom of the page!

 

Matt is worried! Their relationship is in trouble. Cassie has been begging him to add role-play to their lovemaking, but the kind of role Cassie wants him to play leaves him cold. When he discovers her stash of erotic romance novels, he comes to suspect that what she really wants is dominance.
Matt takes Cassie away for the weekend to celebrate her birthday. She is disappointed that the ‘highlight’ of the weekend is to be a costume party. A costume party is not the kind of role-play she’s fantasized about. She is surprised when she realizes it will be a party for two and that Matt has actually taken her to a BDSM club.

 

Cassie agrees to be his ‘love slave’ for the weekend and promises to obey all her ‘Master’s’ commands. Matt is surprised at her enthusiasm and is turned on by her ready acceptance of his domination.


At last, he understands her desire to role-play and Matt indulges her fantasies, along with a few of his own. However, the weekend away has changed their relationship and has taken them in a direction he hadn’t foreseen. Now he’s wondering if they can survive the changes


 




 




 





 
PLAYING FOR KEEPS
My wish list
CAST OF CHARACTERS
If this book was ever
to be made into a film!
 

 

Matt to be played by Mariano Ontanon
 
Matt is one of the good guys; a loving and generous
boyfriend, good company and a great lover.
He’s worshipped Cassie from afar, for a long time. Now that he’s got
her, there’s no-way he’s going to let a little something like her need to
experiment with sexual role-play, get in his way. He’s a man on a mission,
determined to give the girl he loves, everything she needs to be fulfilled.
It’s amazing the lengths he’s prepared to go to.
 
Cassie to be played by Jana Kramer
 
Cassie is confused. She’s known Matt all her life and been
dating him for several months. She can’t fault him – he’s good company, great
to look at, romantic and a good lover. So why does she hanker for more… she
wants to spice up their love life, and is unhappy when he resists. Why can’t
she put into words exactly what she desires? What will it take to make her
realize that her desire to be spanked, hides an even deeper desire to submit?
 



 

“Cassie, come here,” he
commanded.
With legs which were almost
bare to the waist she rose from her kneeling position to walk towards him.  His body immediately went into overdrive and
he felt like he had swallowed his tongue.
He cleared his throat, trying to cover it up with a cough.
“Sit on the cushions facing
me.”  She sat down, making herself
comfortable with her knees drawn under herself, her gaze downcast.  The sight of her obeying his command, without
question, nearly caused his mind to shut down and he had trouble remembering
what he wanted her to do next.
After taking a moment or two
to get himself back together, he told her, “I have a present for you. A
Birthday gift for my slave.”  He slipped
his hand under her chin to look directly into her eyes. “Remove your top.”
Her eyes widened and he saw
the burst of lust that she quickly tried to hide by lowering her lashes.  Without comment, she unfastened the buttons
between her breasts and slowly peeled the top down her arms to let it drop
behind her back.   Her eyes locked onto
his, as she sat still and awaited his next move. Her tongue crept out to wet
her dry lips and he couldn’t resist leaning forward to lick along the seam of
her mouth.
He kissed her hard when she
eagerly opened her mouth to him, thoroughly enjoying her response.  He felt a twinge of guilt, when she moaned in
disappointment as he pulled away from her.
“Stroke your nipples for
me.  I want to see them erect and begging
to be kissed.”
Frustrated at his inaction
and sorely disappointed, Cassie looked down at her breasts and then back at
him.  What was the point if she was going
to play by herself?  He was an idiot!
Couldn’t he see they were already erect?
How much more did he think they would enlarge?  He had said ‘begging to be kissed.’ If he
didn’t kiss them soon, she would be reduced to begging. She was so turned on
her nipples were standing proud and her stomach muscles quivered in
anticipation of his next move.
As if he had read her
thoughts, he growled, “I want them harder!”
Cassie brought her hands up
and across her breasts; the palms of her hands massaged and rolled her nipples.
She was already highly aroused and her nipples were very sensitive to her
gentle touch.  She closed her eyes and
let her head fall back on her shoulders, thrusting her aching breasts towards
him. She teased and pinched her nipples.
Christ, if he didn’t get his act together soon, and join her on the
floor, she was going to come without him. What was he waiting for?
“Stop!”
What did he mean stop! She
would die of frustration if he didn’t make his move soon.  “Put your hands behind your back.”  Aiming to please, and hoping he would now get
things moving, she quickly put her arms behind her back and sat on her hands.
There. Done. Asshole.
He leaned forward and took
her right nipple between his thumb and index finger, rubbing it almost
painfully as he tugged on it sharply.
The sensation was overwhelming, the pain erotic in a way she struggled
to understand. She kept her eyes on his fingers, watching him as he played with
her nipple.  When he pulled extra hard a
shaft of sensation coursed straight to her core and her inner muscles pulsed
with need.  He was driving her mad. She
needed him to stop playing and she could not hold back her moan of need. The
passion within that he had unleashed, was driving her mad. She felt raw.
Primal. She wanted fucked and she wanted it now. She couldn’t hold on much
longer. She needed to feel him driving into her with force, claiming her with
every stroke.
Matt released her nipple and
reached behind the divan to fetch a jeweler’s box. “You will only wear these
for me.” He told her, his look serious.
Christ, she thought, for a
man who hadn’t wanted to role-play, he was sure getting into his role tonight.
He opened the box to reveal
what looked like a pair of extra large gold hoop earrings with small screws
attached.  They reminded her of the type
of ring a bull would wear through its nose. Without another word, he leaned
forward, pinched her nipple again and brought the first of the rings to her
nipple.
“This is a nipple clamp. I am
going to fasten this on you.” He lifted her head and looked straight into her
eyes, “tell me if it gets too tight.”
She couldn’t move, didn’t
dare breathe. Christ, he was really getting into this Dom thing.   He leaned forward and drew her nipple into
his mouth, sucking so hard she would have sworn that her womb contracted. He
released her now moist nipple from his mouth, pinched it between his fingers and
positioned the clamp.  Matt slowly started
turning the side screw to fasten the clamp upon her nipple.  It was slightly painful, sharper than him
pinching her nipple, but at the same time surprisingly erotic.  He turned the screw tighter, and she had to
bite her lip to stop herself from moaning.
Again, he turned the screw.
“Enough – it’s tight enough!”
she cried. Shit, that hurt.
He took possession of her
mouth, his kiss hot and hard; at the same time, he gave the screw another turn.
“Aagh…..” Oh God, the pain, what the hell did he think he was doing? Tears
sprung to her eyes.
“Relax, breathe, deep steady
breaths – embrace the pain – it will soon fade.”
She wasn’t sure about that
and wondered how he would feel if his nipple was clamped tight. He lowered his
mouth to cover her nipple, which was now forced into permanent erection by the
clamp, and slowly laved both her nipple and the ring with his tongue,
alternatively sucking and blowing on her nipple. Oh God, it felt so good.  She would never have believed that something
so painful could make her feel so horny.
“Now, let’s fit the other
one.”
  

 

 

MUSIC PLAY LIST
FOR
PLAYING FOR KEEPS
Toni Braxton – You’re Making Me High
Leanne Rimes – How Do I Live Without You
Etta James – I Just Want To Make Love to You
Boyzone – I Love the Way You Love Me
Sam Cooke – You Send Me
 Glenda Horsfall was born and brought up in the beautiful city of Edinburgh.

 

From an early age she was an avid reader. She became engrossed in reading romance novels in her early teens and promised herself that one day she would sit down and write her own.
That dream has now been achieved with the publication of her first novel ‘Playing for Keeps’. A tale of Domination and submission, the story is also a romance with a Happy Ever After ending!


Glenda now lives on the Fylde Coast of England with her own hero. She has a grown up son and three beautiful grand-daughters.

 

Having worked for many years as an Accountant she loves being able to let her creative imagination run wild as she creates romantic stories for you to enjoy.


 



 
OR
Direct link:

 

 



 



 


 


 


15 Sep 2014

Masturbation Monday: A bit of naughtiness from Sophie Mouette’s Possessed, Undressed, and In a Mess

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. 3 Comments

Reads "Masturbation Monday: where getting off is half the fun"

Mondays are tough. But we can rejoice in Masturbation Monday, a sexy blog hop that brings you explicit scenes about particularly private interludes. It’s a great way to ditch the back-to-work blues. The blog hop, I mean, not masturbating. Although that works too… I just don’t recommend doing it in the office.  (If you have an office where that’s okay, you’re either self-employed, or I want to use your workplace in some future book.)

The following is a scene from Possessed,Undressed, and In a Mess by my alter ego Sophie Mouette. Our heroine, hotelier Angela, is attracted to her new handyman Tyler, so she’s been having all kinds of wild fantasies. That would be enough to get her hot and bothered. But during a seance, she gets possessed by the original owner of the Victorian mansion she’s converted into a hotel. Far from being the stereotypical repressed Victorian woman, Minerva was a free love advocate who’s definitely glad to have a body, even a borrowed, temporary one, and is hot for Tyler herself. And she wants desperately to convey an important piece of information to Angela, but can only make contact when Angela’s on the verge of orgasm.

This makes Angela’s efforts to relieve her sexual tension a little too interesting!

Cover of Possessed, Undressed and In a Mess

With a sigh, Angela shut her bedroom door. It resisted, the wood not fitting neatly into the frame, but a punt from her hip and it snicked closed.

Finally, she could stop being in control. She’d give anything to flop down on her old futon on its rickety frame and pass out.

She knew that just wasn’t going to be an option. She was just too wired—and just too horny.

She and Kari had used bedrooms in the hotel when they were renovating, but once Angelika opened for business, they’d chosen to vacate to ensure all the rooms could be moneymakers. The little gardener’s cottage out back was a decent-enough alternative: two bedrooms barely big enough to house a bed each, a miniscule bathroom, and a combination living/dining room with a postage-stamp-sized kitchen tucked in the corner.

They’d sunk every spare cent they had into the hotel, so the cottage was a hodgepodge of college relics, mismatched dishware, and furniture that didn’t fit in the hotel, including a hideous, aqua, nubbly polyester sofa that they’d tossed an antique candlewick bedspread over.

The bedspread had only a couple of small holes in it.

The shower spat hot water only when it felt so inclined (thank goodness for owners’ access to the spa) and thanks to some hole they’d never been able to locate, they often shared said shower with an indignant tree frog.

Kari had gotten excited when the tree frog moved it, saying it must be a totem, since frogs signified good luck, opportunities, and renewal, like the renewal Angelika had undergone.

Angela had nothing against wildlife; she just preferred it outdoors.

They hoped to have enough disposable income to fix the heating before next winter. And maybe an electrical system that didn’t buzz them when they touched a faucet at the same time as reaching for the light switch.

Or that rotted-through patch in the hardwood floor, artfully covered by a piece of plywood, a threadbare Deco rug, and a battered wrought iron plant stand from the 1950s.

It was a place to sleep, to retreat to when needed. The hotel, though, was home…the home Angela had never had.

She’d been so tempted to drag that bottle of Laphroaig back with her, but she needed to be awake and alert tomorrow. She was also loath to release herself from her corset and trappings just yet, if only because that sensual confinement could add so much to her pleasure.

But she needed to fall into bed as soon as possible—and, she suspected, it wouldn’t take her long to achieve release and then blissful unconsciousness. The trappings weren’t necessary. They were like the difference between a quickie and a…longie: sometimes you took what you could get, and it was still pretty damn satisfying.

Still, she couldn’t resist making the disrobing part of the process, rather than shucking the outfit and tossing it in the corner. (Okay, she would never toss the exquisite Victorian costume anywhere, but still.) If she could take the time to undress, she could take a few extra moments to do it properly.

The fantasy was easy to conjure. Tyler, of course. She’d been watching his hands: they were large, strong, capable. A worker’s hands, but not overly rough. Nails trimmed and clean. Fingers equally at home wielding a wrench or typing on a keyboard…or coaxing pleasure from a woman’s body.

He’d take his time with the tiny buttons that ran from cleavage to waistline. He’d pluck each one from its corresponding loop, murmuring in appreciation as each parting revealed another sliver of pale silk chemise and pale slice of flesh.

Not just murmuring. Tyler, she guessed, was a vocal man. Sure of himself, sure of his needs and desires, sure of his abilities when it came to sex. God knew he had the voice to go with that. He was like a male Siren.

Part of it was the confidence, obviously. He knew exactly how his words affected a women—he made that clear by following up with those sultry, bedroom blue eyes that held the wickedest promises she’d ever seen.

You couldn’t trust some men’s promises. Angela already trusted Tyler’s.

Her corset laced up the back for proper fitting, but hooks down the front allowed for easy removal. Still, she took it nice and slow.

One hook at a time, savoring how the comfortable, erotic confinement lessened, just a little. Her cleavage diminished, yes, but her breasts eased to their natural shape—and her nipples, previously and constantly hard against the rigid garment, peaked even tighter in the cool air.

She sucked in her breath at the sensation. She hadn’t even touched them, and they were already begging.

She’d probably be begging by this point, although she wouldn’t make it so obvious. She’d make breathy suggestions, arch her back to make her breasts more prominent, available. A blatant invitation to feast.

Tyler would laugh softly, she suspected. Went along with that wickedness. He’d accept the invitation…but on his own terms.

He’d cup his palms around the fullest part of her breasts, fingers caressing the curving sides. He’d heft them, ever so slightly; they’d still be on display, but on his display.

She’d bite her lip to keep herself from pleading aloud. She’d turn that into a coy look, up from beneath her lashes, playing the game, pretending she was letting him have control.

By the time he’d brush his thumbs lightly across her nipples, she’d be so ready that the flare of desire would make her knees buckle.

Of course she was mimicking what she imagined, and her legs did wobble at the thrill of need.

Screw slow. She popped the rest of the hooks, and with shaking hands folded the corset over the discarded dress and chemise on the straight chair by the bed. In her mind she could hear Tyler laughing, but at the same time she could see his gaze flare in intensity, taking in her mostly naked form as she sprawled across the not-very-comfortable (but-it-was-fine-for-now) futon.

She left on the split drawers, the sheer silken stockings. He’d like that.

She liked it, too. Liked sliding her hand up along the silk against her thigh before dipping her fingers between. She knew she was already wet, already thrumming with arousal.

“Taste yourself,” he’d say, bringing his fingers to her lips so she could suck on them, making desire flare in his dark blue eyes. Or maybe he’d taste them himself, in preparation.

Screw it. She licked her fingers, shuddered at the scent, and went down for the kill. After everything that had happened tonight, after how on edge she’d been for so long, it would take only a few seconds to find blessed release.

One hand tweaking a nipple, one flicking against her clit, and—

—a buzzing rose in her mind—but she assumed it was just lust—but then—

Thank goodness…far too long.

It wasn’t Tyler’s imagined voice in her head, no matter how much she wanted it to be.

It was feminine. It was Minerva.

Angela snapped.

There was no pitching over the crest into sweet relief.

There was no illusion of being in control anymore.

The scream she let out wasn’t of release, but of pure frustration laced with a healthy dollop of completely freaking out.

 

Intrigued? You can get the book, in both paperback and ebook formats, from all your favorite retailers by clicking below.

Amazon / Amazon Kindle / Barnes & Noble / Kobo /Smashwords

More sexy #MasturbationMonday links here: http://masturbationmonday.kaylalords.com/masturbation-monday-week-2/

 

 

14 Sep 2014

A Snog for Sommer: First Kiss from OUT OF CONTROL

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. 5 Comments

Button that leads to donation page to help Sommer Marsden & family as they deal with her husband's cancer.

Today, September 14, writers of racy romance and erotica are joining forces to help our fellow author Sommer Marsden. Sommer’s been a visitor to this site many times. She’s become a friend over the years, though we’ve never met face to face. And she’s a fantastic author; I highly recommend her books, which will make you think as well as feel. (And some of them will make you feel really good, if you get my drift.)

Sommer and her family are facing a challenging time right now. Her beloved husband is battling pancreatic cancer. Her writer friends can’t do much to relieve the worry and fear that they must be dealing with, but we can do a little to ease their financial strain. We’re spreading the word via the regular Sunday Snog blog hop, hoping that if you enjoy our kiss scenes, you’ll donate to help this wonderful writer and her family during this tough time. Hell, even if you think our excerpts are ridiculous, sappy shite, we hope you’ll donate anyway… but we do hope you like them.

Here’s my snog, the first kiss from my BDSM-oriented erotic romance Out of Control. Be sure to comment! You could win a copy of Out of Control! And be sure to visit the tour’s home page so you can donate.

OutOfControl72lgAt the door, Drake extended his hand for her to shake. Acting on impulse, though promising herself it would just be a quick, friendly indulgence, she hugged him instead. “Thank you so much for letting me have this place!”

Drake’s arms closed around her, wiry and strong. His body radiated heat. Jen’s heartbeat sped up, or maybe it was his, echoing in her ear. He felt better than someone she just met had any right to, and something impressive was stirring inside his shorts. She squirmed against him, enjoying a second-long flash of explicit fantasy: him holding her down with his surprising strength, controlling her, fucking her.

Right. Time to back away. Professor Hot-Stuff was intriguing, and she would definitely consider an academic pursuit once they got to know each other better, but she’d already bordered on making an ass of herself with the hug, especially after the whole riding-crop thing. If she started rubbing against him like a cat in heat…

She ought to slip away but it was hard to make herself be sensible when he felt this good.

She raised her face, honestly not sure whether she was preparing to pull back or inviting a kiss. She knew which she wanted. She knew it wasn’t smart.

But she wasn’t sure she cared.

Drake’s grip tightened, not oppressively but enough to feel deliciously possessive. He bent down. “Kiss me,” he whispered, his voice throaty, intimate. He murmured, “That’s a good girl,” before his lips met hers.

 

Fire. The kiss was like the heat from her glass furnace. No, it was like the molten glass itself, malleable and flowing, suffusing her body from where their lips met. His lips were firm but soft, his beard deliciously raspy and masculine. One of Drake’s hands slipped up to cup the back of her head, long fingers tangling in her hair. He tugged just enough to pull her head back, opening her up for a deeper kiss. Her lips parted under his, inviting his tongue. His breath tasted like coffee, which she loved on the right man’s breath almost as much as in the cup, and peanut butter, which she wouldn’t normally find sexy but which suddenly became intensely erotic under the deft ministrations of his tongue.

Damn, her bike shorts were going to be soaked. And by damn, she meant supercalafragilistic with a side order of expialidocious.

Just when she reached a viscous state, Drake released her with a sigh, though his shorts were obviously packing some serious heat. “Living with you is going to be dangerous. Good thing I’m on a deadline, or I’d want to keep you here.”

“I don’t mind being kept.” Where did that quiver in her voice come from, and why was she talking like Betty Boop?

 

If this sparked your interest, here are buy links for the book: Samhain /Amazon  / Amazon UK / B&N / Kobo

And here, again, is the important link for today: where to donate! After all, we’re not just snogging today; we’re Snogging for Sommer! http://smutforgood.co.uk/a-snog-for-sommer/

Button that leads to donation page to help Sommer Marsden & family as they deal with her husband's cancer.

8 Sep 2014

Masturbation Monday: A definitely NSFW scene from OUT OF CONTROL

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. 2 Comments

Reads "Masturbation Monday: where getting off is half the fun"

 

I’m taking part in a blog hop called (as you probably guessed) Masturbation Mondays, which is dedicated to sexy scenes about particularly private moments. I’m sharing an excerpt from Out of Control. Jen and Drake have had an unexpectedly intense encounter that escalated from kisses to a spanking, but it left Drake feeling uncomfortable…out of control, even…and wanting to have a serious conversation about limits and boundaries. Spontaneous Jen thinks that’s a bit weird, but she can’t get Drake and his enticing kinks out of her mind.

OutOfControl72web

Fine, then, Jen would let it go and have that potentially awkward but potentially important (to Drake, at least) conversation. Maybe she could figure out what he was going on about.

And maybe then she could get him undressed, touch the long, toned legs she’d seen that first time, see if his chest was muscular enough to compete with his biceps and his crazy-strong forearms. Check out that cock. Suck that cock. Feel that cock inside her.

Maybe he’d spank her while he fucked her. He might even tie her up first—he’d threatened to tie her up, or maybe it was more like a sweet promise. Or maybe he’d just hold her down, using his strength “against” her but for her benefit, her pleasure.

Oh yeah.

Lust surged through her again, its warm hues wiping out the last dull irritation. Her nipples tightened. She brushed her finger over the place where he’d bitten her, feeling a lovely twinge of tenderness. She hadn’t bothered to look at her breast as she’d jerked her T-shirt back on, too annoyed to indulge herself. Now, both curious and aroused, she headed into the bathroom and hiked up her shirt.

The underside of her breast bore a bruise, a beautiful bruise, red and purple to match the colors in her mind, with the marks of Drake’s teeth clear. A real, old-fashioned hickey, the kind so-called bad girls tried desperately to hide from parents and teachers back in high school. But this mark was no trip down memory lane. High school hickeys had been accidental, the result of awkward, overenthusiastic teenage passion. This had been a purposeful way of proclaiming I was here! A mark of possession, however temporary.

That should have been troubling, considering how little she knew Drake, and how gifted he seemed to be at pissing her off as well as arousing her. Instead, it was erotic as hell. That might be troubling too, once she took the time to think it through, but she’d enjoy it for now and worry about the ramifications later.

Her hand strayed inside the waistband of her jeans, ran over the curve of her belly. Sometimes she looked at herself in the mirror and cursed her small pooch, but when she felt sensual, as she did now, she liked that curve—a pretty line, and a nice combination of strength and softness. Her skin felt warmer than usual, more sensitive. Each touch was intensified, as if someone else was touching her instead of her own familiar hand. As if Drake were touching her, stroking her, teasing his way down to her mound.

Her hand took that path. She hadn’t bothered with underwear when she got dressed again. It made it all too easy to stroke her soft pubic curls, imagining Drake’s hand there. Somehow in their play, he’d never done that. Would he be gentle or would he pull? Probably both. She gave a tentative tug and decided that it might feel good if he did it, but it didn’t work as masturbation. Then again, she didn’t think spanking herself would be the same either. She petted her soft fur idly, enjoying the sensation as her arousal built. She could hardly see the bathroom’s retro black-and-white tiles and magnificent tub over the red-and-purple swirls in her mind. Images of Drake and her entwined, fucking—of Drake tying her up—of Drake spanking her, or using that mysterious crop on her—danced among the colorful swirls. He’d said something about being cruel, about some of his desires being “freaky”. What else might he be into—and more to the point, would she like it?

It was her fantasy, and in her fantasy, she knew she would. She didn’t go into specifics, but every tantalizing, erotic, harsh image she’d ever seen or read about flashed into her mind in hot succession. Ropes. Chains. Whips. Paddles. Silk stockings and black leather. Hands on her body, manipulating her, holding her down, making her feel small and helpless, yet desirable and desired and loved.

She slid her fingers down to her clit, began to circle it as she imagined Drake’s finger where hers was. She was getting slicker as her pleasure built. The rich reds and purples in her mind moved like lava. Some dim part of her brain prompted her to pause long enough to unzip her jeans and let them pool around her ankles so they didn’t get soaked with her juices, a practical maneuver since she wasn’t entirely sure where her other jeans were. Trash bags didn’t come in enough colors for her to color code her packing effectively.

Putting one foot up on the tub, she sank two fingers of her left hand into her pussy, gasping at the hot, slick grasp. Poor, silly Drake. He should be sorry his cock wasn’t where her fingers were.

Of course she’d rather have his cock than her own fingers, too. Fingers were all very well, but that cock she’d felt through his clothes, and had seen outlined in those shorts, would be more satisfying, since it was attached to six-two of gorgeous, sensual, kinky man. She could picture it from all angles, him sunk balls-deep into her, his weight and strength holding her down. She could see all the muscles of his chest and abs delineated, and those beautiful arms, but at the same time she could imagine the ass she’d never seen or even groped, flexing and relaxing as he pumped into her. Filled her. Fucked her.

She worked in and out of her pussy in the rhythm she imagined Drake using, circling her clit frantically as she did. Pressure built in her lower body, and the colors spiraled frantically. She clenched hard, feeling the firm pressure on her fingers and picturing how Drake would react, how he’d groan in a throaty, animalistic way and look astonished by how his control was cracking. How he’d cry out as he surged into her, filling her with hot come, his body jerking, his face turning red, looking alarming and warriorlike and sexy as hell.

That image sent her tumbling into the lava pools of her mind. Light filled her, light of a color she couldn’t name, and she shattered. As the orgasm seized her, she cried out “Drake!”

At that moment, the front door opened.

 

Samhain / Amazon  / Amazon UK / B&N / Kobo

 

More #MasturbationMonday links here: http://masturbationmonday.kaylalords.com/masturbation-monday-has-arrived/

4 Sep 2014

Blog Tour: Paige Matthews visits with Crossover and a great giveaway!

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

We (that would be the cats and I) welcome guest author Paige Matthews to the site today. She’s going to tell us about her hot new release Crossover, which is all about music and second chances, with maybe just a little kink (or a lot, knowing Paige), and and offer you all a chance to win a terrific prize package. (Free books and an Amazon gift card? Why wouldn’t you want to enter? I will be for sure!) Visit some of Paige’s blog tour hosts — the whole list’s at: http://paigematthews.com/2014/09/02/crossover-blog-tour/ –and get even more chances to win.

10563592_10152529770941421_1990544650_n

 

Synopsis:

Secrets Can Destroy. Can they overcome theirs?

Faith Maguire has spent the last six years traveling the world in an attempt to forget the secrets that she hides. After finding her fiancé cheating on her in Milan, Faith heads home to Fuquay Varina, NC to lick her wounds and take some time off-until she is offered a position documenting the upcoming tour for Double Cross.

Preparing for a new tour, Gabe Cross is not thrilled to be on the road. He much rather be living it up in Raleigh. Thinking back to the one person that left him a broken hearted man, Gabe prepares for another three months of drowning his sorrows and screwing her out of his mind- until she shows up on the tour.

Faced to confront the hurt and pain six years forgotten- Gabe and Faith must learn how to move on from their pasts in order to have a future, but will their secrets prevent them from having their second chance?

 

Buy Links:

ARE: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-crossover-1612731-356.html

 

Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Crossover-Double-Cross-Novel-Book-ebook/dp/B00N8AIGIM/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1409677951&sr=1-1

 

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.ca/gp/product/B00N8AIGIM?*Version*=1&*entries*=0

 

Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/crossover-paige-matthews/1120257473?ean=2940150311077

 

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Paige_Matthews_Crossover?id=I5tlBAAAQBAJ

 

About the Author:

20130601-093011.jpg

I grew up in a small, idyllic affluent town in the Western part of Connecticut, USA. The town definitely did not match my personality. My high school years were filled with the proverbial teenage fun, although not too much by me. I stayed close to home and pursued my B.A. in English Comparative Literature from a local college and then continued on for my M.A in English Professional Writing. I have always had a love for reading and literature and only furthered that during my studies. During my M.A. studies I decided it was time to challenge myself and work in a field that I have long admired and dreamt off: being a writer.

Having entered the lifestyle a few years ago, I write erotica with a preference toward BDSM themes. I enjoy exploring the emotional connection and emotions behind the D/s relationships and why we like what we like.

 

Author Stalker Links:

Facebook/Twitter/Website/Blog/Goodreads:

 

Excerpts #1 (Faith POV)

I watched as she walked away. I could tell what Caleb saw in her. She was fun to be around. Carefree and real. I turned around and bumped into a male body. Slowly, I raised my eyes. I saw black boots that were attached to jeans that hung low on a set of hips. The tight black tee shirt clung to an abdomen and chest as I continued to raise my eyes. My head tilted back as I finally made eye contact.

“Excuse me,” the tenor voice said as his hand grasped my elbow, steadying me. As soon as our eyes locked, my stomach hurled. I turned quickly to avoid hitting him with the contents.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” I turned away embarrassed as shit.

“It’s okay. Are you alright?” the voice asked. Our eyes locked again as I turned my head toward him. “Faith?”

Gabe’s hand let go of me, causing my body to hit the ground.

“Gabe.” I sat on the ground staring at him, waiting for him to say something, anything. Gabe continued to stare back at me, running his hands through his hair. “Say something.” I pleaded.

“I don’t know what to-“

“Oh my goodness, Faith, are you okay?” Kat ran up to me with the rest of the band in tow.

“I’m fine.” I glanced at Gabe, who had stood and walked away. A familiar face stuck out a hand, and I grabbed it as I lifted myself onto my feet. Jaxson held my hand as we looked at each other. Maybe this wasn’t a great idea.

“What are you doing here, Faith?” he demanded.

“A job, Jaxson. I was hired to do a job.” Jax let go of my hand and threw his hands into his pockets. I turned to Kat, who was talking to Caleb. Realization fell upon her face as her mouth formed the ‘O’ sound. Fuck!

“Kat, I’m not sure this is such a good idea. I’m sorry. I-“ I turned away.

“No. It is perfectly fine. We have rented the company and the space. Now, let’s get the job done.” I watched as she stomped off toward my ex and my brother. I turned around and saw Caleb standing there.

“Caleb, I don’t want to discuss this. I knew I shouldn’t have accepted the job. I don’t think Kat knew.”

“Of course she didn’t. I’m not upset or angry. Listen, Faith, we all have our own burdens to bear. I know that all to well myself. You need to atone for what you did to them. For now, I am just happy to know you are safe and okay.” He smiled and waited.

“That wasn’t the talk I thought I’d get from you. But, for what it’s worth, I am glad to see you happy as well.” Caleb nodded and turned as Kat’s voice boomed through set.

“Alright, ladies. Let’s get through this shoot, and then you can all go home and cry to yourselves.”

I laughed. I did like her already.

 

Excerpt 2: (Gabe’s POV)

I watched from the side of the stage. For the first time, I saw her. Faith was in front of the stage, taking pictures of Reese and Caleb. I stood there and watched her. I watched the way she held her camera. The way she bit her lip as she pondered the next angle. Her hair was up in a loose bun, and she was wearing a pair of jeans and a pink tank top. The camera was slung around her neck, but cradled like a baby in her hand. She moved fluidly back and forth, trying to capture the essence of the moment, of the song. My heart clenched as her eyes met mine and she turned away. I watched as she hurried off toward the opposite side of the stage, ducking behind the curtains that shielded the crew from the fans.

Caleb and Reese finished the song, and Jax and I joined them back on stage. We finished our set and did two more songs as an encore. By the time we were finally done, I was tired, and Faith was nowhere around. What would I say to her anyway? Years of pain, anger and guilt filled my heart and my head. Seeing her this morning had brought it all back. Did I still love her? At that moment, I didn’t know. I don’t think I ever stopped. Fuck!

 

Excerpt 3: (Faith’s POV)

I took some photos from the side, trying to capture the excitement and feel. I zoomed in on Gabe as he steadily beat the drums. I could see the veins in his muscles as he worked his arms across his kit. The man was good at what he did there was no denying that. I zeroed in on Jax and his finger work on the guitar. Reese was next, followed by Caleb. After getting individual photos, I went out to the front of the stage. I got into a zone, and the rest of the night flew by.

I was packing up and getting ready to say goodbye to Kat when I felt that electricity in the air. I turned around to see Gabe looking at me. I didn’t move, couldn’t if I wanted to. Gabe held me in place with his stare. He took a sip of his beer and just stood against the wall. I just wanted to know what he was thinking? Or did I? We didn’t break the stare until Jax popped in front of me.

Playlist:

Rafflecopter:
a Rafflecopter giveaway

27 Aug 2014

Three New Sophie Mouette Stories

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

Sophie Mouette and Little Kisses Press have been busy lately. Not resting on their laurels after releasing Possessed, Undressed, and In a Mess earlier in the month (partly because laurels are prickly and wouldn’t be good to rest on), they’ve released three sexy stories by Sophie for your e-reading pleasure.  Great tastes of Sophie!

And because Sophie likes diversity, two of the stories are lesbian-themed and one is heterosexual.

Food for Thought Cover: woman eating a cherry suggestivelyFood for Thought

Phenomenal sex… Susannah and Liane find themselves achingly compatible in the bedroom, but in the kitchen, their vastly opposing dietary restrictions cause the wrong kind of friction. Can these two sexy lesbian lovers find a middle ground and keep their delicious love alive?

“Food for Thought” originally appeared in Best Lesbian Love Stories 2009 (Alyson Press, 2008).

Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / Smashwords /All Romance eBooks

 

 

 

Cover of On Display (Woman's hip, naked except for thong, in ornate picture frame)On Display

Art gallery owner Monique desperately wants to impress Mrs. Farnsworth, her biggest potential donor and an incredibly sexy older woman. The display of sexually provocative lesbian photography inspires Mrs. Farnesworth to donate money…and the display of Monique herself inspires an evening of lust. Great Kindle Reads calls “On Display” “perfectly paced and lusciously detailed.”

“On Display” originally appeared in Where the Girls Are: Urban Lesbian Erotica (Cleis Press, 2009) and was reprinted in Coming Together: Girl on Girl charity anthology (Coming Together, 2013).

Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / Smashwords / All Romance eBooks

 

 

Rhythm Like a Heartbeat cover: curvy female torso in red bellydance costumeRhythm Like a Heartbeat

Kayla’s last boyfriend left her feeling self-conscious about her body, but a bellydance class—and, more importantly, sexy drummer Sandor—teaches her how her curves are her power…and how explosive the combination of sex, dance, and music can be.

“Rhythm Like a Heartbeat” originally appeared in Best Women’s Erotica 2007 (Cleis Press, 2006).

Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo /Smashwords /All Romance eBooks

 

18 Aug 2014

What It Means to be “Beautiful” (Big Book of Submission Blog Tour)

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

Book cover for The Big Book of Submission (cuffed woman, shown from the back)Welcome to today’s stop on the Big Book of Submission blog tour.

If you visited any of the previous stops (you should; the whole schedule appears at the end of the post), you’ll know this is subtitled 69 Kinky Tales and consists of very short stories on, you guessed it, themes of submission, kink, and dominance. There are some truly impressive stories in here, from both newly published writers and authors well known to fans of erotic fiction. Some of the stories are purely erotic fantasy, a moment of hot sex beautifully captured. Others manage to compress a lot of story into the short format. I really respect the writers who chose this path. It’s the one I elected, and I know it’s not at all easy.l

I can convey a sexy scenario in very few words indeed; I’ve written erotic flash fiction of 250-500 words. Getting readers hot and bothered in a super-short story and still giving them character development, at least in relation to how the characters interact sexually and romantically? Sure. But using the framework of BDSM and D/s to tell a more complex, even painful story in under 2,000 words, and still make it sexy? That was going to be more of a challenge.

And one to which I was determined to rise.

Luckily my brain cooperated with me, giving me an image of a bound woman with one beautiful breast and one survivor’s scar where the other breast used to be. The rest of the story came to me in a white heat.

And then I spent a long time–far longer than the initial writing–making sure each of the 1,100 words in the story gleamed.

As Alexis led Jane to the chain web in the center of the still-empty dungeon and told her what she planned for the first play party since the surgery, Jane’s heart threatened to burst out through her scarred chest. It took all her courage not to safeword or simply start a plain vanilla argument with her girlfriend and domme.

She used to love being on display, an object to be enjoyed by the eyes and roving hands of the other party guests. Loved the eyes on her. Loved Alexis’s pride as people admired her sub. When Alexis reclaimed her, she’d been wet and eager to play hard.

But Jane had been beautiful then, her body lean and shapely and unscarred. A credit to her own commitment to fitness and healthy living—which had proved no match for genetics. A credit to Alexis, because at a public party, a sub’s good looks reflected on the dominant who was with her or him.

And now Jane wasn’t perfect. Not even average, but damaged.

The story encompasses fear and courage, the loving but terrified obedience of a submissive facing a challenge that, in the moment, seems as big as surviving cancer, and the special way a dominant who loves her submissive may show that love. And yes, there’s hot kinky sex.

In a novel, it would have been…well, certainly not easy, but a challenge of a different sort. But I did it in 1,100 words.

And so did the other 68 writers in this book.

That’s why you should check it out.

The tour:

August 1 Lusty Lady

August 2 Clitical

August 3 Robot Lovers Prey on the Lonely (Annabeth Leong)

August 4 BDSM Book Reviews

August 5 Blhippiechick Reviews

August 6 Reviews @ HedoVibes

August 7 Valerie Alexander

August 8 Lady Smut

August 9 Kitten Boheme

August 10 Jade A. Waters

August 11 Rose de Fer

August 12 Erzabet’s Enchantments

August 13 The Gestalt Boudoir

August 14 The (Really) Naughty Corner

August 15 Tamsin’s Superotica

August 16 Sex, Food, and Writing

August 17 L.C. Spoering

August 18 Teresa Noelle Roberts

August 19 Can’t Talk podcast

August 20 M Marie

August 21 Corvidae Dreams

August 22 Septimus Reviews

August 23 Malin James

August 24 Inara Serene

August 25 D to the /s

August 26 Bitches n Prose

August 27 Property of Potter

August 28 Laila Blake

August 29 Louisa Bacio Love Knows No Bounds

August 30 Quixotic Orchid

August 31 Sex in Words

September 1 Jade Melisande

September 2 Ashley R Lister

 

Buy the book at

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Kindle ebook edition

Nook ebook edition

Amazon UK

Kindle UK

Kobo

Books-a-Million

Powell’s

IndieBound (find it at your local independent bookstore)

Google Play

iTunes

Cleis Press

14 Aug 2014

The laptop, or a writer considers vacation

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. 5 Comments

In just over a month, my husband and I and a couple of friends will be heading off on a long-planned trip to Italy.

And at the moment, this wondrous trip is causing me a dilemma. My husband thinks it’s a bit absurd for me to take my laptop. Our friend will have a tablet so we can check email occasionally, look up local information, etc. We’re taking trains between cities, so anything we don’t have to haul with us is a bonus. We’ll be with friends, so “down time” will probably be spent sipping wine, playing cards, and chatting, except maybe first thing in the morning–and then I think the DH might have notions that don’t include me working. And the damn thing has a battery life of about 3.7 minutes when it’s in active use, so I’d constantly be hauling out a power cord and converter if I were going to try to use it regularly. Kind of a pest on the train between Florence and Rome.

In any case, it’s unrealistic to think I’ll be taking a lot of time to work on this trip and that’s probably a good thing. I’ve had time away from the computer in the past 18 months, but except for the weekend at Kripalu, anything longer than a day’s break was a trip to my mom’s. I love my mom, but visits with her are extremely anxiety-producing for days spent hanging out in a pretty little town doing nothing much, since every minute brings a new reminder of her declining health. I need an actual vacation and I know it.

Yet I practically had a fight with my beloved over the damn laptop this morning and I’ve figured out why. I feel on some level that bringing it with me and trying to work even while on the trip of a lifetime proves I’m serious about this writing thing, that I deserve success. If I’m spending my morning hours on vacation slaving away at smutty romances instead of seeing how the morning light colors the ancient buildings of Rome (or actually doing something romantic and smutty with my husband on a trip that’s partly to celebrate our 20th anniversary…), it will signal the gods and Muses that they should shower good things upon me.

Yeah, right. The amount of work I’m likely to produce isn’t likely to make a difference one way or another. It’s purely magical thinking. In fact, I’d probably be better off just bringing a notebook or two so I can journal, jot down impressions, and play with words, remind myself why this writing gig is worth the pain.

I was relieved to get out of my old job, in part, because I’d no longer have to deal with work issues when I was traveling. Don’t I owe myself that much courtesy as a self-employed person?

Am I crazy to think I could get away without a computer for two weeks? What do you think?

© Phil Date | Dreamstime Stock Photos

© Phil Date | Dreamstime Stock Photos

6 Aug 2014

I must need a spanking…I forgot to announce The Big Book of Submission blog tour

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

 Book cover for The BIg Book of Submission (cuffed  woman, shown from the back)

I must be in such need of a spanking that I want to get myself in trouble. (Damn silly of me. I’m married to a gentleman who shares my kinks. I can get spankings just by asking nicely.) Somehow I forgot to tell everyone about the blog tour celebrating Rachel Kramer Bussel’s The Big Book of Submission. It started last Friday, but you can still catch up with the early posts.

I’m a contributor to this fine (hot!) book, and my date will be August 18, so be sure to check back them.

The tour:

August 1 Lusty Lady

August 2 Clitical

August 3 Robot Lovers Prey on the Lonely (Annabeth Leong)

August 4 BDSM Book Reviews

August 5 Blhippiechick Reviews

August 6 Reviews @ HedoVibes

August 7 Valerie Alexander

August 8 Lady Smut

August 9 Kitten Boheme

August 10 Jade A. Waters

August 11 Rose de Fer

August 12 Erzabet’s Enchantments

August 13 The Gestalt Boudoir

August 14 The (Really) Naughty Corner

August 15 Tamsin’s Superotica

August 16 Sex, Food, and Writing

August 17 L.C. Spoering

August 18 Teresa Noelle Roberts

August 19 Can’t Talk podcast

August 20 M Marie

August 21 Corvidae Dreams

August 22 Septimus Reviews

August 23 Malin James

August 24 Inara Serene

August 25 D to the /s

August 26 Bitches n Prose

August 27 Property of Potter

August 28 Laila Blake

August 29 Louisa Bacio Love Knows No Bounds

August 30 Quixotic Orchid

August 31 Sex in Words

September 1 Jade Melisande

September 2 Ashley R Lister

 

Buy the book at

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Kindle ebook edition

Nook ebook edition

Amazon UK

Kindle UK

Kobo

Books-a-Million

Powell’s

IndieBound (find it at your local independent bookstore)

Google Play

iTunes

Cleis Press

5 Aug 2014

Another Sophie Mouette book released into the wild!

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

Cover of Possessed, Undressed and In a Mess

What a busy and wonderful week! While I was still spreading the word about the release of Blood and Lotuses, I learned that Little Kisses Press had released Sophie Mouette’s latest romance, Possessed, Undressed, & In a Mess. This work combines spicy romance with a sexy bad-boy hero, larcenous hijinks, and a Victorian ghost who’s not exactly prim and proper. Just writing this book has been a wild ride, though the two halves of Sophie, as always, had a lot of fun with the process. You see, we started out thinking we were writing straight-up erotica, but the characters insisted that no, it was a romance. A sexy romance, sure, but our hero and heroine would play only with each other and any other characters who were enjoying a sensual good time would do so off-camera, maybe dropping a few entertaining hints. Interesting how characters will have their say, but when you listen to them instead of fighting, it makes for a better book.

Even if it means rewriting the beginning a few times.

Blurb:

A séance gone wildly wrong leaves hotelier Angela Georgenes sharing her body with a randy Victorian ghost. Someone’s after a treasure allegedly hidden in the hotel and the ghost wants to tell Angela—but can only communicate when Angela’s on the verge of orgasm.

Talk about awkward.

Angela—and the ghost—are both hot for new handyman Tyler Woodruff, but is he a knight in a shining pickup or the thief? In truth, he is there under false pretenses: he’s a fortune hunter who liberates unappreciated artifacts. Distracted by Angela’s wicked imagination and uninhibited bedroom antics, he doesn’t want to fall in love with her any more than she does with him.

But admitting their true feelings is the only way the ghost can reveal the nature of the treasure—and the real threat.

Intrigued? Check it out! It’s available in both paper and ebook formats at all the usual places.

Amazon / Amazon Kindle / Barnes & Noble / Kobo /Smashwords

 

4 Aug 2014

New Release: BLOOD AND LOTUSES

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

Book cover for BLOOD AND LOTUSES (attractive Asian man and woman with swords)

It’s time to celebrate another new release. Blood and Lotuses differs from my previous published novels and novellas in that it’s a romantic fantasy, rather than a fantasy or paranormal romance. You see into the villains’ heads as well as those of the lovers. The story is more violent than most of my books–and considering my Duals and Donovans series features carnivore shapeshifter heroes who don’t mind ripping bad guys into little tiny pieces if need be, that’s saying something. The stakes are higher. The sex is less explicit, although it’s extremely important to the way the story unfolds. And yet if you’ve read my other works, you’ll find some familiar elements. The conflict and villains might be allegories for modern politics. (Who? Me?) The heroine isn’t kick-ass in the urban-fantasy-heroine sense, but she’s tough. The hero has serious issues. And sex magic plays a crucial role.

Blood and Lotuses is my first solo indie title, and that’s a tale in itself. I’d submitted it to Samhain; my editor at the time liked it, but felt it was a poor fit for them because it wasn’t exactly a romance and contained some really dark elements including child prostitution and torture. I had faith this was a good book. I also knew it straddled genres enough that many publishers wouldn’t know what to do with it even if they liked it, especially since it’s novella length. I decided to self-publish. Last fall, I went to a great self-publishing conference to get myself prepared. (If this is held again, I heartily recommend it.) I had the manuscript edited by my wonderful friend Dayle Dermatis, and got a cover from Skyla Dawn Cameron’s Indigo Chick Designs. I even mentioned the book and my plans to self-publish it in my “year of yes” post at the beginning of 2014.

And then I froze. The notion of formating a book, figuring out new software, setting up accounts, intimidated me. Part of me felt like I shouldn’t spend my time working on publishing rather than writing, and part of me just didn’t feel like dealing with all those details. But more importantly, the idea of actually putting a book out there without someone else giving it their stamp of approval paralyzed me. Having an editor say, “I’ll buy this” reassured me my work was worthy. What if this one wasn’t? And what if I published the book and, even if the writing was good, it looked amateurish because I screwed up the formatting?

What finally broke me out of my paralysis was helping someone else. (Typical!) I work as a personal assistant for a Realtor as my day job. She’d written a book (not related to real estate) and wanted to publish it herself. As her assistant, I found myself figuring out the process for her while she was busy doing things I can’t do, like selling houses. And because my own ego and fears weren’t involved, and it wasn’t my “baby” I was dealing with, I was able to do so calmly and see it wasn’t that hard. A lot of steps, sure…but also plenty of opportunities to fix mistakes at every step of the process, even after you hit PUBLISH.

This experience taught me several things. I’m my own worst enemy sometimes. Sometimes the best way to get through a fear is to ask “What’s the worst thing that can happen?” and realize the answer is “Nothing that awful.” A guaranteed hourly wage, even if it’s not a huge one, can be a better motivation sometimes than possibilities of future fortune and fame.

And I want a personal assistant of my own some day. :-)

A bit more about the book:

When love is outlawed, only the bravest lovers can defeat an inhuman foe.

A demon in the guise of a goddess is “purifying” the great city of Dakura by killing off its stores of love, desire, and beauty. Once the city is void of color and passion, the demon can claim the city for its base to conquer the whole mortal world.

Anchali, a priestess of the goddess of love and desire, infiltrates the temple of the false goddess, along with her reluctant guardian Thanom, a soldier whose wife was murdered in a demon-inspired purge. They’re hoping to get information to pass on to a rebel general who hopes to roust the cult from Dakura. What they find, though, tells them this isn’t a job for warriors.

It’s a job for lovers, using the power of passion to enact an ancient ritual.

Anchali can perform the ritual. But first she has to convince a broken-hearted man to love again.

Compared to that, defeating a demon is child’s play.

Warning: Contains more explicit violence and less explicit sex than usual in a Teresa Noelle Roberts novel, along with all the magic and romance you’ve come to expect.

At the moment, Blood and Lotuses is available exclusively at Amazon, though it will be coming for other formats and vendors after the ninety days of Kindle Select exclusivity is passed. Buy it here.