« Older Entries Subscribe to Latest Posts

17 Dec 2014

A holiday read for a different holiday: A Satyr for Midwinter

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

cover for A Satyr for Midwinter--hansome satyr and scantily clad lovely lady embracing

‘Tis the season for Christmas romances, full of brightly lit, fragrant trees, quotes from familiar carols, and kisses under the mistletoe. They’re often sweet as sugar cookies and hot cocoa, even when they’re sexy, and they induce waves of nostalgia for holiday traditions that might not even be your own.

A Satyr for Midwinter (Seasons of Sorania Cycle 4) is a bit different because it centers on the Winter Solstice. While it’s set in a fantasy world (the satyr in the title kind of gives that away!) I drew on actual Solstice traditions of various cultures for my Soranian holiday celebrations, as well as creating a few that fit with my imaginary culture. The Soranian religion, like many religions in the agrarian ancient world, focuses on the growing season, the needs of the land–and not surprisingly, uses human fertility and sexuality as part of its rites, a metaphor for the earth’s fertility. This story, of a satyr in need of healing, a noblewoman in need of joy and magic, and a sexy ghost, isn’t your classic Christmas romance–yet there’s a core of life-affirming sweetness as they celebrate the return of the light and let light and love into their own lives that I think fits the “holiday romance” genre.

Blurb: Laeca, Lady of Thermanae, missed out on the incredible good looks that bless the rest of her family–not to mention the talent for healing and sex-magic.

What she has is determination, pride, honor, and an unwavering dedication to the land and people of Thermanae. All its people, both human and satyr. She can’t remember the last time she let herself have fun. Sex is something that happens on the erotically charged Soranian holy days–if she actually has time to attend the festivals.

When a sick satyr collapses at her feet on Midwinter’s Day, Laeca realizes she’ll be passing on the yet another festival in order to nurse him, hoping common sense and herb tea will make up for lack of healing magic. But when she realizes Kallios is at death’s door because he wants to follow his murdered beloved, she makes a vow on her family honor to save him. By any means necessary. Including by restoring his will to live by reminding him how much fun sex is.

In the Soranian Empire, though, vows made on holy days have unexpected consequences. Or maybe Kallios’ dead lover’s ghost understands what the living need better than they do. Before the Longest Night is done, Laeca will find her magic and risk her life. Kallios will learn his dead lover isn’t necessarily gone. And all of them, including the dead man, will be changed by the powers of love, magic and the Longest Night.

Sexy excerpt:

The satyr’s lips met hers, tasting of honey and wine, and faintly underneath, of the herbs she’d given him. He gripped her hard enough to bruise.No one had ever done that to her before. She’d never had a lover who wasn’t aware she was Laeca, daughter of Thermanae and later Lady of Thermanae, who didn’t know her fierce, dangerous father and brother and even more dangerous mother and aunties—who didn’t feel he had to be careful with her.

Kallios could be rough with passion because he didn’t need to worry about such things. She didn’t know if the roughness itself or the fact he wasn’t from her world, didn’t come to her burdened with preconceptions, was what aroused her so. All she knew was that her pussy flooded at the edge of not-quite-pain.

Her body arched against his. “Now,” she said, breathing the words into his open mouth but knowing he’d still understand. “Please. Need you inside me.”

He lay back and raised her hips. “You’ll have to do most of the work, Laeca. Will you ride me?”

“Lord and Lady, yes!” She eased herself down onto the broad head of his cock.

She started off slowly, a bit awed by his size, by the slightly different,not-exactly human shape. But it felt too good.

She couldn’t be patient. Not when it had been so long.

And apparently he couldn’t be either, because he pulled her down just as she made up her mind to push herself.

Laeca gasped. She was full, so full it almost hurt, and yet it felt better than any lovemaking she’d ever experienced. “Sweet Lord and Lady,” she
swore—or was it a prayer?—and began to move over him, rising and falling on that great cock.

His hands gripped her, helping her move, helping her find the rhythm they both needed. The room grew heated, and not from the fire.

It was the day that edged into the Longest Night of Midwinter. Snow gripped Thermanae and the wind carried the sharp steel edge of a blizzard roaring in from the wilds.

And yet Laeca’s chamber filled with the scents of a warmer season—fresh fruit heated by the sun, herbs and grass crushed by lovers lying down
together in the hills, new wine, rich and heady, the sweetness of honey. And mingled with all that was another scent, an elusive yet heady musk
that got into her blood before she could identify it.

“Please,” she said, her voice alien to her, a seductress’s throaty whisper, not her own forthright, sardonic, occasionally commanding tone. “I need…I need…” Her voice trailed off. She wasn’t sure what she needed.

“You need about a week of my undivided attention when I am at my full strength. So much banked fire in you.”

Buy links: Amazon US / Phaze / All Romance Ebooks / Kobo

 

14 Dec 2014

A (NSFW) Taste of SEXY IN YOUR STOCKING…

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. 1 Comment

Cover for Sexy in Your Stocking

Does someone on your gift list need something sexy in their stocking? Then Sophie Mouette, Andrea Dale and I have a gift idea for you!

From the naughty minds of three of today’s top erotica authors—Andrea Dale, Sophie Mouette, & Teresa Noelle Roberts—comes a collection filled with winter holiday delights! So curl up in front of a roaring fire, sip some eggnog, and tell Santa that on Christmas morning, you want to find something…Sexy in Your Stocking!

• The Queen of Christmas
• Frozen
• On the Twelfth Day
• Let It Snow
• Santa Claus is Comin’
• Mrs. Claus and the Naughty Elf
• Christmas Blizzard
• Happy Krampusnacht
• Running Away From Christmas
• A Bird in the Hand
• Bringing Back the Light
• Hidden Treasure

 

Here’s a naughty little snippet from “Happy Krampusnacht,” in which a loving kinky couple make a tradition of incorporating “Santa’s dark and twisted sidekick who carried a whip and switches” into their Christmas celebrations:

Krampusnacht card - demon threatening Victorian young woman who doesn't look all that upset

I don’t think she looks all that distressed, do you? More like playing along with the scene…

The cuffs were black leather lined with black fur and it didn’t take much to pretend that Krampus held me down with magic that was basically an extension of himself.

The spanking bench affected me differently from bending over a bed or chair, as I usually did, or Ben did when it was his turn on the receiving end. Immobilized in a somewhat awkward position, my ass high, my head low, my wet pussy exposed, I felt helpless, deliciously helpless, a prisoner in the anteroom of hell where Krampus entertained his wicked captives.

Lucky me.

Ben began to spank me, his gloved hand smacking hard into my ass. “You’re wet,” he growled before long. “You know you need correction, don’t you? It makes you feel good.” I yelped something that vaguely resembled yes, followed by a sigh. Even though he started with spanking rather than jumping right to switches and whips, this wasn’t a gentle, gradual warm-up. He started out hard and pushed harder with each spank, and soon my ass felt as red as Santa’s suit. It throbbed hotly, and my pussy throbbed in time with it. The sensation radiated out from my butt, and soon I felt warm and fuzzy and floaty, despite the occasional yelp of surprise at a particularly hard blow.

“Say it. You need correction and punishment.”

No argument there. “Oh God yes, I need this.”

“Good. Then it’s time for the next stage of your punishment. It takes a devil to beat the devil out of someone, you know.”

It was time for the flogger on his belt. He put it under my face, letting me get a good look. The falls were braided, heavy looking but soft. It would be thuddy.

“Kiss it,” he snarled. “Prove to me that you accept your punishment. That you crave it.”

I pressed my lips to the soft leather, breathing in its luscious, erotic smell. Then I looked up, hoping to see Ben’s eyes in Krampus’s latex face, but he was already moving behind me.

It was Ben who gently kissed my glowing butt and whispered, “Love you.” It was Krampus who used the flogger.

Order in print from Amazon

Order in print from Powell’s

Order in print from Barnes & Noble

Also available in ebook format (perfect for keeping stealthily amused during the family holiday festivities):

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Smashwords

This naughtiness brought to you by the Masturbation Monday blog hop! Fair warning: clicking on the icon below will bring you to a page with an explicit GIF on it, as well as to links for other sexy excerpts. It’s all good, clean dirty fun if you like dirty pictures and dirtier words, but not a good idea if you’re if you’re at the office, or if you don’t like that kind of thing. Then again, if you didn’t like that kind of thing you wouldn’t have read this far, since I was talking about erotic bondage and flogging. (Maybe you need a visit from Krampus, you delightfully naughty creature!)

 

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

9 Dec 2014

Lisa Carlisle visits with Dark Muse & the Chateau Seductions series

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

Dark-Muse

Lisa Carlisle is a member of NECRWA, my RWA chapter, a charming person, and a very good writer. Today I’m welcoming her to the blog to talk about her new book Dark Muse. Oooh, doesn’t that just sound sexy?

Dark Muse

Chateau Seductions series

It takes time before Gina Meiro warms up to people and her shyness is often misunderstood. She hasn’t had to worry about meeting new people at a remote art colony until a new resident arrives—a rock guitarist more suited for a billboard. Her carefree days of painting at the medieval-styled castle on a remote New England island are shattered when she stumbles right into his welcome gathering.

After a falling out with his band, Dante Riani wants nothing more at Les Beaux Arts on DeRoche Island than solitude to work on new songs. When a shy young painter asks to paint him at sunset, he’s tempted by the opportunity to be alone with her.

Someone at the colony claims to know what Dante is and asks for his help. Dante fears his plans are coming undone, especially as grows more drawn to Gina. Her scent and vulnerability are too difficult to resist. But he must stay away from her—she would never understand his secret.

 

Excerpt

Gina bit her lip, building up the courage to speak her mind. “Actually, I was thinking something,” she confessed.

“Go on.”

“It may sound weird, and feel free to say no if it is.”

Dante’s eyes widened. “Something kinky?” he teased.

“No,” she swatted his arm. “Nothing like that.”

“How disappointing. So what’s on your mind?”

“I noticed you when I was inside the castle.” She left out the part about how long and how many days she had done this. “The silhouette of you playing guitar against the sunset is a perfect juxtaposition. Dark against light. The color contrast. The musician playing into the sunset. Brilliant.”

“Hmm.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m wondering where this is going.”

“Would you mind if I painted you one day?”

A smile crept from the corner of his decadent lips. “You don’t paint people often.”

She raised her chin. “I make exceptions when I see something worth painting.” Was she flirting? Time to shut the hell up. Heat rose in from her chest up to her cheeks. Always one to throw an awkward statement, she added, “Nobody would have to know it was you,” she added. “I’d hide your face.”

“You don’t like my face?” The hint of a smile developed into a full blown smirk.

“No!” She protested. “I do.” Shut up, Gina. You’re making it worse. “I meant for your privacy.”

“So you do like my face?” He grinned.

“I’m a p-painter,” she stammered. “I’m looking at this strictly as an artist not letting an opportunity slip her by.”

“So it’s for art, eh?” His eyes twinkled with amusement.

She nodded. This was a better move than trying to speak.

“I’ll think about it. Had plenty of photo shoots with the band, but never a painting. That’s kind of cool.” He stood up, picked up his guitar, and took a few steps toward the castle. Then he stopped and turned back. “I’d be careful about watching me too closely.”

“Why?” She smiled to match the sassy tone in her voice.

The smirk that had lingered on his face dropped away, replaced by a serious expression. “You might not like what you see.”

Buy Now

Amazon
B&N
iBooks
Kobo
All Romance Ebooks

Add to Goodreads
About Lisa Carlisle:

Lisa Carlisle is a USA Today Bestselling author of romance and suspense. She loves stories with dark, brooding heroes and independent, caring heroines. Her romances have been named Top Picks at Night Owl Reviews and All Romance Ebooks. When she was younger, she worked at a variety of jobs in various countries. She backpacked alone through Europe and lived in Paris before returning to the U.S. and draws on her travels for inspiration for settings. Lisa also owned a bookstore for a few years as she loves to read. She’s now married with two kids, has a cat and many fish.

Connect with Lisa:

Newsletter: http://www.lisacarlislebooks.com/subscribe

Website: http://www.lisacarlislebooks.com

Blog: http://www.lisacarlislebooks.com/news

Twitter: https://twitter.com/LisaCBooks – @lisacbooks

Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/lisacarlisleauthor

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6463824.Lisa_Carlisle
Amazon page: http://www.amazon.com/Lisa-Carlisle/e/B009C7T8L4/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1413555884&sr=8-2-ent

 

6 Dec 2014

Congratulations, Trix!

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

champagne

 

You won the copy of Witches’ Waves in the Cranberries and Spice Blog Hop. I’ve emailed you for more info.

 

Logo for Cranberries and Spice blog hop. Click for links to the other blog hop posts.

Click to find the rest of the Cranberries and Spice T’giving blog hop!

22 Nov 2014

Cranberries and Spice Blog Hop: How about a magical ménage made in the ocean?

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. 7 Comments

Happy weekend before Thanksgiving for US-based readers and happy random late-November day to everyone else. If you’re here from the Cranberries and Spice blog hop, welcome to my little corner of the Internet. Feel free to roam around and check out my various series, sign up for the mailing list, etc. (Same goes for the rest of you, but if you’re a regular visitor, you know where everything is.)

Today’s offering is from a brand-new paranormal release, Witches’ Waves (Duals and Donovans: the Different book 4) is explicit, so if your kid, your prim Aunt Ruth (or your boss, if you’re not in the US and enjoying a holiday) is looking over your shoulder, you might want to distract them. If your SO is looking, on the other hand…do enjoy. Together.

Want a gift for yourself this holiday season? Comment below to win an e-book copy of Witches’ Waves, your choice of formats. Drawing will take place on December 6, once the blog hop is over. Be sure to visit the other writers taking part in the Cranberries and Spice blog hop for more yummy (and non-caloric) excerpts and more chances to win. All the links are below.

 

Witches' Waves book cover

The ocean is on their side. But the fight is on land—and it’s about to get dirty.

Long held captive as the Agency’s secret weapon—a blind witch with visions—Meaghan has come to a line she refuses to cross. Rather than betray the infant “child of five bloods” to the Agency’s scientists, she chooses death. Except when she throws herself into the ocean, she doesn’t die. Her repressed water magic comes to life.

When the sodden, delirious witch drifts into Kyle’s arms, his otter dual instincts tell him to get her to the Donovans as fast as possible. Even though one particular surfer-dude Donovan broke his heart.

Declan Donovan continually kicks himself for pushing Kyle away, but his touchy combination of water, earth and lightning magic is too volatile, and Kyle wanted more than Deck was ready to give.

When they come together to help Meaghan control her new magic, it leads the Agency straight to the child of five bloods. They’ll have to dive head-first into total trust—in their magics, in themselves and in each other—to save the child and stop the Agency once and for all.

Warning: Contains an oceanful of sex between an ethereal blind heroine who swears like a pissed-off Marine, an overly serious otter shifter, a would-be beach bum who may be descended from a Norse god, in permutations as fluid as the sea – and themes of abuse and recovery

Duals and Donovans Series blurb:

Welcome to an America where the non-human Different and magically gifted humans live among ordinary people. Witches are both feared and honored, but shape-shifting duals are treated as second-class citizens. The Agency, a government agency that’s supposed to monitor illegal uses of magic and Different abilities, has developed its own dangerous agenda. But when Duals and witches join forces, the Agency and other bad guys aren’t going to know what hit them.

And neither are the witches and Duals. Witch magic grows from the positive energy of love and sex–and the only thing better than one dual for sex magic is two of them!

* * *

And now for something a little naughty, in which the blind witch Meaghan finds herself in a most enviable position:

“Please,” she moaned.

“Not yet,” Deck answered, surprising her. “I’m preparing Kyle. While he’s in you, I’m going to be in him. And later, we’ll switch. I want your pussy too.”

Meaghan hadn’t thought she could get any hotter, but Deck’s words, and the thought of him lying over both of them—fucking both of them, in a sense—aroused her even more. It must have worked on Kyle too because he made a strangled sound and sank into her.

“Impatient,” Deck chided, but he didn’t sound like he meant it.

Kyle’s cock felt perfect inside her. No, it wasn’t just Kyle’s cock that felt perfect. Kyle’s energy, Kyle’s spirit made the difference. His energy rippled over her skin as his hands did, touched places inside her deeper than his cock could reach. He was moving carefully, as if he didn’t want to come too soon or he feared he might break her, but she could sense a great tension. She moved to meet his thrusts, hoping to encourage him to let go.

Then Deck added his weight and heat to Kyle’s. Kyle growled deep in his throat and thrust harder into her. Deck’s magic embraced her. When the aural rainbow started to flash in her darkness, she didn’t fight it. She swore she felt it as Deck penetrated Kyle. Felt it as if he’d entered her, felt it as if she’d grown a cock and was entering someone’s hot, tight ass.

Kyle’s thrusts became harder, wilder, in time with the way Deck was fucking him, fast and furious and just what she wanted at this time. He bit at her shoulders, neck and breasts, staying just on the right side of the line between pain and pleasure. The one time he got too rough and she yelped, Deck murmured, “Careful, otter,” and apparently tugged on Kyle’s hair because he eased up and raised his head.

She could feel the two men kissing then, feel their tongues intertwining, feel the slight strain on Kyle because he was twisted around, and the way Deck took control of the kiss even though Kyle nipped at his tongue with sharp teeth.

Then Kyle was kissing her. His teeth were sharper than they’d been before, as if the animalside wanted to get out but he was reining it in. And Deck was there too. Though his hands were on Kyle’s hips and he touched her only with his legs, his saltwater and earth and lightning energy filled her.

Her magic swelled under their blissful assault, swelled so it filled her skin and then spilled over, a cool, damp ocean breeze teasing their heated skins. She didn’t know what to do with the energy, but she felt Deck’s magic, the red magic, reach out and seize some of it. “Ground,” he said, “Ground into us. I can make it work.” That seemed dangerous, but Deck touched one hand to her chest, over her heart, and suddenly she knew what to do.

The red flares in their auras surged until red was everywhere. “Now,” Deck ordered, and she had no doubt it was an order. “Now. Come for me.” Kyle cried out, a strange chittering, keening noise that didn’t sound like it should come from his wordside body, and he surged into her. Her arousal peaked, carrying her higher until she was flying in their arms.

Then she fell, but she was falling through warm, caressing magic, and the men fell with her, keeping her safe.

When she came back to herself, still weightless yet full of magic and love, her skin tingling with shared energy, she started to cry.

 

Buy links: Samhain /Amazon / Amazon UK / B&N Nook / Kobo

 

 Loading InLinkz ...

18 Nov 2014

WITCHES’ WAVES Breaks Today…Here’s a Sexy Bit to Celebrate (NSFW)

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

Witches' Waves book cover

Witches’ Waves is out at last! It’s almost bittersweet, because this book marks the end of a major story arc in the Duals and Donovans universe. I’m going to revisit the witchy Donovan clan and their sexy, part-time furry friends and lovers, but they’ll be playing in an altered world with new rules and new antagonists. Possibly new settings, too…I have a couple of ideas set in exotic settings. Venice. Borneo. Fun for me to contemplate as a writer, but it’ll be the start of a second series.

In any case, since the book’s finally out, I wanted to celebrate with a sexy excerpt. Remember as you read it that the heroine Meaghan is blind, so she’s learning about her new lovers, Kyle and Deck, without being able to see them. (A shame from a sighted person’s perspective, because they resemble these two famous hotties. Luckily for the reader, Kyle and Deck can see just fine and describe each other, and Meaghan, in yummy detail.)

Actor Tom Hiddleston (not playing Loki) Deck aka Chris Hemenworth

Before she could ask any more questions, four strong but gentle hands encouraged her to lie down on the big, rumpled bed.

Kyle’s mouth closed over her right nipple, hot, teasing. Deck lay on her other side, his broad-shouldered body pressed against her, every inch of skin that touched her a benediction.

Deck’s long hair spread over her skin, silky and feather soft—he’d used the drying spell on himself too, obviously—as he took her other nipple into his mouth. He and Kyle were doing the same thing, but it felt so different. Deck’s mouth was cooler than Kyle’s, and his hand, cupping her breast, was both bigger and rougher. Rougher in the sense of more calloused, rougher in the sense of firmer and surer. He nipped occasionally. Kyle touched her as if she might break, but his lean body was taut with energy, as if he was holding back from the full force of what he wanted to do to her. He felt sleek where she touched him, sleek and hot, even though he’d been in the frigid water in his otter form far longer than they’d been immersed, and she and Deck were still cool. His hot mouth and Deck’s merely warm one suckled and licked at her nipples, and the sensations broke in waves over her body. Both men stroked her skin as if she were some great cat.

The hair on Deck’s chest was crisp under her fingers. He swore under his breath when she brushed over his nipples, and she made a mental note to go back and investigate that more. But right now she was exploring. Playing.

Seeing her new lovers the only way she could, and enjoying it to the fullest. She couldn’t picture either of them—it had been too long since she’d been able to see and she couldn’t translate the information her fingertips collected into anything like a visual image—but she could learn a lot through touching them.

She knew both men were strong, but Deck’s muscles seemed bigger, bulkier, while Kyle’s were more sleek. Even his abs were different from Kyle’s. She swore she could feel their delineation, and understood for the first time what authors meant when they talked about “six-pack abs.”

Inch by inch, she explored that difference, one hand on Deck’s belly, the other on Kyle’s, until they both made beautiful, obscene noises.

Only then did she try to move down to their cocks. Kyle still squirmed away. Deck sighed and let her stroke him. He felt big, more thick than long, and surprisingly silky for all his hardness.

But though Kyle was playing hard to get, he was the first to reach between her legs, parting the damp curls there to find her clit. She opened her legs wider to allow him access.

She shouldn’t. Maybe she should at least say something. But the part of her brain that would take care of that kind of thing was floating away on waves of pleasure and words seemed far way. Besides, she felt secure behind the shields Deck had helped her set earlier.

As soon as Deck and Kyle had taken her in their arms, the shields had become thicker, yet at the same time more flexible—deep water that wouldn’t transmit anything she didn’t want.

She was safe.

And so she relaxed into Kyle’s touch.

“You’re like the ocean,” Kyle whispered.

“Cold and stormy?” That was Deck, but even as he spoke, he shifted his body. It meant that Meaghan lost her grip on his cock, but it was so worth it.

Because Deck was kissing his way down her body, each touch of his lips setting off sparks. Kyle circled her clit with exquisite delicacy. Almost too delicate, almost a tease, but at the same time it felt so good she wouldn’t want him to change what he was doing. Even though she couldn’t see, instinct made her squeeze her eyes shut. As she did, the men’s auras reappeared, bright and vibrant, streaked with red. She couldn’t study her lovers’ faces and bodies, but she could see their energies, their spirits, which was something most sighted people couldn’t say.

Deck’s mouth closed over her clit, taking the place of Kyle’s clever fingers. As she spread her legs wider, hoping for still more contact, Kyle slipped two fingers inside her.

She gasped, arched up, pounded her fists into the mattress in pleasurable shock. She didn’t know where to put her hands after that, but she didn’t want to leave them fisted in the sheets when there was so much wonderful male flesh to explore, so she let her instincts lead her and she wound up with one on Deck’s head, one on Kyle’s. The contrast between Deck’s long hair and Kyle’s short-cropped pelt added more sensation to the ones already washing over her. Deck had one hand on her belly. She thought the other must be touching Kyle.

A circle of touch. A circle of energy, energy that crackled through her until she saw the red of sex magic everywhere.

She knew from books that men sometimes went down on women and it supposedly felt amazing. But the books hadn’t captured half of it—the vulnerability and the power, the contrast between soft, slick lips and tongue, and hard, probing fingers. Kyle worked in a third finger, and she was full, so wonderfully full. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced. It was as exhilarating as working magic, exhilarating as the ocean, exhilarating as freedom. Her blood felt carbonated again, her skin sparkly, and Deck and Kyle worked together in near-perfect rhythm, as if they’d choreographed the whole thing.

Her inner muscles clenched around Kyle’s fingers, and he let out a soft, “Damn, girl!” She tried to stay quiet and not thrash around too much, but Deck’s tongue was so skilled, and once in a while he’d nip her mound or pubic lips, not painfully, just enough to add a new level of sensation. She couldn’t help yipping at that, and then moaning with pleasure as Deck laved the bitten spot with his tongue.

“That’s right, Meaghan,” Deck crooned. “Let it out. Let us know how good it feels.” Then he returned his attention to her clit. Kyle didn’t break his rhythm, but he bit the inside of her thigh.

The words and that lightly nipping kiss broke her control completely. She cried out, thrashed.

She’d felt secure earlier, sure that no visions could find her here, but as orgasm approached, she panicked and tried to hold back, at least long enough to warn the guys what might happen. But she couldn’t speak, at least not to say anything that complex. When she tried, all that came out were more gasps and moans, the only recognizable words please and yes and more. Her brain might think she should play safe, but her body had its own ideas. And damn it if she didn’t think her body had a point.

When she realized it was inevitable that she was going to come, she made a last frantic attempt to reinforce her shields. It wasn’t the elegant structure Deck had taught her to make, but she thought she’d managed to cobble another layer of protection, fighting the bubbles in her blood, the tickling, dancing sensation on her skin, the storm surge of ecstasy that stole her thoughts.

Then it burst over her and she could do nothing except cry out and writhe and tremble. Deck and Kyle didn’t stop but pushed her higher and higher. She felt like the top of her head had opened up, but no vision poured in, no terrifying images of death and destruction, just warmth and more bubbles and sparks and what she knew, though she couldn’t see it, was light. As she exploded with a second, even more powerful convulsion, she gripped Deck’s hair in her fist without meaning to, dug her fingernails into Kyle’s shoulder. Her body was out of her own control, and it was like having a seizure in that aspect, but she was fully present, fully aware. There was no one in her head but her, no one in the room with her—or for all she cared, in the world—but Kyle and Deck.

It took her awhile, at first, to make out what Kyle was asking her: “May we fuck you? Please…we’d like to be inside you.”

She couldn’t manage to speak, but she nodded eagerly.

Kyle and Deck chatted briefly, below even her keen hearing.

Then Kyle moved up her body. She felt his energy, lithe and aquatic and somehow contained, before she felt his cock nudging the slick opening of her sex. Gliding over her clit. Teasing and tempting. She pushed her hips up, tried to angle herself so he’d enter her now. Teasing was fun, teasing was lovely, but she was ready. So ready. More ready than she’d ever imagined being. “Please,” she moaned.

“Not yet,” Deck answered, surprising her. “I’m preparing Kyle. While he’s in you, I’m going to be in him. And later, we’ll switch. I want your pussy too.”

 

Buy links: Samhain /Amazon / Amazon UK / B&N Nook / Kobo

The ocean is on their side. But the fight is on land—and it’s about to get dirty.

Duals and Donovans: The Different, Book 4

Long held captive as the Agency’s secret weapon—a blind witch with visions—Meaghan has come to a line she refuses to cross. Rather than betray the infant “child of five bloods” to the Agency’s scientists, she chooses death. Except when she throws herself into the ocean, she doesn’t die. Her repressed water magic comes to life.

When the sodden, delirious witch drifts into Kyle’s arms, his otter dual instincts tell him to get her to the Donovans as fast as possible. Even though one particular surfer-dude Donovan broke his heart.

Declan Donovan continually kicks himself for pushing Kyle away, but his touchy combination of water, earth and lightning magic is too volatile, and Kyle wanted more than Deck was ready to give.

When they come together to help Meaghan control her new magic, it leads the Agency straight to the child of five bloods. They’ll have to dive head-first into total trust—in their magics, in themselves and in each other—to save the child and stop the Agency once and for all.

 

Warning: Contains an oceanful of sex between an ethereal blind heroine who swears like a pissed-off Marine, an overly serious otter shifter, a would-be beach bum who may be descended from a Norse god, in permutations as fluid as the sea – and themes of abuse and recovery.

 

Series blurb:

Welcome to an America where the non-human Different and magically gifted humans live among ordinary people. Witches are both feared and honored, but shape-shifting duals are treated as second-class citizens. The Agency, a government agency that’s supposed to monitor illegal uses of magic and Different abilities, has developed its own dangerous agenda. But when Duals and witches join forces, the Agency and other bad guys aren’t going to know what hit them.

And neither are the witches and Duals. Witch magic grows from the positive energy of love and sex–and the only thing better than one dual for sex magic is two of them!

17 Nov 2014

Another WITCHES’ WAVES teaser

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

Witches' Waves book cover

“Uncle Deck? You’ve got people here to see you.”

He looked up and saw the last person on earth he’d ever expected to see again, holding the arm of a ghost-pale, blonde girl.

Deck sifted frantically through his brain, trying to find the right words or, failing that, any words at all. “What are you doing here after I sent you away?” popped into his head but it wasn’t right because he meant something more along the lines of “How did you know I didn’t mean it, that I just needed more time?”

Elissa solved the problem of what to say by shouting in something very unlike her usual would-be-sultry-if-she-wasn’t-his-cousin voice, “You!” pointing her finger at the interlopers like a character in a silent-movie melodrama.

“I see you’ve met Kyle,” Deck said drily. “He has that effect on people.”

As the accusatory voice vibrated through Meaghan’s bones, she felt a seizure coming on. “Lay me down,” she whispered urgently, but Kyle was already easing her onto the grass. To her dismay, someone else—someone who was probably the woman who yelled at her, because those hands were small, though strong and calloused—was helping.

The vision surged over her, and for the first time she knew what it felt like: like being sucked under by a great wave, with no hope of rescue. The ocean frightened her less, though. The ocean might have killed her, but it loved her at the same time. This just hurt.

Her body arched. Her hair stood on end. The stench of blood and a child’s panicked cries filled her brain. But for some reason, it wasn’t as bad as it normally was, not as painful, not as all-encompassing. She was still herself inside the vision, retaining some control.

Suddenly she knew who the woman was, the one who’d called out to her as if she knew Meaghan and had reason to hate her. “Child of five bloods is…your child, I think.” The words came out hard and harsh, fighting against the vision. “In danger. Agency knows her. Knows her name and what she is, anyway. And she’s here. I can feel her. You must…protect her. She matters…in some cosmic way…not just because she’s a kid.”

The vision fought through her words, filling her mind with a family’s anguish, a child’s terror, death.

And hints of what the Agency wanted with the baby, the destruction they could force from her innocence and power.

Meaghan reared up, started to scream.

Two sets of arms wrapped around her, easing her back to the ground. Two male bodies, moving almost as one, lay down, one on each side of her as if to protect her from the voices in her head. One was Kyle. She recognized his ocean-and-fur presence. The other was a stranger, tall, solid, and even though he was a stranger, safe in a way she couldn’t explain. “Shield, dammit,” a strange male voice said. He sounded angry but Meaghan knew he was just afraid. “Shield. Work with me, babe. Shield.”

“I can’t…” she started to say, but suddenly she found she could. Her rudimentary shielding that kept out the buzz of other people’s minds never stood up to the force of the visions, but this time a wall of water, flexible but impermeable, rose up between her and the horrors she’d been forced to experience. Hidden inside those walls, her body lost some of its rigidity. Her hair flopped down again like it was supposed to.

And she transported into another vision, but this time it was the delightful one of making love with two men in the ocean.

Like most of her visions, she’d forgotten the details when she snapped out of it, but now they came back, sensual and vivid.

How had she not realized that Kyle was one of the two men, the one she’d recognized as nonhuman?

This deep-voiced, hard-bodied stranger who felt vibrant and liquid and right in her head, was the other.

She sank farther, not fighting anymore, letting sensation take her.

She didn’t have time to enjoy it, though, because the woman was there, pushing the man who wasn’t Kyle aside to kneel beside her. “What about my baby?” the woman demanded, her voice hoarse as if she’d already been crying for days. “I saw you in my baby’s mind. I thought you were in league with Chenier or Shaw, but you’re no sorcerer. Victim of a sorcerer, maybe. How does the Agency know about my baby?”

Ocean view--rough sea and rocks (Maine, not Oregon, but it gets the point across)

Buy links: Samhain /Amazon / Amazon UK / B&N Nook / Kobo

 

The ocean is on their side. But the fight is on land—and it’s about to get dirty.

Duals and Donovans: The Different, Book 4

Long held captive as the Agency’s secret weapon—a blind witch with visions—Meaghan has come to a line she refuses to cross. Rather than betray the infant “child of five bloods” to the Agency’s scientists, she chooses death. Except when she throws herself into the ocean, she doesn’t die. Her repressed water magic comes to life.

When the sodden, delirious witch drifts into Kyle’s arms, his otter dual instincts tell him to get her to the Donovans as fast as possible. Even though one particular surfer-dude Donovan broke his heart.

Declan Donovan continually kicks himself for pushing Kyle away, but his touchy combination of water, earth and lightning magic is too volatile, and Kyle wanted more than Deck was ready to give.

When they come together to help Meaghan control her new magic, it leads the Agency straight to the child of five bloods. They’ll have to dive head-first into total trust—in their magics, in themselves and in each other—to save the child and stop the Agency once and for all.

 

Warning: Contains an oceanful of sex between an ethereal blind heroine who swears like a pissed-off Marine, an overly serious otter shifter, a would-be beach bum who may be descended from a Norse god, in permutations as fluid as the sea – and themes of abuse and recovery.

 

Series blurb:

Welcome to an America where the non-human Different and magically gifted humans live among ordinary people. Witches are both feared and honored, but shape-shifting duals are treated as second-class citizens. The Agency, a government agency that’s supposed to monitor illegal uses of magic and Different abilities, has developed its own dangerous agenda. But when Duals and witches join forces, the Agency and other bad guys aren’t going to know what hit them.

And neither are the witches and Duals. Witch magic grows from the positive energy of love and sex–and the only thing better than one dual for sex magic is two of them!

 

 

 

14 Nov 2014

First Excerpt: Witches’ Waves

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

For a wonder, this one is actually safe for work. It’s a plotty bit from the very beginning, setting up the whole story:

Witches' Waves book cover

“I’d like you to take me to the ocean for my birthday.” Meaghan forced her voice to stay calm, to make the request seem utterly bland, like she was an ordinary young woman who wanted to do something particular on a special birthday. Forced herself to turn in her chair and look toward Garrett, her nurse and caregiver. Most sighted people seemed perturbed that she could meet their eyes as often as not, but not Garrett. He said it was a combination of attention to detail and her magic.

Shaw always said the same thing but she wasn’t going to think about Shaw now.

Any more than she was going to dwell on the minor issue that because she’d lived in this Agency hospital since she was a child, she wasn’t sure what state she was in, let alone how close they were to a beach. If she spoke calmly enough, maybe Garrett would just go along with it. Sometimes he would bend the rules for her, but this went beyond bending and into outright shattering.

Especially since she had no intention of coming back. She suspected Garrett knew it.

He knew she was weary of being the Agency’s pet seer, a prisoner even if they called her a patient. Knew she was dying. Maybe that was why he wasn’t saying anything.

She had to break the silence. “Or a lake, if the ocean’s too far away. I just want to be near water. Outside the compound and near water.”

She felt Garrett smile at her. She could do that sometimes, when she concentrated, but only with him. It might be because he was Different too, like her, or maybe he smiled more profoundly than most people at the research hospital. “I wish I could, sweetie. It’s a couple of hours to my favorite beach, but that’s worth it for a special day. On a week day, it’s so quiet and peaceful we’d probably have it to ourselves. But I don’t think they’ll let me take you that far. You’re so delicate. They wouldn’t want to risk you.”

She sighed. “Garrett, I’m not delicate. I’m dying from a neurological disorder. I’m about to turn twenty-three and I’m not likely to make it to twenty-four. But I’m not dying in a way that a day at the beach will make worse.”

Unless her plan worked. Then she’d be dead on her own terms.

If it didn’t, at least she’d get that day at the beach, which would be one more pleasant thing to remember while she was stuck in the hospital, spewing out visions for the Agency.

Betraying others like herself, like she was bound to betray the baby she’d been seeing since early spring, the one that everyone wanted to know more about.

* * *

Intrigued? Here’s a blurb and other info:

The ocean is on their side. But the fight is on land—and it’s about to get dirty.

Witches’ Waves: Duals and Donovans: The Different, Book 4

Long held captive as the Agency’s secret weapon—a blind witch with visions—Meaghan has come to a line she refuses to cross. Rather than betray the infant “child of five bloods” to the Agency’s scientists, she chooses death. Except when she throws herself into the ocean, she doesn’t die. Her repressed water magic comes to life.

When the sodden, delirious witch drifts into Kyle’s arms, his otter dual instincts tell him to get her to the Donovans as fast as possible. Even though one particular surfer-dude Donovan broke his heart.

Declan Donovan continually kicks himself for pushing Kyle away, but his touchy combination of water, earth and lightning magic is too volatile, and Kyle wanted more than Deck was ready to give.

When they come together to help Meaghan control her new magic, it leads the Agency straight to the child of five bloods. They’ll have to dive head-first into total trust—in their magics, in themselves and in each other—to save the child and stop the Agency once and for all.

Warning: Contains an oceanful of sex between an ethereal blind heroine who swears like a pissed-off Marine, an overly serious otter shifter, a would-be beach bum who may be descended from a Norse god, in permutations as fluid as the sea – and themes of abuse and recovery.

Series blurb:

Welcome to an America where the non-human Different and magically gifted humans live among ordinary people. Witches are both feared and honored, but shape-shifting duals are treated as second-class citizens. The Agency, a government agency that’s supposed to monitor illegal uses of magic and Different abilities, has developed its own dangerous agenda. But when Duals and witches join forces, the Agency and other bad guys aren’t going to know what hit them.

* * *

Buy links: Samhain /Amazon / Amazon UK / B&N Nook / Kobo

 

14 Nov 2014

Where I’ll be December 6

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

Ad for 12/6 book fair in Needham, MA. Details in post

I’ll be taking part in a fun holiday book fair in Needham, MA, as myself and as Sophie Mouette. (The writer with two heads strikes again…though the other half of Sophie, Dayle Dermatis, has more “heads” or pseudonyms than I do.)

sexy cover web

If you’re in the Boston area on December 6, drop by the Residence Inn, 80 B Street, Needham MA between 12-4. Munch on cookies and other holiday goodies. Enjoy a cocktail. Meet authors, many in crazy holiday sweaters. Buy books (they make great gifts, you know! I recommend Sexy in Your Stocking for that special someone.). And maybe win some fabulous prizes, including a basket of Very Naughty Books from me. It’s all free. Well, except the cocktails. Sorry, we have to charge for those.

And you can get a special event-only discount code for Witches’ Waves, Out of Control, and some of my other ebooks.

Happy Holly-Daze (what things look like after a few too many cocktails!)

Happy Holly-Daze (what things look like after a few too many cocktails!)

 

 

12 Nov 2014

Witches’ Waves: visual inspirations

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

Witches' Waves book coverIt’s less than one week until Witches’ Waves breaks upon the world (11/18). I’m excited, as I always am. I’d have thought that by now I’d be calmer about book releases, but I still chitter like a baby otter learning to swim (though I’m not nearly as cute, I fear. And thankfully, not as furry.)

Before I get on to the blurb and excerpt, have I mentioned that surf-bum witch Deck Donovan looks a lot like this man? Yes, ladies (and gentlemen and others), the real-life “Thor” is a surfer. Since I started the book knowing one of my heroes was a surfer with lightning magic, it wasn’t hard to get inspired when I saw this photo series. Could life get any better for my heroine? you may ask.

Chris Hemsworth (better known as Thor) surfing

Well, in this book it can, because their other lover Kyle (overly serious otter shifter, also a surfer, with a genius IQ), looks a bit like Tom Hiddleston. I swear I’m not writing fan-fiction, but I knew from the get-go he’d be darker and less massively built than Deck. So when I realized Deck looked an awful look like Thor, I had to pull Loki in too. Kyle has dark eyes and is a bit shorter than TH is, but otherwise feel free to imagine this hot actor–who, like Kyle, is a bit intense but also has a sense of humor.

Actor Tom Hiddleston (not playing Loki)The only thing that keeps my heroine Meaghan from swooning from all this masculine beauty is she can’t actually see it. She’s blind. Luckily, she’s got a delicate touch, an active imagination, and, being a witch, the ability to sense auras even if she can’t see, so when she’s sandwiched between these two hunks, she knows how lucky she is.

Meaghan looks a bit like a young Nicole Kidman, ethereal and focused at the same time:

Young Nicole Kidman

Photo via: DEWITT REFERENCE: #262WW114075

But part of the inspiration for her came from an unlikely (visually, at least) source:

Randy Pierce & guide dog Quinn on top of mountainThat’s my friend Randy Pierce, writer, hiker, marathon runner, black belt, inspirational speaker, and founder of the nonprofit 2020 Vision Quest. Doesn’t look much like a heroine, does he? So what’s he doing here? Well, that adorable pup with him on top of that 4,000-ft peak is his late guide dog, the Mighty Quinn. Randy is completely blind, but he doesn’t let it stop from much. (Well, driving , but once those self-driving cars are available, there will be no stopping him.) I think it might have been hard to create a blind character who does some of the crazy, death-defying, world-saving things Meaghan does if I didn’t know Randy, who’s climbed all the White Mountains–twice, in winter and summer–and is planning on Kilimanjaro next year. With that in mind, it wasn’t a big stretch to imagine what a blind person with magical abilities might be able to achieve. My lanky, very male friend is hardly a visual inspiration for my slight, fair-haired female character, but he was an inspiration nevertheless.

And it’s all taking place on the coast of Oregon:

Jul09137

A few shots of the beach from a writers’ retreat in Lincoln City, OR.

Lincoln City, OR i Jul09136

And at last, the book info!

The ocean is on their side. But the fight is on land—and it’s about to get dirty.

Witches’ Waves: Duals and Donovans: The Different, Book 4

Long held captive as the Agency’s secret weapon—a blind witch with visions—Meaghan has come to a line she refuses to cross. Rather than betray the infant “child of five bloods” to the Agency’s scientists, she chooses death. Except when she throws herself into the ocean, she doesn’t die. Her repressed water magic comes to life.

When the sodden, delirious witch drifts into Kyle’s arms, his otter dual instincts tell him to get her to the Donovans as fast as possible. Even though one particular surfer-dude Donovan broke his heart.

Declan Donovan continually kicks himself for pushing Kyle away, but his touchy combination of water, earth and lightning magic is too volatile, and Kyle wanted more than Deck was ready to give.

When they come together to help Meaghan control her new magic, it leads the Agency straight to the child of five bloods. They’ll have to dive head-first into total trust—in their magics, in themselves and in each other—to save the child and stop the Agency once and for all.

Warning: Contains an oceanful of sex between an ethereal blind heroine who swears like a pissed-off Marine, an overly serious otter shifter, a would-be beach bum who may be descended from a Norse god, in permutations as fluid as the sea – and themes of abuse and recovery.

Series blurb:

Welcome to an America where the non-human Different and magically gifted humans live among ordinary people. Witches are both feared and honored, but shape-shifting duals are treated as second-class citizens. The Agency, a government agency that’s supposed to monitor illegal uses of magic and Different abilities, has developed its own dangerous agenda. But when Duals and witches join forces, the Agency and other bad guys aren’t going to know what hit them.

 

Buy links: Samhain /Amazon / Amazon UK / B&N Nook / Kobo

 

 

3 Nov 2014

NSFW Excerpt from OUT OF CONTROL for Masturbation Monday

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. 3 Comments

OutOfControl72lg

A little taste of self-pleasuring from my BDSM romance OUT OF CONTROL, for your Masturbation Monday pleasure. If you’re new to this feature, Masturbation Monday is a blog hop designed to make the start of the work juicier and more fun. There’s a link at the bottom of the post to still more sexy goodness to cheer the bleak start of the week. (Just remember to behave yourself at work. Unless, of course, you write erotic and romance, in which we can just call it part of your work day.)

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

Click for links to the rest of the hop.

His damn dick burst free once he unzipped, as if it expected to find a woman nearby.

As Drake flopped down on the unmade bed, he realized it smelled like he might find a woman in the tangled bedding. No wonder his dick was confused.

Normally he stripped the bed first thing on Sunday morning, a habit developed in opposition to his father, who tended to assume someone else would take care of anything domestic, even if the only “someone else” available was his young son. But Drake hadn’t gotten to the sheets yet, hoping that he’d have a chance to get them funkier before he got them clean. All he’d done was coil up the ropes again and stow them away—he had high hopes he’d need them later too, but he preferred them out of the way. He hadn’t even pulled the sheets straight, a bit of fussing he usually did right after getting up, since smooth sheets seemed more restful than the fractal surface of rumpled ones.

The bed wasn’t just rumpled but post-sex rumpled, the kind of tangled mess that one person wouldn’t create, and the room was rich with Jen’s musk. When he lay down, he couldn’t resist burying his head in the pillow, sniffing the subtle scent left behind by her freshly shampooed hair. He couldn’t place the scent, other than vaguely herbal, but he already recognized it as hers.

Good news for his dick, which was enjoying all the reminders of last night’s adventures. Bad news for his sanity. He was in too deep already and wanted to get deeper. Deeper into Jen’s body, into her mind, into her life.

Into her soul, he thought fiercely, and was startled by the thought, since he wasn’t sure he believed in souls.

He wasn’t weirded out enough to defeat his obstinate dick, though. Fine, he was here to indulge his wanton cock so he could get on with his day. Best to get started.

What was he thinking? He’d already gotten started. While his brain had been musing, his hand had been stroking his dick. But it would be much better if he concentrated, paid attention…

He tried to focus purely on sensation, but that wasn’t doing it. His own hand felt good jacking his junk, but he needed more to get release from the almost painful arousal. Jumbled images of rope and whips and anonymous female flesh crept into his brain and that was better, but it wasn’t good enough.

It wasn’t Jen.

As soon as he admitted that to himself, his garbled stock jacking-off images became strong, vivid memories of Jen’s wild hair on his pillow, Jen spread-eagled and bound and clenching on his cock, Jen’s noises, Jen’s musk, the way Jen’s ass felt under his hand as he’d spanked her that first time. And another vivid image, one he hadn’t actually seen yet: Jen kneeling, her knees spread wide so he could see her gleaming pussy, arms tightly bound behind her, wrist to elbow, waiting for him. Just waiting. His to make wait, his to toy with, his to satisfy.

He came hard, clamping his jaw hard and growling deep in his chest to avoid screaming Mine loudly enough they’d hear him on campus.

And realized almost immediately that while his cock, for the moment, was appeased by the violence of the orgasm, his mind was still full of Jen, full of things he wanted to do to, for or with Jen, full of curiosity about who she was beyond the surface of arty and eccentric and sexy as hell.

Damn the woman. He had work to do, and for the first time in years, he was having a hard time keeping sex in a compartment, far from work and the rest of his daily life.

And bless the woman. He might be distracted, but he felt more alive than he had in years, as if those martial arts exercises to bring body and mind into harmony had finally clicked in a surprisingly erotic way.

Blurb:

He’s got her tied up, but she’s got him out of control.

When fiercely independent glass artist Jen Kessler finds a cheap-and-charming apartment, her impulsive hug for the intense, sexy landlord leads to naughtiness that, up to now, she had only tasted.

Drake’s new tenant may have wild, dyed hair and an unconventional job, but he admires her work ethic. Then he’s stunned at how quickly she destroys his carefully cultivated self control.

But their sexy games are not all good, dirty fun. And it’ll take more than a shared penchant for ropes, paddling, and coffee to overcome pasts that could unravel their relationship before it begins.

Warning: Contains kinky sex, molten glass, geeky higher mathematics, family secrets, and irresponsible consumption of coffee.

Buy links: Samhain / Amazon  / Amazon UK / B&N / Kobo

And click here for links to more Masturbation Monday naughty fun: http://masturbationmonday.kaylalords.com/masturbation-monday-week-9/

27 Oct 2014

Italy: a belated update

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

 

View of the Arno River in Florence, sun setting behind it

Florence–the Arno at sunset

I got back from an amazing two-week trip to Italy on October 8. So why haven’t I posted anything about it yet? Well, both my husband I returned with the kind of cold that left us doing the bare minimum for over a week. Once I started feeling more human, there was writing to be done. And I’m still sorting through the 1,500+ photos I took in Venice, Florence, Rome, and Sorrento (with side trips to Naples and Pompeii).

It’s hard to condense this trip into a tidy blog post. I should have been posting as I went, but honestly, I didn’t want to take the time from experiencing it to write about it. Odd for me, but I think healthy.

Raising a glass of Aperol spritz in a bar by a Venetian canal

Cheers! in Venice

Interior, San Marco, Venice

Interior of San Marco, Venice

Venice may have been my favorite place of all the wonderful cities we visited because it was so very different. It’s a city of 270,000 people, plus literally thousands of tourists, but except in the main piazzas, it’s even quieter than the suburban cul-de-sac where I live. There’s literally no traffic noise, because there are no cars. On the streets, one walks or maybe rides a bicycle. Boats are the only vehicle: water taxis, water “buses,” private boats, delivery boats, trash barges, aquatic police “cars” and ambulances (which do have sirens to get other boats out of the way.) Our hotel was on a narrow side canal, so most of the traffic were gondolas. We even had a gondola parking lot behind us; we could sit at the hotel bar and watch their comings and goings. (If your house or place of business was on one of those side canals, deliveries came by boat as far as they could, and were then hand delivered. Garbage was picked up daily in carts if the garbage-boat couldn’t reach your address easily.) All so exotic, especially coming from suburban America where the car is king and people will drive a quarter mile to the corner store.

But the wonders of Venice went far beyond its watery transportation. The main cathedral, San Marco, was a stunning, almost overwhelming experience that evolved over centuries as a way to display Venice’s wealth and power for political glory as well as the glory of God. Example: an 8×10 foot (or so–I didn’t measure) altarpiece plated in gold and ornamented with over 1,000 gemstones. The building was ornamented both inside and out with multiple colors of marble so it looked like a sunset. Amazingly detailed, stunning mosaics decorated the inside, both the walls and the floors. It was Art Overload, and it bordered on tackiness, but each individual bit was so wonderful that it worked. It did make me laugh that so many of the art works were spoils of war. Did I miss something in my religious education?

And if that amazing basilica wasn’t enough, another glorious church popped up roughly ever quarter mile. Example: we barely missed a vaporetto (water bus) to one of the outer islands and decided to explore the neighborhood while we waited for the next one. We wandered into what looked like an unassuming parish church to discover a lace-like black and white marble interior–stonework so perfect it almost made us weep–and, over a side altar, unremarked except for a small sign, a painting by Tintoretto. What truly impressed us was that this wasn’t a tourist destination despite its beauty. It was an active parish church. People from the neighborhood came in to light candles or say a quick prayer while we gawked. It felt like an active place of worship, like most of the people who came there were believers, not, like us, visitors soaking up art and culture. We found this all over Italy: artistic masterpieces tucked away in unlikely spots, with the locals seemingly appreciating them as a given. Of course we have a 16th-century masterpiece in our church. Doesn’t everyone have some great piece of historic art? Now I hear there’s a church on the other side of town that has heat and air-conditioning–that’s worth talking about!

Elaborate gilded mosaic, San Marco, Venice

Gilded Mosaics, San Marco, Venice

The Cat-Herder and I, and the friends we travelled with, are already trying to figure out when we can get back to Italy and where we’ll visit. Not Rome again. Rome was a great experience, rich in history, but it’s also a huge, bustling city, and I find big cities kind of obnoxious. We’d love to spend more time in both Venice and Florence, but we’d like to day-trip to Florence from some wonderful outpost in the hills of Tuscany, which we got to see only from a distance. We’re all foodies and lovers of wine, and the idea of exploring Tuscany sounds ideal. And after a teasing couple of days  in Sorrento, we’d love more time on the Amalfi coast. It’s gloriously beautiful. And I missed Herculaneum, so I want a rematch with the area.

Roman ruins

The Roman Forums

exterior view of the "Duomo," main cathedral of Florence

The Duomo exterior, Florence

Of course, we’d like to spend that time based in the four-star hotel in Sorrento or someplace just as plush, so we’re going to need to save our pennies!

Plaza and ocean view, Sorrento

View from the hotel, Sorrento

25 Oct 2014

Announcing SE Gilchrist’s newest sexy SF romance, WHEN STARS COLLIDE

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

 

When Stars Collide Book Cover

The third full-length novel in SE Gilchrist’s bestselling erotic SF series mixes one sexy spy, a soldier looking for salvation and an unlikely mission to save the world.

Reece, contortionist bubble dancer and part-time spy, has one goal – a safe haven and independent life far from the war.  But her plans go awry and her future becomes dangerously uncertain when she is falsely accused of the murders of her friend and a Darkon traitor. Now her new list of goals includes payback.

In her way is Ulrac, a banished Darkon patroller responsible for incarcerating females for barbaric ‘treatments’ and ‘research’ on the planet Isla. He’s determined to use the capture of the spy and her intel to win the approval of his father – a hard-line Traditionalist with his own agenda – and help him overthrow the current ruler of Darkos.

But the war of the Seven Galaxies has reached a critical stage, and personal plans and goals suddenly hold very little meaning. The enemy is poised to unleash a terrible weapon and no one stands between him and total domination of all the universes.

No one – except Reece and Ulrac.

WHEN STARS COLLIDE – BUY LINKS

BUY LINKS:  Amazon US, Amazon AU, Amazon UK, Kobo, GooglePlay, JBHiFi Ebooks, AllRomance iBookstore

 

Learn more about S. E. Gilchrist and her books at:
website: http://www.segilchrist.com
Twitter – @SEGilchrist1

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SE Gilchrist-Author

 

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