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21 Sep 2014

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

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. 5 Comments

Cover of Possessed, Undressed and In a Mess

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

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

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

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

Talk about awkward.

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

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

Excerpt:

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

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

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

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

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

He had a job to do.

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

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

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

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

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

His cock jumped before he even touched it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

19 Sep 2014

“Countdown to Italy” Sale

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

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

 

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

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

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

 

hot chick with sword?

 

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

Excerpt:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Buy the book (for less!) at Amazon.

 

16 Sep 2014

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

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

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

 

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

 

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


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


 




 




 





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

 

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



 

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

 

 

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

 

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


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

 

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


 



 
OR
Direct link:

 

 



 



 


 


 


15 Sep 2014

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

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. 3 Comments

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

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

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

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

Cover of Possessed, Undressed and In a Mess

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank goodness…far too long.

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

It was feminine. It was Minerva.

Angela snapped.

There was no pitching over the crest into sweet relief.

There was no illusion of being in control anymore.

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

 

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

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

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

 

 

14 Sep 2014

A Snog for Sommer: First Kiss from OUT OF CONTROL

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. 5 Comments

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she wasn’t sure she cared.

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

8 Sep 2014

Masturbation Monday: A definitely NSFW scene from OUT OF CONTROL

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. 3 Comments

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

 

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

OutOfControl72web

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

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

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

Oh yeah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At that moment, the front door opened.

 

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

 

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

4 Sep 2014

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

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

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

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Synopsis:

Secrets Can Destroy. Can they overcome theirs?

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

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

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

 

Buy Links:

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

About the Author:

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

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

 

Author Stalker Links:

Facebook/Twitter/Website/Blog/Goodreads:

 

Excerpts #1 (Faith POV)

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know what to-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I laughed. I did like her already.

 

Excerpt 2: (Gabe’s POV)

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

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

 

Excerpt 3: (Faith’s POV)

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

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

Playlist:

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27 Aug 2014

Three New Sophie Mouette Stories

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

 

18 Aug 2014

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

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

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

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

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

And one to which I was determined to rise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so did the other 68 writers in this book.

That’s why you should check it out.

The tour:

August 1 Lusty Lady

August 2 Clitical

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

August 4 BDSM Book Reviews

August 5 Blhippiechick Reviews

August 6 Reviews @ HedoVibes

August 7 Valerie Alexander

August 8 Lady Smut

August 9 Kitten Boheme

August 10 Jade A. Waters

August 11 Rose de Fer

August 12 Erzabet’s Enchantments

August 13 The Gestalt Boudoir

August 14 The (Really) Naughty Corner

August 15 Tamsin’s Superotica

August 16 Sex, Food, and Writing

August 17 L.C. Spoering

August 18 Teresa Noelle Roberts

August 19 Can’t Talk podcast

August 20 M Marie

August 21 Corvidae Dreams

August 22 Septimus Reviews

August 23 Malin James

August 24 Inara Serene

August 25 D to the /s

August 26 Bitches n Prose

August 27 Property of Potter

August 28 Laila Blake

August 29 Louisa Bacio Love Knows No Bounds

August 30 Quixotic Orchid

August 31 Sex in Words

September 1 Jade Melisande

September 2 Ashley R Lister

 

Buy the book at

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Kindle ebook edition

Nook ebook edition

Amazon UK

Kindle UK

Kobo

Books-a-Million

Powell’s

IndieBound (find it at your local independent bookstore)

Google Play

iTunes

Cleis Press

14 Aug 2014

The laptop, or a writer considers vacation

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. 5 Comments

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© Phil Date | Dreamstime Stock Photos

© Phil Date | Dreamstime Stock Photos

6 Aug 2014

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

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

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

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

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

The tour:

August 1 Lusty Lady

August 2 Clitical

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

August 4 BDSM Book Reviews

August 5 Blhippiechick Reviews

August 6 Reviews @ HedoVibes

August 7 Valerie Alexander

August 8 Lady Smut

August 9 Kitten Boheme

August 10 Jade A. Waters

August 11 Rose de Fer

August 12 Erzabet’s Enchantments

August 13 The Gestalt Boudoir

August 14 The (Really) Naughty Corner

August 15 Tamsin’s Superotica

August 16 Sex, Food, and Writing

August 17 L.C. Spoering

August 18 Teresa Noelle Roberts

August 19 Can’t Talk podcast

August 20 M Marie

August 21 Corvidae Dreams

August 22 Septimus Reviews

August 23 Malin James

August 24 Inara Serene

August 25 D to the /s

August 26 Bitches n Prose

August 27 Property of Potter

August 28 Laila Blake

August 29 Louisa Bacio Love Knows No Bounds

August 30 Quixotic Orchid

August 31 Sex in Words

September 1 Jade Melisande

September 2 Ashley R Lister

 

Buy the book at

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Kindle ebook edition

Nook ebook edition

Amazon UK

Kindle UK

Kobo

Books-a-Million

Powell’s

IndieBound (find it at your local independent bookstore)

Google Play

iTunes

Cleis Press

5 Aug 2014

Another Sophie Mouette book released into the wild!

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

Cover of Possessed, Undressed and In a Mess

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

Even if it means rewriting the beginning a few times.

Blurb:

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

Talk about awkward.

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

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

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

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

 

4 Aug 2014

New Release: BLOOD AND LOTUSES

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A bit more about the book:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4 Aug 2014

Female equivalent of virile?

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

19th century photo of a strong man, bare chested and sporting an impressive mustache

Not the first image that came up when I looked for “virile,” but the most entertaining.

 

A friend used the word virile in conversation the other day. That led us to rack our brains to try to think of a female equivalent of virile. The Oxford definition of the word is “(Of a man) having strength, energy, and a strong sex drive,” and when you say a man is virile, it’s almost always a compliment. We couldn’t come up with a female equivalent that celebrated sexuality and sex drive. Womanly is the literal equivalent; virile derives from an old French word meaning, simply, “characteristic of a man.” But you don’t necessarily think of a womanly woman as being lusty. Curvy, maybe.  Mature and emotionally strong, perhaps. A good mother, maybe. But not all that and lusty too. And all the words we could come up with that encompassed female lust weren’t traditionally positive. Slutty can be an endearment in the right context, but it’s still a loaded word, and it doesn’t convey another of the other positive qualities associated with being a female human.

 

Cover of the book "The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding,"depicting a woman nursing an infant.

For “womanly,” you get breastfeeding or generic beauty in the first tier of image hits.

The reason we couldn’t come up with a word seems obvious enough: self-aware sexuality and a strong sex drive weren’t, and in many circles, still aren’t, considered positive attributes for women in this culture. Does anyone know of a language in which there’s a female equivalent of virile, positive lustiness and all? For that matter, are we missing one in English?

Athlete Serena Williams looking muscular and lovely.

Serena Williams also popped up in the image search. Doesn’t she deserve an adjective that encompasses curvy, strong, sexy, sexual, and proud?

 

25 Jul 2014

Guest Blog: Introducing Leigh Ellwood and Sci Spanks

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

SciSpanksCover

 

Hello, everybody. Leigh Ellwood here, and I’m thrilled to announce I’m part of a new anthology called Sci Spanks. This is a collection of 15 shorts on a theme – naturally science fiction with spanking. My contribution, “Skin,” came to me as I racked my brains to think of a story. A martini or two later, and it happened.

You may or may not be familiar with my work, but BDSM and kink are not sub-genres I write often. I don’t read much BDSM, just a few authors, and I know writing kink requires research so the stories are accurate and do not misrepresent the Lifestyle. Since this book deals mainly with spanking, though, I felt it was okay for me to participate. The science fiction setting allowed me a bit of creative license as well. I placed my heroine in a precarious situation where a law was accidentally broken, but her captain manages to make it easier by becoming involved in the interplanetary conflict. I don’t want to spoil it for anybody, but Sci Spanks is only 99 cents and a great collection if you enjoy light kink, other worlds, and a variety of pairings.

I invite you to preview Sci Spanks below and to drop me a line on Twitter @LeighEllwood if you have read and enjoyed it. I don’t know if I’ll write more spanking stories after this, but the feedback is good I never say never.

The Sci Spanks Anthology 2014

Featuring stories by Anastasia Vitsky, Leigh Ellwood, Maren Smith, Olivia Starke, Eve Langlais, Louisa Bacio, Kate Richards, Carole Cummings, Jessica E. Subject, Cathy Pegau, Sue Lyndon, Natasha Knight, Erzabeth Bishop, Eva Lefoy, and Anne Ferrer Odom

Published July 15, 2014

Buy Now!

Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/Sci-Spanks-2014-Collection-Spanking-ebook/dp/B00LWHW2QK/
AllRomance – https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-scispanks2014-1570892-343.html
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/458236
Kobo – http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/sci-spanks-2014

 

Sci Spanks 2014 offers fifteen sexy spanking stories from fifteen authors. You’ll find everything from sweet, tender romance to laugh-out-loud humor and references to old-school science fiction popular culture. You’ll find a mixture of romantic pairings, from M/F to F/F to M/M. Some stories are harsher, while others appeal to the softest-hearted romantic. Sit back, relax, and enjoy!

About the Stories

Skin by Leigh Ellwood

Different planets abide by different rules, and when Andromeda breaks one she must accept the punishment. When her ship’s captain elects to administer the penalty, she finds being the bad girl feels quite good.

Bred for Love: Tika is Chosen by Eve Langlais

Abducted and raised in a commune on a planet with two indigo suns, Tika has no idea she’s part of a specialized breeding program created to provide healthy human females to men of power in need of a perfect mate.

But Tika has no intention of behaving. What she doesn’t count on is her new owner enjoying the challenge.

Taliasman by Anastasia Vitsky

“If I had been born a boy, I would have followed in my father’s footsteps to become a tradesman. Because I was a girl, he sold me instead.” So begins the tale of Talia, a woodworker’s daughter who is sold for a sackful of gold. Queen Vina appears at the cottage of Talia, a nineteen year old whose family is too poor for her to marry. Vina takes Talia to her palace, and the girl discovers unexpected love.

Oh, What the Hell by Maren Smith

May has for a long time now suffered in her attraction to shipmate, Vek. That Vek is a praying mantis-like Klik’vok is entirely beside the point. Her fickle woman’s heart has spoken and tonight is the night she’s going to do something about it. Because surely, once a woman gets past the whole “bug exterior” thing, then any other obstacles must be easy, right?

Replicated Consequences by Jessica E. Subject

After Darryl Malloy’s wife is killed in combat, he doesn’t expect to find her standing on his door step. Only she is not his wife, but a clone, armed with a paddle.

What’s a Moon Colony without a Spanking Franchise? by Kate Richards

But Harlan, a simple college professor and trainee of The Trainer isn’t sure how well his tools will work in the lower gravity chosen by the denizens of this strange place. What he needs is someone to try them out on. But the client who presents herself is not exactly the girl next door…

No More Lizards by Sue Lyndon

Anya is determined to help her stern alien husband, Roc, find his sense of humor. Putting a native lizard-like creature known as an ebbra under their bedcovers seems like a good idea. It’s funny. At least Anya thinks so…until her husband decides a certain naughty little prankster needs to go over his knee. Will Anya ever succeed in coaxing a smile out of Roc, or is the cultural divide between them too great to find some common ground?

Red Moon Rising by Erzabet Bishop

When you can’t be who you are where do you turn? When you thought the love of your life was lost only to find her again how do you choose between yesterday and tomorrow.

A hereditary witch, Detective Devi Watson fought long and hard to become a cop in a witch hating world. Forced to turn her back on her coven and her family she lost everything that mattered most.

Her girl Astrid included. Some choices a woman should never have to make. When witches begin to die and Astrid is threatened, the carefully constructed wall around Devi’s past begins to crumble.

Who is she? Hereditary witch or a student of law and logic? Can Devi reconcile the demons that haunt her and face the red moon rising…

Taming the Wolf by Anne Odom

The time machine is broken, and there’s a wolf in the control room. What’s an inventor to do when his project is failing, his lover is wicked, and his patience is stretched?

Research Purposes Only by Eva Lefoy

From my research, species across the galaxy have one thing in common: they all have some hidden kink. Whether its tentacle restraints, breath play or even the more uncommon fire play, they all have tricks up their sleeve. Join me as I visit the Utai and get a first-hand taste of how sweet their punishment for a simple crime can be.

Jen & Maddy by Cathy Pegau

When Maddy stops by her girlfriend’s lab, she helps by testing the mind-reading equipment. To her shock, all of her deepest longings are laid bare. Will she scare Jen away, or will they take their relationship to the next level?

Flame on a Fire by Carole Cummings

Exposition and development masquerading as a PWP. Or vice versa. Depending on your perspective. But hey, either way—bondage!

~

About Leigh Ellwood

I am Leigh Ellwood. I write smutty stories about people who like getting naked and having sex. Some have more sex than others, some have sex with people of the same gender, some have sex with more than one person, and still others have sex with toys and things that require the use of batteries. My stories range from a few thousand words to well past 70k. My books are available at Amazon, B&N, Smashwords, Kobo, and ARe. Really, just type my name in any bookstore site and something is bound to show up.

Please stalk me online for news about my books and crazy adventures.

http://www.leighellwood.com
http://leighwantsfood.blogspot.com
http://twitter.com/LeighEllwood
http://www.facebook.com/leighellwoodauthor
 

15 Jul 2014

Teaser time! Witches’ Waves is ready for pre-order

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

witches waves

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

Witches’ Waves is up for pre-order now on Amazon or Barnes and Noble. This is a big deal. I mean, “Deck” can barely keep his towel on in his excitement. (Hey, we can dream!)Deck (chris hemsworth) on beach And in honor of this big news, and the fact it’s “Teaser Tuesday,” here’s a little bit of the book’s beginning.

“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.

 

 

9 Jul 2014

WIP Excerpt: Witches’ Waves

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. 2 Comments

Logo for WIP It Up Blog tour (text around image of woman holding notebook & whip)

I’m taking part in the WIP It Up blog tour, featuring short excerpts from “works in progress,” that are unfinished or otherwise not quite ready to order on Amazon. I’m cheating slightly and offering an except from Witches’ Waves (Duals and Donovans: The Different Book 4).  My part of this book is done, but it’s still is “in progress” on my publisher Samhain Publishing’s side as they get it ready for its November 2014 release. It even has a cover!

Witches' Waves book cover

Here’s the blurb: 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.

More info on the series here:

This excerpt takes place just after Kyle rescues Meaghan–or maybe the ocean rescues her with Kyle’s help.

“Meaghan,” Kyle said, trying to keep his voice calm, “My name is Kyle, and I’m going to get you to the van now so you can warm up. We’ll figure out what to do from there. You should see a doctor, but I may have another solution for that, if you really feel it would be unsafe to go to the hospital.” One that would be a hell of a long drive, but if the girl would rather die than risk going back to the Agency, he’d be tricked if he put her back in harm’s way.

Even if the harm would be to an already fragile psyche. One of Deck’s relatives would know how to help, even if Meaghan’s problem was that she was stone crazy and believed her own delusions.

“Put your arms around my neck. Here…” he added, guiding her with his hands.

He scooped her up. She weighed about as much as his twelve-year-old cousin Storm, though the weight was distributed in a more interesting way. She made a startled little sound, but clung tightly, with more strength in those thin arms than he’d have anticipated. As he carried her, he sniffed. An otter’s nose wasn’t like a wolf dual’s or even a cat dual’s but it still carried a lot of information that a normy wouldn’t catch. The young woman was terrified—but not of him and, he thought, not from her recent brush with death. The smell was sharp enough he’d have noticed it before, which meant it started when he mentioned the hospital. She was telling the truth when she said she’d rather die than go back to the Agency (or wherever she’d been). He wasn’t sure what the connection was between hospitals and the Agency, but he meant to find out.

Under the fear, Meaghan smelled like amber and ocean.

It made sense she’d smell a bit like salt water at the moment, but she carried the scent of the ocean in a deep, innate way, in her blood, not just on the surface of her skin. Normal for otter duals, but he’d only met a few humans who smelled like the ocean was part of their being, and only one he’d had the chance to sniff this intimately: Deck Donovan.

His ex.

Could he be an ex when they had never really been a couple? His once and future fuck buddy, maybe?

Whatever. He freely admitted he was obsessed with Deck, but this wasn’t the time to give in to the obsession.

And Kyle had caught that amber scent before when he was visiting Donovan’s Cove. Couldn’t place which witch carried that warm smell, let alone remember what it meant, but the connection was clear. If you smelled like amber even after a long, battering immersion in the Pacific, you were a witch.

All right then. Not a mentally ill person projecting her trauma onto the Agency. A witch who’d been traumatized by the Agency.

This was deeper than he’d meant to dive, but once you were in the water you might as well keep swimming.

*

Oh, one more thing? Deck Donovan looks kind of like this:

Chris Hemsworth (better known as Thor) surfing

 

Be sure to check out all the other excerpts for the WIP It Up Tour below! (If for some reason the widget isn’t working, you can find links on the WIP It Up site.)


 

 

 

 

 

1 Jul 2014

Independence Days: The tiny tomatoes and petite peppers edition

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. 1 Comment

Tiny green pepper on vigorous plant in my garden.

Blurry…but it’s a baby pepper.

Green tomatoes developing

Green tomatoes!

 

Large John Deere brand farm equipment

A herd of Deere outside my home town. The hometown has a population of 30,000  and a college…but we’re still country.

Plus bonus drought and groundhog depredation!

I was away at my mom’s in the Land of Apples and Large Farm Equipment (see above) for the weekend and came back to a mess. A groundhog has taken up residence in our woodpile and decided that my Royal Oakleaf Lettuce is what’s for lunch. It’s been eaten down to the ground, although a few sad leaves remain and from past experience I suspect it will regrow.  Still, it’s upsetting. That lettuce was just about perfect–the rest is either tiny or verging on over the hill–and I was looking forward to having a nice tender salad with last night’s dinner…a salad of Royal Oakleaf, specifically. I guess that’s what we get. We procrastinated putting up the new fence, since liberal applications of cat hair had been keeping varmints away. This is our incentive to finally get the fence up. Sadly, it’s a job that requires more muscle than I have–I’m good, but I’m a bit small to dig twenty post holes–and I hate to push Himself, since he’s crazy busy at work right now, and that means he’s already working hard out in the heat.

And it hasn’t rained in weeks. The garden’s still hanging in there, but I think we lost some of the container plants. (I didn’t remind Himself to water, and since I know the garden is my baby and he’ll forget it if not reminded, this one is totally on me.) This, of course, is when the nozzle on my hose chooses to break. I’ll go get a new one later today, but doesn’t it just figure? I’m not about to water a quarter-acre of garden using buckets!

Still, the garden is doing well, all things considered. I have bouquets all over the house, even if my flower beds aren’t as magnificent as my mom’s. Then again, the beds haven’t been established for thirty years and I’m not paying someone $100 a week or so to keep up with them (Mom, alas, can’t do it herself anymore.) The vegetable garden may be weedy and dry, and I haven’t replanted areas where spring crops have petered out. (Probably won’t until it cools down again. There’s not much point in sowing seeds when it’s over 90 degrees and bone-dry.) But we’re still getting lots of good food.
Now for an Independence Days update:

Plant something: As I said, too hot to plant.

Harvest something: lettuce, arugula, mizuna, snap peas, shelling peas,  broccoli,  dill, basil, oregano, kale

Preserve something: Nothing much, since I was away part of the week and over the weekend, but will do snap pea pickles and freeze some peas tonight. That’ll count for next week, I guess.

Waste not: The usual composting and recycling, and trying to get Mom to recycle.

Want not: Stocked up on rhubarb by Mom’s, since my own plant is so young I didn’t get enough for the freezer. It’s much cheaper there, where it’s not a trendy gourmet item, but that giant plant-monster that takes over the back garden on every older farm and country home. Bought some nuts and other supplies at the Mennonite bulk store en route to Mom’s, and some glorious local NY cheese. (Which also fits in community food systems, I guess.)

Eat the food: Lots of salads and fresh peas. Brought peas and salad greens to Mom’s and actually got her to eat vegetables and enjoy them, not just do eat a few green things because you ought to.

Build community food systems: Shared the wealth of the garden, shopped at farm stands in upstate New York.

Skill up: Played with the camera more. Starting to get good at this, but I’m still having trouble when I zoom in really close. (Like the pepper picture.)

 

 

21 Jun 2014

Independence Days: The Summer Solstice Edition

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

Happy summer to those north of the equator. (If you’re reading this from south of the equator, happy winter–and please leave a comment, because it’s fun to hear from people in far-flung places.) And blessed Solstice to my fellow pagans…and to everyone else too. Even if it’s not a holiday in your tradition, it’s still the longest day of the year in this part of the world, the shortest for our Southern hemisphere friends, and that’s a good excuse for a celebration. Of course, it doesn’t take much for us to celebrate!

Today is our wedding anniversary as well as the first day of summer. We deliberately got married on the Solstice and always celebrate on the first day of summer, even though it varies slightly from year to year. We’d had plans to head up to Ogunquit, Maine for a day of hiking and beaching, but I was feeling off last night, so we rescheduled for tomorrow and instead spent a mostly leisurely day at home. Apparently all I needed was a day of rest and healthy doses of lobster and champagne, because I’m feeling much better now and am raring to go have outdoorsy fun tomorrow.

Since I had a little time today, I did some garden and homesteady things, so it seems like a time for my Independence Day update. A more detailed explanation can be found here, but basically it’s a state of the garden and food preservation.

two jars of snap pea pickles

Last year’s photo…but it seemed silly to take basically the same picture again.

Plant something: We haven’t planted a lot this week, because right now everything is growing madly. We have the green tomatoes in the mad tomato jungle, the bush beans have buds on them as do the peppers, the first lettuce and most of the spinach are gone, and even the eggplant and cukes, which started out slowly, are beginning to take off. The only think I’ve planted was lovage. (I thought I bought parsley, but what the heck, we have lovage now!).

Harvest something: lettuce, mustard greens,arugula, mizuna, snap peas, shelling peas, spinach,green onions, broccoli,  dill, lemon thyme, basil, oregano, kale, broccoli raab, rhubarb

Preserve something: Snap pea pickles, dehydrated mangoes (not at all local, but so delicious!), dehydrated lemon thyme and oregano.

Waste not: Composting, and setting aside books, clothes, and miscellaneous items for donation. Found a fun gift item at a flea market today.

Want not: Nothing special this week.

Eat the food: Lots of salads and fresh peas. A stir-fry that included our broccoli and snap peas. Broccoli raab with frozen roasted tomatoes from last year. Snacking on peas and broccoli. Strawberry-crisp with my own rhubarb. So very good! I made it gluten-free this time, with oats and cornmeal instead of flour.

Build community food systems:Found another source for local eggs, since our egg lady shares her bounty with many people and supposedly free-range grocery store eggs pale in comparison. Bought more local berries. Shared our produce with Himself’s co-workers and our friends. Celebrated with a local speciality: lobster! Served with my own greens and Maine potatoes, roasted with herbs.

Skill up: Seeking out new ways to cook in a healthier, lower-calorie, but still delicious way.

17 Jun 2014

Celebrating the Season: Rain at Midsummer

Posted by Teresa Noelle Roberts. No Comments

cover of Rain at Midsummer (het couple kissing in orchard)

As I write this post, it’s one of the first hot, humid days of 2014. My beloved garden is wilting in the heat and so am I. I should water, but I’m hoping that the violent thunderstorms supposed to dot the area overnight will take care of the problem for me.

Rain, or lack thereof, is always an issue for gardeners and farmers. People who don’t garden as seriously as I do revel in two summer weeks without a cloud in the sky, but I’m panicking and raising my water bill dramatically. Real farmers, people who rely on their crops for a living, experience this feeling a thousandfold.

Imagine what concern a dry spell must have caused in a time and place entirely dependent on foods grown on local small farms, a time and a place with primitive irrigation and water-storage technology.

The Summer Solstice is approaching in the Northern Hemisphere (Saturday!) It’s one of my favorite holy days of the pagan year, and one of my favorite times of year in general: a celebration of light and abundance and sexuality and the fruits of the land. It’s the longest day of the year, marking the first official day of summer…and the fact that from now on, the days get shorter even as the heat gets stronger and lettuce and strawberries give way to tomatoes and peaches. The Summer Solstice is also our wedding anniversary (about the only traditional thing about our wedding was that it took place in June, and that’s harking back to a seemingly ancient tradition of weddings at Midsummer as well as to contemporary paganism’s association of the day with the marriage of the Lord and Lady.)

With all this in mind, it seems natural to highlight one of my backlist titles, Rain at Midsummer (Seasons of Sorania Cycle 2). Like many of my books, this fantasy romance involves sex-magic, and love-magic, and healing. In this case, you can probably guess the function of the sex-magic…but maybe not the details of the story. I write a great deal about consensual slavery, BDSM-style. This book involves nonconsensual slavery. The heroine escapes a cruel master – and then needs to learn what to do with a freedom she never expected and what role she can play in a society very different from the one she grew up in. The hero is a free man trapped in a role he never chose.

Can they find true freedom together?

Of course there’s also and smoking-hot sex and some meddling deities. But at core, it’s about the nature of liberty.

An escaped slave daunted by freedom. A nobleman fighting his destined birthright. Their love defies logic, but when the spirits of the land speak, you’d better listen.

Nikos curses the day his brother died and left him as Lord of Thermanae. What’s an educated man to do in a place so backward his tenants expect the Lord and Lady of the estate to bring rain through sex-magic? Jaenna, a runaway Kulchu slave, curses the fate that forced her to flee a murderous master to the neighboring Soranian Empire. Freedom means frightening choices for a woman whose entire life has been spent serving men’s sexual whims, and she can’t communicate with the spirits of the land enough to work the healing magic that might earn her a respectable place here.

The forbidden desire that burns between Nikos and Jaenna could save them both, if they see beyond what they think they know. But it takes desperate need—and advice from a madwoman who may be crazy like a fox—for Nikos to see that magic isn’t merely a metaphor and Jaenna to learn that love is the most powerful magic of all.

Excerpt (a bit racy, yet showing the theme):

“Let me try.” Dela’s Kulchu was as good as his; given the long tug-of-war over the territory, most Thelanese were bilingual. But if there was a Kulchu woman in there, she was likely to respond to a male voice of authority. Nomad women were raised that way.
“Come out, woman,” he said. That should work even better if it was a man in there. He’d come out bristling, eager to prove his manliness.
And since Dela was a bit closer, she’d be the one to hand him his balls. Pure comedy.
“Ha Khairi,” a small, nervous female voice responded. Yes, Master.
The girl who crawled out from under the bush was covered with dust, her hair so matted and dusty he could hardly tell the color. Dark, he thought, but how dark he couldn’t say. She was wearing fragments of something scarlet that must have been skimpy even when it was intact—it might have passed for a shortish underq’misa in civilized parts. She looked like she’d been sleeping rough without any kind of preparation or training for it, and she was visibly shaking and darting terrified looks from him to Dela and back again as if they were monsters with three heads.
And despite all that, she was beautiful.
Big dark eyes. Tall, as Kulchu often were, almost as tall as Nikos himself, but delicately and elegantly built. Well-muscled legs, high, full breasts, round hips: the kind of beauty that could drive a man to despair or heaven. Cleaned up, she’d be lethal.
A few more wild looks and then she sank to the ground. For an instant he thought she was fainting, and reached out to catch her.
But in a controlled movement marred by only a little swaying, she knelt before him on the rocky ground, stretching out on the ground to almost touch his boot in gesture of submission so graceful it made him ache inside, ache with pity and something else he didn’t want to examine.
She was a slave.
A woman who for years—from birth, for all he knew—had been trained for nothing other than pleasing and pampering and taking care of a man, trained to follow orders and not think too hard.
The pleasing part was, well, dangerously pleasing. It was all too easy to imagine the tatterdemalion figure cleaned up, wearing a few choice jewels and nothing much else, applying that particular intensive education to him. He was only human, and the gods hadn’t made humans to be celibate for nearly as long as he had been.
The rest moved him to an uneasy mix of disgust and compassion. It made him sad enough that his mother was a ghost among the living since his father died, unable to rise above her sorrow, unable to see that there was a life for her without her husband in it. It had gotten worse since his brother and sister had died within the same year. And his mother was a physician, a woman who’d been respected in her own right, not only as the Lord’s wife. A slave, a woman raised to be completely dependent on male whims, seemed a thousand times sadder to him, a thousand times more backward than the Thelanese traditions he found depressing enough.
Sarakia [his maybe-fiancee] was nothing like that. She was a thoroughly modern, cosmopolitan woman. Had her own friends, had her work in her family’s spice-trading firm, would certainly be sad if something happened to whatever lucky man she ended up marrying, but would go on with her life. And certainly wouldn’t make a fool of herself kneeling to a man.
Which, Nikos’ cock took chose that instant to remind him, was a pity. You wouldn’t want a woman to spend her whole life on her knees, but sometimes a woman kneeling in front of you could be fun for all concerned.

Buy Links: Amazon / B & N/ Phaze