Tag Archives: erotica

Author Spotlight: Libby Campbell

A Time for Will

Can Lissie live with Will’s 19th century attitudes? Or does he need to show her who’s boss one more time?

Blurb:

Identical twins, Verity and Felicity (Lissie) Pettigrew inherit an abandoned farm in the remote hills of the Methow Valley. Little do the twins know, but their windfall harbors a secret. While exploring the old barn, Verity stumbles into a hidden portal and is instantly transported more than one hundred years into the past.

In 1885, on the same farm, Will Dawson is saddling his horse when a disturbance in a corner of the barn catches his attention. In his haste to rescue the gorgeous woman in the center of the disturbance, Will is flung far into the future.

Meanwhile, Lissie arrives on the farm looking for Verity, but finds the handsome, slightly suspicious cowboy instead. From their first words to one another, sparks fly.

Lissie’s modern manners and profane language offend Will. His solution? Some old-fashioned discipline delivered on the spot.

Affronted by Will’s distinctly un-twenty-first century approach to male/female relationships, Lissie challenges his authority at every turn in spite of nearly always ending up over his knee.

Meanwhile, Verity must deal with life in 1885. Although accepted into Will’s family, she longs to get back to the 21st century and the man she loves.

Can Will live in a future in which progress comes at the price of everything he holds dear? Can Lissie win him over, and teach him that women can be independent and willful but still soft and sexy? Will Verity find her way back to the man she loves?

Publishers note: This stand alone love story includes scenes of domestic discipline and spicy romance.

Buy links – Amazon – available on KU

 

The man was tall, over six feet, with broad shoulders and a slim waist. Clean-shaven with intense silver-grey eyes, he didn’t look happy to see them. This had to be another one of Verity’s practical jokes. His denim jeans, leather vest with deep pockets, and old-fashioned Stetson were straight from a costume store. His thin cotton shirt hugged him like a second skin, emphasizing his buff body. The only worrying detail was the gun and holster set.

Lissie pointed her chin at the revolver in his hand. “That’s not a very nice way to greet your hosts,” she said, trying to ignore the blood pounding in her ears. Verity had pulled some major pranks in her time but this was the first time she’d hired an actor to point a gun at her sisters. At least Verity had hired a hottie for this job.

“Who are you? Why are the two of you wearing men’s clothes?” The man frowned as he spoke, his slow drawl sounding out of place in the 21st century, even in this small country town.

“Who are you and what are you doing lighting fires on our land?” Lissie smiled sweetly, waiting for Verity to spring out of the bushes, yelling gotcha.

“I’m the one with the gun. Maybe you’d better start talking. My name is William Dawson. Mr. Dawson to you.”

“We’re innocent cowgirls, looking for our sister, Mr. Dawson, sir.” Even as she heaped on the sarcasm, it started to occur to Lissie this might not be a joke. His tone had been disapproving. Impatience still clouded his eyes. That made her bolder, if only to draw his attention away from Hope. “I’m Felicity and this is my sister, Hope. That’s Felicity and Hope to you.” Now might be a time not to give him too much information, she decided.

“I’ve been here a couple of hours now and you’re the first people I’ve seen.” He kept eyeing the truck nervously.

Lissie watched him. “What’s wrong with you? Never seen an F350 before?”

“No.” He looked at the girls one more time before slipping his gun back into its holster. “I don’t even know what an F350 is.”

“C’mon,” Lissie chided. “Have you been living under a rock? An F350 is a truck. They’re everywhere. This is mine.” She pointed to the blue one she’d just hopped out of. “And this one here belongso my sister. Verity came out here earlier today. She was going to organize the kitchen and bedrooms. Tomorrow the electricians are going to turn on the electricity to the house.”

“Electricity,” Will sounded out the word, as if it was Latin or Greek. “I’ve heard of that.”

Hope burst out laughing. “Okay, Verity,” she said to the bushes, “good joke. You can come out now.”

“I told you,” he said fiercely, “I’m the only one here.”

Lissie grinned. “I believe you, cowboy.” To keep his eyes off Hope, she moved closer, swinging her hips. In case he was some sort of psycho, she needed to do everything she could to save her little sister. She moved with far more confidence than she felt. As she approached him, she caught his grass, leather, and onions scent. It was a primal smell that spoke of hard work and honest labor. It was far more appealing than she wanted it to be.

If he was part of a practical joke, she’d make Verity pay. If he was something more dangerous than that, she wanted all his attention focused on her.  “What do you do when you’re not pranking innocent girls? Are you a movie extra or something?”

He narrowed his eyes at her as she sidled her body next to his.

She brushed some dust from his shoulder. “I’ve been asking Santa for someone like you my entire life. I guess the wait was worth it.” She ran her hand over the front of his leather vest. “This is nice and soft, just like your lips, I bet.” She made a kissy face at him.

He caught her wrist. “What sort of a girl are you, talking to a man like that?” His grey eyes glinted with outrage.

“I’m a modern sort of a girl,” she said. “I take what I like.” She reached with her other hand and stroked the dark hair that curled around his ears and under his hat. “Nice.”

Before she could register what he was doing, he grabbed her hands and pinned them behind her back. His long, muscular fingers held her two wrists together effortlessly.

Don’t miss these other great books from Libby Campbell and Blushing Books

The Romancing the Coast Series
Seeing Ronnie.(Book 1)
Holding Cynthia (Book 2)
Simon in Charge – 3 book boxset

Libby Campbell, spanking writer and mischief maker

Libby Campbell writes in the bay window of her mock-Tudor home, fueled by coffee, chocolate, and many cups of fragrant tea. Sharing a love of hiking, road trips, and an occasional night of dancing, Libby and her husband live on a rocky island in the Pacific Northwest.

Libby savors her evening bubble baths where she sings along to her favorite music, safe in the knowledge that no one can hear her. She loves all animals, but particularly small dogs with big attitudes and big ones who think they are lap dogs. A woman for all seasons, Libby is happy cuddling in front of a winter fire, watching a summer sunset, listening to birds in the spring, and walking in the autumn rain.

Optimistic by nature, Libby wants a solid HEA in her reading and her writing. She writes the stories she wants to read. To see what she’s working on now, or how she formed her earlier novels, visit her Pinterest boards where she pins pictures that inspire her characters and their worlds.

Connect with Libby Campbell on social media:

Visit her website and blog here: Libby Campbell

Find her on Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/Libby-Campbell-849543415164235/

Follow her on Twitter: @LibbyC26

Visit her Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/Libby-Campbell/e/B01B75CENW

Pinterest: https://nz.pinterest.com/libby3054/

Adrienne Blake brings her sexy historical!

Adrienne Blake is visiting today with her erotic historical, The Cardinal’s Whores. Check it out!! 🙂

Excerpt:

His touch was electric, but the thrill was tinged with fear. She was not as comely as once she was and she was afraid to undress fully in front of such a beautiful man. What would he think of her? But those kisses were so sweet, his attentions so tender. The bloom of passion kindled within her mind smothered her fear, and as his hand rose higher along her leg, she chose not to restrain him, preferring to live in the moment and leave tomorrow to look after itself.

His hand soon reached the top of her thighs, and as he caressed her there, she was pressed gently down onto the couch. She did not resist him, though she trembled every inch of the way. Yet it was a sweet fear, and her greatest fear of all was that he would stop and think better of what he was doing. But he did not stop. She sensed his need was as great as her own, and his adept fingers teased and played with her, turning her desert into a honeyed oasis, while his mouth kissed the orbs of her bosom, releasing her nipples from her corset, and sucking her so hard she thought she would cry out.

cardinals-whores-cover-ab

Blurb:

Blackmail, betrayal, and bedroom lust are standard fare in the court of Henry the Eighth. Joan Larke has heard all her young life that this is so, but she is completely unprepared to be dragged into the midst of it. Dragged she is, though, when the beautiful girl falls into the hands of the powerful and power hungry Thomas Wolsey, cardinal, confidant, and finally lord chamberlain to the king.

Wolsey knows how many secrets are passed in the bedchamber, and shamelessly enlists any woman who comes within his influence as his spy. He turns her, under duress, into a whore who brings him information from her pillow talk with the movers and shakers of the early 16th century. But he needs love, too, and he keeps Joan to himself—for a time.

When Joan finds herself no longer wanted and in peril of spending the rest of her life in a nunnery, she turns to Lady Anne Boleyn, who is rapidly supplanting Queen Catherine in Henry’s affections. But treachery is a two-edged sword, and the betrayer often becomes the betrayed in the shadowy world of Tudor court intrigue.

Although Joan has secrets of her own she can trade, in the end, she can do nothing but watch and tremble as the cardinal and the would-be queen battle behind the scenes for the love of their king, and to keep from winding up under the axe, as so many did in those dark days.

 

Purchase Links

Amazon Purchase Link: The Cardinal’s Whores

Author Promo

Adrienne lives in the North East, in a rural area surrounded by cows and determined rabbits.  She has two cats, both masters of the contemptuous stare, who she idolizes. When she’s not penning for monies she’s either baking something, or driving very long distances for the hell of it. This renders a unique opportunity to ponder her plots and characters; she prides herself on writing the unexpected, and is always cooking up new ways to pleasure her readers. Her favorite genre is twisted history – and applies varying degrees of heat to keep you titillated from beginning to end.

Visit her Facebook page here:

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAdrienneBlake

Visit her Twitter page here:

https://twitter.com/AuthorABlake

Or e-mail her directly at:

authoradrienneblake@gmail.com

Website AuthorAdrienneBlake.com coming soon!

New author spotlight – Audrey Randall

I am pleased to have with me today, a brand new author, Audrey Randall. She is really nice and has a ton of fun story ideas. I can’t wait to read her debut book. She sat down with me for a quick interview.  🙂

Katherine Deane: Welcome, Audrey. How long have you been writing?

Audrey Randall: I could be silly and say since I was three, but I haven’t been writing novellas very long. Only a few months, but it has been wonderful! I have met so many new friends, as well as learned a lot about myself and the industry.

Katherine Deane: Congratulations! So this is your first publication, right?

Audrey Randall: Yes! Playing His Game is my first novella. I am so excited to share it with others! I am currently working on the second book in the series, Playing Her Game.

Katherine Deane: Awesome! What made you decide one day to write a story?

Audrey Randall: I wrote Playing His Game for myself. I wanted to do something just for me and ended up liking it so much, that I decided to publish it.

Katherine Deane: I started like that too. J What do you like to read?

Audrey Randall: I am a romance junkie. Anything in the genre, I love! I read romance books and like eating M&M’s!

Katherine Deane: I read while eating mallo cups. 😉 Chocolate is a great addition to romance, eh? 😉

What was your favorite and least favorite thing about the writing process for this book?

Audrey Randall: I really enjoyed coming up with the general plot of Playing His Game. It was a lot of fun imagining a videogame that would take the world by storm! I wish I had thought of Pokémon GO! The hardest part about writing the book novella was the love scenes. Trying to keep track of whose hands was where and other body parts involved was a challenge at times! Sometimes it felt like I was describing a game of Twister! On the whole, writing Playing His Game was a true pleasure! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And if you did, please let me know!

Katherine Deane: It sounds like a lot of fun. I have it on my TBR list and can’t wait to read it!! Congratulations on your first book, and good luck!

Audrey Randall convserve

Buy now!

My website: http://www.audreyrandallauthor.wix.com/author – Join my naughty list for a special bonus tryst!
Chapter One
Aimee
“You have got to be kidding me?!” Aimee replied as she looked at her identical twin sister, Stephanie. Steph had always been the impulsive one, but this request was on a whole new level- even for Steph.
“I’m not! Look, we really could use your help! If you don’t go as me, the whole team will lose! I can’t do it, and you have the summer since school’s out…” Stephanie pleaded as she held up her arms, both sporting bright pink casts up to her mid forearm. She then did her best puppy dog eye impression to guilt Aimee even more.
Aimee felt a bang of sympathy for her wounded sister and thanked whoever had saved Steph a worse fate. The poor thing had been lucky to only break both of her wrists in the massive car accident she had been in the day before. Her injury couldn’t have come at a worse time for her career. Steph’s guild in the wildly popular videogame, The Celestial Prophesy, the Star Raiders, had made it to the regional competition that was taking place in two days. Winners from the regional games went onto the national competitions. The Star Raiders were a fan favorite to move on, but if word got out about Steph’s injury, it could hurt more than just their chances of winning. It put into jeopardy their livelihood, which included major company sponsorships, conferences, consulting, and prize money. Nebula One, the game’s creator, had made a fortune off the game and so had their key players. It was the most popular game in the world, boasting whole channels dedicated to its play and regular news spots covering the game and popular players like Steph and her team.
Feeling guilty about possibly letting down Daemon, Aaron, and Lana, Steph had concocted a wild plan to have Aimee pose as her for the competition. The problem was, Aimee had no clue how to play The Celestial Prophesy. As a second grade teacher in Berkeley, California, Aimee didn’t really understand what it was about the space game that made her sister spend all her waking hours playing it. Heck, she was still amazed that people made such a comfortable living from it.
“Look, I’ve already invited Daemon over to help teach you. He’s arguably the best player in the game, after me of course,” Steph said as she bent forward to take a sip from the bendy straw in her soda.
“Of course, you are the best,” Aimee agreed as she took a sip of her own soda. “It’ll be a miracle if he manages to speak three words to me,” she mused. Aimee felt her panties getting wet just thinking about Daemon Ivanov. She hated to admit it, but he had played a large role in her personal nighttime fantasies. He was very drool worthy.
“Maybe he has a crush on you?” Steph suggested waggling her eyebrows at Aimee with a silly smile. When she then gave an exaggerated pucker kiss, Aimee felt herself start laughing.
“Ha!” Aimee retorted. She wished that he did. Although he had spent many afternoons on her couch over the last two years, she had also seen him on TV and magazines dating models and actresses. Aimee vividly remembered a year ago when he even dated the Prime Minister of England’s daughter. His popularity wasn’t that surprising, at six foot three with his rangy cowboy type of build that always drew the ladies eyes. She had always wanted to ask him how he got such a great body from playing games professionally, since it was such a ‘couch potato’ type of job. She knew he spent a lot of time indoors, since he was a bit on the pale side. But, that only turned Aimee on more. As a huge fan of vampire romances, it was like he was her own blood sucker. How she would love to let him suck her! She could write whole sonnets on his gorgeous lips. Sometimes the image of him using his sexy lips on various parts of her body would pop in her mind at the most inopportune times at work- giving a spelling test, photocopying papers, staff meetings. It always served to make her cream her panties, especially if she imagined herself holding his head to her mound, weaving her fingers through his thick, wavy black hair as he looked up at her with his moss green eyes. Yum!
Spending any time alone with Daemon might not be a good thing. It wasn’t just his sexy body that called to her, but his personality too. He was… intense. He had a certain charisma about him that made Aimee’s panties melt. Although they had never had a conversation without her sister present, she had always felt a spark between them. A spark that could ignite into a five alarm fire on her side, if she let it. She didn’t want to ruin her sister’s career and friendship because she couldn’t keep her panties on.
“It’ll be fine, Aimee,” Steph reassured Aimee.
A knock sounded on the door making the twins turn. “I’ll just… get that.” Aimee set her drink down and got up from the couch, feeling frazzled. If only she had been given some more warning, she might have been able to handle this. Now, she would be letting everyone down when she told them there was no way she could pose as Steph for the game. She felt torn. It felt morally wrong to lie, but at the same time she couldn’t look into the face of her sister and her team as she told them she would be letting them down.
Before answering the door, Aimee looked at herself in the full length mirror next to the coat closet. “Arg!” she tore her fingers through her long, mahogany hair to try to get it to behave. It was an effort in vain, as it continued to fall limply around her face.
Another knock sounded on the door, and Steph gave a laugh from the couch as Aimee jumped. “Impatient guy! You might want to get that!” her sister called to her with a laugh. Aimee just turned and stuck her tongue out at her twin.
She then pulled her pale blue sundress down a bit, wishing that she didn’t have those extra ten pounds around her thighs or that she had time to change into something that didn’t show so much leg. Mentally counting to three, she opened the door.
Audrey Randall heart attack

The Country Doctor’s Bride- by Anita Philmar

Can this doctor help a woman accused of murder?

Marriage or jail, which should she choose?

Excerpt:

“God, Nathaniel, you have to stop,” she groaned and dropped her head to his shoulder.

“Not until you agree to marry me.” He massaged her backside, rocking his hard length against her abdomen.

Darn, but she’d never felt like this before, so hot and needy with every caress compelling her to shed her clothes and have skin to skin contact.

Shocked by her thoughts, she tightened her hands on his shoulders and fought to control her basic urges. “Just because I desire you, doesn’t mean we have to get married.”

He grinned. “Has a man ever fucked you?”

Stunned by his words, she shoved at his chest, disturbed by his bold manner. “Of course not.”

Without releasing her, his focus narrowed, and he glared. “Good, because from now on you’re mine. Do us both a favor and say yes.”

“To what?” She argued, not willing to give into his claim that he’d have a voice in what she did or didn’t do.

The Country Doctor's Bride-AP Cover_200x300

 

Blurb:

A hot, historical western stand-alone story with a satisfying HEA.

With no ties to Texas, Dixy secures a ride to the next town on her way out of the state. The driver, Tobias Poe offers to let her rest. While she’s in the back, he is shot.

Rushing to save him, she arrives in Naked Bluff, Texas.

The town’s doctor, Nathaniel Murphy can’t save him, but can he save her?

Penniless, alone, and now a murder suspect, Dixy has no alternative but to accept his help. Can this couple build a future together?

Or will a killer silence her forever?

Buy now on Amazon!

 

More about Anita Philmar

Anita Philmar likes to create stories that push the limit. A writer by day and a dreamer by night she wants her readers to see the world in a new way.

Influenced by sci-fi programs, she likes to develop places where anything can happen and where erotic moments come to life in a great read.

Naughty or Nice?

Read her books and decide.

Website:  http://www.anitaphilmar.com/

Email: anitaphilmar@yahoo.com

Blog: http://www.anitaphilmar.blogspot.com/

FB: www.facebook.com/anita.philmar

GR: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1329767.Anita_Philmar

Twitter: https://twitter.com/anitaphilmar

Goodreads  https://www.goodreads.com/anitaphilmar

Amazon Author Page http://www.amazon.com/Anita-Philmar/e/B002BMBE8C

Historical Westerns Naked Bluff, Texas series

In Deep Water – Skinny-dipping to cool off in the Trinity River couldn’t cause any problems…could it?

http://www.amazon.com/Deep-Water-Naked-Bluff-Texas-ebook/dp/B00EOCROYK

In Too Deep – The peace of the day is shattered when her best friend steps too far into the Trinity River.

http://www.amazon.com/Deep-Naked-Bluff-Texas-Book-ebook/dp/B00IMQLOMC

Duty’s Bride  – Can Sadie have a new life or will her old one rear its ugly head?

http://www.amazon.com/Deputys-Bride-Naked-Bluff-Texas-ebook/dp/B00NUTJ5N6

More Than Ready – Can a determined woman win her heart’s desire?

http://www.amazon.com/Ready-Naked-Western-Historical-Romance-ebook/dp/B00XLWMATS

Other Historical Western – Texas Passion – A girl determine to get her man no matter the cost. http://www.amazon.com/Texas-Passion-ebook/dp/B0056B5STQ

Jaye Peaches stops by with a sexy, new sci fi!

I am so excited to have Jaye Peaches over today, with her brand new story, Chosen by the Governor. This one sounds hot! It’s by Jaye Peaches, so you know it’s going to be! 😉

Thank you for hosting me today. I’ve brought along an alien – Marco, the hunky tattooed governor of a distant penal colony. He has a new prisoner. Freya has recently arrived from Earth and has caught his eye. Marco has chosen her to his, and only his, but first he needs to ensure she understands what he expects from her.

 

Excerpt

With her back to the magnificent view, she pressed her palms onto the cool surface. There was nothing else on the desk. The console with its touch-activated panels was deactivated. The shiny black surface reflected her face, the tangled knots of hair that swung down and the feverish fire in her eyes.

Why didn’t she look alarmed or scared? Flushed, certainly, her cheeks tinged with pink, but it wasn’t due to heat nor shame. Her nudity hadn’t shocked her this time. No, something else—excitement? More likely lust. Her clitoris buzzed, wired to respond to the presence of an attractive man, and the silly organ continued to betray her true desires.

“Elbows down,” he said softly.

She bent lower and rested on her forearms. Her bottom had lifted higher than her shoulders. She breathed on the desk and a misty haze formed on the surface hiding her reflection.

“Legs apart.”

He delivered the command in a firmer voice. She needed it. Showing him her cleft, the bare lips of her sex, took more courage. She slid her feet sideways.

“Good,” he murmured.

A wave of goosebumps tingled down her back and legs. Why did it matter that he was pleased? This was his demand—this spanking, his choice of punishment—she’d not initiated any of it. However, his enforcement of the ‘be good’ command was working. She spread her legs wider and offered him a better view.

“A few with my hand, then,” he moved closer, “I’ll punish you properly.”

Properly! What the hell did that mean?

 

 chosenbythegovernor_600

Blurb:

When she is caught spying on the alien empire which has conquered Earth, Freya is shipped off to a prison colony on the distant planet Tagra. Upon her arrival, she is subjected to a thorough, intimate medical examination intended to assess her response to sexual stimulation, and when she protests the humiliating procedure her bare bottom is soundly spanked.

Marco takes his job as governor of Tagra seriously and he is well-known among the prisoners for his firm-handed discipline, but from the moment he first encounters Freya he cannot keep the feisty Earthling off his mind. After taking it upon himself to personally oversee her initial exam, he delights in bringing the naked, blushing human to one quivering climax after another.

Though Marco quickly proves that he will not hesitate to punish Freya when she defies the rules of the colony, her burning backside does nothing to diminish her growing need for him to claim her and take her long and hard. She soon finds herself falling ever more deeply in love with the handsome, dominant alien who both demands her submission and brings her pleasure beyond anything she could have ever imagined, but can she dare to hope that Marco will one day see her as more than just his prisoner and his plaything?

Publisher’s Note: Chosen by the Governor is an erotic romance novel that includes spankings, sexual scenes, medical play, elements of BDSM, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

 

BUY LINKS

Amazon

AllRomance

Barnes and Noble

Author Bio:

I’m an author of erotic D/s romances including Amazon bestsellers. All my books contain an element of BDSM, spankings or erotic games of sensual exploration. If you desire a little thrill, something to entice, then please take the time to read one of my books. Thank you!

When not writing, I’m busy spending time with her family, enjoying music, sometimes composing or drawing and if the weather allows, gardening.

 

Author Links:

 

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Jailed Little Jade by Allison West!

Wow, this erotic/ science fiction / AP from Allison West sounds like so much fun! And so naughty. 😉

Excerpt:

“Come.” Nanny Marie wasted no time, finding the hair brush she’d used earlier on Jade’s bottom.

With wide fear-filled eyes, Jade tore from Nanny Marie’s grasp and rushed toward the bed. There was no way out of the room. Only a mattress she could climb atop to get out of reach. Jade did just that, climbing and standing on the bed, arms crossed, defiant.

“Get down this instant!” Nanny Marie’s voice hitched and her cheeks burned.


Jade shook her head. “I don’t want another spanking.”


Her nanny snorted under her breath. “You should have thought about that before acting out. I was only going to brush the knots from your tangled hair. When I get ahold of you, Jade, you’ll get more than a spanking for your disobedience!”

 

JailedLittleJade

 

With a crappy ex-husband and a new lease on life, Jade Brooks moves to Spring Mills for a fresh start. What she gets is far more than she bargained for when Holden Foster shows up at her door.

He’s hot, dominating, and harbors a secret of intergalactic proportion.

When Jade is invited over to share a meal with Holden, she’s grateful for the company and a new friendship. Her curiosity gets the better of her when she finds a package on his counter and he tells her genuinely to open it up and see what was delivered.

The cylinder, a device that travels through time and space, opens a portal and leads Jade and her new sexy friend to a prison colony on his home planet of Adair, where spankings are a regular occurrence and age regression is a requirement for jailed women to rehabilitate within the system.

Given no choice but to become a little one, Jade must face a nanny with a firm hand, Holden as her poppa, and a blossoming relationship that is against the rules.

 

Buy Links

Amazon | Blushing Books

 

About the Author

Allison West is a #1 International Best-Selling Author in Science Fiction, Victorian, Historical, and BDSM Erotica. She also writes young adult novels under the name Ruth Silver.

Allison West has been inventing worlds and writing stories for years. Her favorite novels are those that leave a lasting impression, long after the final page is read. You can find more about Allison on Facebook, Twitter, and her blog “Spanking Author.” http://spankingauthor.com

BlogFacebook | Twitter | Amazon Author Central

 

 

Alta Hensley and Allison West stop by with a hot “Little” Victorian.

I am so excited to share this one! I absolutely loved this story, and was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed it. It was fantastic! You can see  my review here. 🙂

 

Excerpt:

“Come inside, have a seat,” Papa said. He patted the examination table.

Chewing her bottom lip nervously, Etta climbed atop the table, her legs dangling off. “Why am I here? I am not sick.”

“Doctor Colt works with all the students at Ashby,” Papa said. “His job is to make sure they are all in good health. He is going to do an examination on you today.”

It was not a question. Etta did not seem to have a choice. “What kind of examination?” She remembered her father’s doctor listening to his heart and ailing lungs.

“Doctor Colt is going to check your temperature, make sure your heart and lungs are strong, and that everything is working as it should be.”

“All right.” That did not sound so terrible.

“He is also going to examine you to make sure that your virginity is still intact.”

Those words were enough encouragement to get Etta to bolt from the bed. “Mr. Hartley! I can assure you that is not necessary!”

“Papa,” he warned, giving her a look that told her not to cross him. “And you, my little love, will do as I say.”

enrolling little etta by allison west and alta hensley

 

Blurb:

Philip Hartley owns an elite finishing school and a hidden gem that focuses on the sexual submission and complete discipline of young ladies. Behavior, expectations, and beliefs are quite different there. A finishing school to help a woman find that little girl which once was lost. A private school that requires their pupils to surrender their bodies, their minds, and their souls to their betrothed.

When Henrietta Waters’ estranged uncle decides it best for her to attend the Ashby Chateau, and become betrothed to a proper husband, she has no choice but to comply. Especially since the recent death of her father has left her with very little options.

But can Etta fully surrender in ways she has never imagined? Can she allow a nanny to take care of her, fully take care of her every need? Can she submit to discipline and sexual training as the purity of her inner child blends with the fire of her sexual desires? And is it possible for her to truly become the little love that Headmaster Philip Hartley demands?

Publisher’s Note: Enrolling Little Etta is a Victorian erotic romance that focuses on ageplay, anal play, spankings, and graphic sex. If a spicy Victorian is not your cup of tea, then please do not take a sip.

BLUSHING BOOKS | AMAZON

 

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Allison West is a #1 Best-Selling Author in Victorian, Historical, and BDSM Erotica. She has penned more than 20 stories in multiple genres under the name Ravyn Rayne (erotic) and Ruth Silver (young adult).

Allison West has been inventing worlds and writing stories for years. Her favorite novels are those that leave a lasting impression, long after the final page is read. You can find more about Allison on Facebook, Twitter, and her blog “Spanking Author.” Want to contact her? Email allison@spankingauthor.com

Other Titles by Allison West/Ravyn Rayne/Ruth Silver

Fire Licked

The Murderess

Betrayed By Blood

Frozen Kisses

The Emerald Virgin

The Amber Voyeur

The Sapphire Sacrifice

Burning Desire

Dating Wars

Hot-Blooded Lust

Palace Secrets

Maiden Claimed

Grave Misfortune

Aberrant

Moirai

Isaura

Dead Girl Walking

Forget Me Knot

Orenda

Alta Hensley

Alta Hensley is a #1 Amazon best-selling erotic romance author who has had top-selling books in erotic science fiction, humor, BDSM and historical. She writes the naughty… and then the cure for it.

Being a multi-published author in the Domestic Discipline genre, Alta is known for her alpha heroes, sweet love stories, hot eroticism, and engaging tales of the constant struggle between dominance and submission.

You can find out more about Alta on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads. You can also contact her at hensleyalta@yahoo.com

Other Titles by Alta Hensley and Blushing Books:

Traditional Love

Traditional Terms

Traditional Change

Poppa’s Progeny

In the Palace of Lazar – Harem: Book One

Conquering Lazar – Harem: Book Two

Ruby Rose

Of Yesterday

Captured by Time (with Carolyn Faulkner)

The Slave Huntsman

Anthologies:

Coming to Terms

Milestones

Confessions of a Spanking Author

$50 gift certificate up for grabs, and a sexy new release from Daizie Draper

daizy drapier sororoty saint

 

From the pen and mind of USA Today Bestselling Author Daizie Draper comes Sorority Saint: Domination & Dance Collide, a sizzling collision of dance and domination in one sizzling-hot romance.

Enter to win the NEW RELEASE  giveaway for a $50 Amazon gift card.

When Jason, a brash and cocky jazz musician and house Dom, comes to the aid of a shy, conservative dancer who is mugged outside the BDSM club where he works, he offers to scratch her curious itch and teach her about BDSM in exchange for her dancing in his music video. The heat their opposite proclivities stir up is too scorching hot for them to ignore, but indulging in passion just might destroy them both.

Author: Daizie Draper
Publisher: Pink Cocktail Publishing
Length: 308 pages
Type: Stand-alone BDSM romance, no cliffhanger

 

soro saint cover

NOTE FROM THE DOM, JASON DELANEY: I know I’m sexy. It’s why they come to me, hunt me down, beg so sweetly. Be my pirate. Be my daddy. Be my prince. For some reason, she doesn’t beg, even though she kinda sorta wants to—Shayna, that self-righteous, prissy little saint with ballerina grace. After I tend to the sorority girl when she’s mugged at the BDSM club where I’m a House Dom, she agrees to dance in my jazz-rock video in exchange for me teaching her the ins and outs of Dominance and submission that she’s oh-so curious about. Oh, I’ll teach her all right. But I wanna tick her off first. Her fury’s just as sexy as her splits. She fights me, goes toe-to-toe, gets hot, but she lets the angel on her shoulder govern her every move and keep her from knowing erotic bliss. I just know a naughty devil’s in there. And I’m gonna free hers, then tie it up and spank it and drive it wild with savage lust so it has the drive to duke it out with the haloed thrill-robber who’s held the victor’s belt for way too long. My money’s on the bad girl.

Will I go to Hell for corrupting a saint? Don’t know. But after she dove into her panties and showed me those glossy fingers upon command when she should’ve slapped me instead, I’d gladly take on any inferno to find out just how naughty and subalicious she truly is. And I will, provided we don’t kill each other first with our verbal daggers or gropey hands.

Only 99 cents for a limited time!
Order your copy NOW!
Available in Kindle Unlimited.

AMAZON

 

sorority saint graphic

EXCERPT
A heated moment between Shayna and Jason

“Um,” I licked my lip, “I was just wondering, if you’re honestly happy doing what you do. Keeping a distance? Not getting laid even?”

“Uh, thoroughly thrilled? No. Happy? Usually. Content and satiated? Definitely. Good enough answer, Sunshine?”

“I guess. Did it hurt, that your BDSM relationships didn’t work out?”

“Of course it hurt. And it’s not just losing the BDSM aspect, but the actual person, the closeness you’ve built, those shooting-the-shit and silly moments you share with someone who knows you better than you even know yourself. Especially in this lifestyle, I find, it’s extremely hard to reset in a new kinkified romance, set my sights on someone else, and aim to discover someone’s exact spank threshold or favorite flower. Not worth the hassle.” He returned to his food, seeming eager to flee from the black hole that tried to suck him in about a minute ago. I watched him as he expertly ate fried rice with chopsticks. Damn, that mouth.

“How do you do that?”

He pulled his attention off the game again to look at me. “Do what now?”

“Use those?”

“Come here.” He wiggled his finger, urging me closer. “Gimme your hand. I’ll show you.”

I scootched over.

He put his set down and took my hand in his. A charge of electricity raced through me when he grazed my palm with his thumb. He held up my chopsticks, separated but parallel to one another, then moved my fingers with delicacy and softly said, “One finger goes under, one in between as a fulcrum, and the index finger curls slightly at the top like this. Now bring your thumb up to meet them.” Finding his gentleness so utterly sensual, I got buzzy and held my breath as he set me up.

He let go.

I frowned. “That?” I wanted his touch back. Even just that little bit was heaven.

“Yep. Now, raise just the top stick slightly, like an alligator mouth.” He squawked and I laughed.

“Okay.” I tried, but I couldn’t get much lift. “I can’t. My fingers don’t move like that.”

“Anyone can do it, Shayna.”

“I’m trying. I don’t have the most nimble fingers. I can’t do the Vulcan sign either.” I wasn’t trying to manipulate him into touching me again. I was literally too feeble and inept to do it correctly.

He put his hands back over mine and I cheered inside. “No, like this.” His warm, manly hands tried to get me to move right. “You can fucking do splits but not wiggle your damn fingers? You drive me nuts. You just need to get a little lift. It’s not an airplane here.”

I laughed. “I’m trying, Jason. Okay. Okay. Think I got it. How’s this?” My little wiggle was still pathetic and I cringed.

“Uuuuh, total crap. But we’re not tryin’a impress Chinese investors, so, guess it’s good enough. Try picking up some food now.”

I crimped a snow pea, but it cartwheeled out of the unattached tongs and sailed into his nose. I cracked up and slapped my lips. “Ohmygod. So sorry.”

“Like hell you are.” He lifted a chicken finger, dunked it in duck sauce, bit down on his grin, and squinted his blue eyes in deviousness.

“Jason! Don’t. Don’t you dare! No! No! I’m sorry.” I screamed and held my hand up. As soon as I cried again, “Jason!” he lobbed it at my chest and it bounced off me and onto the floor.

“Oops. Sorry.”

“No you’re not. What the hell. You took aim and bombed me!”

“Payback, brat.”

I opened my mouth, shocked that he did that, and he swept the glob off my cleavage with his thumb and sucked it clean with a loud kissing noise. “Uh!” I laughed so hard. “You’re the brat. And I’m not afraid of you. You wanna pick a fight with me? I will slam you down any day. Any damn day.” And I did. Or tried to. I leaped onto his lap in a straddle and shoved him down with a palm crash on his beefy shoulders, but I should’ve known he went down too easily.

Laughing, he quickly flipped us and rolled on top of me. We were both suddenly out of breath, winded, abated, aroused. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, zoomed his face down, and sucked and bit my breast where sticky duck sauce residue remained. I howled in surprise and could feel his cock growing hard against me. I ached like nothing else for him to kiss me, to kiss me hard and dirty, to claim my mouth like he just did my boob. I craved it with unmatched fervor, with the deepest longing, especially when he pulled up and looked down at me … wow, like that. He blazed into me. Our chests rose and fell together, and the sound of our respiration created a sultry detonation in the room. “Please, Jason. Please. Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Kiss me. I need your lips on mine.” I squished sobs behind my clamped jaws before they could fly out and shame me.

“No. I’m not kissing you. I can’t.”

“What, are you like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman or something?”

“Like Julia Roberts? I don’t even know what that means.”

“She played this prostitute who’d do anything with a guy except kiss on the mouth.”

“Yeah, I guess, that’s pretty much my deal. I don’t readily serve up my cock, my mouth, or my heart to just anyone.”

“But … you kissed Addison.”

“How do ya know that?”

“She told me, said you were an amazing kisser.”

“She said that?”

I nodded. “Please, Jason? We’re playing all fiery here. I crave your lips on mine. It’s not fair.”

“No. You are not her, and her boyfriend happened to be screwing her at the time, so it was just part of a ménage scene. That fiery thing between us is exactly why I can’t. We’ll both get scorched. You’re too damn dangerous.”

“I’m not. I just wanna … feel your lips. Please. Just once. For like five seconds.”

“No. It’s a bad idea, a bad, bad drug,” he said, but I couldn’t tell if he was referring to his lips or mine. His hand glided around my throat and he bent down and breathed hot and heavy in my ear before planting a gentle kiss on my temple. “Sweet baby.” He kept saying, “I can’t … I can’t … I can’t,” in a hushed voice like a mantra, but he failed to convince himself even as another, “I can’t,” left his mouth right before he placed it on mine with a nose breath of need. He drank me in and his hand at my neck slid back through my hair and under my head as his tongue surged in through my parted lips. He drove that clit-tickler in so strong and sure with a predatory claim. God, playing saxophone gave him lips with the power of a hurricane. I felt like I was merging with the floor and shuddered against him as he slammed the slick stake into me, over and over again, that said I was his, all his. His slut. His brat. His property. His doll. His sunshine. His!

Just a second ago, I was trying to muster up the strength to deal with another rejection, so my mind and body were shocked to be soaring from his deep, roving thrusts instead. God, he is an amazing kisser. My toes curled. His lips perfectly attuned with mine, spanning wide then shrinking down to tighter circles in synchronicity. I sucked on and tongue-groped his generous offering with all my might, and he groaned sexy, vibrating a lovely bass note in his throat. I was hungry, aching with need, and so damn hot. He started to tear at my flesh with a barbarity that had me moaning and breathing faster against his face. “Ah, Jason.” I wrapped my legs around his back as his snaking tongue and frenzied handholds made my core burn. I mashed my tingling zone against his erection with hip swirls, and he grabbed a hearty handful of ass.

He tore away to ravish my neck, his teeth scraping my flesh, deliciously all vampire.

Moaning his name, I rolled up into him, trying to get closer and rub against his soul. I broke. I gave up. I waved the white flag. I was so done fighting it. I had to have him.

CONNECT WITH DAIZIE DRAPER

Daizie Draper is a happily married sex fiend, who loves to write naughty stories that mix the sweetness of chocolate with the bite of leather. She likes sensuality, kink, fruit, impressionistic art, spanking and beauty. She hates big bugs, freedom crushers, injustice, artificial orange and onions. Along with 27 other people in the world, she has never read Fifty Shades of Grey. Her other works include Sorority Pledge Saga, Unlocking the Billionaire, Rock Candy, Christmas on the Run and Nothing But Trouble.
For new release info, sign up for Daizie’s Delicious Dirt.
To get freebies, ARCs and swag goodies as a part of her team, sign up for Daizie’s Dolls.

TWITTER | FACEBOOK | GOODREADS | WEBSITE | PINTEREST

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Scare Your Pants Off- Monday: Demons

scare your pants off week

Welcome to Day 1 of the Scare Your Pants Off – week.

If you haven’t already heard all about the prizes and authors that will be present this week, click here. 🙂 (Don’t forget. The more days you reply, the more chances to win a prize!)

Today’s post has only one excerpt. It’s a horror, fantasy, erotica called The Scholomance, by R. Lee Smith.  This one got my heart racing beautifully!

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r lee smith scholmance cover 2

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There was a door here. At the very end of the hall, flanked by carved pillars and dully-glowing blisters, a door. Similar in many ways to every other door in the lyceum, she supposed, but much larger. Like all the theater doors, its face had been carved in relief to show a demon triumphant over a cluster of writhing, pleading supplicants, yet the supplicants in this case were not naked humans, but demons themselves, of many different kinds. She was pretty sure she recognized the tree-like Zyera among them, and she thought the angular one huddled near the bottom and clawing at his own back might be Horuseps, but for the most part, they were so grotesquely intertwined, she couldn’t make out individuals. All of this held a certain fascination for her but of course, what interested her the most was that the doors were closed at all. The backswept horns of one upturned face made clear handles, but when Mara gave them a cursory tug, they didn’t budge.

Mara put her ear to the door and heard, naturally, her own pulse echoing back from unmoved stone to her own ear. She rubbed her palms briskly on her robe, braced her feet, and gave the horns as powerful a pull as she could manage.

Mara spent a few fruitless minutes searching without expectation for some secret latch or button hidden among the carvings. When she came up empty, as she’d rather thought she would, she found a place on the carved wall where she could lean and brood over the matter.

How likely was it really that this door led anywhere important? Her sense of spatial relationships were badly askew underground, but she knew she was higher than the portcullis where she and the other applicants had been brought in, much higher than the Oubliette, and she thought she was higher than even the Black Door and whatever lay beyond it.

The wall was not as flat as it needed to be. Stone elbows and gyrating hips shoved painfully into her back and kept her neck bent at an awkward angle. When she straightened up, light from the glowing blisters fell across the demon’s mouth, making him seem to sneer at her for giving up. Her own lips twitched sullenly back at it; she stayed.

So there were no mechanical switches…this meant the likelihood of a mechanical lock was also low. There had to be another way in.

On impulse, Mara touched it. Not the handle this time, but the door itself. Her hand traveled up over writhing knots of pleading demons to the Master who stood over them all. She wondered if it was meant to represent whoever was on the other side, the way the other theater doors acted as portraits for those who taught within. If so, this one cut an impressive figure.

It was a man’s shape, essentially. Heavily-built and wrapped in muscles well beyond most male proportions, he posed atop his writhing fellows with one clawed foot digging at someone’s spine, his arms slightly outspread to further emphasize his sheer size and strength, staring straight out and down at her. He had hair and he wore it in a high knot and a long fall that was, like the carvings around him, almost Asian and almost Aztec, but somehow neither one. A short ridge of blunt horns grew in symmetry along his hairline—the smallest perhaps thumb-sized directly over his eyes, growing progressively larger as they wrapped around his head, so that the ones sprouting above his pointed ears swept up and out like daggers. More of these bony nubs grew along his jaw, they outlined his thick neck, jutted from his wrists, ribs, thighs and biceps. The jagged points of larger spikes thrust themselves out from his shoulders, his back, even his hips. He wore some kind of layered skirt or complicated loincloth, baring his powerful body in defiance of any vulnerability, and the belt that cinched it all together was as sharply studded with points as he was. His eyes were deep-set, his mouth somewhat snouted. She couldn’t tell if he were snarling or just grinning, but the effect was not a cheering one, whichever. Like a fun-house portrait, the demon’s gaze had a way of following her as she paced restlessly before it. She couldn’t say there was any malevolence in his expression, but it was disquieting to stand before it and feel, however foolishly, that she was being seen and sneered at.

That notion, illogical as it was, suddenly put her in mind of the Oubliette again, and the tar-thick intelligence which had sealed its doors. After a moment’s thought, she touched the handles here, but didn’t try to pull on them. Instead, she opened her mind to them, sending out thought like a spear, searching for that vital crack in an enemy’s armor. She got no sense of awareness, but there was more to the door than just stone, she was certain of it.

**Open,** she thought.

She felt, or imagined she felt, a subtle vibration under her fingertips, just briefly, pulsing once through the rock and into stillness once more. ‘The mountain’s heart beats only once a year,’ Mara thought vaguely and gave her head a shake to clear it. When she looked up, the demon’s stone face was looking down, his teeth bared in what struck her increasingly as a condescending smile.

Outwardly, Mara did not move, apart from a slight curling of her upper lip, but outward appearances ceased to matter. If Connie herself had walked by, Mara couldn’t have noticed. All her attention drew inward, flexing into focus for one explosive command. She felt it drive out of her with good, righteous force. She felt it slam home and drive itself in deep. ‘Open’ was the word she gave and that word resonated once, just once, seeming to blow itself up into something far bigger than its echo, something ancient and alien of herself.

The doors didn’t budge, not even to hum this time, but Mara, without any hesitation, slipped her hands down to the curved horns of the pleading demon, and pulled them easily apart. She was not surprised. It was impossible that any intelligence could hear that word and not obey. Late that night, she would think this hugely conceited of herself, but at the time, it seemed perfectly reasonable. She pulled the doors open and stood between them and felt, just for a moment, ready to take whatever hidden thing laired within and crush it in her fist.

‘I’m here to find Connie,’ she thought, and that tight, feral sense of triumph faded. Connie. Right. This wasn’t a challenge, but a search. She let go of the doors.

Air breathed over her in one long, slow draft, but only once. It brought with it a musty smell, reminding her in a vague way of attics or basements—a dark place, where forgotten things gathered dust.

Very dark. In the dim glow spilling in from the hall, Mara could make out the pregnant bulge of another lamp on her right, but it wasn’t working at the moment. Moving slowly, testing each step, Mara felt her way through the doors and along the rock wall until her fingers brushed over the waxy lump of the blister-lamp. Light was slow in coming and it guttered badly when it did, but it was illumination enough to make out the next lamp, and the next, until she had awakened all five set in the wide outer ring of this classroom.

Because that was just what this was, another theater. No bigger, and not really more impressive than any of those below her in the lyceum. Disappointed, Mara climbed carefully down the risers to the empty dais, then turned at the bottom and looked up at her footprints in the dust. They were deep, deep enough to cast shadows in the bottom. She was the first person to walk here in years, in centuries maybe.

They’d closed it off for some reason. Maybe the demon who taught here had died, or left the mountain, or moved on to another part of it to work. Strange, that they wouldn’t salvage any of his stuff, she thought, as she ran her eyes over shelves of glass jars and boxes, books and archaic objects, all heavily-grimed with neglect.

This was likely to be her only chance to fully explore a theater. Mara headed for the stair behind the Master’s dais. It was wide, steep, and dropped down into absolute black—too inviting to resist. She had very little light, none at all after she’d rounded the second corner, but she went slow and kept her hands on the wall, hoping at each step to come across one of the blister-lamps.

After an eternity of climbing down in a black spiral, she finally caught a glimmer of light at the bottom. It grew as she approached, enough to make out an open doorway, covered in layers of hanging curtains, no less. They waved in the grip of a cold breeze, spilling out slivers of tantalizing light with each lazy billow of crimson, black, and gold.

‘This is it,’ Mara thought, with no real idea of what ‘it’ was. She crossed the final distance in a few short steps, letting determination lead her when common sense might fear to tread. The curtains were thick and old, but although ragged, they didn’t have that greasy/fuzzy feel of neglected fabric. When she passed between them, they tried to cling to her, and she was compelled to move completely out of their reach, not into daylight, but into a natural light all the same.

The draft, of course. The freshness of the air she breathed. These things had been obvious to her, but the moon held her transfixed. The far wall was open, the whole of it, without a ledge or even a rail to keep idle wanderers from stepping off and into oblivion. Mara went, mindful of the danger, but she had to go. The moon would be no closer, really, for her few extra steps, but she went. She had forgotten it was so beautiful. She had forgotten how the stars would shine. And they were no different here, in the Scholomance’s mountain of secret arts, than they were out the window of her bedroom in her mother’s house. Somehow, that didn’t seem fair.

Nothing happened, nothing changed, but the air grew somehow denser. She wasn’t alone here. She knew she wouldn’t be.

“They told me the time between first-bell and last was daytime,” she said.

Her voice didn’t ring boldly out into the room. The open air pushed it back. The stone walls swallowed it. It was the voice of an insect.

His was far more impressive—deep and rolling, relaxed, even amused, but never human, never that.

“Days are that by which mortals measure time’s passage. For simplicity’s sake, we call it so. As our students seeth not the sky, what harm?”

Mara turned toward him, not fast. He rose from his lazy crouch in the shadows just as slowly, as deliberately. The carving on the door had been a very good likeness after all. His skin was grey and rough even to look at, like living stone, raised and thick where the ivory spikes pierced through. His hair was black and very fine, and waved out behind him in the same breeze that moved the curtains. His eyes glowed green, just a little.

“Shall I disrobe?” he asked, indicating the ornate buckle of his plated belt.

*****

Blurb:

For centuries, there has been a legend of a hidden school where magic is taught by the demons who dwell there to anyone who seeks them out, but they ask a terrible price: Anyone who reaches the door of the Scholomance may enter, but the Devil takes every tenth student who tries to leave.

A hidden school. Demonic masters. An inescapable fate for one out of every ten graduates. But Connie would do anything to have the magic her best friend was born with.

And Mara would do anything to get Connie back.

 

Buy Link:

Amazon

 

Thanks for stopping by!

🙂

 

 

Erotica Writers and Erotic Lives, from Patricia Green

Hey Friends!   Patricia Green is taking over my blog today. Enjoy!

🙂

*****

Erotica writers must be twenty-five year old models or superstars who are keeping themselves anonymous by using a pen name and a clever disguise. Well, that’s what a lot of people think. But the fact is, erotica writers are just like everyone else. They are all ages, all sizes, from all walks of life, with husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends (sometimes more than one), with kids, without kids, employed, unemployed, disabled or exercise buffs. The things they have in common are a fertile imagination and a desire to make the reader excited. No one writes published erotica without thinking about how it will affect the reader.

Like all kinds of fiction writers, erotica writers are going for a reaction. Not just any reaction, but one that makes the readers’ toes curl and a blush steal over her cheeks. Sometimes, it makes them squeeze their legs together, or hide their private parts under a pillow. Oo, la, la! The point is the reaction. We never want you to be bored or skip over the sexy bits to get to the “good parts.” And, although we want there to be a story, too, to us the “good parts” include the erotic content.

Where do erotica writers get their inspiration? Do they all have phenomenal sex lives? You’d have to ask a lot of erotica writers for honest answers to Kinsey-esque questions. But, exactly like their variations in social status and family life, I’m betting there is a complete spectrum of sexiness among erotica writers. Some are more intimate than sexy. A few are crazed sex maniacs. Most are somewhere in the middle, with healthy sex lives that are influenced by everyday events. When the kids are sick, the sex life goes on hiatus, but the intimacy continues (we hope). Intimacy doesn’t always mean sex. It often means a glance and a shy smile, or holding hands on the couch, or sharing a spoonful of crème brulée. Many of these things find their way into erotica, especially erotic romance. Intimacy is the ultimate in romantic. And sex, for an erotic writer, can be wild and crazy or slow and steady. If he’s a good erotic writer, there will be a mix in his book, as there is in real life relationships. Even one night stands are often a mixed up melding of styles meant to excite the primitive urges.

The bottom line is that you don’t have to live an erotic life to write erotica. You have to have an imagination, the desire to make the reader feel something special, and a strong grasp of what intimacy and romance are. The writer might not be interested in romance, but she has to know what qualifies. There are some pretty dirty stories out there, and they certainly can be erotic under the right circumstances, but not every one will move you. If one does, it’s a keeper, meant to be dog-eared and marked up and a sexy friend for life.

***

Patricia Green is a full-time fiction writer specializing in erotic romance. She writes love stories that emphasize fun characters with quirky personalities. Patricia is the author of more than 20 published novels and novellas.

In her personal life, Patricia is married and the mother of twins. When she’s not being the angel of domestic harmony and a semi-crazed creator of fictional friends, she loves to read, crochet, knit and watch hockey and baseball.

You can reach Patricia Green in the following ways:

Email: pig (at) patriciagreenbooks (dot) com

Website/Blog: http://www.patriciagreenbooks.com

Spanking romance pages: http://patriciagreenbooks.com/books-featuring-spanking/

Facebook http://www.facebook.com/Patricia.Green.Romance

Twitter: @PatriciaIGreen

Google+: http://plus.google.com/+PatriciaGreen

Amazon Author Page:  http://www.amazon.com/Patricia-Green/e/B002RCB0IK/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

Goodreads Author Page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4541511.Patricia_Green