Tag Archives: fantasy

Author Spotlight with Jane Burrelli

Jane Burrelli brings us a light fantasy epic with DD elements, involving a feisty heroine and a forbidding king.

Hidden Embers

(Book 1 Bride of Fire)

by Jane Burrelli

What happens when the forbidden is fated?

Sales Blurb:

When the gods breathed life into us, they blessed us with an element. It’s a pity they didn’t care to bless anything else.

The Empress of the Throne of Flames is assassinated. Acting as a decoy to protect the next Empress, the undervalued Princess Nymira flees to the north. She must now carry the sacred sword, the symbol of her people and rejoin the Empress.

It is a mission Mira cannot fail but first, she must traverse the Western wastelands. The journey is perilous and the once sheltered princess finds herself rescued by the Ice Lord, Zorren. The leader of the Iceari, the natural enemy to Firelanders.

Zorren is reputed to be a ruthless leader and Mira fights the attraction that blazes between them. Resulting in a clash of not only their wills but also their elements. After all, fire and ice don’t mix. Or do they?

This is book one of the new Bride of Fire series. Join the journey to a mystical world and the adventure and romance that awaits.

Publisher’s Note: This fantasy romance is intended for adults only and contains elements of danger, suspense, mystery, adventure, and sensual scenes set in an apocalyptic world.

Purchase Links

Amazon Author Page UK: https://amzn.to/2GI6gdc

Amazon Author Page US: https://www.amazon.com/Jane-Burrelli/e/B01ACPOKD0/

Excerpt:

“What in the Goddess’ name are you doing?” I screeched. Rearing up I found a firm hand planted in the center of my back pinning me in place. The only thing I had succeeded in doing was loosening my own trews. To my horror, his fingers curled into the waistband. I threw my hips from side to side, my attempts at evasion pitiful. “You can’t do this!” My protests went unheeded. He calmly took a firm grasp of my hips and threw his leg over mine. Panting, I found I couldn’t move, trapped like a creature in a snare. “I’m making sure I can see if I truly hurt you.” The fabric rasped over my tender skin. Shivering, my squirming bottom revealed to the elements, the chilled air bringing a moment of relief. “Trust me, it hurt.” His hand rubbed the reddened flesh, murmuring, “Your skin colors so easily.” The touch ignited a steady throb between my legs—what in Khatri’s name? The pause allowed me to gather my wits. “Do you know why you are in this position?” Khatri’s tits, he wanted to talk now! “Because you can’t abide being defied!” I hissed, struggling to concentrate on anything but calloused fingers now tracing patterns on my heated flesh. Closer and closer to the apex and I wiggled, longing for more of the same. The soft touch lingering at the sensitive crease where buttock met thigh. I shivered but it was different from the previous man who had touched me. It wasn’t revulsion, it ignited a fire that I didn’t know how to put out. “Is that what you think?” Lazily the finger drew back and forth, and my muscles jerked in response. The unexpected wallop shattered the first inklings of pleasure and sent my cheeks bouncing. The sting increasing tenfold without clothing to mute it. “Try again.”

Author Bio

When I realised that the world was not hiring for a ‘sarcastic but benign Supreme Ruler of the Universe’ I’ve decided to focus on my passion. By day I work in a UK company’s finance department and by night I become my alter ego Scribble Girl or as my good friends have affectionately dubbed me the ‘sex author’. Always armed with a notepad and pen in the black hole I call a handbag, I have been writing never ending stories since the age of 11 and this all stemmed from my love of reading.

I love reading. Period!

I’m part of the Harry Potter generation and while waiting between books would literally devour any book I could get my hands on. Let’s put it this way J.K Rowling has a lot to answer for. I adore that there is no end in sight to where your own imagination can take you and that between the pages of a book you are transported to another world.

Happy Reading!

Stay Connected

website: www.janeburrelli.com

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Jane-Burrelli/e/B01ACPOKD0

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Jane-Burrelli/e/B01ACPOKD0

Good Reads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14842736.Jane_Burrelli

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Author Spotlight – Jennifer Bene

Monster (Appearing in… Hero Undercover Box Set)

Available now only 99¢ until July 3rd, then it goes up to $6.99

BUY LINKS:

Monster Blurb

I’m a monster.

There are no pretty words to wrap up the things I’ve done, the things I’ve been witness to, all in the name of the law. But wrong or right gets mixed up the longer you’re undercover, and what used to be a mask feels more like who I really am with each passing day.

Cold, ruthless, vicious. I’m Paulo García’s monster, and I’d swallowed that bitter pill whole, learned to deal with it… until she stormed into the house like some avenging angel.

And that’s what she is, an angel.

Nicole wants to save her brother. She showed up with an envelope full of cash and a smart mouth and found herself in a den of monsters. I wish I could say I was the best of them, I wish I could say I wanted to protect her — but she’s so damn sweet, and my life’s been bitter for too long.

And all I want is a taste before this world destroys her.

***

Boxset Blurb

CAN YOU HANDLE 25 SMOKIN’ HOT, TAKE-CHARGE, BAD BOYS?

Don’t miss this sizzling compilation of panty-melting military masters, determined detectives, and rope twirling cowboys. Your knees will grow weak with each take-charge encounter leaving you breathless for more. Sink into the novellas and submit to these sinfully strict salacious alpha males.

Penned by 25 New York Times, USA Today, and award-winning, best-selling romance authors.

Annabel Joseph, Addison Cain, Renee Rose, Maggie Ryan, Maddie Taylor, Emily Tilton, Trent Evans, Jennifer Bene, Jane Henry, Sophie Kisker, Megan Michaels, Katherine Deane, Maggie Carpenter, Maisy Archer, Alyssa Bailey, Claire Conrad, Stevie MacFarlane, Piper Stone, Anya Summers, Lucy Wild, BJ Wane, A.C. Rose, April Hill, Amelia Smarts, Meredith O’Reilly

***

Excerpt

The boys opened the front door, and Paulo strolled into the sitting room, making his way to the wet bar. One of the most violent drug lords ever to come out of South America, and he looked like he was on vacation with his casual clothes, his falsely friendly demeanor. My grip on the tequila bottle tensed as I stared at the man, but I made sure my expression was blank. It didn’t matter how much I hated him, I was his until the job was done.

“Not curious about the girl, Andre?” Paulo asked, tilting up his fresh drink to take a sip.

“Why should I be curious when I can get the play by play just from listening?”

“Well, José seems to think she’s a security risk.”

“If you need her handled, I’ll do it, jefe. Otherwise, I see plenty of ass walking around Miami.” I stayed still. Discussing shit like this was practically second nature now.

Paulo chuckled, leaning back with his elbows on the bar. “That’s what I like about you, Andre. Cold as ice.” He waved his drink at the men crowding the front door where a buzz of conversation had picked up. “The others are so hot tempered, they don’t think. You think.”

“Emotion clouds judgment.”

“You’re right. My father used to say… mata a tu corazón, o te matará. Do you know this phrase?”

I hadn’t heard it before, but I knew what it meant, and it fit Paulo perfectly. “Kill your heart, or it will kill you.”

A shark’s grin spread across Paulo’s features. “Exactly. Emotion makes you weak, and weakness is death.”

“Your father was a smart man,” I answered, voice on automatic, but the words were almost overridden by the feminine shout that came from the front door.

“Are you in there Paulo García? HUH?”

The man’s eyebrows lifted the tiniest fraction, his chilling smile not shifting. “Let her in, José.”

“Keep your fucking hands off me.” The blonde that stumbled into the room from the foyer was clad in shorts and a form fitting blue shirt that had some phrase across it in pale, swirling text. Male laughter followed her, and I forced myself to be still, not even breathing so I wouldn’t move.

She was definitely American, and fucking beautiful, and as I turned my eyes back to Paulo I knew the man smelled blood in the water. A wicked hunger waking up in those coal black eyes — the same hunger that I hated myself for feeling. “Hola, señorita. What can I do for you?”

“Do for me?” Her voice was practically boiling with rage, tanned cheeks flushing with it as she held out a thick envelope. “How about leaving my little brother the fuck alone? I’ve got your money, and I want you to take it and then never fucking speak to him again — any of you! That is what you can do for me, asshole.”

Marco and Diego started laughing behind her, amused by her little outburst as they looked over her curves, her strong legs, all the way down to the multi-colored running shoes on her feet. Even Paulo seemed vaguely amused as he spread his arms wide. “I have no idea who your brother is, belleza, but if he owes me money that was his choice.”

“Fuck you! I know you hurt Chris, threatened him, but this is it. Take your money, and get out of his life!” She shook the envelope again, shouting, and my cock twitched at the same moment my stomach dropped.

Brave and stupid. Paulo was going to eat her alive.

Author Bio:

Jennifer Bene is an international bestselling author of erotic romance. She’s had #1 top-selling books in BDSM, Suspense, Thrillers, Action & Adventure, Fantasy, Science Fiction, and Horror. While she’s been writing for years, it’s always been the dark stuff that makes her tingly, so her books are full of aggressive alpha males, feisty women who may or may not have a submissive streak, and intense, psychological storylines. Don’t worry though, she also insists on having a nice little happily-ever-after! Because without the dark, we’d never appreciate the light.

Want to get a FREE book, news about upcoming releases, giveaways, appearances, and more? Sign up for her mailing list!

Website – https://jenniferbene.com/
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Fan Group – https://www.facebook.com/groups/JenniferBeneDarkHaven/
Twitter – https://twitter.com/jbeneauthor
Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/jbeneauthor/

***

The Big Brother fantasy – another personal musing :)

It’s time for another personal post. 🙂

This one is not sexual, and I already know that the word “fantasy” conjures up quite a different image than what I really want, but for lack of better words, and coffee, I’m going with it for now.

The other day, I replied on a post, that I wasn’t really into Stepbrother stories. (for the record, once again, I am a firm believer in “Your kink may not be mine, and that’s okay.”).

I got to thinking about it this morning while washing dishes.  “What is the big emotional factor behind me not getting into a kink that so many of my other friends do get into?”

It’s the Big Brother fantasy.

captain america

(I even figured out who I want to be my big brother, LOL. Yes, it is most definitely a fantasy. 😉 )

 

I have a big brother “fantasy”, and have for almost all my life.

No sex here. None whatsoever.

In my dreams and fantasies, I have always longed for a big brother.

A big brother that would stick up for me, kick bullies’ asses for me.

Cuss me out if I came home late, and forgot to call.

But wash my mouth out with soap if I dared to use the same words, LOL.

Hold me on his lap, and let me cry over the latest stupid drama (probably Facebook induced).

Remind me that I am a good person, and deserve the best in life.

Spank me over his knee, if I am not doing the best for myself.

 

overprotectove big brother

 

There’s plenty more. But I think you get the picture.

This isn’t all child and teenage based, though. It’s an adult wish as well.

As an adult, he would back off at times, but always be that safety net. Big Brother, the one I could always count on when I needed him.

He would probably die a million times, watching me make mistakes, but he would never turn his back on me, would never leave me. Would always love me.

My protector, my big brother would be there, because his main existence in life would be to be THERE for me. LOL, that’s a little egoistical and selfish, but hey, it’s my fantasy.

And here’s the thing, a real big brother would not ever have sexual feelings towards me, nor I toward him. We would love each other unconditionally, and give each other the strength to make it through life.

I would be the annoying, yet adorable, but always there for him, little sister.

He would be the Good Lord, this big jerk has pissed me off again, but he always has my back, big brother.

big brother picture

That’s my fantasy.

I’ve always tried to make it come true, by dating older or more mature guys. But it never quite turned out the way I planned.

What I portrayed as a need for sibling intimacy and connection, was always taken as sexual connection. Men never understood that.

I’ve always been drawn to the big brother type. That guy with a little hint of what I was looking for. But unfortunately, it confuses men. They take flirting as an invitation for sexual activity.

And to be honest, all I really want is the snuggles. And the safety net, And the bond.

And the spankings.

🙂

Psychologically, there might be something deeper. Like an Electra complex sort of thing. I don’t know. But that’s the fun thing about thinking, reading, talking and growing.

But for now, at least I have enough information to get going.

I have a Big Brother fantasy. I am probably the only woman in the world that feels that way.

LOL, which will make it very difficult to sell the idea of a brother  / sister relationship to the publishers. But, it’s still pretty in my mind.

Thanks for listening.

Happy spanks ❤

Korey Mae Johnson visits with some hot role play

I am so excited to have Korey Mae Johnson visiting today with the book I have awaited practically “forever”!  Her Master’s Hand. I read the first story, Her Master’s Claim (originally  titled, Otherwordly Discipline), several years ago, and could not wait for the sequel. Holy cow, what happened to Charlotte? Poor Ashcroft… Yummy Moriarty…  I fell in love with Korey Mae’s writing style and world building, and because of that story, I realized that what I truly want to write is paranormal and fantasy. Her world building is amazing! And her characters… well, let’s just say that I am still thinking about them three years later.  This is next on my Kindle. I can’t wait to read this one!  Here she is 🙂

*****

Something I like to play around with between the Moriarty and Alice relationship is to make it actually like a relationship between a spanko couple. For people who like spankings for more than just patty-cake, and in a relationship where you can’t bait your husband to spank you too much because even in a spanko relationship, that sort of thing grows frustrating and tiring, especially for the man, a lot of people turn to role-play.

And that’s not a cop-out. Roleplay can be just as hot– and even hotter!– than the real deal. In the first book of the series, Moriarty and Alice meet by playing a roleplay that leads to hot spankings and sex. I wanted to show that they still embrace that… and they can make it hot. Hot and gratifying. I only hope my readers agree and enjoy!

Sneak Peek: 

His cigar dropped right off his bottom lip when she eventually came out of the bathroom. Metamorphosis complete—only instead of looking gracious, sexy, and rich, she was dressed like a naughty schoolgirl, complete with too much mascara, white knee-highs, penny loafers, and pigtails.

His cock was so excited that it didn’t know what to do with itself! Actually, his dick knew what it wanted to do, but it was taking so much blood out of his brain that he stammered for a moment, didn’t come up with the right words, and she stood in the doorway as if she was gloating.

Suddenly he looked at her confident I’m-sexy-and-I know-it expression and his lip curled up at one end. If bed sport was an actual sport, then he was a goddamned gold medalist. He would not be conquered in the bedroom. He was the one who would be drawing the gasps out in this activity!

He glanced at himself in the mirror, decided that he was also quite sexy—of course, even a monkey would look good in a tuxedo—and stood up, drawing his shoulders back.

“Miss DeMornay,” he said, adjusting his tie, which was out of place, probably pushed by his own Adam’s apple during his swallow when he saw what he was about to be cock-deep into within the next half-hour. “I’m on the way to a fundraising event for the school, and you know I have absolutely no time at all to deal with your shenanigans,” he said, putting on his best exasperated authority-figure voice. He didn’t want to be accused of missing a single beat in this role-play.

She blushed down to her toes, seeming to know where this was going. Spanking, at the least. That had to have been what she had in mind with that naughty little ensemble! “Good,” she finally said with confidence, drawing her head up with proud defiance. “Then don’t. It was just a couple of cigarettes, anyway. Besides, it’s not like you don’t imbibe. You stink like cigar smoke.”

He took the cue, but not the bait. She liked the way he smelled after smoking a cigar, and they both knew it. But that was real life. This—this was even better.

“I am a full-grown man, and I only smoke once a month. What I do is none of your concern, anyway, Miss DeMornay. You are a pupil under my guardianship. What you do concerns me, and what concerns your health concerns me, and what you do to blatantly break the rules of the school concerns me. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“You’re in my business, but think yourself too high-and-mighty to actually do what you’re always telling us to, that’s clear.” She crossed her arms all-too-confidently across her chest, doing everything she could to give him fodder to enjoy the scene, but to give him plenty of reason for him to take her across his knee. He was, of course, the head master in this little play of theirs. “I’m only following your exemplary example.”

“Stop baiting me, Miss DeMornay,” he warned, but then gave her a smoldering look. “Or else I’ll start to think you like this.”

She blushed, but then rolled her eyes. “Like what?”

“Breaking the rules to get me to punish you constantly. At this point in time I might as well name my implement after you; it’s rarely used on anyone else. Tell me why?” He had put his body incredibly close to hers. She was forced to crane her head all the way up to look at him. Alice knew that this was a play, with lines, and she had the power to end the scene at any minute, yet he could still detect a small gulp. The sexual heat in the scene had suddenly increased tenfold and Alice must have felt that to, since her knees wobbled slightly, as the knees of girls who are exceptionally aroused are wont to do.

“I’m not breaking them on purpose,” she lied.

He raised one of his dark eyebrows theatrically, just to get her to squirm. “So you were caught smoking by accident, then?”

“Well, yes. I mean, no,” she said, looking confused for a moment. “I mean… I mean, I don’t want you to punish me at all.”

“Oh, so you just want me to make an exception for you, because you’re so important that the rules don’t apply?”

Her eyes narrowed. “No, I just—”

“You don’t think I’ll pull out the cane like I’ve done before?” He pinched her chin, which surely would have really been crossing a line if he actually was a headmaster of a finishing school, but good thing he wasn’t. Besides, they were about to cross a lot of lines if he had his say. “Now, you have to know me better than that by now.”


Blurb: 

For two decades, Maili has lived as the adopted daughter of the powerful demigod who saved her life and healed her broken body, but at last the time for her to wed has come. Yet the very thought of marrying the cruel warlord to whom her guardian has pledged her hand fills her heart with terror. She flees from her home in desperation, but her bid for freedom is foiled by an encounter with a decidedly grumpy yet undeniably enthralling wizard.

Twenty years have passed since that fateful day at the Hatchet Cliffs—years that have taken a far greater toll on Ashcroft than all the centuries before—and the once proud wizard has been reduced to hunting dangerous beasts to sell their magical venom like a wandering merchant. Thing go from bad to worse when he inadvertently captures a beautiful, feisty young witch who happens to be on the run from someone with whom even an immortal of Ashcroft’s power would rather not tangle.

Though he is determined to return her to her adoptive father and then take his leave of them both, something about Maili captivates Ashcroft, threatening to smash through the barriers he has carefully erected to reach the place in his heart that only one other woman has ever touched. But aside from the fact that so much as kissing Maili would incur the wrath of the most powerful being in this region of the world, can he bear to risk his heart being torn to pieces again?

Publisher’s Note: Her Master’s Hand is the sequel to Her Master’s Claim. It is an erotic romance novel which includes spankings, sexual scenes, anal play, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
Links:

Buy From Amazon

Buy From Barnes and Noble

Buy From AllRomance eBooks

Buy From Kobo

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!

🙂

 

 

Tell Me You’re Mine – Taming Princess Anna, Sue Lyndon

 

Taming Princess Anna cover art

I am so excited to have in my hot little hands, this new Sue Lyndon book!!
Unfortunately, I got home too late to start it tonight, so I will have to wait until tomorrow. But after reading this excerpt, I am definitely going to have to do a bit of rescheduling. This one is HOT!

🙂

Hi, everyone! A big thank you to Katherine for letting me visit her today! I have a new release out called Taming Princess Anna, a novella length fantasy romance with a medieval feel to it, and I’m here to talk a little about it and share a steamy excerpt.

When I’m writing a spanking romance story, of course I like writing the lead up to a spanking scene, as well as the actual spanking scene itself, but there’s a type of scene I enjoy writing (and reading) even more. Deflowerings! I love a good deflowering, with a nervous young heroine who has never even seen what’s between a man’s legs before, trembling and waiting to be taken, anticipating the pain but being pleasantly surprised by the pleasure that soon follows. Her embarrassment combined with her nervous anticipation always makes my pulse race, especially when she glimpses his manhood and stares wide-eyed, wondering how in the world that big thing will possibly fit inside her. I know it’s totally cliché, but I still love it.

 

Here’s an excerpt from Taming Princess Anna:

“I should spank you again for telling me a lie,” he said when he finally broke away and caught his breath.

She stared up at him, her chest heaving and her eyes wide.

“For what?”

“For claiming you’re not moist between your thighs. I can smell you, and it is intoxicating.” His words prompted her to renew her struggles and push against his chest, but he easily captured her wrists and held them captive in front of her in one hand. With his other hand, he reached beneath the layers of her dress and untied her drawers, letting them fall to her feet in a pool of fabric. “Now, let’s see just how wet you are. Spread your legs apart, Anna.”

Whimpers rose from her as she stood completely still, refusing to do as he asked. Bronson smacked the front of her thighs twice, until she finally obeyed and parted her legs for his examination.

“Good girl,” he said once she was spread to his liking. “Now hold this position while I see how wet you are.”

“Oh!” She jumped as his fingers glided along the lips of her slick mound, but she managed to keep her legs spread.

“Anna, your little cunny is soaking.” He slipped a finger inside her wet warmth, spreading her moisture around the insides of her lips and drawing it over her stiffened nub. Her whimpers turned to muted squeals, and he expertly circled her button while she leaned against the wall, no longer resisting his inspection. “I am going to take you here, Anna,” he said, moving a finger to her moist entrance and slipping inside her exquisite tightness.

“I . . . I . . .” Her words trailed off. She closed her eyes as her head fell to the side, and he took advantage to trail kisses up the hollow of her neck, all the while keeping a firm grip on her wrists.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me in bed, Anna, or should I tie you to the posts?”

Her moan, a moan of unadulterated pleasure, sent tingles racing up his thighs and tightened his groin. God, he wanted her. Not just her body either. All of her. He wanted to make her happy and see her eyes light up with love as she gazed at him. Yes, he wanted to press her down on the bed and have his way with her, but he also wanted her heart. Being in her presence calmed his soul. He felt like a weary traveler who’d been wandering for years but had finally arrived home. All the years he’d spent worrying about Anna faded as he kissed her and held her in his arms. She was so sweet, so responsive.

“I pr-promise I’ll be a good girl,” she finally said in between whimpers, moans, and kisses.

He urged her out of her drawers and pulled her dress over her head, tossing it to the floor as he looked her up and down, appreciating the snug, sheer chemise that revealed her curves and her peaked nipples. Bashfully, she peered up at him from under her eyelashes, her lips parted and her face flushed. As he guided her toward the bed, she halted and gave him a fearful look.

“Do not be afraid, Anna.” After a long, deep breath, she gazed at the bed, her face turning redder. “I-I don’t know what you expect of me, Bronson.”

“Relax, my sweet.” He cupped her face and kissed her again, taking his time as he explored her mouth and felt her melting into his body as he worked to rekindle her desire.

Once he’d kissed her thoroughly, he removed her chemise with a tug and stepped back to look up and down her shapely body. Her flesh was smooth and creamy white, though a spattering of freckles covered her shoulders. Her breasts were large and her dark pink nipples seemed to grow harder under his gaze. A slender waist and flat stomach tapered down to wide hips and curvy thighs. “You’re beautiful, Anna.” He gathered her close. “And you’re all mine. Say it. Tell me you’re all mine.”

Clamping her lips together, she shook her head and tried to back away. He frowned at her reluctance and knew she needed help surrendering to him. She’d softened each time he kissed her, and she’d let him touch her little cunny without fuss after he’d stroked her clit and given her pleasure. Taking pity on her nervousness, he cupped her center and ground the heel of his hand against her button until she moaned and grasped his shoulders for support. He stroked her, spreading moisture from her inner core all around her hardened nub but not quite touching it. Whimpers of frustration rose from her and she closed her eyes, gyrating her hips in an attempt to find the pleasure he was purposefully withholding.

“Tell me you’re all mine, Anna. Now.”

“I-I’m all y-yours, Bronson,” she gasped out between whimpers. Her face contorted as he finally pressed his thumb over her clit, drawing the moisture he’d gathered onto her pulsing button.

Perspiration beaded on her forehead and she let loose a deep moan, her hips moving steadily against his hand.

Bronson brought her to the peak of release but didn’t allow her to fall into it, instead jerking his hand away at the last moment as her moaning intensified. Her face crumbled and her eyes opened, and the urgent gleam in her gaze spoke of her desperate longing. Turning her around, he smacked her bottom twice.

“Get into the bed, Anna, and show me what a good girl you can be for your new husband.”

 

Blurb:

Princess Anna plans to flee the Kingdom of Iverson and start a new life across the sea, far from her cruel father and the unscrupulous cousin she’s supposed to marry. As her wedding date approaches, she escapes the castle dressed as a commoner, only to become trapped within the heavily guarded city walls. She watches the walls while biding her time on the streets, determined not to be found by her father’s soldiers. The man who captures her though is no soldier, and he doesn’t return her to the castle either. Bronson the Hunter finds the spoiled little princess easily enough, and his only concern is getting her outside the city walls before the rebellion against King Mendel is underway, a rebellion he’s played a crucial role in. The fighting starts as he whisks the unwilling princess across the island to Cimastown, where he orders her to renounce her nobility and marry a commoner—him. Princess Anna can’t believe Bronson the Hunter is the same servant boy she used to follow around the castle as a child. She also can’t believe that he’s grown into such a broad- shouldered, mountain of a man, or that he has no compunction about baring her bottom for a sound spanking when she gives him trouble, even on their wedding day. But just as she starts to find happiness with the firm handed husband who is determined to tame her, an old enemy of her father’s comes seeking revenge and threatens their new way of life.

Buy links:

Amazon

Amazon UK

Claimed by the Wolf – Hot Days Hotter Nights Blog Hop

Welcome to the Hot Days Hotter Nights Blog Hop! Steamy excerpts, great prizes, you have come to the right place!

One random commenter from my blog will also win a $5 gift certificate to Amazon. Please leave your email in a comment below. (e.g. katherinedeane40 at gmail dot com). 🙂

****

The following excerpt comes from a fun paranormal / fantasy I co-wrote with Renee Rose and Casey McKay, The Winter Storm: An Ever After Chronicle.

Don’t worry, even though it takes place during a blizzard, things have really heated up between Jillian and her new mate – wolf shifter, Bertram.

Enjoy!

*****

 

He had meant for this to be a punishment, but there was no way he could hold off any longer. The sight of her bare bottom contracting around the ginger, her legs slick with her juices, and the way she had rubbed her swollen pussy against the bed—he needed to be inside her. Now.

He stroked her soft skin and spanked one side, then the other, watching the pink build in her beautiful ass as she rocked back and forth. She kicked her legs and groaned, and he saw her beautiful pussy weeping, begging for release. He leaned forward and took a deep breath, imbibing the scent of her arousal. He flicked her swollen nub, and she cried out in ecstasy.

He threw her onto her back and watched her eyes dilate as he grabbed her wrists in his hands, pressing them into the mattress above her head. She shivered and swallowed hard, and the scent of her arousal increased.

“I want you, Jillian,” he growled.

“I—I want you too,” she stuttered in a combined state of arousal and something else. Fear?

“If I take you now, it’s going to be rough, hard. I need to mate with you, claim you as my own.” He paused to gauge her reaction, but her gaze never wavered.

She raised her head and looked him square in the eyes. “I’m yours to claim.”

“Forever? ‘Til death do us part?”

“How about happily ever after?” she beamed, and her eyes shone with love.

He growled and nuzzled her cheek. “Thank you. This part is going to satisfy my animal urges. I’m going to mark you and claim you as my own.”

“I understand,” she nodded.

“I promise, I won’t harm you.” He smelled her fear.

“Claim me, Wolfe,” she breathed as she pressed her groin up into his.

He growled and ripped her nightgown down the center, leaving her naked body prey to his. He unzipped his jeans, and his cock sprung free. His animal instincts took over, demanding to conquer and claim what was his.

His. Mate.

He barely kept control as he seized her hips and pulled her towards him. The wolf inside called to him, stronger than ever, to let go of everything except the need. His mate’s voice sung to him, begging him to conquer her in every way possible, and his blood boiled as his body shook with passionate rage.

He met her eyes and in one full stroke impaled her tight sheath. Her cries were as loud as his howls as he pumped in and out, knowing nothing other than his animal side. He yanked her head to the side, sank his fangs deep into her neck, and breathed in her essence. She sagged to the mattress as he licked her wound and fucked her, melding her soul with his. He roared as he came, pumping into her hard and fast, until he had nothing left and fell on top of her.

They were mated.

He withdrew his fangs and pressed his lips to the spot he had bitten. She shuddered and whimpered quietly as his senses slowly came back. He carefully withdrew from her and watched her wince.

“Sorry.” He kissed her red, tear-filled eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she nodded, still trying to catch her breath. “You were right.”

He felt a cold wave of dread come over him. She hated him, what he was, what he had done to her.

“I’m so sorry, Jillian.” He pulled his body off hers and tried to sit up, but she quickly pulled him back to her.

“Look at me,” she said with a power much like their time together in Stepmother’s play room. “I’m not angry. You warned me what it would be like. And yes, it hurt a lot.”

He winced.

But it didn’t harm me.” She looked deep into his eyes and pulled him down so she could kiss his forehead. “I’m okay.”

He felt something salty on his lips and felt the warm drops slide down his cheeks. “I can’t be something I’m not. Sometimes, I might need to…”

His head was yanked back suddenly by her firm grip in his hair. “I know that, Wolfe. And sometimes I’ll need to be spanked or punished. It doesn’t mean it won’t hurt sometimes. But I know in my heart you will never really harm me. Do you understand?”

He laughed and cried at the beauty of what she had said. His mate was perfect for him. “Yes, ma’am. I understand.”

She released his hair and kissed him hungrily, devouring his lips in hers. “Good. Now man up. And take me how I need to be taken.” Her eyes lowered and she winced. “A little gentler this time?” she whispered.

“I’ll be gentle, sweet girl.” He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly against his body. “I’ll be gentle.”

*****
Thanks for stopping by!

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The raffle copter for the prizes, is right below.

And the linky list for all the other bloggers is right below that.

Good luck! 🙂

******

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/1f1a4a0817/
Thanks to the Red Hot Author’s Café for putting together this awesome hop!

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