But, in case I do lose power, there is awesome news before power loss!
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Monday, October 29, 2012
So far, so good..
Frankenstorm has hit us with a lot of wind and a lot of rain, but so far we still retain power, for now. We're thinking that's going to end fairly soon so husband got us junk food provisions that we don't have to cook for the next couple of days. I sit snuggling with my kitten, an afghan, and munching on chocolate mini doughnuts as I type this post.
But, in case I do lose power, there is awesome news before power loss!
But, in case I do lose power, there is awesome news before power loss!
Frankenstorm: Revenge of the Snow
I may or may not be without power right now due to the epic storm that is supposed to hit thirty minutes away from me--the eye of the storm, that is. So if you don't hear from in the coming week after New Writer's Week has come to an end, that's why. I'll be back online eventually, if I don't get the shakes and start going crazy from lack of internet so they have to commit me.
But, I have over 8 books in a series I want to read. So...Frankenstorm good? Might force me away from work and back into fiction land. We'll see.
But, I have over 8 books in a series I want to read. So...Frankenstorm good? Might force me away from work and back into fiction land. We'll see.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Share Sunday: Furious Lust
Today I'm doing a fun little thing I like to call Share Sunday where I share something from my current work in progress or a book that is coming soon or already out. Depends on what my week looks like as to what you'll get from me. But right now, here's a tidbit from my soon to be submitted rough draft paranormal erotic BDSM novel, Furious Lust:
Though I was completely stripped of my powers as a demonness, on nights like this I wouldn’t turn away from my intuitive caution. And this wasn’t the first time I’d sensed this presence. No one had any specific reasons to keep me alive. At least none that they’d made plain to me—so as far as I knew, anyone could hunt me down, at any time, with one word from the council. How would I defend myself?
The whole situation set my teeth on edge. Pulses of pain jolted up my jaw as I attempted to regain control over my trembling fingers, fidgeting along the warm, steel bar. A man knocked against me from behind and I held my tongue. It took all my patience to not jump out of my skin. By now my fingers were numb from my grip and my toes curled against the tips of my shoes.
How could I have been drawn into coming undone? I—who prided myself on the steady speed and dexterous delights my hands could wield along a man—I have been reduced to a wary, thundering-hearted ninny. Before my punishment, my blazing anger knew no bounds. Now time had taught me caution, patience, and above all, fear.
A bodily impulse to hide, protect myself, born of self-preservation that I wouldn’t be able to leave behind until I was free of Earth. And perhaps, not even then. Tonight ignoring the sensation was worth a try. I wouldn’t let this awkward fear swallow me when my time was as fleeting as the Underworld council’s choices.
The dry crackle of the conductor called out the 14th street stop and I hastily exited the car knowing that my actual destination was several blocks away. A small walk would do me good. At least I wouldn’t be so smothered by people that I couldn’t think straight. It was too much to hope for to think that I’d left whoever had been watching me behind on the train.
No, life has not been easy and I’d grown weary of it.
I had dodged an imaginary foe for months. One of the topics I’d planned to bring up at my meeting, because the mental torment couldn’t be anything other than a new torture device devised by Hades. I was a pawn, nothing more. My skin pinched tight against my frame as if I couldn’t shake a chill. Even swathed in the muggy atmosphere of the underground station in mid-July—there was not enough heat to warm me.
For now, I no longer sensed the steady stare beating against my back. A small favor. But every clack of my high heels against the concrete echoed between my ears as if it were a gun shot. I couldn’t move quickly enough through the tiled, harsh yellow lit station. Not when tonight was a good night for mischief. No telling what was out there.
Though I was completely stripped of my powers as a demonness, on nights like this I wouldn’t turn away from my intuitive caution. And this wasn’t the first time I’d sensed this presence. No one had any specific reasons to keep me alive. At least none that they’d made plain to me—so as far as I knew, anyone could hunt me down, at any time, with one word from the council. How would I defend myself?
The whole situation set my teeth on edge. Pulses of pain jolted up my jaw as I attempted to regain control over my trembling fingers, fidgeting along the warm, steel bar. A man knocked against me from behind and I held my tongue. It took all my patience to not jump out of my skin. By now my fingers were numb from my grip and my toes curled against the tips of my shoes.
How could I have been drawn into coming undone? I—who prided myself on the steady speed and dexterous delights my hands could wield along a man—I have been reduced to a wary, thundering-hearted ninny. Before my punishment, my blazing anger knew no bounds. Now time had taught me caution, patience, and above all, fear.
A bodily impulse to hide, protect myself, born of self-preservation that I wouldn’t be able to leave behind until I was free of Earth. And perhaps, not even then. Tonight ignoring the sensation was worth a try. I wouldn’t let this awkward fear swallow me when my time was as fleeting as the Underworld council’s choices.
The dry crackle of the conductor called out the 14th street stop and I hastily exited the car knowing that my actual destination was several blocks away. A small walk would do me good. At least I wouldn’t be so smothered by people that I couldn’t think straight. It was too much to hope for to think that I’d left whoever had been watching me behind on the train.
No, life has not been easy and I’d grown weary of it.
I had dodged an imaginary foe for months. One of the topics I’d planned to bring up at my meeting, because the mental torment couldn’t be anything other than a new torture device devised by Hades. I was a pawn, nothing more. My skin pinched tight against my frame as if I couldn’t shake a chill. Even swathed in the muggy atmosphere of the underground station in mid-July—there was not enough heat to warm me.
For now, I no longer sensed the steady stare beating against my back. A small favor. But every clack of my high heels against the concrete echoed between my ears as if it were a gun shot. I couldn’t move quickly enough through the tiled, harsh yellow lit station. Not when tonight was a good night for mischief. No telling what was out there.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
New Writer's Week: Lily Harlem
Hi Elise,
Thanks so much for inviting me over to your blog today, I’m thrilled to be here. Since we’ve only just met I’ll start by telling you a little about myself.
I live in the UK with Mr Harlem and several pets, all rescued, and when I’m not writing I love to walk on the beach, enjoy fine food and wine and, of course, read. I haven’t always been an author. I’m a trained nurse and worked for several years in a busy London trauma unit. The adrenaline ran high, the shifts were grueling and there was always something exciting going on. I loved it, but was happy to slow down when Mr H had a job offer way out of the city. That was when I became gripped by writing.
I attended a local creative writing course, as a way to make friends as much as anything as I wasn’t nursing any more, and one day I stumbled across a competition. It wasn’t any old competition, it was a creative writing contest, but more than that it was for a sexy story ‘something to get us hot and bothered’ it said on the entry guidelines. I hadn’t written anything saucy before, though I had read plenty of erotic romance. I blushed the whole way through writing Madam President. Eventually, after checking for spelling mistakes so many times my vision had blurred, I hit send.
I didn’t think much more of it, so you can imagine my surprise when a few weeks later I got a phone call to tell me I’d won first place! I was delighted, thrilled. Love Honey (the contest organisers) said ‘where on earth did you get that idea from?’ ‘I don’t know,’ I replied, ‘I just thought who would be the most inappropriate couple to be having an affair and getting down and dirty at work?’ – the first female president of the USA and the British PM, in the Oval Office was what came to me. You can read the story for free on my website. It was a blast to write!
So that was how I became an erotic romance author, the genre found me! I then went on to have stories published in Best Women’s Erotica, Sex in the City and Orgasmic to name a few. Then I had longer stories contracted on both sides of the Atlantic with Ellora’s Cave and Total-E-Bound. That was when I really started writing, a lot, and realised that I’d found a new career.
The great thing about writing for me now is that I’m my own boss. Yes I have deadlines for edits and manuscripts, but I can take time off whenever I need to. Write during whichever part of the day suits me – sometimes I like to sit in my pyjama’s drinking tea in the morning, other times I prefer to wait to the end of the day, light the fire, sip a glass of wine and then let the story flow from my fingertips.
Often I write ménage a trois novels, in fact I blog twice monthly on When One Is Not Enough. I really enjoy the dynamics of three people in a relationship. It’s not just the bedroom scenes that are enormous fun to dream up, it is also the way in which a threesome works on an everyday basis, within the home and within society. My first full-length book at Ellora’s Cave was Shared. Shared is a M/F/M story set in Cardiff, Wales. The characters are all damaged, honest and very much need one another. I had lots of great reviews for this book and so decided to write the sequel, Shared Too. That novel took on more complex issue within the happy threesome. I posed the question of what happens when someone in the relationship wants a little bit more? Want to be shared, too. Reviews were mixed for this book, some people didn’t like the happy ever after being rocked, others had issues with another person coming into the relationship. But overall it went down well and it was something I had to write, because not only do people not always behave as they should, equally no marriage/relationship runs along on an even keel year after year. Every couple, or threesome, has rocky moments, problems they have to face, battles to fight, and I wanted to work through all of that in the ménage a trois situation.
My most recent release is also a ménage novel. Its called The Glass Knot and is available on Amazon.
Again I played around with what is normally expected in these books and used a happily married gay couple as the foundation for the story. A woman, Laura, is then introduced into the relationship by one of the men and… actually it is probably easier for you to read the blurb.
What’s a girl to do when the guy she falls for is married to another man?
This is exactly what happened to me. Seeing Josh Kendal stroll out of the Mediterranean Sea wearing tight navy swim trunks and looking like a hot new James Bond was a truly delicious moment. Catching sight of his wedding ring was like a kick in the shin and meeting his gorgeous husband, phew, that was enough to make any girl groan at the cruel joke God was playing on her.
But all was not as it seemed, and when Josh needed a woman to sort out a ‘delicate predicament’ I was the one for the job – heck, what did I have to lose? Certainly not as much as him, literally.
Trouble is, emotions always get tangled, loyalties can’t help but be divided and with a night of memories so hot they'd have the devil sweating, there was only one thing for it—it was time to get honest, fight for what I wanted despite society’s constraints and open my heart to the people it needed most.
I really enjoyed writing The Glass Knot, partly because I ended up with two heart-stoppingly gorgeous heroes, but also because again, I was tackling something that was a little out there, a bit different and I do love a challenge! Also I set the story, in the majority, in the beautiful Cotswolds, so whilst I was writing I really did feel like I was there amongst the rolling hills and the gorgeous sandstone cottages. I adore visiting this part of the UK and often Mr H and I book a bed and breakfast and go walking there. The cute country pubs are just lovely and there is such a nice relaxed pace of life.
So what am I up to now? Well I’m busy on edits for Teamwork (yep, another ménage) which is the 4th book in my Hot Ice series. Hot Ice is all about the sinfully bad, but deliciously good boys of the ice! These books are stand alone novels but if read in sequence the hero of the next book is introduced briefly in the previous one. They are seriously sexy, very romantic and the strong women who tame these athletes are my favourite sort of heroines.
Also I’m eagerly awaiting a release date for a co-author – written with the ever awesome Natalie Dae called Anything For Him. This is my first book with Mischief at Harper Collins and I’m very excited.
Next month sees my first illustrated story hit the shelves. It’s in an anthology called The 7 Deadly Sins, and will be published by Sweetmeat Press. The 7 Deadly Sins anthology came about very late at night over several bottles of wine in a hotel in Bristol, UK. I was with six other Brit authors, chatting about our day at Eroticon (a conference for writers and bloggers of erotica) and we had an idea to each take a deadly sin and write a story about it, compiling them all into an anthology – I got Envy, yay! – Sweetmeat Press then loved the idea and offered to illustrate the stories. I’m so looking forward to seeing my naughty tale come to life in a picture. It’s going to be off the scale hot!
I love to hear from readers and other authors. Feel free to follow me on Twitter, Pinterest, or befriend me on Facebook. Here are my links
Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/
Blog http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/
Twitter https://twitter.com/#!/lily_harlem
Facebook http://en-gb.facebook.com/people/Lily-Harlem/100003519563064
Facebook author page http://www.facebook.com/pages/Lily-Harlem-author-page/200182030094568
Pinterest http://pinterest.com/lilyharlem/
Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4070110.Lily_Harlem
And I will leave you with an excerpt from Scored which is a sexy soccer novel starring the captain of the England football team. This point in the book is when Nicki and Lewis have arranged a secret meeting in the Cathedral in Donetsk, prior to his match.
Blurb for Scored
Okay, so I eat, sleep and breathe football and reporting the beautiful game is my dream career. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have time for a major crush on the England captain, Lewis Tate. The bloke is sex on legs, hot with a capital H. Add in his awe-inspiring talent, his brooding good looks and what’s not to lust after?
So my excitement is sky-high as I set off with the official press team to cover England’s battle for the European Cup. But when a series of unfortunate, or as it turns out fortunate events, attracts Tate’s attention my way, who am I to say no?
Add in a misogynistic manager, an over-zealous colleague, two blue silk ties and some incredible ball-handling skills and it becomes clear the road to victory, for me, will be an intensely erotic journey. Determined to savor every moment, I hang onto my sanity as best I can while living the fantasy and wondering if it can ever become reality. Because once Lewis Tate has taken me to heaven and back, its clear no one else will ever compare.
Excerpt
“Oh, it is you,” I said on a sigh and sat down.
He removed his glasses. “Well if you had to get this close to realize then my crude attempt at disguise is obviously working.” His voice was low and hushed.
“I thought you might be a tramp or something, having a snooze.” I spoke equally quietly.
“I’m sure Gucci would love to know that about their new range of casual sportswear.” He smiled and his face softened. “How are you?”
“I’m good. You?”
“Not bad.” He glanced at the gap between us. “Better if you would sit closer.”
I slid my bum along the wood until my shoulder brushed his. He reached for my hand, held it, palm up, and traced a circle at the center.
Renewed longing sped through me as I was treated to a flashback of him holding my breast. How he’d touched me with just the right amount of pressure, tweaked my nipple with just the right degree of tension. How we’d been so rudely interrupted…
I tried and failed to suppress a small sigh.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. How did you get on with Fellows? Did he buy your story about you being in the bathroom?”
“Yeah, I think so, but he’s keeping a pretty tight rein on everyone at the moment. He’s a goddamn control freak.”
“He’s just doing his job.”
“That’s very understanding of you, considering.”
“Considering what? The way he spoke to me in the bar or the way he made you leave just when things were getting hot between us.”
He raised one brow. “Things were getting pretty hot, weren’t they? I left feeling like a man in the desert who’d just had his water bottle taken away.”
“I know what you mean.” I looked at his legs, his thick strong thighs resting over the seat of the pew, his jeans a little faded in all the right places. “When are you going to Kiev?”
“Later today. We’re flying up. You?”
“I’m catching the evening train. I’ve got some cheap place booked once I get there. Should be okay just for two nights. I’m there to see you thrash Sweden not wallow in luxury.”
“I wish I could get you into our hotel.”
I rested my other hand on his forearm, felt hard tendons and heat beneath the super-soft material of the hoody. “I think we were lucky to get what we had. I knew it wouldn’t take long for them to move you back into your suite.”
“It’s nice, the new room. Perhaps you’d like to see it when we get back to Donetsk.”
“And how would I be able to do that?” I couldn’t keep the incredulousness from my tone.
He paused for a second. Cocked his head. “You forget, Nicky, I am a man who gets what he wants.”
I swallowed tightly. The determination in his eyes, the way his jaw had set, sent a thrilling shiver of anticipation through me. “And you want…?”
He stroked the back of his index finger down my cheek then threaded his fingers into my hair and held the back of my head. “I want you, Nicky. Don’t you get that? I want you with me, next to me, in my bed, in my pool. I want to get to know everything about you.”
An emotion scarily like fear bubbled within me. This dream was just too perfect. I didn’t want it to pop. It would send me reeling, tumbling into oblivion. I wasn’t sure how I would pick up the pieces. Who would ever compare to Lewis Tate? Was I being crazy to listen to him speak this way? Making me feel like I was the only girl for him?
I had to know. The sooner it was out in the open the better. Because the longer I let him make me believe I was special the harder it would be when I realized I didn’t mean anything to him. “But why? Why would you want me when you can have anyone? There are a million women out there who would happily throw themselves at your feet”
He frowned. “But I don’t know them and I don’t care about them.”
“But how can you not?”
“Because you’re the first real woman I’ve met in a long time. You’re not pretending to be something you’re not and that appeals to me.” He leaned closer, his cologne infiltrating my nostrils and threatening to remove my ability to think straight. “A lot.”
“But I’m just Nicky Thomas, sports journalist. I come from Stoke and have a middle-class, unremarkable background. Why would someone as amazing as you, with all your footballing credentials, want me?”
He shook his head and appeared bemused. “What does football have to do with me admiring your professionalism, being comfortable with who you are and fighting for what you want?” He paused. “You do still like me, don’t you?”
I nodded. Unable to trust myself to speak and gush about just how much I liked him. How much I would like to cover him in whipped cream, sprinkles and chocolate drops and spend an entire day eating it off him.
“Good,” he said. “Because if you can just cope with this craziness for a little while longer, in few weeks the tournament will be over and we won’t have to sneak around.”
“You mean—”
He brushed his lips over mine. “Yes, honey, I mean this is just the start of something. Well, it is for me anyway. It’s been a long time since I’ve met anyone who’s been my last thought as I’ve gone to sleep and my first thought each morning.”
Oh, fuck. Now he’s got me.
I became a puddle of romantic ideals falling toward him. Didn’t he know what kind of effect sentiments like that had on a girl? I reached for his shoulders, pressed my body to his and allowed him to kiss me into a stupor of longing. He was my every thought too. When I wasn’t with him I was thinking about being with him and when I was with him I just couldn’t get close enough.
He tangled his fingers in my hair and held me firm as he kissed and explored my mouth. I let him in and melted under his touch. The way he was clasping me was so possessive, so masculine and dominant. Little thought kernels of what he could do to me, how he could make me feel, in bed, began to pop like candy in my belly. Imagine if he held me like this when he…
Oh, sweet Jesus. I was getting turned on again. Shit, and in a holy place.
Lewis groaned and sent kisses across my cheek, tugged my hair firmer so my head tipped, then licked and nipped at my neck. Lust shot to my pussy. It was like there was a wire from the skin on my neck to my clit and his attentions sent white-hot streaks of pleasure zapping down it.
“Lewis,” I murmured, trying to move my head but unable to. I discovered that far from feeling frustrated I reveled in the hold he had on me. That fact that I couldn’t move and he was doing what he wanted to my neck was a massive turn-on.
“Ah, honey, I could have fucking killed Fellows the other night. Walking away from you took every ounce of control I had.”
His breath was scalding hot against my flesh and I shivered with pleasure at his heated words.
“It was okay for you, though,” he went on.
“What do you mean?”
He released the grip on my head and brought my face level with his. “I think you know.”
I swallowed. I did know.
“You used it, didn’t you?”
“What?”
“Don’t act coy.” A slow smile spread on his face. “Because it makes me so horny to imagine you using your vibrator and thinking of me.”
I opened my mouth but no words came out.
He took full advantage and kissed me again. This time he slipped his hand up my top and cupped my breast over the new bra.
I pressed closer for more. Why did we have to be fully clothed and in a cathedral? Right now I would sell my soul to be naked in bed with him and no other person for a hundred miles around.
“I can just imagine you,” he said, tweaking my nipple through silk. “Lying on the bed, legs spread, that buzzing shaft penetrating your sweetness, getting you off, making you pant and sweat.” He paused. “Did you think of me?”
Fuck yes.
“Tell me,” he whispered, “Please, I want to know.”
“Yes. Yes I did.”
I felt his body tense and his shoulders hitched, like he was pulling in a deep breath. “And did you say my name?” He switched his attentions to the opposite breast.
“Yes, over and over.”
He fluttered his eyes shut and let out a long deep sigh. “Oh, fuck, that mental image of you is so hot,” he muttered.
“Lewis Tate,” I said in a scolding whisper. “You’re a bad boy picturing such things in a holy place.”
His eyes pinged open and his gaze trapped mine. For a split second I thought he might grin. He didn’t. “Tell me you’re not thinking them too.”
“Yes, I am, but—”
“But the difference is you’re not going to have zipper marks permanently imprinted on your genitals.” He shifted on the seat. “Fuck, you make me so hard.” He shook his head and muttered, “So hard it hurts.”
That knowledge thrilled me utterly. “Is that so?” I ran my hand down over his chest, his abdomen, then settled it on the solid wedge of flesh at his groin that was pushing and straining against the denim.
“That’s not helping.” He moaned. His face twisted and his eyes screwed up tight.
“I know what will, though.”
Fuck. Had I really just said that? Double fuck. Had I really just thought that? I had, and it seemed I was the biggest sinner of the lot because I didn’t care. I wanted to act on my impulse. In fact, I wasn’t sure anything could stop me. Not now the need, the desire, had flooded my brain like a tsunami.
I tugged at the button on his jeans, freeing it with a quick flick of my wrist.
“Nicky,” he said, parting his lips on a pant. “What are you doing?” He opened his eyes. They were dark and smoky, their normally crystal-clear depths clouded with lust.
“I’m going to help you out with that zipper problem.”
You can read the first chapter of Scored HERE and the first two chapters of The Glass Knot on my blog.
Thanks so much for having me, it’s been fun!
Lily x
Thanks so much for inviting me over to your blog today, I’m thrilled to be here. Since we’ve only just met I’ll start by telling you a little about myself.
I live in the UK with Mr Harlem and several pets, all rescued, and when I’m not writing I love to walk on the beach, enjoy fine food and wine and, of course, read. I haven’t always been an author. I’m a trained nurse and worked for several years in a busy London trauma unit. The adrenaline ran high, the shifts were grueling and there was always something exciting going on. I loved it, but was happy to slow down when Mr H had a job offer way out of the city. That was when I became gripped by writing.
I attended a local creative writing course, as a way to make friends as much as anything as I wasn’t nursing any more, and one day I stumbled across a competition. It wasn’t any old competition, it was a creative writing contest, but more than that it was for a sexy story ‘something to get us hot and bothered’ it said on the entry guidelines. I hadn’t written anything saucy before, though I had read plenty of erotic romance. I blushed the whole way through writing Madam President. Eventually, after checking for spelling mistakes so many times my vision had blurred, I hit send.
I didn’t think much more of it, so you can imagine my surprise when a few weeks later I got a phone call to tell me I’d won first place! I was delighted, thrilled. Love Honey (the contest organisers) said ‘where on earth did you get that idea from?’ ‘I don’t know,’ I replied, ‘I just thought who would be the most inappropriate couple to be having an affair and getting down and dirty at work?’ – the first female president of the USA and the British PM, in the Oval Office was what came to me. You can read the story for free on my website. It was a blast to write!
So that was how I became an erotic romance author, the genre found me! I then went on to have stories published in Best Women’s Erotica, Sex in the City and Orgasmic to name a few. Then I had longer stories contracted on both sides of the Atlantic with Ellora’s Cave and Total-E-Bound. That was when I really started writing, a lot, and realised that I’d found a new career.
The great thing about writing for me now is that I’m my own boss. Yes I have deadlines for edits and manuscripts, but I can take time off whenever I need to. Write during whichever part of the day suits me – sometimes I like to sit in my pyjama’s drinking tea in the morning, other times I prefer to wait to the end of the day, light the fire, sip a glass of wine and then let the story flow from my fingertips.
Often I write ménage a trois novels, in fact I blog twice monthly on When One Is Not Enough. I really enjoy the dynamics of three people in a relationship. It’s not just the bedroom scenes that are enormous fun to dream up, it is also the way in which a threesome works on an everyday basis, within the home and within society. My first full-length book at Ellora’s Cave was Shared. Shared is a M/F/M story set in Cardiff, Wales. The characters are all damaged, honest and very much need one another. I had lots of great reviews for this book and so decided to write the sequel, Shared Too. That novel took on more complex issue within the happy threesome. I posed the question of what happens when someone in the relationship wants a little bit more? Want to be shared, too. Reviews were mixed for this book, some people didn’t like the happy ever after being rocked, others had issues with another person coming into the relationship. But overall it went down well and it was something I had to write, because not only do people not always behave as they should, equally no marriage/relationship runs along on an even keel year after year. Every couple, or threesome, has rocky moments, problems they have to face, battles to fight, and I wanted to work through all of that in the ménage a trois situation.
My most recent release is also a ménage novel. Its called The Glass Knot and is available on Amazon.
Again I played around with what is normally expected in these books and used a happily married gay couple as the foundation for the story. A woman, Laura, is then introduced into the relationship by one of the men and… actually it is probably easier for you to read the blurb.
What’s a girl to do when the guy she falls for is married to another man?
This is exactly what happened to me. Seeing Josh Kendal stroll out of the Mediterranean Sea wearing tight navy swim trunks and looking like a hot new James Bond was a truly delicious moment. Catching sight of his wedding ring was like a kick in the shin and meeting his gorgeous husband, phew, that was enough to make any girl groan at the cruel joke God was playing on her.
But all was not as it seemed, and when Josh needed a woman to sort out a ‘delicate predicament’ I was the one for the job – heck, what did I have to lose? Certainly not as much as him, literally.
Trouble is, emotions always get tangled, loyalties can’t help but be divided and with a night of memories so hot they'd have the devil sweating, there was only one thing for it—it was time to get honest, fight for what I wanted despite society’s constraints and open my heart to the people it needed most.
I really enjoyed writing The Glass Knot, partly because I ended up with two heart-stoppingly gorgeous heroes, but also because again, I was tackling something that was a little out there, a bit different and I do love a challenge! Also I set the story, in the majority, in the beautiful Cotswolds, so whilst I was writing I really did feel like I was there amongst the rolling hills and the gorgeous sandstone cottages. I adore visiting this part of the UK and often Mr H and I book a bed and breakfast and go walking there. The cute country pubs are just lovely and there is such a nice relaxed pace of life.
So what am I up to now? Well I’m busy on edits for Teamwork (yep, another ménage) which is the 4th book in my Hot Ice series. Hot Ice is all about the sinfully bad, but deliciously good boys of the ice! These books are stand alone novels but if read in sequence the hero of the next book is introduced briefly in the previous one. They are seriously sexy, very romantic and the strong women who tame these athletes are my favourite sort of heroines.
Also I’m eagerly awaiting a release date for a co-author – written with the ever awesome Natalie Dae called Anything For Him. This is my first book with Mischief at Harper Collins and I’m very excited.
Next month sees my first illustrated story hit the shelves. It’s in an anthology called The 7 Deadly Sins, and will be published by Sweetmeat Press. The 7 Deadly Sins anthology came about very late at night over several bottles of wine in a hotel in Bristol, UK. I was with six other Brit authors, chatting about our day at Eroticon (a conference for writers and bloggers of erotica) and we had an idea to each take a deadly sin and write a story about it, compiling them all into an anthology – I got Envy, yay! – Sweetmeat Press then loved the idea and offered to illustrate the stories. I’m so looking forward to seeing my naughty tale come to life in a picture. It’s going to be off the scale hot!
I love to hear from readers and other authors. Feel free to follow me on Twitter, Pinterest, or befriend me on Facebook. Here are my links
Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/
Blog http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/
Twitter https://twitter.com/#!/lily_harlem
Facebook http://en-gb.facebook.com/people/Lily-Harlem/100003519563064
Facebook author page http://www.facebook.com/pages/Lily-Harlem-author-page/200182030094568
Pinterest http://pinterest.com/lilyharlem/
Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4070110.Lily_Harlem
And I will leave you with an excerpt from Scored which is a sexy soccer novel starring the captain of the England football team. This point in the book is when Nicki and Lewis have arranged a secret meeting in the Cathedral in Donetsk, prior to his match.
Blurb for Scored
Okay, so I eat, sleep and breathe football and reporting the beautiful game is my dream career. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have time for a major crush on the England captain, Lewis Tate. The bloke is sex on legs, hot with a capital H. Add in his awe-inspiring talent, his brooding good looks and what’s not to lust after?
So my excitement is sky-high as I set off with the official press team to cover England’s battle for the European Cup. But when a series of unfortunate, or as it turns out fortunate events, attracts Tate’s attention my way, who am I to say no?
Add in a misogynistic manager, an over-zealous colleague, two blue silk ties and some incredible ball-handling skills and it becomes clear the road to victory, for me, will be an intensely erotic journey. Determined to savor every moment, I hang onto my sanity as best I can while living the fantasy and wondering if it can ever become reality. Because once Lewis Tate has taken me to heaven and back, its clear no one else will ever compare.
Excerpt
“Oh, it is you,” I said on a sigh and sat down.
He removed his glasses. “Well if you had to get this close to realize then my crude attempt at disguise is obviously working.” His voice was low and hushed.
“I thought you might be a tramp or something, having a snooze.” I spoke equally quietly.
“I’m sure Gucci would love to know that about their new range of casual sportswear.” He smiled and his face softened. “How are you?”
“I’m good. You?”
“Not bad.” He glanced at the gap between us. “Better if you would sit closer.”
I slid my bum along the wood until my shoulder brushed his. He reached for my hand, held it, palm up, and traced a circle at the center.
Renewed longing sped through me as I was treated to a flashback of him holding my breast. How he’d touched me with just the right amount of pressure, tweaked my nipple with just the right degree of tension. How we’d been so rudely interrupted…
I tried and failed to suppress a small sigh.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. How did you get on with Fellows? Did he buy your story about you being in the bathroom?”
“Yeah, I think so, but he’s keeping a pretty tight rein on everyone at the moment. He’s a goddamn control freak.”
“He’s just doing his job.”
“That’s very understanding of you, considering.”
“Considering what? The way he spoke to me in the bar or the way he made you leave just when things were getting hot between us.”
He raised one brow. “Things were getting pretty hot, weren’t they? I left feeling like a man in the desert who’d just had his water bottle taken away.”
“I know what you mean.” I looked at his legs, his thick strong thighs resting over the seat of the pew, his jeans a little faded in all the right places. “When are you going to Kiev?”
“Later today. We’re flying up. You?”
“I’m catching the evening train. I’ve got some cheap place booked once I get there. Should be okay just for two nights. I’m there to see you thrash Sweden not wallow in luxury.”
“I wish I could get you into our hotel.”
I rested my other hand on his forearm, felt hard tendons and heat beneath the super-soft material of the hoody. “I think we were lucky to get what we had. I knew it wouldn’t take long for them to move you back into your suite.”
“It’s nice, the new room. Perhaps you’d like to see it when we get back to Donetsk.”
“And how would I be able to do that?” I couldn’t keep the incredulousness from my tone.
He paused for a second. Cocked his head. “You forget, Nicky, I am a man who gets what he wants.”
I swallowed tightly. The determination in his eyes, the way his jaw had set, sent a thrilling shiver of anticipation through me. “And you want…?”
He stroked the back of his index finger down my cheek then threaded his fingers into my hair and held the back of my head. “I want you, Nicky. Don’t you get that? I want you with me, next to me, in my bed, in my pool. I want to get to know everything about you.”
An emotion scarily like fear bubbled within me. This dream was just too perfect. I didn’t want it to pop. It would send me reeling, tumbling into oblivion. I wasn’t sure how I would pick up the pieces. Who would ever compare to Lewis Tate? Was I being crazy to listen to him speak this way? Making me feel like I was the only girl for him?
I had to know. The sooner it was out in the open the better. Because the longer I let him make me believe I was special the harder it would be when I realized I didn’t mean anything to him. “But why? Why would you want me when you can have anyone? There are a million women out there who would happily throw themselves at your feet”
He frowned. “But I don’t know them and I don’t care about them.”
“But how can you not?”
“Because you’re the first real woman I’ve met in a long time. You’re not pretending to be something you’re not and that appeals to me.” He leaned closer, his cologne infiltrating my nostrils and threatening to remove my ability to think straight. “A lot.”
“But I’m just Nicky Thomas, sports journalist. I come from Stoke and have a middle-class, unremarkable background. Why would someone as amazing as you, with all your footballing credentials, want me?”
He shook his head and appeared bemused. “What does football have to do with me admiring your professionalism, being comfortable with who you are and fighting for what you want?” He paused. “You do still like me, don’t you?”
I nodded. Unable to trust myself to speak and gush about just how much I liked him. How much I would like to cover him in whipped cream, sprinkles and chocolate drops and spend an entire day eating it off him.
“Good,” he said. “Because if you can just cope with this craziness for a little while longer, in few weeks the tournament will be over and we won’t have to sneak around.”
“You mean—”
He brushed his lips over mine. “Yes, honey, I mean this is just the start of something. Well, it is for me anyway. It’s been a long time since I’ve met anyone who’s been my last thought as I’ve gone to sleep and my first thought each morning.”
Oh, fuck. Now he’s got me.
I became a puddle of romantic ideals falling toward him. Didn’t he know what kind of effect sentiments like that had on a girl? I reached for his shoulders, pressed my body to his and allowed him to kiss me into a stupor of longing. He was my every thought too. When I wasn’t with him I was thinking about being with him and when I was with him I just couldn’t get close enough.
He tangled his fingers in my hair and held me firm as he kissed and explored my mouth. I let him in and melted under his touch. The way he was clasping me was so possessive, so masculine and dominant. Little thought kernels of what he could do to me, how he could make me feel, in bed, began to pop like candy in my belly. Imagine if he held me like this when he…
Oh, sweet Jesus. I was getting turned on again. Shit, and in a holy place.
Lewis groaned and sent kisses across my cheek, tugged my hair firmer so my head tipped, then licked and nipped at my neck. Lust shot to my pussy. It was like there was a wire from the skin on my neck to my clit and his attentions sent white-hot streaks of pleasure zapping down it.
“Lewis,” I murmured, trying to move my head but unable to. I discovered that far from feeling frustrated I reveled in the hold he had on me. That fact that I couldn’t move and he was doing what he wanted to my neck was a massive turn-on.
“Ah, honey, I could have fucking killed Fellows the other night. Walking away from you took every ounce of control I had.”
His breath was scalding hot against my flesh and I shivered with pleasure at his heated words.
“It was okay for you, though,” he went on.
“What do you mean?”
He released the grip on my head and brought my face level with his. “I think you know.”
I swallowed. I did know.
“You used it, didn’t you?”
“What?”
“Don’t act coy.” A slow smile spread on his face. “Because it makes me so horny to imagine you using your vibrator and thinking of me.”
I opened my mouth but no words came out.
He took full advantage and kissed me again. This time he slipped his hand up my top and cupped my breast over the new bra.
I pressed closer for more. Why did we have to be fully clothed and in a cathedral? Right now I would sell my soul to be naked in bed with him and no other person for a hundred miles around.
“I can just imagine you,” he said, tweaking my nipple through silk. “Lying on the bed, legs spread, that buzzing shaft penetrating your sweetness, getting you off, making you pant and sweat.” He paused. “Did you think of me?”
Fuck yes.
“Tell me,” he whispered, “Please, I want to know.”
“Yes. Yes I did.”
I felt his body tense and his shoulders hitched, like he was pulling in a deep breath. “And did you say my name?” He switched his attentions to the opposite breast.
“Yes, over and over.”
He fluttered his eyes shut and let out a long deep sigh. “Oh, fuck, that mental image of you is so hot,” he muttered.
“Lewis Tate,” I said in a scolding whisper. “You’re a bad boy picturing such things in a holy place.”
His eyes pinged open and his gaze trapped mine. For a split second I thought he might grin. He didn’t. “Tell me you’re not thinking them too.”
“Yes, I am, but—”
“But the difference is you’re not going to have zipper marks permanently imprinted on your genitals.” He shifted on the seat. “Fuck, you make me so hard.” He shook his head and muttered, “So hard it hurts.”
That knowledge thrilled me utterly. “Is that so?” I ran my hand down over his chest, his abdomen, then settled it on the solid wedge of flesh at his groin that was pushing and straining against the denim.
“That’s not helping.” He moaned. His face twisted and his eyes screwed up tight.
“I know what will, though.”
Fuck. Had I really just said that? Double fuck. Had I really just thought that? I had, and it seemed I was the biggest sinner of the lot because I didn’t care. I wanted to act on my impulse. In fact, I wasn’t sure anything could stop me. Not now the need, the desire, had flooded my brain like a tsunami.
I tugged at the button on his jeans, freeing it with a quick flick of my wrist.
“Nicky,” he said, parting his lips on a pant. “What are you doing?” He opened his eyes. They were dark and smoky, their normally crystal-clear depths clouded with lust.
“I’m going to help you out with that zipper problem.”
You can read the first chapter of Scored HERE and the first two chapters of The Glass Knot on my blog.
Thanks so much for having me, it’s been fun!
Lily x
Friday, October 26, 2012
New Writer's Week: Tilly Greene
The Dirty Details of Being a Writer
by Tilly Greene
Have you ever heard a writer complain about being tied to their desk for days without food or water? Or how they’re working so hard they’re living in their pj’s for weeks? What about making you cry for them upon hearing how terrible the deadlines they face are?
Well, here’s the truth: it’s all true and also all lies.
Don’t get me wrong, writing is rough. We fight through plot blocks and glittering diversions at the same time as trying to put out three meals a day, the laundry and cleaning. By the time we turn off the computer, we’re happy getting a few thousand words and positively ecstatic if it’s even more.
Okay, so it’s all a bit melodramatic, I’m sorry to go there and I promise, no more.
In all honesty, writing is very hard and yet rewarding and I am lucky to have it as my job. I look forward to going to work every day and not many people can say that with a straight face. There are so few jobs that allow a person to let their creative side free reign.
So how does the magic happen? How does someone get the book they’ve had spinning around in their head for years finally written down and ready to submit to a publisher? Oh, I think now is a good time to tell you that the writing is actually the easiest part of getting your book published, the hard stuff comes letter with the various rounds of self-editing before it ever hits the submission, editing and promoting stages.
Since I’ve burst your bubbles, are you ready for the good stuff, the biggest secret of all when it comes to publishing? I swear, no more holding back. I’m going to do the Oz thing, pull the curtain down and tell you the hidden secret is called BiC or Butt in Chair.
That’s right, absolutely nothing, NOTHING, gets done until you physically sit down, turn on the computer and start typing. If you need help stepping into the writer’s zone, then here are a few hints of how to get started.
· Pick a word and write five hundred words using it as the title, inspiration or plot.
· Set aside thirty minutes and write, without stopping, whatever comes to your mind.
· Choose a painting and write five hundred words writing what it depicts.
· Flick through a magazine, find a photograph and create a plot involving the people, then write the first sentence of their story.
· Watch a movie and write five hundred words involving one of the characters, but in a totally different genre than what they were in.
30 minutes, five hundred words, one sentence … I hear you: why the limits? Well, since we’re getting real here then I’ll tell you that the dirty side of writing is the existence of actual limits. There are chapter and book lengths, strict timelines to follow and often a third person stating what they want you to write.
Don’t go putting a crown on your manuscript yet, you need to roll up your sleeves and put in the hard labor before you get to the good stuff - your release day!
So, there you go, a few tools to get you writing. Now, unlock your imagination and write, write, write!
Tilly Greene
Scorching romances full of twists, turns and ties.
www.tillygreene.com
Blog│Facebook│Pinterest│Twitter
LEATHER BRIDE by Tilly Greene
Contemporary Erotic Romance + Fetish, Exhibitionism and Bondage
Coming soon from Ellora’s Cave
There are two things on Mimi’s mind—her lover Rick, and how he’s finally given in and bound her. Everything is wonderful until a mysterious trip calls him away.
Mimi tries to back out of walking the runway at the Safe, Sane and Consensually Wild fashion show, where she and her lover were set to model leather goods. She’s the muse behind the collection and the designer, her friend, won’t hear of her not modeling.
A misunderstanding threatens to tear them apart, but a fashion show could bring Mimi and Rick closer together.
by Tilly Greene
Have you ever heard a writer complain about being tied to their desk for days without food or water? Or how they’re working so hard they’re living in their pj’s for weeks? What about making you cry for them upon hearing how terrible the deadlines they face are?
Well, here’s the truth: it’s all true and also all lies.
Don’t get me wrong, writing is rough. We fight through plot blocks and glittering diversions at the same time as trying to put out three meals a day, the laundry and cleaning. By the time we turn off the computer, we’re happy getting a few thousand words and positively ecstatic if it’s even more.
Okay, so it’s all a bit melodramatic, I’m sorry to go there and I promise, no more.
In all honesty, writing is very hard and yet rewarding and I am lucky to have it as my job. I look forward to going to work every day and not many people can say that with a straight face. There are so few jobs that allow a person to let their creative side free reign.
So how does the magic happen? How does someone get the book they’ve had spinning around in their head for years finally written down and ready to submit to a publisher? Oh, I think now is a good time to tell you that the writing is actually the easiest part of getting your book published, the hard stuff comes letter with the various rounds of self-editing before it ever hits the submission, editing and promoting stages.
Since I’ve burst your bubbles, are you ready for the good stuff, the biggest secret of all when it comes to publishing? I swear, no more holding back. I’m going to do the Oz thing, pull the curtain down and tell you the hidden secret is called BiC or Butt in Chair.
That’s right, absolutely nothing, NOTHING, gets done until you physically sit down, turn on the computer and start typing. If you need help stepping into the writer’s zone, then here are a few hints of how to get started.
· Pick a word and write five hundred words using it as the title, inspiration or plot.
· Set aside thirty minutes and write, without stopping, whatever comes to your mind.
· Choose a painting and write five hundred words writing what it depicts.
· Flick through a magazine, find a photograph and create a plot involving the people, then write the first sentence of their story.
· Watch a movie and write five hundred words involving one of the characters, but in a totally different genre than what they were in.
30 minutes, five hundred words, one sentence … I hear you: why the limits? Well, since we’re getting real here then I’ll tell you that the dirty side of writing is the existence of actual limits. There are chapter and book lengths, strict timelines to follow and often a third person stating what they want you to write.
Don’t go putting a crown on your manuscript yet, you need to roll up your sleeves and put in the hard labor before you get to the good stuff - your release day!
So, there you go, a few tools to get you writing. Now, unlock your imagination and write, write, write!
Tilly Greene
Scorching romances full of twists, turns and ties.
www.tillygreene.com
Blog│Facebook│Pinterest│Twitter
LEATHER BRIDE by Tilly Greene
Contemporary Erotic Romance + Fetish, Exhibitionism and Bondage
Coming soon from Ellora’s Cave
There are two things on Mimi’s mind—her lover Rick, and how he’s finally given in and bound her. Everything is wonderful until a mysterious trip calls him away.
Mimi tries to back out of walking the runway at the Safe, Sane and Consensually Wild fashion show, where she and her lover were set to model leather goods. She’s the muse behind the collection and the designer, her friend, won’t hear of her not modeling.
A misunderstanding threatens to tear them apart, but a fashion show could bring Mimi and Rick closer together.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
New Writer's Week: Alanna Coca
Thanks
for having me for New Writer's Week! Although I don't consider myself
"new" I'm far from "old". My first book was published in
December of 2008. That book had been dragged from notebook to Mac, then from
floppy disk to a PC. It quite literally took me decades to write Wyoming
Solace, though in my defense, there were several years where I didn't write a
word.
I wrote chapter one, then wrote the ending. I went
back and wrote chapter two, then tweaked some of the ending. I bounced around
so much on that book, I'm surprised it came together at all, but the story was
in my head, and it just had to be told. Even while I focused on my day job and
my son—as a single mother I didn't have a whole lot of spare time in those
early days—I had this story bursting to be written.
One day in late 2006 or so, I found these floppy
discs. Luckily I had an old enough computer to actually read the discs (no old
lady jokes now). I read through the hodge-podge, with missing chapters and I'd
changed the hero's name from Jareth (as a teen I simply
loved Labyrinth) to Jared to be more historically accurate. I named my heroine
Elise (Nice name, right?) I changed Elise's companion from Molly to Daniel,
which spurred several other changes throughout the story. But
there was enough there to make me think that I could actually finish this book.
At that point I had no idea what I'd do once I did, but as I sat down and typed
out the rest, I realized how much fun it was. Simply putting the story that sat
in my brain for so long into words was a very liberating experience!
When I finally connected all the pieces, I
immediately printed it out and filed the manuscript away for a month or so.
Finally I got the nerve to query agents and Harlequin. I wasn't quite sure what
to expect, other than a "no thank you", there was the slim chance
that someone somewhere would see potential. It took almost four months for all
of my rejections to trickle in. I got online one day to find the contact
information for other romance agents and publishers.
That's when I discovered the wonderful world of epublishing. Now, remember back in 2007 the Kindle was a
glimmer in Bezos' eye. I had yet to even read an ebook.
I sent Wyoming Solace to Liquid Silver Books, and was shocked and amazed when
the Acquisitions Director asked me for the full manuscript. A few weeks later,
they offered me a contract. I remember staring at my email with a huge smile on
my face, and I might have screamed just a little bit.
Of
course I accepted. I was thrust into the world of edits, where my poor editor
had to break me of things like my overabundant adjective usage, head hopping,
passive voice, and my apparent love for ellipses…though I still love those
things. I learned quickly that I needed a website, I wrote my very first blog
post, adopted my pen name Olivia Brynn for my spicier stories, and opened my eyes to the
huge and wonderful world of publishing. Wyoming Solace released
December 15th 2008. I immediately began several other stories. In August of
this year, I re-released Wyoming Solace, and so now it's my first book and my
latest release. I've posted the first chapter on my website if you'd like to
check it out.
Five years ago, I would have sworn that the only
path to a happy author included an agent and a big New York publisher. Now? I've stopped shopping for agents. In my opinion the
publishing industry has shifted away from the need for representation (though a
contract lawyer would be helpful). I no longer think of print publishing as the
be-all-end-all. I've got my fingers in several pots, including self-publishing
my backlist, and I'm very happy where I am.
Alanna Coca
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
New Writer's Week: Crymson Hart
Vampires, Bigfoot, and a Coffin Named Jerry
Yeah I know what you’re thinking, why would a coffin be named Jerry? That is the easy question to answer. Jerry, is the six foot coffin that my husband and a friend of his built a couple of Halloweens ago. Jerry resides in my dining room filled with Living Dead Dolls, which are dolls that come in their own coffins. Since my husband was about to build me shelves to house my collection, we ended up sticking them in Jerry and now they have a good home. Yeah I know, it’s odd to have a coffin in my dining room, but it really does make a great conversation piece. Then there’s Bob, the six foot animatronic Halloween butler, we have behind our television set in the living room. He really gets people going when they cover over, but he never does a good job at cleaning.
My friends have always asked me why I don’t decorate for Halloween because I love it so much, considering my coffin and the butler. Don’t need to since my house is decorate all year round for Halloween that and we don’t get a lot of kids who come looking for candy in my neighborhood and we’re not on a main street. If we were, then I would have an elaborate setup, graveyards and ghosts, vampires that pop out of the bushes and Bigfoot trying to find his alien…oops sorry already did that.
So getting to Bigfoot. Haven’t you ever wondered if Bigfoot gets lonely as he lumbers through the woods? So what happens when he sees a spaceship crash land to Earth? It was actually a conversation I had last Halloween with some other author friends of mine that got me to the idea of how would you write a Bigfoot romance with an alien? That was when Hairy & Hung was born. Personally I could believe in Bigfoot and aliens…well I don’t like to think of little green or grey men taking me hostage and probing me all night long. So I think about vampires instead and how well Jerry would love to have a vampire living inside of his wooden paneling. It make a great addition to my already Halloweenesque house.
So enjoy your Halloween and maybe go as Bigfoot and his alien!
BLURB:
When Phillip went to investigate the space ship he saw crash, he wasn’t planning on discovering an unconscious green woman. All he was trying to do was mess with the Bigfoot hunters who were after him. But seeing his outer space beauty, he knows that she can’t be captured or she'll end up on the military’s dissection table.
Alika never planned on crashing to Earth. Upon waking she discovers a large, hairy beast, with intelligent eyes who wishes to help her. Once they figure out how to communicate their goals are united. Get her off the planet before the military finds her.
Although Phillip wants to help Alika, he finds himself caring for her. Can she reciprocate his feelings? What happens when she leaves? As the army draws nearer, Phillip will do anything for his green skinned alien even if it means giving up everything.
Excerpt:
She got up from the bed and crossed the cave to stand before him. He was over seven feet tall, and her head came to the center of his torso. She realized that he could do her real damage. His hand could encompass her head. Those nails could shred skin through to the muscle if they wanted. And yet, Alika knew that he would never hurt her. She placed a hand on his chest, feeling the coarse fur of his pelt. Phillip was remarkably clean, with no insects in his hair or clumps of dirt. She did admire that. I guess I was wrong about him eating some parasite before. He jumped at her touch. Alika slid her fingers over the hardness of his abdomen, touching the man underneath.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She gazed into his deep brown eyes and smiled. “Are you functional?”
Confusion lit his thoughts. “What do you mean?”
Alika slid her hand lower over his stomach to his groin, and she felt the semierect shaft and his balls hidden behind a deeper patch of fur. She was happy to discover that his shaft was hairless. She had been mounted by creatures with hairy pricks in the past. It was very uncomfortable with the hair jabbing her in all the wrong places when all she wanted was a pleasant experience. Alika stroked his cock a few times until she felt it firm up. Her smile widened before she looked him in the eye. “You are functional.”
A blast of fury seared her mind, and Phillip pulled away from her. “I am functional, as you say, but you don’t have the right to touch me so.”
She shook her head, not understanding why he was fighting her. “You have been alone for so long. Your mate has gone on. Surely you must yearn for companionship. Let me give that to you while I’m here. To show my appreciation for you saving me.” “I won’t have you pitying me. Why would you desire me in this form?”
“There is no pity,” she said, stripping off the fabric around her and standing before him naked. Alika ran her fingers over her breasts and pinched her nipples until they were pert. From his thoughts, she knew that he was attracted to her. From the reaction of his dick pointing at her, she knew that he desired her. She swayed her hips and banished the distance between them, pressing her body against his. His thick pelt scratched her in a good way and made her warm in the chilly cave. She slid her hand over his length again, took one of his hands, and placed it on her breast. “I find you pleasing in both forms. I enjoy big, strong men. So do many women on my planet. Goddess Dirvan knows that there aren’t enough to go around. You would do quite well there, have many women waiting to pleasure you. We are a population where only one male child is born in ten thousand. Come now, Phillip. Let me do this for you.” She stood up on tiptoe and pushed her lips into his.
Hairy & Hung is out with Purple Sword Publications.
Buy link
Check out Crymsyn Hart @ www.ravynhart.com
Twitter: @crymsynhart
Blog: www.crymsynhart.blogspot.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/crymsynhart
BIO: Crymsyn Hart's worlds are filled with luscious vampires, gorgeous gods, quirky witches, and everything else that goes bump in the night. Hell, there is even a delicious cheesecake god floating around, but if I were you I wouldn’t eat his brownie cheesecake.
Crymsyn worked as a psychic for many years in Boston while attending Emerson College. She graduated with a BFA in Writing, Literature, & Publishing. Crymsyn shares her life with a small zoo, two playful puppies and her hubby Mark. If you come after dark, you’re more than likely to find her snuggled up with a gory horror movie, or a bloody vampire movie. Crymsyn has a collection of Living Dead Dolls and five bookshelves overflowing with books. Of course there's always room for more.
Yeah I know what you’re thinking, why would a coffin be named Jerry? That is the easy question to answer. Jerry, is the six foot coffin that my husband and a friend of his built a couple of Halloweens ago. Jerry resides in my dining room filled with Living Dead Dolls, which are dolls that come in their own coffins. Since my husband was about to build me shelves to house my collection, we ended up sticking them in Jerry and now they have a good home. Yeah I know, it’s odd to have a coffin in my dining room, but it really does make a great conversation piece. Then there’s Bob, the six foot animatronic Halloween butler, we have behind our television set in the living room. He really gets people going when they cover over, but he never does a good job at cleaning.
My friends have always asked me why I don’t decorate for Halloween because I love it so much, considering my coffin and the butler. Don’t need to since my house is decorate all year round for Halloween that and we don’t get a lot of kids who come looking for candy in my neighborhood and we’re not on a main street. If we were, then I would have an elaborate setup, graveyards and ghosts, vampires that pop out of the bushes and Bigfoot trying to find his alien…oops sorry already did that.
So getting to Bigfoot. Haven’t you ever wondered if Bigfoot gets lonely as he lumbers through the woods? So what happens when he sees a spaceship crash land to Earth? It was actually a conversation I had last Halloween with some other author friends of mine that got me to the idea of how would you write a Bigfoot romance with an alien? That was when Hairy & Hung was born. Personally I could believe in Bigfoot and aliens…well I don’t like to think of little green or grey men taking me hostage and probing me all night long. So I think about vampires instead and how well Jerry would love to have a vampire living inside of his wooden paneling. It make a great addition to my already Halloweenesque house.
So enjoy your Halloween and maybe go as Bigfoot and his alien!
BLURB:
When Phillip went to investigate the space ship he saw crash, he wasn’t planning on discovering an unconscious green woman. All he was trying to do was mess with the Bigfoot hunters who were after him. But seeing his outer space beauty, he knows that she can’t be captured or she'll end up on the military’s dissection table.
Alika never planned on crashing to Earth. Upon waking she discovers a large, hairy beast, with intelligent eyes who wishes to help her. Once they figure out how to communicate their goals are united. Get her off the planet before the military finds her.
Although Phillip wants to help Alika, he finds himself caring for her. Can she reciprocate his feelings? What happens when she leaves? As the army draws nearer, Phillip will do anything for his green skinned alien even if it means giving up everything.
Excerpt:
She got up from the bed and crossed the cave to stand before him. He was over seven feet tall, and her head came to the center of his torso. She realized that he could do her real damage. His hand could encompass her head. Those nails could shred skin through to the muscle if they wanted. And yet, Alika knew that he would never hurt her. She placed a hand on his chest, feeling the coarse fur of his pelt. Phillip was remarkably clean, with no insects in his hair or clumps of dirt. She did admire that. I guess I was wrong about him eating some parasite before. He jumped at her touch. Alika slid her fingers over the hardness of his abdomen, touching the man underneath.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She gazed into his deep brown eyes and smiled. “Are you functional?”
Confusion lit his thoughts. “What do you mean?”
Alika slid her hand lower over his stomach to his groin, and she felt the semierect shaft and his balls hidden behind a deeper patch of fur. She was happy to discover that his shaft was hairless. She had been mounted by creatures with hairy pricks in the past. It was very uncomfortable with the hair jabbing her in all the wrong places when all she wanted was a pleasant experience. Alika stroked his cock a few times until she felt it firm up. Her smile widened before she looked him in the eye. “You are functional.”
A blast of fury seared her mind, and Phillip pulled away from her. “I am functional, as you say, but you don’t have the right to touch me so.”
She shook her head, not understanding why he was fighting her. “You have been alone for so long. Your mate has gone on. Surely you must yearn for companionship. Let me give that to you while I’m here. To show my appreciation for you saving me.” “I won’t have you pitying me. Why would you desire me in this form?”
“There is no pity,” she said, stripping off the fabric around her and standing before him naked. Alika ran her fingers over her breasts and pinched her nipples until they were pert. From his thoughts, she knew that he was attracted to her. From the reaction of his dick pointing at her, she knew that he desired her. She swayed her hips and banished the distance between them, pressing her body against his. His thick pelt scratched her in a good way and made her warm in the chilly cave. She slid her hand over his length again, took one of his hands, and placed it on her breast. “I find you pleasing in both forms. I enjoy big, strong men. So do many women on my planet. Goddess Dirvan knows that there aren’t enough to go around. You would do quite well there, have many women waiting to pleasure you. We are a population where only one male child is born in ten thousand. Come now, Phillip. Let me do this for you.” She stood up on tiptoe and pushed her lips into his.
Hairy & Hung is out with Purple Sword Publications.
Buy link
Check out Crymsyn Hart @ www.ravynhart.com
Twitter: @crymsynhart
Blog: www.crymsynhart.blogspot.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/crymsynhart
BIO: Crymsyn Hart's worlds are filled with luscious vampires, gorgeous gods, quirky witches, and everything else that goes bump in the night. Hell, there is even a delicious cheesecake god floating around, but if I were you I wouldn’t eat his brownie cheesecake.
Crymsyn worked as a psychic for many years in Boston while attending Emerson College. She graduated with a BFA in Writing, Literature, & Publishing. Crymsyn shares her life with a small zoo, two playful puppies and her hubby Mark. If you come after dark, you’re more than likely to find her snuggled up with a gory horror movie, or a bloody vampire movie. Crymsyn has a collection of Living Dead Dolls and five bookshelves overflowing with books. Of course there's always room for more.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
New Writer's Week: Kay Jaybee
Sometimes I have to pinch myself. There are genuinely days when I can’t believe that I have this amazing life. Somehow I have gone from being an archaeologist, via being a wife and mother, to an erotica writer, and I’m still not sure how it happened!
There are was sat in a coffee shop one day seven years ago, daydreaming out of the window, when an idea for a truly dirty story came into my mind from absolutely nowhere! I felt a compulsion to write it down- which I did, on a napkin- and, after a great deal of indecision, I wrote it up properly and sent it off to Cleis Press to see if they’d publish it- and they did!!
That first story was called Jen and Tim, and was one of the stories Violet Blue featured in her Lips Like Sugar collection back in 2005.
(Blogger's note: Lips Like Sugar edited by Violet Blue has just been re-released with a brand spanking hot new cover and the same scintillating contents!)
That was just over seven years ago, and I’m still in shock that things have gone so well. Since those early days I’ve gone on to have three novels (The Perfect Submissive and The Voyeur for Xcite, and Making Him Wait for Sweetmeats Press), three novellas, including the Amazon bestseller, A Sticky Situation (Xcite), and several solo anthologies (such as Quick Kink One and Two, and Yes Ma’am, Xcite) published.
My very first solo book, The Collector, published back in 2008, will always have a special place in my heart. Having a short story or poem in a joint anthology is an incredible feeling, but to see your very first solo piece- to hold your very own book in your hands- there is no feeling in the world like it!
I am delighted to say that this month, The Collector is to be re-released! With a modern new cover and a beautifully fresh look!
The Collector sits silently alone, engrossed in her tales of lust, submission and dominance. Has she already engraved your erotic exploits on her salacious list?
She may look like she is scribbling randomly in her notebook, but she is secretly listening to, and recording, the overheard fantasies and indiscretions of others.
Forever hungry for stories, when The Collector's sources run dry, her appetite for tales of instruction and voyeurism drives her to do some research of her own before sharing her provocative experiments on paper.
It is time for the world’s raunchiest chronicler to come to light.
The 21 stories included in this book have been compiled by an anonymous central narrator referred to as the Collector, who either acquires the tales from a willing third party (Cupboard Lust), or overhears information and fills in the blanks herself (Learning). Not a call girl or a sex club queen, she sits in coffee shops by day, gaining a strange pleasure from writing up her salacious literature in public. Traveling on public transport as much as possible, listening to conversations in restaurants, pubs and cafes, she keeps her eyes and ears open for potential material. When sources run dry the Collector takes matters into her own hands, engineering situations worth writing about by doing some direct research (Treasure).
Occasionally she visits the select clubs and private houses of the Home Counties, which guarantee to provide the type of material required to retell the most erotic of adventures (Tequila). Divided into chapters, the stories vary in length from 250 words to c.4000 words. Each tale is pulled together with a short narrative, which offers a brief history to the piece, without frustrating the reader intent on the stories themselves. From New Territory, which provides information about both our narrator and her writing, to Alone, The Collector takes the reader through every gambit of the sexual experience. Lust, submission, dominance, instruction, voyeurism and masturbation, are all observed within the genres of heterosexual, lesbian, and solo sex.
Here’s a mini-excerpt from the first story, New Territory, just to whet your appetite...
It hadn’t seemed significant when he’d noticed which page she’d left the colour supplement open at. Perhaps it wasn’t; coincidences happened all the time. No. He saw now that it was no accident; she had been trying to tell him something.
She was sat at the corner table at the very back of the coffee shop. The armchairs were rather comfortable in that area; he always tried to sit there. As he worked his way along the queue, collecting an almond danish and ordering a frighteningly large black coffee, he watched her. Sitting slightly upright, she was partially obscured by a copy of The Observer, her long booted legs curled under the armchair, her red hair framing her small face. She was sipping a cappuccino. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched her develop a foam moustache, and quite uncaring, lick it off with her tongue. He looked away and concentrated on his tray as he pushed towards the till. It was disconcerting to find himself aroused by such a simple act.
He paid, collected his sugar and turned to find a seat. He could have sat anywhere, but she already felt like an itch needing a scratch. He had to talk to her. So what if she told him to
piss off; he was only going to ask if he could share the table.
He asked and she inclined her head, not glancing up for more than a second; so he sat. This was new territory for him; he’d never felt such a need to say something, anything. He was the good looking one, the one who never had to say anything. They came to him. Now the silence seemed to be an oppressive presence in itself, like a whole extra person in the room who wasn’t saying anything.
This was ridiculous. He picked up his own paper, folded it to the business pages and took a bite of his pastry, trying not to mind that icing sugar was dusting his new black jacket.
She’d finished her drink. He flirted with the idea of offering to buy her a new one, but quickly dismissed it. He hadn’t even said hello to her. So why did he feel that time was running out? Why did he feel a strange sensation of panic that she was going to leave before he’d heard her voice?
As she unfolded her legs and tided her paper, she picked up her large brown rucksack, pulled out some keys and stood in front of him. He looked up into her face. He was being assessed. It was a strange sensation; he usually did the assessing.
‘Are you coming then?’ She spoke very softly, her green eyes shining with a sort of inner power.
He was about to ask if she was sure, but she’d already turned around and was heading for the door.
He was well aware of the fact that he was probably about to make a total fool of himself, but he followed anyway. She walked very quickly; striding along in impossibly high heels. It hadn’t occurred to him until that point that she might be a hooker. What if she was? He’d just walk away. Maybe?
He followed as she turned down a gap between two shops.
There was a flight of black iron stairs that led up to a flat above one of them. She stopped. ‘Two things,’ she undid her leather jacket as she spoke, hitching her scarf open to reveal a delicate neck completely unadorned by jewellery. ‘One; I do not do this for money, and two; I am not inviting you in for coffee.’
He nodded, undid his own coat, and followed her up the steps. The hall was very narrow. It led to a modest kitchen diner, where she placed her paper, spread open, on the table. Sorting out the magazine, she opened it up as if she was going to settle down to read, but then didn’t.
He hadn’t got as far as making small talk. In fact he hadn’t even got as far as attempting to make small talk, when she took him by the hand and led him into the small living room, sitting him down on the small maroon sofa. She knelt and, placing a restraining hand on his leg, undid his shoes and placed them neatly to one side. Then she did the same with his socks.
That was when his body stopped making his hands clammy and his heart beat faster, and sent all excess blood directly to his dick. He’d known he’d been half way to a hard-on already, but now there was no disguising the fact...
Thank you ever so much for inviting me to visit you today, Elise.
If you’d like to find out more about The Collector, or any of my other stories, then why not pop over to my website www.kayjaybee.me.uk
Other ways to find Kay:
Goodreads
Monday, October 22, 2012
New Writer's Week: Lydia Micheals
A True Cinderella Story
Romance Author Lydia
Michaels
I began writing not to get
rich, but because I felt driven to put words on a page. I had a nagging sense of obligation, a
compulsion to write my story, that only grew more and more difficult to ignore
as time went on. So on
December 7, 2007 I put my two-year-old daughter to bed, sat down at my
computer, and began to type. By
the next morning I had pounded out fifty pages.
I became obsessed with
writing. I finished my
first manuscript in less than one month on about three hours of sleep a
night. I was so proud of my
work that I rushed out and had five copies printed and bound. I then dropped a copy off with each of
my closest friends. Of course the pages were littered with typos, but the
plot was there and the reviews I received were very good.
I spent months polishing and
revising my manuscript, putting well over 40 hours a week into my craft. The funny thing about revisions is
that each time you edit a story you arrogantly assume it is as perfect as it
can get, but then you read it again and become disgusted with how much it can
actually be improved. I
realized my book was like a house; it would never be completely
finished. Publishing my book would be the only way to stop my obsessive
refinement. So I edited my
manuscript one more time and sent it out to fifteen agents and ten publishers.
I waited a grueling six months
for all of my replies and with each rejection a small piece of me died a
little. Rejection is
difficult no matter who you are. When
you put your heart and soul into something, only to be so universally
discarded, it can be crushing. Being
an author is a very personal experience. No one will ever love your manuscripts
as much as you do, at least not when you are a new author without any
fans. In the beginning I
cried a lot, but I always brushed myself off and tried again.
After I read my first
manuscript so many times even the sight of it made me sick, I decided I needed
to take a different approach, so I wrote something new. My theory was: the more manuscripts I
could submit the more probable it was for my work to get published. I wrote my next novel, a ninety
thousand-word romance, in ten days. It was a sweet, warm and fuzzy story
about a young mother. I
submitted that manuscript to fifteen publishers over the span of two
years. Some took an
interest and asked for more, but in the end I received fifteen more
rejections.
There is a lot of time spent
waiting when you are a new author. Typically the wait period on a submission
is three months. If the
publisher is interested he or she may ask you to send some sample
chapters. After a few more
months they may request the entire manuscript. It then takes another length of time
for them to read and reply. All
in all it can take anywhere between six months to a year to hear back from just
one company and it’s devastating when all you hear is bad news. Rather than spend this time pining
away, waiting for replies, I spent it writing. In those two years my work became
better, more polished. My
characters became more developed and my plots more intricate. My typos dropped from 1,000 to
200. That may still seem
like a lot, but on a first draft of a manuscript over 120,000 words I assure
you it’s not.
For three years I had blown out
my birthday candles with one wish on my mind. Please let me be published. The week of my thirtieth birthday
I received my thirtieth rejection. I
felt like an absolute fool. I spent six months thinking about other career
choices. After finally admitting
to myself that there was nothing else I would rather do than write, I gave
myself a six-month extension. You
see my two year old was now a five year old and entering kindergarten. It seemed silly for me to work from
home when all of my hard work amounted to nothing, but there was still a small
part of me that could not give up. I
spent the summer before my daughter started school reevaluating all of my
rejections. What did the
publishers like? What did
they criticize? If I found
a weakness in my writing I studied ways to overcome it. I then brainstormed. What did publishers want to
publish? Once I had my
ideas in order I began to write what would either be my first published book or
my last submission.
In June I had written 75,000
words, the first half of what would be my next manuscript. I gave a copy to one of my friends in
my book club and two days later she called to yell at me. How could I leave her hanging like
that? I had better start
typing as soon as I got home! She
loved it! She told me there
was just something different about this story. Perhaps it was desperation, lol. Her
optimism fueled my energy to try harder. I completed the first draft by
September and submitted it.
Mid-September, my thirty-first
birthday, as I blew out the candles on my cake, I wished one last time, Please let me be published. A week later I received a very
cold, generic rejection, the kind that tells you the publisher barely glanced
at your work, and those little broken pieces inside of me seemed to come
crumbling down. As much as
I wanted to be an author, as much as I wanted to follow my dreams, I felt like
Wendy when she had to force herself to leave Never Never Land. I needed to grow up, stop fantasizing,
and join the real world. I remained hopeful against all odds for almost
four years, but I had run out of optimism. Then everything changed.
Two weeks later, on September
29, 2011 I opened up my mail and saw what was likely another rejection, but I
did not cry. Yes, there
were no tears at first, not until I read the words, “We would like to publish
your book.”
It took me a moment to
comprehend that I was not reading another rejection. It didn’t completely sink in until I
read on and saw the projected publication dates. My heart began to pound, yet I don’t
think I was breathing. I
read the letter out loud and when my ears actually heard the words I screamed
and burst into tears. My
dreams were coming true! I
picked up my daughter and danced around my home like a loon. By the time I made my first call to
family I was shaking and crying so hard the person on the other line couldn’t
make out what I was saying. When
they finally understood they screamed as well (right in the middle of the
dollar store). I had
friends screaming and dancing all over the place once I sent out a text.
It was a moment I don’t think I
will ever forget, a moment just before all faith was lost, but then suddenly
found. For all of you
struggling authors out there, don’t give up! If you love to write as much as I do,
stick with it! Try and try
again for as long as you can. I
am proof that with enough heart and determination dreams do come true!
That article was written a year
ago and I still feel every bit of the passion I felt then, only so much has
changed. I love to encourage new authors, because I still consider myself new.
First, if you write, you are an author. Don’t wait for others to validate your
talent. My first year ‘out there’ has been insane and beyond incredible. Am I
rich? Not even close! But that was never the goal. The goal was to follow my
dreams. So here is a brief summery of my first year as a published author.
I was accepted by Siren
Publishing in September 2011. They contracted The Order of Vampyres, an erotic
Amish vampyre series that now has three books (more to come) and recently won
the Top Bite Award from Bitten by Paranormal Romance. If you like a good vamp
saga, check out The Order, but warning, you should really read them in order
(pardon the pun).
I spent the winter writing and
editing and learning the ropes. In spring of 2012 I began finishing my New Castle series. It was
the first romance series I had ever written and it basically needed to be
rewritten, a daunting task, but I did it. I then submitted it and—what do you
know—it was picked up by Secret Cravings Publishing! The first New
Castle book, White Chocolate, was just released this August and All
4 You {New Castle
2} just came out this month and has already climbed to the top of several
bestseller charts.
It is an incredible feeling to
actually see my name out there, but the most magical feeling comes when a
reader tells me they enjoyed something I wrote. I love my readers and they make
everything worthwhile!
I definitely believe I am
living my own Cinderella story. I can’t even begin to describe my emotions over
the past ten days. My world literally shifted. Last Tuesday I opened my mail
and found a contract for Breaking Perfect, an erotic MMF romance I write. That
afternoon I was contracted for another 6 books in a new Irish series, McCullough Mountain! The first of that series,
Sacred Waters, comes out spring 2013. And then something incredible happened…
It is widely known that you
can’t get into the “Top 6” New York
publishing houses without an agent. I am still searching for my agent (If you’re reading this…feel
free to shoot me an email and let me know where you’ve been. LOL). Well, I took
a chance and at the Lori Foster Reader Author Get Together this year. I mingled
with some pretty talented authors, agents, and I even had a chance to pitch to
some of the big guys. I returned home from the convention and wrote my heart
out, thinking sooner or later I’m going to write the one. Well, I wrote it. Just last week I was contacted by
Penguin regarding a new trilogy I wrote this summer! I made it!
Life is an incredible (an
emotional) journey. Thirteen months ago I thought about giving up. Today I have
16 books contracted and many more to come! My fans are absolutely incredible
and spend a good part of each day being thankful for the path my life has
taken, even the dips along the way. I now go to schools and talk to children
about following their dreams. This summer I got a letter from a little girl that
said, “Ms. Michaels, you aimed for the moon and became a star.” When I read
that line I burst into tears. I think that was the moment I realized my dreams
had come true.
All I can tell you is if you
love writing, stick with it!
Where can you find Lydia Michaels?
Lydia
can be found/reached at www.LydiaMichaels.org
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/lydia-michaels
Bookstrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/lydia-michaels
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