Renee Luke Is In The Chair

Sep 15

Roll up, roll up! It’s the first ever visit to the grill by erotic romanticist Renee Luke. I’m sure we’re going to have a delicious time! Welcome, Renee!

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1.      Who was your first famous-person crush?

Okay, well I didn’t have a TV until I was 10 and even after that, I was hardly ever allowed to watch. So I had music. I got my first ‘famous-person’ crush when I was 16. (pink cheeks) It is/was LL Cool J.  I mostly listened to the radio but when I was 16 I purchased the tape (yes, I said tape) of LL’s album. It included a pull-out color mini poster of him in a bunch of different poses. And oh yes, baby, he was/is beautiful. Those dimples. Those lips. That voice. Yes, he was my first and my current crush.

 

2.      What writers inspired you as a child and young adult?

Because we didn’t have a TV growing up, my mom read to us nightly. There were so many incredible stories but the series that burned mostly deeply into my memory was C.S. Lewis and The Chronicles of Narnia. Knowing that such amazing worlds could be created with words definitely inspired me. 

3.      What made you turn your hand to writing erotica?

Prior to writing erotica/erotic romance, I was writing historical romances. On a challenge from a friend, I decided to see how hot I could write. Could I make the pages sizzle rather than just steam?  My first attempt at erotic was Chocolate Kisses. After writing 10 complete historical romances and not selling any of them, Chocolate Kisses sold to NAL within a couple months of completion. I guess my friend’s dare/challenge worked out pretty well.

4.      Have any of your books/stories/scenes been inspired by a song or piece of music?

I write to music. Loud. In headphones. Each story ends up with a playlist.  And while I write to music (the rhythm and beat motivate me) I wouldn’t say that any of my books/stories/scene have been inspired by a song or a piece of music.

5.      Do you think where you live has influenced what you write?

I live in the suburbs in a pretty unromantic setting. I suppose if I lived near the beach or on an exotic island, or in the middle of the wilderness, I’d be pretty inspired by where I live. For now, I think that I am not influenced in my writing by where I live, but use my imagination to create settings because of the boringness of my own setting.

6.      You once wrote a book called Dipped In Chocolate. What sort of chocolate?

Chocolate Kisses is about Hershey’s chocolate Kisses. Nicole kept a cookie jar on her countertop filled with Hershey Kisses and when she proposes a sexual relationship with her friend Marcus, she adds foil wrapped condoms to the cookie jar with the arrangement that when the condoms are gone, their sexual encounters will be over.

7.      What are your favourite erotic themes?

I love themes that include desert and edibles mixed in with the erotic romances. I often include chocolates, berries, whipped cream into the scenes. Items that are tasty and lickable off the skin.  I also adore happily-ever-afters so most all of my stories contain them.

8.      What’s your heroine wearing when she’s bent on seduction?

To be honest, I’ve written very few erotic stories where the heroine sets out to seduce. Often, it’s when she’s not trying to be sexy that the hero finds her most irresistible and is seduced by her. Often she’ll be a mess, with chocolate on her face and apron, hair a mess, or after she’s been crying and her eyes are puffy and lips are wet. 

9.      What word choices completely turn you off when reading erotica?

Oh my goodness. Ha! I guess I’m pretty opened minded when it comes to reading erotica. There is very little that would be a complete turn-off. And, I’m a strong believer that rules can be broken if the writer is skilled enough to break them well.  But, there’s two that stick out to me that I still feel a mixture of disgust and humor over even after years since reading it. They are ‘horse meat’ and ‘slime hole’ Yes, truly, someone wrote those.

10.  What are you working on now?

A whole BUNCH of things. I am struggling (maybe admitting it is the first step) to finish Tease. I keep setting it aside to work on anything else because Jonah is giving me trouble. He is unlike any hero I’ve ever written. He’s both Alpha and Beta in one. He’s had a hard life and a harder decade and he has every reason to be bitter and angry. But, he approaches life with laughter and an ease I don’t understand. I just signed up for Summer Camp of NaNo so I’m hoping to get him done. Finally.

 

I am also in the midst of writing a whole bunch of short stories for different anthology calls. I think this is such a good way to reach a broad spectrum of readers.

 

I’ve also recently been included in The Den of Sin and have an AA contemporary book coming out this fall (nov release) with them, as well as a medieval erotic romance in an anthology put out by Delilah Devlin (oct release) I have Thou Art Mine which recently sold to Ellora’s Cave. It’s a full length erotic medieval romance.

 

I have a WIP called Play With Me, think Bad Girls Club meets Bar Rescue, or Coyote Ugly with a competition to see who gets to run the bar.

 

And, I am also Nyomi Scott and write YA, so I’m working on a series of YA as well called Drama Center…

 

I could go on. I have so many. In addition, I’ve been designing book covers and started Cover Me Book Covers. My client list is slowly growing.

 

All exciting ish, if you ask me :)

 

Thanks so much for having me.

 

Thank you so much for coming! We have a lot in common – the Narnia books were my favourites as a child, and I’m a devotee of historical romances as well. All the best of luck with your forthcoming books and projects.

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A Snog For Sommer

Sep 14

Admit it, you’ve always wanted to give Sommer Marsden a snog. And now, this weekend, our dreams are coming true, because over 50 of us erotica bods are puckering up for our lovely friend in her hour of need.

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If you want to give cancer a big kick up the arse, you can go here to make a donation to help Sommer and her family cope with the fallout of her husband’s illness.

There’s also masses of giveaways and prizes to be had, if you check the Smut For Good page and visit all the different authors.

I’m giving away a print copy – doesn’t matter where you live, I’ll send it to you – of my new Black Lace novel, Diamond. And without further ado, here’s a snog from it.

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There was a silence, strangely awkward.

‘You’re lonely,’ said Leonardo.

‘Yes. But I’m used to it now.’

‘You shouldn’t have to be. Someone like you.’

He had a look in his eyes that liquefied her.

‘Someone like me?’ she whispered. ‘What’s that?’

He cupped her cheek in one hand and she let out a breath, almost of relief. Yes, he was touching her. Yes, now she realised she had wanted him to all day.

‘Gorgeous,’ he said. ‘And amazing.’

‘Oh, don’t,’ she said with a laugh of terror. This had to stop, didn’t it? This couldn’t happen, could it?

‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘You’ve made something of your life. You’re special. If I were Deano Diamond…’ He looked away, as if he could scarcely believe what he knew of that individual.

‘Leo…’

‘Hush. When was the last time you were kissed? Properly, I mean.’

‘I…can’t remember.’

‘That’s a fookin disgrace.’

There was a moment that seemed to stretch forever, when his pupils were giant in his eyes and all Jenna could think was Go on, then, if you’re going to – kiss me.

He tightened his hold on her face and tilted it up to him before ducking down to meet her lips with his.

How can it hurt? It’s just a kiss. It’s all right to kiss.

It was more than all right. Leonardo knew how to do it. Just the touch of his skin was electric, and when he brought his mouth to bear on her she thought she might swoon away into a froth of desire on the mattress. How had she forgotten the elemental pleasure of a warm, male, human body close to hers? She pushed her lips to his and gave him tacit permission to keep the pressure up, to increase it if need be.

She placed her hand on his upper arm, making it clear that she wanted this togetherness. Her fingers curled tightly against his solid muscle, just about where his bad tattoo was. He, in his turn, circled her waist, keeping her pressed into him.

His lips were fuller and more satisfying that Deano’s, which were thin and hard. There was a luscious softness to them that made the firmness of his kiss paradoxical and perfect. She could never tire of this feeling. It was better than wine and better than money and better than fame. If he carried on kissing her, she could be made to agree to anything.

What kind of woman did that make her?

She was slightly horrified with herself, but it still didn’t induce her to give up this glorious much-missed feeling, which was now spreading through her body like liquid flame.

And why not? Her inner voice still tormented her with apprehensions of how wrong this was. Don’t I deserve a little human comfort, a little pleasure? After everything I’ve been through?

The kisses were feverish now, hungry and all-consuming. Leo’s fingers raked through her hair, pulled at it, setting off little sparks in her scalp. He pressed and pinched and gripped her until they fell, sideways on, flat to the mattress.

Now their legs rubbed and wrapped around each other and they were close as could be, no space between them for a sliver of card. Jenna felt her chin and lower face grow slippery and a little raw from his evening stubble. His tongue broke through and she accepted the surrender with enthusiasm, pushing her own back at him.

The more they took from each other, it seemed, the more they wanted. Each new act of wantonness opened up the possibility of more, an endless vista of sensual pleasures. She wanted him in her, her in him. While they were locked like this, nothing else mattered.

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Alana Noel Voth Is In The Chair

Sep 08

Come and feast upon the words of Alana Noel Voth at the grill today – if you’re lucky, she might have a chocolate-covered grasshopper for you! But she’s much more likely to delight your senses with her warmth and sparkling intelligence. Welcome, Alana!

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  1. I saw you mention recently that you had just finished writing a novel. I need to know all about that!

Okay! I spent three years and ten months writing then revising No Sugar Tonight. Far as the time I spent on it, I like what Joe Hill said. “It’s not that I write slow . . . It’s that I rewrite like Lady Macbeth washes her hands.” No Sugar Tonight is a dark paranormal thriller with both erotic and romantic elements. I’m currently querying agents!

2. What writers inspired you as a child and young adult?

S.E. Hinton, Stephen King, Harold Robbins, Sidney Sheldon, & V. C Andrews.

 3. What was the first story you ever wrote?

I wrote a novel in the seventh grade that was a complete rip off of The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton. Too bad I had no access to Wattpad then. I would have published it! The first erotic story I wrote (excluding the anonymous stuff I wrote for Playgirl) was “Genuflection,” which later appeared in Best Gay Erotica then Best American Erotica and is part of my collection, Dog Men.

4. Have any of your books/stories/scenes been inspired by a song or piece of music?

All the time! My novel is named for a song by The Guess Who, “No Sugar Tonight (New Mother Nature.)” I’ve also named a few chapters after songs, “Solitary Man,” by Neil Diamond and “Fire Lake” by Bob Segar to name a couple. Most of the novel’s chapter names are shout-outs to songs, stories, movies, even an episode of the TV show, Dexter.

5. Do you think where you live has influenced your work?

Plenty of my stories are set in trailer parks.

6. If you could meet up with your younger self just before she decided to write erotica, what advice would you give her?

Please worry less about what other writers are publishing, winning, etc.

7. If you were given a gazillion dollars to start a publishing company, what kind of material would you publish?

I have eclectic tastes and struggle with “genre,” so maybe as a publisher I’d be more interested in who than what. I’d want to publish xTx’s first novel, which I hope she calls Strange Magic, (ELO song!) and Sommer Marsden’s first horror novel and Shanna Germain’s memoir and the memoir Milcah Halili Orbacedo will write one day.

 8. Sam Trammell is coming round for tea. What are you going to cook for him?

My son swears my spaghetti sauce is the best in the world, but I from what I understand, Sam is under a lot of pressure to look good naked and constantly “starves” himself, his words, not mine, so he may not want something as heavy as spaghetti. I’d ask my brother to make us a couple sushi rolls, since my brother makes the best sushi rolls in the world.

9. What’s your heroine wearing when she’s bent on seduction?

There’s a scene in the novel where Sugar arrives at Segar’s Bar and Grill wearing a pink dress, no underwear. One of the characters in my story, “Dog Men,” wears pink, too.

10. What are you working on now?

A short story that takes place in a trailer park. The primary character is a teenaged boy suffering post-traumatic stress syndrome. He was home alone with his father when his father committed suicide. I call the story “Born Again” and am sending it to The Missouri Review soon as I finish it because The Missouri Review has become my Holy Grail.

I hope you achieve your Holy Grail with that! Thanks for taking the time to answer my questions.

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The Rule Of Princes

Sep 07

It’s hectic here at the moment, and I’m trying to keep up with all my news and new releases, but I feel like I’m slipping…

Anyway, here is the gen on book 2 of my Kingdoms of Desire trilogy – The Rule of Princes. It’s the sequel to Princess In Chains, an erotic, romantic, fantasy romp full of kings and princesses and alchemists and dangerous situations.

The Rule of Princes

For fans of Game of Thrones comes an erotic journey for freedom – bringing about unexpected truths, love, and loyalty. 

The sequel to the stunning erotic fantasy novel Princess In Chains. 

With their leaders captured and imprisoned, the Valish Liberation fugitives must reach the Princes of Thren in order to plead their cause and sue for their support. Arvon must convince the Princes of his true royal identity if he is to succeed. Meanwhile, Taran discovers exactly why Sula is so reluctant to enter the royal palace. The past intrudes into the present and new alliances – and romances – are forged before the final reckoning looms.

The book is available here.

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Ruth Ramsden Is In The Chair

Sep 01

September has sprung, and it’s about to get all aesthetic here at the grill, as I welcome a mistress of multi talents – the wonderful artist and writer, Ruth Ramsden. Welcome, Ruth!

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1. Who was your first famous person crush?

My first famous person crush was a bit odd. I just didn’t get all that Donny Osmond, Bay city Rollers kiddie stuff that was current when I was little. I was a strange child. I listened to Thelonius Monk and wore hats (still do). My first definite erotic musings involved someone much more grown up. John Thaw, the actor (sadly now deceased), then playing the part of Regan in The Sweeney TV series. A good looking, filthy talking hard man of the old school. I even remember having an erotic dream about him involving a certain amount of bondage! His side kick on the show – played by Dennis Waterman was supposed to be the heart throb but John was the one I wanted. I am unashamed of that. He’s still incredibly horny!

 

2. Who or what inspired your imagination as a child?

My mother inspired me to write when I was young. She was herself a writer of many marvellous science fiction novels. She wrote for the sheer enjoyment of it and there was always the clatter of our old fashioned Imperial typewriter in the house and lots of scribbling and plotting. I grew up in an atmosphere where it didn’t seem unusual to pick up a pen and make a start on writing something myself. Making a start being the operative phrase, because I hardly ever finished anything. I started writing poetry when I was about six or seven. My first attempt at a novel, probably when I was about ten. I think my mother made me appreciate how hard it is to finish what you start without loving what you’re doing. And how rewarding it is when you do.

 

3. Why did you start writing erotica?

I started writing erotic stories after a very long hiatus from writing and it was a kind of gateway for me back into ‘serious’ novels. I’d been on the fetish scene for a while by then and I thought, “There must be a better way of doing this…”. Just like everyone, I guess. I think the humour of much of sex play is what I felt was missing and apart from some short stories of the usual kind for Forum and Xcite, things like that, with my novel, Blue Murder At The Pink Parrot, I wanted to explore some of the sillier side of SM, without denigrating it at all. Be honest. There’s something inherently silly (as well as joyfully free) about a middle aged man at some dark SM venue, sporting a large beer gut and a very small thong, asleep under a Sombrero, surrounded by canes and floggers. I didn’t make that up. Poor lamb had exhausted himself with too much deviance.

 

4. Are any of your books or stories inspired by a piece of music or song?

I don’t think any of my novels or scenes have been inspired by music but one of the characters has always been represented in my head by a piece of music. The character of Max Blackman in the  Pink Parrot novels always plays to the tune of Push Downstairs by Underworld. It’s a great track but I’ve no idea why the character of a jazz saxophonist should provoke a piece of 90s techno.

 

5. Does where you live affect what you write?

I’ve been influenced by where I live in the sense that I only like to write about places I know. I feel very uncomfortable, fake in fact, if I try giving it large about a place I have no idea about. All of my novels are anchored in places I’ve lived or places I have a handle on. It’s just practical really. I can illustrate the surroundings of my characters more certainly if I’ve been there myself. I suppose it comes with being a very visual sort of person.

 

6. You not only write erotica but also create beautiful erotic art. I’d love to hear more about how that came about (with illustrations!).

I love to make art of figures (I’m rubbish at landscapes!) and there’s nothing more beautiful than erotica, nothing more sensual or touching. I suppose it started as a sort of turn on. Seeing how far I could go making things ‘naughty’, just for my own amusement, in a juvenile sort of way. Then I realised there was nothing juvenile about it. The depiction of erotica is a perfectly legitimate artistic expression and has been beautifully illustrated over many centuries by many artists from Myron to Canova, from Titian to Beardsley. There are many fine artists whose work isn’t taken ‘seriously’ because they work with erotic figures and that’s a shame because it’s part of the human imperative. I’m a member of the Guild of Erotic Artists and proud to be so.

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7. What kind of things inspire your erotic writing?

Things that inspire my erotic writing are things that turn me on. I think you can only write with conviction about stuff that gets you breathless. I write largely from the point of view of a top but I switch so I can always find something that tickles my fancy! Direct eye to eye contact. Juice. The shudder that comes with anticipation. Those moments.

 

8. What’s sexier – bare or clothed? If clothed, what sort of clothes?

Bare or clothed? Both, actually. Semi clothed. Can I have that? An open shirt. I remember I took a photo of my partner naked, save for a pair of patent scarlet Grinders boots and a loose white shirt with green dragons writhing on the back. That was so hot. God, yes! There’s a lot to be said about the play between fabric and skin.

 

9. A Guardian review of your novel Blue Murder at the Pink Parrot suggests that your work will appeal to fans of Christa Faust, Joolz Denby and Grant Morrison. Do you agree with that? What kind of person is your ‘ideal reader’?

Grant Morrison? Yes! Thank you very much! My ideal reader is a literate, slightly perverted weirdo. Someone who likes something a bit different and enjoys a good laugh. I’m a big fan of Robert Rankin. I’m basically just a surrealist who’s trying to act normal.

 

10. What are you working on now?

At the moment I’m working on a novel called Free Porn. It’s a Tom Sharp-ish type of thing about pornography, politics, computer nerdery and a dead dwarf. I’m in the phase where it’s a bit like herding cats. Lots of ideas, lots of plot lines; making flow charts, drinking a lot and swearing. Humour is always a hard sell but it really does go hand in hand with erotica. There is literally no-one on the planet who hasn’t had a cringe moment in the midst of something that should have been porno perfect. I am the anti-porn! Our failings make us human, they bring us closer and I think that’s actually more sensual than all the brainless squish stuff. The trick is to maintain its sensuality, keep it hot but just with tongue slightly in cheek, if it’s not busy elsewhere that is…

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Fantastic answers, Ruth – I have really enjoyed reading these. And I do think your art reminds me of Aubrey Beardsley, not that I know much about art. The new book sounds amazing – let us know when it achieves full formation.

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A Cocktail For Kristina: Slippery Nipple

Aug 29

Hello, and welcome to my spot at the Kinky Cocktail Bar. We’re open to day to celebrate the imminent publication of Kristina Lloyd’s new Black Lace novel, Undone, and believe me, happy hour will last all day and all night.

Allow me to offer you a Slippery Nipple.

Some people might give you a swizzle stick or a paper umbrella in your cocktail. If you’re lucky you’ll get a sparkler. Well, that’s what I’m giving you today – and not just any old sparkler either. Look in your drink and you’ll find a diamond!

OK, before you get your little jeweller’s eye glass out – I mean an excerpt from my new Black Lace novel, Diamond. The reason for my choice of cocktail should become clear when you read the lead-up to what, after hearing some reader feedback, I have come to think of as The Lemon Curd Scene.

She began emptying the grocery bags into the brand new stainless steel American-style fridge, but she had only unpacked a few items before Jason wrapped her in the duvet from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

‘Get off,’ she said, laughing, trying to push him back, but this only resulted in a tumble on to the bright new tiles. They scrambled and squirmed against each other until Jenna was on the floor, pinned beneath an exultant, still unshaven Jason.

‘Brand spanking new kitchen, eh?’ he said. ‘You know what this means?’

‘I think I know but I daresay you’ve got some weird idea of your own.’ Jenna tried to push him off but he was impossible to dislodge.

‘Needs christening,’ he said. ‘Doesn’t it?’

‘Go and cook something then,’ she said, pushing her knee into his thigh. It was solid as rock.

‘You want me to heat something up, love? That can be done.’

He moved one of her wrists carefully beside the other so he could hold both in the pinion of one hand then, with his other, reached over to fumble in the nearest shopping bag.

‘Oh, strawberries,’ he guessed, fingering a package. ‘Yeah?’

‘Well, it is nearly time for Wimbledon.’

‘Seasonal. Did you get cream?’

He drew out the punnet of strawberries and broke the seal with his teeth.

‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘You wanted me to sort out some dinner,’ he defended himself, putting the strawberries down beside him. ‘And I’m thinking of killing two birds with one stone. Well, not killing. Unless the massive orgasms I give you turn out to be fatal.’

‘Jason. I can’t. I’m so sore all over…’

‘So am I. I’m not going to fuck you. But a man needs to eat.’

He reached back into the bag and identified a carton of double cream.

‘Now are you going to lie there nice and quiet while I get this tea ready?’ he asked.

‘The duvet…’

‘Got a nice new washer, haven’t you? The duvet can be its first load. Are you going to, Jen? Or do I have to tie you up?’

She felt a twinge of delight at the thought and almost said ‘no’ to test this resolve, but there was time enough, in more comfortable circumstances, to take her first steps towards bondage, so she nodded acquiescence.

‘Good girl.’ He released her wrists and unsealed the lid of the cream.

He unbuttoned her shirt dress with sure fingers, then reached underneath to unclip and remove her bra. Her knickers soon disappeared too, leaving only her sandals, but he left them on. He slipped a hand between her thighs, hinting them apart, then he took the carton, held it high over her ribs and began to pour.

It was cold and she gasped as the thick white liquid splashed on and between her breasts. Jason poured a trail down her belly, then angled her hips up so he could deposit the rest of the carton in and around her lower lips, coating them thickly. The chill of it felt deliciously soothing to the mild burn that had affected that area all day and Jenna lay back and let it all happen, caught in the luxuriant lasciviousness of it all.

‘You’re making me hungry,’ he said.

She felt the drips running down the curve of her bottom, pooling in all her creases and cracks.

Her nipples stood up, emerging from the cream slick like pink lifebuoys.

‘When I look at you like that,’ he said, breathing heavily, ‘I’m imagining that cream didn’t come from a carton. You look too fookin hot to take.’

He sat back, panting and looking her up and down with a starved eye.

She really thought he might bent down and bite a chunk out of her.

Instead, he grabbed at the strawberries, took a handful and scattered them across her torso. He picked the tops off two and mashed them down on her nipples until they stuck there, like mad scarlet caricatures of what they covered. The rest were pushed between her lower lips, into a jumble that might eventually become a purée. How soft and firm and cold they felt, added to the thick cream and her own streaming juices. Jason kept the heel of his hand at her pussy, holding the fruit in position, while he lowered himself over her and began to lick and lap at her belly and breasts.

His heat coupled with the cold collation brought the pitch of sensuality high. She twisted and gasped and tried to push her pussy, full of strawberries, further into him, to crush them and turn everything to pink mush.

‘Mm,’ he said, raising his head. ‘Getting it ready for me, babe?’

His tongue drew lines and swirls in her warm cream coating, sucking it from her skin until it was bare again, but shiny from his attentions.

He made her wait, kissing every inch of her upper body, before lowering his face between her thighs. He took his hand away from the crushed strawberries and flicked his glance towards her face.

‘Time for my just desserts, then, eh? Sorry.’

Her groan at the joke was soon transformed into another kind of outpouring. The workings of his tongue and lips on her sweet, fruity centre melted her until she was pure juice, gushing into his mouth. He devoured her, feasting off her clit, her lips, her widespread inner core, until she was dizzy with it and her orgasm began to circle wildly into being.

The climax pushed her bottom off the floor into his greedy face, making him laugh on her pussy and lick harder.

‘Oh God,’ she cried. ‘What are you? Oh God, oh, God, oh God!’

When he finally knelt up, sometime after her third orgasm, and set her free from the tyranny of her own body and sex, he had a glow of feral victory in his eye that made her pulse race despite her ragged state.

‘Never been licked like that before, eh?’ he panted.

She could only shake her head.

‘Those big Hollywood dicks can’t do it like this Bledburn boy, eh?’

Again, a shake of the head.

‘You’re something else,’ she managed to say.

It took some effort of will, but she propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at her ravaged body, sticky and patterned here and there with drying pink fruit pulp. Then she looked up at Jason, kneeling in only his boxers, which were significantly tented.

Fair was fair.

She dragged herself to her knees and rummaged in the shopping bags.

‘What you looking for?’ he asked, amused, guessing her intent.

‘Just…hmm, madras curry paste, probably not.’

‘Fuck no!’

‘Peanut butter?’

He shook his head rapidly. ‘I’m allergic.’

‘What about marmite?’

He laughed loudly.

‘Whatever turns you on, darlin’.’

‘Not marmite. Ah. Now.’

She smiled radiantly at him, drawing from the bag a jar of lemon curd.

 

BUT WHAT DOES SHE DO WITH IT???? You’ll have to read the book to find out…

But don’t just read that book! Read this one too.

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I Got Lucky!

Aug 28

Not only is it release day for Her World of Submission, the final instalment of the serial that began with His House of Submission, but it’s also release day for A.M. Hartnett’s new book, Holding My Breath, book 2 in her Carried Away series.

And I have a hot date with its hero, Quinn Pattengale! OMG, I haven’t got a thing to wear…but that might not be a problem…

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So we’re going to assume that you’re not a paying client. That process is a little different. Quinn does have his way of doing things to make sure you get your money’s worth right from the start – just ask Molly. She’s had her eye on him for weeks now. You’ve caught his eye, much like Molly will, and his intentions are far from professional.

 

What does he look like?

 

You’re going to be thanking me for days, Justine. Quinn is tall and trim. He spends a good part of his time working out and focusing on his appearance — after all, that is a large part of what he’s selling. He’s got reddish-brown hair and is tanned just enough to get rid of that pale complexion, and at first look you think he probably has spent time in a tanning bed. Second look, however, shows just the slightest bit of windburn, and you know he doesn’t limit himself the gym. Hiking, maybe? Jogging? He hasn’t shaved for your date. He suspects you like a little scruff, just like he knows giving you that naughty smirk will have you breathless at first glance.

 

What is he wearing?

 

Normally he’d greet you in a suit and tie, flash a bit of bling to show you that he’s worth every penny, but now he’s out to show you his other side. No tie. A navy pinstripe shirt with the collar open just enough that your mouth waters with wanting to see the rest. The jeans are faded and torn in spots, but not old — they’re designer, but they’re meant to look shabby. You think he’d finish off the look nicely with a hat, but he’s obviously taken some care to make his thick hair look like it would after you run your fingers through it and that’s one fantasy you would prefer not to ruin.

 

What sort of car is he driving when he picks me up?

 

Once upon a time, he would have picked you up on something fast and flashy. You know how kids are when they first come into a bit of money. These days, he’s got himself a Ford Fusion in black and with all the bells and whistles. He’s been told it suits him a lot more than the convertible.

 

What’s playing on the car radio?

 

Molly once accused him of mindfucking women before he takes their clothes off, and he doesn’t entirely discard that bit of trickery outside of his negotiations, which is why when you settle into the passenger seat you hear Leonard Cohen’s A Thousand Kisses Deep. The lyrics aren’t the sexiest but man, oh man, the car gets a hotter with every note.

 

What is the first thing he says to me when I get into the car?

 

He doesn’t say anything. He just gives you a long look from head to toe, lingers on your face for a breathless moment, then he turns the engine and lets you quietly burn.

 

Where is he taking me?

 

Somewhere intimate, but not too stuffy. Casual gourmet. There are sliders on the menu, but there’s also a small selection of Greek dishes. The wait staff is just-the-facts, moving like ghosts to take your orders and then just vanish, leaving you to gaze at him as he talks — and Quinn does like to talk.

 

What will we eat/drink?

 

He likes to order, not because he wants you to think he’s in charge but because he’s enthusiastic about trying new things. Did you just make a face at the idea of poutine served with goat’s cheese? Blasphemy, you say? It’s a good thing you didn’t squeeze into a little black dress for this because here come the carbs: he’s just ordered one serving with two forks. Well, this is unexpected, so you might as well set aside the wine menu and order yourself a beer like he is.

 

What’s on the menu for dessert?

 

There’s no dessert menu. You’ll have to do with specialty coffee. Once again, Mr Pattengale insists you sample the Chocolate Cherry Americano while he tries the Banana Cream. Don’t bother making a joke about the coffee keeping you up all night. That’ll only get you a naughty look. Then again, his naughty looks are the best, so fill your boots.

 

Does he have a gift for me? What is it?

 

Not yet …

 

The big question: does he invite me back to his place? Or him to mine?

 

Chances are that there was an unspoken understanding that he was getting you in bed tonight the minute you set up this little meeting. Quinn doesn’t fuck around, so as soon as you’re back at the car, he invites himself back to your place. Don’t worry, though. It’s not so he can sneak out on you in the wee hours. Quinn just likes to have a look around and see who he’s dealing with, and you can tell a lot about a person from taking a good look around where they live.

 

If I go back to his place for ‘coffee’…what’s it like in there?

 

Ah, but we’ve established we’re going back to your place and there’ll be no coffee involved. Once inside, you offer him a drink. He’s driving, but you both know that the car parked outside isn’t going anywhere until the morning light.

 

Did he bring any, ahem, other gifts for the evening? Maybe a little bag of tricks?

 

He’s more interested in your bag of tricks, wherever you hide them, but he’s not completely without an arsenal of his own. He’s got your name on his lips and his tongue, and he’s going to use it on you all night long.

 

What happens when we get there…?

 

He’s going to watch you, and he’s going to make you wait a little longer. You already know what he does for a living — he never would have kept you in the dark when he asked for this little rendezvous. You know you’d never be able to afford him, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to hold back on you on his own time. The opposite, actually. He knows this is what you’re thinking, and he’s loving the way you squirm and try to hide it.

 

And then he’ll start talking, and you can forget about being coy. You can try, though. He’ll just enjoy mindfucking you more than ever.

 

Does he make me breakfast, take me out for coffee, or try and escape as quickly as possible?

 

I wouldn’t count on getting him out of your bed so quickly when the sun comes up. He likes to sleep in. If you slip your stretched and sore little body from the bed, he’ll probably sprawl all over it and stay there until you come back. And if you come back … well, let’s just say coffee can wait a little longer. Quinn has a much better way to get the day started.

 

Bonus question: Assuming the answer to above is not the third option, how long will he wait to ask me on a second date?

 

Chances are you’ll still be trying to catch your breath when Quinn insists on seeing you again. Like I said, he doesn’t fuck around. Just ask Molly.

Woah! That was a date and a half! I can still taste that goat’s cheese, mind you. And I still don’t have a thing to wear… Tell me more about Quinn and his ways!

Excerpt

He raised the brush and moved to the side. Molly popped out of the chair and scooted around to put it between them.

 

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, but was struck with a giddy thrill and began to laugh as she went on. ‘I’m really sorry. Your apartment is gorgeous, like something out of a magazine.’

 

‘Nice try.’ He dragged the chair around until it faced her, then dropped into the seat. ‘I might have accepted your apology if it wasn’t for that complete lack of remorse on your face.’

 

Molly leaned against the table. She tried, she really tried to wipe the smile off her face, but it seemed stuck in place, and there was Quinn grinning back at her, still the naughty professor with the glasses and the hard on.

 

‘Now what?’

 

‘What do you think?’ He tapped the brush against his thigh. ‘You’ve been here before. You know what to do.’

 

Molly’s smile vanished and she tried not to whimper. The burn had set into both cheeks, and the thought of taking another ten smacks seemed to turn up the temperature a few more notches.

 

‘Is there nothing else I can do to make amends? Maybe on my knees?’

 

‘Put that bottom lip back in and stop trying to be cute.’

 

He let his arms hang at his side and just stared back at her. Molly knew she could outright refuse and he’d let it go. Or maybe he wouldn’t and she’d have to threaten to leave.

 

But she wouldn’t.

 

And she didn’t.

 

She extended her hand, and when he took it she let him drag her down. With a resigned sigh she hung her head down, but he reached down and lifted her chin.

 

‘We’ll do this until you appreciate the view.’

 

‘You and this view,’ she murmured, then yelped as he gave her a whack. ‘Jesus!’

 

‘That’s not admiring.’ It sounded like the muttering was more for himself than for her.

 

He gently patted the spot he had just struck, then gave her another.

 

Blurb

“It’s a skill not every man possesses, and it can’t be taught. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”

 

For half his life Quinn has been making his living as a professional Casanova. Challenged by Molly to take his business elsewhere, he strikes a bargain with her: give him until New Year’s Eve and she’ll never see him again, and in the meantime he’ll make it worth her while.

 

As their arrangement becomes a passionate affair, there’s no denying that Molly’s been waiting for him to come into her life for a very long time. She never imagined that a man like Quinn would be the one.

 

Links

 

Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/Holding-Breath-Carried-Away-Book-ebook/dp/B00KFEH0X6

Amazon US – http://www.amazon.com/Holding-Breath-Carried-Away-Book-ebook/dp/B00KFEH0X6

 

Fantastic! Happy release day, and thanks for lending me Quinn to play with.

Dating story fans – head over to A.M.’s blog now to find out all about her evening with my dashingly dominant Jasper Jay!

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