I first started writing as soon as I could join words together and make something useful out of sentences. My mother was a prolific, though unpublished science fiction writer and it was just natural to follow her example, learning to type on her old Imperial manual typewriter, making grandiose plans for all sorts of exciting books, most of which never made it passed the 30 page mark before I got bored and moved on to something else. It wasn’t until my stoned and trippy teens that I realised my lifelong love of books and reading had gifted me the tools to really express myself and, believing I didn’t have the patience for a novel, I started writing terrible, terrible poetry.  I still remember the title of my first effort: “The Anthropomorphosis of Dr. Livingstone”. I think that gives you a fair idea. Thank God I grew out of that.

Apart from a few short stories and some brilliantly excoriating letters to various local authorities, it wasn’t until I reached my thirties that I started writing seriously. This coincided with my interest in the UK fetish scene and also gelled nicely with my other ‘job’ as an illustrator. I’ve been a figure painter all my life and my guilt free epiphany as a pervert proved a motivating force in both writing and drawing. The first piece of erotica I wrote was for a Submissive of mine. It was a serialized tale of girl on girl domination that I knew she would enjoy, something to keep her thinking of me between our play sessions together. I enjoyed writing it so much that I began writing short stories and articles for magazines – Penthouse Forum; Palmprint; Xcite and I’m still popping up in various compilations of smut, which is very gratifying.

My first novel – Blue Murder At The Pink Parrot took about 6 years to write and wasn’t really conceived as a piece of erotica, although a lot of the characters and situations were based on my more bizarre experiences in the fetish scene. Which is why the book is humorous. It’s a kind of noir-ish murder mystery with a dominatrix, a lot of drugs and a fair amount of kink. It’s basically a thriller because crime has always been my favourite genre. The main character is just a souped up version of me because at the time I wasn’t clever enough to invent a whole new character to explore in the first person. I was also worried that using the fetish scene as the backbone for a ‘mainstream’ novel might prove a little too alternative. Shows what I know. Of course I had no idea that EL James was gestating her piece of fan fiction and that BDSM would suddenly become ‘fashionable’. I suspect it wont remain so for long. BDSM – actual BDSM, 50 shades away from Christian Grey – is still a little too niche for the general market.

I write in the first person because I’m basically a fantasist. When I’m writing erotica I have to get turned on. In some respects, writing for me is just a more elaborate way of day dreaming and I’ve cultivated many very dirty set pieces in the dead of the night. But like any fulfilling sexual experience, the foreplay is the thing that counts and I’ve always found reading about sexual encounters in the context of some other action much more exciting. Porn for its own sake can be rather cheesy – “Madam, I have CUM to fix your boiler, let me just get my TOOL…”  The build up is the thing that you remember; an orgasm is an orgasm is an orgasm (especially in porn where it’s always the most amazing, explosive, incredible blah…blah). It’s the journey not the destination that leaves you wanting more. I suppose erotic context may have something to do with my interest in SM. It’s a very open, experimental sort of ethos, as long as all the interactions are consensual and it’s all about the turn on rather than the actual fuck. In fact the longer you can put it off, ramping up the tension, the better. Of course it just the same with writing about it. The more you can linger and finger the hornier it gets.

There is definitely an art to writing a good sex scene. It has its own rhythm and pace and you have to pitch the language just right. Many literary writers are catastrophically bad at this and the annual Bad Sex Award is a self renewing delight. They have my sympathy to a certain extent. It can be difficult finding words to describe the whole milieu don’t sound silly, OTT, repetitive or boring. The sensuality of sex as well as the physicality of it make a perfect written combination of action, reaction and contemplation. From a purely technical point of view, it’s quite a complex dance. But erotica isn’t technical. It’s something you feel when you write and there’s nothing I look forward to more than getting to the good bits. Never mind the plot – just get to the good stuff!

I suppose there might still be a notion that the Brits are more uptight about sex than the rest of the world. That’s not true. We just like complaining about things more. Politics, food, the weather, shopping, anything. But when it comes to sex, we are just as filthy as everyone else. After all (my chest swells with pride), we are the nation that gave the world ‘Dogging’, though I’ve yet to see a best seller about voyeuristic nocturnal encounters at a trucker’s rest stop. But apart from peculiarities like this, I don’t think there’s much difference in writing erotic fiction country to country when it comes right down to bump and grind. The language might occasionally differ but if you’ve written for magazines, you can bet your ‘ass’ that American English will be pretty standard anyway. The world I write about is definitely non standard, though. Especially when you bear in mind that my first novel was inspired by an encounter with a man who offered me £20,000 if he could come and live under my stairs as a pet. The first (and probably only occasion) when I could truthfully say twenty grand wouldn’t cover it.

The more I write, the more I realise I genuinely enjoy writing about sex, its consequences, its motivation, the twists and turns of people’s relationships. Although I’m still writing mysteries, I so look forward to the naughty bits that those books are getting ruder and ruder and now I’ve branched out into full on erotica as well. There are so many different sub-genres of erotic fiction that the main impulse, for me anyway, is to get away from the norm. It quite difficult when your dealing with a subject that’s based, bare bones, on a formula but all popular fiction is formulaic to some extent. The artistry lies in dodging the obvious bullet. I wont pretend I’ve mastered it but I’m trying. Like any sensualist, all I really want to do is turn you on…

Fantastic, funny and insightful stuff – am I the only one who has a secret desire to read The Anthropomorphism of Dr Livingstone? I’m sure I’m not. Thank you, Ruth!

From my cursory inspection of other erotic romances on the Amazon.it shelves (by Charlotte Stein and Madelynne Ellis, among others) I worked out that ‘piacere’ means pleasure! And I certainly hope my Italian readers get a lot of it.

On that subject, there are more free pleasures to be had at Amazon UK. Confessions of a Kinky Wife is off the free list now (still holding up well in the paid Kindle store) but you can get your hands on two free anthologies featuring stories of mine.

Come Play With Me includes my story You Can Have Me, in which a woman goes out in a very provocative T-shirt.

Sex And The Stranger contains one of my favourite cheeky little pieces, Shelf Pleasure – supermarket sex!

My other Mischief titles have been picking up great sales and reviews lately too, which is fantastic news. Not so long ago I wondered if I’d ever get Amazon reviews that weren’t by people I ‘knew’…well, that time seems to have come. Many, many thanks to all the lovely readers who take the time to share their thoughts – it’s very much appreciated.

Introduction to Rob and Lou.

Robert Nimble is thirty-five years old, he’s tech support for a large Internet host, and loves to play computer games to relax. He’s married to Louise Nimble, who’s a child minder, and a year younger than her husband. She bakes to unwind. Taking the old adage that stressed is desserts spelt backwards to heart.

Robert and Louise are more often known by the shortenings of their names—Rob and Lou. They’ve been married for ten years and have two children: Connor, who is six, and Elizabeth, who’s four.  They live in a terraced house in a suburban outskirt of Manchester. As a family, they enjoy their yearly week-long holiday to Scarborough, and visits to the cinema to watch films that the kids and adults giggle at in equal measure.  In the school holidays, they’ll often be found in museums and parks, enjoying the culture and the beauty of Britain.

They’re a smiley family, although Rob can get grumpy when his tech genius isn’t taken seriously enough, and Lou may have the patience of a saint with children, but more than two hours with her in-laws has her pulling out her hair. The children are mostly well-behaved, with an inclination to the curious, and the mischief that goes hand in hand with that. If they do run into the back of your legs, or scare you with their latest pet insect, they will apologise politely and you’re likely to instantly forgive them.

This book is not about the day-to-day life of this family, but those weekends and rare occasions that Lou and Rob get some time to themselves to indulge their sensual natures. Rob enjoys seeing his darling wife in very little clothing, and likes to indulge in intricate and imaginative role plays. Lou enjoys a bit of spanking, some domination, and bondage. She wouldn’t say she was into BDSM, per se; she just likes to dip a toe in the shallow end of that particularly pervy pond.  They both like to flirt with erotic danger, playing about in public places in hopes of possibly being caught.

Rob and Lou’s Wild Weekends are just that, so hold on and enjoy the ride.

Here’s an excerpt for you – careful, it’s a hot one!

It was only a small parcel in a typical brown padded envelope. It wasn’t expected, which is why I spent so long looking it over. The return address didn’t ring a bell, and I really couldn’t imagine what it could be so, finally, I opened it. I grinned to myself as I did. My husband Rob would have laughed at me, spending so long looking at the wrapping and wondering. He doesn’t get why I like to eke out the anticipation in moments like this.

Inside was a square of white with a lacy frill all around it. When I opened it up, I found ties –it was a pinny. Inside the parcel was a sealed envelope. I opened it to find a card covered in small red love hearts.

Wear this tonight and only this xxx

PS Kids are going to my mum’s for tea tonight, so don’t worry.

I recognised my husband’s handwriting immediately and chuckled when I remembered a conversation we’d held in a restaurant once about pinnies and their attractiveness. Well, Rob had been staring at this red-headed waitress (he loves auburn hair) with cute curves and pouty lips, and I had to pull him up on it.

“No, Lou, No.” He shook his head. “I am helplessly addicted to pinnies. I can’t help it.”

“Pinnies?” I lifted one brow and pinched his thigh under the table. “You’re turned on by tiny little aprons?”

“Yes.” He nodded solemnly.  “It’s a terrible affliction.”

“What’s your favourite kind?”

“White ones with lacy bits,” he replied, licking his lips salaciously.

That night, I whispered dirty sweet nothings in his ear while we fucked in the comfort of our hotel room bed. I told a story where I was a simple girl, waiting on tables in a quaint old tea shop, wearing a little lacy pinny. I giggled. He chuckled, but as my tale got hotter, the noises we made became strangled and lust-filled.

“You watch me until the end of my shift,” I whispered, hunched over him, my soft thighs stretched around his waist as his hard erection filled me. I moved gently up and down and continued the tale. “Then follow me outside into the alley. Before I can cry out, you clamp your hand over my mouth and push me roughly against the wall. I struggle helplessly but you hold me down and whisper about knowing I want it. How I’d teased you and how I would get what I’d been asking for.”

I still remember how he gripped my hips tightly when I rode him. I continued my story through groans of pleasure.

“You spin me around, press me into the harsh brick of the wall, and pull up my skirt. Grabbing hold of my prim pinny, you fuck me. I’m soaking wet, so you slide right in. You fuck me there in an alley, the girl you just met, the girl you hardly know.”

My words turned into unintelligible mumblings at the point where ecstasy took over. And ever since our holiday, with the visit to that restaurant and the evening’s tale of indecency in an apron, we’ve found a mutual fondness for the uniform of waiting staff and hotel workers alike. So, if Rob wanted me naked in nothing but a pinny for Valentine’s, that’s what he could have.

Pinny-perving! I love it. Here are the details of how to get hold of this fun-filled story:

Blurb: Hold on tight, it’s going to get wild! Rob and Lou could pass you in the streets and you’d likely not notice them. They’re in their thirties, have a family and jobs to hold down and they do it with smiles on their faces. But occasionally they get a little time off and that’s when things get seriously sexy.

Light-hearted and fun, this mini-anthology features episodes from this couple’s wild weekends. Making the most of the mud, finding the erotic nature of an apron and even having a sexy visit to a fish and chip shop. Rob and Lou make the mundane much more pleasurable so join them on their kinky ride.

Includes a bonus short story Damsel in Distress and excerpts from other ebooks by the award winning queen of rosy, raunchy and rubenesque erotic romance, Victoria Blisse.

Buy links and more info: http://victoriablisse.co.uk/books/rob-lous-wild-weekends

Individual Buy links:

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/313229

Amazon.co.uk  https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00CNZCBQQ/ref=as_li_tf_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=sexy00-21

Amazon.comhttp://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CNZCBQQ/ref=as_li_tf_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=sexy00-21

All Romance Ebooks https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-roblou039swildweekends-1190226-149.html?referrer=9d8e54f3ce71ca2554b388837ebb07e6

To be in with a chance of winning, all you have to do is comment below, mentioning a favourite piece of music. I’ll keep this open until next Sunday, 19th May. Best of luck!

Here are the blurbs for each book, just in case you’re not sure whether to enter.

1. Highly Strung

If music be the food of love, no wonder orchestral life is so passionate.

The new violinist with the Westminster Symphony Orchestra knows she shouldn’t have a crush on its glamorous leader, Milan Kaspar, but Lydia just can’t help wanting a piece of the arrogant Czech virtuoso.

Capturing his attention by refusing to play along with his plans for the orchestra, she soon finds herself drawn into his bed – a bed he shares with lovers of both sexes.

But Lydia wants more than wild and inventive sex – she wants to get behind Milan’s sophisticated veneer, to find the man inside the performer.

She seems doomed to failure, until a trip to his home country changes everything…

Reader Advisory: This book contains ménage relationships, bisexual characters and exhibitionism/voyeurism, plus some scenes of angst.

2. Musical Beds

Can hope come from heartbreak? Music and passion rule the lives of Milan and Lydia, building bridges between them even when all seems lost.

After Lydia leaves a grieving Milan behind in Prague, their tempestuous relationship seems to be over. But chance throws them back together again when Milan is given the career opportunity of a lifetime.

Lydia is thrown off course by his self-destructive behaviour and, as much as she loves him, she can’t be sure that she will ever be able to live with him. Then the issue is further confused by the arrival of a handsome and intriguing conductor from Germany…Meanwhile, Lydia’s friend Vanessa is finding herself strongly drawn to her percussionist colleague—a man young enough to be her son.

Affairs of the heart run riot through the Westminster Symphony Orchestra. Will they ruin an important television broadcast, or will the musicians find love and peace at last?

3. Close Harmony

How do you choose between two perfect men? It’s like choosing your favourite music—certain pieces suit certain moods. Which mood is Lydia feeling the most?

The autumn season of the Westminster Symphony Orchestra finds Lydia unable to choose between passionate Milan and dominant Karl-Heinz—so she decides to give them both a chance. She hops from one bed to the other, trying to weigh up her options. Milan has a hold on her heart, but has never been reliable. Karl-Heinz is a good man, but what is the secret behind his strange repression? Old rivalries and new jealousies are kindled while Lydia works hard at having the time of her sex life.

No trio has ever practised quite as hard as this…But there is trouble in paradise for Ben and Vanessa, too, as a face from Vanessa’s past makes an unwelcome appearance and all seems impossible to resolve.

Amid turbulent emotions and orchestra rehearsals, the musicians work hard to negotiate a path to happiness. Will music prove to be the food of love, or a poison, infecting the future?

Reader Advisory: This book contains BDSM, MMF ménage and MM, as well as references to rape and sexual assault.

Come and join in – and good luck!

Breathe You In

By Lily Harlem

Thanks so much for inviting me over to your lovely blog today, Justine, it’s great to be here.

My latest release Breathe You In has just hit the digital shelves at Amazon. This is a story that has been rattling around my head for years. Before the writing bug bit me I worked as a nurse. I spent some time in Oxford, England as a junior member of staff in the cardiac operating theatre. A story came to me back then about a girl who fell in love with the guy who had her husband’s transplanted heart, and now, fifteen years later Breathe You In has been born.

It was a really interesting book to write with so many overflowing emotions, not just grief (the book starts two years after the transplant operation and Katie is just trying to move on with her life) but also hope, secretiveness, trepidation, the concerns that come with being intimate with someone again after such a major operation and after loss. That perhaps makes the book sound desperately sad, but it isn’t, it’s about the hero and heroine coming to life again, enjoying each other and then fighting for and then grabbing what they want. I’ve added an excerpt below which shows them having fun…

I decided to set my story in Northampton, England because Ruben, the hero, is speed-demon and his career based at Silverstone Racetrack working on Formula One cars. This lust for life and quest for adrenaline is a key part of his character. Plus I, too, love motor racing and have visited Silverstone on several occasions – it’s hot, fast and loud! Northampton is also host to an international hot-air balloon festival, which is what Katie and Ruben are watching in the excerpt. Ruben’s flat just happens to overlook the park so they have front row seats, though the balloons turn out not to be nearly as interesting as having a bit of sexy fun together!

The first reviews for this erotic romance are very positive…

“This book is so wonderful I can’t even begin to express my feelings about it. Packed full of emotion. The writing is wonderful, the setting so vivid, and the relationship between this couple as it grows is so very real, so…just so brilliant.”

“I will NEVER forget this story. It’s one of those that will haunt my mind for years to come. There comes a time when you pick up a book and sink into it right away. Breathe You In tugged so hard, kept me reading and rooting, and I must thank Ms Harlem for penning a story that will always be with me.”

“I can’t put this book down. I think this is going to my favorite Harlem book to date.”

“I really can’t say much without giving away the plot, but let’s just say this is a very unique plot which will really tug at your heartstrings and make you think. Packed full of emotion, romance and eroticism, you’ll remember Breathe You In long after you’ve finished reading.”

You can pick your copy up at Amazon US or Amazon UK or whichever Amazon around the world you prefer, and if you do, drop me a line and let me know your thoughts. I’d love to hear from you.

Blurb

Soul-aching desire was just the beginning!

If the road to Heaven starts in Hell then I was ready to start climbing my way out and Ruben Strong was the man to accompany me. With his devastating good looks, seductively sexy charm and lust for adrenaline he was sure to make it a sensual and erotic experience as well as one to re-awake the passionate, throw-caution-to-the-wind woman I’d once been.

I’d given Ruben something, though, without him realizing, and that gift had come from the man I’d loved before. But I couldn’t tell Ruben. I had to keep that a tight secret even as our naked bodies wound together, sought out pleasure and hit the dizzy heights of ecstasy as one. Because Ruben had my husband’s heart, literally, and that heart was still in love with me, so it seemed, and now I was in love with Ruben.

Emotions tangled with bliss, and fears were locked away as I surrendered to the touch of Ruben’s hands, the taste of his skin and the sounds of his pleasure. I couldn’t deny that Ruben had brought me back to life the same way I had him and there was no way I was giving up that feeling, not for anyone.

Excerpt

“Oh my goodness, I swear that one is a Marshmallow Man.” I pointed out of the window and laughed. I’d never seen anything like it.

“Where?” Ruben looked, saw the hot-air balloon I was flapping my hand at and chuckled. “It looks like the one from Ghostbusters.”

The sky from Ruben’s flat—he had an amazing view of the park, which meant the festival too—was a multicolored sea of inflated balloons. But few were traditional shapes, the majority were novelty, and I marveled at how some could fly they were so big.

“This is crazy.” I sat back on his sofa that we’d spun to face the window. It was like having our own private box. Down below people milled about; kids eating candyfloss, toddlers in buggies pointing excitedly, couples strolling hand in hand. A carousel and a Big Wheel had been set up. Music and laughter and the whoosh of flames lifting the balloons from the ground breezed through the open window.

“More wine?” Ruben asked.

“No, I’m fine.” I set my glass on the table.

We’d enjoyed our own indoor picnic. Not because Ruben wasn’t well or that we didn’t fancy mooching around the festival, but because we could enjoy it from the comfort of his home and that was a unique experience.

“Last year they had a McLaren balloon, shaped like a Formula One car. It was huge, probably the biggest, and I think it went the fastest too.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

He reached for my hand, kissed my knuckles. “I would have organized for us to go up in one if you’d wanted to.”

“No, I don’t think I could cope with that. I like my feet firmly on the floor.”

“Of course.” He put his arm around me.

I snuggled in close, loving his body against mine. He’d only spent forty-eight hours in hospital, and then was back at work the next week. His strength had returned quickly, and we’d been spending as much time as possible together. Enjoying our new romance and the closeness that went with it. We’d both had enough of battling on alone.

“Next weekend,” I said, tracing my finger over his belly, rucking his t-shirt as I went. “My friend Felicity is getting married.”

“The girl whose hen night you went to?”

“Yes, that’s right. Well, I told her about you and…” I paused. “I don’t know if you’re up for it, but she wants you to come to the wedding. With me, as my guest.”

“And that makes you nervous.”

I looked up at him, stilled my finger. “A little.”

“Because they’ve only ever seen you with Matt?”

How did he just get that? I didn’t know, but I was grateful that he did and I didn’t need to spell it out for him. “Yes.”

“Well, you could always make up some excuse for me, say I’m off bungee jumping that weekend or something.”

“No, I want you there. I don’t want to spend the weekend without you, and besides, Matt’s gone, it’s us now, Katie and Ruben.”

“Yes.” He stroked my cheek. “It’s us now.”

“I want everyone to know it.”

“Me too.” He smiled.

“So you’ll come?”

“Absolutely. And I’ll be on my best behavior.”

I rolled my eyes. “Right, because the girls are always so well behaved.”

“What I mean is, I won’t do any of this.”

Suddenly I was on my back and he was over me. I giggled and wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his thighs. “I should think not, Mr. Strong, and certainly not in church.”

“Mmm, but maybe later, at the reception.” He pressed a kiss to my lips. He tasted of wine and the salty crisps we’d been eating. “In our hotel room, maybe then I’ll have my wicked way with you and do all the things I’ve been dreaming of doing.”

“I’ve unleashed a monster,” I said with a smile and then groaned when the hardness of his cock, through our jeans, pressed against my mound.

“You really want to see my monster?”

“I think I’d better. See if it can ever be tamed.”

He kissed me again, slanting his head and probing deep. He swept his hand up the inside of my t-shirt, squeezed my breast and then tweaked my nipple through my thin bra.

I became lost in him. Every sense was focused on Ruben; a hungry need settled between my legs.

“I want you now,” he whispered hotly. “Here.”

We’d made love several times since he’d left hospital, but in bed, at mine, quiet, slow, intense, the same as the first time. I wasn’t complaining, it was wonderful, but this was new, this was middle-of-the-day sex, and damn, I wanted some.

“Yes,” I said, “fuck me.”

He raised his head, stared down at me. A devilish smile curled his lips. “Say that again.”

“What?” I pushed his flopping hair back from his forehead.

“What you just asked me to do.”

Ah, he liked dirty talk. I could do that. “Fuck me, Ruben, fuck me now, make me come, make me scream your name.”

“Oh, Jesus.” His mouth went slack. “Get naked.” He reached for his top, yanked it off, his face now a picture of urgency.

I did the same with my t-shirt, wriggling on the sofa and then tossing the material aside.

He dipped his head to my chest, tugging at my bra.

“Oi! Get a room!” shouted a deep, bellowing but distanced voice through the window.

We both froze.

“Shit,” Ruben said, screening my body with his. “What the…?”

I looked outside. Not thirty feet from the flat was a huge basket with two men in it. A massive flame burned bright behind them, sending an orange glow over their bodies. They wore flat caps but didn’t look particularly old—one had a black moustache, the other was holding a rope.

“I have got a bloody room,” Ruben shouted. “Bugger off!”

The men laughed, the flame burned brighter, and they started to lift upward.

“Have fun,” the one with the moustache called with a wave.

“We will,” I shouted, managing to wave back as they went from view.

Ruben looked down at me. “I’m really sorry about that, I had no idea they’d come so close.”

I swatted his shoulder and grinned. “It was funny, they couldn’t believe their eyes. They thought they were going to see some action.”

“Pervs.” Ruben grinned. “Now, where were we?”

“You were just about to fuck me.”

“Damn, you have such a filthy mouth.”

“And don’t you know it.”

“Not as much as I’d like to.” He unclipped my bra, sat up and squeezed my breasts together, his thumbs toying with my nipples.

I arched into him, adoring the sensation of him touching me and gazing so adoringly at me. “So how about I tell you to get your cock out,” I said, reaching for his waistband. “Get it out and show me what you can do with it.”

“So sweet yet so dirty.” He grinned. “But hang on.” He stood, went to the window and drew the curtains. “Just in case we have any more voyeurs. I don’t want them seeing what I’m about to do with my cock.”

“I like the sound of that.” I licked my lips.

“Do you now?”

He looked tall and hot standing over me and slowly undoing the buttons on his jeans. Long arms and legs, strong fingers, the perfect spread of body hair and an air of absolute determination about him.

“You’d best take your trousers off, or they might get ripped,” he said, nodding at my jeans.

“Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.”

He rolled his eyes, groaned. “Now you’re just messing with my head, woman.”

I giggled, sat and shoved off my jeans. “I can mess with any bit of you that needs dirtying up.”

“Will this do for starters?” He fisted his cock, moved toward me and slotted one hand in my hair.

Sat on the sofa, I was the perfect height to take him into my mouth.

“As long as I still get the main course,” I said.

“You can count on that.”

I eyed the slit at the end of his dick—dark and deep. My mouth watered for the flavor of him. He held me tight, and I opened up to take what he offered.

“Ah, yeah, that’s so hot to watch.” He groaned as he sank in.

My heart was tripping. This was a new side to Ruben, more dominant, more assertive. I liked it, a lot. I could be his to do whatever he desired with; it would suit me very much. I just wanted to make him happy, and I knew full well he’d make me happy.

Thanks so much for reading, and for letting me stop by, Justine. Have a great day.

Lily x

Lily Harlem Bio

Lily Harlem is a multi-published, award-winning author of contemporary erotic romance. She lives in the UK with her husband and a bunch of animals, all rescued, and loves to spend her days immersed in imagination.

Her books are a mixture of full-length novels and short stories, some are one offs, some are sequels or part of a series (all can be enjoyed as stand-alone reads). What they each have in common are colorful characters travelling on everyone’s favorite journey — falling in love. If the story isn’t deliciously romantic and down and dirty sexy, it won’t be written, at least not by Lily. So with the bedroom door left well and truly open you are warned to hang on for a steamy, sensual ride – or rides as the case might be!

Links

Buy Links for Breathe You In

Amazon US – http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CEIXC2E

Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/Breathe-You-In-ebook/dp/B00CEIXC2E/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1366268167&sr=8-1&keywords=breathe+you+in+by+lily+harlem

Lily Harlem 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

Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/106837751333678531161/posts

Thanks for a wonderful post. I have my copy of the book and it’s gone straight into the the Top of the Pops of my TBR pile! Can’t wait to read more.

How do you choose between two perfect men? It’s like choosing your favourite music—certain pieces suit certain moods. Which mood is Lydia feeling the most?

The autumn season of the Westminster Symphony Orchestra finds Lydia unable to choose between passionate Milan and dominant Karl-Heinz—so she decides to give them both a chance. She hops from one bed to the other, trying to weigh up her options. Milan has a hold on her heart, but has never been reliable. Karl-Heinz is a good man, but what is the secret behind his strange repression? Old rivalries and new jealousies are kindled while Lydia works hard at having the time of her sex life.

No trio has ever practised quite as hard as this…But there is trouble in paradise for Ben and Vanessa, too, as a face from Vanessa’s past makes an unwelcome appearance and all seems impossible to resolve.

Amid turbulent emotions and orchestra rehearsals, the musicians work hard to negotiate a path to happiness. Will music prove to be the food of love, or a poison, infecting the future?

Reader Advisory: This book contains BDSM, MMF ménage and MM, as well as references to rape and sexual assault.

It’s available now from Total E-Bound.

Keep an eye open over the next couple of weeks – I’ll be doing some giveaways of the full series, so if you haven’t read the first two books, this could be your chance!

Thank you, Justine, for allowing me to guest post on your blog. I’ve really enjoyed reading the other posts in the series and I’m thrilled to be here .

2012 was a very good year to be British, with the Olympics, the Golden Jubilee and the Queen meeting James Bond for her (as far as we know ) first parachute jump. It’s hard to top all that.

But I really think we can.

The Jubilee is over, the Olympic Games have gone to Rio, but we still have one amazing thing that we will always have. Tamsin Flowers mentioned it in her Briterotica post, but I think it’s well worth talking about it again.

From the sublime to the ridiculous, from Shakespeare’s Sonnets (57 and 116 in particular), to Anais Nin to Fifty Sheds of Grey, the English language, wherever it is written in the world, has given us so much and so many ways to talk about love, sex and BDSM (which is what I write about) with humour, passion, joy and all shades in between.

Here is the most wonderful quote from Miria Hunter:

“If you are meant to be in the lifestyle, you will find that, where you were once only walked through life, you will be gliding on air. Parts of you that never were complete will then become whole. In relinquishing control, I have found freedom: freedom to find and be the person I am inside.”

Damn, I wish I’d written that! It’s exactly how the lifestyle makes me feel.

I love language – how it enables us to express our emotions, the different ways it can make us feel; how we, as writers, can (hope to) move readers to tears or laughter, to arouse them, excite them and leave them itching to turn the next page, to read just one more chapter. As a reader, I love to be swept up in the story, to laugh and cry and love with the characters; to enjoy the descriptions of the scenery and imagine myself there too. What a fabulous thing language is to give us all that.

I love the humour in the English language, the accents and dialects, and the differences in meaning just between one town and another here in the UK. In Accrington, for example, you can buy a teacake and have your savoury fillings put on it for lunch. In Bolton (only 12 miles away) if you ask for a teacake it has currants and sweet spices in it! In Coventry it’s a batch and depending on where else you go it’s a barm, a bap, a roll, a sub… Not quite the 100 words the Inuit apparently have for snow but getting there, and we’re only talking about bread. What amazing possibilities for writing, once you include sounds, smells, taste, touch and sight in descriptions.

Speaking of differences in language from place to place, I’m really quite new at this writing thing, however, one thing I can help with. Gemma Parkes, in her Briterotica post on 22nd March, mentioned that she’s always wary of what to call her character’s ‘rear parts’, given that in the UK we use ‘bottom’ or ‘arse’ and in the US, they tend to use ‘ass’.

Dearest friends in the US and Canada, I give you conclusive proof that you do not want to call your derriere an ass!

Picture the scene. Things are getting hot and heavy:

He pulled down her hose and slipped the silk of her panties down her legs, then cupped her buns firmly, squeezing and kneading her flesh. He slipped a finger inside her ass and she moaned, pushing back against him.  He replaced his finger with his cock, slowly pushing himself deep inside and then all the way out of her ass.

Okay, so far so good. Needs some work but it gets the point across.

Now, here’s how it reads to a British person:

He pulled down her hose (Her what?? Is she suddenly a he?) and slipped the silk of her panties down her legs, cupping her sticky cakes (huh?) firmly, squeezing and kneading her flesh. He slipped a finger inside her small donkey (ewww! And where did the donkey come from?) and she moaned, pushing back against him. He replaced his finger with his cock, slowly pushing himself deep inside and then all the way out of her small donkey. (Nooo. Just… nooooo!)

I rest my case .

Thanks very much for having me, Justine. Here’s a short excerpt from my latest WIP which will be out soon. It’s the last of three stories exploring tease and denial in a long term relationship:

You sit next to me and take my hand, stroking my palm gently with the tip of your thumb.

“Do you know what I’m going to do to you?”

I look up at you and open my mouth to speak but no sound comes out. You smile, watching me.

“Well?” Your fingers drift across the curve of my hip and I move under your hand, already aroused, so sensitive to your touch.

I moisten my lips and manage… “No, Sir.”

“Would you like me to tell you?”

I don’t know what to say. Not knowing is bad enough but knowing what is coming, waiting for every last thing… I don’t know which is worse.

“Too late,” you say, your smile deepening. “So. This is what’s going to happen to you… I’m going to  tie your hands  above your head then spread your legs and tie them in place, leaving you all exposed. And then I’m going to tease you. My fingers can wander anywhere and there will be nothing, nothing at all, that you can do about it.”

My eyes widen and I can’t stop a rush of excitement. I know I won’t be able to close my legs or protect myself and I only just manage to stop myself from squirming at the thought.

“It turns you on, doesn’t it?” you say. “The idea of being defenceless and exposed.” Your hand cups my breast and I moan softly as your fingers lightly brush my skin.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Doesn’t it?” You grab my nipple and twist it, hard.

I yelp. “Yes. Yes it does.”

My Bio:

When not writing about delicious, hot male dominants and the female subs who love them, I’m usually doing something craft-like, reading, baking, eating the results of said baking, and attempting to satisfy the demands of His High and Mighty Dominance (the cat!). My first story, Imagine, was published with Silver Moon Books last year and the new anthology will be self-published May/June this year.
You can follow me on my blog – www.liv-honeywell.com, Twitter http://www.twitter.com/LivHoneywell or Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/LivHoneywellErotica

There’s still plenty of time for that, though. She’s a free and easy download for the next couple of weeks, so if you haven’t made her acquaintance yet, now’s the time to hit her up.

She’s not the only tempting offer on UK Kindle right now, though. There’s a lovely variety of Mischief titles up for grabs. Check them out!

For Her Pleasure by Kyoko Church

Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse by Lily Harlem

Look At Me by Felix Baron

Two anthologies too – one is Forever Bound and I’m afraid I’ve forgotten the title of the other, but it’s sure to be good!

Taran took her by the waist and manhandled her into an alcove at the side of the building, hidden from the main square.

“Unhand me.” Leonore tried to squirm out of Taran’s hold, but he stood no less than six foot four and could not be eluded.

“Why?” he laughed. “Look, I don’t want a drink either. We will go and seek your mistress, although I am sure she has found a congenial dancing partner of her own.”

“Good. Thank you.”

She made another escape attempt, but Taran held firm, pinning her to the wattle and daub wall of the inn.

“Then what…?” she faltered.

“When the dance is done,” he said. “There is no use looking for her while it continues, is there?”

“I suppose not.”

“And while we wait…” He leant closer, and Leonore cursed the pulse of desire that started up within her again, overcoming her sense and her reasonable doubts about this amiable but over-forceful stranger.

“You have no right,” she whispered, but without conviction, and before she could tell him what it was he had no right to, he had taken it.

Leonore experienced the kiss of a man’s lips, for the second time that night, but Taran was no lumbering guardsman. He pressed his mouth to hers, hot and eager, as if swooping to devour a favourite dish. His face was so big, so prickly about the chin too, and he pushed her up against the wall until her neck cricked, but she was powerless to dislodge him. Powerlessness. This was it. It felt…not unpleasant, if only one could know what Taran had in mind next.

He let go her wrist and slipped his hands around her waist, clasping them in the small of her back so that his belt buckle pressed into her pelvis. It might be painful, if only she didn’t wear a quantity of Asta’s petticoats beneath her dirndl skirt.

“You look so surprised,” he said, laughing softly as he broke off. “Have you never been kissed before?”

“Not in such a manner,” said Leonore, truthfully enough.

“You should accustom yourself to it, Asta,” he said, touching his lips to cheeks and the tip of her nose. “You will be kissed a great deal. Perhaps I might follow you home to Veron.”

“Don’t be absurd. You only want a quick tumble while the town is in high spirits. Tomorrow you will have forgotten me and you’ll go about your business as if this had never been.”

“Oh, so beautiful and so cynical,” he sighed, raising his eyes skyward. “Did you learn this from your mistress?”

“I don’t want to think about what I’ve learned from my mistress. Just at this moment, I prefer the lessons you have to teach me.”

Taran’s face lit up in a wicked smile.

“Let us not think of tomorrow,” whispered Leonore, “when today is so very interesting.”

 

It’s a rough cut, folks – first draft and all that. Still, I hope it meets with your approval.

For more luscious kissing, take a look at Victoria’s site.