Wednesday, January 31, 2018

Jake meets Pixie in #midweektease #romance #detective The things people do for love #FREE this weekend

Midweek tease is from romance detective story
Jake Snow
PI Jake Snow is tired. He’s a senior investigator in the Brandt Black Private Detective Agency, but recently he’s chosen less high-powered cases to work on than he used to. He’s tired of his job, and of being single. He’s out there in the hot city nights working cases and hoping for love. A sweetheart, gorgeous, intelligent, dedicated, Jake never takes vacations, but now he’s requested leave.
Life takes a surprising twist, when just before he’s due to take his vacation, he’s sent on what he thinks is a simple surveillance assignment. What he finds is a tangled web of lies, and a fashion designer in trouble...
The question is will he also find the love he wants and needs?
An erotic, romantic, lighthearted mystery story—the things people do for love and fashion…
Read the #midweekteaser

Jake was tired. He knew if last night’s intruder came back that night it would be in the early hours of the morning. He checked the time after reading for a while—only ten o’clock. Jake tried reading again as he waited for midnight to click over. He felt his eyes close once or twice, shook himself awake, and went back to reading. He woke up with a start—it was nearly two in the morning. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Hope I haven’t missed the action.
Jake poured coffee from his flask and drank it down. He was tempted to get out of the car and walk around, but didn’t. He hadn’t checked the photographs he’d taken the night before apart from when he’d scrolled through them then. He got the camera out and was about to look at them again when he glanced up and saw a person was on the roof. Cursing softly, he leapt out of his car, and locked it on the run, as he dashed as quietly as possible for the alley, the fire escape, and the roof of the atelier.
At the building, Jake ran up the fire escape steps as the person ran across the balcony, and took a leap to the neighboring roof. Jake froze and watched for a second, then turned to run and meet them as they descended from that building. He arrived just in time, grabbed, and tackled the person to the ground. It was incredibly easy. Jake knew the intruder was slight having seen them leap, but now he knew it was a woman, and he held her carefully.
“Please don’t run. I’ll have to restrain you. You need to tell me what you’re doing on the roof.” As he said this, he helped her up, and took off the black beanie she had pulled low over her face. At the same time, he realized what she was carrying…a black satin backpack. I’ve seen that before.
She lifted her face to his and Jake let out a small sound of surprise. It was the young woman from the atelier, the one who had passed him on the stairs. “You…”
“I can explain. I need to explain. This isn’t what it looks like.”
Jake raised his eyebrows. “No?”
She stood in front of him looking dejected and disheveled.
Jake felt a wave of some emotion. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it made his voice soften and his stance kinder.
“Okay, we’ll go to my car and you can tell me your story. You know who I am?”
She nodded. Her voice was small and she slumped a little. She certainly didn’t seem dangerous or about to run.
“Jake Snow, private detective.”
Jake felt an amused smile start and squashed it.
He took her backpack from her, and held her arm to lead her along the street and through the alley to his car.
She walked silently and Jake glanced at her a couple of times wondering what was going on. She only just came up to his shoulder, and was so slender, he felt as if the arm he held could snap if he pressed too hard. He estimated her age to be a couple of years younger than he was. Her braid had come loose from the hair comb that kept it wound around her head, and now it fell down her back as she walked. Jake put her backpack on the hood of the SUV to unlock the door. He kept his hand on her arm and put her into the back seat, then bringing in the backpack, he sat alongside her.
“We’ll start with your name shall we?”
The young woman rubbed her arm.
Concern flooded him. “Did I hurt you?”
She looked sadly at him. “Not really. I think I knocked it as you felled me to the ground.”
Jake’s forehead furrowed with sorrow. “I’m sorry. Do you need medical attention?”
She shook her head. “No thanks, I’ll be okay. My name’s Pixie, Pixie Donohue. I was just checking to make sure my suspicions were correct about Graham. You see he’s stolen my designs. The dresses in his ‘secret room’ have been made up from my designs.”
Jake stared at her. “How can you prove that? He’s said the same thing—‘Someone is out to steal my designs.’ Now I find you two nights running on the atelier roof, messing about near the skylight.”
She widened her eyes. “You saw me last night?”
“Yes I saw you, and I know you took photographs, so why are you here tonight?”
She looked away from him.
Jake knew she was pretty. He’s seen that earlier in the day. Now, seeing her close up, she was so lovely he gazed at her fine skin, and her delicate cheekbones. Her full lips enticed him. Lips to kiss, bite, and suck.
Jake waited for her answer, pushing away his attraction to her.
Copyright Elodie Parkes 2017 new edition
FREE on all Amazon sites February 2, 3, 4

 HOP to the next #MWTease

Sunday, January 28, 2018

Out Now—Making Him Wait by Kay Jaybee (@kay_jaybee) #bdsmromance #erotica #eroticromance

Out Now—Making Him Wait by Kay Jaybee (@kay_jaybee) #bdsmromance #erotica #eroticromance

Kay Jaybee’s popular BDSM-romance novel is back!
Re-released by the brilliant Sinful Press, Making Him Wait, is every bit as hot the second time around.
“Erotica on a canvas of bondage and discipline.”

It’s amazing where a drive to live out your fantasies, a paint brush, and a text message can lead you...

Maddie Templeton has always been an unconventional artist. Themes of submission and domination pulse through her erotic artwork, and she's happily explored these lustful themes both on and off the canvas. But, when Theo Hunter enters her life, she is presented with a new challenge.
Maddie sets out to test his resolve as she teases, torments and toys with him. However, as Maddie drives Theo to breaking point, she soon becomes unsure whether her own resolve will hold out.
At the same time, Maddie must put on the exhibition of a lifetime. As the hottest gallery in town clamours for her best work, Maddie pushes her models harder and higher until they are physically, sexually and emotionally exhausted.
Will Maddie's models continue to submit to her, or will she push them too far? And will she be ready for the exhibition in time? The only way to find out is to wait and see...and the waiting only makes it sweeter!

The extract I have chosen to share with you today comes from the very beginning of the book...

Freya rocked a little on her bare feet as Maddie touched her lightly freckled cheek. “No need to look so worried, honey. You are doing brilliantly. It’s a difficult pose to hold for so long.”
“Thank you.” Blushing an endearing shade of pink, Freya lowered the hands she’d nervously clenched before her, giving her employer another chance to see the neat triangle of her semi-shaved pussy.
Maddie, her jeans and t-shirt smeared and spattered with all the mediums of her trade, did not feel the need to mention to Freya that her own knickers were sodden, nor that beneath her holster bra, her nipples were rock hard.
A further buzz from her mobile alerted Maddie to the arrival of another text message. In fact a steady string of muffled noises from her mobile, coming from the pit of her handbag, had been announcing the arrival of texts every ten minutes or so throughout the morning.
Smiling to herself, Maddie continued to disregard her phone and considered the exquisite outline of her companion’s porcelain frame. Most people came to Maddie to be drawn or painted, sometimes as a commission for a lover, husband or wife. Some, however, like Freya, came to the studio as a way of improving their self-confidence. Despite her generally shy demeanour, Freya had proved to be very good at posing as Maddie required and the artist had offered her an occasional job as a life model.
Sometimes Maddie felt she was more therapist than artist – specifically a sex therapist – as men and women alike shared their most intimate secrets while standing on the other side of her easel. Maddie’s studio certainly had the air of an erotic fantasy confessional about it. She wasn’t complaining, however. No other life would do for her now. The job satisfaction Maddie achieved from listening to the dreams and fantasies of others while she recreated them onto canvas, went hand in glove with the personal physical gratification it gave her.
Money being either plentiful or non-existent, depending on the current success of her commissions and sales, Maddie had been forced to develop an alternative form of payment for her models – a reward system for good work. Maddie could tell from the rise and fall of Freya’s chest and the glistening damp skin at the top of her thighs, that she was more than ready to be paid for today’s session.
Closing in on her model, Maddie simultaneously cupped Freya’s slick pussy and left breast with her charcoal-blackened hands, causing an involuntary shiver to ripple through the younger woman’s body.
“Your progress really is outstanding, honey. Few of my models can stay as motionless as you can.” Congratulating Freya on her skill, Maddie left two dark palm prints on the girl’s tits and tapped at the inside of her legs. “Open up. I think you have deserved a treat after all your hard work.”
Gliding her palm over Freya’s mound, Maddie slipped a gentle finger into the slippery canal of the model’s frantically clutching sex, enjoying the murmured mew of contentment that escaped from her lipstick-free mouth.
Pumping gently, the artist brought Freya close to orgasm with steady increases and decreases of pressure – her own mind straying to her mobile. Maddie wondered where Theo was and what he was doing. She knew what he was thinking about. She always knew that. Theo thought about her...

Praise for Making Him Wait-

“Making Him Wait” held me captive, made me blush, had me yearning for more before I was even ready to let the previous chapter go. The story unfolds dripping with eroticism, every character wantonly submitting to Maddie’s artistic, commanding eye… Erotica’s “Queen of Kink” has nailed the freedom of Kink, fearlessly. Kay Jaybee writes with a masterful insight and sucks her readers into the fascinating domain of domination and submission. A realm where one’s words must be listened to very carefully and choices are empowering.’ Rose Caraway.
Artist, lover, dominatrix, Maddie has sculpted from her surroundings the perfect life and Kay Jaybee in ‘Making Him Wait’ the picture-perfect set up for an unhurried, well-written, hugely entertaining, multi-media journey into classy erotica – men, women, whatever your fancy, Mistress Jaybee guides you through her Chinese puzzle of a plot in a way that stole my breath and made my underarms tingle…Mesmerising, thrilling, word perfect, a triumph.” Chloe Thurlow
If you would like to buy Making Him Wait, it is available as a paperback or e-book from all good retailers, including-
Amazon (universal link):

Kay Jaybee has over 150 publications to her name, including the novels Making Him Wait, (Sinful Press, second edition, 2018), and The Fifth Floor - The Perfect Submissive Book One (KJ Books, third edition, 2017). She has also written the novellas Wednesday on Thursday (KJ Books, 2017), Take Control (1001Nights Press, 2014), Digging Deep, (Xcite Press, 20153), A Sticky Situation (Xcite Press, 2013), and Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man (1001 Nights Press, 2014). She has written the anthologies The Collector (KJBooks, 2016), and A Kink a Day Books 1-3 (available via the Radish reading app).
Details of Kay’s work, past, present and future can be found at
Kay also writes contemporary romance and children’s picture books as Jenny Kane  and historical fiction as Jennifer Ash

Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services

Saturday, January 27, 2018

Friday, January 26, 2018

Get ready for #eroticromance #anthology Down and Dirty with the #CoverReveal

 #CoverReveal Get in, Get Out, Get DOWN AND DIRTY

22 Brand New stories from some of your favorite contemporary romance authors and Romance Rebels Publishing.... 
Down & Dirty
Get in, get down...and get filthy with these sexy, hardworking, blue-collar heroes who don't mind when things get a little dirty while at work or at play. This collection of 22 brand new stories from USA Today and International Best-Selling authors is full of scorching hot romance tales that will be sure to leave you breathless for more. These men work hard, and play even harder. 
From cops to mechanics, and miners to brewmasters, they aren't afraid to go all in. At the end of the day, when they find the woman who completes them, they learn that love and life can be just as messy as their day job...and they wouldn't have it any other way. 
Featuring stories from: Lori King, Maia Dylan, Sarah Marsh, Elena Kincaid, Cecile Tellier, London Saint James, Bella Settara, Rose Nickol, RL Merrill, Ashley Malkin, Lucy Felthouse, Scarlett J. Rose, Sydney Lea, CR Moss, Samantha A. Cole, Danielle James, Ava Campbell, Eva Moore, Kimberlie L. Faye, Sabrina Sol, Nikki Prince, and Mia Hopkins! 

Preorder Down & Dirty for just 99 cents! 


►AMAZON-Coming February!◄

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

One hot, New Orleans summer Drew's life of fun and romance is about to change #midweektease #erotica #NSFW

This week the #midweektease #MWTease is from
Clip my Wings
erotica, contemporary romance with a sprinkle of magic

Gorgeous Drew loves the ladies. One hot New Orleans summer his life of fun and romance is about to change.

Marianne owns and runs a new age shop. She sells her spells and potions

aware of Drew's conquests and sometimes she wishes he'd look her way.

Magic is in the air. A series of events will unfold that changes everything.

An erotic romance, full of sex, romance and magic, this short story will delight.

Read the #MWTease

Drew was almost at the end of the tour he’d conducted that afternoon. He’d answered the usual questions about the reason the graves were above ground because of the high water table. He’d talked about the rumors of spooks and black magic and, all the while, he’d given signals to the two young women in the group, a blonde and a redhead, and that was the way he thought of them later as he fucked them.
The women gave him signals too. I like you. I want you.
He flashed his eyes. I’m hard for you … only you. Meet me after the tour. He waited at the gates for them to stop, linger nearby, and then he’d swoop.
“Hi, you’re still here.” He treated them to his gorgeous smile. “Let me guess. You’re not sure how to get back to base, or you’re hoping I know where to get ice cream.” He looked at them, giving his silent approval, his desire rippling in his balls.
The young women smiled. Their eyes darkened at him. Their gaze traveled over his body. One even stared openly at his crotch.
Drew recognized the looks they gave him. They were out to get him—both of them, and it was going to be easy. His cock stirred, and as one girl eyed his jeans zipper, a bulge formed there. Drew gave the young women a sweet look.
“I have ice cream at my place.”
As he drove to Marianne’s house where he lived, the girl in the passenger seat unzipped his jeans, and stroked his cock into a huge erection. The girl seated behind him sucked on his earlobe. Drew forced himself to concentrate on the traffic. His cock leaked. The young woman smeared the soft liquid around the helmet head, and Drew gasped his appreciation.
He never asked their names. He brought them to his bedroom and stripped each one in turn, taking his fill of pleasure from sucking and kneading the blonde one’s breasts as the redhead sucked his cock. The rush of need for an orgasm crashed through him.
He finger-fucked the blonde until she came, groaning into his mouth. He laid her on the bed and turned his attention to the redhead. His cock was so hard, and leaking so much, he expected to lose it any second and spurt his seed up his stomach. He kissed her mouth once, turned her, bent her over the bedside chest, and took her from behind. His hips hammered as he grasped her soft ass. Her moans drifted through the fugue of desire that gripped him. As she came, gasping and moaning, so did he with a massive thrust of his cock into her tight, wet pussy. He collapsed over her back and laid his head on her shoulder. The blonde smiled at him, as she lay propped on one elbow watching the show. Drew smiled right back at her.
He pulled out and found his jeans to drag on.
“That was so good, sweethearts, but I have to get back to work.”
They dressed, but the redhead wanted some communication.
“You never introduced yourself. At the start of the tour, you said you were our guide, but never told us your name.”
Through Drew’s mind ran the phrase, Hi, My name’s Drew and I’m a sex addict. Unexpectedly, a desire to be more than that, not to focus on just the sex, took hold in his heart. He told them his name and asked theirs.
“My name’s Drew. Tell me your names.” He sat on the edge of his bed and watched as they took turns to straighten their hair and replace lip-gloss. They spoke to his reflection in the freestanding mirror in the corner of his bedroom.
“I’m Sue,” the blonde one told him, combing her hair.
“I’m Bernadette.” The redhead grinned as she paused in applying the pink goop to her sex-rosy lips.
Drew liked that. “Hey, Bernadette suits you so well. It goes with that lovely red hair.”
She advanced on him and kissed him softly. “Thank you for the compliment. You’re very good-looking too, but I suppose you know that.”
Drew caught the expression on Sue’s face through the mirror. Amusement about something played at the corner of her mouth. She joined her friend to kiss him briefly.
“We need to go now. Lovely to meet you, Drew.” She took Bernadette’s hand and they walked to the door.
Drew followed and they clattered down the stairs to the hallway.
“I’ll drop you somewhere.” Drew reasoned he must have brought them a distance from their accommodation.
Bernadette turned to him. “No need. We know the area. We’ll walk.”
Sue gave Drew a secretive smile as Bernadette led her off along the sidewalk.

He shrugged, something’s going on there, but who cares, it’s a great afternoon. Hunger suddenly sent him to the fridge. He pulled out cold chicken, salad, and found bread rolls. He popped a piece of chicken into his mouth to eat as he made his meal.
Copyright Elodie Parkes 2017
Clip my Wings will be FREE on all Amazon sites January 26, 27, and 28
If you love something hot and with a surprising twist don't forget to download Clip my Wings

HOP to the next #MWTease

Wednesday, January 10, 2018

Out Now! Buried Pleasures (Medusa’s Consortium series book 3) by K D Grace @kd_grace #newrelease #urbanfantasy #uf

When Samantha Black shares her sandwich with a dog, his owner, Jon—a homeless man living in the Las Vegas storm tunnels—gives her a poker chip worth a fortune from the exclusive casino, Buried Pleasures. All Sam has to do is cash it in. Sam is in Vegas for one reason only—to get her friend, Evie Holt, away from sinister magician, Darian Fox, who holds her prisoner in an effort to force Sam to perform at his club, Illusions. A neon circus tent of strange and mystical acts, Illusions is one of the biggest draws in Vegas, and he’s hell-bent on including Sam in his disturbing plans.
The shadowy Magda Gardener will do anything to keep Sam from cashing in that chip. She knows that Buried Pleasures is the gate to Hades and cashing in the chip is a one-way ticket across the River Styx, which runs beneath the storm tunnels of Vegas. Jon is really Jack Graves, owner of Buried Pleasures, and Graves is really the god of death, himself, and if things aren’t already confusing enough, he and Magda know what Sam doesn’t. Sam is the last siren. That her song can kill is only the beginning of her story. Jon wants her safe on his side of the River, protected from Fox’s hideous magic. But even Death fears Magda Gardener, who is none other than Medusa, and the gorgon has her own agenda. If Sam is to understand her heritage and win the battle against Darian Fox, not only will she have to trust her heart to Death, but they’ll both have to work for the gorgon, whose connection with Sam runs deeper than any of them could imagine.

Buy links:
Amazon (universal link):

Read an Excerpt:
The mind-boggling project designed to offer flood protection to a city built on bedrock and totally surrounded by mountains had begun in the seventies. The individual segments reminded her of giant hollow Lego blocks made of concrete. Originally there was to be over a thousand miles of tunnels beneath Sin City. They were all designed to channel the waters of any flash flood that threatened the financial heart of the city into Lake Mead, some thirty miles away. The project was never finished, but there were still an impressive two hundred miles of storm tunnels beneath the city, and they now provided shelter for the homeless who didn’t mind playing the odds that their meager belongings wouldn’t get washed away in the next deluge. They also had provided a hiding place for murderers and thieves and who knew what else?
And apparently God hung out down here, too. Who could have guessed? Though she didn’t see any of the dreaded scorpions she’d heard so much about, she imagined she could hear them skittering across the floor in the dark. “Ever been stung by one? Scorpion, I mean,” she asked absently.
“They don’t bother me much,” came the reply.
She saw the graffiti on the walls as well as if she’d been walking in the sunshine, and yet the darkness around her was almost a physical thing, a thought that almost made her laugh, since it was obvious she no longer had the physical capability for feeling it.
Did the dead sleep? She only wondered because it seemed that she slept or lost consciousness, or just drifted off for a while. Maybe eventually she would lose consciousness altogether and that would be the end of it. Maybe the whole recycling thing just took a while to kick in. Strange, that thought didn’t disturb her either. Still, Jon had said she was going to a very nice place. When she woke up, if that’s what she did, she came to herself hearing the click, click, click of the dog’s toenails on the concrete.
To her surprise the surroundings had changed. There was water – not just the constant water on the floor of the storm tunnels, but more like a lake or a reservoir. A boat rocked gently at the end of a stone dock in front of them. For a moment she thought they had ended up at the Venetian with its canals and boats. But there were no red and white striped poles, and the boat wasn’t right. It was broader, higher prowed.
As she took in her surroundings, she saw that they were still underground, and she remembered reading somewhere that at one time the whole basin in which Las Vegas was built had been a large inland sea, and that there was still a sea of water beneath the bedrock. She’d heard that people who built homes outside the city and drilled wells down through the bedrock had an endless supply of fresh water, even in the dry desert.
They were walking toward the boat, her body still safely carried in Jon’s arms with her consciousness still floating above.
A man she assumed to be the boatman stood waiting for them. He was dressed in a flowing dark cloak, his face obscured completely beneath a deep hood. As he looked down at her body in Jon’s arms, what little light there was caught the shine of his eyes just enough to dispel the disturbing sense that the hood was empty.
After a long silence, he looked up at Jon and shook his head. “I can’t take her,” he said, examining her limp body. “You know the rules.” His voice was like the scratching of dry twigs in a storm, and no matter how hard she listened, she heard no breath, no heartbeat. For some reason that disturbed her far less than the fact that she couldn’t see his face.
“Take me where? Where are we going?”
The two men ignored her.
“Know the rules? I wrote the damned rules,” Jon said, and once again she felt the vibration of his voice in spite of being separated from her flesh.
“Then you know if she hasn’t cashed in the chip, I can’t take her.”
“Take me where? Are you coming too?” she asked Jon. Still she got no reply.
“What the hell do you mean, she hasn’t cashed in her chip? Dancy delivered her right to the door to do just that.”
“He’s right,” Sam agreed, though she was no longer sure the men could even hear her. How long had she been dead now? Would Jon cease to be aware of her at all after she’d been dead for a while? He wouldn’t if he were God, she reasoned. “Some woman named Magda Gardener told me I should wait till tomorrow. I shouldn’t have listened to her,” she added. “I wouldn’t be dead now if I had gone ahead and cashed in the chip like I wanted to.”
But the two men still didn’t respond. She was beginning to suspect that being dead was going to be a major pain in the ass.
Jon carefully laid her down on the cool mosaic floor. She only now realized that it was mosaic, something with an astrological motif, she thought, her cheek pressed against the dark bicep of the Sagittarian archer. Her attention was drawn away from the mosaic when Jon slid his hand into her pocket and pulled out the chip. It glowed golden in his hand as he turned it over and over again. She didn’t remember it doing that when she held it. Probably just a trick with the lights.
“Should have cashed it in when I had the chance,” she said. “You can have it back if you want. It won’t help me now, will it?”
He simply stuck it back in her pocket and cursed under his breath. Then he stood and paced back and forth in front of the boatman. “Well that’s a damned inconvenience, isn’t it?”
The boatman nodded beneath his hood. “Sure as hell is. I was expecting her. She had reservations. Had everything ready for her, just like you said. Looks like I made the trip for nothing.” He shrugged, and the cape rustled as it settled back around his body. “Not like I have anything else to do, I guess.”
For a moment the two men stood in silence, looking down at Sam’s body resting against the mosaic of the archer. Then the boatman heaved a hard-put-upon sigh and asked, “What will you do now?”
“Take her back,” Jon replied, and the dog whined softly and plopped down next to her. “I have to, don’t I? She would have been happier here, and safe,” he added as an afterthought.
“Pity,” the boatman said. “Gonna be a rough ride for her now. You know I’d take her if I could.” He nodded across the expanse of water, and for the first time, Sam realized she couldn’t see the other shore.
“Oh, I don’t blame you, Chuck,” Jon said. “You’re just doing your job.” The dog offered a soft woof of agreement.
“You think that bitch, Magda, had anything to do with the mix-up?” the boatman asked.
“Oh, I have no doubt.” Jon ran a warm hand along Sam’s cheek and she was surprised that she could still feel it. “Well, nothing for it now. Can I borrow your cloak? She’ll be cold when she returns, and it’s a long way back.”
“Of course.” The man shed his cloak in a sharp snap that sounded like the canvas of a sail slapping in the wind and, in that instant, the world went black and Sam could no longer see the tunnel around them. For a moment she had that feeling of falling, the kind of falling that jerks you awake from the dream world to find that no, you’re still safe and sound on your bed. Only it was more of a rough and tumble, as though she were struggling with the fall, somehow being tossed about, riding first a rollercoaster, then bouncing high on a trampoline, then being dragged feet-first down steep stairs, her head banging on each step.
She yelped and reached out desperately to feel Gus’s soft fur close to her body and, as she groped in the darkness, her hand came to rest first on Jon’s chest and then on his stubbled face. And there was substance—her hand, flesh and bone, touching flesh and bone. His breath was warm against her cheek, and the smell of ozone and deep forest peaked as he whispered, “It’ll be all right, Samantha. Don’t be frightened. It’ll be all right. I have you now. You’re with me.”
Then his lips brushed hers and she wrapped her arms around his neck with the urgency of one who was afraid of falling. His breath! She tasted his breath, she needed his breath. She had none of her own, and the rising panic felt as though it would smother her with its weight. “Shh, Samantha, shh! I have you now. You’ll be all right.” He spoke softly against her lips. “You’ll be fine. I promise.”
She clawed at him, desperate to hang on, desperate to breathe, fighting claustrophobic dizziness that felt as though she were being sucked down a drainpipe.
She might have screamed or she might have only imagined it, but Jon kept up a soothing, soft chatter that she struggled to understand above the ringing in her ears. Then she felt like she was being shoved back in her body, down her own throat and up under her ribcage, a suitcase being hastily stuffed over-full, as though somehow she had expanded in her time outside herself. In the beginning, she was certain she was being suffocated, but when she gasped the first blessed breath of air, it was accompanied by a bright flash of searing pain, and the lights went out with her clutched in the arms of the homeless man, the dog whining softly at her side.

Author Bio:

Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, K D Grace believes Freud was right. It really IS all about sex—sex and love—and that is an absolute writer’s playground.
When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening or walking. Her creativity is directly proportional to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She loves mythology, which inspires many of her stories. She enjoys time in the gym, where she’s having a mad affair with a pair of kettle bells. Her first love is writing, but she loves reading and watching birds. She adores anything that gets her outdoors.
K D’s novels and other works are published by Totally Bound, SourceBooks, Accent Press, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, and others. She also writes romance under the name Grace Marshall.

Find K D Here:                                                                   

Release blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services

Friday, January 5, 2018

Travel frees us to take risks. Vows: Asian Adventures Book 3 New #Multicultural #EroticRomance from @LisabetSarai

New Release!
Asian Adventures Book 3
By Lisabet Sarai

Contemporary multicultural bisexual erotic romance (X rated)
7,400 words
Smashwords and Amazon KDP
ISBN: 9781370254026 (Smashwords)
HFN ending

The more you try to release desire, the more attached you become.

Travel brings out a strange recklessness in my wife, a hunger for extremes that I don’t see when we’re in New York. I would never have acted on my desire for male flesh if she hadn’t bullied me into my first homosexual encounter. Not that I regret it. I’ll never forget that incandescent night with the audacious young punk she bought for me in Amsterdam.

Now, she wants us to seduce the achingly beautiful Buddhist monk we’ve met in Luang Prabang. I try to reject her suggestions, to resist temptation. But I can’t banish the images of Souvannaphone— ripe lips curved in a half-smile, brown eyes sparkling with gentle challenge, smooth curves of golden flesh that cry out to be kissed. I yearn for his body—and his serenity.

Buy Links

PG Excerpt

We strolled northeast toward the far end of the peninsula, where Wat Xieng Thong was situated. The jewel of Luang Prabang, according to our guidebook. We had visited several of the other famous temples in the city. I had been saving this one for last.

Dani took my hand as we made our way through the quiet streets, in the lengthening shadow of Phu Si hill. “Relax,” she said.  “Don’t worry. I’ll handle things. Just leave everything to me.”
That was exactly what I was worried about.

The vegetation thickened around us as we left the city center behind. We passed rough wooden houses on stilts, chickens scrabbling in the shade underneath, laundry swaying in the gentle breeze. Occasionally, we heard the muted babble of a television or radio, but we saw no one. It felt as though the whole of the city-village was dozing in the afternoon. I took a deep breath, and then another, trying to release the awful tension that gripped me, but it was no use. I was consumed by desire and dread.

Finally we reached the arched gateway to Wat Xieng Thong. Souvannaphone’s home. Gilded nagas, the serpent-dragons that sheltered the Buddha while he meditated, guarded the entry, their scales a riot of multi-colored mirrors. As we stepped over the sill and into the sacred compound, I felt something shift inside me. The choice was made, the effects would follow. Let karma do its worst.

At first, the place seemed deserted. Directly in front of us was the magnificent sim, or ordination chapel, with its five-layered, flame-tipped roof swept into dramatic earthward curves. Smaller but equally ornate buildings were scattered around it. Blue tile and gold leaf were everywhere.

An enormous, fantastically-twisted tree shaded the entire courtyard. At the same moment —I could tell from the way her hand tightened in mine—Dani and I noticed the figure seated, full lotus, on the turf at the foot of its main trunk.

It was, of course, Souvannaphone. His eyes were closed; his chest was bare. The golden, hairless flesh fascinated me. His nipples, more bronze than gold, drew my eyes and made my balls contract and ache.

It was his expression, though, that once again brought up my tears. It gave me a glimpse of total peace. Bliss. Perfect stillness and unearthly beauty. My craving to know his exquisite body faded and transformed into exquisite longing to know what he knew, to experience this state of completion.

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai has been addicted to words all her life. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (, along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (, she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.  Sign up for her VIP email list here: