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Sex Up Your Sunday with Tamsin Baker!

7/30/2017

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Happy Sunday! Hope everyone's had a great weekend. I spent yesterday in London seeing my first ballet - Swan Lake, by the Mariinsky Ballet. Seeing a ballet has been on my wish-list for years, and it was really, truly amazing. I can't wait to see my next one!

Meanwhile, here on the blog, we've got gargoyles! I've always loved the idea of a gargoyle romance and I snapped up Tamsin Baker's new release as soon as it came out. Want to find out more? Then read on!
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The Gargoyles of New York, 1

As a Gargoyle shifter of New York City, Roman and his four brothers sit on top of the city library all day in their stone form, watching and waiting. On sun down they come alive and that is when Roman feels the tug towards his Beloved—the woman who he will be united to.

Christiana is a waitress in a dead end life. One night a man with silver eyes and the most incredible aura, walks into her restaurant and changes her life. She is thrown into a world with paranormal creatures she doesn’t understand, and a bond that is impossible to break.

When the rogues come to destroy Roman and his brothers while defenseless and sleeping, will Christiana reach inside herself to protect the man she’s come to love?

Available now from Evernight/Amazon US/Amazon UK
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Excerpt:
I fly up and around the huge buildings that crowd my beautiful city. New York has changed a lot in the century I’ve watched the city grow. Horses and carts have been replaced by brightly colored machines, and the small, multi-storied houses and shops have been knocked down to make way for buildings that scrape the sky.

Fuck … what’s that?

My heart begins to pound in my chest, like a galloping horse towards the final flag.


I fly lower, a strange heat filling up my belly, weakening my body until I fall to the ground, my wings folding into my back, invisible to the human eye.


A light shines out of a shop window, and I walk forward to see what my heart wants me to find. I stop and I stare, unable to stop myself from watching the woman serving a table in a restaurant.


She has wildly curly long red hair.


The word untamable comes to mind.


She smiles at the couple, and I drop to my knees, light piercing my chest as both pain, and the most incredible pleasure filters through me.


My Beloved. She’s my one and only.


I take a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart. The poor organ wants to jump right out of my chest.


I know. Relax. I know. I’ll get her.


Beloveds are often fragile humans, but once the union is completed, she will become immortal. Like me.


I push myself to my feet, my head feeling strangely drunk as I stagger to the door of the restaurant.

No one has ever prepared me for how this would feel. I’d always thought I’d see my Beloved, I’d kiss her, talk her into living forever. Done.


I’ve never experienced a true romantic love before, and although I’d known it, the feelings flooding my body now, confirm it. My connection to my brothers was the only true thing I have ever felt. But this … this is something else.


I fall into a black chair, my legs weak and wobbly. I grab for the menu. Gargoyles could eat only meat, the rarer the better. Almost everything else makes us very sick.


“Hello… Can I help you?” The waitress, my Beloved, stands over me with eyes the size of swimming pools.


Can she feel the connection? The pull to me? I hope so.


Find more of Tamsin's work here!
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Wednesday Snippet - I don't want to kick your ass today

7/26/2017

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So! Over the weekend I finished and submitted Vandal to Evernight. Yay! In order to keep myself from panicking over acceptances/rejections and frantically checking my emails every ten seconds like the well-adjusted writer I am, I dove into Wild Blood MC 3, Slater's Claim. And I love it already! I adore writing MC romances, I love my Wild Blood boys, and I love everything I have planned for this book and future books. Writing time has been sparse so far this week, but I'm about 3k in and having a fabulous time. So naturally, I want to share some of it with you! Enjoy ;)
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The cold beers went without saying at the converted mill that Wild Blood MC called home. The club girls hadn’t been part of the funeral, and they’d used the time to make sure the clubhouse was ready for the brothers when they returned. Bottles of beer, dripping with ice water, sat out on the bar. The mill was redolent with the scent of good soul food – Judge’s favourite. Buttermilk fried chicken spiked with cayenne and paprika. Jambalaya heavy with garlic and sausage. Slater even saw peach cobbler. It all looked mouth-watering. Roxy would be touched that the girls had gone to so much effort.

As for the girls themselves, well, yeah, they’d be warm enough. But he wasn’t looking to get laid today. And frankly, if he had been, none of the club girls would have called to him. They were all nice enough – good lookers, willing, fun – but he’d never been one for casual sex. He was too jealous, Punk always told him. Too possessive and too demanding. Slater didn’t think that was true. He just liked things to be straightforward and casual sex with girls who were vying for the attention of the rest of the club…didn’t feel straightforward.

Punk had no such reservations. He peeled away from Slater as they entered, making a beeline for Taylor, one of the newest girls. She was a classic blonde bombshell, the kind of curvy, giggly girl Punk always found irresistible. A safe bet, a woman like that. The only kind of safe bet Punk ever made.

Like a good prospect, Slater took up position behind the bar, serving drinks to the fully-patched in brothers who drifted his way. Nobody had asked him to do it, but he always made a point of not waiting to be asked. He’d come to the MC later than most and at his age, he was long past the point where he accepted being ordered around by anyone. So he acted before the orders came, when he could.

He poured himself a bourbon on the rocks and scanned the clubhouse. Roxy and Elena were nowhere to be seen, but Nash was sat on one of the couches by the pool tables, next to Rattler, Wild Blood’s Sergeant at Arms. The two men looked deep in earnest conversation, Rattler nodding as Nash gestured. They tended to rub each other up the wrong way most of the time. Rattler was part of the old guard, from before Nash had joined the club and become President. Wild Blood had a rough past and Nash had cleaned it up. Rattler didn’t particularly approve, from what Slater gathered. The sight of them talking so intimately put him on high alert.

Rattler would make a decent VP. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Congeniality, but Nash needed someone who would push back against him from time-to-time. Slater made a mental note to ask Punk if he had any money on Rattler.

Brothers and women drifted to and from the bar, and Slater served them all on auto-pilot, feeling numb at the core and wishing he could leave. Funerals, after a point, all became the same, and the public mourning made him uncomfortable. It felt…showy, after a while, like everyone was competing to be the most mournful.

The sound of a bottle slamming on the counter jerked him from his reverie, and he looked up to see Tanner reaching for a bowl of hushpuppies. Glancing past Tanner, Slater saw his Old Lady, Beth, huddled in a corner with Tanner’s sister. Melissa had one arm around Beth’s waist and Beth rested her head on Melissa’s shoulder. They both looked drawn, but Beth looked straight-up fragile, like a quick summer storm would wash her away.

“She okay?” Slater asked, nodding to Beth. Maybe this was too much for her, too many people, too much emotion. Her background was a strange one and Slater wouldn’t have blamed her if this was overwhelming.

Tanner glanced back at Beth, face contorted with worry. “She liked Judge a lot. And – I dunno.” He shrugged, looking lost. “We haven’t heard from her sister in a while. Her folks don’t contact her much anyway, but Hannah’s different. It’s not like her to fall off the radar.”

Punk slid onto the barstool next to Tanner’s, catching the last of his words. “Her folks are God-freaks though, right? they’re probably keeping Hannah under lock and key so Beth can’t corrupt her pure, virginal soul.”

Slater glared at Punk, too late to silence him. Tanner gripped his beer bottle so hard his knuckles turned white, and for a second Slater really thought he might lamp Punk with it. But then he relaxed his grip and picked up another hushpuppy.
​

“Shut the fuck up, man,” Tanner said with more misery than heat. “I don’t want to kick your ass today.”
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Sex Up Your Sunday with April Zyon!

7/23/2017

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Happy Sunday, folks! Hope you've all had a good one so far. I spent yesterday finishing up Vandal, and I'm now waiting anxiously to hear if it'll make it into Evernight's next anthology. So obviously I need a distraction. And that's why I'm pleased to welcome April Zyon to the blog today with her new release, LOST FAITH. Let's dive right in!

About Lost Faith: 


Gabriella Moreno was just a job, in and out to gain the objective, the death of her father. She turned out to be far more than that to Tobias Casey, however, from the moment he laid his hands on her too hot for words body.

Gabriella had just come home from a two-year stint abroad. The first night home she snuck out, never dreaming for even a moment anyone would be stupid enough to take her. Boy, was she wrong.

Faced with brutal truths, Gabbie followed her gut, and her heart, which, it seemed, all led to one place, Tobias. The heat of her homeland was nothing compared to the touch of this man. In his arms, she found something she had craved all her life, the other half of her soul.

Yet, how can she ignore the fact that the man who owns her heart is also the man who wants to take the last of her family?

Find it here: 

Kindle Unlimited for FREE! 

Amazon US     |     Amazon CA     |     Amazon UK     |     Amazon AU


Teaser


Another day, another dollar. Only these days, Tobias and his team were getting paid a hell of a lot more than they had been in the military. Now they could set their own fees for doing the jobs that no one else wanted to do, or maybe couldn’t do, since they did on rare occasion work for their government’s shadier sectors. But there was no oversight, no backseat driving, and they paid big to get shit done.
Their current operation was one they’d been working on for nearly three weeks now with no success. The first week had been recon, getting oriented, and making sure they had their exits memorized for when they achieved their strike.
The only thing was, as they’d discovered during week two, the target they were after didn’t ever leave his super secure compound. Not that Tobias could blame the guy. Their target was a dictator, an arms dealer, a drug dealer, and a mass murderer. There were people worldwide hoping that Tobias’ team finally managed to do what no one else had to date.
Now it was week three and they were still watching the compound to figure out their way in. Or as Tobias was beginning to believe would be easier, how to get the asshole to come out. They’d tried forty different ways to infiltrate the compound. None had worked. Which actually made sense, given the target, Juan Moreno, or Senor X as they referred to him over com, had hired himself an ex-Special Forces soldier to be the head of his security. Tran Quan was American born but had ties to the Yakuza. Extra weight to be brought to bear should it be requested.
Taking a small drink from his canteen, Tobias ignored the sweat trickling down his spine. His attention was locked on a small group of vehicles approaching the compound. Binoculars up, he brought the lead car into focus and easily recognized one of Moreno’s drivers.  His attention moving to the second car, he was surprised to see Quan in the front passenger seat. The man was normally glued to Moreno’s side so to see him out without Moreno… this was big.
“Ripper, we have four cars approaching the compound. I need to know who exits the second car once they stop inside. Get pictures.”
“Roger that, Rogue.”
Ripper and Cherry were up on the mountain using some seriously high-powered tools to stare down into the compound. Their position was treacherous since they were, literally, dangling off the face of that mountain. One wrong move and they’d be headed straight down toward death.
“They’re turning toward the gate now. Not stopping either, they’ve been waved right through,” Tobias reported. The gates slid shut but not before he spotted a slender leg wearing a dainty shoe at the end slipping out of the door being opened by a guard. Instantly, he felt his gut clench in need to see the body went with that limb.
A soft whistle came through the com. “Damn, she’s fucking hot. Think she’s banging senor X?” Herc asked.
“Too young for him, you oaf,” Cherry said.
“Like that would stop the old fucker. We all know he doesn’t care about age. One of the reasons why we’re here to see him shot,” Herc told her. “Personally, it’s my only reason to see his head explode under the impact of my bullet.”
“Cut the chatter. Tell me you have photos for everyone that came in those vehicles.”
“Confirmed,” Ripper said.
“Good, get your asses down from there. Scout will be here to relieve me soon, then we need to get back and review everything.” Tobias was hopeful that somewhere in those photos he might find a way to pull Moreno away from his security blanket.

* * * *

“It’s his daughter, Gabriella Moreno.” Rainer said. His words had everyone’s attention. Tobias couldn’t figure out who was more shocked. Turning in his seat Rainer shook his head. “I had to dig, and dig deep. The old man has her buried.”
“Makes sense,” Winston muttered. “She’s his Achilles.”
He was right. “We need to keep eyes on her. If we get the opportunity, she’ll be the one we grab. I have a feeling that even with all his enemies gunning for him, he’ll do anything to protect her.” All they had to do was get their hands on her and use her to bait Senor X.
Picking up the picture Rainer had printed out Tobias stared at it. It wasn’t a shot from the compound but one he’d pulled from social media. Gabriella had her head tipped back, laughing at something or someone. She looked carefree and totally at ease. Young, too.
The young woman was just over five foot three inches but those come fuck me heels made her closer to five feet seven, she was thin but not waiflike like so many of the women today. Her hair however, was a riot of auburn red curls that seemed to have a mind of their own, and she didn’t bother trying to tame them. Which said something about the woman herself. She might not have the largest breasts that he had seen in his life but hers seemed to work her body perfectly, like a perfect handful, that distracted him completely.
“We need everything on her from birth until the moment she went through those gates, Rainer. Leave no stone unturned. I think we’ve just found our hot button for daddy Moreno. We grab her and he’ll deliver himself right to us.”
“You sure you want to do that, boss?” Cherilyn asked. At his sharp look, she held up her hands. “I’m down with it, but even if she does leave the compound, you know she’ll have a taskforce worth of guards with her. No way is Moreno letting her out in this country without protection up the ass.”
“And we’ll be ready for that. Our best shot will be if she goes into the city. It’ll allow us to blend in and when the time’s right, grab her up.” At Cherilyn’s snort, Tobias turned a glare on her. “What?”
“Dude, no offense or nothing, but you do not blend.”
Rainer was shaking his head. “I have to agree with her, boss. You tend to stick out.”
“I can blend just fine, I’ll have you know.”
“You keep thinking that. In the meantime, I think I’ll update the other boys and we can add their hilarity to the vote count against you.” Cherilyn patted his chest, walked past, and promptly burst out in laughter.
“I can and will fire your ass,” Tobias called after her.
“No, you won’t,” she bellowed back.
No, he wouldn’t, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t think about it, in great detail.



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Wednesday Snippet - Vandal

7/19/2017

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So I am really flying through what will hopefully be my submission to Evernight's next anthology. Some stories just beg to be written, and Vandal is one of them. I've written 8k so far this week, and another 7k should wrap it up. That seems a pretty doable goal for the rest of the week, given how easy the writing has been so far. If I can finish it and submit it by Sunday, I'll then be ready to crack on with Wild Blood MC 3.

Anyway! I figured since it's all going so swimmingly, I might share a peek at Vandal with you today. Enjoy!
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​“Now then,” Johnny said once everyone was seated. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that there’s some heat on the Black Dogs right now that makes them…unreliable for me in a few avenues. And you don’t need to tell me how lucrative the drug trade is in this town.” He frowned slightly, probably irked that he’d never been able to make any in-roads with it before. “So it seems to me we have some useful skills to offer each other, True.”
 
“I’ve always thought so,” True said. “So let’s not waste time dancing around.”
 
The deal-making began in earnest. Vandal tried to focus solely on True and Johnny, but his attention kept whirling back to Niall, whose gaze never left him. The inevitability of a clash ground at Vandal. But Jesus fucking Christ, surely Niall wouldn’t start something here? And if he did, could True salvage the meeting? Vandal drummed his fingers on the table, edgy and close to breaking point. Sitting across the table from the man who’d abused Tara was a worse torture than anything he could have dreamed up. He wanted to fight Niall. Wanted to shove his fist directly down the bastard’s throat.
 
And he couldn’t. It was agony.
 
“Stop that,” Niall said suddenly, interrupting his father mid-sentence. With the way he was glaring at Vandal, nobody could mistake who he was talking to. All eyes fell on Vandal.
 
He drummed his fingers harder. “Stop what?”
 
“Niall,” Johnny said.
 
Niall ignored him. “Are you an asshole or a fucking moron?” he asked Vandal.
 
Vandal held his red-hot glare, still drumming his fingers. “I’m an asshole, pal. Which are you?”
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Sex Up Your Monday with Lucy Felthouse!

7/17/2017

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Morning all! Happy Monday! How's it going? I was working manically on Vandal yesterday, so didn't get around to putting up this post, but maybe it's better today. Nothing to beat the Monday blues like a good dose of werewolves and romance! So say hello to Lucy Felthouse!
Blurb:

Politics has never been so sexy!

Cade Avery is running for a position on his local county council. He’s extremely good at what he does and is a valuable asset to his community. The trouble is, he upsets people, says the wrong things, and rides rough-shod over other people’s plans and ideas. His assistant, Mary, eager to improve Cade’s public image, hires him a campaign manager.

Quentin Rayworth is thrilled to be working with such a formidable public figure. It’ll be a challenge, but he’s confident he can help Cade to win the election, and knows that the achievement will look impressive on his CV.

It’s soon clear that the two men are set to be an excellent team. That is, until Cade’s werewolf makes its intentions known—in Quentin, it has found its mate, and it will not rest until he has claimed him. But can Cade—and his wolf—win over the campaign manager?

Buy links (other retailers coming soon):
Amazon (universal link): http://mybook.to/WTCM
Evernight Publishing: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/winning-the-campaign-manager-by-lucy-felthouse/
BookStrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/winning-the-campaign-manager-mm
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35581577-winning-the-campaign-manager

*****



Excerpt:

“You’ve done what?” Cade Avery yelled, fixing his long-time friend and colleague, Mary Summers, with a glare. He slammed his hands down on his desk, making a bunch of pens jump and rattle, and causing water to splash over the side of his glass. “Why the hell would you do such a thing?”

Mary, by now used to Cade’s temper and frequent outbursts, didn’t flinch. Standing firm on the other side of his desk, she calmly stated, “You heard me, Cade. I’ve appointed you a campaign manager. And as for the why, I think it’s pretty damn obvious.”

“Not to me,” he grumbled, snatching a handful of tissues from the box in his top drawer and swiping irritably at the liquid he’d spilled. “Seems like an unnecessary expense.”

With a heavy sigh, Mary replied, “Do you want to win this bloody election or not?”

“Yes, of course I do. What sort of a stupid question is that?”

“Well then, you need a campaign manager. The rest of the team and I already have enough on our plates. We can’t handle that side of things, too. Not to mention the fact that you really need someone with … expertise … in that department. Someone who can boost your public image, make you more likeable … you know, so people will actually vote for you.”

Screwing up the wad of soggy tissue and dumping it in the wastebasket beside him, Cade snapped his gaze to Mary. She stood, the ever-present iPad clutched against her chest, looking as determined and immovable as a five-feet-one, slim thirty-five-year-old was ever going to get.

He sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “What’s wrong with my public image?”

Rolling her eyes heavenward, her body tensing, Mary’s cool demeanor actually looked on the verge of cracking. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, she looked back at him. “Give me strength, Cade. Are you fucking serious?”

She may have used the deep breath and probably a considerable amount of willpower to dampen down her physical reaction to his question, but her actual words gave her true state of mind away. As a rule, the word “bloody” was as bad as it got for Mary. To have enticed a “fucking” out of her, and within the same conversation, no less, meant she was in real danger of losing her temper with him. And despite her diminutive frame and usually chilled-out personality—especially in comparison with his huge frame and fiery personality—when she did lose it, she was utterly terrifying. Possibly the fact that she rarely got angry was what made it so potent when she did. Mary’s ire could turn even the thickest-skinned person into a blubbering wreck.

“Mary,” he cooed, backtracking quickly, “come on, sit down. Why do you always insist on standing up in here?”

“Because, unless we’re having a meeting, I don’t generally need to stay long. I normally impart my information, you give your feedback, and we get on with our day.” She shifted restlessly and narrowed her eyes. “But today, it seems, you’re having a bit of a brain fart. Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

Raising his eyebrows at her increasing irritation, and wondering if there was something going on in her private life that was making her so touchy, he nodded. “Yes, I really think you do.”

A few seconds of silence passed, in which Mary again seemed to be getting a grip on her irritation. She finally said, “All right. But don’t forget; you asked for it.”



*****

Author Bio:


Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller), The Persecution of the Wolves and Hiding in Plain Sight. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 160 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. Subscribe to her newsletter and get a free eBook: http://www.subscribepage.com/lfnewsletter
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Off the Map

7/13/2017

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So earlier this week I proofread and submitted my latest Naomi Clark novel and was all set to dive into Wild Blood MC 3, when Evernight dropped their latest anthology call. Oops! 

Well, how can I resist? Lawless? Mafia, MC, bad boys? This so far up my street it might as well be my house. Of course I want to write something for it! "But Amber," I hear you say, "what about the whole thing of not starting new stories this year?"

I know, I know! That is totally still a thing! Luckily for me, I have loads of stories I've already started and put on hold for various reasons. I didn't include them on my "to-do" list for this year because they just weren't high up on my priorities compared to others, but one of them is perfect for this anthology call, so I've decided to have a crack at finishing that off before getting back to Wild Blood MC 3.

This is actually a story inspired by a dream I had, and it would be pretty cool to have it accepted into what's undoubtedly going to be a great collection. It's called Vandal (working title; I'm debating changing it), and I thought I'd give you a little look today! Enjoy ;)
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Sex Up Your Sunday with Ravenna Tate!

7/9/2017

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Ready for another Spanking Experiment? Hot on the heels of PADDLED BY THE TEACHER, Ravenna Tate is back with book two in her saucy series. So get comfy and prepare for SPANKED INTO SUBMISSION! Enjoy ;)
SPANKED INTO SUBMISSION
The Spanking Experiments 2


***Click HERE to purchase
directly from Evernight Publishing***

BLURB

Macie Brooks has entertained fantasies of being spanked all her adult life. But until she decided to answer an ad on a BDSM site, seeking participants for a survey on impact play, she had given up hope of fulfilling those fantasies in real life. Intimate relationships haven’t worked out for Macie. She’s been told she’s a freak because of her secret needs. And, because of her poor body image, she doesn’t believe herself desirable.

Dakar Garcia, the Dom at Sensations who introduces her to impact play during one erotic night at the club, is everything she’s ever dreamed of. Handsome, charming, and in control. Dakar has been searching for the woman of his dreams, but without much luck. Is it possible he’s found the perfect submissive, and the perfect lover, in Macie?



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EXCERPT

“Do you know what this is?”

“A spanking glove, Sir?”

“Yes. It’ll protect my hand from getting sore, but will still give your luscious round ass a nice burn.” After he moves the toys on his left to his right, he spreads his legs apart slightly and pats his left thigh. “Drape your lower torso over my thigh, facing me at an angle.”

I don’t quite picture what he means until I lie over his thigh and he moves me further to the left a bit, so that I’m almost lying next to him. His right leg pins both of mine across the backs, and he drapes his left forearm across my middle back. I’m trapped against his hard, muscled body. My pussy is soaked now, and tiny contractions flutter the walls once again. Underneath my lower abdomen, his muscled thigh presses against me.

“Are you comfortable?” That voice! It washes over me, deep and sexy, until I would do anything to hear it.

“Very, Sir.” Speaking is difficult.

“This will hurt, Macie.”

The first swats are delivered on one side, then the other, in rapid-fire succession. I yell and try to get away, but he has me held too tightly. Now I understand why he put on the glove. By the third swat on each cheek, tears stream down my face and I expect to smell the smoke from the fire on my ass.

At the same time, it’s so damn arousing that I’m having a tiny orgasm. I never would have believed such a thing was possible, except that each swat pushes my clit into his thigh. When he reaches six on each side, my yells have turned to moans, and the contractions inside my pussy are still going.

The combination of pain and pleasure is like a drug. I want more. If this happens from a simple spanking, what will those floggers and paddles do to me? My mind fills with erotic images as he delivers the last three smacks on each side. I picture him fucking me, his cock in every hole, and my ass raw from those toys he chose.

When it’s over, I simply lie there, letting my imagination run wild. Maybe if I don’t move, he’ll keep going?

“What have we here?” His voice breaks through my fog, and I gasp as fingertips brush my labia. “You are soaking wet, Macie.” He says it like he’s surprised. Good lord. Has the man ever looked into a mirror?

“Yes, Sir, I sure am.”

A soft chuckle accompanies him slipping a finger into my wetness. I moan loudly as he massages that perfect spot inside. “Very nice.” He removes his finger and slides two inside. While he moves them in and out, he rubs my clit with his thumb, and I turn to jelly.

Now I’m moaning and writhing against his touch as an intense orgasm begins to build. Not shy any longer about the silly skirt, I’m glad it’s open in the back. If this is the reward for letting him spank me until I cry, bring on that chainmail flogger and leather paddle!

***Other Buy Links***

AMAZON
Smashwords
iTunes
BARNES & NOBLE
KOBO
BookStrand

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July Accountibilty

7/5/2017

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OH MY GOD! I finally finished that Naomi Clark project I've been working on for, like forever! Or since February, whatever. It's still been a long time since I worked on anything else and I'm so excited to have wrapped it up! Partly because it was a big, demanding novel and I was starting to feel like it would never end. And partly because now I can write something new! 

If you take a look at my Works in Progress page, you can see there are a few things floating around, but I'm actually not going with any of them. A while ago I hammered out the start of the next Wild Blood MC book, and I've been promising myself all year that it will be the next thing I work on. Book 3, Slater's Claim, will set up the next three books in the series. I'm already in love with the heroine, I've made myself a Spotify playlist, and I'm ready to go! So basically my goal for July is just...to write.
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I will have edits for a couple of Naomi Clark things, and I need to submit the monster manuscript that wouldn't die, but my goal for the rest of the summer is to throw myself headfirst into Slater's Claim and enjoy some quality time with my biker boys. Perfection!
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Sex Up Your Monday with ED Parr!

7/3/2017

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This post is brought to you by "oh my god how is it Monday, I totally meant to post this yesterday but I was eyeball deep in a wip, sorry everyone." In other words, I'm still trying to finish my current Naomi Clark project and completely forgot to post this guest blog! Oops. But at least that means I can bring you something sweet and sexy for your Monday lunchtime! Enjoy...
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Thank you for inviting me to your blog with new Evernight Publishing M/M erotic romance, Given Time.

I wrote this story intending to dedicate it to someone in the front of the book when the publisher asked if I had a dedication. In fact, I didn’t when given the chance, because it no longer seemed appropriate.

The inspiration for the story came last Christmas when I went to stay with friends in another county, but one that I know very well and have lived in. Just like Matt in the story I was shocked and deeply saddened when a much-loved celebrity suddenly died on Christmas Day. I’d followed this artist’s work for years and, because he was a musician, the lyrics and his songs had often lifted me from sadness.

Like many others I wandered off to the house the person lived and died in, which was just a couple of miles away in the next village. I sat in my car watching the parade of people placing tributes along the wall of the house.

The core of the inspiration came from seeing a lone man approach as fog descended on the long pathway. He was tall, slender, dressed stylishly from head to foot in black, and he carried a bunch of white lilies that he placed beside other flowers. His melancholy exuded from his elegant movements. The sight struck me and I couldn’t put it out of my mind as the circumstances surrounding the death of this musician was reported in the news for weeks.

I know a little about the deceased’s life and know sadness surrounding his love-life was often woven into his songs. I wrote the story for him … for him to have a happy ending. If that sounds weird, then that’s okay … he gave me, and still does, such pleasure through his music.

The story isn’t about a musician. It’s about life and love. There are a number of scorching hot love scenes in the story, which I enjoyed writing for the two heroes, Matt and Angel, who after hoping for love, finally find it.

Thank you to the unknown, gorgeous man who laid lilies outside the big old house.


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Given Time
Music video maker, Angel Starc is about to board a plane to Paris when he receives some sudden sad news. It takes him hurrying back to his childhood home after two years away, estranged from his older brother, Rory.

Angel is amazed and filled with guilt when that night he meets the only man he’s found romantically attractive in a long time. How can it be right? He should only be filled with sorrow, but gorgeous, caring Matt Loewe wraps him in a blanket of comfort and love that heals Angel’s troubled soul.

Delectable, artist, Matt Loewe, follows his hunches and his heart. He’s been looking for love and Angel ignites an addictive passion in him.

As the two men fall deep in love they provide each other with the care needed to come to terms with their past anxieties.

(Romantic erotica with HEA, warning, contains anal M/M sex, frottage, gay partner oral sex, partner masturbation, and explicit gay male love scenes)
Excerpt

He kissed Matt, gently, soaking up the feel of Matt’s skin against his nose. He thrust his hips so that his lower body crushed on Matt’s and the unmistakable shape of Matt’s cock, hard and bulging in his pants met Angel’s cock. A low groan escaped Angel and he deepened the kiss, clinging to Matt, as his legs weakened and his heart pounded.

Matt pushed his arms around Angel’s neck, and Angel’s hands fell away from the grip on his shoulders. Matt’s murmur penetrated Angel’s haze of pleasure. “I can’t even think straight, but I know I want you naked in my arms.” He rained kisses on Angel’s mouth.

Angel pushed his hands between their bodies. He traced Matt’s erection with his fingertips and then cupped it in his palm, pressing against the fabric of Matt’s pants.

Matt’s groan on Angel’s lips sent a shock of desire through his balls.
Angel opened Matt’s pants in a rapid move and thrust them down his thighs. He dragged Matt’s boxers down and grabbed his cock. The rock-hard column filled his fist and extended inches over it. He sighed out the pleasure the feeling gave him, kissing Matt hungrily. Angel’s cock strained against his pants and his stomach clenched so tight it made him breathless.

“Take off your clothes.” Matt’s urgent whisper teased on Angel’s lips.

Angel hurried to comply. He slid his hand from Matt’s cock taking with it the pulse of pre-cum that leaked from the slit. He licked his finger gazing into Matt’s eyes.

Matt gasped as he watched. He dragged off his jacket and pulled his tie from around the collar of his shirt. Practically wrenching the buttons from his shirt, he yanked it down his arms.

Angel gazed at him, taking off his jacket and shirt as he savored the sight of Matt’s muscled torso, and the way Matt’s perfect cock bounced as he moved. Matt was already naked and Angel went to him. He grabbed his ass and pulled him close. “Fucking hell, you are so hot, and it’s been so long for me I might come just looking at you.” He kissed Matt.

Matt’s response made his cock jerk. The passion in his kiss scorched down Angel’s stomach. He escaped Matt’s lips with a groan and pulled off his pants, levering off his boots as quickly as he could.

Matt ran his hands along Angel’s ass.

Angel jerked upright and spun around.


Matt’s eyes darkened and he held out his arms.


Angel rammed his body on Matt’s and they crashed together, murmuring hoarse sounds. Matt’s cock rubbed on Angel’s and he rocked his hips so that the hard columns slid along each other.

His chest felt tight as his lower body clenched with the need to come.


“I might fucking fall down if I don’t come soon.” He whispered…


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Copyright E.D.Parr 2017 Evernight Publishing
BUY the book:
On release discount at Evernight Publishing
http://www.evernightpublishing.com/given-time-by-e-d-parr/
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0734WFZ69
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0734WFZ69
http://www.bookstrand.com/given-time-mm
Global Amazon link

About E.D.Parr
Twitter https://twitter.com/parr_books
Amazon page https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B01MUNJ3I8
Evernight Publishing http://www.evernightpublishing.com/e-d-parr/
Blogs
https://parrx.blogspot.co.uk/
https://edparr.blogspot.com
G+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/109826263935095799032

1 Comment
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    Welcome to the virtual home of Amber Morgan - writer of contemporary romance, MC romance, and paranormal romance. Cat-keeper, snake-charmer. Chaotic good.
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