Sunday, June 25, 2017

Sneak Peek Sunday: A DARING DESIRE by Jeanne St. James #MMF #Interracial #eroticromance

A Daring Desire
The Dare Menage Series Book 4
by Jeanne St. James
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance, MMF, Menage, Interracial, LGBTQ

Take two defense attorneys, add one troubled NFL QB who needs them, and what do you get? A threesome of hot, sexy conflict.

Gryff Ward made a serious mistake when he hired the hot-as-hell defense attorney Rayne Jordan as an associate in his high-profile legal firm, even though she’s one of the best. Now he’s struggling to keep it professional, especially when she insists on calling him “Boss.”

Rayne’s been attracted to the firm's top attorney ever since her interview. And she’s well aware that calling the conservative man “Boss” drives him crazy…in a very good way.

Add Trey Holloway, their newest client, a troubled NFL quarterback, into the mix. Tension arises when it’s clear that both Gryff and Trey want Rayne and Gryff is willing to fight for her. However, Trey doesn’t hide the fact that he wants Gryff too.

Now Gryff’s having a hard time fighting not only his attraction to Rayne but to another man. Even though he stubbornly refuses to admit his deepest, darkest desires.

Then Rayne takes control. She’s determined to have them both in not only her bed but her life, and she won’t give up until she does.

Note: This book in the series can be read as standalone. It includes an HEA ending. It is intended for audiences over 18 years of age since it includes explicit sexual scenes between all three characters.


Gryffin Ward’s dick was so hard he winced.

The newest associate at his law firm stood on the other side of his desk talking. Actually talking to him.

And he had no clue what she was even saying.

As he watched her lips move, he regretted hiring her. Even though she came highly recommended.

Rayne’s stats were so good he would’ve been a fool not to. The more cases his practice won, the more clients they attracted. The more clients they drew, the larger his firm grew. Which meant—

Oh fuck. Who cared what it meant. Right now, he desperately needed to adjust himself because his erection was caught in his pants in a painful position.

“So, what do you think, Boss?”

Holy fuck with that “Boss” shit again.

She needed to start dressing like a nun and stop calling him that. Otherwise, he would have permanent blue balls.

What did he think? He didn’t. All the blood in his brain had rushed to his dick, so he had no valid thoughts.

“You don’t have to call me boss. In fact, please don’t.”

“I know I don’t.” With a smile, Rayne leaned over and tapped him under the chin before spinning on the heel of her fuck-me pumps and heading toward the door. “But I like it,” she threw over her shoulder.

Me too.

He took one last glance at her tight skirt with the slit in the back, the one that hugged her luscious ass, and those stockings she wore with the line up the back of her legs, before she disappeared, leaving his office door open.

Gryff closed his eyes and blew out a breath.


No wonder she won most of her cases. The judge’s and the ADA’s brains were probably mush after watching her pace the courtroom cross-examining witnesses on the stand.

No matter what, she was highly respected for being a great defense attorney.

But he should fire her. He didn’t dip his pen in the company ink and he wasn’t going to start now. Even though she sorely tempted him.

He was a wretch. That’s what he was.

JEANNE ST. JAMES is a best-selling erotic romance author who loves an Alpha male (or two). She was only 13 when she started writing since it gave her an escape from teenage angst! Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages.
She has a few new releases coming up in 2017. So keep an eye on her website at or sign up for her newsletter here.


Friday, June 23, 2017

First Chapter Friday: Forever Him (An Obsessed Novella) by Jeanne St. James #erotic #erotica

 An Obsessed Novella
Jeanne St. James
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance/Erotica

This is not just a love story, it’s an obsession…

I can’t keep my eyes off the tall, dark, and confident man who stops in the coffee shop every morning. I want this stranger more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before, even though I only know his first name. As an author, my imagination is my ultimate writing tool, men like Kane my muse. And the minute he leaves, I’m overcome with fantasies I can’t control and my fingers fly across the keyboard … until one day, I almost snap. My embarrassing outburst has me running out the door when he catches me and takes me to his home.

Though it’s risky, I can’t resist him. And with one kiss, he now owns me. This man will capture my sanity and trap it forever. He’ll steal me one piece at a time until he possesses me completely. He’ll ruin me for any other man. But I don’t want anyone else, for it’ll always be forever him.

Note: All books in the Obsessed series are stand-alone novellas. It is intended for audiences over 18 years of age since it includes explicit sexual situations, including BDSM.

 Available on Amazon for $0.99 for a limited time
Or FREE on Kindle Unlimited!

His name is Kane.
I will love him forever. He just doesn’t know it yet…

Chapter One
The only reason I know his name is because every morning when he stops at the coffee shop for his large black coffee, the barista calls out, “Kane with a K.”
Every. Single. Morning.
            I assume the barista does it on purpose. Possibly to coax a smile out of him. But it never does.
            His expression never changes. It seems forever stuck in serious mode. He just grabs his coffee, throws money into the tip jar, spins on his heels, and leaves.
            Maybe he’s an important man. A busy man. A man with a lot of responsibilities on his broad shoulders. Maybe his mind is on what he needs to get done for the day.
            But he never deviates from his routine. Black coffee. No cream. No sugar. No pastries.
            Not once since I’ve noticed him.
            I rarely pay attention to people coming and going from the shop since the mornings are usually busy. I sit in my corner with my laptop open, my brain spinning with ideas. Or not.
            Sometimes I have severe writer’s block. Those are the times my brain seems dark and empty. Nobody’s home.
            I had it the first morning I noticed him. During those times, I stare off blindly while reaching deep into my head. Searching for… something. Anything. Begging for just a couple words to spur my creativity.
            The front door with its delicate dinging bell usually never pulls my attention. Until that day.
            The day I happened to be staring at the door mindlessly, not paying attention to the influx of customers.
            Until him.
            He’s tall. And broad. Not fat, no. Heavy muscles bunch under the dress shirt he wears as he pushes the door open and steps inside.
            His dark hair is super short on the sides, just a tiny bit longer on the top. A no-nonsense haircut. Like him… No nonsense.
            His perfectly ironed, deep purple dress shirt is tucked neatly into his black slacks. His black leather belt is held together by a simple gold-tone buckle.
            His eyebrows appear dark and heavy above eyes that make me blink. They are so light but I can't tell if they are gray or blue. No matter what, they’re a shocking contrast to his skin color.
            The only visible accessory he wears is a watch on his wrist. Even from where I sit, I can see it’s quality. One I could never afford, and I probably wouldn’t know the brand. But it screams expensive.
            His legs are long and unmistakably solid, giving him a confident stride as he beelines to the counter.
            Why does he stop here for black coffee? I’m sure he can afford a coffee maker. It isn’t difficult to make. Some grounds, a filter, and some water. Push the button, wait, and voilà…
Ah, maybe he doesn’t like to wait. But is it actually quicker to stop here every morning?
Maybe he doesn’t like to clean up. Though, after studying him, my gut instinct says he can afford someone to take care of dirty dishes. Perhaps he even has a significant other who would be willing to do it. A wife. A husband.
A lover
It doesn’t matter why he stops each morning because once I notice him, I can’t take my eyes off him. I can’t concentrate.
I watch his lips move as he places his order. I wait for the corners of his lips to turn up as he talks to the barista. They don’t. No eye crinkle, no smile, not even a nod of his head to acknowledge that he’s speaking to a fellow human.
            He never takes out a cell phone once while waiting for his coffee. I have never even seen him with one in his hand.
            He would be the kind of person to think it rude to be on your phone instead of giving your full attention to the person serving you. Even if that attention is cold, lifeless.
            He’s consistent, and he always comes alone.
            One day I switch from my regular table in the corner to a table where I can see his left hand. His ring finger appears bare. Though, that doesn’t guarantee he isn’t married. Or in a committed relationship. A lot of men don’t wear bands.
            I watch him every day. I learn the way he moves, that he’s right-handed, that he takes fifteen strides to the coffee counter. That he always checks the lid on his coffee to make sure it’s secure before pivoting to leave.
            I turn into Pavlov’s dog. When the bell rings at 8:02 every morning, I have to glance up. I can’t fight it even if I want to.
            After I watch him walk out the door, I spin fantasies about him. How he will look naked. How his face will twist when he comes. How his fingers will feel deep in my pussy, stroking my insides, making me wet.
            How serious his kiss will be when he crushes me against him.
            I can’t escape my thoughts. My desires. My panty-soaking fantasies.
            I think about changing coffee shops because I‘m becoming obsessed.
            I want to touch him. I want to see him smile. I want to make him laugh.
            I imagine that something is missing from his life. Like me. I can solve all his problems. I can smooth his brow when it furrows after being overwhelmed at work. I can kiss away the tension. I can whisper soothing words in his ear to distract him from all the important tasks he’s responsible for.
The only good thing about my obsession is it helps me write. Once the bell rings as the door closes behind him, my fingers tear across the keyboard. I no longer suffer from writer’s block. Fantasy after fantasy pops in my head, and I squeeze my thighs together until I ache as the words spill out onto the screen.
He is my muse.
My inspiration.
His skin is dark, but I can’t imagine him lounging by a pool. He seems too important for that. Or too impatient. He probably doesn’t have time for fun. Life for him is about getting things done.
So, it isn’t a tan. No, his skin tone appears natural. His heritage makes him dark. Brooding. Intense. Something lurks in his lineage that is far from middle America. Even if his driver’s license classifies him as white, his family tree would say otherwise.
            Kane with a K intrigues me.
I never sleep in anymore, but I don’t have to set my alarm. My eyes pop open every weekday at the same time, my head already filled with him. I make sure I am at the coffee shop, in my usual spot with my laptop open, my chai tea fresh and hot in front of me by 7:50. Just in case he’s early.
He never is. He’s like clockwork. He has a routine, and sticks with it.
Every. Single. Morning.
I want to know what his last name is. What he does for a living. What kind of car he drives. Does he walk to the coffee shop? Does he live or work nearby?
When the tiny bell rings, I glance up. My eyes flick to the time in the corner of my screen, 8:02. Then they land back on him.
Today he wears a jacket over his light blue dress shirt, one that emphasizes the color of his eyes. His dark blue patterned tie is knotted perfectly, precise, tight to his collar. The cuffs of his shirt are visible over his hands. The correct length for a well-dressed man. His gold cufflinks flash as his arm swings in rhythm with his gait.
He’s so out of my league, he never, ever glances my way. Not once.
I don’t understand how he can’t feel the heat of my gaze, the filthy sexual nature of my thoughts.
How can he not feel me undressing him?
Every. Single. Morning.
He has to wait this morning. Two people are ahead of him with much more complex orders than his usual large black coffee. The staff is short-handed today. His sharp gaze sweeps the space behind the counter before realizing the issue. He lifts his arm and checks his watch.
His toe taps. Most likely from impatience, not nervousness. His body turns as he surveys the shop. For once, he's noticing that there are other customers and things in the café other than just him, the barista, and his large black coffee.
            I feel him, though he’s not even close, not even touching me.
            I sense the air shift with every breath he takes. I notice every blink. His long, dark eyelashes open and close like two Chinese fans.
Then his gaze bounces to me.
            Instead of continuing past, it stops. It stays. He stares. Possibly because I’m staring back. Maybe because my mouth gapes open and I’m breathing more shallow than normal.
            I shift awkwardly in the hard, wooden chair as heat rises into my cheeks, and I’m mortified that I can’t tear my gaze away from his.
His eyes narrow and his brows furrow, making his eyes appear darker than normal. They remind me of a stormy sea instead of the tranquil Caribbean Ocean.
My heart beats furiously as his eyes roam over my hair. I fight not to run a hand through it and hope it’s all in place… because it usually isn’t. I curse under my breath when his gaze drops lower to my mouth. I lick my lips before slamming my jaw shut, narrowly missing my tongue. His inspection of me is slow, thorough. Down my neck and then lower.
I’m glad I tossed on a V-neck cashmere sweater this morning and not an old sweatshirt. Never in my wildest fantasies did I think he would notice me.
His eyes roam smoothly to my cleavage and pause again. One second, two seconds, three seconds. Blood rushes to my head, and I squirm. Heat pools at my core making me wiggle in my seat.
God, just his gaze makes me want to come. My pussy throbs and I have an urge to touch myself.
All of those fantasies.
If he only knew.
He’d probably laugh and think I’m silly. That he’s way out of my league. He would never be with someone like me.
But I want him to touch me. I want his fingers to rake through my hair, rip my head back. I want to feel his lips, his teeth, along the strong pulse in my neck. I want him to brush his thumbs over my hardened nipples.
I find myself light-headed and realize I stopped breathing. I’m waiting. Paused for him to make his move. To grab my hand, pull me out the door, to his house, his car, his office, where he could fuck me thoroughly and hard until he makes me explode into a million pieces.
I want to climb on his lap and spear myself on his cock, riding him hard until I’m slick, sweating, and clinging to his skin with my fingernails. I want to feel his teeth along the sensitive curves of my breasts.
I want.
I want.
I want him to touch me.
I need him to touch me.
I need his fingers, his hard cock, inside me.
And I’m as impatient as him.
I need it now.
I want him now.
            I scream silently. A voice I don’t recognize as mine yells, “Touch me, damn it! Touch me!”
            Then I realize all customers’ eyes are on me. Those words, that demand, were not contained in my head.
            I shouted it out loud. The rawness in my throat unequivocal proof.
            My chair squeals as I shove it back and it falls to a clatter behind me. I grab my laptop, slamming the lid down. I tuck it under my arm and rush out of the coffee shop.
            I leave my dignity behind, just like my chai latte.
            My cheeks remain hot, my heart pounds, my stomach rolls. I’m about to evacuate the contents of my stomach.
            I push through the front door and suck in fresh air, willing myself to breathe. In through the nostrils, out through the mouth. Slow, steady. Keeping the rhythm until my nausea subsides.
            My back faces the store front, and cars with occupants, who are clueless to my recent life-changing outburst, whiz by. They don’t know how crazy I sounded shouting to a man, a stranger, in the coffee shop behind me.
            But I know.
            And he knows.
            I need to get away before the door opens, the bell rings, and he steps out onto the sidewalk. One we would have to share.
            Because right now, the thought of sharing anything with him is too much.
            I force my feet to move, my legs to function. I move forward blindly. Step by step.
            Then a car horn blares, scaring me out of my stupor. And my whole body becomes a rag-doll.

JEANNE ST. JAMES is an erotic romance author who loves an Alpha male (or two). She was only 13 when she started writing since it gave her an escape from teenage angst! Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages.
She has a few new releases coming up in 2017. So keep an eye on her website at or sign up for her newsletter here.


Thursday, June 22, 2017

Cuff Me - A Love and Justice Novella - Book 2

When Lynette Montgomery's older sister dies from breast cancer, she quickly steps in to take care of her two young nephews. The boys are sweet, caring, and Lynette has no idea what she's doing. Terrified of failing her sister, she does everything she can to present herself as the parental figure she feels the boys need, even swearing off the sexy-as-can-be cop she just so happened to have a one-night stand with outside of her best friend's house.

Robert Barletta is a decorated and respected cop with the San Antonio PD. After having just played a key role in bringing down Houston and San Antonio's largest drug operation, he should be on top of the world. Unfortunately for him, he can't get that one night with a smoking hot blonde temptress out of his head.

When he's forced to take some time off, and the two come face to face, will they be able to keep their attraction on the back burner? Or has this game of cat and mouse just started?

“Why did you need a vibrator in the first place?” he asked, tongue slowly gliding up and down her neck. “If you need help with something, all you have to do is ask.” He looked up and gave her a smile that she suspected incinerated every woman’s panties in a fifty-mile radius, and hers were no exception. Well, she wouldn’t have been an exception if she were wearing any, a realization that she was suddenly all too aware of as she felt her warm arousal beginning to coat her upper thighs.

“I didn’t know if you’d be interested in another, you know.” She was such an idiot. After what they’d done last time and the things they’d said, she was still shy?

“Another what, angel? Another fuck?” He dropped his hands to her breasts and fondled her nipples through her robe. “You should know by now that I can’t turn down anything you want. All you have to do is give the command.”

Could she be with him again? She’d said no relationships for a while after she got the boys, but this wasn’t a relationship. It just so happened that fate had dropped her a deliciously decadent present in the form of Robert Barletta on this weekend away; was she supposed to ignore that? Who was she to say “Eff you” to fate? That was plain bad manners.

Decision made, she summoned up every ounce of courage she had. With shaking fingers, she reached for the belt on her robe and slowly untied it so that it fell open, revealing herself to him. She felt him grow harder as he looked down at her body.

“Yes, please. I’d like another fuck.”

She thought he’d kiss her, but instead he moved back and then pushed her into his bedroom. He quietly shut and locked the door behind him, then turned back to her with a determined look in his eyes. She moaned as she felt his large hands rip the robe from her body. Her hands shook as she hastily tugged his pants until they were down to his ankles, his erection huge and for her alone. She had a sudden urge to have him in her mouth, and she wasn’t going to let this go any further until she did.

But first, she wanted what she’d been thinking about nonstop since their night together. She looked into his eyes and smashed her mouth to his in a searing kiss, then pulled away and dropped to her knees.

Author Info:
Erica Lynn lives in Houston, TX with her husband, daughters, and dogs. She's a self professed reality TV junkie, and loves to settle down with a glass of wine to watch The Real Housewives. She loves books in all sorts of genres, but erotic romance holds a special place in her heart.

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

***Warning, this excerpt is hot AF*** You're welcome!

Hot and Filthy

Book 4.5 of The Dark and Damaged Hearts Series


Coming June 29th

“Don’t challenge me. Just do as I ask. That little bit of insubordination, my love, has earned your pretty little ass ten smacks. Now come over here.”
Oh, so this was the game we were playing tonight; I felt my heart skip and dance. He was going to be his uber-sexy, dominating self, and I was to submit and listen and obey and reap all the orgasmic benefits. I walked towards him, and he sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Bend over my lap.”
My eyes went wide. I’m not sure he’d ever spanked me like this before. I was always on all fours, on the spanking bench, straddling him, or on my back with my legs in the air. This was new. “You want to spank me like a child?”
His lips turned up into a wicked grin as he reached for my hand. “Ain’t nothin’ childish about what I intend to do to you, princess. Trust me.” I held out my hand, and he pulled me over his lap. Caressing my cheeks, rubbing his hands over my soft, shower-fresh skin, he prepared my body for the punishment to come.
“I’m not going to hurt you, but this is where we’re going tonight, okay? I want you to touch yourself, bring yourself to climax, and I’m going to watch. And it’s also a huge test for me, to see how long I can watch you touch yourself before I have to touch you, too. Before I can’t take it any longer and I have to fuck you. I doubt you’ll require punishment again after this, but if you beg for me, I will spank you. Do you understand?”
“I understand, and yes, I’m okay with this.” My body trembled in his lap, eager and nervous about the first spank to come.
“Good. Now relax. You’re shaking like a frightened kitten.” He continued to massage and run his hands around and along my back and butt, bringing all the blood to the surface of my skin and awakening my nerve endings, which were ready and willing to join the party.
Eventually, my body calmed and I melted into his lap, putty in his strong and skilled hands. It was then that the first spank came, hard and fast on my right cheek, dead center, where all the meat and muscle is. I yelped, squirming in his lap, feeling his erection press against my belly.
“Stop wiggling, Emma. You’re making it hard for me to concentrate. That’s one.”
Another smack came down, with what I could have sworn was a whistle in the air, rapid-fire speed and a cracking noise, landing square on the left one. I yelped again; tears stung the corners of my eyes, and a sudden sob escaped me. It wasn’t overly painful. James was good at what he did, but the initial smack was a shock to the system. “God, your skin is beautiful; it gets such a sexy pink glow to it. Are you okay?”
“Yes.” I was panting like a bitch in heat, surprised by how easily I managed to get out of breath from just two smacks. My core clenched while my body was humming for more. I could feel myself getting slick between my legs.
“Are you wet, baby?”
A finger grazed over my swollen cleft. “Jesus fuck, Emma. Your pussy is so swollen, so shiny. I’d give anything to slip my fingers inside you right now.”
He gave out a groan and thrust his boxers-covered, fully erect cock into my pelvis. I pushed down, desperate to deliver just an iota of the torture he was giving me. He moaned again, following with two quick and hard smacks to each of my cheeks.
I squeaked and squirmed on impulse, relishing the warmth that spread from my backside into the rest of my body. He continued to spank me, varying his speed, the strength, and the location of his strike, keeping me on my toes and always guessing. I was breathless and damn near insane with arousal as I felt my pussy drip onto his lap.
“That’s eight and nine. One more to go. Do you prefer a cheek?”
I growled a “No” before digging my nails into his calf, stanching the need to grind my pelvis against his thigh.
“All right, my choice.”
He delivered the final deliciously painful blow to the left. Immediately after, he began planting soft, feather-light kisses all over my backside, numbing the sting but increasing my desire by tenfold.
“Your ass is perfect,” he hummed, his lips buzzing against my skin. “So plump and soft and round, and perky as hell when you wear those tight black yoga pants.”
I wriggled in his lap as he continued to kiss and nip my bottom, shamelessly humping his cock against my stomach while grinding my pelvis against his thigh. Was this part of the game? Because this was not how I got myself off, as much as I was enjoying it.

“Now, unless you’d like another spanking, I suggest you stand up and start showing me how you touch yourself. I’ll tell you when you can get onto the bed.” 

Emma Everly didn’t know true love or happiness until she met enigmatic millionaire James Shaw. He turned her world upside down, all for the better, possessing her heart, body, and soul. He brought her over to the dark and dirty side and opened her eyes to the wild and kinky sex Emma didn’t even know she craved.
Now they’re married and ready to start their life together, and Emma realizes all her dreams are coming true. With a romantic honeymoon planned on a live-aboard boat in French Polynesia with nothing but her handsome husband and the fishes, Emma is positive James will take her body to newer and more extreme heights of pleasure. But James has other ideas, and even in the middle of their sexy sea adventure, their relationship is put to the test. Emma must find a way to come to terms with James’ demands or risk ruining their first holiday as husband and wife.

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Cailin's Tuesday Tease for June - Educated by the Master

For the June Tuesday Tease, I bring you a taste of Master Trey from Educated by the Master. This novella will be part of the next SFR Shooting Stars sci-fi romance anthology coming this fall. It’s also the prequel to Master Trey’s full length novel (yet to be written) in the Sons of Tallav series. I’m currently writing Rand. Trey is next in line especially now that I’ve written his prequel.

It hadn’t occurred to Trey that LS Quantum and Beta Tau were two sides of the same coin. Sure, LS Quantum was a spaceship, and Beta Tau was a planet. But in every other respect they were the same large, climate controlled settings designed to provide trendsetting pleasure venues to paying customers and entertainment for all ages and palates, including his own kinky tastes.

The insight came when a middle-aged woman eased alongside him, brushing her shoulder against his and asking where his cabin was located on the ship. Her skimpy halter, skin tight slacks, and the bright pink hair she was sporting did nothing to enhance her appeal. This was Beta Tau all over. The glare he aimed at her didn’t force her to step back. Good gods! I’d be at Quantum’s shuttle service gate if Patsy O’Shaughnessy hadn’t insisted on meeting me here.  He scanned the customers of the bland space station lounge. No. Still on my own.

An expert at fending off tourists on Beta Tau, he’d offer to take them to the club, tie them up, and use a bullwhip on them. Most scurried away. He handed anyone who accepted his proposition over to staff at the club. Bondage was part of his personal kink, but he preferred to use a flogger. The whip was the specialty of the Whip Hand’s owner, Randolph Meryon, Trey’s boss.

The neon-haired tourist ran a finger down his upper arm. “Maybe we could get together on board? I’ve heard bald men are really good in bed.”

When he dropped his gaze to where she’d touched him, the woman tittered. Eyes narrowed, he leveled his full focus on her. “Sure. If you’re into knife play, I might be able accommodate you. I’d have to ask my girlfriend. She’s the one who does the cutting.” He followed his words with a feral grin.

The Sons of Tallav series is available at eBook retailers, but you can buy each book for a $2 discount from the publisher, Loose Id.

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