Friday, September 30, 2011

FLIRTY FRIDAY: The skinny on bedroom attire

I read an article online today about how to look more like a Victoria’s Secret model. (Read the story here, if you want.) It got me thinking about lingerie, which got me thinking about what I wear in the bedroom.

You’d think as an erotic romance author I would regularly wear sexy lingerie or nothing at all to bed. (Do you hear that? It’s the sound of Mr. Simone laughing his ass off.)

No. I tend to wear old, stretched out T-shirts and panties to bed. Sometimes I include mismatched socks. Sometimes the shirts are so ugly and worn, Mr. Simone’s first comment when he sees me is, “Really, Bec, really?”

I’m thinking I should probably take a cue from my heroines (who always look sexy and fabulous) and upgrade my bedroom wardrobe. What do you think?

What about you? What do you wear to bed?

You can learn more about Becca, her books, and her sexier heroines on her website.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Thursday Thirteen – 13 Date Nights

We all seem to live very busy lives and time for romance is simply squeezed in. A friend of mine gave me the idea to write this post when she told me how she and hubby set a night a week aside as a date night. All week long they anticipate the one evening alone without kids and some one-on-one time with each other. Hmm… I think I like that anticipation part.

1. Stay overnight at a hotel and order room service.

2. Go out for dinner and a movie.

3. Visit a bar or pub you used to frequent when you were dating. Or simply visit a local saloon for a drink and dancing.

4. Visit a museum or attend a poetry reading.

5. If you have an entire day, hop into a car and drive in one direction for an hour. See where it takes you and find things to do when you get there. I remember doing this with hubby and we’d find fun ice cream parlors, antique shops and even a couple wineries.

6. Grab a pizza to go and a bottle of wine then find a nice spot in a local park or even your backyard to eat.

7. Go out just for dessert. Eat it sensually.
8. Go for a walk in the woods or a park. Take a blanket and lie under a tree and cuddle for an afternoon or watch the moon rise.

9. Make dinner together, sipping wine as you do. Play music and enjoy simply being together.

10. Rent a movie, serve up drinks and popcorn. Slip into “something more comfortable” and see if you make it to the end of the movie.

11. Play a board game. Strip Monopoly, honey?

12. Have an indoor picnic. Lay out a blanket on the floor or use the coffee table. Light candles and have some fresh flowers to add to the ambiance.

13. Take a long bath together by candlelight. How about some wine too?

What would be a romantic date night for you?

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Coming Back from Rachel Leigh

Rachel Leigh has a new novella available
from The Wild Rose Press.
Her latest release is one scorching hot read!
Check it out!

Blurb: Kelly Hampton loved once...and lost. After two years of looking
for Sean MacKenzie in other men--and failing miserably--she takes a vow
of celibacy. No sex until she finds love. Then Sean strolls back into
her bar, reigniting old flames. No one has come close to understanding
or satisfying her like he did. Her body burns for the passion they once
shared, but her heart still remembers the pain.

Sean escaped Jessop Hill and his father's fists in the middle of the
night without a word--even to his love, Kelly--to protect his battered
mother, but he never forgot the explosively erotic relationship he left
behind. Now his father is dead and Sean is back for the only woman he's
ever wanted. Their reunion is full of fire – but can sexual
attraction and noble intentions overcome years of heartache or will
Kelly walk away to protect her heart this time.


“We’re closed,” she snapped.

The stranger continued to walk closer without as much as a blip in his stride. The massive height and width of him engulfed the space between them until he stopped and his eyes met hers. Kelly stared. Recognition hit her like a demolition ball. Her breath caught and her heart picked up speed. No. No, it couldn’t be.

Swallowing hard, she crossed her arms to hide the shaking in her hands. He looked away from her, casually taking in his surroundings. She stared at his profile, her feet welded to the floor. No, she was wrong. It couldn’t be him.

This was a dangerous situation. She was alone. The guy was built like a Trojan warrior. Instinctively, she inched her hand below the bar and curled her fingers around one of the three aluminum baseball bats lodged beneath it at four feet intervals. Any funny stuff and he wouldn’t know what hit him.

Leaning his hands on the bar, he shook the rain from his dark blonde hair, spattering the polished wood of the bar, and looked straight into Kelly’s eyes.

Oh, shit. It was him. Without any doubt whatsoever. Her heart turned over. “Sean?” she croaked.

His smile was slow, sexy, and completely irresistible. Kelly trembled with the effort it took not to leap over the bar and slam his face between her breasts.

“Hi, Kelly,” he said. “Should’ve known you end up running this place.”

Cool. She needed to be cool. Slowly pulling her hand from the bat, she planted both flat on the bar, mimicking his stance and purposefully tilting forward so he could have a clear glimpse of her cleavage and just what the hell he’d been missing for the last two years.

Coming Backby Rachel Leigh
The Wild Rose PressRelease Date: 8-12-2011

"Coming Back confronts the age old issues of going home again and rekindling lost love. Sean and Kelly never stopped loving each other, but life pulled them apart. Now Sean is back to win Kelly without knowing if she will be able to forgive him and let their love bloom once more. Coming Back is a passionate tale of love and lust mixing together and what happens when we face the responsibilities of life. Rachel Leigh has a good erotic voice that keeps things fiery throughout her work." - Sizzling Hot Reviews

Rachel Leigh lives in the UK with her husband, two daughters and beloved Labrador. She is a member of Romance Writers of America and the Romantic Novelists Association. When she's not writing she is reading, walking or watching dramas on TV while nursing a chilled glass of white wine!


Saturday, September 24, 2011

Accidents and Experimentation by Lucy Felthouse

Please welcome a special guest blogger today.... Lucy Felthouse!

Thanks for letting me loose on the blog today, you Romance Writers Behaving Badly!

Today I'm chatting about the ideas behind my latest release from Ravenous Romance, Naughty Delivery. It's a short erotic story with spanking and bondage elements.

When I was thinking about writing the story, I knew I wanted to write BDSM into it, but as I don't write much of that kind of stuff I wanted to start myself off gently. So I came up with the idea of making the characters in the story new to BDSM – then went one step further and made it so their discovery of the kinky sex play was quite accidental! The result was a fun, lighthearted and yet very sexy tale of spanking and bondage. And, perhaps unsurprisingly, the characters loved it!

Without giving too much away, the couple in the story, Sonia and Ben have decided to order some sex toys to spice up things in the bedroom. However, when the parcel turns up, the contents aren't quite what they expected. They decide to try them out anyway and discover an element of sex they hadn't previously experimented with – and they like it!

Here's a little taster of the story for you:

Sonia moved restlessly through the house; cleaning. She hated housework at the best of times, but when she was on tenterhooks like this, the dust certainly didn’t have much to fear.

She was saved from her half-hearted duster-flicking by a knock at the door. Abandoning the cloth with undisguised glee, Sonia rushed to the front door. Unlocking it, she greeted the delivery guy with a maniacal grin. Barely noticing his wary expression, Sonia signed his hand-held machine and closed the door behind him, clutching the box with delight.

Sonia rushed out to the garden.

“Ben! Ben, it’s here!”

Ben looked up from where he’d been weeding the garden, a smile spreading across his face. Sonia’s excitement was catching. Plus, he was just as interested in the contents of the package as she was.

Standing, he followed his girlfriend as she scampered back into the house, retrieved a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer and made her way upstairs. Ben paused to wash his dirt-encrusted hands in the kitchen before following Sonia to the bedroom.

Upstairs, she was sitting cross-legged on their bed, scissors at the ready. Ben tucked his lanky frame into a mirror image of Sonia’s position, and nodded.

“Go on then,” he said, “open it.”

She didn’t need prompting twice. Slicing away at the tape sealing the box, Sonia was careful not to damage the contents. When it was done, she put the scissors down and waggled her eyebrows and fingers theatrically before folding back the flaps of the box.

Sinking her fingers into the polystyrene packing chips, Sonia resisted the childish temptation to scoop some up and throw them around. She’d only have to tidy them up, and she thought that time would be much better spent enjoying the contents of the parcel.

It was the first time they’d ordered sex toys from the Internet. Actually, it was the first time they’d purchased any sex toys, full stop. Ben and Sonia had always been happy with their sex life, but after reading one too many articles about how much fun vibrators and things were, they’d decided to find out what all the fuss was about.

They’d giggled like naughty schoolchildren as they scoured their website of choice, browsing through all the naughty things available for sale. After gawping wide-eyed and open-mouthed at several scary-looking implements definitely not designed for beginners, they’d navigated back to the more vanilla couples’ toys.

Following some umm-ing and ahh-ing, they made their choices, placed the order and waited. However, things weren’t quite the same after they’d clicked that ‘Confirm Purchase’ button. In the days that followed, their normal routine was punctuated with spontaneous sex. It usually followed a conversation about the various things they’d seen on the website, not to mention the items that were winging their way through the postal system, en route to their house.

Or so they thought.

Naughty Delivery is available now from, Amazon US, Amazon UK, All Romance eBooks, Barnes & Noble and many more.


Lucy is a graduate of the University of Derby, where she studied Creative Writing. During her first year, she was dared to write an erotic story - so she did. It went down a storm and she's never looked back. Lucy has had stories published by Cleis Press, Noble Romance, Ravenous Romance, Summerhouse Publishing and Xcite Books. She is also the editor of Uniform Behaviour and Seducing the Myth.

Find out more at Lucy Felthouse ~ Erotic Author.

You can also find her on Facebook and Twitter.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Never Say Oops

Ever wished you could take back something you said? Wish you had an Undo button for life? Me too. That's why I thought today would be a good time to share 13 quotes I recently discovered about making mistakes. In case you're wondering, my favorite is #13, and the title of this blog post. I found these gems on The Quote Garden, which has been online for more than a decade. Seems they are doing something right!

As a writer, I've made a few good ones. Okay, okay, more than a few.  After all, that's why editors are necessary. Nobody's perfect. So, tell me, do any of these fit you  someone you know? ^_^

  1. The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make one.  ~Elbert Hubbard, The Note Book, 1927
  2. Mistakes are part of the dues one pays for a full life.  ~Sophia Loren
  3. It was when I found out I could make mistakes that I knew I was on to something.  ~Ornette Coleman
  4. I never make stupid mistakes.  Only very, very clever ones.  ~John Peel
  5. If you don't make mistakes, you're not working on hard enough problems.  And that's a big mistake.  ~F. Wikzek
  6. While one person hesitates because he feels inferior, the other is busy making mistakes and becoming superior.  ~Henry C. Link
  7. An expert is a man who has made all the mistakes which can be made in a very narrow field.  ~Niels Bohr
  8. When we make mistakes they call it evil.  When God makes mistakes they call it Nature!  ~Jack Nicholson in The Witches of Eastwick
  9. Things could be worse.  Suppose your errors were counted and published every day, like those of a baseball player.  ~Author Unknown
  10. When you realize you've made a mistake, make amends immediately.  It's easier to eat crow while it's still warm.  ~Dan Heist
  11. Mistakes fail in their mission of helping the person who blames them on the other fellow.  ~Henry S. Haskins
  12. Error is a hardy plant; it flourishes in every soil.  ~Martin F. Tupper
  13. Never say, "oops."  Always say, "Ah, interesting."  ~Author Unknown
Have a favorite along these lines? One of these speak to you in some way? By all means, share!

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Release Day: Unexpected Consequences by Cara Bristol

Communication, or lack there of, can make or break a relationship.

My husband and I dated for five years before we got married. We never lived together, but we spent a lot of time in each other’s company and we talked a lot. We discussed money, kids, our families, where we would live, our jobs, my writing, retirement—just about everything.

So we thought we knew what we were getting. But during five years of discussions, we somehow failed to talk about the really important issues in a marriage such as:
  • Is it ever acceptable to leave a banana peel in the kitchen sink?
  •  Exactly what temperature should the electric blanket be set at?
  • Who is responsible for buying bread?
So, even though we knew each other very well, we experienced a few unpleasant surprises and we went through an…uh…adjustment period during the first six to twelve months of our marriage.

Melania and Jared Traynor, the characters in my erotic romance domestic discipline novella Unexpected Consequences, are experiencing an adjustment period in their new marriage – although over much more serious matters.

Melania thinks she knows what to expect from her husband. Two weeks into her marriage, she’s as happy as she can be and can’t believe her good fortune. Anyone who’s been in a relationship knows that sometimes the biggest upsets start with the smallest incidents. For Melania, it started with a simple pair of red stiletto pumps…

Unexpected Consequences Blurb
Having been reared in a traditional family in which her father was the undisputed head of household, Melania Traynor eagerly vows to follow and obey her new husband. She’s thrilled to marry Jared Traynor, man who will love, protect and guide her with a firm hand.

She has no idea how firm.

Jared belongs to the Rod and Cane Society, an organization of men and their wives who are devoted practitioners of domestic discipline.

When Melania disobeys a “request” from her husband and attempts to hide her disobedience, Jared delivers the spanking he feels is warranted. Although Melania consents, she fears that she got more than she bargained for and doubts she can submit to a lifetime of domestic discipline.

Jared doubts he can accept anything less.

Unexpected Consequences Excerpt

One second she stood beside him, her face pressed to the glass like a little kid at a candy store, and the next she’d evaporated, materializing inside the shop. Jared enjoyed seeing Melania so excited, her face lit up like a Christmas tree, but she had the proclivity to spend a lot of money if not restrained. It was one behavior, among others, she needed to work on, and there was no time like the present. This offered a prime opportunity to test and verify her trust and obedience. He followed her into the shop.

“The clerk thinks she has my size.” Melania was seated in a chair, her sandals already off her feet.

 “You don’t need another pair of shoes.” Jared shook his head. “It’s getting late. I have a full day tomorrow, and you have a list of things you wanted to get done for the party.”

“I’ll only be a minute. I want to try them. Please?” Her gaze turned beguiling, and even though he knew he needed to resist the pull, his resolve softened.

 “You can try them,” he agreed pointedly.

The clerk, a woman about Melania’s age but with eyebrow and nose piercings and short, spiked hair dyed overly black, appeared with a box. “This pair is one of our best sellers. You’re lucky we have your size.” She nudged a stool into place in front of Melania and straddled it. The clerk flipped the lid off the box and pushed aside the tissue paper to reveal the shoes.

Melania stretched out a delicate, pedicured foot, and the salesgirl slid one shoe on, then the other. Even with the platform, the heels were incredibly high. “Oh my God, they’re gorgeous.” Melania’s hushed tone was reverent.

Jared frowned. “How would you walk in those things?”

Melania exchanged an amused glance with the salesgirl. “Silly, they’re not for walking. They just make you feel good.”

She rose and tottered a few steps before finding her sea legs and striding confidently across the carpeted floor. The shoes caused her back to arch, accentuated her chest, and made her legs appear a mile long. Her perfect ass sashayed with each step, undermining his good intentions.

Jared envisioned her wearing the shoes and nothing else, bent over the dining table or the desk in his home office. His cock hardened. He curled his mouth with amusement. Melania was right. The shoes made one feel good.

She could wear them at their small dinner party. He would make love to her on the dining table before his friends arrived, and afterward, while she coolly attended to their guests, he would grin secretly at the memory. He would buy her the shoes.

Melania performed a pirouette and glided toward him. “Please, Jared? I know they’re really expensive and I have red ones, but not like these.” She tilted her head to the side, her glowing hazel eyes beseeching him.

Melania loved the shoes.

He loved the shoes.

His cock loved the shoes.

“No.” He shook his head. “Not today, Melania.” He injected a steely edge into his tone.



I’m having a prize drawing through the end of September for an ebook copy of Unexpected Consequences. To enter, post a comment and leave your email address. I’ll choose my favorite comment from among all my guest blogs during the month of September. The schedule is posted on my blog,

Unexpected Consequences Buy Link

Monday, September 19, 2011

EXCERPT MONDAY: Midnight Treat

It seems like summer just got here, yet it's almost over and Halloween is just around the corner. So, what better time to tease you with an excerpt from my sexy Halloween novella than now?

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I can taste me,” she said against his lips.

“You taste good, don’t you?”

She giggled and sucked his tongue deep into her mouth. After some languorous kissing, she said, “I want to please you.”

He sat up and spread his arms wide. “Sweetheart, my body is yours to do with what you will.”

She scooted to the edge of the bed. “Stand up,” she told him. When he did, she sank to her knees on the floor before him.

His cock strained at the zipper of his pants, as it had for quite some time. With agonizing slowness, she unzipped his fly. Finally, she sprang him free. Her eyes grew wide. “You’re huge.” She looked up at him, then back at his cock. If it were possible, it grew even harder with her compliment.

Cassie hooked her fingers in his waistband and tugged his pants down to the floor. She had her hands wrapped around his shaft before he’d stepped out of the pants.

“I’m not very good at this,” she said, glancing shyly up at him.

“Says who?”

A blush spread across her face. “An old boyfriend.”

His fists clenched at his sides. An overwhelming urge to beat the shit out of this guy he’d never met surged through his veins. He unclenched his fingers and slid his hands into her hair then down to her shoulders, caressing her. “Baby, trust me. Once my dick is in your mouth, there’s not much wrong you can do.”

MIDNIGHT TREAT is available now on through my publisher, Amazon and B&N. You can learn more about me and my writing on my website.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

An Interview with a Psychic

Hello! Last week I sat down with Ryann Phillips, the heroine from PreView, my newest release from Carina Press:

Architect Ryann Phillips lives a normal life—except for her psychic dreams. Few of her premonitions make sense, or even cause her to lose sleep, until she dreams about a vicious murder and is compelled to warn the would-be victim.

Attorney Trevor Kearney doesn’t believe it when Ryann claims his client’s life is in danger. Nevertheless, he’s intrigued by her ability to hold up to his questioning, and by the unexpected attraction he feels for the beautiful woman. He reluctantly agrees to work together to keep his client safe…and to spend more time with Ryann.

Ryann hasn’t met anyone who infuriates and arouses her like Trevor does. He may question her psychic visions, but there’s no doubting their sexual chemistry. As they grow closer, their relationship could put them in the path of a killer and inadvertently set the course of events in motion…

There are a lot of things I'd like to know about this psychic heroine. I thought I'd share our conversation with you

Alanna: "Hello, Ryann?"

Ryann: "Yes, how are you?"

A: "I'm just fine. Sorry... I'm a little flustered. I guess I was expecting someone a little more…um…"

R: "Outlandish?"

A: "Well…yeah. You're wearing jeans and a tee-shirt, not a flowing paisley dress and turban like I imagined when I heard you were psychic."

R: "You're the crazy one. You wrote me."

A: "Oh yeah. That's right. So anyway, tell me what it's like to see the future. I've always wanted to be able to do that."

R: "You have?" Her brow furrows. "Why would you want to do that?"

A: I shrug "I don't know. Sounds like it would be interesting. Maybe find out the World Series score and pick the best players for my fantasy team?"

R: She laughs. "If I ever have a sports-related vision, you'll be the first to know."

A: "Obviously. But really, you've had these visions for a while. When did you realize that your dreams were merging with reality?"

R: "The visions began when I was a teen. I blame puberty and the whacky hormones bouncing through my system. At first I just assumed they were just very realistic dreams. Most of my visions are completely harmless snippets of strangers' lives. A child learning to ride a bike, or a young man's graduation day. Nothing that would make me think these were actually real people. One vision was disturbing enough that I told my friend Ashley about it. She urged me to take it seriously, and it was a good thing I did, it meant the life of a little boy."

A: "What, really?"

R: She looks away, and picks imaginary lint off her jeans. "Yes. He'd wandered away from home. I saw where he slept in my vision, and I was able to direct the police to him."

A: "You look embarrassed about it. I think if it were me, I'd be shouting from the rooftops."

R: "Unlike you, I don't want to be branded a freak."

A: "I see." I scratch through my notes for Ryann's role in a sequel. "Do you have any other talents?"

R: "Well, I'm an architect, so I think I do a pretty good job drawing a straight line."

A: "With a ruler." I roll my eyes. "I meant psychic talents."

R: "No, just these weird premonitions. I can't even control them." She takes a drink of water. "Maybe I'd rather be able to move things with my mind."

A: "Well that might be interesting in a romance." I grin. "How about mind-reading? Can you do that?"

R: "No. If I could, it would have been a lot easier to figure out what happened in the dream about Victoria's murder."

A: "Oh yeah you're right. Maybe I should have written some mindreading in there for you."

R: "A little late for that."

A: "Another book maybe. I'm full of ideas."

R: "Oh!" She scoots to the edge of her seat. "Maybe write one for Ashley. She really needs a happily ever after. Give her a guy who snores. She hates that."

A: "You're evil! I love it." I Jot new notes. "How about Trevor's friend Kevin? He's a little too cocky for her I think, but putting characters in difficult positions is one of my favorite things to do."

R: She snorts. "Don't I know it?"

A: "Hey, those positions I put you and Trevor in weren't my idea. I'm just the conductor for you guys. You of all people must know that."

R: "Trevor and I don't need your help any more, thank you very much."

A: "Is that so? Do tell."

R: "That will have to be off the record. Trevor is a private person really. He'd kill me for talking about our sex life."

A: "Well, he must not have read PreView. I'm afraid I spilled some beans there."

R: "Yeah you did. Maybe I'll read those scenes to him. His blush is so cute."

A: "I can imagine. He's a sexy guy anyway." I fan myself. "Okay, before we go off the record, I'll thank the RWBB for letting us use this nice blog to chat. I'll be sure to clean up after we're done. I'd love to give away a copy of PreView to one lucky RWBB blog readers! Just leave a comment, any comment, and in the morning I'll randomly choose one to win. Thanks for sitting down with me, Ryann. Best of luck with your premonitions. If you have any more interesting dreams, let me know."

Website * Twitter * Facebook * Google + * Olivia Brynn (Alanna's Alter Ego)

Tasty Treat with DC Juris

Tasty Treat by DC Juris

Hi folks! DC Juris here. I'll be your guest host for today. For those of you who don't know me, I'm a transgender fella who writes GLBTQ and heterosexual romance, but mostly m/m.

For today's prompt, and because I'm generally crappy at coming up with things to blog about, I asked my Facebook friends what they want to know. My good friend, and fellow m/m romance writer, Ellis Carrington came up with six questions—here's one of them: What is your favorite ice cream?

Now, if you now anything about me at all, you know there's no such thing as a question with a simple answer. And this one is no different.

Growing up, I was only allowed to have store brand Neapolitan ice cream. That was dad's favorite, so nothing else could come into the house. The only exception was if they were out of Neapolitan, in which case he'd buy butter pecan, but he wasn't happy about it. Even the division of ice cream was controlled. Dad got the chocolate, mom got the strawberry, and I was left with vanilla. Not that vanilla's not nice, but every now and then, another flavor would've been nice. I didn't dare think about sneaking a bite of anything else, though. If you think that's all drastic, consider this: I wasn't even allowed to go into the ice cream section of the store.

Crazy, right?

In high school, I started dating a guy named Robert who liked ice cream. We'd frequently stop at one of those parking lot ice cream places—you know, the giant ice cream cones randomly sitting in the parking lot of some megastore or mini mall. I can still remember standing there staring at the menu in awe, wondering what I should get. I had my first chocolate peanut butter. My first banana-flavored. We even went on a mini road trip once, and I had strawberry cheesecake.

A year or so later, a friend and I went to Baskin Robbins. Oh. My. GOD. Thirty-one flavors, all for me??? Some of them I'd never even heard of. And the colors! I'd never really seen the ice cream at the giant cone place. I was completely amazed at the rainbow of creamy goodness!

My husband is also an ice cream enthusiast and takes me to get cones. Although, admittedly he just enjoys watching me eat them. Apparently I'm quite…er…erotic at it. ::shy grin:: He's introduced me to flavors like Heavenly Hash, Chunky Monkey, and Panda Paws.

But what's my favorite flavor? I don't really have one. I'm fond of chocolate peanut butter, but I'm still searching for my favorite. So far haven't tried but a few I didn't like!

Thursday, September 15, 2011

New Release: Elise Hepner's Roped Emotions


Rapunzel is trapped by the harsh, inescapable reality of her prison, so she builds vivid sexual fantasies where she has full control and no one can take it away. If nothing else, at least she has command over her thoughts.

When Prince Samuel climbs into her tower it’s a small, satisfying excuse to break the rules—until his gentle touch coaxes out her trust. But it’s not enough. No longer can she keep her dark, sexual secrets inside. Rapunzel yearns for rough, passionate sex—a way to unlock her sensual freedom for good.

Vulnerable but unable to turn back, Rapunzel leads Prince Samuel on an intimate journey to define their sexual limits while twisting their definitions of control forever.

“What in Christ’s name…”

I must be hearing echoes from the town nearby, where Mother sells her herbs and braided goods. No one ventures this far toward my tower because Mother’s gone to great lengths to see that they don’t—bear traps are her new favorite method of discouragement. Once one life is claimed, I imagine word spreads fairly quickly to stay away from the area. Why then are there hoof beats that make my head pulse with a slight pain?

There’s no understandable excuse I can delude myself with any longer. Before I can focus on the consequences, I swing my head out the window into the oppressive, humid summer air. Just the very top of his head is visible, his hair brushing past his cheekbones, glowing from the sunshine and shot through with gold. Never have I seen a color so close to my own before—not that I see many people.

For a few moments I can’t quite come to terms with his presence and it’s not for a lack of staring that my pulse inevitably echoes inside my head like an overbeaten drum. This is my chance. Mother won’t be back for quite some time with her wares. He’s circling the tower, slouched over a horse who looks a bit like a nag. Certainly not a proper horse for a man with such fine clothes in gorgeous colors and sumptuous fabrics.
There’s no going back from this moment. It’s a certainty that makes my teeth chatter in a wash of cold fear, despite the heat, and my hands clasp around my middle as I try to hold myself together. He hasn’t looked up yet, more intent on studying the free-standing structure than noticing my shadow plastered across the grass. My mind is desperately working out what I’ll cry out to him. Even as my throat closes with an infusion of happiness that makes me rock on my feet.
“Excuse me?” A tentative question I’m not sure he will hear because it can’t be any louder than a frightened whisper. “Sir, you’re really not supposed to be here.”

Somehow, I’ve managed to make this part louder because he glances up—and his slack-jawed expression is a blow to my chest. He possesses the most gorgeous cobalt blue eyes. Underneath my ribs, the pain grows until taking a full breath is hard. Mother is right, he hasn’t even overcome his shock as my heavy plait of hair rests down the stone side of my prison. He’s not to be trusted.

What am I thinking? He won’t even come near me to aid my escape and his eyes are swamped in confusion—and there’s a flash of unreadable emotion that I refuse to question. He must leave here now and I must somehow convince him to bring no one back with him. I won’t be paraded around for anyone’s amusement. This man has made a mistake coming here.

Yet, there’s still a part of me that grips the windowsill until my palms are numb and that clings to the hope that he will at least acknowledge me. So long since I’ve had any kind of normal conversation. One that didn’t revolve around my hair, my rules or my mother’s day. Won’t he say anything? I’m as trapped by his thick silence as I am by the beauty of his face.

“Please, you must go and tell no one about what you’ve seen. You shouldn’t have ignored the traps. They are there for a reason.”

I don’t know how I’ve gotten that all out because my main focus lies on the foreign stirrings of heat in my cheeks as the pulsing sensation twists lower in my abdomen. What is happening to me? With a certainty that surprises me, I find myself clenching my thighs together, only to have the subtle touch of flesh-on-flesh be more than I can bear. He has yet to take his gaze from mine and a shudder slips up my spine.

“How long have you been here?” His voice carries the strain I hold back and I’m slightly put at ease that at least we are on similar ground. “Who did this to you?”

“For a man who is about to leave, I don’t believe it matters.”

The words barely tumble out of my mouth before I clamp my hand over my lips. I hadn’t meant to be so harsh and instantly regret it. He is so handsome—and these sudden urges, they are overwhelming and confusing to the point where I wish to completely remove the problem. My lips part in an apology and I watch a jovial grin span from ear to ear as he laughs at me until I can’t hear anything but the frantic beat of my heart.

Who is this man? Now he stares at me with a playfulness that washes a wave of goose bumps across my flesh. He doesn’t seem offended, merely amused at my suggestion that he leave. To further that fact, he quickly dismounts and ties his horse to a nearby tree branch. While I can only stare at the way his tight riding boots and breeches hug his muscular body from his calves all the way up to his perfectly rounded buttocks.
Though I’d learned of desire from my mother—and all its wicked principles—I never expected it to rear its head in my lonely, simple world.

However, now my life spirals out of control quickly enough that I tilt back against the wall to my left and watch with trembling hands. This mysterious man climbs the wall of my tower as if it had been built to be climbed so easily—without any aid from my hair. One strong, sun-kissed hand and booted foot at a time. When he offers up his hand to me to pull him over the side, what choice do I have?

Even a man that strong would eventually grow tired and plummet to his death—and I want him tucked close to my body, not on the ground.

“I was beginning to wonder what it took to get some assistance.”

He softly grunts and clasps my hand hard enough that I gasp as I shift my weight to pull him over the side. Muscles I didn’t know existed inside me burn with sharp pain from disuse because of my isolation. His touch radiates heat all along my arm. If it wasn’t for his precarious situation, I would fight to pull away on instinct—but as it is, he manages to throw himself into my home with as much grace as a charging boar—and he trips, falling on top of me and sending us to the hard, stone floor.

His surprisingly soft hand brushes the hair out of my face and lingers, gently stroking, down my cheek. Should I be frightened? Probably. At the moment I can’t bear the thought that my first sincerely gentle touch from a man would be anything but special. His sharp leather scent surrounds my tingling skin.

“Isn’t this a day for surprises?” His gaze cuts through all the fear inside me and his mouth holds the subtle curve of a half smile. “I should move myself off  you, this isn’t proper at all when we’ve barely been introduced.”
Yet he doesn’t move an inch.

A realization whips through my mind and would have left me on the floor if I wasn’t already pinned there by a gorgeous man who touches me with such reverence I might weep. When will this happen again? After this twisted, meandering path of fate, there is no doubt I will be alone again—and I want a loving memory to cling to at night when my old fears tighten my chest until I can’t breathe. This is a choice I can make for myself. And I won’t live the rest of my ordinary, sheltered life not knowing true passion when it burns across my skin.
“They call me Rapunzel.”

His inviting smile lights up my whole world.

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Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Who Uses Social Media?

From Forrester Research, Inc
Who are they? These may be casual readers who see a shared link from a friend and click through to your site. If your website or blog engages them with information and content, they may jump to the next level. If not, they've still visited your site and come away with you and your books in mind. According to Forrester Research (see the infographic), about 70% of people who visit your site are in this category.

If you have a contest, survey, or allow commenting, voting, or sharing (like on a blog) these are the people who'll take part. Joiners often return and may also take part in some of the activities shown on the ladder above their slot in the infographic. These will be fans who interact with you on a more regular basis.

Creators are more prevalent today than ever before. The new smartphones enable them to take an active part in media, and they are more likely to get involved in what you and your site are offering. These are not all smartphone users however. Creators are also the "Conversationalists" who interact on Facebook, Twitter, forums, Yahoo groups, and your newsletters.

Knowing who these various people groups are can help you design your next contest, web design, and project to reach them. For more information, you can visit Forrester Research, who pioneered some of the research into social media.

The question now is... how will you use this information to improve your blog, website, or contest? Please feel free to share, ask, or suggest.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Tuesday Teaser - Bound for Pleasure

Here's a Teaser for 'Bound for Pleasure' 
a Fem Dom 1 Night Stand story from fellow 1NS author Ann Mayburn. 

Congrats on your September 2 release from Decadent Publishing.  Thanks for giving RWBB an exclusive,
never seen anywhere else snippet. 
Hugs & Chocolate! 

Tycen’s heart skipped a beat then pounded in his chest. A petite, curvy woman with big brown eyes and a mass of silky black hair artfully arranged around her face reclined on the wide cream leather chair of the suite’s well appointed living room. Her skin had the natural golden tan of someone of South American descent and her deliciously full lips graced an elegant face. She wore a tailored black suit with a string of pearls adorning her throat. He found her very beautiful in a soft and feminine way and his body stirred in interest.

Not at all what he expected.

He moved out of the foyer and tossed his key card on the polished mahogany table next to a stylish black leather purse that he assumed belonged to her. A carry-on suitcase leaned against the far wall and anticipation sent a rush of desire through his body. “Uh-nice to meet you.” He cleared his throat and resisted the urge to redo his tie. “How did you get into my room?”

“Jackson Castillo let me in. He said your fans spotted you at the bar and it would be better to meet you here.” She uncrossed her legs with a slow grace that made his mouth go dry. “Have a seat.”

He moved to sit in the chair across from hers but she said in a low voice, “At my feet.”

Those words froze him and awakened a part of his soul that had been sleeping since his wife’s death. The command in her voice, the strength that wouldn’t tolerate any arguments. His mind might be conflicted, but his body wasn’t. Before he even made a conscious decision to move he knelt before her on the deep gray carpet. Up close he noticed the flecks of amber in her expressive eyes and the fact that she didn’t wear any makeup.

She tilted her head and considered him. Even on his knees, they were almost at the same height. He wondered how she managed to have such a dominant presence when he could physically overtake her without breaking a sweat.

“Tycen, I come into this knowing more about you than you know about me. I understand why you need me, and what you need me to do.” She took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. “You need a Mistress for the night to help you find your subspace, don’t you?”

He tried to answer her, but the words stuck in his throat. For seven years his wife had been his Mistress, had dominated him in the bedroom and given him pleasure and release like nothing he had ever experienced. He nodded and swallowed past the lump in this throat. If they had any chance of this working, he had to be honest with her. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” she imitated him with a small laugh. Leaning forward, she curled her fist into his braids and pulled his head back, exposing his throat and making him strain to see her. He could have jerked out her grasp any time he wanted...but he didn’t want to. The pressure of having his hair pulled sent a shot of heat straight to his groin and his dick began to swell. “Is that how you answer me?”

“No, ma’am.”

The pressure on his hair lessened as she released him and stroked her hand over his cheek. A path of electric tingles followed her touch and he rubbed his face into her caress. Her soft sigh was music to his ears as he brushed his lips over the thin skin of her wrist and kissed her palm.

“I realize this is only for tonight, but I need this as much as you do. My ex-fiancé who was also my submissive died in combat over in Iraq two years ago.” She briefly closed her eyes and the delicate muscles of her jaw clenched. “I’ve tried to date other men since then, but they are either not into the lifestyle or so submissive I want to shake them and tell them that no one finds a human doormat sexy.”

He raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. She uncrossed her legs and he had a brief glimpse up her skirt. He caught a glance of silky panties between her deliciously rounded thighs and bit back a sigh of his own. His cock twitched in interest and he shifted, wishing he had taken the time to remove his jacket first. The idea of giving total control to her became more interesting by the second.

“I like a man who is a man.” She gestured toward him. “Big, strong, muy macho. I like knowing that all that strength is held in check for my pleasure, that all of that power is mine to use however I want.” Her tone dropped to a husky purr and she held his gaze. “I like to push my men, to have them scream my name when they come.” She leaned closer so that her lips almost brushed his as she spoke. “I like to ride their faces, to grind my pussy on their greedy mouths and make them lick me clean after I orgasm.”

He clenched his hands into fists at his sides, fighting the urge to grab her and kiss those beautiful lips. She had hardly touched him and already his dick throbbed to the beat of his heart. “Please.”

She pulled back and studied him With the tips of her fingers she traced his forehead and stroked down to his cheeks and lips. “What are your limits.”

He’d been thinking about this a lot, wondering how far he would have to go to reach the intoxicating state of subspace. A place where he existed only to feel, where the rush of endorphins filled him with the kind of mind-numbing bliss he craved. In subspace all the responsibilities and demands of his life disappeared. There, he lived only for the pleasure of his Mistress.

His wife had known how to get him there, but the one Domme he had been with after her passing had left him frustrated. She’d been too in awe of his fame to properly top him and the experience left him hollow and emptier than before. He prayed that it wouldn’t be that way with Lara.

He couldn’t just show up at a BDSM club and hope that word wouldn’t get out, and the thought of going to a whore disgusted him. He held the D/s relationship sacred and his submission wasn’t a gift he gave up least normally it wasn’t. Something about this curvy, little woman made his blood boil to serve. He lowered his gaze to her lips and licked his own. God, I want to kiss her. “No blood, no heavy bondage, no burning or scarring. No humiliation or wet play. I don’t like gags or cock restraints.”

“What are your ‘must haves’?”

He smiled at her and liked the way she watched him, as if she noted every detail, every nuance of his expression. “I must be able to make you orgasm. That’s what I love to do, what I crave, to bring you pleasure. Use me, make me do whatever you want—as long as it pleases you, I am happy.”

She leaned forward and slipped his loose tie around his collar and over his head. Her heat pressed against him as she parted her thighs and scooted down so he pressed between their softness. With her legs spread so wide, her skirt rode up to expose the deep amethyst silk panties covering her mound. He couldn’t wait to remove them with his mouth.


Ann Mayburn is an erotica and romance author.  

Seducing your imagination one book at a time.

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Monday, September 12, 2011

Shh...It's a Secret Part II

Last year, right on this blog, I confessed to a secret. A little tidbit about something that's included in my books (you can read it here: ).

Believe it or not, that secret is still alive and well. From my upcoming release, Perfect Limit (The second of the Sypricon Masters series, due out from Decadent Publishing on September 23rd). See so for yourself in an exclusive snippet.

Burke reached down, pulled on Rayna’s hands, and gestured for her to follow. Someone had positioned the old chair covered with dingy yellow fabric he favored into the center of the area. He dropped Rayna’s hand to go sit in the chair while indicating she should face the crowd. Several feet between them, she lowered herself to her knees again, this time without Burke’s order.
Burke nodded to Erik. “Wash her and be gentle about it. Do a good job and you’ll be rewarded. Do an exceptional job and I may let you fuck her.” Out of the corner of Burke’s eye, Rayna froze. He had no intention of letting Erik get anywhere near her in such a fashion, but she didn’t need to know his plan.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

If It Wasn’t Hard, It Wouldn’t Be Any Fun

Special Guest Author, Willa Edwards.

Spicy Erotic Romance Author and Life-Long Book Lover
My mother has always told me I have to pick the hard way to do everything. And she’s not wrong. The easy path has never been my style. How much fun can you have doing everything the easy way? The fun comes from having to work hard at something, to strive and struggle to meet that accomplishment.

The same is true for my writing.

Many might be surprised to know that English was not my highest graded subject in school. But in fact I excelled in math. I slept through algebra and got an A minus, same with calculus. I was in all the advanced math classes. I even scored one hundred points higher on my Math SAT than my English. I actually never did well in English classes.

So I’m sure, if my engineering mother didn’t know me better she would have been squirreling away money for top tier technical school. But no, I wanted to be a writer.

Now, just to be clear, writing being hard isn’t the only reason I love it so much. I have a passion for writing, stories, and people, that transcends difficulty. But if it were easy, would I like it as much, probably not. Some of the things I love about writing, is the searching, the desperate trying to find that right word or analogy. Trying to create just the right hero to make the readers melt, or just the right heroine that every woman can relate to her. Discovering all the right plot points to keep the reader guessing, yet never feeling contrived.

If it were easy to put together the perfect story, it wouldn’t be as worthwhile. If everyone could do it, or if it didn’t take years to learn the story craft, it wouldn’t feel so fulfilling when you finally made it all work out just right.

And, to continue this tradition of always taking the harder path, I also choose difficult stories to tell. I try with each new novel to stretch my writing muscles even farther, whether it’s in the characters I choose, or the situation they get themselves into.

A ménage proved harder than I anticipated. To create three complete characters that can function as one relationship, to justify such an untraditional connection, to balance the emotion and attraction to more than one person. It was quite difficult to find all the right pieces and fit them together, but completing this work has only strengthened and toned those writing muscles even more. And it has filled me with great pride in my work. Now I know I can write any story I want. And I wouldn’t have known that if this work hadn’t been so hard.

So what’s the point in taking the easy way, when doing things the hard way can be so much fun?

Here’s a little excerpt from my new release, Midnight Mirage;
 a challenge and honor to write.


Lincoln and Gabe, best friends and the hottest new alt-rock duo Mirage, only want one thing. Mallory. They’ve been waiting a year for Mallory to open her heart to both of them and accept the alternative relationship they wish for.

Mallory’s flattered by their attentions but can’t believe they’re any more than sweet words. They’re rock stars, surrounded by beautiful woman. They can’t possibly want a plain-Jane reporter like her.

When a crazed fan forces their hand, their protective instincts take over. Gabe and Lincoln aren’t willing to wait for their woman any longer. They initiate her with intense pleasure, ringing in the New Year in the naughtiest way possible. But when they whisper words of love and forever in her ear, she runs away.

Will Mallory be able to open her heart and return their affection, or will insecurity keep her from the men who love her?


“Ready for your interview?” Mallory asked, her voice rumbling with unease as she took the final steps to meet Lincoln and Gabe, the duo who made up Mirage, the band she’d been sent to this New Year’s extravaganza to interview. The ground vibrated beneath her feet from the bass of the band still onstage. She looked up to meet their eyes, the focused heat of Lincoln and Gabe’s gaze burning her like a laser. Mallory tried to ignore the warm fluttering in her stomach at their stare, and the heat climbing up her face.

There was something different about the way they looked at her today. The way they’d watched her approach. Her reporter sense tingled.

She knew these men better than probably anyone else did, beside their mothers. In the year since she’d met them, they’d become the constant in her new, relentlessly-moving life spent searching for new stories and bands. Since she’d started her career last January she could only recall a few instances when she’d gone more than three weeks without running into Gabe and Lincoln. She’d interviewed every one of their opening acts, reported on the same award ceremonies and benefits they attended, and even ended up at the same hotel as they were during their vacation, which she’d arrived at to interview a different musician entirely.

At first it had seemed odd to her, too coincidental, but after a few months on the road she’d started to look forward to these chance meetings. Enjoying each moment with these men, basking in the attention they showed her, the flirting words and accidental touches of Gabe, and Lincoln’s deep eyes focused on her as he quizzed her about rock history.

“Of course.” Gabe’s British accent made him sound overly polite as he spoke. Though she knew he was anything but. He took a step closer to her, so she could smell the aftershave and warm sweat from his performance dabbled on his skin.

“Let’s start with what you two are planning.” Mallory looked back and forth between them, trying to determine the direction of their thoughts.

“We were trying to determine how to get you into bed with us,” Gabe stated matter-of-factly. He glided closer to her, fitting into one side like a key in a lock, while Lincoln circled around to the other, making her feel like she was being surrounded by hungry sharks.

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Whatever You Want, Sir ~ Available with Whiskey Creek-Torrid

Midnight Mirage ~ Available with Siren Publishing

Naughty List ~ Available with Cobblestone Press

Friday, September 9, 2011

Guest Author ~ Pat Cunningham

Happy Flirty Friday, everyone. I was so impressed with my author buddy's good-stuff-for-writers blog, that I asked her if I could post it here. Obviously, she said 'yes'. So, the above sexy eye candy must suffice for those with a flirtatious Friday sweet tooth.

How to Grow a Series
by Pat Cunningham

Let me rephrase that: this is how I grow a series. In general. I’m a pantser, so my approach to any novel, let alone a series, tends to be haphazard. I don’t sit down and plot out a nine-book epic with every single twist and plot point outlined and described. God bless those who can. It’d be a lot easier if I could, but my mind doesn’t work that way.

Tip one: don’t wait for inspiration. You can’t expect your muse to drop in on a regular basis. She may go on strike or get caught up in a CSI marathon or something and leave you holding the keyboard with a blank screen to fill. Forget about her. Sit down and write. You may find your best inspirations happen when you’re in the middle of working. As your fingers fly, so do your thoughts. It’s like dominos. One idea knocks over others, and so on down the line.

Tip two: Ask questions. Answering them results in more ideas. Before you know it, you’ve got the background for a series.

For example, suppose you’re writing about Billy and Susie – or, because this is romance, Blake and Cameron. (Or Blake and Trevor, if you’re writing M/M.) Right in the middle of a tense scene, Cameron suddenly blurts out that her sister has been arrested. Huh? Cameron has a sister? Since when? Never mind. She’s got one now. Three brothers, too, and every one of them is involved in some cause or other. That’s why Cameron never talks about them. The whole family has stories to tell and people to fall in love with. Or maybe Blake lets slip that he comes from a dynasty of assassins, but he left the business because he faints at the sight of blood. What about the rest of his family? What if one of them falls in love with their target? What if one is competing with another assassin for a lucrative government contract? Or is being hunted him/herself? There’s a trilogy right there.

If you’re writing paranormal, as I do, it gets even better. Like werewolves? In a wolf pack, only the alphas mate and breed. Depending on the size of the pack, you could have up to a dozen stories about desperate, sex-starved low-rankers trying to find love behind their alpha’s back. Would they try for other wolves, or go after humans because there’s less competition? Or try to seduce the alpha? All sorts of possibilities abound.

Moving into personal territory, here’s how a single book of mine ended up as a trilogy. I wrote Belonging, my M/M vampire story, to deal with two ideas: the concept of a person raised by vampires, and how the undead can have sex. Plus because I wanted to write Supernatural fan fiction, which is how it ended up M/M. But never mind. While answering these questions, others arose. If vampires can have sex (I figured out a way around the undead problem), can they also reproduce? Can an undead woman get pregnant, or would they have to use a human surrogate? What kind of abilities would the resulting child have?

Right in the middle of writing one book, I suddenly found the plot for another. My M/M couple becomes M/M/F when they come to the aid of a woman who has vampires chasing her. My vampire lead discovers her past and his intersect, as an incident from his human life (mentioned in the first book) comes back to haunt him. Answering the initial question – can vampires have sex? – led to the second – can vampires have children? – which led to a second book. I even got to re-use the main characters, who I really liked. Yay, less work for me.

It didn’t end there. I decided to tie off a loose end from the first book by bringing back a cameo character for a subplot. The slayer who destroyed Jeremy’s vampire family only appeared for half a page, but he left a lot of unresolved issues in his wake. He ended up playing a larger part in the sequel than I’d expected. His backstory hit me while I was writing the flashback chapter in Belonging – remember what I said about inspiration while writing? – so I already knew his whos, whats and whys. I just needed a where for him.

And I found it. My muse waylaid me as I was walking across the library parking lot. The sequel had left its own set of loose ends, in particular the other female victims of the book’s vampire conspiracy. One of them meets up with the slayer. Sparks fly and conflicts ensue. I’m currently sweating over the first draft of yet another sequel to what initially started out as a standalone book. Ta-da! My first series.

Tip Three: when an idea hits you, run with it. At one point in the third book, the heroine researches vampire slayers on the Internet. She comes across a reference to the Colt brothers, a family of slayers living in Texas. This was my little shout-out to the Winchesters for starting it all, and to Jared and Jensen, both Texas boys. Then I remembered: Annie Stanton, my retired slayer from the first book, hails from Texas, and she comes from a large family. Was her maiden name Colt? That mob down there could be her nephews, with a few nieces thrown in. Maybe she helped train them, and still sends them leads. Holy Joe, it’s a spinoff!

Tip four: know when to quit. I’m going to leave those ideas on the back burner while I concentrate on getting the other two books into (hopefully) sellable shape. In the meantime, I can always jot notes and ideas as they occur to me. If you’re looking to start your own series and don’t know what to write about, look no further than your current WIP, or maybe a previous book. Odds are the seeds of a series are sitting right in front of you in the form of a character, idea or line of dialogue, just waiting for some inspiration to help them sprout. Happy growing!

BELONGING by Pat Cunningham

Can a prostitute find happiness with the vampire he loves? Available in e-book and print. [M/M]



Background: born in New Jersey, transplanted to Pennsylvania at an early age. Grew up on a diet of Marvel Comics and Star Trek. Wrote in the SF/Fantasy genres as P. E. Cunningham back in the '80s and 90s.

Currently living in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch Country and writing paranormal romance, which combines the best of all my favorite genres. Favorite pastime: impromptu road trips. Favorite author: Stephen King. Favorite time waster: Cable TV. Without it I'd write a lot more.

Come visit our blog at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS ~
You can also find Pat Cunningham blogging at ~ TITLE MAGIC ~