Sunday, April 29, 2012

Sunday with ShapeShifter Seductions ~ Purple Boots

Here's the latest X-Flash Scene at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS

Meet Prudence Penelope, a pea-parrot shapeshifter, her mink shifter sub, Danny, and the elusive Burgess, an Aussi Penguin shapeshifter.

Purple Boots, A Mink Stole and Jingly Bells...
by Serena Shay

Prudence Penelope sashayed down the hall towards sin. There wasn’t a more appropriate name for the room painted in arousal red and containing apparatuses which must have been designed in hell.

"Breathe." Between the gentle reminders to continue taking in air and the tippy-tap of her purple fuck me boots Penelope assumed everything would be okay.

Dante’s call letting her know there’d be a room ready at the pleasure club by six left her floored. While Penelope adored spending time at Dante's, especially in sin, no way could she maintain her word to Burgess under such strain.
In fact, the last thing she wanted was to be anywhere near reminders of the orgasms she'd given up.

Dante however insisted she be there at six and follow each directive he set down.
1. Wear the boots. Tied tight and all the way to the top—no folding them over.
2. Wrap the mink around her throat.
3. Only bells allowed beneath her trench coat.
4. No orgasms.

Rule four became almost impossible to follow considering where the bells from three were laced. She smiled though as Danny's coarse little tongue slid up her neck and behind her ear.

"I'm excited to, Daniel. Two months is far too long to be apart from our blue-haired penguino.”

Burgess had been called away on some super secret, not to be divulged, mission so long ago. The wait for his return began to grind on their nerves.
The last night they shared together he'd requested one thing from both she and Danny—stay celibate until he returned. By the final orgasm wrung from one another, Penelope hadn't seen a problem in remaining sex-free. She’d thought he would only be gone for a short time, but as seven days turned to thirty the urges became harder to ignore.
When one month bled into two, she and Danny neared their breaking point. Being highly sexual in nature they needed a release, but a promise was a promise.

“Okay, we must to calm down.” Penelope tugged at her boots one last time and straightened out the trench coat. “I’d adjust the bells too, Daniel, however that would force me to break my promise, 10 steps away from our Aussie.”
Penelope reached for the handle and pushed the door open, unprepared for the sight that greeted her.

“G’day, Mistress Penny…”

Too long without has turned Mistress Penelope into something of a terror...not letting us see into that room was just mean.


Saturday, April 28, 2012

Flipping for Construction Boys

I'm celebrating my book release this week! Flipped came out last Saturday, and I'm spreading the joy of sexy construction workers.

Both heroes in the story are manual laborers. Which means they're good with their hands...

Mario works as a construction foreman. He gets to spend all day supervising a crew of laborers.

Like this guy:

And Carter is a landscaper, so he can work without a shirt.

Carter and Mario have been best friends for years. They recently joined forces to flip a house. That means a lot of together time as they nail and screw.

But back to the original topic of this post. My new release! Here's a blurb:

Carter Hope would do just about anything for his best friend. When Mario gets the bright idea to buy a POS house together to flip and sell, Carter swears he’s out of his mind. Unfortunately, Mario Gutierrez is hard to resist. After one weird conversation at a bar, and one meaningful look across their empty beer bottles, Carter isn’t sure he’s not the one flipping for his friend.They’re both tops, so to make this work, one will have to give in and roll over. Will Carter’s past let him find new happiness with his best friend?

How about an excerpt?

"Good night, Carter."

Carter's feet shuffled to a stop. Shit. He said my name. He rarely used his name in a good-night, and now he’d used his entire name—not just the first syllable—in that sexy way that suggested all kinds of things they could do rather than sleep. Carter forced his feet to carry him forward and clenched his teeth all the way to the bathroom. He kicked the door shut, braced his arms on the vanity, and took a few cleansing breaths.

He listened as the water ran in the kitchen, then the clink of the drinking glass being set on the top rack of the dishwasher. Carter didn't have to watch to know every move the man made. He could picture the scene as clearly as if he stood next to Mario.

He'd run a hand through his hair, leaving tunnels in the thick black strands. Then he'd start undressing before he made it to the staircase down to his apartment. They'd been friends for a decade, and roommates for close to five years, so Carter knew every pattern the guy had.

Carter turned on the faucet. Partly for distraction and partly to splash some water on his face. Before he could lean over the sink, he had to unzip his fly and pull out his cock. He throbbed. Throwing his head back, he gripped his prick and pulled.

"Oh, fuck." Tingles began almost immediately. Every damn nerve ending in his body stood at attention and buzzed with the tension. Before another stroke, he let go and stiff-armed the countertop again. He sucked in huge amounts of air and blinked rapidly until his vision cleared. Okay, so he'd end the night with some solo play. But not here. He'd wait until he lay in bed with The Late Show turned up to cover his squeaky springs and his own moaning.

He shoved Mario's image out of his spank bank and focused on brushing his teeth. By the time he left the bathroom, his body had cooled down to a slow simmer, but not enough to rezip his fly, so he just tucked his dick into his underwear as best he could. Trying to keep his mind off how damn good his orgasm would be tonight, he crossed the living room to the kitchen because Mario had left the light on—as usual.

Once dark, the entire old house seemed to settle in, curl up like a cat in front of a fireplace. Carter stood in the kitchen, staring at the closed door that stood between him and his best friend. He wouldn't let the thought of walking downstairs and taking Mario into his arms form in his mind. Not going to happen.

So why wouldn't his feet move?

He relaxed his jaw to breathe through his mouth. His eyes started to water from staring at the dark door, but he seemed glued in place.

Go to bed, Carter. The sooner you get to sleep, the sooner you can put this weirdness behind you. He repeated the order a few times before he took a step backward. Just as he did, the door opened.

Mario entered the kitchen, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. He kept hold of the doorknob. Even from across the room—lit only by the neighbor's back porch light shining through their uncovered windows—there was no mistaking the desire oozing out of every pore.

Carter squeezed his eyes shut. He could not imagine shit like this about his best friend. When he opened his eyes, the man stood close enough to touch.

"I'm sorry, Car. God, I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be up here." His words blended together in one long syllable. A clear sign of Mario's anxiety. Some people talked louder when agitated; Mario talked faster. "I don't want to fuck things up between us. You're my best friend. You can tell me to leave. Just say the word and I'll go downstairs, and we'll forget I ever opened that door. We can blame the liquor. Or, God, please tell me—" Mario took another step until his breath washed over Carter's heated skin. "Tell me it's okay. Tell me you want this too, and let me kiss you." Mario's voice had never sounded so damn sexy. The rumble went straight to Carter's balls.

Carter couldn't speak, the alarms going off now drowned by the desire pumping through his veins. He reached up, hooked Mario around the neck, and brought their foreheads together.

"I want this."

If you'd like to read the first chapter, just visit my website.

Thanks for helping me celebrate my new release! Now I'm going to enjoy a nice cold lemonade.

~Olivia Brynn

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Flipped from Silver Publishing


Friday, April 27, 2012

Evocative Art

Guardian Angel by David DeVary
The work of artist, David DeVary , inspired me this week.
David DeVary - Rusty - Shipped Fast, Shipped FreeDavid DeVary - Rodeo Rider - Shipped Fast, Shipped FreeDavid DeVary - We're Comin' Thru - Shipped Fast, Shipped Free
                             Rusty                    Rodeo Rider          We're Comin' Thru              
I'm working in my Eclipse Heat series wip, Trouble in Disguise right now. These pics helped me "find" and develop my heroine, Beau (Miracle) Beauregard, a woman disguising her identity to pursue her career as a bounty hunter.
Trouble In Disguise (Snippet):
His name was Robert McCallister, his handle, The Deacon. Vetted by his kinship to Charlie Wolf and her own instincts, Miracle Beauregard made sure their paths crossed often, which wasn’t that hard, since he took it upon himself to give her advice whenever he could. He’d been waiting in front of the Sundown Sheriff’s Office three weeks  before and laid into her.
“Rock salt? Kid, I hope you know that’ll swell up and jam your gun if you’re not careful. And what the hell are you doing chasing bounty with that kind of ammunition?”
“I aim to leave ‘em alive fer ya to redeem their souls later, preacher man,” she’d drawled.  He was so dadblamed bossy, she’d had to prick his temper some, just for the fun of it. He’d rumbled, actually growled, making him seem even more like a bear. She’d loved it.

But there wasn’t a thing bear-like about him on the day she saw him cut down Luke Johnson in a shoot-out. The outlaw had been in a bar in Abilene. She’d been tracking him for a spell and had the paper on him. Johnson didn’t know her. Shucks, she could have surprised him and taken him out without leaving him dead. Deacon just inserted himself in the mix and took over.

As soon as he came through the saloon doors, Johnson recognized him and went for his gun. The outlaw got off his shot but not before Deacon drew his weapon and delivered a bullet that struck the man over his heart. McCallister’s movements had been smooth, steady and fast as a snake strike. All had taken place in less than the time it took to fry an egg.
Deacon ignored her, crossed the floor and slung the dead man over his shoulder, carrying him from the bar. Before she left town, Mari  made it a point to step in the bounty hunter's path. “McCallister, Johnson was in my sights. Ya got in my way in there.” She included a slab of honey and advice with her complaint. "Coat the wound in this, it'll heal it." 
When he stood staring down at her home remedy, she said, “’Twon’t take but a dab of that to fix up that bullet crease.” She resisted the urge to take the honey and smear it on his cheek herself. Johnson’s bullet had come real close to sending McCallister to meet his maker.  “Bears like honey,” she added. “Ya can eat the rest.”

She felt silly after she told him that and made a point of leaving Sundown right after. But, the pattern for their encounters was set that day. Boss me, you’ll get back the same.
How about you? Does art inspire you? Certain songs get your muse flowing, your thoughts perking?

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Monday, April 23, 2012

New release: A Scent of Longing....a vampire romance

On Friday, April 13, Decadent Publishing released A Scent of Longing, a 1Night Stand story. It’s my fifth published erotic romance and my first paranormal. I’ll let the characters introduce themselves with a brief sketch:

Name: Lily Dansen
Age: 28
Occupation: Graphics designer. Has her own business.
Favorite article of clothing: Pink pajamas printed with white cartoon sheep
What she can never have: All the normal things, marriage, children.
Her biggest secret: She was turned into a vampire by a former lover. Hasn’t told her parents; only her best friend knows.
Why she agreed to a date arranged by 1Night Stand: Her friend signed her up, and transitory trysts are all that’s left for her.
What she’s adamant about: Won’t date vamps. They can’t be trusted.
In her own words: “I can’t date. I’m a vampire now. I’m also a terrible judge of character.”

Name: Luc Fortier
Age: Looks 35, in reality 376
Occupation: Antiques importer
Physical description: Dark hair, very light blue eyes that change color with his emotion
What he can never have: A mate. Who would have a man like him?
His biggest secret: He’s a Half-Breed, an abomination shunned by vampire society
Why he agreed to a date arranged by 1Night Stand: To help out Madame Eve and fulfill the vampire fantasies of her clients
What he’s adamant about: This date will be last. It’s too painful a reminder of what he’ll never have.
In his own words:  “You know what I am now…I had hoped you could overlook my mixed race.”

A Scent of Longing blurb:
Lily Dansen refuses to date vampires. The last time she trusted a one, he turned her. She agrees to a date arranged by 1 NightStand, believing that a quick tryst is all that’s left for her.
A 376-year-old half-vampire, half human Luc Fortier can’t continue to satisfy the vampire fantasies of young ladies while his dreams go unfulfilled. He vows to bedazzle one last date before he calls it quits.
Neither Luc nor Lily expect more than an evening of passion, but they haven’t counted on Madame Eve’s superior matchmaking skills.

An Excerpt from A Scent of Longing
Someone named Madame Evangeline emailed me to confirm my appointment.” Lily Dansen nailed her best friend with an accusing stare. “What did you get me into?”
Her feet curled under her on Lily’s sofa, Roxie Fairchild braved her scowl without a flinch. “It’s for your own good. You’ve moped around long enough. You need to live again.”
“Date, you mean.”
“Date. Have sex. Get wild and crazy. Anything!”
“No man will go out with me once he’s finds out what I am. What happens if I do to someone else what Phillip did to me? I couldn’t live with myself.” Bitterness etched Lily’s voice.
“You’re nothing like Phillip.” Her expression gentle, Roxie squeezed Lily’s hand. Her touch felt feverish, but Lily knew Roxie was fine; she was the afflicted one. “You have a long future, and you can’t spend it alone.”
Lily’s brunette curls bounced with the shake of her head. “I can’t date. I’m a vampire now.” The corners of her mouth drooped. “I’m also a terrible judge of character.”
“You’ve made some bad choices,” Roxie agreed.
“Married. Wanted for armed robbery. Vampire….” Lily ticked off the losers she’d had the misfortune of dating.
“That’s why Madame Evangeline’s 1Night Stand service—”
“—is a bad idea.”
“—is a good idea,” Roxie continued. “You can get your feet wet before you dive into the dating pool. An evening of hot sex with no strings attached will help you get your mojo back.”
Lily scrunched her nose up with distaste. “I don’t see how sleeping with a stranger will help me regain my confidence. And what if he has some horrible disease?”
Roxie chuckled. “A, that’s what condoms prevent. B, Madame Eve screens her candidates carefully. And, C, you’re a vampire now! You’re immune to everything, right?”
“That’s the only positive thing.” Lily hugged herself. The golden color she’d acquired basking on Santa Monica Beach had faded to pasty white, and she would never be able to tan again. If she so much as stepped into sunlight, she’d sizzle like a potato dropped into a deep fryer. And speaking of which, she couldn’t eat french fries anymore either. Or pizza. Or chocolate. But none of those things mattered.
Her throat constricted, and she swallowed. “I’ll never have children.” By turning her, Phillip, the rat vampire bastard, had stolen her chance of motherhood.
“I know, sweetie.” Roxie’s voice brimmed with sympathy. “And damn Phillip for that. But maybe, when you’re ready, you could adopt?”
“Who’d give a baby to a vampire?”
“How would they know?”
“There’d be home visits from a social worker or daytime meetings with an agency, which you know I can’t do!” She raised her hand to halt further painful discussion. “Please, can we talk about something else?”
“All right.” Roxie blinked and smothered a tiny yawn. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s not your fault.” She was out of sync with the world. The clock had struck midnight and her friend could hardly keep her eyes open, but Lily was wide awake. That pointed to another reason she couldn’t date—how could she explain her unavailability during the day?
“There’s no way Madame Evangeline could find a guy who would suit me.”
“She has a gift for connecting people. Besides, I know you. I filled out your online application with your likes, dislikes, and character traits.”
Annoyance warred with curiosity. Curiosity won. “What did you say about me?”


Saturday, April 21, 2012

New Cover Art

Coming soon from Ellora's Cave 

Missouri Hess spends more time hiding her gifts than using them.  Unfair but true, after she makes suffering disappear, folks want her to go away too. Content living alone in the hills of West Virginia, she ignores those who call her witch.
On the night of a full moon, she works her magic to save a beast’s life. Though she’s accustomed to ingratitude, she doesn’t expect to be bitten for her trouble. With that little nip, her world begins to shift.
As a government operative with special abilities, Thomas Hunter works for a sub-agency of the NSA. He’s a shape-shifting jaguar and on his new assignment, the hills are teeming with more than possums and snakes. Thomas has been brought in to track his own kind, but after a certain red-haired witch saves his hide, beast and man have only one thing on their mind–a woman named Miz.
Now Thomas needs to keep them both alive long enough to convince the independent healer she needs a familiar by her side.
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Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Welcome Randi Alexander

New Release, Contest, and Book Giveaway!

I'm so glad to be here today! Thank you, Becca, and all the Romance Writers Behaving Badly. I'm Randi Alexander and I write cowboy erotic romance. I'm published with The Wild Rose Press' Cowboy Kink line. My second Cowboy Kink, Her Cowboy Stud, was recently released.

My big giveaway during April's blog tour for Her Cowboy Stud is a messenger bag filled with adult toys. (Actually, the bag is filled with a gift certificate to Pureromance, but it seems more exciting to say it's full of delightfully naughty goodies.)

Initially, I was going to select the toys to put in the bag. I found a lovely purple vibrator, purple nipple clamps, fuzzy purple handcuffs, a combo flogger/feather tickler (purple, of course.) But then I thought about how different people's tastes are.

In Chase and Seduction, there's a little slap and tickle, a little light bondage. In Her Cowboy Stud, it's more intense. Trace is a Dom, Macy's a sub, and when they meet, yee-haw! They're using ankle spreaders and nipple clamps and floggers and vibrators. I just let my imagination go wild. (I even surprised myself, a little bit!)

Interestingly, I read one review of Her Cowboy Stud that was very complimentary to my writing and the plot, a very high score for the book. But she mentioned that sex toys were used, and warned readers that they'd have to look away if they were squeamish. I found that very interesting.

I wanted to ask the reviewer what her definition of sex toys is. Is it just the vibrators and butt plugs that give her the heebie jeebies? Or is it the floggers and clamps and candles, too? Is bondage equipment (handcuffs, spreaders, etc.) too much, also? Which part made her need to fast-forward to the next scene?

What are your thoughts? How much is too much in a sex scene? What makes you go "Ewwww!" and skip pages? Or is it all good and interesting for you, and the more toys the better? I'd love to hear your opinion.

Trace McGonagall’s quiet life on his Houston stud ranch is shaken up when gorgeous Macy Veralta arrives to claim an inheritance left to her in his uncle’s will. Trace sees her as just another gold digger, but he also can’t resist her curvy body. When she hints at being the perfect submissive to his Dom, he has to have her.

Macy wouldn’t have been three months late to claim her inheritance if she’d known Trace was sin in jeans. The cowboy’s dominant bearing and the smoldering glint in his eyes send shivers to her toes and stirs images of being bound in his bed and disciplined at his hand. But could Trace’s perfect seduction be part of his plan to reclaim her inheritance?


Slowing his pace, Trace eased his cock out of Macy's tight core and reached over the side of the bed for the purple bag. He dumped the contents onto the mattress beside them.

She blinked a couple times. "What are you up to?" Her voice came out hazy but her sly smile conveyed her interest.

How dark were her submissive urges? The toys he'd dumped out were basic. A rabbit vibrator, a smaller anal vibrator, heart-shaped nipple massagers, a vibrating cock ring, and a tongue vibrator. All of them could be used to enhance their sex, but his tastes ran wilder. He needed to bind, to whip and clamp. Would that be too much for her? Would it send her running?

She lifted the nipple vibrators. Grinning, she asked, "For you or me?"

He chuckled. "You. Definitely." He opened the package and pressed the button to start the vibrator on one. Holding her breast in his big hand, he affixed the suction to her hard nipple.

She jumped and her breath left her with a smile. "I like that." The second vibrator caused a similar reaction, and she reached her hands over her head and grasped the pine rungs of the headboard.

His cock twitched and his balls tightened just watching her. Shit. He'd love to tie her to it, tease her and pleasure her until she cried for mercy, but that would have to wait for the next round. He needed to be inside her slit, and damn fast or he'd embarrass himself.

Picking up the big vibrator, he waited for her eyes to lock on his and wagged his eyebrows. "You won't be needin' this any more."

She laughed, a soft, tortured, seductive laugh. "No. I have my own stud, now." She glanced down at his hard rod, which made it jerk and weep for release.

"Try this," she said, reaching for the cock ring and pressing the button to turn on the vibrator through the cellophane packaging.

Hell, how would he get it on his shaft without shooting his cum? He needed a minute. He set it on her stomach, letting the vibrations tickle her bellybutton.

Macy writhed, her muscles long and sleek as she arched her back and circled her hips. He ached to be inside her sweet cunt, pumping, answering her primal rhythm. He looked away, hanging on to his control by sheer force of will. His gaze fell on the vibrating butt plug, packed in a bag with a bottle of lube. Yes. He could see how open she'd be to anal play. He held up the bag, and repeated her words. "Try this?"

A shiver rattled her body as she whispered, "Yes."


To celebrate the release of Her Cowboy Stud, I'm giving away, to one lucky commenter*, an e-copy of my new erotic romance short story anthology, Cowboy Bad Boys. Just leave a comment today and we'll choose a winner tomorrow. *Commenter must be 18 years of age or older to win.

I'm also giving away a custom-made messenger bag and a $50 gift certificate to Pureromance to one subscriber to my newsletter. For more details, and to sign up for this contest, please go to my website,  And while you're there, you can read the first chapter of Her Cowboy Stud.

Good luck, and thank you!


Her Cowboy Stud available at The Wild Rose Press Wilder Roses

Kindle version is available at

Friday, April 13, 2012

Friday Whimsy

Are you a Triskaidekaphobe? Translated--Afraid of Friday the 13th? 
Tris (greek for three) deka (greek for 10) phobe (an individual affected by a certain fear) effectivey a triskaidekaphobe fears the number thirteen, or situation that involves anything in a 13 sequence... When a group of 13 objects is divided into two, three, four or six equal groups, there is always one leftover object.
It is believed that Loki in the Norse pantheon was the 13th god. This was later Christianised into saying that Satan was the 13th angel.  (source)
You're not alone if you feel anxiety on Friday the 13th. More than 80 percent of high-rises lack a 13th floor. Many airports skip the 13th gate. Hospitals and hotels regularly have no room number 13.

On streets in Florence, Italy, the house between number 12 and 14 is addressed as 12 and a half. In France socialites known as thequatorziens (fourteeners) once made themselves available as 14th guests to keep a dinner party from an unlucky fate.

Hope your Friday 13th is a good one!

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Tuesday, April 3, 2012

But you don't *look* like a smut writer

Recently I got some good news in this aspiring-writer adventure, and I was so gleeful I shared it with some buddies. They said the expected congratulatory things and then asked me to tell them a little more about the story in question. I mentioned that it was erotica.



"But I thought you wrote, you know, other stuff." I could hear the mad blushing over Skype.

I 'spect they had me pegged as writing...what? The twenty-first-century version of Little House on the Prairie? And more importantly, why? Because I'm a mid-thirties soccer mom who couldn't balance on fetish footwear to save her life and doesn't wear her pasties out in public? Because I bake a mean pumpkin cake and coo over kittens and don't make a habit of hanging up nudie artwork in my living room?

My guess is that most erotica writers don't wear their club leathers down to the Wal-Mart. Probably most don't even own spreader bars, just some inspirational pics on their hard drives to get them by. I further guess that my very shocked friends have passed by an erotica writer or two in the aforementioned Wal-Mart and never once knew it.

See, we look like normal people. Hell, we are normal people. Just, as I'm finding out, normal people with really fun jobs.

Cross-posted at

Monday, April 2, 2012

Excerpt from DEEP BLUE

by Becca Simone

To celebrate the release of DEEP BLUE (last Thursday), I wanted to tease you with a short excerpt.

She blinked, twice, because this amazing man had to be a hallucination. He leaned toward her across the railing, the muscles in his powerful, bare torso flexing with the movement. His gaze held hers as he moved closer and closer, and then his eyes closed as his mouth touched hers. For just a moment, Kate couldn’t move, and then she gave in to the kiss. He tasted slightly salty, as if he’d been swimming in the sea, but his mouth was hot against hers. When his tongue grazed the seam of her lips, she couldn’t help opening to him, and he thrust inside, swirling and dipping until she had to wrap her arms around him to keep from falling to the deck floor on her rubbery legs.

Suddenly, the air squeezed from her lungs and darkness surrounded her, then the sensation of falling, downward, downward. Shards of ice water knived into every pore of her skin as the sea swallowed her screams.

Available now|Bookstrand

* * * * *
Becca Simone writes contemporary erotic romance from her home in the Pacific Northwest. You can learn more about Becca on her website.