Jason Paul was her husband. Of course she felt possessive of him—she was in love with him, too! Was it possible to love selflessly, she wondered? Yes, it was very possible to love two people at once. But being in love was different. Love was such a crazy animal. They seemed more tousled than usual. The early days of any affair were always halcyon. Mark shook his head, staring at the wall. Labels: excerpt , LGBT. Tuesday, October 16, Excerptfest Anonymous. Hannah and her husband Nathaniel have always shared one particular fantasy—he wants to make love with another man, and she wants to watch.
What they need is someone else. Someone anonymous. Even when Nathaniel unexpectedly introduces another vibrant young man into their relationship, Hannah remains possessed by her fixation. To what lengths will Hannah go to discover the real identity of "Mr. She ran her fingers down the front of his already unbuttoned shirt and leaned in to kiss his neck. He smelled like wet pine after coming in from the rain. She kissed him again, kissed his cheek this time. Every peck left a pink mark on his flesh. Her lips would be her brush, and his skin her canvas. Nathaniel shrugged.
Hannah felt awful that finger food was the best she could do after promising him a meal to die for. She nuzzled his chest as he chewed. Maybe it was the candles. The whole atmosphere of the power outage fostered creativity. Nathaniel made an Mmm sound deep in his throat as Hannah pulled his shirttails from his navy blue trousers. He kissed her forehead, leaving a dab of wet warmth in his wake. I want to see it in my mind. Her gaze fell into the rocking chair under the vast window of the sunroom extension. Nathaniel set his thick fingers against the shining oak of the rocking chair.
With his back to Hannah, he raised his head to the raindrops drizzling down the great window. She hoped the electricity would never come back on; this naughtiness was much more entertaining than anything on television. Her insides sizzled. Hannah squirmed in her seat. She squealed like a schoolgirl. Where on his face? And what would you touch him with?
Nathaniel rolled his eyes. Hannah cooed at the thought. I wonder what it would feel like. Would it be fuzzy, do you think, or sharp like yours? Nathaniel had an exquisite face: a squared jaw, a dimpled chin, a Greek nose, and a scorching look in his grey eyes every time a dirty thought crossed his mind.
Standing upright beside the rocking chair, Nathaniel stuck his thumb in the air and wriggled it. Swinging her feet up onto the couch, she hid her smile behind the throw pillow and let out a throaty giggle. Labels: excerpt. Excerptfest Friday Night Lipstick. Labels: erotica , transgender.
As Milady skims her fingers through the hair between her legs, I watch her lovely breasts bob in the water. Those pallid spheres call to me, their poor pink nipples distended and erect. I roll up the sleeves of my nightdress before drizzling fragranced oil across her chest. She sighs when I rub my cloth the length of her bare breast, but I am hardly satisfied to touch her skin through a square of cotton. Her nudity provokes irrepressible urges in me.
I must feel her soft flesh against mine. Labels: lesbian , LGBT , six sentence sunday. I spotted this little handout at a community centre in North Toronto, and since I've often heard said there's less support out there for older LGBT individuals than younger ones, I thought I'd post it here.
Friday, October 12, New Release! Lesbian shifters, vampires, and witches come in all shapes and sizes. From the humblest mouse to the most ferocious cougar, from maids and their mistresses to urban vamps and the women they lick, these stories are sure to inspire chills, thrills, and delicious shivers:. Milady winces as she glides into the bathing tub and dunks her head under the water. Her soft breasts float to the surface even before the tip of her nose rises up. Her wet hair emerges and she gasps for breath.
All else but her scraped knees remain underwater.
Category: erotic fiction
Seating myself on a cushioned stool at her side, I soak a square of cotton in the fragranced water and wipe dirt from her face. I promise never to tell a soul. The white cotton turns grey and I must start again with a new square. I have no desire to be intimate with any man. She hisses when I touch the cloth to her chest.
Dorothy is already penning her next book, Life After Promiscuity, about her years with Lee. Her story demonstrates just how hot the process of writing oneself whole can be! Grab the first segment of the story from Amazon. I knew he was there; sensed him before seeing him. I could taste the growling thunder on my tongue. Something in me was stirring, waiting to uncoil. His breath was upon my neck and I waited for the warmth of his lips. He was not the man I loved, but it was not love I sought from him.
I wished for the roughness of a kiss given in the service of jealousy, anger and lust. A kiss which would declare myself to be my own woman: slave to no-one. He placed his hands about my throat, lifting my chin with his thumbs, opening me to his kiss. I was falling and there was no going back. The crows were circling, cawing their alarm, before a blinding jolt of lightning stabbed jagged and I tipped back my head in surrender. He placed his hands about my throat, lifting my chin with his thumbs, drawing me upwards to meet his mouth, his tongue.
His hands pushed away my bodice, baring the swell of my breasts to the cool air, before covering them with warm palms, thumbing my nipples. Breaking off our kiss, he dropped to take one hard point between his teeth, devouring me with his suckling and his teasing tongue, until my cunt clenched. He made me whimper, delving my wet sex with a clutch of fingers before drawing out the thick column of his cock. The sky cursed us with its rolling thunder as I returned the roughness of his lust: biting his lip, breaking his skin with the drag of my nails, pinching the underside of his buttocks to drive him harder.
He was wild and thorough, taking me so violently that I cried out in pain, but I had only one thought: that he must not stop. Join my newsletter for giveaway editions and first eyes! Just as Jess Sanders is adjusting to her new life as the submissive in residence on the fifth floor of The Fables Hotel, her employer, Mrs Peters, makes a startling announcement.
Just who or what is Fairtasia? In order to get back to the fifth floor, Jess is going to have to be far more than just a perfect submissive…. Of course, all the best tales have a mystery to solve, and several twists, to keep us guessing. As she clicked on her screensaver, the Scotswoman peered at her assistant over the rim of her glasses.
Thank you for coming so promptly. I expect it to improve. To lift us from the small, albeit successful business we have established here serving select holiday makers, to a thriving concern with a constant flow of business trade. Ladies and gentleman of some means who, for reasons David may or may not choose to share with us, he has decided to reward with our services rather than financially. This is an opportunity for a new clientele I propose to exploit fully. A memorable experience that will ensure his clients wish to work with him again.
This alliance can only do us good. We will, as I have explained to you twice before, benefit from these changes. Your position here is not under threat.
- The Ravishing of Beauty: Beauty and the Beast Erotica (Fairy?
- Brats of Beverly Hills: Nicolette: A Taboo Erotic Story - Library.
- Les succursales du ciel (Littérature Française) (French Edition).
Nor will it be. That is not why David is having the women bought here. Bristling at the implication that she might feel threatened in some way by the two bits of girls being shipped in from the south, Lady Tia curbed the barbed remark that was forming on her tongue. Elena Ewen may have been half her size, but she was the mistress here at The Retreat, and only a fool would forget that her petite, aristocratic frame was capable of keeping even the strongest Dom in his or her place.
Rather than reacting with a return of the venom being aimed at her, Elena moved to the plush sofa that ran along the side of her office. Picking up her laptop, she gestured for her companion to approach her as she sat and lifted the screen. Inclining her head a fraction in approval, Elena patted the cushion on the sofa next to her. A young, shapely woman was fastened to a white rope hammock, and her ample tits were squeezed through the gaps in the weave. The slight pot of her tummy was squashed against the rope; her reddened face was a vision of climax-preventing concentration.
You will be meeting her in approximately one hour. This is a recording of her final training session before being accepted on to the staff permanently. If you continue to watch you will see that she is not alone. As the camera angle panned outwards, Lady Tia saw that a man had been laid beneath her, and a battle of wills was obviously in progress to see which of them would break and plead for release first.
Elena nodded. Forbidding herself from focusing on the cold palm against her skin, Lady Tia twisted her head sharply. Reports on her are good. One hundred per cent good, in fact. The consummate professional. Whereas Miss Sanders is relatively new to this lifestyle and continues to makes mistakes. The dominatrix watched the screen with hawk-like eyes as Miss Sarah, her slim body perfect in Victorian clothes, chastised a man bending over a desk. So that was the competition. It was time to think tactically, especially as she suspected her own resolve was about to be tested. Her expression is serene yet indomitable.
I would hazard a guess that it is very difficult to read her reactions. Dr Ewen, whose own expression was frequently impossible to assess, was not fooled for a moment by the compliment Lady Tia was laying on the woman she was already sure was already being considered as a rival. But the very fact these women care for each other could be useful to us. Something that, should we need to, we can use to our advantage.
Find Dorchadas House on Goodreads. Purchase Dorchadas House from Amazon. Our fantasies are infinite, and just as much a part of us as our arms and legs. Between identity and desire, we are complicated and beautiful and intense. And so is Erotica. Stories which play out similarly tend to make me smile and there are plenty of those in this collection: cleverly structured tales that offer a wry surprise and a bold twist at their conclusion…. I was in a swoon with both these tales, which play into my own love-affair with fairy tales, and with Norse mythology.
Exquisitely told, and seriously seductive, both stories delve the struggle within us, between light and dark. I love her forthright attitude towards erotica, and sex! As an author and editor, Rose encourages us to read and write to liberate our sexual fantasies, to expand our self-knowledge, and to express ourselves without shame or inhibition.
Dead Sexy af Elizabeth Coldwell, mfl. som e-bog
The Dirty 30 anthology is incredibly diverse, well conceived and executed, and damned hot! You cannot help but be changed. Her meeting with a writer of erotic fiction proves the perfect match for her own particular kink. It encourages us to own our sexuality and to delight in it. Purchase your copy, here. As well as writing masterful short story fiction, Janine has created the Book of the Watchers trilogy, drawing on the Biblical theme of the angels cast from Heaven, and the eternal struggle ever after.
Her themes are sweeping: the nature of good and evil, but also the nature of power and freedom, and our search for fulfilment.
Except, of course, as in all of the most masterful of stories, there is no simple answer. We, being flawed ourselves, are in little position to judge. She has faith in a Good and Loving and Just God. So, against all the precepts of the Church and her family, she frees him … and then finds herself living with the consequences. But wait — you could see Milja as an abuser. She does! Your conscience? Azazel kills without compunction — for him Might Makes Right, and he barely registers that inferior beings have any right to agency.
Well, he learned that one off his Creator. Purchase directly from Sinful Press. Her lover, the fallen angel Azazel, has cast her aside in rage and disgust. The other contender for her heart, the Catholic priest Egan Kansky, was surrendered back into the hands of the shadowy Vatican organization, Vidimus, after sustaining life-threatening injuries. She has killed and she has betrayed.
She is alone, homeless, and at the end of her tether — torn apart by guilt and the love she has lost. But neither Heaven nor its terrifying representatives on Earth have finished with Milja. Both of her lovers need her in order to further their very different plans, and both passionately need her , though they may try to deny it. Milja is once again forced into a series of choices as she uncovers the secrets Heaven has been guarding for centuries. But this time it is not just her heart at stake, or even the fate of a fallen angel.
Praise for this series:. Book 1: Cover Him with Darkness. Book 2: In Bonds of the Earth. I love this series and the final book is a masterpiece. She likes to write about magic and mystery, dangerous power dynamics, borderline terror, and the not-quite-human. Janine has been seeing her books in print since , and her novels and single-author collections now run into double figures. She is co-editor of the nerd erotica anthology Geek Love. Janine Ashbless Facebook.
Amazon UK Author Page.
Brats of Beverly Hills: Nicolette: A Taboo Erotic Story
Amazon US Author Page. I was bootless and naked, almost knee-deep in a drift. I still had my panties in my right hand, but they seemed purposeless so I tossed them away with an uncomprehending laugh, starlight fizzling against my bare flesh. I shook out my hands and lifted my arms to the moon, feeling its glare lap me like a cold tongue.
Every particle of my flesh was filled with its glow. He waded into sight between the small trees, looking around himself in confusion; up at the laden branches, down at his hands. I came to him through the snow, feeling the squeak of its compression beneath my bare soles. He was muffled up in all his outdoor gear, and I recognized my discarded clothes in his gloved hand.
I put his hands on my waist so that he could share my body-heat; they felt cool to me. His pupils were hugely dilated, making his eyes look black and empty. He made a valiant effort to lift his gaze back to my face, but failed. He seemed hypnotized by the sight of my naked body, by the in-curve of my waist and the swell of my breasts. That mead was spiked. I brushed my cheek against his, teasing his lips with the promise of my own. His frozen breath had formed a crust of rime on his stubbled jaw and I kissed it away.
Malin began exploring erotic fiction about five years ago, with the first piece she ever wrote accepted by Rachel Kramer Bussel for The Big Book of Orgasms, published by Cleis Press. Since then, Malin has created a wealth of captivating short-story fiction, often inspired by fairy tales, folklore and magical realism, exploring the themes of grief, isolation, alienation, connection, self-discovery, power dynamics and psychological expression through sex. Or resonance. A sense of understanding — feeling understood and, more importantly, gaining an understanding of situations or people who may fall outside their realm of personal experience.
In her mid-twenties, she began to concentrate her energies on writing. Malin admits that, in watching films, she tends to pay more attention to the actors than plot. That said, one of my favorite movies of all time is Clue; I love the ridiculous humor of it. Art is another important influence for Malin. All of them: his nudes, landscapes, and slices of observed life.
Hopper is all over my Roadhouse Blues. Often listening to classical and jazz while writing, Malin says that it encourages her stream of thought. Oh, my god, do I love early Tom Waits. And electroswing. This restores my mental and emotional energy, for my work. I live with my husband and daughter, who are the loves of my life, as well as two lovely, meddling cats and many, many, many overflowing bookshelves.
Outside of writing, I love to read. I would happily spend my life in books. She has recently released her collection of linked short stories, Roadhouse Blues , with Go Deeper Press. Read my review with commentary from Malin here. Twitter: MalinMJames. Facebook: Malin James. And, she shows how grief and violence mark us — that we bear scars on the inside, as well as those visible on our skin. Malin reminds us that our sexuality is woven through our identity, and that, without it, our stories cannot be fully told.
Contradictions are at the heart of this storytelling, showing that many of the things we yearn for have the power to damage us. Malin shows us the bittersweet and the beautiful, as in Marlboro Man.
I love every inch of this collection. They show us the best and worst of humanity: our jealousy and possessiveness, as well as our capability for love. In Roadhouse Blues , Malin James explores what we fear and what we desire. She brings us all this, and more. Malin tells us that her stories always revolve around her characters. People are endlessly fascinating to me, and observing people first hand kicks up a strong kind of empathy. They usually come in the form of characters or questions, though images prompt them too. More generally, I tend to go with Bach and medieval choral music, though Miles Davis is a mainstay too.
As to her favourite characters from the collection, Malin loves Maybelline, from Marlboro Man. She was one character that came to me almost fully formed. She was so much fun to write. And Sam, from Good Love. I suspect she and I will see each other again at some point. The recovery aspects were very, very hard and came from a deeply personal and yet hopeful place.
There were a number of knife edges I had to walk, not least of which was the process of my own recovery from trauma. The Waitress was difficult too. They both challenged me in a cathartic way. That is what fascinates me — how people relate to each other, and themselves. Sex can be joyful, painful, wholesome, filthy, simple or profound. If people are the subject, then sex is the lens. From a s diner to the back of a rocking Camaro, the stories in Roadhouse Blues reveal sex that is by turns romantic, raw, triumphant, and desperate.
Meet two women grieving the same man, a bartender looking for anything but love, and a hot, brash newlywed who knows she married a cheat. The local garage is run by a kick-ass woman who gives as fierce as she gets, and the strip club is a place full of whiskey and smoke, where memories are exposed as easily as skin. Malin James is an essayist, blogger, and short story writer. Purchase your copy here. Her work incorporates elements of speculative fiction, erotica and Caribbean fiction.
Her latest, highly-anticipated release is a dazzling collection of short stories: Come Let Us Sing Anyway. Apparently, when I was a child I spoke to my father about storytelling in terms of wanting to make people feel. I wrote stories and poems and plays and wanted to make people laugh and cry and think. The process through which an artist creates work and then readers take it in and feel an emotion still feels magical to me. It was her reading of Anais Nin that had most impact however. Inspired by 80s pop, Jamaican dance hall, Prince and Santana, Leone often uses music during her writing and editing process.
I go to music to feel an emotion, to distil an emotion, so I can find the words for it. Also, I experience plotting and structuring of narrative as musical. I have no musical training, and yet I feel as if writing a novel or writing a short story is like conducting an orchestra. So is editing. You can feel the missing beats. Large swathes of her most recent third novel, This One Sky Day as yet unpublished but set on a fictional archipelago somewhere in the middle of the Indian Ocean were written with Jamaican spiritual and religious music — kumina, nyabingi drums, and pocomania — in the background.
Good television teaches you that there is a kernel of clearly realised and expressed characterization at the heart of every dramatic movement. People often tell me they think that my work is cinematic and certainly visualisation is an excellent tool for writers. I can smell them, touch them. As a teenager, Leone became involved in amateur theatre, with some touring in Jamaica. The script becomes interpreted through the body. I probably abandoned Caribbean literature too long. Morrison and Marquez were sufficiently recognizable but also sufficiently alien for me to feel that I was experiencing something new.
As is evident from her writing, Leone finds the extraordinary in the ordinary and vice versa. Come Let Us Sing Anyway , short story collection ed. Her legs were spread so far apart that the muscles inside her thighs were jumping. You may like to read my review, here. In , she judged the Manchester Fiction Prize, alongside Stuart Kelly and judges the annual Wimbledon Bookfest short story competition. Follow Leone on Twitter.
Or find her on Facebook. Kay really knows her outlaws! Kay reveals that she began writing without thought of sharing her work. I just sat down one day, felt a story arrive in my head, and I wrote it down. At an Eroticon conference a few years later, Kay saw a photograph by John Tisbury of a naked woman tied at the wrists and ankles, bent over a hostess trolley, as if on all fours. Take that away and it becomes something entirely different. Erotica written without awareness of the importance of consent is irresponsible. Their origins, the way we use them and the power they have.
What could happen, I wondered, if someone became obsessed with how individuals react to certain words when used in certain situations? His dark blue eyes alone have provided her with many delicious erotic fantasies, a welcome distraction from the pressures of the real world and a dull job. She has over works of erotica in publication, including titles with Xcite, Sweetmeats, and NightsPress.
Find details of her short stories and other publications at www. My secret non-virginity, a boy who betrayed me, and an older man who plucked me up during my teen years because he thought I was a virgin. Who could I trust? I decided to replace romance with sexuality, literally. I was destined to become a writer of erotic fiction. Working on her Masters in Art, Suzette was drawn to the human body and subversive artists, such as Andres Serrano and the German Expressionists. She studied alternative processes in photography, and spent many hours in the darkroom, creating a memoir.
Much of her work is based on contempt for sexist religious practices. How corrupt is that? This featured her photographic image on linen, with her arms thrown out, similar to the Shroud of Turin, hanging above a large, hand-hammered lead sarcophagus. It stirred many people to tears. Others were offended.
Her first position after graduating was with a college Drama Department, where she designed sets and costumes, and applied stage makeup. She moved to a theatre company as their in-house Artistic Director, while freelancing for other theatre venues, including helping in staging Shakespeare productions at local wineries.
It was an invitation to bliss. Modeling clothing for Ci Amber of Hollywood, I danced out onto the floor with a male partner… and got paid for it! This led to some interesting opportunities to meet men. Suzette then began working as a stylist for Penthouse, Inc. She admits to feigning innocence. At that time, Suzette was introduced to Larry Flynt, who asked her to pose for him.
By the mid s, she was managing a high end art gallery in Los Angeles. There, she met an archeologist and joined him on a trek to the Anza Borrego Desert, on the border of Baja. The trip inspired her historical adventure story, Anza Borrego. The same goes for particular films that have touched me. I love the cinematic panning of the desert landscape in the film The English Patient and find its theme of forbidden sex entralling. Later, during the Christmas party, she as Catherine feigns dizziness in order to be alone with him, and we understand the risk!
He finds her naked body beneath her clothing and ravishes her willing body while the crowd, including her husband, continues to party on the other side of the wall. When she returns, her husband suggests she smells of almonds… a heady comment that slayed me! Meanwhile, every time I watch the ending, as Feinnes carries her body out of the cave, the white sheet blowing in the desert wind, I weep with the despair and tragedy of it all! Suzette is now writing full-time and is excited to finish her novel. Bitterroot deals with timelessness and immortal virtual beings.
Little does she know that Alex is cognisant of her every step. Later, her online lover contrives the murder of a man who rapes her. Jacques pushed me down on the velvet sofa pressing his weight on top of me. He straddled me, one foot on the floor, holding my arms above my head with one hand and pulled off my fur hat with the other, letting my hair halo around my head. I admit I felt a longing desire for his flesh because his male scent was intoxicating.
I decided to let him take me, and relaxed…. Afterward, Jacques was sorry, he was contrite. He begged me to forgive him while I dressed and let myself out. She has a Masters in Fine Art and lives at Artspace, Loveland, Colorado, where she uses her studio to paint and explore her photography skills. Improvisational and Avant Garde are my favorites. Find Suzette at The Essential Erotic. From a young age, she took ballet, dreaming of becoming a ballerina. Dancing was in her blood. Fuck you, death. Right now I can fly. Of her reading, Alexis asserts a love for fiction delving the psychology of choice and desire, and the indomitable human spirit.
I want readers to use my stories as both an escape and an entry; a solitude away from everyday life and yet also a vehicle to bring them closer to our common human experiences, and our fundamental desires, hopes and dreams. Alexis is not only an author, but a chemical engineer, a wife and a mom. She loves taking unposed, candid photographic portraits, as well as capturing interesting lines and light. Alexis is a fan of exotic food, interesting travel, people who make her think, and laughing.
She stresses that reading is as necessary as air, and writing is her intoxicant. She writes kinky romance and contemporary romance, featuring heroines who get what they want, both in and out of the bedroom. Interweaving humour, realistic dialogue and poetic prose, she creates books that appeal to the smart, modern reader. Janine Ashbless is known for taking risks, bringing fierce intelligence to her tales of magic, myth and mystery, exploring dangerous power dynamics, borderline terror, and the not-quite-human.
It is motivation and identity. It can be beautiful or ugly, destructive or redemptive, cruel or loving. We need, as individuals, to weave sexuality into our lives, with respect and understanding of its power. It just needed me to discover the genre and realise there was an outlet! Movies often provide ideas for details in my work — the way a god or monster looks, say, or the way one character kisses another — more than plot inspiration. Maybe my ideal writing medium would be erotic graphic novels!
As a writer of fantasy erotica and steamy romantic supernatural adventure stories, Janine pinpoints several works as having directly influenced her writing. Janine owns to a fascination with Victorian Orientalism. Her love of Orientalist art is evident in her novel Heart of Flame , enhanced by her travels through the Middle East. Among more modern influences, Janine recommends Antony Gormley , known for his sculptures and bold, stark installations. Unafraid to tackle the more complex issues surrounding good and evil in mainstream religion, Janine has created a thought-provoking and immersive novel.
When Milja Petak released the fallen angel Azazel from five thousand years of imprisonment, she did it out of love and pity. She found herself in a passionate sexual relationship beyond her imagining and control — the beloved plaything of a dark and furious demon who takes what he wants, when he wants, and submits to no restraint. As Azazel drags Milja across the globe in search of his fellow rebel angels, Milja fights to hold her own in a situation where every decision has dire consequences.
Pursued by the loyal Archangels, she is forced to make alliances with those she cannot trust: the mysterious Roshana Veisi, who has designs of her own upon Azazel; and Egan Kansky, special forces agent of the Vatican — the man who once saved then betrayed her, who loves her, and who will do anything he can to imprison Azazel for all eternity.
Torn every way by love, by conflicting loyalties and by her own passions, Milja finds that she too is changing — and that she must do things she could not previously have dreamt of in order to save those who matter to her. Born in Wales, Janine now lives in the North of England with her husband and two rescued greyhounds. Janine loves goatee beards, ancient ruins, minotaurs, trees, mummies, having her cake and eating it, and holidaying in countries with really bad public sewerage.
From the Apple store or Kobo. KD is pulled time and again towards the conflict between the light and dark, our attraction to what we fear, and our need to recognise both elements within ourselves. What happens in the darkness can be as powerful and as appealing as what happens in the light. From the journey underground comes salvation, as light and dark come together. Impossible tasks and going underground play major roles in my stories. KD is currently exploring the character of Medusa. While drawing inspiration from Greek heroes, KD is similarly a huge fan of the comic book genre, with its larger than life characters.
Of the latter, KD admires her willingness to tackle sex that is realistic, including that which is uncomfortable or unsatisfactory covering also the writing of rape. Struggling writer, Kelly Blake has a secret life as a sex tutor. When Kelly terminates their sessions due to what she considers to be her unprofessional behavior, Lex takes a huge risk, revealing his identity to her at a gala exhibition, his first ever public appearance.
When Kelly helps the severely haphephobic Lex escape the grope of reporters and paparazzi, rumors fly that the two are engaged, rumors encouraged by well-meaning friends and colleagues. They discover quickly that touch is not essential for sizzling, pulse-pounding intimacy. But intimacy must survive secrets uncovered, as their sessions become more and more personal. From well-detailed interactions to the steamy interludes, this is a story that is blazing hot.
She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She loves mythology. She loves to read, watch birds and do anything that gets her outdoors. Sonni de Soto loves to tell stories, exploring not just the world of our sexual fantasies, but the practicalities too.
Not the kismet kind or the magic soulmate sort, but the type that comes with a lot of communication and a lot of earned trust. This echoes the truth that everything we do affects everyone else whether on butterfly-wing levels or typhoon ones. Like people in the real world, everyone has a story.
We all make an impact. The occult lurking in our shadows. Hidden powers that manifest in the meeker among us. The magical meeting realism. A fantasy constructed within—constructed from—reality. For me, kink scenes follow the same logic. Do body parts actually move and react that way? Is proper safety, negotiation, and consent being observed? Does the kink serve a purpose to the plot and character development or is it more flash over substance? Theatre made a significant impact on Sonni from an early age. RENT was a huge influence on me, as a writer and as a person.
That was so powerful: to see that our stories are worth telling and that there are people who want to hear them. I know that all stories have been told in some form or another before, but mine offer my own special spin. Until she meets a man she only knows as Sir. Shamelessly deviant, Hayato knows exactly what Max thinks of Dominants like him. And, determined, he plans to show her more.
Max and Hayato engage in a dance of wit, will, and seduction as they negotiate roles, rewrite rules, and learn the true meaning of empowerment. However, just as their game heats up, someone threatens to drag their private lives into the spotlight. Buy Show Me, Sir here.
Sonni is an office-grunt geek with a passion for cosplay, taking cloth, paint, wire and, even, plumbing parts to bring some of her favourite fictional characters to life. Follow Sonni on Facebook , pay a visit to her blog , or find her on Amazon. Tamara Lush is a journalist with The Associated Press by day and an author by night, having graduated from Emerson College with a degree in broadcast journalism.
The real-life events she reports on rarely end happily, which, she muses, may well have inspired her desire to write stories which do. Back in the summer of , she felt drawn to creating a tale of love, which became Hot Shade : the story of a young reporter who meets a mysterious man while covering a plane crash on the beach. Daringly, she begins to share with him readings of her erotic fiction. Both soon feel the effects, leading to an exploration of their own erotic fantasies. Nature sounds play in the background and various lights shimmer and flicker in the darkened room.
The streaming fabric is tactile and you can lose yourself wandering around. I also love Italian opera and the bombastic drama that it conveys. I think I need more of that drama in my books! While Tamara writes protagonists that she hopes readers will identify with and root for, her own reading choices tend to run a little darker.
About the author. She loves vintage pulp fiction book covers, Sinatra-era jazz, s fashion, tropical chill, kombucha, gin, tonic, beaches, iPhones, Art Deco, telenovellas, colouring books, street art, coconut anything, strong coffee and newspapers. Despite working in the media, Tamara admits to rarely watching television or films. However, having never seen the Disney films as a child, she has recently, at the age of 46, been discovering the magic, watching Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.
Or visit her website www. Today, I welcome Krissy Kneen. Although now focusing on fiction writing, she has previously written for theatre, for film and for television, and has directed documentaries. People say we only ever have one story to tell and that we tell it over and over in different ways.
I really believe this is true. My latest novel, An Uncertain Grace is no exception. Badlands remains her favourite film, delving our quest for connection, and alienation from family. I used to watch that movie over and over, and look at it structurally, and try to replicate that structure in my early novels. I want to pose questions and then I want readers to go away and think of answers. This is how I interact with books I read and I love to share that process with others. All I ask of a reader is that they actively participate in the process. I want my book to be a different book to every reader.
Krissy explains that her love of literature began when her grandmother would pay her 20c for reading and reviewing books. The books themselves became the reward. I started to write because books like R is for Rocket and S is for Space by Bradbury left so much space for me as a reader that I needed to add to the dialogue. This is the most exciting thing for me.