Archive for March, 2009

A ménage a trois by any other name…

It’s the stuff of fantasies for many, a lifestyle for a few, and a deep commitment for even less, but what is really in a name?

Ménage a trois: French, literally, household for three.  It appears such a melodic phrase, doesn’t it? But oh what a tortured history it weaves. Modern interpretation is as ‘threesome’, a sex act, but in fact it is oh so much more.

While of course, the concept of a household of three is longstanding; they are by no means peaceful, nor as simple as ‘just sex’ if history is anything to go by (sex, simple? Lol). Take Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire from approx. the Regency period as an example. She was usurped in her husbands affections by her best friend, and until the day she died was tied into an unhappy marriage and forced to cohabitate with her husband and his much preferred mistress. In opposition to that, by all appearances–even though her life was not at all easy–Lady Emma Hamilton of the same era lived with both her husband and her lover Lord Nelson in apparent harmony until the men’s deaths, only to later die in penury.

Fairly tragic indeed, I must say, but if we fast-forward to today, has it changed much? In essence, I think not much, yet in a wider scale, immensely so. In an age where our sexualities are much more open, people find it easier to embrace some of the sexual opportunities of a threesome–or at least their fantasies of a ménage a trois. But the actuality of living the lifestyle, I don’t know that it’s any easier, but…well, that’s a post for another day.

But what about those late-night-get-you-off fantasies? Because to be sure, a threesome is not a ménage a trois, but ménage a trois is much like polyamory (loving more than one/ responsible non-manogamy)–which is not to be confused with polygamy.

Confused? Let me explain.

No doubt you’ve seen amongst the erotic romance publishers the terms mmf/mfm/fmf or even ffm, they’re all ménage, right? Well indeed, if you’ve got this far, you’ve no doubt figured where I’m going with this–these things are indeed not all like the other. While, indeed they are all an indicator of multiple partner sex in between the covers, it’s not a be all and end all of what’s in the book.

For example: In my first book, Persuading Jo (mmf), two bisexual men have long been keen on their best girl, but not just for some one off sex games, but as an intricate part of their lives. An expansion on the wife, two kids and picket fences deal if you like–only in this scenario there are two husbands and a wife… At the end of the day, these three people are going to spend their lives together as one family unit– ménage a trois at it’s most literal, and polyamorous, the situation of loving more than one.

Now in total opposition to that in Par 3 (mfm), a husband and wife are both separately wondering if their marriage has run its course, while at the same time hoping it hasn’t.

It’s the outrageous suggestion by a friend of a threesome to kick-start their waning sex life that’s at the heart of this story. In this instance, I class this story as a threesome. I also put Curious Intimacies in this group too, even though it comes with the mmf classification. My main reason–because at the end of the day it’s just all about the sex between the three. There’s plenty of love, of course, between our main couple (in these two cases m/f), and much affection between them and their third, but that’s where it ends. It’s arousing and daring and outrageous, but fleeting…at least as far as the sex goes, anyway; it’s an experience, not at all a lifestyle. (but oh man, what an experience!)

But that’s not to say all mfm books are threesomes. Witch Vamp Were? is a case in point. The trio of Witch, Vampire and Were end up in a committed polyamorous relationship, but rather than a sexual circle where the sexual loving goes in all directions, it’s a little more linear with the heroine being in the center receiving love from both ends. The ends don’t touch…well, that’s the theory, anyway. Sometimes I wonder if I might let that line might get a little wiggly.

At the end of the day, what does this mean to you, the reader? Well, what it does mean is that you get your fantasies fulfilled either way. Whether it’s a sexy, naughty one off encounter that you and your lover have with a stranger (or indeed a close friend), or a story about sexual fluidity that allows you to vicariously live loving more than just one partner, we ménage authors have got you covered.

To find out more about Anne Douglas visit her website at:http://www.annedouglas.com/

Send ‘em Packing by Hannah Beckham http://www.changelingpress.com/author.php?uid=93

Rating: Five Angels

“Well written with an engaging plot, lots of action and some nice hot sex scenes, this is one series that I don’t want to end.” – Hayley, Fallen Angel Reviews
“Witty dialogue, sexy situations and a fast pace give us Packing Up by author Hannah Beckham…. A smart ass heroine I really liked and two hot men in an interesting situation make Packing Up a welcome addition to the series!” – Lisa, Joyfully Reviewed
5 Stars! “The sex was amazing and erotic…. I read the story in a short amount of time, and relished every moment. The pacing and plot kept me glued to the screen. I cannot wait to read more from Ms. Beckham.” – Suni Farrar, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

Summary:

Maya Eddings, a six-foot empath, owns a private security firm in Kansas City. Whether she’s wearing sneakers or Prada, she never leaves home without her best accessory, a 9mm handgun. Maya’s life couldn’t be better, with the exception of two men who want her to be exclusively theirs.

Matt Brewer is an investigator for a law firm, and a werewolf. He wants Maya to be his life mate, but while she likes a little tail, actually growing one isn’t all that appealing to her. Besides, his mother hates her.

Stephen Daniels, architect and part incubus demon, thinks Maya can be the cure to his incessant one-night stands. He wants her — body and soul. Okay, really he just wants her body. But Stephen’s her best friend’s younger brother and that could get sticky.

With a mystery to solve and two hunkalicious men fighting for her attention, Maya’s beginning to wonder if she’s bitten off more than she can shoot.

Send ‘em Packing: Packing Heat by Hannah Beckham

Excerpt:

She turned to Matt, the fog in her brain clearing. His blue eyes had started to turn wolfish, gold rimming the edges of his irises. Shit, shit, shit. Her gun was in the living room in her purse and if he turned again she wouldn’t be able to stop him. “You have to leave, Stephen. Put some distance between the two of you. Whatever you’re doing to him, it has to stop.”

“It’s too late. My pheromones are airborne and they’ve saturated the room.”

“Airborne, Jeezus.” How delightful. Not. Maya could feel the little vein in her forehead pop as her pulse quickened.

Stephen scooted in closer. “Being afraid just gets him more excited,” he whispered as Matt licked her shoulder.

No shit, Sherlock. “I… how can I keep him from changing?” she asked Stephen since Matt no longer seemed to care about conversation — his hands roaming her body, pushing at her shirt, his shirt already gone. When the hell had that happened?

“I can help, but you have to trust me.”

“Trust you, my ass.” If she could run, she would, but her legs were like solid planks nailed into place. “You’re a demon.”

“That doesn’t mean evil, Maya. It just another way of saying different. Like Matt’s different. Like you’re different.”

“I’m not a demon or Lycan.”

“No, but not quite like other humans, are you?”

Tension pulled tight through Maya as Matt’s mouth nipped along her arm and his hands fumbled with his pants. “Why aren’t you stopping him?”
“I can’t. Any act of aggression will force the change in him. And if that happens…”

“He’ll kill us both?” she asked hopefully.

“He’ll fuck us both. You’ll be changed into a Lycan, and when he changes back, he’ll hate himself for doing it, and for doing me.”

Okay, the fact that Matt would fuck them both was bad enough, but what the hell had Stephen said about changing her? “I would be made Lycan?”

Maya tried to pull away from Matt and he responded with a snarl, his blue eyes nearly all yellow now and his fingernails elongating, thickening like claws. She eased back into his grasp and couldn’t seem to get enough air.

“Didn’t he tell you? There’s two ways to become Lycan, you can be born that way, or transformed through sex with a lycan in full on werewolf mode. It’s a protein in the semen that does it.”

Gulping in a breath, Maya muttered, “God damn, damn.” That’s why Matt had meant to have sex with her after he’d changed the night before. “What can you do to help?”

“I can make him come with me.”

“And that’s going to help how?” She couldn’t believe what he was suggesting. Bad enough having two lovers, but two at the same time?

Shift Work by Hannah Beckham

http://www.changelingpress.com/author.php?uid=93 Summary: Trinity Staten works as a file clerk by day and a hunter by night. Her parents were slayers, and until they died when she was sixteen, they’d raised Trini to do the same. Her unique ability to shift skin color like a chameleon is an invaluable tool in the fight against the monsters. Since a one-night stand went bad, Trinity’s been unable to control her natural camouflage.

Merlin Davitch, super-hot genius and Trinity’s best friend, is trying to discover why her body is changing. Merl is the only family Trinity has left, but if she can’t stop going into heat every time he’s near, she’s afraid she’ll lose him too.

On top of that, suddenly the demons are knocking on her door. The hunter is becoming the hunted.

She seeks help from an unlikely ally, Newton Price, a telepath who works for the demons. He is buff and beautiful, with scars of his own, but he won’t stay out of her head, literally.

If she doesn’t get her shifting ability, her raging hormones, and her life under control, she’s going to become demon bait. As the mystery unravels, Trinity tries to hold on to her sanity and her men, and she discovers more about her origins than she ever wanted to know.

Shift Work 1: Late Shift by Hannah Beckham

Excerpt:

He heard her call, felt her need, and still, Newton hesitated. Watching her fuck Merl, his own cock threatened to blow at the sight of Trinity’s ghostly naked form. So, why did part of him want to runaway?

Because she doesn’t love you, he thought. That’s why.

Sure, he could feel Trinity’s desire for him, but it wasn’t a fraction of what she felt for Merlin Davitch. If he did this, something inside his head told him it would be forever. He’d been listening to her thoughts all muddled and muddied, like a mental ward on steroids. He knew the costs if he denied her, but could he live with being second best in her heart?

His body said yes, his own heart wasn’t so sure. He’d been hurt before. Emotions clouded his judgment, clouded his ability. Could he go through that again? Would it be even worse this time?

Newton! He heard her call again. There was power in it this time, leaving him staggered with a driving lust. Thinking was keeping him from fucking her.

Thinking was overrated.

Pushing his jeans to his thighs, he straddled Merl’s legs and leaned over Trinity’s back. “I’m here,” he whispered. Her skin mimicked the floor and Merl’s naked body, but he knew it was all Trinity he felt in his arms.

“In me,” she begged. “Fuck me.”

Merl stopped his upward thrust into Trinity, intuitively giving her time to adjust as Newton slid his cock into her slickly ready pussy. It was difficult at first, Newton’s cock competing with Merl’s for room inside Trinity. But she reached between her legs and stroked their erections at the same time, pressing them together, she managed to squeeze them both in.

All three of them moaned at the same time as Trinity rocked her hips downward and back. She felt so hot and tight and around his shaft, and add in Merl’s cock sliding up and down his own, Newton didn’t think he could last. Not as long as she needed him to.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Trinity mumbled. Newton could feel and hear the pain in her mind ebbing, leaving her body like a tide rolling out to sea.

He matched rhythm with her gentle rocking, thrusting forward when she would rock back.
Merl’s cock drawing out, Trinity’s pussy sliding down, then her sliding up, as Merl slid in. The sensation was amazing, like nothing he’d ever felt before. The closest his mind could come to grasping the feeling was being stroked, sucked, and fucked all at the same time. His eyes met Merl’s through Trinity’s chameleon skin, and neither of them looked away.

To Find out More about Renee George go to her website: http://www.romance-the-night.com/Renee_George

To Find out More about Hannah Beckham go to her website:http://hannahbeckham.com/

Behind the scenes bit:
Looking at my first notes for Unity I started with the words ‘Ceremonial Menage’.  I have a few more indecipherable scribbles after that with Alena being the heart of the city and sex with Vadim and Sacha needing to bring out her power.
I’m a pantster when I begin a new story.  I let myself find out what it’s about in the first two, three thousand words.  Though in my first few scribbles, I didn’t yet have names for my characters.
I remember sitting with my big fat book of names and rifling through it.  I work everything out by how it feels and something about the characters felt Russian so I started there. I hang my characters off their names, once I have a name the character will fall into place for me and he or she couldn’t be called anything else.  Alena, Vadim and Sacha jumped out at me and my last scribble in my note book is their full names.  Then it was time to play… *grin*

buy link: http://www.liquidsilverbooks.com/books/unity.htm

Blurb:

The Talar murdered her mother and her sisters, but to save her city from their attacking armada, Alena Petrova Dubov, Imperial Princess of the Rodin, must put aside her hatred and sleep with the enemy.

It’s an ancient ceremony, shared with two men bred for her pleasure. Or it should have been. Her generals had chosen Vadim, son of a Talar captive, to satisfy her, joining her oldest friend, Sacha, in bringing her to exquisite ecstasy.

The ritual will change her, transform her flesh until she becomes one with her city. With the prospect of her enemy’s power flowing within her, Alena is terrified of what she will become. But first she has to complete the ritual … and hope that her overwhelming attraction for her enemy doesn’t destroy the city she’s so desperate to protect.

Warning:  This story contains: m/f/m ménage, anal play/intercourse, violence, ritual sex, oh and a little bit of light bondage. Busy, busy, busy…

Excerpt:
Alena blinked away the water from her eyelashes. Water splashed over his body, and he twitched, gasping at what was obviously a freezing rush. He planted his hands on the black tiles and turned his face to the water. Her own shower was suddenly too hot … but she couldn’t look away from the sluice of water running over his tanned, muscular back, buttocks, and thighs. Tension coiled low in her pelvis, and her nipples lifted, hardened. Him and a bed. Alena let her gaze linger on the straining muscles in his arms. Hell, just him. Up against the wall. Hard. Fast.

She groaned and adjusted the temperature of the shower. Cool water splashed in a rush over her skin, and she bit back a yelp. She needed the distraction. Vadim was off-limits until the rise of the second moon. Her teeth chattered, and she ran a palm over the panel. The stream of water died. Shivering, she scuttled across the room to the cache of towels and robes stored in a discreet cabinet.

Towelled dry, she threw on a robe. Get out, get to her bed, hide. Daylight and the grind of work would take her mind off her need to screw the man in the shower.

Vadim reached past her and grabbed a towel. Damn the man was quiet. His closeness had her skin all too aware of him again. Her mother had never given her strength-giver a second look. General Mishenka still had the bitter turn to him, a narrowness to his eyes that forty years of being spurned by his empress had cut into his face. Her sister Antonina’s father had been her mother’s knowledge-giver, years after she ascended the throne.

Alena stared at the wet floor. She should run with her first plan, get the hell out of the room. But Vadim intended to stick with her … so it was easier to stand there and listen to him rub a towel over his cool, clean skin… She squeezed her eyes shut. This was crazy. A day. That’s all it was. Another day, and she could manacle the flight-captain to her bed, have his lithe body stretched out and at her mercy…

She groaned and thought about walking straight back into the cold shower. No, there’d never been any mention of such an awareness of the strength-giver, the need to push him back against the wall and run hands over his clean, muscular torso.

“Now we have to sleep together.”

Alena choked and coughed it out. “Sleep together?” Her voice was little more than a squeak. “I can’t…” She waved down his robe. “…with you…”

“Sleep, Alena,” he said but the sudden shine of levity in his eyes seemed … forced. His gaze dropped. He tugged at the belt and tightened the long black robe around his waist. “General Mishenka explained the ritual in detail.”

And she’d forgotten it. Her prurient research had always involved the time in the little chamber … not what had to happen afterwards. It was why the empress had such a big bed, after all. “We all have to curl up together.”

A wince pulled at his cheek. “Yes.”

Before she realised it, her fingers had smoothed over his jaw. The contact jolted him. Her heart tightened. Was her touch offensive? “You’re making me feel unwanted, Vadim.”

He pulled in a breath, and he stepped back beyond her touch. The intensity to his silver eyes had her blood pounding. His hands curled into fists. “Don’t, Alena. I’m here to prove my strength and discipline. You touch me again? I’ll have you so hard up against that wall I’ll not give a fuck that this city will die.”

Her breath hitched, and heat melted through her body. She pulled her hands into tight fists, because she wanted nothing more than to reach out and stroke his cheek. That would be wrong. But she still found herself moving forward, stepping into his personal space. Alena felt outside of her own body, taunting him, but she had to. Her body twisted tight with a need she didn’t want to deny. “How hard?”

“Alena…” He almost growled her name, and a flush stained his cheeks. “Stop.”

She lifted her hand, her fingers tracing over the smooth material of his robe. The hard muscle of his pectoral jumped at her touch. The power she had over him intoxicated her. “You didn’t answer my question, flight-captain.”

“This is not a part of the ritual.”

Her hand slid lower, the glide of her fingers melting into the sound of his harsh breathing. The heat of his skin bled through the robe … and still her hand skirted lower, lower.

Vadim grabbed her wrist, his fingers locking tight. “Don’t play this game.”

Her other hand pressed against his abdomen. Muscles tensed, and he hissed as she teased a finger down. Through the material, her palm brushed against the solid length of his erection–

With a growl, Vadim yanked her hand away and barrelled her back. Alena hit the tiled wall with a thump that winded her. Pinning her arms above her head, he leaned in so close his breath brushed her cheek, his hard body crushing her to the wall. His cock strained against her belly. She sucked in a short breath, the ache to have him tearing through her.

“I had to hold you open so another man could fuck you. Have you any idea…” He sucked her earlobe in his mouth, his teeth nipping. Alena groaned and arched against him. “I’m still enough of my father’s son, enough of a Talar, to find that an…abomination.” His mouth hovered over hers, his hands flexing around her wrists. “I want to make you scream.”

For more on Kim Knox visit her website at: http://darknessandromance.wordpress.com/

Hi everyone!

Some news! Tartan Twins has been moved up to April 17th. *Grin* I’ll let you know when White Russian is released.This Sunday will kick off Menage week on the blog. and there are some awesome authors in the line up. I’m also looking at doing a Geek Out Week where we talk tech, shows and books we love and other great stuff. I’m also leaning toward an Action Week and a few other special theme weeks.

The Appearance page has been updated.

I have to say my first book signing was fun. I got a kick out of seeing the Love’s Pantheon Anthology in Print. I didn’t take many pictures, only four and they were all of the display at the front of the store. Only three readers showed up and we got talk and some authors did interviews for a really cool show. I didn’t, still camera shy. lol. Here are pics of the display. LOL. Next time I’ll remember to take more piccies and wear comfortable shoes. LOL. By the end I was walking really slow. LOL. I can’t wait to do another one.

I also signed up for Authors After Dark, it’s the only Convention I’ll be attending this year.You can check out the details here:

www.authorsafterdark.net

Hope to see you there.

Okay that’s it for now. Hugs all around,

Se

A blue moon’s coming and for shape-shifter Shannon McFelan, it’s bringing nothing but trouble. Something she’s got enough of already. Her body has mysteriously turned on her, going into Heat for the second time this year and at the worst possible moment. It will take all the cunning in her possession to survive this lunar cycle without ending up mated – a fate while not worse than death, runs a close second.

Vampire Nikolai Taranosky knows exactly what’s wrong with Shannon. He’s the reason she’s in Heat. By the waning of the blue moon she’ll definitely be mated — to him — despite what Shannon, her wolf, or anyone else thinks about it.

http://www.loose-id.com/prod-True_Mates__Nikolai_s_Wolf_-897.aspx

My web addys:

www.zenawynn.com

www.myspace.com/zenawynn

www.zenawynn.blogspot.com

Author Bio:

I love to read. I love to read books that can take me out of my ordinary life into an extraordinary reality. I don’t just read. I become. To me, a really well written book is like a mini-vacation., without all the hassles. My greatest hope is that after reading one of my stories, you’ll feel the same.

The mother of three (four if you count Lady, our dog), grandmother of two, when not busy with family or church, I can most likely be found in front of the computer writing or escaping into a book.

Hi all!  This is a blurb and excerpt from Club Shadowlands, the first in the Masters of the Shadowlands series. The next will be out April 7^th.

CLUB SHADOWLANDS by Cherise Sinclair (excerpt rated PG-13, book rated hot)

Genre: BDSM Full-figured Heroine    Length: Novel   Out now from Loose Id
Blurb —
Her car disabled during a tropical storm, Jessica Randall discovers the isolated house where she’s sheltering is a private bondage club. At first shocked, she soon becomes aroused watching the interactions between the Doms and their subs. But she’s a professional woman–an accountant–and surely isn’t a submissive . . . is she?

Master Z hasn’t been so attracted to a woman in years. But the little sub who has wandered into his club intrigues him. She’s intelligent. Reserved. Conservative. After he discovers her interest in BDSM, he can’t resist tying her up and unleashing the passion she hides within.

Publisher’s Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, strong BDSM theme and content (including/not limited to bondage, caning, restraints, spanking, etc), exhibitionism, voyeurism.

*******************************************************************************************

Excerpt —

Jessica Randall scrambled out of the water-filled ditch, her heart hammering. Frigid rain slashed through the dark night, drenching her face and clothing. Gasping for breath, she knelt in the mud, surprised to have made it to the bank in one piece. She glanced over her shoulder and shuddered. Alligators loved to hang out in Florida ditches. A few moments more and she could have been… She stifled the thought with a shudder.

Hands shaking, she scrubbed the water off her face and pushed to her feet.

As her fear diminished, she peered through the darkness and could barely see her car. Poor little Taurus, nose down with water roiling around the hood.

“I’ll be back for you. Don’t worry,” she promised, feeling like she was abandoning her baby.

Once on the narrow country road, she pushed her tangled hair out of her face and looked each way. Darkness and darkness. Dammit, why couldn’t she have an accident right in someone’s front yard? But no, the nearest house was probably the one she’d passed about a mile back. She headed that way, stopping to glare at the pool of water where her car had aquaplaned right off the road. The armadillo, of course, was long gone. At least she hadn’t hit it.

Head lowered, she trudged down the blacktop toward the house, getting wetter and wetter. Hopefully she wouldn’t trip on something in the darkness. Breaking her leg would be the final straw in a day that had been a disaster from start to finish.

Number one mistake: meeting at a halfway point for their first date when the man lived miles and miles outside of Tampa.

He sure hadn’t been worth the trip. She’d have found more excitement auditing business accounts. Then again, he hadn’t appeared all that impressed with her either. She grimaced. She’d recognized the look in his eyes, the one that said he really wanted tall and slim, an Angelina Jolie type woman, no matter that her posted picture portrayed her quite accurately: a pint-size Marilyn Monroe.

So far, she’d have to say finding a guy through the Internet rated right up there with back-country shortcuts, her second mistake of the day.

Aunt Eunice always swore things happened in threes. So would braking for an armadillo be considered her third mistake, or was there another disaster lurking in her near future?

She shivered as the wind howled through the palmettos and plastered her drenched clothing against her chilled body. Couldn’t stop now. Doggedly, she set one foot in front of the other, her waterlogged shoes squishing with every step.

An eternity later, she spotted a glimmer of light. Relief rushed through her when she reached a driveway studded with hanging lights. Surely whoever lived here would let her wait out the storm. She walked through the ornate iron gates, up the palm-lined drive past landscaped lawns, until finally she reached a three-story stone mansion. Black wrought iron lanterns illumined the entry.

“Nice place,” she muttered. And a little intimidating. She glanced down at herself to check the damage. Mud and rain streaked her tailored slacks and white button-down shirt, hardly a suitable image for a conservative accountant. She looked more like something even a cat would refuse to drag in.

Shivering hard, she brushed at the dirt and grimaced as it only streaked worse. She stared up at the huge oak doors guarding the entrance. A small doorbell in the shape of a dragon glowed on the side panel, and she pushed it.

Seconds later, the doors opened. A man, oversized and ugly as a battle-scarred Rottweiler, looked down at her. “I’m sorry, miss, you’re too late. The doors are locked.”

What the heck did that mean?

“P-please,” she said, stuttering with the cold. “My car’s in a ditch, and I’m soaked, and I need a place to dry out and call for help.” But did she really want to go inside with this scary-looking guy? Then she shivered so hard her teeth clattered together, and her mind was made up. “Can I come in? Please?”

He scowled at her, his big-boned face brutish in the yellow entry light. “I’ll have to ask Master Z. Wait here.” And the bastard shut the door, leaving her in the cold and dark.

Jessica wrapped her arms around herself, standing miserably, and finally the door opened again. Again the brute. “Okay, come on in.”

Relief brought tears to her eyes. “Thank you, oh, thank you.” Stepping around him before he could change his mind, she barreled into a small entry room and slammed into a solid body. “Oomph,” she huffed.

Firm hands gripped her shoulders. She shook her wet hair out of her eyes and looked up. And up. The guy was big, a good six feet, his shoulders wide enough to block the room beyond.

He chuckled, his hands gentling their grasp on her arms. “She’s freezing, Ben. Molly left some clothing in the blue room; send one of the subs.”

“Okay, boss.” The brute ?? Ben ?? disappeared.

“What is your name?” Her new host’s voice was deep, dark as the night outside.

“Jessica.” She stepped back from his grip to get a better look at her savior. Smooth black hair, silvering at the temples, just touching his collar. Dark gray eyes with laugh lines at the corners. A lean, hard face with the shadow of a beard adding a hint of roughness. He wore tailored black slacks and a black silk shirt that outlined hard muscles underneath. If Ben was a Rottweiler, this guy was a jaguar, sleek and deadly.

“I’m sorry to have bothered ??” she started.

Ben reappeared with a handful of golden clothing that he thrust at her. “Here you go.”

She took the garments, holding them out to keep from getting the fabric wet. “Thank you.”

A faint smile creased the manager’s cheek. “Your gratitude is premature, I fear. This is a private club.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Now what was she going to do?

“You have two choices. You may sit out here in the entryway with Ben until the storm passes. The forecast stated the winds and rain would die down around six or so in the morning, and you won’t get a tow truck out on these country roads until then. Or you may sign papers and join the party for the night.”

She looked around. The entry was a tiny room with a desk and one chair. Not heated. Ben gave her a dour look.

Sign something? She frowned. Then again, in this lawsuit-happy world, every place made a person sign releases, even to visit a fitness center. So she could sit here all night. Or…be with happy people and be warm. No-brainer. “I’d love to join the party.”

“So impetuous,” the manager murmured. “Ben, give her the paperwork. Once she signs ?? or not ?? she may use the dressing room to dry off and change.”

“Yes, sir.” Ben rummaged in a file box on the desk, pulled out some papers.

The manager tilted his head at Jessica. “I will see you later then.”

Ben shoved three pages of papers at her and a pen. “Read the rules. Sign at the bottom.” He scowled at her. “I’ll get you a towel.”

She started reading. Rules of the Shadowlands.

“Shadowlands. That’s an unusual na ??” she said, looking up. Both men had disappeared. Huh. She returned to reading, trying to focus her eyes. Such tiny print. Still, she never signed anything without reading it.

Doors will open at…

Water pooled around her feet. Her teeth chattered so hard she had to clench her jaw. There was a dress code. Something about cleaning the equipment after use. Halfway down the second page, her eyes started blurring. Damn it all. This was just a club, after all; it wasn’t like she was signing mortgage papers.

Turning to the last page, she scrawled her name.

When Ben returned, he checked the papers for her signature, handed her a towel, and showed her into an opulent restroom off the entry. Glass-doored stalls along one side faced a mirrored wall with sinks and counters.

She glanced in the mirror and winced: short, pudgy woman, straggly blonde hair, pale complexion now blue with cold. Surprising that they’d even let her in the door. Dropping the borrowed clothing on the marble counter, she kicked her shoes off and tried to unbutton her shirt. Her hands were numb, shaking uncontrollably, and time after time, the buttons slipped from her stiff fingers. She couldn’t even get her slacks off, and she was shuddering so hard her bones hurt.

“Dammit,” she muttered and tried again.

The door opened. “Jessica, are you ??” The manager. “No, you are obviously not all right.” He stepped inside, a dark figure wavering in her blurry vision.

“Permit me.” Without waiting for her answer, he stripped her out of her clothes as one would a two-year-old, even peeling off her sodden bra and panties. His hands were hot, almost burning, against her chilled skin.

She was naked. As the thought percolated through her numb brain, she jerked away and grabbed at the dry clothing. His hand intercepted hers.

“No, pet.” He plucked something from her hair, opening his hand to show muddy leaves. “First a shower.”

He wrapped a hard arm around her waist and moved her into one of the glass-fronted stalls behind where she’d been standing. With his free hand, he turned on the water, and heavenly warm steam billowed up. He adjusted the temperature.

“In you go,” he ordered. A hand on her bottom, he nudged her into the shower.

The water felt scalding hot against her frigid skin, and she gasped, then sighed as the heat began to penetrate. After a minute, she realized the door of the stall was open. Arms crossed, the man leaned against the door frame, watching her with a slight smile on his lean face.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, turning so her back was to him. “I can manage by myself.”

“No, you obviously cannot,” he said evenly. “Wash the mud out of your hair. The left dispenser has shampoo.”

Mud in her hair. She’d totally forgotten; maybe she did need a keeper. After using the vanilla-scented shampoo, she let the water sluice through her hair. Brown water and twigs swirled down the drain. The water finally ran clear.

“Very good.” The water shut off. Blocking the door, he rolled up his sleeves, displaying corded, muscular arms. She had the unhappy feeling he was going to keep helping her, and any protest would be ignored. He’d taken charge as easily as if she’d been one of the puppies at the shelter where she volunteered.

“Out with you now.” When her legs wobbled, he tucked a hand around her upper arm, holding her up with disconcerting ease. The cooler air hit her body, and her shivering started again.

After blotting her hair, he grasped her chin and tipped her face up to the light. She gazed up at his darkly tanned face, trying to summon up enough energy to pull her face away.

“No bruises. I think you were lucky.” Taking the towel, he dried off her arms and hands, rubbing briskly until he appeared satisfied with the pink color. Then he did her back and shoulders. When he reached her breasts, she pushed at his hand. “I can do that.”

He ignored her like she would a buzzing fly, his attentions gentle but thorough, even to lifting each breast and drying underneath.

When he toweled off her butt, she wanted to hide. If there was any part of her that should be covered, it was her hips. Overweight. Jiggly. He didn’t seem to notice.

Then he knelt and ordered, “Spread your legs.”

—–

Buy link:   http://www.loose-id.net/prod-Club_Shadowlands-867.aspx

Cherise Sinclair

CLUB SHADOWLANDS  Loose Id / out now

www.cherisesinclair.com

Hi all!  This is a blurb and excerpt from Dark Citadel, the second in the Masters of the Shadowlands series. It’s due out April 7th, and Loose Id just sent me a contract for the third, so I’m totally thrilled.   Wahooo!!!

Dark Citadel by Cherise Sinclair (excerpt rated PG-13, book rated hot)

Genre: BDSM Full-figured Heroine    Length: Novel   =======================================================================================================================

– Blurb –

The Shadowlands is once again offering 3 evening classes of BDSM for Beginners.

After Kari breaks up with her date during Beginner’s Night at a private fetish club, she’s given the option to continue with an experienced dominant. Despite her fantasies about BDSM, the inexperienced schoolteacher plans to simply observe. But under the unyielding hands of Master Dan, she not only participates, but gives him everything he asks for. There is nothing she can hide from him. Not her passion…or her love.

Still mourning his wife, Master Dan avoids getting involved with women and he never takes a sub twice. But this modest little beginner is such a sweetie, one night is far from enough.  As he plumbs her responses, taking her ever deeper into the world of BDSM, the gentle submissive begins to show him how barren his life has become.

During their three nights together, Kari will learn to submit…will the Master learn to love?

=============================================================================================

– Excerpt –

Chapter One

The massive stone building loomed over the extensive grounds like a forbidding castle in some gothic novel. Club Shadowlands. Kari Wagner shook her head at the intimidating sight, at the thought of what the evening might hold.

Beginner’s lessons at a private BDSM club. She’d gone insane. Really. Her mind had rotted completely away. Teaching high school, that’s what had caused her lapse in sanity. All those teenagers…

Her date, Brian — or Buck, as he liked to be called — grabbed Kari’s arm and pulled her through the front door. She slipped a little, and his grip hardened. “Damn, you’re slow.”

In the small entry room, a huge security guard stood behind a table, looking so ogre-like he was almost cute. “Good evening, sir. Miss.”

“Good evening.” Kari closed her mouth before she called him Shrek.

He held out his hand. “Papers, please?”

As Buck handed over the doctor’s certificates and money, Kari eased her arm away. She’d been attracted to his authoritative personality — so different from the usual men she dated — but he’d never been rough before. Then again, he didn’t know how to do this domination stuff anymore than she did.

The guard finished looking at the papers and handed them off to another man before saying, “I’ll take your jacket, sir. And miss? Please leave your shoes with me now.”

“My shoes?” After a glance at the guy to see if he was serious — he was – Kari slipped off her orange sneakers.

The guard patiently kept his hand outstretched until she handed over her Tigger-decorated socks also. A little snort of laughter escaped him. “Thank you, miss.”

Buck’s pale brows drew together at the sight of the socks. “What the hell are you wearing?”

Kari glanced down at her ankle-length denim dress. “Sorry. It was parent-teacher day, and my last set of parents arrived a half hour late. I didn’t have time to go home and change.”

“Honestly, Kari, you dress like a five-year-old.” He straightened the lapels of his black suit.

“Well, I used to teach kindergarten after all.” She laughed. “But my high-school students like my clothes too.” Besides, even if she’d had time to change, what would she have worn to a BDSM club? Some weird lacy corset thing? Surely they’d dated long enough for him to know her better than that.

“Well, folks, have a pleasant evening.” Smiling, the guard pointed them toward a door on the right wall.

Wait a minute. Kari frowned at her bare feet then looked at the man. “Excuse me, but why is Buck allowed to keep his shoes on?”

The guard blinked. “Did I make a mistake? Which one of you is the Dom or Domme?”

“I am.” Buck gave her a disgusted look. “Just be quiet, Kari. Don’t talk at all.”

She bit back her first response — and the second — and settled for a nod. Buck might look like Prince Charming — tall, slim, blond — but his manners needed a little work. Still, she should give him a break. If he wasn’t Mr. Perfect Dominating Man, she wasn’t exactly a ten on the Gorgeous Submissive Woman scale, right? In fact, considering her conservative upbringing, this whole evening was probably doomed to failure.

Before they reached the door, Buck yanked her to his side, his fingers digging into her skin. “There will be other Doms here and other beginners. Remember you’re with me. Don’t talk to anyone else. Don’t look at anyone else.”

“Got it. Now let go of me.” With an exasperated sigh, she pried his hand from her arm, then followed him into a large office with lush, dark brown carpeting and creamy white walls. An antique desk and office equipment took up the far side of the room. In the right corner, several big men and two women, all dressed in gold-trimmed leather clothing, eyed her and Buck before returning to quiet conversation.

The center of the room held a sitting area occupied by two men. One was a tall, broad-shouldered man with silvering dark hair wearing European-tailored black slacks and a black silk shirt. His dark gray eyes had focused on her and Buck the minute they walked through the door. Now, he tilted his head toward the couch across from him.

“That’s got to be Master Z,” Buck hissed as they crossed the room. “All this is his. You watch your mouth and don’t speak unless I give you permission.”

She did exactly that, closing her mouth over her impulse to tell him where to go. He meant well, and she wasn’t going to leave before she found out more about this bondage stuff and why it excited her so much.

In black leathers, the other man looked downright dangerous: hard-faced with an equally hard body, open vest stretching over broad shoulders. Black hair slightly curling to the nape of his neck, potent brown eyes, the shadow of a beard along a stern jaw. If Buck was the golden prince, this man was the dark one.

When the men rose, Kari froze, feeling like a mouse confronted by lions. Mouth dry, she managed to move forward and smile.

“Buck,” the gray-eyed one said in a smooth deep voice. “Welcome to the Shadowlands. I am Master Z.” He shook hands with Buck and then Kari. His warm hand engulfed her cold fingers as he studied her for a moment. “Welcome, Kari.”

She opened her mouth, remembered not to speak, and smiled instead.

Master Z nodded to the other man. “This is Master Dan.”

The man nodded, shook hands with Buck, and then took Kari’s hand, his grip much gentler than she’d expected. When she looked up, his dark brown eyes trapped hers. He didn’t leer or do anything other than look at her, yet she felt a flush rise into her face. She pulled her hand back and looked down. She could still feel his penetrating gaze.

“Please be seated,” Master Z said. He waited for everyone to sit, then resumed his seat. He tapped the coffee table where their medical records and questionnaires were spread. “Your papers are in order. You’re both free of any disease.”

He glanced at her and Buck. “The rules of the Shadowlands are simple. Don’t touch anything or anyone that doesn’t belong to you without permission. Do not interfere in someone else’s scene. The equipment is here for your use, and after your introductory class tonight, there are private rooms upstairs, also for your use.” He nodded to the men in the corner. “Dungeon monitors — DMs — supervise activities and are available to answer questions or even to help as needed. Watch for the gold trim or an orange badge.”

His gaze turned to Kari. “Here at the Shadowlands, use the term “Master” for those in authority over you: me, the DMs, and possibly, your Dom. When in doubt, address any Dom as Sir or Ma’am.”

“I understand. Thank you,” she said without thinking and winced at Buck’s glare.

Dan Sawyer half-listened to Master Z while he sized up the two people who would be in his charge. The bland-faced man with pale blond hair and blue eyes. About five-eleven and a lanky one-seventy in a black suit. He had a narrow mouth with more frown lines than laugh lines and checked his date frequently as if afraid she’d disappear.

The woman wasn’t beautiful, but compellingly pretty. Mid-twenties. Wide blue eyes and hair the rich brown color of Guinness. A soft pink mouth bracketed by faint lines, showing she knew how to laugh and did it often. She was little, about five-four, and definitely not slender. Her long dress couldn’t conceal her very lush curves despite being buttoned right up to the top.

Interesting choice of attire for the club. Was she modest? Probably. He studied the way she’d pulled her hair into a tight French braid. Modest and conservative. Huh.

He rubbed his chin and studied her further. Had she wanted to be in a BDSM club, or had her date dragged her? Maybe he had, considering the way she was rubbing her arm.

Shaking his head, Dan leaned back in his chair. Looked like this couple would bear watching.

She’d be a pleasure to watch. To see tremble. To see helpless need in those big eyes. To see…

=======================================================================================================================

DARK CITADEL   Loose Id / April 7, 2009

Buy link: http://www.loose-id.com/prod-Masters_of_the_Shadowlands__Dark_Citadel-923.aspx

www.CheriseSinclair.com
Dominant Males, Sizzling Tales

CLUB SHADOWLANDS Loose Id / Out now

Half-Were House

Earning Her Stripes by Mima:

Word of the Day: Disobedient

Meg’s been thrown out of her home, rejected by her friends and lover, banished by her pride, and thrust into Half-Were House to continue her obedient life. A life that has nothing to do with being a feline shifter and everything to do with fitting in with humans. Tradition demanded she leave and she can’t come back simply because she doesn’t have little kitty claws. Determined not to take things belly up just because that’s the way she likes it in bed, the sweet submissive disobediently returns to The Valley to reclaim her adored teaching position. With the surprising ally of a surprisingly dominant farmer, Meg faces down prejudiced felines who would love nothing more than to turn her into dog food. The pride’s leader lays down the terms for Meg’s safe return, but will she be able to help Ben submit enough for her to stay?

Tail Over Whiskers by Darragha Foster:

Blaze tries to live up to her name after being humiliated, branded and banished by the werecat society for being different. Really different. She can only shift when she comes, and then, only partially-and it doesn’t last. Looking for love in all the wrong places, she ends up inadvertently scent-matched to another half-were shifter. A dog, of all things. Fighting like cats and dogs takes on a whole new meaning for Blaze and Jack as they struggle to accept their spiritual, and physical, bonds. Are they going to set an example for the shifter prides and packs, or will they simply end up chasing each other’s tails?  **Blaze really likes Eggrolls**

Piece of Tail by Celia Kyle:

Gina’s got a problem. Okay, she doesn’t think it’s a problem, but the pride that kicked her to the curb sure does. She feels perfect in every way. Curves in all the right places and an attitude that just won’t quit, she’s got it all. And then some. Now her tail… In her mind, it’s just an added bonus. But in the mind of the prides, her ability to only grow a tail proves that she’s not were enough and too much kitty for humans. Good thing she’s found two men who can’t get enough of each other, her and her tail.

Available NOW at Liquid Silver Books!

Prologue

Tasheka’s Diary Entry, ten years ago

I wanted this job. Just ’cause I didn’t have to fight for it doesn’t mean it’s not worthy. No one else sees it like I do. All the lost souls coming here to this block of brownstones, unwanted, hidden. So I’m here, a lioness with an ever-shifting pride of non-shifting shamed ones. With my grumpy old human Sam, I’m learning them. Give ‘em the sweet and the sour soon fades. I have to remember this, cause the one who came in tonight makes my teeth hurt.

Blaze is a tabby cat. Got pride that won’t quit, and fire and sass, like me when I was young. But she’s got no people and of course, more important, no shift. She’s all full of it, with her mother part of Sekhmet’s court and anger burning the air every time she looks at a man. This one isn’t going to pass from my haven easy or soon. I’m sorry for it, but I’ll help her, as I can.

Tasheka’s Diary Entry, nine years ago

I haven’t laughed this hard since Sam and I last played. She comes in half-dressed, and that half doesn’t last long. That snow leopard tail has a mind of its own, and so does her mouth. Gina is a breath of fresh air, and I just know she’ll help Blaze. Those two together are a recipe for trouble stew, but I’ve got my wooden spoon, and I’ve got a belly full of laughter in the wake of this woman.

We’ll keep her tail hidden, and find her a place, and peace-be-to-kittens, she’ll show Blaze the way.

Tasheka’s Diary Entry, two weeks ago

I’d never have guessed it, but this one is the key. Sure of it now. Meg, with the bloodline of a tigress and the behavior of a doormat, is the one that’s going to knock Blaze and Gina loose from Half-Were House. No matter how I tried and poked and guided, those two just stuck here like burrs with no itch to travel by themselves, like they should, out in the wide world.

But this Meg comes in with a river of hair and pale silence and I’m just thinking, poor chil’, and then I catch a glimpse of her eyes. This one has the fire I saw long ago in Blaze’s eyes. She has the fire Gina rolls in but doesn’t direct. This one has a goal, a life back where they took her from, and she’s going to show them the way.

Yes, I told Sam. Things will be a-changin’.

Available NOW at Liquid Silver Books!

QUEEN’S GAMBIT

By MARIE TREANOR

Available now from Samhain Publishing:

http://www.mybookstoreandmore.com/shop/product.da/queens-gambit

The Grand Master of her body-and her fate.

Ever since a jealous wife cursed her, Christi Blythe has lived seven hundreds years of a half life, trapped by day in the black queen of a chess set. She lives only between the hours of dusk and dawn, waiting for the one true love who is willing to sacrifice a vital game of chess to break the curse.

Now, years after she has given up hope, her remote Highland hotel is hosting a chess match between two high-profile Grand Masters of the game. One of them is the brilliant but erratic Russian, Andrei Zuvarin.

Andrei suspects there is something different about the luscious barmaid and her chess set. One hot night with her-and one shocking dawn-confirms it. But he can’t afford to lose this match. Not even to free her.

He’s got more riding on it than money, more than his heart. His next move could cost a life.

*

“I’m not free,” she said unsteadily, and had the satisfaction of hearing his breath drawn in sharply. As if she could not help it, her head fell back, resting on his chest. Her eyes closed.

“You are married? My God, I never even thought to ask.”

“We know nothing of each other, nothing.”

“I know you,” he insisted, his fingers tightening, gently kneading her shoulders. “I know I want you. I know you want me…”

“I don’t!” she gasped as those fingers moved down, dragging her whole body against him so she could feel his hard erection nudging her back. Then both his hands moved on until they covered her breasts, holding, caressing, his thumbs rhythmically stroking her tight nipples. She knew he was smiling into her hair as he nuzzled her nape.

“No?” he teased, his fingers spreading across her breasts to outline her stiff, hard nipples through the fabric. Then one hand moved lower, fingers splayed, palm gently pushing as it slid down her abdomen, making her gasp and gasp again before it reached between her legs with probing fingers. She moaned with sheer pleasure.

His lips kissed her neck strongly, his tongue, his teeth sending shivers of ecstasy down her spine. Moving down her leg, his right hand caught at the fabric of her dress, drawing it upward with gentle, teasing caresses until his fingers could reach the hot wetness between her thighs.

Now it was he who gasped, and for some reason his reaction gave her the confidence to laugh, a shaky, breathless sound, as she opened her eyes and twisted her head to see into his face. “Shocked?”

And Zuvarin, his breath short and quick, gave one of his swift smiles. “Shocked? Because you don’t wear knickers to clean the bar? Oh, no.” His fingers began to move, butterfly-light, slow, explorative, working toward her clitoris with delicious languor. “Rather-delighted.”

Christi’s head pressed back into his shoulder. She no longer cared that her eyes must be giving away his devastating effect upon her-her whole body betrayed her already. She just wanted to see his heated face clouded with desire for her, and she did. She saw more, too, for his eyes, surely were as vulnerable as hers, revealing not only his own wants, but also his need to please her. She could not hide the intensity of pleasure his fingers induced as they stroked all around the desperately wet petals of her pussy and finally, gently, pressed on her swollen, pulsating clitoris.

Moaning aloud, she reached blindly up with her mouth, finding his and kissing him wildly with all her passion and gratitude for the orgasm that was already rising with earth-shattering depth. When his hand left her pussy, she cried out in distress. He turned her in his arms to deepen the kiss. His hands held her hips so that his could grind into them. It was delicious, exciting, maddening, but it was not nearly enough.

“Now,” she whispered urgently, her hands on his jeans, trembling as they stroked the big, hard bulge at the front and fumbled with his zip. “Now, Andrei…”

Vaguely, she was conscious of his gasps, joyful at his reaction. Then, as her hand closed around his big, thick, rock-hard cock, he groaned, sweeping her up in his arms and off her feet, carrying her swiftly across the room as if she weighed no more than a baby. Her mouth claimed his again. She rejoiced in the feel of his hands holding her bare buttocks.

He set her on the bar, her legs dangling down the front while he stood between them, his crotch pressing into hers while he kissed her with huge, demanding kisses that drove her wild.

Arms around his neck, she wriggled, trying to slither forward to enable his entry. “Now, Andrei,” she gasped again, but inexplicably he held her back. His fingers had found the zip of her dress and let it fall around her shoulders, revealing most of her breasts beneath for him to kiss and caress, his tongue flicking fire across her nipples. Christi thought she would die if he didn’t do it to her, if he did not fuck her now, at once…

She grasped his hair to tell him so, but he eluded her, kneeling on the floor below her to kiss her legs from the ankle up.

“Andrei!” she got out, half-weeping with frustration as well as laughter. “I’m dying!”

But he made no response, for his lips were now on the inside of her thigh, just at the top and moving toward the heated wetness of her crotch and at last she began to suspect what he would do.

“Oh,” she gasped out with wonder. “Oh…!”

STEAMY NIGHTS

By MARIE TREANOR

Available now from Changeling Press:

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1025

Love, lust, and revenge, woven through the twisted chaos of time…

Fighting for her life in Edinburgh’s dark, dangerous streets, Miri stabs the wrong man — and ends up in his arms, sparking a sequence of events that alters history, with catastrophic consequences.

Wrongfully exiled from his own dimension, Caratacus is determined to find a way home. But that’s going to be difficult using only nineteenth century steam technology — even more difficult when distracted by the sort of steam he creates with Miri!

Before he can go home, he has to set things right. That means hunting down a Jack the Ripper copycat, prevent Robert Louis Stevenson from becoming an engineer, and help a brutal, game-playing civilization protect itself from cannibals — all without destroying the intense but fragile love he’s found with Miri.

After that, reversing time should be easy.

*

“You,” he said, but since he paused and bent to adjust something on the engine, it could have meant anything. Impatiently, he snatched off his steamed up spectacles and tossed them on the ground. Miri wanted to pick them up before he stood on them, but her trembling legs wouldn’t move.

He said, “Your admirers have gone, haven’t they?”

She nodded. He tightened something forcefully with the spanner. “Did you show them a good time?”

“They’ve got no money,” she whispered, and wanted to die. To make it worse, he turned his attention from the engine to her. She wondered how much he could see without the glasses.

“Don’t you ever do it just because you want to?”

“Free shots?” she hazarded. Hope began to rise in her. “Sometimes…”

“And how does that work out for you?”

“I… what do you mean?”

He sat back on his heels. “Does it give you pleasure?”

“I don’t… You shouldn’t ask me such things!”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a whore! And you’re not interested in using me!”

“Using you? No, that’s true.”

She turned her head away. As shame doused her excitement, she was conscious of the pulse beating between her legs. It seemed to throb to the rhythm of the pistons beside Caratacus’s head.

He said, “Doesn’t mean I’m not interested in you. I’m just asking if you like sex? Making love?”

Curiosity brought her head back round to look at him. Considering the subject matter, his voice had sounded cool, almost clinical, but his intense green eyes were hot and misted, mesmerizing her. Behind him, she was aware of the pistons plunging rhythmically up and down, almost like the act of love. Sex…

Excitement rose again, higher. She felt daring, wicked, talking to him like this, she wanted to tell him what she did, see his reaction, tell him more…

She gasped, “I like to give men pleasure. Apparently I’m good at it.”

“Oh I’ll bet you are. You could just lie there and be good at it. But I’m interested in your pleasure. What — or who — makes you orgasm?”

She thought her knees would buckle.

“I don’t think I… should I? No one’s complained…”

He shuddered, maybe with laughter, although he didn’t smile. He rose to his feet, reaching up one hand to hold onto the beam above his head.

“I think you should.”

“You’ve no right. You don’t even want me…”

“I want to make you orgasm.”

She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with anyone, with him. She should be dying of shame, and yet if he stopped it now, she’d explode… So she drowned in his hot eyes and whispered, “How would you do that?”

“Oh lots of ways… all the ways I thought of last night while your breast pressed into my naked skin. I think I’d kiss you lots — your mouth is shaped for kissing. I’d catch your little tongue when it sneaks out to wet your warm lips, and I’d lick it and bite it. I’d hold your lovely breasts in my hands and kiss your nipples, caress them until they stood out like organ stops, begging for more.”

Steam had begun to belch harder from the engine. Miri knew how it felt. Her imagination followed every word Caratacus spoke and her whole body was on fire.

“I’d open your legs, bathe my fingers in your wetness. And if you let me, I’d put my cock in you and fuck you until you screamed with joy.”

Miri moaned, pressing the heel of her hand hard against her pubic bone, wishing the thin shabby fabric of her gown wasn’t there. She couldn’t see him now for the steam, so she just closed her eyes and listened to his voice.

She gasped out, “Why didn’t you do these things last night?”

“I had an idea you’d appreciate me more for being allowed a night’s sleep.”

“You could have had me any time…”

“A fuck for fourpence? I don’t have the money, so you have to have the orgasm.”

She snapped her eyes open. “My payment?” Suddenly, she was outraged, as ugly reality swept over the delicious fantasy. Caratacus emerged through the cloud of steam and kept walking.

“No. Mine,” he said and, seizing her damp face between his hands, he covered her mouth with his.

A DROP OF RED, Vampire Babylon, Book Four, by Chris Marie Green

A bloody good time…

Hollywood stuntwoman-turned-vampire hunter Dawn Madison is tired to the bone and beyond. Along with her comrades-in-arms, she managed to wipe out the Los Angeles Vampire Underground. And in doing so, she uncovered not only her own dark family heritage but also a terrible truth about the man she loves. Now all she wants to do is get to the next bloodsucking community, taking care of business with them, too.

Luckily, when it comes to battling the undead, there’s no shortage of Undergrounds.

When a new one is found in England, Dawn and the team are dispatched to carry the fight from the flash of Los Angeles to the seemingly staid and stolid streets of London. Dawn knows by now how deceiving appearances can be-and she is about to find out that it’s not only the beautiful people of Hollywood who are willing to bargain with evil…

(ISBN: 978-0441016815)

Excerpt:                       http://www.vampirebabylon.com/excerpt_ador.html

About Chris Marie Green

A long time ago, in a land far, far away (Milwaukee, WI, St. Luke’s Hospital), Chris Marie Green (also writing as Crystal Green) joined the world. While moving to Southern California, then Kentucky, then back to California and now Nevada, she amused herself by writing poetry and short stories featuring the ultimate Alpha males–Superman and Indiana Jones. Later, after graduating with a B.A. in English from Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo, Chris decided to become a professional writer.

While she pursued this goal, Chris worked as an eighth-grade teacher, but resigned in 2002 to pursue writing full time. She creates urban fantasies for her Vampire Babylon series, action-adventure stories, and romances.  She also loves to read, overanalyze movies, practice yoga , and travel, and details her obsessions on her Web pages, www.crystal-green.com and www.vampirebabylon.com.

About Vampire Babylon

The first book, NIGHT RISING, was released as a trade paperback by Ace in February, 2007, and reissued in mass market format on January 27, 2009. The second trade book, MIDNIGHT REIGN, hit shelves in February, 2008, and will also be reissued in mass market format in July, 2009. The third book that closes out this initial trilogy, BREAK OF DAWN, came out in trade format September, 2008 (mass market reissue date pending).  Ace is reissuing each book in the first trilogy to introduce the second trilogy (books four through six, which will be released in trade format).

The Vampire Babylon series uses trilogy arcs to tell one basic story, much like the way JK Rowling used seven books that didn’t solve every plot thread book-by-book to tell Harry Potter’s story. While each individual novel focuses on a central mystery that’s solved by the end, the three books together build character and mythology arcs/mysteries until everything culminates in the third book. Each trilogy repeats this pattern.

Release dates for the second trilogy, which continues the adventures of Dawn and team, are as follows:

A DROP OF RED, Book Four, March, 2009

THE PATH OF RAZORS, Book Five, August 2009

DEEP IN THE WOODS, Book Six, date pending

Website:                      www.vampirebabylon.com

I’m all teary.

I won a Fantasm Award for Best Vampire Romance Story for A Fling in Vampiropolis.

http://fantasmawards.blogspot.com/

Thank You to everyone that voted. And Thank You and Congrats to the wonderful Stella Price for letting me know.

Selena