If you answered yes to any of the above questions, it's time to take a break and a little virtual trip. I invite you to visit Snow at www.town-of-snow.com.
In my other life as author Barbara Baldwin, Snow began as the setting for a short story I wrote one Christmas which was later incorporated into the book CHRISTMAS QUILT ANTHOLOGY. I revisited Snow for an adult romantic short story,(CHRISTMAS CANDY, an Anthology) and I loved the atmosphere, the characters and the lovely sentiment that existed in the names of the shops and businesses -- like the Snickerdoodle Bakery, Wonderland Bookstore, and Season's Greetings Gift Shop.
It's one of those winter wonderland places you enjoy visiting year after year, and this year several of the shops have opened for business on the internet. I hope you'll visit Snow and explore its history, shops and festivals. One of these days, I'll have the time to write the stories about the characters that live in Snow. For now, they wish you a truly happy holiday season and hope you'll visit often as there's always something happening in town.
For those of you who live in wintery climes, keep your camera handy and an eye on the website because Snow celebrates its name with a Festival every year and this year they're planning a Snow picture contest -- with prizes!!
"Snow -- It's like visiting Christmas all year long."
And, as a preview of coming attractions, take a look at my beautiful cover for "Winning Molly" which will be out at TEB in January. Next month, a contest just for that!
Christmas is right around the corner. Can you smell it in the air yet? *sniff....
I've finally got something to share with you about an up coming release!
It's my first story to be published by Total-e-bound. Actually, it's actually my first story to be published anywhere, lol, so I'm incredibly excited about it.
The Gift is a male/male BDSM novella and it's part of Total-e-bound's Christmas Spirits series. It's due to be released on 8th December, along side A Present Christmas by J.P. Bowie and Tomorrow's Gifts by Lisabet Sarai - both male/male stories, featuring the Spirits of Christmas Present and Future respectively.
Here's the blurb:
If Charles prefers leather to tinsel, that’s okay. Nicky is still sure he can teach his master to love Christmas – with the aid of a perfect gift.
Just because Charles doesn’t see any point in making a fuss about Christmas, that doesn’t mean he can’t tolerate Nicky’s passion for tinsel and holly. He’s never forbidden his pet from enjoying any of his Christmas traditions and he thinks that’s enough.
Nicky has one ambition – to give his master a perfect Christmas. He’s willing to do anything to make that happen – even if it means taking risks and asking his master for special privileges - even if that means inviting a third man into their bed.
The Spirit of Christmas Past isn’t used to visiting Christmases that involve quite so much nudity, passion or kinky sex. Leading a dominant man like Charles through the Christmases isn’t easy – and keeping his eyes off the frequently naked Nicky is impossible. Still, all the spirit can do is enjoy the show – because his job is to bring lovers together and fade away inconspicuously. That’s the plan. However, if someone suddenly wants to thank him, who is he to say no?
And here's an excerpt:
Nicky unrolled a length of bright red ribbon from a cardboard spool and laid it neatly on the floor in front of him.
He placed the others items from his stash next to it. Lube first and then a bright red butt plug - complete with a pattern of little snow flakes and Christmas bells printed over the smooth surface. He tied one end of the ribbon to the flat end of the plug and considered the effect. He formed the end of the ribbon into a bow and nodded his satisfaction to the empty room. It would do nicely.
Nicky deftly coated it with lube and worked the rounded end of the plug inside his hole. It rubbed right against his prostate. Nicky wriggled against the intrusion. The lube was warm from its hiding place so close to the blaze that filled the fireplace all day. If felt amazing inside him.
He wriggled again as he sat back on his heels. The ribbon bow tickled his buttocks. He took a calming breath. A certain amount of frustration was to be expected. Taking up the roll of ribbon he began to wind it around his body.
Up over his shoulder to follow the line of his leather collar, where he attached a little gift tag, then down to crisscross over his chest. The bright red ribbon rested neatly against his pale body, the contrast making his skin look snowy white.
The room progressed from not very warm to bloody freezing as the last of the day’s warmth faded into the old stone building. Nicky shivered.
As he wound the ribbon around and around his body, it became increasingly difficult to hold onto it. With his arms half held down against his body he could barely reach back to swap it from one hand to the other.
His hand slipped, the roll of ribbon sprang out of his grip. Losing its tension, the neat curves of ribbon embracing his body drooped. Nicky sighed and began winding the ribbon back onto the roll, around and around until he was almost back where he started.
He tried again. And again. And again. The roll had a mind of its own. Each time he came close to completing the wrapping, it jumped from his grip.
Nicky bit back a curse. “Knew I should have bought a bloody box...”
He wound the ribbon again and tried for the sixth time to make the pattern he wanted. Around his thigh, in a bow around his now flourishing erection, up and around his body.
Bondage always got him worked up quickly—even self bondage. The ache in his crotch didn’t make it easier to concentrate on what he was doing, or to coordinate his hand movements.
Finally he did it. Finishing the ribbon off with a pretty bow around his wrists and tightening it with his teeth, Nicky smiled his satisfaction. A lock of hair fell down over his eyes. Nicky glared at the blond strands, going cross-eyed in the attempt. He tried to lift his hand to push it back, but couldn’t quite manage it in his ribbon restraints. He sighed and put his hands back on his lap.
As and when his master got up in the morning, he would probably push the lock of hair back out of his way.
A noise in the doorway made him look up.
Charles blinked sleepily at him. It was still completely dark outside, only the lights from the tree broke the gloom. He should be in bed for a few hours yet, but as Nicky watched, the sleepiness faded away from Charles’s eyes to be replaced with amusement and desire.
“I wondered where you’d got to,” Charles observed, walking over to him. He spotted the gift tag.
“For me?” he teased.
As if Nicky would ever offer himself to anyone else that way.
Charles turned the tag over. “To my master, with love, Nicky.” His lips lifted into a smile. He crouched down and stroked Nicky’s cheek with the back of his knuckles. “And do you come with instructions or may I do whatever I want with you?”
“Whatever my master wants,” Nicky whispered.
Oh, and one last thing, before I go...
Like the time I attempted my first homemade tomato sauce. I read the recipe, which called for three cloves of garlic. So, I put in what I thought was three cloves of garlic. During dinner, one of my dear friends began picking through the sauce.
“What’s all this?” she asked, holding up her fork, where a large clove of garlic sat imbedded on the tines of the fork. She stabbed another one and held it up. “And this?”
Her husband and mine sat opposite us, whisking their forks through the sauce.
“What are all these? Garlic cloves?” My friend asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “The recipe called for three cloves of garlic,” I stated proudly, lifting my chin. “How do you like it?”
Her husband pulled out several more cloves from his sauce.
So did my husband.
“Um…” my friend started. “It looks like there’s way more than just three cloves of garlic in this sauce.” She bent and sniffed the sauce atop her pasta. Then she wrinkled her nose as the odor of garlic permeated the air.
I rose from the table. Making my way towards the refrigerator, I pulled out a head of garlic from the vegetable bin. I held it up for her scrutiny. “See? I put in three of these.”
My friend’s eyes widened. Then she burst out laughing. “Oh my God!” She had tears in her eyes as she gave way to fits of uncontrolled giggles. “That’s not a CLOVE of garlic, that’s an entire HEAD!”
I looked down at the odorous bunch of garlic in my hand. Then I started laughing, too.
So did her husband and mine (editor’s note: smart guys…they at least waited until I started laughing).
Eau de garlic is the fragrance we all wore that evening (it’s good we all ate it, otherwise, one of us would have passed out from the stink from all the others).
I’ve come a loooooooooooooong way since that cooking blunder. Amazingly, I’m still friends with everyone who came to dinner that night. Thirty years later, through many trials and tribulations, good times and bad, we get a good laugh from ‘the night of the killer garlic cloves.’
So as I prepare my turkey (yes, I did remember to take out that plastic bag from the inside…I can’t tell you how many times I cooked the bird with THAT still inside!), and as I peel the potatoes and make the stuffing, I wish you all a happy, healthy holiday, filled with lots of good memories. Along with all the food you might prepare, make way for some new memories, too.
Remember to invite someone to the holiday table that might otherwise spend the holiday alone.
If your turkey and fixings don’t come out just right – who cares?
Just enjoy it – and remember my night of the killer garlic cloves.
Up until this year, Thanksgiving was my favorite holiday. So, what changed, you ask.
Someone in our school district had the bright idea of declaring the entire week a holiday instead of just two days. What were they thinking???
I now have three bored children home all day AND I have to clean house in preparation for having friends and family over on Turkey Day. Needless to say, the clean house is simply a dream that ain't gonna come true. Since it's a 'vacation' for the kids, I feel obligated to do things with them. Today we took a trip to the courthouse (I had papers to drop off there) and spent a little time talking to the elderly and garrulous security guard (oh, yeah, he is such a character that I'm sure he'll show up in one of my WIPs).
Tomorrow, we're going to the local cat house. No, get your mind out of the gutter -- not THAT type of cat house! LOL. Our field trip will be to the local Exotic Feline Breeding Compound. The kids will be watching leopards and other exotic big cats playing, eating, and sleeping in the sun. Me...I'll be doing research for the cat shifter story I'm plotting.
Wednesday will find us terrorizing Paint-A-Dream at the mall and on Friday, after the big feast, we'll be heading off to the circus.
Then, when the kids go back to school next week, I'll finally have my "vacation" and can get back to writing more than an hour a day ~
I'm also looking forward to my upcoming release Dec.1:
Victor Morgan, a partner in the law firm Julia works for, is the last complication she needs in her life. He's arrogant, presumptuous, and the most gorgeous man she's ever seen. When he comes to her aid she's surprised, and even more stunned to discover how susceptible she is to his charm.
Struggling to get in the Christmas spirit, Julia is cheered by a secret Santa in her office, and a series of events that show her what the season is truly all about.
See the book trailer for this story here
More information or purchase Dec. 1 here
This story has been extensively re-written, expanded and re-edited for release with Total-E-Bound.
Julia crossed her arms as she rode the elevator to the break room. The thought occurred to her that she’d never asked Victor if he was married. She had to find out, first thing, and hope he told her the truth.
She marched into the crowded room and glanced around. Victor strolled in the other door at the same time, and their eyes met. He looked like an animal that could devour her with no problem, but she had a question before she’d fall into the deep pools of his eyes again.
He gave a small nod towards the hall.
She followed him out, where they were alone. “Are you married?”
“Excuse me?” He feigned a surprised face.
“Don’t toy with me, please. I need to know if you’re married before we leave here. I’ve been burned once before…”
His eyes clouded. “Recently?”
“Was that what—” He pointed up.
She knew he referred to her crying on the roof.
“Sort of. So please tell me, before this goes any further.”
He moved closer to her. “How much further does it have the chance of going?”
Julia frowned, but before she could speak, he went on, “Okay, I’m kidding. No, I am not married. In the context of full disclosure, I was married, but it didn’t work out. We’ve been divorced for two years now.”
Relief washed through her, but she felt the need to cover all bases. “No live-in girlfriend or anything?”
“Ah, you got me, there. There is a woman who lives at my house. Her name is Frances Morgan, though I call her Mom.”
Julia gazed at him, surprised. “You live with your mother?”
“She lives with me. There’s a difference. Subtle, I realise, but it works for us. She’s getting older, and I don’t want her to be alone. And no, she doesn’t clean for me, or do my laundry. I’m a modern man.”
“I’d hope so.” Julia sniffed. “So are we going to stand around here talking all day or go to lunch?”
He placed a hand on her back and led her to the elevator. “We’ve already spent half our time on the grand inquisition. But that’s okay, I understand you had concerns.”
She smiled. His touch heated her, warming her straight through to her spine. “If you want, you could drive through someplace and get burgers.” They stepped into the elevator and rode it down to the parking garage.
“We could.” His hand still on her back, he directed her to a black SUV in his marked parking stall. “But then we’d have too much time to kill. I wouldn’t know how to fill it.”
“Really?” Julia looked up at him, lips pouting, batting her eyelashes. In the last five minutes, her sense of reason had been overtaken by a serious case of lust. She wanted this man, and made sure he knew it.
His eyes blazed with the same lust that coursed through her. Pressing her up against his car, he kissed her firmly. His tongue nudged the seam of her lips, parting them so he could advance.
Julia slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Her sexy dream about him only intensified the feelings running through her. She felt the hard ridge of his erection through his slacks, and pressed into it.
He groaned. “We’re living dangerously, here. The parking lot stays pretty busy during the noon hour. My windows are tinted, but I’d imagine people would notice if my SUV was rocking.”
She pressed herself harder against his cock. “Is it going to be rocking?”
“Oh yeah.” He kissed her again and pulled away.
Copyright (C) 2008 Jamie Hill
I don't have to deal with the problems many working mothers do. Instead, I'm at home raising my children, and I'm thankful I'm able to do this. However, I'm one of those people who do better when they have too much to do. Managing my downtime is a task I struggle with daily.
The television beckons, as do chocolate chip cookies. Sometimes when my son naps, I nap with him when I should be writing. So to make up for my lapses, I stay up way too late writing and am a nightmare the next day. My creativity spent behind exhaustion and bad humor.
Wonder Woman would laugh at my ineptness. She'd play with the kids, fix them nutritious meals, keep a clean house (ha! can't manage that one no matter how hard I try) and write novels upon novels in her spare moments.
I get frustrated because I have so many ideas but so little time in which to pen them. You'd think staying at home would give me the space I need to write, but I can't tune out noise. My kids are still little, and when they don't get the proper attention they can become little monsters. Case in point, they were playing so nicely this morning while my husband was outside working on his boat and I was down here typing. Except ten minutes ago, my 3-yr old walked in apologizing up and down carrying a broken picture frame. His forehead was covered in permanent blue marker, to which the 5-yr old adamantly denied forcing said mark on him. Note the 5-yr old has his own mark of valor/trouble on his head, in red marker.
Staying at home allows me the ability to be closer to my family, but when I had to balance work and family, I got more done on my downtime, knowing I had less of it. Now I have to struggle to not procrastinate, because I very well could do something tomorrow instead of today.
Wonder Woman never had a hair out of place. Right now I could scare small and big children. I need a shower. I need to exercise and lose XX number of pounds. I should be writing today to finish a manuscript before the holidays descend and my mother arrives next month. My mother. That means I'll be cleaning the house like a mad woman for the next two weeks before she arrives, since my husband thinks its his job to undo whatever cleaning I actually do.
Perhaps I'm looking at this all wrong. Maybe I'm actually in my Diana Prince mode right now, worrying about the little things when I should spin around faster than the eye can see and turn into my own Wonder Woman. Time enough talking, now I need doing. Myself, the house, the family, the writing. It can be done. It will be done... just as soon as I grab a cup of coffee.
Ah yes, and now my wonder powers are restored.
Guardian's Redemption, now avail from TEB
Sorry, I just couldn't resist one more list. When you get to the bottom, you'll see why I chose it.
A recent survey of 2,000 people in the United Kingdom showed some surprising results when they were asked to tell what their dream job would be. Here are their Top Ten. I thought many of the choices were surprising, astounding really. What do you think?
Number Ten: Musician
Seems like the dream of 'making it big' that many people had as a teenager, has carried on into their adult life.
Number Nine: Restaurant Owner
I love to eat out whenever I get a chance, but I couldn't imagine the stress and strain of owning and running a restaurant.
Number Eight: Movie Director
This seems like such a strange choice for a dream job. Maybe people felt it was a way to meet famous stars.
Number Seven: Physiotherapist
Okay, this one is downright weird. I can't imagine choosing this as a dream job. Getting to put your hands on people? I just don't know.
Number Six: Police Officer
Gun, uniform, tight breeches, leather perhaps. I know people would choose it for the 'serve and protect' part.
Number Five: Photographer
Another list had Playboy photographer as a top choice. Again, maybe people look at this profession as a way to meet people, famous or otherwise.
Number Four: Paramedic
I can't imagine a more stressful profession. Every call would be an emergency. Definitely not for me, but I'm sure glad they're out there.
Number Three: Landscape Gardener
You have to remember the survey was done in the United Kingdom where almost everyone has some sort of garden.
Number Two: Teacher
I did this for thirty years. I loved working with children, but it's certainly a demanding job. Although I loved teaching, I'm not sure I'd say it was my dream job. P.S. You know that's not a photo of me, don't you?
Number One and the whole reason I posted the list: WRITER
Yes, the number one dream job of the 2,000 people polled was- a writer. Now that I can agree with. Every day when I sit at my computer, I think how lucky I am to be able to spend my days and, sometimes, my nights writing. It most certainly is a Dream Job. (Ignore the picture. That never happens.)
Thanks to The Occupational Adventure for this list.
Tales to seduce and entice...
Check out Indulge Me appearing January 5 in Naughty Nooners, an anthology of male/male stories from Total-e-Bound.
If you’ve been watching True Blood on HBO, then you’ve already seen Ryan Kwanten. He plays Jason Stackhouse, Sookie’s skirt-chasing, dumb yet not completely bad-hearted, ne’er do well brother. It’s been a while since I posted hunk pictures so I thought we were due, lol.
Other than that, the exciting news is that a friend of mine is travelling with my stepdaughter in India now and yesterday they went to see the Taj Mahal. Now THAT is something worth seeing! Maybe someday I’ll get to go see it myself. The only other places I’d like to travel to and see at this point are Thailand and Japan. Maybe some day…
My niece’s first Christmas. She was afraid of the Christmas tree and thought we were all silly for making noises when we opened her gifts for her and sang carols.
The first year my niece understood what Christmas was. The joy on her face as she sung Christmas carols in church in that sweet voice. Then later when she opened gifts and her eyes got so big. She opened everyone gifts having fun ripping the paper.
The fist time in many years my family was all in one state to have thanksgiving together. We laughed, ate and talked. Being together was so special since it had been so long.
The last Christmas I spent with my mom. When we baked, prepared Christmas dinner and opened presents. The joy on her face, her laugh and her striking a posing in her red hat and robe.
All these memories are priceless to me. Each year I build priceless memories that I cannot buy anywhere to me that is the true meaning of the holidays. What are some of your priceless memories?
…increasing the sizzle factor
Chat Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/crenshawcafe
My Blog: http://www.taigecrenshaw.com/blog
Free Reads Site: http://www.satinnotes.com
This month I’m promoting my Christmas Spirits release, Tomorrow’s Gifts. It’s my first full length M/M romance effort, and to be frank, I’m pretty pleased with it.
Michael loves his burly, powerful partner Neil. They’ve been together for three years, and Michael still finds Neil devastatingly sexy, but he’s not completely satisfied. Secretly, he dreams of submission and surrender, but he’s scared to share his fantasies with his lover. Frustrated and confused, he wonders whether he and Neil really belong together.
Then, on Christmas Eve, Michael receives a visit from a sexy Dom, Thorne Wilder, who claims to be his lover from the future. Thorne shows Michael scenes from a wild life of sexual excess that he claims they'll share if he breaks up with Neil.
As Thorne pulls Michael deeper and deeper into the BDSM scene, Michael wonders: should he trust the ghost of Christmas future, or does his true future lie with Neil?
Now of course I think everyone who’s reading this post should buy the book, if you have any leanings toward M/M and/or BDSM romance. I could try and persuade you by telling you how sizzling the sex scenes are, or how turned on you’ll be by the interactions between Michael and Neil. But actually, I’d rather talk about one of the story’s strong themes which, I feel, makes the story moving and true – the importance of being honest and open with your beloved.
Everyone has secret desires and fantasies. Often, we’re embarrassed by them, afraid to expose ourselves to criticism or ridicule, worried that we’ll be labeled as sluts or perverts—even by our significant others. We’re concerned that our partners will think there’s something wrong with them, that for some reason they don’t satisfy us and that this is why we fantasize about threesomes or bondage or gang bangs or water sports. We don’t want to risk hurting our partners’ feelings, or so we tell ourselves. Better to just keep it all inside, nurture our cravings privately and keep the relationship on an even keel.
My personal belief, though, is that this type of decision cuts us off from our lovers. We build our own barriers, hiding our supposedly shameful desires. These barriers can’t help but interfere with communication. We feel self-conscious and guilty—why can’t we just be happy with a hot vanilla relationship? Even when we tell ourselves we’re keeping silent out of love, that silence does violence to intimacy.
Being honest, especially about sexual desires, takes courage. You have to be willing to take the risk. There’s always some possibility that your partner really will be shocked or hurt. A more likely outcome is that he or she will be sympathetic, but perhaps uninterested in participating in your favored kinks. On the other hand, you might just discover your lover has his own complementary fantasies which he has been hiding away, worried about your reactions.
You will never know until you reach out and share your dirty dreams. As Michael, finally, realizes that he has to do with Neil.
Here’s a brief excerpt, just to give you a feeling for the chemistry. The book will be released on December 8th.
“So, Michael. Have you been a good little boy?” Neil loomed over me, one hand against the wall on either side of my head. “Do you deserve the goodies that Santa’s brought for you?” Leaning forward, he trailed a wet tongue up my neck, from my open collar to just below my earlobe. When I squirmed in response, he flattened his pelvis against the lump growing in my jeans and fastened his mouth on mine. The fake beard got in the way. He ripped it off and resumed kissing me, while his hands slipped around me to cup my ass.
I loved the way Neil kissed with his full body, investing his entire being in the process. I snuggled against his red felt jacket, allowing him to take possession of my mouth. His kisses were deep, wet, full of soul. They made me light-headed. They made me hard. I could taste the beer he had drunk at the party and the peppermint candy cane that we’d shared on the way home, but underneath there was the familiar flavour of Neil, my housemate, friend and lover.
I forced my hand between our bodies and fumbled at his zipper. “Oh, are you being a naughty little boy?” he breathed in my ear. “Santa will have to punish you.”
His words thrilled me. Oh, if only he would make good on his threats! I knew from experience that he was only teasing, though. But maybe tonight would be different. With the holiday high, the post-party buzz, maybe tonight he’d give me what I craved.
I wrenched his fly open and wriggled through the opening in his briefs until I had what I wanted—the silky sensation of his cock-skin under my fingers. My own cock throbbed as I stroked him, marvelling at the contrast between the rock-hard flesh underneath and the satin-smooth layer that enclosed it.
I wanted to sink to my knees and suck him, right there in the hallway. I wanted him to fuck my mouth until I gagged then drown me in his cum. Instead, he extricated my hand from his trousers and squeezed it affectionately. “Let’s go to bed, baby. Let’s get naked.”
Now, recently I wrote about another Character who had discovered the beauty of the United Kingdom. Guy is an young American guy who's back packing around Europe. He started out in England and whilst he was visiting Manchester he met Janet. Janet is a business woman, she works hard and her career takes up every waking moment of her life until she bumps into Guy that is. She ends up calling in sick and racing to the train station to accompany Guy on the next leg of his journey. Here's a snippet of what happens between them when they board the train:
She took a shuddering, calming breath as the escalator carried her up into the heat and light of the glass-covered station. She looked up at the large bank of flashing destination boards and found the train bound for
. She looked at her watch and cursed. Only five minutes to go until departure. York
Again, she weaved her way through people, glad that the platform was one of the ones on this side of the footbridge, and once she reached it, she saw him, and suddenly all her bravado left her.
She stopped. He’d not seen her yet. She could turn and get lost in the crowd. No one would ever know how foolish she’d been.
“Janet!” he yelled and waved at her. She smiled, though inside she whimpered and cursed her bad luck.
“Oh, hey, Guy.” She tried for nonchalance but managed only high-pitched nervousness.
“I’m so glad you made it. We’d better board. The train’s due to leave any minute.”
He caught her arm below the elbow and pulled her with him towards the train. She followed meekly, her heart thumping and her conscience screaming at her to run away. His touch overrode everything else. She wanted, no, needed to feel more of it.
The first compartment they walked into was packed so Guy led them on into a second and a third and finally a fourth, which contained one old man in a navy Mac and a young girl concentrating on the homework before her.
Guy stopped beside a set of four chairs and a table and swept his hand to the side, showing her to her seat. He took her suitcase and hauled it effortlessly into the overhead rack. His shirt lifted up high enough to reveal his tanned, hair-smattered stomach. Janet gasped but covered it with a fake cough then set to smoothing down the lines of her skirt.
“So, what changed your mind?” he asked and slipped into the seat beside her, trapping Janet between the window and his lithe body.
“I need an adventure,” she replied. “And you made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“Yeah, I do that.” He laughed, and Janet noted the redness of his cheek as he did. This sign of softness melted her heart.
“Did you enjoy
?” she asked him as she settled into the journey. Manchester
“Sure, it was a cool town, and I met this gorgeous woman, too.”
“Oh yeah,” Janet laughed. “What was she like?”
“Well…” He leaned in close. “Between you and me, she was hot. I totally wanted to fuck her.”
“Oh.” She was flustered by the audacity of the revelation and his mouth so close to her skin. She looked away from him and out the window.
She didn’t have much experience with men, but she was pretty sure that Guy and his direct approach was unusual. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. This was utter madness, yet her heart wasn’t beating faster with fear. It was arousal that it pumped around her body. She could feel it bubbling through her veins or maybe it was just the sunlight through the window warming her skin as the urban streets and buildings began to melt away and craggy hills and green fields dominated the view.
“The view is amazing.” Guy’s voice broke into her thoughts and she looked from the window towards him. He was looking at her, not the view out of the window, and as their gazes met and melded, Janet stopped thinking and just reacted. She pressed her lips to his.
They were hot and hard, but they gave way like soft butter as the pressure from her lips built. His hand cupped her face, gently holding her in place, subtly taking charge. Their lips parted for a moment, and she drew a breath, a moment of panic hitting as her sensible side exerted itself. She had just kissed a stranger and passionately at that. But before she could pull from his touch or further think out things, his lips recaptured hers, and his tongue begged entrance to her mouth.
She surrendered once more, her mind disengaged, her lust aroused. His hand that still warmly cupped her cheek slipped to cup her head and tangle her hair in his fingers. Her hands moving from shocked compliance in her lap to active duty running up and down his chest. She traced his hard contours and openly moaned into his mouth.
Jude Mason and Jamie Hill
Publisher: Total E-Bound
Release date: October 13. 2008
Contents: Paranormal/ Shapeshifter/ Ménage/ MMF
The female's scent is highly arousing, even to a cougar closely mated to his male partner. But Kai is no ordinary cougar. He's a changeling, sometimes a highly sexed human, and sometimes an even friskier cat. He mounts the seductive Sable, unaware of her mission and exactly what he's preparing to lose.
The talisman amulet has kept the cougar clan at peace for generations. When it's stolen Kai and his mate, the handsome Aric, set out on a journey to recover it. Meeting treachery and deception at every turn, the duo are forced to battle not only for the peace of the cougar clans, but for their very survival, and the life of their newfound love, Sable.
Reaching further forward, Kai grasped the thick shaft of his lover’s hard erection. It was long and full and felt as comfortable in his hand as his own cock. How many times had he stroked the turgid staff? Countless encounters spent milking creamy, warm seed from the engorged rod, each time trying to excite and please Aric a little more. Kai drained the heavy balls of their nectar often, occasionally sucking Aric to completion with his mouth, as he knew the man loved.
Usually Aric sucked him, and almost always raised his arse for his plundering, for Kai’s pleasure and his own. It wasn’t by Kai’s instruction, but more a matter of what pleased them both.
Right then, Kai desired to work out his frustration on Aric’s delightful bottom. Kai licked around the area hungrily, wetting it for the ride ahead. He sat back on his heels, stroking his own shaft firmly. A shot of saliva in his palm provided the lubrication, and he drove one finger into Aric’s eager arse. Well versed in their particular form of play, it didn’t take long for Aric’s anal muscles to loosen enough for a second finger to join the first. His groans of approval encouraged Kai to spread his digits wider then thrust them in and out. When he deemed the man ready, he withdrew his hand and slapped him lightly on the arse.
The tip of his engorged cock was already slick with pre-cum. He replaced his fingers with the crown of his cock, nudging into the nicely stretched hole.
Aric groaned, pressing his bum backwards.
“Patience, golden boy.” Kai swatted one arse cheek, continuing to push his cock forward, deeper. “I know, it feels so good. Your body surrounds and holds me like a silken cocoon.”
Another whimpering moan answered him and he revelled in the pleasure he was giving.
Kai chuckled, driving his manhood in to the hilt. His balls slapped flesh and they drew up, tingling. "That’s it. Yes, boy. Good…so very good.” He thrust repeatedly, his pace quickening, pushing in deep then pulling out to the rim. The sensation was exquisite. Kai’s balls churned with imminent climax.
He reached around and grasped Aric’s shaft. It throbbed, the head pulsing and sticky with pre-cum. Matching his thrusting movements with his hand, Kai coaxed Aric to join him in the climb towards nirvana.
His lover cried out a primal yowl and exploded, shooting ribbons of warm cream over Kai’s hand. Again Kai thrust himself in, and again was rewarded with a stream of his lover’s cum spurting in his palm. He milked the last of the nectar from Aric’s dripping cock before releasing it and grabbing his hips. Thrusting with pent up desire, Kai grunted, his own climax erupting. Pulsing heat poured from him into Aric’s tight channel, lubricating his arse further as Kai shuddered and shot the last of his seed.
Spent and sated, Kai pulled his cock from its tight embrace. He dropped face down on the bed, drawing Aric with him, an arm draped over his back.
Aric yawned. “Need to rest before our journey.”
“Rest. Journey.” The words were barely out of his mouth when Kai’s eyes closed. His head swirled with things he needed to do, but just then, he needed to sleep.
*Jude Mason - Come, explore with me…if you dare*
To join my mailing list, email me: jude.mason AT yahoo.ca
*Jamie Hill - Erotic fiction that's "Simply Irresistible"
Visit my website: http://www.jamiehill.biz/
I’ve noticed that people can be a bit sniffy about Romantic books in general and Erotic Romantic books in particular. The press seems to allow male escapism in shape and form of James Bond and the like, but sneer at Women’s fantasies. Is this literary snobbery or is this something deeper at play here.
For the last hundred years women in the West have struggled to throw off their shackle to become not only equal to men in the work place but to stand up and be counted a people in their own right. This struggle is not yet over but in most of the English speaking world women have control over their own lives, as far as it is humanly possible, so why is it when women are accepted in the all careers and levels of society do they still keep having to apologise for reading Erotic fiction?
As one who has lived through the sexual revolution of the sixties and the economic ones of the seventies and eighties and who had a fully rounded career, I would argue that Erotic Romance of the sort TEB brings to millions of women all over the world is the ultimate expression of Women’s lib.
Equality isn’t just about going to university or having the same pay as your male colleagues it about being able to express your sexuality— in all its forms and fantasies –without apology.
We have to stand up and say, ‘yes’, we love to become the heroines in our books and be carried to castles by bare-chested heroes, be make love to all night and in every position know to man.
We should shout, unashamed that, yes, we do want to image being stripped naked, inspected intimately and sold on an auctioneers block to yet another bare-chested hero who’ll take us back to his tent and make to us all night and in every position know to man.
And finally there is nothing wrong with pretending we are blindfolded and tied up only to find that all the feathers and riding crops have been applied by a bare-chested hero who will….well, you know the rest.
As far as I am concerned the ultimate expression of liberation is Erotic Romance where Sisters are Writing it for Themselves!
Apollo flipped on the stereo, music came from the speakers. It was rather aggressive, loud and somehow seemed grand yet sad. “Who is this?”
She laughed, “You’re kidding?”
“Tell me who this is.” Apollo remembered his role. “Um, it’s been a long day, and there must have been something in my drinks last night.”
“You poor baby. Shouldn’t have drank so much.” She took his hand in hers, and her touch felt oddly familiar.
Her hands were soft, feminine. She kept her nails short and unpainted. What a shame. She’d be a lovely woman if she took better care of herself, he noted.
“I like this song.” She started swaying her hips.
Apollo licked his lips. “Want me to turn it up?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I like Pearl Jam, a lot.”
Apollo walked over to the stereo, turning it up.
“Eddy Vedder sure hurt a great deal on this album. I heard his relationship with his father was strained.” Her hair swayed in tune with her hips, loose tendrils broke from her ponytail.
Apollo yearned to move those strands of hair behind her ear and kiss her the way he almost had Mona last night. “Vedder, yeah. This is a great album. I was just kidding about not remembering.” He gave a weak smile. He did sort of like the Pearl Jam album. It wasn’t his famed lyre or classic Greek lute music. In fact, it had a more manly sound. He wasn’t sure if it was him or James Helios who enjoyed the music.
Tanya looked at her watch. “I guess it’s about time I get out of your hair. You probably need to finish recovering from your hangover so you can play tonight with the band.”
“No, stay.” He started for her but stopped himself. This hangover was really cramping his style!
He nodded, looking her body up and down. “Yes. Very.” He swore he saw her smile, but it quickly faded.
The song changed, the guitar sound became muted and cheap sounding until the bass and drums kicked in. The melody was slow, the singer’s voice sad.
Tanya took a seat on the faded black leather couch and patted a space beside her. “Come sit next to me. Let’s talk.” She seemed shy.
Apollo nodded. What was wrong with him that he couldn’t take what he wanted? He caught a glimpse of Tanya mouthing lyrics along with the song and decided her mouth was beautiful, more beautiful than the painted faces in his temple.
He should kiss her.
Apollo sat down beside her and threw his arm over the back of the couch. He may not be a Greek god in this time period, but he was still a man who knew how to get what he wanted.
Tanya shifted in her seat.
“You should let your hair down.” His voice sounded gruff, almost commanding.
“Oh?” She turned to look at him.
He caught a glimpse of sadness in her pretty emerald green eyes. Leaning forward, he smelled her scent, pearl and vanilla. Thank the gods, he still had some acute senses even in his state being of hung over. “You are quite pretty.”
She blushed, heat creeping visibly up her cheeks again. “You really think so?”
“I do indeed. And I know a thing or two about women.” He gave her a cocky grin and put one hand on her thigh, feeling the denim beneath his hand. It felt odd, softer than his but still rough and protective. He’d have to remember to ask Mona more about clothing later.
She crossed her legs but left his hand where it was.
He felt her tremble beneath him. That was not the expected response. “Why so shy, Tanya?”
“You haven’t noticed?” She leaned back from him. “You’ve really never noticed?”
He shook his head.
“I’m not good with people or expressing myself.”
“Just act natural. I’m really good at that when I’m not hung over.”
She laughed. “You’re a natural charmer, James.”
There was that problem again. He wasn’t James, damn it! “Sort of. I had help of a father who knew his way around women.”
Her eyes widened. “So that’s why your parents divorced?”
He didn’t have a damn clue about James, but the question made him think back on his own parents. Hera killed his mother Semele as Zeus idly stood by. Apollo thought about the fact that women had also literally thrown themselves at Zeus, and Hera only reacted by killing or cursing them. Or cursing him so that women who came to him eventually went mad with ecstasy. Not that such a thing could happen here since he was no longer a god, or so he guessed.
“Did I ask a bad question?” She put her hand on his shoulder.
“Mother was killed.” He looked directly at her. “I never speak of it.”
“I’m sorry.” She looked away.
Apollo took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. His eyes reflected in hers.
Terror crossed her eyes for just a moment before their lips met.
She was soft beneath his mouth, pliant. Her eyes closed, and a hand wrapped around the back of his neck. Her fingers tangled up in his loose curls and pulled him to her.
Tanya pulled back from the kiss.
The emptiness he felt from their parting was not something he would stand for. Leaning in again, inhaling her vanilla scent before kissing her, he pressed his lips against hers. His hand wrapped around her tiny waist and pulled her body to his, crushing her breasts against his chest. His body grew hard, and his cock throbbed in his jeans.
Tanya sucked in a breath, opened her mouth and let his tongue slide between her lips. Arching against him, she moaned. Malleable against him, she let him explore.
Her mouth felt like soft velvet, hot and molten as her tongue slid over his. He knew he had her then. His hand crept up her thigh, squeezing lightly.
She squirmed and giggled into the kiss.
Her lips were warm against his, wet. Her tongue darted out over his bottom lip, and her eyes opened just a little, then closed.
Apollo leaned in again and kissed her, this time pressing his mouth softly against hers and wrapping his hand around the back of her head. Her silky strands tangled around his fingers.
She shivered beneath him.
Apollo shifted his weight and changed positions so as to face her with his body.
She pulled back and looked at him.
She appeared to enjoy their kiss, but the moment she caught him studying her, her expression changed and she narrowed her eyes as though all signs of lust were imagined.
He stroked her hand with his fingers. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” She sucked in a breath and put her hand to her chest. Pulling out of his arms, she looked down at her feet.
“Try to hide your emotions from the world.”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I never thought about it. I never thought I was important enough for people to notice.”
“Well when you’re with me, stop it.” His head felt better and raising his voice to a stern pitch didn’t hurt him the way it had moments ago. Of course, blood was flowing through his body much faster now, though it centred within his throbbing cock.
“I don’t know how else to behave.” She seemed to shrink back into the couch.
“You should learn quickly that to disappoint me would…” He stopped himself. Catching a glimpse of himself in her eyes again, he realised he must sound like a pompous asshole. Women in this time didn’t respond the way they did in Ancient Greece. Plus, he wasn’t Apollo, he was James Helios. Bass player and tortured soul.
Seemed he and James had a lot in common.
“You should behave how you feel, Tanya. You should let the world see your pretty smile.”
She smiled, tilted her head and shrugged her shoulders.
He was sure she’d blush again, and it’d only endear her more to him. Damn it!
What the hell had the Fates let him get into now? The stirrings of lust he was familiar with, but the other emotion swimming around his chest and stomach made him uneasy. Even if he were to remain in this time period, he was a Greek god! Gods never fell in love with mortals.