A Visit With Sunny Alexander: The Girls

1. How did you get started writing?

I come from a family of storytellers and it was an every day occurrence to hear stories about how my family came to America from Russia. Stories were embellished and evolved into great adventures and lessons about overcoming adversity.

 As a young child, I entertained my younger brother and cousins with stories about fairies and a magical land that was filled with lemonade rivers and gumdrop trees. Later on, I turned to writing stories about the dreams and longings of an adolescent. There was a long period of time when I set aside my writing and focused on raising my children, returning to school and becoming a practicing psychotherapist.

I began to write again during a particularly difficult time in my life. My relationship of sixteen years had a sad ending and I began to write as a means of working through my grief and pain. I had many sleepless nights and it was during one of these nights that the concept for Flowers from Iraq was born. I spent two years writing the book and learning the craft. That personal loss was a difficult time in my life, but it took me on a new path and I rediscovered my passion for writing.  

2. Tell us about your book, The Girls. Open the book to any page and fill us in on what is happening.

The Girls opens in 2020, when President Julia Moorhead has signed the Freedom to Marry Act into law. The Girls have gathered at the home of Emily Elizabeth Scott—the protagonist—and are fixated on the TV as they watch riots breaking out on the streets. The Girls, now in their seventies and early eighties, decide to help the people understand and embrace equality by revealing their lives and loves.

In the book, we meet seven incredible women who lived during a time when women were yearning for equality and stepping out of the closet could be a dangerous action. Each narrative becomes intertwined to become one story...the story of The Girls.

  This particular part of the book is about the early life of one of the Girls, Iris Fields. It is how her life begins, but not how it ends.

****

Slatterville, CA

Slatterville, California, is located one hundred miles north of Sacramento and twenty miles east of Route 99. Once a flourishing copper and iron mining town, the population dwindled as the mines closed one by one.

There were no railroad tracks that went directly to Slatterville, but if there were, Iris would have been born on the wrong side. That she was born in the charity ward of Saint Francis Hospital, and then sent home with her sixteen-year-old mother to an ancient aluminum trailer set up on blocks, was proof enough of her troubled beginnings.

In 1940, the usual hospital stay for new mothers and infants was seven to ten days, and for the next eighteen years, it would prove to be the best nine days in Iris Fields’s life. At twenty-two inches and barely six pounds, Iris was longer and thinner than most baby girls. The hospital sisters tried to get Eugenia Fields to nurse Iris, but she steadfastly refused. “It’ll ruin my figure. Take her away.”

The Children’s Relief Society provided Eugenia with formula and the hospital sisters of St. Francis Hospital prayed every day that Iris Fields would survive her first year.

∞

Eugenia told Iris that she took after her father, name unknown, who played on the varsity basketball team. A complexion that was darker than most of the kids in town, towering over the girls and boys in grade school, and wearing dresses that were too baggy for her sticklike body. All these things made Iris an easy target for bullying.

Every day after school, Iris ran home, her long legs churning as she tried to escape the boys chasing her. Breathing hard, she prayed that the DO NOT DISTURB sign was not hanging on the trailer door. If the sign was off, it meant she could seek refuge inside, and maybe there would be something to eat to fill the emptiness in her stomach, and in her heart. She could see the trailer from a distance, and by its telltale rocking motion knew the sign was on the door.

Thankfully, the boys had given up the chase. She waited on the hot steps, gasping for air, and then, as her breathing slowed, rested her head in her hands, hoping the door would open soon and Mr. Slattery would leave. She could tell when that was about to happen, because the rocking of the trailer slowed and then stopped.

Mr. Slattery, descendant of the founders of Slatterville and owner of most of the town’s property, stood on the top step, patted Iris on the head, put a dollar bill in her hand, and thanked her for being such a good girl.

Her mother waved goodbye, oblivious to her ten-year-old daughter, covered in dirt and with scraped knees and elbows.

After Mr. Slattery drove away, Iris whispered, “Momma, I got beat up again.” Iris looked at her mother, her eyes dripping tears as she wiped her nose on the sleeve of her dress.

“Look at you, Iris. How you ever goin’ to get a boyfriend?” said Eugenia Fields as she tightened the tie on her chiffon print robe—a Christmas gift from Mr. Slattery—and went back into the trailer.

Mr. Newly from across the dirt road sat in his web lawn chair. He held his cigarette in one hand and motioned to Iris with the other. Mr. Newly was an unkempt-looking man in his late fifties or so, who wore a ribbed, sweat-stained sleeveless undershirt and had a tattoo of a ship’s anchor on his right arm. Mr. Newly had retired from the Navy and spent his days “taking it easy,” which meant that he saw everything that went on in the Bit of Heaven Trailer Park. Iris scuttled across the dirt road that separated her from Mr. Newly.

“Iris, who’s beating you up?” Mr. Newly said, taking a long drag on his non-filtered cigarette and exhaling luxuriously. With his ruddy face and short, wiry black hair that formed a widow’s peak, he looked to Iris like a friendly devil, wreathed in the smoke of fire and brimstone. Iris liked him and counted him as a friend.

She looked down at a dirt patch and kicked up the dust with the toe of her sneakers. “Tommy…Tommy Connors beats me up.”

“That red-headed kid with all the freckles?”

Iris kept her head down, continuing to kick the ground and watched the dust swirl around and land on her once-upon-a-time white sneakers. “Yeah,” she muttered.

“Is he the head jerk?”

Iris nodded.

“That kid’s a cream puff. All bluff. You have to take him down. The kids still might not like you or play with you, but they won’t beat you up.”

Mr. Newly drew deeply on the stump of the cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth and blew smoke rings into the air. “Have a plan and hit ’em with surprise. Here’s what you do.”

∞

The next morning Iris walked to school with her two schoolbooks balanced on her hip and her lunch bag held tightly in her other hand. She thought about how hungry she was, and if she weren’t so scared of being waylaid by bullies, would have eaten her lunch on the way to school. She hoped there was more than a bread and butter sandwich in the paper sack that felt so light she feared it might be empty.

Iris shuffled along on her usual route to school, the neighborhood gradually changing from run-down trailer parks to houses ordered out of the Sears catalog and assembled from kits that contained almost everything needed to build a multi-story suburban palace or a quaint bungalow—precut lumber, drywall, asphalt shingles—on scattered vacant lots.

The closer Iris got to school, the more nervous she became. Sweat began to form under her armpits, even though the temperature hadn’t quite reached seventy degrees. The landscape changed as she got closer to town and school. Neighborhood produce stands, Jim’s Meat Market, and clothing stores dotted the street, but none could compete with Mr. Slattery’s General Store. Then there was Mr. Slattery’s Legal Offices and Slattery Town’s Civic Center, an ancient brick building that held the sheriff’s and mayor’s offices with Mr. Slattery’s name permanently etched on the glass door.

Tommy Connors and his friends caught up with Iris a few blocks from school and began their daily ritual of taunting rhymes.

Iris’s Momma, naked as a whore,

Swingin’ on the outhouse door

While Mr. Slattery’s yellin’, “More, More, More!”

They roared with laughter and punched each other’s arms.

Iris, Iris, skinny as can be. Like a monkey hanging from a tree.

Iris, Iris, who your daddy be? We don’t know and neither does she!

Guffaws rang throughout the morning air.

As they drew closer to school the crowd of kids began to thicken and the taunting spread like a wildfire on a dry summer day. Iris stopped dead in her tracks and turned around to face Tommy Connors.

“Tommy Connors, I challenge you.”

Tommy laughed. “You what? You challenge me?”

“That’s right, you and me right here, right now.”

That’s what Mr. Newly told her to say, but Iris felt a sudden and overwhelming urge to pee.

Tommy Connors paled. Challenged by a girl, a stupid trailer-trash girl. The kids surrounded Tommy and Iris, now chanting for blood.

Mr. Newly’s words echoed inside her brain: “Surprise, Iris, that’s what it’s all about.”

She did exactly what Mr. Newly had told her to do. With a shrill yelp, she suddenly leaped up, using the element of surprise to knock Tommy flat on his back. While Tommy was caught off balance, she reached between his legs, grabbed, and squeezed as hard as she could.

Tommy screamed from the pain and the shame. Whipped by a girl, a trailer-trash girl, who didn’t follow the rules of fair fighting. The kids broke the circle and scattered, leaving an opening for Tommy Connors to run home, crying for his momma.

Not one to pass up a meal, Iris picked up Tommy’s sack lunch, felt the weight of it, and knew she would not be hungry today.

That was the last time anyone teased or tried to beat up Iris Fields. Mr. Newly was right, though. It didn’t mean that anyone would want to be her friend, and nobody did.

****

3. What is your favorite type of character to write about?

I am a bit of a philosopher and I see that I have developed a character with a philosophic bent in Flowers from Iraq and The Girls. I’ve never really thought, before, about how that shows through in my writing, so your question has really stimulated my thinking.

4. Do you like erotica or general fiction better?

I have read and enjoyed both genres. I do prefer a novel with a deep storyline. For me, it is about the story more than whether it is erotica or general fiction.

5. What are some of your hobbies when you are not writing?

I enjoy gardening and puttering around the house. I spend a lot of time reading, everything.

I love the beach and my favorite kite hangs on my office wall. There is something about the sea that is soothing and restoring.

6. Plotter or panster?

Panster...I have tried to outline, but it doesn’t work for me.  I am never sure where the story will take me and that is because the characters lead the way. This is how it works: I talked about Iris earlier in this interview, so I will continue with how Iris came to life.

I take long walks every day, and it is during these times that characters will begin to come to life. One day, a name popped up. Iris. That was it. I then began to see a hazy outline of the trailer park where Iris lived. Then the details began to fill in and I began to write the scene.

7. What advice would you give for anyone just starting out as a writer?

Writing is no different from any other craft. It takes a lot of work and tenacity. Just keep the faith: you can and will improve over-time. Join a writer’s group; get people to read your work and ask them to be honest in their feedback.

Don’t rush to publish. Remember, your book represents you as an author.

Top advice: don’t give up. We are in a new world of publishing options. I chose to self-publish and created my own publishing company, The Storyteller and the Healer. If you are self-publishing don’t skimp on the nuts and bolts of editing, formatting and cover. Too expensive? Look around. There are good editors out there that work for a reasonable fee. I gave up Starbucks...discovered my coffee wasn’t all that bad and found I saved enough to hire an editor.

8. What is one thing you want people to get from your books?

I want to develop characters that are real and that the reader can identify with. I want my books to show that even though life is, at times, difficult and painful, there is always hope.  And I do believe in a happy ending.

9. Sushi or cheeseburgers?

Veggie sushi and veggie burgers. No, I am not a vegetarian, but I gave up beef years ago. And raw fish...nope...I eat some chicken and salmon, but more as a condiment than as a large part of my meal.

10. Favorite ice cream flavor?

Ben and Jerry's Coffee Heath Bar Crunch. Their coffee ice cream is mixed in with chopped Heath Bar toffee. Yummy!

11. What is next on your writer horizon?

I am currently writing the sequel to Flowers from Iraq: God Laughs.

I have two more books that I am thinking about.

One is a children’s book about a little girl who thinks of herself as a prince(ss) and is struggling with gender identity.

The second is a novel that takes place in the post-holocaust era. This will be about a group of survivors who hide their experience from their families and the world. I want to show how denial impacts their lives and the lives of others.

 Biography and Links

Sunny Alexander writes character-driven novels that focus on social issues pertinent to the LGBT community—and to those who support them. Her background as a psychotherapist allows her to weave stories around the full range of the human experience: from adversity to humor to a final resolution.

Her debut novel, Flowers from Iraq: The Storyteller and The Healer follows Kathleen Moore, a closeted Army physician who is injured while serving in Iraq. Faced with a life altering wound and suffering from PTSD, she is forced to confront her past and come to terms with her sexuality.

Flowers from Iraq was on Amazon’s Best Seller Lesbian Fiction list for twenty-six consecutive weeks.

The Girls, released in May 2013, follows a group of gay women from the 1970s to 2020, a hypothetical future when the United States Senate passes the Freedom to Marry Act.

Sunny Alexander holds a Ph.D. in psychoanalysis and has been a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist for more than 25 years. She lives in Southern California where she maintains a private practice, enjoys her family and spends time at the beach flying kites.

Alexander is currently writing the sequel to Flowers from Iraq—God Laughs: The Storyteller and The Healer.

Learn more about Sunny Alexander through the following links:

Facebook Author’s Page: https://www.facebook.com/sunnyalexanderauthor

Twitter: http://twitter.com/1sunnywriter

Linkedin: http://www.linkedin.com/pub/sunny-alexander-m-a-ph-d/63/162/169/

 Thank you Sunny for joining me on the blog today! Stay tuned for an upcoming review of The Girls!

A Spicy Visit With Lily Harlem

Thanks so much for inviting me over to your lovely blog today, Erzabet, it’s great to be here. You kindly sent me a grilling so here goes with the answers J….

1. How did you start writing erotica? I moved from London to the countryside 6 years ago. This meant leaving my job as a nurse and while I was looking for something else I found myself stumbling onto a creative writing course in the local village hall. I went along to make friends more than anything but before I knew it I was hooked on writing. I was definitely the teacher’s pet and the class swot. I soon gave up trying to find a nursing job (of which were in short supply in rural Wales) and Mr Harlem was willing to support me while I got my writing off the ground. The decision to write erotic romance came when with the first piece of sexy fiction I ever tried my hand at I won first place in a competition. Madam President will always be a very dear story to me for that reason and you can read it for free on my website.

2. What is your spiciest scene ever? I co-author with Natalie Dae, who is by the way, just completely awesome, and I’ve learned lots from her. When we write together I think we both feel able to push boundaries, we’re kind of like a safety net for our imaginations. We’ve flirted with taboo subjects, in That Filthy Book we have a rape fantasy played out, and in our new, soon to be released trilogy Sexy as Hell we have certainly gone for some dark material. Anything for Him published by HarperCollins is very gritty, it’s not romantic, it’s about obsession and using sex not just for pleasure but also to get what you want. 

Woo hoo! Put me on the review list for those! Naughtier the better!

3. What are some of your hobbies when you are not chained to the computer? I have dogs, all rescued, and I love to walk on the beach with them. I go for miles most days as it helps stave off writer’s bum!

I knew we had something in common! (Besides a love for all things smutty!) I have rescue dogs as well. They pretty much take over my life.

4. Open your book and tell us what is happening. The book I’m writing now? Okay, the hero and heroine are just getting off a gondola and entering a masked BDSM ball in Venice! Great scene, can’t wait to get to the good bits!

5. Tell us about your Naughty Nurse story. (Make it good. I just

poured myself a new glass of ice water.) *cheeky grin* I LOVE my naughty nurse Sharon and her patients and of course the doctors and the mortuary security guard she does it with on the autopsy table, hee, hee. They are all great fun and I would be lying if I didn’t admit that some of them are drawn from real characters from my nursing days. This was such a good book to write, like taking a trip down memory lane at times. I’m completely thrilled that I’ve had reviews from nurses saying how authentic Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse feels, that was something I was striving for.

*fans face* My, my. I have to read this one right now!

6. What are your favorite types of characters to write about? Flawed characters. I’m not into perfect heroes and heroines. I like them to have something to overcome, be it a past, a trauma, an obsession. My latest novel Breathe You In is about a girl recovering from the death of her husband and a guy recovering from a serious heart condition. It’s got a great twist that allowed me lots of real high-octane emotional stuff because he just happens to have her husband’s transplanted heart. Breathe You In is a story of love and hope and finding passion and a future after life has thrown you a curve ball. It’s not a mega-kinky book but it is very sexy and Ruben just melted my heart as I wrote his story. Having a hero who has a little vulnerability about him is incredibly sexy and it makes the bedroom scenes all the more poignant, especially when lust takes over and things get hot and frantic.

7. If you had three things on your writing desk at any given moment

what are they? In the winter – a candle (cinnamon), a pot of tea and a pack of tissues. In the summer – (I like to write outside weather permitting) a vase of flowers, a glass of lemonade and a candle (citronella to keep away the bugs, I hat bugs!)

8. Beverage of choice while writing? Tea, tea and more tea. I’m not a coffee drinker, it makes my heart go funny. I do like my wine but if I write after wine I tend to think it’s the most brilliant literature I’ve ever produced but the next day, without fail, I have to hit delete!

9. What book are you reading now? A Jack Reacher Novel. Love him!

10. What projects are you working on? Oh, now that is a question that makes my head spin. Okay, I’m just coming to the end of the Sexy as Hell trilogy with Natalie Dae, that’s the masked ball scene in Venice. I’ve also just contracted Grand Slam another co-author with Lucy Felthouse to Ellora’s Cave and we’re playing with a sequel. I have edits on my 5^th HOT ICE novel High-Sticked that I really should be getting on with as that will be hitting Ellora’s Cave very soon, and I also have a rumbling plot idea for a follow on story for The Glass Knot which is a book I self-published last year and has had such a positive response from readers that I just can’t stop thinking about The Silk Tie and how that would work out – see, my head is spinning, there just aren’t enough hours in the day, not if I want to have any kind of real life outside of my imagination. LOL. But I’m not complaining, it’s just how I like it, busy, busy, busy!

Thank you so much for inviting me over, it’s been fun. I’ve added a little information on Breathe You In, I hope you’ll check it out…

Lily x

Blurb for Breathe You In

Soul-aching desire was just the beginning!

If the road to Heaven starts in Hell then I was ready to start climbing my way out and Ruben Strong was the man to accompany me. With his devastating good looks, seductively sexy charm and lust for adrenaline he was sure to make it a sensual and erotic experience as well as one to re-awake the passionate, throw-caution-to-the-wind woman I’d once been.

I’d given Ruben something, though, without him realizing, and that gift had come from the man I’d loved before. But I couldn’t tell Ruben. I had to keep that a tight secret even as our naked bodies wound together, sought out pleasure and hit the dizzy heights of ecstasy as one. Because Ruben had my husband’s heart, literally, and that heart was still in love with me, so it seemed, and now I was in love with Ruben.

Emotions tangled with bliss, and fears were locked away as I surrendered to the touch of Ruben’s hands, the taste of his skin and the sounds of his pleasure. I couldn’t deny that Ruben had brought me back to life the same way I had him and there was no way I was giving up that feeling, not for anyone.

Excerpt from Breathe You In

“Oh my goodness, I swear that one is a Marshmallow Man.” I pointed out of the window and laughed. I’d never seen anything like it.

“Where?” Ruben looked, saw the hot-air balloon I was flapping my hand at and chuckled. “It looks like the one from Ghostbusters.”

The sky from Ruben’s flat—he had an amazing view of the park, which meant the festival too—was a multicolored sea of inflated hot-air balloons. But few were traditional shapes, the majority were novelty, and I marveled at how some could fly they were so big.

“This is crazy.” I sat back on his sofa that we’d spun to face the window. It was like having our own private box. Down below people milled about; kids eating candyfloss, toddlers in buggies pointing excitedly, couples strolling hand in hand. A carousel and a Big Wheel had been set up. Music and laughter and the whoosh of flames lifting the balloons from the ground breezed through the open window.

“More wine?” Ruben asked.

“No, I’m fine.” I set my glass on the table.

We’d enjoyed our own indoor picnic. Not because Ruben wasn’t well or that we didn’t fancy mooching around the festival, but because we could enjoy it from the comfort of his home and that was a unique experience.

“Last year they had a McLaren balloon, shaped like a Formula One car. It was huge, probably the biggest, and I think it went the fastest too.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

He reached for my hand, kissed my knuckles. “I would have organized for us to go up in one if you’d wanted to.”

“No, I don’t think I could cope with that. I like my feet firmly on the floor.”

“Of course.” He put his arm around me.

I snuggled in close, loving his body against mine. He’d only spent forty-eight hours in hospital, and then was back at work the next week. His strength had returned quickly, and we’d been spending as much time as possible together. Enjoying our new romance and the closeness that went with it. We’d both had enough of battling on alone.

“Next weekend,” I said, tracing my finger over his belly, rucking his t-shirt as I went. “My friend Felicity is getting married.”

“The girl whose hen night you went to?”

“Yes, that’s right. Well, I told her about you and…” I paused. “I don’t know if you’re up for it, but she wants you to come to the wedding. With me, as my guest.”

“And that makes you nervous.”

I looked up at him, stilled my finger. “A little.”

“Because they’ve only ever seen you with Matt?”

How did he just get that? I didn’t know, but I was grateful that he did and I didn’t need to spell it out for him. “Yes.”

“Well, you could always make up some excuse for me, say I’m off bungee jumping that weekend or something.”

“No, I want you there. I don’t want to spend the weekend without you, and besides, Matt’s gone, it’s us now, Katie and Ruben.”

“Yes.” He stroked my cheek. “It’s us now.”

“I want everyone to know it.”

“Me too.” He smiled.

“So you’ll come?”

“Absolutely. And I’ll be on my best behavior.”

I rolled my eyes. “Right, because the girls are always so well behaved.”

“What I mean is, I won’t do any of this.”

Suddenly I was on my back and he was over me. I giggled and wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his thighs. “I should think not, Mr. Strong, and certainly not in church.”

“Mmm, but maybe later, at the reception.” He pressed a kiss to my lips. He tasted of wine and the salty crisps we’d been eating. “In our hotel room, maybe then I’ll have my wicked way with you and do all the things I’ve been dreaming of doing.”

“I’ve unleashed a monster,” I said with a smile and then groaned when the hardness of his cock, through our jeans, pressed against my mound.

“You really want to see my monster?”

“I think I’d better. See if it can ever be tamed.”

He kissed me again, slanting his head and probing deep. He swept his hand up the inside of my t-shirt, squeezed my breast and then tweaked my nipple through my thin bra.

I became lost in him. Every sense was focused on Ruben; a hungry need settled between my legs.

“I want you now,” he whispered hotly. “Here.”

We’d made love several times since he’d left hospital, but in bed, at mine, quiet, slow, intense, the same as the first time. I wasn’t complaining, it was wonderful, but this was new, this was middle-of-the-day sex, and damn, I wanted some.

“Yes,” I said, “fuck me.”

He raised his head, stared down at me. A devilish smile curled his lips. “Say that again.”

“What?” I pushed his flopping hair back from his forehead.

“What you just asked me to do.”

Ah, he liked dirty talk. I could do that. “Fuck me, Ruben, fuck me now, make me come, make me scream your name.”

“Oh, Jesus.” His mouth went slack. “Get naked.” He reached for his top, yanked it off, his face now a picture of urgency.

I did the same with my t-shirt, wriggling on the sofa and then tossing the material aside.

He dipped his head to my chest, tugging at my bra.

“Oi! Get a room!” shouted a deep, bellowing but distanced voice through the window.

We both froze.

“Shit,” Ruben said, screening my body with his. “What the…?”

I looked outside. Not thirty feet from the flat was a huge basket with two men in it. A massive flame burned bright behind them, sending an orange glow over their bodies. They wore flat caps but didn’t look particularly old—one had a black moustache, the other was holding a rope.

“I have got a bloody room,” Ruben shouted. “Bugger off!”

The men laughed, the flame burned brighter, and they started to lift upward.

“Have fun,” the one with the moustache called with a wave.

“We will,” I shouted, managing to wave back as they went from view.

Ruben looked down at me. “I’m really sorry about that, I had no idea they’d come so close.”

I swatted his shoulder and grinned. “It was funny, they couldn’t believe their eyes. They thought they were going to see some action.”

“Pervs.” Ruben grinned. “Now, where were we?”

“You were just about to fuck me.”

“Damn, you have such a filthy mouth.”

“And don’t you know it.”

“Not as much as I’d like to.” He unclipped my bra, sat up and squeezed my breasts together, his thumbs toying with my nipples.

I arched into him, adoring the sensation of him touching me and gazing so adoringly at me. “So how about I tell you to get your cock out,” I said, reaching for his waistband. “Get it out and show me what you can do with it.”

“So sweet yet so dirty.” He grinned. “But hang on.” He stood, went to the window and drew the curtains. “Just in case we have any more voyeurs. I don’t want them seeing what I’m about to do with my cock.”

“I like the sound of that.” I licked my lips.

“Do you now?”

He looked tall and hot standing over me and slowly undoing the buttons on his jeans. Long arms and legs, strong fingers, the perfect spread of body hair and an air of absolute determination about him.

“You’d best take your trousers off, or they might get ripped,” he said, nodding at my jeans.

“Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.”

He rolled his eyes, groaned. “Now you’re just messing with my head, woman.”

I giggled, sat and shoved off my jeans. “I can mess with any bit of you that needs dirtying up.”

“Will this do for starters?” He fisted his cock, moved toward me and slotted one hand in my hair.

Sat on the sofa, I was the perfect height to take him into my mouth.

“As long as I still get the main course,” I said.

“You can count on that.”

I eyed the slit at the end of his dick—dark and deep. My mouth watered for the flavor of him. He held me tight, and I opened up to take what he offered.

“Ah, yeah, that’s so hot to watch.” He groaned as he sank in.

My heart was tripping. This was a new side to Ruben, more dominant, more assertive. I liked it, a lot. I could be his to do whatever he desired with; it would suit me very much. I just wanted to make him happy, and I knew full well he’d make me happy.

Lily Harlem Bio

Lily Harlem is a multi-published, award-winning author of contemporary erotic romance. She lives in the UK with her husband and a bunch of animals, all rescued, and loves to spend her days immersed in imagination.

Her books are a mixture of full-length novels and short stories, some are one offs, some are sequels or part of a series (all can be enjoyed as stand-alone reads). What they each have in common are colorful characters traveling on everyone’s favorite journey — falling in love. If the story isn’t deliciously romantic and down and dirty sexy, it won’t be written, at least not by Lily. So with the bedroom door left well and truly open you are warned to hang on for a steamy, sensual ride - or rides as the case might be!

Links

Buy Links for Breathe You In

Amazon US - http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CEIXC2E

Amazon UK - http://www.amazon.co.uk/Breathe-You-In-ebook/dp/B00CEIXC2E/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1366268167&sr=8-1&keywords=breathe+you+in+by+lily+harlem

Lily Harlem Links

Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/

Blog http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/

Twitter https://twitter.com/lily_harlem

Facebook http://en-gb.facebook.com/people/Lily-Harlem/100003519563064

Facebook author page http://www.facebook.com/pages/Lily-Harlem-author-page/200182030094568

Pinterest http://pinterest.com/lilyharlem/

Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4070110.Lily_Harlem

Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/106837751333678531161/posts

Thank you Lily for spicing up the blog today! It has been a joy having you over and can't wait to hear about your next release very soon!

Just the Messenger Virtual Book Tour

Just the Messenger

By

Ninette Swann

Blurb:

When Graciela Merced fumbles a package she’s delivering for her mysterious and sexy boss, Gene Hardy, she finds out he’s more than just a wealthy photographer. Prepared to lose her job, she confronts him…and ends up embroiled in the tricky takedown of a powerful drug cartel pushing cocaine into the heart of New York City.

Marco Valencia is an undercover agent, working against time—and against Gene Hardy—to crack Angel’s Drug Cartel before the story makes it to the press. When Hardy’s luscious Venezuelan messenger literally falls at his feet, he has no idea just how well he’ll get to know the beauty or how difficult it will be to drop her.

Hardened by experience, Gene Hardy takes his undercover work seriously, and charges a hefty price. When Grace makes a careless mistake and hurls him back into the visage of Marco Valencia, he must either fire her, or involve her in a twisted plot that could kill them all.

As the two men battle over their feelings for Graciela—and their attraction to each other—one thing becomes perfectly clear.

Grace is much more than just the messenger.

Buy Links:

NBP Store: http://noboundariespressstore.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=262

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BOYYKXO

ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-justthemessenger-1098125-152.html

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/just-the-messenger-ninette-swann/1114763651?ean=2940016263878

A Wicked Game: Guest Posting with Gemma Parkes

‘Hi l’m Gemma Parkes, erotic writer and really nice person!’

Thank you Erzabet for inviting me to do a guest spot today.

The statement above is true, l do write erotica, all the time in fact and some of it is really sensual. I’m a sensual person, warm and loving but l have never slept around. I write about sexy situations, ménages, quick sex in voyeuristic situations and people who have only just met satisfying urges they just can’t fight. But l have always been a one man woman.

So what’s it all about?

I love to read well-written erotica, always have. I think women are drawn to it as men are drawn to porn. Sex is fascinating and we are all sexual beings with an ‘itch to scratch’! I see sensuality all around and love to stroke fabrics, cats and skin! So just as crime writers love to explore devious, cunning minds who commit awful crimes, l love to explore naughty, experimental people who love to give themselves to all and sundry without a backward glance!

So now you know a little about me let me tell you about my latest release.

A Wicked Game

Short blurb:

 A clandestine encounter between lecturers at Keywood upper college campus is witnessed by second year psychology student Lucinda White. Determined to make the most of this opportunity Lucinda embarks on a little blackmail, convincing senior lecturer Mr. Peter Caine that she will keep quiet about her discovery in exchange for a series of after college tuition.

But what does Lucinda really want? Is there more to this enigmatic girl than meets the eye?

‘A Wicked Game’ is a story of sexual desire and intrigue. Follow it through its many twists and turns until the story reaches its final climax.

This book is sexually explicit and intended for adults only.

Excerpt:

“How long do you think she’d been standing there?” Amy’s voice was almost shrill in its urgency.

“Damn it, l don’t know! Hell Amy why didn’t you lock the damn door when you came in?”

“You could have locked it yourself if you weren’t in such a hurry Peter.” Amy reminded him testily.

Peter sat down in the large leather swivel chair and stared blankly at his office door. He wished he could will it to go back in time and lock itself against this embarrassing intrusion.

“I will sort this,” he said, “Damn girl shouldn’t be up this end of college in the first place, and she should have knocked.”

Ten minutes later, after sending Amy back to her own office, Peter had gathered his thoughts. He knew he needed to act quickly before the story was spread throughout the entire campus. He made his way down to the main reception where he spoke carefully to the college secretary,

“Will you find out where Lucinda White is right now and tell her to make her way to my office please?” he said as pleasantly as he could before adding, “Immediately.” In a tone that left no-one in any uncertainty about his smouldering agitation. Then he headed back there himself to wait.

When Lucinda knocked quietly on the door just a few minutes later Peter was ready for her. He’d paced the room in an attempt to clear his mind and calm his nerves. It wouldn’t do to show fear.

He was pleased to find the girl quite contrite when he opened the door, her eyes were downcast and her posture slightly nervous.

“Ah Lucinda,” he spoke almost paternally, “Do come in and take a seat.” He gestured to the smaller of the two office chairs and watched as she sat herself down. Somewhat demurely she straightened her skirt before raising her eyes momentarily as if trying to gage Peter’s anger towards her.

Peter took the seat opposite her and rested his palms on his knees as he spoke very clearly and carefully.

“Now Lucinda, we seem to have got ourselves into an uncomfortable situation don’t we?”

“Yes sir.” Lucinda replied, her voice barely audible.

“Perhaps you can explain first and foremost why you felt the need to disturb me in my office during my lunch hour? Then you can explain to me why you didn’t knock before entering.”

Buy Links:

Amazon US

http://www.amazon.com/A-Wicked-Game-ebook/dp/B00BA2DNF6

Amazon UK

http://www.amazon.co.uk/A-Wicked-Game-ebook/dp/B00BA2DNF6

All Romance

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-awickedgame-1052538-144.html

 Thanks Gemma for visiting on the blog today! 

 

Rebel Heartsong Review Tour

REBEL HEARTSONG

by Morgan K. Wyatt

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB:

Townsend Sewell, as heir to the biggest planation in Beaufort County, is also the biggest marital prize. Life is good, at least it was before the war. After the Civil War devalued Confederate money, and stripped their plantation, Townsend became a not so great catch. The only person who stands by him is Yvette, a mulatto companion to his sisters. She jokes that she stayed only to watch over him, which she does, quite well. He can't remember a time the beautiful servant hasn't taken care of him, almost like a wife. He's lucky to have Yvette, but someday some man will steal her away. The thought enrages him. He's unwilling to live without her by his side. Does she feel the same way? If she does, how will they survive when the law declares their love taboo?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Excerpt One:

The kitchen was silent without clatter of dishes, no gossiping, and no scratching from the potboy trying to rid the pot of the last bit of burned grits.  Almost afraid to look, Yvette put her fork down and looked to the swinging door that Townsend filled up so well. Imogene began to wave the staff out of the kitchen.

Townsend ducked his head. “Sorry to bother you, I just wanted a word with Yvette if you don’t mind.” He nodded to Imogene, and then added, “Ma’am.”

“Go ahead. She’s all yars.” Imogene hooted as she left the kitchen as if she found something amusing.

Yvette shook her head. “She’s always finding something funny.”

Townsend pulled out a chair and sat across from her at the worktable. It was so narrow that their knees touched. Did he feel a small tingle zip up his leg too or was it just her? His lips pulled down in a grimace, which probably meant he did, and also that he didn’t like it. It could be that he slammed his knee up against hers, and it just hurt, too. He opened his mouth as if he was ready to say something, then, closed it, pulling his lips into a firm line.

“Townsend, please don’t worry about hurting my feelings. Go ahead and say whatever you have to say. It will make it easier on both of us. That way you can head back home.” Yvette offered the words as a way to help him out. The last thing she wanted was for him to leave. On the other hand, did she want to keep twisting in the breeze? Sometimes she felt like one of those characters in the forbidden novels Emily devoured. The woman was always in love with an inappropriate man, and it never ended well. That, in itself, should be a lesson for her. Taking her fork, she mushed up the rest of the biscuit since her appetite had fled.

Review:

Rebel Heartsong is a period piece that illustrates well the perilous climate of being a woman of color in the time of the Civil War. The opening scene really struck me as very true to form. It was a harsh time when women had very little say on their fate. This story moved me. Any woman who has been a victim of sexual violence knows the fear and hyper awareness that you get in situations like the one Yvette was forced to endure at the onset of the book. While no assault took place, the very real threat of it was present, and in the plantation home where she lived, even a freed black woman could be subjected to abuse and not be able to say a thing. As Yvette found out, to be anything more than ordinary was to call unwanted attention, and that could cost her everything.

The love story between Yvette and Townsend was scorching and made me think of North and South. I have always loved period pieces in the Civil War era and I enjoyed this book for the lush scenery and the array of characters that showed the spirit of the times. The family turmoil was also something that grabbed my attention right away. Life at home can sometimes be full of drama, but can you imagine a plantation full of people and all of the inner workings? It makes the mind boggle when you look at it from a modern perspective. 

Rebel Heartsong is perfect for those fans who love a good story that brings them back to the roots that our country was founded on, and some that have taken centuries to get to.

4/5

 AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Morgan K Wyatt, raised on a steady diet of superheroes, believed she could fly at a very young age. After using trees, barn lofts, sliding boards, and even a second story window as launch pads, she found her flying skills were limited to fast and downward. By the age of nine, her dreams to be a superhero needed some modifications, which caused her to turn to writing and horseback riding as alternatives to flying.

 At the age of twenty, she had another chance at superhero greatness as being one of the few female soldiers trained for combat. The fact that women will be able to serve in combat soon indicates that all the witnesses to the grenade incident have retired. The grenade incident didn’t prevent her two sons or daughter-in-law from enlisting in the service. Having different last names probably helped.

Morgan recently retired from teaching special needs students to write fulltime, instead of in the wee hours of the night. With the help of her helpful husband and loyal hound, she creates characters who often grab plot lines and run with them. As for flying, she prefers the airlines now.

www.morgankwyatt.com

www.twitter.com/morgankwyatt

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Morgan-K-Wyatt/160636730670958?ref=hl

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5826299.Morgan_K_Wyatt

Buy Links

http://store.secretcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=10&products_id=511

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rebel-heartsong-morgan-k-wyatt/1114255840?ean=2940015972269

http://www.amazon.com/Rebel-Heartsong-ebook/dp/B00B76XIN2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1362241950&sr=8-1&keywords=rebel+heartsong

Morgan will be awarding a $5 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn commenter at every stop, and grand prize of the winner's choice of ivory, peach, or white, cultured freshwater pearl necklace to one randomly drawn commenter. Make sure you leave your name and email and follow the blog by GFC and email. Don't miss a post.

Secret Cravings Publishing is offering a sale during the Rebel Heartsong and Escaping West tours.

 

All Morgan K Wyatt books bought May 15-31st are available for another 20% off publisher's site.

 

www.secretcravingspublishing.com

 

The code is Morgan20

Saucy Seaside Moments with Tilly Hunter

Seaside Favourites, by Tilly Hunter

A big thank you to my fellow Smut by the Sea vol 2 author Erzabet for having me over here to share six of the best – things about the seaside, that is:

1. Favourite seaside resort:

Llandudno in North Wales. We went every year when I was a kid. I love that you’ve got the pier and prom with their amusement arcades and doughnut stalls, but you can also go for wild rambles on the Great Orme or swim off the West Shore.

2. Favourite ice cream flavour:

Anything but vanilla. I’ve been storing that line up for the right moment ;-)

3. Favourite coastal hidden gem:

Probably the little faux island of Ynys Llanddwyn off Newborough on Anglesey. On the other hand, I’ve always regretted not going for a swim at Durness on the northern Scottish coast (just along from Cape Wrath) when I happened to be there on a fine, sunny day many years ago.

4. Favourite Smut by the Sea Vol 2 story:

Shipwrecked by Tamsin Flowers. It has a lighthouse in it. And a lighthouse keeper. I once read a book about a guy who dropped out of art college and went to work on a lighthouse just before they were all automated (Stargazing by Peter Hill, if you’re interested). I guess lighthouses are one of my geeky loves, along with maps and allotments.

5. Favourite amusement arcade game:

The 2p machines, as described by Lucy Felthouse in her story, On the Big Wheel. You know the ones, with moving shelves piled high with two-pence coins and you hope yours will be the one to push them all off and down the payout chute.

6. Favourite bizarre seaside setting:

The Principality of Sealand. A WWII fort seven miles off Suffolk declared a sovereign state in the seventies. I read about this in a book about the shipping forecast (Attention All Shipping, by Charlie Connelly). Jeez, I really am a geek.

You can buy Smut by the Sea Vol 2 at All Romance, Amazon UK and Amazon.com.

Tilly Hunter is a British author and proofreader with a wicked imagination and a fondness for tales of fresh air and kinky fun. She has stories in anthologies from House of Erotica, Xcite Books and MLR Press and her first solo collection Miranda’s Tempest: Three Classic Tales with a Kinky Twist is out now from House of Erotica. She blogs at www.tillyhuntererotica.blogspot.com.