SilkWords is the go-to source for interactive romance and erotic fiction.
With gorgeous custom covers and a clean, sophisticated design, the SilkWords site offers a secure, upscale reading environment. In addition to content on their web site, they offer stories for purchase in the standard e-book formats.
SilkWords is owned and operated by a full-time mom with a background in genetics and an RWA RITA-nominated, multi-published sci-fi romance author.
Their technology guy and site designer was the founder of Microsoft Xbox Live.
SilkWords features two formats that allow readers to choose how the stories will proceed.
Pick Your Path:
Will she or won't she? With which man (or woman) in which location? With Pick Your Path romance, you decide. Romance and branched fiction are made for each other, like picking your favorite flavor of ice cream...positions, partners, and paraphernalia, oh my!
Readers vote at choice points and decide how the story will continue. These stories are a great way for readers and authors to connect. It’s exciting to be part of a developing story!
Genre: Contemporary Erotica
Date of Publication: January 3, 2015
Word Count: Reader Vote story
Cover Artist: Indie Designz
When even the month’s rent spent on new brushes isn’t enough to inspire the painter she loves, Sadie offers her body as bait for his muse.
But modeling is more revealing and more pleasurable, riskier and more erotic than she ever expected. And muses can be monstrous.
Diaries of 2 Thick Chicks
Erotica For All
Guest blog and review
A Writer's Mind
Sapphyria's Steamy Books
Freshly Baked Books
Books N Pearls
Anya Breton Author's Blog
Shut Up & Read
Addicted 2 Heroines
happy tails an tales
“Sadie!” James slams out of the bedroom door. “Fuck, you’re late!” He’s grinning. and throws himself across the room at me like a hellhound pup. I haven’t seen him move that fast in months. Through the clothes on the ground, over the milk-crate table to scoop me up and squeeze me like a paint tube, crinkled fierce in the middle. He puts me back on the ground in the kitchenette doorway and holds my face between his hands. They’re cold. He’s taken off his gloves. My heart gives a huge whump. I cover his fingers with my mittened ones. “Have you been working?”
He shakes his head, but grins. His long hair pokes out from under his knit beanie the way a squid’s legs writhe from its body. He’s blond, tan even in the city winter, and his cheekbones sit like armor plates under his genius blue eyes. Seeing him always makes me want to look longer. But then he kisses me, and my eyes close to shut out everything but how his mouth breathes into my lungs, putting desire where/' air was. His lips are so tender, but his kiss isn’t. Somehow, the softness of his mouth creates something strong and tugging that sucks out or dissolves all the insides of me. He makes me liquid, warm and deep, and swallows up my thoughts.
“I got you a present!” he announces, taking his mouth away from me when it’s all I want.
“Yeah?” I’m trying not to reel.
He goes around me into the kitchenette, and returns, hands behind his back, grin about to crack his face.
He hasn’t shaved, and he isn’t clean. His clothes are cheap and paint-stained and his hands look like a mechanic’s, but his teeth are perfect. White as toilets. Straight as his parents. James grew up a rich boy and doesn’t notice that nobody we know has expensive teeth.
He whips one hand out and gives me a box. Upside down and backward, it takes me a second. Hair dye. The good stuff. My roots have been growing in — boring brown under the white-out bleach — but I’ve been too broke for pretty. Before I can even kiss him, he shows the rest of his stash. A half carton — six eggs — in his other hand. My hunger shifts gears with the ease of an old tractor,from metaphorical to very real.
“Oh, holy shit,” I say. “I’ll put water on!”
James steps aside to let me into the kitchen, and there’s already a pot of water on the burner.
“I did, when I came in for the stuff.” He grins, sheepish-proud, like he should be. His gifts are inspired, romantic, and what I’d buy for myself if we had money to blow. I reach to kiss him again, but he grabs my waist and hoists me onto the counter next to the sink. He stands between my legs, and pulls me by my hips till our bodies touch. He keeps his hands there, tucking my ass against him. His kiss is even softer this time, tasting my mouth. It teases the longing in me, drawing it out like endless pizza cheese. I bite into his lower lip. He sucks on mine. I hang between hopes — the paper bag of paint and brushes I bought him waiting in the cupboard behind me, and James’s body, hands, and lips, restless with ambition and talent, roving over me.
Giveaway: 5 copies of Painted Lady.