Friday, May 29, 2015

Infiltrating Her Pack Release Day!


Infiltrating her Pack
Black Hill Wolves
By Dominique Eastwick






The mysterious and intimidating lone wolf, Z, has returned to Los Lobos. Descended from a long line of gifted yet secretive shifters known as Infiltrators, his people are the spies of the shifting world, rarely seen and harder to track.

Ripley Greystone has a big problem—her pack is Alpha-less and a local coyote band knows it. The safety of her pack rides on trusting Drew, the new Alpha of the Black Hills Wolves. But, admitting the reason for needing his help isn’t something she’s quite ready to do.

Drew senses there’s more to Ripley’s request to join his pack than what she leads him to believe. There’s only one way to know for sure—send an Infiltrator to spy on Ripley and her pack.

Forced to infiltrate her pack to discover its hidden secrets and protect it from the coyotes determined to claim the she-wolves for themselves, Z finds more than he expects—all the while fighting the need to claim Ripley as his mate.

Except
A hairsbreadth divided them, and it took all the willpower he processed to fight the building desire to pull her into his arms. Her breathing quickened, and as he gazed into her blue eyes, her raw sensuality forced him deeper into the cavernous pit he’d fallen in when he’d first seen her.
The words came out on a whisper. “You feel it, too, don’t you?”
“This attraction?” Z raised an eyebrow.
          She closed her eyes. “It won’t work. I have secrets you could never understand.”
“We all have secrets,” he said then gave in to his animal nature and claimed her lips, though touching her nowhere else. He burned himself into her, forcing her to recant her words of denial.
It will work. He didn’t know how, but he didn’t think he could walk away from these feelings again. Having ensured the Greystones posed no threat to the Tao Pack, he could make his top priority the safety of his mate. His second would be to figure out the logistics of having a mate not of his pack.
Her deep groan rumbled through him, and every thought but Ripley faded. Passion swirled and something new, something different…something more, accompanied by a fizz running along his spine and through his nervous system, charging his powers. The urge to howl grew.


Coming May 29th 2015



Award winning author Dominique Eastwick currently calls North Carolina home with her husband, two children, one crazy lab, and one lazy cat. Dominique spent much of her early life moving from state to state as a Navy Brat. Because of that traveling is one of her favorite pastimes. When she’s not writing, you can find Dominique with her second love…her camera.

Connect with Dominique:

Twitter : @DominiEastwick



Friday, May 22, 2015

Rain by Taryn Kincaid


Rain
A Beyond Fairytales story
By
Taryn Kincaid
A dystopian retelling of Sleeping Beauty

Pre-Order Now!

Amazon International: http://authl.it/34d

Blurb:
            Sleeping Beauty in a post-apocalyptic land…

            In a world gone mad, where little remains but a vast wasteland of sand, the leader of a troop of roving warriors welcomes a brave young woman into his midst.
            Much as he burns for her, Major Clay Worthington swears to keep his distance from the mysterious woman, so sensitive even the stinging rain can wound her.
Rosina Brierly is besotted with the formidable soldier and will gladly trade her life for one torrid night of blissful passion in his arms.

       But when sleep overcomes them, will true love prevail?

Excerpt:
            Does the major ever feel lust? Does he covet a woman’s touch? He never gave any sign he did. Too aloof and austere, too remote from the simple emotions of mere mortal men.

            He shook her again. “Wake up, princess. The rain will come soon.”

            The men looked forward to the rain. They hated the relentless sun blasting down upon them, as if they thought it would incinerate what was left of the earth beneath their boots, baking the soft sand into badlands as hard as concrete. They’d strip off their T-shirts and boots, their combat fatigues, and sometimes even their camouflage boxer shorts, and dance and play, naked or nearly so, in the slanting gray soup, laughing, tossing round balls or throwing saucer-shaped plastic discs to each other.

            For her, the showers had the opposite effect. The stinging rain sliced into her sensitive skin like acid, raising blisters and sores, sometimes bloodying her.

            She did not know why the major called her princess. Perhaps he didn’t know either. Whatever royalty once walked the earth had long gone, fled underground or died in battle or simply disappeared. The war engulfed every human on the planet, every inch of land, and had waged so long she doubted anyone remembered anymore. Well, maybe Nicodemus. At least he sometimes hinted he did in the stories he told. And she had seen him whisper into the major’s ear, unknown things that made the major pale beneath his weathered tan.

            Major Worthington did not treat her like a princess, though, except when she slumbered, when he knelt before her in her fantasy world, his head bowed, his fist over his heart, laying his sword at her feet and claiming the role of knight. Her hero. Her champion. When she awoke, he remained one of the elite warrior breed roaming the planet, bristling with weapons like the soldiers he led. He treated her as the translator she was to him, sometimes barking orders to her as if she were one of his men, only occasionally seeking her counsel.

            She came fully awake as he jerked her up from the ground and yanked her toward him. The glare of the setting sun broadsided her, hurting her eyes. Why was he so insistent about the impending rain? No clouds yet darkened the sky, although the hour sped toward evening dusk now. But no hint of shadow yet blotted the horizon.

            “I can smell it,” he muttered.


Pre-Order Now!


Coming June 2 from Decadent Publishing


Thursday, May 21, 2015

Her Own Devices


Published May 12, 2015 by LadyLit Publishing
36,000 words
ISBN # 9789881420428
Genre: F/F erotica and erotic romance
Heat level: Explicit (5 flames)
#lesbianerotica #lisabetsarai #steampunk

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Add to your Goodreads Shelf:

Blurb

In Her Own Devices, Lisabet Sarai collects her favorite stories of lesbian desire into a single volume. Meet Ally, former gang member, whose fears losing her identity along with her tattoos in the skilled hands of laser technician Luisa. Get to know butch firefighter Wilhemina “Billie” Macdonald, struggling to recover from the disastrous accident that killed her best buddy, with the help of a rather unconventional psychotherapist. Lick your lips at Goth rock chick Mina, barely into her twenties but brazen as sin, and velvet-clad, cigar-smoking Silicon Valley siren Dr. Marta Hausman.  Share Sister Kathleen Patrick’s confusion and arousal as she finds herself drawn to a most unsuitable partner. Experience submissive femme Jana’s ultimate surrender to her Daddy’s ropes, clamps, and ice cream sundae.

Each of these nine luscious tales will introduce you to distinctively different women. Each demonstrates that, left to her own devices, a woman can find what she needs—passion, comfort, love, healing—in another woman’s arms.

PG Excerpt from “Rush Hour”

I should have taken the subway. I didn’t want to ruin my suit in the rain, but that hardly mattered now. I was just about to give up and walk when I saw a cab with his light on, halfway up the block. Juggling briefcase, purse and umbrella, I scrambled through the crowd on the sidewalk. He might be my last chance.

He was stuck in traffic. I prayed that the signal didn’t change. Just as I reached him, a black-clad figure pushed past me and wrenched the door open.

“Hey! That’s my cab!”

“No way, lady. I got here first.” The girl grinned at me, pale makeup and purple lipstick giving her a ghoulish quality. She started to climb into the vehicle but I grabbed her sleeve.

“I’m late. I need this cab. It’s terribly important. You can take the next one.”

“You think that I don’t have important places to go?” She pulled her arm from my grasp, further stretching her already misshapen sweater. “I’ve got rehearsal in half an hour. Now get out of my way.”

She tried to elbow past me. Desperate, knowing I’d feel bad later, I snatched her shoulder bag and threw it on the sidewalk.

“You bitch!” As she ducked down to pick it up, I slid into the taxi. Before I could slam the door, though, she pushed in after me, jabbing me in the ribs with her umbrella. The door closed just as the traffic light turned green.

“Where to, ladies?”  The cabbie was torn between annoyance and amusement.

“Ow! 32nd and Lex, please.” I could barely get the words out.

“No, don’t listen to her. Houston, near Varick. Step on it!”

“Ignore her. I was in the cab first. If you don’t take me to Murray Hill immediately, I’ll report you.”

A truck cut in front of us. The driver stomped on the brakes, hurling our bodies forward.  The girl let out a wail as her forehead hit the plexiglass partition. I was smothered by sudden remorse.

“Are you all right? Miss?” She slumped down in the seat, looking dazed. A bruise was already reddening above her left eyebrow. “Can you hear me?” She nodded vaguely.

“You should be wearing your seat belts,” the driver commented. I fastened mine, then reached around the young woman’s slight figure to secure hers. From her drenched garments rose a funk of damp wool and marijuana. Multiple steel rings pierced her earlobes. On her pale neck, below her right ear, was a neatly etched tattoo of a skull. Under her shapeless sweater she wore a snug black V-necked jersey. Guilt tightened its grip on me when I realized I was admiring her cleavage.

I leaned toward the driver. “Go ahead to Houston as she asked. She needs help.”

“No, that’s okay.” Her voice quavered a bit. “I’m all right. You can stop at 32nd first. I’ll be fine.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, no problem.” She fingered the swelling on her forehead. “The band can wait. I’m the lead singer. They can’t start without me.”

“Look, I’m sorry about grabbing your bag. That was really rude.”

She grinned, showing an even line of white teeth that contrasted with her livid mouth. “Yeah, it was. Not what I’d expect from a fancy executive like you.”

Explicit Excerpt

"I told you to make yourself comfortable. Do I have to discipline you to get you to obey me?" She gestures at me with the crop. I'm simultaneously terrified and terribly aroused.

"No – no, Ma'am."

"Get those clothes off, then. Now."

I strip as quickly as I can, acutely aware of her dark eyes on me. In thirty seconds or less, my clothes are in a tangled pile on the cushions. I stand naked in front of her, suddenly embarrassed  by the dark fuzz on my legs and in my armpits.

Marta inhales, deep and slow, then releases the smoke through pursed scarlet lips. She is silent as she circles my body, judging me. She's achingly close, but she does not touch me. I tremble every time I sense her moving.

She pauses behind my back, and brushes the riding crop lightly over my buttocks. I freeze. Will she beat me, mark me, make me hers? I brace for the pain, fearful yet strangely eager for the new sensation. Instead she places the crop where I can see it on the lounge.

"Not today, little one – not this time. Not as long as you are a good girl."  I feel her heat, smell her musk mixed with the fruity cigar scent. My legs are rubbery, unstable. She massages my buttocks, molding them in her palms. All at once I feel her finger sliding from behind into my soaking cunt. I clench my muscles around the slender digit, trying to keep her inside me, but she slips free and holds her finger in front of my face. I breathe in my own damp, ripe aroma.

Her voice next to my ear is soft and smooth as velvet. "You certainly are a wet little girl, Loretta. A deliciously wet little slut." She pulls my plait out of the way and kisses me just below the earlobe. Her lips send shivers racing through me, electric arcs that spark across my nipples and converge on my clit.

I'm dying for more, but she pulls back after that brief caress. Her fingers ghost down to the small of my back, where she pulls off the elastic that secures the braid. "When you're with me, I want your hair loose, free. I want to see it flowing over your shoulders."  She arranges it that way as she speaks, then circles back around to evaluate the effect.

"Much better." She flicks a lock away from my breast, almost but not quite touching me. "But I certainly don't want to hide those adorable tits."  Seating herself on the chaise, she beckons me to her. My nipples are just at the level of her lips. She warms one with her breath, and it tightens visibly. I want to scream, to beg her to touch me. She's running this show, though. We both know that.

She fastens her mouth on that needy nipple. I close my eyes as  pleasure and relief overwhelm me. She sucks steadily. My clit twitches and dances as if her mouth were down there instead. I moan and try to rub my hungry pussy against her robe. She bites down hard on the swollen bud of flesh between her lips.  

"Ow!"

"Naughty little slut! Maybe I need to use my crop after all!"  Her actions don't match her words, however. I imagine her seizing her instrument of punishment and throwing me over her lap so that she can chastise me. Instead, she sinks to one knee in front of my pussy and opens me with her mouth and fingers.

About Lisabet Sarai

LISABET SARAI writes in many genres, but F/F fiction is one of her favorites. Her lesbian erotica credits include contributions to Lambda Award winner Where the Girls Are, Ippie-winning Carnal Machines, Best Lesbian Romance 2012, Forbidden Fruit: Stories of Unwise Lesbian  Desire,  and Lammy-nominated Coming Together: Girl on Girl. Her story “The Late Show” appears in the recently released Best Lesbian Erotica 2015. Her first stand-alone lesbian title, The Witches of Gloucester, was release in March by LadyLit.

Lisabet holds more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by her explicit literary endeavors. She has traveled widely and currently lives in Southeast Asia, where she pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to her writing. For all the dirt on Lisabet, visit her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com).


Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Opposites Attract: Five Clashing Tales of Lesbian Lust


Ladylit's 'Fab Five' are back, and this time they will regale you with stories revolving around the age-old theme of Opposites Attract. Find out how a Democrat and a Republican reconcile their different political view points in Cheyenne Blue's 'Coming Out In District 31', how a gym novice and a gym bunny get it on in Lucy Felthouse's 'Same Place, Same Time', and how an older, rather uptight woman deals with a young brat spoiling her holiday in Harper Bliss's 'The Power of Words'. Further stories by Erzabet Bishop and Laila Blake expand the settings in this diverse mini-anthology to a bookstore and a museum. Tension flies high in these five tales of clashing lesbian lust, in which the characters will have to either ignore their desire or broaden their mind.

Table of Contents:
Same Place, Same Time by Lucy Felthouse
Dark Bloomer by Laila Blake
Coming Out in District 31 by Cheyenne Blue
Art Speak by Erzabet Bishop
The Power of Words by Harper Bliss

Check it out today on Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Opposites-Attract-Clashing-Tales-Lesbian-ebook/dp/B00XPVUHUY/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1431742235&sr=1-1&keywords=opposites+attract+bishop

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Just Desserts Pre-Order Now!


Feast on this collection of 22 Contemporary and Paranormal/Sci-Fi/Fantasy Erotic stories from bestselling, award-winning and multi-published authors, in this limited-time anthology. All stories are exclusive new content and can be read without reading the series, but will be icing on the cake for readers loyal to each saga. 




Amazon Pre-order

JUST DESSERTS - A Collection of Bite-Sized Delights 
22 Bestselling, award-winning and multi-published authors bring you the naughtiest delights. 

Michele Bardsley ~ Honey Bear ~ The Pearson’s Security Series 
Renee George ~ Alpha-Bites ~ The Cull: Claimed by the Alpha 
Jodi Redford ~ Perfect Passion ~ Perfect Chemistry 
Zara Cox ~ Indigo Velvet ~ Indigo Lounge Series 
Renea Mason ~ Tasting Paris ~The Good Doctor Trilogy 
Piper Denna ~ Confidential Craving ~ Fantasies Inc. Series 
Erzabet Bishop ~ Black Magic CafĂ© 
Iyana Jenna ~ Strictly Professional 
Anne Lange ~ Blind Taste Test 
S.J. Maylee ~ Common Grounds 
Terri George ~ Feast on Me 
Lee Rene ~ The Sweetness in the Pudding 
Mindy Larson ~ Sweet Tooth 
Felicity Kates ~ Super-Sex Me ~ The Little Miss Kick-Ass Series 
Emma Nichols ~ Sinfully Sweet ~ The Sweet Series 
Libby Sinclair ~ Cake Topper ~ The Incarnation Chronicles 
Rissa Blakeley ~ A Little Taste of Naughty ~ The Shattered Lives Series 
Mariah Kingsley ~ Sugar and Spice 
Rosemary Rey ~ Always the Last One 
Persephone Jones ~ Cherry Tart 
Christine Severin ~ Cherry Lips 
J.S Snow ~ Claiming

Fortune: Arcanium Book 1 Blog Tour and Giveaway


I’m not a BDSM writer, at least not in the sense of contracts, safewords, clubs, and communication. It’s not that I don’t like these things—on the contrary, in the real world, they’re awesome. However, in the fictional world, I prefer to write less codified BDSM. Almost everything I write has those elements in a more organic, natural way, particularly my favorite—power disparity. For the Sanctuary series, it was anxious little Renee against the much more powerful and older werewolf Grant. For the Bloodbound serial, it was Julia against the much more powerful and older vampire.

In Fortune, it’s the fierce but small Maya against the much more powerful and older immortal jinni. Notice a trend? Never let it be said I don’t have a type.

But it’s not a shallow type fantasy. I’ve had a version of it for as long as I can remember, dating back to early readings of Dracula. The things that strike a chord deepest and darkest inside of us stick around for quite a while. Sometimes you end up writing to the tune of that chord for the rest of your life because that’s the niche where you’re most richly fulfilled.

If you’ve read the impressive reader advisory for Fortune, you’ll know that Fortune goes into some pretty dark places. From the very beginning, there’s intense chemistry between Maya and Bell, in part fueled by the aforementioned power disparity, not to mention the matter of captivity.

However, it isn’t until Maya combines the wish that brought her into the demonic circus Arcanium and her own desire for absolution after a wish gone terribly wrong that she—rather than Bell—instigates the Master/slave relationship. For punishment. In a deep-seated need for masochistic submission in order to handle and process what she’s unleashed with her wish. Bell, with all his power, doesn’t trigger the arrangement, but he sure as hell takes it by the reins and takes her over completely, in all the ways she does and doesn’t want. If she wants pain, she’s going to get it. If she doesn’t want to allow herself pleasure, he’ll compel it upon her. That’s what they agreed to, and Maya’s terrified she’ll develop a taste for it.

It’s delicious, it’s dark, it’s utterly delectable from the first hint of flirtation through the development of their unconventional relationship, and I can’t tell you how much I look forward to other people experiencing it with Bell and Maya as well.

If BDSM, or this particular brand of it, isn’t to your taste, don’t worry. This circus has a little something for everyone. Each story is about a different character, with different trials and tribulations, with different wishes and different curses keeping them there. You’re bound to find something that sparks your interest or curiosity.

Welcome to Arcanium.



Blurb for Fortune:

He’s the reason to be careful what you wish for.

After her jealous boyfriend makes an angry, careless wish, Maya DeLuca finds herself trapped in a traveling demonic circus and at the mercy of a devious jinni, Bell Madoc. She joins the other lost souls of Arcanium who suffer in perpetual purgatory under the weight of their wishes, all making the best of a cursed situation.

But Maya’s not even cursed because of her own wish, which means she still has three for Bell to grant.

He may be fond of her—the passion they share is as hellfire hot as it is wrong—but that doesn’t mean she’s safe from his endlessly inventive, wicked imagination. He might twist her wishes at his whim for his own pleasure. Or he might just give her what she wants…which could be even worse.


Excerpt from Fortune:

“If the Ringmaster’s whip makes you think you’re being treated fairly, Maya, I am sure we can come to some arrangement. However, if you go to the Ringmaster with your needs, I require that you limit the damage—the potion does wonders, but some scars run deeper than the healing can reach, and we already have enough scarring down there, don’t we? I will still heal you after your sessions with him, but I will permit them if you feel you need them. Ten lashes a week until you feel forgiven. Does that sound fair?”

“Not enough,” Maya muttered.

“That’s not what I asked. There are other ways to pay. I am offering you one method, but I will only allow so much.”

“Fine,” she said.

“The whisper through your mind is that you want your sessions Saturday evenings.”

A masochistic Mass—the phrase that broke through the fog.

“It would be more convenient during the week when we’re on the road or setting up, but I am sure the Ringmaster will not object. I keep the Ringmaster sated, but it’s important not to give him too much or else he’ll crave more. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

Bell laved over her folds, tracing up and down the labia before swiping through and tasting the wet entrance to her cunt.

Another involuntary reaction, another betrayal.

“What are you doing?” Maya asked, shifting to twist around, but in her position it was hard to move, and her muscles didn’t particularly want to after what she’d put them through.

“I should think that would be dreadfully obvious,” Bell replied, speaking into her inner thigh before returning to her cunt.

“I don’t want to feel—” Her moan cut her off as he slipped a hand underneath her and palmed her clit with broad, luxurious strokes.

“Oh, but you do,” Bell said. He kissed up her spine until he lay on top of her, his cock resting heavy and full against her ass. “You want to feel so much. I can help you. I can punish you, Maya. I desire to give you pleasure, and you will accept it. You will do as I tell you. You will obey my every wish, no matter how uncomfortable you become, because it will eventually give you the pleasure that I crave to offer.”

“That doesn’t sound like punishment,” Maya said.

“Give it time,” he said.


Like the sound of Fortune? Buy it here.


Aurelia T. Evans is an up-and-coming erotica author with a penchant for horror and the supernatural.

She's the twisted mind behind the were/shifter Sanctuary trilogy, demonic circus series Arcanium, and spiritual gothic urban fantasy series Meridian (publication TBD). She's also had short stories featured in various erotic anthologies.

Aurelia presently lives in Dallas, Texas (although she doesn't ride horses or wear hats). She loves cats and enjoys baking as much as she dislikes cooking. She's a walker, not a runner, and she writes outside as often as possible.


Links:
Arcanium series page: https://aureliatevans.wordpress.com/arcanium-series/
Blog: https://aureliatevans.wordpress.com/



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