Fifty Shades of Green

Plant Sex 101

Gardening’s the world’s dirtiest profession. I’m not just talking about under-your-nails dirt. I’m talking sexy botany.

If you have a thriving garden there’s an orgy going on in your backyard.

First there’s the perfume: flowers—from trees, shrubs, annuals (those are the flowers and plants that grow, flower, and die all in one year), perennials (plants, like roses and shrubs, that stick around for years), bulbs (like tulips), tubers (dahlias), rhizomes (irises) . . . all of these create flowers that beckon pollinators with their enticing scents. Then there’s the gorgeous hues, the attention grabbers that also say,“Come do me.” The pollinators, in a hungry (one might say even lusty) frame of mind buzz and flutter from plant to plant. They sip, and rub, and gather, and frolic around in the luxuriousness of the silken flower, drinking the nectar, gathering pollen. 

Pollen, by the way, is plant sperm.

The pollinator’s happy sipping that plant-wine. The plant’s very excited because it’s getting . . . laid.

The pollen moves from one flower to another as the bees and other pollinators (such as wasps, flies, butterflies, moths, ants, sometimes even humans) move around in the orgy. The goal for the flower, who have put on this party, is for the pollen grains to attach to the lady part of the flower. The top of this part is called a stigma (think vagina opening). The pollen travels down the tube and fertilizes the female “eggs” in the ovule (think womb). Of course there are many variations of sexual intercourse in the plant world, so this isn’t the only way it happens . . . but you get the idea.

If fertilization occurs, the seeds (babies) ripen in the ovary and eventually are borne onto the soil—again through many variations: spontaneous explosion of the seed case, the wind might loosen and free them (think dandelions). Animals, birds, and insects might dine on the seeds and later deposit them. When seeds land on the sweet earth and the conditions are right they germinate, grow, reach maturity.

And the orgy invitations will go out again next season.

—Sandra Knauf

Excerpt from Fifty Shades of Green, “Exploding Alfalfa”

Lessons in botany can be very . . . arousing, as this story about a native plant field trip with an eager student and a passionate professor shows. —SK

“I loved what you said about the alfalfa exploding.” I looked up into his eyes, and my longing connected with something within him. There was no turning back. Here goes, I thought. “I found it erotic.”

My remark caused a tremble in his hands. He turned to watch the last car pull out of the parking lot and head down the gravel road. His car’s trunk was open, ready for his books and gear. He turned to me and softly said, “Maybe you’ll write about it on your blog?”

My heart thudded. “You’ve read it?”

“A colleague forwards it to me every week. It’s quite a hit in the biology department.” At that he looked a little embarrassed and shy. My heart melted.

“Thank you, that means a lot.” I stepped closer, close enough to smell him. He smelled earthy and spicy and wonderful. I looked up at him; he met my gaze and smiled.

“Do you have any plans for lunch?” He gestured to his backpack. “I brought a couple of sandwiches, some fruit. I was going to eat in the car and then go up the trail to pick some more of those raspberries.” He suddenly seemed shy again.

“I would love to join you for lunch, Professor.” I saw that there was a wool blanket in the trunk next to the backpack and seized the opportunity. “I see you have a blanket. Why don’t we have a little picnic, and then you can show me where those berries are? It’ll be fun.”

He flushed again, and I knew then that he felt the same as I did. He grabbed his backpack from the trunk—and the blanket. “Come on, I’ll show you my favorite spot up here.”

We hiked back up the trail for a quarter mile and then went down a steep embankment to the stream. I couldn’t get over how wonderful the air smelled, how every cell of my body seemed electrified, and God, I was getting wet. Never had anything like this happened in my life. I had always been the shy, quiet nerd, and so, I could tell, had this man. Now I sensed he was growing more excited with every moment, too. He tried to make small talk, but it was no use, we could barely put a sentence together.

The spot we came to had a grassy area under a beautiful western river birch. No one could see anything from the trail as shrubs lined the road. The water was rushing so fast (like my heart) no one could possibly hear us . . .

“There are lots of raspberries up there, by the road,” he pointed.

“Mmmm. We’ll have to pick some on our way back . . .”

He laid out the blanket then turned around, took me in his arms and kissed me with a forcefulness that left me weak and wanting. He tasted sweet and salty, his scent was so good, dark woods, spice, musk. The embrace felt like more than just sexual excitement; it felt like a claiming. I pressed my body into his and discovered that his erection was enormous.

The world around us disappeared as we began fumbling with each other’s clothes, between fondling, exploring, kissing, sucking. We had a few moments of nervous laughter as we struggled with tugging off shoes and socks and underwear. And all through it I felt the building of an intense hunger.

—Gloria Holden

Blurb and buy links

Fifty Shades of Green is a garden of naughty delights!
Within our pages you'll discover:

- Virile gods and their mortal conquests.
- A community garden’s secret (and very dirty) fertility ritual.
- An Edwardian dominatrix living out her sadistic garden fantasies. 
- Student/teacher lessons in horticultural hotness.
- Young lovers seeking the help of green witches.
- A beautiful, blind priest who helps an injured traveler.
. . . and so much more.

Peek inside the garden gate.

(You know you want to.)

A dozen racy tales await.

Fifty Shades of Green is a collection of twelve delicious and erotic short stories with gardening themes. What you'll find in these pages is hotter than the hottest pepper on the Scoville index of heat! And smart, not smutty. Well . . . maybe a little smutty.

To Buy Fifty Shades of Green (it’s on sale, just for you):

Amazon.com UK

Amazon.com US

Author Bio and Links

Publisher Sandra Knauf

Sandra Knauf has been a featured “Colorado Voices” columnist for The Denver Post and her humorous essays have appeared nationally in GreenPrints, an Utne Reader award-nominated garden writing journal. She has also been a guest commentator on KRCC’s (a NPR affiliate station) “Western Skies” radio show. In addition to Fifty Shades of Green, her publishing company has published six volumes of the garden writing journal Greenwoman, a young adult fantasy/sci-fi novel, Zera and the Green Man, and other works.

Sandra Knauf’s Greenwoman Publishing website

Sandra Knauf’s Flora’s Forum blog

Gloria Holden fell in love with plants at the age of seven, when she pressed a pinto bean (culled from her family's dinner) into the soil—and the miracle of life revealed itself. When she grew up and became a mother she decided to follow her obsession and write about the green world. She marvels daily at the splendors of creation and feels that connecting with this force is the key to . . . everything. This is her first erotic story.               

FREE Sample Stories!

To sample two free stories from Fifty Shades of Green visit our Garden Shorts website.

If you sign up for our newsletter you will be sent “Seed” (our sexy story about a community garden’s secret fertility ritual).

To read “Phallus Impudicus,” (a tale about the horny god Pan’s visit with a lonely gardener) just click on the Fifty Shades SAMPLE! tab

Breathless Monday: Palehua

Hello again Monday morning readers! Today we also welcome return guest A.J. Llewellyn. We are once more talking writing, new releases and maybe a little chocolate...

1.       How did you start writing erotic romance?

Hi again Erzabet, thanks so much for having me here again! I was just here a couple of months ago so some of my answers haven’t really changed but I’ll try and be original! I started writing when I was very young but I didn’t mention last time that I read Mills and Boon novels (The Australian equivalent of Harlequin Romances) obsessively from the time I was twelve. I wrote one when I was nineteen but they rejected it. I revamped it years later and it was accepted! So I’ve been the a while!

2.       Plotter or pantster?

I do plot but I never stick to the plan…sadly I’m an off-the grid kinda person!

3.       What are three things you have on your writing desk?

Well, something to drink, my cats, and fruit. I gave up smoking 20 years ago and it affected my work because I typed with a cigarette dangling from my lips. I still miss it! So I have to have something in my mouth. Oh, that’s sounds kinda naughty, doesn’t it?

4.       Favorite food?

Dessert. I love chocolate!

5.       Tell us a little about your new release. What character in the book really spoke to you?

Last time I was here I was talking about my first book with Breathless Press. It was ‘Ailani: The Last Warrior, Book  1. This time I am here to talk about the second book in this M/M, fantasy/paranormal series, Palehua.

I love all the characters but I have to say this time I really have a soft spot for Lahala, who is Lio’s landlady. She has an unusual profession: she owns a flea circus. I once stayed with a woman on the Big Island of Hawaii who had a flea circus and I itched the whole time I was there. Check out some flea circuses in action on YouTube. There are some nutters out there! So I have based Lahala on that crazy old lady, plus another woman I knew who’d been one of Don Ho’s mistresses. He had many! She still mourns his passing.

I had a lot of fun creating Lahala but sheesh I just started to itch typing all this!

6. I write because killing people is illegal, but killing them in fiction is groovy.

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

I like writing about ordinary people caught up in extraordinary situations. That’s what’s interesting to me. How a regular guy handles something shocking/amazing/life-changing.

8. What is the sexiest scene you ever wrote?

I really work on each and every sex scene but I loved the one in Palehua…I won’t say which  one, I’ll let the readers find it, but I’ll just say it incorporates an interesting use of furniture!

9. What advice would you give new authors in the erotica/romance field?

Write from the heart. Don’t write in a genre because you think it will sell. Write the kind of        story you want to read yourself. I write books because they are stories nobody else will write!

10. What is next on your writerly horizon?

I have several WiPs on the boil! Please check my website www.ajllewellyn.com for updates,      free short stories, and free blog stories.  Also please feel free to sign up for my free monthly newsletter which has all kinds of tidbits in there. I give away one free ebook a month to one lucky reader. The sign-up link is below.

              Thanks for having me here, again, Erzabet!

Palehua: The Last Warrior Book 2:

Synopsis:

Lio Paikai, reincarnated warrior of the lost Hawaiian kingdom, finds trouble in paradise. The old island gods demand Palehua from his family: blood sacrifice.

Lio Paikai is adjusting to both his new, extremely passionate relationship with his lover, Kord Ashley, and his status as 'Ailani,the reincarnated, loyal warrior who fought for the last king of the Hawaiian islands Oahu and Maui. Having severed his ties with his mother, Kalani, Lio grows closer to his father and his new family, but Kalani won't leave them alone. 

Violating a restraining order of protection, she is arrested. Hours later, when Lio accompanies his stepmother to a birthing class, a strange woman falls from the sky landing on the hood of his SUV. Old wounds, old curses, and the demand for retribution threaten to destroy his entire family. Lio must uncover the identity of the fallen woman and soon learns her heartbreaking connection to his mother and the damage it has caused Kalani her entire life. Lio must right an ancient wrong and appease the old island gods that demand an immediate Palehua: blood sacrifice.

Buy Link

http://www.breathlesspress.com/index.php?main_page=product_free_shipping_info&cPath=1&products_id=689

Excerpt:

One hour and five minutes later, we walked out of the house. Marcella kept assuring me I'd done very well as she held my arm. My back, neck, and shoulders ached. I'd had to act out giving birth to a baby-doll while Marcella pretended to be my birthing partner.

I felt sorry for my dad. The way she'd screamed at me gave me every indication that she would be a real Nazi in the delivery room. 

I was in total panic. I'd had to pretend to give birth to the fake baby so that I empathizedwith Marcella's process, but found the experience so traumatic I didn't think I'd ever get over it. I kept trying to imagine her vagina opening to a huge, cavernous space as my father massaged the baby's emerging head with olive oil. 

Had he done this for me and Louie? What about Marcella? Wouldn't the pain be horrendous? 

"You did great, sweetie," she said. "You're a champion." 

"No, I'm not. I'm a wuss. I couldn't handle the belly." 

"You were fabulous." 

"Who was better, me or Kord?" 

"Oh, sweetie. Don't do this to yourself." 

"Kord, right?" 

She flashed me a guilty look. "Well, he sang show tunes as he delivered." She frowned suddenly. "I should have realized then that he was gay." 

As we got to the SUV, she peered inside. "Sweetie, do we have any apples in there?" 

No, we didn't, but a quick stop over at Foodland would fix that. 

As I let her into the passenger side, I stared across the road at a newish house right on the corner. I had no idea why it held my interest, but I caught a sudden glimpse of ghostly children running across the street to it. 

I blinked, and nostalgia filled my soul. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The streets were all gone, and I stared at miles and miles of sugar crops. I was standing on the site of an old plantation. 

I saw a flash of a different building right on this corner. It was the kind of old Hawaiian-style building that marked a different era. Painted white and with a red roof, it had a lanai in front. I swear I smelled ice cream and chocolate. I heard laughter. 

Across the top I saw in faded lettering the name Goo. 

And just like that, the image faded. 

When I got into the driver's side, Marcella said, "What are you seeing, sweetie?" 

Shaking my head, I threw off the sudden emotion I felt. "I know it sounds weird, but I got a glimpse of what used to be there." 

"What did you see?" 

I hesitated. "A huge sugar plantation. And right where the house is, I saw a shop. A lot of kids went to it. I think it was a kind of soda fountain." 

She reached her hand over to mine. "It was. It was the old Plantation Store, but people called it Charlie Goo's Store after the owner. It closed about twenty years ago." 

I nodded. A strange, unsettled feeling came over me. 

"You think maybe the spirits are getting you ready for a new case?" she asked. 

"I'm thinking, maybe." 

We weren't wrong. 

Twenty seconds later, something fell on the hood of the car, making us both scream. It wasn't a coconut. It wasn't a bowling bowl. It wasn't a vagina or even an empathy belly. What fell on my hood and scared the heck out of both of us was a woman. At least, I thought she was. 

And she'd fallen out of the clear blue sky.

About the Author:

A.J. Llewellyn lives in California, but dreams of living in Hawaii. Frequent trips to all the islands, bags of Kona coffee in the fridge and a healthy collection of Hawaiian records keep this writer refueled.

A.J’s passion for the islands have led to writing a play about the last ruling monarch of Hawaii, Queen Lili’uokalani, plus a non-erotic novel about the overthrow of her kingdom written in diary form from her maid’s point of view.

AJ never lacks inspiration for male/male erotic romances and on the rare occasions this happens, pursue other passions such as collecting books on Hawaiiana, surfing and spending time with friends and animal companions.

A.J. Llewellyn believes that love is a song best sung out loud.

How to find/friend me:

email: ajllewellyn@gmail.com

website: www.ajllewellyn.com

www.facebook.com/aj.llewellyn

www.twitter.com/ajllewellyn

Newsletter sign-up: ajllewellynnewsletter@gmail.com

I’m an app! Download my FREE A.J. Llewellyn App for Android here:  http://tinyurl.com/lkbc4wm

Breathless Monday: The Jewel of Ramstone

Greetings and happy Monday! Today we have the amazingly talented J. M. Powers talking about her new novel the Jewel of Ramstone, writing and well...shrimp scampi.

1.       How did you start writing romance?

I started in high-school. Instead of opening a school book during study hall, I'd write one. Usually, they'd end up sad with some girl crying in the rain. I didn't quite grasp the concept of a happily ever after…yeah, I suppose that wasn't really a romance was it? More like tragedy. However, after my first kiss, my writing advanced. My first romance blossomed and so did my first happily ever after story. *squints and tilts head* Hmm, come to think of it…that guy left me crying on my front porch when he went off to college. It's a wonder I chose romance as my genre. Maybe it chose me.

2. Plotter or pantster?

Both. I start with an outline then halfway through I toss it over my shoulder. My characters wear the pants from that moment on. So I guess you can say I'm a pantser.

3. What are three things you have on your writing desk?

Coffee, chocolate and phone. (My sister and I call each other and say stuff like: I'm trying to think of a word…)

4. Favorite food?

Shrimp scampi

5. Tell us a little about your new release. What character in the book really spoke to you?

The main character, Ruby and her best friend, Sarah really spoke to me. Their friendship is unwavering despite their differences. Galeron, the man Ruby loves, spoke to me as well. His brooding and self-imposed guilt reminded me of someone I know. That made him real and easy to write about. Galeron…oh lord…what a man. I even dreamt about him. If Ruby knew what fantasy came true in my dream I'd have an arrow in my heart.

Jewel of Ramstone is more than a romance novel, though. It's filled with struggles, growth, battles, death, hope and loss. I believe there is something for every reader. (A man—I'll hold to my promise not to divulge his identity— found the ARC on his wife's side of the bed. He intended to read the first few pages but ended up reading the whole book. And loved it.)

6. I write because ____...

 Because I must. That's the truth. I always have ideas in my head ready to go into a book.

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

Woman who are strong, spunky and unconventional. That pretty much describes Ruby in Jewel of Ramstone.

8. What is the sexiest scene you ever wrote?

There's a scene in Jewel of Ramstone where Ruby and Galeron are off to hunt. In a playful moment, he chases her and throws her over his shoulder without slowing his stride. They end up lying in the meadow….oh yeah. I love that scene. So loving and carefree.

9. What advice would you give new authors in the romance field?

I state the obvious, but write from the heart. Use the love/heartache/laughter/tears you've experienced in your life and infuse it into your writing. Write what you know. And if you write historical romance, do your research. 

10. What is next on your writerly horizon?

I have 4 books in my wip folder. I'm currently working on the second of the Ramstone Series. A couple of secondary characters refused to shut the hell up when I finished Jewel of Ramstone. I have to tell their story.

Thank you for taking the time to visit this site! And thank you, Erzabet's Enchantments, for hosting me!

My latest novel, Jewel of Ramstone, is available at Breathless Press and most places books are 

sold.

Blurb:

A maiden, unable to recall who she is, must battle evil to regain the memory of her past and the hope of a future.  

Awaking in the forest, a young maiden recalls naught—including her name. Equally conflicting is her desire to both slap and kiss Sir Galeron, the knight who claims to have protected her while she was unconscious. Much to her chagrin, he dubs her "Ruby of the Forest" due to her red hair, and insists she find refuge at his home of Ramstone. Prickling at his demanding ways, but with no other option, she accepts his offer. And although his kiss flames her attraction even more, Galeron dashes it with a confession. The brute is trothed to another.

Ruby's journey is filled with laughter and weeping, daydreams and discovered abilities. But never does she feel complete. Her heart longs for a future that her past may destroy. Evil lurks, treading on each tidbit of memory she recovers. Will Ruby ever recall her past? And after an attack in the village that sparks a horrific nightmare, does she even want to?

Buy Link

http://www.breathlesspress.com/index.php?main_page=product_free_shipping_info&cPath=17&products_id=687

Excerpt:

"Ask me anything. Mayhap I can help." His deep voice broke the silence.

How was he to help? "Pray tell, how did we come to share the forest?"

"I shall explain." He bent and picked up a twig, then proceeded to peel the bark off. With each curl he tossed aside, she grew more frustrated.

'Twas better to allow mistrust. Stand strong. She gasped. Unexpected, the thought rang with such clarity, it seemed someone else had spoken. "Perchance you should be honest. Did you drug me? Spell me?"

He tossed the twig aside. Though his eyes remained on her face, her whole body felt his scrutiny. "'Twould do you well to hold your tongue."

"I am beginning to dislike you," she said, knowing full well the opposite was true. She truly wished her insides would cease…prickling? And her head. Damn, it ached so. Tingles and pain aside, she tried to focus. "Do you intend to explain or not?"

"I seek a means to tell you gently."

With a slight shrug, she said, "No need for gentleness. You already tossed me about." She grinned despite the truth in her statement.

He sighed. "It appears you are lost."

"God's eyes, knight!" She shook her head. "You must be a great sorcerer to possess such insight."

"Your tongue shall be your undoing. Best you still it."

Twice he attempted to stifle her. She clenched her teeth. "Still it?"

Galeron's jaw twitched and she wondered if he were quelling a smile. "I found you here in the woodlands. I did not hold you captive, drug you, or harm you." He blinked slowly. "Hold to that."

She nodded. "Forgive—"

"Nay need. I understand. You now stand a day's ride from Ramstone. Have you heard of it?"

He pushed off the tree and came to sit beside her, his thigh nearly touching her own. Nearly. It took a moment for her answer. "Nay, I do not recall Ramstone." The fact she did not recall much of anything choked off the rest of her response.

"Odd," he said, more to himself than her.

Sighing, she realized how badly her masquerade of bravery was faltering. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hand come toward her. Surprised at the urge to lean into his touch, she remained still and allowed him to brush back the wisps of hair from her brow. His hand lowered in a fist, yet his voice was laced with tenderness.

"It pains me that I cannot give you answers." His gaze strayed from her face, lowering to her neck.

Covering the neckline of her tunic with both hands, she glared at him. "Focus elsewhere." He sees me as a woman after all. She dashed the thought away. Almost.

"I intend nay disrespect. The bruising on your neck concerns me." Gently brushing her hand aside, he took a closer look. "Fingerprints."

It took all she had not to cry out. Who harmed her?

"When we discovered you, there was nay sign of anyone else."

She glanced around. "We?"

"I sent my men home."

She blinked. Then blinked again. "Your men."

"My brother, a healer, assured me your wounds were not serious, so I decided to wait—"

She put up her hand. "Why not leave me under the care of your healer? Or leave me in the nearest village?"

He swallowed hard. "It matters not! Are you always so…so…inquisitive?"

Ah, this man was not used to being questioned. She tried to ease his surly mood. "A shame your men were sent on their way. No one laid witness when I kicked you and bashed your comely face before you so unceremoniously dropped a maiden to the ground."

He blew a long breath. "You insist on repeating that. Had you dressed appropriately, I would not have thought you a lad." His chuckle made her grin. "Although you certainly fight like a maiden."

She swiped her hand through the air. "Carry on."

"Carry on," he muttered. "I fear you shall interrupt again." He looked up through the trees, ignoring her huff. "We still had several days before reaching our destination when we found you. With that in mind, I postponed the journey and sent my men back to Ramstone."

"I see." She studied the frayed edge of her tunic. "How long have I been here?"

"I watched over you a single night. How long you were here remains a mystery. I was only gone a short time for I needed to boil meat into a broth to sustain you. Had I known you were a maiden, I never would have left you alone."

Her head snapped up. "Yet you would a lad? I am not defenseless simply because I am a female."

Galeron's eyes hardened. "Aye, 'tis so. I returned to find you brandishing a dagger. I left it in case you awoke and felt unsafe, not to use against me."

She ran her hands through the leaves and shrugged a silent apology, too stubborn to utter it out loud.

"Fair one?"

Damnation, she hated when he addressed her with those words, and yet it awoke something in her, for he said it with tenderness. She glared at his smiling face. "Why are you calling me that?" To her chagrin, what she'd meant as snide came out as quite curious.

He splayed his hands in question, "Would you prefer I call you lad?" Two furrows appeared on his brow at her silent glare. "Because, you have yet to give your name."

Disarmed, she swallowed her spiteful attitude. "If I only could." She locked away her tears, her dismay, and did her best to keep her voice steady. "I hoped you would know…would say it by now. Sir Galeron, I…I recall naught before I saw you standing before me."

Seeming to battle with her revelation, Galeron's expression flitted from stunned to confused. Then his gaze bore into her with such tenderness it nearly undid her. "Nay memory?" he finally whispered.

She shook her head. He guided her head to his shoulder. Barely a moment passed before he released her, rose to his feet, and strode away. Unsure of why he left so abruptly, she frowned when he looked back.

"I regret I cannot ease your uncertainty." He stooped to gather twigs. "However, I am able to ease your hunger. After breaking our fast, we shall take leave."

She dabbed her impending tears as soon as his back was turned.

"We should arrive at Ramstone by nightfall."

"I am to stay at your home? What shall your wife think?"

"There is nay wife." He grabbed a branch and added it to his arms. "But there is plentiful family about."

Holding the tree for support, she stood, waiting for the dizziness to subside before she followed. When he turned, she picked up a branch, embarrassed at how silly she looked traipsing on his heels. Gathering an armload of kindling, she stole glances at him, each time wondering how it would feel to remain in his arms. She piled the branches then watched him arrange them.

"Building a fire?" Hark, she was a fool.

"Nay, I am building an abode." And he solidified the fact.

"I want my own chamber then." Several paces away, she sat. Sunlight peeked through the forest canopy. She closed her eyes and raised her face to the warmth. Like a constant itch, she felt his gaze. She slowly peered through her lashes. Aye, he was staring—no—studying her face. Her gash. Her ugly face. She sighed and looked to the sky instead.

"God's eyes," he muttered.

She turned to him. Very well, if he finds a need to gawk, I shall give him a full view of my battered face. "Sir Galeron, what worries you so? Has my plight delayed your duties?"

"Nay." He jammed the skinned carcasses on a sharpened branch.

"I heard your curse. Was it in frustration of not reaching your destination?" Oh, how she wished to smirk at his rudeness, but she kept her poise.

"I was not delayed from anything that could not wait." Keeping his eyes shielded, he placed the meat across the spit before offering a weak smile. "I pray forgiveness for my curse reaching your ears."

Wrapping her arms around her legs, she rested her unscathed cheek on her knees. "Curses are naught. I am simply thankful you helped me, Sir Galeron." Apparently he was too kind to mention her affliction. She hated the pity. 

Seemingly distracted, he arranged kindling then retrieved a piece of hammered steel and flint from a pouch on his belt.

"I pray you can forgive my initial rudeness." When he didn't respond, she added, "Ah, I gather forgiveness shall come with time."

Galeron struck the steel with a bit of flint. "I never held ill will. I understood the reason you lashed out." He blew on the kindling until it caught. "You are forgiven for bashing your head into mine as well."

"Ha!" She rose and strode to the fire. Her gaze flitted over his body. He looked up, catching her stare, and alas, stared back. Heat crept up her neck, spreading to her face. Surely, 'twas the fire's heat causing her flush—she hoped he believed the same lie.

Galeron grinned. His demeanor was infuriating. And endearing. And more confusing than her loss of memory.

"Sit." He continued to tend the fire.

She paid no heed to his demand, and thrust her hands toward the fire. To her dismay, the sharp smell of the rabbit caused her stomach to roar with hunger.

Galeron's blue eyes sparked with mischievousness. "I gather 'tis been some time since you ate?"

"Apparently." She plunked down on a fallen log, certain her face turned countless shades of crimson.

Taking a seat beside her, Galeron chuckled and poked at the fire. He was so close she could smell the woodsy scent on his skin. She inhaled deeper, tucking the fragrance into her mind to savor when she was left to her own.

He cleared his throat. "Allow me to tend to that cut."

Inwardly cringing, she changed the subject. "How long before we eat?"

With a quick wink, he leaned back and rummaged in his saddle pack. Taking her hand, he placed an apple in it, keeping one for himself. His smile highlighted the dimple in his chin and she found herself offering a genuine smile in return.

"Ah, glorious," she said, grateful he didn't see how his touch affected her. Waving his offer to use his dagger, she bit heartily into the fruit, and moaned, relishing the explosion of juice across her tongue. "Naught could taste sweeter in this moment."

Oh, but she did know one thing that might. Tasting the nectar on his lips would certainly qualify. She sensed his tension when she took a bite. Mayhap he had the same thought? He grunted and crunched into the apple, mumbling something about a damn green-eyed mystery.

Were her eyes green? Damnation. Her mind was truly addled.

About the author:

J.M. Powers harbors an alter ego of a normal woman named Jeannie. (Her editor is still on the fence about the whole 'normal' thing.) Jeannie's proficient at research, gluten-free cooking, and embarrassing her teenagers by wearing skinny jeans to the grocery store. J.M., the author-ego, plunges so deep into her writing; she forgets life outside her creations still goes on. More often than not, J.M. answers with a glassy stare when her family asks what's for dinner. Despite the craziness between reality and the world of writing, life falls together without broken bones or hearts.

You can find her at the following links:

Blog

Facebook

Amazon Author Page

Lakeland Witches Trilogy by KD Grace

Giveaway: And to help me celebrate the relaunch of The Lakeland Witches Trilogy, I’m giving away a $50/£30 Amazon gift voucher. Enter via the Rafflecopter at the bottom of the post!  

Every Character Has a Story by K D Grace (@kd_grace)

Thanks so much for having me on your wonderful blog, Erzabet! It’s a real pleasure to be here and share the last day of the Lakeland Witches Trilogy blog tour with you and your fabulous readers.
I’d like to talk about my wordiness – you know, the kind of thing that would allow someone to graduate from writing short stories, to novels, to trilogies to series. Move over Game of Thrones J Although I’ll be the first to say, I do love to talk, and I do love to spin a good, naughty yarn, I can’t completely take the credit for bridging that chasm between a novel and a trilogy and beyond. I remember when I first realized that Body Temperature and Rising actually had to be a trilogy.

 I was terrified! I didn’t want to write a trilogy. I wanted to wrap everything up in a nice little 80,000 word package with a sexy cover and have it all done and dusted. But my characters, including my formidable villain, Deacon, weren’t having it. Deacon had no intention of letting Tara Stone and the Elemental Coven off the hook after only 80K! What kind of a wimpy villain can only be tough for one novel???  He was way too evil and mysterious and contradictory to be wrapped up in one book. But it wasn’t just Deacon’s refusal to get with the one-novel program that spurred me on to my first trilogy, shaking in my walking boots as I went. It was the fact that every single person in the Elemental Coven had a story to tell. I was only through with the first two chapters of Body Temperature and Rising before I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Anderson’s story would have to be told. And, of course, if Deacon is really holding a very long-term grudge on Tara Stone, the Elemental Coven’s formidable leader, then her story would have to be told in conjunction with his.
Within the context of telling the stories of Anderson and Tara, of course, Cassandra and Kennet would have to become major players, but what about Alice, and Fiori and Sky? What about Ferris, the mysterious man set to protect Cassandra by unknown forces? Ferris showed up out of the clear-blue in Riding the Ether, Anderson and Cassandra’s story.

 Ferris had the wonderful ability to be totally unassuming to the point people would forget he was there. But Ferris had secrets, Ferris had magic of his own, Ferris was a formidable fighter and – who knew such an unpretentious man could be so damned good in bed???

It was when I finished the Lakeland Witches trilogy that I realized there were other stories to be told, that the coven had a rich history and each character had a story that needed and wanted to be shared. I chose Ferris’s story as a little experiment – a serial that would unfold on my blog at regular intervals, a serial that turned out to be nearly a novel-length novella. The final episode was just posted on Halloween on the last day of my Things that Go Hump in the Night Blog Party. Demon Interrupted, Ferris’s story was a total surprise to me. I really did start out without a clue why a man would deliberately choose not to remember any of his past, and I got way more than I bargained for. Hopefully readers will have too. I hope while you’re checking out the Lakeland Witches Trilogy, that you’ll also go on over to my blog and enjoy Ferris’s story. It’s free, it’s complete, and it’s scary, sexy.

I also hope that there’ll be more visits with the Lakeland Witches in the future. There are so many more stories there to be told, and I love to hang out with the witches and their friends at Elemental Cottage in the gorgeous English Lake District. I hope you’ll join me there.
Demon Interrupted Blurb:
What secrets does a man have when he chooses to live under a spell that magically erases his past? When that spell is broken Ferris Ryder must choose to remember all that he was, all that he has done and all that drove him to willingly forget. If he chooses not to remember, the consequences will be dire for himself and the Elemental Coven, who are now his family.
Is the mysterious Elaine, who both fears and desires Ferris, a ghost with a past all her own, or merely a figment of his fevered dreams as he struggles against time to remember the past he fears or destroy the very people for whom he chose to forget.
Links: http://kdgrace.co.uk/books/demon-interrupted-a-lakeland-witches-serial/
Demon Interrupted Excerpt:

In a room full of people Ferris could remain totally unnoticed. It was almost as though he were invisible. He heard things that way, saw things that others missed. Fiori suspected that was part of his magic. However, at the moment, he was completely and totally the centre of her attention as his warm, wet tongue teased its way down and around the puckered peaks and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. One splayed hand cupped and fondled her tight pubic curls while the other worried open his fly. What he was doing to her body was also a part of his magic and way more of a surprise, considering the man’s unassuming nature, than his ability to blend in.

She writhed beneath him totally naked, just as she had been when he entered her room, gently easing her out of a bad dream, back into the Waking World, and into his arms. She didn’t know where he’d been before he came to her. The man seldom slept -- and him not even a ghost. He might have adjourned to the library after the rest of the house had entered the Dream World, or perhaps he had been in Skye’s bed sharing pleasure with her and Alice. He was generous with his affections. But then he’d hardly fit in at Elemental Cottage if he were otherwise.

How he had known she was having the dream again? How had he known about the dream at all? And yet he did, and she was glad that he came to her. ‘Sh! sh. It’s only a dream, Fiori,’ he whispered. ‘Only a dream.’ He’d brought her a glass of water from the bathroom and had returned with a soft white towel. While she drank as though she had just traversed the desert, he gently wiped the perspiration from her face and her shoulders. Then he took the glass away and moved the soft terrycloth knap in slow lazy circles down her back and her ribs as she slid into his arms, laying her head against his shoulder.

‘Do you want me to stay with you?’ he asked.

She only nodded, tightening her arms around his neck.

His black shirt was open and untucked and his nipples hardened as she slid her arms inside and up his back.

‘Do you want me to make love to you?’ He asked it as simply as a parent would ask a child if she would like a bedtime story. He asked it because he knew in a house where sex magic was practiced, healing came in the form of passion, and she nodded again because she knew that too. His cock was already hard, but then she had noticed that it often was. In those times when he allowed attention to be drawn to himself, in those times when he made his presence known he neither attempted to hide his erection nor did he attempt to flaunt it. It was the ease and the comfort with which he wore his own masculinity that made him seem like a much larger man than he really was. In spite of his chameleon nature, he was not shy by any means, and his stamina and his finesse made him a welcome edition to the beds of all of the Elemental witches and their consorts.

Impatient for the feel of him freed, she shoved at his trousers, the scrape of the zipper seeming unusually loud in the quiet room. He ran his hand down to aid her as she worried his cock free. He was neither large nor small. Even his cock was nothing unusual to draw attention to itself, and yet there was no one at Elemental Cottage who didn’t relish the thought of Ferris between their legs, of Ferris shifting and grinding as though his unassuming penis had a secret magic all its own once properly sheathed in an appreciative pussy or mouth or arsehole.

His breath caught with a grunt as she fisted the length of him and she could almost feel the ripples of lust rising up the vertebrae of his spine. For a second he wrapped his hand around hers and shifted his hips. Then he pulled her fingers free, kissing each one of them, running his tongue in ticklish strokes over the tips, making her hips rock against the mattress. ‘I’m going to taste you now. I can already smell how good you’ll be.’ With a wriggle of his arse and a shove with his feet he shed his trousers as he crawled down between her thighs, nudging her open with the smoothly shaven wedge of his jaw, clearing the way with nose and lips, teeth and tongue. The humidity of his breath blew across her clit, which rose up in anticipation.

‘There,’ he said, his fingers parting her as agilely and exactingly as if he were a pianist and she were his instrument. For an age he studied her, fingered her, arranged her as though there were only one way, the best way to approach her dark, heavy folds, and he would not partake until he knew exactly what would bring all of her focus, all of her energy, all of her arousal to the very centre of his attention. ‘And now --’ his words were little more than a rush of breath ‘--I’ll give you what you need.’ He took her with his whole mouth, hunched over her like a lion at his prey, the muscles of his shoulders bunched tight, dusted and gilded in moonlight. And she felt the bloom of her arousal like a bud swelling, bursting, opening. Then the bloom became an explosion rising up from someplace suspended above the base of her spine. He held her hips, held her steady with strength his body belied as she bucked against his mouth, as she convulsed, as the moon moved in and out amid the undulation of slate clouds.

In the hazy vision of heat he seemed larger than himself, much larger than himself as though his arousal, their arousal together had released something broader of shoulder, deeper of chest, darker of memory and, as the moon disappeared, the power of him rose like a shadow thick and all-consuming and, somehow, other than himself. The hair on the back of her neck rose. Gooseflesh prickled over her breasts, even as she rocked out her orgasm against his mouth.

But before the tingle of uncertainty and the edge of fear could take hold, the moon reappeared and unassuming Ferris gave her clit on last hard tug with his lips and then rose over her, positioning himself, easing her open with his knees and his hips.

‘I need you in me,’ she said, her voice nearly lost in her struggle for oxygen.

‘A need which I share,’ came his urgent reply. It took no more than the tucking of his hips and a single thrust and he was in deep. She was slick and ready for him, gripping him as though she hadn’t just come, as though she were desperate for him to take her. With arms much stronger than they looked, he lifted her legs around his hips and positioned himself so that with each thrust he raked her clit, and she could almost swear that in the stark relief of moonlight and shadow his eyes were onyx black and yet bright, so bright. Even in the glow of a nearly full moon, he rode her in the light of an after image that made no sense, and she was reminded that not even Ferris understood his own magic. The closer they both came to orgasm the larger and heavier the after image grew. And the larger the after image, the harder they strained for release. When orgasm broke over them, so did the shadow, consuming them for the briefest of moments and then receding behind their own efforts to recover themselves taking with it Fiori’s urge to speak of it, to question it.

About K D Grace/Grace Marshall
Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?
When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading, watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.
K D has erotica published with SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Erotic Review, Ravenous Romance, Sweetmeats Press and others.
K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, Fulfilling the Contract, The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available.
K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis, The Exhibition are all available.

Find K D Here:                      

Websites: http://kdgrace.co.uk/          

                http://gracemarshallromance.co.uk/

                http://www.thebritbabes.co.uk      

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/KDGraceAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KD_Grace         

                         http://twitter.com/GM_Romance

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/kdgraceauthor/

Tour:  http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/k-d-grace-6/

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