Thursday, January 31, 2013

Football Funnies of the Week!

Courtesy of:

It's that time... football quotes of the week! Just a few more days and it's SUPER BOWL time! Did you get the dip? Chips? Burgers? Wings? How about the stupid things announcers say? I've got those! Enjoy!

“...puts a foot on it...”
Hmm... must be a new fetish...

“...blitz comingburied it deep in the wrong hands...”
Maybe because burying it somehwhere else is more satisfying? Just a thought.

“...Rodgers getting some of the load...”
See! The orgy got play by play!

“...For Ryan to respond that way and go all the way...priceless...”
More play by play! Needs pictures...

“ safety buzzing underneath...”
Better than on top maybe? 

“...trying to put that ball out but he wouldn’t let him...”
Put the ball out where? Hmm. Now I'm intrigued.

Well, those are the quotes. Take them how you'd like. Next week is the Super Bowl edition! Stay tuned!

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Breathless Press Book Blurb Biltz

 Follow the tour and comment; the more they comment, the better their chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: What's up for grabs to win?  Breathless Press will be awarding a $20 Breathless Press GC to one randomly drawn commenter during the tour, and a $10 Breathless Press GC to a randomly drawn host from the tour. So go forth, add to your TBR list, and comment! :-)

About Breathless Press:

Breathless Press is an e-book publisher specializing in Romance and Erotic(a) stories.

Our mission statement is simple: To provide the opportunity for readers to connect with romance authors through the purchasing of quality e-books at a low price.

Starting in the summer of 2009, Breathless Press came into existence. Since then, we have been producing top end romance and erotic stories for valued readers to enjoy.

Our Goal?

Breathless Press is an electronic publisher of paranormal, erotic, and mainstream romance, releasing one to three e-books a week in a variety of downloadable formats. It is Breathless Press' mission to provide readers with quality romance books in electronic formats and to raise the standard in e-publishing.


The Captain's Christmas by Leona Bushman

While on a rescue mission, Faraway must save her ship from pirates before they destroy her Christmas.

Captain Faraway Hastings sets off on what she thinks is a regular rescue mission, even if it did have the bad timing to be on Christmas. Disparate reports from the medical officer and captain of the downed ship cause her to look more closely at the situation.

Ethan Roarke, lieutenant commander and chief medical officer, is frustrated with the time it's taking for help to come. When he learns that his captain has neglected to inform their rescuers of the dire straits his people are in, he's angry and concerned. But worse, his loyalties are now torn between his captain who lied and the one trying to save them.

When Fara and Ethan meet, the attraction is immediate and strong despite the circumstances. Can Fara and Ethan discover the pirates hidden amongst them before they kill everyone on the ship? Or are they doomed to miss out on their chance of a Merry Christmas?


"I assure you, my people can count. And the tally with the last group waiting below is," she pushed some buttons on her wrist unit. "Seven hundred twenty eight men, women, and children. Would you like the breakdown?"

"I'm telling you. I have a complete list of our manifest here, and there are less than six hundred people, sir."

They stared at each other. "Well," she said after a beat of silence. "It seems we have ourselves some stowaways. Possibly—likely—dangerous ones."

"The other ship. I didn't think about it, but there were two main directions that the largest groups came from. That means," he stopped and looked to see if she'd had the same thought.

"That means, Lieutenant Commander Medical Officer Ethan Roarke, that as I'd suspected before landing my first shuttle there, the enemy is amongst us."

"Why would they do that? Why would my captain not tell me or you?"

"You know him better than I, but my take is he's trying to protect us. That, in his opinion, telling us would put us in more danger than not knowing. I happen to disagree. Knowledge is power in my experience."

"And mine," he replied. "It's not like him to withhold this type of information from me. He'd normally want me to be apprised so I can adequately prepare my medical team for the right kind of injuries. Have you asked the first officer?"

"No. I will do so once everyone's on board."

"He's in sickbay from injuries during the walk."

"Thank you for the information. In the meantime, keep your eyes and ears open. It goes without saying that I don't like having an enemy on my ship."

"Any more than I like that my captain may be responsible for allowing it to happen." Somehow, during the last part of their conversation, their voices had become quieter, as if they were afraid of being overheard. He'd placed himself so they were practically touching by the last word. When she said ship, a puff of air had landed on his lips. Their closeness made the tone of his response sound intimate as he dropped his volume in reaction to her closeness.

"I don't like hotheaded medics," she whispered.

"And I don't like pushy, bossy captains," he replied just as softly.

"Then you're going to hate me," she said and kissed him.


A Christmas Match Made In Heaven by Brianna Lorin

A Christmas Match Made in Heaven is a tale that unites two lonely souls while reuniting two departed ones just in time for the holidays.

On the day after Thanksgiving, Carroll Moore is presented with three items that once belonged to her beloved, now deceased Aunt Maggie — a woman's ring, a diamond pendent, and a man's college ring. The accompanying letter reveals the items' history, and while the woman's ring and diamond pendant are Carroll's to keep, she is asked to return the man's college ring to a very special young man. What follows is a romantic tale that unites two lonely souls while reuniting two departed ones just in time for the holidays.


With candles lit, lights off, and bath salts sprinkled, I sank into the dreamy warm water, relaxing every inch and crevice of my body. There was a workload from hell awaiting me at the office. The next few weeks would be crazy with one closing after another with sellers wanting to move south, out of the cold, snowy mountains, and buyers wanting to make money on their new establishments. All of this had to be done, of course, before winter arrived or in time for ski season and Valentines' Day.

While drifting into that half-asleep, half-awake mode of twilight, completely relaxed in the warmth of the tub, I began to hear a woman sobbing. At first her sobs were soft, and between sobs, she was speaking in a faint voice.

"Please don't leave me. Hang on. Please don't leave me."

I began to feel the ache in my chest again; it was dull and throbbing, and as the sobs grew louder, the pain grew stronger.

"Help me," she whimpered.

I became immobilized and started shivering. The bathroom was filled with a chill, and the flames on the candles went out. I looked around the bathroom, only seeing shadows of the trees outside blowing in the wind. The street light was thankfully shining through the window. It was then that I felt Aunt Maggie; her voice was low and barely audible. "You have to help me get back to Ron, Carroll. He's waiting for me somewhere. I can't find him in this black abyss, this very strange quagmire I'm trapped in."

"Where are you?" I asked.

"Somewhere between here and there."

"I don't understand what you want me to do?" I asked, looking around in the darkness, searching for a hint of her. My teeth were chattering.

"He proposed on Christmas Eve, thirty-five years ago. The ring was hidden inside one of those small jewelry box ornaments on his family's tree. Ron gave it to me after I opened all the other presents he had for me. He so loved to spoil me.

"When he handed me the box, he got down on one knee. I covered my face and cried. I loved him so much, Carroll, and couldn't wait to be his wife. Later that night, when we were lying in each other's arms, he told me about the other present he had for me. We were to spend New Year's Eve at the Statler Hilton in Manhattan. Don't think poorly of me, Carroll."

"Why would I, my god, Aunt Maggie, you loved the man and you were going to marry him. Do you honestly think Mike and I waited 'til our honeymoon?" There he was again, my ex, creeping into my memory in one form or another, and why the hell was I talking to what, a ghost?

Baby, You're Cold Inside by Ivy Bateman

Lily Sinclair isn't in the Christmas spirit.

Successful, sexy and headstrong; being nice is too overrated when being naughty is so much more fun. However, there are those who believe that her cool interior stands in her way of true happiness. On the night when something a little bit colder than Lily takes her on a journey to her past, she goes along for the ride, but...

Will her guide show her just what it will take to melt her icy soul?


"Why'd you bring me here?" I gesture to the circle of trees.

"So you assume that I arranged this?"

"Well, I don't see any other magic, frost people around," I say, trying to keep my sarcastic tone in check.

"Well, was me, but why aren't you more shocked? A lot of people freak out when this kind of thing happens to them! I thought for sure that even you would be impressed to be taken back to a point in your past. But no, you're just as full of attitude watching your past as you are in the present! The guys and I really thought we'd be able to break your hostile exterior." He genuinely seems hurt, but it doesn't faze me.

"The guys? What guys?" I put my hands on my hips and face him.

"Yes, the guys, well and some girls, my co-workers, we who work for St. Jude."

"St. Jude."

"Yes," he says, his voice filled with pride

"The saint for hopeless cases?"


Our banter is interrupted by a loud groan. We look over at Cory the rutting wonder and past Lily. I can tell Phillip assumes the noise came fromCory, but I remember it was me, expressing my sour mood. This guy had one move; put it in, pull it out and repeat. It got old fast.

I shake my head and look back at Phillip. "They can't see us, right?"

"No, they can't see us, or hear us, or anything like that. So getting back to St. Jude..."

"Yes, work for the saint of hopeless causes, Phillip. I got that. So why are you here? Oh wait!" I put my hand up to stop him from talking. "You and the guys think I am a hopeless case or cause or whatever! That's a riot! Are you here to help me?"

Frozen Phillip momentarily transitions into assistant Phillip. He looks down at his feet and scrunches his face. He appears embarrassed. I laugh loudly.

"You are! That's insane! I don't need any help!"

"Well, Lily, we disagree," he starts speaking very slowly, as if he was talking to a child. "We've been watching you for quite a few years. Your attitude toward your fellow man has been a kilter for more than a little while and we think it's time to intervene. Most people who are not very nice eventually have an epiphany, a sort of a wakeup call and change their ways, but not you. You seem to thrive on making people miserable, but in the end it's not going to help you." Phillip stops and looks into my eyes. He's probably trying to see if this is moving me at all. I stare blankly back at him, crossing my arms under my breasts.

"And?" I snap at him.

Phillip swallows before he continues. "And every Christmas season, because at this time of the year people are often at their kindest, we are all given a 'hopeless case,' a person to turn around. This year I was given you as my project. I've been sent by the powers that be to help you find your kinder side. We think that somewhere under your cold exterior lies a warm heart, a gentler person and we'd like to bring that out in you."

I howl with laughter. "Wow, Phillip, do I feel sorry for you! How'd you get stuck with me? Did you draw the short straw?" I'm laughing so hard I'm in tears, but I stop soon after. The snow suit is too tight for a lot of mirth.

"Lily, I'm quite serious."

"Oh I believe you, my dear. Don't worry. The icy get up, the trip to the past, it's all very dramatic, but come on,Phillip! Why on earth do you and your guys care about one bitchy woman? Besides, I don't think I'm a hopeless case. I think I'm fabulous. You're wasting your time. Aren't there people who have seriously hopeless cases that you could be working on?"

He smiles brightly. "See right there! The fact that you can think of people other than yourself, that you can imagine there are suffering people who need help shows that you have a bit of warmth in your soul."

I scoff at him. "No it doesn't. Phillip, I think most people are hopeless. If you helped people based on what I think, you'd never stop working. The only person I care about is me."I pat his frozen cheek and walk over to watch the action in the center of the trees.


Christmas Is Cancelled by Aurelia B Rowl

Could Tilly's day get any worse? Even Christmas had been cancelled! Will Dean succumb to temptation as he endeavors to make Christmas better for both of them?

Matilda 'Tilly' Carter didn't think her day could get any worse, but even Christmas had just been cancelled.

The one girl Dean Watson has sworn never to have—never even expected to see again—just flared back into his life and into his home—his sanctuary—like she belonged there. Christmas would certainly be more bearable with Tilly around though...

As the chinks in Dean's armor appear, Tilly seizes the chance to win her knight once and for all. She's not about to take no for answer—not this time—but Dean must resist, even as his heart rebels and temptation threatens to undermine his resolve.

Win or lose? Love or honor? Which will Dean choose? Assuming he gets a choice...


Tears welled in her eyes, clouding her vision. She turned and wandered blindly toward the exit as the first tear escaped, forging a track down her cheek for the rest to follow. Tilly took in a lungful of air and then another. Having made a spectacle of herself once already, she really didn't want to be the cause of yet another scene.

The crowds swarmed around her, with students and family members heading home for the holidays only adding to the usual rush-hour melee of commuters. They jostled past, threatening to swallow her whole, as they rushed en mass in the opposite direction, using their briefcases and suitcases as a battering ram.

It was suffocating. She had to get out of there. Breaking into a run, broken heel or not, she raced through the doors and out into the biting December chill. Her waterlogged eyes struggled to adjust to the dark, dreary sky after the bright station lights, but she didn't dare slow down, desperate to escape the throng of festivities and merriment.

Carol singers assembled outside burst into a jovial rendition of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," full of joy and happiness. Didn't they know Christmas had just been cancelled?

"Ooof!" Tilly smacked her shin against the edge of a low bench, too dark to see as she tried to dodge the growing audience. She ended up sprawled across the bench, dropping the handle of her suitcase with a loud clatter.

At least the pain shooting down her leg gave her an excuse to be crying. Unfortunately, it meant she had to stop running too. Not good. Whenever things got too tough, too intimate, or too confrontational, you could rely on her to make a run for it. Running away was what she did best...

A tall figure loomed in the edge of her vision, something vaguely familiar about the man's loping gait. In an effort to see him more clearly, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, then cringed inwardly at the black streaks now etched all over them. Great. She could add impersonating a panda to her day from hell as well then.

The mascara stung her eyes, rendering her unable to focus properly. She blinked furiously as the man strode past her, talking into a mobile phone in a deep voice that resonated throughout her body and made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. A surge of adrenaline rushed to her legs, numbing the pain as her subconscious told her to run. Now!

The cloaked figure stopped mid-stride as if he'd heard her gasp. "Mike, I've gotta go," he barked into the phone, hanging up instantly. He backtracked until he was standing right in front of her, his tone changing from a growl to one of surprise. "Basmati?"

Great. She hadn't heard the nickname for years—nine years, four months and...sixteen days, to be exact—and even then, only one person had ever actually used it. She screwed her eyes tightly shut, shaking her head from side to side. No. No way. There was absolutely no way this could be happening to her. Not now. Not today of all days... Talk about kicking a girl when she was down.

"Is it really you?" he asked.

Maybe she should pretend it wasn't her? Mistaken identity and all that? She looked quite different now; she might be able to pull it off and get away from him. Even as she tried to convince herself to do it, a little voice inside told her it was futile to resist. It pained her to agree. It would kill her not to speak to him, to not look at him and see the man he had become. She'd only drive herself mad trying to work out why he was so far from home.

Nine years was a long time. Maybe he'd have forgotten all about how she'd thrown herself at him, her brother's best friend, humiliating herself to the extent that she'd fled her hometown? Yeah, and maybe pigs had suddenly learned to fly too.

"Hi, Dean," she mumbled, staring down at his feet like the timid and shy teenager she'd once been whenever he'd been around. But she wasn't that person anymore. Oh no, she was quite possibly even worse now. Slowly, she lifted her gaze, delaying the moment when their eyes would meet. "Long time no—"

Her jaw actually dropped. It gaped open, betraying her reaction. Smart brogue business shoes—well-polished—gave way to an expensive-looking gray pinstripe suit—Armani, if she wasn't mistaken. He'd teamed it with a crisp white shirt and a deep red silk tie—the color of blood—tied in a fancy Windsor knot, and then he'd completed the ensemble with a dark woolen overcoat. Left undone, it only served to highlight his spectacular physique.

Butterflies took flight in her belly, fluttering wildly. Where were the scruffy jeans and baggy T-shirts? She committed every inch of this new Dean to memory, but she couldn't bring herself to look beyond the shirt collar and tie. It was sure to be her undoing. She was practically salivating already. He must be able to hear her heart pounding ferociously against her rib cage.

She'd always had a thing for men in suits, and she'd always had a thing for Dean; putting the two together was sure to be a winning—or maybe that should be losing—combination.

"It is you. I knew it. Fancy seeing you here." He sat down beside her, his tone friendly, and he sounded pleased to see her. If only she could deny feeling the same. "Are you all set for Christmas then?"

Ripped from her daydream, the one where Dean had tracked her down, declared his undying love to her, and then whisked her away to a country manor, the events of the day came crashing back down on her. The shock and her excitement at seeing him drained out of her, seeping out of her shoes into the concrete slabs, as cold and harsh as the reality she faced.

"No, not yet. Speaking of which, I must dash," she said, ignoring the pain lancing through her leg as she stood. She did her best to saunter off without looking like she was running away but failed spectacularly.

"Hey, are you okay?" Damn it, he must have spotted her limp. He caught up with her in a matter of strides, the crowds parting for him, whereas she was trying to swim against the tide.

"I'm fine, thanks." Tilly sounded sullen and brattish even to her own ears.

"You could have fooled me." He spun her around to inspect her. She didn't want to think about how bad she looked.

"I said I'm fine." Stunned by her body's reaction to his slight touch, she staggered back a step. "I also said I have to go."

"What happened to your shoe?"

She could easily picture the way his brows would be knotted together, frowning down at her, but she didn't want his concern. What she wanted was for him to leave her alone. Didn't she? It was pitiful how much she was torn between pushing him away to make a run for it or wrapping her arms around him and clinging on like a frightened child.

"It doesn't matter, just forget it."

He either missed the hint and the dangerous edge to her voice or he chose to ignore it. "It does matter, and I can't just forget it. Are you injured?"

Now she really glared at him. "For Pete's sake! I said I'm fine. Just let it go." Big mistake! She'd been right to avoid looking above the shirt collar, and the poor light did nothing to hide the transformation he'd gone through. She couldn't hold the glare; she'd already seen too much. Heat was building in her core and merging with the fire that had erupted inside her at his touch.

"No." A hint of menace crept into his voice. It couldn't possibly be protective; he had no reason to be protective of her. Well, he'd been warned—

Deck Mac Hall by Raven McAllan

For ten years Mac had trained to understand the sort of Dom he is. Now he must explain himself to Holly and hope it's what she wants.

Holly has lusted after Mac for years, so when he suddenly announces this Christmas is the right time, she is determined to see it through.

Mac is a man of extreme tastes, and he's not all sure that Holly can be the sub he needs. He has prepared for this time for years.

Will all this preparation bear fruit, or is little Holly going to run away screaming? There's only one way to find out.

Damn Mac. All she wanted was a quiet life, not a clit-quivering tingle every time he came within five yards of her. On cue, her body responded to his presence, and her thong dampened.

"Your eyes are saying take me, I'm yours," a deep male voice whispered in her ear. "Have you decided yet? I told you, Holly. It has to be your decision, not mine. If you say yes, we'll set the rules. Not until then. If you say no? Ah well, only I'll know what you've turned down." His kiss on the nape of her neck sent a totally different sort of shiver through her. If his look dampened her thong, his kiss had soaked it.

"Well?" he asked. His voice was patient, his tone as conversational as if they were talking about the weather, not their future. "Holly, you've had time. We decided on Christmas Eve. That's tonight." He stamped his feet in the snow. The air was frosty, and his breath created white misty swirls around his lips.

"You said midnight," Holly reminded him. "And if we're being precise, I've had ten years. Now I have half an hour yet."

The nip on her neck made her jump.

"So I did. And?"

"So you can wait. I'll meet you in the Cock and Bull then."

He spun her around to face him, eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't be thinking of reneging, would you? I'll be mighty pissed if you are." He put his arm around her, and his hand caressed her ass through the heavy coat she was wearing. Even through all the layers, the heat of his touch seared her skin.

Bloody prick. Argh, and if he moves that finger any harder, it'll be in my asshole.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Ten Line Tuesday!

Ten quick lines from a a newly contracted story! It's called Private Hideaway and features the characters from Love of My Life. I hope you enjoy!!

“Fuck, this won’t be long.” Torin climbed between her thighs, then tapped his erection on her clit. The move turned her insides to jelly and electrical sparks fizzled in her veins. She hooked her legs around his waist and eased him into her pussy.

“Yeah, babe. Like that. Tight and so fucking wet.” Torin gripped her hips, pushing himself inside her to the hilt. He moved within her, massaging her pussy with every inch of his cock. “Fuck.”

His voice echoed in the cabin. A lock of his hair slipped over his brow. Torin’s brows knotted and his eyelids drooped. His smooth thrusts turned frantic and his balls slapped her ass. He shoved one hand up under her tank top and palmed her breast. Her nipple pebbled under his touch. She squeezed her cunt around his dick, holding him inside her. Her heart pounded and she gasped for breath.

Monday, January 28, 2013

Monday Moans with Until the Night!

arekmalang / 123RF Stock Photo

This one comes out next week and I can't be more excited! Until the Night was so much to write. So hot, too! My first MMFM and with vampires!!! So enjoy this tasty Monday Moan!!

“You’re paler than normal.” Kendall put both hands up. “I know. Vampires are pale. But this isn’t like you.” He curled his fingers under her chin. “What can I do?”

Her heart hammered. What could he do? Get naked and take her on the couch, then offer his neck, that’s what he could do. Help her slake her need for sustenance and sex then confess he liked her for more than a friend.

Like that would happen. He had a girlfriend, last time she’d checked.

“Just tired.”

“I see that. When did you sleep last?”

“I haven’t.”

“Or fed, either.”

“It’s been a while.”

“Then I’ve got just what you need—a hot and hunky male to share your bed.” His eyebrows bobbed. “Like someone tall, blond and handsome who has lots of blood he’s willing to part with in the name of rescue?”

She laughed despite her tears. “Don’t tell me you’re applying. That’s one of the most horrible come-on lines I’ve heard.”

Kendall cupped her jaw in both hands. Hunger shone amongst the green and blue flecks in his eyes. He worked the muscle in his jaw and the light caught the subtle colour changes of brown and gold in the scruff on his cheeks. She gulped to catch the breath she didn’t need. No heartbeat anymore meant that oxygen didn’t help her body like it had when she’d been alive.

God, she wanted to be amongst the living and for things to be normal again.

“Would you rather I be blunt?” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I want you. I don’t care if you’re a vampire or if you have those two guys who hang out over here. You infiltrate my thoughts and make me think about you when you’re not in the same room.”


Friday, January 25, 2013

Five Sentence Friday!

tradigi / 123RF Stock Photo

It's time for the fast, the fun, the Five Sentence Friday post!! Here's five lines from My Immortal

Time to kick it up a notch. “I’ll tell you while we wait. Or do I have to spank you to get you to behave?”

A smooth eyebrow curved while she bit her lip, as if pondering his words. He refused to give her much choice in the matter.


Thursday, January 24, 2013

Football Quotes of the Week

Courtesy of:

Here they are, the football quotes of the week. Love getting these. Not too many weeks left, so I've been extra vigilant to capture them. Enjoy!

“...Harris is tough to bring down...”
I'd bet. He's a big guy!

“...they like what they have in him...”
Now inquiring minds want to know WHAT it is they have in him. 

“...looking for big things on the field...”
What kinds of big things?

“...Petersen stood up by Brad Jones...”
Aw. Now that's not very nice. He should've at least apologized. 

“...Gronkowski on the receiving end of it...”
OOh! Can we see it?

“...It’s a matter of Rodgers putting it where Nelson can get it...”
Sounds like some white hot fun play. And yes, I want to see it.

Well, those are the quotes. Two more weeks and we're done. Super Bowl time. Oh and NASCAR time!!!

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Turn Me On for Valentine’s Day

Thanks so much for having me on the blog today, Wendi!

Valentine’s Day has been a tricky day for me for a very long time. My luck, on the holiday of hearts, generally sucks. I noticed, in the years since joining facebook, I’m not alone. Hence the birth of my new ff erotic romance from MuseItUp Publishing, Turn Me On. Kay gets slammed with a lot of very unlucky, sucktastic things on the Valentine’s Day in this story. But one thing is for sure—she can either hold on to her bitterness, which is poor company in the night, or she can take another chance at love.

I hope you enjoy Kay and Cammie’s love story as much as I did. I wish I could write everyone who
has a less than stellar Valentine’s Day a happy ending just like I did for them!


Valentine’s Day sucks.

When Kay gets a call to meet a former lover for Valentine’s Day, she learns that not only is the ex getting married but she expects Kay to take part in the blessed event.

Kay doesn’t want chocolates.

The sexy sister of the groom-to-be is determined to help Kay get over the bride.

Turn Me On…

Will Cammie help Kay learn that passion is better when it isn’t hidden? Or will Kay give up
the one woman who can bring her body—and her broken heart—back to life?

About the Author: Virginia Nelson spends her days chasing three very active kids around. When she is not doing this, or plotting taking over the world, she likes to write, play in the mud, drive far too fast and scream at inanimate objects. She can often be found listening to music that is far too loud and typing her next fantastic tale of blood, sex and random acts of ineptitude. Romance, in Ms. Nelson’s opinion, is not about riding off into the sunset on the back of a horse with the knight in shining armor— it is about riding the dragon. If the knight can keep up… well, that is love. Find me online

Grab your copy of Turn Me On today!

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Ten Lines from Love of My Life!

Today I thought I'd share a snippet, ten lines, from Love of My Life, from the Smut in the City anthology. Grin. Love this story. Hopefully, you do, too.

“Let me take your mind off your problem.” He turned her around and held her in his arms, albeit loosely. Torin began to sway and sing. “I’ve never found a woman like the love of my life.”

She sagged against him and clutched his shirt. She figured he’d try to get into her pants. Zoe rubbed her cheek on his shoulder. She settled into the rhythm of his movements, transfixed by him.

“You broke my heart, so I gave you your freedom,” he sang. “My mistake to live with for so long. How can I say I was wrong?”

Zoe processed his words. She’d heard the song a thousand times on the radio, but never with the passion and pain in his voice. Tears shimmered in her eyes. She shouldn’t melt into him. Shouldn’t want him so much.

Where to purchase Smut in the City?, http:/ / ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B0096DIBW6&linkCode=as2&ta g=sexy00-21, ie=UTF8&camp=1634&creative=19450&creativeASIN=B0096DIBW6&linkCode=as2&tag =sexy00-21

All Romance Ebooks, 144.html?referrer=9d8e54f3ce71ca2554b388837ebb07e6

Monday, January 21, 2013


Thanks so much to Wendi for allowing me to be a guest on her blog.   

I lived in London for many years, loving both the city’s vitality and energy, as well as its ability to be calm and peaceful, in parks and gardens and of course roof top terraces.  For Smut in the City I loved the idea of a successful woman running her own company in the middle of Soho, who needs a peaceful retreat amidst the hubbub of daily life.  I also loved the idea of a wildly desirable gardener turning her neat and well-managed life upside down.  Neither is quite who the other thinks they are, and the more they find out, the more they warm to each other after a less than promising start.  I like to think they might make it as a couple, but then, I’ve always been wildly optimistic!

Excerpt from Her Secret Garden by Viva Jones:

           As promised, Fox’s quote arrived at five o’clock, and it was comprehensive and professional, without the split infinitives and misplaced apostrophes that she was always compelled to correct.  Would she give him another chance?  
            Of course she would, Ashley realised in that second; her desires were stronger than she was.  She couldn’t imagine letting someone like Fox out of her life so easily.  She called him.
            ‘I’ve decided to forgive you for your earlier impertinence,’ she said. 
            ‘Good,’ he replied simply.  ‘I’ll start on Monday.’
            Monday seemed an eternity away.   ‘Can’t we discuss it over the weekend?’ she asked.  ‘Exactly which types of pot and which plant, and where they might go?’
            ‘I have three kids and a dog.  I don’t do weekends.’
            Ashley felt flattened.  Of course he was married.  And he was probably one of those men who was relentlessly faithful to his wife, which naturally made him all the more desirable.  ‘I understand.  Monday it is.’
The weekend stretched like a rambling rose, climbing languidly up a brick wall, and Ashley found herself browsing through gardening magazines and websites, suddenly passionate about potting and planting, topiary and pruning.  She pored over Fox’s company website, looking for clues about his private life, but it was deceptively vague, referring only to his having given up a financial career in the City to take up horticultural studies, and the business he’d run for the last ten years. 
            Monday brought a fine spring morning, and Ashley wore a floral silk skirt, a plain white T-shirt and a lacy cardigan, with her favourite high heels.  As Fox strode in through the office, she took a deep breath – not only at the sight of him, but at the trail of mud he left on her carpet.  It would clean, she told herself.  She’d get someone on to it.
‘How are you this fine morning?’ he asked with that smile that could wilt the sturdiest of roses.
            ‘Good, thank you, and you?’ she asked with uncharacteristic nervousness as she led him up the stairs. 
            ‘I’ll be needing to shift pots, plants and earth today,’ he told her once they’d reached the roof.  ‘Don’t worry,’ he added quickly, as if reading her mind. ‘I’ll lay down protective covering, there won’t be any mess.’  She was grateful for his sensitivity, until he added with a grin,  ‘I can tell how precious your carpet is to you.  You probably spent ages agonising over the exact shade, didn’t you?’
            Ashley flushed because of course she had, but wasn’t about to admit it.  All morning, as she tried to concentrate on her producers’ monthly budget reports, Ashley watched Fox coming and going, carrying pots, plants and large bags of earth through the office to the roof.  With every trip he seemed to shed a layer – first the jacket and hat went, then the loose checked shirt.  On his next trip the T-shirt had been pulled out from the waist of his khaki trousers, revealing tanned, muscular arms and a tantalising glimpse of hair on his taut stomach.
By lunch time she couldn’t stand it any longer and climbed up the staircase to find him sitting on an upturned pot, eating a sandwich.  He moved aside and indicated that she joined him, and as she sat down, fearing the worst for her skirt, she got a whiff of masculinity that made her instantly aroused.  It wasn’t a smell that said I’m stinky and need a shower, but one that said, I’m masculine and earthy and physical, and I work hard.  It was a smell Ashley could have inhaled all day if he’d only let her.


Viva Jones is the London-born author of several erotic short stories which aim to combine sex and sensuality with a dash of humour.  Her stories have appeared in several of Xcite Books’ print and e-anthologies, and she has recently become an author for Mischief Books, featuring in the upcoming collection Brief Encounters.  She was a winner of sex toy company Lovehoney’s 2012 erotic writing competition, with her story appearing in the anthology Take Your Partner.  Her first full-length erotic novel, The Summer of Aphrodite, will be published by House of Erotica later this year.  When not writing she loves cooking and gardening, and is really rather respectable.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Celebrating Smut in the City Week with a Smutty Sunday Snog!

Since I've been celebrating Smut in the City week all week, I thought I'd share my Sunday Snog from my short in the Smut in the City anthology! Mine's called Love of My Life. Want a copy of Smut? Get yours at Amazon or ARe. And keep watching, I've got more smut coming up this week with Viva Jones and a little bit about my story, too!!

Now here's my snog!!

“I’m untying you and removing the blindfold, but you’re still in my command.” She turned him around and worked the knot on the silk. “Mine.”

Torin stood still while she removed the blindfold. He blinked. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “I do belong to you.”

“Help me out of these pesky clothes.”

Torin eased the hem of her shirt up over her head. “May I kiss you?”

“I hope so.” She stared up into his eyes. “I want you to.”

Giving in to his request meant she’d given up more control, but she didn’t care. She preferred to have him run the show. Torin wrapped one arm around her shoulders and the other hand popped the button on her jeans. He licked the seam of her mouth. She opened to him and sucked on his tongue.

Torin broke the kiss first. “Fuck. I can’t wait.” He hooked his fingers into the belt loops of her jeans and tugged both the denim and her panties to the floor. He freed one of her legs from the pants, then placed her on the bed. “Mine.”

“Am I?” She braced herself for his response. “You’ve said it a lot, but I can’t make love to you if you’re not giving me everything. Do you love me?”

Friday, January 18, 2013

Sight in the City with Tabitha Rayne

Thanks so much for having me to talk about Smut In The City, Wendi – I have to say, I love this anthology and have been having a wonderful time immersing myself in the other authors’ erotic city adventures.

My own story, The Conjuror is about a woman who is losing her sight but trying not to lose her identity or have her new disability be the thing that now defines her. She takes a night time trip to a bar where she finds a gentleman who shows her how to find sensual pleasure in her new condition.

The phrase ‘life mimicking art’ popped to mind a few weeks ago. I had the oddest thing happen while I was in the city shopping and my vision became blurred and pixelated – it was migraine related, so I was familiar with the sensation – but for a whole afternoon, I wandered around shops and streets feeling disorientated and being unable to see properly. Since I had written a story about loss of vision, I decided to embrace the experience and put myself in my character’s shoes, if only for a few hours.

I explored the city with all of my senses alert, feeling like I was using my whole body to navigate my way through the shops, cafes and traffic. It was very intense.

Sadly for me though, a handsome stranger did not whisk me off to his artist’s studio and show me how to feel colours...

I’m chuffed to bits to be part of this sexy anthology and hope you’ll give it a try!

Here’s a little excerpt from The Conjuror
 “I’ll have a vodka martini, please,” I purr with my best temptress tone and snap open my red evening bag to get my purse. There, see? Just a normal woman out and about.
I sip my drink as slowly as I can, which as it turns out is not slowly at all and suck on ice and thin air tuning in to snippets of conversation going on around me until I think enough time has passed to order another without appearing like a lush.
The barman hands me the drink and I slurp it down in one go. Have the guidelines on measures changed? I’m sure a libation in a tall glass used to last longer than this. I’m nervous. I always drink quickly when I’m nervous – then when I’m not nervous anymore, I’m totally plastered. I will take a lemonade next time; I don’t want to be reckless.
“Waiting for someone?” A low silky voice slides into my ear and nestles there as I keep my gaze ahead but see a tall, suited man sit on the stool next to me.
I consider lying. Then don’t. “Actually, no. I’m just out for a drink, enjoying the evening.” I turn and smile at him hoping my eyes are meeting his when all I can see is dark blurry space where his features should be.
“Care for some company?” he asks and my heart rate slows a little – I must have got away with it.
“Why yes,” I say, feeling the two shots of vodka beginning to work their magic, “I would.”
He pulls his stool closer to mine and motions to the barman. “Two of whatever the lady’s drinking.” I smile and pretend to watch the barman while I take in the stranger from the side of my eye. He is most certainly what I would call hot. I blush as his warm hand brushes mine when he passes my glass. I feel him looking me up and down, studying me, working me out. “What’s your name?”
“Carla,” I say using my middle name as I always do. I was named Elsie after my grandmother and while I love my granny, I’ve never felt the name suited me much – especially while trying to pick up sophisticated suited gentleman in a wine bar. “Yours?”
“Mmm, that’s unusual,” I say, feeling more and more relaxed in his company. We fall into easy conversation.
“I am an artist at heart,” he says and my ears prick. How suave!
“What kind?” I ask crossing my fingers hoping he is a painter.
“I paint women.” Jackpot! I’ve always fancied myself as a muse. I lift my ribcage and check my posture hoping he might consider me for that very role. “Nude women.” Heat prickles up my neck and flushes my cheeks. I’m no prude but the way he says it draws a certain excitement from me. I sense my nipples have become visible through my sheer dress. I make no attempt to hide the fact and actually reach seductively for my drink so that my upper body twists slightly towards him.
“What part?” I purr...

Tabitha Rayne has been told she is quirky, lovely and kinky – not necessarily in that order or by the same person. She writes erotic romance and as long as there’s a love scene – she’ll explore any genre.
Her short stories, published and upcoming, are included in anthologies from Xcite, Oysters & Chocolate, Cleiss, Ravenous Romance, Mischief, and House of Erotica. She has two stand alone titles from Beachwalk Press.
Her new novel, A Clockwork Butterfly is out now.

Thursday, January 17, 2013

Why Manchester? with Victoria Blisse

When I was thinking of a story to submit for Smut in the City I knew I would write about Manchester.
It’s my home city, I’ve lived within easy reach of it for the great majority of my life and it’s probably
the urban area I know the best.

The problem then became where in the city to focus on. I did wonder about having my characters
get up to naughty things at Old Trafford, the home of the Mighty Manchester United, the best
football team in the world (yes, I am biased) but then I got bogged down in the practicalities of that.

So I went for a mental tour of Manchester and tried to find the perfect setting. I wanted somewhere
recognisable, a little unusual and very Mancunian. I finally settled on a landmark I see every time
I visit Manchester, the water feature in Piccadilly Gardens. It just proves that nothing is safe from
this erotica writer’s dirty mind! Here’s a fountain based excerpt from my story, Mad Fer it in

We munch on in silence and watch the kids hurtling through the water.
“I don’t know how they do it,” I laugh, “that water must be freezing.”
“Oh,it looks fun to me.” Stuart grins, “and I’m so hot in this damn suit.”
“Yes you are,” I reply without thinking and his smile expands to cover his whole face.
I try to find some way of covering up my little slip. “So go on then, I dare you to stand on
there with the kiddies.”
“I bet you I can do it and not get wet.”
“How much?”
“Winner gets a kiss.”
Now that sounds like a win-win situation to me.
“You’re on!” I settle back in the grass. He jumps up, pulls off his jacket and drops
it to the floor beside me. It smells of him, spicy and fresh. I resist the urge to run the heavy
material against my cheek. I carry on watching him and yes, he’s doing it. He’s standing in
the middle of the fountain. It’s completely dry now but you know it’s going to spurt soon.
The little kids are laughing nervously, anticipating the cooling jets that will explode beneath
them at any minute. I hold my breath. Will he get wet?
“Ha, see!” He taunts as the water shoots up a metre or so away from him, “told, you.”
I’m just about to respond when a spout of water comes to my rescue and squirts up
directly beside him, showering him in ice cold water.
“You were saying?” I clap my hands in delight.
He just laughs and wipes his wet hair from his eyes. His white shirt is clinging to his
chest now and I can see the outline of his nipples and the dip of his bellybutton.
“Come on in, Lauren, the water is fine.”
“No, we need to go get you dry.” I look at my watch. “We’ve only got twenty
“Okay, bring me my jacket.”
I stand and walk towards the fountain. He’s perched on the edge and holds out his
hand. I pass him the jacket but he grabs hold of me and pulls me towards him. I follow him
with a yell, leaping up the step and onto the wet marble top.
“What are you doing?” I squeal, “I’ll get soaked.”
“That’s what I am hoping for.” He spins me round right into the path of one of the
jets. I scream as the ice cold water soaks through my skirt and my blouse and hits my heated
cheeks. It’s cold and all my senses jump alive from the shock.
“You little…” Just in time I realise we’re surrounded by kids so I refrain from calling
him a nasty name. He laughs, grabs me around the waist and pulls me to him.
“I like you wet,” He whispers.

If you want more you’ll need to pick up a copy of the awesome anthology
(yes, I’m a little biased) Smut in the City from, http:/

All Romance Ebooks,

and all good ebook retailers.

Victoria Blisse Bio:

Victoria Blisse is a mother, wife, Christian, Manchester United fan and award winning erotica author. She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, Smut by the Sea and Smut in the City.

She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories.Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.

Find out more at or follow and friend Victoria: