Prompt Fiction - "They Don't Know ..."
It's been a while since I've done a prompt, so I figured why not. Here we go ...

*Photo Source: Getty Images*
The gentle scrape of her fingernails running through his short hair and across his scalp was the only sound in the room. He liked these quiet moments the best because it was only then he felt truly understood. There were no cameras watching, no souls judging. Media wasn't requesting, fans weren't demanding. Here, with her, he was only a man.

Hers.

The weight of her wedding band pressing to his head as she held him felt soothing. A reminder of sorts. It was nothing too special or fancy, just a simple golden band. She already had so much because of him, there was no need to draw unnecessary attention to something that meant more to him and her than anyone else could ever possibly understand.

He wore no ring.

People liked to speculate. Bloggers would go crazy if he ever stepped out on the town alone. Heaven forbid she wasn't at one of his shows or many appearances. Why their life was so important to people they couldn't really affect beyond what they witnessed on television or social media, he couldn't begin to fathom. The public placed far too much attention on the lives of celebrities and not nearly enough on their own. Maybe if he gave them a bit more to see, they would back off. Frankly, he doubted it. Giving someone an inch usually meant they'd yank about a mile.

A mile too much.

It was the one thing he hated the most about his talent and stardom. Painstakingly, he'd taken special care to keep his private life as his own--his wife as only his. Between PR people, the assistants, and pre-interview preparations, his team managed to ensure the media understood not to question him beyond his current tour or whatever he was promoting.

They certainly knew not to ask about her, or how they met at his very first sold out show. Backed into a corner behind the curtain, terrified and shaking in his suit at the dull roar of a crowd waiting for a man who had once been the child progeny of classical music. Eighty-thousand fans was the largest he'd ever preformed for at the time. She found him there as she was doing a last minute check of the lights in the back. A beautiful smile, the touch of her hand, and the sound of her voice was all he needed to get the show done.

The moment he stepped off the stage, he went in search of her, found her, and demanded she let him take her out. She did. The rest was history.

"You'll be perfect," she assured, tapping his tuxedo covered chest with her palm.
Only because she was there.

The public, fans, media, and the world--they didn't know. They didn't have a single clue she was the only reason he still preformed, or how she inspired every piece he put to paper. They couldn't possibly know his world officially tilted and revolved around her the moment they met.

It wasn't their business to know.

"Kill it, huh?" she said with a wink, her fingers in his hair tightening to leave behind a sting as a reminder while he played.

He smiled. "For you, always."
Blog Tour: Taking Vengeance by M.K. Theodoratus - @Kaytheod
Taking Vengeance by +M. K. Theodoratus 
Historical Fantasy Fiction

Furious, Mariah and Ashton, seek vengeance for brutal attack on their daughter by vicious Sea Raiders.
In a tale older than time itself, Taking Vengeance tells a story about the strength and conviction of a mother's love against those who would harm her family. After witnessing centuries of fighting and chaos against her
people and her own bickering with Linden, the ruler of the Far Isles Half-Elven, Mariah has withdrawn from politics to seek a peaceful life as a healer. 


But Mariah's peace is short lived when Sea Raiders attack her daughter's family, leaving her at death's door. The act of bigoted cruelty plunges Mariah into despair. Her grief is sensed by Ashton, her partner who is far away spying on their southern enemies, and he uses his elven magic to rush to her side. The couple's rage boils over at the outrage. Ashton urges Mariah to belt on her
sword and seek vengeance against their daughter's  attackers.



Mariah discovers the Sea Raiders wield a strange new magic that threatens all they hold dear. But can she convince Linden that their country is in danger before it's too late? 
Taking Vengeance is a tale set in the world of the Far Isles Half-Elven, who constantly fight among themselves even though they’re beset by enemies on all sides.


Mariah lifted her arms over her head, stretching to feel the full impact of the retreating gale. If only Ashton and I could sail away from our troubles with our daughter!

Tired from a day of mediating petty disputes for her holding and helping at the healer's hall, Mariah stood on a promontory over-looking the churning eastern sea. The wind whipped her loose chestnut hair around her head. The gusts tempted her to ride the buffeting air currents, not keeping her pointed ears politely tacked to her head out of sight under her hair. The illusion of freedom teased the weight of time and sorrow from her thoughts.

For a moment she thought of removing her shirt to feel the wind against her unbound breasts but changed her mind. Flight held no allure without Ashton next to her. When alone, they often sailed the air currents, making love, their souls merging until their bodies glowed and sparked with their commingled power.

Her mind reached out to caress the tether of woven energy between them. Ashton was angry. Her lips tightened, but she couldn’t help him. They had agreed to live apart to ease Linden's complaints that they picked at him, two against one.

:Mother, where are you?

Her daughter’s silent cry riveted Mariah’s attention. Norerah and her family should be far at sea by now. Unexpected pain invaded her mind as she sought out her daughter, only to catch a dim glimpse of her own hall far to the west.

:Ambush.

The thought was a bare whisper before the connection between them went dark. Mariah transferred home across the leagues without thinking and found her daughter bleeding on the floor of her own hall. A harpoon pierced the babe in her carrypack and opened a gaping wound across Norerah’s back until it embedded in her shoulder. Her daughter's reddish-brown warrior’s braid fell across the
blood-soaked rag rug the two had stitched together during the long winter nights.

Kneeling by the expanding stain, Mariah struggled to remain calm. She took a deep breath as her fingers traced the path of the harpoon barb under the skin. Using the magic that made her a skilled healer, she mentally probed the broken ribs and lacerated flesh as she sought the source of pulsing blood. She needed to stop the flow; Norie had already lost too much.

Mariah took deep breaths to stay calm. The aftermath of battles always crippled her thinking. She forced the mocking memory of her elder son, sprawled on a battlefield pierced by arrows, from her mind. The healer had no time to soothe that wound to her heart. Only a thread tied her daughter’s life to this world.

Twisting her hair into a knot with bloody hands, Mariah bit her lip. I refuse to give her up to the Fates! The Summerlands can’t have her. One child is enough to give up too early. 






Comics first hooked M. K. Theodoratus on fantasy. When she discovered L. Frank Baum's first Oz books, the strong female characters drew her into the possibilities of alternate worlds. Then, she stared writing in grade school when a teacher assigned a short story lesson. The assignment was incomplete at 25 pages, but she finished the book by the next summer. The Children’s Librarian, the only other person who’s read it, thought it well-done.

Theodoratus has enjoyed at least four writing careers, including non-fiction. Now she writes fantasy ... mostly because it amuses her. Theodoratus writes in the world of her grumpy Far Isles Half-Elven, often featuring Mariah del Oesti
or Renna of Ren Creek. She also explores other magical worlds of ghosts, gargoyles, and Fae. Most of her newer stories are set in Andor where demons
prey on humans. You can read more about her fantasy at http://www.mktheodoratus.com

   





Spotlight on The Beast of Birch Hill by Naomi Clark - @Naomi_Jay

The Beast of Birch Hill

By Naomi Clark
A Romance on the Go
 
*Paranormal * F/F * Erotic Romance*
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
 
 

Blurb:

 

Wildlife photographer and cryptozoology blogger Emma Jordan came to Birch Hill expecting to find another urban legend. The rumours of a big cat stalking the woods around this quiet town surely had to be just that - rumours. But when the evidence starts to pile up that Birch Hill really does have a killer cat on the loose, Emma finds herself caught in a confusing game of cat and mouse. And her blossoming relationship with Abi Blakely might just be pushing her further into danger.

 





 

Excerpt:

Emma awoke in a tangle of sheets to the sound of running water. She sat up, finger-combing her knotted hair, and looked around for Abi. The door to the en suite was open and she could just make out Abi's silhouette behind the frosted glass shower door. Her pussy throbbed, an almost Pavlovian reaction, and for a second she contemplated slipping in there with her.

            Then her phone, discarded along with her jeans last night, started ringing. Cursing, but unable to ignore it, she leaned over the side of the bed to grab it. An unfamiliar number flashed on the screen.

            “Hello?”

            “What happened last night? Where were you?”

            It took her sleep-hazed brain a second to recognize the voice, and a second longer to realize Jed wasn't asking her about her sex life. “Something came up. I couldn't make it out there. Why do you care anyway?” she asked, realizing she sounded rude just a little too late. “I mean, we hadn't planned to go up to the woods together, after all.”

            “No, but I went anyway. You city folks, you think you know the woods, you think you're gonna be safe, but you don't know shit, so I went to keep an eye on you. And guess what?”

            “You wasted your night? I'm sorry, Jed, but—”

            “There was another kill!” he said, almost triumphantly.

            Emma stilled. “A cat kill?”

            “That's right. Big old deer, just slaughtered and left on the trail. If you'd been out there with your camera like you said, you'd have caught it all.”

            “There's no guarantee of that,” Emma said. “But I'd like to come and have a look now, see if there are any more paw prints or anything.”

            “Well, the deer isn't going anywhere,” Jed said. “Meet you at the trail's start in an hour, if you can make time for it.”

            He hung up without waiting for her reply. Emma swore softly and tossed the phone across the bed just as Abi emerged from the shower. The sight of her wrapped in a mint green towel, her dark hair dripping water down her cleavage, was briefly distracting.

            “What's up?” Abi asked.

            “Jed just called. He found a deer kill in the woods – the Beast strikes again, I guess. He's annoyed I wasn't out there to capture it all on tape.”

            Abi frowned. “That can't be right.”

            “What can't?”

            “The Beast, the cat – I mean...it can't...didn't you just go see a kill yesterday? Cats don't hunt that often, surely?”

            “This one seems to be killing for fun,” Emma said, climbing out of bed. “So I guess I should go take a look.”

            Abi clutched at her towel, expression worried. “If you did find it, or get it on film or whatever, what then? What would you do?”

            Emma shrugged. “I wouldn't do anything except blog about it. I'm not out to capture the Beast or kill it or anything. But if I do get proof of an alien big cat out here, I want to talk about it!” Her initial lack of enthusiasm at Jed's call was fading away. The thought of uncovering a mystery, even a small one, and sharing the answer with the world, was irresistible. And sure, there would be a mundane explanation – escaped zoo animal, abandoned exotic pet – but it would still be part of the bigger puzzle. That was worth getting excited about.

            She went to kiss Abi as she passed to use the shower, but Abi barely seemed to notice. She was still frowning, staring at the bed they'd shared last night as if it suddenly just materialized there.

            “Abi? You okay?” Emma touched her arm lightly and Abi jumped.

            “No. Yeah, I mean, yeah, I'm fine. I just...hey.” She looked up at Emma, chewing her lip. “Could I come with you?”

            “You wanna come see a dead deer?”

            Abi smiled. “Sure. Maybe I can make it into dinner later.”

            Emma laughed, but a touch of unease crept over her. The feeling didn't make sense, so she tried to ignore it. “I don't see why not. It's probably not going to be any fun though, with Jed there.”

“That's fine. I never expect dead things to be fun.”

About the Author:

Naomi likes writing, perfume, fancy tea, and unfathomable monsters from the dark spaces between the stars, not necessarily in that order. She has been writing stories ever since she learned how to write, but is still trying to master the art of biography writing. When she's not dealing with werewolves, demons, or sea monsters, she's hanging out with her cat and probably watching a documentary about Bigfoot. If the cat isn't available, she's with her fiancé watching cookery shows and silently plotting her next book.

 

Find Naomi online:



Teaser of WIP Estranged Hearts
Now that I got Filthy Ruin down to paper, I can finally get back to the hero and heroine of Estranged Hearts. I put the story on hold while I finished my other WIP because some characters are just way more demanding than others. Need I say more?

Anyway, Carson and Cami are happy to see me back for a while, getting their story told as well.

Here's a piece of the two meeting again after ... well, years:


Quickly, Cami dropped the drinks off to the waiting table and began to make her way back to the bar. Just as she passed the previous idiots with the big mouths, a hand landed flat on her ass with a reverberating smack. Laughter and insults flew from the crowd. Cami tensed for a fraction of a second before she went to make her own move. She didn’t have a chance.

The dumbass frat boy was flung three body lengths backwards into his flock of friends by the back of his T-shirt. Cami barely recognized the blurred movement of bodies surrounding the man and the idiot as they tumbled to the floor.

Actually, it was more like the one guy simply yanked the frat boy down without any trouble at all. Cami’s gaze was drawn to the guy wearing dark wash jeans that practically hugged his ass and a black T-shirt that gave no qualms about showing off his roped bands of muscle, unable to move.

The dark curls that once donned his head were gone, replaced now by the sharp buzz cut military men were known for. Even from where Cami stood, she could feel the controlled anger and cold demeanor radiating off his frame in waves. His assault on the frat boy stilled everyone around them into statues. Solid smacks of his fist landed one after another.

Bam.

Bam.

Bam.

Like fucking cement hitting wood, there was no give behind the hits, only weight and rage.

Dark and gruff, he spat hatefully under his breath, “You don’t touch what isn’t yours, kid.”

Cami was in shock, frankly. From her toes to her fingers, she felt numb. The last thing she expected was to see that body again, let alone that man.

Finally, reality set it. Cami was behind Carson in seconds, yanking on his T-shirt, but it did absolutely no good. She could feel the heat of his body underneath her palms and it almost felt like her skin was sucking that sensation up like a drug.

How long had it been since she touched him?

Years. Many, many years. Too many to count.

Why had he come here?

As far as Cami knew, Carson was still stationed at the naval base in Little Creek, Virginia. His platoon was a part of Team 2, one of the most respected and valued Naval Special Warfare Groups the SEALs had.

“Stop! My God, Carson, stop it! Please stop!”

He didn’t react a bit to her pleas.

Two bouncers slipped through the crowd gathering around the fight. Cami was knocked back to the floor as if she didn’t weigh a thing, a warning shouted at her from one of the bouncers when she tried to get back up.

If it were any other man fighting on the floor, the bouncers probably could have handled him with ease. But it wasn’t. Carson was a trained machine. A Navy SEAL whose entire life revolved around knowing no pain, feeling no pain, and seeing no pain. They made him that way. Unmoveable, unfeeling. The kind of man who looked at the day as a mission to conquer and then move on to the next, nothing more. Hand to hand combat was as much second nature as his love of football was.

Cami hated she knew those things.

Hated it even more that that’s all she considered as it took another two bouncers to disable her old lover enough to get him under control.

Finally, Cami was looking into Carson’s face. The strong lines of his jaw ticked with blistering anger, his dark brown eyes swimming with the same hate. His body was chiseled with muscle definition and unrestricted power. The short cut of his hair allowed her to see evidence of an old scar along his right eyebrow, one she’d accidentally caused when they were both sixteen and stupid.

“Cami, you okay?” a bouncer asked.

Cami nodded. She felt anything but okay. Lies, that’s what life was made of.

“Let me go,” Carson hissed.

“Carson, stop it,” Cami whispered. “Chill out and they’ll let you go.”

The bouncers around her seemed to still. “You know this guy?”

Of course she did.

“He’s my husband.”
Guest Author @ElodieParkes Stops By To Chat Her Newest Release - Love At First Sigh

Thank you for inviting me to your blog with my new Hot Ink Press release Love at First Sigh.

 

The first thing people ask me concerning this release is about the title. They say ‘is that a typo, shouldn’t it be Love at First Sight?’ No, it’s not a typo (smiles). This book is a duo of red-hot contemporary romance stories, Pina Colada and Handy Hubby Hire. The stories feature a love at first sight thread, but initially it’s huge physical attraction to each other when the couples meet. They sigh with lust and then the romance develops.

Handy Hubby Hire: Tired of the maintenance jobs mounting up in her house, Sara hires a handyman. She never dreams someone like Griffen Fox will show up to fix the faucets and back yard gate. Sparks fly, but will they lose their heart to each other?

Pina Colada: When Emma takes a long weekend vacation in a warm beach resort, she meets the very handsome Matt Tyler. They spend an idyllic few days together. Will this only be a holiday romance?

 

I wanted my male characters in the two stories to be very different personalities and yet still similarly alpha enough to go for the girl they wanted sexually right away.

Matt Tyler in Pina Colada is fun and almost dares the heroine, Emma, to engage in lust driven sex. He also gives her romantically exactly what she needs on her holiday break in the sun. Picture the white sandy beaches, the pale green almost transparent ocean, frangipani perfumed, warm night air and a drop-dead gorgeous man, who wants you…bad.

Griffen Fox in Handy Hubby Hire is visually a bad boy, muscled with a swirling black tattoo and an old truck. He’s capable and calm, but underneath the professional exterior simmers…sex…lust…red-hot desire for the heroine, Sara, as soon as he sees her.

He tells her what he’s going to do. He gives her what she’s longing for and then…something happens to him…something unexpected.

 

As the writer I like Matt very much, but Griffen, well, he’s an absolute darling.



I designed and produced the book cover using Handy Hubby Hire as the inspiration. It took some time tracing the stock photography of the truck and had other people in it, which I edited out and then I found my couple. I love this premise, with the sexy guy holding his lover up against him and nuzzling her neck. I hope it gives a feel for the originality of the stories, their heroes and heroines that could be you and the sexually charged atmosphere of hot summer encounters.

 

Read an excerpt of each story

Pina Colada 18+

“… Matt Tyler, good to meet you. I’ll sit here beside you if you don’t mind?” He picked up the blue towel, shook it out, and after placing it on the poolside tiles, sat down.

Emma didn’t answer. She watched him, mesmerized by the beauty of his sculpted body. She took a deep breath and let it out in an unconscious sigh of appreciation. His head now in line with her face, she stared into his dark blue eyes.

He smiled. “I’ve told you my name…so…”

He obviously wanted to know her name. She hurriedly told him.

“Emma Cooper, it’s nice to meet you.” As she spoke, she speculated if he could hear her heartbeat, if he glimpsed the longing in her eyes. She dropped her gaze. As much as she wanted a holiday romance, she had no idea how to initiate one. At twenty-five, I should be better at this.

She looked ahead at the shimmering pool. Mosaic dolphin decorations twined around the inner top. The water looked coolly seductive. Emma wondered if she could pass Matt to get to the pool and slide into the blue depth. She moved her legs to the side of the lounger and shuffled to give him the idea she needed to stand. She held the side of the sun lounger. The heated metal stung and she let go quickly. She fell forward a little, feeling foolish, shy, and needy.

A shock prickled up her thigh as Matt’s strong, brown hand took hold of her calf and he looked into her eyes. A wash of heated cream wet her pussy, as his fingers stroked the back of her leg. Her nipples peaked in the delicate, fabric triangles of her bikini top. The reaction her body produced to this guy overwhelmed Emma and she sat hypnotized by his blue gaze.

“Okay?” he asked. “Thought you were about to overbalance there.”

Emma ran her tongue over her top lip. “I’m going for a swim. Sorry I need to pass.”

Matt took hold of her hand.

She observed him actually check for a ring on her wedding band finger.

“Here you go.” He steadied her and pulled at the same time so that she could stand.

Emma had to pass him with her ass close to his face. She couldn’t do it, and took a step so that she passed facing him. Only when the mound of her pussy, in the pink fabric of her bikini, hovered a whisper away from his mouth, did she realize that wasn’t a good move. Hide my ass, but stuff my creaming pussy in his face. She cringed inside.

Matt let go of her hand and her calf, but with complete confidence, he slid his hand between her legs, high on her thighs.

Emma looked down into his mischievous smile. His fingertips sent shivers through her clit. Her pussy throbbed and drenched her bikini panties. Involuntarily her thighs clenched. Her face heated, a blush crept up her neck, as the only thing she could think of was having his fingers inside her pussy, stroking her clit, filling her, and pumping. She looked around…can anyone see this? No one seemed particularly interested in her. A man a couple of sun loungers away stroked his woman companion’s nipples, his fingers inside the cups of her bra-top. Emma’s breasts grew heavy, and she knew her nipples had to be poking out ready for a man to suck.

“I’m okay. Thanks,” she finally answered, and tore away from his grasp. His fingers trailed along the back of her thigh, and as she took a step toward the pool, he stroked just the once across her ass.

Copyright Elodie Parkes 2014 Hot Ink Press All Rights Reserved

Handy Hubby Hire 18+

Griffen Fox drew a deep breath as he watched Sara walk down the hall to her office. He grinned as he took in the sight of her soft ass in her cutoff jeans. Made for grabbing…she’s made for fucking. Pretty, beautiful eyes, lips that make you want to bite them hard as you ram her onto your cock. Damn, Griff, that’s a little over the top, get a grip, and start work. He opened the front door, clicked up the catch so that it wouldn’t lock him out, and went to his truck. An old F500, he’d covered the tray top and made space there for tools and supplies. It proved a good workhorse. Griffen calculated the time it would take to do the jobs in the house — not long really, pesky jobs, but not hard or time consuming, as in a week, unless he strung them out. He’d be there most of the day and one more morning. He looked back at the house from his vantage point on the gravel drive. It’s a nice place. She seems to live there alone. What’s a lovely woman like that doing with no man in her life? Maybe there is one. Maybe I’ll ask her.

Griffen took his tools and supplies in the house and started work. He hummed as he worked. He thought about Sara too, as he rehung the backyard gate. He liked the way her nipples peaked in that tight, white T-shirt, before she covered them up. She’d gazed hungrily at him too. There was something needy about her that made him want to pick her up, crush her to his body, kiss her tenderly and then fuck her hard. Fuck away that fleeting sadness in her eyes. Fuck a smile onto that pretty face. Have those fingers of hers curl around my cock… have those full lips suck it. Hell, I’m getting an erection. I’d like to kiss her. I like her. I do. I bet she tastes sweet.

He jumped when her voice interrupted his thoughts.

“I’m making coffee. Would you like a cup?”

She stood behind him and he turned. The sunlight caught her hair and lit it up with golden streaks. Her T-shirt skimmed the top of her low riding, cutoff jeans. Griffen stared at the flat expanse of stomach on display as she reached up and plucked a few dead twigs off the young tree nearby. He ran his tongue along his top lip as he saw the muscles in her thighs tighten when she stood on tiptoe. She’s lovely… Her nearness made him shake a little.

“I’d love a cup of coffee, thank you.” He steadied his voice, and followed her to the kitchen.

Copyright Elodie Parkes 2014 Hot Ink Press, All right Reserved

About Elodie:

Elodie Parkes is a British author writing romance, erotic, contemporary, and often with a twist of mystery, paranormal or suspense. Her books are always steamy — cool stories and hot love scenes.

Elodie lives in Canterbury with her two dogs. She works in an antique emporium by day and writes at night, loving the cloak of silent darkness that descends on the rural countryside around her home.

Elodie writes for, Hot Ink PressMoon Rose PublishingEternal PressSecret Cravings, Evernight, and Siren Publishing.

She has also released titles as an individual indie author.

Find Elodie online: Blog  Tumblr  Facebook  Twitter 


 

‘Love at First Sigh’ is on launch special at .99 cents and .77 GBp on Amazon initially so grab it fast.





 

Or, Check for the release on kindle, http://a-fwd.com/asin-com=B00AHBYPO4



 
Things I'll Never Write ...
As an erotic romance author, I often cross a few boundaries or push my own personal limits when it comes to certain topics or even scenes. There's a line I toe when I start thinking about how far I'm willing to take a couple in a certain book, or what I'm willing to put to paper, even. It balances between personal experience and fiction.

After all, it should feel real.

Different stories require different heat levels. Different characters need less heat because it isn't true to them. I believe good authors know when to tell the difference, and it's always a cringe-worthy moment when you find a book full of erotic scenes that are not true to the story or the characters personalities. Sex can be hot, hot, hot even when it's vanilla but it doesn't have to be forced, so to speak.

Needless to say, there are a few things since starting out on this career of mine that I've found I will not write no matter what. I will not write it just because it's "what readers want" or "what's super hot on the market right now". Those things don't matter to me if I'm not enjoying what I'm writing, or it doesn't feel like my honest ability coming out to play.

Writing has very rarely felt like a job to me, and I refuse to start letting it feel like that now just to make a buck.

So, what are some of these things I just won't write, no matter what? Some might surprise you.

BDSM is one thing I can't do. I do enjoy reading the occasional erotic romance with BDSM elements, but the plot can't focus wholly on the BDSM and I will usually pick up a book with these elements by an author I enjoy before trying out a new one. But for me to write it? That's always going to be a no-go. There is very little I enjoy about the topic, and while I know so many do like it, I do not. I certainly wouldn't feel comfortable putting it into my stories. I don't know enough about it to make it feel authentic and real, so it'd be like me passing off forced words as a plot.

M/M is another subject I wouldn't wander too far into. I love to read M/M. Love it. It's just another thing I don't feel like I could make it feel honest or real from me. F/F I would maybe try, under a different penname perhaps. And possibly ... MMF.

MC romances. I don't mind bringing in MC elements. My latest WIP Filthy Ruin has a heroine who is unwillingly affiliated with an MC. I wouldn't, however, write a hero involved with one. Personal experiences keep me far away from that topic. I don't read MC romances, either. It's not a pretty life, so it isn't one I care to delve into.

Labor/birth scenes. It may not fall into the category of genres, like the others above, but it is something I will not write. I think that's personal and private, even if it is fictional. I didn't want mine recorded, photographed, and never mind the thought of a dozen and one people in the room with me while it was happening. It isn't a fear of writing emotional scenes--I think some of the stuff I've written speaks for itself in that element. I simply will not write something that private. Readers have great imaginations, otherwise they wouldn't be reading, so imagine a birth however it pleases you to. Fictional or not, I won't put one to paper.
And the final thing I would never write? A single word: cunt. I hated even typing it out for this blog post, frankly, and felt the need to wash my eyes out with bleach after doing so. To me, that word is degrading. It shouldn't be used in any shape or form. I cringe whenever I read it and try to skip quickly on by. Some people think it works for certain heroes or sex scenes. That's fine. Go on ahead. I will not be jumping on that bandwagon unless one character is spitting it at another for the purpose of what I think it should be used for--degrading someone.

Curious minds want to know ... what won't you write?

--Kris
Spotlight on Nina's Dom by Raven McAllan #Erotic #BDSM
Nina's Dom
by Raven McAllan
 
Contemporary * Erotic * BDSM * Interracial
Publisher: Evernight Publishing

 

It's funny how my characters tell me very firmly who they are, what they are and insist I write just that. No trying to change them. It just won't work.

By trial and error, I've now accepted that.

Nina and Dominic were no exception. In fact I wondered at times if they would ever get together, they were so blooming stubborn.

However they had fun trying to show each other whom they were and what they wanted.

I just wrote what they told me to—as you do.

This is the result.

 

Blurb:

 

Nina Mack is no sub. So why then do all her senses scream at her to submit to the enigmatic Dominic Christopher?

When the two meet at her friend's hen party at Dommissimma, sparks fly. Their attraction is immediate and explosive, but how can Nina ever allow herself to enter into a relationship with a Dom?

Dominic has lost interest in BDSM since the death of his wife, so the insistent tug of awareness toward the volatile and decidedly bratty Nina is a welcome surprise.

With his inner Dom firmly awakened can he convince Nina to give their relationship a try?

Time will tell if these two can find their own Dom/sub relationship and reclaim happiness.

 

A wee tease…

 

"Breathe, anima mia, watch the wax, see how it comes to caress you. Take the sting, let it into you, let it flow."

That was the only warning she had. Nina opened her eyes, and looked upward to see Nic, wax candle in one hand, tilt it so the flame stood at an angle from the candle. Then like a raindrop on a windowpane, a tiny teardrop gathered and slid towards her.

Nina couldn't take her eyes off it. For what seemed an aeon the wax dropped through the air, and then it kissed her skin.

She hissed as the kiss turned into a pain so intense she wanted to scream. How the hell could anyone say it was pleasure? She bit her lip to stop the cuss words spilling out. If it hadn't been the look of total absorption on Nic's face as he twisted his hand to increase the speed of the droplets and create a cobwebby pattern over her shoulders and the swell of her breasts, Nina knew damned well she'd have cried red. She held her breath to stop the pain spreading.

"Breathe, anima mia, let it fill you. Now." The last word was harsh. It broke into her panic, and Nina let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The candle flame wavered as the whoosh of air she expelled reached it, and she looked at it in dismay. It couldn't go out, not now, not when…

When there was no pain. Just a radiant heat that spread over her skin, and dipped deep inside her. She smiled, licked her lips and cleared her throat, as Nic steadied the candle flame and stared down at her, his eyes watchful, his expression showing a tiny hint of vulnerability, and, she decided, pleading.

"More, Sir. I want more."

He smiled. "Topping from the bottom, anima mia?"

"You bet."

"In that case." He tilted the candle again.

She flew. Every sting, every tap of pain became pleasure. Nina had no idea when Nic ceased his twist and drip act with the candle, until she felt the ties on her arms and legs removed, and she was snuggled in a blanket on Nic's lap.

He stroked her hair as she sighed, and blinked a few times. The room was still in shadow, and silent. Any watchers had either left or were being very quiet.

"Good?"

Nina considered. Was good the right word? It seemed too mild for what she'd just experienced. Her body buzzed with tiny darts of pleasure, and her brain was fuzzy, as if she'd eaten too much, and drunk one glass too many. But in a perfect sated, complete way. As a sub when she had played before, she'd never ever felt so deeply. Never lost her sense of surroundings or what was happening. This time had been oh so different.

"I don't know that good is the right word, Sir." She yawned and put her hand over her mouth. She could sleep for a week if she had the chance. "Good is too weak. I've never felt like that. I floated, I felt, and I just let myself be." She hesitated, unsure of how to express that feeling of rightness. "Be part of the pleasure that the pain gave me. Nothing mattered except knowing you were giving me the experience. That my Sir wanted me to gain all of it and more. That I pleased my Sir."

Nic's arms tightened around her.

"Oh you pleased me, anima mia. More than that. You gave your all. What more could a Dom want but to see his pet, his partner, his anima mia fly?"

 

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Spray Paint Kisses is LIVE - #NewRelease with @evernightpub
I'm so excited to introduce my graffiti artist hero and my wandering heroine to the world! These are two of my sweetest characters ... yet they still feel the heat. Do enjoy the excerpt and I'll be over here squealing about my release day. ;) -- Kris

Spray Paint Kisses by Bethany-Kris

Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance, New Adult

Publisher: Evernight Publishing

Length: 26k – Short Story

 

Blurb:

He’s left his mark everywhere. She’s still trying to find a place to leave hers.

Gage Masselin is a graffiti artist whose life has revolved around his art, and focused entirely on his career. He’s never needed a muse to get his inspiration flowing, so when an unexpected blonde-haired beauty knocks him out of his zone, he knows he’s in trouble.

Summer Davey is just a traveling girl with a gypsy’s soul. The one constant she has is her need to keep moving on. She’s never stayed in one place long enough to plant roots, never mind finding a man with spray paint kissing the tips of his fingers to make her heart beat faster.

She inspires him. He’s the first thing to ever feel like home.

Sometimes the hardest things to find in love and life are the easiest to lose.

 

Excerpt:

“Isn’t that illegal?”
Gage Masselin nearly dropped the aerosol paint can when he heard the feminine voice. Whenever he was in the middle of creating a tag, he was in the zone. There were no sounds but the constant whoosh of the spray paint can’s nozzle and his rhythmic breathing. No distractions took him away from his art.
Well, usually.
Turning on his heel, Gage forgot about the black and white bandana he still wore around his lower face as a shield from the paint fumes. The material muffled his surprise as he came face to face with the prettiest damned thing he’d ever seen in his twenty-two years of life.
Long waves of golden hair were tied off to the side in a messy braid, falling over her front. There wasn’t a lick of makeup on her clear peaches and cream complexion. Standing in gladiator style sandals, ripped up jean shorts, and a faded band T-shirt, the girl could have been just about anyone.
Except she couldn’t. Gage’s tiny New Brunswick hometown was a blink and you’d miss it kind of place. Growing up in Plaster Rock gave him the ability to know everyone, even if he didn’t officially live there fulltime anymore. Thing was, people moved away, new people didn’t move there.

Everybody knew everyone else, or they thought they did. Gage didn’t know this girl.

“Uh …”
The girl smirked before waving in Gage’s direction. “Your face.”

His face?

What?

“My—”

Instantly, Gage realized what the girl meant. The bandana still covered the lower part of his face, including his mouth. He probably looked like some little hoodrat hiding in the alley, tagging the shit out of the high school library’s wall.

No wonder she thought he was doing something illegal.

Tugging down the bandana so it rested around his throat, Gage offered the girl a shrug in explanation. “Sorry, habit to wear it. I usually don’t have company when I’m painting, so no reason to have my mouth free to chat.”

“You mean an accomplice, right?”

“No, I mean company,” Gage replied with a smile.

“I didn’t realize graffiti had become legal.”

Oh, this girl had balls, or she just liked breaking them. Either way, Gage liked that.

“It’s not. That’s probably why I spent two years in juvenile hall.”

“Wouldn’t be juvie now, though.”

“No,” Gage said. “It’d be the pen. Good thing it’s legal. I’m not looking to spend any more time in a lockup.”

The girl still didn’t look convinced.
“Honest, sweetheart. See …” Gage pointed at the piece of official paper taped to the brick wall. If a cop happened to stop by, all he had to do was refer to that permit. “Gives me the right to be here slumming up this wall with my work. The school commissioned me to do the piece. It’s all on the legal side of things, promise.”
A small hand rested on her jutted out hip. The action caused Gage to let his eyes wander down the expanse of her creamy thighs and wonder if they felt as smooth and silky as they looked. They probably did. He bet she’d taste like salt, skin, and sin.

Shit, how short were those jean shorts of hers, anyway?

Short enough that they made Gage’s mouth a little dry just from staring.

Fucked, that’s what he was, and he didn’t even know her name.

“If you say so,” the girl mused.

Gage couldn’t help but tease. “What would you have done if I said it was illegal? Call the cops?”

“Nope.”

“That’s it?”

She smiled a blinding sight. “That’s it. It is pretty.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“You’re welcome.”

With one more glance at the bare bones of the mural just beginning to take form, the girl turned to leave. Gage was positive his heart leaped into his throat, creating a lump his words couldn’t make their way by.

“Wait!”

The darkened blue of her eyes glittered as she stared back. “Yeah?”

Gage forced himself to swallow the nerves beginning to form in his throat. Nervousness wasn’t like him at all. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

“You didn’t tell me yours, either.”

“Gage. It’s Gage.”

“Summer.”

 

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