Book Spotlight~ The Cracked Slipper

The Cracked Slipper by  Stephanie Alexander

Buy at Amazon

When Eleanor Brice unexpectedly wins the heart of Gregory Desmarais, Crown Prince of Cartheigh, she’s sure she’s found her happily-ever-after. Unfortunately, Prince Charming has a loose grip on his temper, a looser grip on his marriage vows, and a tight grip on the bottle.

Eight years of mistreatment, isolation and clandestine book learning hardly prepare Eleanor for life at EclatantPalace, where women are seen, not heard. According to Eleanor’s eavesdropping parrot, no one at court appreciates her unladylike tendency to voice her opinion. To make matter worse, her royal fiancé spends his last night of bachelorhood on a drunken whoring spree. Before the ink dries on her marriage proclamation Eleanor realizes that she loves her husband’s best friend, former soldier Dorian Finley.

Eleanor can’t resist Dorian’s honesty, or his unusual admiration for her intelligence, and soon both are caught in a dangerous obsession. She drowns her confusion in charitable endeavors, but the people’s love can’t protect her from her feelings. When a magical crime endangers the bond between unicorns, dragons, and the royal family, a falsely accused Eleanor must clear her own name to save her life. The road toward vindication will force a choice between hard-won security and an impossible love.

The Cracked Slipper is a book club friendly fairytale retelling in the vein of Gregory Maguire, with a dash of romance. Set in a pseudo-renaissance, corset-and-petticoats enchanted kingdom, The Cracked Slipper brings a magical twist to women’s fiction.

Teaser Excerpt:

“He tugged at his earlobe. “I can’t, Mistress, and I would, just to get you out of this hallway, but Prince Gregory is not here.”

“Not here? What do you mean? It has to be—”

“Two in the morning.”

“Two in the morning,” she said. Something icy formed in her chest, and it wasn’t from the cold tiles beneath her feet. “I see. Well, I’ll be going.” She turned slowly.

“I’m sorry, Mistress.” The gruff voice followed her, but she didn’t want to turn around and see the sympathy on his face. She started up the steps but stopped midway.

There must be an explanation. She could not face tomorrow not knowing. She would wait and see, and it would all be revealed. Probably just some late-night meeting with his advisers, a problem that must solved before the wedding. She would wait until he returned, and then go back to bed happy.

Exhaustion caught up with her and she sat on the bottom step out of view of the guard. She wrapped her arms around her knees and in spite of the cold she nodded off. After some time, maybe ten minutes or maybe an hour, she heard voices. She sat up.

They were male voices, and some of them sounded familiar. She rocked forward on her numb toes and peered around the corner again.

She recognized Dorian first, and then Brian, Raoul, and several of Gregory’s other friends. Dorian struggled to hold someone up. Her heart sank as she recognized Gregory’s auburn hair.

He could barely stand. His legs kept buckling underneath him. Each time they crumpled he reached up with both arms. He grabbed Dorian’s neck and nearly dragged them both to the floor. The other men kept up a constant stream of harassment. She lost track of who said what, but their words rang painfully clear.

“What’s that Gregory? Those two Talessee girls where too much for you?”

“We should have quit after the redhead. She took care of him quite nicely.”

“Did you see the tits on that one?”

“Old Greg was probably seeing four of them. He was so smashed he was already falling over.”

“But his flagpole was standing up!” They all roared with laughter.

“A fine tribute to Cartheigh!”

“Tell me, Gregory, how will your sweet little maid compare with those last two?”

Gregory’s head swung up. “See, what you boys don’t realize…is I can have the sweet little maid and still bang as many whores as I see fit. Benefits of the crown.”

Eleanor could barely breathe. She head Dorian’s voice for the first time. “All right, all right, let’s get you to bed or you’re liable to pass out on the altar.”

Gregory spoke again. “And you know, boys, little Eleanor is not quite as sweet as you may think— I’ve already had my hands on her—”

“Enough, Gregory,” Dorian said. He thrust the stuttering prince off on Brian and Raoul. He took the keys from the guard, who gazed resolutely at the wall.

“Tonight was just practice for tomorrow—”

“Enough!”Dorian exclaimed.

Eleanor couldn’t take any more. Without any further thought she stepped out into the hallway.

They all froze, a bunch of possums blinded by a woodsmen’s torch. Eleanor couldn’t speak. She simply stood there, staring at Gregory strung between Brian and Raoul like a pair of wet stockings left out to dry. Her hands clenched at her sides in tight fists. Blood roared in her ears, but her eyes were dry.

Dorian finally broke the silence.“Eleanor.”

Gregory cocked his head. “Sweetheart, how good to see you.”

His body jerked and he vomited. It covered his boots, and the sentry’s. The guard never moved. The acidic scent hit Eleanor’s nose and broke her paralysis. She fled up the steps. She heard Dorian calling after her but she didn’t stop. She brushed past her own sentry, threw the door open with both hands, closed it and drew the latch. She leaned against it. She had left her candle in the hallway, but she’d built the fire well and it still burned. She jumped at a gentle tap on the door behind her.

Dorian’s voice through the thick wood loosened the tears that had not come downstairs. “Eleanor,” he said, “please open the door. Let me explain.”

“No, go away.”

“He’s just drunk. It’s just talk among men. He didn’t mean any of it.”

“So where were you all? You weren’t out pitching lawn bolls!”

“I don’t deny it, or defend it. But Gregory loves you. He never meant to hurt you. ”

She leaned her head against the door. There was no way she could open it. “I don’t know what to believe,” she said. And then, louder, “Please go away, Dorian. Please.”

“As you wish.”

She sensed him standing on the other side, and then his footsteps moved down the hallway.”

 

 

Stephanie will be awarding a $10 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour.

Follow the tour and comment; the more comments you  leave, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2013/04/virtual-super-book-blast-cracked.html

About the Author:

Stephanie Alexander grew up in the suburbs of Washington, DC, the oldest of three children. Drawing, writing stories, and harassing her parents for a pony consumed much of her childhood. After graduating from high school in 1995 she earned a Bachelor of Arts in Communications from the College of Charleston, South Carolina. She returned to Washington, DC, where she followed a long-time fascination with sociopolitical structures and women’s issues to a Master of Arts in Sociology from the AmericanUniversity. She spent several years as a Policy Associate at the InternationalCenter for Research on Women, a think-tank focused on women’s health and economic advancement.

Stephanie embraced full-time motherhood after the birth of the first of her three children in 2003. After six wonderful years buried in diapers and picture books she returned to her childhood passion and wrote her own fairytale. Her family put down permanent southern roots in Charleston in 2011. Stephanie is an adjunct professor of Sociology at the College of Charleston.

http://www.thecrackedslipper.com

blog.thecrackeslipper.com

http://www.facebook.com/thecrackedslipper

twitter: @crackedslipper

Smut by the Sea 2 Spotlight

Smut by the Sea Volume 2, edited by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse

Light hearted, sexy fun by the sea is the theme of this erotic anthology, edited by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse.

From the sun soaked beaches of Brazil to the altogether cooler coastal towns of England, Smut by the Sea Volume 2 has it all. Whatever your interpretation of naughty seaside fun, there’s something nestling between the covers for you. Amusement arcades, beach houses, mermaids, honeymooners, shipwrecks, sex toys and more abound in this exciting collection of stories from erotica’s finest authors.

Contains stories from Victoria Blisse, Tilly Hunter, Rachel Randall, Giselle Renarde, Tamsin Flowers, Lucy Felthouse, Kate Britton, Jillian Boyd, Bel Anderson, Cass Peterson, Delyth Angharad, T C Mill, Erzabet Bishop, Tenille Brown and Annabeth Leong.

Available from:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00CFP1W5U/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1634&creative=19450&creativeASIN=B00CFP1W5U&linkCode=as2&tag=lucyfelthouse-21

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00CFP1W5U/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00CFP1W5U&linkCode=as2&tag=lucyfelt-20

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-smutbytheseavolume2-1166823-144.html?referrer=6bdb1f9160564c0525b41f36e51861a0

Coming Soon to All Other Good eBook Retailers.

*****

Excerpt:

Brigit loved the seaside. She always had, probably because visiting it was a rarity. Living in the centre of England meant that even the nearest seaside town was over an hour and a half away—and the nice resorts even further.

Which was why her boyfriend, Allen, proposed a long weekend in Brighton. He knew how fond she was of the seaside. Unsurprisingly, she agreed delightedly.

“It’s a long way,” she said. “But it doesn’t matter. We’d never go anywhere if we lamented the length of the journey.”

As it happened, the travelling wasn’t too bad. Miraculously the M1 was clear all the way down to the M25—and even that notorious motorway wasn’t experiencing its usual havoc. A straight shot south on the M23, then the A23 took them towards Brighton, and they navigated the one-way systems and lack of road signs and—eventually—found their hotel.

“Wow,” Brigit said, stretching luxuriously after getting out of the car, “that didn’t take as long as I thought. Shall we check in, dump our bags and go and explore?”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Allen replied with a grin.

They slammed their respective car doors, grabbed the bags from the boot and headed into the hotel. Fifteen minutes later, after using the toilet and freshening up, they were back outside.

“Nice choice of hotel, babe. I like it.” Brigit said.

“I’m glad. I researched it well,” Allen replied.

“The bed looks nice and comfy.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll be able to give it a decent road test later.” He winked at her, and got a slap on the arm for his trouble.

“You’ve got a one-track mind, you have.”

“Well, what do you expect when I’ve got a girlfriend that looks like you?”

She giggled. “Charmer.”

“That’s me. Okay, now I’m back in good books,” Allen said, “what do you want to do? Now, I mean. Not at bedtime.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Brigit stuck her tongue out at him before replying. “I dunno. Just look around I guess. Get our bearings. See what there is to do around here.”

They walked hand-in-hand towards the seafront, then along it in the direction of the pier. They passed the burnt out shell of the West Pier, and Brigit wondered aloud whether it would ever be rebuilt or demolished. Or would the blackened skeleton be left there forevermore, a reminder of what once was.

Soon, they drew close to Brighton Pier. Brigit turned to Allen with a grin.

“What?” he said, then followed her almost manic gaze down the length of the pier, towards a building with fake turret-type things and some very real flags. He sighed. He couldn’t be sure from here, but he thought it was bound to be the amusement arcade. “Oh, you want to go in there, do you? I wonder why?” His voice was laden with sarcasm in his last sentence.

“You know damn well why. Come on!” Brigit tugged him along the last few metres of the pavement and onto the wooden slats of the pier. “Ooh, we can have fish and chips when we come out, if you want.”

*****

Editor Sites:

http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk

http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk

Welcome Tony-Paul de Vissage

Hi and welcome to my blog, Tony-Paul de Vissage. Please make yourself at home and grab a drink from my hunky cabana boys, Zeke and Jake.  

Merci, Raine, and bon jour, Zeke…Jake…but tell me, are there no cabana girls around? I’ll have a gin and tonic, s’il vous plait.

To get us started can you tell us a little about what you are working on or have coming out?

I’ve just finished editing my novel The Clan Andriescu for Class Act Books. Its release date is May 15.
How would you describe yourself using only five words?

Short…talented…Southern…terse…devastatingly handsome (oh wait, that’s two words, isn’t it?)
Do you have any guilty pleasures?

But of course… only I won’t tell them because then they wouldn’t be guilty, n’est pas ce bien?

If we asked your muse to describe you using five words, what do you think they would say?

My Muse isn’t speaking to me right now so they probably wouldn’t be flattering. She’d probably say…chubby spoiled talented blond runt…and then smile as she flipped me the finger and disappeared.
Name one thing readers would be surprised to know about you.

How scandalous should it be?  You mean like…I haven’t owned underwear since 1994?  Or that my new vampire series is based on facts from my own family?
If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?

Orange County, California, with homes in Ireland and Hawaii for specific seasons of the year…and perhaps a little mountain hideaway in the Carpathians for those little “week-end getaways.”
How do you get yourself in the mood to write?

I make a pot of coffee, fling myself into my chair, fire up the computer and say, “OK, Pal, get it into gear and let’s start writing!”
If someone hasn’t read any of your work, what book would you recommend that they start with and why?

It depends if they want it light or very dark. For the café au lait vampire lovers, I’d recommend The Clan Andriescu.  For those preferring a deep, dark roast, Since my series isn’t released yet…The Night Man Cometh.  Both are equally appetizing if read on a dark and stormy night.

Is there something special you do to celebrate when one of your books is released? 

Not really.  I just give myself a pat on the back for a successful submission, take a deep breath, and soldier on to the next story.

Could you tell us a couple of favorite books that inspired you to write?

Dracula would have to be at the top of the list. Other than that, there are so many.  Any of JR Ward’s Black Brotherhood entries, with a dollop of Sookie Stackhouse, and one long-ago novel whose name I can’t remember, one of the first to have a sympathetic view of the vampire. What is the title of that book? (Note to self:  Hurry up and have your library shipped from California so you can find out.)

Is music a factor for you while you are writing? Do certain songs put you in the right frame of mind to write certain stories?

I play a lot of classical music and try to match it to the mood of whatever I’m writing.  I also play a lot of Kevin MacLeod’s pieces.  When I was writing Vampires are Forever, I listened to “Miri’s Magic Dance” so much I was certain I’d wear it out.  Trouble is I usually want to get up and dance to the music and that’s counterproductive to writing unless I’ve got one of those laptop-tablets like the ones in the commercial.

If you could collaborate with one author who would it be?

I truly don’t have any idea. If I named a couple of my favorites, I’d be afraid there’d be a class of egos which would end what might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship before it starts.

What is the strangest source of writing inspiration you’ve ever had?

A scene from the movie “Jeepers Creepers’ where the heroine runs over the vampire-like creature with her car and it sits up with its wings broken and slowly puts itself back together.

If your muse were to talk behind your back, what secrets would she tell?

If the lady knows what’s good for her, she’d keep those pretty lips sealed…or it’s no more honey and ambrosia for you, dearie.

Are your characters able to love or do they need to be taught? 

Most of them are looking for love. The vampire characters sometimes have to re-learn it because they either lost or hidden that capacity when they died and they believe to show love is to show weakness and a weak vampire doesn’t last long.

Do you have a book that was easiest to write or one that was the hardest? 

Vampires are Forever was relatively easy because it was so light.  All I had to do was turn the superstitions around and laugh at them (nicely, of course).

The Night Man Cometh was difficult because it spanned such a long period of time and I wanted the historical sections as accurate as possible so I did a lot of research.  I also had to cross-reference other novels because I invited some characters from my friend Linda Nightingale’s pantheon of vampires to visit and I had to get them right.  Linda’s a particularly protective lady where her Undead are concerned. My soon-to-be-publishing series The Second Species has been pretty difficult because it takes the vampire legends and gives realistic reasons for a good many of them and I had to keep reminding myself not to fall into the old “supernatural explanation” for everything.

Could you tell us a couple of favorite books that inspired you to write? 

Just about anything with a supernatural bent.  Dracula, of course…Jim Butcher’s Harry Dresden series…I’ve already mentioned JR Ward.

What can readers expect next from you?

As I mentioned, I have a series. The Second Species, coming out. It’s with Double Dragon Publishing, but I don’t’ have a release date for the first novel, The Shadow Lord, yet. It’s just been turned over to an editor this week.

Thanks for coming. Is there anything else you want to add?  

Here’s all the places I can be found (he’s here, he’s there, he’s everywhere…)

Website: Http://www.tony-paul.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tonypaul.devissage

MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/505918625

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5117438.Tony_Paul_de_Vissage

Amazon Author Central: https://authorcentral.amazon.com/gp/profile

Twitter: @tpvissage

The Clan Andriescu

Class Act Books

Paranormal/anthology

Marius, head of the Clan… Exiled for stealing one too many women from his prince…He can’t understand why the woman he loved in 1968 doesn’t want to renew their affair in 2013…

Valerius, the baby brother… ordered to marry, he selects the one girl who’s off limits because she’s human…all right to bite but not to wed…

Timon, the cousin… Being married to the most famous writer of vampire novels since Anne Rice can be fun, until she writes an exposé proving vampires are real…

When the sun sets on SavannahBeach, they meet a smart-ass adolescent named Tony-Paul de Vissage…they entrust their life story to him…

Twenty years later, it becomes a novel…

EXCERPT: 

“Back, foul fiend!” TP crossed one forefinger over the other, holding his hands in front of him.

“What the Hell are you doing?” The one called Val demanded, jumping back with a hiss.

Timon reached out, knocking TP’s hands apart. “That won’t help you,” he snarled. “We’re Jewish!”

“Don’t believe him.” Val recovered, leaning forward to whisper rather earnestly, “We’re Russian Orthodox. Really.”

“Back foul fiend?” Marius started laughing when TP spoke and now got himself under control. “I haven’t heard that phrase in at least a century. Where’d you dig up that?”

“I-I heard it in a Dracula movie the other night.” TP looked a little disappointed at their reaction.

“Dracula.” Marius looked disgruntled. “The best example of bad press, if ever there was. He should’ve sued his publicist.”

“If you’re through dissing Dracula, would you tell me…W-where am I?” wavered TP. “What have you done to me?”

“Done to you?” They looked at each other and back at him. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie. I know what you are. Exactly.”

“Okay.” Timon walked over to the fainting couch and slouched on it, legs crossed, hands behind his head. “I’ll bite.” He looked as if he’d like to do just that. “What are we? Exactly?”

“Y-You’re…vampires!”

“Vam…” He began to laugh, displaying those overlong eyeteeth. “You’ve got a sense of humor, kid, I’ll give you that.”

“We’re not vampires…” Val began.

“Don’t lie! Y-you bit me…” TP looked wildly from Val to Timon. “Am I your thrall now?”

“Thrall?” Timon frowned. “I don’t…What’s this thrall business?”

“You know. Your servant…forced to do your bidding…hobble around saying, Yes master and no master…carry your coffin from place-to-place. Please say I don’t have to eat spiders and flies.” TP paused. All three were staring at him as if he were raving, which he was, he supposed. “Why am I explaining this to you? You’re the vampires. Don’t you know this stuff?”

“I’m afraid we’re not exactly what you’d call aware when it comes to America’s fascination with vampires,” Marius sounded very apologetic.

At the age of six, Tony-Paul de Vissage was allowed to sit up and watch the old Universal classic Dracula’s Daughter on TV. He was scared sleepless…and is now paying his parents back by writing about vampires.

 

 

Book Spotlight for The Houdini Girl

The Houdini Girl by Martyn Bedford

Fletcher ‘Red’ Brandon is a conjurer, an illusionist, a master of deception who uses his talents to seduce wild, impulsive Irish rose, Rosa, into his life with a simple sleight of hand. But when Rosa is killed, Red is pitched into a new world where betrayal, exploitation and violence are no act. The deeper Red delves into the life and death of the woman with who he shared one sexy, freewheeling year, the closer he comes to a painful realization: even the trickster can be tricked.

Available from:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B009NY1RDI/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1634&creative=19450&creativeASIN=B009NY1RDI&linkCode=as2&tag=lucyfelthouse-21

http://www.amazon.com/Houdini-Modern-Erotic-Classics-ebook/dp/B009NY1RDI/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1367335784&sr=1-1&keywords=the+houdini+girl+modern+erotic+classics

*****

Excerpt:

Prologue 

Truth is, I tricked her into falling for me. Rosa Kelly: dark hair, blue eyes – wicked combination. And, though she could’ve had her pick, she fell for me. OK, maybe ‘tricked’ has inappropriate connotations. How about this: she wasn’t tricked so much as beguiled? Yes. Altogether more apt.

Beguiled. Comparable to ‘bewitched’, with its suggestions of sensuality and enchantment. Certainly, the illusion with which I beguiled her depended, for effect and execution, on intimacy of touch and a semblance of the supernatural. We were in a pub in Oxford, the Eagle and Child; wood panelling, nooks and crannies. We were strangers. I was with my friends, she was with hers. Someone in my group knew someone in hers and, following the complicated rearrangement of tables and chairs, there were thirteen of us seated together. An inauspicious assembly if you’re inclined to superstition, which I am not. I’d noticed Rosa even before the two parties had become one, though I made sure to give no indication of

paying her more, or less, attention than the other newcomers in our smoky, boozy alcove. The positioning of the chairs – I swear I had nothing to do with it, occupied as I was with the transfer of drinks – brought us directly opposite one another. She was smoking Marlboro and drinking Belgian lager straight from the bottle. Her eye shadow was pale green, to match her lipstick. She wore a ring on every finger and on both thumbs.

‘Watch that one, Rosa, he’s a magician,’ said one of my friends as the introductions were completed.

Rosa, drawing deeply on a cigarette, exhaled across the table. ‘There,’ she said, ‘I’ve made him disappear in a puff of smoke.’

Everyone roared at that. Brilliant timing, impeccable delivery. I might’ve reached over and produced a cheese-and-onion crisp from behind her ear, but when you’ve just been upstaged in public the least embarrassing recourse is to play the supporting role with good grace. Besides, a crisp?

So I laughed along with the rest of them. Rosa’s voice was slightly husky, her accent a curious concoction of Irish and London; her eyes and mouth smiled in perfect synchronization, as though she enjoyed nothing more than being made to laugh. She turned to the guy on her left, asking him to pass an ashtray. They fell into conversation, her long black hair snagging now and then on his shoulder as she leaned close to hear him. Me, I drank and talked to my friends and went to the bar and to the toilet. And, with discretion, I observed her hands – all those rings, the emerald nails, the way she held her drink, lit a cigarette. She had long bony fingers and thin wrists engulfed in bracelets and friendship bands and the cuffs of a multicoloured woollen sweater several sizes too big for her. Every fresh bottle of beer, she shredded the label clean off with her thumbnail.

I have magician’s hands. By that, I don’t mean they are the perfect size or shape for my work, because such perfection of design is rare. It helps to have hands large enough to facilitate, say, the concealment of a playing card; but large hands have large fingers, less well suited to the more nimble manipulations. The trick is to adapt. Most anatomical deficiencies of the hand can, within reason, be compensated for by rigorous practice or by appropriate props. (If you’ve got small hands, use a smaller pack of cards.) My hands are neither too large nor too small; what they are is well trained. I have taught myself dexterity and ambidexterity. A speciality in my repertoire of sleights is ‘acquitment’ – the showing of a hand as empty while actually it contains something. Done ineptly, this is known in the profession as ‘hand-washing’. Two tips: one, rehearse in front of a mirror until your movements appear entirely natural; two, never look at your hands while effecting a sleight, because the one place the audience is sure to look is where you’re looking.

Rosa’s hands weren’t magical; for all their conscious disguise of adornment and manipulation, they revealed rather than concealed. I longed to hold them. We’d all been drinking for a while when a familiar appeal issued from the hubbub of overlapping chatter. Hey, Red, show us a trick.

Even my oldest friends do this. You get used to it.

‘I’m playing the Crucible, in Sheffield, next Friday, if you want to come along.’

‘Fuck off and show us a trick.’

‘Fuck off yourself.’

‘What’s this, the Illusion of the Cantankerous Git?’

After a moment or two of this, you give in. And you always involve someone else in the illusion, because they love all that. I’ll need the help of an assistant from the audience; come on, don’t be shy . . . That evening, I made eye contact across the table. Blue irises, green eye shadow  With no perceptible alteration, Rosa’s expression said Don’t even think about it. But the enthusiastic coercion of others as they edged their chairs closer to our table made it more awkward for her to decline than to agree.

‘Go on, then.’ Defiance. Her eyes, her tone of voice, the set of her shoulders said she was prepared to be unimpressed; nothing I could do could possibly surprise or interest her or escape her detection. And if I tried to make her appear foolish I’d fail because she didn’t give a shite what anyone thought of her, least of all me. She smiled. ‘If you’re good, I’ll let you make me a giraffe out of balloons.’

I instructed her to hold out her hands, palms downwards. She did this. I took them in mine and drew them over the centre of the table. Her skin was cool and dry. Releasing her hands, I told her to make fists. She made fists. Everyone was quiet now, watching and listening with rapt attention.

‘You’re a Roman Catholic, right?’ I asked.

‘And there’s you guessing that, with me talking like a Kerrywoman.’

One or two people giggled.

‘Do you believe in the stigmata?’

‘The what?’

‘That we can be marked with the sign of Christ’s suffering on the cross?’

‘Oh, sure.’

I dipped the tip of my right middle finger into the ashtray, piled with the accumulated tappings from her own cigarettes. Displaying the silvery-grey stain at the end of the finger, I declared, ‘By rubbing this into the back of your clenched fist, I shall cause the ash to pass through the hand and appear like a stigma in the centre of your palm.’

Her eyes said Oh, yeah. I kept my face a blank of composed concentration. Placing my fingertip on the back of her right hand, I began massaging the ash gently into the pale skin with a small, circular movement. The bracelets on her wrist clicked against one another as she responded involuntarily to the pressure of my touch. All eyes were focused on the point of contact, where a charcoal smear now blemished the skin.

Rosa glanced up at me, then down again at the back of her hand.

‘Now, Rosa, please unclench your fist and display your hand palm upwards.’

She did as instructed. Her palm was unmarked. Silence gave way to stifled laughs, a groan, a jeer. Rosa caught my eye again, smirking slightly, and I feigned an expression of alarmed incomprehension. She was about to recline in her seat.

‘Are you left-handed?’ I asked suddenly.

She nodded.

‘You are?’

‘Yeah.’

‘In that case, would you unclench your left hand for me?’

It was her turn for puzzlement. Her smile became uncertain. The onlookers had fallen quiet once more, switching attention to her other fist. Rosa uncurled the fingers and, slowly, hesitantly, revolved the palm upwards. In its centre was an unmistakable dab of cigarette ash.

*****

Other Modern Erotic Classics available:

The Houdini Girl by Martyn Bedford

Lie to Me by Tamara Faith Berger

The Phallus of Osiris by Valentina Cilescu

Kiss of Death by Valentina Cilescu

The Flesh Constrained by Cleo Cordell

The Flesh Endures by Cleo Cordell

Hogg by Samuel R. Delany

The Tides of Lust by Samuel R. Delany

Sad Sister by Florence Dugas

The Ties That Bind by Vanessa Duriés

Dark Ride by Kent Harrington

3 by Julie Hilden

Neptune & Surf by Marilyn Jaye Lewis

Violent Silence by Paul Mayersberg

Homme Fatale by Paul Mayersberg

The Agency by David Meltzer

Burn by Michael Perkins

Dark Matter by Michael Perkins

Evil Companions by Michael Perkins

Beautiful Losers by Remittance Girl

Meeting the Master by Elissa Wald

 

 

Welcome Christi Williams

Hi and welcome to my blog, Christi Williams. Please make yourself at home and grab a drink from my hunky cabana boys, Zeke and Jake. 

To get us started can you tell us a little about what you are working on or have coming out?

Thank you. I’m so happy to be here! My new release is a sensual contemporary romance, Take a Chance on Love. Set in Wyoming, it’s the story of Chancie, a widowed businesswoman, and sexy Highway Patrol trooper Micah, who think the biggest problem between them is the baggage they carry from past broken romances. It turns out their biggest challenge is ten years old and lives in Chancie’s house, her son Jamie, who makes it his life goal to break up his mom and her boyfriend.
How would you describe yourself using only five words?

Persistent, positive, lucky, published writer.
If we asked your muse to describe you using five words, what do you think they would say?

Smart, stubborn, luckily published writer!
Name one thing readers would be surprised to know about you.

They might be surprised to know my romances started out hot and sexy, got rewritten as sweet in a failed effort to sell them, and are back to hot and sexy to fit my new publisher’s guidelines.
If your muse were to talk behind your back, what secrets would they tell?

I’ve always been a big reader, and liked writing. But when it came time for college, I couldn’t figure out how a woman who would probably never be a literary giant went about making a living from writing. Beyond journalism, that is, which didn’t interest me at all. So I put off writing formally until I returned to school at the age of 39. Then I churned out several manuscripts in quick succession but couldn’t get anyone interested in publishing them. When the age of Internet publishing exploded all of a sudden publishers were interested in my stories, perhaps because so many writers who would have been submitting to them were instead self-pubbing. Or maybe the stars were aligned correctly, or it was meant for me to look to where my roots are. At any rate, an opportunity to publish with Whiskey Creek Press/Torrid Books, a Wyoming publisher, developed for me when they offered a contract for Take a Chance on Love.

What can readers expect next from you?

I have another sensual contemporary romance set in Wyoming that I just signed to have published. I’m interested in the mythology of the West, the cowboys and lawmen, the iconic animals and ideals. My fiction is contemporary, so the settings and the characters are completely modern and struggle with today’s issues. But the men and women in my writing leave a big footprint, because their personalities and their solutions to problems hark back to the iconic days which really don’t exist anymore. My characters truly live by the Code of the West.

Title: Take a Chance on Love

Genre: Sensual Contemporary Romance

Author: Christi Williams

Release date: April 15, 2013

Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press/Torrid Books

Buy links:

HTML or PDF download  / Kindle /Nook

When Chancie de Leur meets highway patrol trooper Micah Taylor one frosty Wyoming night, instant sexual heat kindles between them. Chancie’s a lonely young widow who owns her own business and Micah is divorced, so there shouldn’t be anything holding them back. But Micah wonders if Chancie’s obvious wealth might become an issue, or the fact that she’s apparently the second woman in his life who has zero interest in ever having his baby.

Micah has no idea of the real problem between him and Chancie, until he meets her son. Ten-year-old Jamie de Leur is determined to break up his mom and her lawman, and Micah questions whether any relationship with Chancie is worth dealing with the spoiled kid she’s raising.

In a showdown over Jamie breaking the law, Micah has to decide if he wants to be Chancie’s cop—or her family man.

Take a Chance on Love excerpt:

He admired Chancie’s guts, but at the same time he had a strong sense of regret. Was it possible she just didn’t know when to give up? He couldn’t face Jamie’s hostility for the rest of his life, or even for a few years until the kid was ready to leave home. Micah couldn’t be the one to make Chancie choose between her son and her lover. Even at this moment, Jamie was missing and she felt she had to sit here and explain, making a choice between the boy and the man. Micah didn’t want to go on feeling guilty for tearing Chancie apart.

His sense of fairness was violated by the situation. If it had been another man vying for Chancie’s affection, he might have relished the fight. But Micah Taylor wouldn’t go on battling a ten-year-old boy.

When he didn’t answer her right away, Chancie said apprehensively, “What are you thinking, Micah?”

Could he tell her he thought she would lose her bet with herself? She was so brave, a formidable contender who could take it on the chin and come back for more. He had a much clearer picture of her now and liked her more than when he had thought her lavishly wealthy. He admired her grit, but he couldn’t let her go on thinking he was in her corner when he was backing out of the ring.

“I’m thinking you’re the most courageous lady I’ve ever met in my life,” he finally answered truthfully.

“But you also think I’m being too optimistic.” It wasn’t a question.

He squeezed her upper arms. How could he give her up now? But he had to. “Chancie, Jamie hates me. I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon.”

Her green eyes flared. She jerked her arms away, breathing heavily. “Micah Taylor,” she said in a low voice, “you are really starting to piss me off. Don’t you dare give up on me. You’re coming to Christmas dinner tomorrow. You promised.”

“And you’re going to hold me to it, come hell or high water.” He smiled sadly. He was going to miss her spunk as much as her fiery kisses and her sweet body responding instantly to his touch, although those memories would be enough to ensure many a sleepless night.

“You bet I’m holding you to it.” She checked the time, muttered a curse. “I’ve got to get back to Parker. Would you just kiss me, Micah? For luck?”

 

Author links:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/christi.williams.writer

Facebook book page: https://www.facebook.com/writerchristi?ref=hl

Twitter: @writerchristi https://twitter.com/WriterChristi

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/16663492-christi-williams

Google+: Christi Williams

blog: Some Like It Hotter http://writerchristi.blogspot.com/

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/writerchristi/

LibraryThing: http://www.librarything.com/home/writerchristi

 

 

VBT Stop for Fiona McGier/Contest

For the Love of His Life by Fiona McGier

Contemporary Erotic Romance

Categories: Interracial/Multicultural

Publisher: Eternal Press

Release Date: May 1, 2013

Heat Level: Steamy

Word Count: 81,600 words

Buy Link

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/For-Love-His-Life-ebook/dp/B00CMHMGXI/ 

Description

Can a sexy Hispanic action movie star find himself in the BWCA of upper Minnesota? Will the local woman he grows to love believe someone who “lies for a living”?

When the famous action movie star Raul Roderick needs to “clean-up” for a major role that even he doubts he can deliver, the director sends him up to a resort owned by his grandmother in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area of upper Minnesota, to learn to commune with nature.  His guide is Veronica, the director’s cousin, a tall, athletic woman who has the relaxed, sensible nature of someone who knows herself well.

Raul hasn’t been this far from his reliable drug-dealers for a very long time, and dealing with real-life is something he’s never been very good at. His initial clumsy attempt to seduce her makes her laugh…so he calls her fat. Is there any hope that their relationship will progress beyond its rocky start? And can Raul overcome his partying nature to discover what is really important in life?

Warning: This title is intended for readers over the age of 18 as it contains adult sexual situations (including a f/f/m ménage scene/scenes in the first chapter) and/or adult language, and may be considered offensive to some readers.

Teaser Excerpt:

Scene Set Up: Raul tries to convince Veronica that he’s fallen in love with her.

When they got back to the truck, Veronica hit the clicker before moving around to the back to toss her backpack into it.  Raul followed and did the same with the one he’d been carrying.  She pushed the back end of the truck back up and walked around to get into the drivers’ seat.  Raul got into the passenger side and they both pulled their doors closed.  There was silence for a long moment.

“Come back to my cabin with me,” Raul urged in what he hoped was a persuasive voice.

Veronica shook her head without looking at him.

“I can’t!  You know that!  Gram Marie would see us and have a shit-fit!”

Raul leaned over the console and put his hand over Veronica’s hand that was gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were white.

“Then take me back to your place,” he said in a low voice.  Her eyes widened as she turned to look at him and he added, “Please.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going crazy from how much I want you.  I’ve never made love to a woman before.  I need to know how we will feel together.”

Veronica spat out a laugh that sounded more like a sob.

“If you’re gonna lie to me, you’d better get more blood back into your brain first.  How can you expect me to believe you?  You’ve probably had sex with half of Hollywood, and fucked your way across the country by now.”

Raul’s face grew more serious.

“Yes, I have.  But I’ve never even bothered to learn the names of the women I’ve had.  What did it matter?  They were only after one thing, and so was I.  Once that was over, and they could brag about fucking Raul Roderick, our business was done.”

He heard her intake of breath, staggered, like she was trying not to cry.

He reached his hand up and turned her face toward him.

“Look at me, Nica.  Look into my eyes so you can see I’m not lying to you.  I won’t ever lie to you.  I’ve never had real feelings for any other woman before.  I don’t even know how to seduce you.  I don’t want to insult you with any of the moves I’ve used with so little thought before.  I don’t want you to think this means nothing to me.  It means everything.”

“Is this a new seduction strategy for you?  Are you just trying it out on me, to see if it will work?”  Her voice held layers of insecurity, and there were tears in her eyes, and that was too much for him to bear.

Raul sat back in his seat and folded his hands in his lap.

“No,” he said in a flat, monotone voice.  “I don’t know how to convince you that I’m not feeding you a line.  I’m not very good at speaking from my heart, because I don’t know how.  I’ve never done it before.  But please drive us away from here, so we won’t be seen by any inquiring minds who want to know what’s going on.”

Veronica sat and stared ahead of her for a minute before taking a deep breath.  She turned the key and started the truck and pulled carefully out of the parking lot.  She turned left and headed south on the Gunflint Trail, back towards all of the places they knew.

Raul tried hard not to give in to depression, but he could feel himself beginning to wallow in it.  As a child he had hated those feelings so much that he pretended they didn’t exist…as if he was someone else.  That had always made his loneliness and pain easier to bear.  But now?

I don’t know how to reach her.  Anything I say, she’ll think is a line.  I’m in love for the first time in my life, and there’s nothing I can do or say to convince her of that.  I’m an asshole and I don’t deserve any better. 

Raul stared down at the hands folded in his lap and felt self-hatred gnawing at his soul.

 About the Author:

Fiona has always had stories in her head. Characters intrude into her thoughts and insist on showing her scenes from their lives. She discovered that when she ignores them, they start to yell louder; if she writes their stories and they can live in readers’ heads as well, they usually leave her alone. Only to be replaced by a new group of story-tellers. Her head is usually a very crowded place, but she likes it that way. Visit Fiona at www.fionamcgier.com.

Giveaway Info:
Prize is 5 $5 Dunkin Donut Gift Cards from Fiona McGier (1 each to 5 winners). Contest is tour-wide and ends May 20. Must be 18 years of age or older to enter.

Follow the tour at http://www.cblspromotions.com/2013/05/blogbarrage-for-love-of-his-life-by.html

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Welcome E. Jamie

 Alpha vs. Beta by E. Jamie

Romance novels are full of all kinds of delicious heroes! Cops, soldiers, firefighters, cowboys, business tycoons, chefs, teachers, scientists, musicians, doctors etc. Some of those in that list are what we have termed ‘alphas’ and some are ‘betas’. Which do you like best? What’s the difference?

In the most general definition, alphas are known to be strong, dominating, take charge type of men. Others have a subtler strength. They are the hot neighbour next door who teaches at the local high school or the best friend who you’ve all of a sudden started looking at very differently. Both can be equally delicious, depending on the kind of story you like, or even the kind of story you’re in the mood for at that time. I call myself an alpha lover for the most part. I love those men who are hard on the outside, who’ve had to cultivate an emotional distance usually because of some trauma in their past. It has made them appear hard and control is everything for them.

But I also like the story of the quiet scientist who hides a sexy, wild side. I love reading about the guy next door who teaches at the local elementary school who’s all of a sudden the star in some very sexy dreams in his best friend’s nights, or the grieving widower who slowly learns to love a woman again.

I would call the hero in my historical erotic romance The Affair, the second book in my Resistance trilogy, Friedrich Weiss, a beta forced into the alpha mold. He entered the German army full of ambition and bravado, wanting a fully decorated military career. But when we first meet him in Resistance Book One-The Arrangement, he is a man living in a very precarious hell. The war has become something he no longer believes in and yet he is trapped in his role, having to keep up a horrific pretense if he wants to save his people.

He no longer wants glory. He wants only peace. His alpha-ness is now a cloak he has to wear when at his heart; he wants nothing more than a quiet life with the woman he loves and their daughter. But he must remain strong. He must continue to fight. He must continue to move in the world of violence and power to save his love, Elsa, from those who would destroy her.

Follow Friedrich and Elsa’s passionate, heart wrenching journey in the first two books of the Resistance trilogy available now at all major online retailers!

Resistance Book One- The Arrangement: Elsa Mostek is a young Jewish woman who is forced to move with her family from the Warsaw Ghetto in Poland to the Auschwitz concentration camp in 1943. She immediately draws the attention of Nazi Officer Friedrich Weiss who inexplicably shows favor towards her and helps her escape harm many times thanks to the power he wields in the camp. Aware that many of her fellow female prisoners are bartering their bodies for survival and in desperation to save her starving family, Elsa makes an offer to Friedrich.

What Elsa does not know is that Friedrich is a spy with the German Resistance that has infiltrated the Nazi regime. He must keep up the pretense of loyalty to Hitler’s cause as he sends secrets to those on the outside. Friedrich doesn’t want to take advantage of Elsa but can’t help wanting her. As the misery of his position increases, she offers him the only light left in a world of darkness and despite his best intentions, Friedrich gives in to her offer. Passion explodes between them, giving them a reprieve from the monstrous world they inhabit, though both know it can never last.

Resistance Book Two-The Affair: Elsa Mostek Friedman has built a good life for herself and her daughter, Catherine. A life of privilege and wealth. It’s a life that’s a far cry from her humble beginnings in a Polish village. It’s a life built on lies, because while she adores her husband, David, it’s another man who haunts her dreams. It’s another man her body yearns for: Catherine’s father, the German Resistance spy Friedrich Weiss, who infiltrated the Nazi regime. Their love was forged in the horrors of Auschwitz and when Friedrich helped Elsa escape, it was to build the very life she has now.

Now Friedrich has returned and Elsa is torn between her love for her husband and all the security he provides, and the love she has for Friedrich, who is still a hunted man. Elsa and Friedrich have no future, but passion explodes between them, hotter than ever. And for all their noble intentions, for all their fears of discovery, neither can stay away from the other. Elsa walks a knife-edge line between both men as she also tries to protect the secrets she’s kept for over six years.  But there are others who know Elsa’s secrets and they too have returned to make sure the carefully constructed world she’s built explodes in a rain of violence and vengeance that will only be appeased when everything Elsa holds dear is destroyed.

 About the Author

A self confessed ‘city girl’ E. Jamie lives in TorontoCanada and loves roaming the streets of her vibrant city to feed her muse. She loves penning passionate tales that leave the bedroom door wide open! She enjoys writing across all erotic sub genres from contemporary to historicals! In her spare time she wishes she had more time to read, explore her city, watch TV and dish up some delicious creations. Cooking feeds both the culinary and writing muse and she is also going to be working on a non-fiction cookbook soon! She’s always thrilled to hear from her readers at her website www.authorejamie.wordpress.com on facebook www.facebook.com/authorejamie and twitter www.twitter.com/authorejamie

 

Welcome Tawny Weber today

Midnight Special by Tawny Weber

Purchase Links:

-    All About Romance

-    Amazon

-    Barnes & Noble

-    Books-A-Million

-    Harlequin

-    Powells

-    iTunes

Somewhere on the train is a key witness for a crime involving arson, murder and a high-profile businessman. And reporter Marni Clare will do whatever it takes to get the story—even if it means crashing in a sleeper car that’s she’s not sure she’s reserved. But when she wakes, she finds herself curled up with the man she’s seeking…and he’s hot enough to derail all her plans!

FBI special agent Hunter won’t complain about the wickedly hot blonde in his arms. And maybe it’s the medication he’s on, but he’s even agreed to share his room for the entire journey….

It’s a long trip in close quarters, and within days their berth becomes the scene of some steamy railway romps. But is Marni just having fun…or is she taking Hunter for a ride?

Teaser Excerpt:

After a couple of seconds of his death stare, Marni’s smile drooped, then she bit her lip and looked away.

There. He still had it.

The ability to intimidate sweet women. He’d bet he could make babies cry and puppies whimper, too.

“You look grumpy.”

Hunter scowled.

“Really grumpy,” she decided, closing the lid of her laptop, setting it aside and getting to her feet. She glanced at the clock on the wall, then at her watch as if to verify the time. “I’ll bet you’re hungry. We haven’t had anything but coffee in two hours. Want to get breakfast?”

“Look, I can’t do this roommate thing. It was nice enough of you to offer to share, but it’s just not going to work.”

“So you’re leaving?”

“No, you are.”

Her cupid’s bow mouth dropped open and she stared for so long, he wanted to blow on her face to make her blink.

“It’s my berth. I was in it first. Out of the goodness of my heart, I offered to share it with you. So why would I give it up?”

Hunter considered flashing his FBI badge and going the national security route. But he was seriously tired. Tired and sore and empty. He needed a little downtime. He had a week to build a case that would put away the head of one of the biggest criminal organizations on the east coast. He wasn’t going to do that with people bugging him, asking FBI questions and passing him in the hallway muttering “the truth is out there.”

 

Giveaway Information~

Tawny will be awarding a bookmark goodie package to one commenter at each stop (bookmark, signed cover flat, post it pad, magnet) and a grand prize of a $25 Amazon / BN (or other bookstore of the winner’s choice) GC to one randomly drawn commenter during this tour and her other Book Blast on May 9th.

Follow the tour and comment; the more  comments you leave, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2013/04/super-book-blast-2-midnight-special-by.html

About the Author…

Tawny Weber has been writing sassy, sexy romances since her first Harlequin Blaze hit the shelves in 2007.  A fan of Johnny Depp, cupcakes and color coordination, she spends a lot of her time shopping for cute shoes, scrapbooking and hanging out on Facebook.

Readers can check out Tawny’s books at her website or join her Red Hot Readers Club for goodies like free reads, complete first chapter excerpts, recipes, insider story info and much more.  And for a limited time, she has a few open spots on her Street Team!

Social Links:

Website – http://tawnyweber.com

Facebook – http://www.facebook.com/TawnyWeber.RomanceAuthor

Twitter –  https://twitter.com/TawnyWeber

Pinterest – http://pinterest.com/tawnyweber/

Midnight Special link:   http://tawnyweber.com/books/midnight-special/

Release blitz for Evil Companions by Michael Perkins

Evil Companions by Michael Perkins

We had gotten aboard a roller coaster, and it was a race for our lives, on a one-way track.

In New York City during the heady, tumultuous years of the 1960s, a young couple meet. Together they embark on a dark erotic journey into forbidden sexuality – travelling on an incandescent road to nowhere in their tragic fall from grace.

Scorching and poignant, and banned upon its first publication in England, Evil Companions is a masterpiece of contemporary erotica.

‘Evil Companions is a meticulous miracle of language and observation . . . A dark jewel on the erotic landscape.’ Samuel R. Delany

Available from:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B009EP84CI/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1634&creative=19450&creativeASIN=B009EP84CI&linkCode=as2&tag=lucyfelthouse-21

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B009EP84CI/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B009EP84CI&linkCode=as2&tag=lucyfelt-20

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-evilcompanionsmoderneroticclassics-1019156-144.html?referrer=6bdb1f9160564c0525b41f36e51861a0

*****

Excerpt:

Some of what happened to us, what we did to each other, might have been prevented. But we had gotten aboard a roller coaster, and it was a race for our lives, on a one-way track.

Circumstances, the mood of the time, made our explorations seem natural, forecast in all our stars. Most of them I haven’t seen in years, and wouldn’t care to—except for Anne, that is. I’ve waited for her to come back, to finish the story. Maybe she won’t because it doesn’t have an end, or because neither of us wants it to end.

Our life together was a story we told each other at night, and we were always careful to consider the obligations of plot and character. Anne, especially, watched the dialogue and considered speech patterns, having decided that the nuances of conversation and sound often tell the listener more than a character would ordinarily want to tell. I had the same feeling about faces. We did more than tell each other stories at night, though; we lived our whole lives then, like—vampires. History is made at night, said Frank Borzage.

We met during rehearsals of a play I was doing in a café theatre on the East Side. She sat at a table on the side sipping coffee through a straw, and she looked ready to scream. She was with friends, some people I knew slightly and hated. It was obvious she was with them, but not of them. They ignored each other. The play was dingy and amateurish, and I became quite loud in my objections to it; I had the lead, but I had taken it in desperation, looking for anything to rouse me from my lethargy. The actress I was working with missed her cue for the third time and I exploded, cursing her, the director, and the script, which I felt no affinity with.

Something hit me in the middle of the back—the girl at the table had thrown her coffee at me. I stood frozen, feeling the hot liquid run down my back.

“You fucking faggot son-of-a-bitch! You actor! If you weren’t so goddamned illiterate, you could handle that script!” Everyone just looked at her. As quickly as she had flared up, she calmed down, and sank back into her seat. She looked so embarrassed she might have sunk into the floor.

I didn’t say anything; I went to the men’s room and cleaned myself off as well as I could. Then I sat on the toilet and smoked a cigarette. When I got up, I went straight to her table. She got up to join me without a word.

“Come on, let’s take a walk,” I said. It was already dark outside. I hadn’t realized I had been working so long. She had a peculiar gait, like a sailor’s; we walked along. “Did I hurt you?” she asked me. “Let me see.” She pushed me in a doorway and slipped her hand around so she could feel my back. Her hand slipped up under my coat and over my buttocks with a man’s urgent touch. “You’re still wet. Come home with me and you can get dried off.” It was practically a command. She took my hand as if it were already a part of her, ready to pull me along if I hesitated.

The building she lived in was one part tenement and two parts gingerbread house. I went galumphing up the stairs behind her, noticing the runs in her stockings. She wore stocking with seams down the back, those clay-colored things my mother used to wear.

Her apartment had its own particular smell, an aromatic combination I have never been able to forget: a hideous incense called Dhoop, marijuana, and an exciting odor of pure, raw sex,

mixed with the smell of her cats. She had five of them; the leader was an old gray tom she called Wino, who was missing one eye and any sense of decorum. I learned that it wasn’t unusual for him to leap on guests with his claws out, or to urinate in the middle of the floor and stand there proudly, daring you to rebuke him. I wanted to call him Jean Genet.

She still had my hand. She pulled me in the bedroom, but it was occupied by a young Puerto Rican who was rolling his eyes at the ceiling. As soon as he saw us, he rolled off and staggered out into the other room.

“Sit down and take off your pants.” I sat on the bed and watched her move around. She seemed unconscious of my presence as she took off her clothes. When she was naked in the red light she sat down beside me and, without a word, unbuckled my belt and pulled my trousers off.

“Don’t be uptight. You’re an actor, aren’t you? Here’s a situation you can play your heart out in.”

“Meaning you?”

“Oh man, don’t be muley! You act like a thick head  It’s hot in here, take off those damn clothes. I don’t trust anybody in clothes.” I did what she asked. My scrotum was tight and wrinkled, and I felt like washing my feet. I noticed that hers were black. Her breasts were small and sharp, the nipples blood red.

She noticed me looking at them.

“Touch. Go on. Then maybe you’ll feel better,” she said dispassionately. I dragged my underwear over my crotch and sat back, away from her. “What’s the matter? Is my hostility

showing?” she asked.

“Turn it off,” I said.

“Turn what off?”

“Whatever the fuck this game is. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Anne, sometimes.”

“Well, Anne, what’s the game? I thought you hated me. It was a bad script.”

“If you thought that, you wouldn’t have come home with me. You’re out in the cold. I could tell that when I first saw you.”

*****

Other Modern Erotic Classics available:

The Houdini Girl by Martyn Bedford

Lie to Me by Tamara Faith Berger

The Phallus of Osiris by Valentina Cilescu

Kiss of Death by Valentina Cilescu

The Flesh Constrained by Cleo Cordell

The Flesh Endures by Cleo Cordell

Hogg by Samuel R. Delany

The Tides of Lust by Samuel R. Delany

Sad Sister by Florence Dugas

The Ties That Bind by Vanessa Duriés

Dark Ride by Kent Harrington

3 by Julie Hilden

Neptune & Surf by Marilyn Jaye Lewis

Violent Silence by Paul Mayersberg

Homme Fatale by Paul Mayersberg

The Agency by David Meltzer

Burn by Michael Perkins

Dark Matter by Michael Perkins

Evil Companions by Michael Perkins

Beautiful Losers by Remittance Girl

Meeting the Master by Elissa Wald

 

Book Spotlight~Michael Mandrake’s I Like Em’ Pretty

I Like Em’ Pretty (N’awlins Exotica #1) by Michael Mandrake

Erotic M/M Contemporary Romantic Suspense

Categories: Interracial/Multicultural

Publisher: Triad Literary

Heat Level: Steamy

Word Count: 70,000

Buy Links

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Like-Pretty-Nawlins-Exotica-ebook/dp/B00C8T4JQM/

ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-ilike039emprettyn039awlinsexoticabookone-1152601-145.html

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/303665

Description

The city of New Orleans is rich in tradition, diverse, and known for the inspiration it provides. In the “Big Easy” there lies the hunger for the erotic as well as the unknown. The residents here feel that sexual energy and it reveals itself through their various creative activities. 

Join the characters as they take a wild ride on the edge, enjoying their town for all it has to offer. There’s a certain magic in the air, an erotic magic that cannot be ignored.

New Orleans is supposed to be the big easy. One night changes everything for Frankie Choteau.

New Orleans. A city rich in tradition, diversity, and on the comeback trail from hurricane Katrina. Francois “Frankie” Choteau, a resident of this town, a cop with a hot temper and low tolerance for bs. Kajika Fortier, a transplant from Oklahoma came here looking for a dream and unfortunately it’s turned into a nightmare. On a hot summer night, they meet and cross paths during a very difficult situation. Despite this, the attraction between them is evident and loneliness for both men is a fate worse than death. They’d both like a chance at happiness but will the circumstances and Frankie’s uneasiness prevent their happy ever after? 

Warning: This title is intended for readers over the age of 18 as it contains adult sexual situations and/or adult language, and may be considered offensive to some readers.

 Teaser Excerpt:

“Damn!” Francois Choteau yelled at the top of his lungs. His favorite coffee cup—the one that read ‘My job is to find the killer’—slipped from his tight grip. It was his mother’s last gift to him before her passing. She always knew exactly what to get him for Christmas.

“Ah, Frankie, can’t you do anything without dropping stuff? Ya klutz!” Kenina Porter rushed to his side. She bumped him with her large frame as she attempted to assist him in the cleanup.

“Damn, woman, you’re dressing kind of sexy these days. Who you going after?” Frankie noticed the low-cut black blouse underneath the same color blazer showed ample pale cleavage. 

“Someone who works here with me and claims to play for the other team.” Kenina wrinkled her lips. Her nasally New York accent came out whenever something angered her. “You’re lucky this didn’t break into a million pieces, Frankie. Your mama might’ve came out of the grave haunting your ass!”

Frankie grinned and tilted his head to the side. “You’re right about that, Kenie. My mama always gave me grief about having butta fingers. Wasn’t really my fault, though. It’s hot as hell in this mother! My hands feel like they been drenched in water!” Frankie wiped his brow and sighed. The air conditioner was running full blast, but it didn’t seem to do a thing about the summer heat in New Orleans. Temps in the low hundreds and high humidity made living in the Big Easy practically unbearable.

“Yeah, it is, but you still drinking hot coffee.” She grimaced and shook her head. “Not even iced, Frankie!” She dropped paper towels on the floor and smeared them over the spilled beverage. While toeing the rags with her heel, she handed Frankie his most prized possession.

Frankie set it inside his desk, out of harm’s way. “I got to, baby. It’s the only thing keeping me awake. We been working on this fucking Metairie murder case nonstop for over a month with no damn leads. Nobody’s talking so we can bring these fuckers to justice.”

“Nope.” Kenina nodded and knelt to pick up the trash from the floor. “Be more careful with your drink next time, man. Leslie just scrubbed these floors, and you know she’ll curse you out in her native tongue if she finds out you spilled something.”

“Yeah, I know.” Frankie rubbed the nape of his neck, attempting to get out the kinks. Homicide cases were piling up quicker than detectives could keep count, especially since the precinct was located in the middle of a crime hotbed. Due to the amount of work and the low pay, most detectives moved on to another line of investigation or left altogether, but not Frankie and his partner Kenina, who’d started at the police academy together. They’d been through thick and thin for the past ten years. Frankie considered the redheaded vixen to be his best friend, his girlfriend, and at times the momma he didn’t have. Kenina Porter showed more loyalty than any man he’d ever had and he’d always stick by her side.

“Well, yeah, you know, but…” She stood with her hands on her hips. “You still aren’t being all that careful.”

“I was, woman!” Frankie frowned in her direction and propped his feet up on the corner of his desk. “You right, you right, I’m a klutz but I’ll have you know, I’m tired as hell, ain’t fucked anyone in over three months and, on top of that, I’m not getting a lot of sleep!”

“Shhh!” Kenina glanced from left to right and scolded him for being so loud. “What the fuck’s wrong with you, Frankie! You wanna get found out? You can’t say shit without people calling you on it in this department.”

Frankie waved his hand. “I know, Kenie, I’m just…” Frankie leaned back and blew raspberries. His head slipped down from the top of the chair and tears welled up in his eyes. “I’m so tired of hiding, babe. It’s hard being…” Frankie mouthed gay. “And not able to tell the people you work with.”

“Well, you could, but it might be more trouble than it’s worth. I don’t mind keeping up the charade for you, love. You know you my boy and I’d do anything for you!” Kenina sat on the edge of the desk and stroked his shoulder.

“I appreciate that, Kenie, I really do. Too bad you ain’t got the right equipment, woman, because I’d date you for real!”

 About the Author:

Michael Mandrake pens complex characters who are already comfortable in their sexuality. Thorough these characters, he builds worlds not centered on erotica but rather the mainstream plots we might encounter in everyday life through personal experiences or the media. To find out more please visit http://tabooindeed.blogspot.com.

Connect with Michael Mandrake

Email: michaelmandrake71@gmail.com

Website: http://thelitriad.com

Michael’s Blog: http://tabooindeed.blogspot.com

N’awlins Exotica/Paranormal on FB: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Nawlins-Exotica-Series/126864880830524

The Literary Triad on FB: https://www.facebook.com/TheLiteraryTriad?fref=ts

Giveaway Info:
Prize is $15 Starbucks GC, a copy of Magic Mike, a mug and other New Orleans themed items. Contest is tour-wide and ends May 14. Must be 18 years of age or older to enter.

Follow the book barrage schedule at http://www.cblspromotions.com/2013/05/blogbarrage-i-like-em-pretty-nawlins.html

To enter the contest, fill out the raffelcopter below

a Rafflecopter giveaway