Thursday, 29 August 2013

Guest Blogger David Russell Presents his Newest Release


The hero, Percival arranges a date through a contact mag. He and Darlene have a rapturous scenario, handled with superb finesse and supreme command of the wardrobe. He finds some hints of her complicated past. Before and after the encounter, he is eyed up and accosted by malicious-seeming men. The sense of an underlying hornet’s nest is scary, and immediately detracts from the euphoria, which does finally prevail.

Excerpt

I envisaged Darlene dressing before her mirror, adoring her own image, caressing her thighs as she drew up her stockings, loving her own image in the mirror, savouring her own fully charged magnetism. I imagined delicious dressing in preparation for delicious undressing – perhaps some feeling in her bones that I might be someone out of the ordinary, or even an additional bonus of doing it with another woman before my eyes.

I, in turn, practiced disrobing in front of my mirror, in subdued light, capturing all the alluring angles, savouring myself under the dream spell of her implicit eyes. I sensed the bleeps of telepathy in operation between us—laser-beamed gazes and breaths of rapture.

I spiced my sensations with my favourite videos. Katy Perry’s Thinking of You and Teenage Dream came to the fore, those graceful balletic of revelation, pulling on the stockings, pulling off the jeans, my hands all over that lithe, tanned form. I washed, ironed, and immersed myself into putting on and taking off all the items in my wardrobe. I even had some limbering up chats on the phone – some alluring voices there, even more magical for their anonymity and their covert location. Those blind rehearsals sharpened the visual and tactile imagination. Some aspects suit complete darkness, others suit subdued light. Maybe at some point, there will be a home video, capturing idyllic trysts indoors and outdoors, two lovers willing themselves into dream perfection…great art is often a substitute or reminder for experience. How much more fulfilling when it is an accompaniment or a backdrop

David Russell - eXtasy Books
www.extasybooks.com/index.php?route=product/author&author_id...

About David Russell

b. 1940. Resident in the UK. Writer of poetry, literary criticism, speculative fiction and romance. Main poetry collection Prickling Counterpoints (1998); poems published in online International Times. Main speculative works High Wired On (2002); Rock Bottom (2005). Romances: Self’s Blossom; Explorations; Further Explorations; Therapy Rapture; Darlene (all pub Extasy (Devine Destinies). Singer-songwriter/guitarist. Main CD albums Bacteria Shrapnel and Kaleidoscope Concentrate. Many tracks on You Tube, under ‘Dave Russell’




Wednesday, 28 August 2013

Special Guest - Denyse Bridger



Thank you for having me on Outrageous! Hunter's Game is currently the 4th of my titles to enter the Top 10 Best-sellers on the New Dawning Book Fair site - this is one of the hottest paranormal titles I've ever written. If you like your vampires dark, lethal, and oh so sexy, check out this short novella.... or STOLEN RAPTURE, also from New Dawning.


HUNTERS’ GAME
(Vampire, erotic, ménage, Dom/s)
ARe 

Blurb: In modern Toronto, two vampires stalk the night, their hunting a game that is seductive and deadly. In a darkly compelling Goth Club, they find the prey they seek for their pleasures, and the night runs crimson with blood and unquenchable thirsts....

Excerpt:

Inside, the bar was murky. Her vision flared with preternatural sharpness, defining shapes and shadows with vivid clarity. The stairwell echoed weirdly, distorting sound with the hammering beat of the music and she almost floated into the dark room.

At the top of the stairs, she paused again. Her heartbeat quickened with each step she took closer to contact with Demetri. The fiery red fixture hanging from the ceiling sent tendrils of light spiraling outward, crimson streaks glinted off chrome, absorbed by the shadows. A powerful strobe turned the dancers into frantic marionettes as the madness of primal music carried them into their own private darkness.

A flicker of reddish blond hair caught her eye and her vampiric sight pierced the murky atmosphere, saw him smile at her from across the room. Already her body hummed with the knowledge that his hands would soon be on her skin, inciting a hunger that no one else could feed.

She brushed past the few who lingered near the top of the stairs, and skirted the metal bars that gave the place such a distinctive look. By the time she reached where he’d been, he’d vanished. Grinding her teeth, she whirled around and studied the crowd. Again, his pale presence drew her. One arched eyebrow rose in amused challenge.

“Your game is intriguing, love,” she whispered. He’d hear her despite the deafening music.

And which role do you prefer to play? Predator or prey? His answer whispered inside her head, and she grinned.

What does it matter? It always ends the same and I have never objected.

“Can I get you a drink?”

She started, and reluctantly looked away from her lover. The newcomer was tall and thin, dressed in black pants and vest over a starkly white shirt. He had shoulder-length hair that haloed a face that reflected both innocence and sensual knowledge. He was rather exquisite.

She nodded and allowed him to guide her to the bar. She accepted a glass of red wine and strolled toward the central row of tables. As expected, the boy followed her, but she stopped at the half-wall bordering the dance floor instead of moving into the shadows where tables afforded more privacy. She leaned on the wide ledge that acted as a counter, and peered at the gyrating dancers who turned the area into a roiling sea of color.

“You’re very beautiful,” the young man whispered.

“Thank you,” she replied into his ear. “What is your name?”

“Felix. You are?”

“Cliantha.” She searched the room for Demetri. The tingle within her began to fan outward, heat and longing growing more intense with each moment that he denied her. She looked up at Felix, her fingers trailing lightly over his arm. She leaned into him, creating a small circle of intimacy around them as she angled her body toward him.

Cliantha?

She closed her eyes and shuddered, her body aching with arousal. Demetri’s voice inside her head was a caress, a promise of passion and madness to be indulged at their whim. His displeasure at her companion’s attention amused her, but she wasn’t foolish enough to disregard his annoyance. She smiled at the boy. Before she could utter a sound, Demetri appeared at her back.

“My love,” she murmured as he pushed aside the collar of her silk jacket and lowered his lips to the bared curve of her neck. A flush crawled up her spine and quivered in her stomach as she arched into him.

“Go.” The boy fled at Demetri’s quiet command.

Cliantha writhed when he pulled her hips snug to his.

“Why did you want to come here, Demetri?” Her voice became breathless as their bodies moved in subtle rhythm with the blaring music. She tried to turn, but he refused her movement.

Demetri’s hands shifted, slid under her jacket, and covered her breasts. His fingers teased rigid nipples, tugging the sensitive tips as he pressed more tightly to her. She guided his left hand to her thigh, making him murmur his approval. She raised her foot to the footrest then leaned away from him, invitation blatant.

He hesitated, so she moved his hand between her legs, shaking in anticipation of what he’d do when he encountered bare skin. Demetri’s right hand splayed across her stomach, held her immobile as he penetrated her moist depths, fingers burrowing into her flesh as she tried not to cry out her pleasure. She quaked in his arms, thrilled to his touch, her body caught in the crossfire of bloodlust and the desperate need to have him inside her.

“Fuck me, Demetri.” She cared nothing of their surroundings.

“In front of all these mortals?” His words were soft with amusement, reminding her of furtive glances being cast in their direction. Demetri’s expert fingers teased, gliding over hyper-sensitive flesh as he kissed the side of her neck and his tongue caressed the throbbing vein at the base.

“Tell me what you want, slut.” His voice was a commanding rasp next to her ear. His fingers pushed deeper into her pussy, sliding in and out in a rapid rhythm, while his thumb toyed with her clit.

“I have,” she gasped. “As talented as your fingers are, I want your cock. Fuck me until I can’t stand up!”

He bit into her neck, just enough to draw a drop or two of blood. His growl made her breath catch, and she moaned, her cunt clenching his stroking fingers. “Please... Demetri...”



STOLEN RAPTURE 
Genres: Erotic/vampire/ménage/ D/s

Blurb: When work brings Deluna Jordan face to face with a man who knows her better than she knows herself, she soon discovers he shares everything with his boss, including lovers…and a thirst for blood…and she is about to become the lucky recipient of all their desires…



Denysé

"Live the Romance, Become the Fantasy..."
** Predators & Editors Best Author 2012 **
** Best-Selling Author of 2011 **
Bound By Passion (adult content)

Tuesday, 27 August 2013

Pinterest by Lily Harlem




I'm a sucker for Pinterest, a wonderful way to waste time! Check out Grand Slam's dedicated page and enjoy some seriously steamy pictures!



Blurb

California had seduced me with promises of a new life working at Los Carlos Tennis Academy. What I didn’t expect was the dark, brooding number one seed, Travis Connolly, resisting my help. He wasn’t interested in my psychology skills, instead his attention was drawn to the edgy, sharper corners of my desires, proving that they existed, setting me challenges and driving me crazy to the point of combustion.

I’m the best tennis player in the world—officially—so why would I need a damn woman full of psychobabble to get me on form? Despite my irritation however, I couldn’t resist pushing Marie Sherratt’s buttons even though doing that showed her the darkest shades of my lust, the parts of me I buried deep. So I set her a challenge, one she rose to, one that had me rising too, and before long my game was relying on her calling the shots, hitting the target and bending to my will. One thing was certain, being not just master of the court, but also of Marie was seriously good for my soul.



Monday, 26 August 2013

FREE! Anything for Him by Lily Harlem and Natalie Dae


ANYTHING FOR HIM by myself and Natalie Dae is FREE on Amazon UK! Watch out, though, this novel is dark and edgy and takes obsession to new extremes!




Saturday, 24 August 2013

The Mating Ritual

My first paranormal erotic romance comes out the middle of November, and is my last release for 2013. There will be a cover reveal promotion before its release, and sign-ups are going on now. I'm including the link for those of you who would like to participate. Thank you in advance.

Sign Up

Friday, 23 August 2013

Grand Slam by Lily Harlem and Lucy Felthouse - OUT TODAY!


GRAND SLAM, THE FIRST NOVEL IN THE RAW TALENT SERIES WRITTEN BY MYSELF AND LUCY FELTHOUSE IS OUT TODAY!

GRAND SLAM IS ALL ABOUT SUPER SEXY TENNIS ACE TRAVIS CONNOLLY AND HIS SPORTS PSYCHOLOGIST MARIE SHERRATT. THINGS GET HOT ON COURT BUT OFF COURT, IT'S GAME, SET AND MATCH IN THE MOST SKILLED OF WAYS, AND YES, IT'S BDSM!




California had seduced me with promises of a new life working at Los Carlos Tennis Academy. What I didn’t expect was the dark, brooding number one seed Travis Connolly resisting my help. He wasn’t interested in my psychology skills. Instead his attention was drawn to the edgy, sharper corners of my desires, proving that they existed, setting me challenges and driving me crazy to the point of combustion.

I’m the best tennis player in the world—officially—so why would I need a damn woman full of psychobabble to get me on form? Despite my irritation, however, I can’t resist pushing Marie Sherratt’s buttons, even though doing so shows her the darkest shades of my lust, the parts of me I bury deep. So I set her a challenge, one she rises to, one that has me rising too, and before long my game relies on her calling the shots, hitting the target and bending to my will. One thing is certain, being not just master of the court but also of Marie is seriously good for my soul.

 

BUY LINKS

Ellora's Cave  Amazon  Amazon UK


EXCERPT



I turned to the door. I always kept it ajar when expecting a client to give the impression that I was open to whatever they needed to talk about. It was a subliminal thing.
Travis stood in the frame, his wide shoulders filling the space, the top of his head almost brushing the wood and his jawline holding a heavy sprinkle of black stubble.
Fuck, he should come with a warning. Hazard to the health of every female heart. He looked good enough to eat, or lick all over at the very least. Tasty.
“Knock, knock,” he said, slipping his gaze down my body.
“Come in. Take a seat.” I gestured to the couch and made a point of not letting my attention slide over his body. I didn’t need to look at soft blue jeans worn in all the right places or at his black polo top with a Nike logo just over his right nipple. His physical attributes weren’t my concern, it was his mind I was after.
He shut the door and sat sideways on the low S curve of the black leather recliner, his long legs folding over and his knees coming up high.
“Please,” I said. “Lie back, make yourself comfortable.” I took a seat on a soft chair just to his left and crossed my legs.
Damn, I hadn’t realized how short this tight little red skirt was. Quickly I uncrossed, then started to worry there was a gap between my knees that would flash the top of my stockings, or worse, what was between them. Hurriedly I pressed my notebook over my lap, resisted a squirm and forced a gentle smile at Travis.
“You wear glasses,” he said.
“Contacts usually.” I touched the black frames and pressed them up the bridge of my nose a fraction.
“You were in a hurry this morning then?” He frowned, as though irritated by me being in a hurry.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You were in a rush, to get to work?”
“Not especially, it’s just the heat and being tired, it’s made my eyes a little sensitive. I thought it best to opt for my glasses when I left home this morning.”
“So you slept at home last night?”
“Pardon?” I creased my brow in confusion.
His fists were clenched and a muscle twitched in his jawline. “You slept at home then and not at…?”
I struggled to keep the surprise out of my expression. Bloody hell, was he getting at what I thought he was? Did he want to know if I’d slept at Peter’s?
His dark eyes were boring into me; they were deep chocolate-brown, almost black. Annoyance swirled in their depths, so did a curious certainty that I’d answer his question. He was definitely a man who was used to getting what he wanted.
Well, I supposed he would again now, because if he didn’t chill out we’d get nowhere and I had things to start work on. Plus I hadn’t slept with Peter. I wasn’t a to-bed-on-the-first-date kind of woman, so what was the harm in being truthful? “Yes, I slept at home last night.” I opened my notepad, clicked the spring on my ball-point pen and tilted my chin. “Alone.” I caught his steady gaze. Yes, I’d told him something he had no right to wonder about. But by telling Travis what he appeared to want to know, he owed me something in the confessing stakes.
He nodded slowly, then lifted his legs and did as I’d asked, lay back on the chair and settled his gaze over the L.A. skyline.
“And what about you?” I asked, watching as he unfurled his fists and rested his hands over his flat belly. “Did you sleep alone?”
He frowned. “You know I did.”
“No I don’t.”
“I was eating alone, Marie. You saw me.”
“Yes. I did. But you could have been heading out to meet someone or catching up with other players. I’m not a mind-reader.”
I waited for him to elaborate on our chance encounter or offer some information on the rest of his evening. He didn’t.
“In these sessions, Travis, it’s important for me to know who else is in your life, who you hang out with, who you share your thoughts and feelings with.”
“You have everything you need to know in my file.”
“Your file is full of facts. I’m more interested in the non-tangible things.”
“Like what?”
“Things like who your special someone is.”
He sucked in a breath, rolled his lips in on themselves and stared out the window.
“Have you left someone you care about back in England?” I asked gently.
“I think this is all very much beyond the realms of what we’re supposed to be doing here.” He’d fisted his fingers again and shifted his right foot irritably, as though kicking something away. I wondered if he was imagining it was my head.
“It’s up to us to decide what we want to do with our time together, Travis. We can talk about your accident or cognitive methods for keeping calm and focused under pressure, or you can unload all the stuff that fills your mind and stops you from being able to concentrate on court. Entirely up to you.”
“Great, in that case we won’t discuss my love life. It really is the last thing that plays on my mind when I’m beating an opponent into submission.”
Okay, now was the time to play my trump card. “Yet you feel it necessary to ask me about my love life.”
“You didn’t have to answer.”
“No, I didn’t, but you wanted to know, and since we’re stuck with each other for three hours a week for the foreseeable future I figured it would make sense for us to know a little about each other’s lives.”
“So now we do. I know you’re dating my coach and he wants to get into your knickers, and you know I sleep alone and have done for a long time now.” He paused. “Too long.”
Great, now we were getting somewhere. “And would you like that to change?”
“What?”
“Sleeping alone.”
He sighed and shoved his hand through his hair. I watched the black strands feather through his fingers and an image of myself doing that to him as he kissed down my sternum, onto my stomach, lower, suddenly stole into my mind.
I tightened my legs together. Felt a pleasurable little rush of heat in my lower abdomen. No. That was a ridiculous thing to daydream about. Travis Connolly was not only way out of my league, he was also a surly grump. Sitting here talking to him was stretching seconds into minutes.
“Are you asking me if I want to get married?” he asked, his gaze slipping to my chest.
Damn it, my nipples were tingling now.
“No, not at all. Simply wondering if you feel your career allows you to have a romantic relationship or if it’s something you’ve sacrificed in the name of tennis.”
“I’ve sacrificed lots of things to be number one seed.”
He twitched his shoulders, as if suggesting those things were insignificant to him. The mere fact he made that micro movement told me they weren’t.
“Like what?” I asked.
He finally shifted his attention from my chest and let out a long breath. “I didn’t go to uni like a lot of my friends did so I missed out on the whole student experience. I’ve had to turn down countless invitations to parties, weddings, etc. over the years because I’ve been playing on the other side of the world. And yes, occasionally I’ve felt that I haven’t been in a situation where I could be with someone I wanted to spend more time with.”
“That must be hard. Especially if those people you wanted to be with were important to you.”
“Yes, it was, but they understood and moved on.”
They moved on?”
“Yes.” He tightened his lips into a thin line and stared out of the window.
“It’s important,” I said, “to have love and support from those you care about.”
He shrugged. “Important but not essential.”
“What do you mean?”
He stared at me again, my face this time. “I don’t need anyone, Marie. I can do this alone. I’m used to relying on me.” He jabbed his thumb at his chest. “Even if I was in a relationship, that wouldn’t change. I would still be relying on myself, day in day out.”
“Most people believe that having a partner means you don’t feel alone, that you don’t need to be so brutally dependent on yourself and problems encountered through life are halved.”
“I’m not most people.”
Boy, did I agree with that. “In which case, Travis, you’re very lucky to feel that way.” I paused to let my acknowledgement of his statement sink in. “Has it changed though, that sense of absolute self-reliance, since the accident?”
“No, why would it?” He frowned.
“Sometimes it does when you have a near-death experience.”
He laughed. “It was hardly a near-death experience. I think you’re being a bit dramatic for the sake of justifying your job.”
I didn’t need to justify anything, but I let him have that one, for now. “You told me all about it in our last session, Travis, it sounded pretty terrifying. If I’d been knocked unconscious, broken my ribs and then been strapped to a board and blue-lighted to hospital I would certainly wonder whether or not I’d survive and if I did how my life might be changed.”
“I did survive, and my life hasn’t changed.” He rolled his eyes, letting me know he thought I was talking rubbish.
“But you’re here, in L.A.”
“Well yes, but only to get back to peak fitness and then I’ll reclaim my titles and it will be as if the accident never happened.”
“I hope that’s exactly what the next few months bring for you.” I smiled to defuse the tension.
“They will.” He folded his arms. “My sponsors are paying good money for that to happen.”
“A place like this doesn’t come cheap.” I paused. “And has the fracture site been giving you any pain while you’ve been at Los Carlos?”
He cocked his eyebrows. “What has that got to do with my mental state and all this psychobabble of yours?”
God, it was like drawing blood from a stone. I was certainly earning my money here. “Pain affects the body, yes, but also the mind. I’m just wondering if you’re still suffering any twinges.”
“No.”
“And if you were you’d tell your doctor?”
“Yep.”
“Good, because all pain is bad for your psychological health as well as your physical.” I crossed my ankles and tapped my heel on the wooden floor.
He looked at my feet. “Do you really think so?”
“Think what?”
“That all pain is bad?”
“Yes, it’s the body’s warning system to let you know something is wrong.”
“Or right,” he said quietly, his lips barely moving, his attention rising from my feet to my face.
“I’m not following you.”
He sat and swung his feet to the floor. Rubbed his hand down his cheek and around his chin; the stubble made a rasping sound against his palm.
“Travis?” I said, closing the notebook and hoping that would send a signal that whatever he wanted to tell me would be off the record. Was he still suffering when he was training? Had he not healed properly? If so that was something we needed to take very seriously.
He stared at me, almost as if he was angry that I’d made him think of something, then stood, walked to the window and surveyed L.A.
I couldn’t help but ogle his cute behind. I knew what his arse looked like naked, but bloody hell, he could fill out a pair of jeans to perfection. His tennis gear looked amazing on him but jeans, especially a pair that suggested he’d spent many an hour lounging in them, were enough to actually make my mouth water.
He placed his hands on his hips, kept his back to me. “Come here, Marie.”
“Why?” I looked at the back of his head, how his dark hair sat like silken fingers on his collar.
“Do as I ask.”
I was about to retort that I’d do no such thing. I was his psychologist and I’d stay in my chair, but something in me wanted to comply with his request. Perhaps it was the way he’d said it, as if I had no choice but to go to him, or maybe it was some kind of magnetism his sexy aura gave off that pulled me in like a fish on a line.
Placing the notebook and pen on the chair, I moved to the window and stood next to him, about a foot away.
“Some people like pain,” he said, still not looking at me.
“Masochists you mean?”
“Yes, I suppose.”
Shit, was he trying to tell me that he enjoyed the pain the accident had left him with? If so, we really needed to discuss this. “That’s not the majority of people though.”
“No, but more than you think. And some people like administering pain.” He turned to me, cocked his head slightly and moved into the space I’d left between us.
I looked into his eyes. Swallowed and tasted his cologne as it traveled into my nostrils and then laced my tongue. “Would you consider them to be good people, Travis? These individuals that like to hurt others.”
“I’ve known a few people who like to give and receive higher sensations and most of them I consider to be good friends as well as good people.”
I hesitated, felt his body heat radiating toward me, wrapping around me as I pondered his words. We were close, very close, and his consuming presence made logical thinking much harder than normal. “I’m not quite sure what you’re telling me.”
“You talk about pain like it’s a bad thing, Marie.”
“It is.”
He smiled but it wasn’t a sweet smile, more like one of a hunter who’d spotted prey.
“Pain is unpleasant for a reason,” I said. “Because it’s bad.”
“I disagree.” He raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes. It was a challenging, cocky gesture.
A tingle snaked its way up my spine and threatened to wreak havoc in my body by turning into a tremble. But I beat it down. I wouldn’t let a client get to me this way. I was the one supposed to be holding the reins here.
“Maybe, Marie, you should open your mind to new ideas with a little more grace.”
“I fail to see how I haven’t been graceful in discussing your theory that pain is good.”
“Can we keep it that way?”
“I hope so.”
“In that case,” he flicked his attention from my eyes and looked at my hair, “would you like me to demonstrate?”
Damn, the guy made me feel tiny. Even in my heels, his broad chest and wide shoulders were looming over me. “Okay.”
He twitched the right side of his mouth into a half-smile. Now he looked like a hunter who’d captured his prey. A trickle of fight or flight seeped into my system. Which would be my best option?
“Now that’s the first rule.” He reached up and undid the clasp holding my hair on the top of my head. It tumbled around my shoulders as the clasp fell to the floor. “Consent.”
“Doesn’t consent require knowing what you’re agreeing to?” Fuck, with him this close and stroking my hair, spreading it out, I’d pretty much agree to anything. Who was I kidding? Fight or flight was not an option, the only thing that shot through my mind was giving myself over to him. Allowing him to do whatever he wanted, control my body, feed it what it needed.
Damn, it had been too long since I’d been with a man. It was making me desperate.
He slotted his other hand over the left side of my head, the sound of him sliding his fingers over the shell of my ear noisy. My breath hitched and I locked my knees to stabilize my stance. I stared up at him, noting the small shafts of black hair sneaking out of his skin on his chin and the way his bottom lip was a little plumper than the top.
 “You see, some pain,” he said, gathering my hair up at my crown and tugging to create tension on the roots, “can heighten the awareness of everything else going on in the body.”
He pulled harder, forcing my head to tip back.
I gasped as discomfort shot across my scalp.
He increased the pressure a little more.
I reached out and clutched at his shirt, felt his hard chest beneath. “Travis, I—”
“Shh, I’m just showing you.” He slipped his arm around my waist, dragged me close and yanked my hair, really hard.
“Ow, I—” A barrage of sensations blasted through my system. The feel of him pressing up against me, hot hard male, all wide pecs and solid thighs. The pain from having my hair tugged with force, and the awareness that my belly was shoved right up against his groin. A groin that held a wedge of thick flesh.
“Just feel,” he whispered, hovering his lips over mine. “Endorphins are rushing into your bloodstream, giving you a natural high as pain alerts your nerve endings that something exciting is happening.” He slid his free hand up my back, tracing the outline of my spine through my blouse.
I breathed in the air he was breathing out, warm and sweet. The scream of hurt in my scalp made me want to wriggle but being held so firmly and confidently kept me still. The heat of the discomfort slipped down my nape and neck and over my shoulders then combined with the lovely sensation of him stroking my back.
“Can you feel it?” he whispered. “Pain mixing with pleasure, the lines between the two blurring.”
I could feel it with every fiber of my being. My skin was alive with awareness, my breasts were heavy and desperate for stimulation, and between my legs I was buzzing for action. Good, hard man action, preferably of the naked, sweaty variety. “Yes,” I gasped.


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Saturday, 17 August 2013

5* Review for Sexy as Hell Trilogy by Harlem Dae



The entire Sexy as Hell Trilogy has received another 5* review...

"The best erotic trilogy I have ever read! FSOG and Crossfire series have nothing on these books. If you like your books a bit edgier then you should read these. I could not put them down! Lots and lots of hot sex but also a love story. I loved the style of writing, seen from both characters emotions. All I can say is read and enjoy!!!"

Find out all the gossip and buy links on the Harlem Dae website or hit the covers on the right to head straight to Amazon.com. Please note, best read in order The Virgin, The Player, The Vixen.

Wednesday, 7 August 2013

A Taste of Paris by Lucy Felthouse

Book two of the A Taste Of… series

Ryan Stonebridge and his friend Kristian Hurst are traveling on their year off before going to University.
Unfortunately, Kristian has been called back home due to a family emergency. Ryan continues on to Paris alone, hoping his friend will join him again soon.

In the meantime, Ryan’s lucky streak with women continues, and by the time Kristian makes it to Paris, Ryan’s bumper box of condoms is depleting rapidly. However, there are more than enough women to go around, and Kristian intends to have some sexy fun of his own, and when the boys get a chance to play with two sexy ladies at once, they certainly aren’t going to turn it down.


*****
Excerpt:

Ryan could hardly believe his luck. After a sex-packed day and a bit in London, he was now being propositioned by a sexy older woman on the Eurostar. The Paris-bound train had just started moving and it seemed the woman wanted to spend at least some of the two-and-a quarter-hour journey to the French capital fucking him in the toilet.

He shook his head disbelievingly. Then, after making sure no one had witnessed their exchange—when she’d given him the come-on—he slipped from his seat and made his way as nonchalantly as possible in the direction the woman had gone. He quickly found her, standing in the area between carriages that also housed the public conveniences.

She looked around, ensuring no one could see through the glass doors at the ends of the carriages to either side of them, pulled open the toilet door and dragged him inside.

Ryan barely had time to catch a breath before she’d locked the door, slammed him against it and molded her lips to his. She tasted of expensive champagne—she’d probably been indulging in St. Pancras station’s champagne bar—and it suddenly made him very aware that, although she’d started their sexy rendezvous, he was most likely taking advantage of an inebriated woman. He twisted his head away.

“Hey,” he said, grasping her arms and pushing her gently away from him. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re gorgeous and very, very sexy, but you’ve been drinking. I don’t want you to do something you might regret later.”

The woman laughed, long and loud, and Ryan worried that someone might have heard her and wonder why on earth there was a woman laughing to herself in the train toilets. The last thing he wanted was to open the door and find a pissed-off member of staff waiting there. There was no excuse for two adults being in a locked cubicle together that anyone would believe.

Clapping her hand over her mouth, the woman suppressed her mirth, then finally spoke. “Yes, gorgeous blond one.” Her French accent surprised him—he’d thought she was a tourist heading to Paris. “I have been drinking champagne. But only a glass. I’m certainly not drunk.”

With that, she pounced on him once more, and Ryan decided not to resist any longer. They were both consenting adults and he had protection in his pocket—so where was the harm in indulging their baser instincts? His cock definitely didn’t see any further reason for delay as it filled with blood and pressed against the crotch of his jeans.

He pushed his fingers into her thick black hair and pulled her more tightly to him, deepening their kiss. She was eager and, judging by the way she was rocking her hips against him, incredibly horny. He held out for as long as he could, exploring her mouth with his tongue, nibbling at her plump lower lip and pulling her hair to expose her white throat. Before long, though, the pants and tiny mewls coming from the woman’s mouth pushed him to the point of no return. His cock was all but bursting from his jeans and he really needed to be inside this woman’s pussy.

*****
Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over seventy publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include Best Bondage Erotica 2012, 2013 and 2014 and Best Women's Erotica 2013. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Tuesday, 6 August 2013

Sexy as Hell Reviews


Sexy as Hell is already raking in rave reviews, not only that, they're all 5*, and to top it off, book #1 The Virgin, has hit #1 in both the US and UK Amazon charts!



Here is what Amazon readers are saying...

Elizabeth - BETTER THAN 50 SHADES - I absolutely loved this book, it was by far better than the 50 shades of grey. I've already downloaded the 2nd and 3rd and can't wait to start reading them, well done to harlem dae this is your best book.

Clare - EXCELLENT READ - I thoroughly enjoyed all three of these books. I wasn't expecting to enjoy them quite as much as I did! I think you need an open mind to really enjoy the story. I cannot express just how much their story touched me. I've read many erotic novels an bdsm books but these ones are by far my favourites and I have recommended them to everyone I know :)

Meme - SEXY AS HELL - Wow! Very Erotic reading... Nice twists and turns through the book. Leaves you ready to read the second book. Not for the weak of heart!!! (pun intended)

Nyrican - MADE ME THINK - A well paced, lyrical writing that ensnared and enthralled! The sex was steaming, piping hot but it didn't come first for me. I was looking to be titillated yes, but instead was captured by the story of Zara and Victor more. When I got to the last page I cried "NOOOOO!" " it can't end like this!". This writing duo both got me vested in the characters and made me think. They made me curious, and made me question. What they made me question is for me, just as it will be for other readers, it will be personal to them. I cannot wait to find out where Victor and Zara end up. I also want to read more from these authors! Enjoy this trek thru the psyche of not one but two main characters in this trilogy!