Excuse me if I'm a bit preoccupied, but Grisha From Riding Her Tiger, the latest brilliant offering from Doris O'Connor, had popped by.

What the hell is he doing with my candles? 

"Oi put them back."

Darn it, he's ignoring me."

Hello Everyone.

The delectable Raven has agreed to some playtime today, so naturally I had to take her up on the invitation.  Sadly, candles seem to be one of her hard limits, such a shame, but I'm sure she would find it a most pleasurable with the right Dom.

*grins*

Ha! He may grin... I'm glaring! Definitely way too much off limits!

Alas I can see my pesky author glaring at me as well. Apparently I am not here to indulge my fetishes —did I mention I find older women irresistible…

*laughs*

I'm blushing here, really, blushing, and I need a fan. That's before we read his excerpt. Oh okay, he's glaring again. Time to shut up.

Oh how rude of me, forgive me, I haven't even introduced myself. Too carried away with the thoughts of Raven and… well, she may throw me off here if I tell you, and then Doris will no doubt torture me by finding me a mate, and that is the last thing this Dom needs. Far too many willing subs to play with, and friends to wind up.

Sadly, I wish he was less, well, extreme (Don't tell him I said so, but oohhh droolworthy is an understatement.) *thinks* Hold on, I love him in the book the way he is. I'll pass and we'll keep him as he is.

 My name is Grisha Sergewski and I'm a Siberian Tiger shifter and I make an appearance in Doris' latest tale Riding her Tiger.

You could say I'm one of the tigers being ridden. I made sure I was, because let's face it, when a brand new sub walks into your club, and orders a Black Russian, then it would be downright rude to refuse her. And besides, Ink and I make a good tag team, if you get my meaning.

Estelle does very well for her first session and had circumstances been different I may have been tempted to consider a more permanent play arrangement…

I shan't tell you what happens, because Doris is glaring at me again. Seems Raven's nickname, calling her  D the D is quite apt, which conjures up some interesting possibilities in my head.

*chuckles and raises his eyebrows*

Seems I need to remind her that the characters are in charge, and I could wreak all sorts of havoc in her next story. See, that's what I like to see—obedience.

As she's been such a good girl I will leave you with the blurb and an excerpt of yours truly in action.

Leave a comment for your chance to win a copy and I could come to an E-reader near you. I aim to please.

*winks*

Whew, thanks Grisha. "Now please put the candles back and re tie my curtains! Now...pl...pl...."

Blurb:

Can one night change your life forever? 

Estelle has been lusting after her kinky boss Nathan for ages, but how you do you snare a much older Dom? You enlist the help of the internet.

Matched to exploration facilitator Ink, Estelle explores her submissive fantasies to the full. When online sex turns to a real life ménage will a case of mistaken identity ruin her chances with Nathan?

Or will the shifter claim his mate?

Excerpt:

"Not a very wise move, sweetheart," Grisha murmured into her ear.

"I know. I'm sorry." Estelle risked a peek at Ink's face. "I'm sorry…Sir." Ink's stern expression softened with her breathy words, and with last lingering look to Cherie, he settled his full attention on Estelle. "Follow me."

Estelle did just that, aware of Grisha's quiet presence at her back, as she followed Ink's lead. He crossed the club and stopped briefly in front of one the many doors leading off the interior. He pressed a number sequence into the keypad by the door, and the heavily padded door swung open. A harsh fluorescent light came on and Ink stepped to the side, gesturing for Estelle to step through.

Looking up to him for reassurance did little to help the army of butterflies that seemed to have taken up residence in her tummy again. He simply waited patiently, his expression unreadable, and Estelle realized that he was giving her a last get out. She straightened her shoulders and stepped over the threshold, dimly aware of the two men following. The door whooshed shut, and the lighting dimmed a little.

The room was dominated by a huge bed, and Estelle's eyes widened taking in the various restraints, dangling from the ceiling and attached to each corner. A wide array of toys, whips, paddles, and various other equipment that she didn't know the names of was laid out neatly on a sideboard. A padded St Andrew's Cross stood in one corner, a spanking bench in another, and Estelle's clit ached imagining herself strapped to any of these things. She wiped her sweaty palms on the sides of her dress, aware of the rustling of clothes behind her.

"Her limits are?" Grisha's accented voice asked.

"Hard limits are whips and any danger play. Soft limits are spanking, toys, and anal play." Ink's calm voice soothed some of those insects dancing inside of her, and she leant into the hand massaging her neck. "She's very new to submission. We've been working online. This is her first real life scene."

Grisha whistled under his breath and stepped in front of her.

"And her safe word is?"

"Cubs." She could hear the smile in Ink's voice.

Both men chuckled, and Estelle wondered briefly what was so funny. Her stomach churned too much to ponder the men's amusement too much however. Grisha cupped her chin, and some more of her anxiety fled. The expression in his black eyes was almost tender, the hand slowly running a trail along her collarbone gentle. He smiled at her moan when his hand slid lower still, and he rolled one of her stiff nipples between his fingers. She leant into his hand and sighed when his other hand explored her pussy. She instinctively spread her legs wider, and he murmured his approval at the wetness coating his fingers. One long digit slipped inside her vagina, and her knees buckled at the skillful invasion. Ink's hand on her hips held her up, and her head fell back against his chest, his harsh breath in her ear kicking her arousal up another notch. Grisha inserted another two fingers, and Estelle moaned as his fingers fucked her mercilessly, pushing her closer to that elusive edge.

Ink bit into the soft of her ear, and the sweet pain zinged along her nerve endings.

"Remember, no coming unless I give you permission. Nod your head if you hear me."

Estelle moaned her acquiescence, and both men laughed. The vibrations rumbled through her, and she started panting in earnest when Ink pulled her neckline down, exposing her breasts. He cupped the heavy globes and lifted one to Grisha to taste. With a wicked grin Grisha bent down and bit the rosy peak, flicking her clitoris with his thumb at the same time. Estelle screamed. Her knees buckled, and Grisha withdrew his fingers.

"Let's take this to the bed." Ink spun her around in his arms so fast the room swirled, and Estelle shrieked when he picked her up and deposited her on the bed. He spread her legs wide and secured them to the restraints on the corners of the huge bed. Cool air fluttered across her swollen folds, and her only just banked down arousal notched up again.

"My turn to feast on that beautiful cunt." Estelle propped herself up on her elbows better to see, until the first swipe of his tongue against her quivering flesh rendered her incapable of doing anything but feeling. His tongue was rough, creating delicious friction, and she climbed the rungs of exquisite torture again, dimly aware of her hands being cuffed together in front of her and lifted into the air. A blindfold was slipped across her eyes, and Estelle gave herself up to sensation. Completely at the mercy of Grisha and Ink, her helplessness stoked the sweet fire burning in her veins. The musky scent of man invaded her senses as an erect cock stroked along her lips. She opened automatically, taking the thick shaft as far as she could without choking, loving the salty taste of what she assumed must be Grisha's cock. Firm hands spread her wider, and a cushion was placed under her hips.

"Suck me harder. Milk me, sweetheart." Grisha's command in her ear spurred her on, and she swirled her tongue around his prick. Alternating quick flicks with long sucks, she deep throated him and swallowed down the first tiny spurts of his cum, until he yanked her hair and pulled out, spilling his hot spunk over her breasts instead with a feral growl.

Find Doris on the web here

Website: http://www.dorisoconnor.com/

Blog: http://thetardisscribbles.blogspot.co.uk/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/mamaD8

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Doris-OConnor-Romance-Author/241366635885432

here's the really important buy link

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/riding-her-tiger-by-doris-oconnor/

Do you know what day it is today????

Do you realise toniight is Beltane. 


A fire festival and fertility festival when the young god becomes man and 'lies down' with the goddess. 


It's a time of feasting and dancing and often when the hand fasting ceremony is performed.


So its not mundane monday, not eat up sundays left over day...


It's Beltane..


Go forth and enjoy.

Six Sentence Sunday—with Logan and Caleb From Riding Ryder

WARNING EXPLICIT

Caleb is showing Logan how he makes himself come.

He watched as slowly, Caleb touched himself.

"Copy me, follow my lead, your cock craves your touch. Like this." Gently it seemed, Caleb began to work his hands over his own engorged cock. 

Logan mimicked each stroke; one hand moved, briefly cupped his balls, before touching first one nipple then the other. 

And all the time, their gazes held.

                                                ******

Riding Ryder, to be released May 18th. Now Available for pre order from www.breathlesspress.com

 if you are interested, go to www.sixsunday.com  and  see just who is participating.


Happy Sunday

Meet the Vampire's Bride, thanks to Isabella Olivia Ellis

look what we have here.....

“The Vampire’s Bride, takes place in the fictional country of Scollfyld during the 18^th century. A decades old prophecy deems that the countries of Scollfyld and Bernehart will be united by the marriage of the Crown Prince Sloane Vaughan (of the royal vampire family of Bernehart) and the Chosen. The Chosen is a virginal girl of noble blood from Scollfyld who was born in the year 1761. The Prophecy states that the Chosen will stand by the Prince as he unites countries and leads an empire, but stipulates that if the marriage does not happen, then the rival vampire clan of the Scarclyfs will reign. Lady Caroline Haley is selected as the Chosen, but she struggles with this. Will she accept Sloane as her husband? And will she be strong enough to withstand the danger that being the Chosen puts her in?”

To celebrate the release of The Vampire’s Bride I decided to interview my favorite character, Lady Caroline Haley. I chose to set the interview prior to Caroline being betrothed to the prince.

Question: Who would you say are your closest friends?

Caroline: My twin sister Sophie and I have been attached at the hip since we were born. My father doesn’t quite approve of this, but he hasn’t been able to separate us yet. The other person I am closest to is Lord Luke Stone. We’ve been the best of friends since childhood and I was always able to trust him with my secrets. Of course, my father wasn’t too pleased with that either.

Question: Can you describe what your homeland is like?

Caroline: Scollfyld is a small but beautiful country. In the Spring and Summer, the grass is lush and green.  Our winters are fairly mild. Much of the land is composed of forests.

Question: Some say that you and Lord Stone are more than mere friends. How will this affect you if you are selected as the Chosen?

Caroline: Being the daughter of a duke born in the year that I was, I’ve known all of my life that my standing to be chosen would be a possibility. I love Luke dearly, but I think we have both kept each other an arm’s length away. I only hope that if I am selected as the Chosen that I will have a similar friendship with Prince Sloane.

and we're lucky enough to get an excerpt...

“Sloane, may I ask a question?”

            His smile widened, and she could see his fangs glinting in the candlelight.

            “Of course, you needn’t have to ask.”

            Gulping softly, she whispered, “Is it true? What they say about Others?”

            Sloane’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

            “I mean, as in seduction. I’ve heard tales my whole life of vampires being able to take anyone to bed, willing or unwilling.”

            Sloane straightened up. “It’s true. That is an ability my kind possesses. But I have never used it. Nor would I use it on you. I want you to want to be my wife, Caroline. I want you to be happy. The prophecy means nothing if our union is a farce.”

            Caroline worried she had offended him. He looked so serious and melancholy when replying to her. Being an Other in a world filled mainly with mortals couldn’t be easy. She raised a hand and slid it behind his ear, then down his cheek. His skin felt cool to the touch, but not strange in any other way. Along his chin, she felt the coarseness of his stubble and smiled to herself. She loved this manly aspect, and she loved his words. He wanted them to be happy together. Her nervousness was slowly melting away. 

            Sloane leaned close to Caroline’s face. She felt his eyes lock on hers and she leaned forward a little as well. Their lips met in an open kiss, and he slipped his tongue over hers. At first, kissing Sloane was an odd sensation. Where their tongues met, his mouth felt warm, yet she still sensed an iciness. Perhaps it was his breath? It reminded Caroline of a few winters ago, when she burned her finger on a candle. Emily brought a bowl of snow for her to plunge her hand into. Only, that experience was painful, and this one was of pleasure. He ran his hand deep into her hair, tugging softly on her tresses as they pressed against each other. Slowly, she reclined into the bed, and Sloane followed her. He shifted so his body was on top of hers, and Caroline could feel the texture of his shirt on her breasts through her thin gown.

            As their mouths explored each other, Sloane let his hands roam from her hair down to her body. Timidly, Caroline slid her hands from his chest and up over his back. The muscles of his lean body were strong and sinewy. One of his hands found her breast, and he lightly pinched her nipple until it hardened into a pebble. Caroline let out a slow hum of arousal. Her weakness had always been a slightly rough touch on her breasts. Sloane must have taken this as a good sign, and slid his body down so his face was level to her chest. He nuzzled the nipple of her other breast with his lips until it rose to match the first one. Then, he returned to the first and sucked it, cloth and all, into his mouth. His fingers played along her thighs and then slipped under her chemise, tracing their way up to the breast his mouth wasn’t focusing on. The combination of his skin on her bare flesh, and his mouth and the wet silk of her nipple made her arch her back in desire.

            Sloane sat up on his knees and motioned for her to do the same. Caroline obeyed, and he pulled her nightgown over her head, leaving her completely naked. She could feel herself blush and cupped her hands over her soft, bare breasts.

            “Don’t,” he said, taking her hands in his and lowering them to her sides. “You’re beautiful. Lay back.”

            Caroline obeyed, and he leaned down and began kissing his way from her mouth, down her neck, to her breasts, and then south across her stomach. He moved himself in front of her knees, and placed a hand on each one.

            “Spread your legs.” He commanded her, albeit gently.

            Confused, she kept her legs together. Caroline knew it was imperative that she remain a virgin until after they were wed. Did Sloane mean to go against the Prophecy?

            Smiling, Sloane shook his head. “My lady, have faith in me.”

            Deciding to trust him –– after all, he would be her husband in just a few days –– Caroline opened her legs. Sloane lowered himself down between them and continued his kissing where he left off. Down the curve of her hip and then toward her cunny. She felt his hair tickle the insides of her thighs and she started to giggle, but right at that moment, his kisses landed on her there. His tongue traced from the top of her slit to where her secret hole lay. Her body tingled with the thrill of it. This was something she’d never done before, not even with Luke, for she felt it was too easy to get carried away.

            Switching up the pressure, he alternated between long slow licks and short, soft kisses on her pussy. Then, he slid his tongue upwards and focused on what Caroline called her rosebud. Occasionally, in the dark of night and in the privacy of her bed, she would touch herself there until her legs tingled and her cunny tightened. As he circled his tongue and fingers on her, Caroline felt the familiar rising in her lower stomach, a sign that she was going to cum soon. She tensed her legs around his head and turned into her pillow to avoid crying out loud.

            Sloane sat up as she did, and pulled her in for a deep kiss. “I must be going, my lady. I await tomorrow’s journey. I am looking forward to you seeing my homeland.”

            Caroline smiled against his face. “I am as well. Good night, Sloane.”

Wow, Thanks Isabella, and don't forget this is available from  www.evernightpublishing.com

Editors and Publishers are like shoes

You walk differently or work differently with each.


At the moment I work with several different editors and publishers, and as they are all different people, they all work in different ways.


One is the Laboutins, another Jimmy Choos. Then theres the Haivianas, the Trainers, and the pair that is too tight and pinch your toes. All different and all need understanding before there is a perfect fit. before you are comfortable with them


Shoes Editors and Publishers... (yes I am giving them a capital letter, genuflecting almost!)


One of the hardest things I found, when I began my career as an author (and how good it is to write that. As an aside the first time I was able to write 'author' when they ask for occupation on an immigration form I was so excited lol), was if Publisher 'A' like things doing xyz, publisher 'B' wanted pqr and so on. 


Likewise Editors. some want more dialogue tags, some want less.(or whatever) It's up to me to make sure I fit in, and learn how they work. No one is right or wrong, they are just all different. That's good, it stretches my mind, makes me work and think.


Sometimes though, you might have to hold your hand in the air and admit defeat. Say those shoes are uncomfortable, don't work for you and you're better off without them. Sorry but I'm done.


So, same with Editors and Publishers. That fit just might not be there. No one's fault, necessarily, just not right.


Other times of course, you do make the Laboutins, or the trainers or whatever work. After an uncomfortable few weeks when you despair anything will be right, one day you get up, wriggle your toes ( or fingers over the keyboard) and realise. It is all good.


Remember all of us are different and we can't please all of the people all of the time, and can't get on with everyone (or every pair of shoes)


What's right, will be right! and what's wrong? Chalk it up (down) to experience, life's rich and steep learning curve...and move on!

six sentence sunday...

These are the opening sentences of  Almost Entente Cordiale. 

(Set in 1800)

Finding your lover buried deep inside another was not the welcome you would expect, especially when your lover was male, as were you, and the body he was at that moment fucking to oblivion, was not.

No matter that said lover did not know when or where he would see you again, or indeed, if ever.

Julien swore fluently in his native French and watched the tight, firm arse of his lover move up and down as his cock thrust in and out of the lady. He presumed by the muslins crushed around her body, she was a lady, and not just a serving girl. Knowing Alastair or, he amended, thinking he knew Alastair, it would definitely be a lady.

The fact that both he and Alastair, up to that time, had had no interest in females for many years was immaterial; he felt betrayed, hurt, and inexplicably excited by the sight in front of him.

Available from www.breathlesspress.com    Amazon    www.bookstrand.com       www.allromanceebooks.com   among others

Porn, erotica, erotic, or hot? Or what's in a tag?

So what do each of those words conjure up for you?


This has been something up for discussion lately around my friends. How do you differentiate between them? Do you even  care? Are you an avid tagger, tag reader, or categorizer. (Is that a word?) Do you have a strict..."I won't read that" idea in your head, and are you swayed by those words or do you read and decide later?


(remember we all have an off switch/hand to close a book/charity shop/ dustbin/delete button.)


We came to the conclusion that each and every one of us have our own idea what is what. And indeed one person's idea of erotic fiction, is another's erotica or porn. Subjective, individualistic and personal.


And that's how it should be really. We all decide for ourselves which is okay for us, what is allowed into our reading banks and which we firmly shut the door on. And must accept others will not necessarily agree with our ideas.


Strangely...well no not strangely now I think about it. Our ideas on those tags will change. Who can honestly say they are not now reading genres, and levels that they didn't several years ago. Reading broadens our horizons, extends our inquiring minds, and spurs us on in all manner of ways.


So what do you think? Do you pay attention to tags? To labels? Do they help you to decide which book you'll read next. Do they *shifts in chair glances around to check no editors around* put you off a book even before you read the blurb? As in "I don't read that sort of stuff"


Now I am a firm believer we need to know if there is something in a book that might offend some people, upset or scare. I'm the biggest wuss in the world I admit, I don't do scary or nasty. and I do find some of them helpful. (I'm not just talking tagging here but categorizing) But sometimes, I do think you can be put off a book by the way it's described.


And, by how people define things such as porn, erotica and erotic.


So what's your definition? What's your views?


Drop me a comment and let's see if we can crack this and make our own definitions. (and let me know what you think...please)




By the way got to plug a great book out today


The Blood Bar Chronicles, Book 1 The Alphas Is out from www.breathlesspress.com  today.
(Also at Amazon, all romance, bookstrand etc
4 amazing authors, Doris O'Connor, Cherie Nicholls, Jorja Lovett and Arya Grey.


First in a trilogy of 12 short hot, erotic (my tag) stories all revolving around a very interesting bar in Edinburgh.


Book 2 The protectors out September 21st.


Book 3 later in the year.. watch out for them...


Have a great day,


Raven

Aren't we lucky... RANDI ALEXANDER has popped in...

This is my lucky week. hot hot cowboys...

New Release, Contest, and Book Giveaway!

Hi, I'm Randi Alexander and I write cowboy erotic romance. I'm published with The Wild Rose Press' Cowboy Kink line. My new release, Her Cowboy Stud, is available now.

Thank you for hosting me, Raven. You have a beautiful blog. I spent a lot of time reading through all the fascinating posts and sexy excerpts. As I read, I realized how compelling words can be, whether whispered or shouted or just formed as a thought inside a character's head.

In romance novels, especially erotic romance novels, authors love to intrigue readers with sexual tension. Starting from page one, we start the hero and heroine thinking about s-e-x.

Here are some examples from Her Cowboy Stud:

Macy sucked in a breath as she pushed herself back to standing. That voice. Deep and strong, slow with a sensual Texas drawl, sending jolts of heat to her core and evoking the daydream she’d been indulging in for three quarters of a year. The fantasy where cowboy Trace McGonagall held her close and murmured low, sexy promises in her ear.

Trace bet she was thinking the same thing. If she got down here to Texas occasionally, they could make it a regular thing. … One sizzling night a month he could spend some of his bankroll on her. They’d meet in a high-class Houston hotel. He’d pull her to him, hard and fast, and their kisses would be frantic as they ripped the clothes off each other. He’d tell her with desperation choking his voice, “I want you. Now.” He’d pick her up and press her back against the wall. He’d lift her legs and slide into her hot, wet pussy.

With this technique, we're deep inside each character's head, and we know what they want, even if the object of their lust doesn't. (Did you notice how the thoughts differ from a woman's head to a man's?)

Another way to turn up the heat under the boiling pot of desire (wow, what an analogy!) is to have the characters tell each other what they would like to do.

“Darlin’.” He lifted Macy gently in his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her on the comforter. “I want to taste you. Everywhere.” His words came slow and full of promise. His half-lidded eyes turned nearly black with lust as he looked his fill of her body, not touching her, taunting her with expectation.

“I know what you need, Trace,” her voice rasped. “It’s the same with me. I want you hard and fast this time.” The naughty glint in her blue eyes charged like electricity through him, shooting wild, throbbing pulses down into his cock.

“I want to take you from behind.” He’d been craving this from the moment he saw her looking out over his land, her white pants snug on her perfect ass, her sexy calves bare, and her feet, delicate in those high heeled sandals. “I want your sweet ass pressed up against my hips, and I want to feel my balls slappin’ against your shaved mound.”

Her eyes closed as she cried, “Yes, please. I want you inside me. Fuck me from behind.”

When the characters tell each other what they want, what they need to do to each other, it gets extremely sexy. The desire buzzes between them like electricity and we get a double dose of tension: we can feel how the dialogue affects the person saying the words, as well as how the words impact the character who's hearing them.

The third way to build the sexual steam in a story is, of course, when the hot, sticky, naughty lovemaking begins. (woo-hoo!) My example of that is below in the excerpt.

Being a writer, I'm always on the lookout for the phrases in a book that make me go, "Ohhhh yaaaa!" What are some of the things that you’ve read or have had whispered to you that have set your blood racing and raised tingles across your skin? Is there one thing that every time you hear it send your world spinning? Please share it in a comment, and one lucky commenter will win an ecopy of my anthology.

Trace McGonagall’s quiet life on his Houston stud ranch is shaken up when gorgeous Macy Veralta arrives to claim an inheritance left to her in his uncle’s will. Trace sees her as just another gold digger, but he also can’t resist her curvy body. When she hints at being the perfect submissive to his Dom, he has to have her.

Macy wouldn’t have been three months late to claim her inheritance if she’d known Trace was sin in jeans. The cowboy’s dominant bearing and the smoldering glint in his eyes send shivers to her toes and stirs images of being bound in his bed and disciplined at his hand. But could Trace’s perfect seduction be part of his plan to reclaim her inheritance?

EXCERPT:  Over 18 only, please.

Something touched Macy's inner thigh. Cool, like leather. The riding crop? Yes, she wanted to feel the sting. She made a tiny whimper, and whispered, “Please?”

With a groan, Trace drew back and brought the whip down on her right cheek, then her left, then softer on each of her thighs, but still with a sting.

The burn lasted just seconds but gave her a new sensation, one she’d never known. Throbbing pulses of carnal need converged in her core, and her pussy lips swelled and tingled.

“No,” he groaned. “You’re not submissive enough to deserve the crop.” The sound of the flogger hitting flesh made her hold her breath, but he walked to the side of the bed, slapping the rubber against his palm. “Do you even deserve more flogging?”

From where she lay on the bed, with her head turned toward the window, she couldn’t see him. Not daring to turn her head without permission, she said, “My pussy. Please.”

He touched the strips of the whip to her most sensitive flesh. “Has it been a bad pussy?”

She bit her lip, loving the way he stayed in character, but let her determine the severity of her discipline.

“Very bad.”

In a second, the stinging strips of rubber lashed her inner thighs and swollen lips. Her slit contracted, feral waves of decadent sensation gripped her deep inside her belly. A soft groan escaped her throat before she could stop it. The second strike came faster, tingling through her as her body slid closer to orgasm. Her hips bucked, driving her to the edge of bliss.

“You will not come without my permission,” he commanded. “Up on your hands.”

Shaking, her head spinning with the needed release, she pushed her upper body from the bed. Her breasts jiggled, sending the clamps swaying, tugging at her in waves of dark pleasure.

He stood next to her. She could see his jeans and the immense erection captured behind the denim.

“I hold the power of your orgasms.”

“Yes,” she agreed, wanting to urge him faster, but knowing the rules. Obeying them.

Trace walked to the other side of the bed and crawled to her side. On his knees, he laced a hand in her hair and turned her head. His kiss was all powerful. He took from her, teaching her, holding her captive with his mouth. His tongue flicked and tasted, twined and tangled. Abruptly, he ended the kiss and turned her head the opposite way.

“Look at yourself.”

A large mirror on his low dresser sat at the perfect angle for her to see both of them. Her body, restrained and clamped, shivered with satisfaction at the perfect vision. Her on her hands and knees with her sexy cowboy beside her, and his hand in her hair.

He slid his other hand up her thigh and she caught his reflection. Dark eyes, nostrils flared, he reminded her of a wild stallion.

His hand cupped her pussy and a jolt went through her. Her hips bucked, begging for more.

*********

To celebrate the release of Her Cowboy Stud, I'm giving away, to one lucky *commenter, an e-copy of my new erotic romance short story anthology Cowboy Bad Boys. Just leave a comment today and we'll choose a winner tomorrow. *Commenter must be 18 years of age or older to win.

I'm also giving away a custom-made messenger bag and a $50 gift certificate to Pureromance to one subscriber to my newsletter. For more details, and to sign up for this contest, please go to my website, RandiAlexander.com  And while you're there, you can read the first chapter of Her Cowboy Stud.

Good luck, and thank you!

Randi  "Rode Hard and Put Up Satisfied"

RandiAlexander.com

WildAndWickedCowboysBlog

Her Cowboy Stud available at The Wild Rose Press Wilder Roses

Kindle version is available at Amazon.com

going wild with Jorja....

Jorja Lovett has popped in...

Hi J you look sort of knackered. I wonder why (winks)

Up All Night!

So, Raven very kindly offered me a spot on her blog today but as I’m still in recovery after a weekend with her and the other members of our group, I’m afraid I don’t have anything deep and meaningful for you *ducks as Raven starts throwing things*

(As if I would.. well not much anyway, she'd throw them back, and she has a better aim than me.!)

What I can say, following on from her last post, is that these friends have pushed me all the way to publication. This week I have two releases which our crit group have been very much a part of. Into the Wild, which was released yesterday, was my first full length ms that I ever completed. It makes me laugh now that I thought some of the scenes in it were too racy to share with the group at the start. (If you’ve read Raven and Doris’s work, you will get the joke!) But the girls were with me through every rewrite and painful edit and according to them, they own a piece of my hero, Smith.

(that is so true, we do!)

The Blood Bar Chronicles, released on Friday, is very much a joint effort. It is an anthology of our short stories based on a night in Edinburgh and there will be three books in the series. My story, In Her Element, tells the story of shy Ana who meets Zanaan, a fire elemental but I can tell you, the other tales are very hot too!

I’m hoping if I give Raven a little teaser from Into the Wild and a look at my sexy cover it will distract her enough until I make my escape…

(Hmm, yup you can go as long as you leaves Smith)

Blurb

After another doomed relationship, Laurie Sommers cocoons herself in the 'living ghost town' of Coyote Creek. But the arrival of Smith Masterson, her unrequited teenage love, torpedoes her cozy spinsterhood, setting her ablaze with a burning desire she believed long gone. 

A Texas Ranger through and through, there's no room for a relationship in Smith's life - not at eighteen and certainly not now, when he's investigating a robbery and the subsequent shooting of the Captain. Persuading Laurie to fake a relationship to keep his cover is the easy part; the hard part is restraining himself around her.

Excerpt

“Did you know Smithy’s packing heat?” David jerked his head in the direction of her love interest, presumably in an attempt to divert her attention from his flirting.

            Laurie’s eyes were bright as Smith opened his jacket to accommodate her, indulging in a leisurely perusal of his built bod.

Only when she had wandered over the muscular landscape of his thighs, did she get the joke. Slung low from his hip was a black holster complete with replica pistol.

“Apparently I can’t be trusted with the real thing.” Amusement danced in those chocolate irises, whether at her noticeable fascination with the heat between his legs or the pretend gun, she wasn’t certain.

“These guys are trained, professional in what they do. They can’t have every Tom, Dick or Harry running about shooting all and sundry.” Laurie respected Buster’s rules and expected Smith to do so.

“And which am I?” He let the coat fall closed, and she realized she was still staring at his nether regions. It was as well they hadn’t put him in a pair of leather chaps or she would never have torn her eyes away.

“Tom?” He stepped closer.                                          

“Harry?” Another step.                                               

“Or Dick?”                                                                 

She licked her scarlet lips, the shadow of his Stetson falling over her cleavage. Yep, he knew what she had been staring at.

“Places, everyone!” Camille rapped the bar to garner attention.

“Where do we go?” Smith’s arm curled around her cinched waist.

“The fight scene usually starts over a card game, so we need to blend into the background. There’s a perfect view from the balcony if you want to see what’s going on.”

Laurie tried to focus on playing her part and not the possessive hold of the handsome gunslinger at her side.        Taking up position at the top of the staircase, they had a clear view of proceedings. Visitors crowded around to watch the drama unfolding between Wes and Buster, the dapper conman and the gnarly cowhand. Smith leaned over the balcony rail as the gamblers set up the card school below.

“How much?” he said without turning around.

“Excuse me?” She had a feeling she knew where he was going with this, but he didn’t sound as though he was joking.

“How much for an hour in there?” He indicated the bedrooms with a nod of his head.

“Oh no, us saloon girls are here for company only. We talk, we dance, we get you to buy drinks, but we don’t do that, sir.” If he was letting loose and getting into character then she was happy to play her part.

“No? The men of the old west respect that?”

“They do unless they want to enrage the barkeep.” She could imagine Wes’s reaction to her being propositioned on his premises.

“I think I’ll take my chances.” Laurie let out a squeal when he lifted her off her feet. Throwing her over his shoulder, legs and petticoats flying, he bundled her into the room.

“Sir, I think the establishment down the road would be more suitable to your needs,” she said, half-heartedly fending off the advances of the dashing stranger.

“I’ve got everything I need right here, darlin’.” His mouth ravaged hers, and the hard, passionate kisses were every bit as much of a turn on as the soft, lingering ones she had gotten used to. Hoisting her by the rump, he pulled her close until his hardness pressed into her belly. His lips and tongue pursued heedlessly, leaving her stunned by the sudden turnaround in the chase.

            Minimum effort was required to free her from the restrictive corset. A quick tug poured her breasts into his greedy hands, and his insatiable tongue relocated to attend her rosy tips. “You’re beautiful.”

She wasn’t sure what the catalyst had been to change his mind, but she wasn’t about to question his sudden horniness. Her skin was on fire with every lick; it cooled with the breath of his reverent words. The contrasting sensations had her spinning, the earth moving beneath her.

Lifting her onto the dresser, he pushed the cracked porcelain jug and basin to one side. He pulled her to the edge and wrenched her thighs apart. A deft hand snaked along her silk-clad leg and paused at the frilly red garter.

“What’s this?” He stepped back for a closer inspection, and whistled. “I think we’ll leave that there for the time being.”

“Why, is it turning you on?”

He grabbed her hand and rubbed it along his crotch, the rigid expanse answering her question. “What do you think?” 

Had Smith finally decided to give in to wild abandon? She certainly hoped so.

            As if reading her mind, he ripped her panties off in one, swift movement. She reached for him and stroked his hard bulge begging for release. This time he made no attempt to stop her.

            His silver belt buckle wasn’t so co-operative, and she struggled to open it. “Do you really need to wear this darn thing? It doesn’t make it easy for a girl to get in there, you know.”

With practiced movements, he released the catch and whipped it out of his waistband. “Better?”

The green light had her popping the buttons of his fly open, his firm length nudging her. The slight contact through the cotton of his boxer briefs caused him to gasp. Desperate to see all of him, she pulled him free, his long, thick cock springing proudly from a mass of black curls. Slick in preparation, she anticipated its courtship.

The distant sound of shouting and tables being overturned briefly stalled her. Smith’s cock jerked, impatient for tending. In compliance, she encircled him with her hand, grasping firmly. He planted his hands on the dresser and braced himself.

With the building friction along his shaft, he moaned and thrust. She cupped his sac, massaging until his tip glistened with the promise of what was to come. 

(Glad she left him, aren't you?)

Into the Wild is available through Evernight Publishing

Amazon

AllRomanceEbooks

And BookStrand

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