Sunday, 27 December 2015

#SexySnippets...How to sit comfortably...

Welcome to the last #SexySnippets of 2015

It's been a good year...

My last book of the year comes out on Tuesday 29th December

It's book 5 in my Diomhair series, and we learn a bit more about the club and what's going on in the area. Here Mimi is about to discuss what she thinks being a sub is all about...


Thank goodness she was wearing jeans and liked sitting on the floor—and was
reasonably agile. Mimi sat down and tucked her legs to one side although normally she would sit cross-legged in the lotus position, but here that seemed too provocative.


Alex—no, she must remember to add the Master bit—sat in the chair next to her and for one brief second put his hand on her head. Red-hot heat radiated down from his touch and she shivered—how could something so simple create such a reaction? 

Mimi shut her eyes and took a deep breath, it was ridiculous.

And breathe.

If he noticed her reaction to his touch, he chose to ignore it.

Secret's Learned is up for preorder and will be available to download on Tuesday 29th 

The other #SexySnippets can be found here

Happy reading,

love  R x

Thursday, 24 December 2015

come to the... Crossroads

with Gale Stanley

Out Now! Crossroads @GaleStanley #MMRomance @EvernightPub

Hi! Thanks for letting me stop by to talk about my new book – Crossroads.

The story was inspired by a recent trip to New Orleans. We stayed at the historic Omni Royal Orleans in the heart of the French Quarter and we were able to walk to all the fantastic restaurants, shopping, and entertainment. We toured the area hit by Katrina, the cemeteries, and the voodoo museum. In movies and TV, voodoo is usually shown as a dark and scary practice. In reality, it's a religious practice in which the followers have direct contact with the spirits. And that's the story I wanted to tell.

The events in Crossroads take place around Christmas, a season of miracles, but really, it could happen any time of the year. All you have to do is believe…


Long time lovers, Louis Abellard and Jesse Trudeau work in a Voodoo shop in the French Quarter. Jesse is a believer, but Louis turned his back on the spirits when they allowed his mother to die of cancer.

When Jesse is hospitalized with leukemia, Louis is desperate to save him. He’ll do anything—except ask the spirits for help. Then one night an unlikely ally makes contact, and Louis finds himself at a crossroads. Maybe it’s time to revisit his past and confront his inner demons.


Three years ago, Jesse walked into the voodoo shop and asked for a job. It was love at first sight—for Mawmaw and Jesse. They hit it off immediately. Jesse is a believer, the grandson she should have had.

I was smitten, too, but for other reasons. Jesse looked so damn hot, all long blond hair and golden-brown skin like he should have been riding a surfboard instead of a skateboard. His cutoffs were stretched tight over the bulge at his crotch, and being the slut I was back then, I wanted to fuck him. I gave Mawmaw a thumbs-up, and she hired him on the spot.

Jesse stayed for dinner. My grandmother filled his head with ghost stories and his stomach with her spicy shrimp gumbo. I took him to bed later and filled him in other ways. It didn’t take long for lust to turn into the real thing. Fortunately, I didn’t screw things up, and Jesse moved in two weeks later. Jesse is easy to love. I’m not sure what he sees in me, I’m just grateful the feelings are mutual.

Available at

Evernight | Amazon | All Romance | Bookstrand


Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.
Some things never change.


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Wednesday, 23 December 2015

Who's a pussy cat?

Only two more sleeps until Santa comes...

I'm bucking the seasonal trend and not teasing from a Christmas book. 

That is because I have book of Diomhair, Secrets Learned, on preorder. 

It's ready to be downloaded from Totally Bound on 29th, just right to cuddle up with on a winter's day...

(Mimi has gone with the subs for a chat...)


“Feeling brave, bro, to leave her with that lot, are you?” David smote Alex on the back so hard Alex rocked. “Aren’t you worried what they’ll tell her about you?”
“My life is an open book. A clean, pristine open book.”
“Weird.” David stretched his arms up high. “That’s not what I’d heard. Don’t you know subs are never sure how to take you?”
Alex shook his head. Surely David was joking? Alex knew he kept a good poker face, and wasn’t one for over-enthusiastic gestures, but surely that didn’t make him hard to understand? The thought it may do so, was somewhat uncomfortable. “I’m a pussy cat.”
“Ha, with big claws that scribe oh so beautifully?”
“Well, there is that. Hell, I can’t help who or what I am. It’s me.”
“True enough and so it should be,” David said. “No one scribes better than you. But what was it one subbie said? Oh yes, your enigmatic look puts the sphinx to shame.” He laughed. “Scared her shitless and she wasn’t even with you. So, are you gonna show Mimi the joys of having you raise little red lines over her skin?”
Alex shrugged. “Dominique.”
Davis looked quizzical. “Ah ha. Not Mimi to you then. I wonder why.”
“Fuck off, David. It’s her name.” Alex almost growled the words. He had no intention of explaining why he chose to use her full name. He wasn’t really sure he knew himself—not properly.
David held his hands up in an ‘I surrender’ gesture. “Okay. And are you?”
“Who knows.” He hoped so, but he wasn’t hopeful. “She doesn’t do pain.”
David rotated his shoulders. “God, I ache. I ought to exercise more.”
Ronnie snorted. “In or out of bed or a dungeon?”

Whatever you celebrate, I hope you enjoy it,

Happy reading,

love R x

Tuesday, 22 December 2015

Do you know ... the Secret of Obedience? Here's how to find out...

My guest today, is Liv Rancourt...

The Secret of Obedience

Can a jock find love with a hot little hipster?
Opposites attract, but secrets divide.

Ronnie Durand is a country boy who transfers to the University of Washington after two years at Central. He'll have to give up playing football, though finishing his education at a major university in Seattle - and being out and proud without having to look over his shoulder - makes the sacrifice worthwhile. 

But finding friends at a huge school is tough, especially when the hottest guy Ronnie meets makes him doubt his own sanity.

Sang's been on his own a long time. He's only a couple steps away from living on the street, and he's got dreams so big they don't leave space for a steady boyfriend. Then he meets Ronnie, who just might be strong enough to break through his long as Sang lets him in on one big secret. 

Buy Links
Amazon   -   ARe   -    Evernight  -  Barnes & Noble


Sang wants to spin, to expand into the space. He shows his desire in the way he raises his arms and sweeps the floor with his gaze. He's wearing a simple white wife-beater over his jeans, but it’s topped with a long navy double-breasted coat with gold trim, the kind of thing worn by Union soldiers in the Civil War. It fits like it was made for him, and my palms burn to touch it.
I move deeper onto the dance floor. I'm broader, wider, and the crowd packs tightly around me. I get as close to Sang as he'll let me, belly to belly. He's only about 5'4", and when he turns his back, he presses his ass against my thigh.
I take it as an invitation. Keeping one hand on his shoulder, I let the other wander. He reaches behind, grabbing handfuls of the denim wrapping my legs. I stroke his throat, bend down to tell him how pretty he is, chicken out and do nothing but breathe in his ear.
Bodies crush, sweaty and raw, shifting us to the center of the floor. My dick's engaged in an argument with the fly of my jeans. I let my hand drift lower, across Sang's chest. His small nub of a nipple hardens under my fingertips, but no softness surrounds it. If he's really a girl, he totally got shortchanged. I sweep my fingers wider. Nah, these pecs belong on a man.
I move my hand lower, going slow, giving him time to stop me. I stick my thumb into a belt loop. He grabs my wrist, tight.
"What?" I ask. The bare, light toast skin of his neck is inches from my lips. I could taste him. I want to. Over the stink of sweat and too many colognes I smell him, some warm spice scent like the incense Mom used to burn.
He brings his mouth within kissing distance. "Don't."
"What you got under the hood, pretty? You packing a V6 or a V8?" I want to kiss him, to taste him, to admire this perfect jewel of a person.
"V6 or V8." He grins, and it's the curve of his lower lip when he smiles that I'll remember, like his mouth is held by a chalice. "Does it really matter?" he asks.
It does, but not in the way he thinks. I leave off my search, but don't move my hand from his belt. See, my stepdad threw me into football when I was eight. I was good at it, good enough nobody messed with me. The locker room's not known for being a gay-friendly place, but being able to dead lift 280 pounds at age fifteen bought me some peace.
I'm still a guy, though, and I like lovers who are smaller and prettier than me. Call me a cave man. Whatever. Sang is my small-town boy's fantasy, and the press of his body has me so turned on I'd think about doing him even if he’s actually a she.
My fingers are trembling with the need to touch, to know.
"Come on, Sugar Cookie. Does it matter?"
I lean in, drawn like his lips are the center of a flower and I'm one very horny bee.
"Oh no." He jerks away, his gorgeous smile extinguished. "No kissing. I don't kiss strangers."
Puzzled, I reach out. He's hemmed in by the crowd, so it's nothing to loop my fingers under his shirt and draw him closer. "No kissing, then." Some guys are like that. He rocks against me, straddling my thigh, giving me a taste of the hardness in his groin. Hell yeah.
"Is your ID legal?" Because somehow it matters that he's at least 21. I can't keep the grin off my face. His dick is going to be gorgeous, and I'm going to suck it, and he's going to scream.
"Of course." He's not frowning anymore. He's sly and shimmering and a little mean. "I do love a man in cowboy boots. The rest of it..." He brushes his hands down the sleeves of my plain white t-shirt. "Not so much. But I'll do you for your boots."
I get both hands around his waist and drag him further up my leg. He hangs onto a handful of my shirt. I'm not sure his feet are even on the floor. The song changes, or maybe it doesn't. They all sound the same. My cock is pressed against him hard enough to make me grit my teeth. "Let's go."
His heavy eyelids drift down until he has to tip his head to maintain eye contact. "Bathroom?" 
I guess it's that or an alley. "Sure."
He grabs my wrist roughly and leads me through the disorganized crowd. We go right past the men’s room to the women’s. “Less crowded,” he says over his shoulder.
The restroom smells like piss and semen and sweat. We find a stall, and I get down on my knees before he can argue. The floor is sticky, but I figure I can’t catch anything too scary through my knees, and from there I can nuzzle his belly.
"Are you always like this? I like a nice toppy guy, you know, but he's gotta be able to—"
I don't hear what he thinks a guy's gotta do seeing as I've covered his mouth with my hand, smearing gritty sticky lipgloss with my fingers. The bossy little fuck has just dragged me in here like I'm some kind of prized bull, and now he’s gonna whine about me? There are crinkles of laughter at the corners of his eyes.
"Sang?" I'm not sure what the question is. The door to the stall is at my back, and I'm wrestling with the buttons on his very tight jeans. "Hey, I'm new in town. You should treat me like a guest and let me do what I want."
He drags my hand away. "Now you just wait a minute. What do you think I'm going to let you do? Because if you do anything I don't want, I'm going to scream."
"You'll scream, all right."

I write romance: m/f, m/m, and v/h, where the h is for human and the v is for vampire … or sometimes demon … I lean more towards funny than angst. When I’m not writing I take care of tiny premature babies or teenagers, depending on whether I’m at home or at work. My husband is a soul of patience, my dog’s cuteness is legendary, and we share the homestead with three ferrets. Who steal things. Because they’re brats.
I can be found on-line at all hours of the day and night at my website & blog (, on Facebook (, or on Twitter ( For sneak peeks and previews and other assorted freebies, go HERE to sign up for my mailing list.

Come find me. We’ll have fun!