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Wicked Wednesday Reads: Unconventional (@cw1985) #bdsm #spanking #romance

Whee, it’s Wednesday! Which means it’s time to feature the lovely Lucy Felthouse and her brand spanking (and I do mean spanking) new romance Unconventional, now available from Totally Bound Publishing, Amazon and other online retailers of fine erotic romance. Enjoy!


Penny was caught out in the wrong place, at the wrong time. As a recently graduated law student, the brush with the law could put an end to her career before it’s even begun. But thanks to her lawyer daddy’s contacts, she’s been given a second chance. A chance to redeem herself and make her stupid behavior go away.

Which is how she ends up working in a soup kitchen, preparing and serving meals to those who are having a rough time of it. She’s not keen on the idea, and when she meets Maddox, the guy in charge, she’s even less keen. A tall, skinny, mad-haired, tattooed guy, Maddox is the sort of person Penny would normally cross the road to avoid. But once she gets to know him, she starts to see things differently. He’s had a checkered past himself, and has now put it behind him and enjoys a glittering, prosperous career as a top chef.

Maddox may have unconventional looks, but Penny quickly grows to like him, and, much to her surprise, finds herself attracted to him. He’s a lot older than her, and their lives are at completely different stages, but in spite of this, there’s an undeniable connection between them.

When Maddox makes Penny an unconventional offer, will she have the courage to take him up on it? And if she does, where will it lead?

Story Excerpt

From the very second I laid eyes on him, it was clear he was unconventional. If I’m being truthful, I thought he looked like a complete nutter—someone I’d probably cross the road to avoid. Even in the daytime. He was tall and skinny, with a shock of black hair—still apparent under his hairnet—and pale skin. Kind of like Edward Scissorhands. Only—mercifully—without the scissors for hands part. A vine-looking tattoo began at his left wrist, worked its way up his arm, then snaked beneath the sleeve of his T-shirt…to who knew where?

Oddly, even though I mentally kicked myself for thinking it, I found myself wanting to find out. Did it stop at his upper arm, his shoulder? Did it continue over his back, his chest, twine its way around a pectoral, sneaking in toward the nipple? Or even farther south, perhaps?

Even if you took Mr. Unusual out of the equation, there was nothing normal about the situation I found myself in. After all, what recent graduate of law school finds themselves volunteering in a soup kitchen? A recent graduate who lost her head—and heart—over a bad boy, that’s who.

Most people seem to think that those who study law are smart. Super smart, actually. There’s a reason for that—folks who study law are smart. If they pass all the exams, that is. And I did—with distinction. Which makes me clever on paper, I suppose, but apparently lacking in common sense, or perhaps I just have severely poor judgment. Or both.

However you want to look at it, I fucked up. Big time. I fell for the wrong guy, trusted him, and ended up caught up in something that got me arrested.

It could have been the end of my law career. Before it had even started, and after all those years of education—not to mention a rather large chunk of my parents’ cash. Fortunately, they’ve got plenty of it, due to my daddy’s successful career. He works in law, too, which, luckily for me, means he’s got friends in high places.

So it was less voluntary work, more community service. Otherwise known as do-this-or-you’ll-get-a-criminal-record-and-kiss-your-career-goodbye.

Fixing my potential glittering career in my mind, I took a deep breath and crossed the industrial-looking kitchen, heading toward him. He looked utterly at home chopping carrots—he was like one of those chefs you see on the telly, his hand and the knife he gripped moving so fast they were almost a blur. I cringed at the thought of trying such a thing. Never mind the end of my career, it’d be the end of my fingers.

Approaching cautiously—I didn’t want to startle him and cause a horrific accident—I waited until he’d finished his carrot before speaking. “Um, hi.”

Turning quickly, still with his knife in his hand, he smiled. “Ah, hello. You must be Penny.”

For a moment, I was so caught up in his eyes that I couldn’t reply. Fortunately, I managed to get a grip before I was the one who was a nutter. “Um, yes, that’s right. I’m here to help out.”

As though suddenly realizing he still held the knife, he glanced at it in his hand, then quickly put it down on the counter. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to greet you with a blade! I’m so used to using the things that it’s like they’re an extension of my arm.”

Hmm, so maybe he’s Edward Knifehands. I suppressed a shudder.

Those stunning eyes—such an unnatural yet beautiful blue—twinkling, he held out his now empty hand. “I’m Maddox Black. Pleased to meet you. And very pleased to have you here.”

We shook. As we did so, the heat that had sparked inside me when we’d made eye contact began to intensify.

Christ, no, Penny. You just ditched one bad boy. The last thing you need to do is swap him for another one.

Where to Buy

Totally Bound Publishing | Amazon | B&N | Google Books | iBooks | Kobo | Goodreads

About the Author

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller) and The Persecution of the Wolves. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 150 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. You can also subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9.

Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

Fabulous Friday Reads: Christmas With His Best Friend

Happy holidays, kittens! Let’s get ready for this Christmas weekend with Doris O’Connor’s new holiday romance, Christmas With His Best Friend, now available from Evernight and other online purveyors of fine romance. Go Doris!

Thank you so much for having me on your blog today with my new release, Christmas With His Best Friend.

This was one of those stories that practically wrote itself, once I started writing. I love the friends to lovers trope, myself, and I knew I would have to expand on the flash I wrote on my blog. This one to be precise.

Just imagine walking in on your best friend pleasuring himself to a picture of you? What would you do?

Emma has a whole set of conflicting emotions to deal with when this happens to her. Not least because she has been secretively fantasising about her best friend too.

Dare they take that leap into the unknown?

You’ll have to read the book to find out.

*smiles*


christmas-with-his-best-friend-evernightpublishing-nov2016-smallpreviewThey’ve been friends for twenty years until … this Christmas.

How do you tell a sweet, naïve, and clearly vanilla girl that you like to tie women up and torture them for mutual enjoyment in your spare time? Josh Mackenzie has no idea, but when his best friend Emma walks in on him pleasuring himself, everything changes.

For Emma, coming face to face with her secret longings is mind-blowing. It’s one thing to fantasize about your best friend, but dare she take that leap into the unknown? Will it not ruin their friendship, and is—what would undoubtedly be awesome—sex worth risking that?

While Josh shares her fears, she is all he’s ever wanted in a woman, and he’s determined to show her that they can have it all. This woman is his to mark, cherish, and love forever, and he’ll prove it to her, one spank at a time.

Story Excerpt

Now that the moment was here Josh was lost for words. With his sweet little Em in his arms, her hazel eyes looking up him with so much trust … fuck it. What was he doing here? Instead of answering her, he pulled away, slid his hands in her hair and tucked at the pins holding it up. The dark blonde mass of silky curls fell in soft waves around her face, and he twirled one strand around his index finger.

“Josh? What are we doing here?” Her whispered question shot straight to his cock, and not trusting his voice to fucking work, he decided to show her instead. A soft gasp escaped her when he picked her up, set her on the kitchen counter, and pulling her legs apart stepped right between them. The action made her pencil skirt ride up, exposing the top of her stockings, and Josh groaned under his breath. He let his digits linger, half expecting her to slap them away, but when she opened her legs wider, he tore his gaze away from her pale flesh to check out her expression. Head down, she seemed mesmerized by the sight of his tanned hands against her skin, and the sweet scent of aroused woman filled his nostrils when he ran his hands slowly up her inner thighs. He could almost feel the heat of her cunt before her whisper stopped him.

“Josh?”

Leaving one of his hands where it was, he tipped her chin up with his index finger, satisfied beyond relief to see the same need he felt reflected back at him in her eyes. The hazel orbs had darkened to almost black, and when she licked her lips in a nervous gesture, his gaze followed the movements of her little pink tongue. Visions of her on her knees, with that sweet mouth wrapped around his dick, as he shot his jizz down her slender throat, made his cock jerk against the zipper of his jeans. He growled low in his throat at the thought of marking her thus, and her expressive eyes widened. Her breathing sped up even more, making her tits strain against the sensible blouse she wore for work. With the two top buttons undone, the third was threatening to give way under the rapid movement, giving him tantalizing glimpses of the soft swell of her breasts. Josh couldn’t help it. His self-control and good intentions went out of the window at her untutored responses to him, and he trailed his finger lower down the soft skin of her neck, over her collarbone and lower still, until he reached that tiny ivory button.

“I want you, little one.”

His voice dropped to the one he used in a scene without any conscious effort on his part, and when he flicked that button open, Emma’s sweet moan of surrender was music to his ears. Watching her closely for her reaction, he flicked the next button and so forth, until the sides of her blouse fell open, exposing her amazing rack. The lacy, mauve bra left little to the imagination. Josh continued his one fingered exploration, and they both groaned when he circled her nipples. Clearly visible through the lace, the little pink nubs hardened under his gentle ministrations, and Em’s breathing kicked up another notch.

“Please, I…”

Josh trailed his finger lower, over the soft swell of her abdomen, which caused her to suck in her belly, and he smiled at her action.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your curves, little one?”

Her surprised jerk and strangled half laugh told him he hadn’t, and Josh inwardly kicked himself.

“Since when? You have seen your girlfriends, right?”

There was a wealth of bitterness in those few words compounded by her hasty grab for her blouse. She pulled the ends closed and wrapped her arms around herself in a defensive move that tore at his heartstrings. The Dom in him wanted to order her to strip, to take her over his knee and paddle that luscious ass of hers for disrespecting her body shape like that, and making assumptions about him to boot, but he hadn’t earned that right yet.

So, instead of acting on that impulse, which pushed adrenaline through his veins, he did the next best thing. Stepped away, crossed his own arms over his chest and gave her his best don’t-talk-such-crap-subbie stare.

It didn’t take long before she caved in. Uncertainty crossed her features, followed by confusion, and when she dropped her gaze to his chest, he finally spoke.

“Let’s get one thing straight here, my sweet little Em, I do, indeed love your curves. In fact seeing you waltz out of here in those damn tight pencil skirts you wear for work has me so fucking hard I have to jerk off the minute you leave.”

Clearly startled by that revelation, Emma jerked her head up, opened her mouth to say something, but one look at his expression seemed to change her mind. The Dom in him almost roared when she dropped her gaze—to his chin this time—and kept it there. His girl was a natural, responding to him without even realizing what she was doing, and wasn’t that the biggest turn-on yet.

“Next, I don’t do girlfriends.” That brought her head up again, albeit briefly, and he smiled at her sharp intake of breath, and the confusion written all over her face. “I haven’t done for a long time, ever since I realized I was in love with my best friend.”

Where to Buy

Evernight Publishing | Amazon | Amazon UK | ARe | Bookstrand

About the Author

Doris is a writer of sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get.  From contemporary to paranormal, Time Travel, Sci-fi, BDSM, F/F, M/M, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.

Happily married for the last twenty-five years, she lives with her husband and their brood of nine in a far too small house filled with love, laughter, and chaos.

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Marvelous Monday Reads: Clouded Hell

Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, pumpkins! Today I’m featuring J.R. Gray and his deliciously depraved new erotic romance, Clouded Hell. Take it away, J.R.!


CloudedHellFINALI survive on avoidance. Physical pain to avoid the mental. Disposable flesh to avoid relationships. Work to avoid attachment. My club became my empire of avoidance. Inside the ring millions are won and lost. The fight is confined to breaths, actions and reactions, fists and pain. Rules don’t exist. Only my opponent exists.

I’d been avoiding my needs for far too long when Remi stumbles into the Inferno and I’m hungry. The promise of a submissive with no attachment is far too tempting. I can’t resist him. He was only supposed to be a distraction, but I know I’ll never get over him. There isn’t a chance in this clouded hell.

Story Excerpt

If I hadn’t seen the video of the fight, I wouldn’t have believed it. I clicked the button on my laptop to rewind it, to see the way his body moved. I gripped myself through my shorts and glanced over at Kai. He was busy inking a full back piece, and I doubted he’d even take a break for another hour. He couldn’t see me from where I sat. It would be so easy.

I trailed my fingers over the places Dante had left marks. I could almost taste them, even if the bruises had faded. I’d looked at them in the mirror over my bed and fucked my hand every night since I’d left. I groaned as I slipped my hand into my shorts.

I squeezed my shaft, digging my nails into the sensitive skin. I had to bite back a hiss of pain. Kai could easily walk out and see me. The rooms in the shop were three-quarter walls to divide the space with wide open doorways. Maybe I wanted to be caught. I kicked my feet out, watching a bead of sweat drip down Dante’s neck. When he threw a punch his muscles tightened, and it took me back to him swinging his belt. The sound of his fist hitting flesh was close, so close, to the way the leather sounded against mine.

I shouldn’t be imagining him touching me, but it was impossible not to. I wanted his hands on me. I wanted him to mark me with them. I was hit with the sudden realization he’d been acting when he was in the ring with me. He hadn’t even gone at half speed. He was a monster when he fought. It took every ounce of self-control I had to keep from getting up and into my Jeep to drive to the airport.

I used my free hand to unbutton my shorts and slide down my zipper, freeing my cock.

Where to Buy

Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
Print
Goodreads

About J.R. Gray

When not staying up all night writing, J.R. Gray can be found at the gym where it’s half assumed he is a permanent resident to fulfill his self-inflicted masochism. A dominant and a pilot, Gray finds it hard to be in the passenger seat of any car. He frequently interrupts real life, including normal sleep patterns and conversations, to jot down notes or plot bunnies. Commas are the bane of his existence even though it’s been fully acknowledged they are necessary, they continue to baffle and bewilder. If Gray wasn’t writing…well, that’s not possible. The buildup of untold stories would haunt Gray into an early grave, insanity or both. The idea of haunting has always appealed to him. J.R. Gray is genderqueer and prefers he/him pronouns.

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