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Wicked Wednesday Reads: The Tattoo Artist’s Mate
Happy Wednesday, darlings! Today I’m here with Raven McAllan to celebrate her collaboration with the late and very much missed Doris O’Connor, The Tattoo Artist’s Mate. Here’s what Raven has to say about it:
Hi there and thank you for welcoming to your blog, on this bittersweet occasion. (this is Raven)
As most people know, my bestie, the sister I’d never had, the other half of me, the lovely Doris O’Connor passed away in January from Cancer of an unknown primary.
To say this knocked me for six is an understatement. We knew it wasn’t going to be a good outcome, but it happened so fast. Those of you who followed her on Facebook and twitter will know how it went.
Ironically, she rang me to tell me, just as I was … at a large supermarket collecting for cancer research!
When she went into hospital she was in pain and bored. Nagging me over my Regencies (finish it already, write the sex, just do it) and wondering how to pass the time.
I remember a germ of an idea we’d had a couple of years ago about a tattoo artist who was a shifter. Wrote the first bit and sent it to her with a note … over to you…
I got a giggle gif and a thumbs up. Then Doris’s words. It was, I was told up to me to amalgamate everything.
So the Skype messages went back and forth, and we plotted the story, wrote it both in sequence and odd scenes we knew had to go in somewhere.
Until the time she was in too much pain to write any more. But she did make me promise to finish the book. Add as much as was needed, but finish it.
So I did.
This is the result of our collaboration.
I have two hopes … okay, three.
One, you enjoy it,
Two. you can’t see the seams,
Three, we sell lots and lots and lots and give Doria a fabulous bestseller send off.
When Isla Campbell leaves her so-called Dom, she is determined never to sub again. All she wants is her tattoo removed and to live a quiet life with no dominant, or domineering men in it.
Until she meets Gaspar MacDonald, tattoo artist and unbeknown to her, a bear shifter.
Isla calls to Gaspar in the most basic of ways, he knows she is his mate.
Now all he has to do is persuade Isla of that fact. Oh and explain he’s a Dom, and a shifter, and that subbing for your Dom is not what she thought it was, but much better.
Will Isla trust him enough to discover if they have what would be the perfect match?
Story Excerpt
I didn’t get a chance to answer. I was too busy trying not to come as he kissed and then sucked my nipples, and saints above, began to play with my clit. Oh Lordy, so bloody good. I think I moaned, but to be honest, I was drowning in the sensation so I had no idea.
Somehow, I managed to find his cock and stroke it. It was Noah’s turn to moan now.
“Fuck it, I want to be in you. Need to be in you, and I’ve no bloody condoms.” He moved away a bit and I took advantage of the fact to get onto my knees, take his cock into my mouth, and lave it.
Not a boy scout then.
“On the pill,” I mumbled around a mouthful of hot, hard, but soft as silk, male flesh. “Clean, and fuck it, fill me.” I took one long hard pull on his dick and let go with a plop. Better than an ice lolly any day.
Noah didn’t hesitate, thank goodness, and had me on my back and his cock poised at the entrance to my channel faster than I could say climax.
“Got to be now, love.”
Just as well.
He pushed. I clenched my inner muscles—thank goodness for Kegel exercises—and held him tight. Noah swore and laughed. I grinned and we set up that age-old motion of in, out, tighten, release until I felt him swell even more inside me.
My nipples hurt in the best possible way.
“Sheesh, now got to be, oh Lord, help please…” I was almost incoherent, sobbing, throbbing, and any other ing you could mention. It was pleasure, it was pain, it was…
“Now!” Noah roared, and his hot, sticky release filled me.
“Yes.” I let myself fly and saw stars as my climax hit me with all the subtlety of a baseball hit by a champion.
Yeah, I was a screamer. Did I care? Not one bit. I moaned, groaned, and wriggled as well. Loved it all.
Where to Buy
Amazon US | Amazon UK | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iTunes | Evernight | Smashwords
About the Authors
Raven McAllan
Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats — their children having flown the nest — surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland — the midge.
Her very understanding and long-suffering DH, is used to his questions unanswered, the dust bunnies greeting him as he walks through the door, and rescuing burned offerings from the Aga. (And passing her a glass of wine as she types furiously.)
Website | Blog | Raven’s Facebook | Author Page on Facebook | Twitter
Doris O’Connor
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, Sci-fi, BDSM, M/M, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.
Website | Twitter | Facebook | Pinterest | Instagram | Evernight Publishing
Amazon | BookStrand | Barnes & Noble
Marvelous Monday Reads: The Furnace Man
Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, petals! Today I’m here with Raven McAllan, writing as Kera Faire, and her smouldering new dark romance The Furnace Man (Death Isle 1), now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine erotic romance. Take it away, ma’am!
Hi all, Raven chatting.
It’s so lovely to be here, and talking about The Furnace Man, the latest book by Kera Faire, my dark side.
I’m very lucky having two author sides of me, as I can indulge what I like doing best—creating stories with a happy ever after—in so many different ways. I just swap hats so to speak. It might not work for everyone, but it does for me.
This series, Dark Isle, is darker than my Raven stories. Mainly set around an island on Loch Lomond, in Scotland, The Furnace Man takes a bit of a new track, by starting in a glass works in Yorkshire. I just happened to go to the grand opening of a new furnace, and got chatting. The Furnace Man is the result.
Of course we end up on Dark Isle…also known aptly as Death Isle, an island in Loch Lomond, which is handy as it is not that far from where I live. Good excuse to procrastinate and well, enjoy the scenery. A flask of coffee, a g-f biscuit or three and my lap top. Perfect. Well I hope so.
Happy reading
love Raven/Kera
Don’t piss off the furnace man.
It might be a standing joke around the glass factory—he’ll mix you with the sand and burn you, leaving nothing left to discover—but Lindsey Earnshaw is about to find out the truth behind it.
Placed there to spy on the place on behalf of the government, a warning message brings forth not only a dead body, but also the one man she’s never forgotten.
Michael Hoult cannot believe his eyes, when his ex-wife turns out to be the receptionist on duty. Having to drug her in order to not blow his cover will not earn him her renewed submission, neither will whisking her away to the Death Isle.
Duty first, though. It cost him his marriage all those years ago, but with Lindsey now working for the same side, can they not only catch a killer, but also rediscover each other?
Story Excerpt
“Nice now, safe word or suck me off.” He waited as she gulped and hesitated. She swayed towards him and straightened. Many people didn’t involve sex in their play; he and Lindsey always had and that was how he wanted it to be now. However, he remembered oral was something she’d never been keen on and eventually said it was a soft limit. It had never changed and nor had she gone down on him more than a few times, and never ever swallowed his cum. Not something he’d ever encountered before or indeed after Lindsey. She’d tried and after gagging and throwing up, had said swallowing was a big fat red no-no. He’d accepted it, but had missed that special closeness only being jerked off by your partner could bring. But Lindsey was his lady, his sub, he had loved her—still did—and her pleasure came first.
Perhaps it was unfair to throw her into this scenario so quickly, but he knew his pet. She could go round the houses for ever. He intended to show her he would not be fazed or upset by her limits whatever.
“Pet, you need to tell me where you are in this. Safe word.” He rapped his demands out. “Now.”
“Green to lick,” she said so softly he had to strain to hear. “I hope.” She took his cock in between her hands and delicately licked the head.
His pre-cum leaked fast and furious and she drew back and looked at it.
Typical. The one time I could do with it taking its time it comes like the clappers.
“It’s fine,” she said with awe in her voice. “Green.” She took more of his length in her mouth and began to nibble and suck.
He saw stars as the tug and pull became stronger. God almighty, did she know the affect she was having on him? He was going to come if she didn’t slow down or pull back.
“Pet, enough, I’m about to shoot.” Michael tugged her hair, hard enough to make her release him. Or so he hoped.
“Lindsey. Pet, stop now.” Did he sound Dom-like enough? It was bloody hard when half of him would like no more than to fuck her mouth until he filled it with cum, and watched the excess run down her cheeks. But he didn’t truly want to. Not yet. Baby steps.
His command evidently got to her because she moved her mouth from his with a gentle plop. The confusion and hurt in her eyes hit him. “Pet, baby steps,” he said softly as he helped her to her feet. “I would happily fill your mouth and fuck it. But, not today. We have so much more to explore and hopefully have a lifetime to do everything in.” Would she understand without him getting too graphic? “I want to fuck your sweet pussy. Fill you that way. Relearn how you sigh and how well our bodies mesh. Make you scream as you come. Shudder and shake for me. Show you how much I love you, have never stopped loving you, and want this to be our happy ever after.”
Lindsey sighed and her eyes became misty. “Sir, My Michael, oh yes. I feel the same. You are mine. My lover, my friend and my Sir. I want it all as well.”
“First then.” Michael paused, tugged off her cardigan and threw it onto the floor. That’s better. Now…” He unzipped her jeans so he could run one finger around her pantie leg. “Firstly, I want you naked so I can spank your sweet ass until it’s the rosy color of that cushion over there.” He slid her panties and jeans down her legs and helped her step out of them. “I want to see my hand print and know that outline shows you are mine. Arms up.” Her t-shirt followed the cardigan. “Stand still, just like that with your arms up. Don’t lower them.”
Michael waited as she did as he demanded, grabbed her ass hard to keep her in place and lowered his lips to the lacy cups of her bra.
And sucked hard.
Lindsey bucked. “Oh grief oh my, oh hell…Oh god, green bloody green.”
He took that as a good sign, let go of her nipples and ignored her moan as he blew on each hard nub in turn. Deftly he unclipped her bra and flung it in the direction of the rest of her clothes. Now he wished he’d taken her to the playroom. He knew no one was playing in it and he had a cupboard full of delicious things he could use on her. All still new and in their packets. Here, he’d have to be innovative and make do.
At least he had his hands. Michael unclenched his fingers and watched her pupils dilate as he smacked her ass a couple of times. “What color are clothes pegs?” he asked casually. “Specifically on your breasts, nipples and ass.”
“Clo… Pegs?” Her voice rose to a high-pitched squeak. “Pegs on my…oh my…” She blinked. “Can you?”
Michael smiled. “Oh yes. But maybe not yet?”
She nodded. “Perhaps not. I need to rediscover pain, I reckon. Let’s say yellow.”
“Then maybe we should start.” He pondered for a moment. “Here, I think.” He sat on the nearest chair and pulled her to lie over his lap, head to one side, legs to the other. “Color, pet?”
He could visualize her rolling her eyes at him for being so insistent. However she answered him readily, and politely. “Green, Sir.”
“Then, pet, count. Ten on each side and then I’m going to fuck your wet and willing pussy.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said fervently.
Michael laughed as he raised his hand. He hit her right buttock firmly and then rubbed away the sting as she gasped.
“O…One.”
“Good girl.” He repeated the actions on the other globe. By six on each side Lindsey was writhing and he opened his legs enough to reach between them and pinch her clit hard. “No coming or I’ll stop now.”
“Eh?” She sounded dazed. “F…flip, no…no. Don’t stop.”
“Then behave.”
Where to Buy
Evernight | Amazon UK | Amazon US
About the Author
Raven/Kera lives in Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge.
A lover of reading, she appreciates the history inside a book, and the chance to peek into the lives of those from years ago. Raven admits that she enjoys the research for her books almost as much as the writing; so much so, that sometimes she realizes she’s strayed way past the information she needs to know, and not a paragraph has been added to her WIP.
Her lovely long-suffering husband is learning to love the dust bunnies, work the Aga, and be on stand-by with a glass of wine.
Website | Blog | Facebook Personal Page | Facebook Author Page | Twitter
Wicked Wednesday Reads: Bomber’s Moon
Oh, look — it’s Wednesday, which means you need a little something extra to help you over Hump Day. Never fear, for today I’m here with Raven McAllan’s amazing new historical erotic romance Bomber’s Moon, now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of erotic romance. Take it away, Raven!
I never thought, as a child and asking my mum, dad, gran (known as nan) and aunts to ‘tell me a story about the war’, that all these years later, I’d still remember those stories and use them as the basis for a book.
I’m so glad I did.
When I first had the idea for Bombers Moon, I just knew it would be set in Northamptonshire, where my mum as a teen was evacuated to, with her employment.
As much as the idea of a book set in London, in the blitz intrigued me, all mum ever said was ‘it was scary, noisy and as your granddad worked for the railways we got out own railway employees and families tube station to hide in’.
Then I remembered the tales of Northamptonshire. Of being locked out, getting stuck up a wall, although not knickerless—well I don’t think so *wink*. How they used charcoal or gravy browning to put ‘stocking seams’ up their legs, and bought wooden clogs and clacked around the draughty old stone-floored manor house they lived and worked in. The older ladies who worked with them, got so sick of the racket, they clubbed together and bought my mum and her friend a pair of slippers each.
My aunt went out with a Yank (as all American service men evidently were called), another relative fell off her bike and was rescued by a farmer, and evidently mum did dance with the local lord of the manor.
Thus, Bombers Moon was born.
Who gets caught by the man of her dreams bare-assed and halfway up a wall? Lady Chrissie Stride, of course.
It’s just her luck that she encounters Baronet Archie Duggan. On top of that, the house her London employers requisitioned to keep its staff safe from The Blitz is locked. Climbing the wall seemed like a good idea, until Archie turns up. At least he doesn’t seem to know it’s her.
Archie recognizes Chrissie almost immediately. He never expected to meet her again in deepest Northamptonshire. This time around he is determined to claim the woman he loved and lost. With the war on, priorities change, and love is too important to conform to niceties.
Will the star-crossed lovers finally find their happily ever after?
Story Excerpt
Chrissie gulped. He was big—everywhere. She looked downward, her vision drawn to his long thick cock, which stood out proudly from its nest of hair. She averted her eyes from the crisscross of scars on his leg and arm. Those she understood, he neither wanted to think or talk about just then.
And that’s going to fit in my daffodil? The euphemism used by so many of her friends seemed silly now, but there was no way she could use the words she heard bandied about so freely in the pub or by the older women at work.
Honey pot! That’s it. Merle’s expression came to her. My honey pot! Or Pussy. Okay I can live with that, but…cu… She couldn’t even think the word.
She looked at his body with frank regard. Who knew if she’d ever get a chance to see him like this again? Out of the corner of her eyes she saw the scars on his leg and arm were still red, angry-looking and pronounced. She bit her lips to stop her moan escaping and held back tears. It was hard not to cry for all he and thousands of others had been through and were still going through. But yet again, her eyes were drawn in one direction. His massive erection stood out stiff and proud. Chrissie gulped, her earlier fears resurfacing. That would really fit inside her? Oh, my.
Archie correctly read her expression. “Not only fit, but a perfect fit,” he assured her. “With room to move. Come and lie down here.” He walked to the bed and rolled back the sheet and blankets before kneeling awkwardly in front of her. “Hold on a sec, something needs doing first.”
It was on the tip of Chrissie’s tongue to tell him she’d do it, whatever it was, when it hit her that he didn’t want help or sympathy. He wanted to woo her. Her insides turned to mush. How perfect.
“Think we’ll have these off as well. Can’t ruin nylons, can we?” He rolled them down before putting one hand behind her, unhooking her brassiere, and putting the clothing on a chair. The pressure that moving the straps down had put on her chest immediately lifted, as Archie ran his thumbs over the swell of her breasts, and chuckled.
“God almighty, Chrissie you are so bloody receptive for a virgin. It’s marvelous. I’m going to enjoy showing you what we can do together.” He pinched each nipple in turn and kissed the nape of her neck as he kneaded her breasts.
She could tell he’d had plenty of practice. Her pussy clenched at the unwelcome thought of him doing all these things with someone else.
Grow up. He’s almost thirty, and there’s a war on.
“Now, let me see. What have we here?” Once again he kissed one nipple, then the other. “Time to itemize I think. Two breasts perfect to fit my hands. Two nipples to suckle.” He moved his hands to let his fingers play with her clitoris, teasing her hairs, and her navel. “One cunt all for me.”
Chrissie blushed. Why could he say that with such insouciance and she not even think it? It must be a man thing. However, emboldened, Chrissie licked her lips, heard him groan and then reached out to touch Archie’s manhood. His skin was warm and soft and he jolted and moaned as she feathered her fingers over him. One step further than she’d ever taken. Only once had she dared rub him through his trousers, and his groan had her moving her hand in a hurry.
She mimicked his movements, kissed his nipples, and then, heartened by his response, bent double to put the tip of his penis in her mouth and taste the juices there. They were salty and thick. Chrissie rolled them over her tongue as she remembered a leaflet one of the girls at school found in her brother’s room and brought to class to show them. Crudely written and badly produced, the drawings had them all giggling and blushing for weeks. She wondered just how many of her peers had tried what it suggested. Chrissie moved and circled Archie’s tip with her tongue again.
I could get used to this. The more I do this, the bigger he gets. A thought crossed her mind. Would he get too big for her? It wasn’t a question she felt she could ask.
Archie groaned, and she tried to pull back, scared she was doing something wrong. “Hell, Chrissie, that’s so damned good, I’ll come,” he said in a strangled tone. “For the Lord’s sake, get onto the bed and give me a chance to get inside you.” He moved over her, his tip barely touching her curls.
“Archie, what if I don’t want to, you know…” She didn’t know how to put her fears into words, and flapped her and in the air like a demented owl flapping its wing. It was lucky he understood her incoherent beseeching.
“No problem, darling. I’ll come like a gentleman.” He indicated the towel laid in readiness beside him. And moved again, nearer and nearer, and waited. “Yes?”
Chrissie held her breath. This was it. “Oh yes.”
His cock twitched, and without conscious thought, Chrissie opened her legs wide, ready to welcome him. This was it. Soon she, Chrissie Stride, would no longer be sweet and innocent but a woman of the world.
There was a loud hammering on the farmhouse door.
“What the bloody hell?” Archie stopped mid movement. His position looked precarious as he kneeled half on and half off her.
A voice, gruff and urgent, was shouting.
“Mr. Archie, Mr. Archie. Come quick. The rick’s on fire!”
Saved by the bell, she thought hysterically as she watched Archie scramble into his clothes, his cock being most reluctant to be treated in such a way. Not that she’d wanted saving. In fact, she felt uncomfortable. It wasn’t right. She’d at least climaxed. Goodness knows how Archie felt, still unreleased so to speak.
Where to Buy
Evernight Publishing
All Romance eBooks
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Bookstrand
About Raven McAllan
Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge.
Her very understanding, and long-suffering DH, is used to his questions unanswered, the dust bunnies greeting him as he walks through the door, and rescuing burned offerings from the Aga. (And passing her a glass of wine as she types furiously.)
Website | Blog | Facebook Personal Page | Facebook Author Page | Twitter
Wicked Wednesday Reads: The Dukes’ Christmas Abductions
Whee, it’s Wednesday! And today you ARE going to be celebrating because the awesome Doris O’Connor and Raven McAllan have done it again with their time traveling Regency erotic romance The Dukes’ Christmas Abductions, now available from Evernight Publishing and other online retailers of fine erotic romance. Okay, ladies, tell us all about it!
Thanks so much for having the lovely Raven and me on your blog today. You know, we often talked about writing a book together, but that’s as far as it went. Then our reader group The RavdorChicks started nagging us—in the nicest possible way of course—that they would love us to write a story together.
So, after much frantic skype messaging, where we brainstormed ideas, and one very sleepless night from me, when the start of a workable story actually came to me, the idea was born.
What followed was a fun filled four days with Raven in Scotland, where we put our heads down, fuelled by wine, chocolate, and Gin&Tonics, and our fingers flew.
We had so much fun writing this story I can say this won’t be our last collaboration. We hope readers will like The Dukes’ Christmas Abductions as much as we loved writing this story.
Much love from both of us!
Stay naughty now, folks.
D & R xxx
Follow your heart and cross space and time…
When Clara lands the job as curator of Faversham House it’s a dream come true. Especially when her favorite Regency Erotica writer Vicky Hopewell shadows her in the run up to the annual estate ball—a tradition left over from Regency times.
The costume ball is always the highlight of the year, but neither woman expects to be confronted by two drop dead gorgeous Dukes.
Daniel Danvers, the Duke of Hockwell thinks Clara is one of the servants invited to the estate ball.
Kit Capel, the Duke of Aulban cannot understand why his wife Victoria acts as though she doesn’t know him.
As both couples slowly come to terms with the reality of their situations, can they find happiness? Is it as simple as following your heart?
Story Excerpt
Daniel paused mid swatting the delectable arse in front of him to rub, what must be a considerable ache by now, away. His quarry had stopped screaming for this Vicky, at last, and unless his senses were completely off, she was starting to enjoy his attention. Certainly her breaths were coming in short gasps, and instead of struggling, she was raising her bottom into every carefully placed swat of his hand.
The evening was definitely looking up. As was his cock, which was in danger of splitting his evening breeches.
There was one way to find out for sure. Daniel slipped his fingers under the hideous undergarments, and smirked at the all over body shiver his girl gave. Satisfied with not only her reaction but also by the wet, hair-free cunt he found, he let his digits linger.
“Oh, god.”
Her breathless moan spurred him on, and he grinned when he found her hidden pearl. She shivered again when he circled the tight nub, and Daniel set up lazy circles, designed to drive any woman wild. This chit proved no exception. The air grew heavy with the musk of aroused woman, and Daniel inhaled deeply, before he stopped the movement.
A strangled groan escaped his girl, and he tapped her arse again, when she tried to rub her cunt on his fingers.
“Oh, no, you don’t. I want the truth, starting with your name, and maybe then I’ll let you find release. Only on my say so, though, are we clear here, girl?”
“Fuck, yes … ow.”
Her arse cheeks wobbled most satisfactorily, when he yanked that odd fabric down to her knees, and delivered a few more swats to her delectable arse. The woman had a derriere made for fucking, hips to grab onto while he sunk his cock into her body and claimed what was his. That thought made his head come up. His? He had no business having proprietary thoughts toward a servant like that.
“Fuck, we most certainly will, but not without you telling me who you are, so…” He delivered another open handed swat across both of her arse cheeks this time, and her answering deep throated moan made him go so hard it was a wonder he hadn’t spilled in his breeches yet.
“Clara, Sir. My name is Clara.”
Daniel slid his fingers through her sodden slit, and flicked her nub once, causing her to give another one of those cock hardening moans.
“Very nice, but the correct address would be my lord, chit, would it not?”
A strangled groan was his response this time, and when he withdrew his fingers again, she slumped.
“Sorry, My Lord.”
The girl, Clara, he mentally amended, had fire, that was for sure, if the intonation she gave his title was anything to go by. A certain amount of boldness was something Daniel certainly appreciated in his bed partners. If Clara was a lady’s maid, she was wasted in that position. As his mistress, however… His mood improved dramatically as that thought took hold.
It was Christmas, time to be charitable and all that went with such bounty, and what could be better than elevating this lovely creature from her status of mere servant to his mistress.
Mind thus made up, it was time to taste her nectar and to see if what he was suspecting would be true. That Clara and he would mesh perfectly in the bedroom, and he could let his darker desires shine through.
He indulged himself by sliding several digits through her wet cunt, lubricating them with her juices, before he slipped one finger into her tight channel, and brought his thumb to press against the puckered hole, guarding that entrance.
Clara stiffened slightly, but she didn’t voice any protest, and when he started to thrust the finger in her cunt slowly in and out of her, she gasped. Her hips rose in involuntary jerks, which told him how close she already was to exploding under his ministrations. Her untutored responses made him want to hurry this along, but Daniel was never an inconsiderate lover. He would give her several releases before he claimed his own.
“Good girl, and who do you work for?”
Clara moaned and writhed against him, her internal muscles fluttering around his fingers in rippling moves, which signaled her impending orgasm as clearly as the rosy flush spreading across her skin. So beautifully responsive. She jerked when he tapped her nub, and then withdrew his hand.
“Faversham Estate. Oh god, please, My Lord … I.” The rest of her pretty little plea was lost in a screech as he swung her off his lap and onto his bed. Her breasts bounced most satisfactorily, and her lovely almond shaped green eyes widened further when he crawled onto the bed with her, and straddled her midriff. Daniel grasped her arms and brought them high above her head. The action made her breasts rise up in silent offering, and Daniel smirked.
“Hmm, that would mean you work for me. How delightful. Whatever position you hold here, I much prefer you in this one, unable to move and at my mercy. I’m going to tie your wrists together and tether you to one of the posts, sweet Clara. Is that acceptable to you?”
Where to Buy
Evernight
Amazon
Amazon UK
ARe
Bookstrand
About Doris O’Connor and Raven McAllan
Doris O’Connor
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.
Stalk her in these places:
Website | Reader Group | Tsu | Twitter | Facebook | Pinterest | Evernight Publishing
Amazon | All Romance E-Books | BookStrand | Barnes&Noble
Raven McAllan
Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge.
A lover of reading, she appreciates the history inside a book, and the chance to peek into the lives of those from years ago. Raven admits that she enjoys the research for her books almost as much as the writing; so much so, that sometimes she realizes she’s strayed way past the information she needs to know, and not a paragraph has been added to her WIP.
She admits she’s no domestic goddess, and wonders why tourists think she might run the local bed and breakfast. She doesn’t.
Her lovely long-suffering husband is learning to love the dust bunnies, work the Aga, and be on stand-by with a glass of wine.
Stalk her in these places:
Website | Amazon | Facebook | Facebook (Author Page) | ARe | Bookstrand Twitter
Fabulous Friday Reads: Sybille’s Lord
TGIF! Let’s kick off the weekend with Raven McAllan’s new book Sybille’s Lord, now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine erotic romance. Take it away, Raven!
Hi there, thanks for letting me drop by. waves madly
I’m so excited. Sybille’s Lord is ready to jump onto your eReader.
This is the third story in the Moon Curse series.
Compromised, the first story is a prequel, and a free read. That’s Theo and Mijo’s story. The rest of the books are their children’s stories as they try to make their family’s fortunes
You can download Compromised here on the Evernight website, or from Amazon, Are or Bookstrand
The second story is Lord Suitor. That’s Tessa’s story. You can buy that here on Evernight, or from the aforementioned sources.
And now drum roll book 3, Sybille’s Lord is out on 11th September and yes you can get it from Evernight here.
That of course is Sybille’s story.
When you have to marry to save your family’s fortunes, and the man of your dreams offers for you, you ought to be ecstatic, right?
Not, if you want it all, you’re not. Having witnessed first hand a love match in the shining example of her parents, Sybille is not prepared to settle for anything less than true love.
Thomas, Lord Jeavons might have proposed, but does he love her? Especially once she tells him her secrets.
For his part, Thom is enchanted, and far from being put off by Sybille’s demands, he vows to do everything in his power to convince her that he is the only man for her—both in and out of the bedroom.
With her family’s good name at stake, can they solve all their issues before it is too late and find their own happy ever after?
Story Excerpt
“Now where were we? Ah yes you were undressing me. However, I think I’ll do the next bit. Otherwise your education might push ahead faster than either of us anticipated.” Thom gestured to the bulge in his pantaloons. “My pego is so desirous of making your acquaintance, I might spill before he gets the chance.”
Sybille nodded, although she wasn’t really sure what he meant.
Thom grinned, as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his pantaloons and inched them over his cock. “When a man is as excited as I am, sometimes he can spill his seed even before he enters a woman. Now we all know it is preferable to withdraw from her so…” He stopped. “Ah, do you understand what I mean?”
“Well, of course. If you don’t want a child on the wrong side of the blanket you don’t sow your seed in fertile ground.” Thank goodness for those pamphlets. “So you withdraw.”
Thom finished taking off his clothes. “Exactly.” He collected a ewer of water and a towel, and put them next to the wine. As he moved, his pego bobbed and swayed.
Almost as if it is introducing itself. Sybille mentally scoffed at herself. Giving a man’s staff a mind of its own. What next? Imagining it was about to speak?
Thom lifted the covers and crawled onto the bed next to her. “Let me warm you up.”
“I’m not… ah well ohhh my…” She spluttered to a halt as he took her nipple into his mouth and tugged. A hot flame of awareness streaked through her. She moved her legs restlessly, searching for a way to relieve the ache in between her thighs.
“Wait, my love.” Thom moved his ministrations to her other breast. He stroked her belly in soft soothing circles and edged his fingers lower, to ruffle the curls that covered her mound. “So beautiful.”
Sybille moaned. The soft voice teased her senses once more as she arched up into his hand.
“Slowly, love.”
It was as if she sat beside the bed, watching them. Thom kicked the covers to the bottom of the bed, and parted her legs with his thigh. Then she not only saw in her mind, but also felt one long, elegant finger enter her. She gasped. It was oh so different from anything she had sought to do to herself.
He paused. “All right? Tell me if not.”
“Oh so very right. I want more.”
“Impatient.” He kissed her nose. “All things come to…”
“Those who wait. I have waited.”
“So you have.” He added another finger, and then, as she clenched and relaxed her muscles around him, touched her nub with his thumb.
Tremors rushed through her and she writhed and arched off the bed. Thom held her down and increased the pressure. “Fly for me, my love.” He nipped her nipple with his teeth.
That connection from breast to where his fingers teased and pushed, increased tenfold.
Lights flashed before her eyes, stars danced in front of her, and her body was on fire. She was falling over the edge and into that place where nothing mattered except them.
With a keening cry, Sybille fell into the abyss.
Where to Buy
Evernight Publishing
Amazon US
Amazon UK
All Romance eBooks
BookStrand
About Raven McAllan
Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge.
Her very understanding, and long-suffering DH, is used to his questions unanswered, the dust bunnies greeting him as he walks through the door, and rescuing burned offerings from the Aga. (And passing her a glass of wine as she types furiously.)
Where to find Raven McAllan
Wicked Wednesday Reads: Lord Suitor (Cursed Treasure Book 2)
It’s time once again to help you over your Hump Day and spice up your week. Today I’m featuring the delicious new Regency romance Lord Suitor by Raven McAllan. Take it away, Raven!
It’s no secret that I fell into writing Regency romance by accident. And definitely no secret how much I love both the writing and the research. It’s so much easier these days, with search engines as well as very helpful librarians on our library van. (Once a week into the village and they get almost everything I ask for.) Once I decide I need information everything else gets forgotten about as I flit from one thing to another. Sometimes I end up nowhere near what I was looking for, but oh boy I’ve enjoyed it.
The idea for this series came about, strangely when I saw a stately home and it’s contents were threatened to be parted due to mismanagement over years and of course death duties.
I didn’t dwell on the death duty bit, but I’ve got an idea plotted around it…, but I did have a light bulb moment about someone with a fortune and someone without…
Of course, I didn’t know then that the fortune was said to be cursed.
Or that I’d have a prequel of the story of how… and why… before the grown up children decided to rid the family of the curse and make a fortune again…
That’s a free read from Evernight and me…Compromised.
A smuggler and an aristocrat. Who should Tessa chose?
Both professed their love for her, both intrigued her. How could she pick one over the other?
When Tessa was accosted by a smuggler her life took a turn for the better. Or so she thought. Until Nathaniel, Lord Fenniston indicated his interest in her. She had to marry to help her family, but her loyalties are torn.
Either man could be the one, but how can she decide? Torn between them, Tessa must think hard and fast.
Luckily, fate has it’s own way of deciding, and Tessa had no option but to do as it dictates.
Story Excerpt
“You’ve gone and done it now, youngster. She be dead. How you goi’n t’splain that to his Lor’ship, eh?” The rough voice echoed and fluctuated like the sound of waves rushing in and out of one of the numerous caves in the cliffs below Birch House. Tessa took a sharp inward breath and winced as one of the drums of the local regiment played a brisk march on her skull. How dare they? She needed to sleep, not be entertained in such a manner.
“She’s not dead,” the smooth-as-her-morning-chocolate voice said. “I didn’t hit her that hard, a mere tap. Just to let the ponies get on. See, she’s still breathing, you fool. Look, her bosom is heaving like a ship under full sail.”
A ship under full sail indeed. She may be nicely endowed in that area, but not to those extremes. That picture in her mind conjured up Lady Frame, whose bosom was akin to his description.
Tessa moaned and struggled to sit up. Strong hands held her firmly.
“Don’t wriggle, woman. You may well do me a mischief if you do, and I swear you might not welcome the results.”
She stilled immediately as a distinct bulge made its presence known in the cleft of her arse.
“There now, see? She’s wakening.” The velvety, cultured voice spoke once more.
Was it familiar? Tessa couldn’t get her thoughts straight enough to work that out.
“Come on, sweetheart, show us you’re back with us again.” Those strong arms—she had no reason to believe it was any other—gathered her up, and she felt safe and cossetted as a calloused hand stroked her cheek and then gave it a gentle tap. “Stop pretending.”
If she considered she was cosseted before, now she felt scolded like a recalcitrant child.
“Get you off, young sir.” The rough voice had become urgent. “Leave her with me. I’ll knock her out again and get away afore she comes around again.”
“Rubbish, enough of the violent thoughts. You go and do your bit, and I’ll speak to you tomorrow. She won’t see my face. The men need to know all is well, and you can reach them better than I can. I’ll do what is needed here. Off you go before my lady opens her eyes and clocks your ugly phizog. It might send her off again.”
There was a cackle of laughter, then a rustle and the fading sound of someone walking over what sounded like shingle.
“Come on now, I know you’re awake. Your breathing changed. Stop playing the dead man, and let’s get on.”
She bit her lip as she tried to open her eyes. They didn’t want to cooperate, and she suddenly realized why.
“Why am I blindfolded?” Was that weak and whinging voice really hers? “Take it off at once.” There, surely that sounded more in command?
It seemed not. Someone laughed.
“Sorry, sweetheart, nothing doing. It’s in your own best interest not to see anything. Look to the wall while the gentlemen do their work.”
Where to Buy
Evernight Publishing
Amazon US
Amazon UK
All Romance eBooks
Bookstrand
About Raven McAllan
Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge.
A lover of reading, she appreciates the history inside a book, and the chance to peek into the lives of those from years ago. Raven admits that she enjoys the research for her books almost as much as the writing; so much so, that sometimes she realizes she’s strayed way past the information she needs to know, and not a paragraph has been added to her WIP.
Her lovely long-suffering husband is learning to love the dust bunnies, work the Aga, and be on stand-by with a glass of wine.
Where to find Raven McAllan
Website
Blog
Facebook Personal Page
Facebook Author Page
Twitter
Fabulous Friday Reads: The Racing Driver’s Wife
Let’s kick off this lovely weekend with Raven McAllan and the latest entry in her smouldering new series, Their Wives. The Racing Driver’s Wife is now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine erotic romance. Take it away, Raven!
What is it with some men and their attitudes?
Hot bods, hot blooded and often hot tempered. You know, speak first, regret it later.
Yeah, them. They might make you shiver quiver and tingle—however that level of hotness can be hard to live with. They can’t help themselves, bless them, sometimes, when they try to shield their love from all the nasties that could affect them.
And we all know how damned annoying that is. Why do they think we’re such fragile little flowers we can’t cope. Because if they think that, sometimes, we begin to think it as well…
And that’s where the problems can start…
My first book in this series, called Their Wives is already out. (The Rock Star’s wife)
Racing driver Gael Lorenzo is used to taking his life in his hands, if only he could say the same for his errant wife. He meant his wedding vows, and there will never be another woman for him, but what can he do to win her back?
Darcy thought she knew the risks of being married to a man who lives for his sport. The reality of the race track, however, proves too much for her. Nevertheless, giving Gael up entirely, is not an option either.
When circumstances force them back into each other’s company, neither one of them can let this chance go. Together they are stronger than apart, and their marriage is worth fighting for, isn’t it?
Story Excerpt
Gael Lorenzo ducked the remote control as it flew through the air in his direction, and caught it in one hand.
“How on earth you ever get from A to B when your coordination is so bad I have no conception,” he said as he walked into the room and put the control down on the table. He made sure it was well out of Darcy’s arm reach. He knew how sneaky she could be if she thought the occasion warranted it. Damned if he wasn’t more nervous then before a race. He was under no illusion that the next few moments were going to be sticky. “That was more likely to hit the window than me.”
Darcy made a sound somewhere between a scream and a snort. “Ass. You scared the living daylights out of me. And as for your one-upmanship, how on earth you lie so successfully and don’t bat an eyelid, I have no conception,” Darcy said. “‛My wife is my life’,” she parroted and rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, that’ll be right. After your car, your team and…”
“And nothing, cara.” One-upmanship? He’d thought he was very restrained. He made no mention of open doors, lack of security, self-preservation or the like. “You believe what you will, but I speak the truth. If my wife would let it be so.” He shrugged. “Then it would be. However, she chooses to live her own life, and I have to accept that.” He winced as he became oh-so-very Italian. It was a measure of his concern and the knowledge of just how important this meeting was.
Darcy turned toward the television where the bouncy idiot he’d had to endure warbled on in her happy-clappy manner. Gael braced himself. He knew what was about to come, and he’d hoped to speak to Darcy beforehand. It seemed a tractor and trailer, and a laden log lorry who just knew they owned the road, had put paid to that. He’d spent twenty minutes breathing their fumes, before passing in a spot only the brave or foolhardy would use. It wasn’t that you couldn’t see any oncoming traffic—the road ran straight for nigh on half a mile. It was the width of the ruts and gravel that was tricky. Gael got by with no more than an inch on each side and a dozen or so scratches from the gravel where it jumped up and scored the paintwork. As it was a hire car, he guessed that his chance of a cheap rental ever again had just disappeared down the toilet.
“…and so you say this woman is lying?” The voice reverberated around the room. “In fact you’re happily married? There is a wife, but she’s not hidden away somewhere? So why isn’t she with you? Are you estranged?”
Darcy turned to him, and if he had one wish, it would be to banish the pained look in her eyes. Heaven help him, he’d done his best to avert the interview, but some ferrety reporter had discovered he was married and of course it was full bodied fodder for the gossip columns. Gael knew fine and well how his boring, no companion, race, practice, test, train and sleep regime annoyed them. Even more so because in his youth he’d kept most of them in business.
“Cara, I…”
“Shh, I’m listening to what my husband has decided to say.” Darcy turned her back on him. “Even if he chooses not to say it to me. Strange, that.”
Gael spent a few seconds admiring the curve of her spine and the way a few tendrils of reddish brown hair tickled the nape of her neck before he shrugged and wandered into the kitchen. After several wrong attempts he found mugs and coffee and set the stovetop machine on the hotplate to percolate.
It was inevitable this day would come, but he wished it hadn’t been mid season, where his chances for in-depth discussion would be few and far between. Unless he could persuade Darcy to accompany him to the track, and after today there was less likelihood of that than persuading her to fly to the moon.
He was pouring the liquid into two mugs when a sound alerted him to her presence. She leaned against the doorjamb, her long legs bare and a tiny skirt and strappy top covering what needed to be covered to preserve her decency.
“What a load of cobblers you spouted. ‘My wife has a busy life and we prefer to have our time together without interruptions. Those moments are precious and I’m greedy enough not to want to share them with anyone else. Lucky for me she feels the same’.” Darcy parroted his explanation in the interview in a sarcastic tone. “Yuck, so icky-sicky. Why didn’t you just divorce me?” She held her sunglasses by one of the arms and spun them around before jamming them on her nose. “You have grounds. I left you.”
It was a pity, because Gael could no longer see her eyes to gauge her reaction to his words. “Sadly I couldn’t find any Italian coffee, but I’ve done the best I could.”
“You get whatever was on offer and lump it. I buy for myself, not for unwelcomed guests.”
He winced very theatrically, and was immediately ashamed when she coloured and looked away from him.
“Why should I divorce you? I took my vows in all faith, and intended to abide by them. I still do. In sickness and in health, in good times and bad. Etcetera. The fact we are apart does not negate my love for you. That strengthens every day. It is above everything. It’s your choice not to be with me, and I have to accede to your preference.” He took a swallow of coffee and grimaced. “It was pigs’ swill on sale, cara. You were robbed if they called it coffee. False advertising.”
“Join the real world, caro. See how the most of us live.”
Where to Buy
Evernight Publishing
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks
BookStrand
About Raven McAllan
A multi-published, best selling author of erotic romance, Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband, in a house much too big for them—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge. As once she is writing she is oblivious to everything else, her lovely long-suffering husband is learning to love the dust bunnies, work the Aga, and be on stand-by with a glass of wine.
Where to find Raven McAllan
Website
Blog
Personal Facebook Page
Author Facebook Page
Twitter
Amazon US Author Page
Amazon UK Author Page
Fabulous Friday Reads: The Contract
Let’s kick off this lovely weekend with Raven McAllan and her hot new Romance on the Go™ story The Contract, now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine erotic romance. Take it away, Raven!
Thank you so much for offering to host me while I show of my new Romance on the Go story, The Contract.
I really enjoy writing RotG and getting a full story into such a short length. I love reading them as well. They’re perfect for a soak in the bath with a glass of wine, and good music. Though if you’re reading the Contract it maybe ought to be a mojito and Bob Marley, or Typically Tropical singing ‘Oh I’m going to Barbados’. (Yes, okay you might need to be really old to remember that track.) Oh and sitting on the beach or by a pool in the sunshine.
What do you think?
Walking out of her job was the best thing Nikki Plummer ever did. What she didn’t expect however, was to be tracked down by some hot bod, claiming she owed him.
Ruari Cameron has come to collect what he has paid for, but one look at Nikki, and there’s only one thing he wants. Her in every facet of his life.
Of course convincing Nikki of this might take some doing…but he’s more than ready to rise to the occasion.
Will they find their happy ever after under the Barbados sun?
Story Excerpt
Hell’s bells, I hope he’s not going to choke to death. Nikki stood up and thumped Ruari on the back until his choking slowed and stopped. His eyes were streaming, his chinos covered with best Jamaican brew, and he looked a mess. Her heart missed a beat and then raced. A gorgeous mess.
Oh glory, no. I do not want a complication like him in my life. No, no and NO. Damned if her heart ignored her and red hot, ‘oh my I wonder what if’, heat filled her. She ignored it as best she could. After all, hadn’t he come to demand something of her and she had no idea what?
By the time Ruari’s chest—a rather magnificent chest she judged even though it was covered in blue striped linen—stopped heaving, Nikki had her libido almost under control. Almost. She still had to admit he was a sight for sore eyes. And for an underused…she broke that train of thought off abruptly. She was not going to think of her lack of a sex life.
“I think maybe I’d best feed you. Food for the tummy not the soul.” Nikki went into the kitchen, dampened a clean tea-towel and took it out to Ruari. “I’d say take them off and I’ll shove them in a washer, but you’ll need to wear a sheet or a towel if I do. I don’t have any men’s togs around.”
“A sheet will do, I’m burning my bits off here.” He dribbled the cool water from the tea-towel over his groin and sighed. “Better, much better.”
She hadn’t thought of that. “Then the bathroom is the third on the left. There’s plenty of towels and I’ll find a sheet.”
Ruari disappeared at a fast waddle. His uneven gait, she suspected, had something to do with his desire to keep hot coffee away from tender skin. Nikki followed more slowly. She wasn’t sure if her reawakened sex drive could cope with Ruari in a sheet.
As she rummaged through the airing cupboard something caught her eyes. Navy…shorts… She remembered with a heartfelt sigh, just what the cotton garment was.
Shorts. Men’s shorts that Rhonda used to sleep in, and had washed a few days earlier. Obviously they’d got mixed up with the sheets and pillowcases and been forgotten. But would they be big enough? She held them up, doubtfully. Ah well at least he had a choice.
Where to Buy
Evernight Publishing
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks
BookStrand
About Raven McAllan
A multi-published, best selling author of erotic romance, Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband, in a house much too big for them—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge. As once she is writing she is oblivious to everything else, her lovely long-suffering husband is learning to love the dust bunnies, work the Aga, and be on stand-by with a glass of wine.
Where to find Raven McAllan
Website
Blog
Personal Facebook Page
Author Facebook Page
Twitter
Amazon US Author Page
Amazon UK Author Page
Fabulous Friday Reads: Double Jackson
Let’s kick off this lovely September weekend with the amazing Raven McAllan and her saucy new erotic romance Double Jackson, now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine erotic romance. Here are a few words from Raven on the origins of the book:
When I sat down to write this blog, I realized how lucky I am, doing what I love, writing stories. The fact people seem to enjoy them is a bonus, and one I never stop giving thanks for. I couldn’t not write, I feel as if something is missing if I don’t connect with my characters every day, even just for a few minutes. As my long-suffering hubby says, have lap top will travel. (It’s amazing how much you can write on long haul)
Double Jackson, or Jackson for short is one of those stories that hit you, and demand to be told.
I’ve no idea where the idea came from, I just know I woke up one morning and started to write it. It was very definitely character driven, and one of the minor characters, Tina the housekeeper, nagged me all the time I wrote. It was as if she were in the room with me, looking over my shoulder…
Not only does she keep all the characters in the book in their place, she very definitely did it to me as well.
I think it worked.
Jackson Carrick at Tits and Bum Club—gay in more ways than one.
As morning wake up calls go, those damning headlines made for a rude awakening. The renowned actor is a one man guy, thank you very much, so why would a doppelganger set out to discredit him, and more importantly, who is it?
As the mystery unravels and loyalties are tested, Jackson has to rely on his husband, housekeeper, and friends to keep his reputation from swirling down the drain.
Fortunately, Jackson’s husband Collum knows just how to keep his man from worrying. Only one thing to do when you’re stuck inside waiting for news—lots of mind-blowing sex.
Story Excerpt
(Fizz is Tina’s twin, and Jack’s agent.)
Jack took hold of the phone as if it were a time bomb about to go off. Which, Coll decided it might well be. He stared at Jack, and willed his positive thoughts to be heard as Jack connected the call.
“Hi, Fizz. Hold on, I want to put this on speakerphone so I don’t have to repeat it to Coll.”
“Where are you? No don’t tell me if it’s too much information. Are you at home?” Her voice was loud and tinny in the room. “Do you have today’s paper handy? Is there a clock or three around? Are you decent?” The staccato questions came thick and fast. “Jack?”
Coll’s eyes widened and he shook his head at his lover’s silent question. He had no idea what the inquisition was all about.
“Kitchen? With iPad and phone?” Jack could be as brusque as the next person when it was warranted. “Naked.”
“That’ll do.” Fizz’s voice ebbed and flowed as the signal changed strength. “Well, not the naked bit. Clothed. Plus a paper or two and remember, decently dressed. Do it now and send it to me please. I’ll be with you as soon as I can. About ten minutes, I reckon.” The phone went dead.
Jack looked at Coll, who raised one eyebrow.
“Oh, shit.”
“Oh, fuck. Her ten is five. I don’t think she means in our birthday suits.” Jack pinched Coll’s left nipple and rolled of the bed to land on his feet.
“Bastard. I wish I was that agile.” Coll sat up, stretched and then stood up slowly.
“Ha. If you had to do the stuff I do in this series you’d be limber as well. Problem is at the end I’ll be arthritic and stiff as an excited cock everywhere, not just in my dick.” He jogged into the bathroom, and with a wry grin, Coll followed him.
Jack had the shower on full blast. As Coll watched he spun round under the water three times and got out.
“Over to you. I’ll go hunt up iPads and stuff.” Jack rubbed his hands over his hair and snagged a towel as he moved swiftly away.
“Cover up your jiggles then,” Coll called after him. “No cock rock on display.”
A whistle was his reply.
Coll wasn’t under the water much longer than it took to wash any traces of sex from his body, and soak his sweat-slicked hair. He flicked a towel across his body in the hope some water would be caught and absorbed and then pulled on a clean t-shirt before he ignored boxers, and thrust his damp legs into linen trousers and deck shoes. The material of the trousers chafed his skin and he wriggled uncomfortably. Maybe he should have donned underwear after all. The last thing he wanted was a rash on his cock from the nylon thread they used in his clothes.
It was too late. He heard the deep-throated rumble of a powerful motorbike and guessed Fizz had arrived.
Coll took the stairs two at a time. He arrived in the hall as the knocker crashed onto the wood with such force he wouldn’t have been surprised to see it emerge through the panel and an attached hand still thumping away.
He pulled the door open and Fizz almost fell into the foyer.
“Have you taken that picture yet?” she demanded in a breathless voice as she took off her helmet and put it on top of an old-fashioned hat stand.
“Good afternoon, Fizz. Not yet, sorry. How are you, Coll? I’m fine, thank you, Fizz, how are you?” Coll said sarcastically. “Would you like to take a breath before or after you hit me over the head for my tardiness?” The look he received would wither the hardest cock.
“Funny, ha, ha. I need that photo like an hour ago.”
“Difficult.” Jack had entered the hall unnoticed. “We didn’t know you wanted it, and it would have been a TMI photo.”
Fizz made a noise like a particularly upset wildcat. Jack sniggered. “Knickers in a twist, Fizz?”
“No, but your nuts will be in a nutcracker before you can say walnut or pecan if we don’t get stuff sorted out pretty damned quick. Let me take a damned photo.” She snapped the words irritably. “Where?”
“Kitchen. I was setting it up.”
“I don’t want a set up,” Fizz followed Jack into the kitchen, and Coll followed the two if them.
If he was a ladies’ man, then Fizz’s ass would be everything you could ask for. Not for the first time he wondered why she was single with no guy—or woman in sight.
Coll made a beeline for the coffee pot. “Coffee?”
“After.” Fizz didn’t look up from her phone. “Okay, it’s still okay. Get sorted. No, not like that. Who lines up three clocks and props a newspaper up for a selfie for no reason? I want natural.”
“If we’d known an hour ago you could have had au naturel.”
Where to Buy
Evernight
Amazon
Amazon UK
All Romance eBooks
Bookstrand
About Raven McAllan
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge.
Her very understanding, and long-suffering DH, is used to his questions unanswered, the dust bunnies greeting him as he walks through the door, and rescuing burned offerings from the Aga. (And passing her a glass of wine as she types furiously.)
Nicola Cameron Writes 