• Home
  • Archive by category 'Guest Bloggers'
  • Page 20

Archive for ‘Guest Bloggers’

Guest Kellie Kamryn @KellieKamryn #Giveaway #MFRWAuthor #Menage

Today we welcome fellow Extasy author Kellie Kamryn, with two new releases and a Giveaway!

GIVEAWAY

To enter for a free backlist book plus a special treat from Kellie, just leave a comment on the post. She’ll select a random winner January 1.

Vows, Sex, and Other Ways to Celebrate Love

When I began writing The Harders, the first two books featured monogamous erotic romance. By the time I got to the third book, my characters had a different story to tell, and so I listened. Books 3 & 4 each feature two siblings who end up in polyamorous romances. For me, it wasn’t about writing the erotic content that titillated the senses that comes with the fantasy of having two or more sexual partners. Each of the people had their personal story to tell and I wanted to be true to it. One sister is bisexual, and I wanted her to find her love matches that would make her the happiest. The brother in the series was in love with a woman who had a male best friend that she loved. Unwilling to tell her she couldn’t continue a relationship of any sort with her best friend, they communicated to find out what the other wanted to see if they could also have a relationship.

As poly and ménage romance is becoming more mainstream, I wanted to write stories from my heart that people could relate to, not only for the erotic content, but to give voice to struggles and romantic relationships that are common. I believe there’s a ‘happy ever after’ for everybody.
Book 5 – Vows, Sex, and Other Ways to Celebrate Love – is a recap of all the couples in the series. We finally meet the parents of the family who are celebrating their long-term relationship in the way that suits them best. Although it throws a wrench into the party plans orchestrated by their children, love wins the day in the end. Here’s the blurb and an excerpt:

Blurb:

Love, laughter, and sex – the best ways to celebrate life.

The Harders don’t need monkeys, vegetables, chocolate, or sex toys to bend a few kinks into their well-laid party plans.  When the couple of the hour is a no-show, the siblings worry that their good intentions will have been for naught. Count on good old mom and dad to add a few surprises of their own, mixing a cocktail of love and laughter that no one will soon forget. Get ready to celebrate love, Harder style.

Excerpt:

Marnie wiggled her ass. Drake took hold of her hips, and guided his cock to her cunt. He slid home in a slow movement. She loved being filled by his thick cock, and she loved that Madison didn’t mind sharing Drake. They’d been in a relationship prior to Marnie’s coming along, and for a short time, Marnie had worried that Madison would get jealous. Her fears had been for naught. Since the moment they’d all gotten together, they’d been able to make it work.

Marnie licked Madison in time with Drake’s thrusts. As Drake thrust into her faster, she licked Madison’s clit at the same speed. With her left hand, she spread open Madison’s pussy, and inserted the middle finger of the other hand inside. She allowed Drake’s thrusts to push her into Madison’s clit and cunt.

Madison clenched the comforter in her hands, head thrashing side to side, her shouts becoming louder. “Oh, oh, oh!”

Cream gushed out and coated Marnie’s hand and tongue. She lapped it up, and Drake fucked her harder.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” he announced with each thrust.

Marnie whipped her head up as she and Drake came together. Legs shaking, she collapsed onto her knees, face buried in Madison’s pussy once more. Madison pushed her head away as a second orgasm erupted. “Stop, stop…”

Marnie lifted her head, juice dripping from her chin, cum dripping from her cunt. Madison propped herself up on her elbows, chest heaving. “Amazing as always.”

“Agreed.” Marnie grinned at her, swiping the back of her hand over her chin. She glanced at the bedside table clock. “We’d better get going.”

“Yeppers.” Drake slapped Marnie on the ass, and she let out a yelp. “I’ve got dibs on the shower.”

“Oh come on,” Madison retorted. “You always call dibs on the shower.”

“But I always share,” Drake said.

Marnie laughed. “If we share, we’ll never make it to the party on time.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “Now get.”

Drake stuck his tongue out at her, and high-tailed it out of the room.

Marnie sighed and pushed up to a stand. “You want to go next?”

Madison patted the bed beside her. “Sit for a second. I want cuddles.”

Marnie plopped down beside her, and ran her fingers through Madison’s hair. Love for her filled her heart once more. “I want to ask you something.”

Madison twirled a strand of Marnie’s chestnut hair around her finger. “What’s that?”

Marnie smiled. “Having you and Drake in my life, helping all of us with the party prep, got me to thinking.”

“Oh yeah?” Madison asked. “About what?”

“Like maybe we could have a ceremony some time. Or a party. Some kind of thing to celebrate all of us being together.” Her heart tripped in her chest at the admission. “I love you both so much and I want everyone to know it.”

Madison cupped her face in her hands. “I love you—we both do. I think it’s a wonderful idea. In fact…” Her voice trailed off.

Curious, Marnie held Madison’s face in her hands. “What?”

“I’ll tell you later, okay? We better get ready.” Madison pressed a soft kiss to Marnie’s lips.

Marnie grinned from ear to ear. “Fine. We’ll talk later.”

Buy Links:

Amazon

Kobo

Barnes and Noble

Bookstrand

eXtasy

FREE BOOK

Book 1 in The Harder Series is availabler FREE at Extasy Books!

http://www.extasybooks.com/monkeys-sex-and-other-birthday-surprises/

THE SUB CLAUSE

On December 25th, my writing partner, P.D. Cathal, and I have a Christmas release with eXtasy Books – The Sub Clause. Find out how Santa Clause and his Head Sub Elf celebrate finishing up the busiest night of the year by being naughty!

Blurb:

When you’re a ho-ho-ho for Jolly Old Saint Nick, not reading the fine print of your contract is a no-no-no.

The Naughty Toy Workshop is the kinky toy factory for people who hit Santa’s naughty list, and Kandy Kane loves her job as supervisor. The coveted position includes person-ally testing sex toys, observing those under her command as they research and test new items for this season’s fetish crowd, and the best perk—being The Big Guy’s submissive for the year.

Jolly Old St. Nick has never had a better sub than Kandy to supervise his naughty workshop or fulfill his most kinky desires. With glee, he can’t wait for the night of her performance review, where he has some special plans to reward his sub once the busiest night of the year is complete.

As the big night draws near, Kandy looks forward to her performance review with a mix of exhilaration and sadness. According to the sub clause in her contract, she has to choose her successor from one of the sub-elves in training in the workshop. Little does she know she’s misread the clause, and Santa is about to school her on the finer points of her contract.

Excerpt:

A wistful sigh escaped Kandy’s lips. Both subs would make excellent replacements for her. A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed it back, refusing to shed tears over a fact she’d known since she’d taken the job. A sub clause in her contract with Santa stated that at the end of the year, she had to choose her successor. That knowledge had been the one thing that popped a hole in her balloon of elation over being chosen for the job last year when Santa’s last Alpha Sub retired.

She pushed the intercom button. “All right, Sweet—page me if you need anything. I’ll be going to—”

An emergency alarm sounded. All three women stared at each other in bewilderment.

“What the hell?” Kandy mumbled.

An automated voice filled the room. “Emergency in Fungeon Eleven. Emergency in Fungeon Eleven.”

“Oh great,” Kandy muttered. “Sweet—help Donna. I need to see what this is all about and take care of it before Saint Nick finds out. He’s got enough to worry about.” At the thought of her boss, Kandy’s heart rate sped up. She tried her best every day to serve him as his sub and workshop supervisor. Anything she could handle for him to make his job easier, she did.

Kandy suppressed a smile at the thought of Santa. While she’d enjoy seeing him again and being used by him—one of the best perks of her job—it was the busy season, and she wanted everything to run ship-shape. She gritted her teeth together to keep from grinning. They didn’t call him The Big Guy because his belly shook like a bowl full of jelly. Her cunt ached at the thought of his big, fat cock.

“Are you okay?” Sweet asked.

Kandy cleared her throat. “Yes, I’ve got to run.”

“Go,” Sweet said. “I’ve got it from here, Ma’am.”

“Thanks.” Kandy rushed from the room and sprinted down the hall to Fungeon Eleven, the testing room for new Sybians. She burst into the observation room and stared at the sight through the glass. A runaway Sybian that resembled a child’s rocking horse was vibrating around the room like an out-of-control mechanical bull, its test rider hanging on for dear life. Two other elves were chasing it around the room in an attempt to tame it. With its erratic action, neither elf could reach the power cord to unplug it.

Good thing she’s tied to it so she can’t fall off! Kandy’s brain went into overdrive. She whirled around and spied the emergency breaker panel at the back of the room. It would shut off power to this section of the workshop only. She bolted toward it and ripped off the front cover, then flipped the switch. The room descended into darkness, the alarm shut off, and the vibrating noise from the other room ceased.

Kandy breathed a sigh of relief, then glanced around when the emergency lights flickered on. The green glow of the lights cast eerie shadows all around. Kandy hurried into the testing room and helped the elves untie the sub from the horse. Then she unplugged the machine from the wall so they could restore power without the Sybian starting up again.

By the time she’d finished, the two elves—Lexie Latex and Sadie Sadist—had the other sub, Vivian Vibrato, untied from the machine and wrapped in a blanket. They held her close, murmuring words of comfort.

Kandy walked over to the trio and rubbed Vivian’s back. “Are you okay?”

Vivian nodded. “Yeah, just a little shaken up.”

All four women stared at each other, then burst into laughter.

Kandy patted her back and gave her a kiss on the top of the head. “I told Santa this idea needed more work. I’m glad you’re all right.” She straightened up and gestured to the control room. “Let’s get out of the testing area and back into the other room where we can look at the findings and see what went wrong.”

All three subs nodded in unison. Lexie and Sadie helped Vivian to her feet, then they followed Kandy into the control room. Kandy startled when the lights came on.

A deep voice spoke from the back of the room. “Ho, ho, ho… Who’s been a naughty elf?”

All four women stared at each other, then burst into laughter.

Kandy patted her back and gave her a kiss on the top of the head. “I told Santa this idea needed more work. I’m glad you’re all right.” She straightened up and gestured to the control room. “Let’s get out of the testing area and back into the other room where we can look at the findings and see what went wrong.”

All three subs nodded in unison. Lexie and Sadie helped Vivian to her feet, then they followed Kandy into the control room. Kandy startled when the lights came on.

A deep voice spoke from the back of the room. “Ho, ho, ho… Who’s been a naughty elf?”

BUY LINK

The Sub Clause will be available at the Extasy Books Stocking Stuffer link on Christmas Day, December 25:

http://www.extasybooks.com/special-collections/2017-holiday-countdown/

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Winner of the RONE (Reward of Novel Excellence) Award for Best Erotica 2012, Kellie Kamryn has many 5-star reviews from sites such as Night Owl Reviews for her work in contemporary romantic fiction. In 2013, one of her novellas was nominated for Best Novella for the RONE Awards. In addition, she is a workshop presenter and an online columnist for The Aquarian Online.

All of Kellie’s books contain a lot of heat balanced with an abundance of heart. With fourteen books and two anthologies to her credit since 2011, most days she can be found channeling her heart’s desire into writing stories and poetry that sweep readers away into other worlds.

When her muse requires a change in scenery, she funnels her creative energy into bringing many a tale to life through her work as an audio narrator. And when her body demands attention, you can find her in the gym jumping on the trampoline in between teaching Kindergym classes, or training and co-teaching Baguazhang (Bagua) as self-defense to women/families, and for health and healing to individuals on the Autism spectrum.

Visit with her at: www.kelliekamryn.com

GIVEAWAY

Don’t forget to leave a comment to enter for Kellie’s giveaway of one free backlist book and a special treat!

 

Out Now—Another Dance by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #lesfic #lesbian #romance

Blurb:

Can another dance help them forget the pain of the past?

Eden and Janine were best friends throughout their childhood and early teenage years. Then something happened that shattered their friendship, leaving Eden devastated and confused. Ever since her efforts to sort things out with Janine failed miserably, Eden has avoided her ex-best friend. Unfortunately, she can’t avoid her forever, since Eden’s sister is marrying Janine’s brother.

Thrown together in the same room for the first time in years, can the two women finally put their issues behind them and move on? Or is their shattered friendship beyond repair?

Please note: This story has been previously published in an anthology.

Buy Links:

Amazon (universal link): http://mybook.to/anotherdance

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/another-dance-lucy-felthouse/1127557749?ean=2940154636213

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/another-dance/id1318932407?mt=11

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/another-dance-1

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/762447?ref=cw1985

 

Excerpt:

Eden had been dreading this day since the moment her sister, Carol, had announced she was getting married. A wedding was supposed to be a happy occasion, a cause for celebration. But not when your sister was marrying the brother of your ex-best friend.

Eden had done a successful job of avoiding said ex-best friend for ten years, crying off any get-togethers, school reunions, and even her sister’s engagement and hen parties. Understandably, it had made her incredibly unpopular with Carol and their parents, but she’d had to put up with their displeasure for the sake of her own sanity.

Today, though, Janine or no Janine, Eden was going to her sister’s wedding. It was kind of crucial, really, given she was chief bridesmaid. She was just thankful that Janine hadn’t been asked to be a bridesmaid. That would have been problematic.

“I honestly don’t understand what happened between the two of you. What made you fall out so badly that you still want to avoid her?” Carol was asking, as the hairdresser put the finishing touches to her up-do, then settled her tiara on top of it, leaving the attached veil trailing down her back.

Well you wouldn’t, would you? Eden thought, trying hard not to let her emotions show on her face. You’ve never been confused about your sexuality and come on to your best friend, have you? But she kept quiet, determined not to ruin her sister’s special day.

“Can you even remember what happened?” Carol continued, thanking the hairdresser and standing up. She moved over to the full-length mirror in the room and examined herself from every angle. The hairdresser held up another mirror so the bride could see the back of her hair. She nodded.

“Yes,” Eden replied shortly, then added, “You look beautiful, sis. Really gorgeous.”

Inside her head, though, she was already reliving that fateful night.

Author Bio:

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), The Persecution of the Wolves and Hiding in Plain Sight. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 160 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. Subscribe to her newsletter and get a free eBook: http://www.subscribepage.com/lfnewsletter

 

Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services

 

Forsaking Hope by @BeverleyOakley On Tour #Giveaway #MFRWAuthor

Forsaking Hope
Fair Cyprians of London
By Beverley Oakley

Beverley is giving away a $10 Amazon Gift Certificate to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here

About the Book: 

Two years ago, she missed their secret assignation and disappeared without a trace. Now the divine “Miss Hope” is in Felix Durham’s bed – a ‘surprise cheering-up gift’ sourced by his friends from London’s most exclusive brothel. Felix is in heaven – and he wants to stay there.

So does Hope, but she can’t.

Hope Merriweather lives by a code of honour – even if she’s a prostitute.

Having sold her soul, she’s prepared to sacrifice everything else to protect what she believes in.

Even if honour – in her eyes – comes at the cost of thieving and breaking hearts. Including her own.

Available for preorder here:
~*~*~*~*~*~
Excerpt: 

Chapter One

Wilfred Hunt.
If there was a name to tip Hope into the abyss of despair she was hearing it spill from Madame Chambon’s lips now as the older woman directed Hope to take a seat in the reception room, presumably so Madame could loom oppressively over her.
With her hands on her ample, expensively padded hips, Hope’s benefactress—procuress, employer and gaoler were other monikers—sent Hope a beetling look that needed no interpreting: Regardless of Hope’s true feelings, Hope must project the required show of warmth and delight at being the chosen one.
Madame patted the side of her faux curls. Years of hot irons had reduced her hair to the texture of wool but her crowning glory these days was supplemented by the lustrous locks of those girls who dared cross her – before they were thrown back into the street from where most had come.
Nevertheless, Hope had to make her resistance clear. Surely Madame who knew her history would understand her loathing for this man, above all others. “I shan’t do it,” she whispered. There was little evidence of the willful child and wild adolescent who’d been the despair of her family. “I won’t—”
Outside, the noise of the traffic rumbling over the cobbles and the shrill calls of competing vendors settled upon the tense silence. Madame Chambon’s other girls, ranged around the sumptuously appointed room on red velvet upholstered banquettes, watched the exchange with prurient fascination. Hope knew it had been a calculated ploy of Madame’s to conduct her interview in public so that Hope would serve as an example to them.
No one crossed Madame Chambon.
The shrill cry of a fishmonger caused Madame to look pointedly out of the window. With something between a smile and a sneer, she smoothed a Marcel wave. “Is that where you plan to return, Hope? The gutter?” Her nose twitched and in the sunlight that filtered into the room, the grooves chiselled between mouth and chin were thrown into harsh relief, highlighted rather than hidden by the thick powder she used to conceal her age.
Madame Chambon’s comfort, now and into retirement, depended on obedient girls. Hope knew that as well as anyone. She’d had to bury her rebellious streak just to ensure food in her belly.
The Frenchwoman raised a chiselled brow and began to pace slowly in front of her girls. A painter with an eye for beauty would have been ecstatic at capturing such a spectacle on canvas. The discerning young man about town who visited 56 Albemarle Street was frequently rendered ecstatic by the range of delights Madame Chambon’s girls offered in addition to the visual.
“You forget yourself, Hope. I put a roof over your head and deck you out as handsomely as Mr Charles Worth ever did for his most discerning customer.” There was acid in Madame Chambon’s tone. “But for me, you’d be starving and glad of the pennies you could trade for a grubby stand-up encounter in a dark alley.” Madame Chambon thrust out her bosom and breathed through her nose, her response a calculated warning to the other girls arranged in various languid poses about the ornately decorated reception room that intransigence would not be tolerated.
“Mr Hunt has requested you.” She paused and when Hope remained silent, though her stance and expression left no one in any doubt as to her horror regarding this enforced assignation, went on. “Remember what I told you—what I tell all my girls when they first come here? The past must be forgotten the moment you step over my threshold. You are reborn, remodelled, refashioned into the most exquisite delectation of womanhood. A marquess, a prince, is well recompensed for the tidy sum he hands over in order to enjoy your sparkling wit, to converse with you in French, or if he chooses, on philosophy…to enjoy your charms…and,” she added significantly, “your gracious hospitality and tender ministrations to his needs. That is our agreement and you are no different. If Mr Hunt wishes you, Hope, to attend him at his residence then you will go.”
Faith, one of the kinder girls, patted Hope’s arm in silent solidarity. Hope didn’t expect any of them to speak up in her defence. Not when they all relied on Madame Chambon as much as she did to provide them with the necessities of life. Anything more than that was part of a strict contract that indentured a girl for life unless she was able to secure a generous benefactor to settle Madame’s severance bill. The fine clothes were part of the charade, necessary to entice a more elite clientele. Hope’s exquisite wardrobe did not belong to her though she’d have forsaken all the dupion silk and Spitalfields lace for the freedom of the gutter and to be mistress of her own destiny – and her body – if she could only be sure of a plate of gravy and potatoes every second day.
Closing her eyes, she hung her head, the carefully coiffed curls that fell forwards brushing against her tear-streaked cheeks. It was as well that they not be in evidence. Tears, weakness, vulnerability were like a red rag to a bull where Madame Chambon was concerned.
“How long…do I have to prepare myself?” She was not so stupid she couldn’t admit defeat when there was no alternative. Obduracy was beaten out of one, but tears ensured a girl got the very worst next assignment. Their clients weren’t all marquesses and princes, though they did require a very fat pocket book.
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” Hope repeated it in a leaden tone, and stared at her hands, clasped in her lap; white-knuckled. As white as the rabbit-fur that edged her fashionable black-and-white striped satin cuirass. Hope had the tall, slim figure suited to the scandalously tight tie-back skirts that were all the rage, the back flowing into a train adorned with elaborate swags and trimmed with bows. She’d turned heads the length of Oxford Street as she’d promenaded along the pavement following a walk through Hyde Park earlier that afternoon. In fact, for the first time in two years, she’d almost felt happy as she’d pretended a sense of freedom in the afternoon sun, blocking her mind to the prison to which she was returning.
She drew in her breath and forced herself to be brave, knowing the punishment she’d invite for daring to speak her mind. “Please tell Mr Hunt I will see him again under sufferance.”
Madame Chambon’s voice was surprisingly caramel. “Well then, now that you have made your objection clear, Hope, you will be pleased to hear that Mr Hunt’s desires are not only motivated by fond memories of your no-doubt mutually satisfying congress. I believe he wishes to acquaint you with news of your family.”
Hope hid her shock. “I have no family.” With care, she modified her tone so it was as leaden as before though emotion roiled close to the surface.
“Not even a sister?”
Hope raised her chin. Here was the chink and Madame knew it. The woman did her research.
Aware that the other girls who surrounded her were tense with anticipation, Hope struggled not to respond. Camaraderie existed at surface level but one never knew when it might profit one to have the dirt on a fellow prostitute. It was, clearly, another reason Madame Chambon had chosen to make this conversation public.
“Mr Hunt will see you at nine tomorrow evening,” said the so-called Frenchwoman who, it was whispered, was from the gutters of Lambeth, not Paris. “At his apartments in Duke Street. Now go and prepare yourself for Lord Farrow. Married to a monolith like the venerable Lady Farrow, he likes his girls vivacious and free-spirited. There’ll be less coin in your pocket if you sully the transaction with that long face, Hope.”

~*~*~*~*~*~
Author Info: 

Beverley Oakley was seventeen when she bundled up her first her 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. Unfortunately drowning her heroine on the last page was apparently not in line with the expectations of romance readers so Beverley became a journalist.
Twenty-six years later Beverley was delighted to receive her first publishing contract from Robert Hale (UK) for a romance in which she ensured her heroine was saved from drowning in the icy North Sea.
Since 2009 Beverley has written more than thirteen historical romances, mostly set in England during the early nineteenth century. Mystery, intrigue and adventure spill from their pages and if she can pull off a thrilling race to save someone’s honour – or a worthy damsel from the noose – it’s time to celebrate with a good single malt Scotch.
Beverley lives with her husband, two daughters and a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy the size of a pony opposite a picturesque nineteenth century lunatic asylum. She also writes Africa-set adventure-filled romances tarring handsome bush pilot heroes, and historical romances with less steam and more sexual tension, as Beverley Eikli.

You can get in contact with Beverley at:

 

 
© 2018 Adriana Kraft. All Rights Reserved.
%d bloggers like this: