Friday, February 27, 2009

Sex is a four letter word

Or so you'd think considering how some people react to it.

I've always been amazed at people who will condemn a movie (or book or play or whatever) that has a sex scene and/or nudity.

Yet, some of these same people say nary a word when a movie (or book or play or whatever) has umpteen people getting bashed, killed, mutilated, blown up, shot, etc.

The way I see it, at least sex and the human body can be beautiful. I don't think that violence ever is. (My books do sometimes include violent acts but I like to think I don't overdo them and they are appropriate to the story.) I'm not saying nothing should ever have violence in it, just that I don't get how some people can condemn sex/nudity but rarely violence.

I don't consider sex a four letter word. Instead, I think it's a beautiful expression of romance and love. Devotion. And it's why I write erotic romance.

Mechele Armstrong aka Lany of Melany Logen

Thursday, February 26, 2009

The Wet T-shirt Look Started When?

For years bars, Spring Breakers, promotional events and others have engaged in wet t-shirt contests to determine the best looking entrant. There are even some stars that have entered the fray. Jennifer Aniston did a desktop calendar for 2009 and one of the images is of her in a wet t-shirt. Personally, I don’t find the wet look all the enticing, male [do guys have these contests?] or female, but many do. So, where did this event get its start?

To answer that, I think we need to look back in the art history books for the answer.

In the Stone Age, there was the Venus of Willendorf [24,000 to 22,000 BCE]

and while she has fabulous hair, she has no clothes to speak of, so the wet t-shirt trend used to excite the libido didn’t start here.

In the Cycladic Period, there was the Standing Woman [2600-2400 BCE]

and while she still has no features or clothes, she does have one breast higher than the other. Being unique in appearance is often a lure in its own right, but there is no seduction through wet clothes happening during this period.

In Archaic Greece, there was the Kore of Samos [570-560 BCE]

woohoo, clothes. They are lovely, but they completely swamp her female silhouette, so not here either.

In Classical Greece, there was Hestia, Dione and Aphrodite from the Parthenon’s East Pediment [438-432 BCE]

and they are really close! The goddesses are wearing clothes that show off their figures, is seductive on Aphrodite – her almost lying down pose helps – but matronly on Hestia, making this period almost but not quite there on the wet t-shirt look yet.

However, a couple hundred years later, in the Hellenistic Period, there was the Nike of Samothrace [220-190 BCE]

and this is the time period where sculptors learned to reveal the body of the woman beneath fabric that acts like wet silk.

See how the material clings to her curves, denoting every detail, even the indentation of her belly button and hardened nipples are visible. In other words, she may be dressed, but she might as well be nude.

The interesting thing about this evolution is that the women are shown with curves, some more than others. The Venus of Willendorf is rounder than her Cycladic sister, but there’s a line on the latter’s stomach to demarcate she does have a belly. The exception to the appearance of curves is the Kore of Samos who has none. Fine, the Archaic period weren’t that much into depicting real women, there statues were generally used as grave stones so they can be forgiven.

In reality, these statues were mainly used for worship or to denote a special event, to put base sexual goals on them would be wrong. However, I find it is interesting that we can trace a wet t-shirt look so far back on the chronological art history line.

Today, as I flip through a magazine and see someone posing in a wet t-shirt and a pout, and I immediately think of Nike of Samothrace.

Hephaestus Lays Down the Law is an erotic paranormal romance now available in eBook exclusively through All Romance eBooks [ARe].

The paperback, Love’s Immortal Pantheon Anthology, includes Hephaestus Lays Down the Law, is now available at Amazon, BN, Powell's, BAM or your local bookshop.


Tilly Greene
WARNING! Red hot romances ahead!

Tilly Greene's Monthly Scorcher Yahoo or Google

Tilly Greene's Hot Thoughts Blog

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Whispering Silk
(A Story in Bed)

“Where have you been? I was worried.”

“With a man.”

The single satin bed sheet was draped over her upturned hip. “It’s too hot to sleep. Get in, and tell me everything.” She was perfection personified, a Goddess wrapped in gold.

I slipped off my dress and fell naked into her arms. Despite the heat my nipples hardened. The fan brushed our hair, cooled our flesh.

“Was he good?” she whispered against my ear, stroking my breast.

“Yes. I know him from somewhere. We connected so fast. Maybe a past life.” A subtle familiarity swathed my aching soul.

“Fate has a way of reuniting the lost.”

“He’s married though.”

“Did he tell you?”

“He didn’t have to,” I said. “It’d been awhile for him. I could tell.”

“Then it was meant to be.”

This comforted me from an inrushing of guilt. Forbidden fruit, the sweetest, in a Garden of Temptation. “I kissed him first,” I told her. “He was surprised.”

“Show me,” she said.

I did, fluttering my tongue under her lip. Hers was softer. But no less perfect. “He was scared. He pushed me away.”

“And then?”

“Then he took my hand. He wanted me to touch him.” I paused, drinking in her sigh. My finger trailed to her parted thighs. “He touched me, too.” I mimicked his fever, best I could.

“Yes, that’s nice,” she said, like whispering silk. “Don’t stop.”

My lips were again on hers. “There was no going back,” I said, peering into her wanton gaze. “We needed each other, if only that once. His eyes were wild.” The memory caused me to tremble. “He went down on me, so fast.”

She shifted to her back, pulling away the sheet. I slid down, spreading her flesh with my thumbs, taking her clit in my mouth, sucking it as he had done, gently, appreciatively. She moaned as I had done- a sensual plea for more.

“Did you come?”

“No. I wanted to wait.” My pulse beat wildly to the rapture of the moment. This and one lost encounter that teased my memory, the one that had long turned to dust.

“Was he big?”

Her scent permeated my nose and tongue. “Very.” We had our toys. I already knew which one I’d find.

While I rummaged through the drawer she asked, “Did he talk dirty?”

“He asked me if I liked big cock.”

She laughed, like rumpled velvet. Her porcelain face glowed. A flush of expectancy had tinted her cheeks. I strapped the toy around my groin, and jerked the deathless hard-on, rhythmically, in my hand. “He said he was going to fuck me.” I clasped the base, shuffling between her legs, flipping the cool tip into her wet heat. “He didn’t play. He was too anxious.” I thrust it, a hard plunge.

“Oh, God,” she cried, arching slightly to swallow the girth.

My mind swam to sensation being inflicted, just as it had for me hours earlier. I clawed her breasts roughly, pinching both erect nipples. She smiled. I didn’t because he hadn’t. I curled my lip, the pain of ecstasy. “Lift up,” I said, patting her hips. When she did I interlocked my fingers behind my head, pummeling with short vicious strokes.

“He’s good,” she said through heavy breath.

The memory of him dimmed; her slim body stretched like a lithe cat, its purr raucous. Worthy of a Pharaoh’s eternal worship. She soothed my senses, dispelled the tender pain in my heart. I half listened to the untold wonder of Ancient acts.

The toy was slick. I watched it sink in, withdraw as we gyrated together. I inhaled the fragrance of sex. “Your pussy is so tight,” I said, echoing what was past. I folded forward, embraced her shoulders, mouth on her ear. Consumed with softness and the deafening silence of saturated lust, I whispered, “Come, baby. I need you to come.”

She hugged my neck, muscles tightening. Our breasts squashed together, rocking with fervor. “And did you?” she asked. “Did you?” Her thighs shivered before I could answer.

“I did.” I treasured the light ripple that flowed over her feline form.

“What did he do?” Her voice drifted.

“Sit up, and I’ll show you.”

She bunched her hair over one fair shoulder, parting her lips. She knew. I pushed the toy into her mouth. One hand massaged my buttock, the other fingered me. Ensuing bliss weakened me. I cupped her jaw, pulling back, curling against her body. The moment lingered in drenched silence.

“Did you swallow?” she asked with a shallow grin.


The fan cooled our moist flesh. I wrapped us in the sheet. No puff of air could come between us. I listened to her heart slow, holding her hand.

“Are you in love with him?”

“A little.” I had answered without considering the staid confusion of doubt. To protect my fragile emotions I added, “I loved him more a long time ago, in a place I cannot remember.” A distant place. Before the blue waters had drowned Atlantis. Before the sands had made the Sphinx an island. Before Caesar’s armies marched victorious.

“Not all bedtime stories have a happy ending.”

“True,” I said, falling towards a dream that might take me back, remind me of obscure beginnings, where even a Goddess might find inspiration. “But this one hasn’t ended. Not yet.”

And in the distance I heard silk whisper. “Then it was meant to be.”

"Ms. Ashe is a master of her craft"~ Romance Junkies

Love Not Forgotten is in print.

Monday, February 23, 2009

The Series Conundrum

Every author who pens related stories is likely faced with these questions: How, exactly, is a series defined? When do I end it and leave this world and these characters to their own fates? How many books are too many . . . or too few . . . or just enough?

Readers get frustrated when authors err on either side of the spectrum. If a series drags on for book after book after book, ad infinitum, characters get stale and conflicts become repetitive. Predictability replaces drama. On the other hand, if a series ends before readers feel all significant relationships have been fully developed and all issues resolved, they feel cheated -- and rightly so. Loose ends don't make for a satisfying conclusion.

I've lately been wrestling with this issue, because I currently have three sets of related tales. First, there's the Galdeshian fantasy cycle at Ellora's Cave. Composed of two novellas and a novel (Wing and Tongue, Cauldron of Keridwen, and Prince of Glacier Glas), this collection isn't, strictly speaking, a series. All the stories take place in the same world and share some characters, but there's no central plot thread or pair/group of protagonists. The titles are stand-alones, which means I could easily stop right now . . . but, I do have another in mind.

The second group is a series. Called Utopia-X and published by Loose Id, it's m/m futuristic urban fantasy with a central trio of repeat characters. The world expands with each book. Looking for Some Touch is Book 1. Seeking Something Wicked, coming out on March 3, is Book 2. A third novel, Exploring Savage Places, is completed. Instinct tells me I can't fully "tidy things up" without writing another book or two . . . but, how can I be sure?

Finally, I have another group of novels and novellas knit together by two characters rather than a world or mythos or storyline. Jackson Spey and Adin Swift have a relationship arc that thus far extends over three books -- Plagued (EC), Obsessed (Changeling), and now, InDescent (a big urban fantasy coming from Liquid Silver). At least one more story is necessary to bring this relationship to a satisfying conclusion . . . but, one more may not suffice, given such complex characters.

So, the Devil isn't in the details, it's in the "buts." Unless an author lays out and slavishly follows a blueprint for a series, s/he will likely start wondering at some point how far to go. It’s easy to become enamored of our characters, to want to shepherd them through one trial after another because we’re loath to give them up. Easy, as well, to get lost in worlds that keep growing like crystals, new facets continually emerging from the original structure. (As examples of what I mean, consider Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake series, which now stands at 17 books. Or Don Pendleton, creator of tough guy Mack Bolan and the action/adventure Executioner series. After Pendleton wrote 38 Executioner books – a hefty number by anyone’s standards -- he franchised the character in 1980. Another several hundred series-related books have since resulted from that deal.)

What determines the end point? When all major characters have their happily-ever-after? When all bad guys have been dispatched and all threats neutralized? When the series’ world has been sufficiently explored and teeters on the brink of getting boring? Or should sales figures coupled with reader feedback decide the issue?

I'd be interested to see what readers and other authors have to say about the series conundrum!

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Have any Secret Thoughts?

It’s not a new book, but I thought I’d talk about a book that just came out in print not so long ago. Secret Thoughts (print) Anthology. This book is a combination of two ebooks gathered together by my friend, Sasha White. Nice cover, huh?

But check out this sexy cover for Lustful, the second Secret Thoughts e-book. Pretty hot, no?

And then the very evocative cover for Erotique, which was the first anthology.
Very nice, huh?

When Sasha first mentioned that she was putting this collection together, I was pretty excited.

Well, at first I wasn’t sure if I’d have something that would fit. It didn’t take too long to write something up. It was an exciting topic. Sasha was pretty supportive and encouraging. I love to read her stuff. Nobody can write hot quite as hot as she can. Her first person style is the standard, in my opinion. In other words, I love her to death, and I admire her quite a lot professionally.

Beth Williamson, Laura Bacchi, Sasha White, S. Desires, and Nix Winter all contributed to Erotique, with S. Desires debuting. She has a unique writing style that I really liked. Each and every author in the collection can be found in my personal collection—not a bad one in the bunch. (if there were, I just wouldn’t mention it , but I wouldn’t say they were good if I didn’t like ‘em)

I wrote one het story and one male/male for each anthology. I’ve got to say, the styles for each story of mine in Erotique were a bit different. I’d say that Office Politics is more like other stories I’ve written in technique, though it’s one character’s point of view only. Dark, Dangerous, and Menacing was a real departure for me. I’d say it inspired Bar Back, which is a short story available at
Torquere Press.

Dark, Dangerous, and Menacing is told completely from the view of the reader—I wrote it originally during a chat, a paragraph at a time, and adapted it for this collection. It was fun during the chat and fun for this…well, I thought so. Both of those stories were some of my favorites. Of course, that’s true of every story I write, just about. LOL

The two stories I wrote for Lustful were slightly different, too. The Bridge was inspired by a friend of mine who lives in another state. He and I Instant Message sometimes kicking ideas around or just catching up. We also talk on the phone now and then. It was the IMing and his very sexy voice (he’s an actor) that gave me the idea. You’ll have to read the story—I don’t want to give the whole thing away, but Lustful was geared for secret fantasies.

After Class was my second story for Lustful, so it, too, was about the character’s secret fantasy. I’ve got to admit, voices do it for me. I have a British friend, another actor, oddly enough, whom I speak with on the phone from time to time. He is also a linguist and occasionally drops into lecture mode when trying to correct something about my speech patterns. (I now enunciate much better than I used to and I try to speak slower) So now you know that writers use every bit of their daily life when they write—or at least this one does.
Every single thing is a potential inspiration.

Well, enough about all that. Here are some excerpts from my stories from Secret Thoughts, both Erotique and Lustful:

From: Erotique – Secret Thoughts Anthology 1
Office Politics
J.J. Massa

“One moment, Miss Carson, and I’ll…” I faltered, cleared my throat. A slight tapping on my desk had caused me to swivel away from my computer monitor and look up. My new boss, Mr. Weaver, was standing there, arms crossed, golden eyebrow raised as he shook his head side to side. “I’ll check his schedule, ma’am, because I know he’s not in right now.” That was a fine line, of course. If he were truly in, he’d be at his own desk, not mine, right?

Mr. Weaver gave me a nod and a wink, approval. I’m almost ashamed to tell you how good that felt. My chest actually puffed out, no shit. I couldn’t help it, not even if I wanted to. I smiled back.

“He’s good, Jack!” The other man’s voice took me by surprise. It was Fred O’Neil, head of acquisitions. I hadn’t even noticed him. Jack Weaver had that effect on me. “Now, if only he had better legs, bigger tits,” the asshole chortled. “You know, while he sat on your lap and squirmed?” he snickered as the two men passed my desk and walked into Mr. Weaver’s inner sanctum.

I turned away, every bit of my face warm, right up to the tips of my ears. What an image, me on Jack Weaver’s lap. Oh, man! I had to adjust myself, shifting in my chair.

My fingertips were gripping my stiff cock, trying to find a comfortable position, when a heavy palm landed on my shoulder. Oh, god! It could only be… I tipped my head back just slightly.
Yep, it was Mr. Weaver. I groaned inside, humiliated.

“Mark, I can tell that O’Neil’s comments made you uncomfortable. Step into my office when he leaves, would you please?”

My hand dropped uselessly to my leg. I couldn’t speak and just nodded. The grip on my shoulder tightened a little and then fell away. I didn’t move, waiting until I heard the muted footfalls, the door open and close, then laughter from the inner office.

Caught like a fly on a pin. Shit, shit, shit! My head dropped forward to the LCD of my monitor. God, I was so busted, so humiliated. Guess he’s got me pegged now.

Dark, Dangerous, and Menacing
J.J. Massa

You don’t know why you came to the bar tonight. Maybe you were just tired of the TV. Not lonely, really, just tired of being alone. You give the bartender a half-smile when he slides your drink in front of you. He looks like a nice guy. That’s the problem. He looks like a nice guy.

Back in the shadows you see him. Yum, yum. Who’s that you wonder? He’s so dark—dark eyes, dark hair, dark looks. He’s looking at you. You squirm around, trying not to look back—but he knows you were checking him out. You know it—he knows it.

The skin at the back of your neck begins to tingle but you resist the urge. Someone laughs, a man. It’s a rich and deep whiskey chuckle and you know it’s him. You can’t help it, you turn on your barstool. He’s moved into the poolroom a little, under the dim lights.

As you watch, he strips off the old leather jacket he wore and you catch your breath. Is that T-shirt tight Boldor is it painted on? What a physique. You can see the light caressing his deltoids, he turns and that tight butt keeps you riveted. Isn’t there a law about carrying a deadly weapon in a place that serves alcohol?

From: Lustful – Secret Thoughts Anthology 2

After Class by J.J. Massa

A lot of people have teacher fantasies. Guys as much as women tend to fixate on a hot teacher. It just stands to reason that gay guys fantasize about sexy male teachers.

My fantasy? Professor Edward Heade. It’s a terrible name, isn’t it? I’m sure he was teased non-stop growing up. Maybe that’s what makes him the way he is. He’s got this I’m-in-charge thing going for him. He never raises his voice, but he doesn’t have to.

Oh, man, sitting here, watching him walk into the room, I’m just getting chills. I can’t help it, something about him makes you want him to put you in your place—to sort you out.

He’s British; those sayings make sense around him. I don’t actually have any classes with Professor Heade. He’s not my teacher. But here I am, sitting in his class, listening to that rich, full, accented voice.

He’s stalking around the room, his left hand above his head as he makes some point. I have no idea what he’s talking about and I don’t really care. All I care about is the fire in his eyes and the way his nostrils flare as he drives his point home.

I’m on fire, sparks running up and down my spine, sweat collecting in the small of my back, my stomach tightening with want, need. I need those strong, slim fingers on my body. He is so fucking hot. Damn, I’m sitting here getting hard while this professor goes on about whatever—and I have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. How pathetic is that?

He’s coming right toward me, a book in one hand and a note in the other. My heart is beating double-time and I don’t know what to do.

The Bridge
By J.J. Massa

Thom: Tell me
Joclyn: I hardly know you.
Thom: You’ve seen my picture, heard my voice. Told me secrets…

And she had. She’d seen his picture—auburn hair, almost red. Play-with-me blue eyes, twinkling with mystery, dare. The picture he’d sent showed him leaning back against the body of a happy woman, her arms wrapped around him, delight on her face. A sister? A lover?
Wife? He’d been married. Said he wasn’t now. And given the random hours they called one another, she believed him.

It didn’t matter, Joclyn did know what he looked like. She’d heard his voice. It was deep, southern, with just a hint of somewhere else…elocution lessons maybe. He was an actor, a performer of some kind. They’d emailed, instant messaged each other, talked on the phone…

Was she really considering this? It was her fantasy. She’d never get another, better chance. Something like this involved a little risk, or it wouldn’t really be living out her fantasy, would it?

Sex with a stranger in a crowded, very public place, and she knew where—even knew when.

Joclyn: Yes
Thom: You know the details then. I’ll be there.

And that had been that. Thom had signed off. So had she.

I hope you’ll check out the Secret Thoughts Anthology—I’ve enjoyed it from start to finish.

Oh, hey, did I mention that my website is getting re-vamped? Let me know what you think: After 5 years, it was about time.

I’m pretty excited about it. Mae Powers is doing it for me. She’s really creative. She and I have worked on writing projects together before—she’s sharp as can be and writes a very hot story. She writes stories in this series about a Texas town— Spellfire, Texas. The stories are paranormal, somewhat funny, and downright sexy. I get a kick out of them.
If you get a minute, stop over and see what’s going on with Cosmo, too. His web log lets him blow off steam.

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Together Again? by Tilly Greene is OUT!

Zeus, King of the gods, God of the Sky and Thunder, knows he has a pretty good existence, except for when it comes to Valentine's Day. For some unknown reason, this was the one day out of the 365 that his desires are ignored by all. With unfulfilled desire pushing him closer to being dangerously angry, he's ready to demand answers from the Moirae when a woman from his past comes to the throne room.

Suddenly, the day of hearts and love isn't looking so bad. Or is it? Leda is someone he wronged in the past and wouldn't blame her if she denied him again, but he cares for her, deeply.

He is ready to do whatever it takes to have her again, but will she forgive his past mistakes?


“Feeling lonely?”

The two words were whispered so quietly, he wasn’t sure he actually heard them or if it was a culmination of what he had been thinking pushed the idea into his head. Casting a quick look around the cavernous room revealed no one else was there, but neither did he consider himself lonesome. Usually whenever he was in this room, he was surrounded by a crowd of people, many who were looking for something from him. The one good thing about being alone was that it rarely happened and it allowed him to think about what he wanted to reflect further upon, not what others put in front of him.

Relaxing back against the back of his throne, he took another drink from his cup and closed his eyes to savor the peace and quiet.

Except for his dislike of this particular day, his life was actually pretty good. There was nothing he lacked, although there were mistakes he’d made in the past, a few he wished he could go back and do over again.

“No women for the God of the Universe on Valentine’s Day?”

“Who is there?” A mere mortal couldn’t survive the wrath of his voice, much less the glare in his eyes as he stood up and searched the corners of the room. Whoever was out there had invaded his private time and he wouldn’t allow that to go unpunished. “Show yourself immediately or I’ll—”

“You’ll what?”

From behind the last column at the far end of the room stepped a delicate figure in a bright blue short chiton. Because of the lighting and distance between them, he couldn’t see the woman well enough to identify her by name, but he was able to see enough for his cock to stiffen between his legs.

“Who are you?” Now that he knew it was a beautiful woman, Zeus asked for help in identifying his visitor. Already he was turning away from intimidation and looking toward seduction. Hopefully The Fates would be too busy working on another string to see how his was changing.

“You know who I am, lover.”

“Lover? We’ve been together before?”

“Yes, we have.” The woman stopped moving and bowed to him. Instead of the usual gold rope twining around and through her dark brown hair, there was something white and fluttered in the light breeze. The more he saw of her, the more intrigued he was to discover everything. “Don’t you remember me, Zeus?”

Copyright © 2009 Tilly Greene

"Together Again?", the second installment in the Mythological Messes Redux series, is now available exclusively at All Romance eBook [ARe].

Tilly Greene
WARNING! Red hot romances ahead!

Friday, February 20, 2009

Raunchy, Nerdy and a Little Philanthropical(y)

One of my favorite songs is "Bragadaccio" by MC Frontalot (nerdcore rap). No idea how I picked up that genre, but there it is.

Some pertinent lyrics:
I stand 77-feet tall
I got 8 balls
And alla ya'll are
Subject to my thrall.

The full song, a live video.

I know, I know. Trust me, it's a fun bit. And it's pertinent to my blog today!

Early this month, Freya's Bower released DREAMS & DESIRES 3, a collection of romantic and erotic tales of varying heat levels and varying sexual orientations. The book is available in e-book or paperback, direct from the publisher (preferred) and even from

DREAMS & DESIRES 3 is a charity anthology. Proceeds from your purchase are donated to a battered women's shelter in New Orleans, which is still struggling to recover from hurricane damage even years after Hurricane Katrina. I don't usually say "You should buy a copy of my book," but I'll say it about this one because it's not MY book; it belongs to every woman who has ever wanted something out of life.

Even if all she wanted was a man with the traditional number of testicles.

Excerpt from my contribution, "Wednesday at the Manporium," included in DREAMS & DESIRES 3

“Penis tricks!” she shrieked. “I’m getting magic penis tricks and pierced nipples.”

Nita covered her mouth with both hands. Horror widened her eyes and she added her own muffled “Oh no.”

“Keep your voice down!” Her mother whispered fiercely. “What are you talking about?”

“The list. It’s all wrong.” Hands shaking, she poked at the screen and scrolled through the remainder of the document. Her headache hammered along at the same tempo as her racing pulse, rocketing toward migraine-scale pain. Nausea dug in deep—an echo of the hangover she’d experienced the day after she and Nita stayed up ‘til crazy hours sucking down frivolously fruity mixed drinks and giggling over their most outlandish “dream man” fantasies. Phrases along the lines of “ten-inch tongue” and “hung like an elephant” had cropped up that night. Had they made it onto the mistake list?

Nita reached across the dainty table and grabbed the notebook. “Let me see.”

Relinquishing the device without protest, she dropped her head back against the nubby upholstery and stared at the “no returns” plaque mounted beneath a portrait of a smiling, beautiful couple. A success story in the making—unlike her disastrous creation. “I think I need to throw up.”

Beneath her breath, Nita muttered, “Damn.” Twice.

Old-fashioned wedding bells rang through the store. Even though she was seated, Abigail shook through a wave of dizziness. “I can’t believe this. Tell me he’s not going to have five…”

Unable to make herself finish the sentence, she bit down on her bottom lip and prayed her groom came with the traditional number of testicles.


Read the other stories in DREAMS & DESIRES 3 today!

And have a great, cozy post-Valentine's-Day weekend!
Emily Ryan-Davis

Thursday, February 19, 2009

You're Bound to Love it!

I'm happy to announce that my latest work in progress is no longer in progress...because it's done. The Dares That Bind is now in the capable hands of my editor at Phaze Books, and I'm hoping for an April release, which would be fitting since "Spring" plays an important role in the story. You'll see why when you read it.

For now, though, I'm happy to provide an exclusive sneak preview right here. I haven't posted this anywhere, so I hope you enjoy this raw preview of a story that was to have been part of the Phaze RAW HeatSheet line. As I wrote, however, the story just kept growing so it will stand apart. Of course, it is part of my Dareville series, and you might see some familiar characters. This is a BDSM novella, my first serious attempt at the sub-genre. Enjoy!


The Dares That Bind, by Leigh Ellwood
Coming this Spring from Phaze Books

“Vic, check it.”

Victoria Robeson set down her pen for probably the tenth time in the last hour. No, it had to be more than that, very likely, as she felt she had been generous in mentally lessening the frequency of Kerry’s interruptions. She leaned to her left through the open window of her booth—opposite the one from which she took tolls from outgoing cars on the Dareville stop of the turnpike—and scowled at the impish, wiry young man grinning back at her.

In the stale yellow light of his overhead lamp, she caught the reflection of a multitude of silver hoops lining each ear from shell to lobe, and the gleam of the thick stud centered just below his lower lip. She shuddered to think where else on his body one might find piercings. He could be a human key chain in addition to a pincushion.

“This better not be about hair,” she grumbled, “or make-up or stilettos or fishnets. Yes, you’d look good in it, and no, they won’t make you look fat. Whatever they are.”
Kerry swallowed, and Vic watched as the fashion magazine he curled in his hands sink just out of sight to the shelf below his register. “Never mind then.”

Vic grunted and turned back to her writing, only to realize the muse had dissolved in the late night mist. She leaned back in her stool, maintaining her balance, and sighed.

“I’m sorry.” Kerry’s voice came contritely. “I should know better when you’re trying to write. It just gets lonely out here when it’s not busy.”

“I know.” And it’s never busy. Vic had taken the graveyard shift as toll collector for exactly that reason. Her hometown of Dareville, Virginia couldn’t exactly be called a hipster night spot. The mid-sized community just inland of the beach and more metropolitan Norfolk had essentially adopted a “lights out at nine” policy, and anybody out on the turnpike that connected southeast Virginia to the Outer Banks this time at night either had to be coming home from a late trip, running away from home, or just plain lost. It wasn’t unusual for Vic to assist drivers surprised to learn they had somehow come upon a toll road while looking for the interstate.

“Forget it,” she added with a slight smile, hoping to ease Kerry’s hurt feelings. “It’s just been a bad week all around. I haven’t done much writing here or at home.” Though Kerry didn’t work every shift her, there was no need to explain the work obstacles. Kerry brightened and nodded in understanding.

“Bible Bertha bugging you again?” he teased.

“As much as your alliteration is improving, yes.” Vic laughed. Her name wasn’t Bertha, but the third worker who took the late shift often used the downtime to preach from her booth, making either Kerry or Vic her disgruntled, uninterested parishioner.

He suddenly sobered. “Things still bad at home, too?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t wish to elaborate. Her mother had become impossible to live with since her father embarked on his mid-life crisis with another woman. Older sister Kate no longer lived at home, therefore Vic bore the brunt of mother Marlene’s anxiety attacks.

Mercifully the approach of an outgoing car interrupted, and Vic took the toll and quickly changed the subject. “You know what, I’m listening. The writing can wait.” She rested her elbows on the bottom groove of the sliding window pane—her thick jacket sleeves provided a nice cushion. “What did you want to show me?”

She knew Kerry enjoyed the attention. The studs and rings provided plenty of shock value and amusement when cars did pull up to pass through town. A slight flush crossed the bridge of his nose and spread to his cheeks as he produced the magazine, opened to a full-color orgy of leather and chain mail.

“I was thinking of getting a pair of these.” He tapped a purple-polished nail on a lower inset picture of a woman, naked but for a pair of black thigh-high boots, reclining in a backdrop of flowing red satin. Strategically crossed arms and bent legs concealed her bare breasts and other naughty bits.

“Doesn’t look like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman to me,” Vic said.

“Oh, hell no. Look closer.”

He held the magazine forward, but Vic just took it from him. “Good God,” she said on seeing how the heel of each boot nearly touched its corresponding toe. What person in her right mind would wear such a thing?

“Ballet slippers for masochists?” she asked.

“Close. Fetish boots.”

“The fuck do you walk in those things?” Vic could feel her arches snapping just looking at the photos.

“Very, very carefully. But I really think they’re more for show.” Kerry grabbed for her booth and she surrendered the magazine. “There’s a new BDSM club opening at the beach. Supposed to be high class—memberships and rules, that kind of shit. Doug and I were thinking we could snag an invitation to their free open house on Friday.”

“I see.” The piercings and occasional dog-collar jewelry notwithstanding, Vic hadn’t pegged her co-worker for the kink scene. That an entire club planned to launch in a place she had always perceived as a sleepy little beach town also spoke volumes of her lacking observational skills.

And she aspired to write. How could she write if she couldn’t see?

“It’s the same night as the Brady Garriston concert, though,” Kerry said with a sigh, “and we have tickets.”

“How much is a regular membership to this club?” Vic sketched a fetish boot in her notebook.

“Five hundred a year. Can you believe that shit?” Kerry’s frustration rang out into the night. “They must use gold leaf in all their cat-o-nine tails or something.”

“Or an Italian marble torture rack,” Vic snickered.

“Hell, maybe they just bought Michelangelo’s David for the lobby and dressed it in assless leather pants.”

Vic shrugged. “So blow off the concert and go,” she said. “It’s a benefit show, so the charity gets the money anyway.” The tickets cost much less than five hundred dollars, she knew. She’d tried to get one for herself but the show sold out so quickly. Her sister Kate had managed to finagle two from a friend, and Vic insisted she take their mother as a means of cheering her. Perhaps if she played this right, she could buy Kerry’s.

“I know, but it’s Brady Garriston. I love him, he’s so hot.” Kerry swooned. “I can’t believe he’s, like, fifty. I would do so much stuff to him.”

“That right?” Vic’s focus fixed on a distance bright point down the turnpike, approaching from the south. Another visitor. “Busy night,” she murmured, not without a note of sarcasm. “You think people are traveling for this show? There weren’t many tickets to be had.”

“Dunno.” Kerry brightened. “Hey, wanna switch?”

Vic glanced down the road. The car seemed to be speeding, and she wasn’t sure if she could escape her booth in time, since it meant having to cross the narrow space meant for vehicles.

“Uh,” she began, but before any words could come Kerry had already slipped into her compact booth, giggling manically.

“Damn it, Kerry,” she grumbled, and burst free for the empty booth. God forbid the car should belong to someone from the state department of transportation with no sense of humor. “My drawer better cash out correctly this time,” she warned once she was safely inside, feeling tired of Kerry’s juvenile games.

“Big whoop, you’ve taken one toll all night. Who could fuck that up?” Kerry called from behind her, but the wild purr of a foreign engine drowned out his nasally voice.
Vic held her breath as the maraschino red Ferrari rolled neatly to a stop, the driver’s rolled-down window aligned with hers. Such a beautiful car, she observed, smooth and stylish even veiled with tiny beads of early morning mist. The overhead lights of the small toll plaza definitely did not do the car justice. In the daytime, or perhaps in the glow of pure, unobstructed moonlight, this car would look absolutely stunning.

And a driver to match, Vic thought, lightly gasping when a smiling face emerged from the darkened cab. As sleek as his ride, he wore shoulder length brown hair slicked back in a pony tail. Dark eyebrows settled over piercing green eyes that peered over small wire frames. A tiny soul-patch, just brushing his lower lip and tapering into a triangle, completed the look. His perfect grin struck her so much, as though she’d never before seen a man, that she hadn’t prepared for her body’s reaction when he spoke.

“You are a surprise.” Neither deep nor high-pitched, his voice had a mellow quality that melted easily over her nerves. Vic relaxed then tensed, sensing her nipples harden beneath her uniform blouse. The driver gunned the engine and the warm roar vibrated through her.

“I’m sorry?” Vic had to cross her legs to stop the throbbing in her pussy.

He waved a hand slightly. Vic caught the flash of a ruby set in gold around his pinky finger. “I wasn’t expecting to hit a toll road,” he said. “Don’t worry. I have the money, but I will need a receipt, if I could get one.”

“Huh? Oh, sure.” Vic hit a button on the register. The drawer yawned open with a stale pinging sound and a receipt slid from its small printer. “Yeah, the expressway opened up last year to take the pressure off the smaller state highways. Too many big rigs were passing through and tearing up the roads faster than they could be repaved.” She knew she babbled, but she decided it necessary lest her aroused nature overcome her brain and encourage her to stay something really forward, or stupid.

“Well, we can’t have that.” He sounded disinterested. Of course he did. What man in a Ferrari would give a damn about backwater Virginia roads and the poor saps like her who stood guard?

“Nice car,” she said. “Is this a Barchetta?”

He had her full attention now. Vic involuntarily stepped back at the surprised look on his face and wondered if she had committed some grave car etiquette error known only to Ferrari enthusiasts.

“Actually, yes,” he said. “It’s a 2001 550 Pininfarina Barchetta. You know your cars.” Yet, Vic couldn’t mistake his dry tone. He had pronounced it barketta, too, and Vic instinctively realized the proper Italian enunciation. Like with other Italian words, the H remained silent.

As I should have, too, she thought. So she pressed her lips together as he continued searching for toll money.

Whoever he was, Vic decided he must certainly be among the idle rich since he didn’t appear to be in any hurry. She watched him rifle through his wallet and make a note somewhere with a pen. Perhaps he didn’t have a small enough bill for the toll?

“Do you know where the Dareville Inn is located?” he asked finally.

“Sure. First exit off this expressway. Stay to your right and follow the signs to the historic district. It’s just on Main Street right after the Dare House Museum.”

“Thanks. My GPS can’t seem to find it.”

Vic chuckled nervously. “Yeah, we’re kind of a ‘blink and miss it’ town. Not surprised you can’t see it from space.” The response came spontaneously, yet relief washed over when he laughed at the poor excuse for a joke.

He handed her two folded dollars bills just as she exchanged with the receipt. In the split second their fingers brushed Vic squeezed her thighs shut to temper the ache in her pussy. His gaze held her for a few seconds, yet long enough to make her forget she had to work.

“Have a good morning,” he said and, smiling, urged the car back to speed once she set the green light.

“You, too,” she whispered, coming out of the trance only when something hard slapped her back. She cried her high-pitched surprise.

“Was he a movie star or something?” Kerry demanded, awestruck. He stood just outside the booth, bouncing with excited energy. “Did you see those wheels?”

How could she, for the gorgeous man who steered them, and apparently her as well. One more minute trapped between the Ferrari’s vibrations and his smoldering looks and she might have come on the spot.

Instead of answering, she moved to put away the toll money when she noticed a slip of white among the bills. She folded the cash to reveal a business card emblazoned with a cute logo checkerboard letters, B&W.

Alton Weiss, President
Black and Weiss Entertainment Group, Inc.

On the reverse side, there was a phone number written in black ink, along with a terse note:

Call the second you get home. We’ll discuss how to improve your pronunciation skills, among other things.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Kerry asked. He tried the door to the booth. “Did you lock this?”

Vic’s heart pounded, like she’d been called to the principal’s office to be punished. What sort of “discussion” did this handsome stranger have in mind? Did she really want to know.

You know you do.

She turned to Kerry and pointed north. “Get back in the other booth. There’s a car coming.” It’s the not only thing, either.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Sex Symphony - Available Now

I absolutely love love love The Lord of the Rings. I've watched the three movies countless times, and no, it's not just Legolas or Aragorn who are drawing me to watch. *grin* I guess my attraction to it is a combination of many factors, but mainly, it's the fantasy and the magic that drew me again and again to Middle Earth. The concept of the one ring that bound them all, in one way or another, caught my mind. Hence was born the one violin that ruled the characters all in lust.

Sex Symphony
By Madison Blake
All Rights Reserved
Get it here.


Book 1 of Musical Aphrodisiac

A magic violin that rules them all in lust…

Chelsea is enthralled by the magnetic violinist Kyle Montgomery, and at the first pure notes that trilled into the night, she is bombarded by a lust so powerful she lost her breath. She loses control of her body, and she hungers constantly for the hardness of a man's arms around her. To confound her further, she finds herself attracted to the equally compelling brilliant composer Grant Thornton...who dislikes her.

Bound by the magic that flows from the violin, the three are inexorably drawn to one another to assuage their deepest needs. But when the notes fade away, who will be left to play the symphony?

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes with same-gender sex.


“But…but…” Grant sputtered, seemingly unable to find the words he wanted. “I thought we agreed last night’s performance would be the last time.”

Kyle’s warm, gray orbs rested on her face, caressing and it seemed they were the only two people in the world. “I spoke too soon. I think we might yet find what we’re looking for.”

“Here?” As though from a far distance, she heard Grant’s voice filled with dismay, then he muttered, “Fine but we’re going upstairs immediately after you come down off the stage.”

Chelsea caught her breath as Kyle reached out a hand and gently brushed his thumb over her cheek. “You know what to do, Grant.”

A moment’s silence full of rich meaning she couldn’t comprehend, then Grant’s voice, thick with disbelief. “You think it’s her?”

Kyle hesitated. “Maybe. Watch over her.” Then he whirled around and strode up onto the stage.

Chelsea collapsed back against her seat, drained. What was that all about? The conversation between the men confused her but more bewildering was the effect Kyle had on her. Every time she looked at him, especially when he was looking back or like right now, when he touched her, the focus of her world appeared to narrow to just him and her. There was only one time when her whole being had been consumed totally by one man and when he had left this world five years ago, she’d never thought she’d feel anything remotely like it ever again.

But it seemed she had.

What did that mean?

She shivered and the shiver intensified when her ears caught the first, pure note that trilled from the direction of the stage. She glanced up and she was caught much the same way as she had been a week ago at the concert.Kyle looked magnificently…male, even cradling the violin as he did. Sinfully seductive. Blatantly sensual. He looked straight at her as he played and across the short distance, she imagined his gaze blazing with lust and need. The same desires that were running through her veins at this moment, making her wet and throbbing. Her nipples hardened and pushed against the soft cloth of her dress, the tight buds sensitive and aching horribly. The ache intensified with each note that poured from Kyle’s skillful hands and lust and yearning crashed within her in violent waves. She shook from the maelstrom raging within, her pussy pulsing with urgency and she had the insane urge to rush the stage, tear his clothes from him, impale herself upon him and ride him until this crazy longing was satisfied. She had the nasty feeling that in another few moments she wouldn’t be able to control her actions.

What was happening to her? Through the lust-soaked haze enveloping her, she realized that whatever she was experiencing now felt vaguely familiar…

Someone touched her arm and she cried out, her skin so sensitized lust rippled through her at the contact. Grant was staring at her, his eyes wild, his nostrils flaring and a deep flush staining his cheeks. “You feel it too?”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstood what he was asking. “Yes.”

“My God,” he breathed, his blue eyes glittering. “It’s really you.”

“Wha—” She cried out as another swell of desire rose up in her.

“Listen to me. Make some excuse—ladies’ room or whatever—and wait for me outside the door—”

“No—” Even with the lust interfering with her senses, she still remembered he disliked her without reason and because of that, she didn’t like him either. She certainly wasn’t going anywhere with him—

“It’s for your own good,” he rasped urgently as he leaned close to her. “For all our sakes.”

“Doesn’t everybody—”

“No— Yes, some—” He broke off. “I’ll explain later. Now go.”

“I don’t—” She stopped in mid-sentence as lust hit her hard, causing her to jerk slightly in her seat. At the back of her mind, she noted that it coincided with the crescendo in Kyle’s music.

“Look,” Grant said in a rough whisper. “This thing that’s pulsing in you? There’s only one way to make it go away and you won’t get it by masturbating the whole night long or having sex with countless men. It’ll come back to haunt you again and again, each time more intense, until you won’t care where you are, who you’re doing it with, how you’re doing it, as long as you can scratch the itch.”

~* ~ * ~ *~

Want to read more? Get it here

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Sunday, February 15, 2009

Surrender Love

Surrender Love

His friends think it's rebound, his ex swears it's jealousy, but his heart knows, this time, with this lover, it's surrender.


It's the day after Valentine's and I thought an excerpt from my new release, Surrender Love would be appropriate here. Luc is planning to give Izzorah ("Rah") a gift, and Rah discovers the fact.

At the breakfast table near the kitchen, Izzorah waited with hands folded in his lap for Luc to join him. He perked up his ears at the sound of his lover’s footsteps.

Luc bent down to kiss him. “Good morning, love.” He joined him at the table. “Are you sore?”

Drooping both ears down and back, Izzorah lowered his gaze and gave one negative shake of his head. I spent the night stark naked around this man, yet here I am blushing over a question? Izzy, get a grip. He aligned the flatware at his place. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved.” Luc snapped open his napkin. “I think we both worked up an appetite.”

Izzorah’s cheeks blazed. He bit his lips, chuckling. “I know I did.” He smiled up at Luc through his lashes.

They’d slept until they felt like rising, and woken to make love one more time. A leisurely shower where they’d scrubbed and shampooed each other had led to another quick session in the water. Izzorah was barefoot, but had pulled on his favorite Iron Soul T-shirt and a pair of loose jeans. Luc wore slippers, dark lounge pants, and a white T-shirt covered by his robe.

Does this man ever go barefoot or dress sloppy? Izzorah grinned. Prolly not, with a former supermodel living in his house. Or had Luc always been this well groomed? Hmm. Guess we’ll see.

Luc’s scent changed so subtly, Izzorah almost missed it.

He’s hiding something! Izzorah flicked his ears outward, listening for clues, and gave a few sniffs. Something good. But what? Oooh, a surprise. He cleared his throat. “Um, Luc? What are you planning?”

“Planning?” He smiled, his scent full of conflicting layers of smells. Definitely hiding something.

Izzorah sniffed again.

“What?” Luc folded his hands on the table. “Your Kin nose is working overtime this morning. What is it you smell?”

“A surprise.”

Luc widened his dark eyes and rested against the back of his chair. “How the hell do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“Oh, I -- uh...” Luc’s scent filled with an almost burnt butterscotch smell. Worry. Izzorah put his ears down and placed both hands in his lap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil it.”

“It’s all right, love. I’ve never met a Kin who could smell emotions as precisely as you.” He rubbed a hand across his mouth. “Have you always been able to scent this well?” He propped both elbows on the table and rested his chin on both fists.

“Ever since I can remember."

Luc's scent held overtones of cinnamon with crisp mint, very unique to him. Contentment and gratitude. When he smiled like that, it smelled like it came all the way from the depths of his soul.

“I love you, Rah.” He drew Izzorah’s hands to his mouth and kissed the back of his fingers. “But you already know, don’t you?”

He nodded and gave Luc a human smile, showing fang. “So, do you really have a surprise for me?”

Luc laughed. “Yes, love, but you’ll have to wait until later.”

“I love surprises! It’s hard to surprise me, you know.”

“No! Really?” Luc opened his napkin.

Izzorah hooked a claw at him.

“Don’t give me any claw.” Luc shook a finger at him. “Not showing you till later.”

He gave a short sneeze to clear away the various scents so he could focus. “Can I guess?”

“No.” Luc folded his arms, lashes lowered.

Uh-oh. That really means no. Hmmm. Izzorah's napkin started to slide off his lap, and he hooked a claw into it and put it back. Once I learn what all these human facial moves mean it will be a big advantage. It’d be a lot easier if they had decent ears.

Luc picked up his coffee mug, looked into it, and frowned. “I need some coffee.” He lifted his head. “McDoth!”

“Is it another sex game?” Izzorah scooted his chair forward. “Does it involve more chocolate body paint? I liked that.”

Luc chuckled. “Wait and see.” He looked up as McDoth entered with coffee. “Finally!” He rubbed his hands together. “My caffeine system has too much blood in it.” With a glance at Izzorah, who had lifted both ears, he added, “A joke, love. Means I need coffee.”

"Oh! I get it." Izzorah leaned back in his chair. "The guys in the band run on that kind of system, too." He lowered his gaze briefly before lifting his lashes and giving Luc a slow, satisfied smile. "You seem to function pretty well in the mornings without it."

Surrender Love

His friends think it's rebound, his ex swears it's jealousy, but his heart knows, this time, with this lover, it's surrender.

Izzorah -- A little feral, a little innocent, all male. Fleeing a world that denies him basic rights, forced into a society blind to his needs, Rah lives for his music. When a freak accident throws him into the care of the most powerful man in the empire, the attention he receives is beyond anything he'd ever dreamed. But is the attraction he feels toward his rescuer gratitude, lust, or a deeper, abiding call to yield all that he is?

Luc -- the prestige of his power, wealth, and influence directs an empire scattered across the stars. His word shapes the foundations of business and his financial prowess is of mythic proportions. Yet beneath the myths beats the heart of a man who craves what he has never given and is certain he will always be denied -- steadfast, faithful love.

This book is out Tuesday, Feb 17th from Loose Id.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Happy Valentine's Day...

to everyone! What are you doing on this day of hearts? This day is not just for couples, but for singles as well. Take a moment to wind down from your busy schedule and indulge yourself with a long, hot soak then curl up with a good book to read. And I'm suggesting my very own Playing For Real.

Playing For Real
By Madison Blake
All Rights Reserved

Shelli can never have foreseen how one revised board game is going to change her life forever.It all begins when she prepares to attend her company’s annual dinner and dance party with her best friends, Adrian and Ethan, but she gets more than she bargains for when lust hits her right between the eyes the moment she catches them in flagrante delicto. She is so shocked she denies the attraction and thinks herself a voyeur, then is totally thrown out of her depth when she is tormented by fantasies of threesomes. But how can she risk their long-time friendship for sex?

Adrian and Ethan are happy as a couple, but they want Shelli too. After several failed seduction maneuvers, they decide to give it one last try by seducing her with an erotic board game especially designed to set them all afire.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes with same-gender sex.


Remembering the discussion he wanted to have with Ethan, Adrian moved down his lover’s body and gave his cock one regretful lick before sliding up to settle beside him. “You were in a hurry tonight.” He referred to their wild coupling.

Ethan raised his head and supported it on an upraised palm. They stared at each other intently before he answered wryly, “So were you.”

Though he had always been able to speak with reasonable frankness with Ethan, his usual embarrassment with Shelli overcame him just then. His gaze slid away. “I, uh, there’s something I have to tell you. I don’t know how you’d feel about it but I’d appreciate if you could, uh, that is, keep an open mind—”

“Is it Shelli?” Ethan interrupted.

Adrian’s gaze flew back to him in a hurry.

“Have you suddenly realized what a desirable woman she is, how frustrated she made you feel tonight and you want to fuck her but you’re afraid she doesn’t like you in that way?”
With each phrase, Adrian nodded, though he was bewildered as to how Ethan could know what he was feeling. They were close and could almost read each other’s minds but this—

“Good,” Ethan said with a savage light in his eyes. “Because I feel the same way.”

Incredible joy ricocheted through him. “You do?”

“Yes. So now we go about seducing the lovely Shelli Madison.”

Now that he knew Ethan shared his goal, Adrian was able to voice out his doubts. “But tonight, it didn’t seem like she wanted to fuck us. For one thing, she flirted with all her colleagues when she wouldn’t even give us the time of day, though we were supposed to be her dates.” He sent Ethan a sardonic smile. “For another, she went off with that guy and let him have his way with her.” He looked curiously at his lover. “What did you do to him anyway?”

Ethan cracked the knuckles of one hand and sent him a very satisfied smile. “Let’s just say he won’t be bothering Shelli anymore.”

A sudden thought struck him. “You didn’t beat him, did you?”

“No,” Ethan said, annoyed. “I don’t want to get Shelli into trouble. I just warned him very succinctly and fiercely what would happen to his crown jewels should he go near Shelli again.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have. What if she fancied him?” Adrian sighed and shook his head. “Because it sure looks like she’s very satisfied being just friends with us.”

“We’ll just have to change her mind.”

Which was just what he was thinking earlier on. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship for the sake of a fuck, Ethan.”

“We won’t,” Ethan said impatiently. “Look, I was there at the party too and I saw what you saw and I agree, your interpretation of things could be right. But what if—for the sake of argument—what if she’s hot for us the way we’re hot for her? She could be confused and bewildered at her new feelings and so, she hid behind safe and known actions. Until I get a definite ‘no’ from her, I’m not giving up.”

With each word that Ethan uttered, Adrian felt hope springing from within him. “What’s the plan?” Adrian had a good brain and if applied diligently, he could have come up with something. But Ethan’s was more cunning and he always had a lot of tricks up his sleeve.
That was why he knew better than to interrupt when Ethan’s eyes lost their focus the way they always did whenever he was thinking. But when he laughed some time later, Adrian knew his lover had hit onto something.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Ethan promised as he lay back on the bed. “But now, shouldn’t you continue what you were doing with my cock?”

Want to read more? Get it

Madison Blake

Friday, February 13, 2009

Sultry's CHAT at TRS

Be sure you all read the post below about my new book Casino - Star Shine AND be sure you make the first chat Sultry Summers has had in a very long time - tomorrow night - yea - I know its Valentines Day but try to stop by! Right here at The Romance Studio's own Chat room at 9 pm est. I'll be talking about my newest book out Casino - Star Shine and of course the other two already out plus the next two due out - one in May - Troy - Lovers Lost In The Mists - that one is a real fun book - I call it a time slip - stop-by and find out why and following it due out in August is my first ever Contemporary - Mistress Says Faster - Its a short but its full of erotic sex between a female motorcycle rider and a bad boy motorcycle hijacker - or is he? Either way when Mistress Says Faster - the three thugs who try to steal her new Harley find out what she means. I'll also be giving aways some free reads - my new one of course and a couple of the previous ones. I hope to see you there


Check out my web site at



The stealthily hidden gaming/bordello floats between glowing nebulas offering an exotic – erotic venue of entertainment. Lord Kalx came to enjoy the night life and the trained pleasure women.
‘Blaze’ was abducted and is on 'sale' at the auction as a sex slave.
Thrown together they quickly learn the Casino is a nest of intrigue, love and murder. Blaze - terrified of her new owner Kalx finds they have much in common but most important they must stop the sadistic female general bent on possessing Blaze at any cost to extort the secret of teleportation – from her father.


Blaze fought back, finally, despite the restraints landing a hard kick on the thigh of the assistant. He drew back to strike her but she blocked his blow and before he could attempt another, the auctioneer called him away.
Kalx's mouth watered. Her moves were those of a warrior. She would breed fine sons and daughters. He waited, the bidding going swift and high. When it reached seventy-five thousand credits, a bid from the voice of General Tra’vyn, silenced the rest, seemingly confirming what Narf suspected, the general wanted her for her own reasons. No one else was willing or wealthy enough to afford that much for one woman. Kalx allowed the auctioneer to twice call the bid then entered his bid—one hundred twenty-five thousand credits.
A gasp of surprise washed through the patrons, but the general didn’t attempt to top his sum. Kalx guessed her funds weren’t authorized to go that high.
Blaze was his. Kalx strode up to the podium, looked Blaze up, and down. Their gazes clashed, pure disgust, arrogance, and terror made for an interesting mix from Blaze’s eyes. Kalx smirked, knowing she would be a handful to train or do anything else with unless she wished it, or was in some manner compelled. Kalx smiled a purposefully wicked grin, took the controls to the restraints that bound her hands and the leash to her collar and started to walk away. When she would not come with him, he jerked her against his hard chest, knocking the air from her.
“You would prefer to remain here, and be ogled by these patrons?” Kalx asked. “We can begin your training here, if you prefer.” He watched her look of arrogance change just before he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She had not recognized him in the terror of the circumstances that now surrounded her. With a giant gasp of air, Blaze refilled her lungs to scream but before the sound could leave her, Kalx smacked her ass. The cry died on her lips. “Good, I don't want to hear another sound out of you.” He gently patted her reddened bottom.
As Kalx neared the back of the building, he saw the official clerks who handled the business end of the auction. “Your Majesty,” the man bowed. “We are so happy you found a toy at our auction.”
“Yes but my new pet needs manner training I fear. I believe that comes with owner's instruction as well?” Kalx joked while Blaze struggled when she heard his plans. He popped her hard on the butt again, then allowed his fingers to sweep through the small amount of red hair on her exposed sex. Kalx wondered if she was so embarrassed and terrified by her situation her struggling had stopped from pure shock. Possibly she had realized the official addressed him as your Majesty and she realized his dress was a disguise.

Casino - Star Shine by Sutlry Summers

Release on Feb. 15 by Whiskey Creek Press

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Diet Another Day

I don't know about you, but I'm tired of dieting. I stick to a plan for weeks, then plateau and give up. Months later, I've gained three fourths of the weight back. I bought a treadmill, and hunky hubby built me a reading stand for it. I'm hoping exercise might be a magic trick. What are you doing to lose weight this time? Or are you healthy and happy in your beautiful skin?


By Sammie Jo Moresca
A frumpy New York librarian travels to Miami Beach to enroll in a killer weight loss boot camp. Chasing the aroma of pizza to an adjacent room leads her into the arms of two sailors. The Navy doctors feel she is just the candidate for their own weight loss program: Eat anything that tastes delicious, exercise one hour daily, and oh yes, the orgasms are required.

The whirlpool pummeling her lower back was a welcome hurt-so-good kind of pain to her exercise abused body.Crystal was sore in places she didn't know contained muscles. Her tendons hurt. Her ligaments hurt. Her veins hurt. And she couldn't believe she was in this five-hundred-dollar a night suite, sipping a room service cosmopolitan in a sailor's candlelit bathroom. Well, do a good deed and you get rewarded sometimes. It was very kind of him to let her have an evening respite from the grueling boot camp. She certainly didn't want to be stuck in the dorm room listening to Rosaleen sobbing and slinging snot.

Crystal tipped the martini glass and tickled the last pink drop with her tongue. It had been lovely taking a walk on the rich side of the tracks, but she needed to get back to the dormitory and try to sleep. Stepping out of the tub onto the plush white bathmat, she wrapped a humongous bath sheet around her and toweled off. A candlelit reflection in the wall mirror caught her breath. She couldn't be the alluring woman staring back. It must be the booze on a nearly starved stomach.

Maybe she could hint for the officer and a gentleman to order just one more round before she left.Perhaps he might even be inclined to intoxicate her in theway only a man can do. Slipping into the red hotel robe,Crystal it left loosely tied, so some cleavage would show. All men loved large breasts.

He was seated fireside, sipping from a fluted crystal glass.An ice bucket with a magnum of champagne chilled next to a bouquet of pink roses. Her gaze watched his eyes, hooded with seduction. She walked over to him and licked the rim ofhis glass. Oh, my gosh. I didn't just do that.

"This is your night, Crystal." He tilted the glass and poured it into her mouth. She swallowed the sweet bubbles. They popped as he refilled it. She felt his eyes on the creamy flesh peeking from her crimson robe.

She seized the glass and downed it with one gulp. He took it back from her and placed it on the mantle. Removing thef rosty bottle, he took her hand and walked toward the French doors. Opening one enough to allow her admittance to the bedroom, she abruptly stopped at the site of the king-sized bed. In the moonlight from the open drapery, and from the two flickering candles on the nightstands, the headboard looked to be about eight feet tall and ornately engraved. A white gossamer canopy billowed down from a cathedral ceiling. She heard Spenser close the door as her eyes adjusted to the naked man on the bed. Her breath hitched.

Spenser said, "Crystal, I'd like you to meet Tim."

"It's wonderful to meet you, Crystal." He reached for her. Both men waited for her response.

"What's going on here?" she demurely asked, knowing she must be dreaming, or hallucinating from dehydration.

Tim replied, "We're here to pleasure you, Crystal."

"Both of you?"

Phaze Boooks

Also Availble in Paperback in the More, More, More! anthology:

Sherry Morris aka Sammie Jo Moresca

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

The Aquarian Age of Love

Or ~ The New Magic of the Musical, Hair ...

Hi, everyone, the song, AQUARIUS from the musical HAIR is being magically revived on this upcoming Valentine's The astrological vibrations sung about in this *bring in the New Age* well-known least, to my generation...are occurring once again...ushering in the New Age of Love.
Now, in the early morning of February 12 we start the new Aquarius alignment. This is when the Moon moves into Libra (7th house). This alignment culminates around 6:00 AM on February 14, which is Valentines Day. There will be five planets in Aquarius, plus the node. During this time period Jupiter will align with Mars in Aquarius and the moon will be in the 7th house.
Remember the song Aquarius.... When the planets lined up in 1962 the moon was not in the 7th house. In this alignment the moon will be in the 7th house. The year 1962 brought in the first inkling of the new age and now it is ready to mature.

By Astrologer ~ Mahala Gayle ~ ~
Okay, I also dabble in numerology, inspired by Glynis McCants, the numbers lady. Well, today is a triple magical love so? It’s TWO, TWO, TWO. February is the 2nd month. Day 11 breaks down to a 2 in numerology. And, this is the Year of Two [2+0+0+9=11=2].
TWO is the number of love, of union and romance.
Today would be ideal for nurturing the your beloved, all the ones you love. Let them know how much you care about them and truly love them.
To help bring in The Aquarian Age of Love why not celebrate Valentine’s Day with that in mind? And I’m certain any extra and extremely passionate encounters will only enhance this new loving power... *wink-wink *
And yes, I have a Happy Valentine's announcement. WHEN A GOOD ANGEL FALLS, my fantasy futuristic erotic romance, is now IN PRINT !!!

It’s a red-letter week for me, as in an early Valentine’s Day gift ~


Winter Solstice, December 21, 2012 – The end of the Mayan Calendar

Blurb: What happens when a world weary, worn out incarnated angel, Sedona, who believes she is merely human has three choices after her old van breaks down? Let the Nazerazzi squad of the North American Union capture her and force her into a FEMA concentration camp? Walk out into the Arizona night desert, let the wildlife have a good meal, with the hope her death will be quick? Or does Sedona trust the mysterious stranger suddenly before her? Handsome as sin and all in black, he emerges from the darkness astride a super-speed black motorcycle.
Is he her savior from the brutal hell of end times, or is he a roving cult member of the New World Order, hunting his next blood sacrifice?
Sent from heaven to help her save humanity, Zerr Dann knows the Divine is playing its last card on Earth.
Valentine’s Day, will it still be around in 2013 ~

Sedona & Volcano invite you to read their love story ~
WHEN A GOOD ANGEL FALLS ~ Where angels fear to tread, 2012 Earth...Is a stranger on a superspeed motorcycle her savior from the brutal endtimes? ~ available from BookStrand ~ ~ ~ An Author Discovery by Lindsay Townsend ~ ~
Volcano’s Angelic Forecast for this week ~ ~
~~~ Now available at Barnes & Noble and Amazon ~~~
Volcano, my carnal cherub hero, in When a Good Angel Falls has been offering his angelic forecasts each week on the Siren-BookStrand blog ~ here is the latest one...

Volcano’s Angelic Forecast ~ Angelic Forecast ~ XXIII

My head spins, my eyes are performing pinwheels. Being a romance author, I’m definitely on Valentine overload with possibilities and commitments... and where, oh where is my Cherub?
“Go ahead.” I hear the Heavenly One’s whisper in my ear.
“Go ahead?”
“Maybe,” I say. “What about the Aquarian Age of Love upon us now? You know, from the musical, Hair ~ and the song, Aquarius.
“When the moon is in the Seventh House
And Jupiter aligns with Mars
Then peace will guide the planets
And love will steer the stars...”
The Cherub sings in my ear. “Yes, Valentine’s Day in the year of 2009,” he continues, “this alignment event occurs again ~ the Aquarian portal of Love. The opening, the beginning, the transcendence... it’s all about love,” he grandiose finishes.
“All you need is love. The Beatles,” I add my little piece.
“Share,” the Heavenly One prompts again. “You wrote it.”
I nod, acquiescing...yet, knowing he is right.
From my Kougar Kisses blog ~ February 7, 2009

Valentine’s Day ~ A New Age of Love Big LOVE-ly Cats, the Kougar sniffs and paw-tests the forecast winds arriving as the official age of Aquarian Love on February 14, 2009. The events on the world stage this week will be a synopsis of what is to come for several years. More than ever, good will clash with evil and this will be witnessed on every level of society. Good will shine as evil will glitter all the more brilliantly as it show its face more and more.
Perhaps, the wisest strategy is to remember >>> do not cast your pearls before swine ~ the exception being Miss Piggy <<<<>>> do cast your pearls before those you love and accept pearls from those who love you ~ maoow-rubbing-purr, that pearl necklace is lovely, darling, thank you, smooch-smooch<<< Sometimes it will be obvious who the swine are, and are not. At other times, it will not be so obvious, the distinction difficult to determine. Love in all its faceted splendor will become more and more evident, as will the lack of love. For truly our freedom as human beings will depend on how much we LOVE each other. Ultimately. Or in the immortal words of the Beatles ~ All YOU NEED IS LOVE ~ Angelic blessings from Volcano & Sedona

May your most romantic dreams come true...

Savanna Kougar

~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

For all of my available titles, please visit ~ ~