Super Book Blast: Steal Me, Cowboy @AuthorKimBoykin #Contemporary #Romance #GoddessFish

Welcome to the Super Book Blast for Steal Me, Cowboy by Kim Boykin. Enjoy the excerpt, and don't forget to comment. The author and publisher will be awarding a $15 Starbucks card, Valentine mug, and yummy candies to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour (US only).

Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here:  http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2014/01/super-book-blast-steal-me-cowboy-by-kim.html

STEAL ME, COWBOY

by Kim Boykin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB:

Unbeknownst to her boyfriend, Sassy South Carolina hairstylist, Rainey Brown, is headed to Missoula, dead set on giving her minor league baseball player boyfriend of four years an ultimatum. Either put a ring on it or let her go, preferably not the latter.
When Rainey's piece of crap car dies in the middle of Nowhere, Montana, she's sure she's a gonner, until gorgeous restaurateur Beck Hartnett stops to help. Beck falls hard for Rainey, and knows she would admit she's fallen for him too, if she wasn't too stubborn to admit it. Beck has five days before the car is repaired to steal Rainey away from a boyfriend who doesn't deserve her. Five days before she's gone for good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

STEAL ME, COWBOY Excerpt


My last client of the day meticulously inspected her razor-sharp bob, trying to find a reason to stay in my chair. This was a language I knew well, usually a sign that something was going on in a client’s life, something they would never tell their sister or their mother or even their therapist. They tell me because I’m a hair stylist. For most women, that trumps everything, but for God’s sake, why did Katie Mills have to wait until now to start her therapy session?

She handed the mirror back to me and looked into the big round one on my station. “Jackson’s cheating. Again.” This was something Katie couldn’t tell anyone, or at least that’s what she swore to me. She attributed it to the fact that she was one of my first clients when I got out of beauty school six years ago and we were friends. And we are, but that wasn’t it. There’s some kind of transfer of trust that takes place when you snap a cape on a client, when you stand over them with a pair of scissors and their wet hair, either giving them what they want or saving them from making a huge mistake.

I looked at her, knowing if things went the way they normally did when her husband couldn’t keep his pants zipped, we’d end up getting coffee or tapas at the bar two doors down, drinking wine and talking for hours. No wonder she’d asked for the last appointment of the day. I glanced at the clock. Adam would be landing any minute, waiting for me at baggage claim with that tall delicious body, that beautiful smile. Then he’d spend the rest of the weekend making me forget how tired and frustrated I’d been lately with our relationship.

Katie knew as well as anyone that I hardly ever got to see Adam. I’d met him four years ago when he was playing minor league baseball for the Tampa Yankees and instantly knew he was the one. Since then he’s lived with me here, in Columbia, South Carolina, when he wasn’t bouncing around from farm system to farm system, trying to make it to the major leagues. But moving up the baseball ladder is the equivalent of winning the lottery, and as much as I loved Adam… since I met him, he’d been steadily moving down the ladder. “Katie, I’m sorry, really I am—.”

“I’m just so sick of Jackson’s shit, Rainey. I know it’s some girl in the athletic department. She’s probably twenty something with tits up to here.” If they were up to her neck, the girl must look like an alien. “Wanna grab a coffee?”
Jackson was a serial cheater, but as athletic director at the University of South Carolina, he made a lot of money. Katie liked the money so much she had put up with his antics at three different universities. She’d had babies thinking that would keep him home and monogamous, but all she had to show for her efforts were three towheaded little boys and a chronically broken heart.
“I can’t, Katie, I have to pick Adam up.” She looked like I’d stuck a knife in her back. “We haven’t seen each other in three months.”

Katie’s chin quivered as she held my gaze in the mirror, tears pooled in her chocolate brown eyes. She was still a beautiful woman, a Mississippi belle who’d somehow lost herself along the way. I could have told her she was still gorgeous, that she was bright and funny, and sexy when she turned on her Ole Miss charm.

But the look in her eyes reminded me of myself lately. I thought I was used to loving Adam Harper any way I could get him. Lately, I’ve wanted more. Needed more.  “I’m sorry, Katie.” I couldn’t look at her when I unsnapped the cape. “I can meet you for coffee Sunday afternoon after I drop Adam off at the airport.”

“What am I going to do now?”

What you always do. You go back to Jackson. I wish you wouldn’t, but you do the insanity dance over and over again, losing weight, shopping, Botox, trying to change yourself in hopes that your husband will change, but he can’t or he won’t. I put my hands on her slender shoulders and said the words I’d wanted to say to her since I met her, the words I thought were too pushy or too dangerous.

“Katie, you are beautiful. You are valuable. And if that bastard can’t see that, to hell with him.”

“Are you saying I should leave my husband?”

Yes. No. These are the moments when I feel the truth, that I’m a hair stylist and not a trained therapist. I don’t want to be responsible for a broken marriage—hell, broken marriages— because Katie isn’t the only client who has a spouse like Jackson, but I had to leave. Now.

I rifled through my station and found the business cards Ruthie Cox gave me. She was a therapist and said I’d probably never need to pass out her cards because in many ways, Ruthie felt I was better equipped to help clients than she was. It took several visits, sometimes months, for Ruthie’s clients to trust her enough to tell her their problems, and yet those same people could sit in the chair of a hairstylist they hardly knew and bare their souls.

“Call Ruthie. She’s a wonderful therapist. She’ll help you sort this out. I love you Katie, I do.” The tears were coming. Again. I’d cried a lot lately missing Adam so much, wishing just once that he’d pick me over baseball. “It’s just been so long since I’ve seen him, and I only have thirty-six hours before he flies out again.” I choked out the last words, grabbed my purse, and left without looking back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Kim Boykin is a women's fiction author with a sassy Southern streak. She is the author of The Wisdom of Hair, Steal Me, Cowboy, and Palmetto Moon (Summer 2014.) While her heart is always in South Carolina, she lives in Charlotte, North Carolina, with her husband, 3 dogs, and 126 rose bushes.

Kim Boykin website: http://kimboykin.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorkimboykin
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorKimBoykin

Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/Steal-Cowboy-Copper-Mountain-Rodeo-ebook/dp/B00HLPNH84/ref=la_B009955Q2Y_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1389721851&sr=1-2

Author Spotlight: Love Me Sane by Tralisa McNeal #Interview #Contempory #Inspirational #Excerpt

Today I'm interviewing author Tralisa McNeal. Her book - Love Me Sane - is a powerful, heartfelt story about a woman struggling with issues of  abuse. I'm anxious to find out more about the story, and how Tralisa came to write it.

Hi Tralisa and welcome! Can you tell us a little bit about yourself? 

I am a divorced mother of one child. I had eight siblings. My oldest sister passed away in 2007. I am the youngest girl in the family. I have a brother who is 11 months younger than me.

How did you choose the genre you write in? 

My life experiences dictate the genre. For example if I like the experience I may write non-fiction. However, if I don’t like the experience I may change the ending and turn the story into realistic fiction which is what I did with my first book Love Me Sane. I also write poetry which is based on real or imaginary experiences. I wrote a non-fiction book from my son’s perspective about the death of my sister. The title of the book is “Please Auntie Don’t Leave Without Saying Goodbye.” Obviously this was not a happy experience but the lesson was too important to alter. The purpose of the book is to teach children about death, dying and grief. 

Do you work with an outline, or just write?

I do not work with an outline. My writing schedule is very flexible so I don’t experience writers block. I write when I feel like it. When I first started writing my book Love Me Sane I had a very rigid schedule which would stress me out. About the middle of the book I felt like I had a deadline to meet even if I felt like I didn’t have anything to say that day. Consequently I am learning me as a professional writer and stress is not what allows my creative juices to flow. Now, I write because I want to and not because I have to. I will not cloud my passion with negativity.

Is there any particular author or book that influenced you in any way either growing up or as an adult? 

Judy Blume had a significant impact on my writing career. I remember thinking if she can write I can too.

Can you tell us about your challenges in getting your first book published?

I had two major challenges with writing my first book. The first was formatting my book properly to download on Createspace and Amazon, I really struggled through that but I made it through in the dark so the next book will be just as challenging. The second was editing. I absolutely hate editing.

What project are you working on now?

I am working on several projects at the moment. The most important is the sequel to Love Me Sane titled Beyond Transgressions.

Will you have a new book coming out soon?

Yes, I will have Beyond Transgressions coming out mid spring and I’m not sure when my poetry book will be available. I have written enough poems to complete a book I just haven’t done it yet.

What has been the toughest criticism given to you as an author? What has been the best compliment?

The toughest criticism has been because of my choice of words. The purpose of this book is to draw people to Christ. But, I’m often criticized because of the profanity which I call profanity with a purpose. My word choice is intentional. I want to inform the reader that no one is perfect and no matter how far down we go God still forgives us.

Do you have any advice to give to aspiring writers?

Everybody has a story to tell just don’t give up until you’ve told yours.

Is there anything that you would like to say to your readers and fans?

I thrive on feedback. I need to hear from you.

Author's Links

Website: http://lovemesane.wordpress.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tralisa.mcneal
Blog: http://bookblogs.ning.com/profile/TralisaMcNeal
Poetry Blog: http://wp.me/25ozb 

*****

LOVE ME SANE

BLURB

My name is Stacey Jones. I honestly believe that my sole purpose
for being on Earth is to establish a solid trusting relationship with a loving God so that I may spend an eternity with him in heaven. How can I build a connection with a God who sometimes seems evasive, unrealistic and egocentric? I should be ashamed to say this, but I've blessed and cursed Jesus in the same breath. Later, I'm asking for forgiveness. Is this too much information for the "perfect Christian"? I'm sure you've passed all tested trials with flying colors. You think this is a secret I should keep to myself? I disagree. I wish I could say life's been good and worth living, but there have been many days when I've begged the "Good Lord" to take me out of here. I've always been somebody's perfect victim. My questions scare the "ideal Christians." I pretend like everything's okay, singing songs of praise and worshipping a God I don't understand, who disappears just when I think I'm getting close to him. Rod believes this is blasphemy so I'm trapped. I look to heaven and scream, "Enough already." I don't want to go to hell. I've taken chances on Rod's convictions. But, now I've reached my spiritual bottom. His faith can no longer sustain me. I'm not ashamed to ask, "Will you trudge with me on this journey to find my God?

www.createspace.com/3732266
http://www.amazon.com/Love-Me-Sane-Tralisa-McNeal/dp/146798311
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/tralisamcneal

Blog Tour: Sins of Wolves @DestinyBlaine #BDSM #BikerRomance

Coming January 30^th

Sins of Wolves: The Safe Mountain series

Written by Destiny Blaine and Marc Alice

Published by Dark Hollows Press

In the mountains of Tennessee, there is only one safe place for pure young women to hide. To live there they must rebel against the new country's law and order and leave everything familiar behind. As they embrace an uncertain future, the women become the submissive mates to some of the most powerful Doms of our time.

Small town Tennessee is under siege. The Sins of Wolves, a local motorcycle gang, promises to protect the town while politicians vow to strip all innocent young women from their homes.

With an oath to protect the young, the MC arrives with one lone mission. They're not there to negotiate their terms. They're there to search and save.

They're looking for the confirmed. They want the condemned and chosen. And when they find them, they steal away with innocent women they fully intend to claim.

The Great Age of Innocence is upon us and for Sevier County locals the burning question is on the minds of many. Should families relinquish their loved ones to the national armies collecting young women to sell in an international sex trade or should they trust the MC and pray their daughters will eventually make it out of Safe Mountain alive!

Condemned and Chosen

Dark Hollows Press

Excerpt One

There’s an old sayin’ around these parts about bikes. Some folks, die hard bikers that is, say motorcycles don’t leak oil, they just mark their territory. In Sevier County, that was a common belief before the Great Age of Innocence began, before corrupt leaders took over the country with promises of much needed reform, the kind of political pitches that made a person stand up and pay attention.

Those oaths were a pack of lies all tied up in pretty little bows, kind of like those satin ribbons unsuspecting mothers braided into their daughters’ hair on their seventeenth birthday, the very day most young women were confirmed.

Time changes the definition behind simple words, just as it changes the meaning behind once-significant phrases and quotes.

The bikes roaring through town aren’t there to mark their territory. They speed through a city so quickly, they don’t have time to leave behind evidence that they’ve even been there.

The MC rides through the streets with purpose. They arrive for one lone mission.

They’re not there to protect or guard. They’re there to search and rescue.

They’re looking for the confirmed. They want the condemned, the chosen.

And when they find them, they steal away with the most precious of gifts, innocent women they fully intend to claim

And Don’t Miss the Sins of Wolves Prequel

An Angel’s Wings is found in the Dear Santa: A Collection of Erotic Holiday Stories anthology, available now at Dark Hollows Press and all third party retail sites.

Jack scoured the area as far as the eye could see under the full moon’s light. The solid white earth stretched before him with more tracks and prints. He slapped his hand next to what soon became his sample, using his fingers to predict measurements.

“Jack, what is it?” Martha called out to him from their porch, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her of his suspicions.

His vision blurred. His eyes throbbed. It was like a drummer boy stood over him, beating his head like a worn-out drum. The noise became louder instead of softer as the vehicles raced down the mountain, drowning out that dull beat now pulsing in his ears.

Jack ran his fingers around the embedded paw shape, about twice the size of his hand. He rose to his feet and followed the trail, expecting to see a clear path straight into the forest. Instead, he stared out over an open field of freshly fallen snow.

His uncertainties left him to wonder about his child’s bleak future. Had he protected his only daughter or had he thrown Romy to the wolves, to a pack of dogs just waiting to strip away her innocence, maybe even her life?

His daughter had slipped away with renegades, maybe even outright rogues. Now, she was out there somewhere, riding with bikers, with men who were considered dangerous. These men stood against the new laws and order of a country shaped by indecision and scandal. They were thought of as defectors and traitors, yet Jack had entrusted his daughter’s life with them because the alternative guaranteed death and destruction wrought with horror and unknowns.

Sure, Romy faced an undetermined destiny, but given the alternative, she at least had hope. Under the cover of a dark, black night, Romy was headed for Safe Mountain, a legendary protective haven for innocent young women.

As a father, Jack prayed the place would live up to its name.

Follow us at The Sins of Wolves blog

And visit Amazon or Dark Hollows Press today to purchase your copy of Condemned and Chosen

Release Blitz: Queen's Quest by Suz deMello #erotic #ménage

Queen’s Quest by Suz deMello

Blurb:

Janus is a planet that lacks both tilt and spin. Shadowlands is the pewter band of dusk dividing the violently hot Lightside of the planet from its Darkside, which is imprisoned by eternal night. Birth rates on the planet are low and indiscriminate mating and ménage sex are encouraged.

Audryn, Queen of Shadow, has reached that time in her life when she must choose a King to rule with her or fail to bear an heir, casting not only her realm but all of Janus into chaos. Despite her duty, she is reluctant to share power, even a bit distrustful. Janus’ nobles vie for Audryn’s hand. Although she enjoys trysting with all her suitors, none seize her heart.

Then Storne, the warrior Prince of Darkness, arrives to claim her as his bride, and she finds she cannot resist his masterful ways.

Inside Scoop:  This book contains lots of hot ménage action including a F/F/M scene.

Buy link: http://www.ellorascave.com/queen-s-quest.html

*****

Excerpt:

I sent a message to Storne, the Prince of Darkness, requesting that he attend me toward the end of my toilette, and told Maia to prepare me with especial care for that evening’s dinner. I sent out all other servants so I could speak with her privately about him.

As I reclined on a golden velvet settee, she shaved me, a bolster beneath my hips and my legs wide so my pussy was accessible. With quick, deft strokes of the razor, she cleared the curls from both sides of my delta, then from my labia, so the area ‘round my clitoris was smooth. She then cleansed me with a damp cloth before massaging my sex flesh with lotion scented with soothing lavender and chamomile.

I raised my arms above my head, lifting my breasts so they crinkled in the cool air. Storne, I thought, and I tingled from head to toe. “What did you think of him?”

She did not ask me the subject of my question, but said, “I like him. He is direct and honest in his ways, and has the respect of his men.” She fluffed a powderpuff between my thighs.

I sighed, my pussy throbbing. “How large is his...entourage?”

“Large enough, I trow. The DarkDwellers make dwarves of us all.”

“I have a task for you.”

Maia set the shaving implements on the sideboard, then turned to regard me with her fullest attention. I sat up and took a hairbrush, handing it to her. As she brushed, I talked.

“I do not wish the leaders of Darkness and Light to ever be alone together.”
She paused, and the brush stilled. “I see your concern. If they join against Shadow, we would have no chance against their combined forces.”

“Yes. We would be squeezed like an orange in a press, the life-giving juices extracted and the dry husk left to rot.” Fear twisted deep in my belly.
The brushing resumed. “Kaldir strikes me as ignorant of statecraft.”

“I agree. He may not have thought of such a strategy, but Storne...”

“Yes. I, also, believe it must have occurred to the Prince of Darkness. Storne is far too canny a warrior to allow this opportunity to pass unheeded.”

“Or at least considered the possibilities. He has a reputation as a fine soldier.”

The brushing concluded, she tugged at a bellpull. “I will make certain that Darkness and Light do not merge. But you must also do your part.”

I smiled. “That will be my pleasure.”

Several of my ladies entered, opening wardrobes and bringing out gowns for my inspection. Others braided my hair and pinned it to the top of my head like a crown while others rimmed my eyes with charcoal, pinkened my lips with a rose tint. With unaccustomed nerves, I dithered over my choices, wondering which dress or what color would most entice Storne. I finally said, “The rose pink, the one trimmed with gold lace.” I felt overheated, and the gown was of thin, slick satin. Cooling, as in cooling my lust. I did not want to indulge in hasty actions with the Prince of Darkness.

I continued, “And high shoes. I do not wish to look like a dwarf.”

Maia emitted a sharp bark of laughter as she found pink stockings, which were fastened above my knees with ruffled garters of golden lace. She draped a pink chemise over my head, which was followed by a matching corset, laced tightly to show my narrow waist and lift my breasts. I slid my feet into the heeled slippers, and as the satin gown was tossed over my head, I heard a door open, followed by the clatter of boots.

“Lord Storne.” Maia’s tone was respectful.

I shook my head free of the enveloping folds of lace and satin as she tugged the gown into place. “Good evening,” I said.

“Audryn.” Without being bidden, he approached. He reached for me, then stopped. “May I?”

“Y-yes.” I did not know what he intended, but...

His smile transformed his angular face. He wrapped a big hand behind my neck. His grasp was firm, warm, the skin of his palm a little rough, from swordplay or riding, I imagined. I tried to breathe through a tight, nervous throat.

He kissed me full on the lips, rather than a chaste buss on my cheek, which would have been proper. Though he did not intrude his tongue, the contact was warm, vital and vigorous, hinting at the pleasure we could share.

As he withdrew, his gaze met mine, the gray eyes demanding, gentle and amused. How he packed so many emotions into one glance was a mystery to me. I told myself I was imagining more in his look than actually was there.

I had become infatuated by the Prince of Darkness swiftly...far too swiftly. That was bad. I could not make decisions affecting the history and welfare of my realm based on a passing fancy.

Maia bustled around me, fastening golden earbobs onto my lobes, bracelets on my wrists. Another lady laced my gown up the back. I was grateful for their presence, for the respite that the mundane tasks afforded; I could collect myself, regain my lost poise.
When I was dressed, Storne said, “Let’s walk before dinner.”
“Certainly.” I donned long, pink satin gloves. Fingerless, they wouldn’t impede me when eating or touching. Again, anxiety cramped me to the guts, but I laid a hand onto his elbow.
He had bathed from top to toe. Most of his dark mane hung loose, but the thick locks at each side of his face were braided, leaving his features, angular but pleasing, exposed. Amber and musk from the EastMarch scented his hair. He wore fine garments subdued in color: deep blue shot and trimmed with silver. The hue complemented his coloring. Hose of the same rich tone limned brawny legs. He was aware of Shadowland fashion, for his codpiece was large and embroidered with thick silver thread. His velvet doublet bore a design with the sacred oak and fiery mountain, traditional symbols of Darkside nobility, nature-worshippers all.

His gray eyes continued expressive, holding intelligence and humor, and his mouth was unexpectedly sensual. A fantasy image of his lips caressing my pussy drifted across my mind.

He led me through the palace with a sure step, showing no uncertainty. Our respective retinues followed. Behind me, the train of my gown swept the slates, but as it didn’t have panniers or hoops, our bodies occasionally bumped as we walked. Each contact shot a scintillating trail of desire along my skin.

“Do you know your way? Where are we going?” I asked.

He cast me an amused glance. “I had a free hour to explore your castle. It is an admirable stronghold.”

He took me to the same terrace where I’d so joyously given my virginity on my Exhibition Day. When our servants attempted to follow, I said, “It’s all right. There are plenty of people below.”

True enough; down on the lawns, tearing apart the sod, a herd of magnificent taqqa milled and stamped, huge animals with shaggy ochre-colored pelts, massive humped shoulders and curved horns, themselves long, sharp weapons. Some of the beasts were mounted by armored warriors almost as big as Storne, while the rest were laden. Servants, both Shadowlanders and Darksiders, busily unloaded and stacked boxes, baskets, trunks, rugs and portmanteaux. That our people worked together amicably was not lost on me.

“For you,” Storne said.

I stared at him.

“Tribute.”

My eyes widened. “You owe me no tribute, and you cannot buy me.”

“No, but I see that I must woo you.” That smile again, so unexpected from such a solemn mien. “I am but a rough warrior, but I wish to be your rough warrior.”
Pleasure robbed me of speech. I was touched by his courtliness, so at odds with his earlier arrogance. And he was an astute judge of character. He had taken my measure immediately and adjusted his approach. He had also come prepared for any eventuality.

He took out a small pouch from a hidden pocket in his doublet. “My first gift to you.”

My face felt too small for my smile. “Thank you.” Excited, I reached for the red satin bag, hoping it contained jewelry. Darkside boasted a wealth of minerals and gems, and its artisans excelled in the craft of jewelry design.

He pulled it out of my reach. “Let me show you. Rumor tells me that women of the Shadowlands enjoy this kind of gift, and I will enjoy knowing that you wear it.” He tugged apart the drawstring at the pouch’s top and upended it above his cupped palm. A stream of molten gold spilled forth, resolving into a fine chain, nearly three feet long.

Puzzled, I took it out of his hand and held it up to examine it by the light of the torches lining the marble terrace. The chain had little scissor-like appendages at each end, each maybe the size of my thumbnail. The scissors had curved blades that weren’t sharp but were lined with tiny seed pearls, leaving a circular gap in the center perhaps the size of a baby pea. The ends were curlicued to wrap around each other.

I raised my brows at Storne.

“Allow me.” But he didn’t take the chain, instead reaching for my bodice.
I gasped and pulled away. “Sir, you presume too much.”

“Do I?” He paced the length of the terrace, then returned. “Audryn, there is only one sure test of our ability to rule together, and this mating is a radical step neither of us can take without some...experimentation. I know you approach your seventeenth starturn, and you have sworn to crown your king on that day.”
My jaw tightened. “Your spies are most effective.”

“Thus, time grows short. Please.” He reached for me again, and this time I did not resist. He was right; besides, I wanted him to touch me intimately. Though his hands were rough, he handled my breasts with tenderness, lifting them above the gown and away from the corset’s confinement, resting them atop my lace-trimmed neckline. Cool air washed my breasts, a delightful sensation. My nipples wrinkled. He passed a hand over the mounded flesh, traced one curved pink aureole’s edge. Need flared through me, and my pussy dampened anew.
He smiled. “I suppose that I will have to learn to enjoy the public sex that your customs demand. And I may as well begin...now.” He slid an arm around me and bent his head to kiss first one nipple and then the other, licking around the aureole, sucking to lengthen the tips until they were hard and distended.

He gripped my left one between his teeth and gave it a sharp little nip. I gasped, “Storne!”

“Did that hurt?”

“A little.”

He rubbed his lips over the tiny pain he’d caused, and the sting dissolved into a haze of pleasure. He took one of the scissorlike appendages and opened the clasp, then closed it around my swollen nipple.

The tiny pearls gripped the very tip of my breast, lighting a spark of need that zipped to my pussy. I rested my face against his chest, breathing deeply in a vain attempt to control my reaction. I felt heat in my cheeks and the softness of his velvet doublet, my pulsing clit...an array of dizzying sensations.

He dropped the chain, and the slight weight tugging on my nipple built my pussy’s spark into a fire. He lifted my right breast higher and pinched my nipple, kissed and licked the tip. When it also swelled, he fastened the other clip to it. The fire roared into a blaze, and I grabbed his shoulders, flinging back my head. He laid a trail of kisses across my bare chest, up to my throat, along my jawline before he reached my lips.

This time, he took my mouth with a commanding kiss, holding me so tightly that I could feel the embroidery on his doublet abrade my naked breasts. My captured nipples rubbed across velvet, scraped across silver thread. I tore my lips away from his and I cried out, heedless of the warriors and servants below. I cared for nothing but the man who held me in his arms, who had claimed me when he chained my breasts, took my mouth.

*****

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Liquid Silver Books and Ai Press, where she is currently Managing Editor. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

--Find her books at http://www.suzdemello.com
--For editing services, email her at suzswift@yahoo.com
--Befriend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sueswift, and visit her group at
   http://www.facebook.com/HotWriters
--She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun
--Her current blog is http://www.fearlessfastpacedfiction.com

Release Blitz: The Pygmalion Hypnotist by Hypnotic Dreams #BDSM #CrimeNovel.

The Pygmalion Hypnotist

Blurb/Synopsis

Hypnotist, Darren Braid, is getting ready to launch a new line of erotic hypnosis CDs. A potential publicist suggests that he collaborate with her other clients, wannabe film producer Scott Sunderland and his discovery Liza Hill. Her plan calls for Darren to hypnotize Liza and transform her into a dominatrix.

Sunderland will film the transformation and produce a series of BDSM videos.
But shortly after Darren begins hypnotizing the starlet, repressed memories of her childhood abduction begin to surface. Investigating further, he and FBI Agent, Kristen Parker, discover that Liza had been stolen as a child and sold to a ring of pedophiles. While they help Liza deal with her trauma and build her self-esteem, they discover she can identify one of the FBI's most wanted, a sadist who mentors pedophiles in hidden regions of the internet. The FBI has never identified this man offline, but finding him is their only hope of tracing Liza's origin. To find her birth mother, Darren and Kristen must help Liza control her fear and face the man who tortured her as a child.

Excerpt

"Braid!" Kristen Parker pounded on his apartment door. She couldn't hear anything inside, but it was almost 10 pm. He had to be in there. "Braid, I'm not going away. Open this door."

After pounding for several minutes, Kristen finally heard the bolt being drawn. She didn't wait for him to open the door. As soon as it was unlocked, she pushed her way inside.

She caught a glimpse Latoya Douglas standing by the sofa before reeling on the hypnotist. "You should have told me."

"Told you what?"

"Liza. You should have told me she's being abused."

"I didn't see anyone abuse her, did you?"

"No, of course not. But he is, and you know it. Or you wouldn't have told me to watch her. Sunderland has got her so messed up, she afraid to even form an opinion, let alone express one."

"Maybe, but her problems could just as well be the result of past abuse. Unless we see it, or she complains, there's no way to know for sure.

Kristen gaped at him until she remembered that he had been a psychology professor as well as a hypnotist. He might actually know what he was talking about.

Kristen fumed as she turned away. But Latoya's presence brought her up short. The slender black woman wasn't moving. She stood completely still. She wore high heals and a black lace corset, which left her shoulders complete bare. The lace was cut high over her thighs, and dipped low in front of her breasts. Hypnotized and frozen, Latoya was a statue of elegant sensuality.

Kristen had experimented a bit with other women, but always preferred men. She had the sudden feeling that Latoya Douglas could change that. She swallowed hard as she tore her eyes away.

"We have to do something."

"Tell me what happened. First, do you want something to drink?"

Kristen nodded. "Beer, if you have it." She sat down on the sofa and tried to avoid looking at the sexy statue two feet away.

Darren went to the kitchen and came out with an open bottle of beer. Kristen took a large swig then related her experience with the starlet.

"I was afraid of that. Her self-esteem is so badly damaged that she's afraid to make even small decisions. It makes her totally dependent on Sunderland."
"We have to get her out of there."

"If you take her away from him now, she'll become dependent on you. She has to decide to leave. And before she can do that, she has to learn to make decisions and trust them.

"What can we do?"

"Exactly what we are doing. I'm hypnotizing her, and you're being her friend. Together, we encourage her to start eating properly and taking care of her health. Then we encourage her to start observing and thinking analytically. It's important to get her to start exercising her own judgement; and then to start trusting her judgement. Start with other actors, then her own acting, then other aspects of her life.

"Eventually, hopefully, she'll be able to see that she can make her life better by relying on her own judgement."

Kristen eyed Latoya's frozen body. "Like your uh, boy-toy here."

"Believe it or not, Latoya is one of the most confident and capable women I've ever met. Her self confidence lets her enjoy being controlled in the bedroom, and taking control in the boardroom."

Darren got a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Her self confidence even enables us to enjoy an occasional threesome." He was obviously teasing. But seeing this stunning black woman like this, completely vulnerable, completely available, Kristen felt tempted; too tempted.

Buy Links

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http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/388477?ref=cw1985

My Bio

Before writing my first novel, I worked as a technical writer for 17 years. I hold a BS in Engineering and an MS in Technical Communication.
Since 2000, I've been pioneering the art of hyperempiria (creating sensory experience through hypnotic suggestion.)  This is accomplished by integrating hypnotic language patterns, positive affirmations and NLP into the narrative of an audio story. One of my hypnosis programs, The Ultimate Kiss, was nominated for an "O" Award for Outstanding Innovation.
The Pygmalion Hypnotist is my second novel.

Book Spotlight: Stately Pleasures by Lucy Felthouse #BDSM #ménage #m/f/m #RafflecopterGiveaway

Today the Wild Side welcomes author Lucy Felthouse. Enjoy the excerpt from Stately Pleasures and don't forget to enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway at the end of the post. I'm a big fan, and I'm anxious to hear the story behind her new novel, so without further ado, here's Lucy...

An Introduction to Stately Pleasures by Lucy Felthouse

For those of you that don’t know, Stately Pleasures is my debut novel. Well, sort of. I co-authored Grand Slam with Lily Harlem and that was published last August, but this is my first solo novel. I actually wrote it before Lily and I wrote Grand Slam, but the madness that is the publishing world meant that it was published a few months later than the aforementioned book.

It’s a book that had been floating around in the back of my mind for quite some time before I wrote it. Admittedly, it took me a long time to make the jump from short stories to novellas, then from novellas to novels. I suspect fear and confidence had a lot to do with it, but once I started, I really enjoyed the experience. I could explore the backgrounds and motivations of the characters and have a lot more fun with them than I could in shorter work.

Stately Pleasures is set in the fictional Davenport Manor in England. It’s actually an amalgamation of various different stately homes and gardens that I’ve been to, with tweaks and things made to suit my story. A bonus of writing fiction!

The lead character, Alice Brown, is a curvy chick with a very firm goal – she wants to manage a stately home. It’s been her goal all of her life and she’s worked hard to achieve it. In this book, she gets one step closer—by bagging an interview for a maternity contract at Davenport Manor. Once she’s had nine months experience at the job, she should be able to then make the move somewhere else on a permanent basis.

It’s not a spoiler to tell you that Alice gets the job, and she’s delighted. She jumps into the role with enthusiasm, but things aren’t all plain sailing—it wouldn’t be a very long book if they were, would it? ;) Alice accidentally catches her boss, Jeremy Davenport, in a compromising position, and from there, things go totally crazy. It turns out the man she previously thought of as posh totty is actually a man with many kinks, and he’s not against using his position to get what he wants.
I’m not going to say any more, lest I do give away any spoilers, but let’s just say that Stately Pleasures is a BDSM ménage erotic romance and leave it at that. I really did have lots of fun writing this book, and hope that people will enjoy reading it.

Follow the blog tour to find out more about my inspiration for setting, characters and much more: http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/lucy-felthouse-5/

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Blurb:

Alice Brown has just landed her dream job. Property manager at Davenport Manor, a British stately home. It’s only a nine-month contract to cover maternity leave, but it’s the boost up the career ladder she so desperately needs.

Unfortunately, things don’t get off to the best start, when Alice finds her boss, Jeremy Davenport, in a compromising position. Far from being embarrassed by what’s happened, Jeremy turns things around on Alice and makes her out to be the one in the wrong. So when he and his best friend and head of security, Ethan Hayes, then throw an ultimatum at her, she’s so stunned and confused that she goes along with their indecent proposal.

When the dust settles and Alice has time to think about things, though, she realises that perhaps it isn’t such a bad thing. There are worse things she could be doing to advance her career, after all.

Buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/stately-pleasures/
Add to Goodreads here: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18756618-stately-pleasures

*****

Excerpt:

Alice took a deep breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth. Repeated the process once more. Then, realising she could sit there all day doing it and not feel any calmer, she forced herself to step out of the car and close and lock the door.

She bent to peer into the wing mirror of the vehicle and checked her hair and make-up. Satisfied, she straightened, then turned on her heel and walked quickly across the driveway to the great house before her nerve failed her.

Davenport Manor was currently open for visitors, so she walked in through the front door and was met by a smiling elderly lady.

‘Can I help you?’ the woman asked kindly.

‘Yes, please.’ Alice twisted her hands together nervously. ‘I’m here to see Mr Davenport. I’m here for an interview for the property manager’s role.’

‘Yes, of course,’ the woman replied, ‘that’s today, isn’t it? Follow me; I’ll take you to Mr Davenport’s office. But just hang on one second.’

She ducked through the doorway into the next room and spoke with her colleague. Alice guessed she was letting her co-worker know she’d be gone for a few minutes. A few seconds later, she was back. ‘OK, follow me, Miss …’

‘Brown,’ Alice said, then fell in behind the other woman as she led her to Mr Davenport’s office, and the interview that could change her life for ever. It was hardly surprising that she was shaking like a leaf.

Alice quickly felt lost as their journey took several twists and turns along dim corridors – their blinds drawn to protect paintings, tapestries, and furniture from the sunlight – and up a flight of stairs. She had a few seconds to worry about finding her way if she was lucky enough to get the job, then, suddenly, her guide stopped outside a door and turned around.

‘Here you go, Miss Brown. Mr Davenport’s office. Good luck with your interview.’

Alice smiled and thanked the elderly woman, then smoothed down her skirt, which also conveniently helped wipe the nervous sweat off her hands. She stood up straight, gave herself a mental pep talk about being more than qualified for the role, and knocked on the door.

‘Enter.’

Alice knew that voice could only belong to Jeremy Davenport. The posh accent, and the fact he’d said “enter” instead of “come in”, screamed money and an upper-class upbringing. Alice was suddenly nervous of her broad Midlands accent and lowly background, despite the fact she’d worked her backside off to get into a decent university in order to gain a Bachelor of Arts degree and then a Master’s degree. No matter what she sounded like, or what her past was, she had all the skills necessary to do the job she was about to be interviewed for.

Suddenly, she realised that she’d left rather a long pause before opening the door, and she turned the handle before the occupants of the room thought they were about to interview some kind of simpleton who couldn’t follow a simple instruction.

Fixing a polite – but hopefully not inane – smile onto her face, Alice stepped into Jeremy Davenport’s office. Her first thought – which certainly did nothing to help her nerves – was good God, he’s hot.

Jeremy sat behind a desk, with a heavily pregnant woman sitting beside it. Alice barely noticed the woman. All she saw was him. A man with cropped dark brown hair, hazel/green eyes, a jawline you could cut bread with, and lips that looked capable of doing incredibly wicked, sexual things to a woman. Or a man. Alice had no idea what his sexuality was, but she found herself hoping he liked women.

She chastised herself. Even if he did like women, he wouldn’t go for someone like her. A Plain Jane, with mousy brown shoulder-length hair, blue eyes, average height and above average weight. Alice had always known she’d never be a supermodel, so she’d worked extra hard academically, and here she was. About to be interviewed for her dream job.

*****

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over eighty publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women's Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

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