Wednesday, 26 November 2014

#MWTease from Bought for Christmas #comingsoon @evernightpub #bdsm #shifter


Welcome to the tease, brought to you by the lovely Sandra Bunino, where we tease you from either a published work or a work in progress.

There is only one story I can tease from today, and that's Bought for Christmas. You might have heard me squeal this week, when I got my release date. My scarred bear shifter will be yours to own come December 8th.

I can't wait for you to meet Hunter and Emilia. What's more their story is an Editor's pick.

*big grin*

So, without further ado, here is a HOT tease. You have been warned. Hunter has a unique way of distracting Emilia from answering questions he is not ready for...

Emilia would never have believed it, had she not seen it with her own eyes. One minute a very naked, very aroused Hunter towered over her, the next he had dropped to his knees and changed into a big brown bear.
His scars weren’t as pronounced in his animal form, but they were there nonetheless. Not that it took away from the majestic beauty that was Hunter in his bear form. His intelligent golden eyes looked at her, and he trotted closer. His wet nose nudged her arm, and taking a deep breath she put both of her hands in his fur. It was the exact same shade as his hair in human form, and she stroked him. Wonderfully soft and warm under her digits, he was the equivalent of a real life teddy bear, and Emilia giggled at the thought.
His bear rumbled in answer and nudged her again.
“You’re beautiful, Sir.”
She whispered the words, and then the massive bear stepped back. The air shimmered around him, and seconds later Hunter was back in his human form. He didn’t look at her when he yanked his jeans back on. He didn’t manage to button them back up again over the enormous erection he still sported, and he sat down gingerly, and stretched his long legs out in front of him.
“So, now you know,” he said, and Emilia nodded.
“Now I know. Thank you for trusting me enough to show me.”
Hunter groaned and ran a hand through his dark hair. It made it all stick up on end, and Emilia gave into the need to be close to him and straddling him, sat down on his lap. She dropped a kiss on the raised skin on his shoulder, and then reached up to tidy his hair.
“How did you get the scars, Sir?”
Hunter shook his head and tugged her shirt up until her breasts were exposed. Her nipples beaded in the chilly air, and he chuckled and ran his knuckles across them while pulling his legs up. The action tipped her forward slightly, and in the next moment he had the shirt pulled off her entirely and twisted around her wrists at her back in makeshift restraints. As soft as it was on her wrists, Emilia couldn’t move, and she gasped when he unsheathed one of his claws, and ran it along her jaw line. Her eyes widened when he ran it over her throat, and she swallowed nervously as he trailed it down towards her breasts. Once there he increased the pressure, and allowed more of his claws to emerge. Tiny pinpricks of painful sensation they dug into her breast tissue as he molded it between it his fingers, and then bent to suckle first one and the other into his mouth.
“You, sweet kitten, ask too many questions, but I do you a deal. Every time you ask me something else, you owe me an orgasm. How does that sound?”
 He pushed her breasts together so that he could lave both her nipples at the same time, and Emilia tightened her thigh muscles to rub herself against his heavy erection.
“Oh no, you don’t. Up you come. We’re doing this on my terms.”
Guiding her by her bound wrists he took her over to the long dividing counter and pushed her down with a hand on the small of her back, while he lifted her feet off the floor and pulled her ass back into his groin.
“Hmm, yes perfect. Put your feet in those.”
Completely helpless and at his mercy, Emilia had no choice but do as she was told, and a shiver went through her when he yanked her jeans down to mid-thigh and then guided her feet into some form of foothold.  Soft leather went round her ankles, and she found herself slip deeper into her submissive headspace as her movements were restricted.
Hunter slapped her ass lightly, and she groaned as heat flared anew and moisture seeped from her pussy.
“Beautiful. Your ass is lovely and red, and you can’t move. Now, shall we start our little game? What did you want to ask me, kitten?”
Did she want to? Emilia struggled to get her brain to work, especially when he swatted her ass again and then moved away.
“Now don’t you go anywhere.” His laugh could only be described as pure evil. “I’ll need to get a little something from my toy box. I’ll be back before you can miss me.”
Oh, God, what now?
True to his word Hunter was back before she managed to draw more than three shuddering breaths into her lungs. He reached across her to plug something into the electrical socket, and every muscle in her body tensed when she heard the loud vibrations kick on.
Hunter ran the thick head of the Hitachi slowly down her spine, avoiding her bound wrists, and Emilia jumped as far as her restraints would allow when he guided the vibrator across her stinging ass cheeks.
“I believe you were going to ask me a question, kitten? What was it again?”
He trailed the torture object lower, and lower still holding it just over her labia, and Emilia groaned. Already the wicked vibrations travelled through her and made her pussy clench in desperate need.
“Nothing, not a thing. I don’t want to know anything if you’re going to use that thing on me ... oh God, noooooo.”
Hunter laughed and held the head right over her clit.
“Wrong answer, kitten. For that I demand three orgasms from you, right now.”
Emilia wailed and bucked, but it was useless. There was no hiding from the relentless vibrations that pushed her headlong into an orgasm so forceful she saw stars.




I’m the beast, haven’t you heard….

Christmas is supposed to be a time for miracles and one will surely be needed when Emilia Duncan finds herself sold to the beast to save her father’s company. Having lusted after the much older, enigmatic man for as long as she can remember, spending the Christmas weekend as his submissive will satisfy her raging libido, but can she protect her heart?

Bear Shifter Hunter Monahan cannot stand idly by when Emilia is thrown to the wolves. There is only one shifter who will get his claws into her and that’s him. The contract ensures her submission for the weekend. Too bad his bear wants much more than that.

Hunter is used to hiding behind his gruesome scars, but in the bid for Emilia’s heart, that is not an option this time.  Isolated in his cabin, it’s not just the snow that melts.

Releases December 8th

****

Stay naughty, folks, and don't forget to check out the other teasers. As ever thanks to the awesome Sandra Bunino for putting us all together every week.

Why not join us next week? You can sign up on Sandra's blog HERE.

D xx


Tuesday, 25 November 2014

#TantalizingTuesdays - Freshly Brewed

Happy Tuesday, folks. It took me ages to find a picture that spoke to me this week, but I got there in the end. Enjoy, I hope :-)



(Source: Pinterest
http://www.pinterest.com/pin/278519558176341129/)


“Damn it, where is that woman?” Granger mumbled under his breath, as he pushed open the door to the office. His useless secretary was nowhere to be seen, and he needed his morning coffee to bloody well function.
Judging by the absence of any of the woman’s primping attire that usually cluttered her desk, she wasn’t in yet. Granger pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath in. He’d come here straight from the fucking airport on the CEO’s orders and the blasted woman didn’t even have the decency to be here to greet him.
Damn his boss and his tendency to off load his fuck buddies around the office. The last one had at least been half way competent at her job, but this latest one…
If only he had the authority to put that woman over his knee and give her the paddling she deserved, and by God he would make sure it was punishment, not pleasure.
He entered his own office with a grim smile, and stopped dead at the wonderful aroma of freshly brewed coffee. His wife sat in the chair behind his desk and smiled.

“Smile, I brought you your coffee, Sir.”



Tantalizing Tuesday Authors use a photo prompt to tease in 200 words. Please click on the graphic to check out the other fabulous participating authors.


As ever, let me know what you thought of my teaser today. 


D xx 

Monday, 24 November 2014

Fated #newrelease by Allyson Young #eroticwestern @evernightpub

Happy Monday, folks. As ever I have the perfect antidote to those Monday blues right here. We all love cowboys, right? Allyson Young is here to tell us about her new release, the erotic Western, Fated.

****



Reece Murdoch is back in Barrister, Wyoming after his military tour. Ostensibly returning to take the position of Sheriff, he plans to confront the woman of his dreams. After what they’d shared, he’d foolishly believed Candace Grant would wait, but all his heartfelt letters were met with silence. And now she is avoiding him and freezing him out.

Candy Grant is never going to allow Sheriff Murdoch a civil conversation, let alone a discussion. Oh, he’s interested—probably thinking he can waltz right back into her life. Except he’d gutted her, leaving six years earlier without warning and only eight scribbled words. She’s since lived a fast, shallow existence she’s determined to continue, and never get hurt again.


Reece needs a plan, one to address Candy’s propensity to speed while asserting his lawful authority—with handcuffs and a night of house arrest. Will the truth set them free?

Excerpt:

Reese Murdoch slouched comfortably against the broken-in seat of the county’s second best cruiser, gripping the wheel with one big hand.
He found himself sighing. Barrister wasn’t a bad place. Born and raised there, he knew pretty much all the inhabitants. Being elected as Sheriff had been a no brainer, being a military man home from Iraq and all, presumably well versed in weapons and leadership. Both true, except he was hampered by a paltry budget, and the people he’d sworn to serve and protect were scattered over a huge part of the state. Good thing the work wasn’t onerous.
No doubt that would change over time, people being what they were, but he was bored for the most part. The one thing—person—who could easily obliterate that boredom didn’t deign to recognize either his existence or his authority, and he hadn’t decided which plan to pursue in that regard. It’d been months, but if he’d learned anything in the military, it was that an offensive had a better chance of succeeding if one gathered solid intelligence and formulated a careful plan of attack. He wryly admitted he’d come home because of Candace Grant, if only to determine why she’d ignored all of his efforts to get in touch with her over the years. Some might call it closure. He just plain wanted her, and knew enough about women to know that while her demeanor said one thing, something else was operating behind that icy exterior.
  In the meantime, there was the odd drunk and disorderly to deal with, complaints about cattle rustling to investigate, a few domestics—and didn’t he hate those—and some traffic violations.
The road dipped to accommodate an arroyo, and he rose up out of it to crest the slight hill. And speaking of traffic violations, the unmistakable silver Bimmer hammering in his direction, trailing a dusty rooster trail, caused him to grind his teeth and war with his responding arousal. Damn her. She was going to kill herself one day in that stupid car, maybe before he put the final touches on his plan. Flipping on his lights, he considered his strategy, noting the way the smaller vehicle’s hood dipped in response to the application of brakes. She’d been flying along.
She pulled the Bimmer over, and he drifted on by to pull a three point turn and come up behind her. Candace hadn’t made eye contact at all, staring straight ahead through the windshield, and he figured she had to know it was him. She didn’t cut his deputies dead. He took his time, watching Candace’s profile in the side mirror, willing his professionalism to the fore when all he really wanted to do was drag her back to the cruiser, handcuffed, and take her home. Someplace safe—and easily accessible for both their pleasure. The plan suddenly came together.
Approaching the open window, he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “You were hitting seventy, Candace. We’ve had this discussion before.”
She didn’t reply, instead thrusting her paperwork toward him. Her picture on the license didn’t fit with the stony visage looking dead ahead. Despite the customary, don’t smile, hair tucked behind your ears, dictates of the DMV, Candace’s full mouth, with its eminently bitable bottom lip somehow quirked up at the corners, and there was no mistaking the sparkle in those baby blues. Just as he remembered her—full of life and joy, bubbly, vivacious, and all those adjectives people applied to her. But then, he’d admit he’d hardly given her anything to smile about, primarily because she wouldn’t give him the time of day. That was gonna change.
Tugging the license and registration from her stiff fingers, he decided to play her game. “Step out of the vehicle, Miss Grant.”
That garnered him a wary look, a quick glance that she instantly modified into boredom. He didn’t miss the way she flickered her eyes to her watch. Was she meeting someone? On her way to a hot date? Sheridan lay in that direction, and whatever Candace got up to, she didn’t do it in Barrister. The rumors he’d overheard flourished. Reece had access to a different form of contacts and knew the truth of some of those rumors. He wasn’t surprised about Candace’s interests, merely disappointed he hadn’t been able to guide her and take the journey with her. But he’d done what he had to back then. That she hadn’t accepted his explanation and apology, wouldn’t even give him the opportunity to discuss it further, grated him raw.
He opened her door and stood back, breaking procedure, instantly grateful for the way the door frame concealed his sudden erection, his cock saluting the vision emerging from the Bimmer without any regard for his bigger brain. The top she wore hardly covered her attributes, cried out for him to touch the silky fabric and tug on those discreetly concealed laces. The length of shapely leg revealed by the short skirt flirting around her thighs forced his hands to grip the metal until he thought it might groan beneath his grasp.
Once again his woman was on the prowl, and he was damned if he’d let her take what she was offering up to Sheridan or any other place loaded with men who couldn’t possibly appreciate her the way he planned. Disappointment again soured him, and he impatiently shoved it aside. He’d waited long enough.
“What?” A hint of nervousness whispered through the aloof question.
“This is the third time, Miss Grant. I assume you recall the consequences are for persistent speeding.”
Narrowing, blue eyes locked with his, then a flush of pink colored her décolletage and rose up the long, lovely column of her throat to paint her cheeks. She spoke between set lips, criminally thinning that lush bounty, another crime she’d pay for in the end.
“Give me the ticket, Sheriff. I’ll pay it like I did the others. Help out with your salary.”
 “Step out and assume the position.”

Available from Evernight Publishing


About the author:


Allyson Young lives in cottage country in Manitoba, Canada with her husband of many years and numerous pets. She worked in the human services all across Canada and has seen the best and worst of what people bring to the table. Allyson has written for years, mostly short stories and poetry, published in small newspapers and the like, although her work appeared in her high school yearbooks too! After reading an erotic romance, quite by accident, she decided to try her hand at penning erotica.

Allyson will write until whatever she has inside her is satisfied- when all the heroes man up and all the heroines get what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and Allyson favours the dark side of romance.


WEBSITE

Sunday, 23 November 2014

#SexySnippets from Auctioned to the Spanish Dom “Dulces sueños, pequeña.” #aftercare #newrelease @sirenbookstrand #bdsm #mfm



Happy Sunday, folks. It's time to bring you some sexy snippets, and I thought I would show you Pedro's tender side. Aftercare is an important element after any scene, but especially so after one as intense as Pedro and Peyton had at the club. This Master sadist was hard on her and Peyton's butt is rather tender. In fact she'll have some spectacular bruises, and Pedro is doing his best to minimize her discomfort.
Having brought her back to her flat, he's already run her a bath and fed her, and now he's giving her a massage, as any good sadist would...

*winks*


He ran his hands along that part of her ass and squeezed the tender flesh. Heat shot through her veins and her pussy clenched, and she bucked into his hands.
Hija de mi vida, you’re so fucking responsive, pequeñita.”

Peyton’s stomach tightened in excitement at the strained quality of his voice and all thoughts of bruises flew out of her head, as she gave herself up to his whispered words in Spanish and the magic his hands worked on her body. By the time he was finished, a sense of peace had settled over her, as her tired muscles relaxed, and she found herself drifting away again. Pedro lifted the hair off her neck and kissed her just under her ear. The action made her smile, and the last thing she heard before exhaustion finally claimed her were his whispered, “Dulces sueños, pequeña.”



Peyton King had a simple plan. Sign up for the Spectrum Auctions and finally get the story that will get her the promotion she craves.

It’s just her luck that the person who wins her is Pedro Hernandez. The Spanish Dom has been starring in her erotic dreams ever since they first butted heads in her professional life, and he proves impossible to resist, if downright scary.

The sadist in Pedro is looking forward to teaching the prickly reporter a lesson or two. However, when Peyton turns out to be a masochist her instinctive responses floor the experienced Dom. Maybe it’s just his age catching up with him, but this young reporter gets under his skin like no other sub ever has, and their play smashes through both of their emotional defences in record time.

When their relationship is put to the test, Pedro has to decide if he can trust his pequeñita.

She is a reporter after all…


Available at Bookstrand

****

Do check out the other Authors participating today, and why not join us next week? Sexy Snippets are seven sexy sentences taken from a work in progress or published work.




Saturday, 22 November 2014

Interview with a Dom @RavenMcAllan #newrelease Secrets Remembered @Totally_Bound #Diomhair #bdsm

Happy Saturday, folks. The awesome Raven McAllan is on my blog and she's interviewing her latest hero from her fantastic series Diomhair. Aiden's story is told in book three, Secrets Remembered, and shhhh, don't tell her, but he might just be my favourite of them all so far. She always gets the nicest jobs, I tell you. Well, I would have been far too tongue tied to interview him myself.

So, without further ado.... here they are.

****


I love coming to chat to Doris. Usually, I try to get one of my characters to interview her, but this time she got me. She said no grandson cuddles if I didn't do it myself.
Sigh
Here we go then.

(Yep, I'm mean like that. *sniggers*)



Who would have thought a white van could play such a big part in bringing people together?
Ailsa and Aiden didn't have a clue.
I've persuaded Aiden to talk to me, and explain a little bit about the mystery. Or should I say, Alisa persuaded him. I just got all shivery when he looked at me in 'that way' and resisted the urge to let him take over. He has such a way with him, you know?
R: So, Aidan what did you think when you first saw Ailsa?
A: Why isn't she on her knees.
(The expression wicked evil grin could have been formed just for him. It's in the eyes, and the way his lips curl up so very sexily and…oh my, he's giving me 'that look'.)
R: Ah, right. And then?"
A: How did she get here. Then, before you ask, I was glad she was there, and I plotted how to get her on her knees.
R: Was it easy?
A: Narrows his eyes. No, but nothing in this life that’s worth having is easy. It has to be Ailsa's decision. I wasn't going to affect it in any way. Grin. Well, not except by showing her what we could have.
R: And?
A: Well you know, you wrote our story for us. For anyone else. Shrug. They'll need to read Secrets Remembered to find out.
I got the impression that a clam is easier to prise open than Aidan. But in the interests of this blog, I'm nothing if not persistent.
R: And the white van?
A: Is white. And annoying. Pause We really don’t know what it's all about. (He does that all out Dom look again. I tell you my knees are shaking.)
A: And dear Raven, if you do discover what it's all about before us, or think you do, you will tell us, won't you.
R: Oh yes.
A: Good. Then are you busy? Do you want to come and play?
R: What do you think…Sir.
 *****


Here's the series blurb…
Secret. What's happens there stays there.
It doesn't matter whether you want to learn or teach, be in control or controlled, Diomhair could be the place for you.
The ruined castle deep in the Scottish countryside had been rebuilt into an exclusive, private, BDSM club, where people could learn about and enjoy the lifestyle.
Not everyone approved, and not everyone appreciated it, but for those who did and fit the criteria, it was somewhere to go and be themselves, relax and play.
And if you found love there, your own perfect match, well that could only be a bonus.
For isn't the secret to true love the biggest secret of all?



*****
And the book blurb…
What comes first your happiness or your job?
Ailsa McLagan is sent undercover to investigate possible shady dealings at the private BDSM Club Diomhair. The last thing she expects is to be confronted by one of the Masters there. Not only does he make her want her to sink to her knees, but he seems to see straight through her disguise, too.
Aidan is instantly attracted to the clueless Sub he stumbles upon. Even though he knows she is hiding her true identity he can't help but push her to discover her limits, and introduce her to the delights of subbing to him.
Scared by the intensity if her reaction, Ailsa runs and all seems lost.
When the truth is revealed, can they work towards a true Dom/sub relationship, even though theirs started on a lie?
*****
And of course, a wee tease…

Ailsa couldn't take her eyes off the tiny teardrop shaped orb of molten wax as it fell towards her. It was all well and good being told to regulate your breathing, absorb the pain and breathe through it, but it didn't help at all when you had no idea what it all meant. Why hadn't she fessed up and said she wasn't the sub?
Because that would have dropped her even deeper in the mire and he night have been the one to say red.
The wax hit her chest and she gasped, made a noise between a sob and a scream and stifled the swear words that came to mind. The sting wasn't a sting. It was pain. Red hot radiating pain that filled her, and made her breath come in short sharp pants, and caused her to pull at her restraints.
Her tongue felt like cotton wool, which filled her mouth and made it dry and unusable. It was hard to clamp down on the panic she felt. How could she shout red when her voice wouldn't work? Even the fact Aidan was staring at her intently didn't help. He said he could read her, dammit, so why wasn't he stopping?
It was like something out of a horror film as the next drop of wax, and the next got closer and closer to her body, and hit.
Onto the swell of her breasts, one by one and close to each other. The sting struck, the pain began…Ailsa coughed. "Ahhh, ohh r…" she stopped speaking. The pain was different. Oh it stung but the sting was like someone was trailing their finger over her skin, creating tiny pulses of pleasure.
Aidan straightened the candle up so the wax gathered in the shallow dip by the wick.
"Colour?" His voice wasn't steady and that tiny hint of vulnerability resonated with Ailsa.
"Green, oh my, argh." She was babbling but didn't give a damn. "More please. Take my top off." She knew without a shadow of a doubt she wanted to see what he would achieve without having to try and miss the strip of cloth that covered her breasts. "Really, Sir, green. I want to feel it all. You were right, the pain isn't an ouchie pain, it's an 'I want to feel more' pain. Green."
Would he do as she wanted? How on earth could he, without untying her and spoiling the moment?
Three seconds later, Ailsa realised she shouldn't have worried. After all he was a Dom and probably used to subs changing their minds like they changed their knickers. Aidan nodded, put the candle down in a safety holder on the table, and lifted a wicked looking knife from the table. The blade was a good nine inches long, with a serrated edge and a sharp point and the handle was thick and indented for fingers and thumbs, to enable the user to clasp it safely.
It was one thing to tell yourself that he would be more than competent when he used it, another not to find your heart beating faster when the tip slid almost lazily across your skin and the point lifted the wax that clung there. Aidan flicked the cold pieces away like he was brushing crumbs from a tablecloth. Then he slid the blade of the knife under her top between her breasts and pushed upward. The material parted as if it was held together by a thread, not a tight knit weave, and slid over her sensitive breasts and nipples to allow cool air to caress them like a lover's kiss. Aidan smiled and rested the cold flat of the blade over her heart and moved it carefully over her skin.
"One day, I'll scribe you." He said the words so quietly that Ailsa thought he was talking to himself. "Ready to be decorated, pet?"
No more mention of scribing? Ailsa wasn't sure whether to be pleased or disappointed. Mind you her idea as to what it meant was somewhat hazy. Scratches that didn't last? She made a mental note to research it. Hold on woman, learn to accept and like one thing at once. Walk, don't run. Aidan cleared his throat, and Ailsa realised she hadn't answered him.
 "Oh, yes, Sir." She regulated her breathing, a lot happier now she knew what to expect, and relaxed into the hard mattress as best as she could. How she wished her head was raised a little so she could see better.
Was he a mind reader? Aidan replaced the knife in its cover and bent to reach under the bed. With a whirring noise, the top third tilted a little, just enough for Ailsa to be able to look down her body. Then he stood back, picked up two candles and held one in each hand.
He didn't speak again, but began to rotate and move his hands. It was mesmeric to watch as he twisted and turned them and wax slid and slipped down the length of their candles. Tiny granules formed and twisted and almost shimmered as they spiralled downward towards her skin.
When the first one hit, Ailsa stopped thinking and let her senses fill her instead. The sting, the tug on her heart, the way her inner muscles tightened and her pussy throbbed all morphed into one hazy, arousal filled sensation of pleasure.
With each new arc of wax, somewhere else began to sting and sing.  Aidan knew what he was doing, and created a web of wax to decorate her skin. Nothing formal but a beautiful intricate design that any abstract artist would be proud of. Something as good as an old master by a new one. That thought would have made her snigger except she didn't want to miss one second of what was happening.
Then, suddenly it was over. Aidan put down the candles, untied her and wrapped the blanket Ross had handed him around her, without removing the wax.
Ailsa began to shake, and burst into tears. He cuddled her close and stroked her hair.
"Shhh, let it out, it's normal and natural. There, there." He held her close and whispered nonsensical words until she quieted.
Ailsa sniffed and looked around. "Can I have a tissue please?"
Connie handed her one and she whispered her thanks. Her voice didn't seem to belong to her. None of her did. It was strange and disquieting.
She wondered what happened next. After all she was still coated in wax, half naked, and in a room with virtual strangers. For the first time she saw the sense in having more than one person around. As long as they weren't all axe murderers.
*****
I hope that got you a wee bit hot and bothered…
(I'm now off for grandson cuddles)

Happy reading,

Love R x

Oops forgot the buy link…


and you can stalk me here



Friday, 21 November 2014

Flash Fiction Friday - Surprise #FFF

Happy Friday, folks. Here's today's flash.


Feet pounding the sand in tune to the music in her ears, head down, Diana almost collided with the statue that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. She managed to side step it at the last minute, and she shrieked when the statue moved.
The man raised his head and smiled at her, and Diana’s world shifted on its axis. It couldn’t be. He was dead and buried, wasn’t he… and were those wings?  Gabe spread his feathers, and held out his hand.
“What the fu—“

She swallowed her curse. One simply didn’t swear in front of an angel.

****

Friday Flashers have 100 words to tell a story from the provided picture prompt. Do check out the other flashers. You won't be disappointed. :-)

Till next week, folks.
D x

Thursday, 20 November 2014

#ReleaseBlitz Hardened Desire @LaynaPimentel #pnr @cw1985

Hmm, Gargoyles and humans, now doesn't that sound intriguing? Check out Layna Pimentel's new release, as she stops by on her Release Blitz.





BLURB
What could Luc Mercier, a gargoyle who's more than a century old, possibly have in common with modern introvert, Gillian Harris? Loneliness and isolation.
When meddlesome friends bring the two together, neither is prepared for the flurry of emotions nor revelations that overwhelm them. That is, until Gillian stumbles across the truth and struggles with how she let her guard down.
Learning to love again has never been harder.


EXCERPT

Luc picked up a newspaper from the stand and tossed a two-dollar coin to the elderly man working the counter. He ascended the cavernous stairs of Bloor and Dufferin subway station, irritated by the lights flickering intensely. I should have just taken my car.

But if he did, Luc would have missed an opportunity to observe society other than from the café he frequented lately. A society he didn’t belong in, technically speaking, and had no business being a part of. Long gone were the muddy, off-beaten roads of provincial France. Long gone was the time when an over-flowing bodice was considered scandalous.

Now people thrived on exposing as much skin as possible. The modern day sentiment of what was attractive and acceptable embarrassed him to the core, from the mode of dress to the inappropriate use of language. Didn’t anyone know how to speak without using an expletive every other word? Where had humanity gone wrong? It was ghastly enough that children didn’t respect their elders, much less their parents.

Nevertheless, as much as this modern world perplexed him, nothing could deter him from at least enjoying his freedom, regardless of the limitations restricting his activities to the darkness of the night.

He did, however, miss the ambiance of candle light and the soft cries while seducing a woman, tormenting her with his wicked tongue. Exploring deviant, but heavenly, practices of binding and mixing pleasure with pain. Sweet promises falling from his lips while exploring every inch of her delicate and exquisite flesh.

These days, the few women he was able to enjoy weren’t interested in highly sensual liaisons. No. Today’s women thrived on being in control of seduction, whether they were proficient or not. There certainly wasn’t anything wrong with the scenario, but it wasn’t his taste. He preferred his women soft, like Genevieve…his sweet, sweet Genevieve.

No matter how many decades passed, the only woman he’d ever confided in, and planned to wed, crept into his mind many a time. Genevieve was an old soul, who found him and fell in love. Then, much like a Greek tragedy, their story ended woefully. The trust and courage it had taken to confess to Genevieve of the monstrosity he had become left him restless and, for once in his miserable existence, vulnerable. If not for her kindness, encouragement, and love, who knew what he would be doing and where.

This last week, though, he thought to explore the possibility of trying again. A particular woman, who frequented the café where he spent his early evenings drinking a brandy and reading The Daily Sun, had caught his particular interest. Her laughter aroused his curiosity in the few and far between moments when he contemplated actually living life. Her voice, whether chuckling or whispering to her friend, always made his body react in an animalistic way.

While they had never met, she seemed like someone he’d be interested in getting to know, at the very least, for a little while. Luc doubted very much he’d find another woman like the love of his life and often thought it would be better that way. How could he even begin to explain why he only ever spent time with her at night, and why he’d always be gone before the first sign of daybreak?

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BIOGRAPHY
Born and raised in Toronto, Ontario, Layna discovered her love of reading at an early age. When she isn’t devouring salacious romance novels or writing, she enjoys losing herself in researching ancient history and mythology, weaponry, and hiking. She lives in Northern Ontario, with her husband and two daughters.
Layna is a member of the Romance Writers of America, and is a monthly contributor at 69 Shades of Smut. For updates on her upcoming releases, or to leave her a comment, you can find at: