You're in for such a treat with this series and as for that cover....
Take it away oh great one ;-)
Seven stages of chills.
Now makes sure you’ve got it right. I'm not talking monsters in the cupboard of shiver down the spine (unless you get a thrill from that) I'm talking about the ohhh my chill of nice—no scrub nice—fantastic anticipation I get with each stage of a book as its grows forth and multiplies.
First there's that germ of an idea. Somehow this little seed gets planted…wash your mouth out—not that kind of seed in there! This seed is a hint of an idea that somehow embedded in my brain. I usually have no idea where it came from, who procreated it or why. But it's there all right, biding its time. Oh I know its there and often I just try to ignore it. There's other things to do first.
Ha, yeah …right? Wrong.
That pesky idea refuses to be silenced. It nags, wriggles, shouts and bangs at your skull until you accept those chills it pulses through you.
Now we come to the second stage.
You have to write the story. So you get yourself a rough plot and off you go. Er no, wrong again. Not in my case it isn't. I have to accept the story is character dictated and go with the flow. This is where the chills multiply and I loooose contr-ol. (Are you singing along with me here?) This chill session can last a while and go through various stages until…
Chill three arrives.
I type the end and heave a sigh. Then after re-reading until the type dances in front of my eyes. I then goes of to my lovely Reditor. I bite my nails…
Chill four is when I get it back and my fingers twitch over the open button. Dare I? The usual Skype message of just get on with woman has me reading. And usually ever thankful it's not as bad as I feared, and after more editing I press the send button on my submission.
Which leads on to chill five… The day I see I have a reply. Now this is mega shivers time. Not just tingles and chills but spiders in the tummy ants on the skin time.
Hopefully it’s a YES, and after several rounds of edits I get to indulge in chill six…
Cover reveal. Oh now this is earthquake tremor chills. My story, hinted at in glorious Technicolor, and oh my, my name for everyone to see.
So we get to chill seven.
This is a two part-er. The emails letting me know the release date, and then Yee Haa the actual date.
All singing, all dancing scrape me down from the ceiling chills.
Now all I need to do is hope someone buys it…
Will You Dance Miss Laurence?
Dancing lessons were supposed to be fun, but who ever heard of attending them without your knickers on?
Shibari Master Ryan is intrigued by Ava, so when his cousin asks a favor, he is only too happy to help Ava out of the rut she says she is in.
Will her past allow her to enjoy his bondage, or will true submission prove a step too much?
…"forgive me if I'm somewhat underwhelmed about what you suggest. Yes, my pussy is eager, but sadly my mind keeps overruling it."
She turned round and walked to the mat, knelt down and stretched on her tummy. It was thicker and softer than it looked and both supported and cocooned her.
Let's get it over and done with, let me see it's so not for me and I can go home."
"Are you sure?" Ryan had approached her and she hadn't heard him. "We don't have to."
"We do, Sir. I need to exchange my nightmares for my enjoyment. Or at least sort out which is which. So it's orange, proceed with caution I reckon. Is that mauve do you think?"
A tap to her left butt cheek made her giggle. It tickled. The spank on the right hand side was sharper, harder and stung, but in a good way. Ava felt the tingle that ran through her like a clarion of jubilant bells. It was good. A touch of eroticism, a hint of deep desire, and her body sang. Maybe this was it. The start of a new set of ideas for pleasure.
The third spank had her arching upward, whether into or away from his touch she couldn't be sure.
"Color, Ava?" Did his voice sound strained? She had no idea because she was beginning to float.
"Ava." A sharp tap made her jump. "Color or I stop."
"Green and get on with it ... Sir."
The tattoo of taps alternating in time and depth, made her body sing. She craved more, something indefinable that hovered out of reach.
"Sassy, I warned you. Roll over."
Her mind was foggy, but Ava did as he asked. The feel of the mat on her tender bum made her wince. Of course, he noticed.
"A wee bit, Sir, but in a sort of nice way."
He nodded and took the thong from his hair. "So be it, as long as you remember your safe word and use it we'll carry on. Later I'll sooth you. But if you're okay...?"
"Yes Sir. I'm fine." And she was, Ava realized. She felt more alive than ever.
"Good girl. Sit up."
Dammit I wish he'd make his mind up, I'm getting dizzy with all this up down over round stuff.
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