Friday, 31 October 2014

An Interview with Cupid from Arcanus Amator @ElyzabethVaLey #newrelease @evernightpub #ROTG

Oh, do I have a treat for you today. If you're wondering why there is no Friday Flash today... well, please forgive me, but I'm just not up to doing one this week. Normal service will resume next week, I promise. Instead I have Cupid on my blog. Oh yes, you heard right. The awesome Elyzabeth has interviewed him for us.

Let's see what the God of Love has to say, shall we?


Hi everyone! I’m thrilled to be here today with none other than the God of Love, Cupid!
*Cupid tilts his head in acknowledgment, his locks gleaming under the sunlight like sparks of gold beneath a river bed. He smiles at me from the other side of the garden table.*
Cupid: I am pleased to be here and thankful to you for retelling my child’s story. There are some valuable lessons in Arcanus Amator.
Elyzabeth: For instance?
Cupid: Not all that glitters is gold. There is light in darkness. We can be blind to that which lies in front of us.
*He bursts out laughing. His blue eyes twinkle.*
Cupid: I recommend readers pick up the book and discover them themselves.
Elyzabeth: Of course, but I would interview you if that’s all right.
Cupid: Certainly.
Elyzabeth: Can you tell us how it is to be in charge of the world’s most important emotion?
Cupid: It’s a very big responsibility, Elyzabeth. That’s why I have my children to help me.
Elyzabeth: Ah, yes, the Arcánús. They’re also your guard, no?
Cupid: Not my guards. They are the guardians of love. They’re the ones that help me bestow love upon others.
Elyzabeth: But they’re also deadly.
Cupid: If the need arises…
Elyzabeth: Like with Ariadna.
*Cupid frowns. He folds his hands over the table and stares into the distance for a few seconds.*
Cupid: Yes, as it happened the witch Ariadna proved to be a curse.
Elyzabeth: Figuratively and literally.
*Cupid says nothing. His long fingers wrap around his tall glass of water and he takes another sip of water. As he sets his glass down, he looks at me.*
Cupid: Yes. She cursed the Arcanus because she was blind to love.
Elyzabeth: Blind to love? Are you sure that it wasn’t simply that the Gods of love neglected her.
*Cupid leans forward. The friendly gleam in his eyes has vanished and is replaced by a silent power I can’t help but feel uneasy.*
Cupid: Love is there for everyone to grasp, Elyzabeth. However, sometimes we are blind to it. *He raises his hand to silence me.*
It can be because we’re too busy working or because we’re pursuing other interests. At times it can happen as quickly as lightening falls from the sky and at other times it can take years, but it is there. We neglect no one.
Elyzabeth: All right, all right. But Ariadne--
*Cupid laughs*
Cupid: Doomed herself and—
Elyzabeth: Arcánús Amator spell?
Cupid: Was a little something I concocted, but I do not have much more time to spare, Elyzabeth.
*I stand with Cupid as he pulls his chair back from the table.*
Know this, love, like life, is a complicated game, but it is better to have loved one night than to not love forever.
*Cupid places his hands over his heart as he speaks. I follow his gaze as he stares up at the bright blue sky. When I look at him again, he’s gone.*
Elyzabeth: Thank you, Cupid and thank you readers. I hope you enjoyed this brief, yet I think intense interview with the God of Love.

Arcanus Amator

As an Arcánús, one of Cupid’s blessed children, Amandus’s mission in life was to aid his father in bestowing love upon others.Unfortunately, when he found his own soul mate he was incapable of making her perceive their connection. Furthermore, she doomed their love forever. Amandus’s only hope is a spell concocted by Cupid: The Arcánús Amator: Spell of the Secret Lovers.

Hailey is desperate for love. She’s so desperate that when she finds a spell on the internet that promises to connect soul mates, she decides she must try it. Convincing her friend Hannah to help her, the girls embark on a one-night craze that will produce life-changing results and bring to life what was thought to be only a myth.

She frowned. “What the hell’s happened?” She was quite sure this was not how the spell worked. Granted, she hadn’t exactly read the entire information sheet on the website.
“No one does,” she whined, bouncing on the balls of her feet while staring at the flickering flame of the candle. The thing was more than 20 pages long. It was like reading one of those software agreements. No one read the damn thing. She’d read the instructions and the first page with all the warnings and that was more than enough. Taking a deep breath, she managed to settle her nerves a little. Everyone thought she was the ditsy blonde obsessed with the occult, but she wasn’t. She was a hard worker, impatient when things didn’t go as expected. It was partially the reason why she’d filed through so many relationships. Why stay with a guy when he clearly had nothing to offer? Some of her friends argued that she didn’t give them a chance. She begged to differ. She’d given them a chance, they just hadn’t taken it. 
True, her impatience sometimes got her into some trouble but it also saved her from a lot of it. That, however, wasn’t the case now. Annoyed that the spell had gone awry, she brushed back her bangs impatiently. Whatever had happened was not important. The priority was getting Hannah back home. Scanning the room for her discarded laptop, she did a double take.
Obstructing the exit to the living room stood the most gorgeous man she had laid eyes on. He was massive. His head almost brushed the top of the doorframe. His heavily muscled arms were crossed in front of him, his chest bare except for the intricate design of a red-inked tattoo that started around his left nipple and descended across his side to his hip. Low on his hips, he wore a long black skirt made out of what looked like leather.
Hailey hesitated a moment before finally glancing fully at his face. Her breath stilled as their eyes locked. A clear shade of violet, they were not from this world. Swallowing, she took a step backwards without breaking her stare. The stranger’s eyes glittered with curiosity and amusement.  
“Careful with the center of the star,” he warned.
Hailey stumbled and froze. His voice was deep and commanding and had a familiar ring to it that sent her senses reeling. Shaking her head slightly, she continued moving away from him.
Breath exploded from her lungs as she crashed into a shelf, a few ornaments she and Hannah kept, crashing to the floor.
“—out. Are you all right?”
Hailey winced, the back of the shelf digging into her skin, but she nodded anyway. The stranger flashed her a grin that made her knees weak. Hailey swallowed. The urge to see him smile again clawed at her insides like a desperate hunger.
Ignoring her, he glanced down at the pentagram, his silky dark curls framing his strong jaw and straight nose.
“You don’t look like you knew what you were getting into.”
Hailey held on to the bookcase behind her. She was afraid that if she moved the whole thing would topple over her head and she’d wake up, realizing that the man in the center of the room was nothing more than a dream.
“Read the first page of the instructions and didn’t bother to read the rest, huh?”
His eyes lifted to hers with a sassy smirk that lit up his violet eyes. Hailey stared speechless, the urge to touch the man making her palms itch as if she’d stepped into poison ivy.
“Yeah, you never did care what you got into, Ariadne.”
 Goose bumps sprouted over her flesh and she released the shelf, rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm her suddenly chilled skin. Ariadne. The name rang in her ears like a long forgotten memory always running at the edge of her vision, just a breadth away from her grasp.
No words came out as he carefully watched her face, almost as if saving every detail of her features into his memory. Her mouth felt parched, her tongue too large, as she searched for words that wouldn’t come.
Butterflies danced in the pit of her stomach and her chest tightened, making it difficult to breathe. Fear mingled with a strange sense of joy. Names, places, and moments in time danced in the edge of her vision, taunting her to remember them, taunting her to say them aloud but fleeing before she could take hold of them.
“My name isn’t…”
The man raised his dark eyebrows, the shadow of a smile lifting the edge of his full lips.
“I know.”

Buy Links
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Author Bio:
Defined as weird since she was about eight, Elyzabeth honors the title by making up songs about her chores, doodling stars and flowers on any blank sheet of paper and talking to her dog whenever he feigns interest.

Losing the battle to the voices in her head is her favorite pastime after annoying her younger sister with her singing. Writing stories full of passion and emotion where love conquers all is her happy pill and she'll forgo sleep to make her readers live the dream.

Stalk me at:Blog

Thursday, 30 October 2014

Boss Overboard #newrelease @Claire_Gillian_ #Giveaway @evernightpub

Happy Thursday, folks. There's something about cruises, isn't there, and my guest today has written the perfect Cruise romance. Don't just take my word for it, though. Check our Claire Gillian's new release Boss Overboard.


An all expenses paid, trans-Atlantic cruise has romance written all over it...unless you’re the poor sap who has to inspect the toilets and time the cafeteria lines. As if secret-shopping her company's failing cruise ship isn't bad enough, Lydia Johnson is forced to bring along a "top talent" new hire as her assistant. With a heart barely healed from her ex-fiancé’s deceit, she's in no mood to train a man who might cheat her out of an overdue promotion.

Paul Thomas may be new to J.P. Theriot Enterprises, but he certainly knows his way around cruise ships. The Cajun charmer also isn't shy about pursuing his desires, including his wary, but oh-so-sexy-when-she lets-her-hair-down manager. He's shared more about himself with Lydia than any other woman...except who he really is--J.P. Theriot.


Twilight had begun to assert itself, tamping down the sun's rays and casting long shadows. They walked the length of the first pier and paused at the rail's edge to look out to sea. A light breeze skimmed the water and tousled Lydia's hair. She paid it no heed but let it have its way with the strands. Following the wind's example, he stepped closer to her, their arms lightly brushing as they stood side by side.

"Every port has its own special siren's call," she said, brushing the hair away from her mouth.

"Hard to resist," he said gazing at her.

She angled her body toward him. "Except sirens usually lure the susceptible to their doom."

He stepped closer. "A nasty rumor begun by those with no heart or imagination."

"I'm not so sure I agree," she whispered.

"Try." He leaned down and kissed her lips softly. Pulling back barely enough to end any contact but still close enough for their breaths to mingle, he offered her an escape. When she didn't take it, he moved in again, encircling his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

The second kiss obliterated the first. For the first time, he felt her surrender, reluctant as it was, and reveled in it, taunted her with his triumph at proving she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Deepening it further, her soft moans filled his ears, her breasts pressed against his chest. His body responded to hers. Hands stole lower to grasp her hips and press his erection into her. She had to know how she affected him, there could be no doubt of the strength of his desire, the urgency of his need to touch, taste and bury himself in her.

For a long while, she moved with him, her hips grinding into his with a writhing need as their lips and tongues dueled in a sensuous dance. It wasn't enough. He needed more of her. Lips traveled to her jaw and then to her neck, to the spot right below her ear. Lydia caught her breath on a moan when he tasted the smooth skin there. An answering groan, nearly a growl, came out of him. He hadn't consciously made it, and yet he would claim it. All his instincts rallied and urged him to claim the woman in his arms, to drag her off somewhere private, to pin her beneath him and take her to the heights of pleasure. Forces stronger than the debating voices in his head whispering, "she'll hate you for seducing her" and "yes, yes, she wants you; she wants this; she just needs you to relieve her of a few barriers."

He slipped a hand between them to cradle the warmth of her breast in his hand. Her shirt and the bra beneath were both thin and minimal barriers, but barriers they still were. His other hand dropped to the swell of her ass, full and curvy and a sensuous delight to grip. The woman in his arms was sex incarnate. She was his siren and he gladly went down with his ship, drowning in her seductive depths.

Buy Links:

Don't forget to enter Claire's giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Author Bio:
Claire Gillian is the pen name for a number-crunching executive by day and a darkly romantic curmudgeon by night. She also writes fifty shades naughtier stuff under the pen name of Lila Shaw (but please don’t tell her mother) and young adult fiction as Iris St. Clair.  No matter which name she uses, Claire is happiest penning romance drenched in humor with a dash of intrigue and loads of spice. Claire lives in the boggy Pacific NW with her husband and two teen-aged sons.

Claire loves to hear from and connect with readers:

Wednesday, 29 October 2014

#MWTeaseHalloween from Lure of the Blood "I cannot let you go." #wolfshifter #sale @evernightpub

Hey, lovely peeps. I'm raising my head from my sick bed so to speak to bring you this tease. I wasn't sure I'd manage it, actually, but am determined for things to go back to normal around here.

For those not friends with me on FB, I was rushed into hospital early on Sunday morning with Sepsis following on from a bout of Tonsillitis, which started as a sore throat late Friday evening. Yeah, I had no idea, things could progress that quickly. Suffice to say, I was already in stage two when I arrived, and the A&E Doctor very helpfully declared that it was only due to me being normally fit and healthy and my body having a lot of reserves that I was still conscious.

To quote him. "These stats are very, very impressive. I'm amazed you can still talk to me." I shall spare you the boring details,but some very aggressive antibiotic  treatment later, which included the whole works of oxygen, drip, steroids, to name but a few, I eventually emerged from the haze. I came home with a battalion of antibiotics and painkillers on Monday afternoon - sooner than anticipated, in fact - and am slowly clawing my way out of the haze.

I'm only mentioning this, because this is bound to be full of errors, so forgive them, please. Those abs have some pretty strong sideffects.


Enough of my pity party, however, and onto the tease. I thought I would go back to the very first paranormal story I have ever written, Lure of the Blood, which is an Editor's pick.


Marnie and Ion face an impossible situation, and there seems no way out of it.

Usual warning applies, this is a hot tease. Marnie has tracked Ion into the forest, where he has run off his frustrations, or so he thought.

 “Guess I know who wore the trousers, your mum, right?”
“My father loved her to distraction, so yes. I guess in the privacy of our home, she did. He would have done anything for her as long as it didn’t endanger the pack. But the pack came first, always. It had to. That’s the only reason he allowed her to visit the witch. He needed an heir and at least on that, she delivered. He knew there would be a price to pay, there always is with magic, but my mother was desperate for a baby. He would have gladly forsaken children, were it not for the bloodlines.” The expression in his eyes made Marnie’s heart skip a beat, before it turned into a jackhammer at his next words. “I understand how he felt. It’s not easy being torn between your duty and the woman you love.”
“Ion, I…” His kiss stopped her response and for the life of her she could not resist the gentle caress of his firm lips. When their tongues touched, Ion’s wolf growled low and he deepened the kiss with an urgency and desperation that matched her own. She shuddered when he broke away, the determination in his eyes so intense she forgot to breathe altogether. His fangs descended and he tilted her head with a muttered curse. Marnie could feel the heat of that gaze setting her alight. The temptation to give in to the silent question in his glowing eyes as his head descended towards her and his fangs scraped along her neck was almost too much to resist.
But they couldn’t do this. She wasn’t right for him, no matter how much every single cell in her body screamed at her to submit. With clarity, she suddenly knew that her destiny was to stop him, to save him from himself. She had to leave and in time he would find a shifter female; he had to. His furious howl, when she put one hand on her neck and pushed against his chest at the same time, echoed around the tall ferns.  He had never looked more like a wolf than at that moment, the veins in his neck standing out, his body coiled for action. The air around him shimmered and Marnie held her breath at the leashed power in front of her, his features barely human as he growled at her.
“Fuck it, little one, do you have any idea how much I want to claim you and say to hell with the consequences?”
She tried to scramble away from him, but the arm of steel around her waist yanked her back on his bare lap. The heat of his naked body enveloped her, pitching her own arousal to meet his. She gasped at the feel of his fully erect cock nudging against her core and instant moisture seeped through her thong. Her stomach flipped in anticipation and her womb clenched painfully, sending a spike of pure lust to her instantly throbbing clit. There was no way his shifter senses wouldn’t pick up on her body’s immediate response and the heavy scent of her arousal in the air between them. She buried her face in his chest, unable to look at the fierce heat in his eyes, as his hold on her tightened and his breathing grew heavy.
“Ion, we can’t… please.”
The grip on her waist grew painful and his voice was a strained plea in her ear.
“I want you, little one. I cannot let you go.”
Marnie screwed her eyes shut, inhaling deeply of Ion’s scent. Oh he smelled so good and this felt so right, but they couldn’t do this. She could never be his and she had to leave.
“We…we can’t, Ion. I’m endangering the pack just by being here, you know that. They’ve charged me with murder and they will find me eventually. I cannot be here. You would risk exposure and it’s my stupid fault this happened in the first place.” She placed one hand on his mouth to stop his immediate denial, her heart skipping a happy hop at the fierce protectiveness she saw in his eyes.
“No, Ion, it is my fault. Not yours, not even Lucas’, but mine. You both just reacted to my stupidity and tried to save me in your own way. If I hadn’t insisted on walking, none of this would have happened. The man wouldn’t be dead and you wouldn’t have felt obliged to bring me back here and…”
He silenced her with a kiss, his tongue demanding entry, his body crowding her. His low growls turned the blood in her veins to molten lava as her body went up in flames, until she simply kissed him back.  She melted into his body, when he licked down her throat and when his teeth closed around one of her nipples through the fabric of her shirt, pure shards of pleasure shot straight to her clit. Her hips moved restlessly, rubbing her swollen folds against the head of his cock and they groaned in unison, when he lifted her in one fluid move. Shoving the flimsy barrier of her underwear away, she moaned low in her throat when he drove into her wet heat in one powerful thrust. He held himself perfectly still, his muscles trembling with the effort, his eyes like hot coals devouring her.
“Still think we can’t do this, little one?”
She barely managed a feeble shake of her head, before he moved them both to their knees, the move lodging him deeper inside her.  The breath whooshed out of her lungs, when he grabbed her hips to pull all the way out, only to thrust deep with a low growl in her ear. His chest hair tickled across her back and his warmth enveloped her, as he licked up her neck. The bite on her ear, as he pulled all the way out, only to enter her again in one slow, deliberate move, pure pleasure mixed with pain.  Marnie felt every agonisingly slow thrust, as her internal muscles clenched around him, desperate to hold him in, to seek the release only he could bring. Every move scraped against her G-spot building the sweet pressure to unbearable levels, until she begged him to move faster, yet still he kept it slow. Every thrust punctuated with the same growled words over and over.
When Marnie thought she couldn’t possibly take anymore, her whimpers filling the falling shadows around them, his touch on her clit sent her spiralling into the abyss and he finally lost control. With an almost brutal yank on her hair, Ion pulled her up against him, the shift in position lodging him so deep his cock scraped her womb and she was lost in the frantic assault on her senses, as waves and waves of intense pleasure consumed her. The wet sounds of their bodies slapping together, their harsh breaths and Ion’s growl of completion reverberated around the small clearing, before they both collapsed on the forest floor and Ion pulled her sated body atop his.
“You’re mine, little one. Whatever happens, you’re mine!”

Marnie's decision to finance her law degree by pole dancing awakens her latent sexuality, and the mysterious stranger lurking in the shadows sends her libido into overdrive.

Realizing her sexy lurker is a vampire is bad enough, but her boss is the alpha wolf of a pack of shifters? Torn between her attraction to both men and surrounded by danger, she has a decision to make. One that will change her life forever.

Be Warned: multiple partners

Available from Evernight, Amazon, ARe, Bookstrand

Incidentally Evernight are holding a 25% Sale on all paranormal titles atm.

Now hop on to the other fabulous teasers this week. As ever thanks to our fabulous host Sandra Bunino

Stay naughty, folks

D xxx

Sunday, 26 October 2014

#SexySnippets Her Bear Protector (The Protectors 1) "Tell me you want this." #bdsm #newrelease @sirenbookstrand #shifter

Happy Sunday, folks. I'm bringing you one last set of Sexy Snippets from this story, as I'll be switching to my November release next week. Let me take this opportunity to thank all you lovely readers again. Her Bear Protector is selling incredibly well, and has reached the dizzy heights of #2 on the M/F Bestseller chart on Bookstrand. I still have to pinch myself at times :-)

*blows kisses to her readers*

To set the scene, Ronan inadvertently triggered Tina in their play, and she screamed red. Like most people Tina carries demons from her past, and Ronan was pretty pissed at himself for triggering her. Lots of talking and gentle Dom care later, Tina seems ready to try again, but he needs to be sure...


He tore his mouth from hers with a groan, and studied her. Eyes shut, with her hair in wild disarray around her flushed face, her kiss-swollen lips parted slightly, she looked like a woman ready to fuck, but he had to be sure.
“Fuck, I want you, babe, but if you’re not ready, now is the time to put a stop to this, before I won’t be able to step away. Tell me you want this.”
Her eyes fluttered open slowly, and he saw the same desperate need he felt reflected back at him.

“Please fuck me. Fuck me hard and help me chase those images away, Sir.”

[Siren Classic: Erotic Paranormal Consensual BDSM Romance, shape-shifters, spanking, sex toys, HEA]

From the minute Ronan Bernhard roars into Tina Snowdon’s sleepy village on his Harley, he inhabits her thoughts and dreams. The inked mountain rescue biker is a sex-on-legs hunk, and her knickers aren’t the only ones that melt in a flash at his wicked smile. Ronan, however, keeps his distance and simply becomes another client of her cleaning firm, until the morning she turns up and finds his cottage trashed, and her life is turned upside down.

Bear Shifter Ronan recognises his mate the minute he scents her. Having her clean for him means he can watch over her from afar, because to claim her as his mate and sub is out of the question. As the village protector he has responsibilities he can’t ignore—duties that will place Tina in grave danger—even if she were able to accept not only his bear, but also his darker desires. The morning she finds him injured, his bear takes over…

Available now at a 10% discount 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, 25 October 2014

Spotlight on: Breach of Contract @TheOriginalGray #mm #comingsoon @evernightpub

Happy Saturday, folks,  If you're here for the Fright Night Blog Hop, please click here or on the graphic in the side bar!

I have a mm treat on  my blog for you today. JR Gray is here to tell us about this upcoming release Breach of Contract!

With the legal trouble behind them, Daniel Caplin and Rafael Argon are ready to settle into a low key d/s relationship, but life is unrelenting, when blackmail shatters their illusion of happily ever after. Pictures from one of the Rafaels public scenes instill fear into his new Submissive, Daniel, acting as a wedge driving the new couple apart.
            The building peril in Georges community weighs heavy on his shoulders as he struggles to find the culprit while hiding his feelings for his new house guest. Jesse is torn between ending his marriage, picking up a rebound he should have left fifteen years in the past, and the dangling carrot of a possible relationship with a man. He is forced to fight for what he wants most, a leap he may be too chicken to take.
            In the sequel to Legally Bound George battles to take down an unknown enemy, while watching helpless, as those he cares for most are broken beyond repair. Can Rafael and Daniel rebuild their trust after it's broken with lies?
            The back elevator dinged as he approached, and the doors slid back to
reveal Jesse's face. He had circles under his eyes and worry lines in
his forehead. Two fingers held a garment bag over one shoulder and a
duffle over his other.
            Is it still okay if I stay? He put a smile on his lips that George
knew was fake.
            But of course. Let me help you. George approached him and tried to
take the bag, but Jesse didnt move to hand it over.
            Ive got it.
            Dont be absurd. I would have a slave do it, but hes rather tied up
at the moment.
            The statement earned a chuckle out of Jesse, and he gave up the bag.
Even hurt Jesse had a light in his blue eyes and his heart on his
sleeve, a trait that made him wholly unique compared to the masks most
wore to impress George. I can stay on the sofa or something if the
slaves use the guest rooms.
            George laughed and turned his back to stalk down the hall. When he
didnt hear Jesse following, he cast a glance over his shoulder.
Slaves in bed how naive you really are, handsome.
            Jesse started after him, brow creased. Where do they sleep then? He
caught up and followed George to the other side of the penthouse.
            He realized Jesse was serious, and he laughed throatily again. I have
cages for them.
            I love you and Daniel, but your lifestyle is fucked.
Author Bio
When not staying up all night writing, J.R Gray can be found basking in the warm glow of the Miami sun, or at the gym where it's half assumed Gray is a permanent resident. A dominant, pilot, and sword fighting enthusiast, Gray finds it hard to be in the passenger seat of any car. Gray frequently interrupts real life, including normal sleep patterns, to jot down nonsense. The bane of Gray's existence are commas, and even though it's been fully acknowledged they are necessary, they continue to baffle and bewilder.

If Gray wasn't writingwell, that's not possible. The build up of untold stories would haunt Gray into an early grave or possibly a mental institution where the tales would end up on the walls in crayon and finger paint.

Find J.R. Gray online:
Twitter / Twitter Book only news.

Tumblr / Tumblr (NSFW)

Friday, 24 October 2014

Flash Fiction Friday - The Gateway #FFF

 If you're here for the Fright Night Blog Hop, please click here or on the graphic in the side bar!

Another Friday, another flash. Enjoy, I hope :-)

Who was she kidding? She couldn’t pull this off. How was one supposed to get into one of these dresses anyway? No wonder they had ladies maids in those days. No such maid was here to come to her aid now. No, it was only her, using her feminine wiles against the horror that would otherwise befall her family, and Landon did not want her.
He had specifically asked for Miriam. She snapped the mirror shut and scowled at her reflection in the curiously hazy glass of her dressing table.

The door opened and his large shadow loomed over her.


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

Fright Night Hop - Join in the Halloween fun #giveaway Eclipse of the Blood Moon @evernightpub #vampire

Join us for a little Halloween fun in the Fright Night blog hop! Stop by each blog to check out their favorite paranormal or spooky reads and enter their giveaways!

Hello lovely, peeps and welcome to my corner of the Fright Night Hop. With Halloween just round the corner, I had to join in now, especially as we had a recent blood moon.

You see, a few of the members of my critique group got together and came up with the idea of an anthology set around the Blood Moon, and The Eclipse of the Blood Moon was born.

We had such fun writing these stories! As part of the Hop I'm giving away an e-copy of this anthology. Just leave me a comment and tell me which paranormal creature you would love to spend Halloween with. Please make sure you leave me an e-mail address so that I can contact you should you win.

When the blood moon coincides with Halloween, the forces of darkness unite to wreak their evil spells. Will this All Hallows Eve bring joy or sorrow? Curses abound and destiny calls, as a vampire watches over his human. Devils atone to the moon, and shifters hunt their mate on land protected by a powerful white witch. An angel takes human shape to protect the gypsy girl he loves, and a black widow hunts her prey in human form.

In these five chilling and sexy tales, is love enough to break the cycle? Or is all lost under the orange glow of the menacing sphere in the sky?

Be Warned: multiple partners, anal sex, spanking

Available from Evernight  Amazon  ARe  Bookstrand

Here is a little hot tease from my story Destined Lovers:

"You're not running away screaming."

He raised their linked hands over his heart, and she leant into the palm cupping her face.

"I wouldn't get very far if I tried, now, would I? Not with whatever is out there." She held her breath at the fury contorting his features as his fangs ran out just a little, and her pussy contracted in response. This was insane. She didn't react like this to men, ever, only in her dreams. Come morning she could never remember the pleasure inducing shadowy figure; only the nightmares remained—nightmares that now invaded her waking hours and had her facing a real life vampire.

"Besides, if you wanted to eat me, I dare say you would have done so by now."

The hold on her hand grew painful, and the deep growl pitched her arousal higher still. Damn that was sexy.

"You have no idea how much I do want to eat you."

The growled words should have sent her screaming, but they seemed to have the opposite effect on her wayward body. She gave in to instinct and standing on tiptoes ran her free hand through his slightly too long hair and tugged his head down. He went as still as a statue when she touched her lips to his and whispered, "Then eat me."

He let go of her fingers and cupped her face with both of his large hands. The intensity of his gaze held her spellbound, until she forgot all about where they were, what he was, and what was waiting for them outside the shuttered house. All that mattered was the insistent throbbing between her legs, the blood rushing in her ears, and the need to be claimed by this man. It's as though she'd waited all her life for this moment in time, the connection she felt to him so strong it took her breath away. The room swayed, and she would have fallen had he not chosen that moment to pick her up and set her on the kitchen table, sending the parcel and her cup of chocolate flying. Splatters of the dark liquid shot up the kitchen wall, but neither took any notice.

Drake ran his index finger over the rapidly beating pulse point in her neck, and his fangs ran out further. Her insides clenched in excitement, as he ran that digit lower, over her collarbone, until it skimmed the top of her breasts visible in the V of her pajama top. Her breasts grew heavy, and her nipples turned into little hard bullets straining against the fabric. She instinctively rocked her hips to grinds her aching pussy into the hard table top, but his hand on her thigh stopped her.

"Don't. When you splinter it will be under my hands and tongue, so I can eat your cum, and then bury my cock so deep inside you, you'll never want me to leave."

His voice held an edge of steel, and he pulled her legs apart and placed his hand on her moist core. His smile turned wicked at her instant moan, as a fresh wave of her juices turned the crotch of her flannel nightwear as damp as her panties. He inhaled sharply and stroked her through the fabric with slow, measured movements that had her squirming anew. His other hand expertly unbuttoned her top until her breasts fell free, and she gasped when he blew across the tight nipples.

"Drake, please." She didn't know what she was begging for exactly, too caught up in her body's reaction to the sensations overtaking her. Drake claimed her mouth in answer, his tongue exploring her mouth with a breathtaking tenderness that brought tears of joy to her eyes. The slight sting from his fangs added another dimension to the experience. His hand massaged one breast and then the other, before he broke the kiss, whilst his other hand kept up the maddening strokes to her pussy. She ground her clit into his hand, desperate for him to increase the pressure and to free her of the clothes she was wearing. She moaned her frustration when he released her instead. Drake used both hands to push her breasts together. She clung to his shoulders and locked her ankles behind his butt. He smiled against her skin and scraped his fangs along the sensitive skin of her neck and down towards the valley between her breasts. His tongue delved between, and his thumbs brought the already hard nubs of her nipples into aching peaks of sensation. By the time he sucked one of the sensitive bullet points into his mouth, she was once again shamelessly thrusting her hips into his groin, the resulting friction against her clit having her pant her arousal.

"Please, Drake, I need to … oh God … yes, yes."

She fell apart when he bit down, and his fangs sank into her breast. The most intense orgasm she'd ever experienced coursed through her veins, every strong suck against her nipple, shooting straight to her empty pussy. Drake's deep growl as he thrust his still covered cock against her vibrated through her, and she shuddered against him. He released her nipple with a pop and wiped the trickle of blood off his chin with another growl at whatever he saw her in her expression.

She shrieked in surprise when he whipped her pajama bottoms and panties off with lightning speed so that her bare pussy hit the cool surface of the table. He licked the trickle of blood trailing down her quivering lower tummy, and her eyes fell shut at the first contact of his tongue on her tender nether lips. 

"You're so wet for me, and you taste fucking spectacular, Suz. Come for me again."


Hope you enjoyed this look at our tale. Now hop onto the other fantastic blogs in this hop.

Stay naughty, folks.
D xx

Thursday, 23 October 2014

Get to know Muffy Wilson (@SexyMuffyWilson) #authorinterview #newrelease Memories & Kisses

I have a treat for you today. The lovely Muffy is on my blog to answer my nosy questions and to tell us about her new release. Now, by her own admission, she is a bit wordy...

*smiles and nods* grab a cuppa, have a buiscuit or two and get to know her.

So glad you could join us Muffy!


Thank you so much Doris, for having me here today. Gosh, I am so excited! Having a book (Memories & Kisses published by Yellow Silk Dreams) and two stories released in an anthology (Once Upon a Menage edited by Rachel Kenley and published by Ravenous Romance) in the same week is so tremendously exciting. To be able to share my joy and personal accomplishment with you and your readers is such an honor. You are such a generous and gracious friend, but then, I think everyone already knows that about you!


Thanks, Muffy. It's great to have you here. On with the questions then :-)

Can you tell us a bit about yourself?

I was raised in a military family. My father was a USAF Colonel whose work took us to all points from Alaska to France. We moved every two or three years, so I didn’t have what most would refer to as a traditional childhood, more like Leave it to Beaver meets the Jetsons. We lived in two small towns “one the economy”, near Laon AFB where my Dad was stationed, Bruyeres and Notre Dame de Liesse.  Many of my ‘firsts’ were in France as my formative years developing were north of Paris. So, my first kiss, my first taste of escargot, my first hot dog on a French baguette was at the top of the Eiffel Tower, my first bikini (I was thirteen) was on the French Riviera and I fell in love with a thirty-something lifeguard named Aldo. I thought my father was going straight to an early grave. My mother thought it charming and funny since I wound up looking like a blistered, crying lobster with the worst sun burn ever. No need to worry about Aldo. A few years later, my mother and I were shopping in Paris; it was the day she bought me an alligator handbag, a small one, with a bright red leather interior. I still have it. We were on the Champs Elysees on a corner and everyone was wailing and crying. It was 22 November 1963 and I was 14 years old. It was the day John F Kennedy was assassinated and I witnessed as the world was crushed and Camelot fell. I think I grew up a lot that day. We had to hurry home, 90 miles north. The Base was on lock-down and red alert. It was a day the world stood still yet was fiercely frantic beneath the surface.

My generation was filled with growth and exploration. It has been an exciting time to live. We wanted to explore everything: limitation, space, the human spirit, religion, segregation, peace, politics, oh God, the politics! It was a pivotal time in our growth and the growth of our country. The Viet Nam war changed to dynamics of war, so did we. I am not so sure we were equipped to take on such lofty pursuits, but we didn’t know that at the time. We burned bras, draft cards and belonged to the SDS in colleges across the country. We wanted to change the world. Looking back, we did, but I am not so sure it didn’t change us more.

Right now, after my illustrious professional marketing career of being “the first woman this and the first woman that”, I am a successful real estate agent and diva smut muffin in SW Florida.

What made you write ‘this’ story?

“This” book is a compilation of three separate stories. It is really a kind of trip down “Memory Lane”. I just turned 65 and I think those ‘trips’ are common among those of us that are aging into the stratosphere!  We know we are aging, but our memories do not; in them we are still young. Nor do they lose any steam or ardor and we can all use a moment or two to remember those times that spurred us beyond our wildest dreams. I think we all have those shared memories of stolen kisses, nubile embraces, love lost still burning bright.

Old memories are like old red wine - all the richer for time passed. And the kisses taste sweeter too. Three romantic and very sexy stories take us back to things as they once were, and forward to the wonderful times to come. Memories & Kisses has three stories of old loves remembered; a grieving woman rescued from the sea, two childhood friends growing old friendship into passionate loving, and two long separated teenagers finding that time has mellowed them both and maturity has brought a passionate intensity they had never imagined. All three stories are of rekindled love that survived decades of longing and is now ready to burst into flame.

The Storm ~ a newly widowed woman unable to face the world alone and lonely, buries her husband. Overcome by grief, she walks into the rough, grinding pitiless surf in an effort to blend the gray in her heart with the gray on the horizon. She is saved from the crashing waves by a man, a bearded white haired man who brings her back to life and gives her a reason to live again.

The Park ~ two childhood friends, now adults, reunite on the eve of the dedication of their once favorite playground now slated to become a high-tech water park. The destruction of their favorite playground makes them melancholy; reliving their dreams as children in this park inspires them to greater, more passionate long buried desires they never responded to as teens, but knew existed but in their memories.

The Story of Us ~ high school friends, once nearly sweethearts, reconnect in their sixties. The Internet removes the veil of uncomfortable shyness. They are open and revealing in emails about their youthful teenaged desires for one another. They discover what we all hope is true: that love is eternal. Surviving decades, not only in the shadowed recesses of our memories, but in a kiss, a touch, a magnetic embrace love thrives.

Do you have memories of a love that once was?...of a love that was lost?...of, perhaps, a rekindled love that survived decades of longing? 

I know I do, so I wrote about some of them. Lord knows, there are more!

Tell us about your cover.

You know, all of these stories are about young people ten to Twenty years out of high school in The Park, and older lovers in The Storm and The Story of Us. I wanted a cover that evoked memories, no matter one’s age. She did that for me with her penetrating eyes, forlorn look as if she paused to rejoice in a privately shared memory. Her scarlet lips stirred the erotic by suggesting something burned deeply within her, perhaps lost love or unrequited love? She is young, younger than my protagonists, but I wanted to suggest that memories begin the moment the yearning for love and connection begins. I think she does that, She appears to be looking back, and don’t we all do that when we trip down Memory Lane? I hope her look beckons other’s to look back with her and her crimson lips suggests it is going to be a very sensuous trip.…..

Describe a typical day’s writing for us

I like to write in the morning and late afternoon. I rise and have coffee with my husband in the morning as I have for the last nearly 30 years. We chat, catch up on the news and work-out tough crossword puzzle clues together. That is early. By 8am I have usually settled the house, answered emails, messages and the mail, fed and emptied the dog. I attack my Social Media then write. With all my morning chores done, I feel comfortable catching up on what my character have been up to over night while I slept. Before I was retired, I had to get to my work and wait until after dinner to spend time with my “imaginary” friends. If I leave them alone for too long, they have way too many mischievous antics to share. I stop for a small lunch with my husband then onto the afternoon scenes. I usually stop about three until after dinner. I spend that time on household chores, commitments, banking…whatever needs my attention; I drink water all day and cocktails at 4 with my husband. I go online once in the morning and once at night. I have an addictive personality - obsessive compulsive - so I try to stay away from temptation: Facebook, chocolate, TV (although background noise does not bother me) and any kind of over-indulgence except writing.

What inspires you?

Life inspires me: the news, talking to my friends, meeting new people, any kind of growth be it plant life or the life of men and women. My son inspires me, his pride, dedication, loyalty. Where does that come from? Where does love come from? Why do I feel blue when it rains? How can swimming lift my spirits? Why do sunsets make one think of loss or love? Walking my dog in the morning mist and dew makes me feel young and hopeful, forward looking - why is that? Ask me any question and I take a voyage to find the answer which opens a tributary uniting dozens of ancillary offshoots. I could wind up anywhere and be inspired by anything. My husband says I would talk to a door knob if it would answer, I am that inquisitive. I think moving every 2-3 years with my Father’s reassignments made me interested. One has to be flexible quickly in order to assimilate and fit in quickly. We never had much time to build relationships because time was of the essence; we would be moving again in a quick 2 or 3 years.

If you weren’t a writer what would you be?

All that I have been: wife, mother, a business leader, owner and activist. What I would like to do now, if I didn’t write, I would have to do something. I couldn’t sit around watching TV. I would take piano lessons and sing in a piano bar. My aunt sang torch songs and played piano in smoke filled supper clubs and piano bars. I always wanted to do that.

I would learn Spanish, in SW Florida, there is a huge Latino population and learning to communicate properly, I think, makes them feel welcome and humanize us. I would learn Yoga and dancing. I never knew what it meant when people used the phrase, “Life begins at ---”….fill in the blank: 40, 50, 65?  I do now. Life has you by the nuts until your kids are grown, you are making good money and then retire…not that being held by the nuts is such a bad thing. It definitely has a time and place!

Do your characters ever surprise you?

My characters are a lot like me. But, I have little control over them and I have a conscious. I write what they do, where they go, what they eat, who they sleep with, whom they love (which is not always the same person…ahem). My characters live a life of freedom and a pure lack of restraint or guilt. Some of that I edit out, sometimes I elaborate on it, as the whim strikes me. Most of my characters act as though they have nothing to lose, until they realize that they do - they do have something to lose. We all do. They can’t be much different than the rest of us except in the areas off limits to the rest of us earthbound mortals. They need to win where we are afraid to go, or have been and failed. They have to show us that everything is possible and the results are spectacular.

What could you not do without when you’re writing?

Background noise and water. I like music or the TV even. I am used to having distractions, which I find comforting now. I always had to be able to do 15 things at once and then get back to whatever I was doing without missing a beat. I was the Midwest Regional Director for IBM’s Real Estate and Construction Division. Juggling balls (there I go again!), employees, crisis’, customers and executive management required I get back on track quickly. So, distractions can also be a periodic welcome relief. When my husband and I retired, I was 39. He was 53. We moved up to a little Island in the middle of Lake Michigan and Green Bay, bought a historic bar and expanded it over 13 years to a bar, restaurant and motel. One can’t do things like that if they are easily distracted. But, I need noise and water. I got a lot of noise and distraction with a bar, restaurant and 28 employees. Water, not so much - mostly beer, but it worked. Now, I need chocolate and water…whew, how times have changed.

What words of wisdom do you have for the aspiring authors out there?

Write. Write. Write. And READ! Everything and anything that interests you. Don’t let anyone discourage you, because they will try. Don’t let YOU discourage you. No one values your work and what it means to you, with the exception of YOU. “Everyone writes books; everyone has written a book.” My husband always says that. “Oh, a guy that has written another book!” It is so easy to publish a book, today; everyone is doing it. If you have ever tried, you know that isn’t true. It is a solitary life, one you live inside your head - alone. Nobody ‘gets’ it until they read something you have written and if it is erotica? You are nothing short of a porn star.

So, write, don’t get distracted, exercise self-discipline - lots of it - and bring chocolate. Pair with someone you trust. Agree to be one another’s coach, no-holes-barred. A coach is invaluable. They set a bar for you that you cannot see yourself. Listen to them and do not take it personally. They want you to be wildly successful.

Where do you see yourself in ten year’s time?

Oh, gosh…..writing, retired from real estate. Sipping Manhattans, eating chocolate, looking at great pics of young men and editing.

Do you have a favourite quote?

I do, I always have. Marilyn Monroe was burdened by such self deprecating guilt because she was beautiful, not because she was smart because she was then grew and developed herself into something no one else could be - her. When I entered the business world after dropping out of college, I was bold, assertive and devilishly determined. I also had, and still do have, a monstrous work ethic. But then I was surrounded by men; all my peers, superiors and even subordinates were men. There were two things that kept me on point. As I advanced, I made a lot of presentations. My mentor gave me the best advice I ever needed and that was that every person (all men) watching me, put “their pants on the same way - naked” which always made me smile when I looked out at the audience or board members. The chuckle leveled the playing field for me. I relaxed knowing I was one up because mine were panty hose. My other favorite quote, when I was in business in an all-man-world was:

“Any woman that strives to be a man's equal lacks ambition." - Marilyn Monroe

What can I say about that? Marilyn was brilliant, but over looked, like an undetonated armed bomb. Her intelligence and self-deprecating commitment to her career never was revealed until her death. Neither was her frailties and doubts, which we all have.

Now that I am older and ‘wiser’, if I were to have my favourite quote on my headstone, I think it would be "What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.” ...
~ Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.

Do you ever suffer from writer’s block?

To say no, would be nothing but a lie. Some days, not too often, then yet…the spirit needs a break and refuses to cooperate. I feel it is a sign that I need to step back and spend some time with my husband or doing something else. Muses do talk to one another, you know. They plot against you. Sometimes, it is just better to ignore them. It pisses them off and gets them to sparring.

What other books can your readers look forward to?

I have three more books that will be released by January 2015. If I am lucky, they will all be available by the Holiday rush of Christmas. Beyond that, I have a control list of about fifteen projects which will be concluded by mid-year and 25-30 projects that will require my attention by year end 2015. Only another Virgo will appreciate how organized I am about my work. Some refer to it as being obsessive compulsive. I can role with that.

I am finishing:
“The Para-Portage of Emily” for Secret Cravings Publishing
“Taylor Savior” for Decadent Publishing
“Cheerleaders in Heat” a self-published project and collaboration with another published author.

And finally can you share the blurb and excerpt with us?

Yes, of course, from the first story “The Storm” in my new release, “Memories & Kisses”. Thank you so much for asking.

Excerpt from The Storm:

I walk to the surf, heaving for breath, weak from running against the rain, fighting the storm, the sadness, my loss - your death. I walk into the surf and keep walking. It is surprisingly warm and enveloping. I suddenly feel comforted, my heartbreak no longer a penetrating pain. I know you are with me and I seek out your embrace. I cry again, scream at the thunderous surf, and then I am gone. I can’t breathe and I am falling, rolling, tumbling in a hazy grey darkness that is wet, ferocious, and demanding. Suddenly my dizzy comfort turns to fear and I struggle against the pounding, relentless waves. What have I done? I am a good swimmer and an athlete, but can I beat this? Instinct overcomes me. My heart pounds. I start to kick wildly. Moving my arms toward the surface, the current catches me again, tumbling me over and over. My lungs burn. I lose my bearing—which way is up, down? I start to get a sickening feeling of death, my own impending death, and, just as I start to give in, I feel the hand of God grab my hair and hood in a fierce grip and yank me to the surface. I feel the sky darken and the surf diminish. Everything tastes salty, gritty, and then my body heaves, relaxed, and my world goes black.

I awake to pounding on my chest; I am being rattled and something is covering my mouth and nose. I cough, retch, and then vomit the last vestiges of the ocean from my body. My mouth is filled with grit, sand, and the salty taste of taffy. I open my eyes and see God reaching down toward me. He leans over me and the salty ocean water drips from his face to mine. He is big, strong, and gasping; he is surrounded in a glowing aura which intensifies his white hair and white beard. I am frightened. I must be dead. But that cannot be! How foolish I am. He sits me up, tenderly and gently helps me to my feet, all the while holding me securely with large strong hands and then he speaks to me.

“Are you alright, miss? You scared me near to death when I saw you walk into the surf. Why in the world….Where do you live?”

I am alive to my senses.

 “Wha. . . ?” My knees weaken and I fall further into his arms. Quickly, he catches my descent and carries me to a bench where he sits me down, moving the errant curls of hair from my cheeks, and speaks to me again.

“Where are you staying? Shall I call the police?”

I can feel my heart pounding against his chest.

“No, please, I’m . . . I’ll be fine. My key, my pocket; it’s in my pocket. Please…”

I can’t remember my hotel or where I am or why. As he unzips my pocket and removes my hotel key, he pulls my hood up over my head to shelter my face from the pelting rain. Collecting me under his arm, my body firmly in his grip, we walk slowly back to the hotel. The traffic is still sparse, no taxis to be seen. It seems to take forever. The storm is so much worse, the surf so high, sucking the wind into the watery folds as it retreats to the ocean. At once, I am so scared that I begin to tremble and yet, I feel protected.

As we walk into the hotel lobby, the bell captain approaches us and asks if I need the hotel doctor, whereupon my guardian says, “No, that won’t be necessary, thank you.” We take the elevator to my floor and I am finally in the sanctity of my room, as lonely as it is. My savior, my hero sits me in the desk chair while he goes to the bathroom and starts the shower. He returns. He is saying something to me that I can’t understand, but he starts to take my shoes off. Then he leans me forward, removes my windbreaker and sports bra, and helps me stand while he pulls relentlessly at my wet spandex knee-highs. He kicks off his own running shoes and removes his blazer. He carries me to the shower but I feel as if I’m watching the scene unfold from outside my own body. I am unafraid of this stranger.

The water is hot and piercing, but he is gentle, loving, and tender. He bathes me and washes my hair, lifting the removable nozzle to rinse the sand, grit, and seaweed from my hair and lithe body. My skin is a deep pink from the intense extreme of the cold grasp of the ocean and the heated comfort of the hot shower. His hands are everywhere, on every curve, gently caressing my skin with his soapy fingertips. He deftly, tenderly, washes my breasts, my taunt stomach and pussy. He controls himself, but I can’t let him stop. I look up at him, and notice he is watching himself bathe me. He seems to caress my buttocks as he cleans the sand from between my rounded cheeks. Unembarrassed, he rinses my body thoroughly, running his fingers though my shoulder-length brown hair. I feel safe, warmed, yet surprisingly aroused, weakened by my ordeal.

For the first time, it seems, he looks down at me. He takes me in as I look up at him, transfixed by his control. I am naked in my sorrow and my pain; he, fully clothed except for his windbreaker and shoes, smiles, touching my heart. I did not notice his erection in the shower, he is a complete gentleman. My breasts, the curve of my belly to my thigh, my face against his chest glisten in the shower, as I trust him to help me.

Thank you so much for hosting me here today and I hope I haven’t put anyone to sleep. I know I am yawning! But, thank so much for asking me here today. I would be honored, if readers are interested, they can buy my work at:


Author Bio and Links:

Muffy, author of erotic, romantic stories about love, sex, hope and passion, was born in San Antonio, Texas, to traditional parents. With two older brothers, she was the youngest, the family "princess," indulged and pampered. She adored her older brothers, following them everywhere and was surrounded by love, stimulation, and pets. Her father was a career Colonel and pilot in the U.S. Air Force which required the family to travel extensively. The family lived in most points between Alaska and France. Muffy spent her formative years in Europe and came of age in France.
Returning from France with her family, Muffy finished high school in Northern California and attended the University of California, Davis, and majored in Business Management. Muffy entered the work force, independent with a fierce work ethic, and retired at 39 from IBM as a Mid-West Regional Director in the Real Estate and Construction Division. She and her husband moved to a small Island in northern Wisconsin where they owned a historic tavern, restaurant and resort business which they since have sold. They now live a charmed life by the water in SW Florida. Muffy pretends to be a serious real estate business person but, in real life, indulges her private interest in writing sexy short stories and sensual literotica ~ Live, Laugh, Love with Passion.

Please share your recent publications.
                Released 3 October 2014:

                Also featuring Muffy's work in this anthology of of adult Grimm's Fairy Tales, Once Upon a Menage: An Anthology of Fairy Tale Threesomes edited by Rachel Kenley (Ravenous Romance), Muffy has two erotic adaptations, The Prince, The Mermaid and The Siren ('The Little Mermaid') and The Prurient Puss ('Puss and Boots'). They are sexy, just a little naughty and best of all, they are threesomes!!
Buy Link at Amazon

Previously Published:
Oysters & Chocolate, Decadent Publishing, Ravenous Romance, Yellow Silk Dreams