Tag Archives: Interview

a pawn in a dangerous game ‘Gabe’s Revenge’ #DarkBDSM #Romance @mamaD8 @evernightpub

Hey folks! Today I’m happy to introduce you to Doris O’Connor and her story Gabe’s Revenge!

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Doris is a writer of sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, Sci-fi, BDSM, M/M, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.

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Website ## Amazon Author Page ## Twitter ## Facebook ## Pinterest ## Instagram ## Evernight Publishing ## BookStrand ## Barnes & Noble

~ * ~ ABOUT THE BOOK ~ * ~

Thanks so much for having me on your blog with my new release, Gabe’s Revenge. This is book two in my series McLeod Security and a lot darker and longer than the first book. You’ll meet some familiar characters from book one in the series, but don’t worry. There are no spoilers, so the series can be read out of order. 🙂

Gabe and Lissa took me on quite the journey when I was writing their story, so hold on tight, as they find their way to their Happy Ever After.

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Revenge is best served cold…

Gabriel Henshaw is nothing but a monster—a ruthless killer—that’s what Lissa Andrini has always been told. Sold to the man by her own father, she fears for her life, yet she can’t help the insane pull she feels to him. It has to be some form of Stockholm syndrome, surely? It couldn’t possibly be the effect of his Dominant nature effortlessly pulling her under his spell and awakening her latent submissive side.

Beating Andrini to a bloody pulp soothes Gabe’s rage temporarily, but that leaves his daughter. Were it not for a promise to her mother, he’d refuse this payment, not least because Lissa Andrini awakens all of his protective and carnal instincts. The perfect counterfoil for his darker needs and desires, she has the power to bring him to his knees.

Can love flourish when you’re a pawn in a dangerous game?

Be Warned: BDSM, spanking, anal sex, Daddy Dom/little girl play

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“Fuck you, Sir.”

The snarky intonation she put on that title, while she yanked her chin up and did her best to stare him down, should have made him do good on his promise to put her over his knee. However, the slight wobble in her bottom lip, coupled with the way every delectable curve of her body was pressed into his frame, meant any such action would be a very bad idea indeed. He wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of her, and he didn’t want her first time to be angry sex. She deserved better than that.

“Oh, fuck, we will, my dear, but not now and not here.”

Her eyes grew wide, her already fast breaths sped up even more, and Gabe swallowed a groan. He let go of her and stepped back for some much-needed breathing space. As it was his cock was trying his hardest to break out the confines of the denim surrounding it. Gabe couldn’t even remember the last time he wanted a woman this damn much.

“So, you’re going to add rape to your rap sheet. Murdering innocent women wasn’t enough for you?”

A gasp from behind them alerted Gabe to Mavis’s presence, and sure enough when he turned his head it was to see her standing there. Hands pushed into the pockets of her ever-present apron her lips were pressed into a fine line, signaling her disapproval.

“Parkinson is here, Gabe,” she said.

“Thank you, Mavis, I’ll be there in a minute.”

She nodded, glanced at Lissandra and shook her head.

“Tell her the truth, Gabe, all of it. Or this will never work.”

With that, she turned and left them alone on the terrace.

“Oh my God, she knows, doesn’t she? I thought she was nice and I could trust her. Oh, I’m such a fool.”

Lissandra tried to get past him, but he stepped in her way.

“Lissa, don’t.” She pushed against his chest in a vain effort to make him move and then glared up at him.

“Don’t you dare call me that. Only Mama ever called me that. Don’t you fucking dare…” She slammed her hand over her mouth and shook her head. Misery and despair rolled off of her in waves, and Gabe had to fight the urge to take her in his arms. She wouldn’t welcome that move right now, if ever, and now was not the time.

Instead he crossed his arms over his chest, widened his stance, and simply looked at her.

“I’ll call you anything I damn well, please, little girl, and you will lose the attitude. I told you last night, you’re mine now, so you better get used to it. As for Mavis, she is the most loyal person I ever met. Without her, I doubt I would have survived my childhood, so you be nice to her, do you hear me?”

“Or what? You’ll kill me, too?” The mumbled reply grated, and he took several deep breaths to calm himself.

“If I wanted you dead, you’d be six feet under already, girl. After the hit on your father went wrong, I’ve never trusted anyone else to do the killing for me ever again.” He waited for that to sink in, and sure enough her head came up, and she stared wide-eyed, confusion evident on her face.

“I thought… it wasn’t…”

“No, little girl. I’m not such a bastard that I would rob a child of its mother, especially when that mother’s only crime was falling in love and staying with that fucker, Andrini. Besides, I prefer to kill with my hands. Much more satisfying.” He uncrossed his arms and wrapped his hands around her slender throat. Her heartbeat jumped under his palms, and he squeezed just once before he released her. “To feel the life draining out a piece of scum that crossed me … that’s sweet.”

“You’re a monster.” Her whispered reply made him grin.

“Yes, I suppose I am. You better get used to it, little girl, and don’t get any silly ideas of crossing me. You behave and do as you’re told, and we’ll get along just fine.”

She swallowed hard, but gave the tiniest nod, and that would have to do for now.

“Good girl, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

“So, you’ll kill me if I don’t behave?” She mimed quotation marks around that one word and nudged her chin up in a move of defiance that simply served to make him harder. It would be fun to tame all that passion, indeed, and knowing that he would be the first man ever to touch her, to teach her … fuck, what a turn-on that was. Gabe had never cared much about being the first. He wasn’t possessive over the women he fucked. That would mean he cared about them to be anything more than a convenient set of holes to sink his dick into, but this was Lissandra Andrini. His revenge and he was fast beginning to realize his destiny, too. Whether she’d also prove to be his downfall remained to be seen.

“Killing is too easy an out. That’s the only reason Andrini still lives. I want him to suffer, to wallow in his own filth. Death is too good for the likes of him. As for you…” He paused and smiled. “I’ve already told you what I’ll do to you. And once that ass of yours is red raw I will fuck it, so, maybe I’ll kill you after all with the petit mort, at least.”

Her sharp intake of breath almost sounded like a moan, and acting on instinct, he stepped closer, and shoved his hand under her robe to cup her mound. Wet heat greeted his palm, and he smirked, while a blush suffused her pale skin.

“What are you? You can’t … oh…” She tried to clamp her legs together, but one shake of his head stopped her. He forced himself to remove his hand, looked at the glistening evidence of her arousal on his palm and held it up for her to see.

“Protest all you want, Lissa. Hate me if you must, but your body doesn’t lie.” He licked the wetness off his hands and immediately regretted that, as her feminine musk hit his nostrils. Damn, she smelled good.

“I do, I hate you.” Her denial was too breathy to be truly effective, and Gabe laughed.

“No problem, my sweet. You don’t have to like me to enjoy fucking me. Now, go and get dressed, and meet me in the living room in ten minutes. Don’t make me wait, or so help me I drag you out there like this or maybe naked.” He grinned at her simmering outrage. “I’m sure my men would enjoy the view.”

“You wouldn’t dare?”

Gabe threw his head back and laughed.

“Oh, my sweet, never dare the monster.”

~ * ~ BUY ~ * ~

Evernight Publishing ## Amazon ## Amazon UK ## Amazon CA ## Amazon AU ## Barnes & Noble ## iBooks ## Kobo ## Smashwords

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Doris O’Connor, thank you for stopping by today!

Love & blessings to all! ❤
Jacey

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must come together or become ashes ‘Capital Offense’ #Gay #BDSM @booksbygray @TheOriginalGray @evernightpub

Hey folks! Today I’m happy to introduce you to J.R. Gray and his story Capital Offense!

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When not staying up all night writing, J.R. Gray can be found at the gym where it’s half as-sumed he is a permanent resident to fulfill his self-inflicted masochism. A dominant and a pilot, Gray finds it hard to be in the passenger seat of any car. He frequently interrupts real life, in-cluding normal sleep patterns and conversations, to jot down notes or plot bunnies. Commas are the bane of his existence even though it’s been fully acknowledged they are necessary, they con-tinue to baffle and bewilder. If Gray wasn’t writing…well, that’s not possible. The buildup of untold stories would haunt Gray into an early grave, insanity or both. The idea of haunting has always appealed to him. J.R. Gray is genderqueer and prefers he/him pronouns

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Website ## Amazon Author Page ## Twitter – Personal ## Twitter – Books ## Facebook ## Facebook Reader Group ## Newsletter ## Goodreads (Book) ## Tumblr

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All good things must come to an end.

George is trying to hold his world together, but it’s crumbling and he doesn’t know who he’s even fighting anymore. All the people he loves are suffering because of him.

Jesse is shattering because he can’t provide what George needs.

Elliot is broken perhaps beyond repair.

Zac is ruined by his own doing and isn’t fit to be what Elliot needs him to be.

There is no soothing light at the end of this tunnel. The reckoning is coming and not even George can protect them from the monster of his past. They are splintering, trying to avoid the flames, but they must come together or become ashes.

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George picked up the container of sterile needles he’d been saving so Jesse could see them. “This will be a little like a tattoo.”

“Oh God. You’re so close to my dick.”

“If you hold perfectly still there is a good chance none will even come close to your cock, unless of course you want me to pierce it for you.”

Jesse picked up his head. “Can you do that?”

“Easily.”

He pursed his lips. “I’m going to think about that one.”

“Don’t think on it too long.”

“Why not?” Jesse laid his head back down and let his arms go limp.

“Because if I don’t get an answer, I’m going to assume you approve.”

Jesse’s eyes shot back open. “You know what they say about assuming?”

“That it’s a perfectly acceptable thing for a dominant to do when his submissive is gagged?”

“But I’m not gagged…”

“You easily can be.” George pulled the pink ball gag halfway out of his pocket so Jesse could see it.

“I think I’ll wait on the piercing until we both discuss the pros and cons, Sir,” Jesse said as politely as George had ever heard come out of his mouth.

“Acceptable,” George said as he pushed the first needle into the tender skin on Jesse’s inner thigh.

“Holy fuck. Getting a tattoo there would be a whole lot different than on my neck.”

“If you can make it to fifty needles there will be a reward.”

“God help me.”

“You’re going to need it.”

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Evernight Publishing ## Amazon ## Amazon UK

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J.R. Gray, thank you for stopping by today!

Love & blessings to all! ❤
Jacey

teach all there is to love about pain? ‘Steven’ #BDSM #BBW @SuzyShearer @evernightpub

Hey folks! Today I’m happy to introduce you to Suzy Shearer and her story Steven!

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Author Suzy Shearer writes contemporary and paranormal erotic romances filled with mature and interesting characters. Her books always feature older heroes and heroines; ranging from mid 40s to 60s. The heroines are usually confident plus-sized women who are proud of their curves. Suzy feels it’s important for readers to connect. Her characters are older but maybe not always wiser. Suzy wants her readers to relate to her characters desires, fears and hopes. Sexy isn’t just for the under 30s.

In 2017 Suzy was nominated for the Best Established Author in the Australian Romance Today Readers’ Choice Award. She made it through all the rounds to reach the finals against some extremely talented and well-known Australian Romance Authors.

A Buddhist, Suzy is single and lives in the Western Suburbs of Sydney, Australia. When Suzy is not writing, she is usually painting – an accomplished watercolour Artist her subjects range from portraits and animals to nudes and landscapes.

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Website ## suzyshearer.blogspot.com ## sooziiiart.blogspot.com ## Amazon Author Page ## Twitter ## Facebook ## Pinterest ## Goodreads ## eMail ## Instagram ## Linkedin ## Evernight Publishing ## BookStrand

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They ooze power, control, natural dominance – and sex. They are The Silk Rope Masters.

None have ever found love but watch out! When they fall, they’ll fall fast and hard!

When 52 year old Avril Thomson overheard two women talking about a BDSM club, it had her intrigued. Determined to finally explore her desire for pain during sex, she signed up for the information evening at Silk Rope.

Steven Bray, 53, is a sadist. He noticed her as soon as he entered into the room, she was hard to ignore. Beautiful, plenty of curves, but with an unapproachable demeanour. His cock had twitched when she admitted she wanted to explore pain – heavy pain.

The question is was she a sexual sadist and, if so, would she allow Steven to teach all there was to love about pain.

Be Warned: BDSM, anal sex, sex toys, voyeurism, flogging, public exhibition

This is an erotic romance. There are explicit sexual descriptions and explicit language used throughout. It will offend some readers.

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Avril wondered how she managed to stand. Her legs were weak and wobbly, but she was determined not to show how she really felt. She couldn’t stop shaking as she followed the two Masters from the lounge and into the foyer. Her mouth was dry, her blood rushing through her veins, and in her mind, she could still hear the moans of the women she’d seen. She’d been glad of the chance to get herself under control in the lounge but wasn’t sure she did a very good job. Still, she resolved not to let the man, Steven, see how much she was affected both by the things she’d seen—and by him. But, judging by the intense looks he’d given her a couple of times, she had the distinct impression he could see right through her pretence.

On top of it all, part of her was in total shock—she’d been excited and still felt it!

After collecting her handbag, somehow, she made it home in one piece, and then she almost threw herself into a cold shower. She needed to calm down, the things she’d seen, the way those men control the situations, the hits—the obvious pain.

Even after her shower she was still turned on. Who would have believed it? Who on earth could get excited by watching someone getting whipped? Feeling pain?

Only her.

She was a woman who’d never gotten excited until now, but more importantly, she was damn aroused! Lying in bed, she remembered every detail, the way those women had screamed, the way each hit had made her wish it was her body stretched out. The way that last woman had been taken. She’d been fucked—no other way to describe it. And she’d climaxed, screaming in pleasure when she came! Avril wished it was her. She wished she were the one stretched out, tied down, and whipped by—by Master Steven.

Fuck, this is crazy! I don’t even like the man! He scared me.

Still, she fell asleep to dream of those all-seeing gray eyes staring at her, of the way his eyebrow lifted, the tiny quirk of his lips.

© Suzy Shearer 2018

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Evernight Publishing ## Amazon

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Suzy Shearer, thank you for stopping by today!

Love & blessings to all! ❤
Jacey

dreams of his wolf every night ‘Odd Man Out’ #GayRomance #MMM #Shapeshifters @GaleStanley @changelingpress

Hey folks! Today I’m happy to introduce you to Gale Stanley and her story Odd Man Out!

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Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.

Some things never change.

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Website ## Blog ## Twitter ## Facebook ## Pinterest ## Instagram

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Ray and Jared were living the perfect life until Ray discovered his ability to shift. Now he dreams of his wolf every night, and lives in fear of the beast.

Remus is the only man who can help Ray control his inner wolf. But if they connect will Jared become the odd man out?

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“Wake the fuck up! Come on, Ray, wake up.”

Jared gripped Ray’s upper arms and shook him again. No response. Nobody sleeps that soundly. For Christ’s sake, he looked catatonic, like the woman in The Fall of the House of Usher, who’s pronounced dead and then buried alive. Now Jared was scared. He considered throwing cold water on him, maybe calling for an ambulance. He shook Ray again.

Slowly, Ray opened his right eye. An explosion in Afghanistan took his left eye years ago.

“Jared?” Ray mumbled.

“Yeah, Jared. Were you expecting someone else?”

Ray looked around the room. He seemed confused.

“Snap out of it, man. I couldn’t wake you.”

“I’m awake. I’m awake.” Ray stretched. He looked like he wanted to go back to sleep.”

“You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry. I must have been dreaming.”

“Must have been some dream. There’s a wet spot on the bed.”

Ray checked the sheets. He looked surprised. “Sorry.”

“Forget it, Sexy.” Jared climbed into bed with him. “Tell me all the dirty details. I want to get off too.”

“You know I never remember my dreams.” Ray rolled out of bed. “I better change the sheets.”

Jared made a grab for him. “Later.”

Ray evaded him. “Look at the time, Jared.”

“You used to call me Baby?” Jared spoke more harshly than he intended.

“Fuck the sheets, and the time. We own the company. Let’s go in late. Better yet, let’s take the day off.”

“We can’t afford to close shop, even for one day. Too many P.I.’s in Jersey. The completion is killing us.”

“We’re the new guys in town. All we need is a big profile case and the clients will be knocking our door down.”

“I hope so.” Ray headed toward the bathroom. “I’m gonna shower.”

“Come back, I’ll give you a tongue bath instead.”

The bathroom door slammed behind Ray. Worried, Jared lay back with his arms under his head. Ray never wanted to fuck anymore. He always had an excuse. I’m too tired. It’s late. I’m drunk. I have a headache.

The sex had been dwindling for months. Six months to be exact. Ever since Remus showed up and screwed up their lives. If he was just another man Jared could handle the competition, but Remus was larger than life, a superhero who’d come from Ray’s past to claim him.

~ * ~ BUY ~ * ~

Changeling Press ## Amazon

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Gale Stanley, thank you for stopping by today!

Love & blessings to all! ❤
Jacey

He won’t be told no ‘Slater’s Claim’ #MCRomance #Erotic @AmberMothling @evernightpub

Hey folks! Today I’m happy to introduce you to Amber Morgan and her story Slater’s Claim!

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Amber is the secret identity of a writer who normally pens urban fantasy, but feels like stretching her wings. Amber loves darker romance, anti-heroes, good red wine, and expensive chocolate (sometimes all at once). She’s based in the UK and lives in an adorable cottage with her dream man, a very cute cat, and a grumpy corn snake.

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Blog/Website ## Twitter ## Facebook

~ * ~ ABOUT THE BOOK ~ * ~

Thank you for having me today! I’m so excited to share SLATER’S CLAIM with everyone! This is book three in my Wild Blood MC series, and it really marks a change for the boys of Wild Blood as I up the stakes, expand the world, and throw a whole lot of trouble at everyone!

But the most important part of the book is, of course, the love story! Slater and Freya have a rocky road to happiness, but don’t worry – I make sure they get there! Of course, it wouldn’t be much fun if there wasn’t some drama on the route…

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She won’t be tied down.

Freya can’t afford commitment. She’s deep in debt to a dangerous man and she refuses to drag anyone else into her mess. But Nathan Slater is forcing his way into her life and her problems—and Freya has to admit, she kinda likes it.

He won’t be told no.

Slater is used to being in control. Freya Markham is testing his limits. But Freya’s problems could destroy her, and Slater just can’t let that happen. He’s going to fix things, whether she likes it or not.

Be Warned: public exhibition

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This is good, she told herself, searching desperately for a silver lining. The more money Sammy took, the quicker she paid off her debt. She wished her first private customer had paid up. Bitterness stole through her as she headed back into the club. He’d been hot as hell, unexpectedly so, with that messed-up dark hair and smooth voice. Watching him get off to her dancing had been a powerful aphrodisiac that she hadn’t found with any of the other guys she’d performed for tonight.

But then the asshole had stiffed her, and because he’d said he was with security, she’d been too afraid to ask Benedict about the missing money. For all she knew, he could be one of Sammy’s guys.

She hobbled wearily across the empty dance floor. It was nearly three in the morning, and all the waitresses and other dancers were gone. A couple of cleaners mopped the floor and collected glasses. With the stage lights off and the stark house lights up, the club looked tawdry and soulless, and that was how Freya suddenly felt as well. All the eroticism and triumph had fled her, gone along with the money she’d earned.

She wished Sefina had stuck around. It would have been nice to share a ride home with her and commiserate – although she doubted Sefina was giving up most of her earnings to Sammy.

One of the bouncers, a Jamaican guy with long dreadlocks, was outside smoking when she left. She nodded at him in greeting, hugging herself. The pre-dawn air was crisp and cool, pleasant enough now when she was still so warm from dancing all night, but she knew she’d be shivering before long.

“You got a ride?” the bouncer asked her.

She shrugged. “I was going to walk.”

He eyed her outfit. She was back in jeans and a t-shirt, but still in heels, because she’d stupidly thought she was too used to walking in heels for it to bother her. A lesson learned: walking in heel was one thing, dancing in them was another entirely.

“Call a cab,” he said. “I’ll wait with you.”

She thought of the slim stack of notes in her purse, then thought of the forty-minute walk back to her apartment and decided a cab was a better plan. While she called a local firm, she looked the bouncer over more carefully, noting the leather vest he wore under his hoodie. There was a simple patch at the bottom, black with white letter. Prospect.

“You’re in an MC?” she asked when she hung up.

“Yes ma’am,” he said.

“You and the other guys that were here when I auditioned?”

He nodded, taking another drag on his cigarette that made the cherry-red tip glow hot in the darkness.

“So you know the guy, the brown-haired guy? Tall, big…arms?”

He gave her a knowing grin. “Slater? Yeah, I know Slater.”

She mulled on that. Being in a MC didn’t mean Slater had no connections to Sammy. She didn’t pretend to be an expert, but whenever she saw anything about MCs in the news, it was invariably bad. Turf wars, drugs, gun-running… The knot in her stomach twisted a little tighter.

“You want me to pass a message to him?” the bouncer asked, a teasing note in his voice.

Freya frowned, scanning the empty road for her cab. “No,” she said firmly. “Absolutely not.”

~ * ~ BUY ~ * ~

Evernight Publishing ## Amazon – UK ## Amazon – US

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Amber Morgan, thank you for stopping by today!

Love & blessings to all! ❤
Jacey

may bring it all together or destroy everything ‘Spice & Vanilla’ #Gay #BDSM @KatherineWyvern @evernightpub

Hey folks! Today I’m happy to introduce you to Katherine Wyvern and her story Spice & Vanilla!

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Katherine is a gipsy soul who lived in Italy, Norway, Germany, France and Spain but mostly in some private universe of her own. She still lives a nomad life between Dordogne and Catalonia, with a tipi as a home and her boots and a horse as only means of transport.

She’s worked as a printer, a welder and a gardener, and been writing since she can remember, mostly poetry, fantasy and erotica, sometimes mixed together in weird ways.

Nowadays, when not busy with walking, horse-whispering or dream-weaving, she is usually painting, embroidering or working her backbone off in the pastures.

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Website ## Blog ## Twitter ## Facebook ## Instagram

~ * ~ A WORD FROM KATHERINE WYVERN ~ * ~

Hello, and thank you so much for having me here today to talk about my new release, Spice & Vanilla. This is the darker, naughtier sister of my previous release, Woman as a Foreign Language, but it can be read as a complete stand alone.

The BDSM element in Spice and Vanilla came about in part because I had just finished reading Katerina Ross’ beautiful novel Tenderly Wicked, so I was in the mood for something a bit spicier than my previous release, and partly because I had this idea for Raphael, the main character, that he would be “in two minds about anything”. He’s gender-fluid, bisexual, and as it turns out, a switch (he is in fact the sort of character that can piss off absolutely every reader on earth, lol).

I always like sex scenes to carry some of the character building in my stories. I think sex is one of the most visceral things we do in life, and the way we have sex with different people and different sex with the same people at different times can say a lot about us, about our feelings for our partners and where we are in a relationship. You can put so much more than smut in a sex scene (although a good amount of smut is most welcome), and when you stray into BDSM that potential for character exploration rises tenfold, because there are so many more layers to it. Why do we feel the need, in a caring, loving relationship, for giving or receiving pain? Why do power and humiliation become a turn on, even a necessity, at certain times? And can these things add more to our relationships than just a passing kinky thrill? Can they possibly become a way to express feelings we don’t have words for? I do not pretend to have full answers to these questions, but I did enjoy searching for them in the company of such complex characters as Raphael and Hugh.

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Time was, when Di could dance all night. Time was, when she could ride any horse in the stable. Time was when she had a fiancée, a future and a home she loved. Until a silver SUV came out of nowhere and broke her life in half.

Well concealed under a sarcastic, spiny hide, Hugh has a darkly romantic, passionate soul. Torn between love and terror, he’s held the talented, elegant, magnetic Raphael carefully at arm’s length since the day they met.

Male or female, men or women, kinky or sweet, top or bottom? Angel or devil? Raphael’s life is a string of unanswered questions. And Lucie, his long-hidden female self, may bring it all together or destroy everything he has.

Be warned: cross-dressing, gender-queer, explicit M/M and M/F sex, anal sex, spanking, flogging, bondage, forced orgasm, sex toys

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Hugh watched him stroking away with great contentment. He was totally worn out after a crazy day at work, and it was not always easy to find the energy to satisfy such an enthusiastic masochist. There were days when he wished Raphael were a bit less fond of being spanked and whipped, but he always did his best to oblige him. The thought of his Raphael going out there looking for release from God-only-knows-whom, and getting hurt for real by some less scrupulous or talented Dom was just unbearable. Still, tonight he would lie back and relax. Mostly. I will have to help him eventually, he thought with a slightly evil grin, but I can take a breather first.

Raphael stroked in perfect tempo. He was one of the most technically exact musicians Hugh had ever played with, after all. Too exact, in fact.

It would do him so much good to let go a bit, to just go with the flow, be wild and imprecise and purely passionate. Then he would not need so much of this.

Tick—tock—tick—tock—tick—tock, went the metronome, and Raphael stroked and stroked. It was a good while before Hugh could tell, from a small furrow between those blond eyebrows, that the unchanging, slow rhythm was beginning to frustrate him. He smiled a bit wider and said nothing, devouring his beautiful quarry with his eyes. He watched, entranced the fluid play of flesh and skin as Raphael’s long pale cock, a nice ruddy purple by now, sank and reemerged into and from his fist, the velvet-like foreskin lapping beautifully over the shinier, silky glans, the testicles bouncing softly to the rhythm as the scrotum was pulled up and released. It was hard to resist the temptation to throw the whole scene to the devil and just take that cock in his mouth and suck it empty.

This is without exception the best use a metronome was ever put to.

Raphael’s body was developing a number of small, charming tics and twitches. He briefly lifted his left knee from the mattress then relaxed again. His right wrist was pulling on the strap from time to time, and his breath was coming in slightly ragged bursts.

Still it took a long time. Too much control, thought Hugh, smiling. Tsk-tsk.

Tick—tock—tick—tock.

He slowly unfolded his hands and moved to sit between Raphael’s legs. He spit on his middle finger and watched Raphael’s face, half hopeful, half anxious, as he slowly approached his anus. He didn’t hurry. He let Raphael wait for it. He would beg, in time, Hugh knew, but there was no need for that, not yet. He finally pressed his fingertip to the twitching, tight, live rose of flesh and felt it jolt and spasm. He massaged it in circles, with relish, and didn’t even try to penetrate it. Raphael was shaking all over, trying to press down on his finger, but there was just so far he could stretch, tied as he was. His belly muscles went taut. They were contracting in random, jerky convulsions. Hugh had never seen anything so beautiful.

Then Raphael missed a beat. His hand had picked up pace, ignoring all orders. Raphael whimpered, trying to compensate to get back in the right tempo. The double change of pace made him squirm all over. He swallowed twice and missed the beat again. This time Hugh slapped the inside of his thigh, very hard. Raphael could take a long regular series of well-spaced blows with relative ease, but a single hard slap coming down out of the blue like that drew a ragged cry from him.

“You do know what tempo means, I asked?” Hugh said, in a plain chatty voice. He had never had any taste whatsoever for histrionics. He was not, he had never been, a theatrical Dom. He wasn’t in it for setting up a show. He just got the job done.

“Yes. Yes!” said Raphael, a bit frantic. He managed to stick to the rhythm for a minute longer, until Hugh gently stuck his finger just within the ring of his anus. All of Raphael’s body twisted, and he lost all track of the cold, mechanical rhythm of the metronome.

And that is exactly what you need, my love. Too much playing by the rules, too much fucking control. You need to find your own tempo, and just let go.

Five or six fast hard strokes followed. Hugh slapped him twice, on his thigh, and, when he turned suddenly, on his butt. And then Raphael came, on the third slap, as he flopped flat on his back again, crying out in pleasure or pain, or both. It was hard to tell. Semen spurted out in beautiful, long, arched white streamers, splattering over Raphael’s belly, chest, and even his face.

It is difficult to aim while being spanked hard.

Hugh watched him coming, avidly.

He was so naked. So vulnerable, so unguarded. Hugh, who felt, every day, that he might shatter like glass, on Raphael’s unearthly, impossibly graceful, self-possessed beauty, lived for these moments, to watch him released of all self-consciousness and all bonds. Strange, how it took a bunch of leather straps to get him to do that.

“Ah, oh, shit. That hurt,” Raphael whispered after a minute. “Not complaining, mind,” he added, with a small edgy laugh, wiping some drops of sperm from his lips and eyebrow.

“Good,” said Hugh, quite composed, despite the erection straining in his pants. Watching Raphael twitching and jolting while covered in glistening semen was not a sight to leave him unmoved. He reached out for the metronome, stopped it and lowered the weight a tad, then started it again.

This was a faster, business-like tempo.

“There you go, hot lips,” he said to Raphael, who was still breathing hard from his orgasm.

“What? Wh—but…”

Hugh gave him a small devilish smile. Raphael was perfectly capable of coming two or three times in one night, but, like most men, he needed a while to recuperate in between. Well, tonight, he wasn’t getting it.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

You can also find an exclusive excerpt on my website, here.

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Katherine Wyvern, thank you for stopping by today!

Love & blessings to all! ❤
Jacey

nothing more than my secret ‘King Consort’ #Gay #Romance @theoriginalgray @booksbygray

Hey folks! Today I’m happy to introduce you to J.R. Gray and his story King Consort!

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When not staying up all night writing, J.R. Gray can be found at the gym where it’s half assumed he is a permanent resident to fulfill his self-inflicted masochism. A dominant and a pilot, Gray finds it hard to be in the passenger seat of any car. He frequently interrupts real life, including normal sleep patterns and conversations, to jot down notes or plot bunnies. Commas are the bane of his existence even though it’s been fully acknowledged they are necessary, they continue to baffle and bewilder. If Gray wasn’t writing…well, that’s not possible. The buildup of untold sto-ries would haunt Gray into an early grave, insanity or both. The idea of haunting has always ap-pealed to him. J.R. Gray is genderqueer and prefers he/him pronouns.

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Website ## Amazon Author Page ## Twitter: Personal ## Twitter: Books ## Facebook ## Facebook Reader Group ## Mailing List ## Goodreads: Book ## Tumblr

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Avoiding sleeping with women was my specialty, an art form even. As the future King of England I couldn’t be caught sleeping with men. My whole life played out in front of the paparazzi, and they didn’t miss a thing.

I had a carefully crafted womanizing persona to maintain. My life came with rules, all of which I broke when I couldn’t resist a one night stand with the enemy: A beautiful paparazzo with a heart of gold. He may be the only person who doesn’t want me for my title, and he can never be anything more than my secret.

But secrets have a way of coming out and not only will they scare him away, but they’ll lose me the crown.

~ * ~ EXCERPT ~ * ~

He sat back keeping the camera in his lap. “How much liberty are you giving me?”

I mirrored him and looked him over, taking my time with my answer. “Why are you asking.”

Lust crossed through his gaze. “Take off the shirt.”

I obliged him, slowly working my fingers down the buttons. I slid it off and set it aside. He looked me over, hungry. My cock stirred at the look. I’d never felt so desired by another person. He slid forward on the seat and brought the camera back to his face. I stayed as I was until he told me to move.

“Sit on the edge of the table,” he said breathless.

I was glad this was getting to him as much as it was me. It was entirely foreign to give someone such a thing over me. To allow someone to take these photos. It was daring and exhilarating. I’d have to be careful or I’d get addicted to the acting out like some bored teenager.

I sat on the edge to the table closest to the fire and he moved back to take a few shots. I looked up when he hadn’t said anything in a few moments to find him just watching me. The fire illuminated his scar, and I wanted to kiss the length of it, from his brow to his lips. I licked my lip and my chest rose as I inhaled fully, trying to calm myself. He snapped another photo.

“What do you see?” I asked unable to stand wondering a moment longer. I wanted to know how he saw me.

“I see hunger,” he said as he came closer. “The way you look at me.” The camera hung at his side as he stalked closer.

I wanted to reach out for him. To shove him into the chair he’d occupied and climb on top of him, but I refrained because more than wanting him, I wanted to see what he did.

“Take your pants off.”

I raised a brow but didn’t say more.

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J.R. Gray, thank you for stopping by today!

Love & blessings to all! ❤
Jacey